My preoccupation with work-related endeavors -- the end of a busy quarter yesterday coupled with the commencement of a new one (actually, filing period) next week, as well as a series of things needing my attention -- left my apartment in a state of quasi-disarray, although, thanks to my other half, it's still far better than it was three weeks ago. But now that I had some down time, I did some work this AM and delved right into organizing, cleaning and getting food prepped for the coming week.
Before some wise-ass out there dubs me Mr. Mom, keep in mind that it's rainy and bleak here in NYC, my other half is on her way to do a mass baby-visit with her sister and mom at a family friend's house, and there's been nothing good on TV for the past several hours. I need to do a couple other things, like refill the water in the humidors and restring my guitars, but this AM I was kinda hungry so cooking seemed a logical response. The cleaning part just sort of happened naturally, unfortunately or otherwise.
In the meantime, watching CNN, I read about the freaky tale of Jennifer Wilbanks, the 32-year-old Atlanta woman who was due to be married today but instead skipped town after telling her fiance she was going jogging. So instead of preparing for her wedding, she called her family from New Mexico with a new haircut and a story about how she was kidnapped. Never mind the fact that the entire country chose her plight as the "cause du jour," or that hundreds of volunteers, police and friends and family searched for a period of days for her, or that her family and her fiance's family assumed she was dead, or that her fiance was, post-Scott Peterson, on the hook for her suspected murder. While the "official" story is that she experienced cold feet and rode a bus to New Mexico, it seems to me that anyone who would do something like this -- especially so soon after the whole Laci Peterson tragedy -- has some serious issues. I feel badly for her family and her fiance's family, and feel even worse for her fiance. Although, as the saying goes, if she was so out there that this seemed like a logical move for her, he's much better off. In either case, nothing like these weird stories to occupy one's time.
In other news, the fiasco that is, thus far, the Yankees' 2005 season continues. Last night's game might be one of the final nails in the coffin of Joe Torre's tenure as Yankee manager, so each game from here on out might very well have major significance. Incidentally, the Yankees are starting a 25-year-old pitcher from Taiwan, Chien-Ming Wang. Through the first half-inning he didn't allow any runs, and in the bottom of the first, the Yankees have scored already and look to be doing more damage. But if he bites the big one and loses today, he'll forever be known as Chow Mein Wang.
Tomorrow we're heading out to Jersey to spend some time with my grandmother, who heads back to Snowdownia on Tuesday. Nothing more exciting, or important, than just spending time with family, kicking back, recharging and relaxing. And, hopefully, watching the Yankees win a game or two.
Could be worse ;-)
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Friday, April 29, 2005
Quick Update
Today's the last day of the current quarter and next week (therefore) is the start of the new quarter, so I've been running around like a nut trying to handle everything work-wise and get set for next week as well. Aside from the fact it's been beautiful in NYC for the most part, I've been so preoccupied with getting things wrapped up with the City that I've been just going through the motions. However, little things are keeping me sane, or have me, as per usual, questioning others' sanity. For example:
This morning's "QuickVote" at CNN asked: "Do you think arrests or convictions should rule out contestants on American Idol?" Considering CNN is supposed to be (or at least presents itself as) a serious news network, what the hell were they thinking actually asking about something as insignificant and moronic as American Idol? Sorry -- I know some people that enjoy it, and I'm all atitter for them and their enjoyment thereof; I just have no interest in an updated version of The Gong Show, especially in that it a) features Paula Abdul, period; b) features Simon Whatever-His-Name-Is; and c) has sufficient "controversy" to allow its comings and goings to be discussed on CNN. WTF?
I've been continually e-mailing back and forth with my other half's Dad, who is funny, cool and almost as big a Yankee fan as I am. I've already invited him to a game along with my father and I, but since we're lamenting how awful the Yankees look this year -- replete with their first losing record in April, or any month, since 2003 -- none of us are in any hurry to head back to Yankee Stadium just yet. As I told him, once my father's back to 100% then we'll all go watch a game; hopefully that event will coincide with or follow the (ahem) Yankees' 2005 resurgence. What's worse is that Kaia's sister also lives in Marin County and is married to a die-hard (baseball) Giants fan, so I can envision lots of "discussion" about the current state of baseball. They'll suggest the Yankees buy pennants, and I'll suggest that if everyone on the Giants' roster went to Barry Bonds personal steroid supplier, the Giants as a team could, combined, hit 12,000 home runs a season, although no one would know what to call the Giants' stadium because it would continue being renamed on a per-game basis. I'm getting more and more excited about heading out there, especially with a Yankee hat, Yankee DVDs for her Dad and her nephew, and the pamphlet entitled "The History of the San Francisco Giants."
