The Last Gentleman

Quikly in...out...and back in again

2010-06-09T18:13:00.002-04:00

I just drank a few Coronas with a buddy of mine in Downtown Greenville (SC), and am currently lounging on his balcony overlooking the splendidly beautiful Reedy River while listening to the dulcet sounds of Johnny Flynn. I think this is as close to a truly modern Bohemian setting as I will ever get in my lifetime; that is, unless my novel becomes everything I dream it will as I drift off to sleep at night.

While I'm on the threshold of a gentleman's buzz (with the promise of more alcohol on the way and a night of artistic revelry awaiting the violet kiss of twilight), I thought it necessary to quickly check in with my few and honorable followers. I hope all is well with everyone and that I find you as relaxed and free of time as I find myself at the present. I also thought it prudent to fill you all in on what this blog may look like in the coming days and months.

I'm currently in the final stages of research for my novel. Some of the composition is complete, but the meat of the work is still on the back burner, whistling in the kettle and ready to be lifted and shifted to the front. While I'm doing my last bit of research, which is becoming more interesting than I had believed it would, I may transfer some of my notations to blog form. It may be interesting to some and dreadfully boring to others. I look forward to comments from the former and apologize to the latter. I'm becoming increasingly excited about the way my novel is turning out, and I hope I have the chance to share all of the upcoming hills and valleys of my journey to become published with you all. No matter what comes of it, this has been a truly life changing and affirming time for me.

The second round of beer has just arrived and my friend is beginning to pluck away on his mandolin. So, I will bid you all ado and hope to see you soon. I'm almost positive I will have more entries in my "Novel Journey" pictorial series to come that will accompany and help break up the possible monotony of the research related material. I will leave you with the working title of my novel. Take care.

Working Title: The Art of Melancholy

I'm Elinguis...

2010-06-04T19:12:00.004-04:00

In DC, even the Spelling Bee draws protesters

If I didn't know better, I'd think this news article was written by The Onion. Unfortunately, it's all too legit. It amazes me that an "academic professional" would even consider partaking in something this absurd. The beauty of learning any language is discovering all the ins and outs of a word's meaning(s). The intrinsic cultural significance alone is worth the etymological journey. To attempt to devalue something as educationally significant to the advancement of literacy awareness as the Scripps National Spelling Bee is beyond ignorant. As I said in the title of this blog, "I'm elinguis."

Bee All That You Can Bee

2010-06-03T23:11:00.005-04:00

It’s that time of year again. Yep, you guessed it, the Scripps National Spelling Bee! I’ve been an ardent fan of the spelling bee for years now, way before all the bandwagoners via the wonderful documentary Spellbound. I tend to find myself in awe and somewhat envious of these kids – awestruck of their mad spelling skillz, and envious of the passion and camaraderie that comes with this thrilling event year in and year out. But no matter what, I always find myself cheering for every contestant to succeed and hoping that the dreaded bell never chimes.

This year 273 spellers invaded our nation’s capitol (where’s Jack Bauer?!) to flex their powerful hippocampuses in hopes of lifting the trophy, and winning that awesome set of encyclopedias and an ultra hot $30,000 (it’s all about the Benjamins baby). After the computerized spelling round, the kids moved on to two oral spelling rounds in the hot spotlight on-stage. The thing I love most about the enhanced interest in the Spelling Bee is that at least the third round of the preliminaries is broadcast live, albeit online. From these initial 273 spellers, the group must be cut down to no more than 50 for the semifinals, which takes place the following morning. Brutal, I know, but so goes the honorable gladiator sport that is spelling.

While I wasn’t able to watch the third round of the preliminaries in its entirety this morning, I did get through the first 221 spellers and would like to share some of my (hopefully) interesting insights and commentary. Here goes:

Speller #25, Jacky Kun Qiao from China, approached the microphone with a swagger and a profile stance a la William Shatner. Not only was Jacky sporting the stance, but he would also gesticulate with his left hand in a very...pronounced...and...Shatner...like...way. He also closely resembled the witty Canadian in an all too comical way. Unfortunately, Jacky didn’t advance to the semifinals, but that’s the beauty of allowing all of the spellers a chance to take the stage in the final two rounds of the preliminaries. They all get to enjoy the spotlight and the pride of making that far.

Other notable speller look-a-likes include: #52, Sabrina Smith (Emilie de Ravin); #77, Alexia Jade Zawadzke (Tilda Swinton); and #109, Ross Garrity (one of the Ramones).

One of the pit photographers positioned in between the stage and the judges table looked like Lionel Richie. As a consequence of this, I would break out in a brief serenade of “Hello.” I feel no shame.

One of the great things about watching the oral rounds of the spelling bee is reading the small snippets of information displayed about each of the spellers as they approach the microphone. You can learn a lot about a speller from their favorite kinds of music (which ranged from pretentious choices like Beethoven or Mozart to the more honest Lady Gaga and the Jonas Brothers) to their favorite movies (more on this later, but some of my favorites were Napoleon Dynamite, Hot Rod, and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off). However, one startling trend amongst all of the spellers was their choices of people they would like to meet – startling because the vast majority of people they would like to meet are dead, rotting, and pushing up daisies.

These dearly departed but obviously never forgotten souls included Handel, Caesar Augustus (I shit you not; speller #100, Faith Audreylee Ruppert, is one fierce young lady*), Shakespeare, the Red Baron (I honestly didn’t know what to think about this one, but who wouldn’t want to take a free ride with Snoopy? Oh wait, wrong Red Baron. We're talking about the frozen pizza guy? Gotcha), George Washington, Andrew Jackson (all the president’s spellers, holla!), and last but not least my personal favorite, Napoleon Bonaparte (because who wouldn’t want to spend a little one on one exiled with an overcompensating megalomaniac?). I have two bits of advice for all of these spellers in hopes that their dreams of meeting these people who cease to be: a) search out the whereabouts of a certain blue vanishing and reappearing police box and hitch a ride with the doctor, or b) get nice and chummy with speller #56, Ankush I. Bajaj, who simply wants to do what we all dreamed of as kids...win the Nobel Prize in Science. Make it happen, Ankush. You discover time travel and you’re golden Ponyboy.

Apart from the "obscenely obsessed with death" kids, the kids who are quit content to meet folks present in the here and now chose the likes of Tim Curry and “Weird Al” Yankovic. Seriously, these kids are beyond cool no matter what anyone says.

There are always some great light moments between the spellers and the head judge Dr. Bailly. The first occurred when speller #43, Tommy Foster, approached the microphone and greeted Dr. Bailly with a crowd pleasing “What’s up, Doc?” The second came when diminutive and cute speller #80, Modhura Chakravarty, came up to the microphone, pulled it down, and promptly said with a smile, “Holla!” The third moment came late in the second half of the third round when, after spelling his word correctly, speller #220, David M. Habibi, was congratulated by Dr. Bailly on being a new brother. Apparently, the stork dropped off his newly born sibling while he was off spelling. David’s reaction was priceless and one of those moments no one will soon forget.

There were two “wtf?” moments. The first was when I read that speller #130, Roshini Shreya Asirvatham, aspires to be a cardiac electrophysiologist. Honestly, I would have gone back to making my mud pie if you would have asked me if I wanted to be a cardiac electrowhatever when I was that age. The second was when I read that speller #175’s, Gage Phillip Greshaw, favorite movie is Scarface. I’m hoping it's the critically acclaimed 1932 version, and not the “I couldn’t count the amount of times they say ‘frak’” 1983 version. I’m just concerned, that’s all. Did I mention they delve into incestuous themes in the ’83 version? No? Well they do. You know, fyi.

Going back to the “what I want to be when I grow up...” theme, other notables were: #69, Matt Brucker (Lego Designer, how awesome is that?!); and #95, Bianca James (wants to be the first Native American president, I would vote for her).

Finally, no Scripps National Spelling Bee oral spelling round is complete without a few witty and geeky example sentences. Here were my two favorites:

“A word of advice, Cathy**, will not stop talking about the universe until you compliment her on her jnana.”

“Spock got tired of the suppressed laughter from the crew every time Captain Kirk would talk about his superaurale.”

Unfortunately, the majority of the spellers I wrote about here didn’t make it to the semifinals. Even so, they’re all still winners in this blogger’s heart. Congratulations to all 273 spellers for making it as far as they did, and a huge pat on the back to the 48 spellers who advanced to the semifinals. You can check out the list of semifinalists by clicking this sweet little link ---> Spelling Bee Semifinalists

Don’t miss the final day of spelling tomorrow. Semifinals begin at 10am est. on ESPN, and the finals take place in primetime at 8pm est. on ABC. Good luck, Spellers! You can get this information and more at the official Scripps National Spelling Bee website.

*As fierce as she is, she did not make it to the semifinal round. Et tu, Dr. Bailly?
**I couldn’t remember the actual name used, so I substituted it with the marvelous Cathy, who runs the sweet little blog The Marvelous Mrs. E, because she has massive jnana. ;)

Dedication to an Inspiration; or, Happy Belated Birthday, Walker Percy

2010-06-01T16:25:00.002-04:00

Not everyone has the unique opportunity and privilege to share a birthday with their favorite author; I’m one of the lucky ones. Walker Percy has shaped me in myriad ways. His writings, both fiction and non-fiction, have influenced me as an academic, as a writer, and more importantly as a man (or, specifically, as a twenty-something male). When I decided to start this blog, I found it only fitting to dedicate the title to my favorite Percy novel. Since I would be documenting my own Percy-esque journey into what it’s like to be a Southern Gentleman in the modern world, how could I title this blog anything else?

I first discovered Mr. Percy during the penultimate summer before I graduated college. The end was drawing near and the beginning of something new and beyond mortifying was growing over the horizon like an enigmatic fire, neither welcoming nor cautionary. Percy’s premier novel, The Moviegoer, was recommended to me by one of my professor’s before the close of the spring semester, so I decided to give it a go and bought a used copy to take on my family’s annual beach vacation.

The first few days of the vacation passed in a drunken and sun-exhausted blur. I had completely forgotten about the novel, which at that time was buried somewhere beneath my boxers in the zippered mesh pouch on the inside of my suitcase cover. Two to three days in, I happened to reach into the pouch and finger the somewhat ragged binding of the book. I had a free afternoon while my parents were out and about, so I decided to take the book with me down by the pool. There I would stay until I was forced to move to our condo’s back balcony due to darkness.

The novel seemed to say everything that I longed to hear. It spoke to my apathetic heart and wrapped a conciliatory arm around the lingering malaise that set upon my shoulders like a brick foundation. And while it did all of this, in the end, it refused to give me any answers. The novel took me on a journey through the darkest depths of my emotional being and then, with a gentle pat on the back, set me adrift into the very horizon I was so desperately attempting to avoid. Just like the protagonist of the novel, Binx Bolling, I was brought to a crossroads with the ability to make a decision; it was up to me to decide whether that decision would be life affirming or just another step along the ever-evolving journey that is life, and the continuously complicated sub-journey of being a twenty-something male in the throws of becoming the man you’ve always hoped to become. More importantly, I learned that the answers had to be gleaned by me alone; to forever hinge on the values, opinions, and embrace of others would only equate to a life of stagnation. I was shown all of this and more in the brief span of a day in the summer of 2007, and since then (after working through all of Percy’s material that I’ve been able to get my hands on) I have had the pleasure of discovering more both personally and philosophically.

Walker Percy continues to be an inspiration to me, and I would be forever remiss if I failed to acknowledge this glorious talent on (or, in this case, somewhere thereabout) May 28th.

Thanks for everything, Walker Percy. Your talent is sorely missed as well as your gentlemanly sensibilities. Cheers.

Happy Birthday to Me!

2010-05-31T19:44:00.001-04:00

It’s kind of cool having a birthday close to a holiday. Well, unless it’s Christmas in which case it’s not so cool. Contrary to popular belief you do not get double the presents; I mean, you’re not like Jesus or anything. Only the lucky among us get to be mythical in nature.

My birthday was this past Friday (May 28th), and therefore landed – as it always does – on Memorial Day weekend. Now, first and foremost, I want to send my deepest gratitude to the men and women who serve in our armed forces. We greatly appreciate your sacrifice and the sacrifice of your families. Being a part of a military family (grandfather, father, brother, and cousins), I can understand the day-to-day that many military families go through. Thanks to all that are currently serving, and to the veterans who are with us and who died in battle.

Now, back to me. Because my birthday always lands on Memorial Day weekend there are always a bunch of cool events going on that I can claim as being in celebration of the glorious day of my birth. Lately, the local minor league baseball team has held a home series either just before or immediately after Memorial Day. The last two years it has been the former, and I have taken it upon myself to attend the home game closest to my birthday. After all, I have to attend a baseball game held in my honor especially when they work so hard to schedule the game either during “Fireworks Friday” or “$1 Drink Night.” The only negative to this whole “take me out to the ballgame” affair is that the local team has gone an abysmal 0-2 during my birthday celebration games. I know it can’t be me, so they better get their act together or I’m taking this show elsewhere.

The rest of the weekend went pretty much as planned: birthday dinner at Olive Garden (the new crespelle dishes are amazing, btw); the US Men’s National team defeated Turkey in an international friendly on Saturday; the St. Louis Cardinals won their weekend series against the hated Chicago Cubs (during which I had the pleasure of seeing the great Albert Pujols hit 3 Home Runs in the final game); and, finally, I wrapped up the weekend long celebration by devouring the new Chick-fil-a spicy chicken today for lunch (the spices had a good taste but it could definitely be spicier).

All in all, it was a great birthday weekend filled with fun and plenty of relaxation. I definitely needed a long weekend in which I could just lose myself. I want to thank all of my friends and family for the birthday wishes I received. I truly am surrounded by some of the best people.

[End narcissism]

Goodbye, LOST

2010-05-24T12:57:00.004-04:00

We have the opportunity to see many good television shows in our lifetime, but it is a rare thing to witness a great television show. LOST was one of the greats. When I wrote those two sentences, I originally typed, “LOST is one of the greats.” The day after the day and I’m still finding it difficult to fully let go of a show that helped shape the last six years of my life, not to mention the profound affect the show had on my academic understanding of progressive television while in graduate school the last two years. LOST not only opened my heart, but it also opened my mind to intellectual possibilities I’d never thought of venturing into before the show began.

The series finale did not disappoint, and while I still don’t understand everything I know that a “complete understanding” was never the point. It was always about the journey and the deeply entrenched study of the human condition. That is what made LOST great. What better way, then, to end the show than by celebrating the community (both diegetically and non-diegetically speaking) so intrinsic in the progression of that journey. The care that everyone placed on the final moments was beautiful and breathtaking. My congratulations and immense thanks go to J.J. Abrams, Damon Lindelof, and Carlton Cuse for giving all us Losties the gift of a lifetime, and an unforgettable journey that can be enjoyed over and over again for years to come.

“23 – As Jack is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”

Dance Me to the End of Love

2010-05-15T00:43:00.001-04:00

I am a firm believer of slow dances. The intimacy of holding someone close to you and swaying to the soft cadence of a song is a feeling hard to replicate. And the lovely thing about a good slow dance is that it’s a moment that can be shared with anyone: a lover, a friend, a parent, and even a pet for as long as they’ll allow it. Regardless of whom you dance with, it’s a universal symbol of trust; a trust rooted in the depths of a comfort with the person you’re holding that can never be matched in the arms of another. Not to mention, when done at the right time and in the right location, an impromptu slow dance to the right song can be intensely romantic.

I’ve become a fan of slow dances in the kitchen with a soft light from a dying day leaking into the room through the slits of partially opened blinds. Timing is everything and nothing at the same time. Sometimes the dance needs to be scheduled, and sometimes the dance will prompt you. Either way, it’s a sensual moment that will live for a long time in the subtle sway of your hips, the shuffle of your feet, and the faint trace of lightly sliding fingers along your back.

So, since I’m a music fanatic and I can’t go a moment without judging whether a song is slow dance worthy or not, I will now present to you my Slow Dance Song Selections (in no particular order and in no way representational of the full body of worthy songs to slow dance to):

1) “All My Mistakes,” “40 East,” “Laundry Room,” and “Swept Away (Sentimental Version)” by The Avett Brothers
2) “When the Night Comes” by Dan Auerbach
3) “Love and Some Verses” by Iron & Wine
4) “Here We Go Again” by Justin Townes Earle
5) “Hold On,” “You Ain’t Nobody ‘Till Somebody Loves You,” and “You and I” by Michael Bublé
6) “Let it be Me” by Ray LaMontagne
7)”You’ve Really Got a Hold on Me,” “Got Me,” and “I Should’ve Known Better” by She & Him (honestly, they have some the best “goofy after you’ve both had a few” songs to slow dance to)
8) “With or Without You” by U2
9) “Taxi Cab” by Vampire Weekend
10) “I Found a Reason,” “Pale Blue Eyes,” and “Coney Island Baby” by The Velvet Underground/Lou Reed
11) “You’re an Angel and I’m Gonna Cry” by Chris Thile
12) “Dance Me to the End of Love” by Leonard Cohen

The Heart of a Tree

2010-05-13T23:44:00.006-04:00

A father and his son walked side by side into a small patch of woods behind the boy’s grandmother’s house. It was the first day of spring, and the resilient chill of winter’s grasp lingered in the air as a cool breeze sifted through the freshly budded leaves on the trees.

The two had not gone far before the father stopped, taking the boy’s hand and holding him in place. The boy was caught off balance by the sudden movement and lost his footing, but as he began to fall back his father pulled him up and swung him back on his feet. The two laughed as the father wrapped the boy in a bear hug and crouched down next to him, sitting on his heels.

It was a posture that always amazed the boy. He would stand in place for what felt like hours watching his father or grandmother sit on their heels in the old Southern way, either staying crouched in place of shuffling effortlessly to the side like a crab skittering across the sand. The boy stood beside his father looking him over, and then scrunched his face in concentration as he began crouching down in an attempt to mimic his father. The boy rocked back and forth, losing his balance on multiple occasions, until finally settling his rear end on the upper part of his heels – his father’s right arm never leaving its spot across his back to help keep the boy’s balance in check.

“There’s something special I’d like to show you. Want to see?” the father asked the boy, smiling as he gazed at the boy’s face.

“Yes, daddy, I would. Where?” The father suppressed a laugh, studying the boy’s seriousness as he began to scan the woods around him. The father patted the boy lightly on the back, and then pointed to a peach tree sitting alone in a small clearing about fifteen feet straight ahead.

“It’s right there in that tree. Do you see anything special about it?”

“I just see a tree, daddy. Nothin’ there,” the boy said as he shook his head clearly frustrated, twitching his nose like a nervous rabbit.

“You have to look closer. Right there in the middle. It’s the heart of the tree.”

The boy squinted his eyes until he finally saw the singular red leaf nestled within the nest of green. The father watched as the boy’s eyes widened, and couldn’t help chuckling when the boy started jumping up and down with excitement.

“I see it! I see it! Neat, daddy!”
“Yes, very neat and very rare. You don’t get to see the heart of a tree often, but when you do it’s a moment that you should always treasure. It means that your heart is in a comfortable place, that you’re with someone or will soon meet someone you love. I saw the heart of a tree the day I met your mother.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I’m with you now and I love you, daddy; so I think that’s what it means for me.”
“Yeah, I think you’re probably right. Seems to fit.”

The two stayed in place for a while looking at the tree, the father sitting on his heels and the boy standing beside him, before finally strolling deeper into the woods leaving the heart of the tree behind them.

Years passed and the boy eventually left his parent’s home as most sons and daughters do. College took the boy away from his familiar home tucked beneath the backs of giants, and transplanted him in a place of cold metal and pockmarked sidewalks.

After the boy finished his final term, he returned home with a distempered mind and an incurable pessimism toward the future. His parent’s welcomed him with open arms as all parents would, but the boy was only a shell of what he once was.

One day the boy decided to take a walk around the familiar grounds of his home. He strolled along the edge of the woods that stretched along the right side of his parent’s land from the backyard to the front. As he neared the last tree that sat at the top of an incline that descended to the main highway, the boy took a sideways glance at one of two peach trees that stood like turrets on opposite sides of the front yard.

The boy stopped and took a second glance at the peach tree. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and quickly moved to get a closer look. The boy stood still a few feet from the base of the tree and titled his head back as far as it would go as he stared at the hive of green leaves. His eyes grew wide at first and then eventually squinted as he attempted to hold back the tears that began to swell like a distance storm on the horizon. There, in the middle of the green hive as unique as a queen bee, was the heart of the tree – blazing red like the purest of sunsets during a clear summer evening.

The boy stood for a while before finally crouching down and sitting on his heels. A new hope rose within him, subtle at first and then slowly more pronounced like the anchor of an arm around the back or a tender embrace. The boy smiled and hugged his knees to his chest never wanting to lose sight of the heart of the tree, and wondering what would come next.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame!

2010-05-12T19:11:00.006-04:00

I love baseball and have been a long-time devotee to the great American pastime. I recently fulfilled a dream of mine by attending a Major League Baseball game at Busch Stadium in St. Louis, Missouri – the home of my beloved St. Louis Cardinals. I had amazing seats in the 1st level upper deck along the third base line. Not only did I have a fantastic view of the game, but I also had a beautiful view of The Arch off in the distance behind center field.

I watched my favorite current pitcher, Adam Wainwright, throw a strong eight innings before handing it off to the Cardinals former closer, Jason Isringhausen, who successfully sealed the deal for a thrilling Cardinals victory.

I didn’t get to see the great Albert Pujols hit a home run in St. Louis, but I did get to see him hit in St. Louis, which was just as joyous (I have, however, been lucky enough to see Pujols hit a home run during a game at Turner Field in Atlanta against the Braves; it was a moment I will never forget).

