My Academy predictions

BEST PICTURE - BABEL - I've got a feeling Little Miss is a little too small, and Departed a little too Genre. Babel may be a little too Crash, but I doubt it.

ACTOR: Forest Whitaker – Cause he's been winning a lot and O'Toole - though heady competition, already has one.

ACTOR -SUPPORTING: Eddie Murphy – Though Jeff Wells may be annoyed, I feel like that Eddie gets it. Though Alan Arkin could sneak in like a thief in the night.

The ZZZZZZZZZZZ (or Duh's)
ACTRESS :Helen Mirren – THE QUEEN
ACTRESS -SUPPORTING: Jennifer Hudson – DREAMGIRLS
SCREENPLAY -- ADAPTED: THE DEPARTED
SCREENPLAY -- ORIGINAL: LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
DIRECTING: THE DEPARTED - As locked up as Mirren's

ANIMATED FEATURE: HAPPY FEET - cause real heads know that Cars was weak shit.

CINEMATOGRAPHY: CHILDREN OF MEN - Cause, how could they not

ORIGINAL SONG - “Listen” – DREAMGIRLS
SOUND MIXING: DREAMGIRLS
COSTUME DESIGN:DREAMGIRLS - Sorry we shut you out.

DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH - We Want Gore!

ART DIRECTION: PAN’S LABYRINTH
MAKEUP: PAN’S LABYRINTH
FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM: PAN’S LABYRINTH - Go Guillermo, go!

ORIGINAL SCORE: BABEL - Spoiler would be Pan's

FILM EDITING: BABEL, THE DEPARTED, or UNITED 93 This makes me completely unsure.

VISUAL EFFECTS: PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN’S CHEST

SOUND EDITING: LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA - I hope you enjoy your consolation prize, Clint

SHORT FILM -- LIVE ACTION
SHORT FILM -- ANIMATED
DOCUMENTARY SHORT - who cares? (cpeting those nominated, and good for you and shit)

Like a cat dunked into water

I have a couple close friends out here, but by the nature of this town, it's never very easy to see many of them, and now with the kid, near impossible. One of my oldest, Sarah, came by for dinner last night. Sarah's been in a couple of movies, and we've always been just friends, and for about two years straight every weekend we went out dancing together. She moved to LA in 2002-ish, and we've only recently reconnected after literally running into each other on the street, and so I thought I should have her over to meet the baby. After she left I got an ear full. And I guess I understand, though I've had female friends all my life, you essentially have to work together, or go to school together to enjoy a solid platonic bond. Otherwise, those sort of friendships are as Chris Rock described, situations where you wanted to date, but ended up in the friendzone. And women know that so when you have a female friend who's attractive it can bring up a lot of issues. Basically, it can make a woman feel like silver or a bronze. But Sarah and I used to work together, and it's just never been there with us. It's kind of strange, too, I can't think of any point in our relationship where I was even thinking about it. Somethimes there's a bell curve effect, where attractions wax or wane, and I can't think of that point with us, though I've known Sarah for about ten years now, so perhaps I literally can't remember.

Sarah knew what was going on and tried to roll with it, but we have a relationship, so it's easy for us to fall into paterns, and then there's my wife. She feels unattractive, doesn't like having sex with me, but sometimes forces herself to. This is easily the worst and tenderest part of our relationship right now. Four months ago, she literally couldn't get enough of my sexin', and that was a little bit awkward for me when she was superpregnant. But I soldiered on. Now it's sort of a damend if you do, damned if you don't thing. I think we both fake how tired we are sometimes. I'm still sort of imprisoned by her, because if I jerk off in the interim, she can tell by my ejaculant. I'm sure everyone wanted to know that. The funny thing is, even though the sex can be rather mechanical, I still get off. My wife can give me a half hearted blowjob, and it works every time. I could return the favor, and have and sometimes if a woman don't want to, she won't, no matter how long you go. It's such a sad comment on me. So anyway, the wife kinda hates Sarah right now, and of course she wanted to have sex last night. She was literally cursing me out in Finnish, it was angry almost scary sex, but for the first time since the baby she had an orgasm. The kind that should have woken the baby, if she wasn't literally biting a pillow (she was however shaking the bed quite a bit). And after she did, I held her as she cried for about fifteen minutes. Last night I had all the baby duties. I kind of want to ask if that was the most intense one she's ever had, but if it isn't I really don't want to know.

