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Saturday, December 30, 2006

the year in scott...

Wow, its december 30th already. I just returned from spending a whirlwind of a week in Sarasota, Florida with mi familia. And while many wonder just what Sarasota, Florida (specifically Siesta Key) has to offer my modest midwestern family of 5, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't initially skeptical as well.

It started as a family reunion. A family reunion where our grandparents have a view like this every single night.





Quite spectacular, I'll agree. But does a view make a vacation? Could I justify 8 days with 19 other towlers just for some fun in the sun? The answer, I quickly found out, was yes. While the view above is amazing, we didn't stay anywhere near there. In fact, we stayed on the key, about 20 minutes from our grandparents, each family getting a condo for a week. We were down there to celebrate my grandfather's 80th birthday, but also to have the family come together for 'one last hurrah' as my grandmother tragically put it. All somber notes aside, it was amazing to see my little cousins, the majority of them all grown up now. As the oldest grandchild, edging out my cousin Thomas by a few mere months, it was a very different experience for me. Thomas as well, I'm sure. Instead of playing in the sand without a care in the world, the focus was on us: what we've done with our lives, and where we see them going in the next decade.



It was tough to try and peacemeal together my career thus far. Like the ebb and flow of the tide there, my career has seen the highest highs and the lowest lows in a very short period of time.



See, what I couldn't explain to my family is that this town is as much about getting there as it is being on top. While I'm looking back on two and a half years with little physical proof of progress and promise, I know in my heart and mind that I am on the path to greatness. Communicating that to my family turned out to be one of the hardest tasks I've faced in recent memory, but I decided to not let it ruin all the good times we had ahead of us.



Nestled in the heart of the condo/resort district, we had miles of private beach to walk, lounge, and play the family football game on. It was great; each day rising once my hangover was gone, heading straight to the beach for 3-4 hours, only to retire to our condo in preparation for the night ahead.

Christmas may have been the holiday we were gathered for, but much to my disbelief, it was one of the more calm and chilled out nights of the break. We spent an evening at our grandparents country club with 100 of their best friends, and then a night at our great aunt's building, being waited on hand and foot.

Now, I'm no spoiled brat, but when you get treated this way...you start to like it. Being a little older now, I realized that my family, or any for that matter, isn't as picture perfect as they seemed in my youth. But conversely, what I learned at this age- the images and memories I took away from this trip- mean a hell of a lot more.

Poised atop the kids table for a week, I got an interesting perspective of the Towlers at large. It can be summed up in one phrase...one that rung so truly, I plan on making it the title of my first book:

There's no lies at the kid's table.

And its true. Being a kid was so simple. And kids don't lie- they're too pure, and have no reason to do so that can benefit them. Its a very intriguing notion, and I explored it deeply, becoming closer with my cousins than I ever thought possible for 1 throw away week in Florida.

..............................

Now I am back in Los Angeles. And thinking as retrospectively as I've been, I started to look at 2006, and what the year was to me. As I'm sure many of you remember, I declared 2006 the 'year of the scott.' It was far from it. It began with Arrested Development getting the axe, and me returning to Los Angeles, trying to sort out just what to do next. I took work on 2 pilots, neither of which went to series. After a brief period of unemployment, I landed a gig on the show 10 Items or Less. A series, yes, but far from a traditional one. We shot 5 episodes. I was lucky to get as much work out of it as I did.

But then October came. No current shows needed crew members, and all mid-seasons were already crewed up. Between a rock and a hard place, I once again found myself unemployed, splitting my time between dayplaying on reality shows and extra work.

Now I sit here, looking at that year. It wasn't bad. But it could have been a hell of a lot better. It gives me something to legitimately shoot for in 2007, as this year wasn't exactly one for the record books.

.........................................

I'm not all rain clouds, I did a hell of a lot of great shit this year as well.

Grant and I moved to Los Angeles, leaving the valley far behind.

I gained elegibility for the Screen Actors Guild, the seminole introductory step to making it big.

I met tons of new people and made lots of new friends and contacts.

And most importantly, I haven't lost sight of my goals and will not quit til I am satisfied.

Much love to all of you, and I wish each and every one of you the best 2007 this planet'll ever see.

Monday, December 11, 2006

A note of some importance

Tonight marks the 3rd installment of TBS's new series 10 Items or Less. Tune in and show it your support, and visit these sites to make sure we come back for a second season!

10 Items on Buzznet

10 Items forum on Buzznet

check them out! now!

Monday, November 20, 2006

my neglected namesake...




Christopher Willits- Surf Boundaries
Its been ages, I know. And tomorrow I leave sunny LA for an albeit brief, but much needed hiatus. To rural pastoral America I go, swing state by swing state until we've won em all! No voting public left behind! Or something...
Anyway, I wanted to drop this CD to the masses as it skyrocketed to one of my new favorite albums of all time. Its hard to describe, and I know little to nothing about this Christopher Willits fellow, but you've gotta check it out. I caught wind of this through an amazing musical ear, one belonging to Desmond of Mowtown. He always has good shit. In this batch, he sent me this disc and Phoenix's Its Never Been Like That, a disc I gave a perfect 10 some time back. You can relive that magical moment here.
In any event, that disc was old news. This one though...wow. Here's a review he sent along with it initially...
"California-based guitarist Christopher Willits settles near the shores of pop with Surf Boundaries. On his breakthrough LP, Willits merges the patterns of his signature guitar sound with treated strings, brass and five-part vocal harmonies for a sonic vision that draws upon elements of shoegaze, jazz, ambient and noise. Recorded during the rise and fall of an intense personal relationship, the album's spectrum of emotions naturally emerged from the sea changes of lovers' boundaries, and the ultimate necessity of freedom and letting go. The vocal motif of the aptly titled "Colors Shifting" (sung by Willits and Ultra Records' Latrice Barnett) appears in three variations, giving the album a rough beginning, middle and end, while other tracks full of electrified drones, intertwining melody lines and smooth guitar loops weave into the album's structure seamlessly."
Now, I'd love to credit that to someone, but I can't. Seems like a good review though, right? This guy or girl ain't even close...
Call it Pet Sounds for a modern audience. Just throwing the word surf into the title immediately lends itself to make the assumption that this music is meant to be listened to on the back of a surfboard, standing up to catch the break at its' peak. And the cacophony of digital noise and harmonic instrumentation creates a synthetic feeling that you're there already.
The obvious metaphorical analysis is easy to find...written when he was in a rollercoaster of a relationship...so the ebb and flow of the waves echoes the drama in his real life yada yada yada. Forget all that BS. Just listen. This disc is a surfire "who is this" CD, one that will go overlooked all year. Unless you take a chance.
Much like the glitch DJs of today, or even the DNTEL/Ben Gibbard pop-style glitch that has become highly popularized (running the gamut from Prefuse 73 to Caribou all the way back to something as mainstream as Beck or Broken Social Scene). Point being, he finds as much music in dischord and audio blather as in his formed structured pieces. And while some critics find that self indulgent, I love it. Let a musician find something he loves. Let him dwell within in and create whatever makes sense to him or them.
Don't come into this expecting anything. I didn't. I just took the advice of a music lover's taste that I respected. You should do the same. I think you'll find that between most of the commerical trash of today, and the narrow minded folks over at Pitchfork that this album will be a keepsake, an eyrlum, a faded photograph. A moment in time when you didn't think about a thing...
except catching that next break and riding it to shore.
Download: "Yellow Spring"
Rating: 9 / 10
Now, onto the meat of whats been going on. As I mentioned, I'm heading to a different time zone tomorrow for the break. Between my last post and today though, I've been dividing my time through a multitude of activity, work and recklessness. First of all, I've been keeping up with the extra work. And really, for those of you who've ever heard otherwise- ignore it. Anyone can take the steps to becoming an actor out here. After those baby steps though, its up to you to be the one that shines.
In light of that, I really take extra work seriously. And I know that sounds lame in some ways, and for those of you who have done extra work, you know that 90% of the kids there could give a shit. They want their pissant paycheck, and they want to leave. They bitch the whole time, and really annoy the hell out of me. Because most extras are like that, most 2nd ADs tend to babysit them, treating them all as if they were 2 years old. And rightly so, they've never been given a reason to do anything otherwise. But there's a difference sometimes. Sometimes an actor comes along- an actual actor- and really shows the crew that they are there to work.
Most 'actors' out here will say, "if my agent knew I was doing extra work, they'd tell me to stop." Why is this mentality the norm? Because if you have faith in yourself...if you're an actor who can cut it, then you're not an extra. You know that, you embody it, and your agent knows as well. Why waste time in the background when you want the foreground.
I agree with that after someone has paid their dues, but I've also walked into an auditon where the casting agent said, "Now, do you know what 'back to 1' means?" I got up and walked out. Hey- non actors who are reading...read that aloud. What do YOU think it means? That's right! Return to your start position, we're shooting it again.
Sadly, many MANY extras can't even do that. So one tends to stand out by asking informed questions, knowing when and when not to talk, and following directions. Cause after all, a DIRECTOR gives DIRECTION. If you can't do it as an extra, you just plain can't do it. Nuff said. Its like Clint Eastwood's school of thought: he gives his actors 2 takes. If they can't get it in 2, then they weren't meant to do the scene.
Anyway, that was a total tirade, sorry. Aside from extra work, I've been doing some freelance in the reality TV world, working on pilots for HGTV, Rachael Ray, and even The Biggest Loser 3 technically. Reality ain't my bag, but sometimes it pays the bills. And speaking of- I interviewed to work for Mark Burnett. Don't know the name? Get your shit together. He's only THE NAME in reality. Still waiting to hear, and apparently the desk has yet to be filled. Keep those fingers crossed kids.
Gish and I have been working on a script. We're quite pleased. More to come later.
And finally, a few former Arrested Development alums have created something hysterical. Check it out, its worth you're time. Safe for work, and one hell of a good laugh. Peep them Tom and Sam are Stuck.
Other than that, I am pumped to hit the road. Call me for a thanksgiving wish- love to you and yours.
And I promise kids, I'll be back in full effect soon. Satz- 1 week bitch!

