July 30, 2001

21:46 | Looking Past Paradise, Every Other Day

Clean yet unshaven, head out the door. It's around seven on a Monday night. Outside, it feels chillier than in recent memory; Fall is knocking on Summer's door. On the way to the subway, tourists scatter about: "Which way is South Street Seaport?"

It seems I have a face that yells to people, "Ask me for directions!" It's always a tough position. If I don't know what they want, I end up looking like the tourist—And that isn't a viable option.

Up to City Hall—J&R is closed?—Take the N/R to Union Square—Circuit City is open: Buy blank Fuji CDs. Have four library books that were due Friday, but as many can attest, I'm your man if you want to incur overdue fees.

Walking on University Place from 14th to 4th. Call John on the cell: "Quit looking at pr0n, please." Beautiful (and not so beautiful) people pass on the street. This time, I overhear a group of tourists: "Which way is Union Square Park?" That way, I think to myself. That way.

Drop off books, head down 4th street to MacDougal—Ah, Mamoun's Falafel. While I wait for my two falafels to be packaged, a beautiful female, reminiscent of Mel B (of Spice Girls fame), has a Soup Nazi-esque encounter with the administration: "I didn't want any sauce..." "Okay, we make you new one, throw this way." Forcefully said.

Falafels in a brown paper bag, head over to the A/C/E on 4th Street and 6th Ave. 20 minutes later: We're home. A typical Monday night, you could say. But it's basically what many dream of. The freedom is everlasting, skirting streets and avenues like they were your own little playing field. And at night, come home, realize you've gone out into the world and come back in, unharmed, possibly changed (and maybe not), waiting for another night to pass.

18:03 | Dilemma on the Sci-Fi Wasabi Train

So, yes: I have a dilemma. I bought my ticket to go to Cibo Matto at the Bowery Ballroom on Friday, August 3rd. But it seems my friend Mario, who I was supposed to go with, has unexpectedly taken vacation to the Dominican Republic. Now, what's that mean?

I have no one to go with.

The trick, I suppose, is that I'd like to go with someone who digs Cibo Matto on a higher level. But, scouring my contact lists and mind filled with faces and names, I really can't come up with anyone in the NYC at the moment who would fit that description. So, one question remains:

Do You?

Update: Tickets have been sold out (online, at least). Uh oh? Uh oh.

01:37 | Yahoo! Celebs: Are You One of Them?

So, it's a bit late at night. Have a few stories to tell. Was about to write about them, but decided to check mail first. Typical, no?

Ah, sifting through, I find Yahoo! Geocities junkmail. Usual bit. About to throw it away. But to throw it away, I have to click on it, right? Well, that's how Outlook XP is, at least. So, I click on it. What do I see? This, thanks to Kevin.

Very interesting that Min Jung ends up in my mailbox, picture and all, without even her knowing it. Gotta love the internet. Gotta.

July 29, 2001

17:12 | Mmm, Baby, They Will Take Ya...

"Just in Love," 4.5/Surprise, S.E.S.

July 28, 2001

20:59 | Wot? Wot? Wot? Wot? Wot? a-Wot?

Four old school rap tracks that pervade my mind quite often:

Juicy, The Notorious B.I.G.
"Like Salt-N-Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousines..."

Nuthin' but a "G" Thang, Snoop Doggy Dogg & Dr. Dre
"Like this and like that and like this and a..."

Insane in the Brain, Cypress Hill
"Fat boy on a diet, don't try it, I'll whoop your ass..."

All I Need, Method Man
"Nuttin' make a man feel better than a woman..."

04:43 | A Possible Event, Circa 113 AD

The august man broke through: "What have I done?"

Tall, steady, his tunic flowing as he gracefully flew from room to room, his breath heavy and his nose hairs prickling. This was a man who once had everything, but in a few blinding seconds, time had become corrupt, his heart wretched, and his mind a maelstrom of morning fog and evening darkness; black and white was no longer a possibility.

