Damn

Miranda got the boot on SYTYCD. The second-to-last of the MMMs. I'm disappointed. She's really good. Must've been too many brunettes, breaking up the brunette vote (it happens in shows like this). But she was one of the best dancers, so her loss was a real bring-down. The gal who coasted through last weekend, Ryan, got a total gimmie -- as the only blonde, that gives her an edge, relative to the sea of brunettes this season. She didn't even get on the chopping block this go'round. Alas, poor Miranda. Hopefully the exposure on the show will reap rewards for her, dancewise.

SYTYCD

I'm sufficiently recovered from the aesthetic shellshock I suffered from Malick's "The Tree of Life" to be able to comment on last night's "So You Think You Can Dance?" -- which should be a tough elimination, since there were a lot of great performances:

Miranda and Robert

I liked this one, thought Miranda did a great job, and Robert actually blended well in the role, even though he was in an unfamiliar element.

Melanie and Marko

I wasn't fond of Melanie's costume this go'round, and "lyrical hip-hop" feels like an oxymoron, but she and Marko did their usual awesome best. They are both such great dancers and performers, they own everything they do, so I hope they have enough of a fan base to advance.

While my MMMs did their typical beastly best, performing very well, but I was surprised at how strong some of the other pairs were -- my sense is that they were really trying to bring it to compete with the MMMs.

Caitlynn and Mitchell

Mitchell is one of the strongest of the male dancers, so he's kind of overshadowed Caitlynn, in my estimation, but she owned that samba, banged out a great dance, with Mitchell doing his usual great work.

Clarice and Jess

Clarice is one of the prettiest of the dancers, if not one of the best, but this piece served her incredibly well (as did the fantastic costuming), and Jess owned this number. I think he outperformed all of the guys in this one -- he didn't outdance all the guys, but he definitely outperformed them, just ate up the stage.

Even Ryan and Ricky had a good routine. I don't think Ryan is one of the strongest dancers in the group, but she had a good routine, and is likely to not get axed.

I think this episode was all about the performances -- my sense is that the dancers who got the good fortune to get good dances/choreography will have the best chance of advancing.

The ones I didn't list are likely the ones in danger, because I didn't think their performances were quite at the level of the above ones, and, so, are likely threatened when it comes to voting. We'll see how it goes. I actually voted online a few times, since it's free, and I wanted some of my favorites to get a few votes.

Treed

I saw Terrence Malick's "The Tree of Life" after work today. As ever, Malick's style of moviemaking lends itself to parody, while at the same time being full of memorable, evocative images. His montage-with-voiceover and assorted juxtapositions of images show a love of the power of film to move an audience with arresting images, his narrative is, as ever, elusive. There is a story at the heart of the movie, but Malick indulges his jones for memorable angles and images and his non-linear style of filmcraft makes it an elliptical exercise. Only a director/producer/writer of his stature can get away with being able to make a movie the way he does. Malick is a kind of visual poet--he weaves poetry in his imagery, but like poets that I know (and I've known my share), he is also pretentious, and that comes through, despite the enormity and epic nature of the film. There is a strong strand of humanity in the work that binds it like glue, the sense of frailty and limitation of human mortality and the tininess of our lives in the grand and cosmic scheme of things (and, to his credit, Malick actually manages both minute focus and literally interstellar gaze with similar ease). But I felt like a lot of the epic posturing in it would have been done away with and that the movie was strongest when it was focused on the O'Brien family. Faced with so much grandiosity, the brain longs for some temporal touchstones, and the family at the center of it, the authoritarian failure of a man played by Brad Pitt, his long-suffering but ultimately emotionally accessible wife, and their three boys, one of whom dies (I am presuming in Vietnam, judging from the time period of the movie, and that the boy was 19 when he died -- although the manner of the delivery of this message doesn't fit with a military death, the timing would certainly be right). The loss of the brother is keenly felt, without being mawkish or sentimental -- despite the Baby Boomer touchpoints of this 50s family in the South, there is authentic emotion run through the piece, and the sweet sensitivity of the lost son, who is an artist/musician (or a nascent one -- he's mostly a ghost in the memory of Sean Penn's character, grown-up Jack), there is just pain riven throughout his presence that, as a father, couldn't help but move me. Without seeing his fate (except to know that he died), you feel very strongly the sense of loss through his big brother's eyes, and in the eyes of the parents (even though Pitt's character is a conflicted shit, with retrograde notions of patriarchal propriety coupled with genuine love for his sons). Leaving the movie, having been dunked in Malick's directorial vision once again, absolutely everything around me resonated visually, from ripples in the lake water catching a pinkish glow from a setting sun, to the skyscrapers, to the beachgoers, and the traffic. Everything. Malick's power as a filmmaker (if not as a storyteller) is that great that it hits you that way.

I'm glad I saw it on the big screen, although it's hard to say if I liked it, exactly. It's a movie, and it moved me, for sure, but whether that movement was wrought by the content of the film or Malick's adroit use of imagery, I can't exactly say. I certainly won't forget it, even as I feel like Malick can all too easily be parodied as a moviemaker, his signature style is ripe for parody. Unlike, say, "The Thin Red Line," which is, itself, not necessarily an easy movie to watch, I think "The Tree of Life" is a movie that I enjoyed, but don't necessarily feel the need to see again. My chest is tight at the thought of doing so, and that makes me wonder if Malick succeeded in his endeavor, to prompt such an emotional response in me, that spirit of the sublime. Malick definitely knows how to make movies that are works of art, and this one qualifies in that regard, even though the journey it takes you on is a harrowing one, leaving you emotionally spent -- it's a journey that is not for the faint of heart, nor the heartless.

Pride

I was pleased that, despite the hate crime shitbirds who slashed the tires on 51 of the Pride Parade floats, the organizers managed to get all the floats going, and there was a record turnout of over 750,000 this year. I hope they're able to find who did it. This is the first time I've ever heard of something like that happening, at least on that kind of scale.

I get kind of irked by the human beatbox on Electric Company. What is this, 1985? C'mon. It bugs me to see a kid doing beatboxing. Maybe it's a case of everything old being new again or something? I dunno.

