Resident Disaster

Do NOT write a crock of shit.

2010-03-26T13:30:00.000-07:00

http://www.movieline.com/2010/03/david-mamets-memo-to-the-writers-of-the-unit.php

Not that I think Mamet always knocks it out of the park but the point of the letter:

'Be interesting, don't suck"

Should be tattooed onto every writers (TV or otherwise) arm.

Popeye

2010-03-24T13:39:00.000-07:00

Note: When taking a gal out for a night on the town, make sure she doesn't find a random can of spinach that must have fallen out of your grocery bag from the last time you went shopping. This will inevitably open up a string of awkward questions and a debate over whether or not faced with a cataclysmic earthquake trapping you in your car, could you force said can open in order to stay alive.*

*The answer being yes!

Something new

2010-03-23T13:34:00.000-07:00

Not that I've ever taken the time to update this on a regular basis but I've decided to start a second blog devoted simply to movies. There's a ton of random crap I'd love to post but that never seemed a nice fit alongside a memorial to my deceased grandfather or a message regarding a buddies cancer surgery. There are days I want to talk about Inseminoid damn it!

"Outer space is expecting the unexpected!"

My friends and I have been doing WTF Movie Night for a while now and the new blog is for them (and everyone reading this)

http://wtfmovienight.blogspot.com/

Kick in the junk

2010-03-23T12:38:00.000-07:00

So a friend went in for cancer surgery this morning. They turned 30 earlier this year, sheesh, has it come to this?

-Friends getting married. Check
-Friends having kids. Check.
-Friends my age getting cancer. Check.

On paper, everything is ok, obviously with cancer and surgery one can never be 100% sure but of all places to get it, the area is treatable. In a lot of cases chemo isn't even necessary. Obviously my fingers are crossed and I hope to get a text from them soon giving a thumbs up.

UPDATE: Sarcastic text proves they're ok. Let's hope the Big C has vacated for good.

We need a new agent

2010-03-17T15:21:00.000-07:00

While it's true that I, Greg C. Bellavia, need an agent I'm actually referring to Italians because as far as holidays go we got the shaft. When it comes to all inclusive holidays I would not even rate us on the board next to the reigning champ St. Patrick's Day or the runners up Cinco De Mayo or Oktoberfest.

We have no one to blame but ourselves, I just find it hard to believe we can't do better than Columbus Day.

A (true) short story

2010-02-05T11:24:00.000-08:00

My dentist said I grind my teeth and tried to sell me a night guard. I laughed him off thinking that a lot of people grind their teeth, he just wanted to make a few quick bucks. Two nights later I had a dream I was chewing a whole wad of bubble gum. There was so much gum, my mouth was stuck shut. I woke up clenching my teeth. Stupid dentist.

Falling With Style 2

2010-01-10T22:27:00.000-08:00

I'm not afraid of dying. Nope. I'd prefer I didn't die tomorrow, I have too much to do but if (snaps fingers) that was that then no problem. Hell, I'm spiritual and either there's some big, great beyond or there's not. Guess what? If I'm wrong I won't be in any position to care.

I am, however, greatly concerned with HOW I die. In other words I'd like it to be as peaceful as possible.

Willingly falling thousands of feet from a fully functioning airplane just to slam into the ground, bones shattering, blood spraying etc. would not classify as a top 5 in the ways I'd like to shuffle off this mortal coil. When my good friend and co-worker Josh years ago asked if I wanted to go skydiving I replied no. No thank you. Not happening, good day sir.

But when he asked again at the end of last year in preparation for his birthday I said yes. I had trouble thinking of why exactly and then something he said made me pinpoint what it was. On Josh's bucket list two of the larger items were:

1. Sky dive
2. Go cage diving with sharks

He had asked who wanted to join him on both activities. I wanted to sky dive. It seemed interesting. I did not want to go cage diving with sharks. The reasoning was very simple, I didn't want to swim with sharks because I felt that the sharks would be bored with me, they are giant fish that live in the sea who got a bad rap because of a movie made 30 years ago, I feel kind of sorry for them. You are lowered in a cage so there's no real suspense and there is also 0% guarantee on the day you're in the water the sharks will appear. I have no real desire to spend a lot of $$$ for an experience I have no emotional connection to. (NOTE: I wish Josh luck with this quest.)

This however was not my reasoning for jumping out of a plane. I didn't want to go skydiving because I was afraid of it. It looked fun. I bet it was a really awesome experience. The only thing holding me back was fear, plain and simple. That was a shitty reason. So when he asked again I said yes.

The build up was surprisingly painless. I realized I wasn't doing any hard work, my tandem partner was doing the heavy lifting and assuming they hadn't been having marital problems or any substance abuse issues, they too would want to stay alive as much as I would.

The drive out to the airfield was about 2 1/2 hours. It was moi, Josh, Josh's cousin Alan and Rich. We arrived at the hanger and were greeted with bright smiles. They were very enthusiastic that we would be jumping with them. They brightly handed over the largest waiver form I've ever seen which was basically five pages saying the same thing: "There is no guarantee that under even the best circumstances that this will not kill or horrifically maim you! By signing this you can never, ever, EVER sue us, this is all your fault!" And it's true, once up in the air, anything could happen. No one dragged us there, this was our choice. I never blinked, never thought "let's get out of here" but the thought did cross my mind that IF some freak accident were to occur and IF I was horribly injured but still alive how pissed at myself I would be. I shrugged my shoulders and signed, let future Greg worry about that.

A video on safety quickly turned from boring into epic with the appearance of this gentleman:

I don't know what Skydiving Rasputin's name is but for some insane reason this is the man they chose to host the video on the joys of falling out of a plane. No wonder he loves it, nothing can kill Rasputin!

