So, uh...

How 'bout them Bears?

Shiny

The Firefly-Serenity Chinese Pinyinary has translations of all the Chinese phrases used in the show and the movie. Some of the exchanges are made a lot funnier (and sometimes a lot more serious) when you know what the Chinese means. For instance, instead of Wash spouting "Wuh duh ma huh ta duh fung-kwong duh wai-shung doh" when Saffron tries to seduce him, I now know that he's really saying "Holy mother of god and all her wacky Nephews," which in my book is a lot more humorous.

Check it out. There may be spoilers within, so be forewarned. It's still interesting stuff. Dong ma?

Matthiessen, Photo Style

Saturday had all the appearances of a boring day in the making, so a group of us persons went out to Mathiessen State Park, near glorious Utica, IL. I took the ol' camera along, and decided to make with the photoing. Here's what happened. Enjoy:































It was a good time.

Argh

If I could somehow make House of Blues take human shape, I would punch him right in the eye. "Mr. Blues, you are an offense to music itself," I would say, while gleefully kneeing his groin.

As my folks and I arrived at the House of Blues tonight to hear Keslinger play, we gaped at the line stretching around the building. They hadn't let anybody in yet at 6 o'clock--surely they wouldn't have Keslinger play right at 6. As we went inside to pick up our useless tickets at will call, I heard the familiar chordal stylings of our boys. Sure enough, they were already a good way into their set.

Instead of going outside to wait in the line (which was made much worse by the insanely cold temperatures), we decided to stay in where we could actually hear them play. And because the line outside wasn't coming in yet, they sure as heck wouldn't let us past the rope inside. Someone finally took pity on us, and we got to see them on stage for about 30 seconds of their last song, but that's it.

As we left, it looked like the line hadn't moved at all. Nobody saw them. *sigh*

My brother said nearly every person he knew who bought tickets ($28 tickets, at that) to see Keslinger did not get to see them. Yes, I would elbow the House of Blues in the solar plexus toot sweet.

On the plus side, my folks and I went and ate at Harry Caray's after we left HOB, and I had the distinct pleasure of ingesting some of the finest steak ever. Savory juices exploding out of every bite, it was the kind of steak that makes you realize how great life really is. Mmmm... steak.

So that's it, I guess. House of Blues - 0, Steak - 1.

Keslinger live in concert

So yeah, they won the whole battle of the bands thing. Keslinger will be "opening" for Hanson tomorrow night (Wednesday, 11/16) at the House of Blues in Chicago. The reason for the quotations is that somehow the evil promoter folken have wedged Keslinger into an opening spot that's before the show is supposed to start. If you have tickets and actually want to see Keslinger, please show up way early, at 6 (the "doors open" time).

I hate promoters, but I love Keslinger.

A moment of silence, please...

For Jordan's blog. Looks like the blog deities finally put the ax to it.

*silence*

Vote Keslinger, vote often.

Remember when I was talking about my brother's band? They won that first part, and now it's up to an online vote to determine who gets to open for Hanson.

Go here, and vote Keslinger.

Thank you.

Double You Tee Haich?

I just got a call from my brother to the effect that his band won the Nine FM Battle of the Bands contest and will be opening for Hanson.

Double you tee haich?

Congratulations (I guess) to Nick, Seth, Jon and no-blog-havin' Chris.

Another TV recommendation you won't take.

So, Veronica Mars.

I've been hearing buzz about this show since it started last year but I never checked it out. I rented a couple discs from Netflix and--long story short--now I own the first season.

Veronica Mars takes place in Neptune, a California town where the ultra-rich and the barely scraping by attend the same public high school. Veronica Mars (Kristen Bell) attends Neptune High, where she's just undergone a drastic change in status. Her best friend Lilly was murdered and Veronica's father Keith (Enrico Colantoni), the Neptune sheriff, remains convinced Lilly's father is her killer even after another man gives a full confession. Keith is run out of office and becomes a private detective, making a living from proving infidelities and tracking down bail-jumpers.

All this is bad enough, but for a high school student, it's even worse. Veronica loses all status; her old clique--the rich kids--hate her and the poor kids hate her for having been with the rich kids before. She is roofied and raped when she attends a party for her former crowd. The Veronica that we meet in the flashbacks is not around anymore. We've got a tougher, sardonic, witty Veronica. She's a Veronica that stakes out adulterers for her father with a Calc test yet to be studied for.

It's good stuff.

It's not all terrible dark things, and they've really done an excellent job of balancing lighter material with the seamy underbelly of affluent California. Laughs come pretty readily, mystery abounds, and there are some truly affecting moments. Most of the episodes are pretty self-contained, but each one has little tidbits that contribute to the yearlong story which is a great way to reward viewers (i.e. me).

Oh, and Kristen Bell? Rawr. If Kristen Bell were a dinosaur, she'd have existed in the cuteaceous period.

Veronica Mars : Wednesday, 8PM Central on UPN (wha?)

I bought new socks.

This is awesome.

This update made possible by Gold Toe.

Congratulations, Sox

Here's to the Chicago White Sox on winning the World Series quickly so my regularly scheduled programming can return. I'm just glad baseball's over.

