Sunday, December 27, 2009

things on the internet

a picture of a guy jumping from the world trade center.
more like diving.
head down and falling.
130 mph.
zooming.
zoom zoom zoom
off into the wild blue yonder.
this guy.
who was he? i dunno
some guy. some unfortunate man.
just trying to pay the rent.
zooooom.
like a bullet.
a slow moving bullet. tracing it's path with a photog's lens.
windows whipping past, eating smoke and shattered glass.
motionless limbs emitting noise.
like a flag in high winds.

things have been written about this guy before.
i believe even a short doc.
but i didn't know about him until a few hours ago.
a 'google,' search that lead me to this guy.
a simple depression of some keys on my mac, and i see him.
a man suspended in air.
who died so many years ago.
a lifetime ago.

the alamo
uss maine
pearl harbor

zooooom.
he doesn't look like the others. those men and women holding hands; shoe-less joe jackson's, terrorized by...by...i can't say.
it's something foreign to me.
never been pushed so far.
so far as to jump from a building - 100s of feet up.
always had options.
remain behind a wall until the bullets stopped.

and there's no point in wondering what went through his mind in those moments.
they probably wouldn't make sense.
sense was gone, im sure.
just energy. reptilian brain waves and adrenaline.
i think.


Friday, December 25, 2009

on christmas

some pix of dear ole saint nick.
and no, none of these men are sex offenders...
yet...
plus she said she was 18...
and she seemed to like it...
etc., etc.
enjoy.









Saturday, December 19, 2009

seriosly considering...

getting a pooch.
a dog.
canis lupus familiaris.
visited the pound recently. nothing but black-eyed pitbull's waiting to clamp down on some unsuspecting mail-person.
or kid.
or me.

but i don't wanna to become one of those 'dog guys.'
walking their pure-bred german sheppard named diablo.
w/ a beer gut gleaned from speciality micro-brews.
and boneless chicken wings.
walking the coast in teva sandals.
scheduling my time around Laker games.
devoting weekends towards fantasy football,
and the current real-estate market.
i dont want to be that.
big calves.
profiles on eHarmony.
nights alone w/diablo, nooshing theatre-flavored popcorn.
diablo licking his nuts, then taking a popped kernel of corn from my mouth.
no.
but i do want a dog.
so when i'm gone, the pooch is guarding the compound.
barking @ the degenerate hoodlums that creep in the streets.
waiting for me to come home.
to sit.
and to smile.
- tail wagging, ears forward.
good boy...


Thursday, December 17, 2009

trench art

kind of. or at least art conceived in the trenches.
reminds me of the stuff i used to sketch.
matter of fact, think i'll scan some of pissed off christoff's doodles soon.
but until then...






and sorry, don't know the artist (s).

Sunday, December 13, 2009

carl sagan

just started reading mr. sagan.
impressive.
what took me so long?



Saturday, December 12, 2009

magnetic resonance imaging

had a mri today.
drove to the Long Beach VA, in the rain on a Saturday, to have my lower back and pelvis scanned.
so i lay down in this white tube for thirty minutes, as a rotund mexican pulled levers and pushed buttons behind a plexiglass wall.
he blasted jazz in the B.G.
it mighta been the blues.
muddy waters.
but i lay in this white tube and for a moment i became really tense.
extremely tense.
panic.
so i breathed deep. filling the aeolia with oxygen.
through the nose. out the mouth.
and i calmed down, started to think.
the mri buzzing, moaning, generating heat.
and i lay in this white tube, motionless. barely breathing. just dead and thinking...
maybe that's the afterlife. just dead and motionless and thinking about everything you've done.
everything you've seen.
everything you've thought.
and i got to thinking how fucked up that's gonna be for me.
how fucked up that's gonna be for many Vets.
and how great that's gonna be for the skim-milk jollies who've been loved and cherished and never taken a life or participated in questionable activities.
just lived a good life.
free of pain.
on a pale blue dot called Earth.
-been reading Carl Sagan...


