I said God Damn!

Austin City Limits Festival 2005

Coldplay
Oasis
Allman Brothers
Wilco
Robert Randolph
Thievery Corporation
The Arcade Fire
Franz Ferdinand
The Walkmen
The Fiery Furnaces
Mates of freakin’ State

Even if you’re not a fan of the mainstream bands, that’s a pretty impressive lineup. I’m most excited about the last two. Although I think we’re getting spoiled in Austin. Last night:
Gina: You know what would make it perfect? If Beck were playing.
Steven: What? No Gomez?

Favorite band name on the list: The Massacoustics

丢失在转换

Being Chinese doesn’t wiegh too heavily on my mind most days. But the wide-eyed stares from people whenever I say something to my parents always manages to bring me back down to reality. I guess I can understand the spectacle of hearing someone you know reveal his ability to speak virtual gibberish to your ears with a few random hints dropped along the way such as "car insurance" or "tax refund".

This is when you discover how paranoid people really are. "Were you talking about me? You were weren’t you? You were telling your parents what an ass you think I am right?"

Another thing that reminds me of my Asianicity is whenever I spend extended amounts of time with my family, my inner monologue reverts from English back to Chinese. It’s a weird phenomenon that puzzles even me. Granted, I don’t have the most refined thought process. It’s never a clear-cut train of thought such as "Hey pick up that Coke on the table and drink it." Actually, I wonder sometimes if I have ADD. If anyone else out there hears a jumble of voices that speak in sentence fragments then let me know and we can compare notes. On good days I’ll think that it’s a sign of genius. On bad days I’ll think it’s a sign of mental illness. Does the inconsistent language usage support one theory or the other?

Part of me is ecstatic when I catch myself thinking in Chinese, as if it’s validation that I’m truly Chinese. It was somewhat encouraging to hear my dad admit that he’s started to dream in English. Of course it could also mean that mental illness is genetic.

I thought of an alternate title for those with no Simplified Chinese vieweing capabilities: Do Asians dream of Chinese sheep?

Congrats/Condolences/Best Wishes on your Birthday/Graduation/New Baby/Death

Spending my lunch hour at Target staring down the aisles upon aisles of greeting cards reminds me of how much I loathe buying cards. I always dread the oncoming summers due to the one reason that Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and both of my parents’ birthdays are on the horizon.

Today alone I bought two graduation, one birthday and one Mother’s Day card. Damn you, Hallmark. For some reason my parents cannot get enough of greeting cards. They read them, reread them, place them on the mantle, hang them on the wall, all to my bewilderment.

So of course I have to send out congrats to my various cousins graduating from their respective schools. My choices were paradoxically endless (from every occasion from every relation like the Best Wishes from your Elder Cousin in Texas who you see every two years) to very very narrow (as in my only options, the pink flowery card or the cartoon poodle with diploma in paw).

Seriously, have you seen what the general public has to choose from? You can either pick: a.) the inspirational definition/message only given out by 40 year old English teachers; b.) weird pseudo-sexual allusions only given out by that creepy guy in the office; c.) flowery photo-illustrations with the gushy poem that your mom loves but leaves you feeling less than manly; or d.) the (not so) humorous message, indicating that you are so unoriginal and not funny that you had to rely on a complete stranger to write your card.

Of course there’s always the blank card, which while I appreciate the card company’s confidence to let me write my own message, I can almost hear that same company laughing off in the distance while they take my money in exchange for virtually nothing.

Eh, why is there so much effort into trying to show someone that I care? It’s not that I don’t care, but the sheer weight of trying to prove it makes me want to care so much less. And the act of not buying a card is the most extreme slap in the face you can give. "Well mom, I’m really happy that it’s your 50th birthday but I just didn’t feel like getting you a card." Who wants to bring upon themself that atomic bomb?

On a completely unrelated note, my birthday is coming up next week and I expect cards and presents from every one of my friends!

Rancho Relaxo

Unless I somehow skyrocket to design superstardom and get adulation for my genius, this past weekend will be the only time in the near future I get to hobnob with bigwigs from all over the counry.

This year’s Design Ranch was held at Camp Waldemar, which is a camp for rich girls. Very rich girls. Imagine if you will:

Rich girl: Mother, can I go to Camp Waldemar?
Mother: Well, honey, that sounds nice, but it costs $15,000 a summer to attend.
Rich girl: But moTHER! Monique’s mother said that SHE could go.
Mother: Honey, there’s a 15 year waiting list to be able to go.
Rich girl: I HATE YOU!!!!