So the Red Sox have broken the curse and the White Sox have won for the first time in 88 years. I think it's Cubbie time next year. I dread the possibilities of a Cubs / White Sox series, though:

Cubs fan: "Hey, go Cubs!"
White Sox fan: shanks Cubs fan in the parking lot and robs corpse.

Heh.

Law of averages

I've seen two movies in a row that I didn't care for. The Weather Man's gotta be good, right?

Please be good.

Domino

I think Tony Scott might actually be some sort of evil genius bent on driving epileptics into seizures. All he has achieved in film is just a mere stepping stone to his diabolical plan.

Yeah. I was actually excited to see Domino, as I liked Man on Fire a ton, with its softening of Creasy and slow buildup to the kidnapping and Creasy's cold exacting revenge. This doesn't really come close to that.

Domino has no subtlety at all. It's all flash and noise, sound and fury and whatnot. The movie actually manages to be dull, despite the constant visual tomfoolery and deliberately convoluted plot.

It's a story about a jaded dropout ex-model who becomes a bounty hunter because it looks interesting. It sounds crazy, but according to the opening titles, it's "based on a true story--sort of." It is crazy, but only because there are so many double- and triple-crosses injected into the plot, you eventually just sit back and stare at the fiercely strobing Keira Knightley up on the screen.

Mickey Rourke was, as always, cool. Tom Waits has a guest appearance as a traveling preacher-oracle guy in the desert who holds forth prophecy to the bounty hunters while--wait for it--a Tom Waits song is playing in the background! Meta-film at its best!

I'm going to refuse to rate this on the grounds that I can and what are you going to do about it?

A History of Violence

I think this would make a great date movie. A cornucopia of some of the most brutal violence I've ever seen, completely unsympathetic characters and two of the most awkward uncomfortable sex scenes ever combine to make this the feel-good movie of the year.

Seriously, though, I don't know. I guess I just didn't really dig it.

Basically, Viggo Mortenson is a small-time diner owner in a small-time town who becomes a hero when he deftly kills two armed assailants in his eatery. His apparent aptitude for violence raises questions among his family--one of the more interesting areas explored by the film--and the locals. Some shady characters come to pay a visit to our hero, convinced they know him. Where it goes from there is up to you to find out, if you're still interested.

I consider myself fairly desensitized to violence (although I have not and will not see any of the famed Miike movies), but this stuff made me pretty uncomfortable. But look on the bright side: if I ever want to see a guy get slugged in the nose like forty times until his face is a bloody ruin, I can rent A History of Violence. As for the sex, I suppose I should have expected it from the guy who made the movie about people getting busy in car wrecks.

I liked Ed Harris and William Hurt in this and Viggo was decent, but like I said, none of the characters are even remotely sympathetic. Well, perhaps the Viggo's character's son, but he's kind of ancillary anyway. I don't mind if I hate a main character, but I at least want to care either way what happens. I didn't really care here, unfortunately.

Also, the movie opens with one of the most boring oners I've ever seen. There are better ways to convey boredom, Mr. Croenenberg (see: the opening to Once Upon a Time in the West). Shame on you.

I suppose A History of Violence gets two scalding coffee pots to the face out of a possible four scalding coffee pots to the face.

Wow.

In the matter of Penny Arcade v. Jack Thompson:

I read Penny Arcade quite regularly. It's a comic strip devoted to gamer culture which is an often funny, mostly clever, well drawn strip that I've been checking out since I went to school in '99. These guys have done great things with their exposure; Child's Play--a drive that they have organized and run the last two Christmas seasons--has donated ridiculous amounts of games, toys, and money to children's hospitals around the country. These guys have also butted heads with pretty much everyone possible. They've been forced to take a comic down by American Greetings, accidentally signed their publishing rights away, and now: Jack Thompson.

I first heard of Jack Thompson in an interview with EGM wherein he detailed his anti-game violence agenda fairly well. I got the impression that he was an intelligent lawyer who was concerned for the youth of today. You better believe he was all over the Hot Coffee thingy. Things have gotten odder and odder, though, as he seems to have begun a campaign of misinformation and bizarre proposals:

Miami, Florida Attorney Jack Thompson, a long-time outspoken critic of violent and sexually explicit videogames, has done something totally unexpected. Thompson today actually proposed a violent videogame, and will pay $10,000 to the favorite charity of Paul Eibeler (the Chairman of Take-Two Interactive) if any videogame company will "create, manufacture, distribute, and sell a video game in 2006" based on a scenario he created.

You can visit that article if you want to see a description of his "game" but it's pretty wretched, so maybe you're better off just staying here.

Anyway, somebody met his challenge and built a modification of an existing game to meet his criteria. Thompson chose to then pass off his proposal as satire, therefore no $10,000.

Penny Arcade's response?

Thompson now claims that his repellent suggestion was "satire," and we must conclude that his financial offer was also satire, some new breed of satire apparently that I'm sure is just hilarious to people in need.

You know what, Jack? We're going to be the men you're not. You said that your insulting, illusory ten thousand dollars would go to the charity of Paul Eibeler's choice. We've got a good guess that he'd direct your nonexistant largesse toward The Entertainment Software Association Foundation, a body that has raised over six point seven million dollars over the last eight years. We've just made the donation you never would, and never meant to. Ten thousand dollars' worth. And we made it in your name.

