Entries from June 2008 ↓

Check out this cool piece by Alan Becker.

Needs four coats total.
One thin coat every day.
Sanding in between.

You know that feeling when you’re sleeping and having an insanely gnarly dream that feels so real, and yet a dark corner of your mind realizes it’s only a dream, giving you total consciousness of the fact that you’re caught in some sort of limbo of awareness where you’re simultaneously being subjected to all the elements of the dream while also possessing the knowledge that the dream is just an isolated layer beneath a truer reality, almost inviting you to try controlling the outcome of the dream as if through magical powers, and part of you feels trapped, and another part of you doesn’t want to wake up, and that feeling, while so identifiable, dodges every possibility of being accurately described with any amount of adjectives available in the English language? You know that feeling?

That’s how life feels right now.

Missed STP in Vegas a couple weeks ago for last minute reasons. Ended up doing a school night rally the other night here at the Hollywood Bowl. Beautiful night. Wish I had more pics. This is the only one I’ve got, courtesy of Big J.

Decent show, but I have two complaints:

1. No beer poured after 10PM???
2. NO STILL REMAINS???

On the lower White Point Nature Preserve slash Nike Missile Base, looking east just before sunset. The pups are gazing at this battery up there on the hill.

A man owes the IRS ten thousand dollars, and only has five. Under a tremendous amount of stress, he goes into a church to seek guidance.

“Lord,” the man prays. “I’m at the end of my rope. I own the IRS ten thousand dollars, and I’m five grand short. Please, show me the way.”

To his surprise, the man hears a Voice coming from on high. “Take your five thousand dollars to Vegas.”

“Are you kidding me?” the man asks.

“Trust Me,” the Voice says. “Take it all to Vegas and we’ll go from there.” =continued=

Finally met my new nephew yesterday. Zayne Thomas Albao, via Jonny and Holly.

Took me forever to get him to laugh. I ended up having to tell him the one about the frog who walked into a bank. Then he lost it.

George on death:

Been taking a little bit of a break this past week, with a brother from another mother crashing on the couch. The other night I did get a start on touching up the existing floor adjacent to the outside of the piece. I used Minwax Golden Oak 210B, which seems to be working fine. One thing I noticed (read: live and learn) is that some of the wood filler I applied to the crevices on the outside got soaked up by the freshly sanded oak, and subsequently doesn’t take the stain exactly the same way as the real wood. Semi-ugh, but I’ll just consider it one of those disclaimers they tag on wood or leather products declaring that “any imperfections enhance the beauty” of said product.

After this I’ll probably need to sand the edges of the whites, and then it’ll be time to break out the Varathane.

Along with approximately seventy-nine trillion other things, I’m part Wyandot Indian. The Anglofied spelling of our people is “Wyandotte”, with their motherland being smack dab in the middle of the United States in Kansas.

My maternal grandmother, Gran, is the person that gave me this heritage. I just received an informative email from her, and rather than explain, I figure I’ll just post it here:

Hi Jace:

I have been “googling” just now and…

Time out for a second. Gran’s in her nineties and she’s getting her Google on. Does she not rock or what? LOVE IT.

Sorry about the interruption. Anyway:

Hi Jace:

I have been “googling” just now and brought up “Jace Daniel Albao.” At the mention of Wyandot I suddenly noticed the paragraph about the Wyandot Cemetery in Kansas City, Kansas. It tells of 100 years struggle to maintain this land as a cemetery, with other tribes wanting to establish it for commercial gambling. My mother told me at one time that it had been considered a shrine.

My Indian family is buried there, including my grandmother and grandfather, which took place in my lifetime, plus several generations of family. It hurts me very much to recall my grandmother’s many futile efforts to regain the land that had once been ours (where the present airport exists today) and it was her prime interest for many years. She even went to Washington D.C. to study and research at the Congressional Library and later could talk for hours on the subject. And my greatest regret is she died before the decision to award to 400 Indians the $1600 that was rightfully theirs. My children were awarded the original $1600, as they were all at least 18 years of age. My grandchildren, except Heather, received their checks bearing interest accrued by the time each was 18 years old. You now know a little part of the story and should understand that’s how you were able to buy your first car, if I correctly recall.

Another thing I remember: the tribe was Catholic and in my mother’s family her mother (my grandmother) was one of three sisters all Catholic, but at an early age she became a Protestant. No doubt this caused some friction at times.

Just a bit of family history I’ve given you. Google does a good job of explaining the history of the Wyandots. I find as I grow OLD that reminiscing plays an important role in my life.

Take care and invite us to see your beautiful home once it’s finished.

Love,

Gran

Thanks Gran. Much love backatcha. I’ll have a bottle of scotch ready. How do you and Grandpa like your filet mignon?

“The greatest thing by far is to be a master of metaphor.”
– Aristotle

Discovered in a barley field in Wiltshire, the most complex crop circle of all time is a coded representation of the first ten digits of pi: 3.141592654.

Bluh’ee ‘ell, tha’ is fucking cool. I’d like to by those blokes a round of Bass.

(via Telegraph.co.uk)