Into the Badlands

...but now I see

2009-09-03T08:06:00.002-06:00

I was sitting in a coffee shop in downtown Anchorage, killing time and playing on the 'net. I had been there for several hours on account that I had almost 12 to slaughter. Anyway, it was the kind of place that locked their restrooms to prevent non customers from wandering in and relieving themselves; the key was tied to an espresso filter and left laying on the counter. All this was explained in a sign on the bathroom door

A blind man comes into the shop, wagging about his cane. He goes over to the restroom-- I think nothing of it. About ten minutes later, I too needed to use the facilities. I get the key, head to the restroom, and find the blind man and his cane patiently waiting outside, apparently under the impression the lavatory was occupied-- clearly, he was unable to read the sign.

Overcome with a sense of awkwardness, I returned the key to the counter and fled into the gray Alaskan afternoon.

It occurred to me that this might have made me a terrible person. Karma confirmed this.

At the airport, right before boarding the plane, a man says to me, "Has anyone ever told you that you look like Larry the Cable Guy?" I, quite frankly, wanted to die. I hurried onto the plane and sat down for my five hour flight, only to discover a banshee infant to my right and an ape-like child napping to my left. The ape-like child was very well behaved for the entire flight; the banshee child lived up to it's name.

I am very tired.

Out of the Wild

2009-09-02T15:36:00.003-06:00

As I type this post, I'm sitting in a coffee shop in downtown Anchorage, buzzed on caffeine, waiting for my plane. I'm leaving Alaska after a little more than four months.

I know that my posts from Alaska have been scant-- filled with pictures but containing little substance. I've been busy, and when I wasn't busy, I was lazy. And I was at work quite a bit. And sometimes I was hungover. And there was a period where I didn't have my laptop. And another period where I didn't have my laptop charger. But enough excuses. On my last day here, let's talk about Alaska.

Alaska is a beautiful, beautiful, wild place. I went on several hikes that I will remember for ages. The landscape is vast and harsh, overwhelming and bewitching. I was almost attacked by a moose. I got to pet a particularly curious fox on a drunken night on the way home from the bar. I got within twenty feet of a black bear who was thankfully indifferent to me. I rafted on a glacier fed river. I bathed in a stream miles away from the nearest person. I saw the northern lights dance across the sky. I explored the state capital, inaccessible by road. I wandered the biggest city, Anchorage, and enjoyed a street fair and a baseball game (starting at midnight and utilizing no artificial light) in Fairbanks. I dosed acid and wandered through a music festival, convinced something big was happening. I had an incredible live music experience at the World Famous Denali Salmon Bake with the Stumblebum Brass Band. I cooked a grouse, and ate part of a moose and fresh caught Alaskan salmon. It was four months filled with amazing experiences.

I went there to work at a gift shop, and let's be honest, that was awful. It was the worst job I've ever had. The place was poorly ran, the employers were indifferent to the employees, and the customers were generally rude and haughty. I met several people thee as well-- some I enjoyed and others I delight in never having to see again. I made several assumptions about native Alaskans, seasonal workers, and Alaskan tourists that are negative and irrelevant to this post. I do not regret my time here.

What do I regret? I never made the 9 hour bus trip out to Wonder Lake to photograph Mount McKinley. I never camped overnight in Denali National Park. I never got a good view of a grizzly bear, and never saw a wolf or a bull moose sporting a giant set of antlers. I never made it north of the Arctic Circle. Alas-- there's always next year.

I do not think I will come back to Denali next year, but I think I will return to Alaska. The Kenai peninsula looks inviting. Maybe a short weekend trip up to Denali to do some of the things I missed? We'll see. Right now, though, it's back to New Orleans

Monkey Gone To Heaven

2009-08-18T00:58:00.004-06:00

Earlier in the summer I got a ticket from the Alaskan State Troopers. An open container violation demanding $210 from me.

One afternoon earlier in the summer (the same night this picture was taken, it so happens, although it is doubtful, nay!, plain wrong, the date of this encounter was July 1) we went out to Windy Bridge to explore and initiate Alex and Danny into life as an Alaskan summer worker (these pictures were taken just before the law got involved-- once again, though, not on the 21st of June. In fact, I looked at my citation; all of this occurred on June 21st. Whatever.). Anyway, we drank a few beers, opted not to litter, and carried several empty bottles back to the car. Unfortunately, some of us were far drunker than others-- Danny opted to run around the bridge with a bottle in hand, attracting the police who, after applying breathylizers to the group, wrote us all these tickets.

However, as the judge was begrudgingly forced to admit, Alaska's open container laws apply only to the driver of vehicles, not passengers. So we got off. We fought the law, and we won. The monkey (one of many) is off my back. The cop almost cried, he was so disappointed.

American justice. Fuck yeah.

Time Traveling No More

2009-08-16T00:59:00.003-06:00

Well, I've finally caught up, and just in the nick of time. It took more than a month, but I finally got all the pictures from my Alaskan adventure posted, and right as it is coming to a close. So no more going backwards to see the posts-- everything from here on will be in real time.

And, as an update, I leave Alaska on the second of September to go back to New Orleans to complete some projects there (more on this in a later post). I'm seriously debating returning next summer to save money to leave the country. That, however, remains to be seen.

Climbing Mount Healy

2009-07-30T11:22:00.002-06:00

I knew that I had hurt my knee more than a year ago while wandering about on the Appalachian Trail. How bad was a mystery. I have hiked at least a hundred miles since coming to Alaska-- many of those hikes with some steep portions. Despite that, I was not ready for Mount Healy. Constant uphill climbing and winds battering at least 45 miles an hour (there were times when, quite literally, I was blown down) my knee gave out about two thirds of the way to the top of the 5000+ foot peak, forcing me to cower down from the gales and wait for Joe to finish. I'll never be a mountain climber-- just a hiker. However, the section of Healy I covered were spectacular.

the mountain

tropical storm force winds, at least

point alexander

Savage River

2009-07-20T11:17:00.000-06:00

It was a beautiful day for a hike along Savage River.

a hoary marmot

Polychrome Pass

2009-07-10T11:06:00.003-06:00

I took an evening bus trip into Denali to see Polychrome Pass in the westerly light. Simply unbelievable.

caribou, running

mighty Teklanika

caribou keep their heads in the brush to ward off mosquitos

Long Time Gone

2009-07-04T21:10:00.003-06:00

It's do or die. I feel certain that if I don't start posting these pictures from Alaska (this huge myriad of pictures... there are oh so many) I may never and the blog will fall deeper into decline. So I'm going to start posting. Text is more difficult, so I'm going to keep it to a minimum. I'm also going to attempt to keep things on a vague chronological order, although the dates on the posts are likely to be not near the dates of the actual events. Anyway, scroll down for all the Alaska pictures-- they'll be coming soon.

Oh, and by the way, merry Independence day.

The Krewe

2009-07-01T10:46:00.000-06:00

A group photo, encompassing almost everyone... and at least one utter stranger.

Exploring Old Healy

2009-06-25T10:39:00.003-06:00

Old Healy is thus titled because it was to be the site for the town before it... wasn't. Quite frankly, I don't know why the town was moved... probably something to do with the highway coming through. Anyway, the original site is a lovely area filled with sand cliffs and greenery.

J and K

Piper, the resident border collie

Kelsey and Nikki

Overview

Daredeviling under Windy Bridge

2009-06-21T10:32:00.000-06:00

Windy bridge takes the George Parks Highway over the Nenana river between Healy and McKinley Village. It is thus named because of the speed of the breeze whipping through the canyon. We hung out here one afternoon-- drank some beers, watched the river, and balanced our way across somewhat oblivious the the drop below.

Rafting the Nenana beneath the bridge. We rafted earlier in the summer-- good times!

Johnny, giving a shining example of the kind of ridiculous shenanigans we should not have partaken in whilst drinking.

On the Cruise: Harbour Seals

2009-06-15T10:21:00.000-06:00

Embrace the cute. Just wrap it up in your arms and make it part of you. You know you can't resist.

On the Cruise: the Sawyer Glacier

2009-06-15T10:17:00.002-06:00

The Sawyer Glacier, a magnificent and mammoth sheet of ice, was the climax of my day cruise. Standing on the ship, staring at the wall of ice (the photos do not do the size of the thing justice), watching with bated breath as chunk broke off and fell crashing and tumbling into the sea, was one of the most dwarfing experiences of my life.

On the Cruise: the Tracy Arm Fjord

2009-06-15T10:10:00.002-06:00

According to the Wiktionary, a fjord is a long narrow inlet between cliffs. That is true. I will supply the fact that they are often formed by glacial movement; my captain will supply the opinion that the Tracy Arm Fjord rivals those in Scandinavia and New Zealand. That I cannot attest to, although I can attest to the utter beauty of the Tracy Arm.

These photos do not do justice to being amongst the cliffs, surrounded by such wild natural splendor.

On the Cruise: Icebergs

2009-06-15T10:00:00.001-06:00

On the Cruise: Wildlife

2009-06-15T09:34:00.003-06:00

My final day in Juneau I took a day cruise into the Tracy Arm Fjord to view the Sawyer Glacier-- it offered a wide array of stunning scenery and several great wildlife sightings. Aside from the ones below, we also saw bald eagles, humpback whales and harbour seals. The first and the final can be viewed in posts linked to their titles.

a black bear

a sea lion

In the Rainforest

2009-06-14T09:29:00.003-06:00

Juneau, and most of Southeast Alaska for that matter, is located in the Tongass National Forest, a temperate rainforest teeming with flora and fauna.

The Mendenhall Glacier

2009-06-13T09:22:00.000-06:00

The Mendenhall Glacier is located near Juneau-- the visitor center offers a lovely view, but the vistas are more stunning from a nearby trail that scales the peak adjacent.

Juneau Trails

2009-06-12T03:23:00.003-06:00

Earlier I mentioned that in insular Juneau, Alaska there are more trails than roads, many of which are easily accessible. Behold! Pictures--

Juneau-- Alaska's Capital

2009-06-11T13:23:00.001-06:00

I took a vacation from my vacation and flew to Juneau, the capital of Alaska (a fact that causes some contention in the state due to it's size, liberal nature, and the fact that it is unreachable by car). It primarily is known as the seat of government and as a bustling port for cruise ships. Founded as a gold mining town in the early days of the Alaskan gold rush, it is located in the center of a vast coastal rain forest, easily explorable by the vast system of trails throughout the town, of which there are far more than roads.

Port of Juneau on a Foggy Morning

Fishing Boat

Downtown

St. Nicholas Roman Orthodox Church, the oldest in Alaska

Alaskan State Capital

Alaskan Governor's Mansion

Raptors!

2009-05-20T13:52:00.000-06:00

Golden Eagle

Bald Eagle on Iceberg

Alaskan Flora

2009-05-12T13:42:00.003-06:00

Alpine Arnica (probably)

Columbine

Lupine

Alaskan Rodents

2009-05-08T01:51:00.000-06:00

Snowshoe Hare

Squirrel

Snowshoe Hare-- unable to capture a hare with it's white winter coat, I settled instead for several pictures of the brown summer coat.

Ground Squirrel

Raven Dance

2009-05-06T02:53:00.002-06:00

This beautiful video of ravens circling in a cloudy sky was taken at the sand cliffs.

Sand Cliffs

2009-05-06T02:37:00.000-06:00

These massive sand cliffs are about an hours hike away from camp-- on the way back the first time we traveled here I saw my first Alaskan bear as we startled it and it fled into the forest.

