Don't Worry About It

The Launch of a New Era

2009-02-28T16:13:00.000-08:00

It's time to say goodbye to you, dear blogspot readers. It was good while it lasted. We had some good times, shared some laughs, learned some new things. But now I move on to bigger and better things!

www.kadrianalvarenga.com has begun its reign of awesomeness!

What will you find on this new site?
---My movies!
---my photography!
---bigger and better podcasts!
---Don't Worry About It 2.0!
---Resumes
---and so much more!

If you still like reading my stuff (as much as I enjoy writing them), you'll definitely enjoy the blog, especially the last two posts.

Keep it real. Keep it simple. Keep it real simple.

---Kage (www.kadrianalvarenga.com)

The Roman Empire

2009-02-17T14:15:00.000-08:00

My sweet internship has allowed me to obtain a lot of amazing music, so for the most part, these mixes are a compilation of some of my favorite songs from the new music I've listened to, and songs that you should be listening to. Enjoy.

Roman Empire: Hip-Hop and Electronica Make A Baby
1. Shimmy Shimmy Ya by Ol' Dirty Bastard
2. Regulate by Warren G feat. Nate Dogg
3. Charlotte by Booka Shade
4. Black Panther by Crystal Castles
5. Get Em High (Remix) by Kanye West, Common, Talib Kweli, & Ratatat
6. Everyone Nose (remix) by N.E.R.D. feat. Kanye West, Lupe Fiasco
7. Pela Janela by Thievery Corporation
8. Stuck (Hot Chip Remix) by Little Boots
9. D.A.N.C.E. (remix) by Justice feat. Mos Def & Spank Rock
10. Around The World (rap remix) by Daft Punk vs. Wyclef Jean
11. Go (S.T.O.R.Y. R.E.M.I.X.) by Common
12. Life of Clocks by Coldplay vs. Jay-Z
13. If I Never See Your Face Again (Swizz Beats remix) by Maroon Five
14. The Stars by Andy Caldwell
15. Alice by Moby
16. Juicy / New York New York by Notorious B.I.G. vs. Frank Sinatra
17. No One Takes Your Freedom (mash-up feat. Scissor Sisters, The Beatles) by DJ Earworm

Roman Empire: Chill Hippie
1. She's A Rainbow by The Rolling Stones
2. Amsterdam by Peter Bjorn & John
3. Right in the Head by M. Ward
4. Black River Killer by Blitzen Trapper
5. Sugar Man by Rodriguez
6. Skinny Love by Bon Iver
7. Mykonos by Fleet Foxes
8. Operator by Jim Croce
9. Tangerine by Led Zeppelin
10. No One Does It Like You by Department of Eagles
11. So Many Nights by The Cat Empire
12. Crosses by Jose Gonzalez
13. Run Thru (Okonokos live) by My Morning Jacket

Roman Empire: Play That Funky Music
1. Clocks by Rhythms Del Mundo Cuba & Coldplay
2. Gronlandic Edit by Of Montreal
3. Strange Overtones by David Byrne & Brian Eno
4. Bees by Caribou
5. The Steady Roller by Gold Animals
6. Like A Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan cover) by Funk.Soul
7. Crosswalks by Alias
8. If I Ever Feel Better by Phoenix
9. S.E.X.Y.R.O.B.O.T. by The Pinker Tones
10. One For The Cutters by The Hold Steady
11. Impossible by The Shout Out Louds
12. Things Ain't Like They Used To Be by The Black Keys

Most tracks available at my Project Playlist page here.

What'd you think? Any songs you'd like to share? Post them below!

And I Love Her

2009-02-17T14:05:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day! Here's some sweet love music to make your sexy time even sexier.

And I Love Her: Side A
1. Fell In Love With A Girl by The White Stripes
2. Love You Madly by Cake
3. Valentine by Justice
4. And I Love Her by The Beatles
5. Lovestain by Jose Gonzalez
6. Lover by Devendra Banhart
7. The Mating Game by Bitter:Sweet
8. How Deep Is Your Love by The Bee Gees
9. Love Song (Acoustic Version) by The Cure
10. Once I Loved by Astrud Gilberto
11. I Need Your Love by Boston
12. Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen
13. As Lovers Go by Dashboard Confessional
14. Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac
15. You Sure Love To Ball by Marvin Gaye
16. Something About Us by Daft Punk
17. Donate by My Morning Jacket

And I Love Her: Side B
1. Dear Valentine by Guster
2. Think I'm In Love by Beck
3. Make Love by Daft Punk
4. I'm In Love by Moby
5. Something by The Beatles
6. Baby, I Love Your Way by Peter Frampton
7. Lover by Leonard Cohen
8. Love Her Madly by The Doors
9. She Will Be Loved by Rhythms Del Mundo Cuba & Maroon Five
10. Earth Angel by The Penguins
11. One Love by Bob Marley & The Wailers
12. Love Fool by The Cardigans
13. Lovers in Japan/Reign of Love by Coldplay
14. True Love Way by Kings of Leon
15. Every Man Has A Woman Who Loves Him by John Lennon & Yoko Ono
16. For Your Love by The Yardbirds
17. Valentine's Day by RX Bandits
18. Since I've Been Loving You (live) by Led Zeppelin

Any love songs I didn't put on the playlist? Post a comment with your suggestions!

The Sundance Kids

2009-01-21T14:21:00.001-08:00

Utah is a very interesting state. While it is totally gorgeous with its white crystalline snow, it took me a while to get used to the serene and tranquil atmosphere the mountains effused. One thinks of Utah and one immediately thinks, "Mormon." You know it's true (kinda). Upon meeting a Utahan (Utahian? Utahoan? Utah resident?), I learned about some very interesting laws:

A. It is legal to own nuclear arms as long as you promise not to detonate them.
B. Whaling is illegal. (Because there are so many whales in Utah, right?)
C. If you want to drink at a bar, you must either sign up for a membership or get sponsored by the local drunks.

I got to learn such fun facts when I attended the Sundance Film Festival 2009 this past weekend. I got to meet some celebrities (Joseph Gordon-Levitt! Michael Madsen! The Karate Kid!), check out some sweet bars and parties, and see some great movies. Here are some recommendations if you ever get to Park City, Utah, or want to see some great movies in the very near future.

1. Humpday
Directed by Lynn Shelton and starring Mark Duplass, one of the directors of The Puffy Chair and Baghead, pic focuses on the heterosexual relationship between two best friends, who get drunk one night and in full machismo masculinity, somehow challenge each other to create an art porno . . . starring them. Awkward hilarity ensues. I won't lie when I say that I was very hesitant to see this movie. It ended up being the first film I saw at the festival. And I loved it. Shelton handles the material subtly and earnestly. The movie is not a gross-out comedy but a hilarious testament to the loyal bonds of friendship. How far would you go to help out your best friend? Magnolia Pictures recently bought the picture for distribution.
2. Zombie Girl: The Movie
This film was actually submitted into the Slamdance Festival in Park City. About 15 years ago, Dan Mirvish, John Fitzgerald, Shane Kuhn, and Peter Baxter got together to create a festival "by filmmakers for filmmakers." Apparently, that's not Sundance?+ Slamdance has spawned notable directors such as some people you may have heard of: Chris Nolan (The Dark Knight), Marc Forster (Monster's Ball), and Jared Hess (Napoleon Dynamite). Now, 15 years later, the festival still continues its tradition by showcasing this documentary about a 12-year old girl from Austin, Texas, who makes a feature length zombie film. She openly admits that her film sucks as it took her two years to make, but boy did I feel lazy after watching this! She shot, produced, directed, wrote, and edited the whole thing with the help of her very supportive mother. Speaking of her mother, the film's subtext is really about this mother/daughter relationship as they argue with each other incessantly and find inspiration in each other. Funny as hell, this doc was a rare find.

3. Art & Copy
A fascinating documentary about the evolving perception of advertisements as works of art. Doc chronologically charts the beginning of advertising to where it is now, with an optimistic emphasis on digital marketing. The film touches upon every facet from the relationship between copywriters and art directors to the conception and collaboration of creating concepts to the cultural impact advertisements have on us today. Inspiring and influential, this documentary is a must-see for anyone interested in entering the world of advertising.

4. Cold Souls
The feature debut from Sophie Barthes, pic stars Paul Giamatti as, well, Paul Giamatti: an actor so burdened by the world that he decides to pay a company to extract his soul. Then, a Russian soul mule steals his soul and takes it to Russia, so Giamatti follows her to the USSR to get it back. While not a film in which one could emotionally engage with, the film is thought-provoking as it raises several philosophical questions about the nature of the soul and what it consists. In the Q&A, director Sophie Barthes stated that the idea came to her in a dream, with the difference of Woody Allen having his soul extracted instead of Giamatti. An interesting unison of dreams and filmmaking I would say.

I also checked out some sweet bars, so if you ever get on Main Street, check out these places:

1. The No Name Saloon

Like the name, this bar is remniscient of those old cowboy saloons, stocked with modern alcohol of course. Pints are relatively cheap (around $6). However, the main staple of this bar is their world famous Buffalo Burgers. Served six different ways, the buffalo meat is leaner, more tender, and better tasting overall. I had the mushroom and sour cream buffalo burger and although my stomach went into a coma, I had "the hunger" for another one. Worth it.

2. O'Shucks
Apparently, this place was the "place-to-be." I say this because of "the list" one had to be on in order to enter. Fortunately, my dear friend O-Rizzle got me a hook with the bartender James and got us in for free. The bar is known for its schooners of microbrew beers. Schooners are basically huge fucking goblets of beer (it's nearly three beers). The place also had some really decent fish and chips. Adorned with Mortal Kombat and Safari Hunter, this place was a great party bar.

3. Cisero's
Just your typical Irish pub in Utah, complete with pool tables, two bars, large dance floor, and an Irish rock band named Swagger, who ended the night with the inspiring song "I Just Sat On Your Face." I had the pleasue of meeting the bassist after the show--a robust man with a mohawk and a kilt. When I asked him if he was cold because of the kilt, he responded, "Dude, I'm going commando. My balls are freezing."

4. The Star Bar
I had considered the option of going to Star Bar on my first night at Sundance because the Slamdance Festival was having their opening night party there, but I opted not to go because the cover was so steep. The next day I found out that I would truly regret it for the whole cast of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia was present and drinking heavily. Hoping to see them again on Sunday night, we all hit The Star Bar only to find that we were pretty much the only patrons in the joint. It was pretty cool to have the place to ourselves, but as stated in Swingers, "This place is dead anyway."

Sundance was an incredible experience, and the great thing is that it's open to anyone! I got to stay in a beautiful condo, met some really cool people, and really saw with my eyes what could possibly be the rest of my life. I definitely going to come again, but this time with business cards.

Shapes & Colors

2008-10-24T12:58:00.000-07:00

Here's a playlist I created for one of my editing assignments. We had to make a music video to any song we wanted. The only footage we could use were still images of shapes and colors. I chose Daft Punk's "Human After All." Cheers.

Shapes & Colors
1. Magical Mystery Tour by The Beatles
2. Wordless Chorus by My Morning Jacket
3. Destination Overdrive by Chromeo
4. Human After All by Daft Punk
5. Sleeping Lessons by The Shins
6. Everyone Knows Everyone by The Helio Sequence
7. Ready For The Floor by Hot Chip
8. Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve
9. Bodysnatchers by Radiohead
10. Good Morning by Kanye West
11. Don't Worry Baby by The Beach Boys
12. Kids by MGMT
13. I'm Just A Singer In A Rock and Roll Band by The Moody Blues
14. We Will Become Silhouettes by The Postal Service
15. Loud Pipes by Ratatat
16. The Final Countdown by Europe
17. Time of the Season by The Zombies
18. Touch Me I'm Going To Scream Pt. 2 by My Morning Jacket

I just thought this photo was hilarious and had to be shared with the world.

Mistakes and Mixtapes

2008-10-07T12:27:00.000-07:00

I never really know what to do on a Sunday. Unlike most of my friends, I'm not really into the whole Sunday football thing. Sure, I appreciate it, but it's hard to get into football, especially when you're from a city that doesn't even have a team. So how did I spend my Sunday? Naturally, I went to the movies and saw Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist.

I'm pretty sure that Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist was written and made for me. It just hit all the high marks that a movie of my taste should have and then some: relatable characters, coming-of-age comedy, unrequited romance, drinking at clubs and bars, and an awesome soundtrack.

Based on the novel of the same name, Nick and Norah chronicles the fateful encounter of Nick (Michael Cera) and Norah (Kat Dennings) and their wild, magical night in New York looking for the secret show of their favorite band Where's Fluffy. The movie played out like a modern day John Hughes film as it followed the triumphs and tragedies of our musical obsessionists. I actually read the book about a year ago too and was happy to see that the film kept the integral subject of the book while making changes I felt made the story better. For one, it changed the musical tastes from queercore punk to indie music in order to give the movie a sweeter and more lighthearted feel. Second, it removed the angsty tone of the book for a more jaded outlook. Finally, it changed the intimate scenes from one of spontaneous act to a more tender and heartwarming moment.

It is true: music makes the world go 'round. I believe that music has the power to inspire, create, and connect. This movie, while yes I know is a movie, demonstrates that music can bring people together.

Haven't you ever had that moment? You know the one I'm talking about. You're passionate about a band, a band that is so dear and special to you for a plethora of reasons. Then, you meet someone. Naturally, the conversation turns to music, and you begin judging each other based on your likes and dislikes. You decide to take a chance and ask that million dollar make-or-break question: "So, what do you think of _______?" A million replies run through your mind: "They suck. Fuck 'em. They're ok, I guess." One answer could possibly determine the rest of your night. And like that, it happens. That person says, "They are my favorite band of all-time!" Suddenly, you have that connection, and the world continues to go 'round and 'round. Soon enough, you're making mistakes. Soon enough, your'e making mixtapes.

The indie music of this film perfectly complements our awkward protagonists. Cera and Dennings have undeniable chemistry that ignites the screen. They relate to each other on the level of equals as they both are still hurting from severely unhealthy relationships and do not want to make themselves vulnerable to heartbreak all over again. Hence, bands like Band of Horses, Devendra Banhart, Vampire Weekend, and Bishop Allen set the playful tone for the quirky night full of randomosity, eternal optimism, and potential heartmend and heartbreak. This movie speaks to the music of our generation and its avid listeners as they live with generational musical iconography like YouTube, MySpace, blogs, mixtapes, and iPods. It also doesn't forget to pay tribute to the forefathers of awesome rock music as it namedrops everyone from The Cure to David Bowie and gives special attention via a lovely monologue about The Beatles' "I Wanna Hold Your Hand."

I have to make a quick sidenote about the supporting cast of the film. Incredible! Aaron Yoo and Rafi Gravron as Thom and Dev, the two gay members of Nick's band The Jerk-Offs were great catalysts and the logical thinkers of the film as they force Nick and Norah to explore this potential love. Even better, they don't cater to stereotypical gay characters in a film. It didn't define them, it was just one part of who they were. Alexis Dziena and Jay Baruchel as Nick and Norah's exes, respectively, acted admirably as the assholes of the film. We kinda loathed them, we were kinda attracted to them, and everyone's met someone like them. And of course, the Best Supporting Actress goes to Ari Graynor as Caroline, Norah's drunken best friend who provides the film's best comedic moments with her uninhibited shameless drunk antics during the wee hours of Manhattan. There's one scene where, well, let's just say I'm never going to chew gum the same way again.

The film didn't shove their romance in your face. Of course, you knew they were going to end up together as it was a familiar concept we've seen countless times in the romantic comedies of the 80s and 90s. But it was subtle. It was sweet. It unfolded and unraveled in front of your eyes so naturally and magically that by the end of the film, you too had fallen in love with the characters and didn't even realize it, until it was over. Once those credits started rolling, I wished it would just go on repeat and keep playing over and over, like an infinite playlist.

The Last Summer Day

2008-09-23T13:18:00.000-07:00

And so summer officially ends, and autumn inevitably begins. No more blistering hot days, no more sweltering summer nights. No more just work and no-homework. With my 22nd birthday officially two days behind me, what better way to celebrate the end of carefree bliss and the beginning of reality than going to see My Morning Jacket at The Greek.

God, where to begin? It was amazing! spiritual! existential! out-of-body! FUCKING SWEET! After taking some detours along the way, The Cobra and I finally arrived at The Greek at 8:07 p.m. We heard "Off The Record" in the distance and were surprised. The ticket said doors opened at 7:30 p.m. This was not the case. The show started at 7:30 p.m., and there was no opening band.

Fuck, we already missed half the set!

An empathetic security guard heard our groans and assured us that we had not missed much, especially because they were playing a three-hour set! Oh, what bliss. The Cobra and I saw MMJ about two years ago at The Wiltern. This was at the time when she invited me to their concert and I went not ever having heard a single song. I left feeling blasted away by pure perfect music. That first MMJ concert, in the packed small venue on Wilshire and Western, was and is the best concert I have ever been to. The best performance I have ever seen, though, was MMJ at The Greek.

After getting some overpriced Newcastle, we made our way to our seats in South Terrace. They weren't bad as you could still see the band clearly from a high top right angle. We sat down just as they started busting out "I'm Amazed," the first single from Evil Urges. According to the gentleman next to us, we had only missed "Evil Urges," "Touch Me I'm Going to Scream Pt. 1," "Off The Record," and "Anytime."

I feel like MMJ is a time capsule band. It's like they go through the history of rock in one set. They can be soft rock pansies, classic rock shred heads, psychedelic tripsters, alt-country stars, and something that can't even begin to have a label. And every song is always epic in its own way. They are at their best when the song starts out slow and and then builds up until they careen out of control and just pick at the guitar until their fingers bleed.

Jim James was a rock star god on stage. Not only can the dude play, he also performs. During his ambient, trippy songs such as "Gideon" and "Phone Went West," James would adorn his head with a towel, and he would just step into his zone, jamming and grooving. He was in his own world. On bring-down-the-house epic rock songs like "Anytime," "Mahgeetah," "What A Wonderful Man," and "Lay Low," Jim James and company were all over the stage. James and the second guitarist Carl Broemmel would dance around each other in intricate weavings and patterns. James would go to the crowd and just shake his legs and hips as if possessed by some dancing demon or channeling Elvis on coke. And nearly every rock-out-with-your-cock-out song had James and the band performing like they were all on acid. But they weren't. They were just having the purest fun you could ever have.

When they played their love songs like "Thank You Too!," "Sec Walkin," and "Two Halves," The Greek turned into quite the magical place. Around "Thank You Too!," their eighth song, I finally managed to take my eyes off the stage and look around me. The Greek is a fucking beautiful venue. It starts at the main stage and expands in all peripheral directions. The seats get higher and higher, but relative to the theatre, the nosebleed section isn't that far away. The entire theatre is surrounded by large, magnificent trees, silent mountains and the city's twinkling lights. We are completely encompassed by nature. It was the perfect setting for a band like this.

The best part of the show had to be the last nine songs, starting off with my favorite song of all-time "Dondante." I remember the first time I heard this song. The Cobra and I were pretty drunk at The Wiltern and the slow drum beat kicked in, grabbing our attention. It kept going and going and then we heard this almost trembling guitar wave come in. And oh, how Jim James sings in that haunting shriek of a voice. It just feels like he's crooning and howling in pain.

"In a dream I saw you walkin'
Like a kid, alive and talkin.'
That was you.

In the classroom you were teachin'
On the streets you were policing.
That was you.

To the one I now know most,
I will tell them of your ghost like a thing
That never, ever was."

On this second performance, he keeps it the same: he sings those first verses and then a little dancing guitar solo comes in, but it's fucking sexy. I'm just feeling this song, my body rocking back and forth, my head nodding to and fro. The guitar line picks up, playing faster, faster, faster, more intense, intense, intense, and then BOOM! a sound wave rips through the stadium, blasting me back in my seat, and I am cleansed and free. The first time I saw this song live, I was stunned. The second time I saw it, I was moved. Not only did they play the Okonokos live version, they expanded on it, adding a new jam element and more fury and anger. James was just slamming his guitar as hard as he could with his hand and pick as if punishing it for all the sins it had committed. It's time for the song to fade out, and Carl Broemmel brings out his saxophone. The sax sings the final sad notes to Los Angeles and finishes the song.

The Cobra and I knew at this point that we were a part of something bigger than ourselves. MMJ slowed it down after "Dondante" with the haunting love ballad "Librarian." People were falling in love all around us with the Greek, with the band, with James, with each other. We knew it was time to lighten up, and we did. Fate then intervened, and the eerie wahs of "Smokin' From Shootin'" rang through the crowds. Puffs of smoke from all places Greek floated above the crowd. I found that rather ironic.

"Do you feel my smokin guns? / They're smoking from a shootin, smokin from shootin / smokin from shootin / at everyone? / Do you live your life / on the road? / Yeah, losing that I'm loving / Askin for nothing / Running from something that isn't there."

With one comes the other, and "Touch Me I'm Going To Scream, Pt. 2" followed immediately. The band changed all their instruments and opted for synthesizers and other electronic doo dads that contribute to this song's awesomeness. What impressed me most was the light show that they had for this song, as if this is what the song is supposed to look like. The backdrop of the set were these large looming eyeballs in sideways wedding ring cases. The band had at least fifty lights shining on them, four circular lights behind the drums, and blasting strobe lights underneath the drum set. You just had to be there to see it. In a fading motion from left to right, the lights would light up consecutively to the beat of the opening synths. The song plays, and it's fucking beautiful, man. It goes on for what may be minutes but felt too short. Then the song reaches climax. James puts the synthesizer down, shakes his head, and sticks out his hand, The guitar is placed in it, and he tears through the strings by playing a power chord that rips through the stadium, popping everyone's ear drums. The crowd goes wild! Everyone tries to match James by singing at the top of their lungs. He lets out this high pitched wail that shatters souls like glass. They extended the song and gave it legendary status. The song wained and descended ever so slowly to a complete stop. The speakers sounded off with the final four second track "Good Intentions." A crowd cheers over the speakers, and Jim James' voice says, "Ok. Cool." The end. The show was over.

Until the encore ten minutes later.

I feel like a band always plays their best songs in the encore. It's the ones that they know the crowd will love, they personally love, or both. These are the songs that the band wants you to remember them by, because they are there for a reason. They engaged the happy crowd in a sweet sing-along with "Golden." They made us feel like we were on ecstasy or LSD through "Wordless Chorus" and its strobe-riphic light show. They made us dance with Satan on "Highly Suspicious." They made you cry with "Run Thru" and that piercing guitar. And they sent us to imaginary places with "One Big Holiday."

And that was it. The concert was over. Just like that. I've been looking forward to this show since I bought the tickets in May, and it was over in 3 hours. With the said and done, summer officially shed its last ray of light.