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Life is all about letting go

Time for another melodramatic post from yours truly. Currently listening to the Rogue Wave single "Eyes" first featured in the movie Just Friends, with the lovably affable Ryan Reynolds, arguably (at least to me) one of the best comic actors today. His timing is impeccable.

Oh, and this song has also lent itself to the hit show Heroes on NBC mondays...if you aren't watching this show, then you can't even begin to understand that something is actually missing in your life.

Anyway, I thought it prudent, what with the worst smog I have ever seen in LA today, to write a little bit about what comes next. No, I don't mean the eventual rise to success we all crave, or even its eventual downfall, compelling many 'garden variety' liberal arts kids of today to procliam, "My life is a tragedy." In other words, a mid life crisis.

The sad thing is that using the word tragedy so freely is a major misconception of that word's meaning. Those of you not versed in theatre history, buckle in- a lesson begins here.

So of course we all know that essentially all that really old theatre (thousands of years old) can be broken into 2 categories before we homogenized them and eventually found its modern manifestation. Those two time periods are loosley coupled into Greek and Roman theatre.

These two eras were vastly different, one aligning itself with nature and the world of polytheism, the latter putting its faith in a sort of pre-humanism, a faith in man, not in god. A verdict from a democratic unbiased council, not a predestined fate from the gods.

From the Greeks, the earlier of the two by a long shot, came several concepts still employed today. Ever been to the Hollywood Bowl? How bout Deer Creek or Riverport? All of these theatres employ terraforming as their main basis. You sit in the naturally land-formed bowl, and the sound fills in around you, 9 times out of 10, with better acoustics than are even seemingly possible.

That's just one of em. But also from this time comes the classic Sophoclean work Oedipus Rex. This was, and will always be, the original defining tragedy.

We have formed a definition of the word tragedy through the course of events in that work*, using that play as our boundaries for what tragedy is, or forever will be. What did we find? Tragedy isn't just something tragic. No, in fact the adjective tragic is a derivitive of the word tragedy, obviously, but if you can ever track down a good dictionary, it should have them listed seperately. Why? allow me to define tragedy, in my own words.

tragedy:noun; of or pertaining to (hey, all definitions start with that mumbo jumbo) a course of events where someone successful and in power falls from their 'throne' through an error in their ways, only to find a lesson or meaning behind what went wrong. Often times the realization of this lesson results in the taking of ones own life.

Now, that is a definition almost strictly applied to the Sophoclean work. As I mentioned, dictionaries of today will say something vastly different.

The short long of all this crap is that none of our lives are tragedies. None of us have fallen from power, so applying that word will always be incorrect.

And why did I take all this time to say that? Because the life, the career I've chosen often thrusts me into rooms of people who don't know the words they are speaking, and really only care about name dropping. Hand in hand with that comes the coastal mentality that they are too smart to watch TV.

Now, I'll admit, I watch more TV than most, as it is my trade, and thus a form of work...that doesn't mean I class myself out of the medium. Its like someone saying to me, "well I loved Pointulisim, and most of Seraut's work, but the world art scene that was running concurrently- the picassos, that's not for me.

Its all art people. Even if TV is funded by the commercials between the actual show, it is art. So many people say they loved Arrested Development, and that it was too funny for TV. HBO's slogan is, "Its not TV, its HBO." Everywhere people think that if they watch TV it will lower their social status or make them dumber than before.

And for ages that plagued me, because I thought that made what I do, and what I've done with my life, completely trivial. But you know what? Life is about letting go.

So my annoyance and short fuse on that matter ceases here.

Long live madam Television!
*In case you've never read Oedipus Rex, here's essentially what happens:

A prophet tells Oed's dad that Oed will someday kill him, and marry his mother. Thinking it would undo the prophecy, he tells his right hand man to take Oed away and have him killed. The man takes Oed far away from the city, not having the heart to kill him, and leaves him there thinking so long as he is away, no bad can come. Instead, Oedipus encounters his father on the road one day and slays him. He returns to Thebes, his home, and marries the queen, his mother. When it is revealed that the prophecy was in fact true, his mother err wife goes and hangs herself. Oedipus gouges out his eyes, and is exiled away.

There's more to it than that, but it really is the original soap opera. Read it if you haven't, it's one of the most referenced dramatic works of all time.

Monday, October 23, 2006

in a little while...

Sorry I've been away so long. There's been so much going on, coupled with immense lethargy after the wrap of my most recent gig...and when those two start hanging out...well, we all know what happens: drug abuse, chronic alcoholism and mental dementia. Ha, I kid. Really what it means is that this lovely 'life-log' takes a less important role in what I do on a day to day basis. Sorry to be that way, but well...who am I kidding, I'm talking to myself, so who really cares.

The point is that here I am, I am back and writing to you (ergo me) again, and with much to say! Last time I wrote, I believe the Cards had just clinched against the Padres. Since then, we went to 7 (my prediction) with the Mets, and just squeaked by. Now, on the world stage, we stand 1 and 1 over a questionable pine tar handed former country singer's fried chicken ass hole! Detroit, for shame. You wanna win, at least use steriods...they're less obvious (did I really just write that?), and they taste better. Besides, like I need to warn any of you about the horrors of jerking off with a hand fulla pine tar. Lets just say the word superglue won't even do it justice. Although, I guess the other side to that coin, when using the juice, is that you'll just plain rip it off.

Ok, pine tar ain't so bad.

10 Items or Less finally came to a close, in a less than dramatic fashion. In fact, I spent my last week (of what I thought would be a cake walk) busting ass as hard as I did the 4 or 5 previous. I literally was spending 10 hours a day on the road, driving all over this goddamned city, but never actually leaving! You can only imagine how frustrating that must have been. Well, you're right.

I sit here, at 3 pm in LA and a bum, a female bum at that, is picking through trash cans outside my window. Only in LA (city or state abbrewviation accepted here).

Anyway, by the time 10 Items came to a close, I was so fucking done with that show I could almost taste it. And I think that the EP's I worked with knew I was mentally checked out. I mean, cause quite frankly...I can't drive in this town all day long and not poke a little smot. It just won't happen. There is too much traffic, I am too sressed out all the time, and without it, I'd either have killed someone by now, or been killed from running my mouth to someone with a gun.

So the stuff does have it's merits! And lets get rid of those 'parental advisory' stickers too! Yeah! USA!! USA!! USA!!

Sadly, I'd never beat Brock Obama and Oprah Winfrey...but then, who will? Perhaps they'll travel to the future, win, and then come back, win again and kick their old vote count's ass! Yeah, that'd certainly be the only way.

So after 10 Items closed, I worked a weekend on a short film some friends, and DU alums, were producing. It actually landed me a small role, and I got to manage properties and playback continuity, etc. Things like that. No one really realizes that you can shoot and shoot and shoot til you're blue in the face and out of money...but if that coke can in the one shot you wanted was different than all of the rest of the scenes, then it was for nothing, cause it will be forever flawed. There is so much that goes in to so little it's absurd.

That following monday and tuesday (we're into last week now), I worked on an HGTV pilot called Buy It. It was fun. A whole sleuh of people I'd never met before, so it was a great way to make some new contacts, and even some new friends. Ok, contacts. Whatever. That's just the LA word for friends. Everyone uses everyone. Get used to it. The trick is how to play the game...like, I don't know... be genuine and real and don't succumb to that BS. That's what I did and look where it got me! Bright Lights, my name in a marquee, and millions of dollars and boobs.

After that show wrapped up I took a few days off and just sort of hung out. Scheduled some extra work for myself, and today, as of 1:30 PM, I am proud to say...

I am 100% SAG elegible!

And it feels great! Actually, it feels the same, but I was glad to get that last voucher out of the way, and finally be able to make the leap if and when I decide to. Not that that was an obstacle or a hurdle, but it was something I wanted. To prove I could. Now that's done with and I'm in the door. Just wait kids.

3 games in St. Louis...will this be the end of my season?

Was 2006 really the year of the Scott?

Can Powdered Toast Man save Ren and Stimpy before it's too late?

Find out next time on: SUPERBLAMO! Or was it SUPERB LAMO!!

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

re-cap

Just to cite one whirlwind of a Division Series playoff, the St. Louis Cardinals whooped San Diego's fucking ass, and are moving on to the LCS starting tomorrow on Fox. 8 pm eastern, 5 pacific.

go redbirds!

