Bests

Drinking rum, listening to Manu Chao at high volume, it's New Year's Eve with your host SL. But I actually don't mind that I have nowhere to be, no group to join tonight. I walked home from work past three separate front yard bonfires on my block, one playing loud merengue on a blaster, another full of giggling hipsters, one fire with no one around it, and that was all new, I've never seen other bonfires before on my block. So hallelujah to New Year's for bringing the fire. I stopped at Von's on the way home to pick up a pineapple (see Bests list below), some Granny Smiths and a packet of dark chocolate M & Ms for a New Year's treat. If you were here on my couch with me you would see I have my little potted winter tree with its glass pickle ornament, an owl, four fish, a pomegranate, a frog and a rooster dangling from it over on the console table. There is a Chinese lucky cat perched on my fireplace-less mantle next to my Selkie platter (a glass plate with a seal on it) which itself is next to a miniature Eiffel tower (from neighbors - I've never been), a Marcel Dzama Tree Man figurine, the optical illusion Neon Bible case (neon pages flutter when you turn it this way and that), and one of my speakers that looks like a jellyfish. I didn't think I had such a fondness for animals.
In the middle of the mantle is a big gaudy mirror with a pagoda carved into the frame. It sits so high up on the mantle that I don't have to look into it. Next to my foot is a stack of Dwell magazines I've never read. I am however reading a book on conquistadors, called Conquistadors. I met a guy from Guatemala who worked for GAP tours and his favorite moment from leading the trips in Spain always came in the churches when a docent had completed their lecture on the nave and asked if anyone had questions and this guy always asked (with, as he said "A gigantic Guatemalan shit-eating grin"): And where did the gold in this magnificent church come from? And he loved to watch the docent try to explain or avoid explaining how the church obtained its murderous sheen by way of stolen Inca gold melted from idols into ingots at factory pace by Pizarro in the 1500s. Prick.

Pizarro is the biggest dickhead I've heard about all week. But my dad forwarded me Bill Maher's List of the 14 Biggest Dickheads of 2007. It couldn't be more concise. I love it.
Here are the other things that made my year full of goodness, kind of sort of in categorical order:

Showing up in my dreams:
There Will Be Blood
Juno
Once
Sunshine
Superbad
The Wind That Shakes the Barley
Eastern Promises
No Country for Old Men
The first 30 minutes of Dewey Cox
The posters for Norbit
Elmo's World: What Makes You Happy?
Hot Fuzz
Right At Your Door
Eagle Vs Shark (bits of it anyway)
Sicko
Harry Potter & TOTP

Constant Rotation:
Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?: Of Montreal
Neon Bible: Arcade Fire
In Rainbows: Radiohead
Super Taranta!: Gogol Bordello
Is Is: Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Challengers: The New Pornographers
Boxer: The National
Random Spirit Lover: Sunset Rubdown
White Chalk: PJ Harvey
La Radiolina: Manu Chao
Armchair Apocrypha: Andrew Bird
Flying Cup Club: Beirut
The Reminder: Feist
No Shouts, No Calls: Electrelane

Flor de Cana rum
Pineapple and cucumber with fresh lime juice, pico de gallo and salt
Pickles! Always pickles, I mean, come on.
Intelligentsia americanos

Assault on Reason, The Gore
Over the Edge: Death in Grand Canyon
501 Spanish Verbs
I'll be honest - I didn't read very much.

30 Rock
The Mighty Boosh
Sopranos
Planet Earth

Moving my body all over the places:
Bike rides in Baja, Griffith Park, Pasadena and Palos Verdes
Hiking in Grand Canyon, Runyon, Griffith and Malibu
Zip lining, clambering in Central America
Skiing at Mammoth
Sailing in Howe Sound

Boo! Thumbs down!: Rafting in Costa Rica.


I wanted to post U2's Windows in the Sky video again as we are about to go around the orbit again on this world gone to utter mindless shit to remind us it's ok to feel good about some things, but some corporate goblin took it off youtube.


Happy New Year if you read this far. Keep your nose clean in 2008! Keep passing the open windows.

On Marijuana: A Treatise

The Elderly Review: Juno

I will say no more.

