Moontides is over. The final three shows of the mini-tour took place over the weekend in Cambridge and I should know, because I was there for all three shows and then some. I shot a shitload of video (including rehearsals, meetings, and various interviews) for use in a project that is potentially overwhelming. There's something like 20 to 25 mini-DV tapes of Moontides-related what-have-you going back several months, all piled up in our dining room.

Once Liza and I get our hands on a new iMac (shouldn't be too much longer now), I will install Final Cut on that baby and go to town. I hope I can do this. The show was unbelievably entertaining and I would like the feeling I got from watching the show to come through in this documentary, or whatever it is I'm going to put together.

The show and everything leading up to it were somewhat emotionally draining, not to mention time-consuming and prevented Liza and I from seeing a lot of each other. We managed to put up a lot of people (mostly Leslie and Briana) in our apartment over the summer, which was certainly a lot of fun, but did manage to make for some cramped situations. Still...all told, it was totally worth it, everyone involved in this show is talented beyond belief, and I'm glad I was a part of it.

The cast party on Saturday night was an unexpected surprise. Colin invited everyone to his apartment in Cambridge, where at one point I counted 21 people in his tiny kitchen. Since I didn't want to leave the borrowed $5,000 video camera in Leslie's car, I brought it with me and thus secured roughly 11 minutes of drunken, post-show buffoonery.

Liza and I will now submit to some form of a normal life, at least for now, while we enjoy married life and try to figure out how the hell to pay for skyrocketing heating costs.

Hi, remember me?

Martina decided that 4 am on Saturday was the perfect time to mercilessly swat the blinds that are about a foot away from my sleeping head. My morning Borders shift suffered mightily as a result.



Fortunately, I had a lengthy afternoon bus ride later that day to catch up on my rest. I went to New York City for one of the two area performances of Liza's latest show.


Scott's artwork hits the big time.

Oh, and by the way, if you're taking a bus to Boston, consider ditching those Fung Wah/Lucky Star shysters and move up to Megabus. It requires a bit more planning and doesn't exactly cater to those who prefer to fly by the seat of their proverbial pants, but the presence of hostile and sketchy travelers is considerably lower, it doesn't seem to get as full as the other bus lines, they don't make futile stops at random Interstate fast-food barf-o-ramas and, well…the drivers speak English. There. I said it.

Back to the show…the venue was the Brecht Forum, a sort of arts center place in the West Village (now officially my favorite Manhattan neighborhood) with a large central room for performances (but not huge). The space was a bit constricting due to the enormous columns that ran through it, but they made the most of it; in fact, they found ways to incorporate the venue's uniqueness into the show.

If you're in the Boston area this coming weekend, the show will be coming to the Cambridge Multicultural Arts Center on Friday and Saturday. Here's how you get tickets.

Liza and I had a quick dinner before the show at the Bus Stop Café, which I highly recommend you check out the next time you're in that area. We crashed at Briana and Justin's new apartment in Brooklyn that night, and the next morning, Liza accompanied me to midtown Manhattan for a quick but yummy breakfast at the Stage Door Deli, which wasn't nearly as touristy as I was afraid it would be.



Can I vent about NYC vs. Boston a bit? Sure I can. The more time I spend in New York, the more I realize how much more accessible it is compared to Boston. Mainly, the availability of shops, restaurants and bars on virtually every city block. And…and! The fact that said establishments actually stay open late! Imagine that! As we were walking from the Brecht Forum to the subway, I couldn't help realizing that it was about 11:30 pm and the city was alive! People were mingling, walking in and out of various businesses, people were getting seated for meals just before midnight! Compare that to my puritanical hometown, where everything practically shuts down around 9 pm (with the exception of a few Beautiful People bars, which I don't frequent anyway). Ideally, as much as I love Boston, I would almost prefer New York…that is, if I were obscenely wealthy. The cost of living is so exhorbitant there that I would have to live in a closet in a shitty neighborhood, and I can't handle that.

Eight days ago, Liza and I saw Randy Newman at Symphony Hall.



Check out our kick-ass view:



Randy put on a wonderful show, but can someone please explain to me why the place was only about one-third full? You can't possibly tell me that many people were watching the fucking Emmys.

This was my fourth time visiting Symphony Hall, and the place never fails to impress me.



And finally…

Apparently Salieri has moved to Jamaica Plain:

First of all...Pandora. Why am I just now discovering this? Thanks to Liza for making me aware of its awesomeness. I've got my Glenn Gould station pumping through the speakers of my new office MacPro and it's making Monday morning considerably more tolerable.

Friday night, Liza and I got a Zipcar and hit Trader Joe's to get the fridge appropriately stocked. Saturday morning I did the usual pre-Borders breakfast thing at McKenna's. By the way, Liza's been joining me on this ritual for the past several weeks. I think it speaks volumes about the quality of McKenna's for Liza to drag herself out of bed at 5:30 on a Saturday morning to head out there with me. Veg Out omelette for her, Early Bird Special for me. You know, the usual.

