Everything Hits At Once

So, a few weeks ago I started watching Lost on DVD. Previously I had seen one episode--the first one--and I only saw it when it originally aired, so I didn't know much about the show. Now I'm about halfway through season 2 and I'll have to wait until December to see season 3 when it comes out on DVD. While it's certainly not on par with a great show like The Wire, it is somewhat addictive. I've heard that some people think it's slow, but I guess that's the advantage of watching it on DVD--I get four episodes of plot at a time and things seem to happen quickly. At this point, here are some comments/observations/thoughts on the show.

a) I watched the entire first season before I realized that the guy playing Jack is Charlie from Party of Five. I don't really have an explanation for this other than he has short, graying hair now.

b) I don't understand the decision to cast Evangeline Lilly as the female lead. She's cute, kind of, but nothing to write home about and it's possible she's the worst actress on the show.

c) Speaking of Kate, her character is not very believable at all. I mean, I guess all of them are a bit outrageous--especially Locke--but she's really over-the-top. And annoying.

d) Also annoying: Locke.

e) Sayid is my favorite character. And really he's the only one that's close to likeable. Locke is annoying. Jack is too much of a goody-goody. Kate is real annoying. The fat guy is stupid. Claire is bitchy. Jin is trouble. Ana Lucia is mean. I kind of like Echo, but only because he used to be a bad ass drug dealer. And I like Charlie all right, but only because he used to be a hobbit. Sawyer is at least humorous because of all the nicknames.

This is a photo I took in Arizona. Just north of Sedona. Sometime in May.

I have a hard time keeping up with everyone's journal these days, so I don't know if this world has been playing the Sopranos countdown game all spring like the rest of the internet, and I don't know if there were tons of people already talking about the ending or not, but here's my opinion on it--which is worth absolutely nothing.

Even though I knew the last episode was coming, I think it took a while for it to really hit home. Today is the first day in like eight years where I can't look forward to another episode coming out someday (even if there was always a long delay between seasons). And I find that sad.

Over the past few seasons there has been a growing number of people who've made comments about the quality slipping or the show not being as good. Maybe they even trotted out the super-lame, overused "jump the shark" phrase. I've never been one of those people. Those people are mostly idiots. Go back and watch the first season. Not much has changed in the show, and the quality certainly hasn't slipped. Right up to the last episode it was still full of tiny details that made it great. The series always had it's annoying moments (like extended dream sequences), but it remained a consistently good show. If anything, the plots got slightly better after Tony's mom died and Uncle Junior became a minor character.

In the end, consisted is the best way to describe the show. Every episode had it's good points. There were plenty of quirky, droll moments. And you could count on a couple of shocking turns each season. The show never seemed to get completely lost for a long stretch (unlike Six Feet Under, which turned into a soap opera for a while). It's quite possibly the best TV drama ever made (though HBO's own The Wire is probably even better, even if it isn't as popular).

If I were going to make one complaint about the show it would be the long, long, long breaks. From what I've read, it's not because they were so busy coming up with great twists and turns in the plot. It's because they were busy doing nothing and because David Chase usually had to be pressed into writing again. I think that might have had some negative effects. For one, the viewers were waiting for a grand finale that couldn't possibly be achieved. Another thing is that it was hard to care about the show towards the end. When you go a year or two between seasons (or, in this case, a year break midseason before the final 9 episodes), you start to forget things and maybe lose interest. Personally, I'd gotten to the point where I wasn't on the edge of my seat waiting for something new (unlike with The Wire), and there was really no emotional impact when main characters started to die (unlike with Six Feet Under).

As for the somewhat controversial final episode, I may be in the minority, because I liked it. It could have been better. The show itself was fine (although I wouldn't have complained about more killing), but the ending was a bit annoying. [SPOILER COMING] Not that I mind the fact that Tony lived. That's actually what I wanted to happened. With the direction they chose, I just wish it would have ended with them sitting down to eat and the camera pulling back and that's it instead of the weird cut to black. The shows creators have always claimed this is a show about family, with the mafia as a backdrop, so it made sense to end it with Tony and his family together and having a happy moment, with the trial possibly looming in the future.

What I enjoyed is how the show included a lot of odd little moments that have been characteristic all along. Such as:
A) The way Phil got ran over.
B) Paulie with his tanning reflector.
C) Paulie complaining about his tough year and then opening his pants like Al Bundy.
D) AJ, once again getting together with a hot chick who inexplicably likes funny-looking pudgy guys, and then blowing up his car.

Things I might complain about:
A) Not enough emotion involving Bobby's funeral, though I did like that all the Feds were there.
B) Janis and Junior both survived.
C) That the guy who got Phil didn't make a comment first so we could see Phil panic and realize what was happening.
D) In general, I didn't like all the smoke and mirrors, especially at the end, designed to make you think that something big was going to happen, even though it didn't. That was kind of silly. They should have just played it straight.

In conclusion, I can't even imagine another show this good coming along. And there's only one more season of The Wire. And there is really nothing else out there even on this level. Nothing. And I don't see John From Cincinnati changing that.

The other night I had a dream that I was wooing a marginally attractive girl. I believe I was in college or something. In any case, I was certainly living in a building with a lot of dudes, and I think I had a roommate that I was worried might discover us.

The girl in the dream had a boyfriend, yet she had some interest in me, and being the pathetic type that I am, I was flattered by this and accepted her advances without much thought*. In fact, I convinced her to cuckold** this boyfriend. Thing is, after the act was finished, I knew immediately that it was a mistake. Not because I felt guilty about making the guy a cuckold. I just felt bad because I knew I didn't really have an interest in her. I actually found her annoying. Dream Me was just momentarily moved by the attention.

It became apparent to Dream Me that I could not just tell her how I was feeling, but instead I would have to let her down slowly, over a period of a few weeks, hoping that she would perhaps just lose interest over that time and make it easy for me. But just then there was a knock at the door while she was still standing in front of my mirror and straightening up. A voice shouted out that So-and-So had just finished preparing a whole mess of ribs and to come and get them. At this point I quickly turned to the young lady and said "Sorry, baby. Gotta go." And that was that.

