© 2005-2008 Citoyen du Monde Inc.™

Officially Moved

2009-09-03T17:04:00.001-07:00

I'm blogging over at www.citoyenmag.com now. Check it out.

Some People Simply Don't Mind The Sulfur

2008-10-15T09:42:00.000-07:00

I’ve been bouncing around New York City over the last four days revisiting every nook of inspiration. It’s been four-months since I left Little Italy. The clearest difference I’ve found so far between living and Mexico City and New York City is the freedom I have to roam, or saunter, as Oso loves to say, throughout the city. Whether it’s Park Slope, Prospect Heights, the East Village, Alphabet City, or somewhere in between the Upper West and the Upper East, I’m usually granted miles of space to expend my energy and curiosity. Yesterday I walked from 57th, up Central Park West, to 86th, cutting through Central park and arriving at the Met. I had a pretzel and it gave me the willies. In Mexico City, the offerings of Avenida Chapultapec towards Reforma and the Centro are hardly appetizing. Besides winding through hordes of men, women and children, sometimes motorcycles taking to the curbs, the streets are insanely long. (Thing Avenues in Manhattan.) Also, like Los Angeles, you usually hit a mile stretch where you can be on the street alone for blocks. What’s the fun in that?

There’s a street in Roma Norte called Medellin and it’s corner with Alvaro Obregon smells of sulfur. The asphalt is broken and the street is a mixture of gravel, dirt, concrete, tar and trash. Roma Norte suffered devastation in the last earthquake and I imagine these are the remnants left from the carnage. This street intrigues me because it’s scent, condition and link to a far off land once plagued by intense Narco-traffic inspires feelings of agitation, distress, fear and anxiety. Yet I never see anyone there. In the LES, there’s a street called Essex and it’s corner with Stanton reeks of sulfur, fart, exhaust from cabs and everything else in between. It’s walls are stained with graffiti, piss, shit and everything in between. Its sidewalks aren’t uprooted, but it gives me the same feeling as Medellin. Only difference: the street is hardly deserted.

Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

SuperBama Is In The House

2008-10-13T20:08:00.000-07:00

Bowery is the perfect spot for SuperBama to unleash his powers.

I spent my entire Sunday afternoon walking around Lower Manhattan with some friends. We stumbled upon this Obama poster walking South on Bowery and immediately snapped picture after picture. If you look closely, you can actually see his cape fluttering in the wind.

Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Podcast 1: We Should All Visit Alaska In The Winter.

2008-10-10T17:59:00.000-07:00

I'm heading to New York City to reacquaint myself with some friends, gastronomic goodies and sights that these eyes are eager to see. This is my first podcast. It's concise, but I need to crawl before I walk, que no? Enjoy the track and you'll be hearing from me again after a night out somewhere between a train and another train.

click to play

Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved

I'll Let My Gut Do The Talking

2008-10-08T10:27:00.000-07:00

I was asked the other day, "What's your favorite thing about Mexico City? Something you've enjoyed the most?" There was a considerable pause and I couldn't come up with one straight answer. I was like Palin dodging the "Bush Doctrine."

I can tell you what I don't like: not being able to get Moleskins, or the NY Times (unless I'm somewhere in Polanco) or feeling the "pena" that David Lida describes in his book First Stop In The World: Mexico City, The Capital Of The 21st Century" when changing my order at a restaurant. In the states, In 'n' Out will gladly change my order with no questions asked. But here, it would be more likely for me to ask for a back massage from the "joven" then get fruit topping on my hotcakes.

Which leads me to the answer I finally gave: food. Mexico City doesn't contain a surplus of exotic foods from other parts of the world. The only Indian place I've tried was decent, but the only Thai place I tried (a restaurant that charged me 500 pesos for the worst meal I've ever had in my life. And that's no hyperbole.) almost killed me. I lived in New York City prior to my D.F. move and maintained a healthy Vietnamese, Vodka Sauce Pizza and Pad See Yew diet. Here, it's all tacos and torta, enchiladas and chilaquiles and fish tacos every Tuesday. But I won't mince words: I love it.

Take this weekend. I was mulling over taking a recess from eating red meats for a bit when I was struck with an overwhelming craving for a torta. And not just any torta, but a torta from Salon Corona in the Centro Historico. Yes. They pack the meat and veggies and avocado slices as if they had a neverending supply stored somewhere in a cellar. The bread is soft, the meat is spiced and cooked to perfection, the avocados are always ripe and the pickled carrots, free of charge and provided as mostly a heaping garnish, add a delightful spice my sensitive palette can enjoy.

Then there's the variety of a street market. Where else can I find white pomegranate, carnitas, cod fish dipped in batter and assembled with fresh pico de gallo and avocado, arranged into a hefty 12 peso taco, or gnaw on some fresh jicama fruit with sweet spice all in the same place? It's an assortment that makes my gut scream "glory glory hallelujah!"

Just be wary of the street vendors shrimp cocktail. You can never be too sure where that water comes from.

Citizen 192
2005-2008 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

This Blog Won't Get A Lot Of Page Views And I'm Content With That: Part I.

2008-10-01T06:39:00.000-07:00

I wake up. Google feeds. One thousand websites to scour for the best story of the day to duplicate, repackage and sell to Latinos.

We have to make sure it's "digg gold." We can't use "newsy." We can't use "flowery." We have to pitch to everyone. Sell Gawker a story they already wrote about it. Google trends says the zip code 71209 is "Volcanic." Write up the post. Best not to be "too racial" about it.

Check the numbers. Sports Illustrated linked us. Nice.

Have we posted about the Mexican model who recorded a sextape on her cell phone? "It's huge!" Sell it.

Silence. Silence. Silence. For days and days and days. 1,000,000 page views and I couldn't be more vulnerable to bashing my head in with my new DVD player.

Twelve hours go by and I'm still in my pajamas.

"Alejandro, I don't care about good writing. I care about page views."

What is this place? It's myopia maximized. I'm writing for a Latino audience, correct? Hello?! 427 different beats crunched into a cramped 10 hours. I swear there was something about this project that involved Latinos.

Linked to Gawker again. Not, like, a hyperlink. People think the website is Gawker. Right. It's the model. I forget.

"Alejandro, it has to be GQ fused with Maxim, or maybe Esquire. But you know. Like, Latino."

No. I really don't.

Citizen 192
2005-2008 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Morning Skype Sessions: Jacob's Guitar Skills.

2008-09-21T11:48:00.000-07:00

I figure some regularity on this blog will keep me writing and keep you coming, so I've decided to start "Sunday Morning Skype Sessions." Basically, I'll have a chat with someone every Sunday (from friends to family) and record some clips I think are entertaining, powerful, and/or something you'll be intrigued by. Enjoy.

Mom and pops decided to take the kids on a weekend excursion to Sea World to, as mom put it, "have breakfast with Baby 'Shamu.'" My parents are without a doubt, and as cliche as it sounds, the greatest grandparents in the world. Not only do they enjoy the idea of spending time with their grandkids, but they have the energy and patience to deal with my two-year old nephew Jacob who is, by accounts of this video, the next Jimi Hendrix.

Jacob's Guitar Skills Over Skype from Alejandro De La Cruz on Vimeo.

He also has his own skateboard and, by some stretch of the definition, can already ollie. I'm sure I'll get that on film soon.

Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Trying To Testify In St. Paul: Rage Makes Impromptu Appearance

2008-09-05T17:04:00.000-07:00

It's been eight years since Rage Against The Machine took the stage outside of Los Angeles' Staples Center, exonerating their angst upon a clan of political dissidents, peace-lovers, anarchists, politicos, and embedding a sense in all of us that it was ok to scream, shout, yell, and exclaim a proud finger-thrust towards the institution we were so confident in.

This year, the first year Rage Against The Machine has come together since their disbandment in 2000, the Los Angeles rockers decided to take the mic again, but the police were ready for them. Electricity was cut at an impromptu concert in from of Capitol Hill in St. Paul, MN, but it didn't detour the band from taking a megaphone and preaching their "lyrical spit-fire" to a crowd ready and poised for a dose of volatility.

Citizen 192
2005-2008 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

It's Time To Change The Mood Around Here.

2008-09-02T17:54:00.000-07:00

The previous entry reads "January 27, 2008", or roughly eight months ago. This blog was created in the early dawn of 2006 in order to provide a catapult for an idealist rampaging throughout the world in order to embrace whatever idealistic tendencies were directed towards being a citizen of the world.

Then in early 2007, right before my time in Berlin, I was given an opportunity to enter the mainstream media circuit and run my own blog. Well, I'm still at the job, but am now craving the fruitful world of blogging for absolutely no money. Seriously, bonuses for quarterly page views will dissolve your soul in no time. But I need an outlet from my outlet. I need a place where only my creativity and my perspective matter. I need a place with substance, depth and reassurance.

There's a blog roll on the right that I was once really proud of. It was an homage to the other citizens of the world I embraced and they themselves embraced me for whatever reason. They've kept blogging and I neglected the site I cared so much to cultivate.

Enough: I'm back here blogging.

Last time I checked in I was writing from New York City. Today I'm in Mexico City. Hopefully I'll get some of those wonderful readers back. In the meantime, it's time to change the mood around here:

Citizen 192
2005-2008 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Scenes From New York City: Heath Ledger's Memorial

2008-01-27T13:38:00.000-08:00

Heath Ledger's Memorial: January 26th, 2008: Downtown, New York City.
I step outside the celebrity saturated walls of Los Angeles to find myself gawking at a celebrity's death.

My Fantasy Of New York City, Before The Day I Arrived

2007-11-11T10:43:00.000-08:00

There were three things that I associated with New York City before I arrived here: subways, Jazz, and Basquiat. My favorite quartet.

Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2007
All Rights Reserved.

Lending An Ear To Unity: Rock The Bells Makes The World Better

2007-08-12T15:58:00.000-07:00

It was difficult to detour festival revelers from ecstasy at this year's Rock The Bells event. There was enough great music to incite that healthy type of riot. The event left no room for pounding sun-rays, overpriced beverages, and a security team that looked more like they were out to bludgeon people instead of protecting them, to negate one love for concert-goers. As one reveler shouted while 200 or so of us bombarded the lower Orchestra, "power in numbers never fails". I smiled at her and met with my friends, eventually groovin' only feet from some of the greatest entertainers in the biz.

There was something sincerely unique that separated this festival from others. To the obvious, you would assume that a hip-hop-ian overload would suffice as an explanation. Though a major factor was definitely the legendary list of artists participating, the true sensation was the promotion: hip-hop lives and its because of you. Translation: we're a family.

It's a realm that most Rock festivals never transcend. I'm just as excited when I see a good rock show, but the ambiance doesn't compare. There's a sense of unity that persists at a Hip-Hop event. Call it a theme, but I prefer to deliver the sentiment as a status of nature, rather than simply a billboard motif. There really does seem to be a sense that something special is being shared. And with that, the venue resounded with sincere love for a culture, a music, and a vision: Represent-Respect-Recognize. Just roll it off the tongue.

Citizen 192
photo by Manzanita
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

There Is No Slowing Down: Rage Against The Machine Returns Home...Again.

2007-08-10T18:50:00.001-07:00

"Oh feel the funk blast..."

With that emphatic proclamation by Zack de la Rocha, Rage Against The Machine will once again return home to Southern California for the second time this year. I'd be completely frontin' if I declared that my anxiety and anticipation were propelled by The Roots, Mos Def, or even Public Enemy. I see them as simply a volatile bonus to the real deal.

Though Rage Against The Machine doesn't necessarily bid with as much hype as the likes of the aforementioned, hip-hop heads are still surely to receive a shock in their cerebrum. The truth of the matter is that most of these artists are advocates of rugged and raw deliverance. As Mos Def, Talib Kweli, and Cyprus Hill have proved over the years, they are a symbol of innovation and rebellion. And with that, Rock The Bells seems to have the right idea: bring together the rebels and a revolution can ensue.

I head out tomorrow morning. The recap will follow immediately. Watch out kids, the big boys are in town this weekend.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Treasure Chest: Grandma Turns 99

2007-08-06T13:42:00.000-07:00

My family celebrated the birthday of our beloved matriarch this weekend. Situated in a tight circle of cousins and nephews, we exchanged stories about our years together. Basking in the luxury of what seemed like an endless assortment of Tecates, we managed to truly splurge on the remnants of what have become family classics. The stories ranged from childhood, to our adolescent years. The layering of different generations depicted a collage of traditional similarities between my older cousins and the younger ones: we all seemed to pursue life with eccentric purpose, and a diabolical pursuit of invincibility.

Like most Latino families, los De La Cruz thrive on the saturated, descriptive ebb-and-woe of our family history. We enact the same principles you'd find at any real family gathering: direct, unabashed brute love. We finesse light humor with sensational sarcasm, exploit weakness to embrace you in a hug later, and most importantly, reinforce the reality: que somos familia.

At the end of the evening, I found myself staggering on the planks of wood of my tio's house. I made my way towards my grandmother's room and sat. She was speaking of the pueblo and throwing out phrases like mi abuelo, mi mama, mi prima. With a few simple references, I had been transported to over a hundred years of family history. And then it occurred to me that I was standing in the presence of a treasure chest of memories and time.

I asked my grandmother what she did when she was alone and everyone was at work, something that she couldn't live without. She picked up what was a half finished mantel, or tablecloth. She said she loved to knit, and I curiously asked when she had learned the craft. "It was at the age of ten when I first started to knit." My arithmetic fails me at times, but 89 years of passion for something creative almost knocked me off my seat. Simply, I'd do anything to write, photograph, and play music for almost 90 years. In fact, I think we all would.

Citizen 192
photo by Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Ticket To Ride: The Downtown Los Angeles Experience

2007-07-30T13:47:00.000-07:00

I've been spending a lot of time strolling the vacant and seemingly ghost town-esque streets that create Downtown Los Angeles. With silence usually looming over the moonlit alleyways, I consistently find myself enthralled by the lack of pedestrians, midnight revelers, and urban enthusiasts. Most of the time during my nocturnal excursions, my only company are city rats, late night metro riders, and the most frequent of residents: the homeless. In this barbarians nest, I find solace in the fact that isolation is still mainstream here.

There is a myriad of nightlife options for those willing to partake in Downtown revelry. Hospitable is hardly the term, but once visited, the midnight streets extract a vitality witnessed only in life's most volatile of births. There is a growing murmur of uncertainty as to the direction that Downtown Los Angeles forges towards, but history tells us that that yuppie's will undoubtedly take over.

With that assumption, I advise to allocate some nocturnal hours to the sensation that is currently Downtown Los Angeles. Whether saturating yourself with Puro Pop en Espanol at Mucho Wednesdays at La Cita, or catching Galavision's futbol game of the week at Bar 107, or the seemingly unlimited happy hour possibilities Los Angeles offers, take the time to stroll the seedy-sanctuary that is Downtown LA.

Bars Worth Mention:
La Cita

Bar 107

Redwood Bar

Golden Gopher

Library Bar

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

The Music That Made Me Dance

2007-05-03T12:00:00.000-07:00

Three days after Sunday's monumental Rage Against The Machine reunion, the consensus around the blogosphere and weekly music publications has been that Rage's sound was below par because of heatstroke induced sound engineers dropping the ball, and that Rage's notorious ferocity wasn't spectacular enough to sit through. I've found it intriguing that the panel of bloggers and journalists who documented the event had one extraordinary thing in common: Sunday was their first Rage Against The Machine show. I was surprised because Sunday was something beyond another concert to me. The event was a direct confrontation with my youth, my idealism, and my own entangled ferocity. It was a hyped up gathering with old friends, old ideals, and old memories. It was a chance to reunite with the greatest time of my life. Simply, Sunday would be my 9th Rage Against The Machine show, and I knew exactly what to expect.

There was a moment on Sunday afternoon that sent a jolt of exhileration and anxiety through my gut. I suddenly wondered if I could muster enough strength to withstand a mosh pit. I hadn't questioned the idea before because the answer was obvious: yes! Or so I thought. I mused upon the idea that I couldn't make it through the set because quite frankly, it had been seven years. I was physically prepared, but because my idealism had sunken to the state of sea-level, I felt my demise would be my lack of dedication.

From October 1999-September 2000, I saw Rage Against the Machine 8 times. One of my biggest regrets in that stretch was missing them at the El Rey theater. It was a secret show sponsored by KROQ, and I was MIA that evening. My buddies made it, but I fell through. I made it up when we caught the band a few months later at the Roxy, where the disbanded group At The Drive-In opened up for them, (At The Drive-In are now Sparta and The Mars Volta). I remember the only way we described the show to outsiders was to paint a portrait of "walls sweating." The intensity was always difficult to convey. The agony, claustrophobia, dehydration, exhaustion, pressing bodies, bloody awful smells, and those notorious snails, (shirtless men who have slime as sweat), were all a part of the experience; and you'd never guess that adapting to that type of environment would be beneficial, but it was.

It was June of 2000 and the Democratic National Convention was being held at the famed Staples Center, in Los Angeles, Ca. On the other side of the fence, Rage Against The Machine was scheduled to perform a free show that evening, and before you knew it, over 250,000 people had gathered to proclaim their right to say whatever the fuck was on their minds. I was one of them. Those previous shows were about to culminate into one giant "this is it" at the DNC, and it was to that night to which I traced my confidence and energy.

On Sunday at Coachella, (seven years after that historic evening in Downtown Los Angeles), I waited around for Manu Chao to finish his set. I waited for that backdrop of resistance that we'd grown to admire to rise from the ashes. And I stood there in disbelief that the band who had installed motivation in a young, distracted, and insecure individual, would finally set foot on stage again. That band had prompted the evolution of my individuality, identity, and devotion to learning. Not only did I take sanctuary in books because of them, I began to formulate my own ideals, I learned to fight with my words instead of my fists, and I consciously began to infiltrate the secrets of resistance. If it wasn't for Rage Against The Machine, and those wonderful revolutionaries I grew to know and admire, then I might not be the man that I am today. It had been seven years since I'd seen some of the radicals I ran into on Sunday at Coachella. Joe's hair had adopted a salt & pepper nobility, David's dreads had become as vibrant and radical as the politics of "his" band, and "little Chris" was a grown man now. More than anything, I realized that these people were undeniably a part of my life. They'd become a part of my existence. And we were all there to indulge in "our" band.

Upon entering the pit Sunday evening, I knew it would be a struggle to survive. I knew the raucous awaiting me was far from what I'd experienced before. I knew I had the experience. More than anything, I realized that I belonged there. Like I told my friend, "I felt like I was home." A Rage pit was right where I needed to be. And to all of those who assumed disdain for that "poor" sound you heard within the first three songs, I can only suggest that you loiter around the real fans next time. We managed to maintain our position, near the rails, near the veins, near the fists that scorched the desert sky. We were right where every fan should have been, and the sound was as powerful as I'd ever heard it.

Come On Feel The Rage [LAWeekly]
Rage Against The Machine Reunites [CNN]

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
First photo by Getty Images
Other photos by Citizen 192 [circa 1999, 2000, 2007]
All Rights Reserved.

A Coachella Experience: Saturday

2007-05-01T11:33:00.000-07:00

It's taken me a few days to digest the events from this past weekend. Strange days followed the Coachella Festival this year. I was completely flattened by the strain of enduring three days of desert heat, adrenaline, and noontime Stellas. I'm not sure how to characterize the experience, but a description of sensory overload sounds justified. Quite frankly, I was exhausted beyond repair after Rage Against The Machine's set Sunday evening.

Though Sunday evening was projected as the culmination of all things great, I wasn't about to disregard the vibrant line-up that was scheduled for Saturday. I had stated earlier that "Saturday would be the greatest challenge" because of all the great bands playing: Hot Chip, Kings Of Leon, Peter Bjorn & John, The Decemberists, The Arcade Fire, LCD Soundsystem, RHCP. It was almost too much to engage in because where would I find time to eat? Where would I find time to meet the randoms (this year's Coachella was just a surplus of fabulous people)? When would I indulge in an overpriced Heineken at the beer gardens? How many polaroids could I take throughout the day without stopping by a tent and losing myself in a steady snare hit or riff? These were all crucial elements to be improvised throughout the day, clearly for the sake of creating the greatest experience possible.

What ended up happening was a thorough rendezvous with a desert landscape that was partially excruciating and mesmerizing. The night before, I had encountered the silouhette of a mountainous terrain behind Julieta Venegas, and Saturday it was no different, (since the majority of the bands I wanted to see were shaded under the Gobi, Mojave, or Savanah tents). Hot Chip, PB&J, Yeva, The Fratellis, and The Cribs were all a delight underneath sufficient shade. Being plastered up against a bikini clad seductress and grooving "Over and Over" via Hot Chip was beyond extravegant. Simultaneously, I was being enamored by a delightful Coachella patron who was enthusiastic about every gig I wanted to catch: Coachella romance is fabulous.

Yet, the highlight of the event would come under moonlit skies. The Arcade Fire was scheduled to perform before RHCP & Dj Tiesto, and there was no way that I would miss it. The top priority this year was Rage Against The Machine, but the adrenaline rush began when those lovely Canadiens took to the stage. The crowd was flooded with delicate melodies and rambunctious lyrical escapades. The night sky lit up with a sensational rhapsody comprised of solarized angst and orgasmic harmony. You couldn't negate the happiness that echoed throughout the crowd during the Arcade Fire's set. During "Wake Up, off of their album 'Funeral, the crowd exposed a refined elation that I'd never encountered before. Raised arms and echoes of their monumental chorus could be heard as far as Los Angeles' city limits. For a moment, the explosion of joy I felt suddenly turned to sincere nervousness. The elation I had felt had spawned into a mixture of anxiety and wild-eyed fantasy. In less than 24 hours I would be reunited with them...

to be continued

Coachella Saturday [LAWeekly]
A Lot More Coachella News [Brooklyn Vegan]
Coachella's first two days a rollicking rock-dance party [LATimes]

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Live From The Greatest Music Event In The World

2007-04-28T08:19:00.000-07:00

Coachella Valley Music & Art Festival has been the epitome of priority for many revelers in the past few months. The anguish of wondering how to cope with dreadful heat, bouts of claustrophobia, and having to prioritize what hot band will be the catch of the weekend mounts to providing a substantial stretch of the nerves.

However, yesterday's first day at the festival proved to be quite a comfortable experience. If you don't equate comfortable with obviously dealing with stench-ified Andy Gumps, $2 water, and conflicting band schedules, then this festival had the elements of a five-star hotel experience.

Friday concert goers were surprised with less than harsh heat, enthusiastic bands, and if you arrived early enough, a catch at seeing one of Los Angeles most prized sons, Mr. Perry Ferrell. Yet, the catch of the day was the sensational Julieta Venegas. The Mexican singer songwriter, (and guapa extraordinaire), unleashed a fantastic set comprised of pop hits that had the best fans at the festival joyously sprouting to the top of one of Coachella's numerous stages, the Gobi tent. I wasn't surprised by the great sound of Julieta. The minimal encounter I've had with her music has always been a positive, but I have yet to immerse myself in a full album. I'm sure that will change as soon as I rock an Amoeba binge when I get back home.

