It's Been Good While It Lasted, Netflix DVD

You should all be happy to know that I finally watched a DVD that I've had from Netflix for almost an entire year.

That's right. I have been paying $10 per month, for a year - for you math dummies, that's $120 - to have a DVD collect dust in my apartment. I have essentially been allowing Netflix to use my apartment as a storage facility. How did this happen, Dan? Where did this go wrong. So many questions... I received the DVD on March 13, 2009. There was so much promise then, so much anticipation! At one point, I looked forward to receiving this DVD! I pined for it! And now, almost an entire year later - a year of guilt and self-loathing, a time that I looked at that DVD with both sorrow and resentment - now, $120 later, I have finally watched this film, which I could have bought on Amazon for $17.99 (plus shipping and handling).

Why has it taken me so long, you ask? Only god knows. I've resisted it for so long for no good reason. Firstky, it's an Almodovar movie... I love Almodovar! Every time I hear he has a new film coming out, I freak out! I love his movies so much that I study the trailers and obsessively seek out interviews, articles... and yet, there are countless movies that he made in the past three decades that I've never seen and apparently am in no rush to see! Here is a perfectly delightful and fascinating example of his cinema - one of the films that, no doubt, made his reputation - and I have treated it like my redheaded, bastard stepchild. Why is that?! Why would I be so cruel to Pedro? Especially when all of his movies are consistently good. This one is called "What Have I Done to Deserve This?" and it turned out to be excellent. Was it his best ever? No. Then again, that's a tall order. Still, it was better than 70% of the films I saw this year (and I've seen a lot).
In truth, I'm sort of sad to return the movie... it's been with me for so long. I mean, first of all, it's seen my bedroom in so many configurations! It was here when I added the new desk. It saw the end of the green sheets in favor of blue stripes. It sympathized with the addition of a sad little khaki dust ruffle (poor dust ruffle never had a chance - was always a disappointment to me). It even supported me when I made the brave decision to add a nightstand to the side of the bed that I don't use for my non-existent (but, somewhere-out-there) boyfriend. Speaking of, it's been with me through good dates and bad. It's witnessed the full-cycle of a relationship (and maybe a few friendships). Yes, it sulked in the corner as I watched the entire first 4 seasons of the Office (not to mention an entire year of other instant Netflix films and tv series), but it stuck with me through the spring rain and the windy fall, through the blistering summer and through the snowy winter. It didn't quite spoon me on my birthday and through the holidays but, I felt its envelope-y presence. It might just be the best, most non-judgmental friend I have!

So, on this Wednesday, February 24th, Happy (belated) Valentine's Day, Netflix DVD and Happy (early) Anniversary! I hope you find luck with your next recipient, but I'm almost certain it won't be a long term relationship like ours. Netflix DVD, je'taime.

Oh Blog, how I forget about thee...

What can I say? Rather than hear that I'm lounging at home writing about the most inane topics, wouldn't you rather hear that I'm leading such a busy and fulfilling life that I don't have time to blog to you fools? For all the lovelies that do wish I had more time, I'm going to share with you an old story that is still priceless:

The story is freaking ridiculous (and long!) Prepare yourself.

On Sunday evenings, especially during the summer, I like to trick myself into thinking that it's still the weekend, when in fact we all know the death of the work week looms. You gotta mix it up and keep things loose and unpredictable. You gotta kick that Sunday night feeling and say, I don't need you Teri Hatcher! I can stay at home, cook soup and watch Desperate Housewives on Monday! Or Tuesday, if we're getting feisty.