“I am a man of honor. I am a Senator in the city of Rome, in the Empire of the Romans. I am a man of honor, dammit. How is it, then, that I fail my own blood—

“How is it that I fail my own son?”

A boy is a man before his time. A hope is a dream when reality is attached. A miracle is a dream becoming reality without a warning. And his son, he thought, was a miraculous boy: “What a melodic mind. What a sharp intelligence. Would it be too much for me to claim that he could have made Ovid blush? But no, for he is my son, and I know him better than anyone else.”

His heart was not enough, though, as the man sighed. His lips began to tremble as tears came down on his face. Had winds swept up the waters of Ostia? Had his face become a grave for the rivers that had become airborne? Craters on his aged face became visible due to the moisture.

And then he realized: It was he who forced his son to go into battle, to prove himself as a man, to accelerate his movement up the hierarchy. “But father, you are a Senator.” “But son, you are nothing.” Cornering the nearest exit, the father had begun to cry. Nothing? How could he call his son nothing? He couldn’t, yet he did—Yet he did.

It was only seven months later that a messenger arrived from the eastern front: “We are sorry to notify you that your son has been killed in battle against the tyrant Chrosroes.” The Parthians were not a friendly lot. How could he send him there? Yet he did, and this was its result.

His son’s mother—his wife—maddeningly came down the hall. “Marcus? Marcus!” But it was too late. A cry of anger, sadness and anguish—of a child lost, of a chance missed, of regret and love—he had taken a knife, with power unparalleled, to his chest.

“It was I who killed you, and it is I who shall get revenge on your death."

July 27, 2001

10:53 | Some Sort of Modern Mythology

Money is everything. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

Growing up, we all hear that money isn't everything. Sure. We're all allowed to believe that. But the fact is, without money, there is no foundation to one's life in modern society. Unless you're sheltered by parents, a spouse or a Citizen Kane-esque endowment from your dead uncle (may he rest in peace), chances are you yourself pay for housing, food and elements of leisure. Without those three—In fact, without those first two, a person's life is in shambles. Keep in mind, we're not trying to be ascetic. We're just trying to live a simple, normal life. But without money, even these simple necessities are not possible.

I have currently $16 in my bank account. It's fine, though, because in a bit, I'll go pick up my paycheck which should temporarily fill up the bank account. Then, of course, most of that paycheck will go to RCN for the cable modem, Sprint PCS for the cell phone, my stomach for the neglect it has suffered, my ears for a new Creative Labs Nomad IIc and my eyes, for they've been waiting to get a glimpse of Takeshi Kitano's Brother ever since July 20.

And then, we're back to square one, if only because a simple life now contains luxuries by default.

July 26, 2001

06:05 | 21st Century Girl, Walking

This girl, she came, put her books down next to mine.

"Hey, do you have a cigarette?" she asked.

"Sorry, no. I don't smoke." I said.

"So, what're you doing here today?"

"Had some stuff to take care of. Money problems, you know? Figuring out how to pay $40k a year is ten times harder than getting into this school. It's like, 'Yah, we'll let you in, but can you actually pay us?' Insert some evil laugh in there."

She laughs. "I know what you mean. Listen, you wanna go out sometime, you seem nice enough, even if I did just meet you."

"Um, sure. Why not. What's your name?"

She then proceeded to grab her Fendi handbag, open it up ever so slightly, and pull out a business card. "Sara ________, Sophomore." With her home phone number, cell, email and her website. It was a pink card, with a soft texture. It smelled like some Estee Lauder perfume my mother used to buy. "Beautiful," I think it was.

"Here," she said. "Let me right down my ICQ number. Add me to your list. Oh, and here's my AIM name—just in case you're one of those who're anti-ICQ." She smiled. Her ICQ number was in the five digits. That definitely impressed.

I just looked at her. In awe, even.