Friday, October 06, 2006

Let's make it 3 in a row!



Saturday, 1 PM EST (10 AM PST), St. Louis Cardinals vs. San Diego Padres ESPN2

check you local listings for more details.

after the game I'll be heading to Dodger stadium to watch the Dodgers lose to the Mets! What fun!

Have a great weekend kids! And get off the damn roof!

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

album of the week



BECK- The Information

You know what, FUCK PITCHFORK*. Those guys have gotten so elitist. Wait, gotten? I meant are. Have been. Will be. Can't not be. Sure, give Beck a 6 point whatever, but do it because you liked his efforts on some rare b-side no one has ever heard and you think you're cool cause you reviewed it, blew your socks off. But there's a paradox as a pitchfork reviewer. To share this great music with the world, or not to. More oft than not, they share it. But they share with us what they think is good, a far cry from what the average ears wants to listen to. Sure, I love the Junior Boys now, but would my kid cousin? No, but I bet he's heard of radiohead, and I bet somewhere out there, someone has drawn the comparison, so in that regard, I can shed light as to what the Junior Boys are, and maybe peek his interest.

That was a tirade.

What I mean to say is that Beck is about as pop culture as you can get, in a good way. Beck made the term 'hipster' a reality in 1986. Seriously. And for all of you keeping score, that was 20o years ago. So if you think you're hip now, chances are you're not, so get over it.

But Beck has always been, and he's yet to put out an album that proves otherwise. I use a simple test when reviewing an album. Can I listen to it in a home, AND can I listed to it in a car. If both are true, you've got a bonafied hit on your hands. This album tends to fall closer to the 'in the car' category, but regardless, its stilla great effort.

Because, and getting right back to it, I guess my biggest complaint about pitchfork is that they are only looking at this one guy's one effort. I don't think you can really do that. Rather, I think its important to note that Beck is on the front of culture here, especially with today's youth, and the albums he puts out are always good. So you don't like track 7. BFD loser. Just because one song, which would never be a radio/MTV single anyway, isn't top notch, doesn't mean the effort as a whole is far superior to almost anything else coming out right now.

There are two types of music people: inclusive and exclusive. Those that hoarde their music to themselves, and those that share it with others. Well, you can guess where I fall. Wait...ok, you guessed wrong. I am inclusive. No, really I am. I just hate indie kids.

And that's different.

Anyway, not much actual reviewing going on here, but this album is fantastic to either passively enjoy or actively dissect. Try doing that to Cat Power's new whatever the fuck who cares Pitchfork Devendra Banahart. Good for him.

Download: Soldier Jane

Rating: 8 / 10

*realize, of course, that although this site is elitist as fuck, they also open some doors to the avid music fan, exploring genre's and artists some people would never know existed otherwise. So I can't totally say that, but as a person that used to visit their site daily...well, those days are long gone. Ok they're not. Fuck you.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

mi hermano

talkin to my brother on the phone. He just described someone as 'needs-his-own sitcom-gay.' God I love that kid.

The ties that bind

Recently, and in case you've been holed up with Osama B'laid-in, you probably know that Arrested Development Season 3 has come out on DVD. See, here it is:



Anyway, I was talking to my brother little, and he informed me that the shot that I claimed was in Episode 11 originally is actually there! So for those of you who obsessively buy all these DVDs (just like they want us to), look out for me in Episode #311, entitled "Family Ties." If you need a breief synopsis, basically Michael discovers there's an N Bluth somewhere, then he thinks his birth certificate could say Nichael. Absurd. Anyway, the discovery he finally makes is that he has a sister named Nelly Bluth, played by Jason Bateman's biological sister Justine Bateman. Sound familiar yet? Anyway, when its all said and done, she turns out to SPOILER ALERT be a hooker that George used to have sec with. Yes I said sec.

Anyway, when Justine is describes her "do's" and "don'ts" they swing the camera around the group of eager employees. If you look to the upper left hand corner, there I am baby, smack dab in the 'way off to the side.'

Anyway, I typically wouldn't make any deal at all out of some BS extra work, but this is Arrested Development people, the greatest show of our generation. Well, that and Seinfeld. Oh, and the Simpsons.

Oh, and War at Home, yeah, can't forget them...as much as we'd want to.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

album of the week- week eleventy-twelve



My Morning Jacket - Z

This week's love (thanks david gray for the catchy first 3 words) comes to us from My Morning Jacket. I have a lot to say about these guys, so bear with me, if you please.

Let me start by saying that my knowledge of these guys, this sound, this scene...well, its all very remote. As far as stuff like this typically goes, I just wait til I hear a really great review of the album, sample it, and then if I like, buy.

Yeah, no shit. Its called everyone ever.

Ok ok, but the point of all this is that typically, this whole LA indie sound gets really annoying. Everyone out here is trying to be hipper than the next, listening to shit that is so esoteric that its borderline crap. Where is the fine line of difinity?

I'll tell you where, in each and every person. We all make the choices we do on our own, or so we would think. In reality, its some derivative of what our parents look like, what our friends look like, and the culture that surrounds us. Classic nature vs. nurture situation. We're a product of our environment, plain and simple.

That being said, I didn't want to fall in line with all the indie kids when I moved out here. Cause I looked at these people, clustering them all together, and all I could think was: I live in a city full of posers.

Which leads me to the end of this obnoxiously long-winded forward, by saying that because of my persception of those people, I've never been on the up and up of indie music. So, suffice to say I am what seems like years behind the rest of the world, just now listening to this band, and instantly becoming obsessed like so many already have.

My Morning Jacket...god, just the name is awesome. I see this wonderfully vivid images of my father running over hill and knoll somewhere in maine in the middle of october. Its 6:03 am, just after dawn, but the light has yet to crest the valley. Each stride ever more difficult, he slices through thick layers of fog, plastered to the pastoral landscape as if it were a Paul Coronoyer painting. He doesn't feel the moisture, for his arms are shrouded in layers of light weight breathable poly-cotton blend with pattented collar. Yes my friends, I am referring to none other than the genuine members-only jacket.

And that was my J Peterman for you.

Getting to the music though, (told you I was going to blather on. Yet you still read. What's wrong with you?) these guys really have it together. Relative major 3rds and 4ths and 5ths traversing 3 instruments...really textured sound...a variety in their sound scape so eclectic, you'd think you had a mix of 4 or 5 bands. This album has it all folks. There are also a few tracks that have the rum-pum-pum feeling to them, almost like a sea shanty (chanty? shantee?) or being at the big top. It feels light, frivolous, fun, but the subtle genius stares you in the eye the whole time.

Basically, this album is a Salvador Dali painting, appreciating with every second I lend my ear to it.

Normally I would suggest a similar artist/genre for you folks to chew on, so that if you were nervous about getting your feet wet, or making an impulse buy, you'd have firm ground to stand on. Well...as I mentioned before...that's kind of hard to do here. But let me see if I can try.

In no alphabetical order of any way

James
Wilco
The Kinks
Operation Ivy (see, I told you so)
The Wrens
RogueWave
Phish
moe.
The Grateful Dead
Beta Band
Uncle Tupelo
The Who
The Ramones
Social Distortion
Sonic Youth
Pavement (but more harmonius...where pavement found beauty in dischord, this achieves the opposite)
U2
Coldplay
Keane
all that brit shit

and I could go on and on and on. For a masterful display of what they can do,

Download: It Beats For You

Rating: 9 / 10

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

no hand outs

When I think back on school and all the levels I've conquered (this is videogame metaphor people, so stay with me), the bosses I've fought, lost to, learned their ways, battled, and then finally eclipsed, have come and gone. And in a nostalgic sort of sense, when I think back about the way things were, all I can think is: man, we got screwed. I can trace it all back to one thing; one thing that derives from another: a period of time in our education called 'busywork,' wearing a tiara of 'hand-outs.'

Ah yes, the everloving hand-out. Fill in these blanks, circle true or false, match column A with column B. Its all a bunch of bull shit if you ask me. Like, what were we doing all these for? Does someone, somewhere, have a file of every hand out I ever did? If so, can we go back to that social studies quiz I had in 7th grade and correct the answer I put when the teacher asked "What's the capitol of North Dakota?"

I said Bizmarkee.

Nope, turns out he didn't bite.

I don't know why I thought of this out of the blue, I just hated hand outs cause its like asking a teacher to turn on cruise control. I didn't learn from them, and neither did they.

nuff said.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Grant's mom has got it goin on

woot woot! Publish or perish! That's what they say. And Grant's mom is living proof. Check it, as this blog takes a roadtrip to the outhouse life

Look at her go! Buy that book! But don't tell big brother...

Apparently I'm latino...

Well, I was doing a little self indulgent web surfing, really just making sure my IMDB credits came up when I searched my name...and lo and behold, I stumbled upon this site right here . I'll let you follow the link.

Now, after gazing upon that amazing page, it doesn't seem too odd does it? I mean, I originated the role, so my name should be there. Yeah, sure...now look at the title of the page (located at the top dummie).

Yeah, so look at me ma! Soy Latino! Soy Latinisimo!

