Pages of Euphoria
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
  The Highlight Reel
I like reasons to make movies. While not examining all of or even the most popular of reasons to make movies, I will focus on THE one at hand. Wesley Greenberg, the middle brother of the Greenberg trifecta, asked me to make a short piece roughly five minutes in length. His parameters were eloquently stated as "just make it of all the cool shit you've seen in your travels." He is participating in a collaborative concert by producing one song, and he wanted both something visually stimulating in the background and from what I understand, something inspiring to create to.

So it was this that I tried to provide for him. It was an extremely enjoyable challenge as the inspiration to make a short clip like this hadn't really presented itself. As many of my friends know, I do love to make short documentaries/slide shows with tunes about the countries and cultures I have experienced. However making a highlight reel of sorts simply of my favorite footage was a task that had not entered my mind. Thank you kindly Wes (Smeagol) for giving me that creative challenge and choosing to include me in your music production school work.

The clip is finished and posted here for everyones viewing pleasure, should you choose to view it pleasurably. There is little to no cohesion in the clip as it jumps quickly between content that is very different. It is simply a collection of the cool shit I saw in my wanderings through out the globe. One unifying theme may exist, and it consists of the things I find beautiful. Those things are usually extreme landscapes, and real people showing true emotion. Wes' concert is in a few weeks, and his music is forthcoming. For now, I have added my own soundtrack of Trent Reznor and Jose Gonzales. Enjoy.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008
  At Odds (reprint)
The whrrr of the drying machine takes my brain on a sleepy course. Reading my book is becoming futile as I try to pass the time between loads of clothing being washed or dried. Its my quiet time. Where conversations are avoided; internet, tv and the beckon of my thigh master are out of mind. However, the joy I WAS taking in my gluttonous lethargy is starting to dwindle. I feel myself attenuating to something. What is it? It sounds like a woman having a conversation with her dog. Shitballs.

"Do you want to go wait in the car?!?!?" she inquires with a stern voice, believing that the animal understands the ultimatum.
"Yip Rowrk!" the dog answers breaking his silence rule.
"Now that's enough!"

Clearly it wasn't enough, as the tiny phallic shaped dog gets into another yipping match with the resident rat dog, a 4 lb poodle named Charlie.

Now this middle aged woman is walking around with her dog perched on her shoulder, the dog looking more like some insecure piss ant parrot who wouldn't eat a cracker drenched in cheese. The weak parrot impersonator is not the issue, its the fact that this woman, Deb we'll call her, is carrying around this animal on her shoulder and having a conversation with it. Why do people do this? How is this behavior acceptable in our society? Where would Charles Darwin put this dog breed named wiener (being toted by the homunculus Deb) in his theory of survival of the fittest?

Some people find this babying and cooing behavior cute, I find it not only unnatural, but downright inflammatory. I mean, I understand companionship, and how important it is to have it. But Deb, do you have to carry the wiener K9 on your shoulder everywhere with you like its some kind of mini deity? Deb? Simply At Odds.

Staying with this fun theme of things being at odds, I would like to reiterate that this rant of mine was realized and inspired in a downtown Edmonds luandromat, where $1.50 washes you half a hamper. I am fortunate enough and cool enough to be living in my parents house which was recently appraised at around $3 million*****. That dollar amount is slightly misleading, or completely at odds with both the Greenberg frugality complex (or GFC) and general Greenberg ethics. For example, father Charles would sooner hop in a vat of molten lava than pass up a penny or nickel left on the side walk. Zach Greenberg as recently as 6 months ago, asked a waitress if the refills on his diet coke were free (this is actually completely condonable behavior, yet still humorous to think about). I am living in a fairly expensive house which throw around descriptive attributes like pond, and pool, and spiral stair case(s) I and am washing my black work socks at a laundromat. At Odds, and I could not be more in love with it.

