I listened to this all night. All. Night.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Ode to Jim
Spoiler Alert: Jim and I went to see "Weird Al" Yankovic in concert.
In our lives, we all surround ourselves with people we call friends. It is a rare person, to encounter a friend as good as Jim. Anyone that knows me will instantly know I throw around the phrase "best friend" pretty quickly; in fact, odds are good that at one point I'd of said the same of you. And it's hard not to: putting a definition on the coveted spot of "best friend" is next to impossible. See an earlier entry about Father's Day weekend and a reflection on Wagon and I's friendship, longest running friendship I've had baring only family. So as I let people get close to me I struggle to define what makes who closest to me.
I still don't have an answer, so, multitudes of best friends, sorry.
With all that shit being said, Jim Somerville is indeed one of my best friends. He's the guy tagging along in the back, haphazardly making sure everything is glued together, keeping sentimental roots thick in the past, while blazing new horizons for adventures to come. I think it is the nostalgia Jim has for the hodgepodge of crazy stuff we've gotten into that I tend to enjoy him so much: not many would have as patient and fond memories of Mega Tokyo on his grandmother's computer, waiting out a heat wave or rain shower only to jump into the swimming pool of our unlimited summer fun resource, or that illegal viewing of Kill Bill Jim made possible sneaking the Netflix dvd sleeve into my basement to watch one day after school; of keeping tracks of the numerous bands we discovered over various online cartoon websites (Lodger and Tally Hall, to name a few). And of course. Mopey Fro, the most ill-advised attempt at, well, anything.
Yes, we have lots of good history, but my favorite piece of Jim-cannon I like the most is the circumstance of how he and I met. Somehow, Jim and I both mistakenly joined up with the drama kids in high school and tried out for a play. At one of the first meetings for the ill dubbed "Poland Players," (Giant ***holes would have been more accurate) I saw a large, afro'ed Samoan looking dude wearing none other than a "Weird Al" Yankovic Touring With Scissors shirt picturing Al in his Obi-Wan costume, with shadow dancing on the walls of Mos Espa and tour dates on the back.
I was hard pressed for friends here; I had just transferred over from the Catholic school, and took this as a sign. If this kid liked Weird Al, he would probably like me. I mean, "Running With Scissors" was the first CD I ever bough with my own money, so, why not.
It's entirely possible that the first thing I ever said to Jim was: "Hey, I like your shirt." Knowing what I do now, Jim held back an insult about my trying-too-hard-to-be-cool shirt, and instead, most likely said, "Thanks, you like Al?"
To quote Yankovic himself, "we were inseparable, we did everything together." The school year went on, and I quickly had made myself a good, reliable friend at the high school. Onwards to the summer, I still remember the first time hanging out at Jim's, was actually his Grandma's house, with a pool, a PS2 and a copy of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. This hang-out was mostly filled with the smut of a gangster's rise to the top as shown by Rockstar Games.
I even remember getting yelled at for coming home a few minutes late for lunch, which, and this is the strangest detail, was fried bologna sandwiches.
So, six years later, I am faced with an adult adaptation of our former selves. No, there are no more aimless days spent in the pool, wandering around Poland, but, there is still lots of aimlessness. Grown up aimlessness. I'm glad Jim's stuck around for the ride since we all started changing so much. How do I know I can rely on Jim's constant friendship? The full circle.
That's why this Weird Al concert meant so much to me; not only was it awesome (and an awesome birthday present) but it also showed, that two friends can grow so differently and apart yet still, find themselves celebrating the same traditions from years, literally more than half a decades past.
So what else is to say? The show was awesome, every second of it. Great concert, Al, despite being 51, is a fantastic entertainer, and you can bet I was singing every single word (of the old stuff bawww snobbery.).
Stay good friends.
Friday, July 16, 2010
All These Things That I Have Done
It's been almost ten days, and what a week and a half it has been since I posted last. The way things were when we last met was a travel weary and heavy hearted voice, quietly whispering submissively into the usual routine of a summer's longing.
At any rate, I've gotten into quite a bit since: road trips, visits home, tales of the Orient, concerts oh the concerts, and Freshman Orientation, too. So. Non-sequential catch up posts soon to come.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Bad Case of the Mondays
We had Monday off and I was just beside myself trying to find something to do. I slept in, and, well, that was all.
