At the end of a party this weekend, a girl came up to me and asked me to tell my roommate “hi.”
“Tell so-and-so I said hi!”
“Okay!”
I hate this.
Because now one of three things will happen.
1) For some strange reason, you don’t see the person you’re supposed to say “hi” to. Generally this means a massive oversight on someone’s part, because there were either serious misjudgments concerning your relationship with said person or you just promised to “say hi” to someone you don’t normally see on a regular basis. The former begs why does the greeter think you are a good emissary, and the latter questions if you’re an idiot.
2) You forget to say “hi.” Nine times out of ten, this leads to absolutely nothing happening. On the rare occasions that the greeter you are surrogate for is in the habit of following up (in which case, they clearly have the wherewithal to relay their own messages, you know?), the next time he or she meets with the greeting recipient, they will question them if the either received the message or (worse), why they never got back in touch with a “hi” of their own. No matter what, in this instance, you look like a moron and a jerk, inconsiderate and forgetful. And then you have all this drama in your life because someone felt in this electronic age, a human intermediary is the best possible conduit to relay information with.
3) You deliver the message. Now what? Your part of the transaction is over. The fact that you often divulge this information at the end of the conversation in a “oh-by-the-way” manner (“Oh, by the way, Jane says to say ‘hi’”) implies you are now done with the talking portion of said interaction. Too often though, the person then wants to engage some more. The problem with this is that they don’t actually want to engage with you. Rather, they want to talk with the person you are delivering the message for. Of course, that person isn’t there (hence you saying “hi” for them) and you find yourself once again filling a surrogate role. Only this time, you have no actions to take, meaning you are essentially a wall the other person is talking to. In the worse cases, you get this exchange:
“Oh, by the way, Jane says to say ‘hi.’”
“Hi, Jane!”
And now those words are out, but no simply sent to the ether, but for someone who has no chance of actually hearing it.
It makes you wonder why you hang out with these types of people in the first place.
The last irksome issue in this whole little passion play is the fact that chances are you were at some social event when you were asked to deliver this “hi” (such as I was). A better word – rather than “asked” – might be “accosted.” Here you are, having a good time, and all of a sudden you are being given a homework assignment. Not exactly the party ‘favor’ you were expecting to walk a way with – this is literally a party-induced favor.
It’s bad enough trying to remember everyone’s name that you are introduced to (even if you’re at a real barn-burner that provides name-tags: nothing creeps out girls more than a drunk guy leering at their breasts on a fact-finding mission), and now you have to take the party into the real world. Which is exactly why you were at the party in the first place: to escape the real world. That’s probably the reason why it creates such an unfavorable reaction – it’s now party info outside its proper context.
Like a broken change machine, it just makes no sense.
Couple of music notes I wanted to bring up:
A, G-flat, and B-sharp.
Ouch.
Really, though (I apologize for the video quality if it’s not-so-good):
1) Do you realize how sad it is that someone can point to a crappy band and say “Well, they’re no O-Town” and not be completely ironic.
2) Is there a better song about abstinence than Jermaine Stewart’s “We Don’t Have to (Take Our Clothes Off)?” Here’s a sample lyric:
“Not a word
From your lips
You just took for granted that I want to skinny dip
A quick hit
That’s your game
Girl I’m not a piece of meat
Stimulate my brain”
Remember, this is a guy singing this song (NOTE: Guys like sex. It says so in the movies). Even more important, it’s abstinence music you can dance to.
I want to make it clear that I absolutely love this song. As I said, it’s got a great beat. Probably bringing it down is the whole AIDS subtext, but that seems to be the case of a lot of things: Rent, anyone?
3) Speaking of oddly danceable music, Kirk Franklin – the man who brought the Nineties classic “Stomp” – put together “Looking For You” last summer, and if you heard the beat, you would think: this is the jam! (that is if you still call songs “jams.” Do you remember calling beach shorts “jams?”). But then the lyrics come in and you realize there’s an awful lot of “Jesus” being bandied about. Which is weird, because a lot of Christians don’t condone dancing (think Footloose), especially the ass-shaking dancing that the lively hip-hop inspired rhythm seems to call for. And this isn’t small sects of Christianity, either. Southern Baptists, possibly the largest faith other than Catholicism (ah, the teachings of Cathol – thank you Eddie Izzard), doesn’t like dancing amongst non-married persons, because it can create too much lust and temptation.
Damn right it can. But I think if God was so concerned about us dancing, he might have given us some commandments to guide us. Oh right, he did. Maybe it was on the tablet Moses dropped (see History of the World: Part I -- Note that there never was, nor was there ever intended, a “Part II.”).
Just look at how much fun that little leprechaun man is having. Just as God intended.
4) Lastly, I mentioned Jeff Buckley’s album Grace a few posts back, and mentioned the song “Last Goodbye” being perhaps one of the greatest break-up songs ever. Well, here’s another to add to the list.
Ryan Adams (not to be confused with my sixth-grade dance “Everything I Do, I Do it for You” Bryan Adams) wrote a phenomenal song called “Come Pick Me Up.” It’s just so chock-full of heart-break, a great tune, bitterness and longing. Maybe it’s not exactly a break-up song, but it certainly can play that way (think of the way “Friends” used U2’s “With or Without You” when Ross and Rachel broke up – and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about right now). Adams writes pure emotion in this song, and it’s simply lovely.
Of course, it might be unfair, because Adams is essentially a country artist. But since he doesn’t mention (cliché/stereotype alert) a dog, a pickup, or a shotgun, it just comes across as a great song. And it has harmonica! Enjoy:
If you go back to the Kirk Franklin video, you’ll see the fat lady singing.
