Am I blogging...or am I pitching my existence?
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| High Concept Am I blogging...or am I pitching my existence? |
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Saturday, March 26, 2005 The Pitch: It's like Silent Movie meets Quest For Fire! Haven't updated much because I've either had nothing to say, or no time to say it in. Today, inspired by Kung-Fu Hustle, I grabbed VCDs of King of Beggars and High Risk (because, dumb-ass that I am, I thought Stephen Chow and not Jackie Cheung was in it) on my way through Chinatown and a cheap DVD of God of Cookery. We've got to get something in front of our eyeballs because Edi and I, God help us, are working our way through the Spaced DVDs again. She can't even feign enthusiasm for all my many Bollywood flicks so we're at a bit of a standstill. And I've got the first eight episodes of Battlestar Galactica to watch, somehow, sometime that I can't imagine she'd be at all interested in.Other than that, it's been busy, busy, busy. We went to IKEA on my day off this week, which shows you how crazy it's been: going to IKEA was actually relaxing compared to any of my last two weeks. This week, I've got two days off and they're going to be filled with lunch dates, appointments to view our wedding space, uhh....some other wacky thing I can't remember, and Edi's sister in town for a few days. I really want to see The Best of Youth and it starts Thursday at the Balboa. It's six hours long (plus an hour dinner break in the middle), so I'm dubious if I can talk Edi into going with me--I can sit through a three hour movie without a twitch so I'm kinda excited by the idea of a six hour epic, but I am doubtful she'll feel the same. It drives me nuts that the Balboa is now playing all this adventurous stuff because it's a fucker to travel to. In other news, I've written the reviews for the S.C., but am holding off posting them since Hibbs asked me wait until he's written his. Fair enough, it being his blog and all, but I feel a bit foolish kind of sitting on my hands. I'm such a creature of habit--I'll be glad when my main forms of self-expression expand again beyond telling you what movies I've bought and bitching about comic books I've read. posted by Jeff | 5:39 PM | Tuesday, March 22, 2005 The Pitch: It's like Zelig meets Mr. Baseball! I go through periods--not always, but there are definitely periods--where I think I see people I know, where names in movie and t.v. credits ring bells for me, where the picture of that person makes me think about someone or someone else, and I start to wonder...When Edi and I first started dating, I was going through one of those periods. I remember seeing CQ with her and being utterly and completely convinced that one of the attractive Italian models was an ex-roommate of mine, and I searched for her name in the credits. I did the same thing (I can't remember for what or whom) when we saw Bartleby. (Amusingly, it wasn't until days later that I realized that one of the movies--About A Boy--did have the name of someone I went to high school with: a guy in my class I only knew of by name, who a mutual friend had told me was into music and incredible with production, who went on to make records with Beck.) It's been happening again recently. There was a woman in the lobby yesterday talking to one of the paralegals, her back turned to me, and the way she wore her hair I was sure it was someone who used to work here, back years later in search of a job. (Nope.) Or the bald guy talking with his buddies outside Starbuck's who I also thought was one of my old roommates. Or the woman who was Barry Bonds' girlfriend for nine years. Was she that popular girl in my high school class, the pretty brunette who, with the pretty blonde, was essentially the clique of girls who acted, more or less, like they were better than everyone? First name is right? Second name might be right? Hair color and eye color? Check. I know she ended up around here, at least for a bit (I totally dove behind a pillar rather than bump into her at a Peter Gabriel concert. Granted this was, ummmmm, 1987?) If I had ever attended any of my high school reunions (last year was the twentieth), I might be a bit more keyed in about these things: ho, ho, that can't be Kim testifying against Barry Bonds! She married an Italian architect and has been living in Genoa for the last fifteen years! And yet, I'm opposed to high school reunions. I hate the idea of them (people who served time in prison don't hold reunions, do they? High school reunions are just to help us think there's some difference...), I hate the idea of going to them (because I am not infinitely rich and powerful and therefore capable of rubbing it in the face of the people who were shitty to me), I hate how I feel when thinking about the idea of them (because knowing that I would hate to discover that some people were doing well, and would only appreciate their misery), and I hate what I realize about myself when thinking about them (that it's all caused, largely, by a hurt over not being accepted which is deeply, deeply childish). Part of me hopes Edi and I can become rich and powerful by 2009 so we can slam-dunk our 25 year reunions, but I think it's just better that I forget such an idea ever happened. Ex-cons get out of prison and they start new lives--that was my only goal when I was inside, and I'm glad for the one I have. But there's also the part of me that wants to know--or wants to think I know (as my poor, wonderful Edi has been dealing with all too much lately: she's taken to saying, "You know an awful lot that you didn't seem to know before they announced it" when we listen to DVD commentaries.)