fringeofacity

100ish Words: Chronicle

2012-02-07T14:31:00.003-05:00

Found-footage filmmaking, one could argue, sacrifices some combination of storytelling, human elements, and direction in order to portray fact or realism. When successful, it engages viewers so immersively that its entertainment and imagination far outweigh its shortcomings. In the shockingly-low budget (by Hollywood standards) science fiction film Chronicle, debuting director Josh Trank and screenwriter Max Landis, along with the film’s fresh-faced star Dane DeHaan (In Treatment), succeed where others before it have failed: they’ve constructed a convincing tale of teenage angst, fear, wonder, and super powers through a (mostly) first-person lens. These young creators take surprising chances and very delicately sidestep the pitfalls of the fictional documentary genre to fashion a compelling film.

Grade: B+
> Cloverfield (2008)
< [Rec] (2007)

100ish Words: Underworld: Awakening

2012-01-21T11:09:00.006-05:00

The pessimist says producer Len Wiseman and directors Mans Marlind and Bjorn Stein used the success of Twilight and the storyline of Resident Evil to "reawaken" interest in its own property, the Underworld series. The optimist rebuts that while this fourth installment lacks any character depth or passable plot-sense, it makes up for it with action, gore, and some of the best-looking 3D today. In Underworld: Awakening, Kate Beckinsale returns as Selene, the double gun-toting, black leather-clad Lycan hunter, woken from a 12-year cryogenically suspended state hell-bent on revenge (or something, who cares). That’s really about it: fun and popcorn, people. Flash and forgettable.

Grade: D+
> Resident Evil: Extinction (2007)
< The Twilight Saga: Eclipse (2010)

Food Me: Asia de Cuba

2011-08-08T18:20:00.008-04:00

With an untimely closing in October looming in its horizon, it was high time to check out the notorious hip hangout Asia de Cuba and its spirited food fusion before it closed its 27-year old doors for good. And since NYC Restaurant Week extends until September 5th, we had the opportunity to sample a variety of dishes at this family-style favorite for a fraction of the price ($35/pp, 3-4 guests share 2 appetizers, 2 entrees, and 2 desserts- “portioned accordingly”). Kathleen, Eric, and I made our reservation last week and arrived Sunday early evening for what turned out to be a strange summer meal.

A hot and humid 88-degrees made the trek to the Madison Avenue restaurant an exhaustive experience- not to mention my worry about the “casually elegant” dress code putting me in heavy jeans and a rolled-up black button-down. Sadly, as it turned out, my “business shorts” would have been quite welcome inside the Morgans New York Hotel restaurant as the Sunday evening clientele (and staff) seemed much more relaxed and casual than the swanky, trendy crowds of most likely later in the evening. A prickly wave of artificially controlled air bit at our faces and necks as we waltzed into the establishment as it prepared itself for its dinner crowds.

The first thing you’ll notice at Asia de Cuba is an affinity for white curtains. White drapery everywhere. Shimmering, bright, and spotless, the white curtains envelope the entirety of the restaurant, from floor to twenty-five foot ceilings at some points. A balcony of tables looks over the center of the room which holds an extremely long, high-raised communal table for at least thirty guests to share meals and stories while taking in the open space. I imagined groups of ten or twelve children with unattentive parents commenting on the table’s Florida retirement home-styled high chairs. Neon red lights dimly lit its linoleum (or polyvinyl?) floors and our square marble table as we took in the very Cuban-slash-Miami-esque decor. We spent the majority of our arrival looking for the “Asian” influence- aside from the hollow, plastic chopsticks waiting on our plates, the closest thing to Asia were some creepy white-faced Spanish portraits and an eighteen-foot waterfall picture that seemed to be the centerpiece of the restaurant. You know, an Asian waterfall.

Our meal began with beef dumplings two ways- one fried and crispy, smeared with a plum sauce, and one steamed with coconut rice and sitting in a mango ponzu (Japanese citrus sauce). The crispy dumpling definitely stood out texturally and flavorfully than its steamed counterpart as the plum sauce made for a strong compliment to the mild dumpling. I had higher hopes for the steamed appetizer, but while cooked correctly, the flat coconut rice was even more bland while our taste buds searched for the missing lemon mango flavoring promised to us. It left a less than sweet sensation to an otherwise delicious dinner’s beginning.

Next on our plate was the Asia de Cuba calamari salad. While I was preoccupied with concern that the portions of our dishes would fail to fill us, my fears changed to worry that we would not be able to finish our meal after seeing the mountain of greens set before us. Mixed into the salad was a lightly sprinkled sesame orange dressing and a combination of calamari (not quite fried, nor quite grilled- baked maybe?), banana, cashews, hearts of palm, and other little flavorings that made for a tasty yet inconsistent dish. Personally, I would have preferred it with no banana altogether, or at least a banana chip substitute to keep the flavor but change the texture. The calamari was a delight, albeit lacking in quantity amid the jungle of chicory and squash-like chayote on my plate. The dish seemed large enough for four people, though I eyed couples tables around us who were drowning in salad seas of their own while we waited patiently for our main courses.

Arriving at the same time were the stars of the show, sweet soy wild salmon and honey-rhum glazed pot roast of pork, along with an a la carte recommendation of lobster-boniato mash. In a word? Heavy.

The salmon sat atop a healthy portion of sauteed mushrooms and cucumbers, and it was large enough for the three of us. The meat of it was a beautiful pink color but didn’t stand out after a few bites. However, where the fish lacked in flavor, the mushrooms and the marinade picked up the slack, almost to its detriment. The escabeche was very acidic, almost like a filmic buttery taste, and it overwhelmed rather than complimented the fish. The most memorable part was the thin, crunchy skin that extended throughout the entire salmon. And though the mushrooms did merit some praise, I was less inclined to finish the dish and hoped my fellow foodies would polish it off for me.

Pork pot roast- words that have little chance to fail me in my dining experiences! This dish came loaded with generous helpings of sauteed bok choy, fried plantains, and mushrooms, yet even with such a hefty supporting cast, the pork stood out by a long shot. The slow-cooked pork melted on the tongue, its tenderness overshadowed only by its fully rich flavor, and its sides were a perfect, savory compliment to the honey-sweetened centerpiece of the dish.

Finally, a Thanksgiving dinner-sized helping of lobster mash entered the meal, and though a very tasty side, the dish seemed out of place. It was topped with chives and perfectly creamy (though I personally prefer a little more substance in my mashed potatoes), but it never met a butter stick it did not like- the large pieces of oil-lubricated lobster trapped inside seemed to suffocate under a blanket of margarine. The dish might be more sensibly paired with the char sui short ribs, which seems to be a simpler dish than the pot roast, or it may have been better suited with a combination of the pork and marinated crispy tofu instead of the heavily “marinaded” salmon. No matter.

We had little opportunity to recover from the lavishly rich courses as not one but two dessert cakes awaited us at the end of the food marathon- the Cuban Opera, a toffee-sprinkled, coffee-mousse infused devil’s food cake symphony of delicious, and the coconut invasion, a coconut layer cake served with warm fudge and cool coconut-flavored ice cream. Each dessert provided its own argument for superior dining finality. The Cuban was unforgiving in both size and richness and heavenly to any chocolate connoisseur- almost like a tiramisu on steroids. On the other hand, the coconut cake was texturally superior, with a perfect blend of sweet, soft, warm, and cool to accentuate the coconut shavings on top. One or the other may provide a signature richness to a heavy meal- both... well, Asia de Cuba does nothing but delight in its over-indulgence.

The Asia de Cuba dining method- bigger portions served family style- works in its favor in that it allows for a variety of foods to reach a larger number of people with different palettes. I imagine the large, centerpiece table filled elbow to elbow on Friday night, conversational cross-sections of food comparisons, trendy decor impressions, celebrity scene-spottings, and the like. And yet I think of a normal dining experience amongst a few close confidantes getting swallowed whole underneath low neon lights pillowed by these twenty-foot white curtains.

Asia de Cuba doesn’t want your small party of two or four to be overshadowed by the New York nightlife scene- it wants you to join it. The restaurant may have lost a few patrons with this mentality, but for 27 years it made no apologies as one of the city’s trendiest food hotspots. I entered the restaurant somewhat apprehensive about Asian-Cuban food fusion and left the meal somewhat confused about its name but less so about what the evening meant as a food experience. The dishes are heavy and for the most part tasty. At Asia de Cuba, you go big or you go bigger, as there seems to be no room for the niceties of intimate, delectable dining. But hey: sometimes you just want to go big, and Asia de Cuba will let you do that- at least until October.

Asia de Cuba
237 Madison Avenue
(Between 37th & 38th Street)
New York, NY 10016
(212) 726-7755

100ish Words: Captain America: The First Avenger

2011-07-21T12:52:00.002-04:00

The feelgood superhero film of the year, Joe Johnston’s Captain America: The First Avenger follows scrawny cadet Steve Rogers’ transformation into America’s super-soldier with rousing success. Surprising performances by Stanley Tucci and Hugo Weaving and solid work from stars Chris Evans, Tommy Lee Jones, and Hayley Atwell create a well-crafted, character-driven environment in an admittedly campy 1940s comic book world. Ultimately, the story strays away from Cap’s journey at times in order to connect some confusing plot minutia whose sole purpose seemed to be preparation for next year’s Avengers film. Far from flawless, Captain America still manages a necessary balance of attitude and platitude to create an engaging and action-packed summer blockbuster worthy of the Marvel moniker.

Grade: B-
> Green Lantern (2011)
< The Rocketeer (1991)

100ish Words: Sucker Punch

2011-03-24T13:00:00.005-04:00

From burlesque femme fatales to giant Mecha-samurais and steam punk Nazis, Sucker Punch titillates the imagination with the promise of a belt-loosening feast yet settles into an unsatisfying fast food meal. Director/producer Zack Snyder's wildly expansive vision aside, the lack of narrative cohesion combined with an ambitious yet ultimately unfulfilling storytelling structure steal from what should have been a satisfying treat to a hungry audience. The so-so script makes Snyder's admittedly wondrous world less appetizing as he force feeds set piece after set piece. Sucker Punch is an all-you-can-eat buffet that doesn't quite fill the plate or sate the palate.

Grade: C+
> Alice in Wonderland (2010)
< Pan's Labyrinth (2006)

Fits me like an Infinity Gauntlet

2010-12-22T13:09:00.006-05:00

With the holiday season upon us, another year will go by with my #1 guilty pleasure Christmas gift wish list topper about to pass me by: the Lego Star Wars Ultimate Collector's Millennium Falcon. It isn't so much the Star Wars homage as it is the architectural triumph of completing this more than 5,000-piece Lego behemoth. And while I'd like to think that one day I'll have the gall to gather the wealth and reclusiveness to drop over a grand on this fine piece of Americana, I find it to be a highly, highly unlikely enterprise. And fruitless too, except maybe to a bucket list somewhere.

However, I have this idea. What if, say, you were to look up the schematics for this venture. I'm sure the instructions are available online somewhere. Now all one really would need are the pieces, right? And aside from a few oddly shaped flat-edges or one-ers and two-ers here and there, how hard could it be to accumulate 4,000 general Lego blocks and a thousand or so "special" pieces? There's got to be a freaking LegoLand somewhere nearby.

A noble adventure or a fool's errand? This is my Thanos Quest. It seems a hell of a lot cheaper than dropping a thousand bones on the real thing. Or maybe I'm a maniac.

Here goes nothing.

Why don't you all just fade away?

2010-12-20T11:30:00.006-05:00

I've begun to question my invisibility.

Sometimes it becomes a game to me, being awkward for sanity's sake. I catch other people's awkwardness all the time- it could be an odd way to scratch one's leg while standing in a subway car, a peculiar method of slurping morning coffee, etc. And yet these are oddities that I embrace about people; they're the lifeblood of significance, which is sort of the point of everything IMO. It isn't that people should always try to stand out from a crowd- solidarity has its own merits, of course. But it's important to know who you are, where you stand in your goals blah, blah, blah. These things matter. These are the little things that add up to make you important, relatively speaking. And everyone should be damn important in their own minds.

But there's always the ever-present need to disappear. If Superman were so inclined, he wouldn't need his Clark Kent alter-ego as an escape- Kent represents Kal-El's need to feel human, and one human characteristic he so desperately craves is to not stand out.

Invisibility is a luxury afforded to the poor, anonymous souls among us. It is the caviar on our stale Ritz crackers. We are born into it, deny owning it, and most of us breathe our last breath wishing it away, but the truth is that we enjoy being able to disappear. The rich and powerful in our society spend time, effort, and cash for this ability, but it's as fleeting to them as notoriety is to us.

Part of me loves that it's taken me, and everyone really, a lifetime to achieve invisibility. Anyone who's read Richard Ellison's Invisible Man will tell you social reticence is both self-inflicted and societally expected. Modern cultures want to leave large and uniform footprints, not ones imaginative in their jagged quirkiness. For a society to thrive, it is assumed that the marching majority needs to be governed and led while outliers need to be ironed out, ignored, left behind, or assimilated within. And for the most part, we choose to disappear because it is much, much easier to fade into the black than to shout in what equates to deep space without being afforded the luxury of oxygen or a voice. It really is that difficult to stand out...

...but the loophole exists. It's in the everyday. Awkwardness is the lone wrinkle on an invisibility cloak. Sure, fifteen minutes are spared to each person to stand out, but that in itself is a sham- everybody gets their fifteen minutes. Greatness or extreme badness has weight too, but glory fades. Every conquerer and every great man or woman gave way to another, and then another, until perspective began defining the greatness rather than its own merits standing alone in that moment. What sticks out the most, what leaves a lasting impression and tears away the shroud that hides us from each other is weirdness. The total lack of logic separates us from us and lifts us from the nothingness we fear into the purpose we crave. There's a scene in the 2004 film Garden State that exemplifies this: the epileptic Natalie Portman contorts her body and speaks gibberish towards Zach Braff's expressionless (yet equally horrified) face. She explains that what makes her existence important is that very moment, an action in time so absurb in its uniqueness that it will never happen again. Her point is that life can be full of these little rare nothings, and that gives us weight and purpose, even if you're in New Jersey.

I didn't mean to get this philosophical. I really just wanted to comment on how I wore glasses to work today and as a result, every five steps someone is there to let me know about it. Tomorrow I think I'll come into work wearing a straitjacket. It'll blend into the hysteria over today's eyewear and I can finally get some work done.

Remember that Cranberries song? This isn't about that.

2010-11-17T14:49:00.004-05:00

There are no zombie Tamagotchis.

Google would disagree, says its 944,000 hits. But here's my point: where is the digital pet cemetery? What ever happened to little girls and boys taking care of keychain toys housing "living" creatures? If I remember correctly, said care of electronic faux-pets died with emo, maybe because of emo, but I can't recall if digi-pets themselves had a lifespan longer than their battery life.

Tamagotchi took the living world by storm in the mid-90s, sneaking into homes and keyrings by the millions, capitalizing on the human weakness of impulse buying. All of a sudden, parents were being punished for leaving their children in front of televisions so that they can ignore and desensitize them, while hordes of greedy children cried in unison for a digital pet. And of course, they had to catch them all.

Years pass. Children learn the cruel nature of nurture, cleaning electronic excrement and petting digital dogs and cats until their thumbs bled from all the "gaming." One day, five years into the hauntingly endless lifespan of a digital butterfly, the child thinks to herself, "What the hell? Still alive? This is stupid." Lightbulbs go off among the masses, and the Tamagotchi craze crawls back into the night with Gigapets and Digipets not far behind. Little did they know they've been trained for a generation of Sims and Farmville video games, but that's another story.

What happened to all these pet toys? Or rather, what happens to all these pet toys after neglect? Part of the glitz and glamor of the digital pet was that neglect was part of the contract. You leave a live puppy alone in your closet for a few days, you'll open the doors to half-eaten sweaters, poop-stained dresses, and an immobile, deceased fur patch in the middle of your jeans pile. Tamagotchi let you forget about the responsibilities you begged and pleaded your parents to give you. It's the American way. But neglect and ignorance doesn't feed these creatures- they live on batteries and incessant neuroticism. And they don't forget.

Imagine a cyber community of malnourished, neglected digi-pets, huddled under information superhighway bridges and gathered around flaming watch batteries. Picture the heavens open up while a familiar yet distant thumb presses down and a ragged, abused cyber teddy bear floats helplessly to the sky. What does it say when it meets its maker, so to speak? Did programmers consider this outcome, the post-neglect, five-year reunion pet personality? Will the cyber pet exclaim, "Where have you been?! I've been dying to see you! Literally! Feed me! Clean me! You are a terrible person!" or will it say, "Hi! I'm your new pet! What's my name?" I think the world loses just a little bit either way.