I can't even begin interpret what this dream means, but it's worth pointing out that my opinion on ribs is very similar to my opinion on steak. They are really good (or great) less that 50% of the time, but that percentage is enough to bring me back again and again, even though they are typically just average (or even a total let down.)*** To go a step further, I think there is something genetically bred into men where just the thought of ribs makes us salivate. If someone is throwing a backyard party of some sort, nothing can bring men out more than the thought of free ribs. They seem to go with communal eating. So do crawfish and fish fries and even the standard hot dog/hamburger cook out. But ribs always seem to up the ante.

But I'm not sure why. Sometimes I prefer the hot dogs and hamburgers. Sometimes I get ribs at a BBQ place and I'm just a little let down when I'm done, but this never happens with a BBQ sandwich. But then there's the other times, when the meat is tender and seasoned well and it hits the spot just right. And that's why we come back for more.****

*This is certainly not that wild of a concept. I can absolutely name at least one time in my mid-twenties when I ended up dating someone briefly that I had no real interest in just because she was interested in me and I had nothing else going on. Honestly, I'm somewhat surprised I can only recall doing this once. Without much effort I can think of at least 6 other times when I was presented with that opportunity and I did the right thing and didn't lead anyone on. (Of course, there are also times when I might have considered this to be doing the WRONG thing and not giving someone a fair chance before ruling them out.)

**Technically speaking, I believe that term can only be applied to husbands, but I'm expanding the definition for my purposes.

***In case you're curious, here are some other items that often sound like a good idea, but seem to disappoint more than they should: Fried Chicken. Smoked kielbasa. Beef fajitas. Any type of Asian dish with shrimp. Thanksgiving turkey.

****Just in case you're more curious, here is a small list of meats (or meat items) that very rarely let me down: Bacon (though I feel it's rip off in restaurants). Pork chops. Chicken fajitas. A sausage biscuit. Any type of spicy sausage. Country fried steak. Hot dogs. Most fish items. Pulled pork. Baked ham. Pastrami.

It is my opinion that the memory of the occasional really good steak is what keeps people coming back for more, despite the fact that most steak is nothing special. Of course, maybe this is just a personal thing. It seems there are certainly people out there who believe the steak is the greatest thing in the world. Personally, I'm not much of a beef eater (with the exception of hamburgers.) If you asked me my favorite meal, steak could never beat out pizza, fajitas, or even a nice seafood dish. And those fajitas would be made of chicken (or perhaps pork), because I think that meat absorbs more of the spices.

Now, maybe there are steak fajitas that are better than chicken. Perhaps the meat is NOT chewy and it's filled with flavor. I just know this isn't typical, and the average chewy, greasy steak fajitas are not enough to keep me coming back for more. And the same thing is true when it comes to a real steak. Perhaps there are people who really like tough meat, but I just feel like steak is a pretty hit-or-miss proposition, and more often than not it's a miss. I used to think I just didn't know the right cuts, so I studied up and tried different kinds, but the result never really varied. Most of the time I just wasn't happy (and when I was happy, it was usually from prime rib and not an ordinary steak).

All that said, it seems like one out of every ten…or maybe it's 20…steaks turns out to be exceptional. The meat is tender. The flavor is strong. It's the kind of meal you can write home about (or just write about on the internet), and that's what keeps me going back for more. I had steak a couple of weeks ago at a local place and it was nothing special. Before that, I can recall two other visits to steakhouses and one steak at a Mexican joint in the past six months, and none of them impressed me. But last Sunday I was in Phoenix at a Mexican establishment and I ordered steak & enchiladas, and both of them were OUTSTANDING. They were so good that I'll always remember the establishment and associate it with good food. I don't know if I just got lucky or if every single steak they put out is top notch, but I know it made me happy, and I'll keep hoping to find something similar here.

* Special note: this post does not address the phenomenon that is Chicken Fried (or Country Fried) Steak. I would never insult CFS. That dish is almost always outstanding. Even when it's bad (like in a cafeteria), it's still pretty good.

** Please don't ever confuse Country Fried Steak with Salisbury Steak. They are not the same thing. The first one is battered and pan fried and best served with white gravy. The second is baked (I think) and covered with some reddish or brownish sauce. Needless to say, Salisbury Steak sucks.

*** My opinion on other popular beef dishes: Hamburgers - good (sometimes VERY good). Meatballs - pretty good, but they never give you enough. Meat sauce - usually pretty decent. Chili - totally awesome, but you don't have to use beef, as it's also good with sausage or ground turkey or whatever. Meatloaf - I hated it as a kid. I'm not sure what I think now. I don't like peppers in my meat fouling up the taste, but I do believe that meatloaf might be good on some kind of open faced sandwich.

Last night I had a dream that I was driving in my space cruiser and having to blast motherfuckers out of the sky like Luke Skywalker or some shit. Needless to say, it takes a pretty cool guy to have dreams that may or may not be vaguely related to Star Wars movie. Don't be too jealous.

(In any case, this was way better than the dreams/nightmares I had on Sunday night after watching that Wounded Knee movie on HBO. I kept dreaming that I was out cheating Indians off their land by giving them beads, shiny trinkets, and other wampum. I may or may not have also given them blankets containing diseases.)

There's nothing quite as nice as the feeling of waking up and wishing you still had a little more time to sleep, then looking over at your clock and realizing you DO have an hour left...except of course the feeling you get when you wake up and think "oh shit, I'm late!" But then you remember it's your off day and you don't have to get up at all.

Of course, neither of those things are relevant today, as it's a workday, I'm already up, and I'm still motherfucking tired and in need of some sleep.

It's hard out there for a pimp.

I don't write movie review any more, but if I did, I would probably certainly maybe consider saying some of these things about this movie, which I saw the other night...





1) It seems like a lot of critics are really down on this movie, and looking at the IMDB ratings, I guess viewers are, too. I don't really understand all of that. One guy even suggested that this movie wasn't on par with the first two. Personally, I thought the first one was cheesy as hell (and still think that), but the second one was spectacular (probably because it was partially written by Michael Chabon). This movie was better than the first. Of course, maybe I can be more objective because I don't know a thing about comics and I don't really like the typical summer movies that everyone likes.

2) That said, it was a little bit Too Much. Too Much story. Too many bad guys. Too man plot devices. Too many fight scenes. Too many well known actors (did we really need that guy from that talking pig movie?).

3) The ending crossed over in the Return of the King territory. There were a lot of sentimental moments, some tears, and some more tears. I kept expecting Ari from Entourage to pop up and say "Hug it out, Bitch."

