Ramblings Post #41
when you were a kid, the idea of growing up almost seemed a something that would never happen, and teenager, everything you wanted to do was just a bit of our grasp. Now as I, for lack of better metaphor, round the post for home, I realize that maybe I should have run a little slower. Sometimes being in a hurry is a bad thing. That and you have to learn to lay your cards down sometime...but that's another post.
Updates from the Crisis...
What crisis you ask? Me hitting this damn age milestone, that's what crisis! Who cares about Iran, the economy, gun control, buffalo wing secrets, why I can't get Crunchy Cheez Doodles with any regularity, or why Publix doesn't sell orange kool-aid.... do you know how old I am? This is the line of demarcation. This is the number. This seperates youth from the rest of them. Or well, now, Us. This is the proverbial it.
I recently talked to Schmoopy about the things all men talk about at this point in their lives. And since I can't afford to buy a Porsche or need hair plugs or have a wife to dump for a "fun proportioned exotic entertainer"...my crisis is pretty much limited to actually talking and feeling. I think I inadvertently enjoyed some of the more flashy versions for temporary male insanity that may have been in vogue two or three years ago about five or six years ago. My friend kind of obliquely, in that way that only good friends trying to spare feelings can, put it that I am currently a "great gift in a bad package". She specifically mentioned that I was not ugly, but more that I need to smooth out the fat...er, rough...edges. Okay, she didn't say fat, I did. She reads this from time to time and as I told her when she thought she might have hurt my feelings with package comment: "If you can't be honest with your friends, do you really like them?" .
So gym time, which I've already started, stays a constant.
There are lot of other things I need to do. I need to finish my book. One of my books. Any one of my books. The Caribbean absurd adventure novel, the Journalist intrigue political novel, the goofy crime novel, or anyone of the other concepts rolling around in my brain. Or one of the movie ideas, or the computer game ideas...or something. Or least do the yard work, or get the damn furniture, or start painting or take up line dancing or just do something! I need a sense of accomplishment. School you say? Um...no I say.
Let's just say my life feels a little empty.
But as a pragmatist, I'm a little scared to rush off trying to fill it, as I know I'll only do something I'll regret. I'm usually good for that. Knowing when to hold them and when to fold them sometimes doesn't come with age. So where do we go from here?
In that by "we", I mean "me" and by "go from here", I really mean "do now?" But the other way sounded more ...grown up.
Barkeep...old age already set in. Do I qualify for a senior discount?
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
The obligatory Micheal Jackson Post.
Ramblings Post #40
> in this episode, we find out that everything isn't always as beautiful as it seems. And things happen, just happen, even if we least expect it. And all you can do is roll with it, or get rolled over by it. Either way, you wake up tomorrow and the world goes on. It's easy as A-B-C, it's easy as 1-2-3...
Sporty texted me in class that Micheal Jackson had died the other night.
My first reaction: "Well, Farrah just died. Maybe they've got their white women mixed up."
Sporty still hits me up for important things and this in terms of items of cultural significance certainly qualified. Then somebody else said their husband had sent them the same message. This was just seconds into the dinner break, so I hopped online with the trusty laptop and went to somebody who could get sued for bad info - Yahoo - for confirmation. And bang there it was.
Micheal Jackson, King of Pop, dead at 50.
Talk about out of left field. I was a little sad that it came to this. I was stunned really at the suddeness of it all.
But this leads me back to my MJ theory I've been professing for years.
Whatever do I mean? Well, my theory, I think Micheal Jackson died right around the end of recording Thriller, or somewhere thereabouts. And that in a desperate effort not to let what some saw as masterpiece be sadly handled, some people hired this guy who kinda looked like Mike to pretend to be Mike for a little while...and things got out of hand. Way out of hand.
Why would I expouse this crackpot theory, this obvious bit of horsepucky as credible? Well, people forget that in the early 80's Micheal Jackson was photographed drinking alcohol, regularly seen going to clubs, accused of fathering children out wedlock and generally viewed as acting like a young guy with fame and pocketful of money should act. Then something happened. And suddenly he was hanging out with kids and getting his face redone with the frequency of tire changes. Where did he snap is what most folks want to ask. I say, when did he keel over. I mean thinking in early 1980 terms - before cell phones, 24 hour entertainment news, internet, and lately twitter - how hard would it have been for someone to disappear for a few weeks? And with the plastic surgery story the impostor only had to look close, not exactly.
I'm just saying.
Back to the actual situation though, as sad and hard as it is for his family and his kids, if you are fan you almost feel a odd sense of relief that the weirdness is over, that it will finally go back to being about Micheal's music. Well, once the autopsy finishes and as Liza Minnelli put it "all hell breaks loose", then it can go back to being about the music.
And if you think Tupac put out posthumous albums, I understand Mike must have 100+ recorded songs that never made it onto an album from way back, and if you think those aren't about to get released...you must be from Alabama. But then, it will be about the music again. There will be no distraction of the MJ circus to make you think of anything else but the songs. So in that way, the man who helped define MTV and drive music towards being about the spectacle, might be the same person who inadvertently drives it back to being just about the music.
In the interest of full disclosure, I never really was much of Micheal Jackson fan. I liked "Dirty Diana" and a few of his songs from Off The Wall, but to me it wasn't soul moving. It was okay, and better than a lot of the music of today, but it just never really grabbed me. He was always more of a Jackson, than just Micheal to me.
And if you grew up when I grew up, that was more than enough.
> in this episode, we find out that everything isn't always as beautiful as it seems. And things happen, just happen, even if we least expect it. And all you can do is roll with it, or get rolled over by it. Either way, you wake up tomorrow and the world goes on. It's easy as A-B-C, it's easy as 1-2-3...
Sporty texted me in class that Micheal Jackson had died the other night.
My first reaction: "Well, Farrah just died. Maybe they've got their white women mixed up."
Sporty still hits me up for important things and this in terms of items of cultural significance certainly qualified. Then somebody else said their husband had sent them the same message. This was just seconds into the dinner break, so I hopped online with the trusty laptop and went to somebody who could get sued for bad info - Yahoo - for confirmation. And bang there it was.
