Simon Pegg's background dance makes me laugh like nothing else.

I'm an asshole

Everyone, everyone, deals with grief differently.

That said, I worry that we as a society are too often coddling in our attitude towards death, but the world has changed so much over the last hundred years. Man doesn't have much a of the same relationship towards death as it had to have not but a century ago.

Part of this is based on backgrounds and belief systems. As someone with rather agnostic to atheistic bent, I have come to some sort of peace with this being all there is. Plus, with my father as sick as he is, I've come to peace with my family dying. But when a friend was suggesting that he was sad his father died when he was in his fifties, and that his grief over the loss was still palpable, I had to bite my tongue.

I remember talking about it, almost a decade ago, about my father's illness to David Walker and he told me how his dad was dead by the time he was three, if my memory serves. His response was that I was lucky for the time I had. I don't know if that can make anything better, but everyone has different griefs for different reasons, but there's always someone with a hard luck story that is worse than yours. My attitude is amsot aggressively zen about it, though. PErhaps that's my way of dealing with it.

The world is bigger than you, Damon.

Then again, I read something about someone who died today at the age of 31 and it made me happy that I was married because if I die, someone will at least find me within 24 hours.

E.D.

So this weekend, we had a date night. We went out for dinner and then some dancing. The funny thing about date night as adults with a baby, we had to have sex beforehand. Cause we knew we'd be out late, so when the babysitter sets the time limit at 1:30 a.m., that could not be avoided. And so beforehand after dropping Lee off at our neighbor's house at about seven (they love taking him, but we don't ask but once every two months or so, they're older and have kids out of the house so I think they think it's fun) we headed back to "get dressed." The wife will sometimes say stuff like that laying the "we're going to go fuck" intimation on a little thick. I prefer just bald face lying.

But now I'm on new meds, and these have side effects that were heretofore unknown, cause we haven't been fucking as much cause of the depression. And the wife was horny. I could take care of some of that, but when it came to my turn, as it were, a lot of flopping around. But, to give this story a half-happy ending, with patience you can get off without getting fully erect. Who knew? Today I got the next set of meds to try. Fortunately I was at least able to make jokes about it, though some, admittedly, hit close to home. "Great, another thing to get depressed about." Depression is supposedly clinical. I don't know if I believe it.But these last meds, other than working like Salt peter, did repress some of these nasty thoughts I've been having. And... man, I was sleeping fucking great. But I like having boners, so out they go. So sorry. Ive got to detox these last ones, and start the new ones this weekend. AWESOME.

The dancing was fun though, once I got my groove back. As a couple Aili and I have this weird mixture of feelings. We still want to do things like this because we feel it is appropriate. And yet we have a kid. It's weird being out. I was able to watch a dozen interactions. I kept my wife abreast of what I was tracking, when we weren't having drinks (me water, it was her night to cut loose, as it were, though I did have one beer, and a sip of her apple martini). I had Salmon. I'm trying to eat more fish. Ive been exercising more and trying to eat better. But around ten we hit the dance floor,and stuff slowly started to happen. You've got the drunk boys, the girls with their purses who stand-dance in the middle of the floor (fuck you, by the way), the hipster kids who want to breakdance, the way too inebriated, the group of friends out celebrating something - flashing their flash cameras, and the girls getting drunk and looking to get schtupped....

Which led to this conversation on the drive home:
- You saw that she went for the black guy.
- I know! Is that racist?
- On whose part?
- Me saying "I know!" Well, I saw one guy who hit on her and missed, and another guy she was kinda making eyes at and bumping into.
- She wanted to fuck him.
- You think?
- A girl doesn't accidentally bump into a guy four or five times, no matter how drunk. She was also doing the "I'm dancing like a lesb with my other straight femme friend" thing.
- Aili, tell me you never did that.
- Once or twice. When I was younger.
- Look, I hate fashionable lesbianism. I just do. Just as I hate Girls Gone Wild. And, is it Brandon Davis? I hate him.
- You would totally have a three-way with me and a hot chick.
- That's dif... No. Actually, no. I love you too much.
- Aw.
- Why, would you?
- No.
- I mean I guess you could make it work, it might be fun, or whatever. But no interest.
- Well, I suggest we never talk about this again.
- Fair enough.
- Besides, it's not like my...
- Look, Damon, please, stop joking about it.
- I'm sorry, I'm just trying to deal with the fact that my junk isn't working properly.
- If its me...
- No, the doc said this might be a side effect, so, he was right. Fuck me in a week, I swear, I'll be raring to go.

And on and on. Some real pathos up in this bitch. Hopefully by Saturday, my junk will be back in working order, and I won't worry about all the things that I've been stressing on lately.