In other news...I've been googling around for a few upcoming concerts in NYC, what with Robert Plant, Audioslave and some other worthwhile artists hitting the City sometime over the next few months, and since we're trying to coordinate my time in SF and Kaia coming here, I'm trying to work it out so I'm in town for concerts I'm considering attending, as is she (assuming she wants to come with) and that I'm out there for some shows as well. I saw something about Cake playing shows somewhat near San Fran (I map-quested it) but I'm not sure if it's actually going to happen because some of their shows haven't yet been announced. So neither of us is really too worried about the timing, and we're just tossing around dates and trying to free up/align our schedules to maximize the summer and our time together. And the Yankees are in Cali. in mid-May, when I'm planning on being out there...coincidence? ;-)
This morning's "QuickVote" at CNN asked: "Do you think arrests or convictions should rule out contestants on American Idol?" Considering CNN is supposed to be (or at least presents itself as) a serious news network, what the hell were they thinking actually asking about something as insignificant and moronic as American Idol? Sorry -- I know some people that enjoy it, and I'm all atitter for them and their enjoyment thereof; I just have no interest in an updated version of The Gong Show, especially in that it a) features Paula Abdul, period; b) features Simon Whatever-His-Name-Is; and c) has sufficient "controversy" to allow its comings and goings to be discussed on CNN. WTF?
I've been continually e-mailing back and forth with my other half's Dad, who is funny, cool and almost as big a Yankee fan as I am. I've already invited him to a game along with my father and I, but since we're lamenting how awful the Yankees look this year -- replete with their first losing record in April, or any month, since 2003 -- none of us are in any hurry to head back to Yankee Stadium just yet. As I told him, once my father's back to 100% then we'll all go watch a game; hopefully that event will coincide with or follow the (ahem) Yankees' 2005 resurgence. What's worse is that Kaia's sister also lives in Marin County and is married to a die-hard (baseball) Giants fan, so I can envision lots of "discussion" about the current state of baseball. They'll suggest the Yankees buy pennants, and I'll suggest that if everyone on the Giants' roster went to Barry Bonds personal steroid supplier, the Giants as a team could, combined, hit 12,000 home runs a season, although no one would know what to call the Giants' stadium because it would continue being renamed on a per-game basis. I'm getting more and more excited about heading out there, especially with a Yankee hat, Yankee DVDs for her Dad and her nephew, and the pamphlet entitled "The History of the San Francisco Giants."
In other news...I've been googling around for a few upcoming concerts in NYC, what with Robert Plant, Audioslave and some other worthwhile artists hitting the City sometime over the next few months, and since we're trying to coordinate my time in SF and Kaia coming here, I'm trying to work it out so I'm in town for concerts I'm considering attending, as is she (assuming she wants to come with) and that I'm out there for some shows as well. I saw something about Cake playing shows somewhat near San Fran (I map-quested it) but I'm not sure if it's actually going to happen because some of their shows haven't yet been announced. So neither of us is really too worried about the timing, and we're just tossing around dates and trying to free up/align our schedules to maximize the summer and our time together. And the Yankees are in Cali. in mid-May, when I'm planning on being out there...coincidence? ;-)
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
The First Amendment, Part 9.11
Peruse the Internet and you're bound to encounter any and all variety of unique, repulsive, weird, freaky tibits of humanity. And that's just at MarthaStewart.com.
On a more serious note, there are a variety of disturbing trends born from Internet life, including, but not limited to: fake nudes, beastiality and kiddie porn, other bizarre sexual practices, lists of the most inconsequential bullshit ever assembled (try searching for how many women Captain Kirk nailed on Star Trek or The Ladder Theory or caffeinated snack beverages manufactured in Wyoming). In short, we have invited the Internet into our lives and have therefore begrudgingly accepted the benefits along with the many negatives a blank slate of human perversity offers.
My rationale for invoking the ills/benefits of the Internet as part of our daily lives is a result of my personal attempt to exercise my freedom of thought and speech, not merely in these pages but in noting the presence of a news article at CNN involving a cleric who, less than a week after 9/11, was arrested for inciting and encouraging young muslim men to travel to Afghanistan to fight the US and its interests. My reaction was that this news was not very newsworthy on its surface; the twist is that this particular muslim is a prominent cleric in the state of Washington. The article, located here, gives some details as to how many of his "followers" sought training on foreign soil, how they fared in obtaining said training, and some mumbo-jumbo from attorneys on both sides.
Why would someone so decidedly anti-US be living here? Aside from terrorists belonging to sleeper cells, why would a foreigner come to the US to plot against said nation?
My initial reaction was that Ali al-Timimi, the cleric in question, wanted to recruit US-based muslims knowing the converts could eventually return to the US in order to (eventually) do damage to the US from the inside. In other words, putting myself in Mr. al-Timimi’s position, if the US’s immigration policies were either so poorly erected or so poorly enforced that virulent, anti-US foreigners like al-Timimi were welcomed to these shores with open arms, then why not go right to the source – the people (ie muslims) of the US and spread the gospel, so to speak.
The other, more significant question that needs to be asked is: how much protection does the First Amendment provide to those who use its Constitutional protection in order to destroy the nation and everything that the Constitution represents? And more importantly, why should a foreigner advocating the overthrow and/or destruction of the US be permitted to remain in this nation?
Before I even attempt an answer to any of these questions, the crux of the article was that Mr. al-Timimi was arrested for attempting to recruit his followers to perpetrate anti-US activities, ie receive terrorist training in Afghanistan and in neighboring countries. To me, this seems a bit of a gray area; eg the Federal Government could arrest someone who tries to assemble a group of federal employees to work together to get better wages and benefits from the government. While it doesn’t equate to terrorism, it’s a group of people working together against the government, albeit to a much less dangerous extent.
