jo-tel - Shut up THE JO-TEL I am dreaming

What if you had a universal remote ... that controlled your universe?
- Click movie ad

The only Adam-Sandler-oriented thing that is more annoying than a new self-produced Sandler/Schneider movie is a new big studio-contract Sandler movie. Like Click. You've seen the adds, they're everywhere. (Because the only way that sentient beings would watch a movie like this is if they are brainwashed ... like Anthony Perkins in The Manchurian Candidate....) Imagine this: a regular dude getting the power to control certain aspects of his life. Let's discuss the history of this concept. First there was that 80s sitcom where the girl could touch her fingers together and stop time, usually before a can of paint was about to spill on something (plus what was the deal with her dad talking to her through that glowing pyramid ... ). Fast forward to 2005 (delicious, delicious 2005) and Bruce Almighty where God, played by Morgan Freeman, gives Jim Carrey god-like powers to control his life (or at least I think this is what the movie was about ... I never saw it). And now - blam! - Click, wherein Adam Sandler uses his talismanic remote control to show down a big-titted jogger chick ... SO HE CAN CHECK OUT HER BOOBIES!! There's also a scene that I saw on the comercial that is so stupid it doesn't even make sense:

What does that ever MEAN? Look, Sandler, you're fucking up. I would be more willing to forgive your studio contract pics if the money you were making was going toward making something better than Bench Warmers. There's only so far Billy Madison, Happy Gilmore, and that "Just Join the Cult - They'll Give You a Free Haircut" skit can take you in my book. You're in a grand position to take some big comedic risks (oh ya, I really liked Punch Drunk Love ... nice job there...), but instead all we get is Eight Crazy Nights, basically an animated rehash of your Hanukkah song from SNL. Do you wanna be a buss boy for the rest of your life? Fine ... no ... just work it out OKAY - BYE - YOU ASSHOE!

Posted by Shark 2006-06-03 08:47:07

A Hip E. Classic

I haven't posted much of the great stuff from Pliska in Portland's bachelor party over Memorial Day weekend in South Lake Tahoe. Let me first say that it was a great time. But just to get something on the blog, I thought I would tell at least one story from last weekend before this weekend gets going.

After playing Blackjack next to Sammy Hagar's Cabo Wabo club in Harrah's for most of Sunday night, I finally went to the dance floor after losing all my money. It was late so there weren't many people left. Me, PETE, Johnny D., Raph and I, and a couple other guys were out there and these two chicks were out there and it turned into a funny-dancing party for the last ten minutes before they closed the club. So then everyone was walking out and Raph was trying to get those two girls to come back to our house. Long story short, at some point I overheard one of them saying "something something .. but first tell us a joke." Followed by a long pause when nobody said anything. I was thinking "somebody has to tell a joke." The only one I could think of was one Load had told me the day before, which was funny. Load's joke went like this:

A priest and a rabbi are walking down the street when they see a little boy walking the other way. The priest says, "Hey, you wanna fuck that kid?" and the rabbi is like "Sure. Out of what?"

Posted by Hip E. 2006-06-02 11:20:21

No No No No.. I'm a Rocketman

Posted by Hip E. 2006-06-02 10:12:46

Ladies and Gentlemen: The Quail

The dark days since the implosion of Professor Truth have been difficult for us all. The Cake Club appears to be taking it badly, as expected. But also, recently professed lover of PETE blog entries, Brittany Williams E., must also miss PETE's former opera-mate's (a.k.a The Quail's) erudite forays in social, political, and comedic commentary. Plus ... those thoughts on New Orleans ... such thoughts from just one man ... no words ... just brilliance ....

We at the jo-tel just couldn't let such talents go to waste. First and foremost, we're here to please. And no one pleases better than the Quail [FN1]. So everyone pull down your pants and panties and get ready for some hot hot Quail meat to post you into extasy. Youch! Hurts so good!

Posted by Shark 2006-05-29 09:14:51

A Conversation

PATSY: I have to pee really bad.
SHARK: So do it. You wanna play swords?
PATSY: But I don't have a penis to play swords with!

Posted by Shark 2006-05-29 09:06:30

Mini-Shark's Mini Adventure

Mini-Shark is my younger brother. I heard about this story from Soar Ass, who was up here last weekend for Bay to Boobers. Mini-Shark is an intern at a real estate firm. Apparently they asked him to come with them on a business trip and to bring some important documents that would be needed for a meeting. They were scheduled to go directly from the airport to the meeting.

Mini-Shark, not wanting to miss the all-important flight, set four alarm clocks. Legend has it that each of the alarm clocks, for one reason or another, failed to go off. When he awoke he realized that he was in grave danger of missing his flight. He grabbed his car keys and bolted out the door in his pajamas without packing or bringing anything with him except for the important documents. When he arrived at the airport, he pulled up to the white airport curb, locked his car, and took off to the gate. According to Soar Ass, as Mini-Shark was rumbling into the gate - just in time to make the flight - he heard a stringent warning over the airport P.A. regarding a grey Toyota that was illegally parked in the loading and unloading zone.

