Filed under: reflection | Tags: cannonball, ham, lifeguard, smalls, squints, the sandlot, wendy peffercorn
this has got to be one of the best scenes in all cinema history.
there’s just so much to love about this scene. adult-Smalls’ familiar voice providing the narrative voiceover. Ham’s hilarious gusto and his cracked “CANNONBALL!” announcement. Wendy Peffercorn. Squints’ look of sheer victory at 4 minutes and 10 seconds. universal themes of desperation, loyalty, and maturation. Smalls exclaiming “oh, man, he’s in deep shit!”
“but everytime we walked by after that, the lifeguard looked down from her tower – right over at Squints – and smiled.”
Filed under: lists | Tags: celebrity, famous, talent, waste of my time, waste of your time
I can write that I have absolutely no desire to be famous, but that would make me a liar. deep, deep down, a part of me hopes for celebrity. at this point in my life, I possess no discernable talent. I’ve yet to accomplish anything of particular significance; to date, my most noteworthy milestone is setting the record for “most hot sauce packets used on a single taco bell grilled stuffed burrito,” though the guinness representatives have yet to confirm. I’m not heir-y enough to be famous for being famous, nor am I vapid enough to be a compelling reality show character. and, unfortunately, my ass is big but not worthy of its own fame. well, at least not international fame.
however, in the off-chance that I do become inexplicably famous, I will hold myself to a higher standard. as a(n inexplicable) celebrity, I will pledge to:
- send out goofy, personalized christmas cards. if, at the time of my fame, I’m without wife or children, I will hire actors to pose with me in the picture. even if the fill-ins are of different races, you’ll still say “what a beautiful family. it must be so good to be so famous and yet so normal.” that’s the power of celebrity, friends.
- make an appearance on at least one hour of the home shopping network as a “special guest.” I will e-mail my friends prior to my appearance so that they can call in. we can use that hour to chat on live television about whatever we want.
- appear at a bar or bat mitzvah.
- support a trivial cause and take myself very seriously. I will remain open to suggestions.
- lend my name to one “as seen on TV” product. personally, I’d like to represent those electric muscle stimulators. tone muscle and lose fat while watching TV and turning some dials? sounds like something I’d back.
- befriend both al sharpton and al franken.
- maintain a blog about my newfound (and inexplicable) fame. I’ll do my best to name drop, but also remind all my readers that I’m “still one of you,” mainly by writing about everyday things that annoy me.
- hold a “don’t you know who I am?!” week. for seven days, I will try to get as much free stuff and services I can by going places and asking and/or shouting “don’t you know who I am?!” this could very well turn into a small set of fun youtube video.
wow, this was a waste of time. regardless, my pledge remains.
Filed under: music, reviews | Tags: a song for milly michaelson, music, thrice
every now and again, a song enters through my ears and makes a slow, smoldering course through my body, heart, and mind. I’m beginning to embrace more and more the connection between the metaphysical and the physical, the spiritual and the corporeal, and some songs serve as tangible reminders of such a concept.
Thrice releases a new dual-EP album tomorrow, Tuesday, April 15. one particular song off the “Air” EP has quickly established itself as one of the most brilliant and beautiful songs I’ve ever encountered. “A Song for Milly Michaelson,” despite its repetitive guitar and lack of overtly dynamic instrumentation, is captivating, far more engaging than nearly any song I have heard. both title and lyrics are based on the movie “The Boy Who Could Fly”:
After the suicide of her terminally-ill father, fourteen year old Amelia “Milly” Michaelson loses interest in almost everything around her. But before long, she becomes friends with Eric Gibb, a young autistic neighbor who had lost both of his parents to a plane crash. Together, Eric and Milly find ways to cope with the loss and the pain, as they escape to far away places.
the lyrics take the movie’s premise, make use of every emotional avenue, and dig into any corner where affect may lie. it’s a song that I’m compelled to share for its genius, if not for its breathtaking beauty and structure.
Well you know I hardly speak.
When I do it’s just for you.
I haven’t said a word in weeks
‘Cause they’ve been keeping me from you.
There’s a way where there’s a will.
You know I got no need for stairs.
Step out on the window sill,
Fall with me into the air.
So, here we go.
Hold on tight and don’t let go.
I won’t ever let you fall.
I love the night.
Flying o’er these city lights.
But I love you most of all.
Well there’s something you should know.
Girl you should have died that day.
You fell reaching for the rose
Baby I was there to save you.
just something I couldn’t keep to myself.
