Buddy Guy started Down South, picking cotton, as his ancestors had done for too long. He loved playing guitar and made his way up to Chicago. Worked a long time to get The Industry to dig his sound. Got some help from the English, who were more directly inspired by and keen on promoting Guy’s rawer, more energetic style of Blues.
About twenty years ago my father came to town to re-wire the recording studio he had wired up decades previous, and they put him on the guest list at Buddy Guy’s. I joined him and his wife and we listened all through the night, moving from standing around the perimeter, as is common in Chicago blues clubs, to sitting at a table once the crowd thinned. There was a blind organist that Dad’s wife had grown up listening to. It was a long loud night. Afterward we piled into Dad’s car. The wife wanted popcorn shrimps, so we cruised through the night to a stand that sold popcorn shrimp in paper bags.
They had the original Charlie Brown Christmas on Apple TV, which is a sweet little thing I re-watched with the family. But you know what is a Christmas Movie we had never seen before? Die Hard! You know? That is an amazingly great movie. Another perfect action movie. If you haven’t seen Die Hard, go for it. You needn’t wait for Christmas.
Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai
Because it was referenced in “Americana” and because I remember enjoying it decades ago … once upon a time, a mafioso saved the life of this weird kid who was into Japanese culture. In the present day, that kid, now a grown man, lives alone on a roof with pigeons, working hits for the mafioso, His Retainer, in the spirit of the Samurai.
A gimmick in the film is when he chats with the Ice Cream Truck man, who only speaks French. They each speak in their respective languages, arriving at the same conclusion. This probably illustrates something relevant about perceiving the world beyond the limits of language. It is a fun movie and I’m glad I watched it again.
The Samurai is a way that is no longer followed, and the mafia in this movie also understands that it has lost its spirit and is also on the way out. Ghost Dog came out in 1999, when the world was changing quickly into the Brave New Digital World of today. It feels like every day, I see a bit more value in bringing back some Older Ways.
Le Samouraï
A loner hitman lives upstairs with a bird. He is very careful about his work and covering his tracks. He steals cars with ease. License plates are swapped. When a female witnesses his work, he takes no action against her. His client turns violently against him. Ghost Dog clearly drew some influence from this 1967 film, where everyone speaks French.
The Cops feature more in this film. Dogged Big City Cops. The boss detective is trying to pin the protagonist down: his alibis are too perfect. But the beautiful piano player lady swears absolutely, this is not the guy.
There’s a lot of hide and seek on the Paris Metro. And vintage French cars with headlights so dull that every not-young person would swear “aha! they have gotten so much brighter!” The plot is engaging, but the movie tends to drag a bit, in my esteem. Yeah, you’re doing a Noir crime chase but a lot of the scenes loiter too long in the dark.
I also learned that the 1967 Paris Cop term for a surveillance bug is “walkie talkie.”
The Apartment
This was playing at Alamo, but the online seat selector said there were no good seats to be had and the weather was crap so I pulled this up on Fandango at Home. 1960s Manhattan. A guy works on the 19th floor of an insurance company: a vast open sea of desks crammed together beneath a ceiling of fluorescent lights. But he has a scheme to advance his career: he makes his apartment available to executives who need a place to bring their mistresses for an hour or two.
This, of course, is a logistical hassle and often a great inconvenience. I like his apartment. Pre-war. Cozy. Nice architectural details. An air conditioner and a pathetic kitchen. Anyway, he has a crush on the Elevator Girl and as his prospects improve so to does his confidence in courting her. Of course, she’s working through her past(?) fling with The Big Boss … long story short, the protagonist comes home to find the Elevator Girl in his bed overdosing on pills. The neighbor, a Doctor, helps save her life and counsels that he needs to closely monitor her recovery.
It was a wonderful movie. Suspenseful and humane. One scene that caught in my attention is earlier when he’s trying to impress her by explaining “I know everything about you. Where you live, your family …” and he explains that he pulled her policy card to learn more about her. She takes this creeper news in stride. Either folks thought somewhat differently about privacy and ethics back then or we’re being told that her standards for decency in men have been lowered below the horizon. Point being that it can be really hard in New York to sort through all the ambitious young men and distinguish the ethical lapses of the over-eager from the bald lies of the truly rotten.
The Hospital
After “The Apartment” Fandango suggested “The Hospital.” Another hectic Manhattan workplace in 1971: a busy teaching hospital. The protagonist runs the place. The hospital is a giant complicated mechanism of endless headaches and his life and mental state are both badly on the slide.
There are people picketing outside because the hospital’s expansion plan requires the demolition of tenements across the street. At one point they have a meeting with the protestors and everybody wants something else. I have experienced enough public meetings to know that scene. Oh and it seems that maybe the medical staff are being carefully murdered.