Anyway, now I am sure a whole sleuh of people are wondering...if scott's really latino, then what does he look like?

Well I'm so glad you asked...

reflections 5 years after 9/11

This is a time in American history, and perhaps the first of our generation, where we can actually reflect on something that happened during our adult lives. Just like the death of Kennedy, we all know exactly where we were when 9/11 happened...we can still practically smell the room. We can see that same news clips 1000 times over in our heads. And after 5 years, it hasn't gotten any easier.

We take for granted what we have here, years and years of history and war: none of it touching our soil. But it really sinks in quickly when something that large, that dramatic, that catastrophic happens out of the blue, and alters your perspective for the rest of your life.

I don't really have a lot to say here, except that this is a time for reflection. I am sure it would have sunk in more for me, like it has for many of my friends, if I had known someone involved with 9/11, or someone who lost a loved one. The funny thing is though, and perhaps this justifies just how grand of a scale this was, but everyone in America is either directly related to, or once removed from, actually experiencing this first hand.

That to me makes this more real than we could have ever thought otherwise.

Anyway, while you sit there with your ipods and your cars, remember that we don't swerve around bomb holes in the street, we don't wake up checking if we're alive or just dreaming and dead. We never really understand this whole thing until it touches us. That time it did, and it still rings true today.

RIP to all those who fell victim to those awful awful actions.

USA or death.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

hollywood's worst kept secret



Well, it should be no surprise by now, for you people in middle america (think: pauly shore, Son in Law). Never has there been a larger cover up in all of hollywood than the "I swear, I'm not gay. America, love me! I did Saturday Night Fever!"

Or, the more recent one..."I'm trapped in the closet!"

Now, I know I've told a lot of my pals back home all these hollywood conspiracies, and no one believes them. Ever. And I can't say I blame you. Hollywood does a good job making people think that things are a certain way.

Well, hopefully this will serve as the first of many "See, I told you so" moments. Not to be rude like that, but more so because everything is not always as it seems...

kind of like this...



or one of these...



I can't see magic eye photos, so someone tell me what it is. And I wanted a Where's Waldo photo for you guys, but they are tough to come by. So I give up.

But hey, won't it be fun when Tom Cruise is outed next? Then we can have more magic eye's and highlights magazine!

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

album of the week



Red Hot Chili Peppers- Stadium Arcadium

Well, I never thought I would review anything this 'major label' ever. But as it happens, I feel a real connection to these guys, seeing as they along with Nirvana, STP and Sound Garden were the voices of my youth. But long before the days of Incesticide and Black Holed Sun came the Red Hot Chili Peppers. And they emerged into the alternative scene far before it was a scene at all. Although, I must confess, after living in LA for a while, I can see why I didn't hear of alternative until 3 years later. Things just happen first on the coast. I can't explain it. Anyway...on to the album.

The days of Blood Sex Sugar Magic are over. There is no 'Breaking the Girl.' There is no real identifiable single or leading song that dominates this two disc set. In fact, over all, I could probably hand pick 14 of the songs they used to make one disc called Stadium Arcadium abriged and it would be better than this disc for them.

Its alwways a worrysome sight when a band that has done seemingly nothing since Californication releases a 2 disc set. Did they have this many songs built up? Did they have an album and a half and decided to use some b-sides? Regardless, what follows is a hodgepodge of funk induced rhythms and overly RHCP-esque harmonies over slow strummed acoustic guitars.

WITH THAT SAID...

Who doesn't love the RHCP? I mean, for being mainstream music these days, they still are quite an act. They put on an amazing show live, and have released some of the most influential albums of our days (you 20 somethings out there). My only issue came with trying to stomach 2 albums worth of similar sounding music. I couldn't do it. Not that I didn't want to, but I'd get 35-45 seconds into a song, and just get bored with it, a trend I find more and more with bands that have lost their edge and are now just trying to sell records.

All in all, I wanted this album to be One Hot Minute, a disc that I consider to be the last good release from these guys. It isn't, it falls majorly short. But that doesn't mean that you can't have a great time listening to these guys do what they do best.

And you gotta hand it to a band that acknowledges thier sound and then thrives in it. I know modern critics always look for evolution in sound. But in Kansas, people, they don't believe in evolution. And we are in Kansas anymore.

Plus they had already put out a greatest hits. It almost feels like they already gave up before they even put this out. But again, I feel like its a major label trying to breathe new life into a otherwise dying company. Old hat this day and age.

Download: Slow Cheetah

RHCP on the web: Red Hot Chili Peppers

Rating: 4 / 10

Rating if it were one album of the good tracks: 6 / 10

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

a medium pace

I am having trouble finding a balance between MO life (a slow pace) and LA life (a fast pace). I have determined that a medium pace is the pace I need, but how do I regulate pace when it is so entirely out of my control. Like in that Adam Sandler song. You know the one...a medium pace. Where he had that hilarious line about taking a shampoo bottle and sticking it up his assuming that no one has heard that song, I'll move on.

Sometimes I feel like I am the only one who notices the world or views it the way I do, in this jaded little bubble that I flaot within. Truth be told, that too is out of my control. Its like when a woman says about her future hubby, "I can change him." Well, I can't even change me at this point, so you doing so is a BIIIIIG yeah right.

Not that I don't want to change some things, or haven't thought about the way things would be like if they were just a wee bit different, but its like...at this point, I think I am who I'm going to be. Quite a stupid revelation for my quarter-life, but then again so many adults assume that the 20-somethings of today don't think down the road or retrospectively at all.

In fact, I think its our generation that is doing the real thinking. Maybe not on a global or universal scale, but at least in the regard of our own cosmology. The world we exist in, who we want to enter and depart from it, where we live, work, what we eat and wear. These all may seem meaningless now, but with how much scientific shit comes out every single day about how 'obesity is linked to ovarian cysts' and 'scientists erased the memory of a rat...' Well, its just all too real and too connected for any intelligent person to assume that when I wake up everyday, I don't think about where I've come from, and where I'm going to.

If anything, its the people of today [the adults of today I guess] that need a head check. What with all this drama about fuel and global warming, world war 3 and poisonous goldfish, well...the progressive are generally young. Its the old crumudgingly bastarish folk that ruin this world for the rest.

You know, I started writing all this shit and I think I'd like to change gears. So this is getting abandoned, but I figure why not leave it here and let you ponder life's questions unanswerable.

So I really have a lot of ideas and goals. Albeit lofty ones, but its as I've said since day one. If you don't dream big, you'll never live big. You'll never be happy, and you'll never get what you want. In keeping with that theme, I want to write all these scripts and have all these ideas and I do, but its so hard to get other people on the same page. To top all that off, I don't want to be an EP. Well, I do. But not an active one that makes every call. I want to write and act and sing and dance, but I don't want to think about how to shave 20,000 off overhead and deal with a group of extras that is filing a grievance with the union cause they didn't get a smoke bump. That just isn't me.

But you know what kills me? That seems to be the only way to get what you want out of this business. Pave your own road. I don't know. It just kills me because I was so fucking active in high school, hooked on leadership like oxygen to a stroke victim, and only wanted my schedule more filled and more cluttered to the point that I didn't have any time at all to sit still.

The issue nowadays...I totally burnt myself out in HS. Like, I did all this shit just to get to some other plateau: college. And what after that? I move here. And what after that? Aww fuck man, I gotta be a leader all over again?

And let me clarify. I know leadership is a gift, and its one most people don't have. I also know that the desire to be in front of a crowd is pretty rare as well. But these are two things that seemingly go hand in hand, and will be forever linked because of precedents set. Hell, all of our leaders, whether they be entertainment or political, are always in the public eye.

So I guess it goes without saying that if you want to get one, then you have to do the other. Or something. The synthesis. Wrong word probably. But isn't that the scientific method? Predict, try, fail, learn, new prediction, try succeed.

That's the pattern I am taking this day forward and we'll see where it gets me.

Tomorrow, a review of the Red Hot Chili Pepper's Stadium Arcadium.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Is this what they call blogs on a friday night?

A late post for me, seeing as by this time on friday's I am typically drunk or...not able to type...words...good. Apparently it doesn't take inebreation, as that last sentence was about as sad as me being stuck at work on a friday at 11 pm with my little brother in town for a mere 2 more days.

Oh wait!! I AM stuck at work. But fear not little ones, it doesn't really bother me all that much. See, the thing about this show, and when you see it, you'll get it, is that the people are what makes this thing.

Take today for example...when I got in to work, after delivering dubs across the town last night til 11 or so, I was greeted with a rude 'I still haven't had coffee, chillax' moment. My boss, a veritable genius who has run the gamut of work in this trade, had her driver's side window shattered last night. She lives in a rather rough and tumble neighborhood at night. By day, many baby boomers remember is as Venice, CA. A great place to buy pot, and the origin of the counter culture revoluton. Sadly though, I doubt Hunter S. Thompson was behind the break in. Anyway, these ass fucks didn't just smash the window, the ripped the door open. So bad that its gonna cost a g just to have anyone even cough near this damage.

And while most would think, "man, I've been worked raw this week- AND WE'RE IN POST!" I just took it in stride. Do what you gotta do when you gotta do it. Today that meant busting my ass to help my boss's situation and keep her mind at ease to focus on this show.