Filed under: reflection | Tags: hawaiian shirt, jackassedness, party, thrift store
hawaiian shirts: never liked them, never will. I’ve got really particular aesthetic tastes; most people who know me understand that it’s part of who I am. sometimes I hate being so opinionated about how things look, and sometimes I’m glad that I possess enough sense to avoid wearing Teva sandals anywhere I stand a less-than-90% chance of being mauled by a bear.
this past Saturday, a dear friend hosted a luau-themed birthday party. now, despite my preferences, I’m no spoil sport/negative nancy/antagonistic alliteration, so I decided to purchase a hawaiian shirt, knowing full-well that it would me make me look like a grade-A dingbat, not unlike this guy:
I took a little trip to my neighborhood Baras Foundation thrift store, meandered around for a while, and settled on a hawaiian shirt. it’s greatest merit? it fit me okay.
as I walked around the store, looking at all the fun little things I could buy to decorate my future residence o’hipsterdom, I noticed maybe three other men, including the guy working behind the counter, wearing hawaiian shirts. indeed, these shirts of mid-Pacific America are like harry potter and clogs: I just don’t get it!
anyway, I walked up to the register to pay for the shirt. the guy starts making small talk – something I really don’t mind and, for the most part, enjoy – as he tidied up behind the counter while my credit card processed.
he said “ah, good taste,” referring to that damned floral print he had on himself. I laughed politely and mentioned the insanely hot weather. he agreed.
him: “so, you going to hawaii or something?”
me: “actually, yeah, I am.”
WHAT? I have absolutely no idea why I replied with such a blatant lie. I actually said “actually,” as if to cement my private jackassedness.
conclusion: hawaiian shirts make me lie.
I’ve always appreciated being the recipient of honesty and I’ve (hopefully) gone about most of my life in a way that affords other that respect and, frankly, personal right. so, on monday, I told my boss(es) that I had applied for another job. nothing guaranteed, of course, but I had at least cast my net.
from the outside-in, it seems like a puzzling decision – nothing’s set, so why raise red flags? I’d assumed that my job satisfaction was reason for concern by my superiors. regrettably, my body language more than tipped them off to a growing restlessness and anxiety inside. I honestly don’t believe that it hindered the quality with which I did my job; but, it was a noticeable difference, especially in comparison to the chipper, energetic portly guy I had established myself to be. accordingly, I took this opportunity to explain my long-term aspirations, how my current position didn’t exactly fit that path and how that had affected my satisfaction with the job, and that I’d found a possible position that would truly help me get to where I wanted be. I also gave them a timeline of my tenure here, as I’m 99 percent sure I’ll be out of southern california by the new year.
all in all, I think that it went over as well as it could have. they understand that I’m young and aspiring to other things, and they were supportive of such. additionally, I believe that they had expected me to man up to the standard I’d set for myself here, and up front was in line with that. so, as questionable as my decision was, it’s something I had to do.
so, this is just one of the many, many small steps I’m going to have to take between now and later. and, for the sake of my sanity, that’s the way I have to see everything I do until then.
Filed under: lists, music | Tags: make out, mediocrity, memmory, reign of kindo, senility, simon, the flaming lips
- the reign of kindo is a fantastic band. they’re never going to become chart toppers, but whoever listens to their music will know that it’s something good.
- they cover the flaming lips’ “do you realize??” I really believe that this is the song most-often ruined for women by an ex. can’t really figure out an exact reason for this, except maybe that an inordinate number of couples deemed this “their” song. if you can forget the fact that “do you realize??” was written in reaction to/in support of a band member’s attempt to kick his heroin addiction, this was (and still is) a great make-out jam.
- make-out jams. top 12, in no particular order:
- “this modern love” – bloc party
- “milk and honey” – as tall as lions
- “wasted” – angus and julia stone
- “slow dancing in a burning room” – john mayer
- “ride” – cary brothers
- “never had no one ever” – the smiths
- “how does it feel” – d’angelo
- “transatlanticism”- death cab for cutie
- “the biggest lie” – elliot smith
- “fire and rain” – james taylor
- “scatterbrain” – radiohead
- “samson” – regina spektor
- unfortunately, I think I’m becoming more and more scatterbrained. is it too early to worry about senility or alzheimer’s? probably. but, as a person who has prided himself in exceptional short- and long-term memory, forgetting what I walked into the kitchen for is reason to panic.
- does anyone play Simon anymore? I remember it being fun, but I only now realize that it’s a game of inevitable defeat. sooner or later, you will mess up. computer memory > any kid’s memory. no wonder I’m so content with mediocrity.