Pairs really well with The Apartment. This time, the workplace affairs are conducted in broom closets, or, when a patient dies, in an empty bed in a room shared by a comatose patient. Young Doctors have no time for the shenanigans of Insurance executives.
Late last year I started watching movies on Fandango At Home, partly just to get away from the Big Tech Companies a bit. They have an extensive catalog and now I feel like I have re-discovered the old Netflix DVD service: I can just browse endless movies or search one up and have a good time for a few bucks. Here’s some movies I have watched since October.
Cat City
This is from October so I don’t remember too well. The cats and the rats have teamed up against the mice. There’s a lot of incompetent mafia action told in the style of a cheap 1980s Hanna-Barbera cartoon in Hungarian.
My Beautiful Laundrette
Uncle Explains the Situation
Young people. Pakistani Brits, the children of immigrants. London in the 80s. Hustle Culture. The Tube constantly trundling past the flat. Racist Thugs. The sickly father who, like Charlie Bucket’s grandparents, won’t get out of bed, played by Roshan Seth, feels comfortably familiar, because you recognize him from half a dozen other movies. The protagonist starts working for a successful Uncle and takes over running a funky little laundromat, which he fixes up nice. Hijinx ensue as secrets are revealed. A fun movie.
Holds up. We watched this with the boys and it really is a perfect action movie, well acted. Plus it is set in and around Chicago.
Burden of Dreams
This is a “making of” a movie I’ll now need to see, called “Fitzcarraldo” which tells the story of a man named Fitzgerald who in olden days sought to corner the rubber market in part by hauling a steam ship through the jungle to connect from the Amazonian to the Peruvian river basin. But “Burden of Dreams” is about a stubborn film director, Werner Herzog, making this film in the hardest way possible.
A badly pronounced and half-finished sentence out of a cheap, stupid suburban novel.
Part of the story is camping out in the deep Peruvian jungle for several months to film, with a large camp of Native people. Part of the story is getting chased off his first film location. Part of the story is having to re-shoot half the film with a new actor when the first star contracts amoebic dysentery and is forbidden by his Doctor from returning to Peru. The film is re-shot with Klaus Kinski, who irritates the film crew and the Natives enough that I read somewhere the latter offered to kill Kinski on Herzog’s behalf, but Herzog declined because that would have further delayed his filming.
The information screen for “Americana” taken from the “Fandango at Home” app.
A bunch of fun characters. I liked seeing Zahn McClarnon, the sheriff from “Dark Winds” playing a Native American revolutionary. Ghost Eye at one point explains that his nom de guerre is an homage to “Ghost Dog,” a film, I guess we both like, where Forrest Whitaker plays a New York mafia hit man who lives by the code of the Samurai. We’re all just playing a role, might as well have a cool name, right? With the violence, the non-linear storyline, and the compelling characters it felt a lot like “Pulp Fiction.”
Baurnya Salu
A kid is growing up in a village with his grandmother. He doesn’t know his birth parents beyond an old photo. He takes on extra jobs around the village to save some money to visit them. The filming is beautiful. Grandma goes to the city for a checkup and passes away. After the funeral, a bus ride brings him back to his birth family. Back with Mom and Dad and a little brother who understands how the farm works, and can ride a horse. Integrating back into the family is hard because the first born son is a stranger. It is very emotional and the story is really well told. A lot more showing than telling.
The Blues Brothers
The Wife had never seen it. It’s pretty good. A Chicago classic, like poppyseeds on a steamed bun.
I saw a beautiful Cybertruck this morning. It belongs to a neighbor a couple blocks over. It is one of a few licensed liveries the neighbor drives. I had seen him washing it earlier and when I came back around it was glistening in the sunlight. It has a wrap that looks dark green at first but it also glistens in the sunlight, and shifts color as you pass by. This morning, there was a vivid pop of color because a few autumn leaves had come to rest on the shining clean windshield. I stopped and snapped a few pictures.
I don’t like the Cybertruck. They’re dumb. But they’re so over-the-top dumb that they’re kinda charming. Like a pug. Those poor dogs who got bred by dumb humans to look so dumb they can’t breathe. But there’s an accidental beauty in the stainless steel. The stainless steel is among the dumbest aspects of the Cybertruck because it stains at the tip of a child’s finger. Anyone who buys a Cybertruck needs to get a wrap from the aftermarket. That means that every Cybertruck has to be done up in its own personality. These rusting toasters of Brutalist uniformity by their very nature are forced to become objects of individual expression.
CyberTrucks are dumb, and as a result, they are sometimes beautiful.
2025-11-05 Wednesday
I have been in the process of disentangling from Big Tech. I’ve been wary for some time. It was Elon’s “Roman Salute” that left me done with buying stuff on Amazon. Shopping around is a little more effort but that and not just buying random stuff when it pops into my head are both gratifying. Less crap.