"Oh, gotta go," she says, checking her watch. "It's almost one and I have an appointment with my friend Paul. He's at Goldman, you know."

I smile. Again. "Sure thing. I'll give you a call sometime."

"Sure. Later!" And she walks away, Fendi handbag in hand.

July 25, 2001

22:47 | Most Common Away Message in the Coming Week

Waited four years to take back the gritty
streets of New York, double berettas in
hand... let the games begin.

now: MAX PAYNE.
new: www.dequinix.com.

July 24, 2001

15:01 | Missing Something Somewhere

I have, over the past year, gained an amazing level of respect for junior colleges. The catalytic moment of such an understanding came last semester while I was paying approximately $3000 for a C programming class at NYU. Why? Because I had to take it. The teacher was great. If I wasn't such a slacker, I probably would have done better. But the fact remains that I ended up learning most of the material in a span of two days before my finals by coding nonchalantly and browsing for references across the web.

It is the stress of losing the $3000 that made me try harder, not because I wanted to. Making sure that the money didn't go to waste shouldn't have been the reason for my trying; it should have been the inherent need to learn. This school makes money off of me for what I can go learn by buying a $50 book. That's $2950 of my parents and my hard-earned money. Junior colleges? I have friends taking courses for $60 at the top junior college in the country right now. That $10 surplus is probably justifiable simply for the fact that you'll be attending classes with good people, many whom will become friends, and arguably have some direction from a professor.

What a great deal. What a great deal.

July 23, 2001

07:00 | Bemers Cut Down on Audi Lead

I've now had the link to The Hire series of films presented at and by BMW Films for a week or two in the MediaPlay section. About three weeks ago, via a link from WongKarWai.net, I landed on their site. It seemed one of my absolute favorite directors in the whole wide world had directed a film there! Looking around, I discovered that some other very well known directors were also present (Fincher, Frankenheimer, Ritchie, Lee). All of these films have two things in common: Clive Owen and Bemers. In fact, in all of them Owen plays "The Driver" with an objective: deliver the kid, outchase, save the world, etc.

Well, on the 19th of this month, they released the final film of this five part series that David Fincher executive produced: Powder Keg. Directed by Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu of Amores Perros fame, it's about Owen taking a photographer across the Costa Rica border before all hell breaks loose. It's actually much more touching than I'm making it sound, especially if you view it with an open heart and a practical mind.

Clive Owen does an amazing performance in this series, reminiscent of Bogart's Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon: Cool, calm, on the ball, yet able to smile when needed. Even though my everpresent love for Audi's manifested after watching Frankenheimer's Ronin, my two favorite films in this series had to be Wong Kar Wai's The Follow, with its heart-sinking ending and tension-filled atmosphere, and Inarritu's Powder Keg—Good until the last drop.

To top it all off, each film is followed by a sub-story, all of which are interconnected, and are directed by Ben Younger. Taking his smart alec Boiler Room tactics to the next level, he creates strange vignettes of a dog chasing its own tail. Again, quite intriguing and entertaining.

If you have broadband, you really don't have an excuse not to see these films. Also, I would suggest that you download the BMW Film Player. It tends to give you a very theatre-like experience, one that you simply can't get while attempting to stream the films from the browser.

05:59 | A Little Bit of Internet History

In a land far, far away (Houston), in a time long long ago (mid 90s), this kid (me) got AOL. He felt proud. He could tell his friends, "Look, I am on the internet! I am elite!" This was the time of innocence, before Hackers, before Amazon. This kid, upon his account's creation on AOL, was asked, "What would you like to be your screenname, son?"

The kid thought. He thought harder than he had ever before in his life. And there, in his moment of glory, he came up with the most ingenious AOL screenname ever created:

I Fob.

And thanks to Jerry, the kid can once again relive his moment of glory on Who Wants to be a Fobionaire. Indeed, moments like these make the internet truly special. God bless, and see you next week probably later today.

