response

I came home to a quiet apartment. The living room was empty, and I found no response letter from roommate. No personal confrontation, as yet, has occurred, probably because he's been in his room since I've been home. And contrary to my fears, I found no horse's head in my bed. Seriously though, I do feel somewhat relieved now that I have expressed my feelings, although I seriously doubt anything will change. I just want to make it through the final months of my lease in relative peace.

xx

left behind

Before I left for Panda Bear's on Friday I taped the aforementioned letter on my roommate's bedroom door. He, of course, was on the living room recliner. I left the letter on his door in lieu of giving it to him personally because I did not want any interaction with him; we haven't spoken in months, and I intend to keep it that way. However, after discussing the letter with Panda Bear, I now wonder if there will be a personal confrontation with him. I hope, instead, he will either leave a response on my door or be mute. As I have written previously, my passive-aggressive tendencies do not exist unacknowledged. I'm much aware of them. What can I say? I don't like confrontation. Who does? I know I'm not a perfect roommate, but if being a passive-aggressive roommate is my worst quality then I'm certainly comfortable with that. I would prefer to live with a passive-aggressive instead of a slob. Wouldn't you? Seriously.

Yes, I agree that it might be rather selfish to ask someone to alter his recuperation from a major surgery so that it minimizes its impact on me (I acknowledge this selfishness in the final sentence of my letter), but this selfishness is moot because it is a direct response to his inconsiderate behavior – behavior that I've dealt with for months. I mean, look at this – is that acceptable? Would you transform a shared living space into that without asking your roommate? Perhaps you wouldn't ask because you think such a transformation would be insignificant, acceptable. Really? You think that mess – which occupies a SHARED living space – is acceptable?

Tomorrow afternoon I'll be back in Bloomington, back in my shit apartment with my shit roommate. Future post to come…

xx

oh, and did i mention fml?

The shit has finally hit the fan with my POS roommate. On Monday he had a serious operation performed on his knee, which has rendered him practically immobile. Apparently he has decided to make the living room his rehab camp; he's planted himself into the recliner – he's there every day and every night (yes, he sleeps there too). Oh, and dude hasn't fucking showered since the surgery.

Now I'm living like a prisoner: I'm confined to my room without the luxury of television (I watch very little TV, but that isn't the point) – wait, even prisoners get televisions in their cells – FUCK! Anyway, all of this is pushing me to the brink of hysterics. Seriously. I'm losing sleep. My hatred for him rattles my eyes and boils my blood as I lay in bed. I can't focus on my school work. I'm so disgusted. So angry.

So I wrote this letter. I'll give it to him tomorrow when I leave for Panda Bear's place.

FML.

thank you, mr. bill koch

The following letter, by Bill Koch of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, was written to Time magazine in response to the publication's 11 January 2010 cover story about the failed Christmas Day bombing of Flight 253.

Sept. 11 was certainly a tragedy, yet more people are killed on our highways each month or two than were killed on that day. One deadly airplane crash is about a day's worth of highway fatalities. Maybe the press should cover highway safety more and rare incidents less. We'd all be safer.

two movies

Last night I watched Open Water and Wonderland. Here are my thoughts.

Open Water (2004) Synopsis from the Netflix envelope: "It's Jaws meets the Blair Witch Project when a vacationing couple on a scuba diving expedition accidentally gets left behind and must fend for themselves in shark-infested waters. Directed by Chris Kentis, the movie features unknown actors and was filmed on a shoestring budget, sans camera tricks or mechanical man eaters. The circling sharks you see are… real!"

I never got into this movie. The "vacationing couple" were flat, cardboard cutouts. Yes, I understand that Open Water isn't an epic drama, and I shouldn't expect deep characters who are driven by unconscious desires, but even in a low-budget horror flick the characters have to give you a reason to care about them; otherwise, why watch the movie? Two stars out of five.

Wonderland (2003) From the Netflix envelope: "The scorching summer of 1981 turns grisly when a number of murder victims are discovered in a mansion on Laurel Canyon's Wonderland Avenue. Were they victims of a drug deal gone awry? Or is the tale even more menacing? And exactly what role did fading porn star John Holmes (Val Kilmer) – who's torn between his teenage girlfriend (Kate Bosworth) and his wife (Lisa Kudrow) – play in the crime? Co-stars Josh Lucas and Dylan McDermott."