And where’s the limit? al-Timimi was calling for anti-US Jihad, but if I stand in a local park, or even on a public street in Manhattan, and tell people that George Bush is insane and should be ridiculed publicly anytime he appears anywhere, would or could – or should – I be arrested for encouraging others to act in a way that is not in the government’s interests?
Personally, I think this case highlights the fact that we need to address our immigration policies immediately; for this to be occurring on US soil shows that someone’s asleep at the wheel. And we also need to revisit how the First Amendment protects those intent on destroying it. I can’t envision the forefathers, in literal or interpretative view, acceding to this cleric’s corruption of America’s freedoms to perpetrate anti-American activities, whether here or elsewhere.
Obviously, however, with the 9/11 hijackers and presumably a small collection of existing “sleeper cells” located within the US as of this writing, because we’ve allowed these people to enter into and take refuge within the US, we as a nation offer protection to those who want to destroy this nation. Paradoxical at best, disturbing and distressing at the very worst.
And if this man’s belief-based hatred of the country he calls home is illegal, what would happen if another person aimed a 9mm pistol at al-Timimi’s hate-filled head and emptied it? Would the US then take action against a US citizen for murdering a person actively engaged in what would be considered treason if Mr. al-Timimi was a citizen?
Obviously these questions need to be addressed and resolved quickly. And knowing the speed at which the government operates, “quickly” is both a subjective and humorous euphemism. It’s obviously an unfortunate occurrence when the laws and freedoms are in place but the protection of the system and its borders are not.
And while I fully support the first amendment in all its guises, I would not shed a tear if Mr. al-Timimi’s rights were violated with his death, deportation, or life imprisonment. It just seems fairly obvious to me that anyone perpetrating anti-US recruitment on US soil forfeits the rights and protections granted by living in this country. And frankly, I would be disappointed if Mr. al-Timimi was merely deported or imprisoned. But it suggests to me that in the coming years, we as a nation need to deal with our enemies, both domestic and foreign, not with Minutemen volunteers bearing t-shirts and digital cameras, not with rhetoric and careful consideration of the rights of those who violate the Constitution of the United States, but with lead, steel and fire, the same tools with which they intend to deal with us. As Sean Connery’s character, Jimmy Malone, quipped in The Untouchables, “He pulls a knife, you pull a gun.” Answering evil, destruction and bile with rhetoric, law and procedure is showing weakness, and – in my opinion – this nation is too great and has stood by for too long to be showing weakness.
Further, if the enemies of America want to turn US soil into a battleground, then it seems to me it is about time we, as a nation, accepted the challenge and let them know we intend to meet their actions with some of our own. Action, not inaction, bring forth resolution; inaction brings forth more incidents like 9/11.
And I think one 9/11 is one more than we need endure.
On a more serious note, there are a variety of disturbing trends born from Internet life, including, but not limited to: fake nudes, beastiality and kiddie porn, other bizarre sexual practices, lists of the most inconsequential bullshit ever assembled (try searching for how many women Captain Kirk nailed on Star Trek or The Ladder Theory or caffeinated snack beverages manufactured in Wyoming). In short, we have invited the Internet into our lives and have therefore begrudgingly accepted the benefits along with the many negatives a blank slate of human perversity offers.
My rationale for invoking the ills/benefits of the Internet as part of our daily lives is a result of my personal attempt to exercise my freedom of thought and speech, not merely in these pages but in noting the presence of a news article at CNN involving a cleric who, less than a week after 9/11, was arrested for inciting and encouraging young muslim men to travel to Afghanistan to fight the US and its interests. My reaction was that this news was not very newsworthy on its surface; the twist is that this particular muslim is a prominent cleric in the state of Washington. The article, located here, gives some details as to how many of his "followers" sought training on foreign soil, how they fared in obtaining said training, and some mumbo-jumbo from attorneys on both sides.
Why would someone so decidedly anti-US be living here? Aside from terrorists belonging to sleeper cells, why would a foreigner come to the US to plot against said nation?
My initial reaction was that Ali al-Timimi, the cleric in question, wanted to recruit US-based muslims knowing the converts could eventually return to the US in order to (eventually) do damage to the US from the inside. In other words, putting myself in Mr. al-Timimi’s position, if the US’s immigration policies were either so poorly erected or so poorly enforced that virulent, anti-US foreigners like al-Timimi were welcomed to these shores with open arms, then why not go right to the source – the people (ie muslims) of the US and spread the gospel, so to speak.
The other, more significant question that needs to be asked is: how much protection does the First Amendment provide to those who use its Constitutional protection in order to destroy the nation and everything that the Constitution represents? And more importantly, why should a foreigner advocating the overthrow and/or destruction of the US be permitted to remain in this nation?
Before I even attempt an answer to any of these questions, the crux of the article was that Mr. al-Timimi was arrested for attempting to recruit his followers to perpetrate anti-US activities, ie receive terrorist training in Afghanistan and in neighboring countries. To me, this seems a bit of a gray area; eg the Federal Government could arrest someone who tries to assemble a group of federal employees to work together to get better wages and benefits from the government. While it doesn’t equate to terrorism, it’s a group of people working together against the government, albeit to a much less dangerous extent.
