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Archive for December, 2011

Going Hard

Posted in Deep Thoughts, User Choice BLog, tagged , , , , , , , on December 10, 2011| 1 Comment »

This week makes a winner of Kooky Kyle in the UCB with his topic “Going Hard”.  Ok, I sort of fed him this topic, but that is one of the few benefits of living in Lisanti Land and being a member of the court.  Kooky is also living involuntarily stuck in the going hard philosophy that has with out a doubt ran my life since as long as I can remember.  Lisanti Land can be exhausting.  My old boss and good friend Steve chilled here for six weeks this summer and still refers to his time at the the Palace as “Lisanti Boot Camp”.

What the fuck am I talking about you ask?  There is this famous saying “I will sleep when I’m dead”.  I am whole heartily a believer of such.   I hate wasting time.  Life is short.  We never know when that last bell is going to toll.  I still cannot believe I have lived to be this old.  I and most who know me had me pegged to be dead by 25, that came and went and now at thirty I am still going strong and for the most part pushing the envelope harder then I ever have.

Originally for me “going hard” was a term I used to describe my party capabilities.  I would show up at your party or my own, down a fifth of rum and get absolutely wild. The jury was always out on whether or not that was a good thing or not. Poor Kooky has I think experienced more black outs in the last few months living with me then in his entire life.  That is because when we go out we go hard.  The drinks flow all night long, we rock the dance floor, dress fabulous and ultimately leave a somewhat lasting impression, even if it is “I can’t believe they are still letting those two idiots in here”.

Enough about my alcoholism and incessant party.   My life is rather cyclical.  I have been going around in a circle for so long now I lost my bearings and never really know if I have moved backward or forward.   For the most part it works like this and in a way this almost covers a single power of ten topic from Nick the Kook.  I start off wild and out of control and I thrive in that insanity for a while.  Overall it holds me back from accomplishing anything substantial.  I take a few steps in one direction then a few back, so on and so forth.  At times I even accomplish some rather amazing shit, but for whatever reason when push comes to shove and things begin to take off for me I go and blow it.

Then I meet a woman, fall in love with her, give her my all for a while thus the go hard philosophy.  Things go well for a while till the wild Chris starts getting restless and blows it.  Left to his own devices unchecked wild Chris ends up wreaking havoc on both himself and his surroundings.  Then I meet another woman and things just keep repeating.  So I would hope everyone should understand what part of the cycle I am in now.  Wild Chris is back, except he is not so wild anymore, but more just completely devoid of any semblance of reality.     The end goal is to go hard at ending this relentless cycle of pain and self destruction.

Enough about my insanity.  I am sorry for getting into that right now in the middle of explaining what going hard is all about. Listen up cause this is really the only thing I want you to take from this blog.  Whatever I have done in life I gave it my all.  I did not half ass anything.  When I wanted to make a go of things in Music everyone told me I was wasting my time and energy.  Big people in the business told me I was not good enough.  I did not listen.  I went home and practiced every day.  When every one of my top schools rejected me on the basis that I was “too commercial and a loose cannon” I found one that was happy to have me.

That is just one example.  At my current work place the first few months were hell.  Everyone came down super hard on me.  My boss kept telling me I was not going to make the cut.  I put my head down and I worked as hard as I could to learn everything I could from anyone willing to give me a chance.  When I was demoted I wanted to quit but stuck it out no matter how embarrassing.  Now I am back to being a full blown dinner cook and for the most part proving my worth every single day, minus the fact that my Mexican rice still needs help, but even that has gotten better.  WTF I am Italian after all.  Now I am in school to hopefully one day become a chef of some caliber.

Going hard is about being a fighter.  Life is going to kick the fucking shit out of you. That is just the reality of things.  Its not easy out there and if it is then you are doing something wrong.  We should always be challenged.  One of my biggest gripes of our society today is the fact that people get too comfortable in their ways and forget what it means to actually live.  Right now for me just living is a challenge.  Everyday I debate if I should get out of bed.  Despite my mood I get myself up, comb my hair, get myself presentable and “Keep on Keeping On” (want some motivation, read it).  That is all I can ask of myself for the moment.

People tell me I am blowing it, and that I never really cared for Adrienne all that much.  Fuck those people, they don’t how I feel or understand.  All the same I am blowing it.  Yeah my heart is broken, so fucking what.  My mother tried to tell me the other day that no one dies from a broken heart.  I think it is the subsequent pain that kills.  I just found out a friend of mine died over the weekend from drinking too much and his alcoholism came directly from heart ache over a woman.

