OMG LINKME

Tastes Like Depeche Mode
Philly from the Inside out
Funny: Where It's At
Actually Useful for Something
Philly Blah, Blah and more Blah.

DECEMBER 17, 2004

A Drink
1 ounce peach schnapps
1 ounce gin
2 ounce ginger ale
A handful of frozen berries

This is a GREAT drink. But...next to it, Amaretto Sours gotta be the best thing on earth. Get that hot bartender at that Ethiopian place on Baltimore to serve ya, and the circle's complete. Booze, women, and no self-control. Uh oh.

And then of course, gin and tonics.

DECEMBER 16, 2004

When you say that patriotism has in some way turned into discrimination, backlash and extremely limited freedom of thought and expression, you are very right. Especially in smaller towns, where the generally lower international exposure and education make the population vulnerable to an ignorance of global politics, one must not only be a patriot but a follower in herd politics. The party affiliations in small towns are much stronger - people vote on party lines religiously and the views of on-high are viewed as just that, on-high. Since many in my area are Republican, it is a very dangerous thing to be very visibly pro-Democrat, because there are vicious smear campaigns and social silences toward the "victim". Bush, naturally, is in supreme standing and is not one to be argued with; if he says a war is necessary to keep mom and pops safe with a chicken in every pot and a car in every driveway, then a war must be necessary. There is no room for disagreement for a disagreement means a break with the majority, and why should you know any better than a whole townful of Americans (with emphasis on the "American")? In a place where you must be crazy to act Arab in public (the hicks get all riled up and call you sand niggers and saddam lovers and baby killers) and being French means that all you'll get is a wedgie while everyone forgets who supported them in their own struggle for independence way back when. And why should you question the government, whose every action is to protect our own American citizens? Who hides under the recently passed Official Secrets Act and now locks up presidential records "indefinitely" instead of just for 2 decades, for the purposes of national security? Who interferes in countries where it shouldn't - Latin American overthrows (contras, Sandinistas), African barriers to Communism (Cold War, Afghanistan), Vietnam (as morale boosting easy war) - and then determines that for its own "security", it must continue? Who chooses not to interfere in places where it should on the basis that the people can decide what they want to do with themselves - Rwanda, Liberia (where 2300 Americans wait off the coast watching the Liberians slowly get massacred off)? Who created a very illegal extensive satellite system to spy on all North American communications and then ignore the information it received and allowed 9/11 to happen? Who wasn't afraid of ridiculing its supposed allies and the UN and then suddenly requests the UN's help after shaming it, and blacking out 28 pages of a document to protect all those supposed "allies"? Whose largest ally suspiciously plugged a leak by "finding" the dead body of the chief researcher who signed off on findings of WMD's in Iraq? From history, we learn that this patriotism is a vicious cycle. In times of danger, it is necessary to suppress freedom of thought and expression and promote a patriotism (sometimes morally repugnant) that will keep the country together and support its army to save itself - Germany with National Socialism, Russia in its revolutions, Christian Europe defending and attacking against Muslim Arabia. Seen from a larger picture, it is absolutely necessary from a political standpoint. While that is true, the individual freedoms that are supported in words by the American Constitution would be against that style of political rule; if we were to rebel and ask for our rights during times of crisis - such as during Afghanistan or Gulf War II - I am sure military tribunals, sedition laws and "national security" would be banded around like candy, because in the end, that is politically necessary for national survival as a power in the global checkerboard. So, while frustration is adamant and anger runs rampant, remember that survival is about adaptation, and tricky maneuvers. Global politics and power struggle requires that the nation have certain attitudes, and while we might suffer now, it is necessary in the long run. To fix our situation, though it will be very tricky, all one would have to do is save face and rebuild all by finding a scapegoat, blaming it on the scapegoat and then ridding oneself of the scapegoat. In this case, President Bush would be the scapegoat - but in reality, he is not to blame. It is only our past history, past attitudes and past image of ourselves within the grand scheme of things that forced him to act such and thus reinforce the herd mentality of our fellow Americans. So, accept, adapt and fight for what you believe in - because only then can we change the vicious cycle that is our fate and our history.

DECEMBER 3, 2004

My friend noted that a lot of people seemed unhappy in all of their Xanga posts. Now it would seem to me that this would be kind of obvious. Xanga is an emotional whipping post - online, of course, but a whipping post nonetheless. One would take out aggressions and disappointments more often than if one were happy. Why? Because if you were happy, you'd more likely tell a friend, or failing that, anybody. If you were unhappy, you'd tell a close friend or - if you were embarrassed or no one was listening - type it up and post it on your blog. That way you can bitch and whine and still have a possible audience to hear you. I do that.

Let me tell you. The world is messed up, and that's from personal experience. This week, I've pulled three all-nighters and slept most of the day on 3 of the days. I've done everything I had to, including the papers I've had to write, and hours at work, and writing articles for the DP - but mainly, I've been on sleep deprivation mode. I have 10 pages left to write for next Friday. But really, that's all I can complain about. Evidently, things are not as bad as they seem. This weekend, I have nothing to do but party and go to shows. I could look for other job options, sure, and plan my life for the next year. I could also call friends I haven't talked to for a while. I had a long chat with Brenna last week; I called Gracie last night and had fun catching up with her; I hung out with Andrew tonight; my roommate at odd times; Molly online; Players people before break; Swingers people last night; kids from back home; with Caroline, just chillin; Katrina from downstairs; Mike and company last week; and all those people whom I thought were mad or pissed at me but weren't actually and so become old friends again. I met this awesome person during Thanksgiving break, and I think she'll do just fine. I finished writing a wonderful song that will be performed pretty soon. I've been working more on my lengthy novel, which will take me years and years to complete, but oh well. I've been taking in more sights and sounds, and eating more good food, making more money, practicing more piano, working on the look. So really, I can't complain.

I'll miss senior year, I really will.

NOVEMBER 10, 2004

I don't feel guilty, like I did last year. I would turn up the bass on my stereo and through the wall, Lindsay would hear it and seconds later... boom boom boom on the door. Could you turn it down? My roommate, in some time retaliation, would bang on the wall in return. He would snicker and act as if she wouldn't know who it was, but I was like, there's no way she doesn't know it's either you or me. Of course, he doesn't care all too much about being obvious, as his idea of a prank encompasses breaking windows and falling two floors. Not that he's actually pulled that one off, but it was a legitimate idea. He spent two days trying to persuade me to do that, and I told him that I wasn't mad enough about not being able to blast my music that I would actually do shit that people would have to pay for. I wasn't hanging outside the building to do the deed either. Well, that was last year. A lot of things were a little off last year. The dinner party where I burned some shit and then got really high. Andy screaming down the hallway, his voice immediately obvious. Calling Whitney and being like, come to this party... which got shut down right before she got there. Nice going, Byron. Nice going. Bye Bye Birdie taking over my life. Staying up until 3 AM watching Family Guy episodes. Hanging out with Tracy. This year, I haven't hit up the stash just yet. I haven't burned anything, I haven't heard Andy for a while, I haven't struck out (home runs tho ), I have time to chill, I stay up until 5 AM (!!), I don't chill with some people any more (in fact, I was called Simon once... that wasn't cool... and I haven't seen some people since the summertime), and... I can blast my music now in my room. No one can hear it, especially because Sourabh is usually out in his study groups where they don't really study but go to bubble tea and chill. That means there are at least two walls and 3 meters of air between my stereo and the next room. I live beside Jame and two freshmen, whom I don't think give a damn anyway. Now I can listen to Classic & 86 while I look out my window and imagine I had a better view. I miss the Stouffer view, and I miss freshman year living there. Yeah, I got trashed way more often and was way less chill when it came to working, but there were a lot of cool beginnings then. It's kind of coming to a sad end this year. I'll be a dinosaur this time next year, kind of an outsider though I will be as old as next year's senior class. Maybe even junior class. And my tastes have changed too, maybe because I'm getting a little smoother as time goes on. I used to be with all these girls that were older than me but now I'm getting back to being with my own age. Which just happen to be freshmen and sophomores. It's pretty cool. Penn Dance doesn't seem as weird as they used to. Maybe that's because Shannon gives it dignity, Alison gives it technique and grace, and Mel gives it some cuteness. And their music choice is so much better this year! I just regret I couldn't play that piano piece instead of them using the recording. Maybe it's for the better, because the piano kind of sucks. I'm really excited about doing Annie Get Your Gun next week. Last weekend, I went up to NY with all those guys. I went up in Mike's car, along with Jase Sayanlar, some freshmen dude that also plays piano and Liz who also lives downstairs. Mayer pride . We played the movie game and finally I lost out to Mike after everyone else got eliminated. Keynote of the game was Liz saying Pirates of the Caribbean twice on a pick-anything round. Almost knocked herself out of the game on a free roll. Molly will be able to play on the pit band (I don't know why she told me she wasn't even on the list, because she was/is) and Dora is gonna play an awesome Annie. Mike will be playing Frank, and in the words of our esteemed director, they needed someone who was "supremely arrogant." It's funny. You're supposed to laugh. My outro is to Basement Jaxx. Flipped keys, thrown into pockets. Wallet, cell, check. Music, check. Swig of iced tea and raspberry aperitif. Holla to the spritzers and whipcurl in the mirror. Shorties breathe and stop (it's Caroline from down the hall), and then Becs gets in the elevator, and it's um, um, um. Katrina (the ick story) downstairs, Evelyn "do your homework" "Shut up!" Andy, check it. I'll be back later - Austin. Where you at??, Alex. Neha, let's (cough, cough) smoke. And all those broken hearts. Last word: come to the show this weekend.

OCTOBER 19, 2004

The Case Against War

http://www.thenation.com/doc.mhtml?i=20020930&s=zunes

This is an old document, but it's been proven correct on many points. It is still true that we have not found any links between Saddam and al-Qaeda (bin Laden, according to Humes, offered to raise a mujahedeen army to liberate Kuwait from Iraq). Containment has failed, no matter how much we try to make it appear so. Yes, Saddam is captured and everywhere broken, but how are American soldiers still getting attacked by bombs and missiles at every point, and the Green Zone isn't as safe as it's reputed to be? No WMD's. No real need for inspectors now. But we have earned the distrust of the Arab world, and ever-increasing virulence in their messages of hate. I must include this next cited paragraph, as it is important. "If the United States can unilaterally claim the right to invade Iraq because of that country's violation of Security Council resolutions, other Council members could logically also claim the right to invade states that are similarly in violation; for example, Russia could claim the right to invade Israel, France could claim the right to invade Turkey and Britain could claim the right to invade Morocco. The US insistence on the right to attack unilaterally could seriously undermine the principle of collective security and the authority of the UN and, in doing so, would open the door to international anarchy. International law is quite clear about when military force is allowed. In addition to the aforementioned case of UN Security Council authorization, the only other time that a member state is allowed to use armed force is described in Article 51, which states that it is permissible for "individual or collective self-defense" against "armed attack...until the Security Council has taken measures necessary to maintain international peace and security." If Iraq's neighbors were attacked, any of these countries could call on the United States to help, pending a Security Council decision authorizing the use of force. Based on evidence that the Bush Administration has made public, there doesn't appear to be anything close to sufficient legal grounds for the United States to convince the Security Council to approve the use of military force against Iraq in US self-defense."

OCTOBER 16, 2004

Documentaries

In the long documentary battle, the Right is being left far behind. All the recent documentaries are somewhat left-leaning. The Fog of War has Robert McNamara explaining the policies that led to the firebombing deaths of hundreds of thousands in Tokyo and in Dresden, and why his actions in war were (what he thought was) right. He seems like a nice man, but the implication is that he isn't. Fahrenheit 9/11, naturally, is anti-Bush, anti-Republican, and a breadwinner for Michael Moore. The Hunting of the President depicts the Right's attempts to stymy Clinton during his tenure; it's supposed to be chilling in the way it depicts a giant collaboration to slow all political activity in Wahington (all Dem activity of course)... but then again, the Democrats tried to do that to Bush too, with less success, due to inefficient attacks or not rising totally to the bait. And now, the penultimate "documentary" for the left campaign is Going Upriver: the Long War of John Kerry. There will be an October 1 theatrical release, with plenty of time left over for this to sway minds for the November elections. Any tricks and advantages the Bush campaign thinks it has right now, or that it can pull in October - you better make sure this movie gets canned. Points in its favor (or against it, depending on which way you lean) include the movie's director: George Butler, a long time friend of Kerry. Mmhmmm. Documentary.

OCTOBER 10, 2004

I guess first impressions really do matter. It got me my first random frosh moment of the month

Went to the orchestra last night. But not really - we got there, and the student tickets were sold out. Instead, we went out to eat. Waited an hour to be served, made awkward conversation, but got into the swing of things later. Brandon seemed a little stilted at first, as did Peter. But I find it's just me being used to laid-back American as opposed to laid-back European (two entirely different things). Caroline organized the trip and brought Martin along. Now something happened last night. I still am not sure what it meant as a whole, and I somehow don't want to ask. But... if it's what I think it is, then it's REALLY good for me. Meaning, I will have been 2 for 0 this weekend. And when homecoming comes around, I'll be 3 for 0. Allll riiiiiiight! Giggity giggity.... ah, I'll give it a rest.

Watched the second debates. Happy to see that both Bush and Kerry are more comfortable in their roles. Kerry seemed much more passionate than usual, more like the average man,. Bush seemed more focused, and less stupid-sounding. I like the town hall format, because it gives a sense of informality to the proceedings that make it a little easier to see inside each candidate. Unlike the first debate, I didn't grimace every five minutes and look at my watch wondering when it would be over. That, and I finished off some more of that stupid bottle of SoCo that always seems to have a little more, a little more. Damn!

Somebody slap me in the face, I really got to stop crushing. Like now. It's so distracting.

Oh, I got so hustled last night too. So hustled.

OCTOBER 3, 2004

Palladio98: i dont have time to save the world, i want to save what i want to save on my own terms
Palladio98: fucking socialists
Palladio98: sorry, its my inner republican screaming to get out

OCTOBER 1, 2004

Like thousands of others across this nation, I sit here tonight to deliver a ceremonial rant on the state of the nation on the eve of the first great battle between the two contenders for the title of President of the United States. Without paying attention to the substance of their meaning, Kerry comes across as more well-spoken and forceful, while the incoherent mumblings and repeated enunciations of buzzwords from President Bush evoked a sense of confusion in the Republican camp. As a Kerry supporter, I do admit I have a definite bias in preference. I prefer Kerry's message. I prefer to commit to bilateral talks with North Korea to limit their nuclear proliferation, and not with Bush's multi-nation effort. I agree with the need for new blood to replenish our foreign ties, and not with Bush's "usage" of diplomacy. I agree that entering the war in Iraq under the outlined pretenses was wrong, but now that we are there, that we should continue to support the soldiers who were there - if for nothing else, but to leave the country a little better than it was. However, the Republicans did score points somewhat passively in the debate by letting Kerry trip himself up. To the average viewer, Kerry's pronouncements on Iraq during the debate are confusing and seem to echo Bush's constant cries of "changing position." But it is indelibly printed on all viewers that only one of the candidates emerged with his dignity more or less intact. I leave the rest to our future history.

I guess some updates are in order. I am taking a class with Kathleen Hall Jamieson now, on an introduction to Political Communication. By studying political ads, media biases and persuasion techniques and analysis during an election year, I hope to make myself a more knowledgeable, articulate and aware viewer. Perhpas the goal of Communications is to make the individual more aware of how there are constant attempts to manipulate him (or her). Like most people, I am content to be manipulated - but it is sure nice to know exactly how I am.

I don't need to buy the books; Caroline has graciously provided me with all of them, and refused offers of investing ("think of it as both our books," she says), and I feel incredibly guilty. Hopefully she reads this and becomes AWARE of this. Megumi, her roommate, is a Japanese exchange student who I've found to be a little clueless but ultimately really nice. Austin is a good guy - his dad or uncle or some relative was ambassador to Singapore and he apparently saw us when we performed at the Esplanades. His roommate (I forget his name) makes a ridiculous effort to be friendly, even to the point of re-introducing himself several times. Felicity is a great RA - really a Faculty Fellow who has a hilarious dog and has hilarious parties with her crepe-maker and cameo on the Michael Moore show and British oddities. Val, the VPUL, lives on our floor and is so generous with her laughter and her promises of secret hall hush money. I really felt like introducing some of these people. Seventh floor is actually pretty hot stuff.

I met a Bulgarian yesterday, by the name of Valentina. Apparently, she's this crazy music lover that loves to listen to the piano and can sing pretty well. So instead of heading to coffee - I end up getting sidetracked and spending two hours playing ditties and trying to remember the second halves of all these random songs that we both knew only like two lines of lyrics for. It was great. There was also this other freshman - Carol - that works at Pod already. She gave me some chicken from Pod. I seemed to think it was all Japanese, but apparently it's a little more pan-Asian than I thought. Oops.

I'm taking History 001 with Safley. He's a funny guy, soaring into class with his ponytail and Oakleys and giving a tightly focused lecture on the Oikos, Roman slaves, Germanic invaders, the feodum relationship, during the two one-hour lectures we have every week. There's this girl in the class that I facebooked her a while back thinking she was this other girl with the same last name. They looked a little similar, but not really. I messaged her later, apologizing for the mistake though God knows I should have kept my mouth shut, and there she is in class. No problem.

I'm jealous. Brenna's heading on a trip to Ireland in November - and I really, really want to go. I had a little issue with her going alone and driving around County Cork with her past history. Thank goodness it'll be too expensive as she's still under 25, and it's a pain in the ass to rent a car out before that age. So instead, she'll do a lot of biking in the prisinte, rainy wilderness of Ireland. A little better, but I'm still worried. There, I said it.

Ooh, and we're going on retreat this weekend. All the Old Men and the New Men get to powwow in the woods while it rains and we can do Never Have I Ever and sing crazy songs to the whirling wind out there in the boonies. We're not eating at the Cock and Bull - which happens to be a block from where one of my friends live (yeah, Julie). Bastards are booked up and so we're going somewhere else. And prices got raised to $75. Ugh. Neha's going, which will be cool, and I get to chill with some of the other guys there. And if I'm correct, that certain somebody is NOT going. Yes! Too bad Assad ain't around, it would have been a good time. Now there's no one to double team with to ridicule Steve for his extreme age.

Restaurant Week has been so amazing. Last week I went to AOI and got so stuffed I could barely walk home. It was the all-you-can-eat and I had at least 50 points, though I think I ate much too quick. I should have done the frat-boy thing and ride it out slowly, trying to get past that golden apex of 70 points. I probably would have been carted home in a wheelbarrow. But that was only the appetizer to Restaurant Week. Entree came with dinner at Angelina's on that freaking Tuesday when it rained so hard that everything drowned (almost) and my umbrella got broke and the wind then fixed it back. The place was decorated real nice - with red patterning all over the walls, Mona Lisa on the lamps, great big Renaissance painting hanging the wall, a good glass of wine and chicken and tiramisu that almost killed me, they were so good. And for $30, on the prix fixe menu. The tiramisu.... oh god. We were the last people (Sourabh, Julie, Paul, Jame and I) there at 11:30 and the rain was still pouring and we still got back in time for brownie bar at Becky's place. Becky is this funny vegan who likes her tea and is not so good at baking. But I admire her efforts. She is good at making people interested in weird art, country music and getting their hair dyed. Dessert was early dinner at Patou tonight. This is a French place that looks small from the front, but the inside is really wonderfully decorated. Cafe style in the front with cushions and low tables, and in the back, more romantic table settings in an airy room with ceiling extremely high, and cloth set like sails around the walls. Almost like we were by the sea. I ordered the mussels with tomato and some sort of white wine (it was a good wine too, I could taste it); a lamb shank that fell off the bone, it was so tender; and a wonderful custard to finish it off. A good bottle of wine, while I listened to Melody discoursing on food and Steve shouting about politics and walking back to campus in the mid-dark and looking at old houses on Spruce St. and passing by the Kramer apartments and St. James Place, that little alley with beautiful houses in the English style that neither of them had seen before.

I like to think that what I write makes a difference... and I think it has. My stories are distributed across U-Wire, education networks, link sites (like Fark), technology websites, mentioned in a few blogs, criticized and complimented by students and praised by Penn administration. I don't like writing a completely event-based story - I like filling in the big picture for everyone. That's how a tip on electronic voting machines turns into an analysis of election reform across the country, a nanotech grant becomes an exposure on all of Penn nanotech, online auctions become national trend descriptors, a Cereal restaurant becomes a novel business plan to be studied, a quiet technology development becomes the university's most important contribution, a Google IPO becomes a critique of the institution (subtly). Well-researched, that's me. Hopefully well-written. Look for it at www.dailypennsylvanian.com, and let me know how it goes.

SEPTEMBER 17, 2004

I asked Melody to see a free sneak preview with me on Wednesday. What could go wrong? a) It was National Lampoon (remember Animal House?) and b) it had Nikki Ziering, Playboy Playmate in 1997. So we get there and there's 12 people in the audience. 12. Ridiculous. This is at Ritz East, which was probably paid oodles of money to show a movie it would usually never condescend to show on its screens otherwise. By the way, the movie was "Golddiggers", changed from "Lady Killers" which I guess had to be changed not to confuse it with the Tom Hanks' vehicle "The Ladykillers". And who could have guessed? Put a Playmate, the older bro from Boy Meets World, Fran Drescher's momma from the Nanny and the Sherminator in one room and good things should happen, right?

So the movie starts. And we find that things are not as they seemed. (Play Jaws music.) The movie is so bad, and that's why it's funny. Not because any of the jokes are actually funny - but because the premise of the movie involves two dumb criminals trying to make a quick buck by marrying and killing off two crones, who are conspiring to do the same to the boys. They think each other has loads of money. Playmate shows up for maybe 5 minutes in juicy bikini, but it's a dream sequence. Damn dream sequences! Well, we didn't win the 3 prize drawings in a room of 12, some lady kept snoring and shouting, alternately, and the buffoons next to us were shouting in vain for the idiotic mental patient to shut up. After not being able to stand two ugly old crones for the entire movie, it ended. Finally. Some seated guy, on the way out, asked us if we would go back to watch it again. "Yeah, sure," I mumbled. Over my dead body.

It must be the only movie to get a 0% on rottentomatoes.com. For real, it did. Shame on National Lampoon. Shame. In other news, Cellular wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It was stupid ridiculous for the first half and pretty good for the second. And any time I get to watch Jessica Biel do anything, is a good time. Hero is a GOOD movie, I skipped the Cookout, Anacondas was a bad movie... um, I think that's it. Oh wait, no it's not. Vanity Fair was thoroughly enjoyable, though a bit long (and Romola Garai is so cute); and Bright Young Things was awesome. Just awesome. Emily Mortimer is so amusing, for some weird weird reason.

SEPTEMBER 7, 2004

I'm depressed about the news business. I don't think I'm going to watch cable news any more, because they're all so biased. All the news shows - especially Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity - are so virulent; news shows should not be so virulent. Whatever they are saying, the very fact of their virulency and propagation of only one opinion is bad. I just watched Outfoxed. That movie is a little virulent itself, but it points out several things that are very visible to me. After September11, there was very little proper coverage of the major social and economic issues. Last year, I watched cable news and didn't read stuff online, and ended up knowing next to nothing about the economy, Medicare and Social Security - yet i knew every movement in Iraq and all the Bush and terrorism bullshit that they kept on parroting. Well, yes, they covered gay marriage and abortion stuff, but mainly because the outraged Christian conservatives were bringing it up. Apparently, those guys must be a big customer bloc (or voting bloc, if the networks are really political mouthpieces, as this documentary shouts at me) because the anti-Christian thing is somehow more important to us than AIDS (which is decreasing in the United States but increasing worldwide). It is also astonishing that our knowledge of foreign policy based on cable news is terrible, in that national survey done last year. Though NPR is a little more liberal than it should be, it covers a lot of material that have yet to be aired on any of the major channels, even with a right-wing view. What's with that? How can viewers of news be more dumbed-down and more uninformed than when they started? The newspaper business seems to be a little better, as words are more vulnerable to charges of misrepresentation. I'm sure some sort of bias also occurs in the papers too, since Murdoch owns some of those. Oh, and another question here: why are Republicans so angry about Soros funding the Democrats with billions when they got Murdoch helping out with money AND with air time? People can get their Bush propaganda without even realizing they've been conned! And for the record, Bill O'Reilly is an asshole who knows jackshit and has no business being on a news channel. I don't watch news channels because I want to hear a smug bastard parrot his opinion. I want to hear his guest's opinions and NOT his. Anchors and hosts have no business inserting their opinion on the show. Any one in favor of Sean Hannity, please put your hard-on away. Thank you. That is all.

SEPTEMBER 5, 2004

Let me just be the one to say this: Eva Green is beautiful. There's this game that they play, and the loser experiences the maximum of shame. That's one part. Then, the heady goodness of 1960s liberalism, the film intelligentsia, eroticism extraordinaire. Bernard Bertolucci found a winner in Gilbert Adair's the Holy Innocents - it's strange that it's out of print and it would be horrendously expensive to ship a copy from some stranger in the UK that happens to have a copy of the book. Oh, the movie was the Dreamers, and the UK version of the poster is much nicer than the stupid US cover. I have yet to experience John Hurt and Jason Priestley's film version of Love and Death on Long Island, or the Adair book it was based on; this was found during a search of novels based in or centered on New York boroughs or suburbs. Coney Island and Brooklyn have lots of area-specific novels - there seems to be a spirit lurking in the ancient alleyways that don't exist in Harlem or Queens, which are invaribaly the setting for homicides and drug deals which could happen just as easily in Chicago's East Side, South Philadelphia or Hong Kong in the 1950s.

