the one with a screen test

September 30, 2013

Way back in August (that really seems far away) my birthday rolled around. It turns out the Miami Marlins were playing the pirates in Pittsburgh on my birthday. The rest of the shillelaghs were on board to come with. We decided to make it a day and then stay the night at a cheap motel and leave in the morning.

It was a beautiful Tuesday. We started the same as all our roadies: with a trip to Luna Bakery Café. It’s a tradition and delicious. On our way we still hadn’t decided where we were going to hit up once there. It was a safe bet it’d be art related. There’s the Warhol museum, the toonseum (cartoon museum–visit it’s awesome!) I’ve never been to the Carnegie Museum of art so it seemed the logical choice but that’s not how we roll. We did a simple equation:

August 6th is jimi’s birthday x August 6th is Warhol’s birthday = going to the Warhol.

We had been to the Warhol before but it had been a while. There were a bunch of different things and many more ways to interact. One way was doing your own screen test.

From the Warhol museum:

Warhol’s Screen Tests, which number approximately 500, are revealing portraits of hundreds of different individuals, shot between 1964 and 1966. The subjects are both regulars of the Factory scene and new visitors—both famous and anonymous. They were all asked to pose to be captured by Warhol’s stationary 16mm Bolex movie camera on silent, black and white, 100-foot rolls of film. Each screen test was exactly the same length, lasting only as long as the roll of film, about 2 ¾ minutes. The resulting films were projected in slow motion so that each lasted approximately four minutes. For exhibition, Warhol strung the Screen Tests together in a sequence, inducing an almost hypnotic reverie that could “help the audiences get more acquainted with themselves,” as he once said.

You know the shillelaghs weren’t going to pass that up. Watch below for some silent, black and white awkwardness.

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the one where I don’t talk about oral over dinner

July 24, 2013

It’s hard out there for a pimp, I mean poet. Okay, not really (besides the whole no money part of it.) I’m currently working on finishing up a book of poetry. A self published book of poetry. It’s probably a lot easier (the self publishing part that is) than I feel like it is or am making it.

So-Dumb

I’m working hard on that. I’m waiting on the wifebot to draw me something for the cover. Go shame her on her blog or Twitter about it. The staff art show is coming up, and I’m probably going to do a reading for the opening reception. I wasn’t sure about it, but more than a few coworkers have asked me if I was and expressed seemingly genuine happiness with my deciding to do it.

They like me. They really like me!

So I’m trying to scrounge up some poems to be read and hope to have the book ready so I can be all “buy this bitches!” Well, minus the bitches part or at the very least the exclamation point. Also I’m trying to get my shit together and work with local galleries to put together some readings and etc.

So there is some weird stuff happening in my head.

(Yeah, yeah, what else is new?)

Most of the stories I see in my head, I see as a play—on stage—or they bounce together as a poem. Lately though I’ve seen more of these flashes manifesting themselves on canvas or similar. I’ve been getting the urge to do some mixed media collage type pieces, and I know they will suck and is probably lame to try but what the heck. I’ve told myself that I’m going to stop telling myself no and just do things. I got some cool stuff cooking for here too—like movie review haikus—but that’s coming soon.

The Ohio Blogging Association has many a Cleveland meet ups, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to attend them. I was happy to see that I could attend July’s. This time it was at Tremont Farmers’ Market. Despite some storms and hail, the day cleared up in time for us to walk and peruse the market.

There were all sorts of bread, veggies and awesome little shops. Then we came across POPSMITH (Farm to pop): offering flavors of seasonally changing ice-pops showcasing our region’s fruits and herbs. Kat and I gladly forked over the 3 bucks and shared a red raspberry/basil one.

redraspberry

See the enjoyment??

And as that took place we came upon: Gray House Pies!!! Why does that warrant exclamation points? Two words: Drunken Cherry Pie. Okay that was three; keep your math off my blog! A pie made with tart and sweet cherries and blended with bourbon.

BOURBON.

It lead to this text between the wifebot and Rizza:

And then this between the Rizza and me:

me: my mouth will make love to the pie does that count?
rizza: just don’t American Pie it?

I assured her that I didn’t get to my pudgy status wasting pie like that.

So yeah. We headed over to Lincoln Park Pub for Taco Tuesday. It was tasty and they have a delicious hot sauce called the morning after.

