a book, a film, a fight

Again, let's keep it brief.

It had a been about five years since I'd last read a Murakami novel and had forgot much of what to expect. I was quickly reminded what makes this guy so exceptional: his creation of seams to the surreal within a familiar world in a manner that, for lack of better words, makes sense. And if it doesn't make sense it's still engaging, which is probably due to Murakami's ability to convey isolation, loneliness, longing and any other synonym better than most authors - making feelings palpable through text is a skill few have. He's one of a kind. And this isn't even his best work. (B+, and in case you can't read the title, it's Sputnik Sweetheart)




I was finally able to track down a copy of this from the library that didn't appear as if someone had resurfaced it with a belt sander. It was worth the wait. I'm a pretty outspoken supporter of the Coen brothers, going so far as to crown them the best directors in contemporary American cinema. So I may be a little biased when I say that this is the greatest directorial debut I have ever seen. Every aspect here has an experienced polish. First try and the Coen's nailed their signature exploration of dark tendencies of human nature. Out-of-place injections of humor notwithstanding. (A-)

And what you've all been waiting for...

Call me a nerd, but I was rejoicing this last Saturday when Cain Velasquez dethroned Brock Lesnar as the UFC heavyweight champion. I called this a while a go but saw some footage of Lesnar training and started to second guess myself - the dude looks like the body that Krang operates (TMNT reference). But Velasquez turned the match into that old biblical parable of David vs. Goliath: size isn't necessarily indicative of victory. Take note: he didn't win with a lucky shot. He beat Lesnar with with well-placed, technical striking - straight T.K.O. He also survived some precarious situations: getting caught against the fence and being put on his back - a position no prior opponent of Lesnar had been able to get out of (save for Frank Mir with a fortunate kneebar on a then inexperienced Lesnar).

So I'm dedicating this one to the first Mexican American heavyweight champion in combat sports. It might seem ridiculous coming from a graham cracker such as myself. Whatever. I've been mistaken for Mexican on multiple occasions. So it's all good. One love.

Grade Report

School this quarter is heartless. Specifically, my architecture course. So my assessment of the arts will be brief.

Entertaining and at times engrossing, but the rabbit hole doesn't run quite as deep as it did in American Gods. (B)














My main question is how these people had the money to eat/drink/sleep out (what seems to have been) every single night. The writers didn't appear to have been writing that much...so I guess they were just trust fund kids? Oh, and reading about it over and over again gets tiresome. Lost generation, indeed. (B-)










Awesome. Nothing more needs to be said. Other than I shouldn't have slept on it. (A)

MLB postseason picks back up tonight: Yankees vs. Rangers. Phillies vs. Giants on Saturday. Forgot how great playoff baseball was. Sad to see Bobby Cox leave the game on loss, even though I used to hate the Braves as a kid because they were so damn good - that combination Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine and John Smoltz has to be one of, if not the most dominant starting rotation of all-time. And even though the Twins got swept by the Yankees in the ALDS this year, enjoy the diddy below. It's titled "Don't Call Them Twinkies" by The Baseball Project - which features Craig Finn of The Hold Steady on vocals and some other dudes from various outfits including R.E.M. The track has some great references to our national pastime's rich history.

If the embedded player isn't working, you can listen to the song here. It's a lot to ask, I know.

A New First

Went to my first baby shower on Saturday. If I'm not mistaken, that's an event traditionally reserved exclusively for the ladies. Luckily, Josh and Emily are post-punk parents, breaking down gender barriers and allowing a fine cuisine that included a platter of Top Pot donuts - straight bangin'. Hope my bear themed onesie and blanky weren't too wuss. Give the kid a couple of years to grow into this beast. It (or something similar) will be waiting for him.


Realized I went to Caleb and Lacey's baby shower a few years ago. Whoops.

Decided that the film version of The Last Picture Show is better than the book. While the book is good, Peter Bogdanovich directs better than Larry McMurtry writes - at least in this case.

Checked out a couple of vegan cookbooks from the library. One awesomely titled Veganomicon. Not waving any flags yet. Really just want to acquire more skill in the kitchen. Hoping there's some practical recipes to be found - not a bunch of stuff you have to shop at co-op markets for. Further hoping one can find tempeh at QFC (cue laugh track). To the haters: (1) would like to see what you're benching, and (2) beef doesn't put muscles on your chin.

Watching the second season of Extras. Endless hilarity. (Episode with David Bowie is brilliant.) One of the best theme songs too.

Studying for a quiz in my Architecture course. Who would have thought learning about building houses was so dry? Contractors, perhaps. I suppose not everyone gets to be Frank Lloyd Wright.

Listening to this winner. It goes out to anyone who's spent cheese they really shouldn't have on those must-have records. My days of blowing all my tips at Silver Platters have come and gone. But that warm fuzzy feeling I got from tearing off the plastic on something that hits the ears' sweet spot...priceless. When I eventually lock down the daily grind, I'll be back scrounging in the bins. Can't deny the dig.