Ok with this motherfucking rain already!

I know we are having a water crisis here in southern California, but enough is enough. We’re going on week three of serious piss-down, depressing, rain and I want it to stop. Well, unless it washes La Jolla (sorry, wasps, it’s a neighborhood not a city) into the sea, then I’m fine with it. I’m trapped inside and can’t finish my driveway – yet again – because of this rain and my neighbors are starting to get irritable with the eyesore (too bad!) and my cat can’t go outside and she’s driving me nuts. Whatever Faerie prayed for this needs to focus his magic just a little bit make Tom Fudge’s (absolutely the worst NPR personality going) sprinkler system rust out so San Diegans can begin to fight the water crisis lawn by over-watered lawn. It’s a marine desert – look into it!

And as you can see, I’m my typically grouchy, snarly, I-hate-you-baby-Jesus, who-puts-lights-on-a-cactus seasonal affected self. Truth be told, I hate Christmas. It’s so forced and every year I delight (oo, sarcasm) in stories that rip the veneer of it’s fake face to reveal humanity for the great big garbage heap that it is. The annual trampling of the weak at Walmart, a gun-fight at a Toys-R-Us, or some other story of mind-blowing stupidity never ceases to sicken me making me wish I lived on a remote island in a lair in a hollowed out volcano.

I’m off for the next two weeks (not by my own doing, it’s a mandatory economic lay-off), staying away from stores and malls and any other place where large groups of the great unwashed congregate, hoping to get some tasks around the house that have been pressing since June that I’ve completely avoided. 

Removing a ceiling fan in my kitchen, fixing some sinks, throwing out cardboard, ripping up my bedroom carpet, and enjoying some Little Big Planet on my PS3 are all things I plan on doing in the downtime.

That said, enjoy your holiday or whatever – this atheist can’t wait for it all to go back to normal.

Buy any 13″x19″ print available in my portfolio (or commission a piece) and get 12 blank greeting cards – FREE! That’s a $60 value for a limited time only. Choose your dirty dozen from your favorite works or get 12 of the same image. It’s all up to you! Contact me for details. Each card is 4″x6″, blank, hand-made, comes with a handy envelope and clear plastic sleeve for protection.

Family often gives you ammunition for plenty of good writing, mine being no exception. With the 13″ mac laptop on the way, my OmniGraffle chart all primed and ready with character relationships, and drawing upon my past, I think I may find many chilling San Diego nights sitting down in front of the television with my cat, Boo Boo, next to me as I finally sit down to do some character development for my comic book project I keep meaning to get to one of these days.

I’m basing the characters loosely on my family, only much much richer, better jobs and still talking to each other. Everyone always says I should write them into something so I’m doing my best. I think the main character will be very different from me though, so I guess that will be a good departure, though I’m sure going to write my brother into the mix as a big idiot. I guess it’s my way of getting back at him for not paying me back for the money I had to spend to get my license back and it’s a better way to work out my anger, then say, beating his face to a bloody pulp.

I’ve pretty much nailed the mother character down and I’m pleased with her being this loving, if somewhat out of touch with her kids, aging actress. The father is a famous stage magician on his death bed with big secrets. The sister is a pop singer with a promising career and the brother is just to be hated and for comic relief. I’m trying to cook up the who, how and why of what will motivate the protagonist to become this unlikely superhero on the down-low and weaving in the odd-ball characters, like his highly motivated Filipino agent, a friendly ghost character, and the very very fun baddies who seem to be writing themselves.

Once I get these people all locked down, what motivates them, and how they all view each other – I’ll start on character sketches.

It’s funny, that when I’m writing about these fictional people – scenes fall out of my brain like tetris pieces and I wonder how I can make all of these little bits and bobs flow together into one cohesive story. I guess that’s going to be half the fun!

It’s been a little while since I was at a show last and a couple of months ago the Rancid show was postponed due to an injury in the band. Thankfully, the tickets were honored and a new date was set for the show I just got back from.

I’m probably going to crash in the next hour as one can only be so wired for so long before falling into a coma. Meanwhile, while I write this the 7 layers of funky, stinky boy sweat cools and dries on my skin. I’ll probably have a few bruises as well, but I don’t give a shit. The Rancid show tonight was a friggin’ blast!

SOMA, while not my favorite venue and an all-ages event, sure can pack them in. I worry that this place is a fire trap as I would hardly want to be in a building with all these people screaming and running for an exit.

Anyway, the opening act was on stage already warming up the crowd – Danny Diablo, a hardcore punk and rap act. Not my thing at all, but I guess teenage males with anger issues may like it. I dunno. What I do know is that he’s sexy in that hypermasculine way that you’d be hard pressed to show me a gay guy with that much swagger and testosterone and if he told you to suck his dick – you totally would. Besides that, the base from the speakers was so strong that it was hitting me right in the chest and I swore several times I was vibrating across the cement floor.

Buck-O-Nine were up next. San Diego’s local boys of ska-punk. They’ve been around forever and it was cool to finally catch one of their shows! Definitely a crowd-pleaser and a good choice for an opening act. Again, not my favorite band but glad I saw them.

Then Rancid come on with a 30 song set of old and new, B-sides and even an OpIvy song, whipping the crowd into a surprisingly controlled and well-behaved frenzy. The pit swirled and swayed from one side of the floor to the other, taking on larger and larger mass and I caught a few misplaced elbows in the ribs swirling around amongst the mounds of boy flesh (some men too) until I was drenched and high from the pheromones. I still am! The crowd was a friendly bunch, singing along and there were only a few dicks that needed a boot in the teeth, as Lars, Matt, Tim and new drummer Branden Steineckert (formerly The Used) hammered out the tunes and announced they’d be releasing a brand new album with the new line up very, very soon. As a long-time fan, you can count on me to be adding that to my collection.

Mohawk flopped down in my face and dripping with sweat, Rancid are coaxed out on stage for a two song encore – Ruby Soho and Timebomb. Classic stuff.

Now, the bad stuff. And it has nothing to do with the music, but people at the show.

Your camera on your iPhone can’t take pictures in a dark hall of stuff up on stage, you retards. This isn’t the goddamn red carpet so put all that shit away you suburban twats. I nearly fell over laughing several times watching the confusion on people’s faces as they tried in vain to take photos as they jostled about in a crowd that was not exactly still.

And to the girl in the wife beater t-shirt who scurried around like a rat looking for cheese, pushing people and jockeying for a better view. I almost felt sorry for you, being a short person and all, but instead of excusing yourself to get by people, you pushed people and I’m glad you got pushed back – hard. I hope you fell on the floor, you cow. At once point, you were so close I could smell you menstruating! I wanted to wretch! Can you not smell yourself!? Holy fuck! We all shouldn’t have experienced your heavy flow day with you. And yes, it was me who pulled your ponytail, you cunt. Next time I’ll rub your face in my rank armpit.