There are a number of ways to make those weekend feelings last longer: sometimes I'll meet friends for dinner and encourage them to mix hard liquor with prescription meds (pills are always good for you - don't pay attention to those insurance lobbyists trying to take away our fun). I love to go on carefree walks through the city, soaking in that crisp air, chasing rabid squirrels and throwing myself in front of speeding taxis. Homeless hunting is always fun too. But, most of the time, I like to go to the old fashioned picture show and see what those crazy liberals in Hollywood are cranking out. One such Sunday evening, I went to see a lovely movie at BAM - by far my one of my favorite theatres in the city, despite the fact they carry Pepsi products (sorry Molly). You see, the brand of soft drink carried by a theatre is important to me. I will determine which movie theatre to frequent based solely on this criterion. When the Angelika on Houston switched from Pepsi to Coke, you couldn't have understood my joy! And, I'll have you know, since they switched I've increased my attendance at the Angelika threefold. It may be my favorite movie theatre in the city for this very reason... actually, I know it's not. How can I take a movie theatre seriously when two out of three soap dispensers in the men's bathroom never have soap in them? (Try it, I dare you. The one closest to the door always has soap... too bad I can't say the same about the other two.) This has been a major digression... wow.

After the movie, I took a leisurely trip to a neighboring Fort Greene market. Sometimes I compulsively shop for groceries when I'm in a good mood. It's a bit of a sickness. I like to shop for an odd mix of practical things that I regularly use (milk, eggs, bread) and novelty items that I usually regret (raspberry-flavored licorice comes to mind... it's not as good as it sounds). On this particular evening I bought my staples (mostly cereals in assorted varieties - hey, I'm a single man) and a big bunch of flowers (cough. a single GAY man).

Off to the subway I went. The C train stop in Fort Greene happens to have grates at street level so you can hear when a train is approaching (a blessing and a curse). This particular evening I could hear the train arriving just as I was entering the station. I decided to make a run for it. The train doors opened as I swiped through the turnstile. I ran through the gate and flew down the stairs. It was a mad dash to the train but, I made it. There were open seats on the train but, since I was only riding for two stops, I stood.

The doors closed shut and pretty much immediately, before we even start moving, a skinny, kinda skanky, young black girl sitting among her friends makes eyes at me and says in serious, low voice, "I found mine." I ignored her. I had no reason to believe she was talking about me. What in the world could I have to do with this? I returned back to my thoughts. Little did I know that this crazy was referring to me. That is, I didn't know until she started singing, in a very full voice, the lyrics from Beyonce's Dangerously in Love directly to me. For those uninitiated to these oh so subtle lyrics, here they are:

I love you, I love you, I love you...(this goes on for awhile) Baby I love you. You are my life. My happiest moments weren't complete if you weren't by my side. You're my relation. In connection to the sun. With you next to me there's no darkness I can't overcome. You are my raindrop. I am the sea. With you and God, who's my sunlight I bloom and grow so beautifully. Baby, I'm so proud. So proud to be your girl. You make the confusion. Go all away. From this cold and messed up world.

She's staring at me, gesturing towards me, acting out the whole song with arm movements, dance moves, this girl had obviously practiced this a few times in the mirror... but, I ignore her and just avoid eye contact. Naturally, this is unacceptable to her, so she stands up and begins circling me! She begins dancing around me, touching me and even trying to take my flowers away (I didn't oblige - I wasn't giving away my flowers)! Now she's got crazy Beyonce eyes and is really singing the song with a lot of voice:

I am in love with you! You set me free! I can't do this thing called life without you here with me! Cause I'm Dangerously In Love with you! I'll never leave! Just keep lovin' me! The way I love you loving me!

I was so embarrassed. Everyone on the train is staring at us, people are laughing, some almost in tears over this. Thankfully, my stop is coming up next and I begin to move away from her and stand near the door. She was totally unrelenting. Not only did she follow me to the door, prancing and glaring like a matador, but she interpreted my attempted escape as some additional challenge. She stepped in front of me and blocked the door way. By now she's singing:

And I know you love me! Love me for who I am, cause years before I became who I am. Baby you were my man! I know it ain't easy! Easy loving me! I appreciate the love and dedication from you to me! Later on in my destiny I see myself having your child! I see myself being your wife and I see my whole future in your eyes! Thought of all my love for you sometimes make me wanna cry!

