GI BILL 2.0

so i've been researching financial issues pertinent to the military/Veterans for a recent gig i was hired on for. and i'm just freaking floored -- no, freaking flabbergasted, @ all the bennies returning trigger-pullers are granted.

just amazing.

and duly earned.

if you're a Vet thinking about nerding out @ a local public university -- DO IT.

check it out:

www.newgibill.org

on a side note: TSA buffoonery

despite being roused by a cancerous old crone and an obese jerry-curl-clad thug in uniform, during my SECOND full body scan last week, i managed not to be thrown in jail.

go figure...

but if you're in the TSA, please consider suicide.

God bless,

Christoff

http://www.humblelibertarian.com/2011/06/10-of-tsas-worst-actions.html

Chi-town: business y pleasure

gigged up in Chicago (thanks to OITB alum Clint Van Winkle) researching a genuine WWII hero named Mario "Motts" Tonelli (details to come). fortunately i was able to amble about and take in the sights. despite the hellish heat the first day, Chicago proved to be a great place. beautiful city abound with art and the deep dish. here's an excerpt from my journal.

in chicago in july. hot. damn hot and steaming. need a rag to swab up the sweat dripping off my forehead. feel like my old man. genetics, go figure. "get botox," someone said. stops the sweat. and i just might because i'm current;y sitting inside Descartes Coffee House on michigan ave. and it's cold, cold inside but the salty excretions are spicing up my latte. not good. nevertheless i'm hitting up the Chicago Art Institute in a few. Monet's; Picasso's; Hopper's; and John Singer Sargent's. and i'm not ashamed to say i still dig the Impressionists, either. but i can clearly remember being a pissed off Marine back in the early days and dreaming of seeing these masterpieces in person. a kinda of personal promise. and now...holy shit, i found a way. on business at that. from what i can remember they got Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks," that famous noir piece set @ a corner diner. skeletal fry cook, alluring redhead, fedora festooned fellow. matter of fact, as i write this, the synapsis in my brain housing group have reconnected and i clearly recollect how "Nighthawks," influenced this dumb kid in 2001. so there's the redhead. she's with the fellow. they're sitting at the counter, ordering. a redhead. and in 2001 i found myself strapped to the tattooist's chair getting a redheaded pinup gal on my forearm. lacking class, i know, but whaddya gonna do -- i was a dumb kid and it was 2001.

some pix to whet your whistle. captions coming soon.

@ the Egyptian

had a nice little night yesterday.

went to Hollywood.

"get some," played @ the Egyptian Theatre.

A and I went to Canter's Deli.

shared a pastrami on rye.

-- mazto ball soup on the side.

and it was good.

outside the classic Egyptian

--enter here --

some cool hollywood hieroglyphs

looked amazing inside

talented director of "get some," Christine Berg (center)

the cutie and i

walk on the wildside

downtown L.A.

Echo Park.

sidewalks plagued by gum -- the pox; juicy fruit gone bad.

real bad.

taco bell wrappers -- greased up, blowing effortlessly, lost.

the girls -- they push their infants.

the boys are angry, searching for confrontation.

curb-side emporiums hawk faux fixings.

gucci and hello kitty blankets.

"it's like Tijuana," i say. "without the cripples and prostitutes."

maybe i just can't see 'em.

a lady crosses westlake blvd.

sporting a white tube-top and saggers.

she's on the "nod," wandering back and forth between the white lines.

cradling something -- @ first glance it's hard to see.

"she's got an iguana," Annika says.

"a fucking iguana?" i say.

she's right.

this tube-topped gal is tramping around with a giant reptile.

real green too.

splayed out -- it's tiny toes wriggle, desperately seeking solid ground.

but we have to turn, Langer's is close.

got good sangwiches.

pastrami-type.

so we spot it. right on the corner.

big christmas green, white script; cursive.

sign says to park in the rear.

my instinct says don't.

my instinct says bad juju.

the pedestrians filter past us as we decide.

do we park? do we go inside and have some sangwiches -- pastrami-type?

i see an African-American chap fit out in a wife-beater.

or v-neck.

but that's not the crux.

the crux is, he's mad. talking-to-himself-mad.

follow him with my eyes, periphery vision taking hold.

something i honed @ MCRD.

-- Marine Corps Recruit Depot.

matter of fact, this guy -- angry African-American male, looks like one of my D.I.'s.

he was a mean sonofabitch.

alcoholic too.

i hope he got help.

i'm straying -- Annika and I are rolling deep in the corolla, about to turn, dodging errant passersby, blasting Lou Reed, my hand clutching a little league aluminum slugger, hidden in the back seat.

"let's just go," i say.

a moment of hesitation -- juicy pastrami on our minds and...

we merge onto the 110 south.

back home to Pedro.

heartbeat steadies, the breathing becomes rhythmic and stethoscope ready.

i put the bat down and think about pastrami.

"Get Some," @ the Egyptian Theatre July 13th, 7:30pm

just in -- short flick i wrote @ USC has it's U.S. premiere next week via American Cinematheque!!

details:

'Come celebrate a wide variety of comedy, drama, animation and live-action shorts from Los Angeles-based directors @ The Egyptian Theatre. Included is one of the last USC financed films shot on 16mm -GET SOME directed by Christine Berg. We would love to see you there as this is our official U.S. premiere!'

you oughta check it out.

toss back a few drinks and say hello.

tix can be purchased here:

http://www.americancinemathequecalendar.com/content/local-shorts

suspended animation: the Salton Sea

been awhile, yeah?

and to be honest, i was resigned to kill off 'pissedoff christoff."

another blog cut short, some floating record -- suspended animation of one man's life, awash in a digital wasteland.

that's deep, huh?

but i figured, what the hell...

if anything, it's great lube for script writing.

we took a trip.

road trip to the Salton Sea -- some 20 miles north of the US/Mexican border.

another wasteland of sorts -- a misanthropic sanctuary replete with endless stretches of barren desert.

post-apocalyptic in every way.

and there's a town out there with living breathing men and women.

they call it Bombay Beach and if you drive fifteen miles down the CA-111, you'll hit Niland.

another town.

only not so..."mad max-ish."

nevertheless, take a left -- the first one you find, and you'll run into Leonard.

Mr. Night has a mountain out there.

been dubbed, "Salvation Mountain."

topographical folk art ( just check out the pix in the previous blog entry)

adjacent to Leonard's mountain is "Slab City."

abandoned Marine Corps base -- only thing left -- you guessed it, slabs.

concrete slabs.

and there's an eclectic and sometime nefarious group of squatters that bivouac in the vicinity.

got their own golf course, too.

but back to Salton Sea.

it stinks.

stinks bad.

like an aquarium gone wrong -- algae slimmed shores composed of a 342-million morsels of desiccated fish.

tilapia, to be exact.

they die off in droves.

thousands wash ashore everyday.

many dying, flopping around helpless on the shores.

and although the place is in disrepair, and the people are different, it'd be easy to mock them.

to insult them.

to belittle them.

but they're a unique breed.

rara-avis'.

people who inspire story.

who defy the norm and don't give a good goddamn what you or i think.

despite the desolation; the iraqi-like heat; the goddamn stench -- i actually dug it.

might even drop by and say hello in the future.