Terrorism is growing, and there is no doubt about that. This is what scares me most: that the war on terrorism has actually increased the passion of enemies, and incited passions in others where none had existed before. We can look at a similar war of futility, that would similarly escalate tensions where none had existed before; take World War I. The petty differences of the monarchs of old Europe - all related, naturally - were played out on a giant chessboard called Europe, each pawn representing millions of men and ending in a stalemate rather than a checkmate. The winner bails out the loser, and the loser is not neutralized. Rather, his people's national passions are further inflamed, and the feeling that they have been treated wrongly and scorned by the rest of the world led to their easy manipulation by a dimunitive Austrian. World War II. It would be arguable (of course, highly speculative) that World War II would never have happened if bruised egos had not clashed and if a mass collectivization of the idea of nationality had not occurred during the 19th century. Pride before the fall. The assassination of Franz Ferdinand and the prior rise of nationalism compares to growing Muslim alienation and 9/11. OK, I could word it better, but I'm tired. In any case, when we had identifiable cause - the damage Hitler did to Europe before the war was a good reason, but competitions of national pride were not - it would be a good idea, and we would have grounds for a defense maneuver and be less vulnerable to charges of creating large-scale distractions. For example, Iraq as a target was never sufficiently explained or proved to the public. Even if it was a significant threat, the evidence shown us and the arguments presented turned out to be very much less than adequate. North Korea, as a comparison, happens to be much more of a threat and would be realistically a better target for defense measures. For pride reasons, we needed to find a scapegoat for 9/11, and Iraq was it. It became not a war on terrorism but a war on a country with little contact with the terrorists (Iran is a much better place to run operations out of, anyway) and scant evidence of nuclear weapons that never materialized.

But wait! Perhaps Iraq was actually a threat and we have not been given all the information for security reasons - in that case, we still have failed our primary objectives. To decrease terrorism. The plan to return Iraq to the people has been misguided at some point and seems more a campaign of oppression upon an unwilling nation, where American soldiers die (the death toll is over the Gulf War's by now) to save children that spit on them, mothers that throw stones and fathers who set bombs in front of their headquarters. The exit plan has not been implemented as an exit, and this has served to be the final straw for Muslim leaders, who can declare an unwarranted oppression of Muslim peoples (and not unreasonably either!) given the information thus far presented by the media. I fear we have awakened a sleeping dragon.

SEPTEMBER 1, 2004

It’s an election year. From the bowels of the earth, the roaring media machine known as the political campaign traverses the width and breadth of the country, pampering the populace and lambasting the enemy – be it bleeding-heart liberals, war-hawk Republicans or those fringe candidates with wild-eyed notions of “free health-care”, or “immediate peace in Iraq.” One is supposed to take a side, because, inevitably, there will be one of these moments: someone brings up a potent political argument – whether it be economic policy, health-care reform, even the war in Iraq – and there you are, with nothing to say. It isn’t enough to have a mild inclination, or some sort of moral inner compass that steers one toward one side of an argument without a firm basis, or even any basis at all. Especially in an election year, when each person will be responsible for elevating another mere human being to the presidency, a position that holds the ability to affect the future of the entire country. In these times – four months until November by my count – it is almost dangerous to merely follow your inclinations.

Follow your heart. It’s a common enough message, portrayed in enough movies and novels that it’s almost a given in today’s world. The underdog, trapped by an unforgiving society, chooses happiness over safety – these choices are allowed us by our freedoms and democracy, no matter the risk or price. But who are we to say that one’s heart is able to choose blindly, and make the right decision? In reality, no one does. You would want to make sure your dream guy or girl doesn’t rate violence and alcoholism high on their list of priorities; similarly, you wouldn’t want to marry someone who would not care a whit about the future – ostensibly, this would adversely affect you and your potential family, psychologically and financially. You would, in other words, educate yourself on all aspects of the person and not just on how they look.

So why shouldn’t this be so with your political choice? Unfortunately, most people have taken it on themselves to be a media-educated population. Television, radio and print news keep us up-to-date without effort, and though we complain of the bias of the liberal media, there is not much drive to find things out for ourselves – what else would we be paying reporters and journalists for? So, we listen to what the media has to offer, and for better or worse, we let that rule the way we feel.

Advertising executives are well aware that the average consumer thinks with his heart and not with his head. In an April NPR round-table discussion on presidential campaign ads, Linda Kaplan of The Kaplan Thaler Group remarked that “the problem is that [candidates] think it is about what they think, when it’s really all about who they are.”

That’s probably why radical propaganda is so effective – right-wing Limbaugh paints Democrats as impractical and unpatriotic and still has the highest-rated talk radio show; ultra-liberal Michael Moore preaches the corruption and incompetence of the reigning Republicans and still came up with the highest-grossing documentary on its first week of release; and cult Democrat Lyndon LaRouche can weave Republican conspiracy theories and still come up on primary ballots for an eighth presidential campaign. Though it’s arguable that their message only further persuades the converted, they rely mostly on well-developed and consistent character smears that actually does answer the all-important question: who are these people?

On the same token, it also explains why political television ads are so ineffective in comparison to consumer ads and propaganda. While ad makers understand the consumer logic that underlies any media posturing, political media campaigns are stifled by the very nature of politics. Caution is key, as is appeasing the greatest number of voters. To do so, they utilize polls. In an article by Joshua Green in the July 2004 Atlantic Monthly, Republican media consultant John Brabender notes that in most political ads, “every candidate is basically saying the same four poll-tested things.” As polls also reveal weak issues for each candidate, many campaigns misunderstand the medium, and “try to cram as many issues into an ad as they can,” according to Brabender.

This ends up confusing the voter and obscuring the issues, which should really count for more than any character flaw the candidate might have. To make up for these lapses (which I believe raises voter apathy), candidates usually end up using personal attacks, particularly in the few weeks just prior to the election. During the campaigns of 1988 and 1992, George Bush Sr. raised the bar on negative campaigning toward both Dukakis and Clinton. Clinton himself endured two campaigns worth of allegations of sexual misconduct and later, perjury. Most memorably, the 2000 campaign had stark representations of a dumb Bush Jr. and a lying Gore.

As for this campaign? It seems as if those old negative ads – here we draw a line between comparative discourse and attack rhetoric – are back again, in full force. It’s probably the most expensive campaign in American history. In an advertising frenzy during one month, the Bush campaign paid out $85 million to broadcasters nationwide. Kerry and related Democratic groups trailed behind with only $65 million. Funny enough, the states which aired the most virulent Bush ads saw drops in positive ratings for Bush, though there wasn’t always an equal rise in Kerry’s stats. The furious attacks are probably counterweight to the “free” advertising put out from the Democratic side, especially with the films “Unconstitutional”, “Fahrenheit 9/11”, “Outfoxed”, and the other documentaries captured from all over the world to display what the world sees as the international face of stubbornness. Just as Bush did with the Swift Boat Veterans, Kerry did not deny the “truths” espoused by these extra-political sources. By not saying anything, there was a tacit acceptance of sometimes outrageous methods and conclusions. In several cases, both campaigns utilized images of Hitler to emphasize the righteousness of their campaigns (and the wrongness of the other side).

As they design the various ads that will persuade us to vote for their candidate, campaign managers seem to take it for granted that we are a nation of media addicts. We are addicts, of course; common knowledge imparts to us the fact that our children watch the most television in the world. After all, we didn’t believe the Vietnam War was over until Walter Cronkite told us so. We didn’t quite believe in Monica Lewinsky’s innocent-girl act until Barbara Walters told us so. We didn’t quite believe that Gore was president until Brokaw told us so – but of course, he was wrong. And advertising? There’s a reason why it earns the majority of the profits for broadcasting companies.

But it is important to note the context of the political campaign assumption: that they feel they can educate us enough to make the right choice – their choice – by their use of media. In their case, “media” largely refers to 30 to 60 second television ads that attempt to broadcast an entire position in the blink of an eye.

Here we pass on the argument from campaign media to news media. The public understands the bias present in advertising, whereas they are suspicious of bias in news media: a 1996 poll revealed 77% of Americans mistrust the accuracy of journalism. This is probably related to the media propensity for flashy sensationalistic stories; according to Jack Fuller in his book News Values, “the thought that news reports should be true dawned on journalists only recently.” In the not-too-distant past, journalism was almost totally propagandized. But unlike the flashy sensationalism inherent in advertising, American viewers actually prefer their news to be unlike it, even if it’s not quite as interesting.

In the end, the public is still made more educated by news than by advertising. Take television news. It is presumed to contain political posturing (the “liberal media”) and its viewer-ship runs in the millions, even making the Nielsen Top 20 during certain weeks. Though we complain about the bias, we seem to be educated and made up-to-date by merely paying a short bit of attention. We don’t have to exert much effort: what else would we be paying reporters and journalists for, if not to do the drudge work for us? So why then are we so suspicious of news sources? Maybe for good reason. It is remarkably similar to advertising in other respect; it aims to educate, it is biased (albeit to a less debatable degree), has millions of viewers, and earns millions of dollars for their media sponsors. However, nobody

But even as I wax negative on the intellectual laziness of the populace and the effects of the media, it would seem that we aren’t entirely image-driven and careless – because, in some fashion, we do worry about the issues which shape our lives in this country. According to a study in Communication Quarterly by Benoit and Lee, South Korean presidential election winners have tended to emphasize character over policy, reflecting the attitude of the voting population. The United States, on the other hand, show the reverse.

Policy over character, policy over character. Sounds good. But we still want our candidates to be like us, a profoundly “heart” attitude to take. After all, the old myth that opposites attract was finally proven untrue by Cornell researchers early last year. So what do we have now? You’re innately biased. The media’s biased. So go out there. Do some reading. Think about it. And probably the best advice you can take with you this election year (or any other time for that matter): don’t believe everything we tell you.

AUGUST 28, 2004

Someone once told me that it was possible to be in love with an idea. A tableau, set on a stage of memory’s devising, with the boundaries ever-breakable, ever-limitless. There are lots of hidden edges, and what we don’t imagine now, gets added, slowly, to that miasma during our dreams. Coney Island – stretching down to Brighton Beach and beyond – I believed to be mysterious, trapped with ghosts of the past century, of the dark undercurrents of immigration clashing with the bright possibilities of a metropolitan city. A beach with ocean views extending to infinity. I imagine that some look out their windows in the morning and pretend there’s nothing between their personal slum (the crowded apartment buildings dotting the Brooklyn skyline) and the rising sun, that the dirty panoramas they call paradise can be scrubbed clean and made exciting again. That riding the Wheel and the old wooden rollercoaster, and playing Shoot the Freak, and hot dog eating contests and Fried Chicken! Hamburgers! Seafood! on the boardwalk, and go-karting and mini-golf – that all these aren’t just attempts to reclaim a lost history that possibly never existed. I’m there at 7 am on a Sunday morning, and it’s just me and the sky. Everybody else – with no exception – is an elderly Russian, out for a run or walk, usually barefoot. They clump together in pairs and trios and quartets, and presumably talk of how good the morning air is, and how the children are, and how they’re getting in better shape since they started the diet. Coming here on the D train, I notice the prevalence of Russian signs on the banners and posters. Even Western Union advertises in Russian. I think I also saw Polish, but I could be mistaken. I don’t even really know how Polish goes. I’m guessing the majority of Russian immigrants took this area as home back when they first arrived here. At Abingdon Square on Saturday, I bought a copy of Shteyngart’s The Russian Debutante’s Handbook. The Emma Lazarus Immigration Absorption Society that settles newfound immigrants, and where the main character works, soothes the fears and redirects nervous Eastern European immigrants – who live in Brighton Beach. Since the author is a Russian immigrant living in New York City, I assume his descriptions, save for obviously creative statements, are correct. There is a light drizzle, but my face doesn’t get wet, as I brought along the beret. It hides the long hair that desperately needs a haircut, and serves as a good waterproof head covering. Perfect to shade the eyelids when I prefer not to show my face. Still, I look too well dressed – I was decked out in gear that would have done as well going to bars the previous night. Which was the case. I just never changed.

There are a few sleeping bums under the pavilions, trying to sleep where they can; I understand the hardships they go through. After all, I spent Saturday night living the life of a bum. I was nursing a forty, I hadn’t taken a shower in two days, and I did my sleeping in the subway station at Grand Central and within the terminal itself, before getting kicked out by policemen at 5:30 am. I went to a couple bars earlier on Saturday evening, after seeing a couple different things in Chelsea and the Meatpacking District. Friday night, I had stayed with Anthony and went with him for dinner at the corner restaurant. We later went to Times Square. Just a relief to see life again. The huge toiling mass, pushing in and out, and life goes on. Pit stops at Virgin Records, where I buy the Jamie Cullum cd. He’s the Norah Jones equivalent in the UK, and I like his stuff. He has a very clever rendition of Frontin’ (yeah, the Pharrell piece). Fakes of Mean Girls and Harold and Kumar, but unfortunately, the sound was terrible on Harold and Kumar. Bars with friends of Anthony’s. If we hadn’t been there for only a short time, I would have tried talking to the waitress a little. Yeah, she was a little cute, but it was something to do – I felt out of place because they all were definitely gay, and I was clearly odd man out. Chelsea at night is much different from it in the day time. After helping Anthony move out (watched White Chicks before going to bed, Olympics in the morning), I went off to get down to Abingdon Square. Turns out I didn’t make it there in time, mainly because I walked a gazillion blocks “in search of…” Lunch at Boston Market, browsing here and there, people watching. I was intending on seeing a production put on by one of Grace’s friends, but that fell through for me. By the time I found my way past the pretty little Abindon Square park and the awesome bookstore (with the Shteyngart, I also bought the Seville Communion by Arturo Perez-Reverte – he’s an awesome artistic/historical/literary thriller writer, as shown by the huge difference in that book and the Queen of the South, both extremely enjoyable. The latter is about modern-day Latin America and the presence of drugs in the life of several people, including the Queen of the South herself; his other books are more historically based and are who and why-dunnit rather than a more picaresque thing.) I ended up reading in the park for a little while, before heading back to Times Square. I went to see Garden State again, because I dearly love the movie; it was even better the second time around. I also took a second look at Virgin Records, and ended up buying two more cds: Snow Patrol and Rachael Yamagata. The latter is a mixed-blood whose songs are incredible, especially Be Be Your Love and Letter Read (the song titles are not all that wrong-sounding). She has a typical guitar, drums and piano/keyboard set with her singing vocals. Snow Patrol is definitely more mainstream, and has several catchy songs. For kicks this afternoon, I put together a mix CD that was supposed to be my soundtrack for this imaginary movie. The music evokes a lot of pictures, which was why I was excited to insert my new purchases onto the thing.

In any case, I ended up walking back to 8th Ave on 42nd and catching the E train downtown to get back to Chelsea, where Anthony’s apartment was. No idea why I really wanted to go, but I found the diner across the street from the one I went to with Anthony on Friday night… Moonstruck. I found the food to be third-rate, the cheddar in the cheese omelette not as good as the cruddier-looking place across the street, and the minestrone soup to be more a potato stew. OK, but not very good. It was raining, but I ended up making my way back to Times Square station and into Grand Central for my amazing night. Being restless, I couldn’t sleep very well, and finally said, “to hell with it” and made my way to Starbucks (where I loitered for 30 minutes before it opened) to get a grande mocha frappuccino. I don’t know if this is policy, but the last three I got don’t have the choc/fudge sauce any more, which I loved to eat with the cream (cream costs an extra dollar when getting Starbucks in Asia). Then, Coney Island. The D went straight there, though it took a long time. On the way back, I fell asleep and got all the way to the last stop in Queens… I was a little disoriented, but went for a walk around Queens anyway. I’m aware this wasn’t the safest trip I’ve ever made, having brought around some valuable stuff and going into dark alleys at random times in the night and away from contact with most people. After Queens, I stopped off in Harlem, and then decided I needed a shower real bad – thus, I made my way back to the Chinatown bus stop. Getting to and from the Chinatown bus place, I always get lost. I find my way back, but only after I find subway stations with their convenient maps. And sigh, I came home, showered, and am tired. Sleep.

AUGUST 27, 2004

One more week - that's all the barrier I have between the easy carelessness of today and the frantic pace of the school year. I am frightened: moments like now are hard to recapture. I stepped on an ant yesterday, slowly watching it die. It was hard to watch, just like all those scenes I wince at in movies where we watch people die. But they always have some cool exit lines, or else, they're just cannon fodder and we aren't really supposed to care about them. But what if you don't get an exit line? I'm not necessarily talking about death as permanent institution; I'm just referring to the passing of the moment. Of vibrancy, whatever. You're free, and then suddenly you're tied to the ground, your spirit trapped in a small wooden box in the ground. Or in another round of classes. Ugh.

I'm going to Williamsburg this weekend. I hope it's fun. In other news, I felt truly awkward at this gathering of 28 year olds, the talk of tomatoes and herbs and different weeds and how to properly stake such and such, and how much time to spend in the spring, summer, winter, fall and how much matter and where do you get your seeds, it was just... I felt this immense age gap until I hung out some more with them in the subway at 3 in the morning. It's cool to finally find a rapport, even if it's a little later. The New York streets don't seem so barren then.

how to be dead

Regina’s last thoughts rest on Dmitri. Driving around Washington Square in his long black limousine. Not a Zil, an American car, solid, dependable. With a bloody wife, their secret history, a legacy that will be swallowed up by the earth leaving one witness: himself. The first of his many secrets: their wedding night, her virginity forcibly taken, her meek submittal under shock. He plunges in, his circumcised flesh puncturing deep within her. When he finally comes, she swears he whispers one word: suki. Bitch. Silently snipping the end of a long Havana, he lights up the cigar, thinking of loneliness. As the blood courses one last time through her body - sluggishly - she thinks too. Of being the last defense against the guilt that she imagines exists in his every nook and cranny. Guilty, she screams in her thoughts, and at the same moment, he thinks the same thing – as if there were some telepathic link between the two. There is room for regret, he ponders, but not now. The elegant vehicle turns a street corner, and there is a brief moment of weightlessness in the middle of the turn. Floating in mid-air. It is like floating in space, the coldness and the stillness bringing accusations to him to contemplate for the rest of eternity. And as he feels he is about to be judged – he falls back to earth, and he is once again a lone millionaire, a common criminal, a grimy Russian thug, sitting in his limousine, alone.

AUGUST 20, 2004

missed going to vermont, and montreal, because of that silly no ID thing. while i could have chanced and just used the driver's license to get across the border, i'm concerned about not being able to get back in. so there went a wonderful weekend in canada. doesn't mean can't have no fun - i'm going to be running the hava nagila round downtown Brooklyn and shooting malts straight to my brain all Saturday night. bk's having a partay partay partay.

phone's busted. that's a pain in the ass. lisa called, i think to ask if i was coming, and i "hung up" on her. actually, my phone died. can't charge the fucking thing, man!! still working on that epic, how to be dead. it's easier to write than any of my past attempts at fiction. it just somehow flows - much easier to get an author's tone when i find my characters more compelling. they have histories - wildly different histories, widely different motivations, widely different impetus to get into this messed up relationship that costs them more than a couple years of their life. it's a journey into the pains of knowing why they'll never work out, and a paean to all those who live the rest of their lives in their memories.

just want to give a holla to my old-ass friend, assad. i'm like sooo late in the happy bdays, but i'm getting round to it. (sound of slap) there, self-punishment for forgetting. happy now? happy birthday, octagenarian.

somebody described frou frou, the shins, nick drake, as emo. is that quite correct? i mean, i thought emo was little bitch music made by girly men (yeah, yeah, harsh, but then i also love some emo stuff... call me crazy). i found this wonderful singer, maria mena (you're the only one). she's pretty awesome, in a girl standing on her lawn in the clean well-kept suburbs singing her lungs out and just happens to have a little band behind her way. then there's katie melua - she's norah jones with much more guitar (she plays guitar, duh). she's a little more blues-oriented, and british. crawling up a hill is a great song, relaly blues-oriented. has that little harmonica riff in the background. "my life is just a slow train, crawlin' up a hill..." jamie cullum's twentysomething is a great testament to the problems i'm gonna face pretty soon. haha, the words make me laugh - "the world don't need scholars as much as i thought"... all about how he's useless pretty much and still has to find himself. ends up going to drink and wash all that indecision down with a pint. zero 7: passing by. yum.

just read this little gossipy book called the second assistant about the perils of hollywood, and all that fakery. and how one simple girl gets to love it all. she gets to have affairs with hot actors, producers, gets a script through to the studios, launches the career of a young auteur, survives a hostile takeover... yeah, yeah. sure. also read donna tartt's the secret history. how an odd group of friends commits murder (they are entirely guilty, but is fucked up a good excuse to get off the charge?) and how their friendships start to crumble away with their "secret history." i appreciated that they seemed a little out of time and place, but maybe that's new england for you. it's a good book. kept me up until i finished. that was a bad idea.

watched zatoichi with steve a couple nights ago. strange movie. they had a glee club-esque tap scene at the end, as the ending festival... weird. bloody, bloody action, but kind of weak story buildup. is it just me or do some of these foreign movies got to have more tight storytelling? they dwell on silence as emotion, pretty uneffectively. i mean, there are some great practitioners of the art, but this pretense of moving slow without maintaining interest is getting old, man. i mean, not only asian directors, but also some of those european guys. fine, we have amelie and city of god but stuff like red, white, blue, the horseman on the roof, swimming pool, monsieur ibrahim, la dolce vita, even amores perros... lack something in the "i'm just a simple guy trying to enjoy the film" area. yeah, call me a low-minded runt, all you film buffs, but give me something like the sweet hereafter or the cider house rules or riding in cars with boys or boys don't cry or even garden state. slow, building, has something to say, leaves me unbearably sad. pretty good work, guys.

AUGUST 17, 2004

One note concerning Annie Jacobsen (if you remember, she was the hysterical white woman who believed that 14 Syrian musicians acting a little weird were terrorists, and she was outraged that airport security let them go after thorough background checks):

Let's say there was a reason to be suspicious. Why not, after all these heightened warnings from President Bush's voice for Republican scare campaigns, the Department of Homeland Security? Of course, he's not doing anything to help prevent actual terrorism by his recently announced plan to remove soldiers from places like South Korea, when North Korea is an active enemy actually a threat and actually developing nuclear weapons. But never mind that. Let's say Arabs of a dark-skinned nature - we can disregard white-skinned Arabs, those blonde honeys from, ha, Syria, won't do no harm, and who knows, maybe Annie herself is one of those, masquerading as an American chump - let's say they are planning outrageous terrorist attacks. Like all the non-Arab crazies who before 9/11 routinely hijacked or caused violent commotions on board aircraft for paranoid, manic or terrorist action. But those were before, and this is now, it's only dark-skinned Arabs now. Forget that the DHS is also looking out for al-Qaeda recruits who are non-Arabs, that doesn't matter. Oh, and forget that the percentage of terrorists on any flight, or even Arab terrorists on any flight, is less than 0.00000001% of tickets sold, ever.

The fact is, 14 dark-skinned Arab men sitting in an obviously suspicious Z-pattern had to go to the bathroom many times, including one episode in which one passenger was in the loo for ten minutes. Enough time to put together something of true carnage - or maybe just a leaky bowel taking too long to pass? Nah. Can't be. Of course, it was the last straw when he came back smelling like bathroom chemicals, which is definitely the first step in making a bomb. Maybe a manure bomb, god knows those things can be powerful. One even looked at Annie funny. I mean, who does that, give you the evil eye? I mean, they must be planning something. Normal people just nod at you! Even when you probably gave them the evil eye first.

I mean, we can ignore the fact that the air marshals noticed nothing wrong, because their two years of experience doing this means hogwash. Annie's experience as a paranoid, hysterical freak that could cause more damage by spreading panic to the rest of the plane than this potential terrorist could with his pinking shears (taken by airport security) or nail clippers (also taken by airport security). God, this makes me want to smoke so bad (lighter taken by airport security). We can't forget the fact that Annie's backup testimony is extremely reliable. Good wholesome people, of the Flight Air Marshals Association, who hijack KLM logos as their own (without the KLM letters, of course) and are made of disgruntled air marshals from the regular air marshal association. Good that the other woman noticing the same things was a woman Annie interviewed and who said almost exactly the same things. I mean, we can't forget the fact that on later retellings, some guy appeared out of nowhere doing the finger across throat motion. She must have been in huge shock, because she forgot to mention that in the first article.

It's absolutely shocking that after meeting the 14 men at the gate, interrogating them for a couple hours, exhaustively researching their backgrounds, calling the hotels and places they would be playing at and finding nothing wrong, that they were let go. Come on, these musicians could have a link to al-Qaeda. Maybe their third cousin on their mom's side's nephew's second wife is the daughter of a suicide bomber, and that means, bam, terrorist. Gee, only a fool couldn't see that one coming. Look! They even have expired visas! No matter that immigration law let them in legally and that the expiration date on the visa has no bearing on their status at that moment, that's just letting them off easy. I mean, we should hold them for as long as we need to prove their terrorist connections, because God knows holding people without charges is fully democratic, especially for those that are presumed guilty until proven innocent. Just like Israel these days, setting good examples as beacons of freedom. And it's perfectly all right that Annie should be whining about this weeks after the event with rejoinder after rejoinder. Is it her fault that the meanies in the American public haven't given her the 15 minutes of fame she warrants? Of course not. Just as it isn't her fault that it would be almost a joy to see her punched once or twice - fine, three times. A joy to me let alone the 14 guys that had to go through so much shit for her irresponsible and juvenile fantasies. She probably plays terrorist-and-corporals as her new sexual cowboys-and-indians.

