Christopher DeLuca

Follow @chrisd on Micro.blog.

In defense of slowness.

Because the job is not to know; it’s to become. A sociopath knows what kindness is and how to weaponize it; a saint becomes it.

Finished reading: The Ghost Brigades by John Scalzi 📚

The tri-boro bridge during the day, shot through a glass elevator shaft.

Stale cigarette smoke is a deeply nostalgic smell for me, even though I never was a smoker. I don’t get to smell it much anymore, which is probably a good thing, since it’s still pretty gross.

I’ve performed in countless improv shows, but tonight will be the first time I’ll host one. Wish me luck.

There’s a dude eating almonds from a plastic carton on the bus, which I don’t have a problem with, but at first I thought they were pistachios and I did have a problem. Who can explain my brain.

Finally, I’m using AI for its intended purpose.

An AI generated colorful image in the style of 1960s pop art. It features singer Wayne Newton dressed as Batman, hands on hips, grinning. An old TV with possibly Wayne Newton on it sits to the side.

Where have all the websites gone? From Jason is spot on. Don’t click the footer.

Anyone remember soap on a rope? I don’t, but Chuck-D rhymes it, so it must be real. Sounds like it would be exactly what it says on the tin, but I refuse to Google it.

My sister and I maybe thirteen years ago. I really chose all that.

Two young white peope standing awkwardly next to each other. The woman on the left, my sister, has long red hair and smiles somewhat uneasily. In the right, is me. I have a red shirt that doesn’t quite fit, khaki pants, a grey blazer, and on my head is a floppy, misshapen dark green fedora. I have a thin, untrustworthy beard. Unkept curls sprout from under the hat. My expression is haunted. We are in a kitchen.

I’m making friends at my new apartment.

A cat stretched out on my lap, toes flared, head dug into my side. She looks at me with one eye. Her expression looks extremely happy.

Some mornings, you just want to listen to Jive Talkin’ 🎵

I really relate to the calm a careful, iterative, and high standards approach to work Dries lays out in The Watchmaker’s Approach to Web Development. In fact, I think it’s a big part of why I have a career.

After nine months of couch surfing, I’ve been able to move into an apartment. I’m so grateful to everyone who hosted and supported me and to my new wonderful roommates. I’m very tired.

My co-worker Pauline shared this poem from Mary Oliver, and it hit me hard. Truly beautiful.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

New year, new underwear. I should make this an annual habit, instead of every decade.

Seen on the storefront of a local medical center.

A tv screen outside a building with text reading “syntax error. Incorrect command. Syntax error. Failure reading sector and then a memory address. Press any key to continue “

Happy new year, from lasers with love.

New York City skyline through a full screen window, the reflection of a red line in it seeming to shoot from a water tower in silhouette

Media diet - December 2023

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 a bit of SNL, some Peppa Pig, old Seinfeld reruns, and a solid amount of contemporary commercials while visiting Houston.

The SNL episode I caught some of was the one with Adam Driver as host. A lot of the sketches had kind of weak premises, but Adam’s stone-faced commitment saved it.

As for the other shows, I’m too old to have an opinion on Peppa Pig, and reviewing Seinfeld in 2023 is like reviewing sedimentary rock—who cares?

🎵 Music

I listened to a lot of the same records as I did last month, so refer back to that if you’re interested. However, I did branch out a bit, even if it was largely revisiting familiar territory. Here’s a sampling of what I’ve been listening to.

STRUGGLER by Genesis Owusu

I first heard the opening track, Leaving the Light, from Matthew Perpetua’s flux blog back in June, and loved it, but only got around to buying the full album this month.

I’m finding it a really compelling debut. Genesis weaves lots of genres together—Twitchy Hip-Hop, Psychedelic Soul, Cinematic R&B, Uneasy Devo-ish electronic—finding something new in the melting point between them, instead of a simple collection of disparate parts. I found it most successful in the higher energy, dance-adjacent tracks, although some of the mood-pieces are intriguing.

Owusu repeats lots of confrontational cockroach imagery, in service of explaining the harshness of the life he lives. He also has some wonderfully evocative lines, like Better run, there’s a God, and he’s coming for me..

I think the first track, Leaving the Light, is the strongest track by a good margin, but that isn’t to disparage the rest of the album. I’m excited to hear what Owusu does next.