That is not going to be me.  I will get through this.  I do believe things happen for a reason.  There is only a few weeks left of this putrid year.  2011 was by far the worst and hardest year of my life.  I definitely fell apart and let the cycle continue.  2012 is going to be different.  I am going to put my efforts back into my schooling, back into my work, my reading, my writing, my surfing and my character.  If I can attest anything to this miserable time in my life is that I will never go back to being the vile human trash I once was.  In 2012 I am going to go hard at pulling my life back together.

Alright this has gotten all over the place.  If you go out and give your all to whatever it is you are doing than whether you fail or succeed at least you know you did the best you possibly could.  If you do that then you will have no regrets and die complete.  I still do not have any regrets for anything I have done, even in a time where I have been nothing but introspective.  Be honest with yourself and others and do not let anyone ever tell you no.  Only you can tell yourself no and I hope you never do.  That my friends is what going hard is all about.

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The Bitter End

Posted in Deep Thoughts, tagged , , , , , , on December 9, 2011| 4 Comments »

As everyone knows I have been hurting a bit these days.  For a while I was puting all the pain into my novel, but as of late decided to take a step back from that project.  I was finding it hard to get pages finished.  A writer friend of mine told me I should leave it alone for a bit and then come back to it.  About three nights ago I was feeling rather depressed.  It happens to the best of us.  I don’t really know what happen next.  This Stanley Jordan song came up on my ipod’s shuffle and the words started to flow.  I have not written a short story in some time.  Maybe it is a pre-amble to something greater.  All I can say is putting it on paper really helped me to clear my head.  I don’t know if its any good, probably just a string of incoherent garbage.  You can be the judge.  I have not had too much writing on here as of late so I figured I would share something different as an apology for that.  Enjoy.

The Bitter End

 He heard the angry clacking of her heels on the sidewalk. The sound slowly got more faint as she walked off into the distance.  Why did she leave?  Why did he let her?  Why was he not the one to leave her?  Why had his heart just sunk into his chest leaving him feeling weak?  “You have so much potential, but I can’t sit here and watch you destroy yourself any longer.”

Those were the words that stuck with Joe. “I don’t love you anymore, I never really did”.  He did not say a word to that.  To any of it for that matter.  He just sat there and listened.  It was almost as if he was not there, but floating above the whole scene.  All the screaming, arguing and the crying.  He did not even feel the pain or blood slowly trickling down the knuckles of his steadily swelling hand.

No, all he could think about was the fact that he would never see her again, never smell her hair next to him when he woke up in the morning, never experience the warmth of her naked body pressed up against his after being satiated by the heat of the passion they once had for each other.  It was over, really over this time.  Not like all the others when she had walked out and came back a few hours or a day or two later.  He did not know for sure, but was almost certain.

There is this extra sensory that couples develop for one another after a sufficient amount of time passes.  They can just sense the thoughts and emotions of the other.  That is one of the remarkable mysteries of love.  He had pushed her limits too far this time.  Joe knew it.

She had loved him once he thought, even if she said otherwise.  Why is it when two lovers split up they always have to say the most hurtful things.  She had to love him once right?  Why else would she have stayed with him for all those years?  She was there when he was on top of the world and when it all came crashing down.  She nursed him back to health when he was bed ridden with an unknown illness.  She always put his needs first.

She had to have loved him at least once.  Maybe she still did.  He would never know now.  She would not come back.  He knew that.  And he would not go after her.  There he sat paralyzed on the dirty front porch of his apartment, their apartment at one time.  He did not care that the dirt would soil and possibly ruin the designer beige and cream pinstripe suit he had tailored for him.  He did not care about the fact that his hand was broken or the subsequent hole in the wall.

She would not come back.  One tear fell from his right eye.  Just one.  The tin man finally got his heart.  She never really knew how he felt for her.  He was never able to express it.  He thought at times his actions may have shown it.  What did that matter now? Water under the bridge.  She would not come back. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

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I Blame Bob!

Posted in Anger, Life, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on December 7, 2011| 8 Comments »

I have ranted on this topic more then once in this blog, but here I go again anyway.  I hate automotive repair.  First off I have no idea about anything in the field thus making me susceptible to every sinister guy in the business.  Now I know a thing or two and am someone when on my full game is not to be reckoned with.  I can sell ice to a mother fucking Eskimo.  Shit I sold a surfboard once to a guy who lived in Ohio.  Put me in a situation where I have limited knowledge and I find myself a bit on the ignorant side.  Here is a story how a minor brake job became an adventure, cause in Lisanti Land nothing is ever minor.

