27.3.05
wireless hotspot
Sitting in JFK waiting for a 10 PM flight to Las Vegas that has been apparently delayed to 10:35 PM, I look up and see Jetblue's Wireless Hotspot Free! sign. So. I get to test out the new Powerbook's wifi capabilites, and here it is. Blogging at Gate 10 while the people mill around a gate that has no clear waiting area - it just sort of melts into the cafe area which is now the actual waiting area. Dylan is asleep and I'm stuffed from a big Easter Sunday feast that included a mango cream cake that was just heavenly and some stale sansrival. Listening to the
Postal Service which is always a calming experience and makes the wait more bearable.
24.3.05
spring snow
Despite a covering of snow this morning, Macy's says it's spring with its Flower Show which brought in the crowds off the streets of New York City this week. But honestly, I wasn't that impressed despite the hours and hard work that is put into the affair. Vividly colored flowers, shrubs, and even a grapefruit tree adorned Handbags, Cosmetics, and Jewelry inside the department store. Bellagio has a better show in their garden year-round, changing themes and botany to fit every season. First, it's a feat to bring blooms into the desert, second, they're open 24/7 - the Spring Flower Show just can't compete. I was more interested in the sale on the second floor, and the window display was more interesting, featuring Kermit and Miss Piggy among the spring blooms.
23.3.05
maota mga musika!
I'm holding it in my hands, the exact size as you see here. So in preparation of filling it's 1000 song capacity, I asked my dad to do me a favor and borrow some CDs from the library and copy them. Among my long list and the first things he uploaded were Macy Gray, Jay Z, and Fatboy Slim. His exact words on the other end of the telephone line when he called to tell me that he had copied the music were "
Maota mga musika!" roughly translating to "Such ugly music!" I laughed and offered the cause: You're just old! He laughed back at me and confessed that Macy Gray was not bad, but the rest was, what the hell kind of music anyway? Similarly, the moment my mother hears hip-hop/rap music, she tells me "
Di ma na kanta, puro balikas!" - it's all swearing, not singing, as she catches the clear f-words and nothing much else in the frenzy of the rhythm. I wonder if someday, when my own son asks me to get him music for his brain-inserted music module, I'll be saying the same things about his musical preferences. 1000 songs is a lot. But we'll see as I've knocked off 1 GB already and I'm just getting started.
22.3.05
If you ever were a fan of Disneyland as a child, especially the Haunted Mansion, which I and a handful of cousins were (it was a favorite must-visit despite the countless times we went to Disneyland, still is), then this story is bound to pull at your childhood heartstrings. Clearly funny and out there as humans defy mortality, time and money,
Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom builds a world around the most globally famous of amusement parks. As sci-fi reading goes, I'm hard-pressed to suspend disbelief for other worlds and creations of an entirely plausible future - I find difficulty buying into it unless it is tightly constructed with no immediately visible holes in the continuum. I don't want to have to map it out or refer to companion or guide books. Just give it to me straight and simple, and most of all make it believable which is what Cory Doctorow does. Nevermind his terminologies, you'll get the gist of the lingo and the acronymns without too much head scratching as Doctorow creates a world of tomorrow at once ridiculous yet paralleling the present. This is not a book of pretty prose, but of observation, wit and humor. It tells us there is something more to be found beyond plugging into electronic systems and receiving virtual experiences without actually experiencing them, no matter how orgasmic the episode. Tradition, culture, history and a sense of humanity still has weight centuries from now, and murder, even in the face of being able to reboot from your last brain backup, is still wrong.
