I have found that in the wake of the nervous breakdown of ’03, driving the highways and by-ways of Los Angeles puts me in an almost zen-like state of relaxation. Funny, no?
And I find myself taking the scenic route a lot these days, not in any huge rush to get anywhere, with one sweet exception. Things are good and exciting and I’m arguably having the best 12 months of my adult life, but with all of that comes new attendant kinds of anxiety. I’ve got a great support base, and as Mama H says: “even if it’s not the adventure you set out on, it’s still an adventure.”
Of course, she also says, “the only benefit to being an adult is that you get to eat dessert first.”
ANYWAY. Hopefully some fun, exciting updates soon. In the interval, I’ll be driving.
I had intended on doing this in half the time, ’cause I was going to be a famous Hollywood actor. As it happens, I paid off my student loan in exactly the amount of time that was expected. It’s the small victories.
Now. How’s about that one bedroom apartment, 2010?
I broke up with my girlfriend on Christmas Day in 1993. It was something that probably should’ve happened sooner (or maybe a TAD later), but the sheer tackiness of this weighs on me a bit every year.
You may or may not remember, but last year I posted a song by Si Cranstoun of the awesome Brit ska band The Dualers right around Thanksgiving, give or take.
See, I’m an only child, and was kind of a fragile wee one (if you haven’t already been able to suss that out), and as such my folks plied my with lots and lots of toys. Christmas morning was a veritable orgy of shredded wrapping paper and molded plastic at the H. household. Wait. That sounds wrong…
I was usually thankful, but not always. In fact, I was a downright asshole to my parents on a number of occasions when really I should’ve been grateful I didn’t get a sound thrashing* for my behavior. As the years went by, I chilled the fuck out and now all I want from my folks (and almost all of the folks in my life) is for them to have long life and good fortune, and maybe a new pack of athletic socks, which they’re always, ALWAYS good for.
My parents, that is. My friends have NEVER bought me athletic socks, and I’m a little grateful for that.
Now. That being said there were two toys that I never got, and to this very day am determined to get them for myself at some point. It should be noted that while there are newer versions of both of these, I am resolved to get the ones that were available when I was a kid, in their original box if possible. They are:
The Snoopy Sno-Cone Maker.
And you guys can come over, and I’ll make you one!
The Empire Strikes Back Turret and Probot Playset
Now see, this is an oddball because I was one of those kids that had almost ALL of the Star Wars toys, and I’m not being hyperbolic. But this and the original Death Star playset eluded me, and while I’m willing to let the foam-rubber trash compacter slide, there’s something about the look and sheer action of this playset that somehow still appeals to me.
At this point, I’d like to say that I’m way into rock music and girls. I’m not all geeky references and stuff.
Also, I’d like to point out that I heart you all, and I hope this Holiday season treats you all very, very well.
m.h.
*you should also know that my folks were not really into corporal punishment. I can count on one hand the number of times they struck me, and in retrospect, I deserved it.
And after my Paris-to-Dakar like stamina blogging in October (video posting is a cop out, but I wrote everyday, dammit!), I’ve petered out a bit. So here’s some quick bits:
1) Going on a family vacation to Vegas. For Thanksgiving. Expect lots of fun tweets.
2) FZ6D continues apace and I’m getting tired of waiting for it to get here, dammit.
3) Going on LOTS Of auditions and getting closer and closer to being cast.
And I looked at a sweet vintage Vespa this past weekend but have decided that it’s just not practical. When did I get THIS grown up?
See, normally I do a Holiday mix cd (non-denominational but admittedly Judeo-Christian skewing) as an inexpensive but personal way to show my friends and family love this time of year. Sadly, due to a few technical issues I will not be able to do this for the coming Holiday season.
Now: I abhor talking on the phone (long story), but a happy byproduct of that is that I have a tidy surplus of night/anytime minutes at my disposal, so I had an idea…
I am willing and able to call any of y’all and sing a snippet of ANY holiday song of your choice anytime between December 1st and 31st. The only stipulation being you give me time to research it if need be!
So if you’re interested, email/txt/ping/whatever me with the following info:
1) Song/artist
2) Preferred date in December
3) Time of day you’d prefer your call
It’s silly, I know. But 2009 has proved to be a doozy, and I wantto let you all know I care.
There’s a story that they tell in the southwest about a woman done wrong who murders her children to spite a lover and then accidentally (depending on the version) kills herself. It’s called (you guessed it) “La Llorona,” or “the wailing woman” for you non spanish speakers out there.
And buster, you want THE thing that consistently freaked me out from ages 5-13? This is it.
See, in New Mexico she is also known as “The Ditch Witch,” and is used as a cautionary tale to keep children away from the concrete ditches that weave through the city and are known to be fatal during flash floods. Y’see, in one telling of the story she drowns her children and then jumps in the Rio Grande after them to try and save them, but smacks her head on a rock and dies instantly. Her spirit then wanders for eternity looking for her missing children. And the wisdom goes that if you’re playing in a ditch/after dark/being unruly, she’ll come and get you and take you away to the spirit world with her.
I eventually got over my fear, but I should mention that up until his early 20′s, a friend of mine who had a ditch just on the other side of his fence lived in mortal fear of La Llorona.
And my gift to you is THIS version by quintessential New Mexican storyteller, Joe Hayes.
