Good Movie Weekend

This past weekend thought it would be nice to take my wife to a dinner and a movie. Go me, I know. Unfortunately, living in semi-suburbia Riverdale, our options are limited for an all out night on the town. Long gone are evenings at Nobu followed by The Screening Room cocktails and film in TriBeCa...who am I kidding, it was more like Uncle Mo's and The Pavillion in Park Slope. Well, now it's more like The Cheesecake Factory and The AMC at The Palisades Mall. I know, you can smell the culture pesticide parking lot scent still on me from Saturday.

Anyways, beyond picking up a Yankee scented candle for my office (insert ambiguously gay joke here), we hit the latest Zach Braff film "The Last Kiss." In a building full of mega store chains totally devoid of authenticity, as the lights in theater dimmed, the screen delivered a refreshing jolt of originality.

I miss independent films. I can't remember the last time I saw a movie that I cared to remember. "The Last Kiss" is a story about facing life at a crossroads, making choices, being imperfect, and accepting that fact and moving forward. I thought the actors and script did a great job portraying their various mental states of confusion and struggle to find themselves. The fact that film's main characters were roughly the same age as me made the characters even more engaging and relative, even though unlike them, I was not a womanizing bachelor, a depressed recently dumped sad sack, a new father/verbally abused husband, or a soon-to-be father to a pregnant girlfriend.

I don't watch Scrubs on NBC, but I am becoming a Zach Braff fan (enter second ambiguously gay joke here). To boot, the soundtrack, like Garden State, is a winner.

And in case you were wondering, the candle scent was "Autumn Leaves." See you next year, summer.

"What's In The Box????" Comics!

I just learned that one of my favorite movies will come to print. Se7en, the serial killa thrilla from the late '90s starring Brad Pitt, Morgan Freeman, and Kevin Spacey, will be a seven part mini-series graphic novel coming to comic book stores as soon as this week. AICN has the latest scoop with a writer of the first book here.

I used to read comic books during my tween years, though to be quite honest, I mostly just looked at the pictures. Yes, I hated reading so much so that I could not even stand the words in comic books. I actually once wrote a book report in 3rd grade on a Golden Book. I was a late bloomer, what can I say. Anyways, my brother Rog was more of the comic book collector and connoisseur, taking me to comic book conventions at Penn Plaza across the street from The Garden every year. For those that have never been to a comic book convention, or what many in the comic world referred to as "Creation Conventions," you don't know what you're missing! Entering these events is really like stepping into another world, and just for the entertainment value of seeing a horde of pale skin teens AND adults amongst a sea of black t-shirts and unkept hair was loads of fun. Though comic books were the main currency- buying, trading, and oogling (for those that wanted to get a close up look at what a Spider-Man #1 looked liked and cost in mint condition), the charm was all the other fantasy and sci-fi crap that surrounded the books enclosed in plastic and backed with white stiffboard. Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, Land of the Lost, Star Wars, Godzilla, you name it, if it's got lasers, aliens, or a hint of kitschie/kookie Japanese, you'll find it here.

I eventually grew out of it, finding other things to piss away my allowance. However, the existence of Forbidden Planet in New York City has kept the flames of my sci-fanatic youth alive though the years. A geek's paradise smack dab in Union Square, the shop's got practically everything a comic/sci-fi fan could ever want, other than a girlfriend- graphic novels, posters, t-shirts, old and new comics, and figurines (they're NOT dolls!).

Up until now, the only comic book item of recent interest to me has been a small graphic novel series called The Walking Dead- a post-apocalyptic thriller about a group of strangers who are mentally and physically tested to their human limits as they try to survive a worldwide zombie epidemic. Perhaps Se7en will be a bit more light hearted...

Fantasy Football Week 1 : 0 and 2. Verdict: My Team Sucks Balls

I just don't have the patience for fantasy football. After choosing what I thought was a decent collection players for my fantasy team this year, I still am coming out shit short, going 0 and 2 after the first week (our league has each team play two games vs. two different teams). This is the second year I'm participating in this annual donation to my college friends league, and the second time I'm teaming up with a buddy to co-own a team, primarily to minimize my investment, which already seems to be like a good idea again this year.