Posted by Shark 2006-05-27 10:00:36

Found: The "Hey Crackhead" of Photographs

Posted by Hip E. 2006-05-26 13:47:29

If I Would Have Known …: A Case Study in Fucking Up

Last Saturday night was an interesting night of swirling fuck-ups and bad choices for me. My plan was to pick Patsy up from work and drive to my office, where I hoped that her company and knack for organization would help to me get my office in order. As soon as I was on the Bay Bridge though, I realized that I had not brought my office keys. There was traffic on the bridge because of an accident. Patsy recommended getting off at Treasure Island and turning around. I had a dumber idea: to cross the bridge and go to the Best Buy in Emeryville where I could purchase a boom box for use at Bay to Breakers the next morning. After taking the first Emeryville exit, I quickly saw a Circuit City. It was about 9:45 and Patsy recommended that I just stop at the Circuit City. But I was determined to find the Best Buy. But, upon passing Circuit City, I was having some serious trouble finding the Best Buy. If I had known that I would not be able to find Best Buy, I would have gotten off at Treasure Island. I almost just parked at this little theatre complex area to call it a night and just watch a movie with Patsy, but I decided that I'd go back to the Circuit City. When I'd returned to Circuit City the store had just closed. If had known that I would not have been able to find Best Buy, I would have gone to Circuit City when I had first seen it, and when it was still open. I then decided to scrap the boom box and just head home. One I got on the 80 towards the bridge I was smacked with heavy traffic. I decided to get off at the last Oakland exit and return to the Emeryville theatre to watch a movie while the traffic died down. When we got back to the theatre and waited in line only to find that the 10:45 showing of The DaVinci Code had already sold out. Barring the option of seeing RV, this put an end our movie-watching plans. If had known that The Stupid DaVinci Code would sell out, I would not have returned to the Emeryville Theater. We then left the theatre to just return home. On the toll-plaza the traffic had gotten worse. We just sat through it. If I had known that traffic would not get better I would have just sat through it the first time. Once home, I sat down on the couch to relax, watch a movie, and leave the night behind. That's when I got a call from Hip E and Thrill telling me that they needed a ride home from a party in Berkeley. I had told them I could give them a ride on my way back from the office. But I didn't know that they were relying on me for a ride. If I had known, I would have picked them up while I was in Emeryville. On Monday morning I got into my car to drive to work. I realized that my bag with the keys to my office had been in my car the whole time. If I had known that I had my keys, none of this would have happened. Bleh.

Posted by Shark 2006-05-25 20:18:54

Concert Update

If I don't go to each of these shows, then let God smite me into a pillar of salt. (Yes, I can get saltier.)

06-08 - Portland, Berbati's Pan
06-09 - Seattle, Showbox
06-10 - Vancouver, British Columbia, Richard's on Richards
06-12 - San Francisco, Great American Music Hall
06-13 - San Francisco, Great American Music Hall

06-03 - Los Angeles, Troubadour,
06-04 - Pomona, Glasshouse
06-05 - San Francisco, Bottom of the Hill

06-10 - Portland, OR, Doug Fir Lounge
06-12 - SF, Bottom of the Hill
06-13 - SF, Bottom of the Hill
06-14 - West Hollywood, Troubadour

Posted by Shark 2006-05-25 19:58:19

Small World

As I was trolling through the 3500 or so pictures of Bay to Breakers on Flickr, getting more and more annoyed that there were none of me (remember, I am self-centered like a buddhist), I espied this picture of the girl (at right) who Patsy slept on during the bus ride home:

What are the chances? (Actually not that small considering that I've spent about eight hours in the last two days looking at B2B pics on Flickr.) What an awesome event. I have to say I think this has got to be one of the best parties in the whole world. It is what makes San Francisco San Francisco. The only way it could be better is if it happened twice a year.

Continuing on, a page or two later I saw this shot, taken by the same dude. This is a picture of 1st-floor Jo-telier Soper (in picnic tablecloth), the guy who bought the shopping cart off the homeless dude:

So that's kind of odd right there. But THEN, in the same batch of pictures, I found this one, of the guy taking all these pictures (right) right next to a guy from my high school class who I didn't even know was living in San Francisco (left). And that, my friends, is what I call a Small World.

Posted by Hip E. 2006-05-23 17:00:41

Just Because I'm Naked Doesn't Mean You Can Slap My Ass (B2B 2006)

My ass is sore today. This is because certain people believe that the fact that my ass is bare entitles them to slap it. And I'm not just talking about playful slaps. I'm talking about hardcore, red-hand-mark-leaving ass slaps. And then there was Steven Soper, who punched my ass with clenched fist. Not sure what that was about really. It's great, though, when you're reminded of doing something like mounting a packed Trojan horse with nothing more than a pair of Vans sneakers on. I also remember asking which one of them was Odysseus. No one knew what the fuck I talking about. I think all they saw was wang. Too bad Johnny D had already taken the noon train to Lady A-ville. He could have snapped a few pictures.

I commend you though, Johnny D. You managed to negotiate the situation so that you could attend B2B for half the day and help your girlfriend move for the other half. There's nothing lame about that. Except that it's TOTALLY LAME! Your girlfriend should not be moving during B2B, she should be AT B2B. And don't think that we'd get too drunk to notice your escape. No. B2B is not to be half-assed. The implications of half-assing are dangerous. It must be started before Market Street and it must end in a drunken, naked, no-ride-home predicament in Outer Sunset. Anything less is not a Jo-tel B2B.

Posted by Shark 2006-05-22 21:11:45

Bay 2 Breakers: One For The Record Boobs. I Mean "Books."

Another successful Bay To Breakers was executed this weekend. I have a terrible memory so I'm not going to attempt a rundown right now, but here are some major points of interest: Our motley crew of seven Arab Sheiks, six infantile members of the Underage Drinking Sosiety, one sexy bavarian wench, and three or four people with no costumes whatsoever hit a major snag at the starting line when it turned out all our beer cart tires were flat. One team set off to fill up at a nearby gas station while Soper crossed the street in his King Fazu outfit and bought a shopping cart off of a homeless dude for $20. I knew it was going to be a good day. Doubly carted, we set off up the hill. Contrary to the weatherman's hate speech, the weather was absolutely perfect. The kickball team made an appearance early onlooking festive in their pirate/80's prom ladies/speedo tuxedo regalia. We started giving and taking keg stands near the top of the Hayes hill. Ran into Becky B. at the top followed closely by Ohio Mike, who, despite never having met Becky before that afternoon, had just been blocking for her while she copped a squat in the park. Small world. We continued on, running over the ankles of countless innocent bystanders. Shark lost the diaper near the entrance to the park; Patsy pulled mine off near the De Young. Speaking of da young, in the panhandle when Reid was looking for a likely bush to whiz in, he was warned by a police officer that if he peed near the children's playground that would make him a sex offender. It is always weird when you are peeing in a bush on a sunny day in the middle of a major city and people are walking by with their children. Of course, immediately after the diaper was lost I ran into three more kickball teammates. My apologies to Walter, Brooke, and Salty - I hope you don't have to see that image every time I come up to bat for the rest of the season. There's a chance that they were drunk enough to forget. Other things that happened:

Posted by Hip E. 2006-05-22 10:53:32

Apparently Keane Fs Me In the A With Awesomosity...

If you think it's easy for a community of music listeners to create an accurate tally of their favorite bands, then just check out that usually defunct left hand column on Pitchfork (they've got Seu Jorge, but no friggin Islands???). So, ya, I admit, this rarely consulted side column of the jo-tel has become a non-factor. I mean, I'm sorry, but I don't like Keane at all so that makes it kind of hard for them to f me in the a with awesomosity. (But, if they did, it would probably feel pretty great.) And I don't think anyone really knows who I Am the World Trade Center are.

So, to remedy the situation, I hope to convene all jo-tel residents this week to go through all the bands on Johnny D's computer and, limiting our selection to those bands that have released albums in the last two years, make a comprehensive list of modern bands that we really like, and Creed. Bands that garner unanimous praise will be starred and bolded. Then afterwords, if you like, you may touch the hem of whatever garment I am wearing.

Posted by Shark 2006-05-18 19:32:22

Select Conversations from Our Weekend at Tawonga Since Hip E Won't Get Off His Ass and Post Some Photographs.

PETE: Hey Snake, do you guys have, like, a softball team or something? Like where you play other camps around the lake
SNAKE: No, why?
PETE: You should totally get one. You could call yourselves the Tawonga Yo-Semites!
HIP E.: Yeah! And you guys could make shirts that say on the front "Camp Tawonga" and on the back they say "Yo! Semite!"
SNAKE: ... okay.

PETE: Hey Snake, how about we roll up on of those [tobacco cigarettes]?
SNAKE: Dude! I still can't find those papers. I looked everywhere.

10 minues later

JPHNNY D: Hey Snake, are these what you were looking for? [takes off shoe, reaches inside, pulls out package of papers]
SNAKE: Where did you find those!!
JOHNNY D: In my shoe.
SNAKE: I looked there!

SNAKE: I think that's just like, an urban legend, dude.
HIP E.: No, man - somebody told me that.

REID: Hey guys... at what age do you think girls start referring to their vaginas as their "noo noos"?
EVERYONE: ...
REID: You guys never heard of that?

Posted by PETE 2006-05-17 00:26:12

A Scene from an Episode of Scrubs that Has Yet To Be Filmed

DOCTOR: We I have some good news and I have some bad news.
GUY WITH GIANT CAST ON HIS ARM: Okay what's the good news?
DOCTOR: ... Okay I really only have bad news. It's just doctors say that all the time.
GWGCOHA: So what's the bad news?
DOCTOR: Your arm is going to be horribly disfigured.
GWGCOHA: I see.
DOCTOR: But I just want to let you know, you do have the option to amputate...
GWGCOHA: Uh... so wait? The arm isn't going to be functional?
DOCTOR: Oh no... Fully fuctional. Just... disfigured.
GWGCOHA: What? What the hell kind of choice is that? Obviously I want to keep both my arms. I mean, who cares if it's disfigured?
DOCTOR: But... well it's going to look pretty ugly. I mean, you're leaving yourself open to a lot of ridicule here. And the ladies... The ladies are probably not going to want to come near that thing.
GWGCOHA: I can't believe you're even saying this! IT'S AN ARM! It's useful in any number of ways. I like using a knife and fork to eat. I like being able to open the door to my apartment with an armful of groceries. I like doing push-ups.
DOCTOR: Well one-arm push-ups--
GWGCOHA: I WANT TO KEEP THE ARM! GOD! What... I mean I'm really at a loss here. What kind of person would voluntarily give up a functioning apendage just because it's going to be unattractive??

DOCTOR:
GWGCOHA: ...
DOCTOR: John Stamos?
GWGCOHA: ... Below the elbow only right?

Posted by PETE 2006-05-17 00:12:00

Top Ten Favorite Novels

So ... novels ... good times. Almost as important as mis-attributed popular download songs. Almost.

For a while, I thought that my top ten favorite novels would be a huge production, replete with naked breast nipple cap spinners and esoteric discussions of the place of the novel in literature. (I hope you don't think that you would have escaped this discussion without me mentioning Faulkner's famous, probably drunken statement to his students as the University of Mississippi that "I first tried to write poetry and upon failing that, I tried to write short stories, and failing there too I settled upon the novel." I hope you didn't think that you would have avoided that because ... you haven't EVEN avoided it because I just said it. I just did.) But, as it is, I'm feeling donne (and a bit drunk) and I'm just going to whip this little bitch of a momentous list out like it's my job. I've been reading since I was two, bitch:

While Ginsberg was reading "Howl," Kerouac was taking "slugs from the jug" and encouraging others to do the same. Kerouac remains the literary wet-dream of every creative drunkard who ever took a literature class in college. He was cooler that any of us will ever be. His writing resembles the smooth talk of the jock that's on top of the world. Instead, instead of hanging around jocks, Kerouac hung around progressive literary lights like Ginsberg, Snyder, and Whalen. The Dharma Bums is his most exuberant book - the one where Kerouac climbs up the mountain and gets scared and then goes to Big Sur to hang out in Henry Miller's old cabin where kids arrive to mock him but he comes to the door in a robe and says "I am the ghost!" and the kids, just being kids, are scared away.