On top of this - she began to do a strip tease around me - undulating against the door, spanking herself, practically screaming the lyrics by now to the point that her voice was cracking and removes her bandanna from her hair and begins to use as if it were a feather boa tickling my neck, ears and nose (mind you this girl and that bandanna were no sight to behold). As you can imagine, I was so relieved to see my subway stop! I rushed past her to get out! Sadly, I CAN think of times I was more relieved to get off a subway car (like the time I was the only other person foolish enough to get on a seemingly empty subway car that actually held a lone homeless man reeking so badly of piss and god knows what else that I nearly suffocated - but that's another story). I was so red in the face from this girl, I had to be burning. It was on a whole new plane of crazy. The girl was freaking cray - zay! But, it all made for a pretty good story. Don't you just love New York 's mentally ill population?

Now, please enjoy Beyonce (herself) sing the whole crazy song. Sadly, it's no less insane coming from her, especially with this crazy cinnamon-bun hair and enormous funereal corsage:

Oscar Nominations!

I don't have the energy to comment in depth about the Oscar nominations, so I'm just going to do highlights here in a kind of stream-of-consciousness style. Here goes:

Gyllenhaal? What are you doing here? That's a pleasant surprise!

Cruz?! WTF?! I heard Nine blew! See if you can exchange your nomination for a gift certificate. Raincheck?

Damon! You made it!

Lead Actors and Actresses: Here, just as expected (glad to see you came through unscathed, Dame Helen; you're one fine sexagenarian).

Honestly, do you need more than this to vote for Dame Helen? (OK, ignore the man behind her, pay no attention to Taylor Hackford! Just focus on her suppleness, her warmth, her beauty, not Harry the Henderson behind her.)

District 9... I guess I have to watch you now.

The Blind Side: You must have paid off people for that nomination. Either that, or Academy members are seriously THAT amazed and surprised that Sandra Bullock was in that lifetime movie that somehow made it to multiplexes across the country.

Yeah, I saw it and, I admit, I enjoyed it but, Best Picture nominee? I'm gonna have to think about this.... I mean, when you think of best picture, you don't think of this sort of movie. Then again, if Steel Magnolias were nominated for Best Picture, how would I feel? Touché.

This is only the beginning, my friends.

Speaking of Charlie Rose and the New Yorker...

...every time I mention Charlie Rose, I think of this brilliant SNL commercial and wish that I too had the "Magic Mouth." I can't embed, so you'll have to trust me and follow the link for pure genius.

http://www.fortunatoprocopio.com/snlmagicmouth.html

Awesome Issue of the New Yorker

Ok, it's a bit late since I got the latest issue of the New Yorker in the mail today but, I just have to say it: Last week's New Yorker was definitely one of the best issues evaaaaar. ( I know, I know, but can you really expect me to review the thing until I've had time to read it?)

Today, as I was finishing an article about NYPD espionage (well, kinda... I'll get back to that in a moment), I imagined all of the staff members of the New Yorker giving each other chest bumps and high fives. I bet when they put that issue to bed they all just looked at each other and were like, "Beat that, Newsweek!" and, "You can suck it, Atlantic!" I mean serrriously, who does it better than the New Yorker?

Here are some highlights from last week's issue:

First, let's start with the genius cover. It's an image of a Christlike Obama gracefully strolling on water toward the foreground of the image.... ....at which point he takes a very human spill. All too topical as the whole country, scratch that, the whole world, is starting to acknowledge that our President isn't the Second Coming as some had hoped. It's a great image and, despite my political leanings, I applaud the New Yorker for being so brave. A conservative friend from college always used to complain when I'd borrow facts or comments from the New Yorker. He always claimed it was biased and therefore - particularly in the Bush II era - incredible. While I admit their editorial-ish section - The Talk of the Town - leans liberal, this administration has proven that the magazine's overall content is only beholden to reporting the facts. It's a mini revolution in today's "news" media where taking a stance has somehow become a journalist's duty. Anderson Cooper, I don't care what you think about the future of Haiti! Just tell us what's happening and look pretty, you silver fox!
In all seriousness, I can't watch televised news any more, it's obnoxious. Well, with the exception of PBS - but admitting that I watch PBS news will only earn me admission to the AARP.


