Scratch From the Past
La Historia de Los Gatos de Wacky, Wacky*
Many nighttimes ago, in a field far, far away, shrouded by the evening redness of glory past, there tilled a humble farmer by the name of Hector Horatio Banano, or, as legend remembers, "El Padrino de Gatos." A more humble, more pious man the world has never known, and humbly he stood that particular night, overlooking rows of beans like lines in the face of God, stretching plainly and clearly across the horizon into soiled oblivion, each pebble his child, each sapling a drop of his blood laid bare to the face of the sky. He removed his hat and chewed at a dirty fingernail as night painted across the firmament like a silent abyss come to deliver his reckoning, when from the distance shot a bolt of godliness so shattering, so staggering, that it threatened to knock him into the dirt and burn through his eyeballs into the ashey core of his brain. He covered his face with the brim of his hat and spat unto the ground. "Dios mio, chingala," he whispered.
The blinding light subsided into the void and Hector Horatio Banano peered into the stillness of the black air, unbelieving, frightfully kneeling as he made out the lines of a great shadow in the distance. He called out into the dark -
"Con permiso? Esta mi tierra."
But there was no answer.
He inched towards the shadow, holding his breath with each step and praying that the face of evil not yet reveal itself unto his mortality, clenching his hoe sturdily, whispering, "Revelo, puta, revelo ahora," and looking into the night with eyes that might have well been painted onto his face for all the good they achieved, one step, two steps closer, Hector readied himself for murder. Like some sullen volcano without a cap the shadow pshhhhhed air obliviously into the night, and Hector approached soundlessly. When he stood no more than seven paces away, the shadow jumped into form faster than the light itself could cast and stood high on the paws of two hind legs taller than a man, and Hector knew immediately what reflected in the horror of his eyes -
"Gato," he gasped.
Frozen to his stance, Hector watched agape as the shadowed beast lunged forward some inches away from his face, leaning in with a head the size of a boar and fangs longer than snowshoes. The great beast looked into Hector's eyes with the depth of a prayer. Burning exhalations left its nose and fell upon Hector's chest, heaving, the heart about to burst in frantic layers about the plants at his feet. Then from the bowels of the great cavity of the beast came some holy emanation of harmony and peace and absurdity wrapped up into a million vibrating tonges.. PURRRRRRRRR it said, and it filled from edge to edge of the heavens and the beast laid down as it was done and rubbed its shoulder against the feeble man, knocking Hector from his feet, face down into the loam beneath.
"Loco!" Hector said as he picked himself up, greeted again by another vast expanse of shoulder, majesty unlike anything he had ever seen, "Gato Gigante..." And for what seemed to last quite a long time the great beast PURRRRRD and rubbed against Hector and brazenly demonstrated the strength of fifty men, lifting the farmer up onto his shoulders and stretching about the field like the rays of the morning sun, limitlessly.
Hector could feel indentations along either side of the beast, great gaping brandings still smoldering, and he felt along their ridges but could not discern their markings. The beast lied down with astonishing gentility, outstretching fifteen or more rows of the bean field without effort, and Hector jumped down to feel the soil again beneath his feet. He leaned into the beast with his hands and traced into his imagination the branded forms burnt into the immeasurable amounts of fur, letters he could not understand, words he would never know, passions he would never commiserate, not as he swaddled and trained the beast, not as he bred through generations a cat so powerful it could crush nations, not as his tribe multiplied with insurmountable feet and endless glory, no, he would never know the words of his gods and he would never dare ask... Hector Horatio Banano would forever find himself beholden to the words of unspoken divinity, the words...
"WACKY WACKY"
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* This is not an actual history. The name "Wacky Wacky De Los Gatos Locos" was taken from
this Onion article mocking an average TV schedule. We took this as a team name in Kickball because we are stupid funny, and because it's a glorious name.
Another Trip Around The Sun
This is one man's list of the best things seen, heard, or read by him in 2006:
Best Thing of 2006
Proposing to Deborah Joy Smith on October 20 in the Truman Capote Suite at the Painted Lady Inn in San Antonio, watching her cry as I knelt, hearing her say YES, Yes I will and repeating the process another time for posterity, just to make sure it happened. It happened and it shines on. I think we might even get married soon.