Long Time Coming

No posts in six months. Just got back from my first dip into Central America.
I:
ate lunch in a massive plant nursery in Antigua, climbed up ruins where I found Mayan owl carvings in Copan, ate Honduran shish kebabs by candlelight in a wonderful spot deep in the heart of darkness, slid down a bench soaking wet with rain and waves to slam into a Honduran on the boat to Utila with a 30 degree pitch, walked, snorkeled and drank in the rain there, ogled the murals of Whale Sharks but never got to meet one, wound around the hills of Honduras while inhaling diesel fumes and listening to the new Radiohead, got dust in my teeth on the schoolbus from the Nicaraguan border to Leon where I got the trots and missed the chance to volcano board, had 8 servings of Cazadores Anejo and 3 Jack Daniels in Grenada, swam in some more rain in a clear volcanic lake with a hangover, looked into an active volcano that leaked out a red glow and sulfuric acid in droplets, crouched at the mouth of a bat cave and felt/smelled the wind of their own wings, stood in a cave in the darkest darkness while sweating and shivering at the same time, learned to play Shithead adequately on the porch of the hotel on Ometepe, consumed an entire (small) bottle of Flor de Cana rum the same evening, did a bad Mick Jagger impersonation under the influence, the next day developed a combo of distributive and hyperthermic shock early in the first hour of an 8 hour clamber up and a slide down a bitch of a volcano only to complete the epic gong show thanks to my orthodontist companero and Ometepeno guide/whipmaster, watched the green world go by on the long dirt road climb of our van as we wound our way up to Monteverde listening to 1987 U2 and the goddamn Eagles, ogled a perfect specimen of Costa Rican manhood instead of the possibly nonexistent Trogons and sloths he pointed out in the dark wet forest above us, zipped into nothingness on a canopy line covered in cloud, leapt three stories and out into an arch over the jungle on a tarzan swing, ate a tremendous bowl of sopa de mariscos, laughed, rode a horse on a muddy road up to a waterfall, almost drowned under a raft on a trip down the Rio Toro on my last day, kissed my Dutch tourmate on the lips when we saw the bridge signifying the end of the river, ate what will likely always be the best pineapple of my life upon returning to the riverbank, cried and was comforted by kindly Tennesseans and my Dutch rescuer Ingmar and group, drove over the hills to San Jose for Argentinian supper of ravioli with artichoke and almond, drank deeply of some wicked Malbec, limped my way onto a plane, felt full of everything and nothing, watched my South Bay surfer seatmate chuckle at Frasier reruns on the monitor through the turbulence, landed at LAX amid the red haze of November, sat on a shuttle for an hour to get home, crawled into my own bed with clean sheets and slept for 18 hours.

Owls, Copan

Airport Caves, Utila

When Chungy our 13 year old dive boat captain said we were going to anchor at Airport Caves, I hopefully thought maybe it was called that because it was a place where manta rays congregated.
It's a part of the reef. That sticks out beyond where the old airport used to be.

And Lo! Was Manta Ray Born...

Wrote my first song yesterday. And Lo!, in another way, a Manta Ray is born.

The Only Fruit of Goodness to Emanate from Pirates 3

(aside from the ship coming up from underwater scene, and the music box neck amulet thing)

Johnny Depp at a press junket in Japan:

Garth Marengi's Darkplace

As I enter month two of night shifts, I have been drawn ever more deeply towards BBC comedies. The real reason eludes me. I refer here to 1) The Mighty Boosh, 2) Spaced and 3) Garth Marengi's Darkplace . Each series involves fantasy life within a sad grey repetitive world made of cornershops, alcoholic landlords and pubs. The Mighty Boosh is about two zookeepers: Vince Noir, King of the Mods and Howard Moon, Multi-instrumentalist jazz maverick. Spaced is about two do-nothing roommates in Camden, brought to you by the makers of Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead. And then yesterday I came across Garth Marengi's Darkplace. I can tell you nothing about it, but needless to say it involves a hospital setting, ESP, green smoke machines and numerous soap opera mullets. Nay, mulletinis. Please enjoy some Darkplace below. Full episodes available for the above shows at TV-links>.

Moments: An Ode, and an apology

We took Dad into the Washington high desert
for birthday reasons
(And yes, they are *both* wearing Old People Eye Surgery Glasses (TM)...American Apparel will be out with their own version soon)

Neko Case came on minus a bass player but plus the bass of Ghostland Observatory spilling over the hill down onto her stage, which really made a mess of things

The lead guy in Citizen Cope looks depressed
Maybe it's because their fan base is majority ruled by shirtless frat bros and their blond bikini hippie-skirted ho's

Dad says if you are a relatively unknown band, you should not banter, as the Long Winters did, saying: "Now it's time to bring out the blue shiny guitar" or make morals to songs like "You should never fall in love with a rock star" and I think this advice is prudent and should be heeded.

