Post!

Friend of mine, Jessika Taylor-Nunez, were talking awhile back about the good old band days. She brought something to my attention - there's something about hanging out with someone into the late night and being there in the early morning... Maybe it's just me, but I feel there's something about that experience that kind of binds people - some bonding time, you know, being there when the sun rises and the birds chirps.

I found myself reliving that moment with my 24 Hour Film Dash film crew. It was exciting - staying up 24 hours, with friends - several new.

Yeah, I have to admit our movie is absolutely cheesy. But it was fun, and exciting making it. And I feel we have quite the film crew with us - several of us have good acting experience, a couple of us great editing/filming skills, and a pair of great writers. Only problem were the restrictions that the competition gave us - but I'm pretty sure once we get a couple scripts going and exercise our creative freedom, we can make some great works.

As for our movie - once it's up, I'll let you guys know. Despite the fact that I hate seeing/hearing myself on stage/screen.

I haven't written in here for awhile. What can I say? Been busy. But here I am again.

Odd thing happened to me today. I was walking with the Caucasian (Tristan) to grab a caffeinated cold drink when we came across a turtle. Grazing on the grass. Eating. In the middle of UCI. It was just chilling there, eating. I found it highly entertaining. I looked around for a manhole, and pondered upon the possibility of finding radioactive sludge... But then I remembered how John Cusack turned out in the end of Fat Man and Little Boy (absolutely terrible movie, by the way) and decided against it.

You know, I've realized how close I've gotten to the people in my hall. Figure it was bound to happen, after living with each other for this long. But I just realized how comfortable I was around these guys. Honestly, I initially wanted back home or wanted to live in Middle Earth (the other housing complex for freshmen at UCI, and yes, it is name after the Tolkien setting) because the former I feel less like a social retard and the latter I feel my nerdiness could get me further there. But then again, I would not be hanging out with some of the pretty rad people living in this hall, Viento.

I've been listening to Tally Hall again. And apparently, their online internet series have been posted on their website (Google it up, I'm too lazy). A friend of mine (here's looking at you, Perdomo) would call me gay for liking them, but hell, I can't help it. They've got amazing harmony, genius instrumentation, their upbeat songs put me in my happy place - and looking through their online video series, I declare them a favorite band of mine.

I mean, watch this:


I feel like I could mesh with these gentlemen quite well. In fact, they've kind of inspired me to find a ukelele and pick up a song or two of theirs. But unfortunately, I'm not so sure if I got the time for that...

I've found myself remarkably busy as of late. I think the 24 Hour Film Dash did something to me. I don't know what, but I feel like something good. And I think it correlates with my business all of a sudden.

I've been listening to a lot of jazz lately. More so than usual. I can't help it. I think jazz is classy, and I like to consider myself a man of class. I'd like to declare Charlie Parker my jass favortie saxophonist, Dave Brubeck my favorite jass pianist and Glen Miller my favorite when it comes to big band/swing. As for trumpets, I still need to explore that - as well as trombone. Don't know why, but I feel I need to venture back into jazz. It was one of the only things I would look forward to in high school after marching season was over...

I seem to keep on reverting back to my desire to relive high school, huh? I can't help it. High school I really enjoyed. But college isn't anything that I hoped for. I don't know, I guess I had this idea that soon as I came out here, I'd be able to find a hip, happening crowd that's well-verse and cultured in music, movies, theatre, and pop culture and stuff, and I'd be able to hang out with them in coffee shops and just find ourselves deep in discussion, and I'd be up to date with the latest alternative fashion/subculture. Like a beatnik of the early 21st century or something...

And look where I am now. Granted, I feel college is growing more and more on me. I'm just having a hard time finding people with the same things in common with me. Maybe I just need to put myself out more... And stop being so cooped up in my room.

I'm sorry if the post seems a bit scatter-brained - I've been meaning to write for a week, and I have yet to put anything up.

I figure anything would work. I wonder if any of you still read this...

Hey, do me a favor. I'm just wondering, but for those of you guys who actually read these posts - leave a comment? Just this one time. I want to know who actually reads my online ramblings.