Absolute cojones. I love these guys.

If you want to read more from Penny Arcade's side of things (and in much better prose!), check these two news pages:
PA News 10/14
PA News 10/18

Ahahahaha

Kal-El Coppola Cage? Dude, you're just slating that kid for punishment.

In other news, go see Serenity.

Shame on you, America

[fanboy transmission]

1. Flightplan - $15.0M
2. Serenity - $10.1M
3. Tim Burton's Corpse Bride - $9.8M
4. A History of Violence - $8.2M
5. Into the Blue - $7.0M

I must highlight the fact that the cinematic turd known as Flightplan outearned the delicious feast that is Serenity. $10.1 million isn't going to do it. The world needs sequels to be made! Well, I need sequels to be made, but let's not split hairs here.

It is encouraging that Serenity has the second highest dollars per theater figure. I'll be going again sometime this week, and you should too.

[/fanboy transmission]

Holy crap.

I was planning on seeing Serenity on Sunday out at AMC, but Seth and Chrissy came over last night and telepathically convinced me to go out at wimpy Carmike (RIP, GKC) Market Square here in town. Seriously, it was telepathic. They just looked at me and waited for me to suggest it.

The movie was fantastic. As a fan of the series, the movie was everything I had hoped it would be. It was a major gift to the faithful without devolving into total fan service; Serenity appears to be very accessible to newcomers as well. The film is thrilling, hilarious, and affecting - perhaps moreso than any I've seen so far this year.

Joss Whedon is back in the saddle in a big way. The action is some of the best he's ever shot, the dialogue is wonderful (as always--it's Joss), the special effects are as glorious as ever (probably even a little bit better), and the characters--sweet fancy Moses, the characters!

All the characters from the series are back and not a one has been corrupted by the Hollywood process. Mal (Nathan Fillion) displays the same split of stoic pragmatism and nobility he did in the series, and the limits of both are tested severely in the film. Jayne (Adam Baldwin) still provides a lot of gruff guy comedy, but he has a couple serious lines that just knock a room silent. Kaylee (Jewel Staite) is as adorable as ever and gets to deliver some of the funniest lines in the movie. The Operative (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is an assassin after the crew who, despite his deadly prowess, possesses a far more powerful weapon: unwavering belief in his cause.

I can't really say a whole lot more about the movie without spoiling major stuff, but let me say this: if you are going into a Joss Whedon movie without expecting to see a girl beating a lot of people up, you're way off base. River (Summer Glau) is absolutely butt-kickingly cool in this movie. If you've seen the series, you were expecting something like this the whole time; now you've got it.

I offer only one caveat for those who'd like to see this. See the television series first, please. Go out and buy it, rent it or, assuming you're a brigand of the worst sort, download it between bank robberies. You will enjoy this movie so much more if you've seen the series first. I geh-ron-tee.

So yeah. It's good. It's really really good.

Serenity

It's here. Now the only question is when do I see it? Perhaps a Zach Special Double Feature on Sunday along with A History of Violence at the old AMC Cantera 30. That sounds like fun.

*excitement*

Ahem

Please direct your attention to the right, where you will find an updated list of quality blogging establishments. Please visit them and donate comments to the needy.

In the Mood for Love

Pete once recommended this movie to me, telling me more or less that the movie's about an emotional affair between two of the most beautiful people in the world. A couple years later, I finally rent it, and he's pretty much spot on.

Two married couples move into spare rooms in adjacent apartments. Apparently a lot of people lived in a single apartment over there in the 60's, because both apartments are bustling, alive places, which serves as a stark contrast to the lonely lives that both Mr. Chow and Mrs. Chan live. Both conclude that their perpetually absent spouses are involved in extra-marital affairs. Through a few chance encounters, Mr. Chow and Mrs. Chan form a bond and become friends, though they have to deal with the temptations presented by the new relationship.

The film is mostly presented in a series of short snippets of daily business for the two leads; Mr. Chow's conversations with co-workers at his indeterminate job, Mrs. Chan's secretarial duties which seem to be comprised mostly of helping her boss have an affair of his own, and nightly trips to the noodle stand down the street. At first, the slice of life editing felt jarring, but it grows on you and makes you feel that a more straightforward approach would have been less interesting. Also intriguing is the fact that we never see the face of either cheating spouse, but we only hear their voices. Their disloyalty is not what the film is about; rather, their infidelity is pushed to the side as we watch a friendship blossom.

Ultimately, what I found the most notable was the score. The movie uses a couple Spanish-language Nat King Cole songs and one lovely orchestral piece. The score helps tremendously to establish an epic mood for this romance and the spare soundtrack lends more significance to the few pieces used.

Anyway, I dug it. It's a good romance, if I'm allowed to say such a thing. It's a very subtle romance, and it makes me wish more American romances were made this well.

Rating: In the Mood for Love gets three thermoses of noodles out of a possible four thermoses of noodles.

I'm so dumb

As I was driving home a couple days ago, listening to WGN, and I hear a commercial for this at-home paternity test. Swab little Johnny's mouth, swab Daddy's mouth, mail it off and voila! Instant results!