anyway, the rotund mexican stopped the mri.
pulled me out.
smiled.
told me i did a good job - barely moved.
and i thanked him. shook his hand.
put my clothes back on and told the rotund mexican "adios amigo."
spilled into the VA - empty.
halls - empty.
smelling of bleach.
pine-sol and sloughed skin.
with those recruiting posters, memorials and American flags.
"freedom isn't free."
"the frozen chosin."
"all gave some, some gave all."
nevertheless, i walked for quite sometime.
it was raining like a sonofabitch outside.
walked all the way to the mental health ward - ghostly, vacant.
walked all the way to prosthetic wing - smelled like lubricating oil.

later, i drove home to san pedro, to my granddad's house, to my warm bedroom, and took some pills.
within a few minutes i began to nod off.
motionless. barely breathing. just dead and thinking.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

green @ night

sometimes i wonder if the Marines/Soldiers killed in Iraq
wander the streets of Baghdad,
as if patrolling,
searching for a way home. but they're bound.
locked in.
perhaps they patrol @ night, after the sun goes down.
-hanging gardens cool and wet.
trying to find the insurgent that killed them;
that placed an IED inside a donkey's carcass;
or sniped them from a mosque.
but sometimes i wonder about all the civilians we killed.
because we did.
that's not debated.
that's a fact.
collateral damage, if you will.
and maybe these civilians and Marines, they search for the same thing.
lives cut short.
or maybe they just die. right there on the street. warm blood down the side of their leg.
thinking they've pissed themselves.
not even realizing these few moments:
the ant between their thumb and forefinger;
a weed, brown needing water;
spent cartridges - gleaming;
are the last bit of life they'll ever experience.

the Marines and Soldiers search the streets of Baghdad, trying to find a way home.
patrolling the empty alleyways
like vapor
or mist
as it rolls in off the Tigris
and covers the streets in haze


Monday, December 7, 2009

clem; rooster-type

its three in the morning and my rooster is crowing
its pitch black outside and this goddamn rooster is crowing
hes not crowing
hes screaming
saying fuck you chris mandia
im seriously considering throwing on some shoes
and strangling his ass
is that wrong?
because its three in the morning and my rooster is crowing
huh?
the sun is NOWHERE to be seen
NOWHERE
but this sonofabitch is screaming his lungs out
and he's only a banny
a midget chicken
with one hell of a shrill voice
it reminds of some hard-jawed militant feminist
calling for my castration
but he seems to have stopped
wait
wait
wait
yup.
there he goes...


Friday, December 4, 2009

Cornelius, my Rhode Island Red

laid her first eggs!
i know, i shouldn't be that excited, but i am.
medium-sized brown and hormone free.
basking in so-cal sun.
cracked corn eating;
free-ranging;
pooping machines.
and now, egg-laying.
good shit.
(cameo's by rusty the doxie)






Tuesday, December 1, 2009

december 1st 2009

obama's sending more troops to afghanistan.
30,000 ground pounders/P.O.G.s.
shit
sandwich.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Thursday, November 26, 2009

late one night

probably around 12am, the phone rang.
nearly startled me, but i answered, and a little female voice came sifting through.
she sounded asian, and she asked if i was interested in purchasing a long distance calling card package to the Philippines.
well first off, i don't know anybody in the Philippines,
and secondly,
i love fucking with telemarketers.
so i honed my best "old man," voice and began questioning the Filipina.
asked her what she was wearing.
she said a dress.
of course, Filipinas generally dig traditional garb.
then i asked if she was wearing a thong.
a moment of silence.
yes; she was.
okay, fine...fine. what color?
white?
don't they get stained?
um...no.
so the conversation went something like that for at least an hour.
with me asking "who are youuuuu?" every five minutes.
finally i asked for her number.
- she denied me this.
in turn, i asked to speak to her manager.
when he got on the phone i told him i was going to kill myself because his company called me tonight.
then i popped a grocery bag and let the phone hit the floor.

well, that was late one night...
they can't always be winners.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

bmezine.com

wow,
thought i had complete understanding of tattoos/piercing/general freakery.
apparently not.
snoop around www.bmezine.com and you're sure to find several things that'll make you wince, perhaps vomit.
really.

