- Repo Men: This plot has more holes than swiss cheese
Yesterday, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, after Grayson and I finished slurping down brunch at Chez Oscar, we decided to fight the ‘itis by watching a movie. We picked Repo Men directed by Miguel Sapochnik over Willow, the 1988 classic fantasy film about an adventurous dwarf. In retrospect it was horrible decision.
Repo Men started with an interesting idea: In an age where science can produce artificial organs while men are still slaves to an outrageous capitalistic system, bounty hunters attack men, women, and children, repossessing their silver, vital organs and leaving the indebted to die. Fascinating, but horribly, horribly constructed and riddled with gaps.
For instance, why was there no mention of a government? If there are SO many people with artificial organs, wouldn’t public outcry force politicians to at least subsidize these procedures and restrict brutal repossessions? Why, if the main character suffered heart failure while on the job and using company machinery, didn’t the company pay for his new artificial heart? I’m sure in a society that loves to sue as much as this one, the company would have been on hand and foot to keep Jude Law nice and happy.
My sentiments exactly, Antoine Dodson.
The best worst part? The cutter-porn scene near the end. Jude Law and his feminine counterpart must cut each other open and scan their fake organs into a system so they will be erased and free to live their lives in peace. While they slice each other open and stick their hands in each others chest cavities, they kiss passionately and dry-hump on a white table. What? What is this? I don’t even.
Repo Men got a 6.3/10 on Imdb. I’m giving it a 3.8/10.
- Sad Crying Clown in an Iron Lung Day
Yes, I just made that up.
- Inception: Why isn’t it a book?
I contributed $10 to the whopping $3 million Inception made from its midnight screenings on Thursday night. I checked out the new Alamo Drafthouse on Loop 410 in San Antonio. I don’t know if it was the beer, the greasy popcorn, or the movie itself, but I spent the whole two and a half hours perched on the edge of my leather seat.
The movie never let you rest. Each minute, each exchange of dialogue, was expository. The sets were beautiful, the CGI was impressive, and the actors were right on their mark. I really enjoyed Joseph Gordon-Levitt in this film. It seemed like a completely different role from what I’ve previously seen him in. From what I remember he was always that dorky, off-beat kid with a squeaky voice. In this movie he was smooth and professional, and he pulled it off well. I didn’t care for Ellen Page, however. It could be because of her lines or her flat character, but I didn’t find her believable. Her relationship with the main character, Cobb, was inexplicably simple. I wanted to see more of their connection to explain why Cobb would let her in after he hid his secrets from everyone else in his inner circle.
But that’s what I wanted from the movie in general: more. I left the theater amazed, hoping there was a novel or a series of novels behind it. Unfortunately there is not, it was written and directed by Christopher Nolan. Even though it was a compact film for the amount of information and action, Inception is fascinating concept and visually stimulating.
- Things that make me giggle
“We would like to democratically decide… I don’t know if you’re familiar with the process.”
“POLICE BRUTALITY! You’re being filmed, no brutality!”
- The Creators Project NYC
On Saturday, June 26, I went with a classy, party-boy Grayson Bagwell from Cliche Culture to the NYC launch party of The Creators Project. The inaugural event was held at Milk Studios which graciously hosted the three floors of live music and interactive art pieces. The image above is of me in Muti Randolph’s Deep Screen. It is a cube of 6,144 bulbs of light, set to go off in varying patterns and colors. It felt like being inside a computer circuit, with the lights bouncing on bulbs around me, but strangely magical and ethereal at the same time.
This is Bagwell in front of a glittery, haphazard-looking stack of silver painted boxes. There was a black box on the floor and when you picked it up and moved it around the giant stack, you controlled the direction of the rainbow florescent lights reflecting off the sculpture. There were a lot of amazing pieces. But the highlight for me, besides the free booze of course, was the music. I had to work at Cantor, so I arrived to the party at about 9:30pm which was, consequently, just in time to see Interpol, MIA, Neon Indian, Mark Ronson, and NASA.