And where’s the limit? al-Timimi was calling for anti-US Jihad, but if I stand in a local park, or even on a public street in Manhattan, and tell people that George Bush is insane and should be ridiculed publicly anytime he appears anywhere, would or could – or should – I be arrested for encouraging others to act in a way that is not in the government’s interests?
Personally, I think this case highlights the fact that we need to address our immigration policies immediately; for this to be occurring on US soil shows that someone’s asleep at the wheel. And we also need to revisit how the First Amendment protects those intent on destroying it. I can’t envision the forefathers, in literal or interpretative view, acceding to this cleric’s corruption of America’s freedoms to perpetrate anti-American activities, whether here or elsewhere.
Obviously, however, with the 9/11 hijackers and presumably a small collection of existing “sleeper cells” located within the US as of this writing, because we’ve allowed these people to enter into and take refuge within the US, we as a nation offer protection to those who want to destroy this nation. Paradoxical at best, disturbing and distressing at the very worst.
And if this man’s belief-based hatred of the country he calls home is illegal, what would happen if another person aimed a 9mm pistol at al-Timimi’s hate-filled head and emptied it? Would the US then take action against a US citizen for murdering a person actively engaged in what would be considered treason if Mr. al-Timimi was a citizen?
Obviously these questions need to be addressed and resolved quickly. And knowing the speed at which the government operates, “quickly” is both a subjective and humorous euphemism. It’s obviously an unfortunate occurrence when the laws and freedoms are in place but the protection of the system and its borders are not.
And while I fully support the first amendment in all its guises, I would not shed a tear if Mr. al-Timimi’s rights were violated with his death, deportation, or life imprisonment. It just seems fairly obvious to me that anyone perpetrating anti-US recruitment on US soil forfeits the rights and protections granted by living in this country. And frankly, I would be disappointed if Mr. al-Timimi was merely deported or imprisoned. But it suggests to me that in the coming years, we as a nation need to deal with our enemies, both domestic and foreign, not with Minutemen volunteers bearing t-shirts and digital cameras, not with rhetoric and careful consideration of the rights of those who violate the Constitution of the United States, but with lead, steel and fire, the same tools with which they intend to deal with us. As Sean Connery’s character, Jimmy Malone, quipped in The Untouchables, “He pulls a knife, you pull a gun.” Answering evil, destruction and bile with rhetoric, law and procedure is showing weakness, and – in my opinion – this nation is too great and has stood by for too long to be showing weakness.
Further, if the enemies of America want to turn US soil into a battleground, then it seems to me it is about time we, as a nation, accepted the challenge and let them know we intend to meet their actions with some of our own. Action, not inaction, bring forth resolution; inaction brings forth more incidents like 9/11.
And I think one 9/11 is one more than we need endure.
The Sun Also Rises: I'm Living Proof
As my other half and I conspired and planned our next venture, measuring location, schedule and duration and the ancillary details (when her parents will be around, away and/or otherwise indisposed) we were poring over possible dates, weekends, work schedules and planned appointments with real estate brokers so she could take a peek at some apartments around the City.
While that was a-happnin', her dad sent me an e-mail as a thank-you for a DVD I'd gotten for he and his wife, a DVD she said they would love. So as we were going back and forth talking Yankees baseball (oy), Christopher Walken, Broadway and the state of the City, I am almost giddy looking forward to meeting her parents. Not sure if it will be mid-May, the end of May (Memorial Day) or sometime over the summer, but it's coming up on the horizon. Adding to that, my other half called me early this AM because she was having trouble sleeping. Hearing my cell phone blaring away in the distance -- "What I Like About You" being the ringtone indicating she was calling me from home -- I grabbed the cell, surprised, excited and a little worried. Everything was fine, she said; she just couldn't sleep and wanted to hear my voice. Figuring I was asleep (it was a little before 6AM here), she was as surprised as I when I picked up.
She called the cell, she explained, because my home line was busy. Apparently I forgot to hang up the phone when I dozed off whilst on the phone with her last night, so I called her back from my home phone and we talked for a half hour or so until we both got sleepy and we said our goodnights again.
As forced and unfair and detached it sometimes feels, spending so much time with someone so far away, it was nice; it felt like we were whispering under the same covers, in the same dark room, sharing warmth and her perfume still lingering on my sheets. So I kept my eyes closed and it felt almost like she was there with me; I knew, rationally, that she wasn't right next to me in bed, but having the memory of her being her so fresh in my mind and my heart helped quiet my mind telling me she was at the other end of 3,000 miles of fiber-optic cable.
If there ever is a nice way to start your day by waking up alone, especially when you're in love, it's being woken by the voice of someone you can't live without. On top of that, a friend who'd gone through some very difficult times of his own, very similar to those I personally endured this past year, got some very good news, and it reminded me that there is light at the end of the tunnel.
In contrast, I remembered I had wanted to call a friend of mine who'd gotten some bad news from a doctor last week, and I felt badly because I fell asleep before I had a chance to place the call last night. But as I explained to said friend yesterday when we were first discussing the situation, everything does work out for the best, even when the news seems as dark and awful as it can get. It's sometimes hard to put things in proper perspective and see the big picture, especially when the details are far from positive and optimistic and when one is in the moment, but sometimes seeing the big picture and knowing the sun also rises not only helps one face the dark days, but enables us to live through the experience(s) and come out better, stronger and wiser. And any time anyone relates bad news, the one thing that comforts me -- and should comfort anyone reading this -- is that things do have a way of working out much better than one could ever have imagined while enduring the darkness.