So, until next time . . .
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Mmmmm . . . Opiate
I know it's a little late, but the television season has come to a close, and my TiVo can finally cool down.
Before I go all deep into the TiVo phenomenon (which, by the way, you should know a little about because, c'mon, it's 2007), allow me to say goodbye to some dear friends.
As you all know (big assumption on my part), this was the last season of "Gilmore Girls."
--But wait, David: Aren't you a guy?
--Of course I'm a guy. . .a guy who liked "Gilmore Girls."
A brief guide to the show: A young, single mother is raising a daughter, but more as a best friend than as a child. The two are incredibly close. The mother is a "free-spirit" type who comes from rich, WASPy parents (with whom they have dinner every Friday night). There are other characters, too.
Most of the plot has to do with the romances of the Lorelai (the mother, played by Lauren Graham) and Rori (which is somehow short for "Lorelai"; played by Alexis Bledel). It also deals a lot with the ability to talk really fast, really stream-of-conscious, and basically be incredibly annoying if it wasn't for the fact that they are attractive. And that's not just me talking -- I can't see how anyone could deal with these flaky girls for more than ten minutes at a time without wanting to stab something with a retractable clicky-pen (the clickiness makes the pain exponentially greater -- see chart below***). Luckily, there are commercials every ten minutes or so (on top of the television-standard 30 second scene clips), so it's a little easier to bear.
***There's no chart below. But believe me, the science is verifiable, in a Intelligent Design kind of way.
But maybe that's why I liked it -- the writing (and therefore the dialogue) was unique, which made the show, despite it's rather cliched plots, interesting to watch. There was plenty of what makes television dramas good: humour, romance, tears, fights, and beautiful people (it was a little light on the action -- no slaying vampires for these girls).
It was also one of the veterans of a the relatively fledgling WB Network, and one of the big reasons that network was able to make it beyond UPN-type ignominy (much to the chagrin of such programs as "Muscle," "Unhappily Ever After," "The Parent 'Hood" and "The Wayans Bros." -- How the hell didn't "Muscle" make it?).
Alas, it is not the only WB show to end this year (and, I know, it's the CW now, but screw that -- except for "Everyone Hates Chris," "America's Top Model," and wrestling, the UPN contributed nothing to the merger -- I don't want to hear about "Girlfriends" (an African-American show produced by Kelsey Grammer), which my roommate insists is good, and I insist she's crazy). We also bid a fond farewell to "7th Heaven."
By fond farewell, I mean: "Um, I can't believe you were on so long, because why would anyone want to watch a show that is completely about moral drama?"
The answer -- most of America.
I didn't really watch the show, although like any dedicated television viewer, a checked it out a couple of times. It was harmlessly charming (anytime a dog is listed in the opening credits, I say "watch out" -- Look where he's listed on the IMDB list). When you look at the history of television, it's pretty amazing, but this show will go down as one of the most successful in history. Any show that goes on for 11 seasons (11 seasons!) is quite an accomplishment. Especially when you consider that Jessica Biel left because she was "too sexy" (which is true -- she's too sexy, but amazing for a television program to care about something like that, especially one on the network that has brought you the teenage-sex dramas "One Tree Hill," "Dawson's Creek," and so on).
If you ever wonder why Bush kept getting elected, look no further then the popularity of this show. This is what middle-America looks like and/or strives to be. Hence, 11 seasons.
Mackenzie Rosman growing up to be pretty hot didn't hurt the ratings either, I suspect. Which is weird, of course, because we watched her grow up for eleven years. But then again, we all knew guys who counted down the days until the Olsen twins achieved legal status, and that was in the desire to have an incestuous threesome. This is downright wholesome in comparison. It has to be; it's "7th Heaven."
If you ever do catch a re-run, note the theme song's egregious use of the title of the show in the lyrics. There's a reason you're writing theme songs, buddy. But even the song is perfectly aligned with the shows content: It's soft-rock, poppy-adult-contemporary style is so perfectly Lite FM to be both appealing to the masses and yet nauseating to the ears. If you've never seen an ear throw-up, you're in for a real treat.
Tying back in with "Gilmore Girls," one of the great dialogue-writers in the past two decades of television has been Aaron Sorkin. I believe I've mentioned his latest show "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip." Well, I thought it had been cancelled. In fact, it seemed to be, but apparently they had some episodes knocking around, and decided the summer would be a nice time to air them. It's still a really good show, but I almost feel like I caught the carrot, lost it, caught it again, and then learned it was rotten.
I hate carrots. Might be why my glasses are so thick.
Like the bright orange promise of sweetness, these summer episodes are just teases. It's over folks. And another good show is cut down by the man. You have to love the irony of a show about the behind-the-scenes moves of a show always at odds with the network being cut by the real network. Maybe that's not irony, though. I'll check into it for you.
A final show that has ended, as you all know, is "The Sopranos." I didn't watch it. I stopped watching after the third season, when I realized that the show really wasn't compelling anymore. Part of my problem was that the first season was so good, so fresh, that after that, everything felt dissapointing. I think the same thing happened with "Oz." Overall, I see it as a problem with HBO shows in general, because they are so unique in the beginning that the innovation wears off when the writers and viewers realize there's no where else to go.
But now that the summer is upon us, we have the re-emergence of great shows for new seasons: "The Closer," "Eureka," and "Psych." I've mentioned before, but "Psyche" is probably the funniest show on television, "Eureka" is one of those hidden cable-gems (Sci-Fi channel), and "The Closer" is apparently the most popular cable show in history (at least, according to the TNT promos). They are all worth checking out. Unfortunately, another great TNT show, "Saved," did not make the cut from last summer. More's the pity.
