Everything I Know About Fashion, Part 3

Previously: Part 1, Part 2

9) Buying sale merchandise is fine. Some women attach a stigma to buying things on sale. These women are stupid and frivolous - do not date them. The fashion industry is a pretty big scam, all things considered - even the most expensive pair of jeans cost what - twenty dollars to make? And ladies, did you know that when you wear Juicy Couture, you're actually wearing Liz Claiborne - the official brand of middle-aged librarians? What I'm saying is, the fashion industry has all sorts of ways of convincing you to pay much more than the clothes are worth - stigmatizing sales is yet another one of their tricks.

10) On the other hand, If you know exactly what you want - and can find it - then go ahead and spend the money to get it. Enjoy your life.

11) Think twice about getting something because it's functional and cheap. That money could be spent towards something lethal and durable. Do it enough times, and you get a closet full of functional and cheap, with no room or money left for lethal and durable.

12) The Matrix. When considering a garment, think about how many other garments in your wardrobe this item can be worn with. Also consider if the garment can be layered with other garments in the winter. The idea is to maximize the possible number of permutations in your wardrobe. If something is expensive and can only be worn with only a few other items you own, pass.

13) Wear the damn clothes. Don't buy stylish expensive clothes and put them in the closet for a special occasion. This is called hoarding, and Jesus can't stand hoarders. From now on, only wear your best threads, even to grocery store. Life is too short to wear your scrub clothes.

14) Clothing is inherently ephemeral. Almost nothing stays in fashion for more than two years - and even if it does, a) it'll either wear out, or b) you'll get tired of it. Think of your closet as a project that must be occasionally renewed, and not a museum.

To be continued in (hell yes, I can do this all day) Part 4.

Yukari, Junpei, Mitsuru, and Me

Persona 3 is a game that attempts to model one academic year in the life of a typical Japanese high school student, albeit one who just happens to stumble across a hidden hour between midnight and 12:01 am, during which a hitherto unseen tower rises from his school campus, and disagreeable demons emerge. The game, like high school, is a challenge of time management. Do you study for mid-terms, go on a date with your sweetheart, or save the world from demonic evil?

This is a game which will require, at my current pace, about eighty hours to complete. I'm halfway done.

Do I really have this kind of time? I can justify the allocation by pointing out that Persona 3 serves as research for two upcoming projects: Pillow Crisis 2(!) and another project which serves as my attempt to become The Greatest Final Fantasy Fan Fiction Writer Of All Time.

But ultimately, I admit that you cannot devote eighty hours of your life to something unless you really, really enjoy it. Here are just a few of the reasons why I enrolled at Gekkoukan High:

1) Getting lost on the first days of school because the campus is so big and unfamiliar.

2) Knocking out demons with a baseball bat, and ordering my classmates to go in for an all-out melee. Never gets old.

3) Everybody - the ditz, the jock - is hiding a secret. And they all have serious issues.

4) The hierarchy of demons is based on the tarot deck, with demons being grouped by allegiance to cards (Hermit, Magician, Death) from the Major Arcana. Being a huge fan of the Rider Waite tarot deck and a certain lady who uses it, I adore this detail.

5) Running into my acquaintances at random places (the subway station, the shrine) in town when school lets out.

6) Listening to the girls in my combat unit complain about the lack of fashion sense in the body armor I give to them.

7) Being given the option to fall asleep in class as a means of regaining stamina to fight demons later in the evening.

8) Pop quizzes on the difference between the Paleolithic and Neolithic ages. And actually having to pay attention during lectures when the teacher says, "This will be on the exam."

9) The simplicity and beauty of the allegory of kids with repressed (inner) demons that represent their traumas and their strengths. They have stuff inside, and they just have to get it out.

10) The charmingly Japanese notion that strong academic performance correlates strongly with one's desirability to high school girls, and in turn, one's ability to fight demons.

11) Going on spring break and attempting to mack on (only to get shot down by) college chicks.