Like the t-shirt says: I'm living proof.
While that was a-happnin', her dad sent me an e-mail as a thank-you for a DVD I'd gotten for he and his wife, a DVD she said they would love. So as we were going back and forth talking Yankees baseball (oy), Christopher Walken, Broadway and the state of the City, I am almost giddy looking forward to meeting her parents. Not sure if it will be mid-May, the end of May (Memorial Day) or sometime over the summer, but it's coming up on the horizon. Adding to that, my other half called me early this AM because she was having trouble sleeping. Hearing my cell phone blaring away in the distance -- "What I Like About You" being the ringtone indicating she was calling me from home -- I grabbed the cell, surprised, excited and a little worried. Everything was fine, she said; she just couldn't sleep and wanted to hear my voice. Figuring I was asleep (it was a little before 6AM here), she was as surprised as I when I picked up.
She called the cell, she explained, because my home line was busy. Apparently I forgot to hang up the phone when I dozed off whilst on the phone with her last night, so I called her back from my home phone and we talked for a half hour or so until we both got sleepy and we said our goodnights again.
As forced and unfair and detached it sometimes feels, spending so much time with someone so far away, it was nice; it felt like we were whispering under the same covers, in the same dark room, sharing warmth and her perfume still lingering on my sheets. So I kept my eyes closed and it felt almost like she was there with me; I knew, rationally, that she wasn't right next to me in bed, but having the memory of her being her so fresh in my mind and my heart helped quiet my mind telling me she was at the other end of 3,000 miles of fiber-optic cable.
If there ever is a nice way to start your day by waking up alone, especially when you're in love, it's being woken by the voice of someone you can't live without. On top of that, a friend who'd gone through some very difficult times of his own, very similar to those I personally endured this past year, got some very good news, and it reminded me that there is light at the end of the tunnel.
In contrast, I remembered I had wanted to call a friend of mine who'd gotten some bad news from a doctor last week, and I felt badly because I fell asleep before I had a chance to place the call last night. But as I explained to said friend yesterday when we were first discussing the situation, everything does work out for the best, even when the news seems as dark and awful as it can get. It's sometimes hard to put things in proper perspective and see the big picture, especially when the details are far from positive and optimistic and when one is in the moment, but sometimes seeing the big picture and knowing the sun also rises not only helps one face the dark days, but enables us to live through the experience(s) and come out better, stronger and wiser. And any time anyone relates bad news, the one thing that comforts me -- and should comfort anyone reading this -- is that things do have a way of working out much better than one could ever have imagined while enduring the darkness.
Like the t-shirt says: I'm living proof.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Outside Looking In
First off, for those of you celebrating Passover, please accept a happy fargin' Passover to you and your family. To those of you who stopped by expecting some sort of Passover shout-out prior to tonight, my apologies...I wound up heading to Jersey to celebrate with the family on a swapped schedule and didn't get a chance to stop by until now, and since I just came in from being away for the majority of the weekend, quit yer bitchin' and have some damn matzah.
Second, it was bad timing for the other half and I to get together the week prior to Passover, knowing she'd eventually be going back to San Fran so we'd be in different time zones when the matzah hit the table. While I enjoyed celebrating with my family, including my father and my grandmother, not having her there was difficult and I really felt her absence. We enjoyed both seders, and I know she enjoyed spending the holiday with her family, both immediate and extended, but I think it's fairly safe to suggest we both sensed something missing, and no matter how great everything was, at least on my end, her not being with me was definitely a situation which I expect to remedy well before next year's matzah-fest.
In the mean time, a word to the wise for those of you who don't celebrate Passover: it's a fun holiday in that part of the pre-dinner ceremony involves four cups of wine, so by dessert, pretty much everyone in the house is shitfaced. A few years ago my grandmother was pretty well-oiled, and while she hasn't hit the sauce (aka Manischevitz) with as much gusto as of late, it's wild seeing a whole table-full of hebes coming off as a bunch of rejects of an alcoholics anonymous group. Combine some gefilte fish and some matzah and some brisket and you're one frame short of a Coen Brothers movie.
In the meantime, the weekend went well, as I did enjoy spending some downtime with the family. Each time we all get together to celebrate a holiday it reminds us that being together -- ie having my father with us to celebrate -- that alone is something worthy of celebration. Inasmuch as he's still not 100%, it's a somewhat painful, bittersweet reminder that these special days are meant to be cherished, and it's a lesson I am glad I learned and, simultaneously, one I wished I never had to learn. In essence, every time I think there's something about which I need to worry or complain, I remember there are things for which I am thankful and I'm instantly given perspective on most situations. Jarring, significant and quite humbling.
In other news, a friend called to wish the family a happy passover from Bangkok, so while I won't be calling him back until he's stateside, this marks several straight holidays in which someone from another continent has called to check in. One of these days the other half and I are going to head out to another world, be it Bangkok, Costa Rica, Honduras or Atlantic City, but until we do, it's nice to know people out there are thinking good things no matter the geographic distance.
On the other hand, I think every box of matzah should come with a coupon for a 12-tablet package of Immodium.