The not-so-secret MIA show was fantastic. After bailing on Bagwell and Interpol in the loading dock because the mass of people and June humidity made me feel like I had jumped into a bucket of sweat, I walked to the bar and casually ordered two cranberry and vodkas to refresh myself (don’t judge, it’s a standard trick for long lines at open bars). I stood in the air-conditioning and watched Neon Indian perform, an electronica band I had just written about for VICE. After enjoying a few songs and one of my beverages, I checked my phone. 11:00 pm. MIA was due to start at 11:30, and I figured I’d head up early to make my way to the front.
Along with, oh, 150 other people? Yes, not-so-secret at all. I slowly siphoned my way through the crowd, waiting for air pockets to appear as some deserters grew uncomfortable in the thick throng. As I neared the stage, about four rows of bodies from the edge, I saw Bagwell and Alex Stergiou, a Production Assistant working for VICE’s Guide to Everything for MTV. We waited patiently, dancing to some of the tunes and pushing back on the crowd as more and more people tried to shove their way to the front.
When MIA jumped on the stage and the music from her latest single, Born Free, began to play with the video projected in the background, we were immediately shoved forward. We, the crowd, became one entity in that moment, clamoring to be closer to the one above us. It was like a religious ceremony. She sang to us and her sounds moved down our bodies, vibrating and pulsating as it churned in our heads and our toes. Her Apostles passed out plastic cups to the select few, and poured a clear liquid from a glass bottle into them. Lucky enough to get a taste, I discovered with much appreciation that it was Tequila. Later in the song she stood next to us, over us, holding her hand above the crowd as hundreds rushed forward to meet her. Hands everywhere sprung up, desperately trying to grasp just one finger, just one feel her skin. I clasped her hand and I tickled her stomach when she tried to crowd surf. When her apostle came around to do the same, I snatched his hat.
But soon the crowd became a little too excited and I was shoved to the right, with my feet still planted on the ground. There was a pole about six inches from the ground that stopped my left leg from leaving. I grabbed everyone near me, clawing at their shirts and shoulders, refusing to fall under the crowd. The few seconds that I was horizontal seemed like minutes and I knew my leg was going to snap. I think Bagwell managed to lift me up from behind, and after a few moments of struggles and cursing, I was able to save my shoe too. In a panic and hyperventilating, I gasped “YES” when Bagwell offered to take me outside, just as MIA started singing Galang.
We exited to the entrance of Milk Studios and I settled myself. Feeling ready to take on another crowd, we returned to Gallery 1 to find Mark Ronson on stage and the bar fresh out of liquor. We grabbed some the free mini-Fiji Water bottles headed to the dance floor. Another two hours of dancing passed, and a huge welt was growing darker and darker on my shin. We decided to take our leave.
On the way out we spotted an MIA tag done with stickers similar to the one on my stolen hat. We took advantage of the photo-op despite our exhausted and frail bodies threatening to crumble on the pavement.
All in all, great party VICE!
- I miss Texas
I’ll be leaving for Texas a week from today. I’m really excited for several reasons:
1. Tubing
Have you ever floated down a river, a real river–not that chlorine pool in Sea World, while enjoying an ice cold beer?2. Food
Chicken fried steak con queso. Amen.3. Shopping
I hate shopping in New York. Yes there are more interesting stores, but half of the time I can’t afford them. And I can’t stand how packed the stores get. Have you ever walked through Manhattan Mall? It’s like walking through Times Square. People randomly stop, cut you off, and mosey around. That’s all fine, they do that in Texas too, but the there aren’t like 5 people surrounding you while they do it.4. Family
Duh.5. No Work
This is my favorite. I’ve been working non-stop between my internship and Cantor. Both jobs seem to need me to come in for overtime. I need time to relax and be creative. In Texas, the days move so much slower. I’m so excited for that.
