The title of this post is in reference to "If I had the money, I'd wear a clean, slim suit, crisp tie and the pointiest shoes on the daily."
I just copped that year subscription of GQ magazine on the cheap cheap (under, under).
Everytime I crack an issue all I can think about is shining in $5,000 suits.
"Fuck t-shirts and denim."
When on the real, I wear denim (the same pair of Levi's) daily.
Here's to the day when we all rock 3 pieces with fedoras and the proper shoes (the shoes are the most important accessory).
***
Build that time machine so I can live a few days in the 60's when everyone smoked unfiltered heaters, rocked slim suits with slim ties and the word "revolution" had potency in this country.
Ludacris was speaking on etiquette at "da club" when he injected this chanty hook into our lexicon.
But I'm here to speak on Muni etiquette. I'm beefin' with the lil' old Asian ladies. Yes, I called you out! I said it. I know I shouldn't discriminate but the truth is the truth. And the truth is...the lil' old Asian ladies mean b-u-s-i-n-e-s-s when those Muni doors open.
If I see an M-Ocean View or an L-Taraval coming my next inaudible thoughts are "oh shit". I tuck my locks behind my ears so that I may have complete peripheral vision--because the lil' old ladies are coming.
You usually can't see them. They're ghosts in the night. If they were thieves they'd make the cast of Ocean's Eleven jealous. They're quieter than mute children with wings.
Muni doors open and before you can say "Hey, you butted!", you've got an elbow in your hip and you're at the back of the line stepping on the train wondering how all the seats vanished so quickly.
Ruthless, heartless and focused like perfect assassins: Beware of the elderly Muni patrons. Your kidneys and pride will heal in due time.
I was under the impression that we (vastly intelligent, examples of Darwinism) learn from our mistakes. When you're a child and touch a hot radiator, the pain you feel in your fingertips cries to your brain, "Note to self: THIS IS A BAD IDEA." That's how it works right?
Action+Mistake=Correction. Simple mathematics.
If this is the case, Why do all of the horrendous fashion trends from the 80's continue to not only surface, but manifest undue celebratory popularity?
I can't make a trip to SF's Mission District without the hipsters that have gentrified said district flaunting trends gone awry. Is there a joke I'm missing? Is Ashton gonna jump out behind a trash can and exclaim, "You got Punk'd Jamaal! Hahahahahhahahahaha!"?
The residual trickle down of Geek Shiek bands has poisoned the well.
The gawky oversized glasses. The tacky flat-billed hats consisting of bright colors spawned from clashing colors never meant to fuck much less be in the same room together. The stretchy denim worn so tight that I can see the 37 cents in your left front pocket. It's all a bit trite and contrived to me. Looking like a pauper when you're actually better off than the majority of people in the universe never appealed to me. What's the allure? What's the sexy in looking like you just finished dumpster diving?
One of the main plots of this epic diatribe is the fact that so many kids buy into this ethos/lifestyle/look. On the daily i see a plethora of dorky kids rejoicing in their uncool-cooler-than-coolness.
"I wasn't cool in High School but now I'm surrounded by clones of myself so I am cool! Wizard!"
(This is the point in which you, the reader, points out that I'm a hater. Yeah, in this moment, I'm a hater and this is my mouthpiece.)
I just can't wrap my head around the "fuck it" attitude that has become cliche. The dirtier the better. The beardier the better.
Slovenly? Dishelved? Welcome! Join the team! Where you been all these years, pal?
It's rebellion right? It's vexing people like me that actually peek in the mirror before I leave the apartment because I have some self-respect...right?
It seems to me that the minority is inching up to become the majority.
This post makes me feel like I'm 27 going on 40.
So be it. I'm in the land of Peter Pan Syndrome Hysteria. So be it.
After a sunny, but windy weekend in SF, today's killer combo of cold dampness really did feel like your best friend once again proving his callowness by issuing you an unjustified Wet Willy.
I was told about SF's "rainy season" but didn't deal out the respect I should've. I thought I could get by for a few months without gloves or a pair of Wellington's. I thought, "I lived in Prague during the Spring. How bad could it be?"
Although it's not as bad as Prague (it even snows regularly in March in Praha), it still sucks when you're waiting for Muni with wet toes and the sun still hasn't made an appearance for the day.
So there I was. Hands submerged in denim pockets having a flashback to November when a visiting friend told me to buy a pair of Wellies:
"Yo those are on sale. You should get those." "Nah, I don't need em. I'm cool." "You should cop those." "Nah, I'm good."
But I'm not good am I? No. I'm wet and disgruntled. I'd rather be gruntled but I'm not. Why? Because I'm wet and cold.
That combo is my nemesis. Throw in windiness and you've met my Weather Apocalypse/Terrible Triumvirate of Torture.
So I'm thinking that with my next spendable paycheck I may have to revisit the Marc Jacobs store for some Wellies.