Anyway, I know that was long winded and seemingly never-ending, redundant and rather repetitive (I could go all night folks), but the point is that I've turned a corner. Instead of sweating this shit like the box of un-wearable undershirts I have tucked away in a fall out shelter, I just do it and smile. I feel good people, and this might not seem like a big deal, but it is.

I can't tell you the change from simply shifting my work day from 6am-7pm to 9am-whateverpm. I'm not waking when it's dark and goddamnit that's good enough for me.

Its a funny thing, this surreality...spending time doing someone else's small time BS work in the hopes that one day your true talents will be recognized and you'll rise to greatness. A funny thing, and a game I am learning to better play day in and day out.

Oh, as far as the car issue goes from before, the resolve was that there was no resolve. And my boss, like I am learning, just let it go. Serenity now, serenity now.

And you're not giving Lloyd Braun our water pick.



see, it's just that easy!

Thursday, August 24, 2006

el coyote nights > Pluto is NOT a planet

With Jeff in town, I wanted to do some of what Grant and Jon and T and I call the hollywood standards (no, not the standard in hollywood)...we had to call it the hollywood standard before copywright law fucked our asses like a first time male porn star paying his dues before he can go hetero for pay.

There's a lot of restaurants and things to do that fit that bill. As far as food goes, we consider our local neighborhood one of the best. We've got Wokano, all those lovely brunch places on 3rd st., Sushi Roku, St. Nicks, etc. Wait, scratch St. nicks. That place is a hole. Hole in the wall of boystown. But one that is somewhat out of our neighborhood is El Coyote. And I say that as a relative term, seeing as its really just 5 minutes away.

But we went there with these smokin hot girls and had a great time and I just wanted to share that with you all, seeing as his vacation here has been primarily opposite days abutting each other: one night we rage, the next I work 16 hours, the next we rage, the next I work 20 hours. Well, if the pattern holds true, we're looking at a long one today. So keep your fingers crossed that I am not stuck working until the fucking cows come home.

In other news, I gotta say I feel really bad for the band 2 Skinnee J's...many of you have never listened to them, but their album "Supermercado" is a fun party dance rock album from the mid 90s. And on that album, they have a track...and its called Pluto is a Planet.



As you can see from the photo, they take a lot of time pointing into outer space, worshipping their 9th god in this mad mad world...until one day...

today

when science declared that Pluto was no longer a planet. Yes folks, that's right...as of today, the top scientists of the universe have declared that Pluto is not a planet, and this goes against 76 years of research and data since its discovery in 1930. And its a precarious thing too, because if we didn't advance as a society, we would never have found pluto...but if we didn't advance further (making the hubble, etc), then we never would have refuted our previous inclination to call it a member of our system. Now its just a rock, frozen in temperature, and frozen in time, as Pluto personified takes time to reflect on all the great memories...



ok, good memories...



sheesh...ok, realistic good memories...



there we go. Pluto, ye shall be missed...

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

album of the week- week whatever



Sufjan Stevens- The Avalanche

It's hard to believe that this guy puts out albums that don't have a state name in the title, what with his ambitious '50 states' project that has already yielded the masterpieces "Greetings from Michigan, the Great Lakes State" and "Come on Feel the Illinois," but somehow he keeps on keepin on. In this case, "The Avalanche" is somewhat interconnected, as it has been dubbed a b-sides and outtakes reel of Illinois, but we all know what that means. Chances are he found some bits and pieces of other songs, etc. that through the magic of the studio, he was then able to spin into an album. And yes, it has the characteristics of all other '50 States' releases: long song titles, some interludenal pieces (was that a word?), and of course some reworkings of tunes he'd alreads cemented as catalogue classics. The most notable of these comes from the song 'Chicago,' which has been reworked 3 different ways. The first is memorable, but it doesn't even compare to what he calls the 'adult contemporary version' which cascades through his use of harmonium, bells, marimba, etc. He adds such texture to his sound, even to a song that was already so dense in layers it took a team of Outback Steak House employees just to make that onion a'bloomin.

And I digress. For the avid Sufjan listener, this album is a delictable treat. For those on the outside, it probably just seems like an exercise in futility. "Yeah, I made these tunes, and my record label wants me to release them." Not so though my friends, as Sufjan is on his own label: asthmatic kitty. And because of that, he really only puts out what he wants to. And yes, there are a few tunes on the album that are less than par, but over all its a great work. Because when you listen to his music, somehow you can tell he's just as in to making it as you are to listening to it: an experience you can't derive from many artists, especially this day and age.

Take time to enjoy the long intros and outros, the layered sound of his banjo and hollow voice, and the 4 part vocal chords that echo behind his already boundless sound.


Download: Chicago (Adult Contemporary Version)

Rating: 7 / 10

website: Sufjan Stevens

LA fans look out, cause he'll be here in October!

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

I don't oft get a lunch break

But when I do, I like to actually take a break and enjoy it. Maybe even do something with cardio involved so that I feel rejuvenated for the next half of the day. But more often than not, what ends up happening is that I get lunch at 4 PM and then have to get it to go, bring it back to work, and hear from the whole office, "where's my aft snack?" But see, what they don't understand is that they got lunch at whatever time they wanted, and I had to wait to get lunch until I was released, and able to do so, more often than not coming after I've taken their orders and then delivered their meals to them, after triple checking them for accuracy.

See, that's the tricky thing about this business...even at my level. Especially at my level. If you screw up, you're fired. That's why its so perplexing to me when I go somewhere to have someone serve me, and they just don't give a shit. I mentioned it earlier in my post about Dolce, but it happened again. I went to a Wendy's drive through. Just wanted 2 jr. bacon chee, that was it. A mere 1.98. No big whoop right? But this drive thru mexican butt fuck was so concerned with getting me through the line and on my way (wait, should I praise him?) that he rushed through taking my order and totally screwed it up. And here's the funniest part...I don't eat tomatoes...but I know better, in this town, than to make a special request. Namely because the calibur of people working at these places is such for a reason. I figure, why confuse them and press extra buttons on their 'even a dummy could shit on it and make it work' computer registers, why not just order it as is, and take off the tomato when it gets to me. Simple enough, right?

Or so I thought as someone who has virtually no knowledge of the English language is expected to then listen to my order through one of those squak boxes, translate it, and then get it right with a smile on their fucking face? It just doesn't happen. Not in Los Angeles. Sorry.

But is there no corporate responsibility anymore? Does a company not take responsibility for their actions? I was sitting at my desk before I realized I was handed 2 jr. cheeseburgers and not 2 jr. BACON cheeseburgers. Entirely different. These had ketchup, mustard, onions, pickles...basically the standard McDonald's burger served at Wendys. Welp, guess what? I don't eat fucking pickles or onions or mustard. And by this point, I've already wasted 1/3 of my 30 minute lunch break just going and getting this food. Now I gotta waste another 1/3 to go back and get it right? Does anyone feel me here?

So I go back there, sure. And he gives me the correct order finally. But I gave him some attitude. I talked SOOOOOO much slower than I needed to, over emphasizing each word, repeating the entire order, as if to say in a backhanded way that I was dissatisfied with him, and oh- look at you, you wanted to rush me out of the line, but instead you had to deal with me twice. And what's more...if he's working, it doesn't matter how long the line gets. He's there til he's off. Its not like when he's done, the whole drive through line closes and waits for their messiah's return. Fuck that shit.

When I come in, if I fuck up that bad (relatively speaking of course), I get fired. This dipshit won't ever even have to encounter his manager. They simply eat the cost of 2 jr. chee and move on. And sure, TV/film is much more high stakes, but again, relatively speaking, it isn't. Each action and reaction at a fast food joint is directly comparable to any action or fall out that comes with it in my biz.

Bottom line, you screw up, you better pay for it. Cause I can guarantee that no doctor will be able to trace my ulcer to 'a short patience with those less intelligent than you are.' I'll be lying on my death bed with this beaner laughing all the way to the border.

Oh well, at least I will never work in a Wendy's. Unless....

nope, can't figure out how to use photoshop on a mac, sorry no joke today.

Hello Kitty...



Last night, in honor of young Grant Gish and his big 2-5...we decided to have dinner at Dolce. We knew it was one hell of a drive to get there, and that we'd be waiting in line behind some C-list (porn) star, smelling her post-sex-unwashed ass, and wondering if she had just sprayed that dress on, or if polyester was even comfortable rubbing against a vagina.

Chances are, NO. Not a whole hell of a lot feels good rubbing a vagina, trust me. I'm a vagina doctor. What are those called? Vaginoctors. There we go. Anyway, as I was saying, it was this buffoon's birthday:




Yeah, that's what I said too. Anyway, seeing as Dolce does half price monday's, we thought there could never be a better time to go for it. So we did. And the food was everything we expected it to be: pretentious, fake tits, and smells like a bath and body works.

No no, I kid...the food was exquisite. The service was less than par, so I can see why people are hot and cold about that place. I mean, we by no means had a table in the 'cool' section. They put us in the back, abutting grey stone walls that looked virtually unfinished, surround by gaudy table cloths and menus, and then somehow surrounded by dimly lit terrariums...it just felt like a hodge podge of bull shit. Then to top it all off, this waitor, who was clearly a switch hitter, was rude as shit.