4) After a movie and a half of Harry being on the vengeance path, we suddenly have a minor (very minor) character popping up out of the woodwork to tell him he was all wrong. That was kind of stupid. It wasn't quite a deus ex machina, but it was certainly lazy writing.

5) For some reason they felt the need to change the story and say the cops screwed up and never really got the guy who killed Peter's uncle. This made no sense. I realize they wanted extra motivation to make Spider-man go half nuts, but still. Again, this was lazy writing.

6) I can't believe someone would bring in Bryce Dallas Howard for a movie and then rob her of her most interesting feature--the red hair. It's not like making her blonde suddenly made her into a supermodel type--another stretch plot device. We all can see her all kinds of naked in Manderlay when she's having her Mandingo fantasies, and she is certainly not built like a model.

7) Sam Raimi went back to his Evil Dead days and brought in Bruce Campbell for some comic relief. That was kind of cool.

8) Speaking of comic relief, there is a lot of it. Maybe too much. I think what ultimately makes these movies less interesting than Bryan Singer's X-Men films or Chris Nolan & Tim Burton's Batman films is that they aren't as dark or serious. That said, there is enough character development and story to not make it complete cheese, like 90% of comic book movies. It is comparable to Ang Lee's Hulk film...maybe a bit better.

9) The last movie had like a 10 minute section where music is playing and Tobey is acting goofy and it all reminds me of that annoying part of the Butch/Sundance movie that features bicycle riding and a Burt Bacharach song. This movie has an even longer musical section, which I actually thought was okay at first...until a big dance sequence broke out. That was ridiculous. I get the feeling that these movies are going to keep getting campier until Raimi has turned Spider-man into Army of Darkness.

10) Back to comic relief, there was a cool scene towards the end where old friends reunite and it could have actually been one of the cheesy, sentimental moments that worked--had it not quickly turned into a "Buddy Cop" type moment. The next few minutes of action were filled with bad one liners going back and forth like Danny Glover and Mel Gibson...I hated that.

I bet if I go back and look at my last hundred posts or so, roughly 50 percent will mention the fact that I have nothing to say. That's not entirely true--I have plenty to say, but none of it means a whole lot of anything. Of course, that never stopped me before, but now it seems like time is a constraint. Or maybe the lack of constant adulation...which, of course, only comes if you post constantly, or at least comment on the journals of other folks constantly, which I never do, because if I can't find the time to sit down and write out my thoughts when they pop into my head (typically around bedtime), then there is just no way in hell that I'm going to find the time to read about the lives of others. Not to say that those lives aren't interesting--they typically are--but they aren't as IMMEDIATE and REAL as they might seem when you have a few hours to spend each and every day on the internet when you're slacking off at work or trying to kill your lunch hour, as I used to do back at the old job when I lived in South Carolina.

South Carolina...can anyone here remember that? Can anyone believe that it has been well over two fucking years since I left? It will be three next fall. I can hardly believe it myself. It seems like the time has just flown by...and it doesn't seem like it was that long ago that I first established some LJ connections and made it a priority to ensure those virtual relationships flourished. I swear, there are plenty of times when I say to myself "I have to get back in the swing of it...it hasn't been that long...certainly people still remember me." And then I remember that it's been two fucking years (and then some), and that seems like a long ass time. Where has all that time gone? When I moved here, I was a very young 27. Now I feel like a very old close-to-thirty. And when I was away from the computer for 2 months thanks to all the moving, I never was really able to pick it back up...it's a shame. It sometimes feels like I'm missing out on things...surely I am. But it often feels like my life is also very full.

It's funny how life works out.

I can't remember ever considering a life in Texas when I was a kid. Maybe it's a sign of old age, but I honestly don't ever remember wanting to live any place back then. I know I thought about going away to college, but I don't remember if that's because I was eager to leave home, or because I just wanted to go to a school that would make me happy. In any case, I know at least part of me was content with the idea of staying in Atlanta to be close to family, high school friends, and a girl*. Perhaps I had wild fantasies of living in Europe or something. I don't know.

Any way, fast forward 12 years and here I am, working on my third year of life in the Dallas area. Even in college, when part of me wanted to run away and explore new worlds and join the Peace Corp, I don't think I ever thought of Texas. After I visited for the first time in March of 2000, I realized that it wouldn't be a bad place to live, but it certainly wasn't a goal. I wanted to live abroad. Or at least in someplace cool and radically different like California or Washington. Or in the mountains of Colorado (I settled for the mountains of Idaho).

After seven years, my original opinion of Texas still holds up--it's not a bad place to live. But it sure as hell isn't a great one either. It's okay. Dallas is a big city and there's lots to do. In the last month I've been to a concert, an arts festival, a baseball game, and at least one basketball game (probably more). The state, on the whole, has a lot of things worth seeing, though it's a pain in the neck to get to any legit mountains or beaches. But on the negative side, this area is just so flat and lacking in personality, except for a bit of fake hipster in Dallas and fake cowboy in Fort Worth. And the weather is utter shit--hot in the summer, windy in the winder, tornadoes and allergies to deal with all spring. Again, it's not a horrible place, but there aren't many people writing poems about North Texas.

So it's funny that forces have seemed to unite to make this the easiest place for me to be right now. I have a good enough job that pays all right (but less than my education/experience merit). It's better relationship wise. And two of my closest friends are here--both of whom I saw last night at a party in Ft. Worth that turned into a bit of a redneck-fest thanks to their neighbors who like to wrestle and play Skynyrd (and these people are in the trendiest neighborhood in Ft. Worth).

So that leaves me with only one other place where I'm 90 to 95% certain I could be even happier, and that's Atlanta--because I still have a lot of friends in that area, plus my parents. Plus the climate is better, it's prettier, and on a whole I just think it's a nicer city than Dallas. And now I'm put in the weird position that as much as I might like to pick up and move to a place that truly interests me, there stands a good possibility I could leave and like the city better, yet not be as happy as I would here, despite the fact that it has been both 40 and 85 in the last 5 days.

