I'm a Psychic

What's up, rockers? I forgot to write a blog this month, so I am finally posting the one I wrote last November. It's kind of spooky the way I can predict the future and how I am right about everything. Here it is:

I am writing this bloggity on Monday, November 7. Tomorrow the US is going to have our election for our next president.

Hillary Clinton is going to win. I know this for two reasons: I can do simple math and I know America. When I have mentioned this to people, they have sometimes said things like, "But what if Trump, whatif whatif, whatif?" I don't know. What if a lot of things. What if Gary Johnson? What if panda bears? What if the alphabet?

Sure. All good questions. But what if what is going to happen happens?

I am an American and I know Americans. I know what we think. We don't like the idea of an unAmerican president. Be he someone in bed with Putin, or someone who feeds lies to his supporters, or someone who divides the people, or someone who brags about the unwelcome pussy grab, we don't like guys like that. It's not about our respective political parties. It's an American thing.

Democrats are with her, republican are with her, men, women, book smart, street smart, not smart, with ancestry from these parts and parts far beyond, we are with her. That guy will get some votes, and he'll take some states, then he will lose.

So look at us now. By the time anyone reads this, Hillary Clinton will be our president elect and the nation and the world will be kind of: Now what?

I am going to tell you what I think about that, but first I want to make a case for Trump supporters.

The fuck did he just say?

When I was a kid, I was told that God made Eve from Adam's rib and now men have one rib more than women do. I believed that until Rebecca was in nurse school. I was an adult. This was a few years ago. A piece of easily verifiable information slipped by me for most of my life. I just didn't know any better.

There are people who supported Trump because they believed things that aren't true. While that is not the best reason to support a candidate, I don't think those people are monsters. You can be a good person who is doing the best you can with the information you have, and your information can be nonsense. I think there are people who believe that Clinton is a criminal and Trump is not. Those people are not monsters. I think there are people who have to vote for their party no matter who is running. Those people are not monsters. It is unfortunate that there are monsters out there, and they do seem to all be Trump supporters. I don't know what to do about them.

I can tell you that most Trump supporters are going to be okay. They may yell about revolution, but they will sober up and go back to work. Organizing a revolution is difficult. Bitching is easy.

My advice is: don't tell them they are wrong. If it is at all appropriate, hug them. They may think we are all monsters. They may feel like their voices aren't being heard. Listen to them. Hug them. They aren't monsters. We aren't monsters. We're all Americans.

So, Madam President. Doesn't saying that feel cool? It makes feel classy and well traveled. I feel like I suddenly need the kind of shoes that need to be shined. I will look at paintings and see the secrets inside of them and myself. Madam President. I will study more languages and develop opinions on Shakespeare and wine. Not Shakespeare. Not wine. Shakespeare and wine. Madam President. Damn, that's cool.

Okay, you're the one who is still reading this. What do you want first? Your choices are ISIS or Hitler.

ISIS it is. Those guys don't think very highly of women. My understanding is that there is great shame for those guys to be killed by a woman. What are they going to do when Madam President is giving the orders? I wonder if the US military shouldn't print a  little uterus on each bullet they use. Let's change "gunshot wound" to "uterus inside." That guy died from complications of having a uterus inside.

I am not going to tell you that Trump is Hitler. I don't particularly care to compare and contrast. Just: I get it. You get it. Hell, he gets it. Good enough?

I have been glued to the coverage of the election. It keeps making me think about Hitler in the bunker. He had done all of the awful that secured his place as one of history's greatest monsters, and he was under Berlin, and the American and Russian armies were above his head, getting ever closer. If there had been live coverage of Hitler in the bunker, I don't know if I could have not watched. It would be compelling and sad and horrific.

But I don't want to compare.

Let's talk about God.

You may think that God is the divine and almighty creator. You may think that God is the power of the universe. You may think that God is a nice idea. Maybe you think something else entirely. Whatever you think, I hope you will receive this message the way I intend it.