Maybe its just me, but I feel like (and this is because I was a waitor at one point as well) waitors just make up their mind about a table far before they even approach them. What do you see when you see 7 20-something guys eating at dolce? If it were me, I'd see a split check between 7 people, a forced gratuity if I were a dick (or if it were the restaurant's policy), and me not working as hard on the table.

All three were true, and it made me leave there rather sourly. Plus my lasagna was overcooked, so I was not that happy anyway.

When it was all said and done, I was glad to get out of there, but then I had to drive Jeff to Westwood (ya bastard), so he could chase tail once more. That lucky son of a bitch. And I really do find is amusing to me because I dated a girl who was really sweet, but it just wasn't the right time for me. Like, I wanted to spend a few more years here in LA dating...or at least being allowed to go check out a girl or something without a mrs. telling me my eyes shouldn't be wandering.

Speaking of wandering eyes...that whole concept really pisses me off. Yes, I know that when you're with someone you respect them, and they are your one, your all your everything...but attraction is nature. Not even human nature, just straight up nature. You see something you like, well...I got news for you, you're going to look at it. That's what happens. And I can't stand when there is some rule imposed saying that if you're with someone, you can't at least look. Looking allows you to get you fill without breaking the rules. The thought of controlling some boyfriend or girlfriends eyeballs is absurd, and high school was a long time ago, so I can't imagine people get that pissed off about it anymore.

Anyway...I have a ton of work to get going on here, so i am gonna fly. Have a great day, and make sure to have your pets spayed and neutered.

Monday, August 21, 2006

a song about words

After weeks and weeks of long hours and short nights, I am finally back into somewhat of a regular schedule. I've even noticed my sleeping pattern has improved since the show wrapped up last week, and now I am feeling much healthier, happier, and just great all around.

My little brother is in town for the week, if you know him or want to, now's your chance.

So just what the fuck has been going on with me? I mean, so much time passes, we begin to forget that at one point, I was writing in this thing once a day, regarding it as my closest friend and ally, and my worst enemy or foe. Now I am just glad to be backm filling its meaningless html space with words, notions, thoughts, and crazy theories about life. This post is no exception.

I've been depressed recently. I'm beginning to think that its because of the way I've been living my life, working from 6b am til 8 pm, waking when its still dark, and now going on 10 months without seeing my family- or their new home. I am so glad my brother is here for that reason, but I was reminded of a Kings of Convenience quote when I was really down in the dumps:

Homesick
Cause I know longer know
what home is

And I do, I do know what home is, but I also think it sort of as a "I'm in myh 20s, someday I want a home of my own." That really doesn't work does it. What I mean is that, you know...people have kids and make a life. I hope I do that someday as well. But this town is weird like that. Like, at least back home I thought I had a chance. Somewhere over the years I've gotten it in my head that the women out here are cold and unreceptive. I've learned nothing contrary yet, so I am inclined to keep feeling that way, even though I know if I just warmed up a bit, it would cause this cyclical thing and then they would in turn warm up to me, and then I to them again, and so on and so forth. We'll see.

Last friday, before getting my brother from the airport, I was given all these deliveries to do for work. Rush hour on a friday, and I get sent all over LA...that typically bugs me, but as it happened, I got sent on a different route than I normally take. I was driving north on Sepulveda from Olympic, listening to the Flaming Lips "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots," when I came upon a large cemetary. Clearly a US soldier memorial, as the the fields looked like South France today. Anyway, as I was passing, the song "Do You Realize" was on, and the line "That everyone you know will die" played right as I caught my first glimpse of this cemetary. As if that wasn't strange enough, I was driving down sunset from the 405 to Beverly Hills later that same run, and I was jamming to Barnaked Ladies, a group that I had shelved for near 6 years...Well, they are back now for me, and I am enjoying getting reacquainted with their music. As I was driving, one of their lyrics "If I was the sun, you would be in shadow played." And it played right as the sun hit my rear view, and then I turned right on that curvy Sunset Blvd. and entered shadow.

Music really is connected to those moments in life. Because you know what the most amazing part of it all is? No matter all the mathematical combinations and permiutations possible throughout time EVER, I experienced 2 anomalys in about an hour. Never do these things sync up in life. When they do, you create a moment. Once that moment, that memory is created, its etched into your brain and gets reminded every time you hear that song/lyric again the rest of your life. Sure, its cliche and cheesy, and yeah I am a total sap for that, but you know what: life is happening all the time, all around us. People that ignore it and discard cliche are missing some of the most succulent morseles that life has to offer. I weep for them.

I wanted this first post back to be about my words and my words alone. Its funny, beacuse for the first time in my life, I've actually wanted to keep a journal- like consciously thought about it, and I've been too busy to do so. I can't tell you how good it feels to be back, and I can't even begin to explain all the posts that are going to follow.

I want to make some art. I want to be a lion.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

been a long time, never shoulda left you (left you)

I am busier than a beaver.

whatever that means.

I promise more soon, including further coverage of the missing baby Suri, Mel Gibson's antics-semitism, and of course, a new album reviewed for your reading pleasure.

I am working long hours, and will be working through the weekend as well. I promise I will post as soon as I can, and let you know what's crackin for real.

Shot a film trailer last night. Didn't think I was going to make it in the film, but around 2:30 am I felt a lot better, and suited up. I'll leave this as a cliff hanger as well.

In the meantime, who better than Rob Schnieder to add some shameless plugs and useless insights to Mel's plight, which I have tentatively dubbed (getting right on the bandwagon of turning movie titles into slams): Brave-heathen.

it was the best I could do.

Friday, July 28, 2006

10 Items or Less...suriously



So, first of all I just want to apologize for my abscence from my writing, my websites, and my youth in general. I try to keep up, but when one works 14 hours a day on average, it gets hard. And then to add to that, when I don't have access to a computer, it gets even worse. Anyway, this show has been a fucking blast so far. Lots of work, lots of hard work. No sleep, save for the hours that my body physically collapses...its just been one hell of a ride. Anyway, the photo you see above is in fact of our cast. Its been slightly modified since then. The bald fellow you see in back, with the glasses, is Brian Posehn. You may recognize him from Mr. Show, or his Comedy Central Presents Specai. Point being, he's hilarious, but has moved on to do other work since then. He's been replaced with the guy in the orange neon vest. Who's playing his role now? A guy named Bob Clendenin. He works all the time. Look him up- IMDB. They'll share. And then of course every show needs an antagonist, so Jennifer Elise Cox has been added to the ensemble as well. She's done a lot of great work as well, but its important to note what I first recognized her from- The Brady Bunch Movie, where she played Jan Brady. Revisit that flick, jerk off to Christine Taylor, and make a day of it.

In addition to all that, the gentleman in the center there is one Mr. John Lehr. Pronounced Leer, so sorry Rob Lehr. This guy has worked and does work a ton. but I doubt most of his scripted stuff even does him justice. He also showed up in something that everyone in America has seen at this point. I would take time to talk about it, but the picture really says it all.



Yes, he was one of the world famous cavemen in the geico commercial which has been received so well and was so critically acclaimed that they shot like 6 more and its become modern art, displayed in multi-media museum spaces across the globe. And that, to me, is better than any movie role or whatever.

Anyway, this gig has been great, but its been taxing as well. The saving grace comes from our awesome crew, a team that might be the most awesome team ever invented. Like, suriously.

Speaking of Suri...siri mmmm...wait, suri...ok, so is it just me, or does siri have more A-list eye witnesses than the OJ trial. And yet, we've broken 100 days without actually seeeing her. Like, what is that? Jada says she's "beautiful" oh and the lovely and Leah Remini claims she's held and seen her. So I guess it's only scientologists and rich black people that are allowed to witness her. Hazaa! Hooray for hollywood.

If you ask me, this has the potential to be one of the largest conspiracies ever conceived by this sci-fi-by-night religion, one constituted of a hierarchy based solely on financial earnings. And I know this is a huge cover up already, but you know what? I think they're bluffing. In fact, I know they are bluffing. How do I know this? Katie Holmes is a lesbian. How do I know that? Cause she won't fuck me.

So,my charming yet brokeback roommate Grant informed me this morning that the FBI may be coming to our apartment to interview me. I won't say what for, rest assured its nothing negative, but it was just one of the most absurd things anyone has ever said to me. Because, you know...typically when someone says something in passing like, yeah watch out for the feds too, I laugh and let it roll off my shoulders. This, however, is completely different.

I'll let it go.

So I just found out that I am going to party my ass off this weekend. Go figure.

back to work, TV needs me.

Friday, July 21, 2006

the weekend comes...

well, this week has been one out of science fiction. I'm not sure what day it is, what month it is, season, etc. Its crazy, yes...but I've completely lost touch with normal society and this is my first return to that existence. Doesn't make sense does it? Well, perhaps I can explain it more and we can all laugh about how shiity my life was (and will be again come monday).