Camping at Montana Creek

2009-05-05T02:00:00.001-06:00

About a mile and a half down the Montana Creek Trail there is a trapper's cabin owned by a friend of our bosses-- we're allowed to camp there. It's a glorious spot perched above a river and far from anything. We all went as a group the first time-- later I went out by myself, making it almost to the cabin before stumbling upon an angry moose in the trail. He refused to yield and threatened to charge. I, naturally, retreated and went home. It was exhilarating being harassed by a beast of that size that could have easily killed me with a well placed hoof to the skull.

Tyler at the cabin

There are several of these structures along this trail, as well as other trails in the area. I assume they are markers for the trail, but the trails all seem well socialized leaving these feeling extraneous. They could possibly (but unlikely) be emergency shelters, but they seem far to small and haphazard. They have a creepy Blair Witch feel to them, whatever their purpose. Aiding the unease, both of these had animal parts (a skin and a wing) suspended from them.

Hoofed Beasts

2009-05-03T23:35:00.001-06:00

There are three main hoofed mammals in Denali Park that everyone wants to see: caribou, dall sheep, and moose. I saw two caribou on my first day getting to camp, but am yet to see any since. We would see dall sheep almost everyday going to work early in the season-- less so as there are more cars on the road. And moose? We see moose all the time. Looking for the big racks on the moose? They fall off every season and the moose have to grow them back during the summer. They haven't gotten to the stereotypical size yet.

Dall Sheep

Pet Moose (took this photo less than 2 minutes from my cabin)

Park Moose

More Park Moose

Joe vs the Fire

2009-05-02T23:16:00.004-06:00

There's more craziness afoot! Gasp with terror as Joe attempts to leap a small campfire in a single bound! Applaud as he succeeds! Deja vu as he then does it... again! Giggle at the silliness of it all!

Campfire Tales

2009-05-01T22:56:00.003-06:00

Nothing like a late evening bonfire to pass a dull Alaskan day. This one actually prompted me to quit drinking for a few weeks after a remarkably awkward incident involving me blacked out and pissing on the floor of my cabin. Roommate = unhappy. Naturally.

Hooligans

Naughty Corbin

Faris/Tyler

Two Tylers and a Corbin

Tyler vs. the Hill

2009-04-30T23:06:00.003-06:00

There's crazyness afoot. Behold Tyler taking on a vast sand cliff with an old mountain bike. Awe as he seems briefly to succeed! Gasp as he inevitably fails! Laugh, as he walked away unhurt!

Bigger Sky Country

2009-04-30T18:22:00.001-06:00

The Alaskan sky is unlike anything I've ever seen, be it overcast or blue. The cloud formations, the colors, the sunsets (during the spring and fall when the sun sets) are sublime.

An Alaskan-Shaped Cloud

snow falling on mountains

Dragonfly Creek: First Camping Trip

2009-04-29T18:13:00.000-06:00

Views from the Top

Front Country Trails

2009-04-27T18:03:00.002-06:00

These were taken during a short hike amongst the front country trails in Denali Park.

Horseshoe Lake

Frozen Bridge

Alaskan Birds

2009-04-26T17:49:00.000-06:00

Willow Ptarmigan (summer plumage)

Red-Footed Sea Birds

Raven on the Cross

Willow Ptarmigan (Winter Plumage)

Woodpecker

Denali National Park Sled Dogs

2009-04-25T17:43:00.002-06:00

Denali National Park has a team of sled dogs. During the winter they are used to aid park rangers in traversing the frozen landscape. In summer, during peak season, they do shows. Most of them are quite delightful and domestic, as opposed to the vicious sled dogs of lore.

Denali National Park: The 30-Mile Car Trip, Part 1 (Nature)

2009-04-24T21:29:00.000-06:00

Early in the season, car tourists are allowed to drive 30 miles into the park. Afterwards, cars can only drive 15 miles in. We took a company van in-- these are

These next two hazy photos are 'the Great One', Mt. McKinley, the highest mountain in North America at 20, 320 feet. Only 30 percent of the people who visit the park get to see the mountain because it hides behind clouds. These pictures show it partially revealed.

Buddies, hiking

When it's springtime in Alaska...

2009-04-20T00:52:00.000-06:00

When I first got to Alaska, there was snow on the ground. Lot's of snow, although it was only moderately cold due to the lack of any humidity. 32 in Alaska doesn't feel as miserable as 45 in New Orleans. Behold-- snow!

Welcome to Healy: First Impressions

2009-04-18T00:46:00.000-06:00

The camp at which I live for work is in the tiny town of Healy, population approximately 900, located 11 miles north of McKinley Village and Denali. It is best known as A.) a cheap place to stay whilst visiting Denali National Park, B.) a coal mining town, C.) about twenty crow-flying moles from the spot where Chris McCandless (aka the Into the Wild kid) perished in his bus.

It is remarkably small and remote, things are expensive, and it's possibly the largest redneck enclave on a major road in Alaska. But it's filled with grandeur. All these were taken within a twenty minute walk from where I sleep.

Anchorage: Alaska's Biggest City

2009-04-17T04:47:00.000-06:00

Anchorage is... dull. And kind of ugly. But there are fun things to do. Enjoy these pictures:

Devil in the White City

2009-04-16T04:07:00.000-06:00

On my way to Anchorage I had a several hour layover in Chicago, during which I wandered the city a while, including a little tailgating at Wrigley Field. Behold, the city:

Humdinger

2009-02-24T02:26:00.000-06:00

It was, to speak lightly, the greatest party of the decade... a Mardi Gras to remember.

Some photos:

a Krewe float

mardi gras rushing

bourbon/babylon

Wild, drug-fueled, endlessly enjoyable-- I was awake for almost six days straight, working 16-18 hours a day. Making endless amounts of money, drinking endless amounts of booze, popping the pills, doing the best cocaine I've ever stumbled across.

Whenever I think of Mardi Gras, this is the one I'll ponder upon-- shuffling through the hazy memories like playing cards, ruminating on them, smiling about them. My final days in New Orleans were some of the best of my life...despite the events to come.

Some Girls:

Record Lows

2009-02-04T19:07:00.000-06:00

For the past three weeks, our house on Ithaca street has been without any warmth. My roommate Jeana neglected to pay the gas bill, and, as a result, the gas was turned off. That's not, I suppose, a big deal... shit happens, and I myself have been broke and without cash for necessities at times as well. So there is no central heat, no hot water and no way to use the oven or range or dryer. We get by without these things-- she goes to her family who conveniently live nearby and I... cope accordingly. This whole situation is reportedly going to be rectified on Friday, at which time the past due notices will be paid and the gas will be returned.

With that healthy dose of background information doled out, now I get down to the point: this morning, when I awoke, it was the coldest yet it's been inside the house. The useless thermostat read 55. I don't know what the temperature was outside; inside, it has since risen steadily to 60. Having no reason to go outside today, I haven't. I slept until three in the afternoon because it was a way to kill the time. I've stayed mostly in my bedroom where a space heater noisily and diligently heats the space. I've tottered around the house a bit in a hoodie and layers. I feel mildly unwell, with a runny nose and a cough, but nothing that aggressively puts upon my day; anyway, it's become standard. I've been that way for two and a half weeks.

Thankfully we live in New Orleans, where the weather is generally agreeable. It's not nearly as cold here as it is in, say, Chicago, or Missoula, or Anchorage. Considering I'll be arriving in Anchorage towards the end of their winter, where, I've been helpfully informed, "the temperature generally stays above freezing in the daylight", I realize I need to buy some warmer winter clothes, something I've never really had to do because I've mostly lived in warmer southern climates. I remember visiting Chicago in March and being generally unhappy about the snow and the cold. At least I can look forward to the theoretical hum of a heater inside my cabin at Denali.

Into the Wild

2009-02-03T22:34:00.002-06:00

I was patiently waiting until everything was official and true before posting the following news, and as it seems that everything is at last on the level I have little problems sharing:

I'll be spending about five upcoming months (April 17th- September 20th) on the outskirts of Denali National Park in Alaska, working for Denali Gift Outfitters and spending loads of time in the park itself, exploring the backcountry and the tallest mountain in North America.

The job is, in itself, remarkably typical of jobs everywhere-- folding T-shirts, scanning barcodes, being nice to tourists-- all for eight dollars an hour. It's the location, obviously, that is so exciting. The room and board is provided by the outfitter in a dorm-type situation remarkably similar to the way I spent my second year of college.

I'll still be leaving New Orleans about the first of March and begin making my way to the northwest coast where flights to Anchorage are considerably cheaper.

I am, to say the least, remarkably excited.

The Best Films of 2008

2009-01-31T14:30:00.001-06:00

1. Synecdoche, New York

Charlie Kaufmann's directorial debut, a haunting, loving, brilliant tome on life and mortality, was the most affecting film of the year. A superbly-crafted existential fantasy about a theater director who fills a warehouse with a reenactment of his life and the lives of everyone around him, the plot doesn't work in a chronological, traditional way but instead as an emotional journey towards the end of...us. Featured powerful performances by Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Samantha Morton and Michelle Williams. Not to be underestimated or dismissed, a film masterwork that lingers long after the credits roll, begging to be revisited. A classic.

2. Milk & Paranoid Park

It was quite a year for Gus Van Sant, the best American filmmaker currently working. He began 2008 with one of his lyrical, heartbreaking, aggressively independent arthouse features (a la My Own Private Idaho, Elephant, Last Days) Paranoid Park, about a teenager wandering aimless in the wake of a terrible accident and ended with a return to what, for Van Sant, counts as mainstream (a la To Die For, Good Will Hunting, Finding Forrester) Milk, the story of the first openly gay man ever elected to public office. The former was an act of filmmaking brilliance, subtly Felliniesque and Hitchcockian, rewriting the language of cinema and never losing the emotional core of this boy on this journey. The latter was the most uplifting film of the year, finding joy and hope in absolute sorrow. Milk also contained some of the best performances of the year-- Sean Penn outdoing himself once again, James Franco re-astounding after a virtuoso comedic turn in Pineapple Express and Josh Brolin bringing real pathos to the role of Dan White, turning what could have been a one-note character into the most complex man in the film. Paranoid Park brought us the debut of Gabe Nevins, with a face that Van Sant trusts to carry his entire film-- it does.

3. The Wrestler

An emotional wrecking ball of a film, anchored by the performance of the year. For once, all the hype is true: Mickey Rourke is that good as Randy "the Ram" Robinson, a broken down piece of meat, an aging pro-wrestler who traded in his life for the whiz and the bang of the crowds and the fame and finds himself middle-aged and alone. Marisa Tomei and Evan Rachel Wood are good in supporting roles, but this is Rourke's show-- playing of his own broken persona he finds the heart of the character and never misses the mark. Occasionally the film can't live up to the extraordinary realism of this performance, but it's a tiny flaw-- Darren Arronofsky trades in his usual theatrics for a more somber, toned down approach and almost scores a complete masterwork.

4. Doubt

John Patrick Shanley brought his Pulitzer and Tony award winning play about the evolution of the Catholic Church in the wake of John Paul the Second to the big screen with out losing much of the parable's power. As much a period piece as an allegory on certainty or a drama about homosexuality and child molestation, it contained more notable work from Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Meryl Streep, although the film is stolen by Viola Davis, going head to head with Streep in a ten minute scene that becomes the heart of the film. The woman is incredible. The most intelligent film of the year.

