Wait, I'm 24?

This post is going to be long. Just to warn you.

So if you weren't at my surprise birthday party last night, then you really missed out. Where do I begin? Let's start from the beginning. Back in early June my coworker Maria had to use my computer. Her laptop had broken and she needed to check her e-mail. I stood by her side as she went through her e-mails. Going down the long list of work e-mails we noticed an e-mail from Monica Scannell. "Isn't that your roommate," Maria wondered. "That's weird," I thought. So we opened the e-mail. The evite that said "SURPRISE PARTY FOR MICHAEL'S BIRTHDAY, could not have been in larger print. Shit... now what? I decided not to let on that I knew a party would be thrown. Later in the month I gained access to the e-vite and had been adding people to the list of invitees ever since. I had to make sure everyone I loved would be there.

As the days passed by, I began to find great pleasure in talking to people about my birthday. A handful of people said, "so, you're having a party on the 16th right?" Some people have not figured out the meaning of a surprise. So many people slipped, it was fantastic! I had so much fun with that. So here's the plan... Melissa is supposed to take me to dinner on the 16th. That's what I was supposed to know. So Melissa called me on the 16th. I hadn't talked to her in a week. "We still on for dinner," she asked. I told her that I thought she had stood me up and made other plans. A panicked Melissa started asking a lot of questions. Quite funny. I told her I was kidding and began to get nervous about the event. Large crowds make me anxious until I am actually in them, getting there is the hard part.

As I rode the bus home on the way from work, I realized that I didn't have anything to wear. I had to look fabulous at my party! So I made a pit stop at the San Francisco shopping center. I found a new shirt, tie, belt, jeans, and shoes. Really, I had only gone in for a shirt, but shopping happens. I bought a pink shirt and a brown tie with pink stripes. They couldn't have matched more perfectly. What I hadn't anticipated was the black light in the bar. I jumped in a cab and raced home, jumped in the shower, ironed my new shirt, ironed my hair, and was ready to go with time to spare. I shine up like a new penny, but don't catch me on my off days. WOW. Ask Chas, the dj at the party, what I look like on an off day. It's not pretty. With fifteen minutes to spare until my departure I reached for my packet of Catwalk publicity stills. I autographed all of them so that I could give them to my guests. I thought that was really funny. Just before I left, I check my Cher record collection to see if Monica had thought to have the dj play them. I was sad when I found that all of my records were right where they are supposed to be. I was just about to walk away when I decided to look in side just to be sure. My records had been replaced. Thanks Monica. Thanks Chas for putting your dj career ambitions aside and playing my records. Was it that bad? I didn't think so. It's all or nothing, like Cher says! Ok, now I was about to be late. I ran out of the house.

Melissa and I jumped in a cab and headed for the public where I was supposed have dinner. We had a drink while Melissa stalled me. That was a bit awkward. "Wait, Melong, why would we leave the restaurant to say hi to Monica and Chas at butter then run back to have dinner when our reservation is a half an hour away." Melong scrambled for excuses and we were off to Butter. I walked in to butter and was thrilled to see so many people that I love under one roof. I gave my hugs and kisses and was interrupted by Glen to take a shot of Tequila. Oh shit! Tequila always fucks me up! What the hell, it's my birthday. Oh, p.s., I had two shots of rum at the house to settle my nerves. Shot of tequila down, and ready to kiss some more smiling faces. Ooops, time for a shot of Yeager. Oh, thanks for that shot of belvedere. Ok, I want to make out with someone. Oh, one more shot of Yeager. At this point, Martin has realized that he needs to do away with my tie. What Martin didn't realize was that the black lights had changed the color of the tie. It was actually very cute. But he grabbed a pair of scissors and cut it in half. Oh well, I had only owned for three hours, what the hell!

With balloons tied to my head, multiple friends stuck to my lips, and a lot of alcohol running in my system I took it upon my self to leave the party and get in a taxi. Why? Who knows, but I was on my way to 1015. A drunken Reza jumped in the cab with me. We arrived at 1015, went in, nobody was there, and then proceeded to leave. Oh wait, got kicked out. Well, Reza got escorted out, I followed. We got into a cab and headed somewhere, not sure where. Then Reza threw up a little in the cab unbeknownst to me. The cab driver pulled over and made us get out of the cab. I couldn't figure out why, I must have thought we were at our alleged destination because I paid him. When I realized I was being kicked out, me a god damned movie star, being kicked out, I got angry. Me and the cab driver stood on the street yelling at each other. I screamed at him, telling him that he was stupid and ugly. I like to argue like an adult and have no tolerance for childish behavior. "Your fuckin' ugly!" I shouted at him. Meanwhile, Reza is throwing up on the street. As he is bent over being glamorous, a transexual homeless pulls Reza's wallet out of his pocket, removes the cash and tosses his wallet into the street. Reza grabs his wallet and tries to negotiate with the homeless to get his money back. All negotiations were ended when the homeless sprayed Reza in the eyes with mase. Blind, Reza approached me as I yelled at the cab driver. "I was robbed, I was robbed, Michael I was robbed," Reza moaned as a little spittle dropped from his chin. "I know," I said, looking at the cab driver, "this guy totally took my money!" I didn't realize that Reza had actually been robbed and assumed he was talking about our asshole cab driver. Cab driver screeched away. Blink, somehow we are in another taxi. Blink, I'm waking up in my bed. I have a tee shirt on, but no underwear. Hmm, that feels weird.

I was in bed by 11:30 and woke up with a skip in my step today at 8:30 a.m. So where are we going tonight?

Special thanks to all of the people who helped pull off this party. I couldn't have asked for anything more! I'm probably the luckiest person alive. Just thought you should know that I'm actually aware of that. I love you all!

Please post your personal stories, I'm dying to know what happened through the eyes of more sober people!

The magic of it all

Did I ever tell you about the time when David Copperfield made me disappear live on stage at Caesar’s Palace in Tahoe? I was just on the phone with my friend Donya, and I don’t know what made me think of it but somehow the topic came up. Donya is still bitter because I haven’t told her how the trick actually worked. If you are only reading on because you think that I am going to disclose that information then don’t bother. I haven’t told anyone, not even my mother. Well, I guess there are a few things I could tell my mother about certain other magic tricks that I like to perform but this is the wrong forum for that. When I was a kid, David Copperfield was my idol. He wore tight black pants, trendy velcro shoes, and shirts that revealed his chest. On top of that he would dance provocatively with gorgeous women and then make them disappear, or cut them in half. I too wanted to be a magician, but thought the likelihood of me actually finding work was slim. I found filmmaking instead. Filmmaking is magic, and most of the time people just watch and enjoy instead of constantly trying to figure out the trick. Furthermore, I often find myself dancing with gorgeous women on stages and wearing tight pants. So I suppose I got the best of both worlds!

9/11

Sound had once been said to be the downfall of cinema. A once mobile camera was now limited by cumbersome sound recording equipment. Technology has drastically improved over the years and sound has become imperative. I mention all of this because I recently watched Fahrenheit 9/11. Early on in the film there is a brilliant use of sound. The scene is of the planes crashing into the twin towers on the morning of September 11th. Michael more, chose do leave the screen black and just play the sound. The theater shook as each plane hit. You could hear people screaming and the event suddenly became more real than if I had seen it. Sometimes imagination is our best visual aide. This was such an interesting time for our country and the event really hits home to all of us. I found myself crying as the following shot was of a grey city in a rainfall of ash. People screaming for their loved one who were now gone.
This is a really liberal film. I know there are a bunch of people who won’t see the movie specifically because of this, but it’s well worth the watch. While most of the film is light hearted and comical, there are many parts that left me wiping the tears from my face. This movie inspires a range of emotion that I have not seen in a long time. Michael Moore really outdid himself with this film. This is one of the best movies I have seen this year. I highly recommend it, no mater where your political beliefs lie.

Party Like it's 1999

Two of my friends Jondi and Spesh just released their new album with great success. One journalist, however, didn't care for the album. Please visit this link to read his article.

http://www.sfweekly.com/issues/current/garrett.html

Then you can read the following e-mail which I sent to the journalist. See below.

Dear Mr. Kamps,

I recently noticed an article of yours in SF Weekly entitled "Party like it's 1999." I read the article and couldn't help but feel offended. The article evoked such a mean spirited feeling I felt it necessary respond. I hope my retort carries the same cynicism as your article as I try effortlessly to emulate your "style."

