Sweet. (Those are lounge chairs buried under all that powder.) We've gotten at least 12 inches in the past 9 hours, and we're supposed to get 10-12 more through tomorrow. It's bad enough that the Governor has declared a disaster emergency. I'm really glad I'm not traveling for Christmas vacation today or tomorrow.
Every year, Time picks their Person of the Year (formerly known as Man of the Year until they got beat down by the PC Police) who has had a major impact on the world over the past 12 months, and this year, they totally copped out. This is a half-assed attempt to address the fact that ordinary average citizens are contributing more and more to the global conciousness through blogs, MySpace pages, and photo and video-sharing (on sites like YouTube, which anyone with a tiny level of awareness will recognize on the screen of the iMac on Time's cover).
While I may not agree with all the choices, I like Sam Smyth's idea of ranking 2006's best movie posters. After a long period of predictablity and unoriginality, interesting and creative design is beginning to make a comeback, at least for movies outside the realm of the typical blockbuster. My personal top pick would be the above poster for The Illusionist, but then again, I'm a type nerd.
I haven't posted anything about soccer in quite a while, but Monday brought the surprising news that DC United had traded starlet Freddy Adu to Real Salt Lake. Freddy was packaged with backup goalkeeper Nick Rimando in exchange for RSL's backup 'keeper Jay Nolly (who's younger and has a much lower salary than Rimando), a major player allocation, and future considerations. When my dad first emailed me the link, I thought it was a joke, but after more consideration, this seems to be a pretty good trade for almost everyone. United unloads a high-profile but somewhat temperamental teenager who hasn't always had the strongest relationship with his coach, and who also seems very likely to move to a team in Europe this summer once he turns 18 (FIFA rules prevent players from playing for teams outside their home country before their 18th birthday). They also move a goalie whose salary was much too high to be a backup and could be starting on several other teams in the league. In exchange, they receive a lot of cap space, the ability to sign several high-profile players they've been scouting before the season begins (rather than in the middle of the year, which would have been the case had they held onto Freddy and he left for Europe), and still receive a good portion of the transfer fee if Freddy does end up being sold to a Euro team.
This is me, on skis and smiling. I post this picture because this is the first known occurrence of this combination. In the past, skis and I have been like oil and water. Downhill skiing, water skiing... it didn't matter where I was, I did not like the feeling of a big board strapped to each foot. But today, that changed. I took my first cross-country lesson, opting for skate skiing (side-to-side motion) over classic (back and forth motion). As the name implies, to move yourself forward, you push off in a skating motion, as if you were ice skating or rollerblading (which helped me). I had my share of falls, some rather spectacular, but I had a good teacher, and I feel like I started to pick it up pretty quickly. By the end of the day, I was skiing 2-mile loops without falling... very much.
It's been about two weeks since my last post. Here's my attempt at a brief review of all the books, movies and music I've absorbed since then:
At least someone remembers that it's still Thanksgiving. The New Yorker hired illustrator Chris Ware to create four different Thanksgiving covers (the one above is titled "Conversation"). In a few simple images, Ware is able to deal with some of the mixed emotions that the holidays bring out in Americans, like the double-edged sword of spending time with your family and the fact that there's really no such thing as the Norman Rockwell idealized version of Thanksgiving anymore (really, it's kind of hard to believe that there ever was). There's something about the melancholy mood of these illustrations that I really enjoy, and I love Ware's style. I'm curious to check out some of his books, like Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth or his collection The Acme Novelty Library. As a online bonus, the New Yorker also included Ware's Leftovers, a haunting stream-of-conciousness graphic piece about a brother who died in World War II.
I haven't figured out yet whether this is incredibly cool or incredibly nerdy (especially since the two things are often the same in my mind). Jim at Krazydad created the image above by arranging old science fiction magazine and novel covers chronologically and by hue. Here's his explanation of the piece. The best part is, it only took him a day to do. Thanks to Wired for the link.
Collecting has never held much appeal for me, mainly because it's not often that I stay interested in something long enough to want to collect it. However, aside from guitars, which are out of my reach for financial reasons, there is one item that I've recently decided is worth investing in. My love of music and my love of design and typography are two fairly constant things in my life, and there is a place where those disciplines meet: the rock poster.
