It was bound to happen, as I have been living on borrowed time for too long (face it, we all have). In my case, it was a simple question of an expired auto inspection sticker as well as registration. This happens to me periodically (every year, actually). I’m beginning to believe that this life-style just isn’t working for me. This living hand-to-mouth. I put off getting my car legal because I never have the bonus cash laying about. And then I get busted, and I have to scramble to make some court clerk happy. This happened yesterday in Alamo Heights. Actually, this thing has happened before in Alamo Heights — three years running. Damn that punch card for a free pound of coffee from Central Market (AKA, the Gucci HEB). At the risk of making Miss Nikki Young tear up with my callousness directed toward her ‘hood, let me just say: fuck Alamo Heights! Having said that, I will admit that their police officers are polite. Also, their courthouse is easy to locate, and rarely do I need to generate crocodile compassion for probationers and assorted jittery scofflaws of the mullet class while I wait in line. In fact, there never does seem to be a line. So, a class act all around. Just don’t let the sun set on you here, son, if you know what I mean.
Speaking of the mullet class (my people, if the do-right boys of Alamo Heights have any say in matters), here is a photo diptych that says it all.
The first is what I look out at every morning while standing at my kitchen counter sipping fine Alamo Heights coffee. Carlos and Hope Cortez have a grand, beautiful house — here we see they’ve decorated it for Fiesta. In about ten days the King William Parade will raucously make its way down our street.
And this second images is what the Cortez family has to face every time they peek out the window or leave their house. They’re wonderful people, and they suffer in brave silence. One of the apartments in this triplex where I live just emptied, and the Barcalounger with the greasy headrest is perched on a low-cut tree stump. The landlady hasn’t mowed in a month or more. And all this picture needs is me and Carlos Pina sitting on my porch drinking 40 ounces of Bastardo Beer and drunkenly talking a bit too loudly about “shooting another movie here — yeah, fuck yeah.”
But Carlos has moved on from that sort of rough and tumble character. He’s now a gentleman rancher out in the Lulling oil fields, with a new sensible car, a conservative haircut (yes, a goddamn haircut!!), and spiffy new headshots from Deborah and Ramin. Here. I’ll have to poach an image from his MySpace page.
It’s a great shot. I hope he gets increasingly meatier roles. And, if I squint just right, I can still see the hardened punk rocker from the Rio Grande Valley.
Last year the King William Parade used my street to stage the floats, marching bands, and et al. This meant that we on the 700 block of E. Guenther were only able to see half of the parade. There were some pissed off citizens. They reacted by joining up with the parade commission (or whatever), and so this year the parade should be back to it’s traditional starting place and route. I can certainly applaud this grassroots activism. If it was only this easy to take the reigns where the war on terror is concerned. Or global warming.
For those who haven’t attended the King William Parade as well as the King William Fair, it’s the best thing about Fiesta. The parade begins around ten a.m. on Saturday. April 25th. But come early. It’s an ordeal to find parking. Come on by, you’re welcomed to sit on my little porch or in my front yard — just bring your portable chair if you want to sit proper. I’m at 716 E. Guenther. RSVP and I’ll have a cup of coffee waiting for you.
My last NetFlix movie was Save the Green Planet! Well, that’s the English translation of the title. It’s a Korean movie from 2003. The contemporary South Korean cinema is very weird — well, from what I’ve heard. And this is no exception.
I selected this one because of a trailer I saw on another NetFlix offering. It looked like a playful and kooky sci-fi film. Not so. It’s a kooky and gritty and intense psychological drama. It’s one of those movies you want to watch with other people, so you can discuss it afterwards. It’s a good film. Beautifully shot. Tightly written. But because of the preview, I had certain expectations. I think I would have enjoyed this more if I had been allowed to watch it without any information. And, really, isn’t this the way we should enter every film? Actually, this is the reason why I like attending film festivals. Just dive into a film without having been tainted by any of the PR.
And, to close, I’m looking for a good home for a late 20th century-era recliner. It’s perfect for lounging and watching the box-set of the Rockford File while eating a bucket of chicken. Or so I assume.
It has yet to be rained on. Act now!