So set your DVR to record these shows, enjoy your summer, and when it's raining, watch these shows. It will make you happy, even though the sky is gray.
And yes, that's from a song.
Before I go all deep into the TiVo phenomenon (which, by the way, you should know a little about because, c'mon, it's 2007), allow me to say goodbye to some dear friends.
As you all know (big assumption on my part), this was the last season of "Gilmore Girls."
--But wait, David: Aren't you a guy?
--Of course I'm a guy. . .a guy who liked "Gilmore Girls."
A brief guide to the show: A young, single mother is raising a daughter, but more as a best friend than as a child. The two are incredibly close. The mother is a "free-spirit" type who comes from rich, WASPy parents (with whom they have dinner every Friday night). There are other characters, too.
Most of the plot has to do with the romances of the Lorelai (the mother, played by Lauren Graham) and Rori (which is somehow short for "Lorelai"; played by Alexis Bledel). It also deals a lot with the ability to talk really fast, really stream-of-conscious, and basically be incredibly annoying if it wasn't for the fact that they are attractive. And that's not just me talking -- I can't see how anyone could deal with these flaky girls for more than ten minutes at a time without wanting to stab something with a retractable clicky-pen (the clickiness makes the pain exponentially greater -- see chart below***). Luckily, there are commercials every ten minutes or so (on top of the television-standard 30 second scene clips), so it's a little easier to bear.
***There's no chart below. But believe me, the science is verifiable, in a Intelligent Design kind of way.
But maybe that's why I liked it -- the writing (and therefore the dialogue) was unique, which made the show, despite it's rather cliched plots, interesting to watch. There was plenty of what makes television dramas good: humour, romance, tears, fights, and beautiful people (it was a little light on the action -- no slaying vampires for these girls).
It was also one of the veterans of a the relatively fledgling WB Network, and one of the big reasons that network was able to make it beyond UPN-type ignominy (much to the chagrin of such programs as "Muscle," "Unhappily Ever After," "The Parent 'Hood" and "The Wayans Bros." -- How the hell didn't "Muscle" make it?).
Alas, it is not the only WB show to end this year (and, I know, it's the CW now, but screw that -- except for "Everyone Hates Chris," "America's Top Model," and wrestling, the UPN contributed nothing to the merger -- I don't want to hear about "Girlfriends" (an African-American show produced by Kelsey Grammer), which my roommate insists is good, and I insist she's crazy). We also bid a fond farewell to "7th Heaven."
By fond farewell, I mean: "Um, I can't believe you were on so long, because why would anyone want to watch a show that is completely about moral drama?"
The answer -- most of America.
I didn't really watch the show, although like any dedicated television viewer, a checked it out a couple of times. It was harmlessly charming (anytime a dog is listed in the opening credits, I say "watch out" -- Look where he's listed on the IMDB list). When you look at the history of television, it's pretty amazing, but this show will go down as one of the most successful in history. Any show that goes on for 11 seasons (11 seasons!) is quite an accomplishment. Especially when you consider that Jessica Biel left because she was "too sexy" (which is true -- she's too sexy, but amazing for a television program to care about something like that, especially one on the network that has brought you the teenage-sex dramas "One Tree Hill," "Dawson's Creek," and so on).
If you ever wonder why Bush kept getting elected, look no further then the popularity of this show. This is what middle-America looks like and/or strives to be. Hence, 11 seasons.
Mackenzie Rosman growing up to be pretty hot didn't hurt the ratings either, I suspect. Which is weird, of course, because we watched her grow up for eleven years. But then again, we all knew guys who counted down the days until the Olsen twins achieved legal status, and that was in the desire to have an incestuous threesome. This is downright wholesome in comparison. It has to be; it's "7th Heaven."
If you ever do catch a re-run, note the theme song's egregious use of the title of the show in the lyrics. There's a reason you're writing theme songs, buddy. But even the song is perfectly aligned with the shows content: It's soft-rock, poppy-adult-contemporary style is so perfectly Lite FM to be both appealing to the masses and yet nauseating to the ears. If you've never seen an ear throw-up, you're in for a real treat.
Tying back in with "Gilmore Girls," one of the great dialogue-writers in the past two decades of television has been Aaron Sorkin. I believe I've mentioned his latest show "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip." Well, I thought it had been cancelled. In fact, it seemed to be, but apparently they had some episodes knocking around, and decided the summer would be a nice time to air them. It's still a really good show, but I almost feel like I caught the carrot, lost it, caught it again, and then learned it was rotten.
I hate carrots. Might be why my glasses are so thick.
Like the bright orange promise of sweetness, these summer episodes are just teases. It's over folks. And another good show is cut down by the man. You have to love the irony of a show about the behind-the-scenes moves of a show always at odds with the network being cut by the real network. Maybe that's not irony, though. I'll check into it for you.
A final show that has ended, as you all know, is "The Sopranos." I didn't watch it. I stopped watching after the third season, when I realized that the show really wasn't compelling anymore. Part of my problem was that the first season was so good, so fresh, that after that, everything felt dissapointing. I think the same thing happened with "Oz." Overall, I see it as a problem with HBO shows in general, because they are so unique in the beginning that the innovation wears off when the writers and viewers realize there's no where else to go.
But now that the summer is upon us, we have the re-emergence of great shows for new seasons: "The Closer," "Eureka," and "Psych." I've mentioned before, but "Psyche" is probably the funniest show on television, "Eureka" is one of those hidden cable-gems (Sci-Fi channel), and "The Closer" is apparently the most popular cable show in history (at least, according to the TNT promos). They are all worth checking out. Unfortunately, another great TNT show, "Saved," did not make the cut from last summer. More's the pity.
