The Avant Garde Retard

I didn't think I could hate man-dals any more than I already do. Then I saw this.

Perhaps IKEA should market some of their shelving solutions as kitty condos.

Here's to housesitting friends, small dinner parties, tales about weird eats, and bouts with bottle openers! And how about that striking collection of felt pieces on the wall behind them?

My favourite store in the whole world, Secret Headquarters, happens to be about 200 steps away from our apartment and was recently profiled on Boing Boing. How great is it that Dave points out Jodorowsky? I think at one point I emptied out their complete stock of his titles in the matter of a couple weeks, as I went thru an addictive phase of Humanoids Publishing series.

I just wrapped up Ed Brubaker's Sleeper, an addictive noir spy + superhero tale with fantastic art by Sean Phillips, a creative duo I was introduced by Dave at SH (from their work on the Daredevil series. That being said, we're not attending Comic Con this year. Got on it too late and most of my friends don't seem to be heading down to SD again this year. We'll be back next year though.

The Dark Knight puts apologists to shame, proving you don't have to accept the same rehashes of the last 20 years or compromise to create an entertaining summer blockbuster. I've always hated how people often make excuses for big budget films just because they're pop-centric and aim to entertain. Comparing The Dark Knight to another summer blockbuster action flick like Wanted is akin to setting your eyes on a work by Titian after enduring the pop pap of Thomas Kincade (sorry, Wanted was a "C" at best).

Nolan's vision of the Batman is as dark and thought-provoking as the Coen's No Country For Old Men, and arguably more entertaining thanks to its escapist setting. The beauty of The Dark Knight is the film at its core is really a psychological and ethical tug-of-war between two extremes that we all embody. Like all my favourite action films, this films best moments happen when you yourself are dissecting the situations, rather than just sitting through mindless action (though there are plenty of intense action abound).

Nothing is diluted, there aren't any cheezy rock songs or soundtrack intrusions, wasted moments of romance for the sake of romance, the sets and costumes are top notch, the cast and crew bring their "A" game throughout, and a big THANK YOU for the use of a palette that didn't scream "hey, I'm a big blockbuster movie". Not a perfect film, but damn near perfect for what comes down to a film about a clown faced insane criminal (Ledger lives up to the hype) and a man wearing a Halloween costume (I still think he looks pretty dorky when running). The film is filled with baroque plot twists, but never feel contrived, each falling into place with an ease fashioned from thoughtful precision than brute force. Audiences never feel perplexed, but often feel trapped with the same horror many of the characters feel throughout the film, thanks to Ledger's disturbing performance of humanity's worst side. Perhaps not as wondrous and imaginative of a film as the newest Hellboy (which sadly fell into the sorrowful pop pitfalls mentioned above), but tied with WALL-E for favourite blockbuster film of 2008.

The best start of a music video for several long legged reasons. And how fuckin' sleazy suave is Ferry here? The smile at the end...

From a couple weekends ago. We're spending a great many days at the beach this year. It's been a wonderful summer thus far.

On an unrelated note, I've kept my streak alive while playing Scrabulous against sewdarncute, using only blush inducing vocab. I've passed up on some big scoring combos, but it's all been worth it when my word list includes: wanker, sweat, rear, anus, poon, rim, head, sweaty, and ass. I may not be the best Scrabble player, but I'm proficiently filthy, so that should count for something. I'm still trying to score with "felch", but haven't had the opportunity...yet.

When it comes to my workouts, my arms and legs are the most responsive parts, immediately answering to any call of duty to push my booty. My chest on the other hand requires a bit of coaxing, playing coy like a jr. high first date, always departing just before things get good. I've always practiced pushups as a regular exercise, alongside doing a multitude of chest specific weightlifting exercises. But I've never tried to do a large maximum of perfect form pushups ever, always stopping around ±40, when I tire out from consecutive reps. So when I saw this progressive program that builds you up to 100 consecutive reps, I thought, "Heck, why the hell not? I can already do a few. Why not go from a few to a whole lot?"

Six weeks isn't too bad, and it's only ever other day, so I'm gonna make it a goal to finish this program and hopefully come out stronger and better looking from it. Breaking it up into 5 separate sets makes this feasible for almost anyone, and you can change out a traditional pushup for a knee placement variant or even an elevated version for those who are especially strong already. I'm even thinking I might be able to return to those far off memories of doing one handed sets like I once was able to perform. I started off well and I'm already looking forward to day #2 on Saturday!