Micheal Jackson, King of Pop, dead at 50.
Talk about out of left field. I was a little sad that it came to this. I was stunned really at the suddeness of it all.
But this leads me back to my MJ theory I've been professing for years.
Whatever do I mean? Well, my theory, I think Micheal Jackson died right around the end of recording Thriller, or somewhere thereabouts. And that in a desperate effort not to let what some saw as masterpiece be sadly handled, some people hired this guy who kinda looked like Mike to pretend to be Mike for a little while...and things got out of hand. Way out of hand.
Why would I expouse this crackpot theory, this obvious bit of horsepucky as credible? Well, people forget that in the early 80's Micheal Jackson was photographed drinking alcohol, regularly seen going to clubs, accused of fathering children out wedlock and generally viewed as acting like a young guy with fame and pocketful of money should act. Then something happened. And suddenly he was hanging out with kids and getting his face redone with the frequency of tire changes. Where did he snap is what most folks want to ask. I say, when did he keel over. I mean thinking in early 1980 terms - before cell phones, 24 hour entertainment news, internet, and lately twitter - how hard would it have been for someone to disappear for a few weeks? And with the plastic surgery story the impostor only had to look close, not exactly.
I'm just saying.
Back to the actual situation though, as sad and hard as it is for his family and his kids, if you are fan you almost feel a odd sense of relief that the weirdness is over, that it will finally go back to being about Micheal's music. Well, once the autopsy finishes and as Liza Minnelli put it "all hell breaks loose", then it can go back to being about the music.
And if you think Tupac put out posthumous albums, I understand Mike must have 100+ recorded songs that never made it onto an album from way back, and if you think those aren't about to get released...you must be from Alabama. But then, it will be about the music again. There will be no distraction of the MJ circus to make you think of anything else but the songs. So in that way, the man who helped define MTV and drive music towards being about the spectacle, might be the same person who inadvertently drives it back to being just about the music.
In the interest of full disclosure, I never really was much of Micheal Jackson fan. I liked "Dirty Diana" and a few of his songs from Off The Wall, but to me it wasn't soul moving. It was okay, and better than a lot of the music of today, but it just never really grabbed me. He was always more of a Jackson, than just Micheal to me.
And if you grew up when I grew up, that was more than enough.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Atlanta 2009
Ramblings Post #39
I once left a message on Spanky's phone that consisted of me running out the allotted time (and it must have been five or eight minutes) with me simply repeating the word "Chicken" over and over, with different pronunciations for variety. I think I might have been mildly deranged. This memory has just about nothing to do with the post that follows, but I thought it needed to be said.
I miss Atlanta
Which is an odd statement for me to make, considering I live in Atlanta. And I don't mean I live in one of the many far flung suburbs of the jewel of the south, so far away that technically you only visit Atlanta every so often, but still can claim it. No, I live inside of I-285, or as we say "inside the perimeter". I can be at the back of GA tech, midtown Atlanta, in less than 10 minutes if I get the lights.
Like most places I have ever lived, it's one of those towns where exciting things are happening if you know where to go. There are festivals, concerts, they show movies in the park at night, there are a thousand little bistros and boutiques, there are classes you can take and plays to see, plucky little live bands, performance pieces and and art enclaves and cafes and it's just a vibrant city that just feels alive. And for the past eleven months I haven't seen any of it, my days consumed with work, my evenings with school and my weekends with studying. And by going part-time, I have agreed to do this for the next three or more years, nearly eleven months out of the year. Which sucks.
And since the many varied reasons I agreed to attend law school: I needed a mental challenge, all my friends are lawyers, I'm tired of my job, etc and so on, don't really add up to a love for all things legal, that last kick of what made me finally bite the bullet looms large.
I went to law school partly to help me forget Sporty.
Which sounds trite, until you consider how many other things in my life (and probably in yours too) that you initally started for the weakest of reasons ( I was bored, it was Tuesday, I had a ton of peanut butter and goat cheese, etc) but later came to love and to eventually master. Looking at my classmates, I begin to believe I made one mistake however, as I was already behind the curve in so many other aspects of a complete life: only just bought the house, single and apparently staying that way, no kids, no real investment portfolio. etc. And when I consider the time and energy that will be needed at the end of the "educational aspect" trying to get established....
...let's just say unless fate and an accident happens, my mother shouldn't look forward to grand kids anytime soon.
I think a lot this comes from that upcoming birth milestone which I when I was twenty five seemed like a million years away, but no I talk to women in my age group who have kids in college, and my mind kind of twitches. Let's just say I'm not where I intended to be, geographically, spiritually, mentally, emotionally....fill in any more -ally's you can think of. And the focus I'm going to have to give law school is going to cripple everything else for while.
Which puts getting up to the curve of where my life is supposed to be that much further off of the makeup schedule. At least before, when I was behind the curve, I was having so much fun I didn't really notice.
*sigh*
Barkeep, i need to sip from the fount of wisdom, and sup from the well of peace. No? Do you have whiskey then?
I once left a message on Spanky's phone that consisted of me running out the allotted time (and it must have been five or eight minutes) with me simply repeating the word "Chicken" over and over, with different pronunciations for variety. I think I might have been mildly deranged. This memory has just about nothing to do with the post that follows, but I thought it needed to be said.
I miss Atlanta
Which is an odd statement for me to make, considering I live in Atlanta. And I don't mean I live in one of the many far flung suburbs of the jewel of the south, so far away that technically you only visit Atlanta every so often, but still can claim it. No, I live inside of I-285, or as we say "inside the perimeter". I can be at the back of GA tech, midtown Atlanta, in less than 10 minutes if I get the lights.
Like most places I have ever lived, it's one of those towns where exciting things are happening if you know where to go. There are festivals, concerts, they show movies in the park at night, there are a thousand little bistros and boutiques, there are classes you can take and plays to see, plucky little live bands, performance pieces and and art enclaves and cafes and it's just a vibrant city that just feels alive. And for the past eleven months I haven't seen any of it, my days consumed with work, my evenings with school and my weekends with studying. And by going part-time, I have agreed to do this for the next three or more years, nearly eleven months out of the year. Which sucks.
