WTC

I have always known the World Trade Centers, mostly through monster movies.  The first was King Kong, from 1976.  Was the movie good?  It was good for a five year-old kid, sitting in the front row of the only Winchester movie theatre at the time.  I had read about it's production in Famous Monsters magazine (yes, I was reading at five years old), and waited in extreme anticipation for the giant robot Kong deLaurentis built for the scene where they unveil Kong to the public.  Admittedly at the time, you didn't have C-3PO or other robots that seemed alive, but KK was so fake I actually remember saying "God that's stupid" when I saw the giant KK robot.

But I was still amped for the movie... because I wanted to see Kong astride the Two Towers... like in the poster!

This scene did not happen.

In fact, KK was DWARFED by the WTC.  He was fucking tiny.  What a ripoff.  How could he fight Godzilla again if he was so small?

Of course, Toho Studios wasted no time in ripping off KK's campaign for their release of the worst Godilla movie, and the first I ever saw, Godzilla vs. Megalon.  

I've narrated my feelings on that day, 09-11-2001, before, but I thought I'd just say how much it just was... weird... to know these giant Saltine boxes that were a symbol of American ingenuity, engineering, and icons of our largest city were gone.

Also I'm 44 now.

The new record

307.


I am not trying to lose weight, I am in fact making sure to eat, knowing that the anti-depressant robs me of appettite, just when you're lazy and just eat fruits and veggies because you don't have to cook them you're accidentally healthy.

I guess this is the feeling doctors have when they expect but find no trace of diabetes in me.  "What, fatty?"

Knowing

Instead of watching Tombstone, I am watching the Alex Proyas movie, Knowing.  Nick Cage plays a good drunk, as well as a good alcoholic (there's a difference).

My love seat finally arrived, and it is kind of grounding me.  I just had to order the one color that was new to the line, so it was back-ordered until now because it was so popular.  I guess Oakland doesn't have too many furniture stores, not many choices aside from Salvation Army, if you don't mind lice and bed bugs.

Just having this piece of furniture is making me feel almost normal.  Like I've got my life together finally.  I just went potty and looked at myself in the mirror...  my stress-pimples are disappearing since this morning.  That's kind of extraordinary.   Of course I hope it continues... I'd like to actually go out to a beer bust or something (not that I'd drink much beer because yuck)(unless it's Henry Weinhardt but they don't have that on tap).

Of course, I do not want to get into a relationship.  I'm obviously not good at that.  Or wasn't, I guess, and am scared of trying again and getting burnt.  But a beej isn't outta the question.

Not that that hasn't been repeatedly offered, for some reason.  I just haven't taken anybody up on it.

Tomorrow I have to go to Michael's and get a new vinyl album frame for my FNM vinyl.  I think seeing Dale from afar build his vinyl collection is influencing me to do the same.  I am lucky to live in a city with two Amoeba Records... it will feed any addiction I might have along that route.

Now I think I am going to settle down on the new couch-ish and watch a Godzilla film, after Knowing ends.

Jumper

There are things they don't tell you before you move to San Francisco.  Most people, like I did, ask how scary are earthquakes,  and they tell you, "Eh, not so bad."  The one that hit the other morning was 4.0, and I am not kidding when I said it was pants-shitting scary.  I absolutely would have shit the bed if I hadn't dropped heat minutes earlier.

Oh, and the place smells like shit.  This is not a euphemism for anything;  the drought has meant that the sewer system gets no runoff water to lube the pipes, and the crap starts clogging the system and you can smell it walking to work from the subway.  And the poopiest part of the city?  Where I work in the Financial District.  Yay, we're number One... at smelling like number Two.

And then there's the homeless problem, which probably isn't helping matters with the poop smell.

Oh, and it turns out that mentally ill people regularly fling themselves in front of subway trains to commit suicide.

The Incredible Shrinking Man - Shake Rattle and Roll

315 pounds.

After the stroke, and getting on crazy pills for depression, and losing pretty much all appetite until I moved back home after being laid off in Dayton, I think I got down to 308.  I'm seven pounds away from my lowest weight in twenty years.

While I of course like this, it does come with irritants... I have to buy new clothes, because all the shorts and pants I have now look like clown pants.  I hate shopping for clothes.  Also, it's pretty easy to feel fat now, because it is easy for my stomach to feel full.  I guess I felt fat before and just ignored it.  After lunch today I felt like my belly was about to bust open.

(I try to eat lunch because my doctor said not to skip lunch if I skip meals.)

And then there was the earthquake.

I've ruined three lives, me, America's sweetheart...

Soapdish was exactly what I needed to watch tonight.

As you wish

I have something of more importance to document, but I will say right now that I hate that watching The Princess Bride now makes me sad rather than nostalgic.  I remember seeing it in a theatre in an extinct mall when I had just started driving.  One of the best movies of my youth.