Check out the program here and hopefully a few of you will join in.

"Much like ants, termites, and some bees and wasps, naked mole-rats are considered “eusocial,” or truly social. They live in large colonies, presided over by a queen, in which only the queen and a few select males breed while the rest of the colony—all members of the same family—work together to raise young and maintain the colony..."

"...Naked mole-rats don’t drink any water and must obtain all their hydration from the plants that they eat. Their high-cellulose diet is also rather hard to digest, and their stomachs and intestines are inhabited by lots of microscopic organisms—bacteria, fungi, and protozoa—that help break down the vegetable matter. Naked mole-rats also re-ingest their own feces in order to maximize the amount of nutrients they get from their food."

-The Naked Truth about Mole-Rats

They're both deliciously enticing ;) I highly recommend you drop by Delicieuse Ice Cream in Redondo Beach if you're in the neighborhood. They make some of the best ice cream I've ever tasted, using goat's milk and a vibrant palette of ingredients. Their cheese sandwiches are a tasty treat also.

Los Angeles, don't let anyone tell you're not beautiful. You've got so many amazing secrets and wonders to uncover. People just need to know where to look.

AMC announced today that acclaimed film actors Jim Caviezel (The Passion of the Christ, The Thin Red Line) and Ian McKellen (Lord of the Rings, The Da Vinci Code) have signed on for the network's reinterpretation of the highly influential 1960s cult classic, The Prisoner. AMC is co-producing the six-part mini-series with ITV Productions and Granada International, with a worldwide premiere slated for 2009. The Prisoner, AMC's second original mini-series, combines a wide range of genres, including espionage, thriller and scifi, into a unique and compelling drama, and expands upon the network's distinctive cinematic approach to creating high-quality programming...

Hmmm, the cast and crew mentioned thus far looks promising, but I'm still a little suspicious of the idea of yet another remake of a classic series, and one compressed into just six episodes. AMC did a brilliant job with Madmen, but that was an original series, not a remake (though I consider Madmen a period piece reinterpretation of ABC's 30 Something when I compare). Hopefully this mini-series can retain not only the suspense and serious charm of the original, but also integrate a similar spirit in the set design and costuming. Because at the heart of original series was a unique sense of being somewhere both recognizable, yet unmistakably different.

One person on the AMC blog notes that at one time there was talks of a movie version to be written by Blade Runner's David Peoples and directed by Christopher Nolan. Now that's a remake I would be more apt to be completely excited about.

Thanks to Ariel for pointing me to this info (have you finished our boxed set yet?).

The reactions I receive when I tell friends and acquaintances, including my fellow Apartment Therapy editors, that I do not own a cell phone range from bemused to sometimes outright upset (magnified by the fact I live in Los Angeles, where I believe babies are now being delivered wearing headsets and MMS their mothers before arrival). Considering I contribute to a tech site, I understand the confusion, but I've never thought having a cell phone was a necessity. Years ago, rumours of an Apple branded handset began to surface, and I would often mention I might reconsider returning to the fold if Apple offered many more features besides voice call service and sported Apple's UI artistry. But when the first iPhone arrived, the limitations of speed and utility softened my desire for an Apple branded cell phone. Watching friends load websites with the speeds akin to your grandfather's fiber deficient bowel movements did little to convince me I was missing out on very much, since I remain dispassionate about cell calls, and was mostly interested in IM, email and blogging features the iPhone hinted at with their first iteration.

"Okay, I'll get the next version, when it's on a 3G network and has additional features I can use," I promised friends who worried that I had regressed to a luddite state, perhaps considering I might appear at the next social gathering on a pennyfarthing and spouting off stories of the "good ole days" and tales about pre-industrial technology.

This is where my father rests. Eight years ago 4th of July weekend was transformed from just another holiday to an annual marker where I return home, both physically and spirit to memorialize my father's life. It's become a much more meaningful time beyond its festive trappings, marked by a remembrance of my father's life, the lessons he shared, and the reminder that home is defined by elements that only become evident with the passing of time, and perhaps lives.

Each of us remembers or mourns in our own way, but each time I visit the cemetery I remember not so much of what I've lost, but fondly appreciate all the memories I was blessed to share with my dear departed father. After visiting my father's grave, I couldn't help but feel assured that he doesn't rest there in the ground, but resides in each of the rooms of the house I grew up in. His loud laughs and cheers while watching the Dodgers in the living room, the merry melodies sung while whipping us up a late night snack of cheese and fruit in the kitchen, the sight of him quietly and diligently working in his home office, the remaining signs of his DIY repairs throughout the house...they're all reminders that a home is not made by the physical things that fill it, but is shaped by the times we share and experience within it.

