1/31/2008

BLINDING RAGE!

Just gonna let it go here for a moment. Ahem.

Why the hell are there so many jewelry store commercials? Ben Bridge, Jared, E.E Robins, Shane Company, International Jewelers, Weisfield, why the eff do I know the names of every single jewelry store in the state of Washington even though I've never bought a piece of jewelry in my life? Commercials for this stuff are so ubiquitous on the radio you would think that jewelry and engagement rings are a basic staple of everyday life, like beans, rice, flour, water. This couple in the commercial says, "We made the decision to shop at Jared. And we will continue to shop at Jared!" Are people really buying diamonds like groceries??
Come on, people!

And hey, widescreen TV owners. Before you invite me over to watch an important film on your TV, go outside and look around. Does the full moon rise looking like a squashed ellipse? Observe the people walking by. Do any of them have heads that are over two feet wide and shaped like a football? Do you see any 5 year old girls built like wide-shouldered linebackers? No! Because unless you're living in some kind of psychedelic nightmare universe scored by slowed-down and reversed Beatles songs, this is not reality, so fix the damn settings on your goddamn TV! Come on, widescreen TV owners!

And transit buses—get your fat asses out of my lane! Whose idea was it to build buses two feet wider than the actual street? Every time I have to pass a bus--which is already a frightening experience when they stop abruptly in the middle of traffic to pick up some lonely straggler off the sidewalk and I have to either dramatically swerve around them or sit and wait 5 minutes while an obese 60 year old schizophrenic bongo player crawls onboard—every time I pass a bus it's a faceoff with annihilation as I have to dodge around the bus's huge birthin' hips and squeeze past with barely an anorexic inch between the bus, myself, and the hurtling dumptruck in the oncoming lane. Get thinner, buses! You damn buses! Come on you damn buses!

ISAAC, HERE. DRINK THIS.

What?

DRINK THIS. IT WILL CALM YOU DOWN.

This is coffee!

YES.

Coffee doesn't calm me down, Blue Space, it winds me up!

THIS CUP OF COFFEE CONTAINS A POWERFUL SEDATIVE THAT WE USED TO ADMINISTER TO VICTIMS OF COMBAT STRESS DURING WORLD WAR I. I THINK YOU WILL FIND IT QUITE SOOTHING. IT'S EFFECTS ARE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE EQUIVALENT OF ONE CUP OF COFFEE.

You had sedatives in WWI? I thought medics back then were only trained to chop off limbs and stick hot irons in your eyes.

ISAAC, I AM TRYING TO HELP YOU RELAX.

I am perfectly relaxed, Blue Space! Conjuring up everything that annoys me and ranting about it is how I unwind at the end of the workday.

ISAAC, BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOUR WELL-BEING I HAVE WRITTEN YOU A RELAXATION HAIKU, WHICH I SUGGEST YOU MEMORIZE AND REPEAT TO YOURSELF WHENEVER YOU ARE FEELING AGITATED. HERE IS MY HAIKU, ENTITLED, "rlxhaiku4.txt"

PEACE, BROTHER, WORKED UP OVER NOTHING

BE AS THE REED IN WIND, BLOWN BUT NOT BLOWN AWAY

LIE ON THE GROUND, SLEEP FOR SEVERAL HOURS

WAKE UP, EAT BREAKFAST BURRITO

Blue Space that wasn't even close to being a haiku.

IT WAS A FREE-VERSE HAIKU. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND MODERN POETRY.

By the way this sedative isn't doing anything. Probably because you used the opposite equivalent of one cup of coffee, and you put it in a cup of coffee.

IT IS NOT WORKING BECAUSE YOU DON'T BELIEVE. NATUROPATHIC MEDICINE IS BASED ON FAITH, ISAAC. FAITH, AND MAGIC.

FAITH IN MAGIC.

Please don't get me started on naturopathic medicine, Blue Space. I'm already too relaxed as it is, if I start talking about Zicam and Waxy Cold Lozenges and the whole world of Medicine That Doesn't Do Anything…I might slip into a coma.

Stumble Upon Toolbar

1/25/2008

THIRD WORLD COUNTRY


In recent months I have developed a food routine that combines nutrition, convenience, and extreme cheapness. I buy these boxes of pre-cooked frozen brown rice at Trader Joes. The rice comes in little baggies that you just pop in the microwave for 3 minutes. Dump on some black beans, throw in some cheese and a little hot sauce, and you got yourself a stew goin'.