Moment of pathos tonight, as B1 asked me what a "phony" was. He had seen it said on a show, asked me what it was. There was something sweet in my 9-year-old not knowing what that was. I explained it to him. B1 is the furthest thing from a phony; he's true blue. Very sweet.

CK 1

I got the DVD for the first season of Louis CK's show, "Louie." It's so darkly funny, it slays me. I watched about half the first season before FX was pulled from my cable for whatever reason, so I missed the second half of it, but watching the episodes I had seen before again had me laughing again...



Bahah! Not every episode was funny front to back, but the stuff that was funny really made me laugh.

Sunny Day

Had the boys most of today. Took them out with their scooters, then, later, out for some kickball/soccer. Lovely summer day, sunny-but-mild. Very pleasant.

Exene's sister is in town, had the pleasure of chauffeuring Exene to Wisconsin for a triathlon -- that is a duty I don't miss one bit, lemme tellya. She's going to be in town for several days, which'll be nice -- she'll be watching the boys for those days, which they'll love. They really dig her, and she's nice, seems to enjoy her time with her nephews, so it's good all around.

This was also the weekend of Summerfest and the Pride Parade (and by the look of it, a home game with the Cubs), so the city was super-packed (more so with the good weather bringing the suburbanites in like plagues of locusts). Anyway, the Pride Parade is fun, but it's not worth trekking up there with the boys at this point. Back in the 90s, when Exene and I lived right along the route and could simply step out of our building and sit curbside to watch the spectacle and catch all the throws, that was one thing -- but these days, it's more of a haul. Maybe next year. It's fun. And this year would've been especially raucous, what with the whole New York gay marriage thing going down. I'm sure the homophobes and Christianists are going to be going apeshit over this latest fracas, but what don't they go apeshit about?

Anyway, I've got a busy week ahead of me, and am thinking about catching "The Tree of Life" this week. I also may work in a trip to the Museum of Contemporary Art, which I haven't been to in a number of years. That should be fun/amusing (depends on what exhibits they have). I also need to get busy this week with finding homes for some of my books. I've been sidetracked from that for a month or so, dealing with other stuff, but I'm getting my feet under me again, schedule-wise, and will get busy with that.

Off to run a few errands, restock and resupply with groceries and what-not. Oh, and I was a super-trooper and did my laundry this morning (and folded all of it but the socks, which I've put off for the moment, as it involves me sorting through three different sizes: me, B1, and B2; mine are easy enough to tell, but the boys are kind of a jumble, sockwise, so I have to methodically go through all of that).

B2 dug this shirt, said "Daddy, cool shirt. I like it!"

SYT

Some of my favorite performances from last week:

Melanie and Marko

Miranda and Robert

This Broadway-style one made cool use of a minimalist prop, which I think worked for it better than most of the Broadway ones they do...

Ashley and Chris

MIP

I saw "Midnight In Paris" again last night, figuring I'd catch it on the big screen a last time before it moved to DVD-land. I was pleased to see as many people (or more) there as when I first saw it. It was as entertaining as the first time. A good movie. It was fun to study the movie more this time around. I think Woody Allen is an ass man -- there are a number of ass shots of the various actresses in the movie, where the camera just kinda hangs there, ogling their asses. Enough to make me think "I think he's an ass man." But the movie holds up as well or better on a repeat viewing, I was pleased to see.

Next up on my movie docket is catching Malick's "Tree of Life."

What else? I'm gonna take advantage of the good weather to do some biking, and will stop by a store or two for some supplies for stuff I'm working on. I also want to make a jaunt down to a bookstore, something I haven't done in awhile, but I feel the need to do so, to recharge my brain a bit.

I'm in a pretty good mood, honestly. Just peaceful.

Foul!

I don't agree with the first round of eliminations on SYTYCD (they did a double round of eliminations tonight). Ryan was kept on, and they axed Melissa and Iveta. Okay, Melissa wasn't at the level of the others, so her getting axed made some sense. But Ryan should've gone with her. They shouldn't have ditched Iveta already. That kinda stunk. I was glad to see Melanie and Miranda continue, but figured they were safe, anyway. I agreed with their choices with the guys.

So You Think...

This week's SYTYCD was really good; they have a lot of really good dancers, just all-around solid people. Even the hip-hoppers are really adaptable and top-notch.

One of my favorite couples at the moment is Melanie and Marko...



That's from last week's episode. Melanie is pretty stocky, but has incredible dancing skill, great moves (she outdid herself on tonight's episode, but the above is representative).

I also like Miranda, hope she advances. We'll see.

One amusingly subversive thing they have in SYTYCD are all of the pairings where white girls dance with black boys and/or vice versa. I'm sure there are some retrograde nooks of the country where that can still rankle. You'd think we'd be beyond that in the 21st century, but noooo....

Anyway, good episode tonight. Great dancers, good performances. Even the Broadway one was interesting (typically, I loathe the Broadway ones, just because they're so stagey, but this one was artfully done).

Coolness

The righteous storms that blew through here last night mercifully lowered the temps a bit, making it less sweltering. I was glad to be able to bike to and from work without getting caught in the stormage. Plus, since it was cool and wannabe stormy, the shore wasn't packed. Saw a Latina with a perfect Gucci logo tattooed on her shoulder, with "Gucci" over it, just for added clarity.

Something else I was going to write, but I'm having blognesia at the moment. I'm thinking of catching "Midnight in Paris" again; it's rare for me to catch a movie twice on the big-screen, but I kinda feel the need to with this one, since it was such a good effort. Beats catching "Green Lantern." Baha!

Saw a thing today that talked about how, increasingly, the notion of multiverses is increasingly gaining currency among physicists. Cool stuff. Infinite possibilities in every moment, all of that stuff.

"Still Life."

Coolio

Ahh, the super installed my air conditioning, at last. Since it's a frickin' hot day, the timing couldn't be better (and since my sweat line is 74 degrees and up, it's not hard to cool off). Good bike ride home -- surprisingly, it wasn't too packed at the lake shore and the beach, but maybe because it's only Tuesday? Whatever the case, it was a breezy ride home.