21.3.05
spring
It's officially spring, according to the calendar. But outside, it's gray and mucky, with leafless trees still lining the streets. The streets are awash in black grime from the day before's rain, and the city just looks appallingly un-spring like. I was at the post office earlier trying to snail mail some stuff, and I had no choice but to park in the bus stop zone, because a)there is never enough parking spots in Jersey City and b)I and a million others have done it a million times before;
I just need to pop in, mail this stuff and I'll be right out. Well, if it hadn't been for the woman who asked me for spare change as I was entering the post office whom I duly ignored because a)I never have spare change because b)I'm a plastic pusher because it just simplifies things to never have cash around aside from the fact that I get 1.7% cash back for each transaction, I'd be holding a parking ticket charging me $30 or upwards. You see, she popped into the post office asking "Whose biege car is that outside? You're getting a ticket". My car is not beige. It's gold. But as I parked into the bus stop zone earlier, I had misgivings whereas any other day, I would have no qualms parking there. I knew she was talking about my car (which has on occasion been also called "brown") so I ran outside to see a police officer writing on his pad looking ever so glum as the weather. I rushed to him looking like in a big hurry to leave and I reminded him, "I was just leaving!" He threw me a couple of contemptible eyeballs and I realized I left Dylan inside the post office in the haste to ward off a ticket I had no intention in the world to pay. He kept his eyeballs contemptible and continued to scribble on his ticket pad and said glumly, "You parked on a bus stop." I had no rebuttal as I ran back to the post office to find some nice lady holding Dylan's hand. I quickly thanked her and ran back to the car to realize my statement about just leaving. I ushered the boy into his car seat and when I popped back out of the car, the cop had left. I checked the wipers for a stuck piece of paper, but there was nothing anywhere. I looked across the street and saw his squad car and he, sitting ever so dismal in the driver's seat. I left in a hurry and made my way to a MikeyD's as I promised Dylan a Happy Meal before we left the house. I didn't get to mail my packages, but for a mucky day, it turned out that three people had worked together unknowingly so that I didn't have to spend more than five bucks today. So, uh, thanks I guess?
17.3.05
16.3.05
uninspired
This was back from Dylan's Posse wrestling days. He's more pumped up now and got rid of his pathetic posse. He prefers to tag team it with the
Mucha Lucha bunch these days. This picture appears courtesy of a brain currently devoid of creativity. To prove the point further, somebody else did the illustration.
Imagine if you had to write or illustrate for a living and you came up with...nothing, due to lack of inspiration. There's nothing I desire to write about at this moment. Racking my brains and I come up with Nevadas's flatlands and see nothing for miles and miles around but sand. If I could turn that sand into a dreamscape it would be great, but instead it just blows in the wind to reshape the landscape that I cannot see.
11.3.05
muzak
The show i missed can be lived vicariously through others, thanks to a friend who sent me a copy of the
Pixies' live show in NYC last December. 18 great tracks of nostalgia - the best kind to spend a weekend recovering from a two-week-long dark haze of viral infection: coughing, intensely stuffy nose, fever and head and body aches of the worst kind. Transporting back to Boston in the late 80s, following around a small band called the Pixies to bookstore and record store appearances, never noticing anything until catching their video on MTV's 120 Minutes and noticing the one guy playing guitar in the band looked like a Filipino - Joey Santiago!
Early 80's SKA! Hearing
The Specials again makes me want to jump around the room, stomp my feet, and sing at the top of my lungs
"Pressure drop, oh pressure, oh yeah, pressure's gonna drop on you!" It's time to go back to the job listings and earn some money...
Meanwhile I could go for some The Selector, Fun Boy Three, The/English Beat, General Public and Madness. Makes me miss the days of I've Seen Elvis and
Put3Ska with Myra's incredible vocals, no bathrooms and downing lots of San Mig beer.
If you haven't yet heard, but should have by now,
the Killers are the newest wave! Hailing from Vegas, hard to believe given the dismal state of the local music scene there, I automatically took a liking to them. If you remember
Send me an Angel from
Real Life, if you ever were a Duranie at some point and loved the gamut of New Wave, listen to this band! The fact is, they had to leave Las Vegas to become famous in the UK before America even batted an eyelash. Sounds like The Strokes' story, but the music is 10X better.
I saw
Moby 5 years ago in a small place called The House of Blues in Las Vegas. Moby makes you want to dance, although his little tea shop makes you want to run away from uber hip cafés with bad service and a bunch of posers. The ltd. edition
Hotel double CD includes a 70 minute ambient music disc. It takes off where
18 and
Play left off. More gospel, elctro-pop, and guest vocals on this one. I've yet to give it a real good listen, but it's hard to hear it over Spongebob's laughter and Squidword's moaning.