So I get to thinking: you only ever hear about paternity tests; why don't we ever hear about maternity tests?

Oh yeah.

The audacity!

Dave, nobody falls asleep on my blog. Get it together, man.

Oldboy

Laugh, and the world laughs with you.
Weep, and you weep alone.

Oldboy is about Oh Daesu, a man to whom we are introduced in a series of scenes in a police station. He is drunk and late for his daughter's birthday. While his friend, courteous enough to bail him out, makes a phone call, Oh Daesu disappears. He is kidnapped and imprisoned in a hotel room-like cell for fifteen years. Then he is let go without knowing why. Oldboy is about the search for why, but I've discovered that in this particular case, the search is much more important than the why.

The movie alternates evoking horror, savage satisfaction, and sweetness. We watch him harden himself in his prison, knowing that as he punches the plaster walls he is shaping himself into the instrument of his revenge. We watch in awed horror (I did, at least) as he consumes a live octopus; his desire for contact with life after his release is such that he walks into a sushi restaurant and orders "something alive." We watch, again in horror, as Daesu removes an enemy's teeth with a claw hammer.

This is not a pleasant movie.

I have a new favorite fight scene ever, though. In a one-take pan down a dimly lit squallid hallway, Daesu clobbers his way through a small army of thugs with just his trusty claw hammer at his side. It is as brutal and true as it is technically amazing. Hoodlums pile up, reluctant to be the first to get cracked. People get tired, wheezing as they circle around. Daesu's smile at the end of the fight is a little creepy, but we know how he feels.

I can say one thing for sure about this movie: if you are composing your review in your head while watching it the first time, you are going to have to scrap all your work. I thought I knew where we were going, and we ended up somewhere completely different. Don't approach this movie expecting a Kill Bill or a Count of Monte Cristo. Revenge is certainly Daesu's goal, but Oldboy takes a different tack. Daesu is challenged along the way: revenge now or truth later? Does he even really want revenge? What is the cost?

Rating: Oldboy gets three hammers and a couple pulled teeth out of four hammers.

Next up: In the Mood for Love

A little delay (as if)...

So the Oldboy review is still in the making, but it's going to be even later because I'm going up to Ann Arbor with the family to watch NIU wallop Michigan. Yay!

Something new

Since I rent so many movies and TV shows through Netflix, I've decided that I should get some sort of blog activity out of it. I'll be attempting to coherently review every disc I get in the mail. Hopefully this will be a good thing.

First up: Oldboy.

Heyyy...

I've noticed that a rash of comment-spam has begun to appear on the blogverse. When I saw this, I realized that I might be the only blogger more prolific at policing comment-spam than actually posting.

Chew on that.

A Clarification

weary ( P ) Pronunciation Key (wîr'ee)
adj. wea·ri·er, wea·ri·est

1.Physically or mentally fatigued.
2.Expressive of or prompted by fatigue: a weary smile.
3.Having one's interest, forbearance, or indulgence worn out: weary of delays.
4.Causing fatigue; tiresome: a weary wait.

wary ( P ) Pronunciation Key (wâr'ee)
adj. war·i·er, war·i·est

1.On guard; watchful: taught to be wary of strangers.
2.Characterized by caution: a wary glance at the black clouds.

Please note the distinction and adjust speech and writing accordingly.

And then sometimes life squirts you in the eye with lemon juice.

People leave. People leave, oftentimes for reasons you can't understand. You take them for granted and then they're gone.

You've watched friendships dissolve over distance, over time. You tell yourself that this time it might be different; you're so close to them.

You know perfectly well there's nothing you can do to stop it happening, so you run down the list of who's to blame. No matter how you slice it, it feels like abandonment.

You withdraw from society, shunning all social interaction for fear of friendship's inevitable decay. You become a hermit. With a high-speed internet connection.

(There. I'm all biled out. I feel a little better now)

Harry Potter Update Pt. 2

Half-Blood Prince pages consumed, day two: 350.

Just finished it. I can come out of my internet-cocoon now, unafraid of spoilers.

I don't have much to say, other than that I feel really badly for kids who are still reading the series. Cripes.

Harry Potter Update

Half-Blood Prince pages consumed, day one: 302.

Consensus so far: awww yeah...

Glengarry Glen Ross

David Mamet is a force to be reckoned with.

I think at some point in my life I decided that I would probably never be entertained by movies about real estate. However, as Roger Ebert says, "a movie is not about what it is about, but about how it is about it." This film is about it in a cool way. Four real estate salesmen at a failing branch of a larger company are set against one another in a sales competition to keep their jobs (also, a Cadillac). Meanwhile, they're expected to sell with ages-old leads: people who simply aren't interested. The new leads, the good leads, are locked in the manager's office. How do you win? Do you play by the rules? Do you try to steal the leads? Buy them? Cool.

Jack Lemmon, Kevin Spacey, Alec Baldwin (about as much awesome packed into a cameo as is possible), Al Pacino, Ed Harris, Alan Arkin. Those are six good reasons right there. Al Pacino's monologue in the bar is priceless.

The one thing I don't get about Mamet's writing is that he writes some of the most convincing dialogue for long stretches, but when someone gets mad and starts swearing, the strangest combinations of words come out. Actually, they don't even have to be swearing sometimes.

