6B -Whe Michigah Daily Weeki, etc. Magazine ThursdWSeptember 16,1999' !
c State of the Arts
DAVID LYNCH, FRUITY PEBBLES GO ON A UEST OF LIFE

ml a . - -. --- - 1


OT LATE NIGHRUFOR THE BORDER


"Siddartha" and "He-Man" give me
much joy. I love David Lynch and
Cameron Crowe films (except for that
overwrought "Jerry Maguire"). I wear
Darth Maul boxers, eat Fruity Pebbles
and lately, my cd player spins the likes of
Moby, Belle and Sebastian and Peter,
Paul and Mary. My girlfriend's name is
Ricca and my best friend's name is
Munch. My family includes both my
parents, two step-parents and my sister
Kim, who started her first year of college
at MSU.
Allow me to introduce myself. My
name is Chris Cousino and I am the new
Arts Editor this fall. I'm also a junior
studying film and English.
So that's me in one column. Well, I

hope not all of me, because then I'd have
to be one boring guy. And who knows,
maybe I am a bore. But I'd like to hope
to not. I have these dreams of one day
being a director, screenwriter, producer,
actor extraordinaire (maybe I got some
weird Welles thing going on,). But, "to
be in that business, you gotta have some
'umph!,' so said a professor I met at
NYU this past summer. "If you don't,
then you will be film professor."
"Umph!" What does it take to have it?
Are you born with it? Is it something you
learn? Can I buy audio tapes that teach
the secret to "Umph?" Or is it more ethe-
real, like, maybe it comes from the Force
or God or something. Who knows? But I
do know that when I pass in life some 80

years from now, I'd love to look back and
say, "Man, at times, I had 'umph."'
To get there, I think I have a fun and
simple solution. Every January, my
father and I sit down and write on three-
by-five cards what we want to do in the
next year. Then we go out in the world
and try to complete our ideas. At the
year's end, we reconvene and see where
we end up. This summer, I was lucky
enough to participate in the New
England Literature Program (item num-
ber one on this year's card). There,
inspired by my father's cards, I came up
with my solution that will hopefully lead
me to say that I had "umph."
I call it, "the lifegoals of christopher
clayton cousino." Here goes:

- I want to always love my family
and cherish their splendor, of faults and
wonder, their humanness -- I am them
and they are me.
-I want to create a family of my own
when I am (can) wholly (give) myself.
- I want to hike through forests and
mountains with my six-year-old boy and
show him beauty and an appreciation of
nature.
- I want to enjoy, enjoy, enjoy.
-- I want to travel around the entire
world ... everywhere baby.
- I want to climb the towers of
Zimbabwe, walk the desert pyramids of
Egypt, safari in the Heart of Darkness,
back pack through Europe, pilgrimage
the Holy Land, walk the Great Wall,
climb the Himalayas, surf the Great
Barrier, float in the Tsongas, volcano
flow in Hawaii, swim with the sea turtles
of the Galapagos, experience Macchu
Piccu, sail Cape Horn, smell snow in
Alaska and then, America.
- I want to find my spirituality again.
What is God? Is he (or she) God, Jesus
Christ, the Buddha, the Wind, the Earth,
Samantha Ganey, my father and mother,
a friend, me?
- I want to make "good" movies
(right now, a landscaper film, an intelli-
gent teen romance and a big budget, live-
action "Johnny Quest" with Russell
Crowe starring as Race Bannon),
- I want to write a novel.
--- I want to edit an indie film maga-
zine in some big city so I can define if
my criteria goes by "how much a movie
sucks."
- I want to own a comfortable home
without lots of grandeur that has both a
room plastered wall to wall with movie
posters and a bathroom with a picture of
Janet Leigh hanging across from the toi-
let.
- I want to learn to fly.

- I want to understand the word
"magic" through the eyes of the
teacher/poet Erica Freeman. '
- I wish I could learn the Force and
become a Jedi.
- I want to always jump on large
piles of sand or dirt.
- I want to be in my 60s and still
watch "Scooby Doo."
-- I want to
take my mom to
the Academy u'
Awards.
- I once
hoped to be Peter
Pan and fly off to r
Never-neverland
and play with .
Indians and fight
pirates all day -
now I hope never
to lose the 10- Christopher
year-old boy that Cousino
some people see
inside of me. State of
-- I want to ,
make love on the
bow of a sailboat
somewhere in the ocean, floating off into
that eternal place, "off in the horizon."
- I want to sing in a Shura rock band
with the name Dr. No and the Spectres.
- I want to learn guitar so I can sit up
into the creeping night and play James
Taylor and Simon and Garfunkel songs.
- I never want to quell the urge to run
in a cornfield. "Dooowhit," my dad
would say.
I want to be Christopher Clayton
Cousino. So, that's what I want to do in
the next 80 years. But forget about me. I
wanna hear your lifegoals. Write 'em
down, shout 'em out and fly.
- Christopher Cousino is hanging
with the Little Kid. You can reach him On
email at ccousinoCa umich.edu

Year in and year out, Ann Arbor is
lauded as one of the most beautiful,
most interesting cities in the nation.
Publications, local and national both,
spew forth the most complimentary
praise of the town's landmarks,
tourist destinations and other points
of interest.
They can't :
seem to say
enough about
the great peo-
ple, places and
things to see in
A nn A rbor. S I f u
I'll do just the
opposite.
I decided that
I'd focus my Chris Kula
column on the
features of Ann Unsung
Arbor that Ann Arbor
remain safely
out of the main-
stream eye.
For every classy restaurant, there
are a half dozen greasy spoons that
never get close to mere mention in
"Midwest Living." And for every
notable man of the arts featured in
"Current," there's a gaggle of crazy
mofos off the street 10 times more
compelling - and hilarious.