NOTE: Shards from Conrad's Heart of Darkness have broken off into many parts of my life. It barely even seems like a single novel anymore. There's something about guns firing from the forest ... and then stopping. There's not enough rivet joints I think. Oh, oh, and there's a photographer who I believe is played by Dennis Hopper. You know, "DON'T YOU FUCKING LOOK AT ME." Right, that guy.

PLEASE: Don't think that Heart of Darkness is worse than The Plague. It's not. I mean, actually, I have no idea. The only reason that I put The Plague higher is that I also really really lurve The Stranger, but I have a problem putting two books from the same author on this already stingingly short list. The Plague sucks.

THERE'S A NEW INDIE ROCK BAND CALLED THE HORRER THE HORROR, WITH NO EXCLAMATION POINTS, AND THEIR ALBUM IS CALLED THE HORROR THE HORROR: Hmm.

"Of such importance to our time that to dismiss it would be to blaspheme against the human spirit," says The New York Times Book Review.

Very high up, the light clouds passed above the dark pine trees, and little by little became absorbed in the sky.

Malraux's La Condition Humane (translated, with artistic liberties, as Man's Fate) is a force to be reckoned with. It chooses as the backdrop for its psychological, political, social, economic, historical, philosophical, literary, and cultural insights the darkly chaotic period of Chinese history after World War II, when the Nationalists, led by Chiang Kai-shek [good old Chiang "Shanghai" Kai-shek - Hip E.], had joined forces with the upstart Communist party to repel the Japanese. Man's Fate begins in the volatile period when Shanghai merchants were rioting and a national force was needed to quell the unrest. The Communists viewed the nationalist's decision not to seek assistance from the Communists as a call to arms. As such, the rebellion that marred the coastal town on those fateful days was actually the first volley of the war for control of the world's largest nation. The Communists actually won. But Malraux portrays them here in their darkest days: nothing more than a motley group of revolutionaries forced to throw their lives like currency at the vague and uncertain goal of class revolution in a country that lacked even a competitive industrial base. Importantly, though, Malraux is careful to accurately portray this modern China in its contrast to the China of old, personified in the old, opium-addicted professor Gisors. The resignation of this jaded older class glows in the light of dusk as it shines through the opium smoke that rises from the pipes of their greatest leaders. By the end of the novel, the withdrawal to opium is the only salve to what seems like a pointless and futile waste of life. Man's Fate could have stumbled by portraying these stories with a mind toward what would actually happen - namely, that these efforts would be instrumental in the Communist party's rise to power. But, at the time, the Communists seemed done for. As for many of these who lost their lives during the events of Man Fate's - those who closed their eyes to the bomb smoke that filled the sky for the last time - life left without a resolution, but with a warm, dying feeling of throwing one's breast against a darkened post with no idea of the effect one's last flight would have on the strange new millennium, figuratively speaking.

On Hip E.'s first date with Linda, he took her to dinner. I think. At least, I remember coming from class and seeing them both on the couch. They were watching something like The Simpsons. I returned to my room to study and realized that Hip E. had managed to go on a date with that hot chick that we went camping with. I returned to the TV room about an hour later. Hip E. and Linda were still on the couch, but now they were watching an episode of Full House. I came just in time to hear Hip E. reading from Blood Meridian, the book raised, open, to his eyes like a religious text and Linda vacillating between watching Uncle Jesse deal with the dilemma caused by his solo record deal and listening to Hip E.'s ridiculously inappropriate favorite-thing mongering: "This record deal is my big chance! What, leave Uncle Joey behind!!!! But he's the CUT, IT, OUT guy! No way, no way ... you know what, I decline that record deal ... [schmaltzy music] ... thanks cous'... hey, that what's family is for ... [credits]" ... Linda returns to Hip E.'s reading ... "War is god..." Then Hip E took her back to his room and played Masters of the Banjo, an often grating compilation of crotchety, premier banjo players. Then they, miraculously, hooked up, cementing Linda's reputation as an easy lay. [The broad outline of this story is true, but almost none of the details. Much like Blood Meridian itself. These details work just as well though. - Hip E.]

Hemmingway established himself in literary circles for his taut prose more than for his stories themselves. Just read The Sun Also Rises - nothing really happens. But the interest of the prose itself is enough to make that book, for instance, remarkable:

            We walked arm in arm down the street away from the crowd and the lights of the square. The street was dark and wet, and we walked along it to the fortifications at the edge of town. We passed wine shops with light coming from their doors onto the street.
           "Want to go in?"
            "No."

The Sun Also Rises was written the same year as W. Somerset Maugahm's On Human Bondage, which contains the following lines:

The young green of the trees was exquisite against the sky; and the sky, pale and blue, was dappled with little white clouds. At the end of the ornamental water was the grey mass of the Horse Guards. The ordered elegance of the scene had the charm of an eighteenth century picture. It reminded you not of Watteau, whose landscapes are so idyllic that they recall only the woodland glens seen in dreams, but of the more prosaic Jean-Baptiste Pater. Philip's heart was filled with lightness. He realized, what he had only read before, that art (for there was art in the manner in which he looked up nature) might liberate the soul from pain.

The difference is simple: Maugham tells you why the scene is beautiful, Hemmingway tells you the scene. Is it beautiful? "Hemmingway, what was the street like?" "Wet." "Maugham, what was the street like." "Exquisite in its shimmering, moon-lit wetness."

Now, lest this blurb turn into a Maugham bashing session (I like Maugham), let me say that I feel that neither of these methods is "right." But Hemmingway's is particularly intriguing because of its effectiveness. Here's a illustration: while everyone in the jo-tel was crooning Neutral Milk Hotel at the top of their lungs and amending their top twenty-five album lists to include In the Aeroplane Over the Sea over even their high school album love affairs, Patsy remained defiant: his voice is weird, I don't like it. Was his voice weird? Sure. But Neutral Milk Hotel FUCKIN' RULES!!!! Yet, Patsy was resistant because I was telling her it was good and that was all she could hear. I prevented her from being able to make the music her own personal experience. And what Hemmingway teaches you is that art is only effective to the extent that it inspires a personal reaction from the recipient. "This is my art," the cherishing recipient thinks. It's really easy to agree with your friends that the utterly unknown Lederhosen Lucil is a great artist. It pretty easy to agree with Pitchfork that Love Is All is a great band. But it's really hard for me to want to get into the Artic Monkeys. The Arctic Monkey are not my art. Hemmingway tells you that the street is dark and wet and nothing more and that street becomes your street because the adjectives "dark" and "wet" get your imagination running and everything else is yours. Beautiful yours. Like in your bed on a Saturday morning with nothing to do. "Do you want to drive to work?" "No."

There's got to be some hot 13 y/o girls in this town

One thought always runs through my head when I'm reading a book by Nabokov, and that thought is: you (Shark) will never never never never never never never never be able to write as well Nabokov.

Lolita is, perhaps above all, a playful novel. It is one of the most fun books I've ever read. Yet here is its plot: A college professor harbors an uncontrollable lust for very young girls that resemble a girl he once loved in his youth but who died before he could have sex with her. He finds one such girl and feigns an attraction to her mother to get close to the girl. When the mother dies in a freak car accident, it is all he can do to refrain from rejoicing as he snatches the girl up and drives her around the country having sex with her. He then settles in New England where he teaches high school and obsesses over more young girls. The girl eventually escapes with the help of another pedophile who has been pursuing the main pedophile all along. The girl ends up marrying a penniless factory worker and dying in childbirth.

But Nabokov retreats so giddily into the obsessive brain of Humbert Humbert that we have no choice but to enjoy the intellectual fireworks. The farcification of such a drab storyline is the hidden charm of the book - Nabokov challenges us to not enjoy the brilliant, eccentric musing of a bad, yet interesting, man, and we fail everytime. Because in Lolita, the author proves that his knack for intellectual word dances and winding thematic playgrounds is too great to be destroyed by even the most downtrodden of stories. Whether we should see this as dangerous or lovely is the open question that Nabokov will not answer, placing, as a result, each of his books in a cheerfully a-social nether world of literary apathy.

3. Marcel Proust - A la recherché du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time)

A well worn child's toy, Swann's Way sits, disregarded, recaptured, raptured once again, at the end of the shelf, its orange spine whitened.

Within a Budding Grove, sheltered from the snow in the cleanness of winter, is spoiled, loved, and pristine still.

The Mission district's summer heat has made The Guermantes Way jaded and creased - a curmudgeon looking down, with its purple, spine-bent hardness, on the soft, green colors.

When the ocean's morose blue is seen through the eyes of a mysterious sadness that dances in the cheeks of a plump obsession, the unknown tormenters, along those sea-bound shores, will release The Captive.

Janus-faced, The Fugitive has a torrid past - but through it all its light shines from the shore, a beacon into the deep ocean night.

The excited holiday bleeds the ruddiest red movement into the busy square where the happy hardness celebrates, like a requiem, Time Regained.

Camus didn't talk about his admiration for Kafka as an author. His comments reveal that, for him, Kafka's writings were more than just novels and short stories, they were primary sources for the study of the absurd. I mean, here we are, at number two of my goddamn important top ten novels list and I've got a friggin' unfinished novel as numero dos. Here's a hint though: it's not really a novel. The Trial, along with the equally intriguing The Castle, is more of a journal.

Kafka was a functionary. He was smart, yet never aspired to anything more than serving as the modern day equivalent of a paralegal. Instead, he used his free time to write. He enjoyed reading his works to friends, including Max Brod, who would later violate his express wish to destroy all of his non-published works. The Trial was one of those books. Could there be a better novel to illustrate the absurd?

There is a story that Kafka was at an informational meeting of some sort relating to his job, and at one point, he just started to laugh hysterically. He just couldn't stop laughing. Kafka saw something. He saw things from a skewed perspective and his books have the consequentially amazing ability to seem, at once, utterly foreign and yet as universal as everyone's bad dreams. Indeed, we're all there: on the outskirts of town, expired, out of hope, a knife in our chest, turning twice, like a dog. Fittingly.

Posted by Shark 2006-05-15 06:52:08

Criterion Collection, I'm Not Sure If You're a Valuable Resource or If You're Screwing Me Over

I wanted to write to express my feelings for you. I'll be honest, I vacillate as to my opinion of your effect on my ability to watch movies. My ambivalence is the result of your ability to both enable and prevent my viewing of classic, obscure movies. For instance, you performed an invaluable task by re-mastering Fellini's 8 1/2. In particular, you restored the aspect ratio and you eliminated the maddening white subtitles that faded into the white foreground of every other shot in the previous version. However, in return for these good deeds, you've raised the price of the film so as to make it prohibitively expensive. Indeed, the only reason I own 8 1/2 is because my mom bought it for me as a Christmas present. Otherwise, no way in hell I would have parted with 40 + bones - no movie is that good (not even 8 1/2). Are your services really that valuable, Criterion Collection, or are you just screwing me over? Is that you I see, next to Bruckheimer, sipping a cocktail by a dollar-shaped pool laughing at the saps that paid money to see Kangeroo Jack or purchased Blood of a Poet for 40 dollars? I mean, you did buy Armaggedon, Criterion Collection, there's no denying that. But I don't want to seem too salty now. Without you it would have been impossible to collect all of Trauffaut's Antoine Doinel film's (oh sweet, Antoine and Collette, obscure short, you are now mine!). And you're probably going to make my day when you release a non-dubbed version of Day for Night (fingers crossed), but for now I am doomed to view your top shelf movies like Ran, Alphaville, and Burden of Dreams longingly through the shop glass, my hot, yearning breath fogging the window in front of me. There's the rub, Criterion Collection, what good are your restorations and your features and your exquisite packaging if the costs of these riches is my inability to experience them? There are no simple answers, Criterion Collection. And I don't venture to tellyou your business. I would just like you to think of me next time you decide to price a movie like Night and the City at 38 dollars. And perhaps, with my sad face in your head, your hand will magnanimously slip and you will price Renais's classic at 25 dollars, at which point, on a good day, I might even purchase it.