- Posting from my intern desk
Did I mention I’m interning at a magazine? Right now I’m in my little corner at Vice, just hanging out. I’m trying to decide what I want my first writing pitch for their blog to be. I’m leaning towards super bears: a hybrid between Polar and Grizzly bears that has been happening more and more often in the wild. But then there is also sex robots, literary dissection of white power poetry, or interviewing some crazy person. Decisions, decisions.
Anyway, it’s an interesting magazine to intern for right now and I’m having fun letting my creativity fly like the wind (TTA as Brooke Kroeger would say). So far my ideas have been too newsy, so I need to think not only outside the box, but outside the house the box is in. I’ll link you guys to my posts if I manage to get anything published.
Other than that I’m trying to learn Spanish this summer. I’ve decided I’ve seen the disappointed “oh” face too often after people ask me if I speak it, considering, you know, I’m a Cuban-American. And I’d like to speak to my Grandmother one day.
I’m also writing some short stories, which I’ve decided to serialize on this blog. I’ll make little tags for them so you can follow along if you miss an update.
Adios for now! (get it?)
- Lack of updates
Yow-za.
The longer I didn’t update this blog, the easier it was to ignore. That is over today. However, I don’t really have anything interesting to say right now. So I’ll leave you with this picture of me and my city:
- Goodnight, Goodluck
I said goodbye to Stephanie on Thursday night. Tonight I’ll be saying goodbye to Leslie. Tomorrow is Megan’s turn. Then June 5, Jamie. We’ve all graduated and are moving on to the next phase of our lives, some making a more literal move than others. Seeing my friends, some close and some from the periphery, exit my life for the next few years is putting a lot in perspective. For some reason, the Matchbox 20 song I fell in love four years ago in my freshman dorm is playing on repeat in my head.
I’m wakin’ up at the start of the end of the world
But it’s feeling just like every other morning beforeThis summer is beginning just like every summer since Kindergarten. I took a mental leave from the world, watching TV shows and sleeping all day. Granted, I’m starting graduate school in the fall so it’s not that far of an extension, but still. I graduated college. Things should feel a little different. I’m no longer considered a silly student by outsiders. I don’t have a major, I have two degrees. All those things I wanted to do need to start happening. That book I wanted to write? I need to outline it and put my hands to the keys.
Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time? I didn’t get the internships I really wanted. I didn’t get into Phi Beta Kappa. All of those things I thought were supposed to be given, that I was entitled to, weren’t so easily gained. I did a lot, don’t get me wrong. I worked my ass off. But with all of that effort, you’d think I’d feel like I was somewhere. I’m just waking up in the same bed to the same alarm clock. The day after graduation was just like the day before graduation. I can’t fight the feeling that I’m mediocre. That maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t worth the $50,000 of debt. (Que Reality Bites)
I started running but there’s no where to run to
I sat down on the street took a look at myselfIf anything, my friends’ leaving gives me a certain courage. I subscribed to the idea that “making it” in New York means being able to go to school here, find an amazing job that none of my high school friends could get, making the big bucks, and spending the rest of my life as a hoity-toity Yankee. But that is changing. Now I’m starting to think that I’d really like a dog. I’d like to live somewhere where I can pay a reasonable amount for a nice apartment (without living with three people). I’d like to have nice things. And I’d like to be able to travel. Right now living in New York means just surviving.
And it’s been fun; I love it. But this isn’t it. My friends acknowledgment of this, their exiles from the great big city, means I could do it too. And, more importantly, that it wouldn’t be failure.
Well I, believe, it all, is coming to an end
Oh well, I guess, we’re gonna pretend,
Let’s see how far we’ve come
Let’s see how far we’ve comeBut I’m still not quite convinced. At least I have another year and a half to figure it out.
- So I graduated college today.
It still doesn’t feel right to say, “I am an New York University Alumna.”