Ugga Ugga Ugga

I got the coffee whatthefucks.

Patton Oswalt Married My Cousin

It's a travesty.  No matter how much you prepare and cushion your time for an impending whathaveyou, no matter how much time you allow for resting, groceries, getting high and coming down, thinking, showering, visiting Toby in Los Feliz, playing GTA: Liberty City and rehearsing, The Thing eventually sneaks up on you*.  Then you think "Wait a minute!  I made sure I had all this time!  Why is it that now I have no time?!"  This isn't to say you end up unprepared regardless-no no no.  In fact, you may be completely ready.  But the fact remains that you no longer have all that pre-luxury.  That's gone.  Done.  It's time.

This is the injustice I see with both life as a whole and also having a job that starts at 2:30pm.

But no matter.

Everything is nothing...

...man.

People...share love,
Find your Ardency.
-LS^2

* I currently have no access to/involvement with Los Feliz, getting high or GTA: Liberty City.  Know this.

The moon and other such lights.

Poor Edward

Poor Edward

by Tom Waits

(click poor Edward)

Not as poor as Edward,

-LS^2

Your God Damn Journal

As a young lad, I would have a thought and just shout it.  Say it.  Speak it.  Spit that shit.  Then came my obsession with Journaling.  Anything I thought, I would write in my Journal.  And if I didn't have my Journal, then I would write it on a photograph.  Or a post-it.  Or a phonebook cover.  Then I would staple or tape or glue that foreign object into my Journal.  Once when I was 20, I left my Journal in another city for 2 weeks.  I felt like my baby was stuck in a hotel a county away.  So I transformed a notebook I had into Makeshift Harold and chronocled my goings on in him for a while until I got my baby back.  But after a while, I stopped Journaling so much.  There was a gap where I went back to just shouting.  Then came e-mailing.  I like creating long stupid e-mails and sending them to everyone in my contacts list.  That was a hoot.  Then came texting.  More one-on-oneness.  But I soon felt that I wasn't hitting a large enough sampling of people and I had tired of hand-picking them.  That's where the Facebook status update came in.  I chose my moments carefully, but I like throwin' shit out there.  It was gold, even if no one "Liked" it.  But of course, I have forsookinded Facebook and now I have this shite blog.  Now when I think of something, I think "I should put it there."  Meanwhile, I don't talk to anyone and my Journal hasn't been touched in weeks.  I'm a god damn sellout.  I'm the type of person who would forget the little guy if I ever hit it big.

What a dick.

"What's up, Fatlip?"
"Coolin'."

-LS^2

"Our brains won't fail E'ER!"

-Bakester, Sparko & I, September, 2002

Marco and I wrenchin' hard.

Ken's encouragement immortalized above.

Christmaswrench, 2003.

photo: Matt Mallams

PA Lucas de los Tres Amigos.

Documenting the disorder.

More wrenchin' was done in that
apartment than anywhere else e'er.

Note my trademark half-shaved face.

A page from my muse, Mr. Matt Mallams.

Click for

"What's Up, Fatlip?"

Blog 'em Up

Yes, yes, and who doesn't enjoy a good blog 'em up, eh?!

How've ya been?  Eatin' right?  Gettin' your proper amounts of sleep and sunshine?  Makin' sure you talk to your parents and/or illegitimate children every 10 days?  If you answered Yes to any of these questions, then I ask you: you think you're better than me?!

Last Friday was Buddha's birthday, so I had a drive 'em up to a temple that's only open once a year for this glorious occasion.  The drive was quaint and early, the shuttle bus was decorated with all sorts of loveliness and the walk up to the gate was serene.  Unfortunately, the combination of my slight hunger, my mild fatigue and my impatience with certain aspects of my surroundings put me in a sour mood.  I tried to wear a happy face-or, if not a "happy face," a "No, no, I'm not irrationally pissed" face.  I think I did okay, but I certainly wasn't honoring the beauty of the day as much as I could have.  I did see beautiful waterfalls and gorgeous woods-I haven't forgotten about that.  I spent a moment inside the temple apologizing to Buddha for my temperament and asking if he by chance was able to help me flush it out lickety split so I wasn't such a wet rag.  He did no such thing, instead leaving me to my own devices.  I hold no grudges against him.  I did not stay for the ritual lunch of 비빔밥 (bipimbap: rice and veggies all orgied together), but instead we left a little early and ate  순대 (soondae: blood sausage and intestines).  Not very Buddhist of us, eh?  Well, we aint Buddhist, is we?

Then Sunday I went to Seoul for a Sigur Rós show.  I don't know much about them except that Jeremy Gladen did a movement piece to one of their songs about 5 years ago that I quite enjoyed.  Only time in Astroglyde history a piece went with no words, doncha know.  I sat with a gal I met 3 months ago and was pleasantly pleased that we still got along.  She talked in a devil voice more often than most people and gave me a bottle of wine.  Is there any quicker way to my heart?  Well, maybe if you give me a skirt as a parting gift...which she did.  Huzzah!

So the Insanity workout just never yields the results I'm looking for.  But it's not Shaun T's fault, it's mine.  He has a very specific program set up, and like they told us in sales school: "If you follow our instructions 100%, you'll get back 100%.  But if you only follow 90%, don't expect to get 90% back."  Okay, they actually never said that, but the sentiment was beat into our heads: Total compliance or you're on your own.  I don't follow the nutrition guide, I skip a Saturday here and there (and there and there)...my bad.  And I frequently engage in a drink 'em up.  There's the rub right there, man.  There it is right there.

Should I stay or should I go?  Oooh, so many life questions on the horizon.  Which to choose?  What to do?  Aye aye aye, Sailor.

Sometimes I think "Man, it'd be dope to never have to work and have all the money I need."  But you know what?  I'm not sure what I'd do with all that time and money.  Not saying I wouldn't figure it out, I'm just sayin' it'd take some careful consideration.  A long think 'em up.

I write a lot of fiction.  First person sorta stuff.

Koreans won't hesitate to call you fat if they think you are.

Hearing Marco's music makes me miss him terribly.  I'd like to get his ass into rehab.

I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again: if any of you have cool clothes you wanna send me, you're welcome to.  I won't be upset.  I'll even thank you.  In song.  Or a GIF if that's your thing.

Journal more.

Internet less.

Have a laugh 'em up, often and openly.

With that, I leave you to your motivations and cares.

Hug 'em up,
-LS^2

Jonno and I lookin' damn good.

This girl plays at every open mic we do.

I met Robert Downey Jr.

The best picture I got of Sigur Rós.

I was looking up "lightening damage" pictures.

Definitely been listening to a

lot of OFWGKTADGAF.

Candida

This is a video of Candida singing a song in New Orleans.  Candida was the first girl I met when I visited Iowa City to take my placement tests before college.  She and I were the only ones to place into an advanced Spanish program.  She also lived in Korea.  She binds books.  She seems hip.

Take 'er Easy, Y'all.
It's Friday.

-LS^2

Candida.

Time For You, Time For Free

Yo.
So we're doin' these Open Mic Nights, right?  And we're lookin' to get as many people as involved as possible.  But some people might be scared, nervous or otherwise uninterested in standing at the amp and causin' a happening.  But that don't mean you can't get in the fracas...

You have a poem you want songed?  A song you want poemed?  A story you want read?  An idea you want manifested with the help of Count Salazar?  Hit me up.  If you're local, maybe we can perform it together.  Or, if you'd rather, we can just craft it together and you can leave the performing up to me.  Or however you'd like to do it.  If you're not local (and reading this from America or space), I'll try and record it for you.  The name of the game is Community.  So if there's something you'd like to share and see shared, get at me.  If nothing else, it'll be a good way to get some free wine out of me.

And, as always, you're encouraged to add anything of your own completely on your own that you'd like, whether it be performance, visual, digital files or misguided eating contests.

Comment below.
Or at LucasBSalazar (at) GMail (dot) Com

May you walk in the light of the good graces you create.

-LS^2

"Satan!"

Paramount Explodes in Section 8 Housing District: Authorities Alerted but Cannot Be Bothered!

I always think about updating this but never have anything to share on which I feel like spending any time.

I'm sweaty as hell 'cause I'm back on the Insanity.  Shaun T is my master and Marlene is my muse.

There is another Open Mic Night this Saturday at Café Maybe.  Would you like to come?  I will be playing some songs and reading a short story.  Hopefully other people bring something to show, because I'm weary (but willing) to pull the trigger on my Eating Contest for One That Nobody Wants to See idea.  Unless Aunup's game.  Then he'll eat with me.  I just fear it will be beneath him.  But me?  Nothing's beneath me.  Nothing.

Are you aware by chance of how unbelievably beautiful Goldie Hawn was as a young woman?  She was funny, charming, gorgeous and hip.  And psychedelic.  I like all those things.  Dare I say that all falls into my "type."  I don't think I really have a "type," but if I did in early '72, Goldie would be the epitome of it.  Of course, I'd be negative 9 years old, so she probably wouldn't go for me.  But that's before she met Kurt Russell, so who knows?

The weather outside is beautiful.  It's bloomin' and warm and people are wearin' shorts and t-shirts and skippin' and ploppin' and and and yup yup.  I love it.  Reminds me of a place I used to live.  Somewhere warm...somewhere...East.  West?  Good God, I'm losing my bearings!  Ahh!

A. Dola Baroni is talented, beautiful and dope.

My water heater's running, so I'd better go catch it.  Hardy har har.

ILLS

-LS^2

Maybe this is my type.

Certainly my nemesis.

Potentially my Soulmate...

Free toast, nucka.

"...and when they fell, he simply

piled them up again." (Lavusacas, 4:08)

Dr. J's popularity never diminished, it

just moved SouthEast Asia.

These lovely women sold me a beer and

gave me a chocolate.  Then we talked at

each other.  They did not, however,

let me play their guitar.

See?

(click my picture and watch me dance)

I dare you to cuter.