Recently, however, I have found a new home in which to live out my love for baseball: Fluor Field in Downtown Greenville, SC; the home of the Minor League Single A (or, Sally League) Boston Red Sox Affiliate team, the Greenville Drive. I’ve been there twice this month already with every intention of going back for a few more evening games before the end of the month, including the night before my birthday. Fluor Field was built to replicate the dimensions and iconic features of the Red Sox’s Fenway Park, and is even equipped with its own mini-version of “The Green Monster” in left field. For a Minor League ballpark, you couldn’t ask for a finer atmosphere both as a baseball fan and also as a player. The stadium is nearly packed out for every game including the afternoon/weeknight games, which usually suffer even in Major League Baseball markets.

The franchise is family friendly to the extreme, fully equipped with a large playground for the restless ADD kiddy types located next to the cheap, lawn seat section on the far left field end of the stadium. They also try to do a lot of fun activities in-between innings to keep kids from getting too bored such as: sack races; three-legged races, dance contests, a fruit race (the equivalent of the Milwaukee Brewers sausage race) between a banana, broccoli, and a pigtailed blueberry (the banana usually always wins so that the “Peanut Butter-Jelly Time” song can be played over the sound system); the chicken dance (of which I have embarrassingly taken part on more than one occasion); and music-themed firework shows on Friday nights. Not to mention the old days of “peanuts and cracker jacks” have been replaced with Chick-fil-a Chicken sandwiches, chicken nuggets, and milkshakes that induce a mild sense of euphoria in your mouth. But, you can still get your quintessential ballpark hot dogs and peanuts if that’s more your thing, including the foot long “Drive Dog,” which is not for the meek of stomach.

There is also an operational train track that runs directly behind right and center field, and every now and then you might be lucky enough to see a train go trundling by behind the outfield wall during the game. It has become such a regular occurrence that the Drive players in the bullpen, located behind right field, will throw a baseball to the engineer as he passes by. And, at times, the engineer will stop the train and watch an inning or two before chugging along, out of sight. However, while seeing the train is always a fun child-like experience, it’s hard to beat the tradition of singing along to Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” in the middle of the eighth inning with a chorus of giddy, and somewhat drunk, baseball brethren.

So, if you’re ever in the Downtown Greenville area you should definitely make plans to attend a Greenville Drive baseball game. It’s an afternoon/night you’re sure to never forget anytime soon. In fact, the entire Downtown Greenville area is pretty darn unforgettable when you have the chance to explore it properly. More than anything, I guess I’m trying to say, “Support your local baseball team.” Memories made at ballparks are one’s that you will cherish forever, and they’re also memories that you can proudly hand off to your inner-child to have fun with no matter how old you think you are.

You can check out everything Greenville Drive at their website: The Greenville Drive On-line

My Bucket List

2010-05-11T01:34:00.000-04:00

I have been rather listy as of late. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that my birthday is a few weeks away so I’m feeling rather self-serving, or something else. Whatever the case may be, I have another list for y’all to peruse. And, yes, it is utterly self-serving in every way. It’s also optimistic, which is something I definitely need at the moment. Things have been tough bordering on emotionally exhaustive lately, so any kind of rose-colored treatment of what I would like my future endeavors to be is a lovely respite from the seemingly day-to-day trudge through my pessimistic mood.

So, without further ado, I give you my Bucket List; or, what I would like to do before I kick the bucket and give my body back to the earth without complaint (this list will exclude all things I have done that were a part of my original Bucket List; I will create another post with a list of those activities in the not-so-near but probably not too distant future) This list, as is the case with all of my lists, is no particular order:

1) Take a boat ride down the Mississippi River
2) Go cage diving with Great White Sharks in Australia or South Africa
3) Go on a Storm Chaser expedition in search of tornadoes
4) Attend a Manchester United Football match at Old Trafford
5) Attend a World Cup match (preferably with the USMNT)
6) Attend a major professional tennis tournament (preferably Wimbledon or Australian Open)
7) Attend a Green Bay Packers game at Lambeau Field
8) Run and complete a 5k race
9) Run and complete a marathon
10) Go on a cross-country road trip
11) Go on a long train ride to nowhere in particular (overnight travel required)
12) Hike the Appalachian Trail (not in the Governor Sanford way)
13) Publish a novel
14) Visit Egypt and be touristy as hell by taking cheesy pictures in front of the pyramids while acting out scenes from Stargate SG-1
15) Visit the Mayan pyramids and ruins
16) Learn ballroom dancing
17) Participate on The Amazing Race
18) Tour the Australian Outback
19) Ride in a hot air balloon
20) Find the love of my life to do 1-19 with and more (including her list)

The Slick List

2010-05-06T17:21:00.008-04:00

I am, as my friends say, of the bald persuasion. I went completely bald about a year ago. Wait, I should say that I helped myself become completely bald about a year ago. In other words, I went Britany Spears one night and shaved my head. It was a fairly big step for me, but an inevitable step nonetheless. I had been blessed with the cursed “male pattern baldness” gene from my dad’s side of the family (thanks, dad), so it was pretty much a matter of time before the once healthy relationship between my hair and I ended in divorce. Therefore, I decided it best to break it off cleanly before we became steeped in heated court hearings involving a custody battle over the cat and who would get to maintain full possession of my person. Thankfully, it was an amicable separation.

The first month or so of hairlessness was the most difficult. I wavered, picking up the phone to call my absent follicles only to listen to its voice on the answering machine before pathetically hanging up. But, after the first month rolled by along with the second and third, I slowly became more and more comfortable with my freshly exposed dome.

One thing that helped was realizing that many of my favorite actors are/were bald at some point during their illustrious careers. Below is a list of these bald men of the finest sheen:

The Suave The Sci-Fi The Thespian The God Of Bald – Sir Patrick Stewart

Photo via BAM's Blog

Not only is he super suave, but he is also makes being bald sexy. I mean, what geeky sci-fi gal out there hasn’t wanted to give Jean-Luc Picard a good rub down aboard the Enterprise. Also, how can a super-thesp like Stewart not warrant the sexy label. What screams sexy louder than his kiss at the end of Robin Hood Men in Tights? ;)

The Good Who Once Was Bad But Became Good – Christopher Judge

Photo via Geekshow Entertainment

Teal’C was by far my favorite character in Stargate SG-1, followed closely by Daniel Jackson. I’m also pretty sure that you can’t find a finer specimen of alien baldness no matter how many galaxies you visit. One thing’s for certain, no other Goa’uld held a candle to his sly dome. Even though Teal'C would eventually become hairy on top, he still remains in high standing on the Slick List.

The Good Who Seemed Good But Then Kind Of Bad And Then Became Dead Only To Be Not So Dead And Definitely Bad…Maybe – Terry O’Quinn

Photo via Little Verses

An all around great actor with a large body of work ranging from The Stepfather movies, to bit parts on The X-Files, NCIS, Law and Order: CI, and Alias, to his most recognizable role as John Locke on Lost. While Mr. O’Quinn wasn’t always bald, he seemed to acquiesce to the inevitable much like myself. And now, he has easily become one of the most recognizable and badass bald men in entertainment. Rock on, Terry O’Quinn!

The Musically Inclined Who Went From Creepy Bald Sweeney Todd To Creepy Bald Observer – Michael Cerveris

Photo via New York Magazine

I experienced the awesome that is Michael Cerveris during my first trip to NYC in the summer of 2006. My sister and I went to see the revival of Sweeney Todd, and from that moment on I became a huge fan of Cerveris. Huge fan here meaning that I would have minor “geek outs” whenever I would see him in a random television show. Now, I have the pleasure of seeing him on a somewhat regular basis as the creepy Observer, September, on my favorite new television show, Fringe. I genuinely hope that I have the opportunity to see this bald man perform live again. It’s well worth the price of admission.

[Edit]: The I Can't Believe I Forgot To Include This Vocationally Gifted Favorite Actor Of Mine In The Original Post! - Lance Reddick

Photo via Fringebloggers

I have a been a big fan of Reddick's since his work on Oz. By way of my mother's addiction to all things Law and Order, I have been lucky enough to catch him on SVU and CI. And, lest we forget, Reddick also had an amazing run on The Wire and Lost (before unceremoniously getting plugged in the back of the head, but I guess we'll let it pass since it's Lost). Now, he's the smooth talking Agent Broyles on my favorite show Fringe. He's also an incredibly gifted singer. I would definitely be a much more rounded (pun so intended) bald guy if I had half of this guy's talent. Amazing actor and definitely worthy of being on the Slick List.

Fringe - The Musical Episode; or, in which Jonathan lets his geek flag fly!

2010-05-01T13:53:00.004-04:00

[I, personally, find nothing spoilery in this little mini-review. But, it should be noted that I do summarize certain aspects of the episodes narrative. You have been warned.]

My undying love for the television show Fringe is something I don’t deny. In fact, I try very hard to make everyone aware of it every chance I get. It’s also one of those obsessions that’s hard, at least for me, to explain. It combines a lot of my favorite narrative elements: solid cast, science fiction, paranormal events, time travel, parallel universe theory, the list could go on. However, episodes like this past Thursday's reaffirm exactly why I love this show.

Thursday’s episode was called “Brown Betty,” which is the name of a drug combination concocted by the “mad scientist” of sorts, Walter Bishop. While under the effects of the drug he proceeds to tell a fairy tale to a young girl named Ella (the niece of lead FBI agent Olivia Dunham) who had just been dropped off in the lab for Walter and Astrid (FBI agent/babysitter for Walter/lab assistant) to look after for a few hours. What follows is a strangely crafted narrative that blends genres in what I described as “Princess Bride meets campy film noir musical.”

I won’t go into specifics, but what I found most amusing and interesting were all of the musical references scattered throughout the episode. The basic premise of the fairy tale revolved around the acquisition of a synthetically altered heart. Walter cast his fairy tale with the people that surrounded him on a daily basis (a la The Wizard of Oz), casting himself as a whimsical scientist who refers to himself as the Candy Man on multiple occasions.

During his introduction we are given a brief aside while three corpses sit up on their gurneys and sing “The Candy Man” from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (a personal favorite movie of mine). Later in the episode, Walter would sing the lines from the chorus of the song to his son, Peter. Walter and Peter also have small compartments in their chests where their hearts should be, each compartment covered by small tin doors. Throughout the episode, Walter becomes a blend of Willy Wonka and the Wizard of Oz. He is the man behind the curtain, the dreamer of dreams, and also the creator of nightmares. More importantly, he also becomes the Tin Man along with his son Peter - two men trying to find a heart stolen by the other.

This is where the theme of broken hearts and lonely people comes into play, which blends beautifully with the campy, film noir aspect of the episode. Olivia is cast as a hard-nosed, down-on-her-luck private detective who has been burned by love one too many times. During the course of the episode she searches for Peter, finds him (more like he finds her), and they share a brief but tender moment together before being interrupted by a group known as The Watchers who are there to commandeer Peter’s heart. After the ensuing fight scene, Peter is left heartless and only Olivia can save him. While Olivia is trying to replace Peter’s heart with batteries (in a scene that alludes to the Milton Bradley game Operation, which is a reoccurring element in the show), Peter falls silent and still causing Olivia to believe she was unsuccessful in reviving him. During this moment, Olivia serenades a seemingly lifeless Peter with a heartbreaking rendition of the old Motown/Standard “For Once in My Life.”

There were also performances by Lance Reddick (who plays Agent Broyles, Olivia’s boss) and Jasika Nicole (who plays Astrid). Reddick performed a cover of Traffic’s song “The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys” in which he sang and played the piano, and Nicole did a phenomenal rendition of Tricia’s lines from A Chorus Line’s “I Hope I Get It.”

The only negative thing I have to say about the episode was that the amazing Michael Cerveris never got the chance to flex his vocal chords. I had the pleasure of seeing him as Sweeney Todd on Broadway during the 2006 revival, and he absolutely blew me away. I would have given my first child for a chance to see him do a musical number as one of the creepy Observers (or Watchers as they were called in the fairy tale).

All in all it was a fantastic episode that made my inner-theatre nerd squeal with delight. The performances were sound, although there were definitely some better than others (Reddick and Nicole were amazing, and Noble carried himself well). It reminded me of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer musical episode “Once More, With Feeling” in which the whole idea of the episode was to take the characters (and actors) completely outside of their comfort zone in the hopes of creating something utterly unique and raw. I feel that Fringe succeeded with flying colors, and most definitely took me over the rainbow and through Wonka’s labyrinth of dreams and nightmares for an hour of pure television joy.

Run, Jonathan, Run!

2010-04-29T17:05:00.000-04:00

I began running on a regular schedule roughly three months ago. Of course I chose to do so in the dead of winter, so I’ve mostly been confined to a treadmill. But, running is running in my book whether it is like a hamster on a stationary wheel or freely jogging in a park. Before my most recent stretch of continuous running I tried off and on without much success while living in Buffalo, NY. The lack of warm months and motivation (mostly due to the seemingly constant need to feed the graduate school monster with some form of writing) this early attempt was feeble at best. I did good to overcome the initial feeling of my lungs being ripped apart, stitched back together with salt and lemon covered thread, and then ripped apart again. And that was only during the first half mile; you can only imagine how the last half-mile felt. So, running and I suffered through quite the love/hate relationship with hate winning out in the end.

Once I graduated from the University at Buffalo, I found that I had a lot of time on my hands while attempting to search for jobs. While I thought I had come to the point of wiping my hands clean of running, a nagging desire to start again twitched in my legs until I finally gave in. The same pain kicked in for the first week, but I noticed that it was quickly replaced with a nearly calming effect by week two. By week four I was actually looking forward to running and was regularly knocking out around 2 miles. For the next month or so I hovered around the 2-2.5 miles mark. That is until yesterday when I hit my first running milestone. I ran my first 5k.

Running 5k (whether on a personal run or in an actual 5k race) was a goal of mine. In fact, it was the first goal I set out to achieve when I realized I was getting serious with my running regimen. My next goal will be to actually participate in a 5k race, which I may have the chance to accomplish as early as next month. There are a couple of local races in the middle of May that I’m considering taking part in.

As a person that never imagined that he would one day enjoy running, I have accomplished something rather impressive for myself. And, in the process, I have improved my health. I say that’s a win-win.

Next running goal after the 5k race? Is running 10k too much? At this point I’d have to say nothing is too much.

Happy Birthday, Harry

2010-04-26T21:52:00.011-04:00

This post is a few weeks late, but I wanted to get the right pictures together and it took me longer than I'd planned. Having said that, this will be a picture heavy, "aww" inducing post with a cuteness factor set at overload. Anyway, my dear cat, Harry, turned three-years-old April 4th. Here is my sentimental stroll down memory lane.

I remember when I first saw him in the garage of my parent's house. As I walked down the garage stairs I noticed a tiny ball of gray fuzz wobble across the bottom step, walk head first into the wall a few times, and then finally turn around and scurry into a mound of plastic grocery bags stacked next to the stairs. I knew at that moment that I had to have that cat. I dug around in the grocery bags and unearthed the tiny, blue-eyed kitten.

From that moment on I bottle fed him until he was licking small milk-filled plastic mason jar lids bare. While he was little I set up a tiny bed made of hand towels and a makeshift litter box constructed from a show box lid in the bathroom adjacent from my bedroom. There he would stay for about a month until my conscience couldn't take any more of his soft and terribly depressing meows, at which point I moved him and all of his belongings into my room. This would include his favorite squeaky mouse, which he still has and carries around today.

We bonded over the first year, during which I went through a pretty big change in my life. I graduated college and, by the time Harry was one-year-old, had been accepted into the Media Studies graduate program at the University of Buffalo. There was no question that my right-hand-man would be traveling with me, so on July 1st, 2009 I loaded up my car with Harry and a sparse amount of my belongings and shuffled up the road to Buffalo, NY.

It took a little while for Harry to adjust, but he quickly grew attached to the wide window ledges and could be seen perched on one of the three in my apartment during the day. He would sit on the ledges early in the morning hoping to catch a low flying bird or the resident rabbit that would hop around the bushes that lined the base of the apartment building, and during the winter he would attempt to swat at the large, wet snowflakes as they were pushed against the window panes by the sometimes wild lake effect winds.

All in all, Harry became my lifeline in Buffalo. No matter how bad things would seem to get, every time I came home to see him waiting in front of the door I couldn't help but smile. He was also a great form of comic relief. He'd play hide and seek in the closets and bathroom:

He would take over my laptop and itunes (during which he would usually play showtunes, no lie):

And, in the vein of his love for the theatrical, he would do his best impression of "Javert's Suicide" from the seat of my exercise bike:

As dorky as it may sound, he helped get me through a lot of rough times. So, I would like to wish Harry a happy third birthday. Here's to many, many more :)

The List

2010-04-23T11:45:00.005-04:00

Since I haven't embarrassed myself on this blog enough, I plan to rectify that here and now. I have recently been inspired by a friend of mine (whose blog you can read here: The Marvelous Mrs. E) to create my own "List." Specifically, a list of my deepest and most intense celebrity crushes. The only rule for the Marvelous Mrs. E "List" is that you are limited to five inductees. Evil rule, but so be it.

[Edit: I recently learned that the List and its 5 Inductee rule came from an episode of Friends. I've only seen the show in passing a few times, so I had no clue. Also, it is a list of celebrities you're allowed to sleep with. Technically, I'm allowed to sleep with any and all seeing as how I'm footloose and fancy free, but we'll ignore that part of the equation for the sake of this List. Anyway, pop-cultural reference crisis averted.]

So, after many painstaking minutes, here is my "List:"

1) Natalie Portman
2) Jewel Staite
3) Jenna Fischer
4) Felicia Day
5) Amy Acker

All right, ladies, I'm patiently waiting ;)

Inspiration From Still Life - A Novel Journey #4

2010-04-12T18:21:00.006-04:00

This is the last of the "wood type" pictures. It's a simple "birdhouse in tree" photo that I took because I found the lighting and shading against the tree interesting. It also allows for a close-up view of the tree bark and the branching of the limbs. I intend on using this type of tree (a peach tree) in my novel at some point, so this picture will come in handy. That's about it; there's not much to say about this one.

Inspiration From Still Life - A Novel Journey #3

2010-04-08T14:31:00.003-04:00

Today's picture is the third of four "wood type" pictures. The description for yesterday's post fits nicely with today's. The only addendum I would make would be that today's picture allows for a close examination of log cabins in the way the bird feeder is structured, which I found interesting. Unless I take multiple trips to the local state parks (which is not economically feasible at the moment) I have very limited firsthand interactions with log cabins. Also, the background in this photo is almost more intriguing to me than the bird feeder. The mixture of death and rebirth in terms of the garden goes great with the weathered, rural feel of the bird feeder.

I haven't needed to use it yet in terms of my writing, but it makes for a great addition to my collection of photographic material. I realized yesterday that I should probably take a picture of the cork board I'm using for my current novel. I pin pictures onto the cork board under different headings that vary from physical attributes (wood, plastic, metal, etc.) to colors and themes. It makes for an easy and quick reference point when I hit a snag while working on a descriptive paragraph. At times I arrange the cork board in concordance with that day's outline if an outline is in use, which is rare for me. Anyway, here's today's picture.

Inspiration From Still Life - A Novel Journey #2

2010-04-07T17:31:00.006-04:00

Here is the second of four "wood type" pictures.

Again, much like with the "See Rock City" birdhouse, I was interested in the different textures, colors, and warp in varying types of small wooden structures. You also tend to get an assortment of mildew formations on specific kinds of wood. For me, it's easier to discern individual details in a micro-environment as opposed to a macro-environment. I glean information better when things are presented to me on a smaller scale, which applies as much to landscape shots as it does to close-ups. In the case of landscapes, I'm apt to sectionalize instead of trying to capture a grandiose panoramic. It suits my style of writing better when I can restrict my subject matter. I'm prone to get carried away otherwise. In the case of this picture, the background becomes just as intriguing as the subject in the foreground in terms of descriptive material.

Inspiration From Still Life - A Novel Journey #1

2010-04-06T23:19:00.007-04:00

In order to get myself back into the blogging spirit - because, let's face it, I haven't been in a good month or so - I'm implementing a week of picture sharing. Now, I am in no way a professional photographer and I make no claims to be. Most of the pictures you will see here are taken with a simple Canon PowerShot A470. I also use, at times, very low-tech photo editing software - as seen in the picture of the marsh in my blog heading. I simply enjoy walking around and taking what I deem to be interesting snapshots of my surroundings. I do this mainly for the sake of having visual aids should I choose to write about a certain object or setting for a story I may be working on. The photographs always help in reestablishing the mood, colors, and subtle details that peaked my curiosity at the time of taking the picture.

I'm starting off with a recent picture I took of an old, weather-worn "See Rock City" birdhouse I stumbled across in my parent's backyard. I've recently used the details of the cracked and flaking wood in the description of multiple locations in the novel I'm currently working on. I've also made use of the dichotomy between the retention of vibrancy in the colors of the birdhouse and the degradation of the structure as a whole. That alone plays wonderfully on the page no matter the subject whether it be static or dynamic in nature.

50 (25) Book Challenge Official Update Post

2010-04-01T17:26:00.008-04:00

OK, so I recently realized that I am in desperate need of updating my blog and updating my 50 (25) Book Challenge. So, killing two birds with one stone sounded like a novel idea. Hence, what you're reading. I know, I'm a mighty clever little lad.