The only DVD worth buying for the next couple...

Watching the United 93 supplements

An idea for a not great film, but interesting nonetheless: An actor/actress playing someone's husband/wife in a recreation of a tragedy ends up fucking/in a relationship with their widow/widower.

Have a beer

Okay. I just got a call from someone I dated briefly when I first moved to Los Angeles, nearly two years ago. She didn't know I got married. That's a fucked up conversation I just had. Time passes so quickly, five years ago the WTC went down, I was living in a basement apartment, dating someone else. I can't even think what I was doing ten years ago - probably heading to college after seeing Prince, actually (actually I just checked, I was off by a year and a couple weeks on that one). But my point is those five years have been the fastest of my life, and the last two have been crazy. But I think she wanted to do something tonight. Things ended... Okay I guess. She was heading to Colorado for some work related stuff for a couple of months, and after a couple of dates, there wasn't the connection there to keep us going with such an absence. When she got back into la there was that flurry of "we should do something" calls, and then nothing and then my wife.

The new house is great by the way. I'd say we're getting close to feeling settled.

Five years ago Autumn called me at four in the morning. She was going to see Radiohead in Germany, and the time difference was so fucked that if we were to talk at all, it was gonna be while I was sleeping. We talked briefly, but I couldn't rouse myself. Heading back to bed, I laid down and realized it was going to take some effort to get back to sleep, as by the time I got off the phone, I had woken up enough to have a conversation.

A couple hours or minutes later the phone rang again. I was slightly annoyed, honestly. Autumn wanted to tell me that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. I was still sleepy, and couldn't really think about the words. I tried to calm her down, but I had no real idea what was going on, as my brain was already addled from the lack of sleep, and twice being woken up in the middle of the night. And so I went back to bed. But then I couldn't get any sleep, as again I had realized what we were talking about after I got off the phone. I woke up finally to Howard Stern. Everything was nuts on air, and Crazy Cabbie was watching the WTC going down, and I tried to wrap my head around the severity of what was going on. I got up at 7, most of the worst of it had already gone down, but no one knew that, and once peope figured out what had happened and why, no one was sure what would or could come next. I drove into work as my boss (whose wife was born on 9/11) and some of my coworkers were in Los Angeles for the week.

Driving in, it felt like a ghost town. Work was useless. I called my brother repeatedly, but the lines were jammed. He didn't live anywhere near downtown New York, but it'd be a bad day for him or his future ex-wife to be in town. I finally got through later in the afternoon. Everyone was glued to the radio, the few televisions (some which were bought that day), or the computer. The computer was my vice, and information trickled in. Then at 9:45, I left the office and headed over to the Fox Tower. That day it was my job to watch the Mariah Carrey film Glitter.

We went over to the theater, and everyone was acting in that same way of just complete and utter disconnectedness. The town was quiet. You wouldn't hear much of anything. And then we went in and dutifully watched the movie. Now, I own Glitter. I haven't watched it in five years, but there it is.

The rest of the day at work was a joke. I just read message boards and looked at footage of the towers going down of the net. I went to my friend DK's house and borrowed his advance copy of Phantom of the Paradise, because I wanted something to cheer me up. I went to the nearby Fred Meyers, bought a six pack of Bass (which their scanners would often ring up for $1.25) and remember being assaulted by the rows of televisions, playing endless repeats of the towers collapsing.

By that Friday, I saw two guys in the back of a pickup holding on to an American flag hanging awkwardly out of the back of the truck. It took roughly three days for real care and concern to be turned into jingoism and a grotesque patriotism that suggested we should all be proud to be Americans, instead of maybe just lucky or humble. That weekend I also watched Armageddon and King Kong. I, at least, enjoyed the latter.

That girl who didn't know I got married... I don't think it would have worked out had she been around. I think she knew it too. It just never got to bloom, so I don't know. But she did like being spanked, and that just did nothing for me. Nothing at all.

From LA

So perfect.

I can't help it, if I wanted to,

I can't help it even if I could

I've begun packing. The wife is useless, mostly by my proclamations. We found a house. But finances be tight. We've got to make good on our year lease (we got something of a sweetheart deal), and the wife has a nest egg, but things are in transition. And I find like my parent's marriage, I keep afloat, and she's the saver. But then again she makes so much more than me. Which is an issue, but there you go. I have too many fucking DVD's, so this is another chance to box them up. It looks like everything will be closed up by the end of June, so we'll probably be able to move in by August. We are getting some work done on it, but it's minor things. And now I have weekend plans to baby proof a room.