And since the many varied reasons I agreed to attend law school: I needed a mental challenge, all my friends are lawyers, I'm tired of my job, etc and so on, don't really add up to a love for all things legal, that last kick of what made me finally bite the bullet looms large.
I went to law school partly to help me forget Sporty.
Which sounds trite, until you consider how many other things in my life (and probably in yours too) that you initally started for the weakest of reasons ( I was bored, it was Tuesday, I had a ton of peanut butter and goat cheese, etc) but later came to love and to eventually master. Looking at my classmates, I begin to believe I made one mistake however, as I was already behind the curve in so many other aspects of a complete life: only just bought the house, single and apparently staying that way, no kids, no real investment portfolio. etc. And when I consider the time and energy that will be needed at the end of the "educational aspect" trying to get established....
...let's just say unless fate and an accident happens, my mother shouldn't look forward to grand kids anytime soon.
I think a lot this comes from that upcoming birth milestone which I when I was twenty five seemed like a million years away, but no I talk to women in my age group who have kids in college, and my mind kind of twitches. Let's just say I'm not where I intended to be, geographically, spiritually, mentally, emotionally....fill in any more -ally's you can think of. And the focus I'm going to have to give law school is going to cripple everything else for while.
Which puts getting up to the curve of where my life is supposed to be that much further off of the makeup schedule. At least before, when I was behind the curve, I was having so much fun I didn't really notice.
*sigh*
Barkeep, i need to sip from the fount of wisdom, and sup from the well of peace. No? Do you have whiskey then?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Thinking about odd things...
Ramblings Post #38
I started realizing I was old when home renovation magazines became as interesting as photos that formerly had held my attention since hormones hit when I was thirteen. Um, wait check that...since I was four or five. I suddenly remembered this thing I used to do with underwear catalogs. Don't get me wrong, I'm still interested in the same ole same ole...but let's just say I've added some levels of complexity. Damned maturity.
How do you know you're too old and too lonely?
When as a guy, you start to imagine getting married like it's a good thing.
Yes, I will admit, I have imagined my own nuptials, and no the bride is not in a mini-skirt, and no it does not take place in a bar with hot wings served between vows nor is the wedding gown formfitting around bride's ass....well, not obviously. It's not like I've planned anything elaborate, or even given the details any thought (and from my peoples that is married, I understand there are lots and lots of details), but I do know how I would like to feel. And yes, I've mentally put a person or two in that slot to see how it would work.
But I'm an old fashioned guy. I only plan to do it once, so the woman needs to be special. I'm not one for the apparently modern trend of "taking a shot" that seems to permeate our current national psyche regarding matrimony and keeps divorce lawyers driving Porsches. That and I realize now that I really want her to be my friend as much as a lover, as mathematically, no matter how much nudity I intend or wish, we'll still more than likely spend more time together with our clothes on than with them off. Thus, I'll need to like her, to talk to her, to be with her. And believe it or not, that liking doesn't always happen when you love someone (see my earlier comment involving divorce lawyers).
A woman friend of mine once told me that "there is the person you like, the person you love, and the person you lust after. And rarely do ever find them in the same person."
But as of late however, in my mind marriage is coming across more like the scene in the movie the Hangover, where I wake up missing a tooth, only the girl is still there and I'm not too sure she speaks English. Use your imagination.
Sad.
As I've said before, it's becoming clear to me that despite the charm, the wit, compassion, generosity, the style and beguiling nature that fate has blessed me with, to the modern black woman that only seems to count if it comes with a six pack and six figures. Both of which I am currently lacking. And even as the women of this modern age demand that men learn to love them no matter their size...they find no irony is turning the tables and requesting only man candy.
If I was studying to be a shaman holy man online...
In any case, I find it an odd thing to think about. I'm fairly certain I'm not the first man to admit this. Am I? I would like to think I shows a certain maturity and grace, that comes from being able to admit I have emotions other than sports anger, hungry, sex, gambling angry, dirty joke humor and filthy sex.
But looking at where I am now...and where I would like to be in five years...this mental construct might might the only wedding I get.
Do you have to be Jewish to have a Jewish Wedding? I'm just asking.
Barkeep...long flute of the champagne. Make it Korbel.
I started realizing I was old when home renovation magazines became as interesting as photos that formerly had held my attention since hormones hit when I was thirteen. Um, wait check that...since I was four or five. I suddenly remembered this thing I used to do with underwear catalogs. Don't get me wrong, I'm still interested in the same ole same ole...but let's just say I've added some levels of complexity. Damned maturity.
How do you know you're too old and too lonely?
When as a guy, you start to imagine getting married like it's a good thing.
Yes, I will admit, I have imagined my own nuptials, and no the bride is not in a mini-skirt, and no it does not take place in a bar with hot wings served between vows nor is the wedding gown formfitting around bride's ass....well, not obviously. It's not like I've planned anything elaborate, or even given the details any thought (and from my peoples that is married, I understand there are lots and lots of details), but I do know how I would like to feel. And yes, I've mentally put a person or two in that slot to see how it would work.
But I'm an old fashioned guy. I only plan to do it once, so the woman needs to be special. I'm not one for the apparently modern trend of "taking a shot" that seems to permeate our current national psyche regarding matrimony and keeps divorce lawyers driving Porsches. That and I realize now that I really want her to be my friend as much as a lover, as mathematically, no matter how much nudity I intend or wish, we'll still more than likely spend more time together with our clothes on than with them off. Thus, I'll need to like her, to talk to her, to be with her. And believe it or not, that liking doesn't always happen when you love someone (see my earlier comment involving divorce lawyers).
A woman friend of mine once told me that "there is the person you like, the person you love, and the person you lust after. And rarely do ever find them in the same person."
But as of late however, in my mind marriage is coming across more like the scene in the movie the Hangover, where I wake up missing a tooth, only the girl is still there and I'm not too sure she speaks English. Use your imagination.
Sad.
