It's okay if things are...

Oh good every now and again.

And right now, things are very good.

Unless you're that lady in New York that ate her baby's brain and face...then things are bad.

But for me, pretty good.

Family Portrait

"How many people are in the house, ma'am?"

"6."

"No, 7."

"6."

"7!"

The Dreaded Oh Good Inquisitor.

Better than a frat house, because no frat guys live in it. You'll never find a sideways hat here, unless it's tipped on Kyle's drunk, passed out head. We have O-Weens that end in sticky floors and trips to the recycling center. Although four people actually live there, at any given time, you can find an additional three or more guests. The place where two cats are just as much work as one cat. Pass by in the evening, you can find us sitting on the front porch, admiring our museum, drinking Natty Light, smoking cigarettes, listening to old records, and enjoying each others company.

Walkin' down the streets in Highland Park, never thought you'd be scared of the dark...

The Pirate house is my family, and for the first time, in a long time, everything feels...right.

Kyle, Eddie and Sara actually pay rent, the rest of the deck hands help provide endless hours of gut busting laughter and insightful advice. We are a full crew of scalawags and swashbuckling adventure seekers. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Welcome aboard: Elizabeth, if you need something you can't find, don't worry, it'll ch-ow you.

You can be assured when I hear the swing back of the screen door I rush upstairs to see Elizabeth and say, "YAY!" Yeah, I pretty much adore her. A perfect compliment to my roommate Kyle, Elizabeth is radtastical. She's fun, loves awesome music, is in a great band, and she likes me (a quality I enjoy in most people). And let's be honest here, if you can help bathe Captain Pee Pee Pants after a long weekend of drinking and not sleeping, you're pretty much my hero. I've got to stop talking about Elizabeth, it sounds like I have a crush on her. But, yeah, she's great.

Oh Pete: You old salty dog. I know something is actually funny when you're laughing at it. Thanks for being my funny-meter.

No one is more suited for my best friend and sister like Pete. They very clearly drive each other crazy, and at the end of the day support and care for one another completely. Pete is a great guy, and the fact that he puts up with Sara and Sara 2's bullshit on a day to day basis, is pretty amazing. He genuinely cares about all of us and knows how to have a good time. Pete also makes a killer margarita in his magic bullet. Even though The Politicians have broken up a million times, they're still great bowlers and musicians, and I'm grateful to Punk Rock Bowling for bringing us all together. He makes Sara happy, and that makes me happy. Pete, I think you're pretty awesome.

Other crew members include, but not limited to:

Raul: Master of Disguise, Keeper of the Lightsabers (for the wii), Excellent Bowler, Wearer of Jeans, Born Again Rock Star. And my friend.

Merryn: Maker of Videos, Allergic to Shellfish, Eater of imitation Crab, Lover of Cake. Overall Great Person.


More matties to come.

Whaaa? Wednesday

It's time for... Whaaa? Wednesday!


Seriously, folks, the Japanese invent some pretty amazing, useless crap, but this one might be brilliant. Because eating soup with chopsticks isn't awkward enough, now you can do it in style. Not only will I fulfill my dream of looking like a hot pink sunflower, but my hair will forever stay out of my food! Amazing. It can also act as a splash guard against scalding broth ricocheting of your delicate ears and forehead. Does this come in one-size-fits-all? Because not all faces are created equally. And I'm a little concerned for the long haired population, I mean, can you not just tie back your hair? I know we Americans like to complicate things, but come on, get a rubber band. Someone should tell this women to cheer up, she no longer has to shower after meals. Food free hair for a lifetime.

This is the life.

Volumes of Chapters

Local bands hardly get enough credit and recognition for the art they spend so many hours creating. Even some popular music, idolized by myself and a select few hundred around the world, are passed over by the youthful masses who are trying to get their grubby paws on the newest Fall Out Boy album, or the latest release by pop sensation Justin Timberlake. Don't get me wrong, both are valid musicians (I guess), it just makes me sad to see something I truly admire passed by for the same sack of over processed auto-tuned dribble. Music has always played a huge part in my life, as with most of the general population. We all have songs that strike up emotions in us we cannot explain. We all connect certain pieces of music to specific events in our lives. We become nostalgic and existential.

When I am graced with the opportunity to enjoy new music, I seize it with incredible force. It is not often I find something I enjoy listening to made by this generation. My usual repertoire of melodic stomping and clapping of Tom Waits records mixed with the sweet child-like voices and plaything sounds of CocoRosie, is not your typical Top 40 Hit. Exploring and sharing new music should be a collaborative effort, if you have something magnificent to share, please feel free to pass it my way. Below are a few bands and songs you should keep your ears peeled for (Sara, that one's for you).

The Ignorant

Local Los Angeles based band, The Ignorant, currently recording their next album, a split with Johnny Madcap and the Distractions, due later this year on Northeast Records, is about to head across the US for their countrywide tour. When listening to this four piece punk band, it's easy to see they are musically influenced by The Ramones, The Clash, and Youth Brigade, to name a few, mixed with the poetic lyricism of old souls like Dylan and Waits. Full of powerful energy and a few too many whiskey shots, this is a band you'll want to see live.