*****First and foremost, allow me to apologize for sounding like the biggest schmuck ever to grace the blogosphere. I put that dollar amount out there to mock the fact that I was washing my dope threads at a laundromat for $1.50 a load, and in fact our clothes washer had decided to overdose and die on my dads BVDs.
Friday, May 02, 2008
  New York, New York
A trip already achieving the status of an instant classic; like a 21 year old Jack Nicholson. Maybe its the music playing that's causing my nostalgia for the times and experiences only just had a week ago. Maybe it was just one of those experiences that had the perfect blend of personalities, alcohol, captain crunch, nudity, offensiveness, and friendship. Add to that a backdrop consisting of little old New York City, the greatest fucking city in the world (12% Jewish).
Parker Montgomery (White Ghost) and myself Joseph Greenberg (Wolfman) decided to visit our bushy browed and outspoken friend Elija Sonkin (Huge Jew), who is currently living on 1st ave and 13th street in the east side of Manhattan. We ascended the subway steps off of the L train to enjoy the caress of sublime sunshine. It felt good, the air was city fresh, and I had already been verbally accosted by some impatient woman whose parents clearly did not love her and whose look screamed sexual frustration from a bullhorn. God bless NYC. I was immediately struck by the scene of this small portion of Manhattan...its' electricity. I saw it in the ass tight jeans and vintage T's, in the sleeve tattoos and skateboards. I felt it in the way people walked and talked, the way they looked you in the eye, (in stark contrast to the Northwest where eye contact is usually averted and saying hello to a stranger is inappropriate). Basically everyone in Eli's neighborhood was a raging hipster, with enough style points to make Andrew Waits swoon. I came to find this electricity was generally reflected and conducted everywhere in NYC.
Allow me to digress for a moment. To those of you who are Eli curious/concerned/conscious, the guy is doing good. He is dropping an obscene amount of rent money for one bedroom in a 3 bedroom apartment, somehow staying fiscally afloat. He shares the living space with two other lads, one very cool individual named Phil, and one very out of touch Brian who gives their otherwise nice apartment the feel of a cesspool. While Phil (a bartender) showed us to the fruits of an open bar our first night, Brian treated us to the smell of his feet, his round the clock abuse of drugs, and his overall lack of decency. The presence of someone has never repulsed me in such a way. The Pages of Euphoria are not intended to slam, or focus on the negative (if only to provide poetic description), so I will not linger on that topic of disgust. Eli continues to surround himself with a cast of colorful characters to say the least. Oh yeah, this is his current romantic interest, found through the vessel of a Jewish dating service. In a drunken 4am stupor I managed to desecrate her lacey white shirt that cost almost as much as my plane ticket with a red creamy Indian sauce. We have since become facebook chums. Jamie, you have officially arrived.

Of the thousands of things to do and see in New York City, Parker and I accomplished only a few; but a select few that I remember fondly. After being separated in the subway system because Parker decided to hop on a train as the doors were closing, severing me like a newborn from its placenta, we were able to miraculously meet back up in Time Square. Without the use of our cell phones, true story. Times Square leaves me feeling uneasy. On its surface, it is an astounding testament to mans' ability to build unnatural things. I feel like Times Square should be included in the definition of meg·a·lo·ma·ni·a:
1. A psychopathological condition characterized by delusional fantasies of wealth, power, or omnipotence.

2. An obsession with grandiose or extravagant things or actions. See Times Square.

What other place has a 3 level shopping store (whose designers were clearly on LSD) solely dedicated to the chocolate candy M n M's. Other NYC dopeness consisted of making it on my favorite show, Late Night With Conan Obrien, and it came at a cost; though not in dollars. I went to bed Monday morning (4/28) at 2am, to rise at 6am so that I could get to NBC studios at 30 Rockefeller Center at 7am, only to wait in the cold and wet for 2 hours. And of course, seeing Conan was worth it and made my I truly have a heart felt love for him. The speed and ferocity of his comic wit, and his childlike zest for life are both things that I try to emulate every day.
Being an adult yet keeping childlike excitement and or the ability to gracefully pull off being immature is something that I value. For example, while getting dessert with Eli, Jamie (Jdate flame) and her friend Bonita Applebaum, our excess marshmallows provided the perfect setting to play the game Chubby Bunny. If you haven't played this game in 24 hours or 24 months, just play it, especially in a public place, I guarantee big laughs. Of course I destroyed my opposition packing in 7 marshmallows while still being able to eloquently pronounce the words Chubby Bunny without activating my gag reflex. My mouth is apparently cavernous, and its a shame I'm not gay. My prize for winning was a personalized tour of the Brooklyn Promenade, a boardwalk of sorts with a breathtaking and intoxicating view of Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, and the Manhattan skyline. The skyline was not unlike rows of jagged metal teeth in a yawning skull, glinting with electrical light. It was truly an incredible sight. And it was that sight amongst others that I was revisiting in my head on the flight back home. A New Yorker told me that you visit the big city of dreams once, and you will most definitely come away with a story to tell. I know now he spoke with wisdom, as even though I did not buy material souvenirs, I still came home with a trove of gems.
ps. P, my most esteemed travel partner, lets plan the next destination.

Read up on the portion of this life which I have chosen to make accessible to you. Or if it is simpler, just give me a jingle and we can shoot the breeze. Either way, forget about the time, what productivity means or anything that might be pressing and get lost in some thought and imagination.

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Location: Los Angeles, California, United States

I come from a small town north of Seattle, WA, where I learned that rain is a magical thing because it turns things green. I have had the chance to go a few places and see a few things of which all I have are pictures, memories and stories. I am currently living and learning about Los Angeles, California, and what it means to be an Angelino.

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