--and so I'd really like to know: is that her? Did the few last tatters of hope I held out for Bonds being an amazing player and family man, and not just a daring steroid user and chronic adulterer, get scattered to the four winds by the woman who was one of the pinnacles of what I found terrible and wrong about high school when I was in high school? Did the girl who always hung out and talked with her friends and the jocks and acted like nobody else existed, find herself in the life of the kept woman--the house in Arizona where she could entertain during spring training, the hotels where she stayed at the team rate, the hours spent listening to the man talk about himself, the empty rooms she thought she was filling when, in a way, she was merely part of their emptiness? Maybe it's better I don't know: at least there's the possibility for something richer to grow in my imagination than the simple bitterness the truth would carry. posted by Jeff | 12:20 PM | Monday, March 21, 2005 The Pitch: It's like High Concept meets Hey, Mr. DJ! Not much going on here, thank goodness. Co-worker is out sick so I'm working alone--it's been a while since that's happened...say, Tuesday or so.I got to bed later than I would have liked because Stereogum pointed me to Mark Vidler's MP3 page, which holds just a ton of interesting mash-ups the guy's created. The most recent, 'Wrapped Detective,' is a really clever working of 'Watching the Detectives,' 'King of Pain' and Lionel Ritchie's 'Hello,' along with a few other surprises. I only checked out a third or so of the songs but they ran the gamut from interesting to amazing, with my personal favorite being 'Karma in the Life,' John Lennon's part from 'A Day in the Life' mixed with the piano from Radiohead's 'Karma Police.' I don't think it'll get better, though, than playing for Edi a mash-up cut from a CD John gave me, of Freddy Mercury singing "The Game" over the piano of John Lennon's "Imagine." "Oh my God," she said, "I think I'm going to cry." Sure enough, her eyes were shiny with tears. Admittedly, we've been a bit emotional overall lately, but I did like her explanation after the fact: "It was perfect, because I've always had a secret love of Queen, and I've always liked the piano part of 'Imagine.' I just never liked the lyrics, with all that peace and love hippie shit being shoved down our throats." Actually, I can't remember if she used that phrasing or "all that peace and love shit the hippies kept shoving down our throats," because I was too busy laughing my ass off. The mash-up, ladies and gentlemen: saving brilliant hooks from the peace and love shit the hippies kept shoving down our throats. posted by Jeff | 8:45 AM | Saturday, March 19, 2005 The Pitch: It's like Light Sleeper meets Real Genius! I finally, finally, finally got a good night's sleep last night and I can't tell you how happy I am about that. And the newsletter is done, and I did my reviews for the S.C., and I'm off work in an hour and a half and it's been quiet after a day of intermittent, dicky, annoying jobs. Of course, there's all sorts of stuff falling apart--people on the verge of dying, babies being born--so I'm a complete and utter selfish bastard to define my day by how well I slept but eh, what can I do. I'm a complete and utter selfish bastard, I guess.I also have a shitload of not much too say--our first deposit check finally got cashed so we know where and when we're getting married, but I'm not sure if I should announce it on our blog. On the one hand: who cares? My guess is somewhere between four and eleven people follow this blog (it's much, much closer to four). On the other hand, it would be nice if it were a joint announcement: it's something Edi should rightfully be a part of. Which sounds dumb, because she's already told several people over the phone and the email, but then, I have too. I don't know; I'll figure it out. I'm on week 3.5 of no video games, and I'm getting this very intense but very brief pangs and then it's gone. I'll be sitting in the living room, trying to figure out what to do for the next hour and suddenly You know, you nevvverrr finished Beyond Good & Evillll... will suddenly occur to me. Or You should reinstalllll Freeeeedom Force..., or Maybe you should trade in those games you never playyyyyyy...for