I do a ton of driving. If you are serious about surfing in Santa Barbara it is a reality that you are putting at least eighty miles a day on your car, unless of course you enjoy surfing crap at Lead Better.  As a result I need to keep my whip in the best working order possible.  When my brakes started squeaking this past Saturday I knew it was time to get it looked at.  My roommate Ryan knew a guy who he claimed to be cheap and good.  I like cheap and good is even better. Throw in a free cup of coffee and box of ring dings and I would marry that guy.

I go over to Bob’s make shift little garage over on Milpas St.  at 11am on Monday.  I asked him how long he though and he said two hours.  No worries. I cruised home, studied for my baking final, took my baking final.  Got home around 4pm and still no word from good old Bob.  I call him up and here is what I got “well uh?  yeah the civic. ummmmm?????, funny story. We ended up getting the wrong size brake pads.  They are about 2mm too big.  Man thought we were going to nail it too”.  Astounded I was about to lose my cool, but I was standing on the bluff above Lead Better watching the sun set, just taking in the beauty of the world around me.

I was calm.  I took a deep breath and remembered that I am not in New Jersey, but in California where the concept of time  and responsibility is well, a bit less understood.  “Bob” I reply “I must say I am a bit disappointed in you and your operation. I needed my car back in the morning and now I do not have one.”  Bob said “yeah that is unfortunate, its a real bummer we got the wrong part”.   I took another long breath, got a grip of my emotions and said “Yep Bob it is really unfortunate and a real bummer.  I guess I will see you tomorrow then.”  “I promise Chris it will be done first thing in the morning”.  “What time do you think that will be around Bob?” I asked.  “10:00am”.

I hung up and threw one of my standard tantrums.  ‘Fuck you Bob you stupid mother fucking moron.  Its a real bummer indeed, for me. Fuck, Stupid ass Californian.  Breaks should take less then two hours, I know worked at a fucking gas station for two years.   C’mon Bob, C’mon man’.  I thought about going there and kicking his ass, but that would just mean I would have to fix my own breaks.  If I had that skill I would not have needed Bob in the first place.  I was frustrated to say the least.

My phone rang again and it was Bob.  Excited that maybe he figured something out I picked up.  “Hey Chris I just thought of something.  I have a buddy who drives a cab and he can hook it up if you need a ride”.  What?  Hook it up? What does that mean exactly.  That was Bob’s ingenious solutions???  I thanked him for the very kind offer and hung up.

My only saving grace was the bag of Nachos I had in my hand that I made at work on Friday.  Some how they still were not soggy.  It was classic. Ryan and I were standing there looking rather homeless eating chips out of a grease stained brown paper bag we kept passing back and forth.  Anyone walking by just figured we were two bums sharing a 40oz.  Yep nothing but big things for me in life folks.  Then I thought about hanging myself, but as usual I could not find any rope long enough or strong enough.  Since Bob had my car it was not like I could go to the store and procure some.  Another suicide attempt foiled in the planning stage by pure laziness oh and of course BOB!!!!

Still alive, who should come walking down the gnarl trail from Oceano?  None less then Kooky Kyle all dressed up like a real estate agent or something.  He grabbed the bag of chips for a hand full as well.  As it turns out he needed a ride to some hotel on the water front to apply for a bell boy job.  That kid is a go getter.  Ryan lent Kooky his truck parked in the car port.  Now Kooky not used to driving a large truck, not to mention the fact that my car port is the worst designed thing I have ever seen in my life, ended up catching the side of the truck on the side of the building thus knocking off Ryan’s side view mirror.

Another calamity caused by the incompetence of Bob.  Now Kooky has to get Ryan’s truck fixed.  Santa Barbara is like prison, you go in for a minor sentence and get stuck for twenty years cause you killed a guy in fight to save your own skin.  I had been invited to a pot luck dinner party that night.  Usually I do my own meals at the Lisanti Palace, but I thought a change of scenery might be nice and Lindsay said there would be some girls there.  I am trying to force myself to try and date a little bit.  I feel like it is the only way I am ever going to move on.  I cooked up Fettuccine Florentine.  Fettuccine Rigate, mixed with a creamy Alfredo sauce, sauteed spinach, summer squash, zuchini and portobello mushrooms.  I topped the whole thing off with chopped heirloom tomatoes.   It was quite the dish if I do say so myself.

Then I was faced with the dilemma of how to get there.  I was banking on getting a ride from Ryan.  When I went to get him dude was cutting z’s in his bed.  I was not about to wake the guy and after the Kooky incident not about to take the truck either.  Kooky and I decided to hoof it with the hopes of hitching.  At this point I am walking up Cliff Dr. towards Albertson’s with a roasting pan full of pasta and two oven mits on my hands.  Kooky was behind me with his thumb out and a bottle of Syrah.  Lucky for us we got picked up only about 1/4 of the way up.

