2010..

This will be my last post of 2010, and I can't believe it. This year has gone by so fast, and it's amazing to me what I've accomplished in those short 365 days. I have so many people to thank for all the great things I've been able to do this year, and even more people to thank for helping me start what I've started. The saying, "it takes a village to raise a child," is one of the most true statements ever spoken. Family, friends, teachers, strangers even, these people all influence your life in one way or another and help form you into the person that you are, and I've got many friends to thank, family as well. But, if I had to thank one person for making all this possible, this blog I mean, I'd have to thank Simon Gutkin. I was really wishy-washy about starting a blog, scared that people wouldn't read it, and even if they did, they would dismiss it as being childish or badly written. He was the one who told me, "Just do it, if you don't like it, or it sucks, you can stop." I started the blog, people started reading, people started liking, and I just kept writing, so Simon, thank you, thank you, thank you! When I make my first million, you get 15% ;)

But, as one year ends, another begins. 2011 seems to hold many promising new opportunities, and I sincerely hope that I'm right about it. 2010 opened me up to a whole new part of myself that I never knew existed, and I think in 2011, that part of me will begin to develop even more, as will my writing. I've made many New Year's Resolutions, some more personal than others, but I know that they're all worth trying to accomplish. 2010 was just the beginning, everyone. I'm extremely excited to see where it goes from here. Where life takes me, and where my good friends and family will help lead me.

2010 was also a huge year of maturity for me. Those who knew me in 2009, know how much I've changed as a friend and as a person. Some believe for the better. Others, well, not so much. I'd like to take this time here to apologize to anyone that I've done wrong to. I know I'm not always the easiest person to be around, but my intentions aren't malicious. I try to please everyone, and sometimes, it blows up in my face. So for that, I'm sorry, and I'm trying to work on my humbleness and social accessibility. What I mean by that is, just being an easier person to talk to, someone to relate to. I tend to sometimes distance myself, but still try to be the center of attention. This really isn't the way to do things because to get, you have to give. If I want friendship, I need to give it too. My friends have been more than understanding with me, and for that, I thank you.

Finally, 2010 has held some of the best friendships I've had the opportunity of making. People like Simon, Abbi, Aya, Dani, Melissa, Piera, Quetzalli, Meghan, Stephanie, Lizz, Nikki, Mason, Richard, Claire, Alana, Meghan H., Matthew, Hunter, Melissa, Chloe, Jessica, Marcus, Michelle, Aubreya etc. If I forgot your name, I'm very sorry, I'm just trying to make a point. Also, I've also had the opportunity to talk to some of the most down-to-earth and amazing celebrities on Earth, some of which I still keep in touch with to this day. People like Ned Vizzini, Dania Ramirez, Justin Eugene Evans, and Ross Marquand. To those people, I'm more than grateful that you let me interview you, and really get a chance to get to know you better.

I just want to wish everyone on Earth, all 6 billion of you, a happy new year, and 2011 will be awesome. I can feel it. To end this post, I'd like to post some of the great things people have told me about the blog. These comments have made me so grateful that people can relate to what I say. You guys, the fans, the readers, whatever you want to call it, you guys are the reason I write. Without you, this blog would've been over by it's second or third week. I'm eternally grateful, that even if I decide to retire from this blog in 6 months, that I had the opportunity to do this in the first place, and make you guys laugh, cry, think, whatever it is I did to help you. Now, don't worry, I'm not going to retire from writing in 6 months. Unless of course everyone decides to abandon me. Just kidding. But anyway, on to the comments, and again, thank you so much for your continued support, and I hope you all have an amazing 2011. I know I will.

"Oh my gosh(: Joey..You have such an amazing blog; I'm blown away every time I read it (I know it sounds corny but it's true :D) I LOVE reading it anytime I get a chance (: Please don't ever stop (:"

"I hope that you turn your blog into a book. I never was so interested in a blog at all, I didn't even know what it was, but it changed my life."

"Your blogs bring joy to my life."

"I love your point of view on things."

"I love your blog. Every time you post that you have a new blog, I read it. It's very refreshing, funny and real. I love it. Keep posting and I'll keep reading!"

Thanks for reading :)

Siblings..

A couple of days ago, my sister Jia did something she'd never done before. We were getting into an argument, and for the first time ever, she made fun of my stutter. When she did this, I was absolutely speechless, and had no idea how to come back at it. Out of impulse, I yelled at her and ended the fight, but I couldn't stop thinking about what she said to me. Anyone who knows me, knows that yes, there are times when I joke around about it, but it's one of the few things that I get very defensive over. At the time, it seemed like Jia had some ulterior motives to really hurt my feelings, and get me to get so mad that it seemed like I'd be the bad guy. In retrospect, I don't think she truly had any malicious intent, but she also has to know her boundaries.



I'm not here to complain about how mad I am at her, I'm here to comment on what she did, and why she may have done it. Jia's been getting on everyone's nerves lately, and she's been throwing fits almost everyday. She never used to do that, but it's becoming more and more frequent as time goes on. I honestly think that there's a reason for it. As Jia gets older, she's getting smarter at an alarmingly rapid rate, and with this knowledge, comes curiousity. She wants to see how far she can push people before they get mad at her. I really don't have much patience, and I've got a very bad temper. She knows this, and uses it, not against me in a negative way, but in a way to get my attention. Like I said before, I'm not complaining, I'm just writing about what I see. And what I see is, Jia's maturing much more than she knows. It's kind of crazy to see this, being with Jia her entire life, and seeing how she's developed as a person. Thankfully, I also have the opportunity to see this growth with my brother Max too. I guess I'm pretty blessed huh?

Also, a couple of weeks ago, maybe a week ago, I don't keep track, I found a few of my friends from my hometown, Tenafly. It's crazy to see people that I went to kindergarten with, and see that they're still fun and cool. So, this is a shout-out to Tenafly, NJ, and all of the old friends who I got into contact with.

I'm going to start doing a little thing where I introduce a few local Phoenix artists every couple weeks, and today's artist, is my friend Patrick Wagner. He's got a profile that's on deviant art, and although there isn't a lot now, he's been working on some new pieces to put on there. So here's a link to his art, and I hope you guys get a chance to check it out:

www.patrick-rocks.deviantart.com

His art reminds me a lot of the art of Jhonen Vasquez, and this kid has a lot of talent. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did.

Thanks for reading guys. We passed over 800 page views this month! And 1900 all time! Thank you so much!

Yes, Marky-Mark CAN act!

I just had the privilege of seeing the film, The Fighter, and I think I owe it to myself to write a longer review than I usually do for it. Mark Wahlberg plays Micky Ward, a welterweight boxer who is being trained by his former-boxer brother Dicky, played Christian Bale. The film chronicles Ward's rise to fame as a world-class boxer. Supported by his girlfriend Charlene (Amy Adams), and his mother Alice (Melissa Leo), Micky becomes one of the most well known boxers in the world.


Mark Wahlberg, in my opinion, is a sorely underrated actor. Ever since I saw his wonderful and uplifting performance in I Heart Huckabees, I never looked back. His performances in films like The Departed (where he got his Oscar Nom), Three Kings, Invincible, The Basketball Diaries, and Boogie Nights, have proven to me that he has the talent to pull off a great performance. His portrayal of Micky Ward is another one to remember. Ward is quiet, but definitely has a voice. Being the smartest man in his family, he knows what's right and what's wrong. Ward wants nothing more than to be the best, but feels an obligation to take care of his family as well.


Christian Bale, playing Micky's crack addicted brother Dicky, is who steals the show here. How this man has not yet won an Oscar is beyond me, but it's a vicious circle, the awards business. Anyway, Dicky is Micky's driving force, but also the only reason Micky hasn't made it big. It's only when he gets arrested that Micky truly makes it big with the help of his girlfriend Charlene, perfectly played by Amy Adams. She represents all strong-willed and meaningful women who stood by their men when they needed them most. Adams' character is unforgettable.