I also realized that I never established an official update post for my book challenge. Again, hence what you're reading. I'm painfully lazy (as if you hadn't already guessed by way of my lack of blogging lately) so instead of creating a blog post for each individual book read, I find it easier to establish one stand-alone post for us all to refer to for future inquiries into my book challenge progress, or lack thereof. Whenever I update this post, I'll make a note of it in future posts and refer you all via our friend "Harvey Hyperlink" back to this masterpiece of rambling.

So, without further ado (yay!), here is my official 50 (25) Book Challenge Tally:

1. The Road by Cormac McCarthy
2. Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts
3. The Thanatos Syndrome by Walker Percy
4. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
5. Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
6. Serena by Ron Rash
7. The Maze Runner by James Dashner
8. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien
9. Fever Pitch by Nick Hornby
10. Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami
11. Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami

Running and Writing

2010-02-17T17:57:00.001-05:00

I have recently begun a fairly strict exercise regimen by running at least 2.5 – 3 miles per day. For me, this equals to around 50 – 60 minutes of constant running and walking. I’ve been doing this for the past month now and I can already see a difference around my waist. Now, I’ve always been a really slim person for the better part of my life but I’m beginning to see more muscle showing through instead of just bone, which is nice; I’m not a big fan of being excessively boney. The increase in muscle mass is also helping with finding clothes that will actually fit me outside of the junior department. This equals less embarrassment for me while shopping. Although, I have recently discovered that American Eagle is an amazing place to shop for slender guys; I’ve picked up a lot of great shirts from there. Anyway, I digress.

Going back to the exercise thing, I began running on a regular basis after reading this great article (I'm a Runner: Haruki Murakami) about a favorite author of mine, Haruki Murakami, and his passion for running and writing, and how the two seem to be so harmoniously intertwined. I realized that, like Murakami, while I sit around most of the day typing on my computer my health would gradually begin to decline. I have also come to realize that without a sound body one cannot have as sound a mind as one would like, particularly when that “one” is attempting to write a passable novel. I have noticed a huge increase in productivity, drive, and quality on my part since I started my daily running regimen. So far I’ve done a great job of keeping up with my running schedule even when I miss a day or two due to social obligations (weddings, family visits, etc.). I hope to keep it that way.

In other news, the novel is coming along nicely and quicker than expected. This is fine news for me since I was hoping to do a thorough proofread over the summer. Hopefully this schedule will hold.

While I’m on the subject, are any of my few and fine followers runners? I’d love to hear from you and find out about your individual running regimens and why you started/continue to run?

50 (25) Book Challenge Update

2010-02-08T20:09:00.001-05:00

After already falling ridiculously behind in my 50 Book Challenge (or 25 Book Challenge as it should probably be called), I am finally ready to update you all on my progress! Yes, that’s right, I’ve finally finished my second book! Yippee, throw me a party, jump up and down, make funny noises with random body parts, and send me money (just kidding; you know, unless you really want to)!

I finally finished the epic, and somewhat long-winded, novel Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts. Now, while it was a tad bit more akin to a “let’s describe how the dust on the dust looks like Charles Dickens” than I would like, the meat of the novel (both plot wise and philosophically) was quite amazing. If you can get through the sometimes seemingly endless run of details and flimsy dialogue, you’re in for a treat of a novel. It’s really hard for any novel of this length to be flawless, but in the case of Shantaram it’s finer qualities outweigh the less than stellar bits.

So, as of today, this is the run down of my current 50 (25) Book Challenge:

1. The Road – Cormac McCarthy
2. Shantaram – Gregory David Roberts

I am currently reading The Thanatos Syndrome by Walker Percy – a splendid novel as always from Mr. Percy (admittedly my favorite author and the inspiration for the title of my blog). This is the last of his novels that I have to read, so it’s a tad bittersweet for me. I guess that’s more of a reason to go back and read all of his novels again.

ONE Help Haiti: Drop the Debt Petition

2010-01-20T17:06:00.004-05:00

This is a position, headed by the ONE organization, to urge our world leaders to forgive Haiti's $1 billion debt in light of the tragic earthquake. If you would like to help with this cause, please sign the petition (linked below) and pass it along. The last day to sign the petition is January 29th, 2010.

ONE Help Haiti: Drop the Debt Petition

Time Travel in Australia?

2010-01-20T12:52:00.003-05:00

I just entered a contest to win a trip to Australia for next year's 2011 Australian Open, and I noticed a rather shocking bit of information on their official sweepstakes rules page:

"Winner and guest must travel departing on or about January 9, 2011 and returning on or about January 19, 2010, exact dates to be confirmed and finalized by Sponsor."

Apparently, one of the prizes for this trip is time travel. I have to win this thing!

P.S. If you want to check the actual page to make sure I'm not fudging the text, you can check it out at Sweepstakes Rules: Tennis Channel. The text I copied is about 21 lines down under Section 5: Prizes.

"Carolina, one day I'll, someday I'll come home."

2010-01-19T17:51:00.003-05:00

The Avett Brothers New Year’s Eve Extravaganza began with a drive from Greenville, SC to Asheville, NC. The trip totals around 1hr. 30min., so all in all not a bad drive for an evening as epic as what we (my little sister and I) experienced on the closing of the double-aught decade.

Once we trundled into the little spit-fire box that is downtown Asheville, the first bit of business that needed taking care of was finding somewhere to eat. We walked along the seemingly endless sidewalks in close proximity to the Asheville Civic Center and came upon a little restaurant tucked neatly in one of the corners of the Grove Arcade called Carmel’s Restaurant and Bar.

Immediately upon entering the restaurant you feel as if you have been pulled into a well guarded secret, comfortable and yet on the edge of something unique. The atmosphere was a bit more casual and laid back than one would expect from a restaurant that specializes in Alfresco Dining and would be considered quite chic by modern standards. Still, while eating a cup of magnificent Tomato Bisque soup, I never felt more comfortable and at ease with the waiting staff and other patrons than I did that afternoon. If you have a chance to drop by Carmel’s during a trip to Asheville I would highly recommend it. However, you should definitely call ahead and make reservations if you intend on eating there for dinner – 5pm to closing. We were lucky to get a bar side table for our late lunch, but they were already completely booked for dinner.

After eating at Carmel’s, we decided to sidle up the sidewalk a ways and stop in at a little café called True Confections – also located in the Grove Arcade. We both got a coffee and a piece of cinnamon coffee cake – delicious! – and then shot the breeze at one of their window front tables while watching people troll along the sidewalk. Once the coffee had warmed our bones and the cake had sweetened our stomachs we made our way to wait in line for the concert.

We waited in line – cold but never defeated – for two hours until the doors finally opened at around 8pm. The Asheville Civic Center, for those who have never been there, is a fairly intimate venue for its size. It’s more like a small gym than a larger stadium-esque setting like The Bi-Lo Center in Greenville, SC or The Philips Arena in Atlanta, GA.

Since we were fairly close to the head of the line we had a pretty good pick of where we wanted to sit. There was a line of folks that bought tickets when the concert was originally planned to take place in The Thomas Wolfe Auditorium – before it sold out and was moved to a larger venue – that was let in first at around 7:30pm. They had taken up most of the good positions on the floor in front of the stage, so we decided to find the best seats possible directly stage left.

The seats ended up giving us an amazing perspective of the concert both on-stage and of the pit in front, which turned out to be just as entertaining to watch as the performers. During Langhorne Slim’s set – the second opener and by far the showstopper of the night next to The Avett Brothers – there was a skirmish in the pit as a guy tried to push his way up to the front. Once he was close enough one of the big security guys reached in, grabbed the guy by the neck, and yanked him out of the pit. When it happened, Langhorne Slim just kind of shrugged and went back to his booty shakin’, foot stompin, ass kickin’ set as the crowd cheered. The other opener was a band I wasn’t familiar with called Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside. Their sound wasn’t too bad, but I found it difficult to understand their singer at times, which made their set a bit less enjoyable than I would have hoped. However, I did make it a point to search out their music online the day after the concert and give it a proper close listen and actually enjoyed it.

So, after the two openers, it was finally time for The Avett Brothers to come out and rock the house…and they didn’t disappoint. First of all, if you ever have the opportunity to attend an Avett Brothers concert do not let it slip away. It will, by far, be the most memorable evening of your life. Seriously, their music is brilliant enough on the albums, but each song becomes a completely different animal when performed live. I would love to go through each song and talk about how my head ached from the constant bobbing, and my knees throbbed from the involuntary foot stomping that came over me, but it would become a bit redundant after the third song of their twenty-three song set – that’s including their two song encore. The concert was broken up into two distinct sections: before midnight and after midnight. The closing of the old year was relentless and the breaking in of the new one was just as unyielding. I’m going to post the set list below and put an asterisk next to the songs I was most excited to hear, and then list the songs I wish they would have played that evening:

The Avett Brothers – Asheville Civic Center New Year’s Eve 2009
• Greatest Sum
• Go To Sleep
• Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise*
• Will You Return?*
• Talk On Indolence*
• Ballad of Love and Hate*
• January Wedding*
• The Perfect Space*
• Tin Man
• Distraction #74*
• Salvation Song
• Wanted Man*
• This Will Be Our Year (Zombies cover)
• And it Spread
• Tear Down the House*
• Salina* (this song has a particularly personal meaning to me since leaving Buffalo)
• Gimmieakiss*
• I and Love and You*
• Swept Away* (with Miss Bonnie…I nearly died during this song; it’s so sweet)
• Slight Figure of Speech*
• Laundry Room
(Encore)
• Paranoia in B Major*
• Colorshow*

Songs I wish would have been performed:
If It’s the Beaches, Pretty Girl from Chile, Murder in the City, Denouncing November Blue, and Bella Donna (there are plenty more, but these are the closest to my heart that weren’t included).

There it is; the long post-Avett Brothers concert post I promised too long ago. I hope, more than anything, that it compels any and all of you to give this great group of guys a listen. They’re well worth the time.

What do you do with a BA in English?

2010-01-11T19:23:00.002-05:00

You can use it as a mouse pad; that seems to work.

Twenty-ten?

2010-01-01T16:39:00.000-05:00

A lot has happened since the last time I posted on this here blog. What better way to get back into the blogging spirit (and bring in the new year) than with a list:

- I moved from Buffalo, NY back to my lovely little city of Greenville, SC
- I, officially, earned my MA in Humanities Interdisciplinary (Film and English)
- I’m currently looking for a job, not because I want to but because those pesky student loans aren’t going to pay for themselves while I’m figuring out where life will lead me next
- I have resumed work on my novel, which I hope to complete by the end of the year
- I watched my nephew dig through mounds of wrapping paper during his first Christmas
- And, finally, I rocked in the New Year with the greatest little band out of North Carolina at the Asheville Civic Center last night; If you have not heard of The Avett Brothers, you better get on that now (I’ll update with a quick post on the concert either later today or tomorrow)

So, I guess my two main objectives for this year will be to get a job and finish my novel. The latter will probably be easier than the former in this job market, but here’s hoping. There’s also the possibility of me partaking in a local MLIS program starting this summer, but I’m still juggling that idea around.

Oh, and one final thing…

Happy New Year!

Favorite Albums of 2009

2009-12-14T14:32:00.003-05:00

I feel horrible for being as MIA as I’ve been this month on my blog. There has been a lot going on that mostly involved my thesis and tying up multiple loose ends on campus before graduation. But, all of that is finally settled and the only thing left for me to do now is to pack my car and move back into the loving arms of the South this Saturday. As long as I can get away from the bitter cold and the suffocating snow in Buffalo, I’ll be a much happier man.

Anyway, so this post isn’t a complete gripe-fest about my newly acquired distaste for snow (or at least massive amounts of lake effect snow), I am going to supply you all with my first of two “Favorite of 2009” lists. Today’s list will be my “Favorite Albums of 2009” list. My second list will be my “Favorite Movies of 2009.” I’m waiting until the end of the month to post that list until I have the chance to watch a few more recently and yet-to-be-released movies. So, without further ado, here is my “Favorite Albums of 2009” list. Enjoy, or deride; you know the drill.

(Note: These albums are presented in no particular order. It’s difficult for me to order these by preference since, when it comes to music, I tend to love equally.)

Favorite Albums of 2009:
I and Love and You - The Avett Brothers
Songs From the Vault: Vol. 1 - Matthew Ebel
Humbug – The Arctic Monkeys
Outer South – Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band
Keep it Hid – Dan Auerbach
Hazards of Love – The Decemberists
I Told You I Was Freaky – Flight of the Conchords
Around the Well – Iron and Wine
Midnight at the Movies – Justin Townes Earle
Sea Sew – Lisa Hannigan
Crazy Love – Michael Bublé
Life of the World to Come – The Mountain Goats
Sigh No More – Mumford and Sons
The Resistance – Muse
Normal as Blueberry Pie: A Tribute to Doris Day – Nellie McKay
Sunny Side Up – Paolo Nutini
Far – Regina Spektor
Heartbeat Radio – Sondre Lerche
No Line on the Horizon – U2
Naked Willie – Willie Nelson

Would You Make Up My Mind!

2009-12-08T21:14:00.001-05:00

Making decisions is not one of my finer qualities – in fact, I down right suck at it. I couldn’t count on two hands and two feet the amount of times I’ve given up in defeat when trying to decide between doing one thing over another. I also couldn’t count on two hands and two feet the amount of times I’ve resorted to flipping a coin in order to decide between task A or task B. I’m a sad, sad case of indecisiveness.

However, apart from my disturbing Two Face-esque reliance on heads or tails, I have recently stumbled upon a website that has been aiding in relieving the stress caused by my intensely irresolute mind: Random.org - The Random Number Service

Now, this website cannot be used for all moments of dithering. It supplies you with a simple “Random Number Generator” with which you set a minimum and maximum number total, and in turn receive a truly randomized numerical response (so says the website at least). While this wouldn’t exactly help me in, let’s say, choosing between rolling down or kicking out the window of a sinking car, it’s golden for choosing the next Netflix movie to watch in my queue or which book to read from my personal “Reading List.”

I’ve only been using it for a few days now, but it has already saved me tons of time I would have spent trying to decide what to do/watch/read. Of course, what am I supposed to do with all of that extra time? I wonder if Random.org can help me out with that too?

FIFA 2010 World Cup Draw

2009-12-04T14:18:00.002-05:00

The World Cup. The wet sports dream of every football/soccer fan in the world. FIFA held their World Cup Drawing today, and the results – for the USA, at least – couldn’t have made me happier.

Now, don’t worry, I’m not going to devote a lengthy post here with intensive, personal analysis of each of the 8 groups. No, I wouldn’t do that to y’all. I’m pretty sure that the few people who read this blog aren’t the biggest of football/soccer fans – although, if you were, I’d love to kick up a little conversation with you in the comments. What I will do, however, is take a semi-close look at Group C – the USA’s group – and what I believe to be “the group of death,” Group G. And away we go.

Group C: England, USA, Algeria, and Slovenia

I’m not sure if the USA could have gotten a luckier draw. Aside from England, the other two countries represented here are fairly tame and low on the FIFA rankings totem poll – if you take much stock in the rankings, that is. However, the USA has shown before that they rise to the occasion in the tougher groups, and kind of stumble in the lesser groups. I’m hoping this won’t be the case here. They have a legitimate chance to break through the group stage and into the Round of 16 for the first time since 2002. After the debacle in 2006, to get into the Round of 16 would be a huge accomplishment. Also, who doesn’t want to see the England v. USA match-up? I think I’m most excited about this match. They’ve had some friendlies leading up to this, but there is nothing like the atmosphere of the World Cup. I can’t wait to don my USA jersey and scarf on June 12, 2010 when the Yanks take on the Brits. It’s going to be epic. Apart from their match against England, I agree with a lot of the football/soccer analysts who are saying that if England and the USA cannot take care of Algeria and Slovenia then they don’t deserve to move on. It really should be an easy push through for England and the USA. Here’s hoping. I’m also hoping that the USA can possibly take the top spot in the group away from England and, hopefully, avoid having to possibly play Germany in the Round of 16 since it looks like Germany will be favored to win their group. Anyway, that’s all I’ll say about that.

Very quickly, I want to address the group I believe to be the group of death for the 2010 World Cup, Group G: Brazil, Korea DPR, Côte d'Ivoire, and Portugal.

I’m not really going to go in depth here, but damn that’s a tough group. No offense to North Korea but they don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting through. But who is going to move through? I think you have to pick Brazil as one of the two teams, but after that it’s a toss up. Portugal had it tough during qualification, but they usually show up during the big tournaments. However, I think I’ll go with Brazil and Côte d'Ivoire as the two teams to make it through Group G. Either way, it’s going to be a blast watching the matches involving this group.

I’m sure this goes without saying, but I’m incredibly excited about the upcoming World Cup. I can’t wait for the summer of 2010 to roll around. As always, no matter what happens to my dear USA, this tournament is going to be brilliant. Come on, Yanks!

Hey, you know what?

2009-12-03T23:27:00.002-05:00

I officially earned my Masters in Film Studies today. After all of the hard work, tension headaches, all-nighters, countless drafts and revisions, and anxious waiting, I can finally say that I have successfully ~~survived~~ completed Grad. School. For all of the ups there was an equal amount of downs, but in the end I wouldn't trade this experience for anything. It's allowed me to grow into a person I never knew existed, and I can honestly say that I'm proud of who I have become. I know that I have a lot more growing up to do; this was just another stepping stone to stroll across on my way to whatever lies ahead for me in life. But no matter how small of a step (only 1 and a half years of my life) it feels like it has made the biggest impact on me emotionally, psychologically, and personally. I look forward to the many challenges ahead, because after my brief time as a graduate student I honestly feel like I can take on just about anything. A fresh breath of life has been blown into me, and I'm ready to ride the feeling to wherever it may take me. If the last 27 years are an indication of what's to come, then the next 27+ should be pretty damn interesting.

World AIDS Day

2009-12-01T00:04:00.002-05:00

Today is World AIDS Day. It’s a day to help spread awareness and knowledge about the disease in an attempt to counter the unfounded lies, rumors, and prejudice affecting people afflicted with AIDS. This day of awareness is symbolized by the wearing of a red ribbon. I’m showing my support for this cause by wearing a red ribbon throughout the day, and also by attaching the virtual red ribbon (seen above and blog right) to my blog. I invite you all to do the same. Together, we can help spread the truth behind the lies about AIDS.

If you would like to learn more about World AIDS Day and find out different ways in which you can help spread the word (and also to get your own virtual red ribbon), visit the official World AIDS Day website: HIV: Reality

Black Friday; or, The Running of the Bulls American Style!

2009-11-27T22:31:00.005-05:00

I enjoy the Friday after Thanksgiving about as much as I enjoy Thanksgiving itself. Not for the 5am shopping. I leave that to the loonies who enjoy the United States’ version of the running of the bulls. No, I enjoy what has been coined as “Black Friday” for two very personal reasons: it’s the first day that I allow myself to listen to Christmas songs, and it’s the day when I have my annual holiday viewing of the film Love Actually.

I adore the film for various reasons, but mostly I love watching it for the Colin Firth/Lúcia Moniz (Jamie/Aurelia) story. It’s just a beautifully quirky love story about two completely different people from completely different cultural backgrounds coming together despite a loss in translation – a narrative that truly expresses the fact that love knows no bounds. Also, it’s the perfect love story for any slightly geeky, hopeless romantic like myself. A man cheated in love secludes himself in a quaint cabin in the country to write away his sorrow. In the process he falls in love with a Portuguese girl who has also fallen in love with him over the course of their time together in the country, but because they speak different languages their true affection for one another goes unnoticed. However, in the end, the language barrier is transcended and a match is made between the two unlikely lovers on Christmas Eve. As hokey as it sounds, it never fails to make me happy – not just that story, but also the movie as a whole. It’s a great way to kickoff the holiday season; at least I think so.

Anyway, apart from watching Love Actually, the other essential element to a good stay-at-home Black Friday is a great Christmas songs play list. More importantly, making sure that the Pogues song “Fairytale of New York” is a part of that play list. Honestly, this song should be at the top of everyone’s Christmas songs list. It’s a classic. Also, Vienna Teng’s “The Atheist Christmas Carol” and Tom Waits' "Christmas Card From A Hooker in Minneapolis" are fine ways to slide into a more secularized holiday season. I’m going to include below what I listened to this morning while I cooked breakfast, ate breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen after breakfast, and sat in the living room with my fat and happy house cat. Good times.

Christmas Play List: (A)=Album
1) Christmas Caravan (A) – The Squirrel Nut Zippers
2) “Fairytale of New York” – The Pogues featuring Kirsty MacColl
3) “Last Christmas” – Glee Cast
4) “Christmas at Ground Zero” and “The Night Santa Went Crazy” by “Weird Al” Yankovic
5) Let it Snow (EP) – Michael Bublé
6) Maybe This Christmas (A) – Various Artists
7) “Christmas is All Around” – Billy Mack (Bill Nighy) from Love Actually Soundtrack
8) “The Atheist Christmas Carol” – Vienna Teng
9) “Bizarre Christmas Incident” – Ben Folds
10) "Christmas Card From A Hooker in Minneapolis" - Tom Waits

There’s plenty more, but those songs and albums will trickle out along the way. There’s still plenty of time before Christmas rolls around.

Since I kind of made a big deal last month about my growing culinary skills, I thought I might as well jot down what I had for my Thanksgiving breakfast and dinner this year:

Breakfast Menu:
- Banana Pancakes, Fried Sausage, Grits, Scrambled Eggs, and Biscuits.

Dinner Menu:
- Roasted Turkey, Mashed Potatoes and Gravy, Green Beans, Cornbread Dressing, and Sweet Cornbread Rolls.

Yum.