Saturday afternoon, we visited an open house at a loft condo that's opening on Dorchester Avenue that we will probably not be able to afford, but it was fun to check it out.

Sunday, I worked on a mix/playlist project that started with the best intentions but ended up giving me a giant headache. About a year or two ago, I made a four-hour playlist called 03-08-69, which happens to be the date of my birth. Basically, a chronological sampling of music I've listened to throughout my life. I started it at around 1974, since I don't really remember listening to much music prior to the age of five. Having older siblings around really helped get into "the rock" at the grade school level, but as these types of projects prove, we didn't exactly have the best taste. I can still listen to seventies-era Queen and Aerosmith on a regular basis, and I offer no apologies for my love of classic prog rock like Yes, but do I really need Peter Frampton's "Show Me The Way" stinking up my iPod? Sure I do. I can't listen to that song without thinking of being eight years old. Mission accomplished.

It's interesting to note that I was at the 1981 stage and thinking hard about what Rush song to use when I got a phone call from my brother (we simultaneously discovered that band in the summer of 1981 when he bought a box set of their first three albums). He suggested the live version of "Working Man" (from All the World's A Stage), but I vetoed that and went with "Anthem" from Fly By Night.

At any rate, I kept at it throughout the afternoon, with the only one real ground rule: only one song per artist (which was harder than you think). With the help of my CD collection and aided by "The Beast" (the 275G hard drive of music given to me by my brother last year), things went rather well. It was interesting getting up to the mid-eighties when I began incorporating Squeeze, Elvis Costello and Joe Jackson. Anyway, I got all the way up to 1990 ("Song For Whoever" by the Beautiful South) and was 60 songs into it when exhaustion got the better of me. I think I'm going to split this into two separate playlists. Also, I've decided to change the title. If I'm going to make it a multi-part playlist, I'll have to call the first one 03-08-69, Part I: 1974-1990, and that's just too many numbers. So now it's Straight Outta Winchester. After my birthplace, you see.

These kinds of things always start strong and then I wonder if it's really worth the effort. It's really all in the service of nostalgia, and I wonder exactly how helpful nostalgia is in everyday life.

Wow, I'm hungry. Bye.

Okay. So. Paul Weller, last night, Berklee Performance Center. Amazing.

I can't say I'm surprised. This was my fifth Weller gig and I'm convinced the guy is physically incapable of putting on a bad show.

Killing time before the show started (and minus Liza, who was teaching a dance class and was forced to meet me at the show after the opening act already hit the stage), I headed over to Bukowski's, figuring that enjoying a "pint" would be appropriate Modfather pre-show action. Also, Bukowski's is one of the least Red Sox-oriented bars in the area, and there was a home game about to take place (there were a few Sox fans there, but not nearly as many as you would find at your typical sports bar). Predictably, I ran into a gaggle of British Weller fans headed to the show (including a Scottish bloke with a "Got Haggis?" t-shirt). I talked to one guy at length about Elvis Costello, Morrissey, and we wondered loudly why many excellent British artists can't get arrested on this side of the Atlantic.

The opening act was a young British band called the Rifles, and they were actually quite good. Young, enthusiastic, punky...sort of like a less campy Franz Ferdinand. I lamented to Liza that it's the first time I've ever witnessed a band whose members all look like they're young enough to be my children.

Paul has revamped his touring band this time around. Longtime drummer Steve White sat this one out and was replaced by a young, hungry drummer whose name was not made clear to me. There was also a tall, balding bass player who Liza said looked like the member of an IT department. Also, a keyboard player surrounded by a retro stack of gear, including a Hammond B-3, Moog and Mellotron (on the other side of the stage was a piano and Wurlitzer, which the keyboard player - and occasionally Paul himself - manned from time to time). And then there's Steve Cradock, former Ocean Colour Scene guitarist who's been Paul's right hand man for the last several years.

I don't have a chronological, verbatim setlist, but I do know off the top of my head that the following songs were played: Out of the Sinking, Shadow of the Sun, Wild Blue Yonder, Have You Made Up Your Mind, All I Wanna Do (Is Be With You), On a Misty Morning, Invisible, Echoes Round the Sun, Come On Let's Go, Porcelain Gods, Brand New Start (included in the acoustic set, and the keyboard player and drummer each sang a verse - Liza wanted me to tell everyone that this song was her favorite part of the show), Wild Wood (the band beautifully recreated the sound of Portishead's remix version, making for a particularly trippy vibe), Sea Spray (from the new album - one of my favorite moments of the show), Wishing on a Star, Picking Up Sticks, Butterfly Collector (during the acoustic set - one of only two Jam songs), Town Called Malice (that was the other one), and Speak Like a Child (the only Style Council song he played - amazing new arrangement, and he brilliantly incorporated Chuck Berry's obscure "Come On" at the end).

I'm probably forgetting some songs, but you get the idea.

If you're looking to expand your horizons to different musical artists, I strongly suggest checking out Weller's catalog. There's a ton of great albums out there, and if you want to dig back even further, check out his first two bands, the Jam (if you're a fan of well-written, strongly melodic 70's British punk) or the Style Council (a lot of their stuff is very good, but beware of some cheesy 80's production values and some heavy-handed sociopolitical musings).