12) Casual acquaintances (the neighborhood dog, the friendly grade school kid) reveal their greater significance in your life with time. Just like real life!

13) Going to see the school nurse when I'm not feeling well.

14) The oppressive structure and amount of ennui in my life - I had almost forgotten how simultaneously busy - and how boring - a high schooler's life is.

How To Accomplish The Impossible

Very simple.

You attempt the thing you want to accomplish 243 times. By the time you get to attempt number 200, the end of the tunnel should be in sight.

I say this because I've gotten to the point where there are only a few yoga poses I can't do. I told my instructor the other day:

"I don't think there's anything you can throw at me I can't handle."

"Oh really."

"Yeah. You heard me. YOU HEARD ME."

"Uh, well... that's good!"

You know I've gotten good at something when the smack talk begins. I'm probably the only yoga student on earth that likes to talk shit to his instructor.

Anyway, I remember there were so many times that I thought to myself, "I will never be able to do this pose." I was convinced that it was impossible - that I had reached the limits of my body's strength and flexibility. But every single time, I was wrong.

If you saw me in my first class, you'd never believe what I can do now. I'm so flexible, that if I had a uterus, I'd be ready to start making babies. No drugs necessary. That's how open my hips are. I can throw up a handstand like it ain't no big thang now.

Which led me to the question today: how many classes did it take for me to achieve this level of mastery? I asked the person at the front counter, and he dutifully added up my tally in his head, and said:

"243 classes since April 2006."

"Sweet!"

"Excellent work, Rob."

You know, 243 times isn't even that much. If you attempted to do something impossible every day, it's not even a year.

My point is: most feats thought to be impossible wouldn't even take a year to accomplish.

I think entire lives could change with that small idea.

Everything I Know About Fashion, Part 2

Previously: Part 1

5) Be colorful. It works for peacocks, and I'm pretty sure we humans obey the same evolutionary biology. So many guys are afraid of wearing colors, and wearing them gives you such an edge. Every time I wear lavender or lime or pink, it's inevitable - a female will make a point of stepping forward to compliment me. I was talking about this with Ting, Stefanie's BFF, and she said, "But wait a minute - won't girls think you're gay?" And then she immediately followed up with, "Oh wait - if they stop to think about whether you're gay or not, they're in your back pocket." Smart girl.

6) No article of clothing should ever be pointedly uncomfortable to wear. There are too many clothes out there that look and feel good to waste your time with discomfort.

7) Do your homework. Make a regular habit of entering stores and trying on clothes, especially in expensive places. It's the fastest way to develop good taste - to know what is stylish and looks good on you. Then you can either buy things that aren't as expensive but look the same (girls do this all the time - it's called Forever 21 with their knockoff Diane Von Furstenberg dresses), or wait for things to go on sale (again, girls).

8) Corollary to the previous rule: try on clothes at places you would never normally shop at (because you don't think you're the target demographic). You'll be surprised, and it will inject new blood into your closet. I have things in my closet from all kinds of places, from thrift stores to Barney's Coop. Combine the two, and you'll get a pretty unique outfit.

To be continued in Part 3.

The Best Sunset In The History of LA

Occurred yesterday. It had been raining on and off all day. Driving south on the 101, the sky was filled with an immense rainbow, arcing through the sky, big thick bands of color. The freeway appeared to be headed directly towards the end of rainbow. And if that weren't enough, there was more than one. Everywhere you turned, another massive rainbow curving above the city.

I've lived here quite a while, and I've never seen anything like it.

Everything I Know About Fashion, Part 1

Most men tend to underestimate exactly how tight their clothes need to be in order to get laid.

This is something I've learned as multiple individuals have asked over the past year or so that I go shopping for clothes with them. I don't know why people ask, as my personal fashion philosophy is to do and spend the absolute bare minimum to be stylish.