Reviewin'

Army of Shadows: The Criterion Collection
La Haine: The Criterion Collection
The Hitcher (2007)
The Painted Veil

How I know the meds don't work

Last night I couldn't sleep well. I had a dental appointment yesterday, my first in four years. I had a filling fall out a couple months ago, but the months since have been so insanely tight - especially with our emergency trip abroad - and even though we're insured I pushed it off. Also, I was fucking frightened of what horrors my mouth had in store for the dentist. I tried sleeping for a while, got up to write a blog entry and tried again to crash out. Aili was fucking pissed at four, cause it's not like we sleep normally anyway. I told I could sleep on the couch, but that got her even more annoyed. It was cute annoyed. If we didn't have the kid with us, we probably would have fucked. But we were both too tired. And she got to go in late to work so I could go to my appointment. So I go to the dentist, and when I get there I'm practically shaking with nerves. They take 32 X-rays - which did nothing to calm me down - and then I finally get to see the dentist. We look through the pics of my teeth, she inspects my mouth, and there's only one problem - the missing filling. She advises I get a crown, which will cost $275. I think instead I'll go with a filling, even though it won't last as long, simply because the expenditure on our end will only be $40. But hearing all this, my stress levels dropped immediately. Then I got home, the wife took off, and about an hour later, an entirely new paranoia and guilt bumped up the list in my head.

It's like my mind's not happy if I don't feel bad about something right now. Maybe I just wasn't ready to be a father, I don't know. Lee's ready to go back to sleep, so night y'all.

Take a Hike

Ive been taking long walks with Lee during the weekdays, but the wife and I returned to my old stomping grounds in Hollywood to walk around the Bronson Canyon on Saturday. This is all a part of my lame ass fitness plan, though most of the walk is uphill. After our two and a half hour jaunt, yesterday I was planning on taking another long hike, but found that I literally could not. My legs would not allow it. The more I hike, the more I'm getting into the burn factor. And it's fucking me up. You grow to like the pain, cause it makes you feel better about yourself.Hopefully I'll be able to swing over that way tomorrow.

Dealing with bad Juju

When I get too much coffee, I get depressed. Generally, when that happens I reflect on every single stupid thing I've done and been called out on. As an outgoing personality I know that I rub some people the wrong way, but as a writer I try to understand and intuit other people's emotions, rightly or wrongly. Though I don't think I have a lot of things in that closet, the ones that bug me have bugged me forever. I remember cracking wise to a teacher about some Jewish holiday when I was in sixth grade, something along the lines of "Do I look Jewish?" And then proceeded to highlight the stereotypes of Jewish people. And she was - of course - Jewish. The funny thing is, I'm not a racist, and I don't know where those stereotypes came from - perhaps from television or a comedian, or perhaps (but doubtful) my father, who wasn't so much a racist as a salesman, and enjoyed lowbrow humor that could revolve around stereotypes. And there are worse things, things that I wish I could apologize for, things that were simple misunderstandings that had less than pleasant outcomes. I hope there's only two or three people in the world who actively hate me. Hopefully less, but I've tried not to fuck anyone over. I have no problems though with people who just don't like me. I think that's fine. Cause vice versa, you know.

But I just watched two movies that made me think about those things. Deliver Us From Evil and Spider-Man 3. In the former there's a priest who has molested approximately 500 kids. And he's all like "Yeah, I'm sorry, can't we move on?" while the victims and their families are still in the grieving process 30 years on. And, of course, SM 3 is about the weight of responsibility and guilt, and it's also not a very good film.

But it strikes me that there are some things that are so bad that - after you've done them - you have to accept, because you have to live with yourself, you just have to disconnect, you have to lose part of your mind. The priest has come to peace with whatever demons he has, because he is who he is. It's all about defining your reality so you can live with yourself. So I feel like you have to hold on to those bad feelings of when you've made social faux-passes, you have to remember how much it hurt to burn your hand on the stove. I've been hurt by other people, but it's always when I'm the one doing the bad thing that sticks with me. I don't give too much of a shit out being hurt in probably the same way I obsess over, then again, I'm a straight white male. And there's nothing very evil in my past, nothing worth going to jail over, but I still have some weight on me. But I think that's part of what makes me a moral person. Or helps me be one. There is a circuitous logic to this, though. I probably feel this way because I have to. Because it's the only way I can live with myself.


This also makes me think that if these two movies can make me think about this, it's time to move on to the next anti-D. I've been told there's a trial and error process.

imokayimokayimokayimokayimokayimokayimokayimokay

Well, we talked about it, and so now I can put it on here. As the primary care giver for Lee, I've been home all the time, and for the last couple of weeks it just gotten to be really depressing. Not just stir crazy, though that was definitely a factor too. So today we went to see a therapist and I'm now on anti depressants. Just for the next couple. The main thing is that the way I was raised there was always a level of autonomy. Now, with a kid, I feel so locked into my life. It's a good and bad thing. But I have been wigging out lately, and so here I am. On drugs.

