Friday, October 31, 2008

Why Japanese People Should NOT be Allowed to Make Fusion Cuisine

Just so we're clear: ¥1,000 $10.  Just keep that in mind.

Anybody want to throw down with me for Christmas dinner?

-Idaho Bob-

Lollipop and Snickers: Junkies on the 6

We were taking the 6 train to 116th street in Harlem to get some hotdogs and take this picture

when I noticed a pale, hollow face and frail framed man and a corpulent bodied woman pushing a stroller onto the train.  They started to argue over whether or not $20 that the man gave the woman was a loan or a gift, the classic argument amongst homeless people and drug addicts.  A woman got up to get away from the sitting woman and the man came over to sit down, but not without some arguing over holding the stroller while he was getting his balance to sit.

As they sat and continued their argument, however slowed by the yellow lollipop the woman insisted on leaving in her mouth.  The father began to drink his grape soda while the mother held her lollipop in one hand and unwrapped a snicker with another.  Their argument continued to lull and when I looked back up both had nodded.

Classic Junkies.  

I just felt so bad for the child they had.  What do you think it was getting fed if the parents were eating grape soda and sinkers, nodding off while arguing over $20?  When we got off the mother was dozing, a string of caramel dangling from her mouth and the father was staring off into space, the child was asleep.  

Sometimes you need a reminder of what the world (this city) can do to people, and what people can do to themselves.  I don't know that they weren't just very sleepy parents having an off day, so perhaps it is wrong to judge, but I hope the kid will be alright.

-Idaho Bob-

P.S.  Don't do drugs

Thursday, October 30, 2008

2008 Slow Music Cine Reel 1.2

Version 1.2 is not much different than version 1.1.  I'm looking for an upbeat song to cut to since the general consensus is this one is too moody and sleepy time.  Post suggestions in the comments for me.

The Loss of Inspiration and Dreams


Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Early Bird Gets the Traffic Accident: The Man's Attempt to Kill the Overproductive

You may not want to believe it but someone out there is trying to kill stupid people.  Or, stupid people are in charge of Harlem crosswalks.  The best one is the signs that broadcast both walk and don't walk at the same time. It tends to happen in the early morning and my guess is the Man is trying to weed out morning people as they make the rest of us look unproductive.

-Idaho Bob-

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Digital Me

Recognize me?  Well, this colorful set of squares is me, the digital representation of my computer and all it's contents.  The software to do this is supposed to (and it does) help you get a grasp of what is on your hard drive and I found gobs of stuff I never even knew I had (like a .VOB of a Japanese pink film).  But, more interesting to me is seeing myself as the sum of my files.  

Think for a second if you lost everything on your hard drive, just gone forever.  You'd be crushed, you'd feel a piece of you is gone forever, a link to the past, your attempt to archive yourself in a machine.  Well, if my computer goes I'll have this picture to see what I lost.  I'm going to keep making one once a month to see how I've changed.

-Idaho Bob-

Michael Jordan is a Junkie Rapist

I met the most delightful woman on the train today.  She looked nice, pretty, with a good sense of style.  She's an up-an-coming african american fashion designer and had on a really cute hat she had made.  She walked in, sat down, and placed this on the ground:

Apparently Jordan is also a vampire (AIR Jordan!) and drinks children's blood.  He has a townhouse near her appt. and has been stalking her for 24 years.  When his wife left she took like, 10 mil, and he just couldn't deal with that.  You see, he's mentally unstable, doing lots of heroin and coke, and making runs to Belize to buy new rape victims.

She can hear her girl scream every morning from the townhouse next door and then he takes her over to the appt. building across the street (his dealers probably) and they whip and gang rape her there too.  He also must have bought the appt. underneath hers because she hears her crying in the mornings as he goes at it all day long.  If anyone strange comes near his kids he has to do voodoo animal sacrifices and cleanse the children with the blood. 

But, of course, he pays off the cops so there is nothing this poor mother can do except get on the train and put our these papers begging for a good samaritan to post the info on the net.  Well, I am that good samaritan.

-Idaho Bob-

Obviously vampire flying skills

Friday, October 24, 2008

Hot Gay Sex

Sam J and Joe M were having some steamy butt slamming in out appt and they were "wrestling" so hard that they broke our couch.  We were all talking peacefully when a big snap cut through the silence and we all looked over to see the two of the guilty party looking stunned at their own combined body weight.  Truly a wonderful sight to behold.  Two men, in the height of ecstasy, shocked by the realization their passion exceeded that of Ikea's structural integrity.  