I'll use this space to wrap up a loose end from earlier last week. I had been playing Heavy Rain, a brilliant film noir style murder mystery game with an amazing spin on both storytelling and gaming. Watch:
To the untrained eye, or casual gamer, this peice will look like a movie, not a game; it'll play like one too. The gist of the whole thing is not how you play the game, it's how you think for the characters. Heavy Rain is sort of tough to explain: it is a narrative expereince, you control several different characters all in some way (most of which don't meet until the end or subtly cross paths at various midpoints in the game) surrounding the insidious murders of the serial "Origami Killer," known for taking young children as his victims and leaving a folded piece of orgiami and an orchid on their bodies.
However, the approach to solving this mystery is not straight forward gaming: mostly, you just have to be quick witted and press various button combinations when the pop up on the screen in order to react accordingly. Example: during the prologue to the game, you are playing Ethan, father of two and loving husband. He has just lost his son in a mall and is trying to run through the crowd to catch him before he stumbles out into the street. During this tense part of the early game, players learn how simple button strokes literally can mean life and death for these characters.
And as it goes on, the game gets more and more exciting. There are portions of gameplay that put the entire body of a character in gamers' hands, and those tense moments lead to nervous waiting for when something will happen, triggering another quick-time event.
This game is clever and new, a great little package that does a big thing: reinvent narrative gaming. I've always joked that when I run the school at where ever I become a professor, I'll teach a class on Video Game Narrative. This will for sure be on my list for that class.
From start to finish, I was completely immersed, invested in the characters, trying to help them solve their flaws, and right up until the end was completely wrong about who I speculated the killer was. We need more games like this, and I need more days off to play them.
I'll use this space to wrap up a loose end from earlier last week. I had been playing Heavy Rain, a brilliant film noir style murder mystery game with an amazing spin on both storytelling and gaming. Watch:
To the untrained eye, or casual gamer, this peice will look like a movie, not a game; it'll play like one too. The gist of the whole thing is not how you play the game, it's how you think for the characters. Heavy Rain is sort of tough to explain: it is a narrative expereince, you control several different characters all in some way (most of which don't meet until the end or subtly cross paths at various midpoints in the game) surrounding the insidious murders of the serial "Origami Killer," known for taking young children as his victims and leaving a folded piece of orgiami and an orchid on their bodies.
However, the approach to solving this mystery is not straight forward gaming: mostly, you just have to be quick witted and press various button combinations when the pop up on the screen in order to react accordingly. Example: during the prologue to the game, you are playing Ethan, father of two and loving husband. He has just lost his son in a mall and is trying to run through the crowd to catch him before he stumbles out into the street. During this tense part of the early game, players learn how simple button strokes literally can mean life and death for these characters.
And as it goes on, the game gets more and more exciting. There are portions of gameplay that put the entire body of a character in gamers' hands, and those tense moments lead to nervous waiting for when something will happen, triggering another quick-time event.
This game is clever and new, a great little package that does a big thing: reinvent narrative gaming. I've always joked that when I run the school at where ever I become a professor, I'll teach a class on Video Game Narrative. This will for sure be on my list for that class.
From start to finish, I was completely immersed, invested in the characters, trying to help them solve their flaws, and right up until the end was completely wrong about who I speculated the killer was. We need more games like this, and I need more days off to play them.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Matters of Grave Importance
Readers will notice I have not mentioned Krista much in this blog, which is in fact, about my summer work. The majority of my summer work is spent complaining and bemoaning the fact that Krista, a major part of my life, is not with me here.
Off in Huron, Ohio working with the theater fellows from BGSU at the Lake Huron Playhouse, putting on five shows in a grueling six weeks. We used to have a joke, a very piggish and sexist joke, that last summer while I was working (you know, "working") I would say she was sitting at home twiddling her thumbs until I called. Shoes on the other foot this time, and I gotta tell you guys, it sucks. A lot.
This is where someone will chime in, "yeah, but she's around all school year, why complain?" And to them I say, get off my blog and stop being my friend.
Long story short, I miss Krista a great deal. Not in like, a suffocating, overly needy way; more like, a nice, I'm really proud of you and excited that you're getting one foot in the door to a successful acting career, BUT, I miss you anyway.