* And out of that group, I now only see my family. You now how it is sometimes possible to google your own name and find it in some unlikely place? Maybe I should do that with people I went to high school with in hopes that they find their own name here and it leads them to me and we all do a happy little dance of joy and [insert witty remark here]. James Reichert? Lonnie Worley? Jeremy Knowles? Meghna Gupta? Where are you people at? Why is it that I couldn't get away from marginal college acquaintances if I wanted to, yet the high school ones are all gone? Does this have to do with when the internet became popular? Or did everyone just hate me in high school? Or is it because Georgia Tech alums are all super geniuses and know how to manage our shit? (I'm not even sure what that last line means.)

I fear that at some point in my life I have become some sort of media junkie. When there is a HUGE story of historical proportions I cannot soak up enough information about it. I'm constantly watching the news and checking the internet for more updates and more perspectives. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Let me make it clear that I'm not a complete, over-the-top, hopeless case. I don't follow just any story. Like anyone with a brain, I was disgusted and outraged by the amount of coverage given to Anna Nicole Smith's death. I can honestly say that I never clicked on a single link to learn more about the story, and I didn't sit through a minute of news coverage. I certainly didn't watch and special features on the subject. I can say the same thing about the alleged Jon-Benet Ramsey murdered that they captured a few months back. I couldn't care less about the gossip surrounding people who are famous for all the wrong reasons. Nor do I care about celebrity relationship or how many children are adopted by Tom Cruise, Angelina Jolie, and Madonna.

But there are events from which I can't turn away. The September 11th attacks are the first thing I can remember. I watched the news for hours that week and constantly read stories on it. Another example was Hurricane Katrina. I'd visited all the cities involved in these tragedies, and I was planning to go New Orleans about a week after the hurricane hit. In both of those cases I still feel there wasn't enough news coverage. With the attacks, the coverage quickly turned to hand-holding and patriotism and revenge. With Katrina, the story just faded away too quickly, despite the fact that many people still needed help and the nation needed to be aware of what was happening.

Things are different with this Virginia Tech story. There is no doubt in my mind that the level of coverage has been absurd. Just when you think the media can't possibly top themselves (see Anna Nicole Smith), they find a way to ratchet things up to a new level.

I admit to being interested in this story. Not because I know several people who attended the school (at this point, I can recall 5 acquaintances, but there may be more), but because it is a tragedy of epic proportion, and it is one that, like 9/11, looks as if it could have been averted, at least on the surface. (Of course, I realize that in both cases COULD HAVE BEEN means nothing--it just is NOT possible to stop every person who seems like they are a little off because most of them DON'T do any harm.) I watched the video of the shooter. I looked at the photos. And I read all I could about the victims (this is the one aspect of the story not getting nearly enough attention.) But it all makes me feel a little sick. I think NBC made the right choice in airing the video, but I also think that all the networks then proceeded to beat it into the ground. And before the video came out, when there had been nothing new for almost 24 hours, it seems to me that the stories about the shooter should have dropped off the front page for a bit and the focus should have been on other news in the world and the victims (though not in an obvious, attention getting way, which is all we're seeing now--Larry King and Anderson Cooper talking to crying mothers.)

I don't know when any of this started. It wasn't always this way for me. Perhaps the growth of internet news sites is to blame. Or perhaps it was just a gradual change in character. I can say that I know very little about the Oklahoma City bombing. Everything I know about the disaster on Everest and the tragedy in Littleton, CO, comes from information I've read years later. I don't even know much about the Olympic bombing that took place in Atlanta, thought it took place when I was in college and was less than 30 minutes from my doorstep (I do know that Eric Rudolph was the culprit, but what ever happened to that security guard they blamed first?)

* Ted Leo. Live. I saw him last Friday night at the Granada Theater in Dallas. I can't think of a much better way to spend $12.

It wasn't a large crowd, and there was nary a hipster to be seen. This might be because Leo has been around for a while and the fans tend to be a bit older than the fashion victim 19 year olds (although not nearly as old as the crowd at Wilco last fall). Or this could mean that Leo and his Pharmacists are not hip enough to draw this hipsters out, who are always looking for the next unknown thing, which will either involved a lonely guy with a guitar or a large group of people with organs, tambourines, accordions, and clarinets. It's hard to maintain your indie cred these days with an electric guitar, an enthusiastic live show, and intelligent, intelligible, incisive lyrics. (Or, maybe the hipsters WERE out and they've just wised up and realized that their faux-retro blazer from JC Penney is NOT cool and it never was.)

In any case, there were many happy people and there was much of Leo getting his Thin Lizzy on by wailing on his axe as if the world depended upon it. Plus, there was witty banter with would-be hecklers and a base player who looked like Bolan, minus the feather boa.




* Kurt Vonnegut. Dead. I typically don't like to comment on this sort of thing here because it's very, very cliché. Somewhat forgotten famous person dies and everyone is quick to write a post about it. See: Ronald Reagan, James Brown, etc. Of course this reached an all time high when everyone felt the need to wax nostalgic about Hunter Thompson and how much he meant to them and the world, though I suspect that less than a tenth of the people who claim to respect Hunter have actually read something by him.

But Vonnegut. Wow. That's one that actually deserves some reverence. Given, he was an old man, it's not as if he was taken from early by his own hand--not that he hadn't attempted that at least once. There will be plenty of articles talking about his legacy and plenty of people talking about what he meant to them and so forth, and 99% of it will be total crap. He wasn't a genius. He probably was an iconoclast. But the real thing to say about Vonnegut is not that he shaped a generation or he had noble goals or he had a dramatic influence on society, because I'm not sure any of those things are true. What was special about him is that he had a unique, uncompromising voice, perhaps most similar to Mark Twain, though not quite as folksy. He didn't really copy anyone else, and nobody can ever really duplicate him because there seems to be very little method to his madness. He just writes what he wants to say in his own fashion without the postmodern pretentiousness that effects way too many authors.

* Woody Allen. Genius. On some level I think that many of the serious issues that are buried even in many of Woody Allen's comedies leave me petrified. It's funny that some people have always accused him of trying to suppress his inner clown when he makes a serious film, because I see it as the opposite--his lightest comedies are just an attempt to please others and hide the cynic within.

