The Host/Borat/Mom/Shopping for Illusionary Pussy

I saw The Host. It's now my second favorite movie of the year. It was directed by Bong Joon-ho, who was at the screening. I had this planned with my boys before the wife spit the kid out, and with my mom in town, it was okay that I went. I really enjoyed the movie, but it fucks you up to leave your kid at home after being so attentive for the last couple. It was a relief, but it's still hard to leave behind. The film is coming out in January, and you ahve no excuse not to see it.

Saturday night my mom let us go out for dinner and a movie. Aili wanted to see Borat. It's funny to hear a Finnish girl do a Kazakh accent, but she nails it. Aili also loves it because it makes fun of both Americans and the Eastern Europeans. It's a two-fer. Aili had a glass of wine at dinner, but then stopped herself, thinking about the kid and the milk. That shit's fucked up yo. She still hasn't made up her mind if she's quit smoking or not. Mostly, she's worried about the weight, and most mornings now, now that she's at least a little back to it, she tries to put some time on our exercise bike. We both loved Borat, BTW.

Having Mom here (she's leaving tomorrow) was nice for the break factor. She gave us both some time to not deal with the baby, though we both are very much in the headspace where even though we might want that a little, we can't keep ourselves away. Aili's not due back in the office until mid-January, but she's already doing some things from home. Just cause. Mom got a little testy because we're both so ragged. And then on Saturday, on the way home, I slipped and tweaked my glasses. Right now it's tough, it's so incredibly tough when it comes to money, and we just paid the rent, and though Aili's still salaried for her absence, and I'm working, baby's cost money, and there's so many new expenditures. Though the glasses weren't broken, the thought of both being sightless (my only pair), and having to buy new ones set off panic attacks. Mom sort of helped by saying she'd help, but it's just the way things are. It's so tense because we're starting to build up more and more credit card debt. Part of that is just one time expendatures, but budgeting with children is difficult. And sometimes we're both horrible about getting our son stuff. We find it hard to say no to him. I took the glasses in and they were fixed in an instant, but that was fourteen hours of pure stress.

This morning I took the kid out for some shopping at our local Ralphs. Like most parents, I don't get more than a couple hours sleep in a row, so I took the kid with me this morning and let my wife and mom sleep in a bit. But by the time the two of us were ready to get going, my mom was up and did the normal mom thing by doing some cleaning. I said I'd be back in a bit, and offered to have her join us, but she was happy cleaning our bathroom. Moms be crazy. By the way, I'm finally at about B- level at diaper changing.

Here's the funny thing, it's 9:30, I'm shopping at Ralphs looking mostly like a zombie, but women just can't keep away from a baby. I looked fine, but everyone likes to stop and stare for a minute. Hot thirty-year-old women love my baby. I'm too tired to flirt them up, but it's a weird catch 22. And I get it, they don't want me that much, and the reason why they are so flirty is that babies tend to bring that out, and they know I'm safe, but being all daddy with baby is just sick when it comes to that. But that phermonal sign that I'm a breeder, and that I take care of my own is dangerous shit.

I'm reminded of a time I went out to lunch with the head of a company I worked for with a bunch of my coworkers, and the waitress was flirting with me. After she left that came up though mostly between us, and I said "Oh, you noticed that?" His response was "Well, yeah. I'm alive." Me too, I'm alive too. But I love my wife and life. So there you go.

