A priestly challenge and the capacity to love.

This is cool, try it out. It was a part of the homily in Church today. Just do this even though you've heard/read it a hundred times! Trust me it's cool!

1) Keep your eyes on the crucifix while reading this (we looked on while this passage was being read to us).

"Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, (love) is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things." - 1 Cor 13: 4-7

2) Think of someone that has hurt you. The worse the hurt the better this works.

3) Now keep them as reference in mind and re-read the above scripture replacing the word 'Love' with your own name!!!

So, in my case, "Karan is patient, Karan is kind, etc." - and as you do this (which will almost instantly make one laugh I assume - does me) you will see how far or close from the Christian ideal of Christlike love we are.

Jesus loved those who pushed him beyond death - loving those who like you (or you like), or loving someone who has hurt you forever ago is not a true test of Christian maturity like my Priest said to our congregation.

He also tied in 1 Cor 13:11 (also included in today's readings) - "When I was a child, I used to talk as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; when I became a man, I put away childish things." So he was saying St. Paul in this sentence was talking about Christian maturity as gauged by the capacity to love.

The first part of this chapter is about how one can have it all - but all is nothing if one does not have love; it then spells out what that love looks like (the common 'wedding' reading written above) by describing what Christ's love was/is; and then finally, how dangerous Real Love is! (I think of Pablo Neruda talking about his 'dangerous love').

Thereafter Fr. Satish gave us the fun test I've spelled out above to gauge our capacity for this real love, and in so far as that, show us where we can pray for God's grace to bring us to the fullness of this ideal (as much as possible on earth).

Okay do it, and then you can finish this article if you want, the rest of the article is just my garbage - this was the good meat! Hope you really enjoyed it! I should add - this is all because following the crucifixion comes the resurrection! i.e. Love, Real Love, "never fails."

And read this homily by clicking here! it's great!

---

My garbage thoughts

I had been meditating on these scriptures, I had stared at my crucifix or kept it in mind when I did (repeated readings) - and then today it was the homily! awesome.

I especially like the putting your name in there and keeping in mind someone that hurt you, because the validity of love is therein shown or destroyed and can even be created. awesome.

Also, earlier in the day I was speaking to one of my professor friends on the East Coast whose meta-narrative is culture. We discussed the individualistic culture of America in contrast to the communal culture of Christianity (specifically the push of Catholics and further Italian Catholics). The candy fed, pop culture, conventional definition of 'love' and especially of 'hurt'; that our tolerance is actually quite low and it takes a repeated hammering for Christ to finally arm us with the "breastplates of righteousness" (so to speak). That Love (capital L) finds itself validated in the face of overwhelming grief and depression and fear and mis-trust - not in safety! Just like in 1 Cor 13! Just like Christ on the Cross! And once that is accepted and enacted, then the passages about Christ's "yolk being easy to carry" make more sense; and then also the candy fed pop psychology becomes applicable in so far as "it doesn't have to be this hard" and becomes "safe" (i.e. Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, dancing in exile, living in the moment, etc.). The modern world is focused on the resurrection and denies the crucifixion, some even say they don't need it because Jesus already did it; which in my opinion is again only partially true theology - but anyways...all this was before I even went to mass! awesome.

A riveting conversation that tied in inexplicably but is more than I can type or find necessary to share. I suggest think about these things, it's wonder-filled stuff; Dr. Phil and Oprah and Tyra Banks and popular music and etc. etc. have massively confused the ideal of love by replacing it with their post-modern pop psychology that Love, as presented by the man of Christ, is seen twistedly through this "new" lens of post-modern mid-western American culture - what we now know as 'conventional thinking' (and some voice in the background yells, "correct thinking!"). Love is not safe in the modern sense, but once we tackle this - our capacity itself becomes a danger to the modern ideal! awesome.

