Inspiration deprivation

Man, I am a blogging fool. Enjoy this while it lasts, kids, because I doubt I'll be able to keep up this level of output for long.

So in my improv class tonight, we were talking about inspiration and where it comes from. In improv, you're supposed to get inspiration from your scene partners, so that things they say inspire you to say things that inspire them and on and on in a awesome spiral of creation. It got me thinking about inspiration and the things that inspire us.

People are inspired by different things. My brother Josh is often inspired by stupid things like rock climbing and nature. These things cause him to write a few lines of a song. He then pawns this skeleton of a song off on me and leaves me to flesh it out into all its glorious majesty. (Okay, that only happened once. But it was the only song we've written together, so I can claim it sets a precedent.)

I'm often inspired by things I don't understand. Whenever I feel myself getting over-confident or cocky, I think of all the things I couldn't explain to cavemen. Seriously, think about what would happen if you were transported back to cavemen days or even the days of Romans. You could tell them ABOUT a lot of cool things, but how much could you really explain so that they could develop it? Not a whole lot, I'm guessing. Take music recording, for instance. I don't even want to think about CDs, that involves lasers and crap. Even cassetes use high-tech stuff like magnetic tape. But forget all that, I don't even understand records! Here's a round plate of vinyl that has grooves on it. You scratch a needle across it and music comes out? How the crap does that work?

I forget how that inspires me, but it does. Maybe it just reminds me not to be jaded and to let myself be filled with wonder every now and again. Because there are lots and lots of wonderful things out there. Like a dude rapping out his apartment window. So my advice: let yourself be inspired by something today.

Maybe something like rock climbing.

Apartment Window Carnival

Well, I sent out quite a few e-mails today to say hi to people, so there actually might be people reading this. If there are, then hi. Feel free to make comments and make me feel important. Because that just doesn't happen as much as it should.

So there's this apartment window in the building just south of mine. I walk past it every time I walk to the El. And almost every time I do, there's something crazy going on. It's the most entertaining window on the block, which isn't saying much, because most of them are just closed. Anyway, one morning I walked past this window and there were beats coming out of the window. Also coming out of the window was the head of a large black man, who was rapping. He was seriously just rapping out his window. I looked around to see if there was anyone he was specifically rapping at, like maybe he was having a battle with a dude in a window across the street, but there was nothing. He was just rapping. It was pretty good (as if I'm an expert) so I bobbed my head appreciatively as I walked by. I doubt the approving head bob of a white boy really meant much to him, but I like to think that I made his day.

So today, I walk by and there's a different black guy holding a little baby girl. She was a pretty cute baby, at least from my vantage point on the street. As I walked by the guy held the baby up to the window and said (I swear I am not making this up), "Wave, baby. Wave to the white boy." I think I managed a weak wave and a hi before walking away, shaking my head at how hilarious and yet sad the whole situation was. I can't help but think that after that exchange, the little baby received its first speech on why she shouldn't trust the white man. I'm glad I could be the instigator for that.

So this window has set quite a precedent for entertainment. It better not let me down. Tomorrow I'm hoping for something involving pyrotechnics and Public Enemy. I'll let you know.

Look, I'm like the President!

This can be considered to be my one and only pre-emptive strike:

Josh, get your own blog.

That is all.

The first degree

Are you aware that a sunburn is actually categorized as a first-degree burn? It really makes sense, seeing as the word "burn" is half of the word, but you never really equate the two. At least, you never do until your back feels like you were roasted on a spit over a campfire.

That's a funny term. Spit. Why is that cooking device called a spit? If there's one thing I really don't want to think about in terms of food preparation, it's spit. Gross.

Anyway, I'm sunburned, which means I went to Florida. But now I'm back. Sunburn aside, it was a wicked good time. Hanging out with family on the beach, taking the boat out, and experiencing the incredible wealth of South Florida. There's really nothing that compares to seeing a Travel Channel report on the new Lamborghini that you just saw drive by ten minutes before.

To close, here are some things I recommend:
-Having a laptop and Family Guy DVDs to watch on trips. Really makes the trip fly and the people around you get really jealous and try to watch even though they can't hear the words.
-Owning a Lamborghini.
-Knowing how to spell Lamborghini.
-Wearing sunscreen. (Geez, who would have ever thought that novelty song by Baz Luhrmann would turn out to be so true?)

And some things I don't recommend:
-Raising your risk of skin cancer.
-Carrying luggage on sunburnt shoulders.
-Skateboarding in front of a Lamborghini.

P.S. Josh and I are the best cousins. We feel good knowing that the two things we taught our younger cousins were the phrase "pedophilic tendencies" and the game where farting directly on someone means you own them. Now Rex owns Josh 4 times and me twice. We're such good role models.


Welcome. Tonight, we have a really big show.

Well, I finally gave in. Welcome to my blog, everyone. The mere fact that it exists makes me a little sick. I feel like I'm joining a very exclusive club of bored teenagers who want to feel important and political blowhards who need a pulpit to spout from. I'm very proud to be in this club. You know it's exclusive when all you need to get in is an e-mail address. That's like a bouncer letting you in the club because you have a face.

At any rate, the main reason I started this thing is to give everyone who cares (read: my mom) a chance to keep up with me throughout the summer and maybe even longer, if I like it. So I'll try to make it a mix between mind-numbingly dull recitation of the day's events and unfiltered rambling of my thoughts. As in much of life, a happy medium is in order. I'll also try to keep this thing as current as possible, but don't kill me if I don't. This whole thing is just an experiment, and it may produce penicillin or it may cause all my hair to fall out. So let's give it a shot. Feel free to comment and let me know you're reading. That way we can all wander around...still lost, but at least lost together.