Hanna thought I was douchebag for wanting to leave after the Arcade Fire and before Bjork was done but I couldnt stand up without moving when the wind blew and the Blanket Dancers (TM) were working themselves into a frenzy (N.B.: these are the people who dance with a blanket half wrapped around their bodies, and not Bjork's choir who were wearing neon parachute blanket-balloon suits) so I thought it was time.

The wind shut the mainstage down on the the second day. The lights were rolling like they were on waves. Plug got pulled on Polyphonic Spree mid-cheesy choir chorus. So we didn't see Spoon or Interpol or Beastie Boys or Michael Franti . Apparently, in the end they came on at 9 PM and played half-sets and the wind was still going. Anyway, Sasquatch is one of the last places in the country to expect audience participation as regards political outrage, so I don't know how Michael Franti and his heavy-handed self-hero-worship would work anyway. Ten dollars for a tall of Coors was the most outrage people exhibited. Dad said he almost got arrested for bringing in his own water. I think that was his way of bringing the noise.


Mom said the guy in Bad Brains
looks like half of the homeless mentally ill
Dad said Bad Brains were
taking whitey's wallet for a ride

I just think they suck

Mom said Polyphonic Spree might be good if it weren't for the
60 mph winds
Dad just gave them the thumbs down

So to you and to Hanna
I am sorry for the gong show but you are troopers.
Let us say then (or I will say it to myself) that at least we had Manu and the Arcade Fire and a Gospel brunch; that you got to experience the pit and at 59 and 60 years old, that isn't half bad (even if it freaked you out); fashion faux pas too numerous to describe, conversations overheard from tent to tent best unremembered, wind and crazy river Gorges, Of Montreal in the tent in the morning, Trader Joe's, and Sarah Silverman's diarrhea joke.

I should have known better.
Randy Quaid said it best:
Shitter's full!

Win Two

The Perry, Sasquatch

Arcade Fire Version 2: Queen Regine

Originally uploaded by Sarah Lebo

Twice in one week is pretty spoiled. And second row is spoiled. But you have to get close enough so that you can pocket some of their Soul Glow. Hanna and I were surrounded by 19 year old boys and two pairs of sisters apart from us, and none had seen the AF before. There was a six foot drunk in the mix too, but it was an otherwise innocent front row. It is my choice to perceive that the boys were teary towards the end, but they were objectively emanating lots of rock-flavored awe and joy.

And...Spanish DeNiro On Bass

Spanish DeNiro On Bass
Originally uploaded by Sarah Lebo

AIDS! AIDS! AIDS!

Oyyo yo Oyyo yo Oyyo yo!

Chao!
Originally uploaded by Sarah Lebo

Theoretically, it was all set out to be a swell surprise for my dad's 60th birthday. Little Hank was, it was hypothesized, to have been driven in the early hours to an undisclosed location for days of unrelenting musical genius and sunshine.
The surprise bit worked. We drove 5 hours south of Vancouver to the Gorge on the Columbia river, and he had no idea what was going on and as a result, Little Hank ate Bit-O-Honey's consecutively to calm his nerves.
We parked the car and set up the gargantuan tent (7 feet tall inside people) and headed towards the entrance to the Sasquatch Festival. En route we were hollered to by chunky bohunks and ordered to imbibe Captain Morgan's from Costco-sized bottle (picture to follow).

The place was full of tools and fools, the occasional nice folks to meet in line or in the pit, a large spoonful of assholes and some crap organization. Sasquatch!! Yeahhh! Lebo organized a gong show of monumental proportions.

Here's Manu Chao, he was great. But what we were all shouting in the middle of each song, I'll never know...."Ey!" or "AIDS!" or "Raze!"

Arcade Fire Version 1: Deer Lake Whoaaah Party

The Arcade Fire at Deer Lake Park
Originally uploaded by trent_maynard

Flew to Vancouver last week to meet with a citizenship judge. Was another one of these trips made status post a night shift wherein it takes me too long to catch up on my sleep deficit, however in this case, I received a single unit dose of Arcade Fire with my bad sleep juju, for they played at Deer Lake Park (a night after Bjork in the same venue) and lo! I was there, and lo! who did I sit down next to but one memorable fellow West Van secondary student long lost and his fiancee whose acquaintance I had - as chance has it - met at a wedding in Ontario three years ago. It was one of those glorious WTF moments. Now they are officially my favorite new best friends. Let's hope I will email them once in the next two years.

