ALARM! :: I should have told you that movies in the afternoon are my weakness.

"Nobody should be a mystery intentionally. Unintentionally is mysterious enough."

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Dudes With Star Trek Haircuts

I love Wikipedia:

By almost all current definitions, emo clothing is characterized by tight jeans on males and females alike, long fringe (bangs) often brushed to one side of the face, dyed black, straightened hair, tight t-shirts which often bear the names of rock bands (or other designed shirts), studded belts, belt buckles, Chuck Taylor All-Stars, skate shoes, or other black shoes—often old and beaten up—and thick, black horn-rimmed glasses.[5][2][6][7][8][9] Emo fashion has changed with time; early trends included haircuts similar to those worn by the Romulans and Vulcans in Star Trek, tightly fitting sweaters, button-down shirts, and work jackets (often called gas station jackets).[6]

I really can't think of a better use for footnotes.

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Thursday, June 21, 2007

Futureshock

Thirty years ago, everybody thought the future would be horrible in a shadow and steam-vent, post-apocalyptic urban blight, Blade Runner sort of way. Idolator delivers the bad news that the future will indeed be hellish, but more in the way of being locked in a pink-walled room and forced to watch TRL 24 hours a day:

To summarize: In two years, there will be no record stores, nobody will be making any money, and every movie-going experience will be interrupted by teenagers playing full-length Ashley Tisdale songs on their Nokia. Does that count as a depression?


OK, but at least I'll be able to get Dashboard Confessional on my video iPhone, right? Somehow I feel like this is relevant, but damned if I could tell you why.

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Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Absolutely Guaranteed to Grow?

I got sea monkeys for my office. The idea is for them to be friends with the Chia Pet in the office next door. As lovers of cute animal photos the internet over are already aware, animals get double cute points when they’re nestled up against each other. This also works for zoo animals, unless they’re eating each other. By the rules of logic, then, one can only assume that similar rules apply to fake pets as well.

They arrived in the mail this morning. (Pets by mail! It’s really true: In New York, you can get anything delivered.) As I eagerly stripped open the packaging, I imagined my sea-monkey-filled future, a host of scenarios for our coming life together: me giving my sea monkeys a bath, me taking my seak monkeys to the zoo, me reading graphic novels to my sea monkeys, me trying to puzzle through 330 page GSE reform bills while my sea monkeys (who, because they come complete with a small, green-plastic tank to live in, have no interest in or particular skill in deciphering housing-finance law, though they do have strong, if sadly misinformed, opinions on overfishing). Surely, I thought, the sea monkeys and I have a beautiful future together.

And then I opened the box, read the instructions, and discovered, to my profound shock and horror, that the instructions said I shouldn’t even open the egg pouch for another day, and that I wouldn’t have full fledged sea monkeys to laugh and play with for another week! What kind of cruelty is this? My emptiness, like the depths of the sea from which those monkeys came, seems to know no end.

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Wednesday, May 09, 2007

New York scenes

I always liked Nighthawks, but I was also never terribly impressed--possibly because of the ubiquity of the image. But Slate's feature on Edward Hopper has converted me. When I strike it rich in... I don't know, whereever someone like me strikes it rich... I'm going to convert my house into a Hopper museum.

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Tuesday, April 17, 2007

OK. Awesome

Giant squirrels rapping a Wordsworth poem. And they're, like, kinda good.

Needless to say, they're British.

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Wednesday, February 07, 2007

My "Me-ness"

And the award for the most insane, most unbelievably narcissistic, un-self conscious, buffoonish interview subject in history goes to. . . internet dating blog celebrity and Gawker gossip fave Eric Shaeffer in this Salon interview by Rebecca Traister.

I submit that I'm no different from 99 percent of everybody. The only difference is that I acknowledge that I have these feelings. I [want] someone who is unconditionally supportive of me in my me-ness.


Nothing to say, really, except. . . wow.

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Monday, February 05, 2007

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

I went up to New York to apartment hunt this weekend, just a single day trip: took the train from Union Station in the morning, came back in the evening. There's something incredibly peaceful about the train. It's quieter than an airplane. You're likely to have a full bench to yourself. The view is nicer, and there are outlets to plug in your laptop or charge your cellphone. It is exactly as comfortable as movies and books suggest that riding a train should.

But there's more to it than just physical pleasantry. It's a calming experience. It's like a massage; it lifts away stress. You sit down, open up your book or your magazine, and for a few hours, you're set. You know exactly where you're going, exactly how long it will take to get there, and for the duration of the trip, your job is simply to occupy yourself. There is a sense of purpose to it—going from place to place for whatever reason—and yet there is also the sense of burdens relieved, of being away from the expectations and uncertainties of regular existence, as you know that for the next few hours, nothing is required of you except to be. It's like a miniature vacation, a time out, if you will, a designated period of time where the only structure is that which is dictated by your location. Yet it is better than a vacation, because in the end you get somewhere; you accomplish something; you serve a purpose.

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Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Just saying.

Greatest Galley Slaves post ever. Just saying.

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Monday, January 29, 2007

First Dance

"The First Dance," Mark Oppenheimer's NYT Magazine piece on the first dance at a conservative Christian college, is a smart, surprisingly gentle piece that fairly accurately portrays a milieu I have some experience with. Ostensibly, the piece is about the relaxation of dancing restrictions at a small, conservative Christian college, but what it quickly turns into is a picture of the way those schools are changing, the surprising (to the author, and probably many NYT readers) decency of its students, and the way that these school manage to carve out a unique, separate college experience from the vast majority of what's offered in modern higher education.