Following the surprisingly hilarious, not reassuring at all video, we waited around. We talked to some other folks who had just jumped, I ran into a co-worker of mine Lauren who had just finished jumping (small world) and passed the time anticipated our turn. I saw that one of the staff wore a bright blue jumpsuit with flames and hoped that they would be my partner. If you are going to do something potentially fatal it's best that your partner looks amazing.

After about an hour we were up. Alan's partner seemed pretty cool, down to earth, nothing too flashy. Rich got paired up with a large man with a huge scar on his face, if I was a foreign country and this duo parachuted in I would surrender immediately. Josh got a little French man who spoke with a thick accent. From his look and manner of speech he and Klaus Kinski would have made excellent co-stars in some kind of buddy cop movie. As fate would have it I got the Blue Flame. Blue Flame was very cool in explaining the procedure, what to do on the plane, what to do once in the air and then how to land. We were all briefed on the protocol and that was it. Off we went.

There were 16 of us crammed in a little plane, I chatted a bit with Blue Flame. His wife had signed him up for skydiving years ago to get him over his fear of heights, he fell in love with it and quit his day job to do it full time. As the plane climbed I just kept thinking that the view we had out the window, all the empty space, we would be out in that within minutes. The door opened:

Out goes Josh.

Out goes Alan.

We're making out way towards the edge. My cameraman is hanging halfway out the door the camera in my face. I offer it a smile, I lean forward, then back and then I'm gone.

It's bizarre and I can't really do the whole falling sensation justice. The closest comparison and even this doesn't begin to describe the actual sensation, is that it's like riding a roller coaster but one where the car you are riding in shoots off into the air. Back in the hanger, watching the videos of the others the minute long free fall seemed to last forever but in reality it felt over within seconds. He pulled the cord and my harness pulled tight as the parachute deployed. Drifting down was surprisingly peaceful. One of the guys back in the hanger had offered us some advice: "Look around". He said your gut instinct would be to kind of freak out, almost not think about anything but he said the best thing to do is enjoy the ride. I watched the ocean, the trees, I steered the chute for a bit, I tried to take it in.

He told me to brace for a landing, hold my feet out, let his legs touch down first. I agreed and got ready. Then in one of those moments, the ones you would play if your life had a greatest hits countdown.

"Oh shit."

There are certain words you don't want your parachuting partner to say. Honestly next to "Oh shit" the only words I think I would deem worse would be "We're dead!". I manage a "Wha-"

That's it. I don't even have time for the "t". In an alternate world this is my last word, an aborted "What?!"

We go from in the air to on the ground in what feels like a flash. Thinking back it's amazing how at that last moment the ground just shot up at us. Trying to glide in we lost the current and dropped instead. We managed to miss the target area, landing in some bushes. My tailbone nails the ground and I'm shocked. What just happened? In a split second my mind flashes back to the waiver I signed, the even under the best circumstances anything can happen sentiment that had been stated and restated, over and over. I just didn't want to be paralyzed, I believe we can rise to whatever challenge is set in front of us but I really didn't want to be fucking paralyzed because I was being an idiot. I cursed past Greg and went to wiggle my fingers and toes. Everything worked. I was happy/still shocked when we stood. The kicker is Blue Flame seemed shaken up. I offered him a "Any landing you can walk away from is a good one" but he seemed pretty relieved we were both OK. For the record I think he did everything right, this isn't an exact science, stuff happens. We're fine.

We drove back to the facility and waited for our DVD's (my crash looks especially epic on Rich's disc). Since we had more time to kill I called the folks to tell them what we did. (I am no super genius but telling them after was definitely a good call) While we can put this whole heights thing behind me my mom made me promise if someone wanted to wrestle an alligator for their birthday that I wouldn't go along so I apologize in advance if that's anyone's plan.

Falling With Style 1

2010-01-10T17:16:00.000-08:00

Heights and I have always had an odd relationship. (If you want to read how the skydiving went, mosey on over to part 2)

In elementary school there were certain Fridays where instead of the normal gym class consisting of soccer, basketball or any other type of game we would get to do more gymnastic type activities: a pummel horse, a section devoted to somersaults and for some odd reason a rope swing suspended off a platform. You would make your way up some stairs, step across the platform and swing a few feet off the ground. I don't remember the exact height, I do remember hating the fucking thing.

I'm not sure exactly what I thought would happen, the worst the fall would have done is knock the wind out of me but at the time the idea of stepping up off the platform and sailing into the air really scared me. I boycotted the swing for years, the last thing the gym teachers wanted was a hysterical child so they let me be. Years passed. It's not like these hybrid gymnastics days occurred that often so avoiding the rope swing became kind of a common practice, there was no reason to do it. That is until one day it occurred to me that there would come a time where I would be older and regret never having conquered that damn swing. Yes, even my undeveloped brain realized that adult Greg would not want to look back at what a little wuss he had been so one random Friday I just did it. Much to my surprise when I returned safely to the platform the whole class applauded. Looking back is a weird feeling because on the one hand it was a very nice gesture, I appreciate that they were happy for me. But there is another part of me that gets angry because in reality they weren't applauding my bravery, they were clapping because I had gotten over being a really big pussy. I'm not angry with them, I'm angry with me, what the hell was I so afraid of?

Several years later I'm being forced to take an outdoor adventure course (my father reasoning that being inside reading comics, watching black and white movies and cheering as Bret Hart wrestled people were not the most constructive activities) when we come across the day I've been dreading. There's a ropes course laid out 30 feet up in a row of trees. The only way to get up to the course is by a swinging rope ladder and you have to attach your own safety harness once you're at the top. I don't even think I could sleep the night before.

