last night at the movies

i'm sitting for four hours in the austin airport (there's a guy that's trying to overpower my ipod with his guitar here at an airport eatery. has "the live music capital of the world" taken it too far?) becasue i missed my flight to washington. so, i have a few moments to reflect on the movie i saw last night at the alamo draft house.

i've been to the drive-in, i've been to the $2 second-run theater, and i have been to the plush "home of the sing-along-sound of music" prince edward cinema in leicester square, london. but i have never had a movie experience quite like the alamo draft house. besides the fact that i can order pitchers or buckets of beer as well as typical bar food fare (the server even comes to me while i'm in my theatre seat!), the evening's entertainment itself is eerily relevant. at least, it is when you go see a show called thank you for smoking. before the movie began, i sat watching vintage ads, reels and trailers, laughing at the quirky taglines and absurd ad campaigns. then i realized that i was watching a well-crafted mix of old anti-smoking public service reels juxtaposed against feel-good ads for the likes of kool and virginia slims. not to mention a trailer for cheech and chong's nice dreams.

that's typically the style of the theater. whether the film is new, popular, camp, or kitsch, the programming is well thought out and relevent, often with a dash of quirky wit.

incidentally, thank you for smoking is a well-played satire that targets every side of modern political culture, from the lead character's profession as a "spin doctor" to federal lawmakers and beaurocrats who aim to please public opinion. based on a novel by christopher buckley, the screenplay by writer jason reitman managed to bring together a thoughtful, funny, well-written story. and i liked it.

podcast//12

on qt, small people, and marshmallows
playlist

The Concretes//You Can't Hurry Love
Rogue Wave//Eyes
The Little Ones//Cha Cha Cha
TV On The Radio//I Was A Lover
Animal Collective//Who Could Win A Rabbit
Marshmallow Coast//Sail Around The World
The Shins//We Will Become Sihouettes
Kings Of Leon//California Waiting
The Veils//The Leavers Dance

on the river

with my new austin friends this weekend, and in honor of britt's birthday, i took to the river for a day full of...sitting in tubes. all day. just sitting. and drinking. and floating. and sitting. in tubes.

fortunately, that is all it amounted to for me. usually, i would be the one getting a citation of some sort for-who knows what-lying naked in my tube while singing at the top of my lungs and disturbing the neighbors. this time, however, i wasn't the one.

after the tubes rounded the last bend at the end of the day, a few cops on the bank beckoned to us, and we willingly made our way to them. the only problem with this situation: we had been drinking all day, and somehow, no one bothered to check that everyone was of a responsible drinking age (which, apparently, is 21). travis was given an m.i.p. that afternoon. poor guy. but, at least he didn't have to spend a week in jail.

an otherwise happy day, it was a good texas experience. here is the official story, as told by off the record.

does anyone understand spanish?

my friend alina and i were in hawaii exactly a year ago, together with other friends from around the world. tomorrow, i will see here again--this time in her hometown of buenos aires. i've heard great and inexpensive things about argentina, and two weeks should suffice for my first visit to the southern continent.

and i'm happy i will see alina. in one happy, margarita-filled aspen night last spring, she and i talked about our plans to pursue entertainment careers. after only minutes of talking, i had convinced her to join me and six others on a road trip through vegas, the california coast, and maui. with no hesitation, she was in.

although her interview with mtv never worked out, alina was able to get work on a b-rated morning show in argentina, and is now doing a little work with the latin branch of much music. if nothing else, she got to interview coldplay recently, and she says she has plans for more, coming soon. unfortunately, i can't understand this video's spanish announcer guy.

at any rate, alina is a beautiful girl, and one that i can't wait to be a wingman with when we both (finally) make our ways to los angeles.

i saw quentin tarantino today

this man
was at this resaturant today
if anyone cares

austin, texas

between surfing on the lake, tubing on the river, and enjoying hors d'oeuvres at an austin film festival benefit, i have continued my tradition of traveling well. i have happily made new friends in this city, as i manage to do elswhere. and, of course, i have stayed out of trouble, too.

podcast//11

click here for podcast//11on sinking venice & new orleans's tubs 'n tubs

podcast//10

click here for podcast 10on singer/songwriters, woodpeckers, & coke

brenham, texas

my latest vespa travel has brought me to brenham, texas, home of my former 4th grade teacher. although i have neither see nor heard from her in years, she and her family opened up their home to this weary traveller for a night of respite.