A few days ago I took the step of deleting social apps from my phone. Discord, Blewski, Mastodon, Reddit, all back up on the shelf of sitting down at a terminal. More time in my own head to work ideas through. Less clutter.
The monkeys are being peeled off my back. I feel a bit more like myself again. I start to feel like thing are more possible again. Let’s keep the feeling going. More life.
As I walked this morning I recalled an informal life goal had been days where I could spend a little time at the coffee shop, then hop on the train to work. I have this now. I am typing these words at my favorite cafe as my coffee cools. Some days I meet a friend for coffee and those are the best. It took time to get here. A tech job where their greater concern is that the work get done, not that I’m present at an office at a particular time. A home not too far from the train station: a bit under 20 minutes to walk. The final piece came, ironically, with the Pandemic, when management saw fit to downsize from a large suburban office site with ample parking to a hole-in-the-wall near the Caltrain. As a Pandemic Parent, though, I Work From Home three days a week, though I have been spending more of those mornings at The Office as well, to help our growing team find its speed.
Some days I make a new friend or two. Thanks to Rutvij and Amin, the above paragraph took somewhat longer to write, but I still made it to the office at a good hour.
The blustery wet weather and a degree of giddiness from last night’s election have made the morning feel like anything is possible.
Train Dreams
I saw the movie “Train Dreams” this weekend. I dragged the family to a small, nearly-empty theater. It felt like something that deserved a theater screen. It is the story of a guy with no family, who grows up in Idaho near the turn of the last century. He finds purpose when a woman introduces herself to him. They build a cabin by the river and have a daughter. There’s no work to be had in town so he’s a migrant lumberjack. Heading out each season to bring down old growth trees. It is hard being away from the people he loves.
One job with the railroad really turns him off future railroad jobs. When he was young, the Chinese had been forcibly removed from his town. Yet when he was out working, “he enjoyed the easy kinship” among men, whether they came from Shanghai or Cleveland. One day he’s sawing a tie with a Chinese guy and some motherfuckers come around, grab the man, and throw him off the bridge. The man’s face lingers in dreams for the rest of the protagonist’s life.
My grandfather grew up in a sod cabin in Montana, his father a Swedish homesteader. Grandpa wasn’t thrilled with the life out there so he rode boxcars to Chicago, and made a new life with his mother’s English name. There was a story I learned from that side of the family, in Upper Michigan, where logging is a major industry, of a relative, a young man, who got crushed to death by logs that had fallen off a truck.
The movie was filmed last year but to see Americans as migrant workers, amid racial violence … the history of a hundred years ago feels fresh. There’s a very soft-spoken scene near the end of the movie, when he visits a “big city” and sees men in a space capsule on a color TV in a store window. He’s never used a telephone. “What’s this?” he asks the woman next to him. “They’re in outer space.” He then notices their reflection in the window, and she confirms they are seeing themselves. It had been a decade since he’d bothered to look at himself in a mirror. The woman is Asian.
The story is of a guy who lives an unremarkable life that is in keeping with his time. I enjoy the human time machine. “Barry Lyndon” and “Lawrence of Arabia” are movies of men living noteworthy lives. “To Live” and “A Man Called Ove” are similar portraits of unremarkable men. Also in the theme is “Ikiru.” Both “A Man Called Ove” and “Ikiru” have been remade in English. “Ikiru” means “To Live” and the Western version is “Living” which is all to say I am not the only person who enjoys this genre. Even if the small theater is empty when I go.
Bicycle Dreams
2025-11-15 Saturday
I feel that a lot of folks are upset that a few Democrats ended the Shutdown. I share some disappointment. I think the aviation delays coming into the holidays would have created a lot of pressure on the Republicans to make a compromise. Instead the Democrats who signed a deal put their party on a tactical retreat: President Trump was eager to hold back food from poor people for political leverage. (Just in case you haven’t already seen that he is evil.) So, the compromise is we’ll pull back on Healthcare for the moment, and in exchange, SNAP is funded through September, and the government through January. Come January, if the healthcare subsidies haven’t been fixed, there will be a crisis underway for 22 million Americans, and nobody need go hungry when the Democrats stand firm.
Republicans, for their part are like “gee we want people to have heath care but we have to do something about the growing expense! Obamacare is fundamentally flawed! We have to reform it somehow, which we have been promising for the past decade. We have sketches of an idea of how we might could do that.” And I’m like “yeah … Obamacare is what you get when you insist on having for-profit companies stay in the middle of the healthcare system so they can figure out how to save money. You could of course have a ‘public option’ but the private companies (supposedly infinitely superior to the government) said there was absolutely no way they could compete with the Federal government …” Which is to say, the rest of the world seems to have found ways to moderate healthcare costs and the answer is Socialism.