Sincerely, Shark 2006-05-15 19:24:33

Conversations (while watching Last of the Mohicans)

REID: Rape these bitches already!

***

SOPER: Daniel Day-Lewis, come on baby!

***

HIP E: This is one of the best soundtracks in the history of movies.
JOHNNY D: Is Katon here?

Posted by Shark 2006-05-15 06:52:08

Overt Intellectualism as Territorial Pissing

I was at the good movie rental place yesterday [FN1] and there was a scrawny dude with long hair in his face bent over the Werner Herzog section and pontificating to his female guest about how Fitzccaraldo is probably Herzog's greatest film because it is so much grander than Aguirre: The Wrath of God while I - innocently seeking out, in the next isle over, a DVD or VHS copy of Billy Wilder's definitive film noir Double Indemnity, which I had recommended that Patsy view in furtherance of her paper on film noir as an inversion of Joseph Campbell's "journey of the hero" - was momentarily incapacitated as I stared with morbid and furious interest at this filmic curio in the adjacent isle who, I must admit, exhibited an impeccable array of facts, albeit in service of a questionable conclusion (Aquierre is certainly the better film), such that I was jostled by Patsy and told not to stare so blatantly, an admonition that would have ended the interaction if the aforementioned long-haired had not gone one step further in his assault on the patience of his female companion by adding, almost begrudingly, that it even spawned the best documentary about the making of a film (by which I assume he meant Burden of Dreams [FN2]), at which point I nearly piped up and informed him of his mistake because, certainly, anyone who had viewed Heart of Darkness: A Filmmaker's Apocalyse regarding the making of Apocalypse Now would recognize this as the best film made about the making of a movie - he must have forgotten this one when he made his statement - but I was instructed to refrain from this confrontation by my girlfriend (who I obey) even though a strange desire was dawning over me to engage in some sort of intellectual violence against this well-meaning savant, taking him in a headlock and hitting him over the head with an out-of-print VHS edition of David Lynch's Eraserhead, the blows striking in tandem with my taunting assertion that he had probably never ever seen Eraserhead and this violent reverie made me realize that intellect-mongering is just as primal a task as crafting death tools out of rock or running a business, which is interesting to think about.

Posted by Shark 2006-05-10 18:43:16

FN1: It has a separate Criterion Collection section (see above post for more details regarding my feeling on the Criterion Collection)
FN2: This is a Criterion Collection DVD. Hip E., please Netflix this movie.

The Jo-Tel, now with more bandwidth and occasionally PETE maybe

Long lost Jo-Telier PETE here, fresh off another 13 -plus hour day working for Mrs. Huffington. As many of you may have noticed recently, the Jo-Tel was shut down by editme for exceeding our monthly bandwidth limit of 1000MB for the month of April. I have no idea what bandwidth is, nor do I know how we use it, but I basically have two theories. 1) We're getting tons of visitors lately, none of which are me I might add, because I never have time to post about how I've gone totally Hollywood and how I party with Tom Freston and Robert Evans and, evidently, the guy who runs HBO. It seems however, that like moths to a flame, unique visitors have flocked to the Jo-Tel, despite it's absence of my trademark mixed metaphors and misplace apostrophes. Um... oh yeah. 2) The video Hip E. posted of Thrill trying to make out with me. I think I head somewhere once, or read that streaming video uses a lot of bandwidth. Think about it... Doesn't the following sentence sound right?

"All those video clips I posted really did a number on my bandwidth."

Whatever the issue was, hopefully it has been remedied by my upgrading our account from the "basic" $5/mo plan to the "standard" $10/mo plan which, amongst other features which I don't really care about because I have no idea what they mean (Hey everyone we've got https and SSL!!! Fuck Yeah! Tits!), we get a whole 3000MB of bandwidth.

We also get custom domain names which I guess means, if I can figure it out, we'll be able to start using www.jo-tel.com. At which point JASKOT can maybe get off his ass and build us a real site.

Also, all you people that are evidently reading this site can you PLEASE email thejotel@gmail.com and tell us how you found us. I mean, tell us exactly which variation of Jamie Lynn Spears's name you punched into the Google image search.

Okay. My job is done. See you guys in like, 2 weeks.

Sincerely,

Hollywood

Posted by PETE at some point but then he came back to try and post again and he discovered much to his chagrin that the formatting was all fucked up so he had to grab everything and paste it into a plain text document and reformat it and Shark's novel post will still be fucked up probably but PETE doesn't care because he just got like 15 new albums courtesy of Shark and Johnny D's eMusic accounts.

Comments:

Hollywood... Always up to no good.

I think you mean two 6" dropped on his ass.

ladies and gentlemen... the Queen of Hearts!

Hip E thinks having 26 dropped on his ass feels pretty great.

then no, Williams E is not missing that boring shit like she misses the PETE posts...PETE you're hot. I think I will go to your myspace and oogle you now.

wait who is the Quail?

Please Sir, step down off the box.

Is that you, God? By the way if you exist then do something in the next 2 minutes that cannot possibly be misconstrued or explained as a natural occurance, and couldn't possibly have any meaning other than that you actually exist and are as advertised in some book (and please specify the book) and then I will totally read the book and follow all the rules from here on out. Especially the rules that contradict the other rules. Otherwise, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing. And if you don't like it, lightning bolt me or something.

While jokes about Nietzch E. saying "God is dead" are funny -- really, really funny -- I recommend jokes about Shark matching IP addresses.

That made sense, right?

