Refuse to Lose

Today I did something I haven't done in a long time. I clicked on the espn website, clicked on the mariners-angels live cast, put the satellite radio onto the game, put my Griffey jersey on and listened as the mariners won the final game of the season. As I've said in the past it's been hard to be a mariners fan. A decade of pain and agony has harden me into a fatalist when it comes to mariner baseball. Going to games in New York and watching us get our ass's whipped by the Yankees does that to a person. 

But this season was different. For the first time in a long time I let myself care. I am a quiet fan meaning I don't let my emotions get involved in sports because I've been hurt so damn much. I've been let down a lot. It's better not to get involved then to let yourself get hurt. 

You try to be a realist. You hope for something and expect the worst. After as crying as much as I did as a kid I play my cards close. I don't watch many games because I am used to pain. I'll check the standings but thats as far as I'll let myself go. 

Yeah I know heartbreak all to well. 

This season was different. Maybe it was the signing of Robbie Cano. Or the Seattle times series that showed how idiotic the ownership was. Maybe it was the death of the owner and the feeling that maybe the Japanese owners who had never been to a game would let us run the show. Maybe it was Griffeys speech last season where he compared the 95 mariners to this squad.  But I think the biggest impact was Pete Carroll and the Hawks winning the Super Bowl.

When the hawks won it was surreal. As I said in another post it was like the scene in A Christmas Story where Ralphie takes out all of his anger on the bully. All of those years of losing,of taking shit from everybody, of pain,of not getting the respect we deserve ended in one full cathartic moment. The Super Bowl was an exorcism on Seattle sports fans. It didn't matter where you were you felt it. If you saw another Seattle fan you stopped and talked to them. It was well indescribable the camaraderie you felt. 

I think the Mariners this season felt that. I went to the second game of the season at Angels stadium. We won and this team that played was different then the one I had watched back in New York. In New York they were awful. I understood that a lot of them were young and just figuring it all out but  they sucked. But the team I saw this year played like a bunch of pros. Of course being surrounded by a bunch of angels fans I wasn't able to properly show my enthusiasm. So as I've done every year I followed the team but at an emotional distance. 

I as always expected the midsession collapse that has become our modus operanda the last couple seasons. But it didn't happen. They stayed in the chase for the final wild card spot( baseball purist I know you hate it but wait till your team wins it then we'll talk). They kept on fighting till the very last game of the season. For the first time in years it wasn't just super Seattle sports fan Zach Nordwell following the M's it was everybody. I thought we were done a week ago, but somehow we stayed in the chase. Refuse to Lose was back. 

So Sunday I turned on the game. I knew that even if we won we could still lose. There is just certain things you cannot control. All I wanted was the one game playoff. I knew there wasn't going to be a World Series year. Sure I dream and hope but as I said I understand baseball ain't Angels in the Outfield, it's Bull Durham meets a Greek tragedy. But still as I listened to the game, and  for the first time whether we won or lost I felt proud to be a Mariners fan. 

Seattle fans are different in that even if you lose as long as you gave it everything you had we'll love you. I know that seems stupid and cliched and not cool in a society where winning is everything and anything else in the words of my boston compatriot is for "Losers". But the fact that in a season devoted to Derek Jeter a team with two stars and a bunch of kids was able to fight till the very end yeah it made me proud. We didn't get to the playoffs but to quote Casablanca " this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship".

I think of Rodeo baby I think of Rodeo

For three years I worked in a country western bar in NYC. Yeah I know it sounds ridiculous and silly but it was true. For three years and well until I left New York to move to LA whether I wanted to admit it or not it was home. Those that worked there where my family and friends. I knew it was always there if I needed a place to hang. And now, like a lot of things that where a part of my New York experience, it ‘s gone. 

I had gone into the place a couple times usually for theater meetings and such. It helped that a girl from our theater company worked there and could get us a deal on drinks. It was loud and was basically in many ways a frat bar where Jewish cowboys from Long Island and New Jersey could live out there Johnny Cash fantasies’. I didn’t hangout there too much because well I was broke 90% of the time in my early 20’s and didn’t want to spend money on booze. But after the fine dining place I worked at closed due to the owner’s stupidity I needed a job and was desperate. So one night while hanging with the theater friends,I asked my friend if this country western place had any openings. She laughed and said “You don’t want to work here trust me”. I said” I don’t care I need money I’ll even be a busboy”. She said we’ll see. A month later she called and said “I can get you on as a host, you want a job?” I said yes.