I know a guy whose health insurance premium for next year is set to go up $30,000. My hope is that by March some deal has been worked to end the First Government Shutdown of 2026 that fixes his out-of-pocket costs. But, whomever is paying for it, a family’s health insurance should not be that expensive! Reform is needed, but the current political class isn’t going to deliver it. The best we can continue to hope for is that the government throw money at the problem until we eventually elect decent leaders.
Here’s the deal. I have fancy private enterprise health insurance. One of the local clinics has a soaring central atrium crowned by a Chihuli sculpture. I think there is a decent case to be made that art and positive aesthetics are healing, and maybe Chihuli cuts a deal for a medical facility, but the extravagance, while nice, seems wasteful. I also visit my wife where she works, providing government healthcare to low-income people. There’s no Chihuly. Just the grim cost efficiency familiar to anyone who has spent some time in government services.
There shouldn’t be two systems: one for the wealthy and one for the poor. Whether you write code or hang drywall, you ought to be able to go to a reasonably nice facility and receive the same quality of care. Why is this not the case? For much of our history, Americans have been taught that while “all men are created equal” also “not really” because someone has to pick the cotton and someone else needs to be removed to create new farmland for the settlers. This is why, so far, we can’t have “socialism” — because some people are less.
What the immigration raids are showing, though, is many, and maybe most Americans no longer hold that broken truth to be self-evident. The awareness is growing that “we are endowed by our Creator with certain inalienable rights: among these is life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” We need our political leaders to catch up with this.
But equality isn’t a concept the elites like. Opportunity for All may be great for economic prosperity but it is no way to sustain the political power of an Oligarchy that writes the checks that fund the elections.
America, we totally can have nice things open to all!
As a white guy I can often get away without worrying about racism. But then I’ll get on the phone with my step mother. As a proud black woman, she takes the Obama hatred personally. “They wouldn’t be so vicious except he’s black.”
I know enough about my country to agree. This is a racist country. We have elected a black man, but we’re in that awkward transitional phase where we feel like we’re over the worst of it but we still have racism that gets diluted year after year. Not sure if that is true or not . . . but like I said, the white majority manages not to think too often about racism.
She contrasts this to McCain in 2008 gently prying himself away from more blatant racism from some of his supporters:
The earlier video makes me squirm all the more … I wish McCain had said that Arabs are decent people too … but you can tell that his top priority is to back away from the crazy. McCain isn’t going to revel in the easy hatred of his opponent. “Obama is a decent man. You do not have to live in fear of Obama being president!”
And, I’m totally cool with a sense of humor, but us white guys, especially anyone running for public office, know there are things you just don’t joke about, especially not in front of the TV cameras. Of course nobody asks about our birth certificate. Nobody asks where we are from. That never happens. Its preposterous! Because white == American == white! Everyone knows this! The only reason an intelligent person like Mitt would crack a joke about his birth certificate to a crowd of supporters is as a nod to his “birther” supporters.
And you know why there’s a birther movement who absolutely can not believe that the president of the United States, Barack Hussein Obama, is a native-born citizen of the United States? I’ll give you a hint. Some coded, off-color humor:
Nobody asks for Romney’s birth certificate because he’s not a n*gger.
That’s the plain and simple truth, and when Romney deliberately brings it up he is race-baiting his audience.
Angela takes is more personally than I do … she is quicker to speak up. But even if the casual coded racism doesn’t bother you, what is all the more disappointing about Mitt Romney is that he is so desperate to pander to an audience that he will even pander to racism. John McCain had some character and integrity. The same has not been demonstrated by Mitt Romney.
What I have always liked about Netflix is that it was a one-stop shop that knew what kind of movies I like to watch, and could make smart suggestions. Netflix had a huge selection and could send me just about any movie I could want. The streaming was a nice addition, but you lose a lot of control that you have on the DVDs like selecting aspect ratios or subtitles. Sometimes the instant gratification is nice but what was important wasn’t a red envelope versus a streaming video, it was that one way or another, Netflix would get me movies I wanted to see.
If the streaming is such a fundamentally new business model start a new business and be done with it. Call it Streamstr. Partner with old-fogey Netflix and their stupid red envelopes so their retarded users can stream a few videos. Better yet, be the Netflix I knew and loved so many years: deliver movies I want to me. If I have to pay more for postage or more for some streaming movie that is really “hot” that is totally cool.
But what you are doing right now is some sort of bizarre unsettling brand seppuku. Why is such a great company working so hard to come up with new and innovative ways to scare away its loyal customers?
Netflix used to be about people watching movies. End of story. Movies. Movies. Movies. Its not about picking the winner between VHS and Beta, its about your customers and their love of movies and about your love of getting the movies to your customers. No nonsense, no bull, no false choices. And now? You’re tossing that advantage aside, and I am just as well served by your competitors.
Making the experience more complex for your customers is just plain dumb. =(
Good luck with your brave new spin-off model. It was a nice ride while it lasted.