Best Movie Type Thing I Watched That Was Made in 2006:
When The Levees Broke
I just had a chance to see this. It's an epic account of an unforgivable American tragedy. Not only do I think it's the best film I've seen in a long while, I also think it's as important a historical document as anything produced in this millennium. If you see this film and do not feel the entire range of human emotions, foremost being outrage, then I really don't want to talk to you ever again. I'm serious. If this isn't enough visual proof for you to actively loathe the political administration of these fallen United States, then I'll leave you to rot with your dollar bills in your pocket when disaster befalls your house.
For me it tops the list of the Year of the Documentary, nestled along such powerhouse films as
An Inconvenient Truth, Who Killed The Electric Car?, and
Why We Fight. All of these films mark the true movement of the information era, and all of them might have come about twenty years too late.
There were many fictional movies that helped me escape for two hours from this mess of a world we're plundering through -
Borat, Beerfest!, Talladega Nights, Dave Chappelle's Block Party - as well as TV shows that broke through -
Weeds, The Wire, House, Family Guy, American Dad, Futurama - but nothing really moved me like the truth.
Best Five Albums I Heard in 2006
TV on the Radio, Return to Cookie Mountain
The sounds on this album are unlike anything I've ever heard. There is a lot of noise in between the notes, there are no guitar solos, and the melody isn't always catchy. But I've listened to this album a hundred times already, and every new time something else reveals itself.
Arctic Monkeys, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not
I really don't care what people have to say about this band or album, comparing them to the Strokes or berating the myspace hype machine. From what I understand, the lead singer Alex Turner wrote these songs when he was twenty years old, and they have immeasurable amounts of wit and balance to go along with their urgency. This is what you wish you could have done and didn't do when you thought about starting a band, so shut up already.
Decemberists, The Crane Wife
There's a couple grating songs on this album, but "Shankill Butchers," "Sons & Daughters," and "The Perfect Crime, No.2" are the closest anyone's come to writing hyper-literate amazing songs since Neutral Milk Hotel.
Harry Nilsson, The Point
I rediscovered this record amongst my vinyl collection, and remembered it right away as something I loved as a child. There's an accompanying movie that's also incredible, about a boy named Oblio who is born without a point in the Land of Point and who goes searching for this point with his dog, Arrow. It's the most valuable artistic endeavor of the acid era, in my opinion, outlining all the absurdities of accepted ordinary life in the most basic, beautiful way. This also led me to get Harry Nilsson's entire catalog, which I highly recommend.
James Brown, James Brown's Funky Christmas
If you listen to this album and don't cry, I also don't want to talk to you ever again. And not just because Papa's got a brand new bag in heaven. Because James talks right to you in this album, and because he asks the tough questions, and because he asks Santa to visit the ghetto for once, and because it's got moments so drippy with soul that your speakers ooze hot butter. Being able to listen to music like this is
really what America is all about.
Best Three Books I Read in 2006:The Road by Cormac McCarthy
This book, once read, cannot be unread. It's the darkest, most unflinching book I've ever read, and it burns right into your imagery. It's about a man and his boy walking through the charred remnants of America, in some distant (or not-so-distant) hellish future. The world is barren, covered in ashes and bodies. Cannibals roam the hills, the few discards of the human population fending over the scraps. Through this we have a simple story about survival, about what it means to be a man and a father and a son, and where all of this leads. Favorite line:
Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.Buddha, Vol. 1-8 by Osamu Tezuka
My children will read this, and hopefully their children after them. It's a wonderful eight volume graphic novel masterpiece that shows the story of Buddha from before his childhood to after his death, and it's rendered with humor, balance, integrity, and grace. The first three hundred pages are set before Siddhartha's birth, and this back story gives depth to the ridiculous sacrifices Siddhartha made, leaving behind a kingdom, a wife, a child, a people, all during wartime no less - and there's nothing flowery about his "awakening."
Spanking the Donkey by Matt Taibbi
This book was old news, but I had my head buried in the sand throughout the 2004 elections, so it was news to me. I discovered Taibbi through a devastating Rolling Stone piece where he dismantled the 109th Congress for the collection of callous shitheels that it is, and I've been reading everything he's written ever since. If you're into Hunter S. Thompson, pick up this book today.
So, onward into the future we go.