Finally, Melissa Leo plays Micky's greedy and selfish mother Alice Ward. Leo has never ceased to amaze me with her skill, and her performance here is no exception. She truly makes you hate her, and for once, being hated is a good thing. Overall, The Fighter is 2010's The Wrestler, but make no mistake, they are not the same movie. Darren Aronofsky was set to direct this as a follow up to The Wrestler but he passed on the project to make Black Swan. David O. Russell took over the job and did a great job, while Aronofosky served as one of the executive producers, alongside the Weinstein Brothers. The Fighter can piss on Rocky's ashes anyday. I say that with complete confidence. It deserves a true A+.


So, people have been asking me how "gay" Long Beach really is. Let me give you a little insight into how gay LBC really is. Every bar within 10 miles of us has a big rainbow flag outside of it, and the names are things like, The Brit, The Gold Mine, The Falcon, etc. You can't walk down a street without seeing at least one tandem bike with two men on it both wearing pink wife beaters, and shorts that barely reach the lower thigh. Every cafe and restaurant has a shelf full of Echo magazines, and cards for free AIDS testing. Here's my personal favorite, one of our neighbors has Wi-Fi, and their network name is BigGayPenis Net. I know this because I made the mistake of trying to hack into their network. Never trying that again. So yes, Long Beach is a very gay place. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing. The shopping is good, and all the food is phenomenal. It has to be.


I've been in my dad's office all day, sitting with his awesome Assistant Manager Hernando, who actually reads this blog, so hey Hernando. Hernando is my favorite 1/2 Vietnamese and 1/2 Mexican person in the world. He's almost as funny as my dad too. Look out Henry, you got competition. But there was something my dad said today, and this goes in with my "I Can't Believe My Dad Said..." series. He said, out of the blue, to Hernando and me, "Fu#k guys, we forgot to celebrate Kwanzaa on Sunday."

Before I go, here's a small piece of one of my many infamous conversations with my friend Nikki. Enjoy, thanks for reading!

I called Nikki.

Nikki: Hey um, can I call you back in 10 minutes?

Me: Yeah su-wait, what do you need 10 minutes for?

Nikki: I'm uh-

Me: ARE YOU HAVING SEX?!

Long Beach County

Finally, after a long day of driving and waiting, I'm here in Long Beach with my dad. I'm staying for about 6 days, through New Year's. I'm pretty excited to be spending a few days with my dad, just him and me. Thing about my dad is, as funny as he intentionally is, he's usually funnier unintentionally.

My father was considering letting me stay home tomorrow while he went to work so that I could sleep, relax, maybe go to the beach. I regretfully mustered up the courage to ask him if I could take a quick bus ride to the movies that are less than a mile away. The Long Beach buses are all clean and usually extremely empty. I knew I'd be able to handle myself, as I already know the bus lines in LBC from the previous rides I've taken on it. Of course, he shot me down, being the somewhat overprotective man that he is, not that I can blame him for it.

Not 5 minutes later, I hear escape from his mouth, "Hey, can you go get me some milk at the liquor store down the street?" Of course, any reason to go for a walk, I accept, and walk the total of maybe, 200 feet to get to the store. In that time, I see numerous drunk gay men walking down the street (Long Beach is a huge gay city), loud noises, screeching tires...the works. I step into the store, and I get the milk, next to the bourbon and Hennessy. As I approach the counter, the smell of weed enters my nostrils more and more. I pay the stoned clerk quickly and leave.

I walk back to the apartment, another 200 feet, if that, encountering the same things as I did when I left the apartment at first. I walk in the door, and I honestly feel as if I had just endured an adventure of Harrison Ford proportions. Being back in that apartment where the heater had been left on for five straight days, and where I'm currently sweating profusely in, was the only place I wanted to be during Long Beach Nightlife. Can't wait for New Year's!

It's come to my attention recently how much of, how do I put this, well, a complete jerk-off I am. I mean that with the most self-respect that I can possibly muster out of that statement. But, in memoriam of all the people that I've had the pleasure of pissing off this year, I'd just like to publicly post some of the completely awful things I've said in 2010.

"What was the name of that guy you used to date, the one with the 9/11 sounding name?"

"It's like, I spend my entire day avoiding human beings, but when I need to talk to someone, everyone disappears like I'm the kid at the birthday party who has lice."

"Of course I'm waiting for you, what do you think I've been doing here this whole time, trying to stick my fist in my ass?"

"I swear, my phone makes all voices sound like a hungry mexican child dipped in hot water."

"I can't believe this, people are missing a golden opportunity to make me look like a complete ass!"

Those are the only ones I can legally publish (kidding), but if you want the full list, just message me on Facebook, and maybe even contribute to the list and remind me of an offensive thing I said this year.

That's all I've got for you now. Thanks for reading :)

Christmas!

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you all had a great one! I'm writing this on my new laptop! I'm excited to finally have my own computer to put all my music and writing in. I named it Darby after the singer of the band The Germs. I even put my Germs sticker on it. I also got a new ipod and Kindle. I'm pretty much set for life.

So, in honor of the new rapidly approaching, I decided to release another Top of 2010 list. I picked my top 5 songs of the year. Now please, please, please note, that this is my opinion. Not yours. Thank you. Here it is.

5. "Tighten Up" By The Black Keys


4. "No Love" By Eminem Ft. Lil Wayne

3. "We No Speak Americano" By Yolanda Be Cool & DCUP

2. "Monster" By Kanye West Ft. Jay-Z, Rick Ross, Nicki Minaj, and Bon Iver

1. "Little Lion Man" By Mumford & Sons


So there it is. Agree, criticize, debate. I really don't care.

Another list I made were the most influential people of the year, in all aspects. These people may not have effected your life personally, but have definitely changed whatever field they work in.

Nicki Minaj-Not many, if any, female rappers have done what Ms. Minaj done in her three short years in the hip-hop world. Nicki also rhymed some of the best verses of the year, blowing away the veterans of hip-hop.

Mark Zuckerberg-2010 has been a great year for Facebook. A movie, Time magazine's "Person Of The Year", and over 550 million users. Zuckerberg, youngest, and smartest billionaire in the world, continues to stun the world with what he can really do.

X-Box 360 and its affiliates-Kinect, the revolutionary new gaming tool. It's what Wii wants to be, and everyone wants to own. It truly interacts the player, your body being the controller.

Amazon-Kindle, although released prior to 2010, has taken off more this year than any with the 3G. Also, many free book options, and fun games makes Kindle...awesome.

Banksy-Banksy is probably the best street artist on the planet, and 2010's Exit Through The Gift Shop showed Street Art's roots, and its inevitable demise. One of my favorite, if not my favorite film of 2010, ETTGS is a revolution, as is Banksy and his art.

Apple Inc.-The release of the iPad, forever changed the way we look at computers. Basically being a cooler looking tablet, or an enlarged iPod touch, the iPad is the next big thing. Literally.

So there's my other list of influential things in 2010.

Thanks for reading everyone, and I hope to get at least two more posts in before the end of the year. Also, thank you to the readers because we officially broke last month's page view count. Thank you guys!!!

Bittersweet Symphony

Last night, I had the privilege of seeing the film The King's Speech. The film follows King George VI, brilliantly played by Colin Firth, and his rise to power, while also chronicling his fight against his unbearable stammer. Enlisting the help of an unorthodox speech therapist, also excellently played by Geoffrey Rush, the two fight the battle of ridding of the King's stutter. The King's Speech is a film that will always stay very near and dear to my heart, only because I too have to deal with the burden of stuttering. I admit, that after the ending of this film, I cried for almost 1/2 an hour afterwards, not because I was sad, but because I had finally found something that truly understood how hard it is to have stutter.

While I agree that stuttering can be a horrible burden to have, it's also taught me a lot about tolerance and being a good person. Without stuttering, I don't think I'd be a writer, or be funny, or understand people as well as I do. It's true, I'm almost inable to speak in front of a group, but I don't think I'd trade all of the great things that stuttering has taught me throughout my life, just so I can talk in front of people.

I can't possibly give The King's Speech a letter grade, it'd be completely too biased. But what I can give it, is a thank you, for reaching out to a minority of people who's voices needed to be heard.