Contrary to the 35% scored on Rotten Tomatoes, I really liked this movie. Wonderland began rather sluggishly, and the opening twenty minutes suffered from over-stylized and unnecessary production, but the story soon straightened itself out. Val Kilmer is great (why isn't he in more films that showcase his skills?), and Eric Bogosian is perfect as sleaze-ball Eddie Nash. Make no mistake, Wonderland is crawling with seedy creatures from the netherworld, but there's something compelling about watching such people, well, live. Add the well-endowed porn star (and freebase addict) John Holmes to the mix and you have a train wreck of a tale worth watching. If you're a fan of true-crime programs like Dateline, 48 Hours and the like, check out Wonderland. Four stars out of five.

xx

movies

I loved Before the Devil Knows You're Dead so much I had to buy a copy for my library; I found it used on eBay for a buck. I love this movie, and for whatever reason (I think it's simply the great acting) I can watch it repeatedly, which I have.

Flicks for this weekend: Open Water; Wonderland; and the director's cut of Dark City (I watched the original cut in theaters in '98 and, aside from Jennifer Connelly, don't recall much about it).

xx

jay reatard dead at 29

what I learned today

Nineteen-year-old chess phenom Magnus Carlsen, the youngest no. 1 player in chess history, "often calculates 20 moves ahead and can comfortably play several games simultaneously while blindfolded simply by hearing each move in notation."

xx

music picks from 2009

This blog post began as a piece designed to outline my top albums from the year that was. I began writing about David Bazan's great Curse Your Branches. I probably spent an hour, if not more, trying to summarize the album, as well as why the album, on a musical level, appealed to me. As I have written previously, writing lately has been an immense struggle. I type a few words. Review what I have written. Realize that the words fail to capture my feelings, my opinions. Hammer the back-space button and delete the words from the screen. Try again. Back space again. And again and again, until I have convinced myself that the entire exercise is a futile venture. But why?

While attempting to write about my 2009 music picks I realized something: I'm obfuscating the real reasons why I love these albums with bullshit music-critic jargon. My approach is wrong. And I'm not a music critic. Don't want to be. Granted, I'm a cynical bastard when it comes to art, but I'm not so cynical that I wish to criticize that which solely exists to express the emotions of its creator.

Humans are drawn to the things (i.e. other humans, art, experiences) that confirm their existence; even the things that may challenge our existence confirm who we are, because to challenge something is to first acknowledge its presence, its existence. I'm drawn to Bazan's Curse Your Branches because it's a record recorded by a man who was, at one point, confident in his religious convictions. Then doubt crept in. Anyone vaguely familiar with Bazan and his prior project, Pedro the Lion, know he's a man of religious faith. I tend to dismiss musicians who use their spirituality for songwriting fodder, but within Curse Your Branches is a man who sings about the dissonance between his modern-day self and the origins, or branches, of his spiritual self. Hearing a man at odds with his spirituality isn't compelling to the atheist, but there is a universal appeal about doubt. Curse Your Branches appeals to me because inside the well-written roots-rock songs is someone who has had a relationship with god, I'm guessing, since childhood, and I can certainly empathize with a man who has become disillusioned with a childhood relationship. Who hasn't, at some point during their lives, shared Bazan's sentiment when he sings in the album's title track, "All fallen leaves should curse their branches / For not letting them decide where they should fall / And not letting them refuse to fall at all."

Curse Your Branches is a great record (bookended by the wonderful "Hard to Be" and moving "In Stitches), and when you hear Bazan's resonant voice (which reminds me of Jeff Mangum's voice, in that, upon hearing his sound, you stop whatever it is you're doing and listen to the words soaring from his throat) you realize that to discount him and what he's singing about is an act of foolish defiance.

Immolate Yourself by the electronica duo Telefon Tel Aviv was another great release of 2009. Two words come to mind when describing this album: subterranean and mercurial. Much like Joy Division's epic Closer, Immolate Yourself is shrouded in an omnipresent darkness, and there's a pervading sense of paranoia throughout. While not a concept album per se, it's filled with the recurring theme of loss – and what hasn't been lost is quickly escaping to the realm of the irretrievable. This album is what early-'80s New Order would have sounded like if they'd been using 21^st-century music technology. The atmosphere of Immolate Yourself was dampened further one week after its release when the body of band member Charles Cooper was discovered in Chicago.