For other Mamet I've enjoyed, see: Spartan and Ronin.

I've seen others, but I don't remember them well enough to recommend them.

So you want a post?

I've been a tad lax in blogging recently, but that's only because I'm busy hanging on every word of Peter's tropical adventures, being amused in a gamerly way, eagerly awaiting, and re-reading.

While people tell me I need to post, I am left hanging on Seth's discovery of the nexus of dad strength. I am also left clueless why we haven't seen a lovesick post from Jordan upon resumption of Sam.

Basically, not much is happening. Stay classy, North Central Illinois. (And Costa Rica)

Sometimes I love the internet.

Internet Anagram Server.

I could waste hours being amused by this thing. Some samples:

Seth Deming yields these amusing results:

HEDGE MINTS
NEEDS MIGHT
MIDGET HENS
NED GETS HIM
TED MESHING
DIGS THE MEN (!)

Brian Jones gets:

BANJO RINSE
JABS RONNIE
NO SANER JIB
SOBER NINJA
BAN JOINERS

Of course, we must see what it thinks of Jordan Gladden:

A GLAND ON DR JED
DAD JANGLED RON
GRAND NODAL JED
LAD AND NERD JOG
DARN ODD JANGLE

I'm going to stop before I go insane. I've learned some things I must investigate:

Brian's ninja skills are something of a surprise, and I have no clue what he's got against Ronnie. Jordan is apparently one of Dr. Jed's appendages and is participating in a nerd jog (how appropriate). I don't even know what to say about Seth. Ted Meshing would be a cool spy name though.

Vapors

I am a gas.

I am rapidly vibrating molecules with generous spacing. I am insidious, insinuating myself through porous membranes and traveling across open expanses. I am not inhaled at first but I hover and eventually she grows tired of holding her breath. I am exhaled quickly enough but part of me is absorbed. I am getting her acclimated to me.

I am a gas. This is my plan:

Through repeated exposure I will win her over.

I am a gas.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS...

Uh oh

I recently read Fight Club (Chuck Palahniuk) and I've gotta say that I wasn't terribly impressed. I've been told it's better than the movie, but it just didn't work as well for me. I guess pop nihilism reads better on screen than it does in print.

I'm going to give Survivor a shot sometime soon. Hopefully I'll enjoy that more.

Maybe I should just give up and start reading actual literature. Or not.

What goes around...

As long as I've had access to the web, people have been able to self-publish websites, ranging from mediocre one-pagers with photos of family and pets to major endeavors with complex navigation and graphics. In those early days, the super-sites had yet to really be established as main sources for news and entertainment, so I found myself browsing personal Geocities sites.

As a matter of course, the super-sites with their professional (and spell-checked) content quickly eclipsed personal sites and became the staple of my web surfing. As surrogate newspapers and magazines, they quickly scooped any competing personal sites.

We've come full circle. Blogs and forums have brought the focus back to the small-scale content. I still read news sites and DVD sites and such, but once I'm done reading blogs for the day, there's almost nothing else that compels me to keep reading.

Blog sites and software have made self-published content fast and easy. Simple feedback systems have made us bold in demanding new content from our entertaining anonymous friends. We are no longer dealing with sealed off mega-sites to get the bulk of our entertainment and enrichment. Our blog friends, both the faceless and the dear, have become the new staple.

Cool.

primer

Wow. This movie was nuts and I'm not sure I even understood most of what happened. It's a thinking man's sci-fi flick about time travel made for $7,000. It's been done incredibly well, considering the budget. It definitely won't coddle viewers and you have to pay attention to catch everything. In other words, I liked it.

I recommend it, but only if you're interested in actively watching it, possibly more than once. Yeah.

It's done

Well, the self-imposed posting challenge is over. I learned a couple things from this experience. It's fun to try to post every day because I found myself writing more things and also found myself happier with what I wrote. There were a couple days in there that I wasn't happy with (filler days when nothing good was coming), but overall I was pleased with it. You get a lot more comments when you post more, which is fun, even if it's just Neill telling you to check your email.

I'll keep trying to post every day, but there's no reason to post the filler stuff, so if I don't have anything good to post, you probably won't hear from me.

An important rule of blogging (posting challenge: day seven)

Sometimes it's better to say nothing than to say that you've got nothing to say.

Shortly before the end (posting challenge: day six)

Let me tell you about how I wasted the last 12 hours of my life. Sounds crazy, huh? Yeah, that pretty much describes it.

--

I'm at Sara's, getting my weekly aura cleansing. We always talk when she's working--politics, movies, coffee--so when she stops gabbing in the middle of a sentence, I'm caught a little off guard. I open my eyes and look at her, and she tells me point blank that something's wrong and that I'm going to die in 12 hours.

"Oh."

Who am I to be satisfied with one opinion? It's only my life, right? So I go to see my herbalist. I tell him the story and he says he'll see what he can do. He goes to the back room and comes back and gives me a cup full of sludge that tastes like mud. I go back to Sara and ask her if I'm all better and she says that nope, sorry, I'm still doomed.

My Tai Chi instructor only confirms it: in the elegantly appointed dojo, he informs me that my chi is seriously screwed. My interior decorator tweaks my feng shui and says I'll get the bill in the mail. The acupuncturist jabs me appropriately. My broker has plenty of stock tips but no advice and no insight.