God bless the United States of America.

Americans need to embrace each other again. Let's stop being scared and let's stop being scary. I'm a pretty okay guy. You're pretty okay too. I want to make the most of our time together.

Wanna come?

More Travel Tips

I think one of the things most difficult for an American traveler to get used to in foreign lands is the way other people measure stuff. Sometimes you want to know how hot it is outside and you will be told that it is 26.

As if.

They are thinking of degrees in centipede and you want to know caterpillar, so here is a useful tip to keep people from trying to explain temperature math to you: just ask your phone. If searching "what is the temperature" doesn't help, try searching "what is the real temperature."

The difference between miles and kilometers is much easier to manage because it is always in your favor. If you have to pee, but you are four kilometers from your potty, you are much closer than four miles. Also, the cars look like they are driving much faster than they really are because the needle is up on 80.

Converting money is going to vary from place to place. You should get your money from the automatic teller, but if you have foreign money in your pocket when it's time to go, you should spend the rest of it on stuff you don't need. If you manage to make it back home with foreign bills in your pocket, your bank will probably turn it back into US buckaroos. If you come home with foreign change, you should put it in a bowl in your living room.

Anywhere you go, public transportation is inexpensive and frightening. Don't draw attention to yourself by talking loud or wearing a stupid-looking hat. If you are using public transportation in a foreign country and the doors don't open automatically, you have to open the doors yourself. In fact, learn to speak French and read all of the signs on the subway - or as we say in French: Metro.

If you are going to be on a train for a long time, you should bring a book with you. Don't read it. Stare out the window. Take a blurry picture.

If you don't want to carry a jacket around with you and you expect warm weather, don't let on that you wish you had packed one when it rains or gets all cold.

Think about synonyms. If the person you are talking to doesn't understand you, they may know a different word for that thing. Instead of drug store, try saying pharmacy. Instead of cab, try taxi. Instead of airplane, try flybuggy. Instead of mashed potatoes, try smooshpapas.

Maybe don't call your flight attendant "air nurse." Try to use gender nuetral language like "air nurse."

Huh?

I'll post more travel tips as I think of them if I feel like it. Safe journey!

He Walked on Down the Hall

Alright rockers, I have been back in the States for a couple of weeks now. I just want to give closure to a couple of bloggy things that were floating around from the Mexico/Spain/Uganda excursion. Bloggy thing 1: I never got robbed. I mean, I got ripped off by a taxi driver in Mexico, but the AC/DC wallet was never stolen from me. It’s around here somewhere with 10,000 Uganda bucks inside.

Found it

Speaking of Uganda, I heard a commercial on Kampala radio for a contest called Mega. If I understood it correctly, you text the Mega number for a price and maybe you’ll win a prize. Here is the part I definitely understood: the announcer from the commercial said, “Everyone is excited about Mega, and you will too.”

What the heck?

It’s like, I know what he means, but the more I think about that phrasing, the more it tickles my brain.

Bloggy thing 2: the West. You know that song Light My Fire from The Doors? Of course you do. Try to set the night on fire. Seriously. Go try. Can’t do it can you? That’s why I am a The End man. The song The End from The Doors is awesome and hilarious.

Like your face.

The lyrics are odd hippie poems about drugs and inappropriate relationships with your parents. At one point old Jimdog sings: The west is the best, the west is the best.

I’m not agreeing that one direction is superior to any other direction, but I’m pretty comfortable in the west. It was pretty cool when Juli and I got to New York and went out for some barbeque in Brooklyn. Barbeque may not be what Brooklyn is best known for, but it was kisses from angels and you got to pick your sides.

Ride the snake, y’all. The blue bus is calling us. Corn bread.

Bloggy thing 3: coming home. We flew from NYC toward Denver. The woman sitting next to me was pleasant and terrified. If there’s one thing I enjoy, it’s a scared person on an airplane. I love it when we hit a bad bunch of turbulence and you see someone start praying. Their fear is like candy to me.