July 22, 2001

16:55 | And, Uh, I Like Cheese

I don't think I have the intelligence to have encoded the following text. It is beyond my reach. How does one type like this? It's more than skill: It's talent.

Quoting random person from random message board found through randomly searching "how to make tapioca pearls" on Google:

cAn aNyoNe pLz tEll mE whEre i cAn bUy thE pEaRls iN sIngApOre... cOz rIght nOw, i oNly kNow thAt taiWaN sElls thEm... iF it cAnnot bE bOught iN sIngapoRe.. pLz tEaCh mE hOw tO makE thEm... thaNkEw~ =Þ e-maIl mE tO hElp...

Update: On second thought, it's not as complicated as it looks. Quite phonetic, in fact. If you would like a challenge, I urge you to go to AsianAvenue. There are many mysterious languages there that will challenge your decoding skills. Aight? Coo.

July 21, 2001

16:01 | Shut Yo' Mouth!

Throughout my high school english classes, I had to write "dialectical journals." Basically, when we were assigned a novel, we would find a passage or something that appealed to us and describe its significance. When we would have our class discussions, we would have these open and tell our classmates our viewpoints. I, for one, was someone who was always a bit off the wall, if you will. It was fun. Literature, even the most boring of the bunch, can be spiced up with a bit of imagination. Well, here's an entry I did for Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness:

In response to: "The Company" (Employer of Kurtz).

Reply: In all honesty, I just have to compare this to the blacksploitation films of the 70s—And their stance against “The Man.” Actually, I can even relate it to the more modern view of “The Man”—“The System.” More or less, it comes down to the basic belief that there’s an overarching restrictor of our destiny that encompasses our being, and in reality we are as pitiful as the Man, the Company, the System lets us be. Apart from the deity-esque viewpoint that these entities provide, we can also view Conrad’s use of the generalities (since he has many occasions when he calls something “The _______”) as a way to escape specificity and provide a more universal meaning to the work.

11:13 | 24th Asian-American International Film Festival

So, the AAIFF started showing films here in NYC last night, starting with The Joy Luck Club, which is probably in my top 10 list of films (surprisingly, you could say). A few of the films that will be showcased in the festival that runs through the 28th include Wu Yen, an epic that stars my favorite CantoPop artist Cecilia Cheung, a supposed Memento-esque thriller from Japan called Kyua (Cure) and lots of Wayne Wang (am I the only person on the planet who appreciated Chinese Box?).

I hope I can catch a few of the films before it ends. It'll be a busy two weeks for me. If anyone wants to go, email me, since, to be honest, I have no idea who that I personally know would be interested in going to watch artsy Asian movies.

Note: There were too many commas in this entry. Read at your own pace.

02:43 | There WIll Be No Linking in This Post

The Webby Awards are the biggest crock of shit on the web.

Mmmm, yah.

July 20, 2001

00:24 | Back From the "Doity South"

Considering I lived in Houston for ten years before making my move here, it's a bit of a sad fact that when I go back, it no longer feels like home. Feels almost like a city of ruins which I'm visiting after a thousand years. The mall I used to go to now seems, for the lack of a better word, ghetto; movie theatres I used to frequent have turned into so-called "dollar cinemas," or have completely shut down; and alas, there has been a great blasphemy that has been committed.

A few months before I left Houston, my friends and I came across a song called "I Want My Chow Mein" (download the mp3 - limited time only) by the Bok Choy Boys, otherwise known as a bunch of UCLA kids with too much time on their hands. We grew to love the song, even attempting to sing it during a talent show. Yet, one of the lines that always baffled us was "I want my boba." What the hell was boba, we wondered. We were at a loss. It took me until a summer trip to New York to find out when my friend Liz took me to Saint's Alp Teahouse. Taro tea with tapioca pearls, she ordered for me—And I fell in love. Widely known as bubble tea, simply put: This shit is good.