creeeeeedit. The last one is the tempting one, because I know what I'd do with that credit--I'd spend it. On video games. Which I'd then play. I did have a really great experience with credit, recently--I traded in a handful of CDs I didn't want to Streetlight Records and used the credit to get their used Singing Detective boxed set. The discs appear to be in excellent condition and I only had to pay nine bucks for it after credit. Considering even Deep Discount DVD has it for forty-three bones, I feel like I got a great deal. Now I can loan it to Nancy who I expect to fall deeply in love with it--if I can get my act together enough to ever see her, that is. Our British TV binge is over, I think: Spaced, The Singing Detective, The Office. I'm not sure where we could go after that, although I'm thinking of renting the other Potter stuff--Brimstone & Treacle, Pennies From Heaven, Liptstick on Your Collar, Track (shudder) 29. Tomorrow, Edi's going to watch Shaun of the Dead with me, and I want to watch Main Hoon Na again, but she acts like I'm inviting her to contract leukemia with me. Oh, that was another exciting experience (in an AV club kind of way)--putting my more recent DVDs in the PS2 to see which ones would play, and which ones wouldn't. All the Indian flicks, as advertised, were all region and I can lend 'em to anyone. Kung-Fu Hustle and Spaced, sadly, are, as advertised, Region restricted. After some thought, I've decided not to discuss Kafka on the Shore. So much of the book's charm is in how it unfolds, and I was really glad I didn't know anything about it before reading it. I'm two pages into Cloud Atlas now, and moving slow. All it'll take is one good BART ride. See? Nothing to say except maybe: God, I really hope it rains again tonight. Every night with rain is a night without stupid neighbor lawn parties. But more than that, I opened the door this morning to leave for work and this fresh clean air swept across my face and made me want to swoon. Most of it, I'm sure, is the rain pushing the crap out of the air, but it's also obvious all the plant life on Bernal Hill is loving it--it smelled like the plants were ecstatically exhaling fresh air, all that triumphantly green grass on the ridge sending fresh soft breezes down to caress our tired faces. More, please. posted by Jeff | 6:39 PM | Thursday, March 17, 2005 The Pitch: It's like The Fantastic Four meets The Fantastic Four again! Image isn't the only one, by the way. Marvel this month had twenty-one trade paperbacks. Fortunately, Hibbs decided to only carry thirteen of those. Unlike the Image books where I don't know enough about the titles, I frequently know too much about the Marvel books, particularly when they're collecting stuff from the mid to late '70s. I try not to prattle on and on, but inevitably, it adds something like 700 words, no matter how hard I try.I'm finished with the New C0mics, by the way, An even 5,500 words which I imagine Hibbs'll chop to 5,000 or so. Now, on to the Fanboy (after a lovely sushi lunch with the lovely Edi Jo). posted by Jeff | 12:50 PM | Wednesday, March 16, 2005 The Pitch: It's like Schindler's List meets Chasing Amy! Image Comics is the bane of my existence.I have to write the solicitations every month for the CE newsletter. I get a lot of free reign (although I try not to bash stuff, which I used to do in my early years--I can save that for the S.C.) and have only a few guidelines I have to stick to, one of which is that I should summarize every first issue and every trade paperback we're going to be carrying. It's a guideline that makes sense--why would a sub order the first issue of a new title without knowing who's writing it or what it's about? However, it puts me in a precarious position in that I've got to write about titles where I know little more than the poor sub. All I have is whatever text or images they've got in the blackline, whatever early info I can find on the Internet, and what I remember of the track records of the teams launching the new titles. Apart from Fanboy Rampage (which is hard mainly because I've been writing it for six years now), writing descriptions for the first issues are the hardest part of my job. And Image Comics makes that job even harder. Because Image receives all sorts of preferential treatment from Diamond as long as they keep a certain number of titles rolling out the door, they have to keep a certain amount of product coming out each month. But because they don't really put out any money in funding, merely help facilitate the publishing of books the creators publish themselves, they constantly turn out new product by new talent with minimal information. For example, I'm writing the previews for books coming out in June. Image Comics has twelve first issues and trade paperbacks, among which are books like Blacklight and Flak Riot. Check out the preview description of Blacklight: Lina Juarez is stuck in a dead-end job and a dead-end relationship, living a dead-end life in a dead-end town. All she