They were nice enough to drop right in front of the house we wanted to go to.  I with my weak ass sense of direction had us walk the wrong way up the street, before realizing we were right in front of the place.  The dinner party was a mix of angry east coasters, hipsters and hippies.  Sounds like there could have been a fight.  Good thing everyone was happily liquored up.  I had a great time eventually stumbling home at midnight.  Thanks Bob for all the extra exercise!

Next morning I woke up and headed over to my good friend Bob’s to collect my car.  I got there just before ten only to see my car still on blocks and no work done.  I asked Bob how long he thought and he replied “two hours”.  Two hours from when Bob!?!  I decided to walk down to Winchells this dank doughnut place for some breakfast.  Its funny but comparatively walking down Milpas in conjunction to Sate St it is like a whole different country.  There are all these janky little Mexican shops.  Some tweaker bald black lady yelled some profanity at me.  There were gang bangers, day laborers, homeless and degenerates every where.  The restaurants are a little bit more sketchy. I really thought today might have been the day I was going to get that stabbing I have patiently been hoping for.

I got to Winchells and enjoyed a bagel breakfast sandwich, doughnut and cup of tea while reading some of the more obscure short stories of Hemingway.  You think I am negative pick up some of that guys works.  I finally understand his pain.  He carried the pain of a woman for the rest of his life.  That is what real love is maybe, not being able to move on.  I can respect that in a man.  As for myself I think I am finally paying for my misdoings in life.  If that is the case then I really do understand why now.

I cruised back to Bob’s around noon (once again not getting stabbed or even challenged) and my car is still on blocks.  By this point I was over it and just sat down on a pile of old tires and read more.  Finally at 1pm my car was done.  I got Bob to kick down the price by $50 bucks for my inconvenience.  That is how a two hour break job ends up taking 26 hours and all the events that ensued as a result.  For now on I am just going to blame all my problems on Bob!  Bob Ruined MY LIFE.

Here is an alternate form of transportation Bob could have suggested.

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Things That Are Insane…

Posted in Anger, Deep Thoughts, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 4, 2011| 4 Comments »

If you have not noticed the amount of blogs featured here on SurfingRuinedMyLife.net have become a bit limited, sort of like a fine vintage of a great bottle of Bordeaux.  Ok its not really like that at all.  Things have been a bit busy and my mood and spirits shift up and down like a crazy carnival roller coaster.  “Better to have loved and lost then not loved at all” I find myself in a constant struggle whether to agree or disagree with such.  I know I need to handle my shit and I think things are getting better.  I had a tough go a few weeks ago thanks to a certain circumstance that I am not really ready to discuss here.

I need more time to stew on it, come to terms with the results a bit.  Check out the November Surflog, 11/19 for a little on what happened there.   All I will say is that I am still in a state of constant amazement of the world around me, but more so on the way things have panned out for me at the moment.  I guess it could be worse.  I could be a heroine addict  and then not only be unhappy but also slowly killing myself with a filthy drug addiction.  Believe me after being through two heroine addict roommates back to back in the last four months It makes me feel a bit better about being a drunk.  As they say in Casablanca:

Nazi Guy: Nationality?
Rick: Drunkard
French Inspector: That would make Monsieur Nick a citizen of the world.

I think a great number of people out there drink in excess, but are afraid to admit it to themselves.  The first step is always admittance after all.  Then the next step is deciding if it is a problem or not.  I am still in the midst of the second step.  One thing for sure I will never give up my vin.  What the fuck is all this random ranting about? Well I think it is time to fill everyone in on what has been going down in Lisanti Land the last few weeks.  I am going to try something new this time and I hope it is entertaining.

“And with Daren’s Help We got that Chicken”

Me and Penny, the coolest Chicken in the world!

 There was this episode of Seinfeld entitled “The Voice” and it ran in the 9th and final season of the show.  Kramer gets this business intern fraudulently from NYU and then loses him when the school realizes “Kramerica Industries was no more then a man, and an apartment that may or may not contain a chicken”. Kooky now following in my footsteps working as a stock boy at Mesa Produce, the same place I got my start here in SB (look at me now kids, still partying at the Wild Cat whooot! The more things change the more they stay the same.  I came out here to get over a woman, only to meet another and then have her leave me right back where I started) happened to come across the opportunity to get a free chicken.