So imagine my surprise when I go back to Houston and find a container of boba in my friend Thomas' car. "Yo, what's that?" "Flourballs." "Flour what?" "Flourballs." "No, why the fuck are you calling it that?" He seemed baffled at why I was asking him that. But good bloody hell, "flourballs?" Because of the phonetics of the word, I initially thought he said "flowerballs." Flowerballs or flourballs: I'm not sure which is worse. Someone correct me if I'm wrong, but is there any other place in the whole bloody world it's called "flourballs" instead of boba/bubble tea?

Crazy. That is one of the two things that stuck in my head leaving Houston. The other? I've realized why I'll never stop going to Houston: It's not about the city, for it's tremendously lackluster compared to New York. But it's the people—can't forget the love of the people.

July 15, 2001

04:16 | Legally Blonde (2001)

Having also seen A.I., Kiss of the Dragon and Final Fantasy in the past three weeks, I can happily say that Legally Blonde is by far the most entertaining and enjoyable of these four films. I actually wished it would have gone on for another hour! Yes, I enjoyed it that much.

I'm not a huge Reese Witherspoon fan, yet nonetheless I respect her acting. Given she's not a natural Alicia Silverstone, her Clueless-esque performance was probably much harder to pull off than one would imagine. Any which way, she did a great job, and I genuinely found myself feeling for her character.

The writing was smart and logical for the most part. Near the end, the plot got a bit unnecessary, but the fact that the film wasn't trying to be the next legal drama deluxe made me see past the minor irrationalities (specifically, two characters turned a new leaf as if spring had occurred in October). I mean, the film was just fun; the flow was addictive and kept my attention to the fullest. In the end, good, fun stuff.

Note: This film would have cost be $5.50 in Houston compared to the $10.00 (with a $1.00 surcharge if bought online) in New York, but thanks to dearest Ann and Anthony, we all got in for free.

July 13, 2001

16:31 | Good Samaritans of Public Transportation

Peter6973 (3:20:54 PM): idea about unlimited metro cards
Peter6973 (3:20:58 PM): everytime you leave the subway
Peter6973 (3:21:00 PM): swipe it.
Peter6973 (3:21:04 PM): then somebody could get a free ride
Peter6973 (3:21:07 PM): what do you think of that?

July 12, 2001

04:02 | Final Fantasy; Indications of the Big Apple

Final Fantasy: Yes, at times, I caught myself forgetting that these were not humans. SquareSoft owns you all. Aside from the absolutely revolutionary animation of the film, one of the things that did irk me was the lack of depth in the storyline. Without the depth, the nearly two hour run time gets somewhat tiresome. Pretty is pretty, but how long can you look at a fake Ming-Na belch out the same bullshit about them spirits? Oy. Also, from the second she started talking, I so felt it was The Joy Luck Club all over again. But, overall, it was enjoyable. I didn't expect much (it's based on a bloody video game, after all) besides purty peekchurs and some action, so therefore I wasn't dissapointed.

After dropping off the sweet Angela (buy me food, please, thanks, see you next week) at 106th Street and Columbus Avenue, I encountered a few strangers along the way down back to Water Street.

01: Walking from 106th/Columbus to 96th/Broadway, a man starts calling my name. Tries to sell me $22.50 MetroCard for $10. I tell him I use an unlimited, therefore his card is of no use to me. I walk on.

02: Reading my book at 96th, wating for the 2/3 train, a Mexican man comes up to me and says, "Downtown?" After I realize he's trying to ask me what direction he should go, I used my amazing knowledge of "how to say numbers in Spanish that I learned in the first semester of the sixth grade," we came to the understanding of "I want to go to 150th Street." I told him, "No, Uptown—THAT way" and pointed him the right direction.

03: After exiting the Fulton Street station, on my way to Water Street, I notice a white homeless man with his left hand in his pants smiling gleefully at two other homeless men. As I walk past, I couldn't help but look in his direction: Apparently he noticed he, because he then turned around and attempted to show me his penis.

