.: culture : mash :.

No one does a better parody of middle America evangelism than the Arcade Fire. Well actually, maybe Stephen Colbert does, but we’re not counting him here.

I got to see this fine band with my friend Christian a few nights ago, and we both were impressed with their insane sound and stage presence. It was for their recent album, Neon Bible … which I must say I got impressed with quite surprisingly.

Only the French Canadians would be bold enough to make fun of the iconic fundamentalist view on religion that can come out of the American bible belt. It made me in awe to see them show footage from a female evangelist in the opening moments of the show, which show her discussing God mixed in with dialog regarding getting an enema.

These photos just gives you a sense of their set up on stage. (Though it’s not actually at the Greek - because Leylabot couldn’t afford the expensive pit tickets required to take those nice pictures).

My father has been in Iran for over one week now. Why does this phase me ? He hasn’t been there for over 23 years since my family sought political asylum in the United States back in the eighties.

He called me the other night, and while I knew in theory things ought to be fine regardless, the nerves in the back of my neck finally found a slight amount of comfort to hear his voice.

What’s funny to me, is that while I was raised speaking Farsi , years later, despite my father’s heritage and upbringing in our native tongue, and his constant insistance that I learn how to read and write in our mother tongue, he always speaks to me in English. His English is proper, with all the grammar as how it should be, but there is in his voice that comforting accent I’ve been raised with.

Dad, are you alright? Did you need me to get you anything?

Yes Leyla-jahn, I’m ok. You aunt has taken care of me quite well.

Dad, are you alright otherwise? Is it incredibly strange? I mean, it’s been over 20 years.

It’s a whole lot different Leyla. It’s a different Iran. The air smells of gasoline and the streets are packed with twice the population of people since I last remember. I want to come home soon, I want to be home in LA.

Home. It’s a strange word when you think of it. Aren’t we a weird, nomadic type species? I mean, if we trace things back ancestrally, I really doubt people stayed in the same cave for much longer than they needed to. We have homes where we sleep, but are they really what we find the most comforting place? How and when do we call the place where we rest our heads the place where we rest our souls?

A piece by Arash Tirgari.

My good pal Spencer recently got married. This meant I was trekking out to beautiful St. Louis, Missouri for the ceremony and reception. Spencer and I met a few years back when he was passing through LA as an intern for my company. He, myself, and another friend made an instant bond capitalizing on the sense of cynicism and sarcasm we all seemed to produce so fruitfully.

I pretend to admire a lot about Spencer, but one main thing has to be his constant courage in moving to new cities. Perhaps I really do envy this about him, but I’ve always been attached to the LA area since I moved here at age 10. This guy on the other hand has lived in: St. Louis, Denver, Bournemouth (UK), Los Angeles, San Francisco, and currently New York. This past weekend, I got to be the guest in his town, and meet his friends. Yes, it was delightful. And yes, it was a culture shock to experience the Mid West a la St. Louis flavor.

Immediately, when you leave LA, you’re surprised to hear that all the people you talk to , have absolutely NOTHING to do with entertainment and Hollywood. Here are some of the snapshots that can display lessons I’ve learned over my trip.

All Catholic churches look the same. Orthodox, Roman, Scientologist. Gold mosaic and lots of crosses, good stuff.

Buying a home in St. Louis requires cashing out some of your parents’ CDs, and then you’re good to go. Oh and I pay more than double their mortgage in RENT.

If capable, men will always fake attendance at the dinner table, in order to get more food.

You never want to order a bucket of Coors (even if on special) in front of St. Louis natives. This is the land of BUD.

Spencer, apparently, has little to no filter on friends in his life, and I know this since I got to spend a full day with all of them without his presence.

Apparently, good people attract good people ;).

Congratulations Gayborg, your dearest LA gal — Gayla.

Ok , just a couple of quickie things since I’m about to head out to St. Louis, Missouri to a friend’s wedding.

Today I went to get my eyebrows threaded at Vinita’s in Westwood. And I need to mention the following things:

• So stoked I’m not one of those super fuzzy Purrsians. Really, I feel BAD for some of those whole face chicks.
• I don’t like skinny porn brows ok? Call me old fashioned, call me Brooke Shields, but I like a little girth to my eyebrows so I look normal and not plastic.
• Not every girl in LA needs a freakin’ bedazzled Side Kick. Trust me, your lame gossip about how he got laid after the Biology midterm can wait a few until you get home. No need to IM him NOW.

Also, the other night I hosted an event for my work, a Houdini Technical Evening around dynamics. Absolutely lost? Then this won’t help you much either.

But look, pictures! Can you see the girl/guy ratio I get at work?

Mark shows an RBD test in Houdini 9

Apparently, lame nerd talk draws a crowd.

So many Houdini nerds packed into one place

I’ve been wanting to get a place lately. I don’t know if it’s this whole thing about wanting to start anew, with my living situation ending soon, or if it’s because I’m just getting that age. In my younger years, buying a house was just as impossible a wish, only then I had something else. Then I had the weird assumption and hope that I would find someone to help me buy a house, and that someone wasn’t going to be my dad. Now it’s an impossible wish because of the financial reality and the reality that I don’t have a partner to go in with.

