In New York State, Part 3, Hey There Up There

   Needless to say, my trip thus far has been a great escape from the state of New York. However, some things never change - and even sound worse at times.

   I understand that this is Los Angeles, and it has it’s own crime to deal with, but I guess I didn’t imagine it would be a daily thing. Not with all the awesome places that exist here:

   You get the point.

   However, none of the kidnappings, murders, protests, car accidents, gas prices, or granny bandits have me looking over my shoulder - yet.

   Though the idea of an 80 year old thief is crazy enough to make me question my personal safety.

   Especially if they are batman.

   One thing that definitely has me feeling pretty awesome though is what I would like to call a personal ‘Leveling Up,’ as I have recently learned how to fly.

   No, not quite.

   Nope.

    Yes, but without the stupid suit made of primary colors.

   Yes friends, I totally learned to fly. It was surprisingly easy too. All it took was a little motivation and teaching from my own father to accomplish such a feat. The following conversation was the long and short of what took place before my flight.

   NOTE! My Dad has a thick Spanish accent, so be sure to include that when you read it.

   Me: “Hey Dad, what is the plan for tonight, anything in particular?”

   Dad: “Well, how do you feel about seeing Universal City, right next to Universal Studios?”

   Me: “That sounds awesome! How far of a drive from here is it?”

   Dad: “Drive? You snag, we’re not driving there.”

   Me: “Are… we taking a bus?… or ca..”

   Dad: “Snag. We are flying.”

   Me:

   Dad: “What, you never fly before?”

   Me: “Well I…”

   Dad: “Just do this. You will be in the air like it was nothing.”

This photo is part of a dramatic reenactment. 

   I thought it odd, but after a few tries, it worked. I was amazed by how much we as human beings miss out on having to stay inside a metal cabin to achieve flight. Being up in the sky, it really makes you see things for what they are. You realize how small you are, and how vast the world is. You see the world for what it is at such an elevation - beautiful and miraculous. When I was flying, I really felt in touch with the vibes of the world. It was like I could hear the whispers in the wind; the all the colors that the world has created; the taste of sky.

   And then I did indoor sky-diving. It was equally as awesome.


 
So, I guess there will be at least one more part in my most captivating of series’. Please be on the look out for the - for real - final part to my travels!

In New York State, Part Dos - Californian Boogaloo

   Needless to say, my trip has been more awesome then what you see above. And yes, it has also consisted of as much break dancing, and break dance fighting, and other real life situations that are surprisingly solved with a break dancing competition.

   Definitely danced for a spare tire on Hollywood and Vine. Totally worth it.

   More importantly, my stay in Los Angeles has proved to be almost totally superior to any place I’ve been in New York - with a mild exception to New York City, but that’s only because I never had money when I was there.

   Damn taxes.

   On the surface level, the weather of Los Angeles is nothing short of paradise. Sure, it’s warm to hot, but unlike New York, humidity is kept down.

   I assume by these guys.

   And the sights are even better. Thus far, I am guilty of doing the tourist thing - going to food joints, museums, talking loudly on my phone, using my phone as a camera, wearing sunscreen, etc - but it has been a great experience. Mostly on my stomach.

   I mean, when this is the burger tradition of the place you live in, you know you’re in for a crazy time.

   Amongst my tourist going time here, I have been to a great wonder of nature - the La Brea Tar Pits. Now, if you don’t about the Tar Pits, you need to do two things: the first being click the link, because I’m sure the internet will do a better job explaining it, historically. The second being hit yourself, because it’s pretty self-explanatory.

   It’s a fucking pit of sticky, black, don’t drink this, tar.

   That said, even though it was a very interesting sight, filled with plenty of educational facts and remains of animals that would have easily murdered the human race, there was one thing that really took my aback.

   It’s in the middle of fucking Los Angeles. People live near it. Note the house in the background. Ignore the elephant's plight.