I realized in the first hour that this place was different. I was helping taking tables for the lunch rush. A customer was complaining asking why there food was taking long. It had only been maybe six minutes since they had placed there order. I ran back to the kitchen and said to the GM, a sassy Brazilian woman, that hey the customer was asking where there food was. She told me to tell them to go fuck themselves the foods coming. I thought wow that’s cool. Because in fine dining the customer no matter how idiotic, how mean, how wrong they are is always right and that well it was always the waiter’s fault. But to hear the GM back me up was liberating.

See that’s the thing people who have never worked in a bar or restraint have trouble understanding.  Things go wrong and in a rush at a small place the staff is trying to get your food out to you as fast as possible. But they also have to deal with eight other orders coming in at once. Some person decides they’re going to order off the menu or make the order complicated so it slows down the whole dang process. At the same time more customers are coming in and they want service right away. The waiter has to remember that that person ordered a coke no ice, the friend wanted an Arnold palmer, the other friend wanted a beer with three limes. Make sure there is extra guace on the burrito they might ask. Of course when you mention that we have to charge extra they get mad. That table behind you wants the check now and wants to split it three ways and so on. 

So the server deals with shit from customers.  At the same time the bartender has to deal with not only there own customers who all want food and beer but also the service bar because hey they also have a beer and burger special.  If things go wrong the bartender or server takes the blame. Management usually blames you.

But this time not only did the GM have my back but so did everyone else. We didn’t pool tips but everyone watched over each other. From the GM down to the bouncer we had each other’s back.  I think that was the thing that made it a fun place to work. We were a family.

We supported each other’s plays, art shows, concerts or whatever. When one got married everyone would try to go. When one had a kid we all tried to see the baby at the hospital. When someone got mugged we collected money to help the person out. When someone lost a loved one we were there.

 During my first thanksgiving working there the GM asked what I was doing. I was going through a breakup at the time and was probably just going to work. She  told me to come over afterwards to her place. She was cooking for everyone who was staying in town. I did and the food was amazing and I felt at home. Of course it wasn’t always perfect and we all did fight but it was like how a family fought. You still loved the person no matter how crazy the other person was acting.

Of course outside the family aspect of things there was always hilarity. Whether it was the fight with the drunk Irish guys who tried to gouge out my eye, pretty boy Ryan Gosling hanging in the office, famous Yankees smoking weed outside, the customers who tried to steal all of the cowboy memorabilia, me streaking or dancing shirtless on stage with the bands, the famed Phil Korshak spitting fire. It was a circus so much so that when my mom visited even though I wasn’t working there anymore I had to bring her there so she could meet everyone. 

Yes the place had a reputation of being kind of a fratboy place and was kind of like the cantina scene from Star Wars, but the regulars, the real ones also became our friends. Whether it was Czop telling me what I was doing wrong with women, Rodney telling me to always take a chance in life, Pablo telling us to fuck every person we meet, Tom and Pete being well Tom and Pete. Johnny the doorman and Pond Scum telling me life lessons and so many others who became not just customers but friends.

I left after three years from a combination of burn out and also because the owner and I did not get along. The GM from Brazil had left and she had protected the entire staff from his mood swings.  I am not going to go into details or do name calling, but I saw the writing on the wall and knew it was time to move on.  I would still come by and me being me,order maybe two beers and hangout for a couple of hours. During Hurricane Sandy, I hung out there as the storm raged in the street.

The night before I was to leave New York for LA I swung by one last time.   A lot had changed. Most of the staff I had known at the beginning of my time there where gone. But it didn’t matter because when you worked at this place you where in a special club forever. I said goodbye to everyone including my best friend who I had gotten a job there. I looked up at the stuffed buffalo above the bar and walked off into the night.

Now it’s all gone. It’s funny I haven’t been back to New York in almost two years. But according to everyone it’s changed immensely. Almost everyplace I worked at is gone. McCormicks the hangout for the crew from work and where I worked for almost a year is gone replaced by something else. The Madhatter another favorite place is now a gastro pub. Even the theaters I performed at are now something else. But I always thought that this place with it’s country western style would be there. I always figured I would come back and walk in on a Monday night and surprise my friends and see all of the regulars drinking and arguing about something ridiculous. 

My mom talked about how she lived in Seattle in the 70’s and what an amazing town it was to live in. She talked about the bars, bookstores, little places that gave it it’s character. She also talked about how two years after she left it was all gone. I never fully grasped it until I left New York.  It’s funny it’s like a whole part of my life that had a significant impact has just faded away. But that’s part of life. Things are supposed to change and grow and evolve. If they don’t , well they become stagnate.  But I hold onto the memories.