So set your DVR to record these shows, enjoy your summer, and when it's raining, watch these shows. It will make you happy, even though the sky is gray.
And yes, that's from a song.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
A Couple Months Early
I don’t think I’ve ever read anything that made my stomach hurt. My head, sure. My eyes, of course. But my stomach?
And yet, I don’t think I’ll be able to say that anymore. And, unfortunately, it’s not because the book was disgusting, but because the book is disgustingly real.
The 9/11 Report.
Granted, there’s no way I could sit through 600 pages of stomach ache, so I bought the “Graphic Adaptation.” At first thought, a graphic novel about 9/11 seems incredibly crass and insensitive. But then I realize that even for people with better digestive systems than me, who wants to read an impersonal account of 9/11 (in fact, can there be such a thing?)?
And the amazing thing is, the 9/11 Commission realized this. In the forward, the chairs of the commission wrote:
“It was the goal of the commission to tell the story of 9/11 in a way that the American people could read and understand. We felt strongly that one of the most important and tragic events in our nation’s history needed to be accessible to all. Our goal in The 9/11 Commission Report was not only to inform our fellow citizens about history but also to energize and engage them on behalf of reform and change, to make our country safer and more secure.”
Probably realizing that this might not happen with dry prose, they commissioned two artists (a Commission commissioned . . . another time, perhaps) to adapt the report: Sid Jacobson and Ernie Colόn. These two did such an amazing job condensing those days and the commissions recommendations into language and images so simple and yet so profound – it’s the reason that poetry is different than prose.
One thing that will probably strike you is the style of art: it’s very old-school. I think that’s the reason these two artists were tapped instead of someone more contemporary (say Todd McFarland – I haven’t read comics in a while, so he’s about as contemporary as I get), because they didn’t want it to “feel” comicky. So although it’s not the most “pleasing to the eye,” would you really want it to be? It’s telling a story (one we’re all familiar with), and so we already have images in our minds. We don’t need vivid detail. We just want the truth.
Now, I’ve read some critics who think that the 9/11 Commission Report was biased and political to begin with. That might be. But I don’t think the graphic adaptation does anything but try to be objective. The report is critical of pretty much everyone, including Bush, and if it isn’t in depth about its criticisms, clearly the bullet-pointed recommendations (by far and away the most valuable product of the commission) are executed well.
Perhaps the best part (if there can be such a thing), is that they made 9/11 into art. I’m sure you’ve all heard of the idea that “there can be no poetry after Auschwitz” (Adorno—I’ve mentioned him before). Well, I think that did a disservice to the memories of the victims, because it’s saying evil can win. I know that’s clichéd (“the terrorists win!”: we’ve all heard that one), but I think to be so pessimistic, to give in to horror is a cop-out. You may not feel like writing poetry. And maybe you won’t. But you can’t let the music die, and you shouldn’t command others to kill it.
Maybe that’s schmaltzy; I’m a bit of a sentimentalist. But I’d rather have art (that’s also informative) then “news.” The fact that the art is accessible to everyone (including teens) makes it an invaluable text. There are probably people who hate the idea that this is a comic, just like they hate the idea of a comic bible. But what’s more important? That people are able to actually interact with such important information, or that we maintain the intellectual integrity but keep it obscure.
I think the Commission got it right.
Read the book.
And yet, I don’t think I’ll be able to say that anymore. And, unfortunately, it’s not because the book was disgusting, but because the book is disgustingly real.
The 9/11 Report.
Granted, there’s no way I could sit through 600 pages of stomach ache, so I bought the “Graphic Adaptation.” At first thought, a graphic novel about 9/11 seems incredibly crass and insensitive. But then I realize that even for people with better digestive systems than me, who wants to read an impersonal account of 9/11 (in fact, can there be such a thing?)?
And the amazing thing is, the 9/11 Commission realized this. In the forward, the chairs of the commission wrote:
“It was the goal of the commission to tell the story of 9/11 in a way that the American people could read and understand. We felt strongly that one of the most important and tragic events in our nation’s history needed to be accessible to all. Our goal in The 9/11 Commission Report was not only to inform our fellow citizens about history but also to energize and engage them on behalf of reform and change, to make our country safer and more secure.”
Probably realizing that this might not happen with dry prose, they commissioned two artists (a Commission commissioned . . . another time, perhaps) to adapt the report: Sid Jacobson and Ernie Colόn. These two did such an amazing job condensing those days and the commissions recommendations into language and images so simple and yet so profound – it’s the reason that poetry is different than prose.
One thing that will probably strike you is the style of art: it’s very old-school. I think that’s the reason these two artists were tapped instead of someone more contemporary (say Todd McFarland – I haven’t read comics in a while, so he’s about as contemporary as I get), because they didn’t want it to “feel” comicky. So although it’s not the most “pleasing to the eye,” would you really want it to be? It’s telling a story (one we’re all familiar with), and so we already have images in our minds. We don’t need vivid detail. We just want the truth.
Now, I’ve read some critics who think that the 9/11 Commission Report was biased and political to begin with. That might be. But I don’t think the graphic adaptation does anything but try to be objective. The report is critical of pretty much everyone, including Bush, and if it isn’t in depth about its criticisms, clearly the bullet-pointed recommendations (by far and away the most valuable product of the commission) are executed well.