On the bright side, we had gotten out around 11:30 p.m. on a Sunday. I was still on a high from the show, and so was The Cobra. We were chattering about the show all the way down hill.

"You know, The Cobra, the night is quite young. What should we do?"

She seemed to have read my mind. "Hmm, we are in Los Feliz, and there is The Dresden."
"I think that sounds like a brilliant idea."

It was our first bar experience.

Inside, we both just looked around, taking it all in, and just reflecting on the experience. It was dark and quiet--the perfect setting for the songs to keep playing in our heads.

It still feels like the concert was just yesterday. It feels like it didn't even happen. But it did. It fucking did. That night was not real. It was as if we had gone to another place. When interviewed by Rolling Stone after their career-defining four hour set at Bonnaroo Festival this past summer, James recalls the moment he got his first guitar. "I was completely captivated by it, like it could take me to another dimension." My Morning Jacket has proven that music has the power to open up your mind, introduce new perceptions, and show you things you've never even dreamed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Post Script:

Oh, we also watched this so bad-it's-kinda-good-but-it-was-4-bucks-so-who-cares-movie called Far Out Man starring Tommy Chong as a stoner burnout living in the 90s. I'm not going to talk about it just to save space, but here's a photo. Cheers.

The Hollywood Dream

2008-09-18T14:22:00.001-07:00

The boys are back in town: Vince, E, Drama, Turtle, and Ari, and they've come back in full swing.

Entourage has always been received with mixed reviews, at least in my circle of friends. The acting is not great, everything works out a little too easily for the crew, and are there really no ugly women in L.A.?

My answer to that: who the fuck cares? Entourage is not supposed to be an Emmy-winning drama or something to philosophize about. This HBO phenomenon is about living the good life in Hollywood. It's fun, and you live vicariously through it (or hopefully, like me, one day). Sure, for story's sake, we need Vinnie Chase and The Chasers to fall on hard times just to stay interested and see them succeed. "Everyone likes a comeback, Vince. Since Britney fucked hers up, you're next," Ari boasts in season 5's second episode. While the plot is moving along quicker than the forever-feeling season 4 to speed up Vince's comeback, the first two episodes are setting up what looks to be a promising 13 episodes.

We find E and Drama trying to keep the cash coming in with new clients and new episodes, respectively. Drama is doing the whole long-distance thing with that really hot French chick that he boned on the beach in the season 4 finale. However, the promise of a mainstream Hollywood film reunites the crew to get back to work. Ari and E fly to Mexico to track down a very bearded Vince and the cuddly Turtle fucking some really hot girls.

Oscar winning material, I know.

The second episode assesses the situation in which the entourage finds themselves: Vince is pretty much a Hollywood leper. No one wants to touch him since the disaster of a film Medellin. But with a new work ethic, desperate to prove everyone wrong, Vince and E read scripts like no other until they find one written by the eccentric pair of writers played by Lukas Haas (Brick) and Giovanni Ribisi (Boiler Room). E wants to sign them, but Ari won't let Vince play lead because it's an indie flick. No more indie flicks according to the wunderkind agent. "It's like the Holocaust. NEVER AGAIN!" Vince hooks up with Justine Chambers from Season One, Turtle busts out a brilliant line ("Well, you've already lied to your boyfriend so why don't you tell him that we didn't fuck tonight."), and Drama gets drunk after blowing up at his really hot French girlfriend and getting subsequently dumped. Oh, and there's been quite an abundance of celebrity appearances with the likes of Carla Gugino and Mark Wahlberg. I hear Michael Phelps and the Cuban goddess Jamie Lynn-Sigler will make cameos in a future episode.

I still love this show. It's always great to see what part of L.A. the boys are in such as visiting Urth Cafe or walking down Rodeo Drive. The show isn't just about a group of guys partying, it's about the city that is built on the facade of stardom, where dreams live and dreams die. The show is still hilarious, too, mostly due to Ari and Drama. Watch for great Ari tantrums where he just randomly throws files or breaks people's phones for no reason--pure agent gold. I've also recently come to the conclusion that Entourage needs to come out with a soundtrack: the episode song enders are always brilliant, whether it be classic rock ("Gimme Shelter" by The Rolling Stones; "Peace Frog" by The Doors), hip-hop ("The Good Life" by Kanye West), or alternative awesomeness ("Dream" by Alice Smith; "If I Ever Feel Better" by Phoenix--the last ep's episode closer). As the first two episodes have proven, season 5 looks to be promising.

It's good to have you guys back.

The Cobra and The Velvet Margarita

2008-09-11T14:07:00.000-07:00

The Cobra has been reborn.

The Cobra is a new found woman.

Finally, The Cobra is 21 years old!

I feel like I've been waiting for The Cobra's 21st birthday longer than she has. I can't tell you how many times I'd be like, "The Cobra, we need to go to this bar. Oh wait, you're not 21 . . . " or something of the sort. Do you know how long we have waited to finally explore the L.A. bar scene? 21 years, you fool. The past year has pretty much been me going to bars and telling her about it. Now, she finally gets to experience what I've talked about. And in typical Cobra fashion, she had to choose the right place to host the festivities. She chose wisely as we got wasted away at The Velvet Margarita (1612 Cahuenga Blvd in Hollywood).

This bar is one of those places that I've always passed and have been wanting to visit. The front entrance alone stirs curiosity with its black awning and bright pink, cursive letters. It just screams "delightfully tacky" (Hooters). The Cobra and her crew were already drinking before Gladly and I arrived around 11 p.m.

I had read on some website that this should be one of Quentin Tarantino's favorite bars because of its unique mix of American pop culture and Mexican aesthetics. It reminded me of a much more Gothic version of the strip club from From Dusk Till Dawn. You step in and are bathed in purple lights. The ceilings are high and adorned with black-and-silver sombreros. To the immediate left was our crew at a reserved table. To the immediate right was a little nook full of Hollywood hipsters. The nook was pretty sweet because it was set-up like one of those old Mexican caves with candles in the crevices. The candles lit up velvet paintings of Dia de los Muertos skeletons and Mexican icons.

Next to this nook is the impressively well-stocked bar. I didn't have to wait at all to get a drink. The bartenders were courteous and made damn good drinks. Now usually, as I'm sure you all know by now, I would normally order a dirty martini, but I figured, "Fuck it, I'm at a margarita bar," so I ordered the El Guapo Classic Margarita with a salted rim. And damn it was good! For me, salt is key to a margarita. The bitterness of the salt perfectly complements the sweetness of the margarita. It got me pretty buzzed too. Suddenly, this 4 at the bar became a 7--it was that good.

The bar is separate from the restaurant although they are in the same room. They're divided by a velvet plush wall. With the high ceilings, velvet divider, moody lighting, and all the skeletons around, I felt like I was riding The Haunted Mansion from Disneyland Mexico. Another bar, the patio bar, is located outside. After you walk down the hallway of velvet paintings of American pop culture figures like Frank Sinatra, Bruce Lee, and David Bowie, you can step out to the patio bar to have a smoke. It was a Wednesday night so obviously the place was dead. When this bar is open on weekends until 4 a.m., though, I have a hunch it's going to be raging, and I'll be contributing.

By the time Gladly and I finished touring the place, the rest of the party had come, and it was finally time to initiate The Cobra into society. We started her off with three Patron shots and a bottle of champagne. She downed them like a champ. The very nice and cute waitress then brought out red tortilla chips with three dips (chipotle, tomatillo, and bean; for free I might add), some apple pie bites, and a delicious chicken quesadilla. Eating said food sobered me up, so I got a Newcastle and 2 more Patron shots.

The Cobra and I downed them. That former 4 that became a 7 transformed into a 9.

Lots of catching up with old friends, 2 more Patron shots for The Cobra and me, and fun was had by all. Nothing noteworthy occurred that night because The Cobra's 21st was enough. Seriously, it was a long time coming. It's really starting to hit me that we're all growing up. I'm turning 21 + 1 next week (no one likes to be 22, let's be real), Boy Band turns 21 in a month, and that fucking word pops up in every conversation: senior. Well, thank God it's only September. There's a lot of maturing to be done, and I expect to do some of it at The Velvet Margarita.

To 21 more years of being those typical 21 year old drunks, even when we're 42.

Happy Birthday, The Cobra.

P.S. Download "Love Lockdown" by Kanye West. I'm a little obsessed.

Tropic Awesomeness

2008-08-21T10:55:00.000-07:00

I laughed from beginning to end. The whole way through. It's been a long time since I've seen a movie stayed consistently funny. It's been an even longer time since I've seen a movie that stayed consistently funny and was also fucking brilliant. Tropic Thunder was fucking awesome.

What's great about this film is that it can be read on three different levels. I feel my claim is valid since I've now seen the film three times.

Level One: The Obvious
It's good to see Ben Stiller back in wacky hilarity. He always seems to play the same guy in all his films: neurotic macho man pussy (does that even make sense?) This film was no different. Yet, he was hilarious because of the circumstances in which he engaged. Jack Black was always a treat as he played a heroin addict jonesing bad for the dragon. Everyone in the cast (Jay Baruchel, Brandon T. Jackson, Nick Nolte, Steven Coogan, Tom Cruise, Matt McConaughey) all contributed funny parts to the film. With that all-star cast, it was like the Dark Knight of comedies. But the award for Best Actor goes hands down to Robert Downey, Jr. He plays an Australian Method actor playing a Black military sergeant. As he says, "I don't break character until the DVD commentary." While he could have crossed a major racial line, Downey, Jr. played it cool and simply offered hilarious insight on the egotistical actor.

Level Two: The Satire
Continuing from The Obvious, Downey, Jr. offers hilarious insight on the egotistical actor by making fun of him. The ridiculousness of a Method actor turning blackface for a role satirizes the stupid lengths some actors will go to learn more about a role. Ben Stiller ridicules the pompous action stars while Tom Cruise gives a little speech about the inevitability of stars going down (was he talking about himself?) Brandon T. Jackson's character Alpa Chino makes fun of musicians with different streams of revenue like energy drinks (cough cough 50 Cent cough cough). You think that they "love tha pussy" but it could all be a marketing gimmick to sell their crap while they "cradle the balls, work the shaft, the whole nine yards)." So many things they say are true. Excuse my political incorrectness but Downey, Jr. had it right: you never go full retard. The satire aspect brings about so many quotable quotes, too. Where to even begin? "I don't read scripts; scripts read me." "I'm a lead farmer, motherfucker!" "I killed one--the thing I love most. Oh my god, you killed a hooker. Ok, calm down, here's what you do. Get some bleach and a shitload of lyme."

But my favorite part of the film:

Level Three: The Self-Reflexive
Did anyone else feel like they were watching a movie? Think about it. The movie we are watching is the movie made at the end of the film. You're watching a film within a film within a film. The sheer fact of the camera pointing towards the audience turns the mirror towards us. It's like we're watching ourselves almost. You see a camera, you see a director, anything that has to do with a movie and suddenly the audience realizes that they are watching a movie. Doing so allows the audience to accept certain things that normally they wouldn't (like McConaughey's random appearance at the end). Because we know it's just a movie, we can suspend our disbelief that much more and appreciate it on a whole new level. On top of that, you had actors playing other actors in the film. Could Ben Stiller be based on Tom Cruise? Is Downey, Jr. making fun of classics like Marlon Brando? Alpa Chino is 50 Cent? Tom Cruise is every Jewish Hollywood producer? Although it was all completely absurd, it was the most realistic film in ages.

Watch the movie. You'll definitely Get Some.

Double Header

2008-08-21T10:22:00.000-07:00

Is it me or are there bars around every corner of Downtown L.A.? That's what I started figuring out last Thursday when I went out with my dear friend Liz Whiz. There were places that we walked by that I had heard of like Casey's Irish Pub and, of course, infamous rooftop bar The Standard (I can't believe I haven't been here yet!). We decided to go to quieter bars where we could actually talk and catch up as she was in Scotland for the past year.Since we're both writers, like to read, and love to drink, we checked out The Library Bar (6th and Hope). For a Thursday night, this place was packed like a can of sardines. It was literally a struggle to move. Liz Whiz and I got our first drinks (gin & tonic and dirty martini, respectively) and made our way to a distant corner. After having barhopped in Burbank for the past couple weeks, it was good to see the Downtown crowd full of hipsters, hippies, young and old, classy and trashy. Some people I won't lie looked totally out of place. This one dude was wearing knee high socks, running shoes, cargo shorts, and a white beater. Oh yeah, he also had a mullet (you know, business in the front, party in the back).

The website says, "The Perfect Escape From The Hollywood Bar Scene." This slogan holds true as it is the Downtown crowd and not as pretentious, but I feel like Library Bar would have been way sweeter had it not been so full. It's one room with a bar in front and a lounge area around books in shelves in the back. That's pretty much it. While a cool concept, the enormous crowd ruined it for me. Check it out on a much more dead night like Sunday.

Having bounced, we decided to get our whiskey on and checked out Seven Grand (7th & Grand). The joint is known for its dizzying array of whiskeys from all over the world, served only four different ways (straight; waterback; on the rocks; sour). Liz Whiz needed to explore the fine list of ales as she wanted to see if they had her favorite whiskey from Scotland (they didn't). However, she chose a very exquisite Glen Guyon (sp?) that felt like fire going down my throat. The place was much bigger than Library Bar as it has two pool tables, a cigar shop in the back, and an outdoor patio that is every smoker's wet dream. I went to this place for the first time back in January. It was a Sunday night, which much to my delight, was also Blues night. It gained a much higher level of respect in my head.

We made our way outside and discussed varying topics from the kick-ass Obama to our most drunk stories of the semester (running through the backyards of Scotland makes for a good story, Liz Whiz!).

And then something happened that I had always heard of but confirmed that night. Like a desperate fucker, I asked a random stranger for a cigarette. This guy looked like one of those guys that was trying to relive his youth but through an older gentleman's appearance. He was ripped as hell, too. His name was Mateo, and he kindly scolded me for not having brought my own cigarettes. When I explained to him that I only smoke when drunk and henceforth drink quite a bit, he laughed and figured I was trustworthy. With that, he asked me what I did. I said Film Student. This is where the magic happens. His eyes widened a bit and said, "Oh! You should meet my friend." I was quickly introduced to two of his friends. One was an entertainment lawyer and the other worked for the E! Channel. We engaged in industry talk while Liz Whiz acted as my wingman as she entertained Mateo. I felt like I was hitting on girls but really was just networking. Maybe the two are one in the same. We all exchanged numbers and Liz Whiz and I decided to call it a night. We drove home blasting Classic Vinyl and talked about the epicness of Row Parties (Pre-Rush will be discussed in a future post) and how awesome Seven Grand is. It comes highly recommended.)

I told Gladly what had happened with the two film guys, and he dropped some knowledge on me: "Dude, bars are the best places to make connections. You already have one. It's called alcohol."

Drinking Russian

2008-08-14T20:06:00.000-07:00

A couple of weekends ago, the great Jelf passed a landmark in his life: he turned 21. Now what's a 21 year old guy in Los Angeles to do to celebrate this historic day? Get drunk, of course. Hit up bars, of course. Jelf planned to do all these things, but on one condition: do it BIG. He got a huge roll out to come, rented a limo, and got us on the list to the kitschy Bar Lubitsch.

The only things this place has going against it are the epic line that permanently adorns the outside entrance (Jelf took care of this problem) and the expensive drinks menu (my flask filled with Black Label Whiskey took care of this problem). With these two weaknesses extricated, Bar Lubitsch turned out to be the sleeper hit of the summer.

This Russian decadent bar drenches you in red light and vodka upon entering the first room. The first thing I thought: "I just walked into a film noir with Russian gangsters. Awesome." L.A. hipsters and Hollywood wannabes drank and lounged and spit game around the bar and velvet booths. The only time I was in this first room was to get to the smoking area near the entrance and to return to the room where I spent most of my time: the back.

The back room is almost like the secret room of a "front" for Russian gangsters. You think you're going to exit after the you pass the bathrooms but then are greeted by a smaller bar to the right, tables on either side, moody dark lighting, a DJ spinning electronica mixed with rap, and a poppin' dance floor. Of course, I had to buy a martini, and yes, it was absolutely delicious. But the kicker: they mix the drink for you but then give you a small, personal shaker to pour it yourself. Either the bartender was lazy or it's some kind of cool novelty, but I thought it was a nice little touch to cap off an excellent Ketel One Vodka Dirty Martini.

After the cocktail, I drank Coke mixed with my whiskey, and I learned something valuable--even if you just order soda, bars are still really fucking expensive. One martini, two cokes, thirty bucks. Fuckin' L.A.

The rest of the night was spent blissfully drunk, trying to pick up girls, and talking enthusiastically at the smoking patio. I learned another valuable lesson--if you start talking to a girl, REMEMBER HER NAME. I found this out the hard way. I had been talking to a really cute girl wearing a bandanna and to be honest, thought it wasn't going anywhere, so I decided to go have a smoke with Bootyhole. Midway through the cig, Teiam runs out saying that he had been talking to the Bandanna Girl's friend and Bandanna Girl was asking for me. I finished the smoke and went back for round two.

Mind you, by this time, I was Flirting Under the Influence.

Kage (trying to act cool): Well, hey there again. Miss me?
Bandanna Girl: I haven't decided yet.
Kage: You've just been sitting here the whole night. Let's go dance.
Bandanna Girl: On two conditions. First, how old are you?

I seriously did consider busting out the line "However old you want me to be," but thankfully whatever sobriety I had left saved me from this embarrassment.

Kage: 21. You?
Bandanna Girl: 27.
Kage: Chance! (she had no idea what that meant) So what was the other condition?
Bandanna Girl: What's my name?

I'm not gonna lie, I was fucking stumped. The bar was loud. Conversation is hard in bars and clubs. I don't know how people hook up at these places, but I'm working on it. I did the only thing I could do: I tried to change the subject by asking her about music. We discovered we both shared huge passions for My Morning Jacket. She saw right through my ploy, though.

Bandanna Girl: Remember my name yet?

I decided to chance it and take a guess.

Kage: Ok, you look like either a Lisa or a Lauren.
Bandanna Girl: It's Chelsea.
Kage: Wow, I was way off. But hey, you gotta give me points, though. You really do look like a Lisa or Lauren.

Somehow, I managed to save myself and finally got her out on the dance floor. I was disappointed, though because A) she was an awkward dancer, and B) her friend came out to dance with us and proceeded to initiate Operation: Cockblock. It was time to move on.

(I fucking love this photo. Found on Google.)

Minutes later, I turned into Rage Kage and took a cab back to the house with Buckner and Kiddo. There, I wreaked havoc upon Flounder in his room (sorry for kicking your bed while you were in it, dude). I woke up the next morning with my face full of leather couch from the downstairs TV room.

The thing I learned most from this experience: the Russians know how to party.

Classic Vinyl

2008-08-12T18:50:00.001-07:00

Heads, up kids:

I've just created a gallery website where I will be putting all my photos up now. Whenever you're in the mood, come check it out. There's a link in the top right corner. The URL is http://gallery.me.com/kalvaren.

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If you ever get the chance to listen to Sirius Satellite Radio, I highly suggest you turn to Channel 14: Classic Vinyl. After chilling at Mumbles' place one lazy Friday, I turned to this station and was blown away by the back-to-back-to-back-to-back, etc. hits they played. Not only is there no-commercial interruption, but it's from a distinct era of classic rock that truly endures: the vinyl legends of the 60s and 70s. I'm talking Zeppelin, The Doors, The Stones, Moody Blues, Allman Brothers, Emerson, Lake & Palmer, James Gang, The Who (a lot of fuckin' Who), Santana, Beatles, Jethro, Creedence--holy shit, man, every song just stuns.

So expand your mind a little. Open those doors of perception. Every band on this station did.

Classic Vinyl:
1. Strange Days by The Doors
2. The Kids Are Alright by The Who
3. Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf
4. Time of the Season by The Zombies
5. Aqualung by Jethro Tull
6. Funk #49 by James Gang
7. Free Ride by Edgar Winter Group
8. From The Beginning by Emerson, Lake, & Palmer
9. Blue Sky by The Allman Brothers
10. Positively 4th Street by Bob Dylan
11. White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane
12. Tuesday's Gone by Lynard Skynard
13. Dazed and Confused by Led Zeppelin
14. Tale of Brave Ulysses by Cream
15. Unconscious Power by Iron Butterfly
16. Have You Ever Seen The Rain? by Creedence Clearwater Revival
17. Celluloid Hero by The Kinks
18. Europa by Santana

Added at 11:27 p.m.

Classic-er Vinyl
1. The Letter (live) by Joe Cocker
2. Obviously 5 Believers by Bob Dylan
3. Pusher Man by Steppenwolf
4. N.S.U. by Cream
5. Speak to Me / Breathe by Pink Floyd
6. Me and Bobby McGee by Janis Joplin
7. Can't You Hear Me Knockin' by The Rolling Stones
8. I'm Just A Singer In A Rock 'N Roll Band by The Moody Blues
9. Livin' in the U.S.A. by Steve Miller Band
10. Show Me The Way by Peter Frampton
11. Fire by Jimi Hendrix
12. Hey Tonight by Creedence Clearwater Revival
13. Ohio by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young
14. My Eyes Have Seen You by The Doors
15. C'est La Vie by Emerson, Lake, & Palmer
16. Black Magic Woman by Santana
17. Why Can't We Be Friends by War
18. I'm A Man by Chicago
19. The Wind by Cat Stevens
20. Summertime by The Zombies

Rock hard.

The Express Leaves at 4:20

2008-08-12T17:50:00.000-07:00

At least 45% of the theater was stoned. They had to be. This was a movie made for stoners by stoners. The movie is obviously meant to be watched stoned.

So why wasn't it funnier?

A couple of nights before The Cobra, Gladly, Natatat, and I went to go see the highly anticipated Pineapple Express, we were all chilling at Teiam's house for a good ol' fashioned kickback.

Sitting around the firepit, Ratfuck began spitting verbal abuse about the stoner opus. He listed several facts about why Pineapple could perhaps be one of the worst movies of the year. I figured he was just being too critical because of its misrepresentation of smoking and smoking-lifestyle. He stated that it was too absurd, too outlandish to even be believable and that the Apatow crew expected the audience to laugh simply because Dale and Saul are stoned the entire movie.

I didn't want to believe him, so I tried to forget everything he said.

Back to Saturday night. After getting psyched and pumped and ready for the pot picture, we eagerly waited in our seats. The film began, and an hour and fifty minutes later, I left the theater with mixed feelings.

Since then, The Cobra, Gladly, and Natatat have all stated that the more they think about it, the more they realize a sad notion: Pineapple Express was not that funny of a movie.

What happened? Usually the Apatow stamp is a clear indicator of comedic gold.