But for future reference, here is everything I've learned about men's fashion:

1) Don't depend on the opinion of a woman. The cliche is: shop with a woman. PLEASE. The opinion of a woman is valuable, but not THAT valuable. Remember, women are the dummies who are killing themselves trying to fit into skinny tapered jeans that don't flatter anybody, the ones wearing ugly leggings in the winter and hiding their stems from me (who thought this was a good idea?), the ones wearing baby doll dresses that make them look like dowdy infants. That being said, most women have more of a clue than you. Ultimately -- You have to do this by yourself.

2) Practice brand agnosticism. You may discover a particular brand that you love, and decide, in an effort to make shopping easier, to buy from that brand (or store) exclusively. This is a mistake because 1) every brand falls off eventually, and 2) diversity will always be more stylish than monotony. The only loyalty you want to practice is to your own body; things either look good on you or they don't.

3) Proper fit is more important than everything else. A retailer for frat boys and high schoolers makes dress shirts that are pretty cheap and not particularly remarkable. But they are the only dress shirts that are slim enough to fit snugly around my torso and shoulders - and because of this fact, end up looking much more stylish than shirts that cost three times as much. Of course, in a perfect world, I'd spend five times as much to get the cut, color, and pattern right, but the world is not quite that perfect yet. Fit is especially king when it comes to denim - more on this in a bit.

4) Never buy anything that is branded. Unless the logo is extremely small and inconspicuous. Not only because you don't want to be someone else's billboard, but because you want to keep people guessing where you shop. If they have to guess, congratulations: your taste is somewhat unique.

To be continued in Part 2.

This Workout Will Kill You So You Can Live Again

So you want to be a writer. Do you think you can handle the physical demands of the job?

My routine:

Yoga - five days a week
Weights - three days a week
Running - once a week

Do the math. That's more than one workout per day. That's right -- Friday Night Lights, y'all -- I'm a high school football player doing two-a-days.

Why do I do this to myself?

1) Increased Energy. You know that awful feeling you have when you're leaving your office job at the end of the day - that combination of physical and mental fatigue brought on by the copier toner and monitor glare? It's a most mysterious malady, especially considering that the life of an office worker isn't particularly strenuous. It's my suspicion that this feeling is that of your soul expiring. I haven't experienced it in ALMOST TWO YEARS.

2) Method writing. One of the characters in Lobsters vs. Butterflies has endured a particularly grueling physical training regimen her entire life, and spends most of the movie coping with extreme amounts of pain. In order to understand what she's going through, I am attempting to emulate her routine. When people ask me, "Why yoga?" I tell them, "Because there aren't any ninjutsu studios on Larchmont."

3) Preparation for child-rearing. This is somewhat tongue-in-cheek. Everyone I know who has kids has pretty serious neck and back problems from lugging their offspring around. I ain't going out like that. (Speaking of children, someone recently offered me a free sonogram of all things, and I said, "Yeah! Let me get someone pregnant, and I'll take you up on that.")

4) Free iPods, shoes, and food. My running group not only lends me the services of a babysitter/pacesetter who keeps an eye on my safety, but also loans me state-of-the-art running shoes and iPods. Not to mention the nutritionally balanced meal afterwards. And the best part: it's all FREE.

Japanese People Are Evil

And I can't stop writing about them.

Progress on my new script, Lobsters vs. Butterflies, has been slowed lately by the entrance of Japanese characters into the scene. (They are Japanese lobsters, you see. Evil Japanese lobsters.)

Progress slows because my familiarity with the Japanese language and culture is limited by what I can glean from video games, and anime (Kage Bunshin No Jutsu!) - hardly a large font of knowledge to draw upon.

So I depend on a great deal of reseach: primary sources and artwork and photography to piece together how things should look and sound and feel. Visiting Japan this past summer was a tremendous help, of course - it's one thing to read about the nightingale floor at Nijo castle, but quite another to hear it in person.