See, I work in TV production. That's what I do. And more often than not, its the only thing I do. This week was especially taxing due to an average call time of 5:15 am daily. Oh, and I live 30 miles from our set, so I have to leave at like 4:40 am to get to work on time.

ugh.

and yet, surprisingly, this is more common than you would think. This industry is based on a 12 hour day instead of your more common 8-10 hour day. And I'm not saying 'look at me, I'm working long and hard and you losers aren't worth shit to me. No, in fact that is not the case. The difference comes when you all have time for your girlfriends or boyfriends. Your social functions, your life.

These are things I do not get the privledge of enjoying during a production season. Instead, I come home so tiired and dead to the world that I have no other option but to sit on my couch and pass out eventually. But then I get torn because I want to stay up to have a life, but I'm not really doing anything.

Well, this weekend I am going to make up for it. Tonight its tennis with Jonny boy, and then a evening on the town. Tomorrow night I am having dinner in Chinatown and then heading to the Dodgers Cardinals game, thank you Mike Pincus.

Sunday will be more tennis and a whole sleuh of errands I have to run.

You know...reading this again...this is the most boring blog post I've ever made. And I don't intend to to anything about it.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

oh the time I don't have

Hey.

So, like...I know you want attention.

but I'm not your bitch.


ha. Listen everyone, I am in production hell right now (at work at between 5 and 6 am all week, off between 8 and 9 PM), and don't have a ton of time for this blog. I will do my best to post over the weekend, but I'm just gonna go ahead now and say that I'll be sleeping. drunk.

outside.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

pirates of penzance 2: the curse of the jade scorpion



ok, so I slept through the first one. So I really have no basis to even judge this movie against. But I do have the ability to view this movie as a free standing seperate work, since I basically slept through the first one.

With that said, this movie is awesome. Forget the actors and the 'no plot-plot' and everything. What really made this movie for me was the art direction, the sets, the amazing CGI, the costumes and make up...all those technical elements that we take for granted, that when actually don't think about. But given 50 million dollars to work with, they turn out really well, and production value goes sky high at that point.

I could care less if Jack Sparrow did anything the entire movie. In fact, this movie would have been just as good to me if Jack Sparrow was really named Jack "the sparrow" Kerouac, and he just sailed the seas for 3 hours, getting into hijinx and acting slightly gay/drunk. Wait, those are basically the same.

Anyway, for those of you who don't know, Johnny Depp modeled his role after Kieth Richards. Seems absurd, doesn't it? Yeah, but it makes sense when you really think about it. He basically is dressed the same way Kieth Richards always is, with some sort of bandana, messed up British teeth, and an outfit that looks as dated as...well...Kieth Richards actually is.

That being said, its hard not to like Kieth Richards, who said earlier this week that he's ready for another Stones tour, and eager to get back on the road. And to think, SNL made all those jokes about how Kieth Richards won't die.

Well, that's going to be true. It was announced recently that Kieth Richards has signed on to play Jack Sparrow's father in Pirates 3, sked to be released next summer, and probably at this point due to break its own gigantic record set this past weekend.

Those of you outside of LA...have you heard what it earned? 135.6 million its opening weekend. And that was just here in the US. Then Grant told me it earned another whopping 18 million monday night, following opening weekend. Even last nighht, at a huge theatre, we were elbow to elbow with people.

This movie is a cultural phenomenon. One that I think I need to capitalize on. Yaaarrr.


yaaarrr indeed.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

the age old question


vs.










So often in life we ignore what really matters. Trains exploding in India, genocide in Africa, AIDS in general, and of course...who was a more viable superhero: Super Pickle or Banana Man?

I know, I know...its seems as if the two can't even be compared. But I can remember, as a child, being in posession of both a banana man toy and a super pickle doll. Err...boy-doll. Shit, I am fucked here. Not a doll. A dolly. Wait, that's worse.

Anyway, I've done a lot of deliberating, purely based on the vague memories i have of even owning one of these things.

I can remember being about 7 years old and going with my mother to a toy store in Atlanta. This store had lime green walls with a more kelly green colored counter tops and trim. It was as if the purchase of super pickle was meant to be. And I may be slightly off about the details of the exact shop, but its a vivid memory for me, and I know I left that store triumphantly with a super pickle "toy."

I guess my biggest problem is that Super Pickle actually is a pickle, where as Banana Man was actually a man who was banana themed. Yeah, we all know what that means. Plus super pickle had this awesome cape and these little arms. And they didn't put stuffing in the arms, so it was like this firm pickle thing with these droopy arms that were striped white, blue, and red-orange.

Ok, this blog post is going boystown rather quickly. And in retrospect, it does seem a little odd that I had to phallus themed toys as a boy. Perhaps it helped shape who I am today: a chronic masturbator.

Anyway, now I am going to start my pursuit of finding a new super pickle plush toy (there's the term I've been searching for) as soon as possible.

And as far as the age old question about who was the better superhero? Well, I don't think either of them really ever did anything but helped some asshole at matel make money, so I'm gonna say this:

Super Pickle wins because Banana Man took himself too seriously. I mean, look at him up there. Flying through space like he's buz lightyear. That ass. Superr pickle just kicked it in hhis animated world with pickle girl and hung out. That seems more like me, so that is what I am saying.

Anyone else got a toy they remember from childhood? A good Teddy Ruxbin story? Add a comment, share it with the world!

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

tennis hero- alone

Last weekend we played tennis. It was fun. But now, it seems, tennis has become our drug of choice as we are trying to find any and every free moment under the sun (or moon...anyone know of any courts that have lights?) to play tennis. And play we shall.

Last night was a wash...I got off work much later than I should have...I'll hold my tongue on that one...but by the time I got off, it was practically dark, and when we went to the courts, they were all full. Fuckers. Who'd a thought, at fairfax high school, more than 3 sets of people would want to play.

The shitty thing is that since it's free, I can't exactly be like- hey, we actually signed this court out from 6-9 tonight. Sorry, come again! Out here, that'd get me shot...with a rubberband. And children would cry. They would, trust me- children cry. They make a habit of it.

Which reminds me...

Why is it that when I get on a plane, everyone always says "ooh- make sure not to make light of the 9/11 stuff."

"ooh, scott- don't open your big mouth and make some joke. They'll throw you in jail."

Well, for those of you who know me, you know I don't hold my tongue. Its just something I don't do. And I take pride in that fact, knowing that I don't "front" or give people some misconception of who I really am. Like, I could just sit there silently, looking hot (let me have this one), and not talk. Women would think I was this really complex guy who was sensitive and had his shit together. The funny thing is that I AM ALL THOSE THINGS...but when you open your mouth as much as I do, people tend to think differently.

Like, I'm not sure a woman has even looked at me sexually since...jesus...last summer?

Wait a second...where was I going with this? Oh yeah...so babies right? I get through airport security, I let them frisk me, pull me to the side, drug test me, beat me, etc. I don't say a word, I let them do their job, I respect them for that, and I sure as shit am not stupid enough to open my big mouth when I go to an airport. SO PLEASE STOP REMINDING ME. I'm not 11, I'm 111. Somewhere in there.

Anyway, after the ardous task of getting through security, I go and sit in a middle seat that's too small for anyone ever, and I have to listen to a baby 2 seats in front of me scream, piss, shit, kick, grab, bite any and everyone for however long the flight is.

Ok, where the fuck are the US Marshalls on that one? Its a total double standard. Cause if I get up, yell, cry, and shit myself- not only do I get thrown off the flight, but I get called a terrorist, and get detained.

Whatever happened to free speech? If I want to make a gun joke at an airport, I should be able to. Or do we just claim to support these tenets of democracy, and not actually enforce them?

Additionally, and I know what you're thinking...babies don't have control over what they do, so how can they be held accountable.

And we think some brainwashed terrorist is any different? I'm not kidding here people. The similarities are striking. But to then ground a flight cause I had wicked diarhhea and had to run to the front bathroom before I shit my pants? Well, America is getting a little too worried I think.

If a parent wants to bring a baby on a plane, then there needs to be a seperate sound-proof booth for them to sit in. Lets make it smell proof too.

What's that? Too much to ask of our airlines? Great, then here's a feasable way to make this actually come in to practice:

make anyone who flies with a baby sit in the very far back. Let them all be miserable together. Then, make the rest of the fucking plane first class and get me drunk. I swear, I'm half tempted to never fly again until I am 1st class all the way. Pretentious as fuck, I know...but I just can't take this double standard bull shit anymore.

And another thing...if you have a baby, don't get on a fucking airplane until they are responsiible enough to handle it.

Monday, July 10, 2006

insert caption here

Wile perusing the lovely site gawker.com, which, by the way is an awesome site for you celeb whores out there. I don't even know what to say about this, and gawker really didn't either, so I have decided to make up a little story...you know, from the horses point of view...enjoy:



My story with Horsey....horsey being Hillary Duff.

I started as a conglmerate of pebbles, some volcanic, but mostly just sandstone and things lower than 5 on the Moh's hardness scale. When I was conceived, the last way I thought I'd end up was as a horse head on the side of some crazy building. Traditionally speaking, its more of a gargoyle's job. And I ain't no stinkin gargoyle. Never have been, never will be. Not to say I am against gargoyles...I mean, I play poker on thursdays with some guys who are definetely more gargoyle than anything else, and we get along great. they're practically a chip off the old block (for the readers, that's the last stone-related joke I will make).

