Archive for April, 2004

Magazine Tearing Boy on the Plane

Monday, April 19th, 2004

Hi, I am the magazine tearing boy on the plane.

See, I was behind on a couple of months worth of magazine reading so I had about 10 pounds (literally) of magazines in my carry-on baggage. Not being a fan of carrying around baggage longer than necessary I tear out the pages and keep the blade or two I find interesting and then dump the mag in the recycling bin.

Here are two interesting snippets I found:

Mother Jones Mag: If you could meet President Bush, what would you tell him? Russel Simmons: Fear is not the basis of governing this country.


From Mother Jones: May/June 2003

The last world leader who attempted to “rid the world of evil” - Pope Urban II in 1095- never figured out a good exit strategy either

No more, please

Sunday, April 18th, 2004

I would really really really like it if I didn’t have to hear some ad sample Pharrell’s “She’s Sexy!” from the N.E.R.D. song “She Wants to Move” ever again.

I saw Kill Bill 2 last night

Saturday, April 17th, 2004

Foremost, let me say that I really enjoyed the first installment of this, the fourth film by Quentin Tarantino.

For those of you not in the know, this movie is a continuation of, not a sequel to the first volume delivered last year: Kill Bill v.1.

Now the first film, and you can find many sites which will explain this in further detail, was a hyper-gory, hyper-stylized, samurai sword bloodfest. Fewer heads rolled in the Reign of Terror. I walked in expecting to see sword-point impalings, decapitation, defenestration, and other sorts of mayhem.

The movie starts off quite differently though. The opening scene is the star, Uma Thurman, driving a convertible down the road with a film screen displaying ‘road footage’ behind her.

{ We, knowing the director’s love of peeling back magic of his craft might have expected to see a pan out to show the crew members rocking chassis to give the car that not-quite-real car driving down the road feel. }

Uma’s character, the Bride, in lustrous, silv’ry black and white gives a brief recap of her actions (taking out two assassins who betrayed her) and reminds us that she has two more assassins to go before taking out her nemesis: Bill.

This filming tells us, as do the intro credits, that this won’t be chop-socky fare, no, this installment is film noir and it revels in those elements (you’ll recall that KBv1 opened with a gong clang and fonts appropriate to grindhouse kung-fu tales). Instead of fists of fury, we are on a trip with a woman jilted. Instead of knife fights, we’re going to see emotional knives turned deeper. We could almost expect the spirit of Mickey Spillane to reappear at several times in the film.

The exposition following the driving scene seems slow and, to be honest, was a bit boring - it describes leading up to the shootout at the El Paso Wedding Chapel that put our heroine into a coma.

I think that had the film been presented as QT cut it (i.e. one big-ass film) this meditative exposition would have given the audience more time to unwind after the climactic samurai’s duel that finished the first film.

Nonetheless, we soon find ourselves tracking the Bride’s next target, Budd, played by the eternally squinty (and fiercely so) Michael Madsen. Budd takes that classic attitude of “A samurai sword ain’t dick against a double barreled shotgun” (freqeuently espoused by a pre-pubescent-NRA sympathizer amongst my friends as we watched Channel 39’s KUNG-FU theatre on Saturday mornings) and thus presents an interesting change of nemesis. Where as the first two slain assassins were kung-fu-istas Budd is packing the heavy firearms. Besides, we’re a bit saturated (bored) with respect to swordfighting after Uma slashed her way through Yuen Wo-Ping’s team at the end of the first movie.

Budd’s character comes halfway through the film and lives in a middle-of-nowhere desert town in California. It is appropriate that the mental mettle of the Bride is put to a test as the first film displayed the extrodinary calibre of her metal.

Not to go too Joseph Campbell here, but the Bride retreats into Campbell’s “Cave”, she’s retreating into the unconscious and, after all the killing, is asked to decide if she will go on with her quest, how will this change her, and what is she willing to sacrifice for vengeance. Tarantino, such a corporeally-bound, bloody, fleshy director invites us into a spiritual realm. Are we surprised that the language Tarantino describes this place with is the language of Kung-Fu Special double-feature? Not at all: we see the Bride learn the martial arts in the middle of China from an ancient, beard-stroking, acid-tongued, badass upon a misty, hidden mountain.

Her resolve tested, the Bride rises up from her earthly baptism and re-enters the physical. She proceeds to clear the way to Bill (played superbly by David Carradine).

Carradine is Mexicali cool and chic in his leather jacket, jeans, and bare feet. His gravelly voice seduces and charms (The Snake Charmer is his alias). His manner, focus, and quiet intensity makes it clear why so many deadly viper assassins have let their guard down to him. His hypnotic tone also reminds us that a snake charmer’s relationship with his pet requires that he be able and willing to kill it at a moment’s notice. The mutual respect of each others lethal nature suffuses the dialog between Carradine and Thurman.

The perfect scene to display this is Bill playing a Chinese flute whilst recounting a tale about the day a master was not paid due respect by a monk. Between the crackling fire, Bill’s flute, Carradine’s voice, and Thurman’s smile, we too are beguiled and amazed. So much that we, like a viper to the charmer, might even forget that we too musn’t forget that we must be willing to kill the charmer.