Get it because it is yum.

I’m not going to complain about good food and hanging with cool/lovely ladies. You can check out their blogs at Poise in Parma, Jam in cle, Why Cle, Dog in the Cle, Clue into Cleveland, The girl I mean to be

I was happy to meet some new people and see those I’ve met before. It’s fun to hang with local bloggers and talk about writing, Cleveland, blogs, social media and anything really. It does feel funny when the others can talk about serious topics or such interesting niches or how they promote Cleveland and then it can turn to me and I’m like “I blog about blow jobs gone wrong and how I trick people.”

Grades:

Tremont Farmers’ Market: 2 blowjobs gone wrong up
Taco Tuesday at Lincoln Park Pub: 2 blowjobs gone wrong up

I’m just kidding; that’s not how I grade things. It was a fun time with fun peeps. I hope it happens more and I’m def making a Taco Tuesday trip back there.

 
This time I’ll get the “Kill me now” hot sauce.

The one with too many stories

September 12, 2011

The one thing always working (heavily.) with the public has given me is a huge pile of stories to pick from. For the most part the only people willing to pay me have been grocery stores. The fact that I worked with/for so MANY jackasses characters helped add on to the story pile.

Part of the reason I started the blog was there were funny stories that kept happening and needed their own outlet. I appear to attract weird people and weird situations. I’d like to take credit for the many funny posts that came before being laid off, but I mostly just chronicled what happened. I let the absurd public burst forth in all their bizarre glory. In some instances I helped the funny along with my reactions and interpretations. When I first got laid off I was afraid my blog would become boring.

(It already was?)
(Well that was simply mean.)
(It’s mostly these parenthesis gags that are?)
(Fair enough.)

Then the year of being unemployed happened. It was tough for many reasons but it did eventually take its toll on here. It was mostly the fact that I ended up staying home a lot. First the work stories were taken away but then I sort of cut off all contact with the public. Soon my friends would start to say “I can’t wait till you get a job so we get more work stories.” All around many missed the work stories. Who knew it would take over a year for me to find another job?

Then the good news of job hit. Not only did I get a job but it isn’t exactly the best one out there and you got it all about dealing with the public. I was excited to have a job and a little bit about having work stories to write about. It seemed the universe missed my work related stories too and decided that I needed many of them right away.

The first week was one story after another. The one with my junk, the geese and the name trouble were just the tip of the iceberg. Almost weekly I’ve been given something—some are just sitting and waiting to be typed up. A couple weeks ago I texted the rizza with:

“Dude can I go one work day without horrible things happening?”

And the wife with:

“One normal day is all I ask for. No more stories!’

Please Universe I don’t need one every day. Please.

(I’ll give up the parenthesis gag.)
(Maybe.)
(Probably not.)


the one with period cups and wolverine

July 15, 2011

Ok first off both hipstercrite and Jewel at I’m Holding The Talking Stick traumatized me for life with their posts about alternatives to tampons.

Cups??

In your hoo-ha?

Psyche damaged.

And then I for some reason googled “period cups.”

(Don’t.)

And came across this:

Photobucket

Today I was going to my ode to Sriracha. Then all the stuff up there happened. I’m thinking I’ll do the ode to rooster sauce over the weekend. In the mean time I’ve been going through the changes.

(No not from a young girl into a woman with my first period.)
(Man I’ve got some sick readers.)
(Shame on you.)

Where was I? Ah yes the changes. I haven’t shaved all week (I know big deal happens all the time.) and the hair is piling up. The faux mo cut I have is also in need of trimming. If you take those things and add them to what else has started happening you’ll know to fear me.

Case 1: The other night the wifebot and I are in bed.

(bow chikka bow bow.)
(knock it off pervos.)

We’re snuggling on up and she sighs. I being the sweet guy I am go to rub her arm in a comforting manner. What happens instead is my nail snags at her and she thinks I’ve purposely scratched her. She gets mad, and then I slink off to write.

Case 2: The side of my stomach itched. I nonchalantly reach over and scratch it.

Yoooooooooooooooooooooooooow.

(Thought not screamed.)

It felt as if I took a chunk of skin. I make a joke to the Rizza that I may have and forget about it. Minutes later I have this painful little tingle on my side, sure enough there is a nice big scratch there.

Apparently my fingernails need to be trimmed.

