Thought Chasm

Archive for September, 2007

"god made a few perfect heads….

Friday, September 21st, 2007

…and on the rest he put hair.”

That quote hung in an upstairs bedroom of my grandparents’ house until just recently me ma’s dad was a chrome dome wicked early. dun dun dunnn.. I don’t know where it went, but it came to mind today. On the rail this morning, I saw the epitome of sweetness in shorn scalpness. The guy had between two and three days grow and black hair. The beard was slightly thicker and just a bit longer to be expected.

I’d like to emphasize because I feel it necessary presently that I don’t, in fact, aim my sights on men. I do have a ladyfriend. No, she doesn’t live around here. But, people have met her. Not just in snaps on the Book either, I’m talking in person. I realize now that I’m overcompensating, but lusting a man’s dome doesn’t leave me as masculine as my norm. If I could, I’d challenge anyone to dart, drink or dimwittedness to prove my machismo. But I’m at work, and that’d be foolish and silly.

anyway… I doubt I could pull it off as well as he the guy on the rail, remember him? did, because he had skin tone, hair color, and thickness of growth I can’t match. I may be more ruggedly handsome, but he’s got a lot on his side. I don’t know if he scrapes or not. I’d have to see him yesterday or tomorrow to figure a growth cycle. But the thought of scraping has crossed my mind lately.

There are reasons for such a monumental ok, that’s grandios; really it would be a matter of about one-fourteenth of an inch and two days’ growth change. It ties delightfully into my ridiculous hair regiment. It’s not like I won’t be doing it in a few years anyway. It’s faster than buzzing. I have a perfectly shaped head It’s scientifically proven; I don’t have the study on me, I’m always losing things; I’ll get back to you with that. I can’t get any closer with my trimmer and it still feels sort of long after a few days. And it would finally give me a use for that free Gillette Fusion I got awhile back.

See? Sounds like a no-brainer right? Hold up there a second. Put the damn Mach III down. I don’t know where you even got that. Sometimes I wonder…

Can we move on? Thanks. There are reasons against as well. I don’t know if I’m into the completely smooth look. I don’t know how much of my hair would grow back to reiterate, dun dun dunnn. The replacement blades about $15 for 8 mach III and $25 for fusion are expensive compared to a trimmer that usually lasts about a year about $40. I guess I don’t really know how often I’ll need replacements though. I’d need to buy shave gel for the first time in two years. There’s more wet mess but less hair-all-over-the-sink mess. And I’d have to increase to a three-day schedule.

The other end of that hairless stick is the facial, which grows faster and goes from burn to itch razor burn to overgrowth incredibly fast. The itch isn’t a problem because it would take a good week’s grow to set in. The burn bothers me. I’ve only been clean-shaven once over two years. I stopped because the burn pissed me off. But, I don’t want to be one of those guys with the beard that ends at bare scalp when it reaches the top of their ears.

I could always set up a trial period. A scrape on a late-aft Friday would bring the growth about right for the routine Thursday. I figure I’ll wait awhile, maybe next summer, but that bastard this morning looked so fucking chic. If he’s using a trimmer that cuts closer than mine, I want it. Thoughts from the threes of you?

I lead a stressful life, right?

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here’s to another week…

Friday, September 21st, 2007

It’s Friday, and that means I’m in a better mood than usual. Actually, I guess that’s a bit presumptuous, but nothing bad has technically happened yet, so, s’all good really. It helps to know that people. like. this. exist. It really helps the general outlook on life. at least for me, but that may be more because I get genuine satisfaction from others’ stupidity.

I went to Aura last night. It’s in Calhoun Square. I can’t necessarily recommend it. They have some decent deals $2.50 miller lites, $6 pizzas, some other select apps for $5, but the place itself could use some work. It’s dark as Hell. Well, Hell has those eternal fires going for it, so that’s probably not the best comparison. How about this: I’ll just describe a scenario where you’d find yourself similarly sans-luminescence. You’re trapped in a forest, Bear Grylls style; in the middle of a cloudy night with a new moon; in a shallow cave on the dark side of a hill; with nothing but a Zippo.

