This Bud's For You

Up a lot later today. I can tell it's going to be one of those cloudy hangover days. Went to the GZA CD release party last night. Sometimes it still tickles me when I find myself in the middle of a scene that's so typically "L.A.". Rap videos projected on the walls, free drinks, massive bean bag chairs at the foot of a giant flat screen TV with Madden '09 set to play. The entire event staff is scantily-clad sexy women, from the bartenders to the DJ to the girls snapping photos documenting the night. I wondered what their resumes looked like and if they interviewed for their positions.

Well it looks here as if you have absolutely zero experience in the field of photography.

Not true. Have you not seen my myspace page? I did those myself.

That doesn't really count.

Oh, well did I mention that I'm hot?

Well shit! Why didn't you say something? Get this girl a camera and low-cut tube top. Welcome aboard!

Or maybe there are just so many good looking people trying to make it in LA that these ones are actually wicked talented....maybe. I took full advantage of the open bar. I might as well have had my own recycling bin for my empties. As more people arrived the more intensely "L.A." the place became. The sight of one more fedora-tight pants-non prescription glasses combo and I was going to puke up an Urban Outfitters vest and a well placed political joke. Or maybe I was just drinking too fast. I took a seat on one of those IKEA looking minimalist sofas. I'm sure it wasn't IKEA but I could give a shit about what the difference is. A friend told me today that part of his "wooden" IKEA bed-frame broke and there was cotton inside. "Those crafty Swedes!" he said. What a bonus. When you're done with your IKEA shit you get to break it open and see what's inside. What's next? Ah! No way! Marbles!!!

I talk about these hipster types like I have some pent up resentment towards them. What is it that I don't like? When I try to explain I often use the words, "they TRY too hard." Well, do I not start every day by looking for the clothes that I think will make me look the best? Often times, if I'm really fond of the way yesterday's outfit looked, I'll wear it two days in a row so long as I make sure to run into a different lineup of people than the previous day. I check myself out in the mirror, tweak my body, furrow my brow and clench my jaw, all in a way that's reserved only for this moment. We all try to do the best with what we've got. Maybe I'm just jealous that you guys are so tightly stylized and pretty. How do you get that stubble looking so forgotten about yet so neatly groomed? And I don't mean to generalize here but how is it that you always have some hand-me-down camera from the 70's with you? You're an artist too! You prefer film to digital?! You know bands that I've never heard of?! You keep a moleskine in your back pocket JUST IN CASE!? Fuck! Just take all the women now! We don't stand a chance. I fantasized that one day IKEA will decide to manufacture affordable hipster clothing. In the same way we walk into a fellow college graduates newly furnished apartment, nothing would please me more than to be next to a hipster in line at a coffee shop, point at his tweed vest and say, "IKEA? (nod of approval) Sweet". I wonder what spills out if you break open a hipster. Maybe Jack Kerouac and some Ray Bans. "Those crafty Swedes." OK! OK! I'm done!

Either way, at the moment there at the event I was proud to be in their company. They completed the scene. It's one thing to see scenes like this on television but to actually be IN IT -- to be part of the scenery is funny. This stuff doesn't really happen. I was scanning the room to make eye contact with someone as if to say, "Isn't this funny how cool this is! Can you believe it!? We are actually like in this right now!" How very uncool it would have been to acknowledge our present state of coolness. But really, how can you not? It's such planned and organized sexiness. And maybe that's what it is about Los Angeles and the hipster crowd that doesn't sit right with me. When I see that you put a lot of planning into your coolness it kinda diminishes the impact. I try to be cool all the time but at least I have the decency to fake like it happens naturally.

Suddenly, I spotted what appeared to be a stubbled child.

I spotted a dwarf. They hired dwarf entertainment?!

I spotted a jolly little man who appears to be in search of a pot of gold or maybe a beer.

I spotted Bud Bundy making his way through a sea of people to get a beer at the bar. Yes!