Remember The Exorcist? The little girl Regan interrupts her mom’s party, goes up to the pilot and says, “You’re gonna die up there,” and then she pees on the carpet. I would love to show that clip to every scared person on the plane.

For reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H8EvAj1acGU&t

Anyhoo – the scared woman was named Ann or Nancy or Heart or something. She was upset because we had been in the air for way too long. I realized she had a point. We should have landed in Denver an hour ago. I think to myself: I mean, of course we’re going to die up here. We’re in a metal tube in the sky. Shame on us. But I tell Heart, “It’s probably going to be fine.”

At last the captain announces that we can’t land in Denver and we are about to run out of fuel. As anyone would have guessed, it was time to land in Scotts Bluff, Nebraska on some asphalt near a field that in no way resembled an airport. Heart was not pleased.

Scotts Bluff like a boss

This story is starting to bore me. It ends: we got home and Heart got stuck in Denver.

Bloggy thing 4: what’s next?

I don’t know dude, but I’ve got a new movie in the can, 15 Zloty on my desk, a guitar, and a neverending urge to wander. The future is wide open. I’m excited.

And you will too.  

Thought Cereal

Like clarity and cohesion? This one isn’t for you. Go find the one about pickles. And for the brave, welcome:

Well, I did it. It wasn’t easy but I brushed my hair.

I was driven down to Southern Uganda yesterday. I’m not one of those guys who knows what a kilometer means, but let’s just say I was pretty close to Rwanda. I’m also not one of those guys who can define what a road is, but if you’ll indulge me and consider what a road isn’t, we drove on a lot of those.

Maybe you know what a jerry can is. I didn’t know what it was until recently. Picture an African woman walking down the side of a road with a brightly colored container of fuel on her head. See it? It’s not fuel, though. It’s water. A jerry can held the water I used to wash myself with this morning. It seemed way too heavy to carry on one’s head.

Think of a Spanish food. Did you think of a ham sandwich? Well done. That’s right.

Now think of a Ugandan food. Did you think of matooke? Right again.

Goats dress like cows here.

I saw some baboons in the mountains.

I’m tired.

This

Is turning

Into

A

Terrible poem.

Okay, so that was what was on my mind last night. It is today now. I slept and had some coffee. It is a new day, and I only have a few more things to shoot. I am dangerously low on storage and am becoming increasingly particular about what is in front of the camera.

One of the side effects of malaria pills is you can never remember if you have taken your malaria pill.

When I was at the equator, I bought a Snickers bar – a little taste of home. Where do you think it is now? The last time I saw it, it was in a little black bag. Oh wow. There’s Juli. I bet she knows where it is.

She did.

iTunes wants to update my phone. It really has no idea about the wifi capabilities here. You’re cute, iTunes.  It took me about seven days to get my Snapchats from Hannah and KatieP.

Heck this Snickers is good.

I’m flying away from Africa on Monday. The journey to the airport is its own adventure, but once I get to Entebbe I will fly for several hours on my way to Brussels. There are a lot of amazing things about Africa, but this rock and roller is looking forward to getting back to the west. I have never been to Brussels, but I love her. And God.  New York.

And then

Albuquerque.

I’ll walk and they walk and I’ll twist and they twist and I’ll shimmy out west where I belong.

Pulling Push Doors is the name of my new movie. There you are in control of your life and your body, and the world around you, and for that brief teeny moment, when all you want to do is open the door, you realize the world around you is not what you think, and you are not in control of anything, and it’s this private moment that is either frustrating or funny, and then you don’t think about it anymore. You’re in charge again.

I’m not sure if it’s a comedy. I think everything is a comedy.  No, not Schidler’s List, you lunatic. Life. Puppies. Waiting in line. Buying something broken. It’s all comedy.

I am curious to see if you all think it’s a comedy. Maybe it’s not. It’s funny.

Like your face.