In total, Day 1 comprised of some London punk provided by The Noisettes; a disappointing encounter with Tokyo Police Club; a proud engagement with Silversun Pickups; lounge sessions with The Jesus and Mary Chain, Of Montreal, and Stephen Marley; and of course, a fabulous rendezvous with Interpol and the Icelandic queen Bjork. Not a bad first day, but I hardly "cut a rug". I have Hot Chip, Peter Bjorn & John, The Arcade Fire, The Decemberists, and LCD Soundsystem to provide the backdrop for some serious movement today. If I have enough energy towards the end of the evening, the Rapture might catch a glimpse of my moves as well. Day 2 commences in three hours.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

The Broken West @ Spaceland

2007-04-18T14:03:00.000-07:00

Tuesday evenings in Los Angeles were usually relegated to Cinespace debauchery. Last night I took a detour down Sunset towards Silverlake. It was Spaceland's welcome home for The Broken West: a Los Angeles band that blends Beach Boy flair with country pop. I decided to check them out because they are scheduled to open for The National on May 28th at the Bowery Ballroom in New York City, and logically I thought they'd give me a preemptive strike of some great music. I was wrong. Without further ado, I was thoroughly disappointed. All three bands, including last night's headliner, bored me enough to make me quit drinking. If The National took the theory of booking a mediocre band before their set, in order to amaze their audience that has been bludgeoned to death by noise, then they have a great band opening up for them. Too bad I think The National are too kind to employ such a deviant plan.

The National: Five Nights At Bowery Sold Out [Brooklyn Vegan]

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

There Will Be No Shelter Here

2007-04-17T20:03:00.000-07:00

If you were waiting for the Rage Against The Machine festivites to begin on April 29th in Indio, Califas, then you were mistaken my friends. Zack and Tom took to the stage at the Coalition of Immakalee Workers rally in Chicago Saturday evening and performed a few of their most beloved anthems. The duo ignited the crowd with acoustic versions of Bulls On Parade and People Of The Sun [cue intense excitement], providing a little taste of what is only 12 days away.

I'm really not sure if there is much more news that I can bare at the moment. There are rumors floating throughout Los Angeles streets that a "secret" show will be held somewhere in Hollywood before the Coachella Festival kicks off. I'm no one to fan the flames, but I remember the days preceeding the infamous breakup, when Zack and the crew rocked a few "secret" shows, most notably at the Roxy [June 99'], and how those started as far-fetched rumors as well. I'm simultaneously dreading and hoping for an early morning wake up call that goes along the lines of "Wake up and get in line @ [blank]. Rage is playing a secret show tonight..." That anxiety is simply killer, and I'm not sure I am ready for it.

Zack and Tom Together At Last [Vietnow]

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Peanut Butter Wolf Invades Getty Center

2007-04-10T16:24:00.000-07:00

If you're in the mood for some coastal star-gazing, mingling some drinks with great views, and interacting with some Indie Hip-Hop legends and world class art, then the Getty Center this Friday night will be your forte. Fridays Off the 405, a Getty Center event, will be relieving the strenuous commutes of those willing to unwind via legendary DJ Peanut Butter Wolf's scintilating grooves. The event, co-sponsored by KCRW, delights in welding live music, art, and the aesthetics of nightlife chic into a socialites perfect evening. The event is free of charge (parking is $7 payable in cash only), with no reservations necessary.

Fridays Off the 405 [Getty]

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Joao Canziani
All Rights Reserved.

Rockin' The Full Circle Without Regrets

2007-04-08T23:51:00.000-07:00

I head home to Los Angeles in minus six hours. I'm excited, anxious, and nervous. I'm excited to see the homies, anxious to maintain (and see if I can) this rhythm that I've refined over the last two months, and I'm nervous to gaze too far into the future. This will be my 8th flight in two months. Somehow I find the mental and material preparations for flight peculiarly exciting. I'm not sleeping this evening for fear of over-sleeping. Maybe it's better I maintain full reality and drop the fantasy. I usually live better with my feet grounded; except when I fly.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Lee Jaffe & Jean Michel: Los Angeles, 1983

2007-04-06T14:53:00.000-07:00

Rummaging through feeds and I come to find that my boy Basquiat will be the focus of a photo exhibit @ the Shooting Gallery in Hollywood. Lee Jaffe, artist, documenter extraordinaire, and friend of some of the coolest people to ever walk this earth, ended up befriending a young Jean-Michel in 1983, allowing for an intimate glance at the rising star of the early and mid 80’s.

The exhibit runs through April 28th so don’t procrastinate, you hoodlums.
Information On The Shooting Gallery

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Lee Jaffe
All Rights Reserved.

Missing In Action: Coming Home Addition

2007-04-05T17:08:00.000-07:00

To the Citoyen faithful:

I apologize for being MIA the last few days. Yes, I know, the world hasn’t ceased from churning out magnificent headlines, stories, and who-would-of-thoughts, but I’ve been marinating in New York City chaos for the last three weeks and I am finally departing home (temporarily) for much needed r&r. That means latte’s at noon, salteado de camarones for dinner, and some Stella’s and debauchery with my boy Knapp’s on the eastside. Sons of Them has been at a loss because their biggest fan is out trying to revolutionize guerrilla-journalism, so I'll be joining their 5k team when I get back. And I’m sure my family wants to know what the hell I have been spending my money on, (I’m sure they want proof I “found” a job in New York City as well).

I’ve been preoccupied with the latest sports headlines such as the MLS start and their forthcoming “baby Beck’s”: the new Chicago Fire addition of Temoc: Germany’s regulation of the doner industry (you know I’d be all over this story!): and Jamaican coffee shops in Madrid.

I’ve added some much needed fresh reading with Brooklyn Vegan, DeadSpin, and The Voice. But don’t worry, I haven’t gone all East Coast on you. El-Oso, Loteria Chicana, Metroblogging, and LAWeekly are still daily hits.

Yo Cindy, don’t think I forgot about ya! This is my new homie. She kicks ass. You should read her blog. Abrazos.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

James Nachtwey: “The Sacrifice"

2007-03-30T21:26:00.000-07:00

The current state of affairs in Iraq revolve around whether we should proceed to enrage an already unstable region, or clamor down on our own misguided precedence and disband from the hostile rocket flair that we’ve created. Critics proclaim that civil war is underway, and others dismiss the critique. Amidst the deafening battle cries and ravenous ferociousness of war, there is a photographer who attempts to explicitly depict the harsh reality of IED’s, ambushes, and death.

James Nachtwey, the illustrious war photographer, and his work are being showcased at a small gallery in the West Village. “The Sacrifice”, a tribute to injured and fallen American soldiers, as well as Iraqi civilians, is comprised of 21 photographs, ranging from the beginning of injury, the gruesome environment of hospital surgery, the hardship of rehabilitation, and the inevitable conformity of living with the remnants of war. Nachtwey distributes his talents in a way that captures the brutality of battle, yet offers condolences to those injured and fallen by illuminating the explicit cruelty that is constantly hidden in mainstream media. Nachtwey’s persistent cause to enlightening the unseen inspires recognition of the horrors those soldiers in battle face everyday. If you’re feeling jaded by the stories of party politics, misguided government officials, and overzealous and pretentious insurgents, just look towards Nachtwey’s photographs to bring you to that level of humanity that we’re all governed by. Take a moment, listen, and feel.

James Nachtwey’s “The Sacrifice” can bee seen now until April 24, 2007, at 401 Projects (401 West St @ Charles St: West Village). (212) 633-6202

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
V-Cast phone
All Rights Reserved.

Los Angeles Spits Fire

2007-03-30T18:19:00.000-07:00

I’ve made some people cringe as to my current relocation process. Los Angeles in particular almost torched itself to death, as a brush fire tap danced its way near “our” glorious icon: the Hollywood sign. I’ll admit that there was an immediate conflict in my gut when my friend Sarah tipped me off this afternoon during our Gmail chat. I didn’t know whether to shrug with indifference, or panic at the thought of losing one of Los Angeles’ most iconic symbols.

My sentimental side towards my beloved City of Angels was thawed in mere seconds, and it was all due to a monument that is both revered and spited by us Angelenos. The Hollywood sign is more than iconic for us. Throughout decades, it’s been the only formidable symbol and reason that people visit our great city. I’ve always been critical of this because our cultural “melting pot” should be on the forefront of reasons why people visit. Next I would assume that our artistic progression and insatiable hunger to strive gastronomically, as well as fashionably would be the next few, but monumental reasons why someone would want to visit Los Angeles. Unfortunately, that’s never the case. People want Disneyland, (which isn’t even in LA County), and “Hollywood”, used more as an adjective than a noun, and the Malibu experience. They also wish to be the next great reality TV star. That stings where it hurts the most for a guy who was born and raised in the city limits.

To add a little limon y sal on the wounds, the two miscreants who started the blaze were “Two teenage males from Illinois.” Hey “Prairie State”, keep these kids in the yard or else I’ll have to start throwing cheap shots by rummaging through the Capone and Cubs files. You've been warned.

More on the LA fire, click here.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo from Los Angeles Times user Deposee.
All Rights Reserved.

Mr. Maradona

2007-03-30T16:48:00.000-07:00

The rambunctious Argentine futbol legend, Diego Maradona, was reported to be undergoing treatment at a Buenos Aires hospital to curb alcoholic cravings this week. The 46 year-old World-Cup winner was admitted to a hospital after reportedly reenacting his infamous “hand of God” goal in the basement of a brothel in downtown Buenos Aires, leaving English tourists at the brothel withering in shame and torture as they had to relive one of football’s most notorious moments. That statement is as legitimate and true as that goal Maradona scored against England.

Hey Diego boy, cheer up a bit. Maybe when you get your life in order, you’ll be named player of the century and be sought after by Hollywood, and have the world praise you like some demigod. Oh wait Pele already solidified that role. You’ll have to settle for defunct has been that careens through cocaine hoards and alcohol binges like he did those five England defenders in 1986. Remember those glory days Diego?

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo from wikipedia.
All Rights Reserved.

Photo Of The Day

2007-03-28T17:52:00.000-07:00

It was a sweet 65 degrees today in New York City and people were indulging in the succulent mixture of delightful sun and crisp air.
Union Square: Manhattan, New York.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Vino Copper Anyone?

2007-03-28T15:02:00.000-07:00

Have you ever enviably listened to a wine connoisseur rant about the oaks, various fruits, and infinite fragrances that rumble through their olfactory receptors, questioned the authenticity of their pompous and superfluous explanations, or merely been bewildered and simultaneously amazed by their grand talent to excavate the most concealed aroma in a bottle of Pinot Noir? Maybe you should reconsider their validity and actually praise them for screening what was actually hidden, and premeditatedly kept from us consumers.

The Los Angeles Times reported on a plan by Federal regulators to list the detailed ingredients of wine on all labels and bottles. Upon approval, the statute would clearly identify all ingredients in a wine: metals, dairy products, and meat products to name a few. What was once shrouded in mystery would soon be unleashed upon our senses in a way that would leave us wondering if fermented sweat sock vodka is arguably more disgusting than knowingly consuming dairy, fish, purple food coloring, and copper in our wine. Viticulturalists have united to say that the inclusion of these ingredients, for certain products, is not only viable, but a necessary tactic. I think it’s a cop out for the “less we know the better” excuse we so often hear as consumers. I wonder what’s really hovering around in those bottles of two buck Chuck.

For more on this, click here.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Photo Of The Day

2007-03-27T22:31:00.000-07:00

Inspired by the intensity I witnessed on the pitch Sunday afternoon in Flushing Meadows, Queens.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Dodgers Seek "Division" Title: 104 Different Prices To Choose From.

2007-03-27T09:13:00.000-07:00

I remember when it was so easy to splurge on that $27 box seat ticket, grab a row N-Q seat down the third base line, and hope that you’d benefit from the lovely night crowd, maybe see a random scuffle in the stands, and chow down that lusciously addictive Dodger dog with a nice cold beer. I remember when game day seats were the same price as online sales or advance sales. I remember when you were on a budget and wanted to catch a game, the $14 “orange”, or Lodge seats, were the best bargain. You were always in foul ball territory and you had a perfect view of the grand stadium.

Now, I’m not sure what the hell to choose from. The color content and division of the stadium has left me mystified and brutally perplexed. I hear Dodger Stadium is going to implement a 104 different price varieties stratum in order to provide adequate and sustainable choice for its consumer. As the Dodger’s chief operating officer was quoted as saying in the Los Angeles Times, "We're trying to offer multiple options for our fans." Thanks buddy, but I was keen on those 5-7 options I had about five years ago. Oh, and my team hasn’t won a pennant in 19 years so I don’t know where you come off hiking my prices.

I think slicing and dicing those seats provides me with ample fuel for a “return to O’Malley’s” way of Dodger life. At least we could win playoff games with them. At least I could stumble onto the ballpark and purchase a ticket with a clear idea of where I would be sitting. Now, it’s probably easier to take the 5 South on a Thursday afternoon at 5:30pm than actually get a ticket at the lovely blue shacks behind Left-center field. Nostalgia is horrendous at 12:10 in the afternoon. Hershiser, please save us.

For more on the Dodger’s pricing hikes, click here.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo from MLB.com
All Rights Reserved.

Follow Up: Eric Volz On The Today Show

2007-03-26T14:19:00.000-07:00

National media outlets are finally picking up on the story of 27 year old Eric Volz, the American publisher who was found guilty of a terrible murder in Nicaragua, but has vehemently denied that he was anywhere near the scene or the city where the murders took place. Many eye-witnesses have proclaimed that they could, and can vouch for Volz’s whereabouts on that day, yet Eric still sits in a jail cell, five weeks after being sentenced to thirty years in prison.

Click here for the Today Show’s report on his situation.

His story was also featured in the front page of the Wall Street Jouranl on Monday, March 19th.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo taken from Eric Volz myspace page.
All Rights Reserved.

Rock The Bells Releases Lineup

2007-03-26T13:31:00.000-07:00

Rock The Bells released their much-anticipated lineup for their tour this year. Rage Against The Machine and Wu-Tang Clan were already scheduled, but the addition of The Roots, Nas, EPMD, Mos Def, and a special appearance by legendary renegades Public Enemy will surely be a delight for hip-hop heads. The inclusion of Cypress Hill will also be a highlight.

I’m anticipating a quick sell out for these three shows, and you should too. The last time I saw Cypress Hill on the same stage as RATM, the latter band inevitably broke up. I want to see chapter two in the history of RATM so I hope this case will be different.

Tickets for this event go on sale March 31, 2007.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

I Found My Queen And She Plays Futbol

2007-03-26T13:06:00.000-07:00

I’ve got a few buddies in Los Angeles ragging on me for not “keeping fit” on my travels. My futbol-esque physique has taken a jelly-ing, so I’m looking to my beloved soccer to reinvigorate my vitality, passion driven obsession. I took a nice field trip towards Flushing Meadows in Queens yesterday, and stumbled upon some serious futbol action. The action was hardly dramatic or impressive, but it was inspiring. If you’re looking for some serious pick up games, or you just want to saturate yourself in some serious Sunday soccer leagues, Flushing Meadows is the way to go.

Also, keep an eye out for the bicycle lady with chicken, beef, and cheese empanadas. Her coffee is delicious, and at $1 empanadas, you really can’t beat the hearty street snack. The green salsa she rocks is amazing too. Pile it on futboleros!

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Eric Volz

2007-03-22T07:58:00.000-07:00

I believe in justice. Please take the time to watch this video and send your comments to www.friendsofericvolz.com
Or become a supporter here.

For free Wall Street Journal Article about Eric Volz click here.

Information to call or write your Senator and Congresspersons.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Mexican Food In New York City

2007-03-21T08:05:00.000-07:00

“If you add jalapeños to the produce department, it doesn’t become a Hispanic store.” If you live in, or around Colorado, you'll be happy with the above article.

As for me, I'm on the verge of almost depriving my taste buds of authentic Mexican food for nearly two months. I’ve set out to emancipate my despair by searching for some deliciously rich enchiladas, or camarones al mojo de ajo that won’t taste like aluminum canned madness.

The two places I’ve set out towards in New York City, Café Habana in Nolita and Bonita in Williamsburg, were both good, but not exactly convincing me that I should place a prestigious stamp of approval on their menu. I can’t negate that the food at both establishments was delicious, but I'm only 7 days deep into the Cuban-Mexican eatery idea. The burrito I had at Café Habana was delicious, but it was more like a chicken lettuce wrap found at a sandwich shop. There were some serious ingredients missing in the mix: arroz (rice), avocado, sour cream, and a little salsa of any kind would have been nice.

My torta at Bonita was on par, but when I order a side of rice and beans and you supply some steamy white rice and black beans, my heart plunges. It’s good stuff, but I’m Mexican vato. Yellow rice and pinto beans, or nada! I know your intentions were good Bonita, but a specification before I order the $4 side dish would be nice. Not to mention the fact that I was almost liquefied to death with Bonita’s ridiculously potent salsa. We like it hot, but blisters aren’t necessary, (I have witnesses to prove that it was beyond excruciating to eat).

I know my gastronomical adventures will have better luck with Cuban, Peruvian, Jamaican, and Puerto Rican food here in the city. But I hope to find some savory chiles rellenos, or tamales that would make mama proud, (Trader Joe's prepackaged tamales are tempting). “Remember, this isn’t LA Mexican food…” she said. Where’s my Taqueria Los Tres Hermanos! No panic folks, I know NYC won’t let me down.

More Cafe Habana.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo from yelp.com
All Rights Reserved.

New Music Tuesday: J Dilla

2007-03-20T16:06:00.000-07:00

New music Tuesday is a day that has been marked in my calendar for years. I always look forward to what the new hot slice of melodic silk on its way to store shelves and digital stomping grounds will be? And today is no different.

There is a formidable shake-up in the hip-hop community with El-P’s newest creation, I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead. However, I’ve got my sights set on the Stones Throw reissue of J Dilla’s The Ruff Draft, which was an exclusive all-vinyl creation. Rockin’ that on an ipod these days will entice some much needed movement in the streets. It is always a treat to hear Dilla through my plugs.

For more info on today’s releases and future releases click here

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Photo Of The Day

2007-03-20T13:09:00.000-07:00

I came across this brilliant setup heading towards Bedford St in Williamsburg. The pink trash bin emphatically proclaims that it's just too damn sexy to litter around here. Move me with your comments lovers.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Fujiya & Miyagi @ Columbia University

2007-03-20T08:32:00.000-07:00

I checked out Fujiya & Miyagi last night at Columbia University. They are a new Disco-tronica group from Brighton, England, (relatively new in commercial talk; their first album was released in 2002 by Massive Advance Records). The sound system was glum, (damn college auditoriums!), the set was great, and the setting I could have done without. College auditorium shows aren’t my forte anymore. A clear and concise synopsis of this trio would be to say that they will make you dance. The rhythms are bursting, the progression is minimal, and the lyrics are effectively monotonous; making for some ideal conditions to lace up the kicks and succumb to a disco trance.

The trio, dressed in complete Puma gear, managed to create a sincere ripple effect with enough push to create an authentic kaleidoscope of revelers and dancers. I even took the liberty to grind up against some pizza boxes that were stacked by the loudspeaker I was near. Don't expect to see any Steve Ray solo guitar magic, or Iggy Pop stage antics, these guys are a bit timid, but they grooves are plenty nice.

The group is scheduled to rock the Mercury Lounge tonight, but sorry kids, the show is sold out. It’s their last gig before they head back to Europe. I'm sure with they'll be back soon. The kids at Columbia made them feel loved.

Listen

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Airbus A380: Behemoth!

2007-03-19T07:36:00.001-07:00

Flights will now be carrying entire villages from small town to big town in one giant sweep when the Airbus A380 takes over internationally. The inaugural US flights are scheduled for 9:30am PST, simultaneously landing at JFK & LAX. There seems to be a buzz that aviation history will be made today. I'm simply charged at the idea of gathering 555 (total capacity of an Airbus), random Myspace friends and taking a trans-Atlantic flight to Europa. Or, being able to climb stairs in an airplane would be cool too. If you're in or around LAX or JFK, I'd muster some patience and rock your way to a security lined fence to catch the landing.

Seriously though, how does this mammoth get off the ground?

Peep the video of the Airbus A380 construction below:

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

I Like Pictures Of My Face

2007-03-18T20:51:00.000-07:00

I've been peepin' Noah K's photo stream on flickr for the last half year. His style is sharp, bold, and recognizable. I found out he lives in Williamsburg, and since I'm in Brooklyn now, I'm wondering if he'll let me step into his studio and pose in one of his hip self portraits. Hey Noah, what do ya say?

He was a feature today in the NYTimes Art & Design section. The basic perimeter of discussion revolves around whether his 2,356 self portraits are substantial enough for high-brow artistic discussion. Of course it's art. It would be a shock to negate that the epitome of art isn't a refined form of narcissism. Sorry Lukacs-ians, all art doesn't have to subside towards some socialist propaganda. Check out the New York Times article here

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo from The New York Times Company
All Rights Reserved.

Power Of Proximity

2007-03-18T09:38:00.000-07:00

Along my travels I’ve discovered one amazing contrast between where I come from and the places I’ve visited: proximity. There is a profound enrichment of appreciation for survival and adaptability when you see people living in close proximity. Distance has always been a factor in my upbringing in Los Angeles, and slowly the iron shields of anonymity are collapsing; and it’s all due to proximity.

Most places I’ve been to in the last month allow you to go from one side of the city to the other with ease and precision. Proximity in New York City is sincerely mesmerizing. To put it bluntly, the poor man and the rich man, though strangers in the street, still walk along the same route on a consistent basis. They ride the same metro, visit the same parks, and indulge in the same corner hot dog stand. They tread through the same snow, withstand the same depleting temperatures, and deal with the same pummeling sleet. I understand they will never live the same lives and I’m in no hurry to deliver the contrasts of their economic endurance; but on a fundamental musing on proximity, I have to say that envy has bludgeoned me because in Los Angeles, we don’t adhere to this style of living. Distance is the name of the game there, and the rest of the world, from Paris, Berlin, Madrid, to New York City, has penetrated a livelihood that is more fecund and volatile: making for a sincere portrait of humanity trying to co-exist.

Coming from Los Angeles, I've never experienced snow on city streets. It's always been a distant, out of reach experience. You go to the snow in the mountains in LA. You see them from miles and miles away on mile high snow capped slopes. But here, I've been able to experience the toughness of getting around these streets when there is a chill and your feet are all wet. I’ve always correlated my irritations with Los Angeles, with the fundamental fact that Los Angeles never has to endure harsh weather. We simply live in the confines of “paradise”: sitting cheery, settled, and content.

Yet in New York City, in a mere 4 days, I’ve already encountered the harsh obstruction of irritable weather. Even in a snowball fight without gloves, you feel the tinge of pain after a few iced pellets in the hand. It’s all fun and games, but it comes with a miniscule price of temporary pain. And that’s the basic understanding of life, isn’t it? A little work, a little fun, but a little pain as well. Makes everything real. It's just another example of the resilience of this city. I think Los Angeles, with it's fun fanfare and entertainment Mecca stamp, needs to understand that proximity is valuable.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Flatbush Crisp: Brooklyn

2007-03-16T13:57:00.000-07:00

It's a tantalizingly crisp 25 degrees in Brooklyn today, and I'm venturing out for the first stroll of the day. My guides here in New York City have notified me that the museums will be a delight today because both the MoMa and Guggenheim are free after 4pm and 5pm, and most New Yorkers will not venture out towards the aching cellar that is awaiting them outside of their homes. That leaves me with hope that I'll find empty corridors, and be able to peacefully indulge in Picasso and El Greco for free, or the illustrious "Luminati" Jeff Wall.