How could I say no to that.  The plan was since the chicken was useless, too old to lay eggs I thought it would be a grand idea to use her in a Recipe D’Jour feature called how to make a Chicken from Scratch similiar to the  “How to make a Pumpkin Pie from Scratch” feature only a bit more deranged and disturbing.  Then again it has been a year since that blog was written and that is exactly what Lisanti Land has become these days.  I was all ready to take my meat cleaver to her head.  Then one morning after a tough night out I was sitting in my backyard in an attempt to find inner peace and wisdom within the confines of my serenity garden.  Who jumps into my lap but the Chicken.  I was petting her and she was clucking and all seemed alright.

I promised her she would not die by my hands.  Unfortunately chickens are really messy animals and shit all over the place.  You know that expression where people say this sucks worse then chicken shit.  Let me tell you that chicken shit sucks pretty bad.  I built this ghetto rigged coup out of some chicken wire I found in the trash a while back and some broken picture frame I found for Ade’s to use as an art project once upon a time.  It was rather makeshift but did the job.  Well about two days ago Penny found her way out of the pen and has not been heard from since.  Ryan and I think the Mexican gardener who always comes into my garden and fucks up my plants stole her.  Kooky thinks she got eaten by one of the many predatory creatures that would love to make a meal out of a poor defenseless chicken.  In my fantasy land I like to think that she now lives safely and happily with in the confines of the thickly vined in area behind my building eating bugs and living the high life, whatever that maybe for a chicken.

“But What if it works”

There are good ideas, there are bad ideas and then there are the ideas you have when you are walking home from the bar at 2am drunk as shit.  There we found ourselves Kooky and I about a block from The Kitty on Ortega street staring into a fifty inch projection television set.  “Its does not work” I said.  “But what if it does” Kooky replied.  Next thing I know I am carrying a giant TV across town at 2am.  It was not that heavy just awkward as hell to hold.  We had to make occasional pit stops but only in spots where we could put the thing down on a surface just high enough that the TV could be propped up with out any extra lifting.   We passed some black guy near the Castillo 7-11 and he said “I have seen some stupid ideas in my day but this just may take the cake”.

We passed a cop car, campus security and countless others.  No one stopped us, tried to rob us and we did not get arrested.  Only in California.  In New Jersey we would not have made it one block with that thing.  We made it three miles.  An hour later we got home exhausted only to find out the next morning that it did not work.  Awesome.  We decided to pay it forward and put it outside the building with a sign that read “Free it works :)”.  Don’t ever forget who the king of the assholes is.

Those are the faces of champions...or idiots...you make the call.

Surfing

I needed a woman in my life. “I’m not all bad, but was just drawn that way”

Read the surflog. All my surfing escapades and everything in between winds up there these days.  I do up date it every day.  I did get a new J7 Surfboard. I went a little more robust in the tail this time around.  So far it is going really well for me, although I have only gotten three session on it and have yet to cut its teeth at Rincon.  Time will tell.  Kooky did some dank ass art work on it as well.  Jason is on it these days and you really cant go wrong with a surfboard from him.

School
School has been a pain in the ass as always.  In my baking class I managed to be the only one in my class to pull off a flawless dessert and bread.  Still I was only bestowed a 91 because as my professor put it I did not challenge myself with the dessert.  I made a chocolate almond biscotti.  Besides I had never baked a loaf of bread before and I missed both bread classes thus handicapping myself a bit rather then not challenging myself.  I wanted to do a dry run on the bread at home, but ended up drinking instead.  I went in cold, book in hand and winged it.  Somehow I managed to bake two bad ass loaves if Italian bread.  Now maybe it is my heritage or that the man in the sky decided to cut me a break for a change. Either way I was rather proud of my bread.

How do you like them apples...errr, bread?

In my pantry class It was a group final where we had to produce a grilled chicken salad, eggs Florentine,  Rice Pilaf and a  grilled sandwich.  I did all the cooking, all the knife cuts and the final plating yet somehow was hit with a 5 out of 10 for execution because I mixed my mirepoix together prior to cooking for the pilaf and he was pissed that I missed the last two classes in a row.  Fuck, I cook for a living and most of the class was rather rudimentary for me.  I failed work study cause I did not bother to hand in any of the work and catering cause I did not do any of the work .  Last semester I pulled a 4.0 this semester it is shaping out to be a bit lower then that.  Hey if your not going to be first you might as well be last eh? Here are some shitty quality pictures of the project I took on my cell phone.

The Rice Pilaf severed in a roasted eggplant bowl.

Grilled Chicken Salad molded into primary shapes

The Trifector

So there you have it in a nut shell what has been going down in The Land of Lisanti.  Hope you found a laugh or two from my gnarl.

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