.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

a chicken named chloe

was a silver-spangled hamburg purebred we bought off craigslist several months ago.
and she was different.
a special chicken.
a chicken...yeah, a goddamn chicken, and i teared up when i found her dead at the bottom of her cage today.
chloe wasn't just an excellent source of low-fat protein.
no...chloe was an old soul.
you know the type.
with intelligent eyes. thinking. appraising. happy eyes.
i am not shitting you.
i am not shitting you.
that little girl would sit there and snuggle and spread her wings and chirp away.
roll around and scratch.
following me like a puppy.
taking flight and landing on my head, my shoulder...
sometimes squirting a turd.
but it didn't matter. it wasn't malicious. she just had to take a shit, i guess.
but she died today and i buried her.
this little bird.
with four white hibiscus flowers, under a cactus tree.
and i never thought i'd feel any type of emotion for a bird, let alone a chicken.
some selection on a menu.
super-sized # 2.
a McNugget.
but holding her limp body, eyes closed as if she were asleep,
i had to take a seat and hold her one last time.
yet people are dying every second.
children are starving.
soldiers ripped apart by IEDs.
chickens slaughtered by the millions.
and chloe; our chicken, this little girl, just ounces of feathers and meat, died today.
you know what?
yeah, i'm a little sad.
just hours before, she sat in my hand, sneezed a few times, peered up at me, and rested her head on my palm.
this chicken.
chloe.
goddamn it, she was just a chicken.
i eat chickens.
fried;
baked;
dipped in hot sauce;
mucked up in some freaking soup.
but chloe's in the ground right now.
a dead chicken. alive for a few months.
just a brief spark of life.
with an old soul.
and i miss her already.

and i'm still laughing...

Saturday, November 21, 2009

tiffany

is a dog. beagle-type. very old, probably in her late teens, and she'll be gone soon.
she was my sister's dog.
but she moved on...
bigger and better things, i suppose.
and tiffany was left to the parents.
she's grown old and lumpy.
distant. aloof.
used to greet me with the all too familiar beagle howl.
"owwwwwwwwwwwww"
just point her head to the sky and let loose.
tail wagging @ hyper-speed.
when i came home from Iraq, besides my old man, tiffany was the first to greet me.
- she paused. it took her eyes a moment to register what she was seeing.
but as soon as she got the scent, she spoke.
that's right, she spoke.
she did not howl nor bark, but moaned something i've never heard before.
a lament.
a wail.
maybe she sensed what i'd been through.
maybe she smelled the sleepless nights atop a HUMVEE in the fertile crescent, the fear, the foriegn soil under my laces, the boy changed into a man...
but most likely, it was the beef jerky in my cargo pocket.
- hey, she's a dog, whaddya expect, huh?
tiff.
and now she's old, perhaps senile.
walks around my house aimlessly.
sniffing.
farting.
whimpering in the corner - eyes fixed towards a blank wall.
howling in the wee hours of the night.
i feed her.
- she gulps it down without chewing.
i rub her.
- she lays there catatonically.
sometimes i go out to her. sit with tiff under the sun.
- she looks up @ me, vacantly.
i rub her head. her ears. look into those cloudy eyes; a heavy film of cataract obfuscating pupils.
- more often than not, she looks right through me.
yet every once in a while, i see a hint of recognition.
a wag of the tail. a smile.
and it happened today.
outside, near the chicken coop.
tiffany lounging in the dirt, and i sat beside her.
she looked up.
and i think...i think, she knew it was me; chris.
her gray paw, the delicate little fingers interlaced with white hair, she placed on my folded arm.
touching my tattoos.
all those years ago.
"true love," and roses and a skull faced octopuss (what can i say, i was a different kid then)
and she smiled, tiffany.
rubbed her head. her ears. right under that lumpy chin.
and we sat there for quite some time, watching the chickens.
later i found her in the middle of the yard, staring off into nothingness.
a lost lil' pooch stuck on "pause."
so i went out and ran my hand along her back.
along her dinged up spine and parched coat.
took a few moments to realize i was there.
and she looked up for a long BEAT...