On another note, today was beautiful outside. Slightly rainy, cloudy, not too windy. Perfect read-in-the-park weather. So that's exactly what I did. I took my copy of All Quiet On The Western Front and went on a walk in the park, sat down, and read a chapter. It's times like these that I remember how blessed I am to have the liberty of being able to just go do stuff like this. But now, it's raining, hailing, windy, and thunderous outside. That all equates to awesome.

Today is also my good friend Alana Arcaro's birthday. Happy 15th birthday Alana! I can't believe I've known you for almost 2 years already! Crazy how much time flies by kiddo. Have a good one, I know you already did :)

Tomorrow, I get my cast, and then it's Christmas Eve/Christmas. I actually forgot that Saturday was Christmas, until my friend Rayna reminded me. I'm losing my Christmas spirit folks! I guess it kind of comes with age.

That's all I've got to say for now :) Thanks for reading.

A White-Hot Juggernaut At 200 Miles Per Hour!!

That, for those who aren't Tarantino fans, is the tag line to my favorite Quentin film, Death Proof. Just a little fun fact. I totally realized that I forgot to tell the Black Swan story!

Andrew, Simon, Daniela, my mom, Tom, and I went to go see Black Swan. The only theater playing it was Camelview 5 in Scottsdale and every rich Jew in Scottsdale seemed to be at this theater, because we waited in line for almost an hour just to get into the theater. My stepfather Tom isn't what you'd call the most patient man in the world, so in line to get the tickets, he must have said, "Forget it, we're not going," at least seven times. The man tires us out sometimes.

We finally get the tickets, and now we're waiting in this sardine can of a line, packed in there as tight as possible. Now don't forget, it's Andrew, Simon, Dani, and I in this line. We start telling these nasty jokes and stories, and all the people in the line are staring at us, completely disgusted by what we're saying. We kind of notice this, so what do we do? We get louder, and dirtier.

Fast forward thirty minutes, we're sitting in our seats, waiting for the previews to start, and all Andrew can talk about is "going to town" on himself, while Simon eggs him on, and Dani just sits silently, waiting to leave I presume. As for myself, I'm laughing at their jokes, but I'm also a little more conscious of the people around me that are looking at us.

The movie started, and it was freaking all of us out the entire time, especially Andrew. He was like, jumping in his seat and kept saying "Dude!" and all that stuff. The movie was extremely haunting and scary. Black Swan is the year's scariest, most beautiful, and haunting film. A+. But the story really starts on the ride home. The entire ride home, my mom and Tom got into a massive fight over forgettable things like bills, greediness, idiocy, etc. I'm not going to describe the entire fight, but when we got home, Tom stormed inside, and my mom and I drove around Anthem in circles for almost 1/2 an hour. We talked about everything that happened, and I tried to give her a new perspective. When we got home, I pretty much sat them both down, and talked to them about it. In the end, we all agreed on the fact that fighting isn't the best answer. That's my story for today.

Last night, I watched the Joaquin Phoenix mockumentary I'm Still Here. This film, being recieved with negative reviews, I thought it wouldn't be good. But I watched it, and realized the genius and irony behind the whole thing. It really was an excellent film. I give it an A-.

Also, I want to take a little time to give a shout out to all the devoted fans, and people who have inspired me to keep writing this blog. Without you guys, I don't know what I'd do.

Simon Gutkin-You inspired and co-founded the blog. You're the reason I'm here.

Willow-You've read every single post I've written. You represent the fan base I've had the chance to accumulate. Thank you.

Mom and Dad-For always reading and never editing/censoring what I say. Without you guys, I'd never have been a writer at all.

Piera and Quetzalli-For being the best advertisers ever, and actually reading.

Aya and Dani-My awesome "business associates" (they're really just interns). Just kidding you guys, you help me more than you'll ever know.

Also, thank you to everyone who's even taken the time out to read this damn thing. Every page-view counts, and I love you all for it.

Thanks for reading :)

The best of the best...and the worst of the worst

2010 has been a year that's flown by pretty quickly. There's been some good, some bad, and a lot of decisions to be made. I feel like every year, I evolve more and more as a person, learning more about the world around me. 2010 holds a lot of memories for me, and I admit that I will miss it a lot. But with less than two weeks left in the year, it's time for me to release my 2010 Best and worst lists. This year is very special because it's the end of a decade, so I can also release my best of the decade lists. This is going to be a pretty long post. I can tell.



Let me start out with my 20 best films of the year. 2010 had so many good films I couldn't narrow it down to 10. I'm going to list them all in alphabetical order, so that I don't have to actually pick one favorite.



127 Hours
The American
Black Swan
Cyrus
Easy A
Exit Through The Gift Shop
Get Him To The Greek
Greenberg
How Do You Know
Inception
Jackass 3
Kick-Ass
The Kids Are All Right
A Lonely Place For Dying
Machete
Piranha
Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World
Shutter Island
Tangled
The Town

There you go. You can like it, hate it, whatever. I wish I could've done 25, but no. That's too much. Ok, now, on to the best films of the decade. I picked 10 films from each year to represent that year in film, and here's what I picked.

2009:
(500) Days Of Summer
Adventureland
Antichrist
Inglourious Basterds
A Prophet
A Serious Man
A Single Man
Up
Up In The Air
World's Greatest Dad

2008:
Burn After Reading
The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button
The Dark Night
Doubt
Forgetting Sarah Marshall
Frost/Nixon
In Bruges
Role Models
Wall-E
The Wrestler

2007:
Before The Devil Knows You're Dead
Bug
Control
Death Proof
Hot Fuzz
Juno
Knocked Up
Ratatouille
There Will Be Blood
Zodiac

2006:
Borat
Children Of Men
Clerks II
The Departed
The Devil Wears Prada
This Film Is Not Yet Rated
Hard Candy
Jackass 2
The Last Kiss
Little Miss Sunshine

2005:
The 40-Year Old Virgin
Batman Begins
Broken Flowers
Crash
Green Street Hooligans
Hustle & Flow
Mysterious Skin
The Squid and The Whale
Walk The Line
Wedding Crashers

2004:
Before Sunset
Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind
Garden State
I Heart Huckabees
Man On Fire
Mean Girls
Million Dollar Baby
Napoleon Dynamite
The Notebook
Shaun Of The Dead

2003:
Bad Santa
Elephant
Finding Nemo
Holes
Kill Bill Vol. 1
Lost In Translation
Mystic River
Shattered Glass
Something's Gotta Give
The Triplets Of Belleville

2002:
8 Mile
Chicago
Gangs Of New York
I Am Sam
Jackass
John Q.
Minority Report
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Punch Drunk Love
The Ring

2001:
Amelie
Donnie Darko
Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back
Monsters Inc.
Mulholland Dr.
The Royal Tenenbaums
Session 9
Snatch
Training Day
Zoolander

2000:
Almost Famous
American Psycho
Gladiator
High Fidelity
Me, Myself, and Irene
Meet The Parents
Road Trip
Scary Movie
Traffic
X-Men

So there it is, my top movie lists of the decade. I couldn't have made this list without a little help from www.flickchart.com! Thank you flickchart, for making my life easier. Now, I have to go recover my eyes after staring at a screen for two hours. Thanks for reading!

Do you feel blame?

"Do you feel blame? Are you mad? Uh, do you feel like wolf kabob Roth vantage? Gefrannis booj pooch boo jujube; bear-ramage. Jigiji geeji geeja geeble Google. Begep flagaggle vaggle veditch-waggle bagga?"-Charles Manson (Craziest man alive)

I wrote a couple of stories this week for school, and I kind of want to share them with you guys. One's about a man who loses his wife and child in an accident and how he copes with it. The other is a "diary" of a soldier in World War I. Both are about 5 and a 1/2 pages on Word 2007, so hopefully they won't be as long here. Yikes. If anything, I can just post one now, and one next week.

Entry 1-August 16, 1915

I enlisted in the war, thinking that everything would be fun and great, like I wouldn’t have worries. I wouldn’t feel pain, and I’d kill some of the Devil’s spawn at the same time. Little did I know, three weeks later, that people were dying, my friends more specifically. My name’s Jean Lacroix, and I’m a French soldier in World War I. I got involved in the war after a few friends of mine convinced me to enlist with them, telling me that we would have a great time. I foolishly believed them, and now I’m stuck, scared to breathe without being shot down by German troops. I want nothing more right now than to leave and go back home where I know that I am safe, and free from all burdens. Nothing is scary or frightening compared to this experience.