It also means I can appropriately introduce myself to New York "chill". With an Angeleno, warm-blooded, I bring out the scarves at 66 degrees upbringing, I think this is a challenge I'm not looking forward too; but hell, bring it on!

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen dy Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Hostel Review: Isaac's Hostel In Dublin

2007-03-15T05:45:00.000-07:00

“Disclaimer: WATCH YOUR BAG!”

Immediately, anxiety filters into my veins when I read something like that. All I can think of are crazy, color coated alerts of terror, and bunkers that can store people for 40 days. Yet, that was my first encounter at Isaac’s Hostel. Security warnings are everywhere here in this deluxe “tourists” hostel, (which is proudly proclaimed on their marquee outside). Highly publicized warnings of “purse-snatchers” and “please report anyone that looks suspicious” make up a significant amount of the wall decor at this establishment.

However, I was exhausted from an overall sleepless evening on my last night in Berlin: (thanks Johnnie, Yolanda, Tiffany, Alex, & Craig), so I wasn’t too confident in toting my oversized maleta all around Dublin. At first glance, the hostel seems like a valuable gathering place. The café adjacent to the hostel lobby fills the room with lovely scents of Butternut Squash, quiche, and tea. Their menu’s variety is not only impressive, but the price is the best offer. Since Dublin boasts quite a costly cost of living, the 2,95 soup to go is a bargain.

Once I got to the reception desk, the frantic antics of the receptionist were both amusing and disenchanting. I’m so accustomed to the mild mannered, soft spoken know it alls that hostel workers can be. From Hostel Alessandro in 2002 to Circus Hostel in 2007, the initial ambiance that one receives is created by the first person you actually meet and greet at your soon to be home for a day. However, I became somewhat disillusioned by the constant “hold on one second man, just hold on…” I’m hardly ever hurried and this time proved the same. Instead, I patiently waited and asked for a bed. What they had available was a 16 bed dorm. My limit is usually 12, and that should be your limit too. I took it because this being my last stint of my trip, I decided against my common process.

The rooms at this joint run a bit drab. The crumbling blue walls and broken electrical plugs are a turn off. The rooms are sterile, glum, and lack any thing assimilated to the definition of vibrant. The overall feel of this place is a bit disappointing. From non-wireless capabilities to the rather cold staff, Isaac’s Hostel is a far cry from award-worthy, (the adjacent walls to the hostel reception desk are aligned with “Hostelworld.com” awards). From 2 euro 30 minute interval use of their Internet access, and “No drinking alcoholic beverages after 11pm”, the hostel’s stringent rules and policies are probably necessary, but it’s a shame.

However, there are some positives. The hostel boasts a spacious and efficient kitchen for those travelers ready to rock their own version of spaghetti bolognese. They do have a soda machine that contends against the cheaper grocery stores that sell their cokes for about 1 euro. They also have that delightful café directly adjacent to them, which thankfully serves up some good baguettes, soups, and scones, plus much more. Their location is also a treat. At only 15 minutes walking distance to places like Temple Bar, Trinity College, and Carlisle Bridge, Isaac’s location is premier stuff.

At a going rate of 16 euro for a bed in a 16-person dorm, what may seem like a bargain may turn out to be a consequential regret. Kind of the same feeling I have about Dublin.

Isaac’s Hostel is located 2-5 Frenchman’s Lane, Dublin 1. Reception staff is available 24 hours a day. For more information visit www.isaacs.ie

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

LAMIAK: La Latina, Madrid

2007-03-11T04:07:00.000-07:00

Wandering through the streets of Madrid’s fermented barrio of “La Latina”, I was seductively provoked by a fascinating café. From the streets, I caught a glimpse of haunting photography on walls, contrasted with the sounds of the Caribbean. The clientele looked to be having a great time, so I entered into what I came to find is “Lamiak”.

Situated in the heart of the aged side of Madrid, Lamiak café & bar stands as a monument to artistically hip and historically cool. Upon entering the brightly lit joint, (which I have peculiarly found as an interesting contrast to the dimly lit candle flair that is Berlin), Lamiak establishes itself as a rarity with its modern photography exhibitions (changing monthly), their delightful pintxuos (snack-like oeuvre dors), and their diverse music selection.

The simple, old world chic wooden tables and chairs, elongated and illustrious wooden banisters, and their mustard brilliant walls, invite a mood entrenched in fascination, contrast, and charisma.

The daily menu (menu del dia) consists of a variety of combinations that involve a 1st, 2nd, 3rd dish, desert, and a beverage for 15 euro. The offer should hardly be overlooked. However, if the budget is a problem, and you’re not that hungry, Lamiak has selections for you as well. Lamiak has a delicious variety of “pintxuos”, or appetizers that range from “pulgitas” (mini-bocadillos), to “tostas” topped with roast beef and mustard to “gambas al ajillo” (shrimp sautéed in garlic sauce). At 1,60 euro each, the bargain is obvious.

The common theme in Spain confers in eating well and drinking well. At Lamiak, an inviting atmosphere, a colorful and gratiuitous waitstaff (watch out for the “chupito” [shots] invitation), and a bargain of a price (1,20 canas & 1,70 copitas de vino), Lamiak should be declared one of the top 10 bars in Madrid. If pure charm is noted, Lamiak stands alone.

Lamiak is located at 42 Caja Baja, Madrid. Open daily from 8am-2:30am, with an additional downstairs bar open from Thursday to Saturday.

Adjacent hot spots you might enjoy:
El Viajero Restaurant & Bar: Lanzarote 26, La Latina, Madrid Spain

Further exploration:
La Peonza Restaurant: Caja Baja
Bam Bamala Soul Cafe: La Latina

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

From Berlin to Coria? Contrast In Motion

2007-03-05T05:08:00.000-08:00

Imagine you´re in a wild eyed affair with a city. The whimsical air of a cold morning, leaving you entrenched in a dew that is both refreshing and brutal each and everyday. Imagine yourself covered in renewal, whilst lusting for an undetermined elixir that a new city is provoking to saturate you with. Imagine that you´re in a Las Vegas hotel: bright lights, a distance between day and night, and a constant fury of dazzling spectacle and sincere debauchery.

Then, in an instant, you´re trasmitted to a world gazing at the old. An ancient world that forbids you to negate the serene resonance of a time before. Imagine that the sensory overload you experienced becomes an illusion of time and space, and the time you have spent in the grips of intensity have slowed enough, to allow a marveling of antiquity. That same assimilation that makes you divulge your deepest desires and your most intimate sin, converts to a calm, tranquil, and meloncholic trance. You begin to flirt with a space that propels a vibrant light that consists of warmth, stability, and sincerity. Imagine yourself going from big city Berlin to 12,000 inhabited Coria, Spain. That was my journey last week.

I boarded a flight to Madrid with the intention of meeting some friends and reconnecting with a city I dearly love. I intended to stay a few days and take advantage of the second language I have. I decided, at last moments, to endure another 4 1/2 hour journey to the eastern city of Coria, located in Extremadura. Situated in the quite landscape of Extremadura, the town boasts a zona antigua that is fascinating. Confined to the modernity that is Berlin: a modernity that is vivacious as it is distinct, I decided to explore a terrain with the purpose of directly juxtaposing to new and random locations. Coria, Spain is a complete contrast to the urban explosion in Berlin. Coria evokes a solemn enchantment: a charismatic portrait of a time lingering amidst stunning green pastures. It is a town on the outskirts of modernity, but still robust in history, culture, and identity.

A concise verse: my senses are in a heightened state of arousal because of this contrast. I hope to refine my palette in order to maintain the savory treats my travels have bestowed upon me. Next stop? Madrid. Further, NYC. After that I could give a...

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Me Voy A Madrid

2007-02-27T13:47:00.000-08:00

Tapas. Flamenco. La Marcha.

I'll be in Madrid for a few days. The laptop is staying home. Notebooks and recorder will be all I have to transcribe events. I'm mesmerized by the fact that the above shot was taken five years ago, and yet I still feel the sensations as they were yesterday. Stay tuned for more.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

A Sounds Eclectic Evening

2007-02-26T12:56:00.000-08:00

Yes, the gravity inhaling pull that is Los Angeles entertainment and music Mecca is drawing me in from Berlin. Tickets to KCRW's "A Sounds Eclectic Evening", featuring the likes of The Shins, Cold War Kids, Rodrigo y Gabriela, and Bitter:Sweet, goes on sale tomorrow morning at 10am.

I'm debating whether or not to sacrifice a few lattes in New York City for a possibility at attaining a precious seat at the Gibson on April 14th. If that happens, I'll have to gradually rescind my status from "unlucky bastard" to "lucky number seven". A month full of music mayhem is all I need to keep the momentum going from my European excursion. Now let's just hope my lovely MasterCard is authorized.

For more: KCRW

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo from KCRW
All Rights Reserved.

Breaking News! Rage Against The Machine & Wu-Tang Clan To Perform

2007-02-26T03:57:00.000-08:00

The lovely peeps at GuerrillaUnion.com have reported that Rage Against The Machine will team up with Wu-Tang Clan in an unprecedented three-day tour, comprised of shows in San Bernardino (August 11-NOS Events Center), San Francisco (August 18-TBA), and New York City (July 28-Randall’s Island). The tour will be under the “Rock The Bells” anthem, “established in 2003 as a world class hip-hop platform”, the website states.

The complete line-up will be announced March 26th and tickets will go on-sale March 31st at 10:00am. For complete details and updates, log onto www.guerillaunion.com

This probably has to be the best news of the week. I’ll be bumpin’ my self-titled LP all the way to Madrid. Lawrence, I'm expecting a call soon. Los Angeles is tempting me with its overwhelming star power at the moment. Four more Rage shows in the next 6 months? That’s nothing. I’ve got about 8 under my belt, that all took place under 9 months. Take that groupies!

Also see: www.rockthebells.net, or www.myspace.com/rockthebells

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo snagged from www.guerillaunion.com
All Rights Reserved.

Prenzlauer Berg To Mitte

2007-02-26T01:44:00.001-08:00

I’ve come to find that a simple stroll from Prenzlauer Berg to Mitte has its advantages. First, you’re exposed to the vitality that is Kastanienallee. I’d read in a Berlin guide that it was where the “youth” hung out. We’ll have to explore the redefinition of “youth”, but it’s diverse cafes, thrift shops, bookstores, record stores, and quaint odds and ends shops, are enough to keep this unsustainable deficit disorder, always wanted something “new”, traveler a run for his money.

I’ve taken Kastanienallee twice now, towards Rosenthaler Platz, climaxing with an eventual rendezvous with Hackescher Market and Museum Island. It’s about a fifty-minute trek, but well worth the exploration. You’ll run into residential areas, pass through higher end cafes that look to be directed towards the semi-whimsical traveler: the half-breeds (half traveler/half tourist). If you’re lucky, you won’t have the unfortunate encounter with “The Sixties”: an ultra American swingers diner that advertises hamburgers, “60’s décor”, and that most pristine pastime, “happy hour.” Actually, most places in Berlin offer a form of “happy hour”, but seeing it advertised at this American diner, with it’s neon sign that flashes “USA”, it’s a bit distasteful for this Angeleno.

Heading towards Museum Island, I began to sense that “old world European charm” that is so obviously missing from East Berlin. There are hardly remnants of an “old world” in Prenzlauer Berg: at least in the definition inspired by Paris, Madrid, London, etc. However, towards the west you’ll the resounding elements directly allocated to “old world.” You’ll run into recently restored (and currently restored) museums, cathedrals, and other former government buildings. You’ll capture Humboldt University’s picturesque facades and come face to face with the monstrosity that is the Pergamon Museum. That fifty-minute stroll doesn’t sound too bad after all does it?

On a Sunday you’ll run into a delightful street market with an extensive collection of art, books, records, and collectible coins. You’ll have your pickings at 1,50 euro bratwurst and currywurst, and a Warsteiner to wash it down. However, bring those comfortable shoes because I hear cobblestone makes minced meat out of feet in high heels. Over and out travelers.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photos by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Hello My Name Is...

2007-02-25T14:30:00.001-08:00

Hello My Name Is...
Originally uploaded by Citoyen du Monde Inc.

I mentioned that I'd been abducted by aliens and transported to Berlin. I found one of the little miscreants @ Hackescher Market today.
Tchuss.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Brunch In Berlin

2007-02-25T01:02:00.000-08:00

It’s Sunday morning and I’m contemplating the brunch at Houdini’s, on the corner of RaumerStrasse and LychnerStrasse. It’s only 6,90. I’m not even sure I want that much food, but when in Berlin…

I’ll be in Madrid come Wednesday afternoon. The blogosphere may see a flux between turbulent graffiti to vibrant flamenco. Should be a nice juxtaposition. At least I won’t be without kebab for too long; and a little vino tinto, Reina Sofia, and tapas will be welcomed. Did I mention I’ll be in a country that’ll I’ll be able to communicate in? Yeah, that’s soothing as well.

Have a fabulous Sunday everyone.
Tchuss.

For your Sunday reading pleasure:
Jeff Wall: The Luminist

The Secret Life of Cory Kennedy

The Most Annoying Airline Habit

No Peace In The Valley

History Department Bans Citing Wikipedia As Resource

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc
All Rights Reserved.

SupaLife: The Only Way To Live

2007-02-24T07:08:00.000-08:00

I ventured towards a small, independent art store a week ago. I met the owner and politely asked if she would grant me an interview. She complied. The consequential transcript is from that interview. I want to give special thanks to Gabriele for allowing me to infilitrate her time and space in order to bring you some live and direct feed from East Berlin. My fascination with artistic progress around the world is the reason for this interview. I hope you enjoy. Here is some Supalife for all.

Me: When was the store established?

Gabriele: We started 2 ½ years ago. But we have to say that we’ve been in this space for about 7 years. We started out as an open collective and this was always the empty room where we did small exhibitions and small events.

Me: I saw outside that it stated something about being established in 1999?

Gabriele: Yeah people would work with us as well. In the back we are a “working space”, and like 2 ½ years ago we realized there were so many good people doing so much good stuff it’s hard for them to have a steady space to show stuff, so I said I wanted to put this store.

Me: How many original members were there?

Gabriele: Originally we were seven, but now it’s like, from the old group, it’s two people.

Me: So what is the intent of the store? Is there necessity to explain a purpose? In your own words.

Gabriele: Yeah, well on the one hand it’s to offer a young artist a good space; to let them be shown to the public because on the one hand we have people coming in from the street areas so there they have their certain communication; but here we try, since they do other artwork as well, to show certain artwork of these people, and I think a lot of these [artists], or a lot of their works have a kind of very high quality or very good intention of trying to say something, so I think it’s very good to have a space to show that. (laughs).

Me: The quality of work here is something I immediately recognized as being of the highest quality; especially the stencil work. I went online to look at the collection you have and there is some seriously legitimate work you have.

Gabriele: Thank you very much. The other focus that we have because I did screen printing for a couple of years, I got to know a lot of people in that medium, so the other idea is like, because it’s a very nice medium, even if it’s a small series, you still have the kind of feeling of having a small originals. And what we try to do is like, on the one hand, to make art affordable for everybody without that high [gallery standard] where you have to have a lot of money to get a small, nice piece of art. So we try to have really nice and cool offers for young people and people without that much money to still have to enjoy that part of life. And on the other hand, we realized that if you have a small series and you can sell them quite nicely, slowly but surely you help the artist [make a living] by selling their artwork. So in the end, instead of [the artist] doing other jobs, they can sell small stuff here and they can use the money to do other stuff, or create more original artwork.

Me: Eventually becoming more productive instead of having to work as a barista or something…

Gabriele: Exactly. A lot of times that’s the problem. You do art and you don’t know exactly where to present it and you don’t know how to make a living out of it and we try on the one hand to present them and show them to the public and on the other hand trying to help them [make] a living out of it.

Me: Right on. So why choose the name “Supalife”?

Gabriele: Because we want to beat the depression outside. (laughs) I think it’s very unconventional. I studied Graphic Design. I never studied economics or business. A lot of stuff that we do we just do because we feel like we want to do it, and that’s because we have a good feeling towards that. So, we try to have a “Supalife.” Because outside there’s a lot of structure and rarrrr. (laughs).

Me: Yeah I like it. Where do the artists come from that you sell, both geographically and from a technical stand point, or from a medium stand point?

Gabriele: I would say we have a nice mixture of people who studied graphic design, a lot of people are graphic designers or illustrators, a lot of people come from the streets who work with graffiti and came to their own kind of visual image. [pause: her dog wanted to chase a fly and stomp over the art]. And street art graphics, and we have people who have never studied at all, but for some reason they have that kind of feeling inside that they have to come out and I think it’s the most important that if you see that it’s always some kind of quality.

Geographically, more or less the main focus is Berlin people, but now we have more and more international people are contacting us as well. We would love to do more with these people so it’s a question of money to get the artwork over here, or to invite these people to do small exhibitions here. We do small exhibitions here every month. But on the other hand, because we started out with the idea that Berlin is a fancy city, if you live here, people in general don’t have that much income so that’s why we still focus on Berlin because since I grew up here, it’s the strongest connection that I have. But, for the future, we would love to do more stuff with international people and maybe doing exchange stuff as well.

Me: Yeah, that sounds really good. Do you consider this store for everyone, or is this store merely for the person that is into urban, street art? Do you get a lot of first timers or do the majority of customers come in who already kind of know artists and have more knowledge about street art?

Gabriele: Yeah, because we are presented in one or two city guides, and if people are looking for this kind of graphics, we have a certain people who work with graphics and are interested in street art, these are the ones who will find us in a certain way. Still, a lot of people just pop in just because, you know “whoot, let’s see what is happening there”, and I really like that. It’s always quite nice if you see that you can even convince people if you can show them something that they didn’t expect. One time, there was a very old lady couple, both in their late 50’s to early 60’s, and so we started to talk about the writing (graffiti), and they were like ‘yeah it always looks dirty on the streets’, and I showed them one book and a couple of examples of what the people try to say and what the people are trying to do, and in the end they were like ‘wow, this is a way we never saw it’. So in the end they even bought the book, which the writing book is a very street art, very graffiti book in a certain way. So in the end, they were very interested in seeing it from a different angle and I think that’s the good thing to do here as well; to use [the store] as a platform to make people discuss and maybe think about certain [aspects] that they can’t see. So it’s good when people who “don’t know”, come in [to the store].

Me: That actually takes me to the graffiti of Berlin. What do you think about the graffiti in Berlin? Especially in an area like Prenzlauer Berg.

Gabriele: I’m honestly not into that “old school” graffiti scene. I cannot really tell you a lot of the “real” graffiti. I got into what is now called “street art”. I personally really appreciate what the people are doing there because for me, this is a very special kind of social communication; like a visual communication on the street trying to make people think, also trying to [gain] answers, or trying to redefine questions. So for me I always add that very personal attachment to it because I was like, these people don’t get any money you know. They just go outside and do what they have to do because these are the active people, in my opinion, who try and get a reaction from society…

Me: Whether a positive or negative reaction?

Gabriele: Exactly. But I think right now a lot of time the [majority] of media gives you information, like billboards [for example], “yeah do this, please buy this, etc…” So it’s always just input, input, input. And for me, I’m kind of fed up with it so [with the street artists], I say ‘yeah, thank you’, because it’s something that I can react to. It’s something that people can start to discuss about.

There was a very nice project once, when a guy who, it seems his girlfriend left him, so he wrote posters like ‘Oh Linda, why don’t you go on your telephone...Linda please call me back…Linda you’re a part of my light, I have a whole in my heart…’ For weeks it went on. And then suddenly, people started to communicate. There were certain people who made a poster next to his poster, “Come on Linda give him another chance!” And there were other posters saying “Come on you psycho, leave her alone. You must have been really bad if she doesn’t want to call you anymore.” So in the end, because it was such an easy topic being in love and having heartbreak feelings, so it was very easy for everybody to [participate]. But in the end, it really happened that other people started to communicate…

Me: A two way street was created between artist and audience?

Gabriele: Yeah, exactly. You see that’s what I really appreciate about this art form and its communication.

Me: And graffiti falls into that in a way?

Gabriele: Graffiti does fall into that, but if we look into really standard, very “old school” graffiti”, I don’t have that much knowledge because I’m not from the graffiti scene.

Me: Right on. Who, right now, is the artist most in demand in the store?

Gabriele: Oh there are a couple of people. There are certain people that are always very well asked for. EVOL & PISA73 who work for CTINK. They do these stencil artworks. We had a big exhibition two years running. And now we got new artwork in as well. They both work together at CTINK. Internationally by now they are quite well known. I personally think they belong to the best stencil artists that you can find because their technical aspect, and the intention of what they are trying to say as well, is very exceptional. They bring together a lot of good qualities. They were both graffiti sprayers and have practiced for 20 years, so they have a very good graphical eye. They are very technically perfect. (hands me book of PISA73 artwork. Shows me EVOL stencil work). In the end these are great artists…Unfortunately, we cannot always show everything, which is really a pity because I’d love to have a huge space to show everything…We have a lot of posters and screen printing books and have certain people that we’ve worked with for a couple of years.

Me: And they just keep on producing?

Gabriele: Yeah, they are really active. I think this is cool because sometimes I’m like “could you please…” you know. If you see that it works and it’s cool, then I’m usually happy if the people produce cool stuff. And in the end they are happy as well if we have it here and it gets sold, and stuff like that.

Me: That is usually the intent: the artist to live by his art.

Gabriele: Yeah exactly. And that’s what we try in the end. I’m trying it for myself as well because I really appreciate working with these people on a very similar level because in the end we both are happy doing something together. I’m not really interested anymore in working as a graphic designer, which is what I still like to do on my own, but I really appreciate working in this kind of way, and in the end we’ll all have a “Supalife.”

Me: I love it. Where do you think art is headed in Berlin specifically?

Gabriele: Where is it heading?

Me: Yeah, where’s it going? Is street art taking over?

Gabriele: Street art I really like. I think in the past two years it got really popular. It got really featured. The media is picking up on it; advertising is picking up on the kind of style [that is street art]. A lot of publishers have books about the topic [of street art]. There are a lot of really good exhibitions running. The Back Jump, which is coming this year again, it’s like every second year, a very huge graffiti exhibition. In case you should be here you should take a look. It got very popular, so I’m interested to see what the next level will be. There’s always a problem when the big brands pick up on it. They use, in a certain way, a lot of the graffiti influences, or the street art influences now for their commercial artwork. And now there is for example the Nike Space or the Adidas color.

Me: They definitely are approaching the more urban tones.

Gabriele: I think in a certain way, I’m already fed up with it, but there will be something new happening.

Me: So do you think it’ll get bigger and better, or more refined?

Gabriele: More refined, definitely. I think I appreciate the more people that go outside and do their stuff in general, I appreciate it because I think society is too laid back, and I say “No, Get Active.” I have a saying, “Art is active revolutionary tactics.” You know, you have to have a certain idea and you have to be active. Art is not saying “what a beautiful society.” I think if you want to improve in society and you want to develop stuff, then you have to be [innovative]. So in general I’m totally honored, everyone should get active. On the other hand, I’m thinking certain [artists] that really have to do it, they will get more refined and they will get more accepted in the art community. Now we have Banksy who gets really published and now sells paintings for a lot of money. On one hand, it’s good because in general artists have graffiti exhibitions or art exhibitions. They do street art exhibitions and then there’s like, the art context. So I think maybe a lot of these people will come out into an officially accepted art.

