I got this shirt. I don't think I could wear it. This goes to Panauh.
The jacket on the otherhand was very Rock 'n' Roll.
Thank you, Moman. I love you.
Have ya'll heard about the 16 year old kid who went to Iraq for Christmas break without telling his parents, and is now being flown home by the 101st Airborne? I thought you'd get a kick out of it.
Here it is.
Moments pass. I watch pigeons make love on an air conditioner. I smile at a cute Armenian couple doting on one another. I beam like a proud father as the Christian draws.
"That's a nice tree," I say.
"I drew it," he tells me. "It's the tree from across the street."
"Yeah," I say. "Looks good."
"Yeah," he says.
I draw the Christian.
"Want a cigarette?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says.
I don't really know why it happens either. It does though. I just start looking for other people to fill me up, rather than filling myself up on my own.
Maybe this happens for everyone. I don't know. I am done with it though. I am holding out now.
I am going to pay attention to me.
I will act in commercials and whatever else comes to me.
I will learn how to make cartoons on flash.
I am going to put out Mars or Bust, the Soundtrack on the 14th.
I'm going to put out Dear Mr. President on March 21.
I will write some novels after that.
It may seem like a lot. It really isn't though. It's just little bit, little bit, boom...
That's all. It's this simple.
I am not looking for love.
I already got it.
Bob is questioning the language behind the Koran. This is a great service to the world. In his most recent post, he questions the filtered language behind Islam's view of homosexuality. This has raised some eyebrows from the Islamic community.
I support you completely, Bob. Injustice anywhere is truly a threat to justice everywhere. Thank you for bringing your flashlight to bare.
Today I finished shooting for a film. I played the part of Massoud, an Iraqi prisoner who befriends an American soldier.
I grew a beard and gained about 10 pounds. It was fun. The crew were real professional, and the other actors were great.
Saima played my daughter in the film. She gave me a lesson or two.
"I don't like your accent," she said.
"Okay," I said.
"You're weird," she said.
"That's true," I said.
I have no pics of her. I did get a few of the American soldiers.
James Gilbert played opposite me as ALAN. [on left]
Eliah played JESSUP. [right]
And Mr. Tough Guy (not his name), played MCCLAINE.
Here they are altogether. They are a good bunch, don't you think? Who will be on your Television in the next year??
Me holding the camera again. Not so bad. It was hard though. Again, the Great Fitz makes me laugh a bit too hard. This time I just let it out. That's the only way.
Now Fitz is in Philly. The end of an era. Hopefully we will be able to make more films in March when his tour comes back to Los Angeles.
This film is a little repoire that he and I would jump into when things got a bit slow at the office.
It goes out to L.O.U., Posatko, IndianaGirl, and all my wonderful friends at the WG. I will see you all soon. I love you, P.
Click here or on pic to see The Great Fitzby in action.
Yeah, so alone
But you came into my life
and I said
I need you
all the time
Slipshod's Theme will be a track on Mars or Bust, the Soundtrack(Febraury 14th Release). This is the rough and fun cut. One take. No directions to any of the players. No lyrics. Just go. Just the way I like it. Just like this.
This song goes out to Fitz and all the rest of you crazy cats at Weller Grossman. I'll see you in 2 weeks. Keep smiling.
Click here or on Music Bar to hear Slipshod's Theme...
Vocal and Rhythm Guitar: Frank Ewing
Bass Guitar and Vocals: P. M. Kalayeh
Backing Vocals: Fitz, J. Peterson, Justin
This is what I am.
(47% dark, 76% spontaneous, 36% vulgar)
your humor style:
CLEAN | SPONTANEOUS | LIGHT
Your style's goofy, innocent and feel-good. Perfect for parties and for the dads who chaperone them. You can actually get away with corny jokes, and I bet your sense of humor is a guilty pleasure for your friends. People of your type are often the most approachable and popular people in their circle. Your simple & silly good-naturedness is immediately recognizable, and it sets you apart in this sarcastic world.
PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Will Ferrell - Will Smith
What are you?
“You got to hit the ball over there,” Dacheux tells me
“Hit the ball?”
“Yeah,” she tells me. “It's not Wimbledon. You just got to hit it
"So you're saying it's more like the Junior's? I got to work myself to the national championship?"
"Yeah, sure." she laughs. "It's the Junior's. Now you got to hit something over there. See what happens."
"Sometimes I feel like I'm in Dangerous Liaisons, the Board Game. You ever see that movie?"
"Yeah," she laughs. "That would be a great board game."
“But it can’t look like Trivial Pursuit. It has to be like Chutes and Ladders with all the ladders and everything.”
“Yeah, then we can slide down.”
Today I sit and stare. I got a heart and paperclips in my pocket. I’ve got a beard. It’s got red in it. I look in the monitor. I am handsome. This is the truth. I tell IndianaGirl. I IM it. James Bond style.