I haven't been taking a lot of photos on my cellphone lately, but here's a couple I snapped while Brent and I were trying to fix the CD player at the music info desk last week.





As you may be able to tell from the second photo, we were using my copy of Love's Forever Changes to test the player. "Are you sure you want to use this?" asked a concerned Brent. "Sure," I told him. The next day, the CD was skipping. I'll never learn.

It's amazing how many old navy acquaintances I've been running into via Facebook lately. The other day I was chatting with Cathleen Booth (formerly Kemp), a classmate from my military broadcasting school days, and I decided to scan and send her our class picture.



That's me in the back row, third from right, and probably hung over.

I miss Liza. Bunches. As I write this, she is in Philadelphia - the premiere of Moontides in 23,149 Parts is taking place there over the weekend. In the meantime, it's just me and Martina.



I did watch two Netflix movies over the last couple of nights: Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, which was entertaining, educational, very well-made and affirmed my belief that although life is truly wonderful and full of great things, there are also a lot of greedy assholes out there. Last night I watched Interview with Sienna Miller and Steve Buscemi (who also directed), which was sort of like a 21st century version of My Dinner With Andre with a sex drive. Recommended.

Tomorrow: Rock Band with Suarez, J.C. and Michael! I need it. Work is stressing me out.

One of them is busted for possessing coke, then another one survives a plane crash. Maybe they should put their clothes back on.

Season Two of Dexter is in full swing at Chris & Liza's place. God, I missed this show. And I love Michael C. Hall, too. As an actor, that is. Although I'm sure he's quite possibly a very nice guy in real life. The show has me pining for another MCH joint, Six Feet Under. Liza and I plowed through all five seasons of that show two summers ago and I think it's high time I revisited it. If anyone feels like splurging on a DVD boxed set for me, that's a perfect candidate.

Last Friday, lz1982 and I had dinner in Cleveland Circle, which was a very entertaining and long-overdue reunion. On Saturday, Suarez and I enjoyed burritos at the new Anna's Taqueria location and then caught a preview performance of Liza and Leslie's show, which you should buy tickets for, because it's gonna be super crazy awesome.

Gerard Johnson was one of my best friends from around 1990 to 1994 and then at some point, he sort of dropped off the face of the earth. A previous attempt to search for a long-lost friend last year ended in a tragic discovery, but this one has a happy ending. Gerard is alive and well and living in Connecticut and we've spent the better part of the weekend catching up. Life has the ability to be pretty damn sweet sometimes.

Kicking things off with a music recommendation. I acquired a freebie copy of this new release on Saturday, and I'm pretty happy with it so far.



Mick Hucknall is the lead singer for Simply Red, and if that two-hit wonder leaves you cold (I'm not much of a fan myself), you still might want to give this a shot. Hucknall is on his own here, covering nothing but songs made famous by seminal R&B singer Bobby "Blue" Bland. Really, really good stuff. I like the cover, too. It kind of reminds me of this oft-maligned gem by another Bobby:



Saturday I helped Alethea move into her new apartment. Suarez and Michael helped load the U-Haul in the morning but had to jet due to vet appointments (for each of their dogs). On the unloading end, I was there, along with Jacob, Jess P, Shane and of course: Jones herself. Hauling furniture and whatnot up four flights of stairs in August is no picnic, but we were handsomely rewarded by lunch at Zoe's in Harvard Square (just a short walk from Alethea's new digs, which - for those of you keeping score - is actually Dudek's former digs). Zoe's is amazing and tasty and packed with satisfied customers. I ordered a Reuben omelette. Zoe's is in the location that used to be Johnny's Luncheonette, by the way.

Saturday night, Liza and I decided to walk to Shaw's to get food for dinner, which is another excuse for us to stroll around "OTB" (over the Savin Hill bridge, where the houses are decidedly nicer). By the time we got to Morrissey Boulevard (specifically, as we were walking by the Boston Globe building), we were stuck in a hailstorm. WTF HAIL?? But we're still alive, and we made an excellent dinner of fancy salami and gorgonzola sandwiches and smashed cauliflower, which we ate while watching the Olympics. Liza is more into the Olympics that I am, but I will make one observation that hasn't been broached much lately: Bob Costas is a bit of a tool, and he needs to stop dyeing his hair because it makes him look uber-creepy.

Sunday? I saw Dark Knight for the third time. Let me explain. This isn't one of my favorite movies of all time or anything (although I like it a lot), it's just that I keep finding more people I want to see it with. The first time, it was Audrey and I. Liza couldn't make that screening, so I saw it with her (and Leslie) a couple of weeks later. But I've been dying to go with Scott since I know he would have strong opinions of it either way, so we went yesterday afternoon (thumbs up from Scott, by the way).

After the movie, as we were heading for the T, Scott and I both had to use the restroom, so he offered to let me use one at his office building. "We can go up to the top floor and use the restrooms there," he said. The 33rd floor? Wow! Talk about peeing in style.