Me: An arena to where they’ll be on a pedestal with other great artists?

Gabriele: Yeah, because it’s what they do. It’s a different kind of art than painting, or from an art school.

Me: Essentially, street art is on the trajectory that photography was in a hundred years ago. Photography was just seen as a tool.

Gabriele: Exactly. The same thing will happen to street art. Certain people will get accepted in the art scene.

Me: Do you think it’s happening now? Or does it take a major museum to hold an exhibition?

Gabriele: I think it’s already in the process. I think if you look back in history, in the end you find paintings or sculpture of a certain period of time, and in the end we make conclusions about the culture [that created them]. In the end, a couple of hundreds years from now, if they find something, I think it would be cool if they see this as an [important] aspect of what was going on in society. I think there are very standard, “normal” people who use their freedom and right to work and have their own individual impression about society; in the end it would be a cool aspect to find [street art].

Me: I agree. It would be cool to think of what people think of street art in a hundred years. Two quick references that I wanted to get your impression about: Banksy?

Gabriele: Right now, he’s really getting pushed. Somebody needs to take this role. It was like Andy Warhol for example. It’s the same thing. There’s a lot of people who come from that scene, who had that kind of technique and ideas, but he was outstanding and he was the one who was officially accepted, and therefore a certain type of pop culture got more accepted and I think its very much the same thing with Banksy. So it’s like, he has a public, official role.

Me: Shepherd Fairy?

Gabriele: Personally I prefer Banksy, but that’s only my opinion. He’s somebody who’s been working years and years. Very strong propaganda, very strong paintings that people can feel the influence. He is definitely a very important person as well.

Me: Who are your favorite artists at the moment?

Gabriele: I really like AKAY. He’s an artist from Sweden. I got to know him a couple of years ago. He was one of the first people from that scene that we had an exhibition from a few years ago. It was like, I could understand his thinking and he could understand mine. For me it was really exceptional. I understood what he was trying to say. He is very strict. He’s also very humble. He’s not doing anything for promotion. He’s just doing his stuff. He’s been a graffiti writer and now he’s in his mid 30’s. He’s very quiet, but he’s very strong. And for me personally, he’s a very impressive person…He’s been working since the mid 90’s visually. You should take the time to see his stuff…He really uses “the world as his playground.” He always has a very strong social or critical standpoint about society.

For example, one series I really liked, in the modern cities at the city centers, they’ve tried to get rid of all the poor people and the homeless people…

Me: Los Angeles is actually doing that right now.

Gabriele: Yeah, instead of getting money into some logical social projects to give the people a hand, or help them out somehow and not just push them away, [AKAY] was taking pictures of sleeping homeless people, and then made black and white screen prints, and then brought them back into the downtown center areas and put them on the walls. So it was like, now you got rid of them, but [AKAY] brought them back in a certain way. It makes people aware, like come on…

Me: You can’t just disenfranchise people…

Gabriele: Yeah, I think it’s very like, if you don’t see, you forget about it. It’s a very easy function in a way…

Me: Society does that a lot.

Gabriele: Yeah. So, AKAY is a very important person. I have a lot of these people that we have here because I don’t believe in celebrities or anything. I only really get involved with people when I get to know them. I see the artwork and you get to know the person behind them, and a lot of the people that we present here, I have a strong feeling about and I’m quite sure these [artists] will make their way because I see the quality and I’m convinced that their work is good enough and that people will realize what is in the work.

Me: Do you think that the streets that we walk on, the streets that we pass everyday, those will be the galleries of tomorrow?

Gabriele: In a certain way they already are. I think now it’s in the Banksy process where it’s like the small village where the people say, “No don’t paint the wall because we want to keep that picture”. Same thing happened here [in Prenzlauer Berg], when they remodeled houses, and the housekeeper left one square meter where there was a very beautiful, or intense painting. So I’m thinking that it’s already happening that people are trying to reserve and keep [street art]. I think if people in general [become] more aware of what’s happening, maybe one day [the streets] will be an accepted gallery, but now it’s just open space, very cool galleria already. I mean, if you want to, you can walk around and you can have a cool art trip. You can go to good art gallery spaces, but if you want to and you are using your eye, you can find a lot of good stuff in the streets already; and it tells you something about the people living here, about opinions, and about conflicts, wishes, and questions.

I think it’s very important that the city tells you something that you can still differentiate between the cities. There’s a development in cities in which they become more and more similar. There are certain trademarks. You’re going to the shopping center in Berlin, and tomorrow you might be in Paris, and still it seems like the same place. But I think it’s very important that the city keeps its own kind of spirit, and their own kind of feeling, because the people make the city. The city is a structure for people. So in the end, it’s very important that people still realize what kind of people are living here, because that makes the feeling of the city, it makes the heart of the city.

Me: And with that we’ll have a Supalife hopefully and everyone will be happy.

Gabriele: I hope so too.

for more information on EVOL & PISA73, go here.
Also: PISA73CTINK Book.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photos taken from Supalife website
All Rights Reserved.

Newton, LaChapelle, & Nachtwey: Heavyweights In Berlin.

2007-02-23T03:41:00.000-08:00

The Helmut Newton Foundation is sponsoring a dazzling exhibit at the Museum Für Fotographie. “Men, War & Peace” is an exhibit juxtaposing the harsh, the hedonistic, and the charismatic side of three notoriously famed photographers of the last century. Displaying a significant number of well-known photographs, the museum also boasts Helmut Newton’s own private collections, including some of his own cameras, his award winning fashion layouts, and magazine prints. The exhibit will be on going until May 20th, 2007.

David LaChapelle: Peace

The first photograph I encountered was LaChapelle’s “Secret Garden”, featuring Pamela Anderson. The ultra-vibrant colors and bizarre fixtures, that included a human sized fish tank in a living room containing the stunningly nude Anderson, transfixed me at first. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a LaChapelle photograph; but it was the first time I’d seen them in such grandeur. The photographs were exquisitely printed monstrosities. They took up for majority of the wall they hung on. With fluorescents and neons all blistering about amidst bizarre poses and jeering compositions, LaChapelle’s photographs were what I suspect a nude “pleasure cruise” would be like.

The assortment of his images revolved around the extremes of hedonistic behavior: women pretending to urinate on each other while Russian men shower nearby; an astronaut about to make love to a seductively stripped nude Naomi Campbell (this one was cleverly named “Houston, We Have A Problem; an obese nude woman trapped in a bubble on the edge of a farm.

These images and more granted the viewer a look into a broadening world of extreme libertarianism. Its contemporary appearance shadowed the practices of rebellious Victorian’s in their prime: the most notable being the Earl of Rochester. I supposed it was Rochester who gracefully waltz into my mind while standing in front of a LaChapelle photograph that depicted a lovely model squeezing her voluptuous teat, and flinging her milky residue onto another woman’s cereal. I couldn’t help but marvel at the simple-minded approach. Though the photographs were beautifully produced, the images were simply high-end commercial drag. It was Hollywood, and too much of it.

James Nachtwey: War

The celebrated photojournalist’s stunning work composed the “War” aspect of the exhibit. Nachtwey’s images revolved around a gruesome tale of death, suffering, grievance, plight, and destruction. Situated throughout the world including Afghanistan, Chechnya, the Balkans, Iraq, Rwanda, and the United States, Nachtwey’s photographs projected a dire perspective amidst the realm of war.

Some of his most agonizing pieces were those that comprised of suffering children. Some photographs capture children in their final moments of life, while others are captured in the height of their turbulent life. Shocked, scarred, and sometimes left limbless, his images imposed the most horrific of wartime’s atrocities: the suffering of children.

However, the most unbearable of the series surrounded the mass genocide of Rwanda. Machete sliced bodies, charred flesh, and discarded skeletons depict a time in human society that will be despised for its shameless acts of cruelty. Nachtwey’s photographs induced a surreal look into examining the violence of war. And to bring it a little closer to home, his series on 9/11 examined the day through the perspective of mangled steel and demolished buildings. Firefighters on top of smoldering carnage and towering dust clouds overwhelming one of the most beautiful cityscapes on earth transplanted you back to that fateful day that initiated the dire state we find ourselves today.

By far the most enticing of the three exhibits, Nachtwey’s work is a treasure that should be examined and distributed throughout the major museums of the world.

Helmut Newton: Men

Helmut Newton is a pioneer. Enough said. The final exhibit I went through was Newton’s collection of portraits that included Martin Scorsese, Jude Law, Anthony Hopkins, Wes Craven, too name a few. His eloquent style was the formidable essence of photography in his day. This exhibit captures the sohpisticated fragrance that is Newton, and you better believe the magnitude of his legacy in photography is extreme.

A few favorites: Anthony Hopkins in the early 80’s; a frantic looking Roman Polanski; a young rocker by the name of Mick Jagger; and my favorite was a Julio Iglesias in Los Angeles, surrounded by bomb trees and swimsuit wearing ladies, circa 1980.

Information:

Museum Für Fotographie
Tuesday-Sunday: 10am-6pm
Thurday: 10am-10pm (Free after 6pm)

Visit www.helmutnewton.com for details.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Whats Up In Los Angeles?

2007-02-22T06:44:00.000-08:00

Cold War Kids are playing the Troubador in Los Angeles tonight, and I’m in Berlin. If you’ve got a ticket to that show, you better report back to me or else. Pictures, a brief blurb about the show, or whatever the hell you want to email me. Just do it. Am I allowed to use that phrase without Nike infringing on my rights?

For all of you that don't know, I'm crazy infatuated with these crazy cats. Their ultra soulful rock is dy-no-mite. Their album, "Robbers and Cowards", available through Downtown Records, is a wound up surplus of funky ol' fun. Street pounding ballads to ultra thrashed soul, this album plays over and over on the hip 80gb contraption I lug around. Peep these Long Beach rockers when you get a chance.

Anyway, I’m checking out an exhibit tonight that consists of Helmut Newton, James Nachtwey, and David LaChapelle @ the Museum Für Fotografie. I'm ready to bludgeon my senses with a little artistic aroma. I’ll report back soon

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc
photos of Cold War Kids snagged from their myspace.
All Rights Reserved.

The Grime: Daytime Berlin

2007-02-22T01:06:00.000-08:00

It’s been a week since I’ve settled. It’s been a productive week, a tiring week, and a refreshing week. I had actually promised myself that I wouldn’t denote any romanticism to Berlin because it would only discharge all the grime that I’ve happily accumulated. Not to imply that this city is dirty. It’s not the grime I’m talking about. I’m talking about the scents, tastes, sights, that Berlin distributes for all to collect. It’s what every city distributes, but in different doses and in different ways. I dig the grime I collect. It makes me feel pleasantly worn.

To become romantic about Berlin would only reshape and realign my perspective to that of a tourist; and I am no such thing. Instead, I sit here enthusiastically ransacking my memory database in search of all the treasures I’ve already collected: the falafel house off of Pappelallee, “Supalife” Art store on RaumerStrasse, the little coffeehouse on ShliemannStrasse that sells those deliciously looking chocolate cakes (I’ve yet to indulge in the cakes, but their milchkaffee rocks). These are only a few of the many things I’ve indulged in over the last week.

For the most part I’ve developed a savvy routine that includes milchkaffee in the morning, some falafel for lunch, and then I work a little more, writing incessantly in my memo pad/notebook/journal/laptop, and finally turning in around 9pm. Have you finally realized that there’s absolutely no talk of nightlife yet? It’s basically because I haven’t indulged in any. I’m usually trekking 5-8 miles around the city to capture the day-scape atmosphere of the buzzing food stalls, carriage toting mama’s, and frenzied Berliners who are all about shining when the sun peeks out for a few moments throughout the day, that I forget to save any energy for the nighttime. Berlin is just to riveting in the day. I also have to confess that my one night of debauchery in Berlin was at Circus Hostel’s bar, where I managed to make friends with some Brits, talk football of the Premiership kind, and end up 7 pints later, strolling through freezing cold looking for either a kebab stall or a hot dog counter.

Since the next morning after that raucous wasn’t so pleasant, I consciously recognized that if I were to get any work done here, I would have to forsake the night for at least the first week, and get some writing done. It worked. However, saving my mula and not having to solicit my pristine lungs to second hand smoke has been just fine. I did manage to take in the Real Madrid/Bayern Munich match Wednesday night and I came out smelling like an ashtray. Anyway, I plan to possibly creep out of my dungeon tonight and explore some Berlin nightlife.

To be continued…

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photos by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Getting Around Berlin: Bicycles

2007-02-21T00:24:00.000-08:00

Want To Get Around Berlin…?

Bicycles are probably the most efficient form of transportation in Berlin. The metro is a bargain, but if you can manage to salsa your way around cobblestone alleyways, trolley junctions, and poop slated sidewalks, then the bicycle is your best bet for a thorough rendezvous with the city.

The scene is actually really hip, with bike stalls and racks just about every 5 meters, but latching onto a street post, or cathedral gate is not uncommon. The bicycle has become an established voice in the city. Children as young as 3 years old are seen swaggering their tike bikes ahead of their on looking parents, while their playful dogs chase after them. Young men and grown women all treasure the uneven roads and designated bike strips that align the entire city.

As a pedestrian, you might have to worry about the peddler speeding through the tiny crevices between walker, telephone booth, and vehicle. They see a space their aiming for and they take it. However, they are far from rude. Most peddlers are casually striding on their two-wheeler. It’s unlikely you’ll see a Berliner sprinting towards a destination, unless they are in a hurry.

For the most part, the city bicyclist is toting a guitar, laptop, architectural design to his or her destination, and is in no need to either damage his product by slicing through the mountainous cobblestone they can stumble upon. Instead, the Berlin bicyclist is a Buddha on a bike: calm, meditative, and focused. Their intent is neither aggressive, nor meager. The Berlin bicyclist is poised, polite, and courteous.

There are numerous bicycle shops around the city. There are fabulous stalls all round Prenzlauer Berg near Lycherner Strasse, Shliemann Strasse, and Dunker Strasse. However, "renting" a bike is a different story. Berlin.de reports that there are only 14 bike rentals around the city. I would assume a craigslist bargain hunt wouldn't be out of the question, especially if you'd have a prolonged stay. Just remember to watch out for landmines!

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Candlelit Charisma: Berlin’s Unique Glow

2007-02-21T00:03:00.000-08:00

There is a stark glow that pervades upon your everyday existence in Berlin. It is a soft candescent illumination that is soothing to these halogen-oriented eyes. It is a feeling of comfort and renewal, allowing for tenseness to fade and calmness to settle. All that I’m depicting is found within a majestic, finite experience that emits all that is necessary for enlightenment: candlelight. And as of today, I have realized that a serenade of waxwork instrumentals and luminous overtures that caress the body and heal the soul orchestrates every café, restaurant, lounge I visit. You really can’t solicit this kind of comfort in Los Angeles.

Upon entering my latest café, the Alhamra, I wasn’t surprised to find minimal bulbs, and a surplus of wax. As I sat, the waiter grabbed the nearest lit candle in order to provide me with, what surprisingly turns out to be, an adequate amount of light: (as I write this, the bartender at “radiorock.de” headquarters places a candle in front of me as he sees me scribbling in my memo pad). Immediate sentiments will detour you to think of “romance.” It’s not a far concept, but I’d like to think that the romance created is more about sensation than emotion. That is, tulips smell nice, but they don’t make everyone happy.

Candlelight in Berlin is both for ambiance and utility: economy and charisma. It doesn’t hurt to imagine that there’s a bit of mystique induced into the broth of charisma as well. The dimly lit café’s and restaurants conjure up a mysticism that can catapult the charm of any establishment. However, I don’t think it’s a marketing scheme. That may fly in Los Angeles, where ideas for persuading customers to enter and spend $4.30 on a soy latte are becoming bland and lacking innovation. Yet here in Berlin, that’s simply the norm.

Inevitably, the candlelit ambiance becomes you. Submerged amidst a murky glow, you realize that you become that charm, the mysticism; and before you know it, you’re exuding the essence of Berlin through a sparkle in your eye, or a hop in your step. I guess you’ll have to take a trip to discover what I’m talking about.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Historical Berlin: A Madness Awakened

2007-02-20T00:58:00.000-08:00

I just returned from a historical bypass of Berlin: Old Wall Memorial, Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag, and the Jewish Memorial. Over the last five years of extensive traveling, I’ve come to find that historical intake can be seductively romantic, or bitterly arduous. There is one distinct place in Berlin that falls in the latter: Alexander Platz. The former East Berlin gem is hardly sparkling. I’d assume that even with the most socialist of the GDR scorned its aesthetic principles at one point or another. Alexander Platz is a stale, cold place. It’s uniform style of architecture, emphasized by the vast concrete facades and walkways, justify the unpleasant feeling you get when walking amidst this concrete jungle.

I could not help but try and seek some “beauty” within this desolate plaza. Unfortunately, the optimist failed. Instead, I looked towards the “other side”, just bordering the former wall, for that historical “romance” I was searching for. Not only were the sights visited today aesthetically pleasing, the history was more enchanting. With the exception of the Old Wall Memorial, the other sites condemned uniformity; and instead emitted a flourishing in the midst of tragedy.

Berlin Wall

There was a moment in today’s historical excursion that left me bothered and angry. It revolved around the idea that a 12-foot wall had segregated a people for almost thirty years. The city of Berlin had been refused the right to coalesce at will, to segregate at will, to love at will, or to hate at will. They were pushed into an oblivion in which both parties were bound to simply forget about each other. Essentially, Berlin was denied all forms of liberty. Both the East and the West were exempt from indulging in each other’s future, in each other’s culture, and in each other’s lives. What I found at the Old Wall Memorial was a sectioned off, salvaged wall. Two perpendicular walls noted the official memorial. And all I could muse upon were the ideas of paradox: my counterpart and my enemies.

This wall embodied everything I perceived wrong in the world: segregation, separation, isolation, etc. I had stumbled upon the physical relic of an idea I despised. Inevitably, I realized I was at the forefront of a battle I would have fought. Furthermore, I began to wonder where these partitions exist today; and suddenly I thought of three words: Secure Fence Act. On October 26, 2006, George W. Bush signed a bill that in his words,

"authorizes the construction of hundreds of miles of additional fencing along our southern border. The bill authorizes more vehicle barriers, checkpoints and lighting to help prevent people from entering our country illegally. The bill authorizes the Department of Homeland Security to increase the use of advanced technology, like cameras and satellites and unmanned aerial vehicles to reinforce our infrastructure at the border...” more on Secure Fence Act

I began to assume a great anger at that point. Walking down Bernauer Strasse towards the S-Bahn, I couldn’t even look back at the memorial. I consciously didn’t want to. As much as I wanted to appreciate the history, I couldn’t gather enough reason to solicit my emotions to such volatility. Perhaps I should have invested more feeling into the reality that this wall had exemplified totalitarian ferociousness at its finest. And that all who dared compromise its’ power would succumb to the wrath of rifle fire. That’s what should have been on my mind. Yet, all I felt was a strange distaste and a realization that this could soon be happening less than 200 miles away from my home.

I walked meagerly toward the Nordbahnhof station after that, with cold hands and a heavy heart. I may approach the wall again someday, but its coarse emissions were far too foul for me to withstand again anytime soon. I’d rather indulge in the Berlin of 2007. It’s far more appetizing.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photos by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

2 Days In Paris: In Alexander Platz: At Die Berlinale

2007-02-19T11:08:00.000-08:00

I decided to attend the last day of the Berlin International Film Festival even though my body wasn’t really up for it. Situated to the East of the city center, the movie of my choice placed me at the Cinema theaters in Alexander Platz.

Exiting the U-Bahn station, the sheer monstrosity of this plaza is overwhelming. With a giant television tower soaring towards the patchy cloud sky, the concrete seduction of Alexander Platz is hardly inviting. Instead, you feel a rather unpleasant effect, leaving you bewildered by why the place was even created. It may sound harsh, but the lack of aesthetic proficiency is disheartening. The historical significance is the only thing binding me to exploring its existence. I’ll have more on that later.

At the Berlin Film Festival, I enjoyed a humorous new film by actress/director Julie Delpy (Before Sunrise, Before Sunset). Since it was the last day of the screenings, I decided on something I was confident would leave me smiling, and upbeat. Considering I suffered from a major dose of jet lag, this film left me charmed and full of kick.

“2 Days In Paris”, Julie Delpy’s written, directed, and produced film, stars Adam Goldberg and Julie Delpy as an odd couple that’s returning home to New York City after a romantic excursion through Venice. The two, suffering from malcontent and neurotic tendencies, stop in Paris for two days to pick up “Marion’s”, (Julie Deply’s character), cat Jean-Luc.

While in Paris, “Jack” (Adam Goldberg’s character), formally meets Marion’s family, and is thrust into their highly dramatic lifestyle. Jack the American and Marion the Frenchwoman, both inexplicably high-strung and a bit odd, create a tumultuous dynamic consisting of Jack’s jealousy driven intuitions and Marion’s disregard for honesty. Oh, she’s a bit of a sexual vagabond as well.

Laced with rich doses of politically incorrect humor, sweeping cultural generalizations, and unrestrained sexual wit, the movie evades simplicity by placing the characters in a healthy sense of “real-life.” In an attempt to tackle scenarios that deal with language barriers, sexual freedom, and gender roles, “2 Days In Paris” salutes the rigors of staying sane in a 21st century relationship. Though jovial at times with it’s humor, the movie delivers a signature Delpy-esque sophistication that leaves you shyly grinning because at one point or another you’ve “connected” to the character. Sharp, witty, and delightfully funny, “2 Days In Paris” scores two thumbs up for its ruthless banter, neurotic impulse, and wonderful dialogue. Not sure about the distribution on this one, but I’m sure you’ll be able to catch it in the states.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Beck's Sees Red: Ronaldo Returns

2007-02-18T00:44:00.000-08:00

So after succumbing to Mr. Sandman’s iron potion, I managed to miss just about every important match I wanted to see yesterday: Man Utd. v Reading, Chelsea v Norwich, and Arsenal v Blackburn. I also missed Real Madrid v Real Betis. That same Real Betis that sucked their way out of a certain Copa del Rey dismissal with their heroic antics a few weeks back. This time around was more of the same. However, I did read that good ol’ Beck’s triumphed in establishing the yang, (or is it the yin?), to his brilliant performance last week.

Soccernet reported that Beck’s was sent off in the final minutes for a late charge against Betis player Isidro. I’m not troubled by the reports of him being sent off. I’m actually extremely alegre that he’s proving those critics, (the Capello admirers that had banished him), wrong. He’s hardly missed a step and he’s displaying a passion that any team would embrace. So is this merely “bad luck”, as most Madridistas would assume? Not entirely, but I do think Madrid are getting the short end of the stick when it comes to Spanish referees.

On a wonderful side note: Ronaldo, recently traded to AC Milan, scored twice against Siena, helping his new team climb to fifth in the rankings, and inch so much closer to that valued fourth spot.

This is a recent blurb I wrote about Ronaldo's trade two weeks ago:

Galactico Era Slimming Down: Ronaldo Traded To AC Milan

The last few years has seen Real Madrid drift from elite franchise to award-worthy melodrama. After a sour divorce with Portuguese international Luis Figo, an on-going trophy drought, and a rather ugly resignation from former President Florentino Pérez, (proud founder of the Galactico era), Madrid has broadcast its latest episode: all-time World Cup goal scorer Ronaldo has agreed to a deal with Italian giants AC Milan.