And can I please have the kind of relationship one day where I make "ooos" while my man plays strong chords behind me?

Some live Hungarian Idol

Here is a version of the song Beirut covered down below (apparently called Ederlezi by Goran Bregovic), as sung on what seems to be Hungarian Idol, by someone with Hungarian hair, a Ms. Magdi Ruzsa.



This magician will now attempt sleep.

Some Live Beirut

I came home from a hard night's work, and I had this for my breakfast lullaby before falling face down into my pillow. It's as if the Moon had a favorite band that only played happy,end-of-the-harvest celebratory lullabies and they are that band. I hope you know what that/I means.

But He Created You, Evil One

I am a quarter of the way into Richard Dawkin's The God Delusion. I put it off for a while because I thought the title was too snotty and dismissive. But as I read it, I think it is a perfectly apt phrase. I hereby realize I am a de facto Atheist. This means I cannot be certain there is/are no God(s), but I live my life as if there was/were none. And now, here is some Terry Gilliam on the topic of omniscience and omnipotence...

Gateway and Santa Monica

Gateway and Santa Monica
Originally uploaded by SHL.

Last night my neighbors and I roamed around all corners of the neighborhood to watch The Great Griffith Park Conflagration of '07. Everyone was out on the sidewalk sitting on street corners, standing on car roofs and front stoops looking westward. If you werent there to see it, it was just like Pele or Mount Doom, where the edges of the fire looked like lava coming down the hillside in very discrete lines. The view from Sunset and Santa Monica, on your left, gave you a night sky that was utterly clear and dark blue and the stars were out. But then you realized they weren't all stars, they mostly news helicopters. It was like looking at a fleet of fishing boats all trolling the same tide, but with copter blades instead of diesel motors. And then the left view was all hellfire and palm trees and plumes of dark red smoke.

Red Shade

Red Shade
Originally uploaded by Sarah Lebo.

On a note only related by color: have you seen the South Park episode entitled "Ginger Kids". Because, wow is it funny.

Early Fire

Early
Originally uploaded by Sarah Lebo.

There are so many people in LA who are from other places who might have only new connections, or no connection to Griffith Park so I found a great comment on the LA Times fire blog from a elderly neighborhood boy, and you should read it:

"I was a most fortunate lad in 1950. Had a friend Scott Miller that
lived across the Los Angeles River in a nice house. Scotty and I would walk the trail behind his house, across to river to Travel Town. We would hold up the train, and pretend. I can remember riding our bikes around the golf-course. Probably rode to the observatory once. That was a long-ride for a couple of little kids. The old L.A. Zoo was always my favourite. Long gone now, even before this. Bee's Rock. Lions in their dens. Never knowing what you would find next, hiking around the steep bends, and marvelous trails. It was a "HIKE", to negotiate these paths.

I am so sad. Save the animals captured in the Zoo! Save the trains. Save FERNDALE. Fight the good Fight. My heart is with you!"

Posted by: Robert A. Bedford

Mijares and Will Ferrell

Please note that Mr. Ferrell is wearing a Mijares t-shirt. This will mean something to you if you grew up in Pasadena. Mijares is Pasadena landmark restraurant and they serve is red-sauce, white-people Mexican food. But it's good. Stiff margaritas. Mijares has a bar where middle aged single alcoholics go for happy hour. In high school when you went to Mijares with your family, you looked at the ground when you walked by the bar. You didnt want to become one of those people. I am thereby announcing a field trip to Mijares.

Hospital Beds

Last night I parked my car in Jurassic Park, moseyed through a clot of Universal Citywalk patrons who appeared to have been temporarily neon-blinded and/or sausage-stunned - maybe even deadened by the dueling piano-bar - and continued ambling until we walked by an exploding Waterworld ride to arrive at Gibson amphitheater for the KCRW concert.
Immediately, I saw James Blunt leaving the alcohol wristband line. I wonder what it must feel like to see real musicians play real music as an audience member when you are James Blunt.
Then, sequentially, I saw Nate Corddry.
I thought I saw Lauren Ambrose, but I was wrong.

In order:
Breakestra - annoying funk jam band. Pass the peas, right off the bat.