Martin Scorsese's strongest films—Goodfellas, Casino, Raging Bull, Taxi Driver, Mean Streets—followed a simple formula: cast Robert DeNiro, then surround him with talent. Scorsese has made some great movies that fall outside that vein (and didn't star DeNiro), but I always come back to those core movies as my favorites, which is probably why I enjoyed The Departed so much. As DeNiro has aged out of many leading roles, Scorsese has discovered a new leading man: Leonardo DiCaprio. The Departed is Leo's third collaboration with Scorsese (after Gangs of New York and The Aviator), and the formula still holds, just in this case with different pieces. DiCaprio is joined here by a stellar cast, beginning with Matt Damon, who does an excellent job playing DiCaprio's foil/mirror image. Also turning in strong showings are Mark Wahlberg, Alec Baldwin, Martin Sheen, Ray Winstone, and Jack Nicholson in a scenery-chewing performance as an Irish crime boss.
I started to read this interesting column from Wired about how our "tech-enabled activity" is making human beings lose our ability to interact and make personal connections, and how more and more, we're cramming too much into each day. But then I got distracted by recharging my iPod, answering a few texts, emails and phone calls, accessing my work email and calendar from home, downloading some new music, and watching football highlights... all at the same time. Wired says 43 hours of tech activity in a 24-hour day is too much? I say, that's weak.
By now, I'm sure the entire world knows that Steve Irwin, more popularly known as "The Crocodile Hunter", was killed by a stingray while diving off the coast of Australia. I've been a fan of Irwin's infectious energy, childlike wonder, and of course, the Aussie accent, since I first saw his show a few years back, so this news hit me hard. So much so that I haven't been able to watch any of the video memorials yet, like these from Animal Planet and CNN's coverage of the memorial service at Irwin's zoo.But, he added, Irwin would "interfere with nature, jump on animals, grab them, hold them, and have this very, very spectacular, dramatic way of presenting things. Of course, it goes very well on television. It sells, it appeals to a lot people, but I think it's very misleading. You don't touch nature, you just look at it. And that's why I'm still alive. I've been diving over 61 years — a lot many more years that he's been alive — and I don't mess with nature."
Here's why I'm liking Denver: After moving into a new apartment with my brother two weeks ago, I've spent most of my time outside of work unpacking and rearranging, but I'm not complaining. Being in a place with my own stuff again feels so good. We got hooked up with digital cable this week, so on Friday night we ended up watching the entire third season of Entourage on HBO On Demand. Even after three seasons, that's still a quality show, and probably my current favorite. After vegging on the couch all night on friday, we needed to get out, so last night Doug and I checked out Andrew Bird's show at the Bluebird Theater. I didn't think his set had quite the same energy as his performance at Bonnaroo, but he was still entertaining. And today, for a little exercise, we hopped in the car with a few friends and drove to Eldorado Canyon near Boulder, where we did a 3+ mile hike on a trail that rose nearly 1,000 feet. Not only was it good exercise on a gorgeous day, but it made me feel pretty good about Denver and all the options I have for my free time. If I want to be lazy and watch a bunch of TV, I can always do that. If I want to go see live music, the option's there. And if I want to get out and do something outdoorsy, obviously no shortage of places to do that too, all within easy reach. And after a few weeks of moving boxes, rearranging furniture, and finding spots for all my magazines, a little fresh air was just the thing I needed.
The news will come as a shock to no one, but according to a study released today, Americans are getting fatter. 31 states showed an increase in adult obesity over the past year, and in 13 of those states, at least 25% of adults are considered obese. The sad thing is, as the study shows, the increases are for all the obvious reasons—lack of exercise and poor diet, the same things that have been causing increases in fat Americans for decades. But as always, the same obstacles are in place to prevent people from changing their habits. For low-income families, the cheapest food is usually the least healthy. What's someone on minimum wage gonna choose to feed their family of four, groceries from Whole Foods or $15 of burgers at McDonald's? And in our suburban world, walking places either isn't feasible, or else people just don't even consider it because they'd rather take their new Escalade out for that 3 block drive to the grocery store. It's alternately disheartening and disgusting. The study also recommends some tougher measures the government can take to combat this epidemic, but I really don't think putting more labels on cans of food is gonna cut it. At this point, it's cultural. As long as Americans identify ourselves by what fast food we eat, what soda we buy by the case, and how much of our favorite beer we pound down, we're going to keep getting fat. So, to all you fat fatty fat pants out there... here's Mike's tip for the day: Even though it's called "Diet" Coke, that doesn't make it healthy. Just slightly less bad for you than regular Coke.
Nothing like starting off the week with some crappy news. I opened my email this morning to this message from one of my favorite bands, Nickel Creek:
Dearest Listener,
After seven years of extensive touring in support of three records (seventeen years as a band), we've decided to take a break of indefinite length at the end of 2007 to preserve the environment we've sought so hard to create and to pursue other interests. It has been a pleasure to write, record, and perform for you through the years and we'd like to heartily thank you for your invaluable contribution to our musical lives.