“I can see myself in the monitor. I am handsome. This is the truth. I also dance naked to 80’s jams. It makes me feel good. I am going to dance today after work. That’s it. I’ve decided.”
“I love that you told me that,” her IM giggles. “I dance naked all the time. Most girls do. I like picturing a guy dance naked by themselves. It’s sexy.”
This is the moment. No hesitation.
“You still going to do Wonder Woman for me?”
“Not in the office.”
I wait for a reply. I listen to The Slipshod Swingers. I don’t do any work. I think about fictional dates. Dacheux tells me it’s the only way.
“Yeah, I go on them all the time. I sit around on my sofa and go to New York City. I imagine what I say, what Allan will say. It’s great.”
“Mmmm. I haven’t ever done that.”
“Oh, you got to.”
It would be nice to go to the House of Pies with IndianaGirl. I would get lemon meringue. A glass of milk. We could talk about Dangerous Liaisons, the Board Game.
“Have you ever heard of it?” I ask her.
“No,” she laughs. “But I have heard of Memoir of Geisha, the Card Game.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty good. It involves a lot of looking. You got to make people stop in their tracks.”
“I could do that.”
“So you think you could make me stop in my tracks?”
I give her my look. It could melt butter. It puts Zoolander to shame.
“That’s pretty good,” she laughs. “You want to see mine.”
She tilts her head down to the pie. She laughs a little. Then [lights up.]
A man and woman sit across from one another. The woman is looking down at her pie. The man looks intently at her. She looks up.
Woman: (Laughs) Yeah, right.
Man: No, it’s devastating. I can’t even move. You are the Geisha. You win. I give up.
Woman: (Laughing) I love your style. You need to have your own reality show.
Man: Already got one. It's happening right now. It's you and me.
Man: Yeah, it is.
Woman: You want some of my pie?
Woman picks at pie. Man drinks from his glass.
They look at one another. Then [lights down.]
These songs go out to Dacheux and her beautiful smile.
Vocals and Slide Guitar: Larry Thomas More a.k.a "Fitz, the Logger."
Vocal and Rhythm Guitar: Frank Ewing
Cry (Back to Philly)
Vocals and Slide Guitar: Larry Thomas More
Vocal and Rhythm Guitar: Frank Ewing
she don't need
she don't want
she don't feel
heavy on her heart
i think she's
going to start to
to help me along
to help this song
i don't need to know
where you go
or what you know
Today Fitz made a good joke. He called my first novel, The Big Mac Chronicles. This made us all laugh. Especially me. I know the truth. Fitz is in love with his brain. This is the truth.
I have nothing else. That's it. I could make another movie on my lunch break. I could do this pretty easily. I don't though.
"What are you blogging?" Fitz asks.
I don't say anything. He sits in the chair next to me. Now he is talking again.
"What's that? What are you doing?"
He is talking about my typing. I am typing with two fingers. This is the way I type.
"You don't know how to type."
Now Fitz sings a song about how I can't type.
I am still typing with two fingers.
Tonight is Fitz's going away party. He and the rest of the band have had enough of their 500 square foot studio and Los Angeles. They are going back to Philly.
I will miss his songs. His impersonations of me. I will miss him terribly.
"What are you doing?" he says again. "That is not the way to type. You're a writer. Look how much faster I can type than you."
The office watches him type. He sings another song about my typing. I don't say anything and he gets self-conscious.
"I'm being an asshole," he says. "I'll stop."
"That's okay," I say.
"Okay," he says and then sings, "I'm Pirooz. I write books. They are about value meals. I can't type. I have a family. They are nice. I am Pirooz. I am nice."
It is amazing how much more true this song is than any bio or description has ever come.
I hope Fitz survives me. He would be great at funerals. If I ever get married, I want him to do the toast. In fact, I need to record him making fun of me tonight at the party. I will post it at around 430 AM tonight. Have a good Friday, Bloggers.
Director: Vince Braun
Ideaman: P. M. Kalayeh
Sheepman: Jeffrey Peterson
Fitz: Larry Thomas Moore
Audio: Panauh Kalayeh
To watch the film click image or here.
Thank you to Jeff Peterson for being in this piece. It was a pleasure to watch you at The Comedy Store. You humble us with Sheepman's presence here at Shikow TV.
Last night's dream:
Byron Katie rubs underneath my chin. She does the same to my parents. This makes us naked.
I am at some type of guru session. There are people crowded around Byron Katie.
I am invited to move up to her. I get in full lotus. She lifts a sheet of rock she is sitting on, and puts my legs underneath to hold me in place.
I hang underneath her. Bat style.
There is nothing underneath me.
We are suspended in the air.
I went to the Comedy Store on Sunset. I got to see Jeff and Shannon perform. They did wonderful jobs.
I was surprised how hard the comics were on themselves post-performance.
"That bit needs to be adjusted," one says.
"I was average," another says.
"Comedy is science," the group agrees.