I think there are several things that went wrong with the film. First, let me make this clear, though: while I definitely see what Ratfuck and Flounder were saying about the movie, I don't think it was as bad as they made it out to be. Sure, the movie flops for the most part, but some parts of the film were pure genius.

The first thing that didn't work was that it lacked "the Apatow touch," meaning it didn't have the thing that made it an Apatow movie. Namely, it was not based in reality. Apatow characters are characters of people that you know, or people that you feel you know. When I watched Knocked Up for the first time, I cried laughing and was a little disturbed because I felt like I was watching my friends and me doing the same things they do, saying the same things they say. It's also a story that could happen to anyone: guy knocks up girl, does responsible thing, tries to make it work, hilarity ensues. I've heard people say they were surprised that Pineapple Express was not only a stoner comedy but also a serious action film. I kept wondering, "Why the hell don't you just go to the cops?" Sure, it can be attributed to stoner paranoia, but that's almost a cop-out. I guarantee you that in the face of danger, a person would sober up or at least think more clearly.

Unless it was really really good weed.

Secondly, and this was Ratfuck and Flounder's point: the movie assumes that just because they are stoned means that it'll be funny. Oh look at Seth Rogen fall because he's stoned. Look at him cough and say stupid things because he's stoned. Oh, the hilarity! Just wasn't buying it. It's true, some things were said because they were stoned so it was funny. It should be the other way: first it's funny, so when you're stoned, it's even funnier.

Third, the plot is extremely weak. The ending is very anti-climactic. There just wasn't enough story to keep the audience engaged for nearly two hours. The only other character worth noting was Red, played by the brilliant and up and coming Danny McBride. After the first thirty minutes, the rest of the film is a long overdrawn chase scene.

Lastly, and this is the part that really bothers me: it's a film where the best scenes were shown in the trailer. Don't you hate it when that happens? Trailers are free online and on television; I didn't need to pay 12 bucks to watch a two-hour trailer. The scene where Franco gets his foot car in the windshield--I know that if I had not seen that in the trailer, tears of laughter would have been streaming down my face. Every time I saw a scene from the trailer on screen, I didn't even flinch.

I don't know what it was, but I left the theater wondering where those two hours went. I feel a movie is comedic gold when it is easily quotable. I could and still only can think of two good quotes from the film:

Girl to Seth Rogen: I wanna marry you!
Seth Rogen: Oooh, umm, shit. Yeah, I think I made a huge mistake. You're way too immature to date.

Seth to cop after being busted with weed: It's medicinal! I'm anorexic! I need it to eat!

The movie had its moments. I mean, after all, it was like Freaks and Geeks: The Fucked-Up Reunion with the great comedy duo of Rogen and Franco. Rogen is his typical self: fat, lazy, and stoned. Franco is a godsend--he's like the Jeff Spiccoli of our generation.

But other than that, the movie really, sadly, was subpar. C'mon, Apatow, you know you can do better than this. It might just be that the Apatow train is losing steam. After all, they have just been overwhelming theaters with their movies. It could be time for a break. Don't release another movie until next year(Funny People due in 2009 starring Adam Sandler, Seth Rogen, Eric Bana, Jonah Hill, Leslie Mann, and Jason Schwartzman [what a cast!] looks promising). I'm sure Pineapple Express will be a hit on DVD, with high school and college kids watching it the "way it is supposed to be watched."

I'm sure by then I can remember some more quotes.

BurDANK

2008-08-07T16:52:00.000-07:00

Home is where the heart is, and I guess that means my heart resides in Burbank, CA. Burbank's an interesting place. When you're a kid, you love it. The flag-football rivalries between schools, the country fairs, carnivals, and farmer's markets. Downtown Burbank with its expansive illustrious mall, 3 movie theaters within a 3 block radius, and of course, In-N-Out. Burbank's got it all.

But there's a certain point where you start thinking about how lame Burbank really is. I don't know if I passed that threshold when I moved to college or when I turned 21, but I've reached my limit. When you turn 21, all you want to do is go to bars (says the alcoholic in me). And this is where Burbank lacks promise.

Living in downtown and going to downtown bars for the past three years, I've gotten used to the glitz and glam and culture and sophistication of it. Places like The Golden Gopher, Seven Grand, Veranda Bar, The Edison--these places require a certain stylized wear and attract roughly the same crowds--the hipster eclectic of Los Angeles . . . and really hot girls. Burbank, not so much.

I've hit up The Blue Room about three more times since that first magical encounter with Mel from Flight of the Conchords. Each time has honored the same tradition--drinking and scoping. Scoping is key when going out. You know you've done it: you give the room a quick wide scan to locate the most attractive guy or girl in the place and size up your confidence for a possible interaction later in the evening. What I've noticed about The Blue Room is that when I "scope" out the place, all the bar patrons are way older than me. Observe this quick interaction between Gladly and a female two weeks ago:

Female: Hey, how old are you boys?
Gladly: Around 22. Why do you ask?
Female: Just wondering (goes to girlfriends, tells them, they all start laughing and looking back at us)

Judging by her looks, this woman had to be at least a million years old (or 29 unsarcastically). That same night, two weeks ago, we hit up the Fantasia Billiards Hall and Bar. The place was packed with townies at least 4 years ahead of me. By this time, I was a little too influenced by Cuervo to really take notice of these townies. It wasn't until I went this past Friday for a quick drink before Step Brothers that I became well-aware of the Burbank social elite.

Sitting outside with beers and cigarettes, Gladly and I discussed the differences between downtown bar culture and Burbank bar culture:

1. People wear Crocs at Burbank bars. 'Nuff said.
2. Burbank is becoming dominated by the Armenian and Mexican cultures. There were a lot of guys with hairy chests, goatees, and cheap gold jewelry.
3. I did not see any single girls. If there was a girl, she was already with a guy. I feel that this says a lot about meeting people at bars in Burbank.
4. The martinis suck.

However, the most "Burbank" experience I have had does not involve the use of alcohol at all. In fact, it was a conversation that took place outside the 7-Eleven on Glenoaks and Cypress:

Gladly (smoking cigarette and looking inside): Hey, I think I went to school with those kids.
Kage: The ones buying donuts?
Gladly: Yeah. Dude, they look really stoned.
Kage: Yeah, man. Even the Asian kid looks super stoned because you can't see his eyes.

Then, a super tiny little blonde kid with black ball piercings and his taller, fatter black friend make their way into 7-Eleven next to the two stoner kids. The two small kids could not have been any older than eleven years old. They exit 7-Eleven and start suspiciously loitering near us. I quickly make sure my wallet's in my back pocket and get ready in case shit goes down. You gotta always be prepared, no matter the size of your foe.

Black kid: Yo, man. You smoke?
Gladly and Kage: Yeah, man. We're smoking now.
Black kid: Shit, man. How long you been smoking?
Gladly: I'd say since around 16 or 17.
Kage: 'Round senior year of high school.
Gladly: But seriously, man, you shouldn't start on it. It's not worth it, trust me. We're lost causes, but you still have a chance.

The white kid hides behind the trash can, jumps out, and hits a car with a spit wad from his spit straw.

White kid: Score!
Black kid: You drink?
Gladly and Kage: Yeah, man.
Black kid: How old are you?
Gladly and Kage: 21.
Black kid: What the hell are you doing here then?
Gladly: Oh you know shooting the shit. But we're about to paint the town red, hit the bar for a drink, go see Step Brothers, and then hit up a party in Eagle Rock by some Bell-Jeff kids. Wild night (sarcastically)
Black kid: Cool, man. You drive?

At this point, I'm thinking two things: a) I know exactly where this conversation is heading, and b) Get to it already so I can say no.

Finally we decide to bounce. We say bye to the kids and give them sound words of advice (Don't start drinking until at least college). Then, my forecast is proven true as the black kid yells, "Yo, man, can I get a cigarette?!"

Gladly and Kage: Were you not listening?! NO.

I don't know what happened to my Burbank. It used to be such a nice little suburb and now it's just shadesters left and right. It's like Hot Topic exploded all over the city. It's cool when you're young, hanging out at Fuddruckers and playing Time Crisis. It's okay when you're way older and are raising a family because of the good schools and lack of gangs (so I assume).

But that in-between period is a real bitch.

AC/BeerMe

2008-08-03T20:11:00.001-07:00

Drinking with friends is always awesome. Drinking with co-workers, though, is an experience. At work, people are all about the jobs, and you're not really sure what jokes you can make or things you can talk about or even if you're allowed to talk because you have work to do. After hours, everyone loosens up (give or take a couple drinks), and you suddenly realize these people have lives outside of work, just like you! I had the pleasure of doing so this past week and had a fantastic time at a bar in Santa Monica called Air-Conditioned (yes, it had air-conditioning). This is perhaps one of Santa Monica's best kept secrets--the entrance is not flashy at all. If I hadn't known where I was going, I would never have guessed the place to be so classy inside.

Air-Conditioned is a small wine, champagne, and cold beer bar. I know, right? I didn't know that a bar could be so limited to those three drinks. I hear great things about the wine selection, but I just wasn't feeling like having una copa de vino, so I stuck with my two old friends Newcastle and Corona for the night. As I drank and listened to inside scoop from the office, I noticed something that rattled me. I don't know if it was the alcohol, but I swear I saw a baby standing on top of the bar. It was like an Ally McBeal flashback. I blinked my eyes thrice, took a sip of my beer, and confirmed it--there was a baby standing on top of the bar, being held by I'm assuming the father. The father was talking to the bartender, and my co-worker Toast (sorry, hun, it was just too perfect a nickname) commented that the bartender must be the mother. I thought to myself, "That or he's using the kid as a pick-up." It was just so unusual to see this in a retro-modern bar like Air-Conditioned, with its brown walls, super high ceilings, and DJ in the corner spinning sweet electronica. If you're ever on Pico and Stewart in Santa Monica, check this place out for a nice drink and intimate conversation.

The Farmer's Market

2008-07-30T13:21:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the Farmer's Market with my Polaroid and Canon Film Camera locked and loaded. Here's a small sample of what took place that day:

Hip Hop America

2008-07-29T22:28:00.000-07:00

The other day I was driving around and realized that I didn't have any sweet hip-hop mixes to cruise around to in my lowrider Chevy Camarro with hydraulics all while I smoked a fat blunt. So here you go, fellow gangstas:

Hip-Hop America by Kage

1. Dreamer by Atmosphere

2. Pussy, Money, Weed by Lil' Wayne

3. Get 'Em High by Kanye West feat. Talib Kweli and Common

4. Xxplosive by Dr. Dre

5. Daytona 500 by Ghostface Killah vs. Radiohead

6. Thin Line by Jurassic 5 feat. Nelly Furtado

7. Got Yourself A . . . by Nas

8. I'm In Miami, Bitch by LMFAO

9. Rapp Snitch Knishes by MF Doom

10. The Star by Wale

11. Big Poppa by Notorious B.I.G.

12. Got Your Money by Ol' Dirty Bastard

13. Cunninlynguists by RJD2 feat. Masta Ace

14. Bump by Spankrock

15. Regulate by Warren G feat. Nate Dogg

16. The People by Common feat. Dwele

17. Space Ho's by Danger Doom

18. Shoot Me Down by Lil' Wayne

19. Weed Song by Bone Thugs-N-Harmony

Available on Project Playlist

Strictly For Promotional Use

2008-07-22T15:13:00.001-07:00

What up dear readers,

Just wanted to point out some new things about this dem here blog. As you've noticed, the right side of the site has become bombarded with links galore.

1. There is now an email subscription service for the blog, so if you actually do enjoy reading these posts as much as I enjoy writing them, sign up, and you'll get the weekly posts sent straight to your inbox! It's the best thing since sliced bread!

2. You can also subscribe via RSS Feed or Blogroll, if you have any idea what that is. Because I sure as shit don't, but thought "Hey, why not?"

3. There's a section now called "Ballin' Blogs!" that links to all the blogs and sites I currently read as well as the latest headline from that blog. If you guys know of any blogs I should be reading or want me to post up, send a comment my way.

4. There are advertisements in between posts. I would really dig it if you guys could just click on one once in a while. Click it open in a new tab, don't even look at the site if you don't want to, but just click away. Mad love to all you.

5. Leave comments! I appreciate any and all feedback.

6. Don't be a douche bag like Mr. Anonymous, who tried to spoil The Dark Knight for me by writing all the spoilers from the movie. Luckily, I had seen the movie before I saw the comment.

7. Look forward to my Dark Knight review, my long-awaited Wackness and American Teen review, and more polaroids and playlists to come!

8. Lastly, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has told me they checked out the blog and made a comment about it. It really just gives me confidence to keep on doing it. If you keep reading, I'll keep writing.

Stay classy, world.

Kage

Enjoy It Now Because After College It's Called Alcoholism

2008-07-21T14:41:00.000-07:00

I really need to stop drinking at bars.

Well, not really, but my wallet right now is definitely feeling a ton lighter than it did two weeks ago. Somehow, it panned out that I was able to hit up not one, not two, not three, not four, not you get the point but nine bars this week (one night consisted of going to four bars as it was my best friend Surferdude's 21st birthday). One of the bars, as you've already read, was the magical Veranda Bar. Here's some shortened critiques of places Los Angeles offers to the drinker:

1. Dimples (3413 W. Olive Ave., Burbank, CA 91504)--Wednesday Night

Fuck Dimples. Fuck Dimples because it can go to hell. Wednesday night was the second time I went to Dimples, and it was the second time they screwed me over. Let's time travel back to about a month ago. Buckner, Boy Band, Chickenshit, Jelf (I'm hoping you've noticed by now that these are all nicknames), E.N.D., Cogan, Ravette, and I went for some good ole karaoke. This bar is a staple in the near-Hollywood district. The minute you walk in you are bombarded by kitschy flair and lights everywhere. The walls are adorned by TV screens showcasing either karaoke lyrics or the actual performers on stage. The place is just kind of a spectacle in high quality trashy bling. We went on a jampacked Saturday night littered with groups of girls celebrating birthdays. Rumor was that you had to tip the "Songmaster" in order to sing on stage. We tipped him $40 bucks. Two hours later, as we all got pretty wasted, we still had not sung. He kept promising us we would get to sing, and we kept waiting and drinking and waiting and drinking. When we finally concluded that we would not be singing that night, I said fuck this, stole the bouncer's cigarettes, and stormed out. Everyone followed suit. This past Wednesday they served my friend Pearl a gin-and-tonic minus the gin. There were only 15 people in the whole damn bar, and we still did not get to sing. Fuck Dimples.

2. Firefly (11720 Ventura Blvd., Studio City, CA 91604) / The Spot (17200 Ventura Blvd.) - Thursday Night

I feel like Firefly came straight out of Swingers (1996). You know that scene where Mikey and his friend are looking for the bar, and Mikey says something along the lines of you know it's cool if there's no sign at the front? Yeah, that's Firefly. This hidden gem is probably the best of Studio City. While there's no sign out front, the ivy-covered front is a clear giveaway. What a classy reception area there was! Crimson red walls and velvet red couches adorn the library-themed reception area, which is directly situated across from the inside bar. It only gets better as you are greeted by the outside patio consisting of cabanas and candles on the left, a fireplace in the middle, another bar to the far right, and an A-shaped rooftop that expands to the outside sky and outside greenery. Drinks were about middle-priced with a dirty martini costing 10 bucks and a Maker's Mark Whiskey on the Rocks somewhere around the figure of 11-12 dollars.

Pro: Smoking outside welcome and the food looked delicious
Con: Erratic music. We came in hearing the seductive sounds of Portishead and then were treated to Green Day, Outkast, and Johnny Cash. It was like someone put their iPod on shuffle.

After some delicious drinks, Gladly, Wonderful, Balboa, and I decided that we needed a quick fix, so we hit up local high school hot spot / hookah bar The Spot. Although I'm of college age, I still do enjoy this smoke-tinged, strip malling, Persian-packed palace in Encino. Sure, it literally is in a strip mall, right next to a GNC and Kumon, but it's all under the Valley's skyline, and they offer amazing hookah and Black Tea. Definitely a great nightcap.

3a. Don and Cyn's Hideaway (12122 Kagel Canyon Rd., Sylmar, CA) - Friday Night, 8 p.m.

You know those bars in old western films or those trashy local cowboy bars in modern films? The Hideaway is exactly what you'd imagine, but more realistic: the bartender was this very friendly middle-aged, cigarette-reeking matron; a jukebox occupied the right corner; the back room sported the pool table and darts board; the outside patio held treasures meant to be sold only at garage sales. Surferdude had always wanted to go to this place because it's really close to his house. At first I was hesitant because he had brought a switchblade "for protection in case shit went down," but I later found the place to be quite charming. The schooner special (a huge goblet of beer) helped a bit, too. Apparently, the place gets poppin' on Friday and Saturday nights when live blues and western bands play. For a cowboy-frickin', finger-lickin' good time, and for an experience out of your safety bubble, I highly recommend this place.

3b. Jake's Billiards and Bar (38 W. Colorado Blvd., Pasadena, CA) - Friday Night, 10:30 p.m.

A sweet hole-in-the-wall billiards hall and bar where couples and singles gather to drink, shoot around, and watch sports on the three flat panel TVs. With a bar in the far left corner, fifteen (relatively inexpensive) pool tables make up the rest of the bar. Surferdude and I met up with Kiddo and ordered a round of delicious Boilermakers (a shot of whiskey and a beer chaser, for the inexperienced) and went to play some pool, where Kiddo and I were dominated by Surferdude and his buddy Joe, who came later. The thing that makes this place stand out is the 40 oz. mugs of beer they serve. Trust me, for 7 bucks, these things fuck you up good. And with a DJ mixing classic rock with hip-hop that night and no pool hustlers in sight, a good time was had by all.
3c. Fred's Mexican Cafe / Wokcano Restaurant and Bar (119 E. Colorado / 33 S. Fair Oaks, Pasadena) - Friday Night, 11:45-12:50 p.m.

Surferdude and I were getting sloppy by this time. Somehow the topic of a Flaming Shot had become the focal point of the conversation, so the four of us went on a mission to find a place that served a flaming shot. Alcohol? Fire? Drink? Drunk? What more could you ask for in America? In my inebriated mental state, I somehow figured that a Mexican bar would be the most likely candidate to serve such a drink, so we made our way to Fred's Mexican Cafe (formerly Moose McGillycuddy's). To our dismay, the bar did not serve any flaming shots for safety regulations (whatever the fuck that means). However, the bartender somehow coaxed Surferdude and myself to drink something called the Duck Fart. It's just your typical mix of 1/2 oz. Jack Daniels, 1/2 oz. amaretto almond liqueur, and 1/2 oz. Bailey's Irish Cream. While the shot certainly picked us up (even though it tasted like ass, hence the Duck Fart), the bar was dead. We left to continue our quest for the Flaming Shot.

Wokcano did not pan out. It was jam packed with weird-looking Goth locals, the bar was tiny and expensive, and no Flaming Shot was served for "safety regulations" (whatever the fuck that means). We left after 5 minutes. Not much to say about this place.

4. The 901 Bar and Grill (a.k.a. The 9-0) (2902 S. Figueroa St., Los Angeles, CA)-Saturday Night

I don't know if I was drunk and made this up or I've actually heard it being said, but there's an old saying that says, "If you remember you're night at the 9-0, you didn't have a good time." My friends and I try to live by this motto every time we go, no matter how much we really don't want to go. Because here's the thing about the 9-0: no matter how shitty the place is (it's one room with a bar and some tables, no matter how dirty it is (people sweat beads, people spill drinks, sex goes on in the bathroom every now and then), no matter how bad the crowd is (you're bound to run into an ex-girlfriend or boyfriend at the 9-0, or someone you just hate, because everyone goes to the 9-0), you will always end up at the 9-0. It's that bar that years later USC graduates will think back and look fondly upon with so many memories. Sure, the drinks are overpriced and not that good. Sure, one Jack and Coke will be the gateway to you kissing porcelain. Sure, there's really not much to do there. But in the end, the 9-0 is there for you to get ridiculously drunk, hook-up, and ultimately make bad decisions that will inevitably lead to great stories. The bar is packed with gorgeous girls and fraternity boys looking to forget that it's a Thursday night and they have an exam the next morning. It's a place where college kids get to be college kids. I'm not a fan of it now, but I'll miss it when it's gone.

Just remember, kids: enjoy it now, because after college, it's called alcoholism.

Welcome To A World Where Batman Rules

2008-07-17T13:36:00.000-07:00

The wait is nearly over. Ever since that final scene of Batman Begins, in which Batman is given the Joker's card, I have been anxiously awaiting the sequel The Dark Knight. I have never before been more excited and eager for a movie. I have never heard such hype and buzz about a film before (except say Spiderman 3, although, it is tarnished because of the harsh early reviews). Not only is it a Batman film, it has one of the greatest villains of all time--the Joker. Not only is it supposed to be a great crime drama, it's one directed by Christopher Nolan, you know that guy who did that other fucking awesome movie Memento.

Everyone is going fucking crazy for this movie, so in honor of mad heroes and mad villains, here's a funny article called "The 10 Mental Illnesses of Batman."

There have been many things to have contributed to this madness. Behind every great movie is a great marketing campaign, and The Dark Knight, with its seemingly limitless marketing budget has bombarded our homes with anything and everything relating to this movie. With less than twenty hours before its release, let's take a trip down memory lane and review the amazing marketing campaign of this film. You may remember this first image that was posted about 8 to 9 months ago. It was the first photo of the film that had officially been released by the studio.
I remember seeing this photo and thinking many things:

1. Holy shit, that's Heath Ledger?!
2. Dude, he looks scary as shit.
3. Maybe Christopher Nolan does know what he's doing, especially after casting the unlikely actor.
4. Dude, he looks like a crack addict with smeared lipstick.

Suffice to say, this first photo would not be the last. A couple months later, Warner Bros. released a couple of websites such as www.atasteforthetheatrical.com, www.ibelieveinharveydent.com, and www.ibelieveinharveydenttoo.com which provided some promotional materials from the film and then "Joker-ized" versions of these materials. The Joker's reign of terror had begun.

On August 28, 2007, the first teaser trailer for the film premiered. The trailer had no visuals, only dialogue, and blue lights streaming towards an undefined Batman logo. We heard the familiar voices of Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne and Michael Caine as Alfred, but then we were treated to the first hearing of the Joker's voice: "Tonight, people will die. I'm a man of my word. HAHAHAHA." I fell in love with that delirious cackle and deranged hunger in Heath's voice.

The opening sequence of The Dark Knight, in which the Joker robs a bank, was shown as a preview before I Am Legend. Unfortunately, I never got to see it, but from what my friends said, it only made them hungrier to go see the film.