But no amount of research can provide you with the aura of words. There is a dense network of allusion and connotation and history packed in a name of any language, and it all goes right over your head if you're a native speaker. For all I know, my villain's name sounds like Eugene to Japanese audiences - naming Japanese characters is quite the arduous process, and any astute viewer will note that my Japanese names are packed with none-too-subtle nods to video games and anime. (I have a character named after a Sega arcade platform, for crying out loud.)

Despite this difficulty, or perhaps because of it, I have seen fit to include Japanese characters in my next three projects. In fact, each of the three stories prominently feature Japanese villains: Japanese lobsters in Lobsters vs. Butterflies, Japanese real estate magnates and pop culture icons in Pillow Crisis, and (ominously) the Japanese military in Waxahachie Air.

Clearly, I have a preoccupation with Japanese villainy. Perhaps it's a trace memory of my grandparents' experience during the Japanese occupation of Taiwan - my grandparents all speak and read Japanese fluently as a result, and they didn't exactly pick up the language as a hobby. And yet, none of my grandparents seem to bear any grudge against the Japanese at all. My mother and grandmother are vacationing in Hokkaido as I write this; my grandma's all like, "Hey Japan, you guys locked me up in a camp back in the day, but it's cool, I love your beaches."

Oh, and my great-grandmother was a geisha.

When you consider her life, and then consider mine, a writer spinning a yarn about treacherous Japanese crustraceans, it makes you wonder about the story the universe itself is spinning.

How You Know You Have A Full Life

You can't find the time to update your blog.

But also:

You wake up on a Saturday morning to your phone ringing. You pick it up. And someone tells you they're going to pick you up in half an hour.

You have no idea what this person is talking about.

"Uh...what are we doing again?

"We're having dumpings in Arcadia."

"Oh. Awesome."

My weekends are so booked that I am beginning to forget my plans right after I make them. I am beginning to wonder what it would be like to have the weekend to myself inside my apartment. I've done everything from view an amazing exhibition by Ghana artist El Anatsui, to meeting a Japanese Samurai robot who urged me to "improve human/robot relations!", to having barbecue right off the grill at a tailgate party in a grocery mart's parking lot.

And yet I'm busier than ever with my work. Which would suggest that I would keep the weekend adventuring to a minimum, but I've actually made it a top priority to do something interesting every week. So even though I have less time to have fun these days, I'm actually making it a point to have MORE fun.

Funny how this works. I'm a writer knee-deep in a draft of a script about the eternal and bitter rivalry between lobsters and butterflies. I spend a great deal of time alone at a desk, concentrating very deeply upon the choreography of fight sequences between crustaceans and insects. It's difficult, isolating work, and without some form of respite, I will begin to dread it, then hate it, and then rebel against it.

Which is why it's important that I go out and do things that aren't writing. Like the robots and the Ghana art, and the barbecue. To provide balance and normalcy and fun.

Keep Away From Fire

That's what the warning label inside my new jeans says. As if to apprise me that when I wear this garment, there is a significant chance that I may burst into flames.

The jean designers have no idea.

I am on page thirty of my new script, adhering to a breakneck (for me) two-page-a-day pace.

Let me be perfectly clear - I have never, ever written this fast in my life. I feel like I am just barely holding on to a bucking steer, and if you knew what Lobsters vs. Butterflies was about, you'd find the metaphor quite apt. Rodeo cowboys consider eight seconds - the time required to hold onto a bull for a legitimate ride - to be an eternity. I am on schedule to finish this script in nine weeks, and it may as well be ten years.

Writing: Bribery and Ol' Dirty Bastard

Music industry legend has it that when the time came for perenially erstwhile (and sadly deceased) Wu-Tang member Ol' Dirty Bastard to record his second solo studio album, the record company execs had a problem.

They couldn't get ODB to show up in the studio to record. So they took the necessary step of bribing him, everyday, to show up and work. The bribes took the form of envelopes of cash, and some speculate, vials of drugs. The idea was that they would leave a little piece of cheese in the studio each day, and hopefully Dirt McGirt would show up and take the bait.