TiVo in the bedroom

I'm in my work room, and we're going to watch some catch up stuff tonight. South Park, 30 Rock, and The Office here in a minute. We've got the wedding anniversary in a little over a week, and this is my two year Anni for being in Los Angeles. Working from home is a trip, but with the baby and the wife here, and my mom coming in tomorrow it's harder to get work done than I like. I still make it work, and sometimes I'll be cradling my kid at two in the morning and filling out some spread sheets. SWEET. Leonard likes Granddaddy, not so crazy about Arcade Fire, likes BSS okay, and gets on great with Sufjan. Which is good. I haven't exposed the kid to any Rat-A-Tat or Dr. Dre yet. Maybe when the wife isn't around. Post Pregnancy sex is weird. Part physically, part psychologically - Aili's body is functionally different for the time being so things we used to do are different. Then again I've spent much of the marriage having sex with her while she's pregnant. We'll get there. Though also, you know, it's like the baby is always close by. I'm mean it's kind of weird to make out with your wife and gear up and then Baby issues! So if we do do anything we have to wait until the kid has just conked out, and sometimes timing stuff like that is fun, other times it's so totally unerotic that we stop before we start. We're already having the second kid talks. I think we wont make up our mind on that for another couple of months, though. I'm for it, but fiscally, it's going to be a little harder, and there's talk of moving to Portland or possibly elsewhere. It's also going to be a while before Aili can go back with me in tow to Finland, which is difficult in and of itself, or at least it's one of my wife's talking points. My guess is we'll make it through one of the shows (22 minutes, shit) before one of us passes out. That's why they call it TiVo, I guess. Maybe we'll try and fuck. Doubt it. Cause that sounds erotic, don't it?

I have become boring

Though we didn't go out tonight, the baby spent the day in a Tigger baby outfit. I've talked to the wife about it, she knows about the blog but doesn't want to read it, and I've had a no pictures policy in the past, I don't like putting pictures of myself up on the internet, and I sure as shit don't want to put my family up here. But... Leonard ... Is... So... Damn... Cute...

David Cross did a whole routine about how parents get fucking boring. He's kind of right.

United 93 is truly a great film

Best of 2006 (so far):
1) United 93
2) Miami Vice
3) Brick
4) Down in the Valley
5) The Departed
6) Dave Chappelle's Block Party
7) Inside Man
8) Cocaine Cowboys
9) Taledega Nights
10) Monster House

Best movie (period) released in America in 2006:
Army of Shadows

Watching the sups on U93, I'm struck how great this movie is on a moral level. These people died because there is no god. And World Trade Center? That movie is a piece of shit in comparison.

Hooray for narcissism!

That's very much the definition of Wes Anderson's cinema. WA is fascinated with the involved narcissist who learns to sort of accept the outside world a little bit. That may be why I value Bottle Rocket and Royal Tennenbaums over Rushmore and The Life Aquatic. Narcissism breeds narcissism, and Where BR and Rushmore are about the beautiful dreamers, I think TRT at least deals with the grief such painful insulation can cause.

That may be why I find Life Aquatic so troubling - it sacrifices youth for knowledge. Publicly I have bad mouthed such directors as PT Anderson, Robert Rodriguez and Kevin Smith (among that entire generation of filmmakers) because they never seemed to leave their bubbles. Wes strikes me as one of the best, but ultimately these people need to experience more, to understand more to truly become great directors. We'll see how it goes, but Tarantino, for better or worse bests these guys because he knows that "a man's got to know his limitations."

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.

Amoeba/Sympathy Blow Job

Went to Amoeba the other day, such the best store in LA. Or my favorite. Got Modern Romance, a present for my friend Jeremy (alas, baby duties kept me away from his party), and some other things. I got a bag for my discs, and when I touched the bag it was wet. It was an insta whoa, and then I smelled my finger. It was gin. Huzzah! Drunkards ahoy hoy. This amused me to no end.

I feel sorta weird cause I got a pity BJ from the wife. She's not up for fucking. I don't know if I'm totally all "yeah let's get it on!" but as a man with seed, after about a week or so I start getting squirley. And Aili noticed, and though it's been a busy week and a half, and I've been on temporary leave with the J and still working from home, we put the baby to sleep yesterday and Aili whipped my pants off. Aili also went from a B cup to milk filled, so that's sorta fun too. TMI, for sure, but there's something (at least now) kind of thrilling of hoping to get finished before the baby wakes up again. I mean, if this was really TMI I'd talk about breast milk. I mean, sometimes that stuff leaks. Okay, shit, I've tasted it, but suckling (besides stealing from my son) was too enfantlizing. But even playing with them, they can squirt. We've got a pump, but still.

Aili got a three month leave. My mom is coming in a week for four days (on a road trip), and my bro's coming at some point soon. In a couple months I'll be working at home and being the primary care person. Fuck me.