Just a thought.
Oh, and if I didn't mention beforehand, Stevie Wonder was at our first seder. He sat next to me, and when I passed him a piece of matzah, he rubbed his hand all over it and leaned over to me and said "That was the worst letter I ever read."
Happy fargin' Passover.
Second, it was bad timing for the other half and I to get together the week prior to Passover, knowing she'd eventually be going back to San Fran so we'd be in different time zones when the matzah hit the table. While I enjoyed celebrating with my family, including my father and my grandmother, not having her there was difficult and I really felt her absence. We enjoyed both seders, and I know she enjoyed spending the holiday with her family, both immediate and extended, but I think it's fairly safe to suggest we both sensed something missing, and no matter how great everything was, at least on my end, her not being with me was definitely a situation which I expect to remedy well before next year's matzah-fest.
In the mean time, a word to the wise for those of you who don't celebrate Passover: it's a fun holiday in that part of the pre-dinner ceremony involves four cups of wine, so by dessert, pretty much everyone in the house is shitfaced. A few years ago my grandmother was pretty well-oiled, and while she hasn't hit the sauce (aka Manischevitz) with as much gusto as of late, it's wild seeing a whole table-full of hebes coming off as a bunch of rejects of an alcoholics anonymous group. Combine some gefilte fish and some matzah and some brisket and you're one frame short of a Coen Brothers movie.
In the meantime, the weekend went well, as I did enjoy spending some downtime with the family. Each time we all get together to celebrate a holiday it reminds us that being together -- ie having my father with us to celebrate -- that alone is something worthy of celebration. Inasmuch as he's still not 100%, it's a somewhat painful, bittersweet reminder that these special days are meant to be cherished, and it's a lesson I am glad I learned and, simultaneously, one I wished I never had to learn. In essence, every time I think there's something about which I need to worry or complain, I remember there are things for which I am thankful and I'm instantly given perspective on most situations. Jarring, significant and quite humbling.
In other news, a friend called to wish the family a happy passover from Bangkok, so while I won't be calling him back until he's stateside, this marks several straight holidays in which someone from another continent has called to check in. One of these days the other half and I are going to head out to another world, be it Bangkok, Costa Rica, Honduras or Atlantic City, but until we do, it's nice to know people out there are thinking good things no matter the geographic distance.
On the other hand, I think every box of matzah should come with a coupon for a 12-tablet package of Immodium.
Just a thought.
Oh, and if I didn't mention beforehand, Stevie Wonder was at our first seder. He sat next to me, and when I passed him a piece of matzah, he rubbed his hand all over it and leaned over to me and said "That was the worst letter I ever read."
Happy fargin' Passover.
Friday, April 22, 2005
A Weird Ride on "Mulholland Drive"
With our schedules somewhat out-of-sync, being that Friday was, in part, a running around day for me, and a non-office work day for Kaia, I settled in to watch the remainder of David Lynch's 2001 film "Mulholland Drive" while Kaia napped. While I preferred the situation involving my private viewing of the film -- ie, a week ago with Kaia in bed -- I opted to watch it despite knowing I'd be left scratching my head and wondering if the experience was worth the time.
In answering that head-scratching question regarding whether the film was a waste of my time, I can emphatically state it wasn't. It was actually pretty solid. But it's not a one-time through empty-headed exercise in disturbing imagery, gore and/or violence. It's more like a novel or a similar work of art that requires investment, repeated viewings and a willingness to explore the myriad symbols, twists, images and auditory environment put forth by one of the most talented, enigmatic and weird filmmakers of the modern era.
Incidentally, I plan on doing some brief but revealing exposition herein, so if you haven't seen the film and plan on (or might consider) doing so, skip the remainder of this entry. But keep it bookmarked, as it's pretty likely you'll want a good explanation for what this film's anachronistic double entendres, twists and contradictions actually mean in the real world.
There...now that we've gotten that out of the way...the film, essentially, begins both setting-wise and metaphorically with Mulholland Drive, which -- for those of us not from California and not in the movie business -- is an ideal example of the duality of Hollywood. Mulholland Drive, by day, offers pretty, scenic views, fun and engaging curves, and its landmark status is well-known outside the state in which it exists. By night, however, Mulholland Drive is treacherous beauty, in that it's dangerous to navigate, but offers spectacular views of Los Angeles below. It's glitz and glamour and shine and beauty, but it offers treachery, danger, mystery and a foreboding warning to those who overlook its penchant for evil and only admire its beauty.
If that cavalcade of metaphors, cliches and contrasts didn't throw you, then continue on -- but be warned, by the end of this post you might wish you had been equipped with a barf-bag.
In short, as with all other David Lynch films, "Mulholland Drive" offers up a variety of out-of-sequence plot twists, symbolism both subtle and overt, cinematography that is sweeping and memorable, and characters and dialogue that too is memorable. Essentially, this film, on its surface, is a noir murder mystery of sorts, although the mystery commences during the first frames of the film, well before any murder actually takes place.