Like the narrator in the Road Warrior said at the beginning it’s gone but the memories remain. Memories of Super Bowl parties. Scumfest, Of blood wrestling, Margarita Fridays, climbing up to the roof, illegal Shinerbach, people falling in love, bands that where good bad and ugly. Of friendships that will last forever even though we’re all scattered in different places. Of a Kentucky Grizzly and the Pope of Murray Hill, the Swede and Butch, Handsome Phil and Sara, Eric and Bia, Walt and Leslie, Aaron and Jenny Star, Ash and Rick, Lillie and Marconi, Jill and JD, Michelle and Andrea , Chris and Anka, Scott and Tristan the Jersey Redneck, Sid and JT and Stephon, Trey and Nadine, Tracy and Emily, the guy’s in the kitchen, Amy Wood and Thea, JoJo and Charlotte, Meg and Andy and Sam, Jack Grace and Daria,  Johnny the doorman and Ritchie, Scum and Czop and so many others. I sit here now in LA,a place with it’s own certain bizarness but I remember a place, a bar with peanut shells on the floor and a stuffed buffalo . There where moments I wanted to burn it down but now I find myself sad that’s it’s gone.  Things evolve and change,but the memories and friendships remain forever.

The Epic Story of Bob the rooster as told to my nephew

When your mom and I where kids we had chickens and we had a rooster who's name was Bob. Now originally we thought Bob was a girl. Our mom didn't want a rooster because roosters are mean and they're known for attacking people. So we thought hey no roosters. 

Well we bought three baby chicks and at first they seemed normal. We called them Ethel, Vivian and Bernice.  They where cute and fun. Of course they pooped a lot which was fine. Our mom thought great fertilizer for the garden. Well as the three chicks grew up we noticed that Bernice started looking different.  Like she was bigger and scarier. Our moms mom, our grandma thought it was just a big hen. But when our Italian Grandpa Tony saw Bernice, he was like " That's a big Rooster". 

Well at first Bob as we called him was fine. But he started getting mean but not too bad. 

Finally summer came and our parents decided to enter Bob in the county Fair. Bob who had been "the man" at home was now low on the totem  pole. The other roosters would tell at Bob and probably scared the living daylights out of him. So by the time Bob came back from the County Fair he had changed. 

Bob came back and was mean and angry. 

Bob the rooster Part 2

So at first we didn't notice anything. Bob though walked different. He strutted around the yard like he was the cock of the walk. He acted like he owned the yard. But he was very different. 

Bob the rooster had changed into a full scale jerk. He started attacking the hens Ethel and Vivian. He would crow at all hours. Then he started attacking us. He'd  chase our little brother and sister out of the yard. He would flap his wings, crow and charge at us. The only person he didn't attack was our mom. 

But him and I had our own issues. Yes he was the rooster of the yard. But that yard was mine. It's where I would spend most of my days. Our yard was rather large and for me during the summer I would spend so much time out there. No rooster was going to act like a butt head in my yard. 

Bob and I found ourselves in small skirmishes. Usually he would attack a hen and I would stop him and he would try to attack me. I had a bamboo rod which was my trusted weapon and I would swat him away.   He would crow and I'd tell him to shut up and he would come charging. We eye'd each other. We knew an epic battle was coming. Only one could be king of the yard. 

For weeks this battle went on. It's as if fate was waiting for the right moment. It would come on a sunny afternoon in mid summer. 

I was out in the yard playing. Bob was being a jerk. Him and I looked at each other. Was today the day. Suddenly Bob came charging at me. I grabbed my trusted bamboo rod and swung it at Bob before he could attack. I hit Bob across the neck with a violent swap. It stunned him but he kept on coming. I hit him a dozen times in 30 seconds. These swats would of hurt a human being. I hit him over and over again until I was so tired I couldn't hit anymore. Finally out of exhaustion I stopped. 

Bob, relaxed as if noting had happened looked over at me and attacked. I ran with all of my might. I dropped my bamboo rod and ran towards the woods behind our house.  Bob kept on coming. I ran down a trail that I knew would lead to an open field. I was fast but Bob was faster. He flew up in the air and went for my head. He pecked and scratched at my head. I fell to the ground. I was in a life or death struggle. He had me on the ground and was going to destroy me right then and there. I was dead. I finally pushed Bob off and got up and ran with my last ounce of breath towards the open field. 

I ran out into the field and finally stopped in the middle if the field and collapsed. I turned back. Bob was standing there to the enterance of the field. We looked at each other. Bob crowed the loudest he had ever crowed in his life. I yelled back at Bob  , " I hate you Bob! I hate you!"