Back to Sara. Still about to shuffle off.

My impending doom confirmed, I sit down to plan my final hours. I consider calling my parents, but it would take them the rest of my life to come out here. I think about calling my friends, but we haven't been all that close since last year when I got into Scientology and kept bugging them to get audited. Man, that was a stupid phase.

That leaves me with one person to call--my girlfriend. Do I really want to spend my last hours with her crying on my shoulder? I pick up the phone and start to dial her number, but I put it back down on the cradle. Why ruin her day and mine, you know? So I go to the movies.

The show gets out and as I walk to my car I realize how much of my time I've already wasted. You'll never realize how important your time is until you come out of a movie that took up a sixth of your life. I decide that I'll get my lady something nice, pretend it isn't the end of the world, and have a great time. Finally I've decided on a reasonable plan for the hours leading up to my demise.

I pull up to Carl's Jewelers with 6 hours left and feeling the best I've felt since I found out I was going to die. I walk through the door and nod to the security guard who's getting chewed out by the manager. He returns the nod with a distracted smile. I look through the necklaces for a bit and find one that I know she'll love. And I wait. The manager's retreated to his tiny office and the only salesperson around is busy with a ring-shopping couple that seems way too young to be getting married. You know how whenever you need something right away, it takes forever to get it?

I keep waiting, burning half an hour.

So I say to myself: You're going to die in five hours. Get on with it.

Before I know it, I've got the necklace--she is gonna love it--in my coat pocket and I'm heading for the door. I haven't gone two steps before I feel a meaty hand drop on my shoulder. I turn around and the sheepish guard from the door must have noticed me, because he isn't smiling anymore. I'm not about to spend my few hours in jail. I shove the guy in the chest and turn for the door.

I get punched in the back and a whipcrack sound hammers my eardrums. I turn around and the guard has a gun and where'd he get the gun he didn't have that when I walked in I think and I've got this incredulous look on my face and he just looks shocked. I look at my shirt and Oh Lord my white shirt is all red and I'm all Hail Mary and such and then I'm sitting and so is the guard and the gun falls out of his numb hands.

It doesn't really hurt all that much, but the guard's crying and I feel like crap about it. I try to talk to him, but the words aren't really coming out too well and my mouth feels too dry. I gesture and get him to come closer and I manage to whisper in his ear:

It's okay, man. I was going to die today anyway.

And he looks a little better but I'm having trouble staying awake. And then it's over.

--

When I think back on all this, I realize that I wasted my 12 hours. I died with time left on the clock. I didn't get to say goodbye or make anyone laugh or feel the wind on my face. What really gets my goat, though, is that they were wrong. I didn't have 12 hours left; I died too early for that to be true. I died because I bought into it. I could have had 2 more years or 60 more years, for all I know. Do I regret that it happened like this? Yeah, more than a little. But I know that it would probably happen the same way if I had to do it all over again. Kinda sticks in your craw, huh?

Shabby substitute. (posting challenge: day five)

Okay, so I promised a story today, but you know what? I decided I didn't want to rush it (read: write the story in the 20 minutes before I post it). I'm not that reckless, man.

Instead, I present for your perusal crappy amateur photography!

Here's some of the stuff that happened on my first try with the camera:

After the rain
Sunset obscura
Cement thing

A couple of shots from a lil' fire--underexposed is my middle name:

Dan and the blaze
Dan and the blaze, cont'd
MACRO LOG
MACRO LOG RETURNS
It's a lampshade, but cooler

So that's about it. Hopefully I will have something more substantive for tomorrow night. Good night, folks.

I'm a dick. (posting challenge: day four)

I just realized today that I have missed every single wedding of my college friends. Through some combination of apathy and circumstance, I've missed them all. That's just weird.

When one comes up, there's always a ready rationale for why I can't go. It seems reasonable to me at the time, but I always regret the decision afterwards. I'll be working for the rest of my life, but (hopefully) they'll only get married once.

The worst part is that this isn't just weddings; it's keeping in touch, it's taking little trips to hang out, it's remembering them and the rockin times. I guess absence only makes the heart grow fonder when you've known the person for more than four years or something. That phrase sucked to begin with, anyway.

So why the remorse? It boils down to this: if my friends acted like I do, I probably wouldn't want them as friends.

I need to stop listening to this melancholy music.

(coming tomorrow: a story with a dead narrator. how cliche!)

I might get one of these, except:
A) I don't wear t-shirts.
B) I'm not that much of a dork.
C) If Serenity sucks, he's got some 'splaining to do.

Last call (posting challenge: day three)

I'm about to go to bed because I have to get up early tomorrow. I don't really want to get up at 4:45, but I'm going to have to anyway. The things we do for employment...

If I got a position as a multi-millionaire, I think I'd get to set my own hours.

Also, being a golf course designer sounds relaxing.

(There's better stuff to come this week. Please forgive the hasty filler post. Mmm... pastry filling paste.)

Celebrity Violence: Issue One

Give me a break.