What does this mean for Madrid fans? Fewer goals and more whining are assured. Your team is trying to youth-anize itself and has brought in Fabio Capello to administer the solution. He's cut some of the fat out, but where there's no bulk, there's no buff.

It couldn't happen at a worse time for Madrid. The nine-time European champions have lost four out of their last six matches; their most marketable player, David Beckham, has been benched by señor Capello for the remainder of his contract; and now they've just sold their fiercest striker. Well done Madrid! I guess el merengue have relegated their efforts to the likes of Liverpool: salvage the fourth spot for the Euro tournaments. That's not the fierce Madrid I know.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Jet Lag: A Traveler's Nightmare and A Writer's Delight.

2007-02-17T20:27:00.000-08:00

It’s 3:51am Berlin time. On the first day of my trip, I managed to ease my way into European standard time by boozing myself to sleep on my flight. Those precious four hours in my dream world were magnanimous in extinguishing any possibility of jet lag. Once again, it’s 3:51am Berlin time; and I’m completely awake.

So what happened? Paris. Erica and I booked a 6:40am flight to Berlin on February 15th, in order to save some cash. However, the early booking meant one thing: we couldn’t take the metro after 12:30am or before 5:30am. Our flight’s last boarding call would be 6:10am. Forty minutes wasn’t enough time from Paris’ city center to the airport. So, we decided to begin our trek around 11pm, work our way to the airport, and rough it “backpacker style.” Little did I know that our ruthless approach to traveling would finally catch up to me when for three horrific hours I would call the airport’s floor my mattress. Two words: cold & hard. I assume “horrific” is a bit dramatic, but I remind you again, it’s early morning and I’m entrenched in this agony of darkness for awhile, if I don’t figure out a way to stay up past 7pm. Worst of all, I missed Real Madrid’s match yesterday. At least this quiet time allows me to pump out a blog in zero-5 minutes.

Erica and I are contemplating hitting up a 5am brunch at Café Manatees. It's either going to be a lifesaver, or a contributor to my agony. Well, it isn’t the end of the world. I do happen to be in Berlin.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

The Graffiti Archives: v.I

2007-02-17T10:35:00.000-08:00

I’m currently living in Prenzlauer Berg. It’s the working class sector of the former GDR. It’s been coined as a refuge for rebels, the avant-garde, and bohemians. Situated in the Northeast part of Berlin, (in relation the city center), Prenzlauer Berg boasts an urban raucous that has been compared to New York of the 1980’s. Simply put, there is a surplus of outspoken in your face creativity within this place.

The first exploratory force you find within the former East German stronghold is the ferocity of its street art: better know too most as graffiti. It would be an injustice to the modern art movement of graffiti artists around the world, to try and concisely interpret the social climate and progression of this revered, yet notorious art form. Instead, I plan to use it as a catapult to evaluate the sudden urban growth that Berlin has been experiencing for the last two decades.

When asking a cab driver, around his early 30’s, what he thought about the overwhelming graffiti plastered walls around the city, the cab driver merely shrugged, with a sort of indifferent gaze, and stated, “I ignore it.” I have to admit that I was perplexed by the answer. I wanted to assume immediately that his response was completely unordinary. I can only extract from the air of climate this art form creates around the world that you either have to hate it severely, or love it passionately. Thus, the driver’s indifference seemed uncanny. However, there is one immediate conclusion I come to with reason: Berliner’s have adapted to their new urban landscape like they have their harsh winters. They have assimilated to their environment like the guitarist to his guitar: fused beyond recognition and in a rhythm beyond explanation.

What is certain is that the unleashing of such unrefined, guerrilla work is a symbol of the new found freedom that is prevalent in Berlin. With the GDR, East Berlin was a stringent, uniform society that demanded precision and efficiency. To allow this within such a regime would have been categorized as weak. To allow this would only be possible in the confines of a mythical world. Well, that’s the past now.

Today, Prenzlauer Berg is flourishing. And its representation of Art is running parallel. As I walk through cobblestone streets, I find myself interpreting the graffiti as pure expression: a blunt force, aggressive take on a new movement: an unrefined, turbulent product of “Urbanismo.” It’s ruthless, arrogant, and downright raw. I get excited just thinking about walking through these streets tomorrow.

The Graffiti Archives will be a running theme: an expose of the most controversial art form on earth. I’ll try my best to embrace its volatility.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Photos by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Hostel Review: Circus In Berlin

2007-02-17T01:26:00.000-08:00

The chic high-wire act between hipster cool and family oriented is nothing less than impressive at this Berlin hotspot. My one night stay at this highly ranked hostel was a smooth ride. From the complete wireless hook up to their comfortable leather seats, Circus Hostel is one of the best at accommodating its clientele. One through ten, this place comes in at a solid 9.5. Points deducted only because “Goldman’s Bar” is closed for renovations.

The polite staff, fluent in both English and German, was beyond helpful. Getting me to an electronics store to look for a converter was one of the few questions they had ALL the answers to. In fact, they didn’t shy away from any questions I threw at them. From Doner Kebab establishments, to Hertha Berlin’s football matches, the staff was equipped with what appeared to be the perfect training.

The room I was in consisted of 8 beds, co-ed, costing a valued 17 euro (+2 euro for bed sheets). The spacious and clean room was equipped with multiple outlets, private reading lights, and comfortable mattresses. We even had the luxury of listening to Johnny Cash covering some Hank Williams over the loud speakers of the Doner Kebab place open just across the street. I was constantly threatened by the establishments “24 hour” service, but I wisely declined a 4am meal. Rooms are available as shared or private accommodations. There are even some relatively priced “apartment” dwellings on the top floor, but make reservations in advance because they sell out quick.

The café & bar directly adjacent to the hostel heightened the charm of this place. The leather outfitted, itunes friendly, wireless capacity of the joint, offered patrons a perfect atmosphere to indulge in a 2 euro Warsteiner, listen to some “Sounds of Berlin”, and gloat to friends online about what a great time their having. The menu is concise, but delicious. Ranging from croissants and sandwiches to Greek salad and pasta, the most expensive meal is 3,50 euro, (except their all you can eat breakfast buffet: 5 euro). This place is truly a gold mine for the budget traveler.

So, if you’re looking for reasonable priced hostels with more charm than they are charging, you’ve hit the jackpot here.

The Circus Hostel is located at:
Weinbergsweg 1a, 10119 Berlin
Tele: +49 030 2839 1484
24-hour reception

Citizen 192Ô
Ó 2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.Ô
Photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved.

Berlin: Day 1

2007-02-15T12:01:00.000-08:00

There are a few blogs that are in edit form at the moment because I had the unfortunate development of having my laptops' battery die out on me within two days. Those blogs develop the story to where I'm at today.

Before you begin to assume that I was incoherent to the fact that I need a voltage converter in Europa, I managed to purchase one a few hours before I left LA, confident that I would have full autonomy over my literary expeditions. Unfortunetly, it was the "wrong" converter. In a few words: square peg no fit round peg. End of story and to commence with Berlin.

After a rather strenuous plight, which you will read about once I manage to power my computer and publish the drafts, Erica and I arrived in Berlin bruised, battered, and beaten by the giant: exhaustion. After battling with our 30 ton baggage, (remember, there is stuff you haven't read yet), we boarded S-Bahn & U-Bahn trains to reach our first destination: "Circus Hostel" in the district of Prezlauer Berg.

That is where I write from today. This hostel is a great example of "bohemian-chic". With it's smooth modern layout, an enticingly warm interior, and a fresh cafe that is inviting and extremely comfortable, Circus creates a perfect example for "economical cool". Basically, this joint makes the Holiday Inn look like a Motel 6.

Immediate observations about Berlin: debilitatingly cold & big. The air here is the most frigid I've ever felt and after reading and studying numerous city maps in my time, Berlin ranks as the most intimidating. If I begin to merge the history, warfare, people, language, diversity, etc, I could probably satisfy every cultural craving I have for the next few months. On that note: I checked out the apartment where I'll be living for the next few weeks and I was satisfied. At about €10 a day, it's a solid deal.

I'm off to the Berlin International Film Festival today. It's off the U-Bahn at the Potsdamer Platz stop. I'm already such a pro.

Bombard me with your comments, recommendations, blessings, etc. Your words are like a donation that keeps me afloat. Ciao.

Citizen 192™
© 2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.™

Hostel Review: Absolute Paris

2007-02-15T05:09:00.000-08:00

This premier Parisian hostel was absolutely…well it was well worth the money spent. It was a delight and a rather accommodating joint for the 24 euro I paid. The luxuries included a private bathroom in the maximum 4 person mixed dorm. This was the selling point for me. I’ve never been thoroughly convinced that a 12-16 mixed dorm room, (which is typical for elite hostels), with shared bathroom is the most “economical” way to go. Privacy aside, the foot fungus you’re inviting to your lovely twinkle toes is by far a troublesome reality. Absolute Paris doesn’t void this intrusion of fungal disease, but it sure cuts down the amount of people that may possibly shower in the same place as you for the day.

It’s small, but comfortable rooms afford a great way to meet some fellow travels, while not having to endure a barrage of twilight revelers spoiling your much needed rest. Remember, a serious traveler follows the cardinal rule you find in poker: always leave yourself “outs.” Energy is what you’re gambling with and you always want to lave yourself enough to endure whatever adventures intense traveling brings.

Other fabulous amenities included were free Parisian breakfast from 7:30am to 9:30am: usually consisting of the typical croissant, café noir, orange juice, and fruit spread. They supply an ample amount of towels and there is absolutely no curfew. The other highlight: it’s in the midst of Place de la Republique: a trendy hotspot reeling with Turkish fast food and a youthful exuberance that Disneyland would crave.

All in all, I give it thumbs up. Just bring some of the broken ass French you have stored in your closet. I’m sure the helpful staff will appreciate it.

Absolute Hostel is located at 1 Rue de la Fontaine au Roi 75011 Paris, off of Metro stop Republique.

Citizen 192Ô
Ó 2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
Photo by Citizen 192
All Rights Reserved

Virgin Atlantic: Flirtation At It's Finest

2007-02-13T22:54:00.000-08:00

Besides bombarding their opportune clients with a minimum of four dozen films, a wide variety of comedic and dramatic tv shows, and endless games and software; I discovered one of Virgin Atlantic’s coolest and simplest forms of possible entertainment: seat to seat text messaging. If you didn’t immediately think the infinite possibilities of flirtation then you’re lame. With little physical effort, but supreme ballsyness, you can text message that sultry vixen sitting two seats over and one seat down from you, (or that bloke who’s been winking at you for an hour with little knowledge that he has ketchup stains on his shirt). A simple hello may suffice, but you know that the possibilities are endless. Anderson Cooper reported on a study that stated “35% of sex is initiated through text messages.” How much of that sex is taking place at 36,000 feet in the air? I’m going to bet the percentage will rise on that.

Virgin Atlantic has continuous flights from LAX to Europe, Australia, and Asia.

Citizen192Ô
Ó 2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.Ô

I Love Sexy Football

2007-02-13T22:53:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder what the person about to sit next to you for the next 10 hours may be assuming about you? You should if you find yourself sitting by me. I have a tendency to stutter at times when asked a question I’m not ready for; especially when that question comes from a stranger I have to delightfully, or annoyingly have to endure for the next half-day.

Francis, a tall Nigerian born Londoner, steered towards my aisle and politely asked if I wanted the window seat. I declined. Bathroom immediacy is necessary on an airline like Virgin Atlantic because they feed you for days. Anyway, I recognized that the airline seat assignment gods had once again blessed me.

The tall, young chap taking refuge in the seat next to me looked like a footballer; but I didn’t want to rush to judgment. Yet, he was dressed like a footballer. His swagger was the embodiment of a footballer. His Nike sweat suit and Umbro satchel all screamed footballer. However, I missed my chance to deliver a simple “hey my name is Alex”, in order to establish the foundation for football chatter, so there was hardly any conversation throughout the flight. Instead, we both indulged in a few of the 51 films broadcast on our private television screens.

Heading towards the last half hour of our decent, my curiosity finally got the best of me. I kindly asked if he lived in London. He replied, “yes.” I asked him what he was doing in Los Angeles and he shyly replied that he’d participated in a try-out with the Los Angeles Galaxy. I wasn’t shocked. I knew he was a footballer.

With my intuition sustained, I began to ask the typical football questions. What do you think about the Champions League match-ups? Where’s England going to place in Euro 2008? What do you think about Beckham going to the Los Angeles Galaxy? With little surprise, he was inquisitive and concise about every question. He seemed intrigued by how some American guy knew so much about futbol; and I’ll be honest, I am proud of my obsession with the game.

Finally, he let it out, “my favorite team is Arsenal.” I asked why and with a delicately spewed smile he said, “I just love sexy football man.” I grinned an agreeable grin because I knew exactly what he was talking about. There is a seduction that takes place when watching your team play. It doesn’t solely rest on the fact that they’re your team. The team you pick to root for doesn’t happen by accident. It’s an attraction to the tenacity, speed, passion that a team exudes that makes you fall in love with your team. The seduction is continuous, and a winning team only suspends that climax in an aura of ecstasy. It may all sound superfluous, but futbol goes beyond passion. If you don’t know, now you know.

Citizen 192
2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.
All Rights Reserved.

Dep-ART-ure: Scenery Shift: Europe 2007

2007-02-12T15:50:00.000-08:00

2:30pm: LAX

I’ve been waiting for the exhilaration to set in. The same type that Tom Robbins describes so beautifully. Stepping onto the crossway towards to Virgin Atlantic terminal, with a sensual and extremely comfortable breeze, I settled on the most profound of changes that awaits me on this trip: intense climate change. In Europe, wavering clouds taunt foreigners and locals alike. A “breeze” means everything when it submerges the mercury to the depths of a theological paradox: “depths of Hell” mean nothing to me when it’s –5°C.

If it isn’t language barriers that trouble me, it’s surely the grotesquely unsettling feeling of not having a warm enough scarf, or a beanie that will adequately maintain my delicate interior furnace. Languages can easily be maintained and manipulated to at least fake assimilation. A few syllables construed to form an obscenity; some hip German slang; a delightfully placed “pardon” or “excuse me”, and you fit right in. But have me walking down snow-covered cobblestone at I’ll surely display my lack of winter no-how.

I definitely await the challenge of blistering cold, lip chapping, borough my face into warm scarf oblivion, breezes. It’s the epitome of why I travel. I’d rather shiver in the midst of adventure, than brazenly display my bravado. I never intend to buy a warm enough of coat because I don’t want my senses to be taken for granted. Instead, I emphatically proclaim my rebellion towards the cold, unrestrained wrath of a European winter. While I’m at it, I may as well denounce my comfort for the “perfect Los Angeles” day.

Forty days of travel commence today: read on bitte (please).

Rage-aholics Unite: RATM To Play Coachella

2007-01-22T20:54:00.000-08:00

It was a surreal wake up call. By 7:20am, my phone had been badgering me too check out of my steady slumber. I peered over to my cell phone screen and "Leroy" pulsated across the damaged LCD on my LG. I let it ring the whole way through until it stopped. I tucked in a little more snug and the phone began to ring again, immediately after the "beeps" notifying me I had a "missed call had ceased. This time I knew it was serious. This time I knew something major had been broadcast. Lawrence, aka "Leroy", never called that early unless it had something to do with the Dodgers, the Lakers, or music: specifically RATM news. I knew this was big because the rumours had been circulating.

I didn't even mutter a "hello", when my boy screamed into the mic, "Rage is playing Coachella mothafucka!! ahhhh..." I was stunned. I felt a cool shiver run down my spine, and giant grin spread fast from cheek to cheek. Could I truly allow myself to believe what he was screaming into my ear? I didn't know whether to jump out of bed, or pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I decided to open and close my eyes until I knew for sure I was awake. When that proved successful, I was simply ecstatic.

"Where the hell did you hear this?", I said.
"KROQ just announced the 3-day headliners for Coachella! Bjork, RHCP, and Rage sucka!"

By this time, my morning voice was gone and a strong, sturdy stream of "no way Leroy! don't fuck with me! are you serious!" phrases were spewing out of me like Zack's improvised stomps. His hysterical laughter, a sure sign he's telling the truth, was an overwhelming comfort to me. Immediately I thought, "if it's in the Times, it's true". On the front page of LATimes.com, a familiar face, poised and vibrant with ferocious overtones, had a headline hovering over it: "Rage Against The Machine will reunite for Coachella." I merely gasped.

Now, let's put this into perspective. I began listening to RATM around 97'. I admit I was a bit late, but immediately seduced. Rebellion was a teenage adherent and I was ready to become a soldier. At that time, Zapatista setiments were high and I was searching for validity in my life. I wasn't too caught up with "Chicanoism, but I ran with a crew who was, and I indulged. I quickly found out that I wasn't a Chicano. However, I began to realize that harnessing rebellion and knowledge could create an impact far more viable than anything I'd ever experienced. After thoroughly embracing Tom Morello's memorable book list on ratm.com, I began to realize that knowledge was without it's limitations. Though rich with my own original perspectives, I saw RATM as a voice of our generation. Of course, my idealism was as a fluid as a raging river in those days, and fascinated by the idea of "revolution", I began to see RATM as role models. In all honesty, there was nothing more glamorous than revolution in those years, and RATM was the soundtrack of my life.

Over the span of a few years, there was a consistency of "Free Mumia" protests, Stop Police Brutality protests, and encounters with neo-cons trying to extinguish diversity. Over those years, RATM songs became our anthems. Between the spring of 99' and Sept 00, the crew and I made it to 9 shows in 11 months. My first RATM show happened to be Coachella's first annual showcasing. I'd never experienced anything like it. From losing my right sneaker in the middle of their set, getting it back, and fighting to survive within a whirlwind of "snails" (shirtless guys, and sometimes girls), moshers, punks, and zapatistas all trying to get as close to the stage as possible, the experience proved to not only enhance my determination, but my resiliance as well. Making it to the rail of an RATM show was never an easy task, but we were always there. In those days, nothing was impossible. Rebellion was a must. Revolution was a way of life. We sort of lost all of that in the Fall of 00'. That was the year Rage broke up.

Yet this morning, a surge of nostalgia, mingled with a mix of anxiety and resiliance, sprang forth from an unconscious vault locked away in my psyche. A barrage of cascading images ran down my gloating face: fists pumped valiantly in the air, Che's image imprinted on that deceiving flag, a deafening rampage of power chords and defiantly unorthodox guitar playing all ran through my head. Those few years I had with Rage were filled with an idealism thats become dormant, naivety I wish I still attained, and a resiliance thats come under fire. In no way am I asking to go back to those days; a man living in the past looks to no great future. But a past revisited should never be shun: especially if it's a kick ass band coming to play in your desert backyard.

Rage Against The Machine is scheduled to play Coachella Music & Arts Festival, Sunday April 29th 2007. I'm positive I'll have a ticket. I'm guaranteeing an exhilerating event. I'm promising myself I'll make it to that rail. It's time to kick out the jams mutha fuckas...

© 2005-2007 Citoyen du Monde Inc.™
Citizen192™
All Rights Reserved.

Indecision: Where Shall I End Up?

2007-01-11T12:28:00.000-08:00

I've been receiving a consistent flow of emails asking the million dollar question. Am I moving to New York City, or am I moving to Europe, (as previously planned)?

To clear things up once and for all, I'm not sure yet. I have a one-way ticket to Paris, France leaving Feb 12th that will probably be lost if I dont use it. Unfortunately, the ticket has extended and strict regulations, (probably the reason it was only $300), that include a "non-refundable/no credit allowed" policy that I shockingly discovered last week when I actually tried to cancel the trip.

I have simultaneously been looking at one-way tickets to NYC, and I am seriously considering moving there. Whatever I decide will be an adventure, considering that I'd either end up in Berlin, or NYC. I've never visited either so the senses will surely get a jolt. Now why would one cancel a trip to Europe?

There are many reasons. The most obvious: finances. I lose 1/4 of my money once I cross imaginary lines. I also have to deal with all the expenses of living alone. That sounds obvious, but there is one distinct detail explicitly unleashing my uneasy feelings on Europe: legal, working status. Could one manage in Europe working minimum, under-the-table, hand me down some work job? Of course. However, I'm looking to publish, independently finance, and run a magazine this year. I'm also looking to pay off some serious debt I've accumulated. So, the fact that a guaranteed job will not be waiting for me is a bit unnerving.

Simultaneously, there is a very distinct little voice cascading through my canals that keeps reciting "New York City..." With New York City, there are professional, creative, and cultural reasons that are influencing my decison making. I have a tendency to speak out towards Hemingway, Lorca, Stein, Hughes, etc for guidance. I usually rummage through bio's and such to see where their creative progressions led them and sure enough, New York City is usually the most influential on creative outbursts.

I'm definitely searching for something, but am also trying to embrace an intense challenge. It may sound odd, but Europe doesn't emit such a challenge anymore. I've managed to collect numerous ticket stubs with "Frankfurt, London, Charles de Gaulle" stamped across cardboard visages. Europe, entrenched in rich culture and history, is extremely appealing every time. However, I've grown discontent with my reasons for purchasing my ticket in August. It was all fantasy and a storybook adventure I was seeking. I'm not sure I want that anymore. Instead, I've realized I want in your face volatility. The kind that will buckle my knees, make my knuckles bleed, and force me to fight to survive. Earnestly, I want some urban fucking chaos. And NYC is amazingly enticing. Oh, did I mention it would probably be a lot easier for me to get a job to sustain my professional and recreational lifestyle?

I'll have to make my decision soon, considering I "leave for Europe" in exactly one month. I'll have to make a decision soon because a one-way ticket to NYC leaving Jan 30th is only $119 one way on ATA airlines. Yeah, I have to decide soon.

I'd truly love your feedback. Any pros and cons would be lovely. I actually value a great deal of your opinions, so if you don't mind. Un abrazo.

Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2007

Edumecated My Ass: B.A. massacre

2006-11-20T20:11:00.000-08:00

"I take sensors off coats and scan them", I stated to a friend.

Yeah, that's what my life has turned into as of late. Twenty-one thousand dollars in college loans over five years, a UCLA degree, and four years of managerial experience has granted me the opportunity to work for a company that thrives on cheap products and extraordinarily poor managerial development. I won't state publicly for whom I work for, but they are a powerhouse in the retail biz; and they have much to learn about co-operation.

For a quick synopsis as to why I am where I am: simply, assured income. Unfortunately, the market for a literature degree from a rather prestigious university, (most of that prestige is endowed to the progressive advancements of the science departments), is rather slim. As a self-proclaimed freelance-citizen of the world-gonzaagian-guerrilla journalist, my method of creating income to start a progressive magazine was, to be frank, pathetic. The facts are, I had no income.

So when I decided to buy a one-way ticket to Europe in order to take some initiative concerning my "project", I decided to take whatever it was I could get from a job and save the money I made. Well, that turned sour when I realized I was in mounds of debt. Instead, I began to funnel my earnings to various profiteers known as "credit cards", and slowly I began to chip away at "Europa trip 2003/2004", "Spring Break in Madrid 2005", and my favorite "Tamron 18-300mm wide angle/macro/telefoto lens." I want to stress that these were all necessary purchases. I use "necessary" as loosely as one can.

However, I find myself competing with a nagging debt, a rather stagnant job market, and an excessive potential that is slowly turning into desperate confusion. Mingle that with a bit of frustration and you've got a clear picture of my current situation. But you know what the most uncomforting fact I've confronted? I'm not alone. Thousands of college grads are entrenched in the same stagnant river bed. Why is this?