Bartender thoughts

You wanted to leave but never did. Everyone said you'd get out but instead you got a job at the mill and worked and took care of your mom. But things got insane. A violent strike broke out and you a guy who was apolitical got involved. You saw the injustice that was happening and took a stand against the Gordon Gekko type owner. Violence escalated. They killed your friends and even tried to kill you. But you, a guy who barely graduated high school took down the owner in a FBI sting operation. Because of your testimony you helped chang things for for the better. But you had to go into hiding. Now your lying low in the city of angels waiting for them to come for you. I'll be bartending from 9-2am and I'll tell you something: you did the right thing. 

Rain storm

It's been raining for almost three intense days. I drank my coffee and watched a river manifest in the middle of our street from my front porch. It looked so peaceful as it washed away the dirt, grime and dried blood from the street. All of the sins of LA that had been built up during this draught was being washed away by Mother Nature. It would only be 4 inches but it was badly needed. But alas not all was right the cinder block wall that separated our property from our neighbors collapsed. The only ones hurt were those bastard moles who had been tunneling underneath and caused the collapse. The wind picked up and I watched as the rain went sideways. Drivers were freaking out as if there was a zombie war. I was smart enough to stay inside. Again it wasn't that much but in LA a city built on a fantasy in a desert it was badly needed

Throwback Thursday

Throwback Thursday! I should of fired my barber, but that was before I found the great Ricardo. Yeah I still don't get what I painted

Bar posts

You where a blue collar guy who wanted to be Jack London meets Thomas Wolfe. But things ended up being a lot different. You went out to find America on the road with a con man, a drug loving old guy and a nerdy poet from Jersey. You wandered for years between New York, San Francisco and Mexico City just trying to find meaning.  After years of struggle you found success. But now it's become too much to handle . Your being told your the voice of a generation and it scares you. You've pushed your friends and loved ones away. You've started to drink like your Heroes but now it's out of control. Are you wasting your talent? I'll be bartending from 9-2am Iam not going to serve you but I'll listen.

Throwback Thursday !

Throwback Thursday! I wasn't trying to be ironic with the stache . This was right before my first purge.

The walk

I awoke around 130-2 o'clock in the afternoon feeling groggy but spritley. Last night had been my first night back at work in almost two days. I had felt unbelievably exhausted from that long week of working graveyard shifts. No one knows the insanity of that kind of work until you actually do it. It can drive you a little insane if your not careful. My grandfather talked about how he begged his boss to put him on the day shift after working nights for a year. All I know is that it says something when you find four am to be a decent bed time. 

I threw on a shirt and stumbled out to the kitchen. My roommate was making a breakfast of eggs and potatoes. He offered some and I quickly obliged. I then stumbled out to the front porch. The house sits in a hill over looking a valley of houses. My neighbor was telling me how the nieghborhood was originally italian until Dodger stadium drove all of the Mexicans and Asians into the area in the early 60's. 

It was a cool afternoon and the skies were blue. I had heard in New York that people were dealing with snow and extreme cold. Was I jelouse that I was not part of it? Yes and no. I didn't need that darkness just yet. I sat on the front porch and talked to my other roommate about this pain I was feeling in my back. I had embarrassingly tweaked it while doing push-ups the night before. You try to take care of yourself and you end up making it worse. Great such irony that is life. I asked what I should do sense the pain was a sharp pain when ever I made sudden movements. Their biggest suggestion was to stretch it out and take it easy. Great take my time with it I thought. I work with a guy who's in his 50s and gout has done a number on his body. Man I hope that's not me. After a little bit I knew I had to go out. 

Echo park is right next to downtown Los Angeles. Boarded on the south east and north by freeways, it's been for the past 40 years an home for newly arrived immigrants from Central America and Southeast Asia. Gangs roam the streets but that's just a fact of life for those living in the less aflaunt areas of Los Angeles. Families who are in search of the American dream work, pray and live in this nieghborhoods all with the hopes that their children get a piece of that fantasy known as the Anerican dream.But in the past couple years there has been an influx of young people looking for cheap rents and a lower cost of living in the celebrity capital of the  world.