Aja by Steely Dan

aja album cover. a black field, with the title in red in the upper left. a sliver of a traditional geisha's face and gown slice through the darkness.

It seems like when white men reach a certain age, they are obligated to enjoy the smooth jazz-pop of Steely Dan. I never thought I’d be one of those white men, but I must somberly admit defeat.

While I was in Houston, my friend Andy took me to see a great Steely Dan cover band, and I had a blast. There’s something about seeing a great band live to make you a believer.

I’ve actually been listening to several Dan albums, but I picked this one to feature because it’s widely regarded as their masterpiece, and because the it’s maybe the only Steely Dan cover isn’t hot garbage.

Songs for the Deaf by Queens of the Stone Age

This is one I was pretty into in my youth, but haven’t revisited in years. I have had opening track You Think I Ain’t Worth A Dollar But I Feel Like A Millionaire regularly stuck in my head for the past 15 years, though.

Does it hold up? Eh, it’s pretty uneven, and too long, especially in the back half, and sometimes I really don’t want to hear anything Josh Homme touches for whatever reason, but there’s some fun stuff here. When the opening track kicks in though, and again with the false ending…that’s what keeps me coming back.

Jaime by Brittney Howard

Revisited this gem from 2019 for the first time since it’s release. There’s so much experimentation here, so much exploration, but all in service of the song and the groove. Don’t miss it (or get on it if you did).

Powerage by AC/DC

Powerage album cover. Angus Young, a shaggy haired white male rocker in a school boy uniform, stands with mouth wide, eyes rolled back, as if in pain. electrical wires trail from his sleeves instead of hands.

Yet another youth revisit. This is one I had in heavy rotation in my 5-CD/tape/radio/speaker combo. The AC/DC album for the heads.

Outlaw by Mammoth

Mammoth album cover. A pastel painting of a mammoth skull against a rocky desert.

I haven’t highlighted a single song here, but I’m breaking my own (questionable) rule. I listened to this song a lot. Not just this month, but since the summer. It’s a modern garage rock tune, with a few space noises thrown in. It does nothing new. It’s such a derivative, sweaty throwback, that every time you listen to it your life expectancy decreases.

I love it.

You can listen on Soundcloud.

Random Access Memories by Daft Punk

Random access memories album cover. The robot heads of both members of Daft punk, combined, split equally down the middle.

Masterpiece.

📚 Books

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Mexican gothic book cover. A brown skinned, mexican woman in a formal red dress cluches yellow flowers, arms taught and down. The frame cuts off her eyes.

I wrote about this one last month, as I’d read about half of it. There’s a twist that took me by surprise, and I’m not sure it was fully earned. The tone certainly took a turn, and the narrative had to spend an awkward middle period in an exposition dump, which contrasted sharply with the restrained unease of the first part. Still, I think the novel recovered well, and while the style of the post-reveal was less appealing to me that the before times, I still enjoyed it.

Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

Cat's Cradle book cover. Cartoon of hands making a cats cradle, next to a sun with a face, next to an atomic bomb blast.

Andy had this in the guest room he and Meg set up for me, and I’d never read it. I started reading it before bed, having been on a bit of a Vonnegut kick, and thinking I could finish it inside the one and half week span of my stay. Turns out I could not; I got about half way through. Thankfully, I was able to borrow it on Libby, so crisis averted.

The book is great, kind of the Ur Nuclear/Human Nature Nihilism tale, that manages to refrain from the saccharine or the self pity (and it’s funny!). I also wanted to read it because it mirror’s my improv team’s name.

Old Man’s War by John Scalzi

Old Man's War book cover. An alien planet with futaristic star fighters zooming towards it.

I bought the John Scalzi Humble Bundle this month, and dove into the series that launched his career. It was super fun! Starship Troopers riff, quippy, ironic one-liners, and plenty of action, all wrapped around a core adult love story. And I do mean adult, these characters are in their 70s, and believably so. I’m currently reading the sequel, so I’m all in.


🍿 Movies

Albert Brooks: Defending My Life

Defending my life poster. Albert Brook's head, a white man with a curly afro, circa 1975, a young man. He stares implacably into camera. Various smaller images of him throughout his career adorn the bottom of the frame.