Today I was visiting with my family for Mother’s Day, and I got to speak with my grandmother a bit. After the whole family raided the food, we all got the afternoon bug to nap, and it was like a weird programing kicked in, and everyone starting passing out in various parts of the living room sleeping.

Now I’m guilty of this too, I napped for about 30 minutes, but soon after I woke up and got a chance to chat with Grandma. Here we were, the only two people awake in the entire house, and she started to tell me old stories, the kind I love to hear.

You know, maybe I’ve heard them all a zillion times, but I like re-listening to them anyhow. Who else in this world has a better perspective than those who’ve grown and seen it all? Having children , having grandchildren, witnessing her motherland fold under her as the Islamic revolution took over her life and pushed her into a brand new one.

I get embarrassed sometimes when I talk to my grandmother, she reminds me often of how juvenile my knowledge of Farsi truly is. But hey, it’s my moment to practice.

“Grandma, do you pray anymore?”

“No…I’ve stopped since a few years ago. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Why? I mean, you used to face Mecca and do the whole bit for Nahmaz. I thought you found it meditative?”

“Leyla-joon, when I realized many years after the revolution, that my country would still be shit because of all that Islam caused, I couldn’t do it anymore. Those imbeciles ruined our country in the name of Mohamed and Allah , why the hell would I celebrate those versions of God?”

Good point Grandma, why would you?

You know, there’s nothing cooler than hearing your Grandmother curse in Farsi and be passionate about it. It might be my favorite thing ever in out frequent family get togethers.

“Leyla-joon, don’t bother yourself about anything but yourself. No religion, no man, no person or thing is as important as you finding your own happiness. There’s no point in worshiping anything blindly, even finding a mate. Make your life as you wish. Do it for yourself.”

I’m ready to find my own place, a place where it’s only about me. Homeownership is not easy, but what else is better for me to focus on right now, in addition to my career. Besides, it’ll be my little Mecca. Only we’ll never have Ramadan … because damn it , I love to eat. I might succeed, I might fail, who knows?

Sometimes, you just gotta walk up to the glass and step through to the other side to see what’s there.

Ever been to Disneyland China?

yeah… neither have these people:

This is apparently Shijingshan Amusement Park , an amusement park in Beijing , China that has no real correlation to Walt Disney whatsoever. Wow, how come Eisner never approved those characters?

Another thing that makes this even more entertaining, is that the Japanese community is going crazy reporting about this. Take a look. Think there’s a little rivalry spark in there? Tokyo Disneyland is the highest grossing theme park for the Walt Disney Corporation of all their parks. That’s a fact I picked up from an Imagineer flying back from Orlando a few years back.

More on this can be found on JapanProbe, where there is also a collection of lovely Japanese reports regarding the huge fake enterprise. What impresses me, is that there are no limitaitons to counterfeiting, even to a monster like Disney for the Chinese.

You know, the funny thing is that I’m the biggest Disney slut there is. I used to own their annual passes, before they got to be as expensive as a car payment. I bought their movies and souvenirs, shit, I even manage their account for work like a little fan boy at a comic store. But … never, could I envision such sacrilege moment as what I witnessed online regarding this park. Characters taking their masks off in front of park attendees?!?!?!

I mean seriously, this video will be giving me nightmares.

I just spent 3 days in Austin, Texas.

My thoughts:

There’s stuff between NY & LA? Weird.

Anyhow, the trip was lovely, and my time with my dear friend who helps moderate this site, mushmoosh, was incredible. He was a great host, especially given his perspective both from similar mutual cultural backgrounds, and because he doesn’t buy into current hypes and trends. But despite all his comparisons to other cities and such, I loved my time in Tay-Haas.

What amazed me about the city was how green it was. Maybe I’m too used to the faux desert landscape of LA, but I’m in awe all the time of that fresh humid smell. Granted, my bangs looked like an experiment most of the time, but hey … it felt like vacation. Middle America might not have the busy city lifestyle and work opportunity that brings mobs of people to move to LA or NYC, but it has something else. It has the ability to pursue your dreams with a different type of potential. You .might not be able to be a movie star, or big shot investment banker on the NYSE floor, but you get something else. You can friggin own a house. Which for starters, is something that’s diminishing in the large cities. What can you do in LA or NYC or SF after you’ve gotten your dream job and make it “big” doing whatever your career is? You need to make it bigger if you want a piece of property, something tangible to call your own. But I guess it all depends on what you want.

Here are some homes in Texas that cost the same as bungalows in Venice, CA. (perhaps a little exaggerated there)

I’m moving again in a few months, and the idea of living with my parents frankly sucks. But realistically, this is a rare privilege. I mean, I get the opportunity to at least save some money to begin what I’m calling my “Post Post College” Phase of my life. And that involves big expenditure, with the emphasis being that I don’t want to see anything that reminds me of the past, only the future. I’m ready for some positive change. First though, I’m going to let my mom do my laundry for a bit.

PS: Apparently I have a real mis-use of categories on CultureMash. So one last post with retarded categorization, and I’ll soon be doing some cleanup.