Nevermind the ominous, rumbling thunderheads of gas this diet produces—beans and rice are really good for you!

Unfortunately, these brown rice boxes are so popular that Trader Joes is incapable of keeping them in stock. They've been missing from the shelves for weeks now, and I've been forced to switch to flax pasta and eating out way too often. Which, I have to admit, does make me feel less like a P.O.W, but it's also pretty draining on the pocketbook. Dammit, I can't afford to not live like a P.O.W!

So, I called Trader Joes and had them reserve a bunch of these rice rations for me, if they ever do come back into stock. I hunkered down on my floor and gnawed on a chicken bone for days. And then….

Today! Today Trader Joes called me to let me know that a shipment has come in! A shipment of rice has arrived!

I swatted the flies out of my face, threw on my loincloth, and ran barefoot to Trader Joes, where I stood in front of the doors leaping up and down and waving my arms and shouting until they tossed the rice down to me from their trucks.

Food! I have food! Perhaps I will survive the winter afterall!

Stumble Upon Toolbar

1/22/2008

BEAT YOURSELF UP



Well look what I found in the basement boxes! A nice little veryshort story that I wrote in 2006 and forgot to publish on here. It's a little one-page jobbie, shouldn't take you more than 4 minutes to ingest should you so choose.

Oddly enough this makes "Future Me" the second story I've written about being dealt with harshly by alternate versions of myself. Actually the third, if you count "Price of Gas". Hm. Obviously some self-hatred going on here. But nev'rmind that! On with it!


Stumble Upon Toolbar

1/21/2008

THE MLK MAN

Today is Martin Luther King day, so you probably have the day off to stay home and think about civil rights. It's a good holiday. Seems a bit racist, though, doesn't it, that we celebrate this holiday, which is the official holiday for black people, by not going to our jobs? Hmm, thought we wouldn't catch that, U.S Government?

But anyway, since we get to slack off work today, I thought we should learn a little about the man who this holiday is celebrating, the one and only Martin Luther King Jr.


Martin Luther King Jr, or "MLK" as he is affectionately abbreviated, ruled the ancient city of Byzantium from 105 to 230 A.D, and was in fact the first African American to hold office in the ancient Roman world. This played a significant role in changing attitudes about African Americans across the ancient world, and even to this day many countries in Africa are controlled by and largely populated by African Americans.

Although MLK ruled Byzantium for 125 years, (He changed the city's name several times during his rule, trying out various options such as Happytown, Kickassville, and Arlington, before finally settling on Constantinople) he is best known for his legendary exploits as a young man. Specifically, the Thirty Four Labors which he supposedly accomplished in order to win the hand of a beautiful Greek princess. These labors were similar to the famous Twelve Labors of Hercules, except there were thirty-four of them.

Unfortunately, the stories behind many of the Labors have been lost to history, as they tended to be less sensational than those of Hercules. Some of the better known tasks include digging a really deep hole for no reason, standing on one foot for over two hours, killing a pig, and painting "Rome Sucks, Fuk Rome" on a major Roman highway overpass.

In later years when asked why people didn't remember most of his feats anymore, MLK admitted that thirty-four Labors was probably a few too many Labors to make a really compelling legend, as it was a bit much for the people's attention span. Nevertheless, MLK did accomplish all thirty-four tasks, and won the princess's hand, which he dried and kept strung on a necklace for the rest of his life. MLK is probably one of the most well-known African American severed-hand fetishists.

So that's the story of Martin Luther King Jr. Even if you can't remember all 34 of his legendary feats, you can still kick back with a cold beer and soak up the winter sun on a day you'd normally be working. And you'd better NOT be working. It doesn't matter what your job is or how much holiday pay they're offering you. Anyone who works on MLK Day is a racist.

Now I will leave you to contemplation, aided by a little song by my good friend Jared, entitled MLKJR DAY



Stumble Upon Toolbar

1/17/2008

CAR MAKER HUBRIS!

Does it really not bother you that car companies refer to their cars "by name", without using articles like "the"?

It's so subtle you can easily miss it, but pay attention next time you hear a car commercial. You'll hear something like, "Tundra features the latest in…" and "Come test drive Camry today…"

That's right. Not "the Camry"---just "Camry." As if they are not objects, but people.