Yours,
Nickel Creek
(Sean, Sara, and Chris)
One of the things I enjoy most about reading is exploring new locales, finding cities, countries, and entire worlds that I'm only able to visit through the pages of a book. I like many of these places so much that I'll return again and again (Middle Earth, Narnia, the twisted America that Stephen King created in The Stand and co-created with Peter Straub in The Talisman), but it's always very pleasing to me to find new places that I enjoy, which is why the book that I've just finished and the two I'm about to read are so interesting to me.
George R.R. Martin's A Feast for Crows is the fourth book in his epic fantasy series, A Song of Ice and Fire. This is no Middle-Earth, however. Martin's Seven Kingdoms and the surrounding world are rather loosely based on European geography, and although dragons and magic figure into the story, they are mostly background and history, the dying whispers of a forgotten world. No elves and goblins (and only one dwarf, a human dwarf) figure into this story. The Ice and Fire saga is the story of men and women of several families who vie for power as the kingdom falls apart around them. Martin has woven a rather large tapestry with almost 20 main characters and a host of supporting players (easy to do when each of your volumes averages near 1000 pages), and he's given each one enough depth to keep them all interesting... while they last. One of the things I enjoy most is that no one is safe. Just when you've come to like a character and understand their predicament, bang! A suprise attack or a poisoned cup of wine, and the body count rises. But again, I find myself drawn to the sort of alternate Europe where the story takes place. It could have been like this 8 or 900 years ago, if there were ever dragons and giants. It's not to hard to imagine our ancestors suffering through many of these types of situations. But it's close, and the idea that these people almost existed, that they could have done these things in some far-off time in our history, is very appealing.
And finally, a little closer to home, is Stephen King's Dark Tower series, beginning with The Gunslinger. I've started these books before, having read the first four volumes at least once each, but they always left me unfulfilled (mainly because I knew I had to wait for the end of the story). But having just re-read The Stand, and knowing that King finally completed the seven-book Dark Tower cycle, I decided to go back and give it another shot. In many ways, The Stand and The Dark Tower are similar. King himself has written that both were heavily influenced by Lord of the Rings, that the idea of a quest appealed to him, but that he wanted to make it his own, set in his own place with his own type of characters, and not just a pale imitation of Tolkien. And both stories take place in an America not unlike our own. We're just one plague (and a couple of allegorical angels and demons) away from living out the action of The Stand. The Dark Tower goes a little further away from America as we know it into what's clearly an alternate world, but some of the characters originate from our world (or King's version of it), and even in the Gunslinger's world, there are things we as readers can easily recognize. King even goes so far as to refer to The Stand and a few of his other works during the course of the Dark Tower books, hinting at an underlying thread that binds his entire ouvre together (or at least the more fantastical works in his canon). I'm curious to see what effect this series has on me this time, now that I can read it the whole way through. I've always enjoyed this side of King's work, and it will be interesting to see how he chose to finish it.
Radiohead for babies. Seriously? Seriously. Expect the drug companies to introduce depression drugs for infants any day now. I mean, listen to the mp3 sample. Are these people out of their gourds? Anyone who remembers one day of their own childhood knows that xylophones + minor key songs = creepy as shit. As if Radiohead's not disturbing enough already. Although personally, I think it sounds kinda cool. But I'm sure not subjecting any newborns to it.
Stress has always been a part of my jobs. I tend to take on more than I should, and I have trouble letting go of control because I think it's easier to do it myself than to explain it to someone else. In a deadline-driven industry, that's not such a good combination, since it tends to catch up with you pretty quickly. But I always assumed that when you've got too much work to do, you just put your head down and buckle down until it's done. Don't complain too much, because nobody wants to hear it anyway.
Had my first Red Rocks concert experience last night with a big group of co-workers and friends, and it was a good one: Drive-By Truckers, Robert Randolph and the Family Band, and the Black Crowes. We arrived early enough for all three bands, but chose to tailgate through Drive-By's set. I could hear them from the car, and despite being a fan of their recorded stuff, I can't say I was too upset that we weren't in our seats. On the other hand, I don't think I've ever listened to any of Robert Randolph's albums, but his reputation for outstanding live shows preceded him, so we made sure to be in our seats by the time he started, and were rewarded with a blistering set highlighted by a cover of Jimi Hendrix's "Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)". Very impressive. Despite playing for less than an hour, I felt like Randolph was worth the price of admission alone, and made for a tough act to follow for the Crowes. They played a pretty decent set, although short on hits. I only recognized 3 or 4 songs, but I'm not all that familiar with much of their stuff either, at least beyond their first 2 albums, so I wasn't surprised to hear songs I didn't know. They were still an enjoyable live show.