I was never given the opportunity to raise a digital pet, regrettably. If I did, I would probably be one of the millions of abusive pet owners today. I would pop in a couple of non-corroded batteries, thumb down on the power button, and hope for my digital pet to appear, love, and forgive me. I would fear pushing that power button and the screen illuminating to the dead carcass of my neglected digital creature. What I would not see, however, would be the undead, reanimated body of a Tamagotchi pet bent on revenge.

Because there are no zombie Tamagotchis.

Getting rid of music, the old fashioned way.

2010-09-14T10:35:00.004-04:00

There is a song stuck in my head, and because of it I am slowly dying.

Mental record players that begin to skip are never a good thing. Songs that you love turn to mush, either from overplaying or from your incoherent recollection. Terrible, terrible songs that you may have heard in passing stick to your brain like an alien symbiote to Peter Parker during a secret war, suckling on your core until you don't even recognize yourself as you hum along to something ridiculous (with a creepy smile on your face). Friendships crumble when your confidantes begin to recognize the pattern of hanging out with you and equating it to hearing some song over and over again, and you complaining about it every single time. All interminable songroads lead to you inevitably exclaiming, "A pox upon me!"

Mind you, I'm not talking about singing to yourself (but really out loud) either. That has its own issues- read Perks of Being a Wallflower or sit in a New York City subway without wearing headphones and you'll recognize the issues immediately. It's the over-and-over-again feeling, what I'm sure one of Dante's circles of hell has become, the notion that the song will never, ever disappear from your days and weeks, and the begrudging acceptance into your musical being, the internal playlist that cannot empty into a recycle bin no matter how many times you've hit the delete button.

And yet, it does disappear. Just like that. Sure it may rear its ugly head like a pregnant ex-girlfriend or a pimple, but for the most part, the song slinks away into the darkness of your soul where it belongs.

How does this happen? How does a song that has terrorized you, aged you, desocialized you... how does it just up and leave like that? Yes, you began to treat it badly, maybe roughed it up a little, verbally and emotionally abused it. But it was always there for you and now it has left without a trace, taking its lyrics, its melody, and even its key. This is what you wanted, right? You wanted to see other songs; you weren't a one-song kind of person- that's what you said. That's what you thought. But the song that was once a stalwart in your incessant day-to-day, no matter how terrible or how "core" to you, has gone Salinger missing. It's what you wanted.

Sometimes, what I'll do is play the song in its entirety, soaking in every last note and croon and then immediately delete it, hopefully forever. This only works if it's a song I happen to own- with the terrible, it's look it up on Youtube, close, forget. Normally, though, I just bombard my senses with loud. Or watch TV. Trying to kill the song is pointless, because sooner or later, songs up and leave on their own merit. It's not just the musicians that burn out or fade away. But then again, music does have a way of living forever. I just wish Billy Joel's "The Longest Time" didn't know that, no matter how much I actually like it.

Fantasy football, the number six, and how I really didn't want mojo.

2010-09-10T12:28:00.000-04:00

Football began yesterday. Awesome.

With American's game comes what actually keeps me interested in the entire league besides my sad, beloved Cleveland Browns: fantasy football. I didn't play last year- I'm pretty sure it was tied directly to my expectations of how the Browns would do and whether or not I'd want to even watch good teams playing while me and mine drowned in the shallow end of a bottle watching Cleveland sputter along. That isn't to say I'm playing fantasy football because I have it on good authority that the Browns will end up with a winning record this year- I wouldn't be wasting my wishes and miracles on Cleveland sports (hmmm... then again?). It's partly because I'm paying for NFL Sunday Ticket on DirecTV because I forgot to cancel the renewal, thus "forcing" me to watch every game I can this year and giving me a reason to care about them.

It's also because I want to win this stupid thing.

Fantasy sports always struck me as odd. I grew up reading comics, watching cartoons, playing tag and card games. The only fantasy I knew was Magic: The Gathering (which I didn't play) or D&D (which I wanted to learn but never did). What seemed funny to me was a bunch of hardasses looking down on "fantasy" kids while they themselves sat at home meticulously going over statistics, strengths, and schedules that were, in essence, the same thing. I would argue that fantasy sports is even lamer due to the fact that the drafters and gurus are idolizing other people, athletes who provide less to creativity and imagination than any spell-casting metaknight can. And for someone that grew up (and continues to be) a glorified geek, it's even stranger that I avoided both of these role-playing games as much as I did. Maybe now I'm just catching up on missed opportunities of my youth, but that doesn't explain the millions of people that play fantasy football today.

Fantasy football is a sports fan's excuse to obsess over something and be brazen to the outside world when he or she is ostracized for becoming a hermit on Sundays. It's the reason bars open early in the fall, why they have ridiculous numbers of HDTVs, and why wings are cheap but beer is only a dollar off.

It's why I think the dichotomy between jocks and geeks is so fascinating. And that's that.

(Note: The rest of this blog post tabulates my draft results- it's like a stream of consciousness without anything insightful to anyone not following their own fantasy football team. That's a warning.)

Which brings me to my draft and how I worry.

Sometimes you just need to go in with the mentality that you need to take the best available player. I expected the worst, as always. Forget the top 5 picks- be ready to draft one of the top quarterbacks or Andre Johnson in the first round. Enjoy a season's worth of mixing and matching mediocre running backs and look forward to that crazy week when half your team is somehow on a bye. This is the part of fantasy football that you're supposed to research; it's also the part which I generally avoid, to my detriment (I shudder for Week 8). And like clockwork, I ended up with the sixth pick in the snake draft.

Picking sixth, especially in this draft, seemed difficult. After Chris Johnson, Adrian Peterson, Maurice Jones-Drew, and Ray Rice, who do you want? Is Michael Turner or Frank Gore the one who takes you to the title, or do you snatch one of the elite QBs?

The draft began with CJ, AP, and Rice being selected around, surprisingly, Aaron Rodgers and Drew Brees. MoJo had fallen into my lap! And then it hit me: I really didn't want MJD. I didn't plan on getting him, and I wasn't prepared to create a team around him, especially at the #6 pick, which picks every ten spots. Getting him earlier lets you plan for getting an elite QB or WR and a solid RB2 with your next two picks (since in a snake draft, you're really planning on two at a time at that draft slot), which is essential when your next two won't be coming for another 16-20 picks. At number six, you're sort of relegated to taking the best available player each round (one can argue this should always be the case, but others will laugh at you for drafting four RBs in the first four rounds while your WR1 is Brian Robiskie). At any rate, the BPA was MJD, which should be A-OK. This is obviously a case of seeing the good in your opponents and flaws in what you see everyday, since Jones-Drew is a consensus top 3-5 pick. It just didn't sit well immediately after I pocketed the stud RB with the gimpy ankle. It's the same feeling I had a couple years back with Steven Jackson or Gore. That turned into a mess and a half.

After a few other solid RBs got selected around Peyton Manning, strangely, the WR run began. AJ, L-Fitz, and Moss were gone in a heartbeat. Do I risk missing out on a top WR1 by drafting a solid RB2? No, no I do not. Reggie Wayne it is. Austin, CJ, Roddy and Colston soon followed to make it a decidedly WR round two. Sadly, before my 3rd round pick, the last of the super-solid RBs got selected, as did Tom Brady.

Here's where it all went fantastically foolish.

Matt Schaub, the QB I was hoping to nab in a few rounds, went in the 3rd. A couple picks later, I panicked and selected Tony Romo, missing out on my chance to solidify my RBs. In Round Four, DeSean Jackson was the BPA, so now I get to sweat out whether or not he does something explosive or expletive-ridden to my team. I'm smiling through gritted teeth.

I managed to finally get my RB2 in Beanie Wells in the fifth round, which was solid at that spot, and Ronnie Brown fell to me in Round 6, which could be a great pick. Here I thought I'd change it up a bit and pick up a WR3, and Donald Driver was good value in the seventh. But when I looked up and saw five tight ends already off the board, I grabbed Tony Gonzalez instead of stabilizing my stable of injury-prone RBs, despite plenty of good TEs being available. No sweat, right? Just pick one up when it comes back around. How about WRs Johnny Knox and Kenny Britt in the next two rounds? Ugh.

When I came to my senses, I looked at the board to see the missed-out-on RBs taunting me. Names like C.J. Spiller, Arian Foster, and Jerome Harrison sprinkled throughout rounds eight through ten. Confused and disheartened, I took Philadephia's defense in Round Eleven and finally settled on Cadillac Williams in the twelfth. I was surprised when Reggie Bush was available in Round 13, and I rounded out Team Injury-Prone with Stafford as my backup QB and Phil Dawson's leg kicking my field goals.

All in all, my team, like most teams, isn't half-bad. But like a lot of teams that are made without any research done beforehand, mine has its share of problems. Most of my RBs have a history of leg injuries. My starting QB and TE weren't good values at their spots considering the talent picked behind them. And like I mentioned earlier, the byes on Week 8 are going to be ugly, with my TE, K, and DEF all sitting and giving me little wiggle room to work any magic.

It all stemmed from getting MJD at the #6 spot, fortuitous on paper, but a draft flummox that killed my mojo before I even began.

Oil spills are accidents, and therefore not cool.

2010-09-07T13:49:00.008-04:00

We all know recycling is cool. I mean, there's nothing not cool about it, right? Go green, they say; who cares that it costs an extra dollar here and there? As long as we keep our earth clean from the evils of throwing away plastic bags from Key Foods. I get it. Recycling is cool. That isn't to say that "keeping tidy" is cool, because clean is not "cool."

Because you know what else is cool? Littering. Littering feels so good. Have you ever thrown something out of your car window, something as miniscule as a cigarette butt or as accident-inducing as a 20 oz. bottle of Sprite? If you have, then I'm not speaking to you, because you're cool and you don't need listen to no one. Littering is awesome. I think I love to litter. Not so much in parks or in the woods or anything- I mean, littering to be a dick to the environment sort of feels wrong, though I'm sure it's less "feeling wrong" than it is "I don't care either way." I'm talking about littering city streets, your workplace, your home in some aspects- places that generally get tidied up in due time such that you may litter again and keep the fun cycle going. That's the given. Things that are wrong are generally the things that feel good, at least in an ephemeral sense before you realize you're a horrible person. But that's besides the point. No one is arguing that Tommy Lee is a saint, but we all agree that he is cool. Because he probably litters, because littering is cool.

(Aside, I really could go on and on about how great it feels to litter, but that's not really what this is about. But just to be clear, littering feels good and is cool. Recycling: cool. Littering: cool.)

You know what isn't cool? What prompted this besides all the stupid oil pipes bursting and destroying our ecosystem? Captain freaking Planet.

I hate Captain Planet.

First, there's his look, the greenish, toxic mullety haircut. It looks like someone took a toxic crap into his shampoo bottle. You know who else had crazy green hair? The Joker, and he killed a bunch of people, albeit very coolly.

Then, there's the idea that he's somehow a hero. Because he's "gonna take pollution down to zero." Really, Mr. Planet? You're going to eliminate pollution. What kind of world would we live in without pollution? Well, one without Captain Planet, that's for awesome. And I'm not saying pollution is great, but I'm not going to go on and elevate the guy to "hero" status for saving the trees every once in a while. I mean, yes, he has elemental powers, sure, but having powers doesn't make you a hero. Neither does preventing corporations from dumping waste into the ocean. That makes him an environmentalist who can fly. Big whoop.

And isn't his kryptonite pollution? If I'm in the camp of not liking you, does it not stand to reason that I would enjoy that which does Planet harm, entertainment-value speaking? And since I really only enjoy littering, not the wide spectrum of pollution, doesn't getting some intrinsic joy in that make me feel more empty inside? Does it not make sense that I would despise him even more?

Not to mention the fact that Captain barely does anything. He says "the power is yours" and lets a rag-tag team of united nations do his "dirty" work before they realize how pointless it is to be fighting environmental hazards when a superpowered, self-proclaimed "hero" can just fly in and do the deed. I get that Planet wants other people to "do their part" and pitch in, but doesn't that just make him lazy? I mean, sure, he's a great environmentalist, but hero? Not so.

"We're the Planeteers- you can be one too!" Now does that mean I too can be a self-proclaimed hero? No! The Planeteers don't think their heroes- they know they are just a bunch of environmentalists out to clean up the mess that is the world. I suppose heroism should be admired, idolized, replicated. But for going green? Didn't we all agree that cleaning the environment is something we should all do? Does that make everyone a hero? Does that make heroic levels unequal? Am I done?

I may not like pollution, but I like litter. It's a release. It provides jobs, too, mind you. That may make me a horrible person, but while I wouldn't purposely cut an oil pipeline, I'm not going to say the guy that repairs it is a hero. He's a fixer. A repairman.

And who made him "Captain" anyway? Himself, probably. Since he made himself a "hero" too. Is there a Planet Ship? Does he answer to General Planet? I'm done with this.

Oil spills are not cool, though. I think we can all agree on that.

If I were a tree, I'd have forgotten where my roots are. And then fall.

2010-08-26T12:16:00.004-04:00

You know, it's weird to think about dreams. Weird, as in difficult, really, because the moment you wake up, if you're not some neurotic dream keeper with a notebook on your nightstand (ahem, me), then the dream world is something that never escapes your mind and only appears in what some think is deja vu or in vague instances of recollection.

Well, that's how I feel sometimes about conversations I have with people.

There's really no excuse for not remembering those intimately imbued impressions about life, love, and the pursuit of non-poverty. Well, inebriation is AN excuse, but not a good one. And I have no excuse for not being able to paraphrase the conclusions of the great minds of the casual acquaintances and happenstantial bullshitters I frequent. Alas, it is so.

Example. This morning I engaged in an oddly in-depth discussion about how a song like "Oh Susanna" fares in the neighborhoods of urban children versus a rural upbringing or even a suburban inbetween such as my own. If nurture and nature coexist or fight for the imaginative prowess of children, and if that imagination is something children lose in adolescence or choose to ignore when they think they know better. I can't remember the conclusion of the argument- IIRC, which I don't, it had something to do with the American educational system being a joke as well as its fundamental dismissal of fostering an artistically-driven learning environment. I don't know, a colleague and I got really into it. Regardless, this is the type of conversation that drives me, no matter how important or banal its origins. But it's one thing to value them so wholeheartedly for argument's sake, which has its own kind of value- one ingrained in human interaction, "practice" for oral interpretation, or just plain time consumption- and it's an entirely different thing to come away from them with a new point of view- maybe not one with which you agree, but one that one of my learned university professors would have called "a window to a new perspective," which is to say she had never said that, but I can't remember that conversation for the life of me, as important to the core of my being as it may very well have been.

(An analogy I can sort of intimate is that of Mega Man, a Capcom video game character whose existence in the wide scope of gaming history is pretty much pointless and yet it holds a place in the pantheon of my old school gaming <3. Early incarnations of the game (and likely the more recent ones too given the cyclical nature of video game series, but I can't argue that which I haven't played) pitted the titular character against a number (usually eight) of robot enemies, each of whom employed its own skill set which you would inherit upon defeating it. Some skills would become more than useful against some enemies while others proved to be useless against others. Consequently, these 8-bit interactions have come to represent the conversations and arguments in which I attempt to become engrossed. When a friend or colleague (robot enemy) engages in a friendly discussion (battle) with me (Mega Man- yes, that's right), it deviates into an attempt to understand (defeat) the colleague and achieve his or her point of view (skill set/power). Maybe that viewpoint becomes a vital part of my being or in future discussions (Metal Man), or maybe it was a waste of time (Flash Man). Either way, enlightenment only happens after tasting all the super samplers of ideas I can stand.)

You get the point, maybe.

I suppose I would want a reader to come away with something broadening and whimsical about this one-sided conversation, but like a dream, the point of it all gets lost in the haze of waking life, and I wouldn't recall having the discussion anyway. I suppose the best thing I can look forward to is the appearance of future wonderment and the knowledge that it exists- that it hasn't yet become a victim of growing up. That is something.

Still fighting the good fight

2010-08-20T11:42:00.001-04:00

(Editor's note: I wrote this yesterday but passed out doing so. Enjoy.)

"It's funny how nothing seems much fun
Anymore to me now that I quit the drink
'Cause soberness, it might be what I need
But, it's certainly not how I wanna be

Cause nothing seems much fun anymore to me"

-NOFX's "Quart in Session"

I wish I had a glass of water before I fell asleep last night. That usually does the trick- the trick, of course, being the ability to function like a semi-functional human being worth a damn on a Thursday. Regardless, I had a fun night. (I think.)

August 18th marked the four-year anniversary of my (and Eric's) move to New York. I wouldn't even say it was the City that we moved to that makes the day special, although it can be argued that New York, the fickle and unforgiving mess she is, is one of the toughest places where people go to see if they can "make it." I don't adhere to this belief because really, anywhere you pick up your stuff (or consequently shed that which you cannot afford to bring) and attempt to settle becomes the home you work hard to "make work."