I'm rapidly realizing that society insists on compensating sheep. More specifically, the loan processor who tries to undermine the ethical practices of business 101 in order to score the quick high priced paycheck. The real estate agent who took a four hour course in order to gain a license that will relegate him or her to 1% of the market share. Yeah, society compensates the short term gainer. Us long term folk, we're not so enthusiastic about making 80,000 in one month. I correlate it to reading Sartre in a week. Is it intellectually responsible to massacre ideas without ever truly understanding them? Fiscal responsibility is on the same thread.

The explanation is in the constant I hear? "B.A.'s are like high school diplomas these days." That's right people. If you don't have the extra 65,000 to spend on grad school, that first 20,000 is lost. So while I'm trying to survive on what the market would say is "half" of my potential earnings, the guy who invested in that weekend course is now knee deep in Benjamins. But there's no need to be envious. "I'm above all that"", I tell myself.

I'll soon take the GRE's and most likely quit my current job in a matter of days. I'll be a little less in debt, but still careening down frustration alley. The good news? I'm a young, talented 20-something full of intricate metaphor and unrestrained grammatical flair. I think I'm a decent writer too. Watch out suckas, the "IV" will be on magazine racks before you know it.

Note: Alejandro is a self-proclaimed Vagabond and his only claim to fame is his ugly mug being captured on Rage Against The Machine's "Live at The Grand Olympic Auditorium" concert DVD. Just pause it on 3:07-3:08...:)

Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006
All Rights Reserved.
Citizen192™

Words: 'Merge'

2006-09-20T14:41:00.000-07:00

I merge. A calm seduction of flavors has propelled me into a solemn trance. I’ve been guided out of slumber by the soft sounds of Thievery. “Satyam Shivam Sundaram”, she pleads.

I’m caressed by waves of melodic silk. I’m paralyzed. It’s not involuntary. I’ve decided to indulge in the toxic harmony of a voice. Melody streams through my veins with the ferocity of a cobra: direct, aggressive, and overall, enchanting.

The scene shifts from the agrarian east to the urban west. I’m plunged into a deep trench. The echo of the sitar reverberates through the asphalt canals of a dungeon-like valley. Yet, it still feels like home.

East and West merge towards a greater sound: a bountiful product of a distinct and present evolution. Do you feel it? Has the silk wave caressed your reason? The great walls of imposition are falling. We are scattered lovers reuniting. We are evolution.

All Rights Reserved.

An Explanation For My Absence: & Technicolor Poetry

2006-09-16T00:23:00.000-07:00

Note: I want to note that there are many reasons why I haven't published in the last two months. The most obvious is the lack of time with editing. However, my mind's latest activity has correlated with the centrifuge: spinning with a constant direct intention and motive. I've been consumed with my ideals, and have entrenched myself in the confines of theory, execution, and deliverance of those ideals. I'm still writing, for all those interested and curious, and will begin publishing soon.

Technicolor Poetry

My canister filled with obscenities drips drips drips
on the asphalt below.

The high rise I'm standing on feels like
a row boat on your eccentric waves.

The asphalt becomes my canvas,
and my savior.

String quartets align the streets
to rejuvenate the robustness of my words.

A clash of a single cymbal resonates
throughout the world; asphalt waves are on the rise.
My obscenities begin to drip drips drop
to their ultimate destination.

Finality is an assumption.
The words live on beyond the gravel.

My canvas takes shape. The sun obliges.
The waves return. The men arise.
And there it is for all to see.
Every obscenity I’ve been known to keep.

It reads, "There is no place for borders in our time,
the world I seek is of culture undefined."

And it only takes a moment,
for a man to walk along the street with his own canister,
releasing a single word to adjust my army.
"Taboo", it reads and the world simply continues living.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2005™

Au Revoir Zidane

2006-07-10T15:26:00.000-07:00

Zidane: one of the most prolific and iconic figures of our generation has left the world of football for good. He left a legacy of excellence, skill, and charisma. No act could ever turn one of football's most cherished treasures into a villain. To declare a massacre of character and over a decade of greatness is preposterous.

Immediately, people have forgotten the destruction of integrity that Italy unleashed on football: a match-fixing scandal that exemplifies the scathing brutality and unburdened compromise of Italy's Il Calcio. I'd like to think that Zidane's act was a forceful blow upon the disgrace of Italy's game.

Zidane will never be a villain. His career was that of a true, humble champion. When the ash settles and the hillside begins to grow, people will recognize that he was the greatest of our time. Some say the greatest that ever played the game. His passion, work ethic, and modesty are pinnacles of what sport should be. The man exuded grace more than any other player in the history of the game. To stone him now would be a merciless act of arrogance and ignorance. To us true afficionado, you are everything Zidane. We thank you for the memories.

Zizou, gracias por todo.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006
All Rights Reserved.

Letter to Ronaldo: The Phenomenon

2006-07-01T20:15:00.000-07:00

Note: I clearly don't intend to send this to Ronaldo, but decided that an open "letter" would be the only appropriate way to critique the latest developments surrounding this player.

Ronaldo,

To commence, I send you my sincerest condolensces. Not for a failed World Cup appearance, but for the grief, that a man of your athletic stature and legacy, has had to endure throughout the year.

In a state of the most dire and shameful expressions of fickleness, futbol afficionados have condemned you to be housed in solitary confinement. A place designated only for sport's cheats. A place devoted to those that play with no heart, with no soul, and with no passion. A place reserved for the undignified, the ungrateful, and the egotistical.

Today, I denounce any form of spite towards you. In accordance with all futbol afficionados that cherish the sport; that cherish magic and fortune; that acknowledge when they've been in the midst of greatness; I salute you Ronaldo.

Though your country will be without a trophy this year, you've left all passionate fans with one of the most courageous performances to date. With all the ridicule, criticism, and defeat, you managed to silence the world with a record that not even futbol's "Rey" could deny as great. You are a treasure, a delight, a manifestation of excellence and greatness; and for that I am grateful to say I witnessed "the Phenomenon" in my lifetime.

Thank you.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

World Cup Fever: Part V: Week's Intoxication

2006-06-13T20:53:00.000-07:00

"Dark horses" and "upsets". The 2006 World Cup is proving to be a decadent display of unexpected sensations. Who would have thought that an unknown Ecuador squad would open their inaugural games with a defining 2-0 win over Poland? Who would have predicted an impassioned Trinidad & Tobago, with one man down, hold strong and steady Sweden to a goalless draw? Who would have truly predicted a games that has seen an intimidating English side, just get through Paraguay?

There's truly more to this game than rooting for the favorites. We've all assumed some form of excitement when the "big boys" come to the pitch. I've never deliberately tried to wake up before 6am for six consecutive days before, but last Saturday's first dawn match was enough to get the blood flowing early. Yet, this is the World Cup so why am I, or anyone surprised over such enthusiasm.

There have been some noteable performances, however, (minus Portugal, Argentina, and the Czech Republic), there really hasn't been a definitive performance that has dominated an onlookers attention. England looked irregular and unsure while trying to penetrate the Paraguyan defense; Sweden couldn't steer in a goal with any precision; France shot blanks once again for the second consecutive World Cup premiere; and if it wasn't for a valiant Mexico performance against a valiant Iran, I would say that most of the big names should be shivering in their cleats; even you Brasil.

I'm not trying to undermine the talent and achievements of any other participating nations, but nobody has given much thought to the other major part of the cup: the underdog. More than ever coming into this cup, I would hear the nagging assurances that Spain would go far this year, (a convincing 4-0 win against Ukraine today had my eyes reeling); that France would brighten up and find the 98' form; that England would reclaim the distinguished prestige that should be granted; and, of course, that Brazil should simply be handed the trophy.

After five days of waking up with bags under my eyes, and 14 games in the books, I've come to realize that I'm rooting more and more for that dreaded underdog. Togo and S. Korea exposed a volatile force, playing like champions looking for another trophy to stockpile in their exquisite museums and galleries. Wait, these teams don't have museums and galleries. I'm sure they hardly have fans outside of their countries, let alone a stadium people want to tour. But you know, teams like them and games like theirs, are making this World Cup a fabulous and exciting sport to watch.

I won't deny that I awoke ready to feel the light cloth of my Brazil jersey on my back, ready to samba the morning away. But just after 17 minutes of morning action from the Togo vs. S. Korea match (6am start time), Togo struck with a beautiful cross into the area, and striker Mohammad went far right to surprise the South Korean goalie. I raised both fists in a triumphant gesture, and shamelessly spread those arms wide and ran around my kitchen. Let me remind you, this was a goal from Togo. The intensity was relentless and both teams displayed a talent far beyond anything I think people expected. I even got a call from my friend Robert after the game, "did you see that Togo/S. Korea match?!" I did. And I'm glad I didn't miss it. South Korea went on to expose a deteriorating Togo defense, and scored two fabulous goals that led to their 2-1 win. Just where they left off in 2002.

Now if only the U.S. can get a clue and Mr. Arena can show a little zest, I'd feel a litter better about the first five days. However, the United States display Monday afternoon was disastrous to say the least. I was simply in dismay. Not entirely at the score, or the fact they lost. It was all expected. Yet, the way the U.S. played was pitiful. The team lacked any confidence. They categorized the term "quitter", and most astonishingly, their coach threw in the towel in the first half. Someone should tell Bruce that sitting quietly on the sidelines, looking uncertain and tranquilized, isn't the way things are done elsewhere. If he wants to prove that it's his way of doing things, I'd simply point to the 3-0 score and advise him to change his ways. No coach that sits on the sidelines can be respected. I just hope Italy didn't watch game one.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

World Cup Fever: Part IV: Day 1

2006-06-09T14:08:00.000-07:00

Germany vs. Costa Rica

A spectator's dream football day began with a furious battle between host Germany and the "Tecos" from Costa Rica.

In an interesting collage of images before the game, captain Michael Ballack and Oliver Khan were both on the bench for the opening match of the cup. I actually had my sights on witnessing, at the most, an upsetting draw. My notepad reads, "I'd like to see Costa Rica come out attacking. They have the upper hand, in the sense that Germany have so much more to lose. "Tecos" should take advantage of Ballack's absence, and try relentlessely to break the German defense."

However, the Germans roared towards the Costa Rican side with a 3rd minute strike over the crossbar by Frings, signaling their arrival. Just two minutes later, Lahm scored from about 17m out, curling a magnifiscent strike that gave the 1990 champs a 1-0 lead. After this, it's as though the Germans could smell blood, surging ahead consistently and penetrating much of a weak Costa Rican defense.

But in stunning fashion, "Tecos" striker Paulo Wanchope, cut through an offside trap and beat the impenetrable Lehmann to tie it up 1-1. The Arsenal goalkeeper looked bewildered by the fact that he was beat. I can tell you that I was just as stunned. His movements took him to the right, but as Wanchope cleared, he faked and went back to the left clearing the outstretched leg of Lehmann. The man who hadn't allowed a goal in 995 minutes of Champions League play was beat within 12 minutes of the first match.

The match proved intense, and just six minutes later, Klose put his first goal in of the match, leading the way to a 2-1 half.

In the second half, the Germans didn't ease up. In the 56th minute, Klose scored his second goal from close range, providing a commanding lead of the match. Yet, no one told the "Tecos" that the World Cup hosts were supposed to win. The 62nd minute witnessed a contraversial goal in which it appeared Wanchope was offside, again, but nevertheless was granted the goal that brought the Costa Ricans within one, leading to a 3-2 score. The crowd grew nervous and I actually began wondering if the "Tecos" could possibly pull of an upset draw.

Yet, the Germans had other plans, and German fullback Frings rocketed a strike from about 30m out, that will surely be considered a cup highlight. Definitely got me out of my seat screaming, "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL"; and I was cheering for Costa Rica! When it comes down to it, I simply love the game.

I have to admit, the Latin American contingent has my strongest cheer. When I'm not a "citizen of the world", (which is my ideology), my heritage and blood directs me to Mexico. The only time I'll truly be nervous in this tournament is when Mexico walks onto the pitch. However, I feel I owe it to all of those Hispanics around the country, and the world, that get shunned their own nationality by some ignorant folk who consider every Spanish speaker a Mexican. It's honestly the very least I could do. So, Costa Rica, Ecuador, Paraguay, Argentina, Brasil, (and we'll throw Trinidad & Tobago in there), I'm in your cheering section the whole way.

The Germans triumphed, and six goals later, I had ninety minutes of World Cup soccer under my belt and was ready for more.

Poland vs. Ecuador

I am still speculating who will be the "dark horse" of the cup this year. Friends have placed their talk on some interesting teams. The most obvious would probably be The Ivory Coast, led by Chelsea striker Didier Drogba. I'm not sure they'll fair that well in Group C, but I like that pick. However, the opening day did shed a vibrant light on one team: Ecuador. During the game I wrote, "It would be an interesting treat to possibly see Ecuador grab the second spot. If they can prevail over Poland, their chances are maximized considerably. Germany will surely take the top spot, but if Ecuador come out victorious today, the match to watch in Group A will be Costa Rica vs Ecuador."

The South American side shocked Poland with a 2-0 victory with goals from Carlos Tenorio and Agustin Delgado. The Ecuadorian defense was stifling, relegating Poland to a frustrating defeat that saw them waste chances and fall under some unfortuante luck with two pole strikes in the last ten minutes of the game. The football gods were definitely on the S. American side today. I don't know how they will fair with Germany, but if they can beat Costa Rica on the 15th of June, they may be an exciting addition to the round of 16. Keep your fingers crossed Hispano-America.

Tomorrow's matches:
·England vs. Paraguay @ 6am pt
·Trinidad & Tobago vs. Sweden @ 9am pt
·Argentina vs. Côte d'Ivoire @ 12pm pt

photos: Official World Cup site.
© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

World Cup Fever: Part III

2006-06-09T07:37:00.000-07:00

The World Cup has finally arrived and in less than two hours, hosts Germany will stride into Allianz Arena in Munich to take on a Central American elite, Costa Rica, in the first of 64 official matches to be played in Germany.

I awoke this morning beyond enthusiastic. With Univision obtaining official rights to this year's games, and my sincere preference in listening to a Spanish-speaking commentator providing the play-by-play, I tuned into "Despierta America's Edicion Mundial". The spirit of the people on screen was intoxicating. At this moment, I find myself grinning wildely and I've already sent out the necessary text messages, letting everyone know it's official: I've gone mad about this game. Live on Univision, Pele has just walked into the arena and the FIFA president's are only moments away from proclaiming the games officially begun.

It's a wonderful day in sport. Today the world unites to indulge in a sport that goes beyond sports; seducing and romanticizing the spirit and imagination of people from all walks of earth. Today we can imagine that everything will be solved on the pitch. When the world becomes desperate for unity and a break from destruction, futbol allows for a mystical world to expose itself on the pitch; evenly matched by sport, without borders or boundaries, guns or bombs. Every four years the world makes this game, more than a game. Today the globe is united under one roof, one goal, one dream.

One sport: 119 nations down to 32 finalists: 64 matches: 30 days: One Champion.

I love this game.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

World Cup Fever: Part II

2006-06-08T12:48:00.001-07:00

So what teams am I so excited to watch?

·It would be preposterous for me to negate Brazil. For those who have to be reminded, Ronaldinho is not only my favorite player in the world, but I'm willing to vouch that he's got about 1/3 of the world's population wrapped around his little finger. Not only am I thirsting for the Brazilian matches, but i'm actually ready to see them struggle a bit. Why? Because it's a game, and I won't settle for favorites. My passion is the sport and I like excitement. However, Brasil is a fury of excitement and intrigue, and the World Cup owes them tremendous gratitude for their style and flair.

With that said, three of my ultimate favorites to watch will be England, Spain, and of course, Mexico.

·The dynamic Brits are a tantelizing delight, having one of the most spectacular line-ups, composed from some of the best in the world. They exemplify a vivacious thrust towards the game that leaves them as one of the most feared in this year's cup. While recents reports suggest Wayne Rooney will participate in this year's cup, the attacking front of Crouch and Owen displays both versatility and authentic threat. This is a team extremely balanced, and if Gerrard's injury relents from worsening, a middlefield composed of Cole, Beckham, and Lampard and Gerrard will devastate opponents.

·Los Espanoles are always a treat for me because I admire their struggles and feverish hope. They always seem to abandon the cri tics and surge foreward. With a captain like Raul, the reigning captain of my beloved "merengue", the Spaniards have a fight and bite that all opponents are aware of. However, the stigma placed on them is that they always fall short because of a sluggish defense, or lack of communication in the midfield, and their strikers can never deliver. To say that the Spaniards will win it all may be a long shot. But Raul working the center midfield and choosing from "El Nino Torres" or Joaquin will be fantastic to watch. I'm eager to see any team penetrate the fortifide barrier of Puyol and Ramos. The Spanish have one of the most electrifying defenses in recent memory, and I know Iker (GK) will be ready for any challenge.

·Last is the magic of "El Tri." The tri-colored explosion of technical work, with the mesoamerican flair are ready for another fight this year. Not only do they have one of the most demanded defenders in the world, Rafael Marquez, but they have a defense that would make any buyer salivate with lust, (I can already see Real Madrid try and grab every defender on this team; rumor is they want Marquez). Ok I might be a little biased and blinded by an overwhelming hope, but they are my team. However, no one can underestimate their experienced players and tactical precision. At times they may look unstable, like a swarm of bees uprooted from their hive; but their set-pieces are lethal. Allow Borgetti to get his head on a corner and you're done. Don't be surprised if they put up a fight to the quarter-finals this year.

Yet, there is one lonestar that I hope performs to its upmost potential: USA.
It's apparent that futbol has made it in the United States. You'd be utterly ignorant and blind to think it's not here. However, with the rising crowds turning up for the MLS, and the talk of big European clubs visiting the states, (Barcelona and Real Madrid this year), the sport would gain so much more momentum if they did well. I await a day when Galaxy & Revolution games pack as many people as Dodgers and Yankee games. It's not as far-fetched as you think. All the sport needs is a little more thrust; and the US national team has the talent to make a lot of noise at this year's World Cup.

In other news:
·Mexico's goalkeeper, Oswaldo Sanchez, has left Germany for Mexico because of the unfortunate death of his father.

Notable injuries before the tournament:
·Cisse ruled out with broken tibia.
·Ballack out of first match with calf injury.
·Nesta out with thigh injury.

photos: Official World Cup site.
© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

World Cup Fever: Part I

2006-06-08T11:24:00.001-07:00

With only twenty-four hours until the first World Cup match officially begins, my anxiety and excitement have escalated considerably.

I want to say this will only be my third “conscious” World Cup. I vaguely remember the 94’ games, in which Brazil took the cup for the fourth time in history. I remember it vaguely because the games were held in the United States that year.

In 98’, interest and awareness of the World Cup completely escaped me. I couldn’t possibly tell you what my interests were at that age, but I don’t even recall any interest whatsoever. The 98’ finals saw Ronaldo and Zidane match up for one of the most mythical and controversial finals of the cup. I however, missed it.

In 2002, I was at the Sheraton Hotel in San Diego during the finals. By this time, my obsession was obvious and overwhelming. I awoke from a drunken stupor around 3am to watch the game live. I remember screaming so loud when Ronaldo scored the second goal that my friend Mike stumbled out of bed, struggling to identify the reason for the outburst.

It was during the early years, (before the 2002 World Cup), that I felt two forceful emotions towards futból: animosity and spite. I remember always having this notion that it was bad for a Mexican to like or play futból because somewhere, at a young age, I was conditioned to think so. I’m sure it was some hideous racial stereotype that had infiltrated my persona. I know this for a fact because I was never even introduced to the game.

My life consisted of only one sport: baseball. And it was hardly by choice. I remember at the age of 11, my baseball league lacked the funds to continue that year, so for the first time in 8 seasons I didn't play, (I began playing for Santa Rosa Little League when I was three because my parents knew the president; even though I was a whole year too young to play). I have to admit, it was devastating at first. Yet, I realized that I had more free time to explore other hobbies. Remember, this is truly before video games were an addiction. I’d like to think that my generation was the last pure generation. We still played on the streets after dark, indulged in a basketball game instead of slamming our opponents on our XBOX, and we liked to sweat. With no baseball practice or Saturday morning games, I looked to books and writing. I tried other sports at the park and came to find I wasn’t a bad athlete at all. Yet, futból escaped me.

In those years, I envied children who played futból. The animosity was so strong that I never even touched a [soccer] ball until high school. Why did I feel this way? I was thoroughly confused by those emotion but at such a young age, I knew I was out of the global loop. I was outside the world and I recognized it. I was aware of what the World Cup meant; on how many continents the game was played; and for magical moments at a time, the game could change the world. So I lashed out at the sport that I couldn't accept. While the world was eating from the main dish, I was unaware my scraps were scraps.

The allegiance and passion people placed on futból was so tremendous that I could always feel it surging towards me, wanting to abduct my psyche, and seduce my primitive being. I wanted to be a part of this world for so long; and it wasn’t until I moved to Spain, that I finally mended the division between myself and the sport I’ve grown to love. I was no longer subject to any ridicule or stereotype because there, in Spain, it was the norm. I dismissed those generalizations and buried the stigmas in the dirt. I rose to appreciate the purity, spontaneity, and charisma of the game.

For once, I had truly felt that I had mended any severed ties with the world. I was now coalesced with the global spectator; united by the sensation of the "world's sport". I had made peace with a part of the world I didn't understand. This simple and beautiful game had brought me closer to the world.

Clinch and Clasp: Where Would We Be...?

2006-06-06T14:15:00.000-07:00

In an irresponsible display of machismo last night, I managed to dislocate my thumb when I wrestled my friends' friend to the ground. A dangling thumb is what I received for my antics.

I'm a "righty". The dislocated thumb is on my right hand. I play guitar, write extensively throughout the day, and hold my camera with my right hand. I press the space bar with my right thumb. When I play my conga drums, I have this unusual tendency to slap my right thumb on the snare right after a palm slap. It makes for an interesting unorthodox style. Some guy's I played music with in Spain marveled at the unusual strike. When I play flamenco, my thumb acts as the percussion instrument. It strikes the body of my beloved in syncopation with the rasquiados, revealing a fluidity of beats entrenched in tradition. Without my thumb, there is no music in my life.

I shift gears with my right hand. I need my thumb to release my parking break. I never realized until today that I snap the seat belt buckle into its rightful place, all with my right thumb.

Today I realized how painful and frustrating it was to eat cereal. I never realized how difficult it was to button my pants. I consistently grimaced when I brushed my teeth this morning. I'll spare you the details about my bathroom trip.

For so long I took my thumbs for granted. These pudgy, tentacles of evolutionary progression, have allowed us fortunate bearers to grasp, clutch, grip, clinch, clasp, (no thesaurus needed), our way to the zenith of the evolutionary ladder. Where would we be without our thumbs? Maybe I should nurture them a little more. As children we would suck them, point them to the heavens in triumph, and congratulate each other on the baseball field with an emphatic "thumbs up". We would even play games that made our thumbs the epicenter for excitement: your thumb is lowered, and you've been chosen. Maybe I shouldn't scold my niece for sucking her thumb. Her thumbs might not let her down like mine did.

I know for certain that the next few days will be a plight. Strumming my guitar this morning was truly painful, but I delight in the idea that I can express truth heartedly that today's creations were spawned from pain. I just hope I don't have to curse someone with that most revered Italian gesture.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™

Memories Erased: A Los Angeles Tradition.

