As reported by Jonathan Feldman.

A man and his wife are sitting at Mel’s diner eating breakfast.  Their waiter approaches the table to check up on their meal.  The man speaks, with the accent of a complaining Jewish version of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

“Excuse me, these eggs are runny.  And this bread has caroway seeds, I can’t eat caroway seeds.”

“Ok sir, so do you want your eggs over medium?”

“Well these are runny, so they need to be done again.”

“Ok sir, and rye bread.”

1 minute passes.

“They didn’t even ask me what kind of bread I wanted.”

5 minutes pass.  The eggs and bread come back.

Picking up a slice of breads with his fingers, he asks, “Now what kind of bread is this?  The other one had caroway seeds, and I don’t like caroway seeds.”

“This is the rye sir.”

“Well is that the same as before?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t want it.”

Two minutes pass.

“She took my bacon.”

And scene.

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During film school, Feldman and I took a class called “Aesthetics of the Cinema,” taught by a great guy named Brody Fox. Each class was three hours long, enough time to let us watch an entire movie and then discuss it. Most of the time, it was really fun.

Sometimes, though, we’d have to watch super artsy movies that made no sense and had weird German soundtracks, or were about creepy families that did horrible things to each other. One time, we had to watch a film called Blue. Not the cool French one that’s part of that Krzysztof Kieslowski trilogy. Not the one about the horse. It’s the one that is nothing but a blue screen with voice over about the filmmaker’s thoughts about his experience with AIDS.

I’m sure there are film enthusiasts who will disagree, but Feldman and I have never experienced anything more tedious. Below is a sample of some of the notes we took while watching the film.

Look at Feldman’s studious notes. Look at how quickly they descend into jokes.

While enjoying the film’s tedious soundtrack, Feldman drew this:

Here is something I wrote on the top of Feldman’s notebook (apologies for the strong language, but well… just rent the movie):

Note the use of Spanish (”¡Qué Bastardo!”), indicating that at 2:44 in the afternoon the level of boredom had reached such heights that I was resorting to attempting to remember things from classes I hadn’t taken in three years. I particularly enjoy the way that I’ve bookended these notes with two very angry, straightforward phrases.

And now let’s have a look at what was written in MY notebook (which, by the way, I am currently using as a mousepad).

When the movie started, and it was just a blue screen with depressing voice over, it was kind of novel. After about 10 minutes, we began to suspect that it was never going to change. Feldman indicates that sentiment here:

To which I responded:

Naturally I was referring to the Disney version, because singing and dancing foxes were the only thing I knew of that could counteract what I was being subjected to.

And finally, a confused cry for help:

I guess Feldman and I just aren’t cut out to be art film fanatics. But I’m so grateful that I took that class. Otherwise, Feldman would never have drawn me this:

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Recently, my friend Feldman (that’s him above) visited Chicago. He sent me a photo album of all the pictures he took, but has yet to tell me anything about the trip. So I took it upon myself to piece together what happened on his vacation based only on the photos I have.

The trip over was a difficult one, and Feldman and his crew hit rough seas while sailing from California to Chicago:

When Feldman and his crew (above) arrived their first stop, naturally, was a bar.

Feldman’s crew soon deserted him, and he was on his own, stumbling around the streets of Chicago. While in his drunkeness, he was visited by the spirit of President Obama.

“Feldmaaaaaan,” said the spirit, “You’re in Chicagooooo. Have some pizzaaaaaaa…” And with that, he vanished.

After waking up in front of this building…… Feldman got a pizza.

And then some other food.

All of this put young Feldman in a food-induced stupor, causing him to hallucinate Aslan, The Great Lion:

Aslan told him to go to his hotel room- there would be a surprise for him there. Sure enough, when Feldman entered his room, a man appeared as if by magic…

…and offered Feldman this half-eaten hot dog.

Which Feldman gladly accepted.

THE END

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During a conversation online this morning, my good friend Feldman told me about one of this dreams last night:

“I did have an interesting dream. It involved your family. I was back at [Occidental College], living in Haines [residence hall] and you and your parents were visiting me. For some reason Haines was on upper campus near one of the fields and I was trying to guide you to the dorm and telling you where to park. And for an Oxy grad, you really sucked at following my directions.

But I eventually got you into the parking space that I had my eyes set on so you and your parents got out and we said hi, but you looked weird.

Because you were Ellen Degeneres.”