A couple of weeks later, I saw the first Dark Knight posters at the Pacific Theatres 14 at The Grove. They were Joker-centered and pretty dark, I must say. I loved them.

Finally, the first official trailer premiered. "You've changed things . . . forever," hisses the Joker as the first glimpse of the Batpod races away from us. This was truly one of the best trailers I've ever seen, right beside if not better than the trailer for Spiderman 3. The first video image of the Joker was shown in all its ruthless glory. We explosions, the Joker's crazy cackle, the flipping of an 18-wheeler, and the music! oh the music! It's totally epic.

It's a bloody brilliant trailer. It even won an award (I forget what it's called, but it's a big deal) for best trailer of the year.

Then, a great sadness swept the world as on January 22, 2008, Heath Ledger passed away from an accidental drug overdose. It was the first time an actor's death had personally affected me. I had grown up watching Heath, from his first role in 10 Things I Hate About You to A Knight's Tale to his most revered role in Brokeback Mountain. Along with thousands of others, I saw his potential to be an amazing actor. He's the James Dean of our times.

Obviously, his death forced Warner Bros. into a frenzy as they had to review their entire marketing campaign. Do they continue what they are doing or change it to be more case-sensitive? After doing several forms of market research, it was concluded that displaying Heath's Joker face would not cause controversy or deter people from seeing the film. Now, though, every time I see Heath as the Joker, I feel like I'm looking at a ghost. Perversely, though, his death will probably attract more people to see the film. I still don't know if that's a good thing or bad thing, but I guess the movie should be seen as a testament to his last complete amazing performance.

After that, more posters and another trailer began hitting the public. With less than a month and a half away, Warner Bros. pulled out all their guns. We were hit with TV spots, posters, billboards, radio advertisements, internet advertisements. Less than two weeks to go, you could not go anywhere without seeing something Dark Knight related. Today alone, I went to maybe over 10 movie websites and blogs (I was really bored at work today), and not once did I NOT see an interview or web ad for this film. The Dark Knight has invaded the world.

This is definitely my favorite poster of their entire campaign.

The three major characters holding the thing that means the most to them: the Joker holds his card of chaos and his obsessive target on Batman. Batman holds one of his Bat throw things, representing justice. Harvey Dent holds a campaign pin, symbolizing his desire for power. Overall, it's like each character is holding their ace in the poker game for control of Gotham City.

Other posters and TV spots have begun showing more and more things to get you excited about the movie. One poster shows the latest gizmo The Batpod. One TV spot shows a longer clip of the Joker in a continuous scene. All the trailers and posters have hid something about the Joker, thereby making him an incomplete character, which makes sense because why would you want to see the movie if you already knew how his character was going to act?

Like I said at the beginning, I have never been around such hype and buzz for a movie before. I've had a lot of friends who have already seen it, and they've all said the same thing: the hype is true. It's not just a publicity tactic--the movie fucking rocks.

I've got my ticket for the 1:30 p.m. showing tomorrow at the Arclight in Hollywood.

Expectations are high for the film. Will it beat Spiderman 3's opening weekend record of $151 million? The movie has some elements that may not allow it to achieve this record: it's really dark and not that family-friendly; it has a running time of 2 1/2 hours; it's only opening on a 3-day weekend. However, the film has already set a record for advanced tickets. I've heard that IMAX tickets alone for the film are sold out until Tuesday. This movie, I guarantee, will be the number one film of the summer, if not, the year.

Welcome to a world where Batman rules.

Five Things You Will Notice About The Veranda Bar

2008-07-16T12:02:00.000-07:00

I always thought it was called the Hotel Figueroa Bar until a week ago when I was reading about the Top Ten Nightlife Spots in Downtown Los Angeles in Los Angeles Magazine. For the past two years, I thought that was the name of the bar. I was mistaken. It's actually called the Veranda Bar. Despite the name change, though, this bar is still one of the best hidden gems in L.A.

I first went to this bar around the illegal drinking age of 19 years old with my cousin Tony. Tony knows all the places to go in L.A.--he's "That Guy." And thank God for him, because without his vast knowledge of nightlife hotspots and mixology, well, I'd probably still be at the 9-0 near USC (not that there is anything wrong with the 9-0, I fucking love that place, but it's not the only bar in L.A.--hear that Trojans?). Technically, the Veranda Bar was the first legitimate bar I ever went to, and what a first bar it was! The place exudes classiness. It exemplifies sophistication. It emanates the mood of chill.

The first thing one will notice is that, unless it is Friday or Saturday, there is no door man to check IDs. Before I turned 21, there was many a time that I would simply walk in and just order a drink, just as if I owned the place. That's partially the key to getting drinks as a minor--confidence. Doormen can smell fear--it's like their 7th sense, right behind the 6th sense of differentiating a fake ID from a real one.

Now you know my rule: if it has a good dirty martini, I'm going to have a dirty good time. The dirty martini here is choice. Like all the drinks at the Veranda Bar, the dirty martini is stiff and strong with sweet sweet alcohol. This particular martini is muddied with olive juice--that's extra dirty, just the way I like it ("That's what she said.")

The second thing you notice is the old Angeleno architecture of the lounge and bar area. It reminds me of Spanish deco with its acrylic patterned walls and stain-glass doors. Only one bartender at a time mans the bar. The bartenders are perhaps one of the best features about the bar--they are just so goddam friendly. They wear the old floral . . . I'm not sure what they're called actually. They're like dresses, but they're not dresses because men can wear them too. It's like ancient Spanish ritual shit or something. But I dig it.

Each time I go to Veranda, I ask the bartender how they got to be a bartender there. Each one has provided very interesting insights and stories about the world of bartending. One bartender said she worked her way up at TGIFriday's as a bartender, then started dating the manager of Hotel Figueroa. He hired her, they broke up, he got fired, and she got promoted. Funny world, huh?

Another guy wanted to be an actor (in L.A., surprise, surprise), but obviously it didn't work out. He was friends with a club promoter, who got him a job as a barback at Area. He then started practicing making drinks after hours with the bartenders. One of the bartenders landed a gig at the Veranda Bar. When he got sick, he called up this guy, the guy filled in. He did such a great job that they hired him two weeks later. Funny world huh?

The third thing you'll notice about the Veranda Bar, and perhaps its best feature, is the outside lounge by the pool. It is quite a sight to see. Although the area is relatively small, it evokes a cozy feeling of comfort and warmth. The small pool is the centerpiece of the outside patio as the tables surround it on all sides. Chinese lanterns hang from the trees, single candles adorn each table for 2-4 people, the pool's light glows different colors (blue to green to purple to pink to blue again, etc.). All this plus the bright lights of the visceral L.A. skyline give off a sheer romantic and chill atmosphere.

The fourth thing you will notice is the crowd. This is not a party bar. It's a bar for great people and great conversation. Groups can range from 2 to 30 people. They usually are a mix of hipsters, tourists, intellectuals, hotel guests, and sports fans coming back from games at the Staples Center. It's a really good crowd, just laidback, no drama. And there's always a story. Last night, for example, I was with, well, let's just call her Wonderful, and we saw various groups of people, as I always do here. So there's this group of around 15 people--kind of a sausage fest with 4 girls and 11 guys. Wonderful offers to buy the next round and walks to the bar. Meanwhile, a woman is carefully holding the hand of another girl, who seems to be stumbling and slurring her speech. They walk right by me, and I catch wind of their conversation.

The Slurrer: Oh ma fuggin gawd, I can't buhlieve I gots so drunk toonite.
Other Girl: It's okay, honey, it's your birthday. You're supposed to be drunk.
Kage: Hell yeah you are!
The Slurrer: Hellz ya! Wait, it's ma birfday?

I won't lie when I say I laughed the whole time it took Wonderful to come back with the drinks.

The fifth thing you'll notice is something that you won't notice for a while because it is "so unL.A." The bar is hidden behind the three buildings on Figueroa and Olympic that always have a three-piece advertisement. Currently, they have a huge advertisement for Tropic Thunder with Jack Black, Ben Stiller, and Robert Downey, Jr. on each building, respectively. So you're sitting outside, hidden behind these large buildings, it's an open area, and all the sudden, it hits you: you're in the middle of Downtown Los Angeles. How does this oasis thrive in the most urban of jungles?

Well, that's the thing about Los Angeles. It's not your typical beauty. Where some would say that natural beauty derives from forests and nature and grass and flowers and rivers, I say fuck that. Los Angeles is beautiful in its own industrial right. The architecture and lights of the buildings, the color the sky turns because of the chemistry of smog and sunlight, the hidden alleyways, the rows and rows of traffic on the freeway, the vegetation that pokes its head out for some air, the people alone. Los Angeles is a place where different ideas, no matter how contradictory, can come together in synergy and make something lovely out of something ugly. It's befitting that this alcoholic Garden of Eden would hide among the giant towers, crescendo police sirens, and starless sky.

Each time I go to the Veranda Bar, each experience is more enjoyable than the last. The second time I went was for my buddy Internal's 21st birthday. We and two other pledge bros spent the night smoking cigars and drinking whiskey. We talked about the future and the possibilities that awaited us with this whole new world of 21 year old manhood at our fingertips. The third time I went was on a blind date--I can happily (hopefully) say that she was mighty impressed. The last time I went, last night, was with Wonderful, and well, the night was wonderful.

If you ever wanna get drunk at heaven, all you have to do is find the secret spot on Figueroa and Olympic.

Now Entering The Third Dimension

2008-07-15T13:14:00.000-07:00

I write this with full confidence and no hesitation: go see Journey to the Center of the Earth 3-D. Nay, scratch that: go get stoned and go see Journey to the Center of the Earth 3-D. Forget all your hesitations, your expectations, and what you have heard about this film. I guarantee that you will have the best fucking time watching this movie.

Don't get me wrong, now. The actual movie is a piece of shit--the 2-D version anyway. But I didn't go to see this movie for the plot or the acting. I went for the experience.

Originally, my best friend The Cobra and I were planning on seeing Hellboy 2: The Golden Army (which I saw the next day and enjoyed it on a purely entertaining level), but once we realized the potential greatness of the 3-D experience, we threw all caution to the wind and purchased our tickets. Sure, it was $2 more above the ticket price, but hey, you get to keep the Ray Ban-like sunglasses, so that's cool, I guess.

We started off with a preview for Step Brothers (not in 3-D, but it actually looks pretty decent). Then, the screen projected the following words: "Please put on your 3-D glasses." I put them on but thought, "We were only going to be treated to one preview? Fuck that." I was wrong. All the sudden, a large animated rocket came roaring towards my face! This was a preview for Summit Entertainment's upcoming animated flick Fly Me To The Moon 3-D. My eyes were still adjusting to the 3-D look of the film, but from what I gathered, the film is about a trio of insect flies that accompany Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldron on the first mission to the moon. Animated insects? Comedy? Space? 3-D? I'm in. The next preview was for Disney's Bolt 3-D, starring the voices of John Travolta and Miley Cyrus. I saw this preview in 2-D before and thought it looked entertaining, so I can only imagine how much more awesome it will be in 3-D.

And then, the film began.

The opening credits alone rocked my socks as the title blazed onto the screen in large gold ancient lettering. The title then started speeding towards me, growing bigger and bigger until my peripherals were encompassed by its sheer magnitude. Let me state again: this was only the title sequence!

Soon, we were subjected to an intense dream sequence involving large bugs, whose antenna feelers threatened to tickle my nose. Animated as well, this scene was nothing new as I had just experienced 15 minutes of previews of animated 3-D. Then came the experience that I have only experienced at Disneyland's Honey, I Shrunk The Audience 4-D: live action 3-D entertainment! I was thrown off. There, on the big screen stands Brendan Fraser brushing his teeth, but something about him is different. Then, the screen cuts to the point of the view of the sink. Fraser looks down at the screen (at the audience) and spits all over the sink (the audience). For a brief moment, I was scared, grossed out, and excited to see Brendan Fraser's spit coming right towards me. I half-expected the seat in front of me to spray water on my face like when the giant dog sneezes in Honey, I Shrunk The Audience. The Cobra and I could not stop laughing at how ridiculous this experience was going to be.

And the film continued to be awesome, especially when we got to the real meat of the story: the center of the Earth. Dinosaurs tried to eat us, glow-in-the-dark birds flew around our heads (at one point, I actually reached out and tried to grab one of them), yo-yos and measuring tapes slapped us in the face. There was even a part where they ride coal mine cars, and the audience is treated to a rollercoaster experience: think Back To The Future: The Ride meets Thunder Mountain. I'm telling you, this movie was fucking awesome. It was like a 2 hour thrill ride from an amusement park.

Overall, the whole movie was a surreal experience. I could not help thinking how I thought that I was a part of the movie. I could not help thinking that I could get up from my seat and step into the movie. I could not help thinking that there were giant versions of Brendan Fraser and Seth Meyers living this fantastical life right in front of me but never really noticing me. The depth of perception in the film was incredible. You could actually feel the distances between point A and point B. Even the scenes of simply dialogue and plot movement were incredible because they felt like well-developed 3rd dimensional characters.

It was a truly interactive feeling.

Forget the old days of those red-and-blue lens glasses. The old way of creating 3-D images was to use two different projects to screen the same image that would then filter through the polarized glasses. However, if you tilted your head, the 3-D image would be lost. RealD 3-D, however, uses a single projector to display two frames: one for the left eye and one for the right eye. The frames are sequenced and then triple flashed to eliminate flickering and create smooth motion. The glasses combine the polarized light streams, allowing the viewer to see the 3-D image fron any seat in the theater. The result: a 3-D image that seems to extend behind and in front of the screen itself.

Journey to the Center of the Earth 3-D marks a truly triumphant pinpoint in cinematic history as it is the first live-action film to be filmed in RealD 3-D technology. If this is any indicator of what the future holds, I will go see every 3-D movie that comes out in the future, animated or live-action. They have even had concerts in 3-D such as U2 and Miley Cyrus. We get to look forward to DreamWorks' Monsters vs. Aliens, Toy Story, Nightmare Before Christmas, Alice in Wonderland, and the most anticipated film of 2009 James Cameron's Avatar, set on alien planet, in which Cameron actually created an entirely new language just for the film. RealD has also claimed that its end goal is to one day have all media in 3-D format. Imagine this: DVD's , television live programming, Internet streaming, all in 3-D. I could go home, put on Scarface or Star Wars, and soon there would be bullets or lightsabers whirling around my head. Pretty soon the surreal will become extremely real, at least virtually.

Watching a movie in 3-D was like the first time I ever saw television in HD (High Definition). Once I saw the much better quality, I could not go back to regular TV. Watching Hellboy 2 was almost bland compared to the 3-D entertainment I had sat through only 12 hours before. I kinda feel like I can never watch a regular 2-D movie again, although I'll have to, of course.

Who knew that all this awesomeness could come from a Brendan Fraser flick?

Lucy, I'm Home. . . and Drunk!

2008-07-11T13:35:00.000-07:00

From the outside, Lucy's 51 looked like a "noir bar" because it reminds me of the kind of bars you see in Los Angeles film noir. It has the seedy red lighting, swanky velvet furniture, and frogs on the ceiling(?). No, really--there are plastic frogs glued to the ceiling.

For a classy place, Lucy's 51, located on Riverside and Forman in Toluca Lake, was not very happening last night. We had a good group (ok, it was a sausage fest with 6 guys and two girls--don't act like it's never happened to you) that was pretty sauced up from drinks at Mo's down the street, but it seemed like we were the only people there. People would walk in for five seconds and then peace. Thursday night is usually party night in my circle of friends, so it was different (read: nice) to just relax, chat, and drink.

I've always heard great things about this place. The first time I went was with my cousin Tony, and boy was this place hopping. The stereos blasted classic rock (the best bar music ever! Well, jazz gives it a run for its money, depending on location), we were already drunk, and the Toluca Lake girls were gorgeous. We had gone to the Whiskey Bend in Burbank, which is fucking shit, so anything was better than the Bend when compared. Here's the thing, though: this first time was also on a Thursday night. I guess Lucy's 51 is a sporadic bar--sometimes it rocks, sometimes it doesn't.

Martini's are the drinks of choice at Lucy's 51. The list is huge and diverse. They mix anything from blueberries to mojito mix to peach schnapps to, I wouldn't be surprised if they had Benzoil. The dirty martini is my favorite drink, so I like to order it at every bar I go to just to see how it compares to others. I figure, you make a good dirty martini, I'm gonna have a good time. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time last night, but that drink was shit. It didn't taste like vodka or olives. Actually, it kinda tasted like rubber to be honest. I still drank it, but my liver felt elastic on the drive home. I hear the food is pretty good, but we didn't get around to it.

Credit card holders beware: there is a $10 minimum on credit cards, so if you order one drink, well, you might as well order two. Coincidentally (read: sarcasm), the martinis are priced at exactly $9. My last drinks were two Newcastles, not that I'm complaining or anything.

No one really noticed when we left, but it was still a good atmosphere to be a part of. I say, if you're in the neighborhood and have some time to kill, go in and have a drink. But it's not something worth making a trip for.

No Blues at The Blue Room

2008-07-10T13:51:00.000-07:00

The name is not a misnomer. The Blue Room, a small dive bar in Burbank, really is blue. Located on San Fernando and Alameda, right across from Hollywood Video, and adorned by a steel entrance, this hole-in-the-wall of a gem is the perfect place for happy hour, drinks after work, or alcoholics looking for a place to drink their sorrows away (I mean that in a good way). It's the type of dive bar where people become regulars there, also known as "that guy."

Gladly and I wanted to check out a new bar on Tuesday night, and we had narrowed it down to three choices: The Dresden on Vermont, Tiki Ti in Silver Lake, or The Blue Room in Burbank. The first two were somewhat far away from my home but still very attractive. We then read Zagat Survey's L.A. Nightlife 08/09's description of The Blue Room: "cheap drinks, great atmosphere, and the waitresses have been there since the place opened." Sounds like heaven to me.

After parking in the limited lot behind the bar, we were greeted by a looming blue neon glow. It felt a little like we were walking into Bruin territory. You get what you expect from the name of this place--the bar is literally one room where the walls and furniture are blue. On your left proudly stands a dart board. Across from it sits a very eclectic electric jukebox that could cater to any one's needs. The booze is right next to the jukebox. Hip hop music filled the atmosphere, which I was kinda bummed about it because I wanted trashy dive bar classic rock, but beggars can't be choosers. And that's pretty much the place.

I told Gladly, "You know, I have yet to see a prehistoric waitress here." Immediately after saying that, a woman around her 50s with saggy skin and cigarette-colored fingernails asked for our order. I looked at Gladly and said, "Oh, well there you go." I then looked around for the "regulars." He wasn't too hard to find: he was an old, somewhat fat Italian man with a chest as hairy as a gorilla. He wore a gold chain that hid in the forest of his chest while drinking straight whiskey. Gladly described him as Evil Knievel on acid. I felt like he was one of those guys that would go up to someone and say, "Your sitting in my seat" and then proceed to show the person where his name was written on it.

We ordered two beers (one Newcastle, one Sam Adams) and observed the other bar patrons. It was a pretty good crowd for a Tuesday night. There was a large party sitting at the blue lounge tables, and a pair of really cute girls sitting right next to us (ok, one was super hot, and one was kinda not so hot, so combined they averaged out to really cute). Working up enough liquid courage after two rounds of boilermakers (a shot of whiskey with a beer chaser), we started thinking of a game plan for these two girls. However, we were soon distracted by a really cute girl in a red dress. Not to say that she actually talked to us (not yet anyway), but I saw her from across the bar and was starstruck. She looked exactly like Mel from Flight of the Conchords, one of my favorite shows at the moment. I kept wondering if it was her. Then, I heard her speak--it was totally Mel. On Flight of the Conchords, Mel is the only fan of the New Zealand folk duo in New York. She obsessively stalks them and tries to seduce them in very creepy ways. Her most intriguing feature--she has a distinct high pitched nasal voice. When I heard her talk, I knew it was her. After this confirmation, I realized that her wingwoman was none other than Kelly the Indian girl from The Office!

We needed a whole new game plan. Gladly and I went outside for a cigarette to ruminate about philosophical quanderies such as what's the best pick up line, how do you hit on a celebrity, and the father/son bond (don't ask me how that got thrown in there--we were getting pretty drunk by then). Then, God threw us an easy pass: a girl came up to us and asked if I could take her photo. Who was she taking the photo with? None other than Mel herself!

Kage: Holy shit, are you Mel from Flight of the Conchords?!
Mel: Haha, yeah.
Kage: Holy fucking shit, man! I love your show!
Mel: Thanks. Haha you two should be friends (pointing to the other girl)
Kage: Smile!

I had to take three photos, which got kind of awkward, because that damn neon blue light kept fucking up the sharpness of the photo. Fucking Bruins.

Then, the random girl was kind enough to take a photo of me and Mel and emailed it to me later. Although not the greatest photo, hey, at least we got one.A couple beers later, Gladly and I decide to go buy some cheap Black 'n Milds, just to have something to smoke (we are both trying to quit cigarettes at the moment, and yeah, we had one earlier, but give us a break, quitting is fucking hard). We were a little sad to leave this charming shithole-in-the-wall. I mean, where else can you get two beers for 8 bucks? Two boilermakers for 13 bucks? That's fucking cheap, man.

Overall, I think The Blue Room has a unique dive bar charm. The bartenders are friendly and energetic and willing to take shots with you. The waitresses probably have tons of stories to tell. The atmosphere was chill but still lively. And we got to meet Mel from Flight of the Conchords. I'd say that there be no blues at The Blue Room.

On The Up and Coming: Wale

2008-07-08T13:17:00.000-07:00

D.C. based rapper Wale describes his music in this way: "Think of what a def persons interpretation of very good music would sound like ...multiplied by your favorite songs impact when you knew you loved it multiplied by what would happen if music never existed until you heard it add a million to that and youd be 1/100000 of the way to understanding my sound."

Sounds cocky, huh?

Not necessarily so. I wouldn't necessarily label Wale as that interpretation, but I will say that the hype and buzz around this guy are very true. In 2005, Wale surfaced onto the D.C. rap scene with the single "Rhyme of the Century." This single put him on Source Magazine's June '05 "Unsigned Hype" list. From there, the buzz really began. He's been compared to Kanye West, Pharrell, Lupe Fiasco, and Common--not a bad crew to be a part of.

Wale credits much of his influences come from go-go bands. What's a go-go band, you ask? I myself had to Wikipedia this information. Go-go is a subgenre of funk that originated in 1970s Washington, D.C. "In technical terms, 'Go-go's essential beat is characterized by a syncopated, dotted rhythm that consists of a series of quarter and eighth notes (quarter, eighth, quarter, (space/held briefly), quarter, eighth, quarter)… which is underscored most dramatically by the bass drum and snare drum, and the hi-hat… [and] is ornamented by the other percussion instruments, especially by the conga drums, timbale, and hand-held cowbells.' A swing rhythm is often implied (if not explicitly stated)" (Wikipedia: Go-go). The call-and-response between audience and MC is also key to go-go.