Awkward Moment in A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T21:49:00.005-05:00

Watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving has become a tradition for me on Thanksgiving Day. The day just doesn't seem the same unless I watch it. However, for the last two years the final scene of the cartoon has troubled me. This is why.

Fowl cannibalism

Movember Mustache Reactions

2009-11-26T17:08:00.005-05:00

Here are some of my favorite reactions to the debut of my Movember 'stache yesterday:

“Ha did you have that yesterday? I didn't even notice?”- JL

“On second thought – it’s not a bad look for you.” – Other JL (I was never given her first thought, which worries me a little.)

“Hahaha awesome!” – CW

“Jon, there is something under your nose...” – NB

“Was Lenin's mustache the inspiration? Because that's what it looks like!” – HB (Communist party at my house. Чolla!)

“Looking good there! Glad you're taking part in this, too. I look like a weird skinny biker with my Mo...” – ME

“Hah my brother grew some crazy mustache for that...pretty funny.” – VVR

And my personal favorite:

“That's a handsome mustache and well on its way but where's your hat and suitable attire? ;-)” – LB (The picture below was attached to this response.)

Turkey Day

2009-11-26T09:28:00.005-05:00

Like most years around this time I have quite a bit to be thankful for. This year, I'm thankful for:

- Making it to another Thanksgiving Day when there were times I wasn't sure if I would
- Good health amongst tiny infectious, body invading swine
- My cat, Harry, who has kept me sane while living in Buffalo the past year and a half

- My family for always supporting me in whatever crazy thing I decide to do
- My friends back home and my new friends in Buffalo for always lending encouragement and a laugh when I needed it most
- A comfortable place to live in the sometimes not so comfortable climate of Buffalo
- Successfully completing my thesis and being close to earning my Masters degree

But most of all I'm thankful for my nephew, Davis, who was born this year on February 27th. I've always wanted to be an uncle, and this year it finally happened. I also couldn't have asked for a more precious little guy to have as a nephew. Love you, little man, and I can't wait until I go home for Christmas so I can see you again.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

50th Post = Debut of my Movember Mustache!

2009-11-25T15:21:00.003-05:00

I had a few things that I wanted to blog about leading up to this, but I refrained (something incredibly difficult for me to do impatient as I am) so that I could make my 50th post somewhat special.

Since I promised to post pictures of the Cavalier-style mustache I have been growing for charity (to help raise money and awareness for testicular and prostate cancer, of which you can still donate to here until November 30th: Matt's Mofries), I figured that my 50th post would be the best place to debut it.

So, without further ado, I give to you the pictorial unveiling of my suave and debonair Movember mustache. Enjoy, ridicule, laugh...you know the drill ;)

P.S. Congratulations to Matthew Ebel and CC Chapman who have together raised, so far, $3,945.31 for the fight against testicular and prostate cancer. Great job, guys! I'm happy to have been a part of it all.

Hm, I wonder what I've been up to lately...

2009-11-19T22:57:00.000-05:00

Quick little personal update coming to you in the form of a list:

- Thesis Progress: Rough draft is complete. Revisions are in progress for the final draft.

- Committee Meetings: Both readers loved my analysis and are currently looking over my introductory material, which they will discuss with me either next Tuesday or the Tuesday after Thanksgiving break. My committee chair said that my analysis sounded very Barthian in its execution. Hopefully he wasn’t just blowing smoke up my ass because I take that as a very high compliment considering my theoretical admiration for Roland Barthes. Anyway, in short, things are looking spiffy on the thesis front.

- I’m 64 pages into Shantaram and enjoying it so far. It takes about 20-25 pages to get going, but after that it becomes pretty enthralling. I’m looking forward to reading the rest.

- My cat is becoming increasingly jealous of my laptop, which has become the catalyst for quite the battle between Harry and my Macbook for lap time. I have a small Macbook and Harry is a rather large cat, so he usually wins the battle by pushing the Macbook off my lap by way of his large butt. He then proceeds to paw my stomach feeling quite pleased with himself. Ah, the spoils of victory.

- I saw my first set of Christmas lights on my way home from dinner last night. I kind of died a little inside. Come on, people! It’s too early to start stringing the lights. Ugh.

- Realized that today is, hopefully, the beginning of my final month in Buffalo. If everything goes as planned I’ll be on the road and driving back home December 19th (December 20th at the latest). I can’t believe it’s already almost time to leave. Where has this semester gone? Where has the last year and a half gone for that matter?

50 Book Challenge

2009-11-18T22:49:00.003-05:00

It’s that time of the year again. That time when I make my annual pledge to the 50 Book Challenge, and then proceed to fail miserably.

My challenge for this past year ended Tuesday. I shot for the stars and ended up somewhere in the stratosphere before free falling like a Leonid meteor back to earth. Translation: I read 20/50 books from November 17, 2008 – November 17th, 2009. Fail.

What did I learn besides free falling is a bitch? Shoot for the layer of the atmosphere you’re most likely to break into and make sure your parachute is in working order – makes the trip much more enjoyable. Translation: Set a smaller goal, stupid!

This is the plan:
Since I successfully read 20 books during last year’s challenge, I feel that it’s safe to assume I can read 20 books during any given year. So it’s not much of a challenge to set as a goal the amount of books you already know you can read in a year. Therefore, I’m going to take the total of the previous year’s challenge and add 5 more books to it for the current challenge. I think that seems practical enough to me.

So, for this year’s 50 Book Challenge (November 19th, 2009 – November 19th, 2010) I pledge to read at least 25 books. Anymore than that will just be icing on the cake. I’m planning on archiving this and my “Book Total Update” post so it will be easier for you and me to keep track of my progress without having to rummage through the tags. This will probably come in the form of a 50 Book Challenge category that will be positioned blog right, but we’ll see.

I hope some of the rest of you will take up this challenge as well. If you do participate, I would love for you to link to your respective book challenge update posts in the comments so I can see what you’re reading. If you don't have a blog, just update in the comments of this post. Just a suggestion – could be fun. Anyway, happy reading!

First selection of the new challenge year: Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts

*Note: You can also keep up with what I am currently reading and just finished reading with the list I created positioned (yep, you guessed it) blog right.

To check out where the idea originated from just click this nifty banner:

Movember

2009-11-18T11:48:00.003-05:00

Movember is an event that takes place during November in which men across the world grow a mustache (any style) throughout the entire month in an attempt to raise awareness (and donations) for prostate and testicular cancer.

While November is also designated as “National Grow a Beard Month,” I already had that going on and I wasn’t doing it for a good cause. So, through much persuasion from the ubër-talented Matthew Ebel, I decided that I would man up and grow a sweet ‘stache during this year’s Movember challenge.

Matt is going for the tried and true trucker style ‘stache (the fu man chu), but that just isn’t quite my style. Being the gentleman I am, I began to search through the history of gentlemanly ‘staches to find my whiskery match. After much debate (mostly with myself but also with a few friends) I decided to grow a Cavalier style mustache. It’s looking spiffy at the moment, and since my facial hair grows really fast it’s already been in need of a slight trim (which is within the rules as long as you don’t trim it completely off before the end of November).

I’m not going to reveal my Movember masterpiece until the end of the month. However, until then, I invite you all to check out Matt's Movember page and donate however much or however little you can to this great cause (you can also check out some pictures of Matt’s fu man chu). If you cannot donate, I would greatly appreciate it if you could help spread the word. Increased awareness of prostate and testicular cancer is crucial in the attempt to find a cure. With your help we can kick testicular cancer in the balls!

Thanks, and let the countdown begin to the revelation of my Movember ‘stache on November 30th!

*Edit: When you go to Matt's Movember page there are two donating options: "Donate to Me" and "Donate to the Team." Either one is fine, but Matt is in competition with CC Chapman as to who can get the most donations. So, if you choose to donate to him it helps in the competition. Just wanted to clear that up.

Flashlight Worthy Books

2009-11-16T19:58:00.004-05:00

I love to read. Reading makes you smart and well versed and stuff (contrary to that entire sentence). However, I have a problem with finding new books to read. I’m not quite as freewheeling as some of my friends who can just peruse random aisles at the public library/bookstore, grab a random book, and be content. I have had way too many lousy experiences doing that; so, I subsequently quit using the “blind date” method long ago.

For the most part, I rely heavily on book suggestions from friends and family. Of course, tastes vary from person to person, but this method has worked well for me over the years. Still, I’m often left with an urgent need to have a new book by my side (call it my safety blanket; I also apologize for just using the passive voice, but you can all deal) and no one to help me out in choosing said book. Thankfully, I ran across (or rather it ran across me) a nifty little website called Flashlight Worthy Books on Twitter.

The website is made up of countless book suggestions all grouped nice and neatly in lists. The lists range from "Best Books About WASPs" to "Books That Make My Brain Melt (In A Good Way)" Even though I just recently picked up a load of great suggestions from some friends of mine on Facebook, the lists of suggestions on this website has helped in establishing a fairly extensive list of books to look into once my list of friend’s suggestions has been exhausted. Also, the people that run the website are a cool bunch to talk books with and, seeing as I’m an English major, that makes them pretty awesome in my book (excuse the pun…please).

They are linked in my blogroll positioned blog right, but if you don’t feel like scrolling through my list of suggested blogs then you can just click this here link and check them out:

Flashlight Worthy: The Best Books and Book Lists

Early Holiday Vices

2009-11-15T11:21:00.002-05:00

I recently succumbed to one of my holiday vices. It wasn’t Christmas songs. Nope, I’m quite steadfast in my belief that one should not jingle their bells and barum-ba-bum-bum until the day after Thanksgiving. However, there is one holiday goody that I can’t seem to avoid until after ample amounts of turkey and dressing have made an intimate acquaintance with my stomach: Reese’s Peanut Butter Christmas Trees. What can I say? We all have our weaknesses and they were on sale for just 50 cents apiece. I couldn’t pass that up so I got seven – one for each day of the week. It’s been a good week.

Farewell Buffalo Series #5 - Palladino's Pizzeria

2009-11-14T12:51:00.003-05:00

As I sit here watching college football on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Buffalo, I’m left thinking about the three things that usually come to mind as I watch pigskins spiral through the air: beer, pizza, and hot wings.

I have the beer – in fact I have plenty of beer thanks to my dad replenishing my dwindling stock of Yuengling during his visit last weekend – so that’s not a problem. Unfortunately, due to a lack of funds in the ole bank account, I am lacking in the pizza and hot wings department. And while I would be remise to not mention Duffs in this time of crisis, I’ve already written a “Farewell Buffalo Series” entry about them; so, they’ll just have to deal.

Instead, and this will be mercifully short, I’ll mention how much I’m missing the unique taste of Buffalo styled pizza and hot wings (third best wings in Buffalo, in my opinion) from my favorite little hole in the wall pizza joint, Palladino’s Pizzeria.

Palladino’s is about a 5 minute drive and 10 minute walk from my apartment, so I’m a regular customer whether I’m picking up a medium pie and double order of wings or just stopping by to order a couple slices of cheese and pep. Either way, it’s a great pizza joint and one of the things I was looking forward to experiencing during my time in the city of Buffalo – being within walking distance of a local pizzeria. Palladino’s has not failed me.

It’s also been an interesting experience eating what I like to call “Buffalo Style” pizza. I think every major city has a unique twist on the Italian-American dish. While Buffalo’s is definitely unique (a sweet tomato sauce, large slices, and semi-thick dough) it does seem to share a lot of similarities to Chicago Deep Dish style pizza, just not quite as doughy. It took a little getting used to, but now I love it. Definitely beats the craptastic generic slop of the national chain pizza restaurants.

Anyway, the owner of Palladino’s is a class act and the employees have always been friendly and helpful. I would highly recommend anyone giving them a visit if you’re ever in the Buffalo, NY area.

The Road

2009-11-13T19:54:00.003-05:00

"The young man stands on the edge of his porch.
The days were short and the father was gone.
There was no one in the town and no one in the field.
This dusty barren land had given all it could yield."
- Mumford and Sons "Dustbowl Dance"

I’ve never had an extraordinary relationship with my dad. Nothing someone would sit down and write a novel about one day, not even me. But it has always been a rock solid relationship. There were definitely moments, especially when I was young, when there was a bit more distance than I could understand at the time. I was left to my own machinations – playing different sports alone in the front yard, pitch and catch with an imaginary team. I think some of that is where my insecurities, especially a lot of the masculine insecurities I went through in high school, originated.

Aside from the few fleeting moments on the weekends, my father and I never spent a great deal of time with each other as I grew up. He was, and still is, a hard working guy. He never became a work-a-holic, but he always knew what had to be done in order to keep our little family afloat. I appreciate it now, and I’m in awe of all he’s done, but it was hard for me as a youngster and especially through high school, never fully understanding why I was often left on my own, why my lot as a social leper was caste without my say so.

Once high school ended things seemed to change. I guess it was the fact that I was allowed to grow, to mature alone, and to fully appreciate what it really meant to be a man (I have to also thank my mom and wonderful sisters for that as well). College began as roughly as high school it seemed – bouts with depression, the beginning of my anxiety disorder, and my developing need to push away instead of invite in (something I still have problems with; I’ve been alone for so long it’s difficult to think of living day to day otherwise). But as before, things changed once I was accepted into Clemson University (I transferred from a junior college); another rung in the ladder of maturity materialized and I was that much closer to understanding my dad, to understanding myself.

My three years at Clemson University shaped me, largely, into the person I am now – utterly independent, still alone, still longing, but nevertheless still working hard for something better. And while I’m a completely different man in almost every way from my dad, we share that one tireless trait of never quitting and never backing down when life stacks all 52 cards against you. I understand why my dad was a fleeting presence in my life. Mentors never hold your hand entirely to guide you through a given journey; they accompany you, they show you, but then they also let you go, let you experience the journey on your own, mature into something different and – hopefully – better. I respect my dad for doing that, for allowing me to become the man I was destined to be and not the man he believed I should be.

Because of that I’ve grown closer to my dad than I ever thought I would. We share a mutual respect for each other, and a headiness about life that can only grow with the time we have left together. Now whenever I read or watch anything that portrays a strong father/son relationship I always get extra sentimental. It’s a reason why I love the show Fringe so much, oddly enough. The quirky, but tender bond between Walter and Peter touches me in a way that goes deeper than fiction probably should – at least deeper than science fiction probably should. Nevertheless, like Fringe, I was able to relive my own life’s journey with my dad while reading Cormac McCarthy’s novel The Road.

As I read it I couldn’t help but put myself in the role of “the little boy” and my dad in the role of “the man.” As creepy and horrific as the novel is at times, it’s ultimately (to me at least) a post-apocalyptic portrayal of our everyday journey through life. The story of a father and son who, against all odds, set out to affect each other’s lives in a way that only a journey about survival, about life, can. It’s brilliant, and I wish I could personally thank Cormac McCarthy for writing it. Not since Walker Percy’s novel The Moviegoer have I been this moved by a novel. Fantastic work, and I hope all get a chance to read it one day.

Random House description of The Road:

“A searing, postapocalyptic novel destined to become Cormac McCarthy’s masterpiece.

A father and his son walk alone through burned America. Nothing moves in the ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind. It is cold enough to crack stones, and when the snow falls it is gray. The sky is dark. Their destination is the coast, although they don’t know what, if anything, awaits them there. They have nothing; just a pistol to defend themselves against the lawless bands that stalk the road, the clothes they are wearing, a cart of scavenged food—and each other.

The Road is the profoundly moving story of a journey. It boldly imagines a future in which no hope remains, but in which the father and his son, “each the other’s world entire,” are sustained by love. Awesome in the totality of its vision, it is an unflinching meditation on the worst and the best that we are capable of: ultimate destructiveness, desperate tenacity, and the tenderness that keeps two people alive in the face of total devastation.”

When I hand her the keys to a shiny new Australia!

2009-11-12T17:13:00.002-05:00

I’m a big fan of Joss Whedon. I’m also a huge fan of Whedon’s online musical extravaganza known as Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. The fact that Whedon and his brothers helmed the project was enough of an incentive for me to purchase the three act internet phenomenon upon its initial release, but then you throw in the star power of Neil Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillion, and Felicia Day and I was hooked. The songs are catchy, the story is powerful during its most tender, most comical, and darkest moments, and the selflessness of all involved really shows in the overall quality of the production. The entire idea for the project was spawned from the most recent writer’s strike; so, if we try to look at it as positively as possible, there was some good that came from it all. Anyway, I’m not trying to sell Dr. Horrible as much as I’m trying to show some love for a recent fan-made prequel to Dr. Horrible called Horrible Turn. For a fan-made production it is remarkably well made, well acted, and the songs are amazing – from both a quality (lyrically, musically) and performance perspective. So, I’m going to link to it here and I hope that you will all give it a genuine chance. It’s not perfect, but perfection was never the point of Dr. Horrible; it was the purity of art and the right for anyone to express themselves no matter their status within or outside of “the biz.”

Go here to experience Horrible Turn: He wanted to change the world. But the world changed him

All in good time

2009-11-09T20:01:00.001-05:00

Sorry I’ve been kind of a downer as of late, but things were as they were and so were my posts. In any case, with a very productive day behind me, I’m feeling back to my old chipper self, air mattress stiffness and all.

The thesis progress report is as follows:
Page Count – 44
Second half rough draft – 50% complete
First half rough draft returns from committee readers – One set will be returned tomorrow, the second set is still up in the air.

The very thought of getting the rough draft of the half of my thesis is frightening. If I hated the majority of it I can only imagine how it translated to my readers. The second half is coming along more smoothly and I’m convinced that it will need far less revision work than the first half. In fact, I’m prepared to shut down for most of next week and Thanksgiving break to perform a complete overhaul on the first half of the paper. It needs a lot of work. I hope some of my reader’s suggestions will help in piecing together what needs to stay and what needs the ax. We’ll see. All in good time I guess.

I’ve been trying to get in more personal reading as of late, but since finishing Neil Gaiman’s American Gods I’m finding it a bit difficult. I’m still able to slide in a good 30+ minutes before class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I’m always left wanting, torn away from the literary world in which I was just fully submerged. I hate stringing out a good book over days, even weeks at a time. It’s like watching a good movie on a cable or network station that is required to show commercials – all of the useless narrative interruptions that only work to dilute the creative essence of the piece. Hopefully, once the “personal time” sucking fervor that is my thesis comes closer to its final act I’ll be able to sit back and enjoy a long, uninterrupted affair with a good book. Again, all in good time I guess.

Buffalo seems to want to send me out in the most positive way possible. This autumn has been, by far, milder than last year. I had already seen my first significant snow by the end of October, and it snowed at least once weekly beginning in November. This year I have yet to see my first flake of snow and it’s already the second week of November. To top it off the temperatures over the last three days have been in the mid-60s. I’ve had my apartment windows open everyday since Saturday. It’s been an absolutely beautiful weekend, and the temperatures aren’t expected to drop out of the mid-50s all this week. Seriously, I hope it stays this way as long as possible. If late autumn can just remain mild until I move in the middle of December I will be one happy camper. Once more, with feeling, all in good time I guess.

Indentions in the carpet will fade...

2009-11-07T12:25:00.000-05:00

“Who loves the sun?
Who cares that it makes plants grow.
Who cares what it does since you broke my heart.”
- The Velvet Underground “Who Loves the Sun”

The apartment is completely bare now save for an air mattress, a bucket chair, a television on a TV tray, and random small bits of a year in my life in Buffalo. The vast majority of my furniture and books are now jostling in the back of a large white work van heading to the upstate of South Carolina. There they will be separated by categorized labels like “Storage” and “House/Room” sloppily scrawled on the tops and sides of boxes in black Sharpie. Bits of my life will reside comfy and secure in the house I will move into after my stint here in Buffalo comes to an end, while the other bits will sit shivering – alone and unused, not needed – behind the locked metal door of a storage building. Our reunion will be long in the making, but will come one day in the near future – a reunion of the past with the present in the vain attempt to create a distinctly different future than what was proposed, than what was etched by the memories and the promises lying like parasites in the fabric, metal, wood, and plastic of my belongings. I wonder how large they will grow in time between now and when we meet again? I wonder if they will grow at all, or if the fluctuating temperatures on the outside will suck the life away from everything within? Will there be nothing left of what once was? Will there really be an opportunity for a new beginning? Hope lies within the hearts of those most cynical…I may still have a chance.

It was bittersweet seeing my father and my little sister yesterday. The family that keeps me grounded was here and gone as quickly as the vapid pieces of my apartment. I caught the faint lilting warmth that curled around my heart like a fat house cat on a bitter late winter’s night, and I’m trying to hold onto it as long as possible. The morning greeted me with an unusually mild early November day of clear skies and a sunny smile. And while the lovely weather is filling me with a mellowed happiness, I have to wonder how long it will be before The Velvet Underground song “Who Loves the Sun” begins to loop in my mind and cause the day to slowly slide back into the apathy that has arrested the greater part of this week.

The composition of my thesis is becoming more and more daunting with each passing day. I’m hoping for a quick execution of the rough draft by the end of the week. There’s a lot that still needs to be covered so I guess a few long nights of coffee, tea, and writing will be in order. I’ve tried my best to avoid those situations, but it has – as of now – become unavoidable. Words of encouragement would be greatly appreciated, but are in no way necessary. The days are shorter and so goes my enthusiasm to write whenever Aurora drives her chariot beneath the unreachable horizon. But it must be done, and it must be reachable; and it will be done, and it will be reached; it will, it will.

In this mess I have made...