Anyway, I know what you're thinking...you're thinking 'ooh this is a total photo shop picture.' But it's not. Look, Hllary Duff gets harassed enough by actual humans, the fact that she would take time to still pose with them is a modern marvel. But after our briief photo session, she confessed that I was the first stone horse she'd even done a session with. Then she went downtown and did another session.

What? She's a busy girl...can't expect her to hang with me in the burbs all day now, can you? And I know this seems absurd, because quite frankly: I'm a stone horse. But get over it. The fact that I am a stone horse is the last thing we should even be dwelling upon. Rather, think about the tornado in the background there. Where did it come from?

I can tell you: it came froim me and Hillary's firey love. And it isn't going away.

And the gingerbread house? I can explain that as well. Essentially, even as a stone horse, a guy's still gotta work. I need to feed my kids right? After all, they are my little ponies. And I love them. And when their mother and I (who will remain nameless, the chunty whore) made these little blesssings, she left me high and dry for a gig as a horse podeum at Churchhill Downs. Good for her. Yeah, no worries. I'll just take care of the kids, and manage my career protecting a tornado ridden gingerbread house. Right?

I am also really happy that she is sitting on a cheeta print couch. Any horse print and she would have had some 'splainin to do.

Anyway, I'm just a stone horse trying to get by.

Got a funnier story? I don't doubt it. I am a moron, so you could shit on a CD and that would turn out better. Anyway, if you got something you think is a laugh riot, leave it as a comment, or shoot me an email @ askscottsomething@yahoo.com!

yay for absurdity!

hibachi!



This past weekend saw a lot of action for the sweetzer crew. We were berry busy, berry berry busy. But it was fun as hell, and between you and me- I wouldn't trade it for the world. What happened? Oh, so glad you asked because a whole hell of a lot did.

Friday night, I got home from work and Grant and I went to Target like the married couple we AREN'T. It was a blast. We got lots of goodies, and saw some of the best looking women in Los Angeles. I know, I know...I too have heard that the grocery store is where it's at as far as meeting women goes, but Target's got its charm as well. And much to my surprise as well, the groceries there were cheaper than that of Ralphs or Vons...maybe not Jon's, and certainly cheaper than Whole Foods, Trader Joe's or Gelsons. Ok, so that's a lot of grocery stores.

After Tar-j, we headed to the Souplantation at La Cienega and 3rd st. with our pals Charlie and Philberto. It was a dandy time, except that when we all left, we felt as bloated as we used to in college when we would leave the dining hall. Think: dinner at huffman, but they charged me 10 bucks to get in. Yeah, bull shit right? I even gave them my student ID and that didn't do me for shit! They wouuldn't take it. Then they tried to confiscate it. I was like, do you want it or not? Cause I can't keep getting my wallet out then putting it away, my doctor specifically told me not to do that.

Upon returning home, and crying about how much our tummies hurt, we decided the only cure was beirut and natural light. After that, we hit the bar and then came home. Jon and Matty were with me, but I passed out, locking them out of my building, like some total ding dong.

Saturday proved to be the opposite of glutony. Watched the soccer game, did 3 loads of laundry. Then we went and played tennis, something we're going to make a weekly routine now. Afterwards, we had reservations for 8 at Benihana, hence the lame picture, so we were pumped for that.

But as it so often happens, 8 became 4, and it was just Grant, Jon, Matt and I eating there. We got fat once more, and then headed back home to drink our faces off. I barley made it til midnight, as we sat through 2 pretty bad movies: Hostel and Nacho Libre. Ok, granted I slept through most of Nacho Libre (sorry to miss your call bangs!), but Hostel was tolerable. That's where I'll stop. Tolerable.

Sunday was of course the day that the team the US tied won the cup. Whoop dee freakin do for that. yay pepperoni nation. But afterwards I started work as a writer's assistant on a novel that a former boss-turned-colleage is writing. She made notes with me in mind, and after a short punch up session, we could both tell this was going to be a good fit.

4 hours later, I was back home, dining on t-bell with grish. We took in an Entourage (best of the season thus far), and then the new Chapelle's show (so glad they left out the musical guest- and added that tupac song! that was hilarious! I wrote this song a long time ago!) Then watched a few battlestar episodes (fuck you rob (and sarah)) and then hit the hay.

All in total, a busier weeekend than I have enjoyed in the past, but this time: it felt really good. Like I had a life.

and I like that feeling, I really do.

Friday, July 07, 2006

BONO-ER

So for those of you as bored at work as I am, did anyone see Bono's thingy at the top of yahoo this afternoon? His question was

'how can we end world poverty?'

Oh goodie, I am so glad Bono cares about world poverty. Maybe he can team up with Sean Penn and they can timeshare a boat together. Not a yacth though, that's too extravagant.

But I mean, come on here people. Has Bono really gained that much persuasion that he now is able to go to yahoo and say, I want to post a blurb on your home page that talks about poverty, so I can remind everyone in the worldwide universe just how obnoxious I am.

I mean, yes- poverty is a problem. A huge one. One of those issues that grapples the world because of its long-reaching implications, effects, etc. And that's all well and good (or well and bad), but who are the people who then say, well...Bono told us to fight poverty, so we are donating money.

wow, whoopdy freakin do.

Is it just me, or should poverty just be an issue we're all aware and active on anyway?

Besides, with the ebb and flow of life and the way things work...the world needs some poverty so that people have something to fight for. There has to be some bad so we realize how good it can be.

Because if poverty disapppears, then where are we? Some wack socialist republic? In the country I'm from- AMERICA- we persucted communists as recently as 50 years ago. Then why are people lapping up Bono's mouth piss like it's water in the sahara? It drives me insane.

I don't necessarily mind ALL of U2's music. They have, in total, a collection of songs (that would be about an LP's length) that I like. Beyond that, there is no explicable reason as to why Bono is given a nobel peace prize. He's just a fucking rock star, nothing more, nothing less.

And while I do agree that haviing a celebrity endorsement on something like this will increase awareness, and get more people involved, but its not like poverty is a new thing. And another thing- what is Bono in the fight against poverty?

PR

does a global issue like poverty need PR? No. Caring about something like that, doing something about poverty, that's something that is in you. Inherently. Good people do good things. And in light of that, I think if Bono really wanted to help, he should have kept his fucking face shut and made an anonymous donation to 'poor people' in hopes that some good would come from it.

In the meantime, stick to music cause I could hardly stand your voiced before, but when you talk....good GOD! Kill me!

The Hollywood Bowl, June 7th, 2006



and





OK, so maybe not the traditional way to look at this band's title, but I did always find it intriguing that their name is 2 very distinct Disney characters...and two of my favorite. Who doesn't love Sebastian, the little crab? But more importantly, Beauty and the Beast was like this epic amazing animated movie. Then Paramount releases Anastasia, and we're supposed to give a shit.

Have you ever noticed how Paramount releases animated movies (or computerized movies this day and age) right after Disney does? They are awful. I feel like they aren't even trying. Honestly. Chances are its because theya aren't, but hell, who knows.

Anyway, a good friend of mine offered me a ticket to this show this monday and I was in shock. Never did I think I would get to see Belle and Sebastian, much less with the Shins, but the most shocking of all: with the Los Angeles Philaharmonic Orchestra behind them.

Like two in the poot one in the shoot SHOCK ME baby. The show was off the hook. Ok, ok...so we all but misses the Shins set. But we needed beer, and quite frankly, it made Belle and Sebastian all the better.

The most amazing thing to me however, wasn't the music. It was the ability of 30,000 people to come in to a show, take a seat, and just sit back and listen to a show. I was in awe. I looked around several times to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but it was in fact real.

People were sitting down, enjoying the show, as if it was something they do all the time. And in a city like Los Angeles, well...sorry for not giving it's citizens credit, but I didn't think people had the capacity to just sit back and hang out. Turns out not only do they have that ability, but they are damn good at it as well.

The show's highlights included their amazing lead singer captivating the audience, blending a sort of Bobby Darin charisma with a full orchestra. It amazed me they weren't more freaked out, seeing as this was the biggest show they've ever played (literally) and they were smaller than their 'backing band.'

Besides identifiable tunes like "Cuckoo," "Dear Catastrophe Waitress," and "The Boy With the Arab Strap," they also managed to play a lot of songs I've never heard before. Keep in mind that before this show, I had only heard 2 of thier albums: Tigermilk and Dear Catastrophe Waitress. I loved both of them, but its only now I truly appreciate what they do.

The other thing I noticed was that since these guys are Scotish, their music reflects that at times. Does anyone ever listen to music from that part of the world? Even the rockers have a distinct sound there. Sure Franz Ferdinand was heavily influenced by the post-punk era sound, but indie music from that region seems to have a distinctly european sound. I don't know quite how to place it, but it's really unique. Like going to see Calexico crossed with David Byrne. Does that help? Like seeing James crossed with the beatles white album. Like seeing the arcade fire crossed with the smiths.

All in all, the show blew me away and I cannot wait for my next chance to see them live. Just thought I would share, seeing as this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Enjoy your weekend.

Next concert: Death Cab For Cutie, August 13, the Greek Theatre, Los Angeles