dreams of is escape, some kind of excitement in her life. But when a dark and mysterious power possess her, she quickly learns the true meaning of the old adage, "Be careful what you wish for." And here's Flak Riot: "Zoe Nixxon is a cute, bored, lonely file clerk She wants a new life and fate gives her that chance when she finds her true calling: hunting for bounties in the lawless dimension known as the O.D.!" Same set-up, same supernatural twist. One gets possessed and the other becomes a bounty hunter, but do they both end up fighting supernatural creepies? I would guess they do. They go right next to each other in the Blackline and they'll be appearing side-by-side in the newsletter too. Do I riff on the fact that the two books sound alike? (Probably.) Do I kill double the amount of brain cells trying to make sure I don't sound like I'm just writing the same thing over and over? (Defnitely.) I think Image Comics is a useful and valuable part of the comic marketplace, and allow wider exposure to writers and artists daring enough to create their own works. But God, do they make my life miserable for a couple of days every month. Whew. Thanks for letting me vent. Now I have to go back to trying to write cleverly about books I know almost nothing about. posted by Jeff | 6:20 PM | Tuesday, March 15, 2005 The Pitch: It's like Requiem For A Dream meets The Towering Inferno! Yesterday was so insane and crazy I forgot about the drug deal.Sunday, Edi and I were talking about the charms of walking along Mission Street--we'd made our way over to The Castro Theatre and decided to take Mission instead of Valencia. And I was regaling her with all the great stuff I get to see on my morning walk. "Here's where the guys sleep, and there's where they pee. Oh no, wait. That's a bakery. It's open. I think they sleep in the next storefront. Ooo, and here's some of my favorite graffitti!" So yesterday on my morning walk to BART, a scary strung-out woman stumbled up to a short latino guy in an army jacket and slipped him a small baggie of white stuff. At least, that's what it looked like out of the corner of my eye. Thinking about it now, it was probably heroin and the strung-out woman was probably muling between the street dealer and the central stash. For some reason, that makes it all the more depressing. Anyway, after that, I missed my stop and rode BART to Oakland. That was actually the non-Edi-related highlight of my day, actually. I was so engrossed in Kafka On The Shore, and there had been a few between-station delays, I was completely thrown off as to what our last stop was...but there's no mistaking the long, long ride under the bay, particularly when it's normally around ninety seconds to get from one station to another. So I read some more, and put down the book just in time to have the train come out of the tunnel into the oncoming morning light. It was great. I got off at the first stop and waited outside for the next train to take me back. Of course, after that it was all gloom and misery and pain--constant dogpiles of awful, unending jobs, bad instructions, and the assurance that each and every job is a very important rush that needs to be done absolutely as soon as possible. I worked from 8:00 to 1:00 without a break, took lunch, and came back to almost exactly the same piles of shitty work as when I left. By about 5:30, I felt like my brain was crawling with bees, and I wanted to weep. I was actually afraid to return home because I felt so brittle. As it turned out, home was exactly the right place to be--one great dinner and two episodes of The Office later, I felt 95% bee-free. I'm still impressed with myself for showing up for work today. I would have much rather called in sick, picked up the blackline from the store, and made the free showing of The Ring Two tonight. (I also have a free showing pass for Sin City tomorrow and am trying to figure out if I really want to stand in line to see it. On the one hand, hey! Two weeks early! On the other hand, hey! Two hours in line and a jammed-up theater.) Yes, that's how bad work is. I'm actually fantasizing about doing other work as a relief from thinking about it. I'm hoping today will be quiet so I can share my thoughts on Kafka on the Shore, which I just finished. Actually, I'm just hoping today will be quiet enough I can figure out what my thoughts are regarding Kafka on the Shore. Let's just go with "Wow, what a book" for now, and see what churns up later. posted by Jeff | 8:21 AM | Sunday, March 13, 2005 The Pitch: It's like The Office meets Kung-Fu Hustle! I liked Kung-Fu Hustle. Edi and I watched it last night. Interestingly, I didn't love the movie, but was strongly tempted to re-watch it today. It's a very watchable movie--Stephen Chow is a hell of a visual filmmaker and it's been a while since I've seen a movie I wanted to watch again immediately just to rewatch certain sequences. I find that comofrting in a way, because I remember watching some of my beloved HK movies over and over again in