Of course, as I cruised the fleshfest that is Bikini Boulevard, I couldn't help but notice that not having a tattoo puts one in a distinct minority, increasingly. I mean, this morning, on the elevator in, these two otherwise very Midwestern gals were amicably talking, and as they left the elevator, I saw that one had a star tattoo right at the nape of her neck, only visible because she had her hair up in a ponytail. Of course, a very safe spot, since she just has to let her hair down and it's covered, but all the same, kind of a surprise with somebody in professional attire, but then again, far more common than is once was. What might've been shocking in 1955 is commonplace in 2011.

Speaking of shocking and commonplace, I have seen a footwear trend that is ghastly and dismal (and I've seen reports of it in the South and on the East Coast, too). Bootie Sandals? Sandal Booties? I have taken to calling them "Floopsandals" because they look ridiculous, like somebody's wearing plucked Fraggles on their feet. These are somewhat representative, although I've seen far worse examples streetside...

Notice how the model has her feet up? It's because when a gal stands up with them, the Floopenfabrik bunches up at her ankles, created the Fraggle-like Floopeneffekt.

A still photograph is not enough to convey the sheer lameness of these sandals. I call'em Floopsandals because when one walks in these, it creates a kind of "flooping" motion, as the gratuitous fabric kinda flutters around. What might've worked with an 80s woman's bootie looks ridiculous with these sandals. This is the most dire fashion trend since UGG Boots. Seriously, you won't be able to miss the Floopsandals when they turn up in your neck of the woods, just because the monumental lameness of them just catches you offguard. These are so lame they make the gladiator sandals of the year or so before seem respectable and restrained by comparison. Beware the Floopsandal!

Keeping My Cool

I was irked, as my a/c still hadn't been installed; it's been almost two weeks. I gave the building management some time, figuring "They must be really busy" last week, and with the temperature drops, I would "weather" (ar ar) the absence of the a/c, but it's warming up again, and so I went downstairs to find out what the deal was, whether they'd lost my form, misplaced my check, or what. Anyway, I was fortunate that somebody was down there, although the guy was "busy" with two comely chickies, one of whom talked almost nonstop. He was a skinny, balding, pale geeky kinda guy, so I thought "Shit, this is going to be  awhile." So, I waited for a few minutes, hoping for the chatty gal to pause in her talking to take a breath, or at least for the guy to interrupt her to ask me what I needed. I wasn't going to be rude, I just waited until it was clear that, whatever these gals wanted or were doing (and I'm sure it was somehow apartment-related, from what they were jabbering about), it had basically been attended to. I piped up, asked the guy what the deal was with my a/c, and he looked it up. Both gals were good-looking in that bland, midwestern way. Well, one was; the other wasn't so great facewise, but had a really nice body. The talkie one had torn an ACL while skiing, and was talking about all she had to go through with that, and what she'd have to go through once she got the cast/splint removed (casts are looking so high-tech these days, it's hard to tell a cast from a splint, but this thing was like for her whole leg). I thought "Yeah, you'll have to be shaving that leg, too, when you get that thing off." *shudder* Anyway, the other gal looked kind of like a particular 70s actor, whose name eludes me at the moment. Tom Atkins. Yeah. That's who she looked like (truly), with bleached blonde hair. But her body was magnificent. The guy finally dredged up the forms, and it turned out that they has screwed up -- they had processed my form, cashed the check, and somebody had cleared the form like the job had already been done. The guy apologized, and I didn't lose my cool, although I was miffed. I left the guy with the chicks and went on my way. They're supposed to install it today. If they don't this time, I'll be pissed.

Of course, me being me, I wondered which if the two gals I would have gone after, as a kind of philosophical man-problem -- the chatterer was genuinely good-looking (looked like a blend of Virginia Madsen and Nicole Kidman), and seemed intelligent, outgoing, and personable. But she truly never stopped talking; like, the entire time I was there, she was talking; I honestly don't know how she breathed. That's like the near-equivalent of someone with an annoying laugh -- it's one of those things where you think "Could I put up with that for long?" The gal with the killer body was, of necessity, quieter (she did get a few words in edgewise, in the monologue tsunami going on), so her personality wasn't nearly as apparent as the more talkative one. But then, the quiet one likely didn't have to talk much -- her assets were immediately apparent. The proper Dave-answer, of course, is "Both."

(Don't worry, Joel Grey didn't harm Captain Janeway; he just employed a technique to induce an orgasm in a woman by way of nerves in her wrist)

Snicker

Amusing exchange between these two 20-something artgals on the bus (one of whom looked kinda like Kevin Bacon's baby sister, if he even has one; the other one looked kinda like Jason Segel, if he was a girl):

Bacon: We should go.
Segel: I don't do cosplay.
Bacon: I could go as Zelda.
Segel: Then I'd be Link. That would rock!
Bacon: Thought you didn't do cosplay.
Segel: I'd go if you went. It'd be a performance piece.
Bacon: Huh.
Segel: You know who I had a huge crush on, like when I was younger?
Bacon: Who?
Segel: Sean Connery.
Bacon: Yeah?
Segel: I mean, like before he was all leather handbag-faced. Way too much tanning. But everybody would make fun of me for my crush on Sean Connery.
Bacon: Huh. I liked Jimmy Stewart.
Segel: Yeah, Jimmy Stewart was like nice, but he could also be a badass.
Bacon: One time, I had a sore throat, and I sounded like Jimmy Stewart.
Segel: Wow. You know who else I like?
Bacon: Who?
Segel: Bill Bixby. But, like, nobody knows who he is, past a certain age. He was in 'The Incredible Hulk.'
Bacon: (grunts)
Segel: But I like him from "The Courtship of Eddie's Father." Like from that era.
Bacon: Wow.

That's all I heard, as I was getting off the bus. But I was amused. I hadn't thought about Bill Bixby since my childhood in the 70s, and these gals were at least 20 years from being born. Let alone them thinking about Jimmy Stewart and Sean Connery. It was amusing.

Nom!