Luckily, the feeling's mutual.
Long story short, I went to see Krista this weekend!!!
Luckily, she's not the only Otterbein-er that works at the Playhouse. Jake Robinson, Adam Shalter and Julie Koenig also find themseleves two hours away from campus. Even more lucky, Julie's totally awesome boyfriend, Kyle Harper, works at Otterbein for the summer. Are you feeling the equation work out here folks?
So Kyle and I road trip up to Huron listening to Weird Al and talking about movies. Finally, we are arrived outside the Playhouse, Krista is waiting for me. It's like a movie, so I'll spare you the details of the most fantastic hug ever.
From there Krista showed me around the very groovy historic McCormic Elementary School, where the theater is held. I was introduced to many, many people, cast crew, the works. Then we sat in the box office and helped sell tickets until it was time for me to take my seat (c-1) and wait for the show.
The group put on "The Melody Lingers On," which was a musical review of Irving Berlin's tunes. I had never realized just how impressive his resume was, so it was a pleasure and a surprise to be hearing songs from Annie Get Your Gun, or "Stepping out With my Baby," and of course, the timely preformance of "God Bless America." The show was awesome, I had a really good time, and get to claim a staticstic I never thought I would: to be surrounded by more people on oxygen, then people not on oxygen.
Afterwords, the cast and crew had to do strike on the set, so I was treated to a second show: "Strike: The Musical." Then, the four of us piled into Kyle's car and drove to the very prestegious, very elite, Huron / Milan Motel 6. I said goodnight to new friends and Krista, and checked out my lodgings: rough. Not really, a nice big queen size bed, a TV that was broadcasting "A New Hope" on Spike (no complaints) and an air conditioner; all the essentials. I climbed into bed and fell asleep, looking forward to the coming morning.
So, after a nice morning sleeping in, I meet up with Krista again and we shoot over to the lakeside for a picnik with her friends. Three words: take notes Otterbein. I hadn't had burgers that good in a long time, so I had to eat a lot. I also got to see Jake, another Otterbeiner at the playhouse being his usual goofy self. We also shared good stories and watermellon so juicy, water was not necessary despite temeptures reaching the 90s.
Post picnik, we ran a few errands: laundry mostly, checked into getting Krista a new phone, looked at some shoes at the Sandusky Mall (good thing the kids have Cedar Point to go to...) and then it was back to the Playhouse before I knew it.
All day Krista had been appologetic that we didn't get to do anything, just her chores. I couldn't reassure her enough that it was fine. And it was. I've grown to love and even be excited by the monotonous, the mundane, when these tasks are shared with her. I think, how similar is a laundramat in Huron to where perhaps in the East Village we will do laundry until I make tenure and we can get a house outside of the city? Wishful thinking, but nice.
And it was somewhere after losing to several games of Spit and half the ride home, that I realized how much I was missing Krista already, and how I could only look forward to a not too far from now time, where we can share each other's company passing time washing dishes, cleaning clothes or moving furnature.
It was good to see her, and even though my iPod played a cruel trick on me walking back from Kyle's house to my apartment (First Day of My Life) I have nothing but happy and warm, lovely memories from last weekend.
Off in Huron, Ohio working with the theater fellows from BGSU at the Lake Huron Playhouse, putting on five shows in a grueling six weeks. We used to have a joke, a very piggish and sexist joke, that last summer while I was working (you know, "working") I would say she was sitting at home twiddling her thumbs until I called. Shoes on the other foot this time, and I gotta tell you guys, it sucks. A lot.
This is where someone will chime in, "yeah, but she's around all school year, why complain?" And to them I say, get off my blog and stop being my friend.
Long story short, I miss Krista a great deal. Not in like, a suffocating, overly needy way; more like, a nice, I'm really proud of you and excited that you're getting one foot in the door to a successful acting career, BUT, I miss you anyway.
Luckily, the feeling's mutual.
Long story short, I went to see Krista this weekend!!!
Luckily, she's not the only Otterbein-er that works at the Playhouse. Jake Robinson, Adam Shalter and Julie Koenig also find themseleves two hours away from campus. Even more lucky, Julie's totally awesome boyfriend, Kyle Harper, works at Otterbein for the summer. Are you feeling the equation work out here folks?