On the train ride over to the barracks, I met a man named Zackary. His path was similar to mine, enlisting in the war for a grand adventure through foreign land. Little did he know the risk he was taking, nor the lives he would see crudely taken right before his eyes. Zackary is my only friend as of late, and hope we can both make it out of the war together. He’s a good man who’s beliefs and morals remind me of my own. He’s a man that I can trust, and that I will know will be there for me in times of trouble and grief. For him I am thankful.

Entry 2-August 21, 1915

Our barracks are particularly clean, with no dust or dirt on, under, or around them. For this, we can thank our drill sergeant for that, Sergeant Blanc. Every morning at 5 exactly, we are abruptly woken up and told to get dressed and make our beds within a 7 minute time slot. From there we do 20 push-ups, 50 push-ups, and 3 laps around the camp. We do training exercises all morning, and have lunch at noon. From one to three, we do more exercises, and from three to seven, we must do work and have an opportunity to send letters home to wives, girlfriends, family, and children. I feel blessed to have an understanding Sergeant like Blanc, but sometimes wish I didn’t have to wake up so early to clean and exercise.

Tomorrow, they send a new group into battle, with me being a part of it. I’m very scared, and not able to sleep. I’ve heard many stories from returning soldiers, and it seems like nothing I’ve ever had to encounter in my life. If I’m lucky, this will not be my last entry. I ask those who read this whilst I am gone to pray for me, for I will need it now more than ever.

Entry 3-August 24, 1915

I have just returned from the Battle Of the Frontiers, and I’m lucky to have come back with my life, let alone in one piece. The horrors I have just witnessed, I do not wish to record, but I know I must. Civilians have a right to know what is going on.

From the moment I got there, all of the new soldiers were carelessly thrown into the trenches, and told to go at the blow of the whistle. One of the men was so scared he actually urinated in his pants and refused to go. Two extremely long minutes later, the whistle was blown, and the soiled soldier refused to go, while the rest of us ran. I looked back and saw the man pushed against the trench wall and shot in the head, his brain matter spraying all over the dirt.

As soon as I made it over the wall of the first hill, I witnessed mass carnage. Not knowing who was who at this point, and ran in full speed, surrounded by what I hoped were my allies. Every enemy I could see, I tried to shoot at. I looked around, seeing the constant flow of blood. It made me somewhat sick to my stomach. There was a particular shot that rang in my ears more than the others, and I quickly turned around to see what it was. The man next to me, my friend Zackary, was shot right in the heart, with his throat slit. He lay on the floor gasping for air. I didn’t quite know what to do, but I saw his killer running in the opposite direction. I took aim, and fired an entire magazine of bullets on this man. The bullets hit and he fell to the ground, a small spray of blood coming out of his back.

I snapped back to reality, reloaded, and went into the middle of the battlefield. I began to shoot aimlessly, realizing I was hitting nothing but air. I finally decided to take aim at something and fired. Men dropped at the sound of my bullets, not getting back up. In shock, I clumsily dropped my gun. Realizing the mistake I made, I quickly picked it up and took cover. I noticed a sniper on the north side of the field, but knew he was too far for my bullets to reach.

The horses that were ridden in by French soldiers were used as a decoy to distract my allies. After a few minutes of carelessness, the horses were pushed down by their riders and gutted as a form of shielding from the barrage of bullets surrounding them. Their screams were like nothing I’ve ever heard, and haunted me more than any man’s screams could.

Before I knew it, night had fallen, and it was time for me to go back into the trenches to try and get some sleep. I was sent to the back of the lines and told to get some rest. This seemed impossible due to the non-stop barrage of bullets invading my hearing. The constant screams of dying men didn’t help either.

The next day, less than five minutes of being on the frontlines, I was pinned by a bullet in the ankle. I crawled back to the trenches, where I was picked up by stretcher boys and taken back to the barracks. The bullet barely pinned by skin, being mostly stopped by my boots. I should be back on my feet in no more than a week or two.

Entry 4-September 3, 1915

Today during battle, one of our allies, not a friend of ours, but nonetheless a soldier, was shot in the stomach today. It was obvious that he was not going to live, and wanted us to put him out of his misery. At first, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, knowing that there may be a small chance that he would make it. As time went on, the hours passed and his condition worsened. By late afternoon, he was no longer talking, barely breathing, and I knew what I had to do. I took out my rifle, and shot him in the head. It slammed to the floor, his eyes wide open, and a small grin on his face.

In retrospect, I know what I did was right, but I can’t bring myself to think of reasons why. If the man had made it, he’d be a psychological mess. A vegetable, or recipient of extreme shellshock, not to mention the physical condition that he’d be in. Probably drinking everything through a straw, no stomach lining left to work with. Who knows, better to let it go than to wonder. What’s done is done.

Entry 5-September 30, 1915

Today in battle, my life was almost taken in an instant. If I had been a mere foot to the left, I wouldn’t be here right now, writing about it. Unbeknownst to me, a French soldier threw a bomb next to my feet, and by mere chance, I stepped barely out of its range before it exploded in the dirt. If I hadn’t decided to move, I know for a fact that I’d be dead.

This event has forever made me believe in the true power of fate. I know that God planned my survival today, giving me another chance to save myself from foolish decisions such as this one. For that, I thank the Lord for forgiveness. Never again will I make a foolish choice like this. I know now my place in this war, and what I must do to survive. The next time I turn my back to the enemy, I know that there will be consequence.

Entry 6-October 15, 1915

I’ve just returned from more than two weeks straight in the trenches. This time spent in the trenches, very few experiences compare. Since the rations aren’t near enough for us, we’ve been trying to store as much food as we possibly could without dying of malnutrition. Water is somewhat plentiful, not always being totally clean though.

One of the men in the trenches with us died of food poisoning. He ate bad meat infected with dirt, and it, in simple terms, ate away at his stomach. The body was put on a large pile of other bodies that we used as shields from the French troops. We just hope that they don’t cough the infections onto us.

We spend most of our hours playing cards, talking about our homes, making plans for when we do get home, and things of that nature. Every so often, some French troops try and sneak up on us, rarely with any real damage done. Only once did one of the troops actually get into the trench, killing one of the men in front of me. I caught him as I was falling, using his body as a shield as I shot down my enemy in front of me. As I dropped my dead comrade to the floor, my heart rate more accelerated than ever, I sat down, reflecting on what had just happened.

The smell in the trenches is that of dead bodies and cow manure, with nothing but the cigarette smoke to possibly drown it out. I taste nothing in the air but death. For those who have no idea what death may taste like, it’s nothing pleasant or desirable. The taste of decaying body matter fills the air. I must live with the fact that the dead man in front of me may be a man I had once talked to, had once gotten to know, only to find him here now, staring at me blankly. He’s asking for help, but he doesn’t know how. He’s trying to speak but he can’t move his lips.

I had an interesting conversation with a man named Friedrich Müller. He was a writer from Germany who decided to enlist in the war to learn more about the outside world around him. He said that after this experience, he’d be content staying in his living room for the rest of his life. I laughed, agreeing with him, to hungry to think of something clever to say in return.

The day after next I was brought back to the barracks where I was allowed to sleep a full 24 hours, which still seemed like a small amount.

Entry 7-October 31, 1915

I’ve returned to the barracks, arriving in time for our Halloween “celebration”, but have many other things on my mind. No less than 7 hours ago, 7 hours before my trench time was up, a French troop had the opportunity to drop into the trench. I had nothing on me but a small knife. He ran out of bullets, and came running after me with fury. I grabbed him by the arm, snapped it like a twig, and stabbed the man in the heart. He fell to the floor as quickly as he had run after me, and began gurgling his last few breaths.

I began to feel pity for the man, as he would not stop persisting, trying to live. Finally, I gave in, walking over to him to give him some water. He looked fearful, as if my intention was to harm him in some way. I had no logical way to comfort him, except for feeding him the water available to me. I tried to ask his name, but nothing came out of his mouth but blood and mumbles. I reached into his pocket, digging for his wallet, and finally found it. I read the man’s information, and saw his wife. She was very beautiful, and as I looked back at him to tell him that, he was dead; eyes staring aimlessly into the sky, his chest unmoved.