5. Forgetting Sarah Marshall & Pineapple Express

Judd Apatow and his unstoppable comedy factory were responsible for the two funniest, purest entertainments of the year-- the first,Forgetting Sarah Marshall, was a fairly traditional romcom that never lost touch with realism whilst keeping the heart and humor intact in it's story of a man recently broken up from his girlfriend who goes to Hawaii to ease the pain, only to find here there with her new beau. The second and the most interesting was David Gordon Green's second masterwork of the year, a brilliant combination of wildly homoerotic buddy comedy, stoner romp, head trip, and action satire. Forgetting Sarah Marshall proved the big screen viability of Peter Segal, who scripted and starred; Pineapple Express continued Seth Rogan's steamroll through Hollywood and featured another truly exceptional performance by James Franco.

6. Wall-E

Great science fiction is rare, making this Pixar release a gem. And it's a wonder it was even green-lit by parent corporation Disney-- so sparse on dialogue is the first half it almost plays as a Chaplin-esque silent film and so heavy handed the environmental message of the second half it plays almost as propaganda. But never mind the last act flaws, the film is magical. About a robot left alone cleaning Earth after man has ben forced to desert the planet , the film is cute, touching and heart-rending, smart and perceptive, and the animation is brilliant. Not a 'children's film' by any means, it's a worthwhile experience for anyone with a penchant for great cinema.

7. Revolutionary Road

Sam Mendes directs reteams Kate Winslet (his wife) and Leonardo DiCaprio in this unofficial sequel to Titanic filtered through his own American Beauty. Frank and April Wheeler are two free-sprits who, in the mid-50s, are disenchanted with the average life but find themselves saddled with children, pointless responsibilities and trapped in a suburban hell from which they are unable and unwilling to escape. In a big, brassy performance Winslet is extraordinary and DiCaprio hits a personal best with his quieter, more subtle performance. The film occasionally ascends into melodrama and a few scenes find the wrong tone, but the closing passages are wrenching, the emotional currents that flows through the film are unwavering, and when the two leads spar, your witnessing some of the best acting of the year. A devastating portrait of suburbia that makes American Beauty look like 'Father Knows Best'.

8. The Duchess

An intelligent, exuberant, touching and entertaining costume drama (the best in some time, in fact), telling the engrossing story of Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire, married to the duke at a young age and effectively imprisoned-- a bird in a gilded cage-- unable to pursue her own passions and, infuriating the Duke to no end, unable to produce a male heir. Slightly feminist in theme, the film is handsomely mounted, continually gorgeous, showing a young woman ahead of her time, awash in celebrity and fashion, and, as seen by Saul Dibb's film, increasingly relevant to today. Keira Knightley shines as the centerpiece of the film, but Ralph Fiennes, as her husband, is the real standout, taking a character that, on paper, is no more than a standard villain and via performance making him relatable, despicable, sympathetic and terrifying... all at once.

9. The Dark Knight

The biggest, most popular film of the year (and almost of all time), the latest Batman film was intense, mesmerizing, suspenseful and shockingly intelligent. The years most effective score underlined the action and the suspense builds to a breaking point, overshadowing that the film is overlong and riddled with plot holes. And the performances! Heath Ledger in a swan song of terrifying, chaotic insanity. Aaron Eckhart in a big, juicy, melodramatic role that he chews through admirably. Christian Bale, still the most effective of all the batmen. And Maggie Gyllenhaal, Gary Oldman, Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman in supporting roles as good as you would expect from such marquee names.

10. Snow Angels

A small, quiet drama from David Gordon Green about a teenager making the first steps towards love and a thirty-something couple taking the final steps away from it, before everyone is irrevocably changed by a tragedy. The film is set in a small, icy Northeast town in the dead of winter, and the photography is perceptive and beautiful. The first two thirds of the film are perfect, the final reel expertly made but belonging to a more melodramatic film. Sam Rockwell is brilliant as an unstable alcoholic trying and failing to get clean and Kate Beckinsale is a revelation as his ex-wife, trying and failing to get by.

Most Disappointing

1. Slumdog Millionaire

2. Wanted

3. Religulous

4. Burn After Reading

5. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Performances 2008

Actor

Leonardo DiCaprio (Revolutionary Road)

Colin Farrell (In Bruges)

Sean Penn (Milk)

Sam Rockwell (Snow Angels)

Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler)

Actress

Anne Hathaway (Rachel Getting Married)

Keira Knightley (The Duchess)

Frances McDormand (Burn After Reading, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day)

Meryl Streep (Doubt)

Kate Winslet (Revolutionary Road)

Featured Actor

Josh Brolin (Milk)

Ralph Fiennes (The Duchess)

James Franco (Milk, Pineapple Express)

Frank Langella (Frost/Nixon)

Heath Ledger (The Dark Knight)

Featured Actress

Penelope Cruz (Vicki Christina Barcelona)

Viola Davis (Doubt)

Rosemarie Dewitt (Rachel Getting Married)

Emma Thompson (Brideshead Revisited)

Debra Winger (Rachel Getting Married)

Bush/Nixon

2009-01-29T19:20:00.004-06:00

I know that the above picture is... aggressive, but this is not, really, going to be a tirade comparing our most disgraced president to the controversial man who just left office. They are not really the same in any way, other than infamy, in my opinion.

First though, a little bit about the Academy award nominated Frost/Nixon. It is fine. It is entertaining, and occasionally it reaches beyond into moments that are truly extraordinary but they, alas, do not last. The film is directed rather pedestrianly, but no one can be expected, least of all Ron Howard, to reinvent the wheel with what is essentially a performance piece. And, yes, that's what it is. Frank Langella as Richard M. Nixon is sublime, Michael Sheen as David Frost is very good; Rebecca Hall is beautiful, Kevin Bacon is steely, Oliver Platt is comic relief-- everyone does a fine job.

Instead, this is a post (like a similar post on Gus van Sant's Milk) about how bloody goddamn timely the film is. The David Frost interviews were the point when an angry, disillusioned America got what they wanted (and deserved) from a president who had tarnished the office, the country, and himself: not necessarily an apology, but at least an admission of guilt. Afterwards, they were free to move on.

And here we are, in 2009, deserving the same thing from a man guilty of the same sins. Richard Nixon (according to Howard's film and most widely accepted accounts of him) was an intelligent man, ill-at-ease with himself. He had the brevity to accept guilt, inwardly at least (the Frost confession is still far from an outright confession), and contained the admirable ability to self-doubt. George W. Bush is of middling intelligent, filled with bravado-- I doubt he believes he has done anything wrong, nor could he ever admit to doing so.

And that is a shame. More shameful, however, is that there is no clamor for any such apology for any alleged wrongdoings... or even a clear explanation. Despite all the blatant lies about such a wide range of things and all the lives ruined because of said lies, no one seems to care... It's as if the last eight years, with all their horrendous nonsense, were just one of those things. And, I suppose, it is-- in the modern age of American and world politics-- but only because we allow it to.

I suppose that John F. Kennedy was the last time America actually believed in any of it's leaders (of course, I could be wrong-- maybe we've always mistrusted and blindly accepted, from Washington and Jefferson through the modern day-- maybe we've always elected shepherd instead of Commanders in Chief and history has convinced us otherwise) then he was shot and we were given Johnson and his Vietnam fiasco followed by the Nixon scandals. Behold, the fathers of American cynicism, producing their heirs in Reagen, Clinton and the Bushes. Is Obama any better? Theoretically, a week in, he seems honest anyway, which is refreshing change.

Yes, I know that Bush will never apologize or even admit any wrongdoings in his eight years in office-- he will ride horses and drink O'Douls content with his legacy. America needed to heal after Watergate-- we demanded something from Nixon, he replied, and left us with bitter scars. I think we need to heal again after eight years of executive misuse-- yet we demand nothing from Bush, he acts accordingly, and leaves us with open wounds.

On the Birthday of Jackson Pollock...

2009-01-28T19:41:00.007-06:00

...allow me a moment to decry the fact that I have been to Cody, Wyoming, the birthplace of the great painter, and was aghast to find that, for the most part, the otherwise lovely town is unaware that they are, in fact, the birthplace of Jackson Pollock.

They are, however, greatly aware that their town was founded by Buffalo Bill Cody. They hold a rodeo in his honor. The kind woman at the Chamber of Commerce offered plenty of information on said rodeo. She did not know who Jackson Pollock was.

Two previously posted personal photos from the National Gallery in Washington, D.C.

Suicide Tuesday

2009-01-27T19:38:00.001-06:00

I find myself, here on this Suicide Tuesday, alive... vaguely. Not dead, not permanently maimed, not mindlessly vacant and wandering the streets panhandling for change and wrestling dogs for scraps like a psychotic. My eyesight is almost entirely back to normal. I have, more than once, had the energy to get out of bed. I had the urge to eat something-- not much, but baby steps, of course. I'm yet to be able to gain an erection, but I'm sure that skill will return in time, and besides... I don't have the energy for one now anyway. Yes, it was quite a weekend.

I was feeling whimsical after work on Saturday, when we all headed deliriously over to Amps with giant styrofoam letters left at the bar from the private birthday party we had just finished hosting. I had little interest in spending my hard earned money on a drug I was tired of, as I am fairly tired of cocaine, and instead tried a little harder and got four hits of ecstasy for the same price. Yay.

So, the rest of the night and most of the morning was spent rolling about the French Quarter. My initial instincts had been to hookup, but that proved impossible in my attention-deficit state, coupled with the fact that it was about 8am. Noonish, I went by the bar to retrieve a bag I had left the night before, made my self a triple and wandered out to catch the bus back to Meitaire.

None of this is the problem, really. In fact, I was very happy throughout the previously mentioned adventures, as MDMA is wont to make someone be. In fact, throughout my experimentation, X is definitely my favorite illicit substance. It's just so overwhelming yet clear. So complete and intoxicating and still something one can somewhat function on and be out in something similar to a version of public. The problems began when I got home, wasn't the least bit sleepy, was still rolling a bit, and started drinking on an empty stomach.

I drank all day Sunday. Jeana got home and took me out to a bar for a drink or two after she got off work. I came home and continued drinking. I passed out sometime around 3 in the bathroom. Sometime around 5 I relocated to my bed. I woke up around noon (yes, still rolling a bit) and fixed myself a bloody mary, followed by a screwdriver. This is, I will admit, where awkward decisions were made on my part. Some people may know that certain kinds of cough syrup and most types of allergy pills will, when taken in unrecommended quantities will make you pleasantly (or unpleasantly, depending on your disposition) wrecked. So, going to CVS to procure these drugs were not a good idea. Taking an entire bottle and box of both substances whilst still on a bit of a roll and steadily consuming vast amounts of alcohol was a stupendously bad idea. I did, however, have quite a time while I could both stand and stay awake. I passed out in the vicinity of 11(pm) on Monday and awoke about 6(pm) on Tuesday. Most of the preceding was written on Wednesday.

So, yes, preach if you must... I guess I could have died and that it is a grand miracle that I'm alive. I did, however, have buckets and buckets of fun. As I'm conscience to write this, I say even trade.