Home again

We're home, crazy week. Tiring. And now we've got the baby. You don't sleep as much, that's for sure. Maybe I'll get to fuck again in a month or two. Maybe I'll get a full night's sleep in a year. Great. Great.

Born to feel the Illinoise

When I was at a wedding a couple weeks back I played for the Bride "After the Curtain" by Beirut. To me that song is the wedding. When my wife started having contractions late last night we drove to Illinois. For some reason Aili wanted a boom box while she was in labor (we were going to induce at the end of the week), and so it was mostly Sufjan Stevens who was to be played as our baby came into the world. I must say I agreed with this idea to no end, and besides, it helped things out for her end. We made an iPod playlist excising stuff like John Wayne Gacy Jr. (and almost exed Casimir Pulaski Day, but I made an appeal that held), threw on some Talking Heads (Naive Melody [This must be the Place] was the big one, Once in a Lifetime though it seemed too cheesed). I got away with a recent addition of Arcade Fire's Rebellion (Lies), some Beirut, some Mathew Sweet, some BSS, and Prince's Erotic City simply to fuck with the nurses (I love my wife that she let me get away with that). We just let it play at random while the contractions got closer and closer.

At 8:27 am on 10/16/2006 (that being a Monday), Aili gave birth to Leonard Evind Houx. As it was it was Vito's Ordination Song that was on when he popped out, here are the lyrics to that song:

I always knew
You
In your mothers arms
I have called your name
I have an idea
Placed in your mind
To be a better man
I've made a crown
For you
Put it in your room
And when the bride groom comes
There will be noise
There will be glad

And a perfect bed

And when you write a poem
I know the words, I know the sounds
Before you write it down,

When you wear your clothes,
I wear them too, I wear your shoes.
And the jacket too

I always knew
you
In your mother’s arms
I have called you son.
I’ve made amends
between
Father and son.

And if you haven’t won
rest in my arms,
sleep in my bed,
there’s a design

(repeat about twenty times):
to what i did and said
rest in my arms,
sleep in my bed,
there’s a design

Jesus, that's making me cry. Even cutting and pasting the lyrics. That song (for better or worse) will now be cemented into my life. I think for better (better than Once in a Lifetime... lucky me).

I'm near my wife, who's asleep right now, working off some wireless. We're both exhausted. Her more than me, obviously. The nurse told me I spent all night trying to keep everyone entertained. I guess I kept checking up on everyone. I've napped off and on during the day, had to run home to get some stuff around noonish when Aili was just passed out. I've spent some brief quality time with our kid.

And writing that sentence, it's just too much right now, it's too overwhelming. I can't type right about it anymore now, sorry. Just, you know, so you know, right now being a father feels pretty fucking awesome. And I'm not using awesome lightly.

Unexpected

There is evidence that I am sexier than other people

Expected: The baby's due in a week. I haven't had a lot of time. Or sleep. There's a lot I haven't covered, The Departed, fucking in the baby's room, cutting in line while we waited for Departed (the short story, my very pregnant wife asked to sit in the lobby and then we got our pick of the seats. I told her I should get her pregnant more often after that, and then she hit me). Etc. etc. More soon.

The Rip Off Artist as Genius

I can call myself among a new generation of film fans and filmmakers to revere BLOW OUT (1981) as a masterpiece. Or, at least, I can claim myself among Pauline Kael, Quentin Tarantino, Collider's Jeremy Smith, and Armond White (among others) who revere this film. Watching the ending, you see the metacommentary (pretty excplicit as it my be) that the artist must take his own personal demons and apply them to their art, even if it tears them up inside. They have to, they must. Whether De Palma was applying those demons or commenting on the artistic process (though likely both) is immaterial, that revelation is one of the greatest in the history of cinema, and may prove that De Palma made more personal films that Scorsese, whose soul may have been in the slightly flat RAGING BULL. Or moreso than Spielberg, whose game keep getting more interesting with each passing year, but reveals a craftsman whose soul only lightly touches his final product. Yep, I'm intoxiated enough with BLOW OUT to suggest that it proves De Palma the best filmmaker of his generation.

