.: culture : mash :.

When I was in my earlier teens, I used to borrow my dad’s clothes to add to my vintage/grunge clothing collection. Needless to say I was sort of a tomboy, but my dad has this incredible 70s wardrobe of stuff he no longer fit in. Clothes, that worn by me were still baggy, but somehow worked well with the resurgence of pre-emo state Leylabot. The shoulders were always too big, the shirts always a tad too long, but more or less, I could wear his jackets and striped button down shirts.

One particular jacket was this caramel colored , part suede thing. It was very fitted, and I wondered how my dad could ever fit in it himself. It meshed well with me, and I rarely went out without it. The color went well against my dark skin and indigo denim blue jeans. I got a lot of compliments on it, and people even offered to buy it from me. Of course I refused.

When I’d come home from school, my dad would see it and laugh. When I went out and smoked cigarettes, I’d feel guilty if I made the jacket smell. I wasn’t aware of dry cleaning, and I knew I couldn’t just toss the thing into the washing machine, but suede holds on to the ashtray stink quite well. Over the years the zipper eventually failed, and due to my laziness, and more recent adornment of black, I wore the jacket less.

Finally, years later I was going through my things, moving yet again, and found the jacket deep inside my closet. I took it, and decided to offer it to the one person I thought both looked good in it, and would really appreciate it, my best high school friend George.

I was talking about it to my mom, after I had given it away, and she thought it looked good on George as well. George was the tall skinny type who looked great in anything vintage. And he always respected my father, so I thought it suiting he get the jacket.

“I remember when that jacket was brand new, we bought it on one of our many trips to Europe. I also remember your father coming home in it, and how I never wanted to see it again.”

“Coming home? From work?”

“I wish, he came home from prison in it. That and a fully grown beard. He wore that in that filthy prison for over 9 months.”

My father, along with his colleague and best friend, were imprisoned during the height of the revolution. They had decided that it was time to leave their own country, after witnessing the revolution first hand changing the land they grew up in . Of course they couldn’t just leave, due to the lockdown of the borders, and nationwide mandate that no one was allowed to leave . They knew they would have to figure out another path for their families. They began to plan a trip to Pakistan, on foot, where they could each go and fetch the rest of their families visas externally from Iran. People talked though, and before the plan was even executed, my father and his best friend got arrested right before my mother’s eyes.

Nine long months of prison, nine worrying months for my family. No change of clothes were given to them, only a blind fold to be worn the entire time almost. How the hell my father endured that, I still find a mystery. Today he’s so peaceful, perhaps not totally happy about his life, but I detect no post traumatic sentiments of nightmares of any sort.

I suppose some things are just too worn to talk about anymore.

If I could be cool enough, I’d wear a helmet as a fashion statement, I think I might. Actually, my last haircut may deliver this without wearing any protective accessory.

I remember the first time I heard about Daft Punk, I was in France. I recognized the beat, and it may have had quite some air time on American radios, but the discos in Paris and Tours were spilling it on the dance floor, maintaining a rhythm and beat which ribboned between the crowed spreading its infectious melody.

Fast forward years later, I’ve listened to a few of their newer albums, but Homework and Discovery still maintain a base in my music collection, an old school anthem of late nineties electroclash and disco remixing.

Last night, as I was squished into the aisle at the LA Sports Arena, dancing and reminiscing, it amazed me that the album was over 10 years old already. People still moved to it like it was brand new.

What I find ironic about Daft Punk, is that their incarnation had very little to do with electronica and digital sound. The bands they found most influential were the Beach Boys, and the Rolling Stones.

I’m amazed at how anglophone music could have evolved into some ill beats through the minds of two French kids..

Found through Digg, a brilliant array of photography from a nation you’d never expect to see these from.

I’m amazed still today, how many people think Iran is a barren desert filled with nothing but camels and cloaked toothless people carrying AKs. You know, even I was surprised at some of the photographs from Trek Earth. Why do I fear a nearing destruction of what we still have there?
source: TrekEarth

Garman Herigstad is an experienced Houdini teacher and longtime artist in production. He used to work with me in the LA office of SESI.

In his numerous years of production, Garman spent a lot of time in Asia, China and Thailand to be specific.

One of the cutest things he ever showed me was this little video he made of a close friend’s son trying to shoot webs from his wrists. He shot the footage over a meal, and later took it home to add the special effects.
You can visit Garman’s school Vizy Acky here.

Frankly, I think the only way to celebrate someone’s birthday is to fry stuff. Okay, well maybe there are other facets to celebration American style, but this one sure is popular.

Becca turned … ok I won’t say the actual age, since we are both over the mid twenties benchmark, but we had a BBQ at her house to celebrate.

Now I enjoy cooking, and grilling, and I think I can manage relatively complicated foods. However, what I saw my friends accomplish this past weekend can only be described with images.

Keep in mind, I’m pretty sure we all consumed roughly around 3,000 calories each, give or take a few hundred.

First came the dessert, naturally. Also because our friend Jacob was in from out of town, and needed to leave shortly.

Then came the birds, yes, three of them. One turkey, and two chickens. Now I know what you’re thinking, that’s way too much food. No… it wasn’t.

(BTW, we grilled things too, but had to make use of the 6 GALLONS of peanut oil)

Recently, if you’ve had the pleasure of hanging out around me, I’ve been doing what I think is my most annoying trait. I’ve been talking over and over, about a funny show I’ve discovered and gotten addicted to. The show is Flight of the Conchords, but what’s extra annoying is hearing me trying to impersonate the funny parts of the show and the main characters, only I don’t have a New Zealand accent. What comes out of my mouth is some concoction of English and Australian, but not real Australian, a cheesy Crocodile Dundee Australian. Which I sorta find odd, because whenever I attempt a British accent, it turns into this too. But anyhow, more on the show.

If you’ve ever loved Spinal Tap , you will likely love the tale of Bret and Jermaine, a folk duo from the other place near the big shark island down there, trying to make it as musicians in New York. The show reminds me also of the Ricky Gervais UK version of the Office, it’s got a bit of dialog and neurotic behavior which somehow I find charming. Even more interesting, it’s a comedy musical, and I usually HATE musicals. However, I’ll honestly say the songs are brilliant and actually support the show, rather than give you the usual bizarre intermission of wasted bad talent.

Please watch some, so I can endlessly quote the lines and irritate you, but at least you’d get it.

I had a bbq for July 4th at my mom and stepdad’s house in Hermosa Beach yesterday. Many friends from different places came to the beach city with no parking, crawling boardwalk by the sand, and rooftops spilling with drunken Trojan fans and beach blond cookie cutters.

I like to think our party was different though. The grill was going from morning till night, showcasing the best in meat, tofu, veggies, and desserts even. People might be different, cultures might be varied, but one thing that always gathers people to have a good time is gluttony.

The day involved a lot of drinking of champagne concoctions, including what Jason now refers to as the Leylini… sad no one else appreciates this.

And no conversation is as sophisticated as talking about your tan, or the fact that you’re freckled, or how you’re glad it’s a little overcast so you won’t get too brown.