a way I just don't anymore--there's usually one movie I'll watch a few times in the course of a year (last year was the remake and the original of Dawn of the Dead, each of which I saw three or four times) but it's spread out over a period of time not like when I was watching The Killer every other month for a year.This has come up a few times in the course of the relationship. Edi finally saw Planet of the Apes with me last year, and I still haven't shown her The Killer. Or Hard-Boiled. She's seen Drunken Master II (in its American Legend of Drunken Master incarnation) but I still haven't shown her the other Jackie Chan classics: Project A, parts I and II; Armor of God 2; Police Story 1; Wheels on Meals or Dragons Forever (ehh, those last few are minor classics but you know what I mean). And Swordsman II! I was trying to tell her what it was like to watch Swordsman II with an entire audience of people who had no idea what they were getting into, and realized how much more punch the story would have if I actually, you know, had shown her the movie. As I mentioned in a previous post, Edi called me a proselytizer, and I think that's very true. I guess I try to show how much I care for her by not exposing her to all my geeky passions, particularly those that are more past than present. But there are times when I think: how can this person really understand me if they haven't seen The Killer? And yet, there's something genuinely silly about that statement, isn't there? It's sort of saying like you can't make out the whole jigsaw just because two of the pieces are missing. And I do think I like to show people stuff because I think they'll enjoy it, not because it'll help them understand. I can safely say Main Hoon Na has contributed not a whit to my psychological make-up, and yet I'm totally eager to spring it on Edi very soon. Anyway, Kung-Fu Hustle is a very fun, very slight little film. But at least if it somehow becomes the cornerstone of my new philosophy, Edi can say she was right there at the beginning. posted by Jeff | 10:17 PM | Thursday, March 10, 2005 The Pitch: It's like Oedipa Maas meets Mr. Natural! I had a lot of weird dreams last night, and none of them stuck with me except for one. In it, I was in a boarding house eating breakfast with Robert Crumb and Terry Zwigoff. There were three or four other places set for breakfast but either no one else had come down to eat yet, or else everyone had already eaten and we were getting there late.Terry Zwigoff was very excited because he and his wife wanted to get the rights to Crumb's latest book--which in a way was odd, because Crumb's latest book was an graphic novel adaptation of Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49. I was pretty excited by the idea of this, and fought with the urge to tell him about my ideas on how to film Pynchon's book: it seemed like the sortof thing Crumb wouldn't appreciate, nor did it seem like he would appreciate any sort of fanboy fawning over the whole thing, which was my other urge. So, instead I silently sat and ate my pancakes, and Crumb started talking to me about the project, surprisingly open. And then I woke up, or my memory stopped recording or the dream ended. Finis. I think I know how I'm supposed to interpret the dream, but putting it at its most rudimentary level, I think the idea of Crumb doing The Crying of Lot 49 would be pretty cool: all those sweaty obsessive grotesqueries, bent and slumped as if bowing in obeisance to the almighty and likely non-existent Tristero; Oedipa with her go-go boots and her shelf-like butt; Mucho Maas going crazy from LSD in a hotel room surrounded by predatory policemen. In real-life news, we had a quiet day. After torturing ourselves last night with the film version of The Singing Detective (awful, awful, awful--never, ever see it), we watched it again with the director's commentary which helped us feel like we had both wasted most of our day and managed to give us headaches. I'm still trying to get over a world in which Battlestar Galactica is better than The Singing Detective--RemakeWorld is a lot like Bizarro World, I guess. A sushi lunch was had. Work was done. Another long box was sorted. A nap was had, and a walk on the hill was made--although I did one, and Edi did the other. I won't tantalize you as to who did what (although any one who knows either of us could figure it out): the nap, where I fell asleep to cool air blowing on my face from an open window, was superb. We're working our way up to dinner and then it's a light evening of TV. I really had all these things I should have worked on, and didn't really do any of them. And it felt pretty great, to tell you the truth. My final geeky observation has to do with RPG stats and computers. The last day or two I've been adding bits and pieces to Firefox, and it feels like nothing so much as when you get an item in D&D and manage to successfully make it magical (or increase its magical powers). A nice little feeling: I've got a +1 Web Browser! I