Art, Vandalism, & Advertising

To me the word graffiti is a lot like the word pornography- it connotes a value judgement by the speaker. I certainly don't see any point in repression or prosecution of spray-paint artists if the end results serves to make their cities more unique and visually interesting. There is certainly plenty of unique, meaningful and even beautiful street art out there that gets a negative rap because of the ubiquitous tagging in some places (while some tags are what I would call art, most are the human equivalent of a dog pissing on a fire hydrant: pure territorial marking). Then again, I regard most billboard advertising as visual pollution (I make some exceptions for especially amusing, attractive, or subversively altered ones)...

So I have mixed feelings about this story (via Neatorama) about a guy who makes graffiti by selectively cleaning the built-up dirt and grime off of his works. On the one hand, he has the authorities utterly confused about whether they can prosecute him for cleaning. Good for him. On the other hand, he seems to be more of a commercial artist/advertiser than a true beautifier of his urban landscape.

I guess it really all is in the eye of the beholder. Where should society draw the line, if at all?

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Stake

Three years ago, my wife Min and I were at odds on the subject of television. We had just moved into our new house, the first dwelling we had ever owned, and to help make the mortgage payments we decided to give up cable TV. That decision continues to this day and has been an overall smashing success as far as I’m concerned. But there were bumps in the road, and I think the one I’m going to tell you about here was illustrative about marriage in some way that may go beyond our individual situation.

As background, I’ve already mentioned here that I’m a football fan. What I haven’t yet mentioned, unless it is blatantly obvious about me in every word I write, is that I also have a tendency to be a bit snobbish about a number of things. In a devastatingly charming way, of course. Prime-time TV shows happen to be one of those things.

So, back to three years ago. With our newfound dearth of channels, we began to notice that there is a lot less on the tube that we could agree on. Whereas previously we could always settle on some old movie, Iron Chef battle or Law & Order re-run, now there was no middle ground where our tastes differed. And differ they did. Min would typically want to watch one of the several trashy (there I go being a snob again) serial dramas, most often involving 28-year-olds asking each other to the high school prom. It was my version of TV hell- I just couldn’t take it. So I would usually go off on my own to read or play video games, whatever. Meanwhile Min was feeling like a football widow every Sunday as I spent 4-8 hours each weekend during the season devoting myself to the intricacies of Bill Belichick’s defensive schemes. The end result was that we spent an increasingly tiny portion of our lives together, well, together. What was left over was spent mostly working on or around the house, a fixer-upper that is still to this day a work in progress, or running errands. We were feeling more like room-mates than husband and wife. It was not good.

The solution to this dilemma was brilliantly simple, when it finally occurred to me. I offered my wife a deal: I would watch 3 hours a week of any television shows of her choosing, in exchange for her joining me on the couch for one NFL game a week and rooting for the Patriots when they were on in our viewing area. In addition we would agree to attempt to understand and appreciate each other’s chosen programming, or at least withhold audible criticism. She agreed, and it went fairly swimmingly the first year. I think I ended up having to watch Smallville, a new show called Lost, and something else that 1st season. Min claimed she could "hear my eyes rolling" during Smallville, which is probably true. But I started to like Lost, I really enjoted the challenge of teaching Min about football (she had always disliked it and most sports), and more importantly we enjoyed spending the time together again. Cuddling, talking about what we liked and so forth.

For year 2 we were going to strike the same deal, but now I was a Lost-watcher regardless and she really didn’t feel very enthusiastic about any other shows. Enter the Slayer.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer had at one time been the epitome of television-I-avoided. I actually derided the show and (probably) her for watching it just about every week, so she took to visiting a friend’s apartment to watch it (they both thought it was the best show on TV). But that summer, at the weakest moment of my football withdrawal, my wife struck (like a stake to the heart?). She would watch football again, but this time I had to watch Buffy on DVD. Three seasons of 44-minute episodes to equal one season on the gridiron.