Or the transformation is nearly complete I am WOLVERINE!

Photobucket

Sweet I’m bad ass! Or more likely I’m just a bearded Edward Scissorhands.

Photobucket

One finally note: cups in your vajayjay? Really?
Oh and hooray for horribly done cut and paste pictures.


The one with the Cleveland Creep

June 13, 2011

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Finally I’m getting around to posting this. Way back on June 4th I had the privilege of being part of a Books for Bloggers event. It was held at Visible Voice Books in Tremont and allowed an intimate conversation between Cleveland bloggers and Cleveland mystery writer, Les Roberts.

When I received the email invitation I was excited. It allowed for me to bring a guest and I chose my lovely Wifebot, who of course could have attended as a local blogger herself.

A little bit of honesty time. When I first move to Cleveland way back in 2002 someone suggested I read one of the books in Les Robert’s Cleveland series. It went something like this:

Person: Hey yo you’re into writing and new to Cleveland. There is like this author who writes mysteries set in Cleveland.*

(*Nowhere near how it happened.)

I looked up the name and picked the first book in the series—Pepper Pike. I read it pretty fast and really liked it. I decided right than that I was going to get to know Milan Jacovich real well, but you know things come up. I hadn’t read another in the series since. I sort of forgot all about it until I received the email.

The event was to promote his new book, The Cleveland Creep and was sponsored by Roberts’ publisher Gray & Company.

Les met with us in Visible Voice Books’ quaint upstairs meeting room. I was happy to see the room because I’ve been considering it for a reading of one my plays.

(More on that later bitches!)

It was intimate and the author easily fell into a back and forth conversation. It wasn’t long before he was weaving story after story for us, and it felt like we were all old friends. He (obviously) can really tell a story. It was interesting to hear about how Cleveland grew on him and you could tell the love he had for the city.

The meet and greet was very lighthearted and filled with humor. He answered questions and signed the books.

(Free bitches!)

I was happy to meet @ADHicken who I’d enjoyed on the twitter.

(Wait that didn’t come out right.)
(T.W.S.S)
(Not her but you know the royal her–nevermind!)

And her blog Clue Into Cleveland is always a fun read. It was cool to meet her hubby @ScottHicken and @timzaun (who you’ll see more from down below.)

(That’s what she said!)
(Sorry.)

Roberts’ has lived in both Chicago and L.A. but fell in love with Cleveland and couldn’t leave. He’s lived here 21 years and tells how the city has influenced him and his writing. When asked about what needs to be done for the future growth of the city his first reaction was said with humor and care:

“Oh Boy”

After a chuckle he dove into what he felt needed to be done. I snagged this from TimZaun.com because it was a little more thorough than my notes. His site is a very good read. He snapped the picture above too (Hooray for lazy jimi!)

• We need to stop the brain drain of Cleveland’s upcoming talent-young residents or transplants, choosing to be educated here; and then leaving town for larger, more progressive cities.
• Government needs to make it easier for businesses to locate here with tax incentives, etc.
• Officials who embody the “What’s in it for me?” mentality need to be replaced with individuals committed to helping Cleveland thrive.
• We need more writers to promote Cleveland’s assets.

The Cleveland Creep is Roberts’ 25th book and more importantly 15th featuring Cleveland private eye Milan Jacovich. I will have a longer review up soon but I will say that it is an excellent read. Once you talk to him it is hard to hear his voice as you read. It was near me and I opened it up just to read the first few pages and was instantly hooked. The story is a fast and smooth read. The book is filled with some wonderful prose. Jacovich’s humor and love for Cleveland mirrors that of Roberts. There is a tinge of sadness to the pages as the Cleveland private eye deals with age and loss. This only adds to the gritty realism and edge the series has.

Les Roberts will return in 2012 with Whiskey Island. The story will revolve around a Cleveland city councilman—who is corrupt—sound familiar?


The one tinged with violence

May 25, 2011

I’ve been known (from time to time) to actually get my shit together long enough to submit to places. The act of putting my stuff out there at one point was one of my strengths. Sometimes now it feels like a real chore. I’ve been on a real submission kick lately and well I’ve received some weirder rejection letters as of late.