I became interested in German films from the late ‘20s and very early ‘30s. Berlin was the place where films were made and innovation was happening. Many of the great innovators left Berlin for Hollywood and here we are. I have openly stolen from these early movies for Pulling Push Doors. I like the black and white, the lighting where our focus comes and goes, the use of text to lead and misdirect. It’s like learning a series of magic tricks and the oldest and greatest trick isn’t an illusion, it’s witchcraft or a forgotten science.

I like good movies, but I also like bad movies. I have strong opinions about Rope, The Room, Pyscho, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and an entire genre of Lifetimey movies where an abused woman leaves her husband by faking her death and assuming a new identity in a small town where he finds her. Remember Sleeping With the Enemy? That dude liked his towels straight.

Okay, I have a weird fondness for Sleepless in Seattle and The Holiday and You’ve Got Mail and movies like that. You’re waiting for the punchline, aren’t you? I like them. No joke.

I was thinking about the romantic comedy genre and wondering if I could make a movie like that. Romantic tragedy. My brain responded. Romantic tragedy.

Ugh. I was trying not to sound pretentious and I referenced Hitchcock twice.

Have you ever seen By the Sea? It’s so bad. It’s so bad it’s hypnotic. It’s so bad it’s funny. It’s so bad I can’t wait to watch it again. Go watch By the Sea immediately. Also, learn to play cards. I like cards.

Tell me again, what’s my through line?

Line?

Be sure to like Egg Murders Productions on Facebook, and get your pretty butt to Pulling Push Doors at The Guild on August 12. If you’re not in Albuquerque, you should be. As should we all.

Original Ideas

So, I know what you’re thinking: Didn’t Catherine take a bunch of travel pictures with a little toy cow named Cheesecake, like, a year ago?

Yes she did. And yes I have been taking travel pictures with a little toy Leia named Leia. I wouldn’t say that all of my best ideas come from my friend Catherine, but sure, some of them do. Why can’t I just take an original idea from one of my friends and claim it as my own? That’s pretty original, right?

In the spirit of giving credit where it is due: Catherine, toy cow, me, steal.

Cute.

My next original idea is to create an entire movie around my toy Leia. I’m thinking about calling it Star Fight. It will take place somewhere a long time from now, or maybe a long time ago. I haven’t worked out all of the details.

I do not believe that transitions are for the weak.

Yeah, sure, I used to play with the Etch A Sketch when I was a kid. I remember some people were really good at it. There were kids who could make a house with windows and smoke coming out of the chimney. Some people could do portraits. My personal achievements included rectangles and stairs.

As of this writing, it hasn’t rained in Africa yet, so my blessings are on standby.

Juli and I had a nice talk over breakfast. We are both writing about our travels, and we wanted to have a quick check in to make sure that we weren’t both writing about exactly the same thing in exactly the same way. I told her about my Etch A Sketch thing. If she was also planning on writing about the Etch A Sketch, she sure played it cool.

Sometimes tensions flare up when you travel in a group. I find it’s usually best to stay out of it. Things have a way of working themselves out among friends once everyone has had a little time, and maybe some sleep and a nice meal. Pro tip: you can cause a lot of damage by giving the appearance of taking sides. Every once in a while I am the reason that tensions flare up. I’m just a dude with my own flaws and I’m grateful that I have patient friends who respect me enough to give me some time to have a nap and a snack.

(I usually don’t edit my blogs, but I added “Pro tip” to that otherwise fine sentence. I think it adds a little something.)

Juli and I do a pretty good job traveling together. Tensions flare up a little from time to time, but we manage it well with the same kind of friendly patience. The biggest difference is that I can never hide when I am on my side. Usually when Juli and I have a tiff, it’s because I am incredibly right about something and homegirl has lost her damn mind. Our greatest and longest debates have been over The Shining. She thinks the book is somehow better than Kubrick’s masterpiece. What was I saying? Oh yeah. Objective. Stay objective.

