Coyotes - Blake Cotton

Bands I can remember seeing

1995
FooFighters
Ween
Jawbreaker
(Saltaire Pavilion, Utah)

1997
Survivor
(Idaho Falls Street Fest)

1998
Violent Femmes
Poe
that dog.
Blur
(Biggest Ass Show on Earth, Salt Lake Fair Grounds)

1999
Vanilla Ice
(The Rock, Pocatello, ID)

2000
Bob Dylan
Asleep at the Wheel
(Holt Arena, ISU, Pocatello, ID)

Sarah Brightman
(Delta Center, Salt Lake City)

2003
Dwight Yoakam
(Idaho Falls Civic Auditorium)

2004
Einstürzende Neubauten
(First Avenue, Minneapolis)

2005
Al Green
(San Manuel Casino, CA)

2006
Merle Haggard
(San Manuel Casino, CA)

The Cramps
(Key Club, Morongo, CA)

Dropkick Murpheys
(Key Club, Morongo, CA)

2007
Kronos Quartet
(Royce Hall, UCLA, Los Angeles, CA)

2008
Janet Klein and Her Parlor Boys
Hobo Jazz
(Folk Music Center, Claremont, CA)

The Cure
(Shrine Auditorium, Los Angeles, CA)

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
Spiritualized
Cat Power
(Hollywood Bowl, Los Angeles, CA)

The Knockabouts
(Charly's Pub, The Weatherford Hotel, Flagstaff, AZ)

Neil Diamond
(Hollywood Bowl, Los Angeles, CA)

2009
Janet Klein and her Parlor Boys
Hobo Jazz
(Folk Music Center, Claremont, CA)

Paul McCartney
Leonard Cohen
Morrissey
The Ting Tings
(Coachella Valley Arts and Music Festival, Indio, CA)

Gogol Bordello
Edward Sharpe and the Electric Zeros
(Fox Theater, Pomona, CA)

Pink Floyd The Wall-E - 5 of 5 - Mother

Pink Floyd The Wall-E - 4 of 5 - Another Brick in the Wall, part 2

Pink Floyd The Wall-E - 3 of 5 - Another Brick in the Wall, part 1

Pink Floyd The Wall-E - 2 of 5 - The Thin Ice

Pink Floyd The Wall-E - 1 of 5 - In the Flesh?

A Pink Floyd movie synch that I may have discovered... At least, I couldn't find one anywhere else.

Cargo Culte - Blake Cotton, written by Serge Gainsbourg

Manos: Hands of Fate - Fan Trailer, Einstürzende Neubauten - Neun Arme

I was bored. Decided to edit a trailer in such a way that it would make someone believe the film was actually a horror movie, or at least some kind of thriller (which was the director's intention). Took about an hour and a half.

Music: Neun Arme by Einstürzende Neubauten from the album Zeichnungen des Patienten OT

Stupid Aspect Ratios

I have been working on some old video projects recently, along with some new stuff I am doing for work and I have finally learned what I was screwing up with the aspect ratio on my posted videos.



I have a touch of obsessive compulsive disorder and knowing how to fix these things makes me want to stay up all night and make them perfect. Not gonna. Too many things I haven't done that I need to finish. But eventually...

Temples of Bangkok, Days 3 and 4

Elephants in BKK and Surin

The Dead Monkey Scene

A few weeks ago, possibly after the monkey-ripping-off-a-lady's-face incident, I started to tell my friend Marcus about a one act play that I co-wrote in high school (approximately age 17) for the district drama competition. It is a beautiful piece of literature; dadaist, surrealist, heavily influenced by Python (I would imagine). Reading through it again, I have no idea why we didn't advance to the state competition.

Enjoy!

___________________________________________________________________

Circa Winter, 1998

The Dead Monkey
by Blake Cotton & Erin West

Dramatis Personae:
Erin, a woman
Blake, a man

Prologue (to audience):
Erin: Have you ever treasured something so much that your life would be over without it?
Blake: Have you ever been so jealous you would kill?
Erin: Have you ever had something you loved wrenched away from you? Did you feel your soul go with it?
Both: Was it a monkey? Hello, we are _____ and we will be performing the original scene: The Dead Monkey

ACT I, Scene I

Blake is in a kitchen by himself. After a short interval, Erin enters the room.