After "Rhyme of the Century," Wale came out with many go-go inspired singles that started putting him on the map. He certainly blew up when Entourage showcased his song "Ice Cream Girl" on the June 24, 2007 episode (the one where E and Vince finally watch a cut of Medellin--by the way, the show is back September 7th!)

And then Wale got daring--he made a rap mix to Justice's "D.A.N.C.E." entitled "W.A.L.E.D.A.N.C.E." for his next FREE mixtape "100 Miles and Running." This album has been downloaded 30,000 times off his Myspace since its release. This is initially how I first heard of Wale--his song was a "Must Download" in June's Spin magazine. That is what truly impresses me about this rapper. He is not afraid of collaborations with artists and concepts that would seem outrageous or downright crazy. He recognizes the sick beats that Justice produces. Kanye West did the same thing by sampling Daft Punk's "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" for his own "Stronger." With the easy access to music and the postmodern thought in today's digital world, collaborations, remixes, and covers are turning up more and more to create a musically shared and enlightened experience. One can influence the other and vice versa to create a union of uniqueness.

On May 30, 2008, Wale released his fourth FREE mixtape "Mixtape About Nothing," which is heavily influenced by the most unlikely of things--hit tv show Seinfeld (It can be downloaded at elitaste.com and 10deep.com--I highly recommend this album). Showcasing Wale's clever rhymes and indelible free flow, seriously this guy can rhyme for hours without stopping, "Mixtape About Nothing" samples many clips from Seinfeld episodes and things relating to it. Each song is titled the way episodes where--the article "The" precludes every title." He even inserts catchphrases and lines from the episodes into the songs while discussing serio-topics like modern identity politics and the state of rap today: "What's the deal with this rap stuff? / Since Napster / The sales been crashing."

On the track "The Kramer," Wale samples Michael Richards' racist slurs from the Laugh Factory and then launches into a rhythmic discussion on the use of the word "Nigga." He also samples Jay-Z's "Roc Boys" on "The Freestyle" in homage to one of his biggest influences. Wale delves into all sorts of genres from soul to go-go to R&B to this new wave of "futuristic rap" or sometimes known as "rave-rap," which is also discussed on "The Skit (Untz Untz). He even comments on the mainstreaming and selling out of certain hip hop acts. He parodies "Crank That Soulja Boy" in "The Skit" with his own "Crank That Squirrelly Boy."

He somewhat parodies Lil' Wayne too. He has a song called "The Cliche Lil' Wayne Feature," which features, well, Lil' Wayne. I'm not sure if this is a diss, a tribute, or both. Many pundits claim that Lil' Wayne was able to sell 1 million copies in one week for his latest album Tha Carter III because of all the free mixtapes and collaborations he has done for the past three years. In the same vein, Wale has now released four free mixtapes and is collaborating with the likes of The Roots, Kanye West, Mark Ronson, 9th Wonder, and Justice. Will he too sell 1 million copies in one week when his debut album with the above-mentioned artists is released next year?

Probably not because people still do not who this guy is.

But trust me, you will soon enough.

Some Cool People That I Know

2008-07-07T00:30:00.001-07:00

Locations: Burbank
Santa Barbara
The Hollywood Cemetery Screening of Easy Rider, sponsored by Cinespia

For All You Jim James Lovers

2008-07-05T17:05:00.000-07:00

Sweet article on the lead singer of My Morning Jacket. Pay special attention to his mention of altered states.

The Man and The Myth

Perception Theory

2008-07-01T14:54:00.000-07:00

I just bought my ticket for The Dark Knight opening on July 18th. Anticipation and expectation are high for this film for several obvious reasons. I've been looking forward to this movie since the last scene of Batman Begins foreshadowed the return of the Joker. However, with the late tragic death of Heath Ledger, the film has taken on a whole new meaning, as not only the movie as a whole will be measured, but also his last performance. Seeing him on the screen will and could only be described as ghostly. Check out this exclusive on the film from Entertainment Weekly.

Perception Theory

Get ready because I'm about to get abstract on your asses.

Monday night, I decided to call it an early night and went to bed around 1:15 a.m. My head hit the pillow, and the next thing I knew, I was outside in my backyard, where some sort of army training camp was occurring. Men dressed in black tank tops and camouflage pants were practicing hand-to-hand combat with real guns and real knives. These two soldiers were in the midst of a fight when all the sudden, the one guy flipped the other guy over onto his back and shot him in the collarbone. The drill sergeant simply responded, "Accidents happen. Get him off the field." Then, they called me over, for it was my turn to duke it out. I can't remember who I was fighting, but I know it was someone I knew. My roommate said to me, "He likes to tackle from the knees, so pre-emptive strike him." Just as had been foretold, my opponent did just that. I kicked him in the head and fake-checked him with the weapons. As I celebrated my faux-victory, the drill sergeant came over and told me I had done a fine job.

The next thing I know, I'm in my bed, in my room. Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. It's pitch-black. Then, I see a figure in a white t-shirt emerge from the hallway. It walks slowly. Or is it floating? I can't make out who it is, so I take a guess. "Jason?" It mutters, and I can't discern if it's a yes or no. The figure disappears, and my bed starts shaking uncontrollably. I feel it shaking and moving, like someone is bouncing on it. I jump out of bed and run to turn off the lights. The lights on my fan brighten, and my room is empty.

The clock shines 1:30 a.m.

The scariest part is that in this dream/nightmare context, I don't know at which point I was awake, which point I fell asleep, and which point I woke up again.

Have you ever had this kind of dream? The dream-within-a-dream? The dream that feels like reality? There are people out there that say they have, and I believe them. They'll be able to relate to my experience, but they'll never fully understand it because my perception shaped my dream. My own subjective reality shaped it.

I began wondering how this dream came about, and I feel like it was heavily influenced by this long conversation about the nature of perception, time, reality, and dreams that my friend Gladly (pseudonym) and I had engaged in only hours before I passed out.

It's funny that, although only days later, I have a harder time remembering what exactly we talked about. I know the gist of it, but a word-by-word replay would mean my own "filling in the blanks." Which leads me to two very interesting points that Gladly made:

1. Gladly states, "In my lifetime, I'll forget more things than I experience."
2. Gladly states, "All my memory files are corrupted."

Allow me to clarify:

We began by discussing a disagreement that had recently occurred in his life with someone else. Although the other person and him are the best of friends, lifemates if you will, there are some things they will never see eye to eye. Although they grew up relatively together (same town, same group of friends), their collegiate experiences have started taking them down different paths; therefore, their outlook, their perception of life is changing. As it turns out, different perceptions of the same thing start arising. To give you an example, I pointed out a helicopter to Gladly and told him, "Dude, look at this chopper. We are looking at the same chopper but because of our different experiences in life, the multi stimulants that have come across our paths and influenced us, we are going to have vastly different thoughts about it. We will never truly see the same chopper. The best we can do is compare and relate to each other, but we won't be on the same level."

Rereading that last line I typed struck me as a very lonely thought. Is the whole basis of reality an isolated experience? There are no two same, exact people on this earth. Every single person is a unique individual in their own right. That's why in all those time travel films (see: Back to the Future, Southland Tales), there's the whole time paradox that if your future self runs into your past self, a universal catastrophe will take place: no two exact souls can thrive in the same time and space.

Now, be it true, that my examples come from film, so they are not real examples. But, can't cinema be the only true time travel method we have in today's society? Time travel hasn't been proven. We haven't built a time-traveling DeLorean or created time portals or even confirmed the existence of wormholes, yet all these methods live on in celluloid form.

Not only that, but the cinematic form even manifests time travel itself. Think about it. When one watches a film, they are experiencing three different times at once: the time you watch the film, the time the film takes place, and the time in which the film was made. If you want to probe further, you can consider that film is the congregation of multiple times--the director's time, the writer's time, the producer's time, the actor's time, the PA's time, the set designer's time, etc. All these people are experiencing their own time, and the video camera is recording every moment of it. Harkening back to my chopper example, when you watch a film, you'll be interpreting it differently from someone else. One person can think that Vince Vaughn is the funniest man on the planet, another can think he's as boring as a history teacher older than the subject he's teaching. The way you spend your time is perception. The way you think about your time is through your perception.

If perception is time, and time is subjective, then perception is subjective.

Is there an objective truth? Is there any objectivity at all?

Objectivity hopefully comes about in retrospect. When you think about it "after the fact," when you are able to remove yourself from the situation and discern it from an outside perspective, the objective truth comes out. Relating to time, when the present becomes the past, objective truth becomes clearer. The present changes every single second. The minute you lose focus of the present situation, it becomes the past. When an event becomes a memory, it becomes the past, because it is no longer currently occurring. The trouble with this engagement is that with the ever-increasing bombardment of stimuli in today's modern world, it gets harder to differentiate and filter the past from the present. Slowly, selective memory works its magic, and you really only remember the things you want to remember or had more impact. Hence, Gladly's statements of forgetting more than experiencing and the corruption of memory.

Where am I going with this whole rant? Well, I guess, it comes down to acceptance of perception. Whatever someone does, whatever someone says, is all because of their perception. Their environment, their parents (the basic learning foundation), their experiences have all shaped and influence the person they have become. No two people experience the same life. Even twins, who are of the same genetics, who look alike, have the same parents, same family environment, will still have different thoughts, different perceptions. Their consciousnesses will be self-aware of only what they can see, hear, taste, touch, smell. Perception goes hand-in-hand with personality and character traits. It goes hand-in-hand with thought and emotion. If someone wrongs you, while it is still wrong and hurtful, one should understand that it was their perception to perform this action. This person may not even consider their actions wrong. It is still individual to them.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm talking about the soul.

At least, that's my perception.

Suggested Readings:
The Psychedelic Experience by Timothy Leary
The End of Mr. Y by Scarlett Thomas
The Phenomenology of Perception by Merlou-Ponty
The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz

POSTSCRIPT: My buddy Jake messaged me an interesting thought after reading this entry, and I totally dig it. Although we are all individualistic, "The one perception I feel we should all agree on: 'And we are all as equally important as those who came before us, those who are next to us, and those that will come after us.'"

True that, dude.

Wild Weekend with Wasted, Wanted, Weirdos, and Wall-E

2008-07-01T13:58:00.000-07:00

First, check out this short article and this one too on the Zimbabwe presidential election. This shit really pisses me off and makes me sad. Here, recently elected (that's a load of crap) President Mugabe says that the West can "go hang a thousand times" for condemning the country's disputed recent elections. Living in a free America, with the independence-celebrating holiday 4th of July quickly approaching, it still baffles me that there are countries living under totalitarian and oppressing regimes. There's another L.A. Times article that talks about countries such as China and Russia stating that they will not intervene in these issues because it is "Africa's problem." The U.S., Britain, and Australia, meanwhile, are ready to impose U.N. sanctions on the political leaders of Zimbabwe in order to have a more free and fair election. Don't take your freedom for granted, kids.

Now, instead of focusing on one topic extensively, let's try for many topics summarized:

1. Wasted (The Edison Bar)--Friday Night
This bar was built for me. I tried to go to this place a couple weeks back but they wouldn't let my friends and me in because we were not wearing the "proper attire" (we had t-shirts and sneakers, they require dress shoes and collared shirts), but just from the outside of it, I knew I had to venture back. Upon entrance with the right clothes, I discovered that The Edison actually goes downstairs to an underground level. I was stunned at how big it was. Jazz music was blasting and silent films were projected onto the walls. With its blend of 1920s artifacts and futuristic layout, I was intrigued by the merge of different times in one place. There are two bars and lots of seating available. The drink menu was unique as they present their own type of (really fucking expensive) drinks (thank God we pregamed). I ordered The Hemingway (absynthe and champagne) because I always wanted to try absynthe. It tasted like black licorice which I am definitely not a fan of. But having paid 14 bucks for it, I swallowed my pride and the rest of the drink. I later ordered a dirty martini, which was phenomenal. If a bar can get this classy drink right, it goes high in my book. So far, this is the best bar I have been to in Los Angeles. For more info, click here.

2. Wanted--Saturday Afternoon
I had originally wanted to see Wall-E, but it was sold out. I had wanted to see this Angelina Jolie-James McAvoy flick, anyway, so I figured why not. My initial reaction after walking out of the theater was "This was either the coolest movie I've seen in a while or the stupidest one I've seen most recently this summer (this list of summer stupid flicks include Zohan, The Happening, and The Love Guru). Upon one more day of reflection, I've concluded that it was pretty ridiculous. It was like The Matrix meets Office Space meets "assassin" movie. Some of the action scenes were pretty cool (the train sequence was nuts and the first car chase was kinda badass, I guess), but there were moments that made the movie just awful. Directed by Timur Bekmambetov (of Russia's very popular Night Watch), the film tries to follow the graphic novel's depiction of stylized violence and fighting. Just like South Park, this movie had a lot of bullet shots to the head. Jolie was hot in the role, but I felt that anyone sexy could have played this part. I'll admit, for his first mainstream role, I found McAvoy very appealing. He played the loser-nobody to a humorous pitch and then actually convinced me that he could also be a no-nonsense assassin. One of his last scenes where he fights multiple assassins in a row was probably the best scene of the whole film--until his last line in the movie, where he breaks the 4th barrier and talks to the audience directly, ruined the whole thing for me.

Notable quote: "Shoot this motherfucker!"--Morgan Freeman in Wanted

3. Weirdos (Electric Daisy Carnival)--Saturday Night
Going to the Electric Daisy Carnival now ranks as #5 on the Top Five Best Nights of My Life. I don't even know where to begin. About 8 of my friend and I decided to attend this once a summer massive rave at the Coliseum with Benny Bennassi, Moby, and Paul Van Dyk headlining. I usually go to the Coliseum for USC Football games, so it was definitely a mindfuck when we got there and were welcomed by thousands and thousands of people dressed up in raver outfits and dancing like it was their last night on Earth. The whole thing felt like a giant end-of-the-world party, complete with carnival rides and alcohol! Everyone was so free-spirited and unjudgmental. I donno, it just felt like everyone was on the same page, there to have a good time with great music and great people. There was a moment where we were at the top of the Coliseum and looked down at the pit during Paul Van Dyk. Everything was dark as it was 3 am, but the glow sticks created the most amazing effect I think I've ever seen. It reminded me of those glowing fish at the bottom of the ocean. People were just friendly and the genuine kindness I encountered was surprising. I'd like to give a quick shout out to Lace, who showed me how to truly enjoy the night. The only way I can describe this night is with some photos. Take a look.

4. Wall-E (Sunday Night)
I'm just going to come out and say it: This movie is fucking amazing! I was wondering whether or not this whole "robots with no dialogue" thing was going to work, and let me tell you, it did. It really did. We learned in my production class that dialogue is secondary to visuals. If you can tell a story visually, without words to rely on, then the dialogue will only complement and enhance the story, instead of carrying it. This movie did just that. Wall-E had a pitch-perfect sound design. Wall-E used humanistic characteristics and facial (robotic?) expressions that accurately and simply conveyed the characters' emotions to the audience without getting lost in translation. Like every Pixar movie, the film begins on a pessimistic level, then resolving towards a happy and redemptive ending. Channeling Charlie Chaplin, Wall-E makes us laugh with his lovelorn journey to be with female robot E.V.E. Along the way, he shows off courage and strength to save a group of humans he's never even met. If you're not moved to at least near-tears by the end, you need to thaw out that frozen heart of yours. This movie was nothing short of brilliant--just look at its opening weekend (62.5 million!).

Overall, this weekend was amazing for me and the box office. Other notable things this weekend: I finished watching The Sopranos (all of it, finally, after 4 months) and watched Reality Bites, a surprisingly good movie directed by, surprisingly, Ben Stiller. Sopranos and The Wackness reviews coming soon.

Stay classy.

Viva la Coldplay!

2008-06-26T15:55:00.000-07:00

Coldplay have long had to withstand inevitable comparisons to Radiohead. And rightfully so. Chris Martin states that Radiohead and U2 are perhaps two of his biggest influences on his band. That and Ambien, of course. Martin claims to have sleeping problems so he takes sleeping pill Ambien. However, like any great artist, the best ideas come late in the middle of the night/way early in the morning. Inspired, he starts writing down his ideas. If you stay awake on Ambien, though, well, it fucks you up.

I think Chris Martin took a lot of Ambien for his band Coldplay's latest outing Viva La Vida or Death and All of His Friends as it is their most experimental record. Although musically different, Coldplay manages to stay true to its roots and create the most unColdplay/most Coldplay album to date. Here's a track-by-track reaction response.

"Life in Technicolor"--So begins the electronic evolution of Coldplay. I thought they started going down this path on X&Y but it becomes more clear how Radiohead's Kid A and U2's Achtung Baby inspired the band. The song becomes with an electronic buzz that soon kicks up speed with some Eastern sitar. The song is solely instrumental and a great thesis statement for the album. Great background music. It could also be a really kickass ringtone.

"Cemeteries of London"--The tone changes on this one. It starts off a bit somber with a walking piano melody. Then the desperado-like guitar comes in below Chris Martin's singing "la la la." For a song about cemeteries, it makes you feel pretty happy.

"Lost!"--Excellent use of church organs and bass drums make you want to stand up and sing, "I'm not lost!" The song speaks of optimism in dark times with some political undertones, especially in the lyrics: "And you'll be lost! / Every river that you tried to cross / Every gun you ever held went off / Oh and I'm just waiting 'til the firing's stopped / Oh and I'm just waiting 'til the shine wears off."

"42"--The song starts off with old Coldplay: Martin sings somberly above a haunting piano melody. As Martin sings about death and ghosts, the slow building background buzz creates an eerie presence, as if spirits do wander. Then the song gets deadly as it turns into a progressive rock jam with piercing lead guitar hooks. All the sudden, it turns into another type of song--a happy sing along about not getting to heaven but "you made it close."

"Lovers in Japan/Reign of Love"--Here, Coldplay starts really mixing it up as they combine two songs in one, much like a concept album. The rollicking piano of "Lovers in Japan" makes me picture a montage of people running towards each other. It makes sense as the opening lyrics are "Lovers, keep on the road you're on / Runners until the race is run." The drums and piano follow in sync to keep up a lovely ambling pace. Then, Coldplay returns to balladry on "Reign" as the liquid piano brings you into a dream state. But his lyrics invoke a sense of nightmare as he sings, "I'm a prisoner in the reign of love." Prison evokes negativity and lack of control, which makes sense when one is in love, but wouldn't this be a good thing? Maybe being married to Gwyneth isn't all its cracked up to be.

"Yes/Chinese Sleep Chant"--Definitely the most experimental song on this album. The song starts with much more evidential Indian and Asian influence found in the guitar whams. Martin then does something drastically different: no more falsetto, it's baritone time! And I fuckin' dig it. Who knew Martin could sing sexy? The Indian tempo gives the song a sense of urgency and danger as Martin sings of his impending doom by the almighty fate aka God. "Chinese Sleep Chant" is another great background song for a movie montage, though, or even a movie trailer. It's a pretty epic song with swirling guitars and lots of distortion. It definitely doesn't make me sleep.

"Viva La Vida"--We've all heard this song. You've all seen the Apple commercial. This song has dominated the Hot 100 list. It's the first Coldplay song that doesn't focus on instruments but solely sounds and atmosphere. The violins here are the melody, the bass drum is the rhythm, and then it feels like an explosion of not only sound but colors, too. Coldplay have done what N.E.R.D. struggle to die: create synthesia. Looking at the lyrics, I noticed that Martin has a great knack for using alliteration, assonance, and consonance. With its Victorian lyrics, Martin almost channels Edgar Allen Poe, without all the depressing bullshit. This song took a while to grow on me, but now I can't get enough of it. I hear it and just want to start pumping my hand in the air. Damn, I wish I was as cool as Chris Martin.

"Violet Hill"--The album's first single and most aggressive cut. Chris Martin, for once, sounds angry! Who knew he even had this emotion? This song is interesting in a different way--it was offered as a free single to the fans. It's also going to be the first Coldplay song to be available on Guitar Hero and Rock Band. In a way, Coldplay, like U2, are embracing the new business model: product and technology as art. It's a merging of the creative with the business. It's not selling out, it's giving in and improving.

"Strawberry Swing"--This song is just a really happy 60s psychedelic jingle. It's a simple song with no choruses really. It just puts me in a good mood. I don't know what else to say.

"Death and All of His Friends/The Escapist"--Once again, another lovely little ditty with Martin singing lovely little lyrics about love and loss (see? I can alliterate, too.) Then, the song gets fucking awesome with the rock-out-with-your-cock-out piano and guitar bash-a-thon. The drum kicks in to create an indelible beat. I wish this part of the song was longer and they busted out into a great guitar winded solo. "No, I don't want to battle from beginning to end / I don't want a cycle of recycled revenge / I don't wanna follow Death and all of his friends." Martin invokes images of circularity, which is appropriate as the song concludes with the instrumental that the album began with.

"Lost?"--The piano version of "Lost!" A great reinterpretation by the same band.

Overall, I fucking dig this album. It's really easy listening and shows new chops by a band that I've come to grow and love. More and more, I see a distinct difference between Coldplay and Radiohead. Everyone worships Radiohead but I don't think it's fair to have Coldplay compared to them because both bands have their strengths and weaknesses (yes, even Radiohead has some weaknesses.) More so, Coldplay is unique in the sense of selling cool, selling art, selling hip. From free singles to Apple commercials to free concerts to online streaming to having their whole album previewed on KROQ without commercial interruption, they know how to distribute art to the mainstream without selling out, although this is debatable. In the end, I may rail on people who choose to make music and movies for money, but you know what? Sometimes, it's just fucking good, it's fucking good. This album encompasses many themes of contradictory states: good and evil, life and death, right and wrong. It makes sense that it should then manifest business and creative, money and art.

Viva la Coldplay!

Rescue Me!

2008-06-26T13:14:00.000-07:00

I think for now on before I write about my topic of the moment, I'm going to recommend something for you guys to check out, whether it's a movie, article, song, or whatever, just to show what I'm into at the moment.

Here's a really interesting article I read in today's L.A. times about the world's need for superheroes (in movies) because of our saddened world state. The article states that superheroes were huge in World War II and Vietnam because people needed heroes during the troubled times. Now in our times, when there's more than just war to worry about, we need Batman, Superman, Spiderman, Hulk, and Iron Man all at once. More so, he goes on to compare this notion to Barack Obama and John McCain. Pretty insightful shit.