I kept walking.

Welcome to New York: Indications #110, #012, #078.

July 11, 2001

19:40 | An Askewed Sense of Time

There's nothing better than being told by a government organization that, "Yo, you best be in Houston at 10AM on Friday morning, aight? We needz ta talk to ya." Yes, albeit said in a more proper language, such a command is better interpreted by its thuggish, pseudo-corporate/imperial roots of domination and ruthless need to exert power. So, indeed, due to a letter my uncle received today, I shall be departing New York City via LaGuardia Airport sometime tomorrow evening. This dampens any sense of "planning a visit to Texas and California" I may have had, as now I'm rushed to go back home, but only for a few days. I have projects due at work and, well, I guess I'll just have to tell my boss, "Sorry, yo, Big Brother ain't bein' too cooperative, knowhateyemeen?" Yah.

So yes, I'll be in Houston until the 18th. Wish me happiness, joy, love and hope that the government doesn't bust my sweet ass. If any of you Houston kids are reading this, please be sure to buy me tons of food when I get there. I'll be quite hungry after the government (hopefully doesn't) bust my sweet ass.

For you readers: I love your loyalty. Nothing worse than an unloyal person. (Yo, Reggie White, you hear that, boyo? Take a cue from my boys Biggio and Bagwell—Astros forever.) And for your loyalty, I'll try my best to update while I'm in the hectic process of moving back and forth (and forth—uh oh, old school Aaliyah creeping up on my site). Until then, much love.

July 10, 2001

23:34 | Rollin' Through Da Neighborhood

Holy shit. NYU has bloggers. I suppose this should not come as a surprise to me. After all, I live in a city filled with ten million people, half of whom consider themselves media savvy just because they read the ads on the buses and subways everyday—and who could blame them? When I was in Houston, it was tough finding other people in the area who were as web-biotic as I was. And, well, it's kind of soothing to know that there are people around you who also enjoy spitting their words unto the world (almost) everyday. Nice.

Now, if I could only find Bengali sites!

In today's other news...

#1: I went to Hell's Kitchen for the first time ever. And yo, the pizza there is good. Thanks to Arkadiy for the food!

#2: I've decided Dequinix 8.0 will be launched on August 28, 2001. It will be the first complete site since Dequinix 1.0. The date is symbolic since it is a) my 20th birthday, b) two years to the day of the launch of 1.0.

17:50 | Deciphering a Butterfly's Insomnia, Volume I (March 1999)

01 NAMIE AMURO | a walk in the park
02 SIXPENSE NONE THE RICHER | kiss me
03 AMBER | you are the one
04 BRITNEY SPEARS | baby one more time
05 DONNA LEWIS | i love you always forever
06 AUTOUR DE LUCIE | sur tes pas (corny dream remix)
07 DUBSTAR | stars
08 SARAH MCLACHLAN | angel
09 SPICE GIRLS | 2 become 1
10 LOREENA MCKENNITT | the mummers' dance (dance remix)
11 OLIVE | you're not alone
12 MADONNA | frozen
13 SNEAKER PIMPS | 6 underground
14 PORTISHEAD | mysterons
15 MASSIVE ATTACK | teardrop
16 HOOVERPHONIC | club montepulciano
17 MONO | life in mono

Quite an old compilation of mine made after my friend Stephanie in high school complained that my previous compilations had nearly no women. Well, this one was all women. This was pretty good for chilling to, for laying back against the stars and reminiscing. Even now, most of these songs are very listenable. It's quite hard to get away from Portishead, Massive Attack and Hooverphonic, especially. In fact, only track four causes me to reach for the NEXT button when it comes on. A rather dumb mistake by a naive eleventh grader, I must say.

July 9, 2001

04:32 | Word to Your Motha

I can't believe I'm on my 42nd month of journalling/weblogging.