That was my first reaction to what it might be like at the camp. But then it’s hard to harbor any ill-feelings towards such a magnificant place. It was impossible to maintain any level of stress while laying in a hammock next to the Guadalupe River. Throw in a few art workshops, food prepared by a four-star chef (he’s on staff), a few kayaks, live music everynight and a few kegs and you have yourself a good ole time.

It was also nice to such uber-successful designers shed any god-like stature and ask if the seat at your breakfast table is open. No ego, no competition, no showboating, well except for one guy. I got to screenprint with the guys who do all the concert posters for Modest Mouse, Interpol and whoever else is trendy. I was sketching out my idea for a Doozie (a koozie that holds two beers) with the principles of well-respected studios. It was satisfying to see people that were successful in design and did it by dictating what they wanted to do.

As nice as it was to relax and get pampered (well not the bunk beds intended for 14 year old girls, that sucked ass), this event helped me realize that I have some work to do in order to get to where I want to be in life.

Gomezmerized

Yeah the concert was over a week ago but I was holding off in the hope that my Holga would pull off some photo magic. No such luck so here are some by another fan with a more sophistimacated camera.

Another great concert by Gomez. I love these guys live. Here’s a taste, from another gig, but I had to share an amazing Beatles cover: Don't Let Me Down

Ben
Courtesy of RabidDog.

Ian and Tom
Courtesy of RabidDog.

Ian and Ben
Courtesy of RabidDog.

Gymnauseum

My latest workout resulted in a few enlightening observations:

Observation 1
Never ever ever take the vacant treadmill behind the woman with fat rolling out of her tank-top arm openings.

Observation 2
I picked the one gym in the entire free world that is devoid of good looking people.

Observation 3
Most men are homophobic unless they’re in a gym locker room where they can stand next to a perfect stranger and strip with no noticeable look of anxiety or awkwardness on their face.

HOLY SHIT!!!

[Gina and Steven on their respective laptops at Spiderhouse working quietly on freelance, enjoying a bright and clear Monday afternoon.]

Gina: Hey can you help me with this bitmap image?
Steven: HOLY SHIT!!!!!!
Gina: What is it?
Steven: Joy is pregnant!
Gina: WHAT?!
Steven: Look at this email...
Gina: Wow.
Steven: Man, they don’t mess around... well, actually they do. Heh heh.
Gina: Well, can you help me with this bitmap and then I’ll let you get back to your freaking out?
Steven: Holy shit.

Idle hands are the devil’s workshop

...unless the devil decided to sit this one out and let you lay on your lazy ass all day when you could be engaged in something more appropriate for this rare beautiful Austin saturday. Here were a few of my options:

Option 1
Forego recuperating from two full days of running around at my company’s convention and volunteer to go help out my fellow coworkers who are suffering through a third day. A valiant display of initiative, but it reeks of a lack of social life.

Option 2
Work on my freelance job, update my portfolio, do the laundry, clean up the apartment, finish setting up my letterpress, make a well-balanced dinner. The most responsible option, but sometimes the thought of doing a lot of things leaves you with the desire to do none of those things.

Option 3
Watch cartoons and sleep all day with the reasoning of "But I’m tiiiiiiired!"

So how can one salvage what’s left of his dignity and his day? I’m guessing by seeing a movie with a buddy and tossing back a few brewskies while telling myself "Tomorrow, tomorrow..."

Anyone can play synthesizers

Radiohead has headed back into the studio to work on their new album, confirming the rumors sparked by Thom Yorke’s cryptic (a.k.a. arty, a.k.a. pretentious) announcement on their message boards.

At what point did Radiohead buy into their own hype? I guess when enough people tell you that you’re the avant garde and savior of rock and roll you eventually lose touch with reality and believe them. Not that I’m not still a fan of the band, but I guess I’ve grown weary of hearing about Thom’s tortured soul and how he’s too fragile to deal with the weight of stardom. Is this for real? Then why clamor for attention by announcing things on a message board? It seems like a far cry from their No Singles, No Video, No Touring campaign for Kid A.

Here’s the part where I join that club where everyone bitches about how said band don’t sound like they used to and how we wish they would just keep making the same music forever. Not really, I’ve enjoyed every one of their albums post-OK Comupter. There’s some absolutely brilliant stuff there. It’s just watered down when I have to skip over the ambient skwaks and bleeps. There are traces in the albums, but mostly evident in their live shows, that when these guys stop trying to fuck around, they can still be the best rock band in the world.