"New York police say [Russell] Crowe was upset about not being able to get a call out to wife Danielle Spencer in Australia. After getting no response from the hotel's management, he went down to the front desk where he took his frustration out by allegedly hurling said phone at the clerk, "hitting him in the face and causing a laceration and substantial pain," according to the complaint."

What kind of celebrity doesn't have a cell phone? Or at least a toady who'll go out and find one at 4 AM? I guess we can't expect more than this from the man who won our affections playing a vicious warrior and a mentally unstable guy.

[Stay tuned for our next issue, to be published when stuff happens]

Every prose has its thorn (posting challenge: day two)

The S.S. Zaquinas sets out from the harbor of Inspiration, guided along by the strong wind of Motivation. It is a fine day for sailing; the gulls are swooping about in a gullsome manner, and the bright sun of Good Intentions warms the deck. Indeed, the easy sailing continues for quite some time, but the day gradually darkens. Confusion patters against the deck, Doubt cracks in the sky, and the thunderheads of Poor Planning roll in, but the vessel still sails on. Some of the Sentence rigging snaps, and the scurrying crew quickly patches it with Comma splices. These shabby constructions fall apart, and the crew realize in horror that there is not enough Style on board to save the rigging. A howling wind of Disillusionment arises, shearing the Plot mast in half, taking the hastily prepared Theme sails along into the roiling sea. The vessel runs aground on the Rock of Incompletion, and remains there for several weeks.

After some time, the crew begin salvage work, saving what they can from the wreckage. A rickety raft of Compromise coalesces from the shambles of the ship. The crew pack as much of the remaining supplies as possible on the raft, taking extra care to leave room for the paltry Dignity that survived the wreck. Narrowly avoiding jagged Editing reefs, the makeshift vessel finally arrives at the intended destination: the port of Completion. Along the way, they have lost men to neglect and weeks to distraction, but they arrive nevertheless.

With their troublesome journey complete, the crew realize they are one-dimensional puppets in a ham-fisted metaphor and go drinking.

THE END

A growing epidemic (posting challenge: day one)

Across the country, men both young and old are embroiled in a bitter battle with compulsion and indulgence. They slave away at nine-to-fives, eagerly awaiting the moment bells ring, the moment meetings end, the moment minute hands point straight up. Cars start up and the emigration begins. Exhausted laborers and drowsy businessmen head home, save for one quick stop. One by one, they make their purchases, expressions ranging from casual to self-conscious. At home, they ply their common trade in front of televisions and monitors, the walls painted with flickering blues. What compels these men to act this way?

It's Tuesday.

New DVD day.

I own a goodly number of DVDs, but I would say I have not yet approached too many DVDs. I'm sure the owners of those collections would probably say the same thing, though. I've come a long way from that summer in 99 when I bought Aliens and Rush Hour to start the collection and played them on the weak sauce DVD player in my computer. I joined Columbia House a couple times, got a bunch as gifts, and bought the rest at stores. The DVD format seems to have made collectors and film buffs out of people who may never have been interested if VHS still was the leading format.

There's a warped perspective at work in a lot of the mega-collectors. I present for your inspection this dialogue from a message board (unedited for authenticity):

Guy 1: (posts photo of big collection)
Guy 2: Why are most of your dvds unopened? dont you watch them before you buy others
Guy 1: Not everyone does that I would say 60% of my collection is unopened. It is because I want the movie not cause I need something to watch. I have seen a lot of the movies and just haven't watched them again.

Come on, dude.

Anyway, the size of the collection has reached a plateau as I stopped buying DVDs just because and began only buying movies I loved in the theater. There's a little fat to trim off the collection, but mostly I think I'm back under control.

Heaven forbid I walk by a $6 sale rack, though.

A challenge

In recent news, Pete has decided to categorize his blog links by posting frequency. I, of course, have been placed in the "Seldom" category.

I'm going to try to post once a day for the next week, beginning tomorrow. How's that for often?

It's on.

Intriguing

It appears that my comment ceiling is 5.

Usually one or two of those is mine. Dang.

A modest proposal

It would be nice to get some sort of web referrer statistics for blog owners, so we can tell how random visitors get here. It's strange to think that your various brain-droppings can be read by folks who've never even met you.

Maybe I'm thinking of my blog the wrong way, if there is such a possibility. It seems the intent is to cast your thoughts and comments into the aether with complete anonymity (or as much as is desired).

I'm not really prepared to lavish angst and deeply personal matters anonymously, to an equally anonymous community of indifferent ranters. I'll stick with attempting to amuse my friends and my esteemed random visitors.

I don't really have angst anyway.

This post occurs in real time

Man, I loves me some scripted television. I watched a couple seasons of reality shows, but for me it's gotten to the point that it's just the same "watch people be complete asses to each other while they starve/live together/run a business" theme over and over again. I've never found that terribly compelling, so I usually watch shows that take some actual craft to produce, that harness the awesome stallion of drama in a way reality shows cannot.

Here's what I watched this fine television season, along with haiku synopses:

24:

Oh no, terrorists
Hourly cliffhangers drop jaws
Jack Bauer yells; YES!

House:

That guy's really sick
Someone risks the patient's life!
House pops pills and limps

The Shield:

Gritty and brutal
The cops can be bad guys, too
Michael Chiklis rules

Lost:

Plane crash strands forty
Island life and backstories
Something eats people

Arrested Development:

Best comedy on
Bluth family sure is weird
This almost got canned?