Getting up was easy, just grin and bear it and haul ass up that ladder. Passing the ropes course was simple as long as I didn't look down, this strategy only worked for so long however since upon climbing to the third tree I came across three platforms swinging in mid air which I would have to jump from one to the other.

Nailed the first.

Second one, little shaky but I'm on it so not a problem.

Third one, different story. I fly in between the support ropes and just hang by my safety line, the one that I tied. No words can describe the feeling, it was mortifying and it lasted for several minutes as I flailed around in mid air. Eventually it occurred to me that either:

A. Hang on this line until I die of fright or for some reason the rope snaps.
B. Wait for them to grab a big ladder or something to rescue me where I would die from embarrassment so same result as A.
C. Pull myself up to the third platform and continue on.

After five frantic minutes (holding up the line of kids behind me) I climb up and finish the course. I'll admit feeling pretty great when I reaches the ladder leading back down to sweet, safe, Planet Earth. I went to jump off in celebration, a sign of conquering this day but misjudged what step I was on, landing flat on my back. While my dignity had taken a blow the overall result of not having died while hanging thirty feet up seemed to electrify me. To this day my mother says a different child came home that afternoon. I guess having the just about worst case scenario play out was a blessing in disguise.

(NOTE: Some poor bastard behind me ended up disturbing a bees nest and ended up stuck 30 feet up getting stung repeatedly by bees and no one could help him. He was halfway through the course and had to complete it just to reach the ladder to get down. I hope he's off blogging somewhere about THAT.)

Shortly thereafter I became a huge fan of roller coasters, whereas I had avoided them like they were covered in bubonic plague as a kid, after the ropes course they seemed like nothing. I also reasoned that large companies wouldn't spend that much money on devices which would kill children so that logic helped as well. In other words, for all intents and purposes, the heights issue was closed.

Yet when my friend Josh purposed going skydiving back in 2007 I answered: NO WAY.

Why? Why bother to even tempt fate? It's literally like the grim reaper has you in the palm of his hand until someone pulls the parachute cord. Your hand slips or the chute doesn't open and that's it, you're street pizza. I shook my head, told him no and that was that.

But that was 2007.

Meat Truck

2009-04-13T13:01:00.000-07:00

A few weeks back I performed an autopsy on my deceased car to rescue my personal effects. It had taken me a while to find a batch of time for sorting out what to keep and what to chuck but Saturday afternoon I found myself with a few hours free (before the Jeff and Greg cleaning bonanza) and decided to move some stuff to Black Lighting.

I had just dropped some materials into the trunk and was placing some cd's in the center console when I heard a vehicle approaching. I shut my car door, turning back towards the house when I spied a small catering truck with a large picture of a steak plastered to the side. Seeing me the driver of the truck pulled to an abrupt stop and I was eye to eye with a man in a white, dingy catering outfit.

Mean Man # 1: We just came from (unintelligible) restaurant down the road.

I had been expecting a question, I assumed they were lost asking for directions. I had no answer to this so I nodded.

Meat Man #1: (Mumbling) prime rib and steak?

I figured this was a restaurant related question so I shook my head no. The man in the dirty white outfit looked confused.

Meat Man #1: (Suspicious) You DON'T like prime rib and steak?

In retrospect I should have replied "No, I don't. I'm vegan. Good day" but the way he asked "Hey MORON you don't like prime rib and steak?" brought out my defensive side so I shrugged with a "Well yeah..."

That was all the answer they needed. The driver pulled the car over and they both hopped out.

Meat Man#1 held out his hand and introduced himself, Meat Man #2 nodded at me. Throughout this odd little encounter he would never say a word. Meat Man #1 gestured towards the truck and opened the back (I stood several feet away for fear of them clubbing me and throwing me inside) and began throwing boxes of meat out onto the road. Meat Man #1 lines the boxes up on the sidewalk and opens them all so I can see the various cuts of beef (from hamburger to fillet mignon). I keep trying to say "No, I'm not interested" but he keeps cutting me off, offering to drop the price. While Meat Man# 1 tries desperately to haggle with me Meat Man# 2 wanders down the sidewalk, just looking at houses.

I tell him I can't afford any of this so he pulls out a pamphlet to show the other things they sell. This is when I observe that his left hand has been terribly injured. He wears a black cast and he can't seem to move his fingers, everything he does is one handed and the mangled hand remains 100% stationary the entire time we talk. As he tries to show off the pamplet his partner returns and leans down to hold one of the meat boxes. He seems as if he could care less and proceeds to spit chewing tobacco onto the front yard on his right. As Meat Man# 1 tries repeatedly to entice me Meat Man#2 continues spitting onto this well maintained lawn.

I thank the pitchman for his time but assure him I have no funds for this and return to my house. In all honesty they might have just been two harmless salesmen but really, who the hell sells meat out of the back of a truck to people they happen upon on the sidewalk?

Just a wonderfully bizarre episode from Saturday.

I take requests.

2009-04-10T10:47:00.000-07:00

Following my announcement on Facebook yesterday that a Grilled Cheese Invitational was coming to Los Angeles (!!!) I was indirectly challenged to construct a blog devoted to grilled cheese. Being someone who prides himself on having a story for any occasion I was horrifed to realize I really didn't have any specific gem ready to go. That is until a golden oldie, over a decade past, came to mind. It's a trifle, some stories are more epic than others but it made me smile then and now.