It must have been mid 1998 when I became part of the Little Bastard experimental journalling collaborative (I'm surprised when you type in "Little Bastard" into Google, you still get LB as the top links). It was around the time of the internet era when personal journals were becoming popular, which also meant more and more lackluster sites were popping up left and right. At Little Bastard, we were always on the lookout for the more intelligent sites, I suppose, ones that caught you by the collar and tugged you in, lipstick smearing, wanting you to death. Yah. And obviously, it was hard. Some sites we'd come across that were good had already become so popular that their heads had gotten bigger than we could handle. So we didn't bother. And then I came across Paul Ford.

Paul Ford ran a site called the Subway Diary. I actually came across it via Yahoo!'s Journals:New York directory, or some derivative thereof. Crazy, I know, but by Lady Luck's wishes, I had found a diamond in the rough. His writing was brilliant, witty, sharp to the edge and always entertaining. We recruited him; in fact, I remember calling him up one time when I was in Queens. It's a pity I never met him; it's even worse that I lost contact with him.

Any which way, he concluded Subway Diary in August of 1998. It took me a while to re-discover his whereabouts: He had pitched a tent near the Ftrain. It was good seeing him write again. Good to see what he has to offer the so-called World Wide Web of general crap. Writers like him make the web special. Writings like this make the web special.

01:03 | Eating Cheap in Manhattan: Version Mastercard

Barilla Linguini, 1 lb. :: $1.29
Ronzoni Spaghetti, 1 lb. :: $1.29
Ragu Chunky Gardenstyle Sauce, 1 lb. :: $2.59
3 Tomatoes :: $1.73
Sourdough Baguette :: $1.69

Multiple meals in Manhattan for under $10 :: Priceless

July 8, 2001

22:42 | Such Blasphemic Speeling Mistake!

Brian pointed out that i cannot speel properly. In the last post, I wrote "Fish of Legend" instead of "Fist of Legend."

Such blasphemy! I apologize.

19:56 | Kiss of the Dragon (2001)

Let's start with a look back at the Bridget Fonda films I have seen in my life:

Point of No Return: Performance paled in comparison to her French counterpart Anne Parillaud. She seemed whiny, bitchy and often I felt like smacking her.

Jackie Brown: Why was she in this film, again? Oh yes, el dumb crackhead girlie comedic relief. Again, whined a lot. A lot. Felt like smacking her quite a bit.

Come to think of it, those are the only two films I've seen of hers. This is probably due to the fact that I was so turned off by her acting in the above two films, I have avoided her at all cost. But, alas, as Kiss of the Dragon has been released with her in it, she wasn't enough of a reason to bypass a Jet Li/Luc Besson combo. The action sequences in the film were great. Albeit, nothing compared to Fist of Legend (actually, nothing at all can compare to that), the Corey Yuen choreography was fun, fun shit. Admittedly, it felt a bit derivative and not very fresh, but the action was there. Indeed, the film lost it for me every time Bridget Fonda came on the screen. I felt like smacking her. What a whiny bitch.

The beginning and ending sequences were pretty solid. There were a few moments in which I felt that they were catering to Jet Li by making his situation "easier," i.e., there's one part where you know there are two guys, yet one waits for the other to die before taking action. There were also a few moments in which I felt a genuine smile on my face and even clapped. In the end, though, the only thing that kept me from enjoying this film more than Romeo Must Die was, indeed, Bridget Fonda. They should release a "New and Improved Non-Whiny" version of the film on DVD with all of Bridget Fonda cut out. I swear, how the hell is she so famous? Wait, is she famous? Probably them paternal connections. Probably.

Did I tell you I feel like smacking her? Thanks.