Superheroes in our time of need

Today's Times

2008-06-24T10:34:00.000-07:00

I read about this in today's online version of The Los Angeles Times. This is exactly what a blog should be.

The Big Picture Blog

There was also this interesting article about a survey reporting that Californians are less religious than the rest of the nation. Relating to this blog, the article states, "California stands out for another reason. One of its signature industries and locales, Hollywood, appears to be a corrupting influence in the eyes of at least some Americans. Forty-two percent say they feel their values are threatened by "Hollywood and the entertainment industry"; 56% say they are not threatened."

Survey says Californians less religious than rest of the nation

Yes, it's true that there are movies out there that highlight many sinful activities or show no morals and whatnot. For many states not on the East or West Coast that are much more religious and moral than us, I do definitely see how we could be less religious in their eyes. I openly admit that I'm not much of a religious person even though I grew up Catholic, but I do consider myself a very spiritual person. You don't have to go to church to be a good person and lead a good life.

Los Angeles is becoming more and more postmodern every day with the latest in technology hitting us faster than the rest of the nation. Along with some other major cities in the U.S., Los Angeles is the epicenter of digital expansion and new forms of media and advertising. With our ever decreasing attention spans, people must go to outrageous and controversial lengths to keep us tuned in. However, it can all come down to the age old question of "Who's to blame: the media, the kids, or the parents?" Thankfully, there is a larger percentage of those who do not feel threatened, which shows more a conscious awareness that the negative influence kids see today is reflective of the parents. But life is not a one way street. It is also the responsibility of Hollywood to consciously show taboo subjects in a tasteful manner, with a purpose and meaning behind it.

This new era of torture porn and reality TV is sickening to me. Reality TV is the dumbing down of America. Sadly, I'll admit that I'm a huge fan of it too. It's a guilty pleasure. The Real World: Hollywood has indulged me in sin with Joey's drug problems, the random hookups, the L.A. nightlife. The Hills--well, that's a no-brainer, it's just a fucking entertaining show based on nothing! They do nothing on the show but gossip and bitch and backstab and complain and they get paid to do it! Did I also mention they are all incredibly hot? America's Best Dance Crew has the sickest dance moves! I'm constantly amazed by the execution and invention of some of the things they do. Jabbawockeez for life, bro. I could keep going with all this shit: Living Lohan, Keeping Up With The Kardashians, The Bachelor(ette), Joe Millionaire, Extreme Makeover. What the hell is our fascination with reality TV? It's not even reality because everyone becomes a characterization of their true selves on television, controlled by the editor who only chooses the parts most dramatic or entertaining. Hollywood loves it, though, because it is so cheap to make (no actor salaries, no huge production design, etc.).

Life, and especially Los Angeles, is a two-way street. You love to hate it.. You hate to love it.

Who's to take responsibility for that?

Put This In Your CD Player And Smoke It

2008-06-20T02:22:00.000-07:00

Put This In Your CD Player And Smoke It Playlist:
1. A-Punk by Vampire Weekend
2. English House by Fleet Foxes
3. The Needle Has Landed by Neko Case
4. Let's Get It On by Marvin Gaye
5. Get Crazy by LMFAO
6. I'm So Glad by Cream
7. Creeper by Islands
8. King by Weezer
9. I'm Not Down by The Clash
10. Who's Gonna Save My Soul by Gnarls Barkley
11. Killing For Love by Jose Gonzalez
12. Free Man In Paris by Joni Mitchell
13. Time To Pretend by MGMT
14. Universal Mind Control by Common feat. Pharrell
15. Blackstar by Radiohead
16. 88 by The Cool Kids
17. When Doves Cry by Prince
18. I Want You by Bob Dylan
19. Fools by The Dodos
20. Faustz by AmpLive (Radiohead Remix)
21. Smokin' From Shootin' by My Morning Jacket

"So we can go . . . off the island?

2008-06-19T13:16:00.000-07:00

And so we can! I know I'm way far behind in publishing this inevitable post, but it seriously has taken me a long time to, well, find some time to watch the 2 hour epic that was the Lost season four finale. Most bloggers, according to Doc Jensen of Entertainment Weekly's weekly Lost preview and postreview column, did not write about the season four finale until a week afterward, just to let it all sink in.

I myself went through that same phase because the season four finale FUCKED ME UP. I was a mess. I couldn't think straight. I didn't know what to think. This partly could have been due to the great tradition my friends and I play during every season finale of Lost known as OMINOUS. Every time an ominous moment occurs, you take a shot of beer. It's pretty simple. And trust me, the season finale was enough to get you pretty drunk. Of course, since it is Lost, multiple viewings are essential to understanding what happened. When you've already seen it once and know what is going to happen at the end, the second viewing allows you to better understand exactly what is going on.

DO NOT CONTINUE READING IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE SEASON FINALE

This finale finally showed the moment we watchers had been waiting for four seasons: the moment they leave the island. Up until the season three finale, it was not even fathomable that they could or would get off the island. Of course, that epic finale (in my opinion, the best one so far) showed us that in fact Jack and Kate do get off the island, but things have drastically changed. Jack becomes a guilt-ridden, suicidal OC addict while Kate wants nothing to do with him. How did we get from point A on the island to this point B? Through the use of flashforwards, we see what becomes of our Oceanic Six.

Kate has a dream where she sees Claire looming over Aaron. Claire furtively tells Kate not to bring him back to the island. Was this really a dream, though, or was it ghost Claire warning her? Sayid kills a man posted outside Hurley's mental institution and then convinces Hurley to leave with him because "it is no longer safe." Hurley notes that he speaks to dead people. Sun confronts Charles Widmore about his relations with her father (I knew Sun's dad was in on it!) And our cursed hero Jack gets bitched out by Kate for even speaking to Jeremy Bentham, the man in the coffin. In the finale's last scene, Jack breaks into the funeral parlor and opens the coffin. Ben this sneaks up from behind him and talks about getting ALL of the Oceanic Six back to the island because after they left "some very bad things happened." Jeremy Bentham is then revealed to be John Locke!

And this is where I got fucked up. The last scene of Locke in the coffin spoke volumes. Last time we saw Locke, he had become the leader of the Others while Ben pushed a large frozen wheel in order to "move" the island. I think two things have become self-evident:

1. Ben moved the island in time as the Orchid was a time-travel station and was located near a large discharge of negatively charged ions, or something like that.

2. After Ben moves the island, he time travels to the future, where his flashforward from this past season begins.

I later found this YouTube video (see below) that really contradicts a lot of things. Apparently, the writers were scared of a possible spoiler leak about the season finale, so they shot two other alternate endings. Their main choice was to have Locke in the coffin, but in case word got out, they could have gone with either Desmond or Sawyer. The thing is, all three of these alternate endings could have taken the show in different directions. One could ask, "Wait, last time we saw Desmond, he was reunited with Penny, so how did he die and why was he telling everyone to go back?" One could ask, "How did Sawyer get off the island, and why was he telling everyone to go back?" But what really makes it epic is "Why Locke?" However, these three endings lead me to believe that while the ending is clear to the writers, they can go anyway about it to get to that point, whether it was through Desmond, Sawyer, or Locke.

Locke, I believe, is one of the most important pieces of the show in understanding the Island. He has the strongest connection with it, and his narrative revolves around uncovering its secrets. As we saw in his last flashback, Locke has been groomed since birth to become a leader on the Island. This episode raised so many questions that I can't even get into it right now.

That's the thing about Lost. You can't explain one thing without having to explain a million other things.

After my first viewing, I kept wondering why Jack made the decision to follow Locke's advice and lie to the rest of the world. The second viewing put it into perspective. His controlling "I have to fix it, I made a promise" attitude overwhelms him with unimaginable guilt. Ben had told him that he should be off the island in an hour. He collected the remainder of the castaways and flew to the freighter. But they weren't counting on all the C4 explosives to be on the ship and trigger right around the time they landed. Jack made the decision to get on that chopper. His quick thinking skipped one thing, though: the people not on the chopper. He couldn't save them all, only some, but it was better than everyone dying. Jin was running toward the chopper, and many castaways including Rose and Bernard were still on the freighter. Then BOOM, it explodes in a blaze of glory. Michael sees Christian Shephard, who says "You can go now," before he dies in the fiery explosion. Michael is for sure dead (Harold Perrineau has commented on the demise of Michael in interviews), but I'm gonna bank that Jin, Rose, and Bernard aren't dead. And if they are, well, just because you die on the island doesn't mean you're off the show. Ghosts became a huge theme this season. And Faraday was still on that little boat with some of the castaways, what happened to them? Sawyer, Juliette, Miles, and Charlotte are still on the island as well. Then, the island disappeared, and the chopper was stranded. From there, you know that it crashes, Penny rescues them, and so begins the off-island flashforwards.

Lost yet?

It's fucking confusing. I'm recapping just to get my thoughts straight.

I guess what I take the most from this episode is that not only does it conclude another chapter of this story but also sets up the eventual conclusion of the show: season five will be the Oceanic Six trying to get back to the island while season six will show them back on it, and its end. But many questions were answered. We now know why Jack was so fucked up. He had to make the split second decision to lose everyone or save a few. In a sense, he left the remaining castaways to die in order to save himself. His look of pain and guilt on the chopper as he surveyed the wreckage said it all. Maybe lying to the world about everything was his way to escape the plaguing scorn that would have come from this outset. Think back to Michael's slaying of Anna Lucia and Libby: Ben said Michael would never say a word because how it would look if people knew what he did to get off the island? What would people think of Jack the hero as Jack the killer? And now, he's so weak that he's listening to Benjamin Linus.

With this confusing ending (why the hell is Locke going by the name Jeremy Bentham?), Season Five can begin with a brand new clean slate. I have no idea where the fuck the show is going. I do have one prediction, as minor as it is: Charlotte is Annie. You remember Annie, Ben's childhood friend who gave him that doll? Where did she go? Was she involved in the purge? My guess is that Ben somehow manipulated the situation where she a) left the island at an early age because he knew what was going to happen in the future or b) he somehow wiped her memory, but she has strong feelings that the island is where she was born. As for some things I've heard about season five, we can definitely expect a Miles and Faraday flashbacks. They were supposed to happen this season but the writer's strike fucked up the schedule.

Once again, Lost has blown my mind. I've been watching this show since September 2001 and it has instantly become the best TV show I have ever seen. It encompasses nearly every universal theme out there (good vs evil, divinity vs humanity, the duality of man, religion vs science, etc.) The pop culture references make it evoke so many different time periods. The characters are universal in their own right. I feel like every kind of person is almost portrayed on this show. In a sense, Lost is about life. This season showed the return to form since the glory days of Season One. After the season four finale ended, I realized something. There are only two seasons left. After two seasons, it's over, that's it. I suddenly got depressed because I knew in two years I would be depressed. I have never invested so much time and emotion into a television show before. When that last episode airs, I don't know how I'm going to feel. So I try not to think about it. But I know it'll be something I remember for the rest of my young life.

Until that day comes, though, I can't wait to see what comes next.

It's Lost, bitches.

Season Four Awards:

Best Episode: "The Constant"
Best Quote: "Destiny is a fickle bitch."--Benjamin Linus
Best WTF Moment (two way tie): Locke in the coffin and Sayid working for Ben
Best Lesbian Fight Scene: Juliette vs. Charlotte
Best Flashback: Locke and Matthew Abbadon in the hospital
Worst Episode: Juliette's flashback
Best Supernatural Element: Ben calls upon the Smoke Monster
Best Badass Scene: Sayid vs. Keamy

The Art Of Selling Yourself

2008-06-17T01:11:00.000-07:00

On the way home tonight, I pondered what to write about for my nightcap blog. While I thought about different topics I could write about (The Incredible Hulk--it's a hit or miss, the new Coldplay album--same thing but only time will tell), a question, for some reason, kept popping up in my mind: how much of myself do I put in my writing? You can take that on any level, you like, but I choose to look at it two ways:

1. The things that I write that are true. This includes certain biographical statistics such as place of birth, ethnicity, names of family and friends, opinions, personal experiences and adventures, and my own personal name.

2. The style that I write in, and the choice of words and sentence structures that I use. The way you write, whether dramatic, suspenseful, comedic, or whatever genre, is unique to each individual. Eventually, after hopefully several novels, a reader can sense the style of the writer, that is to say, his or her essence, and perhaps even his or her character. J.K. Rowling, for example, has her own style, which people can instantly recognize.

When it comes to entertaining for a living, the art of the creator is ultimately, in a way, selling yourself: you sell your vision, your ideas, your thoughts, your perception, your depiction, interpretation, whatever. You hope to draw in a consumer who not only takes in all your work but also swallows, well, you. No matter how separate a piece of work is from an author, ultimately, it is still a part of them, because it came from them. There are some that boldly avoid this direction as they create pieces that are far from their true nature, and there are those that lovingly embrace it. Musicians, writers, and filmmakers all go through this struggle of balance or extremity. However, when an artist gets very personal, it opens the door for vulnerability. Look at Chris Carraba of Dashboard Confessional, who wears his heart on his sleeve and relives every painful memory he can think of in all his songs (I do guilty-pleasurely (sp?) love his music, but he's still kind of a bitch). He's now made millions. Look at Antwone Fisher, written by Antwone Fisher, himself, who literally exposed his deeply intimate problems on screen for the world to see. The film was critically acclaimed. But I wonder how he now feels, knowing that everyone knows who he is. Not just by face, but by character and past. I guess, maybe that's the key to it all--not giving a fuck about what people think. The best inspiration comes from your life. As they say, write what you know.

Chuck Klosterman (Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, Killing Yourself To Live) and Tucker Max (I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell) are two writers who write about two completely different things yet essentially focus on the same theme: themselves. Some may call this narcissism, but to write about real life instead of a fictional world somehow breaks down that barrier of connection. In fictional works, readers could think that the main character was like their friend because they got to know him or her so well. But, because the mere fact that you live in the same world, same reality as the character/person, breathe the same air they do and experience the things you do, that connection is only stronger. Their existence reaffirms your own. Chuck Klosterman writes about the thing he loves: pop culture. Yet he also realizes certain philosophical tendencies that exist within in this realm. The only way to write about it, though, is to write about himself. The philosophical experience is unique to every single person, and the only way to truly interpret it. He wants people to share in his passion and think about things the way he does. He sells himself to get his points across.

Tucker Max also writes about the things he loves: drinking and fucking. And he's not afraid to admit. He revels in his dirtbagness, his assholeness, his low standards and morals. He fuckin' brags about it. I recently read Tucker Tries Buttsex, Hilarity Does Not Ensue--it was the the most degrading story I have ever read. And he even prefaces it by saying he knows how awful of a human being he is. Yet (admittedly and guiltily), I laughed my fucking ass off. Because he did these things, not only did it reaffirm my own good character (because I hope to God I never do something like that) but also let me experience something unfathomable yet somehow realistic. This goes to the point of even modern day horror cinema referred to as torture porn (Saw, Hostel, The Hills Have Eyes). We pay to see people get fucked up. Although we judge Tucker Max as vile and offensive and inhuman, the joke's on us because we are the ones that pay to be entertained by this. Because we like to experiences things outside our comfort zone, or our nature. Because of us, he's a millionaire for being an asshole.

I'm struggling to find the delicate balance between revealing certain things about myself and talking about the things I love in an analytical fashion in my writing. I do not like to rule out subjectivity in writing because the most valid reason one could have for an opinion is that it is simply what they think. Their past and perception of the world has shaped the thoughts and ideas that they have. There are even consequences to opening up on page or screen even if it does not directly affect you It could affect those in your life. The people you write about, or base your characters off of, can feel misrepresented or even hurt that you would reveal things about their lives and personalities. The best artists to me then are the ones that are the bravest--they bare their soul, which creates an intimate, personal experience that connects to audiences on whole new levels. They are not afraid of the vulnerability. Or maybe they are, but this is one way to battle it instead of bottling it up inside. The artist becomes an inspiration, or simply another mentor. While I certainly try to perform my number two way of putting myself in writing through style, the number one way is still a struggle. I hope I'm getting better at it, but fuck, selling yourself is an art form in and of itself.

A Day in the Life (Of Me) Playlist
1. Good Morning (Intro) by Kanye West
2. Be by Common
3. Daydreamin' by Lupe Fiasco feat. Jill Scott
4. Trying To Find A Balance by Atmosphere
5. Rainy Day Women #12 and #35 by Bob Dylan
6. Because I Got High by Afroman
7. I'm Chillin' by The Game
8. Bohemian Like You by The Dandy Warhols
9. We Are All On Drugs by Weezer
10. Alpha Beta Gaga by Air
11. Maria by Green Day
12. Love and Marriage by Frank Sinatra
13. In My Life by The Beatles
14. Everything's Not Lost by Coldplay
15. Los Angeles, I'm Yours by The Decemberists
16. People Are Strange by The Doors
17. Lightning Rod by Guster
18. Shimmy Shimmy Ya by Ol' Dirty Bastard
19. Dazed and Confused by Led Zepellin
20. Long Nights by Eddie Vedder
21. Don't You Forget About Me by The Simple Minds
22. Donate by My Morning Jacket
23. Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve
24. Tomorrow Comes Today by Gorillaz

My Morning and Evening with My Morning Jacket

2008-06-13T02:39:00.000-07:00

I could only find bologna in the fridge.

After being gone from my house all day, it has come to my attention that my fridge is severely lacking the essential late night munchies that I have been accustomed to coming home to after a long day of work and then fun for the past year at school. And that's too bad because on the drive home I was really looking forward to having a great midnight snack as I wrote of my experience with My Morning Jacket's phenomenal new album Evil Urges.

I'm a man that has a very particular way of listening to music. I do not only judge an album by its pure musical qualities but also with the experiences that go along with it, and how these lyrics and notes influence our perception of the environment around us, along with taking into account what mood we are in, and the current topics on our mind. I know, it's meticulous, but what can I say, I'm a little bit OCD. Or as my dear friend, let's call her Cobra for now, says, "God, you're such a virgo."

My morning began with the excited nervousness of finally listening to this album after weeks of waiting for it. I bought the album last night, hoping it would be as good as critics had been claiming it to be while not trying to expect too much. I find that high expectations for music, or anything for that matter, do not let a person realistically judge something's or someone's talent or level. Music, for example, should be listened to at a neutral level. This is hard for people, and especially me, as everything influences the prepurchase process and perception of something.

Satisfaction is a function of perception minus expectations. But here's the great kicker: MMJ knows this fact and decides to fuck with it, blowing your mind. Will Hermes of Rolling Stone writes, "But coming from a young band whose first three albums earned them a reputation as hairy torchbearers of guitar-driven classick rock, the title is also about messing with expectations. More so than 2005's mildly experimental Z, Evil Urges explodes the band's sound with the same kind of creative leap that Wilco took on Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Radiohead took on Kid A." That's quite an impressive comparison, I gotta say.

I've had three different experiences with this album today. I listened to it three different times in which I was in a different mood and different state of mind.

The first time--7:45 a.m. to 8:30 a.m., taking the 5 to the 134 to the 2 to the 5 to the 110 to the 10 to get to my Santa Monica internship, stuck in fucking L.A. morning traffic.

The second time--5:45 p.m. to 6:30 p.m., driving to the frat from the internship, stuck again in horrific rush hour traffic and anticipating the Lakers-Celtic Game 4.

The third time--1:30 a.m. to 2:15 a.m., driving from the frat to home after a disappointing Lakers game, an excellent Kung Fu Panda viewing (This movie fuckin' rocks! Highly recommended!), and being a little bit admittedly under the influence.

I can wholeheartedly and confidently say that this album is fucking amazing because it was great all three times.

The song "Evil Urges" first blasted from my Hyrbrid's speakers at 7:40 a.m. As this was the first time I was going to hear this song, and this album wholly, I had no idea what to really expect except the hope that it would be a great album starter. I won't lie when I say it threw me off. Jim James' voice was doing some weird higher pitched thing than he normally does. The guitar intro started amazingly, full of lust and mystery, the hint of something sinister lying deeper within the song. And then all the sudden, the song takes on a happy note, still sung in the Prince-like falsetto. I felt like it was commenting on the fact of evil urges themselves--there can lying something dark, but at the same time, a relishment of giving into sin. It's almost like Jim James is prefacing the album with the disclaimer: give into this album and everything with it. Come over to the dark side, it's a good time. And damn right it is. When I listened to it the second time, it put me in a great mood as I was just getting off work. The third time, driving through Downtown's beautiful Skyline on the 110 at such a late hour and feeling like I was floating, I was hooked.

The second song "Touch Me I'm Going To Scream, Pt. 1" is probably my least favorite song on the album, although that's not saying much as it's relative to the rest of the album. I love this song, but I just love other songs more. Just like "Evil Urges," the different musical tone of James' voice threw me off because I'm so used to the way he sounds on the other albums.

The third song woke me up in the morning. I was exhausted. It was early in the morning, so I started dozing off. But this song, the weirdest, most experimental song of their career, made me alert again. Here, James channels Prince literally, complete with high falsetto, sexy tempo, and dangerous bass. The band then joins in with a kinda Satanic chorus of the song's name "Highly Suspicious." I dig it just for its sheer guilty pleasure factor.

I have had a lot of conflict with "I'm Amazed." This was the first song of the album I heard--it was the only single distributed on iTunes, and playing on radio for that matter (besides the last song of the album, but I'll get to that). At first, it reminded me of their Tennesee Fire and At Dawn days, in which they made great music still, but it's not the band that has grown, the band that I've come to love. It's just too country for me. But on the second hearing of this song after work, it finally took on a whole new meaning for me. The soft uptempo guitar hooks draws you in as James sings of the wonders and amazement of simple life around him. I definitely respect that. As a single, I didn't appreciate this song because, well, it just didn't feel like a single to me. I don't think MMJ is a singles-band anyway. In context with the rest of the album, though, this song is the first "normal" MMJ song, and it succeeds tremendously in that way.

After the six cups of coffee I drank at work today, I was definitely wired when I listened to the soothing and relaxing fifth song "Thank You Too!", James love ode and deep gratitude to the girl who gave him the time of day. The band's heavenly harmony manifests his sincere and genuine love for a girl that seems to deserve it. Paul Rudd could come up to me right now and say, "You know how I know you're gay? Because this song makes you feel like you could fall in love with this girl." I would absolutely agree with him.

"Sec Walkin" initially makes me feel like I'm watching a haunting horror film or some obscure indie film like Donnie Darko. Then, the opening versus transforms the song into a lovely song of longing, that, in my perception and interpretation, speaks of travel and connection.

"Two Halves" is another harmonic song that reminds me of The Beatles and Beach Boys with its easy sing-along chorus and affectionate lyrics about dealing with the past, looking forward to the future, and wanting the innocence of being young and having the experience and knowledge of getting older. It's contemplative but puts me in a good mood.