My mushroom risotto came out great! I wolfed it down...

I've got enough left over for days. Obviously, risotto's best on that initial serving, but ah, well; I'm happy to eat it as a leftover. Especially this one, which was just so good.

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

I baked a key lime pie this morning...

It came out nice, as you can see. It's hard to jazz up a photograph of a key lime pie, so I went in close with it. Those are white chocolate shavings I put on the top of it, which go well with it.

I'm going to make a mushroom risotto this evening, use up some of those oyster and shiitake mushrooms I bought yesterday. Don't worry, I'll take pix of that, too. Baha!

I took the boys out to one of the parks today, so they could get some playtime/outside time in. B2 was pretty feisty today, as he often gets when he's tired -- he wore himself out chasing his big brother, was conking out.

I took advantage of the relative quiet to sort laundry; I still need to clean up the living room, too. Busy busy busy.

Right now I'm watching USA v. Jamaica in the soccer quarterfinals. Fairly sloppy game at the moment.

Saturdave

Blimp over the city today; B1 is loving that. Nice weather today, good stuff. I dropped by the local farmer's market and got some good stuff...

And made a righteous omelet using said components. Nom!

I biked downtown and back. I usually avoid biking along the lake shore on the weekend, because it's pretty busy, but it was mid-morning, so while it was busy, it wasn't crazy-busy. Good to see everybody out and enjoying themselves, and the weather was perfect. I snapped some shots with my camera, although nothing was jumping out at me today, despite the good light.

Hard to believe it's Father's Day tomorrow; my own father died this year. We had a terrible relationship -- my parenting success is based on doing the opposite he did with me, and it's worked out well with my boys.

Weekend Warrior

Work was busy today. Edited edited edited. What'd I do? I edited! It's what I do!

Bike ride home was festive -- the wonderful weather (and today was glorious -- great light, cool temperatures, sunny and lovely clouds) brought everybody out to the lake, so there were plenty of folks about. Peacefest was being waged in part of the park, which leveled a marijuana smog layer throughout the park. I ran into Exene in the lobby, wearing her triathlon racing gear, and the pot smoke had definitely leached into her racing jacket, which was amusing. She said "All I did was bike through the smoke." and I said "Yeah, that wicking fabric must've just soaked that right up." Amusing.

I was going to go bike to run some errands, but the city's crowded with suburbanites out to flock to the lakeshore; in times like these, we urban locals just hunker down and let the hordes do their thing. It's just easier. That's the one drawback to living in the city -- in summer, the 708ers just come in droves (calling them 708ers is a willful anachronism of mine, since I remember when there were only two area codes for Chicago -- and the 708 area code was for the suburbanites, hence the term).

I'm going to work on one of the books this weekend, at long last. I've had it stewing in my head for awhile, but am going to dive in on that, see how that goes. Once I begin, it'll just go.

I want to get a starter tennis racquet for B1; I think he'll enjoy the game. B2 will want to play, but he's too young -- he gets to be ball boy, which I'm sure he'll hate. The key'll be getting the racquets and for B2 NOT to try to bonk his brother with'em. Trust me, I know this dance.

Mmm, bucket o' crayons!

Strong Performances

I am amused, every time I see Mark Strong in the role of another villain. He is making a killing (so to speak) as a movie villain. I first remember him as Pinbacker in "Sunshine" -- the villain who didn't need to be in the movie. But despite that, Strong's good delivery made him memorable. Then I remember seeing him as Lord Blackwood in "Sherlock Holmes," and was like "Wasn't that the same guy who was Pinbacker?" and, yes, it was, and he was entertaining in that role, too. Then I was him as Frank D'Amico in "Kick-Ass," a role he nailed. Now, most recently, I see he's Sinestro in the new "Green Lantern" flick. Perfect choice. Strong is good in those roles -- he's kind of the Basil Rathbone of this century, a go-to guy for villainy.

Dancers

Alright, I'm back. SYTYCD was good as ever. Lots of great dancers, as ever. I am particularly amused by Lithuanian ballroom dancer, Iveta Lukosiute, who, at 30 years of age, is staggeringly dancer-old to be on the show, although she's very, very good. I liked the juicy Miranda Maleski and Missy Morelli and Melanie Moore (so many M's -- I'll call'em the MMMMMMs), who were all very good, some of the "Beasts" as they are calling them (is this a new thing?) -- the term they call the dancing chicks who apparently have it all, in terms of skill, athleticism, performance chops, technique, showmanship. There seem to be a lot of Hip-Hop dancers among the guys, although everybody seems very good, adaptable, all of that.

Iveta Lukosiute, the Lithuanian Hammer.

Miranda Maleski, one of the MMMs.

Dis-n-Dat

Looks like the next couple o' days are gonna be rainy, but it can't rain all the time, right?

I set up some online bill pay stuff, which is pretty great, I will admit. Chicago's postal service is legendarily hit-or-miss, so it's nice to know that I can bypass that by paying bills online. I'll likely fold everything I pay into that, just for the sake of convenience and reliability.

There was a strip of road that was flooded, and cars kept blasting through it at high speed, showering the sidewalk. *SHHHHHPLASH* What was kind of amusing to me was how people kept trying to brave it. Total crapshoot! *SHHHHPLASH*

Whoops! SYTYCD is on! I keep forgetting that it's on Wednesdays!

Onward

Just did the laundry this morning; I always try to get it done in the early morning hours, because it's cooler out, and nobody else is (usually) up, so I'm not competing with everybody else for the machines.

I've been having odd and complicated/strange/disturbing dreams of late. Like one had me in this Colonial home that had been on-site of some Revolutionary War battle, and there were these Gypsy-like folks living there, now, and they were letting people tour the house, but there was a very palpable sensation of haunting about the place, this sense of something else being there. Ghosts and what-not. The vibe was very clear and, since the place was close to a battlefield, there was plenty of emotional weight about the area. Trippy dream.

Midmorning in Chicago

I'm still musing about that movie. Beautiful morning today, mild and sunny, cool and pleasant. There's another art fair in town, and I might take the boys to that, too, see if there's anything worth seeing.