The thing about this building is that the top floor is completely empty. Nothing but a concrete floor, restrooms and a commanding view of the city. Time to break out my occasionally operational cell phone camera.

I really like the way this one came out:

Scott (who's the guy in the picture, by the way) said it looked like the final scene from Fight Club.

Dual self-portrait with sunset.


Scenery:






This is so post-industrial apocalyptic. I want to shoot a movie here or something.


This little diversion was such a totally unexpected surprise.


Thanks to this guy for making it happen:

One of the reasons why I haven't been posting much is because my cellphone is acting all wonky, and besides having some minor display issues, the camera portion of the phone is hardly ever working anymore. I've been meaning to take it to the Verizon store in the hopes that they can fix it or replace it, but I haven't had much time for that lately, and plus, getting a new phone (if it comes to that) will probably require me to re-enter all my phone numbers, which means I'll have to start one of those "I Lost My Cellphone - Give Me Your Number" Facebook groups. Remember the old days, when you just happened to know everyone's phone numbers, as opposed to nowadays, when it's programmed into your phone and the actual digits themselves are a complete mystery? Oh, technology! You mean so well, yet you can sometimes be so lacking.

Last Thursday I was hanging out at the new digs Scott shares with Arwen (and their third roommate, Julia), and I was telling Scott how pissed off I was that my cellphone camera no longer works. "See," I said, showing him the phone. Of course, right then and there it began working. So I took a few photos while I had the chance.

Scott posing with mayonnaise. How original.


Arwen's cat, Pebbles.


Here's one that Scott took. While lingering over stinky cheese and Anchor Steam from the nearby Wine and Cheese Cask, Arwen and I peruse the menu from a local takeout joint, Top Speed, which is an extremely inaccurate name (although Scott insists that this was not normal for this usually dependable establishment).


Bonus shot. Here's a picture I took on my street, back in May. I love rainy Sundays, even though I'm sure most of you don't.


As far as recent free music acquisitions go, I can tell you right away that the new Randy Newman album, Harps & Angels, is exceptional. I also scored a copy of the new Ry Cooder album, I, Flathead (we got something like four promo copies of that one, which is practically unheard of). I love Ry's guitar playing, and while there are a couple of songs on this one that don't do anything for me, the majority of it is quite good.

Oh, and I'm not sure if I've mentioned this here yet, but Audrey got us hooked on House. The TV show.

We almost lose Morgan Freeman, then Bernie Mac dies, and now Isaac Hayes checks out?

All I can say is, Bill Cosby had better look both ways before crossing the street.

Hey, here's Scott's stunning artwork for Liza and Leslie's show:



Okay, that's enough time in front of the computer. Liza and I are watching the Olympics. Speaking of which, how is China getting away with letting freaking preschoolers participate on their gymnastics team? Let's see some birth certificates, dammit.

Audrey left for Italy on Wednesday. Sad. We had a terrific time.

Saw The Dark Knight again yesterday, this time with Liza and Leslie. Liza is on her way to Six Flags as we speak, as part of an Improv Asylum employee bash. I'm meeting Scott later this morning to check out his new digs.

The new Paul Weller album, 22 Dreams, is really fantastic. I read a review that referred to it as "Paul's White Album," which makes sense. It's wild, pastoral, experimental and all over the map. His previous attempts at psychedelia often seem forced, but that's not the case here. I think it's his best album since Wild Wood.

I guess that's all I have to write about this morning. How about some photos?

Me and Liza on the T, 6-28-08.


Ashmont.


Pensive Martina.

As predicted, my weekend with the infamous Bob Shunk proved to be quite entertaining. Bob decided to bag his conference thingy in Providence before it actually ended, hopped on a commuter rail to Boston, and met me at J.J. Foley's with suitcase in hand and a thirst for brewskis. I dutifullly pumped quarters into the jukebox, filling the Happy Hour air with Thin Lizzy, The Specials, Weezer, The Smiths, et al, while we bonded over beer. After heading home and dropping off the luggage, we headed to Central Square for Dudek's going-away party.

Here we are on the Savin Hill subway platform. The flourescent glow above Bob's head makes him look like my guardian angel.


At first I was apprehensive about dragging Bob to a Borders party, particularly if there was a low turnout, but that was not the case here. We started things off by intercepting a vodka-fueled Jess G, who we accompanied to Hi Fi Pizza for a slice. Heading back to the party, I was pleased to see Bob mingle nicely with Kenny, Jacob, Adena, Laura C. and many other Borders cogs past and present. It was all a little surreal but not unpleasant in the least.

As I said my goodbyes to Dudek outside, Bob basked in the glow of Central Square's ubiquitous police activity.


Following my Saturday morning Borders shift, Bob and I were joined by Scott and Arwen, and this lively foursome enjoyed a leisurely lunch at the Beantown Pub, followed by a walk to the North End for some espresso and tiramisu at one of my favorite Hanover Street spots, Caffe Vittoria. Scott was killing time before his Improv Asylum shift, so we continued on to the docks, where we watched boats and talked and talked. And talked.

Here we see Bob making a dramatic observation.