This actually worked, producing, in all senses of the word, a miracle. One known as the classic album "Nigga Please". Pharrell Williams, one of the producers on the album, once described in an interview how ODB would record a single line of a rap, exit the studio to take a long break, and then return to record the next line. And so on. Compare this work ethic to that of Too $hort, who recorded many, many albums, and famously boasted "I won't leave the studio until the song's done."

Let's put it this way: my work ethic is much more akin to that of Big Baby Jesus than Mr. Short. I bribe myself constantly. I buy myself expensive foods. I buy myself the latest Final Fantasy game. I buy clothes from Barney's New York.

Whatever it takes to get me to the desk. As long as I'm cranking out two pages a day, I'm invincible. I can do as I please, and you can't stop me.

Because I've done my writing for the day.

The Crackhouse

A few nights ago, my apartment building was raided by the police.

Why? Because one of my neighbors was running a METH AND CRACK LAB out of his apartment.

The police cordoned off the building with police tape, and biohazard trucks showed up to remove the chemicals. The dealer had all his windows blacked out, just like in the movies! And apparently, the tipster was the crazy old lady who lives on the third floor, who suspected the dealer of stealing her newspaper and kept him under constant surveillance. (Because meth dealers can't afford to buy their own newspapers, I guess.)

I should have known. Dude spent all hours of the day in the garage, painting his car different colors, one coat after another (and you know that's how meth types roll), and there were all sorts of people showing up in the building at odd hours. (I just assumed he had a lot of indie friends.)

Anyway, no matter how much cred you think you have regarding illicit drugs, I win. FOREVER.

After all, I live IN A CRACKHOUSE.

Writing: Fancy Software Is For Typesetting

No matter what software I use - whether its Final Draft, Movie Magic Screenwriter, or Microsoft Word - I find that it's best used for typesetting - that is, arranging the display of words ALREADY written.

The writing itself is better done in longhand, or in a basic text editor. The fancy software encourages me to aim for final-draft-quality output, which is crippling. And it also leads to a common fallacy of thought: because my words are visually formatted, they must be final. The simple tools, on the other hand, encourage me to sketch and mess around, without the pressure of feeling that my words are being chiseled into stone.

Once I've finished sketching out a scene, I then go to the software and lay out the words, which is small revision in itself, and a visual reward for finishing the work.

Writing: The Samurai Desk

Your desk is a reflection of your state of mind. An empty desk is the product of a mind that has sorted everything - every last scrap of paper, every utensil, every book, into its proper place at the end of the work day.

Therefore, the surface of your desk should always be empty, except when one is actually working at it.

To start the day by facing a cluttered desk is intimidating. You have a mess to clean before you've even started. Better to face an inviting work surface.

Now Comes The Exciting Part

The ironic thing is that I have no problem posting daily when I'm in remote parts of a foreign country with limited internet access, but once I return back to my apartment, I go dark.

Here's the deal: I'm about to run out of money. At my current rate of burn, I'll be done by Christmas, more or less. Remember the character introduction for Captain Jack Sparrow in the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie? He steps off the mast of his dinghy onto the wharf, just as his boat completely sinks into the water. Story of my life.

So I have four months left. By sheer coincidence, that's the amount of time I need to finish a good draft of Lobsters vs. Butterflies, my new and exciting script about the fierce and bitter rivalry between insects and crustaceans. So I am writing as quickly as I can, while as my financial house crumbles around me.

What happens when the money runs out? Will you get to read blog posts about living on the street and turning tricks? Or worse, going back to making video games about killing brown people?

I myself have been provided some insight about what happens next, but there is a difference between knowing something theoretically, and knowing it experientially. I've had this lesson reiterated in recent times: no matter how much one has been told about a person before meeting them, the actual encounter will both corroborate and betray the description in the most interesting ways. I will say that I am excited about what is about to happen, and leave it at that.

Right now, I'm concentrating on my first draft of LvB. Then we'll see. Finishing this draft on schedule should be eminently doable, assuming of course, that life cooperates by remaining free of intrigue and excitement for the duration.