The late bloomer of 2009 was Beast Rest Forth Mouth by Bear in Heaven, which dropped in October. I love the feel of this record – it's carefree but not mindless music. Subtle synth lines wash over but don't engulf the songs, and Jon Philpot's distinct voice outlines the album with a fluorescent-like glow. Joe Stickney's lumbering yet light drumming pulsates each track with a tribal-like cadence. Beast Rest Forth Mouth is a refreshing – and fun – album. Just press play and take the ride. I can't wait to see these guys when they visit Bloomington this Friday.

I'm finished with this post. I'm not happy with it, but I'm publishing it anyway because I'm sick of writing. Fuck this.

xx

subjunctive mood

I'm not in a good place right now. Spending Monday night with some old comrades was great, but making the inevitable drive back to this shit apartment was depressing. When your living space begins to represent everything you despise about your life, it's time to move on. But I can't. Unfortunately the signature I placed on a legally-binding document requires me to stay here until June.

I hate where I am right now, both literally and figuratively. I hate where I live. I hate my roommate. I hate my financial and social positions in life right now. I've been sleeping 12 hours a day. I'm binge eating. For nearly a week I've been unable to run because I somehow fucked up my right knee. A 31-year-old man should not be relegated to this dismal lifestyle. But things will be changing – not soon enough, unfortunately – but soon. Come June I'll be out of here and away from Bloomington. Panda Bear and I will be living together in _____, and in August I'll begin the ASN program. And in December 2011 I'll graduate, which, I just learned recently, is about six months earlier than I had anticipated (definitely a good thing). The plan is to be out of Indiana before I'm 35, rooting myself in the Seattle area, maybe Chicago.

Speaking of school, classes begin next week. I've enjoyed the three (mostly) study-free weeks, although I wish I could have gotten more writing done – I was hoping to churn out a few short pieces, but writing has been a cumbersome task during the last couple of weeks. The simple task of putting a sentence together has been, and continues to be, a painful exercise. I question practically every word I type, and I fear/know the wordiness of each sentence is dreadful. Producing my previous post was agonizing. I felt as though I had to drag each fragment of each idea from a pit of tar and molasses, and then piece those shards together to form a semi-intelligible opinion. Some might ask, If it's such a struggle to blog, why do it at all? Because I enjoy writing. I enjoy, more often than not, the process of writing. It is undoubtedly my favorite hobby. Also, I have an obsessive-compulsive personality, and this space has become an organ of that personality, so I feel compelled to maintain this blog. And finally, as I age, this blog becomes more valuable to be me because it's a map of my life, my experiences; I'm fascinated with memory, and as long as I continue to chart my thoughts, opinions and experiences, this map will stand as a testament of who I am. And who I was.

I just wish I were in a better place right now.

xx

two reviews

Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (2007)

Andy Hanson (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Hank Hanson (Ethan Hawke) are brothers battling growing financial problems. Andy – the older brother – bullies Hank into robbing a jewelry store – their mother and father’s jewelry store. Hank botches the job, which leads to a growing tide of problems for the brothers, the ripples of which affect everyone in their immediate circles.

Of course, the roots of this great film dig much deeper than that simple summary. Before the Devil’s catalyst is the relationship between Andy and Hank. The brothers’ emotional baggage leaks into their interactions; as they struggle to cope with their issues, they begin to battle each other. Hank reaches a breaking point – he contemplates suicide – and has no one else to lean on but Andy. Andy wants none of it, angrily telling a weeping Hank to “shut the fuck up” – he makes the act of manipulating another human being a perverse art form. Andy’s memorable breakdown occurs later in the film during an explosive exchange with his wife (Marisa Tomei), and moments later as he, alone, wrecks his apartment.

Director Sidney Lumet, whose resume includes 12 Angry Men, Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon and Network, embraces the melodrama while avoiding the cliché and tacky elements of the genre. Hoffman, yet again, is amazing. And it’s after watching his role as Andy that I realized something: the real challenge of casting Hoffman is finding other actors who can equal his abilities, and Hawk, Tomei, and Albert Finney (Andy and Hank’s father) are up to the task and all give great performances.

Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is one of those rare films I watched twice in one day. Solid story, great directing and fantastic acting. Perfect.

Five out of five stars.

Tyson (2008)

I was a child of the ‘80s, and as a child I remember playing Mike Tyson’s Punch Out!! on the Nintendo Entertainment System. Tyson’s popularity and his dominance of boxing were otherworldly. He was so good it seemed as though he were based on a video game. At 20 years of age, he became the youngest man ever to win the heavyweight championship. Whenever a young person skyrockets to fame, the inevitable crash landing soon follows. And none crashed harder than Michael Gerard Tyson.

Tyson is a great documentary because director James Toback taps into his subject’s unique ability to tell a story, and Tyson’s tale is quite a story. Essentially, the film consists of Tyson sitting on a sofa and recalling his youth, his rise to stardom, his legal problems, “the Bite Fight,” and his post-boxing career. Interspersed are clips from his fights and interviews. This description may not seem engrossing, but actually watching the man himself speak about things that, for the public, were tabloid fodder is captivating. In this info-overdose age it’s easy to forget that the substance of headlines is not fictitious – behind the bold font and below the paparazzo’s flashbulb is a real human being.

The story of Mike Tyson is a lot of things. It’s a cautionary tale. A story of triumph. Of tragedy. Above it all, Tyson is a tale of redemption.

Five out of five stars.

xx

buffet of live radiohead

Been on a Radiohead kick lately (when am I not?) and my obsession turned up this: Radiohead Not For Profit. It's a site that features nothing but high-quality live mp3s. Check it.

Radiohead Not For Profit

xx

monday morning

The TEAS, which stands for Test of Essential Academic Skills, is the fifth and final hurdle (it's also a four-hour exam) I must clear to apply for the Ivy Tech registered-nursing program. The previous hurdles consisted of me getting A's in four prerequisite classes (English Comp, Psych 101, and Anatomy & Physiology 101 and 102). An A in each of those classes is worth 30 points, a B 20 and C's are worth 10, so it's essential to score A's in those four classes. Most, if not all, potential applicants have gotten A's in the prereq classes; that fact makes the TEAS score crucial – it separates the nursing students from the nursing applicants.

I'm allowed to take the TEAS three times; however, thirty days must expire before taking the exam again. I took the TEAS for the first time Monday morning, so I'll have two more opportunities to take the exam again before the April application deadline. Scores from multiple exams are not compiled into a single score, but the highest individual score will be the one submitted with my application.

Back to Monday morning: I took the TEAS and finished in the 95^th percentile. I'm pretty excited about that, but I probably shouldn't be too enthused. The past year saw a nation-wide spike in nursing school enrollment, so the competition will be intense for the program's allotted 40 slots. I plan on taking the exam again next month and, depending on that score, may take it one final time in March.

xx

seriously, wtf

I just finished watching Knowing, the film touted by respected film critic Roger Ebert as one of ‘09’s best. If Knowing was indeed one of the better films of the year than my initial feelings about this year’s films were correct – this was a shit year. The film was especially disappointing because it actually maintained my interest for the first 75 minutes (running time is two hours); however, what began as an exploration of determinism versus randomness deteriorated into a ridiculous tale of aliens and apocalypse. (If you enjoy the terrain trekked by M. Night Shyamalan, whom I don’t care for, then you’ll probably enjoy Knowing.) On the plus side, the flick features some above average CGI, and, contrary to much of his previous work, I wasn’t annoyed by Nic Cage’s performance as (don’t laugh) an MIT professor.

In the end, Knowing, ironically, doesn’t know where to go or what to be. It could have chosen to explore some age-old philosophical questions; unfortunately, though, Knowing chooses to delve into Hollywood’s bag of age-old clichés – and the viewer questions why he chose to waste two hours watching a mediocre film.

My Netflix rating: two out of five stars.

xx

(“The caves won't save us! Nothing can!”)

i heart zach galifianakis

Here are videos one and two of Zach Galifianakis' upcoming series The Snuggler (it's going to be epic). The third video is a sneak peak of The Snuggler video game -- sure to be the gift for the upcoming Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday!