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It's always the same trip... But it never gets old.

Sun, 12 May 2013 17:18:00 -0500

It’s always the same trip. I always pretend to fall over there by the rail. The screen in front of robot Abraham Lincoln never fully retracts. My mom never has enough quarters for the Star Wars arcade machine. My little brother always freaks out when drives that boat; the boat’s on a track. And my sister always saves the day. It’s the same, over and over again. But it never gets old.

Why would it need to change? Look at it; it’s perfect.

He’s talking about a specific trip his family took in 1990, and the countless times he’s revisited that trip via home video, but in a way he’s speaking for anyone who’s visited a Disney park — or any place where potent memories are made — and continued to go back.

I sometimes get a bit embarrassed talking about my relatively frequent jaunts to Disney World. It’s the kind of thing you can’t understand unless you’re part of it, I sometimes think, but the truth is we all understand the appeal; we just find it in different places.

Nobody questions the family that retreats to the same lake house for two weeks every summer, or the graduate who returns to her alma matter for a reunion every five years, or the couple that honeymoons 10 years on in the same spot they first celebrated their marriage. What makes a recurring relationship with a theme park any different, when the emotional impulses are the same?

It’s always the same trip, but it never gets old.

Roger Ebert: The Essential Man

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 00:59:22 -0500

Roger Ebert: The Essential Man:

One more for the evening; the one that really brought it home.

Shortly after getting married, De and I helped pack our (borrowed) living room furniture in a car and sent it down to Texas with her sister. For about six months our primary gathering/living space was virtually empty; just a TV from 1988 and a few blankets and sleeping bags. Throughout those months we spent countless days and nights huddled together on the floor of that room, but the one that lingers was the day I woke up a little earlier than De and decided to pass the time reading through that month’s issue of Esquire.

I wasn’t prepared for what followed, and I’ve never fully recovered. De rose to find me in tears, equally decimated and inspired — a feeling not unlike the one I’ve been grappling with all day today.

I’ve never been able to re-read Chris Jones’ magnificent profile of Ebert, post-transformation. But you should.

Reblog: Roger & Me

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 00:37:00 -0500

From December 2011:

While wandering through downtown Chicago one Saturday night in September, I asked my friend Chris (a fellow Ebertist) if he thought Roger Ebert could identify the moment at which he had transcended film criticism and crossed over into his current identity as sort of the Mark Twain of the 21st century.

We both agreed that he probably could, but after reading Ebert’s autobiography (a now-treasured anniversary gift from my favorite person), I’m not so sure. I don’t believe Ebert is incapable of perceiving his place in popular culture; I just think that, unlike most others with a similar stature, he’s never bothered to do so.

If there was a single turning point, it may have been the day Ebert embraced Twitter as a vehicle for the voice no longer coming out of his mouth. His 140-character compositions have at least made his writing more relevant to me; confessions, manifestos, and exaltations that often occupy otherwise lonely late nights spent staring at this screen just looking for something more.

Whether born of necessity or practice, or both, his ability to regularly craft statements of such power in so few words informs all of his writing now. These are a few of my favorites from his memoir:

On the exporting of printing presses from the headquarters of newspapers:

“Something was forever lost from newspapers when their buildings stopped trembling.”

On the aging of movies:

“The main thing wrong with a movie that is ten years old is that it isn’t thirty years old.”

On the technique of Ingmar Bergman:

“When you’re making a picture about the silence of God, it helps if everyone feels right at home and there’s a pot of coffee brewing.”

On religion:

“I am not a believer. Not an atheist. Not an agnostic. I am more concerned with questions than answers.”

Roger Ebert probably doesn’t know when his writing became more relevant than his thumbs, but that’s because he’s more concerned with writing than being relevant.

The Best We Can Do

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 00:26:00 -0500

The Best We Can Do:

lifeserial:

“I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.”

-Ebert

The Breathtaking Pace of Progress

Tue, 02 Apr 2013 22:33:24 -0500

JFK:

This is a breathtaking pace, and such a pace cannot help but create new ills as it dispells old. New ignorance, new problems, new dangers. Surely the opening vistas of space promise high costs and hardships as well as high reward. So it is not surprising that some would have us stay where we are a little longer, to rest, to wait. But this city of Houston, this state of Texas, this country of the United States was not built by those who waited and rested and wished to look behind them. This country was conquered by those who move forward.