"Maybe it's the mix of beer and Red Bull in my system, but I am finding it hard to be cynical on a recent Wednesday evening at the Virgin Megastore on Market Street, where local DJ's/producers/label owners Jondi and Spesh are celebrating the release of their third full-length, The Answer." I had trouble getting past your first sentence. I'm not familiar with your column which I think suggests something about your fan base, but for some reason you feel the need to make the comment, "there's a generous helping of fans, maybe three dozen or so, and their exuberance makes up for the low turnout." I'm trying to figure out what your column is about. Are you a music critic? In your first line you mention that you are "finding it hard to be cynical," so it seems more like your column is about poking fun at people. Is this the case? In order for me to take you seriously then I am curious to know wherein your credentials lie. Are you a dj? Do you spin? I myself am a filmmaker. I'm sure you are aware that film critics are well studied, if not filmmakers themselves, they therefore have the intelligence to critique others work. By this notion I assume you are a dj, and have created music of your own. If not, I find it hard to swallow that you are so quick to make outlandish claims about Jondi and Spesh's new album. Therefore, if you are not a dj, or cannot make music of your own, then your article is based solely on opinion and not a critical analysis at all. I just want to be sure.

I assume, and only feel that I have the right to do so as you have done in your article, that you are a journalist. So you must be well studied in journalism and the ethical treatment of free speech. You've probably taken more classes than you ever wanted to on the subject. If that's the case, then I find it odd that you have such an easy time quoting people out of context. Isn't that a journalist rule? I'm not well studied in journalism, so I really can't say. I'm not familiar with the journalistic code, but I am sure that it is broken all the time. I wouldn't bother then by holding yourself to it. If you have not studied journalism, then again I'm curious to know where your credentials lie. Based on the two inferences that I have made I still can't comprehend what your column is about. If your not a critic, or an ethical journalist, then how is it that you are able to have your own column in SF Weekly? Is this just an opinion column, by an unknown, self appointed opinion maker? It must be. I'll continue then, knowing that is where your credentials lie.

Your next attack seems to be on your unflattering description of the fans. What did they do to deserve such treatment? I would love to see what your fans look like. Do they look like you? I'm not sure what you look like but if you have to hide behind written word maybe you're not so easy on the eyes. Do your fans wear stickers on their back that read, "We Love Garrett?" I doubt it. Would you reach for one of those? It appears that most of your reaching is done in the gross generalizations that you make about the crowd, the album, qool culture, and it's creators. Do you pat yourself on the back for that? Perhaps this hits home for me as I was wearing one of those stickers. But maybe I shouldn't take that personally, you must not have been referring to me since "no one at 'Qool' looks younger than 25." I'm only 23, so you couldn't have been talking about me, or a good helping of my peers for that matter.

We're you welcomed when you floated up the escalator?

Jondi explains the concept behind the new album and you state, "it was a bad idea." This is, obviously opinion, unless you have electronic musical experience of your own. I can respect any opinion you may have of the cd but what I cannot entertain is your arrogance in telling someone that their idea is "bad." What are your ideas? Are they good? They must be fantastic. What are they about? You intrigue me. What is it you create that gives you the right to make claims about ideas being good or bad? When you studied at the school of creativity did they educate you on what equates a good idea and what constitutes a bad one? Please let me know where you received your degree in creativity because I would love one. I have found from my education in film that creativity cannot be taught. It is something that comes from within. Something that can be measured, if you like, by success. You write an article about a two people who have seen great success in their creativity. If you don't mind, I'll trust their opinion on what is a good idea over yours, unless you can provide me with a list of your creative endeavors that have been received with more success.

You continue to perpetuate your judgment of the album by juxtaposing a quote from Jondi with your closing line. "God, I'd have to say that since I'm so musically ignorant -- I didn't have years of training -- it's always fascinating to me. I'll never be able to become cynical about music, because I just don't know enough. I'm constantly surprised by what happens with sounds and notes and melodies and harmonies. Maybe it's because I'm not sophisticated." You then write, "The Answer, indeed." This is perhaps the most offensive part of your opinion column. Perhaps you have an issue with the fact that Jondi will "never be able to become cynical." Maybe that is what hits home for you as your column is based entirely off cynicism.

Have you received many responses from this article? An article like this seems to inspire nothing but aggravated fans who send you hate mail in response to your bold claims. You are the meter maid of journalism. But I guess you have a job to do.

Sincerely,

Michael S. Harris

p.s. I will be posting my response to your article on my blog. Feel free to check it out, I welcome your comments and ideas, even if they are "bad."

www.foppishfilms.com/blog.htm