Whew! There goes my rant. Over and out.

Will Republicans play dirty during the RNC in New York? I'm sure they will. Here's an easy way to use liberal anger for your disposal:

"A 1978 CBS broadcast reported that, according to Army sources, as many as one in six protesters at the Chicago '68 protests were really undercover military intelligence agents. There were local police and FBI agents planted throughout the antiwar movement, often urging their cohorts to ever more daring feats of resistance. Richard Nixon's White House relished riots, knowing they only helped the Republicans. On a larger scale, the FBI's COINTELPRO program used its agents to provoke violence in antiwar and civil rights groups throughout the late '60s and early '70s.

Passacantando sees the current administration as capable of similarly dirty tricks. "You don't have to be that much of a strategist to see huge potential for that again. You're dealing with an administration that has seemed to stop at nothing to accomplish its ends," he says. "Certainly you would not assume that the Bush administration is more moral than the Nixon administration." There have already been some incidents of agents posing as activists and trying to ratchet up confrontation. In Denver last year Darren Christensen, an undercover policeman working with the federal Joint Terrorism Task Force, joined an antiwar group planning a peaceful sit-in and shocked them by suggesting that they charge a line of armed policemen.

"In a supercharged emotional situation, provocateurs who mean it and provocateurs who fake it have a natural alliance," says Gitlin. "It's not always easy to know who's who. It doesn't take a lot of sparks to ignite people who hate Bush." ...

"I think the Republicans will probably do what they did in 1968 and make television commercials of people rioting in the street and then promote their guy as the superintendent of order," he says. "I sure wouldn't want to be explaining to my kid how it turned out that Bush won election by three electoral votes because of some last-minute surge of opinion in West Virginia where that commercial played three times an hour."

-- from a salon.com article by michelle goldberg

I wrote a post at home concerning my awesome, awesome weekend but my computer is having Internet problems. So that will have to wait.

Republican National Convention comes to New York City... why did they choose New York, where Dems outnumber Republicans 5 to 1 and every corner has some sort of anti-Bush, anti-Republican slogan/sticker/poster. They know they're gonna get nothing done, and pranks are going to be pulled, probably on national TV. We'll have mayhem and more police brutality (because naturally, people are going to do much more) and hundreds of thousands of protesters everywhere (I especially like the world's longest unemployment line idea). In fact, I wish I could be there to see it in action.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A6404-2004Aug16.html

AUGUST 13, 2004

Bad Wal-Mart: http://www.clevescene.com/issues/2002-09-04/feature.html/1/index.html

There was an incident at a free standing open MRI on August 16, 2002.Someone accompanying a patient was locked inside the room during a procedure, and asked to be let out three times during different cycles, without a response from the tech. This was asked from next to and far away from the treatment head/patient head. Once the individual screamed. No response from the tech. The patient spoke. No response from the tech. The tech said afterwards that he heard the non-patient vaguely. Which regulatory agency should this be reported to?

A: Interesting one. I would first check with the manufacturer to find out where the microphones are located and if they can pick up sounds from someone not inside the magnet. I would also perhaps check with the Chief Tech in MR. This may be a personnel issue. Other than that, I'm not sure there is a regulatory agency to report this to. There is not any rule that says that a companion of a patient should be heard, to my knowledge.

These are your doctors speaking: from a medical panel with members from Yale, Johns Hopkins, NYU and USC. I don't know any MRI room where you can't see into the room from where the tech operating the thing is. Besides, how do you lock a person in the room and not let them out? Common courtesy. That's bullshit that people can't report it to a regulatory agency, because that's still an abuse or at least hospital incompetence. Fine, you couldn't hear the outside guy, but the guy in the MRI speaks and no response? What if you were claustrophobic and stuck in there, and wanted out? Please. Fix the mics, respond to cries for help (remember, the tech vaguely heard something!), and allow the patient free choice (that includes letting people hear what he has to say).

A movie based on Che's early years is in the works (not the pictured one). In other movie news, Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg, writers of "Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle", are working on "Harold and Kumar Go To Amsterdam." I'm excited... if the sequel is as good as White Castle, there's yet another movie I can watch on a night like this. I had dinner at Buca di Beppo's with Sim and a bunch of people. Really good times - I met this BBB major named Rebecca who has big plans (coincidentally... like mine!). Finally, someone else who potentially wants an MPH and maybe go to Columbia for it. Competition, she said. This girl that was in Philo and ran the art gallery when I played for it was there, as well as Youngstrom, Ken and this other girl, who apparently lived three doors down from me. It's a little embarrassing to see neighbors you've never ever seen before, and such close by too. Anyway, I came home instead of going barhopping (as I needed to wait for my check to roll on in, and I am going on weekend trips the next few...). I got to chill with Eugene and Laura (it's been forever). Laura got back from Peru yesterday, and Eugene is leaving to California for a week. Some leaf, and lots of Everybody Loves Raymond. He's absolutely ecstatic about the Counterparts CD... sounds awesome. Should be, I hear it enough through the floor, and it sounds pretty damn good.

I've really got to stop playing this Frou Frou song, it's getting kinda scary. I do want to see Garden State again. The party scene is just so perfect, as is the unending sweetness of Natalie Portman. Peter Sarsgaard is endlessly expressive and perfect in his best buddy role (yeah, not too demanding, but still the picture of that guy sitting in a town back home and waiting for things to happen, and always waits for people to come back to him). Zach Braff is enduring in his role: where mere vapidness is called for, he delivers an effective recovery from a childhood of numbness and shut-away emotional pain. They play the Shins - while not my favorite band, it's a pretty good choice for "feature band". It's part love story, coming home story, personal realization story, family ghost angst story, power of friendship story... a big package for something that is effortlessly funny. The only gimmick seems to be the scene where Zach has the same pattern shirt as the wallpaper; the joke is made clear by a Jersey aunt. But, even as it is a see-through attempt at humor, it's still funny. Probably because it's understated when any other director would palm in an American Pie of Friends-size pause and piped-in laughs. The other thing was the last few lines in the movie. "because I love you..." or something to that effect. That was sweet but really did seem to break the flow of smart and/or realistic dialogue, kind of ending the movie on a sour (tho mostly sweet) note.

Usher and Kanye West are coming into town with John Legend. So is Norah Jones, Bebel Gilberto, and John Mayer, among others. If I didn't have Maine and Montreal plus New York to pay for, I would be SO there. I miss having the Philly Orchestra concerts; maybe I should have gone to the Bobby McFerrin concert because I certainly could have gone.

AUGUST 12, 2004

An annoyingly catchy song, "I'm A Mormon":
http://mediamogul.seas.upenn.edu/pennsound/authors/365/365-Days-Project-01-05-janeen-brady-and-the-brite-singers-im-a-mormon-1980.mp3

original Buffy.... all riiiiiiight: http://www.alyon.org/generale/theatre/cinema/affiches_cinema/b/bud-bye/buffy_the_vampire_slayer(2).jpg

Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass go to hell (frankly, these are all disturbing):
http://tralfaz-archives.com/coverart/F/frivolous_sour.html
http://www.317x.com/albums/t/altijuana/card.html
http://franklarosa.com/vinyl/Exhibit.jsp?AlbumID=31&allkibble=1

Tonight, I have heard the sounds of lovelorn balding men singing "Wind Beneath My Wings", the accordion guy from Lawrence Welk playing disco polka, over-enthusiastic housewives belting Porter-esque show tunes way off-key, a song about fucking known as "the king of fuh... all hail the mighty fuh-king", Kate MacDonald being such a great schoolgirl it's not even funny, how to (not) pick up a girl in the women's clothing department (in ten creepy steps - an audio excerpt of a bestselling 70s book on picking up chicks, with an ugly guy as the author), a Beach Boys reject's jingle for KFC, "tastes like bad ass" Utica Club beer promo songs, crazy Christian rock musicals with such hits as "God's Like That" and "It's Contagious", an anti-abortion epic by a (castrated-sounding) ventriloquist fatass named Lil' Markie that contains the line "why did you kill me mommy when god made me special for you?", Captain Kirk doin the base spoken word sketch that Stewie does on Family Guy ("she packed my bags last night, pre-flight. Zero hour. 9 am. And I'm going to be high..."), Ukrainian cowboys, terrible a cappella from the Netherlands circa the 1960s, Family Feud man (not Louie, the old one) singing stilted folk music, a young Dick Clark trying to tell old people about his generation's music ("you think we're just rebel whippersnappers"), a nondescript Kirsten Dunst talking about doing Jake Gyllenhaal in public, some Thai kid singing a real Swiss-style yodel with funk and disco overtones in Thai about the beautiful people of the Kuntai Isan, the Brain (from Pinky and the Brain) doing an Orson Welles with "green pea-ness", a live New Jersey wedding from the 80s (think Wedding Singer... but worse), Van Morrison doing "Ring Worm", "our table food is not Jesus" from Catholic teachings for the retarded, the Phil Phillips clip that starts off Sublime's "Two Joints", a radio ad for "the modern - the SAFE - laxative for CHILDREN", and Anthony Hopkins singing a cheesy love song (it only sounds scary to me because I can only picture Hannibal Lecter singing it). Good times.

AUGUST 11, 2004

no-knock raids, where cops can invade your house without knocking on the pretense that you have drugs and will attempt to hide them or flush them if the cops knock, thus removing your right to privacy as protected under the fourth amendment, and where if you reach for something, anything, the cops can say you were reaching for a gun and shoot you; and yes, it's allowed by the supreme court. john ashcroft backs them up, saying it's backed up by a warrant, but what is giving out warrants these days? ashcroft has never been one to allow anyone privacy - read his insistent support of the patriot act and other liberty-removing actions (against terrorists, he claims, as well as all those old people that died of shock by mistaken no-knock raids). or, as a drastic parallel, think of what the NKVD and the KGB did in the good old days of Communist Russia. They thought you were causing trouble? They came in without knocking and either took you away or shot you. No defense. It'rs murder, plain and simple, and there are enough cases to build a substantial case against no-knock raids. you see it all the time on COPS, but what happens when it's just an innocent? saying "i'm not the guy" doesn't really help you.

http://www.worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=19670
http://www.razormouth.com/archives/00000045.htm
http://personal.riverusers.com/~raykeller/oops.htm
http://www.freerepublic.com/forum/a38b973b06c42.htm
http://www.villagevoice.com/issues/0325/little.php
http://www.supremecourtus.gov/opinions/03pdf/02-473.pdf

and it's scary how many people are in favor of less gun control and think that this will actually deter crime. unfortunately for the NRA, america has the worst violent crime rate in the world for the size of its population. worst crime rate and worst firearm crime rate. other places where guns are for the most part banned, like canada and australia, still do have firearm crime but to a much lesser extent and an extremely low percentage in comparison with their populations. reading posts and talking to people i know, they say "i feel safer having guns around" or things of that sort. but personally, i find it unnerving. it puts the power of life and death in your hands when it shouldn't be your decision, and knowing if someone was a little mentally unbalanced (for whatever reason) and owned a gun, i wouldn't want to hang aorund them, ever, just in case i accidentally made them angry or panicked. gee.

another thing about having guns. say the cops bust in on you in a no-knock raid. you reach for a gun to protect you against robbers, but you don't know it's the cops. they shoot you, bc you're exercising self-defense.

AUGUST 10, 2004

Boys Don't Cry

A confused transsexual is raped after forced to reveal her gender identity; in retaliation, she is murdered, along with two other innocents. This is the premise of Boys Don't Cry, the movie where Hilary Swank (hot when she doesn't have her boobs taped and her hair in purposely mannish cuts) plays the transsexual. Chloe Sevigny plays her/his hot girlfriend. Of course, they are much prettier than the actual people were. But there are so many interesting aspects to the case: how small enclosed towns deal with gender identity, how law can choose against rape victims and let the rapists off (who had criminal records, and shown to be mentally impaired in the past), how two nitwits can plan a murder and announce that they would "get rid of the hands and head so no identification can be made" to anyone who will listen, how death penalty appeals can continue (even on spurious basis) for 10 years after the fact, and how hard it is for transsexuals to explain (imagine, hypothetically, you in that situation) that they aren't lesbian or gay, but a FTM or MTF. Whether or not the movie (or the book) stays true to life - there are still charges of LGBT and feminist propaganda - doesn't really matter, for the fact is, intolerance is intolerance

True Crime report: http://www.crimelibrary.com/notorious_murders/not_guilty/brandon/1.html

Find-A-Grave: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=8335706

AUGUST 9, 2004

Don't go see the Olympics this year... they're turning it into a circus rather than a celebration of sports and internationalism.

http://www.halifaxherald.com/stories/2004/08/08/f202.raw.html

An excerpt: "Strict regulations published by Athens 2004 last week dictate that spectators may be refused admission to events if they are carrying food or drinks made by companies that did not see fit to sponsor the games.

Sweltering sports fans who seek refuge from the soaring temperatures with a soft drink other than one made by Coca-Cola will be told to leave the banned refreshment at the gates or be shut out. High on the list of blacklisted beverages is Pepsi, but even the wrong bottle of water could land spectators in trouble."

That seems fucking ridiculous to me.

Similarly, in schools: http://www.well.com/~bernie/coke.html

Got hooked into dreampop after hearing Let Go by Frou Frou, from the Garden State soundtrack. Joining forces with All the Waiting by Zero 7 and other trippy songs like Beautiful and Deep Love from Mandalay (whom you can find in the Cafe del Mar collabos or at any spin joint down Europe way) and The Album Leaf and Heather Duby, Emilie Autumn, Postal Service (with haunting number On Great Heights), Supreme Beings of Leisure (on any superbarca lounge-r compilation near you) and more recently, Emiliana Torrini. Others come to mind - Portishead and even Paul Oakenfold - as the magic of this genre is the electronica beats and hooks that meld with the soaring female vocals. In some instances, there are good male practitioners - Faultline, for example - but those lean much more toward the mainstream.

A good sidebar after an exhausting weekend. Eats at Xe Lua, Ocean City and Jones Restaurant, with Rachel. Picnic in Rittenhouse with Grace, bbq with Dr. Doty and the Smell and Taste crew, drinks with Ben at LT's, mourning the beach, too much beer, poker night at Mel's, Collateral, the afternoon with the old guy in tight biker shorts who knew this guy from Indonesia, the Jewish graveyard across from Pennsylvania Hospital, the sunny spot that kept moving (and the girl in blue who moved with it), the Corrections and losing concentration because this scary guy is trying to make eye contact (jesus...), then this girl across the fountain is playing look at, look away, look at, blush. I can't get that red.

GameSpot to buy Nightfire and Manhunt. Spur of the moment purchases, just like how I bought the Heather Duby album online for 8 bucks. But that was only 8 dollars, not 50. Spending a surplus transaction that I got mysteriously. Manhunt was pulled off the shelves of certain department stores in Britain because it was too violent. NC-17, it's rated, and the gore and darkness and the sound of your own heart are all right there. It's kind of gross that way. You're at the whim of this director guy who makes snuff films. People getting murdered on camera, and the director goes "Cash, people will be SHOUTING your name after this!" So far, I've taken out the garbage with a plastic bag, a glass shard, a nail gun, a baseball bat and a crowbar. Pretty vicious ways to die, here. Decided on that instead of Doom 3, which could be scary, but felt like just another run-around killing aliens. Which is fine by me, really, because I'm planning to get back into Half-Life 2, but the Doom series was just different. No story, no mystery, just blam blam and run. Yeah, I might look a maniac, just a little. But what country has all those kids who watch enough television to see thousands of people die every year (though it's, for the most part, faked)? I am absolved of all guilt.

In the long documentary battle, the Right is being left far behind. All the recent documentaries are somewhat left-leaning. The Fog of War has Robert McNamara explaining the policies that led to the firebombing deaths of hundreds of thousands in Tokyo and in Dresden, and why his actions in war were (what he thought was) right. He seems like a nice man, but the implication is that he isn't. Fahrenheit 9/11, naturally, is anti-Bush, anti-Republican, and a breadwinner for Michael Moore. The Hunting of the President depicts the Right's attempts to stymy Clinton during his tenure; it's supposed to be chilling in the way it depicts a giant collaboration to slow all political activity in Wahington (all Dem activity of course)... but then again, the Democrats tried to do that to Bush too, with less success, due to inefficient attacks or not rising totally to the bait. And now, the penultimate "documentary" for the left campaign is Going Upriver: the Long War of John Kerry. There will be an October 1 theatrical release, with plenty of time left over for this to sway minds for the November elections. Any tricks and advantages the Bush campaign thinks it has right now, or that it can pull in October - you better make sure this movie gets canned. Points in its favor (or against it, depending on which way you lean) include the movie's director: George Butler, a long time friend of Kerry. Mmhmmm. Documentary.

BAGHDAD, Iraq (CNN) -- The governor of Najaf cleared the way Monday for military operations around the Imam Ali Shrine, the most holy place in Shiite Islam, where fighters loyal to radical cleric Muqtada al-Sadr are holed up, said a commander for the U.S.-led multinational forces. Al-Sadr has promised a fight to the death against the American-led forces by his Mehdi Army militia.

According to Islamic theology, the Mehdi is the "directed one" or the "divinely guided one"; therefore, his job is kind of like a prophet. Abdullah ibn Abbas, one of the Prophet's most learned companions, said that the Prophet asked, "how would my family perish when I am at its beginning, Jesus, the son of Mary, is at its end and the Mehdi from my progeny is in the middle?" al-Sadr thinks he can claim Mehdi-ship (Mahdi, an English bastardization, has been used to depict crazed fanatic leaders in many a thriller novel... read Ludlum's The Icarus Agenda)? No wonder Iraqi leaders can allow war on the guy; he must be a fool to try and persuade the Islamic world that he himself can be in any way holy - or even protect the holy cause.

AUGUST 8, 2004

I'm going to be a senior at the University of Pennsylvania, and as yet, I still don't know whether the plan that I've made for myself is the right one. Call me indecisive, but I still can't figure out what pros I'm willing to sacrifice and what cons I'm willing to accept. Take writing, for example. I love doing it, yet my current aim to get into medical school doesn't have too much of a place for writing, or the study of history. True, I could go into science history, but more often than not, it's a throwaway field with little in the way of practicality. Unless, of course, I become a famous author on the subject. Be a Stephen Jay Gould kind of figure, with less evolutionary anthropology and more history. I'm doing a diplomatic history minor at the same time I attempt to finish my biology major. Not to say that I wouldn't want to fulfill all my academic ambitions... but being penniless at the same time doesn't have quite a draw. And I should know. While I'm not quite penniless now, I've lived on the edge for a long time. Paying my tuition and all my bills doesn't leave me or my family with very much, so I see the need to be practical.

AUGUST 7, 2004

The Leaves

Richard Kim-Hanes, 21, of Long Beach County, Fla. died early yesterday morning of a drug overdose. A lonely man, Richard frequented the neighborhood park to ostensibly find himself - more often than not, it was a chance to see the rest of the world in action while he sat still. I am an observer, he liked to say. To the old men who still shuffled on to the stone benches with their scuffed chess boards, he had a smile. Warm, as if he knew what their secret joy was, and what kept them ticking after all these years to come all the way down to this windy niche when it took them days, even weeks, to work up the nerve to get to the doctor's, or to the social club, and even to the barber. For the bum who slept under the oak tree by his bench, he gave a dollar every day. A creature of habit, one could say. His intention - as he noted frequently to the inert figure on the ground - was to help him rehabilitate, one dollar at a time. It wasn't much, Richard would mumble, but it was enough to keep the guy quiet. Sometimes, a leaf would fall off a tree, and as the wind blew the leaf into the waiting death grip of the street, and cleaning trucks, and gutters, Richard would whisper: it's your moment, so take it. But he didn't feel alone in these times, away from everything. Rather, he felt a great emptiness and sadness, stretching over miles of desolate wasteland in the depths of his heart, when in the center of a great crowd. There for who he was; and he wondered why he felt so insignificant when the crowd had dispersed and the musicians gone home. There was happiness, he could concede, but it was a hollow victory, as if he expected to be forgotten once the lights were off and no one could see his face. On these days, he looked in the mirror and noticed the bags under his eyes, the blemishes, the unruly hair, the sorrowful cleft in his chin. He had had a girlfriend, but she had been a wild child. Joining in his sadness, and leaving when it didn't change; when it continued in the same boring form, day after day, the doubts plaguing his soul and forcing him to withdraw deeper and deeper into a cocoon of embarrassment and lies. She had spit it all out, forced him to hear and see her inequities, and when he did naught but lose the anger behind his eyes, she began to show her depravities. Like a shadow, he melted away with wilted flowers and unanswered phone calls, as if he were already dead and buried. He never saw the men, but he knew, he had internalized this map of smells, movements and sayings of hers that led to one inevitable conclusion. It was over. And in the lengthening gloom that came with night, he turned to ice. Warm tears flowed onto cold, chapped cheeks; light glittered off of stone, and marble, and pale as death in the moonlight. His favorite seat was still there, waiting for its regular occupant; the bum, nodded and fell back into the gaping pit of weary rest and acceptance; and the leaves had gone. Their moment was past; one last thought, before he straightened his pants and sat straight and stiff, rigid, immovable. A quick snap of the elastic, heightening pressure in the forearm, stick, push, out. He sat until daybreak, and followed the leaves.

AUGUST 6, 2004

Tightness, or A Life Not Lived

The entrance to their home was less-than-perfect, Dana concluded. She was sitting on a chair, balanced on the concrete walk that led up to their otherwise fabulous brownstone in the 'burbs. One wall - overgrown with roses, and tamed by a hastily-installed trellis - met the other by means of a large wooden door, with a portcullis-like criss-cross pattern down the cedar monster. It was as if there was too little wall to go around; there was too much empty space that that door had to cover, and with it all came the illusion of tightness. She already felt restricted. Here she was, at 35, and just a housewife. Her one ambition in life had been to work in art designs - she imagined red or velvet-shaded matte coverings on the dusty tomes of academia, or coffee table - but life had led her around the block too many times. We no longer need you, said the perfect teeth behind the oddly uncluttered desk at Hughes Publishing and Media. Ka-ching went her eyes the next day, when she met a morose millionaire at Elway's Club on 19th. He was nursing a gin and tonic, she a Cosmopolitan. They bonded over the muted blacks in his studio apartment. But that was three years ago, and all that she had to show for this new millennium (it was New Year's Day, 2000) was a husband in early retirement and too depressed to leave the enormous (dark cavern-like space arbitrarily called the) master bedroom, as well as a 3-year old lovechild who preferred the crazy lady who routinely let her dogs "relax" on their front lawn every morning to her mother. Even the mailman got baby air kisses once in a while. It was choking, like the creepers up and down that wall. She imagined roots extending to the depths and clenching at the foundations of her house, their house, bought for millions and worth less. People moved away from the suburbs when there were too many people. Mass migration back to the cities. Like all the beautiful flowers in her front lawn, chased away by pernicious dandelions and smug bindweeds. The gardeners were long gone, fired for blistering a hornet hive with a mixture of poison and concrete, and the ugly mixture proved to be an eyesore to the missus one angry day in May. From her seat on the driveway, she could see every feature of her life that she would want to see. Henry, upstairs, drinking himself into oblivion, his Prozac scattered along the windowsill. Baby Marcus, cooing at his nurse, and ignoring the stranger outside the glass. Her nails scratched messages on the side of her plastic-covered aluminum chair, and one hand idly flicked at a mosquito. She blinked and closed her eyes, willing the colors to come and open her up once more. The light was beautiful.

I put up a picture of Keira Knightley for my desktop. Figure it's a good thing to wake up to in the morning. In other news, I watched too many movies this week. Saw A Home At The End of the World - where Colin Farrell takes his acting abilities all the way. Extended male bonding and almost-nude scenes (the nude scene was dropped). The last half was the most emotionally terrifying for me (though the reviews loved the first half, which was just awkward). The relationship that these two friends have from their childhood extends into their adulthood, and as they change, their dynamics do as well. Robin Wright Penn comes in as "third wheel," but this reverts to the other guy soon enough. In the end, their makeshift family has fallen apart, leaving them back where they had started. It's pretty good like that. Says a lot without actually saying it (like Michael Moore... yup.). I also saw the Village, with some coworkers. Over pizza, we couldn't quite figure out if we liked it or not. Neither Anna, Mannin or Wendy had an opinion; TJ didn't say much at work the next day.

Last week, went to see De-Lovely. A glowing revue of all of Cole Porter's famous numbers, it felt more like an extended take (with drawn breath the entire way through) of shock toward his gayness. Not really that much material to go on. His wife, played by Ashley Judd, is good as a wife that loves him regardless of the miseries the smooth but almost callous Cole heaps upon her. The scenes are filtered with the syrupy tenderness that fill his songs, but lack very much solid substance. Of course, I wasn't expecting any solid substance, because this was more a chance to see a visual rendition of the amazing soundtrack (featuring Elvis Costello, Diana Krall, Alanis Morrissette and Sheryl Crow, among others).

Harold and Kumar, of course, and today, Little Black Book. It was billed as a romantic comedy, but it really ain't. It's a sad, depressing little tale, with a good moral bite. While the beginning of the movie sucked, the real meat was the ending, where Brittany Murphy's abuse of her boyfriend's privacy, and the depths to which she lowers herself to find out about his past loves, all clash with her job as associate producer on a grubby Springer-like talk show. It's effective, that one last embarrassing scene. The rest is tripe, but for that 20 minutes, it's gold. Because the sound messed up (sounded like Russian) and the projection flipped over (it was fixed), Molly and I got free tickets to a movie of our choice, redeemable any time.