Well, here's a sight that I didn't see much of in Indy. I took this photo from the roof of my building about an hour ago. My lens didn't go wide enough to get the whole thing, but it was a pretty amazing sight. I could see pretty much the entire rainbow from up there, and my camera definitely doesn't do it justice.
Every once in a while, a series of commercials comes along that I get inordinately attached to. I get a stupid little rush of excitement every time I see one, and no matter how many times I see them, they never fail to make me laugh. Right now, it's Apple that's responsible for my 30-second fixes. I don't whether it's because I'm a life-long Mac user (our first family computer was an Apple IIc that my Dad bought in the late 70's), or just because I find these ads to be unfairly clever at the expense of some computer-geek stereotypes, but I can't get enough of them. I can't escape them either. Thanks to the juggernaut that is Apple's marketing department, whether I'm watching TV or on the internet, there's the Mac and the PC. Also, I love that the guy who plays the Mac is the same kid who got nailed with a wrench by Patches O'Houlihan.
Sacre Bleu, Zizzou! What could you possibly have been thinking? You're in overtime of the World Cup Final, your team is dominating, so what do you do? Lay a vicious headbutt on Marco Materazzi and get red-carded, taking away any momentum from your team and forcing them to spend the remainder of overtime defending, sending the final to penalty kicks where they lose because you, their best penalty-taker, are no longer on the field. I don't care what the guy said to you, you're a world-class athlete in the final (and arguably biggest) game of your career. What the hell? And even if the referee was looking the other way, with that many cameras in the stadium, you're never going to get away with such an obvious, violent foul. It's really a shame to see you go out this way. After a mesmerizing run through the knockout rounds where you rediscovered your magic touch on the ball, you should have been hoisting the trophy. But c'est la vie, no? Life is not a Hollywood movie.
...it's a rare summer blockbuster, one that that uses its special effects to support the story, rather than the other way around. I knew going in that this had to be an effects-heavy movie: after all, it's about an invincible superhero who flies and shoots heat rays out of his eyes. But the thing is, I finally believed it. No more thinking about the wires yanking the actor out of frame as he flies away or how badly the post-production people merged his image onto the background he's supposedly flying past. This is the movie where it finally looks like Superman can fly. And stop bullets. With his eyeball. Ew.
Because everyone wrote them off before the tournament even started because they were "too old". Because no one gave them half a chance against mighty Brazil. Because today, the French showed the Brazilians what Joga Bonito is really all about (and somewhere, Eric Cantona is drinking himself into a happy stupor). Because Zinedine Zidane is looking to take one more medal with him into retirement, and he's playing like he's 24, not 34. Because in my opinion, Thierry Henry happens to be the best player in the world. Because out of all the times they've played together, Zidane and Henry never combined for a goal until today, and I want to see that happen again. Because of all the remaining teams, France is the only team with blacks and whites and Christians and Muslims all working together towards one common purpose. Because the other choices are Germany (the hosts... yawn), Portugal (pathetic bunch of divers), and Italy (cheating match-fixers who I hate simply for advancing out of the US's group when the US didn't). Because a France jersey is hanging in my closet in Indy, and I'd be glad to wear it again. Allez les Bleus!
Sadly, the most exciting team in the World Cup is going home, as Germany defeated Argentina today (1-1, then 4-2 in the penalty kick round). After watching their 6-1 dismantling of Serbia & Montenegro, I had pegged the Argentines as the team to win it all. They had a free-flowing attack and a stalwart defense, and scored a raft of terrific goals throughout their matches, including the unquestioned strike of the tournament, an insane chest-and-volley by Maxi Rodriquez against Mexico in the second round. It's a thing of beauty no matter how you slice it, but best appreciated if you hear the call from an Argentine announcer. Throughout the first and second rounds, Argentina played beautiful futból with a smile, something normally associated with the South American team known for its samba, not its tango.
Well, after 5 days, I'm finally starting to feel settled in Denver. It's still a bit disconcerting to be living in a furnished sublet. I feel like I have to be on my best behavior since it's someone else's stuff (although given the state this place was in when I arrived, I don't think that's much of a worry), and despite being completely unpacked, I still don't feel like I live here yet. My life for the past few days has been a blur of wandering around downtown, searching maps to find nearby stores for cleaning supplies and things I forgot, trying to learn the ropes at work, and catching World Cup highlights whenever I can. All of this is made more difficult by the fact that I'm heavily jet-lagged due to the switch to Mountain Time. I keep nodding off around 9:30, and I wake up at the crack of dawn every morning raring to go. I did finally start to catch up a little this afternoon when I came home from work and grabbed a quick nap by the rooftop pool.
