And before I continue...let me reiterate why it is that I write in the first place: I write only to remember.
I'm not sure what it was that took over my life either...
The pressure of having to remember the nuances of every moment? The fact that a million fucking things have happened in the last two months? The job? Fuck...I say "job" as if it's my new career...as if it's the next big step in my life. Who am I trying to convince that I won't be working at Blockbuster for another year or two? My readers? Myself?
I should be the last person to forget why I quit working at Nutrilite...and while I'm on the topic of forgetting shit, am I really starting to forget the major things that have happened since Sound and Fury?
Perhaps I'm actually getting to a point where I can't remember everything the way I thought I could. I figured if I could just take things one at a time that it would actually help...but I can barely remember what happened in the month of August.
One of my closest cousins just got married. It was a big fucking deal, but it all went by so fast. It was like I went to New Mexico and came back in the blink of an eye...and now all of a sudden the cousin I grew up making fart jokes and watching hours of Ren and Stimpy with has a wife.
How the fuck did that happen?
It feels like everything from the last day I worked for Street Blimps up to this very moment has been nothing but a wildly intoxicating blur of life-altering shit.
I met new people at the Sound and Fury festival, including an incredibly sweet girl whom my roommate and I had at first thought purposely gave us a wrong phone number to keep in touch with her. Our confusion only led us to find that we were in fact both responsible for quite possibly the biggest fail of all 2009.
I walked away from that weekend with extensive pictures (some of which were taken by other people)...:
(photo courtesy of our friend Erin and one of my trusty disposables) ...while apparently I got caught in at least one music video:
My best friend's band, Dead Hours, came to visit while hilarity and awkward nakedness ensued, punx were upped, things were probably stolen, and I was forced to work the whole Goddamned time they were here. Gotta love those closing shifts.
I made extensive trips to the legendary Pinks on my way home from work and became a fan of the triple bacon chili cheese dog:
About a week of this went by before I made the incredibly low-key trip back to New Mexico for my cousin's wedding. I was literally in New Mexico for five minutes and the first thing that happened was I got sick. I stayed in a room at my parents' place the whole time I was there, eventually came out and put on a suit for my cousin's wedding, and then flew back to California. Somewhere in the middle of all the music, the ceremony, the dancing...all the random people I didn't know, I had a conversation with my dad and a close friend of his...and it basically changed my entire life. Sort of...There isn't any sense in making a big deal out of this story unless people ask about it...so I'm going to go ahead and leave that one alone for now.
One of my best friends came to visit for some technical assistance with an unruly hard drive (unfortunately one that had Windows Vista installed on it), and the visit resulted in quite an epic, inebriated conversation about some serious shit...and it took a "WHOLE LOT OF EFFORT" for us to talk about it.
I spent the next few weeks talking to the girl I met at Sound and Fury...a girl who unfortunately lives about seven-hundred miles away. She's nice to me. She always texts me. If she ever came to visit and I took her places, would she have fun?
I am scarred for life from previous experience. Ugh...
Such deep philosophical questions turned over and over in my mind...but in the meantime I had to stay focused. There were things that had changed after my cousin's wedding. Plans. Priorities.
Then I cut my hair...
...and that's about when things REALLY changed.
So far only a few people understand the significance of this...but that's probably because they have known me for a very long time. It won't stay that way forever.
Another best friend of mine drove his car all the way out to LA from Phoenix just so we could kick it for a few days. He forgot to bring his camera, but that didn't stop him from just buying a new one. We documented our adventures:
First order of business (soul food):
Don't be a pussy - get the original:
Keepin' it homo:
Grauman's Chinese Theater - some dude on the left warbling:
Hollywood and Highland Center:
Entrance to Playboy Mansion:
Redondo Beach:
Huntington Beach, Labor Day weekend:
Los Angeles, close to Elysian Park during Fuck Yeah Fest (probably just before Converge started melting faces):
Traveling close to the speed of light:
Ludicrous speed:
Waiting for Bossa Nova delivery, apartment balcony:
My mom came to visit shortly afterward. She went to a premiere of Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs with my sister and brother-in-law (who worked on the movie), and got to walk the red carpet and meet Mr. T:
Apparently Mr. T is a sweet dude. When my mom told him that she was a big fan, he said to her, "God bless." Then they all stood together for a quick iPhone picture. I wish I could make this shit up - I'd be rolling in royalties by now.After Mr. T's words of encouragement and my mom's inevitable trip back to New Mexico, another one of my best friends came to visit.
All she wanted to do was play video games and eat ridiculous amounts of food during her visit...so, I decided to pull out all the stops. We hit as many major food joints as we could possibly stand. We hit beaches, we hit a donut shop. We hit a tavern where she thought the vintage cash register was the coolest thing she had ever seen:
Redondo Beach in the afternoon:
One of my favorite pictures of Hermosa Beach:
The infamous cash register:
Huntington Beach on a Monday morning:
Santa Monica Pier at night:
Pink Berry before flying home...that and the new "hair cut":
I probably gained about five pounds from that visit - but eventually lost it all over again due to my strict diet of "oatmeal and tuna fish."I made a trip to orange county for an art show featuring some of my roommate's girlfriend's artwork and got my first request ever for a postcard from the girl I met at Sound and Fury.
I've never had a girl ask me to send her a postcard before...not even when I was dating someone. I don't really know what that means. All I know is that I liked it, and I hope she keeps asking for them.
One season of The Office, a season and a half of Californication, Three seasons of Dexter and a postcard later, I find myself staying up way too late for my own good...but at the same time as a side effect of always having to close the Goddamned Blockbuster in Hollywood.
I would love more than anything to be able to say that this hasn't been an evasive attempt to avoid putting my all into a colorful adaptation of my life from the last two months...the last two months that I can't seem to remember well enough (or perhaps don't have the patience to sit down and recapitulate). However, if I said all that...it would be a fucking lie.
Therefore, my readers - you will have to excuse me...
I need to study for the AFOQT.