The ambling and rambling "Librarian" feels like going on a walk with no final destination. It moves forward at a steady pace and beat. Without a musical change-up in chorus, the song feels like a primitive version of new songs, which makes sense as James sings about the simplistic natural beauty and yearn for a librarian. He describes her as "simple little beauty--heaven in your breath. The simplest of pleasures--the world at it's best." This simple song is definitely one of the best on the album.

"Look At You" is reminiscent of MMJ's live album Okonokos. It's just the right mix of sweet solo guitar, hermosa lyrics, and tribute to that special someone. "Such a glowing example of peace and glory." Hell yeah, it is.

After these really chill songs, "Aluminum Park" opens with a rocking guitar medley that brings you out of your complacent funk and makes you wanna party. It's the rally song of the album.

"Remnants" bring back serious epic rock. MMJ can be sweet and lovely at times, but people, remember this: they're from the South, and they're gonna bring their Southern badass motherfucker attitude straight to your ears. Even after all their change, they still have remnants of their former days.

And so begins the monumental two part album closer.

"Smokin From Shootin" makes the listener aware of the album so far, and whether it's good or not. He first sings, "Have you had enough excitement now? More than you ever did?" When I first heard this, I immediately thought, "Hell no! More!" The song then turns into an inspiring meditation on faith (religious and spiritual) and its role in life.

But "Touch Me I'm Going To Scream, Pt. 2" is the song this album was made for, the song we've all been waiting for secretly since the opening chord. I finally just figured out what other song this one reminds me of! Don't laugh, but Madonna's "Hung Up" but only that kickass recurring high pitched, wind instrument sounding beat. Anyway, obviously this song is way fucking better, though. I first heard this song through a link the Cobra sent to me via Facebook. The first time I heard it, I knew MMJ was going in different places while staying true to their essence. Now, having listened to this song four times (I'm listening to it right now as I literally write this sentence), I can surely claim that MMJ have accomplished the difficult task of creating an awesome album closer. The album closer is clutch--it's the band's final statement to the fans. I am sorry, though, that I heard this song first a while ago--the experience of listening to it for the first time after hearing the rest of the album for the first time is much more different than hearing this song first and then the rest of the album. It's like knowing the ending to a movie and nothing else about it.

Did you know that originally John Lennon wanted "I Want You (She's So Heavy) to be the album closer and their final statement to the fans before disbanding on Abbey Road, but the record company thought it was too dark, so they changed it to that medley consisting of "Golden Slumbers," "Carry That Weight," "The End," and "Her Majesty"? Yeah, think of this last song like that. The song is slinky, it's sexy, it's hypnotic, dark, intense, haunting, lustful, dangerous, sinister, scary, and purely epic.

At 2:15 a.m., I was really close to my exit on the 5 and had only made it to track five. I had this deep desire to listen to "Touch Me, Pt. 2" and have it finish exactly when I parked the car in my driveway--I figured it would be an appropriate and symbolic end to my long Thursday. The song began. The "ahhhs" of the song, the long-distance range of James' piercing voice swallowed me whole as I turned the volume on my speakers to 50. The window was down, the wind stung my face. I donno, man, I just felt alive. Although that feeling could have come from my bladder, which was telling me "Dude, I gotta take a fuckin' piss! Hurry up!" I got off the freeway and slowed the car down to a humorous 5 miles per hour, against my bladder's wishes. I took my time driving up my street. I crept into my driveway, not making a sound except for the final chords of the song. I parked the car, and the song ended. Track fourteen, the six second epilogue "Good Intentions," bursted with fake audience applause and concluded with a simple "Ok, Cool." (sidenote: I love the dichotomy of the album opener "Evil Urges" against its opposite and possible equal "Good Intentions"). And just like that, the album was over, and so was my day. Jim James last words to us are "Oh this feeling! It is wonderful! Don't you ever turn it off!" With a band like My Morning Jacket, I think this beauty won't be turned off for a long time.

Stupidity Equals Money, Just Ask Adam Sandler

2008-06-12T13:09:00.000-07:00

I recently saw Adam Sandler''s latest flick You Don't Mess With The Zohan, and I can honestly say that it is one of the worst films of 2008 and rivals such classics as Catwoman and I Know Who Killed Me (which is a masterpiece of crap in its own right). Back when I was a young buck, full of naivete and bathroom humor, Sandler was a god among men. Billy Madison, The Waterboy, Happy Gilmore, Big Daddy--the Sandman delivered the goods by acting like a moron onscreen. He's the forever manchild. And you know what? I still love those movies for the sheer stupidity. But that was when Sandler was unaware of it--it was just his sense of humor. Years later, he has become more conscious and self-aware of his style of comedy--he's becoming a character of himself. So he's ventured into some new territories.

Sandler went dramatic for a while, busting out somewhat notable films such as Spanlish and Reign Over Me. I give him a B for effort for those films, but Punch-Drunk Love blew me away. Who knew the Sandman could actually act?! Yet, instead of pursuing this kind of career, he's strayed far from it. I won't lie--he actually does make a great leading man for romantic comedies as seen opposite Drew Barrymore in The Wedding Singer and 50 First Dates. But it was the descent into pure absurdity as seen through the film Little Nicky that Sandler has never recuperated from. It was just too childish and immature. From that point on, Sandler tried to mature into an adult comedian, busting out conventional flare like The Longest Yard, Click, I Now Pronounce You Chuck And Larry, and Anger Management. The bigger Sandler got, the more notable actors he started working with, slowly making his way to the A-list. But here's the kicker: these movies have made 100s of millions of dollars! Sandler now has nine, yes, that's right, nine films that have crossed the $100 million mark.

You Don't Mess With The Zohan could possibly his stupidest movie ever. Filled with sex, sex, sex jabs and inside jokes about the Jewish culture (apparently Israelis brush their teeth with hummus?), the movie was just simply boring. Of course it got me to laugh at some moments (Zohan's dolphin swim, his threat to Paul Mitchell), and it had the gorgeous Emmanuelle Chriqui (is it me or is Sandler now getting really really fucking hot women to act opposite him--see: Kate Beckinsale, Jessica Biel, and Marisa Tomei). But the movie just goes all over the place from sex comedy to political satire on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict to this whole thing about him being a metrosexual hairdresser. I donno, it was just boring and not creative even though the concept was quite original (apparently, though, there is an actual Zohan in real life. I saw some LA Times article on it). What really hurt the most, though? The fact that Robert Smigel of Saturday Night Live cartoon and Triumph the Insult Comic Dog fame and my one of my personal (and Hollywood's) favorites Judd Apatow cowrote this piece of crap. How the fuck did they get involved?

Now don't get me wrong. I love Adam Sandler to death. In my childhood, he along with Jim Carrey were my favorite actors. He can be funny, and he seems like one of the coolest, most down-to-earth guys ever. I feel like we could be drinking buddies. But his movies just plain suck. After his next film Bedtime Stories, he'll be coming out with a comedy directed by Judd Apatow called Funny People, set in the world of stand-up comedy. I won't lie when I say I'm nervous about it. I don't want Apatow to descend into this bullshit humor. The cast is fantastic, though, as it involves recurring Apatow actors Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, and Leslie Mann, and welcomes newcomers to the group Eric Bana (who knew he could do funny?) and Jason Schwartzmann. The cast gives me hope, and who know, maybe Apatow and Sandler will actually do right by this one. But in Hollywood, though, who cares if the movie's good as long as it makes money.

The Money Playlist (coming soon)

Red Falls Between Silver and Gold

2008-06-05T00:19:00.001-07:00

Today, three very important things happened:

1. Three black boys wearing women's clothing, Uggs, and odd piercings were arrested at The Bookstore for shoplifting. They were seriously like 16 year old boys with very tight shirts, girl's tight jeans, girl Uggs, and earrings that spelled out "Danielle." They all had the same pair of earrings oddly enough. The thing I wondered the most, though: were they trying to steal men's clothing or women's?

2. I bought Weezer's Red Album, which I will review in a second.

3. I finally embraced the digital music distribution.

Weezer debuted with The Blue Album in 1994. Seven years later, they came out with The Green Album. Seven more years later, they've returned with their wackiest and most experimental album yet--The Red Album. This album is all over the place, and I fuckin' love it save 2 or 3 songs, which are okay at best. Before I proceed with a track by track commentary, I must give the disclaimer that I truly believe this album is only great for the true fans and the band itself. Here we go.

"Troublemaker"-the irresistibly catchy album opener. Rivers here pretty much announces the theme of the album: we are gonna do whatever the fuck we want and have a good time doing it. It's very different from their first album opener ever "My Name Is Jonas," where Rivers more or less gave the attitude of "this is who we are, we hope you like it." The lyrics are pretty simple and somewhat stupid, though.

"The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn)"--Weezer's first of two over six minute songs. It has a complete schizophrenic feeling as the band switches different genres from power ballad to hard rock to Eminem-like rap. Many critics have railed this song because of its lack of focus. It just jumps around too many genres too quickly, they say. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But I respectfully disagree: anyone ever hear a song called "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen?

"Pork and Beans"--I still love this fucking song. See other Weezer post below for commentary. The video is pretty sweet, but it didn't quite work for me since I already saw South Park do nearly the same thing--but with a lot more violence and shots to the head.

"Heart Songs"--The album's best song. Rivers leads us through his musical journey as he reflects back on listening to bands from ABBA to Devo to Iron Maiden. Great lyrics with a sweet soothing guitar. Instead of the typical lovely girl Rivers writes about, he writes about his other big love in life: music. The line about Nirvana is especially amazing. "Back in 1991 I wasn't having any fun / Until my roommate said 'Cmon' and put a brand new record on / It had a baby on it, he was naked on it / And then I heard the chord that broke the chains upon me." Truly a testament to the power of music and its personal impact on people.

"Everybody Get Dangerous"--Another fun song about being stupid and doing stupid shit. It seems like Weezer wanted to make a rock song that people could dance to. I do admit, though, some of the shit Rivers thinks is dangerous and fatal, well, they're kinda lame. Then again, he's from the Midwest.

"Dreamin'"--Definitely one of the three songs I can live without on this album. I mean, I dig the music, but the lyrics are incredibly cheesy. "I'm dreamin' in the morning / I'm dreaming all through the night / And when I'm dreamin' I know that it's all right." The music does get dream-like as the progression and form changes when Brian Bell's vocals kick in, but Rivers, what happened,? You used to know how to rhyme. The song also could have done without the very last four lines of lyrics, in which "I don't wanna get with your program" is repeated three times.

"Thought I Knew"--Here is where Weezer starts taking risks. Brian Bell wrote the song and sings on this one. When a song does not have Rivers singing, it immediately disorients me. I first think, "This ain't the Weeze." However, as a song, I love it. The lyrics aren't too simplistic or cheesy, and that soloing guitar throughout is just fuckin' sweet. It's a catchy midtempo song. Rivers even plays drums on it, and Patrick switches to guitar! I dig it.

"Cold Dark World"--Another mix-up as bassist Scott Shriner sings Rivers' lyrics. You can definitely tell they are his lyrics, but the change in voice and somewhat rap-style verses with emotionally sung choruses make for a creepy and at the same time charming song. The Bon Jovi-like "wah wah" is a nice treat, too. I also dig this song.

"Automatic"--I love the music in this one, but Pat's voice and lyrics just don't do it for me. Another song I could live without. Pat says this song is about his family and his deep love for the. Yeah, it's nice and all, but it's still corny.

"The Angel and The One"--the album's second or third best song, I haven't decided yet. Rivers states that this song came about because he wanted to break away from the traditional three minute power ballad. For that alone, I give him mad props. The song is lovely yet haunting, uncharacteristic yet totally Weezer. It has this air of spirituality, for which Rivers aims. Not as great an album closer as "Only In Dreams" (I don't think anything ever will), but it's damn near close. Well, so is "Haunt You Every Day" from Make Believe.

Bonus Tracks from the Deluxe Edition:
---all these songs are very unWeezer yet totally them, too. To me, they seem appropriate to be bonus tracks because they all could have easily been album closers.

"Miss Sweeney"--Rivers sings this one as if he has to go to the bathroom really badly but has to hold it for the time being. Once he hits the chorus, though, he doesn't give a fuck. Apparently, love makes you forget you gotta take a piss. And if that's not love, I don't know what is.

"Pig"--This perpetually could have been a better album closer. Here, Rivers gets reflective on his life and looks back on it with no regrets. Well, metaphorically, anyway. He eerily looks into his future, too, and comments on his inevitable death. Ultimately, this serious song talks about having fun. I'm starting to think that Rivers has adopted the "Don't Worry About It" philosophy.

"The Spider"--another great lyrical song with images of life, death, and everything in between. However, I do have two critiques. The song never picks up steam. It reminds me of Ben Kweller's "On My Way" but with less funny lyrics. I wanted the song to go somewhere, but it stays in the same progression for like 5 minutes. And plus, didn't Rivers already use a bug as a metaphor for loss and death in Pinkerton's "Butterfly"?

"King"--Another Pat Wilson song, but it fuckin' rocks! His voice is demanding and troubling. When he sings, "I'm king," for some reason, I get an image of Tony Montana from Scarface seeing the blimp that reads, "The World Is Yours." This song also sounds like a completely different band. I wonder what it would have been like with Rivers singing it. I wish this song had been on the album instead of "Dreamin'," "Everybody Get Dangerous," or "Automatic." Maybe "Troublemaker" too, but that song definitely has its moments. "King" also could have closed the album.

"It's Easy"--the last song. Weezer rocks on acoustics! They should really look into doing an acoustic CD or something. I have a lot of their songs in acoustic like "No One Else" and "Hit Me Baby One More Time" and "The Good Life" and they are all just amazing and powerful. This song is fun. It makes you want to bust out a guitar and just jam with your friends. It's easy.

Ultimately, I give this album 3 1/2 stars out of four. I applaud Weezer's experimentation and thinking outside the box. I remember reading the Rolling Stone article when Make Believe came out. It portrayed the band as troubled and doomed. Rivers came off as a control freak, and the band members seemed to hate him. Because of their lack of cohesion, well, the album sucks. It's definitely their worst one. In this one, Rivers and the band have grown up and spiritually evolved. The album's tone shows off a more relaxed and funloving band. This time around, they decided to be open to each other's influences and make a collaborative effort. Some songs miss. However, when a band reinvents itself as a band, and not defined by its lead singer for the first time, well, they're not going to get it right the first time. It's almost like learning how to play the guitar all over again. But I've got faith that they'll perfect this refound unity on their seventh album. So who the fuck cares what critics think? I know this record is going to be in my car stereo all summer, blasting it with the window down.

Oh, and on a sidenote, today, I embraced the digital music distribution revolution! Unknowingly (don't ask me how), I had already bought the first three songs from this album as singles. So I was not willing to shell out 10 bucks for 7 more songs. Hence, I decided to get the Deluxe Edition because I thought it would be worth more. And then when I went to Best Buy to get it, it was nearly 20 bucks! Fuck that! So I hit up iTunes, which I normally only do for new bands or singles. I realized a couple of things:

1. You can still get the digital booklet online. I mean, sure, having the actual CD booklet is sweet, but how many times do you look back to it seriously? However, Apple should figure out a way to put this digital booklet on iPods.
2. I got the track "It's Easy" because it was through iTunes.
3. If I had bought the CD, I was just going to put it on my iTunes anyway.
4. Because I had bought the first three songs, I was able to "Complete This Album," and actually saved some money!

iTunes has become the number one music distributor, beating Wal-Mart! I mean, think about that, seriously. It may be a SLOW takeover, but it's still coming.

Remember Remembering?

2008-06-02T21:10:00.000-07:00

Now, I agree with the general consensus among fans and critics that Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (damn, what a mouthful) was no worse nor no better than any of the first three. In fact, I've heard several people say that this one is actually the third best movie in the series, with Temple of Doom in that oh-so-coveted fourth place spot. With this in mind, why the fuck did Hollywood even attempt to make a fourth movie, knowing full well the risk of this movie possibly tarnishing the legacy of an amazing trilogy?

As Rogers Waters once sung, "Money: it's a hit. Don't give me that goody good bullshit." And this, dear readers, is the driving force behind the Hollywood studio system today. Hollywood has had to adapt to evolving audience taste for the last twenty years. The average viewer's attention span is slowly decreasing, making him or her in constant need of action, thrill, suspense, and, overall, entertainment. The consistent desire for thrill rivals the ultimate goal for studios: profit. A moneymaking hit is no longer guaranteed in today's entertainment world. Studios are worried to shell out hundreds of millions of dollars on something new, something radical, groundbreaking because audiences may be fearful or loathe to this aspect.

So where does Hollywood turn to for a better guarantee? The past. Nostalgia. Familiarity. Security. Think back to last summer's blockbusters: Spiderman 3 (based on the old comic books), Shrek The Third (channeling and demythologizing children's fairy tales), Pirates of the Caribbean 3 (based off the old Disney ride), Transformers (inspired by the 80s toys and cartoon), and so much more. Studios bank on people to flock to these films because of nostalgia. If it's based on something that already had popularity, it's hopefully bound to make some money because the film already has an audience. Not only this, postmodern cinema also invokes the fusion of other genres to spice things up. They turned Starsky & Hutch into a comedy; apparently, Jonah Hill is remaking 21 Jump Street. GI Joe and The A-Team will soon be exploding into theaters. Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?! WHERE IS THE ORIGINALITY OF BRAND NEW IDEAS?!

Indy 4 had a lot to deal with, but mostly it had to combat two main challenges: how to handle Harrison Ford's old age and how to show something new while staying true to its roots. SPOILER ALERT: the only way a new Indiana Jones film would work is if they made it somewhat realistic. Now this is not to say that the movie is realistic by any means; hell no! I mean, there are fuckin' aliens in the film. But it made Indy realistic by staying true to Ford's age. His first words in the film reference his old age and how "it" used to be easier. In order for Ford to mention this, the time period of Indy also had to evolve: the film is now set in the greaser-soc challenged 50s that Reagan adored. But these two answers to the film's biggest challenges present several problems. While Indiana Jones is still that same great archeologist adventurer that we have come to know and love, everything else around him has changed. You've got a new sidekick, who off the bat, is working for the Russians, then for the CIA, then for the Russians again. You've got Indy's illegitimate son, played by Shia LaBeouf, who channels Brando's The Wild One, and that's pretty much it. The dude fuckin' swings with monkeys--seriously? Karen Allen comes back as Indy's first love, and they pick up where we last left them, arguing like animals and then still making those puppy dog eyes. I'm not even gonna mention Blanchett's supposed Russian accent. No one in this film had anything to do except Indy! Lastly, the last three Indy films all had one thing in common: although there was an element of the supernatural in each film, these moments were still grounded in reality because they were based off mystical and spiritual entities: the Lost Ark, the rocks from ToD, the Holy Grail. This movie attempts to create its own mythology (Lucas claims there are actual crystal skulls) but Spielberg's fascination with sci-fi that prompts him to throw in random aliens and have a spaceship fly off into space. Close Encounters of the Third Kind, anyone? It was just too unbelievable and cheesy to accept. So we've got the same great character, but an okay atmosphere, environment, plot, and supporting characters. No worse but no better, either.

I miss the days when we could simply look at one film as its own entity. Now, everything seems to be a remake: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Halloween, Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, GI Joe, The A-Team. What hurts me most is this brand new movie American Teen, which I'll admit, looks intriguing and entertaining, but that fuckin' poster ruins it for me because of its direct ripoff to The Breakfast Club, my favorite movie of all time. I don't want a new Club; I like mine just the way it is. I like looking back on it and remembering how good it was for me, how good it still is to me. This Hollywood air raid of nostalgia is tarnishing my idealistic views of movies I've come to know and love. And here's another thing: while I adore this film, I realize that not everyone loves or even likes this film. Hell, kids today may not have even ever heard of it. Is this really the best way to get people to see an apparently stunning real-life documentary, by comparing it to an exaggerated 80s pop movie?

Postmodernism is creating schizophrenia everywhere--there is no singular identity anymore. Everything is just consuming everything. With everything being "updated" with today's technology, I'm starting to forget what it's like to remember what it was like to remember something with fondness. Now don't get me wrong, there are still phenomenal postmodern films out there (see: any Apatow film, The Dark Knight which is going to be fuckin' sweet, and of course IRON MAN), but seriously, will someone show me something new already?

Nostalgia Mix:
1. I Remember The Days by The Blue Van
2. The Past and Pending by The Shins
3. Yesterday by The Beatles
4. The Times They Are A-Changin by Bob Dylan
5. Use of Time by 311
6. Past in Present by Feist
7. Redundant by Green Day
8. Time by Timbaland feat. She Wants Revenge
9. Good Times, Bad Times by Led Zepellin
10. Time Is Running Out by Muse
11. Nostalgia by Yanni (yeah, I put Yanni on a playlist)
12. Nostalgia by The Lost Art

Playlist available on my project playlist, see link above.

Coming Soon To A Blog Near You

2008-05-31T12:20:00.000-07:00

Just Added: http://www.playlist.com/user/27025078

This won't be a standard post. Here are just some things you can expect coming up soon:

1. Indiana Jones, the dilemma of nostalgia, and its context in postmodern Hollywood
2. The season 5 finale of Lost recap and commentary
3. More polaroid pictures (and standard photos)--I need to learn how to not bombard a post with pics
4. I Know Who Killed Me vs. Diary of the Dead--two scary movies based on realism, in ways you wouldn't expect
5. I'll be putting all playlists available for download through either a link or Project Playlist, if I can learn how to use it first ( http://www.playlist.com/user/27025078)

Enjoy!

Memorial Day Weekend Songs:
1. Ready for the Floor by Hot Chip
2. Billie Jean by Michael Jackson
3. Pork and Beans by Weezer
4. Nasty Numbers by Robbers on High Street
5. Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros by Flight of the Conchords
6. Everyone Nose (remix) by N.E.R.D., Kanye West, and Lupe Fiasco
7. Ola Kala by I'm From Barcelona
8. Mykonos by Fleet Foxes
9. Whistle for the Choir by The Fratellis
10. In One Ear and Out the Other by Fujiya & Miyagi
11. The Fatalist by Robbers on High Street
12. Wildcat by Ratatat
13. I Disappear by The Faint
14. Here Today, Gone Tomorrow by The Ramones
15. Series of Dreams by Bob Dylan
16. 4 Minutes by Madonna feat. Timbaland and Justin Timberlake
17. Beat It (cover) by Fall Out Boy feat. John Mayer

Bonus Tracks:
18. I Will Possess Your Heart by Death Cab For Cutie
19. Viva La Vida by Coldplay
20. Troublemaker by Weezer

Positively Polaroid

2008-05-29T15:02:00.000-07:00

Ahh, the polaroid. You will be missed! Created in 1963 by American Scientist Edwin Land, the polaroid instant camera and instant film has become an American staple. Polaroids can be used for several different purposes, but namely it answers the question: Can I see the photo now? Make-up artists have used it to take instant photos of application for referrals; photographers use it to preview lighting; some people simply want to see their photo after it is taken. Sadly, though, the digital camera and photography (or polaroids on steroids) have killed this time travel machine. In February 2008, the Polaroid Corporation announced its discontinuation of polaroid film. Fujifilm is now the sole distributor of instant film.