Several years ago I watched a Japanese film titled “Unagi” which is the Japanese word for “eel.” The film was one of those 1960s-type free-form free-spirit no-plot-really affairs, where the protagonist one day comes home early to find a guy schtuffing his wife, murders his wife and her lover, then reports himself to the police. He serves his time as a model prisoner, and although prisoners are not allowed to have pets, he was allowed to feed the eel in the prison pond, and the warden gave him the eel to take home with him at the end of his sentence.
That is the beginning of the movie. First five minutes or so. After that, there’s not much plot. At least, not that I recall. The movie then lingers on a bunch of folks in his town who don’t have much going on. But the protagonist, Yamashita, did leave a quote I still adore:
“Nobody knows your father, but you’re still a fantastic eel.”
“If we could gather all the electric eels from around the world we would be able to light up an unimaginably large Christmas tree.”
Yes! Exactly what I was thinking. (Well, not really, but far more enchanting than my whimsical musing regarding the feasibility of electric eels as an alternative energy source.)
Three laps around Prospect Park with a weaker headwind on the uphill, then I stopped for groceries and fit two gallons of milk into the bicycle basket, which made steering sluggish. Afterwards I watched “Letters from Iwo Jima” which was really neat because it tells a story from World War II in which the viewer’s empathy is given to the enemy.
2.75h Letters from Iwo Jima
Monday, February 22
Maker’s Schedule, Manager’s Schedule — Insight into why engineers dislike meetings, and the cultural difference between “makers” and managers regarding meetings.
Pushups: 40
Tuesday, February 23
I kept waking up through the night, which is unusual for me. There is a fair amount of tension at work and other open questions in my life, so I am thinking the subconscious is unusually bothered right now. I woke up dreaming that I was at a party gorging on a smorgasbord of delicious, sweet, and colorful home-made baked goods. I have had these sorts of dreams lately: on another occasion we were at some legendary restaurant and after the feast of dinner I was eager for dessert, but I woke up before dessert.
At any rate, flex hours are a blessing for productivity: if someone has a rough night they can sleep in a bit and just get a late start, rather than taking a sick day. But throughout the morning I felt hung over.
In the evening I made it to my fisrt NYC Yelp event: tacos at The Loading Dock. I made two new acquaintances while enjoying some tasty tacos and free beer. Unfortunately, Mei couldn’t make it.
Wednesday, February 24
I “shipped” a nice feature for our systems management software at work, which will make it easier to request server reboots and other services from our data centers. I then set about coordinating how to deploy the feature. In the evening I did laundry, and watched TV while folding.
Pushups: 35 + 40 + 25
1h Daily Show
1h Colbert Report
Friday, February 26
Due to the snow storm, we didn’t go out as we might have, ordering in some food instead.
Saturday, February 27
After brunch, we spent some time at the Library, but then hustled home so Mei could get in touch with her family as we watched the would-be tsunami roll into Hawaii. Later in the evening we went to see “Invictus” which is an uplifting retelling of how Nelson Mandela won the Rugby World Cup, with a little help from Matt Damon. Afterwards, we stumbled upon a French Bistro type place, where Mei had tartar, I had sausages and beers, we both had dessert, and together we enjoyed a badly needed night out.
I got up before Mei-Lin to, among other things, make her breakfast. She let me nap afterwards as she, among other things, baked me an apple pie. I dropped her off at work in the evening for what was otherwise a really nice romantic holiday together.
1.5h Daily Show
0.5h John Oliver’s New York Stand-Up
Monday, February 15
The orthodontist is keen to finish my oral infrastructure project before two years has elapsed. He mentioned a desire to change my lower band, but that for my comfort he would wait until next time. I said I could go for it. He babbled with glee, “okay, if you insist I torture you . . . but if it hurts you forget you know me,” and then rambled on about what material the band was made of and how that had a memory so it wasn’t so bad, and words like anterior and other stuff that means he’s a huge orthodontics geek. I can’t tell half the stuff he’s saying but he says it with a sort of joy that makes me trust him, because I too, know the joy of impassioned geekery.
After driving Mei to work in the evening I took some Aleve. This is the second time this guy has adjusted my teeth and I feel it afterward where I didn’t feel it with the prior orthodontist. Since he’s a geeky man I just assume he is pushing my comfort zone to yield results, whereas the nice lady in San Francisco wanted to help me avoid discomfort.
0.25h Aqua Teen Hunger Force
1.75h Inch’Allah Dimanche
1h Colbert Report
Tuesday, February 16
Mei gave me a toy train set today. It is a juvenile thrill even if I can’t figure out a good home for it.
Pushups: 35 + 35
Situps: 100
1.75h Reprise
1h Dirty Jobs
1h Star Trek: The Next Generation
Wednesday, February 17
I have a modest pile of unused credit cards stashed away in case I ever develop a coke habit. And since I doubt coke dealers take plastic, when I say “develop a coke habit” I mean “fund my own Internet startup-up.”