If your like me, you've spent most of your adult life living in the roughest nieghborhoods in America. Of course there  was a part of me that always romatizised that as a kid. Maybe it was all of the old Warner Brothers movies, or maybe it was West Side Story. Of course if you actually move to that insanity, it's less romantic then you would think. But you grow to love these nieghborhoods and cherish them. At the same time you want to live in the hip trendy area with the bars and girls and hip places to eat. But places like that are always missing something. I hate to sound tool esque but it's missing heart. Yes it can be trendy, but where is its soul? Now I find myself in a new nieborhood called Echo Park

When you live in LA it's so easy to stay in all day. Especially if you live in a nice house which I now did. But in New York you have to go out. It's a thing that drives you. Like if you stay in for the day you feel like your wasting your life. Yes LA is the town where you can go surfing in the morning and ski in the afternoon( if I had a dollar  for how many times I've heard that), but it's also a car city that is unbelievably spread out. Most neighborhoods are less neighborhoods and more just strip malls that are not within walking distance. But echo park is different. 

I threw on some clothes brushed my teeth and left the house. 

I walked down my street and headed down to sunset. Sunset of course that street made famouse by movies and songs. This stretch of sunset is not the one you see in movies except for police corruption films where the cops are gang members with a badge  and a stuffy politically minded cop is trying to take him down. No this is the sunset strip of working families and people trying to make some kind of life  in a city that's known to destroy people.  I got to sunset . I looked over to the fancy gas station on my left. If I went that way I would end up in Chinatown and downtown. I wanted to see the city but I didn't want to go that far. I went right and headed towards the main drag of echo park. 

Walking down the main drag of echo park I could already see families and young people about. Yes it was afternoon but everything felt so buoyant. I passed the Asian supermarket. A guy I worked with knew one of the cashiers in there, a sweet girl from Taiwan named Ming. He asked me if I was seeing someone. He wanted to set her up with me. I politely declined, I was seeing someone and wasn't in the mood to date several women at once. Contrary to popular belief it just leaves you exhausted most of the time. He said it was too bad. The guy I worked with was about 50 and had lived in Echo Park for almost 20 years. He like many people had come out to LA with a dream of stardom. It hadn't happened and he hadn't reconciled it. So now he was a bitter racist man who loved to spread his unhappiness with the world. He wasn't as bad as they said he was, but he wasn't as great as he thought he was. He was another example of what can happen in LA if you're not careful. 

I continued past the Asian grocery and passed the stairs up the hill that I would sprint up occasionally. I passed by the vintage stores which I found myself frequenting these days.  Back in New York whenever you went to one of those places it usually cost you an arm and a leg. Of course I was no fashionista.  Far from it. I was just looking for a jacket or something cheap I could buy since I wasn't willing to spend  300 dollars on jeans at Diesal. Maybe it was the catholic in me but sometimes it seemed bad and a little morally wrong that clothes would cost that much. That could of been why I had stopped wanting to buy clothes. Of course people choose clothes to help define who they are as people. It does say something about a person what they wear. Out here in Los Angeles whenever you see people overly dressed up you know they're trying to be bigger then they actually are. Try to fake it till you make it, the motto of the entertainment industry of Los Angeles. Now I was just trying to find comfortable clothing. 

I looked across the street and saw that Berigans was still closed. Berigans I had discovered one night with my roommate after a show of his. Imagine four  guys ages 26-33 crammed into your dad's rental that happened to be a mustang. It was a drunken hilarious site as motley crew of guys rolled up on this place that was the hangout of the local Hispanic youth. The margaritas where cheap and the chips and salsa was free. It was a poor mans paradise. But now it was closed for various reasons. My friend  and I at least had the gold room. 

Yes it sounded like a strip joint. No denying that. But the gold room was one if these bars that fit my style. Dark with neon lights, at night it was packed beyond capacity with young Hispanic youth looking for a good time. But during the day it was filled with old men and mariachi rap on the jukebox. The drinks where cheap and it had the atmosphere that made me feel at home. I had discovered that I was one who loved the dive bar. Maybe it was because no one was trying to impress anyone in those places. It always felt like a throwback to the old Irish bars I hung out in back in New York like Mccormicks. Yes it was a good place to get stabbed but put me more at ease then going to some place like the Roosevelt or Chatue Marmot where people are deep in the bullshit that is LA. 

By now I had made my way to Echo Park and Sunset. It was the center of the nieborhood. I looked around and saw everything I loved about the nieborhood . Immigrant families and young people mixing together. People weren't trying to be cooler then each other. No they where just simply living. 

I walked past sunset and echo park and passed the Mexican joints that ranged from classy to ghetto. You don't realize how much you've been gyipped until you have good mexican food. In New York the food is brilliant and amazing on all levels. But there is something unique about going to region of the world and exsperiencing the local food first hand. Of course you ask yourself what is he talking about? It's one thing to have a "New York style" slice of pizza in Seattle, but to go to New York and actually eat a slice of pizza from a hole in the wall pizza joint is a religious exsperience . Same with Kansas City style barbaque or northwest salmon. Mexican food in Los Angeles is beyond belief. Espeacially when it comes from a taco truck or street vendor. It's usually homemade and sold by old ladies who've seen more then you'll see in a year. 