In Oneonta there is a small little diner which looks like the extension of your great Aunt's kitchen only restaurant size. While this in and of itself doesn't make the diner stand out, the fact it's full of creepy fucking dolls has burned itself onto my memory. All sorts of dolls line the walls and counters but even more off putting is the little dioramas all over the place. Fine detailed dioramas, resembling the ones you used to have to build for school are everywhere just filled with dolls.

-Little girl dolls
-Cowboy dolls
-Farmer dolls
-Soldier dolls

You get the idea.

One afternoon a while back it's my father, my grandfather (the ex boxer) and myself sitting down to lunch. Up until college I was a really picky eater, no salad dressing on salad, no jelly with my peanut butter, no frills in general. I was probably eating a burger of some sort, I forget what my father was having but my grandfather ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. On that day the idea of myself eating grilled cheese would have been met with an eye roll and the idea of years later anticipating a festival devoted to this culinary delight would have been met with horror. We talked for a bit, the conversation probably covered the time my grandfather defeated the Mexican World Champion because he liked telling that story but soon our food arrived.

My grandfather took one bite of his sandwich before a curious expression crossed his face. He set the grilled cheese down and opened the sandwich up, revealing tomatoes sitting upon the cheese. He looked up at us "It takes a real man to put tomatoes on a grilled cheese".

We burst out laughing as he closed the sandwich and resumed his lunch. That phrase would make my dad and I laugh for days to come. We would pitch each other scenarios with policement, firemen, superheroes and in each case no, these men were not heroes. The REAL men were the ones that put tomatoes on grilled cheese.

So yeah, that happened

2009-04-09T14:16:00.000-07:00

Recently its come to my attention that someone came to this site looking for an update and were disappointed not to find one. We can't have that now can we?

Despite some larger hallmarks (turning 28, my car's untimely demise etc.) I felt weird posting because isolated incidents didn't really seem to demand their own entry for fear I'd come off as whining ("I'm a year older...and?", Wah, my car's dead!" etc.) Let the record show while I'm all for a good timed rant every now and again I am not cool with whining in just about any form which is how I felt these posts would come out. Suffice to say now that I've crossed the five year mark here in Los Angeles I feel a page has been turned and look forward to the next five years, may they be even more action packed.

Moving on, what have I been up to? I gave up movies for Lent. This was mostly met with widespread disgust given I love them so but the method to my madness was:

1. I've been half assing it the last couple years. I can't tell you what happens once you shuffle off this mortal coil but I have faith in the concept some people like to call God and owe that some sort of thought. 4o days doesn't seem all that long.
2. It would give me more time to devote to writing. Following Devil On My Shoulder I was scribbling more and more notes down on napkins and was shocked to find I've had 21 ideas for features. This is from someone who used to struggle to think of a short film to shoot for class. If 3 of these are remotely workable at the end I will be a very happy camper.

With Lent ending in three days I am already planning a massive movie binge in addition to resuming the humble WTF Movie Night which has become the Sunday staple.

Speaking of movies you may be wondering, wasn't I working on a feature of some sort? Devil On My Shoulder is insanely close to being done. I know this has become my stock answer but we are literally at the tweaking audio levels phase. The holdup has been the studio we are working with is doing the sound work for free since their original technician screwed us over. While this arrangement is easy on the pocket we have to work around their schedule since they need to also concentrate on paying gigs. We are probably one session away, odds are that session is sometime next week. I can't wait to have this behind me, it's been a wonderful process but I just want to mark it *complete* and move on.

Ok, that's it for now. Hopefully work is almost done with me and I can enjoy a three day weekend.

Side Note 1: Congratulations to Brendan and Rabia on the announcement that she is with child. I've known Brendan since 7th grade which seems so long ago now and I am overjoyed at this news.

Side Note 2: A quick shout out to Amy & Jeff's blogs (http://alternativearmywife.wordpress.com/ & http://vampirebombat.blogspot.com) which are so well done I find them inspiring.

View from the floor

2009-02-09T13:35:00.000-08:00

Since it was just Rich and myself attending a boxing event in Anaheim at the Honda Center (now one of my favorite venues) the big guy went ahead and got us floor seats for my birthday which was really freakin’ awesome. I had never had floor seats to a fight before (not counting the time Morehouse, Jim and I snuck onto the floor for the main event for a rinky dink boxing card in Rochester featuring Lawrence Clay Bey) and since the main event was the culmination of a three year blood feud it figured to be a pleasant evening.

What was readily apparent early on was that no matter where you are sitting there are boxing hooligans everywhere. This can be a blessing or a curse since you may find yourself near someone who has the same passion for a fighter as you or the guy who feels obligated to scream “Show your tits!” to the ring card girls EVERY TIME they come out. The gentleman behind me had yelled sporadically throughout the evening but came alive during a fight featuring a boxer I like named Antionio “Tony” Demarco and his opponent Almazbek “Kid Diamond” Raiymkulov. Winning this fight would be a huge step forward in Demarco’s career and I was on edge the second the opening bell rang but the guy behind me constantly screaming only added to my stress. However, my annoyance soon turned to amusement as I realized his non stop verbal abuse towards the ring was constructive criticism:

“HE’S DUCKING HIS HEAD, THROW AN UPPERCUT AND NOT THAT PUSSY JAB! SHIT! FUCK!”

Behind the obscenities he had stumbled onto something, Demarco’s jab was badly timed and Kid Diamond was depending on him to miss in order to counter punch him. By round five I had joined my new found friend in trying to scream towards the ring for Demarco to throw more punches and not rest on the jab. While shouting such advice from the nosebleeds would seem idiotic from the floor it seemed like there might be some chance he might hear me (this is really doubtful considering how loud and raucous the Honda crowd was but I can dream).