Bob and Scott get along splendidly, but in this shot they look like they're about to rumble:


Things look a little friendlier here:


At this point, we were parched, so Scott bought us refreshments at J. Pace & Son, where he also introduced me to the concept of flavored San Pellegrino! ZOMG! Picture kev_bot being hipped to vanilla chai-nog Red Bull, and you get the general idea as to my state of glee.

Scott would make the ultimate pitchman for this fine, fine product:


Bob, however, is unimpressed:


Scott and Arwen: Best New Couple of 2008.


Bob and I eventually headed to Back Bay, where we downed a couple of beers at the Globe Bar and Café and watched the Red Sox get pummeled (much to my indifference). We also talked a lot about food. Bob introduced me to the concept of butter lettuce. Does anyone know about this stuff? Apparently it's the bee's knees, roughage-wise. Oh wow. I'm a dork.

Dinner took place at Charley's Saloon, which, strangely enough, was Bob's idea (he and his wife Andrea ate lunch there when they were here for our wedding). Charley's is a gem of a place. A nice brasserie atmosphere, great food (we both had a couple of nice steaks), and relatively inexpensive (Bob picked up the tab, yay!). Seriously, if you're looking for a nice dinner spot that's not a total wallet-buster, check it out.

Saturday night was topped off with Corona and conversation on our deck, and Bob's mid-afternoon flight home to Portland on Sunday meant that we were able to sleep in a bit. Overall, a great weekend (as great as it can be without seeing my beautiful wife a whole lot) with a great old friend who I hope will stay in my life as long as we're both still around.

I almost forgot: my brother called me last night, and we had a wonderful conversation about music, which is pretty much 99 percent of what we normally talk about. He told me about this video, (cubicle alert: launches audio), which completely brought out the 14-year-old prog rock geek in me. Marvelous.

This weekend will be both sucky and wonderful for me. Sucky because Liza will be out of town until Sunday afternoon. But the wonderful part comes in the form of Bob Shunk, my dear friend whom I've known for 20 years (literally - we met in 1988), and who is in town from Portland, Oregon. Bob is an old navy buddy of mine. We were stationed together at the Defense Information School, or DINFOS, which is where military folk learn to become broadcast journalists. Way back then, it was located at Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indiana (it's since moved to Fort Meade, Maryland). We were also stationed together on the storied Indian Ocean island of Diego Garcia and after we were both out of the military, our paths crossed again in 1994 when we were both living in the Norfolk area. Bob means enough to me that I asked him to be one of my groomsmen last November, which was the first time we'd seen each other since 1995. The whole week surrounding my wedding was pretty hectic (but great), so I'm looking forward to kicking back on the porch with a few beers and reminiscing with Bob. He's in Providence for a work-related conference of sorts, but will be hooking up with me this afternoon and will stay at our place until his plane leaves on Sunday afternoon.

What else is new? I'm still reading It. I threw financial caution to the wind and bought two tickets to Paul Weller's September 9 show at the Berklee Performance Center. This will be my fourth Weller show since 2001. I don't go to nearly as many concerts as I used to, so I thought I'd treat myself (and Liza) to something fun. Paul's new album, 22 Dreams, was released this week and I obediently picked up a copy on Tuesday. I haven't had the chance to really wrap myself in the album yet - I listened to it in the store on Tuesday night but was too busy to give it my full attention, and my iPod's been acting up so I wasn't able to import it until this morning. What I've heard so far is very, very good. It definitely has a moody, psychedelic feel reminiscent of his 2000 album, Heliocentric, but it goes beyond that. I think it's the closest he's ever come to a full-blown concept album. It sounds like the kind of thing that will only get richer with repeated listenings. I recently posted a video here of one of the singles, "Have You Made Up Your Mind," which is simply amazing.

Last night I went with Liza and Leslie to a couple of their show rehearsals in the hopes of shooting good video for my theoretical documentary. The first stop was the Dance Complex in Central Square, where I shot Ricardo's solo routine (performed to Radiohead's "2+2="). It's quite good, and I shot one entire pass of the routine 360-style, which made me a bit dizzy, but was worth it. Then on to an MIT building, where I shot some other pieces in a strange, sterile, very un-arty classroom that doubles as a free rehearsal space. So far, it looks like this show is going to be quite interesting. I really hope that I'm able to pull off some kind of (relatively amateurish) video documentation.

Finally! A barely justifiable reason to post my kick-ass new Nick Nolte jpeg!


An uncharacteristic post. A very myspacey survey. Ganked from businesscasual.

1. What movie have you seen the most times in the theater? How many times?

Lost in Translation. Three times.

2. What was the last movie you walked out of in the theater?

I don't think I've ever walked out of a movie, but if I did, it was probably in 1987 when I went to see Beyond Therapy (an obscure Altman bomb) with a couple friends of mine. We were the only people in the theater and ended up throwing a tennis ball (or something) around the theater. And probably walked out at some point, now that I think of it.

3. What is the first movie you remember seeing in a theater?

The first one I remember seeing was Star Wars, but there may have been earlier ones.