Tour schedule can be found online. Listen to their music: www.myspace.com/theignorant

Black Party Politics

When trying to classify Black Party Politics, I usually draw a complicated blank. Are they experimental rock, infused with funk, with a dash of soul, sprinkled with passionate and provocative lyrics? Sure. That's sounds about right. This dynamic band, fronted by vocal powerhouse Eddie Henry, busts down the walls of todays popular music, embodying a sound to lead and inspire future musicians to create music like they did in the good-ol'-days. Creating a visible explosive chemistry, Black Party Politics tears up a stage and leaves a lasting impression to its audience. With a growing fan base, this young band proves to have a promising future. Some older recordings and recent video of live performances are up on: www.myspace.com/blackpartypolitics

Check out Black Party Politics at their monthly warehouse show, The Boogie Den, the last Saturday night of the month. Great deal, $10 at the door, OPEN BAR all night, vintage clothing sale $4 per pound of clothing, and superb live music.

Brandon Jordan

Said to be the voice of our generation, the lead singer for LA band, Kill Radio, heads up his solo project, recording everything on his own. Jordan's masterful guitar playing matched with painfully beautiful lyrics shows us a completely different sound to his raw and ravenous vocals for Kill Radio. As a big fan of both, it's incredible to see Jordan's transformation between projects, and inspiring to witness the growth in this particular performer. His music is personal and relatable. For Brandon's solo project: www.myspace.com/brandonjordanfree And for Kill Radio: www.myspace.com/killradio

Kill Radio will be playing their first show back from hiatus at Black Party Politics Boogie Den. Check out the space for more information.

Fun Machine

Although not a Los Angeles band, local New Jersey band Fun Machine recently rolled through LA on their countrywide tour booked through Nine 12 Records. Fun Machine's original circus sounds in a hall of mirrors can make even the squarest of squares get on their feet. Not only are they a group of genuinely good folks, their bizarre music is catchy and, for lack of a better word, fun to listen to. Their latest release, Sonnenhuhn, can be purchased through iTunes and Amazon, and if you don't live on the East coast, take advantage of the ease in which to purchase this record. Hopefully Fun Machine will hit the road again, this is a band I will continue to follow.

Take a listen: www.myspace.com/funmachine

Killsonic

What would you do if you were waiting to ride the Metro Red Line and all of a sudden a twenty plus piece band invades the underground LA tunnels with a cloud of big band jazz punk music? Well...you enjoy it. Dressed to the nines in all black with red accents, Killsonic is littered with accordions, horns, drums, cymbals, whistles and a megaphone, creating original, experimental, improvisational music in various unique locations. Watching each live performance is like watching Picasso paint a masterpiece right before your very eyes. Each musician brings their own unique style to this collaborative effort, showcasing their strengths and supporting their weaknesses. They have two releases to date and are working with new musicians everyday, always experimenting with new sounds. Lead by band leader, Princess Frank, vocalist and guitar for Masterslave, this one of a kind group of performers is an exciting experience you should see at least once.

Visit their space for show info: www.myspace.com/killsonic

Loves It

In The Room Where You Sleep (live video version)

Is This a Dream?...

I'm finally going to use my degree.

I must be asleep.

Let the dream-ballet sequence begin.

Immorality and Gutter Balls

That's a good band name. As my weekly headache rages on in the stage right side of my brain, I sit and ponder my forthcoming day. Twain attacks a bag in the background and Mr. Bungle watches out of pure boredom. This is clearly a day in the life of.  

I feel like making a composition of words, a potpourri of thoughts, if you will. I don't want to mention my lack of focus, or my inability to motivate myself into doing something productive...I just did both if those things in explaining my desire to not mention them. Anywho, here goes.

It fascinates me how I can be so attached to a fleeting moment. How one singular thought stays with me and haunts my present happiness. This was my transition to begin dissecting my recent departure from Gymboree, but as it always does, my Kingsmen summer memory destroys my mind and I'm left with the aftermath of a hurricane. I've never missed a person the way I've missed the warmth of that summer. The knot in my gut unfurls its tight fingers and a wave of nauseating emotions chokes my sanity. I am in love with a time that will never again be the present. How can this be possible? Will this irrational love block my heart from real human penetration? Sadly, I believe this.  

It wasn't just the fun, or the insanely artistic experiences, it was those insignificant little paint splatters that pull my strings and constrict my limbs. I am my own puppet, and I cannot, will not, set me down. Appropriate carnival music flows through the carcass of my selected past, bearded ladies and high wire balancing Siamese twins book end my bizarre desire to return to this circus. I was never good with goodbye.  

I'm starving for concentration.  

My first memory is of my fourth birthday party, my grandparents' backyard in Miami. Red brick patio, neverending citrus trees and the greenest grass I've never again seen. It is a vast jungle, sweet smells and humid air. Often times when I dream, I am back there. And although I have not seen this yard since I was a young child, I can see it as vividly as I was actually still there. In my dream, nothing has changed. My grandmother is there, in her perfectly placed hair, breath of rose candy, and the most beautiful smile shared by three generations. My grandfather's worked hands scoop me up into a hug I never want to let go. He is strong, masculine, and the most loving, sensible man I will ever know. Together, they are everything. He pushes me in a swing, she sings me a song of white doves. I never want to wake up.  

