Monday, August 27, 2007

Blog Happy

So I'm feeling a little blog happy all the sudden, but I gained access to all of Steve's hundreds of photos so I felt I needed to share.

This handsome trio includes me, Scott and Steve. They are twins...really...twins. I knew Scott before I knew Steve. Scott and I have more in common than Steve and I. It's odd, okay. But what we all do have in common is that one Thursday night not too long ago we ate at Buster's Beach House Grill and Longboard Bar in Long Beach. Their sign is mounted on a VW minibus. Need I say more.

Just Joan

I like to think of myself as a subversive supporter of the arts. For example, I once bought a meal for a bunch of theatre grad students at Famous Dave's. I've lent out furniture and helped haul things to and from the stage for a production of House of Yes. I'm even letting an actor friend from New York live with me for a few months even though he always parks behind me in the garage and I have to move the cars around each morning. Sure, other people endow theatres and scholarship programs. Other people sit on committees to build concert halls. Me - I feed starving actors occasionally. Really, it's all in hopes that one day they become famous and I can say I knew them before they were stars.

None of the grad student pals of my college roommate have broken out into fame yet, but Erinn is showing up in soap operas, Tim has been in some commercials, actually a lot of them have been in commercials. And then there is Joan whose a finalist to cohost a show. Joan was my favorite grad student - I know, I know - I shouldn't have favorites, but there's a lot of things I shouldn't do.

Here's her video submission (it's funny, really it is):

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Superhero Quiz

You are a wanderer with
amazing strength.

Your results:
You are Hulk

Green Lantern
Iron Man
The Flash
Wonder Woman

Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...

The Trouble With Blogging...and Nursing Homes

My problems with blogging are that I've never really felt that I had anything to say, that which I might want to share wouldn't be that interesting and well, really, I don't necessarily like to share all that much anyway. Bloggers, as a generalized group, aren't much in the mode of self editing their remarks. Obviously, this is what makes them fun and makes me not so good at it. I approach blogging as more of a medium for embarrassing people with funny pictures.

With that, I'll tell a story of absolutely no relevance to myself or my feeling, emotions, habits or vices. It is, in fact, a story about my grandmother.

About a month ago, my grandmother, 85, had a stroke. This left her with great swaths of empty memories but otherwise well. This was followed by another stroke which neither helped her memory nor her ability swallow without making a thoughtful effort to do so. While in itself tragic, at her age it seemed to be the start of a long road downhill. Grandma surprised us all though.

When last I saw grandma she went on a rather blunt tirade about how she would not be going into a nursing home...ever...under any circumstances. I'm guessing that being put into a nursing home only months later made her cranky, in fact, I know it did. Grandma's roommate at the nursing home would also argue that it made her crazy. Grandma's roommate would actually prefer not to have a roommate at all. So it was that on a Friday night things got interesting when grandma's roommate chose to go to bed and grandma chose to stay up and watch television.

Apparently, the roommate had reached her last nerve...not only was grandma crazy, not only had she stubbornly not moved out, but now she was watching television in a volume that was way too loud. Grandma's roommate crossed the room and hit grandma in the head.

Blows were exchanged. I imagine there was swearing, nightgowns rumpled and skinny, age spot marked arms arcing in jabs and roundhouses punches. Nurses came running and broke up the mayhem.

I also like to imagine the phone call from the nursing home. "Sir, there's been a problem at the nursing home...with your mother. I'm going to need you to come down to my office so we can discuss her behavior. If this continues, we will have to send her home with you."

At least grandma is not going down without a fight. She should probably mix it up more often.

Monday, August 6, 2007

My mom and aunt came for a visit last week. We covered most of the west side of Los Angeles County in 4 days leaving no out of the way, narrow, homeless infested alleyway unexplored.

There was dim sum in Chinatown, bagels at Union Station, cheesecake in Marina Del Rey, assorted goodies in Manhattan Beach and Santa Monica. We saw the ports, Venice Beach, a couple piers, the pig murals of Farmer John (how could we not) and the Getty Museum (including the infamous Evidence of Movement exhibit which includes a man licking broken glass, two people dancing with a dead chicken in their teeth, a naked woman in an unseemly pose with goat entrails and our favorite, the talking light bulb).

Here are a few of the highlights. Below you'll see my mother and aunt in the ocean. Moments before this they had never been in the ocean (nor seen it, I should imagine).

Moments later, mom lost her shoe.

Moments after that, she saw her shoe and scurried out to rescue it.

Mere moments after that the ocean reaped its revenge and doused her in its salty waves.

Next there is Steve with his favorite star, Bette. Steve says I have no good pictures of him. That's not true. I have plenty of good pictures of him. I prefer naturalist photography catching people doing ordinary things...eating, wandering aimlessly, yawning and darting out of frame. Steve doesn't care for naturalist's a shame because I have a very extensive collection of photos with him eating, yawning, wandering aimlessly and completely unaware I was taking his picture at all.

For the sake of completion here are a couple pictures that include me. Here I am with mom on Olvera Street.
And here's the three of us on Santa Monica pier. I don't know, but I think we're a handsome group, I really do.