Despite its tract home heritage, my childhood home is special for the fact that my half of my life was shaped by living within those four walls. The mismatched upholstery, suburban trappings, wall-to-wall carpeting, dark-glossy entryway tiles, the popcorn ceiling...they seem so utterly different from the place I now call home (and likely a great reason why I rebelled against it). Yet, they're comforting in their own strange way because they're forever recognizable as my own history. They smell, feel and look forever welcoming irregardless of the mismatched elements.

Home is indeed where the heart is. I feel fortunate that I believe I have several homes, including my childhood home, the apartment I share with Emily and also the family homes in San Antonio where I've always felt nothing but warmth and welcoming.

It's good to know there are people out there who love bacon as much as I do. In fact, my sister's boyfriend Tim has sworn off all red meats...except bacon. It is amongst the short list of foods that would prevent me from turning vegetarian or vegan completely (alongside real chocolate, butter, sushi and BBQ). It's certainly a food group unto itself, as this bacon chocolate chip cookies with maple cinnamon glaze recipe illustrates.

Holy crap, not only does Maiden have their own Boeing jet...but Bruce Dickinson pilots it.

15 Translucent Creatures Beauties of the Deep

Delicious and smart ad.

via fotolog

In less than 2 hours I will have completed my no sugar, vegan month again. I'm actually heavier than when I started, but my body fat percentage fell and my muscle mass went up which is great considering I've been hitting the weights and cardio hard again. Acid reflux/heartburn has faded away (though I'm finishing my 2 week regimen of medication to see it through) and I feel great overall.

I will be eating meat this month on at least three occasions: once with my mom and sister for my dad's memorial (anything for dad!), another plan for some Brazilian churrascaria which could lead to some trouble, and possibly one more time enjoying a simple burger and fries somewhere (I haven't had one in about three months). Otherwise, the predominately vegan diet is staying in rotation, with plans to eat a minimum amount of meat, dairy and sugar, saving those delectable tastes for special occasions. Oh why, oh why couldn't bacon be a legume?

Remind me to never go skinny dipping.

As much as I thought I wanted to see Wanted this weekend, with plans drawn several days advance, I ended following my gut and steered us toward Pixar's latest offering, WALL•E this afternoon. Jolie and action are always tempting, but at the end of the day, I've always been more apt to follow my boyish heart than my adolescent loins when choosing my escapist opportunities.

If you loved the The Iron Giant there's a lot about WALL•E that will likely appeal to you. I admit...the ole peepers welled up a few times and the jaw dropped aplenty throughout a film that erased any doubts that the Emeryville team is anything but our country's most creative storytellers in pop media. Comparing it the numerous pop-referential schlock presented by other studios previewed before WALL•E, Pixar's masterpiece stood out like an omakase meal from Urasawa on a table with offerings from Red Lobster. The amount of detail evident in each frame and the sheer sense of joy this simple story about a robot in love evokes are equally immeasurable. WALL•E was able to take the same basic premise of Mike Judge's hilarious but rarely seen social commentary comedy (a so-co-co?) Idiocracy and repackage it into a subversive popular culture joyride that might make many viewers reconsider their own production of waste...and their expanding waistlines...all the while providing cinematic moments that can only remind you of Chaplin's best. Definitely in my top three of the year.

I don't know about you, but when I was in 3rd-5th grade, I was absolutely obsessed with stickers. Puffy stickers, scented stickers (remember "pickle" scented stickers?), stickers with stupid sayings on them like "Damn, I'm Good" (one of my favourites), skater stickers (I think I used to go into conniptions over Powell Peralta large format stickers), movie stickers, Garbage Pail Kids stickers...just about anything that I could add to my sticker book. This blog time machined me back to those innocent days when a quarter wasn't laundry money, but a way to add to the joy of a collection. Sadly, I don't remember what happened to my collection. I probably traded it away for an Iron Maiden cassette in 6th grade.

Wow, can you believe Chris Isaak is 52 years old today? There's been many a nights in the past I crooned alongside him with a broken heart. Happy birthday, Special Agent Chester Desmond.

Fellow Valley boy, P.T. Anderson also turned 38. We's all getting old.