PISSED OFF CHRISTOFF
Tiff...hey tiff...

and then back at nothingness.
brought her inside a bit later. right atop her gnarled blanket. and she sat, resting her old bones. face buried, eyes closed.
good old tiff.
a dog.
a beagle.
and she'll be gone soon.

Friday, November 20, 2009

a salamander

i found a salamander in los angeles today. under all the filth. this little guy, black and gray with tiny arms.
a little salamander, probably the last of his kind.
i debated on taking him. you know, provide a nice warm terrarium with crickets or whatever it is the hell he eats.
but i left him. right under this cinder block.
i pick things up. just like a kid.
always have. rocks. cinder blocks. bricks. shit like that. always hoping to find something.
usually i don't. not a damn thing but some ants and rollie pollies.
once...no, twice, i found rattlesnakes up @ the ranch, near hemet.
remember i picked up a piece of corrugated steel, and low and behold, life stirred.
under trash. this kid, this rattler, waited.
a pacific rattlesnake. they are black. and speckled white. and eyes...eyes angry.
beautiful in a way...
and all of a sudden he started shaking. rattling. like holy shit, animals really exist.
los angeles proper has yet to exterminate.
so i got a stick and placed it against his head.
tight.
scales bending, buckling.
reached down...seemed like hours, really.
well maybe several minutes.
and-
WHAM!
grabbed his neck.
his head rolled near my thumb. very surreal.
but he didn't get me. this pacific rattler.
nope.
kept holding.
squeezed.
and he relented.
submitted, like one of Gracie's opponents.
-hope i didn't hurt him much.
but i kept the rattler.
feed fat w/lab rats and pigeons; once a week.
"bitey," we called him.
but he would yawn, and those fangs; opaque hypodermic needles, would fluctuate like little arms waving hello.
sometimes i'd watch the effect his vemon would have on prey...it wasn't pretty.
in fact, it got very ugly.
VERY.
spasms. gasps for breath. seizures.
just ugly.
we released him several months later.
"bitey."
started to get nervous - his enclosure wasn't too secure .
but goddamn, what power that little creature had. this little piece of gristle and flesh, scales and a brain too small.
anyways, i found a salamander in los angeles.
i left him under the cinder block.
figured he survived thus far, why steal his thunder?
the last of his kind.
a little salamander in LA.

Monday, November 16, 2009

a word on logic

nobody wants to say it.
nobody wants to think it.
but what the hells so wrong with The Draft?
it'd lessen the burden on troops who're on their 3rd, 4th, even 5th tours in Iraq/Afghanistan.
is it so hard, so wrong, to serve this country?
yes, yes...you ascribe to Howard Zinn's philosophy...but guess what? he served. that's how he got the right scoop.
stop gettting second hand information, tone down your rhetoric.
i concede -- you're much more articulate than i.
i dunno. things seem so damn contradictory.
so illogical and full of posture and pomp.
yes, i'm a Veteran...i'm honored, respected by many.
(prolly loathed too.)
yet many i know would never serve in the military, let alone allow their children to serve in a war for this country.
but we did. and many of us got hurt.
badly.
unfortunately it's like pulling teeth to recieve disablitiy from the govt.
for guy/gals that put life on hold
and did what they were told.
and if uncle sam doesn't want to anty up? well, obama better grow some balls and tap into his vast pool of groupies and draft 'em.
you love this new change?
the hope?
yeah, i hear ya. me too.
so do something that requires a little more effort than dragging your ass to the polling both and punching some buttons.
you voted. kudos.
and i know you wanna loose wieght.
i mean, oprah wants to loose weight. you've tried the grapefruit diet. counting your carbs. atkins was too meaty. south beach too expensive.
try something new.
i know you're afraid. so was i.
waiting there in the dark, feet plastered on yellow footprints, trying to look tough.
and i know you don't wanna die. neither did i.
i wanted to drink, smoke, get laid, explore Greece, visit the Levant and touch Solomon's Wall, lounge on the beaches of sunny so-cal.
and you'll loose wieght.
you'll get that cardio.
you'll become something other than the millions of Americans' that compromise the general population -- who watch the world pass by on the boob tube, smiling vacantly.
might even become a hero, who knows? but you've got it in you.
if your gramps could...you could.
"greatest generation," - just like us.
same DNA.
same faces.
same crooked smile and dimples.
it's gonna be hard. yes.
it's gonna suck ass. yes.
you'll hate...many things. yes.
you might even become a pissed off Veteran like myself (but time will pass...and you'll mellow out, hopefully...i'm not always pissed off).
but in the end...you'll be history.
i was, right?
or am i just a dolt, some dip-shit who risked his life for a corrupt government?
for oil?
for bush?
for a special on the history channel 10 years from now?
a poignant monument conceived by a well-mannered asian lady -- adjacent to the numerous others that dot d.c.?
i dunno...
maybe i'm just another cliche unfolding before your very eyes.
i don't wanna say it.
you don't wanna think it...

Saturday, November 14, 2009

sports fan?

i've always had my doubt abouts the 2002 western conference series between my Lakers and Sucktown aka the Sacramento Kings...
-you know the one, LA got all the calls, and poor Jason Weber drifted into obscurity as did his sovereign's.
well, my doubts have been confirmed...kinda...somewhat...
check out this article on DEADSPIN.COM

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Law group launches program to help veterans -- latimes.com

Law group launches program to help veterans -- latimes.com

- my best bud and fellow Jarhead, Aaron Huffman in the news...

Posted using ShareThis

'soldiers' stories,' @ actors' gang

nice little time in culver city, ca @ the actors' gang.
and damn, what a great looking theatre...unfortunately i didn't get a chance to snap some pix of the interior, but it's brick, black, and wood.
check it out sometime.




Tuesday, November 10, 2009

did i forget?

never.
234 years of United States Marines.
Semper Fi.


shitmydadsays

i don't twitter, but this guy's pretty funny...and now he's got a comedy deal from cbs.

shitmydadsays

Monday, November 9, 2009

Applebee's

not just talk. tangible thanks.
Vets eat free this Veteran's Day 2009, care of Applebee's.
thank ya.

Fort Hood Shooter Tried to Contact al Qaeda Terrorists, Officials Say - ABC News

Fort Hood Shooter Tried to Contact al Qaeda Terrorists, Officials Say - ABC News

-might have jumped to conclusions in regards to our Troops. nevertheless, they've got a hell burden to carry nowadays...

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The Actors' Gang -NOV 10/11

nearly forgot, my monologue - along with several others - will be on it's feet this Veterans Day/USMC birthday @ The Actors' Gang Theatre in Culver City.
november 10 & 11 @ 8pm.
for more info:

www.theactorsgang.com



Monday, November 2, 2009

website of the month...

okay, so i've got some chickens. even made a big ole coop with my girl.
im talking chicken wire, two-by-fours, three-inch self-tapping screws, and whatever miscellaneous crap i could scrounge up.
looks a like a cross between a peasant favela and a 19th century isolation cage for chronic
masturbators.
nevertheless, i ran across this website few weeks ago and...
...have been transfixed ever since.
you see, there's a story among the rhode island reds' for sale and erudite tips on de-beaking leghorns.
just check it out. take some time. click around. interesting as hell.
people.
hell with the celebs. the politicians. the pundits. with their baby dicks and brilliantly white teeth.
people.