Keep in mind, incidentally, that the cast of this film involves a variety of high-profile (and all very talented) actors, yet I have specifically omitted their names from this post thus far. That says a lot about the film's core, which is its story. But in case the participants in this exercise in confusion and statement are significant, there's a veritable who's who: Naomi Watts, Laura Elena Harring, Robert Forster, Dan Hedaya, Justin Theroux, a cameo from Billy Ray Cyrus, and a solid supporting grouping which includes old-time actress Ann Miller and some other "hidden" gems. But as we are advised later in the film, everything is an illusion and nothing is what it seems. So true.
At this point, a brief run-down of the plot should suffice: Naomi Watts plays Betty, an optimistic, fresh-faced Canadian who comes to LA while her aunt is away in Canada filming a picture. She's going to audition and she's incredibly happy, naive and excited. She arrives at LAX and bids goodbye to an older couple who one could easily mistake for her grandparents, and from that moment forth, her curiosity, innocence and honesty pervade every scene she's in. There begins a trio of sub-plots, one of which involves a studio (and, purportedly, the mafia) leaning on an up-and-coming director to cast an actress named Camilla in his next picture, the existence of a hitman, and, most notably, the sudden appearance of a beautiful brunette who has survived an attempt on her life in the back of a limo by an equally near-fatal car accident. The hit attempt, as well as the car accident, occur on -- you guessed it -- Mulholland Drive. And she dizzily walks to the nearby apartment complex in which Betty is staying while her aunt is away on location. The hit/accident survivor discovers she has amnesia. Later in the film, she and Betty become lovers in several highly-charged, near-erotic interludes that are tasteful but extremely powerful.
And that's about the first thirty minutes of this 150-minute movie.
Essentially, the film is not so much a series of scenes derived and designed to reveal and move the plot, but rather a series of scenes which include symbolism, notable nuances, and a selection of carefully-placed, -worded and -scripted interactions which are of significance later in the film. This is a multiple-view film in that there's no way to absorb, understand or process what transpires over the course of a single viewing of the film. Much of Lynch's work predicates itself on shock value, and this film offers up a large dose thereof, not only visually, but in its soundtrack and its sound effects as well.
My take on the film, for the most part, is this: Lynch's point in telling the story is to show Hollywood's dual nature. It's beauty, glamour and shiny "tinsel" at odds with the nefarious, dark, macabre underbelly that supports or belies it. With the red carpet and the gowns and the jewelry come evil, inhumanity, cattiness, disingenuous personalities and plastic characters. As Betty, the young ingenue, Naomi Watts is incredible -- she pulls off her role as a naive, fresh-off-the-boat young woman with ultra-believable aplomb. And as Diane, in the dual (or secondary -- or primary) role, she is frighteningly believable as a jaded, washed-up, desperate, pathetic shell of Betty's alter-ego. Every actor in this film pulls of his or her character(s) perfectly; there's no real weak link in that the majority of the performances are of a calibre worthy of the Coen Brothers, Quentin Tarantino and Wes Anderson. The main issue that keeps one from being comfortable with the film is the story itself.
Lynch tells the story out-of-sync, much like Tarantino's Pulp Fiction and Christopher Nolan's Memento, which, once that is made clear, allows the viewer to somewhat latch onto the stilted, disjointed and downright weird imagery presented herein. The film's tagline is "A Love Story In The City Of Dreams" -- and the noir description almost misses because the film is directed as a noir, but its true patina is one of a young ingenue who comes to Hollywood optimistic, fresh and eager to be a "star, or known as a great actor, or both" but who ultimately is washed up, passed over, chewed up, eschewed by her lover (another woman) and who winds up having her former girlfriend killed before killing herself. In other words, as Lynch is wont to do, the film heaps multi-layer upon multi-layer, and by the time the credits are rolling it's hard to tell which layer preceded the prior one.
All in all, armed with a sensibility and some foreknowledge, this is a wonderful movie. It's not for the faint of heart, but it's almost a dreamlike experience -- hence why I fell asleep both times I began watching it -- but aside from a few lulls, it heats up from the very start and gets hotter and hotter and never looks back.
The DVD, incidentally, is clean, offers a stunning 5.1 mix, and should be purchased rather than rented simply to facilitate a few viewings. The auditory mood is unsettling, the thrills and the tension are palpable, and the plot -- or the corkscrewed smattering of scenes that substitute for same herein -- are worth the time and investment one needs to make in something that will likely be a keeper.
In answering that head-scratching question regarding whether the film was a waste of my time, I can emphatically state it wasn't. It was actually pretty solid. But it's not a one-time through empty-headed exercise in disturbing imagery, gore and/or violence. It's more like a novel or a similar work of art that requires investment, repeated viewings and a willingness to explore the myriad symbols, twists, images and auditory environment put forth by one of the most talented, enigmatic and weird filmmakers of the modern era.
Incidentally, I plan on doing some brief but revealing exposition herein, so if you haven't seen the film and plan on (or might consider) doing so, skip the remainder of this entry. But keep it bookmarked, as it's pretty likely you'll want a good explanation for what this film's anachronistic double entendres, twists and contradictions actually mean in the real world.
There...now that we've gotten that out of the way...the film, essentially, begins both setting-wise and metaphorically with Mulholland Drive, which -- for those of us not from California and not in the movie business -- is an ideal example of the duality of Hollywood. Mulholland Drive, by day, offers pretty, scenic views, fun and engaging curves, and its landmark status is well-known outside the state in which it exists. By night, however, Mulholland Drive is treacherous beauty, in that it's dangerous to navigate, but offers spectacular views of Los Angeles below. It's glitz and glamour and shine and beauty, but it offers treachery, danger, mystery and a foreboding warning to those who overlook its penchant for evil and only admire its beauty.
