Give to me your money.

I've been spending money like, well, like I have some. Which--heh heh-- I do not.

Its those damn drinks. LA = expensive booze = nick need to make better use of his flasks. Then there's the movies, the dinners, the driving around. Shit adds up. And I'm supposed to go to Magic Mountain on Monday, which will kick both ass and my poor little wallet.

Plus, all I want to do lately is go down to Amoeba Records and buy a half-a-billion CD's. ... And then maybe go have some more drinks. Must resist impluses. Must use common sense.

Damnit.

Bad Idea.

Good morning, your president is an idiot.

LA Times, July 19: President Bush bluntly and swiftly defied a bipartisan majority in Congress and a strong current in public opinion and exercised his veto power for the first time today to block an expansion of federal funding for embryonic stem cell research. ... With the stroke of a pen, Bush left an enormous stamp on American science and medicine and the ethical standards that apply to them. The war in Iraq may be spinning out of his control, but with his veto Bush shaped the flow of billions of dollars of federal research support that is a cornerstone of U.S. science.

Uh. What the hell? Doctor, what do you think?

"With his veto the president has now reaffirmed a policy that never made any sense, garnered no scientific support to speak of, was abandoned by both houses of Congress and the leaders of his own party and, most importantly, got no traction with those most in need of the benefits of the research — patients and their families." - Arthur Caplan, Ph.D.

*Sigh.*

Lord of the Land.

My landlord's name is Paul which is coincidently my father's name as well. That's not really important, I just don't meet many other people with that name, so I think its interesting. He approved my application a year ago in what must have been a really stressful time in both of our lives because he never really gave me his full attention or anything resembling a clear answer. Plus he thought I was going to be a bad tenant. And he's Russian. I think.

Now its been almost a year and he loves me cause I pay rent early and never complain about anything which could or could not be because, well, he freaks my shit out. He once sat with me while I signed some papers (after living here 4 months... go figure) in nothing but his tighty whities while his 2 year old daughter ran around naked. That was fairly bizarre. Not to say he's a bad man, I just try to keep clear.

Unfortunately, because our time together has been so limited, I know very little about the small complex I live in and have been simply picking things up as I went. Apparently I can set the front gate buzzer to call my cell phone, instead of my house phone which doesn't exsist. And I think I might have a key somewhere to a magical room which, I've heard in stories, hides a cross-trainer and a pool table. All this, however, is irrelevant. For on this day I have succeeded in finally uncovering the most wondrous and possibly most valuable hidden treasure of community information.

The gas BBQ grill does, in fact, belong to the entire complex, not just the large Mexican family that I see using it every day.

Hooray! The guy that I've been trying to befriend for the last 11 months (cause he looks about as happy to be living here as I do) finally broke down tonight and was down right neighborly. He told me the "rules" of the grill and whatnot as I tried to suppress my excitement over all the wondrous grilled entrees I was to soon be feasting on. Definitely owe that dude. Big time. Too bad it took so long to figure out.


Dear Paul the landlord,

So many grilless months lost. - Damn you, sir.

Sincerely,

Apt 36.

Nitty Gritty.

Ok. Here is my opinion-- since you're reading my blog and you therefore must desire to know. I cannot stand when artists put out double CDs. Unless its a compilation disc then there is no reason not to just cut your current stash of music to the best 70 or so minutes and fit it on one excellent CD. Release B-sides. Wait a year and release another album. Anything but 2 discs.

With that said, I'm getting really really into the new Red Hot Chili Peppers CD, Stadium Arcadium, after taking matters into my own hands and burning a 15 track disc of my favorites instead of the obnoxious 28 on the original. And its fantastic. I really can't stop listening to it.

I read a review in AMG which said something interesting: "...Stadium Arcadium could be seen as the point when albums were seen as a collection of digital playlists. Yes, it's pressed up as a two-disc set ... but this is an album that's designed for you to mix and match, create your own playlist, rip and burn on your own. It's designed for you to sequence its 28 songs in some kind of cohesive manner..."

Perhaps that's where we're at now. Let the bands put out a mess of songs and let the audience decide which ones are worthy via the ipods and playlists. Why not? Of course the brilliance of a near-perfect album will always impress the shit out of me, and nothing compares to listening to a great album from start to finish with the case in one hand and the paper insert in the other. But for ambient driving or houseparty music such as this, the virtual jukebox might just cast CDs aside like... idunno... Cassette tapes? We'll see.

wait. what?

I had a dream last night that I was standing in front of the first girl I fell in love with. She was here and there, new and old, all in the same moment. Dream-like. You know. But she looked at me and the present-day-her separated from the several-years-ago-her and wandered away to who knows where. The old-her kissed me lightly and told me she loved me and apologized for what I assumed to be the way things were now. I tried to touch her but I couldn't. Then I woke up.

What the fuck is that about?

Well, its been a bizarre couple weeks. Living in this city-- and I do blame pretty much everything that goes wrong in my life on Los Angeles, which isn't really fair, but fuck it-- living in LA has slowly been wearing on my brain. Maybe its me just getting older and more cynical or maybe its the pollution. Either way I decided to take a vacation, head home for a bit, get my head together, but I was forced to used that time to bid farewell to a dear friend of mine instead. Having never really experience anything of this nature, I found it very nice to be home and around so many fantastic people during this rough time. I'm forever grateful for the amazing moments I've had this last week. But to continue, I returned to LA with even more stirred up emotions and a whole new set of "what the hell and I doing?" questions. I don't get along with the city I live in. That's sort of a certainty now. Does it really matter? Can't I be successful regardless of this? Shouldn't I try to see this through? I don't know. I have no clue. Life is a little bit different lately, and something is going to change soon.

For now its hotter than shit, and I'm pretty set to wander off to sleepy-land. Night.

Z.

Thanks, Sam. For everything.