Friday, October 30, 2009

"Soldiers' Stories" OCT 29th 2009...

...went great.
alway nice when something you write in the confines of your self-imposed dungeon plays out well in front of an audience.
in front of people. breathing. sweating. engaged.
PEOPLE.
and that's theatre.
and that's why i'll always remain active in theatre in some form or another.
just watching/listening to an audiences' reaction is a whole school of education in itself.
really.
can't see how dramatic writers do without.
just sit in front of their Mac's and type, type, type away and churn out anything of value.
-more skill then me, i suppose.
but the funny thing is, it's the simple stuff that always work.
always.
the tried and true 'beats.'
drama borrowed from Euripides;
comedy gleaned from Aristophanes.
nevertheless, kudos to all involved.
good shit indeed.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

CCC's

something my gramps would talk about till the day he died,
the CCCs. glad i took some time and lent an ear.
again, PBS is on the ball...
check out the entire doc here.

the lobotomist

always had this foggy idea about a future where lobotomies were the norm.
a story about a world where people bypassed anger, fear, and hate, with brain surgery.
but it's just an idea.
or was it...
close your blinds, turn off the lights, and crank up the volume
check out the PBS teaser here:



and the entire program care of PBS's American Experience

Sunday, October 25, 2009

oh, Sarge...



Genesis, illustrated

i've read the Bible. can't say i've gained too much from it. it's a good read. piece of history 'n such, but it's always left me empty. maybe because i was raised Catholic and had to deal with all the horse-shit associated with the Church.
hypocrites;
evil fairy's in white robes - telling me to act like a "man," as they count their cash;
sexually repressed staff, explaining sexuality;
Catholic schoolgirls' snorting meth in the bathroom - singing "ave maria," in the choir...
blessed football coaches 'knowing' their students, sometimes their daughters.
not that i haven't come across some truly stand up individuals, but they're few and far between.
and they know. but what are they gonna do?
but i recently came across R. Crumb's illustrated version of Genesis...
and truth be told, i'm starting to come around.
too bad the Church is lost in the sauce.
- they coulda been somebody...

Friday, October 23, 2009

'soldiers' stories' press release!

ON THE FRONT LINE: Three Generations of Soldiers' Voices

Los Angeles, CA - The stories of a diverse group of California veterans from World War II through Iraq: gathered from interviews by Los Angeles actors/writers and told in a dramatic narrative to be shared with the veterans themselves and with us, the citizens they served. Their experiences touch on issues of equal rights, self-identity, and the long-lasting consequences of war in the hearts and minds of the soldiers who fought in them. This project was generated by a California Council for the Humanities “California Stories” grant and will be performed October 29 on the Loyola Marymount University Campus, and November 10 and November 11 (Veteran’s Day), at The Actors’ Gang Theatre in Culver City.

The "Soldier's Voices" project will produce a dramatic evening based on the stories of eleven California veterans from three different war generations: World War II, Korea and Vietnam, and the recent conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq. Using a workshop format developed by project staff, and informed by the insights of consulting humanities experts from several disciplines, the project allowed the vets to articulate their stories. The veterans, all drawn from Southern California residents and/or veterans from the WLA VA Center, were paired with professional writers who helped them find their "voice" and communicate their experiences through the means of dramatic narratives. The piece will be professionally produced and performed in three performances only, October 29, Murphy Hall, Loyola Marymount University, Westchester/Los Angeles; and November 10 and 11 at The Actors’ Gang Theatre in Culver City.

Each performance will include post play discussion and opportunity for audience dialogue with project participants, staff and humanities experts.

Importance of the project: VA volunteers have identified a key problem among the veterans they work with as the lack of understanding among veterans from different wars. The thematic purpose of the Soldiers' Voices project, therefore, is to show not only the differences between "war cultures," but also the experiences they share, from the battlefield to the impact on their lives at home.