OK Computer and the Bends, like the Beatles’ Rubber Soul and Revolver (and in my personal opinion Gomez’s Bring It On and Liquid Skin) sparked huge debates over which one was better, but reality was that both were bloody brilliant from start to finish. Every second was packed with lush, beauty sounds. They were albums that if they got fused into the CD tray in my player, I wouldn’t be complaining. But I don’t find that true with their later albums.

The beauty of OK Computer was that the band found ways to stretch the instruments they had into new sonic territories. The guitars in Subterranean Homesick Alien still seduce me today. It’s the closest thing I can think of to relate to what people thought of when they heard the distortion coming out of Hendrix’s guitar. Now they just throw in crazy machines because they make different sounds.

I’m not proclaiming the banishing of synthesizers or other instruments. Or even weird sounds. I love the boops that count off Paranoid Android, and I’m currently obsessing over the Fiery Furnaces’ Blueberry Boat.

Bottom line is that I just want Radiohead to stop justifying that different is better. If they want to insert a strange noise then make sure it’s there for a reason. Even if they don’t strap on guitars again, I’ll give them the benefit of hearing it. But don’t expect me to stick around just because people think it’s cool and progressive if I understand the latest offering from Radiohead.

I wish I may, I wish I might...

Sometimes the weight of the world is too much on a Monday morning, so I turned from my normal NPR to a lowly local talk show where each DJ was spouting off his list of things to accomplish within his lifetime and I got to thinking about my own lifelong dreams. So throwing aside factors such as monetary investment, magnitude of the goal (although nothing hokey like World Peace) or just plain implausibility, here’s my tentative list in no particular order:

1. Surf through a barrel of a wave
2. Visit Florence, Italy
3. Illustrate a children’s book
4. Buy that Corvette for my dad that he’s always wanted
5. Own a house with my own private section of the beach
6. Be featured in a design magazine (like Communication Arts)
7. Own a bar
8. Hardwire my iPod to my car
9. Paint a mural (the one I did in 6th grade doesn’t count)
10. Live in Hong Kong
11. Design my own line of graphic t-shirts

That’s all I can think of for now. Stay tuned to see if any of these get moved over to the Mission Accomplished list... but don’t hold your breath. Maybe I should beef up that list with some less lofty goals like Eat a Raspberry Danish but frankly who’s going to be impressed with that?

A Wolf at the Door (or What’s With Wolfowitz?)

President Bush’s nomination of Paul Wolfowitz for the head of the World Bank is a curious one. Why appoint someone with a background in defense as the head of an organization dealing with international economic development? The fact that Wolfowitz was one of the loudest proponents of the war in Iraq should raise a few more eyebrows. The whole issue reeks of Bush taking care of his constituency.

The broader outlook is probably to create a more solid validation of the invasion to Iraq. With President of the World Bank by his side, Bush would have a much easier time funding the reconstruction of a post-war Iraq. Thus expediting the recovery and stability in the region and vindicating Bush for the war. Pretty shrewd.

So, in the end, does this help the world? Does a more stable Middle East justify any possible divergence of attention from other countries in need?

Fuck tha Police

Okay I was speeding. I speed regularly. I’m clearly in the wrong. But isn’t there something about a cop giving you a ticket that just makes you hate the police so much? Isn’t there something more important they could be doing rather than camping out on the side of a road? And it’s supposed to be okay when they flash their lights in order to justify an illegal u-turn into a 7-11? Alright, that doesn’t make my wrong any more right. Just because other people do bad things doesn’t mean I can, right? I should be enlightened enough to take my medicine. Well I’m not so excuse me while I go jump off a cliff with everyone else, which is apparently leading me down into Hell.

My rage reminded me of kids who tattled on you when you were in school. You were obviously doing something wrong, but you’re anger was directed at this kid. Sitting in detention, you’re not thinking about what you did wrong or how you’d learn to do good from then on. Oh no, you sulk the whole time and cursed the kid’s name, even wished death upon him.

Now I have to dish out $150 for the ticket and sit through some boring ass defensive driving class. Thanks Mr. Policeman, love ya. The police: to protect, to serve, to piss off.