The Black Dahlia (2006)

There was a list of films to see this weekend. Jackass Number 2, The Science of Sleep, a De Palma double feature of Blow Out and The Untouchables and The Black Dahlia, which I wanted to catch last weekend, but post-wedding exhaustion nixed. With Sunday wrapping up I made the effort to at least see one of the films, and it was Dahlia, which is the one most likely to disappear quickest. I also watched Edmond (which I liked), Body Double (yay) and Lucky Number Slevin (a guilty pleasure, but functional). But I just got back from BD.

One of the things I love about Hollywood is just that it's Hollywood. I go to the Arclight, and who's watching the movie with me but Peter Dinkage. There you go. As for the film, I have mixed feelings for the moment. As a narrative it is talky, and the mystery elements don't snap... the haunted obsession of Elizabeth Short (played well by Mia Kirshner) seems the backstory to the machinations of boxers/cops Bucky Bleichert (Josh Harnett) and Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart). After a shooting, the two become attached to the Short case out of Lee's insistance, and it becomes something of an overwhelming obsession for Lee, something that is shown but not entirely felt. Bucky starts chasing after a woman named Madeline Linscott (Hilary Swank), who knew Short through a lesbian bar. Bucky and Lee have been friends for a while, and share a relationship with Kay Lake (Scarlet Johansson), but though Kay and Bucky suggest their emotions, Bucky's unwilling to do anything while Lee's in the picture. There's a tale of obsession, betrayal, guilt, all the things that make a great De Palma film, but taken as a whole, and a second viewing might settle some things for me, it's a little too leaden for its own good. I didn't sink into the character's emotional weight, and there's so much going on that I felt like some important emotional beats were left out. I got into the film's lulling rhythms, but waited for the moment of total engagement, which just didn't happen. De Palma can still stage a setpiece, and those sequences popped, but I kept waiting for momentum to kick in. It didn't, though I loved the hoary theatrics of the villian's reveal. But the pieces were there for it to be out of the park, and I just didn't feel it. Still, worth seeing, if only for De Palma's command.

Afterwards I drove down Sunset at sunset. I see why it got the name. Now, I'm back in Burbank. I've been freaking out lately about the kid stuff. I'll tell you, the thing that sort of settled me was making love with the wife in the baby's room. We fell asleep in the middle of the room, and I guess everything was okay. You can worry about the long term, and you should, but sometimes the smart money's on staying with the day to day concerns.

Losing my internet cleverness

Damn it, I'm getting old. I'm married, I'm about to have a kid. I've got a job I do at home now because I want to be around the kid. I have a house. I married off two of my best friends to each other. They're gonna have kids at some point. Our kids will hang out. The map of my life is getting scary. I don't forsee myself getting a divorce, so I'm gonna be fucking one more person for a long time. I think I've tried all the drugs I'm going to try. I'm just freaking out a little bit cause in less than a month, I'm a dad. I guess we'll go abroad at some point in the next two years, but that'll be family related. This was never the person I thought I'd be. But I don't know who that person is. Fuck. Fuck Fuck. This is all just baby freakout shit.

Smoking Wedding Photos

Every part of my body is sore

I was in Portland for the weekend. I spent four days helping get my friends Heather and Scott married. I don't know how I cut my right hand (I think it was a bottle top), I know why my feet hurt (new shoes and new blisters), and I'm just generally sore and cranky. Then again, I got to bed at 3:30 last night and woke up still drunk for a morning flight, which - considering the amount of alcohol that was in my system for the last couple days - shouldn't be a surprise.

I got in on Wednesday and went to the bachelorette party. Oh yeah. I forgot to mention. I was the maid of honor. The wife was going to come, but seeing as how she's eight months pregnant she decided to skip it. I felt bad, but she had come out a couple months back. So I was to chaperone the party solo (though I wouldn't have wanted the wife to go... it'd be so bad if everyone else was getting plowed and she had to smile politely). The party consisted of going to two gay bars, the first a more mellow gay themed restaurant, the second the kind that was showing pornos on the TV's around us. I thought I would be surround by ten drunk women celebrating Heathz, but there were only four ladies, a gay man, and myself, and every single person was in a relationship. Still, you get a man drunk and all flirty, and he's happy his wife's out of town.