If that cavalcade of metaphors, cliches and contrasts didn't throw you, then continue on -- but be warned, by the end of this post you might wish you had been equipped with a barf-bag.
In short, as with all other David Lynch films, "Mulholland Drive" offers up a variety of out-of-sequence plot twists, symbolism both subtle and overt, cinematography that is sweeping and memorable, and characters and dialogue that too is memorable. Essentially, this film, on its surface, is a noir murder mystery of sorts, although the mystery commences during the first frames of the film, well before any murder actually takes place.
Keep in mind, incidentally, that the cast of this film involves a variety of high-profile (and all very talented) actors, yet I have specifically omitted their names from this post thus far. That says a lot about the film's core, which is its story. But in case the participants in this exercise in confusion and statement are significant, there's a veritable who's who: Naomi Watts, Laura Elena Harring, Robert Forster, Dan Hedaya, Justin Theroux, a cameo from Billy Ray Cyrus, and a solid supporting grouping which includes old-time actress Ann Miller and some other "hidden" gems. But as we are advised later in the film, everything is an illusion and nothing is what it seems. So true.
At this point, a brief run-down of the plot should suffice: Naomi Watts plays Betty, an optimistic, fresh-faced Canadian who comes to LA while her aunt is away in Canada filming a picture. She's going to audition and she's incredibly happy, naive and excited. She arrives at LAX and bids goodbye to an older couple who one could easily mistake for her grandparents, and from that moment forth, her curiosity, innocence and honesty pervade every scene she's in. There begins a trio of sub-plots, one of which involves a studio (and, purportedly, the mafia) leaning on an up-and-coming director to cast an actress named Camilla in his next picture, the existence of a hitman, and, most notably, the sudden appearance of a beautiful brunette who has survived an attempt on her life in the back of a limo by an equally near-fatal car accident. The hit attempt, as well as the car accident, occur on -- you guessed it -- Mulholland Drive. And she dizzily walks to the nearby apartment complex in which Betty is staying while her aunt is away on location. The hit/accident survivor discovers she has amnesia. Later in the film, she and Betty become lovers in several highly-charged, near-erotic interludes that are tasteful but extremely powerful.
And that's about the first thirty minutes of this 150-minute movie.
Essentially, the film is not so much a series of scenes derived and designed to reveal and move the plot, but rather a series of scenes which include symbolism, notable nuances, and a selection of carefully-placed, -worded and -scripted interactions which are of significance later in the film. This is a multiple-view film in that there's no way to absorb, understand or process what transpires over the course of a single viewing of the film. Much of Lynch's work predicates itself on shock value, and this film offers up a large dose thereof, not only visually, but in its soundtrack and its sound effects as well.
My take on the film, for the most part, is this: Lynch's point in telling the story is to show Hollywood's dual nature. It's beauty, glamour and shiny "tinsel" at odds with the nefarious, dark, macabre underbelly that supports or belies it. With the red carpet and the gowns and the jewelry come evil, inhumanity, cattiness, disingenuous personalities and plastic characters. As Betty, the young ingenue, Naomi Watts is incredible -- she pulls off her role as a naive, fresh-off-the-boat young woman with ultra-believable aplomb. And as Diane, in the dual (or secondary -- or primary) role, she is frighteningly believable as a jaded, washed-up, desperate, pathetic shell of Betty's alter-ego. Every actor in this film pulls of his or her character(s) perfectly; there's no real weak link in that the majority of the performances are of a calibre worthy of the Coen Brothers, Quentin Tarantino and Wes Anderson. The main issue that keeps one from being comfortable with the film is the story itself.
Lynch tells the story out-of-sync, much like Tarantino's Pulp Fiction and Christopher Nolan's Memento, which, once that is made clear, allows the viewer to somewhat latch onto the stilted, disjointed and downright weird imagery presented herein. The film's tagline is "A Love Story In The City Of Dreams" -- and the noir description almost misses because the film is directed as a noir, but its true patina is one of a young ingenue who comes to Hollywood optimistic, fresh and eager to be a "star, or known as a great actor, or both" but who ultimately is washed up, passed over, chewed up, eschewed by her lover (another woman) and who winds up having her former girlfriend killed before killing herself. In other words, as Lynch is wont to do, the film heaps multi-layer upon multi-layer, and by the time the credits are rolling it's hard to tell which layer preceded the prior one.
All in all, armed with a sensibility and some foreknowledge, this is a wonderful movie. It's not for the faint of heart, but it's almost a dreamlike experience -- hence why I fell asleep both times I began watching it -- but aside from a few lulls, it heats up from the very start and gets hotter and hotter and never looks back.
The DVD, incidentally, is clean, offers a stunning 5.1 mix, and should be purchased rather than rented simply to facilitate a few viewings. The auditory mood is unsettling, the thrills and the tension are palpable, and the plot -- or the corkscrewed smattering of scenes that substitute for same herein -- are worth the time and investment one needs to make in something that will likely be a keeper.
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