While a movie like "Crimes and Misdemeanors" is certainly as pointed and cynical as it gets, it's the films that look at relationships and personal problems that usually get me (as opposed to those that look at the shortcomings of society). Last night I saw "Another Woman" for the first time, and it's one of the most serious films he ever attempted. He explored the same basic premise in "Deconstructing Harry," which was a comedy, and that premise is this: imagine looking back at your life and suddenly realizing all your own shortcomings that you've somehow been blind to all along. Rather than cast himself in the lead role, Gena Rowlands plays the main character, who is affluent, married, and successful in her career. And yet she's not happy--she just hasn't realized it yet. As things fall apart it's hard not to think "I hope this isn't the path I'm on, maybe I better make some changes."

I was reading an article today about advertising and it mentioned that the same agency (Crispin Porter & Bogusky) is responsible for ads by Burger King, Volkswagen, and those Miller man law spots. They also do a lot of other ads, most of which I don't know. I can't say I'd really put much thought into the matter, but I assume that I just assumed advertisers were all competing to made ads that are "edgier." It never occurred to me that it could just be one ad agency behind a bunch of similarly themed ads--that theme being that they are strange and sometimes offbeat, and they are targeted at men.

Of the brands I mentioned, I have different opinions on the ads. I love the Burger King spots. I think the King is hilarious and creepy. I loved the "I Am Man," sing along ad, and I even laughed the first time I saw the new one about Sponge Bob No Pants.

I'm mixed on VW. The "Safe Happens" ads grab my attention. I guess I would call them interesting, because I recognize a new one almost instantly and then wait for the inevitable crash. Still, they seem like a good idea that's not executed all that well. As for their other ads, I liked the ones they had with Dr. Z or whoever answering questions. I hate the ones where they are un-tricking out cars, and I really enjoy the ones with the strange little My Fast guy in the back seat.

There's no mixed opinion on the Miller ads. They weren't offbeat like the others, in my opinion, they were just straightforward, stupid, repetitive ads that got more and more annoying each time I saw them. They were even worse if you had to hear them on the radio. Not a single one of them was funny, and if I ever saw a guy in a bar or restaurant trying to make a joke and say "Man Law," then I instantly hated this guy.

So, I guess if there is a theme that comes from this it could be that I like ads that are somewhat offbeat and humorous and feature weird characters--as long as that weird character is not the fat, old guy wearing a Rubber Burt Reynolds mask.

Still, no matter how much I enjoy the Burger King spots and the King character, I can't say it's influenced my eating or shopping habits in any way whatsoever. And it's not as if there is not a Burger King convenient to me. In fact, aside from a Jack-In-The-Box (also excellent ads), it's the CLOSEST fast food restaurant to where I live--probably less than a 5 minute drive. And when I lived in South Carolina there was actually one within walking distance. And I still don't go there all that much, which makes me wonder how often advertising actually translates into sales.

Soda companies advertise like crazy. I don't know why they do this. If Coke cut their advertising budget in half it's not as if I would forget all about them. And I wouldn't stop drinking Coke. Coke products are my preferred soft drink, despite the fact that their ads are routinely annoying and/or terrible. Still, Pepsi could make the best ad on the planet and it wouldn't change my drinking habits, unless the ad said something like "Pepsi is now one third the cost of Coke." That might make me reconsider. Maybe. But I'm not sure. It's just a preference of taste.

Similarly, beer companies spend a lot on advertising. This one might actually be somewhat effective, because if I'm in the market for bland, yellow, generic, mass-produced, American lager, then I'm probably going with Budweiser. I can't think of any logical reason I would do that, because unlike with Coke vs. Pepsi, I don't think there is a significant difference in taste. I couldn't properly name either beer if you gave me a blind taste test. My palette just isn't refined enough to distinguish between mass produced lagers, which all taste basically the same to me, unlike soft drinks, which are all very different. So maybe I saw enough Bud related advertising when I was young and that led to my choice. Or maybe I just knew they were Number One and didn't want to go with an also-ran like Miller. Regardless, neither company is going to win me over or change my mind with advertising at this point, though I guess it's worth it for the two of them to keep placing ads so they can put an idea into young, impressionable minds who will one day turn 16--er, I mean 21--and buy their first beer. (On a related note, I will also choose Coors over Miller, only because it seems like a much less popular third option, and it's always cool to enjoy things that are less popular. Even Pabst is kind of cool. But not Milwaukee's Best or Natural Light. That's just nasty. There's a limit on how far you can push these things. Drinking the Beast is like topping your buddy who always orders a rare hamburger by just going to the grocery store and eating the ground beef straight off that styrofoam tray thing.)

In general, I just don't see the benefit of advertising unless you're launching a new product or offering a sale. If it's just brand recognition that you're after, I don't think you need to spend that much energy. McDonald's, you have me already, no matter how many documentaries come out about how bad you are for us. To bring this back to the beginning, McDonald's has better fries than Burger King and basically the same menu, so they are always going to be my first choice. Sure, it wouldn't hurt if they made Ronald McDonald as creepy as the King, but it's not necessary.

~ Last night I had a strange dream. I had apparently taken a job interview over the phone and been offered a position. I then took this position, located in Valdosta, GA, without ever visiting the company or having any idea what the job really entailed. I made the journey there in a car with my parents and sister, and during the car ride my sister and I bickered about the advantages of living in a high rise building. Upon arriving at the job site, I learned it was in a strip mall. Also, the company was some sort of start up and I was going to be the head of some department. While talking to my new boss, who had four nostrils, I realized I was way out of my league and not qualified for the job, and I started wondering why I ever took it--and why they would ever hire me, unless the company was so awful that they had been forced to settle with me.

There are many strange, noteworthy things about this dream (4 nostrils?). But the one that I feel the need to comment on most is this: there is no amount of money on the planet that could ever bring me to take a job in Valdosta, GA. I can't think of a single reason I would ever move there. I think I'd work at Starbucks in some generic suburb or some small, western town before living in Valdosta, which is ridiculously flat and humid and not near anything worth while whatsoever.

Actually, as I type this out I'm already having second thoughts. Although it WOULD certainly be very flat, if I could have a much higher salary and a lot of land and a big brick house, maybe I would live near Valdosta. But only if this land was a mixture of woods and open fields. Preferably with a lake. And horses (or at least mules).