Anyway, sensing his poor performance Demarco finally strung more than three punches together in the 9^th round and put a serious beating on his misfortunately named opponent. As the round ended and the crowd roared for Demarco’s progress I turned around to face the other hooligan and offered a simple “it only took him ten rounds”. He laughed and nodded “that’s right!” What we failed to realize was how effective the rally had been since Kid Diamond refused to come out for the next round. The crowd went nuts and I was pleased with a b-day KO. I know that our screaming had no effect on the events in the ring but it felt like we did and that was the benefit of the ringside seats above anything else. My other guy managed to lose a helluva brave performance in the main event but I guess that will give me something to look forward to next year.

The "Five"

2009-01-30T13:03:00.000-08:00

I've always loved mysteries.

I read mysteries, watch mysteries, write mysteries, the idea of the unknown and trying to solve the unknown is endlessly fascinating to me. Since my shameless obsession with the detective genre is well known to my family (they were all characters in a weird Agatha Christie / Clue hybrid I wrote when I was 10) I actually ended up a suspect in an unusual episode this week.

My grandfather's wake was on Wednesday (NOTE: The funeral is in May since the ground is frozen solid at the moment. No I have never heard of this before either). Since the funeral is kind of the main event and weather conditions have been abysmal in Oneonta, the family around the country was told not to travel and come in once May rolls around. As much as I hated to miss the first service my budget / vacation days only accommodate one trip back and I had to settle for calling home to see how everyone was doing.

Due to my screwy sleep schedule I often knock out for an hour or two when I get home. I woke up Wednesday night to a message from my mother which simply said:

Mom: Hi Honey. It's mom. I just had a question for you. Call me when you can.

It was too late to call her back that night but I was a little concerned something might have gone wrong. She didn't sound upset per say but her voice was odd.

I called yesterday to get a full recap of Wednesday's events. There had been a great turn out and full police escort. The radio did a tribute to him and people shared stories including the time he saved someone from a burning house which no one in my family had heard before. Overall my mother sounded very happy with how everything had turned out. We talked for several minutes before she got around to asking whether or not I had sent over a certain floral arrangement.

A large "shield like" arrangement of flowers had arrived. Whereas the other flowers and gifts had names attached this one did not. The flowers on the wreath spelled out "Five". . . and no one has any idea what in blue blazes that means. By default the families thoughts drifted to me since I wasn't there and with my four other cousins that would make us "The Five" but sadly this odd familial tribute was not mine.

So now we have a conundrum on our hands. What is the "Five"? The shield brings up the idea of it being someone on the police force but they were all at the service and no one took credit for it. And why "Five"? My favorite theories so far:

1. Rich's idea was that the wreath was intended for the "Five" family. The thought of there being a "Ted Five" amuses me to no end.

2. My personal favorite, my Grandfather was part of some sort of experimental super hero group back in the 1940's entitled "The Five" whose last surviving member sent the flowers.

My mother is playing Sam Spade and calling the delivery company in the hopes of tracking down the sender.

That's all I have to report for now...we'll see how this pans out.

Saturday Night Is The Night For Fighting

2009-01-26T14:40:00.000-08:00

If you watch enough boxing you are going to run into several phrases that will be repeated by the announcers ad nauseam. Some that immediately spring to mind:

“Styles make fights”
“Boxing is the theater of the unexpected”
“He doesn’t like it to the body” (NOTE: Who in fact DOES enjoy being hit in the stomach? This one is so old that it’s an exclamation in a 1949 film The Set-Up)
“That’s why they fight the fights.” (Normally said after an upset)
“Every great fighter has one last great fight in him”
“Good big man beats good little man"

Personifying the first five sayings was Saturday night at the Staples Center as “Sugar” Shane Mosley managed to beat the crap out of 4-1 favorite “The Tijuana Tornado” Antonio Margarito. For my money there was no way Margarito loses the fight, he was too young, too tough, Shane was over the hill, there was no way Mosley could pull the trigger anymore. I called the fight Shane’s last stand and was looking forward to Mosley putting on a helluva show before falling to the stronger, younger champion. The mere mention of a Mosley upset caused Rich and I to roll our eyes:

Sure it could happen but we could also all be killed by an asteroid tomorrow, I wasn’t exactly banking on a boxing miracle.

As I ate crow in front of the rabid Staples crowd, the largest ever assembled in the arena, watching Shane take Margarito to school I wondered why this was happening. Why was this event, which on paper defied all logic in fact playing out as it was. Was Margarito’s war last year with Puerto Rican superstar Miguel Cotto to blame? Was the rumor that Margarito was caught cheating before the fight influencing his behavior causing him to be distracted? Was Mosley’s new trainer that much of a factor that the over the hill veteran suddenly regained the abilities of his prime? At the end of the day it was probably all of these factors and more, it really doesn’t matter though because no matter what happened, this is what Rich and I looked like throughout the fight:

Of all the old sayings I would have to say that number 2 is my favorite because it’s true and also why I keep coming back.

Win or lose on Saturday night it was a given that Shane Mosley would be heading to the boxing hall of fame. Likewise Antonio Margarito, despite this extreme set back, has forever left his mark by winning the Welterweight crown an achievement that cannot be taken away. Someone who has never and probably will never enjoy these pleasures is Luis Tapia.

Tapia fought on the undercard with the very unimposing record of 0-2. His opponent sported the record 5-1 with 5 knockouts. While a 5-1 record is nothing to write home about, when all 5 of those wins are by knockout and the evening’s opponent possesses 0 wins, the outcome of said undercard was in little doubt. Keeping this in mind my friends and I were pleased to see that apparently nobody told Luis he was supposed to lose.