2006-06-03T14:02:00.000-07:00

I remember a time when early Saturday mornings consisted of a trip to the garment district in Downtown Los Angeles with my parents. No Saturday morning cartoons, or trips to the ballpark. I remember specifically recognizing that if I was "good", there was no way my parents would deny me a "G.I. Joe" action figure, or new plastic play gun with lights that flashed when the trigger flaired. Saturdays in Downtown also meant I would devour some deliciously ice cold mango-cucumber-jicama fruit mix, all topped off with salt, lemon, and some chili powder.

I remember being around eight years old and enthralled by the myriads of shoppers in the filthy, sewage laced alleyways of the garment district. Shouts and exclamations of all kind, that made absolutely no sense to me, were both terrifying and appealing. I would always steer close to my father's hip when a congested hoard of garment reapers approached; but now and again I would stray towards a shiny metallic gun, or "poppers 2/$1" sign and give my dad a little tug and a glance saying, "please?"

These days were usually exhausting, but I treasured them dearly. I knew it was different than what my other friends were doing and I had pride in it. By noon I would be carrying my newly purchased toy. One time it was a tiny turtle in a blue clear "turtle tank." When my father's arms became invisible, covered by the countless black and blue plastic that held my mother's garments, I knew it would soon be time to head off. The trip was routine: the same shops, the same garment sellers, the same ladies and their fruit stands. And it was a tiny garment shop near the corner of Hill St & Olympic Blvd. that signaled the end of the day was near.

With the sun cascading towards nature's denoument, the streaking rays of light breaking through the smog infested skies, the remaining sunlight would hit a tall, caucasian man on a building façade near the shop. I always wondered who he was. "Who painted a man and his shadow", I thought. Every Saturday we paid him a visit when my mom went to that garment shop on Hill St. Everytime I asked the same question. And it wasn't until I was much older that I researched to find it was the work of muralist Kent Twitchell.

Friday June 2, 2006, someone painted over the famous mural. Someone erased a part of Los Angeles' memory, my memory, and anyone else who invested in this image. At a time when there is talk of demolishing Bugsy Seigel's historic "Florentine Gardens" nightclub, and possibly tearing down the Capitol Records building on Vine St., Los Angeles is facing a sincere crisis: a meltdown of tradition, identity, and loyalty.

Chalk white façades and concrete sancturaries are all we're guaranteed in this treasonese city: a drab and mundane future if you ask me.

photo by: Robin Dunitz

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

LA Film Fest: June 22nd-July 2nd

2006-05-28T11:49:00.000-07:00

With the LA Film Festival coming June 22nd-July 2nd, I thought I'd post some articles I had written for last year's AFI Fest on this site. If you've never attended one of the many cinematic extraveganzas throughout the year, make some time for this summer's fest. You'll come to find the modern cinephile as passionate as ever, engaging in the sublime practice of aesthetic indulgence. If that doesn't fit your bill, grab a Hebrew National Hot Dog, some popcorn, and have a good time.

Cinema, Aspirin and Vultures: A Film by Marcelo Gomes

By Alejandro De La Cruz

Contrast: check 1, 2. Contrast: check 1, 2.

The rediscovery of naivety within the human spirit is comforting to a society bombarded by the immediate gratification of knowledge. However, we’ve lost a portion of innocence somewhere. Yet, filmmakers all across Latin America have prescribed an order of cinema that penetrates memories bound to a time of great hope and great suffering: a contrast projected only by the courageous. Director Marcelo Gomes is an example of that bravery.

Upon arrival, I couldn’t help but adhere to the atmosphere the filled seats created. The emotion and enthusiasm of the audience brightened the screen before anything had been projected. The stir was a hint of the beauty I was to experience. This aroma had been constant throughout the festival this year. Maybe it was the scent of a cinematic stew that induced a hunger that this freelance journalist yearned. Maybe it was the fact that Rick Ruben had brushed my shoulder in the crowd outside. Perhaps it was merely hope.

Wherever the excitement manifested, it was clear, strong, and obviously present. This year, the Latin film contingent has reveled, marveled, and quenched the hearts of audiences. Brilliant cinematography, minimalist storytelling, and a desire to disrupt the pompous flow of Hollywood filmmaking, caressed a crowd of cinephiles into believing there is hope left in cinema. Maybe this whole festival is about hope; the ability to change course in the face of adversity. Cinema’s adversity today is simply not looking like a raging whore.

Hear me out for a second. Hollywood manipulates the masses by supplying a fictional world enveloped by tragedy and disgust, while never alleviating the human imagination’s attempt to indulge in something hopeful. They aspire to show greatness and leave you mummified; stripped of all your natural organs; an imagination vanquished, and the audience stuffed with depression; a schizophrenic society if you ask me.

However, I have hope. You can find it abroad; in the outskirts of the world; in the arid wonderlands that Hollywood deems unworthy of exploration. Without question, you can find hope in this film.

Cinema, Aspirin and Vultures is the first feature film from director Marcelo Gomes. Winner of the Prix de Education Nationale at the 2005 Cannes Film Festival, the film is a venture into the everlasting hope that converging paths can coexist within a time of great distress and profound technology. The story is a blend of two characters searching for a new way of life, while dealing with the dense differences in their culture and personalities.

Set in 1942, the film represents the human spirits finest attribute: tolerance. “Johann” is a German man who has fled the tumultuous atmosphere of war-torn Europe, and has taken it upon himself to deliver a new found medicine, known as Aspirin, to the rural sites of Brazil. Along the way he encounters the blistering “outback” of North-East Brazil, and to his fortune meets a man named “Ranulpho.” The two characters endeavor to reach the grand city of Rio, and along the way they infiltrate the dreams of rural peasants with a new technology known as cinema. Fleeting pictures and amazing images enchant the arid land of Brazil and a quenching of the imagination is left behind. The film is a testament to the innocence within an imagination lost forever.

A portrait filled with breathtaking shots and insightful dialogue, Cinema, Aspirin and Vultures intertwines the harmony of multiculturalism at a time when the world struggles to identify with identity. How relevant is this piece in the world today? It simply couldn’t have come at a better time. The film’s character is defined by authentic music from the 30’s and 40’s. The colloquial slang, jokes, and stories establish a profound realism that adds to the overwhelming charm of the film. This is a creation of brilliantly shot images fleeting away from you and returning back again, placing the audience in “Louvre-like” hallway of Renaissance, where your eyes roam everywhere in a daze; marveled by profound beauty. Yes, the film left my eyes yearning for more.

Cinema, Aspirin and Vultures is a declaration of hope towards a future categorized by passion, rather than indifference. The 21^st century arrived in upheaval, and has struggled to embody the essence of unity. This film takes you back to a time battling with similar experiences. It is a valid testament to the idea that we can learn from history; and rediscover ourselves in the past.

The movie will be screened for the last time Saturday, Nov 12^th at noon. AFI Film Fest 2005 ends Nov 13^th.

"Tattooed": A film by Eduardo Raspo
by Alejandro De La Cruz

"Broken guitar strings: forgotten..."

The distinct product of a nation's history rests upon the fundamental significance of their culture's past. The clash between memories unleashed and truth bestowed empowers a society to rediscover the perplexing mixture of misery and hope within their society. Distinctively, cinema represents a type of medium that unleashes an arsenal against the metaphorical walls that we, as a society, tend to build against art. In a brilliantly exposed "minimalist" style, "Tattooed" extends the arena of a country's "social welfare", while inviting the audience to witness a piece of humanity that is never easy to confront: the truth revealed within a nation's past.

I've been profoundly impressed with the magnitude of each Latin Series film I have seen at this year's festival. "Tattooed", a film by acclaimed director Eduardo Raspo, is a portrait of the tumultuous relationship between memory and truth. The relationship underscores the touching story of a father and son coping with the residual effects of a mother lost. Simplistic in composition, the film's dynamic confrontations and encounters with the harsh truth of a past forgotten, illustrates the debilitating effects of love forever lost. A mixture of constant movement intertwined with the strange arrangement of Paco, his girlfriend, and his father, establishes that this film is the epitome of how large a crater can be created through such a minimalist drama.

The story's epicenter is found within the longing of a young man named Paco and his intent to decipher a peculiar tattoo of a mongoose biting a snake. Inscribed on his forearm by his mother at the tender age of three, Paco struggles to identify the truth about his mother's sudden abandoning. The desire to eradicate the lack of truth in his life compels the young man to leave his renewed family, and abandon all relations in order to believe in something real. The teenage boy encounters the harsh truth that the memories he has treasured for so long, may have been conjured up by the misery of growing without a mother. Inevitably, the boy's choice proves pivotal in the reconstruction of his youth; as well as the strengthening of a bond with his father.

Let's take this out of the immediate vicinity of visual stimulation, dialogue, and brilliant acting. Within this film, director Eduardo Raspo attempts to meticulously extract the subjugation of a nation's history, in this case Argentina, and represent the clash between the legacy of dictatorships and truth within the story of this boy. The signifiers are subtle, but poignant; and remarkably intriguing.

I believe it may be a stretch, yet the film cannot be viewed without a governing social awareness tapping you in the back of the head, directing your senses to the subtle instances within the film that are there for the purpose of disclosing a story about a nation. One example lies within the strange accounts that Paco's girlfriend recites with ease. Stories of cults, witch men, and citizens forgotten on rural roads and towns speak to the darker side of Argentina's history; i.e., dictatorships and totalitarian governments.

There is no involuntary suggestion here. Director Eduardo Raspo creates a simple plot that speaks dynamically to the story of the young boy, while supplying an underscore to the reality that there are certain social issues within Argentina that have gone unnoticed. Maybe it is the duty of every nation to discovery an inner desire; one in which the brunt force of that desire will be directed towards searching for a lost identity abandoned by the consequences of overzealous leaders that have manipulated history in order to reconstruct the story of a nation. Remember, you are reading this in Citoyen du Monde Inc.

It is not so strange to think that nation's have gone to monumental lengths to extinguish one truth and reinvent another; all in an effort to manipulate the truth that is bestowed upon the masses. Is this film a far cry from ousting this way thinking? I think not. And I don't believe I've missed any obvious point in the film. If you think this, I will suggest that you have underestimated the brilliance of Latin America's filmmakers: they embrace their nations like a writer with his muse.

Could the mother's disappearance, fourteen years before, symbolize the upheaval of the social construct in Argentina? There is much more to look into. Yet, it is undeniable that director Eduardo Raspo has courageously embraced a piece of Argentina’s soul and allowed the world, at least for a moment, to gaze in and ponder.

© 2005-2006 Citoyen du Monde Inc.™

Literary Paralysis: Writing in Los Angeles

2006-05-22T11:09:00.000-07:00

I don't drink coffee. Rarely have. When I tread the path of caffeine afficionados, I only end up with a shiver and sweat that feels more like an excursion through a torture test; hardly a satisfying sensory experience. However, working on a novel in Los Angeles, and without much to inspire me in the San Fernando Valley, I usually pack up and head to the eclectic caffeine institutes on the Eastside in order to dislodge myself from the suburban-fever, resembling the Dengue Fever and Bird Flu: all incurable and extremely devastating. I feel that my escape will allow some flutter of monumental revelations of fiction that will ultimately revamp my state as an artist. It's something I actually hope each and every day. However, I've recently realized that my intimate relationship with Los Angeles has left me, once again, spiting the mecca for merging cultures.

I can't lie, my disdain and anguish in this city is finally taking it's toll on my writing. Profoundly optimistic and consciously in tone with a magical realism that Borges would appreciate, my loathing and frustration with Los Angeles has left me impaired, desolate, and intellectually sheared to the bone. My writing has taken me to the zenith of self-depricating-"Eliot"-ness that causes my lungs to cringe, my stomach to convulse, and my brain to scatter.

At this point, I may sound like i'm suffering from some delusional self-imposed habitual institutionalisation of sorts, but my escape to cafes is correlated in the fact that a cafe has been an institution for the loathing for centuries. Now instead of absynthe, we have latte. Yet, it is the decor of a cafe that has led me to inhabit the noisy, dimly lit, warmth you find. Usually, the withering wallpaper of an establishment in Los Angeles will be highlighted with a native's colorful collage; a nude seduced by a warm cascade of soft tones, then slahed with a black streak across her neck; left smiling in the midst of decapitation: "Artwork by, Unknown. Price: $250."

I read a column in the Los Angeles Times last month praising Los Angeles' "disconcern" for novel writers, which inevitably leaves "us" with a priceless privacy allocated only to lepors and the poor. It is a privacy I cherish, but I ask, at what cost? The robotic redundancy of this city's movement, a synthetic blend of cultural awareness and merger clogging the poetic valves that were my lifeline, has now distanced my writing from the anatomical reality that was infused in my words. The tangible nature of my writing is deprived of that illustrious poetic oxygen that no writer can live without: the muse. Consequently, Los Angeles has proved to be a mother who feeds me, clothes me, shelters me; but neither speaks to or loves me. She has left me unearthed, but with no direction. Strangely, I'm struggling to find inspiration from my point of origin. I'll simply continue to indulge in a cafe's wallpaper until I find enough strength to leave again; until the absynthe taps begin to flow again.

·Photo by Man Ray: [Merret Oppenheim-1933]

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

World Sport: ¡Barça! European Champions

2006-05-17T19:36:00.000-07:00

In a tense and pulsating match, the Champions League delivered it's 50th champion: FC Barcelona. The Catalan side took the game by its horns in the latter stages of the match when Cameroon striker Samuel Eto'o cleared his way to the net and snuck a suave touch pole-side to find the equaliser. Then, as so many watched around the world, Frank Rijkaard's late substitute Belletti, crashed through the right side catching a delicate Larsson pass, and in stunning fashion, delivered the winning goal as Barcelona held on to win it's 2nd title.

However, the 1st half witnessed a "first" in the European Cup's history. Arsenal goalkeeper Jens Lehmann was sent off in the 18th minute for a professional foul on Samuel Eto'o, leaving Arsenal wounded for the remainder of the game. The ten-men squad maintained a rigorous pace thereafter; and in the 37th minute, Sol Campbell's magnifiscent header created a stirring rejuvenation on the English side, setting the Londoner's 1-0 heading into the half.

Eventually, the loss proved too great and the volatile Spanish side proved the critics right, winning a match that won't soon be forgotten.

The Hype

I decided to wake up quite early because I simply couldn't hold in the excitement any longer. My friend Jesse decided he would endure his hangover and trek down to Lucky Baldwin's in Pasadena with me so I wouldn't have to scream and binge drink alone. At the least, I awaited a raucous crowd of Arsenal faithful at the English pub, and I was correct. However, there were numerous Barça fans within the mix that added that much needed tension and anxiety factor. I chose the balcony section because eventually I wanted an overhead view of the growing crowd below; but the television screen on the balcony level was the most frustrating experience on my eyes. It was too late to move and we all dealt with it.

The ensuing events of the match were exhilerating. From Henry's 3rd minute run to Lehmann's "send off", to Campbell's header and Belletti's go ahead goal, the match proved to be a great delight. Now there is only World Cup action to look forward too. All the major European clubs have been put to rest and while I await a Mexican triumph come July 9th, (very optimistic if you didn't notice), I have the next week's signings to hold me over: Pires to Villareal, Ballack to Chelsea, Schevshenko to Chelsea, and Henry to [?]. We'll wait and see where the great Frenchman ends up. My guess is the Camp Nou.
¡Ciao!

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

¡We're all from Barcelona!

2006-05-16T19:04:00.000-07:00

Enjoy.

The Dream Finale: Arsenal vs. Barcelona

2006-05-16T16:49:00.000-07:00

Football purists call it "The Dream Final."

With less than twenty-four hours remaining until the grand finale of this year's Champions League, the two most anticipated teams to face each other in this 50th anniversary of UEFA have unveiled little before the match. Barcelona have kept Messi's addition to the line-up an uncertainty, and Cole's addition to Arsenal's squad has many wondering how much more powerful the English squad can get. It's no secret that all eyes will be on Arsenal FC's Thierry Henry and FC Barcelona's Ronaldinho. The two competitor's carry a fierce attitude on the pitch, leaving everyone wondering who will prevail in one of the most anticipated finals in history.

With Zidane retiring from professional football after this year's World Cup, my attention has gravitated overwhelmingly to the charismatic Ronaldinho. His samba-sensation is, without a doubt, the most electrifying football anywhere in the world. That is why I await a Barcelona triumph, but still applaud Arsenal FC to making their first ever Champions League Final. Without a doubt, it will be a treat to see such a match. The football gods are exposing two of their greatest creations, and the pitch will truly be paradise for ninety sensational minutes. Yes, I'm expecting something fabulous.

In other news: Real Madrid dropped their last game, and Zidane's last club game today to FC Sevilla 4-3. However, Osasuna prevailed over a weakened Valencia, and the "Merengue" held the second position in La Liga, automatically qualifying them to the group stages of next year's Champions League tournament.

Tomorrow's Champions League Final between FC Barcelona and Arsenal FC can be seen on ESPN2 & ESPNDeportes @ 230ET/1130PT. Live from Le Stade de France in Paris, France.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

Radiant Tones & Ears Full of Glory: My Summer Concert List

2006-05-15T22:28:00.000-07:00

Concerts I will attempt to attend in the next few months:

5.18.06-Gecko Turner: Knitting Factory

6.13.06-She Wants Revenge: Wiltern Theater
6.17.06-Seu Jorge: El Rey Theater
6.24.06-Fiona Apple & Damien Rice: Greek Theater/or
6.24.06-Amadou & Mariam: El Rey Theater
6.25.06-Sergio Mendes: Hollywood Bowl

7.06.06-Belle & Sebastian: Hollywood Bowl
7.12.06-Latin Jazz Series: Hollywood Bowl
7.23.06-Flaming Lips & Thievery Corporation: Hollywood Bowl

8.03.06-Bloc Party & Broken Social Scene: Greek Theater
8.04.06-8.06.06-Lollapalooza: Grant Park, Chicago: Manu Chao, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Kanye West, Death Cab for Cutie, Broken Social Scene, Wilco & more.
8.13.06-Bob Marley: Roots, Rock, Reggae Fest: Hollywood Bowl
8.27.06-Gotan Project, Zero 7, Jose Gonzalez: Hollywood Bowl

9.24.06-Massive Attack & Tv On The Radio: Hollywood Bowl

If accomplished, will be one of the most productive summers to date.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

Film Review: "Goal!:The Dream Begins"

2006-05-13T11:42:00.000-07:00

This film is a wonderful testament to giant dreams. Set in the high contrast of Los Angeles, Ca & Newcastle, England, "Goal!:The Dream begins" sets the sensational world of football, aka soccer, on the big screen, inviting many young and old, to follow the dream of a young man, "Santiago Munez", ( played by Kuno Becker), pursuing a once in a lifetime shot at making a giant European club.

My decision to watch the film was a landslide, considering the majority of my readers and friends know I'm a futbol afficinado. My intensity and passion for the sport is actually meager compared to some of my futbol compatriots. Learning that this film would be the first of three parts, I was eager to see in which direction director Danny Cannon would take the film. Though I was somewhat cautious of how, if you will, "cheesy" the film might be, I was joyously surprised at the depth of character, plot, and "real" drama the film exposed. However, don't expect any more than heartwarming sensability and some great action. The story is comprised to elicit a mood of hope and promise, and it succeeds plenty.

Though such a situation within the premise of the movie may almost be slim-to-never having a shot at probability-fiction, the essence of hope the movie embraces is a valid reason to take a young nephew or niece, brother or sister, or any soccer fan for that matter, to watch the film: (Beckham, Raul, and Alan Shearer make some nice cameos, and I almost jumped out of my seat when I saw Zidane on the big screen. I'm still a kid at heart when I see my heroes).

I happen to believe that futbol is the purest sport on earth. There is nothing else like it that involves fair play, mesmerizing action, and a worldwide obsession. It's a game embraced on almost every continent; favored as a national past-time by countless nations; instituted as the only institution to follow. This film, especially in America, can do wonders for youngsters searching for a dream; searching for a global art that children across all plains can share. The film is a wonderful addition to this year's family film selections, and will leave children yearning for a soccer pitch.

Showtimes across Los Angeles.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

Zidane Farewell

2006-05-07T12:26:00.000-07:00

An impressionable young man once stood in awe of a most memorable goal in 2002, in which a sensational futbolista, known to his enthusiasts as "Zizou", volleyed his way into the heart and soul of the man in awe.

I was that man.

Never before had I gravitated to such an athlete like I have Zinedine Zidane. The mystique of the "gran maestro" revolutionized the way in which I percieved sport, competition, and the grace of an athlete. Since the moment he cemented his legacy in Champions League folklore, I never once commented on his game, bad-mouthed a bad pass, or became ungrateful at a missed shot. His greatness was blatant and it has been a great fortune to see him play in my lifetime.

Zidane is, and will forever be pure "class". His legacy is without blemish; a champion throughout his career. He has exemplified the essence of sportsmanship and talent. Not to see the great numero 5 stride on the pitch in "el blanco" will be an odd sight. Futbol will be losing a great player this year.

Zizou, gracias por todo!

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

Debilitating Contemplation: A Citizen's Perspective V.1

2006-05-01T11:30:00.000-07:00

It's been an agonizing few days. In one hand, I've obtained a profound sense of respect and appreciation for those that voice their opinions today. On the other hand, I can't help but realize the distance I have from those protesting today. The simple scenario resides within my devoted perspective: I'm a citizen of the world, and thus allocate no intellectual sympathy towards what is known as "The American Dream." The reasons: mainly I believe that such propoganda does not truly exist. Like many hypochondriacs, the American population has been careless about their cultural health and have determined the system, and not their own will, to have brought them their success. Secondly, I only adhere to global dreams. An isolated countries gloating only leads to a detriment in the global psyche.

My own immigrant story is of the consistent variety. I am a citizen by birth of this country, but my parents came as documented immigrants from Tijuana, Mexico (but are originally from Jalisco). I hear the late 60's were a bit more leniant on border-crossers. The American Dream was thriving, and cheap labor was as vibrant as the orange fields across the San Fernando Valley. As a whole, there were five De La Cruz brothers who were determined to fulfill an American Dream of their own. As a complete family, the five De La Cruz brothers managed to gain enough financial stability to invest in a company, that only up until the last few years, provided enough to send children to private schools, European excusions, and at least one son to a major university. In a span of almost four decades and only one generation, they had managed to thrive.

However, the first generation to come, myself included, sought to understand. I grew up understanding little of my identity. My allegiance to a nation was blurred constantly, and at an early age I denounced the idea of patriotism about the same time I denounced Catholicism. My ties to given ideologies and opinions were severed swiftly when I read Orwell's 1984. That was at age 14.

Being a first-generation Mexican-American mestizo has been a rough rout. Traditions were few and far between. Consequently, there was never a poignant theme in my life, so I had to create one out of instinction and distance, leaving me wandering alone philosophically for a few years. Inevitably, I committed to no one, but I fought for everyone: a contradictorial paradox heightened in the last few months. I almost feel like telling the protesters today that the tradition they yearn to accept as their own, here in these Unites States, is one of corruption, segregation, class struggle, and a diminishing balance between pride and tradition. I want to tell them to stop marching because their children will only grow to despise the future migrant, alienate a previous generation, ostracize tradition; and these beautiful children will be exposed to a cultural paint-thinner that will atrophy their native tongue.