2009-11-04T19:09:00.002-05:00

“There are rooms in this house that I don’t open anymore,
Dusty books and pictures on the floor that she will never see,
She’ll never see that part of me.
I want to be for her what I could never be for you.”
- Ben Folds “Mess”

I packed a lot of non-essentials around the apartment before sitting down to watch soccer. My apartment is beginning to look far too bare and I think said bareness is having some slightly ill effects on my overall disposition. I’m not sure why it’s making me down and out because, truthfully, I’m looking forward to getting the hell out of Buffalo. Still, an empty apartment is not a happy apartment. It’s a lonely apartment prone to fill the emptiness with chest of drawers laden with folded bits of melancholy, and closets lined with hangers draped in loneliness. This whole finishing graduate school and moving on (moving past the realm of academia, moving past the relationships that still burn in the bed beside you on a cold morning) into the real world is becoming a bit daunting. But this whole finishing graduate school and moving on alone is the most daunting of all.

I have my family and I have my friends, sure; but I’m without “you” and it’s a pain that only seems to drum itself up inside of me on days like today. Days when the clouds are low, the asphalt is wet, dark and cold, and the upturned collar of my coat does nothing but trap the chill in the air against my neck. I guess this goes miles and miles in explaining just how screwed up my emotions have been today. In a few short days I’ll be sleeping on an air mattress for a little over a month in an apartment void of any and all pieces of furniture. The emptiness will be suffocating, but I want “you” to know that I’ll be fine. The pain will subside, but I’ll make sure it never dies; I’ll make sure it settles, nearly dormant, within the deepest recesses of my memory, waiting until there’s another day when I’m missing the war that used to rage between “you” and I.

We'll Call it Christmas When the Adverts Begin...

2009-11-03T00:22:00.000-05:00

“The window’s open now and the winter settles in.
We’ll call it Christmas when the adverts begin.
I love your depression and I love your double chin.
I love most everything you bring to this offering.”
– Damien Rice “The Animals Were Gone”
I saw my first Christmas commercial today. It always seems like a momentous occasion for some reason. I tend to feel mixed about the whole deal – two days after Halloween and twenty-four days before that other holiday between Halloween and Christmas. November has always intrigued me as the month in the middle, the month of heightened anticipation before the exultant howl of shoppers during “Black Friday” and the cheerful chimes of Christmas carols waltzing on the radio. However, I’m looking forward to the feast and parades on Thanksgiving – a day of indulgence before we indulge. Anyway, I always play the above song by Damien Rice on the day I see my first Christmas commercial after Halloween. No particular reason other than it seems to fully capture the feelings I have during the moment I see that first Christmas commercial – a mixture of happiness, longing, and loneliness.

Here's my "can't think of a title" title...

2009-11-02T21:25:00.002-05:00

“Begging bums, soda pop
Yankee tickets, bottle tops
Mini skirts, magazines
Out on the street it’s a living dream…”
– Dan Auerbach “Street Walkin’”

I’ve been doing a good deal of Good Samaritan work over the past few weeks. I just recently wrapped up editing a documentary proposal for a foreign graduate student. He’s a close friend of mine, so I’ve been closely working with him on a variety of different things from scripts to research papers. He usually composes a rough draft, I scan it for small English and grammar mistakes, and then he revises it to his liking. It’s become more and more rewarding as the weeks have gone by, and I’m finding that I really enjoy helping students (especially the foreign undergrad students) with their various writing projects. I’ve recently been looking at possible job opportunities to hold me over in between the shift from my current MA program and the MLIS program that I’m looking into, and I’m thinking that adjunct work in developmental English and basic composition wouldn’t be a bad gig; especially if I could work directly with foreign students. If I have to do something it might as well be something I would enjoy and find fulfilling.

In other news, today was another long thesis write-a-thon. I knocked out around 10 more pages bringing the running total to 38 pages. It’s looking more and more likely that my thesis will max out around 50-60 pages. I was hoping to hit a slightly lower page count, but there’s nothing wrong with a long thesis. Well, there’s nothing wrong with a long and well-written thesis I should say – quality over quantity. I’m still waiting (not so patiently) for my readers to return their copies of the rough draft for the first section of my thesis. I’m hoping they get it to me within the next week or I’ll have to begin revisions without their suggestions. I’m on a tight end-of-the-semester schedule.

I really wish I had something interesting to write about, but this thesis has kept me apartment-bound a great deal of the time. I did have a bit of fun for Halloween, though. Some friends came over for a little “create-a-pizza” costume and Rocky Horror Picture Show viewing party. Unfortunately, my costume was a bit lame this year because of my dwindling financial situation. So, because of said lameness, I didn’t take any pictures. Some of my friends might have a few with me in them, so if I can dig one up I’ll try to post it later. Anyway, I dressed up as Jim from the recent Halloween episode of The Office in which Jim went to the office Halloween party as Facebook (he wrote “book” across his face). So, there was that. I was, however, Pam-less. That was a drag. But, aside from my lame costume, the rest of the evening was filled with delicious pizza and some great Rocky Horror audience participation moments. I’m going to have to definitely have one last “create-a-pizza” party before I leave Buffalo with this crazy bunch. Halloween night was a great escape from the day-to-day writing routine.

A Lover's Discourse

2009-11-01T22:01:00.002-05:00

I recently began reading Roland Barthes’ A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments for my Asian Cinema course. I’m finding it fascinating and was wondering if anyone else out there in Blog Land has read it. It seems to confirm a lot of my presuppositions surrounding the need to demystify the Westernized ideal of romance in order to achieve, or at least come as close as humanly possible to achieve, a better understanding of love (or, more importantly, a better understanding of what it means to assume the role of “the lover”) in a modern or antiquated sense. Anyway, just wanted to get some thoughts on the subject. One passage hit me in particular concerning the incessant modernized need for instant, safely sustainable gratification in a relationship that ultimately displaces the primal need for burning desire, no matter how tragic that desire may be:

“(Someone tells me: this kind of love is not viable. But how can you evaluate viability? Why is the viable a Good Thing? Why is it better to last than to burn?)” – Roland Barthes

This passage instantly brought to mind a favorite quote of mine from William Faulkner’s The Wild Palms, which speaks to this internal battle between what is socially recognized as the “Good Thing” and the desirous:

“Yes, he thought, between grief and nothing I will take grief.” – William Faulkner

The fact that desire burns deeper in the soul and, therefore, can easily attract grief instinctually leads many into the mystified realm of Westernized romance. But, in the end, it is a great deal better to burn than to necessarily last, to grieve than to love and feel nothing. Modern romance, then, is no different from antiquated romance; each is overly codified (socialized, naturalized) in its own way, waiting for the lovers to break down the codes and desire, not just simply last; and desire to grieve, not just simply love.

At least that’s what I think.

Trick or Treat!

2009-10-31T15:29:00.003-04:00

Halloween Plans:
- Horror movie marathon
- Create-a-pizza costume party
- Annual Halloween viewing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show

I hope you all have a wonderful time on All Hallows' Eve!

Ramble On

2009-10-29T19:38:00.003-04:00

"Boney's high on china white, Shorty found a punk.
Don't you know there ain't no devil? There's just God when he's drunk.
Well this stuff will probably kill you, let's do another line.
What you say you meet me down on Heartattack and Vine." - Tom Waits

The fact that, in a few short days, I will be critically analyzing the musical extravaganza that is “Once More, With Feeling” for my thesis fills me with an unimaginable amount of joy. Sorry, I couldn’t contain it any longer. I had to write it to believe it. Also I just finished watching the episode to note some specific scenes, songs, etc. to look at a bit closer during my second run through tomorrow. Who said writing a thesis can’t be fun? Whoever it was obviously didn’t choose their thesis topic wisely and was doomed to hours of stress, tension, and boredom. Seriously, just choose Buffy. It all works out grandly in the end.

I forgot to mention something kind of cool in my Tuesday post, so I’ll remedy that clumsy negation now. A paper I recently wrote about lyrical and visual narrative discourse in the film The Vertical Ray of the Sun was recommended to an online film journal by my professor. I have to do a little bit of editing and cleaning up around the edges, which will not happen until after I’ve finished the rough draft for the second section of my thesis, but it looks like I’ll actually have something published in a scholarly journal. The very idea of it blows my mind. I’ve never thought very highly of any of my academic writing, and I’ve definitely never thought about submitting something to a scholarly-based journal of any kind. So, I’m kind of excited. No matter what happens it’s a pretty big step forward. Not to mention it would look awesome on a resume.

Aside from that little nugget of joy nothing much has been going on this side of the blog. Buffalo has yet to see its first snow of the cold season, which is pretty awesome. I think there’s a chance next week around Wednesday or Thursday, so I’m kind of anxiously excited about that. Like I’ve said before, I love the first snow as long as it comes and goes quickly. It’s the late winter lingering snow that I could do without. The seemingly everlasting blanket of white tends to slowly gnaw at my soul; although, I’m sure the bitter cold has a lot to do with that feeling as well. Anyway, I’ll be leaving before the harshest months of the Buffalo winter hits. So, here’s hoping for a mild and calm beginning to the Buffalo snow season. Actually, if I could just have a repeat of last year’s November and early December that would be fantastic. Just saying.

I’m, finally, almost finished with a book I’ve been reading off and on since the semester began. It’s Neil Gaiman’s novel American Gods, and I highly recommend you all give it a go. Probably my favorite of all his novels I’ve read so far. It’s a great look at how modern society embodies the landscape of religion, and just how blurred the lines of worship, idolatry, and faith have become during the current technological age. I’d give it a 4 out of 5.

Progress Report

2009-10-28T12:50:00.002-04:00

“Take this longing from my tongue. All the useless things my hands have done. Let me see your beauty broken down. Like you would do, for the one you love.” – Leonard Cohen

The morning began like most. I woke up, shuffled through the morning routine, brewed a pot of coffee, and then sat down to drink said coffee and listen to some music. As you can tell from the passage above, the music of choice this fine, rainy morn was Leonard Cohen.

I’m writing this post earlier than I do most posts. I tend to wait until late in the day when I can jot down all of the day’s goings on, but I felt more like jotting down everything that cycled through my mind before I fell asleep last night.

I now how a strong grasp on the structure and overall narrative thematics for the novel I’m hoping to start on sooner than later. I was hoping to catch NaNoWriMo fever next month, but that’s looking like a big no go at this point. My thesis has taken full control over any and all writing time. So, there is no way that I could possibly try to work in the daily NaNoWriMo requirements. It’s kind of a bummer, actually. I was really looking forward to participating this year. Oh well, maybe next year. Regardless, I will be starting on my novel not long after my thesis is completed. The story waiting to be told is writhing in my brain, begging to be put into words. I will not ignore its calling for very long.

In other news, my thesis is coming along nicely. I completed the rough draft for the first section (27 pages) a couple days ago and submitted it to my thesis committee readers yesterday. I’m nearly finished with my research, and am planning on starting the rough draft for the second (and final) section Friday, Sunday at the latest. I’m hoping to have the second section rough draft completed by the second week of November so I can start on revisions before and during the Thanksgiving holiday break. That way I should have a finalized draft (which should equal somewhere around 50-60 pages) by the first week of December to submit to my readers. Then begins the waiting game to see if I pass or fail. Good stressful times.

Anyway, that’s the scoop so far. Just thought I’d post a bit of an update. I hope all is well with everyone else.

Everybody Wants to be a Cat!

2009-10-24T13:57:00.004-04:00

I'm not getting much writing done today. This is why.

I like 'em saucy...

2009-10-23T20:51:00.004-04:00

That's right. Come to Jonathan, you saucy little minxes.

P.S. I understand fully if no one else finds this the slightest bit funny. I'm a big dork. Simply amusing myself here. Apologies all around.

P.S.S. But if you all should find the need to leave me saucy comments, I wouldn't protest. Just saying. You know...yeah, apologies all around.

Cooking = Happy Time

2009-10-20T19:50:00.001-04:00

One of the things I am most proud of is my newfound love for the culinary arts. I can cook, people! Whodda thunk it? Now, I’m no Wolfgang Puck or anything but I’ve become fairly adept with the once dusty tools of my kitchen. I’m still not too dapper when it comes to deserts or baking, but I’m working on it. I can make some mean banana pancakes and banana bread, though. Unfortunately, most of my friends aren’t all that helpful unless what you’re cooking involves some part of an opulently sized farm animal and a grill. It amazes them that I have moved on to cooking things on the stove and, Thor forbid, the oven. Also, it’s been hard to convince many of my female friends that I have changed my ways within the once unfriendly confines of the kitchen. I guess I can’t blame them. My earlier forays into cooking mostly resulted in chicken nugget sized homemade biscuits that could be used for a house’s foundation. But, that has all changed I swear. I’m also prone to dance while cooking, which I have been told is rather hilarious. Slow dancing while the food simmers, however, is just pleasant.

Anyway, a few dishes I have mastered and added a bit of the “Jonathan” touch to are as follows:

Homemade Southern-style Chili (with and extra spicy kick)
Hot wings with my own special blend of hot sauces (no Duffs, but they’re not bad)
Chipotle Barbeque Chicken (fall off the bone…it’s fantastic)
Lasagna (nothing fancy but I’ve been told it’s good)
Meatloaf (I spice this up a little as well when cooking for myself, adds a lot I think)
Various flavors of Chicken Fingers both fried and grilled
Various soups
Various side dishes
Banana Pancakes and Bread
Etc.

I was originally very proud of my culinary exploits until my friend Corey flew here for a visit last winter and complained that all I knew how to cook was “man food.” So, I whipped up a recipe for Oven baked Salmon with a special herb infused tomato sauce and coupled that with a house salad, various kinds of dressing, garlic bread, and roasted halved red potatoes sprinkled with olive oil and basil. Paired that with a bottle of Chardonnay and gave her an evening she has yet to forget. In fact, the last time I went back home she insisted on me cooking it for her and some friends on multiple occasions. I’m not one to usually toot my own horn, but this definitely called for a few toots. Also, I just wanted to publicly rub it in Corey’s face and remind her that after eating that dinner she said, “Damn, you cook better than I do.” Which was quite the compliment since I basically lived off her cooking for a while. Anyway, toot toot it is.

Farewell Buffalo #4: Duffs Buffalo Wings

2009-10-18T18:40:00.004-04:00

I’m a lover of all things pizza and hot wings. In fact, if it was possible for me to live on nothing but pizza and hot wings for the rest of my adult life, by golly I would. I won’t because my stomach would howl in pain and my bowels would clog faster than an embarrassed sexually active teenage boy’s plumbing (remember kids, no flushy the pouchy). But, in theory, I would be more than willing to have a lifelong all you can eat hot wings chowfest.

While I was never overly excited about my move to Buffalo, NY for graduate school, the prospect of living and eating in the birthplace of Buffalo Wings sparked a match of excitement (and heartburn) in my chest. And, since moving here last summer, I have not shirked on my hot wing eating duties. I’ve probably eaten at just about every hot wing joint in the greater Buffalo area. I immediately made my way downtown to eat at The Anchor Bar, which is where God said, “Let there be chicken wings and drummettes rolled around in flamey-hot saucey goodness”…and so it was. And so I went and I ate. And it was good. And my stomach garbled in delight. And on the eve of that day, and the majority of the morn of the next, I rested. But I felt a little dissatisfied. The wings were good, but not the mind-blowing-tastegasm I was expecting.

I would make my rounds from there. I visited a lot of local pizza joints, which were also well known for their “Famous Buffalo Wings.” They were all OK, but when I found myself thinking, “Man, Wild Wings back home is better than this,” I decided that the journey for the best of the best in Buffalo had to continue. Then I found Duffs.

Seriously, the best hot wings I have ever eaten. They’re like eating the best bits of heaven and hell together in one blasphemously holy orgasm for the taste buds. I’ve eaten at Duffs more times than I would actually like to admit. Either way, I can safely say that I have eaten very well during my time in Buffalo. I’m planning on attacking a few more orders before bid Buffalo adieu in December. While there are quite a few things I will truly miss about Buffalo, in terms of food, Duffs hot wings will be what I miss most. Oh, and the Duffs girls.

Come Sail With Me, Let's Sail Away...

2009-10-18T17:28:00.001-04:00

I have a great love of the sea that stretches back to early childhood. When I was young, around 5-ish, my family lived in Sumter, SC which put us at only around 1hr. 30min. to 2hr. from the coast of South Carolina. So, needless to say but I’m gonna anyway, we made quite a few trips down to the coast. I was a little water bug as a kid, so me and the ocean went together like peanut butter and jelly (unless you’re like me and am not a big fan of jelly; in that case the ocean and I went together like American Idol and no talent). My first foray into swimming was completely underwater, and I would never learn to properly swim along the surface until I was a teenager. I loved the feeling of being completely submerged. I loved the feeling I got when I would dive deep down, the pressure popping my ears, the fish-like feeling of contorting my body in order to slink and slither through the water like a bird through the air. It felt natural to me like I was meant to be in the water.

As I grew older (it could be argued whether I matured also, but that’s a debate for another post) my connections to the ocean, naturally, became more romantic. I became obsessed with moonlight walks along the shore, sitting on the beach for hours as dusk shifted into twilight and twilight shifted into night. I loved watching the silver vertical ray of the full moon float and bend along the undulating black void of the ocean’s surface like a snake beneath the white-capped reflection of the night sky. I met girlfriends and summer flings during those late evenings along the coast and I lost just as many. My first serious kiss took place beneath the Surfside pier on just such a night. I could go on and on and on.

I’m still as in love with the ocean and coastal life now as I was during my adolescent years. I still look forward to any and every chance I get to visit the South Carolina coast. Everything old still feels new and everything new feels familiar. Yet, there is one thing that I have wanted to do for a long time but have never had the time or money to accomplish: to sail for days on the ocean. It’s a dream of mine that I hope to have come true before the story of my life reaches its final line. But, until that time, I’ll live vicariously through lucky individuals like Aussie teenager, Jessica Watson. This brave young woman ventured off on one of the greatest human adventures this morning: to sail around the world non-stop and unassisted. You can follow her progress through her website and her blog where she will be making regular updates throughout her journey. Among all of the “Balloon Boy’s” and other negative media coverage out there, I feel like this is a truly positive and inspirational story to follow. Someone living the dream and proving that the dream can be attained in the right way – through passion and hard work, not through ridiculous attention whoring stunts.

Get Down with the Sickness

2009-10-15T15:55:00.001-04:00

My head feels like a balloon. It feels like a big Benadryl balloon, to be exact, thanks to my inflated sinuses and “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” head trip all these decongestants have put me on. It seems like this time of the year is when my sinuses decide to rage against the ma(n)chine. Last year around this time I was sitting in a doctor’s office waiting to get a shot to clear out the mucusy extremists holed up in my nasal cavities. That infection was severe enough to down me for a little over a week and caused my jaw to nearly lockup. It was so painful that I couldn’t eat for a couple days. I just sat around, reluctantly swallowed the little bit of liquid I could, and relied heavily on the healing powers of a snuggly-get-well-soon kitty.

Thankfully, this year’s pay-per-view match-up with my sinuses has been a bit calmer. No lock jaw or shot this year, no sir, just a three-day headache, a migraine and watery-bloodshot eyes Tuesday night, and a sour stomach to pass the long days away. Again, I’m just left to rely heavily on the healing powers of a snuggly-get-well-soon kitty and regular doses of Excedrin and Benadryl. However, even with the magic carpet ride and snuggly kitty, days like these tend to make me a little homesick and tired of being alone. What’s the fun in having to cook your own comfort soup and rub your own temples? It’s no fun at all. I miss the feel of a warm gentle hand and softly spoken words of affection. I miss the extra snuggle beneath the blanket in the morning and before the medication ships me off the la-la land at night. What I don’t miss is the seemingly never-ending case of congestion face and body chills. Blah, I need another dose of snuggle-bug-kitty and Benadryl. A sight of the snow that’s supposed to fall this evening wouldn’t hurt either – the first snow of the fall/winter is always special and helpful in lifting the ole spirits. Hell, spirits are wonderful for lifting the ole spirits. Where is that bottle of Jack Daniel’s anyway? I’m in need of a toddy.

Aside from all of the negatives listed above, this large stint of physical downtime has done wonders for my thesis research; although, that research has mainly been in the form of daylong marathons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Now before you say, “Come on! That’s not research!” I would like to kindly remind you that my thesis is centered on BtVS – all seven seasons to be exact. So, the quicker I’m able to rap up watching and dissecting the various uses of music-based establishments and semantic representations of sound, and how each affects issues of communal connectivity and disconnectivity between characters and spectators the better. I’m nearly on season five, which means I will have plowed through four seasons in half a month. Fantastic. You know, sometimes, you just have to be down with the sickness.

Over There! Over There!

2009-10-11T10:59:00.005-04:00

After an abysmal weekend/week of sports for yours truly, the beloved "cardiac kids" of national team soccer, the US Men's National Team, clinched a spot in the 2010 World Cup in South Africa last night with an amazing 3-2 win over Honduras. I couldn't be prouder of the Yanks and I'm looking forward to donning my USMNT jersey come next summer and cheering the boys on to victory. Congrats, Yanks! Now let's get 'em over there!

Down Once More...

2009-10-09T19:51:00.002-04:00

The Phantom of the Opera was the reason I became interested in musical theatre, at least obsessively interested. Before POTO came along I enjoyed the smattering of Disney produced made for kiddies musicals. Once I blossomed into a more mature (ha!) young lad I branched out, of course, into the raunchy and obscene – The Rocky Horror Picture Show in particular, which led to my fond introduction to Reefer Madness and The Threepenny Opera. Also, I have to give big props to the movie version of Little Shop of Horrors. I saw that at a rather young age, before my teenage years I know. I can remember listening to a recorded copy of the soundtrack on cassette at night when I was supposed to be sleeping. As a direct effect of that obsession I wanted to play the part of Seymour for the better of my adolescent years, which lent itself wonderfully in terms of the close friendships I forged with most of the drama kids during high school. It also led to me breaking out of my shell for a semester and taking a drama course, one of the things I regret not sticking with to this day. Anyway, I digress.