So Kyle and I road trip up to Huron listening to Weird Al and talking about movies. Finally, we are arrived outside the Playhouse, Krista is waiting for me. It's like a movie, so I'll spare you the details of the most fantastic hug ever.
From there Krista showed me around the very groovy historic McCormic Elementary School, where the theater is held. I was introduced to many, many people, cast crew, the works. Then we sat in the box office and helped sell tickets until it was time for me to take my seat (c-1) and wait for the show.
The group put on "The Melody Lingers On," which was a musical review of Irving Berlin's tunes. I had never realized just how impressive his resume was, so it was a pleasure and a surprise to be hearing songs from Annie Get Your Gun, or "Stepping out With my Baby," and of course, the timely preformance of "God Bless America." The show was awesome, I had a really good time, and get to claim a staticstic I never thought I would: to be surrounded by more people on oxygen, then people not on oxygen.
Afterwords, the cast and crew had to do strike on the set, so I was treated to a second show: "Strike: The Musical." Then, the four of us piled into Kyle's car and drove to the very prestegious, very elite, Huron / Milan Motel 6. I said goodnight to new friends and Krista, and checked out my lodgings: rough. Not really, a nice big queen size bed, a TV that was broadcasting "A New Hope" on Spike (no complaints) and an air conditioner; all the essentials. I climbed into bed and fell asleep, looking forward to the coming morning.
So, after a nice morning sleeping in, I meet up with Krista again and we shoot over to the lakeside for a picnik with her friends. Three words: take notes Otterbein. I hadn't had burgers that good in a long time, so I had to eat a lot. I also got to see Jake, another Otterbeiner at the playhouse being his usual goofy self. We also shared good stories and watermellon so juicy, water was not necessary despite temeptures reaching the 90s.
Post picnik, we ran a few errands: laundry mostly, checked into getting Krista a new phone, looked at some shoes at the Sandusky Mall (good thing the kids have Cedar Point to go to...) and then it was back to the Playhouse before I knew it.
All day Krista had been appologetic that we didn't get to do anything, just her chores. I couldn't reassure her enough that it was fine. And it was. I've grown to love and even be excited by the monotonous, the mundane, when these tasks are shared with her. I think, how similar is a laundramat in Huron to where perhaps in the East Village we will do laundry until I make tenure and we can get a house outside of the city? Wishful thinking, but nice.
And it was somewhere after losing to several games of Spit and half the ride home, that I realized how much I was missing Krista already, and how I could only look forward to a not too far from now time, where we can share each other's company passing time washing dishes, cleaning clothes or moving furnature.
It was good to see her, and even though my iPod played a cruel trick on me walking back from Kyle's house to my apartment (First Day of My Life) I have nothing but happy and warm, lovely memories from last weekend.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Random Music Playlist #5
"Holiday" Vampire Weekend
"First Day of My Life" Bright Eyes
"Australia" The Shins
and plenty of other really sad, post visit to Krista music.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Spoiled Rotten B****es
Apparently, I have a new addiction. MTV programming has never been anything other then campy and horrid, but, I believe that one decade deep into the 21st century, things are worse then ever. Somewhere in the 90s, America decided that it wanted a new, bold and fascinating new form of entertainment: reality tv. Unsure how to react, most of us fell into the hype, attached to one of the many subgenres: dating shows, Survivor-contest games, Big Brother house shows; and the all were terrible, but for some reason, we couldn't stop watching some slicked hair dip***t in the Real World struggling to understand why after fifteen shots of Patron, he wasn't feeling his chipper-est.
So, why, after such blatant dislike, would I endure what ten years of trial and error has done to hybrid some of the worst half hours on syndicated television? Two reasons. The first, I was dog sitting on Wedensday for my friend Alice Mack, and didn't want to read because I was busy playing with the very radical and excellent Mr Scrappy (see figure 1), and didn't want to crack into a movie, because, again, see figure 1.
So, I had no chocie other then to tune into MTV for my favorite guilty pleasure game show: "Silent Library."
So, why, after such blatant dislike, would I endure what ten years of trial and error has done to hybrid some of the worst half hours on syndicated television? Two reasons. The first, I was dog sitting on Wedensday for my friend Alice Mack, and didn't want to read because I was busy playing with the very radical and excellent Mr Scrappy (see figure 1), and didn't want to crack into a movie, because, again, see figure 1.