MUUUUUSTTTT RESSSSTRRAINNNN FROOOOOMMMMM OBBBBVVIOUSS JOOOOOOOKEEE ----- screw it:

Thrill, pretending he's Shark ... AGAIN.

I can read and match IP addresses!

Thrill pretending he's Nietzsche ... AGAIN.

Shut up, deadman ... Thrill did nothing of the sort.

God was borrowing Johnny D.'s computer.

I can think of a few other things not holding their water ... I left a mop in your room.

I highly recommend the book The End of Faith by Sam Harris. Although, at the end, he starts pimping Buddhism as the rational version of religion, which is what I was referring to in my comment. I disagree with you Thrill - I think Buddhists acknowledge the idea of the Self and, like you said, dedicate themselves to overcoming it, getting rid of it, or "realizing" that it was all an illusion to begin with. And then you can stop worrying about getting reincarnated as a caterpillar and get into Nirvana. Look, meditation is cool, and it is useful. But I just completely disagree with the stated goal of transcending the idea that you exist separately from the rest of the universe. I think there is not a higher consciousness that we all belong to in any practical sense. I'm pretty damn sure that there is no everlasting circle of reincarnation that we need to escape from. These ideas are just as fanciful, ancient, and silly (now that we know a lot more about the universe than when they were thought up) as the fairy tale ideas of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.

I think Buddhism is the best of the major religions, because it is the least harmful. Also, meditating is almost always good for people. Also, realizing that we are all, in a sense, part of a much larger system of things is beneficial. But what people really need to transcend is the idea that you have to have a religion to be a good person, an effective person, or a happy person.

The Jo-Tel - Now with less Pete.

While I admit that leaving B2B was somewhat lame. I had a good reason for leaving and Aubry had an equally good reason for not going. Could someone, for Krishna's sake publicly humiliate Thrill for not even making an attempt to wake up for the event???

Thanks for backing me up Thrill & MauPow. BTW, speaking of small world, I ran into MauPow's ex, Suzanne, on the metro here in Washington, DC. I had no idea she lived here. So random. Also, Hip E. I have some reading suggestions for you which--as a scientist and an avid book reader--I definitely think you'd enjoy and might give some clarity on science's roll in metaphysics

Amit Goswami - "The Self-Aware Universe" (he's a professor at the Univ. of Oregon)
David Hawkins - "Power v. Force"
Lynne McTaggart - "The Field: Quest for the Secret Force of the Universe"
Masuro Emoto - "The Hidden Messages in Water"

Maupow's right, Hip: Buddhism is the pursuit of non-attachment (Dhiravamsa wrote a good book about that: "The Way of Non-Attachment"...you should borrow it sometime), with the end goal being Nirvana/the escape from the circle of life-death-rebirth through enlightenment. That's easily misunderstood from our Western point of view of The Self, which we take for granted but which (as Maupow mentioned) Buddhism teaches is a misconception. The misconception is further confused by words: introspection and "insight meditation" imply that one is meditating into one's "self" when in actuality (according to Buddhism) you're meditating in order to look into the higher consciousness, not your own.

Dhiravamsa refers to meditation as "Cutting down the forest but not a single tree" ... meaning that meditating is the act of breaking down the complicating influences that bar us from enlightenment: cutting down the "forest" of complicating influences but leaving the "tree" of essence (the higher consciousness).

Buddhism, man ... whoa.

But hippie, 'self-destruction' isn't the goal either, since the teachings of buddha would tell us that much like spoons, there is no self. You cannot destroy what does not exist, instead a buddhist seeks only to destroy the notion that there is a self separate from anything else in the universe and through that eventual realization free themselves from desire and the suffering that is existence.

Also, it's not a 'rational version of religion'? Where in happy-magic land does such a thing exist?

Also, also, you're really going to sit there and tell me that meditating on the nature of the universe is on par with dunking your face into a hat to stare at your favorite peep stone to translate golden plates, the ones that the angel gave you, because said angel didn't give you the magic glasses this time? I can't believe where I live....

Indeed, the ultimate goal in Buddhism of loss or destruction of the self is ultimately its downfall as a rational version of religion. Feeling at one with the universe through combinations of mediation and drugs can be fun in small doses, but to make permanent "self-destruction" the goal of your conscious efforts on a daily basis is just as insane as anything the Mormons have to offer. Buddhism looks great compared to Christianity because in practice its effect is to make people more in touch with themselves, the world, and other people and aware of how everything is in some sense connected. But, like Christianity and Islam, the underlying world view is fairy tale that, when taken seriously, is detrimental. Buddhism is still better though because fundamentalist Buddhists only cancel themselves out of the equation of life, rather than killing a bunch of abortion doctors or Jews.

Hip E., your comment that you're "self-centered like a Buddhist" is inaccurate. Through meditation and connection with Cosmic Consciousness, Buddhists actually come to the realization that they are one with the Infinite--thereby shedding all egoistic notions of "self." It would be more accurate to say that Buddhists are "selfless," but then your comment would be erroneous because you're about as far from that as possible.....San Francisco yuppies.....sheesh!

Reid, sorry for the response delay. Haven't been frequenting the Jo-tel now that PETE doesn't write as much (thats right! he was my preferred author) and I have a steady MYSPACE posse to keep me unproductive at work....

ANYWAY. Shasta weekend was finally settled for as Sept 14/15th-17/18th...cheaper, just as hot, with a longer stay. I was going to send out a new email immediately upon all of our returns from the Tahoe/Vegas trips this weekend.

Tell Hip to send me your email address. Fairly certain I don't have it.

I'd just like to point out that when Shark emailed me yesterday, saying "Patsy took her shirt off???", he was not joking. He actually didn't remember.

Lady A: Oh Jonathan. Prithee, help me move this holy day. Yea, the Lord's day it shall truly be when we transporteth my personal effects via motor-wagon to my new abode down in yonder dew-bespeckled valley. Oh, how the sun shall shine on our love!