Throughout my high school years my friends and I would do the "Time Warp" before our classes. I liked the attention even though some of it wasn’t so positive. My ability to break out, do a little dance, and even sing/act “Sweet Transvestite” for those who cared to listen, in the long run, got me through what should have been a much more difficult three years. Graduating early and being the only “freshman” among a class entirely composed of sophomores could have been quite dreadful. But my affection for musicals created friendships that probably never would have taken flight. I became close to one girl based solely on my love for Tim Curry; she introduced to me his role of Rooster in Annie. She was a bang up gal; I sometimes wonder what happened to her.

Anyway, once I broke out of my adolescent need to be associated with all things shocking (and once I was able to come face to face with the wonders of internet searches) I was dumped headlong into the deep end of musical theatre, my floaties being the double-disc original cast recording of The Phantom of the Opera. The story enthralled me, broke my young and still fully optimistic heart, and made my imagination soar with delight. Who would have ever thought something this magnificent could exist? I can remember the Christmas when I received my copy of the OCR. My family met at my older sister’s house. During the drive back home I listened to the album continuously on my portable cd player. It wasn’t long after that fateful Christmas day when POTO came to The Peace Center in Greenville, SC. It was a dream come true to get to attend that first viewing. It was also a birthday gift. The show I saw was the matinee on the day after my birthday, but I still say that my birthday lasted two days that year. My emotions were overwhelming throughout the entire performance and, yes, I cried as the show came to an end (Brad Little was The Phantom, btw, and put on an amazing performance). My dream to see it on Broadway came true during the summer of 2005 when I visited NYC for a 4-day weekend with my sisters.

To make this long story slightly longer, I’m saying all of this to preface the news of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s sequel to POTO called Love Never Dies, which will hit the stage next year. The official announcement party was held last night and it contained a preview of The Phantom’s opening song of the show. I know it’s hard to fully appreciate a song taken completely out of context and not staged as it would be during the show, but it lacked a lot of the power (mostly lyrically) I’m accustomed to when it comes to POTO. I’m holding out hope, but it feels like this is setting up to be an epic fail. My love for POTO will, of course, cause me to give it a listen and hopefully give me the opportunity to witness it first hand. But, regardless of what happens, my love for POTO will never falter. There will always be the early days of our courtship and the resulting slow, smoldering relationship that has ensued ever since.

If you care to witness the official announcement party you can find the archived video, and other tidbits about Love Never Dies, here: Love Never Dies

Your obedient servant,
The Phantom

Progress

2009-10-07T18:42:00.000-04:00

I have been super busy this week. Every hour of every day has been filled with something to do with my thesis be it either research or writing. The thing is it actually feels like I’m getting somewhere. For a while there it felt like the end of the semester was going to come before half of my thesis (and the research for that matter) would be anywhere near finished. But, as I sit here today, the introduction is finally a wrap (at least in my mind, the rest of my committee still has to weigh in with their thoughts) and the research for the analytical section of the thesis is predominately done. I still have a few more episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer to watch, and then I need to go back and breakdown a few scenes but that part won’t take more than a day. I’m actually beginning to enjoy the process a bit now. I thought I might once I got past the introduction (I suck at introductions) and started on the meat of the analysis. I love when I get to sit down and pick apart individual scenes; there’s something euphoric about it, at least for me. It’s like a drug, and I get a small high every time I discover something new (especially when it is a minute detail) that lends itself to my overall argument. I really am a nerd.

Oh well, I’m thinking that my love for all things referential (whether media or literature based) is beginning to tilt my hand toward going for an MLIS degree once I finish here in Buffalo. I have a lot of fond memories of time spent at local public libraries (and even school libraries to a certain extent) that it just feels right for me to attempt to work in one for the rest of my adult life. Not to mention that I just need to get a job already and get on with my life. I’ve spent way too much time in academia. If for no other reason it’s time for a breather, at least for my sanity’s sake. So, in the end, this whole process is turning into a wonderful learning experience that is helping shape a future I thought would remain terribly Picasso.

Aside from the thesis work (and running back and forth from apartment to campus) life has been fairly low-key, and I must admit that I like it. I really am enjoying myself more this semester, a goal I had set out to achieve upon my return to Buffalo after summer break. I’m starting to see the city in a slightly different light. It’s still dreadfully gray and moody, still on the fringes of a place that I would want to live on a regular basis. But I’m beginning to see the gems amongst the cracked cement and broken down roads of a city that is struggling to stay afloat. I’m experiencing new wonders, both big and small, and wondering if I will ever venture this way again in the future to see how it has all changed, hopefully, for the better. I believe it will. The more time I spend in the local bars around the people that really matter to the survival of a city like this, the more I believe it will all even out in the end. Every now and then the clouds break and the sun peaks through; it’s then that I take a drive in my car and witness all that was once hard to find.

Farewell Buffalo Series #3 - The Center for the Arts

2009-10-02T12:34:00.002-04:00

This will be the last “Farewell Buffalo” about the UB North Campus. That’s The Center for the Arts pictured above. It’s the building where the majority of my classes were held; most of them based in media studies but a few in English as well. All of my classes, except for one that took place in a small screening room on the second floor, in the CFA building took place in the main screening room on the bottom floor. It’s basically a normal sized theater room with around 20+ rows of low backed theater chairs with hinged seats. There’s a decent sized stage that stretches across the front of the room, probably around 3-4 feet high and around 20-25 feet wide. The movie screen stretches from the floor of the stage all the way to the ceiling. It’s not a particularly large movie screen, but it gets the job done. I’ve spent more time in that room than I probably care to recall – sitting in the dark with a small pen-light, jotting down notes about various scenes that I planned to write about for an essay or response paper. And while there were moments of complete boredom while listening to professors drone on and on through the podium microphone on the stage, there were also days when my eyes were opened to new worlds of cinema that I probably never would have experienced otherwise. I think the films and directors that have had the biggest influence on me during my time here at UB are as follows:

Director – Tran Anh Hung: The Scent of Green Papaya, Cyclo, and The Vertical Ray of the Sun.

Director – Jia Zhangke: Platform, Unknown Pleasures, and The World

Director – Hirokazu Koreeda: Maborosi, After Life, and Nobody Knows

Director – Takeshi Kitano: A Scene at the Sea, and Dolls

I haven't had the chance to enjoy a lot of shows (concerts, Broadway, etc.) at the CFA. It seemed like every time I was either leaving Buffalo for Greenville, or vice versa, all the shows I really wanted to attend were taking place in the city I was leaving. As long as the money works out this semester I should, finally, have the chance to see Avenue Q either October 13^th or 14^th. I did get to see comedian Kristen Schaal (best known from her time on The Daily Show and as Mel the overly obsessed fan on Flight of the Conchords) at the beginning of September. The show was fantastic, and afterwards I tried to slide around to the back of the theater to meet her but was met by the quintessential security guard – a big, buff, bald, and beady-eyed guy standing in front of the stage door with his arms crossed with a look on his face that begged someone to call him Tiny or Teddy Bear. I knew of another way, through a back hall around the corner from the first stage door, that led to a second stage door; so, I tried to put on my best “just browsing” face, walked toward the corner (which was about 5 feet away from Fluffy), and just as I was about to make a run for it I heard, “If you take one more step I’ll shove that Sharpie of yours so far up your anus you’ll choke on it.” Needless to say, I quickly turned around; but instead of running away like a frightened rabbit I walked over to Beefcake, looked him straight in the eyes and asked, “Anus? Seriously? I’d expect you to be a bit more forceful and say ass.” Now, I’ll be honest; I had every expectation of either being threatened (after which I had every intention of running away like said frightened rabbit) or possibly hit, but instead Andre the Giant simply smirked and said, “My momma never liked cursing.” I actually struck up a conversation with the guy after that. Turned out his name was Howie and he lived in the Buffalo area and had been contracted for the night to guard that door. We ended up having a few beers together at one of the local bars over the next few weeks – really great guy.

October

2009-10-01T23:15:00.000-04:00

This post will focus mainly on the month of October and some of the, somewhat, strange routines I have during this particular month. It’s a favorite month of mine, so today was a particularly good day even though I had class and also had to fork over $775 worth of rent. While I’m not especially thrilled with the drastic shift in the seasons that takes place here in Buffalo, it’s still that time of the year that brings a rare smile to my face.

The changing of the leaves takes on a special meaning for me. It becomes a lyrical Théâtre Optique of Nature’s slow descent into a blanketed hibernation, shaking off the anxiety of a year nearly gone and leaving bare the chance for a reconciliation of all things done wrong, for a remembrance of all things done right, and for a slow and steady supposition of all things yet to come. The chill of the air is just cold enough to remind you how alive you become when acquainted with the warmth of a smile; of a hand; of a pair of lips; of a pair of eyes; of the skin of an affair long gone, freshly plucked, deemed eternal. It’s during this season of the fall when the cynical romantics truly rise, desperate for an unfeigned heat amongst the generated, mechanical, cold, artificial heat of the masses. It’s every first of October when I’m able to roll out of bed and take a deep breath that slides into the depths of my lungs, filling them to the brim with a hunger for something new within the ashes of the old. This is when I feel most optimistic, which more times than not has backfired on me in years past; but, I refuse to let those lost moments, those transient endearments, to cross over into the layered foliage of another autumn. I expect to lay down a fresh set of leaves, and plan to travel upon them until the snow conceals my way.

I adore October for its fun factor, or at least what I see as its fun factor. I try to make it as enjoyable as possible. I’ve had a few running traditions now for the past 4-5 years that I began during my time as an undergraduate student at Clemson University. I make it a point to watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown whenever it’s on TV, I listen to Meat Loaf’s debut album Bat Out of Hell every first of October, I build up to Halloween by watching horror movies all month, I watch those horror movies within pre-determined themed weeks (this year’s themes are: classic horror/monster movies, zombie/infection movies, slasher movies, Halloween cartoons), I watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show every Halloween night, eat at least one bag of candy corn, and have at least one make-your-own pizza night with friends (costumes optional).

It’s not much but it makes every October special and unique in its own way. A few aspects of last October didn’t go quite as planned, but I’m going to make sure that this month (my last October in Buffalo) will be as memorable as all of the Octobers I enjoyed in Clemson.

Happy 1st of October, everyone.

Annotated Version of the Roman Polanski Petition

2009-09-30T17:30:00.001-04:00

Note: All sections in italics are of my own composition.

We have learned the astonishing (Really? Astonished like “OMG?!” or “WTF?!" Mine was the latter, btw) news of Roman Polanski's arrest by the Swiss police on September 26th, upon arrival in Zurich (Switzerland) (← You don’t need the parentheses here, you bunch of filmtacular jackasses) while on his way to a film festival where he was due to receive an award for his career in filmmaking.

His arrest follows an American arrest warrant dating from 1978 against the filmmaker, in a case of morals (Wait, let’s be specific here shall we: in a case of “inebriating, drugging, raping, sodomizing a 13 year-old girl” morals).

Filmmakers in France, in Europe, in the United States and around the world are dismayed by this decision. It seems inadmissible to them that an international cultural event, paying homage to one of the greatest contemporary filmmakers, is used by the police to apprehend him (First of all, you’re using the passive voice here, which is a big no-no. Come on, you’re trying to be forceful and argumentative. This sentence should say, “It seems inadmissible to the Academy of Sex Offenders that the police apprehended the King of Sleaze during an international event paying homage to one of the greatest contemporary douchebags”).

By their extraterritorial nature (This is actually, technically, not true but we’ll let you all believe it if it eases the conscience), film festivals the world over have always permitted works to be shown and for filmmakers to present them freely and safely, even when certain States opposed this.

The arrest of Roman Polanski in a neutral (The neutrality of Switzerland has nothing to do with your argument, seeing as Switzerland has had numerous extradition deals with countries it currently holds treaties with; but, again, if it eases the conscience) country, where he (arrogantly) assumed (Well we all know what happens when one assumes) he could travel without hindrance, undermines this tradition: it opens the way for actions of which no-one can know the effects (What are you people, the mob? Are you going to make the world an offer it can’t refuse? Will the arrest of a convicted fugitive who plead guilty to all charges really undermine the greater creative film community? Unless you’re all a bunch of convicted pedophiles on the run, then no it will not).

Roman Polanski is a French citizen, a renown and international artist (fugitive) now facing extradition. This extradition, if it takes place, will be heavy in consequences and will take away his freedom (Take away his freedom? You mean the 31 years of freedom that he gave himself by becoming a fugitive. Oh, well that’s just terrible).

Filmmakers, actors, producers and technicians – everyone (Let’s not over-exaggerate here, only everyone in France and a minority of Libertines elsewhere) involved in international filmmaking - want him to know that he has their support and friendship (and future underage relatives).

On September 16th, 2009, Mr. Charles Rivkin, the US Ambassador to France, received French artists and intellectuals at the embassy. He presented to them the new Minister Counselor for Public Affairs at the embassy, Ms Judith Baroody. In perfect (Really, does her fluency in French really make a difference here?) French she lauded the Franco-American friendship and recommended the development of cultural relations between our two countries.

If only in the name of this friendship between our two countries, we demand (You know, friends do not demand, they share; and I think we can all agree that sharing Mr. Polanski would be a bang up option here) the immediate release of Roman Polanski.

Source for the petition: Indie Wire

Disappointment; or, A Film Student's Response to the Recent Free Polanski Petition

2009-09-29T17:56:00.000-04:00

I’m not shocked by the recent disgusting behavior of many individuals within the film industry. The fact that I can say that about these same individuals who are vehemently demanding the respect and release of a convicted – and admitted – rapist shows a lot about the “ultra-liberal” and misogynistic atmosphere that has come to completely shroud the film industry.

I consider myself to be fairly liberal in my ideology. I’m pro-choice and believe in the current push for healthcare reform (particularly the push for a public option), which in many realms of political thinking would label me a card-carrying democrat. However, I see myself more as a critically minded moderate if anything. I despise the far wing crackpots on both sides of the aisle, because polarization will get nothing productive done in any sphere of thinking whether political or otherwise. Therefore, I sit here in front of my computer boiling at the fact that so many people (and certain people whom I believed to be incredibly intelligent) could be so passionate toward something so disturbing – the violent, drug-induced rape of a 13-year-old girl. How can the more than 100 reported directors, writers, and producers honestly feel sympathy for such a man?

I’m left to wonder, in a clichéd way, how I would feel if that 13 year-old girl happened to my own daughter. I am then left to wonder how can any of those 100+ who signed the petition demanding the freedom of Roman Polanski honestly say that they would still sign their name if that girl had been their daughter, or relative, or sibling, or close friend. I would hope that they would recant their position. I would hope that the absurd feeling these individuals perceive as an attack on their community would reveal itself to them as, just that, an absurdity. I would hope that this group of intelligent, brilliant artists would see Polanski for what he really is: a fugitive from the law and a rapist. Unfortunately, it is always easiest to hold extreme stances on various subjects when completely disconnected in any personal way. But sometimes you have to look through the smokescreen of artistic awe and influence to see the real man. I’m not going to lie and say that I hate Polanski’s films because I don’t. In fact, Chinatown is probably one of my all time favorites. He’s a brilliant filmmaker; there’s no denying that. But the man is reprehensibly perverse in a manner that is, to me at least, utterly unforgivable.

As I scanned the list of film industry supporters I was disappointed more than I had hoped to be by the names I came across. Some didn’t surprise (Woody Allen who I despise as a filmmaker and a human being anyway), but some actually broke my heart – one in particular being Darren Aronofsky. A lot of my current philosophy on film art in contemporary culture comes from my individual critiques and close analyses of Aronofsky’s four films. The questions of one’s place (particularly the religiously confused, which I was at the time of introduction to his films) within the greater realm of a sometimes physical and psychologically brutal reality touched me in ways not many films have done. I was introduced to his films during a pivotal point in my life when more than just my sanity seemed to be hanging by a thin thread. Aronofsky’s films (alongside the novels of Walker Percy, who I will hold in much higher regards now) opened a pathway for me philosophically in my early twenties when making it to thirty seemed like a dead-end possibility. I’m not sure if I’ll stop watching his films from this point on, but the possibility is high. Either way, it’s going to be difficult. Again, I would love to see a formal recanting of his current position but I know better than to expect that to ever happen. I guess I can only hope – just as I can only hope that the oftentimes awe inspiring effects of star power will not win out in this instance and Roman Polanski will finally get what has been coming to him for the past thirty-one years.

You can view the names of those who have signed the petition here: The Wrap

Today's Fortune Cookie Saying...in bed

2009-09-27T16:11:00.003-04:00

"Everyone is fun you just have to find their fun side [in bed]."

Sorry, but I'm easily amused.

This Week in Entertainment Recap

2009-09-26T22:56:00.002-04:00

(Note: While I make every attempt to keep spoilers out of my comments, I make no promises that a few will not creep in from time to time; therefore, you have been warned. Proceed with caution.)

Glee – “Preggers”

This was, in my opinion, the best episode of Glee so far this season. It felt like the show finally got its feet firmly beneath it in terms of narrative and filmic technique. The first three episodes felt a bit disjointed to me at times when waffling between multiple narratives at play, when jumping in and out of musical numbers, and when balancing between the comedic and the dramatic. It felt like in this episode all of these elements melded together beautifully to show just how powerful and put together Glee can be when hitting on all cylinders. As always there were too many fantastic quotes to choose a favorite. Also, I have only seen this episode once so far and have not had a chance to note quotes like I usually do the second time through. When I do I may come back and edit this post, but it’s unlikely. Anyway, if you’ve been on the fence about Glee to this point I would urge you to watch this episode. It should sway you the “yea(y)” side. Still not convinced? How does Kristin Chenoweth in next week's episode sound? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Fringe – “Night of Desirable Objects”

A great stand-alone episode, and would probably rate pretty high on my list of best stand-alone episodes for the show. As usual, the chemistry between Walter and Peter Bishop created the perfect melting pot for some amazing one-liners and awkward situations. Also I thought the “fishing moment” between Walter and Peter at the end was a beautifully structured and acted scene between John Noble and Joshua Jackson. And can I say that I love the more pro-active Peter this season. As a huge fan of the character I really love seeing more drive from him. Can’t wait to see where that leads, and I also can’t wait to see what other interesting “sensual alterations” Olivia may experience from her trip to the other side.

Flash Forward – “No More Good Days”

Great, great series premiere. You could definitely feel the Lost and David Goyer/Batman influences throughout. Joseph Fiennes has an epic DOOM face (as my sister so eloquently put it) that is perfect for this type of show and the rest of the actors (too many to go through individually) were fantastic as well. I can’t wait for the introduction of Dominic Monaghan’s character later on, and I geeked out big time when Jack Davenport finally came on the scene near the end of the episode. There were a few minor technical issues I had with the episode, but the awesomeness of the rest of the show helped me forget about that rather quickly. Themes of faith, fate, and free will ran rampant just within this opening episode and I can only imagine will be delved into a bit deeper as the season wears on. This is a show I’m definitely looking forward to following. While Fringe has become my substitute for the upcoming loss of Lost, Flash Forward could easily join the ranks of my “must-see-TV” list.

Dollhouse – “Vows”

While a bit of a let down to some (at least that seems the case based on the abysmal ratings), I still have a lot of faith in this show. The problem is, I have a lot of faith in this show based on an unaired episode that the majority of casual viewers will never see. The beauty, tragedy, and hope within the face of an apocalypse that is “Epitaph One” (the unaired 13th episode of season one) was largely present within the individual character narratives of this episode – yes, even within the Echo active segment, though it seems many have argued otherwise. The premiere, overall, was great with a few shaky moments. I thought Amy Acker soared in her portrayal as the slowly unraveling Dr. Saunders/Whiskey, and the pairing of her with an equally emotionally distraught Topher (played perfectly by Fran Kranz) was a brilliant move dramatically. It seems as if this season will plunge headfirst into the theme of psychological fragility and the darkness one falls into once that fragility (Edenic innocence) is shattered. While last season established the walls of Paradise, this season is obviously gearing up for the inevitable fall and questioning whether or not such a fall is actually a bad thing. It reminds me of a conversation between Paul Ballard and Alpha from season one’s episode “Briar Rose” as they were infiltrating the Dollhouse:

Alpha: “They told me this was gonna be the new Eden.”
Paul: “Eden wasn’t a prison.”
Alpha: “What, are you kidding me? The apples were monitored!”

What a great week of TV! I still have to watch the second episode of The Office. I’m planning on attacking that sometime tomorrow, hopefully. I hope everyone else had a wonderful viewing experience this week, and hopefully it will continue for weeks to come.

"Just when you thought things couldn't get any weirder..."

2009-09-19T18:51:00.005-04:00

With the looming demise of Lost next year, I admit I was afraid (“he was petrified!”). What was going to take the place of a show that has ruled my life over the last five years (as of next Tuesday)? Could anything possibly take the place of Lost? I held out hope that something new would come along to completely steal my TV obsessed heart. Most recently I hoped the replacement would be Joss Whedon’s latest installment Dollhouse, but after a rather lackluster first season (that ended, albeit, with one helluva bang) that is still to be determined. My heart sank a great deal when the void that was beginning to grow within me failed to be filled even slightly by Dollhouse. I’m still holding out hope for the second season (which has a lot of promise based on the cast alone), but I’m trying to be realistic. However, where Dollhouse failed another show stepped in and lifted my slumping chin from my chest. That show is Fringe.