And then I do.  

It's a January morning, we're in our New Mexico home, my mother, John, my grandparents, I'm wearing a quilted, light pink robe that ties in the front with delicate pink ribbon. Next to the dark wood kitchen window shutters, there is a Minnie Mouse cake in front of me on the dining room table. I can still taste it. I've never had that taste again.  

I'd give anything to eat it again.  

When my mother and I stepped into our first Arizona home I knew life had changed for the better. We ate Boar's Head ham straight out of the plastic bag and both feel asleep in the sunlight streaked living room floor. I can still feel the new carpet soft on the cheek and the sun soaking into my restful body. I will never forget that day.  

My mother and father have given me a beautiful life.  

Just beautiful.  

Beautiful.  

I'm going to clean up some of the hurricane's mess, but I'm not going to rebuild. I like feeling this way. Alive. Appreciating the past as making me the person I am continuing to become.

Back to Life, Back to Normalcy

Whoever said "Normalcy" was the key to anything, clearly never met me. 

Or is it whomever? 

Whatever.

Disney Differences

Sarita was getting some details confused with the two Disney classics Sleeping Beauty and Snow White. The following is an excerpt from the resolving conversation:

N: Sleeping Beauty has three witches and Snow White has seven dwarfs, they both have evil queens and princes. 

S: So Sleeping Beauty and Snow White both have fake things helping them.

N: Let's just be honest here, witches are fake, but I'm pretty sure dwarfs are real.

S: I guess.

Horrible Sorabol

Sorabol is the reason I decide on eating the same things all the time. 

A few days ago, Pirate Sarita and I decided to try out a place we've never seen in the Glendale Galleria. I believe the interaction went as so, "How come we've never eaten here before?" "I don't know, we should try it on our way out." It was as if the Food Gods were shitting above us, shining a light on the worst possible place to consume what Sorabol calls food.

Hoping we had stumbled upon a Panda Express type restaurant, we decide to share a combo plate, which by the price listing sounded reasonably cheep, and you know how hard it is for a Pirate to resist a deal! We choose the 2 meat entree, which came with your choice of white or brown rice, or glass noodles. Oh, glass noodles, yes please! 

The meat selection was dismal. There was Lemon Chicken, which we sampled upon entering, and the other questionable choices included some beef that looked like cat diarrhea, another beef dish that also resembled cat diarrhea, and a single piece of dried up fish that was topped with a sauce that resembled cat diarrhea.  But wait, light at the end of the tunnel, potstickers! So we went with the glass noodles, lemon chicken and potstickers. 

"What is your 2nd meat choice?" asked the surly lady behind the sneeze guard. 

"Potsitckers," we replied.

"No, those are extra 89 cents."

What? This is clearly not Panda Express.

After annoying us with the food selection, we just folded and asked for 2 potstickers on the side and a drink to share. 

"$11.75," she says.

WTF@%&^(*)(&)(^*%&WTF? 

We paid the lady the money, but only after sizable amount of bitching, and proceeded to our table. I could feel her eye-daggers as we ate the disappointing meal. 

Glass Noodles tasted like plastic. Lemon Chicken was tasteless. Strange vegetables pickled in a stranger sauce. Potstickers were pretty good. In true Sara and Sara2 fashion (that ones for you, Pete) we complained all the way out of the restaurant, all the way to the car and all the way home. Clearly I'm still upset by the situation because I'm complain typing about it days after the fact. 

Never eat at Sorabol. Never ever. It's awful and disgusting and I refuse to be elegant about the way I describe it. No frilly language or funny jokes, this place SUCKS! It deserves all caps, an overused teenage complaint word and an exclamation mark. SUCKS!

I've said my piece. 

Motivation is a Bitch with a Friend Called Focus

I've always felt I was a focused person, but the older I've grown I've come to realize that's not the case at all. For example, I'd say I was focused when it came to theatre, but that wasn't necessarily true, for I was more all over the place doing everything theatre related, i.e. costumes, directing, acting, improv, you name it. And even if you do call that focused, I often ditched the majority of my classes to do theatre work, counterproductive, wouldn't you say? 

I'm an easily distracted person, I'm not talking shiny objects or flashes of light, but more(and here's the lack of focus talking) I'm easily interested in constantly changing. How did I once put it to my good friend Christina? "You change your career goals like you wake up and choose what kind of underwear to put on in the morning." Perhaps that's why we get along so well. I believe it's the same for her as it is for me, there are just too many things I want to do, but I can't seem to choose the one to focus on. I also believe, for me, I CAN focus, but I lack the motivation for the follow through. Is it I'm afraid to fail? Is it I know others want it more than me? Whatever the psycho-babble tells me, I realized this morning, as I climbed into my Gymboree battle wear that I need to focus. 

"Wake up!" my brain yelled. "Drink us some coffee and get a move on!" And so I did. 

There is a road, it way not be the one less traveled on, or any other cliche flowery literary reference, but it is a statement made about underwear that gets my ass in gear. 

How appropriate.