Johnny D: Uh... But Bay 2 Breakers in on Sunday, gentle wench.

Lady A: Oh! Woe and ado! Forsake me not, sweet Jonathan! Oh these boxes, they are burdensome. They weigh heavy upon my back and my mind alike, even unto my very spirit they take their toll! And this shelf I got on sale at Ikea is deceptively heavy.

Johnny D: Uh... okay.

Lady A: Oh... you hath made be the most joyous damsel in the land! My glee doth overflow, that even the farest reaches of the orient shall be wet with it. Perhaps later thou canst clasp my bodice in your iron grip!

I totally found all of those books in a book market under the bridge that takes you over the thames to westminster. So I bought them to read on my journey!

Shark, good list...it made me to pick up reading for pleasure again (Jailbird by Vonnegut, good times), and your number one is consensus between you and me. That said, you forgot or failed to realize that in fact we are all Mjr. M. M. Major, wearing fake glasses with mustache being shoved around on purpose by people who know its really us....also, I'm drunk in Ann Arbor.

P.S. Shark is the only person I know who spells 'yeah' 'ya'.

BRITT...what is the official weekend of Shasta? Do we need to send you cash. I only write this b/c HipE and Shark suck at communicating those things

I bet that fire smelled like Hip E.'s room

One of my best friends growing up burned down the house Lolita was written in. Not on purpose. He lost everything...and burned down a historical landmark. It was a bad day.

And we were on the couch, not coach. No Craig T. Nelson that night.

Hip E - It was totally Marin. PS I have your copy, the one I thought I left at the Semite lodge.

Shark - Third(ish) date. But I wouldn't say "took" me so much as "we went."

Burdon of Dreams has indeed been on my Netflix queueueue for several months, but it's one of those movies that when I look through my Netflix queueue to see what I've got lined up and what needs to be moved to the top of the list, I invariably cannot remember that Burdon of Dreams is the documentary about the making of Fitzcaraldo, and it just sounds like some crappy movie about dreaming and crying, and I move it back in the queueue behind Physics: The Elegant Universe: Disc 2, The Leopard (Original Italian Version) and Reform School Girls, none of which I will ever watch because I'm going to cancel Netflix and join the gym again.

Thanks, Stickler. I'll let you know if I start another one in the future. I appreciate that you had me linked.

I got rid of Professor Truth.

Shark you are so super smart.......wow, share more of your amazing worthless movie trivia with me

What happened to Prof. Truth?

Pliska, now that I don't have my own blog, I have to do SOMETHING!

Wow, those pics sure are coming soon. Is Will running the Jo-tel now?

Welcome back Jo-Tel. Im so excited it is all new and improved!

Well Done PETE,

I'll be sending you a check soon. In the meantime, my gmail is not working, so here is what I was going to email the Network:

REBECCA (Scientologist): Woody, could you watch my cat?
WOODY: Sure, Ms. Howe. I've always been great with animals. At least, until... the Incident.
REBECCA: Never mind.

FRASER: Woody, would you babysit my son?
WOODY: Sure. In Hannover, people used to have me babysit for them all the time. At least, until... the Incident.
FRASER: Never mind.

NORM: Woody, that's amazing! You can get out of doing anything! That's brilliant!
WOODY: Yeah. I wish I'd thought of that before the Incident.

Shut up THE JO-TEL I am dreaming

Click Poised To Be Worst Movie Ever

Posted by Shark 2006-06-03 08:47:07

A Hip E. Classic

Posted by Hip E. 2006-06-02 11:20:21

No No No No.. I'm a Rocketman

Posted by Hip E. 2006-06-02 10:12:46

Ladies and Gentlemen: The Quail

Posted by Shark 2006-05-29 09:14:51

A Conversation

Posted by Shark 2006-05-29 09:06:30

Mini-Shark's Mini Adventure

Posted by Shark 2006-05-27 10:00:36

Found: The "Hey Crackhead" of Photographs

Posted by Hip E. 2006-05-26 13:47:29

If I Would Have Known …: A Case Study in Fucking Up

Posted by Shark 2006-05-25 20:18:54

Concert Update

Posted by Shark 2006-05-25 19:58:19

Small World

Posted by Hip E. 2006-05-23 17:00:41

Just Because I'm Naked Doesn't Mean You Can Slap My Ass (B2B 2006)

Posted by Shark 2006-05-22 21:11:45

Bay 2 Breakers: One For The Record Boobs. I Mean "Books."

Posted by Hip E. 2006-05-22 10:53:32

Apparently Keane Fs Me In the A With Awesomosity...

Posted by Shark 2006-05-18 19:32:22

Select Conversations from Our Weekend at Tawonga Since Hip E Won't Get Off His Ass and Post Some Photographs.

Posted by PETE 2006-05-17 00:26:12

A Scene from an Episode of Scrubs that Has Yet To Be Filmed

Posted by PETE 2006-05-17 00:12:00

Top Ten Favorite Novels

We walked arm in arm down the street away from the crowd and the lights of the square. The street was dark and wet, and we walked along it to the fortifications at the edge of town. We passed wine shops with light coming from their doors onto the street. "Want to go in?" "No."

Posted by Shark 2006-05-15 06:52:08

Criterion Collection, I'm Not Sure If You're a Valuable Resource or If You're Screwing Me Over

Sincerely, Shark 2006-05-15 19:24:33

Conversations (while watching Last of the Mohicans)

Posted by Shark 2006-05-15 06:52:08

Overt Intellectualism as Territorial Pissing

Posted by Shark 2006-05-10 18:43:16

The Jo-Tel, now with more bandwidth and occasionally PETE maybe

Comments:

We walked arm in arm down the street away from the crowd and the lights of the square. The street was dark and wet, and we walked along it to the fortifications at the edge of town. We passed wine shops with light coming from their doors onto the street.
"Want to go in?"
"No."