The movie is better.

This is a popular story about me with the gang back home. I have never attempted writing it down before, so I hope I capture what’s fun about it. I remember it happening, but I have heard the story several times from other people since then. This telling will be a combination of those things.

I was in Krakow with a gang of artists and actors. We were in a part of the city far from where our beds were, traveling from one part of town to another, and we stopped off at a convenience-store type market for some provisions – water, cigarettes, snackiepoos – you know the drill. Several of us lined up in front of the counter like ducks. I was at the back of the line.

The first guy, we’ll call him Mr. A, spoke to the Polish woman behind the counter. In English, he said something to the effect of, “Where are the burritos? Do you have any burritos? Burritos. I can make my own burrito if you can show me where the tortillas are. Where are the tortillas? Tor-ti-llas.” The Polish woman was unable to direct him to the burritos.

Our next ambassador, we’ll call her Ms. B, took her turn. “Can I please have a pack of cigarettes? No, the blue one. No, the blue one. No, that’s yellow. The blue one.” Her voice became increasing louder as she pointed ever more feverishly. “No, the blue one.” I believe Ms. B finally got her cigarettes.

The rest of the gang said please in Polish and excuse me in Polish and water in Polish and did their best mime to acquire their necessities. At last it was my turn. We’ll call me Aaron Hendren.

“Yo, baby. What’s up?” I said. I might have had a friendly tone.

When you hear my friends tell this story, the legend goes that the Polish woman giggled and blushed, and got sparkles on her eyes for me. I guess I charmed her. Maybe I just added a little levity to a stressful situation. I don’t really know. I know that I can still hear Ms. B’s voice, “No, the blue one. No, the blue one.” Hey, Ms. B, maybe English isn’t her first language.

Just a thought.

This morning my server told me that they were out of bread and asked if it would it be okay to substitute cake. I told her that would be fine. I wish this was an option more often.

I hope you are learning a lot about Africa from my blogs. Please like the Egg Murders page on Facebook. If you haven’t done it yet, you really are the reason your parents got divorced. 

Me and Uganda

When you were around 19 or 20, you lived in this dirty house with a couple dudes and you all played guitar. When the girls came over, you all would D-C-G through some nonsense and everyone would sing along. As it got late into the night, y’all would G-D-C and pretty soon everyone was singing Ziggy Stardust.

Remember?

Me too. In fact, that sounds a lot like my life.

There’s that part in Ziggy Stardust where the singalong really picks up: Just the beer light to guide us. I bet if I was in a coma and you started playing that part, I would wake up in time to sing: JUST THE BEER LIGHT TO GUIDE US. Oh man. We’ve been there. We were probably there together. It’s such of part of us that part of us will always be there. 

Dude.

But things are a little different now.

When I am far from home, I love to see a Starbucks. Your coffee is exactly right in there. Man, I love to do new things and experience new places. I love the local café, but there is a comfort and a draw to a faraway Starbucks. And I find myself thinking:

Just a mermaid to guide us.

Can you believe that? I suck now. I am one of those dudes who just sucks. When did that happen? What the heck is wrong with me? What changed? Was it me or the world around me? Well, some of you don’t know the song I’m referring to, so you suck too. We both suck now. Think about that.

I am in Kampala, Uganda. Today is my first day of this trip that I have woken up here. I am preparing to shoot a dance and to document its history. I expect to get more details about this project in a few minutes.

More of this on Instagram. #uganda

The last time I was here, I saw elephant, giraffes, warthogs, and several more fascinating creatures. So far I have seen some lizards and some gigantic birds. I am far from home – maybe the furthest I can be from home before I start to get close to it again.

I have seen zero mermaids.

Okay kiddies, make sure you like Egg Murders Productions on Facebook and do whatever ass exercises you need to get it in shape, because you have to get your ass to my movie premier in Albuquerque. You and me, dude. There are two things we could always do better than anyone else: lick ‘em by smiling, and leave ‘em to hang.