On the Academy Award Nominations

2009-01-22T10:14:00.002-06:00

(Side note: I've been patiently waiting for Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler to open near me before publishing my year-end best of list. With the film opening in New Orleans on Friday, expect that list to appear sometime on Monday)

In a year of mostly lackluster films, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences did a fine, if not exceptional, job of choosing nominees for the 2009 Oscar ceremony. Most surprising were the almost virtual shut outs of three high-profile contenders-- Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino received not a single nomination (take that you old cur!), Sam Mendes' Revolutionary Road, considered a shoo-in for Best Picture and lead acting nods walked away with a few tech categories and a silly Supporting Actor nom for Michael Shannon's loud, off-putting work, and The Dark Knight, the most popular film of the year and one of the best, received the obligatory nod for Heath Ledger's knock-out work (expect him to win as well) and swept the tech cats, but went without the expected Best Picture and Best Director nods.

I personally was a little surprised by the myriad of noms for Gus Van Sant's Milk, by far the best of the nominated Best Pictures. While I think it was almost the best film of the year, I didn't expect the Academy to agree. After Crash beat Brokeback Mountain in 2005, I thought it was clear they preferred old-fashioned racism parables (this year Gran Torino) to thoughtful gay rights tomes. Thankfully, I misread, and the AMPAS are atoning for past mistakes.

The acting categories were mostly as predicted with a few surprises-- the invaluable Richard Jenkins snuck in as a lead actor for The Visitor, Melissa Leo as well as lead actress for the little-seen Frozen River. Taraji P. Henson received a baffling nomination for her work in The Curious Case on Benjamin Button and, fresh off the massive success of Iron Man, Robert Downey Jr. snuck in for his satirical role in Tropic Thunder. Personally, if a comedic performance was going to be nominated on the basis of a years worth of stellar work, I would have preferred James Franco in Pineapple Express, but I'll take what I'm given.

Bravo to the Academy for their recognition of Viola Davis's ten show-stopping minutes in Doubt and for not feeling the need to ego-stroke Cate Blanchett for average work in Benjamin Button. One wonders why they chose to applaud Angelina Jolie's histironics in Changeling and choose Kate Winslet's role in The Reader over more accomplished work in Revolutionary Road.

One also questions the nomination of Waltz with Bashir as Best Foreign Language film but not Best Documentary or Best Animated Film, of which it could also have been nominated. The original screenplay category contained three small treasures-- In Bruges, Frozen River, and Happy-Go-Lucky; the Best Song category did not contain Bruce Springsteen's marvelous 'The Wrestler', from the eponymous film.

Then there is the troubling case of Danny Boyle's Slumdog Millionaire which, readers of this blog will remember, I hate. Thankfully none of the subpar acting was singled out, but ten overall nominations for this nonsense is a bit overboard. The fact that the only slightly better Benjamin Button received 13 is not a bit more heartening.

The Nominees-

Best Picture
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Frost/Nixon
Milk
The Reader
Slumdog Millionaire

Actor
Richard Jenkins, The Visitor
Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon
Sean Penn, Milk
Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler

Actress
Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married
Angelina Jolie, Changeling
Melissa Leo, Frozen River
Meryl Streep, Doubt
Kate Winslet, The Reader

Supporting Actor
Josh Brolin, Milk
Robert Downey Jr., Tropic Thunder
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Doubt
Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight
Michael Shannon, Revolutionary Road

Supporting Actress
Amy Adams, Doubt
Penelope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Viola Davis, Doubt
Taraji P. Henson, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler

Director
David Fincher, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Ron Howard, Frost/Nixon
Gus Van Sant, Milk
Stephen Daldry, The Reader
Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire

Adapted Screenplay
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Doubt
Frost/Nixon
The Reader

Slumdog Millionaire

Original Screenplay
Frozen River
Happy-Go-Lucky
In Bruges
Milk
Wall-E

Animated Feature Film
Bolt
Kung-Fu Panda
Wall-E

Orpheus

2009-01-18T10:13:00.002-06:00

I slid into work just before midnight, already well lubricated from the Brad Paisley concert, and poured myself a triple Jack and Coke. There was a decent crowd, I went about my work, stocking, refilling, cleaning. It was Latin Party-- the promoter arrived, the place filled up to capacity within fifteen minutes like a tidal wave overtaking a coastal town.

Three bartenders scrambling to serve 100 people, one barback scrambling to keep from running out of necessities, unable to get to the store rooms, unable to move through the packed club.

...alerted security to the old homeless man dancing for change inside the VIP after his 'audience' made clear they wished her were no longer there. It was cold outside-- he didn't want to go.

...ran out of ice, made several trips down to the corner store, dragging back bag after bag or ice, arriving only to have to go again almost immediately.

...saw the girls screaming and bickering on the side walk, saw the unconscious girl dragged to the chair.

The police came shortly after to deal with the screaming girls, who had stopped their screaming and supplemented it with brawling. Three cop cars, their lights a fine accompaniment to the house music blasting inside. Upon entering the lobby, the cops discovered the OD in the chair, called an ambulance to take her away. Official club position is that she drank too much... I've seen plenty of drunk people, none whose eyes rolled back like that. Trying to move the girl angered her male companion-- he attacked the police officers and was promptly arrested.

Three strikes, you're out. Tired of this nonsense, the NOPD shut down the Ohm Lounge at 3am, cleared everyone out, robbed us of at least another $1000 in tips. The employees promptly went to @ to bemoan their misfortune.

"Chaos, baby. Bang your head on that."

Time Well Wasted

2009-01-17T10:11:00.003-06:00

It was Jeana's birthday, and, in celebration, we went to the Paisley Party tour held at the New Orleans Arena.

Opening act was Dierks Bentley, giving off the impression of trying to hard to be affable and 'down-home' as he sang all his hits, most of which I like very much. Was much the change (not necessarily for the better) from the show he did five years ago at Tipitina's where, by the end of the evening, so drunken was he that the audience sing along was all that could get him through 'What Was I Thinking'.

Followed up by Brad Paisley, guitar virtuoso and probably the most viable artist in country music (great singer, affecting songwriter, astounding musician) singing most of his most recent and popular songs (could have used some 'All I Wanted Was A Car' or 'Time Well Wasted', Brad...). Said wonderful things about New Orleans, attempted to sing 'City of New Orleans' but was very honest about clearly not knowing the words... promised to learn it next time, sang 'When the Saints Go Marching In' instead.

Anyway, Brad's AV unit deserves an award of some kind, as their displays were breathtaking and at times threatened to overshadow the performer. Pre-recorded cameos by Taylor Swift, Dierks Bentley, Keith Urban and B.B. King were entertaining. Pre-recorded cameo by Alison Krauss was not, because my enthusiasm that she's really on the stage!! made me look quite foolish when she turned out to be a video projection.

In all, a fine show. Drank plenty of Jack Daniel's, felt warm and fuzzy. These are not my personal photos, but instead belong to Russo-- I forgot my camera.

The American Dream

2009-01-14T14:54:00.001-06:00

I have seen the dewey fruition of the American Dream-- the grand, glowing catharsis that is all that this country wishes to be and the perfect example of our can-do spirit. I have been there, and you can go there, too. This is Laughlin, Nevada. But let's be precise: American Dream is not in Laughlin, it is Laughlin, perched in neon splendor upon the Colorado River.

But this post is not about Laughlin and why it is the American Dream-- that post will have to wait until I perhaps visit there again (and, great God, how I want to visit that mystical place again). No, this post is about something I saw today, something I experienced first-hand, fully-immersed in the experience but always the constant outside observer. Today I saw not the American Dream, but the clawing, fighting, brutal struggle to achieve it, against all odds, through hellish circumstance, desperate attempts to plant personal flags in the fertile soil of our national mythology.

I went with my friend and roommate to Delgado Community College to keep company while she registered for the upcoming semester under the assumption it would take 30 or so minutes. It did not-- it took hours. First we stood in a long line a swelteringly hot room-- these people directed us to another line, even longer, located in a hallway. Upon reaching the front of the hallway line, we were told there was a problem, we could not be helped by these people; to go stand back in the original line. We stood there (it was shorter this time), and upon reaching the front, were directed to a computer where we filled out some online forms. Then we went back to the line, stood in it again for some time, and at the front were handed an index card with the number 26. There were 100 index cards potentially awaiting circulation-- as we tried to find a seat they called number 93. Thus queued, we waited in the sweltering hot room for one tired woman to process the 32 people ahead of us.

As not a post about Laughlin, Nevada this is also not a post about inefficieny, but instead about the people I witnessed and watched as I waited in these lines. Everyone seemed to be undergoing similar troubles, hopping about between these long lines and waiting in this oppressively hot room, and yet... the grumbling was almost non-existant. Yes, of course, there was some overheard here and there in snatches of cellphone conversations and drifting from our own mouths, but over-all... none.

Here were people waiting patiently in this glorious unpleasantness to better themselves, and damn grateful for the opportunity. Here were people struggling to gain the rights to a piece of paper that would allow them the wages necessary to live in their houses, to drive their cars, to pay for the daycares for the children they were forced to bring with them on this particular day. Here were people looking to learn a trade in plumbing or welding, to become a teacher, to become a nurse; to learn actual skills apart from the useless liberal arts, things more important than English literature or film studies.

So I watched these people standing in lines attempting to do what, as Americans, we are trained to do. To improve ourselves, to reach for the stars, to do better in this life than our parents ever had the opportunity to do. Isn't that the American dream.

A close friend of mine told me some years ago that she could explain the ills of our generation, and I think she made quite an argument. Modern American society has always been about outdoing our parents, about being richer and more successful than they ever could, yet, our parents reached the pinnacle. It's impossible now to do better than the parents that run the country, to be more successful or richer than the partners, CEO, politicians who form the upper-middle class that define America. They've tapped out, leaving their children awash at liberal arts colleges without point or purpose, lethargic and broken.

And I agree with that, for the stereotypical America about which it's written. But as for the real America? The one that doesn't run the country but keeps it running? It is far from the truth. There is still room for betterment and improvement. The American dream still exists for the average American, who, as privelage washes down from the upper classes and out amongst the general population, is finally getting a chance.

On the Canal Line

2009-01-09T14:51:00.000-06:00

Every Friday and Saturday I walk down to Veterans Memorial Boulevard and wait for the bus that comes at 8pm. I board the bus and am sometimes the only white face. After 20 or so minutes we arrive at the cemeteries at the base of Canal Boulevard in Orleans Parish where I wait for the Canal Street Car to come and take me into downtown New Orleans. When it arrives I am never the only white face, although sometimes the only white face with anywhere to actually go.

The Canal Line was completed after Hurricane Katrina and comes with a unique line of new red cars. Occasionally one of the green cars traditional to the St. Charles line will be used on this route, and vice versa, but the red and green cars both have their usual niches. I prefer the green cars-- the red cars have been made wheel chair accessible at the expense of aesthetics (although I suppose practicality is more important than beauty), and their seating arrangement, in turn, resembles more a usual city bus than a trolley.

None of this is really the point-- instead, over the past two weeks I have seen two (2) things on this car that have moved me. As follows:

An elderly black man, worn and withered by age, boarded the trolley and sat on the bench-style seats near the front. Several stops later another, much younger black man boarded with his son, around three or four. They were standing in the front of the trolley, next to the elderly man, paying the fare, when the car started with a jolt. The boy stumbled, almost fell. The elderly man, in a natural, habitual way, caught and steadied him. The father, distracted by the operator, hadn't noticed the boy nearly fell nor that he was caught. Once finished in the front, they went and sat down. That was all.

A woman and her son boarded the car. The boy was about 25, 26, challenged-- wearing a pink 'Hannah Montana' sweatshirt designed for, I assume, a pre-teen girl. It was two or three sizes too small, but seemed to make him happy. It was his mother though, that I found the most appealing-- she was in her mid-forties, with the worn, weathered beaten-down face of someone whose lived a hard life of loving something very deeply that was tiring, time-consuming and difficult. I watched her until they departed, both of them waving goodbye to the driver with drama and excitement. I assume they ride that route often-- it is possible they do not.

Sometimes I ponder how I can feel such cynicism and despair at one time and such love and appreciation at another. I usually shrug it off-- it's a wonderful life.

"How're You Doing?": A Response

2009-01-07T14:49:00.002-06:00

Today, via MySpace, I received a curious e-mail. Not curious in content, but in timing and also, perhaps, in directness. It was a message from an estranged comrade, asking simply "How are you?", and including a few words to ensure I recognized sincerity and not some sort of ironic malice.

The inevitability of this text had been with me for some time-- I was fairly certain the message would come sometime, but like death or El Dorado it was "further, always further". To find it suddenly in my inbox was to be taken aback as one always is when distant things are suddenly thrust into the present, but also aback due the the fact that only a few days prior I had thought for a moment about the likelihood of receiving such an e-mail. Another case of Parrallel Synchronized Randomness, I suppose. Unfortunately, for boring and complicated reasons I was unable to reply. So, in optimistic response and for the general populous, this is how I am doing:

I've taken to drinking in excess whenever I choose to drink, and my drug use is ravenous. I look at these things objectively, from the outside looking in, and sense issues might be arising but... my mind usually dissents and things continue normally. I'm in a state of tiredness most of the time, have come to averaging twelve hours a night whenever possible, but that could potentially be explained by the prior issues or by other things, but, quite honestly, it was never that unusual.

Despite the afore-mentioned drug an alcohol intake, my food diet is healthier than it's ever been-- I've almost entirely given up soda and dairy milk, and cut fried foods drastically. I lost almost 30 pounds on the Appalachian Trail-- I've gained 15-20 of those back, but a percentage as muscle, which, as larger people like to say, "...weighs more than fat."

I'm also faced with the possibility of diving headfirst into a live-in S/M relationship with a man in Grand Isle that I am considering despite all the entanglements and complications of my on-the-road lifestyle. I fear I may be overestimating my cleverness, emotional reserve and/or escape ability--

You see, I've purchased a bicycle which I plan on learning to ride as soon as the weather improves and I can find the time-- then I plan on taking it cross country on a series of whimsical missions a friend of mine is devising. I'm staying with her in Metairie until after Mardi Gras, as I've committed myself to work at the Ohm Lounge 'til that point. Metairie is... awful, and I'm in a state of continual restlessness that finds me endlessly surfing travel sites and reading travel books and perusing my old road trip photos.

Reading back over this, I think it may be the most honest account of my general well-being I've ever written.

Update: 2009

2009-01-04T21:18:00.002-06:00

There is no internet anymore-- it has gone away. I will post several things... sometime. Anyway, hope everyone had a lovely holiday season.

Regrets, Reports and Resolutions

2009-01-01T18:30:00.001-06:00

It is a new year for America and for it's people, the final of a decade that held not the promises of 'millennium' but of decay and back-steps and heartless despair. We stood hopeless at the edge of a precipice. We still stand at the edge of a precipice, now with the audacity to hope. I am not audacious enough to hope we improve, because I don't think we will; let others dream those dreams that may better suit their disposition. I think we are like herds of cattle stampeding towards a cliff-face, an unstoppable force of blind, collective motion-- we believed in change and turned our backs on freedom. We want what we are not willing to work towards-- we are blind, selfish, greedy, cruel. I have not the audacity to hope we can stop. I barely have the audacity to hope we do not fall.

2008 was a year of great upheaval in my own life, as I spent the most of the year in this new state of nomadacy. The vagabond life, it suits... I like it, and do not regret giving up homes and careers and automobiles to pursue it. The edge of society, barely scraping by is far more satisfying than rat races and offices and lethargy ever were. But in 2009, I am changing even more.

Great changes are coming into my life. I am in Louisiana now working on a project that will be like a guiding hand through the remainder of this great journey I am on. A mission...a quest, per se. It will, I believe, make all of this more entertaining to witness and more entertaining to live. We will see, I suppose. A mission statement and more information on this will follow in the coming months.

And finally, a resolution. I have bought a bicycle. I will learn to ride it. I have waited long enough-- I am tired of the curious looks I receive when I reveal I don't have this most basic of skills. It cannot be that hard-- knees and elbows be damned. Cameron del Mar the Second, you will carry me places, by God, or places I will not go.

May your 2009 be filled with endless optimism and joy. Happy trails.

On Missing Trains

2008-12-26T20:18:00.001-06:00

Of all the stories posted here-in, this is perhaps the one of which I am least proud. Stories of drugged and drunken exploits come with moderate bragging rights, travel tales have their own appeal, but this is a tragedy of hubris and stupidity of which I am ashamed. To begin, some back ground information:

The Amtrak passenger train City of New Orleans passes through Newbern, Tennessee on it's north-south run from Chicago to New Orleans. My family live a bit more than an hour from Newbern and when traveling home for a visit this train is the most comfortable, most cost-efficient and generally the easiest mode of transport. I have ridden this train several times and boarded and exited at this station each time.

So, poised to board the train early in the morning of December 26th me and my father (a semi-driver for more than 35 years) arrived at the station, watched a few freight trains pass, and ascertained that the the tracks to our left headed north and the tracks to the right headed south. We were so sound in our knowledge that when an Amtrak passenger train came rolling up at precisely the time my New Orleans-bound train was scheduled to arrive, that we watched it stop, watched passengers deboard, and watched it roll away certain in our sense of cardinal directions and positive that that train had come from New Orleans and was headed to Chicago.

Newbern is an unmanned station, so there was no one to ask as to how late my train was going to be. We did however ask one of recently exited passengers from where she originated. When she said Chicago, I stared at her disbelievingly, then stared at the tracks and realized that we had been wrong. I had missed the train, or rather, mistook the train, which is probably just as bad.

Deeply shamed, me and my father were. We studied the tracks for a while and decided that even if we were wrong, we were wrong in the most logical way and that our wrong assumption was the easiest assumption to make. We drove away, cursing the silly train for traveling north to south in such a haphazard way. Pride cometh before the fall-- I boarded the train later in the week and arrived safely back in the Crescent City.

Merry Christmas from the Family

2008-12-24T18:29:00.004-06:00

I made a half-hearted attempt to avoid the annual pilgrimage to Clarksburg, Tennessee for Christmas festivities, because these types of things always tend to seem far more unpleasant while they approach than when they actually arrive. It was a quiet bit of welcome respite.

Behold! Photos:

with William Arvel Woods

Will and Mary Woods

Nate Moore

Amelia Vestal

Matriarchs

"What things these days..."

Nephews

And to all, a Merry Christmas.

Red Bull Gives You Wings

2008-12-14T19:12:00.002-06:00

It is like a slow ascent to consciousness, like floating up from the bottom of the sea towards the sky above. You realize that you are cold, but you don't know what you can do about it. Next, you realize that you are walking, but it seems natural so you continue. Then it dawns on you that you are outside, but that doesn't seem odd. Finally you come to your senses and realize, with regret and shock, that you haven't the slightest idea where you are. You're wandering around outside, without a jacket, in what appears to be a random suburb filled with unfamiliar houses. This is not your suburb.

You check yourself. You're fairly clean and dry, so you've been on your feet the entire time-- luckily no rolling around in the dewy grass of someone's front yard. You see a Picayune on the ground and are thankful that you are assumedly still in the New Orleans Metro Area. You pick it up and check the date: Sunday. This is right, last night was Saturday. Check your pockets-- your phone is gone. You have your ID, a debit card, and one single dollar. Hope you didn't go to any ATMs whilst you were blacked out.

You pull your arms into your shirt and shiver and walk, and you curse yourself and your situation, staring around dully in disbelief. Finally you stumble onto Veteran's Boulevard, but you're on the south side and far too west. You go into a gas station, looking a fright, and get twenty dollars out of an ATM. You stumble into a nearby sports bar, call a cab, and have a beer while you wait.

You get home and learn several things: you gave your phone to your friend before disappearing, assumedly into a cab. You left the bar around five-- you came to around nine. During four unaccounted hours you spent thirty nine of the forty dollars you don't remember getting out of the ATM. Theoretically, that money went to the cab driver that dumped you in the middle of nowhere. You also realize you don't remember any of the five (5) drinks, four of which were bought for you, you had at the bar before abruptly leaving. Mystery somewhat solved, you cancel all plans for the day and crash hard and long into your bed.

This friends, is a shining example of the absolute empirical evil that is Red Bull. When mixed with vodka, it produces a delicious concoction that will try it's hardest to kill you. While straight booze/beer/wine will dull your mind and body and eventually leave you passed out on the floor/couch/pool table/wherever, Red Bull and vodka will only dull your mind, keeping your body sprightly and alert so that it leaps joyfully into autopilot while your mind passes into shadow.

Experiences don't lie; you have been warned.

Smells like a wet dog...

2008-12-12T19:11:00.001-06:00

I see plenty of bad movies, in theaters and out, and am not always inspired to write a missive of them, but with Slumdog Millionaire I think it important I do. The film is, to say the least, well received. It's garnered several year-end critics prizes and Golden Globe nominations, it has a 93% approval rating on Rotten Tomato (for comparison, Milk also has 93%, Doubt has 76% and Australia a mere 53%) and won the Audience Award at the Toronto Film Festival. The film seems poised to walk headfirst into several Oscar nominations once they are announced and I stand back, aghast, at all this critical praise for such a terrible film. Here is a film almost as awful as it's title, and there will be a backlash. Here is this year's Crash. I want it known I was against it from the first, and didn't jump aboard once it became trendy.

Let me point out that I went in predisposed to pleasure-- you're looking at a Danny Boyle fan. Trainspotting. 28 Days Later. Millions. These are all good films (okay, Trainspotting is a great film, but this is not a post about that.) Yet here... here he has the most simplistic, nonsense, annoying, stupid story to tell and despite abundant style and beautiful, kinetic location shooting he can't rise above it.

Here is a film about a poor slumdog from the streets of Mumbai whose destiny is to reunite and live happily ever after with a girl from his youth. Throw in the fact that the girl is kept by gangsters, one of which is the slumdog's brother and that can either add a level of intrigue and emotional resonance to the whole affair or turn it pedestrian, either way, still not ridiculous. Now let's mix in the fact that the boy's destiny leads him to the Indian version of 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire' so that... the girl can see him on TV and come to the studio and find him. Ehh, okay... a film with a stupid premise can still prevail. This one doesn't.

For starters, the structure is annoying. The boy is being interrogated and tortured because officials are certain he cheated to get as far as he did on the game show. Of course he didn't and he explains in flashback how destiny gave him the exact answers to the exact questions he would be asked. This could work with a little finesse and subtlety, but instead we seem hammered down by the fact that DESTINY HAS BROUGHT HIM HERE! He is asked who invented the revolver-- cut to a scene where his brother threatens him with a Colt. He's asked a question about a Bollywood movie star-- this leads to an anecdote where he falls into a pay toilet and runs about covered in shit. Oh destiny, you wily muse! The editing of the question and the answer so deliberately draws attention to the destiny device, which can't sustain much scrutiny.