But I doubt life will.

Harry Potter

I'm off to see a screening of Harry Potter at the Warner Brothers lot up in Burbank. I don't often enjoy the perks of the film industry, but when I do, they're nice.

Saw Transformers last night, which led to a strange conversation during yoga class. I was doing bridge pose, which isn't the most comfortable thing, and my instructor wandered over and said, "What'd you think of Transformers?" And I thought, I'd love to have this conversation with you, but what an incredibly strange time to ask me this question - I'm trying to ACCOMPLISH something here!

Still Here

I've been spending all my time procrastinating preparing to write my next screenplay, which means eliminating many possible sources of distraction, including cleaning my apartment, lining up medical appointments, selling things that are taking up room in my closets, visiting my relatives, shopping for household necessities, and getting my computer repaired.

In short, I'm going to war. I'm organizing my resources within the staging ground of my apartment in order to make a sustained offensive charge through the next four months.

I have a screenplay draft to complete and Pillow Crisis negotiations with our friends at the studio. And those are merely the developments I can allude to publicly. The thing I can't mention will be fiercely competing for time with the things I can. It's my job to reconcile them all.

I find it hard to believe that all these things have to happen at the same time. Perhaps it's because I need to learn to balance them.

Coming up is my new weapon in the effort. A new technique from the discipline of productivity judo: the empty desktop.

The Beach Mafia

Just got back from having barbeque at Dockweiler beach, and playing a game of Mafia with several Hollywood types. Mafia is a summer camp favorite in which a handful of individuals among a group of twenty are secretly mafia assassins, and the others must rely on their powers of deduction in order to capture the criminals before everyone is assassinated.

What I learned from this game is that I'm an awful judge of character, having made several false accusations, and ignoring the young woman to my right, who masterfuly played the innocent while slaughtering several of my fellow players. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one; the civilians as a whole voted to execute several innocent people in the pursuit of justice.

I myself was formally accused of being mafia late in the game, and was forced to defend myself before my peers. A girl quietly said to me, "I think you're mafia." Which unleashed a chorus of "Kill him!"

But all was eventually forgiven, as the civilians triumphed - the last mafia member was eating a smores, which led to his downfall: "He's eating! He's mafia!"

And the result was a catharsis of relief and joy as everyone gave each other high fives under the moonlit sky. As we were recounting the game's events, I told someone, "You got killed for completely arbitrary reasons."

Someone said, "Everyone did."

Random Photos of Asia

Jonathan getting his ass handed to him in Street Fighter III: Third Strike in Kyoto


My father, my brother, and I walking through the French Concession in Shanghai


Waiting for the bus to leave the government-mandated tourist trap in Guilin


Mountain biking through Yangshuo. I'm wearing the hat backwards because my neck is getting sunburned. Be quiet.


Don't even ask me to identify which shrine this is in Japan. Wallace climbing up stairs.


Bamboo rafting in Yangshuo.


Brian being emo in Japan.


Dinner at a nightclub/karaoke bar in Yangshuo.

Leaving China

Myself at the top of Moon Hill, after a legendary climb. The view is even better in person.

For all my planning efforts, I could never have planned a trip this fantastic; it was filled with wonder and drama and epiphany. And best of all, I got to hang out with one brother, two parents, three former coworkers, a grad school classmate, an old flame, and an alma mater. That is clearly a record.

I can't wait to do this all over again in - ohmigod - LESS THAN FOUR MONTHS!?

Big thanks to my parents, who made the trip so much easier (and cheaper); between the free housing and meals, my stay in China was a much more pleasant one.

Now I return to meet whatever is waiting for me back in Los Angeles. I'm going to put back all the weight I lost, catch up with all my favorite yoga classmates, eat some barbeque on the beach, and most importantly...

Get back to work.

Actually, I've been told that work is SECOND most important right now.

It's an exciting time.