I Think About Empire A Lot

What’s up kitty cats and rock and rollers?

Everything is a scatter and a jumble right now. I have so much to tell you about, but I don’t have a proper context for all of my random thoughts. This thing, that thing, this thing, that thing. Princess Leia, wine with Sprite, and some dude wants a couple eurobucks for some toys.

Toys

Then there’s the movie. I want your pretty face at The Guild so hecking much.

I am working on the subs for Pulling Push Doors as I travel. I won’t need them right away, but I want to get them translated into Spanish as soon as possible. The hotel room, the airport, hecking Africa – these are all fine places to create subtitles, write, film, and I even have a guitar with me. In these little moments in between sucking the nectar from life and travel, I’m like: “Gimme more hecking nectar!”

Spain is New Mexico’s grandmother.

Can we call Leia a Jedi? She didn’t get any Yoda time, but she clearly has the knack. Luke pretty much tells her so and Yoda and Obi-Wan talk about it. Let’s just call her a Jedi. That makes her a princess, a general, and a Jedi in the series. That chick could suck nectar.

It’s a quick one today.  I am going to work on subtitles until it’s time to get on the plane. I’ll be sure to say hi from Africa. You be sure to like Egg Murders Productions on Facebook, and get your pretty face to the screening.

Yes I do.

Until next time, suck the nectar.

Oh snap oh nap

First grade was a long time ago to anyone reading this. If you don’t remember what it was like, please allow me to refresh your memory. One day, your first grade teacher taught you the difference between there/their/they’re, your/you’re, it’s/its, and to/two/too. If I remember correctly, a lot of kids were home sick that day. On another day, your teacher told you about siesta in Spain. The rest of your first grade year was spent doing crossword puzzles about George Washington.

For some reason, everyone remembers the siesta thing. Your not to sure if their right about it anymore because you learned a lot of things about other cultures that turned out to be not true. Let me tell you, the siesta in Spain? It’s real.

In my brief experience in Segovia, I would say most stores and restaurants close right around the time you get hungry. They open again right around the time you say, “You’re kidding.” Also, a bunch of places are closed on Sunday. I’m not talking about normal places like tattoo shops and noodle places. I’m talking about the store. Know why the store is closed?

God.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not bitching about siesta. I’m charmed as heck by it. It just takes a little getting used to.

My first grade teacher’s name was Mrs. Kinney. I have a clear memory of her saying some pretty racist stuff. I hope they don’t teach that stuff to kids anymore. But I wish they would spend another day on that whole there/their/they’re thing.

I have been trying to use fewer swear words in my blogs. Have you fucking noticed? Good for fucking you!

I have also been trying to find words that offend but don’t rely on gender to have impact. My favorites are “brittle” and “candyass.” Go on, talk about politics with that idiot you know and call them brittle. Let me know how it goes. I think it will go fine, candyass.

Anyhoo, I can’t find a fuck substitute. I almost like heck. Are you out of your hecking mind?

My old pal Jimmy Deveney is out on tour with his band, and get this: he’s blogging about it! Like every day or two, he’s posting a new blog. What a hecker! I can’t compete with that. Slow your hecking poo down.

Nah, do your thing.

Okay crocodiles and alligators, from this side of the aqueduct, see you later.

  

Aaron Hendren's Top Five

And now, here is a list of my Top 5 Things to come from Mexico:

1. New Mexico

New Mexico is my home and the exact center of the universe. It is where the concept of beauty was first created. It is where arts and culture were first introduced into humanity and its legend continues.

2. Georgina

Georgina is a writer who is made of hugs and gunpowder. She can tell the future by her dreams. Homegirl is always good for a drink and a laugh y no tiene novio. Toma que toma.

3. Mexican Fender Guitars

Like most guitars, these bad boys are hit or miss. When they hit, they are bitchin’ guitars built across the border from the American Fender. My Mexi-strat was built by angels and blessed by God.