No, it wasn't the anniversary of us and the City becoming the power couple. It was the move that we (well, at least "I") celebrate. It was getting out of Ohio, not because I hate the place (because that seems to be the popular notion) but because of the person I'd become living there. It was getting away from complacency and normalcy and the personal mundane. I could have moved to Chicago or Pittsburgh, San Antonio or Tallahassee- it didn't matter where I went, it was just time to get away from the person I was.

Well, that plus my girl (now "wife") lived in NYC. So there was obviously that.

Opportunity meets enlightenment. It didn't take nine months for a bastard like myself to appear soon after. Just that long to find a decent enough job, but that's another tall tale.

So last night, I drank what seemed like "not that much," but the order in which I did so did me in. Punching a brick wall (apparently) and passing out on the G train (twice) tells me I haven't changed quite so much in my four years. But damned if I wouldn't do it again twelve months from now.

Happy anniversary, new me. You're old. Buy a hat or something.

Things I Remember From Last Night (Before I Blacked Out)

2010-04-23T07:56:00.002-04:00

The Royale (with cheese) burger was pretty freaking amazing. Noted the beautiful pink middle surrounded by a grilled-to-perfection charred layer and the neat presentation and accommodation while devouring. Don't forget to breathe.

Conversation about the validity of Tool, the band, and also somehow comparing Green Day's "Jesus of Suburbia" to Metallica's "Master of the Puppets" and being completely serious.

Free wine is the end of me.

The Cavs lost to the Bulls by two freaking points, ruining my sweep prediction.

The Browns drafted Joe Haden, who I wanted, but I was disappointed, thus proving that I would be a terrible draft guru for an NFL franchise. That's why I'm not one.

Discerningly looking at artwork while peeing. In the bathroom, creep.

Nine Inch Nails' "Closer" swirling overhead at the gallery. Entirely my fault.

Not getting mugged despite being quite obviously wasted.

Missing my train stop and having to walk an extra nine blocks to get home.

Also, somehow I lost my contact lenses. Yes, I'm too old for this...

The Legend of NYC: The Adventures of Metro Link

2010-03-10T11:31:00.007-05:00

I don't know about you, but living in (or in my case, just outside of) New York City sometimes feels like an overwhelming adventure. There's the "how long can I wait before leaving the house for work" game in which you test the Metro rail and traffic gods on your commute into or out of the city. Another favorite is the "how many people fit on this train? answer: everyone plus me" game during rush hour. And for some people new to the city or just visiting, there's the "okay, why the hell is this one city divided into six hundred factions and what's up with the numbers, letters, and colors on this subway map" game, in which everybody loses the first time around.

Rather than get all down and out about your trek throughout the hustling, bustling island of Manhattan, maybe you should view it as a gaming adventure. Over at 8-Bit NYC they help you do just that. When you see the city in pixels and in eight-bit, you might find that this world isn't really all that complicated- and without nearly as many villains too! Word of advice, though: as you make your way around the Manhattan world map, it's probably best not to walk into random homes and stores, breaking open pots and containers expecting to find gold. If you do, "game over" may come sooner than you hope. Just a suggestion.

On the Fringe of FlashForward

2010-03-04T12:58:00.003-05:00

With FlashForward returning to our Thursday night ABC television lineup on March 18, I revisited the pilot episode to remember why I should care. After all, these hiatuses seem less to be about a show's artistic integrity as they are about competitive marketing strategies and boosting public interest and DVD sales (and hell, it worked for Battlestar Galactica and more currently Glee, so it almost seems justified). The brainchild of David S. Goyer (who has since stepped down as showrunner) and Brannon Braga is a science-fiction series with an inspiring, frightful, and curious premise: what happens when the entire world's consciousness experiences a global blacked out? The real question is, do I still want to know?

Upon rewatching the pilot, I definitely enjoyed the episode, but when held to such lofty standards as ABC's hit series Lost, whose unashamed use of the term "flashforward" paved the way for this series, it doesn't (yet) compare. What makes Lost such gripping television is its adherence to character development and the relentless pursuit of this in the absence of maybe a more "serial" story. Absolutely, the writers will try to rehash this formula in some way for the show, but I think they blew their load in this first episode.

"No More Good Days" did a great job setting up the story, but maybe the first 17 minutes of this show is the best it could ever be, as the rest of the episode seemed unrealistic and far too quickly paced in terms of character reactions, conclusions, revelations, and above all acceptance. These are all faults; a few more lines of exposition here or a couple of empathy-driven scenes there might have created a less hurried feel to the overall story. Then again, the show itself might not be as substantial as what we want to imagine.

This first episode had all the flaws of any good idea gone awry. While we get to see a world of people take their visions to heart, what happened to all the people who don't believe in these visions? And of course this Mark character will be the head investigator of the phenomenon, because, you see, his vision shows he will! Oh, and this Doctor Bryce something or other-how quickly he can go from suicidal no-show (which he even explains he had been building towards for a long time prior to his vision) to pre-destiny believer. Honestly, I get that some people will want a vision to come true and adhere to it, but why not show the (majority of the) population who probably thinks it's nonsense as well?

Despite its flaws, the show is not without highlights. Once again, the beginning sequence of the characters flashing back to the 4 hours prior to the vision showcased some very compelling storytelling and some entertaining and necessary character introduction. And the revelation of the final scene definitely keeps up the interest for conspiracy theorists, political dramatists, and us Lost fans who can't get enough prime-time sci-fi. The premise itself is enough to keep an audience, and the writers have a good track record backing them up. However, as the story unfolds, the lack of any grounding, emotional resonance will make this show pale in comparison to what it could have been.

New episodes of FlashFoward return to ABC, bringing back questions and, very likely, hurried answers. Despite the myriad of mysteries surrounding the flashforward and the characters impacted by the global phenomenon, maybe the biggest question of all is whether or not we will be watching. In two weeks, that question will definitely have an answer.

Food Me: Mitoushi Japanese Restaurant

2010-03-04T11:58:00.000-05:00

For the random sushi fix, Shinjuku at 177 Atlantic Ave. in Brooklyn was choice. It was local, inexpensive, and above all, good.

And now it's gone.

In it's wake is Mitoushi Japanese Restaurant, a chain restaurant with other locations in Brooklyn and Staten Island. We stopped in for a meal and sat close to the window, in the low table area separate from the rest of the restaurant, not expecting the most authentic sushi bar experience-sadly, we kept on our shoes before taking our seats. Rather, we simply wanted good, fresh sushi and a solid Japanese cuisine experience. Speaking with Benny, our waiter for the evening, we found out that the restaurant will be getting a major facelift in the coming weeks to better represent the new ownership and to better accommodate guests (we found out our low table area may be getting the premature axe). One thing that won't change is the delicious, affordable menu which we had the pleasure of enjoying Monday evening.

At $2.95 per basic roll, Mitoushi definitely fits the budget-conscious sushi connoisseur, but the drop in price does not come with a drop in quality. And for a little more out of your pocket, their specialty rolls do not disappoint-try the Lion King, a beautifully presented concoction of shrimp tempura and cream cheese topped with eel and caviar.

For starters, the bright, pleasant sushi chefs prepared for us "tako su" on the house, delicious and thinly cut octopus sprinkled with a vinegar sauce. This dish melted sweetly on the tongue and made for a great opening number. We then tried the basics: side of edamame, lightly salted and marvelously crunchy; fresh and delicious spicy salmon and tuna rolls; and hot sake to cleanse and imbibe in the atmosphere. After a few special rolls, we later added pieces of tako (octopus), hamachi (yellowtail), and maguro (tuna), to a meal that delighted our palettes as each plate arrived.

After our third bottle of sake, the night felt as warm and inviting as our gracious and generous hosts. At numerous points throughout dinner, Benny and several other waiters, servers, and hosts stopped by our low table to see how we were doing. While this may have been an annoyance for some, their genuine faces and demeanor made it less an intrusion than it was a welcome visit. Another bottle of sake later, we were ready for dessert. The tempura ice cream was most appealing, and if you've ever enjoyed a carnival funnel cake or a Mexican fried ice cream, this dish cannot be missed. The playful juxtaposition between warm and cold, crunchy and smooth, sweet and savory- it was too much to handle, but we loosened our belts and savored it nonetheless.

The evening had ended and we had eaten more than what we wanted, but it was a pleasant and delicious surprise. Mitoushi is not the place to go for a "random" sushi fix; with the welcoming staff and the affordable, delightful cuisine, our visits will be both planned and frequent. It had been a while since we were given as excellent a dining experience as we'd had at Mitoushi Japanese Restaurant. It won't be the last.

Mitoushi Japanese Restaurant
177 Atlantic Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11201
(Between Clinton & Court St.)
Phone: 718-935-1300

Sharpening The Cutting Edge

2010-02-15T22:35:00.007-05:00

It's not so much nostalgia or pride as it is selective memory, but I remember the Olympics of my yesterdays, the era of Kerri Strug and Kristy Yamaguchi and Kurt Angle, when the term "Olympian" went hand-in-hand with "perfection" and when the top athletes in the world rose up to showcase that perfection for the world. When the Dream Team in 1992 took it upon themselves to show the world what it means to be master of their domain, so to speak. The only fall you remember was that of Nancy Kerrigan in a hallway somewhere after some masked goon clubbed her knee- well, that and Tonya Harding's fall from grace after her part in the conspiracy was revealed.

It was a different time, one I fondly remember during this current Vancouver iteration of the Olympic Games. Which is depressing me.

I can't explain why I'm watching the pairs figure skating long program. It isn't that I'm ashamed to admit it, nor do I particularly care about seeing blades of glory: I'll watch anything in which people strive to perfect their craft, from trick-shot pool to cake decorating. But this... this is not perfection. One after another, couples take the ice with dreams of... whatever "perfect" is in this new scoring system. And like mechanical ducks lined up in a shooting range, they each get shot down, personifying disappointment for me in every way. It feels like a lack of preparation, but what more can you do past the four years of honing your art and mind for the one routine that matters? I don't find joy in watching these athletes fail at the top of their game, and I'd gladly turn in my schadenfreude club card for a chance to watch something fearless and flawless.

...

Epilogue.

And then the Chinese pair of Pang/Tong comes along to make me eat my words. They overcame the flaws of their short program that put them in fourth place, enduring a mistake-free, challenging and artistic routine that thrust themselves onto the podium with the silver medal. Now that's what makes the Olympics worth watching.

That and Apolo Ohno. The dude is fast, yo.

Google's Plan Bee

2010-02-11T14:37:00.004-05:00

The internets are ab(not going there)normally noisy about the latest social networking craze, Google Buzz. If you haven't heard, don't worry; Google has already set you up- just log onto your Gmail account or sign up for one (yes, you four people out there without Gmail), and Buzz is available right from the get go. Is Buzz the next big thing, the Twitter-slayer, the status-update upstart, or is it merely a secondhand alternative to the more established real-time media engines?

On paper (or screen) it makes perfect sense: isn't it easier to multitask your new media network on one page than across multiple tabs? Google wants to streamline for you real-time updates, news, and conversations, allowing you to enjoy more of your valuable webfoolery without the hassle of Twitter apps and excess social networking memberships like Facebook or Linkedin (although this is very likely an alternative to all those accounts of which you're already a member- and who really uses Linkedin anyway). Most likely, every new thing you come across on Buzz is an item you'll Google search anyway, thereby fueling the unholy triangle of search engines, ad-placement, and cookie dropping/info gathering that is the foundation of Web 2.0.

Buzz has it's value and eventually may even become the norm in real-time media, much like Google has become the benchmark for the search engine. Some have criticized it for its less than stellar privacy settings, but this is a minor issue that is easily alleviated in a few clicks. Others worry about its threat on more established real-time search engines like Bing or Collecta, but who still uses Altavista to find candid celebrity pics? (And yes, I'm as surprised as you are to find that site is still up.) The problem with Buzz right now is it feels like it's in its beta production stage, and its public release with a variety of little hiccups along the way doesn't feel like "the Google way." Most notably, the user interface is so crowded with random crap linked from throughout your Google profile; as a result, it's difficult to connect with something that seems so out of touch with what makes real-time media work.

As long as people continue to want instant gratification, which we will, and as long as there are companies willing to exploit that, which there are and will always be more coming, then "things" like Google Buzz will continue to spring up and enwrap us in the inane and shallow method we have grown to accept them. Buzz isn't the first and won't be the last in real-time media- I try not to get drunk on hope for this brave new world, but I am feeling the... tipsy.

Yes, I went there.

Lost But Not Least (and Spoiler Free!)

2010-02-03T19:58:00.010-05:00

So now we know who Smokey is, what's in the guitar case, and the aftermath of Juliet's sacrifice- tell me then, why does it feel like we've taken two steps back after the season premiere of Lost? ABC's sci-fi mindjob returned for its sixth and final season on Tuesday night, putting an end to eight months of speculation but not before introducing what may be its biggest mystery of all: what is reality when everything you've imagined becomes real?

"Two steps back" doesn't necessarily mean bad things for a television show that had become entangled in the theory of time travel. In some ways, the show's creators must have realized what did not work and what slipped through- over the course of five seasons, fans can be both forgiving and unrelentlessly critical to a show that had arguably blown its load in the first season. Consequently, it is a credit to the producers to cultivate such a following for so long but also to the fanbase that persevered through some of the show's dark ages (Nikki and Paolo, we hardly miss you). It's no surprise that we are tested from the very beginning of the final season with yet another innovative idea introduced in this television series- in other words, we've been conditioned to expect the unexpected while holding the highest expectations. And I suspect that if you've held on for this long, you won't mind one more season of this wild ride.

The cult-hit series continues its headfirst dive into untapped television territory. While Season Four introduced to us the "flash forwards" off the island and Season Five moved Jack, Kate, and the rest of the cast through time, this season takes time travel (and space, relatively) to another level from the very beginning. We see some of our favorite characters how they probably view themselves- in a state of truth unaffected by the events of the past five seasons. But the writers of this show seem to want the viewers to figure out the meaning of that truth for themselves: what is reality? What if the "what-ifs" in this world can be real too? By titling the two-part season premiere "LA X" (as in, "alternative LA"), it seems as if the producers have left the audience with a subtle clue as to this show's perception of what that reality (or realities?) truly can be. They then leave it up to the viewers to accept it and deduce it on their own.

The premiere answered some of the show's biggest questions and revealed parts of the island previously left shrouded in mystery. But more importantly, the episode unveiled some of the hidden natures and forgotten motivations of the characters we have grown with over the past five seasons. The viewer tends to overlook Jin's patriarchal, strict, and emotionless past when recollecting his selfless, time-expansive journey to this season. The roller coaster that had become Jack's life all began with a familial relationship prematurely ended- we sometimes forget to acknowledge his original motives and how far he's come or how low he's sunk. And isn't it painful to remember Hurley as the self-proclaimed "luckiest guy in the world," now tearing himself down again and again over some numbers while holding his own sanity together? These episodes force us to remember who these people were before their island encounter, to reexamine why they made their choices, and to remember why we loved this show in the first place. The beauty of this season lies in the idea that the characters, some long forgotten, can still find happiness or, at the very least, be at peace.

The mysteries of Lost and of the mystical island that has tested these characters since that fateful plane crash come to an end this season, but not before its writers and producers have stretched our minds and imaginations past the point of new beginnings. We can expect to find answers to most of the questions we've been asking for the better part of five seasons. But after the season premiere, it seems as if Lost will try to leave us with its biggest mystery of all- what is real?

Weaving a wedding dream

2009-09-24T09:41:00.004-04:00

Last night I had the pre-wedding wedding dream. I'm not alone. But it was pretty vivid and debatably odd...

It's raining outside and we walk the aisle carrying miniature, black umbrellas. Strangely, at the makeshift altar stands the priest next to a large white and gold sarcophagus. That's some spooky business. Fast forward to the reception hall which is very "Halloween"-like, with long dark velvet-y drapes and tall, haunting windows. But what stands out are the bright, teal tablecloths covering a few tables. Next I see my best man, Adrian, and rub his head- and for some reason he's then carrying me into another room. This is pretty fucking awkward. Then I begin to leapfrog around the room, first-person shooter video game style, like twenty-foot longjumps. All of a sudden I see a co-worker sitting at a table, and I say something garbled and give an "I don't get this either" kind of look. I float over to my table where Mom happens to be sitting at eating an egg roll and barbeque spare ribs. The place smells like Chinese food, and I realize that for some reason we are serving Chinese buffet, which is odd because I am supposed to have the oven-roasted salmon and lobster mashed potatoes. Also, the girl is nowhere to be found. Also, there was no music. This is the part where I forget the rest...