... Oh God I just realized how emo this post sounds. Forgive me! I'll try not to sound like a whiny bitch in the future!

Crap. It's 4:14 AM. I got class in less than 5 hours. Well, least I got a post up.

Up. Up. And away!

Ah, how I miss Lion Dance...

Just came back from practice. Got two videos to share with the world:



This is me just showing what I've been doing for the past two months... I swear, I can play better - more articulated, much clearer, and such.

And then there's this:


How The Day Sounds from Miky Wolf on Vimeo.

Greg Laswell
How The Day Sounds
Directed by Autumn de Wilde
DP: Byron Shah
Producer: Chris Rossi
Production Company: [b-negative]
Editor: Miky Wolf
©2008 Vanguard Records, a Wellk Music Group Company

I've watched this music video over and over again. It's quite... well, you'll have to see.

I have a new found respect for my boss

Well, at least my supervisor, Carla. She's one of the peoplethat control my salary - or more like, controls the hours I can work. Anywho, we had an interesting conversation going on about comic books and science fictionl; she's read all the comic books I have read, and then some. Neil Gaiman, Alan Moore, Sandman, 30 Days of Night, Watchmen, Star Wars, Star Trek...

And then, I found out I'm working next weekend. Not jumping for joy over that, but at least I'm getting hours. Not to mention, there's a Super Bowl party that Sunday at work. Think I'll go to that - I'm feeling a bit more comfortable around my co-workers, so I think I'll let myself loosen up over there. Must find something to make to contribute to the potluck... (Note to self: Make sure there's still money for work study...)

Also, I NEED THESE:


THEY ARE TEH SECKS! (Link totally sfw, just linked to the blog I found these off of)

I am also submitting to an impulse buy of Ninja Tacks. They're thumbtacks, in Ninja Star form.
Okay, enough ignoring homework. I've really got to stop putting off homework pass midnight...

Another distraction from homework....

Well, this weekend has been very unproductive for me. And this week does not bode well for me... Nothing but work and attempts to study.

All I can really recall of my weekend is my time with some Gio Nam/Southern Wind/Lion Dance buddies - Hung Le and Nam Nguyen. Came as a bit of a surprise - Sunday they called me out for some Dim Sum and I came along. Afterwards, we went out to go fishing off the Balboa Pier in Newport Beach.

A familiar, bittersweet sight lies at the end of this pier: The Ruby's Diner that I took my ex-girlfriend to on her 17th Birthday... Those were good times. But times I didn't let cloud my mind as I stood at the pier, attempting to catch some fish. It wasn't until Hung gave me some sage advice on fishing that the fish really started biting. And I have to say, I really did enjoy myself. Just standing there, taking in the scene, letting the loudspeakers of Ruby's Diner play some old music reminiscent of the Prohibition, old American chauvanism, the Great Depression - and best of all, jazz. I enjoyed the bonding time genuinely.

And the verdict? Three mackerels and two scorpion fish.

We brought home more or less 20 mackerels in a bucket. I came back to the dorm with a zip lock bag of five mackerels - now freezing in my fridge - as well as a pair of jeans stained with fish guts.

I'm not looking forward to school, though. I think I got a lot of studying and working to do. I'm going to try to endure some minimal sleep. See how that works out for me.

You remember that "weight" thing I posted a couple months ago?

EPIC FAIL

Yeah, I've gotten lazy... And really let myself go during the holidays... BUT I plan on jumping back on the horse and riding it home!

Eventually...

Okay, tomorrow. I really need it.

... you know, it's partially your fault. I told you guys before that I needed motivation on your part, and I got zero feedback on it!

But then again, I doubt that I have that wide of a readership... There are a couple of you out there reading, this though. I'm sure of it. I just wish I knew who.

I shouldn't blame you guys for my laziness, I'm sorry.

And I think I may be getting my Scholastic Fingers back - you know, the ones I use to type papers and such. A Midsummer Night's Dream has plagued me recently; I'm supposed to analyze a passage out of it rhetorically via Ethos, Logos and Pathos - a quick flashback to my Junior Year in Mr. Jason Charles, for those of you who remember - and I had a terrible time coming up with a thesis.

But, voila! I've found a hunch, and I need to explore it!

On another random note, I need to work on my script-writing craft. I've got books on it I should really look into, and its the same text that the screenwriting class at UCI is using... How fortunate for me. :D

It's late, and I feel a bit tired. Note to self, however: window mural is blank. Must decorate with random pop culture. Over.

This made my night.

I was talking to a good friend of mine that I keep on liking more and more with each and every encounter - Tony La. The both of us were just standing on the stairs in front of the Humanities Hall of UCI, wasting time and talking. Somewhere within our conversation I absentmindedly pulled out Monica, my harmonica, out and blew a couple notes in it.

The both of us heard a man approach, saying something that was not quite audible to our ears because we thought he was directing his speech towards someone else. I thought he was talking on his cellphone with a blue-tooth headset - but at a glance I saw he was not. There was nobody else around him, so I immediately tuned in to what he was saying after I came to the realization that he was talking to us.

He pulls a harmonica out - and old Hohner pocket harmonica in the key of C. I asks if I can play a couple notes in it and my gosh what a tone. After I gave it back to him, without a beat, he just starts playing riffs. Compelled, I played along - playing long notes underneath the rapid fire bullets he bursts into the holes of that mouth harp. I didn't want to try anything fancy, I just wanted to hear him. My accompaniment - least from what I can hear - blended well with his fanciful notes of eighths and sixteenths - I wanted to just listen, but at the same time I wanted to be a part of the music so I just kept on playing. The small audience watching us from the bridge up above were highly entertained, but not as much as I was, oh no.

I almost forgot how great it feels to make beautiful music...

It only lasted for a moment, this ad hoc jam session, but my God it was awesome. Finally, I was able to improve with somebody something that actually sounded like good music. And I was actually (kinda) able to keep up!

We exchanged names: he introduced himself as Richard Nester, the writing instructor over at UCI's LARC (Learning and Academic Resource Center) program. I introduced myself as Henry, a first year at UCI that he's bound to see around more often. I was compelled to give him my card, but decided against it - I found it wiser not to.

After that brief - but amazing - encounter, Tony and I were absolutely flabbergasted. It was badass - to say the least. Next time I see him - and hopefully I recognize his face - I hope we can have a repeat of our experience.

My God, I expected today to be pretty shitty with my busy schedule, but that moment absolutely made my night.

"Actually, here take a card."

I've been passing these out like candy. Everywhere I go, every person I meet.

"Hey, nice to meet you, I'm Henry. In fact, take a card."

I hand these out like candy and I keep on forgetting I'm leaving the URL to my blog on these. I'm already through half of my cards - and mind you, I call them "My Card" as opposed to "My Business Card" - and I'm guessing there's at least a handful who's visited this website out of curiosity. Or at least one person. To those of you who are visiting... well... welcome!

Now for a random thought:

I play the harmonica. I have a smoking pipe. A gray fedora. Blazers. And to top it all off, "business" cards.

Gimmicky or awesome?

I don't know, but I'm pretty sure this qualifies me as one of those "unique characters." This makes me sound pretentious, doesn't it? You know, I've always thought people who used the word "pretentious" are pretentious themselves - but what does that say about me?

Uh-oh. I'm on a random stream of consciousness again. This is fun, I wonder where my thoughts are going to take me.

You know, I found something great that you can do. Get a ping pong ball. Cut'em in half. Tape those halves to your eyes. Lie down on a couch. Turn on a radio to static. Then, you'll start hallucinating. You see, the brain is addicted to sensations that appeal to... well, the senses. Thence the ping pong ball and the static - they're "whitenoises" that tune out the senses. The brain then starts developing its own. To entertain itself, I suppose.

Entertain. I had a dream last night. I don't remember what it's about. I remember it was entertaining. I know there's somebody that I recognize in my dream. I seem to be having some pretty vivid dreams lately. Last one I remembered? Barack Obama.

I'd really like to meet the guy. He seems like a nice guy to talk to - and he collects Spider-man comic books! Marvel is actually making an issue where Spidey talks to Obama. Now THAT'S gimmicky.