The sun, the moon and stars. The babies. The mommas (and the babies' mommas). The park, the grass and the air. The view across The Bay on a clear day. The smiles you give. The hugs you share. The grind. The absence of time. The resolution of revolution. To my feet when they catch the beat. To your hips and all those dips. To the way you wind your waist. The way it tastes. The realness. The honesty. The truth. The non-Hollywood beauty.
"Ooooh Muni I love your way. Everydayyyyy-eeayyy. I wanna ride you all night and day. Oh Yeah!"
Yeah, it's like that.One Muni driver said it best when he shoulder-shruggingly stated, "Sorry for the delay...but that's Muni."
Muni loves us. I heart Muni but sometimes, oh sometimes, I wanna put my foot in Muni's ass.
Yesterday, I'm hopping on an N train headed to my job at Powell station when Muni decided to shit the bed. It took an hour for a normally 20 min. commute.
All of the computers were out at the Duboce/Church junction behind Safeway. T-r-o-u-b-l-e.
Already annoyed customers had to yo-yo from train to train in hopes of somehow arriving downtown at an acceptably tardy time. Those dreams would be crushed.
The chaos on Church and Market was priceless. Fat little businessmen running down Market chasing buses and taxis. Pissed off suits all "harrumph" as they fold their newspapers in wait of some semblance of public transportation.
Meanwhile I sat on the N listening to the lost member of TV on the Radio singing a commentary of the on-going debacle. Did the curses hurling through the air deter him from belting out his feelings about the situation? No. Nothing stopped him from singing about "wanting to be in bed but riding to work instead".
All I could do was laugh. Why get so upset that a stranger is incessantly singing? Just get off the dead train anyway or put in your earbuds or feign to be reading something, anything.
In the end we exited and I made it to work a half hour late (aided by an emergency Shuttle bus). As I was walking in the door of IABC I had to take stock.
In a matter of an hour I saw normal, unassuming, silent characters devolve into depraved, Cinderella clock-watching babies.
Sometimes our lives aren't in our own hands. Those are the toughest moments. Megalomaniacs and OCD-ers hear me. When fear turns to anger...the world's on its' head. We mustn't forget this. To be in control of yourself when you have no control of the situation at hand is priceless.
I was lucky enough to witness Michel Gondry and Mos Def speak on their new film, "Be Kind Rewind". Aside from various clips and trailers we got to hear the Mighty Mos Def mumble and giggle. Michel was very casual and fun to listen to. Especially when a dedicated fan asked him to break down the metamorphosis of the poop (David Cross) is his short film titled "One Day".
I derived the most pleasure from Mos Def making a deal with Gondry to do some press at Sundance if Gondry would direct one of Black Dante's videos. Mos said yes...you've been warned.
Michel did say that KanYe was difficult to work with due to him "trying to please everyone". I guess he didn't want to say petulance but what do i know?
Just found out today that Emile Hirsch (Alpha Dog, The Girl Next Door, Into the Wild) is gonna star as Speed and Christina Ricci as his girl Trixie in the Wachowski Bros. live-action/Greenscreen version of "Speed Racer".
!!!
60's Japanime meets The Matrix perhaps? This could be a complete bust but there's always Chim-Chim to bring things back around.
And who could ever forget the Wu's exploitation of Speed Racer...
We made it to '08. Now what? As a youngster I perceived so many things to be "different" in 2008.
Where are the hover cars? Why can't we teleport from place to place yet? Why haven't we started building our colony on Mars!?!
The actualization of these failed notions was more than a bit frustrating to me when I woke up this morning. I went to sleep last night thinking GOD would do her magic overnight and make these farfetched hopes become realities for '08. Alas, to no avail.
Instead we're still getting excited about cars that get anything north of 35 mpg. We're still bickering and killing each other over religious beliefs. There are still corrupt politicians. Americans are still gun obsessed. Our favorite color is still green. And someway, somehow Britney Spears is still relevant.
Damn. Where did we fail my friends?
The truth is that we haven't failed. I'm here to usher in a new day. A day where we will celebrate with milkshakes, hugs, frequent flyer mileage, You Tube, text messages, fake meat and DVD box sets. All that truly matters in this Godforsaken country we call home.
This self-enclosed Utopia will begin with these resolutions for 2008:
-Be "cooler" than I was in 2007
-Listen to everything Steven Colbert says...and do it blindly
-Avoid the sun as much as possible (skin cancer's gonna be big in '08--I can feel it!)
-Make February 29, 2008 the best goddamned day of the year (Leap Years don't happen very often people)
-Motto for 2008: "It is what it is." (Redundancy will be cool in '08)
-Really get behind Mexico this year. With a little help, I think our neighbors can have a "career" year.
-Finish all of those David Lynch films I fell asleep during.
-Beets. Nuff said.
-Find Amy Winehouse and get matching tattoos. (I'm thinking Monarch Butterfly tramp stamps!)