I went to a similar school for part of my college career (though I finished at a state university), and the article captures the experience surprisingly well. Oppenheimer notes the preponderance of, well, less than mainstream beliefs at the college, "In my week at J.B.U., I met students who had never had a drink, had never kissed a boy or a girl and had no doubt that dinosaurs and men walked the earth at the same time." And yet he also thinks that the students he met there were, "for the most part, the kind of thoughtful undergraduates whom top secular colleges would be proud to have." This despite an overwhelmingly conservative political outlook: pro-Bush, pro-Iraq war, mostly anti-abortion (I suspect the way he got the middling figures he got on abortion was by including those who believed it should be legal in cases like rape, incest, and life of the mother as believing that it should be legal in some circumstances). Oppenheimer makes a little more of their differences than I might have, of course--finding that only a third would oppose homosexuals teaching in schools doesn't seem like strong evidence for openness toward gays--but he seems to get that many of the students are independent minded, not Christian zombies.

The line, though, that most struck me, was this one: "The only thing they all agreed on was that there was something special about their campus culture, even the parts they disagreed with." These schools aren't perfect (far from it), and they are faced with a constant struggle over how and when to modernize, but these schools, in many ways, are some of the few places that preserve the old small college experience that's been eaten away by the excess and debauchery of the modern university--wide-eyed kids away from home in the middle of nowhere without much money, getting into mild amounts of trouble, but surrounded mostly by thoughtful individuals bent on reading, learning, and thinking through the problems of life.

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Monday, January 22, 2007

He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved (or not)

I'm moving to New York next month. More on that at a later date, but for now, does anyone have words of wisdom for a soon to be New Yorker who grew up in a small, southern town and stuck to the suburbs in D.C.? What's the best place to see a movie (blockbuster, art house, or revival), drink coffee and work on an article, eat brunch? What's the best New York movie, the one that "gets" the city, its aesthetic, its people, its flaws or strengths? Arts, culture, housing, funny stories, tirades--whatever you've got. Cause I've got zip.

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Monday, December 25, 2006

You'll Shoot Your Eye Out

Aunt Clara had for years labored under the delusion that I was not only perpetually 4 years old, but also a girl.

What are you doing reading blogs? You should be watching TBS' 24 hours of A Christmas Story!

And oh yeah: Merry Christmas. Whatever you do, avoid this:

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Sunday, December 17, 2006

Poorly executed, yet not

Matt Yglesias' explanation of Time's Person of the Year award (which, as you're probably aware, was won by Me this year) is priceless:

I think you've got to give credit to Time magazine. The Person of the Year concept is basically unsound, is obviously basically unsound, is poorly executed each year, is expected to be poorly executed each year, and nevertheless no matter what kind of silly choice they make it gets buzz and sells magazines. Meaning, at the end of the day, that it's actually a really good idea that's always executed well. Other publications would die for a formula that tried and true.

And you've also got to sit back and ponder the ludicrous awesomeness of the interwebs in specific and 2006 in general when you get Yglesias, Ezra Klein, and Tim Lee volleying back and forth over the intricacies of the coming robot economy and using Isaac Asimov's Caves of Steel--which, at 8, was the first adult novel I ever read--as evidence. The nerds have truly won. Long live the future.

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Thursday, December 14, 2006

We have those in raw denim

Forget about the Sartorialist, this is the fashion blog post of the year. Really, who doesn't fret about designer denim in this day and age? And if you don't, move to Brooklyn already. Start a band. Get a blog. For serious. If America put as much time as it does thinking about hot-shit jeans into [insert your pet cause here], why, why, um... I forgot the rest. But you'd be all happy.

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Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Titans of Metal, and Absurdity

I'm really sorry I missed this.

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Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Rock and Roll

Last Sunday night I caught a performance by the Father of Emo, Jeremy Enigk. In the early and mid 90s, his band Sunny Day Real Estate helped launch what would eventually become the (now extremely annoying) emo craze of today. Enigk is the original sensitive, silky-voiced punk rocker. Before there was Ben Gibbard and Death Cab for Cutie, there was Enigk and Sunny Day Real Estate.


As you might expect, the show was quite good, suitably epic and eloquent, and the live setting really shows off how amazing Enigk’s pipes are. On CD, you realize the guy has a good voice; live, when you know it doesn’t have the benefit of ProTools and is booming through club speakers, you understand that it's borderline miraculous.

Incidentally, the show was at Rock N Roll Hotel, D.C.'s newest rock venue in the up-and-coming Atlas district. The venue’s sound is only mediocre (I’ve heard much worse, but also much better; one friend grumbled a bit), but the atmosphere is really nifty. It’s been done up like an actual old-style hotel, and the upstairs bar and private rooms, with their classy antique furniture and musty wooden décor (mixed, appropriately, with rock paraphernalia), well—it’s one of the coolest rooms I’ve been in since moving to D.C.

Addendum: I really like the folks at AEI, but somehow I just don't buy this. I drink far, far, far more coffee than any human should, and I'm definitely addicted. It's so important to my day-to-day existence and my work productivity that I sometimes joke that it's responsible for a significant portion of my life's successes. Come to think of it, it might not even be a joke.

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Tuesday, November 21, 2006

I've got an idea...

First a journal of ideas. Now a magazine of ideas. Let the idea wars begin!

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Friday, November 17, 2006

Open for business

New blog for the office.

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Wednesday, November 15, 2006

You've got a friend in suburbia

Want more friends? Ditch the condo high rise and head for the single-family-home sprawl. What would the world do without economists?

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