-Idaho Bob-

P.S.  In the morning they fixed it though.  Good as Ikea new.

Friends making Films

My Friend DK made this and it was really a nice little piece.

-Idaho Bob-

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Why no lefty?

See this side?
Why is it blank?  Why must all my things be on this side?

I swear I've seen people with things on the left, but not me?  Why not me?  Answer me Blogger, or someone who knows...... WHY?

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

The other side of Harlem

I've got these cute gloves.

Yea, that's them.  I bought them in Japan because my other gloves.
Yea, those, got holes in the fingers and aren't so much fun in the winter time.  If you've read the first post you know how much I like where I live up here in Spanish Harlem.  But, there are flip sides to being in a place like this and that is you have to maintain a street persona.  I'm not talking throwing colors or looking "hard" as you walk the streets, but you have to avoid the "please mug me" flags.  These gloves, are definitely one of those signals.  So, it sucks but I can't feel right wearing them up here until I'm safely downtown where people stop me and talk about how cute my gloves are.  

It's a small price to pay for unique and adorable gloviness.

-Idaho Bob-  

Monday, October 20, 2008

My Gay Godfathers

Today I went to help out my gay godfathers.  Yes, I have gay Godfathers, and I know it's strange sounding, but say it to yourself real quick, aloud: Gay Godfathers, MY GAY GODFATHERS.  Has a nice ring, no?

They always seem to be falling apart.  Older gentlemen, celebrating their 19th or 20th anniversaries of their 39th birthdays, forever on the cusp of middle age.  R had hernia surgery (on his 5th hernia) 2 days ago and I went over to help them on our annual get together to move the air conditioners downstairs.
Their story is long, longer than I can tell you in a day and then that's only the surface that I know.  So, we'll stick to the highlights.....

I was 18, a farm boy WAY over his head thinking he could just move to NYC after 1 year of college in Westchester.  I had been grandfathered into a upper west side apartment by a college roommate and was working everyday at a pizzaria just to pay the insane rent.  My home was 7x14 feet without a kitchen and a shared bathroom on the floor.  I had room for a bed, a small refrigerator, a microwave and a TV (the microwave was on top of the fridge, the TV on top of that).  The rent was $736.40, trust me, I remember.  I got the pizza job through the same roommate's mother who told me when I returned from my 2 week stint back in Idaho I'd have a job waiting, and she wasn't lying. 

Of course, the flight into LGA was delayed and my luggage never showed at the airport.  I sat and sat watching 1 heavily taped cardboard box go round in circles on the luggage rack until the box disappeared, taken by someone behind the concrete curtain, and the whole machine ground to a halt; no more flights were coming in.  When I got my luggage the next day some DVDs and video games were missing...but, that's besides the point.  

It was my first day training at the pizzeria.  It was a Friday and I was told to reserve this corner table for a 6pm reservation, no it wasn't in the book, and I could remember to do this every week from now on, special regulars.  So they walk in, one big one small, R and B.  R comes to me, asks if I'm new, scratch that, tells me I'm new as he knows EVERYONE that has ever worked at the place.  I tell him I go the job through Ralph, was his roommate in college.  "The poor thing he says" and commences to bash on my only friend in New York.

I'm 18, a cute, fresh faced farm boy, perfect prey out in the open.  It's the opening night of the first Harry Potter movie and they have an extra ticket.  They ask what I'm doing, I say I'm here training, it's my first day and I'm nervous as hell.  He leaves, comes back, says "your off and your coming with us to the movie."  I look at Rick the manager, he nods, I get my bag and we're off.  

In the theater he tells me very VERY lewd stories of his time in the army as we're sitting waiting for the movie to start.  I mean, this is one of the most highly anticipated kids films of the year and I'm sitting with a stranger who just pulled me from my first day at work telling me he "got up every morning, fucked him in the ass, I went to work and he went back to bed.  It was the perfect arrangement!"  Needless to say I was a little scared and it made it more confusing that they LOVED Harry Potter.  (I'm finally reading the 7th book because every time we talk they hound and hound me to finish the series.  "Have your read the 7th book?" "No, not yet." "If you don't read it I'm gonna take you over my knee and spank ya'. But, then again you'd probably like it too much.").