That may be a slight exaggeration. The point is, it’s fucking dark in there. But then there’s the size. Some of you have been past it and missed it. Some of you have seen it, but avoided it because of claustrophobia. I completely understand. There’s a row of booths along the wall. If you place a stool on the end of the table to accommodate another, the fire department is called on silent alarm. Not only are you blocking the walkway completely, but you’re risking the lives of about a dozen strangers. They have the entire wall opposite the bar mirrored. Mirrors make a room seem larger. Apparently there are exceptions.

And third, but probably most disturbing, is the D.J. booth installed above the street entrance, overlooking everything. The booth itself doesn’t bother me. There’s a ladder to it, seems to be a decent set up and it actually looks sort of cozy. It’s more that they think they could bring someone in to spin. They could move the tables at the front around and provide a dance surface of about thirty square feet. Not exactly enticing for the get wasted, sweat profusely, rub up on a stranger crowd.

But, as I mentioned, they have decent deals. If I’m around uptown it could be frequented again. As long as there’s less than fifteen people in there already. Sometimes I like having more than myself around when I pound my drinks call it label avoidance; no one wants ‘bonafide alcoholic’ on their resume. If by some stroke of luck more than one person was along with, we’d likely be at maximum occupancy. If anything were to go sour, we’d probably have a scene similar to Ladder 49 right there in the heart of uptown. No one wants that.

In related news, and by that, of course, I mean the opposite how would you like to be on the plane next to this guy? That would have been an experience to tell the grandkids. Or anyone that bellied up to the bar within arms’ reach. Sort of depends on your life goals and a certain level of related achievement. None of my business in either case. To each their own. I recommend Aura.

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contempt

Wednesday, September 19th, 2007

As tribes, we fought with as many dirty tactics as could be implemented. Civilization grew and warfare became regimented. Warriors were respected for their power and skill. Each side respected the other. There were times allotted for the battle of the day. Lines were formed, broken, and reformed, but kept a predictable rhythm. Onlookers packed picnic baskets and were entertained by the gunfire and death. That has all changed.

The Americans defeated the British with primitive guerrilla warfare. It was learned from routine battles with disobedient Native tribes. They hid as the British marched in strict lines. They fired at their target with the benefit of stealth. The British looked upon this as uncivilized, but had to admit to its effectiveness. Even then, each nation had respect for the other.

World War II brought American forces into a dual war. The fighting against Germany was European, while the fighting against the Japanese took on a life of its own. America was fighting an unseen enemy in terrain they hadn’t yet encountered. Jungles, volcanoes, and beaches, were all difficult battlefields. But the worst part of the war with Japan was not their tactics, it was the disappearance of their identity.

The Japanese were seen as a faceless, unified enemy. The evidence of this was in our propaganda and confining them to concentration camps across the nation. Even decades after the war was ended, we have a social divide. Our relationship, unlike in wars previous, did not rebound. It was one of the victors and the defeated. Our history skims past the hardships of the Japanese and our delayed involvement, but emphasizes and exaggerates our heroism.

In all the wars since, at least from an American perspective, the enemy has been demonized. The common ground has been shifted. It may have once been level, but that is no longer the case. Now we can torture our captives, vandalize the dead, and reduce civilians to numbers on a chart without remorse.

America doesn’t take the time to understand the enemy. Their culture is misunderstood and mocked. In Vietnam, the first Iraq War, and the current one, the civilians are terrorized. Soldiers are told that the enemy can be among the masses. They are taught to fear anyone and everyone while being ridiculed for showing fear. They don’t see their enemy as having a purpose. The enemy is merely dirt between the tread of their boots.

I don’t know how we lost respect for our enemies. We haven’t fought a war on our soil in over one hundred forty years. Does that add to our detachment? The threat of our nation being attacked was very real in WWII. Today, it is a grossly exaggerated micro-possibility. Do we see our enemies today as faceless evil simply because we don’t understand them?

This has happened before. There were barbarians described by the Romans. They were without faces. Just a mass of unwashed, uncivilized filth to be looked on with disdain. They infiltrated and destroyed the world’s most powerful empire by exploiting its many flaws. Then they themselves went on to develop the most powerful empires the world has ever seen.

The tactic of defacing the enemy didn’t work for the Romans. Their torture and ruthless destruction of civilians only provided fodder for their defeat. The barbarians recruited easily those that were affected by Roman occupation. They used tribal tactics of dirty war to eat at the Roman’s decaying power. The Romans refused to negotiate or even consider the viewpoint of the barbarians because they lacked the respect to do so.