brenham--home to the famed blue bell creamery (not to be confused with my dad's employer blue bunny ice cream)--is just the sort of all-american home town that many dream of. it also provides the perfect porch on which to sit, drink some coffee, and blog away.

jailtime movie

raw and unedited! (mostly) check this out: turning myself in to the pensacola jail

true grit

driving into new orleans on i-10 westbound, i was shocked. for miles, the devistation wrought by hurricane katrina is still apparent. no--it is in-your-face, confrontational. literally, i had to look at shops, box stores, strip malls: all desolate, torn apart, littered with debris. suburb after subrb, street after street, house after house: empty, deserted. the only sign of life were the rows of fema trailers, lined up like anemic little soldiers, waiting for the next command.

the city is crawling from the effects of the storm. a few nights ago, i was unable to get food from a little diner. "we're on a shift change now. the kitchen has to be restocked and cleaned before we can even begin to take orders," i was told by the man who usually took orders from behind the counter. workers are needed everywhere, and when they aren't available, the customers simply have to wait.

the judicial system is practically at a standstill, with months and months of backlogged cases clogging the the judges work, allowing only a painfully drudging process to continue. law enforcement continues, somehow, but it's hard to believe that, when hardly any sign of a cop's existence is readily available.

still, despite it's fight and struggle to continue, this city down south manages. it manages to live on and even maintain its identy and its attitude. even if it's reputation is worn and rusted by the storm, it's character is still the gritty, rough-and-tumble place it has always been. and i mean that in a hip, organically trendy way that you can only find in here. a place like none other, dirty and fun (and i'm not talkin' about the french quarter), i like new orleans.

new orleans

pensacola

jailtime

in order to fulfill my legal obligations from 5 months ago, i spent last week in pensacola, florida. rather than lathering my white skin in oil, grabbing a towel and a board, and heading to the white sands of the redneck riviera; i made a straight shot for the bad boy bunkhouse.

i thought i would only be spending a single night in a cell, but that turned out to be 4 nights instead. maybe if the food consisted of a little more than a dry piece of bologna on sticky white wonder bread, i would have felt a little more at home. fortunately, i was able to watch a little tv with my new mates, and i saw no shortage of the jeffersons, bernie mac, and the cosby show. now i know what malcolm-jamal warner is really all about. the culmination of the inmate bond was the night we all gathered around the tellie with the officer on duty to rally around the top eight finalists of this season's american idol (pick pickler!)

the week ended friday afternoon as i was let out nine hours early on good behavior. either that or the jail was bustin at the seams, and they needed to kick out all of the trespassers in the bunch. apparently, that was me.

podcast//9

exclusive!click here for podcast//9on religion, the deep south, and beards

au revoir, atl

click here for podcast//7on cosby kids, australia, and other "islands"

podcast//7

click here for podcast//7on death cab, albuquerque, and feathers

sunset

i was pulling up behind a long string of army vehicles. jeeps, trucks, cargo carriers. and there i was on my little green vespa (that's 'vintage green' i was told at the dealer). my feelings were precarious, unbalanced. There was a bit of vulnerability due to the obvious contrast between macho army hummers and the vintage green vespa trailing behind. but the embarrassment was tempered with my ability to cruise swiftly up to the rear of the last truck and casually switch lanes, passing every slow moving vehicle to my right.

from behind, i could hear a steadily increasing whir of reving engines. the noise grew louder and louder, but i didn't turn to see the noise. suddenly, i was surrounded by hordes of bikers. they began to speed past, and my teetering emotion suddenly slipped into the the left lane with me. my emotions became only a desire to strain, with all the energy my scooter and i could muster, to keep up with the crotch-rockety bikers. the twentieth member of the gang passed me quickly, without effort.

but in a moment of selflessness, he turned and motioned towards me. with a wave of his hand, he beckoned me to follow. "come on, stay with us. you can do it" he seemed to say.

i watched him speed on. if only i could. if only my little engine could. if only i and my little vintage green scooter could. but they were already gone. the boys had me--disappointed and alone on my scooter--in their trail. all i had left behind was the georgia sunset fading behind me.

podcast//6

click here for podcast//6on canada, unicorns, and pompadours