Talked to Brenna, who wants to see me next weekend, regardless of whether her party happens or not (this weekend, her housemates are gone, so nixed... next week, there are two parties to which office people would have to come...thus, could be nixed). Excited for that. Not excited about missing Nachi's party in Boston, but it's way far. Can't make it all the way over there, don't got the money. Rich wants me to go down to the beach with him. I think that's a good idea. I might ask Molly and Melody if they want to come down. My parents asked me to go to Williamsburg on the 21st; it would be fine, but I've seen so much of them this summer. This past weekend, I went to Pittsburgh with them, and that was already enough. I talked to Robbie Ali, this Public Health guy, who told me all bout the conservation and public health work he does in Pittsburgh, as well as in Indonesia and many places around the globe. Interesting. The kind of stuff I want to do when I finally get out of school. But that's a long time coming. Saw Roz today after dropping Molly off at home. She's ever ambitious, probably looking for some academic points or doing her usual social climbing to benefit her already amazing resume. She's really nice, but her ambitions sometimes shows a little too much.

I think I'm going to bed now. That would be a good idea.

AUGUST 5, 2004

Clinton's bombing of Iraq also had the hyped-up, not-enough-intel-but-let's-go-ahead-with-it-and-pretend-we-did-have-enough feel to it. Scary parallels. AND... a Democrat is just as capable as a Republican of buying public opinion with war. But Clinton was far more effective in eliciting sympathy.

http://www.newyorker.com/archive/content/?020930fr_archive02

You're probably saying - does this guy have anything to do? Yeah. Make more social/political commentary on HUP's dime (actually, I have been getting a lot of work done... that, and the fact that the doctor next to me is sleeping and the boss is putting golf balls in his big backyard at the moment).

I've been reading critiques and counter-critiques on Fahrenheit 9/11. They are quite fascinating. Also fascinating are the FARK.com comments.

Here's Dave Kopel at the Independence Institute, cataloguing 59 Deceits of the movie:

http://anton-sirius.dailykos.com/story/2004/7/6/1942/00222

Here's Anton Sirius of the Daily KOS, counter-critiquing Kopel: http://anton-sirius.dailykos.com/story/2004/7/6/1942/00222

Here's Michael Moore's own defense: http://www.michaelmoore.com/warroom/f911notes/

Here's the FARk user comments on Kopel's article: http://forums.fark.com/cgi/fark/kibble.pl?IDLink=1067203

As well, I was reading a July 30 article from the Albuquerque Journal that goes as follows: http://www.abqjournal.com/elex/204620elex07-30-04.htm

Obtaining Cheney Rally Ticket Requires Signing Bush Endorsement

Some would-be spectators hoping to attend Vice President Dick Cheney's rally in Rio Rancho this weekend walked out of a Republican campaign office miffed and ticketless Thursday after getting this news: Unless you sign an endorsement for President George W. Bush, you're not getting any passes.... An endorsement form provided to the Journal by Random says: "I, (full name) ... do herby (sic) endorse George W. Bush for reelection of the United States." It later adds that, "In signing the above endorsement you are consenting to use and release of your name by Bush-Cheney as an endorser of President Bush."... The John Kerry/John Edwards campaign on Thursday issued a news release that asked, "Shouldn't all New Mexicans have the right to see their VP?"

This is quite disturbing.

If you buy 100 tablets of Prozac, it will typically cost you $247.47. Price of the ingredients themselves is roughly 11 cents. The markup? An astounding 224,973%.

For other mainstream drugs like these, markup goes from a minimum of 2000% all the way to the ridiculous heights for Prozac.

Drug companies say the cost is justified because of high R&D costs. Yet, R&D cover only about 16% of operating expenses every year. The rest goes into marketing and probably lobbying up on Capitol Hill. They are said to be one of the most powerful lobbies on the Hill. So where's that justification?

The drug issue in America is making me really mad. Bush's faith-based initiatives and abstinence-focused campaigns to halt diseases like AIDS (where is the sense in stopping sexually transmitted diseases by paying for abstinence programs when people have been having illicit sex since the beginning of time, prudishness or not?) have spent wasted billions when the money should be going to attack the disease itself, using our vertiable fount of scientific knowledge and our supposed humanity. Attacking the moral basis of these diseases does nothing. What is most troubling, however, is a seeming collusion of government with big pharmaceutical companies. The NIH has started inquiries into allegations (and in some cases, admittances) of scientists spending government time on work for private companies, and benefiting way beyond their government salaries. This in a time when efforts to combat global AIDS using drugs that are at least mildly effective are being hampered because the US refuses to help distribute cheaper, generic drugs and instead demand that charity organizations buy name-brand drugs from US companies if they want US funds (Bill Gates and Bono have given as much money as the US government has forked up for global AIDS). How can poor people in Africa afford drugs that even hard-working Americans can't pay for? Not even AIDS, but how about normal drugs? How come buying these, even with Medicare, bankrupt Grandma and Grandpa? As for this article, why is Medicare not allowed to negotiate with drug companies for pharmaceutical discounts? I can't think of ONE solitary reason. Medicare is supposed to help the public get health care, not hamper these efforts.

Buying Drugs in Bulk: it's time to negotiate.
By Robert B. Reich, The American Prospect Online
June 16, 2004

It's a basic economic principle: You can get a better deal when you buy in bulk. That's why consumers form buying clubs -- to pool their buying power and get better deals from merchants.

Fifty of America's largest employers just announced they're joining together in a buying club to bargain directly with drug makers in order to get low drug prices on behalf of their five million employees and families. It's a smart move. Their drug bills rose over 9 percent last year, following 8 years of double-digit increases. 50 big employers representing 5 million people have a lot of bargaining clout. They can stem the rising tide.

And this is just the start. With these kind of savings, it's only a matter of time before every employer in America joins a buying club to negotiate low drug prices.

Of course, when it comes to big purchasers with a lot of clout, the United States government is the 3,000 pound guerilla. For years now the Department of Veterans Affairs has been using its buying power to negotiate low drug prices for veterans.

So maybe you'd think that Medicare -- representing all the nation's seniors -- would use its mammoth buying power to get even bigger drug discounts for them. But you'd be wrong. The new Medicare drug bill prohibits Medicare from negotiating deals with drug companies. The pharmaceutical industry used its clout with the Republicans in Congress who designed the bill to prevent such bargaining.

Starting this month, seniors can get cheaper drugs by using Medicare discount cards. But because Medicare can't do what the Veterans Administration does -- can't do even what private employers are now joining together to do -- the Medicare discounts are limited.

The consumer group Families USA has found that Medicare discount card prices on the most frequently prescribed drugs for seniors are at least 50 percent higher than the drug prices available to veterans. And you can bet that as America's major employers pool their bargaining power, they're going to get even better deals for their employees.

This is crazy. Here we have private-sector employers using their clout to get drug discounts, while Medicare is barred from doing the same thing. Congressional Republicans, who champion the free market and tell us repeatedly that the private sector is more efficient than the public, have prevented the public sector from being more efficient -- and saving money for older Americans. Go figure.

AUGUST 3, 2004

I saw Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle with Rachel last night, at the Riverview. Even though freaking taxis cost us $25 bucks and tickets $18 making it a very expensive $21.50 each to go see the movie - I think it was worth it. It was hilarious! Most of it was being able to identify (though you really don't have to fit either stereotype) with the anal (Asian) finance person and the (Indian) pre-med still frontin' after all these years for daddy's dollar.

There's this weed scene, right? Kumar sees a giant bag of weed. And then, a dream sequence enfolds - Kumar going on romantic dates with said bag, Kumar making out with said bag, Kumar marrying said bag, Kumar calling said bag dumb bitch, ou can't make coffee, Kumar apologizing on bended knee to said bag... um, Kumar, still in jail here?

Whatever. The Princeton scenes were funny. And Battle-shits was definitely a highlight. As was the cheetah. And Neil Patrick Harris. And all the racists getting their due. And the American Dream as parallel to the search for a White Castle. And coming home at 11 pm and wondering where the entire day went. Yeah. I sat on my couch for 10 minutes pondering that one.

In other news... Dave Chappelle renews with Comedy Central for $50 million! That means two more original seasons to look forward to! And Dave Chappelle gets fucking rich! With all that money... that shit better be as good as the first two seasons. I'm gonna be watching. You know who else loves Dave Chappelle? Wait till she hears about this.

Also, Fahrenheit 9/11 becomes first documentary to top $100 million in domestic release.

AUGUST 2, 2004

Strangely enough, on the day I obsess with conspiracies...

Experts Try to Save JFK Assassination Tape

AP, Aug 2

DALLAS - Archivists are trying to preserve and copy the only known sound recording of the gunshots that killed President John F. Kennedy — a recording that has fueled conspiracy theories.

The recording, made by a police motorcycle radio, is now too fragile to be played and has never been authentically copied, officials said. Researchers at the National Archives in Washington hope optical scanning will help.

The recording became a focus of a 1979 report by the House Select Committee on Assassinations.

Committee members said it indicated four shots were fired at the Dallas motorcade on Nov. 22, 1963, including one from a separate location from where Lee Harvey Oswald fired shots, suggesting more than one shooter. The committee concluded that Oswald probably did not act alone.

The recording was not used during the Warren Commission investigation, the first government inquiry into Kennedy's assassination. The commission concluded Oswald was the lone gunman and fired three shots.

For years researchers have studied inferior copies of the recording.

Some say the recording reveals three shots were fired and Oswald acted alone; others say they can hear four shots and conclude Oswald was aided by a second gunman.

Gary Mack, curator of the Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza, near where the shooting took place, said an authentic copy of the recording might "resolve part of the Kennedy assassination, one way or the other."

"There is not closure on this issue," Mack told The Dallas Morning News' online edition Monday.

Interestingly enough, Arlen Specter was a member of the Warren Commission investigating the JFK assassination. He developed and advocated the one-bullet theory, that was the only theory to promote one killer, and allow the federal government to place all the blame on one man: Lee Harvey Oswald. Specter, a year later, contradicted his own theory and said that doctors had second thoughts about their autopsy conclusions and changed their mind, the day after. Thus, it supports Warren Commission conclusions and not FBI conclusions, who didn't know about the doctors changing their mind. The Warren Commission, however, believed that doctors had decided on the night of the autopsy and did not change their mind. The first conclusion was that the bullet penetrated Kennedy's back and fell out during heart massage. The second conclusion took into account the throat wound that no one knew about the first day, saying that the bullet went completely through the neck.

Confusing.

Rereading Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections currently. I was home this weekend, and I got to pick up a bunch of the books I've been meaning to reread. Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient - while the movie was a bunch of sap, the book is quality. It is evocative in such a way that really ethereal novels are; it's a good change from reading trashy novels. And he's from Toronto. As for good mysteries that read like high literature, Robert Wilson's The Company of Strangers is really good. It was so good, in fact, that I ended up buying A Small Death in Lisbon, his other book. Just as cleanly plotted and reminiscent of World War II espionage in the way that cigar smoke is in a room after the people have left.

Was almost going to bring back L.A. Confidential by James Ellroy. I didn't because I just saw the movie and wanted it to fade first. Ellroy is such a good true-crime writer - but only in a few of his pieces. Many of his earlier works really sucked. But many of them - The Cold Six Thousand - and others: Suicide Hill, the Big Nowhere, American Tabloid. Awesome. He knows how to corral gangsters, penpushers and the boys in blue such that you really believe l.a. (and other cities, but mainly l.a.) are still dark, passionate, and riddled with graft and corruption. Too much sun these days.

Just finished reading Atul Gawande's Complications: A Surgeon's Notes on an Imperfect Science. A critique of the medical culture, it explains how medicine is not as infallible as we all think, and how doctors - as other humans - deal with the problems of stress, uncertainty and ethics when dealing with patient's lives. It's fascinating. While not the height of literature (albeit science-tinged), it's something I would aspire to writing. A summary of a science, couched in words and cases that depict the passion inherent within.

Concurrently, I finished rereading (I actually do reread a lot) Dan Brown's Angels and Demons. He lays out a huge Illumanti conspiracy (against the brainwashing of the Catholic Church) to destroy the Vatican and everything in it, which actually turns out to be a crazed priest's attempt to shw how endangered the church is by the cold heart of science. An intriguing argument, that is shown to be misguided by speeches by the more virtuous characters involved. I was looking Illuminati up online, and yes, there actually is a card and board games called Illuminati: the Conspiracy. I was reading this article online about the history and structure of secret societies in the Western tradition. The setup of the Assassins cult way back to Hasan-e Sabah was rather political and extended throughout the Middle East. The benefactors were only the organization (read: a secret, separate aristocracy of sorts) rather than the Islamic rulers and nobles who supposedly ran government in those countries where Assassin influence was rampant. Their motto was "nothing is true: everything is permitted."

The Knights Templar were perhaps just as influential, and quite possibly, much richer. They owned an entire fleet and had interest in many of the European markets. On one dark Friday the 13th, a templar-hunt found the existence of secret-society structure under some talking head named "Baphomet." Cult figure. This was the day the Priory of Sion burned their leader at the stake to learn the whereabouts of the enormous gold hoard that had come from Jerusalem during the Crusades, when the Templars had assisted in sacking the city. They were later linked to "operative masonry", which displayed their influence and protection of certain buildings and royal families by extra stone carvings and moldings placed in key areas. This was thought to have evolved into the Freemasonry movement in America and the Jacobite movement in Scotland and England, as well as France, lasting through until destroyed by the French Revolution.

I'm going to stop reading this conspiracy nonsense. There's a whole lot of it, and some of the evidence is kind of persuasive (though mainly circumstantial). It all reads like satanic cult rites and scary horror movie plots, and are inexhaustible sources of plot for paranoid thrillers.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/353412.stm

From the New York Times: Nov. 1996
Pierre, Is That a Masonic Flag on the Moon?
by GEORGE JOHNSON

IN the days before the Internet, when rumors had to make their way by boat and horseback instead of by waves and wire, it took perseverance to assemble the pieces of a really good conspiracy theory.

Without so much as an America Online account, Timothy Dwight, president of Yale University two centuries ago, learned of an evil plot -- hatched in France by Freemasons hopped up on Enlightenment philosophy -- to overthrow the United States Government. A Bavarian secret society called the Order of the Illuminati was also involved. Unable to access alt.conspiracy or even a good E-mail program, Dwight had to resort to public speaking to spread the word.

"Shall we, my brethren, become partakers of these sins?" Dwight intoned before the graduating class of 1798. "Shall we introduce them into our government, our schools, our families? Shall our sons become the disciples of Voltaire, and the dragoons of Marat; or our daughters the concubines of the Illuminati?"

He was repeating ravings from a year-old book, "Proofs of a Conspiracy," by John Robison, a mathematician at the University of Edinburgh and one of the first of the great arachnids of paranoia. And Robison was recycling ideas that had been floating around since Vatican conspiracy theorists tried to explain away the French Revolution as a Masonic plot.

In those days, information (not to be confused with knowledge) crept along slowly.

How much easier it is in these modern times when bits zip around the globe at the speed of light -- or at least the speed of a good fiber optical T3 line.

Within hours of the Oklahoma City bombing, the throbbing, fevered brain of the Internet was hallucinating about a supposed second explosion, which was picked up by seismographs milliseconds before the Ryder truck blast. There it was: proof of a conspiracy so immense that it involved agents of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, minions of the New World Order, blowing up their own building. Like the second gunman on the grassy knoll, the second explosion entered the folklore of paranoia, with dizzying speed. Oklahoma City was linked to Waco and Ruby Ridge.

Electrified by the Internet, suspicions about the crash of T.W.A. Flight 800 were almost instantly transmuted into convictions that it was the result of friendly fire. Even the journalist Pierre Salinger was taken in. The culprit? Some blamed those evil A.T.F. agents. Or Arkansas state troopers. It was all linked to Whitewater -- unless the missile was meant for a visiting U.F.O.?

As the Internet grows bigger, more dense with synapses, the possibilities it can dream up multiply and then exponentiate. Postmodern literary theorists talk about language taking on a life of its own, speaking through the passive pawns called people. With the Internet you can almost see what they're getting at.

Ideas become E-mail to be duplicated and duplicated again, fanning out along the proliferating branches and twigs of circuitry both electronic and neural. The typists and the bleary-eyed readers are just extensions of their computer terminals -- a way for the ideas to get off the net and spread through the molasses-slow network of conversation, books, newspapers, radio talk shows, only to be picked up again and re-posted.

Did you know that Buzz Aldrin planted a Masonic flag on the moon? Or about the pyramids spotted during probes of Mars and then covered up by the Government? The details are all there in alt.conspiracy.

And remember the Hale-Bopp comet now swinging around the sun? It's on a collision course with earth and NASA knows it. Why was Clinton so eager to send troops to Zaire? For humanitarian reasons? Get real. According to the Internet, it must have something to do with the Ebola virus (genetically engineered in secret labs) and the New World Order, commanded by Boutros Boutros-Ghali. And why were the Arabs really so upset by that tunnel in Jerusalem? It leads to the hidden chamber that holds the Ark of the Covenant.

Everything is connected, just like the Internet itself. Someday, when all the pieces of the plot are assembled, we surely will behold the ultimate, the grand unified conspiracy theory. Stretch your imagination beyond even last week's "X-Files," where the cigarette man turned out to be the key not just to the alien autopsy but also to the assassinations of Raphael Trujillo, both Kennedys and Martin Luther King Jr. Like an evil Forrest Gump, he was present at the fall of the Soviet empire, and had his nicotine-stained fingers in the rigging of several important sporting events.

In the ultimate conspiracy, the Illuminati would be commanding, zombie-like Arkansas state troopers. With enough computer "enhancement" a cluster of grains on the Zapruder film would snap into focus -- and voila, a youthful Vincent Foster or his cyborg double. Hovering above Dealey Plaza would be a black helicopter (dispatched from Area 51, the secret U.F.O. base in Nevada). A

nd wait! Wasn't the Internet started by the Defense Department, as a nervous system for military research? Now it is slowly engulfing every citizen of the country. Here is the awful truth: The conspiracy theories are themselves a conspiracy -- a plot to convince all of us poor saps that in the rumble jumble of history anyone could possibly be in control.

End of article.

Hehe.

JULY 29, 2004

I'm rooting for Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle: 87% on Rotten Tomatoes.com

http://www.nytimes.com/2004/07/25/movies/25SCOT.html

http://www.villagevoice.com/issues/0430/lim.php

Thanks to Grace and cellist from Philly Orch. friend, got to attend Lang Lang concert at the Mann for free. Orchestra seats too. Verdi's Overture to I Vespri Siciliani was great - less impressed by Bloch's Schelomo, though it has its pretty parts. It's kind of like a week-long trip at the Wailing Wall. The wailing gets to you after a while. Soloist Bill Stokking was great (Grace was on hand to deliver some orchestra gossip....that I like to hear). Then Strauss's Till Eulenspiegel... Apparently, this is Luis Biava's last day as resident conductor, and he's doing all his favorites, most of which he also did during his time at Temple (again, Grace). It didn't rain hard, which was good, because otherwise it would have drowned out the fabulous playing of Lang Lang, who did the Rach 2 sublimely. His playing was melodious and his touch was light, yes, but I alreayd loved the piece beforehand. It has great haunting melodies in each movement, and there's something almost (Russian-y) patriotic about the swelling chords that fill out the place.

Lloyd was around again today, and caused some trouble. I caught him stealing before, and he wouldn't fess up. I just didn't reimburse his tokens, and he complained. Waited for Tristan, who gave in. Now, I thought that was a mistake. And yes, it came back to bite him in the ass today. The Penn police were called in because someone else was causing an uncomfortable feeling in the lovely day time cashier, and Lloyd happened to be there. He got caught up in the mess - and well, all the old shit came back. Now, Lloyd has some specific grudges (he even came back 20 minutes later with a different police officer). See, now store policy says we can kick people out who aren't Penn-related. God knows Lloyd isn't. But I think it's wrong to kick him out, since Video Vault sells to non-Penn-related people. And yes, he causes discomfort, but you're a business. You watch, and make sure people aren't stealing. You go heavyhanded on your policies when necessary, and never show fear to the customer. Which is what hasn't really happened. If he really is a nuisance, catch him in something, write up an incident report. That way, you have a definite reason for kicking him out. No bad blood (for no reason) and you cover your ass in case you get sued for racial discrimination or whatnot. There's fair business policy, and there's practical business policy. And the way it is right now, it's neither.

JULY 28, 2004

Just a little correction here. My little 5 point discussion of why American students are not exactly crowding the sciences isn't playa-hating. Nope. Too bad. These are general trends, as noted by commentators and journalists from the Chronicle of Higher Education to Atlantic Monthly to the New York Times. What should also be included is an urging to American institutions to provide more economic incentive to science graduates, American education to shape up in the sciences (if you can't get literacy quite right, it's kind of hard to move on), and American students to prove everybody wrong. Say yes, I am interested in furthering science. Not only being a doctor - everybody wants that - but being a researcher, a PhD candidate, somebody that will be part of the search for cures all over the country. Dems and Republicans bring up how America will lead the world, in respect to scientific research among other things. Stuff like AIDS cures, Parkinson's treatments, better drugs that are easier to produce - these are global needs that can only come about with strong support from the home team. And if we prohibit foreign students from packing the home team, then the burden falls on...

There you go.

Some people want scary things: http://www.hansonfiction.com

A Kerry Democrat? http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A16763-2004Jul26.html

Wow... administration labels group "not terrorist": http://www.nytimes.com/2004/07/27/politics/27iran.html?th

"Doublecheck your vote": http://www.technologyreview.com/articles/04/07/wo_hellweg072704.asp?trk=nl

Kerry says, "I will stand up and struggle, as others have, to try to get that right balance between violence, and sex, and things": http://www.abcnews.go.com/sections/WNT/US/kerry_interview_040722-3.html

NY Times is liberal, says NY Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2004/07/25/weekinreview/25bott.html

Guy watches DVD and crashes: http://www.cnn.com/2004/LAW/07/27/dvd.traffic.death.ap/index.html

Western pop music in China: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/5527248/

Eww, bog snorkeling: http://www.slate.com/id/2104258/

I tried to read this book, but the interview is much easier: http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200405u/int2004-05-20

Bush cuts in cancer treatments! http://www.salon.com/news/wire/2004/07/27/medicare/index.html

What a bitch: http://www.humaneventsonline.com/article.php?print=yes&id=4610

Four Frenchmen return from extended captivity at Guantanamo: http://www.iht.com/articles/531409.html

How to ruin tourism for yourself, and everybody else: http://www.usatoday.com/travel/news/2004-07-27-athens-gouging_x.htm

I've just eaten a bowl of watercress cooked with instant noodles, and a popsicle. On this crappy diet (except for the watercress), I think up ridiculous ideas on air tinged with monosodium glutamate and stupidity. I just watched Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen, and am shamefacedly admitting this fact. And funny enough, Lindsay Lohan wasn't the hot one (now who ever said she was?). It was the bitch girl, similar to the bitch girl that was in Mean Girls. And yes, I did see that one too. It was only playing at UA Theaters up in Upper Darby, and Anthony and I went up one night to go see that one. In any case, they kinda made her look just a little worse than Lindsay except for in the first scene where you see her. Wow, stupid thoughts.

I was actually trying to call Brenna at the time. However, Chinn answered the phone, and Brenna wasn't home. For someone that loves to be called, she is the hardest person to get a hold of. But I don't blame her - I'm the same way. I go oh, somebody called. I'll call them back in 10 minutes... no, too loud here, so another hour, when I get home... but it's a bad time, like dinner, or going to a bar time, so later... but they're going to bed now, so tomorrow... it's lunch time, I can't call... it's dinner... when should I call? Oh, after said person goes to bed. Yay. No, I'll call back some other time.

I was crazy enough to get two movies to watch tonite. The one I'm watching right now, while writing, so I'm not really paying too much attention to it: the Thin Red Line. Terrence Malik. Very hard-hitting movie. Released at the same time as Saving Private Ryan, so it kinda got dumped on. But it's infinitely darker. Tells us war is bad, and for the bonds it makes and breaks among men, whose business is honor and survival. Mostly survival. Weird, John Travolta playing a quiet role, almost an extra. Jim Caviezel, John Cusack, John C. Reilly, George Clooney, Elias Koteas, Jared Leto, Tim Blake Nelson, Woody Harrelson, Adrien Brody, Sean Penn, all playing soldiers with dreams and hopes and who die with futility in their eyes, and loss you can feel. An almost nonsensical loss, winning a ridge that they will abandon immediately. Just before, Nick Nolte, the bastard captain refused to allow them to reconnoiter to the side to lower casualties and keep surprise on their side, while still winning the ridge. But there's a don't be a coward mentality that pervades. Act the hero, rush the enemy, damn the consequences, die with honor, be tough, don't run from fights. And after huge losses, "these men... look at their spirit. They're raring to go..." and then the admission, "I've been waiting my whole life for this moment, and I'm not gonna let it go..."

Are you righteous? Are you kind? Are you loved by all? Did you hold goodness? Truth?
- impromptu last rites for the buried soldier

JULY 26, 2004

Why would American students shun Ph.D. programs?

1) Non-adequate returns: expected salary is $24,000 a year with no benefits; 10% chance of getting faculty positions; and little room for upward mobility. A BS in industry gets $40,000 without a problem.

2) Incredibly long amount of time to get Ph.D. with high workload.

3) Lower marketability as a Ph.D., than with a masters or bachelor's degree.

4) General laziness on the part of Americans, as opposed to the rest of the world. We take it for granted that our opportunities come easier, so we are unwilling to move into fields with such a high level of work.

5) Unpreparedness for continuing education in science, due to inefficient education system.

Merely one aspect of the "foreign students in research" issue.