I have fallen head over heels for this show, and it figures the show that seems to be slowly filling my Lost shaped void is another vehicle from the brilliant J.J. Abrams. A close community of characters; the use of place as character; and the exhaustive use of codes, visual/aural patterns, and extensive/plausible/all around fun scientific mythology is all there. The first season had its rocky moments and the recent second season premiere left me feeling a bit split, but as always by the end of the first season and by the end of the second season premiere I am left with a longing for all that is still to come within this amazing new universe.

So, since I’m using this blog to fanboy a bit, I’m going to create a list of my favorite Fringe communities (websites, podcasts, etc.) that I enjoy on a weekly basis during (and sometimes after) the season. If you’re already a fan, a new fan, or someone on the fence I hope this list will be of some value to one or all of you:

1) Fringe Television.com: A great website with up-to-date news on all things Fringe. I follow them through Google so that I can get all of their updates sent to me through Google Reader, which is very convenient aspect of this site.

2) Fringemunks: This is basically the Chipmunks doing “Weird Al”-esque parody recaps of every Fringe episode. It’s hilarious, and a ton of fun to listen to during Fringe downtime or when you just need a quick refresher.

3) The Fringe Podcast: This is a great weekly (during the season at least) podcast helmed by 4 very good Fringe-minded folk: Courtney, Jason, Darrell, and Clint. This podcast has a lot of great segments, some fun audience participation, and can also be seen live through UStream during recording days (which this season is every Sunday at 4pm).

4) Fringepedia: An amazing wikipedia-like database for everything Fringe. If you have a question about any aspect of the Fringe narrative, most likely the answer (if there is one) can be found here. It’s also a completely spoiler free zone, which is nice for fans like myself that like to experience all the nuances of the show as they happen.

There you go. I didn’t include the official website on Fox because, well, that one is kind of obvious. Here’s to all things weird, and happy pattern hunting!

Babe the Bwig Bwue Bull

2009-09-17T17:17:00.003-04:00

For the second “Farewell Buffalo” installment I’m sticking to the UB North Campus. The above is a statuesque figure that I have passed by everyday of classes since I first arrived to the hallowed land of Buffalo last summer. I’m not sure if he actually has a name (and it is a he, btw; I checked), but I have come to calling him Babe the Bronze Buffalo. Actually, there’s a small story behind that.

One day I was sitting on the corner of one of the multiple tree-surrounding cement benches in the courtyard in front of the Center of the Arts building, watching various people congregate around the bronze buffalo and take pictures with it. This seems to happen everyday. It never fails that you will see at least one person either feeling up (with their hands or their eyes) the bronze buffalo or having their picture taken. My favorite bronze buffalo scene that day involved a father with his 3-year-old daughter. The tall, 6-foot+ father walked hand-in-hand with his tiny daughter, who toddled quickly on the tips of her toes beside him, left arm stretched high to its limit while grasped in her father’s large hand, a sippy-cup rocking to the rhythm of her footsteps in her other. I watched them walk around the bronze buffalo for a while before turning my attention back to the book I was reading at the time. I had forgotten about them until I heard the tiny, fast-paced patter of little feet on the sidewalk coming toward me. I looked up in time to see a bright, smiling face framed by thin, long blonde hair that was flying wildly in every direction, caught in the air that pushed against her pale face as she ran across the courtyard toward me. I put the book down and watched as she stopped beside me and pulled herself up onto the cement bench. In the distance I could see her father walking quickly toward us with a mixture of amusement and annoyance on his face. I looked down at the little girl and put out my hand. She examined it for a moment, took my hand, and gave it a quick shake, her hand sticky from the drops of juice that escaped from the mouthpiece of her sippy-cup. The following is the conversation that followed the handshake and led to me dubbing the buffalo statue as Babe the Bronze Buffalo.

“Hey there little lady. What’s your name?” I said with a slight smirk, watching as she scooted and adjusted herself on the bench.

“Hewo, I’m Wachel. Who ah you?” she said, finally settled and now inspecting the Dora the Explorer artwork that wrapped around the outside of her sippy-cup.

“My name is Jonathan. Nice to meet you Rachel. I have a friend named Rachel. That’s a nice name.”

“Tank you.”

“So, did you visit the big buffalo?”

“Yup! It’s weawy neat!”

“It is isn’t it? Does it have a name?”

At this point her father arrived next to us, apologizing for his daughter. I told him it was fine and that she’s a great kid. We talked for a few minutes, leaving Rachel to continue to closely inspect her sippy-cup, her tiny nose scrunched and her brow furrowed in intense concentration.

“It name is Babe, the bwig bwue bull,” she said suddenly, out of nowhere.
Her father and myself looked at each other for a moment before looking down at Rachel who was still fiddling with her sippy-cup, her tiny legs dangling over the edge of the cement bench seat.

“But it’s not blue, honey, and it’s not a bull it’s a buffalo,” said the father with an amused chuckle.

The little girl shook her sippy-cup in agitation and shook her head, a look of complete and utter seriousness crossed her face as she looked up at me, her bright green eyes looking into mine and said, “It bwue I pwomise, wike Babe the bwig bwue bull.”

After that her father took her hand and helped her off of the cement bench. I said my goodbyes to them both and watched for a moment as they walked away.

By the time they left it was time for me to shuffle off to class; so as I sat in the screening room in the Center of the Arts building, I slowly began to forget about what the little girl said about the bronze buffalo. When class was over I exited the building and made my regular trek across campus toward the Stadium Parking Lot. As I passed the Alumni Arena, as I have done countless times during my time here, I noticed something on the side of the building out of the corner of my eye. I continued to walk for a few steps before stopping dead in my tracks and doing a double take toward the normally blank, brown-bricked façade of the side of the Alumni Arena. There, in all its big blue glory was a large lit-up projection of the University at Buffalo’s mascot: a big blue bull. It was then that I remembered what the little girl sad about “Babe the bwig bwue bull” and couldn’t help but stand there in the middle of the walkway, still looking at the bull mascot projection, and laugh to myself. Since then I have called the bronze statue Babe the Bronze Buffalo in honor of little Rachel, and the wonderment of childish innocence and self-assuredness. I learned a little something from Rachel that day that has helped me throughout my time at UB: sometimes misrepresenting something is the best way to understand it more complexly. Sometimes it’s easier to break everything down into its smallest parts to realize just how alike we all are, human or buffalo/bull. Sometimes we just need to all look at the world through a child’s eyes to truly appreciate it. On my bad days, I just try to look at the bronze buffalo through Rachel’s eyes and I can’t help but smile.

A Personal Goodbye

2009-09-15T16:37:00.002-04:00

Growing up as a child I was exposed (over exposed) to a lot of 80’s pop-culture. Most of this was by way of my two older siblings who were baptized, body and soul, in the holy-wtf-waters of what were the 1980’s. However, I can’t place all of the blame on my siblings; my mother did her own part in indoctrinating me into the realm of 80’s pop-culture. In fact, it was probably my mother’s influence that had a greater affect on me and still does to this day.

You see, in the case of my older brother and sister, they were far more entrenched within the 80’s pop-culture music scene. You know: Madonna, Michael Jackson, the original mallrat Tiffany, the Beat Street soundtrack (kudos to anyone who knows what that is), the 80’s resurgence of George Harrison, Billy Idol, the list goes on. While my early taste in music was somewhat influenced by some of these artists (Billy Idol predominately), as I began to dabble in the canon of 80’s music, aided largely by the kinds of 80’s movies I began to watch in the early years of my childhood, I began to grow more interested in bands like Simple Minds, U2, The Smiths, Meatloaf, Cyndi Lauper, and music that spanned back to the golden days of doo-wop in the 50’s. I never grew close to the music of Michael Jackson, I despised Madonna, and Tiffany was just too much. So, as you can see, my siblings didn’t have much of a sway over me musically or filmicly (aside from Star Wars and Indiana Jones). My mother, however, is a completely different story.

Maybe it was other factors such as me never really connecting with my older siblings when I was younger, or the fact that my mother and I have always had a close relationship. Either way, it was my mom not my older siblings that introduced me to many of the great 80’s pop-culture tween films. I’m talking about all the classics: The Goonies, Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, The Lost Boys (a personal favorite), and of course Dirty Dancing. Again, the list could go on and on to include a lot of the great 80’s comedies such as The Great Outdoors, Ghost Busters I & II, Caddyshack, etc. But for now, I think we’ll end and begin with Dirty Dancing.

I’ll admit it. I love Dirty Dancing. I did when I first watched it with my mom as a youngster, and I still love watching it whenever I come across it on TV. It’s an essential part of my childhood and it will always hold a certain spot in my heart – mostly because of its significance as one of the many bonding elements that 80’s cinema created between me and my mom. Patrick Swayze instantly became a cool, mo-fo in my eyes – a guy who could be both genteel and rough around the edges, delicate and kick-ass. He was and has remained a favorite actor of mine (his role in Donnie Darko, I believe, is grossly underrated; and who can forget him in To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar?).

Two too many pop-culture icons near and dear to me have passed away this year: the late, great writer/director John Hughes (who also inspired the “Brat Pack” movement of the 80’s) and now one of the best pop-culture actors of my time, Patrick Swayze. In the last couple of months, it has felt like small pieces of my childhood died with these two men. I feel myself getting older, and I also see the time that I have left with my mother as becoming more and more precious. At least there will always be the movies, safely preserved on the many DVDs I have stored away; and one day I can share these same relics with my own children as well as the movies that are continuing to shape who I am as an adult. I haven’t talked to my mom since the news broke last night, but I’m sure I will soon. It’ll be an interesting conversation, but one that I’ll treasure a little more now than I might have before yesterday. Thank you John Hughes and Patrick Swayze for the infinitely wonderful memories. Rest in peace.

10 Song 80’s Not-so-Shuffle In Memory of John Hughes and Patrick Swayze:
1) Don’t You (Forget About Me) – Simple Minds
2) Dancing With Myself – Billy Idol
3) Got My Mind Set On You – George Harrison
4) Hallelujah – Leonard Cohen
5) Dead Ringer For Love – Meatloaf
6) Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now – The Smiths
7) Hang Down Your Head – Tom Waits
8) “40” – U2
9) Time After Time – Cyndi Lauper
10) She’s Like the Wind – Patrick Swayze

+66

2009-09-11T12:56:00.008-04:00

An autumnal bruise has slowly begun to creep over the leaves of the trees, and the chilled 66-degree breeze seeps slowly, whistling through the crack at the top of the windowsill in the living room of my apartment. There’s a dull, stale gray like a wet chain link fence stretched along the expanse of the sky overhead. I remember when you used to beg the heavens to cry on days like today; then you would grab my hands and walk me out into the infinite beaded curtains of rain as they collapsed against our soaked bodies, us waltzing to an imaginary, primal beat of rain against asphalt, of rain against grass, of rain against clothes seeping through to the skin, and wrapping around our hearts like a rolling river over a still and patient stone.

But how is it that I only think of you on days like today. When I recall the simple turn at the corner of your lips, your hands lying palms up like two tiny islands anchored within a vast sea of white cotton on the sheets that covered your bare thighs, my fingers gently sketching disconnected constellations of our dreams along your fingertips. You would rest your head against my shoulder, your warm breath digging ditches along my skin paved over with the loose strands of auburn hair that would slide and fall over my shoulder and down along my chest. And there would be nothing of light or sound aside from a sliver of dingy tan light and the rattle and hum of the streetlight that stood in solitude at the corner of a parking lot behind my old apartment. Lost in the darkness of our love, within the sin of our affection, against the spotlight of an incandescent angel, we would slip into the delicate space between affairs and heartache until the dawn of a new day.

“Drink this. It’ll put color in your cheeks,” you told me during a cold night on the sidewalks of Greenville outside of Liquid Highway. I took a slow sip of the coffee and watched you grin, close your eyes, and then turn your face toward the brisk winter breeze that came tumbling down South Main St. The cold air turned your already pale face into an almost translucent crystalline sheen, your auburn hair from months ago upon the bed in my apartment now black as the backdrop of nighttime sky that seemed to envelope you like a new moon sea. I took another sip of the coffee, feeling the warmth of the liquid scream through my body, sending a rush of heat through my veins. The cold breeze finally subsided, lowering itself into the cobblestone pedestrian walkway that stretched across the street behind us. I watched as your black wool peacoat rested upon the bulge of your belly, the final reminder that you were never mine, the accident that toppled the temple of our affair. And no matter how much that night killed me, that’s the reason why I can only think of you during the deepest recesses of a Northern autumn. Your warmth is the only thing that puts the color back in my cheeks, no matter how artificial, no matter how translucent against the breeze, no matter how accidentally we were released from love.

Shameless TV Junkie Post

2009-09-07T14:38:00.002-04:00

Warning: This is going to be a list post. Warning II: I’m a TV junkie. Warning III: This is going to be a list post dedicated to my TV junkiness (“Junkiness? Wtf?” Deal with it Merriam-Webster, I create my own collection of words, yo).

Much to the dismay of my mental stability this fine fall, I have taken on the weight of far too many show to watch this season. Most of that fault lies on my insistence to watch more TV last fall (I know, I’m trying to figure that one out as well). As a direct affect of said insistence I took to viewing a few new shows; namely, Dollhouse and Fringe. So, I really didn’t take on too much added weight last season; however, I have fully made up for that this fall season. This list is meant to serve as a reminder for me so I will not forget to watch the season premieres of these shows, seeing as I have a lot to catch.

The list that is about to follow may shock you, it may dismay you, it may lead you to think less of me (of which I do not blame you), and it may cause you to attempt to exorcise the TV demons (I would ask you not to do this, especially in the form of voodoo or uses of other mystical-like magics; It would be greatly appreciated). Anyway, I just want to say that I take no blame for any vomiting (partial or otherwise) that may ensue from reading any part of the following list. If you go the way of Bon Scott, well, that’s your fault. I gave you three warnings and a geeked-out made up word to deter ye weak of televised hearts. This is your last chance to turn away. The list begins now…

Glee – Fox, Sept. 9 at 9pm
The Office – NBC, Sept. 17 at 9pm
Fringe – Fox, Sept. 17 at 9pm (either Fringe or The Office will be watched online)
Dancing With the Stars – ABC, Sept. 21 at 8pm (I don’t want to hear it…)
Flash Forward – ABC, Sept. 24 at 8pm (Joseph Fiennes? Yes, please)
Dollhouse – Fox, Sept. 25 at 9pm (The casting news for the new season (Summer Glau and Alexis Denisof?!) has me really, really excited)
The Amazing Race – CBS, Sept 27 at 8pm
Stargate Universe – Syfy, Oct. 2 at (?)
V – ABC, Nov. 3 at 8pm
Lost – ABC, early 2010
24 – Fox, Jan. 17 at 9pm
Caprica – Jan. 22 at (?)

Hm, for some reason I felt there was more than just 12. There are a greater number of returning shows versus new shows (7:5), which is what I expected. See, that wasn’t so bad. However, there are no guarantees that the list will not grow in size as the season progresses. Again, you have been warned…for a fourth time now. I shouldn’t be so nice.

The 5 Song Morning Shuffle
1) Business Time – Flight of the Conchords
2) Moonshiner (Bob Dylan Cover) – Bob Forrest
3) Muzzle – Smashing Pumpkins
4) In My Arrival – Vienna Teng
5) Lullaby – Jack Johnson featuring Matt Costa

The Morning Shuffle

2009-09-06T15:14:00.003-04:00

I have a fairly mundane morning routine. I get up and go about the essentials, you know: brushing the ivories, shaving the two day old stubble, trimmin’ the beard, making myself stink less (i.e. showering). After I do all of that I usually shuffle into the kitchen, fix a pot of coffee and, if I’m feeling adventurous, cook a decent breakfast. That last bit is completely voluntary. Usually “cooking a decent breakfast” amounts to slotting a brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tart into the toaster. I know, I know, not the healthiest way to start the day but it makes my taste buds sing and my tummy do a jig so it’s all right with me. While the Pop-Tart is heating up and the coffee is percolating, I tend to my cat. I make sure his poop-box is clear (sprinkle in a little odor fighting powder if it is, go digging for buried treasure if it isn’t) and then I pour in his food and water for the morning in their rightful, stainless steeled places (Btw, it should be pointed out that my cat has been spoiled to the point where he will only drink filtered water. No lie. I’ve tried reacquainting him with tap, and Harry just treats it like a one night stand.).

By the time I take care of Harry’s needs, my coffee and Pop-Tart are ready to be consumed. So I pour the coffee into one of my favorite mugs, place the Pop-Tart on a napkin, and carry them into my living room to eat and drink and be merry at my coffee table. While munching away on my Pop-Tart and sipping away at my coffee, I lift the lid on my macbook and power up the ole gal. Once she is purring I usually immediately open itunes and prepare for my daily dose of music in the morning. I’ve found that it’s an absolutely lovely way to start the day, and that when I somehow forget to partake in this fine bit of merriment the rest of my day usually goes down the thunderbox (i.e. Australian for toilet…no lie).

Now for a while I would just choose a certain artist, skim through their albums until I found one that suited my fancy, and then sit back and enjoy. But after a while I began to realize I was choosing a lot of the same artists over and over and over again. Now there’s nothing wrong with repetitive listening, especially when you’re really into an artist and/or that artist really seems to just get you at that point in time. However, like I’m sure many of you out there, I have a large amount of music stored in itunes. So after a while I started feeling as if I was neglecting certain kinds of music. I began to feel bad about this; so my first inclination was to force myself to choose a different artist over the one I wanted to listen to. That failed miserably after the first couple of days. Then I took one of those surveys where you put your itunes on shuffle and list the first five or ten songs that play. I know this wasn’t exactly groundbreaking, and I’m sure everyone reading this has done one of these surveys at some point, but it hit me. This was the perfect way to venture deep into my itunes library on a daily basis without sacrificing my musical preference of the moment.

So, since doing the survey, every morning I put my itunes on shuffle and listen to the first five songs that come up. Then if I still want to listen to another artist I set off to listen to them, or if I decide that I would like to listen to one of the five random artists instead I have that option as well. It’s a great way to revisit (and re-experience) a lot of lost gems that may be hovering around in your itunes library. Just something I thought I would share. Also, I think I’ll make my 5 Song Morning Shuffle a regular part of my blog posts. So every time I post a blog I will include my 5 Song Morning Shuffle results in bold at the bottom. I would love to see some of your results in the comments. I always enjoy discovering new music so this could be the perfect opportunity for that.

Today’s 5 Song Morning Shuffle:
1) Cannonball (Damien Rice Cover) – Vienna Teng
2) Black Plant – The Last Shadow Puppets
3) Different Names for the Same Thing – Death Cab for Cutie
4) You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere (Bob Dylan Cover) – Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová
5) I Don’t Owe You Anything – The Smiths

The Way Headaches Taste

2009-09-03T17:11:00.002-04:00

Last night was not a good night. For the majority of the evening I was laid up on the futon nursing a nasty little headache. It felt like a small parasite was crawling around in my head. Just crawling, not attacking in anyway making it not so much painful as all out annoying. The way I have always described these kinds of headaches is that they feel stale. There’s such a stagnant feeling to them, like forgotten and weather worn metal that slowly rusts over the years. That’s what the headache last night felt like, slowly rusting metal. It tasted like it also.

People have always looked at me weird when I tell them that headaches have a certain taste to them. I’m not sure if this is the case with everyone, but it is with me. Each of my headaches has a unique taste that accompanies it every time. A stress headache has a heavily sour taste and leaves an uneasiness in my stomach similar to the smell of textile plant waste water (which is similar to the foul smell of paper manufacturing plants if you’re more familiar with those). Migraines leave a sort of rotten egg taste that seems to coat the throat. Fortunately, if you can think of it that way, the pain is so bad that the taste is the least of my worries. Although it doesn’t help with the excessive queasiness that naturally comes with migraines. Migraines just suck. Anxiety fueled headaches are similar to that of stress headaches.

I guess I’m just strange; at least that’s what my friends and family tell me when I describe this strange headache induced taste effect. Does this happen to anyone else? I’m interested to hear about it if it does.

The night eventually turned for the better around 10pm or so after a couple of Excedrin pills began circulating through my system. At that point I was exhausted and felt like if I made one subtle move in the wrong direction most of my dinner would punch a one-way ticket to the realm of the porcelain god. So I reached very gingerly toward my laptop, which was on the coffee table in front of my futon, and skimmed through itunes until I found Carl Perkins. I then spent about an hour or so listening to Perkins’ country rock-a-billy while my stomach settled. All in all, the evening could have ended under much worse circumstances. Thankfully, by the time I was tired enough to go to sleep my stomach and head were both quite calm.

I woke up this morning to a beautiful, sunny scene outside my bedroom window and a happily snoring cat curled up on the bed against my left leg. Coffee and Ben Folds followed and then I was off to UB for class. Today has been very peaceful and relaxing so far, and tonight seems as though it will be much better than last night. Tonight will bring cold beer and college football. Oh autumn, how I love thee. And how I will learn to love thee more when I am finally done with college and no longer dread your annual approach. Cheers, darlin’. Here’s to glorious years of deep fondness to come.