Still, Spidey needs it. Don't know if a lot of you know, but Peter Parker and Mary Jane? NO MORE! Peter traded his marriage for Aunt May's life - she got shot in an assassination attempt against Parker and was about to die. Mephisto shows up, offers MJ and Parker a chance to trade in their marriage and all memories of it for Aunt May's life. And despite the fact that Aunt May's already reaching the age where death is expected...

The writers decided to end the Parker/Jane marriage.

I was pretty pissed off about this - it's like ending the Superman/Lois Lane marriage - it's blasphemy! I thought it was one of those unwritten rules of comic books, you know? Where everything's possible except for the resurrection of Ben Parker (in canon); Clark Kent & Lois Lane will always be together; Catwoman and Batman will still have many flirtations but will not really amount to much considering they're both on different sides of the law; The Flash will always be the fastest thing alive; and Spidey and Mary Jane will be together forever!

But nooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Let's end it! Let's ruin the Spidey franchise, as if it hasn't been molested enough by the third Spiderman movie!

ARGH! As if it wasn't bad enough insinuating that Gwen Stacy and the Green Goblin were having an affair and had twin children (I wish I could, but I shit you not. Wiki it). NO! They have to do retarded stuff like this to - oh God, rape my childhood!

And this is why I turned to Batman! Not the "main" one, but the other "non-canon" stuff - at least those are written in quality!

Damn you, Marvel. I used to love you so much because you did stuff that DC would never do - kill, murder, cheat, and lie. And now I've turned to DC because Batman makes more sense to me than the retarded mess you've left my childhood.

Sigh.

I need a shower. I like seeing how I went from "business card" to "Fuck Spiderman, go Batman!" Weird thing where the mind can take you.

Conversations I'd Like to Hear More Often

“…Dude, why’s your cock on my desk?”
“I think a better question would be ‘Why is it green?’”

“Skimming through Vogue whilst sipping a Cosmopolitan and listening to Yanni – how much more manlier can you get.”

“Happy Birthday! I was about to get you one of those, you know, ‘dancers’ in a cake, but I ate the cake… and the ‘dancer’ if you get my drift, eh, eh?”

“Mmm… last night I ate through ten pounds of meat. Afterwards, I ate out ten different women. All of different ethnicities, too.”
“Ah yes, the All American Buffet. Where the melting pot ends up in your mouth.”
“… that’s disgusting.”

“I will castrate you with a butter knife. No lie. A rusty one, even.”

“I’m telling you, that’s what Brown Eye Girl is about!”
“Oh, shut up!”
“No, no, here me out! It’s about this guy – who’s met this nymphomaniac who only likes to do it in the derriere–“
“Nah man, it’s about a dude – or chick - that’s totally sprung for some chick with brown eyes.”
“Yeah, well, I won’t take that for granted; everybody has a different interpretation of art and literature, I mean one guy can look at Alice in Wonderland and say that it is a tale of a girl struggling from childhood to adulthood, whereas some other dude can say that it’s Charles Dodgson’s wild acid dream done in a novel-”
“Carroll.”
“What?”
“It was Lewis Carroll who wrote the book. Not ‘Dodgson.’”
“…Lewis Carroll is a pseudonym; Dodgson started using it after ‘Solitude.’”
“Digression!”
“Alright, alright, going back to this… questionable content. This is my interpretation of ‘Brown Eye Girl’. ‘Brown Eye Girl’ is about this certain female… who likes… the anal sex. And, like my very well esteemed friend over here said, yes he is sprung for this chick. So much that he’s fuckin’ her all over the place.”
“Oh, God…”
“So, he’s pretty much doin’ her in the butt; ‘along the water fall,’ ‘in the green grass,’ ‘in the misty morning fog,’ ‘behind the stadium.’ It is behind these places that they are ‘laughing,’ with ‘their hearts a thumpin’, not to mention other things thumping… And who can forget the ‘slipping and sliding,’ thanks to all that lube needed to –“
“Alright, that’s enough.”
“I’m just giving my interpretation of Brown Eye Girl.”
“Great. Every time I hear that song, I’m going to thinking about anal sex.”