There are other thoughts percolating in my head. I'll pour'em out when they're ready, after cooking in my cranium awhile.

Midnight in Paris, Afternoon in Chicago

So, I enjoyed Woody Allen's latest, "Midnight in Paris." I am neither a fan nor a foe of his movies. I like some of them well enough, others, not so much, but it all kind of balances out. Anyway, I liked the movie, which followed Owen Wilson as Gil, entranced by Paris on the eve of his marriage to Rachel McAdams, yearning to abandon his (apparently highly-successful yet empty) screenwriting career for novel-writing in Paris. One line that had me scoffing a bit, when Gil scoffed about screenwriting being easy, novel-writing was hard -- I've had the opposite experience! To me, a novel is a far easier enterprise than a screenplay (although definitely a more-satisfying one). Gil begins encountering figures from the Parisian past, a feast of luminaries from the Lost Generation era of 1920s Paris, who all interact with him -- it almost seems like a ghost story, except that it's not in any way scary, but the way Gil seamlessly interacts with these figures (and it's a who's who from the era -- Cole Porter, F. Scott Fitzgerald [and Zelda], Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Picasso, Man Ray, Salvador Dali, etc., etc.), it almost feels like a ghost story.

The core premise of it is this notion of the heart of a romantic is bound in nostalgia for the past, and a yearning for a "golden age," that was, of course, itself, not so golden when it was the present. And, to Allen's credit, Gil does explore this, with his trips to 1920s Paris, finding some of the locals there yearning for La Belle Époque (and, entertainingly, Allen has Gil make a brief trip there with a love interest [Adriana], who herself yearns for that era, and, as they sit for a bit with Lautrec, Gaugin, and Degas [and who appear to long for the era before their own]), and Gil, through his interactions with these characters, comes to value himself as an artist/writer and to ditch his fiancee and live in Paris, where he (at least for the moment) ends up with a (to my eye) rather Mia Farrowesque French babe, to turn his back on his Hollywood life.

So, it was an entertaining movie -- the pile of literary figure cameos woven throughout it do hearken to the incredible confluence of talent that was in 1920s Paris, and Allen lovingly gives them all their due, and the look is perfect, the blending of the past and present on the streets of Paris. Allen's love for this place is palpable in his filming of it, and, as a movie effort, this is one of his best (indeed, I thought "Well, if he dies before making another movie, he can at least be happy that this is his final effort, because it's a great one").

It was kind of a curious thing for me to watch, because I was heavily influenced by Hemingway, Faulkner, and Fitzgerald in my formative writing years, but I am not a nostalgic or sentimental soul, in truth -- I am a romantic who runs contrary to Allen's contention about the nostalgia in the heart of all romantics. Or maybe my nostalgia runs deeper than the 20th century. Hmm. Hadn't thought of that until just now -- I have ruefully thought a time or two that I was built for charging down Highland hillsides with a broadsword in hand or in cavalry charges with a saber flashing. Hah. And I have mourned that the industrial domination of war has robbed it of its historic glory, made it an exercise of logistics. And I've certainly mused ruefully about the incredible music of the 60s, when Rock was in full flower, and how amazing all of those bands were at the time, what an amazing confluence of talent there had been (although I never had a desire to actually live in that era, or in those earlier ages, in truth).

Hmm. Anyhow, I look at those artists not as the towering figures of culture that they became, but as human beings who simply lived and created beauty in their time, and beyond. I feel kinship with them as a fellow creator, and I suppose I do lament the slow death of culture in our age (although it's hard to look at folks living it up in Paris in the 1920s and not think that great, grave shadows were growing over them, too -- I mean, good lord, Fascism, Stalinism, Nazism -- all were awakening then, too).

I mean, I've written more books than Hemingway ever did. None of them are better than his work, but I am still growing and trying -- he had his turn at bat, before he lost his head (and he started strong and grew weaker in time, as alcoholism diluted his talent; I think my arc is going the other way), and now I am taking that swing. Maybe I'll succeed, maybe I'll fail, but I'm at least trying. And in being alive, there is infinite possibility in the here and now. The past is perfect precisely because it is dead -- the story is already written, you know how it ends. The present can challenge and inhibit precisely because of both the limitations imposed by human mortality, and by the infinite possibilities of action. That's never been a problem for me, though, because I am, and have always been, about the present. Learn from the past, sure, but don't be ruled by it. Live in the now, and enjoy the ride.

I can see these characters in Allen's movie and see them as peers to me, legitimately, certainly far more than most. I doubt anybody I shared the theater with has written more fiction than me, or even better fiction than me; that's not bragging -- it's just fact. I've worked very, very hard on my writing for a long time, and I could walk up to Hemingway (or his ghost) and if he drunkenly challenged me to a fistfight (and he does that a few times in the movie -- of course, Gil, being the proxy for Allen, passes on it), I would have totally taken Hemingway up on it, been like "Sure, Sport. Let's go." *KAPOW* What am I supposed to do, NOT want to take up his challenge? What, because he's Hemingway? *KAPOW* Give the man what he wants. Give him a bucket of ice water to wake him back up.

There was a great line from Gertrude Stein (surely Allen speaking through her) about the job of the artist being to not succumb to the dismal present (I'm paraphrasing; it was said far better in the movie), but to rise above it and create something beautiful and eternal. It was a good line. There were lots of good lines in the movie, peppered throughout. Hemingway had a good one when he said that love was the antidote to death, and that only the coward feared to love, or was so hobbled by his fear of death that he was unable to love, and in so doing, was a coward. Something like that. Again, I am only paraphrasing, but it coming from the machismo-soaked, deadpan, overly serious musing of Hemingway, it made me snicker (I have theories about Hemingway, having read his work and thought about it a great deal).

At any rate, it was a good movie, being both entertaining, funny, and thought-provoking. All of the artists in the movie had the benefit of being legends both in their own time, and over the span of time (although, oddly, the cultural ferment of the Lost Generation is lost in this day and age, really, when even reading a book is seen as somehow eccentric or laborious, in this instantaneous, tech-driven age of the perpetual NOW -- their greatness is lost in a world without readers, and they really do become ghosts of a bygone era).