By the end of Buffy season 3 it was still only July- we had watched at least one show a night for more than a month, and while I wouldn’t describe myself as hooked, with nothing better on and no football in sight we ended up watching the whole run by the time September rolled around. Min watched football as agreed and by January we were both mourning a Patriots playoff loss to the Denver Broncos.

Yesterday, we watched our first regular season football game of the year. We’re primed for the Lost season premiere. And we joined Netflix to keep us mutually entertained throughout the offseasons. Things are much better between us. Min's favorite football player, is Rodney Harrison, my favorite Scoobie is a Anya, and we dig that about each other.

What is the point of this long-winded history? Just this advice: Take interest in the things that interest your significant other, even if they seem dumb to you. Participate. Broaden your horizons. You’ll be the happier for it. That’s all.

Listage: Five Musical Films That Don't Annoy Me

I don't think this one will be as universal as the kung-fu list. I'm not a huge fan of the traditional Broadway-style musical, in which characters start singing to each other as soon as they meet for no known reason. But musical numbers can be a very entertaining and powerful component of film (or stage, but this is a film list). For the most part, the movies that follow have some special setting or plot component that explains the musical content. Without further ado, and with bracketed lyrical snippets:

1. Cabaret- Just a great film, exploring the decadence of 1930s Berlin and the rise of the Nazis alongside the characters' personal angst and struggles. Almost all of the music takes place on stage at the titular cabaret. ["...but there's room on ze bottom if you drop in zome night"]
2. This is Spinal Tap- Yes, it counts, hilarious cult mockumentary though it may be. I still rock out to my cassette of the soundtrack. The music is all onstage, performed by the band themselves. ["My baby fits me like a flesh tuxedo/ I like to sink her with my pink torpedo"] Indeed.
3. Chicago- More a fave of my wife than myself, but it does have lots of Bob Fosse style a la Cabaret, and doesn't nearly annoy me. Most of the music takes place inside the less-than-stable mind of Roxy, the protagonist. ["Let's all stroke together, like the Princeton crew/When you're strokin' Mama, MAMA'S STROKIN' YOU!"]
4. Dancer in the Dark- If you don't shed a tear at this film, shame on you. Bjork is joyous, tragic and magnetic. The music takes place in her mind as she escapes from the dreariness of her life into a fantasy world based on Hollywood musicals. ["This is not the last song..."]
5. Hair- There's no special reason for most of the music in Hair, which makes it a bit of an oddball on this list. But I just enjoy the subversive nature of the plot and the psychedelic nature of the songs. Plus, nudity. ["Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair, shining gleaming steaming flaxen waxen/ Give me it down to there, hair, shoulder length or longer, here, baby, there, mamma, everywhere, daddy daddy hair/ Flow it, show it, long as God can grow it, my hair!"]
6. Bonus TV selection: Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode, "Once More With Feeling"- this time an evil curse is the reason for all the singing and dancing. Mentioned here because it's the best Buffy episode evah, and it's a good segue into my next planned post. ["Bunnies! Bunnies! It must be bunnies!"]

Fido vs. Salvador Dali

What is it with dog/cat stereotyping?

From an article in the Village Voice, this paragraph struck me (emphasis mine):

The closest I've come to getting a handle on all this is something painter Eric Fischl has talked about. Imagine calling two pets, one a dog, the other a cat. Asking a dog to do something is an amazing experience. You say, "Come here, Fido," and Fido looks up, pads over, puts his head in your lap, and wags his tail. You've had a direct communication with another species; you and Fido are sharing a common, fairly literal language. Now imagine saying, "Come here, Snowflake" to the cat. Snowflake might glance over, walk to a nearby table, rub it, lie down, and look at you. There's nothing direct about this. Yet something gigantic and very much like art has happened. The cat has placed a third object between you and itself. In order to understand the cat you have to be able to grasp this nonlinear, indirect, holistic, circuitous communication. In short, art is a cat.

All I can say is Jerry Saltz, you may be a fine art critic, but you've never owned a coonhound. At least art doesn't eat Pottery Barn curtains while launching tendrils of saliva that would make a giant squid blush in all directions. More to the point, I've got a pretty strong feeling I could summon The Persistence of Memory to my front door with Jedi mind-powers before my hard-headed hound will act as you've indicated (unless I'm holding food).