Blake: Hi, hon. How was your day?
Erin: Hello.
Blake: What's the matter with you?
Erin: You know what's the matter with me.
Blake: Huh?
Erin: Did you think I wouldn't find out?
Blake: I don't know what you're talking about.
Erin: The monkey, you killed the monkey.
Blake: What monkey?
Erin: The monkey I raised since it was a baby monkey. The monkey I spent my days with while you were at work. The monkey I was going to give to my first daughter on her wedding day. The monkey that meant everything in the world to me.
Blake: Oh. That monkey. I didn't do anything to your monkey.
Oh yeah? Well, what's this then?

Erin walks to the side of the kitchen and pulls out a trash bag, from which she pulls a dead monkey.

Blake: Looks like a dead monkey, but I've never seen that monkey before in my life. It doesn't look a thing like your monkey.
Erin: Don't you think I know my own monkey? My pride and joy?
Blake: No. Your monkey was a lot smaller.
Erin: No. This is my monkey.
Blake: No, it's not.
Erin: Yes, it is.
Blake: NO, IT'S NOT.
Erin: Yes it is.
Blake: Okay, if I admit that I killed your monkey, would you be nicer to me?
Erin: No.
Blake: Good, 'cause I didn't kill him.
Erin: Who killed him then?
Blake: Well, it wasn't me.
Erin: You are always lying about stuff, like when little Bobby mysteriously died after falling off the house.
Blake: I only tried to save him. I saw him fall off the house so I climbed up on the roof to have more empathy for him.
Erin: You pushed him and you know it. But what about my monkey?
Blake: What about the monkey? Who cares about your monkey? What about my three toed sloth? Do you really think I'd believe he got on the treadmill and turned it up to 45 all by himself? I loved that sloth. He reminded me of my deceased brother Beau.
Erin: The one with one eye?
Yes. And three toes on each foot. The one YOU loved!
Erin: He DID have wonderful toes, all six of them (pause) But that's not the point here. What we have here is a dead monkey. My monkey. And you killed him.
Blake: Alright, I admit it, but what are you gonna do, send me to the monkey police?
Erin: I hate you!
Blake: I hate you too, that's why I killed your monkey. You only married me because I reminded you of Beau (pause) but with one more eye and (pause) four more toes.
Erin: That is a lie! I married you because I was drunk. Don't flatter yourself like that. You don't look a thing like Beau, even if you took out four toes and an eye. Beau was beautiful.
Blake: Well, fine. What are you gonna do about it? What are you gonna do about me? What are you gonna do about the monkey? What are you gonna do about our children?
Erin: What children? You killed Bobby!
Blake: I didn't kill Bobby, and I didn't kill the monkey.
Erin: You killed my monkey, you admitted it.
Blake: Yeah, well you killed my sloth.
Erin: That's it.

Erin picks up the dead monkey and hurls him at Blake, knocking Blake out cold. She picks up the phone and dials

Erin: Hello? Is this the Idaho Falls Monkey Police?

CURTAIN

1933 Hearst News Reel

This is one of the short films you're shown in the movie room of Casa Grande, the largest building of Hearst Castle.

I bootlegged it, but both tour guides (who probably should have their own blog entries, but later, later) said nothing and one even ducked under my shot so as not to ruin my product.

Now all I gotta do is send it out to Bangkok and have it sold on the street. The cover will have guns, tits and explosions.

B

Twilight Immaculate Conception

Vanessa and I drove up the California coast today, headed for Pismo Beach and tomorrow, to Hearst Castle.

We stopped in Solvang to check things out. It's a strange little fake Dutch town. We saw a Hollywood memorabilia shop a lot like the one on Hollywood Boulevard only much smaller and fake Dutch. When we went it we saw a life-size (I have no idea whether or not this is true) cardboard cutout of the Twilight mope.

While perusing the cheap fake Hollywood souvenirs I heard a blood curdling squeal, and saw a young girl, maybe 11 or 12 year old, run up to the cut out and press her body against it and started licking it (maybe she thought she was French kissing it). It was disturbing. But not as disturbing as what happened a minute or two later.