Take “space” out and in its place substitute marriage equality, universal health care… whatever. Any social movement, anything that challenges a status quo. Then try giving me your excuses.

"I can change jobs every year or two — I’ve learned how. But I haven’t learned how to get over those people."

Sun, 24 Mar 2013 21:02:38 -0500

"I can change jobs every year or two — I’ve learned how. But I haven’t learned how to get over those people.":

Melissa Lafsky Wall:

Now here I am, in a new job, surrounded by coworkers I’ve already become attached to — yet there’s pain. I miss my old crew. I miss all of them, like I would miss a close friend who’s moved away, or a lover who’s told me it’s over. My emotional cortex doesn’t differentiate between work bonds and any other sort of bonds. All it knows is that there was a person who was vital and axial and there all the time, and now that person is gone — which leaves loss. It’s a real grieving process, but one that suffers from the lack of a name or classification.

Almost two years on, the nerves that this strikes are still tender.

Nowhere Man

Thu, 14 Mar 2013 07:57:29 -0500

There’s a scene in the original cut of Pulp Fiction in which Mia Wallace interviews Vincent Vega from behind a video camera before the two embark on their dinner date. Mia asks Vincent a number of important questions, but it’s her example, comparing “Beatles people” and “Elvis people,” that has stuck with me ever since I read the original screenplay almost twenty years ago.

My theory is that when it comes to important subjects, there are only two ways a person can answer. Which way they choose tells you who that person is. For instance, there are only two kinds of people in the world: Beatles people and Elvis people. Now Beatles people can like Elvis, and Elvis people can like the Beatles, but nobody likes them both equally. Somewhere you have to make a choice, and that choice tells you who you are.

Like Vincent Vega. I’m definitely an Elvis man. But can I also like the Beatles? Until recently I was pretty confident the answer was “no.”

After a screening of the Beatles documentary Let It Be in a college course on “rock films” (yes, I took a course in college called “Rock Film,” and yes, it was about as great as you would imagine it to be), instructor and raconteur Thomas Crone asked everyone to jot down their top-five favorite Beatles songs and the name of the first Beatles album they owned.

I had nothing to write. As I relayed when called upon in class, and as I’ve tried to explain to countless incredulous friends and acquaintances, I’ve never liked the Beatles. I don’t have any favorite songs, and I’ve never owned a Beatles record. My reaction to hearing their music has always been largely ambivalent, and the widespread reverence for the band only distanced me further (surely something this popular can’t be good…).

The more I was exposed to that reverence over the years, the more my distaste grew. Whenever I heard Joe Strummer rasp, “Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust!” I would pump my fist a little harder.

But something changed late last year. Through another of my head-shaking diatribes about the band, it occurred to me that I’ve never really known the foursome as just “the Beatles” — it’s always been THE BEATLES. But what if it had been the other way? What if I’d experienced the band through the music first rather than the phenomenon? Would my opinion differ?

That’s how I got to what I’m calling Project Liverpool. Never being one to shy away from questionable recreational activities, throughout 2013 I’m making my way through the Beatles’ existence chronologically, album by album, supplemented by whatever contextual cues or historical information I happen across.*

I won’t say I want a revolution — I don’t expect to ever to be a “Beatles man” — but maybe the next time someone brings up the Beatles around me we can all finally come together.

*If you happen to be a Beatles man or woman and know of valuable sources for such material, please do shoot them my way.

The Nobituary: David Bowie

Mon, 11 Mar 2013 12:52:00 -0500

The Nobituary: David Bowie:

Chuck Klosterman and Alex Pappademas exchange emails under the (inaccurate) assumption that David Bowie is dying.

The fact that no one understood precisely what he was doing made him easier to understand, somehow.

Thieves and Liars

Sat, 09 Mar 2013 16:57:58 -0600

“As a writer, you’re always something of a vandal. You’re a tomb raider. You’re gonna go in there and take the things that already exist - drag ‘em out again, and dress them up differently. There is a sense in which you are a thief. It’s no wonder that writers are ruled by Mercury, god of thieves and liars, and Mercury of the double tongue. There is the sense in which you will always steal, and take for yourself, the things that you need. But then you also bring them back into the light. You dust them down, and then you put them out again for people to find in a different way. The whole thing about myths is that they need to stay fluid, they need to keep moving, and they need to be dynamic. And that’s why we can go on retelling them, so that, what is valuable is passed on from generation to generation, across time, through cultures.”

— Jeanette Winterson

via austinkleon

That Kid

Mon, 04 Mar 2013 20:59:44 -0600

I dug out this photo a few weeks ago after a conversation about high school pictures. As far as I can tell, other than a few yearbook formals, it’s the only shot I have of myself from inside school.

The kid in this photo is 17. He’s just had his hair cut for the first time in about six months, resulting in the loss of about four inches of mange and bringing to an end a multi-year period during which his appearance and demeanor could best be described as a cultivated vagrancy. As you can see, he’s still reeling from the change.

I wanted to find this photo for grins, to show it to a few people who may have heard stories about that kid but never had the chance to meet him.

But I also wanted to see him again, myself. We used to be more alike, he and I, but we’ve drifted over the years. I’ve lasted longer then he expected me to, and in the course of doing so I’ve met new people and learned a lot of things. He and I no longer share all of the opinions we used to, and I doubt we’d get along very well today. I’m okay with that, for the most part. He was never very good with compromise.

But despite his faults, the kid believed in himself, and always believed he was always capable of more. I like to think he would say the same about me, so I’m keeping him around to remind me.

"I wake up for myself."

Sun, 03 Mar 2013 21:12:16 -0600

"I wake up for myself.":

Jonah Grant, smart kid:

Since adopting the philosophy of high school being a day job, my happiness with school has increased exponentially. I find that I no longer have any sort of regard for any of the social stigmas of high school and that any stresses over assignments have become accomplishable tasks that, in due time, will pass.

Wake up early before school or work. Run a mile. Walk your dog. Make breakfast. Break your cycle. Breaking your cycle changes the way you look at things, and in turn the things you look at change.

The Future of the Bookstore

Sun, 03 Mar 2013 11:44:22 -0600

The Future of the Bookstore:

For a bookstore to remain successful, it must improve “the experience of buying books,” says Alex Lifschutz, an architect whose London-based practice is designing the new Foyles. He suggests an array of approaches: “small, quiet spaces cocooned with books; larger spaces where one can dwell and read; other larger but still intimate spaces where one can hear talks from authors about books, literature, science, travel and cookery.” The atmosphere is vital, he adds. Exteriors must buzz with activity, entrances must be full of eye-catching presentations and a bar and café is essential.

The element missing from all of the proposals laid out here is personalization; character. Atmosphere is vital, but that atmosphere doesn’t have to be the same in every store, everywhere — and shouldn’t be. Bookstores tried that approach in the ’90s. It was called Borders, and it didn’t last (despite a cafe in every store).

The bookstores that continue to succeed do so because they offer something that isn’t easily duplicated, online or elsewhere: personality. Whether that personality manifests in the staff, selection, or the physical space, the atmosphere should be a reflection of it, not a formula of cafes and lectures that happened to work for one particular store.

Why Medical Bills Are Killing Us

Wed, 27 Feb 2013 20:30:18 -0600

Why Medical Bills Are Killing Us:

If you are confused by the notion that those least able to pay are the ones singled out to pay the highest rates, welcome to the American medical marketplace.

I literally shook as I read Steven Brill’s epic breakdown of inflated medical expenses — not because I was angry (though I was), but because there is nothing —nothing — that terrifies me more than the American healthcare system.

Statistically speaking, you might encounter some pretty heinous stuff over the course of a typical human lifespan in this country. You might be struck in a car accident, be gunned down in an elementary school or movie theater, blown up in an office building. You might, but you probably won’t.

But as it stands today, you are almost certain, pratically guaranteed, to get fucked by healthcare bills at some point. It’s just a question of how badly.

The Hourchive: Movie Directors: Auteurs | Ep #61

Wed, 20 Feb 2013 22:51:44 -0600

The Hourchive: Movie Directors: Auteurs | Ep #61:

As mentioned in this week’s podcast, whenever I see a new Quentin Tarantino film, I watch for a scene similar to one in most of his movies where the main character, often looking into a mirror, gives him- or herself a pep talk in the midst of a pivotal moment. It happens in Reservoir Dogs when Tim Roth heads out of his apartment and goes to meet his new partners in crime as Mr. Orange for the first time. In Pulp Fiction, Vincent Vega dictates exactly what he’s going to do (and implies, by extension, what he is definitely not going to do) with Marcellus Wallace’s wife. Following her escape from a coma ward in Kill Bill Vol. 1, The Bride crawls into the backseat of a car and convinces her unresponsive legs to start working again by talking to herself.