Supreme Beings de Rigueur

The Supreme Court takes on the Word of God in the Times by trying to ban the display of the ten commandments in front of government buildings. "The Bush administration, which has filed briefs urging the justices to uphold the displays in both cases..." was a statement that doesn’t surprise me. The executive branch is trying to breach both the concepts of Seperation of Church and State, and Check and Balances at the same time. The Supreme Court may be the one remaining branch trying to maintain the ideals of the U.S. without a personal agenda, but that may not last.

As much as people were upset that Bush reigns supreme for another four years, the extent of his legacy has been slow to dawn on most of the population. Bush has the frightening possibility of electing up to four justices to the Supreme Court before the end of his tenure. Examining his history and tendencies it’s safe to say there will be a significant shift in the ideology of the highest power in the judicial branch. People are concerned that there will be a regression in civil, gay and First Amendment rights. Abortion is most certainly in the front lines of the chopping block.

The country seems very polarized, yet there is not a real balance of power. The Democrats are scrambling to regroup and I don’t think too many people are worried about that. Bush will be out of the Oval Office in less than four years, and the Congress can be realigned in the next election. But what about over in the Supreme Court where the Justices have the luxury of keeping their seats indefinitely? Bush may be carving headlines with Iraq and his War on Terror, but his architecture of the Court may have the most dramatic consequences.

I’m a Laoser, not a Laover

It seems that I keep offending and pissing off people with this web blog. Who knew I’d turn into such a mudslinger? Am I the Joan Rivers of Cyberspace? Us Weekly ain’t got shit on this Laoser! I always meant for the content here to be more tongue-in-cheek but I guess I don’t have the writing chops to pull that off. I don’t need anger management. Most who know me find me to be a pretty laid back guy. But you know what they say, the lighter the picture, the darker the negative.

That said, I’ve never made it a priority to hide my intolerance for people’s bullshit. I’ll bitch and criticize who or what I feel are wrong. Yes, I think Bush is an idiot. Yes, I'm baffled by the adulation commanded by Paris Hilton. Hell yes, I hope there’s some serious bad karma waiting for people like Barry Bonds. I don’t want to hear about what you deserve and I don’t want to hear excuses about what you didn’t do. Own up to some fucking responsibility. In turn, my postings are in a public forum which leaves them open to whatever criticism dished out by anyone with the time (or pain threshold). So bring it! :) The only reason I never sent out a grand announcement along the lines of "Hey look at me and my quasi-intelligent, oh so trendy blog!" was that it was never my style to do so.

Spoil Sport

It’s not so much news anymore but I keep thinking about how Barry Bonds lashed out at the media over his use of steroids. How cares, right? Another pro athlete caught cheating, let’s move on. I think I was more surprised by the disdain Bonds had over the issue. He simply didn’t care that he had cheated. His defense was that other people (particularly the media) cheat and lie and get away with it so he should be able to as well. Who ever said it was okay to cheat? Has he heard of Enron? I hope he has that same arrogant swagger when he’s limp-dicked with man boobs.

Bonds is projected to surpass Babe Ruth in all time homers this season. He has the audacity to use race as the reason he’s being targetted. That the media is trying to protect the glorious Babe’s record. At least he can’t use the same argument when he aims for Hank Aaron, but I’m sure he’ll find some other excuse. I just hope there’s an asterisk next to that big fat number that reads “but he was a fucking juicer.”

Bonds and his demeanor just shows the ill-effects of the public’s eagerness to deify athletes and celebrities. In the age of Paparazzi, they think they’re above laws and morals. Chad Pennington of the NY Jets tried to turn the blame on the media by saying it’s a privilege to be able to report on the athletes, not a right. He and Bonds have forgotten that sports are public entertainment. They are there for the viewers. They are paid an ungodly sum of money for us to watch them run around in uniforms and toss balls around. If they want privacy or the right to use steroids, go play in a community league. When they cash that multimillion dollar check, they then answer to the millions of fans who dish out the money.

As an artist and designer, I know that when I place my work in a public forum, I open it up to public discussion and criticism. Athletes lose sight of the fact that they’re along a parallel path. No, their job is not to get a ball into the hoop; their real job is to entertain.

The NHL is also screwed. The entire season is lost because the players wont accept pay cuts or the fact that teams are bankrupt because there aren’t enough fans to see (i.e. pay) the sport. All of it goes to show that the only ones really suffering are the fans. It was nice to hear that in Canada the fans are turning their attention more towards minor and little leagues without shedding too many tears for the pros.