I kept on walking west on sunset past the thrift shops. I passed the library which was closed because of Presidents' Day. As a kid you embrace everyone of those holidays due to the fact there usually was no school. But as an adult working the jobs I did, you realized that there where no days off. It's a sad fact to realize. Yes if you work certain corporate jobs or work for the federal government most 75% of jobs don't take holidays. You work and try to get the big two off. But usually that doesn't happen. I knew I had to work and I wasn't looking forward to it. Few jobs I've worked have I looked forward to going to work. I guess it goes back to find what you love to do and do it philosophy. Of course the truth be told you're lucky if that happens. 

I walked towards sunset and alverado. Traffic wasn't too bad yet. Usually between four and seven it would be hell on earth for anyone driving. Of course a person could go on for days about the craptastic awfulness that is traffic in Los Angeles. It's such a part of the American sychie. It could stand as an allegory for making it in LA. Everything feels like it's going nowhere and if it is it's going very slowly. I crossed Alverado and went into the donut shop on the corner. 

Donut shops are usually the same in LA. It's as if 1982 never ended and they're 90% of the time run by Asians. Donut shops are such an intergal part of the Los Angeles city scape as pizza is to New York. There is even a ban on Duncan donuts in California. I ordered a cup of coffee and an old fashioned donut. Cantonese pop was playing in the back ground. The place was empty except for myself and the lady working behind the counter. I sat down and enjoyed my food. I looked out at sunset. I could see the downtown skyscrapers in the distance. Old salvadorian men dressed in flannel and wearing cowboy hats walked with Cains while women barely five feet tall pushed strollers . That's what I loved about this place. No one was trying to impress anyone. No bullshit that makes you want to puke . Just life was happening. 

I got up and crossed sunset and headed east. I passed the diner my friends and I frequented and crossed the over pass over Glendale. I saw that the vintage clothing store that specialized in sports clothing stop has that Shawn Alexander jersey for sale. The Super Bowl win was still fresh in my mind. After years of suffering my team had won. I thought back to my favorite Seahawks I had as a kid. It defiantly was Ricky Waters, Shawn Springs and Cortez Kennedy. Of course this was when they were losers. But now that seemed like a distant memory. The team that had won was a group of cast offs and losers. These guys weren't supposed to win and they did. Maybe that's why I identified with them. My whole life going back to when I was a kid I had been considered a cast off. So many times adults had underestimated what I had been capable of doing. But each and every time I had done the unexpected. Wheather it was leave town and go to New York to act. Keep with it after others had left it. Blow people away with a performance in a show or film. I was the underdog who beat the odds. I guess that was my greatest strength.  I was determined no matter what to get what I wanted and prove that yes I was worthy and that good. 

I kept walking and briefly stopped in a bookstore before heading towards the park. Families where out having impromptu weekday barbaques. Men sold Italian ices and fresh  papayas. There was a sense of  joy that ran through the park. Laughter, running, singing. The joy of life was alive and well in Echo Park. It was infectious. I couldn't help but smile. I sat down and looked out towards the downtown LA skyline and thought this is my home. 

Oh those quizzes

I have to say doing these buzzfeed quizzes this past month has been truly eye opening. I've learned that if I was a classic rock band it would be the Rolling Stones though it wasn't specific during which period. ( I am just glad it wasn't The Eagles or Pink Floyd ).  If I was a classic old school wrestler it would be Brett Hart which makes sense since we both have lovely hair and are from up north. I should be living in Barcelona which is funny because I had an ancestor who was a Barcelona "Lady of the evening". I should also be living in Massachusetts or Wyoming depends which question I changed. I should of gone to Duke which I find ironic for so so many reasons. If I was a muppet it turned out I was not Animal which is truly shocking, but Iam Crazy Harry the pyromaniac ( please mom don't say a word). If I was an XMAN I would be storm, which again makes sense again because we both have great hair. If I was an empire it would be the Spanish Empire.  If I was a member of the avengers I would be Marie Hill. If I was a dog I would be a Great Dane which is how a women described me once, but only in puppy form. I shouldn't be in the arts but I should be a pro athlete or a coach. Of course the big one that wasn't surprising is that if I was a president, I would be that fun loving secret muslim,communist and Fascist Barack Hussain Obama , which totally makes sense. I mean we're both not exactly white, both have father issues, both were raised by tough ladies and we both have the same haircut. 