0.5h Colbert Report
1.75h Sophie Scholl: The Final Days
0.25h Aqua Teen Hunger Force
Thursday, February 18
So, LIVE Squirrelcam is occasionally entertaining but I may try to make it better. Right now one would have to tune in while I am broadcasting, and while the squirrels are doing their thing. There’s maybe ten minutes a day, really, of footage, and its in low res.
If I am silly enough to run a computer with some decent horsepower . . . not 24/7 but say during daylight hours, I’m thinking I could have the computer take a series of 30 second clips, over and over, and then we analyse those clips for squirrel activity. The analysis is the part I don’t know how to do, but I figure I can extract, say, a series of frames, and I’m pretty sure mogrify can give me the “diff” of two images, and if I can evaluate the quantity of that diff, then I know something is going on.
Splice together contiguous 30-second clips of “squirrel detected” footage and upload in hi def to YouTube.
The sup has also been talking about installing these giant, prison-like bars on the windows, “but you can open them.” Anyway, a more permanent fixture outdoors where the squirrels can look cute for the Internet without worrying about the guy inside typing away menacingly at the keyboard might be where I end up.
If I don’t just lose interest first.
After an unusually rough day at work, I watched “Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress” which was a nice enough film set during the Cultural Revolution, but in the last 40 minutes they skipped to the modern day and revealed the village was to be flooded for the Three Gorges project. Sappy sentimentality over unrequited love backed by plaintive violin music, this soft-skinned bourgeois intellectual found himself teary-eyed. It also reminded me of another movie I recently watched about the Three Gorges, “Up The Yangtze” so the idea of an ambitious young girl making her way in the world, in that case, literally up the Yangtze, was fresh in my mind.
1.75h Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress
Pushups: 30
Friday, February 19
Peddling a bike down a city street is much like paddling a canoe down a river: Watch out for the current if you don’t want to flip or crash!
Rode my bicycle over to the Post Office, then stopped by the bike store to put air in the tires. (They have a hose out front.)
Pushups: 32 + 40
Saturday, February 20
Slept in, rode down to the Tea Lounge for breakfast, then two laps around Prospect Park. The weather was nice but there was a vicious head wind on the uphill part. Took Mei-Lin out for dinner but it was late and she was too exhausted to really appreciate it.
The Lakeshore Limited stops at 6:54AM in Erie, PA. I heard a voice behind me ask a passenger “are you a US citizen?” And a moment later a warning that they have to carry their I-20 at all times or it is a $100 fine. I had been through a few checkpoints in Europe, and it seemed wrong to me that we were now at a “border crossing” within the US. I figured when they asked for my ID I would first ask for their ID. They asked the guy next to me.
“He’s sleeping,” I offered. He took the coat off his head and rummaged through his papers. He was born in New York, but he is a Mexican citizen, and he immigrated through one point, no, another. The conversation switched to Spanish. They wanted his permicion, and the agent flashed him a sample consular ID that in the dark looked to me like a Hawaii driver’s license.
“You came in as a tourist?”
“Tourist Visa’s only good for a year. Or six months.”
“Vamos con nosotros.”
The man gathered up his belongings. After a rough night sleeping on the train, he was off to a detention center, and then probably to Mexico. I told my neighbor, “I’m sorry.”
“I only asked him for the truth,” the agent replied.
“This is America?” asked the passenger behind me.
Having caught someone, they stopped checking IDs, and didn’t ask anything of me. On my way to the dining car the conductor announced that due to this last stop we were now running ten minutes behind, and would not make it up for some hours, but thanks to good weather and light traffic we would probably be in New York on time.
Monday, December 28
It is our week off together, and we decided to be tourists in New York City. Today we went to the New York Botanic Gardens in the Bronx, which is not all that interesting in the cold of winter, but I was keen on seeing their train show. This was neat: trains running through the conservatory on trestles built from wood and fashioned to resemble New York’s famous bridges, passing houses and architectural landmarks like the old Penn Station, built from plant materials.
Worth seeing once. The gardens are probably a better trip on a Summer day.
Afterwards we caught Avatar, which is definately a mind blowingly wonderful science fiction movie that will be remembered for its innovative effects. I really enjoyed it and if anyone is asking I say go ahead and spend the few bucks extra to see it in 3D and yes get there early because the first theater was sold out and we got a good place in line at the second theater because we showed up 40 minutes early.
On a Monday.
Tuesday, December 29
We got dressed up and went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I enjoyed the European realist paintings, then Mei was agog at the Samurai stuff which seemed to me like an awful lot of impressive blades that didn’t quite captivate me. Mei was enchanted that bunny ears are part of the Samurai style, since rabbits symbolize longevity and cunning.