Time On My Hands

I've got the boys all weekend; we're going to go out and about in a bit, hit some art fairs, see what we can see. It's a cool, mild day over here. I saw "Midnight in Paris" last night, after work. I'll write about that later today/tonight.

Chillin'

It got damned cold today. The storms rolled in and it got cold. I'm not complaining -- after the past couple of days, some cold weather is welcome, honestly.

Work was busy in the morning, trying to wrangle a lot of things under the deadline. It's all about meeting the deadlines, as ever! That's what I love about unstructured time: no deadlines!

I've got two books I'm going to write the remaining months of this year. I think that should be just ambitious enough to keep me motivated, without being overwhelming. I still need to find homes for the others. I'm going to focus more heavily on three of the ones I have done, the ones that I think are the most marketable. The longest one is a solid work, but it's just too large to try to pimp to agents, I think, especially in this economy. I'm going to shelve that one as one to sell if I'm able to get one of the others sold, first. I don't think like a businessman with my writing, but I really need to if I'm going to sell any of these.

I have the boys most of this weekend, which'll be fun. We'll have a good time, as ever. We watched "Kung Fu Panda" the other day, which the boys greatly enjoyed. It's a cute movie, well-structured and entertaining. Jack Black is perfect as Po the Panda.

Shapely

I was tickled to see that my photograph won the "Photo of the Week" contest at the Chicago Redeye, a 250,000 circulation daily paper that the Tribune puts out. Woo hoo! It'll be printed in tomorrow's Redeye. Here was the writeup...

‎'WINNER: Dave Neal, 41, Lincoln Park
"Timeless." [EDITOR'S NOTE: So simple, so stark, so recognizable. It's artsy but not artsy, if that makes any sense. It's one of those photos that just makes you stare. Probably because it's Timeless. Congrats to all our finalists this week and congrats to Dave for a really nice photo.]'

Heat

Wow, it's way hot. And it's going to be way hot tomorrow, too, although from the forecasts, it looks like a cold front'll come in after that and bring temperatures back to their normal levels for this time of year. Fine by me, because IT'S FRICKIN' HOT!

Bikini Boulevard (aka, Oak Street Beach) is loaded with folks, now, which always makes the bike ride home treacherous. It's kind of a six of one, half-dozen of the other proposal -- bike up the lakeshore and dodge all the pedestrians, or risk navigating the city streets in a more windy, zig-zaggy route. I usually opt for the lakefront, just because it's a straight shot.

Time to chill out. Nothing particularly incredible happened today, alas.

Swingline Windchime

Hotter than hell today, and looking to get toastier as the days progress. Tomorrow's high is supposed to be 95!! And that's up here in Chicago!! I can't imagine how hot it'll be for folks living south of here.

Had something amusing happen tonight: a Swingline stapler I had on my windowsill (actually, one of the boys put it on the windowsill for some reason), anyway, it turned into a kind of a windchime this evening. The wind was blowing through the window, making this agreeably soft clanging, and it took me a moment to isolate where it was coming from. It's been clanging all evening as the wind blows, and I've enjoyed it, the serendipity of it, the Zen stapler...

Sundaze

I'm floored at this screed against pie! How could anybody not like pie?? I have no words. Nathan Heller (the writer) fucking hates pie! I have never seen such vitriol hurled at a pastry before!

Amazing weather today. Just perfect mild summer kinda day. The boys and I had fun in the park, and they got worn out playing soccer (sorta) with each other, and it just got in that pleasant, quiet kind of mid-afternoon groove that was just sweet and rewarding.

Then I biked to Target to get a few things, and was amused at the city, just alive and full of activity, as always. So many people, coexisting peacefully, happily, even. Oh, sure, annoying one another here and there -- a classic Chicago moment (I say this because when I first moved here in '93, from Ohio, this phenomenon struck me) -- the Retributive Honk. Basically, when somebody did something "honkworthy," somebody might honk and then the person(s) would honk back, in retaliation for being honked at. I first saw this when I moved to Chicago, amused by it -- Honk HONK Honk HONK -- like Honk Tag. Anyway, after my Target run, I passed in the middle of a Retributive Honkfest, amused by the chorus of car honks, so as the only biker in the midst of this, I added my own bike bell to the mix, which amused me. It was like a pixie in the midst of blaring elephants. Honk HONK HONK *BING* HONK HONK *BING* Honk

I could afford another car if I wanted one, but the truth is, while it's convenient to have a car in the city, at the same time, it's a big PITA. When you factor in the license fees, the city sticker fees, the neighborhood parking fees, the insurance, the emissions tests, and the fuel costs (to say nothing of wear and tear and associated damage), it's a real pain to actually have a car. You'd have to be a supreme dildo to actually want to have a car in the city. The convenience is offset by all the annoyances.

Anyway, amusing things while riding to and fro, just watching the city do its thing. Myriad cosmopolitan lives, people doing their thing. Love it.

Magic Number

I've seen 150 trotted out before a number of times, where people are concerned: "Don't Believe Facebook; You Only Have 150 Friends."

Don't think there are more than 10 people  I've known in my life that I would consider friends (and of that, maybe 5 are or have ever been good friends), but I am pretty choosy in that regard. Beyond that are maybe 50 people I consider acquaintances of varying levels, if that. I'll never be in danger of having hundreds of Facebook "friends."

Looks like it might rain today. The clouds have that restive look to them.

Next?

Today was a sweltering day, although a storm blasted through here and somewhat moderated all the heat and humidity. I didn't do much today beyond grill some mild Italian sausages and doing some chores and trying to keep cool. After my bike follies yesterday, I wanted to just hang about. I did some reading.

I'm thinking I should frag this blog. Or at least mothball it. Giving serious thought to that. The only reason I'd not flat-out axe it is because when you do that to a blog, some cybermarketer scoops up the address and the next thing you know, they're trying to sell you toasters or links to memory foam lounge chairs or whatever, and that's annoying. Anyway, I haven't made my mind up, yet.

