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Sunday, September 20, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 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...
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
"Soldiers' Stories" OCT 29th
time sure does fly. october's rounding the corner and another installment of "Soldiers' Stories," is upon us. if ya didn't make the last show, here's your chance.
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and - IT'S FREE!!
i suggest a lil' pre-game of fine wine and prescription narcotics...
kidding. but here's the details:
OCT. 29Th
@ Loyola Marymount University
murphy recital hall (upper campus)
7pm-9pm
hope to see you there!
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Wednesday, September 9, 2009
where we're from
cleaning out the backyard and i found something.
a relic.
a time capsule.
vestige of young pissed off christoff.
it's a gun.
wooden gun.
something i made in my grampa's work-shed with a hammer, nails and a saw. think a buddy and i were imagining a movie, a war flick.
and since my mom was reticent to put a actual pellet gun in my hands, i had to wing it.
and i did.
but a gun.
guns.
they've played such a large role in my life.
good thing? bad thing? i dunno.
but it's me. and as time passes, thing change (i know, a real epiphany...)
wooden guns.
bb guns.
a .22.
shotty.
and Claire; the Ma Duece. my .50 caliber machine that poses with me in picture above. on the outskirts of al nasiriyah. right after the medi-vac.
sleeping with Her.
cleaning Her.
fixing Her when needed.
loading Her with armor piercing rounds; tungsten pointed, incendiary destroyers.
pulling triggers for reals now.
the steel butterfly sweaty, slowly slipping. my thumbs white. numbed.
pulling pine in the backyard as my friend ducks behind the cinder block wall.
i take cover as 7.62's pelt mud huts.
POOF! POOF! POOF!
Claire emitting FIRE.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
'die mother fucker die!'
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
'die mother fucker die!'
and there's my friend. he's dead. and i stand over him.
'i know what you're thinking. ' did he fire six shots or only five?'
KABLOOEY!
head shot. you're dead.
we laugh and he gets up.
gramps offers us diet root-beer to go with granny's homemade bean and cheese burritos.
BAM!
he's dead.
by a .45 ACP, echoing in the high desert; round Bell Mountain, down the talus, and falling flat on asphalt.
a Ford Bronco ZOOMS in the night, the driver cants his head - a single shot fired.
still don't know why he did it.
why he pulled that trigger for reals. for keeps.
dumb kid.
They found him a few months later.
dental records.
dental records.
beside him: a bottle of grey goose, couple redbulls and, well, you know...
but i found a gun today and i think i'll put it somewhere safe.
sad kitty
dedicated to the cat in the backyard.
you'll pay. yes you will.
(give it a second a to load, take a bit...)
you'll pay. yes you will.
(give it a second a to load, take a bit...)
Thursday, September 3, 2009
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