have a Google News of seeing! (They let you customize the news page which is great--instead of all that sports and business stuff I have both a Bollywood and a Graphic Novels section.) If I could just get my computer to hook up with Edi's printers (something my old computer took to like a duck to water), I'd be pleased as punch with my little computer set-up. posted by Jeff | 7:11 PM | Wednesday, March 09, 2005 The Pitch: It's like Waiting for Guffman meets Battlestar Galactica! Fanboy's holiday today: I watched the Battlestar Galactica miniseries today while sorting a longbox of comics. The comics sorting--not too much fun, but dear God, was that Battlestar Galactica great. Once again, I am one of the last to catch on--after Tim and Nancy and Rob Bennett and Hibbs and many, many others talked about how good it was, I finally got a copy of the miniseries from Bennett. Holy cow. It was so much better than the original piece of poo that used to run on Sunday nights on ABC I can't believe it. Lots of satisfying nastiness--that scene where they could only take the children and three adults from all those refugees? Awesome. That scene where they have to leave all the non-FTL ships behind? Super-awesome. Female cylon chick breaking that baby's neck in the crib? Yummy, with a big side-dish of tasty.Another short update, I'm afraid. The plan is to get off this computer doo-dah thing and get the place vaccuumed before Edi gets home today. Oh, and our friends Bruce and Lily had a big ol' baby boy this morning. Lily's sister called about 7:45 to let Edi know Lily had gone into labor, and then called about two to say the kid had come about 8:45--he was ready to get out and hit the town, apparently. The neighbor next door is chopping wood, and running a fire in his fire pit, which is pretty god-damn ominous. There's probably going to be a dinner party tonight. Shitpissfuck. posted by Jeff | 5:26 PM | Tuesday, March 08, 2005 The Pitch: It's like Rain Man meets Forrest Gump! It's been two weeks since I've played any video games. Tomorrow. Two weeks tomorrow. And by "video games," I mean actual video games--not popcap crap like Word Mojo, which I've played a few times. And by "a few times," I mean every other day. Two weeks. Give or take.As you can see, I'm taking it well--almost barely obsessive at all--and it's freed me to do lots of things in that two weeks. Like help people move. And work. Yes, blessed and free are those without video games... I re-read my own post where I posited not playing video games until after Edi and I got hitched. I made a horrible noise when I read this, as if someone had sent me a ransom note with a terrified picture of someone I dearly love wearing underwear on their head and being threatened with a gun. Thank God for Word Mojo, otherwise I might have crapped myself. I still can't believe I wrote such a thing. What was I thinking? Would Edi and I have had time to watch Spaced and The Singing Detective during those two weeks if I hadn't? And yes, if I can just work out my writing set-up, maybe I'll fill all those non-moving, non-working free moments with actual writing, which I miss so much I can't even begin to tell you...even more, arguably, than video games. But I'll be at the apartment alone tomorrow, and I'm worried. I wonder if Edi would consent to driving around with all my PS2 games in the trunk of her car? posted by Jeff | 6:25 PM | Saturday, March 05, 2005 The Pitch: It's Like Farenheit 451 meets Scrooged! I like to share my stuff. If there's something I like, I want people to know about it. I'm a proselytizer, as Edi pointed out the other night. When Joel pointed me to Ong-Bak, I grabbed a copy and lent it to Rob. When James came in to the store yesterday for the first Friday in maybe six months, I said to him, "Ooo! Have you read Scott Pilgrim's Precious Little Life? I totally thought of you while reading it." Or when Skip handed in his sub form, I said, "You're not reading Walking Dead? You would think that book is awesome!"So Annalee Newitz's cover story in the S.F. Bay Guardian this week kinda struck a chord with me. It's all about the upcoming "Broadcast Flag" regulation the F.C.C. passed that will make it, to quote the article, "illegal for anyone in the United States to manufacture a device that records high-definition television unless it's built to obey a special signal – the flag – emitted by stations broadcasting HD shows. The flag will tell PVRs and other equipment whether they're allowed to copy a show onto some other medium, like a DVD. In short, broadcasters and content owners will actually be able to control your recording habits." Newitz is very, very savvy and casts the role of those opposing such a law in the most accessible terms possible. The opening line of the article is a quote--"All I want is to make a high-definition copy of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, save it on a DVD, and loan it to my friend."