Hence the title of the column,
"Unsung Ann Arbor," which I
thought was a little more appropriate
than "The Freakshow."
Speaking of freaks, lets get this
avant-humor show on the road and
talk about one of Ann Arbor's true
dining treasures - the Taco Bell on
East University.
I don't know how many late, week-
end nights I've found my way
through the disorienting, alcohol-
induced fog swirling about my head
to find myself sitting in one of those
oh-so comfortable mock-wooden
booths, swallowing down mass quan-
tities of beef, beans and ghastly com-
binations thereof.
For the inaugural episode of
"Unsung," I had no choice but to run
for the border (and then to the bath-
room so I could vomit after actually
using that pun).
Like I mentioned before, the bright
neon sign that shines through the
front window often acts as a-beacon,
guiding me to the promised land.
There's just something about the
taste of an original taco after you've
had several snifters of brandy (or, as
is more often the case, cheap beer)
that is totally satisfying.
I'm almost beginning to think that
there's some sort of special Pepsi Co.

copyrighted ingredient that reacts in
a violently delicious way when it
comes into contact with even the
slightest amount of alcohol. The
folks at Backdoor certainly know
what I'm talking about - they use
the same thing in their pizza.
But I digress.
The East U. Taco Bell doesn't
deserve acclaim simply for its food.
The Lynchian cast of characters that
function as the restaurant's employ-
ees are equally responsible for the
surreal dining experience that is the
Bell.
For instance, there's the bespecta-
cled gentleman who, when finished
preparing your food, shouts out your
order in the most lilting of tones.
"Two beef baja gooordiiiitas," I've
heard him say on numerous occa-
sions.
Once I asked him if he had any
formal training in order memoriza-
tion. He looked at me kind of awk-
wardly for a second, his eyes glazed
over and he took a deep breath.
"Two beef baja gooordiiiitas!"
Okay, then. I'll just take my food.
Oh wait...what did I order again?
"Two bee-"
Ah, yes. I remember now.
Then there's Jaime, the ex-patriate
from Nicaragua who was more than

willing to talk to me. After serving
up my seven layer burrito, he lead me
into the alley next to the Taco Bell
and began explaining the plight of
the rebels in Central America.
He asked if I was willing to fight
for my Latino brothers. So I asked
him if he simply hadn't noticed my
red hair and distinctly European fea-
tures (by the way, treats to the person
who can successfully determine the
nationality of my last name, Kula).
Jaime shook his head and said that
as long as seven layers of rice, beans,
guacamole and cheese flowed
through my body, I could consider
myself just as much a Latino as
"C.H.I.P.S" star Eric Estrada.
I still don't know how to react to
that one. But I do know that if I ever
get a chance to patrol the California
highways alongside Larry Wilcox, I
can die a happy man.
Once I was verbally attacked by
the woman working the late night
shift (who, coincidentally, bore a
striking resemblance to a guest I'd
seen on Springer that very morn-
ing).
I had apparently walked into the
store though it had officially closed a
few moments before and had had the
audacity to order some food - you'd
have thought I was in a restaurant or

something.
"Who the hell let you in here? Are
you blind, or can't you tell we're
closed?" she asked me in a less tian
cordial manner. My response? "Yeah,
can I get those tacos to go or what?"
She liked that comment about as
much as Tom Goss likes the phrase
"Ed Martin on line one."
Employee weirdoes straight out of
Tom Waits songs aside, the East U
Taco Bell has brought me nothing
but satisfaction (and the obligatory
abdominal pain, as well) during my
time at the University.
And with the cheap prices and
friendly hours, it has the potential to
do the same for all types, from
nihilist GSIs who obsess over
Pavement lyrics to hockey ticket-
holding dudes who furnish the walls
of their house not with paintings or
posters but with the ever-charming
Budweiser "Welcome Back '99"
banners.
Taco Bell, Toxic Hell - call it
what you will. In any case, it makes
for the perfect end to a drunken
night. In fact, I think that's how Taco
Bell is being marketed these dayt4
"When your head's spinning and
you're seeing double, you get twice
as many tacos! Taco Bell-stumble
on in."

FILL IN OUR BLANKS.
JOIN WEEKEND.

E i
.i

dituasni sscount ticket price avaiable
at she Michigan Union Tickel Office.
aXlZ Only $12 50 for a 1 day paSs
BEER TENT for 21 + with I.D.
Gallup Park is on Fuller Rd
amoss frorm Huron High School
www.a2.bluesjazzfos.org
zturday Sept 18, Noon'WI 8pm GALLUP PARK

Sunday, ept 19, Noon'tIlSpmn GALL UP PAR
Big BillkugIIsU
ika.~taaa.5,a4. . o tnnc.,e 5555125&5.daFM k show',5~nd t b~5~ddaa
Media n e- ?' if