A short tour through the charred and studded heart of Asheville.

Asheville has a real way of making you feel inadequate. I just wanted to peruse the shops on Lexington, but I left with such a complex. Like there is no way that I could learn the correct way to wear pants tight enough to make eunuchs cry. How exactly does one spend 45 minutes on their hair and manage to make it look like they woke up behind a garbage dumpster....a garbage dumpster full of chic! They seem to have the coolest of social lives. House parties in abandoned houses. Warehouse parties...in abandoned warehouses. They don't really have to worry about taking up a stance on anything, the anti-trend will become known to them eventually and as soon as it's saturated they just have to be one of the first ones to go back to the trend. I imagine there's a large population of meat-eating republican gutter punks in Asheville right about now. Well, with my self image shattered I wandered up to the southern end of Lexington, where the shops are still kinda cute but run by middle aged people who've lived their fads and are content to actually have a cause and then host a potluck for it. Surprise, I actually bought something there. Without the pressure of not living up to the staff's standards, or maybe it was just that I didn't feel like paying 30 dollars for a plastic bag or 60 dollars for a necklace made out of tin cans and the souls of supposed greedheads, I was able to make a peaceful purchase.

I made my way over to Chai Pani near the Grove Arcade. Admittedly, I've never been to India, and as far as I'm concerned Indian food is curry, masala, paneer, etc. The things you can get on the buffet and that make up every standard menu I've seen in about 12 countries. Chai Pani has a menu full of things I've never heard of, apparently real Indian street food. In an effort to be less hoighty-toighty, Chai Pani has made itself basically a hipster lunch stop with zero atmosphere.

Additionally, every other item says it contains cilantro. Even when I ordered an item that did not mention cilantro, it came with cilantro chutney and a liberal covering of cilantro. This is not ok. This is gross negligence. This is not an ingredient you can just shove aside. It permeates every aspect of your meal. Now, to be fair, the guy behind the bar where I had chosen to sit, took it back and had them remake it without my even having to ask. He was well chatty. Nice sort of chap. But it didn't take long to realize he was still one of those Asheville holier-than-thous, just not in uniform. For one thing, I mention to him that Hendersonville is about to get a Middle Eastern cafe. (DID YOU HEAR THAT?!?! I'm so excited it's not even funny.) I mention that I've been looking for a place to get falafel, and he says he's interested in their hummus. He goes on to explain the various ways that hummus variants have failed him before. He finishes with, "I'm looking for a deft hand." I had to ask him to repeat that. Jesus man, it's just ground chickpeas. A deft hand? Your deft hand dumped a way more than a dash of salt in my "Indian lemonade" and it tastes like, well, you can imagine I'm sure. And shortly before I leave, I hear him mutter, not so quietly, "Amateur hour."

Give me a freaking break.

Ripping Guilt

I find the Saw series disgusting. I find people who enjoy the saw series disgusting.

I've had a thing for Jack the Ripper for as long as I can remember. I find myself watching documentaries on other serial killers. I don't go out of my way mind you, but I'll definitely watch it if I catch it. What is the explanation for this seemingly outright hypocrisy?

I'm gonna go with Catholic guilt.

Logan's Run

This is a stupid reason to log on but I'm compelled.

Logan's Run. No J, it is not about a long distance runner....for the 4th time.

Someone suggested I see this movie. Probably when I was watching Omega Man, which except for Charlton Heston's need to perpetually overact, is pretty good (though no competition for Soylent Green).

This is another film quite obviously inspired by We, a Russian novel by Evgeny Zamyatin. Odd that. Even Orwell and Huxley have admitted being inspired by this book. A book not available to Russians until some 20 years later.

This movie has quite possibly the worst special effects in history. Prime food for MST3K. The guns "shoot" magnesium, so a nice green explosion occurs every time they awkwardly discharge their guns. They are all terrible shots. And you can see the devices on the ground where the laser guns supposedly "hit". I can't go into all the absolutely terrible special effects.

The costumes though, well the girls anyway, are hot in a Space Babe sort of way. In fact there a lot of great costume ideas if anybody would ever actually get your reference. The men on the other hand, are pretty much dressed as the ambiguously gay duo.

However, maybe halfway to three-quarters through the movie, they reach this old man character who is a downright pleasure to watch. His simple yet predictably wise lines are beautifully entertaining.

So what am I saying. This movie is rough to get through if you think you're getting a quality classic. But it may be worth checking out for a good laugh and a genuine quality second half.

Climate changing zombies

My mother just sent me a text asking for my address. Sent. Then clarified that she meant physical. Sent. I thought I was getting a present. Then she wants to clarify my social security number. Fearing she is using me as a tax shelter, I ask what she's doing. She says she's making me the beneficiary of my siblings' college funds. I reply, shouldn't that be guardian? She says, it's in case she and five siblings all die.

I reply, "I imagine if that occurred, it would be the apocalypse so I'll need that money to buy zombie fighting things" She replies, yes, and something about the Climate Change meetings in Copenhagen. Perhaps she has become concerned that climate change isn't actually a bunch of malarkey and maybe she should pay attention? But it still leaves me to wonder, does she think I have super human powers and will survive when they all die? Was my father secretly Superman or Richard Branson?

America, fuck yeah

I was just reminded of something. While traveling recently, on multiple occasions, I was faced with people who were bothered by my referring to myself as American, or saying I was from America. It was usually a Canadian. My knee-jerk reaction was to shout, "Shut your flapping head". But I usually responded with, "With the stigma that now comes with the word American, do you really want to take those privileges?" Their argument is always that we are all part of North America. Well I'm not stopping you from calling yourself a North American. When I say I'm from America, no one gets confused. No one says, "Could you clarify? Are you from Mexico?" No one asks if I'm in fact Canadian when I say I'm American, or from America. Look, canucks. You are from North America and Canada. Mexicans (who have yet to complain to me about calling myself American) are from Mexico and North America. I am from North America, and the United States of America. That is TWO Americas. I get to say American. Shove off.

Apparently there is a German, French, and also a Brazilian version of The Office. All, I believe, came before the American version.

Is Ricky Gervais a genius? Have we already reached the apex of idiocracy?

Call the Shrink, I love the weirdos.

I feel like I should just say this. I love Russel Brand. Add that to my list of weirdos perhaps, but I love him. I acknowledge that he is strange, smarmy, and well, English. But I will marry him anyway. And sadly, this didn't start with this years VMAs. This years VMAs only exacerbated the problem.

The front man for All American Rejects is out of control good looking.

And Kanye West is short. Hot jawline. Perhaps was coked up this evening.

I feel like I'm disappointing someone with this year's VMA rundown, but I usually have a glass of scotch, so I'm not really in the mood.

I have an appointment with a career/life counselor tomorrow named Gino Maccaroni. That is all.

Recent Photography Homework

Boyd's son. Obviously. Roan.

Continued illumination with my mother.

and then she said:

Have you ever been to a care center for the veterans? (I have) Do you know what the government is teaching our kids? (I do) Have you heard the pledges for Barack Obama???>??? (I have)

read just one letter according to a mom in St. Augustine. attached. If you are truly "open" you will hear the truth.

To which I replied:

Once again, it's a matter of holding the government accountable. Easy peasy. That's our job as Americans and we are failing miserably. Power can corrupt anyone and if we continue to sit on our laurels and not hold the government accountable, this will be worse than the failings of forced communism in Russia. Who has taken up the cause of the VA hospitals? Who is making sure the government makes it up to standards? And what is the government teaching our kids? I've heard no one but you concerned, so I'll assume it wouldn't bother me. I don't even know what pledges to Obama means. Girl scout pledges? And these one letter this, one letter that tactics are cheap. I don't care who's side you are on, one person's voice is not an argument for an entire nation.

This morning, I sent her a link to Obama's terror driven speech. She immediately texts me back that this is the changed speech and the original was outright communism. And that she heard them herself. I can't find these originals. If anyone can, please send them. I want to do my part to hold my government accountable. The funny thing is, I responded:

That's fine. It's pretty sad we have to sign a consent form to listen to the president. Sad indeed.


She responds:

It's pretty sad that we can't pray either.

Well, that's a first for me. I had no idea Obama came into our homes and stopped us praying. Came into our minds at school and stopped us praying. Is he burning the churches too?


I responded:

No one said you couldn't. I'm sorry you need state sanctioned time to pray. I don't, so I'll say one now.

For the win.