What do I make of this? Here's my interpretation:

I've been watching a lot of Dexter lately, so that could explain the coffin. And my best man is metaphorically "carrying" me throughout this wedding process (Eh? Eh? Eh.). I also ate Chinese leftovers for dinner pretty late last night; hence, the egg rolls. And I played some Dead Space on PS3 yesterday, which may have had my brain in video game FPS-mode. So that's my brain working overdrive, subconsciously of course. This wasn't exactly a disaster in any sort of way- if I remember correctly, everyone was still having a good time, and nobody mentioned the dead body at the beginning of the wedding ceremony. So that's good. Without looking this up, I'm going to venture a guess that inside the coffin is my former self laid to rest- deep stuff, I know. And the new me has super-leaping abilities, but that's for another dream.

In Glourious Summer

2009-09-07T09:51:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, I finally got around to seeing Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds, an alternative history period film about the Third Reich occupation of France at the end of WWII. Well, it was actually an allegorical piece about the power of the film as a medium, as per the numerous winking eye moments scattered throughout the movie culminating in a very obvious theatre scene climax in the final act. Then again, it was more of a study in characters and what motivates an individual: from the "Apache" Aldo Raine and his mostly silent, somewhat comical, very dangerous Basterds; to Bridget von Hammersmark, the double agent film star who couldn't act her way out of her footnote destiny; to Shoshanna, the revenge artist; and especially Hans Landa, the SS detective, the "Jew Hunter," the bad guy. But yet another view of the film is that of a revenge story, not dissimilar to Thriller or Sex and Fury, following the exploits of the Basterds and Shoshanna as their plans come to fruition. Or it's this, or that. Or rather this and that. Above all, Tarantino's opus is a masterful work of cinematic euphoria, bending and blending genres, characters, and dialogue to create a his most interesting and important work to date.

This film was icing on the cake of what has turned into a very impressive body of work for the summer films of 2009. From The Brothers Bloom to 500 Days of Summer to District 9, this summer has been an independent film connoisseur's delight, while the blockbuster crowd has enjoyed Star Trek, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and (arguably) Terminator: Salvation. In today's economic climate (Christ, I'm tired of saying that...), it's encouraging to see audiences continually immersing themselves in cinema but, more impressively, to know that cinema continuous to innovate, experiment, and dive into these creative projects.

It's a holiday, people. Go out and enjoy yourself in whatever way possible. For the cinephile in me, that means enjoying an afternoon at the local theatre- I think a second viewing of Inglourious Basterds is in order. Happy Laborless Day.

Podcasting: The Future of Pretension?

2009-08-27T10:40:00.008-04:00

If you don't know what podcasts are, then you are not alone- just don't tell anyone.

A podcast (a not-so-clever amalgamation of "iPod" and "broadcast"), in layman's terms, refers to digital media usually released episodically through the internet, most notably on iTunes. And contrary to popular belief, it is not necessary to have an iPod to listen to the vast library out there, as any digital media player, portable or not, can be used to play them. When you strip it down to its core, a podcast is at its heart commercial-free radio. This is not entirely true, as most of the better quality 'casts out there are heavily sponsored, but for the most part, what draws people to podcasts is the idea that there is a direct link between the podcaster and the listener, without any fluff or filter between them. Where else can a person listen to Quentin Tarantino explain what's on his playlist while browsing for free episodes of Cartalk? Anyone that has access to the internet has access to creating and enjoying podcasts. This kind of media has been around, technically for more than ten years, but since the inception of Apple's iPod, and the technological bumps that have arrived with each new iteration of it, podcasts have become a staple in the digital media industry since 2004.

I wouldn't call myself an expert, but I kind of know my way around the world of podcasting. I used to do one, as a matter of fact. (FYI, it's on hiatus because of time constraints, and also because we were getting too big and there was an artistic clash and a drug overdose- you know, same old story...) But just because I haven't had time to continue mine doesn't mean I've stopped listening to this little digital network of ramblers. Riding the NYC subway trains allows me the time to do just that. This is a collection of some of my favorite podcasts for anyone who hasn't caught onto this growing trend or any newbies who are looking for something that might interest them.

The Transmission: This is a fan podcast dedicated to the ABC television series Lost, a series I have been hooked on since the end of Season One. A confession: without Lost, I wouldn't have begun listening to podcasts. The first podcast I had ever listened to was The Lost Podcast With Jay & Jack and while I do occasionally listen to them for their wit and banter (and crackpot theorage), Ryan and Jen's podcast has been pretty solid. I like to whine that Ryan's nasal-rich, Casey Kasem-voice annoys me to no end, but the podcast itself is the most informative Lost-cast out there.

Stuff You Should Know: Howstuffworks.com is kind of a new site on my radar (highly recommended for you trivia-ites... transvestites and Transylvanians too, why the hell not), but already the Stuff You Should Know podcast has shot up my playlist. Josh and Chuck take the time to discuss and explain... basically everything, ever, and if you're like me, then there's never enough new knowledge to stuff into that brain of yours. From the end of the world in 2012 to how redheads work, this podcast is more informative than your mother, and you'd be wise to listen to them.

The Totally Rad Show: Well if you've gotten this far, then you must really be into podcasts. Taking geekdom into new heights is TRS, a weekly dose of all things rad in movies, video games, TV, and (I guess) other. Basically everything The Oddcast wants to be, only infinitely more... rad? Dan, Alex, and Jeff make geeks look a lot cooler than usual. This is also one of the few podcasts that I don't mind watching as a "vidcast," except I think that's the last time I use that fake word.

/filmcast: Dave, Devindra, and Adam opine on what they've been watching, the latest film news, and new or upcoming movies. Consistently paced and always interesting, the discussion welcomes numerous guest hosts from the film world and continues into an "After Dark" discussion on all things film-related. My favorite part of the show is whenever Adam (who I tend to agree with most of the time) makes a point and Devindra goes out of his way to disagree with him. Always entertaining.

Start subscribing!

The new digital crack

2009-08-19T11:59:00.004-04:00

Several months ago, my soon-to-be brother-in-law had told me about a website that was like the square root of ebay. Basically, this company sells one item a day until it sells out, at which time the site is of no use until 1AM (EST) when another item is available for purchase. These items range from laptops to flat-screen TVs, DVD collections to children's forts. And the price of these items tend to be around a fraction of the retail price. It's a snail-paced business model, I know, but it works out. I've bought a midi keyboard and a netbook from this very awesome website, and I'm privy to buying more in the future. But why?

I've figured it out.

This method of consumption and distribution by availability is obviously not anything new. But the way this website compels me to log in and see what's available every day, waiting for that one great deal to fall into my lap? Why, I know what this is! It's Animal Crossing! It's me buying turnips on Sunday morning to turn a profit later in the week. It's me walking into Tom Nook's shop and checking out the deals on furniture, carpet, wallpaper, and random crap I don't need. It's Nintendo infiltrating American consumer culture in every aspect and influencing real life. When I was addicted to AC in my college/post-college days, the game was commonly known as "digital crack." Well, woot.com, you are the official obsession circa 2009. Take your throne. Or better yet, buy it for cheap; you can probably find it on Woot one day.

Calm before the s%#$!@...

2009-07-29T20:11:00.003-04:00

We're hitting the last leg of bachelorhood, but these days have found me nose-deep in all things wedding related. I've become a husk of my single self. Not complaining, mind you, considering I'm the luckiest guy ever. I'm just starting to get used to all the "I"s turning into "We"s, the "mine"s becoming "ours"s. And I've stopped caring about correct grammar these days? (!)

Some of my closest buds are coming to the City this weekend for my bachelor party weekend. It kind of feels ridiculous and formal to call it that. I really just see it as "hanging out with the guys" and a little break from the hectic wedding prep schedule. Kind of want it to be low-key. This is largely unlikely.

There have been various stages in my life where I've been party to a heavy drinker- I'm usually the one taking the pictures or calling the cabs. I've been the sober shoulder more than enough times. Three people I know have been the receivers of my infinite Samaritan-ness, and this unholy trinity will all be in attendance this weekend. I can't help but worry that this will be the end of my liver as we know it. Going up against the three-headed dragon is not something I'm looking forward to, but it's gotta happen sometime.

I just heard a noise in the kitchen that sounded similar to a nagging wife asking me to collect the trash and sort the recycling. That couldn't have been it...

Touching base, base touching back

2009-05-21T12:15:00.000-04:00

Just some random hits for an blog gone M.I.A...

My Cavs got beaten in depressing, Cleveland-esque fashion: amazing feat of athletic ability to take the lead, followed by a back-breaking, well-defended but ultimately impressive shot by the opposition. Lebron needs to go to his left more on these last second drives. But I digress. As horrible as this loss was (only the third loss at home this year! Gah!), the Cavaliers sort of needed this kick in the ass to maybe spark some life into them, something that was missing the entire second half. I was hoping for this kick to happen after being up 2-0 going to Orlando, but hey, what the hey. Good luck tomorrow, I suppose.
I'm moving! Goodbye Williamsburg, you were good and loud and everything I thought you'd be. Hello Boerum Hill/Carroll Gardens, let's get to know each other's foibles and delicacies. Especially the delicatessens. Ready for a new neighborhood's food! Nothing beats Brooklyn.
Punch-Out!! arrived on the Wii this week, and I am completely pumped. It's been a while since I've been excited about video games, as this may actually mean I've grown up some in the last 2-3 years. That being said, Glass Joe is going down!
The new Metric album Fantasies reminds me of... every other Metric album. This could be good or bad. I'm going to have to let it sink in before grading.
This past weekend featured the Odds Vs. Kenny's Kids in a fun-filled case race, recounted quite delicately here. Long story short, we are awesome. Aside: although we hadn't consulted that wiki-page for the rules, we did a reasonable job adhering to them. This includes my non-puke before the last beer, and Tilden being done after throwing up in the bathroom sink, which was chunky and gross. Also, we are still awesome.
My brother-from-an-other-number ("6") is getting married this weekend, and though I've only met Beth a few times, she seems sweet and a good other half for him. Hope to see them happy and hearty until the day after forever. That being said, I have to drive 10 hours and back on Memorial Day weekend. This is going to be stupid. I plan on being especially inebriated the one day I'm not behind the wheel.
Speaking of weddings, planning is going splendidly, and we just found our DJ/Videographer (videography is lame) and it's looking pretty budget friendly. My sister, who is getting hitched next year, can't seem to find a cheap guy with a steadycam. That is a shame. We're also toying with the idea of sending around three cheap DV-cameras throughout the reception and editing the results ourselves. Thanks, Beastie Boys, or Michel Gondry, or whomever came up with that idea forever ago.
Finally, it's lunch time. Today feels like a salmon teriyaki kind of day.

Peace.

Water Cooler Drivel

2009-05-05T12:42:00.000-04:00

Our office has water again. Huzzah.

A couple of weeks ago, our penny-pinching office decided to save about $0.45 a day over two years by cutting off the water cooler. Yes, this is legal. The problem was that the water coolers weren't being cut from any other department but ours, and that we would simply need to walk to the cafeteria or a different department in order to get our eight cups a day or whatever it may be.

This was fine by me.

I don't care that we don't have a water cooler. I would sometimes have to change out the jugs, which is one of the biggest pains in the ass you can ever subject to someone. Mind you, it isn't difficult, it's just annoying. I'd say demeaning too, if I really cared what people think about people who change out water jugs. In fact, come to think of it, changing the water jug was a change of pace in an otherwise doldrum-filled week, so it really wasn't that big of a deal at all.

The problem with not having the water cooler is the fifteen comments a day from people who were so used to the water cooler being there, people so fixated on their daily recommended servings that taking away this one thing, albeit miniscule, seemed to be grounds for 30-second diatribes on oppressive office politics. Every day, for the past two or three weeks, someone would whine their cheese about being parched and how unfair life has become in their dry, droll tone. And every day, since I sit closest to the area formerly known as "the water cooler spot," I would be the first (and usually only) person to get to hear these soliloquies. And I don't care.

This isn't Prohibition, and like its fervent forefather, it didn't work. "The Noble Experiment" opened the floodgates to organized crime, bootlegging, racketeering, hornswoggling, fishy shystering, and a multitude of funny words you'll find in Dashiell Hammett novels. Not to be outdone, "The Water Cooler Cutoff of 2009" fell to a not-too-distant second with cold war tactics of casual asides, shrugs, and the occasional "meh." Such opposition left management no choice but to reluctantly fold like the metal chairs on which the interns sit. This victory feels as cheap as "Mission Accomplished," except we at least have some lasting results- no more bitching and a plastic cup of cool, refreshing water.

...Ah jeebus, I need to refill that shit again.

Pest control

2009-04-26T08:31:00.000-04:00

We got a brand new pest-control device- it powers itself, except we need to feed it every day and change its litterbox every once in a while.

This woke us up this morning. It. Was. Funny. And horrible.

The good life

2009-04-24T11:06:00.000-04:00

My grandma passed away in her sleep yesterday in the Philippines, the homelands where she had moved back to and had been living in for the greater part of this decade. Lola Leona lived to be 92 years young, and for the life of me, I can't recall what she did in life besides live it peacefully, piously, and happily. As long as I've known her, she was this tiny little woman, somewhere in the 4'7"-5' tall range, with silver locks and leathery skin. Her eyes were muted brown marbles, and her smile a permanence that will last longer than her time in this world.

The last time I remember seeing her (I could be mistaken), I was visiting family in California around '04 or '05 where she had settled in the States after a number of pitstops sprinkled across the country- Ohio and Pennsylvania most prevalently. When she lived with my family in the 80s and 90s, I envision her as the Energizer Bunny, a nonthreatening constant pillar of the household. Warm and fuzzy too. Last I saw her, she was still walking around, still cracking that smile. Her amalgamated Tagalog/English-concocted dialect was less clear than I recall as a young child, but seeing her then reiterated the unspoken value my family places in respect for our elders, and the familial structure in general.

Lola Leona lived a long, fulfilling life. My only regret is that I didn't make the time to sit down and talk with her about all of the amazing things she had experienced. It's my belief that life is a book of stories, each one a different narrative, a different voice, a new point of view of the world we all share. I imagine her story to be a good one.

"I was looking for directions AWAY from there..."

2009-04-23T10:46:00.000-04:00

Last night we went to see "Last Call at the Starliner Lounge," a murder mystery showcase of Prohibition-era big band rhythm and blues, tough guy cops and mobsters, and burlesque-style noir featuring Big Apple Burlesque's finest. Comedy, drama, and spinning chest tassles kept us on the edges of our seats- not to mention Snuffy Patterson's delightful throwback intermission commercials ("Buy real fur!") and Brian Newman's rangy musical score (though I question the place a swingy "Happiness is a Warm Gun" cover has at the end of the show). Honey Birdette (as Softy Malone) and Ruby Valentine (Molly Monroe and Sally O'Malley) played their roles admirably, and a special duet between Snuffy and Miss Cyclone 2008 herself Angie Pontani kept the energy at its peak, but the biggest star of the show had to be Broadway Brassy crooning her melancholies as if she was killing us softly in the Theater District. Alas, the show plays in SoHo's Corio (West Broadway at Grand Street) every Wednesday night now and through June.

(BTW, for a more in-depth review, questionable tone and semi-NSFW pictures and all, check out the Cultural Capitol review here.)

Meme, circa 2000

2009-04-21T10:12:00.001-04:00

Well, since we're rocking the past these days, I came across a mindless meme done back when I was wide-eyed, emotionally immature, and unafraid of terrorism. If I remember correctly, this was done in the spring of 2000. It's sort of interesting to rediscover these long since-buried explorations into the mindset of that very different version of myself- the anxiety of first love (her name was Lenore), the unbridled optimism of youth (college freshman), and the mystery of the future. (Foolishly, I wanted to engage in a fight club; when this actually happened in life, it was less than spectacular) Plus, it reads like a child trying to sound like a TV sitcom writer. Observations: I used far too many exclamation points in my youth; and what's with my aversion to capitalization? How unconformist (that looks misspelled). And I still write my name with the .dots. sometimes, when I'm feeling frisky. Unedited for your bewilderment, yikes and enjoy.

<< The Basics
*Full Name: .ryan.
*Birth date: july 20, 1981!
*Age: eighteen! i can get charged with date rape!
*Location: o-state!
*Your zodiac sign: cancer. like the disease!
*Nicknames: .flipryan. actually nobody calls me that.
*Height: somewhere between 5'7" and 13' tall. i rule.
*Eye Color: black and blue. i get beat up. a lot.
*Hair Color: according to eric "blonde" hahaha...
*Favorite Sports: eh?
*Favorite TV shows: wwf raw, EVERYONE'S favorite show...
*Favorite movie you've seen: mallrats. chasing amy. kissing a fool. blah blah blah..
*What's your favorite flavor Snapple?: eh?
*Favorite board game: punk rock twister!
*Favorite magazine: silver surfer. it's a comicbook.
*Favorite food: punk rock pizza!
*Favorite subject in school: honors punk rock 101, i'm funny with this whole punk rock shit, ain't i???
*Least Favorite: in all sincerity, scandinavian 520: the films of ingmar bergman. DEATH. so sad.
*Favorite thing to Drink: i really don't know... odd,huh?
*Favorite CD's:
.weezer.-blue album.
.a.new.found.glory.-nothing gold can stay.
.the.get.up.kids.-red letter day ep.
.saves.the.day.-can't slow down.
.goldfinger.-hangups.
*Favorite song(s):
.only.in.dreams.-weezer.
.the.goodbye.song.-a new found glory.
.mass.pike.-the get up kids.
*What's your favorite holiday: ryan's day. which is tomorrow. that's the day i fail my physics midterm!
*Loudest person you know: the naked man.
*Craziest or silliest person you know: ren. definitely ren.
*Favorite Friends to hang with: lenore, adrock, rudy, anthony, john, lena, kathleen, yon, dennis, didi, tessa, all my o-state flips, all my cincy boyz, some of those fyst-nuts, major minority buds, nameless rutt-band people, you all rock..