Naturally smaller than his opponent with limited offensive capabilities Luis decided he had only one chance at victory: BOMBS AWAY. Fighting the first three rounds standing directly in front of the larger man and simply throwing everything he could Luis took the lead. When his opponent was docked a point in the third round for low blows it became apparent that if Luis could hold on, he would rack up his first victory. Visibly gassed, bleeding from the mouth and now suffering from a broken nose endured in the third round Luis battled through a rough fourth round taking large shots as my section screamed him on.

When he was announced as the winner I was pleasantly taken aback, this was a rarity, the jobber of the evening pulling the win out of thin air. It’s not like upsets don’t happen but normally not for fighters like Luis. I don’t know what will happen to him next. I can name several fighters who rebounded from an 0-1 record to become all time greats (Henry Armstrong, and Bernard Hopkins) but I have never heard of an all time great recovering from two losses right out of the gate. I wish Luis well, I hope he continues to pull upsets and entertain crowds.

For twenty minutes he was able to thrill the spectators of the Staples Center and win the 20+ thousand crowd. I might have been a live witness to the best night of his life and that is another reason I keep coming back.

Carl Delberta 1916-2009

2009-01-22T13:48:00.000-08:00

The adage goes that boxers don't have happy endings. Money and health problems seem to plague fighters from the lowliest jobber up to the best of the best. One had only look at Muhammad Ali or his arch rival Joe Frazier, who once commanded the national spotlight, to see how the lifestyle can catch up with anyone. With that said I was always glad that my grandfather happened to avoid these pitfalls and live a model life as far as I was concerned, one filled with hardship, hard work and eventual triumph.

Born to Italian immigrants in Oneonta, NY my grandfather was forced to fend for himself at a young age to make it through the great depression. After toiling in the Civilian Conservation Corps for a time he tried his hand at boxing, the sport of his hero Jack Dempsey. He racked up over 40 wins before suffering his first lost* and was the leading ranked welterweight so feared that the champ refused to fight him (instead choosing to fight my grandfathers sparring partner Marty Servo who would defeat him).

World War II cut my grandfathers fighting career short and when he returned he joined the Oneonta police force where he would stay for the next few years. Based upon his own experiences during the depression and fighting to keep a roof over his head (literally) my grandfather came to the decision that he would build a Boys Club so that no child would grow up with nowhere to go like he did. His organization started small working out of his backyard but slowly it grew, snowballing into a pillar of the community which is still thriving in the town (after several rennovations over the years the facility is gorgeous and rivals any YMCA I've ever seen).

I'm not one for gooey speeches, he wasn't perfect but who is? He lived an extraordianry life, fought as hard as he could, realized and sustained his dream and managed to hold a loving family in the process. He lived long enough to see several great grandchildren born and up until the end held his faculties and sense of humor. **

As far as life templates go I would have to say he's my # 1.

*An online source for boxing records has him in the system but their records don't hold up against newspaper clippings I have from when he fought. I know for a fact he was undefeated going into his 40th fight and have been working to correct this for years which is frustrating.

**A fact that wouldn't really fit anywhere but the man LOVED gadgets. My mom's theory was since he grew up dirt poor he wanted to possess the wildest stuff. My personal favorite was a megaphone which also had built in songs. He would walk around the gymnasium in his club blasting When The Saints Go Marching In and annoying the crap out of everyone. We had fun.

Cheney.

2009-01-20T14:18:00.000-08:00

So as it turns out I am in fact a fan of paint balling.

I had been once before a decade ago and my highlights involved:
-not hitting anybody
-getting nailed in the groin
-being shot in my unexposed neck

and I wasn't exactly running out the door to try it again.

However a trip out to Valencia with some coworkers ended up being a lot of fun. I'll spare you the boring details but there was one notable highlight. Adam, who as it turns out is quite the paint balling enthusiast, brought two professional guns from home which were head and shoulders better than the pieces of junk rented out by the course we went to. At lunch after several hours of playing with said piece of junk weapon, Adam offered me the use of one his professional guns. Where old reliable shot one paint ball at a time, Adam's Ferrari of a gun had duel triggers and was built for rapid fire. Just handling the thing was nerve wracking considering it didn't come cheap so of course the following exchange would HAVE to occur.

Adam: Are you sure the safety's off?
Moi: Let me check.

(I click the safety off and graze the trigger, promptly shooting Adam in the leg)

In my defense, at least I didn't shoot him in the face.

GObama

2009-01-20T14:03:00.000-08:00

I would feel weird not posting anything about Barack's inauguration today and yet at the same time not living through the 60's and the civil rights movement I feel woefully under equipped.

Let me settle with I am very happy with this turn of events. Rich describes it as a peaceful coup and where else in the world is that even possible? My mother said she's been waking up more hopeful in the last few months following the Obama win and for someone to cross generations like that is pretty special.

I don't envy the position he's in, things are bound to get worse here before they get better but Obama inspires hope in a way like few others I have seen before and that's certainly a great start.

Trouble A-brewin'

2009-01-12T13:19:00.000-08:00

Seeing how easy it is to get stuck in a routine I really want 2009 to be a year of new experiences. With this my mantra for the new year, I was excited to hear that Garrett wanted to take a three hour course on how to brew beer from home.

Worst case scenario: A filthy kitchen and a story to tell.
Best case scenario: A new hobby which always ends with me drunk.