These are all good scenes, but my favorite take is in Jackie Brown (coincidentally, my favorite Tarantino movie).

The scenes in Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill feel like movie scenes. They are conspicuously framed and shot. The moment when Jackie catches her reflection in the fitting room somehow seems more real, random; just a little askew. Travolta and Uma have all the time they need to complete their monologues, but Jackie’s moment of introspection is fleeting, interrupted. It’s clear what’s going through the minds of Mr. Orange and Vincent and the Bride, but what about Jackie? Is she having second thoughts? Does she reach a decision before it’s time to move along, or does life pull her away from her thoughts before she’s finished — the way it sometimes does to us?

Ugly and Mean

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 21:05:49 -0600

Ugly and Mean:

James Reeves stops for gas and stares down disillusionment.

Standing in the grass near every highway ramp, there’s a man holding a cardboard sign. Sometimes it says veteran, sometimes it says father, it always says hungry. I give him a dollar. I try to do this every day, but I know that it’s nothing. I hate these moments when my nation not only looks ugly and mean, but it feels like a mirror.

No One Turns for Home. No One Looks Back.

Mon, 18 Feb 2013 16:44:35 -0600

I’ve read Ryan Andrews’ new comic This Was Our Pact twice now and I’m still a little breathless. Read | Download (name your price)

Chuck Wendig on Coffee

Mon, 18 Feb 2013 14:38:29 -0600

Chuck Wendig on Coffee:

I like good coffee. I grind it and brew it myself. I’ll French Press some motherfucking bean juice now and again, but I don’t get crazy about it. I don’t require my coffee to be run through the intestinal tract of a rare Sumatran rat-monkey, but if you try to serve me Keurig coffee in one of those little pre-configured K-Cups, I’ll break all your fingers with my back teeth.

The Freedom in Being Ignored

Sun, 17 Feb 2013 22:57:14 -0600

By chance I ran across another eulogistic take on Brooklyn’s evolution today, this one from veteran resident David Wondrich, whose essay for Esquire’s March issue (not currently available online) charts the unexpected rise of the borough’s cultural influence and cites an important condition that made it possible.

There’s a freedom in being ignored. Away from the spotlight, Brooklyn developed something people want, and now they’re coming to take it away.

The freedom in being ignored — the idea that one can create something great by being allowed to experiment and fail and learn without the kind of scrutiny or expectations that encompass places like Manhattan or London or Los Angeles — is a concept I’ve heard repeatedly over the last few months, but not in regard to Brooklyn.

We have this great opportunity; yeah, we’re in “flyover country,” but we’re this urban island and we’re so unadulturated and so wide-open that you can really be a part of something great here. It’s big enough that it matters nationally but also intimate enough that you can make a difference and be noticed for your contributions.

That’s Randy Vines discussing civic pride and economic opportunity in St. Louis on the January 17, 2013 episode of Stay Tuned STL.

I’m often frustrated by the inclination some have to judge St. Louis (or any metropolitan area) by comparing it to other cities. In doing so it’s too easy to miss the facets that ultimately give a place like Brooklyn its notoriety. But as St. Louis struggles to reassert itself both to its own citizens and to an increasingly indifferent world at large, there is value in being overlooked. With the freedom afforded by being ignored, the right mix of authenticity and aspiration can make “Brooklyn” happen anywhere. Maybe even here.

All your San Franciscos will have to fall eventually and burn again

Sat, 16 Feb 2013 18:03:04 -0600

Alex Williams for the Times on the breaking Brooklyn myth and the search for compromise beyond the boroughs:

With an increase both in density and in the atmosphere of busy professionalism, Brooklyn no longer feels as carefree as it did, said Ari Wallach, a futurism consultant, who recently cut short a Brooklyn real estate search.

“There is more looking down, less eye contact,” said Mr. Wallach, 38. “The difference is between the first three days of Burning Man, when everyone is ‘Hey, what’s up?’ to the final three days of Burning Man, when the tent flaps are down. Brooklyn is turning out to be the last three days of Burning Man.”

Why We Love Beautiful Things

Sat, 16 Feb 2013 11:21:48 -0600

Why We Love Beautiful Things:

We think of great design as art, not science, a mysterious gift from the gods, not something that results just from diligent and informed study. But if every designer understood more about the mathematics of attraction, the mechanics of affection, all design — from houses to cellphones to offices and cars — could both look good and be good for you.