Rants

Florence for a few.

May 20, 2013

Our train arrived in Florence and I decided that having little idea of our destination was no obstacle to finding it. Surely, the apartment would be somewhere in the vicinity of… you know… Florence. We dragged our bags over the cobblestones, weaving in and out of crowds around the totally magnificent Duomo and photobombing families in the make-me-cry Piazza della Signoria. Just a moment for a question. Is it wrong to admit that I lost all patience for tourists? Yes, I toured. Yes, I also took pictures. But no, I didn’t freeze a la Pieta in the middle of...

And then? Vernazza.

May 14, 2013

Vernazza is very nice. Very nice Vernazza. The best way I can describe Vernazza is to say that Vernazza continues to exist despite its perfection. Or because of it? In October 2011, this thousand year-old town was largely buried by four meters of mud and debris that slipped down the mountain after torrential rains. Only eighteen months later, the town has reclaimed its luster. It truly sparkles. Colorful old homes are clean again and the town piazzas have been rebuilt at both ends of the car-free town. Still, all you need to do is look up to see the grey...

36 hours in… oh, bloody hell.

May 4, 2013

London was angled, dirty walls and persistent commuting. The skin of women was like plaster cracking off ancient buildings. Frightening accents turned up to eleven on the train to match the roar of the Tube. I thought of crows, but not the pretty flutter of feathers or intelligence. I believe the Tube map is a modern attempt to oust Virgil as lead navigator of hell. Finally setting foot above ground, we found Trafalgar Square. Competing packs of kids, like ill-informed goats, tried to conquer the lions perched beneath whatever the first of many commemorative roundabout phalluses. Phalli? I read...

Hello Venice Beach! I still miss you.

April 22, 2013

It’s been almost a month but I still smell the pot smoke on the ocean breeze. I can’t remember liking a place more. Seriously. Is this place in Los Angeles County? It should consider seceding and starting its own republic. Visas required of all dickheads who don’t get just how perfectly idiosyncratic it is. While riding a cruiser down Main Street, I stopped for a red light. I noticed a car behind me wanting to turn right on the red. I inched up into the crosswalk to give room. The driver rolled down his window to thank me. Then...

To the nameless guy in the hat

April 3, 2013

You are the worst airbnb guest I have ever encountered. You are the only airbnb guest I didn’t like. Congratulations and please don’t come again. I understand that you may not know any better but I refuse to blame your mother. You know why? You’re over 35. But in case no one has ever bothered to instruct you on some etiquette, here you go. When you came to us as a guest, you seemed to forget that houses provide homes. Our house, in particular, is the place we call home. Sure, you paid to stay. But you didn’t pay...

Endless summer

March 26, 2013

In the old days, I used to think the perpetual shine of San Diego’s sun made everyone dumb. I was that kid. The one huddled in the shade, under a hat, with gloves on. Maybe a veil. Reading some Russian author and dreaming of the tundra. Shut up about it, okay? I never threw myself onto train tracks. Besides, it may not have made me popular, but my skin is sort of healthy and I got Dostoevsky out of the way. Since then, I’ve lived in lots of places where the sun shines only infrequently and weakly, from low...

Pretending it ain’t art

February 27, 2013

You know what I want these days? A whole new something. Revolution-lite, maybe. Or just a bit of requited ambition. Maybe this is why the sad treatment of the VFX artists at Rhythm & Hues, and the VFX industry in general, is plucking my heartstrings. It could also be that my favorite person in the world is a part of that industry and I watch him daily working his ass off, and nightly, mumbling in his sleep about things he didn’t get quite right during the day. For example, this dream chatter, in particular, is probably funnier to me...

Question Time at Parliament! Who can make the most noise?

February 14, 2013

Whenever the House sits, which is generally a few times per week, no more than three weeks per year, the Members warm themselves up with a bit of Question Time. Question Time! Everyone get to your seats! Oh man, I really wanted to sit next to someone just a little dirty and really crazy in a funny hat. Someone who would speak out of line and show unbridled ire for a random government official. I mean, that’s how it’s done where I’m from. Alas, this is not San Francisco and despite the liberal dress code enforced on visitors to...

GABA, the date rape drug my mom sends me

February 7, 2013

Aw shucks. My international drug-smuggling gambit has come to an end with the receipt of a letter from Mr. Alan Hall, Chief Customs Officer of the New Zealand Customs Service. Mr. Hall informs me that Customs has seized and destroyed a couple containers of a product called Relax Max. Mmm, relax. To the max. It takes like cherry Kool-aid and it helps me sleep when my brain is overwhelmed by the chaos that roosts in, well, my mind. It’s a brain versus mind battle around here. Often. Anyhoooo. Mr. Hall says my cherry drink has GABA in it. Gamma...

Fifteen minutes of Parliamentary P-funk

February 7, 2013

Ladies and Germs: I went to Parliament. It was not exactly funkadelic. It was something more like… well, the staid conventions of your average government houses. Some marble floors, some false marble walls, an exceptional landscape of green carpet in the House and a few sheepskin chair covers for those members who can feel the pea beneath them, no matter what. In the spirit of parliamentary funk, however, I will acknowledge that New Zealand’s Beehive could serve satisfactorily as one of Bootsy Collins’s hats. Full disclosure: it was my plan to watch a bunch of people in suits bitch...

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