Vanessa and I continued looking at the crap in the store. And I heard a young girl's voice say "Oh my god (pronounced the way that "OMG" sounds in your head when someone types it),".....
"OH MY GOD, I ALMOST HAD A BABY WHEN I SAW THAT!"

I don't know if maybe she was just confused about the feelings that the vampire mope made her feel or something else, but I KNOW that her father, who accompanied her on this little adventure, must have been supremely proud.

Blech.

2009/01/31 - Joshua Tree: Part 2, Fried Liver Wash and Keys View

2009/01/31 - Joshua Tree: Part 1, Cottonwood Canyon

My Bloody Valentine...In THREE demensions. Not the usual four.

Vanessa and I got our 3D glasses as we entered the cinema. I said to the attendant, "Do these work for 'four-eyes'?", said the Attendant, "I have no idea". Fun guy.

Apparently these shades are dangerous. They come with a warning:



But, they look tres sexy:



Ask Vanessa about T.T.

Joshua Tree

If all goes to plan, Vanessa and I will be going to Joshua Tree National Park tomorrow. We've been planning this for weeks, if not months, but weather, illness, tiredness, or trips to Thailand have consistently gotten in the way. No more! Joshua Tree is amazing in the winter, slightly unbearable in the summer, but always beautiful. We're going to bring the video camera again, so amongst my Thailand videos we'll have an episode of the desert in winter.

Wat Saket - The Golden Mount -or- I have been reading way too much Hemingway lately (if that is possible).

In the morning we left the safety of our encampment and head out through the early morning din. The city is never quiet, but it is quieter than usual early in the day. The train came. The train took us to Saphan Taksin on the edge of the Chao Phraya river. We would take the boat.

Across the beautiful brown, garbage-filled waters we traveled. It was still early morning when we docked a few miles up-river, Pom Prap Sattru Phai. We wended our way through the morning markets, selling the wares, hawking their drinks and delicacies, pushing their fried insects. The smell was strong. We continued.

There is something exciting about the Bangkok streets when the vendors have set up. The sidewalks bustle with voices, haggling, inviting you to haggle, imploring you to haggle, haggling and haranguing. Haggling in Bangkok, other parts of Thailand, and indeed I am sure in any region of the world where goods and services have their prices bargained upon instead of merely stated and agreed to, is a wonderful experience. It is a dance. When you return home the desire to not merely settle for the given price sticks with you.

We saw a few temples that morning. We had seen many temples in the past few days, including a large scale model of Angkor Wat at the royal palace the previous day. We continued.

We arrived at our destination just when the sun was directly overhead. The Golden Mount. We saw the memorial sites blanketing the hillside, Thais are by and large Buddhists and when they shuffle off this mortal coil, they aren't buried but cremated. There wouldn't be enough room for the dead amongst all the living.

We passed the tuktuk drivers, the taxi stands, the souvenier shops. As we found the stairs I saw a man circling our group on a bi-cycle. I thought nothing of it. A local catching an extended glimpse of four farang including one who was rather tall, especially in relation to the average Thai man, and topped with blondish hair and a reddish beard. We began our attempt on the mount.

There was a spring in the midst of the monuments, and we stopped to take in its serene drippiness. Suddenly I felt myself seized in the moment. Not by the beauty of the scene, but literally seized by the arm. I believed myself to be mid-robbery, and I turned and looked, ready to engage in fisticuffs to protect my Baht and the Baht of my comrades. It was the bi-cycle man.

In the mid-day light it was plain to see this small man had spotted his game, tracked it silently, and without word made his kill. My arm was no longer mine. He had hunted and claimed it fair and square. You do not quibble over trophies from the hunt. You simply congratulate the hunter and wish bitterly that you had a glass of Irish Whiskey, some shade, and a good book by Dostoevsky or Tolstoy. You would get your trophy eventually, surely. And your trophy would be even grander and more magnificent than the trophy of your rival hunter.

My greatest respect, O Mighty Thai Hunter. You have won the day. You have won the day.



Vanessa thinks it's because I look like a Buddha (a fact I cannot deny, what with my Buddha belly, cropped hair and ever-present jolly laugh), but would you smack the physical representation of enlightenment on the ass as you left your one encounter with him? I think not.