I don't know, anyways, we'll get there, God's bringing us back everyday whether we know it or not, and take it from me, I have no idea what he's doing to me everyday, or even if I'm in the right direction, or even following him! but I try and just have faith that he's doing what he's doing, and that that's what's best, and it can only be done one day at a time and that sucks and is awesome simultaneously and it all doesn't matter as long as we have a continual increase in the capacity for Christlike love.

Doppelganger week yields fun results.

I am Serpico.

I take on corruption.

I am Karan.

I was told I look like Serpico.

I also take on corruption.

For God - via Rumi

Thirst drove me down to the water where I drank the moons reflection

Now I am a Lion staring straight up totally lost in love with the thing itself

Hey you there! Mrs. K. Singh! Check it out pretty lady, this is why you were so easy to spot.

(A young Maya Angelou)

If I ever get married, my wife's being itself will recite this poem...before she even opens her beautiful mouth to speak.

Check it out by clicking here!

The History of Love & Violence: A Training

I battle ninjas and princesses all the same.

Nothing says cool and comfortable like pale pink.

Alan Thicke does not give a shit about your parents divorce.

Somewhere inside us...there lives a sassy black woman.

I gravitate towards what is considered ‘Classic’ literature because most contemporary stuff has not generally had the same lasting effect on me the 'Classics' do.

I am also leery of anything Oprah likes.

All that being said, last night brought about Maya Angelou and I felt a sense of kinship with her- in some way. I also liked her laughter and power, her humility – and in that humility, her correctly framed pride – as if she’s got ‘gold mines digging in her own back yard’. She comes across as an image of real beauty – at least in my quick glimpse of this video.

I watched this video a few times last night and re-read her poem a few times too (linked for you at the bottom). I read it while I listened to her recite it, it was awesome. Her recital does a lot for the experience.

With an understated smile and most theatrical bow,
El Karan

She wrote this in 1978.

You may read the "original" by clicking here.

"Love is so short and oblivion so long" - Pablo Neruda

An old friend described me in part the other day.

"You are a romantic", he said.

Yeahup.

(read the poem referenced in the title here)

Who's the Boss & The Freshwater

When I was young and lived in Canada, I watched TV with my mom mostly. Sometimes my own cartoons. We watched the Golden Girls and Who's the Boss. I always thought Samantha was pretty - but she was a little older so I figured no chance there. That was like most seven year old boys. Well then Alyssa Milano got older and got slutty for a while. It was so weird to see her that way and I must have been like 19 or 20 at the time?

Well check this out! Today on the Huffington Post I found this article that dealt with something important to me - clean water...Freshwater! And A. Milano was involved - what?!

There is a lot to heal in the world, and the list seems to keep growing as time brings more things to light. As most of you should know in some way, it ranges from overall poverty, famine, lack of water, genocide, prostitution, and lack of education, to a hundred different things; and they're really entwined together. Anyways, I want to start with Water because I think a lot about that being the building blocks of life and also the building blocks of spiritual life (baptism).

Here's the article (not so great) but great cause!

"If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water." - LORAN EISELY

I'm giving up my 37th Birthday and it has nothing to do with vanity or nearing the big 4-0. I couldn't care less about numbers as they pertain to my age. I do, however, care about age when it pertains to those throughout the world who don't make it to their 37th birthdays because of a lack of clean drinking water and proper sanitation.

As a goodwill ambassador for UNICEF and the founding ambassador for the Global Network, I've traveled to the field and seen firsthand the devastation left behind by waterborne illnesses. On these trips, I've run the gamut of emotions that range from mind-bending anger to heart-warming hope. Upon my return from the field, I count my blessings, and then as time passes, I become frustrated with myself that I'm not doing more to alleviate the pain of those I met on my journey.

It is because of this very frustration that I decided to give up my birthday. I have everything I could ever want or need. All I want is to provide life-giving water for 10 communities, 500 families and 2,500 people. This is my Birthday wish. In lieu of spending money on a party or presents, I'm asking people to donate to my Charity: Water campaign and help make my wish come true.