We became friends, seeing each other every Friday and eventually they took me in as a son type character, helping me with places to stay when the SUNY system kicked us out on breaks and my plane was a day or two later, feeding me sausage and meatballs (with as much sexual innuendo as possible), giving me mountains of clothing 2 sizes too big, and just being a constant in my NY life.  They have also opened my eyes, or desensitized me, to some extremes of gay life and sexuality.  R once told me a story about how he had a lover who's anus was so big R had to reach both hands in and jerk himself off just to get anything out of fucking the guy.  
R was at StoneWall, and if you don't know click on the link and read up.  It is a very important event in NY Gay history and Gay rights.  

The two of them couldn't be more opposite.  R is gruff, outgoing, shorter and built, lewd, and takes no shit form anyone.  B is more soft spoken, tall and skinny, constantly having to playfully scold R when he makes a dirty remark, and a masseuse.  They are a treasure to behold, characters to the extreme only beaten by the company they hold.  I've met more characters in their company than you can shake a stick at, and the list gets bigger and bigger as the years pass.  And they are deeply in love with one another to the point in wrenches your heart open.  I love to watch them squabble and flirt and act like an old married couple.
In return for their care I'd come over and help around the house, lifting things, installing shower bars and shelves for R's (and later B's as well) C-PAP machines (for sleep apnea).  I was constantly asked to become their naked house boy, often in front of friends, and they have seen me naked (R was the first to call me a bubble butt, which frankly, is true).  For a while I was sure they were trying to get me into some sort of 3 some, mostly due to Ralph's not so joking concern about their interest in me and my lack on contact with gay men.  But, over time I came to realize that they truly loved me like a son, but without all the drama and baggage a son carries.  They loved my girlfriends, give thoughtful Christmas gifts, and always call to see how I am.
But, they are a bit of a wreck.  In one day, B fell down the stairs of the subway during the Queens Summer blackouts, tearing a leg ligament, and R scratched his cornea by getting some dust in his eye just the wrong way.  Needless to say I was over more often during the recovery period to go to BJs (I know, someone should have thought it was a bad idea and R likes to tell me it's my favorite store) to get water bottles and other necessities.  Not much later they got in a car wreck, then another wreck, then a bunch of other hospital visits I can't even remember when why or how.  It seems I only see them when one or both is incapacitated somehow.  But, through it all they stay happy and I'm inspired by that.
One of the worst times was when their long time companion, Benny Goots, a Westy who was very sluggish, blind, and limp, but a real sweetie, died.  It was a long time coming, but it crushed, I mean CRUSHED them, R especially.  Listen, when you're 2 gay men, your dog IS your child.  They had lost their child and were just so down; always talking about him, keeping his old toys around, it was a bad time.  Then, the flipside: they got a new Westy puppy.  Named him Frodo Baggins (they love Lord of the Rings too and have watched the entire extended version box set in a row at least twice).  The puppy seemed to revitalize them and I have never seen them happier.  The thing is like a monster on speed where Benny was a angel on pain killers.  Frodo is great and he has poured his youthfulness into them.  They really have changed since bringing him into the family and I always say you can tell a lot about people by their pets and you know from Frodo that R & B are great people.
So, it's been 5 years now since that first Harry Potter movie (we've gone to every one since by the way and they are VERY upset at the recent push back of the latest film) and we meet when we can on Fridays at the Pizzeria (or Wednesdays at the same pizzeria on Bleaker st.) or at their home in Queens.  They have met my family (got 11 of us into a crowded restaurant without reservations) and I've been to the doctor a few more times with them.  I learn new things about them every time I go to meet them (R is related to the real-life man who the Godfather is based off of) and learn a lot from them.  

I don't get out to see them as much as I should, and I never remember to call, just like a real son.  It's never been a burden to go and help them out, I'm glad to help them.  I'm sure from an outsider's perspective it looks like I'm the good guy, going out to care for the aging, gay, accident prone couple, but they're wrong.  We look out for each other, because that is what a family does, they look out for each other, and I know that I always have a home, I always have someone to turn to no matter what is this home away from home, New York City.  I have my Gay Godfathers.

-Idaho Bob-  

Sunday, October 19, 2008

LES by Max Perlich

Scion (the ugly car company) thinks they are cool by supporting filmmakers to make movies for them.  They kinda' are for doing that considering the film does not have to do anything with Scion.  But, that is besides the point.  The point is: here is a Scion produced film (in rough form) that are good friends Shadi's son is in and I shot randomly on.