4. What is your favorite movie soundtrack?

Diner. The Big Lebowski. And most Kubrick soundtracks.

5. Have you ever dressed up as a movie character for Halloween? If so, who?

Definitely not.

6. What was the first R-rated movie you ever saw? Were you allowed or did you sneak?

The first one I ever saw in a theater was Beverly Hills Cop. I went with my friends Peter and Chris Cafaro. Their dad "waved us in" at the ticket counter, so we got official approval.

7. Star Wars (orig. trilogy) or Lord of the Rings?

Star Wars.

8. Pacino or De Niro?

They both peaked years ago, so it's hard to say. Probably DeNiro.

9. Titanic...did it suck or was it great?

The acting was hammy and the dialogue was pretty awful ("Picasso? He'll never amount to anything!"), but everything involving the actual sinking was pretty fun to watch.

10. What's your take on Cassavetes?

The godfather of independent film? Believe it or not, I've only seen two of his films (Faces and Gloria.). And I call myself a film snob! I loved him in Rosemary's Baby, but that probably doesn't count.

11. Favorite John Hughes character?

Uncle Buck, or Vernon in Breakfast Club.

12. What movie gives you a boner (or makes you tingle)?

I don't think I understand the question. How about the scene in Shawshank Redemption when Dufresne cranks up the opera on the PA? That's pretty boneriffic.

13. What movie always makes you cry like the big puss you are?

The Pianist.

14. What's the furthest you've ever gotten in a movie theater? (i.e, second base...)

I honestly don't think I've ever done anything remotely sexual in a movie theater. Really.

15. Speaking of sports metaphors, what's your favorite sports movie?

I fucking hate sports movies. Does The Big Lebowski count?

16. Favorite
(a)... teen movie?

Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

(b)...Quentin Tarantino movie?

Interesting that Tarantino's being given his own category, considering the fact that he's only directed six full-length movies. Pulp Fiction.

(c)...Bill Murray movie?

Rushmore or Groundhog Day.

(d)...romantic comedy?

It's completely out of character for me to like this, and there are parts of it that make me cringe, but I have a soft spot for When Harry Met Sally.

(e)...gangster movie?

Goodfellas, with Donnie Brasco a close second.

(f)...horror movie?

The Shining.

(g)...made for TV movie?

Does And the Band Played On count? That was an HBO movie.

(h)...director?

Stanley Kubrick. Nobody else comes close. As far as favorite living directors, Steven Soderbergh and the Coen Brothers. Also: Spike Lee, David Mamet, David Fincher, Martin Scorsese, Roman Polanski.

(i)...drug movie?

Does The Big Lebowski count?

17. What movie have you seen already but will never, ever, ever watch again?

The Last Boy Scout or Armageddon. Quite possibly the two worst movies I've ever seen.

18. What movie are you embarrassed to really like?

Am I the only one who liked Vanilla Sky? Also, I seem to be the only one out there who considers Angel Heart one of their favorite movies. Not sure if that qualifies as "embarrassing," though.

19. What movie should be remade asap?

I suggest a moratorium on remakes.

20. What the F happened to (insert answer)? He used to be so damn funny!

Crispin Glover? He was funny in a really creepy way, though.

21. For the love of everything that's sacred, please someone stop (insert answer) from making another movie!

Rob Schneider. Immediately.

22. What movie do all your friends love but you think is whatevs?

Juno. Or any Wes Anderson movie after Rushmore.

23. What movie do you love but all your friends think is whatevs?

Where do I begin? Altered States, Thirty-Two Short Films About Glenn Gould, My Dinner With Andre, Star Chamber, etc.

24. Best movie ever?

Hannah and Her Sisters.

25. Book you wish would be made into a movie, and who would direct it?

Then Again, Maybe I Won't, by Judy Blume. Directed by Alexander Payne.

Not the most important thing I have to write about today, but I just found out about it, so let's move it to the top of the list: Richard Roeper is leaving "At The Movies." Roger Ebert was pretty much my main reason for becoming a film snob many years ago, and when Roeper joined the show after the unfortunate passing of Gene Siskel, I grew to really like the guy. He was a great smart-ass foil to the more sage Ebert. With Ebert indefinitely sidelined due to health issues, Roeper's been taking the reins with a variety of rotating guest co-hosts. Ebert may never return to television - which would be a great shame - but I've always been counting on Roeper's informed irreverence when making theater-going decisions. I hope that however he chooses to continue his career, it's not a far stretch from what he's been doing for the past several years. He's too good at it.

Also, is it just me, or does Roeper look like John Flansburgh after a makeover?

Speaking of movies! Audrey's final weekend (NOOOO!!) in Boston was highlighted by a viewing of The Dark Knight. Sweet Jesus, you need to see this movie if you haven't already. Even if you have...go see it again. I'm not a fan of superheroes, comic books, graphic novels, etc, but this was just cinematic brilliance. Great story, at 2.5 hours only dragged minimally toward the end, and the casting was flawless. Gary Oldman as a good guy? Huh? But he pulled it off. Amazingly well. Morgan Freeman was underused, which only speaks to how good the guy is when he's onscreen. The hispanic guy from "Lost" and "Suddenly Susan" (Nestor something, I'm too lazy to IMDB it) played the mayor, and I liked him. Bale, Caine, Eckhart, ERIC FUCKING ROBERTS AS A MOB BOSS!?! Someone found the direct-to-DVD rock he was hiding under and wisely put him in this movie. If you need any proof that Roberts is a terrific actor wasting his time in D-Movies, this is it.