   Now, here in the west coast of the country, it’s rather laid back. People wear what they want, talk how they want, and have a generally good, if not humoring demeanor about them. However, someone had to of been kidding around or just sadistic when they suggested that this is great property:

   Versus maybe living… just about anywhere else. I mean, the last thing I want to do is raise a family where there is a real risk of accidentally dropping food, clothes, toys, children, in a tar pit.

Note: the internet is a cruel place, but not cruel enough for me to find a picture of a child stuck in tar. Good internet.

   Problem? Yes. However, this kind of living situation does prove the residents of Los Angeles are more hardcore then those of New York.

   Well, maybe.

   The next place that has been a beautiful experience is Long Beach and it’s residing aquarium. The city itself is nothing short of breath taking, having all of the interests and excitement of a larger city, combined with all the TV drama stereotypes of beautiful people, excellent weather, and a great supply of beach to walk at sunset.

   Okay, so not totally like TV, but pretty close. 

   Not much can be said about Long Beach besides the obvious. However, if anyone ever says that California is more then its stereotypical beautiful women and good sun.

   Tell them Long Beach pretty much proves them wrong. 

Stay tuned for the third, and possibly final part of my intercontinental journey!

In New York State, Part Un

The readers that know who I am know that I have a strange relationship with the State of New York. Between the familial connection and the fact that I was raised here, I constantly find at least one thing wrong with destination every single day.

   The fact that sales taxes is collected and stored in these sacks is a deal breaker, yet endearing a la Scrooge McDuck.

    Yes, a duck with a pimp cane is our tax collector.

In an attempt to hide away from such metaphorical highway robbery, I have decided to flee to the west coast. Yet, even with my short time in Atlanta due to lay-over, I have noticed that not being in New York has all sorts of perks, unbeknownst to me.

Unfortunately, none of those perks involve seeing this come into my possession.

Staying with the financial theme, one big one is the change in sales tax. It is was refreshing to see the price of a candy bar and be able to say “yes, I will pay that amount” and then not have to be rung up for an extra ten percent. Granted, buying things in an airport is never a clear indicator of that place’s market, since every thing is more expensive anyway. Including the booze. Especially the booze.

The expense of booze was to deter pilot’s from drinking. Needless to say, it was a fun plane ride.

   Another great perk is when you find a special kind of person; you know, that one person that’s willing to talk to you about their travels and life. The person that is friendly and nice, and just wish to pass the time in the air interacting with someone. The person that is plain ignorant and gullible.

  Meeting someone with no sense of what the state of New York is like is a wonderful experience. To them, you are a rough, urban city dweller, that has much experience of the world, and lives in one of the most inspiring and dangerous places in the country. But really, they just think the entire state is a large city - and to prolong that thinking is not only hurtful to their intelligence, but is hilarious.

This is what gullible non-New Yorker actually believe New York state is.

  This is what New York state mostly consists of. Admittedly, New York City is pretty much our cornerstone of civilization, but we have other places. Just… not as impressive places. Actually, most other places are kind of sad. Especially between the cities of New York City and US Niagara Falls.

Within that blue section, it's pretty much depressing.

  However, I must say, that if the airport is indicative of the place I am, Atlanta is both massive and well kempt. Also, Never make fun of anyone with a Southern accent; Atlantean (maybe?) accents are special and rather tolerable. Depending on who is talking…

… it becomes a glorious thing. As opposed to hearing a certain other someone...

    He just sounds silly.

  Stayed tuned for the next part of this series - Things I am Not: In New York State Part Dos, Californian Boogaloo.

Good at Art (painting)

   By the time this sentence has been fully written (grammar not withstanding), you may or may not have realized that my sense of artistic ability is close to nil. No, it is nil. There is none. In fact, to show you, the reader, that I am no good at art, I will be showing you my personal attempts to emulate different forms of it. However, to save myself from some level of shame - not that I would actually be shamed, I'm just prejudice - the follow types of readers are not allowed to view this post:

   First, Art Critics (legitimate)

   Yes, all of you. The last thing I need is to have someone with a peacoat and a black turtleneck to be judging on the art I'm trying to emulate, as well as my emulation. Take your egos and your smugness out of this blog!