Grey's Anatomy:

Unprepared interns
Start careers in medicine
Nicely bittersweet

I may not be cultured enough to read literary classics as my primary form of entertainment/enlightenment, but as long as I can express my love for television through mangled poetry, I can live with that.

One last comment about smell

On the matter of the smell of old books versus new books, I am undecided. There are few aromas as loaded with possibility and nostalgia as the smell of printed words.

Update: Okay, so I'm not undecided. Old books smell better. It's the whole treasure thing again.

If you put it that way...

Now that I think about it, posting about how old men smell probably shouldn't have garnered any comment-love.

I think I weirded out my two readers.

The nuanced aroma of old man

I've found that there's an interesting dichotomy in the way men use cologne and how it relates to their age. Young men wear cologne that tends to resemble radioactive air freshener, as confirmed by the large sample space of said hominids at Illinois. Most of these, of course, were unwillingly sampled due to the sheer offensive quality of Frat Boy Funk.

Older men smell like treasure you find in the attic. I don't know if there's some sort of catalog you get after you turn 50 or if they hand the stuff out or what. I'll be darned if I didn't walk into the bathroom at work this week and (expecting the usual bathroom odors--that's a topic for another day) think that I was going to come across some sweet trunk full of wicked awesome old photos and clothes and stuff. I thought to myself, "there was an old guy in here not too long ago."

As for me, I'll stick with my deodorant, thank you very much.

Please note: this apparently does not apply to women, who smell good all the time.

Serenity

I'll be in my bunk.

Goosebumps.

As many of you know, I am a dedicated consumer of pretty much anything Joss Whedon does. This fact makes me a rather unabashed fan of both Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, which, in due course, leads to much defamation of my character.

I done got slandered.

In 2002, his show Firefly debuted on FOX and, as is FOX custom with most programs displaying uniqueness and potential for greatness, was mishandled and cancelled within 4 months. I, being a stupid-face of massive proportions, didn't even watch it when it was on TV. I have since purchased the entire series on DVD (all 14 episodes of it) and realized the extent of my stupid-facedness. It's fantastic, if a bit incomplete (they couldn't even finish a single season arc). This trailer is for the movie. The movie, man!

"A space western?" you say, "that'll never work."

It works. It works like the dickens.

Watch the trailer. Be goosebumped.

Theory of Blogativity

I have a theory about blogs. My unqualified conjecture is as follows: the consumability and entertainment value of a weblog is inversely related to the blogger's daily stress.

I've decided the reason I have nothing to post about is because I have nothing to post about: no stress = boring blog.

Then again, Pete's blog is consistently amusing, captivating, and honest (plus swears!), and he can lay claim to perhaps the least amount of stress of anyone I know.

I guess we'll see whether my blog gets better when I move into the house next month.

find out what happens when blogs stop being boring and start getting awesome

Happy Birthday!

Happy 21st birthday to my little brother, Nick.

Don't feed him too much alcohol, people!

A Shout-out

I doubt anyone who reads this hasn't already heard them, but my baby brother and Seth are in a band together with some other people who have no blogs (Chris and Jon, get blogging), and they've got some songs for your hearty consumption.

Consume heartily!

Keslinger - Here Today
Keslinger - Say Anything
Keslinger - Mitchell

(Post edited for link validity)

Fact:

This post contains one line of text.

An Important Question

Say "Fudgsicle."

Did you say fudge-ickle? What is wrong with you?

(also, that spelling seems wrong, but trust me, it's been heartily researched)

All I post about is movies

The day I start getting paid for this is the day I write about important stuff.

Still waiting for my lucrative blog deal...

Be Cool...

...was not.

It would perhaps have been more aptly titled Be Average or Be Two Hours Long.

Million Dollar Baby

I know this means a whole pile of nothing after it won all those delicious awards last night, but you should go see this movie. I saw it on Thursday night by myself in the third row of a nearly empty theater and I don't think I would have had it any other way. When I left, I didn't want to talk to anyone about it, and I found myself thinking about it the entire weekend.

Consider yourself warned: I take no responsibility for the emotional shock you're liable to experience for whatever amount of time after seeing this movie (for me: two days).

It's made me think about a lot of interesting questions that I can't even bring up for fear of spoilers. There are enough right-wing "critics" going around spoiling this movie and I don't want to add to the jerk parade.

Guh?

Recently I've been getting spam for Christian this and Christian that. Personals, refinancing, garbage collection; you name it, I've gotten it. Did I do something (commit some mortal sin?) to get added to these spam lists, or do Muslims and Jews get these too? Come to think of it, do they get spam for Muslim personals and Jewish refinancing? They must have teams of prophets working full time to determine which email addresses belong to which religion.

Am I supposed to feel better about being annoyed and potentially ripped off by someone with similar beliefs? It's the same bloody thing, they've just got a cross in their logo.

Nuts to that, man.

Yep.

Nothing to see here. Move along, folks.

this keeps happening...

I only signed up for this danged thing so I could post comments on Jordan's blog, so don't expect anything clever, insightful, or clever. In fact, don't expect any posts other than this one. Okay.