I guess since our overlord Big Mark Z has helped answer all of the big questions I don't have to waste money on that Camus book. Maybe I'll stop posting to FB and just post to my blog? Screw it I'll do what every guy does and spend my time watching porn and movie trailers. 

Throwback Thursday

Throwback Thursday. Look at that hair? I was so young. That battle of Toulon was a wild time 

SEAHAWKS!!!!

It still hasn't hit me. I don't know if it ever will. So many feelings have gone over me the last couple hours. I can't describe it. For once Seattle is a winner. After years of heartbreak, pain, of almost getting to the promise land, we have done it. We. Are. Super Bowl Champs. I laugh thinking about it. It's almost surreal. I watch ESPN and they're talking about us. All the heartbreak we've endured,has melted away. I just have trouble fathoming it. 

If your a Seattle fan, you get no respect. Yes it sucks to be a cubs fan, but at least people respect you. Same with Boston during all of those years they were awful. But if your a Seattle fan you get dissed by everyone. You get mocked and called sea chickens by Colin Cowherd, bill Plashke says your villains to Manning's White Knight ( Plashke just be honest and call him the great white hope), you go into a bar and people ask" hey isn't that Canada?". People think your just a bunch of coffee drinking Frazier Crane Portlandia types and they say "oh it rains and you have sucide's, and serial killers and trees right?". Maybe that's true. 

Maybe yes we have a high rate of weirdness. Maybe we like good coffee. Maybe we give a shit were we get our food but you know what else, we are a tough place full of a tough people. We're tough not just because of the terrain and weather. We're not just tough because we've always been willing to fight the system whether it be the 1919 general strike or the WTO riots. No we're tough because even in the face of humiliation and heartbreak, we continue to push forward to carry on. 

In the 30 years that I've been alive, I've dealt with the heartbreak of Seattle sports. Being 11 and watching Joey Cora cry after we lost to the Indians. Losing to Jordan in the 96 finals. Watching as our teams would implode. Never being able to beat the Yankees. Losing again and again. Watching  Griffey, one of  the greatest players of the past 50 years never reaching a World Series. Losing the Sonics to Oklahoma City! Seeing the Seahawks be so awful in the 90s. Thinking as a kid," man why wasn't I born someplace else, losing sucks". Growing cynical to the point that you believed the awful things people would say about your teams. You start thinking we're never going to win. You one day see that the Jabba the hut looking owner wants to move the Seahawks to LA and you think " great what else is new?"

But things change. At first it seems strange. You get a new owner, a nerd who seems to give a damn. He's willing to spend the money to get the right talent. He goes out and blows your mind right away because he hires Mike Holmgren, the best coach on the market. That's not supposed to happen. You expected us to get the assistant to the Niners, but Mike Holmgren ? This guy won a freaking Super Bowl, he's coming to Seattle? He changes the mindset of the team, he changes the mindset of the fans. Maybe we aren't losers? Maybe we have a chance! He takes you to the Super Bowl and we get screwed. Pittsburg fans now admit it, the Seahawks got screwed. Maybe we wouldn't of won, but it would if been a lot closer. In the mist of that heartbreak you keep on charging forward thinking one day we'll win. Maybe one day we'll win. 

But you don't win and things get worse. 

But as the team gets old and beat up something happens to the fans. We slowly go insane. We're told we don't care. I guess if you don't throw batteries at the opposing team or boo Santa your not a real fan. We hear that and go " Oh yeah! Fuck you clown, this is how a fan is!" The 12th man and our insanity starts to take over. We start to make Raiders fans look like children. We know we will win just give it time. 

Holmgren leaves and we suck hard. You hear they're going to hire Pete Carroll and you go "Pretty boy?" You think is he just going to be another Nick Sabin and head back to college? Is he hiding out? Of course USC fans think he's a villain though every program is dirty and you show me an honest program and I'll show you a dead hooker. Your hesitant, but then you give the guy a chance because that's what you were taught. The guys not a screamer like a Ditka or a brooding killer like a Belichek. He's about having fun and being positive in the face of insanity. You think " what hippie commune did this guy come from?" But  you realize, he's an ex player who never got his shot at the pros. All he ever wanted was to just play one play. He got close to his dream and never got it. You thing wait a second maybe this guys all right. So you drink the Kool aid .