When I came to this realization, I sat down next to him, afraid to touch or move his body. I spent the next four hours of my rotation creating a fake back story for the man. Who he may have been, where he may have worked. What he may have done. The friends he may have had. The family. The children he and his wife may have been expecting. I was so caught up in this dream lifestyle, that I almost missed my name being called when my shift in the rotation was over. I quickly stood up, and climbed out of the trenches as fast as I could, happy to be back in a bed soon.

Entry 8-November 24, 1915

I have been relieved of my duties as a German soldier in the war, but at a costly price to pay. During battle, I had my back turned. I was pinned by a bullet that lodged itself into my spine, paralyzing me from the waist down. I’m going home with a medal and a wheelchair, never to walk again. If only I had stayed where I was supposed, done what I had vowed to do. Always be aware of my surroundings.

I am not the only one, veterans I mean. There are many of us walking the streets, some rolling in my case. Some are more apparent than others. We’re not all psychos you know? Mind you, many of us hold it in; refusing to admit that there’s more out there than we care to admit. More evil, more carnage, more destruction than we thought human hands could ever commit. There’s an animalistic instinct that is released when a man must choose between life or death. When the black hooded demon himself is staring you in the eyes, luring you even, all you want to do is run in the opposite direction. But as soldiers, we cannot run, all we can do is hope and pray that death will be distracted for a moment, to give us a chance to escape His clutches.

When a soldier comes home, nothing is ever the same. All the food tastes bland, colors are dulled, dreams are invaded by the darkness that is memory. No more do we smile at the children running and playing, we fear the life that they may have to live. The problems that they may have to face, even worse, the wars that they may have to fight.

All I can hope for, is that we, as a nation, have learned our lesson. Learned that nothing good can come from this, only bad, me being the proof. The real thing. The vision of war. The face of war. The blood, sweat, and tears of all those who have fallen before me. May their memory live on forever.

I hope that I can soon find work suitable enough for my condition. Nothing too strenuous or heavy. All of the strength and ambition I had when I left has now been stripped from me with my uniform and gun. I can now only live in the past, never the future, or the gift that we call the present. All I can do now, is ask God for forgiveness, and hope that one day I can wake up, my mind cleared of all burdens. But for that, I’d have to sell my soul to the Devil, because no such thing exists.

I refuse to partake in physical therapy for veterans, as it will do no use. If the bullet lodged in my spine were to be pulled out, my entire spine would collapse, rendering me lifeless.

Enclosed with this diary are 5 artifacts in memoriam of the fallen angels that served this war so well. They will never be forgotten, if not by society, then by me. For these are the men who, although they escaped the shells, were destroyed by the war.

So there it is, I hope you enjoy it guys. I really did love writing it a lot. Now, let me tell another story. My friend Aubreya got off the lightrail yesterday so we could hang out, and she had a band-aid on her head. This struck me as a little odd, so the first thing I did to her when I saw her was pull off the band-aid. I really wish I hadn't. Her face had like an extra face on it. Her forehead looked like Megamind. Sorry, Aubreya.

Now onto a couple movie reviews: Love & Other Drugs, How Do You Know, and Tangled.

Love & Other Drugs-Jake Gyllenhal and Anne Hathaway star in this extra raunchy, very funny, very sad, romantic dramedy. I really enjoyed it, contrary to most critics, but whatever. I think it's a good film. B+

Tangled-NPR said that Tangled was the best film of the year. I hate to say it, but they were right. Tangled is pretty much a perfect movie. Original, hilarious, sweet, and with some great action, Tangled is about as good as it gets at the movies. A

How Do You Know-James L. Brooks' new romantic comedy is very good, with Paul Rudd stealing the show (as always). But he's got some competition in Jack Nicholson who is also very good. How Do You Know is the perfect holiday romantic comedy. B

Also, last night was my good friend Alana's party. I'm not going to publish everything that happened, because it's a long, long story, so just ask me.

That's all for now, thanks for reading :)

What A Weekend...

Before I start, just know that I'm typing with one hand. At my birthday party I fell and fractured a thumb/wrist bone. This just goes to show my 110% dedication to this blog. With that being said, I'll probably be typing like this for the next 3-4 weeks, worst case scenario. Wish me luck.

As you can probably gather from my one hand-ed typing skills, my birthday party was yesterday. After a night of more stress than necessary for a party, we got to Encanto Park to set up our crap. Mine and Simon's band, Street Clothed, played for a little bit, but due to practice, or a lack thereof, we sucked. I was extremely frustrated by our inability to have that "click" that bands need, so after a couple songs we just stopped. By that time, about 20 people had shown up, so I decided to mingle and try to start an actual party. The first hour or so of the party showed little life, and I was getting sort of scared that no one was having any remote fun. But being the teenagers that we were, we found ways (i.e. watching geese have sex, making Mason vomit after chugging 2 liters of fruit punch, etc.)

We started a game of football that I was definitely not excited for, and ended after 3 touchdowns by each time. Thank god.

At around 4:00 PM, two of my best friends Willow and Quetzalli (nicknamed Q-Tip) showed up after a weekend of camping in the middle of nowhere. I was happy to see them, even if they only caught the tail end of the party. We ate a couple cupcakes, and I took a little bit of frosting off the top of Willow's. She then proceeded to shove the cupcake right in my face. I got up with another cupcake and went running after her. When we got onto the concrete though, I slipped and fell right on my left wrist, and the right side of my head. It was pretty funny until the pain started to kick in. I sat down, put it in scathing cold water, and let it sit. The pain did progressively get worse so my mom finally caved and took me to the hospital. We waited for a little bit, and finally admitted me in.

One of the nurses took my vitals and gave me some ice. I was talking to my mom at this point and said, "Mom, it's broken. It's more broken than the average American marriage." Another nurse came and pronounced my name Ho-Sway. I kind of knew how this night was going to go. They wheel-chaired me over for X-Rays (I still ask myself why), and I got my stuff done. The last one was particularly painful because they had to spread my hand open right where the bone was fractured. I was wheeled back, and we waited for another 1/2 an hour or so. They confirmed the fracture, and gave me some Motrin. When the nurse asked her if I was Josef, I said no. She looked a little concerned for a second, and then I said I was joking and she started laughing. I'm a sick man.

The two main nurses who had been helping us the most put on my splint and sling, giving me instructions on how to handle it. My mom decided to be the paparazzi for the night and was taking pictures like crazy. Even the nurses were into it and threw up peace signs for the camera. It was honestly like an episode of Scrubs. We left about 3 hours later tired and in pain. I realize now that everything is harder to do with a broken bone. Everything.

All in all, it was a good birthday and I thank everyone who was there. It means a lot to me.

On another note, I finally saw the film 127 Hours. Starring James Franco, the film follows Aron Ralston and the 5 days that preceded him cutting off his own arm after it was trapped in between a boulder. I was scared to see this movie, not because of the graphic amputation scene, but because I thought it might not be as great as people thought it would be. All I can say is, James Franco does an excellent job portraying Aron and I thought that the film overall is extremely well done and inspiring. Everyone, man, woman, and child needs to see this film.

That's all I've got for now. I'll have pics of the party and the splint up soon on facebook.

Actors=Stress

Today was the first day of principal photography for my student film, BAC. The film follows 3 girls as they skip school and go off to drink. It's for an anti-alcohol project in Life Skills, and I'm pretty excited to show it to my class. We're working on a script I wrote in 30 minutes, and a budget of no more than about $7. I'm ready!

The hardest part of the whole thing isn't writing, or even filming it. It's working with the actors! I love all the people involved, but Jesus H. Christ, they can't focus for one second! Except for Tyra, who actually does what she has to do. And for that, I thank her. It honestly took us like 30 minutes to film 1/2 of a page. But I know that tomorrow's shoot will be much. Smoother! Right? I sincerely hope so.

Also, on another non-related note, my birthday party is Sunday (Whoo!). It's gonna be crazy. Like, it's going to be a fiasco. Me and Simon's band are playing there as well. We've gone through one last and final name change, to Street Clothed. That is the LAST time we change our name. I promise. It's going to be the best show ever though, we promise. If you need the information for the party and you haven't already gotten it, let me know. Gracias.