As I've said before, it's becoming clear to me that despite the charm, the wit, compassion, generosity, the style and beguiling nature that fate has blessed me with, to the modern black woman that only seems to count if it comes with a six pack and six figures. Both of which I am currently lacking. And even as the women of this modern age demand that men learn to love them no matter their size...they find no irony is turning the tables and requesting only man candy.
If I was studying to be a shaman holy man online...
In any case, I find it an odd thing to think about. I'm fairly certain I'm not the first man to admit this. Am I? I would like to think I shows a certain maturity and grace, that comes from being able to admit I have emotions other than sports anger, hungry, sex, gambling angry, dirty joke humor and filthy sex.
But looking at where I am now...and where I would like to be in five years...this mental construct might might the only wedding I get.
Do you have to be Jewish to have a Jewish Wedding? I'm just asking.
Barkeep...long flute of the champagne. Make it Korbel.
Monday, June 15, 2009
If one more thing goes left...
Ramblings Post #37
Sometimes you get frustrated. And you can sit back, assess the situation, figure out what you need to do and then execute. Or you can pick up a trash can and broken bottle and go to war. And if you're educated enough, cultured enough and see the whole picture...sometimes that trash can can feel oh so light.
I'm that far from done.
Like I need one more thing to go wrong, one more concept to not be valid, one more way of thinking to proved a fallacy within minutes of a conclusion rather than the beginning....
Classes wrapping up in two or three weeks. My ill timed and not exactly welcomed birthday around the corner with all the attached and appropriate mental psychosis and social significance that brings, the weight thing, the job thing, and now something I thought I could bump back...well it turns out maybe I can't...so add one more time, consuming, multi-part - "hey, make a life decision" moments suddenly pops up and I'm like ....
...for real? Again? So soon? Damn.
Looking back, and really thinking about it, you would be astounded by how many life altering decisions you've made that going into them at the time, didn't look all that significant. This little bit of law school I've managed to stumble through has subtly moved some of the foreseeability brain cells into the working category, and so as of late, I've become a little more astute as to the possibility of future issue with what formerly were simple decisions. I'm not talking about the black boxer briefs vs the striped, either. Little concepts like being on time, taking five minutes to review something, checking the gas gauge when you get in the car - little things like that have huge impacts on ...the rest of your life.
And in the cases as of late, the timing hasn't been a big help either. Three weeks, nothing...then bang, everything wants to happen the same five days? Why is God toying with me? I'd like to speak to someone in accounts at the Bank of Karma, I swear there is an error somewhere.
All I need now is some stupidity to happen.
Because the room probably could use a laugh right about now. I know I could.
Barkeep. Water and puce angellaious.
Sometimes you get frustrated. And you can sit back, assess the situation, figure out what you need to do and then execute. Or you can pick up a trash can and broken bottle and go to war. And if you're educated enough, cultured enough and see the whole picture...sometimes that trash can can feel oh so light.
I'm that far from done.
Like I need one more thing to go wrong, one more concept to not be valid, one more way of thinking to proved a fallacy within minutes of a conclusion rather than the beginning....
Classes wrapping up in two or three weeks. My ill timed and not exactly welcomed birthday around the corner with all the attached and appropriate mental psychosis and social significance that brings, the weight thing, the job thing, and now something I thought I could bump back...well it turns out maybe I can't...so add one more time, consuming, multi-part - "hey, make a life decision" moments suddenly pops up and I'm like ....
...for real? Again? So soon? Damn.
Looking back, and really thinking about it, you would be astounded by how many life altering decisions you've made that going into them at the time, didn't look all that significant. This little bit of law school I've managed to stumble through has subtly moved some of the foreseeability brain cells into the working category, and so as of late, I've become a little more astute as to the possibility of future issue with what formerly were simple decisions. I'm not talking about the black boxer briefs vs the striped, either. Little concepts like being on time, taking five minutes to review something, checking the gas gauge when you get in the car - little things like that have huge impacts on ...the rest of your life.
And in the cases as of late, the timing hasn't been a big help either. Three weeks, nothing...then bang, everything wants to happen the same five days? Why is God toying with me? I'd like to speak to someone in accounts at the Bank of Karma, I swear there is an error somewhere.
All I need now is some stupidity to happen.
Because the room probably could use a laugh right about now. I know I could.
Barkeep. Water and puce angellaious.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
I saw this movie right...
Ramblings Post #36
There are things probably best left unsaid. I mean there are certain things when you say them that cast a certain light upon you now and forevermore. Like, admitting you're scared of ballerinas. It might be because your older sister used to beat you up after ballet practice, but if you don't explain yourself, the first admission is probably better off a secret. So what does that have to do with this post? Nothing. Just thought I'd say that.
This is a movie rant. I have to get a few things off my chest.
First, I have a bad movie habit.
This weekend, on one of the pay movie channels, I watched Tropic Thunder. For the first time. Ever.
Now, this is interesting because I already have a copy of Tropic Thunder that I have never watched. I had thought about going to see it, but the only movies I'd been to in the past five years had been with Sporty, so I gave it a pass, even though I'd heard it was hilarious. Some months later walking through Blockbuster, I spotted the movie on a rack and decided to buy a copy because I'd never gone to go see it, but the film was supposed to be hilarious. Needless to say having paid for it, I couldn't find time to watch it until it came on TV while I wasn't paying attention.
And it was Hilarious.
And I can think of at least two or three other movies I've purchased and never watched. Okay, I watched the first half of Pineapple Express, but I can't think of another film that I've paid for and watched. I will eventually one day, but I think I did the same with "Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins", "First Sunday", "Superbad" and "Smoking Aces", and I still have "Cloverfield", "The Dark Knight" and two or three others to go. All purchased, all never watched.
Why do I do that?
Sidenote: I don't normally like Tom Cruise. He is where Nic Cage appears to be headed film selection-wise: All his characters are heroes, or at worst badly written anti-heroes, and dimensionally as flat as they come. It's as though half of male Hollywood is all caught up in the Gary Cooper syndrome. But Tom Cruises performance as the ruthless studio head Les Grossman was inspired. You almost want his character to pop up in something else just so you can enjoy his scenery chewing performance.
Second, how exactly does the Academy pick the the Oscars?