Max and his editor did a great job with everything that went crazy on the shoot considered, and props to our guy Ben Finds who did the stop motion animation.  The only thing I don't dig on is the color correct; I think the film os too bright in a lot of shots, shots I know aren't supposed to be that ugly bright.  To prove it, check the film out then click on the link below to see another video that has the same footage in it, but better handled.  

Watch the Reel (P.S. FireFox doesn't like it for some reason)

-Idaho Bob-

Saturday, October 18, 2008

The Competitive Feline Circuit

Bet you didn't even know there was a competitive feline circuit.  After all, how could a cat show work; they don't do tricks and can't really be trained.  The answer: sheer vanity and a handful of "tricks" that every cat does naturally (like looking at a thing being shaken at them).  It's all a big excuse for people who obsessively spend too much time and money on their cats to come and spend more time and money, some flying from the west coast for the 2 day competition.  But the point isn't what they do, it's how they do it, and they do it in style.

This woman slept with this cat for at least 1/2 an hour.  It was one of the most touching human-feline things I have ever seen and it made the whole day worth it.

-Idaho Bob-

Blogs are all about vanity Right?

Here is vanity: my vanity.  These are what I think I look like, what I want you to think I look like.

-Idaho Bob-

Photos From Japan

To make sure the family and the Gay Godfathers felt connected to my stay in Japan I put up pictures we took in Japan.  Some are funny, some are informative, some are stupid.  I'm not a very good editor and hit or miss I put them all up.  What's done is done, and I won't take down or change the lame ones.  

-Idaho Bob-

Did I ever tell you I loved Harlem?

Probably I have.  I feel like this is my hood, but I know I'm just an early gentrifying invader slowly ruining the beautiful thing that is Spanish Harlem.  Does it make it any better that I am not the first?  No, not really.  
The last neighborhood we tried to gentrify ended with the success of the neighborhoods unorganized resistance of constant coldness, racial threats, yokings, and dead bodies on the doorstep.  Bushwick brooklyn won the battle, but not for long.  As we moved out the final death blow moved in; some young white rich hipsters bought out an abandoned building and turned it into a club, nail in the coffin.
So we fled, went back to the safety and familiarity of my alma mater, lived like one of "those people," the ones that just can't leave.  The truth was we were also running out of money, and I needed a place to stay for free while I could climb up from the $50-$150 a job rung to the now $150-$250 a job rung.  We had a good time though, had a great time actually.  I finally got to enjoy college, have fun, talk to my peers.
Anyway, the semester ended and we were going to be homeless.  Things just fell into place for me to couch/tatami hop all summer.  I was in Idaho for 2 weeks, 2 nights on a TV studio floor where I couldn't leave and had to cook my soup in a coffee pot, then 3 days on a horrible short film couch, then 2 night with some summer school friends, then 8 nightmarish days in an upstate cabin shooting a horror feature, 1 more day of summer school, then 2 months in Japan hoping around with Maiko (she's my girlfriend, 3 years, Japanese).
We never saw the appt. before we moved in.  I showed up having no idea what to expect and pulling up in a cab at 10PM and watching the eyes on me wasn't a good start.  But, we love the place, the view of downtown Manhattan from 15 stories up (16th floor with no 13th due to superstition), nice people, good building, fantastically safe neighborhood.  Sure, there are drug dealers in plain sight on the corner of the supermarket, but they are the good drug dealers.  They peddle weed "taxi, car service" and we see their customers in the stairwells just chillin' or trying to escape from their mothers, fathers, step parents, broken homes.  Point is, it's just rough looking enough to keep the hipsters out.  
We went to Williamsburg to Moby's birthday party.  Long story short, I hated the place and breathed fresh air when we hit 125th st.  Williamsburg is like some art schools frat party spilled onto the streets.  The sheer youth of the place makes me embarrassed to be there.  It's a place to flaunt, here you hide.  I like to hide.
So, I tell everyone I live in Harlem and watch their faces look in skepticism at my obvious boasting.  At the moment there is some hopping spanish music party going on below, people shouting, bass thumping, beers being thrown 12 stories down to shatter and set off car alarms.  Poverty on holiday, forgetting the hard truth that tomorrow starts the grind again, the wearing down of the lower class.  And here I am, blogging for the first time, helping oil the machine that keeps all these people I know love as neighbors down.

Welcome to Harlem and On.

-Idaho Bob-