Got the boys bathed and fed, of course, so they're all fluffy and cute, loping around in their shorts jammies.

Tomorrow I'll have the boys clean up their room, and will fish out the air conditioner. The building requires having the super install it, which makes sense -- you don't want air conditioners falling from the sky.

My folks may visit in July, which'll be nice; they'll get to see the boys. Beyond that, pretty clear schedule. Work. Bike. Write. Work. Bike. Write. Fucking boring, right?

I'd really like to score tickets to Next, but they sell them in pairs, and I don't want to have to throw down that kind of money and then have to find somebody to go with me (and cadge the $100 from them the ticket would cost). I wish I could pick up a single seat, because I'm really only interested in visiting Next to try the food -- I am a fan of Achatz's cooking; I'm not out to impress a date -- and really, a circus like Next would be way, way too much of an over-the-top kind of experience for a date (and, honestly, I wouldn't want to be distracted -- Epicurean that I am, I honestly would want to be able to focus on the food. The presentation of it, all of that stuff, rather than dividing my attention between the food and a date). Anyway, that puts me off a bit vis-a-vis Next. I want a single ticket. I want to go, I want to see what they do. But, of course, from their vantage point, why sell one ticket when you can sell two? Four? Six? Eight? Part of the problem/conceit with the ticket arrangement of Next is that it forces one to make that kind of decision. See, I like reservations at a restaurant, and I like being able to just pop into a place; but having to buy a ticket seems like a thumb in the eye of the patron. Obviously, a set amount of people coming in and out at a given time and place lets the staff at Next plan a "perfect" dining experience -- no surprises, just a set-piece culinary performance. They know exactly how many people are coming, and can prepare for it, which lets them avoid sweating lots of details that operate in a typical restaurant. And, because of Achatz's reputation, he can count on the demand being high (and, since they completely change the menu/concept every three months, they can basically be "all new" every few months, ensuring steady demand). It irks me. I just want to try the food, and hate that there's basically a firewall between me and that place, or that I have to play games to be able to get through the door. It makes me want to spend my restaurant dollar elsewhere, despite having nothing but admiration for Achatz's work.

There and Back and There and Back And Back There Again

Beautiful day -- mild temperatures, lots of sun. Classic early summer weather. One annoyance for me, although I was sanguine about it -- I had a flat bike tire on the way home. It hit when I was a couple of miles from home, so instead of heading back home, I walked it to the nearest bike shop, although as I did that, I recalled that I had neglected to put my wheel key in my messenger bag (those are to make it somewhat harder for thieves to steal my bike tires), so I ended up having to walk the bike to the shop, then walking back home for the keys, then walking back down to the shop, then walking back home (and I've got one more walk left, to go pick the bike back up). Anyway, that's about 5 miles of walking added to my usual bike routine. I'm just glad the bike crapped out relatively close to home, or I'd have been miffed. Had it been in the heart of downtown, I don't know where I'd have gone. Of course, walking it made the most sense, as the city was packed with beachgoers today, everybody taking advantage of the beautiful weather. There were a ton of people at the beaches, and lots of police. Despite the irritation of the bike tire, I was sanguine about it all -- what am I going to do about it, right? I just deal with the problem at hand.

So, at the moment, I'm having some leftover pizza and am washing it down with a Chinotto, knowing that I've got one stroll left to take (I was pleased that the bike shop wasn't packed -- that was my lone concern, with the weather being all good, I feared lots of people would be in there, but it was casual).

"So You Think You Can Dance" is on again; I missed the opening episode(s) which I think were on Wednesday. Ahh, Jeanine Mmmmason...

So, so yummy!

I'm actually thinking of finding a dance school for B1 -- he's got the most innate sense of rhythm I've ever seen in anyone, and sometimes he busts out some moves every now and then that are very cool. I'll see what's around town, what's reasonable and seems bullshit-free. I think he'd enjoy it, actually, because it's athletic but kind of sneaks it in with the music and the rhythm. He's actually got a real sense of movement, and I think that's something a person either has, or they don't. It's fun to watch, and if I can find a tap or jazz program or something like that which he might enjoy, I'll enroll him and see if he enjoys it. I think he will, because, as I've said, it slips out in dribs and drabs, his keen sense of rhythm.

It's funny, because B2 is the natural athlete, as I've said before -- quick, strong, competitive -- he's also a natural performer and showboat, and B1 seems clumsier than his younger brother, except in that realm of rhythm. Get some music going, and B1 kind of gets into a cool groove, and it's fun to watch. His normally shy and earnest self dissolves into this natural dancer. It's totally unexpected, and a joy to see. So, trying to be a good parent, I'm paying attention to what my kid enjoys and am giving him the opportunity to see if that's something he'd like. B2 will be a natural soccer (or, god help me, rugby) hooligan; but B1, I can see really enjoying dance. I respect dance, because it's frickin' hard, and the body awareness of dance reaps dividends in a variety of ways.

The Mendacity of Nope

I wasn't going to grouse about politics here, but as we continue to lurch along in the economic doldrums, I wonder if it's occurred to Democrats that being Republican Lite doesn't serve them particularly well (or the rest of the country, for that matter, the ~90% of the country left behind by Republican economic policies). When Obama was voted in, there was a strong mandate for change -- hell, he ran on it ("Change We Can Believe In") and on hope over fear, all of that stuff. But his term to date has really been a continuation of the Bush/Cheney Years in nearly all ways (I mean, even his demonized healthcare reform was really just a repackaged version of Mitt Romney's "Romneycare" that would have made Eisenhower proud -- that's exactly how conservative and retro it is -- a 1950s solution to a 21st century problem). Anyway, despite bucking the mandate he had and pursuing a supposedly "bipartisan" approach to the GOP (which really looked like a peace-through-appeasement tactic to me), Obama was rewarded with nonstop opposition from a unified and deeply ideological GOP. I mean, the GOP were staggered in the wake of Obama's election -- they had nothing. And they still have nothing to offer (beyond their ongoing mantras: lower taxes, more money to the top 1%, more money to the military and the police, One Nation Under God[tm], and immigrant-bashing). But the weak-kneed approach of Obama and the Democrats cost them the House -- their conciliatory efforts got them absolutely nothing, and their fealty to Wall Street over Main Street cost an economic recovery -- they listened to the wrong voices and refused to run with the mandate that they had, refused to implement a serious stimulus plan, and the economy continues to lurch and founder. This was the gift that the GOP had hoped for, and they've run with it. They're still peddling the same snake oil they always do, but the fault really lies with the Democrats, for not running with the ball when they had it. Fake Democrats don't tend to win in the long run.