So, the destiny angle doesn't work and grows extremely tedious extremely fast. It goes unanswered how he passed the preliminary exams to get on the show, or what posseses him to even try-- however, I'm not sure the film realizes it leaves him no motivation. There's a curious scene in an office building where he seems poised to call the show... but instead calls his brother, who, as earlier stated, is a gangster. The gangster episodes seem as though someone owns copies of Boyz N the Hood and Scarface and keeps them on continuous loop until they are engrained in the psyche permanently. No one in these scenes behaves plausibly at any time. Consider, as an example, a scene where the brother climbs into a bathtub filled with cash to be shot down in a barrage of gunfire. Why? Metaphor, I suppose.

What this film needs is a nice shot of whimsy and some common sense. Boyle never satisfyingly works together the juxtaposition of the harsh environment with the fairy tale story, and that handicaps him fatally. And it doesn't help that the destiny/romance plot line is SO SO SO predictable and uninvolving. I couldn't get behind anything I was seeing on the screen. There's no way such fluff could generate real emotions and the film is far to high-minded to adequately manipulate them. I think Boyle wanted to create something about how hope can survive in the harshest of places, a lovely little piece that would show the dark underbelly of extreme poverty and make it accessible to the masses through a charming against-all-odds romance. Epic fail, Mr. Boyle.

These characters! Dev Patel plays the lead boy with all the charisma of a wet mop. He has one expression-- put-upon, and watching him trying to act his way through is like chasing a deer through the woods with a meat cleaver. Frieda Pinto, as the girl, is stunningly lovely, yet hopelessly stupid and vapid. The brother character is nothing mre than a plot device used to elicit emotional responses from the hero. He has no motivations, no desires, no anything. Just cue cards reading 'maudlin', 'vile', and 'irritating' to which he imitates in accordance. And the host of the show makes Regis Philbin look like Oscar Wilde.

Oh. My. God. This film is just awful-- trite, stupid and, worst of all, boring. And the fact that it's receiving such praise is baffling. I know it's been a hard year, with a brutal election and an endless war and a downward-spiraling economy and everyone wants to be heart-warmed, or at least reminded that there are people worse off than they are, but seriously, this year also brought us Wall-E and Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day... hell, even Funny Games was more pleasant than this.

Two Days Before the Day After Tomorrow

2008-12-11T08:50:00.004-06:00

I don't like the snow. It's really cold and wet and dirty and altogether unpleasant. I've spent a fair amount of energy avoiding it. So when I was awoken from my slumber this morning to the excited cries of "It's Snowing!! It's Snowing!!" I automatically thought "I'm in New Orleans. You are a liar. Stop shouting." Unfortunately, they were not wicked lies. It was really snowing. In New Orleans. WTF?

And not just a little snow, (Okay, maybe just a little snow when compared to places like Chicago or Long Island, but for SE Louisiana?) but at least a wet, slushy inch of wet miserable white all over everything. And then, later in the day, it started to sleet. I don't know who to blame... so I'm pointing my finger at global warming. It's up to you Al Gore and Dennis Quaid! Save us. It's cold out there.

Ian's First Snow

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Palm trees are NOT native to SE Louisiana

Snow Angels

Cameron del Mar the Second

2008-12-10T14:06:00.004-06:00

Cameron del Mar was a delightful animal, a cat of wonders and joy. He is gone now, but his memory lives on...in this shiny new Schwinn I've purchased to ride about the countryside. At first, I wasn't going to name the bike after the cat, but, lo and behold, this is a del Mar Schwinn. It says it right there on the side. It is destiny that this bike be mine, to look after me when Cameron cannot.

Hopefully, the owning of the bike will promptly inspire the learning to ride of it. Because I don't know how. And I've only been able to practice indoors, because the weather is shitty. Raindrops keep falling on my head...

Dear Austin:

2008-12-07T16:44:00.003-06:00

Oh, Austin... there's no place quite like you. The aggressively liberal capital of the biggest and strongest of the red states, filled with your free wheeling, unfriendly, mostly effeminate, "let's change the world" folks. Anything goes in you, Austin!! You keep it weird. You are incredibly pretensious and more judgmental than you would ever, ever admit, but you are a lot of fun. You have, probably, the largest, most vibrant independent music scene in the country. You are also home to the massive University of Texas. Both of those go a long way to explaining precisely what is so wrong with you, because there are few things more insufferable than indie musicians and college students. Unfortunately, they are also the basis of everything that is so right.

The sheer volume of delicious eateries, music venues, bars, coffee houses, music stores, indie video parlors, green spaces, organic and vegan markets and vintage shops couldn't exist without the unique mixture of people who inhabit you. You are very fun, Austin. There are many reasons to recommend you. For a visit, you are top notch. To live in you would require a complete lifestyle change and a world-view akin to a Kerouac novel. You are very accepting, Austin, as long as everyone is just as offbeat as everyone else. When I'm tired and hungry and broke, Austin, I don't give a rats ass if something is eco-friendly or local. When I have money, sure, but you require a devotion that I personally do not have. Thank you, Austin. I've enjoyed my time here. But now, it's time to go.

Devil Town

Texas State Capital

University of Texas

I'm going back to New Orleans, Austin. Right now, I feel like that is both where I need and want to be. You know New Orleans, Austin, don't you? I'm sure... your aggressive campaign to become quirky seems like a thinly veiled attempt to emulate that wonderful place. But there's one major difference. New Orleans exists, for the most part, in the real world. Hurricane Katrina made sure of that. You, Austin, live in a late-60s super-liberal bubble of pipe dreams and lost causes. You are a delight, Austin, but reality is also swell. Come join us, won't you?

How Far We've Come

2008-12-05T16:46:00.005-06:00

I'll say very little about the technical and cinematic qualities of Gus Van Sant's film, Milk. It is a good movie, probably as good as you expect it to be and maybe a little more. It represents a return to mainstream cinema for Van Sant, but not a surrender to it. The indie spirit still occasionally shines through. It contains very strong work from Sean Penn, James Franco and Josh Brolin, possibly the best work of any of their careers, and they are all very likely Oscar contenders. As a film, it is very successful.

As a cultural statement it is enraging and a more than a little disappointing. The major conflict of the film (and of Milk's political career) is a campaign to prevent anti-discrimination laws in California that prevent teachers from being fired based on sexual orientation from being overturned. The campaign succeeded, and the laws stayed. However, the film deals with this development in a bit of muted joy, probably for two reasons-- the first is that it has an assassination to hurry on to and the second is that Van Sant realizes what a hollow victory it really was.

You won't learn this from the film, but today, right now, in 2008 in the United States there are still thirty (30) states where someone can legally lose their job simply for being a homosexual.

Read that again. That is more than half of the country. And, of course, that doesn't include the vicious 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' military policies endorsed by the federal government. And the gay marriage debacle, which came to a head when the citizens of California deemed they could take away constitutionally granted rights from homosexuals by passing Proposition 8.

That is infuriating. Imagine a child asks for a coat to wear on a snowy day. You tell it no and send it off to school. It gets used to the cold. Now imagine you gave the child a coat, sat it outside in the snow for a moment and then took the coat away. That child will revolt against you. If you show someone the light and then close them off from it, their wanting will be your end.

Where was Milk prior to November 4th? Oliver Stone's ineffectual W. was rushed out prior to the elections in hopes it could make a difference. But that project was too soon, too current to have an impact. History will judge Bush in 30 years, once the facts are in, in ways far different than the present may judge him now. But Milk? Milk could have had an impact. Yet... it was delayed, coming out instead in the midst of awards season. Ironically, it's good enough it would have been remembered had it come out in October. What a wasted opportunity.

Proposition 8 is government sanctioned bigotry, propelled by religions that have subjugated and oppressed since their inceptions. There are thorny political topics out there, where many different views must be considered (immigration, abortion). Gay marriage is not one of them. If you oppose gay marriage, you are a bigot. If you say it 'destroys the American family' you are a bigot and a liar. If you believe it actually has any affect on the American family at all, I'll join you in a march in favor of criminalizing divorce. I'll join you on a march forcing heterosexual couples to procreate. And if you oppose gay marriage on religious grounds, you're a brain-washed bigot with no sense of irony.

Speaking of a sense of irony, seeing how California has taken away civil rights, I have a new plan to get the country out of recession. Let's re-enslave African Americans. Forcing them back into chains will quickly and decisively cut down on the business expenses of banks, auto-makers, and corporations. Afterwards, a campaign to take the vote away from women.

Wednesday is national 'Day Without A Gay', where homosexuals are encouraged to call in gay from work and instead volunteer for GLBT rights. They are also encouraged to only support GLBT friendly businesses. I suppose civil disobedience is a justifiable response-- I'll be participating. But kindness can only get you so far. As 70s activists cried, "Civil Liberties or Civil War". We will not roll over without a fight.

And finally, to all you closeted, discreet, 'straight' guys out there who troll Craigslist and gay bars, fuck you. Fuck you all. It's your cowardice that has allowed decades of injustice to your own people, whether you accept them as so or not. You are fearful little children whose timidity and terror have caused the Stonewall riots, the White Night riots, killed Brandon Teena and Matthew Shepard and allowed Proposition Eight to pass. You should be beaten out of the closet. Grow some balls and be a man, don't just blow one.

The truth comes out...

2008-12-04T17:41:00.001-06:00

Thanks to Jeana Richard for the photo.

By the way, I'm coming home to you.

Current Obsession: The Films of Werner Herzog

2008-12-03T07:06:00.005-06:00

Herzog on the set of Fitzcarraldo

Werner Herzog has made two or three films that are as close to perfection as the cinema comes, several other films that are fine, at least one film that is just plain bad and no films that I wish I had never seen. His films are strange, often times descents into madness-- they create strange moods in those who see them. They tend to feature men at odds with overpowering environments. They are unlike the films of anyone else.

My favorite is, without doubt, Aguirre, the Wrath of God. It is, I think, one of the greatest of all films, without an off-putting moment. It reaches heights of perfection that most filmmakers only dream about. It centers on a failed mission into the Amazon in search of the fabled El Dorado. It ends with one of the most memorable sequences I've ever seen as Klaus Kinski rages alone on a raft covered with chattering monkeys, making plans for world conquest whilst floating down the river to his demise.

Kinski worked with Herzog on four other films, including Woyzeck (about the dehumanizing effect of society on an unstable young soldier), Fitzcarraldo (about a man who yearns to drag a steamship over a mountain in order to bring opera to the darkness of the rain forest), and Nosferatu (the remake of the classic silent Dracula film). Although it's almost a supporting role, my favorite of the Kinski performances is in Nosferatu-- where he combines the beastiality and sensuality of the vampire in ways that are haunting and unforgettable. It is, in fact, the best thing about that film, otherwise unremarkable, mainly a failure because it chained Herzog to a steadfast plot, something he otherwise tends to avoid in pursuit of transcendence.

Kinski as Dracula in Nosferatu

Fitzcarraldo is another film that suffers due to a plot that seems out of Herzog's comfort range. He seems to work best with stories that center on men failing to overcome the oppressive environments they find themselves. When Fitzcarraldo succeeds-- when he drags the ship over the mountain and then rides to glory down the river with his phonograph blaring the music of Caruso, it strikes one of the falsest notes in the Herzog canon.