So I haven't read John Irving's Widow For A Year, but it seems intriguing now. Maybe it's just the screenwriter doing a great job. In any case, I was extremely interested in the part of the young student that came to work with the writer, played by Jeff Bridges. While an outsider, he quickly comes to mean everything in the family relationship of the writer, his wife and his daughter. His wife believes the writer hired the kid to be his driver to his various affairs - women he would draw for his kids books which eventually turned to nude portraiture. In several funny moments, he turns from awe at his one female subject, Mrs. Vaughn, to degradation and then to shame. The pictures he draws of her nakedness he returns to her, and she then tries to kill him. It's funny to see him running down the street, but while it's funny, there's a poignancy to the pointlessness of his life. It's his method of coping with his part in the deaths of his two sons. He got drunk and didn't wipe the snow off his car or drive, making his 17-year old son drive and get into an accident, killing him and his brother. The writer's wife responds differently, and is transfixed by grief. She found her one son's leg still attached to her shoe in the car accident, and it haunts her. In their new house, with a new life and a new kid (played by Dakota Fanning's little sister), they try to heal. The writer has actually hired the kid to keep his grieving wife company, as he looks like one of the dead sons. They end up having an affair, which affects the daughter, as she is a witness to their relationship. The writer realizes this and thinks of his wife, whom he is separated from, as a bad mother. The daughter meanwhile is transfixed by the pictures in her house, a majority of which are her dead brothers. Her mom finally breaks and plans to run away, leaving everything behind. She says she'd rather be no mom than a bad mom, and takes away all the pictures, removing her daughter's memories. The kid has to deal with all of this, and the growing discomfort he feels since he is working with the writer on a daily basis while banging his wife and driving him to his screw sessions. It's really quite complicated, but the movie does a good job of making it easy to understand.

Kim Basinger: "....sex. All kids your age are interested in it, right?"
Kid: "Yeah. Before I die."

Elle Fanning: "Your penis looks funny."

Elle Fanning, on seeing kid and mother doing it doggy-style: "Aaaaah!!!!"
Kim Basinger: "It's OK. It's only us. Go back to bed."
Elle, with shrug and smile: "Okay!"

I'm assuming John Irving has a lot to say about sex-related problems in the family. Because there's lots of it.

JULY 25, 2004

Today, I can proudly say that I did absolutely nothing. Ate popsicles. Paid my rent. Looked out the window. Played some games. Watched some TV. Talked on the phone a bit. Made plans for later. But all in all, I spent a majority of the afternoon watching Futurama and eating those devilishly good soft chocolate chip cookies from Chips Ahoy. So sweet, and so good. Oh, I also decided to go see Lang Lang on Wednesday; Bobby McFerrin on Thursday; Musiq on August 7; and Bebel Gilberto on August 14. Tickets for all four together will cost roughly 57 dollars. Do I want to spend that much money? Or, I could just not go and save up for more New York trips, which I dearly love.

What I did think about were ideas for articles during my beat. Yes, I do have the technology and research beat, but I feel it's very limited in its scope, right now. The true science stories don't get covered, especially because the "medical" beat mainly goes for infrastructure problem stories about the University Health system and the Hospital. What I want to do is yes, cover downloading-related stories, but curtail how much print is spent on that, since I feel we've had an overkill on that kind of thing in the past year. No one cares so much about Napster and other legally viable options for music downloads. What they do care about are ways around the system, an area that the DP cannot cover in true fashion without being held publicly accountable. My main point is that I will cover more Research-related topics - cutting to the heart of the science done at Penn.

One area in need of coverage are the technological innovations discovered at Penn. Frequently, these are assigned to GAs after the inventions or what have you have already become widely available, so the stories are less timely. What I want to do is get more of these things out under the beat so there is more educated coverage on time. I presume that many of these technologies will be from Penn Engineering, whether bio-engineering or normal engineering. This can include Penn work with nanotechnology (and how it deals with the McCain supported decision that prohibits federal funding to any nanotech research), virus creation (especially dealing with the newly created cellphone viruses, passed with Blackberry technology), flash memory cards, new incredibly fast disk drives using the principle of "extraordinary magnetoresistance", robotics at Penn, SCO Group and the Linux controversy, video game development, identity protection protocols and technologies, and even Penn contributions to forensic science, which could be a very interesting subject.

There is also the more social-science based aspects of research. These will probably be reserved for longer articles and features, as they can't be accurately captured in a short article. Actually, these would probably do better in a magazine format (like NYTimes Magazine). Sample issues include the effects of immigration policies on scientific research within the United States. This ties in with the gradual decrease in science and math literacy in the United States, the large foreign population manning the helm at research labs all across the country, and the "brain drain" from their home countries. This had a notable effect on Canada in the past few years. In particular, the move of health professionals across the border due to oppressive OHIP and blanket medical insurance programs has caused lots of trouble to an ailing system, and to research that needs to be continued at major universities there. This can include, or as a separate article, the effects of war-time immigration policies that constitute institutional xenophobia. As defensive measures to terrorism, limited immigration and draconian customs policies have decreased the manpower available for key scientific research. Many scientists (and even writers, for some strange reason) have been scared off by the oppressive rules governing access by student visa. Especially sensitive areas like vaccine creation and scientific countermeasures for bioterrorism have been hampered because there are no faculty available to work in those areas. A majority of the experts in those areas had been foreign, and current regulations prohibit nationals from certain countries from working on those areas, in fear of espionage and sabotage, etc. This points to a severe problem in science recruitment and education within America, as we do not have the manpower to facilitate our science labs, which are the best in the world.

Other issues include the effect of high-tech outsourcing on higher level science education in the United States. Also, American policy on AIDS treatments and distribution of drugs into the Third World, as necessary to combat the global crisis. Another interesting idea would track legal decisions involving science - a check to see if law is lagging behind scientific progress, and if this is bad for research as a whole. As a sidenote, I am particularly interested in gene patenting. Ever since it was allowed in the 1990s, there have been lawsuits concerning companies and foundations who hold patents for genes, and scientists from business and academia alike who seek to work on these genes without profit oversight. The Patent and Trademark Office reversed its old policy of not allowing live animals and genes that regulate life to be patented - this violated previous human concern of the ethics of business. But somehow, that was turned around in the groundbreaking Chakrabarty case and today, big drug companies own many of the genes that make us who we are. An Australian drug company owns much of the sequences of "junk DNA" in the human body, that are now being found to be extremely important. This has been the focus of many furious lawsuits. As some universities who hold or could potentially hold patents have been involved in some of these cases, science students at Penn should be concerned. It would also be interesting for the economic and ethical aspects to the struggle.

Other interesting social issues for the beat include: email bankruptcy (how do we deal with communication when email itself can be swamped and take too much time?); the myth of the paperless office (and how email causes an average 40% increase in paper consumption); the Small World phenomenon; how, with the widespread use of computers, reading is way down in America, as is going to museums, musical performances, doing volunteer work, and going to sporting events (another way of saying this is that people who don't use computers go out more, and people who do tend to do nothing else but sit at their computers); Intelligent Design theory; problems for the coming election with paperless voting (voting by Internet); the radio frequency id chip (RFID) for use in supermarket products for streamlined shopping; sustainable design in architecture and house planning; profiles of recent Internet frauds and viruses; Kevin Fong's research into treatment of intensive care patients with space conditions; what Dream Workshop (choose your own dream) will do to the sacred nature of the dream in the sleep state; and copyright renewals (National Library wanted to do a showcase on James Joyce, as they owned the works - but his grandson owned the copyright... the 50 year limitation on copyright had already ran out, but the founding of the EU extended these copyrights, such that the National Library would be in fact violating the copyright if they did a show which by all means should have been fine and legal) and what Ashcroft legislation will do to it (this has its technological and research aspect). Lastly, a review of what Gutmann plans to do with funding for research, like the coverage of J-Ro's Agenda for Excellence.

Whew, it's a lot of stuff I could cover. Productive think session. But now, it's time to give it a rest and go veg out before work tomorrow.

JULY 24, 2004

Sitting at home. Wondering what to do. Hearing Wes out the window. Hearing somebody say, "shut up, Wes!" Hearing Elvis in a remix of "A Little More Action" or whatever the song is called.

Arrgggh, it's past midnight, and I'm wondering what to do. I could go out, but it's kind of pointless since i'm all settled in and comfy at home. But then I ask myself, do I really need to go out? No! I've had the best day, and that's that. It really has been great. To recap. Went to see Bourne Supremacy with Rachel on Friday. Great movie. Uses shaky shots to establish feeling that we're right there, and action is really tight. No wasted moves, like Ebert points out. The dialogue is sparse and to the point, and the feel is like what the spy world really is. OK, so maybe I wouldn't know. But it's a lot more sophisticated in its unpretentiousness. Other spy movies make it so overt and glamorous, while Bourne (Damon) seems to pay a heavy price, both in people he loses and how it changes his actions. A murder in the middle particularly affects me, and the audience. Unlike other movies, where guys simply get shot and no one cares, there is a feeling that a life is disappearing, right there, as Bourne chokes a fellow Treadstone agent to death with some fiber wire. All the action is tight, etc.

Rachel likes it, as far as I can tell. She's applying for salesperson jobs, as well as stewardess positions with Southwest. Also in biology labs and other things around campus. She's also looking for a place to stay, and I show her my place to help her get a feel for rooms in other areas around Penn. We go to her place, only a couple doors down from Molly. It's really her sister's, and she's only staying while she's in town. Until she gets another place, that is. It's really hot, and we talk a long time about Asian perceptions of health and some other things which I liked to talk about. Yeah, I ramble sometimes. Anyway, it's 2 AM and her sister walks in, like, WTF? Her sister works at Marathon during the day. Something like 7 an hour or so, as a hostess. Damn, that's a lot of work. I get a little less at the Vault for doing jack.

Jen Malivuk was here this past weekend. Today, I went out with her for lunch at Marathon Grill. Howreya's all around to Maribel (she remembers me after a year? i like to think i made a good first impression then.), Gizelle(y) and Amanda, who is still as ridiculous as the last time I saw her. Maybe back in December? It's been a while, anyway. I figured out why I missed having Jenny around - probably because she's so good at making her presence known when she is here. All of a sudden, when she's gone, there's nobody to manically say, "it's ok" at the least sign of weariness. I get home from work and talk to her and she's like, "it's ok" automatically. I'm like, geez, almost like a broken record here. But comforting, I guess. So I pay the bill for lunch/brunch, yeah yeah, but I work and she don't. She threatens to beat me up (like she did ALL last summer) and tries to force the money back. Her guilt trip is a big hug. Ha. I am impervious.

Brenna calls! I love hearing her messages. They're so... giggly and unassuming. Really cute, if you ask me. Anyway, it's kind of disconcerting to have her answering machine say "my..." which I assume is a cut-off of the actual message that's supposed to play. Every time I call back I suspect it's not her phone, but then she calls me later and says I got your message, etc. She wasn't there. I am crushed. Hehe. Cause last time we played phone tag, I missed out on Coney Island and afternoon delite. Arr. I almost went down to New York this afternoon, but I held myself back. Stupid rent payments. And I think she had that one party? I dunno.

Went to see The Corporation this afternoon with Grace and friend Liz. The movie seemed biased - the corporation is a profit machine that kills everything in its path - but then again, it's hard to portray any other side. An executive for the company would be hard-pressed to say that the company doesn't put profits first, and actually believe it. More likely that they would agree. Knowing that, the movie uses Howard Zinn, Noam Chomsky, Michael Moore, Naomi Klein and others to put forth a distinctly liberal point of view. Even the right-wing opinions are centrist, as I'm sure it would be hard to find a fanatical right-winger that would vilify the corporation on the record. Typical arguments: corporations are killing the world. But even as they are typical, they are still engaging and worrisome. Especially the reminder that all our genes are being gradually patented. All of them. What happens when a corporation owns the right to all the things that make a person a person? Then what? We have a very bad track record on sharing things too. Wealth means hoarding for one's own security. If that were to happen with ownership of gene "property", that would be a very bad thing.

Dinner at Abner's, then home for another round of XIII and updating the web page. Taking it easy, and looking up some stuff to use in my Nursing and Kerry-Edwards rally piece for this week.

JULY 23, 2004

Pimpification:

from Playerappreciate.com:

One of the things most hype about being an elevated player is having a name that mothafuckas respect. It's that one thing that punks who don't have your money always remember to yell while you're beating them down. "No ! Please don't beat me down ! I left my money in my other pants !" See what I mean?

Byron Kho becomes:
Sheik Kho G.
Deacon Dr. B. Gates
Diamondtrim Kho Squeeze
Tricktickler Byron Slither
Ice Master Byron Trump
Dopetastic B. Flex
Devious Honey Byron Ice

And various other people become :
Crazy Eyes B. Squeeze
Sweet Chocolate Mal Flava
Devious Kelly Smooth
Master Fly Petrilla Loco

And there are... hmm... tips on how to pimp-slap some little punkass, who don't realize where his ice comin from, and to mess with these mothas don't go down smooth with the j-loc.

feign interest (or disinterest); a nasty backhand; drink some champagne.
if you got soft skin, or they hurt like a mutha, you ain't a pimp.

probably made by some silly white guy.

Some more politics:

I was reading a particularly informative article by Howard Kurtz in the Washington Post today (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A7573-2004Jul22.html) about the positive spin ads that the Kerry campaign is putting out. Knowing that the Bush media campaign was mostly negative attacks on Kerry (up to 75%!!), it's surprising that the Kerry campaign can still sit tight on it's I'm-a-good-guy and don't-listen-to-him message. Bush's campaign says the negative spin is 1) effective in portraying him as a flip-flop and 2) Kerry can wax moralistic in this race because he has his little buddies MoveOn and the Media Fund to do the dirty work. Which is true, I guess. But here's the kicker: Bush has everything to lose, while Kerry has nothing to lose. And who's the one playing dirty?

A memorable quote from Kathleen Hall Jamieson, dean of the Annenberg Public Policy Center:

"They don't have to attack the credibility of George Bush," Jamieson said. "The news has effectively done that already."

It also doesn't help the Republican campaign that Kerry is raising his profile among black Americans (and other minorities) - who can swing the vote in his favor (and who blatantly supported Gore in those harrowing moments when Gore himself was presiding over the swearing-in of the president) - while Bush has downgraded or lost that ability completely by refusing to talk to the NAACP. He said he got made fun of once, he's not going through it again. What was that quote, Mr. President? Fool me once... What we have here is a coward - no matter if he is one or not - he just really looks like it, when he's preaching his "got backbone?" campaign rhetoric.

some more political analysis - but this time an update on some old views:

This was from way back in last summer, after the second invasion of Iraq. Things have changed a little, but I still think it shows how I feel about the_whole_thing. my little editorial

When you say that patriotism has in some way turned into discrimination, backlash and extremely limited freedom of thought and expression, you are very right. Especially in smaller towns, where the generally lower international exposure and education make the population vulnerable to an ignorance of global politics, one must not only be a patriot but a follower in herd politics. The party affiliations in small towns are much stronger - people vote on party lines religiously and the views of on-high are viewed as just that, on-high. Since many in my area are Republican, it is a very dangerous thing to be very visibly pro-Democrat, because there are vicious smear campaigns and social silences toward the "victim". Bush, naturally, is in supreme standing and is not one to be argued with; if he says a war is necessary to keep mom and pops safe with a chicken in every pot and a car in every driveway, then a war must be necessary. There is no room for disagreement for a disagreement means a break with the majority, and why should you know any better than a whole townful of Americans (with emphasis on the "American")? In a place where you must be crazy to act Arab in public (the hicks get all riled up and call you sand niggers and saddam lovers and baby killers) and being French means that all you'll get is a wedgie while everyone forgets who supported them in their own struggle for independence way back when. And why should you question the government, whose every action is to protect our own American citizens? Who hides under the recently passed Official Secrets Act and now locks up presidential records "indefinitely" instead of just for 2 decades, for the purposes of national security? Who interferes in countries where it shouldn't - Latin American overthrows (contras, Sandinistas), African barriers to Communism (Cold War, Afghanistan), Vietnam (as morale boosting easy war) - and then determines that for its own "security", it must continue? Who chooses not to interfere in places where it should on the basis that the people can decide what they want to do with themselves - Rwanda, Liberia (where 2300 Americans wait off the coast watching the Liberians slowly get massacred off)? Who created a very illegal extensive satellite system to spy on all North American communications and then ignore the information it received and allowed 9/11 to happen? Who wasn't afraid of ridiculing its supposed allies and the UN and then suddenly requests the UN's help after shaming it, and blacking out 28 pages of a document to protect all those supposed "allies"? Whose largest ally suspiciously plugged a leak by "finding" the dead body of the chief researcher who signed off on findings of WMD's in Iraq? From history, we learn that this patriotism is a vicious cycle. In times of danger, it is necessary to suppress freedom of thought and expression and promote a patriotism (sometimes morally repugnant) that will keep the country together and support its army to save itself - Germany with National Socialism, Russia in its revolutions, Christian Europe defending and attacking against Muslim Arabia. Seen from a larger picture, it is absolutely necessary from a political standpoint. While that is true, the individual freedoms that are supported in words by the American Constitution would be against that style of political rule; if we were to rebel and ask for our rights during times of crisis - such as during Afghanistan or Gulf War II - I am sure military tribunals, sedition laws and "national security" would be banded around like candy, because in the end, that is politically necessary for national survival as a power in the global checkerboard. So, while frustration is adamant and anger runs rampant, remember that survival is about adaptation, and tricky maneuvers. Global politics and power struggle requires that the nation have certain attitudes, and while we might suffer now, it is necessary in the long run. To fix our situation, though it will be very tricky, all one would have to do is save face and rebuild all by finding a scapegoat, blaming it on the scapegoat and then ridding oneself of the scapegoat. In this case, President Bush would be the scapegoat - but in reality, he is not to blame. It is only our past history, past attitudes and past image of ourselves within the grand scheme of things that forced him to act such and thus reinforce the herd mentality of our fellow Americans. So, accept, adapt and fight for what you believe in - because only then can we change the vicious cycle that is our fate and our history.

restaurants i need to chill at before i leave this town:

so making a list is probably a bad idea, because going out should be spontaneous. right? whatever. i have a list, and it's gonna get updated as i go along. tangerine. fork. the continental, for dinner. bleu martini. caribou cafe. jones. rx. buddakan. novelty. patou. susanna foo's. magazine (again). loie. el vez. brasserie perrier (overpriced, but whatever). bistro st. tropez. alma de cuba. bar noir. beau monde. angelina. (edit: most of these places, done)

my fave area right now is the stretch of spruce heading down into old city. there's some piano bar back there that i forget the name of, it's pretty cool. there's a bunch of nice bistro-y places, and dmitri's and angelina's are not too far away. plus, the houses are kinda cool.

JULY 22, 2004

the political post:

brief word on rich eisenberg's op-ed in this week's DP: eisenberg outlines the bush camp policy of referring to kerry as a negative-slanted "liberal" and "flip-flop". while it is marginally true that kerry did flip-flop - and miss out on 80% of voting sessions - there is less reason there to vote for bush than for kerry. after alll, what exactly is wrong with being liberal? does liberal signify wishy-washy and touchy-feely (all two-word hyphenated cute words that minimalize left-wing efforts to improve human welfare through governmental intervention)? but more importantly, does bush's method of sticking to his roots and sticking to his guns bode well for our country? bush is a man who has set beliefs - he keeps faith with himself, his religion and his country. this is admirable in a man (though we might call him stupid, etc.). but who is to say that america needs stubbornness to this degree? yes, we need to present a firm face to the world. but being stubborn along the wrong path is a likely path to failure. pretending nothing is wrong with the ship while it sinks doesn't do anything for the captain or crew; admitting a mistake but being firm about change is. kerry, while certainly irresponsible and in the best of times only a mediocre candidate, is a much better gauge of the american public today. he is more cautious - what we need to heal wounds after "winning" a war, though not what we need during said war - and more open to the various opinions making up his constituency, as evidenced by his large advisory team. so there we have it.

one more aspect of the presidential race issue: media campaigning. currently, scandals are much closer to the surface among bush's compadres, while kerry's campaign seems much more clean, and proabbly more bland. at the same time, the bush campaign has made this season the most expensive media campaigning season to date, with mostly out-of-pocket funds. both candidates have had no problem funding their campaigns this term, with no need to dig into the public coffers. the focus of the bush campaigns? negative spin on kerry's character. comparatively, bush media ads, from their camp and from outside organizations, have been extremely vilifying in their rhetoric; kerry has spent more money on the issues. of course, it's very hard to get proper issues explained in a 30-second soundbite, but at least the attempt is there. it's strange about politics. they have to rise to two standards: the media, by selling their "product", and the honor of the profession, by extolling their "purity." kerry might just be holding his own campaign down (and poll popularity) by going the honorable path, while bush scores big points on the i'm-better-than-him media path. very soon, however, i'm sure we'll see kerry jump back on the bandwagon, and pull out the big guns on bush.

ads this season: all about adolf. an entry into the liberal organization Move-On's campaign-for-Kerry contest compared bush to hitler. this ad was never recognized by MoveOn or the Dem campaing after that, but a subsequent Republican ad ran something like this -- Dems are playing dirty by comparing us to Hitler. So we'll show you the ad that they didn't actually support, by showing clips of it in our ad, and implicitly continue the vicious cycle.

yay for partisanship. continue the age-old tradition of rousing paranoid fears and anger and spreading that to the population, thereby creating polarization and increasingly interesting presidential races. news as it comes...

A somewhat paranoid yet persuasive review of the movie slash opinion piece on the political situation by this guy. If it counts at all, he's from Pittsburgh.

"A conservative group asked [the FEC] to investigate whether television ads for director Michael Moore’s anti-Bush documentary “Fahrenheit 9/11” violate campaign finance law regulating when commercials may feature a presidential candidate...the group...contended that commercials for “Fahrenheit 9/11” fall under federal campaign finance law. Regulations prohibit the use of corporate money to air ads identifying a presidential candidate in the 30 days before his party’s nominating convention...they contend that “Fahrenheit 9/11” is propaganda and doesn’t qualify for the media exemption." - Associated Press; June 24, 2004

Byron: more misguided conservative attempts to keep f9/11 out of the theater? yes. you're just giving the left more firepower against you, and giving the film more buzz. time for some credible defense rather than pointless vengeful behavior.

Vik: Agreed. In my opinion, the best chance for conservatives to nullify the effect of this movie is to simply ignore it rather than condemn it. It is very difficult to attack the entertainment industry on moral grounds and succeed (in fact, criticism will probably only increase curiosity and viewership; look at The Passion of the Christ.) I, for one, plan to see Fahrenheit 911 on Saturday and support a message that will hopefully becoming a rallying cry for Democrats around the country. To the conservatives out there, all you can do is pray that the movie will suck.

Kneeland: Looks like my prayers have been answered. The movie is an utter embarassment to the Left. Did you know that Mr. Moore had to hire a giant team of lawyers to file libel suits against anyone who dares to question the accuracy of his movie?

Bruce: Whether or not you agree with Moore, you should acknowledge the blatant lying and viewer manipulation of his past films. For example, in "Bowling for Columbine" he spliced words from seven different places to form one sentence of a speech by Charlton Heston (he also spliced two rallies that were months apart, giving the impression that they were the same).

That is but a minor example of wave after wave of deceit in his Oscar-winning "documentary." He also used inconsistent data and simply lied, later admitting his deception.

His next film will undoubtedly be the same. Why would you want to support a message that is baseless propaganda? If you want to vote against Bush, I have no problem with that. If you want to engage in debate, or get every Democrat in Philly to vote this fall, I'm cool with that too. But why perpetuate our culture's naïve dependency on the media by supporting one of its worst offenders?

Byron: I must say I do find wrong in some of Moore's tactics - some of which are in recent evidence. He displayed Disney as trying to destroy his film without advance warning, when he actually knew for an entire year and later admitted as much. I understand he twists and manipulates his viewers. But I am my own person. Though the guy in question be a lying bastard (both Moore and Bush could fall under that category, depending on who you talk to), I can hear what they say without naively believing that everything is true. Though some of the public are so-called "dumb", I don't believe most people will think it's totally unbiased. At least most of the educated masses shouldn't.

And yes - though it's going to be full of some propaganda, it's not "baseless propaganda", because there are facts, and there are facts, and I'm sure he's double and triple-checked all his words to make sure they're right or he'll be sued for libel, especially with the entire right-wing on his ass. This time around, I'm sure he's worried about it.

You also address our culture's "naïve dependency on the media". Unfortunately, we have no other way of getting to the masses. I respect the fact that he is willing to put himself out on a limb despite all the criticism he has and undoubtedly will receive; it's a freedom he is allowed, to express himself. (and god help us: that such "scum" be able to express himself? He's not killing babies or advocating racial hatred for chrissake.) If you're not willing to allow him this freedom, that's not a good sign.

On the other hand, if one doesn't like the messages being broadcast by Moore, then one should utilize this "naïve dependency on the media" against him and make a movie, or sound-bite, or best-selling book. Gather the right-wing opinionators together and use the media to right-wing advantage, not by attacking his person, catching him out on silly laws that will actually turn against the advocacy groups supporting the lawsuits, or denying the leftist schtick as a pack of lies. Undoubtedly there will be some lies said by the left (my side, pretty much), but one would be howling in the wind unless Republicans can gather an actual intellectual defense and a credible offense. Or they can play on Michael Moore's field: get Rush Limbaugh to make his own movie. He is articulate and intelligent enough, and does a good job of rousing the conservative masses with his own version of fire-brand propaganda.