Charity: Water is a grassroots non-profit that was founded in 2006. In just a little more than 3 years, they've engaged more than 75,000 donors around the world, and raised over $13 million for operations and water projects. 100% of public donations directly fund water projects. They've funded 1500 water projects in 16 countries that will serve over 800,000 people. Simply put, Charity: Water, funds clean water projects that save lives.

Currently, almost a billion people in the world don't have access to life's most basic need: clean and safe drinking water. That's 1 in 8 people on the planet. Over 200 million people right now have a water-related disease called schistosomiasis... It's a fancy word for parasites. Worms. When you see a heartbreaking photo of a malnourished child with an extended belly, that child most likely has this waterborne schistosomiasis and no matter what food or nutrients you give them, without proper medication and clean water they most likely will not survive.

As we take a sip of our water from the fridge and don't think twice about it, there are people that have to walk hours a day fetching unsafe water from remote areas. Imagine that. Imagine having to walk for hours and hours, every day, just to retrieve contaminated water that will most likely get you sick and maybe even kill you. And the time spent collecting this water, keeps children out of school and women from pursuing economic growth. Not having access to clean drinking water perpetuates the cycle of poverty.

No child should ever die from a preventable cause and 4,500 children will die TODAY from water-related illnesses. This year, in this country alone, we'll spend about 450 million dollars a year on presents, decorations and "stuff" for Christmas. That is enough to give everyone on earth clean, life-giving water, a couple of times over.

I believe it is innately within us, as warriors of the human spirit, to give to those less fortunate. Sometimes, we just don't know how to go about doing it. If this rings true for you, I encourage you to watch the below video, be inspired, and join me by starting your own holiday campaign today athttp://www.charitywater.org/holidays.

The story of charity: water - The 2009 September Campaign Trailer from charity: water on Vimeo.

What up Ya'll!

Hello! I have missed you my friends. Shall write more soon.

Check this cools shit out in the interim.

I have just been singing the hell out of the song "Five to One" over the last week or week and a half. Standing smoking I'm banging my feet on the ground, last night I was walking in step with the beat (dragging my boot for the double beat) while singing it. I have no idea why! Must be something magical about the song - that sounds most scientific and sound.

I also learned it so I can perform it. Its a) super easy, and b) there really is something about the song because something takes me over when I sing it...maybe my beard is channelling the Ghost of Jimmy M.

Most of the lyrics to this song, the rhythmic drone, just the whole thing man! And I love how you can see that 'spirit' in Joshua James - though that young man has it regardless.

He was raised a Mormon and had to hide his records from his parents because they would smash them (literally). His dad always said, "Unless you want to dig ditches, you gotta get an education." -

Well Joshua left college three years ago and just now days his dad is starting to come around because he was very worried that his son wouldn't be able to support his wife and home. Really cool. I have been sort of transfixed by a few songs, but haven't given the whole album I bought (support his family!) enough of a listen. And also I bought his first one I think, I don't really know, I just love what I've heard so far - and especially this song, and probably most importantly because he reminds me of me in some ways. On the radio he said something like, "You have to give it everything you can and make it as authentic as possible; you have to believe and feel what you're singing because you only really get one chance with that audience - and I think if you're doing something authentic people connect with that." - a bit of a paraphrase. But that's how I feel about performing music, so of course I'm going to like him! However his music stands good by itself too.

Talk to you later man,

el Karan

St. John on the Cross

One of my favorites of all time.

Just amazing.

It robs me from myself; and I hand myself over joyfully.

The Melodrama, and Wonder, that is...Pablo Neruda!

"DON'T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying"

[I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair]

- by Pablo Neruda

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

"I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood"

-Pablo Neruda

The Haunting of Sylvia Plath

"If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.

You leave the same impression

Of something beautiful, but annihilating.

Both of you are great light borrowers.

Her O-mouth grieves at the world; yours is unaffected,

And your first gift is making stone out of everything.