The Crush Side
*Do you have a crush?: not so.
*If so who: so not.
*When you meet a person of your preferred sex, you first notice their(looks): shoes.

The Past Side
*What do you remember most about this past year?: april.15.2000. across the street from 190 e. norwich. sitting near that tree and under the stars and the big black night, holding the girl of my dreams and wishing she would never let go...* i'm poetic.
*Memory (thing) you miss the most: senior prom...*
*What's the first thing you thought of when you wokeup this morning: "i bet lenore overslept..." which she did, hahaha..
*Does it make you sad to know that you can never go back in time?: sad? no, i don't GET sad.
*If you could go back in time what would you do or change? .senior.prom.

The Future Side
*Where do you see yourself in 10 Years: dead at 19. just you wait.
*If you could have any occupation when you get older,what would it be?: punk. rock. jukebox.
*What is your dream car: .huh.
*Where do you plan on living after getting out of school: chicago. new york. san diego. we'll see.
*At what age do you want to get married: i'm already twice divorced..
*What do you wear to bed?: a white tshirt and boxers and nike windbreakers. unless i'm piss drunk. then puke.
*If you could dye your hair one color what would it be? colors suck. unless it's silver like sisqo...thong, tha-thong thong thong... (lenore, that was for you!)
*On a scale from 1-10 (1 lowest) how romantic are you?: i can be 1-10. i'm like pepe le pew. you know, that stalker.
*If you could have a tattoo, what and where would it be? filipino symbols of my choosing to encircle my bulging bicepts.
*Bellybutton....Innie or Outtie?: 12 inches out..wait, that's not my belly button..
*What's on your walls in your room?: a dead cat.
*Do you type with your fingers on the right keys?: of course, what am i a moron? kidding.
*Do you believe in yourself?: usually.
*The worst feeling in the world: feeling alone when you're really not alone.
*Best feeling in the world: waking up next to lenore.
*Do you have motion sickness: what.
*Bravest thing you have ever done: april.15.2000.
*One thing you hate about yourself?: nothing.
*Have you ever met a famous person?: sure.
*How many rings before you answer the phone? something about.. voicemail?
*Have you ever been attacked by a big dog?: dogs love me. but yes.
*Do you eat chicken with fingers or with a fork? face.
*Which do you prefer, mud wrestling or Jell-O wrestling? wwf professional wrestling.
*What is the best number in the world?: 17.
*Do you get along with your parents?: of course. i'm the good son.
*Roller coasters-cool or scary?: thumbs up. i rode the millenium force, that makes me your hero.. worship me.
*Do you like to drive: of course.
*Chocolate or vanilla cake?: what.
*Drinks, with or without ice cube?: no ice, thank you very much.
*What's the first thing you'd do if you won the lottery?: wake up.
*Something you'd like to try?: fight club.
*What do u think of the person that sent this to u??: she's my favorite daisy. well... wait, yeah, my favorite daisy. :)
*Did you hate filling out this survey? i pretty much did it so i don't have to sit and study for a physics midterm i'm going to fail utterly and horribly. you know it, i know it. i can't wait.

My Top 10 Favorite NES Games List

2009-04-02T10:18:00.000-04:00

The Nintendo Entertainment System has been a staple in my life for over twenty years, its games even more so now with the Wii and the Virtual Console capabilities (not to mention the possibilities broadened by Wii-brew). After reading some "top ten" lists and discussing with some of my friends their own favorite games of the retro era, I've come up with a list of my own.

The following is a list of my top ten favorite NES games. Disclaimer: this is a list of favorites, not to be confused with "best NES games ever" lists. In fact, here's an excellent source for just that. I am well aware of the two-player badassness of the Contra series or how influential Crystalis has been to the action-RPG genre. Kid Icarus and Paperboy are classics that will live longer than me. But this is a list of games that I loved as a kid growing up on a couch in the 80s and 90s, games that I still love to this day. Currently, I am pretty immersed in The Adventures of Lolo, but when I was a kid, I avoided any games starring little blue blob-like circular characters. It's a long story. Enjoy.

#10. Skate Or Die!: I'm a sucker for Konami, namely Ultra Games (I'm talking to you, TMNT1, as terrible as you are). This game took the rising fad of skateboarding and introduced it to little fat kids around the world that couldn't stand on a board.

Really? Any game with a character named "Poseur Pete" is okay in my book.
Why not #1? Not exactly the deepest game (five whole modes of play), I'd find myself playing the joust mode most of the time or hanging out in the skate shop with Rodney Recloose (ha!), looking for easter eggs in the background.

#9. Cyber Stadium Series: BaseWars: Apparently in a few hundred years, owners will get fed up with the outrageous salaries of their players (it will take hundreds of years?). Robots replace them in this 24th century, ahem, update to America's pastime.

Really? Rip the arm off the opposing robot and beat it to death... in order to be safe on a groundball to second. Need I say more?

Why not #1? This game isn't as fun as a single player game, plus it can get pretty easy after you learn the "tricks," like the ultra slow curveball that the CPU can't hit but can't lay off.

#8. Super Dodge Ball: In the waning stages of the Cold War era, children around the world released their fears and frustrations through the ancient sport of dodgeball. Team USA and Team USSR, along with numerous teams from around the globe, duke it out in frantic, button-mashing, balls-to-your-face action.

Really? Seemingly a straightforward niche sports game, Super Dodge Ball has a surprisingly strategic learning curve. Mastering the glowing football toss works wonders for your ego.

Why not #1? As good as this is, it suffers just the same as most sports games. It's only as good when you play two-player mode.

#7. Dr. Mario: Mario, the plumber, is a doctor now. Somehow. Come to think of it, was he ever a good plumber, anyway? I distinctly remember him getting sucked into a drainpipe in the opening credits of the Super Mario Bros. TV show and thinking, "Well that's not going to fix that drain!" Anyway, your prescription for viral fun? Dr. Mario.

Really? Let me put it this way, per a recent conversation with a buddy of mine:

"Amazingly enough, Dr. Mario scores quite well among the Nazi demographic. I think it's due to the Italian plumber with zero medical knowledge going about popping pills to kill red, white (ahem, yellow), and blue 'vermin.' Yes, 'Doctor' Mario: favorite game of Axis powers.

Why not #1? When it stops being a challenge, it stops being as fun. I can still pick it up and play this game for a while, but more often than not, I find myself ending the game on my own instead of being ended, if you know what I mean.

#6. Super Mario Bros. 2: Mario Madness! The Japanese version of SMB2 was thought to be too difficult for the simple minds of Western civilization, so Nintendo released Doki Doki Panic under the moniker of SMB2, in all its turnip-throwing, dreamworld-saving glory. The result was the black sheep of the Mario franchise, but a beloved game nonetheless.

Really? You get transported to a world called SubCon and each of the four main characters shine in their own way- Princess and her floating or Luigi and his super jump. The game gave Mario and his supporting cast personalities and abilities that are still trademarks of the characters today. Plus, SubCon? I mean, wow.

Why not #1? Although a fun and innovative game for its time, SMB2 is still at its heart a port of another game, nor is it the best Mario game.

#5. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Arcade Game: Let's be honest. The first one was a terrible game. Yeah, I played the hell out of it, but that was only because I had no other choice. Angry Video Game Nerd would agree with me on this. TMNT2 came back with a vengeance, pitting your choice of the four heroes against Shredder in order to save April, Splinter, New York, and the world. God, I want to play this right now.

Really? Two-player co-op! Krang! Tons and tons of enemies! Stealing the pizza power-up from your buddy with only one bar left! Krang! No stupid impossible jumps! If ever there was a sequel that made the original its bitch, it was TMNT2.

Why not #1? Maybe it's the comparative nature versus the first game which makes it so good? Nah. Maybe it's Shredder's super move at the end that sort of sucked? Maybe because Krang didn't die like all the other villains? I would actually have to say it's because, even though it did have some difficulty levels, you really only had to learn one move to succeed, the "jump+kick."

#4. Super Mario Bros. 3: Arguably, the most beloved game of all-time, SMB3 is the magnum opus of the NES and the Mario franchise. Mario (or Luigi) sets out to save the Princess and the Mushroom Kingdom from the nefarious Bowser and his seven Koopa kids.

Really? Power-ups galore! Pick your favorite- Frogsuit, Tanooki, you name it- this game broke the boundaries before there ever were any. Don't even get me started on Warp Whistles. Just the sound of the "floating ship" music gives me shivers. The good kind.

Why not #1? How does the best game ever fall to #4 on my list? Simply because... I didn't like it as much as a kid as I do now? Yeah, I know, shenanigans on me, but it's true. An excellent game, but one I didn't play out like a crazy person until I was an older, wiser couch potato.

#3. Tetris: Possibly the reason I needed glasses by the second grade, this puzzler forced gamers to fit falling tetrads into horizontal lines in order to clear space for... more falling tetrads? Hmm... the Soviets plan to take over America started with Tetris taking Americans off the streets and melting their eyes in front of their television sets.

Really? This game was so addictive that my dad wouldn't give up the controller. Beating the high score never felt so good.

Why not #1? The game was much better on the handheld Game Boy for some reason, even with the puke green screen colors. Later iterations of the game allow for "infinite spinning" and "save-a-piece" or, what my comrades call, "cheating."

#2. Mega Man 2: Dr. Wily is back to his old tricks, and so is our hero, Dr. Light's creation, Mega Man. Work your way past Wily's eight Robot Masters and robot fortress to defeat the mad scientist once and for all- well, until the next game.

Really? An improvement over the original in every sense, from the soundtrack to the variety of enemies to the challenging boss battles and puzzles, MM2 took the success of the first game and told gamers that it could only get better, setting the bar high for one of Capcom's most successful franchises. Plus, Metalman!
Why not #1? It's close, but it's not quite my favorite NES game ever. Possibly because of some randomly placed 1-ups that were impossible to get.

#1. The Legend of Zelda 2: The Adventures of Link: The original Legend of Zelda is cherished as a pioneer for modern RPGs, however its sequel was met with mixed reviews. The story takes place after the death of Ganon; Zelda is placed under a sleeping spell, and Link must recover the Triforce of Courage in order to awaken the sleeping maiden.

Really? Gamers worldwide were taken aback by such a dramatic shift in gameplay- gone was the overhead action and item-scouring of the first game, replaced by side-scrolling, leveling up, and a complicated magic system. These were changes that I loved. LOZ2 gave us a new way to look at the series, a trait that has become a staple in the franchise. It's even the first time that non-player characters (NPCs) began playing larger roles in the series. This game took risks that, for better or worse, gave the series a breath of fresh air.
Why #1? LOZ2 was the first game in the franchise that I'd ever played. The original came and went and before I knew it, a sequel to that game was wrapped in gold and the ticket in my hand guaranteed me a copy from behind the plexiglass at Toys 'R Us. I remember every detail about this game: the little 1-up Link dolls, the stupid raft, Bagu in the swamp, mirror shield, that damn giant blue blob (ugh). This game is long, difficult, and a test of wills for any kid willing to put in the time and effort. It combines dungeon crawling and platforming with RPG elements and it continues to hold up over time. My favorite NES game of all-time, The Legend of Zelda II: The Adventures of Link.

Honorable Mentions:

California Games: Hacky-sack is fun as hell, but by the time you figure out how to do the surfing competition or the half-pipe high jump, you stop caring. And repeatedly falling on your face during rollerskating is only half-amusing.

Ninja Gaiden: Maybe when I finally beat this game, it'll crack the top ten list.

Bubble Bobble: Games with this many levels need to be both addicting and worth your time. This game gets only half of that combination- but which one?

Marble Madness: If I put the time into it, this game might be more rewarding. After ten minutes of marble rolling fun, it gets a little stale (and tough) for my taste.

Battletoads: Very fun for two players, very lonely for one. A poor man's TMNT2.
Super Mario Bros.: The classic that started it all for me. I remember pausing the game at the Level 8 Bowser boss battle and not playing it for hours for fear of the game ending. I called up the entire neighborhood, and we all sat there to watch me beat it. And then I died. Beating it the next day, the game lost a little of its shine. My only complaint is how the unforgiving scrolling screen wouldn't let you go backwards.

And that's that.

Nowhere left to go (or, Part 3 of 4)

2009-03-05T10:18:00.000-05:00

Welcome to Part 3 (of 4) of my Top 20 favorite Saves The Day songs. After this is all done, I will probably never like them again. That's the last lie I told. Without further adieu...

--------------------

#8. "Obsolete": When you hit the bottom, there's nowhere to go but up. Is this true? "Obsolete" succeeds in showing option 2- finding peace when you get there. When I listen to this song, I don't see it as just another depressing Saves The Day song. To me, it is an ode to loneliness that reveals it as an honorable destination.

The speaker reveals a constant awareness of the outside world defining who he is and in what he is supposed to find comfort. In discovering his loneliness, he desires a new kind of happiness, one that can only be achieved in the rejection of how the world perceives that loneliness. The speaker defines happiness as a place where emotions are shared with another person, and within the confines of this song, it is a correct assessment. However, he makes a decision to shut out the pains of isolation and embrace it with renewed self-worth. He queries that if happiness is found where "there's nowhere left to go," then couldn't it be found in solitude? If it happens when "there is no state of self," then isn't it possible that happiness is like Foucault's docile bodies, its definition malleable and ever-changing?

One of its more interesting aspects is the disappearance of the word "happiness" at the end of the song. Though it appears in the lyrics, the word is noticeably left out twice at the end of the song. It may very well symbolize the redefinition of happiness in the speaker's life- its presence is acknowledged, but it is absent where it is supposed to appear, replaced with an emptiness that comes from being used up and cast aside. "Obsolete" succeeds because it challenges our definition of emotional response and our perception of the world around us.

-Best line: "Happiness is when there's nowhere left to go because in that state of mind there is no state of self"

#7. "Firefly": This song struck me as a surprise at the end of Stay What You Are, an album that seemed to attempt to reconnect with the emotions established in previous Saves The Day records but only succeeded in confirming their existence in the past. The album couldn't replicate those feelings, and as a result, to me it felt somewhat redundant and less progressive. With "Firefly" however, this is not the case. There is an urgency established immediately that is lacking throughout the album, but in this song, there exists an excitement and innocence and the importance of every moment.

Fireflies are beetles that live for 1-2 years but only for roughly two weeks in the adult cycle. Their purpose in this short lifespan is simple- to find a mate and procreate. Appropriately, this song captures the essence of lust and the trueness of passion. The speaker wants to live in the moment and the imagery in "Firefly" shows his desire to make his mark. As a result, he tries fervently to shake up the world around him, and in doing so, he finds his purpose with the person who shares this experience. Image-driven and emotion-heavy, this song reconnects listeners to what is important in life and in many ways introduces us to the world we may not see without living in the moment.

-Best line: "Prepare to be ravaged by our lust burning mad, the fire that we've become"

#6. "Jessie and My Whetstone": I don't do justice to most Saves The Day acoustic tracks, but "Jessie" is by and large one of my favorite songs. It tells the story of the lifecycle of a beautiful moment. The first half of the song reveals the memory of a moment the speaker cherishes, but just as quickly the moment is swept away by the realities of the present. The memory starts off lively like a spark but lingers on and eventually passes away overused and underappreciated. The speaker reflects on why his mind cannot get past the simplest of times, why he dwells on things in a dim light. Like many other songs from Chris Conley, the speaker resorts to his imagination. It is in his dreams where he propositions the object of his affection to join him to make more mundane memories come to life. The song is beautiful in idealizing the routine of day-to-day memories and the comfort that comes from constant reflection. And at around two minutes in length, "Jessie" comes and goes as swiftly as the memory of ever-passing moments.