When was the last time you said to someone, "Hey, Accord blew a head gasket so I'm gonna take her into the shop, can I hang out with Civic for a few days?" This, folks, just doesn't happen. Automakers have obviously gone mad with power and believe they are creating living things. Face reality, Honda, Toyota, Chevy, you are not the All Spark. When your cars can stand up, walk, and shoot missiles, then you may drop the "the" and call them by name, but not a goddamn minute sooner!

Stumble Upon Toolbar

1/16/2008

LOUD NEIGHBORS




Friends friends friends, I have a new short story up. It's about an encounter with loud neighbors in a strange apartment complex. It's a strange one, although that should come as no surprise.


Read it? Yes no maybe.


LOUD NEIGHBORS

Stumble Upon Toolbar

1/14/2008

CAR TROUBLES - DEADLY FRIES

Car troubles.
The old jalopy overheats downtown, the gauge is in the red, I wake from my semi-conscious commuter reverie to the sound of boiling water and the sugary smell of hot antifreeze.

I pull over, pop the hood, and do the thing where you stand there in the rain with your hood open looking very distressed, and people drive by and laugh.

I take an Aquafina bottle and collect rainwater from a drainage gutter, then add it to my parched radiator. I drive to Jiffy Lube and say "Dude, WTF."

Dude says, "Dude, you need a radiator flush because of magical coolant problems you've never heard of because I just made them up. It'll be $99.99."

I shrug and say, "Do it, dude. Do your thing. Make it happen."

I sit in the waiting room and read Motor Trend. It's sad reading articles about the newest Rolls Royce model while waiting for your dying decrepit Hyundai to come out of surgery. Everything in this Rolls Royce is made of superluxe materials. The engine block is oiled mahogany. The gas tank is Corinthian leather. The belts are the cured sinews of English lords.

Bullshitting Lube Dude finishes the job. I pay him and drive away. 5 miles from the shop my car is boiling again. I pull over in the parking lot of a Vet Clinic, appropriate since my car is wheezing and hissing like a cancerous cat. I do the open-hood staring-at-engine thing again, and I'm right next to the biggest intersection in the area. The city has a hearty chortle at my expense.

I have to wait for the car to cool down before I can add coolant, and I'm starving, so I leave the beast there and run across the street to Kidd Valley for some quick carbs. I come back with a bag of piping hot French fries, set them in the car, and go to work filling the radiator with antifreeze. When I'm done, I set the funnel on some trash in my car, and go back out to clean up. I call Jiffy to give Bullshitting Lube Dude a piece of my mind.

"Dude your engine advice sucks."

"Yeah, sucks all the way to the bank!"

"I'm gonna call your manager. I'm gonna have your job on a platter."

"Suck it, customer guy. I'm the Lube King. What are you the king of?"

I have no comeback for this, so I hang up and go sit in my car. I realize that the trash I dropped the slimy funnel into was actually my bag of fries. So this is how I find myself sitting in my car at night in the rain in a Veterinary parking lot, sifting carefully through a bag of French fries for the ones that aren't coated in anti-freeze.

Earlier today I read about how if you do radiator flushes yourself you need to make sure you don't get any coolant on the ground because dogs will lap it up and die. I guess I probably shouldn't eat these fries. But I'm starving.

Has anyone before me ever played high-stakes Russian Roulette with a bag of fries? Surely this situation is unique to history.






(P.S, I am disabling the email notification function. Things aren't working out between us. So you're just gonna have to bookmark this place. My deep-ass apologies.)



Stumble Upon Toolbar

1/09/2008

ALBUM COVERS?










Can you say DESIGN TREND?

These are all recent releases, and I spotted all of them at Starbucks. Apparently "dead-centered frilly font" is the "IT" album cover design for 2008.





But wow....A Fine Frenzy is....fine. I mean...my God.



Stumble Upon Toolbar

1/07/2008

TERRIBLE NEW YEARS

Look at your calendar, you may notice it's January 2008, which means yet another year has coughed up blood and expired on the wet stinking back-alley asphalt of time. How was your New Years? Let me tell you a little about mine.

My plan for this December was to finish up all my projects and goals before Christmas, then use the remaining days to take a deep breath, relax, reflect on my life, and think about my future, then go to a New Years Eve party and soak in the excitement of the new year with a bunch of friends and a bunch of champagne. This…was not to be.