So join me in a shot (my ritual of taking a shot and then moving on) and enjoy this one:

Dear James

Many thanks for the opportunity to consider your submission. Regretfully we must pass on the poems at this time. At ******** we try our best to return submissions with as much feedback as possible. Our editors were impressed with the raw beauty of your images. The energy throughout your poetry is evident; unfortunately we felt they were not right for us at this time. The poems which you submitted while beautiful at times were simply too tinged with violence. Nevertheless, again we thank you for considering us and send best wishes for you and your writing.

Yours sincerely,

******* **********

Now I won’t post the poems here (because too many these days count that as “publishing” them and won’t except em) but if you’d like to read them you can ask me.

Just be warned they’re crazy violent.

(and if you don’t like em I’ll KILL you.)
(Just playing.)
(Maybe.)

Thank you for reading and I send my best wishes for you and your other reading. For your benefit I leave you with this awesome and hilarious video about dealing with rejection:


The one where I battle emotions

April 18, 2011

You thought you were so clever.
(Yeah you.)

Oh so clever, but I caught you. I caught you red handed there intwerbz.
(No don’t even try to pretend. You just sound sad with your excuses!)

I caught you. All of youse trying to bring me down, trying to harsh my buzz if you will. Yeah you bastards. Be ashamed. Things were going okay—fun almost and then you all conspire to darken my skies. The last week or so have been rather trying.

Confession: Trying in mostly a vague not related to me way.

You see first it was the 17 year anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s death. It is a date that always leads me to pause and reflect. Kurt his writing and creativity pushed me, my ideas and writing. He was an influence to say the least. It was one that at first was personal. It was one that was more of an inside. Yes people knew

I dug Nirvana and etc, but for the most part I let the influence be deep inside my actions and writing.
Until of course what happened. When it happened I (read my always there for me Sister Lisa) dyed my hair all blonde. All of it—and there was a lot of it. The nails were painted more often. It was a time where I embraced my weirdness even more.

AnyNailPolish it hits home. So it rolls around and is a rather sad moment. I’m letting this thought roll around in my head and then bam out of nowhere one of my favorite wrestlers (especially character wise) Edge has to retire. It really sort of came from left field. I mean sure he had some serious injuries but he was on top of his chosen profession—his passion when it happened. He had followed his dreams and poured his creativity into it.

Then it was cut short. He came out to announce that he was forced to retire. It was sad. The wifebot even sat and listened to him talk. He almost broke down a few times and of course the wifey tried to get me to. I’m happy he found out when he did and can get out safely and healthy. The fact that he had to exit from something he was passionate about early is sad. When the creative are taken away too soon it hits me and when people lose their vehicle it does too.

(I know I didn’t really describe that the best way.)

So add to those things that happened later in that week: Joe Tait did the Cavs play by play for the last time. He is one of (if not the) greatest radio voices ever. He’d been doing it for seemingly forever. He’s getting up there and had some health problems so I should be happy for him.

And I am. It’s still a sad (or emotional) moment. Listening to him talk about it and his memories was fun and hard at the same time. This is something I’ll probably write about tomorrow or this week. When I first moved to Cleveland I was essentially alone here. I mean I wasn’t. The wifebot’s mom was amazing and nice—I don’t mean it like that. She was great and there for me, but the wifey was off in Athens going to OU. What would I do? Well I’d turn on the Cavs game and get lost in the words of Joe.

More on that later.

Then you come to a big event: The nuptials of my best friend the Rizza. It was a beautiful moment where two people I love came together as one. This of course led to many a moment of reflecting on my wedding day and my lovely wife and etc. I tried to write a poem for my bestie but simply could not catch perfectly what I wanted.

#PoetFail
(Yes I did use a hash tag there.)

I went back and read the poem I wrote as my vows. It was a grand ole time. The wedding (Rizza’s) was fun and she looked beautiful. It meant a lot to be able to share in such a big moment in their lives.

So yeah all of youse on the twitter and interwebz and the world I caught on to you. No I did not break down at any point. So suck on that! But I did show emotion. Go figure.

Best part of the wedding day: The several drive by kisses on my cheek by the bride as she rushed her or there. That and that as we left I hugged her she says to me:

“You’re not looking me in the eyes because you cannnnnn’t. If you did you’d get all emotional.”

Maybe. And yes she did use all those n’s.

Damn this post really sucked. Oh well I blame you all for this too.

#PostFail

Well yeah watch this.


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