🎵 Music Tango Mango—Can Look, I’m leading off with this because I did listen to classic high brow 70s German experimental rock band Can’s classic experimental rock album Tango Mango, … Read more

Showed a double feature of Godzilla Minus One and Godzilla: Final Wars on the roof the other day. We had 25 people up there! Roofzilla lives. 🍿

I’ve seen 50 First Dates but not Buffy The Vampire Slayer. This message brought to you by “Random Movie Neuron Firings” 🍿

Yes, August is almost over, but I haven’t collected my thoughts on July yet, so take my hand and travel back in time to the distant lands of about a month ago. Most of the stuff I see is old … Read more

Since moving in with my roommates, we’ve watched a lot of movies together. They are almost exclusively horror. I’m not mad. 🍿

The wind whipped my hair, slathering it around my skull. I was standing alone outside my family’s church, looking up the hill to the grotto where the Mother Mary statue stood. We went to a Protestant community church, even though my parents were raised Catholic, and they raised me hair-shirt New Age. My pants rippled against the wind.

The “church” was a rec hall the congregation rented from a convent. We hired a visiting priest every week to give the sermon, and took turns bringing wine and bread for the sacrament. The convent was perched on the New Jersey cliffs overlooking New York City. For a while, Gwyneth Paltrow’s aunt went there.

It was after Service as I stared up the hill. Maybe I was eleven. Wind, dark clouds, the manicured humble grandeur of the grotto and its winding approach; it dripped dramatics.

I lived in my head, a verified space cadet, as my aunt put it. I’d wander around, head down, too scared to look the world in the eye, lost in stories I told myself of saving the day from incursions of Saturday morning cartoon villains invading the real world. I didn’t identify with kids who saw fantasy as an escape. It was fun! Just an interesting place. Why imagine what you already see when you could imagine anything? Why then, did I always imagine a fight?

I was a good boy. Very dutiful. Unwavering dogma at home; things would have to work out if I did everything I was told. “This is my son, of whom I am well pleased,” my mother would coo, reciting the Bible, God speaking of Jesus. Escape was for lesser minds. I was too mature, too knowing, too far down the rabbit hole.

Everything I did and thought and felt needed a definitive ending. A purpose. An answer. Leaving questions open felt like a cop out. No, a betrayal. I had divine expectations to live up to. It was my destiny, an inalienable fact. And yet, I could still fail at it. I was failing. The gap from what I was, to what I must be, was immense. Of course it was. How can that gap ever be closed?

Yet that day, it all fell into place. I had claimed my birthright. There was no one else around to tell me otherwise. I lifted my head, eyes raised, invigorated, a hero. I saw my path—mine! It was snaking up the hill, to the grotto. I knew every curve. I knew it. I would meet The Devil at the top. There would be a fight, of course, and I would win.

I’ve known Byrd and Valentina for over a decade. Byrd and I met doing improv in New York, before we both burnt out. I ended up returning several years later, but Byrd decided he’d had enough of that shit, and became a school teacher. Byrd was always an encyclopedia, and emotionally intelligent, so I can only imagine he’s an excellent teacher. He loves Long Island pop punk, goofy, well crafted jokes, The Knicks, and golf.

Valentina and I met when she and Byrd got together. She’s warm and bubbly, with strong opinions and a stronger belly laugh. She has a background in illustration, and now works trying to make people’s lives better as a UX designer. She loves cute things, tea, books, and silliness.

Byrd and Valentina are lovely people. They converted their second bedroom to an office and exercise room, where they also have a guest bed. I was got to take advantage of that bed several times.

They live in Astoria, the same neighborhood where my ex-wife and I used to live. We were there for seven years, before my ex’s art school ambitions and COVID moved us out. We would see them a lot, and I needed to see them again in this new reality, to keep seeing them, to develop a new relationship with the place.

I’d wander the streets, seeing familiar shops, restaurants, street corners, parks, all soaked with my past life, someone else’s life. Putting into context all the memories. So much time. Was it always good? Always bad? Always both? Why didn’t I leave, even as the whole thing crashed. Just trying, trying, trying to pull the vengeance out of the ghosts around town.

There are three cats—Peter, Bernie, and Chantelle.

Peter is the oldest, a grumpy tabby. He is a dick. He howls and tries to fight the other cats, and slops around because, as Valentina sarcastically whines in his pretend voice, “my life is so haaaaaard”. He likes to be pet with wet hands.

Bernie is a large, sweet, shy black cat, who mostly spends his time hiding. He’s very affectionate when he feels safe, which, in my experience, ends up being about six minutes a day.

Chantelle is the youngest, the only girl, lithe, with an orange coat, and a born hunter. She has her own time zone, mostly ignoring the boys, and is not very bright. She has a blithe swagger that demands attention without seeking it. She’ll often be in the closet, not so much hiding, but lying in wait.

There’s a big cat puzzle in the middle of the living room. It’s this big, plastic spiral, with clear tubes wrapping around it. Treats are put in the top, and the cats have to bat them around the twisting tubes through periodic slots to get them down to the bottom and out through a dispenser.

Chantelle was very good at this game. Peter was okay. Bernie would watch from under something.

While Byrd and Valentina were on vacation, I played the first few dungeons of The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening for the Nintendo Switch. The game’s art direction is gorgeous, recalling shiny plastic toys come to life, but with a human, lived-in warmth. The whole time I played, I felt a blanketing sense of childhood, in small part from the narrative tinged with innocence, longing, and impermanence, but mostly because it’s a remake of a game that came out when I was a child. Guiding the hero Link through the dungeons felt safe, and I relished the indulgence of the escape.