Chill out Ryan. Stay cool. Another free beer maybe. Yeah, good idea....wait wait wait! Girl is taking your picture. Act like you don't notice. Now's the time for that in-the-mirror face!...(CLICK! FLASH)...Naaailed it!

I approach the bar and I'm standing right next to Bud Bundy. I've got to say something. But what? Think! Think! Think! I'm losing the window of opportunity. I turn around and squat so he can hear me. "Hey, did you hear the one about John McCain? Man is he old!"

Pitchin' Aint Easy

Up early today. Either this means I'll get something done or I'll just have more time to test my dedication to procrastination. Decided to walk to the Black Dog Coffee for a breakfast burrito. I took my book and went out the door. Was headed North on Burnside and as I approached Wilshire I noticed the black scrawny naked legs of a homeless person ahead. He, or quite possibly she, hovered as if leaning over a warm campfire -- but uniquely with their pants resting at the ankles. The bulging whites of his eyes surveyed the passing cars. In one of his free hands he held a crumpled page of newspaper -- I later hoped that it was the funnies section. It then hit me that I was not all unfamiliar with the stance that this person had assumed. This gentleman was about to drop a homeless burrito right in the middle of the sidewalk on Wilshire Blvd. Not unlike the glazed-over face of a dog scanning the yard contemplating what he'll do after he finishes this minor inconvenience, this man calmly scanned the scene. For what, I wondered. Is anyone noticing? Check! - you are on Wilshire Blvd during morning rush hour. At least eight slick haired guys just yakked up their morning venti latte on their Mercedes' dash. Or maybe he was thinking what most do in the comforts of their own home. What a great way to start my day - a solid crap along with the morning paper. I decided to continue my walk on the opposite side of the street, not so much because I was disgusted but more so that I didn't want to be rude and invade his space - a man deserves some privacy. I got to the coffee shop, ordered my burrito, finished my book, then headed back out. This time I decided to walk the homeless side of the street. I passed the now sleeping homeless person and his collection of homeless paraphernalia. Some of the homeless in Los Angeles have got it down so well that they seem more like urban campers, but this was not the case here. He wasn't nestled in a doorway or alcove but rather sprawled out flat on the sidewalk not more than 5 feet from the now newspaper covered excrement. I admired the makeshift decency but it still wasn't a pretty sight - who is going to pick that up? I walk by here every day and I sometimes accidentally touch the bottoms of my shoes! But I couldn't stick around to feel sorry, the coffee had made it's run through my system and I had to get home to take a crap. By the time I got back to the apartment it was still fairly early. Not even 9-am yet and I've already seen a guy shit on a sidewalk! This bodes well!

Lately my chronic procrastinating has been pushing me to the verge of insanity. It's like a battle between my present self and the self that I dream about. Every second that I sit on my ass doing nothing I see that dream-self looking at me with sorry disgust. I don't know how much more of your bullshit I can stick around for. So what separates me from any guy shitting on the sidewalk? I'm no better and he certainly has more courage. On a good day I'll have the balls to keep my windows down with my music up while next to somebody at a stoplight - because you know, whatever, fuck it. But this guy--now this guy's got spunk. We're the same in that we both do nothing all day and we both share a strong affinity for nap-time, only I have a safety net of parents with money (though their patience has run thin) which allows me to shelter myself in a penthouse apartment filled with cool gadgets like a computer, a coffee maker, an iPhone, and a toilet. There are a million sad story scenarios as to why this guy ended up where he did. Maybe he just wasn't as lucky, or picked up a drug habit, or suffers from some illness that he couldn't support, or maybe had a penthouse apartment in his 20's and just kept on procrastinating to insanity. Maybe we're all just a few good tweaks from unapologetically pitchin one in public.

They say that we attract all of our experiences, so what good is this one? Well here I am, actually doing some damn writing, and all before 10-am. Little did this guy know, or give a damn, he just set my day straight. And not to get all grandiose, but what if this was the start?