Mark Littmann (in the Summer Pennsylvanian): "So Moore was a winner, right? Unfortunately, his victory was, in disguise, a mockery of not just the current administration but also America as a whole."

Byron: Now hold on there. I have to bring up another point brought up in the article - how he feels that Moore isn't a proper representative for America. But when is the filmmaker, documentary person, interviewer, journalist... when are these guys supposed to be the representative of their entire America? Does he really expect it to be an entirely neutral documentary? Of course he will attack Bush and the current administration in the movie, because those are his politics, and people make movies according to their beliefs and politics (this script is great, i feel for the characters... i feel for the american people, etc.) He quotes Moore as stating that he is in the majority opinion. This could possibly be true, in a sketchy propagandist kind of way. Opinion polls show Bush's approval to be nearly 50-50 between good and bad. Liberal, conservative. However, there are a significant amount of undecided and moderate conservatives that have seemed to back up from their support. Even among the old guard, there is a feeling of reversing course. It can't be good that disaster after disaster has hit this administration (S&L, Halliburton, Texas oil, possible trouble with their number one Arab ally Saudi Arabia, lying in front of America).

Jack (a forum posting on Littman's article): "Moore reminds me of his Republican counterpart: Rush Limbaugh. He does the same thing, saying things that are clearly biased. I guess the only difference would be the Rush actually knows what he's talking about."

Byron: Um, no.

Alum (a forum posting on Littman's article): "By actually going to see the movie, one would, in fact, be supporting Michael Moore and all that he stands for (and probably helping him increase donations to all anti-Bush campaigns). I support the author in not going to see this. It's truly a shame how uneducated the American public has become."

Byron: Is it me, or is seeing the movie just that? Seeing? As in "seeing what the other side has to say"? Uneducated doesn't mean ignoring the other side, even the propagandists. To fight and win, they say, you must know your enemy. Keeping yourself ignorant of the situation as understood by an influential liberal that can only spread his views to the Democratic-leaning populace (according to MSNBC and YahooNews and CNN, theaters are doing very well indeed off of this movie, even with the death threats and bribery and intense pressure put on by Republican organizations toward theater managers... why else would 3 national chains not show a movie that - by all standards - will be one of the highest-grossing movies ever?) is stupid indeed. Smart man, Sun Tzu. Know your enemy.

Sean Lee (a forum posting on Littman's article): "President Bush is winning World War 3. He has given millions of people freedom from oppression in Afghanistan and Iraq." Byron: We are not fighting World War III, however much you'd like to think so. And as for millions of people? We created the problems in Afghanistan and Iraq to begin with. Yes, I would say it was our responsibility to fix the mess. However, we didn't do very well. We let up to 40,000 Afghans with their AK-47s return home when we pulled our Special Forces out of there to go fight in Iraq, before the cleanup job in Afghanistan was finished. We missed bin Laden, though we got many deputies, and the organization is still thriving. The Saudis, our close ally, supports some of these terrorist movements (follow the money). Iraq is no better now than it was under Saddam. Yes, he was bad to them, but at least there was an infrastructure, less hatred and peace. I must say that things ARE better for the Kurds, though. They are the only probable people to benefit. Now, we are hated for our occupation, infrastructure is going to hell, and we hire Iraqi to kill other Iraqis. Who shoot us because they hate.

And STOP lambasting France. It is NOT unpatriotic to support free choice, and it is NOT unsupportive of democracy, freedom, etc. to choose not to get involved with a war which has turned out to be all that the naysayers had hoped for. There were very good reasons for them to choose to do so, and to follow a suicidal course just because the United States said so is no reason to do anything. Remember, France gave us support for our experiment in democracy. Even as we think ourselves beacons of democracy, we should be aware that we don't always appear so. We have lied and threatened other countries; we have meddled and caused millions of deaths by activity and inactivity in other countries; and we have stood in the way of peace (not paying dues to the UN?).

"In a BBC interview, Mr Powell said those who carried out the attacks were trying to torpedo the handover. 'I think we underestimated the nature of the insurgency that we might face during this period,' he said. 'The insurgency that we're looking at now has become a serious problem for us, but it's a problem that we will deal with.' But he said he hoped violence would tail off after the handover - once Iraqis saw that they had their own people in charge. 'I'm absolutely sure that the world is a safer place with Saddam Hussein and that regime gone,' he said. 'Now, does that mean that everything has become peaceful and nice? No. We have a difficult situation in Iraq. And we will deal with that difficult situation. We will get security under control.'" - BBC; June 24, 2004

Here's the war as I see it. We invaded Iraq on the pretext that we were fighting terrorism. So far, there has been no link to bin Laden and Al Qaeda within Saddam Hussein's realm, and neither has there been any WMD's for us to find. Thus, we are occupying the second most holy site in all of Islam (within Iraq) for reasons that are entirely moot. Not only that, but we control the other two holiest sites in Islam, albeit indirectly - Saudi Arabia is seen as an American lapdog, and Israel is in eternal cahoots with the West. The Muslim world cannot be happy about this, and so now, where Al-Qaeda hadn't existed, they now do. From a country we were liberating, we now have a country that does not want to be liberated; peoples that kill our soldiers after they have been "saved"; and an enemy that grows more reckless every day. The executions only tell us that they are more resilient than we thought. So what are we to do? Are we to dally in a country where rule is breaking down and the enemy grows larger every day? I am a liberal, but I don't vote for peace in this case. I feel like the military should use its capacity as the best army in the world, and crush the insurgents with all the military might they can muster. It's a cruel world, but our position is gradually leaking away.

stuff that happens:

whew - haven't posted in forever... but this gray shit's gotta go. make it pretty and stuff. all in good time.

but here's this week: emailed assad - saturday in ny - anchorman - guy at city hall park - asian pimp - r train rerouted to canal st. - ooh, brooklyn - ooh, brenna's place, ring ring, ring - big house, gotta say - hot room - she's all pretty and stuff, and we're only goin to b-burg! - jazz - mex - middle east, mosquitoes and skirting around the main - sad, leaving - ishtar shteve - matchmaker with cousin hahaha - miserable shopping in rain - anthony in tulsa, too late - bad day for work - ooh, hot date for two? - b&j with grace - schmooze with article man - write, write - chill with wendy - de-lovely, anyone? - j-mal's coming! ah-ha! - ooh, melody says - dave: haven't cracked the covers - adam: (annoyed grunt) - molly and liz won't let me be lazy, silly editors - late for work - oh, hey gizelle! you're looking fine today - what? oh no, no, i said, you fine today. yeah. wait, damn. - sharma is the new jackass, and he's got the older women thing. got my own back on this one hahaha - contemplating lunch - contemplating fun times with j-mal (j. fresh? nice.)

that's it.

more old stuff that needs to stay up:

She: yeppers
bmk j a c k: haha, you say "yeppers" and "okey dokey"
bmk j a c k: you're classic
She: thanks
bmk j a c k: call it like i see it

And now, foreign movies...

Him: just rented a movie titled "Ran" do you know that one?
Him: it's one by Akira Kurosawa
bmk j a c k: no...actually, i realyl havent watched too much kurosawa at al
Him: i see
Him: he is a good director
Him: I recommend his works.
bmk j a c k: ill watch some time
bmk j a c k: i was gonna go to video library
bmk j a c k: but it was 1101
bmk j a c k: at the time...it jsut closed
Him: also there is a movie titled sea by see
Him: Regarde la mer (1997)
Him: that's the title
Him: translated as "See the Sea"
Him: 55 min. long French horror movie.
Him: incredibly effective with camera angles
Him: no background music whatsoever, just the visuals to scare you
bmk j a c k: i know one of the video stores downtown has TONS of stuff
bmk j a c k: foreign stuff i mean
Him: Francois Ozon....an interesting French director
Him: See the Sea is definitely interesting.
Him: short and effective was my impression
bmk j a c k: oh ive heard of ozon actually
Him: he is the one who directed "Swimming Pool"
Him: which, I am sure, is being played in Ritz theaters
bmk j a c k: i heard his previous ones were much better
Him: really?
Him: 8 Femme?
Him: Under the Sand...etc etc
Him: they are all interesting
bmk j a c k: havent watched them.... i was trying to watch a lot of the better foreign films
bmk j a c k: but i could only keep that up until may
bmk j a c k: then i had less and less time
Him: yeah...well, it's summer.
bmk j a c k: true - and i spend the time i have at the pool or the beach
bmk j a c k: haha
Him: good time to check out movies that are interesting
Him: hahaha
Him: although, my cinematic sensibilities may be different from yours
bmk j a c k: true - but i enjoy a lot of those foreign films
Him: I devour all types of cinema, but, I have a thing for foreign films
bmk j a c k: i watch a lot of dramas
Him: yeah..they are cool
bmk j a c k: and ive found the foreign dramas are usually a little better
Him: yeah
Him: Well, just to list a couple of movies I have seen over the years (foreign ones)
Him: Il Postino
bmk j a c k: good one
Him: A Taste of Cherry, by Abbas Kiarostami
Him: Cinema Paradiso, by Giuseppe Tornadore
bmk j a c k: oh i relaly want to see that last one
bmk j a c k: i saw it in video library last nite
Him: Breaking the Waves, by Lars Von Trier
bmk j a c k: and wanted to rent it
Him: yeah..that movie's good
Him: one of the best foreign films
Him: Lola Rennt, by Tom Tykwer
Him: All About My Mother, Talk to Her, High Heels, Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, by Pedro Almodovar
Him: and yes....
Him: Abre los ojos, by Alejandro Amenabar
bmk j a c k: i saw Talk to Her
Him: and Y Tu Mama Tambien, by Alfonso Cuaron
Him: yeah...Talk to her was somewhat disturbing
Him: kinda freaky, actually
bmk j a c k: it was kinda strange...after it was over, we just sat for 5 minutes in silence being like...what the hell?
bmk j a c k: i have to see y mama tu tambien some time
Him: it's good
Him: the thing about foreign films is
Him: they are refreshingly free from stereotypes...of all kinds.
Him: very open spirit
Him: even when they portray stereotypes, they are not forced
bmk j a c k: and the things that happen aren't Hollywood or even compromises witht eh Hollywood spirit
Him: most American films have set-formula
Him: yes
Him: I mean, for instance....think of ten movies that came out big on box office this year
Him: mostly super-hero movies, where the triumph of the good is a very likely outcome
Him: they are mostly eye candies...which I don't mind, actually.
Him: since I see all kinds of films
bmk j a c k: when i want eye candy i go, expecting eye candy
Him: but....foreign films are different
bmk j a c k: yeah
Him: Finding Nemo was good, though.
Him: so was.....Matrix Reloaded?
Him: they better make that sequal and LOTR sequal good, because if they don't
Him: I will be so angry
bmk j a c k: i KNOW
bmk j a c k: haha i was aware you like matrix reloaded a lot
Him: oh
Him: just curious to see what happens next, that's all
bmk j a c k: im really interested too
Him: I believe in the layered virtual reality theory
bmk j a c k: LOTR was really good
Him: some people believe in simple super-hero theory, though
Him: so we will see what happens next.
Him: yes
Him: and it will get better
bmk j a c k: but it's only a one time watch
Him: have you read the book?
bmk j a c k: i watched it again and lost allt he charm
bmk j a c k: yeah
Him: yeah...definitely
Him: I tried to watch Two Towers again..and
Him: I just couldn't watch it
Him: several times it was ok
Him: but then after fifth time
bmk j a c k: haha 5th time?
Him: it started to be oddly uninteresting
Him: yes
Him: so..that would be more like 8th time
Him: because I watched it three times in theaters
Him: I mean..movies like Office Space or Big Lebowski
Him: you can watch it over and over and over again and still not be bored by them.
bmk j a c k: haha, yeah
bmk j a c k: i need to buy big lebowksi some time
Him: good movie
Him: "Do you like sex?"
Him: have you seen that one? Big Lebowski?
bmk j a c k: yeah ive seen it
bmk j a c k: its hilarious
bmk j a c k: but the last tiem was 8 months ago
Him: it's oddly funny. not the best Cohen brothers movie...but
Him: it has that weird charm.
bmk j a c k: the weird lasting charm
Him: I miss having it on my comp. I erased it sometime ago.
Him: yes
Him: Cohen Brothers...they are awesome
Him: I haven't seen their recent efforts, though...
Him: Barton Fink, Oh Brother Where Art Thou? Fargo...
bmk j a c k: fargo was great
bmk j a c k: but def not the same movie that big lebowski was
bmk j a c k: isnt it the Coen bros, not Cohen?
Him: yes
Him: Ethan and Joel
bmk j a c k: did you see the Man who Wasn't There?
Him: oops...Coen. not Cohen.
Him: also Hudsucker Proxy and Raising Arizona
Him: their good works....I stopped watching their movies since Man Who Wasn't There..which I thought was boring.
bmk j a c k: i liked that one actually
Him: oh
Him: yeah it was still a good movie
Him: but compared to other ones, little slow
bmk j a c k: it was, but im used to slow
bmk j a c k: dramas are always slow
Him: speaking of good directors..
Him: Francis Ford Coppola
Him: have you seen Apocalypse Now or the Conversation?
Him: the latter is not well-known to people, but...it's a splendid movie.
Him: splendid was not a good word....excellent movie
bmk j a c k: back....my housemates came back, and now theyre goin out AGAIN
bmk j a c k: have seen first half of apocalypse now
bmk j a c k: it was pretty good
bmk j a c k: but havent got the energy to see the whole thing
bmk j a c k: but have not heard of or seen the Conversation

CD: That's Every Word I Said

All-American Rejects - Swing Swing
Phantom Planet - Recently Distressed
Good Charlotte - Boys and Girls
Yellowcard - Cigarette
Better Than Ezra - I Do
Ataris - I'll Remember You
Phantom Planet - Anthem
Verve Pipe - Never Let You Down
Count the Stars - Taking It All Back
Better Than Ezra - Misunderstood
Offspring - The Kids Ain't Alright
All-American Rejects - Cigarette Song
Ataris - My So-Called Life
New Pornographers - The New Face of Zero and One
Phantom Planet - So I Fall Again
New Found Glory - Dressed to Kill
Eels - Saturday Morning
Yellowcard - Rough Draft
Matchbox 20 - Last Beautiful Girl
MXPX - Chick Magnet
Yellowcard - Star Struck
All-American Rejects - Last Song

Her: hey dude, i saw a funny license plate today, in a parking lot, as i was picking up my brother. it was a car goin realllly slow and it had a donut tire in the back, of course, and the license said "OY VAAAY"
bmk j a c k: haha thats great
bmk j a c k: stole my idea
...
bmk j a c k: than there was me, romantic mood lighting, soft crooning coming from my speakers and the sexy smiles on the anatomical models in my MCAT book
bmk j a c k: and why did barry white have to die
bmk j a c k: ?
Her: hahaha
Her: well it happens
Her: even the sexy die
goin to see jason mraz with liz phair and sondra lerche on the 12th...his song "the remedy (i won't worry)"

Her: the remedy reminds of a somewhat black rapper
Her: and sleep all day is very jazzy
Her: don't you think?
bmk j a c k: jazzy is not quite the right word
bmk j a c k: and your black rapper? um...
...
bmk j a c k: dld I Do
bmk j a c k: SO good
Her: okay
bmk j a c k: "someone out there's listening to the same song, feeling the same way that I do...."
Her: okay listening to I Do now
bmk j a c k: and?
Her: oh I like this
Her: I like I like!
Her: make me a believer
Her: pick up the receiver
Her: tell me you feel just liek I d
Her: o
Her: I do
Her: lol
Her: z

another strange guy convo

Him: quick question about my bitch...
bmk j a c k: about your bitch...haha, ok, shoot
...
Him: i know guys and girls are oftentimes friends, but i'm not sure about this
bmk j a c k: yo' bitch, she know you want some tight ass from her

advice better not taken

bmk j a c k: well....its in the grey unspoken area right now
Him: yeah i konw what you mean
Him: the only way is to nail her haha
Him: and if she is seeing other guys then then you know it's a prob
Him: but seriously why not ask her
bmk j a c k: i guess i should...but ya know the feeling, you don't really want to know the answer
bmk j a c k: tho im sure its a no im not
Him: yeah i think you should confirm it, better now than later
...
Him: yeah i think you're ok
bmk j a c k: this is what happens when you go home early and have too much time to fucking think
Him: yeah you should be drunk or stoned
bmk j a c k: im neither
Him: haha
bmk j a c k: fuck it
bmk j a c k: ill go drain off the beam in the freezer
Him: yeah seroiusly no worries

you're so toast - i mean it, you are!

bmk j a c k: the other day, i decided im doin peace corps after i graduate
Him: good plan
Him: i've thought about applying
Him: it's a sure thing, you get to go somewhere, and it looks nice
bmk j a c k: hehe, to hell with owing 60k right away every year for the next 10 years...all with the pack up and go thing
Him: exactly

yeah. what she said.

Her: what kind of issues?
bmk j a c k: the head over heels issue - it's complicated
bmk j a c k: damn this is so much harder to handle
Her: oh no

well, i keep on thinking too much. but i tell people once in a while instead of talking to myself all the way up walnut street.

so i started two conversations with exactly the same starter...

bmk j a c k: i realized that i was really sick of the pre-med attitude at penn, and i wanted to go out doing what i wanted to do - be the one actually helping people
bmk j a c k: you don't know how much a happy face is worth until you're actually responsible for it
Her: it's good ya found this out now...
bmk j a c k: and then - it's depressing knowing i have to work for at least another 10 years to be certified for doing it
Her: ya seemed so sure of it before though...
bmk j a c k: the goal is the same, just i'm really impatient of being a wallflower
bmk j a c k: which is what penn students like to be
bmk j a c k: actually most ivy league students
Her: vivien and susan were saying the same thing...think it would help to talk to them about how pre-med prevents ya from thinking straight sometimes?
bmk j a c k: what were they saying?
Her: how ya forget everything else with just the one goal of getting to med-school. even if it means not helping others to get there...
bmk j a c k: i was thinking a lot today
bmk j a c k: i went downtown for a long time by myself
bmk j a c k: i did some mcat stuff
bmk j a c k: but decided to stay awhile and just think about what i really wanted
Her: that's important...and seems most pre-meds i know go through it...
bmk j a c k: go thru what?
bmk j a c k: hang out on their lonesome and howl at the moon
Her: well, have doubts if they really wanna be going to med school
bmk j a c k: no, i want to... but im sorting out my reasons
bmk j a c k: im separating my reasons from my "obligations"
Her: important step...
Her: think it would help if ya talked to other pre-meds...think ya're not alone, although that path seems like such a lonely and independent one, yaknow?
bmk j a c k: yeah that would probably be a good idea...
bmk j a c k: i know its a lonely one
bmk j a c k: its hard pretending you always know who you are and what you want
Her: it doesn't have to be...think peops are willing to open up if they see ya open up...
bmk j a c k: i'm slowly getting there
bmk j a c k: its one step at a time, ya know?

bmk j a c k: well - there's a hole in my life i need to fill...peace corps would have done the trick
Her: wow. so you're looking for a volunteering effort then...
bmk j a c k: i realized that i was really sick of the pre-med attitude at penn, and i wanted to go out doing what i wanted to do - be the one actually helping people
bmk j a c k: you don't know how much a happy face is worth until you're actually responsible for it
Her: Wow byron- that is really encouraging to hear. you're right, the pre-med attitude can be just more about getting places and being the best, instead of actually helping somebody.
bmk j a c k: haha it means a lot to me - but i can just hear the admissions committee: "he really wants to help people? and so do all the
billion other ivy league students applying!"
bmk j a c k: its depressing knowing that so many people have set such a bad precedent
Her: yeah... well i think that hopefully if you or anyone continues with just a true heart for helping people, and keep that in mind, that you will be able to do just that.

arrrrr, ye be pirates...

Her: and whats the deal with this infamous jen?
bmk j a c k: infamous?
bmk j a c k: ahem...?

and then...

Her: do you think cartiledge piercings are played out?
bmk j a c k: eww
Her: eww?
bmk j a c k: i would say so
Her: hahahah
Her: i feel like all these people at camp have them
bmk j a c k: double triple quadruple eww
Her: haha why are you so weirded out by the idea?
bmk j a c k: i dunno... bc most people don't really have a reason for it
bmk j a c k: like tattoos....if it reminds you of something dear to you, then sure
bmk j a c k: but dont get them bc you just want a tattoo
Her: yeah
bmk j a c k: they look godawful most of the time and it hurts
Her: the cartiledge?
Her: are we thinking of the same thing? top of the ear?
bmk j a c k: its cartilage
bmk j a c k: yeah i know
bmk j a c k: why do you need one up there?
Her: i think they look pretty good
bmk j a c k: ehh, that's only on people that already look pretty good, who dont really need them.
Her: wait, you're saying a cartilage piercing only looks good on someone who already looks good?
bmk j a c k: how about makeup? if you already look good, then it enhances your features. or... you end up like tammy bakker..
bmk j a c k: so yes, thats what im saying
Her: so can i get one?
bmk j a c k: haha
bmk j a c k: i think you look just fine right now
bmk j a c k: but if you feel you relaly need it...
bmk j a c k: then give in to the dark side
Her: lol
Her: my parents would probably not like it
bmk j a c k: most parents wouldnt
bmk j a c k: if my parents liked it, i would be SO weirded out
Her: LOL
Her: my mom's like you'll look like some tribe member
bmk j a c k: put on neck rings one day and see what she says
Her: lol
Her: zulu!

Bullshot!

bmk j a c k: haha i was looking at my bartending book
bmk j a c k: and theres this drink
bmk j a c k: that uses vodka and beef bouillon
bmk j a c k: =-O
Her: ew
Her: ew
Her: ew
bmk j a c k: haha
Her: disgusting...
Her: what's it called?
bmk j a c k: haha....a Bullshot
Her: hehehe

and one last...

Her: so oh my gosh, you passed out from drinking?
bmk j a c k: haha...at least it seems that way
Her: where is this dahlak place? They don't card there?
bmk j a c k: oh passed out?
bmk j a c k: well, you know, really tired
bmk j a c k: not fainting
Her: yeah, but I know what you mean...
bmk j a c k: dahlak is on baltimore
Her: sometimes too much drinks can get to ya
bmk j a c k: gojjos is up there too
bmk j a c k: they both dont card
bmk j a c k: and yeah...haha, twice this week already
bmk j a c k: and they almost made me go today

MAY 23, 2004

Waking up early, getting on that airplane. This airline ain't anything special: Dragonair (why the initials are KA, I do not know), which is some sort of subsidiary of Cathay Pacific. Anthony buys a bottle of Bombay Sapphire in the airport, it's really cheap. Some good celebrations later on. I'm really grumpy, and arriving in a not-too-impressive airport in a city that looks really blocky and uninteresting, bland... well. The bus is a little garish, with those huge curtains that are brocaded and appear as decorations on many a tacky Chinese tour bus - some people love it, but I hate it, and I purposely take a seat that isn't blocked by the curtains. Christina is our tour guide. She apparently went to school at McMaster, in Hamilton, where I used to live. She's picked up all these horrible mannerisms from her time there, such that she talks like a dumb blonde. Who happens to be Asian. I was watching Full Metal Jacket the other day, and the whore in Hanoi talked like her, "me love you long time!" She had this co-worker who didn't say too much, I think he was what we would term a trainee. I suspect he had more experience in tourism than she did, but she spoke English, which was a great difference. This was her first time, and she didn't know too much about anything. "Sun Yat-Sen... he did something or other," or later, "I forgot to bring my notes."

She only mentions Sun Yat-Sen because we stop at his gardens. His Memorial Gardens, with the big Memorial Vault-looking building, and then the National Concert Hall, some other big building, and a makeshift fair in the back. Plus all the actual gardenwork, which is pretty nice. We take pictures everywhere (ten minutes in every spot) like good tourists should, and then we go chase after change from the vendors because we're hella thirsty. At least I am - and Nord is like, how did you get your drink? Hehe. There are all these kids, singing nasty horrible songs, but it is pretty cute. Obviously the crowd loves it, though I think they didn't want their eardrums to burst by atually deigning to sit in front. They just crowd around all the sides. After some long, hot tourism (better explained by the pictures) with the gardens, and the changing of the guard (lots of big steps and clack clack before setting feet in place, and taking 20 minutes like any good changing of the guard), and the getting back on the sweet, sweet air-conditioned bus. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the SARS temperature monitors that were set up. LIke the Hong Kong airport, these tested for heat radiating from your head. The difference was, the airport had scanners that caught the temps from far away, and here, you had to put your face up to this contraption and hold it there till it beeped. It screwed up for some people, and I think Laura's head was a little above temperature. Sketch, but she got in. She did not have SARS.

Well, whatever. The good thing is that we get to go and rest in the hostel (the Chien Tan Overseas Youth Activity Center) for a little bit - which should be exciting. We pass by this huge pagoda type building that is massive. The story is told that after Chiang Kai-Shek set up his little empire in Taiwan with the help of American soldiers, they needed a place for these soldiers to stay, along with their families. So, they took this old temple and made it into a wonderful beautiful place to stay. BUT... we're not staying there. Past the pretty lake, and the pretty fountain, there's this ugly monster. It's ugly, and we're going to stay here. A girl, pretty in the strict Victorian sense walks by, apparently from an American missionary family, and I say hello. She says hi, but her father shoos her along, and she says, "sorry, we've got to go." Then upstairs, where I am rooming with John Blake, Anthony and John Kneeland. I take the bottom bunk, Blake takes the upper. So here we are in this crappy mosquito-laden room with a shower-on-the-floor, which nobody is used to. Ugh. But the only good thing: a massage chair, that gives awesome massages for pennies. It's illegal in the United States, as it has a tendency to catch fire. Catching fire while having the greatest massage of your life (aside from having one from your favorite girl)... that's a fair enough tradeoff. Funny enough, the Temple University Choir is also staying at our hostel, a few floors down. They are singing in Taipei and in Kaohsiung, as well as in Hong Kong. Anthony knows one of them. I talked to one, and we said we should "hang out" but that never happened.