~ Maybe this merited it's own post that would go mostly unnoticed, but I did go to the Bodyworlds exhibit a while back (I would link to the page, but I'm lazy and if you don't know what it is by now you should probably stop living in a cave). It was somewhat expensive (maybe 20+ for a ticket), but I can't really say it was unworth it because it's an exhibit unlike any other. Where else can you see dead bodies made into art (sic)? I'd estimate that it takes about 90 minutes to walk through the entire exhibit. The most impressive piece was the man on a horse, where both of them have gone through the whole plastic process. Some of the other neat ones are when you get to see healthy parts next to a not-so-healthy part, like smoker lungs next to regular lungs, or drinker liver next to normal liver, or regular heart next to grease-eater heart. Also, any thing (bird, man, etc) that had everything removed except the bones and blood vessels was pretty cool. Newsflash: we have a lot of capillaries in our bodies.

For those who are curious about such things, there is absolutely nothing gross about the exhibit. There is no smell. There are tons of people and children and I didn't see a single person acting as if they might be ill. It's really like being in a museum with a lot of models--just ones that are remarkably accurate. They also had an IMAX showing on the human body--I don't know if that's the norm or if it's just a Dallas thing. In any case, I'd say that is NOT worth the money. It's 45 boring minutes that basically rehashes a junior high health class.

~ A guy at work likes to use the phrase "Busting Heavies," as a sarcastic quip about being busy when he's not. As in, if he's sitting there doing nothing and you go by and say sarcastically "Working hard to day?" he will respond "Yeah, I'm busting heavies." I believe they've had a similar expression at every place I've every worked. For example, at one place a guy would say "I'm all bowed (bode?) (bo'ed?) up!" Don't ask me to explain the etymology of that one.

Still, I find this one most amusing, mostly because it sounds like it should be the domain name for one of those reality web site, like Bangbus. I mean, is it just me who thinks that if you type BustinHeavies.com into your browser window you should find a couple of skeezy looking guys with washboard abs, tattoos, receding hairlines, and goatees, and these guys should be cruising around with a hand held camera and "coincidentally" bumping into chubby ladies who are all too eager to hop into a car with a couple of strangers and have sexual relations on camera? I don't think I'm alone here. I think you even know the exact type of girl I'm talking about--the ones with bleached blond (or purplish-red) hair, short skirts, low cut tops, a tattoo of a butterfly on their shoulder (or next, or spine), a pack of smokes, tons of cheap jewelry, and an ass the size of Nebraska.

~ I've not been to an actual movie theater since December, despite the fact that the American Film Institute has been having some inaugural annual film festival here in Dallas and many big names (David Lynch!) have been in attendance. But I have caught up on a lot of movies from last year as they were released on DVD. Here are my verdicts:

Excellent: Babel
Good: Children of Men, The Prestige, Tristram Shandy
Sort of Good: The Illusionist, Hollywoodland, Blood Diamond
Okay: Idiocracy, For Your Consideration
I'm Not Sure: Casino Royale, Stranger than Fiction, A Scanner Darkly
Overrated: L'Enfant (The Child)
Bad: Talladega Nights

*+ The local paper today mentioned that successful career women an professional fields (e.g. finance, etc) are now starting to dress in things other than black suits. I was pretty disappointed to find this out. There is really nothing to dislike about a woman in a dark, tailored suit. It's one of those looks that anyone can pull off well--sort of like white button-downs under sweaters.

+ There are some things I can not do in life, no matter how silly they may sound. One of those things is buying a book with a seal from Oprah's Book Club on the front. I just can't bring myself to do it.* Contrary to what you might believe, not all of Oprah's books are cloying, sentimental works that would only appear significant to non-intellectual types like Oprah and the housewives who love her.** There are actually some pretty solid choices from the likes of Leo Tolstoy, William Faulkner, and Gabriel Garcia Marquez.*** Still, the other day I thought that I might like to read "The House of Sand and Fog," by Andre Dubus, but much to my dismay, I could not find a single paperback copy without the Oprah taint. Fortunately I have plenty of books to read--most of them already purchased--so it's not a big deal to wait and hope that an Oprah-free copy of this one comes along. And if all else fails I can go to the public lib'ary.

+ For some reason the other day I was curious to see what movie critics thought about some of the silly, yet lasting, movies from the eighties. I started with "Lucas," my personal favorite, and saw that Roger Ebert gave it 4 stars (his highest rating.) I couldn't agree more. But what was funnier about the review is that he commended Cory Haim and said that he would NOT be just another child actor and he would be around for years to come. That made me laugh. So I looked up "Pretty in Pink," and "The Breakfast Club," and at some point in those reviews he compared Molly Ringwald to Elizabeth Taylor and suggested that she would also become an adult star. Even funnier, he kind of took a shot at James Spader. Twenty years later and Spader is still getting work, meanwhile Ringwald hasn't done anything worth watching in 20 years.

+ It's amazing how some memories stick with you. I'm not talking about memories of a bad choice in life or an embarrassing moment--I could write a novel on those things some other time. The other day I bought some pears at the grocery store. I typically buy a great deal of fruit during the spring and summer, but I can't recall the last time I've had a pear. It's been years. I usually stick to plums, apricots, berries, and the occasional melon. But this time I wanted a pear, and went I got that sweet little baby home I knew exactly how things were going to go down before they happened. Even as I gently caressed it under warm water, I knew how it would feel between my lips. And when I bit it, I was exactly right. I had a perfect memory of what a pear should taste like, and it did. Next up: spaghetti and meatballs. I probably haven't had that in 5 years because I usually just make baked ziti or tortellini or spaghetti carbonara. But I have an itch that needs to be scratched.

+ I think I may have officially evolved into being Not Cool recently. Three or four years ago I first put forth a theory that people lose it around thirty, and I proved this with any number of examples from music and pop culture in general.**** I'm now learning firsthand that even if you are self aware you cannot prevent the inevitable. It's like Oedipus knowing his fortune and still not being able to change the course of history. How does this relate to me? At some in recent history I started doing something I never thought I'd do--I started not liking new bands. I used to make fun of this phenomenon--how every person alive would hit this point where they always felt that things from the past were better and the new albums they bought were just new releases from old bands.*****

So what's happened to me? Of all the CDs I've bought in the last 12 months or so, my favorites at this point appear to be the new Arcade Fire, the new Ted Leo, the new Modest Mouse, and the new Shins. By the way, these are all bands I'd heard of in 2004. And three of them go back much farther than that. I've bought albums by newer acts--like the much heralded Tapes'n'Tapes, for example--but I can't say that I've really gotten into any of them. And, honestly, that's just another example of falling into Not Cool patterns. In two years I'm going to be like that older guy you work with who has a Sufjan Stevens album, but he's also really into Jack Johnson and Nickelback because he can no longer really distinguish between what's cool and what's not--he just knows what gets a lot of buzz so he wraps his arms around it wholeheartedly in a desperate attempt to remain cool in somebody's eyes.