I guess I'm tired of the consequences. I respect a desire for a better living; but the sacrifice of beautiful tradition and culture is too great. Whether from the depths of Africa, to the shores of the Indian Sea; from the vast lands of Asia, to the thriving state of Europe; from the turbulence of South America, to the closest southern border; The only truth is that an arrival here is directed towards becoming American, leaving all true value behind. That's a price too high for me.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

Restaurant Review: Neptune's Net: Malibu, Ca

2006-04-17T21:09:00.000-07:00

So you're cruisin' on PCH wondering where to get a bite. You haven't realized that LA County Line is long gone because you're mesmerized by the kite-surfers near Leo Carrillo, and suddenly you've got the urge to pull over and relax. Just in case you are "planning" this accident, pack a little white wine and some plastic cups so you can sit back at Neptune's Net, while munchin' on some delicious calamari & chips.

This brilliant seafood hotspot has been a Malibu delight for years. I've been sulking in their deliciously fried battered calamari & shrimp since 1999, but only recently have I directed my attention to their fresh fish variety. Whatever you choose, you are guaranteed a savory sensation, all thanks to the coast right across the way. From grilled Salmon to baskets full of finger-licking fried shrimp, clam, and calamari, you can get a meal that makes up for the long drive. A half-pint of clam chowder is a great start, and it's a creamy delight that contends with it's Northern Californian counterpart. Neptune's is located North, right after the Ventura County Line off of Pacific Coast Highway. If you're coming from LA, you're definitely going to want your money's worth. And honestly, thats what this place gives you.

The dishes aren't fancy. Don't expect fine dining Malibu-Gladstones sort of service; or even plastic plates for that matter. Expect bikers, tradition, atmosphere that is intoxicating, and some extreme leisure. You can drink on the porch, sit by an ocean that people admire across the globe, and if you can withstand the Andy Gumps, you'll love this place like I do. I'll be honest, I enjoy the food as much as the lifestyle this place exhibits.

Here you will find tanned banadana wearing bikers that pull over for a cold brew and fried fish, sulking in a Southern California sun that is both admired and envied. Patrons pull out their bottles of Chardonnay and dig into 1lb of delicious fresh jumbo shrimp. Families heading home from a day long excursion to the coast make a quick stop, sharing mounds of the ocean's delicacies. You might even run into a champion surfer or two. This gem is all about leisure, good food, and an amazing view. If you're up for that, you'll chow down on the fried baskets with ease.

· Weekends busy
· Visa/Mastercard Accepted

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

Sleeping Without A Ribcage: Elbow @ The Avalon

2006-04-09T14:58:00.000-07:00

"I could as well have been hearing Hallelujahs."

Elbow dropped by Los Angeles for the first time in a few years, and it was to an audience waiting to recieve an iconic spiritual renewal: an audience exposed entirely to the seduction of lyrical ballads that exfoliated the most hardened soul; an audience set to sedate the sheet metal dreams that had been menacing for so long, only to reach towards a warmth and sweetness bare in truth and sound. Truthfully, that's what it felt like near the front row. I couldn't help but turn to my friend Brian and utter, "I feel like i'm at a Christian rock concert." I'm as confused as you reader because I've yet to decipher my feelings about that one; but it was an interesting evening of music.

The band's show at the famous Avalon, (formerly known as the Palace), proved to resonate the most hardened fact in popular music: the best band's come from the U.K. Their charismatic performance, lead by Guy Garvey, showcased an infiltration of the ethereal sound that I feel many electronic heads yearn for. I'm sketched to use the word "heavenly", but it's almost too appropriate. It's probably why I felt that Christian-esque atmosphere within the crowd. Nonetheless, I'll simply state that they are amazing live. End of story.

Yet, what stuck to me the most was their impression upon the crowd and their most unlikely story. Having been dropped by two major labels to begin their career, they've managed to maintain an exhuberant optimism that is both delightful and inspiring. Moments of playful banter with the crowd was the equivalent of saying, "Thank you. Thank you for coming out to see us."

There was even a moment in which Guy pulled out a list of what he called "the announcements", and proceeded to send out personal greetings to four individuals in the crowd. I've always enjoyed when band members really take into consideration the fact that "we", the ticket-buyer, want to not only witness a fabulous performance, but be amused to the idea that the audience is important. Without it there would be no show. How do I take my ackowledgement? A little story-telling, mixed with some dive-bar humor, while reciting what some blogger left on the band's website that "they", the bandmembers, actually took the time to read. It's good to know a band can realize they are of flesh and...

That leads me to the question of why it is so necessary to attribute an iconic persona to an artist. Why is this necessary in a world in which religious fervor is at it's peak, and in a time where the most dysfunctional products of elite society are determined role models, that we as a society want to nudge a perfectly dignified rock band to heights of godliness? What is this urge to construct certain pedastals? I ask sincerely because I witnessed a band that was reaching the heights of that distinguished category. Towards the end of the show, I imagined the scenario in which Q magazine would incite the ultimate plunge towards putrefaction for this group. A caption possibly reading: "The Next British Takeover: Elbow." Well, if it hasn't happened now, it probably wont. But be forewarned, I have the most horrific nack for being right about these things. Coldplay was my first call, and Chris has never let me down. Though I love them bastards, to call yourself the greatest band ever is not easy to swallow. I bet Lennon wanted to slap him from his grave. Imagine that.

Elbow's latest album, "Leaders of the Free World", is available through V2 Records.

Earlimart

Opened up for Elbow. Amazing sound. Check them out. I'll be writing about them soon.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

Jaded-sphere Goes Round

2006-04-04T22:33:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was comprised of many episodes of intense dialogue between some really good friends of mine. The conversations ranged from a citizens' reactions towards a given political climate, the difference between "shit talking" and "constructive criticism", and my take on nationalism, (the last always being my favorite to discuss).

In between all that, my friends and I discussed what might possibly become of our mid-20's. I've come to find that a vast majority of my compatriots, (and I use that term in a versatile way, considering my "fellow countrymen" includes a wide variety of non-patriots), are in as much of a bind concerning career, destination, and options etc, as I am. Apparently, I'm not the only one mangled by the frightening reality of turning 25. It sounds so refreshing to say out loud, as I just did. Anyhow, most of you may know by now that I've finished my application for Peace Corps. It's been a thought provoking topic for months. I've managed to organize all the pros and cons; turned away completely from the idea; and charged back to it with the fervor and passion of a prize-fighter. It's not an easy decision.

Before you begin to speculate about what is keeping me from lunging at the opportunity, I'll disclose one intimate detail: I'm afraid my idealism is lost. How do I know this? It was actually something I obsessively wanted to find out, and have been consciously thinking about for awhile. And today, while looking through my books, I found my Ezra Pound collection. I skimmed through some of his poems, and read my notes on the margins. I don't think I've read a poem in months, (I believe Lorca's Romancero Gitano was the last collection I read), but I had a sudden urge to extract beauty from words I'd indulged in so long ago. Suddenly, a true sense of joy came over me. I sat and read some poems and turned to one of Modernism's premier examples of brilliance: Ezra Pound's In a Station of the Metro.

In a Station of the Metro
"The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough."

After reading it about 30 times, I realized what was missing: I'd alienated my poetic thrust; defused my arsenal; disrupted the stylized craft that I'd grown to love in my youth. The crease strangled-notepad-coffee-stained-canvas I'd created so long ago, was but a flake of deteriorating stucko on a cellar wall. The shanty town-rise from the bottom-at no expense-ferocity of my words was dormant. My well was dry and I didn't know it.

I took my pen to my notepad this evening and I was a bit nervous. My hands shook a bit and I really didn't know what to write, but I wrote. And let me tell you, it felt really good. At this point in my life, where a non-fiction writing style has been an evolutionary progression, I charge back to my poetic roots like that prize-fighter, leaving everything in the moment to decide my fate. If I find my idealism, I'll be leaving for some time. But if I don't leave, you will still see the

explosive-carry the banner Mr. Basquiat, until the world finds the way-style of my poetry
to be quite provocative, and inciteful; at the least entertaining. Time is ticking.

The Jaded-sphere is spinning; round and round she goes.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

Follow Up: Samba Saturday at El Camp Nou.

2006-04-01T14:20:00.000-08:00

A powerful Barcelona team had to live with a resiliant Real Madrid defense, that would maintain a versatile Barça offensive, and preserve a 1-1 draw. El Derby gave us a multitude of yellow cards, a contraversial red card, a contraversial penalty, and a Madrid determined to survive. With seven Brazilians on the pitch, it was no surprise that the most explosive events came from the most electric players.

Ronaldihno delivered a precise penalty kick that even the magnifiscent Casillas couldn't forbid. Yet, a determined Madrid came back 20 minutes later, with only 10 men left on the field, and saw a Bauptista pass land perfectly in stride with a penetrating Ronaldo. A sombrerito touch gave los blancos a well deserved draw.

The game proved to be exciting, dramatic, and full of brilliant futból. Yet there was one element that I missed extremely: the presence of the great Raul. He is one of the reasons for my alliance with Madrid. His goal in the 2002 European Cup final solidified a fascination with a sport and team that before then, was completely foreign to me. I'll even speculate that I had some deranged animosity towards the game, simply because deep down I knew the whole world was a step ahead of me in knowing the beauty of the game. Raul played an important part in my appreciation for the game because he's always been passionate in his game. Even now, Raul is sprinting towards defenders when everyone else is standing and waiting for the action. His intensity is amazing, and his legacy unique. For the first time in years, the charismatic 29 year old midfielder was left out of the line-up and the transition wasn't pleasing. I understand why Lopez Caro decided on a Guti, Bauptista, Zidane mid, but it was difficult to see the greatest striker in Spanish history, sitting on the bench, without the captain's band on his arm. It's a change that I think will make the Ultra Sur faithful question the direction of the team.

I hope the "Galactico" era is over at Madrid, but next season may see Zidane and Roberto Carlos without a white jersey. I don't know what a Madrid without the trio of Zidane, Roberto Carlos, and Raul will look like, but I hope the powers that be preserve the beauty of the game, instead of the marvel of the buck. Times are changing con el merengue. I think they should bring Del Bosque back.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

Real Madrid vs FC Barcelona: El Classico Part II-2006

2006-03-30T19:42:00.000-08:00

As an emphatic Real Madrid fan, I was devastated by the 3-0 defeat back in November against the volatile Barça. However, my love for the game itself prevents any malice towards a great team like Barcelona, especially with one of my favorite players linked to their team: Ronaldo de Assis Moreira, aka Ronaldinho.

Though if I were from the capital, I'd probably be hog-tied and stoned for such a statement. Thankfully I'm simply a fan who had his first futból experience in Salamanca Spain, the same year los blancos won their record setting 9th European Cup. It was the majesty of an exuberantly youthful Raul that mesmerized my fascination with the sport. Yet, Zidane's historical volley against a tough Bayern team cemented my admiration and passion for the game, and the team I would follow for the last 4 years.

Since then, Real Madrid have gone trophy-less and have installed six coaches to no avail. There have been moments of sheer brilliance, like the 4-0 victory February 14th over Zaragoza in the second leg of the Copa del Rey. It was to be referenced as the greatest come back victory in "merengue" history. Alas, they fell short by one goal. Yet, los vikingos, (all of these are Real Madrid nicknames), have a special place in my heart because of their great history, (except for that moment when the tyrrant Franco decided to make them "his" team), and the memories I have, watching them take the pitch against the LA Galaxy last July, and seeing the great Spaniard Raul showcase why he is still one of the best.

This weekend, (if there are no referee strikes to postpone the historic match), will see two of the greatest clubs in Europe battle each other at the "Camp Nou" in Barcelona Spain. If you want to underestimate the state of this affair, then take this into consideration: though there is not much left for los merengue in taking first place, they are still fighting for the qualifying second place spot in La Liga, with Osasuna not too far behind. A few faces on the pitch will likely include Zidane, Beckham, Ronaldo, Robinho, Raul, Casillas, & Roberto Carlos for Real Madrid; along with Ronaldinho, Eto'o, Larsson, and Puyol for Barcelona. You'll get a chance to see three time winning footballer of the year Ronaldo, with two-time winning (2004-2005) footballer of the year Ronaldinho, all on the same pitch. This won't be the Robinho/Messi matchup that was hyped up in November, but expect Ronaldo to show that el gordo is just a nickname for now.

You'll be treated to one of the greatest rivalries in sports history. And trust me, this is no Red Sox/Yankees grudge. This is deeper than the Babe being traded, times a thousand. The tumultuous rivalry gained monumental strength during the Alfredo Di Stefano chaos of the 1950's, in which Real Madrid acquired the Argentine striker after speculation that Barcelona had secured acquisition. And even before ex-Red Sox outfielder Johnny Damon traded superstitious-beard for millionaire-stripes, the definition of "traitor" was provided a new face. The flame between Real Madrid and Barelona was fueled drastically in 2000, when recently resigned president Florentino Perez bought out Barcelona's favorite son, Luis Figo, for a record 56 million. Since then, Figo (now with Italian club Inter Milan), has been treated as one of the biggest traitors of all time. If that wasn't a dagger in the heart, then recognize that the dictatorship of Francisco Franco, (1939-1975), imposed a culture upon autonomous Catalunya that would incite civil war and tyranny for years. And to add a little more depth, Franco recognized Real Madrid as the team to extinguish Catalan pride.

This my friends is a grudge, and at least twice a year the world is allowed to gaze into the vibrancy of Spanish futból, politics, and what it means to truly cheer for a team. At each encounter, both teams recognize they have tons to gain and even more to lose. I'm betting on my team to show why they are the 29 time League Champs. My recommendation: don't miss this game.

El Classico is this Saturday, April 1st at approx. 12pm. It will be aired on GolTv.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

The National @ The Troubadour

2006-03-30T11:44:00.000-08:00

The Ohio quintet took the stage awaiting a sold out audience in one of their only LA visits Wednesday night. Establishing their dynamic energy as a rising star in the Indie rock scene, The National delighted the crowd with songs from their critically acclaimed album of 2005, "Alligator", and also enlightened the crowd with climatic riffs from their albums "Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers", Cherry Tree EP, and their self-entitled album.

I was excited to see this band because it wasn't until I heard their second album that I realized these cats were a radiant force in music. And before I proceed any further, I owe some thanks to my good friend Revaz for turning me onto this band.

With a collection of influences from country-folk to garage rock, The National attempt to claim a spot amidst the likes of Broken Social Scene, Death Cab for Cutie, and Wilcoto name a few. Yet, the vocal and lyrical talent of lead singer Matt Berninger places him in a category among triumphants like Eddie Vedder, Johnny Cash, and Nick Drake. To be honest, I hear his voice as a fusion of all three.

The band, comprised of two sets of brothers that include Bryce and Aaron Dessner & Scott and Bryan Devendorf, are a volatile and tranquil experience, simultaneously weaving through the ins and outs of rock n roll, while seducing whatever you allocate to them. On it's own, that's an accomplishment. A captivating rhythm section is balanced with vigorous guitar playing that simulates the extreme balance this band attains. As my good friend Revaz put it, "this is what I want to hear from American rock music." I couldn't agree more. The band's roots rock style is a cascading force that pummels the senses of atmospheric waning Indie heads. Simply, their vigor and style are intoxicating.

Lead singer Matt Berninger was obviously suffering from a major cold last night, but the vocal height he reached during "Mr. November" was fascinating. His determination to reach certain notes, hiked up on his toes, and extending his whole body to reach a zenith that would allow for the note to complete a trek through his whole body was as much inspiring to watch, as it was gratifying. To see a lead singer cast aside sickness to please his audience is far from ordinary these days. I feel certain artists are so caught up in their image and marketing schemes that you have to applaud a band and singer that comes out throwing punches.

I won't spend time with the audience because they were simply disappointing.

"Dude! play the astronaut song already!", a person said.
With a subtle reply, "learn the whole title if you want to hear a song man."

By this time a contingent of peeps were simply drunk. I heard a bit of mockery with some audience members, and they are entitled to it. Yet, performing in front of a sold out when your head is maintaing the pressure of what feels like 1000 feet of water is commendable. And Mr. Berninger, who revealed was on a certain sudafeds, was entitled to slack a bit. But he didn't flinch. I can't imagine his vocal force when he's healthy. I might just have to buy that Coachella ticket after all to find out.

The National are an arsenal of great music. Their midwestern rock shines through with a bit of NYC grittiness. Scorned riffs are soothed instead of raped. Their alliance to soulful rhythms is apparent in every note they play. And to top it off, the rhythm guitarist and bassist switch instruments in the middle of sets! I applaud while screaming emphatically.

Albums released on Beggar's Banquet.

Talkdemonic

This Oregon duo, who is intently dedicated to supplying a profound ethereal experience, opened up for The National last night, and they were fantastic. The instrumental set loomed over the crowd like a showery rain in the summer time. All I kept thinking was, "what would happen if they teamed up with Ulrich?" A violist and drummer make up the duo, and they shouldn't go without notice.

Check out what pitchfork has to say about their latest album here.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.
more photos.

Travel Shows: Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations

2006-03-27T20:13:00.000-08:00

From Samantha Brown's Passport to Europe, to Ian Wright and Justine Shapiro's remarkable travels on Globe Trekker, there is an icon amidst travel programs that explicitly sets a standard of its own: Anthony Bourdain's: No Reservations. The suave, rugged, New York City chef has launched the second season of his television show and has left no room for fear. Last year's season saw him eat fermented shark in Iceland, sauteed porcupine in Vietnam, almost kill himself in a four-wheeler accident in New Zealand, and indulge in the truly foreign world of modern Uzbekistan. I'm sure he's ready for more.

This season's adventures stretch throughout the world with stops in Puerto Rico, Japan, and Peru to name a few. His show unleashes a tantalizing line up of regions that suggest another set of episodes dedicated to adventurous eating, aggressive commentary, and a libertarian's perspective of life. Only Bourdain could exude that machismo-confidence that I believe have the most conservative television watchers on the edge of their seats. I love it. A modern-day Rochester, (well not as vulgar), Bourdain defines the essence of world travel. His intense pursuit to subject his gut to whatever a culture can manifest is both appreciated and honorable.

Bourdain is only the latest of my fascinations. I was once the obsessed devotee of Lonely Planet, or what is now called Globe trekker. These programs, dedicated to the off the beaten path connoisseur, are of much more significance than the polished and more touristy friendly "Passport to Europe" and Rick Steve's deadening "Rick Steve's Europe" shows. I'll admit though, his travel books are really good. However, if I am going to devote my precious time to being entertained and aesthetically pleased by what I am watching, I'd have to say that BBC's Globe Trekker and Travel Channels' No Reservations are neck and neck.

Bourdain's show is animated and pleasing in the dive bar-eastside-bacon wrap hot dog on the street corner sort of way. His humor is vulgar and vicious at times. He can be a brute and ill-tempered. Tonight's show saw him almost fall asleep during a Chinese calligraphy class. Yet, come on, the man's show is dedicated to adventures of the culinary arts. I'd believe that his producers put him up to all those antics, and though I definitely want to see the experience, and want to know about the history of whatever country he is visiting, I'm not necessarily going to tune into Bourdain's show awaiting an in-depth analysis of the history of a certain country. It's not the intention of the show; and I'm too hip. Seriously, I'm not "hip" when it comes to anything else. My clothes suck, I spend 75% of my day alone, and I watch Indie-films. But traveling, well that I know; I know tons.

I personally want to see Bourdain talk about how food changes the world. How he can manage to visit foreign land and become one with the people through taste and touch. How a stomach lining of a sheep, marinated in salt water and herbs can inspire a prophetic experience of the nerves, travel to his brain, and extract an epiphany of life beyond all epiphanies. Frankly, I believe he's the only man that can do it. He scours through foreign territory as a scavenger, making connections with people most don't want to know exist; and he does so for one reason. As he stated in tonight's season premiere, "the poor make food taste good because they had to." There are hardly any luxurious for peasant people around the world, so whatever they can manage to eat, over generations and generations, can turn into a palates delight. Have you discovered a "diamond in the rough?" Bourdain runs across dozens a show.

I've been talking about Bourdain as an "icon" for about two years now; simply because I've become a huge fan. If you haven't caught a glimpse of his show, I suggest you give it a shot. Especially if you are looking for something to push you over the edge, get you off your couch, and buy that plane ticket to Buenos Aires you've been thinking about. An hour of this show might have you on the next flight out. Remember, it's all done with the pursuit for adventure, and in the midst of an open mind.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All Rights Reserved.

A People Unite: No To HR-4437

2006-03-25T22:26:00.000-08:00

Downtown Los Angeles: 500,000 strong: March 25, 2006.
The nation witnessed the awakening of a giant: the nation should be listening. An estimated 500,000 people from all over Los Angeles poured into the streets of Downtown showcasing their resistance to relinquish their rights. And I'm not talking about any constitutional, civil, or legislative-drawn rights. I'm talking about those moral, humane, never leave a starving man, woman, child without food kind of rights. The thought of a measure that would lawfully disenfranchise millions of people across these great United States is brutally shocking to accept. However, thousands of protesters gathered against the proposed initiative HR-4437, (which in one aspect of the bill, would allow for proposed jail-time and direct deportment of "illegl-aliens" without the just process of the law), and exclaimed their desire not only to stay in this country, but to prove valiantly and vigorously that they are devout and dedicated to preserving a diverse America.

Today's march portrayed a diverse people that were eager to express their devotion to this country by symbollically carrying multiple flags that exemplified their tribute to a tradition they hold, while maintaining a future they dream to become realized. I witnessed firsthand, the US flag coated shoulders of grown men who held signs that explained, "We work in the USA because we love the USA". The severe lack of a militant presence showcased what numbers could accomplish. Broken bottles and angry revolts were substituted with baby-strollers and a powerful raised fist. Chants and revelry were the atmosphere, and it was apparent that everyone present would be heard.

The march was also a time for people to portray a tragic truth about this bill: a dissolving and separating of many families in the United States. Grandmothers and their grandsons', as well as husbands and wives with their recent additions, all strolled down Broadway with the courage of the fiercest warrior. They sang and chanted, held signs and hands, and relished in what I could see was a realization that they weren't alone. Los Angeles was completely behind them, because they are Los Angeles.

In essence, the immigrants addressed in HR-4437 are of the same oppressive etimology as that of the Puritan who deemed a Monarch repressive, and in turn escaped to a place that was ideally better. This country has devoted it's benevolence to allowing asylum-seekers a place to reestablish roots in order to blossom. Well, that is the United States we've grown to envision. Thus, any attempt to discard people at this day in age will arouse intense criticism and protest.

With that rationale, I've determined that this proposer has to be defined as one of the most racist in history. How could an administration disclose a measure dedicated to dismantling the spirit of this country?It is without doubt that the 21st Century has commenced in horrific fashion. Racial divide and oppression are still rampant. Yet, today revealed a tenacity and ferocity of a people, eager to display that they will not be run from their homes. Nor will they become displaced by sinister legislation. Today emphasized the serious reform that needs to be addressed in order to diplomatically resolve a "problem" that has only been attacked harshly and consistently since the rise of "fierce terrorism". We wage war abroad in order to escape our own fanaticism. In addition, we've waged war on a people trying heroically to survive in a country that spites their existence. I'm sure the nation has realized that a giant is in their midst: a peaceful, hardworking giant.

© Citoyen du Monde Inc. 2006™
All photos by Citizen192™
All Rights Reserved.
more photos from today's event.