I mean, the Oscar winners are for the most part, pretentious bullshit. How hard is it play the roles they pick for winners? No period drama should ever win again, and biopics of people alive in the last 25 years are self serving message movies not fit for viewing in most cases (I might own Milk, I dunno. It wouldn't matter, because I have not watched it). Playing someone, i.e., mimicking their mannerisms and cadences is hokey - see: Ali with Will Smith, whereas inhabiting them as a consciousness is harder - see Frost/Nixon.
But building a character from scratch? Wouldn't that be harder than simply trying to nail down an existing person? I mean you know when you've got a live character down, a made up one should be harder. How would you know when you're done?
I bring this up because in Tropic Thunder, Robert Downey Jr playing supreme method actor Kirk Lazurus remains in character at all times as the black Lincoln Osirus, in part playing as Samuel Jackson and convincingly...how is that not Oscar-Worthy? And the afore mentioned Tom Cruise, playing so far against type he might have run over himself coming back around.
What won last year? Okay, wait, I haven't seen Slumdog Millionaire either...so maybe it was better, but why does the Academy think comedy is easy? When is the last time a comedy won Best Picture?
Barkeep, I intend to shoot a movie one day, give me something to shut me up!
There are things probably best left unsaid. I mean there are certain things when you say them that cast a certain light upon you now and forevermore. Like, admitting you're scared of ballerinas. It might be because your older sister used to beat you up after ballet practice, but if you don't explain yourself, the first admission is probably better off a secret. So what does that have to do with this post? Nothing. Just thought I'd say that.
This is a movie rant. I have to get a few things off my chest.
First, I have a bad movie habit.
This weekend, on one of the pay movie channels, I watched Tropic Thunder. For the first time. Ever.
Now, this is interesting because I already have a copy of Tropic Thunder that I have never watched. I had thought about going to see it, but the only movies I'd been to in the past five years had been with Sporty, so I gave it a pass, even though I'd heard it was hilarious. Some months later walking through Blockbuster, I spotted the movie on a rack and decided to buy a copy because I'd never gone to go see it, but the film was supposed to be hilarious. Needless to say having paid for it, I couldn't find time to watch it until it came on TV while I wasn't paying attention.
And it was Hilarious.
And I can think of at least two or three other movies I've purchased and never watched. Okay, I watched the first half of Pineapple Express, but I can't think of another film that I've paid for and watched. I will eventually one day, but I think I did the same with "Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins", "First Sunday", "Superbad" and "Smoking Aces", and I still have "Cloverfield", "The Dark Knight" and two or three others to go. All purchased, all never watched.
Why do I do that?
Sidenote: I don't normally like Tom Cruise. He is where Nic Cage appears to be headed film selection-wise: All his characters are heroes, or at worst badly written anti-heroes, and dimensionally as flat as they come. It's as though half of male Hollywood is all caught up in the Gary Cooper syndrome. But Tom Cruises performance as the ruthless studio head Les Grossman was inspired. You almost want his character to pop up in something else just so you can enjoy his scenery chewing performance.
Second, how exactly does the Academy pick the the Oscars?
I mean, the Oscar winners are for the most part, pretentious bullshit. How hard is it play the roles they pick for winners? No period drama should ever win again, and biopics of people alive in the last 25 years are self serving message movies not fit for viewing in most cases (I might own Milk, I dunno. It wouldn't matter, because I have not watched it). Playing someone, i.e., mimicking their mannerisms and cadences is hokey - see: Ali with Will Smith, whereas inhabiting them as a consciousness is harder - see Frost/Nixon.
But building a character from scratch? Wouldn't that be harder than simply trying to nail down an existing person? I mean you know when you've got a live character down, a made up one should be harder. How would you know when you're done?
I bring this up because in Tropic Thunder, Robert Downey Jr playing supreme method actor Kirk Lazurus remains in character at all times as the black Lincoln Osirus, in part playing as Samuel Jackson and convincingly...how is that not Oscar-Worthy? And the afore mentioned Tom Cruise, playing so far against type he might have run over himself coming back around.
What won last year? Okay, wait, I haven't seen Slumdog Millionaire either...so maybe it was better, but why does the Academy think comedy is easy? When is the last time a comedy won Best Picture?
Barkeep, I intend to shoot a movie one day, give me something to shut me up!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
New Lessons from the Obama Presidency
Internet Fodder Post #3
You ever see something on the internet while you're just browsing and have something to say about it, but realize that you don't have the vast forum that whoever you read has, so that you can put your word to the people's ear in such a like fashion? Well, I do. But I do have a forum, maybe not as vast or as neatly kept, and I'm going to spout off like the last person. Well, maybe not spout off, but at least say something....
The internet site theRoot.com has an interesting article on what Single Women could learn from Michelle Obama, asking the question would your average black woman today have even considered dating a guy who was, at that time, a broke big eared community organizer with a funny name.
Who knew? I mean..really?
It was as though they had unleashed the lions at the Roman Colosseum the comments were so thick with criticism.
"it's so sad to see silly black women like the author of this pathetic piece of so-called writing and, predictably, black men telling black women how flawed we are what we need to do to be appealing to black men, blah blah blah."
"Nonetheless, it seems that the most generous and underappreciated of all women are still getting blamed for the social ills of the world..."
"He was not hostile to black women, or color-struck. If he was raised by blacks, he'd share the contempt they all have for black women."
And that's just a quick sample from ten on the first page of the comments when I read (there were a lot reposts. People wanted to make sure they got heard!). The comments were so rife with defensiveness and animosity to the concept that maybe, just maybe, the black woman might be some of the cause of her own problems, that it struck me there might be a real problem. Logic says if the there is an issue and the only common denominator is you, then you must be the problem. Response after response asked why should the woman lower her standards instead of the man meeting those standards? Obviously something was wrong with the man, not the woman. And it continued...
The funnier part of this, in my opinion, is the article wasn't about lowering standards. The article as written was about even after a guy has met the basic standards of education, employment and some social standing, Type A women found the new hurdles and other grounds to reject him, from his lack of aggressive nature, or his lack of an appropriate car, or that he might like Star Trek, or his height, or that he drank hot chocolate instead of coffee.