A fun doc about Albert Brooks having a conversation with Rob Reiner about his career. It mostly just made me want to watch his movies.

Dream Scenario

Dream Scenario poster. Nicholas Cage, a middle aged white hollywood actor. He is made up to be bald and chunky. He's wearing chinos and a polo, raking leaves, small in the frame, look fearful and confused.

Weird movie, and I liked it. Glad to see Nicholas Cage once again play a frumpy putz. It’s dark, surreal, milking awkward situations to their breaking point, and it has something to say about attention, and men, and social media. I’m not sure it all comes together in the end, and the ending specifically felt a bit shrug-worthy, as I stopped caring about the characters at that point. However, it does have, objectively, the funniest fart scene I’ve seen in a long time.

Sleepless in Seattle

Sleepless in Seattle poster. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, a young white man and white woman, respectively, stand separated in the frame, looking towards each other but not meeting each other's gaze. Their backgrounds are different. Hanks is against a outside day, clouds in the sky, while Ryan is against the night, sunsetting low over the city.

I’d never seen it, and it felt like a fill-in-the-cultural-blanks type time. Wild thought, it’s good. It was also nothing like what I thought it was going to be.

Sure, I knew it was a romantic comedy, so I had some idea of the overall nature, but I literally knew nothing about the plot, so had just been going off a (wrong) assumption about the title. I figured, okay, sleepless in Seattle—it’s about two Emerald City insomniacs who find love blinking over a pot of coffee.

Also, it’s funny that they made future rom com star Bill Pullman the dewy dweeb to be dumped.

Joe Dirt

Joe Dirt poster. Dave Spade, a white man, wears a long blond mullet, and holds a mop heroically. A golden retriever stands between his legs. A young white blond woman is wrapped around his leg.

This sucked. I know the film has at least one noble defender, who, on her, by my count, 95th rewatch, said, i need him (joe dirt) in a way that is concerning to feminism. And I get it.

Wait, no I don’t. I’m always getting those confused. Yet, there were a few fun moments.

However, man, is this dumb and unfunny. There is also so much homophobic nonsense here, it makes the rest of the ‘90 look tame.

I did watch the whole thing though, but I also ate an entire off hummus sandwich once.

Die Hard

Die Hard poster. A building is on fire, a red explosion at the top contrasting with the greys and blacks elsewhere. Half obscured by the building is Bruce Willis face, a white man, in black and white. He is beat up. He looks fearful but determined, his one visible eye looking toward the building.

I watched this not once, not three times, but twice this month. The first time was at a Houston Die Hard-themed watch party, where I may have gotten too drunk and talked loudly with someone the entire movie then played the Djembe during a jam session featuring made-up songs also about Die Hard. The second time was on Christmas with a few friends who had never seen it, and I wasn’t drunk and paid attention. Both have their charms.

Mike Birbiglia: The Old Man and the Pool

The Old Man & The Pool poster. Mike Birbiglia, a middle aged white man, swims in a pool in a suit.

Birbiglia is always funny, always thoughtful, and his shows always comes together so beautifully. This is no exception.

The Holdovers

The Holdovers poster. A quasi-photorealistic drawing, featuring three people standing in a row behind an oversized smashed christmas ornament. In front is Paul Giamatti, a middle aged white man, to his left is Dominic Sessa, a shaggy young white man, and to his right is Da'vine Joy Randolf, a middle aged black woman.

What a great little bottle drama. Or is it a comedy? No, it’s not a dramedy, those suck at both comedy and drama. When The Holdovers wants to be moving, it is, and when it wants to be funny, it is, and it never sells out the characters in either mode. Just a charming, well executed film about real people getting squeezed in their lives, and trying to connect (or avoid it). Set in the 70s, and shot like it was the 70s. Give everyone an Oscar, including the film grain.

Dial Code Santa Claus

Dial code santa claus poster. Hyper stylized, we see a young white child, maybe 12 years old, dressed as Rambo. Behind him are explosions, christmas decorations, a teddy bear, lightning effects, squares, the whole nine.

Also known as Game Over, Deadly Games, or my favorite, Hide and Freak. This 1989 French movie is Home Alone as madcap horror. It’s executed well, with familiar moves, but belies convention. It’s unsettling because you can’t guess what’s going to happen next (or you can, but you’re wrong). And it’s shot gorgeously! Got to see this in the theater at Alamo in a 35mm print with friends. Get on it.