Look, honestly, I don't want to live in Burbank. I never did. The commute (if I keep it up) will be that much quicker, but this house is a temporary solution to our long term problems. And I hate thinking of myself as a deadbeat dad. LA friends, I will get you drunk if you give a helping hand. FYI. The place is slightly better than my condo, and a little bit more space. I showed it to my mom, who was in town for the weekend. We commiserated over LA prices.

I took her to the MOCA. Preston Fairy was there for a signing. Real heads who know the deal know that "we" were the Preston Fairy of Snakes on a Plane. But there was a Robert Rauschenberg exhibit, and I must say I almost cried looking at Factum I and II. The idea of the piece was that Rauschenberg wanted to show that his art was not the act of randomness that others may have suggested. But in the two versions, there are millions of little differences. So much of creating art is creating failure. So much of art is trying to create precision in randomness. So much of art is instinct mixed with discipline. He both succeed and failed miserably. That's great art.

The taint is the body's Rhode Island.

I once fucked a girl who had a shamrock shaved into her pubes. Must have been a Celtics fan.

My old job and me.

I still follow the numbers. Every Saturday I hit MCN or B.O. Mojo to see how much business the movies did. These numbers told the story of how my Monday was going to go. Sometimes I'd stop by the office and see exactly how my theaters did. I worked in exhibition for a theater chain for five years and had over a hundred screens under my belt. It wasn't a hard job, per se, but there were things to it. You don't get to add second prints on Monday normally, print buys were long done by then, so there was always a gambling aspect to the job. I sometimes think of one of the last gambles I took (and lost) and wonder if that reflected on me being let go. Sometimes I think it did, but mostly I figure the books were closed long before I got myself into a small hot spot.

Off topic, but just the same, I'm glad things have worked out how they have, and I'm glad to be in LA with my often glowing pregnant wife. We're more than three months down, with less than six to go. We're expecting in early October. Scary scary. The doctor's appointments have gone well. We've decided we're waiting until birth to find out the kid's sex.

But the old job is why I'm fascinated by M:I:III's 17 million dollar opening. It tells a story, because nowadays one day's number suggests the fate of a film. Word of Mouth has been successfully killed as a factor into long playdates for big films. Sure, word of mouth happens, but it's few (The Sixth Sense) and far between (My Big Fat Greek Wedding), and isn't effective on what are considered easy sells. Most word of mouth goes now (thanks in some small part to AICN) to pictures before they open. They solidify the see/not see factor. And once you've studied the patterns of box office, you get a pretty concrete sense of what a number spells, because you've seen those numbers before.

And then also, the 17? Could be fictional. The film's reported budget of 150? More than likely made up. Cruise gets back end (hey now) percentage points. The film has been in development for years. The film was also probably shot in a lot of Paramount owned locations, so the studio paid itself money to make its own movie. Numbers are often fudged a little to make people happy.

Me, I'm going to see United 93 tonight.

Celeb Sightings

The best of the last couple was seeing Kenneth Johnson of THE SHIELD a couple days after the finale of Season 5, but I just saw Jennifer Love Hewitt on Franklin in front of Birds. What does it matter? Nothing. There you go.

Film Criticism I Hate

getting it/not getting it: Sure, there are some instances of this, some I could draw easy links to, it's just films often are open to interpretation. If someone proves to understand a narative for what it is and then doesn't like it, then they get it.

overrated: The lamest criticism in the history of the world. It says nothing, other than it suggests (as the previous does) "others were fooled." Good not great is a better alternative, but suggesting that is the end of the discussion is frustrating beyond words.

Then again, she's half undressed...

Fists in the Pocket
It's Always Fair Weather

Went to a bachelor party last night. I was running late, as I barely had any time to watch what I had to watch, and showed at the dinner as it was wrapping up. I get there, and the man of Honor, Dave, was already drunk. He had called cause I was running late, and the thought of flaking had occurred as I still hadn't finished everything I needed to (sorry, Dave), but I showed and it was great. Dave's drunk and some guy shows up saying "Hey I saw you were looking at my wife's ass in the bathroom. Let's go." Dave, taking it in stride said "Okay, let's go." The dude kept pressing, and Dave said shit like "I'm looking at you and your wife can't be that hot, so let's go." As I was sitting next to him, all I could do was laugh. Dave stood up and the people there held him back, and the dude back, and then other friends of his, and the manager of the restaurant came over. The dude looked kind of familiar, but I didn't say anything, and as it turned out it was a practical joke on David. It was this guy who I kinda thought it was. And I said to the person sitting next to me, "A dildo, not your dildo." And as we found out later, I was right.