I wake to a mausoleum; you are here,

Ticking your fingers on the marble table, looking for cigarettes,

Spiteful as a woman, but not so nervous,

And dying to say something unanswerable.

The moon, too, abases her subjects,

But in the daytime she is ridiculous.

Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand,

Arrive through the mailslot with loving regularity,

White and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide.

No day is safe from news of you,

Walking about in Africa maybe, but thinking of me."

'The Rival'

by Sylvia Plath

Part of my morning routine is opening a book of poetry. Today Sylvia Plath took hold of me. I saw a picture of her which for some reason entranced me on Monday night. She has such soft features, like a palpable love resides in her face- and at the same time it shows the burden of her painful existence. Her face crowns itself with a low-rumbling strength that her laugh lines betray (for me at least). Her hair is taken care of, but that's about all - her outfit shows some attempt at loving herself but a loss of the feeling of love within her - as if it was so large it exploded and left residue inside her heart. Her collar bone whispers into the heart about her absolutely God given femininity. Her eyes, even static and frozen in the photograph, make me feel as if she is gazing right to the most basic core of my heart. That fertile empty ground that most people do not have the courage to behold right away; that core goodness in all of us which for some reasons frighten most of us. Her eyes, her look, doesn't even struggle, it just looks right at my molten center - and then I feel she understands it all enough to teach me about it love me for it - and even love me more maybe? I don't know [shrug]. But her look puts me at peace and it feels I am not so crazy - if crazy at all. Like the world is crazy, and so everything I am is seen as wrong - but that she understands, and that she felt it too, and that she cares and loves me for being one of her and is happy to be one of me. I don't know my friends, or non-friends, this picture makes me want to love her and so keep her from what happened to her, to the best of my ability. I don't know, I feel crazy even typing this - but maybe Sylvia knows...

She looks like a girl gone, or going mad; as if to be at peace with the madness driving her to suicide. Her power and might buried under a pretty dress and a broken heart. Her mouth gives it all away.

I can imagine her poem was for her ex-husband, or husband at the time, I haven't done the adequate research on it yet, if I will even. Her mystery breathes out of that photograph, breathing it's complete lack of defense and open story. She is so amazing that Bob Dylan (who I clung to back when I was 15) makes better sense as I get to know her and her poetry. She is like those others I was opened to, who are blessed and cursed with an unflinching ability to dictate what hearts say. To use always failing words to still somehow convey what the feeling is - or if anything, since all is so dynamic, place a feeling deep within oneself.

Welcome to my group of dead friends Sylvia; this is probably one of more letters to you in our new relationship - where ever you may be I hope you know how much I appreciate you. Even the way your name 'Sylvia' is spelled, its so beautiful. Thank you for sharing so openly and in turn, helping me open more to myself. I guess it's God through you and in me hmm?

Karan

Dive in

Just a few minutes ago I was walking towards my car through some snow which was worn down by footsteps and had some grass showing through it. I am wearing a fat checked shirt (blue grid on white), a blue sweater vest, a skinny shiny pink tie, skinny faded jeans and my boots. I had on my overcoat and my blue scarf I enjoy so much. I guess the grass was wet or/and my boots have no actual traction. I took a dive. Blam. In the matter of seconds I was luckily up trying to get all the snow off my overcoat and looked to see if anyone saw me fall. A group of three smokers looked on but I didn't understand why they weren't laughing like I was. Is that polite? must be - it doesn't matter; but it made me realize something fun about me.

In situations like that I wish I could watch myself fall, like physically outside myself. I can't imagine it wasn't hilarious and whenever I do this (seems like at least once every winter - at least) I laugh my ass off - so watching myself might be even funnier. To laugh with concern.

One can be lovingly concerned for another while still enjoying what is objectively enjoyable. It doesn't show any 'evilness' to me but rather the ability to truly enjoy life. No over reaction, no drama, just a loving concern and a love for how little we are even at 27 when we take the same dive every winter has brought us since we were little little. Hahaha. We're still so little. So big we're little. God's little babies at every age and beyond death.