Let's continue on about the virtues of last week's New Yorker. I always turn to the critics' section first and check out reviews of new films, art, architecture, etc. Last week they had an encouraging review for the revival of Arthur Miller's "A View from the Bridge," starring Scarlett Johansson and Liev Schreiber and a pretty tough review for the revival of Noel Coward's "Present Laughter" starring Victor Garber (speaking of silver foxes). I think the consensus around town about the success of the former is, "Who knew?" I mean, most have seen Scarlett Johansson on screen in our lifetimes and I think few would claim that she's the most gifted actress around. Maybe she's found her calling on Broadway? Too bad it's probably already sold out. Arg. Damn you, New Jersey! And you too, Long Island! The two of you steal all the tickets in sight. Let's throw Texas in the mix there too! Always seems like there is a surplus of Texans swiping seats on B'way. You may never get to see them, but you can still read both reviews here... actually, to add insult to injury, I'm mistaken, you can't read the articles on newyorker.com afterall... but, you can read an abstract of the article! Woopee! http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/theatre/2010/02/01/100201crth_theatre_lahr

Then, I moved on to an architectural review for Aqua, a new apartment tower in Chicago, designed by Jeanne Gang. She's an interesting architect; firstly, she's a woman. Sadly, high-ranking female architects are a rarity. Also, she happens to come from the Koolhaas school of architecture (who hasn't worked with Rem? Lordy!) and is a proponent of functional design, unlike Zaha Hadid, which is a breath of fresh air after reading this crazy article (also from the New Yorker): http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/12/21/091221fa_fact_seabrook.


And, while I'm absolutely petrified of Aqua - until those balconies are glassed-in I'm not going anywhere near it - I can appreciate the design, especially considering how much thought was put into making it an efficient and fully-functional form. And, whoa!, the New Yorker is actually letting you read the entire article online still! Enjoy: http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/skyline/2010/02/01/100201crsk_skyline_goldberger

Next, I read a fascinating article discussing throries on grief. Though intended as a critical roundup of books specializing on the subject of grieving, the article is far more interested in exploring the subject itself. It was enlightening. The author, Meghan O'Rourke, writes with great clarity and, as the article reveals, empathy. Well worth reviewing for anyone who has experienced loss of any kind, if only to know others have felt the same way as you (not matter how irrational it may seem). I fully intend to look up some of the books Meghan cites but, I'll add one not included in the mix that I think is more than deserving: Joan Didion's "The Year of Magical Thinking." (Yes, I hear your collective groans and I see those eyes roll. I know, I know, you've all heard how much I love Joan but, you must admit, that book is truly brilliant - and although that word is FAR overused, it's more than earned here.) Thankfully, you can still read the full article on grief here: http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/atlarge/2010/02/01/100201crat_atlarge_orourke.

And, as long as we're talking about Joan. This is a remarkable conversation between Charlie Rose and Joan Didion about the book. If you've already read the book, it's further insight into what you already know. If you have yet to read the book, in my opinion, it's a great introduction to a book I think you'll want to read. If you have the time, watch it:

Video embed isn't working properly... you can find video here: http://www.charlierose.com/view/interview/682

Finally, the big tease: Today, I finished a fun read about NYC's D.O.I. or Department of Investigation - the city's undercover unit that "investigates fraud and corruption among the city employees and people who deal with them." It's a mild pulse-racer about uncovering crooked deals using old fashioned espionage: button cameras, watch microphones, walkie-talkies and all. It's quite a read. It was even more fun to read because much of the action occurs near my own hood in stake outs off Roosevelt Avenue and secret meetings at the Boston Market on Queens Blvd. It's a relief to hear that some arm of the city's government is trying to uncover corruption among city employees. While it's no surprise to hear that health and safety inspectors are being bribed left and right at restaurants and construction sites, it's still disheartening, especially to think that they're being bought for as low as $20. Sadly, this article is not online in toto, but you can read the abstract here: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2010/02/01/100201fa_fact_macfarquhar.

And, who knows? After this sterling review, maybe you'll decide you should be a subscriber too!