-Best line: "Under highway signs I watched our love start fluttering and dissipating"

#5. "The Art of Misplacing Firearms": Deception can come from where you least expect it, and in this early Saves The Day song, it comes in one of its worst forms, the betrayal of friendship. One of the reasons I love this song is its response to feeling betrayed. Many songs from Conley involve the bitter acceptance of being hurt or the rumination of exploring the effects on oneself, but "Firearms" shows a different face by conveying the immediate reaction of furious resentment. This is likely due to its machinations as an early recording and Conley's attempted aspirations to find his voice. This only adds to the depth of emotion revealed in the song in that everything the speaker feels comes at you directly, unhinged and unabated. Conley's lyrics are honest and unambiguous; thus, the listener has no choice but to take his words at face-value. The song shows us that the speaker is unafraid of being hurt but that the impassioned hatred in one's veins can overtake a person. It is a layer of emotion that seems to define Conley at this point in his music, but more interestingly, it is a direction from which his lyrics have strayed away (for the most part). "Firearms" reminds us that it does exist.

-Best line: "Friends don't mean a thing when you can actually feel the knife sticking in your spine"

#4. "Sell My Old Clothes (I'm Off to Heaven)": Part of why I love this song so much is part of the reason it is not in my top 3. While I love the song for its imagery, storytelling elements, its honesty, and its reliance on repetition (both lyrically and musically), it is its lack of identity compared to other Saves The Day songs that ultimately drops it from the top of my list.

When this song was first released, I was pretty hyphy about it- it seemed like a revival of the Saves The Day music of old- catchy, rocking, and not lacking in lyrical depth. In this sense, it is a beautiful song about wanting to renew one's love with another, making one last ditch effort before coming to the conclusion that the past does not the future make. It is refreshing to hear the song go through such a wide range of emotions, from hopefulness, to insecurity, to endearment, to bargaining and, and finally, not acceptance, but to anger. At the conclusion, the listener can't help but feel the anger with him, the words "to hell with you" ringing with the double-entendre of dying in sinful solace with another person but also with a tongue-in-cheek proclamation of hatred.

Sadly, in its beauty comes the ugly truth that hit me. The song itself, while an honest look at a break-up, does little to make progress musically or emotionally. It is stagnant in the emotions of years of "more of the same," and as a result, it seems to have no place. I can't help but wonder why this is. It stands out by itself, but what kept it off the official tracklist of their many albums? Musically, the song seems like it could have appeared around the Through Being Cool era, but it has more depth lyrically and may have taken away from the rest of that album. On the other hand, Stay What You Are may have benefitted from its presence, but it may very well have taken away from the song itself. This lack of identity may add to the overall allure of the song, but it is this element which also keeps it from achieving a higher place in the band's wide library of songs.

The fact that I rate this song so highly anyway speaks volumes of my attraction to its charm despite its singular flaw. "Sell My Old Clothes" is a wonderful track that stands out above all other B-side tracks- fitting for a song that does not have an album to call its own.

-Best line: "If this sky's going to eat us then I'd like to be digested into a million pieces with you- I'd love to be scattered to hell with you"

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Check out The Oddcast Podcast on Monday to find out my Top 3 favorite Saves The Day songs of all-time! Shameless!

The black spots (or, Part 2 of 4)

2009-03-02T20:14:00.000-05:00

Top 20 Saves The Day songs, part 2 of 4, continues...

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#14. "The Choke": Uncomfortable around girls much? This song is for the modern romantic: one part longing, two parts pathetic, full-on rock out. This is the song that sealed it for me with this band- it encapsulates inadequacy in a "shoulda-woulda-coulda" attitude (I cannot stress enough about how pathetic the speaker seems to feel), but it is more than tolerable by the conclusion of the song; this down-trodden motif is transformed throughout the hurried pace in the melody into an anger at the end that seems to be directed at the speaker himself. At least he knows who to blame.

-Best line: "I'll close all my doors and only show you the black spots where my eyes once were"

#13. "Banned From the Back Porch": Another late bloomer for me, but mostly from an autobiographical standpoint- coming from a ska-punk background prior to my exposure to the album, I was instantly drawn to the tracks in Through Being Cool that seamlessly integrated into an increasing collection of post-punk, ultra-catchy sing-a-longs. "Banned" seemed to showcase an aggressiveness that I was not attuned to as of yet. Oh how wrong I was.

Immediately, the speaker paints a vivid scene: warm and suburban, damp and misty in the summer after a rainfall. It is as if the speaker is trying to tell us every detail of the moment when he made a connection with a girl who he didn't even know he was looking for, summoning the courage that had always been missing in his encounters since "The Choke" (#14 on this list, oddly). Don't let his seemingly cold feet at the end of the song fool you: this song ends the album with a sense of purpose, a hint at the possibility of happiness when in an instant a person can be thrown aback by a chance encounter.

-Best line: "I connected with her eyes to feel my gut fall through the floor"

#12. "Always Ten Feet Tall": Another song filled to the brim with imagery. It is a tribute to short-lived contentment while waiting for the other shoe to drop. The speaker lives in the moment and wishes for the elongation of the feelings he experiences, even though he is unable to share them properly to another:

"Am I dreaming? Is this really me?
Because I've never felt so not lonely
And if this could be real right now
Then everyday for the rest of my life
I will search for moments full of you
But let's hope tomorrow won't cave in
'Cause I'm looking for someone to change me"

Instead of trying to achieve a more concrete understanding of happiness, he comes to the conclusion that his contentment is fleeting. In this disbelief, he loses himself in an imaginary scenario in which he is forced away from his euphoria and in this regard, the reader might think the speaker is a woeful pessimist. However, this is really a warning about taking moments for granted, because happiness can be taken away in an instant. This song is about looking at a situation from all perspectives and taking away its most meaningful aspects.

-Best line: "And sometimes things you say just make me think in different ways"

#11. "Third Engine": I think this is my first "cheat." This was never a great song to me, nothing breathtaking or inspiring lyrically, and it does have a repetitiveness to it that I originally found cumbersome. That is until I took a day-long train ride to see about a girl. This song is about holding onto the smallest detail of a memory and letting it carry you through a difficult time.

(Also, this song is one of the first instances I noticed a running motif in Saves The Day songs in which the action of rolling is used- finding other songs with the "rolling" device became an interesting pastime while listening to their albums. Yes, it's probably just me.)

-Best line: (reluctantly) "I rolled over and over... trying to touch your knees"

#10. "Shoulder to the Wheel": Sneaking into the top ten is the first song I've ever listened to by Saves The Day. This gem of a pop piece taken figuratively is an ode to perseverance, but in the literal sense, it is a glimpse into a scenic runaway. The song has a couple of great lines, the five chords used are fairly standard stuff- what makes this song so great? Well, it rocks, that's what. Performed live in the early years, Chris Conley's trademark hand-motions and onstage theatrics made for an exciting breath of fresh air amidst a playlist replete with anger and alienation. MTV-ized video aside, this song was the perfect bridge into the Saves The Day world for the teen-aged, angst-filled crowd wading through the shallow confines of the post-commercial punk pool. Hidden in its ceaseless chorus (at one point, sung three times in a row- three times!- once a focal point of my criticism but now just fun to sing) is an anthem that could unite this disillusioned collection of deviants.

-Best line: "Get us as far as far can be"

#9. "The Last Lie I Told": Funny how the songs you hate at first grow to become your favorites. I remember this song being very image-driven but that it created a situation in which I couldn't picture myself. Those were called "the happy days." But then you come to a point, the bottom, where every detail of your circumstance is magnified so you cannot forget how it feels to see everything from below.

One of my favorite images in this song conveys a conflict between the natural earth and the world built in and around it:

"I wish the sky were open
'Cause if there weren't those trees
I think I could see for miles
The city is just beyond those clouds"

Is this how bad it can get? I've always compared "emo" (and more specifically Saves The Day) to the Romantic period of poetry- the connections are there in its rejection of the material and an immersion into Innocence, finding solace from the dregs of society in the purity of the natural world. In another light, Romantic poetry can be viewed as an escapist form of literature- a way to avoid the real world and the emotions one has to face- in favor of Beauty and Nature. "Lie" takes it in a different direction: the trees are blocking his desire to see the city. He has rejected the idealism in nature in favor of the pains and hardships that accompany what is real and concrete. The parking lot. The pavement. The smell of gasoline. In his acceptance, the speaker tells us that there is refuge in loneliness.

Or, is he just lying to us and to himself? Layers!

-Best line: "I guess this is what it's like to be really down and holding out for something"

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Marching along, Part 3 of 4 to come with #8-4. The beauty of this list is that there is no telling what is coming next. Can you handle all this emotional baggage?

A core of coal (or, Part 1 of 4)

2009-02-27T13:35:00.000-05:00

So I was thinking about influential bands in my biography, and one of those standouts is a Jersey-based "melodic hardcore" group formed in 1997 called Saves The Day. Led by singer/songwriter Chris Conley, the single constant throughout the group's numerous lineups over the years, Saves The Day (and more to the point, Conley) has often been criticized for its contribution to the (some may say) watered-down emo genre. To these naysayers I say, "Yeah, well. Yeah." Though Saves The Day does not innovate or inspire a paradigm shift in music theory, Conley's lyrical prowess captures the excitement of the youthful idyllist while exploring the melancholy of wallflower rhetoric, ultimately endearing a passionate, loyal fanbase with what comes down to an impressive library of catchy tunes and clever, honest lyrics.

My enamored affair with Saves The Day isn't all shits and giggles, however. The direction the band has gone in the past few years does not parallel my own musical journey, though I will occasionally drop in to listen to their latest iteration's music, if only to remember the "good old days."

I submit to the jury my list of the top 20 Saves The Day songs. Yes, 20. I did not want to leave anything out (which ultimately had to happen). This is part one of a little homage to my favorite crybaby band of the last ten years.

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#20. "All-Star Me": Track 1 of the first album I ever listened to by the Jersey boys. It's a great "first song of an album" song, with a consistent aggressiveness tempered by a lyrical loneliness that is all-too-present in the band's library.

-Best line: "A core of coal"

#19. "The Vast Spoils of America": It took a while for me to catch onto this one- it was a little wordy and the music seemed simply tacked on. And then it just hit me like a ton of bricks: "Sometimes taking off can open up your eyes." This song is long and rich and verbose because it's coming from the point of view of an aimless traveller journeying coast-to-coast in America (or a band on tour, but whatever). It's picturesque and sad and it makes you wonder where home really is.

-Best line: "'Cause that's when you miss your home and the trees seem a little deader"

#18. "I'm Sorry I'm Leaving": A confusing song, to say the least. The imagery suggests the impossibility of unhappiness in the comfort of friends at summertime until a midway turn that hints of loss and regret (hence the title). Either way, the song incorporates everything I enjoy about the band's music.

-Best line: "Roll on top of me, baby. Just roll"

#17. "Holly Hox, Forget Me Nots": Oh how the mighty have fallen! Once numbered among my favorites, "Holly Hox" captured me with the catchiest of guitar riffs and some ripped-your-heart-out imagery. It's one of the few songs that seems to journey through the sadness and pain of soured relationships into a different state (in this case, anger and resentment, but that's beside the point).

-Best line: "You never know just what you have until you get it yanked out of your chest"

#16. "Houses & Billboards": On the surface, the song seems to be a reflection of a beautiful moment and the memory of the feelings that were experienced in that moment. Deeper, it's about dwelling on a memory so hard that it depresses you to the point where you feel the need to drown yourself in fantasy. To me, it's like remembering an old house you lived in versus seeing pictures of that same house. The emotions associated with each will be vastly different.

-Best line: "I could be crazy and sing about memories"

#15. "Jodie": This song incorporates the thing I love most about Saves The Day: an aptitude for empathy. Yeah, the narrator is a lonely, depressing Holden Caulfield with a lot of time on his hands. I get that. But it's not as if it was always like this. The person spoken to throughout the song seems to be gone and irreplaceable; the narrator has made a choice to reflect on the happier times in such a way that seems as though both characters have moved on. The narrator uses the memory of the other to get past some inner turmoil and in doing so comes to terms with his solitude and alienation. Thus, the reader/listener has the power to overcome his own loneliness with the knowledge gained from the narrator's experience... or, it's just a kick-ass song.

-Best line: "I will carry all the weights tonight"

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This was Part 1 (of 4) of my Top 20 Saves The Day songs. Part 2 is up next with #14-9. Keep the sad times rolling!

Who Watches the Oddcast?

2009-02-24T09:53:00.000-05:00

Episode 3 of The Oddcast is out- the Odds have a geeked out fanboy discussion of Alan Moore's Watchmen and it still isn't getting old. This book is... timeless. Check out the podcast site.

After waxing intellectual about this great comic book story, it got me pumped about the film coming out in less than two weeks. I used to be a naysayer when it comes to pulling this book off the pages and onto the big screen- there's a giant blue naked man walking around for the sole purpose of preventing this (well, that plus the running motif of the stripping away of trivial human dilemmas, i.e. shame, which Dr M. seems to symbolize, but that's beside the point). Now, even without Alan Moore's blessing, it seems like Hollywood has conceded enough to keep the hardcore interest intact while director Zach Snyder's vision compromises enough to make the project commercially viable. The panel-for-panel previews seem to let the readership know that the source material has not been forgotten. I can respect that. And even though most advertising for the film bombards potential movie-goers with action sequences and explosions and costumes, these images are tempered by the promise that it will not be your conventional superhero flick. I would not be surprised if people leave the theaters confused or even angry (especially if they brought their kids with them thinking this was a revamped The Incredibles- foolish). To this I say, it's your own damn fault. The joke's on you. And if you don't find it funny, it comes as no surprise: "The Comedian is dead."

Bloggy call

2009-02-23T15:52:00.000-05:00

I don't update enough. It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's just that I don't like you. Take it personal.

This is just a quick "let you know" that I will try to be a little more attentive to your existence, maybe take you out for a walk now and then, feed you here and there. Juicy gossip isn't really my thing, but maybe a little sweet piece of me every now and then wouldn't hurt, right? Keep this relationship chugging along until I find a better-looking site that is more attentive to my needs. In fact, I've already started "twittering" (/flipryan), but it's not that I want to see other blogs or networks- it's just I'm not a one-site man anymore.

Cheer up. At least I didn't ditch you like I did to MySpace. That was unforgivable.

Lost for words

2009-02-06T10:26:00.000-05:00

The following is the conversation I had with myself at work yesterday about my favorite show currently on television, Lost, an ABC drama that dabbles in mythology, mixes in sci-fi, and plays with people's sanity. I would have this with ANYBODY ELSE AT WORK, but unforunately, nobody here watches anything but CSI. Lame.

Self: So Ryan, Lost has just hit the ground running for Season Five: what's been the most interesting part of it, in your opinion?

Voice: Well, Ryan, I'm glad you asked. I've been pleasantly surprised at how quickly paced these first four episodes have been. Usually, we're bombarded with information that leads to questions and a lot of waiting before getting any answers. This season still tickles the mind, but with the knowledge that there are only 30 or so episodes left, the questions seem to get their answers with much more urgency, and the bigger revelations that we've been waiting for over the years seem to be close at hand.

Self: That's a lot of words for someone who could have just said "less questions, more answers." But I get that you like to hear yourself speak, you.

Voice: You're absolutely right. I'd just like to add that I wouldn't mind another "character episode" thrown into all these "action episodes." It looks like we might get that with Jin returning to the land of the living thanks to Rousseau and company.

Self: Hello! Spoiler alert! How hard is it to say "spoiler alert," huh? I haven't even watched "The Little Prince" yet!

Voice: That is a lie. You watched it with me.

Self: Fair enough. So what's going to be the big payoff for you? I mean, I know you don't care if they all get off the island or if they go back and all get killed or if Eko does a cameo some time. What can they do on this show that made the last five years worth your time? How does this end?

Voice: Jack wakes up in the jungle of Thailand and realizes he's been dreaming the whole thing. Active imagination. And no, not really. They're all dead.

Self: Since I know you're not taking me seriously, and I know this because I'm not either, then how about you try that again, this time with more feeling.

Voice: Honestly, I'm not interested in speculating on how Lost is going to end. The "big payoff" you speak of will be the completion of the story- I trust that the writers of the best show on television today will not disappoint. What I'm hoping for above all is this show to satisfy. It needs to feel... complete.

Self: So what keeps your interest? Who are your favorite characters and plotlines and mysteries?

Voice: I, like most viewers, follow the Desmond stories more closely than the others. I loved the early parallels with Homer's Odyssey, and I admit that I was a little choked up during last season's "The Constant," in which Desmond and Penny first made contact after his extended stay in button-push island. That being said, I had wished for a more sordid reunion, a la Alan Moore's marooned mariner in "Tales of the Black Freighter" within the pages of Watchmen. It seems that three years removed from the island, Penny and Desmond have settled into a reclusive family life at sea, though the narrative will undoubtedly pull them back into the crosshairs of the Oceanic Six's plight to get back to the island. Having seen Desmond's rescue at the end of Season Four, I couldn't help but think that this reunion would have to be short-lived, especially after Mrs. Hawking's assertion in "Flashes Before Your Eyes" that pushing the hatch button was the most important thing he would ever do. As much as I would like to see him have his happy ending, and as much as I believe that the writers of this show would not take that away from him, I can't seem to get it out of my head that a better ending is on its way, one that is tragic, more heroic, but ultimately less satisfying. So to answer your question in part, the Desmond character and stories are my favorite ones. To a lesser extent, Locke's leadership storyline and Faraday's space-time theories keep the interest brewing inbetween the plight of Desmond and the Oceanic Six drama. Hurley has his moments too, but he's become less interesting without the Charlie foil to juxtapose against.