Importance of the project to California: over 500 dead, 3300 other casualties - that is the price paid by Californians in Iraq and Afghanistan - more than any other state in the U.S. These sobering statistics show how important and timely it is to bring Soldiers' Voices to the people of California now. For ourselves as well as for them, we must do all we can to share and preserve the stories of our California veterans from the several generations of war in our times. For our younger veterans, particularly those recently returned from combat, the storytelling and dramatization process will become part of their reintegration into life at home by providing them with the opportunity to relate their experiences to each other and other generations of veterans and to re-connect with civilians, project writers and actors, as well as audiences in the Los Angeles area where our performances will take place.

WHAT:
ON The Front Line : Three generations of soldiers voices
The stories of a diverse group of California veterans from World War II through Iraq: gathered from interviews by Los Angeles actors/writers and told in a dramatic narrative to be shared with the veterans themselves and with us, the citizens they served.

WHO:
True stories from: Mike Baldrige (Marines, Vietnam), Thad Rasuli Ballew (Navy, Vietnam), Wendy Baranco (Army, Iraq), Abraham Salazar Beruman (Marines, Iraq), Col. Franklin J. Henderson (Army, Korea), J.W. Holman (Army, Vietnam), David Jennett (Navy, WWII), Chris Mandia (Marines, Iraq), Vincent Migliazzo (Army, WWII), George M. Omi (Army, Korea), Delton Sutherland (Army, Iraq).

Contributing Artists: Directed by Judith Royer, C.S.J., edited by Doris Baizley. Contributing Artists: Linda Bannister, Doris Baizley, Catharine Christof, Harry Cronin, April Fitzsimmons, Johnny Garofalo, Joyce Guy, Jim Holmes, James E. Hurd, Jr., Greg Koppenhaver, Howard Lavick, Michaela Lavick, Luis Jimenez, Chris Mandia, Ken Narasaki, Marsha Oseas, Nicole Rossi, Scot Smith, Christopher Sweeney, and DeSean Terry, and Alex Van Doren.

Presented by:

Loyola Marymount University College of Communication and Fine Arts,

Department of Theater and Dance and Playwrights Center Stage in association with The California Council for the Humanities, California Stories Project.

WHEN and WHERE:

October 29th @ 7:30 PM , Murphy Hall, Loyola Marymount University

1 LMU Drive Los Angeles, CA

November 10th and 11th @ 8:00 PM

at The Actors’ Gang Theater

9070 Venice Blvd. Culver City, CA

HOW:
Reservations and information call 310-670-0362 or by email jroyer@earthlink.net

TICKETS:
Admission Free – ALL VETERANS WELCOME

Monday, October 19, 2009

march 4th 2002

'the days go on and so do i.
busy day today. always busy, busy.
lots of bullshit. but thats the norm.
normal.
my normal.
i miss it. bad. badly.
Marines think they're such men.
such goddamn exemplary specimens.
it ain't the case.
but nothing ever is. nothing.
and now, right now as i stand my five hour post aboard the uss pearl harbor. as i look over the port-side gunnel, and there's the .50 cal suspended over the persian gulf, and i know, i really do know this because i heard the ruckus where the zeroes smoke their stogies and muse von clausewitz...
we are fucking Afghanistan's world up.
just now.
RIGHT NOW!
a warthog's 25mm is streaming white and orange. it must be cool. real fucking cool man.
but some other Marines are already there:  1st Battalion/1st Marines ;"first on foot, right of the line."
in the shit. 
just like me, but different.'


amazing how some things change, and others...well, they don't.
(2009)