If his work with Klaus Kinski provides the most recognizable films in his filmography, his work with other actors may provide the best performances. Consider his films with Bruno S. (The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser, Stroszeck) or Eva Mattes (Stroszeck, Woyzeck).

The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser, about a man locked in a dark cellar since birth who is suddenly and mysteriously released into a society that baffles him, is the director's second greatest work. In it, Bruno S. gives a performance that is heartbreaking and poetic. He played a similar character in Stroszeck, an equally compelling film that is hampered a bit by it's determined off-beatedness. It's a strange film about an ex-convict, an old man, and a prostitute who move to Wisconsin to live in a trailer home. It says a great deal about the dreams of American immigrants in unexpected and sometimes curious ways.

In Stroszeck, Eva Mattes, an understated, earthy beauty, plays the prostitute. She plays a similar character in Woyzeck, where she won a much deserved Best Supporting Actress prize at Cannes. You won't find acting better than her work her anywhere else.

Mattes and Kinski in Woyzeck

He chose actors not so much for their obvious talents, but for the way they could embody characters. He wanted people in roles that would require them to act very little and mostly respond as they naturally would. That gives his fiction films a documentary quality-- he matched that by giving his documentary films a sometimes fictional slant. Consider in Little Dieter Needs to Fly, about an ex-POW, how some of the actions of Dieter were improvised on the spot to get his point across. He also made the exceptional Grizzly Man, about a man who believed he could live unharmed with bears and My Best Fiend, about his turbulent relationship with Kinski.

Then, there's Fata Morgana, one of the more curious films in his canon. Theoretically a documentary on mirages, it combines stunning and hallucinatory shots of the Sahara desert with a curious performance in a music parlor, the Mayan creation myth, a sea turtle, and songs by Leonard Cohen. It isn't like anything you've seen before. Good or bad doesn't seem to even apply to it-- it feels less like a motion picture and more like an object or an idea. Some may find it boring or insufferable. I found it fascinating.

That is not to say that Herzog cannot make a boring or insufferable film. He made Heart of Glass, a fiction film about a small village with a glass blowing factory. The foreman dies, taking the secret of 'Ruby Glass' with him. The town sinks into despair and eventually madness. The film itself is maddening, combining long, irritating narration depicting the end of days with odd behaviors and actions by actors under hypnosis. (Apparently, all the actors aside from the lead performed under hypnosis to better exemplify the descent into insanity.) The plot gets brutally pushed aside to make room for the oddities, which quickly become dull.

His best known film, by virtue of it's star, Christian Bale, is probably Rescue Dawn, a fictional retelling of Dieter Dengler (of Little Dieter Needs to Fly) and his time in the jungle. Bale lost a great deal of weight, whittling himself down to a skeletal frame (something he does with some regularity, however), Steve Zahn provides a powerhouse supporting performance, and the film brought Herzog's unique style to a new generation. Rescue Dawn is one of the better films of this decade.

Herzog on the set of Rescue Dawn

Eye Candy: Hugh Jackman

2008-12-01T16:43:00.003-06:00

It's official... Australia is just another flop for Nicole Kidman. Poor girl; she just can't open a movie. But don't let that keep you from seeing it. It's just like Margot at the Wedding or Cold Mountain or Dogville or The Interpreter in that it's just delightful. Really, it is. It's gloriously old-fashioned-- half '30s Western and half '50s war movie, with a strong line of The African Queen and Gone with the Wind providing a backbone and The Wizard of Oz there for thematics. Really, it basks in that kind of operatic ecstasy that Baz Luhrmann is known for. Nicole Kidman does her best Katherine Hepburn for the first half and her best Vivien Leigh for the rest. It truly is something special.

And Hugh Jackman isin it, too, doing his very best Humphrey Bogart and being rugged and gritty and all the while having a big ole heart of gold. He was recently named People magazine's 'sexiest guy alive'... sometimes I think he looks like a toad. And often times he has really unfortunate hair. And I'm bored with him playing Wolverine. But in Australia? Well, in Australia he earns the title.

For Vulcan Video

2008-11-28T15:00:00.004-06:00

I filled out an e-mail job application pre-screening today to work in an independent video store. I doubt I'll get the job and doubt less I even want it (it's far away and I think I'm leaving Austin soon), but I worked so hard on and was so enamored with my answers I thought it was a waste for them to only be seen by the management of a video store. So, behold! I share.

1. What is your favorite film genre/movement/country? I'm really attracted to the group of up and coming young directors from Central and South America, including Walter Salles, Fernando Mereilles, Guillermo del Toro, Alfonso Cuaron and Alejandro Inarritu. The first two are Brazilian and the latter three Mexican, but I believe they're kicking down the barriers holding back foreign language films in America have united them and made that particular region a hotbed of creativity. I don't always like the films they make (I wasn't fond of The Motorcycle Diaries or Blindness or Babel) but they are always fascinating to watch. And some of the best films this decade have come from these directors (Children of Men, 21 Grams, City of God, The Constant Gardener), and some of the most popular (Harry Potter 3, Pan's Labyrinth).

2. What was the last movie you saw and what did you think of it? The last movie I saw was 'The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser' and it's a favorite of mine. I think it is probably Werner Herzog's best film, and I think this particular Bruno S. performance is one of the best in movie history.

3. Name 1 movie or director that you hate and explain why. I hate Paul Haggis because he thinks I'm an idiot. And he thinks you're an idiot, too. And he's tarnished Clint Eastwood. Paul Haggis has all the subtlety of a bullet to the face and thinks that you won't 'get' his movies unless he takes his message and jams it down you throat. Consider 'In the Valley of Elah' and 'Flags of Our Fathers' where people are constantly, constantly, CONSTANTLY berating Charlize Theron and Adam Beach for being a woman and a Native American, respectively. And look at the redneck family in 'Million Dollar Baby', who were so mustache-twirling evil they belonged in a 'Dudley Do-Right cartoon. Paul Haggis believes in real-world villains, which is nonsense. Despite what 'Crash' tried to teach us with it's ridiculous 'racism is easy to spot and very, very bad' tutorial, 'black and white' shouldn't be tolerated-- in what purports to be a realistic, serious film . Everything is a grey area. And his issue movies don't seem to know that. Instead, they just 'screech' to the choir in loud, obnoxious, unpleasant ways.

4. What has been your favorite movie this year? 'Synecdoche, New York'

5. Why do you want to work at Vulcan Video? I'm a big movie fan, it's not a soul-sucking corporate entity, and I think I'd be pretty damn good at it.

6. Create a triple feature based on one of the following themes: Let's do Jack Black buddy comedies. Him and Mos Def in 'Be Kind Rewind' and two supporting roles, him chumming up to John Cusack in 'High Fidelity' and Billy Crudup in 'Jesus' Son'. The latter two may not count as strictly 'buddy comedies', but the scenes involving Black in both movies stick pretty strictly to the buddy comedy genre requirements: an odd couple either comically bickering in an everyday setting and an odd couple comically bickering on a wacky adventure.

Happy Thanksgiving

2008-11-27T21:57:00.000-06:00

It's Thanksgiving, so to celebrate, I've decided to fill out one of those 'getting to know you' surveys that always wind up in my inbox. Normally, I just delete them (hint, hint), but this one being holiday-themed, I opted to give it a shot.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper. Oh, god, wrapping paper!! There's nothing like tearing into a box like a rabid dog and throwing shreds of non-recyclable paper over your shoulder so it falls down like snow. Fuck being green, that shit is fun!!!

2. Real tree or Artificial? If it's someone else's house, they should have a real tree. If it's my house, an artificial one because I don't like dealing with the mess.

3. When do you put up the tree? Umm... December 10th.

4. When do you take the tree down? December 25th, at about 9:30pm.

5. Do you like eggnog? With booze? Sure.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? The first television to go in my bedroom. I disappeared for days.

7. Hardest person to buy for? My father, who never wants anything.

9. Do you have a nativity scene? No.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Snail mail cards. That's the only way to go. If you're sending digital Christmas cards you may as well just send e-mails that say 'I'm the laziest person you know.'

11.Worst Christmas gift you ever received? The worst Halloween gift I ever got was mono. I'm not sure about Christmas...

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? Die Hard

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? When I'm actually buying gifts? Towards the middle of November.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Yes. More than once, actually.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Pie

16. Lights on the tree? Yes. Clear lights.

17. Favorite Christmas song? Hmmm... 'All I Want for Christmas is You' by Mariah Carey, 'New Heart for Christmas' by Kill Hannah, 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas' by Judy Garland

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Travel.

19. Can you name all 9 of Santa's reindeer's? No.

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Depends on the rest of the tree...

21. Open the presents Christmas eve or Christmas day? Christmas eve

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? The weather.

23. Favorite ornament theme or color? Navy and silver.

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? Pie... the answer is always pie!

25. What do you want for Christmas this year? Honestly? 7,000 dollars.

Happy Turkey Day, everybody.

"Take Me Back Outside"

2008-11-21T05:45:00.009-06:00

So, I finally got to see Conor Oberst live. I came close twice in New Orleans and again in Knoxville, but neither time panned out. Everything worked out in Austin. Do you want to see the pictures I took?

I guess everyone needs a vacation sometimes, and my camera decided that Friday would be it. The video I took was also extremely disappointing, with horrid sound quality and blurry images. But, I remember the show fondly. It was, almost, a perfect show and, without a doubt, the best I've seen in ages (well, at least since May).

It was barely hampered by the fact that it was at an outdoor venue and that it was in the forties. It was barely hampered by the fact that the first of two opening acts was, inexplicably, a hip-hop band that combined overwrought lyrics with hipster '80s nostalgia pretension. It was aided immeasurably by the fact that the second opening act was the Felice Brothers, who put on such a stupendous show that I went home and downloaded their album and have since listened to it several times.

And then there was Conor, performing here as 'Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band' in support of the Conor Oberst self-titled CD, which I delight in. However, he seems to want to put a great distinction between 'Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band' and 'Bright Eyes', and thus, at this show, performed no Bright Eyes songs that I recognized. It is possible some of the filler tracks were Bright Eyes B-sides, but I doubt it. I think they were unreleased tracks from the self-titled album, since no one else in the audience seemed familiar with them either.

But anyway, delight in these videos, which aren't my own (since mine were awful), nor are they from the Austin show...but they're essentially the same thing.

The Felice Brothers

Proving that sometimes he performs both Bright Eyes standards and Mystic Valley new material

Souled Out!!

Kicking and Screaming Out of the Closet

2008-11-19T22:13:00.003-06:00

I'm tottering somewhere between amusement, outrage and satisfaction. I have just been told that I'm not gay enough. To work in a gay bar. As security.

Well, they didn't say it quite like that. They were kinder. They told me that they didn't like to hire straight guys because they seldom worked out very well in the high-volume, sometimes handsy atmosphere. I nodded, although I was a bit confused as to why this information was being presented. Then we talked about my experience and whether I had any past gay bar experience. Of course I had, in DC, at the Eagle, but since that was such a short gig and not even listed on my application I left it out. I instead turned the focus to Ohm in New Orleans, which is, unfortunately, straight.

After a few more needling, back-handed searching remarks it became clear that they thought I was some recession-driven, economically desperate straight boy willing to do anything for a job. So I had to come out of the closet, again, and prove that I was really an only moderately desperate gay boy who would do anything for a job granted it didn't involve a background check (They always come back negatively due to discrepancies with my tax returns and my registered addresses and my job history. That's the major problem with transient wanderings). Well, I burst forth from the closet and was met with... skepticism. They didn't believe me... they pretended to, as not to be rude, but clearly they thought I was a opportunistic heterosexual pining for a part-time gig. Stupid beard, I blame you for this...