Self: Well you sure like to talk, don't y...

Voice: In terms of mysteries, there are two main story elements for which, if the show were cancelled today, I would be inclined to kill, or at least start a firm letter-writing campaign. One is as old as the show itself, the other is fairly new. First and foremost, the black smoke. They know it, we don't. It's been this way for the entire series. There have been numerous hints as to the nature of this phenomenon, including the blast door map with initials "CV" which producers have confirmed refer to what Kelvin called the "Cerberus Vents." As Cerberus was the guardian of the underworld in Greek mythology, what is the black smoke monster protecting on the island? Is the island some kind of representation of an underworld? Hands down, the biggest mystery of the island. What IS this black smoke? I need to know. Secondly, and maybe more importantly, who or what is Jacob? We know that the Others seem to take their orders from this mysterious being, and at his inception, Jacob seemed less like a person and more like an idea or at least the manifestation of whoever was leading the Others at the time. However, the various cabin incidents lead viewers to believe that the character is real and quite human, especially in his "help me" plea to Locke when Ben introduces the two as well as his association with Christian and Claire in Season Four. These incidents seem to rebuke the theories that Jacob is a character we already know, as Ben and Richard Alpert and even Claire have not made any indications towards this (whether it's because this is fact or because the "Jacob" character wants it that way). I'm of the notion that Jacob is one of our "Losties" (in my opinion, Locke), and I can't prove it an any way whatsoever. So please: Jacob?

Self: ...

Voice: What?

Self: Are you done?

Voice: Well, I could go on and on about String Theory and how the show uses some of its basic principles (most notably electromagnetism and extra dimensions, or the hidden dimensions outside of 3-D's of space + 1-D of time) and even a name or two ([Stephen] Hawking radiation) to give it some backbone. But even without all the science (fiction) mumbo-jumbo, the true heart of this show is in its characters, the ones who have lived and died on this little island.

Self: I'm sorry I asked.

Voice: You asked because you wanted to know. The answers you got were inevitable.

Self: I need to get back to work.

Voice: What you need is to find some co-workers who like this show, or at least some people that can deal with a person who talks to himself.

Self: Wait a second. Who is this?

Voice: ...

The importance of industry and toil

2008-12-04T15:05:00.000-05:00

An interminable work day can drag you by the throat for 8+ hours, especially when you aren't busy. When things do become industrious, it's easy to let things pile up so people don't bother you with real work. But when you have little else to do but count the minutes rolling seemingly backwards to your eventual dismissal from the office dungeon, you find ways to occupy your time not involving physical harm (mostly). Days like today, I like to explore the following:

Gchat: Oh what I would do without Gmail's simple, yet fortuitously indispensable chat function? Shudder to think of the inner slow death without the release of expletive-laden chat windows. Also very popular: Reading away/busy messages and commenting on them as if they were conversational pieces. Most people tend to emblazon an inane quote or song lyric. Make a game of it: ID the quote or track, give yourself a point, then make up a song lyric of your own that no one can identify- thus, you win.
Surfing the ARPAnet: Who knew that Al Gore's "Gore Bill" of 1991 would provide me with the opportunity to chat, take online surveys, shop for crap, read video game reviews, follow my Cleveland sports teams, edit my fantasy football roster, blog, and do a magnolia of things besides processing purchase orders. It's a shame that YouTube is disabled. There's so much more that can be done!
Breaks!: Frequent and prolonged. Sometimes, you just can't sit when you can't sits no more. Or my favorite: the after-4PM trek to the men's room with my iPod touch. Nothing like sitting on the can while watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother and waiting for the workday to flush away with the terrible burrito you had for lunch. (Note: On Gchat, my away message in these cases is "sending out a fax.")
"Friends come and go, but enemies accumulate": Making friends is nice, albeit repetitive. Yes, it sounds awful, but it's actually much more fun antagonizing colleagues and fabricating rivalries. This can be done with the people in the same department as yourself, but it is not advised. These people are potential allies in office warfare, soldiers in your eventual campaign against, say, Quality Assurance or MIS. And it's not about making fun of a person's clothes or hairstyle. Nothing direct. Making enemies is as easy as sitting too close to another person in the cafeteria. It's mispronouncing a man's name repeatedly, even after being corrected numerous times. It's washing your hands in the bathroom but not drying them, so that when you grab the doorknob, it becomes damp enough to make the next person, preferrably your target, wonder about you for just an instant. It's forwarding a person's entire department staff a funny e-mail and only putting your adversary in the CC field. We're talking subtlety, people. It's much more fun when the villain in your story doesn't even know he is one. (Highly recommended!)
Butterfly in the sky? I can go twice as high: Always a book nearby, or at least an Onion newspaper (doesn't matter how recent) within reach. Nothing says "I am finished with working today" like a 400-page bestseller on top of your keyboard. Any strange looks from passersby should be reciprocated likewise, with eyes that should say, "What, not done yet?" Bonus points for being genuinely immersed in whatever you are reading.
Speaking of words: Crosswords! I have never done more crosswords in my life than at my desk at work. My favorite is the Onion AV Club Crossword, but the L-Magazine, while less clever, gets props for its peewee proportions. Also, yelling out random clues to a dying office for help can be a unifying experience. (Not yet proven to be true.)
Rubik's cube: Hungarian scupltor Erno Rubik must have had a white collar job before inventing the world's best-selling toy. There's nothing wrong with solving the cube over and over and over again instead of dealing with those files that need to be scanned and emailed out ASAP.
OMG ROFLMAO XOXO1!!11!!!: Texting. Texting. 1. 2. 3. Texting.
Recycling Bin Paper Basketball: Options are dwindling, so allowing others to join your fray becomes more viable. Playing P-ball is usually reserved for non-boss days, but kudos to you, daring parchment pioneer, for catching fire from downtown (or the Upper East Side here) while the boss is on a conference call.
Drinking: Okay, this I don't do. Partly because I don't hate my bosses. Far from it. This doesn't mean I haven't come to work under the weathered influence of Mr. Jameson, only that I don't keep a bottle of 151 in my bottom drawer behind the stacks of Onion and Village Voice newspapers next to the can of Dustoff where it can be easily poured into a plastic water cooler cup or held in a small, tin flask, especially not placed in the second drawer behind the napkins and plastic utensils saved months on end for at-my-desk snacks that would go splendidly with a hard drink. But surely this has passed my mind from time to time.
Talking: Warning! This is a last resort. I find it much more fulfilling to keep to yourself about boredom. "Talking about it" is something reserved for alcoholism, divorce, depression... boredom chats tend to be of the whiny variety, normally ending with, "I wanna go home" or "I'm sleepy." There is nothing to be accomplished by talking about boredom. I've also made the mistake of finding myself in horrible, horrible conversations about God-knows-what; there's no escape from these tedious time-ravaging dialogues. The only thing you have in an office like this is secretive discretion, and your best weapon against intrusion is polite misdirection. In the cold war of office politics, talking should only be used as a red herring to whichever crossword puzzle or website perusal which veritably and justifiably preoccupies your attention. Do not walk into the mine field of water-cooler chats.

Well, I hope you enjoy your daily toil as much as I do. With so much to do, it's pretty hard to believe that I can get any work done at all! And I sometimes do. Now if you excuse me, "I have to go send out a fax."

Look out! Shoe!

2008-11-20T12:03:00.000-05:00

Well, today is starting out kind of crappy. My Cavs lost last night, and it was kind of a hassle to find this out (long story involving a sports bar, a confused bartender, a muttering bull man, and a great burger/beer deal). Then, at work, I'm working. I hate that. Obviously, it's not too bad, since I have the time to type this out, but this post would be a little more verbose had I not had to carry this office on my back for the last two hours since everyone seems to have disappeared. Not my favorite position to be in. And now I gotta eat lunch. I want to just be alone. (I've also just been informed that Browns QB Brady Quinn has a fractured finger on his throwing hand. I will no longer be posting happy thoughts.)

In a more optimistic look at life, hopefully it doesn't snow on Saturday morning. I need to school some kids on the basketball court. It would also be nominal if I didn't pull a hammy as I did the last pick-up game I played two months back. That was quite the bitch.

Record. Repeat. Record repeats and first-runs.

2008-11-19T13:26:00.000-05:00

Things have been pretty up and up these days, save for the abnormal number of sudden passings of family and friends of various people I know. For that, I am sorry and my condolences. But this blog isn't about the sad stories- it's about shits and giggles! It's about the creme de la creme of life.

First and foremost, Barack Obama! Winner by a landslide- poo poo on you kids (me included) who thought less of America up until Election Day. The Onion that week had a very awesome crossword, with clue #1 saying something like, "Immediately, Today: As of November 5, 2008" and the answer was "Now," but after solving the theme answers (i.e. "Rapping Paper" or "Mustache Ax"), it was apparent that the answer to that first clue was "No W." and I couldn't stop laughing since. Just imagine, a world without W... it's all happening. Ah. Breathing again.

The Cleveland sports world is looking more awesome than ever, what with Brady Quinn finally getting his reps and Lebron's Cavs on an 8-game winning streak. Yes, I usually go on and on about this, but that's actually fodder for another site. Which you should read, if you like Cleveland sports and occasionally decent, always passionate writing.

In the world I know, little things are going in the right direction. Like, I love DVR. It truly is the king of kings. I get to watch episodes of Gargoyles that only air at 2:30am for vampire children. Then there's the Watchmen Motion Comics that're on iTunes these days. Normally, any kind of technological revamp of classic lit/film makes my stomach turn- and to do it to the zenith of comic book exposition? Well good luck with that. The film to be released next year has looked pretty on the trailers, but comic book movies tend to fail in the script department, not the cinematography. We can take a wait-and-see approach to that. But the webisodes on iTunes have made the transition from the funny pages to a digital medium so seamless that I have become invigorated about Watchmen again. Fantastic.

You know what's great? Animal Crossing. It's on the Wii now. I want that. Digital crack. I quit smoking, so I have some cash to spare. Although thinking of Animal Crossing makes me realize what a waste of time video gaming truly is if you don't cherish the time that you play them. AC is just a game of multitasking for talking animals. There's nothing to "get" if you haven't played it before, and it's easy to lose two, three hours a day doing whatever it is you do in this game. Plus, add to that the fact that every iteration of this game since N64 has been virtually the same game: it's the video game equivalent of buying a motorcycle. You buy the game (bike) to feel young again, but you know you're probably going to play (ride) it a few times before you get over yourself and accept that you're too old for it, only to stash it away in your shelf (garage), never to be used again, save for the occasional lapse of judgment or mid-life crisis. Along these lines, it's easy for casual gamers to look at hardcore players as wasting their time. But everyone has his own "things," and these are the things that do it for them. And whether its running mindlessly around a track or FPS-ing monsters on digital planetary space stations, people need to "waste" their time as a release from the monotony of habitual daily life.

Speaking of wasting time, sorry Michigan fans, it's been quite a season with DickRod, hasn't it? Michigan week is usually a joyous occasion, a time to get together and bemuse yourself with college football's most treasured rivalry. The Buckeyes haven't lost since Arnold was a Terminator, and just as I don't want to see the Governator sporting machine part arms and legs again, I think what's in order is another year of the scarlet and gray flying victoriously into the night. Nine losses. Now I know what it feels like when doves cry.

Well, there you have it. Life is fairly good. Universal karma dictates that shit will hit some fan soon... meh, I say. I'm Catholic. Ish.

Something borrowed, something blue

2008-11-04T09:35:00.000-05:00

For comparison's sake.

Voting in Ohio, circa 2004: I went to vote after work in 2004, with "Flush the Flipper" buttons congregating in urinals, Katrina stories intertwined with polls packing the news headlines, "Mission Accomplished" and counting still fresh in our minds. The voting booths in the cafeteria/basement area were computerized machines, complete with light-up giant buttons, velvet carpet & curtains, and optional espresso machine. Aside from the old men in black cloaks who guarded each exit, with their droll, expressionless faces doing little to hide their scorn for every under-30 voter who waited patiently in line, there was hardly an indication that we were to endure another four years of the Dubs. Sure, Kerry was weak and "unwilling" to campaign dirty, going against the Anti-Christ himself, the man who somehow convinced the majority of the Senate that Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein were interchangeable terms- we had our torches and pitchforks at the ready, the farewell ship already cutting anchor and pointed towards the Island of Forgotten American Fuck-ups (aka, Cuba). Voting that day was meant to be THE turning point- the day America said, "Yeah, we know. My bad. Let's fix this together."

It was not to be.

We know the rest of the story, unfortunately. An election "won" the following day, after Kerry's unreal concession. Speculation on the validity of modern voting machines that has gone on to this day. The Inconvenient Truth of global warming. Apocalypto the film release. Windows Vista. What caused all of this horror? Ohio, the black heart of it all.

Not today, my friends. Not ever again!

Voting in New York, circa this morning: Nice little ladies in cardigan sweaters and fishbowl spectacles pointed me and her to three separate, generously-disorganized tables where they speculated on the correct booth in which we were to vote. After some mild confusion on whether or not my Ohio driver's license was a valid ID for my New York address, a quick flash of some junk mail (thanks for the first time ever, Wilmington, DE, for your incessant credit card offers!) and I was in line and waiting for my turn. It was 7:30am and the "line" consisted of an elderly lady, her, and me.

The voting booth seemed to be the same one that voted in Nixon. A woman was just finishing up; she stepped out, confused, and in went the elderly lady. The curtain that draped over the entrance seemed to have seen a few too many general elections and bottoms of service closets. It tried to cover the voting booth but failed miserably. I know this because I watched as the lady two spots ahead voted for someone, pulled the latch, and continued to vote two more times, it would seem. Luckily, the 14-year old girl who didn't speak English was watching over the booth from a few feet away, letting the woman know that she was finished. Pointing at us, the girl exclaimed, "Aqui, aqui!" and I waited as she went in next.

When my turn came, I walked in and pushed the curtains behind me. The rusty red bar creaked loudly as I pulled it into place. I imagined the odd switch on the top left for Mr. Obama and Mr. Biden wearing out and falling apart from overuse. After voting, the day felt new. Confidently, I marched to the voting officials for my "I Voted" sticker. They didn't have those. Guh.

I'm looking forward to tonight, when the rest of the country voices their opinion. It's time for something different.

Big Blue Bike

2008-11-03T10:31:00.000-05:00

It's Election Day Eve and I don't like this feeling in my stomach. And it's not the sloppy joe sliders and the chicken quesadilla I ate for dinner last night. Tomorrow, America has the choice to head in a different direction or to suck again. I've been assured that all of my worries are unwarranted: according to Real Clear Politics, Mr. Obama has such a lead that if every wavering state somehow slips and goes red, he would still have enough electoral votes to win this thing. But if history repeats itself, this "thing" is open to every possible surgical tampering imaginable. I'm an optimist... I also overthink things. I'm also easily persuaded and dissuaded. Tomorrow I'll wake up, and who knows? I'll have this big smile on my face looking forward to this bright future (well, post-Bush administration-nonregulation-causing recession). But today, I'm a kid on Christmas Eve- what's in that big box waiting for me tomorrow? Hopefully, it's a brand-new bike.

I got the blues

2008-10-29T13:34:00.000-04:00

Today, I had to throw out my favorite pen. I didn't even know its name (brand). I only knew it by the color of its ink (blue), by the grip that was so comfortably wrapped around its neck, by its utmost reliablity and candor.

I first found this pen by the copy machine, waiting for its abusive owner to come back and neglect it some more. It was cap-less and cold, half-full but barely any life beaming from its unkempt head- I remember it was bleeding.

I looked into its heart and said to myself, "Ooo, new pen!" and snatched it up right then and there. Bluey was there when I corrected the pricing on the office's paper supply. We went hand-and-pen through weeks of timesheets. One time I let a co-worker borrow it and almost forgot when the thief started to walk out the door. "Hey!" I yelled, as the man came back, ashamed at his gaffe. My pen and I were inseparable.

This morning, "Ol' Blue" coughed out a few azure shades that faded into invisible traces like footprints after treaded puddles. It even offered fleeting moments to stay its execution when beautiful, brilliant blue flowed freely onto the daily expense requisitions it had been filling out for months on end. I'd startled the docile office when I threw my fist in the air, blue pen in hand, and exclaimed, "He's alive! Blue is alive and truckin'! We're back in business!" Sure, a few snarling jeers were thrown my way (along with some captious paperclips). I didn't care. An innocent was spared the harsh reality of inky mortality. But after a few minutes, it was spent.