Now it is just a reminder of what I've lost and what I do not trust myself to have ever again.

I should probably stick to Return of the Living Dead and Elvira's first movie when I want nostalgia. 

Uneeda Medical Supply

This week I met Stephen Jenkins from Third Eye Blind, and everybody in X Ambassadors.  They were really nice guys but the lead singer was a bit of a dick sometimes, although he was on the verge of getting sick and it was affecting his voice, which understably would make him grumpy.  The only bathroom was in the front room of the recording studio we were at, where our winners were being corralled, and the drummer took a fifteen minute dump in there.  I assume he was trying to minimize grunting noises.  They were all nice guys in general though, especially considering their recent success with "Renegades."

I also will have walked a total of twenty miles by Saturday, definitely a record for me.  Monday I did five miles, and marveled at my pedometer when I got home as my legs turned simultaneously into both jelly and wood.  The next morning I woke up stiff as fuck, but after a warm shower, I got on my way to the subway and had no problems.

I've mentioned that I was on my last loop on my last belt:  that belt might as well be a Hula Hoop now.  I'm gonna try to get through tomorrow and then go clothes shopping at Walmart Saturday morning.

Whoa!  I just heard thunder.  Apparently there are some storms around.  Maybe I should stop watching ROTLD again and go to bed and watch the clouds.

Sixty-Six

That's how many stairs there are to get to my apartment, which I've had to climb each day for five days with the elevator being out.  If you had told me one day I'd be doing 66 stairs a day for a week, I'd have looked at you like a tiny door opened in your head, and then a little clockwork bird popped out on a spring going "Coo-koo!"

I did sweat profusely, I did take the stairs slowly due to my stroke... but I had no trouble doing four flights.  This is way different from my past.

I no longer sit down and rest on the way to or from work from the subway.  I didn't even notice I'd stopped doing it at first.  After a week I guess I did.

I need to stop going to The Melt.  I have gained weight back.  As much as I hate shopping for clothes, I'd rather keep the weight off.  Maybe the soup place, they have an awesome Greek salad.

Anyway.  Me.

Say cheese

I may have made a big mistake today.

Since a few days have thrown the curve on my Google Fit averages, and my doctor wants me to at least not skip lunch, I've decided to start having something to nibble on around one.

I have lots of choices if I don't feel like packing my own, from sushi to chili to grilled cheese.

I used to hate grilled cheese.  But then one day when Mom offered to make me one, I remembered how dill pickle chips made pulled pork barbecue sandwiches the tastiest things ever, and wondered if they could do the same with grilled cheese.  Turns out they could.  And when I switched from the sickly, pale and translucently green normal dill chips to the robust Vlasic brand, it became a gourmet sandwich.

I learned in Boston how to make my own grilled cheese sandwiches, although I used provolone... not sure what all Dale used besides provolone in the tomato soup, but his sandwiches were good too, although I'm of the camp that prefers the tangy tomato diluted with water rather than cream.... I know this is in the minority, but it's how I grew up.

So when selecting a doctor as my primary care physician, I chose one in the Embarcadero, which is a group of four buildings that's kind of like a shopping center and business complex.  My doctor is very nice and does not judge me on my past, or at least doesn't out loud, and I appreciate that.   I am being moved off of an alpha-blocker and onto a beta-blocker for blood pressure.   Soon I'll see a neurologist, probably get an MRI.  But the Embarcadero is where I found The Melt.

The Melt is one of many grilled-cheese restaurants that build their menu around that simple item.  I'd been meaning since discovering them to come try their Italian special, but when I got there, I saw their "Well Dressed" fries--

Russetts, cheddar, fontina & jack, bacon with crispy onions

What I didn't know was that this tastes exactly like a pub I used to frequent in downtown Lexington, The Holy Grail, and yes I did Monty Python skits for their commercials.  It had great food, but nothing better than their smothered fries, which, apparently, had a couple of cheeses I'm not familiar with.  I'm gonna have to learn about jack and fontina, because these were the best smothered fries I've ever had, and they tasted exactly like The Melt's, only The Melt's Russetts weren't shoestrings.

It's a mistake because I am on the last notch on my last belt.  Was hoping to keep that extra weight off.  This may not happen, now.

What's more to update.  Everybody likes me at work.  I keep getting lascivious offers for company and turning them down.  And I realize now I shoulda got a bigger TV.

Maybe I'll correct that this weekend.

The view seen from Kelly's VISOR: T-g

My litttle brother's review of Terminator: Genisys.

Kelly Sunday-schools you on the Bible

I've always said my little brother is smarter than me (not as handsome, but smarter).  Here are his thoughts on the Bible and gays:

I actually made two posts.  Here was the first one in regards to the quote from Romans...