Bullitt

Bullitt poster. Steve McQueen, a rugged white man, looking determined, leaning against an unseen wall. He is wearing a turtle neck and a gun holster. Superimposed in front are two sleek cars in a high speed chase. Both McQueen and the chase are rendered in pointalism black and white.

Effortlessly cool gets thrown around a lot, but you’d be hard pressed to find a better fit than Steve McQueen in this one. Judging by the release date, I’d guess it set the template for gritty crime dramas of the 70s and 80s. I couldn’t always follow the twisty plot, but I never once cared.

Poor Things

Poor Things poster. Extreme close up of Emma Stone's face, a white woman. She stares into camera, a maybe perplexed, maybe disturbed, maybe placid expression on her face. Superimpsed are in strong blue, purple, and red, are smears of lipstick color run jagged over lips and above her eyes.

For my money, this is Yorgos Lanthimos’s best movie, and I should know, I’ve seen 26% of them. I also think it’s Emma Stone’s best performance, and if that wasn’t enough, we get sleaze-bag Mark Ruffalo and mouth fart Willem Dafoe!

Feminism, freedom, and comedy gold by way of dream-scape Frankenstein. Don’t miss it.

Bob and Don: A Love Story

A framed photo of Don Rickles and Bob Newhart, two older white men, standing back to back.

A touching, twenty-minute doc on the life long friendship between comedians Don Rickles and Bob Newhart. If you’re into comedy, give it a shot. Streams for free from the New Yorker’s website.

Josie and the Pussycats

Josie and the pussycats poster. Josie, a spunky young white woman, wears a guitar and a smirk. Melody, a blond white woman, stands behind her to her left. Valerie, a young black woman, stands to her right, a fierce teeth baring expression on her face, holding up her bass guitar and making a cat claw with her other hand.

I remember the marketing for this one leading up to its release in 2001, and had vague ambitious to see it, but never got the chance. Learning that it was an infamous bomb, I understand my time to have seen it in theaters was short. I hadn’t thought at all about the movie until this month, when John Scalzi blogged about it. His retrospective review convinced me to give it a shot, and I’m glad I did.

It’s frothy, funny, has a stellar cast, and has the most ham fisted music industry satire I’ve ever seen. But joyously so! That kind of stuff can go left quick, and Josie holds it down. Also, the tunes are bangers.

Wrap it up

That’s about it! Happy New Year everyone, and I’ll see y’all in 2024.

🍿 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.

Year in books for 2023

I figured out how to post my year end book wrap up in micro.blog, evidence: this.

Old Man's War Cat's Cradle Mexican Gothic The Haunting of Hill House Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland The Comedians: Drunks, Thieves, Scoundrels, and the History of American Comedy Tread of Angels 50 Years of Text Games Neuromancer Children of Time Piranesi Breakfast of Champions Sourcery: A Discworld Novel Bea Wolf The Kaiju Preservation Society Responsible JavaScript Classic Tales of Horror (Arcturus Classics) The Complete Maus: A Survivor's Tale Be Here Now Flowers for Algernon Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell The Martian Chronicles The Mythical Man-Month Be Love Now HTTP Pocket Reference A Subversive's Guide to Improvisation

Year in books for 2022

Yes that’s right, 2022. Using micro.blog to track my reading is great. It has a nice feature to generate a year in review post like this one. Unfortunately, it doesn’t give me 2023, only 2022. I wasn’t tracking my books last year (seemingly) so this is not representative of everything I’ve read, but I’m hoping that posting this will let the software handle 2023 next. Here’s hoping.

A Civic Technologist's Practice Guide The Number Ones The Kaiju Preservation Society The Color of Magic (Discworld, #1)

Took a hike up in Garrison NY with friends.

Three smiling white people, two men one women, in winter clothes with their backs to a sunset summit. The shadow of a man overlooking a golden summit, bare trees around the top, Hudson River laid out below. A dilapidated brick structure with bare trees and vines growing over it. Indescribable graffiti adorns the wall.

I tested negative this morning 😎😷

What do you call a thirsty piece of fire fighting infrastructure?

A fire dehydrant

I’ll see you all in hell.