Try it out; feel a loving concern while still laughing, it's awesome. Like feeling a loving concern is awesome, and laughing is awesome. I don't know what I'm saying anymore, it was funny, so is this - you're full of love.

Karan

"Your Highness"

I don't know?
James Franco, Danny McBride, Zoey Deschanel, and Natalie Portman?
A movie where Danny McBride plays a lazy, pot-smoking price named 'Thadeous' whose brother 'Fabious' (James Franco) is the shining star of the kingdom and whose bride to be 'Belladonna' (Zoey) gets kidnapped by an evil Wizard (Justin Theroux); and so the brothers embark on epic comedic adventure to save Belladonna wherein they encounter Isabel (Portman) who is an elusive dangerous warrior with her own agenda? Oh, oh yeah, and it's directed by David Gordon Green - the man behind 'Pinapple Express' and 'Eastbound and Down'?

Phew! You got some big shoes to fill movie! Looking forward to seeing some clips!

It's in post-production, and was filmed in Ireland - for a budget McBride says could make it "retarded" (his words not mine!). It's supposed to have an 80's fantasy movie feel about it (think Conan the Barbarian meets Princess Bride and they make a love child...then the child turns to vulgar language and pot smoking).

Set for release Oct. 7th, 2010 but dates are subject to change!

And Because Love Battles

"I lived in the praries before I got to know you"

- Pablo Neruda

Yeah, ya'll should probably go read the whole poem. First off, I could quote nearly any part of it (it's that perfect), and not only will the picture make lots of sense (or maybe not?), but then you'll also be reading Pablo...oh Pablo, how do you know what I'm saying better than I'm saying it?

[long sigh & dreamy girl eyes for Pablo]

Jodie Foster will make you laugh.

If you're familiar with comedian Zach Galifianakis, it's probably from his stand-up with the Comedians of Comedy or his appearances on Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! (John C. Reilly and SNL's Will Forte also guest on the show.) And you're probably used to being alone in your fandom. But soon you'll have company. Lots of it....

...We sat down with him at a bar in Brooklyn one Saturday afternoon.

ESQUIRE: Guinness?
ZACH GALIFIANAKIS: I think it's like dough. It's like eating a couple of pieces of bread to soak up the other alcohol.
ESQ: Yeah. I tried to get into it but just didn't like it enough.
ZG: The only reason I got it is because I thought it'd be cool if you wrote it down in your article. [Laughing.] No, I like Guinness. But I do have to ride my bike home.
ESQ: Do you have a helmet, or do you trust the beard and hair for safety?
ZG: I do not have a helmet. But this is a wig, so it's a little protective.
ESQ: When did the beard start?
ZG: Well, I have never been much of a groomer. I take baths a lot, but I don't wear deodorant. I don't have to. I have a miraculous body scent. I've had women smell me and say that should be bottled. I would advise guys to lay off the Drakkar, because the cavemen weren't wearing it. They might have been putting mint leaves on their balls, but [your scent] is grown naturally. I have really good dating advice.
ESQ: If doling that out doesn't work, you sure have a lot of other things going on right now.
ZG: I don't know how to say this without sounding like an asshole, but I have, like, seven movies this year. It's been busy. Working's new to me. I don't like to have anybody tell me to be in a place at certain times. That's kind of the advantage of stand up. You're self-employed.
ESQ: But there are some perks to this lifestyle, right?
ZG: Nothing's really changed. I mean, not yet. I don't want my personal life to change. I don't understand why people strive for [fame]. I know it's ironic for me to be saying this in an interview, but um, this will be the last one I do.
ESQ: So you don't like answering the same question all the time about how you write a joke?
ZG: I just write shit down, get fucked up, and say it on stage. There's not much to it.
ESQ: Does this mean you're going the way of Joaquin Phoenix?
ZG: I'm going to go steal what he stole from me? Yeah, I'm going to go do that. Steal my persona back from Joaquin.
ESQ: I guess you do share a look.
ZG: It was kind of funny when he was on Letterman. I've gotten a lot of e-mails about that, people saying it's too similar to me. I don't really look at it that way.
ESQ: Anyone else stealing your look?
ZG: Jesus. Rasputin. Bruce Valanche.
[Galifianakis offers to move his coat off a barstool so that someone can sit down.]
I hate standing in bars. I'm very sensitive to it.
ESQ: My problem is trying to get a bartender's attention.
ZG: What you do is take a fanny pack with a couple of beers with you to the bar. You tell the girl you're gonna go get some drinks and come back two seconds later, and she'll be like, "I didn't want a Bud Light. I wanted a martini."
ESQ: You really are good at the dating advice.
ZG: Another thing I was thinking about recently is the movie-going experience. Should they not have softer food that they serve than the nachos and popcorn? What's next, rice cakes? It drives me crazy. I went and saw the Watchmen. Have you seen it?
ESQ: Not yet. How'd you feel about it?
ZG: I really liked it. But I almost walked out because it was so long.
ESQ: That seems like a movie your fans would love.
ZG: I guess. Losers. I have a real disdain for my audience.
ESQ: That's good, keeps you sharp.
ZG: My whole point is this: You can't think of funny shit, sitting at home by yourself? You have to come watch me do it? A lot of that's tongue in cheek, but I kind of do believe it. I don't like the way they look, sitting there, all so ugly.
ESQ: So some of the anger in your shows is real?
ZG: I don't know. It's hard to tell sometimes. But no, I'm the most mellow person offstage. I think it's just, going onstage lets me get out some frustration that I'm too shy to do in real life. Instead of doing it in private, I'd rather do it in front of 1,000 people who've paid $25 to see me lose my mind.
ESQ: Now they only have to pay ten bucks to see you do it in The Hangover.
ZG: I'm proud of The Hangover, but to be in movies like this, which are really the only places I can get work, it's really quite the opposite of what I am. I like sensitive art-house movies. I'm not even much of a partier. I mean, I'll drink myself into oblivion alone in my car —
ESQ: In your car?
ZG: Don't put that in there.
ESQ: Parked in your car. So where do you think you got your sense of humor?
ZG: My family has really good senses of humor. Even my great aunts in Greece. When you have a 79-year-old great aunt stand on a table while you're eating dinner and squat to show you the correct back position for taking a shit... I think certain people kind of have it in their blood a little bit to have a sense of humor. You're raised in it.
ESQ: Are your friends funny? Are they mostly comics?
ZG: Yeah, it's like, if you were... I'm sure you hang out with-
ESQ: Other nerdy writers?
ZG: Well, people you work with. It's the same thing. You go to dinner. I was out with friends the other night. I realized how nice it was to hang out with all these comics when there's not any bitterness. Because there's a lot of... what do you call it when there's, uh, in-sleeping, people sleep with each other... in a band?
ESQ: Incest?
ZG: Right. My sister and I have an improv group.
ESQ: Incestuous.
ZG: It's very incestuous. It's like Fleetwood Mac. But that's kind of faded with time. Everybody had a really good attitude. We wanted to hear each others' stories versus this, "What pilot are you on?" David Cross was there.
ESQ: You remember that guy in Manhattan a couple of years ago who posed as David Cross to get women?
ZG: I vaguely know about this. It could have actually been David Cross. The only reason I joined MySpace was because some 16-year old kid in Alaska uploaded my picture and was e-mailing girls saying, I want to fuck you. Which is so funny. Clever. I was like, Man, good luck. You picked the worst — maybe in the bear community he'd have some luck. But I had to get my identity back.
ESQ: So how much of your role in The Hangover was improvised?
ZG: A lot of it. That's why you hire a comic, so he can put his stamp on it. Todd would let us do things with the script — like jerking off the baby. That scene was not in the script. There was a prop doll, and I was just fooling around, waiting for a camera to get set up. I took the little doll's hand, and I was like, "Todd, look." And Todd said, "We got to put that in the movie." And I was like, "No, No. I don't want to."
ESQ: I can see how you wouldn't want to be the guy helping a baby masturbate.
ZG: Ed Helms was concerned it was illegal. So Todd had to ask the parents for permission. I've told people about that and they're horrified. But they misunderstand. They think it's my hand.
ESQ: I think my favorite scene was when you flicked your hair, walking down the hall with the other guys.
ZG: I've got to be honest with you. I've been trying to do that hair flick in something for a long time.
ESQ: Do you have a bank of stuff like that that you draw on when you want to make something funny?
ZG: You put a little thought into it. You might make a note in the script. But that hair flick... it's more in the moment. Doing small things like that — subtle stuff — it's really fun to me. If you're comfortable, it's so much easier. I just did a Disney movie where I didn't get a chance to do that. I was uncomfortable, and I think it shows.
ESQ: If nothing else, your oeuvre is widening. Are you still going to do stand-up?
ZG: I do whatever comes my way. But I get burned out on stage. It's a lonely world. I think part of the romanticism about being on the road is you get to meet a lot of — my mom once told me, "You've probably got a woman at every port." Like I'm a pirate. Obviously she doesn't know her son that well.
ESQ: Or you just haven't gotten enough exposure. Maybe The Hangover will make that easier.
ZG: Oh God, I hope not. The few times that I've been stopped by community-college kids, I try to be nice. It's not an inconvenience, but I would never want it. I mean, I just could just shave my beard, and nobody would recognize me. Although I look like Jodie Foster.
[To the bartender:] Can I get one more Stella? Before the bike ride?

By Peter Martin for Esquire Magazine -

For my Grandma with my Grandpa's face-

I love you darling.

Ah sweet sofia - Ha!

My relationship with a snake.

One time, when I was very young and asleep by my mothers breast, a snake came and bit my fleshy hand. My eyes shot open, the world was green, and I saw it’s black and red tail slither off into the grass. I wailed and woke my mother up to tell her what had happened.

With all the tenderness of a mother she searched my body for the bite mark and put the back of her palm on my neck and forehead and checked both my eyes and told me to stick my tongue out and say “Aaaaa” - all while she herself was in such a panic. She held me close while she called the family doctor to rush over. He looked at me with his lights and tools and even his naked eyes of experience, but like my mother, he could not find where I had been bit and no foreseeable illness in me. They said it must have been my imagination and patted me on the head and gave me a lollipop; but I knew what I saw and I knew that if I didn’t find the snake I would be seen as a little fool and even as a liar! And who knew – maybe it’s venom was so pure that it was killing me as I thought about all this...

I asked to be excused and ran to the grass outside our house to find any trace of the snake. At dinner I lied to my mother saying I was not feeling well enough to eat but would prefer to stay in the outside air. I was very hungry but would not pass any opportunity to see this snake and grab it by its throat and make it confess.

Another year went by and another year and I still had not found this snake; almost daily I grew more and more impatient. Every time I thought I saw him and instead found a wet stick or a muddied group of straw I would become more indignant, more impatient. Even my dreams became restless with the anxiety that the snake would appear at night and I would miss my opportunity to grab it by the throat and force its confession.

Another year passed and then a decade and another decade. I did not take a wife and my mother became very ill. I would tend to her but with a great display of inconvenience for she knew that I wanted to be out in the field hunting for my snake, hunting for my confession that would prove I am no liar and no fool. I would lie to my mother about having to work and leave her with the maids so that I could have a few hours before sunset to hopefully come upon this wretched snake.

When my mother died I set up my home in the woods and lived on the remains of her life’s work. My beard grew long and grey and my hair was always unwashed. I would only go into the town once a week to get enough supplies so that I could stay in the woods searching for my snake, hoping for its arrival as long as possible.