+ In my defense, at a certain age in life you start to realize that anyone who takes any hobby/interest too seriously is probably missing the big picture or they are trying to fill a massive void in their life. There's very little difference between a condescending movie/music/fashion snob and a crazed religious zealot. Similarly, you have to wonder about the sanity of anyone who claims that certain artists or authors or religious miracles made then who they are today. That's nuts. It screams "look at me! You should respect/like me because I read Jack Kerouac as a kid and he was COOL and stood up against the man and SO DO I. Please identify me with this person I've never met and these ideals that I would totally have if I weren't working a 9 to 5 and worrying about what other people think of my hairdo!"

Get real. We're shaped by our life experiences and the people with whom we come into contact. Not by the fact that we read Ayn Rand. Sometimes (oftentimes?) we take these things way too seriously. Especially when we're young. And female. Or a pseudo-intellectual male with shaggy hair and a sensitive nature. Music, books, etc--they're all just entertainment. Even when lumped into the broad category of "art." Art, after all, in more-or-less entertainment, too. It's not like there's a placeholder for it on the Hierarchy of Needs.******

* Full disclosure: I do actually own one book with the Oprah seal on it's cover. It's a copy of "East of Eden." But I did not buy this book--I took it from my parents house. While this is still slightly embarrassing, I can console myself by remembering that I did not actually pay money for this book.

** And they are not all fake memoirs by James Frey, either.
*** Not to mention that she apparently loves every thing Toni Morrison has ever written, even if it's just a dirty limerick on a cocktail napkin.

**** And I've since seen actual paid writers do the same thing--not that it was a terribly original statement in the first place. I believe Irvine Welsh made a similar observation in "Trainspotting," using Bowie or Lou Reed or Iggy Pop or some combination of the three.

***** For an example just look at how aging white people still LOVE U2 and act like they didn't lose it 10 years ago (at least).

****** This is by no means an excuse for people to have TERRIBLE taste. It IS perfectly acceptable to have some top 40 CDs right next to your obscure, underground, cutting edge rock and/or hip-hop. While no one has the right to judge your tastes or tell you that you're wrong, that doesn't change the fact that if you don't understand art rock and only listen to alternative radio junk, then you're probably an idiot.

Last night I had a dream that I was frequenting a whore house. This in and of itself is not shocking. After all, dreams sometimes mirror reality, and I've been taking a Tuesday night trip to this intimate little home in north Dallas for over a year. What was shocking was that I was visiting and NOT USING PROTECTION. Now that's just insane. I don't care what's going on in my life--I definitely would not be having unprotected sex with a hooker more than one or two times a year.

Also, the hooker was crying while we were having relations. Something about how degrading her work was and she was only trying to save up money to pay for her brother's operation. And then she expected me to still pay her even though I totally did not climax. What a gyp.

In other dreams: I also had one that some friends an I were walking through an Atlanta neighborhood that I have traversed many times. Only it was different. It was overrun by gangs. And these gangs got us and they were roughing us up. I got away and the started yelling that they would kill my friends if I didn't come back, but I didn't go back. I did try to call 911, but I kept getting the wrong number.

...can not be found here.

I know the two people who might actually see this post are probably less than thrilled any time this turns into the Big Dennis Book Blog, but I have nothing more interesting to share on a Sunday night, other than the fact that I have came up with a way of making carnitas at home which is quite fabulous, though I am using a bit too much cumin--I shall adjust this the next time and see how things work out.

As for the other, I've read 5 books or so over the last month and a half. And they are:

Little Children by Tom Perrotta
Sex, Drugs and Cocoapuffs by Chuck Klosterman
Horseman, Pass By by Larry McMurtry
The Palace Thief by Ethan Canin
The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon.

I like Horseman. It was different than the movie based on the book ("Hud," which stars Paul Newman). The movie might actually be better, but it's a good first novel for McMurtry--just not as good as his masterpiece, Last Picture Show.

After reading Sex, Drugs... I learned a valuable lesson--that a little Klosterman is more than enough. It's not that some of his essays weren't entertaining. Many were. But after a while you kind of wonder why you should care about the random opinions of someone who is more or less a nobody. Can't I get that from reading a stoner's blog? It's pretty self-indulgent. Still, it's okay for a while, and half of the essays (at least) are good.

Mysteries is the best book I've read in a very, very long time. I really enjoyed it. I can't imagine anyone not liking it...well, unless you're offended by the Gays. Or references to drugs or sex. Or youth. Then you might not like it. Also, if you like happy endings you may not enjoy it.

Little Children was enthralling and I couldn't put it down, but the ending left me a bit disappointed. There was certainly a feeling of "what's the point?" Best I can guess, the authors point is to tell you that life doesn't work out like in story books. Yet he's doing so in a story book. So that's kind of silly. But it was a good book. Now I want to see Kate Winslet in the movie.

The Palace Thief is 4 not-so-short stories (about 50 pages a piece). I got the book because the author had been compared to Chabon--I didn't see it though. For one, I didn't give a fuck about any of his characters. They were all kind of idiots. Canin is a doctor who went to Harvard, so I started wondering if this is the way he looks down his nose at other people in some self-righteous stance. Or maybe that's not it all--maybe he sees these idiot qualities in himself. In any case, there were 4 stories, and 1 was pretty great (the title one), and the others weren't bad, but they aren't anything special, either.

And now I'm currently slogging my way through Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk. I'm about half through and it leaves me feeling the same way as my earlier attempts at his novels. I think he's overrated at a writer and not much of a story teller at all. Not that he's bad. It's just that he's not any better than say, Stephen King. He's by no means a master of contemporary literature who will be studied in college courses for years to come. But I could change my mind--I'm only half through.

Why can't dreams be real? For that matter, why can't nightmares be real? Wouldn't that make life more interesting?