--that any of us lender types could totally agree with. I mean, crap, now that Edi and I have watched Spaced, I'm frustrated because I can't really loan it to anyone--Rob's the only other person I know with an all-region DVD player. And there's tons of stuff I would have paid to rent already if it had been available--I hit up Tim for help on stuff like edonkey because Edi and I want to watch the third and fourth seasons of Six Feet Under, which HBO has limited interest in releasing on DVD if it can get us to sign up for HBO Premium (or HBO On Demand, or some other fucking spin-off channel). And yet, you know, I also feel a bit creepy about all this, too. Part of Newitz's opening line, "All I want is to make a high-definition copy of Buffy the Vampire Slayer..." kind of sticks with me a little bit. What's wrong with a low-definition copy? Newitz posits a perfectly legal situation: Let's say, for example, that it's a couple of years from now, and your TiVothat, again, seems dingenuous to me. I absolutely and completely think big media corporations are a bunch of greedy assbutts, but on the other hand, they pay the creative talent. In many cases, they pay the creative talent quite badly; on the other hand, the creative talent can make a good living off it, and do. I'm a big believer in exposure to a work--I bought a lot more albums in the days of Napster and Audiogalaxy than I do now--and, admittedly, at some point in the future, there aren't going to be analog TV's anymore--all HD, all the time. But I got squirrelly reading this article--in no small part because I felt uncomfortable siding siding with either the protesters or the corporations. I see a whole lot more cultural wars in our future, and choosing sides is going to suck in a mighty big way. posted by Jeff | 3:32 PM | Friday, March 04, 2005 The Pitch: It's like Silent Running meets Groundhog Day! It's always hard for me to talk about my "weekend," what with it (a) happening in the middle of the workweek; (b) not being the sum total of my days off from work (since I don't work Sunday); and (c) some third thing I should list here because these sorts of list always have at least three things, but can't think of. However it's a bit harder this time around because I feel like I didn't have one. I swapped shifts to get a Saturday off last month, and paid the price by working a full shift at the firm yesterday. And although it was probably the most leisurely experience helping people move I've ever had, most of Wednesday was spent helping Theresa and Josh move.But the few hours of weekend I did have (Wednesday from two p.m. on, Thursday from 7:00 p.m. on, this morning until about 10:00 a.m. when I have to dash off for work) were pretty exceptional. I finally picked up copies of Main Hoon Na and Boom on DVD, got my fuckin' six-to-four pin firewire plugs from Cables To Go, watched part five of The Singing Detective on Wednesday, watched the sixth and final part of The Singing Detective on Thursday, and successfully used my firewire plug to upload new music onto my Ipod, thus obviating my whole clumsy yank-out-the computer-put-in-the cable-crack-knee-on-corner-of-computer-until-cable-is-removed procedure. Worked like a charm! Of course, I couldn't buy just two bollywood flicks. I also picked up six other DVDs, the highlight of which is a film called Jism, because (a) it's a Bollywood remake of Body Heat; and (b) it's called Jism. I titter like a schoolgirl every time I read that. Hopefully, there's a Bollywood film called Lake Titicaca I can pick up as well. If there's an unfortunate drawback to all of my relentless Bollywood flick accumulation, it's that I just didn't feel much like actually seeing a Bollywood film. I paid my cash and sat through the first half of Veer-Zaara and then left at the intermission. It was all perfectly fine, I guess, but I found myself not in the mood. The hills of Fremont were shockingly green, nearly as green as Bernal Hill, and I wanted to kind of wander from store to store. Could I find a cheap copy of The Singing Detective DVD at Rasputin? Would a used copy of another Murakami book turn up at Half-Life Books? Were they giving out free "hot&fresh" samples at the Krispy Kreme? (Sadly, the answers turned out to be no, no and yes.) I wanted to be home watching The Singing Detective and/or Spaced, curled with Edi on our uncomfortable hedgehog hair couch, not sitting in an empty movie theater watching Shahrukh Khan slowly fall in love with Preity Zinta. (He does a particularly lackluster job, too, which is doubly depressing because Preity Zinta is pretty god-damned cute.) And that's kind of weird, because one of my favorite things in the world is having a movie theater all to myself and watching a big Bollywood flick. Or maybe not so weird: getting home in time to watch The Singing Detective in a darkened room with my lovely girlfriend was pretty great, too. And maybe three hour movies are best saved for when you've got more than twelve hours in your weekend. posted by Jeff | 9:40 AM | |
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