We stop at a restaurant, at a hotel like always. This one is a buffet, and I eat my smallest meal of the entire trip here. It was pretty gross. Funny how the style of food, just changed a little, makes me not want to eat at all. I'm used to Hong Kong-style cooking, because many of the cooks in Vancouver (also my relatives) cook in that style, and not this more bland Taiwanese style. However, it's kind of a fact that Taiwanese fried dumplings are really good, at those roadside stands that we never had a chance to stop at. Yeah. Walking down the street with a few of the guys, we stop at a 7/11 (really, 7/11 is our lifeblood in Asia). We ask this annoying German guy and his more American-sounding Asian friend where we can go (this after we fail to find out anything from the cashier). Drinks are cheap, so I busy myself looking around for that kind of thing rather than asking those two dimwits (who in the end didn't really know anything, they just wanted to find out what us Americans wanted to see in the city... playing games, geez) what to do. Outside, we go farther down the road, but there doesn't seem to be too much. The city is kind of plain all the way around, and again, I'm not impressed.

"This One Time, At Taiwan."

I swear, this is what all the tickets and posters say. They're plastered everywhere, and they're incredibly tacky. Not that I don't appreciate the attention, because they're loving it. When we're in rehearsal, everyone is incredibly attentive in the tiny auditorium (they really don't know how to make nice performance spaces here... it doesn't take that much money to clean it up.. i mean come on! give me a bucket and I could clean it as well!). Anyway, we're at this activity center, and we're singing with this choir that's very very average. Good thing we're not singing those hideous folksongs. It's terribly hot, because the lights are really close to us and they're just melting! Performance time. But they love our songs! Way more than the Penn alums did, because they're used to that caliber performance... this audience was a lot more countrified. They'd never seen anything like it (as they kept on telling us) and admittedly, all this attention from all those Taiwanese girls in the other choir was good. For Bobys and Kneeland, that is. They were almost splooging their pants on stage. I didn't really like them all that much, but yeah - I did give out my e-mail address left and right and pose for cellphone pictures. Stupid cellphone pictures.

That night we ate at another hotel nearby, the Holiday Inn Asiaworld. It was a really late dinner, and the Caucasian couples at the dinner tables already were almost frightened-looking when our whole crowd rushed and attacked the buffet. The food was OK, manageable, but I didn't eat very much. The whole Taiwan thing was kind of a sour experience for me... not because anything was bad, but just because I didn't like the entire place that much. Gave me the wrong vibe. Even Christina, who insisted on pictures with everybody. Smile, she said, as she gave her camera to Brandon to take a picture of us. Argh. I'll miss you all right. I'll miss you being an entirely terrible tour guide and not telling me anything about Taiwan that I didn't know before I came here. Geez. We had a bunch of Taiwan beers, I had some Carlsberg, and Anthony had his Bombay Sapphire, and come midnight, we had my little birthday celebration. Of all the things that happened that night, all I remember is shouting "bitch please" in the hallway, and yelling Bitterman every five seconds. I'm sure Laura wasn't too happy that night. Not happy at all. Well, at least some of the time. I woke up the next morning in sweaty clothes, a peeling back (from the sun burn I got at Ocean City) and mosquito bites all over the place. The shower was a welcome respite from itching. Apparently, that's what happened to a lot of people too.

MAY 22, 2004

Today is a day of opportunity - we have the entire day free, until the afternoon, to do whatever we want. First things first... sleep. It does take us a while to get ready for the day, but soon enough we gather to get into town. Unfortunately, we have to rehearse a little, and then go get some food - lunch or whatever, at some seafood restaurant. I ordered some hot and sour soup, but that was a waste of money. Afterwards, Alex, Anthony and I ready to go downtown to see the Bank of China Tower, but soon we get more people on our little trek. We head down to the subway, to take the Tsuen Wan line down to Central. It's an awesome subway. It's meticulously clean and filled with people. There are glass walls so nobody can fall on the tracks, and the cars are all clean. There are video ads all over the place. Very futuristic. The cars are even painted! I think ours was a Peanuts one... it was so awesome. Beautiful. The one thing I took note of was that their ads did kinda suck. I mean, they were OK, but didn't do it for me, visually. Obviously they were in Chinese too, so that may have been a factor.

Anyway, so we get down to where we need to go, the Admiralty station of the MTR (Mass Transport Rail). We walk through Lippo Plaza, which looks like koalas climbing on each other (Lippo is this rich Indonesian bank, a member of whom bribed Clinton famously in 1998). From there, we get to the Bank of China Tower, which is closed to the public today. We can't get up there. So damn... Anthony and Alex decide to head to Pacific Place, because they're hungry. All the rest of us decide to go up to Hong Kong Park, which is awesome and what not. We walk through this awesome conservatory, an aviary with thhis brilliant blue bird that I took a picture of, and this fountain. The fountain, which you could run underneath with the water falling all around you. It was great! It was more of a visual thing... hard to put into words, but I'm glad we went to the park. It was a little oasis of beauty in the center of this urban jungle. Hong Kong is so packed full of people. We head to Pacific Plaza now, which is full of high-octane stores that we can't afford. Blah. White and sparse. Classy, but we have to go. We take the MTR back using Admiralty station, and get off at the Tsim Sha Tsui stop on Nathan Road before heading to the hotel. Shower, change, get ready.

It does kind of suck, then, that we have to go and do our first performance of tour. After all, we haven't had time to finish seeing Hong Kong, and there is surely a lot more to see. But this is the way things are - we have a schedule, we stick to it, and since others are mostly paying, we keep our mouths shut. We're still pretty diplomatic. I am in fine form this night. Our bus pulls up around the corner from this place (where, we're not quite sure yet) but when we round the corner, we find ourselves looking at the US Embassy here in Hong Kong. It's Garden Street. Across the street is our performance venue, a colonial-style house that will host a Penn scholarship drive for some lucky Hong Kong student. The monies are raised from among a bunch of rich Penn alums working in Hong Kong. The place is beautiful - apparently, it's a ladies club now. It was blessed as a institute for ladies in 1916 by Helena May and her husband Sir Henry May, the then-governor of Hong Kong. Anyway, history aside, we have to practice. We do, and everything is perfect as it can possibly be after being so worn from travel. All the while, the staff are cleaning the place up and making everything just right. These people are going to be spoiled, as they get gift bags and raffle prizes from all these incredible places... a $12,800 Dior handbag, a $9,800 Tiffany brooch, a $3,680 Fendi handbag, digital flatscreen, Kate Spade handbag, $2,000 in MAC makeup, etc. Before you think, wow, remember it's Hong Kong dollars, which go for 8 HK to 1 US. But still, some expensive stuff there, and I really hope these guys give a lot of money.

As people stroll in for pre-dinner drinks, I happen to be walking along and get a tap on the shoulder. Last thing I expect - did I do something wrong? - but no, it's apparently two of my friends, who live in Hong Kong, and are here! At this very function! Johnny is one, who is president of the Wharton China Business Forum undergraduate group here on campus. His girlfriend, who used to live across the hall from me, and is now matured into this really amazingly... yeah, well, Jasmine is here too. Their group apparently donated tons of money to this thing and they have to show up and do whatever. I make an appointment with them to hang out tonight - I mean, what else would I do? Sleep? Talked with some other alums, who seem kind of impressed. They work with Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley in Asia, and this other woman does some other financial work with Asian banks. I also talk with this alum who works partly with some science groups here in Hong Kong (I discuss possibilities of getting me a job here some time, he is accepting, but whatever, it's small talk, and I don't intend on working here anyway). I think Anthony wanted to work the connections when he first heard about it, but either he's having trouble with the Asian thing, or it's like he thought after he came in: he thinks Hong Kong is dirty and stuff. Can't blame him, it is dirty, but finance is finance, and here's the Asian capital. Well, the performance is sterling, I do my little diplomatic bit, and we run home after we perform. Those people love us (a little reminder of home). Everyone else goes to bed, but here's where my adventure comes in.

I called Johnny, and we arranged to meet at Lan Kwai Fong. After finding no one that wanted to go (I was a little pissed, even the partiers were pooped...I wasn't tired), I decided to go by myself. What the hell, I'm only here once, and apparently this is THE place to go. I take a taxi down and it costs me 10 bucks US, same as Philly prices for the distance, but I'm pissed because I feel everything should be cheaper. Anyway, we drive by all these cool places, which I later find out is called SoHo, the "South of Hollywood Road" sector. This, by the way, is on Hong Kong Island, down in CentralThere's lots of international restaurants and bars, and this HUGE club that I see tons of people at. But that doesn't compare with Lan Kwai Fong. When I get there, millions of people are clogging up the entire road. It's a maze of streets - ok, a very small one, there's maybe like 2 block width and length, but there's people everywhere. There are Western-style restaurants for during the day, but at night, all the bars are open. Everyone cool is here, just as if you would go to a chill club in NYC, and all the expats in the city are there. I'm supposed to meet them at this one bar if they do come, but I get bored of waiting and decide to wander around. There's lots of hot white girls, and I talk to a few, but the one I'm getting good with takes one last gulp. It's a bit too much, as it's more of a chug, and she's GONE. Damn. Her friends cart her off. So it's just me and my Heineken, with all these cool people hangin out around me. Some of these people are freeloaders off their parents; they live here, and just spend money. Some go to school here, and some are working here after college, because their family is based here. I learn a lot just from hangin out. It's funny, because there are alos middle-aged people hanging out here and even some old people. Some bars blast rap and club music, and some do oldies, but everyone seems to get along fine. The street, where no cars are allowed, is where everybody just chills together, dances, whatever. I have to piss, no bathrooms - so I run to a shady alley and do my business. Then back to more beer. I missed meeting up with them.... damn. During my time with that girl, apparently, our meeting time had come and gone, and then I got kind of drunk and then had to go home. Blake was still up. We watched music videos, lots of Korean shit, and vapid Chinese pop, and Jet on replay, and then snore. Two hours and some, and we have to get up. Freakin a.

MAY 21, 2004

Tsim Sha Tsui Dreams

Sitting on a tour bus, listening to the Flaming Lips sing of Yoshimi, and seeing the beginnings of a trend that will last all trip: the raised collar. It's ridiculous, Completely. It looks different - but somehow, so, so preppy. Right before I noticed the raised collar, and Anthony and Kneeland both doing it, I was thinking how it was only three days but it felt like forever, and junior year was just finishing and I had been worried about jobs and grades and paying the rent and bills for the summer, but there was just this 18 day layaway on OPM - other people's money - where I didn't have to think about anything at all! It's great! I'm happy, but yeah, I'm still grumpy too. Especially about what time we had to wake up and all. We have to be on the road at 8 AM? This is cruel and unusual punishment. John woke me up, after having been awake for like two hours, working on a paper or something. How he could do that here is beyond me.

We stop at the Bird Garden, on Yuen Po Street near Prince Edward MTR station in Mong Kok. Mong Kok, for reference is north of Kowloon proper and contains the famous Mong Kok Night Market, which we'll go to on a later date. Pointless stop, really. Most of the bird shops aren't open, and it's kinda cool for all of 10 seconds. What I really wanted was some rolls for breakfast, so me and Anthony broke cover and ran for the street. Unfortunately, Mike caught us - we said something about food and ran out of sight before she could offer more help. We did find a 7-11, but it had all kinds of weird snacks and really greasy potato chips. Blecch. Waste of money. But, heaven, finally. Maria's Bakery. For what amounted to a dollar, I got a bunch of those pork bun things and look at all those jealous eyes when I got on the bus (especially Brandon - who, by the way, lives two doors down from me this summer).

Then, the Sik Sik Yuen Wong Tai Sin temple, where everybody goes. Tourists and locals alike, all waving joss, shaking sticks and giving themselves cancer from the massive smoke and ash in the air. We pass by, at some point, the Happy Valley Racecourse in Wan Chai, where millions and millions of dollars are invested every day by native Hong Kong residents. The Hong Kong Jockey Club is an obviously large presence, as their influence is everywhere: their name is all over buildings in the area, and they are prestigious in a way that we only afford to basketball players and successful teams in the US. This temple is in Kowloon I got my fortune, which was a number 10. The actual fortune said something like, situations can be bad unless you really show someone your true skills. Kind of common sense, but also a good fortune. Work hard and you'll get what you want, it basically said. I felt kind of weird, because I didn't think praying to ancestors or to Kwan-Yin or anybody would do anything, but I just did it because it was kind of cool. Like playing Dress-Up. Anthony took a stand - I'm not doing it if I don't believe in it. Steichen and Mike walking around like, how do I do this praying stuff? And Matt, being like, it's rude if you don't! Whatever. I walked thgouth the Good Wish Gate and the Nine Dragon Gate, and the Confucius Temple, as well as that little garden place in the back. Some hot girl was standing back there - the only reason I needed for giving my 2 hk dollar donation and heading in. Haha, right. Ignore that.

So we drive through town again, we can see the Peak in the distance - we're supposed to go there eventually. For now, it's meeting David Pong at Maxim's yam-cha at City Hall. Most expensive in Hong Kong, and DAMN good. Everything I'm used to back home in Toronto and Vancouver. Not Philly style. Blecch. We wait a little bit since there is a pause between courses - our big group is pre-ordered - and David shows up. David greets us, hopes that we're having a good time. He seems distracted though, and after a few moments of talk with Alex and Nord, he says he has to meet a client and runs out the door with one eye over his shoulder, as if he was nervous about something. His last word: order what you want, my secretary just ordered it for me but you're welcome to get whatever you need. Okay, we say. We only need another dish for the vegetarians on the trip: Vik, Bruce, Ryan, Ed. Bruce is of the newly converted, and I feel he will change back. There are too many temptations for him to handle; but of course, for now, the Counterparts clique stays together. Anyway, I'm enjoying the ha-cou, the chi-fan I've been craving for so long.

Bruce looks out the window and I follow his gaze. The harbor. Beautiful, the fog laying close to the water surface and just barely retaining that air of mystery around this town. (Oh, and about the water...Hong Kong is the largest port in Asia, with Victoria Harbor having up to 800 ships on its surface at any time. All the stuff goin to the rest of Asia usually gets routed through Hong Kong - the biggest shipping companies all store containers here, where thousands and thousands of them are piled one on top of each other.)

OK, so finally the big event. The Peak, or Victoria Peak. It's in the middle of Central, on Hong Kong Island. We stop at the Peak Galleria instead of the ricebowl and chopsticks - it really is that! Looking out the window in the Galleria, you can see two parallel sticks standing upright with a bowl on top. It is a building, however, ridiculous looking as it is, and designed by one Terry Farrell. It's called the Peak Tower, with a Ripley's in there somewhere.I wanted a beer, but I didn't get one, because there was sightseeing to do first. Go out on the roof in the rain, come back in, go um, no, not goin back out there. Then, try on the "kimonos" or the Chin-er jackets that they have pictures of Clinton and Jiang Zemin wearing... they look hilarious. By far the most interesting part of this little excursion is when school lets out. Oh yeah. Because they all rush into the mall, and when they see John Blake with the hair and the black skin like all those crazy basketball players and rappers, they go crazy. Can you sign this? Can you take a picture with me? Then they see the rest of us, and they go ooh! Westerners! White! They think I'm like them, which I am, until I speak fluent English to someone and suddenly I'm in the good books too. Ha. How easily they're persuaded, and how deceptive is our perception. Anyway, so we were mobbed by Asian schoolgirls. Yeah, that was hot. Though of course, they were all jailbait and not to my liking - but Knelland and Nick were definitely on their knees drooling. Best decision ever: we sing. Of course, it's Brothers Sing On which is not exactly the most exciting piece ever. We would have done so good if we had done ANYTHING else (save that spoken word bit) but since they hadn't heard anything like it before, the ENTIRE mall stopped and started listening. Cheering, clapping, during the entire thing (which is kind of boring) and giving us a huge ovation when we were done and filing out of the mall...it's like we're the Beatles, and they're anywhere in the world in 1963.

The day is not done though, because next we have Stanley Market, at the south end of Hong Kong Island. It's a great place with stands to buy cheap ties (of which I bought a bunch, since I need them) and other cheap crap that many other people bought and didn't need. And then Ed, Min and Kneeland all bought Mao bags. Those were kinda cool, but three people owning 'em? Definitely overkill. Anthony and I, and then Steve and I, and then Alex and I, and then... I wandered a lot, OK? I bought this picture of a sampan in front of Hong Kong, which everybody else also bought, but mine was in BLUE! And nobody could find that color! Ha! Then we walked over to this huge restaurant building which was apparently the rebuilt colonial Murray House, and then this mall, the Village Square that didn't sell anything that anyone would want to buy (unless you loved Hello Kitty products to death). Interestingly enough, Murray House was dismantled in 1982 and brought to Stanley from its spot where the Bank of China Tower now stands. Aaaaaah, hot touristy girls. Oh yeah, those 3 blond hotties. Um, what, did I say anything happened? Bought Sprite on Fire (ginger), Sprite Ice (kind of dietish Sprite), saw more schoolgirls who shrieked and clustered.

Dinner was on this cruiser that went around Aberdeen Harbor and the bay. I must say the view was awesome, I smoked part of Steve's stogie, I danced to YMCA and other hits of the seventies to a horrible lounge singer that sang just a little better than a person with no vocal cords, I gagged on the horrible food, and I got in trouble for my little bottle of Stella Artois that I asked a steward to open. Cigarettes as vices. People who said smile and took a picture and then bothered you to buy their stupid little trinkets with your Polaroid on it. Nope, I said, I'm going. Before the rest of these peasant types from the Mainland (not my words, because I didn't know where they were from, but who else would take a cruise round the bay on this piece of crap if they weren't tourists? If they're Chinese to boot, then they're Mainland) get down there and take up all the good spots.

After returning home from that adventure, some of us went down to Mong Kok to shop at the Night Market. There was more of the same crap, just way more people and the addition of hundreds of electronics stores and food. Those were all either disgusting outside vendors, with lots of unappealing steaming entrails lying around (I can eat guts, but presentation points are required), or fast food that you couldn't fit in the door to. We very rapidly lost many people as it was very east to turn a corner and lose yourself in the crowd. Eventually, we just headed back to the hotel. Anthony, John Blake and I stopped to get a beer at this one place, and Bruce and Ryan showed up, somehow guessing where we would be. If I had only known the good places I would have gone... because I found all these places much better, just down the road. I was pissed. Sleep. Early enough. Bah.

MAY 20, 2004

Mody Road

"But you can call me Mike, be-cause I al-e-ways use the mike-ro-phone."

Crash landed at the airport on Lantau Island. The old one, Kai Tak, sits on Hong Kong Island (I think...) empty as a poor man's cupboard, having been used as a market, a car park, and finally, a place for bums to stay. Our guide takes us to the pagod-er in the chin-er to see the budd-er of the fut-er. And an "o-kayy" after each line, and a "now" before each line. "Noooooowww, do you know how to tell public housing? So many national flags! O-kayyyy." Funny. Bobys is hitting on her... oh, oh, oh... not working.

The bus (tropical looking seats!) goes through Central into Hong Kong Island and we stop at some temple. Apparently one of many millions. Praying to Kwan-Yin, goddess of mercy. Or to the god of Kung-fu, or the god of Knowledge, or the 10 Kings of Hell, who apparently judge our souls from the fiery depths before sending you up or down... All these people waving their incense sticks and dropping their bamboo dice to find luck and messages from their ancestors in the otherworld. Some businessman is sitting there throwing his little sticks around in front of Kwan-Yin and the month-burning sticks of incense, and then his cell-phone rings. "Hello? Before I start my forced takeover of your company, I'm praying for mercy and good fortune. Ay-yaaah! Don't bother me at the temple, dirtbag. Yeah, yeah, puh-leez! And good tidings to the wife too!" It kind of smells like raw sewage, so I have enough and go back to the bus. The bus leaves (after Nord rushes back late, along with Nono, but that's no surprise).

Repulse Bay, named for the pirates that were repulsed from there by the British navies. Mike says that this name can be remembered because of the dude that loved this girl and was rejected (thus, Repulse Bay). But then he got rich and came back and the golddigger married the guy, so he named a neighboring beach something happy. But I forget what that place was called. Yay, fun story! The statues there are amazing! It's a giant park of just weird beautiful Chinese figures though a little garish (the most ornate dragon statue in Hong Kong) and then there's the big building with the hole in the middle - for feng shui reasons, it prevents the evil spirits from entering, but for practical reasons, it allows cool air to the buildings behind. Anyway, the two giant statues at this bay (with the most popular beach in Hong Kong and the Yacht Club and all the fancy houses in the surrounding area) are of Kwun Yum and Tin Hau, the goddess of luck and/or the sea, something like that. Tin Hau is a popular goddess on Hong Kong, as the sea is involved with most of Hong Kong's activities (after all, that's what the city was founded for, and it was also separated from China for so long and only had sea access).

The Bank of China Tower is the tallest building in Hong Kong. It is shaped like a knife and was used to project bad feng-shui toward the British governor's residence. Good propaganda for the Chinese government, who sought to preserve its influence in China. However, the British governor hired out a feng shui expert from mainland China to block the bad effects. Thus, the guy planted weeping willows on the Southern slope of the governor's residence. Total blockage of the evil spirits. There's also bad feng shui from graveyards. I don't know how Hong Kong deals with the massive circular graveyard right in the center of town. Apparently, people get buried there for a certain amount of time before they get rotated into crematoriums. During their burial time, they are buried vertically. Gross. Next we stop at Ocean Park, Hong Kong's only amusement park. There used to be some sort of water park there as well but it was closed down because it wasn't too popular with the locals. None of us go in, of course, and instead we just go to the bathroom - cleaner than other places, Mike says.

Then, it's North Point and the Jumbo Floating Restaurant. Here, the bus drops us close to the river and we have the option to go out in this trashy boat that can take us places: past the large moored boat labeled with "Jumbo Floating Restaurant" in big ugly letters, through the morass of sampans and houseboats filled with junk (the Fisherman Village) so we can take pictures, hopefully, though we can't stand up in the boat. It's still early, so there's no drying of fish on the roofs of the sampans yet. Good: I don't feel like gagging on the smells yet. Anthony sees one of the hats on the boat, and he immediately wants it. "A Chen hat! Gotta take one! Get everybody to take a picture with it!" Why, we all ask. "Get one for me, and one for Nikki. SO David can wear it with a kimono!" He laughs wildly, as if - no, it is his own private joke. He seems to find it amusing. Of course. He's only been wanting to do that ever since he found out we were going to Asia. He buys it, naturally (I call it the Rice Paddy Special, but I keep that name to myself), and we take a lot of pictures out there on the water. Anthony wears the hat and everyone else refuses. The woman driving the boat is strangely good at steering this boat through tiny spaces between boats, such that I'm nervous for the boat yet entirely trusting of her skills. I don't think anyone else noticed as they were trying to snap ten billion pictures of anything and everything. We had left a whole bunch of people at the docks, but funny, when we get back, they decide to go out, and we see them leave.

Our next stop is a Buddhist temple. It is going to be Siddartha Gautama's birthday very soon, and so there are all these preparations for that holiest of days. We climb the stairs (pausing on the stairs for 15 minutes to take a billion pictures) and then get to the top, where the main temple is. There, monks and nuns are droning and chanting in front of the golden statue of the Budd-er. They bang this drum every once in a while and then run around the entire structure like they're looking for ghosts and then they go back inside for a few minutes. Meanwhile, here's all the Glee Club walking around everywhere and taking flash pictures while they're trying to be devout, and I'm sure they're like "get these fucking tourists away before I kill one of them, I swear on the great Enlightened Buddha."

Lunch is at this restaurant inside a mall, where Anthony buys three very gay shirts. Unforuntately, gay means stylish - what fashion people would do is say, balance the homo and the hetero. Get the slob jeans and the pink polo...wait, no... I get him to buy the blue polo instead. Admittedly, it's cheap. If he bought it, wore it once and threw it away, it's still a good deal. Steve makes a mess eating. He's not used to chopsticks, and neither is anyone else, save Min, Jon (who has his Taiwanese buddies) and me. Paul doesn't count. Paul is our friendly tour organizer/do-everything man who likes to wear easily visible colors - his blue coat, his red hat, his Hawaiian shirt or shorts, depending on the day. In any case...

Ay ay captain. Mike tells us all about this fortified village as we head into the New Territories (to Shatin, the place of the Sha family, if that's right). She talks about the 5 clans - I forget their names - and how they had family compounds where all the male children would immediately get a plot of land that they would then own, to build a house on. When the British came in the 1880s, these places became walled to protect the compound from the ravages of colonialism. One of these becamse the fortified village, which was just a square settlement surrounded by square walls, with very little room between each of the houses. It's very cramped. But somehow, it's very clean. This old hag sits at the doorway and takes our money when we enter. It's donation only, but she's sitting there demanding the money ("One dolla! One dolla! ONE DOLLA!!!!"), and I can't say no, especially when I'm trying not to look at her height and the fact that her shriveled breasts touch the floor. Yikes. Did I just say that? Anyway, I get out of there pretty quickly. Jon says it's a good place for paintball. I agree. Jon and I, we're adventurous, and we walk down the street in this place. There's all these shops selling useless crap, including a toy machine gun that looks SO real that if we brought it to JFK, we'd be thrown in Abu Ghraib and never seen again. After a long while, we head back to the bus. Mike is amused. Everyone else is pissy, since they didn't really want to go there and we held the bus up a bit. Whatever. It's a freaking holiday, give me a break.

