My seventh-grade teacher was murdered. It was a random mugging, less than a mile from my house the summer before eighth grade. I don’t remember how I found out. This was before the internet let tragedy spread like a brush fire. What I remember most is her funeral. I had a hand-me-down suit from my brother because mine no longer fit me. It was itchy and tight. I sat in the third or fourth pew with my friend, Quentin.
Category Archives: life
It was either title it that or reboot it and toot it. But I’m digressing before I even begin. The state of television in the past few years has been bifurcated from the old network (cable and regular) state into a war between that and the new binge-tastic mode proffered by Netflix, Hulu, Amazon and the like. Weirdly, both sides have employed a similar strategy for some of their programs – bring back the old shit.
I’ve always prided myself on being a good observer. It’s the lot of any writer or storyteller. You pay more attention to the world around than the average person. It’s also connected to the low-grade paranoia I’ve been afflicted with my whole life. It’s probably an ego thing, but my mistrust of random people stems from the fact I think that they are all plotting against me. As I look around at the people in my immediate vicinity I’m putting together the witness report for when I have to explain to the police about the guy that tried to kill me. All of this to say that I’m not usually surprised by people in my vicinity so when I was walking home last night and I heard a woman screaming, I was fairly stunned.
It was just announced that Hollywood institution IOwest is closing. It was the west coast arm of the Chicago improv club that has been around for nearly twenty-five years. I was never an actual member of the IO community but it was a huge part of my time in Los Angeles and it feels weird that in just over ten days it will be no more.
I’ve never had a cavity. That’s good, I suppose. My dentist once referred to my teeth as “perfect” (her word) despite my compulsive ice-chewing habit. That said, I don’t have a long history of good luck with my chompers. I’ve had five root canals, mostly due to random injury. I have three fake teeth, due to, well, let me get into that.
In an effort to use this space to document my life as well as Facebook, I’m posting this here even though everyone saw it already over there. This is my One-Second video, where I took 1 second of video over the entire year (really for only 312 days, but who’s counting). It’s a perfect little time capsule for my year, covering the end of my job, my fitness regime, the concerts, travels, and everything and (hopefully) most of the friends involved.
I never knew how much I could cry. I mean, if I’m being honest, I’m still surprised I can cry at all. But over the past few weeks I might’ve solved California’s drought problems if I just harvested my tears. After eight-and-a-half short years, I had to say goodbye to my sidekick, my wingman, my favorite, my puppers, my little chicken, my Radley.
I’ve gotten a bit distracted by reality so I’m still playing catch-up on my travels. I’ve been back from Thailand for nearly two weeks and am just now getting around to posting the rest of my pictures. While Bangkok was a bit more chill, TravelJonny was out in full force in Chiang Mai. There were hikes, waterfalls, and food, glorious, food.
I haven’t slept much the past week. My parents were visiting and being the combination of my mom being up at sunrise and me being a light sleeper resulted in less than my barely acceptable usual six hours of slumber a night. I’m tired, and I’ve been traveling and haven’t adjusted well. But I’m also in Thailand, so I can’t really complain. Getting here was ridiculous, with nearly 24 hours of travel, a delay, two airports, running through my layover, a metro station and a walk through a bustling metropolis at midnight while getting hit with waves of nostalgia along with the unmistakable aroma of Bangkok-like someone ate garbage and then farted it into the air. It’s a smell you get used to, like the slight urine-y waft of New York City.
As I sat at a nearby table, nursing an old fashioned, I cracked open the notebook I was carrying and the pen I went searching twenty minutes for (not easy to buy a pen in downtown LA). I was going to jot down a few notes, maybe write some deeper thoughts, but I was overpowered by the conversation of the three people at a table across the room. They spoke loudly, unaware and or unconcerned with being overheard. Worse, the woman talked in that high-pitched baby voice, and the overly affected way of making every sentence, sound like a question? Where her voice goes up at the end? Sounding like she’s consistently unsure of anything she’s saying? But the men with her were the obnoxious ones. I tried to figure out their dynamic. What was their relationship to each other? Was one of them the third wheel? Co-workers? Or were there power dynamics at play. There did not seem to be any boundaries.