This week I've twice woken up to the sound of my alarm and been greeted by the familiar feeling of dreams being interrupted. These weren't the ordinary, dull dreams that leave you wondering aloud why your mother would ever show up at your office dressed in a gorilla suit. They were the vivid, powerful, almost beautiful type that come along every now and then and always leave you wanting more, so that you're faced to wonder why life can't be more like those dreams. Why isn't real life more like a story book?

I don't know if it's a uniquely American phenomenon or not, but there is no doubt that people of my generation have had their expectations raised due to movies and literature. Show me a reasonably attractive, normal twenty-something who's overly picky about relationships and I'll inevitably show you someone who has a borderline obsession with films or books or music or some other medium that's convinced them that our lives should be filled with powerful emotions and meaningful moments.

The other day I was watching "Stranger than Fiction," the Will Ferrell/Emma Thompson movie that is somewhat overrated.* ( The movie itself is rather trite and tries to be too many things at once. A film can't pull off "deep" or "meaningful" when they infuse it with silly, typical romantic comedy scenes that revolve around cookies.** In any case, there are some likable parts and one thing in particular seems appropriate now. It's suggested (through Dustin Hoffman's character) that some people are obsessed with tragic stories. I know that I actually prefer tragic stories. I don't know that I want my life to be a tragedy, though. I don't want anyone to die and I'm pretty sure that I don't possess enough talent at any one thing to be confused with one of those guys who throws it all away.***

But I think there are a lot of people who DO want to make their lives into tragedies. I'm not talking about the over-the-top drama queen (or king) who always want to be the center of attention and claim that the sky is falling every day. I'm not even talking about the typical, unimaginative Gen-X dude (or dudette) who's either consciously or unconsciously playing the part of Holden Caulfield****. I'm talking about the person who repeatedly gets into relationships for the wrong reason (he's so cute!!) even though they are ultimately doomed to fail because they have different backgrounds or political leanings or family values. Then they wonder what's wrong with the world at the end of the day because they can't find the true love and happiness that comes so easy for Bridget Jones or some Lad Lit guy, when deep down they know they are sabotaging themselves by trying to squeeze a rectangular peg into a oval-shaped hole all because that rectangular peg looks great in her jeans and she's available and lives next door, so who cares if she has three kids and a history of getting fired from jobs because she's a kleptomaniac?

It's all so exasperating, so why can't life be more like our dreams instead? Why can't I find myself eating ice cream with my number one girl and suddenly stumbling upon a briefcase filled with money? And then all my old friends show up, dating all the way back to childhood, and all my enemies also show up and realize that their lives pale in comparison to mine. Life would be much easier this way.

* Why put Kristin Chenoweth in a movie for all of 30 seconds? Couldn't she have been given Queen Latifah's pointless part?

** Come to think of it, this is not the first time this has happened with a Maggie Gyllenhaal movie. "Secretary" goes from black comedy to feel-good romance flick in the last 10 minutes for no apparent reason.

*** Actually, my chili making skills are quite superb, but there is no need to fear, as I do not plan of depriving the world of my spicy, meaty nectar of the gods.

**** See "The Good Girl," which has that other Gyllenhaal kid. [Feel free to insert your own lame, over-done Brokeback joke here].

If this thing were connected to some sort of dictating device that linked directly to my brain, then it would be the best-updated, wonderful content filled super journal that you all dream of. Unfortunately, it's not. So you miss out on getting enough of me to satisfy all your needs and urges. The best thoughts usually come to me right before bedtime. Wonderful, amazing things that would change your life and the world at large. But they're gone in the morning. Frankly, they'd probably be gone if I got up right that second and tried to share them with you all--but I guess we'll never know because Daddy needs his rest and he doesn't get out of bed for anything...except maybe breakfast. So everyone loses, I guess. It's hard out there for a pimp.

In other news, I got the new Arcade Fire album on the day it came out and I have enjoyed it ever since, even though it's probably not quite as good as the last one. It's a different type of album, though there are enough elements of early Arcade Fire there to let you know it's the same band and they aren't attempting some radical new direction. It just rocks a little more. And it's less cohesive...more like a string of songs rather than An Album, like the last one. All in all, I like it a lot now, but I'm not sure how I'll feel about it a few months from now. It might grow old quickly. Even though it has several great songs, I can't help but feel like the songs are all very similar and it might seem repetitive after a while. It almost feels like post-punk indie folk rock by formula--if there were such a formula. It's still different than almost anything out, and that makes it fun.

It just occurred to me today, I think, that when it comes to reading books, the subject has more to do with whether or not I'll like the book than the author does. This may be totally normal, but I'm not sure. It seems to me that many people like authors, and if they like one book by a certain guy or lass, then they tend to like them all. After all, there are many "Stephen King fans" or 'Chuck Palahniuk fans." For years I've always considered myself a Hemingway fan, but, really, I just love A Farewell to Arms.

I just finished reading (in less than 48 hours) The Mysteries or Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon. And I thought it was magnificent. It's about a lost summer the year after the protagonist finishes college where he makes a few strange friends and gets involved in a love triangle. Again, it was magnificent. Chabon is a supremely talented writer, but I thought this was his best book, despite the fact that many people prefer Wonder Boys and The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay won the Pulitzer prize. This book, thematically, reminded me of The Virgin Suicides, in that it was a nostalgic look back at a mysterious, lost youth.

So that got me to thinking, and I've decided that maybe I only REALLY love books (for the most part) that follow that theme. I loved The Virgin Suicides. I loved The Last Picture Show, and that's along the same lines--depressed, young people trying to make sense of their lives, and several other Larry McMurtry books that I enjoyed (Horseman, Pass By and Leaving Cheyenne, for example) follow that same theme. And it stands to reason that all of these books owe something to F. Scott Fitzgerald, because isn't The Great Gatsby the original, 20th century guide to life being a little fucked up and mysterious?

Even lighter books that I enjoy, like those by Nick Hornby, seem to fall into that category, and my favorite all-time adventure type book, Shogun, is about a stranger in a strange land who's just trying to make sense of it all.

So it stands to reason that I've been going about things wrong for years. Instead of getting into an author, reading all his books, and then ultimately thinking he lost it at some point, maybe I should just look for books that follow themes that appeal to me. Of course, I don't know why any of this comes as a surprise, because years ago I realized that my favorite ever movies (like Lost in Translation or Rushmore) share these same themes.