It died in my hands.

I threw it in the trashcan and pulled out a brand-new PaperMate medium-ink blue pen. It's a little light, and it doesn't handle the spinning tricks as well, but it will have to do. It doesn't feel the same- I don't think it ever will... although I do like chewing the crap out of this cap. Bluey never did have a cap.

A little food for thought

2008-10-02T12:15:00.001-04:00

I'm about to leave for lunch, and immediately, I suggested we go eat sushi...

I eat sushi a lot. I love it. It helps that it's fairly cheap near my work. But, while filling out a waste of time survey a week ago, I said my favorite food was pizza. Pizza! Is this true? And come to think of it, I really love chicken parmigiana. All this talk of food...

Last night, for her birthday, we went to Fette Sau, a place known for its ribs and what was reminiscent of a hipster version of The Hog's Head. If you want to gain weight but enjoy every second of it, go here, preferrably on a rainy weeknight when it's not nearly as crowded. The chef (?) was very helpful and knowledgeable about what he recommended. The beer selection was novel, but the bartender could've had a better day I suppose. The chef thought we'd like the "Pork Sampler," whatever it was called, and he was right. It was de...wait for it.. lightful! Delightful! The next time we come back, we're going to have to try the 1-gallon of beer with our meal. It's October, after all.

Sushi is great. Pizza- no question. But pig? I can eat pig anytime.

Geeks and what they talk about at work over G-Chat

2008-10-01T16:05:00.000-04:00

More conversations, more topics...

Friend121: hey, do you know who Gouken is?

me: i'm sure i should, but no.

Friend121: he's Akuma's older brother. And Ryu and Ken's sensei. he's playable in [Street Fighter] IV. he's been in demand for about oh... 15 years I'd say. possibly longer.

me: fun. unavailable to me, but fun nonetheless. stupid nintendo.

Friend121: yeah

me: god only knows if the next NES system will leapfrog this generation's technology and be at least on par with the other stalwarts- since they already lead in "fun" and "gameplay," if they at least show the capability of graphical sustainance in the next-gen, then it only makes sense that 3rd parties will come back to nintendo, and [hardcore] gamers can come to respect them too.

Friend121: maybe in a few years... right now it's just not financially viable.

me: understandably, it's a financial burden for Capcom to tender the Wii with its own SF4. it would have to be a brand new development team.

Friend121: it's also too expensive to make these games with the ultimate graphics... that eventually end up sucking.

me: it's about companies conforming to nintendo... and that's kinda bullshit.

Friend121: like Too Human for example. the game that was in development for like 10 years- piece of fucking shit.

me: if Nintendo's next gen gave the option of being on par with the ps4 or xbox720 or whatever, meaning giving companies a reason to develop for them be it graphical capabilities or downright equal promo for 3rd parties, then i think the gap between Nintendo and the others in terms of audience and 3rd party games can be bridged.

Friend121: well, the thing is, I don't think N cares anymore.

me: nods.

Friend121: they know where the $ is and they're going to milk it for all its worth- and that market is not the hardcore. they're making more $ than the PS3 and the 360 COMBINED. ESPECIALLY in japan. the 360 has a superior online service. but who cares? Nintendo has the entire casual market not to mention all us old-timers with the VC games...

________________

Well. All that, and all I really wanted to say was "Eff!" Nintendo, for keeping Street Fighter 4 away from me in their devious, nonconfrontational way.

P.S. I still kind of want a PS3, come to think of it. Think unsexy thoughts! Think unsexy thoughts!

Happy Holidays

2008-09-19T12:16:00.001-04:00

Today is International Talk Like A Pirate Day. A transcript from... just now:

me: well, matey i be feeling as though the seas tell me i need to banter with scalliwags in this fashion, argh

me: wooo... it's tough keeping up pirate jibjab
i was always on the ninja's side anyway..

Eric: if ye be a landlubbin' bitch...
yeah, ninjas are better
but talking like a ninja is basically:
...

me: yeah. more like..
::shlink::
[katana slice]

Sent at 12:10 PM on Friday

And I stand by that. Looking up "Talk Like A Ninja Day" on Google now... ::click click click:: Look at that. December 5th is the official Day of the Ninja. Not only is it a day of unsettling silence throughout the world, there will be sneaking, creeping, stealthing, and chips & salsa at the meet and greet. Ninja salsa. Appropriately, I imagine there are some other days to celebrate this coming year, some "real," some "really?":

February 16: Scare-A-Bear Day. Men everywhere, disgruntled by the consumer driven holiday that steals from their wallets and their natural cunning, band together in raccoon-skin underwear and search for caves in order to infiltrate the cozy lairs of the gargantuan, hibernating beasts, leaving trails of leftover candy hearts to find their way back to the lodges where their significant others more sensibly celebrate by playing Big Buck Hunter at the bar. Few survive.

(not mine) April 4: National "File Not Found" Day. Hackers around the world unite, changing one letter on random jpegs and websites, causing error messages and redirecting addresses to porn sites, pleasing everyone involved. (*Note: shall replace March 1st's "Moved Permanently" Day, the annual day to shun that red-headed family down the street to the point of awkwardness and theraputic relief once they put up a "For Sale" sign on their front lawn.)

(not mine) July 9: National Funny Hat Day. 3-hour minimum qualification prior to geekhood. Or legend? No, geek.

September 9: International Slot Machine Day. Everyone's a winner! Just drop a dollar on 9-9-09. Can I borrow a dollar? I'll pay you back. Gimme a dollar.

Sunday After Easter/Christmas: Disgruntled Priest Day. Preceded the week prior by Smug, Cynical Priest Day, in which the pastor looks disdainingly at the packed pews and aisles while referring to them as "the new faces" every five seconds. Sermons on Disgruntled Day begin by surveying the hollow church, followed by a long sigh. Six celebratory church closings, minimum.

It's Ms. Cakester if you nasty.

2008-09-09T16:06:00.000-04:00

Oreo Cakesters are a delicious treat. Quite satisfying. Like, I wasn't even hungry, having had a salmon teriyaki box lunch from Kao Sushi (pronounced, like I imagined, "cow sushi," which makes me double take every time.. double take every time) and a bag of Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips to get me through this exciting work-ish day. I was one quite the full, or fool (eh?), and doing nothing more than wiggling my fingers at a keyboard all day, which qualifies as "my daily activity." Thus, eating the delectable misnomer of a black and white cookie, its spongy, crusted shell very poorly protecting its rich, saccharine creamy center, certainly could be seen as supererogatory as the third dimension of a 3-D movie- dizzying and only mildly amusing prior to the nausea.

No, Oreo Cakester, you were not needed today, and the effects of your procurement will be seen for years and years yet to come in the form of cravings and pant sizes. But yes, Oreo Cakester, you were quite loved and wanted and appreciated in the minutia of your existence. You were delicious.

The comfortable chair speaks of her day.

2008-09-01T23:24:00.000-04:00

Dear Journal,

Today I had a pretty good day. But first, a precursor.

I worked for a long period of time. It was uneventful and a wholly perfunctory period of richless, ingratiation only not at all. I earned a vacation of wonder and sun and above all time away from the madness that is NYC.

I spent a week in Ft. Lauderdale where it was sunny for minute periods of time before I went to take frequent bathroom sabbaticals, which seemed to be directly linked to perpetual thunderstorms in the area. Seriously, every time I took a dump, I'd come out to a hurricane. It was ridiculous. Regardless, it was still a very awesome time.

I spent a week in Ohio, mostly in Cleveland with the family. I visited Columbus under the guise of saying hello to some friends, but my ulterior motive was far more interesting. I had asked her parents for their blessing, which was a lot less nerve-wracking than I had made it out to be. It helps that I love her family. After that mushy business, I spent two days with my boys marathoning Firefly, which turns out to be one of the best shows ever, to my nonsurprise.

Anyway, mixed into all this, I bought a black suit (swanky!), bought an engagement ring (spensive!), and ate ridiculous portions of all types of foods (mmm... sushi) on my vacation from real life.

Then came today.

...

I was gonna go into the whole ordeal, about how I spent the entire day with her, abusing NY public transportation, even trying to ride a water-taxi (to no avail), wandering the city limits, eating at Grimaldi's (finally, but it ain't no Anna Maria's, I tell you what!), walking the Promenade, proposing and getting a blank stare and an "are you kidding?" and the eventual "yes" (with pictures!), and the contentment at the end of the day on our blue corduroy chair, probably the most comfortable chair ever made... yeah, I was going to get into all that, but I think I'll keep that to myself.

It was a good day.

Legen...dary!

2008-08-18T12:21:00.000-04:00

Thank you, Myopenbar Miami for the free drinks! We showed up at a random hotel bar for the complimentary cocktails (twelve or so) and the free pool (against the French, as if you need a reason)- this place, coincidentally, being the same hotel that my cousin is having her bachelorette party next weekend. Odd.

Well long story short, he took a piss on Versace's house, impersonated Swarley all night, and came back to the room with three (loud) girls. That, sir, is what you call LEGEN... wait for it... DARY. Related, been watching a lot of HIMYM. Awesome.

Unrelated: second year in a row that I'm not spending my August 18th in NY, the day I moved there. I hope this isn't a "thing."

Soul food

2008-08-16T21:44:00.000-04:00

We spent $300 on groceries, which I have dubbed "soulless."

I'm in Ft. Lauderdale, FL sharing time in a time-share that makes my Brooklyn apartment seem like a dusty old closet. The new Flight Of The Conchords dances across the air while the Cubs are losing to the Marlins on the Samsung television on mute in the background. The Peroni bottle is warm but inviting. The A/C kicks on sporadically and we have no beach towels. The only sound I hear outside is the ocean.

We bought enough food to feed a small island country for a day. Luckily, it's just us for a week. The resort is on the beachfront and close to numerous bars and restaurants (plus we have a car for the week), but our room has a full-sized kitchen that we're utilizing. I've organized the fridge like I own the place. We fit a 25-pound watermelon in there. It looks like I won't be fitting into anything but swimming trunks after this.

I saw two heads watching a movie, laughing

2008-08-14T12:47:00.000-04:00

Two people sat in front of us in the balcony of Regal Union Square Theater as we watched Pinapple Express, the latest Judd Apatow-linked film starring some geeks but mostly freaks. One was a loud, bubbly girl who loved to hear her voice echoing in a large, packed movie house. The other was an even louder fellow whose cackle was more distracting than his abnormally large head that obstructed the bottom center of the screen. These two had such a good time at the movie! They were laughing like it was their job... they were probably a mile high. The movie itself was funny... there's just something about missing a joke or a punchline every now and then that can kill the experience. Luckily we only paid $11.75 per ticket. ELEVEN SEVENTY-FIVE. New York, NY- it's a hell of a town!

A little bit louder, a little bit worse

2008-08-13T09:24:00.000-04:00

What makes a good sequel? I'd say, "a good first movie." And I'd be only mostly right.

Last night the kids had a dinner/movie night because everyone I associate with is poor. Plus, because of all the leftovers from the previous few days, we were stocked for nuclear winter, or at least a couple days of hermitude. We sat through a movie whose premise seemed to revolve around reverse racism and a deus ex machina that involved a cadenced, uncooth funny book artist convulsing like Elaine Benes to win the heart of a girl. It was only partly interesting. I was more interested in the white guy who learned hip-hop to impress the girl who worked at the comicbook/record store. Mainly because I wanted to see more of a COMICBOOK/RECORD STORE. How awesome is that.

Next, we re-learned ourselves to a game of (why so serious?) spades while not paying attention to Starship Troopers 2: Hero of the Federation. The original was a campy, ridiculously enjoyable sci-fi flick about war and what it's good for. Its sequel was simply ridiculous. I cannot tell you how bad it was, because to be honest, I only half-paid attention to it, some story about little bugs taking over the bodies of Federation officers to infiltrate blah blah blah... It almost killed movie night! Luckily, we stuck with it and put in the third installment, Starship Troopers 3: Marauder, and we were treated to a surprisingly worthy follow-up.

Now I'm not saying this is nearly as good as the first. That's ludicrous. This, however, did what a good sequel should do. It created a viable setting that referenced, added to, and took nothing (besides Doogie) away from the first film. It even brought back what's his face, whose name eluded me for most of the night. I could have sworn he had a female name, and thus I dubbed him "Leslie." Later on, I realized I was actually referring to the man in tights, who has nothing to do with this movie or to Leslie, save for a penchant for being typecast into bad movie roles. Granted, it did get a little contrived towards the end, what with the unexplained super-robot exoskeletons that basically turned the tide, but I'm not looking for an Oscar contender. I just wanted more Starship, more Leslie, and they brought it as best they could.

If you ever need to waste some night piquing the inner geek inside, do not regret being at least a little curious about ST3. You will probably not hate yourself.

Looking forward to leftovers

2008-08-12T09:16:00.000-04:00

She and I spent the past four days entertaining guests (her family), and I'm ready to sleep on a bed. Unfortunately, this will not happen, as my previous post showed that I became just another Brooklyn asshole. The ink on my arm is still drying, and I don't know if that's normal. It's been two days. I've already stained a pillow, but that could be completely unrelated.

It was (apparently) Asian cuisine weekend as we took our party on the NYC tour of the Far East, and all I wanted was a sushi roll. Friday night, we delighted our soporific guests at Lily Thai, the delectable Thai restaurant, not the talented porn star (no link for you, good sir). It was close to eleven o'clock, and Lily Thai was about to close shop, but the courteous staff welcomed us in and we enjoyed a late evening dinner. After ordering whole fish, sliced duck, and whole fried chicken (among a number of other things), I thought it was time to not wear out our welcome. We packed our leftovers and went on our way (we weren't the last ones to leave either), and I had believed a little variety was in order for the rest of the weekend. How wrong can one be?

Reservations were made and settled at Buddakan, a fancy-shmancy "Asian fusion" restaurant whose family-style foods were portioned for families of anorexic supermodels. The atmosphere was faux-beautiful, dimly-lit (to obscure the price of sake bottles), and warmly cozy, like an adipose dungeon. Aside from being a mountebank cashing in on Hollywood's Asian fetishes, Buddakan's food was exotic and exorbitant, and our waitress was as knowledgeable and high-strung as a coked-out grad student (she probably was one, come to think of it). What can you expect from a $450 bill? (The answer to that is "more food.")

Now we take a break. And by "break" I mean "drink." Which led directly to Anna Maria Pizza and a break from MSG. Nothing like a few beers and some ridiculously large slices of pizza. For everyone else. I was nursing a canker sore at the time and one bite sent daggers up my mouth and flooded my eyes like global warming is doing to our coasts. (This bit of knowledge was very helpful the next day, but I'm getting ahead of myself.)

Our journey continued into Chinatown on Sunday as we treated ourselves to some dim-sum at Dim Sum Go Go, where the wait is long but one's patience is rewarded tenfold. After our table of eight managed to snag a full table, we ordered to our hearts content, checking off $3 items left and right and filling our bellies with myriad foods that literally built towers of serving plates on our unsuspecting table. The staff was curt but extremely quick. One server did not speak a word, except at the very end of our meal when we had asked for the check and he replied, "Check." Another waiter pointed at a spongy circle of bland sitting on one of our plates, explaining how to eat the sea urchin properly. None of us would touch the sea urchin.

At this point, I went and got my aformentioned tattoo. In keeping with the theme of the weekend, ironically, it is a variation of "Hiroshima lovers," a silhouette of man and woman (skeletons) embracing and passionately kissing during a nuclear explosion. It is awesome. Although it didn't hurt like people said it would, there were a few choice spots where I thought concentrating on the pain of me chewing on my canker sore was better than the numbing sensation going on in my left arm. Immediately after, the kids wanted to drink, so we drank and I bled. I also learned that a number of my friends have terrible cellphones that don't receive picture texts (later on, I would learn that I don't know how to send picture texts).

Winding our way around the Great Wall, we (read: "they") decided on Chinese take-out for dinner. Somehow, somehow it cost almost $50. It was at this point that I had enough. The next moment, I thought that I should probably eat something after two hours of bleeding and a few beers. The egg fu-yong from Pac Food was delicious. If it had come within an hour of ordering it, I would have liked it more. The leftovers continued to pile up in the fridge.

Yesterday, the gods decided to serve New York the weather sampler: sunny skies and cool winds, pitch black darkness at 11am, swirling thunderstorms. Needless to say, one of our guests had a flight cancelled. We treated her to a night of romantic comedies and sushi (finally!). Bin Cafe isn't the best sushi place in town, but it won't make you violently ill either (unless you're this guy). We took our chances, and we were satisfied.

The weekend is over, and so ended the tour of Asian foods. I think I've had enough Thai, Chinese, and Japanese for a while... well, for now, we need to finish these leftovers.

Left arm

2008-08-11T19:25:00.000-04:00

"hiroshima lovers"

I'm looking forward to the finished product. For now, it's oh yeah.