I don't really have much else to write about, except the fact that popsicles are delicious. Kidding, I actually have the rest of the month already planned out, but right now, I'm kind of in that "in between" part of the week where absolutely nothing is happening. So let me give you a little sneak peak into the month of December.

1. An interview with actress Dania Ramirez

2. A mini "photo gallery" and writing on photographer Diana Diaz

3. Winter Break stories

4. Birthday party story

5. Interview with Joe Durand: Harvard Freshman

6. And anything else I can think of :)

I'll think of some fun stuff, don't worry.

So here's a little more advertising for you to absorb.

Blog fan page on facebook, press the little "Like" button, and you're free to go:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Joeys-Blog-Page/113630322038018

Twitter page (follow me on Twitter):
http://twitter.com/joey123mo

Peace

Christmas Spirits Past, Present, and Future Need To Die

Christmas time is a time of the year when all the families get together, exchange gift, gain a couple pounds, and have a "jolly good time." But, it's also a time for big name stores to give half-assed deals and make us believe that we're saving bundles of money when in actuality, we're really not. Between all the terribly good and the terribly bad, there's also the terribly ugly. Putting up the tree.

There are many things I love and hate about Christmas, but the one I hate the most would have to be putting up the tree. I just feel like it's such a tedious job, with little reward. But that's just me. Putting up the tree is one of the rare and few times, when I wished I was a Jew. That and going to Simon's temple, living the dream. Anyway, putting up the tree at my house consisted of a yelling 5-year old, terrible music (Christmas music is a close 2nd behind hates of the holidays), and me on about 5 hours of sleep. Add those together, and you've got a good story.

I admit that the tree does look pretty and all, but between the constant screaming and Dean Martin singing Baby It's Cold Outside, it was very evident that the Christmas spirit was in the air. 'Tis the season you bastards!

I've got a dog that I love, a black Chiuahuaha named Nacho. Yesterday, Nacho was running down the stairs while I was walking down them. He tripped over my foot, stumbled all the way down the stairs, and slammed into a vase. I felt so bad for him, and yet, I couldn't stop laughing either. He hid under the couch for about an hour, and finally I went down there and started to try to comfort him, because he was obviously shook up. Nacho is like my best friend, which sounds really corny, but there's a sense of total trust you have with a dog that you can't have with a person.

After the tree building/lighting ceremony took place at our house, I decided to take a shower and go longboarding around the neighborhood. I spent a lot of time talking on the phone to Nikki, and on my way back, after doing a bunch of sharp turns with no problem, I fall on my ankle while riding up on a curb. Yes I know, dumb move. So, I had to walk home with a bruised ankle (it hurt too much to have to ride on the board and push). Fun stuff. I'm just lucky I didn't get mugged by the homeless man walking slowly in front of me.

Overall, this weekend has to be one of the most boring, unfulfilling, and most unproductive weekends I've had the pleasure of partaking in.

Kemper and Elizabeth, Mickey and Mallory, The Two Are Synonymous

Nikki Wedemeyer, a good friend of mine, and a very talented horror director from Phoenix has been asking me for an interview lately, and I finally got to do that interview with her. Nikki is one of my best friends, and I know that she's definitely going places. Now, rarely do I post two blog posts so close to one another, but I feel like this is an important interview to post as soon as possible.

A little backstory on the film. It's called If Found: Do Not Return, and follows two killers, Kemper and Elizabeth, and their two friends/cameramen, Lindsay and Lucas. The film chronicles the rise and fall of these...well, fame whores. Helping Nikki create this film has been such a privilege for me, contrary to what she might tell you (wink, wink Nikki). If Found: Do Not Return will be the most gruesome, disturbing, hilarious, and heartfelt horror film of the year. I hope that everyone except my parents gets a chance to see it. If they saw the part that I was playing, they'd most likely disown me. With that being said, I present to you my interview with director Nikki Wedemeyer. Enjoy!

1. What inspired you to make this film?

Oh wow, I've definitely had a lot of inspiration for this film. When I first stumbled upon the idea, I was researching the Dnepropetrovsk maniacs. They were these three guys, living in the Ukraine who, to satisfy their sick cravings, took a video camera into the woods, picked up a hitchhiker and proceeded to kill him with a hammer. The footage was leaked onto the internet and is commonly known as Three Guys, One Hammer. After I began reading, and actually watched the video, I decided I wanted to make an Americanized version of it, and from there, If Found: Do Not Return, was created.

2. If Found: Do Not Return can be considered to be a "faux-snuff film." How do you think people will react?

With shock? I mean, how else does the audience react to a portrayal of real murders? I definitely have this vision of the audience being completely dumbfounded and not knowing whether they're supposed to laugh, cry, or be mortified by what they're seeing. I know there are a lot of really hilarious scenes in the film, but they're so closely intertwined with the disturbing ones that it makes the movie very darkly humourous. It's one of those things that the audience will laugh at, but then take a moment and think...wait...that was awful.

3. Compared to your other films, how do you think this will be received by viewers?
A lot of my other films have been pretty tame, as far as special effects go, so this will be a definite shock to some of my past viewers. However, anyone who has read my scripts, specifically, my only other feature length, Fatal, should not be in for any surprises. I think the biggest shock in this film is the body count. Most films have five, six, maybe ten max. Right now, I believe, I'm up to twenty. Like I said earlier, I think they audience will be shocked, for sure, but it'll be shocked in a good way.

4. The film went through a LOT of edits, adding in characters, sub-plots, etc. Do you look back now and think that these changes were for the better?
Oh yeah... When I first began writing the film, and I started planning my plot, it was just Elizabeth and Kemper going around murdering. No story. Just blood, guts and a bit of sex talk. After a few days of that, I added Lindsay, and a couple weeks later Lucas came into the picture. I definitely feel like since the film is based in such a dark, heavy subject, it needs a lot of those extra details. What I think is really interesting about the way the film is written, is the fact that it ultimately follows four journeys. We see each character change from what they want to be, into what they truly are, and I feel like that makes for a really powerful story, regardless of the blood and guts.

5. Are you ever weary of what you can and can't show in a film?
Well, the beauty of independent film is you can pretty much show whatever the hell you want and not have to worry about what will be said. The only thing I have to keep an eye out for is nudity. Like I've expressed many times, I'm not going to jail for my art.

6. What inspired you to create characters as, involved as Kemper and Elizabeth?
I felt like it was something I had inside, honestly, and it was something I really had to do for the film. If Kemper and Elizabeth weren't these intense, three dimensional characters that you can almost relate with, I think the movie would fall on its face and drown in its own shit.

7. Without giving away too much, how many endings did you ponder before actually deciding on one?
I have thought about so many ways to end my film before I was set on the final one. I really had to take into consideration whether or not I wanted a sequel, what kind of feeling I wanted to leave the audience with, etc. The very first ending I considered was going to be a huge cliff hanger. I wanted to have Elizabeth and Kemper get into a huge fight, which would eventually end in violence. Right as the fight reached its peak, the film was going to cut. I thought it would leave room for a sequel, and be a realistic ending for the type of film I was going for. After a bit of thought, I decided that I wanted something more than a fight scene, which lead me to the ending I have now. I suppose you'll just have to see the movie for yourself to know what that is. ;]

8. Do you hope to ever experiment with a film not in the horror genre?
I know that my expertise is definitely in horror. I mean, it's something I love writing and always will. As for writing something outside the horror genre, I'm actually considering writing an angst film in the near future. I definitely know that I love writing heart wrenching scenes, and would like to explore that genre a bit. However, that won't be for a few years, after I finish this series.

9. What do you have in mind for the film, and for future products after post-production?
Well after the film is complete, it's getting sent off to several film festivals all over the country for competition. As for later films in the series, I would love to do a prequel for the 2012 film festivals. I feel like one of the biggest questions the audience will be asking during the film is: How did all of this start? Yeah, we know how Kemper and Elizabeth met, but how did they start killing people? What about Lucas? When did he come into the picture? And lastly, where the hell did they get the camera?! I think a prequel would have a lot of say about each character's origins, what lead to them running away and especially how they got their start as murderers.