Then:
Cold War Kids. Great, lots of hitting on half empty wine bottles, maracas, etc. See below.




Then:
Rodrigo y Gabriela, who I had never heard of before. So all the better to stun you with. Both play mean, rapid acoustic guitar inspired by "trash metal". I dont think we knew what to do in the audience as a response, maybe offer up first born children. It was that good.

Then: Travis was the surprise guest. I felt kind of bad for them. Well, for anyone coming after Rodrigo y Gabriela. Fran Healy said they were listening backstage and were preparing their own nooses to sling over the rafters since they were on next.
Creepy tall bass player.

Then: Lily Allen. For shame, Lily Allen. For shame. A horn section dressed in Izod. For shame.

Then: The Shins. I don't hate them, but they did not and have not previously changed my life. I always fall asleep, despite their energy. I felt like maybe the lead singer was suicidal. There was something sad about him that I couldn't bear to look at. We decided that the other band members were not letting him speak for this reason. But then he gave a hello to his nieces. I think he is Edward Norton.

Sarah, Human VideoHut

Immigration: The Human Cost

MC Nuggets represent represent

Like a Party

Deaths, Palm Springs artwork, Ikea trips and a Pisco sour.
This in the Week of 29 years!

Here is a birthday-ish video.

A Leprechaun. Or a crackhead.

The Owl

Watch. Creepy

For Alex and Heidi

As per recent discussions:

I work with a lot of spirited, bright, funny, beautiful people. And a large majority of them are peace-loving Christians. It's just the math, it's just how it is. Is the PICU a vortex for that, who knows.
And I won't be at bible study with them anytime soon. But I want the world to know that I have the spirit too.
It just doesnt have a name.
Most often it is music brings out the Spirit for me, so I wanted to offer up an example
where the subject matter so beloved by people I love (and yet sort of far from me) overlaps with the thing that brings out my own brand of Bright White Light (TM).

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Rev. Al Green:



This is also for Bill, Gena, Katie, Jen, Natalie, Stacy, Monica, Fran, and Nick at Nite.
And Rachel. And Hanna.
And Lil' John Frommelt.

Further examples to follow.

Chubby Little Loser

This is for laughing.

From Ricky Gervais' Extras, Season 2. In which he plays a career extra who then stars in a horribly middle brow sitcom where he wears a wig, Sally Jesse Raphael glasses and blurts out the worst catch phrase ever. Here he is enjoying an evening out as a VIP.




And here he attempts to audition for a play being directed by Ian McKellen.
Again, for laughing.

A Song for An Ad For A Feeling, I Don't Know What (Window in the Skies)

Ever seen something you were sure was a World Cup/Super Bowl/Olympics ad for Coca Cola or Kodak that was framed by a song that made you feel full of goodness and light but made you suspect some sinister, corporate undertow at work?
Ever seen that kind of thing but different sort of...where the song makes you try to remember some other, older song that never existed...where it is full of the glory and light of music itself but also the passage of time and the somewhat beautiful sad sad sadness that best describes the state of the planet? With a Kindersurprise to boot?
No?

Here. Look. Really.

The Kindersurprise is really good. Did you find it?

Duly and Lovingly Noted Therein:
David Byrne's Shoe Tapping and Boombox
Arcade Fire at Coachella
Young Van Morrison, Breaking It Down
Iggy Pop's Circulatory system
Nina Simone
Baby Keith Richards
Patti Smith



Mom, can you find your friend Flava Flav?

It's ok to feel this good.

Failure Pile, Sadness Bowl

Hellhound at my heels

I wanted to change my blog address, but shortening the blog title would result in something approaching erotic fiction: slowlycomes, slowcomes, slowcome, slowlycoming, et ceterae. So I thought, how about I beckon forth ye olde hellhound. Why not!
I considered:
hellhoundatmyheels
hellhoundroundthebend
hellhoundunderthebed
hellhoundeatingcheetos

Anyway, the hellhound was abandoned too.
Sorry, little guy, but I know you're always there when I need you.

Sometimes I have to consciously try so hard to elicit the kind of creative farckle (def.: the lint on your sweater) that used to come so effortlessly once upon a time that I convince myselt that I have lost my true person utterly.

Anyway, I'm back.
Yer pal,
Hellhoundeatinghobbits

Return

The experiment has failed. The controls and variables were all over the place.
I come back to start anew.
New city (crash! bang!)
New bike (whirrrr)
Lebo 2.0!