At first things are crap. Your friends mock you. They say " Pete Carroll's too nice to be an NFL coach". But something happens. Out of pure luck you get into the playoffs. Your not supposed to win, but because of Marshawn Lynch's run ,that will be up there with Griffey sliding into home, you win. Maybe Pete's right. Of course your Bay Area relatives give you crap, especially your great uncle. But you stay the course you don't abandon your team. This hippie coach has the presence of mind to go with a rookie  QB over the sure fire thing and you start winning. All of those who dissed you are now praising you guys. They say" maybe this is your year".  

At the beginning of the season you feel something in your gut. It's saying " I think this is the year". Of course you keep it in check. But as the season keeps on going, this gut instinct grows more and more. You think it's going to happen. But you keep your cool. You've had your fare share of heartbreak. But you just know in your heart it's your time. You get to the Super Bowl. Of course the pundits by now have called you thugs and villains. A racial dimension takes hold. They don't think your the real deal. But you keep your cool and when the game starts it's as if all the pain and heartbreak, every diss, every put down Seattle has ever received is taken out on the other team.  It's almost as if the Seahawks turned into Ralphie  from " A Christmas Story" when he beats up the bully. When the dust clears, the Seahawks are Super Bowl Champions.

This win wasn't just a win for The Seahawks. This was for years of pain and agony by Seattle sports fans. This was for  the 06 Super Bowl. This was for the crappiness of the Huskies, thanks to the NCAA.This was for never being able to beat the Yankees. This was for the Sonics moving to Oklahoma City. This was for Ken Griffey Jr. never getting a ring. All of this is what the 12th man represented. 

Now we go forward. No longer as everyone's punching bag but as victors. I won't think about the future just yet ,but for now I will enjoy this moment. I will walk with a bit more swagger. I will walk not just as a Seahawks fan, but as a proud son of Washingtonian. 

LA at dawn

It's a dark windswept morning in the city of angels. I crave this world. It was the world of my childhood. Of dark, windy nights that shock the house. Of rain socked mornings on my way to school. Now I am in a city of lost souls. I've never seen a city full of so many lost people. Los Angeles hardens you more then New York does. Maybe because deep down it's the Wild West. A place of fantasy. Los Angeles is a city that sells a version of the American dream that never existed. It's a city of hard truths. All you can hope is that in this city of darkness and fantasy, you can hold into your soul. 

Iam 30 ....fuck

Thank you to all for the birthday wishes on my 30th birthday( I know that's fucked to contemplate for Theresa Chedoen and Dahti Blanchard). Am I over the hill? Most likely but to quote Sam Jackson my plans are simply this: I will continue to kickass, I will stick it too the man, I will please all the ladies via the rocket in my pocket, I will let all the suckers know who's the man, I will kick  more ass,cradle a babe in the burnt out ruins  of a church, let a dove go from a ghetto rooftop, fight Ivan Drago in Moscow on Christmas Day, find the Ark of the covenant with Danielle Da Gia before the Nazis do,save an orphanage by teaming up with my brother who just got out of jail to put on a blues show, start an underground male aggression group with Taylor Crowell and Jessica Rionero in a big house( wait didn't we just do that?),still kick ass, storm Omaha Beach with Andrew Bellware anD Maduka Steady, kiss a true love in a rainstorm after professing my love, fight a brother in law over a dowry while a bunch of Irishmen cheer me on, team up with Montserrat Mendez to rally the Arabs in revolt against the Turks, go into business with John Dillon, Chris Pope and  John Czop as paranormal investigators and fall for one of my clients who'll get turned into a ghost by a babaloyonian god, kickass, win a true love back through an Indian game show, get into a violent chariot race with the man who double crossed me and sent me to the gallows, put a true love on a floating door after our boat sinks and tell her never to let go, tell kids at a Canadian summer camp it just doesn't matter, help my grandpa tony fight HMong gangs in detroit, go on a road trip of feminine self discovery with Genevieve Jenner and Kitty Gibson Angela DeManti then drive off the cliff at the end while being Persaud by the Feds, shoot  Solozzo and McClusky, be a mentor to a rookie pitcher with a million dollar arm but a ten cent brain while seducing a local hottie, help Jesse Martinez save the princess and blow up the Death Star, celebrate Independence Day by destroying an alien invasion fleet with John Cain, and then I think I'll take a computer class. 

But thank you all for being a part of these past 30 fucked up years that have been to quote my high school principle after she saw my performance in the apple tree "different".

It's important to surround yourself with people in life who aren't assholes and boost you up on every level. And all of you have done that in some way throughout my life and from the bottom of my heart I thank you....except you hitler and Shia LaBuff  your just a dick.