Thanks to Marcus and the other people I stole pictures from.

See the video a post or so back. George, Elva and Marcus are my co-conspirators. I never got the name of my fan.

My Bangkok Admirer

Sleep and the Weird Tings That Come From the Lack of It

I haven't slept much lately. I guess I am a ninny; I can't travel abroad without getting Montezuma's or Buddha's or someone's Revenge, and I really can't handle the jet lag.


The worst part, aside from the burning eyes, nearly falling asleep while driving, having to focus with all of my energy just to type up a lesson plan at work and waking up at 3am, is that during the wee wee hours I have ample time to get songs stuck in my head that I would not normally even consider listening to.

I am not going to blame insomnia for ALL of my shameful pop music guilty pleasures, Kylie, that one song by Kelly Clarkson, Rhianna, but The Ting Tings definitely spring from that sleepless well.

I remember being at a coffee shop with my girl and hearing That's Not My Name being played over the house speakers. I said to Vanessa, "People actually listen to this crap? It's horrible. The girl can't even sing! I can't believe this is what passes for good music now," or some other music nazi-ish thing like that. This morning I found myself thinking about how snottily punkish that girl's singing is, or in the bridge how great the band sounds when the girl is singing the pretty back-up vocals and spitting out "That's not my name, that's not my name!" over top of it.

It's a kick-ass song, and the rest of the album is really great too.

I need some sleep, surely, but I think The Ting Tings are my new favorite why-not-go-ahead-and -dig-them band.


Oh, and I got that sweet comic from http://garfieldminusgarfield.net/

A Tasty Nugget of Cinematic Goodness

If you have not seen this flamingly original piece of American cinema, do yourself a favor and see this flamingly original piece of American cinema.

Fans?

Digging around on netflix during my lunchbreak, I found that I have some "fans" on the community area of said movie rental website. I don't know what that really means, or why anyone would be my netflix fan, but I got some. Maybe it was for my USA Up All Night movie list (which is basically stolen directly from the wikipedia page's list of films shown at one point or another on Up All Night.) Why a fan of me? Who knows?

Film Review: Gymkata

(To get an idea of just how terrible-awesome this movie is check out this website, it will show you all of the great suckitude of Gymkata: the last international gymnastics/espionage film you will even need to see! There are animated screen shots and a detailed analysis of crapocity)

Gymkata

*****

Oh. Gymkata. Such an awful movie. Such an amazing spectacle. This is the first movie I remember seeing as a kid that I knew was horrible and I loved it for it. It's great to see what a group of people thought would appeal to the masses: an Olympic hero, ninjas, pointless deadly competitions. And how incredibly poorly even these bad ideas are executed (Parallel bars and pommel horses conveniently appear as if from nowhere). The sound effects are way too prominent in the mix, the acting is fantastically wooden. However, the death scenes are worth rewinding over and over and some of the dialogue is amazingly bad "Why don't we just send in special forces?" "Military actions are out of style" Better send in a gymnast/ninja to win the most dangerous, deadly game in the world. "Hear the only sound of axe, cutting air" If you don't mind losing 90 minutes of your life to a horrible movie, give Gymkata a chance, at least for the sake of the poor Flag-Ninjas.

Film Review: Poultrygeist - Night of the Chicken Dead

In lieu of an actual post either about Thailand or anything relevant while I am working on travel videos, I will be posting a few of my reviews from netflix.

Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead

*****

Poultrygeist is a fantastic, over the top, gross-out horror comedy. It has a lot to say about American consumer culture, fast food, modern liberalism, animal rights, but it never forgets that it is a TROMA film. There were times I didn't simply laugh out loud, or gasp at the disgusting images on the screen, but involuntarily groaned in multiple places. The gore and filth are so wonderful and funny and unrealistic. Pure Troma. The songs are clever, if not sung particularly well, and Jason Yachanin, who plays Arby the Hero, seems to be having a lot of fun. It's not PC, and it's definitely not family friendly, but if you like a good gross-out comedy, queue this one.

Surin for some discomfort

Ok, I have been sick for two days. I won't go into details but, suffice it to say, I haven't been able to go too far from my bathroom.