Reviews for the last couple...

Worth the Time:
The Butcher Boy
Fires on the Plain: The Criterion Collection
Infamous

Rather okay:
Billy Budd
The Burmese Harp: The Criterion Collection
The Charge of the Light Brigade
The Dawn Patrol (1938)
Dive Bomber
Madame Bovary

Eh:
The Journalist and the Jihadi: The Murder of Daniel Pearl
S*P*Y*S
Tom Goes to the Mayor: The Complete Series
Van Wilder 2: The Rise of Taj

Hate:
Alexander Revisited: The Final Cut
Bottom Feeder
Eragon: Special Edition
Turistas

OfF Duty Tonight!

Got to hang with friend tonight. We got drunk. I got home, drunk, and the wife doesn't want to fuck. What am I going to do. I didn't drive. Very nice. Will need to sleep it off tonight. Off baby duty for the next twelve hours. Will have to sober up by then. Watching The Wire. J stuff from the last shortly.

Question

Has Quentin Tarantino made a film that has felt 9/11? I don't know if that matters, though. What's more interesting is that Martin Scorsese has not.

2+1-1 Stories of awesome

My brother told me a story a long time ago about how someone, when he went to Middle School, showed up for the first day of class dressed as a Ghostbuster. My brother then saw him a couple years alter, and all he could think of to say is "What's up, Ghostbuster!" Cause that guy never was any more or less than that embarrassing incident.

Which makes me think that in my Freshman year of High School, I had an I KILLED LAURA PALMER shirt, to which a senior later made a shirt that read I KILLED DAMON HOUX. Which may have been my Ghostbusters moment.

My brother said to me the other day that I can get away with hugging someone I don't know, and it's funny because that's something I've done for comedic effect more than once (when I was in London I hugged Edgar Wright... for jokes, mostly). And I realized recently that because of who I am, if I just showed up some place with a bunch of friends dressed as a Ghostbuster, I think people would be cool with it. They'd roll, they'd think I was just being a dick. Which is good and bad.

Writing about Kurt Vonnegut

I feel like everybody's doing this, but I will be short and sweet. He was a great writer, and a great man. Even his lesser novels offered something of worth. But I can't get away from his experiences in Dresden, which informed his writing to its core, much like it did for Sam Fuller.

Few artistic ideas have hit me as hard as Kilgore Trout, in the midst of Breakfast of Champions, realizing that he was just smart enough to realize he was fictional.

The Burbank Blur

I wish I could have you there when I'm taking care of Lee. It's fucking sick. I don't update so much lately. Sorry. Being there with my child is insane.

I'm getting divorced?

Psyche!

It's so hard... to say Goodbye... to Yesterday.

Though it was there Friday night, by Saturday afternoon it was gone, and has not been sighted since. It was a good run, though, almost a full week. And now I'm left with all the memories. If only I had a collection of images to run under a music montage to help me deal with the grief. If only I had more contest entries. Alas. I can dream can't I?


Baby stuff. Keeps you busy. Also I had a huge freak-out last week, just emotionally fragile and all that, paranoia, the worst of it. And then I realized it was because I cut out the caffeine in my life. Again. I had some tea last night, but otherwise, it's been a week of no diet Pepsi. And it's going well, all things.

This shit is boring me. Fucking. Like, lots of it.

Day 3 of Dildo on Day Four

A real rain came yesterday, but it didn't wash the real trash from the streets. Sad. In the greatest way possible.

The Dildo is still there!

BREAKING NEWS!

It is still in the street. Earlier I though it was gone, but it must have been parked over. That, or someone gave it a test run and decided it wasn't to their liking. Or it went for a walk. Really, the possibilities are endless. I tried to take a picture of it, but it was too dark. Day 3 pictures tomorrow if it is still there. Which, fingers crossed, it will be.

This is the greatest thing in the history of the world. The Greatest.

And please, work on your essays/stories/poems/songs/artwork.

Dildo-Gate: Day 2 - The Wife's Reaction

"Jesus, Damon, it's a sex toy. It's not like we don't have any!"
- Aili Houx 3/18/07 4:52 PM

My wife is not as thoroughly amused by this as I am. Then again, emotionally I'm twelve, so it all works out. There were two girls (one smoking) nearby when I spotted it. I wanted to mention it to them, but I had to fight that part of my mind. Still. Here, for you I share. The Dildo.

Entry #1 (with apologies to wcw)

The Black Dildo

so much depends
upon

a black
dildo

flecked with
sand

in an L.A.
gutter