Thursday some of Scott's friends had arrived so we did the bachelor party. Again, two places, the first for food, the second for booze. I got to spend a lot of time with Scott's bro Joe, and I'd say we became fast friends. Friday was the rehearsal and then the dinner. If it isn't abundantly clear, I got plowed every single night. Totally enjoyed it, but I am not drinking again until the baby pops. There were numerous jokes about whether Joe and I should hold hands during the ceremony.

Saturday was the wedding. It was awesome. I got to give a toast and didn't cry, which I felt like I should have as the maid of honor. It was more fun than anything ever should be. Their gift to the groomsmen were monogrammed flasks, so I loaded Joe and I up with some Glenfiddich, and we kept passing shots to both the bride and groom - Dutch courage saves the day! But the main thing is that I love Scott and Heather very much, and them getting married (of which it has been said I was the conduit... Though that's mostly by me) is just about the greatest thing ever.

I guess I could write some other stuff about the wedding ceremony, about how for the wedding pictures I insisted I lay in yearbook pose, but Scott and Heather and two of my readers, and I just wanted to toast them again, for their friendship and for giving me the honor of being a part of the ceremony and their lives.

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.

Systems/Go

With the baby weeks away, I've got a new from home job as an analyst. Things I've analyzed (or analysed for my British readers):

BRUCE IS THE GAYEST NAME THAT ISN'T 100% GAY: Like, I guess if your name was Iamamanwhohassexwithothermen, that would be very homosexual, but there's only two people with that name in the whole world, and like a boy named Sue, they're both very angry heterosexual people. Ironically, they've both ended up in jail.

WHEN IT COMES TO RAPE-BASED HUMOR, SIZE MATTERS: Who doesn't love jokes about rape? Nothing's funnier then men being raped by monkeys, dogs being raped by chickens, or the man in the moon taking his discretions with Jupiter's rings. What we discovered is that size really does matter.

Take for instance, man on bear rape. No matter the goofy expressions, a grown man raping a koala bear just isn't that funny, no matter how much the ears act up. Same goes for a Panda bear. But if a man rapes a polar bear... Comedy. Grizzly bear? Hilarious. The bears can react or not react, doesn't matter. Conversely, a man getting raped by a polar bear is disturbing and gross. Grizzly man meat? See my point? But a dude getting raped by a panda bear is high comedy.

This rule basically applies to all rape jokes. A nucleotide raping a cockroach is chuckleworthy. But a alligator raping a parrot just doesn't cut the mustard.

What I did with my Summer Vacation

Eric Rohmer
Akira Kurosawa

Yeah, I love the heavy hitters. And I've learned a lot about life.

So pregnant

Do you guys really want to hear about how my wife is getting rather pregnant? I've had a bunch of social engagements lately, and been able to take the wife to half of them. She was bad about it a month ago, but she knows. Then again, it's all about the game. The game of love. I've been watching the Rohmer box set and it's great. But I swears to god, I'll post more soon. When I don't have to deal with a pregnant wife, a kid, a job, and scripts to write.

ergh

I'm watching Amazing Stories Disc One and the Spielberg directed GHOST TRAIN. Which is the worst thing I've seen him direct. Ever. Compared to THE MAIN ATTRACTION, which is great. I'm worried about GATHER YE ACORNS, which freaked me out as a kid. Mark Hamill plays a guy who hangs on to all his toys, and is given all his dreams when he's, like 80. That shit scared me something fierce back then. The biggest problems with these is that most of them aren't geared towards the 30 minute structure and feel uneven.

The move is pretty much done at this point. Thanks for all the friends who helped, you literally saved my life. Next time we move, next time I'm not going to do it in the middle of an LA summer. Or go to Portland the weekend or two before. Still, we're so far along with this pregnancy thing that I'm going to have to make an effort to blog more. Find some hidden time.

"That Just Happened!"

Things are going fine, I guess. Aili has got a good glow. I won't be a pussy and talk about how I cried when I felt my son kick, but I did. So, to measure that out, pregnant fucking is awesome.