aric with an a

so, I was going through an old diary to grab some details for the book [coming along quite nicely, thank you - first draft will be done by next week, I hope] and I ran across a bunch of postcards I had gotten from the past year. they’re all from the ‘bus boy’ trip, but a few of ‘em are funky enough.

if you want one, send me an address.

I know we’ve probably never met, but it could be fun nonetheless.

fun, right?

yes. fun.

we’d be having a good time.

I can’t tell you how long I’d ignored this footage in my hard drive.

but with Sarah’s birthday just around the corner, I forced myself to go thru it.

it was a good weekend - his birthday weekend, actually.

and these are just the scenes we can show you.

it ends sad, both the story and the rough little vid.

but that doesn’t mean it ends badly.

just sad.

so, sure - a crap birthday gift if you look at it that way.

but maybe it’ll bring back a load of good things.

and the people you shared ‘em with.

I think that’s what a good birthday would be.

it’s not a rare occurrence that I wish for a life more stable. a paycheck that matches the previous one, some nice things like a hanging decorative that holds both your out-going mail and your keys. a group of work pals that all share drinks and gripes on friday afternoons, things like this.

I think about this a lot.

but then, I wake up to an email of a friend having a spare ticket to see the world’s most spiritual guide and am able to drive out to long beach to take her up on the offer.

and then I stop thinking a lot about that.

I’m not bragging here, as all of my travels seem to be byproducts of generous people, but I’ve come shoulder-to-shoulder with the [previous] Pope in the Vatican. I’ve wailed at the Wall in Jerusalem, bathed [albetit, quickly] in the Ganges and have thrown offerings into the holiest volcano in Indonesia.

these things are brought up for boast by any means, only to say I’ve been lucky enough to share space with some intense spiritual energy.

but all of those combined pale in comparison to watching the Dalai Lama climb down from his perch, a perch he spoke to the thousands of us today, and reach out his hand to the young monks who for so many dawns asked him for help.

you can say what you want to about religion, about Christianity or Islam. about virgins in Heaven or a lesser-attractive St. Peter. there might be coins to help you cross that river of limbo or they might be used to feed the cows you don’t dare eat.

say what you want. believe what you want. pray to what you want. and ask things from them.

but there’s no denying the energy that this man brings to the world.

we all walked out giddy, a line formed not from a bottleneck, but from everyone letting everyone else in front of them on the escalator.

a reminder, if nothing else, that we’re all sons of Abraham - and that loving your neighbor is good. but loving 1000 of your neighbors is better.

‘pray to the God you want’ he said.

and for a brief moment, each person uncomfortable quasi-kneeling in their chairs, or some of us on the hard concrete, we did.

and for that brief moment we were comforted.

so think very carefully about what punishment lies.

and consider with all sincerity the jealousy that supposedly abides.

in a God, or many.

who wouldn’t want you to be reminded.

cause theirs has no hair and mine had a lot.

but when you’re closing your eyes,

it’s hard to differ.

over the past week, I’ve written more than 20,000 words in the novel. I’ve been diligently staying off of Facebook [for the most part, of course], and have thrown myself into getting the first draft done.

I’m not a writer, but have friends who are. different things drive them - be it love, tragedy, money or for the simple fact that they like writing.

I suppose that all of those things at one point or another have driven me.

but none more than what you see here.

it started with a little patch on my chin, this was during my time in Nepal, stuck due to the Bangkok Airport riots and not being sure how I was going to get home. a family doctor would tell me that ‘it wasn’t a big deal, happens to some guys and was probably just stress related’.

but it kept spreading.

and I started freaking out.

it was called alopecia areata but I stayed away from calling it that - mainly in due part to an episode of Arrested Development where the guy has it all over and basically becomes the laughing stock of the entire episode.

I laughed a lot when I saw it myself.

this was before I got it.

it might grow back, it might not. in some places, little white hairs grow and in some places they do not.

am I scared it will spread to my head? of course I am. but then again, I like hats, so as long as I get to keep my eyebrows, I’ll be able to deal with it.

but recently, I’ve taken it as a push.

do I consider myself to be ridiculously good-looking? no. a strong 7 and that’s the truth.

do I think I’ve gotten some of the opportunities I have been blessed with because I’m on the better end of the cute stick?

yes I do.

so, the thought of not having decent looks to sell whatever it is I’m doing scared me.

shallow? self-obsessed? sure. I’ll admit to both of those.

but it made me start writing. a whole lot.

and if you see the novel picture of me in a beret, please don’t think I’m trying to be arty.

it’s just that I received a hard lesson on what is really important.

and hey, I used to draw a goatee on myself when I was 13 with a Sharpie - and I’m not adverse to trying it all again.

just please God, let me keep the eyebrows.

I feel like an asshole. seriously.

how long has this film been out and how long have I had it sitting in my ‘movies’?

this little piece called ‘the miroir noir’.

don’t get me wrong, I like the arcade fire. always have.

but have liked them in the ‘will listen to an entire album all the way through and not get tired of them’ like them.

but I’m halfway through their doco shot by vincent morisset [someone who I'll be stalking quite a bit now] and am floored.

fucking floored.

it’s artsy, but a good artsy. I need to find out who the d.o.p. was because he deserves a mention…ah - found it: vincent moon.

wow.

that makes sense.

fuck me, it’s good.

I’m serious.

do what you need to - just get your hands on it.

best band, by far, of the past 10 years. by far.

I spent about half-an-hour on youtube and all I could find was this - but it at least gives you an idea.

go [ahem] canada!

well, that’s it.

the final ‘rough sundays’ is up and out and no more will I spend early sunday mornings recording it.

and it’s been around the block,

pre-production started in Berlin.

the pilot launched from the Florida Keys.

then came to you from Austin.

from Tennessee and then from Otis’ ranch.

Oklahoma.

Vegas.

Oregon.

Hawaii.

NYC.

the U.K.

and then Los Angeles.

I will miss it.

but 6-months and 400,000+ downloads makes me happy.

and so I’ll walk.

leaving you with, hopefully a higher appreciation for the genius that was Otis Redding and maybe a few gospel tracks that make their way into your favorites…but that’s just me wishing.

thanks, to all of those who took part in it.

I liked doing it.

it’s not often you’ll find me saying ‘I wish I had a phone’.

cause, see, for almost 11 weeks now, I’ve made it through life without one.

it’s quite nice.

last night, I really wanted a phone.

’cause, as timing would have it, I get an email from my baby brother Alex.

call me asap. it’s important, was what I had in front of me.

I can’t, I have no phone.

and then nothing back.

well, now, I freaked.

lost the plot.

emailed my mom, dad, sister.

even googled the worst things imaginable.

but would have never of guessed.

that I could have spent all of that time.

thinking of what to buy.

where to take.

the reason for his urgency.

’cause coming this May.

to a sister-in-law near me.

is someone who will call me

uncle.

[if you can see this, click here]

I can never actually describe the place I first lived in when I randomly moved to China.

but here’s a look.

as stated - nothing was done to the color or contrast, it’s actually like that.

and you wondered why I drank a lot that year.

[if you can't play this, click here]

a collection of old clips I thought long gone.

so here’s to gaby. to scott. ben and nicky. ruru. anna. sarah and alonso.

sitting on my terrace.

[and once more to scott.]

the family.