I've Always Been Bad With Names

For my AP History class, we just took a test over the Western Frontier, running from President Harrison to Cleveland and all that good stuff. For my essay, I wrote about the Decline of the Plains Indians. More than once did I find myself writing in "Shitting Bull" instead of "Sitting Bull" and "Helen Cunt Jackson" instead of "Helen Hunt Jackson."

... I had a strong urge to leave the typos as is.

The Connotations of Annotations

Alright, the title has nothing to do with the post, but after listening to Gene Kelly and Donald O' Connor sing "Moses Supposes" in Singin' in the Rain, I've been on fire!

So, something interested happened in the unusually mundane life of Senor Pooty Chang's life. My English teacher, Mr. Charles, makes us annotate - or write notes in the margin - our copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I have to digress here for a second, both for the sake of getting something off my chest and thickening up this post.

I don't care what others say, I find Huck Finn an oddly refreshing change from what I'm usually forced to read. After all, Mark Twain is much easier to read than bloody Charles Dickens (all Charles wanted to do was fatten up his wallet since they paid by the word during the 1800s - thence, his ways of calling a girl a slut in so many words). I've enjoyed Huck Finn immensely, and I know others say that's it's a boring book to read, which in that case I point your way towards Catcher in the Rye (I admit, I didn't really like Catcher in the Rye. Nothing against J.D. Salinger, I just hate teenage angst. It was the main reason why I couldn't stand Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince). However, Huck actually seems like a believable character, with the same notions and naivete of a 14 year old. Twain has a great sense of humour as a writer, and his characters are just as charismatic as one would imagine Twain himself to be. Unfortunately, people of this generation can't seem to enjoy Twain's wit - at least not without some intellect and wit themselves... Phuckin' philistines...

Back to the story. Well, my friend Elena writes "I love the cock" in one of the pages of my copy of Huck Finn. I didn't bother erasing it; I wrote "But I do love the cock, I do!" instead. Well, come English class, Mr. Charles was going around checking books for annotations while everybody was off working. I was kind of hoping that he would just skim through mine, not really read any of my notes, and just slap me with a full grade. Which would've been great; I was writing random notes that weren't even pertaining to the book, anyways. I didn't read the night before, so I did all of my anotations and highlighting the period before.

Unfortunately, Mr. Charles took the time to read my notes. While I was conversing with one of my peers, I was looking out of the corner of my eye for his reponse. During the middle of my conversation, Mr. Charles calls for my attention.

"Henry..."

He flashes to me the page with "I Love the Cock" on it.

"Ok, I didn't write that in, that's not even my writing."

He turns to the next page where, distinctly in my writing, it says "But I do love the cock! I do!" on it.

"... Ok, that I did write."

Sure, I got 1.5 points out of 4, but it was damn well worth the moment. Thing is, that night - I finished the book.

Tom Sawyer is a silly cooze.

... What?

jossungood: So how'd you weekend faire thus far, mon amie?
mccxricekrispy: It sucketh be
mccxricekrispy: Too much studying on the weekends for me
mccxricekrispy: bout you my good man?
jossungood: What a shameth it be to hear such troubling news so as to befalleth upn thee, and I in somber retriubutino offer thee my most sincerest of apologies.
jossungood: Mine, it be one of a few pleasures paired with the insatiable inevitability of mundane bordom.
mccxricekrispy: Ah, poor soul, I believe the Lord has shown some disdain in us
jossungood: Ah, this be true fellow wanderer of misfortune.
mccxricekrispy: indeed
jossungood: Let us not count thine troubles too hastily, fellow! Let us instead look resolutely toward an inner goal: doth thou wish to accompany me to a film later on in the course of my days.
mccxricekrispy: You speak of later days or of the day ahead of us?
jossungood: This one we are interlocked within.
mccxricekrispy: Ah, unfortunately, I must decline - my day is filled with too many burdensom scholarly task that I can't ignore or else it might be the demise of me
mccxricekrispy: I expect that if I were to attend, we would be viewing Science of Sleep, nay?
jossungood: Most definitely, your astute prediction doth not fail thee.
mccxricekrispy: Damnation upon my studies!