The weekend before New Years, I am flying to L.A, where I am meeting a girl and then taking her car on an epic 2-day road trip back to Seattle, because she's moving here. I arrive at the airport at 8:30 am, not realizing that it is my destiny to spend the entire day here. My first flight is delayed 2 hours. This is my first time flying in 9 years, so I get on the plane and am overjoyed to remember that they serve booze! I find this amazing, considering how anal and regulated most places are about alcohol. I mean, I can't have a beer with my action flick at a megaplex movie theater but I can have as many Jack Daniels as I want while hurtling through the sky in a claustrophobic cabin with hundreds of frightened, nervous passengers? Awesome!

Of course I don't have any cash on me. So….nevermind.

I arrive in San Francisco for my connecting flight. My connecting flight is delayed. I wander around the airport with my heavy luggage digging into my shoulders. I hit up the airport bar and pay $7.50 for a well whiskey. My flight is canceled. The problem, they tell me, is not weather, but "Crew". I can only assume this means the pilots got drunk and fell out the emergency exits to the hard pavement below. Can't they just get some more pilots?

(Sidenote: Why do drinking fountains constantly vary in water pressure? Sometimes they shoot onto the floor, sometimes they barely gurgle out. I saw a kid completely making out with the nozzle, full-on lips and tongue. Be warned, America.)

I stand in line for literally one hour to get my tickets changed. They transfer me to American Airlines. I take my new ticket and walk across the entire airport to Alaska Airlines, because Alaska and America both start with "A", and I am a fucking idiot. I walk back across the airport.

I arrive in L.A at 8:30, and meet up with Lori, the girl I'm coming to help move up to Seattle. We stay at her friend's house, where there are no beds or couches, just a hard floor and small scraps of blankets. We don't sleep well.

The next day we begin our journey. It's me, Lori, and her dog Whiskey packed into her car with all her possessions in the back. We drive all day, then crash at Comfort Inn, where we lay in bed and drink Whiskey (the liquor) while watching blaxploitation films on TV. Whiskey (the dog) pees on the floor. The next day I take a shower. While drying my hair I note that the towel stinks horribly. Lori informs me that it's the towel she used to dry up Whiskey's pee. Did I mention that today, Dec 30th, is my birthday?

We have breakfast at the hotel. I am baffled by the unnecessarily hi-tech toaster. The hotel manager condescends to me while showing me how to toast a bagel.

We hit the road again. It's New Years Eve. We drive all day. My buttocks fuse with the seat leather. My spine compacts down several inches. We arrive in Seattle at 11:45 pm. We have just enough time to pull off the freeway into a crowded parking lot before the clock strikes midnight. No party, no champagne, no reflecting on the past and future. Just standing in a dirty parking lot with a bunch of screaming kids with party noisemakers, watching a semi-obstructed view of the Space Needle fireworks display.

The Space Needle fireworks display goes awry, misfires, fizzles out. It's on the news the next day.

Also the next day, Whiskey poops on my sheepskin rug, and I fully kneel my hand in it.

Happy New Year!

Stumble Upon Toolbar

1/03/2008

CONVERSATIONS IN STARBUCKS

Sitting in Starbucks again doing a visit for my work. The mom is late. Me and 5 year-old Zooey are at a table, waiting, bored.



Zooey: You need to shave your beard.

Isaac: You think so?

Zooey: Your beard looks like the same as the rest of your hair.

Isaac: Yeah, I'm gonna trim it down today.

Zooey: You should shave your beard off and then shave your hair off too.

Isaac: Shave it all off so I'm bald?

Zooey: Yes, you should shave all your hair off so it looks like you're dying.

Isaac: But I don't want to die!

Zooey: (Punctuating each phrase with a sweep of her arm on the table) Yeah first you shave off your hair, then you die. Then you go to heaven and you become angels. And then you get smooshed by giant robots.

Isaac: I get smooshed by giant robots in heaven?

Zooey: Yeah.

Isaac: Wow. I don't know if I want to go there then.

Zooey: You have to.





There's an old guy sitting next to me who has cut a large hole in the stomach area of his sweater to provide access to his sunglasses. He keeps his sunglasses hanging around his neck, not on top of his clothes but under them. He has cut a hole in his sweater at the point where his sunglasses hang, so that he can easily reach them without having to reach his hand down his sweater. It's good to see crazy people innovating to make their crazy lives a little more efficient, without sacrificing any craziness.



Finally, I want to tell you all, that I have a musical project called Isaac Marion's Moon Colony, and I have just put out a nice little album you might enjoy. Soft, pretty space ballads meet crunchy clanky chaingang slave blues. If you'd like to hear it please go to

http://www.myspace.com/isaacmarionmusic



Thank you!

Stumble Upon Toolbar