Fuck the NHL players. Fuck Pennington. Fuck Barry Bonds.

Before and After

Oh Spiderhouse I hardly knew ye

Sure the new two-tier deck adds some needed tables and outlets and the new tiles in the bathroom are nice, but there’s something to be said about the old comic book lined walls and paint-chipped posts. And what’s this? A motion sensor towel dispenser in the bathroom?! Is nothing sacred anymore?

Let’s hear it for hate!

Once in a while I’ll get bored and click the “Next Blog” button on the top right to see what others are doing with their blogs. Yesterday I discovered this which I found amusing. There’s such dedication to the animosity towards this person’s flatmate, it’s mesmerizing and not a little bit scary. Too bad the previous posts aren’t archived. But here’s a gem:

Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Yucky phone
Last night I needed to make a phone call so I went out to the living room and grabbed the phone and went back to my room.. This phone has quickdial, so I chose the pre-programmed umber and casually raised the phone to my ear. As I brought the phone to my face I smelled raspberry jam, but it was too late, it was all over the side of my face. I don't know if the jam got there by her fingers or mouth, and to tell you the truth, I don't really want to know. But she knew about it when she got home.

Today's reason my flatmate pisses me off is that she left raspberry jam smeared on the phone which subsequently ended up on my face.

I read some comments and it’s surprising how many people side with the roommate. How people defend leaving jam on a phone is beyond me. Maybe some feel self-conscious about their bad habits, but come on, who hasn’t had a roommate that annoyed or disgusted them?

My freshman year in college, I had a roommate who, on the first day, was hanging posters in our room and was standing on my pillow with his shoes on. Who knows what sort of shit he’d stepped in before: gum, dirt, dog doo. It was a stark wake-up call from my home, where we took off shoes before going inside. I think the word ‘appalled’ comes to mind.

I remember before leaving for college that I had a fear of walking in on my future roommate peeing in our sink because he didn’t want to walk down the hall to the community bathroom. Luckily that horror was never realized, but that scenario wasn’t too far off from Omar’s roommate getting drunk and peeing all over Omar’s clothes.

But that’s in the past. I think I like my current roomie a little bit more.

The Minimum is the Message

This may be my designer-nerd coming out, but I can’t stand the fact that I have to use special key combos in Blogger to enter the appropriate apostrophe symbol (’) rather than see the frequently misused footmark (').

I see that mistake everywhere and it grates me. Eh, who am I kidding? I'm guilty of footmark laziness in this very post.

i [hate] sinuses

I can’t breathe. My eyes are watering and feel like they’re going to burst. My nasal cavities feel as if cement has solidified within them. I am seriously considering stabbing myself in the face with my pen to relieve the pressure.

Damn you, Austin. I never had allergy issues until I moved here. Now I’m sniffling and sneezing on a daily basis. I enviously look back on those carefree days of ignoring allergy medicine aisles and scoffing at those who needed to arm themselves with kleenex in class. So it goes I guess. Who doesn’t take for granted what they should appreciate? I’ve never heard anyone say “Man, my gall bladder fucking ROCKS!”

Alas, all I can do is retreat to a doctor’s office and load up on drugs. Histamines beware!

From Halo’s heart, I stab at thee

Last weekend was the demise of the Dallas house (aka Sean and Jon's, aka Jon and Mike's) so what better way to send it off in style than to gather up 15 guys and network three Xbox's in the living room and play video games until eyes are bloodshot, livers are aching and thumbs are throbbing? Is there some sort of male instinct that makes such an event so enthralling? Man used to hunt and gather, and now we hunt aliens and gather spinning ammo icons.

All this is speculative since there was a girl in the midst of all this virtual testosterone, my girl to be exact, which left me with too much shame and embarrassment to let my hands get too comfortable nestling a controller. Not that I really minded anyway. I'm not much of a gaming buff anymore and hardly miss it. Plus the small split screen TVs and the fact that the only two guys who knew how to play teamed up to slaughter everyone else made it rather unpalatable. C'mon, where's the challenge? It's like Shaq slam dunking on high school freshmen.

It's still amazing to me that a room full of single guys can so easily resist rows of bars filled with females (just a few blocks away) to play video games. I'm sure I've been guilty many times of foregoing society for a chance to get to the bonus level. But I now I wouldn't hesitate at all to spend time with my girlfriend over a night of video games or to watch football or other minor things (like much needed sleep). But hey, that's me.