I don't believe any of this. I know better. I have seen the same thing from musicians. I have listened to the same thing from writers. It is such a torturous way to be an artist. The idea that anything is science puts me right back into physics with Mr. Lagsney. It shows me Mr. Liu coaching tennis without being able to hit a ball. It's my dad preaching self-help books by Deepak Chopra while he terrorizes his family. It is Ann telling me my language is too romantic. It is the ESL instructor who made me practice saying "apple" when I was already reading Ghandi's "All Men Are Brothers."
When I hear comedians (can you believe it's comedians?) rip themselves apart, I see every bad teacher on this planet. I see every moment someone was put down or told they weren't good enough. I hear a father shouting about winning and losing. I hear society calling down with rules and procedures. I see the worst of religion. I see corporations squeeze America through a funnel.
I know that "Comedy" or anything as "science" is not the way to make art. I know it is not the way to live life.
Tough love does not help or nurture.
Dear Mr. President,
A big stick will not make me bend.
I know we can offer ourselves better. I know we can hold a better space.
Dear Mrs. Ellis,
I love you. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for believing in me. I won't ever forget.
Comedy is not science.
I walk like a penguin and carry a great laugh.
The Desert Rose
P.S. "Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, that is why several of us died of tuberculosis." -- Jack Handy
Vocals: Panauh Kalayeh
Don't you know I don't know
Why I'm alone
Don't you know it's all in my head
Don't you know I'd rather be in bed
But this thought keeps going round
And I don't know how to make it stop
Mary Magdeline...I need you
[I am still writing verses. Not sure where the finished product will go. We have our first recording session this Sunday at 2 pm at the Fortress of Solitude. It will be an all star cast of musicians and artists. I am looking forward to it.]
Guitar and Vocals: Frank Ewing
Present Tense, the Song
Present Tense, the Song
Why oh Why am I all alone
I want you to take me home
I don’t know where I am
I got no master plan
Don’t you know it’s no mystery
You broke my heart in two
and now I’m calling you
Oh Oh Oh
I love you my girl
You make my world
Oh, so beautiful…
You broke my heart
right from the start
but I still love you girl
yeah, I love you girl
How oh how can I kill this pain?
I want to drown in the rain.
But I can’t seem to forget.
The worst of what was said.
When oh when will she leave you now
That question don’t make me proud
Cause you know I’ve asked it too
and made it all come true
Where oh where is my cap and gown
I think I have learned it now
It just doesn’t make sense
Unless it’s present tense.
I burn sage and sweet grass. I open the curtains. Sunlight fills the room. I stare at a drawing on my altar. It is one of the first comics I did in Pittsford. The Knights of the round table. Me as King Arthur. My dad's hope for his sons. Knights.
The dream... Mine. (in photographs)...
Part I: The Bomber
1. A huge bomber is flying over China. It unleashes several million bombs. They land on the coastline. They explode. The bombs continue to fall.
2. I watch this scene with fear. I think about retaliation.
3. Missilles are shot at the bomber.
4. The bomber explodes.
Part II: Listening and Surfing
I am looking at a canopy of birds and nature. I see bugs and creepy crawly things. I watch as the birds eat the bugs. Each of the animals eating one another. I look over at my father who is watching from a distance. I tell him how beautiful it is. Then I dive into the canopy with my pillow. I surf up and down through the air like it is water. Then it becomes water.
As I surf, the pillow smooshes unwanted bugs. It is like a lawnmower clearing paths.
There are people along the shoreline. People are hungry. They are waiting for the clams to be dropped into the water. There are some clams which are already falling. Then, without warning, a huge cargo of clams emerges from the ocean. The people cheer.
I am excited and slightly terrified by the clams.
Part III: Zach
Zach Chupa (a boy I grew up with) is running towards me. He has wings. I think, "He is an angel or an angel is behind him."
Now I am looking at the Sharpie pen on my desk. It is 7:59 AM. My walls are creamy white. I have staff paper laid against a frame on my right wall.
Okay. Now I will question my mind.
First thing when I woke up, I thought about war. Then I thought about Nicole. I imagined she was with another guy. This was painful. I put my mind to inquiry right away. I asked, "Is this true?" My mind wanted to change it to "could it be true?" I asked it again. "Is this true?"
My mind said, "I don't know."
Who would you be without this thought?
"Happy," I said.
I am not my mind. Now what?
Mmmm. I accepted reality. I said, "What is reality?"
Reality is I am no longer with Nicole. Reality is she does not love me in partner terms. Reality is that even in friendship terms she is not available like I want. Reality is that I have and will be with other women. She will also be other men. Reality is that we are not together. Reality is, that although we still have to sign papers, we are divorced.
Turn it around. Nicole is not with another guy or she is. Whose business are you in? Yours, Hers, or God's?
I am in her business.
What trade of business are you in for this lifetime?
I am in the business of me.
Wow. This war dream was intense. The surfing on the bugs and water was fun. My pillow can really boogie.
What does my dream mean?