We went back and played poker, a little Texas Hold Them. Thirteen at the table, many drinking or amateurs. Not knowing the lay of Silverlake so well treated me right as I was unwilling to drink all that heavily, and knowing the game put me in a bit of an advantage. We were playing tournament style so top three we money winners, and knowing that I played fast and mostly tight. Getting a suited Ace Eight (DEAD MAN'S HAND), I pressed my luck, and pulled an all in win to get me into heavy chips, though I never got the lead (there was someone there who seemed the best of the lot). I knew that I had chips, and that with so many at the table it was simply a waiting game. People were going to and did take hot chances on okay cards, not waiting for the flop to press their luck, you get that many people going, the table had stages where it went from thirteen to eleven, and then to seven, and then five. There it got cutthroat, but being a chip leader I was able to do some bullying - when you have high chips (not that I'm saying anything new) you put people in positions where they feel the pressure. I had one bad lay where I had trip fives, and the river netted my opponent a flush, but otherwise, I played strong and steady. I had a Rounders moment where I told my fellow player exactly what he had and what I was doing. I could tell that riled some people, but it sort of worked to my advantage. Towards the end, I was running in second, and the chip leader and myself did what was best, which was let the two at the end fight amongst themselves. Doing so sort of tied me with the third best, so instead of splitting the pot 50/30/20, we went 50/25/25, because playing it out at 2 am was just getting wearisome. But that's poker. It's not how you start. So I went out and made a profit by going to a bachelor party. NICE.

I've been doing this for a year?

And what have I gotten out of it? Nothing. No free toaster. Nothing. Mr. Pill popping rock star... Nothing.

My work situation, which I've chosen not to talk much about for various reasons, is in some tumult because (within the last two weeks) two people have quit to go on to bigger and better, another uncerimoniously resigned, while word is another will be leaving our department in the nearer of futures. All of whom had been with the company for much much longer than I have. Last night some coworkers went out to celebrate one of the happier leavings, and I finally showed around tenish. Mostly because I had just gotten out of work after pulling a sixty hour week. Things were wrapping up, and the person leaving was hammered in such a way that was very cute for a girl, though she was having balance and perception problems, and when I showed up she was happy to see me in that drunken way that immediately intrudes on your personal bubble. This isn't a good or bad thing, it just is, and it was interesting to me to note my reaction to it, which is that I kinda recoiled. What interests me about this is that I can be an outrageous flirt, so I guess I'm better at giving than taking this. The shoe was on the other hand, as it were. It also made me think that most of the people I tend to drink with don't get all cute drunk. Cause they're men and they tend to drink regular, and don't get all flittery. I drink with the wrong people, I guess.

I also did the farewell lunch. This is something I'm not that fond of when you get paid hourly. It's not that I don't want to wish the person well (though in other instances I could give a shit [in that I felt showing up would be a empty gesture as we hadn't worked together very long, etc. etc.], and it feels like the sort of thing best personified by the cake scene in Office Space), but that usually it costs me both time and money to have lunch at a huge table where everyone you work with is spread out and you find your niche and talk with the people talk with, who may or may not be the person who is going away. I ended up at a table with some friends, and that was cool, but I felt sort of bad because it kinda defeated the purpose. I guess, though, the purpose is showing that the majority of your coworkers who are available will sit next to you and think of you fondly. Like class pictures, I guess.

At the drinks setting it was fun, but I had spent the whole week essentially working and sleeping for the last couple days, and with the Tylennol PM I used a coupletimes that week (sore throat, congestion) by the time I got there I couldn't drink because I wouldn't want to drive after, too dangerous sounding, and of course, I'd have to come home to the wife, who was already annoyed I'd had such long days lately.