Monday, October 12, 2009

cris mandia (based on nothing)

i went for a walk in the canyon today. it's behind my house and filled with a bunch of shit. old TV's, shopping carts, tires, and the such.
a little lake is down at the bottom. forms from run off, i guess. it's all green and dead looking. no frogs. no fish. maybe some skeeters. 
half the canyon is covered in spineless (for the most part) cacti. 
yes, i said 'cacti.'
i used to cut off the cacti and feed it to my tortoise. now, i just buy romaine lettuce.
chuck it in his pen every once in a while.
and since we're on the topic of food - lets talk binges.
as in, food binges.
i go through stages. stages in which i eat/drink/smoke a certain product for a couple months, then get completely disgusted by it.
strange.
let's see, there was:
coke zero;
healthy choice ice-cream bars;
99cent store turkey chili;
99cent store sugar free wafers;
dryers non-fat ice-cream;
big red soda pop;
pumpkin seeds;
werthers original hard candy;
diet coke;
lentils;
pita bread pizza;
black olives;
peach flavored diet snapple;
macanudos mini-cigarillos;
baked doritos;
baked cheetos;
goats cheese;
vegetarian pita w/bean sprouts;
wild cherry slurpees;
cherry Icee;
and most recently - banana slurpees.

thats about all i got right now. thanks for the read. 

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

"On the Front Line" aka "Soldiers' Stories" UPDATE

playing this month - "Soldiers' Stories."
come see my monologue (Vincent's Story), along with several other stirring real-life narratives, @ LMU - OCTOBER 29TH - 7:30pm
and hell, it's free!




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Saturday, October 3, 2009

"august: osage county"

took a trip to the ahmanson's yesterday with tina-bear.
29 minutes up the 110, exit Temple St. and you'll find yourself at the Center Theatre Group's stage. 
saw August: Osage County, by Tracy Letts.
best piece of theatre i've seen thus far. think it's the way Letts weaves the comic with the tragic that does it. 
disarms you. 
makes you set down the shield, and WHAM!
 - you're on your ass.
great technique - won Letts the Pulitzer in 2008. 




Thursday, October 1, 2009

pissed off christoff is pissed off

since i've begun self-medicating, my anger, my pissed-off-ness, has declined considerably.
a few prescriptions later and life is kosher for mandia.
my jaw unclenches.
the blood flows freely.
although every once in a while something/someone really fucking pisses me off. 
draws me outa my zone.
claws its way free. fangs dripping yellow and red.
and it happened today.
happened when i stumbled upon a facebook entry regarding a blogger; stephanie walker, for "Chicago NOW."
in short, it chronicles this gal and her financial woes.
she attempts to equate combat with fiscal fuck-ups.
s' what i hate most about America.
s' what i hate most about writers (im sure she and the literati-types are chagrined with this brilliant analogy).
but it's just bad business all around. cheapens every man/woman who's ever been in combat. 
ever traversed a battlefield brimming with IEDs, muj snipers, and crazed jihadi's.
to be fair, she claims a Marine espoused similar sentiments. 
and i don't doubt it.
they're dipshits everywhere.
ever see that Jarhead toss the puppy off a cliff? 
but the depths in which people try to rationalize their jacked-up existence nowadays makes me wanna double my dosage...
take a gander: 

website of the month, sonny

ever wonder if that creepy guy down the street who sports a constant bulge in his pants, has an underground lair in which he holds captive children to satisfy his perverse sexual appetite? 
i sure do. 
and now i can verify my suspicions @:

- you can literally search a map and find every registered sex offender; pedophile, rapist, animal bugger, and exhibitionist on your block (CA only). 

here's a few winners that live near me (can ya figger out which one's a gal?).

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Sunday, September 20, 2009

Friday, September 18, 2009

eyy, i gotta IMDb entry

tis the little things that make me happy. 
case in point: 
'writing' credit for my short film "get some," in the Internet Movie Data Base (IMDb).
must smoke a stogie to that one.


-and no...i didn't create it.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

on a golf course in palos verdes

my sis got married.
and we took some pix.
hot off the press.
not bad.

my lil' darling and i

on the dance floor


ah the notorious catch...


later that night, and the tie gets loosened and the sleeves git rolled


never did go to my senior prom, but im okay with that...