And of course, Heath Ledger. This isn't just posthumous hyperbole here: Ledger as the Joker was easily the best thing about an already excellent film. The tics, the walk, the voice, the makeup...one of the most unforgettable villains in recent memory. Expect to hear his name in early 2009 when Oscar nominations are announced.

I find it interesting that Christopher Nolan's directorial debut was a wonderful black-and-white gem called Following, released ten years ago and probably had a budget that wouldn't cover the cost of Bruce Wayne's neckties. While Nolan has been given bigger movies and bigger budgets, the high quality of his films has remained the same. Nice going.

Audrey! Her stay in Boston is virtually over, sort of. She left for Kansas City yesterday morning to spend about eight days with her grandparents (my ex's parents), and will return here a week from tomorrow for a day (literally) before heading back to Europe. This trip has been an absolute blast. The MFA, the Improv Asylum, numerous trips to Newbury Comics, Wall-E, spending time with the family in New Hampshire...it's been a whirlwind extravaganza, and once more pictures have been downloaded and stored, I continue to post them here. In the meantime...

Audrey, me and Liza in New Hampshire:


Audrey (center) with her cousins, Lauren and Michael (my sister's kids):


Audrey posing with a member of the mysterious Blackberry army in Harvard Square:


Also, I'm trying once again to read Stephen King's It. The new Girl Talk album, Feed the Animals, is super crazy awesome good, and if you're part of the Monday night closing crew at Borders tonight, I'll be cranking it in the store while we put out the new releases. Rock on.

I'm at the tail end of my vacation, chilling with Liza and Audrey at my sister Karen's awesome house in Londonderry, New Hampshire. My stress level has plummeted, thanks to Karen's swimming pool, their 56-inch plasma screen TV, the presence of my daughter and various other positive factors. Liza and I are heading back to Boston tonight (Audrey will be here through the end of the week), and while I'm not really looking forward to getting back to work, I definitely have a better overall attitude, thanks to all the time off and all the QT with the family.

Our time with Audrey in Boston last week was a ton of fun, too: an Improv Asylum show, record shopping (vinyl style) in Cambridge, trips to Harvard Square, going to see Wall-E (amazing film - Kev is not exaggerating), and lots of other shenanigans. I don't have any photos uploaded to Flickr yet, with the exception of this shot of Audrey, shopping for used DVDs at CEX on Winter Street:



More to come. It's a great time to be alive.

So how was your Fourth? Liza and I had a swell time: eating, drinking and watching fireworks on the roof of Jen's apartment in Beacon Hill.



As you can see, many Beacon Hill residents do this kind of thing when bright shiny explosions are scheduled. As the sun went down, the sky turned strikingly awesome:



And then there were the fireworks themselves, which were nice, but there's only so much a cellphone camera can convey:



Yeah, you get the idea.



Earlier that day, I had a great phone conversation with my brother Gary. He finally finished Barry Miles' biography of Frank Zappa, and I was really the only person he could effectively talk to about it. Then I told him I had just finished the Warren Zevon biography and urged him to pick it up. This lead to me telling him that I had recently unearthed his 25-year-old paperback copy of Isaac Asimov's Foundation, and we discussed Gary's sci-fi phase of the 1980s. It's not often that Gary and I pontificate about books (as opposed to music), so it's worth blogging about.

Today is the first day of my week-and-a-half vacation. Audrey's flight will be arriving this afternoon, so I'm busy doing laundry, vacuuming, etc. Yesterday Liza and I hit Trader Joe's, so the kitchen's stocked. I'm still working most of my Borders shifts over the next couple of weeks, but I've taken seven days off the day job, which is nice. Next week we'll be heading up to my sister Karen's place in New Hampshire. Poolside with Liza and Audrey. Summer is here and the air conditioners are engaged. Bring it on.

Paul Weller has a new album out (in Europe, anyway - I don't think it's coming out in the States until next month). I love this song and the video's pretty damn cool, too. Trippy.



And he's coming to Boston September 9. OMG OMG OMG OMG!!

I'm almost finished reading I'll Sleep When I'm Dead: The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon. I bought the book a little more than a year ago, but am just now reading it cover to cover this week. Fascinating stuff, especially for an uber-fan like me. It has me rediscovering his music and looking at it in a different light. Is it accurate to call Zevon "The Norman Mailer of Rock and Roll"? Probably.

This morning, on the stereo at Borders: Murray Perahia's Bach Partitas 1,3 and 4; Keith Jarrett's My Foolish Heart; and Love's Forever Changes, which I'm enjoying more and more. I loaned Dave H my copy of the new two-disc reissue of Dennis Wilson's Pacific Ocean Blue and we talked about the album and how interesting it is that Dennis was the first Beach Boy to release a solo album and that his songwriting and arranging skills suprised a lot of people when they first heard it.