Oilcan Harry's claims to be the most popular club in Austin, gay or straight, and for all I know that is true. It certainly seemed way to nelly to be a place I would want to hang out on the weekends, but maybe in Austin effeminate heterosexuals flock there with the fags to escape the pretentious stench of Lone Star-drenched hole in the wall indie clubs. I have no idea. I do know that they called me back and told me that they would keep my application but could not offer me a position at this time.

When supporting anti-discrimination laws based on sexual orientation, this is not the situation I imagined. I feel like I just went to California and tried to buy a marriage licence ... only to be turned away because they didn't think I was an American citizen.

Semi-Charmed Kinda Life: Lessons from the Weekend

2008-11-16T17:35:00.002-06:00

Things I learned this weekend:

*If you smoke crystal meth out of a water bong that is filled with orange juice, you avoid that awful 'meth mouth' taste that dries you out and makes you feel icky.

*The quality of cocaine in Austin, Texas is a great deal higher than the quality of cocaine in New Orleans, Louisiana. It's cheaper, too.

*If you're screwing around with a guy in a long-term relationship and his boyfriend in turns gets a crush on you, issues arise. It's probably best to avoid these types of things.

*Poppers and blindfolds will make you lose your mind. Not in a good way, either. In a 'HOLY FUCK WHERE THE HELL AM I AND WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?!?' kind of way.

*It's fun to steal hardcore pornography from annoying gay Republican suburbanites, even if you really don't have any need for the porn. Also, apparently, gay Republican suburbanites are some of the kinkiest people you will ever meet, and have plenty of accessories and toys and the best porn ever (until you steal it).

*If you check into a hotel with an incompetent staff after night audit, you're likely to get a free night. Or maybe it just really is America's Best Value Inn...

*Cialis works. Really well. For a long time.

*Meth is not as glorious as it seems, and returning to it after more than a year's absence is a bit underwhelming. Somehow, when I've done it in the past it's had a much more pleasurable effect. This weekend was just kind of blah... but it could have been the company and not the chemicals.

*It's not a 'walk of shame' if you leave on Friday afternoon and stumble in on Tuesday morning... It's a 'miracle you're alive'.

*You can always find trouble if you know where to look, no matter where you are or how long you've been there.

And finally...

*Drugs are bad, sleep is good, and truer words were never spoken.

Synecdoche, New York

2008-11-14T17:34:00.005-06:00

Synecdoche: ("si-nek-duh-kee") a part of something that is used to refer to the whole thing, or vice versa, such as "His parents bought him a new set of wheels [car]." or "Michigan [the government of Michigan] just passed a law addressing this problem.". Here, "set of wheels" is used to denote the entire car and "Michigan" is used to denote only the state's elected officials. All this information was gathered thanks to the questionably sourced folks over at Wikipedia.

So, with the mysteries of the title cleared up, what is the film about? The film is about life and the grand structure of things, about that unclenchable sadness that lurks beneath the surface of every face because we are all marching towards our deaths. It's about tiny victories and larger, unseen failures. About things we lose and things we cling to, about the way people come and go and the ways we see their actions through a funnel that projects mostly just ourselves out onto the universe. It's about mortality and ambition and desire.

It's about life and all the things that make us human. It is a whimsical fantasy, a deep and true emotional drama, a masterpiece. I fully expect this to emerge as the best film of the year.

It is, I think, Charlie Kaufman's best film, and also, possibly, his most personal-- here he directs for the first time, as opposed to simply scripting. It isn't as willfully quirky as Adaptation or Being John Malkovich, dosn't have any unnecessary subplots like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind... everything here adds to the effect, creates an alternate reality that is fantastical and mundane simultaneously.

This is quite a film... three times in the first half I found myself overwhelmed emotionally by what was on the screen. After the showing, I went for a long, contemplative, aimless walk.

A great deal of praise must go to the actors: Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Catherine Keener, Samantha Morton, Michelle Williams, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Dianne West-- not a bad actor in the bunch and not an off-key performance in the film. Yes, the actors are great, but this is Kaufman's show.

He's made a film about death-- as all life is essentially about death. If you didn't know you were going to die, how would you know you were alive? I find myself at a loss. Describing the film is like describing rain, or wind, or music. The essence is elusive and everything panders down into worthless philosophizing. I look back over what I've written and realize that this will fail to make anyone want to see the film. But, seriously, see this film. It's a spiritual experience.

This film is unbearable and beautiful and deeply sad and absolutely wonderful. Life's like that.

Fun Fun Fun

2008-11-09T02:14:00.005-06:00

Today was the final day of the annual Fun Fun Fun Festival at Waterloo Park across from the University of Texas campus. It's an indie rock/punk/comedy festival, fairly small but jam-packed with live fun.

I saw several bands whom I enjoyed (up to a point... no one demanded I run to the merchandise tent and buy their album or log on to ITunes and download anything) including St. Vincent, DOA, and another band whose name escapes me entirely. The official Fun Fun Fun Fest website in turn offers little help either.

So, the bands were generally just okay, but the comedy stage was nice. That's where I saw Dragon Boy Suede (shown above), the rapping alter-ego of comic Howard Kremer. He was followed by Tim and Eric Awesome Show, doing a live version of the things they do weekly on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim. Unfortunately, on stage they floundered, trapped in a format that was inappropriate to support them.

In all, it was a fine day. The weather was lovely (even if the grounds were a bit dusty) , dinner afterwards (at Kerby Lane, an Austin institution) was fabulous, and falling deeper into the intoxicating music scene here in the capital of Texas was a joy.

Manifest Destiny

2008-11-06T18:23:00.005-06:00

I'm in Austin now, having rode west into that big Texas sky, over those dark and melancholy plains beneath that marvelous sunset... Into the west.

"...West is where we all plan to go someday. It is where you go when the land gives out and the old-field pines encroach. It is where you go when you get the letter saying: Flee, all is discovered. It is where you go when you look down at the blade in your hand and see the blood on it. It is where you go when you are told that you are a bubble on the tide of empire. It is where you go when you hear that thar's gold in them-thar hills. It i where you go to grow up with the country. It is where you go to spend your old age. Or it is just where you go." -- Robert Penn Warren

It's manifest destiny, isn't it? That most American of principals. To take the call and move across the continent and stare in sublime pleasure at that great obstacle of an ocean that finally prevents any additional westward expansion.

I'm not there yet. I'm in the middle ground, where the land is sad and flat and vast. Between the ridges and the river. Where the dark and the quiet permeate. Where man is dwarfed by the immensity of all that surrounds him-- where men are men and people are people because in such an epic place there is nothing else to be. There is nowhere to hide.

What will I do here? Doesn't matter. I am on my way.

The Immeasurable Sadness of Election Day

2008-11-04T08:55:00.003-06:00

After careful consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I no longer care who wins this election. Yes, in a perfect world it would be Barack Obama (and all signs suggest that this may, in fact, be a perfect world), but I suppose I could live with a McCain presidency, as long as he didn't die in office. But what I really want, I have decided, is for this campaign to go on indefinitely, for what a long, strange trip it's been.

For instance, who is this John McCain person that's been forced down our throats? Whatever happened to the old John McCain that I respected last year? If McCain wins, will he go back to being himself, or will he remain the surly, cloistered creature he's been forced to become by, I assume, his campaign coordinators, who have so carefully scripted him in fear of gaffes that the poor man may as well be paraded around in a straight jacket? Or have they cloned him, and the decent McCain is tied up in a basement somewhere desperate to be free, reliving with anxiety his Vietnam days? How does he feel about the fact that he's been forced to align himself with Bush, whom he has clearly never liked and who so thoroughly stole his nomination in 2000? I used to have a lot of respect for John McCain, and may very well have respect again after today, when he (hopefully) becomes himself again, and stops being an over-scripted dog on a leash that's far too short.

And who, pray tell, is this Sarah Palin person. Where has this thing come from? Alaska, yes... but two months ago, who the hell knew who this woman was. No one.

And, perhaps, rightly so. Politically, she terrifies me. Is there really a person anywhere in America who believes she is in anyway qualified to lead this country. Can anyone, anywhere who knows anything say that with a straight face? I have a crisp, new dollar bill for you if you can. So, as a vice president she would be like cancer, or AIDS, or killer bees. But as a personality? I think I'm in love with her. She is born to be a star. She has charisma out the ass. She's like George W. Bush, but cute, and without the arrogance. Roger Ebert recently said she was made to host a television talk show. He's absolutely right. She's a great entertainer. That's where she belongs. In Hollywood... not in Washington.

But the greatest mystery to me, one that may well be answered in time, is how these two people came into contact with each other. Who on earth told McCain this woman would make a winning ticket? Did they do it just to martyr him? Because they did... since she became his VP candidate, his numbers have done nothing but fall. Maybe John McCain is the victim of a vast conspiracy... follow me here on a tangent.

Let's assume that the Republican party is controlled completely by private investors, business men, lobbyists. They were able to put a pawn in the White House on 2000, keep him there in 2004, but come 2008, there are no viable cards to throw in there. No one has the name recognition to beat Hillary Clinton (at this point the assumed Democratic nominee). Of course, history goes to show Clinton loses the nomination to an upstart young black man from Illinois who is fresh and new and takes the country by storm. But the Republican nomination goes to McCain, who's wanted it for a long time and could, potentially, win. Of course, as the campaign wears on, it becomes clear that he won't. So, in a move of brave foresight, they pick another pawn, this time a female yokel from a nowhere state who used to be a pageant queen and a weather girl and throw her on the ticket with him. She knows nothing about politics, but she's cute and the people love her and she becomes a rising star while McCain, meanwhile, is forced to fall on his own sword. Naturally, the American people decide over the course of four years that they are tired of 'change' and in 2012, the Republican party has a fresh, popular new puppet to install in the oval office. Then, it's back to pulling strings.

That, clearly, is all speculation, but how else to account for such a boldly wrongheaded move?

But, anyway...

I hope Obama wins, I want John McCain to get back to normal, and I want Sarah Palin to stick around. I think the country needs her, but as a replacement for, say, Mary Tyler Moore. Hell, she made SNL relevant again... Actually, it may be worth a McCain/Palin presidency just to get more Tina Fey impersonations.

All right, I'm done. Go vote now (for Obama). Then come home and write a letter (to NBC, telling them Palin needs her own reality show). Ain't America grand?

Eye Candy: Gael Garcia Bernal

2008-11-03T15:42:00.001-06:00

Gael Garcia Bernal is the most interesting actor under the age of thirty working today. That most of his best roles have been in foreign language features (Amores Perros, Y Tu Mama Tambien, Bad Education) has, clearly, limited his popularity in this country, it has not, in any way diminished his talent. While his most popular films in America have been, in my opinion, disappointing (Blindness, Babel, The Motorcycle Diaries), I'm willing to concede that I am in the minority opinion on that, and will gladly say that he was in no way responsible for the things about them I disliked.

He has the versatility of Johnny Depp without the pretension. The charm of George Clooney without the years. The looks of Brad Pitt without the baggage. After the passing of Heath Ledger earlier this year, I have to elect a new favorite movie star. Friends, I have my candidate.