Hotel Nikko! For rich Japanese tourists! In Tsim Sha Tsui East (apparently, this is the nice part of town). We are in Kowloon and can see Hong Kong Island from where we are. "Reminder," Mike says, "take card for taxi." Card? Oh yes. Hotel card, written in Chinese so the cab driver can take you home after you go all on your lonesome around that great island. It's weird being in such a free place considering it's part of China. A SAR, a special autonomous region, where capitalism and freedom of the press are pretty much guaranteed to run as they have been since British rule. Still communist, but running the country with all this capitalist money. Strange and hypocritical but the way of all communist governments nonetheless. Fundamentally individual, but in a practical sense, no country can exist on its own. Thus, a problem for ideology that cannot truly be solved. While we were there, we had a popular radio jockey resign (at the tail end of the resignations of several other popular Hong Kong radio jockeys) after he was sent a letter asking him to curtail his demagoguery against the Chinese government. He said something close to, "we're in big trouble, guys. I'm outtie."

In any case, we move into our rooms. I share a room with John Blake. Big haired black man, and such an amusement. He complains of too much stuff, a complaint shared more or less by the rest of the crew. Anthony starts out with 50 kg of luggage, without even buying anything. Steve has a huge fat suitcase, as does Alex. Vik has two big duffel bags full. So much stuff. John is so careful - he's brought every toiletry item he'll ever need, all in this giant plastic shoulder bag thing. Enough shampoo to last him a year, and the same for conditioner, lotion, hair gel or spray, I don't remember which, etc. I just have this little case for my deodorant, toothbrush, toothpase, floss... no shampoo. I refused to bring that. Last time I did, it exploded in my bag getting on a bunch of my stuff - I figured ruining my clothing on the first day would give me a real headache.

Swimming, we play "Minnows and Sharks", and I win, because they all can't find me. My back is peeling because of that day at Ocean City where I burned every inch of my exposed skin, giving me a nice tan. Ignore the pulsating redness and the skin flakes. Dinner comes quickly after the shower. Guangzhou Hotel, mediocre food (more corn soup...cheapest thing on the menu?) and then Alex, Anthony and I go for a little walk. We walk down to McDonald's at the New World Center. Portions at this McD's are half-size and a little more expensive comparatively. They have small-ass McFlurry's (and cappuccino flavor!), and shrimp and pork dishes. Nice. But the best part of the night is a walk down the Avenue of Stars, where we have this breathtaking view of the harbor at night. We can see all the buildings illuminated in the lights turned on after dark... it's so beautiful. Too bad all the pictures turned out like crap. On the way back - down Nathan Road that cuts north and south through Kowloon - and then onto Mody Road (where our hotel is), we stop by a bar for a few expensive Tsingtaos. Home.

MAY 19, 2004

Leaving On A Jet Plane

Everyone chant with me: I love SQ, I love SQ. Singapore Airlines, an airline run by a country, filled with sexy stewardesses (and how come American ones are always so old and wrinkled? what happened to the chicas that ran the air, like I saw in View from the Top? What a rip! Boo unions! Boo lost standards!) and that wise man who put on-demand movies and video games on every seat on every plane. And the food. Damn if I didn't actually enjoy the airline food! Score! I slept a lot, of course, enough so that when we landed, I had barely any jet lag to speak of. I think I sat near Anthony on this one, who watched Cold Mountain and called it good... and later, called it bad with the reasoning that it was depressing. Depressing movies are bad?? You must be really fragile emotionally if that's what makes a bad movie! (I'm also an arthouse film connoisseur who likes the occasional action movie... I work in a video store after my research job and like movies that make me angry at something, or so sad that I feel numb. Of course, I'm not that well-read in movies, having not seen any Kurosawa or those dandy Italian films I'm always told to watch. Boo-freakin-hoo for labels.)

MAY 18, 2004

To San Fran

In the morning, I wake up with a smile that comes effortlessly. It's like when I look at her picture, or eat a slice of thick chocolate cake, or when the sun is warm on my back and there's the slightest trace of wind. Rhett Miller on repeat. ..and they took the long way... An incurable romantic, goes the line. There is lots to smile about, certainly. It is the day on which the flight leaves to San Francisco, and then Hong Kong, and I have a place to sleep and a place to work when I get back. The fact that I'm sleeping on the couch with no blankets and the feeling that I haven't really slept in months - well, who cares about that? The whiner's bio never gets read, that little voice pipes in. So. David Bowie comes on, as does Whitesnake. But does he like it? Click, change. The All-American Rejects play the Last Song. As I finish my packing (merely closing the suitcase), I wonder why I'm trying to relive last summer. I listen to songs because they make me nostalgic for last summer (though all these songs are mostly inherently nostalgic...remember all the simple things you know...i still hope that you'll miss me when i'm gone... Come to think of it, I do want to be missed when I'm gone. Her ghost still haunts my daydreams, though she's left my nights alone. I can still hear faint whispers from the corners, the doorway, the windows. But it's only the wind, blowing leaves against my window. Snatches of the rantings of an angry frat boy pushing his cart down the road. I love what I'm leaving, and when it comes down to it, I don't mind if I'm the one doing most of the missing.

On time, waiting in Annenberg 511's atrium so that David can come with the key and open the room. My suitcase is locked in there because I put it there, a safe place to leave my stuff while I practice some piano. It's a little nervewracking, performing two piano solos in front of all these audiences that I haven't practiced for in three weeks. Both I can barely dredge up from memory. I remember the Velvet Underground's Stephanie Says better. It's another nostalgic song. This from two years ago, when I went on a Lou Reed binge and stuck Heroin everyday. The groove, cowboy. Finally, Dave does show up, and we wait outside to get in the bus. We get on, blah blah blah. But hold up number two! Who is still sleeping? Who has finally pulled a Byron? No. This isn't the same. I don't wake up still drunk at 5ish in the afternoon. It's Rob, who still hasn't packed his suitcase, who gave us the wrong address for his house so that we drive around the block three times before going to his old address and find him there. We suggest the taxi, as he's not ready, but clearly we are waiting for him and not being jerks. It's funny, though, because we still have plenty of time, and god knows I've held Club up for an hour before (though not before an international flight and an awesome tour). Some more bad news. Will has had his leg chewed up by a spider and it's swelling bigger, bigger, gone. Doctors keep him under observation and tell him you can't leave until we're sure the leg is okay. Will lets out a cry of rage and curses everybody and the English government like any good Irish should do.

Philadelphia to San Francisco: 18 May, 820 PM: US 577, 23E

The funny thing is... that wasn't our last holdup. Evidently, the gods were conspiring against us yet again. Tour had already been put off once because of the outbreak of SARS, but here we were again, ready to go (albeit in the plane already and not just excited to leave) when thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening - yes, these strike. There is no sex in the champagne room tonight. Three hour delay before take off. Evidently people are worried. David and Alex call everybody they know: US Air offices, Singapore Airlines offices, the US Embassy (though why they would actually use their political points on us at this hour of the night, I don't know), Judy Rodin, Hong Kong honchos, Ed Razofsky (head of Penn Development, the fancy name for squeezing money out of Alumni the classy way... boo PennFund). As some people know, Singapore Airlines never holds flights back. Never. Unless the government orders it.

Here's an excerpt of the email sent from the US Embassy in Singapore to our president while we were waiting on the ground in Philadelphia:

"I had no way to call you back, so hope you'll see this. I called our travel expert/booker, who says that SQ prides itself on leaving punctually. They're only known to hold flights if there's something like a medically emergency--patient needs to get on to get to hospital immediately. She said the airport staff will have a back up plan, putting you either on another SQ flight or one for another airline, depending on your ticket. I know this is frustrating, but at least you allowed several days before the concert on the 26th. "

V-----
Deputy Director Office of Public Affairs
U.S. Embassy, Singapore

In any case, something happened, because SQ did wait for us. We arrive in San Francisco and the pilot announces to everybody that 28 people must get off first, as they must catch their connecting flight to an Asia tour, and all these people look around wondering who it could possibly be. We run by them, and they stare. Nobody stops running - through the terminal, we have Singapore Airlines, US Air and airport officials all waving us on like we're finishing the last lap and we need to go just that much faster to beat the other guy. We make it. We don't end up missing the flight and cutting off a week from tour to get everybody over on alternate flights. Sighs of relief.

San Francisco to Hong Kong: 19 May, 120 AM: SQ 1, 56F

MAY 15, 2004

So we're going to Asia. It's confirmed. And you want to know where we're going? I'm so excited I think I'll tell you.

May 18 - we leave to Hong Kong!
May 20 - um, yeah, we arrive. (hotel nikko)
May 22 - concert at Helena May
May 23 - get into Taipei, concert at youshi (youshi youth center)
May 24 - 20th birthday! dinner with Penn Club
May 25 - get into Singapore (copthorne orchid)
May 26 - concert at Esplanades for alums, United Overseas Bank and the US Embassy (check out pics of the place at http://www.esplanade.com)
May 27 - get into Beijing (long tan hotel)
May 28 - concert at Renmin University, with Minister of Cultural Affairs or Education
May 29 - concert at the Capital Club for alums
May 30 - get into Xi'an (bell pagoda hotel), concert at Xi-Bei Industry University with Governor, for Chinese television
June 1 - concert at Northwest University
June 2 - get into Shanghai (grand hyatt shanghai)
June 3 - concert at Fu-Dan University
June 4 - concert at Wharton Shanghai Conference, tour dinner and awards!
June 5 - leave for home :(

What a great past two weeks. Catching up on lost time. Making good with old friends. Getting to know those special people before they leave ( how sad ). Drinks with the Bens and Jellife (at the statue no less) on College Green. Drinks with those McGill kids and Lisa and an astonishing Becs at the Biopond. Dinner at my place, and goooood times. Then, dessert and Grace being happy, Lisa even more so, and Brenna just laughing. Then, dinner number two. Drinks. Philly Diner forever and ever. Greatest afternoon ever at Rittenhouse. Getting the keys to the summer place. Frisbee with Assad. Singing for Class of etc etc. Long, long talks (with people that mean so much to me and who have so MUCH to say...). Miranda being in town RIGHT NOW. Seeing Nachi on the Walk for some odd reason. Seeing Edith in the park, and then Evi right after??

I've got a lot of stuff to think about in the next few weeks (seriously, like important things, not just having fun on the trip) so pray for me or wish me luck or something.

So excited! Birthday in Asia! May 24... it's gonna be mad CRAZY!

Oh yeah, I got the Tech and Research beat for the DP next semester. I'll likely music direct for Annie, Get Your Gun, and I'm also writing for the Summer Pennsylvanian. I've already got an assignment for Monday! Yay for Molly being my boss...

APRIL 25, 2004

I am a senior. I am a senior. I am a senior. I am a senior. I am a... fuck!

I had so much fun on Hey Day - tho the getting trashed and then mad dirty and then J-Ro's LAST heyday sendoff and then losing my hat and floury seniors pelting ketchup and mustard and all kinds of foulness and laundry and seeing everybody and I mean everybody having the best time of their lives. These few weeks (I refer to it in the last blog entry...) have been amazing and I'm getting sentimental again.

Kanye West, man. Had dinner with the Mayer gang at Lemon Grass and then off to Electric Factory with Assad and Casey. Lemme tell you, that was hell. The cabbie dropped us off 7 blocks from the Electric Factory and we walked the wrong way in the rain looking for the place. We only found this union hall where they were having some weird 30-plus event. I mean, some hot girls and then old geezers, a DJ and people eating ham sandwiches? Whatever, we got directions and wandered some more, until we were soaked enough to get a cab again. So finally there... and the best time. Dilated Peoples were pretty good, Young Gunz ehhhhh (tho they got some hot songs), and Kanye West finally heating up the place. It was kind of funny, because he played his ENTIRE album through. His violinist (Mary?) was pretty good, and they gave her this HUGE solo to do. I had a rockin time. Makes violinage all cool and shit. Kanye looked so college-y, which obviously he's meant to be (College Dropout, duh), but it seemed funny after Young Gunz. I got to chill with Rachel and her friend (tho Assad and Casey were lost far out in the crowd somewhere, and I had a terrible time dealing with this one guy, who was being an ass to everyone else too...well whatever). Then, later I had reason to be whooooo - jealous. Yeah. But then very very happy. In any case, the view is great from up top. :(

Yesterday? Lazy afternoon just chillin with good friends. Cabaret. Pulled off a couple great performances, and then finally the cute duo with Meagan... "I don't know any slow songs." "What feeling would that be?" "sigh..." It was Stardust. And then watching and learning how to deal with drama. Man, these people, geez. Go to one party, and there's all these crosscurrents, and I'm like, sheeit, I'm out. Lea's 21st! And then Singers! And walking Emily (drunk off ONE triple black.... hehehe) back to Lea's, and then stopping over at Mayer. That was a short trip. And then back out, going down to Eugene's, and then Tracy's, and then back to Lea's. Weird party - but fun nonetheless. Crazy ska dancing with Lisa! High school all over again! Oh yeah, and so was the dance machine stuff at Mark's. Old skool... sigh.

I said, are you gonna be my girl?

APRIL 21, 2004

Momentous discussions. I'm suddenly feeling so relaxed? I wonder why. Not usually like this. Usually, I'm a nervous wreck (for many different reasons), but somehow the shoe fits right now. It's comfy. There's some giddiness (tho I don't expect to pass orgo by giddiness alone, or what's been on my mind lately...)

I'm gonna miss all those people moving away. Really. I've loved every second I've spent with all of you, and I want you to know that. I feel so human now - I'm desperately missing all those good times. There will be more, but I feel like I've wasted all this good time. Arggh, please stop me whining!

Saw Saved! tonight. Sweet movie. Not quite the anti-Passion, but good... There was an endless hour of incompetent people giving out the jury awards before that. I didn't mind. I had good company. Cute girl from down the hall - yep.

Just thought I'd ask an important question before I went back to orgo. Is it really better to have loved and lost? Yeah, it is.

I actually meant to write about my ability to continuously fall in love with ideas. It’s ideas that’s the killer. Because girls can say yes, or no – but ideas… they mingle out of reach and when they’re in your grasp, it’s only there for a little while, and it’s gone if the moment passes. Like humor. Fleeting. I want to be a novelist some time. It’s so hard, though, because I’ve tried. I write one wonderful chapter, and the fire’s gone. For one, I have to transfer all my ideas into a workable plan to write. And then I have to find the inspiration, the time, the imagination (that’s too often under the influence… too much work, of course). However, I keep lots of stuff locked away in my head, where they tend to fade away into the miasma. The problem is with ambition: I want to do everything, I want to write the great American epic (and I have some great ideas to contend for that spot!). Having no time, I end up with short stories. I am invariably disappointed with the short story, because there is an essence to the novel that cannot be explained within a short story. The sadness I get from reading and finishing a good book extends much farther in the realm of memory than even the most poignant short story. But that’s me. I will ponder.

APRIL 19, 2004

A new paragraph should have a new topic. So here it is: secrets. Secrets? What secrets? Here we go again, the introduction of mystery and importance to something that – in the long run – may not be so important. But to one person, it is of supreme importance, and the respect accorded to the secret by others is but a reflection of respect held for the person who actually holds this secret. Thus, the warm shoulder, the wise counselor, the loyal friend. To these men and women go the secrets that we cannot burden the rest of the human race with. To these silent faces, we open our hearts and reveal the shame or glee with which certain actions, feelings, whatever, affect the outcome of relationships in all their forms. At this point, I sound like I’m lecturing on such an obvious topic, but I’m not… I’m actually whining. Complaining. And yes, this is me telling the truth and admitting it. It’s hard to hold the secrets of others, and a secret of your own, all at the same time. It’s killing me – I achieve redemption by confession impersonally, online – and I guess that’s enough to help me keep this one under wraps. But that’s all. There’s the need-to-know, and there’s the no-need-to-know.

It’s spring – especially now that we’ve passed the barrier of drunkenness and temptations that we call Spring Fling. Everybody’s away message says “flingin!” or “OMG fling!” or “drunk off my ass” or “flashing those poor suckers down in lower quad without the galln of beer sitting in the tub in the middle of my room”. What actually disturbs me the most is the attempt to make some smart wordplay on the word fling. All these parties…Get Your Fling On, Flingin’ It Like A Polaroid Picture, Spling Fring, I Had A Fling With Your Mom Last Night. And all those police! Of course, no fling is complete without all those freshmen clogging up those Beige Block parties and creating the worst fire hazard this side of the Lint Dump. Especially Friday night, when they’re wandering around crashing everything because there’s nothing to do, ever, on lost Friday nights during Fling. And then, of course, there’s the actual sun, whom we have gathered to worship.. we roast in its blind rays and dream that the godawful Philadelphia rain (thank you Bruce for Streets) will go away, and go away, and come back another day. And as we sweat together, it all goes blurry and you pass out, and the orgy of color and sweat and love and sound and Apple Pie a la Mode ice cream and fried Oreos and hot sex and corporate sponsorship continues. As the cool breeze caresses me as I write this, I look forward to another orgiastic time. That’s right. Hey Day.

Oh, don’t let me forget to mention how good Bye Bye Birdie was. Yes, a shout out to myself (music director extraordinaire) but also to the awesome audience (yeah drunken asses) and to the awesome cast and crew (my Rosie, can walk all OVER a mother…, ahdc, hyperactive jess, Conrad’s 1+2+3+4+5). Most of all to my awesome pit. Though we spent barely a week together, I get so damn sentimental. To the seniors that are leaving, I shed a tear. To supreme violinista number one, I say rock your beautiful self to sleep with more of that wonderful hippity-hop music (and I do hope you apply to chi-town), don’t give yourself AIDS and for god’s sake, eat a hot meal! (Take the advice.). To conductatrice, play your piano like the love machine it is. I want to hear that beautiful music some time, when you’re all done. And don’t worry, next time we will use those paper cups. To everyone else, thank you, and we’ll see you next year, when you will play for me. Hahahahahahahahahaha… ahem.

I fall in love too often these days. With the incredible beauty of a sunny day, and the few particularly beautiful people that I see every day… fuck it, I’m being sappy. I mean, I could just go watch Eternal Sunshine a couple hundred more times, because god knows I could do it. Or guiltily watch…okay, not Something’s Gotta Give, that’s too creepy. Not When Harry Met Sally, cause that’s too girly old school. Not Down with Love, because that sucked. Too bad it had good music. Now I can’t entirely pan it. But who needs movies? Who needs movies when one look is all I need until I’m old and grey. Well, that and a candlelit dinner with a bittersweet latin band playing, a wonderful breeze, the salty ocean spray, and the slight musk of roses in the air, and…

SEPTEMBER 4, 2003

I'm giving myself to the end of this week to decide if I want to go into English 135, Creative Non-Fiction Writing. I think I'd be great for the course - I love writing.

So, Molly introduces a topic from the class: a sketch of a place using sensory details (smell, feel, etc.), atmosphere, emotional connections or responses, or function of the place. Here it is...

Standing by the side of the Fairview Township pool on the last day of summer is a bitter experience. It is late; closing time is nearly upon me, and I can't even bring myself to leave my spot on the metallic benches surrounding the pool, replacing the wood ones which had corroded away into green dampness after several years of damage. All I've done for the past couple hours is stare into the waters of the pool. The murky green depths seem to glare out at me, the pungent chlorine fumes from the night's cleaning creating an ambivalent reminder of childhood, of stinging eyes and barbeques and pool parties and family and friends, all gathered to worship, in awe, in the mighty waters of the blue divine that is this pool. I wish that it wasn't closing time. I want these memories to stay forever and ever, but the rock pits and the green slime covering the walls - some in the drains, and some in the crevices along the deck - they call out for a time of rest, when the water is not stirred up into towering demons, splashing their way into fiery oblivion to the dismay of elderly men swimming laps and mothers teaching their little children to finally swim. I can picture the water streaming away, drying up, exposing the bottom to the air and sunlight. It is sad, then, that all I picture is the rust building up on the metal rungs on the pool ladders; I picture leaves settling into the empty bottom and cradling mice and insects for a warm night's rest in this forgotten giant, to be flushed out when the waters are turned on. I see mighty floods ravaging the bone dry pool bottom, bringing back the smell of burning hot dogs, shiny red lifeguard uniforms being hauled out of the dryers to be used, whistles being polished, kids being yelled at to stop running on the deck - then suddenly, I am shocked out of this reverie as the pool man turns to me and beckons for me to leave. It has ended, this era. The pool I knew has descended into memory, a dank shadow of what was once a glorious summer day. As I collect my bag with my bottle of sunscreen, my beach towel and my flip-flops, I shed a little tear for the pool, the summer, and all my memories. I know that I will never experience this again; this plateau between childhood and adulthood - where the pool was a central part of my life, a meeting place with friends, a celebratory romp in the middle of the best summer our little town has had, a calm oasis in the middle of hectic family gatherings - will soon become faded flowers in the overgrown garden of my mind. I sit on a bench by the parking lot, next to a little girl waiting for her parents to pick her up.

"You going home?"

"Yes," she answers, "swimming's all done. You should go home too. You look a wreck."

I do. But that's okay. There's always next year.

APRIL 15, 2004

Bye Bye Birdie

Quadramics 3Qth Anniversary Season 1973-2004

This Spring Fling, don't go see Wyclef. Or if you do, then keep Thursday or Saturday clear.

Because:

YOU ARE INVITED TO: THE 3Qth ANNUAL SPRING FLING MUSICAL PRESENTED BY QUADRAMICS

"WHERE THE JET SET COMES TO FLING SINCE 1973."

AN MJB & TK SPECTACULAR

BYE BYE BIRDIE

DIRECTED BY BRADFORD HODGSON AND JESSICA BRAND

MUSIC DIRECTION BY BYRON KHO

MARCH 9, 2004

Spring Break is almost over. At this time last year, I thought that, in one year, I'd be sitting on the sunny beaches of Acapulco, Cancun, or even the muddy streets of London. Being a realist, I understood that no money meant no trip, and no trip meant coming home. Which I did. I'm not here to complain about being home - no, no - but rather, key you in on a couple important differences than when I'm usually home.

1. I drive more often. I drive everywhere. And while you could say that everyone does that, that's boring - I do it with a bunch of crazy people that I shouldn't drive around town, or leave in ditches 90 miles from home, or make fun of while I'm at the wheel. That cement wall has no sympathy.

2. I'm playing concerts every day. Concerts mean money. Big money. And the schmooze face gets so much practice - so much, in fact, that my smile muscles are so so tired. And all those people! I loved your playing, you're awesome, blah blah blah. Thanks, it was an honor, no, a privilege, you were a great audience, thank you SO much, of course I try, hope you enjoyed it... And that fat thumb muscle is getting a workout! That's the pianist's muscle, if you should know. Also, I get to kick ass and take names, and get all the glory. And once in a while, a hot chick. Yes, the piano is a great stimulant, and somehow, better than that old powdered rhino horn people tell me to use. Yum, baby.

3. Oh my god! I updated my website! Yes, I had time for that. I added some of my crap work to it - ok, pretty good work, anyway, and hope that somebody somewhere will read it and say, this guy doesn't suck as much as I thought!

4. My mom isn't yelling at me every day. She has a job, and is taking CNA classes (I have to teach her all this crap since I did it before) and has no time to bug me. I'm happy.

5. I'm getting so much work done. Not a bonus, just a cold hard fact. Sad, I guess. Maybe this is a minus?

6. I can look forward even more to getting back to school.

7. No more reasons.

FEBRUARY 16, 2004

A Japanese wedding - and then a poignant parallel, to the stiffness of life as a young wife to a husband who's not there, in soul at least - and the stiffness and emptiness of being alone, and the friends you make aren't the friends you think of as friends, but the bitter empty shells that one would hardly notice. They do have some life left in them. And then the view back, a crazy kaleidoscope of color and bubble-gum pop-ery that is so fake that one immediately builds a kind of suspicion of emotion. Not suspicious, but the impression of being suspicious, though we (and they) know exactly what it's all about. It's the one-up-manship of foreign pop culture over American yokeling, on the silver screen. I hear the plaintive cry (though very 14ish) of a fefe dobson, subtle reminders of what can go wrong with overdoing this version of angst: pink. or the other version of angst: simple plan, and sellout incorporated. But in that reverie that is neither soft or dreamy, there is a lyricism that speaks just as loud as a film that leaves all the essentials out in favor of showing the obvious - and then you understand it. No underestimation of my intelligence, or overestimation - though God knows that happens often enough with some films. An intellectual pretense that somehow feels wrong. Oh! that was interesting! He feels empty, waking up to this lounge singer strollin' around, and he opens the door to a spasm of disappointment across her face, though we never quite see it... we feel it though. Something in the way that the sound filters out the door to where we, and she (not the lounge singer) is/are standing, sitting, soliloquizing, feeling lost and helpless and cold once more. Feigned indifference - how come that's always attached to the image of cold? Oh, that makes me so hungry, and wistful of this summer - beauty and shabu-shabu, and an ounce of sadness. "I don't want to leave." I'll always remember the sweating in and out, and the scene at the bar, and the wanton look (though tired) that came out of the woodwork, but disappeared as soon as the elevator door closed (a little giggle perhaps, inside, then a stifled sob). A tired, creased look. Goodbyes are goodbyes, are goodbyes, and to deal with loss is to be closest to having, and loving. Red rims, and this time it's final. But it's happier for having been.

FEBRUARY 15, 2004

2003. 2004. 2005. 2006. 2007. 2008. 2009. Current Entries.