About the only thing I have accomplished in the last two days (and I do use that term loosely) is have my laundry sent out.

I really want a cheeseburger.

Mont Blanc

I haggled my way into purchasing a set of two (fake? (yes, I should think so!)) Mont Blanc pens last night (maybe two nights ago). I am not really into high end pens or even knock offs of high end pens, but I remember a story my mom or my grandma told me about my grandpa. He was just becoming a profiler in FBI and was thinking about moving to Bakersfield, California. Grandma cried (as anyone should if they were facing the prospect of moving to Bakersfield) and so Grandpa took an appointment in another city. But, he bought himself a Mont Blanc. Grandpa always collected pens. Ballpoints, fountain pens, maybe some quills, bics, anything that was really cool, or swanky or stylish and chances were, if you told him you liked any particular pen (which was probably hooked in between the buttons of a dress shirt or a golf shirt) he'd say, "Well, now you have one," and it was yours. I know it was because he was completely selfless and loving, but it may have also been an excuse to go and buy a new pen.

Damnit I miss that guy.

I just found a video my uncle made

And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda

In Australia, to "waltz Matilda" means to travel with all your belongings in a sack on your back. Like a little boy running away from home, like a hobo with his bindle. When you are waltzing Matilda your wanderlust is a dance and your rucksack is your best girl. She calls you out and you aren't the one in the couple who decides when the dance is over. There is a great Australian ballad called Waltzing Matilda

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me"
And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled,
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me".

It is a wonderful song in its own right but like any other great folk song has been re-appropriated for use in other songs, Tom Waits's Tom Traubert's Blues and The Pogues' ...And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda. (It was actually written by someone else, but you cannot beat the Pogues for song interpretation).

My particular Matilda is a Kelty Slingshot, it's green and black, it has webbing, loops for ropes, pockets, pockets and pockets, secret compartments, and is tougher than hell. She waltzed with me down to Mexico City, to Oaxaca, up to the frigid Great White North, to Hawaii, Lake Superior, Crestline, Cucamonga and now Siam.

Day 2

Well, I found more to do in Bangkok. I filmed a lot of it which makes me feel weird, like a tourist, kind of disconnected. But, I don't actually feel like I missed anything. I stopped looking through the view finder and just started holding the camera at my waist. I have like three hours of video from today to wade through: crazy malls, a real life Kurtz compound, two Buddhist temples (I climbed one of them). I traveled the main river in Bangkok on a little boat, got accosted by numerous Bangkok Ladies, some Bangkok Barbershop Girls, and complained about shopping and going to malls.
Please credit: Brian @ heybrian.com

Videos will follow, but not tonight.

Day 1 Trailer

I didn't feel like spending hours cutting together today's footage, so I chopped it up and slapped it together in a montage! Maybe I'll make a full edit later, there were some good conversations.

Cities of Angels

Over dinner I learned that Bangkok is not the native name of, well, the city of Bangkok. According to wikipedia the full ceremonial name of the city is:

Krung-dēvamahānagara amararatanakosindra mahindrayudhyā mahātilakabhava navaratanarājadhānī purīramya utamarājanivēsana mahāsthāna amaravimāna avatārasthitya shakrasdattiya vishnukarmaprasiddhi.

meaning:

"The city of angels, the great city, the eternal jewel city, the impregnable city of God Indra, the grand capital of the world endowed with nine precious gems, the happy city, abounding in an enormous Royal Palace that resembles the heavenly abode where reigns the reincarnated god, a city given by Indra and built by Visnukam"



In comparison, the full name of Los Angeles seems puny:
El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reina de Los Angeles del Rio de Porciuncula

"The Town of Our Lady, the Queen of the Angels on the Porciuncula River"

But, as my pal Marcus pointed out, you can't shorten Bangkok's name down to two letters. Suck it Bangkok.

Bangkok

I'm here after 18 hours in the air, a little bit of time travel and a lot of feeling like my head was going to explode.

Bangkok airport (I'm not sure which one but it looks like it's from the future) is pretty cool with its steel cathedral arches and wide-openness. I'm in the Conrad which is like the more upscale Hilton (Conrad-Hilton, ooh, sly). I haven't slept in two days, I have eaten a ton of curry, I have walked miles of Bangkok, and I have fed a baby elephant.