4. Mexican Food

I don’t quite know what to say about this. You have had Mexican food. Did you love it? Of course you did. You are not a monster.

5. These pants I bought

Holy smokes. They are skinny jeans for the more beastly of gentlemen. They did not cost much and they make me want to dance. When you see them, you will want to dance as well.

I hope you enjoyed my fun list. I will check back with your pretty face in Spain.  

What's up, Doc?

Quick: think of a Mexican food item.

Did you think of carrots? Good for you. That’s right. I have eaten most of my 2017 carrots in the past 24 hours. Every single meal has included carrots in one form or another.

Like many of you, I come from a land called New Mexico. It is a strange and wonderful place. Without getting into a complicated history, I will simply remind you that the nation of Mexico is the land I come from’s mom.

Weird, right? I mean, England is kind of my nation’s mom. Like every family, our relationships are goofy and hard to explain. Maybe you were raised by your mom, but you have another woman in your life who was like a mother to you. Maybe you don’t have a mom. Maybe a million possibilities. Maybe corn flakes and panda bears.

Jale Empuje Puertas

Mexico is my state’s mom, but I really don’t know her very well. It is pretty nice that I get a chance to visit her. I hope she likes me. I hope we don’t have to talk about my nation’s creepy stepfather.

I’m going to get off of the family analogy in just a moment, but let me just say that when I am in Spain, I will be visiting my state’s grandmother.

Abuela.

Juli and I watched several hours of dance today. We will do the same tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that. And then we’ll see.

It’s just a quick blog for now. Goodnight from New Mexico’s mom. Tomorrow we dance and eat carrots.

Lies and Ammends

Let me first address the lies I have told you.

If you keep up with this blog, you may recall that I told you that I returned from the future with the information that Americans are not idiots and we would never elect Donny Dump. I tried to convince you that you are not surrounded by idiots. I practically pleaded with you to have faith in each other.

Sorry about that.

While I did return from the future, I thought it was best to lie to you about the election. You are surrounded by idiots. I just was not ready for you to know that yet. You are ready now.

Another lie I told you was that I would not be making a cameo in my latest movie Pulling Push Doors. Well, I made a cameo and it is awesome.

Now that that is out of the way, I hope we can move on in an honest way. I will not lie to you again. I promise you that if I am ever dishonest with you it will only be because I didn’t mean to be or because I thought it would be funny.

Now then, I’m hitting the road soon and I’m taking you all with me.

So let’s talk a little more about my wallet.

                                          

                                                                            See?

Back in 2016 I became interested in the idea that I might be pickpocketed. I was down in Bogota and I purchased a decoy wallet. The wallet boasts Angus Young from AC/DC, and I keep things in it that I think would really disappoint a thief.  Hang in there, because I am going somewhere with this: I got the wallet in Colombia, travelled with it to New York, The Netherlands, Ukraine, and Poland. I will be taking it with me to Mexico, Spain, and Uganda (assuming it doesn’t get stolen.) I really want my former guidance counselor to still be alive and reading this right now. Hey Mr. Whateveryournamewas, remember you said I wasn’t going anywhere? Well, my decoy wallet has been more place than you have.

I told you I was an artist.

Yeah gang, we are off to Mexico in a bit. Our first stop will be Districto Federal for a little dancing and some art. I hope to report on street food and the Spanish language as I understand it.

I will be talking about the new movie a lot, but let’s get into that a bit later.

As always, keep your passport in your front pocket and pack the kind of underwear you can wash in the shower.  I’m going to check out three continents this summer.

Wanna come?

Travel Tips for the Albuquerque Goofball

Sometimes people ask me if there is anything worth seeing beyond Albuquerque and if I have any advice on how they can go see stuff. The answer to both of these questions is: totally. I don’t know how normal people travel, but if you want to do things my way, I will tell you how to go about it.