We got into a tif the other day. I caught her smoking. I didn't really say anything, and she was ashamed, but it pissed me off, and that sort of tension takes a while to disipate. So I'm a little annoyed and then later - when I'm mostly over it - the wife gets mad at me because I called her my Finnish Princess. "That's racist." "Being Finnish is a race?" "Would you call me your African Princess? Your Jewish Princess? Your Chinese Princess?" "No, because you aren't." "So you don't see how that could be offensive?" "Aili, are you fucking with me? I can't tell sometimes." "What do you think?" "I think I need to take your clothes off and have my way with you." "You think too much." "Too much... or not enough?"

Quick question

Is there a heirarchy of huffing? Do rubber cement huffers look down on spray paint huffers? Is the gasoline huff a cleaner high? The world wants to know. Or, that is to say, I do.

I just heard my neighbors fucking

I went outside to make a phone call, and then enjoy a cigar, and stood on the porch of our common area. The walls on this place seem thick enough, but the doors are not entirely sealed, so sound from the hallways can be monitored (our two bedroom has a master room [the second bedroom] and a bedroom bedroom, which has the most distance from the door, though it does have windows, and I've wondered on hot eve's if Aili and I have been heard). The building is quaint but the space is nice. I've always assumed that if people with one bedrooms and studios were fucking, eventually I would be in a postion to hear someone get their coitus on.

Well tonight was the night. As I read through The New Biographical Dictionary of film, I could hear the neighbors playing Green Day. As "Welcome to Paradise" kicked in, I heard arhythmic moaning. "Yup, that's fucking" I thought. But much like the "finding someone else's panties in our laundry moment," my amusement ended quickly. In some way it sort of makes me not want to have sex with the wife tonight. I think though my mood will change depending on what she's wearing to bed. I've become enraptured with my wife's flesh right under her belly, where I guess my kid is growing, but there's just something sexy about that area, and why belly shirts are so popular.

Aili and I are not drinking. I have mentioned that before, but it's weird. I've never been someone who likes to quit things, because it almost intonates a problem. But it's 11 and I kind of want a drink, but I'm not going to have one. And I hope I don't have that feeling tomorrow, but I might. And it's not that I have a problem (isn't that what they all say), but habits are addicting because routine is soothing. But also because of this break, I felt like I could treat myself last night, and woke up with a pounding headache. I binged, or I had as much as I might normally on a Saturday night, but it felt different. I feel very uncomfortable with the whole process, but mostly for what it says about me. I think the big war is that I don't think it's a problem, so it's hard for me to stop myself. The imaginary rule factor, which makes the thing become covetable. So 100% gay.

Three things would make me post more

1) working less and/or working nearer to my computer all day. Or that is to say, if I was sitting at a desk at least 50% of the time, I'd post about bullshit 100% of the time. SCIENCE!

2) having less good movies to watch when I get home. That also includes TV. Like Sports Night. And Battlestar Galatica. Today I got Brokeback Mountain and Quick Change, which goes on the stack with King Kong '05 (which I'm not crazy about, but I wanted to give it a second chance) and about ten other titles, and then stuff I have to review, like the three versions of Arkadin. Where the fuck do I start?
and

3) If I wasn't so seriously gay for my wife. You know that feeling you get when you talk to someone and you realize that you're crazy about them and that you can't remember what you were talking about? Generally this happens early on in a relationship and fades. But I get to have sex with that person. We've been getting stuff in order for Aili's brother, on top of my hectic sched, which has been gruelling, overlapped with losing an hour to Daylight Savings Time plus a newfound sobriety that points out that I have been a causal drinker for almost ten years now. Crazy. But the sex helps salve the wound, as it were.

Negative attention is still attention, right?

Half the problems with the internet stem from people who learned this. Also this sentence could be rephrased and still be true if you change "the internet" to "my ex-girlfriends."

Sometimes I have too much empathy

My mom told me a story yesterday that I can't shake. We were talking about our childhood neighbors, and the father who died of AIDS in the 80's (a story I recounted here) and it took on the subject of homosexuality, and how a man could live with a woman and know he was gay. My mom is friends with a gay couple on the East Coast and she recounted how one of them told her of his first homosexual experience, which was when his father asked him to perform fellatio. When he was 10. And then my mom added the capper by telling me that he said "He liked it." Blowing his dad. Liked it.