03:13 | Miscalculations on the Subway

As chance would like it, waiting for the 4 train at the Union Square station, this girl came up and stood beside me. I glanced at her. Once, twice, thrice, for she was arguably the most beautiful girl I had seen in quite a long period. A beautifully slender figure, covered by a nice, smooth black jacket and hair that was black with subtle reddish-blonde streaks. But the most amazing feature must have been her face: it jolted me, struck open a long dormant volcano and created a shock that spew out its innards.

As chance would have it, the 6 train arrived. The door opened and many people rushed out. It must have taken a while for people to get out, for as the girl tried to enter the train, the doors attempted to close, smacking her head on the left. Thereafter, I got on the train. Except that, as I've mentioned, it wasn't my train.

I wanted to go up to her, ask her if she was alright. "Are you OK?" I would ask. And she would reply, "Yeah, but thanks for asking." And then we would smile. Instead, I sat in my seat and she sat in hers, across the aisle and on the left, as I read my book and she stared at the map on the wall.

As the 6 reached Brooklyn Bridge/City Hall station, we both exited. I went and sat down on the bench, now waiting once again for the 4; She went and sat down, behind me, and to the right, waiting for the 4. I continued to read my book. (Yet, I will admit, even reading my novel, I had the crazy notion of slipping her a note stating that, "I think you are amazingly beautiful," as well as writing down an anonymous email address in case she wanted to reach me. Silly, no?)

It was a while before the train arrived. When it finally did, I noticed that she had already gotten up and was standing in anticipation. I proceeded to stand up as well, and headed toward her—but still not as if I was following her, as I was staying to her right. As the train arrived, I noticed that the car to the left of her had few passengers. I headed toward it. And as I did, she, by chance, felled compelled to suddenly cross me in the opposite direction and enter the car to the right of her. I got in; she got in; and by such a crossing was how we departed.

July 6, 2001

07:36 | Simply Put

I wish I knew more people in New York City.

07:19 | Not For the Queasy People...

Ginny (who tends to kill me a lot in Counter-Strike and thus sucks the mostest) linked me to this. I wouldn't usually post something like this, but I doubt this is one many people will come across. The site is in Korean and the stuff is just disgusting(ly funny).

I warn you not to go through with the clickity-click game if you're not prepared for absolute hilarity (and sickness). Otherwise, good shit!

July 4, 2001

02:04 | TechnoGeek Pop Culture in Full Effect

Overheard while leaving the theatre after watching A.I.:

Guy: I wonder if he ran on Windows.

Girl: Huh? I don't get it.

In some ways, I could sum up the film with the exact same reply. More later.

July 2, 2001

20:00 | A Bit on the Spielbergian Front

I think I'm going to go see A.I. alone. I've already felt too much influence and probably have too many expectations. One thing that worries me is that I may or may not like it for the wrong reasons. I've heard it reeks of Kubrick (and of Spielberg, unfortunately), and that gives me even more reason for the solitariness: Kubrick films were never quite the type of films you watched with people. You watch them by yourselves, no drinks, no popcorn, with the mind focused on the glow that is in front of you.

Let's just hope it's not E.T. II.

July 1, 2001

12:19 | Audrey Hepburn Story, The (2000) (TV)

I feel like puking.

I love Audrey Hepburn. I think she is the one of the greatest women, not just actresses, to ever live. I just simply adore her. That aside, what went wrong in this film stems from one single fact:

Jennifer Love-Hewitt is not Audrey Hepburn, never will be, doesn't matter if she gets a breast reduction or facial plastic surgery, for all i could care, she could be conditioned like Pavlov's dog to act the way Audrey did, yet she still will not, ever, even for a second in my mind, be like Audrey Hepburn. Period.

That, in itself, is such a big flaw, that this movie simply could not keep me from, as I have mentioned, puking.

Aside from that amazingly bloody huge flaw, the film itself is, at best, average. Nothing stands out, really, just another network flick trying to be more than it is.

I'm sure Audrey forgives the networks for this. But I sure as heck don't.
By the way, did I mention I'm puking?