Books and Teddy Grahams

There are few things more memorable than rocking out to Styx's Come Sail Away with your mom going down the I-17 at full volume, most likely scaring the other drivers on the road. My mom has hated that song for as long as she could remember, and now, after finally allowing Styx to invade her ear canal, she likes it. No one can resist Styx. No one!

Today's been an unusual day, because I've encountered my first true case of writer's block for this blog. I usually have a lot to talk about, but today, it just seems like there's been nothing going on, and the whole thing's been feeling a little empty, so I decided to do the only thing left that I possibly could do. Look into the past. Not a lot of people have ever heard my full story, and I think it's somewhat of an interesting one. It also occurred to me, looking back on it, how many things in retrospect were actually hilarious, some, well not so much. It sometime amazes me how much I've evolved as a person, being raised in the the unconventional way that I did (but now not so much). My parents were separated from what seemed like birth, and I never really could remember them being together.

I moved a lot as a child, being born in Palisades Hospital, in New Jersey. I lived with my father and mother 1/2 the week each after a somewhat nasty court battle over the custody of me. My father lived in a large loft which I called "The Big Place", and my mother lived in an apartment in Blvd. East, in West New York. Blvd East is a very popular place in New Jersey, it overlooks the Hudson River and New York City, and everyone from the poorest of the poor to the richest of the rich had houses and apartments there. At around three years old, my mom met my step-father Tom, a man that would go on to raise me for the next 11 years of my life, and still lives with us today. I didn't always know what I thought of Tom, but the man taught me a lot about reality.

My dad was starting to cozy up to a woman named Maira. They would soon get married, and get divorced a little more than a year later. By this time, we all lived in a New Jersey suburb called Tenafly, and I went to Tenafly Public School, which was one of the best elementary schools in the state. With my mother, I had moved three times. Once to Manhattan, once to a small suburb called Bergenfield, and once more to another small suburb called Cresskill. I never had many friends in either of these places, nor at school. Picture the Jerry O'Connell character from Stand By Me, yeah, that was me. For those of you who haven't seen that classic, he was fat, awkward, and not what you'd call, a star. I got made fun of a lot for my weight and complete inability to run fast. Also, it was around this time that I began to develop the stutter that would forever hinder me from the rest of the world (probably around first grade).

In the second grade, I had a fantastic teacher named Mrs. McDonough. At this point, we were already dissecting squids, worms, octopus, and other things of that nature. I don't think I ever had a teacher since that really cared about my future as much as she did, not to say that my entire life I've been blessed with some of the best teachers in the world. Also some of the worst, but that's another day, another time.

It was also around this time that my father met Melissa, who would become the love of his life, the mother of two of his children, and one of the only women to ever stick by his side through thick and thin. I've got more respect for Melissa than I do most women I know. She's got love in her heart, rules with an iron fist, and still tries to keep the "boat" so to speak, floating. When he met her, my father was filthy rich, millionaire rich. Good went to bad, and bad went to worse, which is how we ended up in Arizona, or how I think we did.

Somewhere between 2nd and 3rd grade that I moved to the state of Arizona. It was either Florida, or Arizona for the family, and Arizona was the last minute choice. To this day, the details of why we moved are still fuzzy to me, but it's been almost 6 years. No use in trying to caring about it too much now. Anyway, we get to Arizona, and pull up to our house, revealing a big stretch of desert, and one house. Our house. What the hell did we do? Why has God punished me so much? I was only 8 for chrissake, did I really deserve this crap? As far as my mother's housing arrangement went, we lived in the hell-hole that most of you know as Anthem. But at 8 years old, my opinion mattered as much as the dog's did.

My 3rd grade year started at the learning institution known as Desert Mountain Public School. Much of the year wasn't really too exciting. I stayed out of trouble, did what I had to, and left as soon as I could. 4th and 5th grade landed me in what I look back on as the worst two years of my life. Rancho Solano Private School. My parents were paying $10,000+ a year, for me to miserable. For two years. Much of the student body was of Hindu or Sikh descent. I'm not trying to make a racist remark or anything, but 90% of the reason that I hated that school, was the next to constant bullying that I had to put up with. I had no one I could count on, or really trust. Not a person that I could call a true friend. Any friends that I did have, just abandoned me when the going got tough. One thing that truly bothered more than any, was that if I tried to sit with anyone at lunch, they'd move tables, not daring to be seen with me. It was because of this, that I developed a lot of trust issues and anxiety problems for the future.

After my parents were convinced that I had been through enough at Rancho, they transferred me to a charter school called ACAA or Arizona Conservatory for the Arts and Academics. It was here that I truly started to bring back the real musician in myself, having already played piano for almost 6 years, and guitar for 2. I encountered some of the most reliable friends, best teachers, and most stories in my two years there. I could never even begin to describe in detail all of the things that I did there, it would take me days. But all I know is that, ACAA and all the people in it, forever changed me.

It was from there, that my parents finally got me in to ASA. I cried, pleaded, begged, and asked very nicely to not transfer me there, but it was set in their mind to put me in ASA. And now, here I am. There's not much else that I can say about ASA that I haven't said before. ASA is a very important chapter in my life, and part of me is actually glad I transferred here.

Yes, if you're wondering, this is an extremely revised story of my life, there's just so much that I could say. So much I can describe. So many stories to tell, but that's for another time. I've written all I wanted to here. I know that one day, it'll all be on paper, but for now, you'll just have to find out for yourself.

Here, I've got the link for the fan page, which leads to my: facebook page, twitter, and more.

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Joeys-Blog-Fan-Page/113630322038018

I hope you enjoyed reading my child's book version of an autobiography, there's a lot more I've got to say. All in good time.

Please, get me away from Daniela and Aya

"Let's tie your wenis together." This is what four 14-year-old's can come up with when we're bored. The weenis is the superfluous skin that's located on the elbow, not on the genitals you perverse barbarians. Thank you Aya for the temporary fulfillment. Today is one of those days when I have no topic in particular, but just want to entertain you.

Simon's been wearing sweaters for the past few days that have been less than masculine. One day, he walked in to Men's Choir with a bright yellow and orange striped sweater. Immediately after walking in, I yell at him, "Hey look, it's Freddy Kreuger's gay cousin." Then, our friend Max Beckman says, "Tell Waldo I said hi." We're good friends, I know. About 7 and a 1/2 minutes later, i asked him socks for my TOMS. TOMS are like the cooler equivalent of Crocs. I didn't wear socks with them though the first day that I had them, and my feet were becoming good friends with blisters on the side of my foot. I was begging Simon for his socks, but he refused.

I live in a small town that many people know as Anthem. I know it as a living Hell. Anthem has a lot of holiday spirit, but there's something that's been bothering me lately with the Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa season. All of the houses on the block have red lights in them. I feel like I'm in Amsterdam everytime I walk down the street after 5:00 PM. A little, odd if you ask me, but hey, I'm not one to judge. Actually, I kind of am, that's why you're reading this in the first place.

Another funny little story, today in Science class, while we were learning about some kind of slope and other things that I wasn't necessarily paying attention to. Suddenly, I hear the chorus of the B.o.B song Airplanes in the background. Could we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars, I can really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now! Uh-oh. Immediately, I knew what was happening, my text-tone was going off in the middle of the classroom, and of course this was the one day that the principal decides to observe the class. The teacher, Ms. Davey asked who's phone it was. I slowly, and regretfully raised my hand, pulled out my phone, and turned it off. But I did see who sent the text. My dad. Thanks dad, best timing in the world my friend.

Thankfully, the day went by quickly after that. I got my phone, met up with Simon, Melissa, Aya, Daniela, and Lizz and we made our way to Simon's dad's office. We waited for a while, and we went to have band practice at our drummer Madison's house. We only got about 1/2 of what we wanted to done, but soon after, we went to first friday, the one thing that I've been waiting for all month!