I began eating less so that I could make it longer without going into town. I remembered fondly my mother and thanked God for the work she did in life that I was able to pursue the wretched snake with no need for work now. I often cried thinking of having to lie to her or not being able to take care of her when she grew older – and I knew it was the snake to blame. My impatience and fear that I would happen to miss him grew to a hatred for him. How dare he not return? How dare he ruin my life like this and never show his face again?

More decades passed and I imagined the snake to be happy with his family and full of laughter at how he had ruined my life and taken the last few years of joy with my mother from me. My beard grew longer, down to my chest, and my hair reached beyond the middle of my torso. If I would find this snake I would not only make him confess to me but torture him and kill him as I was tortured and dying...

One night I heard a rustling in the grass and as always it sent an impulse through my body from my heart which felt like fire shooting stars through my veins. An explosion; a chance, an opportunity, I ran and ran and saw a tail and reached out to grab it and slipped on mud and fell with my face into a puddle. The tail was only the reflection of my hair, now matted in dreads and down to my waist. The moon shone bright enough for me to see myself after many years in the puddle and I wept bitterly at what I had become. In the shadows I appeared to have the head of Medusa where once my childish locks framed my soft face. My tears created ripples in the water and my old lips reached down to drink. I drank myself in form and in emotion and fell asleep with my face in the puddle.

The next morning I looked again, but there was no use, the snake was nowhere if it ever had even been. Maybe I had been a liar? And if not, then I had become one by my obsession. Maybe I had been a fool? And if not, then surely anyone could see how foolish I had become for so many years. I had given my life for the opportunity to see the snake that bit me, for the chance to make it confess; but in the morning sun, it became clear that none of this was the snakes doing.

Another year passed and another; I slept at night and through the days rested under a tree. In the immensity of eternity, even an old man as myself has his whole existence in front of him.

Another year and another year and three more decades – I must have been nearly a hundred years old by now. The sun was up, and as thousands of times before, I heard the grass move, and still somewhere deep inside me an impulse instructed my eyes open and for me to move to see if I could find a red and black tail – but the peace of eternity quieted that voice and I remained peaceful and resting under the tree with my eyes closed again. If this snake would come to me so be it, if not, let it be – how much more life was I going to waste chasing it?

I could only hear my breath but then the sound of the sand moving and the grass rustling gently opened my eyes.

Its red and black tail was as vibrant as ever and for the first time I could see it’s face coming towards me. So terribly I wanted to reach out and grab it, but the peace of eternity kept me quiet to enjoy all the rest of this life span I could; still closer the snake came, and closer till it began crawling up my folded legs and climbing my beard. It circled around my neck and looked at me face to face after one hundred years – but time is nothing in the peace of eternity.

My arm moved and I put my fist around the snakes neck and pushed it away slowly and gently; thinking to myself I could slay it now, I could make it confess, I could have all I wanted. But to my surprise, the snake seemed to have read my heart and spoke first saying, “I did bite you.”

“I bit you and my infection cursed through your veins for eighty years till you grabbed for your own reflection and drank yourself the night the moon showed you your own head of Medusa.”

“My venom was impatience. You allowed it to boil in your blood and make fear. Its effect was a wasted life spent chasing and in fright. But why would you kill me now? You are not the same person that was chasing and searching and frightened and angry are you? I have had no effect on you, I only hurt who you once were.”

My mind could not think, my eyes stared unflinchingly, shocked. My heart knew this truth all along, the snake was my own impatient striving; my own and fear and anger (my hurt disguised). The snake asked me finally, “So will you not put me down; I do not know you stranger, only who you once were, and you have cured that man of my venom with the peace under this tree you live by now.”

I lowered my arm and as I loosened my fist about the snakes neck his teeth sank deep again into my fleshy hand. My eyes shot open, the world was green, and I saw a black and red tail slither off into the grass. I sighed deeply, a child again, and fell back asleep against my mothers breast.