And that just fuckin' sucks.

Months ago, I went to the Fairfax High School Swap Meet. I love these junkyards. One man's junk is another man's treasure. I happened to be browsing through a table when I stumbled upon my treasure: a $10 polaroid camera. Without hesitation, I bought it. Ten minutes later, I did wonder whether I should have asked the seller whether it still worked or not, but I immediately put that disheartening notion out of my mind. I thought maybe I could buy polaroid film on eBay by the bulk, but that proved fruitless as these fuckin' swoopers come out of nowhere during the last hour and outbid me--this happened literally ten times in a row. Finally, though, I discovered that Target sold them, and I proceeded to buy 5 packs of ten. By the way, Polaroids are fucking expensive! It's nearly 20 bucks for 10 photos: do the math.

Ever since then, though, they have become worth the price because I get much more out of them than they are worth.

Polaroids have several different connotations. They have different layers of meanings to different people. To me, polaroids are life in an instant, in one singular moment. The best kind of polaroid pictures are the candid ones. In one polaroid film, you can almost capture the essence of a person. You could say, "Dude, that picture is so Tyler; Wow, that's such a Maria moment." The best candid photos are the ones that catch people being themselves when no one else is looking--they've taken off their mask.

Polaroids also give off the scent of nostalgia. Personally, when I think polaroid, I think 80s. It is literally capturing time in its small frame and making that moment become the past. With its quick flash and instant development, the transition from present to past quickens, thus invoking a sense of time travel. They also invoke nostalgia because of the sentimental home movie-feel they evoke. They have this amateur feel because of the odd lighting and thick film development texture. They are meant to not look professional. Because of this, not only do they give the air of authenticity, they capture true reality. Sure, it's your perception through that tiny square lens, but it's your real truth. No doctoring. No photoshop. No bullshit.

Buy a polaroid camera. Buy some film. Have fun with it before they run out. Who knows? You might be able to see the world for what it really is.

No playlist today, but for your viewing pleasure, polaroids from this past weekend (other albums coming soon!):

Mike Flores: Man or Beast?

2008-05-28T14:47:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about this post for awhile and what to write about. I know that I want to mention what I did this weekend, and I want to talk about its infusion with polaroids (I'll save the great Polaroid debate for the next post). But I always have this problem of "where do I start?" The beginning always seems like the most logical place, but really, where do beginnings begin and endings end if the past, present, and future, are really only displaced by 1 second intervals and events becoming memories. Once a present moment becomes something remembered in the mind of the individual, it becomes the past. Once what we think will happen starts occuring, it becomes the present, which becomes the past and so forth.

I guess I'll start with Mike Flores. This weekend, I went to lovely San Luis Obispo to visit my best friend Chad. Friday night, of course, we played many a game of beer pong (and dominated for that matter), but it was Saturday that was the highlight of the trip. Every year, Pismo Beach throws one of the largest Beerfests in the county. $65 tickets and over 80 imported beers equals everyone getting trashed. But alas, tickets were sold out. Chad's friend Rudy has been trying every year to attend Beerfest but the high cost of tickets and its quick sell-out rate has deterred him from doing so. As a result, Rudy, this year decided to throw his own Beerfest. We got there around 1 p.m. and immediately sampled some fine Old Speckled Hen--a mixture of Coors light and crap. It wasn't the best tasting beer, but it a was nice kickoff. Soon, everything starts getting awesome. The world starts spinning a bit, but Chadwick and I still power through. Around 7 p.m. and a cornucopia of beers later, we notice an old Mexican rocking a war colonel mustache and an aging beer belly walk into the party, sit down, and start drinking our beer. Curiousity getting the best of us, Chad and I decide to meet this mysterious man.

Chad: Hey, what's up, mate? I'm Chad.
Mike: I'm Mike. Mike Flores. But who are you really?
Chad: Umm, I'm Chad.
Mike: No really, who are you?
Chad: Umm, I like to surf and I want to be a firefighter.
Mike: No, you're lying to me. I'm looking into your soul, and it's telling me that you're lying. Who are you really?

At this point, Chad gives me a nervous look. Mike has firmly gripped his hand over Chad's and not let go. I decide to interject. I place my hand on Mike's shoulder and say, "Hey, man, I'm Kage. You know Chad?"

Mike: Get your fuckin' hand off me. I'm not gay. I don't swing that way.

Chad finally frees his hand from the titanic grip, and we both play some beer pong. Using our detective skills, we start asking several people the question of the hour: Who the fuck is Mike Flores?

Now, I don't know if it was because everyone was pretty drunk by 8 p.m. or that Mike was on something, but every encounter we had with him was filled with drunken, racial slurs. I caught some lines about Chinese people not having rights and Italians squeezing out the grease or something of the sort, but the moment that really stuck out to me was when I asked him if he smoked.

Me: So, Mike, you smoke?
Mike: No, why, you got some?
Me: No, dude, I don't. I'm just making conversation.
Mike: Fuck your conversation, man. I ain't no queer.
Me: I'm sorry, Mike. I didn't mean to offend you.
Mike: I will knock you out right now (he said this while never breaking eye contact with me).
Me: Ok, umm, I'm not gonna say anything.
Mike: You wanna smoke? Check this shit out.

Mike proceeds to pull out a bag of what looks like weed and coke mixed in one pile of drug glory.
The first thing I thought about was the photographer from only hours before.

Surfing with a hangover is one of the greatest and worst ideas a human could possibly have. After only getting 3 hours of sleep, Chad wakes me up to go surfing. The day could not have been any better: the sun was out, the waves were huge, and the wind was minimal. Now, the only thing I can say about my surfing experience is that being out of shape, smoking lots of cigarettes, and being hungover definitely did not contribute anything positive to the experience. Needless to say, I couldn't even paddle out past the waves, as they kept pushing me back towards shore. I proceeded to go back to the sand, throw up a little, and then dug a very large hole, where some sandcrabs bit me.

But hey, you should try everything once, right? At least that's what the photographer lady said. As we were loading the boards into the truck, a woman carrying a sweet Canon camera with a fist-size lens walked over to us and started telling Chad's friend Patti how beautiful she and her polka-dot designed board were, and how she just had to take a picture. We said, sure why not, this is a random, awkward, awesome encounter, how many times do you get a photo taken professionally? Well, one photo turned into 60, and we ended up having a mini photo shoot which involved talks of our majors, her career as a photographer in SLO, and the philosophy of trying everything once. The photographer said, "Life is short. How many opportunities do you get? When you see it, take it. Don't even think twice." She made a valid point and proceeded to make us feel extremely good about ourselves by giving us a plethora of compliments. Next time I get depressed, I'm definitely giving her a call.

Which brings me back to Mike Flores. I won't lie when I say I pondered the photographer's words and debated whether or not I should smoke with Mike Flores. After all, how many chances would I get to say that I did such a thing with a random, shady man that crashed Beerfest and proceeded to creep the fuck out of everyone there? Well, coming to that realization, I immediately looked at Chad and said, "Dude, let's bounce." Mike Flores yelled out some racial obscenity about Cubans and rafts (being that I had told him I was Cuban only minutes before) as we walked away. Sure, sometimes in life, you should try everything once, but sometimes you gotta realize, if you do the things that could kill you once, well, you may not be around to try anything else again.

An Ode To Mike Flores:
1. Ayo for Yayo by Andre Nikatina
2. Creep by Radiohead
3. Acid Raindrops by People Under The Stairs
4. Addicted by Amy Winehouse or Simple Plan
5. All Apologies by Nirvana
6. All Mixed Up by 311
7. American Terrorist by Lupe Fiasco
8. Because I Got High by Afroman
9. Belda-Beast by Iron Butterfly
10. Bitch Niggaz by Dr. Dre
11. Dope Nose by Weezer
12. Mama Said Knock You Out by LL Cool J
13. White Lines by Grandmaster Flash
14. Death or Glory by The Clash
15. Drug Ballad by Eminem
16. Chinese Children by Devendra Banhart
17. How I Could Just Kill A Man by Cypress Hill
18. Who Are You by The Who

I'll take some angst with that pork and beans

2008-05-21T15:08:00.001-07:00

Rivers Cuomo is the owner of a lonely heart. For a guy who is adored by millions, he seems to think that there is no one else that could possibly understand him. In a sense, it's understandable, too. The Weezer frontman has been pushed and pulled, loved and hated by fans and critics alike since the inception of his band. Weezer came out in the 90s during the grunge era when bands like Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Pearl Jam were making millions off of their Generation X angst towards girls, rules, society, morals, etc. Weezer and Nirvana actually have very similar lyrics. Both lead singers write about their incapable dads, their broken hearts, and their anger towards intolerant people. I feel like one of the only differences then is that no one really takes Weezer, or Rivers specifically, seriously. Through the progression of his career, Rivers has turned from skinny white kid to emo uber geek to, well, I guess he's stayed the same, but his clothes have just gotten weirder (see: Rivers' suit phase during the Green Album, his cowboy and moustache outfit for the Red Album). Of course people take Kurt Cobain seriously--he loved his heroin and killed himself. Now, please don't think I'm being insensitive. His death is one of rock music's--and pop culture's--saddest, greatest, and most important tragedies.

So why does Rivers get no respect? Some would say that he's just a whiny little bitch. But isn't that why we loved him in the first place? The Blue Album showed a subtle, personal side to songwriting. At times, he'd be making radio friendly hits like "Buddy Holly," but then he had those dark moments, namely "The World Has Turned and Left Me Here" and especially "Say It Ain't So" where he rages about isolation and addiction, respectively. From what I remember, fans and critics loved this notion, of encapsulating your heart on CD. So when Pinkerton came out, Rivers put it all on the line--he wrote about his long distant love in Asia, he wrote about his sexual inadequacies, he sung about the ones he fucked over, and lost for good. He wrote about his regrets. And we spurned him. We shunned him. Critics and fans railed this soul-bearing album, and Rivers retreated into isolation. No one understood the guy.

Years later, Pinkerton would be hailed as one of the major pioneers of the emo movement, which can be good or bad depending on how you look at it. Rivers went to Harvard, and the rest of the band did their own thing (side projects such as The Good Life, Space Twins, etc.). The diehard fans, though, wanted them some Weezer. The demand was undeniable. I personally didn't start listening to Weezer until they decided to make a comeback at the 1998 KROQ Almost Acoustic Christmas. I remember reading the playlist and thinking "Weezer, what the fuck is that?" Needless to say, when I heard that first drumbeat for "Undone (The Sweater Song)," not only did I know they were familiar, but I knew I had found an amazing band. Needless to say, when I first heard the opening distortion to "Tired of Sex" from Pinkerton, I knew I had found a band that I could relate to. Rivers may feel lonely himself, but he makes his fans feel like part of a community. He may think that the world has turned and left him, but for the fans, all we thought was "Wow, there's someone who thinks the way I think, feels the way I feel. Maybe I'm not the only one going through these things." Needless to say, they are still my favorite band.

The Green Album showcased Weezer's return to glory--lovesick lyrics with heavy metal/pop influences. The stark contrast between the new Weezer and old Weezer, though, was in the lyrics and meticulous songwriting. The lyrics were general and impersonal; the songwriting was too formulaic. It still sounded fuckin' great, but something was off. Because of its commercial success, Weezer tried to turn towards a more mainstream sound: Maladroit showcased typical Weezer but with more of an 80s power pop/rock sound, which, don't get me wrong, was okay, but it was too dissonant from previous Weezer material to garner attention.

Don't even get me started on Make Believe, Weezer's 5th outing. I'll just come right out and say it--I am not a fan of this album. It's got some real keepers ("This Is Such A Pity," "Freak Me Out," and "Haunt You Every Day"--which could be one of their most powerful album closers ever, perhaps behind "Only In Dreams"), but sweet geezus, songs like "Beverly Hills" and especially "My Best Friend" have no soul to them. In a sense, Rivers and Weezer sold out. Through lyrics such as "Your'e my best friend/ and I love you," it felt like Rivers was too fuckin' scared to show real emotion. To me, it seems like this album was for the record label, to get them off their backs. Take a look at "We Are All On Drugs." Rivers made it big on "Hash Pipe" when he talked about the fun and awkwardness of smoking bowls--it was a fun song that wouldn't be taken seriously. But "We Are All On Drugs," well, that song could definitely complement an anti-drug commercial. It's The Man saying "Don't do drugs, kids." It's not Rivers or the rest of the band.

So where am I going with this long rant? Because the real Weezer has come back to us. And you know what? They've matured, too, as heard in their new single "Pork and Beans." The song begins with a great guitar line, catchy and quirky. He then sings about getting older and losing his appeal with younger generations. He even takes a jab at the current music trend, singling out Timbaland. "Timbaland knows the way to reach the top of the charts / Maybe if I work with him I can perfect the art." I don't think he's bashing on Timbaland, but just on the state of the industry in which there's no personal touch to music anymore. And with this song, he's finally learned a true lesson: not caring about what others think. The Red Album, I'm hoping shows another reinvention of Weezer (hence the new color), where they play music, not to please people, but just for the sake of playing it, because they love it. "Pork and Beans" is pure Weezer: catchy guitar hooks, epic rock chorus, goofy yet personal lyrics. But there's something new: Rivers has finally gained his confidence. He sings:

"Imma do the things that I wanna do /
I ain't got a thing to prove to you /
I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans /
Excuse my manners if I make a scene /
I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like /
I'm fine and dandy with the me inside /
One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink /
I don't give a hoot about what you think"

This time, Rivers doesn't care if he's the owner of a lonely heart. He's happy the way he is. Even if this album doesn't make big money or isn't critically raved, what the fuck ever. I'm gonna go out and buy this album and love this album. And I don't give a hoot about what you think.

The Best of Weezer Playlist (in no particular order):
1. Hash Pipe
2. Island in the Sun
3. O Girlfriend
4. This is such a Pity
5. Freak Me Out
6. Haunt You Every Day
7. My Name Is Jonas
8. No One Else (live and acoustic)
9. Undone (The Sweater Song)
10. Buddy Holly
11. Say It Ain't So
12. Only in Dreams
13. Surf Wax America
14. Across The Sea
15. The Good Life
16. El Scorcho
17. Butterfly
18. Take Control
19. Death and Destruction
20. Slob
21. Slave
22. Hit Me Baby One More Time (cover)

"Oh yeah? You and what army?"

2008-05-20T13:48:00.000-07:00

So last night, I saw the little indie film that could Son of Rambow. Now, I'm just gonna throw it out there and say this movie isn't the greatest thing. Don't get me wrong, it's a good movie; it's fun. But it's not Garden State. It's not Little Miss Sunshine, and it definitely isn't Me and You and Everyone We Know. Every summer produces that one little independent film that people seek out amidst the blockbuster, special F/X clutter. These little independent films are the ones with emotional resonance, with witty dialogue, or obscure scenes of humor. And of course, the film has a great soundtrack.

As a whole, Son of Rambow was quite entertaining, but I felt like it didn't really emotionally impact me except make me re-appreciate that awesome decade known as the 80s and increase my desire to make a movie this summer.

SPOILER ALERT: The film follows two young British boys Lee Carter and William as they aspire to make a sequel to the 80s hit Rambo: First Blood. Their version of the film follows the Son of Rambo as he tries to save his father from the evil scarecrow, flying dogs, and an army of ninja assassins. Sounds absurd, right? But it's really quite believable. It reminded me a little bit of Be Kind Rewind because the films are shot on old-school VHS, giving it a wholly amateur feel. I wish the film had dug just a little bit deeper into the personal and psychological motivations of the kids, or at least given a reason as to why they chose to focus on Rambo out of all the other sweet 80s films.

But you know what? Who the fuck cares really. The film's small moments really made this movie worth the $8.50. There are scenes that use subtle CGI to showcase William performing certain Rambo stunts such as getting launched into the air by a seesaw, being launched by a giant waterhose, or being thrown into an oil pit. There are even small lines of dialogue that just make you laugh out loud because it's so random.

Kid 1: I'm gonna beat the snot out of you!
Kid 2: Oh yeah? You and what army?!
Kid 1: Army? That doesn't even make sense.

William: I think we should separate.
Lee: (5 second pause) OK!!!!!

Those probably aren't the best quotes from the movie. I donno, I guess it's one of those you have to see it kind of things.

Probably the best scene of whole movie was, as my buddy Scott put it, the parody of the film industry, in which all the kids of the 80s are at the "Hollywood club" where they dance, get high on scratch-n-sniffs, and do some mad drugs like mix Pop Rocks and Soda. One kid even runs out and vomits--typical Hollywood clubgoer.

It's the small things that make this movie. On a synedochic level, Son of Rambow represents the small movies out there like our favorite indie darlings. Sure, Iron Man was fucking badass. So Spiderman 3, Pirates 3, and Shrek The Third made 100s of millions of dollars their opening weekends. But in all honesty, did you really LOVE those films? Were they good movies? Ok, Iron Man was amazing, but could you connect with his character? Did you learn something about yourself? Were you inspired by Tony Stark (besides wanting an iron man suit of your own to blow shit up?) Now think back to those random small movies you've seen. I remember the first time I watched Just Friends. I swear I have never laughed harder in my life. And you know what, I could totally relate to Chris Brander and his plight. How many guys out there have been stuck in the friend zone? It's the little things that make great movies. Small things go big ways. Maybe Son of Rambow's main point is to show that you don't need huge effects, star power, or a $100 million dollar budget to make a blockbuster. All you need is a camcorder, friends, and a passion to portray life on the silver screen.

The Small Things Playlist
1. All The Small Things by Blink 182
2. The Little Things by Good Charlotte
3. Little Room by The White Stripes
4. Little Boxes by Malvina Reynolds
5. Little Weapon by Lupe Fiasco
6. Littlest Things by Lily Allen
7. Tiny Dancer by Elton John
8. Small Stakes by Spoon
9. A Time To Be So Small by Interpol
10. Tiny Cities Made of Ashes by Modest Mouse

It's About Time. . .

2008-05-18T20:45:00.000-07:00

It seriously has taken me forever to post something on this blog.
In all honesty, I have no idea what to write about. I've got some ideas here and there, but I really have no idea what I'm doing. In my wildest and most fantastic dreams, I envision a blog that thousands of people read every day, that movie studios try to bribe me to write good reviews about their films. But for now, I guess I have to enjoy it on a (extremely?) small-scale level.

Blogs are rapidly becoming (if not already) one of the most trusted sources of information and opinion. Which is interesting in and of itself since blogs are solely based on the personal and biased opinion of one person. People just can't trust paid-for advertisements anymore because they constantly bombard our awareness and attention spans. It is much easier and credible for people to trust word-of-mouth from friends or associates because they either enjoyed or hated something purely for its entertainment value. They weren't paid to do it. Take a look at Kanye West's blog. All he does is post stuff that he likes such as the new Coldplay song ("Viva La Vida") or The Dark Knight trailer (which will definitely be the best movie of the summer). And people trust this, because it's Kanye. He's not repping himself: he's promoting other things out of sheer love for them and a way to connect with his fans and introduce them to his interests. However, it's a give-and-take relationship. If we didn't have this constant bombardment of media advertisements, how would we know what's out there to enjoy?

For example, today, I was driving on the 405, and The Hulk stared me down from the side of some random building for about 2 miles before I finally passed him. He was about 15 feet tall and green as kush. But sweet geezus, I am sick and tired of CGI. A lot of times, CGI is just so obvious that it really makes you feel that the movie is not real. According to Cannes reports, CGI has ruined Indy 4, which is almost as disappointing as Spiderman 3 or Speed Racer. Obviously, it's not real, but the real fun in watching a movie is losing yourself in it. For some time, it becomes your reality. Sure, these billboards and posters reinforce, remind, and expose people to certain products and increase their awareness, but dammit, sometimes, I don't want to look at The Hulk. Sometimes, I would just like to enjoy the scenic, smog-filled side of the freeway. Although, if it weren't for this massive billboard, I may not have known (at least today, since I'm sure soon we'll be seeing TV spots plague the airwaves) that the film comes out June 13, 2008. Now, I have something to look forward to.

It's funny, though, that people constantly focus on the endpoint. These marketing campaigns for films can run for about a year or so and only increase in exposure as it gets closer to that opening date. The first weekend, instead of the film's total distribution length, defines a film as a success or failure in the eyes of the public. Marketers, studios, filmmakers, everyone involved in the movie is looking towards that end date. I sometimes wonder if they take the time to be aware of what their doing up to that date. Are they conscious / aware of what they are doing at that exact moment, or are they solely trying to complete these tasks to build toward something else?

When I saw the billboard, I immediately started thinking about June 13, a day that is really only significant because of The Hulk, a day that frankly is quite far in the future. Entranced by this thought, I didn't register anything else happening on the road. The next thing I knew, I was home. I had missed out on my entire 405 experience.

Writing this first post, I was nervous how it would come out, on what note I would end it on. Hell, I didn't even know what I was going to fuckin' write about. But I wrote. I just wrote, and here's what came out. In a way, a film's marketing campaign is its own movie. The trailers for Spiderman 3 made the film feel like it was going to be epic and kickass, but the actual movie broke my heart. Don't even get me started on Spiderman 3 right now. In my own selective attention, I choose to forget how bad the movie was and try to remember how sweet the trailer was. The trailer was part of the journey towards the final destination of seeing the movie--the means was more enjoyable than the ends. So, for a second, let's forget about the end and enjoy the means. Let's forget about the destination, for just a minute, and enjoy the journey. Sometimes, it may not be the most epic journey ever, but it's still part of life.

Journeys: From the Beginning to the End
1. Genesis by Justice
2. Bermuda Highway by My Morning Jacket
3. Have Love Will Travel by The Blue Van
4. Separate Ways (Worlds Apart) by Journey
5. Across The Sea by Weezer
6. Road Trippin' by The Red Hot Chili Peppers
7. Easy Rider by Iron Butterfly
8. Far Behind by Eddie Vedder
9. The Middle by Jimmy Eat World
10. Dead End Street by The Kinks
11. Crossroads by Cream
12. Destination Overdrive by Chromeo
13. Around The World by Daft Punk (or Wyclef Jean remix)
14. The Beginning of the End by Guster
15. The Distance by Cake
16. Forever Begins by Common
17. The Long and Winding Road by The Beatles
18. The End by The Doors