After that we wandered through the Chinese calligraphy, the writer’s garden which got me thinking that some ferns and hanging plants could really spruce up the home office, then on through the American stuff, which was mostly colonial furniture and some excellent Tiffany mosaics. It seemed interesting to me that the Samurai exhibition had a lot of Japanese tourists, the Chinese calligraphy attracted Chinese people, and there was a group of Indians checking out the Jain temple.
And America is represented by Tiffany mosaics.
Afterwards Mei treated me to a meal at Dean and Delucca, where she grabbed some cupcakes to bring home.
Wednesday, December 30
In the morning we hit up Ikea for a bed frame, and once that was wedged into the car, we took the long way around Brooklyn to the Bed Bath and Beyond so Mei could purchase a food processor. We stopped along the way at a place that Google thought was called VCS Hobbies but turned out to be a storefront for Restaurant Point-of-Sale computer systems. They buzzed me in to their office and I asked if this was supposed to be a hobby shop. Another lady came forward and asked which scale, and then explained that they were pretty much sold out of anything except N, due to the holidays, but they could take my information.
Not much for browsing, I guess. It seemed like a nimble, family run enterprise keen to make money any way they could, and really, there’d probably a lot more money in restaurant POS systems. Still, it is weird for a hobby shop to be on the down-low.
Thursday, December 31
New Years Eve! We watched the ball drop in Times Square from our sofa in Brooklyn. Instead of standing like cattle for hours in the cold without access to restrooms, I made Mei some hot chocolate.
Friday, January 1
We brunched at a French place over on That Street Where I Bought the Bike. Pain Perdu, oh la la!
We bought food, and Mei made a double batch of chicken chili.
Saturday, January 2
Mei baked cookies, and I helped get the place together, trekking out for veggies to go with the cheese plate and alcohol. In the evening, some neighbors and friends who braved the really cold outside came by and there was much noshing on chicken chili, hot apple cider, chocolate chip cookies, ginger snaps, cheese and veggies. It was a smallish gathering but our very first Brooklyn party worked out well.
I don’t narrate my life any more, whether for good or for ill. Well, maybe . . . I should try a weekly update. This has been working well at work, anyway.
Saturday, 21 November
On Friday I took Mei out to dinner, since we were going to not see each other for most of a week. We went to an Indian place up near the Kips Bay theater, where we then saw “Where the Wild Things Are”. I think the first time I saw that book I was impressed with its style, and so my Mom thought I liked the story and read it to me a bunch, but I always thought Max was kind of a spoiled brat. At the end of the movie I mumbled to Mei, “if my son pulls that crap he is not getting any chocolate cake.” When asked if he’d get any dinner, I responded that I wasn’t so sure. I wonder if the kid might have some blood sugar issues such that missing dinner may be a bad move.
Saturday morning, Mei was up early to go to work. I slept in a bit, and treated myself to brunch at Teddy’s, which served me two eggs, fried potatoes, Canadian bacon, rye toast, fruit salad, orange juice and coffee for $8.25. Now, Cheryl’s has some tastier food, so I’ll take Mei over there, but if it is just me, I stick with the cheaper, hearty meal.
I went home, washed the dishes and relaxed a bit, until around 1400 when I rode up to Penn Station to catch the 3:45 to Chicago. Now, a plane would have been faster and cheaper, but now that I live in New York, I can “afford” the relative luxury of a train ride home. The train was pretty full, and a guy named Don sat next to me. I got the modem working on my laptop and caught up somewhat on Internet reading. At Albany they took our engine off the train and shunted a series of cars from Boston onto the front. This was exciting to me, so I shot some dark, blurry video from the passenger area.
I treated myself to dinner in the dining car. Lamb shank, half a bottle of wine, dessert, coffee, and conversation with a cute college couple who were switching to the California Zephyr in Chicago, arriving in Emeryville on Tuesday to enjoy Thanksgiving in Santa Cruz. Robin the Film major and Miru the Art History major. They’re both minoring in Making a Living.
Despite ample legroom and a glass of Scotch from the Cafe car, I tossed and turned a great deal. (more…)
The Red Vic is possibly my favorite funky little movie house in San Francisco. And in their recent e-mail they just pour it on:
The Red Vic Has Gone Solar: OK, so you know about our organic popcorn served in wooden popcorn bowls and that we serve our (fair trade) coffee in mugs instead of disposable paper cups. In fact, we have done so ever since opening in 1980 – we were “green-minded” before the term even existed! (Not to mention the fact that we have washed a zillion dishes since then). We also use eco-friendly cleaning products and this calendar is printed on recycled paper with soy-based ink. Well, thanks to our fabulous landlord we have now gone solar with the assistance of Sunlight Electric (http://sunlightelectric.com/). There is an impressive array of solar panels on our roof and our electric meter is now running backward. Our solar panels are the equivalent of 21,962 pounds of CO2 not emitted per year, or equal to planting 3 acres of trees. We fortunately share our building with like-minded businesses; the Alembic is all about the local, sustainable slow-food scene and Escape From New York Pizza has a robust composting program. So, on your next visit to the Red Vic, as you munch away on popcorn in your wooden bowl and take a sip from a ceramic mug of coffee, you can also give a thought to the power of the sun and to communities working together – if you are not too engrossed in the movie that is!