   This does include this guy, and people that look like this guy.

   Second, Hipsters.

   I'll deal with you in another post. But for the time being, get out. Just get the fuck out of my internet. And take your crappy beer with you too.

   Third, People who Actually like Art. This is mostly because you'll laugh at me otherwise, and that will hurt my feelings.

   Imma sensitive artist. Just look at those doe eyes.

   Now that that has been settled, allow me to unveil the first of many good arts:

   Ah yes, Master Van Gogh's self portrait. An excellent piece. A great example of careful placement, mindful color choice, and calculated perspective. Art well deserving the level of masterpiece.

   Mine? Only slightly disheartening.

   Now, I have put in the same (estimated) amount of time into my work. Some would say that it is an extremely accurate account of my portrait. However, those people have been swayed too much by my actual countenance, and have forgotten the fact that art never looks as good as the real thing. I mean, Van Gogh up there wasn't made of paint.

   Next up on the docket, a little Picasso, just to get crazy.

   Here is his rendition of the Mediterranean Landscape. Beautiful, however sharp. It's like I'm actually there, and still completely unaware of my perspective. Though the house looks very nice, and the boat is certainly a good touch; I'd say a 10 out of 10, mostly for creativity.

   But when I try it...

   Dammit. 

   This art thing is hard. I'll stop here for today, and will return again with what I hope to be better art skills, and more actual good art. But, there is one thing that does make me happy - 

   I'm almost certain I'm better at art than this guy.

   Speaking of art, comic-ing is an art form, and this guy has a pretty good foothold on that market. Please check out the better-then-mine art and plot of Patton Potatoes: Competitive Eater

A Fan of the 80s (Mullets)

    At least two days ago - time has been escaping me lately - I ran into a child in a school I was standing around in. This child, a little boy, was kind, polite and at peace, yet visibly and unconsciously tormented by incivility that I could only assume his parents put him through. Looking at him filled my heart with pain, as I knew he was too young to truly understand the wrongs that he had endured. If only he could understand the victimization he was unwittingly privy to.

   This boy had a mullet. A full blown, rat-tail included, 1980s mullet. 

   My only hope for the poor boy was that the man above was his father. I still pray for him.

   After seeing such a blind attack on hair, I began to wonder who would do such a thing to their own child. It quickly occurred to me that it could have been only one of two people: The Man, or...

   Barbarians. I began to investigate the wave of torment that brought on such a tactless act upon this child and children everywhere, and it all came down to one moment in American history - the 1980s. 

   If any of my readers at this moment were alive and fully capable of remembering these dark times, you understand the type of mindless existence that was considered normal during the 80s. The 80s as an era was full of uncivilized thinking and mob-mentality; totally unlike what we have today.

   Nope, definitely better now then it was then. 

   I use myself as an example of civility. I am everything the 80s never were. My being makes the 80s (and modern things) seem totally uncouth. To start, 80s fashion:

Katy Perry has worn crazier, I'll grant that.

   Absolutely ridiculous, and no self-loving creature on this planet would be proud of such a wardrobe. My fashion however, is the both the pinnacle of manliness and the excellence.

   As for cinema, I will admit that some good movies were released in the 80s. However, these are heavily outweighed and out-shined. Take a look at some "classic examples."

   Now, I know what you are thinking; "But you haven't made a film. You're not a director. You can't compare." Wrong. Amongst the things that I am, a movie maker is one of them. Unfortunately, my grammy winning film was destroyed directly before its worldwide release because of sabotage. While I don't know who did it, I know what I was replaced by.

   While the list could be considered endless, I feel my point has been made. What was the point you ask? That I am better then the 80s. And several of its largest movies stars. That and mullets are maddening. Never let your kid's barber give it a mullet. It's just abusive.

A Writer