How long could I allow myself to stay in the fantasy, the enforced hallucination, the tunnel vision of solving imaginary problems, secure in the non-reality, yet aware of the indulgence, aware of the pushing away of the hard table in front of me, the unread emails? I craved the escape, and allowed it—we all need a break, right?—but not for long. It couldn’t be the last thing I did before bed. I couldn’t play in the morning before work, or during a lunch break. There had to be rules. I couldn’t afford to get lost.

I set out with purpose. I could see Satan’s face in the clouds, really see it, just about! I could hear his laugh, right there at the edge of my hearing. The wind grew as I crested the hill, painting my clothes against my body. Destiny, doom, extravagance, purpose. Fear scattered like insects brought to light. I glowered, coiled. My inevitability laid before me. The grotto, the statue of Mother Mary, the view of New York City. Giddy, I slashed the air with my fists. Again. Again. Again.

I was breathing hard. Satan stayed in my mind.

Coward.

The days were short, the nights were long.

I’d wrap myself in the thick comforter of the guest bed, pulling the covers up over my head to block out the first rays of the morning sun. While I slept, Chantelle chewed off one of my watch straps. Turns out, the watch didn’t need it, so I guess I didn’t either.

The strap is looser, but here I am, still in time.

I went another two months without writing a media diet! These posts are way too important to ignore for that long, so let’s get into the crap I took in. But before that, look at this 👇 Table of … Read more

Monkey Man was brutal action fun. Big ups to the trans community training Dev Patel how to kick the corrupt cop’s ass. 🍿

Did I watch Friday the 13th Part 6 and 7 last night? Yes, yes I did. Do the teenagers behave like humans? No, they do not. But they do behave like Friday characters, so that’s consistent. 🍿

It’s been a while since my last media diet post—three months, I was horrified to learn. There’s a lot to get through, so I’m taking a whirlwind tour on this one. There’s no … Read more

I watched half of the Red Hot Cheetos movie the other night. It is not good, but I was entertained, but I shut it off. Make of that what you will. 🍿

My January has been monopolized by moving into an apartment and traveling to California for work and to see friends and family. In between all that, here’s what I was watching, reading, and … Read more

I’m missing Godzilla Minus One Minus Color, but then again dogs permenantly suffer from the reverse so I think I’m doing okay. 🍿

It’s the last day of December, and this is my last opportunity to ramble about what I’ve been watching, reading, and listening to. You ready? I’m not. Let’s go. 📺 TV I watched … Read more

🍿 My year in film stats, via Letterboxd. Do I stand behind all my star ratings? No. Will I revise them? Absolutely not. Most interesting takeaway? Only a quarter of the 93 movies I watched were released in 2023.

I went to a Die Hard watch party the other night with mostly folks I didn’t Know in Houston. One person out of maybe twelve hadn’t seen it. Very fun time. 🍿

As December rolls in, I’ve been spending some time reflecting. There’s a lot on my mind, but for now, here’s the media I’ve been experiencing over November. Movies Killers of … Read more

I saw No Hard Feelings last night. Fun, formulaic, funny moments, and as always Jennifer Lawrence is endlessly charming. 🍿

My friend Jon gifted me the classics. 🍿

In my notes, I found some fairly sparse thoughts on listening to Lita Ford’s solo career for the first time. I don’t know why I was listening to it, or what I had in mind when I was taking down notes. Perhaps we can all figure it out together.

I went track for track, jotted down a tiny observation, and gave up after less than two albums. Here’s my essential thoughts in full.

Out for Blood (1983)

1. Out for blood Rocker. Pretty standard hair metal fair.
2. Stay with me baby A little slower, but still upbeat. Has a fun intro bass line if I remember right.
3. Just a feeling Down the middle power ballad.
4. Ready, willing, and able Mean, heavy riff. Stomper.
5. Die for me only Screeching metal riff. Galloping.
6. Rock n roll made me what I am today Hard rocker, more in line with later Runaways runes. Shout-along-style chorus.
7. If you can’t live with it Another dark, similar to “Ready, willing, and able”, but more melodic and less mean.
8. On the run Rolling fast number. Production seems worse than the rest of the record, hard to hear her voice. Maybe it’s the copy?

Dancin’ on the Edge (1984)

Bigger more pop production than the first album.

1. Gotta Let Go Mid-tempo Motley Crue-type rocker, but with more melody.
2. Dancin’ on the Edge A little more expansive, more like a driving metal song.
3. Dressed to Kill Slower, but not quite a ballad. That 80s heavy metal slow-ish attempt at epic.
4. Hit ’n Run Hornier riff, more swing.
5. Lady Killer Talk opening. Another big riff. Not much to distinguish. Gang vocal chorus.
6. Still Waitin’ Driving riff, more pop-oriented. Like a pale version of I Hate Myself for Loving You.
7. Fire in My Heart No comment.
8. Don’t Let Me Down Tonight No comment.
9. Run with the $ Heartbreakingly, no comment.

I did a little analysis of my Letterboxd watch list, to see if there were any interesting patterns. Since the data export only includes the date I added it to the list, the title of the movie, and the … Read more

I just learned that I’ve seen 17 Cate Blanchett movies, which is 18% of the amount of films she’s made. I don’t know what to do with that, but there it is. 🍿

I saw Cocaine Bear last week in theaters, and it was joyous, grind-house, B-movie fun. I see so many reviews miss the point: it’s not Citizen Kane, it’s Citizen Toxie. 🍿

Alamo Drafthouse put out a list of 100 movies they’d want on a desert island back in 2020. Sourced from all their creative directors across the country. I thought it was an interesting place to … Read more

I watched Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles last night. It’s so aggressively naturalistic, I had to sink in, but I found paying attention throughout well worth it. 🍿