The standard that the author, herself a Type A personality woman of color, had asked her sisters to reconsider was the grading between the A+ and B+. The responses she got seemed to cover the anger of the idea of giving everyone a passing grade for showing up. It's though they have an argument on deck, ready for the issue. People, reading is fundamental.
One of the reasons I'm on my health kick is the realization that although I have a sparkling wit and charming personality, a refined palate and adventurous soul, a generous and loving nature, am degreed, employed and attempting to better myself with a graduate education, as well as being unfailingly modest (ha!), it turns out all that means a lot less if you don't have six pack abs or good bit of personal "funding."
There I said it.
So the question isn't who is right and who is wrong in the this dance of the sexes. Both sides are flawed to some degree, and should admit it. And after that we all need to take the time to re-assess who we are and what we really do bring to the table. Remember the old proverb: You cannot reward a man with that which he does not value.
And yes, I'm sorry ladies, it means you might have to date the brother with the ashy toes. Who knows, he might be worth keeping a little bottle of lotion in your purse.
Barkeep...whatever, I'm tired of arguing this point.
You ever see something on the internet while you're just browsing and have something to say about it, but realize that you don't have the vast forum that whoever you read has, so that you can put your word to the people's ear in such a like fashion? Well, I do. But I do have a forum, maybe not as vast or as neatly kept, and I'm going to spout off like the last person. Well, maybe not spout off, but at least say something....
The internet site theRoot.com has an interesting article on what Single Women could learn from Michelle Obama, asking the question would your average black woman today have even considered dating a guy who was, at that time, a broke big eared community organizer with a funny name.
Who knew? I mean..really?It was as though they had unleashed the lions at the Roman Colosseum the comments were so thick with criticism.
"it's so sad to see silly black women like the author of this pathetic piece of so-called writing and, predictably, black men telling black women how flawed we are what we need to do to be appealing to black men, blah blah blah."
"Nonetheless, it seems that the most generous and underappreciated of all women are still getting blamed for the social ills of the world..."
"He was not hostile to black women, or color-struck. If he was raised by blacks, he'd share the contempt they all have for black women."
And that's just a quick sample from ten on the first page of the comments when I read (there were a lot reposts. People wanted to make sure they got heard!). The comments were so rife with defensiveness and animosity to the concept that maybe, just maybe, the black woman might be some of the cause of her own problems, that it struck me there might be a real problem. Logic says if the there is an issue and the only common denominator is you, then you must be the problem. Response after response asked why should the woman lower her standards instead of the man meeting those standards? Obviously something was wrong with the man, not the woman. And it continued...
The funnier part of this, in my opinion, is the article wasn't about lowering standards. The article as written was about even after a guy has met the basic standards of education, employment and some social standing, Type A women found the new hurdles and other grounds to reject him, from his lack of aggressive nature, or his lack of an appropriate car, or that he might like Star Trek, or his height, or that he drank hot chocolate instead of coffee.
The standard that the author, herself a Type A personality woman of color, had asked her sisters to reconsider was the grading between the A+ and B+. The responses she got seemed to cover the anger of the idea of giving everyone a passing grade for showing up. It's though they have an argument on deck, ready for the issue. People, reading is fundamental.
One of the reasons I'm on my health kick is the realization that although I have a sparkling wit and charming personality, a refined palate and adventurous soul, a generous and loving nature, am degreed, employed and attempting to better myself with a graduate education, as well as being unfailingly modest (ha!), it turns out all that means a lot less if you don't have six pack abs or good bit of personal "funding."
There I said it.
So the question isn't who is right and who is wrong in the this dance of the sexes. Both sides are flawed to some degree, and should admit it. And after that we all need to take the time to re-assess who we are and what we really do bring to the table. Remember the old proverb: You cannot reward a man with that which he does not value.
And yes, I'm sorry ladies, it means you might have to date the brother with the ashy toes. Who knows, he might be worth keeping a little bottle of lotion in your purse.
Barkeep...whatever, I'm tired of arguing this point.
Friday, June 5, 2009
A Week Without Food
Ramblings Post #35
Change is constant. And that's all I have to say about that. I find myself not a crossroads, but rather at one of those little benches at the side of the path I've chosen, where a weary traveler can sit for a minute and contemplate there scenery on the path they've chosen. And honestly from where I'm sitting, I'm hoping the broad vistas of majestic yadda yadda show up soon, because where I am sucks.
It's odd. I must have ten or fifteen seasoned pieces of steak in freezer. Three or four chicken breasts. Two packages of porkchops. Those frozen pizza rolls that are so good with a little garlic salt and fresh pepper. Frozen whiting. Frozen bread. Mayfield vanilla ice cream. Hot dogs. Hashbrowns. Three caches of ground beef. And whole bunch of stuff I probably need to throw out because I don't even remember what's in the foil.
And this week my diet consisted of a V8 for breakfast, an Arden's Garden smoothie (when I can remember) as a snack, a smoothie from Smoothie King and tomato soup for dinner.
I did this for a whole bunch of reasons. In part I needed to get my mind right for working out. Thomas was doing it and I did it in part in solidarity (and no, I'm going to add on another week like he keeps asking). In part my digestive system needed the break anyway. In part because I eat too much of the wrong stuff and needed to cleanse my palate. In part to stop looking and feeling bloated. In part because I'm getting old and need to correct.
I'm calling it at a five days because around day three I had a few moments where my body felt supremely weak. Last time I felt that bad I was already in a hospital room, so repeats of the sensation are not looked forward to. I'm calling it at five days because working out and these extremely reduced calories are not a good combination, as I'm repeatedly being told. I'm also calling it at five because actually healthy people are starting to annoy me. - I ran into Slim (who I hadn't seen in a while) and she immediately wanted to go into juicing strategies, content listings and where I got my juice. I was too ashamed to tell her I bought it at Publix, so I stayed vague. - my other buddies keep asking me if this is it, what's the business, when am I gonna get to the good part? And since the cardio and other functions are on the agenda, I'm getting a little testy about explaining that it's coming
And when your whole day is work, school (and or studying) and home...with little respite or individual excitement or entertainment... you need something.
And though I'm not pigging out, I need a little nosh.
Today was National Doughnut day. No doughnuts.
Today they served us free lunch at work...and for the first time in a while a decent spread. No food.
Today I'm supposed to meet friends after work. I can't eat or drink anything there.
Today it is nearly 5pm...and all I've had was that V8 because I keep getting interrupted.
I already have a deep seated (okay, mildly psychotic) need to be included in the happenings around me....and my schedule was keeping me from that, and now my diet is in the way as my schedule finally relaxed....and someone is suggesting another week of self torture putting up obstacles between me and enjoying life? The phrase "are you high?" comes to mind.
I'm going to get in shape. I liked the mornings in the park, the running and other stuff. I want the trim waist line and the ass you can bounce a quarter off of. I want to feeling you get when you've started a good sweat going, that elation from exertion I used to get. But has to be a my pace. I hate when I say I'm thinking about starting to get in shape and some over healthy individual (with gobs of free time and no social life) suggests for a start I run 5 miles the first day, or like Thomas who suggested I fast for 60 days, or something crazy like that. You don't start with Mount Everest! And I know to you - "healthians" - I know what you suggest doesn't seem like much, but from the other side of that conversation, it just shows how you really don't listen.
Ten pushups in the morning to start. No, it doesn't sound like much, but it is better than nothing. And ten becomes twenty. And twenty becomes thirty. Then onto fifty and a few months from now, a hundred. And much like the journey of thousand miles starts with a single step, I will get there. Eventually.
I got my LA fitness membership. I got my new sneaks with the gel insoles. I got new shorts from Target, people who seem to understand the term "pair of grey sweat shorts". And I got week where I proved to myself, I can put my mind to it.
Barkeep. Whiskey. I'll be on Wheatgrass and Goat Weed from here on in. One for the road!
Change is constant. And that's all I have to say about that. I find myself not a crossroads, but rather at one of those little benches at the side of the path I've chosen, where a weary traveler can sit for a minute and contemplate there scenery on the path they've chosen. And honestly from where I'm sitting, I'm hoping the broad vistas of majestic yadda yadda show up soon, because where I am sucks.
It's odd. I must have ten or fifteen seasoned pieces of steak in freezer. Three or four chicken breasts. Two packages of porkchops. Those frozen pizza rolls that are so good with a little garlic salt and fresh pepper. Frozen whiting. Frozen bread. Mayfield vanilla ice cream. Hot dogs. Hashbrowns. Three caches of ground beef. And whole bunch of stuff I probably need to throw out because I don't even remember what's in the foil.
I want a one inch thick porterhouse, with a baked potato drenched in butter, and yeast rolls on the side.
And this week my diet consisted of a V8 for breakfast, an Arden's Garden smoothie (when I can remember) as a snack, a smoothie from Smoothie King and tomato soup for dinner.
I did this for a whole bunch of reasons. In part I needed to get my mind right for working out. Thomas was doing it and I did it in part in solidarity (and no, I'm going to add on another week like he keeps asking). In part my digestive system needed the break anyway. In part because I eat too much of the wrong stuff and needed to cleanse my palate. In part to stop looking and feeling bloated. In part because I'm getting old and need to correct.
I am so craving a chili dog with onions and some really greasy fries.
I'm calling it at a five days because around day three I had a few moments where my body felt supremely weak. Last time I felt that bad I was already in a hospital room, so repeats of the sensation are not looked forward to. I'm calling it at five days because working out and these extremely reduced calories are not a good combination, as I'm repeatedly being told. I'm also calling it at five because actually healthy people are starting to annoy me. - I ran into Slim (who I hadn't seen in a while) and she immediately wanted to go into juicing strategies, content listings and where I got my juice. I was too ashamed to tell her I bought it at Publix, so I stayed vague. - my other buddies keep asking me if this is it, what's the business, when am I gonna get to the good part? And since the cardio and other functions are on the agenda, I'm getting a little testy about explaining that it's coming
I would like Honey BBQ wings, fried extra crispy and some crinkle cut fries.
And when your whole day is work, school (and or studying) and home...with little respite or individual excitement or entertainment... you need something.
And though I'm not pigging out, I need a little nosh.
Today was National Doughnut day. No doughnuts.
Today they served us free lunch at work...and for the first time in a while a decent spread. No food.
Today I'm supposed to meet friends after work. I can't eat or drink anything there.
Today it is nearly 5pm...and all I've had was that V8 because I keep getting interrupted.
I could go for a Double Sausage and Double Pepperoni pizza, with garlic butter for the crusts.
I already have a deep seated (okay, mildly psychotic) need to be included in the happenings around me....and my schedule was keeping me from that, and now my diet is in the way as my schedule finally relaxed....and someone is suggesting another week of self torture putting up obstacles between me and enjoying life? The phrase "are you high?" comes to mind.
I'm going to get in shape. I liked the mornings in the park, the running and other stuff. I want the trim waist line and the ass you can bounce a quarter off of. I want to feeling you get when you've started a good sweat going, that elation from exertion I used to get. But has to be a my pace. I hate when I say I'm thinking about starting to get in shape and some over healthy individual (with gobs of free time and no social life) suggests for a start I run 5 miles the first day, or like Thomas who suggested I fast for 60 days, or something crazy like that. You don't start with Mount Everest! And I know to you - "healthians" - I know what you suggest doesn't seem like much, but from the other side of that conversation, it just shows how you really don't listen.
I love BBQ pork spare ribs, beans and texas toast, with corn on the cob and slaw.
Ten pushups in the morning to start. No, it doesn't sound like much, but it is better than nothing. And ten becomes twenty. And twenty becomes thirty. Then onto fifty and a few months from now, a hundred. And much like the journey of thousand miles starts with a single step, I will get there. Eventually.
Cheez Doodles.
I got my LA fitness membership. I got my new sneaks with the gel insoles. I got new shorts from Target, people who seem to understand the term "pair of grey sweat shorts". And I got week where I proved to myself, I can put my mind to it.