But I said this film was more noir genre, and that is true. The romantic history between Bill and Bride animates their dialog and define the performance. We cannot forget that the film for all its wire-team kung-fu is a noir film: Woman got done wrong (bad) by her man. Seeing the Bride work her way to her goals is satisfying, entertaining and fun.

Fortunately, QT underplayed his QT-ness in a display of maturity. The pop culture synthesis (yadda * 3) were there, but not in the contrived “hey aren’t I clever” mode - no they were more earnest, more honest, and more effective. There is a great existential exposition about Superman versus the rest of all the comic book heroes. I won’t give away the surprise, but it’s no less Sartre than comics.

Quick statement: Thurman has one of the best waist-hip ratios in the world.

But the violence is so much less in this film that those planning on seeing the blood bellows pump will be disappointed. I can’t help but feeling that this is deliberate, in the context of the completed 4-hour opus we don’t have a gore-fest, we have more physically violent enemies (Lucy Liu’s army) and then we have colder, more psychological killers (the second film). This dichotomy opens up questions about who the greater warrior is (s)he who fells many, or (s)he who fells well.

In any case, I think the two, assembled as one, make for a fine psychological exploration of the warrior spirit (? la Kurosawa) minus the Shakespearean classicism plus pop art. I really look forward to the dual DVD release pair.


After seeing the film, P-Dizzle and I hunted for my car (I arrived in great haste and forgot the lot sign) and then visited his new place up in Menlo Park. It’s a nice place and his skill at industrial art projects is filling blank spots steadily.

I got home and spent this morning lying in bed finishing off the third (and final) installation in the His Dark Materials series: The Amber Spyglass. I’ll probably write more about it later.

Who is Steven Harms?

Thursday, April 15th, 2004

I was talking to passive psychotherapist Michael Sobczak today and we were discussing what we are doing with our mid-twenties-lives and I said:

steven harms is a guy who likes books, discussions fueled by wine and booze, who likes pretty girls and screwing around with computers and writing code.

Mike said this was “perfect”.

to which I would now add:

…who has grown overaccustomed to luxury and thus cares for German sports cars, expensive gizmos, and nice tailored clothing.

which should be augmented with

…who really enjoys teaching

The Myers-Briggs tests say that my best given profession is a preacher.

Imagine that.

Vivement des vacances

Wednesday, April 14th, 2004

You really do come back with creativity from vacation. I should say that the only risk to the employer would be allowing you to take too long of a vacation and then you would realize how much your cubicle-driven McJob sucks and that you should improve widgets by doing X and then off you go to start a new company or work at a different place that doesn’t have the institutional barriers to implementing your Great New Idea.

Someone should do a study about that, the vacation as gateway to attrition.

Some friends and I once agreed that: Work sucks, but the drama is worth staying for.

I’m up at 6 a.m. and feeling sorta awake. I feel that my living on the travel run has caught up with me, my lymph nodes are the size of walnuts and I keep sneezing thus, I cannot sleep, thus I type.

I hope that work’s requirments will allow me to check out some tunes on the shared Mac users’ iTunes shares, slurp some green tea, and parse my bazillion emails.

I have to be honest, I’m dreading that. I eradicated my mail quota before I left (it’s good to be king) so there’s no telling how bloated my inbox is with people sending me mails that want to ‘get buy-in’ or ‘leverage synergies’ or ‘what the hell happened to X’.

Then again, you really can’t dread things too much or else you will not be worrying about Who Moved your Cheese, no, instead you will come up with some sort perverted view (Spencer Johnson, send me a mail if you want these here idears).

The Paranoid

  • Someone is out to move my cheese again!
  • The Hostile

  • Motherfucker better not move the cheese again!
  • The Apathetic

  • Fuckit, I don’t care if you move my cheese
  • Nigel from “The Young Ones”

  • I don’t want want you to move my legumes
  • Samuel L. Jackson, [this one’s for you Dave Chappelle] moved my cheese

  • Move my cheese again, motherfucker I dare you I double-dare you
  • Okay enough whimsy ( although more comments on that thought would be appreciated, I have to admit that last one got my laughing as I typed it ).

    As the Baghavad Gita reminds us, we cannot change the conditions of the world of illusion that we find ourselves in, we must simply accept what the law of karma has dished out.

    I tell you my friends, accepting that you are incapable of changing a good many things is certainly an important key to happiness. I had a tight connection on the JFK->SFO changeover on the flight.

    I had two options, I could sit there on the plane and plan how to get out of the plane, how I had to haul through the baggage, how there would be a good long line of other wearied, sweaty travellers. I could have dwelt on that idea for the whole 7 hours of that flight.

    Instead I put it aside and during the taxi, I just sat there and focused on my breathing. I needed my mind to be alert, my muscles ready, but dreading the fact that it was a tight change wasn’t going to get my anywhere. Instead it was going to needlessly stress me out for the last half hour of the flight.

    You can let wrong thinking really upset your life if you’re not careful.

    On the plane this lady bumped a guy and he sloshed wine over himself.