Stories like that get under my skin, perhaps because all evidence points to sexuality being more malleable than most give it credit for. Perhaps sexual preferences (like fetishes) are something we get in youth and are never able to abandon, as our earliest sexual experiences are the most resonant. And it's interesting because I've had many female friends tell tales of Sapphic trysts that occurred simply out of a boredom mixed with drug use. Many of whom are straightish these days. But men tend not to be as bisexual - but I think most because of the stigma attached. I've known some bisexual men, but they tend to be more hedonistic than bi-curious.

All of which makes me happy to married (until the wheels fall off, I guess), as my biggest problem as a dater is that I find it hard to close. I tend to fuck up the closing. I've had male friends (and in one instance a complete stranger) tell me that a girl was interested and I was halfway oblivious. I like to flirt outrageously and do nothing about it. Maybe because sex and relationships are messy, and I prefer the simplicity of an event. Dunno.

I shouldn't add this, but whatever, I got off work early tonight and Aili is getting home shortly. She expressly told me that she is H-O-R-N-Y, so that's rather good news... as long as she doesn't want to do it in the bed my mom slept in.

The entry God has been waiting for

Seriously, he called was like "Dude, you should post. Even if it's our conversation. I don't care. POST, BITCH!"

- Just as God's son did, I think the time in the world will be divided between pre-Snakes on a Plane release and post-Snakes on Plane release. It's like those six months between Kill Bill volumes. SoaP can still be anything you want it to be. And there will come a time when we will know what it is. And that will be sad. But there you are.

- Am I black or white, am I straight, or gay? Controversy.

- Munich may be the anti-Untouchables. It's definitely Spielberg in De Palma territory, and he used a fashionable playwright to fashion the script. But in this case it's the anti because it's Spielberg working against his instincts to create a film that's not for the crowd (which is makes it more De Palmaeranian because Mr. Brian De P was working within the Hollywood structure). In the end both films come to the exact opposite conclusions. Just a thought.

- My favorite Valentine's day story is this. About five years ago, my then girlfriend got us a reservation at a Bed and Breakfast. Either I worked half a day, or took it off, and we planned to head over around 3 pm. Before I could leave my house I got a call from my friend Jen to tell me that our mutual friend (Explicative deleted) was threatening to kill himself. My girlfriend was rather amazing in this instance and I went immediately to The Space Room, where he was. A couple of his friends gathered, he told all of us that he was ready to die, and how unhappy he was. I think we were all there to give emotional support, but I was more curious than anything. I believe in the right to suicide, though I tend to think it's a stupid, stupid move. But (Explicative deleted) was depressed. He couldn't hold a job, got fired from the position that gave him priveledge and quite a bit of tail, and had probably been drinking heavily for the last five to ten years of his life, with the not so occasional booster of coke and pot, and many other substances ([Explicative deleted] caused me to be three hours late for work once due to taking a blue pill he gave me after a night of hard drinking, while on another instance after a night out with him I went into work still reeking of whiskey. Granted, these were my decisions - but that's the sort of devil he was). After a couple of hours trying to bring him down, Jen laid down the science: (Explicative deleted) had two choices, either he was going to go to a hospital willingly to detox, or she was going to call the cops and get thrown into detox. Hearing this, (Explicative deleted) freaked and told us all that that wasn't going to happen. When assured it would happen he grabbed the nearest glass, broke it on the table and tried to slit his wrists in front of us. We restrained him until the cops showed up. Then my gal and I went over to the hospital, and tried to hang out for a bit as things got settled down and he got settled in. Then we went across the street for pizza and some down time (shockingly I don't think anyone had anything to drink at the pizza place). Around nine or ten we left the hospital to go to the bed and breakfast place. It was fabulous. But though we consummated in the nature of such an establishment - if memory serves - it was akin to Eric Bana's pained nutbust in Munich. How could it not be. And I can't not think of this on February 14th.

Happy Valentine's day.

Homo Sexuality

I was thinking yesterday about penguins. And also about how I wonder how much we want the person we're with to be like us. How much taste must they have in common. Shit like that.

I was also driving home and listening to some Joy Division. A song came on, and I had a total recall of the first time I heard the song, when I first started DJing at KWVA in Eugene, Oregon, rocking out from 4-6 am. It was called "The Monty Nesbit Show" and the premise was that I was Damon Houx and that Monty couldn't do his show because he got in trouble for having sex with his girlfriend in the station, so every week I was the fill in. Eventually (towards the end of the term) Monty showed up and bitched me out. Who was one of my neighbors in the dorm. Why I did this to my radio show, I don't know.