Beginning of the End and a Warning to that Roundabout Sir Procrastination

2009-09-01T15:29:00.001-04:00

Today was the first day of my final semester as a graduate student at UB. I took about a minute to think about that sentence after writing it. One minute later I’m still not too sure how I feel. It feels a little bittersweet. As much as I have railed against my time in the Media Studies department, my time in the English department has been beyond amazing. It was everything I had expected graduate school to be and more. I will always cherish my time in the English department. Also, I just recently found out that USA Today ranked UB’s English department as the 9th best English Literary Theory and Analysis program in the country, tied only with Princeton. When I found that out not only was I proud to have been a part of the program the year it was being considered for ranking, but I was also ecstatic about the weight my MA will now carry. While I have recently been leaning against going for a PhD, with that kind of ranking behind my MA and with my BA from Clemson (ranked 22nd in the best public universities list by USA Today), I have a lot more confidence that I could possibly be accepted into a decent program. Not to mention my 3.96 GPA right now. As long as I work hard and put together a good thesis then I think I’ll have a little more than a decent shot at getting into one of the PhD programs I had been eyeing before. Although, at this point, I’m pretty much down to just one program that I’m really interested in: the Theatre and Film Studies PhD at the University of Georgia. I would be back in the South where I belong and, after talking to their Director of Graduate Studies over multiple emails, the program just feels like the perfect fit for what I want to study if I decide to go that route. So, we’ll see. I’ve been getting a little excited about the MLIS program I’ve been looking into lately. So it will all depend on where my mind is when all of this comes together later this year. Blah, I hate making life-defining decision. It kind of sucks.

The weather has gone from cool and gloomy to warm and sunny. It made getting up this morning and driving over to the university a lot easier. To be completely honest, though, I had been looking forward to getting this final semester started. It felt like time was wasting away before today. I knew that until I could get started the end would never come. Well it’s started now and before long I’ll probably be complaining about how the end is coming too soon. That’s why I’m making lists and prioritizing my time over the next couple of months so I won’t be scrambling to put together the last bit of my thesis at the end of the semester. I honestly do not need that kind of stress. Procrastination, be gone! There’s a new man in town and his name is productivity.

P.S. Seriously, Procrastination, I mean it. Stay away…stay far, far away. Productivity has some serious ADD so don’t even think about tempting it with various media-based goodies. If you do, I will have to resort to using the mariner’s revenge: “Find him, bind him, tie him to a pole and break his fingers to splinters, drag him to a hole until he wakes up naked, clawing at the ceiling of his grave” (The Decemberists). You have been warned, Procrastination. Tempt at your own risk.

Pictoquote Weekends - Suffer in Silence

2009-08-29T15:33:00.005-04:00

“Too much talking these days. Talk talk talk. This country would get along much better if people learned how to suffer in silence.”

Neil Gaiman – American Gods

Perks of Being a Gentleman

2009-08-28T12:18:00.004-04:00

Free alcohol. That simple. I haven’t paid for alcohol in what seems like years – most likely months since I’m prone to exaggerate from time to time. The above is a picture of an expensive bottle of wine given to me, as a gift, by my dad. He in turn received it as a gift from a friend of his with whom he does business with out of NYC. Now, this post is both an example of the exercise of being a gentleman in one’s own right, but also being lucky enough to be the son of a gentleman. Seriously, the main reason why it has been so long since I have had to buy alcohol is because of my dad’s close relationships with various people he does business with.

I’m not going to take a picture of all of my alcoholic brethren together, but if I were to take such a picture it would resemble something like this: in the front would sit two large cases of Yuengling, behind them would be the notorious line-up of Jack, Sky, Absolut, and Crown Royal, and behind that pleasant group would be three bottles of wine standing tall. I assure you I’m not an alcoholic. The fact that I have so much alcohol in my possession stems from the fact that I do a tiny bit of hosting on Friday nights from time to time, and when the Buffalo winters get a bit too cold for my Southern bones then I have a nice variety with which to reignite the weary hearth of my soul. Also, I’ll have a beer or two to relax the nerves at night after a long day of research and writing. Just comes with the territory of being a displaced Southern academic and writer, I suppose. It’s just the easiest way to fill the empty place where a little bit of my soul was ripped away as I crossed the Mason-Dixon line during my journey back up North. Blah, this is starting to get depressing. I refuse to let this entire post become one long gloomy diatribe.

Anyway, the above bottle of wine will be saved until the day that I successfully present and defend my master’s thesis. On that glorious night I will pop open that bottle of six-year-old wine and drink it merrily from my Medieval Times wine glass. I know, very geek chic.

Film Review - Ugetsu (1953)

2009-08-27T19:42:00.004-04:00

Picture From: Andy Film

Ugetsu (1953) follows the self-fulfilling (greed fueled) journeys of peasant farmer Tobei (Eitarô Ozawa) and farmer/potter Genjuro (Masayuki Mori) as they seek fame and riches at any expense. Director Kenji Mizoguchi is unrelenting in his portrayal of the emotional and psychological destruction left in the wake of Tobei and Genjuro’s recklessly selfish ways, most of which falls on the shoulders of the wives – Tobei’s wife, Ohama (Mitsuko Mito), and Genjuro’s wife, Miyagi (Kinuyo Tanaka) – they leave behind to fend for themselves against the unstable backdrop of 16th Century feudal Japan.

Inner desires take the form of tangible objects, and inner turmoil takes the form of fallen women entirely deconstructed from the inside out physically and psychologically. Kenji Mizoguchi masterfully toys with the mise-en-scène of every shot with painstaking care in order to extract every last drop of emotionality from both the actors and the space they inhabit. Intricate uses of silence and empty space become just as important throughout the film as the overly active, and sometimes pantomimic, scenes that take hold of the early moments of the film. While we are introduced to a set of naïve, childlike protagonists during the opening thirty minutes of the film, we are likewise left during the film’s closing moments with two fully maturated men against the backdrop of domestic stability amongst much social upheaval.

While I will not give away the ending, the final moments of the film are easily the most moving and heart wrenching. The seamless fluidity of the camera movement, which takes on the feeling of a long take giving the scene a breath of false realism, and utter simplicity of the mise-en-scène creates an atmosphere of longing and psychological weariness rarely found in the aesthetically grandiose cinema of today. If we can learn anything from this film it is that less is always more when it comes to cinematic portrayals of inner emotional and psychological turmoil.

Farewell Buffalo - Part 1

2009-08-26T20:32:00.002-04:00

Cool weather is continuing to grace the lovely (wait…sorry, I just threw up a little in my mouth) city of Buffalo, which is making for a happier and more comfortable gentleman. I realized this morning that this week is my last week of freedom before my final semester of graduate school begins next Tuesday. I was expecting a bit more shock/fear/anxiety from such a realization, but none of the above occurred – although, it should be noted that I could, in fact, be in shock and am only trying to wholly convince myself otherwise for the sake of this blog…just saying.

I’m going to try my best to enjoy this final semester. In fact, I made a pact with myself over summer break to try and get out of the apartment more and take in certain aspects of Buffalo I have thus far ignored – mostly out of inner disgust for said city. It should be known, because I have not had this blog long enough for many of my newer readers to understand, that I have a great dislike for the city of Buffalo, NY. The people are fine; I have no qualms with the citizens of this dilapidated city, and (truth be told) I have very few qualms with my university (just the department I’m a part of at the moment). I’m sure we can all blame it on my stubborn Southern sensibilities and my lack of enthusiasm toward actually trying to enjoy my time here. I entered into this Northern experience full of wide-eyed optimism and within the first two months I was transformed into a cynical, Buffalo hating fool. I’m not proud of the fact, but it happened. However, there are parts of this city that I will miss. I hope to chronicle those areas off and on in this blog throughout my final semester. We’ll see how that goes. And when I say “We’ll see how that goes,” what I actually mean is we’ll see if I have time while slaving over my master’s thesis to make said fond farewells. I’ll try my best, Buffalo, I promise. I owe you that much. But, if I am intent on getting out there and experiencing the little bit of good in Buffalo that I have somehow missed, I better get out there now before the first snow because once that happens I’m psychologically done for and that promise will be as good as broken.

So, in a vain attempt to get myself started on this farewell journey of Buffalo, here is the first place I will surely miss upon my departure this December:

The Student Recreation Area on the banks of La Salle Lake on the North Campus of UB. It’s a good thing no one I know from UB reads this blog, because I would probably be ridiculed for admitting this. While I enjoy the quaint little space next to the manmade lake, a lot of the students complain about it nonstop. I understand some of their complaints. The fact that some of the space is located next to a set of dumpsters is a bit unfortunate, especially on warm and windy afternoons. But, really, it’s just one little sliver of land in the very back left corner of the area. Seriously, just don’t sit over there if you hate the smell of garbage. You can’t smell it in the nicer parts of the recreation area close to the lake. Go there. Enjoy it for a change and stop trying to find things to complain about all the time.

Anyway, the picture above was taken from a bench I would frequent on beautiful late summer, early autumn afternoons after classes. This little space is located directly behind The Center for the Arts building, which is where most of my classes are located. I fell in love with the tranquility of this little area especially during the twilight hours when most of the campus traffic had slowed down. It’s really quite lovely. It’s especially lovely sitting on the cement sections surrounded by the columns, feeling the cool breeze roll off the lake. I will truly miss this little peaceful place. I righted many a wayward mental ships there. I know the university has plans on really sprucing the recreation area up in the next few years or so. I might have to make a return trip one summer and see how different things are, maybe sit down on my favorite bench one more time and experience that little area again through older and slightly less jaded eyes.

Little bench – where I fed many a squirrel acorns and toasted Ritz chips – next to La Salle Lake, I will miss you.

Book Survey

2009-08-26T11:48:00.002-04:00

Just as I’m all for to-do lists, I am also all for entry filling surveys. I would like to thank a certain lovely blogger by the name of Haley G. Hoover (The Hayleylujah Chorus) for this little gem. If I’m going to use a survey for a blog post, then I’m glad this one is at least intellectually stimulating. You know, ‘cause it’s about books and smarty-farty stuff.

1. What author do you own the most books by?

J.K. Rowling (9) and William Faulkner (8)

2. What book do you own the most copies of?
The Moviegoer (4) and Leaves of Grass (4)

3. Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
Not in the slightest. I’m from the South; if you’re not finishing half of your sentences with prepositions then something is wrong with you.

4. What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Allison from Walker Percy’s novel The Second Coming.

5. What book have you read the most times in your life (excluding picture books read to children; i.e., Goodnight Moon does not count)?
I have read The Moviegoer, The Last Gentleman, and The Second Coming five times each. The Catcher in the Rye comes in second with four times, and I’ve read the entire Harry Potter series three times.

6. What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
The Mouse and the Motorcycle by Beverly Cleary and the My Teacher is an Alien series by Bruce Coville.

7. What is the worst book you’ve read in the past year?
Breaking Dawn by a long shot. So as not to only pick on Stephenie Meyer, I would also include In the Country of Last Things by Paul Austere and Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen.

8. What is the best book you’ve read in the past year?
If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem by William Faulkner. It was a revelation and a refreshingly raw look at the oftentimes romanticized nature of love. I’m speaking more about The Wild Palms narrative, but overall it’s a fantastic novel.

9. If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?
Walker Percy’s The Moviegoer. It spoke to me in a way no other novel had, and picked me up when I was falling.

10. What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
A lot of books I read would not be conducive for film adaptation. However, a lot of Steve Alten’s books scream for a spot in the summer blockbuster film line-up, and I wouldn’t mind seeing a few of his books make it to the screen; preferably Goliath or The Domain Trilogy.

11. What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
Anything by Walker Percy. It would be a travesty and a little piece of my soul would die upon its completion.

12. Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
I went on a cross-country road trip with Will Barrett and Quentin Compson. That was one hell of a journey through the landscape of existentialist thought on the place of the old world Southern male in the modern world. It was grand, btw.

13. What is the most lowbrow book you’ve read as an adult?
The Twilight series, hands down.

14. What is the most difficult book you’ve ever read?
Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace. An incredibly difficult, dense novel that I’m still trying to decide whether I liked or not.

15. What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you’ve seen?
Henry VI Part I. It was obscure and a horrible production. I have yet to revisit the play on my own since that experience, but I need to in order to erase that abysmal night at the theatre from my memory.

16. Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
Chekhov, Nabokov, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky…Russians.

17. Roth or Updike?

To be completely honest, neither.

18. David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
Sadly, I have yet to read anything by either of them. Hopefully that will be remedied sooner than later.

19. Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?

This is a tough one. Before the graduate course I took on Milton last semester, Shakespeare would have won hands down. Now, I just don’t know. I guess I would still go with Shakespeare, though.

20. Austen or Eliot?
Eliot, by far.

21. What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
Probably Moby Dick. Aside from his short story “Bartleby the Scrivener,” I find it tiresome to read anything by Melville. I might get around to it one day, but probably not any time soon.

22. What is your favorite novel?
It’s a dead tie between The Moviegoer, The Last Gentleman, and The Catcher in the Rye.

23. Play?
Othello, Miss Julie, Closer

24. Poem?
“One Hour to Madness and Joy” by Walt Whitman

25. Essay?
“Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematographic Apparatus” by Jean-Louis Baudry and “The Ontology of the Photographic Image” by André Bazin.

26. Work of nonfiction?
Faulkner: A Biography by Joseph Blotner and Pilgrim in the Ruins: A Life of Walker Percy by Jay Tolson.

27. Who is your favorite writer?
Walker Percy

28. Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
Ahem…Stephenie Meyer.

29. What is your desert island book?
Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

30. And… what are you reading right now?
American Gods by Neil Gaiman

Film Review - In a Lonely Place (1950)

2009-08-24T14:35:00.006-04:00

Picture from: Film Noir

In a Lonely Place (1950) is a film that covers a gamut of genres from film noir/suspense/romance/drama/etc. The film follows out-of-luck Hollywood screenwriter Dixon Steele (Humphrey Bogart) as he looks to fill the void – the lonely place – created by a lack of job security and a lack of love. On a fateful evening while meeting with friends, and fellow Hollywood employees, at a nightclub to discuss a possible new project for Dix to sign on to (an adaptation of a popular romantic epic novel), Dix meets the nightclub’s hatcheck girl, Mildred Atkinson (Martha Stewart), who tells Dix that she had read and thoroughly enjoyed the novel in question. Since Dix is cynical about the overall quality of the novel and is not the least bit interested in reading it, he invites her to accompany him home to retell the story for him. The evening ends with Mildred leaving Dix’s house alone, only to be discovered later dead in a ditch alongside the road making Dix (who is known for his volatile temper) the lead suspect. His alibi for that evening, neighbor Laurel Gray (Gloria Grahame), who saw him remain at home upon Mildred’s leaving that evening soon becomes romantically linked with Dix. Their relationship quickly becomes the breading ground for the underlying subplots of lust, jealousy, inner-torment, suspicion, gender roles, romantic imprisonment, domestic abuse, and the lonely place that a socially doomed companionship can create between a seemingly happy couple.

This overall plot line of Dix being suspected of murdering Mildred Atkinson becomes the linking element for much of the rest of the film, but subtly so. A lingering sense that Dix could snap at any moment (and oftentimes does) creates an atmosphere of anxiety for the viewer. However, more importantly, as the film progresses we as the spectator slowly become less interested in this underlying plot of murder and increasingly interested in the torment of the man and the fear of the woman (played unforgettably by Gloria Grahame). The lonely place described in the title of the film begins to take on myriad forms from the onset, well before the murder even takes place. The lonely place becomes a metaphor for the creative black hole that Hollywood had become at the time, and the dark oppressive cloud that the usual mores and narrative redundancies had cast over the growing calls for film’s acceptance as a respected art form. The lonely place also takes the form of the bitter void left within the hearts of us all who have been used and discarded by just such a fair-weather society. And, finally, the lonely place takes the form of deeply entrenched hatred and the bitter hurt of a tormented lust for a fictionally based perfect companionship.

During a period in film history when the cookie cutter ways of studio production were coming to an end, rumblings of a narrative renaissance were beginning to be heard by way of the French filmmakers of the French New Wave and from American filmmakers like Orson Welles, Howard Hawks, and John Ford. In a Lonely Place becomes the perfect vessel of introspection (along with other films like Sunset Boulevard (1950), All About Eve (1950), and even Citizen Kane (1941) to a certain extent) concerning this oftentimes precarious but historically significant transition within the film industry. Raw, tormented, and at times physically and emotionally disturbing (a caricature of the very society he rejects), this is easily one of Bogart’s best performances in his storied career. It also gives us one of the best melodramatic catch phrases in film history:

“I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived for a few weeks while she loved me.”

Final Semester To-do List

2009-08-23T17:17:00.004-04:00

I awoke to a gloomy gray morning. A cool breeze is waltzing through the apartment as I write, which is a welcome change from the balmy stillness during the better part of the week. This is the first time that the needle of the thermostat in my air conditionless apartment has hovered around the 70-degree mark since my return to Buffalo last Sunday evening.

The birds are chirping happily in the few trees that surround the apartment complex. My cat, Harry, is sitting like a soldier at attention in the window watching as they zoom carelessly by my apartment, or flit playfully in the gutter of the neighboring apartment building.

Days like this I search desperately for some kind of creative stimulus, some kind of spark in the recesses vacated by my mischievous muse. I recently made a day of outlining a story idea I have been bouncing around in my head for months now, and all I want to do is feel the impetus to sit down, put fingers to keys, and purge these impatient ideas. Characters are singing to be born, familiar places are buzzing to be reinterpreted, and fiction is slyly whispering like Satan in Eve’s sleeping ear to be ferried from dreamscape to reality. This is one of the main reasons why I wanted to start this blog in hopes that a daily – or even weekly – sit down in front of the word processor would do an ailing creative body some good. So far, it is not working out quite as planned; although, the spur of the moment creative post “Reflection on a City Park Romance” was a sight for my otherwise sore right-hemisphere of the brain. While I’m still feeling somewhat stunted, I’m also beginning to feel a bit optimistic that the day of creative eureka will come sooner than later. The onset of a bleak Northern fall and dissolute winter always fuels the creative juices within me like a dormant volcano boiling in wait after a long hibernation.

Since I have recently become a fan of lists I’m going to use this post as a venue to do just that. So, without further ado, here is a list of things that must be done within my upcoming – and final – semester of graduate school:

1) Apply for the MLIS graduate program at the University of South Carolina
2) Apply – for shits and giggles – for the PhD Theatre and Film program at the University of Georgia
3) Complete and defend my master’s thesis by the end of November – no later than the first week of December
4) Pack all non-essential stuff in my apartment before the beginning of November
5) Finish packing everything else by mid-December
6) Finish outlining novel and/or begin writing it by mid-December – NaNoWriMo may be a good outlet for this if time permits at the beginning of November
7) Create a subset list for #3 of this list that includes the following:
a) Complete at least 15-20 pages of master’s thesis by the end of September
b) Complete at least 15-20 pages of master’s thesis by the end of October
c) Complete any needed revisions to master’s thesis by mid-late November

I think that covers all of my immediate pressing issues for the upcoming semester. I’ll regularly update on the completion of any and all of the above list by either reapplying the list to the end of future posts and striking through those completed, or by including small page counts of references in bold at the end of future posts. Splendid.

It’s raining now for the fourth straight day; so, I’m going to fix a hot cup of tea and enjoy what I can of the day – which most likely equates to watching either tennis or golf and possibly a movie later this evening. All of these unproductive days will be the death of me this semester…I can feel it.

Where Affairs End and Life Begins...Again

2009-08-23T12:52:00.003-04:00

Barred Oriels of Orchard Park

I still remember the day when you said,
“Even the snow does not die gracefully,”
Lifting you naked body from the bed.
I watched you stride down the hallways slowly,
Your skin tight against the strained Northern sun
That bled through the windows of our blithe tomb.
The dust in the air shattered around you
Like thousands of tiny prisms reflecting
The inequity of our love, held mute
Behind the barred oriels of masked rooms.
And as you vanished ‘round the bathroom door,
Your brown hair muddied against the pale peaks
Of your shoulders, I could not help but think,
“Even the snow does not die gracefully.”

Picture and Poem by:

Jonathan G.

Reflection on a City Park Romance

2009-08-23T12:36:00.004-04:00

“I remember a picnic by the bench in front of the base of the stone bridge at the Reedy River Falls Park on a surprisingly cool southern June afternoon. The sky seemed a translucent shade of Tar Heel blue, allowing for the briefest glimpses into the star-laden heavens before the pleasant passing of a wayward cloud closed the curtain upon the universal stage to allow the sparkling players a chance to briefly rearrange for a midsummer night’s dream. You were smiling pleasantly seated across from me on the navy blue blanket we had spread out over the lush, emerald grass beneath us. We were separated by a light tan colored picnic basket filled to the brim with paper plates, napkins, containers full of food, and Dixie Cups for the wine. A soft swirling breeze nipped at the edges of your auburn hair, anxious to waltz along your pale shoulders beneath an apathetic sun. Your sunflower colored sundress settled loosely against your body, at times hugging the subtle curves of your hips, waist, and thighs with each intermittent whisper of the wind. Your feet were bare, and scooted curiously off the blanket’s edge where your toes would flex and peruse each individual blade of grass they came across. I remember quoting from Walt Whitman’s poem “Leaves of Grass” saying, “I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.”

As I finished your gaze slowly moved from the water that trickled slowly through the tunnel beneath the stone bridge and met my eyes. There was a tenderness I had never before seen swimming around the dark edges of your pupils, wavering in and out of black and green. You closed your eyes, took in a deep breath, sighed, and turned your gaze back to the ever-flowing water beside us. It was with that sigh that I knew I had lost you – not the next day, not even in that very moment. But I knew that we were not of the same blade of grass. We were not of the same spark. “It’s easy to fall in love; it’s staying in love that is the hard part. It was too hard for us.” You would say this the night we ended it all in front of our favorite coffee shop on S. Main. But during that moment on our navy blue blanket at the base of the stone bridge, I poured two cups of red wine for you and me and enjoyed the beautiful afternoon.”

Picture and Prose by:

Jonathan G. (Last Gentleman)