I do give you credit for using the word "aholistic", though. Tee hee.

Listage: Seven Martial Arts Movies That Anyone* Can Enjoy

Enter the Dragon- The mother of all kung-fu movies, but it also happens to be a decently taut action thriller. Bruce Lee was one intense dude, and the tournament scenes could personally kick Jean-Claude Van Damme’s ass into next week.

Rush Hour- I personally enjoy a lot of Jackie Chan movies, but this one has a little something for everyone. A good cop/buddy picture with Jackie Chan-style action sequences. (And it has a pretty fair sequel, including Zhang Ziyi, who will appear again on this list.)

Miracles (aka Qiji) - I choose this one to be my representative of Jackie Chan’s early Hong Kong career. It's a loose remake of Pocketful of Miracles. The plot and acting is typically goofy but amusing enough to keep you going between amazing Jackie stunts. The final fight scene is incredible, maybe his best ever.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon- This is the first of what I have begun to call the martial/art flicks. I define this sub-genre by a heavy dependence on beautiful scenery, cinematography, dance-like fight sequences and a plot tinged with romanticism. Speaking of beauty, it stars the nubile and flexible Zhang Ziyi.

The House of Flying Daggers- Another martial/art flick, another opportunity to mention the lithe and multi-talented ZZ. This film is even more oriented towards dance/choreography visual themes- not totally dissimilar to watching one of those golden-age Hollywood musicals.

The Karate Kid- Yes, this is a martial arts movie, and it’s a feel-good family drama. Johnny is a superb archetype of the teenaged-rich-popular-asshole character. We all love to root for the old guy from Happy Days and Vinnie's cousin, but let's face it, we'd root for a rutabaga if it were up against Johnny. Plus, it's highly quotable to an almost Airplane-ish degree. Sweep the leg!

Kung-Fu Hustle- This one has a uniquely strange visual style, and it’s just plain fun and funny.

*By anyone, I mean you don’t have to like kung-fu movies in general, but you do need to be willing to read subtitles. When I saw 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' for the first time, people actually walked out of the theater when they realized (gasp!) there were subtitles! Fools! Because A, dubbing is annoying, and 2, it would have been a magnificent movie even if you never understood a word of what was being said.

My Philosophy

A friend of mine who had been a philosophy major in college once told me I came the closest of all of his friends to living out my personal philosophy. In my view this would have been a great compliment had I known at the time what my personal philosophy was. And though I am older and slightly wiser now, it is a question I still struggle pondering. There are a few philosophical opinions that I consciously hold, but what constitutes my "personal philosophy", and how I should apply it to my life, is far more fleeting. That is one of the things I hope to examine in future posts.

2 Kinds of Groggy

So, the NFL football season started last night. As a lifelong supporter of the New England Patriots, I had to hold my nose and root for the somewhat-hated Steelers against the even-more-hated Dolphins. It was a fairly enjoyable game though, with the 'Fins crashing and burning in the 4th quarter, which is not the point.

Point A is, the night games are way too late. Fuck the West coast and local news, they should kick off at 6PM EST, so I could watch them in entirety without feeling like a zombie at work the next morning.

Point 2 is, my dog gets up way too early. Much to the dismay of my wife and I, he has fallen back into the bad habit of waking up increasingly early and whining to be let out into the back yard for a piss. This morning it commenced around a quarter to five, nearly an hour before the regularly appointed time. He knows this gambit usually works, by the way, because by 4:45 AM if I am woken, I will usually need a piss myself, and after said bodily function the chances are fair that I'll heed the siren call of coffee more than the pull of bed.

So now, hypothetical reader, you know a few things about me- I have a wife, a dog, and a TV, I drink coffee and watch football- and I have learned something perhaps about life- the law of diminishing returns applies to many things apart from the economic realm, including bed.

Now I need to go get my second cup of coffee.