There can be no resolution without respect. Dehumanizing the enemy only serves selfish purposes. The fact that the enemy is fighting for their lives, their homes, and their families is completely lost. Our forces are already exhausted and stretched beyond their limits. Our economy is faltering on the backs of the ignored poor. The world turned their back on our foolish abstract war. Now that we have lost respect for our enemy, dehumanized them, and misunderstood them, history will repeat itself.

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in the valley of elah

Wednesday, September 19th, 2007

I knew this would be a political film. I.M.D.B. had warned me. I knew it would be a decent film because Jones and Theron were starring and Haggis was writing. But I still had my doubts. Haggis’ brilliance comes with the emotions that saturate his work. His screenplays—Crash, flags of our fathers—are wrought with feeling. My doubts stemmed from this one being more like last kiss than flags of our fathers.

With Crash, Haggis went too far. The film was intentionally racist, but to its detriment. A film about war brings the same emotional layers and I was worried he’d get too caught up in them. With his signature of character contemplation and growth, he doesn’t put a lot of plot into his work. I was right, and I was wrong. It was action-packed with emotion, but the story built itself in a great way. It wasn’t as slow as I thought it would be, but it still felt long.

The story follows Hank Deerfield (Tommy Lee) as he searches for his son, who was reported A.W.O.L. just days after arriving home from Iraq. As a former M.P. investigator, Hank knows his way around a crime scene. He digs where the M.P. doesn’t out of fear they’ll taint their own image. He goes over pictures Mike, his son (Tucker), has sent. A tech repairman emails him videos, ripped from his son’s defunct cellphone, that paint a picture of his experience overseas. With the help of Det. Emily Sanders (Theron), he tries to piece together the truth.

The acting was decent throughout. Tommy Lee did a great job. It’s not his usual character or film, but he made it his own. He had more range in this film than I’ve seen, but I’m admittedly a bit low on my Tommy Lee collection. This film seems to put him on a similar career path to Clint Eastwood (who was originally slated for the role). From the looks of it, he should be able to handle it.

Charlize was good, but she’s relatively consistent. She spent a lot of time staring blankly, appearing to be in deep thought, but that may have been more screenplay than acting; it’s hard to say. Tucker was barely in the film, but showed the desperation, and then hostility, of Mike Deerfield with ease. I’m not a huge fan of Sarandon, but she carried her weight as Mike’s mother and alongside Jones.

Haggis did well with the directing. He conveyed the loss, helplessness, and devotion with ease. He liked to shrink the screen to provide emphasis, using light and silhouettes. It was effective. The use of the videos, recorded off Mike’s cellphone, was smart. The long shots, used to show a character on the verge of a breakthrough or breakdown were strong at first, but grew tiresome. The technique was used too often and slowed the film.

And on the political side of things, it’s intense. This is the most hard-hitting war commentary I’ve seen. The documentaries do their part in relaying facts and realities of what goes on on the ground, but the story that Haggis weaves into this one is outstanding. The subtlety he uses displaying the atrocities of war is incredibly astute. His brand of storytelling, which relies heavily on foreshadowing cues and multiple perspectives, seems to be made for this sort of film.

The conservative see it as an attack and an anti-war film (one woman on I.M.D.B. went as far as to say the actions in it never happened). There’s a strong argument for that. Any film that tries to realistically depict war will cast a dark shadow on warfare itself. But they fail to see the deeper messages. At the heart of this film is a story of loss; a man who has lost a son, a boy who has lost his innocence, and a country that has lost its way. There are hundreds of reports that support the claims made in this film. They may not have happened to a specific family or soldier, but the fact that they collectively happened makes this movie stronger.

It’s the best I’ve seen from both Jones and Haggis as respective pieces in the making of it. Eastwood’s direction made million dollar baby a better film, but this has a stronger message. It’s probably the first to arrive in this year’s film season. I don’t think it has the power or longevity to get the best picture nod, but it touches on controversial issues—and that’s what made everyone swoon over crash.