So, I had no chocie other then to tune into MTV for my favorite guilty pleasure game show: "Silent Library."
"Silent Library"
This is Silent Library. Silent Library is a Westernized version of an apparent Asian classic, the premise is simple: you and your chums must pull of goofy and mostly gross stunts (see video) without making too much noise to win cash. If you and your chums can't keep your pie holes shut, a mean looking Asian guy and librarian shouts mean things at you. Simple and sweet. The problem: the morons on the show always have the most eclectic collection of jack ass and idiot friends that no matter how the competetor taking on any number of absurd tasks on the show, who cannot help but laugh as their friends take on the challenges. Point: nobody ever wins, and it's because of the peanut gallery. With that being said, it's fun to watch stupid people doing stupid things. Silent Library gets a pass in my book.
I honestly don't remember what was on next, because I was too busy laughing at Silent Library to remember the rest. I think I took Scraps for a walk around campus and stopped compulsively watching MTV. So that was the first encounter: a program so bad it's good for a laugh or two. I start to wonder if I am being too harsh on MTV, and then my second encounter comes.
I am not sleeping, because I do not have to work until 4 pm. This is what I go into last night saying. I didn't do too much yesterday either, so I'm in that in-between tired and wide awake kind of mindset. I occupy my time going for a bike ride, returning some movies to the library, moving a chair with a shopping cart, and dropping in to see Neil. Most of the errands are good for a few songs on the iPod each, but the stop back to Garst, well, that carries me well into the 3:30 am range.
What was it that was keeping the attention of the two college students? The worst, most horrible, no hyperbole here folks, the most disgusting offensive show I have ever had the misfortune of not being blind during television ever. MTV's Super Sweet Sixteen: a show case of the brattiest, most offensive, spoiled young ladies and boys in the world; parading their parents' bank accounts like its' their toy poodles.
Words cannot describe, but I yelled lots of mean things at these children.
This lovely BBC video does all the work for me.
This is Silent Library. Silent Library is a Westernized version of an apparent Asian classic, the premise is simple: you and your chums must pull of goofy and mostly gross stunts (see video) without making too much noise to win cash. If you and your chums can't keep your pie holes shut, a mean looking Asian guy and librarian shouts mean things at you. Simple and sweet. The problem: the morons on the show always have the most eclectic collection of jack ass and idiot friends that no matter how the competetor taking on any number of absurd tasks on the show, who cannot help but laugh as their friends take on the challenges. Point: nobody ever wins, and it's because of the peanut gallery. With that being said, it's fun to watch stupid people doing stupid things. Silent Library gets a pass in my book.
I honestly don't remember what was on next, because I was too busy laughing at Silent Library to remember the rest. I think I took Scraps for a walk around campus and stopped compulsively watching MTV. So that was the first encounter: a program so bad it's good for a laugh or two. I start to wonder if I am being too harsh on MTV, and then my second encounter comes.
I am not sleeping, because I do not have to work until 4 pm. This is what I go into last night saying. I didn't do too much yesterday either, so I'm in that in-between tired and wide awake kind of mindset. I occupy my time going for a bike ride, returning some movies to the library, moving a chair with a shopping cart, and dropping in to see Neil. Most of the errands are good for a few songs on the iPod each, but the stop back to Garst, well, that carries me well into the 3:30 am range.
What was it that was keeping the attention of the two college students? The worst, most horrible, no hyperbole here folks, the most disgusting offensive show I have ever had the misfortune of not being blind during television ever. MTV's Super Sweet Sixteen: a show case of the brattiest, most offensive, spoiled young ladies and boys in the world; parading their parents' bank accounts like its' their toy poodles.
Words cannot describe, but I yelled lots of mean things at these children.
This lovely BBC video does all the work for me.
Moral of the story: friends, occupy your time better then I have recently, or you'll two be sucked into watching this horrible television. I'm going to purge myself, and watch nothing but Casablanca and Undeclared until I have detoxed all MTV programming out of my eyes and mind. Enjoy your afternoons, I'll be regretting the last week's tv viewing choices all night.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