Perhaps the best part (if there can be such a thing), is that they made 9/11 into art. I’m sure you’ve all heard of the idea that “there can be no poetry after Auschwitz” (Adorno—I’ve mentioned him before). Well, I think that did a disservice to the memories of the victims, because it’s saying evil can win. I know that’s clichéd (“the terrorists win!”: we’ve all heard that one), but I think to be so pessimistic, to give in to horror is a cop-out. You may not feel like writing poetry. And maybe you won’t. But you can’t let the music die, and you shouldn’t command others to kill it.
Maybe that’s schmaltzy; I’m a bit of a sentimentalist. But I’d rather have art (that’s also informative) then “news.” The fact that the art is accessible to everyone (including teens) makes it an invaluable text. There are probably people who hate the idea that this is a comic, just like they hate the idea of a comic bible. But what’s more important? That people are able to actually interact with such important information, or that we maintain the intellectual integrity but keep it obscure.
I think the Commission got it right.
Read the book.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Something's Mything
God bless the inventor of puns. Who I suppose was God, so God bless. . .himself?
Whatever.
Speaking of God, with everything we “know” about mythical creatures, is it too much for the American Museum of Natural History to actually give us something for the money we pay? Even with my discount, it cost me ten dollars to see their Mythical Creatures exhibit.
Ten dollars. Say good-bye to Mr. Hamilton.
Ten dollars is a movie.
Ten dollars is a meal (albeit of the speedy nature).
Ten dollars is two beers.
Ten dollars is .0086957 of my rent (God bless New York City).
And what do you get for ten bucks (or however much those of you unfortunate enough to pay retail)? Perhaps twenty-five minutes of reading and maybe a little longer if you watch the videos. Some interesting displays and information about a variety of “animals” – from the well-known dragons, mermaids, and phoenixes (phoeni? Probably not, but I think it should be) to a bunch of culturally specific beasts that I had already forgotten the names of by the time I reached the subway to go home.
Ten dollars . . .
Perhaps what bothers me so much is what seemed to me like a lack of information. I may joke about the fact that all you get is a half-hour of reading, but in all actuality, I like reading, and I was in a museum. So don’t hold back the intellectualism, you know? Granted, there were space restrictions (at least, as far as the space they decided to utilize), but so many cultural aspects of the animals seemed left to the wayside. They tried, I’ll give them that (and aren’t I magnanimous to do so?), providing literary excerpts for most of the animals, ranging from Beowulf to Tolkien, Japanese folk-stories to Chinese medical texts. But it seems to me that it is exactly there that they dropped the ball. Because by calling the display “mythic,” they are admitting that these creatures are text-based beings – whether the text is written or oral. Therefore, give us stories.
The facts are cool, don’t get me wrong. The artifacts they had, for the most part, were fascinating. But by not playing up the story aspect, they missed an opportunity to hook people in. Considering the abundance of contemporary materials available they also could have had the kiddies clamorin’. Uh, can you say Harry Potter? Hell, half of the animals in that display kids will recognize from Harry Potter, and not only could you have tied those two things together, hell, you probably could have gotten some sponsorship out of Scholastic and Rowling, thus off-setting (or at least justifying) the cost. They did tie in some one of the animals to Pokemon which, as a game is still thriving, but c’mon – it’s not really the pinnacle of popular culture anymore.
-- And yes, it was the pinnacle of culture seven or eight years ago: “I choose you, Pikachu!” I could tell a really embarrassing story about going to see Pokemon: The First Movie in the theatre while in college, but I promised my friend that I wouldn’t anymore. I will say this, though: they showed a short at the beginning of the movie called (I think) Pikachu’s Vacation, and it was quite possibly the least masculine thing I’ve ever participated in. For any of you not familiar with the cartoon, all the animals talk by using the syllables of their names in a variety of forms. So, for instance, that yellow cat-thing with the lightning tail is Pikachu, and he (she? Who knows) would say things like: “Pika pika. Pika chooooo,” all in an adorably vomit-inducing voice. Well, Pikachu’s Vacation is entirely made up of different Pokemon talking to each other in what must be the Fire Island for enslaved battle-animals, and well . . . cringing and giggling. But mostly cringing –
And that’s what we call a tangent, foo's. Brush your teeth!
What I’m saying, though, is that people like to be able to connect with what they’re learning. This is basic educational theory. Yes, many of us are familiar with the giant squid (kraken) from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (which, for those of you not aware, is not about the depth the submarine reaches (which would be pretty impossible, considering a league is 2 miles, and I think the deepest part of any ocean, the Mariana’s Trench, is at most 6 or 7 miles deep), but the distance they travel under water. Just a little trivia). But aren’t a lot more of us familiar with the giant squid in the lake at Hogwarts?
Moreover, aren’t children?
Because that’s what’s really important to remember: this museum, for all its intents and purposes, is a place of wonder for children. And you can get away with a ton of info with the dinosaurs because children are simply in awe of the size. Moreover, they are in awe of the power they have over these giants of the past: First, they are still alive. Second, they not only tend to know more about the dinosaurs than their parents, that knowledge helps reduce those “terrible lizards” to something controllable. As a kid, that’s such an amazing feeling. Now imagine if they were able to do that with the monsters of their dreams?
That’s one of the reasons books like Harry Potter are so popular: because it shows kids like them, kids who grew up without magic, suddenly with power to do amazing things. To battle and handle monsters and overcome fear.
And with the last book coming out, think of the marketing . . .
I’m just saying that I went in expecting more, and felt a little gypped (a pretty ugly/racist word, now that I see it typed on my screen. I guess gypsies don’t really have a lot of say at political correctness conferences).
Part of my disappointment was that I just read a very good book called The Bestiary by Nicholas Christopher. It’s a story about a boy who grows up in a broken family and finds comfort in the stories his grandmother tells about animals and their spirits. It eventually becomes life-consuming, as he searches for the “Caravan Bestiary,” which is supposed to be the book of all the animals Noah didn’t take on the ark.