I just like that little bit enough to share. Now when I sit in one of their cozy chairs, I can watch the movie using solar power. (I guess they run the meter forward at night, though, so probably it’ll be utility coal power for the movie but you know, its the overall impact that counts.)
Today I took myself out to a movie. I couldn’t find anyone else who was interested in “The Glamorous Life of Sachiko Hanai” at the Red Vic. But now I know the answer to the question of what might happen if a Tokyo call girl gets shot in the forehead, giving her super intellectual powers, and then finds in her possession the cloned trigger finger of George W Bush, and is thus chased by North Korean agents looking to control a Russo-Uzbek doomsday device. I’m not sure if it is a porno or a porn parody, but especially the early part of the movie involves excessive quantities of semen. For that reason I am glad that I was shy about asking friends to go see it. This movie is wrong in so many ways that I see why it has become a cult classic.
If you live in San Francisco and possess a sufficiently perverse sense of humor and politics, its run at the Red Vic concludes tomorrow Monday August 20, with showings at 7:15pm and 9:15pm.
I read about this movie in “The Week” and then saw an ad for the trailer on my very own website. I am totally looking forward to this movie:
Last year I read Imperial Life in the Emerald City after seeing Rajiv Chandrasekaran on “The Daily Show” . . . someone saw me reading it on the train and inquired. “It reads like a Vonnegut novel,” I replied.
What I read in “The Week” is that this film is less Michael Moore-style polemic and more along the lines of people involved telling their stories as to how we managed to screw things up, over and over, in the worst ways possible. This is exactly how Chandrasekaran’s novel goes, but with a sort of wry feel, which yes, reminds me of Kurt Vonnegut.
So, I am catching up with all sorts of things these days, and there is the constant threat that I may return to full-time work at any moment. Those with an appetite for autobiographical detail may like to know that I have just posted several back-dated entries from last month, covering my road trip out to Pueblo, CO, where I visited Dad and his family. URLs for the voyeuristic:
That’s what I have written up so far . . . as a spoiler: I made it to Pueblo just fine, replaced the starter myself, I bought a new camera, we celebrated Gwen’s birthday, had some quality time, and then since I couldn’t spend enough time in Pueblo, I took Dad back to San Francisco with me, where he spent a week that we both enjoyed a great deal. I dropped him off in Emeryville and he took the train home. Last Wednesday I went with a friend to see the awesome movie “The Valet” and on the way to the movie I got a call from Dad that he had driven the car to Wal*Mart, which had been a scary ride for Gwen, but proof that he could help drive on their own road trip to Chicago later this month.
At any rate, I hope to write a bit more about these things, but I make no promises. Along the way, I am still uploading pictures, so keep an eye on Flickr, and if the remainder of the trip interests you, you can skim over the “Colorado Road Trip April, 2007” collection.
I woke up early to move the car for street cleaning, then I joined my friend for breakfast at a local favorite restaurant of hers. I had no particular agenda for sight-seeing in Long Beach, though Lorah had said nice things about the Queen Mary. It just so happened that my friend has a shop on board the Queen Mary, so we spent the morning poking around the ship, and I discovered that my old-camera-that-had-been-lent-back-to-me-after-I-lost-my-newer-camera was just about completely dead. (Oh darn.)
Next, we visited the Korean Friendship Bell, a bronze bell in a beautifully-painted pagoda overlooking the Pacific, which Korea gave us for the Bicentennial. There is a youth hostel next door, which I would check out next time I may decide to visit Long Beach, if I did not already have accommodation. We drove further along the coast, visiting the Wayfarer’s Chapel, which is a beautiful glass church on the coast, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. We arrived during a wedding, as this is a very popular venue for weddings, so we couldn’t enter the chapel, and the lady at the visitor’s center advised that visits are best planned for odd hours–11am, 1pm, 3pm–since weddings are scheduled on even hours.
My original plan had been to take off in the evening and drive about four hours to Las Vegas, and crash at either of two youth hostels I had found online, or perhaps a hotel room, since accommodations are cheaper in Vegas during the week. But I changed my plans to join my friend for a late night of clubbing in Hollywood. Having no particular agenda and an evening to kill, we moseyed further along the coast, and my friend decided to give Santa Monica a shot. We found a parking spot near the beach, and noticed a movie theater. We were just in time to catch “The Namesake” which is a movie we had both wanted to see, and which we both enjoyed.
Afterwards we strolled along the beach, catching the sunset. We then embarked upon several hours of groovy carousing in the Southern California style.