    Now, to be fair, I think she was really way too relaxed about the fact that she did so, not offering to help, not really even showing contrition (although, did she speak no English? Was she just rude? Don’t know).

    But this guy he got all worked up about it and stayed mad. He was really angry.

    He was slinging his hand about and muttering. He was doing what i call the normative confirmation eye-search [commonly seen from children]: a wronged person looks around to other people in the immediate area for valuation of “yeah you got screwed” or “get over it”. I pretended to be reading, I didn’t want to help him dig the ditch he wanted to keep digging himself into.

    Afterwards he stayed mad. Now international air travel brings out all sorts of levels of irritation and weariness - but I could feel his hostility making him a slave. With each mutter, gasp, “Geaagghh” his misery grew bigger.

    The man wanted to be miserable. He wanted to be a slave.

    How sad. Surely this is the compassion which compel the Boddhisattva to stay in the world.

    So that large aside aside, what does that tell me about the mountain of e-mail waiting? I can either put myself into a slave relationship to it or I can think about mastering it. It is my moira to face this heap o’ mail.

    So thinking about mastering it, I was thinking about how to smarten up my mail reader mutt.

    I should write a patch so that one can implement

    • virtual folders based on RegEx search
    • better IMAP caching

    Well, to make the former work you would certainly need the latter (for those of us using client / server protocol versus POP slurping of mail {hello the server is the network? {{ OK, just kidding, don’t want Sun Mikey fans [ do you still exist? ] getting all up in mah grill }} ).

    I hacked up some patches for IMAP access for Mutt a while ago, I’ve not handled some irritating bugs in the hack — I really would like to learn how to patch up Mutt (and in general, other open source apps..). Regrettably my C skills aren’t that stellar — that’s on the list of things to improve in.

    Slouched back to SJ…

    Tuesday, April 13th, 2004

    I’m back in Mountain View, on my futon, behind the helm of the PowerBook of Doom.

    I may be without keys with ~ and ümlaüts over the characters, but I’m glad to feel the caress of Al-yoo-mini-um against my fingertips.

    I’m going to make myself stay awake until my usual bedtime of 2300 (dig that Euro stylee).

    Regrettably, I know what Cayce Pollard from Gibson’s Pattern Recognition is feeling:

    She knows, now, absolutely, hearing the white noise that is London, that Damien’s theory of jet lag is correct: that her mortal soul is leagues behind her, being reeled in on some ghostly umbilical down the vanished wake of the plane that brought her here, hundreds of thousands of feet above the Atlantic. Souls can’t move that quickly, and are left behind, and must be awaited, upon arrival, like lost luggage.

    I feel my soul winding its way through the Atlantic at the moment (although it keeps telling me that it wants to roam about the cobblestone sidewalks of Barcelona on a beach cruiser again…).

    There is only one cure to this situation: blogging and a Carl’s Junior Western Burger combo.

    Yum.

    On the way back I read the second book in the His Dark Materials series, The Subtle Knife. It was pretty strange, I boarded the plane, started on page one, read, read, Coke, read read, food, done.

    This second book is excellent — better than the first book Northern Lights (aka The Golden Compass).

    I read some more of my Eco book Travels in Hyperreality — I have my usual Eco-stylistics irritation but overall it’s going OK.

    I wrote all sorts of things (you know, pen, paper, ink) I thought about in Europe….you’ll be seeing them show up here.

    And here’s a wish of thanks to the special girl I saw glide out of the Alphonse XIII stop of Madrid this morning - a good travelling partner and the best little sister in the whole world!

    My eyes are growing heavy, and I put a fresh set of sheets on the bed before I left — I can’t wait to get back into my bed and wait for my soul to meander westward.

    Last night in Catalunya

    Sunday, April 11th, 2004

    Tonight is the last night in Catalunya. Again E. and I type away at our stations

    We slept in after our trip to Figueres yesterday. We headed up to the Montju?c (/big hill that overlook everything) and took in the vista. We are going to head homeward shortly - we are full from all you can eat fresh choice like cuisine.

    I have been out of the country for the two landmark Christian holidays.

    I am going to try to get a small snack before we head home. Tomorrow we will try to see the picasso museum in the gothic quarter and get a market-fresh meal before sou 5pm flight back to madrid. I leave Tuesday on a 1 pm-ish flight.

    Spain is keen. More when I get back to the states.

    ? Hola !

    Wednesday, April 7th, 2004

    Hey everyone, I am here in an internet cafe in the heart of barcelona. Needless to say an english & dvorak keyboard is a bit hard to come by. My post will be a bit terse as a result.

    My sister and i had a great time in amsterdam. We got to see my friend nicholas, big al, and Abdul. We went to the v. Gogh museum, got rained on, and got to eat indonesian. Of particular note was the visit to the keukenhof flower show (pics to be posted upon return).

    We spent 2 hectic days in madrid before arriving today in barcelona.

    Barcelona is a good bit cooler than madrid. We took naps upon arrival as we were out late watching flamenco last night. This afternoon we saw gaudis sdgrada familia temple. Our plans just got scrapped to meet her friends - so I think we will head out to get some tapas.

    ?adios!