We get there, start to walk around, and I see a few familiar faces (Aubreya, Willow, James, Hannah, etc.) and suddenly, I have an epiphany. I need to make a sign to advertise my blog. I made a big nice sign, and started walking down the street, advertising my blog to the first friday people. I actually met a lot of cool people from this school called Metro Arts, and they were all filmmakers and painters and dancers. We talked for a while, and I got some of their emails so we could hang out another time. We went and ate at Carly's too, Simon being too cheap to order us anything but water and some food for him. Just kidding, Simon is the reason that I eat lunch 2-3 times a week.

Overall, I'm so glad that this week is over, and can't wait for my birthday party on December 12th. I'm almost positive it's going to be awesome. Also, for any new readers that I met at first friday, if you've got a facebook, you can "Like" a fan page that I have on the blog, which leads to other stuff like my twitter, and facebook profile. For some reason that is angering me substantially at the moment, the link won't process. I'll post a link in the next post if you decide to continue reading, which I hope you do.

Thanks for reading.

Righteous Indignation

Sitting here, next to the funniest black girl I know, Aubreya Barnwell, I can barely concentrate on writing this post with her constantly cracking me up. Will you please tell her to shut up? Thanks.



If people are wondering what righteous indignation is, allow me to explain. Mr. Roberts, my amazing band teacher from ASA, was getting a little annoyed with one of the percussionists, Kate. He felt that she was giving him an attitude, so as she walked away from him, he yelled back at her, "Stop the righteous indignation Kate!" Me, being the trombonist in the back started cracking up, while Kate tried to figure out what that meant exactly. For those of you don't know, righteous indignation is a fancy way of saying having an attitude. Mr. Roberts, for this, I thank you.



My good friend Piera, got me the best birthday gift ever, and everyone hated it yesterday. She got me a Kanye West shirt, and I put it on immediately, and immediately, people started to bash on my shirt, and how much of a douchebag he is. Someone, Melissa Lain to be exact, called him the Lord Of Douchebaggery. Original, Melissa, original. I love the shirt, and thank you Piera.

With that all being said, I have some good news (for me at least). Thanks to you guys, the blog has hit over 1,000 page views!! Whoo!! Thank you guys so much for reading this much, I never thought that this blog would get 1,000 views in 2 months, let alone 4 or 5. Once again, thank you so much, and please keep reading into 2011! We're going to have a lot more cool stuff than we do right now, and I promise you won't be disappointed!

The reason that this blog post is so short, is that I have no computer at home, and I love to write, so I have to do it in a 45 minute time slot at the library. My computer got AIDS, and we had to bring it in to the Computer Hospital. So I apologize for not having more to say, once again thank you, and have a good December everyone!

Don't Call Me Shirley

This blog post is long overdue, and I've got a lot to write, so let me just get right into it.

On Friday night, I decided to watch my new film that I had bought, Natural Born Killers, not really knowing what to expect. I know that it's considered a cult classic and one of the best films of all time, but I really have never heard a lot about it in particular, just that it was a good movie. The first scene is really weird and crazy, and the film is definitely more than an acquired taste. I won't say too much about the film itself, because you've got to see it to believe it, but all I know is, Natural Born Killers deserves a spot as one of the best films of all time, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's a film as good as Fight Club, and this is my new favorite movie. I never thought I'd ever see a film that affected me, and agreed with me as much as Fight Club did, but now I've seen it, and its name is Natural Born Killers.

That night, after the movie was over, I got absolutely no sleep between Jia kicking me (we had to share a bed), and my brother Max started crying at about 5 AM, and decided to "talk" for three hours after that, allowing me absolutely no sleep. It's OK though, sleep is a crutch for the weak. My dad, not a believer in that philosophy, holed himself up in his room until almost noon. We left the house, going to the beach so I could practice my longboard in the parking lot for a while, and take some pictures of the shore. He got out the board, and said, "OK, giddy up and ride." Those are some words of wisdom if I ever heard them. I got on the board, and I rode.

For the first few runs around the lot, I was constantly on the verge of falling, but as I got my balance and found a comfortable stance, I was rolling around the lot Tony Hawk style. Well, not that good, but still, I was riding it, don't judge. My dad tried to do the same, but he wasn't so lucky. He got I'd say about 3 inches before he just about busted his ass. Jia, his biggest fan, screamed, "Good job daddy!" What a charmer. When I was done practicing, I took a couple pictures of the shore and the birds, and my dad took a few pictures of me skating, and on the sand. My weekend had officially been fulfilled, but little did I know that my day was just starting.

We all got into the car and drove to the first apartment that my dad lived in when he moved to California. He pointed to the exact unit, and said, "First night that me and John (his friend and ex-roommate) were moving in here, they shot a guy right there across the street and left him there." I was officially ready to leave. He took us to this Mexican restaurant next door where him and John used to eat every meal, and we ordered two burritos and chips for Jia. After taking a few bites, he confessed that the food was the same as 25 years ago, and just as good. I wasn't there 25 years ago, but that was a damn good burrito. He talked to the guy behind the counter about how he used to live here and eat there all the time. The guy said that he had been working there for 20 years!

Again, we piled into the car, and drove to my dad's friend Chris, and his job. Chris works at a TV station, per se, and records shows onto tapes, broadcasts them, edits them for errors, etc. Immediately when we got there, I was fascinated by all of the equipment, and one of Chris' work friends gave me a tour of the building and all of the things that they do. Being the nerd that I am, I took pictures of the equipment with my camera. I was definitely sad to leave that place. Chris said that if my dad dropped me with him for the day he could put me to work there doing some fun stuff; I'd never been so excited to work in my life.

From there, we went to the famous mall, the Beverly Center. My dad worked in at least 5 stores in that mall, and he was shocked at how upscale and classy it was, which was the original view for the mall back when it was first built. When we went up the escalator, I swear I saw Kourtney Kardashian coming down the escalator. Not even lying. We didn't stay at the mall for more than 20 minutes, my dad just wanted to see all the old stores that he worked in, and show me too. We left, and went to blockbuster for a few minutes. I bought: Get Him To The Greek, Remember Me, and Whip It. Not really important, but hey, I have to include everything.

We rode down Sunset Blvd, and went to my wife Kat Von D's tattoo shop, High Voltage Tattoo. I walked in, and was mesmerized by all the artwork on the walls, and the boards designed by Bam Margera and Kat Von D. We went next door to her art gallery, and looked at all of her artwork. It was very dark, Gothic, graphic, and beautiful. I bought her book The Tattoo Chronicles and had to basically be pulled out of the gallery by my father.

We drove to Mulholland Dr., where they filmed one of my favorite movies, coincidentally named, Mulholland Dr. Go figure. Anyway, we drive through there, and stumble upon one of my dad's old homes, where he lived with Chris in North Hollywood. It's really interesting to see where my dad used to live, it kind of gives me a peek into the past.

It was getting a little late, so we decided to head home, and that's where part of today's round of, I Can't Believe My Dad Said...

My father and I were talking about how we should go to Pink's Hot Dogs. "No way, hot dogs are disgusting, and I don't even eat meat." He replies, "Oh please Joey, when we went to Pink's hot dogs, you shoved that sh!t down your throat faster than a squirrely fag in a bath house." Where he comes up with these things, I don't know. The rest of that night was pretty quiet. I watched Get Him To The Greek, and attempted sleep unsuccessfully at about midnight.

The next day, Sunday, was the ride home. Taking a whopping 9 hours due to traffic, we didn't get home until about 9:30. I finally made it up to bed at 10:15, but didn't fall asleep until after 12:30 AM for some reason. I think I'm developing insomnia, which would suck. Monday was a relatively uneventful day at school, and when I got home I got my haircut. My dad called me soon after to talk about my upcoming birthday party, and being the funny guy that he is, said, "Hey, I'll just show up like I did at your conception, no problem." Goodbye Dad.

I got to work on my Language Arts poster with Jia, and it turned out pretty well. That's all I've got to say today, and I can't believe this post took me almost 40 minutes. I'm a devoted writer. That's all for now, thanks for reading guys, I hope you made it all the way through this droll.

On a darker note, Leslie Nielsen, one of the founding fathers of my childhood, and one of the funniest men to ever live, tragically died on Sunday, due to complications of pneumonia. He will be forever missed by many. R.I.P. Leslie, you were a master of your craft, and a legend.