The words in The Book of Romans are not the words of Jesus. That is Paul speaking. And if you believe Paul, keep in mind that he forbids women to discuss matters of religion. So all you women, please stop sinning up this thread. 

Jesus never spoke out against homosexuality. Guess what? He also didn't speak out against premarital sex, didn't speak out against birth control, but did speak out against public prayer and the death penalty. He also had brown skin and long hair. But that's only if you believe what's in the Bible.

11/17 The Dresden Dolls - The Jeep Song @ Roundhouse

Inside Out

Things I did today that I could cross off my bucket list, if I had one:

1. Found a great place to have lunch in the city on the weekends, and maybe once in a while do shopping, and see movies, right off the Powell St. subway stop.
2. Bought a new love seat, realized how much I hate that term.
3. Pre-ordered Arkham Knight.
4. Saw a passed out homeless person shit his pants on the sidewalk.
5. Had a carrot-fart from eating too many carrots last night.
6. Went on a movie date with a local game programmer who is a millionaire... watched the new Pixar movie next to this beefy stud worth a few million who thinks I am hot.
7. Bought an Amazon Fire because my old tablet is dead.
8. Was solicited for sex by a stranger in a mall bathroom.

And now I'm finishing laundry.  Tomorrow:  Target and Michael's.  Now, fruit bowl.

500,000

I couldn't think of a punchy title for this post, so I just put down the number of sportsball fanatics that were here in Oakland this morning to welcome back their NBA champions.  This place looks like a shit-hole now.

Anyway, this week has been odd for a few reasons.  One, I learned my stalker is definitely still stalking me.  Second, Dale also spoke to me, in a way.  And third, nine people in South Carolina were murdered by a racist.

"Every fiber in my body hurts."

As Seen Thru Kelly's VISOR....: Jurassic World recap

As Seen Thru Kelly's VISOR....: Jurassic World recap: So the new Jurassic World film is SOOOOO predictable.   Remember that park where a T-Rex om-nom-nommed on a bunch of innocent people?  ...

Bouts and Doubts

I had another massive hit of depression over Memorial Day Weekend.  So bad I had to tell my boss about it... he knew I was dealing with depression, but not how bad it had gotten for me.  I told him the worst thing was that there is nothing wrong in my life right now.  My job is great, my workplace is great, my pay is great, my health (physical anyway) seems improving... the only bad thing I can think of is being so far from home, but I've done that before.

My meds were off.  I was not getting the correct dosage.  They've been corrected, and I wondered when they'd kick in.  Then the Bottlerock weekend came up and kicked my ass with fun.  I was front row for the Mowgli's (or as I call them, Amy Pond and the Time Lords... see the girl singer) who weren't as hippie as I thought.  I had shit seats for Cage the Elephant, because I wanted to sit near the soundboard and grab the recordings as soon as possible, and I regret that because they really rocked the house.  I didn't see Zella Day, or Young the Giant, but I did stand in the back for ZZ Ward, who is an incredible blues-influenced performer and two of her band have liked my pic on Instagram.  I sat outside and waited for Michael Zanti to finish what sounded like either an enthusiastic set celebrating life and love, or an extremely punishing exercise class.  He is pretty incredible.

I had All Access at the chateau, so I went upstairs to the kitchen to grab a drink on the last day.  Just one band to record that day.  A group of human locusts already hovered over the food display, devouring.  A couple of them were on the balcony remarking how awesome the place was, and one remarked on my t-shirt and said he was into comics too, and we geeked for a bit while I munched on some fancy sandwich.  Then I excused myself to go get ready for the show.

Turns out they were the show.  I was chowing down on American Authors' nibbles with American Authors.  While they are not quite the type of music I like, their show was phenomenal, particularly their cover of "Yellow" by Coldplay, I song I hate, but their version?  Love.

This is a good job.  I told my boss that I had a great time before leaving Sunday.

Then I got to work this morning and found out we're doing another Nickelback promotion.

++++++++

I had doubts that the increase in my meds was working, it certainly would be unusual for it to start to affect me so quickly, but I received a notice on my phone this morning that would, at one time, would have sent my brain into a tizzy of trying to figure out why and what and how and what to do.

Today I just deleted it and walked on to work.  Maybe the new dose is working after all.  Or maybe it really was the first great weekend of many here.

Never use an electric cattle prod from behind the cow.  Edit for mr smarty pants:  because they will explode a gallon of shit water on you, dumbass.

I'm going back to school to study chemistry so I can invent a shampoo that doesn't  make it look like I just spunked in my hand.  And then retire on the riches that will follow.

Five cents change

As if to punish me for being optimistic about the new job and new opportunities open to me, fate decided that one of my first promotions would be a Nickelback giveaway.

It may be cliche, but I swear to all that is holy that I had trouble figuring out which guitar riffs I recorded went with which vocals.

Also I got my first paycheck today.  That makes up for it.