Of course, now we have a fake Democrat as Mayor over here in Chicago. Rahm Emanuel is a political pit bull, we're fond of hearing, but he has always been a Fake Democrat of the first order. The now-defunct Democratic Leadership Council (whose sole accomplishment was turning the majority of Democrats into Republican Lite), they loved Emanuel. And Chicago is a genuinely Democratic city -- true blue -- not the pale blue weak tea that Fake Democrats love to peddle. And that's what it's going to be -- Emanuel will try to bust up what unions he can, will probably privatize more of the city if he gets the chance, will kiss corporate ass more assiduously than ever, and so on. That's how Fake Democrats do things. Now, Emanuel has one luxury Obama doesn't, and that's far more job security -- the GOP in Illinois has no chance of taking Chicago from Emanuel. The political calculus is turned on its head, here -- Republicans pretend to be Democrats in Illinois in order to survive (excepting the collar counties, where they let their freak fascist flags fly).

Anyway, it's frustrating. It makes me think that the whole political system is just a puppet show put on for the distraction of the masses, simply because the route the Democrats should be taking is so clear, but they never, ever do it, and, instead, tack to the Right, which qualifies as the "Left" to the Republicans, who are simply out in the reactionary wilderness, far, far to the Right these days. Seriously, if you count yourself as a moderate or a centrist (whatever that honestly means in American political discourse -- a topic for another time), that would classify you as a leftist to today's Republicans. That's how far in the ideological weeds they are. Today's Democrats are more like 80s Republicans, and it's the sad truth. Though they are labeled as "liberals" by the hidebound GOP, there is nothing actually liberal about most of them -- there is still a tiny minority of actually liberal Democrats, but they are as much of an endangered species as moderate Republicans (who appear to be extinct).

Where does all of this go? America's problems require new thinking and progressive ideas -- supply-side economic thinking is bankrupt (honestly, the data bears this out -- it has resolutely failed to deliver what it pretended to promise to deliver), our country is in an economic tailspin that just grinds on, and our future as a nation is being mortgaged for short-term political gains by parties who are completely compromised by the actual powers-that-be running things.

Obama could have been another FDR or an LBJ when he got voted in -- he had it right there in his hands; instead, he has opted for being Herbert Hoover. *golf applause* The frustrating thing is that generations of Americans are going to be paying for that political cowardice and lack of vision.

Zazen

Took the boys out to get some local 'za tonight, which they both greatly enjoyed. I got them a 12" cheese pizza, and I got myself a 12" with jalapenos, hot Italian sausage, red onions, and, for fun, a quail egg added on one slice (I had to get that, when I saw it on the menu). I'd also gotten some garlic bread for B1, some melted goat cheese-n-sauce for me, and a Fat Tire beer. We got stuffed. I couldn't even finish the beer, and we ended up taking most of the pizza home. Of course, the beer and the appetizers took their toll, but beer-n-pizza, right? Anyway, it was good, and the boys ate heartily. Great thin crust pizza...

See how much we had left over? Great stuff!

Speaking of beer, saw something amusing on my bike ride home (btw, it was frickin' chilly by the lake -- definitely going to wear a jacket tomorrow) -- anyway, a gaggle of either boys or else barely-legal skater kids got busted on the beach by bike cops for bringing lots of PBRs with them. They looked particularly chagrined, since all of their beer was, of course, taken. They were getting ticketed, so I assume they were legal adults getting busted for bringing booze to the lake -- open container and/or who knows what else? Their faces were priceless, like "Fawwwwwwwwwwwwk."

June

I'm kind of amazed it's June already. Summer's nigh upon us! I'm very aware of the long days, perhaps more than I've been in a long time.

I am tempted to catch the new Terrence Malick movie, "The Tree of Life." It's a whisker over two hours long, which is always a deterrent for me, where movies are concerned, but his style of movie-making is very singular and would play out very well on the big screen, so I may catch it when it rolls through town. Haven't decided, yet. I thought that with "The Thin Red Line," too -- wanting to see it on the big screen, but punting it, then catching it on DVD, and thinking "This would have really been great to see on the big screen." We'll see where it's showing; it's coming to Chicago tomorrow.

They finally drained those underpasses. I'm grateful for that, although they shouldn't be clogging up to begin with. The city needs to stay on that. The US has been lagging for over 20 years on infrastructure development, shamefully behind our supposed peers in the First World; that takes its toll around the country. Bridges, roads, sewer systems, all of that. It's going to take some major collapse of something critical to likely shake off the ignorant torpor that the Right inflicts on the citizenry for that kind of stuff. Infrastructure matters (and it's one of the few capital investments that can't be offshored -- it actually yields multigenerational benefits here at home).

I keep thinking about scoring myself a ticket to Next, the avant-restaurant of Grant Achatz fame. The theme of it changes every few months, and right now it's Paris, 1906, so I am tempted to go and try it out. I'd probably have to fast before attending such a thing, as they pile on the courses, there, from what I've heard, and it's all very rich. What's kept me back so far is the irritation of having to buy a ticket to go. But what tempts me is that I've had Achatz's cuisine before, way, way back when he worked at Trio, a top-notch restaurant in Evanston, and he is a wizard with food, he truly is. That meal I had at Trio was sublime, so I know that his approach at Next will be as thoroughly awesome. So, I have that to consider, as well. I have to see how long it's still the French cuisine, before it changes, and decide from there.

I'm all thrown off by the Memorial Day Monday; today feels like it should be a Friday, but it's so not! Haha!

Cage Match

This YouTube amused me: The Evolution of Nicolas Cage's Hair.