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I posed this question to a few friends: “What is Hell to you?” and encouraged them to include an explanation or anecdote, if they felt so inclined (in the case of Brian, that may have been a mistake). Here are their answers:

Gina: “A world with no ice cream trucks.”

David: “I think being in a Pinto, going cross-country with Vince, from ShamWow , no air conditioning, the windows rattle and won’t roll down, and the radio’s stuck on an AM Banjo station. The seat is stuck upright and won’t tilt back, and the seatbelt is too small and digs into my belly. And a cat had peed in the backseat and it smells.”

Jody: “My idea of hell is working at a certain place where I was referred to as ‘Girl PA,’ and was so terrible that I wish diarrhea at an inconvenient time on almost everyone there.”

Joe F: “A common interpretation of Purgatory has always been a veritable Waiting Room for Heaven…hanging out, hoping that the the people you have left behind pray for you enough that your number gets called, deli-counter style. I think Hell is sitting in that room holding a number that won’t ever be called, but you don’t know that. All you know is that some skinny bitch who just got here had her number called three days later and the speaker won’t stop playing REM’s Everybody Hurts.“

Brian: “Hell is an idea that exists in many cultures as a way to balance out the injustices of the world. Both as a means to control people and prevent wrong behavior. And secondly for peace of mind, to believe that all injustices will ultimately be righted. So I believe it is a cultural invention of humankind for disciplinary and comfort purposes. I think the Buddhist hell makes more sense than the Christian one, as rehabilitation or a term of penance, rather than the eternal useless vengeance of Satan’s bidness. The ancient Greek hades was interesting because it wasn’t necessarily a reward or a punishment, but instead a dreary but necessary next step. Says something about their culture.”
(Can someone give Brian a hug and make him watch some cartoons?)

Brandon: “A childproof lock, and I am a child.”

Feldman: “Being force fed opera and classical music on a dirty, earthy smelling, outdoors hike with my parents stopping every possible moment to admire the nature.” …30 Minutes later.. “How rude of me not to ask, what is your hell? Something involving massive amounts of vomit?”

Oh, Feldman. You know me so well.

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Here is a dream that Feldman had last night:

So apparently I was meeting up with Jennifer Coolidge at a bar for a date of some sort. She was drunk off her ass. I ordered a coke and something that looked like maybe chicken strips. She had some eggs and ham. Then she had to leave early since she was so drunk. Mind you we never once spoke a word to one another.
Then I come back hours later to find that she has left a check paying for the food. The check is for 50 bucks and the owner of the bar says that will definitely not be enough. He said if we had ordered a coke with vodka that even that alone would have been $90. So I’m kicking myself for not looking at the menu, and in the meantime I have to cancel my new order for some breakfast crepes. Then I remember this is the place I heard about on the news that had fries that were 4 bucks per fry. Per little fry.
And from there it became fuzzy, but I was very glad to wake up.
Oh. But I also saw that they had extremely large crispy tacos. HUGE. I showed my sister and she said, “Oh you mean the Daft Punk statues promoting their new concert?” I looked closer and for some reason it was their heads. Don’t know how I confused it with tacos.

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Soundtrack of the Day: Whatever It Takes by Larry Goldings (his first Warner Release!!)

I have learned a few things today. 1- magazines are very in tune with the needs of the public. 2- no matter how clever you think someone is, when ta-tas are involved, they can be reduced down to their most simplistic nature. Note the comments at the end of this Instant Message conversation that I exchanged today with my friend The Other Liz. (Note to The Other Liz and Feldman- I edited this conversation so that it wasn’t 90 hours long.)

The Other Liz: yo its the other liz
Me: YO YO YO YO
The Other Liz: what up
Me: Not much. You?
The Other Liz: same i watched the view with feldman then we r going tie shopping
Me: Good.
The Other Liz: so fyi playboy comes in braile
Me: NO. NO IT DOES NOT
The Other Liz: yep
Me: What? Do they like … label the parts? “Boob” “Butt” “G-String” Jesus. I guess these are the only people in the world who can say “It’s for the articles”
The Other Liz: i dunno cause its kinda a visual magazine
Me: Ummm yes…
The Other Liz: like if u are blind from birth like ” boob” doesnt mean as much
Me: True, but, if you went blind because you jacked off too much … then they’ve got something.
The Other Liz: feldman wants u to know he likes boobs


There you have it folks.

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To my #1 Fan!

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