It’s slow, and subtle, but going into a Haggis film you almost have to expect that. It has many layers, but the sense of loss and despair is heavy. This is not a film for the die-hard conservatives. The message will be missed, which is a shame, in favor of claiming it’s unpatriotic. On the contrary, it is one of the most patriotic films I’ve seen. And I commend Haggis for that.

*****

Tags: see
Posted in chasm reviews | 1 Comment »

cube comedy

Tuesday, September 18th, 2007

I’ve never really been much for random office gab. I don’t care to be honest. but sometimes it’s funny. some details were brought to my attention by an cube-friend that make an email I received almost unbearably hilarious. you may not think it’s funny. that’s your concern I barely have enough concern for myself. but let me describe the scenario:

she I.M.s with this:

holy eff. when [cubeguy] talks baby talk to his girlfriend when she’s being a $&(#&$ I want to smack the @&#! out of him …
[My response, along the lines of, “Huh?”]
he calls her today because he won preseason wilds tickets. he wants his brother to go. she wants to go. he talks to her in baby talk and tells her he really wanted his bro to go. she apparently throws a fit because he gives in and tells her she can go then

so you may notice that he’s a gigantic gaping vagina of a man. I noticed that too. good observation. he has lost all remnants of independence in favor of submission to what appears to be a whiny box. I know, i’m happy for him too, but save your congratulations for me. who’s side are you on anyway?

the story doesn’t end there I’m afraid. approximately one hour later, this thirty-word chunk of digimail drops innocently into my inbox:

I just found out that I will not be able to make it to the Wild Game tonight, so If anyone would like 2 tix come and see me before 5:00.

[cubeguy]

A few questions come up. What did he find out that changed the plan? Will his box be disappointed she’s not going? Was it box that decided for him that he couldn’t go? Does he remember what it was like to make decisions? Was his mother overbearing? Before this, was there a possibility I’d have respect for him? Does baby talk usually work? Or even ever work? Does his brother still love him?

But that’s the beauty of the office. no one actually cares. it’s all superficial gravy. neatly divided by aluminum and felt, meaningful relationships need not apply.

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happy holidays

Tuesday, September 18th, 2007

That’s right. I’m the first to say it. Don’t worry, whatever you’re saying doesn’t phase me. One, because I can’t hear you, and two, because I already hate myself. Because I just got out of a brainstorming meeting. The topic of said storming brains? Holiday promotions. There were cookies. It was my main motivation. I had two, and then another on my way out the door jackpot, by the way; peanut butter chocolate chip; scrumptious. The rest of the meeting is a haze.

From the lapbook, directly to my right, was heard a series of neuron irritating ballots from what sounded like Boys to Men with a merry, quasi-holiday theme. By track two I could feel my gallbladder in a heated argument with my spleen. I don’t know what it was about, but it was almost to the point of raised fists. The meeting proceeded with abstract references to emotional tripe and how we can spin that for monetary return. I didn’t speak up with my theme of, “it’s winter, do your children love you?”

Long-term readers may already know my thoughts on this merchandising cum bucket of a season. Or you can get a brief look at a post from last year, here. It pretty well sums up my feelings on the subject. But, I’ve never been a part of the back-end dealings before. It’s a trip.

What the holidays are about—good friends, family, memories, and sharing, don’t bring in the dollar. Oh, and for those out there along a different track: celebrating—on a day chosen because of existing ceremonies in pagan religions—the symbolic birth of a moral compass doesn’t pad wallets either unless you’re one of the hands that empties the collection plate. But tapping into those abstract values, like one would lodge a faucet into a maple tree, does. It’s how you wrestle what’s hard earned from those that can’t afford it ten months out of the year.

At least I’m working for a business that promotes in a way that adds to the city. It’d be worse if I was promoting a store that sold toys to mothers trying to appease their fuckwad children for three weeks. The money I generate helps support an economy instead of spiking profits to stay out of the read in a failing economy. To all the stores with Christmas theme sections and cards already sorted: fuck you very much.

If I had my way, the holiday season would be four days. And there would be a period of hollow, Mariana-trench-esque nothingness between Xmas/Hanukkah and New Years Eve. Then everything would snap back to normal. But I don’t. And by the time I’m thirty, the holiday season will start on the first Wednesday of August. Just wait ’til December actually rolls around. That’s when I really get in the holiday spirit. It’s intense.