Strike

this morning i went to the wga strike rally at fox and had a life-lesson in solidarity. in a flagrant rip-off of jonathangrubb, i shall list 5 things i learned whilst striking:

1. solidarity is sweet.

before i continue and make lighthearted, jabby observations on today's rally, i formally fully support and endorse the writers' guild cause. it brings to mind a wga-written-blockbuster line my dad always quotes:

"the future is here, and as of now we are keeping score".

thanks, top gun.


2. everything is a marketing opportunity.

when (mostly) rich white men go on strike, people give out free stuff. from "necessities" like starbucks and noah's bagels, to a brightly colored and strategically parked yerba-matte van, the sponsers were laying it on thick. undoubtedly vying for primetime product placement as soon as everyone gets back to work--or just to be caught in the background of a billy baldwin interview.

3. "getting the right shot"

we wondered why 4,000 people were pacing a picket line down a closed-off street, with no car-honking opportunites. then we looked up at the flock of helicopters hovering over our heads, getting the best aerial-strike-shots of all time. they really do know what they're doing down here when it comes to production value.
take that, nightly news.


4. apparently, solidarity is also about schmoozing.

actually, everything is about schmoozing. what is 'schmoozing' anyways? when my boyfriend gets drinks or breakfast (or both) with his co-workers, it's called "work". when hollywood people do it, it's schmoozing. whatever. i'm just glad i got to ramble the streets, feel the pulse of the industry, and take pictures with...

5. hot cops.




thanks to the completely awesome reno 911 guys for showing some leg-- and ALL of the other actors who got it up for this momentous occasion. if more sag folks make it out, it will not only strengthen the cause and sag's future, but also be richtor. hey-- when your show gets shut down, don your finest and hit the streets!

New "Blue Eyes" acoustic track w/ Cary Brothers

yes, sony finally gave us an acoustic version we recorded this year of Cary's hit song "Blue Eyes", off the grammy-award winning "Garden State" soundtrack.

i recently recorded some dark, acoustic versions of catherine wheel anthems "Crank" and "Black Metallic" with their maker, rob dickinson. there is exactly one cackload of new music on my site: www.kestrin.com

where's the lightsaber?

Look closely, can you find the lightsaber in this photo?



thanks "the fray" dudes for having us play with them out in ny, at jones beach. it was my favorite 15,000 seat venue gig ever.

Taipei, Taiwan; September 12th, 2001

On the morning of September 12th, my New Zealander friend was walking to work. An old chinese man flagged him down and made the hand/arm gestures of a plane flying, followed by a massive explosion. He then pointed at my friend and laughed.

Being abroad is an extremely bizarre way to experience war--especially when you are from the United States. You are uncloistered from the American propaganda machine. There are no flags in your front yard. There is no FOX news. There is no patriotism. There is no enemy...

There is only international CNN, which ex-pats would watch as though it were a baseball game. My Australian friends would say, "Let's watch the war."

And we did.

Taipei, Taiwan; September 11, 2001

It was night time, it was my birthday, and I was about to get wasted with my friends. As I strolled the streets of downtown Taipei to my favorite bar, I passed a massive electronics store that showed the image of a plane flying into a high-rise building on every single wide-screen television in the 3 story window display. I stopped to watch and found myself standing next to a group of ex-pats.
"What's that?" I asked.
"The World Trade Center," they responded.
"Where?"
"In New York City."
I looked at them. They looked kind of schlubby. I didn't believe them.
I stared one of them directly in the eyes.
"You're a fucking liar," I said. And walked away.

30 minutes later had I met up with my friends and firmly executed operation "shit-housed". When the televisions in the bar turned on, repeating the image I saw in the electronics store window, I thought, "Holy shit. The schlubs were right!"

Being what I had already had about 5 shots of tequila, I quickly became a streetwise philosopher. I mused that those who had lost their lives in the destruction were already reincarnating as we spoke and, individually speaking, their souls were just fine... until my friend (who's birthday it wasn't, and was slightly less intoxicated) said, "Kestrin. The Families." Then I remembered Daniel. His dad worked at WTC tower 2, which I'd just watched collapse.

A war had started, and I was not there to participate in it.


after the blast 9/11/2001: somber/wasted/crosseyed-- that happens, apparently, when i drink too much: