Obama kills fly, samurai remix version.
My career as a gamer stopped in high school with the Super Nintendo, so I’m a bit behind the curve on this, but this week I noticed that both PlayStation and XBox are taking different tacks to play catch-up in the market blown open by Wii.
Maybe it’s just me, but recently I’m noticing way too many references to “women’s biology” in the media. Here, here and here. It’s not that I’m squeamish or anything – it all just seems slightly surreal in that not-good way.
Finally, it seems that Web 3.0 is already on its way. For the love of god, I hadn’t even gotten my head around Web 2.0 yet. Incidentally, I love the headline of the article: “Vague but Exciting”. I think that says it all.
The future of music and video is this.
Oldie but a goodie: my very favorite powerpoint presentation of alltime.
I am a fan of these folks who are devoted to furthering culture on the island: RED Magazine, honozooloo, & BAMP.
This is a film sure to draw a reaction from the audience. Its intent is to provoke, though one is not always sure what it is trying to say. This was my first encounter with Werner Herzog’s unique “oeuvre”, and I’m not entirely sure where to begin with commentary. On some levels, it has more in common with Spinal Tap than the so-called documentary genre to which it allegedly belongs. Herzog is a master at orchestrating absurdity and awkwardness. The scene in which one of the girlfriends of Treadwell (the doomed subject of the film) receives his still-running watch retrieved from his severed hand stands out as a shining example. The anti-poignancy and sheer woodenness of the moment is both riveting and hilarious.
But I believe there is much more depth to the movie that keeps it from descending to the level of a simple character assassination/exploitation, though clearly Herzog molds the story to match his intent. Treadwell’s story to me is more than a commentary on a sad freak at the fringes of society (though it is that, too), it is a peek at the futility of the human endeavor, a glimpse at the madness of human dreams, and a critique of our celebrity- and media-obsessed culture. I kept thinking, were Treadwell’s motives really so different from the exhibitionists who go on reality tv shows – or write blogs, for that matter?
A really fascinating portrait that will stay on your mind for some time after viewing.
I like Bing. I just wish that the best new Google competitor didn’t have to be a Microsoft product.
Ingenious agency “website”.
So, the new GM is going to look just like the old GM? I happened to catch Jon Stewart’s deconstruction of this sad commercial. Brilliant (until it goes into the bit about the previous GM models).
I recently spent just over a week in Tokyo, my first time there in over a year. The first thing I noticed was how gray and colorless it was. Everything. Buildings, people, sky. And crowded. I have a keen eye for detail, as you can tell. But yes, unbearably, undeniably, inhumanely crowded. Organized chaos. It’s so easy just to sit back on the train and marvel at the landscape of the city. A to-scale Legoland. Impossible to relax, in spite of the world-class hospitality, food and bathing. After a few days, my wife and I are both complaining of tired, sore muscles. From what? Maybe too much commuting on public transportation. Too many cramped spaces. Freedom to engage in bizarre behaviors, like trying to fly a kite in the park on a day with no wind, and having the greatest time doing it. That’s the Japanese sense of – what? Absurdity? Whimsicality? Innocence? It is not something we have a precise word for. Graceful failure is getting closer to it. Returning to these concepts and sensations brought a certain amount of pleasure. Sitting in an onsen in Hakone and observing the irregularities of the pool. The way the gentle undulations of the steaming water interact with the asymmetrical patterns of the stone floor, warping and refracting the lines in an steady and unpredictable rhythm. I feel in this moment like I’ve had some kind of deeper insight into the Japanese mind, though my description of it fails to convey the depth. It is as though the way of thinking is expressed through this pool, this moment of stillness and movement. No straight lines. No linear thoughts. Natural. Cyclic. Twisted. I make sure to exit the bath before I steam my brain completely. Tokyo is a kind of giant machine that picks you up and carries you along. Volition optional. Numerous discussions of life-in-Japan versus life-not-in-Japan with friends. Cultural differences. Too easy. The reasons I left are validated, fully. But the appeal remains as well. The everyday encounters with entertaining oddity. Obsession, or fetishization of detail is another concept that strikes me again. But the details are never anchored to what we would consider the “proper” context. At times, this bothers me. At other times, it amuses, or inspires. I watch a morning news program where people spend half an hour discussing in meticulous detail whether or not you should take an umbrella with you when there is a 30% chance of rain (banal, but at least less sordid than what shows on the news in America). I wonder if my view of these sudden, jarring anomalies has anything in common with how a Japanese person would view them. Most often, not. I remember when I still lived in Tokyo I once met a visiting journalist who used to live there. Now he was based out of New York, but made occasional visits. He told me that being in Tokyo is much better when you visit from abroad than when you live there. I completely agree. It’s good to know the ins and outs of the city, but even better knowing you can leave.
