brothercyst: August 2010

Thursday, August 26, 2010

SICK CITY BY TONY O'NEILL

I interviewed Tony O'Neill for The Daily Beast about his new novel, Sick City, and its Dr. Drew-like creepy therapist, as well as some bizarre sex scenesCheck it out, and check out the book, it's pleasingly gnarly.  Reading it while looking out over LA was an excellent experience.

Monday, August 23, 2010

MONDAY

On the embarrassment of writing stuff.  Went swimming today, running errands, trying to get work done.  Going to see Piranha 3D tonight, I think!  Finally getting over the mildly debilitating Las Vegas-induced sickness that crushed me last week.

Last night I watched Salt, Buffalo '66, Whatever Works, and last night's episode of Mad MenBuffalo '66 was the best of them.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

*&FG*^&GIYUH

THERE IS AN ALARM CLOCK GOING OFF IN THE APARTMENT ABOVE MINE AND IT'S DRIVING ME FUCKING CRAZY.  IT WENT OFF AT 5:30 THIS MORNING FOR TWO HOURS AND NOW IT'S GOING OFF AGAIN.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

800% SLOWER

J. BIEBZ - U SMILE 800% SLOWER by Shamantis

Someone on Facebook linked to this audio file of a Justin Bieber song going 800% slower.  It's hypnotic and kind of amazing.  I posted it on Facebook with the comment--

"This 35 minute Justin Bieber 'piece' is the absolute perfect thing to play when my neighbor turns on her idiotic dance music. Sounds like a beach in a church."

-- and then started playing it for my friend when he came over.  And as soon as we turned it off, we heard this weird echo of the music we'd just been listening to.  "Is it still on?" my friend said.  No... then we realized it was coming from next door--my neighbor was playing it too.

Monday, August 16, 2010

FLIPOVER

This morning I was about to leave the house when I heard a fierce BANG from outside.  I went out (after watching several movie trailers on YouTube) to see that a pickup truck had clipped a parked car on my street as it flipped over.  How do you hit a parked car on a residential street and flip a pickup?

Alarmingly, my car is the gray one in the background of the last picture.  It just missed getting nailed.

SACRED UNION IN NEON TOILET

Last week an old and dear friend in L.A. decided to get married quickly and asked if I wanted to be the best man, so on Friday I drove with him and his fiancee to Las Vegas.  I had never been there before.  I hope I will never be there again.  Before we got in the car I gave them their wedding present: a bottle of Jack Daniels and some cash stuffed in a pack of cigarettes.  It's about a six hour drive and we were in a 1982 BMW--"the Shark"--that looks rather like this.  It is an awesome car but somewhere past Barstow in the Mojave desert it started to cough and shudder.  We pulled over.  Tried to start the car again and it did start, then died.  A little smoke was coming out of the engine.  It seemed we would be stuck on the side of the road in the middle of the desert.  We waited for it to cool down, all very aware that we were supposed to be in Vegas by 8 for the appointment at the chapel.  We tried the car again--turning the heat on to draw heat away from the engine (his fiancee's wise advice)--and it started.  We proceeded down the highway going 30 mph for a long time.  I was drinking the Jack Daniels.  It was burning hot from being in a car with no functioning A/C in the Mojave desert under the burning sun for hours, so I mixed it with Snapple, which was slightly less hot.  We got to Las Vegas just in time and they got married.  The Elvis impersonator and I were the only people there except for the minister.  It was touching (really).  I was drunk.  I got a little choked up.  We wandered around the strip for a little while afterward and got a huge plate of nachos.  Then my friend and his wife turned in.  I went to bed and tried to go to sleep but couldn't, so I went back downstairs feeling lonely but wired and started wandering. That was a terrible mistake. The next day my lungs felt like I'd been freebasing crushed-up car batteries. My abdomen burned from my throat to my stomach.  I had spent a lot of money.  I found withdrawal receipts in my pocket.  Plus the cash that I'd had in my wallet anyway was gone, of course. In the morning, they called my room to say they'd ordered a huge breakfast and couldn't finish it, so I went to their room and ate some. My stomach felt like a bag of blood and acid. We went downstairs and outside only to realize that in the humid daytime heat, Las Vegas smells awful.  My friend's wife called it a "neon toilet."  I thought it smelled like big dirty robots having sex.  We drove around for a while, from place to place.  Increasingly we loathed and despised the city--an emblem of incompetence, ignorance, and greed, embedded in a fundamentally inhospitable landscape. Finally we embarked on the 6 hour journey back, praying the Shark would survive the trip. It was a brutally hot ride for the first few hours, but then we stopped at Alien Fresh Jerky and bought some beef jerky and a lot of things to drink, and the air started to cool down as we got further from the dessicated hellpatch that is the American Southwest and closer to southern California. And then we were back, and they were now married, and everything was all right.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Saturday, August 07, 2010

WHILE DRIVING

Me: Don't you feel like Los Angeles is more dangerous than New York?

Ned: No, how do you mean?

Me: When I'm in New York, I never feel any real sense of danger.  Any hour of the night, whatever, I've never felt my senses ever go on high or even medium alert to any threat.  When I'm out in L.A., every time I go outside the house, I do feel a vague sense of alertness.  For one thing, the cops may fuck with me.  For another, I feel like there's at least some element of crime going on that I may directly encounter.  And also, the mere fact of driving a car puts you in a kind of daily danger that you don't face in quite the same way in New York.

Ned: I don't really feel that way.

In front of us, at that exact second, a black Volkswagon Jetta makes a right turn from Gower onto Sunset and is instantly nailed by a huge rumbling green truck.  The Jetta skids to the side of the road and a small Asian girl leaps out, runs back into the street, picks up the piece of her car that was ripped off, and runs back.  The truck, driven by a bluetooth-wearing Hispanic man, continues on down Sunset without stopping and gets onto the 101 south.

Wednesday, August 04, 2010

FRAGMENTS

Oh no, Breaking Bad won't return until July 2011.  How irritating.

I haven't read a book in about two weeks.  Several are coming in the mail.  What should I be reading right now?  I have a stack, but none are calling out to me right this second.

Some Russians made a song about me!

Sunday, August 01, 2010