What first struck me about the class was that it was taught by the same gentleman that runs the insanely hard trivia night at Irish Times on Tuesday Nights. It was odd seeing him outside the bar, my life resembles a macabre sitcom as it is with or without recurring side characters. The next thing that hit me was how simple and yet remarkably nerve racking the brewing process is. There is only ten or so steps but the use of timing and proper wielding of ingredients is so precise that the entire endeavor can unravel in a hurry. The worst part is since weeks are needed to properly ferment the beverage you could spend a month brewing the beer just to discover you've made something undrinkable.

Garrett and I spent a few hours yesterday running around gathering supplies and then got to work. I'll spare you the boring details but as The Chargers got slaughtered on national television we went step by step through the preparation process. At around 5:30 we approached completion, two steps (cooling the brew and adding the yeast) standing between us and the end. The booklet that came with the kit which reiterated what was covered in the class advised getting a temperature reading on the brew before dropping in the yeast and as I went about cooling my pot Garrett decided to take a reading on his Belgian Pale Ale.

POP!

As he was nearing the finish line the damn thermometer broke adding the unwelcome ingredients of glass and some mysterious red fluid to the mix. After a moments debate Garrett did the right thing and dumped his pot. I can only imagine his frustration since that's an entire afternoon down the drain...literally. Thankfully it's experience for next time. While I would have been P I S S E D, he handled himself like a champ.

My red ale is hanging out in the backyard hopefully stewing in its own deliciousness, only time will tell. Either way the class and the entire kit cost a few bucks so I guarantee to make this process worth my while and soon the red ale will have some friends.

11 Down, 2 to go

2009-01-12T12:34:00.000-08:00

It's around 12:30 in the afternoon and I've been at work since 3 in the morning. The show I work for lives for award season since that's when all the stars come out to play. Where in the past our focus has been primarily on The Emmy's and The Oscar's this year we paid a lot more attention to The Golden Globes, hence the early call time. I was going to write some kind of "jeez this sucks" blog but come to think about it why not try something a little more constructive.

Some pro's about days we cover award shows:

1. Low number of graphics orders
2. Free food for lunch. As ghetto as it sounds I love not paying for lunch, even if I'm crazy sleep deprived.
3. People are in the best moods. Curiously enough it is the days where we should be the most irritable that the office comes together. Everyone, from the lowliest PA to the highest executive, is tired and just wants to plow through the program so a weird sense of camaraderie develops.

I think making it through the rest of the work day will be fine, the drive home I'm a bit worried about...

A golden era comes to a close

2009-01-09T11:25:00.000-08:00

Since moving out to Los Angeles close to five years ago (!) I've had the honor of residing with one Christopher Buchakjian who was a bit of an urban legend back when I was in college.

Even though we were both in the film department I had no classes with Chris but would often hear him referred to in a hushed, revered tone whenever brought up since he was held in such high regards by the professors. His experimental short film, "Son of a Dagger Maker" was the student template used to judge all other films in the class and is an oddly horrifying piece of work. While scouting out Los Angeles for the big move my former roommate and good friend CR discovered that Chris needed a new housemate and put us into contact with one another. Based off the fact that:

A. Around campus Chris was a mysterious, wraith like figure
B. Had made a movie that was the definition of curiously unsettling

I honestly had no idea what to expect.

My fears however turend out to be completely unfounded since 2004 Chris has become one of my best friends. Despite the fact we're both kind of loners who spend their time on very different hobbies (Writing VS Lighting Design) we hit it off. I am certainly not an easy person to live with at all times and we managed to have a house with several line up changes and very little drama.

Greg / Chris / Adam 2004
Greg / Chris / Leo 2004 - 2006
Greg / Chris / Rich 2004 - 2009

With that said I am sad to announce that he will be moving out of our luxorious Culver City residence by February. While I wish him well on his further misadventures and look forward to my own zaniness with ongoing housemate Rich (a friend from the land of high school) and incoming housemate Jeff (another Hofstra alum) the house will not be the same without him.

Some of the top moments from an entertaining run:

10. Chris, Leo (the only person I might be able to ever go to Burning Man with) and I deciding one Sunday afternoon that in order to make more money we would become vampire hunters but then bitterly arguing over whether or not we would keep any money or goods we found on the undead. For the record I was pro keeping the loot.

9. Chris agreeing to come with me to Pirate Times on a whim where we, along with another friend Will, screamed like a house was on fire for our sections hero The Green Pirate.

8. When I suggested I liked Eric Bana as an actor Chris proceeded to sing a song with guitar accompanyment as to how much he sucks.

7. We both insanely LOVE The Doom Generation but for two very different reasons. He enjoys it as a parody while I find it a great example of what not to do while writing a film. To this day I don't know which one of us is right.

6. Adam, our former roommate had a ton of wild friends from the college he went to and parties at our place turned out to be a fairly mixed bag in terms of people. Late one night, in the middle of a crowded room while talking to two girls as a Smiths song played Chris appeared out of nowhere, pointed to one of the gals, announced "This girl lost her virginity to Morrissey" and then moonwalked down the hall.

5. Chris had lived in our house for several years before I arrived and he and his first roommates started and kept a tradition hosting orphan Thanksgiving. While some faces have stayed the same and others have changed, hosting the holiday is always a lot of fun. My folks don't even ask if I'm coming home in November anymore and having the event at our place made Los Angeles feel a lot more like home than New York City ever did for me.

4. At a club for Kelly's Birthday Chris climbs onto a platform on top of a stage and starts dancing. The platform is for hoochies only and security tells him to get down. Chris looks the large slab of beef in the eyes and instead of getting down, merely dances harder, wildly waving his arms.