Liza's fundraising yard sale was only marginally successful. Didn't make as much money as planned, but she and Megan (Babs) toughed it out for the duration, while I joined them after my Borders shift. What wasn't sold was promptly dropped off at Goodwill in Davis Square. We got rid of a lot of clothes we've been meaning to pitch, as well as a few dozen mass-market paperbacks. Hit Trader Joe's on the way home and now the fridge is appropriately stocked.

I'm beat. And really looking forward to two weeks in July with Audrey.

In the summer of 1983 - when I was 14 years old and had just moved to Orlando to live with my father - I spent a good deal of time rifling through Dad's LP and cassette collection. Among the tapes was something called Indecent Exposure: Some of the Best of George Carlin. What I knew about Carlin at the time was that the guy swore a lot and was apparently really funny. While this now out-of-print compliation is hardly the best bang for your Carlin buck (I would go with Class Clown or Classic Gold,) I spent an awful lot of time listening to those profanity-laced observations. They made me laugh - and think - a lot.

Prior to discovering Carlin, by stand-up listening experience was limited, I think, to Steve Martin, whose albums Let's Get Small and A Wild and Crazy Guy were in heavy rotation in my junior high years thanks to my brother Gary. While Martin certainly had his "observational" side (and also made me laugh a lot), his image was more as a banjo-playing, eccentric outsider. Carlin was one of us. He looked at the absurdity of our world, leaned over to us and asked, "do you believe this shit?"

I suppose it's fitting that I discovered Carlin through my father. Carlin kind of reminds me of my father. I think Carlin's comedy resonated with my dad. They both bemoan the lack of common sense in everyday life. They were both amused by the absurdity of the English language. They both seemed almost too smart for this world (I should hasten to add that my father is still walking this earth - I have trouble with multiple tenses, I guess). Of course, Carlin made his reputation for his classic bit about Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television, but some of his lesser-known observations made me laugh a lot, too. His Catholic upbringing, sexual connotations in commercials, it was all fair game, and his gift of creating stand-up comedy that almost resembled improvisational jazz fascinated me 25 years ago and still does to this day.

After absorbing Indecent Exposure, I was lucky enough to catch (and repeatedly watch) Carlin at Carnegie, a stand-up HBO special that came out later that year. And there was the almost-as-entertaining Carlin on Campus a few years later.

Although I firmly believed he peaked in the 70s, Carlin soldiered on in subsequent decades. Still pissed, still amused, still wondering where it all went wrong. Like the similiarly blessed - and also departed - Bill Hicks, I'm of the opinion that Carlin was not a cynic - he just felt that we could do better.

It's only 9:25 and today already needs to get a whole lot better...



This is the third time this week that I've gotten screwed over by an office vending machine. Okay, the first two times, they were ice cream sandwiches (including a Chipwich!), and maybe someone was trying to tell me something. But this is orange juice! It's good for me! Don't deny me this, A&B Vending Company!

Here we go again. I'm dumping a bunch of photos off my cellphone in the hopes that you will find them at least vaguely entertaining.



A macaroni-cheese-chicken thing I ate at the Rock Bottom Brewery a couple of weeks ago.



Speaking of food, here's a rather classy photo of Venice Pizza in Dorchester. I pass by this place on my way to and from the T just about every day and occasionally I get takeout there as well. The calzones are quite excellent. They only take cash, which is rather sucky.



The above photo was going to accompany a post about how much I hate it in my office when people reload the office copier and leave the paper "package" sitting on the counter even though there's an enormous recycling barrel about a foot away, but I don't really enjoy posting office pet peeves anymore because too many people are already doing that.



Here's a photo of me sporting a Movement Workshop Group t-shirt. Big MWG fundraiser here in Boston tomorrow night! Keep reading this post for details!



Liza sleeping on the bus back from New York.



Liza sleeping on the bus back from New York, again.



I took this picture in the lobby of Leslie's apartment in case I forgot the address after my solitary afternoon walk around Manhattan. There, now you all know where Leslie lives. Do me a favor and don't stalk her.

Okay, tomorrow night.

Here's the deal. If you want to catch a hilarious show at Boston's Improv Asylum, Friday night's 8 pm show is your chance to do so and help out Liza and Leslie's dance/theater company at the same time. When you buy your ticket by calling 617-263-6887 and mention the Movement Workshop Group fundraiser, half your $20 ticket price will automatically go to MWG. SCORE!

Additionally, your involvement in the fundraiser will allow you to enjoy some free apps and a cash bar in the Improv Asylum's front room that night between 6 and 7:30. There will also be a donation jar if you want to give even more, and you can buy an MWG t-shirt like the one I modeled above (there's actually two different kinds).

So, if you're in the Boston area this Friday and are looking to do something fun and philanthropic, head over to the North End, 216 Hanover Street.

Finally, a picture that made me laugh for a good five minutes when I first saw it.