Barkeep. Whiskey. I'll be on Wheatgrass and Goat Weed from here on in. One for the road!
Monday, June 1, 2009
I'm Juice, Baby!
Ramblings Post #34
You never know what you can do until you try. And then like an idiot, there are things you probably shouldn't be trying. Skydiving comes to mind. The idea of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane just doesn't strike me as too bright. Other bright ideas that would show either I'm a sad old man or have just come to my senses spring to mind, but I won't go there. In any case, I'm giving something new a whirl, and if it don't work...well, at least I tried.
It's a Monday and I'm juice.
Okay, this sounds absolutely crazy when you consider how much shit I gave Thomas that summer for going off food for forty days, but for the next five days, I'm juicing. No solid food, only the V8 juice for my vitamins, and smoothies and soup. I'll have tea and water to fend off hunger. Like most things, I'm fairly certain that after the third day it will all be cool. Before that, I'm gonna be hungry!
Mental note: In the future prior to any endeavor such as this...do not have the big fat yeast rolls.
But I digress. I need to do something, and while this isn't the answer (you can't apply temporary fixes to an ongoing problem) this is the kickstart to getting my healthy rolling. I've been down this road before: the walking in the morning, the cutting of the carbs, the adding the salads, etc and so on, and I need to get my head turned back to healthy.
I'm feeling some aches and pains I shouldn't feel. At least at my age I think.
Side Note: In the middle of my Sales Law class, a philosophy lesson broke, as we struggled for 15 minutes trying to figure out what was the difference between a fact and an opinion.
I had the Acai Berry this morning, water for a snack (doesn't that sound weird) and the smoothie for lunch. Tonight it's tomato soup. And CranGrape juice for a snack. I may cheat and have some Kool-aid. And this is the plan until Friday. Have I lost my mind? Just so you know, the Acai Berry V8 is not bad.
Looking back, that Steak and Eggs with Schmoopy on Saturday at the Flying Biscuit sure was good. And then I messed around and didn't eat again that day. Okay, I'm still trying to keep the house clean since my mom cleaned up a week ago, so I'm cooking as little as possible. But last night, knowing this was juice coming I baked a potato, broiled a steak and had those damn yeast rolls. One of my running partners invited me to her house for salmon and baked sweet potato, and I damn 'shole should have went over there, but I homework to read so I buckled down and did what I had to do and let the food cook in the background. And the yeast rolls got done first.
I should have put some butter on them.
I need to stop thinking about them! So I stop at Publix on the way home, because thinking of all the walking and stuff made me remember that Publix carries the Arden's Garden juices, which if you've never had are great for health. Pure fruit, not even any water. So I go and grab a few, mixing it up for variety and decide to see, just out of curiosity if they just happen to have them Crunchy Cheez Doodles I love...the week I'm not eating.
Damned if they don't. First time in three months. I'm not eating and they got it. I bought three bags.
They're in the pantry now just waiting on Saturday baby! You ain't know? I almost asked to speak to Publix management to get them cuss out the Wise Potato chip man on my behalf.
But anyway...soup is ready, I got stuff to read for Thursday class. So...Barkeep....a banana mango smoothie and a B12 shot.
You never know what you can do until you try. And then like an idiot, there are things you probably shouldn't be trying. Skydiving comes to mind. The idea of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane just doesn't strike me as too bright. Other bright ideas that would show either I'm a sad old man or have just come to my senses spring to mind, but I won't go there. In any case, I'm giving something new a whirl, and if it don't work...well, at least I tried.
It's a Monday and I'm juice.
Okay, this sounds absolutely crazy when you consider how much shit I gave Thomas that summer for going off food for forty days, but for the next five days, I'm juicing. No solid food, only the V8 juice for my vitamins, and smoothies and soup. I'll have tea and water to fend off hunger. Like most things, I'm fairly certain that after the third day it will all be cool. Before that, I'm gonna be hungry!
Mental note: In the future prior to any endeavor such as this...do not have the big fat yeast rolls.
But I digress. I need to do something, and while this isn't the answer (you can't apply temporary fixes to an ongoing problem) this is the kickstart to getting my healthy rolling. I've been down this road before: the walking in the morning, the cutting of the carbs, the adding the salads, etc and so on, and I need to get my head turned back to healthy.
I'm feeling some aches and pains I shouldn't feel. At least at my age I think.
Side Note: In the middle of my Sales Law class, a philosophy lesson broke, as we struggled for 15 minutes trying to figure out what was the difference between a fact and an opinion.
I had the Acai Berry this morning, water for a snack (doesn't that sound weird) and the smoothie for lunch. Tonight it's tomato soup. And CranGrape juice for a snack. I may cheat and have some Kool-aid. And this is the plan until Friday. Have I lost my mind? Just so you know, the Acai Berry V8 is not bad.
Looking back, that Steak and Eggs with Schmoopy on Saturday at the Flying Biscuit sure was good. And then I messed around and didn't eat again that day. Okay, I'm still trying to keep the house clean since my mom cleaned up a week ago, so I'm cooking as little as possible. But last night, knowing this was juice coming I baked a potato, broiled a steak and had those damn yeast rolls. One of my running partners invited me to her house for salmon and baked sweet potato, and I damn 'shole should have went over there, but I homework to read so I buckled down and did what I had to do and let the food cook in the background. And the yeast rolls got done first.
I should have put some butter on them.
I need to stop thinking about them! So I stop at Publix on the way home, because thinking of all the walking and stuff made me remember that Publix carries the Arden's Garden juices, which if you've never had are great for health. Pure fruit, not even any water. So I go and grab a few, mixing it up for variety and decide to see, just out of curiosity if they just happen to have them Crunchy Cheez Doodles I love...the week I'm not eating.
Damned if they don't. First time in three months. I'm not eating and they got it. I bought three bags.
They're in the pantry now just waiting on Saturday baby! You ain't know? I almost asked to speak to Publix management to get them cuss out the Wise Potato chip man on my behalf.
But anyway...soup is ready, I got stuff to read for Thursday class. So...Barkeep....a banana mango smoothie and a B12 shot.
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