3. Random Movie Madness: I used to work for Film Threat and in order to review movies they would send you a box filled with 50 DVD's...95% of which were total shit. Sitting alone was agony but thankfully bizarre curiousity drove Chris to begin sitting in on the viewings and we became a two man MST3K which turned into a lot of fun. The one terrifying exception was an unmarked 6 hour DVD of 9/11 conspiracy theory material narrated by a creepy robot voice. Chris made it through 4 hours while I watched 5 until I fastforward to the end. Chris was so freaked out he slept with his sneakers on, I slept with a baseball bat.

Even years after I was done with Film Threat we would find ourselves still watching the randomest crap on television and sticking with it just to hurl insults at the screen. Movies I sat through which I never would have thought twice about otherwise.
-Spellcaster
-Akeelah and the Bee
-Live Wire
-My Tutor
-Premonition
-Belly 2 (Special guest star Rich doing the funniest impsersonation I've ever heard)
-Factotum (Loved the book, the movie is total crap)
-Aquamarine (perhaps our lowest point)
-Evan Almighty (How does one mock a comedy? When it's as unfunny as this film.)

2. Ridiculous late night conversations were a staple for the house and none more so than a humongous, passionate argument over whether or not one would rather spend ones time building a ship in a bottle or going snow shoeing. Chris, Rich, Trish and I yelled ourselves hoarse. BTW I remain a devout advocater of snow shoeing.

1. The house on the end of our street took Y E A R S to complete and as it was nearing its final stages the workmen would be over there at odd hours. During one arduous two week period they would wake us up early every morning hours before we had to work. As a joke I remark that in order to get them to stop we would have to dress up as construction workers and infiltrate their operation. That afternoon as I'm watching TV and Chris begins pulling random objects of clothing from his room. When I inquire what he's doing he replies that he thought we were going over to bother the construction workers. I admit I was joking but he will have none of it.

In a button down shirt wearing a hardhat and safety goggles clutching a clipboard I follow Chris who has on a hazzrd jacked and ear protection over to the house. As he taps on various parts of the house with a pen and nods to me I make gibberish notes on the clipboard until we attract the attention of the workers. Chris demands to see the person in charge and asks about what kind of hours they're keeping claming that we are from the head office and feel they may be starting work too soon. The foreman asks if we want to see the permit which Chris quickly agrees, I let him do all the talking since if I open my mouth I will begin laughing hysterically. The foreman returns with the paperwork which Chris studies making several side comments to me who is once again marking notes on the clipboard. Chris says we'll have take this up with our superiors and we walk home...TWO DOORS AWAY!

Top Of The Heap

2009-01-05T14:04:00.000-08:00

How often can you point to the best of anything?

The Best Movie. The Best Album. The Best Meal.

What criteria do you use?

Seeing how objective the concept of the best is, I was amazed at how clearly 2008 was the best year of boxing, I would argue, in the history of the sport. This isn't to say there haven't been bigger fighters or better fights but overall the amount of quality produced on every level is, for my money, unrivaled in any other year. Sports Illustrated loudly proclaimed 2008 as the best year for sports ever citing The Giants Super Bowl win and Phelps astounding Olympic achievement but failed to recognize the pugilist specialists who delivered one helluva show.

The standout fights:

18. Alfredo Angulo VS Richard Gutierrez
17. Bernard Hopkins VS Joe Calzaghe
16. Glen Johnson VS Chad Dawson
15. Juan Manuel Marquez VS Joel Casamayor
14. Brian Vera VS Andy Lee
13. Jorge Arce VS Rafael Concepcion
12. Carl Froch VS Jean Pascal
11. Amir Khan VS Michael Gomez
10. Chris Arreola VS Travis Walker
9. Martin Santiago VS Steve Luevano
8. Jose Reyes VS Ivan Valle (6 knockdowns in 4 rounds!)
7. Joel Casamayor VS Michael Katsidis
6. Miguel Cotto VS Antonio Margarito
5. Ricardo Torres VS Kendall Holt II
4. Steve Cunningham VS Tomasz Adamak
3. Rogers Mtagwa VS Tomas Villa
2. Manny Pacquiao VS Juan Manuel Marquez II
1. Israel Vasquez VS Rafael Marquez III

In addition to Hall of Fame showings in blowouts by Bernard Hopkins, Manny Pacquiao (in all likelihood retiring Oscar Delahoya) and Vic Darchinyan.

2009 is set to be a worthy followup but 2 years at that intensity would probably cause my heart to blow out of my chest...Here's hoping!

One Year Later

2009-01-05T13:42:00.001-08:00

So I made a 2008 resolution to keep a journal and what happens? I flake out and miss chronicling the craziest year ever. Let's try this again...

So its come to this...

2008-01-29T11:07:00.000-08:00

When I was around thirteen my blood brother Jason Farrell's mom rented the VHS of "Naked Lunch" for us. At the time it was the strangest film I had ever seen and for years it stayed with me, I didn't really find it good or bad, just this odd mixture of biography and fiction from the life of William S. Burroughs. Years later in high school, Burroughs would be at the center of a running gag for years where my friends and I would trace any of the evils of the world back to his writing (maybe you had to be there). When not busy jotting down his drug filled visions south of the border or accidentally shooting his wife during a game of William Tell, Burroughs' suggested starting a journal at a young age in order to foster creativity. Perhaps it was due to laziness or my reluctance to follow in the footsteps of an ex drug addict beat poet but I've always dragged my feet when its come to a steady record of what I've been up to. However, with 2007 being action packed and 2008 appearing to follow suit, I realize that in the years to come I will probably want some sort of accurate depiction of what went right or wrong.