I think the two most important things about preparing to travel are:

1.       Be a filmmaker and musician.

2.       Marry the tour manager or artistic director of an internationally touring theatre company.

“Sure,” you are saying aloud to yourself as you read this. “That’s the easy part. Now what?”

The first thing you should do is go about your business. Eventually your wife will tell you where you are going, and she will give you a rough approximation of when. She will then ask you if you can play guitar for a room full of people, or make a video of the tour. Say yes.

After you say yes, the very next words out of your mouth should be, “Can we go to Holland?”

You can’t always go to Holland, but it is important to ask because sometimes she will let you.

If you need to rehearse, go ahead and do that. Then get back to minding your business. At some point your wife will come to you and say, “Can you believe we’re going on tour in three days?” This is your cue that you should pack. Things you will need: gear, adapters, clothes. You probably won’t need a swimsuit, but you should take one with you so that you can carry it around.

If you are going to Europe, you should learn how to say “Good day” in every language. This may sound daunting, but remember that there are only four or five other languages. Before you order a cup of coffee or whatever, say “Hello” in English, “Good day” in whatever language is appropriate, then order your drink. I don’t know if this routine accomplishes anything, but it works for me.

“What if you want to say ‘Good day,’ but it’s nighttime?”

See? That’s why you never go anywhere. No one likes you.

Now that you are in Europe or Africa or South America, here are some tips that should make your journey more enjoyable:

When you order something to eat or drink, an actor may tell you their intention to eat from your plate or drink from your glass, even though they have their own stuff. Say, “I like you and you’re my friend, but I don’t like to share.” The actor will roll his or her eyes. That’s how actors tell you that they think you are pretty.

Stop talking so loud.

Public transportation can be different in other parts of the world and sometimes the signs are in French. If you become frustrated, just go to the wrong place and look at your phone a lot.

If someone tells you that they didn't sleep enough, tell them that you slept even less.

If you become homesick and see a McDonald’s, don’t bother going in. That McDonald’s is weird and they sell a lot of pork.

When someone asks you if you have anything to declare, you will think of really funny things to say. Don't say them.

If you know you are going to Poland, learn to speak and read Polish. 

If you see an animal that reminds you of your pets at home, point it out to everyone. 

The amount of money you make busking in Kiev will not cover the cost of three ice creams. Bring a little money to tip yourselves.

At the market, you may find tomato favored potato chips. Buy them and eat them, but do not make up your mind about whether or not they are any good.

I hope you have enjoyed these travel tips. Perhaps I will post more on another day. 

Tops

There is a movie where Rob Schneider wakes up as a teenage girl. It is on TV two or three times a day. Every time I catch a minute of it, I'm like: right on, The House Bunny.

But it never is The House Bunny.

I finally broke down and put it in the queue because Juli is not the only one around here with the arts and culture. Anna Faris is tops. Did you ever see Keanu? Tops.

What's that now? The occupation of America?

Yeah, I heard about that.

There are certain words and phrases that you hear your whole life, but their meaning is revealed to you all at once when context grabs you. What a weird sentence. Here is an example: Someone tells you about a video game they are playing, and you think: I don't give a shit.

Then it hits you.

You have always said "I don't give a shit" like you mean "I don't care." But now that you have heard the story about the video game, you realize that the value of the story is worth less than the value of your own shit. I. Don't. Give. A. Shit.

Context.

Well, the occupation of America has given me the context to really understand the phrase "crying shame." It's a crying shame. Goddamn it. It's a crying shame.

Emma Stone is also tops.

I'm working on a new movie. It is also not The House Bunny. It's called Pulling Push Doors and it has a really small cast. No one is taller than five feet.

Heh.

I think a lot of the people I usually work with are starting to be like, "Hey, dude. How come I'm not in your movie?" I know. I know. It's not you or that thing you said. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not in it either. No cameo. But you really shouldn't have said that thing. Words hurt. Fuckball.

All of the people you fooled around with in high school are someone's parents now or dead.

This was pretty random.