I drank Mexican iced coffee, shared 4 pitchers of Singha (Lion) beer, saw innumerable Bangkok Ladies, saw at least one lady-boy, a bunch of lepers, smelled a lot of garbage, and got fitted for and bought five tailored shirts with french cuffs.

I can't remember it all right now. Another post will be forthcoming.

All in all, a pretty f---ing cool day.

B

Ps. I'm gonna post some video clips from Day 1 soon.

Music choice for the day: Albert Goes West by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Pachyderm Proboscis

I have been promised by heads of departments of local universities that I will indeed be picked up by an elephant trunk. I cannot begin to explain how great this prospect is. Elephants are undeniably (not true) the greatest things ever to evolve out of the primordial ooze.






A few years ago I took a tour of the fire station at the reservation where I work. In the process, I got to take the fire pole from upstairs to the fire engine. It was August in Southern California, somewhere between the lush coastal area and the dry cracked desert, so consequently it was very warm and my arms stuck to the pole and squeaked and hissed all the way down to the bottom. My arms were red and in pain, but damnit I RODE THE FIRE POLE!










I used to play in a band. My friend Ron was the drummer. Ron has his own waste management business and one winter on the way to rehearsal, Ron let me stand on the back of the garbage truck as he drove from the country road, down his miles-long driveway to his house/our rehearsal space. I rode on the back of the goddamn GARBAGE TRUCK!










So, three childhood dreams will have been accomplished soon.

I found out that I am taller than the maximum height limit for the space shuttle, so I guess I will not become an astronaut at any point in my life. I can only hope that I will one day become a professional baseball player or He-Man.

B

Stage 1 Begins

Current Location:

Rancho Cucamonga

Current Music:

Going Out West, Tom Waits

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, preparations for international adventure begin within the hour. I know for sure that I need some comfortable shoes, beyond that... I am not so sure. To that end, I am going to try to find some new balance cross training shoes that:
A) have good soles (for possibly climbing temples, outrunning INTERPOL, or dodging giant rolling boulders),
B) fit a 14 wide foot
C) don't look girly

With any luck, this will be the cornerstone of my trip prep and I may actually get a bag packed prior to the night before departure.

January 4th, 16:47

Blags

Reposted from my dead livejournal

Current Location:

Rancho Cucamonga

My friend Marcus also has a blog and will be talking about the Thailand trip. It is guaranteed to be better written AND it has really cool pictures.

http://marctonysmith.blogspot.com/

Bangkok Trip

Reposted from my dead livejournal

Current Location:

Cucamonga

Current Music:

Long Way Home, Tom Waits

I am going to Bangkok and eastern Thailand for an international indigenous culture conference. Three of us from my work will be going for two weeks. I'll be in Bangkok for three days, Surin for seven and possibly an excursion to Angkor Wat.

Up until now I have not been so far abroad. I went to Canada a few times when I was a kid and for some conferences as an adult. I went to Mexico in 2002 on a romantic excursion: Mexico City, Oaxaca, Huatulco. Some of my favorite places. But, I have never crossed an ocean.

I have been promised elephant rides, the sight of monkeys, lots of indigenous grain alcohol, and pretty sweet digs.

I usually have a hard time sleeping the first night I travel too far from my home base. Add time travel into the mix (I fly for 18 hours but it takes two days to arrive, and when I come back I actually arrive at home ten minutes before I left) and I may not sleep for weeks.

My friend and coworker Marcus has vowed to eat a scorpion. I guess I probably should too.

Currently dreading: crash landing on an uncharted island and having to fend off polar bears and a smoke monster.

January 3rd, 21:07

Not really getting ready for Bangkok

Reposted from my dead livejournal

Current Location:

Cucamonga

Edit: I mispelled my subject. I am good at the blogs.

I leave for Thailand on Thursday and I have little to no idea what I am going to take with me. Or even what I will need. I will be taking my camcorder and probably a thousand cassettes (and I will probably not be able to sleep), so maybe I can make some travel videos.

Currently dreading: 18 hour flight from LAX to Bangkok.