Granted, I decided on Carolina WR Steve Smith, who has had issues with his hammy during the pre-season, and ended up with another injury on his other hamstring just last week, but even with that bad luck, I think my players have a sixth sense to underperform when I pick them. Even when they do well, I think they still suck. Take last year's Tom Brady. One of the top QBs in the league, and a top pick on my team, Yellow Fever. Ask me what I think about him, and I won't have anything to do with that prick. Why? I can't really say, other than even when he did perform well, my team still lost, so, one can say he's on my shit list by association. Does this make sense, not at all, but it doesn't really matter. Fantasy does makes watching football enjoyable, and even if I end up losing every game, verbally abusing friends for no reason in the message boards is worth the price of admission alone. Hopefully our team this year, Asian Dawn, can rise above the ashes and not suck so bad for week two.

5 Years... But Who's Counting

As everyone in America knows, yesterday was the 5th anniversary of 9/11. If you're not into anniversaries, probably just another day. But for most of us, there was at least one moment yesterday when we thought about where we were when we heard that the first plane hit.

I think Western cultures' fascination with anniversaries, particularly that end in five and zero, is an odd thing. I mean, it's based on a time structure that we created back in the day when people needed to know when it was hot and cold outside each year so they didn't starve and freeze to death. It now provides us Westerners with a benchmark by which we can gauge how far along we've come, where we think we should be, and how long we think we have left, in our short existence on this planet. I say Westerners because, I'm sure you know, not everyone follows a 365 day a year cyclical calendar. For example many Eastern cultures follow the lunar calendar, where one's birth date changes every year. In some societies some folks don't even celebrate birthdays.

But in America, we fixate on this shit. Anniversaries gives us a reason to do stuff. Watch a ball drop, buy a cake, go on a cruise. It also makes us ponder and reflect, which isn't a bad thing, considering our attention spans are getting shorter and shorter and our memories weaker and weaker these days. Reflection is important, and sometimes necessary, to put things in perspective, to think clearly, to prioritize what's truly important in our lives, to reconsider how we treat other people.

We get a bit nervous this time of year, every year since that day, partially because we think terrorists are following the same calendar we are. It's part of the tunnel-vision culture we have created for ourselves, enhanced by the inescapable hyperbolic news coverage. My favorite TV graphic I saw last night was from Anderson Cooper's CNN special title card: Ground Zero...of TERROR! The name reminded of the Simpsons "Tree House of Horrors" Halloween special. I almost expected scary organ music playing in the background. Ridiculous is now the norm it seems, which is so very sad. Thank goodness for Charlie Rose and The Daily Show.

Crikey! I Should Have Stuck to Reptiles!

It's a sad day for Australia, Animal Planet, and alligator lovers around the world. Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter died today from an apparent blow to the chest by a stingray's barb while filming a documentary, ironically, about dangerous marine life, in Queensland.

A damn shame, I tell ya. This guy had a real passion for life and his family, which is uncommon these days. My wife and I actually dressed up as him and his wife one year for Halloween, though the reason we did was more out of convenience than our enjoyment of his show- brown tee shirt, shorts, and a few rubber snakes from Toys 'R Us, and voila! Some animal experts like Jack Hannah say he kinda deserved it and that it was his own fault. Playing with such dangerous animals, it was inevitable that this would someday catch up and bite him in the ass, or in this case, inject a venomous spike through his heart. Perhaps this is true, but quite honestly Jack, I don't think he is looking for excuses or a defense for his actions right about now- a funeral home is more on target.

Animal Planet has already begun running his shows, in part I presume as a tribute to his work in educating and entertaining millions of people curious to know who the hell in their right mind would willingly jump into a pond with twenty foot eating machines. CNN is re-airing his interview tonight from the time where he was accused of child endangerment from holding his infant while feeding an alligator- dane-jah, dane-jah! Gotta love cable TV's reactionary schedule. I recall a few months ago when the whole Mel Gibson alcoholic anti-Semitic rage with the LA police erupted, there were at least three cable networks airing either Lethal Weapon, Payback, or Braveheart. I'm hoping something happens to Mr. T soon so I can watch Rocky III and A-Team episodes again.

Farewell Steve Irwin- you will be missed. I'll see you in reruns.