How dope is that?
What makes the book so good is that the story plays with the magical so that although you get a feeling of fantasy, Christopher is a good enough writer that he is able to blur the edges of reality without completely jettisoning it. In a way, it reminds me of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell in this regard (if you haven’t read that, do yourself a favor and read it. Not only did it win the Nebula and Hugo Awards for the best science fiction novel, but it’s simply one of the better books written in the past few years). Throughout the book, Christopher provides passages from the narrators’ own bestiary, and you get introduced to a lot of creatures not as common to the popular consciousness.
Unfortunately, this book isn’t actually available yet, but it comes out in a few weeks, and I definitely recommend you check it out. Even if the idea of the bestiary doesn’t capture your imagination, the writing will definitely draw you in, such as the relationships between the narrator and his mysterious father. I will say the romance is a bit trite (nothing new there), but even that works well with the rest of the story. I have a feeling this book is going to be one of those “summer reads” that just blows up.
You heard it hear first.
All six of you.
Whatever.
Speaking of God, with everything we “know” about mythical creatures, is it too much for the American Museum of Natural History to actually give us something for the money we pay? Even with my discount, it cost me ten dollars to see their Mythical Creatures exhibit.
Ten dollars. Say good-bye to Mr. Hamilton.
Ten dollars is a movie.
Ten dollars is a meal (albeit of the speedy nature).
Ten dollars is two beers.
Ten dollars is .0086957 of my rent (God bless New York City).
And what do you get for ten bucks (or however much those of you unfortunate enough to pay retail)? Perhaps twenty-five minutes of reading and maybe a little longer if you watch the videos. Some interesting displays and information about a variety of “animals” – from the well-known dragons, mermaids, and phoenixes (phoeni? Probably not, but I think it should be) to a bunch of culturally specific beasts that I had already forgotten the names of by the time I reached the subway to go home.
Ten dollars . . .
Perhaps what bothers me so much is what seemed to me like a lack of information. I may joke about the fact that all you get is a half-hour of reading, but in all actuality, I like reading, and I was in a museum. So don’t hold back the intellectualism, you know? Granted, there were space restrictions (at least, as far as the space they decided to utilize), but so many cultural aspects of the animals seemed left to the wayside. They tried, I’ll give them that (and aren’t I magnanimous to do so?), providing literary excerpts for most of the animals, ranging from Beowulf to Tolkien, Japanese folk-stories to Chinese medical texts. But it seems to me that it is exactly there that they dropped the ball. Because by calling the display “mythic,” they are admitting that these creatures are text-based beings – whether the text is written or oral. Therefore, give us stories.
The facts are cool, don’t get me wrong. The artifacts they had, for the most part, were fascinating. But by not playing up the story aspect, they missed an opportunity to hook people in. Considering the abundance of contemporary materials available they also could have had the kiddies clamorin’. Uh, can you say Harry Potter? Hell, half of the animals in that display kids will recognize from Harry Potter, and not only could you have tied those two things together, hell, you probably could have gotten some sponsorship out of Scholastic and Rowling, thus off-setting (or at least justifying) the cost. They did tie in some one of the animals to Pokemon which, as a game is still thriving, but c’mon – it’s not really the pinnacle of popular culture anymore.
-- And yes, it was the pinnacle of culture seven or eight years ago: “I choose you, Pikachu!” I could tell a really embarrassing story about going to see Pokemon: The First Movie in the theatre while in college, but I promised my friend that I wouldn’t anymore. I will say this, though: they showed a short at the beginning of the movie called (I think) Pikachu’s Vacation, and it was quite possibly the least masculine thing I’ve ever participated in. For any of you not familiar with the cartoon, all the animals talk by using the syllables of their names in a variety of forms. So, for instance, that yellow cat-thing with the lightning tail is Pikachu, and he (she? Who knows) would say things like: “Pika pika. Pika chooooo,” all in an adorably vomit-inducing voice. Well, Pikachu’s Vacation is entirely made up of different Pokemon talking to each other in what must be the Fire Island for enslaved battle-animals, and well . . . cringing and giggling. But mostly cringing –
And that’s what we call a tangent, foo's. Brush your teeth!
What I’m saying, though, is that people like to be able to connect with what they’re learning. This is basic educational theory. Yes, many of us are familiar with the giant squid (kraken) from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (which, for those of you not aware, is not about the depth the submarine reaches (which would be pretty impossible, considering a league is 2 miles, and I think the deepest part of any ocean, the Mariana’s Trench, is at most 6 or 7 miles deep), but the distance they travel under water. Just a little trivia). But aren’t a lot more of us familiar with the giant squid in the lake at Hogwarts?
Moreover, aren’t children?
Because that’s what’s really important to remember: this museum, for all its intents and purposes, is a place of wonder for children. And you can get away with a ton of info with the dinosaurs because children are simply in awe of the size. Moreover, they are in awe of the power they have over these giants of the past: First, they are still alive. Second, they not only tend to know more about the dinosaurs than their parents, that knowledge helps reduce those “terrible lizards” to something controllable. As a kid, that’s such an amazing feeling. Now imagine if they were able to do that with the monsters of their dreams?
That’s one of the reasons books like Harry Potter are so popular: because it shows kids like them, kids who grew up without magic, suddenly with power to do amazing things. To battle and handle monsters and overcome fear.
And with the last book coming out, think of the marketing . . .
I’m just saying that I went in expecting more, and felt a little gypped (a pretty ugly/racist word, now that I see it typed on my screen. I guess gypsies don’t really have a lot of say at political correctness conferences).
Part of my disappointment was that I just read a very good book called The Bestiary by Nicholas Christopher. It’s a story about a boy who grows up in a broken family and finds comfort in the stories his grandmother tells about animals and their spirits. It eventually becomes life-consuming, as he searches for the “Caravan Bestiary,” which is supposed to be the book of all the animals Noah didn’t take on the ark.
How dope is that?
What makes the book so good is that the story plays with the magical so that although you get a feeling of fantasy, Christopher is a good enough writer that he is able to blur the edges of reality without completely jettisoning it. In a way, it reminds me of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell in this regard (if you haven’t read that, do yourself a favor and read it. Not only did it win the Nebula and Hugo Awards for the best science fiction novel, but it’s simply one of the better books written in the past few years). Throughout the book, Christopher provides passages from the narrators’ own bestiary, and you get introduced to a lot of creatures not as common to the popular consciousness.
Unfortunately, this book isn’t actually available yet, but it comes out in a few weeks, and I definitely recommend you check it out. Even if the idea of the bestiary doesn’t capture your imagination, the writing will definitely draw you in, such as the relationships between the narrator and his mysterious father. I will say the romance is a bit trite (nothing new there), but even that works well with the rest of the story. I have a feeling this book is going to be one of those “summer reads” that just blows up.
You heard it hear first.
All six of you.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
I May be 76 Trombones Short, but. . .
I don’t think I’ll ever understand people who say that music isn’t important in their lives. How is this possible? Music has played such an integral part in the formation of my character that it is unfathomable that music wouldn’t have affected everyone, to some degree or another. There are so many aspects, so many genres to enjoy, that to be unable to find something that moves you, either physically or spiritually, saddens me. Music is often associated with the soul, and because of this, I feel it is part of the soul. Identity is wrapped up in the music of our lives, whether it be a favorite song or just the rhythm of your work. But to have no music in your life, to be unmoved or unmotivated by a song, would seem to mean you have no soul. I’m one of those people who wakes up with a song stuck in his head, and instead of going crazy trying to get it out, I find myself seeking that song out, needing to hear it’s true form so that I can enjoy it completely. I’m sure there’s a madness with a name that describes this, something like “sonomania” or other combinations (or lack thereof) of Latin. This is not a malady, however, and it’s nothing I would ever want cured. Just as many with obsessive-compulsive disorders feel naked without their “tasks,” so would I feel hungry without my songs (and yes, the thought that perhaps my need for music borders on the obsessive has occurred to me – as has my desire to create as many mixed-metaphors as possible). I do not say everyone needs such desire as I have, but I do say everyone needs (and deserves) a soul.
Music has always been important to me, because it was important to my family. A more tonally deaf group of people you probably have never met, but to not be able to sing is not the same thing to not have song. And my family has a song, or that very least, a song list. Amazingly, despite our lack of vocal talent (a lack that, alas, hit me in conjunction with puberty: here’s six years of torment, and we’ll be taking back one of the things that gives you joy), we still managed to sing a great deal. Sing, hum, dance – music was everywhere.
I grew up in the last days of vinyl, and my Fisher-Price record player did it’s job about as well as anything could that found itself in the hands of three boys (there’s a reason they make all their products out of indestructible plastic). Our choices were not limited, but favorites definitely found their way more often than others, including Carol King’s Really Rosie, Alvin and the Chipmunks, a Care-bears record that I can not remember any of the songs, those McDonald’s records that came in the newspaper (if it played the whole song, you won . . . anyone?) and of course John Williams’ score to the Star Wars movies. When we finally moved from vinyl, we kind of by-passed cassettes (which is not to say we didn’t have any, but rather they were tapes of records my parents owned. My parents loved music, but the idea of buying pre-made cassettes seemed ridiculous. Considering that my parents still listen to cassettes makes me wonder if I have dementia to look forward to when I grow older). So we became one of the first families I knew of that owned a CD player. Which meant that I now had to own CDs.
I remember my first CD like it was yesterday. Instead, it was more like 1988. I had received Huey Lewis and the News’ Sports as a present (great album -- pretend you haven't heard any of the songs on it, I dare you), but seeing how my parents already had that, I figured I’d exchange it for something different. Going to a record store in those days (in other words, days when they were still called “record stores” without any hint of irony) was a little weird, because although they sold CDs, they weren’t necessarily prepared to sell them. And so all their racks and bins were still the ones designed to sell records. So, if you’re ever wondering why CDs used to come in the “long boxes” – those foot long cardboard sleeves that seemed to do nothing but please waste management companies – it’s because record stores needed to be able to use the bins they had, and CDs wouldn’t have been seen.
So there I am, store-credit in hand (well, not really in hand, but . . .), browsing through the bins, and BOOM! it hits me.
D.J. Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince. He’s the DJ, I’m the Rapper.
And a CD collection was born.
And now I’ve added a new one (and that’s how you write an introduction!).
Granted, this “new” one is actually 13 years old (If Johnny-Come-Lately was a corporation – and not simply one that had a bad pun as a name for an impotence drug company – I could definitely be CEO), but it’s fantastic.
In 1994, Jeff Buckley released the album Grace to critical acclaim, and he was on his way. An artist with an amazing voice but no clear genre, he wrote and sang songs that seemed like a mix of folk, rock, jazz, and whatever it is Michael Bublé sings. What’s great about the album is that although it’s eclectic, it’s also clearly Buckley’s, and his voice creates an indelible stamp on each song. “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” and his cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” (quite possibly one of the weirdest pop songs ever written, but beautiful. Fall Out Boy co-wrote their song “Hum Hallelujah” with Cohen for their album Infinity on High, and it’s one of the better songs on that album) are excellent, but the coup de grace is clearly “Last Goodbye.”
For those of you who have no idea who Buckley is, this is probably the song you might recognize without ever knowing who sang it. As far as break-up songs go, it captures all the sweetness of a love that clearly can’t work but wishes it could. It’s haunting, and yet has a great hook, a strong guitar-line, and the strings capture the heartbreak perfectly.
As far as personal lists go, it’s currently in my top ten, in no particular order (which seems to change once a week):
Last Goodbye; Jeff Buckley
“A Change is Going to Come”; Sam Cooke
“Takeover, the Breaks Over” ; Fall Out Boy
“Dance Inside” ; The All-American Rejects
Hangman; Motion City Soundtrack
"September"; Earth, Wind and Fire
“Show Me What You Got (Remix)”; Li’l Wayne
“Try a Little Tenderness”; Otis Redding
“Breathe”; Michelle Branch
“In the Air”; Phil Collins
The best part of the album is the price: I got it for 8 bucks at Virgin. If that’s not a bargain for one of the better albums of the 1990s (I’m saying, throw this in with Life After Death, Nevermind, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill – it’s that good), then hey, you can’t get that Super-Sized Extra Value meal you had your eyes on. So I’m still doing you a favor.
Music has always been important to me, because it was important to my family. A more tonally deaf group of people you probably have never met, but to not be able to sing is not the same thing to not have song. And my family has a song, or that very least, a song list. Amazingly, despite our lack of vocal talent (a lack that, alas, hit me in conjunction with puberty: here’s six years of torment, and we’ll be taking back one of the things that gives you joy), we still managed to sing a great deal. Sing, hum, dance – music was everywhere.
I grew up in the last days of vinyl, and my Fisher-Price record player did it’s job about as well as anything could that found itself in the hands of three boys (there’s a reason they make all their products out of indestructible plastic). Our choices were not limited, but favorites definitely found their way more often than others, including Carol King’s Really Rosie, Alvin and the Chipmunks, a Care-bears record that I can not remember any of the songs, those McDonald’s records that came in the newspaper (if it played the whole song, you won . . . anyone?) and of course John Williams’ score to the Star Wars movies. When we finally moved from vinyl, we kind of by-passed cassettes (which is not to say we didn’t have any, but rather they were tapes of records my parents owned. My parents loved music, but the idea of buying pre-made cassettes seemed ridiculous. Considering that my parents still listen to cassettes makes me wonder if I have dementia to look forward to when I grow older). So we became one of the first families I knew of that owned a CD player. Which meant that I now had to own CDs.
I remember my first CD like it was yesterday. Instead, it was more like 1988. I had received Huey Lewis and the News’ Sports as a present (great album -- pretend you haven't heard any of the songs on it, I dare you), but seeing how my parents already had that, I figured I’d exchange it for something different. Going to a record store in those days (in other words, days when they were still called “record stores” without any hint of irony) was a little weird, because although they sold CDs, they weren’t necessarily prepared to sell them. And so all their racks and bins were still the ones designed to sell records. So, if you’re ever wondering why CDs used to come in the “long boxes” – those foot long cardboard sleeves that seemed to do nothing but please waste management companies – it’s because record stores needed to be able to use the bins they had, and CDs wouldn’t have been seen.
So there I am, store-credit in hand (well, not really in hand, but . . .), browsing through the bins, and BOOM! it hits me.
D.J. Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince. He’s the DJ, I’m the Rapper.
And a CD collection was born.
And now I’ve added a new one (and that’s how you write an introduction!).
Granted, this “new” one is actually 13 years old (If Johnny-Come-Lately was a corporation – and not simply one that had a bad pun as a name for an impotence drug company – I could definitely be CEO), but it’s fantastic.
In 1994, Jeff Buckley released the album Grace to critical acclaim, and he was on his way. An artist with an amazing voice but no clear genre, he wrote and sang songs that seemed like a mix of folk, rock, jazz, and whatever it is Michael Bublé sings. What’s great about the album is that although it’s eclectic, it’s also clearly Buckley’s, and his voice creates an indelible stamp on each song. “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” and his cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” (quite possibly one of the weirdest pop songs ever written, but beautiful. Fall Out Boy co-wrote their song “Hum Hallelujah” with Cohen for their album Infinity on High, and it’s one of the better songs on that album) are excellent, but the coup de grace is clearly “Last Goodbye.”
For those of you who have no idea who Buckley is, this is probably the song you might recognize without ever knowing who sang it. As far as break-up songs go, it captures all the sweetness of a love that clearly can’t work but wishes it could. It’s haunting, and yet has a great hook, a strong guitar-line, and the strings capture the heartbreak perfectly.
As far as personal lists go, it’s currently in my top ten, in no particular order (which seems to change once a week):
Last Goodbye; Jeff Buckley
“A Change is Going to Come”; Sam Cooke
“Takeover, the Breaks Over” ; Fall Out Boy
“Dance Inside” ; The All-American Rejects
Hangman; Motion City Soundtrack
"September"; Earth, Wind and Fire
“Show Me What You Got (Remix)”; Li’l Wayne
“Try a Little Tenderness”; Otis Redding
“Breathe”; Michelle Branch
“In the Air”; Phil Collins
The best part of the album is the price: I got it for 8 bucks at Virgin. If that’s not a bargain for one of the better albums of the 1990s (I’m saying, throw this in with Life After Death, Nevermind, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill – it’s that good), then hey, you can’t get that Super-Sized Extra Value meal you had your eyes on. So I’m still doing you a favor.
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