08 March 2010

the novelty of cinco de mayo

on two separate occasions over the last few weeks i have allowed my obnoxious drunken bravado to write a couple of those proverbial bouncing checks that i am so fond of circulating into the world whilst inebriated. for some ungodly reason i entered into two pacts that provided that we, the pact-makers, would in turn produce actual, physical rough drafts of our long hyped forays into the world of long form authorization (a book, if not necessarily a novel)

today, the horror set in as i realized that both of my friends seem to be taking this seriously. and i say to myself, "oh, fuck..."

in most of all possible scenarios, those of you who know me understand that i am a much better idea man than executor of said idea. which is why my past is littered with half fleshed out, half written (if that far along) scripts and novels. hell, i even have a hard time finishing essays, articles, and short stories, which is probably already reflected by the infrequency of posts on this here blog.

apparently falling in and out of love with ideas in the blink of an eye isn't the best way to bring these projects to their intended fruition.

but that all ends now. i have recently started my book and i have promised that this time i'm gonna finish it. this time i have to...because the one trait of mine that exceeds my lack of follow through, it is my vanity.

because if shane and mike scott can deliver books by cinco de mayo, then i have to be able to, right? given, i'm not exactly sure upon what to base this prediction of completion, i mean, if i haven't managed to complete a major work to my satisfaction over the last 30 years, what makes me think that i can complete such a task within 60 days?

it's because i feel i have to. because i hate letting people down. and i make a policy against writing checks that my butt can't cash. and i really just feel the need to finally finish something, anything, so that i can free myself from the shackles and constraints that come with being a non-finisher, from the ranks of the un-clutch.

cinco de mayo is independence day, holmes.

14 February 2010

jason reitman has clearly never had to work for anything, corporate fucking robot!

now, even as i type this, i am vaguely aware that i am probably the only person that feels this way and that i probably won't be changing any minds or forcing anyone to reexamine their opinions, yet still i must try. even while situated amongst all the critical and public ballyhoo, i find that the film up in the air really left me cold. while i could quibble about the small stylistic things that made me want to puke (i.e. the slick, soderbergian montages of rolling luggage,) i have decided to eschew the details to delve right into the ugliness of what i see as the big picture. and the big picture is this: jason reitman's crass little slice of cynicism is terribly insulting to the same audiences that are gobbling it up.

up in the air positions itself in a world where the only loyalty left is the loyalty between companies(corporations)and their consumers. in this world people will fuck you over time and again, but it's okay because you can jump line by becoming a loyal customer of any random service. c'mon, really? this film was obviously made by someone that has never had to deal with a cable or insurance company, for if he did he would realize that these money making entities don't give a shit about the individual. unless of course, they are the first class, elite status, money men. this film just rings so false in this way as i find that the only real loyalty is that which comes with freindship. i guess it comes down to the fact that, like most real people i know, i will take my boys like zach,shane, phil, jared et al over my toyota service agreement or my blockbuster card any day of the week. and to portray the human race as putting their loyalties elsewhere is just an insulting affront to my sensibilities.

yet as is, these characters take pride in their car rental perks, even going so far as to begin to develop superficial emotional bonds over them. i remember sitting there growing quite agitated at the notion of modern romance being linked to the status of a hilton rewards card as if it were the only common ground we selfish, shallow humans could ever find. i mean, i've never even come close to snagging a member of the opposite sex with my subway fresh card, frankly i've never even thought about it as membership in the subclub holds little to no value as a cultural signifier. but hey it works for them, i guess. until of course, everything changes...

i absolutely hate it in films when one cataclysmic event brings about a complete 360 degree change of character. as if after spending two hours with this mile grubbing egoist, i am somehow to believe that the revelation that his female opposite is a duplicitous cheater is going to drastically alter his character. and all of a sudden his ten million miles are going to be spiritually deflating to this guy who has invested so much in them. and he's going to write a recommendation for someone who basically just annoyed him. i just don't buy it. i'm sure neil armstrong meeting all his goals and landing on the moon would have just been soul crushing if his girlfriend had just broken up with him, or that donald trump would suddenly become a philanthropist were he to go bankrupt. fuck off with that shit mr reitman.

but the most insulting thing about the whole deal is that even if i were to buy that old george had undergone this amazing and drastic change in character the film has positioned him in a way that the "new, improved, humanistic" guy is just a depressed sad sack shell of his former self and actually makes us long for the free-wheeling, airport scenery chewing cool guy that he started as. this film basically goes out of its way to make selfishness, vanity, and materialism look as hip and as cool as possible, while rendering interpersonal loyalty and thoughtfulness as the recipe to a sad sack existence. the only character left emotionally unscathed is the adulterous mom. and it really makes me want to puke. i hate how the downbeat ending has become the new happy ending. it used to make films seem fresher, somehow more realistic, now it just rings as hollow and as empty as the director's heart.

that, in a nutshell, is why i hated jason reitman's newest film. it just reeks of someone who has never ventured out of his millieu of rich hollywood powerbrokers and experienced the real citizenship of america. i have heard it described as "a portrait of modern america." if this is the case can we just bring on nuclear armagddon now, because clearly, for the rights to a bill of goods, we have clearly sold our souls, you know the thing that used to make us distinctly human.

01 February 2010

changes of direction or blasphemy for beginners

while i was away...

i can't stop listening to the song french navy by camera obscura. i haven't seen an art film in a really long time...call it detox for those that want to enjoy movies without overthinking them. i once read a short story by joyce carol oates where the subject of every sentence had nothing, or at least very little, to do with the previous one, yet they formed like a puzzle to reveal possibly the most complex story i could have imagined. ipod has completely changed my life as the ability to buy music one song at a time has gotten me back into a quest for new music that i thought had ended long ago.

if i were going to make a top ten list for the films i saw last year, sex drive would be #1 with a bullet, i strongly urge you to check it out. the yeah yeah yeahs turned out to be a hell of a lot better than i ever thought they would be when i first heard them. jason reitman has officially lost whatever credibility i gave him after thank you for smoking as his penchant for cynicism has rendered his characters completely unable to change their context...fuck you for that sad sack up in the air bullshit. why would somebody make movies about people when they seem to hate them,especially when it is so lucrative to make movies about explosions and smurfs with jetpacks

am i the only one really really looking forward to hot tub time machine? ricky gervais and louis ck should have a cage fight to determine which of them really is in fact god. the most amazing sound i heard last year was when brett rogers knocked out andrei arlovski with one punch; who knew my introduction to loving mixed martial arts would be an audible one? i promise that i haven't lost my mind. not yet, although pauly d. is my second favorite person in the world behind my beautiful wife.

if you want a nice ass hour on wednesday, and frankly, who doesn't check out modern family at nine on abc and then flip over to bbc america and check out the inbetweeners, the two best new shows on television. if you still don't listen to los campesinos! you are just kidding yourself. the show community started off promising, but has really fallen off as of late. is there a rule that the artic monkeys can only turn out one pop gem per album, your turn cornerstone.

jebron lames still has as many championship rings as i do, which in my book makes him more overrated than the word overrated itself. do yourself a favor and buy the album manners by passion pit. go saints.

boycott award shows. that's the situation.