Millennium Actress

I’m almost through my latest stack of anime. Looking forward to the next installments of all the series I’m in to. Watching series can be quite an investment of time, most people aren’t willing to dedicate.

For those people, I wanted to recommend Millennium Actress.



It’s a one shot movie that'd received critical acclaim in it’s theatrical run. I’d ordered it after reading some positive write-ups. As luck would have it, my first order of Millennium Actress was part of a much larger order of anime that’d gotten lost in the postal system. Thanks USPS!

Undeterred, I ordered it again from Amazon, albeit at a higher price and with more (unnecessary) items.

However, I’m glad I did.

It’s a beautifully animated piece, with lush backgrounds and fantastic, fluid movement. Probably some rotoscoping involved. The storytelling is top notch as well as very inspired.

Admittedly, it’s not an easy movie to plow through. Some of the storytelling elements are confusing. I’m purposely being vague because you have to see it to understand.

Depending on your point-of-view, another negative could be the movie is NOT dubbed in english, only subtitled. There have been some commenter complaints to this point but I’ve personally decided that it’s actually better subtitled. Granted you MAY miss some of the great animation while reading the subtitles, but what you gain is a more invested interest in the movie. Perhaps that’s why some people become so addicted to anime, myself included.

All things aside, see it. It’s a great story. It got me misty and that’s saying a lot.

Struggling

It’s been a tough morning.

Indigestion-induced insomnia kept me up late. My stomach had been sour early in evening, but that didn’t stop me from having dinner with my friend Oscar. The company and the food were great but it laid on top of an already troubled base. We walked about the West Village in the beautifully cool, evening. That kind of helped. Oscar mentioned dessert. I nearly burst from the thought.

Burp. Ugh.

Around 1:30AM, sitting and looking up at the ceiling, I rued my consumption decisions.

2:00AM, I laid/sat in bed, hoping to fall asleep. The BF cuddled close and I warned him not to squeeze. Fitfully, I did sleep, getting up only once but returning right away. In my dreams, I think I’d been visited by an animal spirit. Could’ve been the burrito talking, if not, I wonder what it means.

I dragged my ass this morning. I woke late. I ached, I pained. I was hemming and hawing to myself about everything. It was ALL bleak.

After struggling all morning, I gave up the thought of going to the gym. I’ll chalk today up as a rest day.

Instead, I picked up lunch. I was hesitant however I was starved. Walking to the spanish store around the corner, my tired eyes squinted from the blazing sun. The balmy air blew hotly, lulling me into sleep. Grabbing soda and chicken stew over rice, I rushed back. I ate voraciously, happily.

Everything is rosy again. Still fatigued, I stopped my spiral towards a hunger-induced depression.

The Night I Went to Snaxx.

After a year and a half of reading about Snaxx in NYC blogs, I finally went.

I didn’t know what to expect and I didn’t know how I’d fit in.

Like recently after WYSIWYG, I went to NoWhere bar with the gay bloggers. The night was called “Big Lug,” a party for big boys and their admirers. I unwittingly arrived before the blogger pack. I’d broken off to pick up my gym bag at the office, taking the subway up to 14th Street while the group walked. Sauntering in to the bar, a quick scan registered no one I knew. I bought a beer and I tried to blend in. Didn’t take long for me to get a bar stalker, a 6 foot plus scary dude. Rather than say anything to me, he would walk close and present his belly. Pushing the shirt taut with his girth, he’d paced back and forth, hoping I’d make initial contact.

Um… no.

The blogger pack eventually showed up whereupon thereafter I managed a protective blogger circle of at least two persons depth from my stalker(s). I attracted a braver one that at least elbowed me in passing. The party certainly felt more like “Runt” to me.

I digress… back to Snaxx.

I accompanied RoboCub, his BF RoboPapi and our friend, Alan on Friday night.

We’d arrived at the Westside Tavern to hear the doorman warn the incoming male/female couples that the downstairs was gay. That had some homophobic overtones, don’t you think? Ignoring it, we walked through the bar to the downstairs steps. Paying the cover, we walked down into the homosexual den of inequity.

Hmm… don’t know what I was getting all worked up about. It was simply a handsome group of guys hanging out.

DJ Gustavo was spinning some likable tunes. He was switching off with DJ Super Dave, who seriously needed to clean his records. DJ Honey Dijon was hanging out and couldn’t tolerate the skipping, intervening to pick the needle up and reset it.

Notably, I met Vasco and ran into Rod, whom I’d met at my “Big Lug” experience.
Surprise punching me in the chest was friend Oscar.

It was a good time.

FYI, Snaxx won’t be back till Sept. 8th.

Afterwards, Robocub, RoboPapi and I headed out to mr. Black to shake some tush. It was fun but short lived. Friend O believes that mr. Black is over because it’s been written up in the New York Times. While I’m loathe to agree with O, he may be right. The crowd didn’t have the same vibe as the last few times I’d been there.
Pity.

And that was the Night I Went to Snaxx.

BBQ saturation.

My EZ-Pass statement will attest, it’s been nearly every weekend, the BF and I have headed to the summer cottage aka his brother’s Staten Island home. Though it’s a mere 20 minute drive into the borough, it’s a whole different world.

Welcome to Suburbia, where weekends are filled with barbecue, kids and pools.

It’s a nice change of pace. We hang out on the deck, jumping in the pool to cool off. His brother and sister-in-law appreciate the adult company. The neighborhood kids, while great in number and overwhelming, aren’t much for conversation. Mostly, they scream a lot, leap in and out of the pool, repeatedly, ad nauseum, and run around like maniacs.

Ah youth. Ah innocence.

There’s lots of eating. It’s what Italians like to do. Barbecue is a activity. It has been a summer filled with seared meat. Why slave over a hot stove inside, when you can do it outside? The mixture of danger (fire) and food, very manly and exciting too.

More times than not, before heading out, the BF hits the pork store in Brooklyn, picking up whatever vittle he or his brother has a craving for: Sausage, of various shapes, sizes and flavors (Get your minds out of the gutter, please!), baby back ribs, kebobs, chicken.

I’m not complaining. Put it in front of me, I’ll eat it. (There you go again, naughty minds.)

But while the food is vital and has to be good (and lately, it’s been scrumptious), it’s definitely the act of gathering as a family that takes precedence.

Guess you can’t have too many barbecues.

Whether all this barbecue is good or bad for my body, I reserve judgement till I get to the gym scale.

Loot Avalanche

Continuing with my boring theme, I've been slowly getting caught up on my stack of unwatched anime/movies.

And… sigh… adding to it.



An order that had gone AWOL in transit, had been resent and received.
So, I'm back to swamped again.

I've watched through some of them. While I totally enjoyed them, I'm left surly because they left off on cliffhangers. Grumble. I'll have to wait no less than a month for the resolution.

Being Boring*

*borrowed from MacBoyX, without permission. :)

Whilst not rushing around at ungodly hours of the night/morning from one club event to another, things tend to be slow and mundane for me.

Ergo, I tend to be mundane.

Slow? Not likely. I maintain a caffeinated, stimulated existence. Not consciously mind you, but mostly through routine now. Throw in coffee, too much Coca-Cola Zero, Thermoburst™, and MegaMan® Multi-vitamins, you’ve got a fairly potent brew of hyper-activity simmering just below the surface. I’ve been doing this for quite a while. Remember ephedra? I cut my teeth on it. There’s probably very little chance I’ll blow out my aorta.

Add to everything, I’m a carb freak especially when it comes to rice. It was a staple food growing up. I could eat loads of it.

When there’s no clubbing, there’s excess amounts of energy which can make for either great productivity or great restlessness. The week has been a mixed bag so far. Keeping busy with running around in the morning with dropping off AutoLove for 10K mi. look over one day and picking up next, getting a haircut and hitting the gym. All this before getting into the office at 10:30. The gym does the most to keep my boundless energy to a human level. I’ve hit it six times this week.

However I allowed myself to skip this morning.

Last night, I hit GYM bar with friend N for drinks, then rolled to G for another and back to Typhoon for dinner. I mused that living in Brooklyn keeps me in check. Otherwise I’d be out more often than not, more often than is reasonable and healthy IMO.

Heh.

From this momentary lull, a boatload of crazy is coming. I’ll be ready and waiting.

Ultraviolet

Worst movie.

Ever.

Partial Power (again)

Walking up the stairs this morning, the elevator had no power, I came in to a hobbled office.

Computers had electricity, one printer did not.

Trying to login to the network, no go. The server was a casualty.

Internet? Nope.

This feels familiar.

When was it… Oh yes, last Tuesday. Similar situation.

This seems like a bad trend.

Albeit, I wouldn't mind losing complete power now. I'd happily go home.

(Un)Fortunately, a new APS and an extra long extension cord, we're back in business. Otherwise, I'd be hijacking someone's wireless signal to post this.

AC is still out. Can't wait for my arms to start sticking to my desk.

Brooding - Independence Weekend Recap

Apologies for the unintended silence. The off-time during July 4th weekend from blogging just carried over into the week.

It’d been a nice, Independence Day weekend, lots of running around, hitting the beach, barbecues, eating too much, friends and unfortunately only a touch of dancing.

I’d been mostly sulking the past few days about that last bit.

Last year, I’d taken friend M to Spirit to hear Danny Tenaglia for birthday, where we’d had a blast, I was more than happy to oblige again this Independence Day. The inimitable Mike P. of Blather and Bosh joined us as well. I drove in from Brooklyn and picking him up along the way.

Funny moment, after leaving my house and driving many blocks enroute to Mike P., I had to turn back around because I’d forgotten M’s gift. I seethed and admonished myself that I’d become Friend Frank, making a simple task into an unnecessarily, complicated one. And I got lost in Flatbush for a moment but it was my old neighborhood. Even drove past my old elementary school. Yeah, the one I chipped my tooth at.

Continuing…

Mike P. and I stopped by the Eagle for a beer while we waited for M to arrive. Mike P. geeked with the bartender, talking about WoW. Said bartender also threw down the invisible gauntlet, ballyhooing his prowess in Halo. Perhaps a test of skills is in order.

Getting M’s phone call, I left Mike P. to meet up with her and head over to Spirit.

Arriving, clumps of people waiting for other clubs, momentarily deceived us. We thought it would take forever to get in but it wasn’t the case. We got in quickly, painlessly. As an added bonus, we walked in to see Danny standing by the entry. Saying hello and introducing M, we chatted.

He remarked that he hadn’t seen me in forever and I’d disappeared.
I meekly responded, “I was at the Crobar party.”
“Well, you don’t make yourself known anymore.”
I was crushed. Hugging Danny, I promised to do better and we went into the club.

The club was not very packed. The opening DJ was playing some minimal tech house and the crowd was grooving. The mood was thick with anticipation. Everyone sensed they were in for a magical journey. Danny jumped on the mic to wish everyone a Happy Independence Day and with the promise of a 12 hour marathon set, got everyone foaming at the mouth

By the time, he took the decks, we were all ready.

Earlier on, Danny experienced technical difficulties, going so far as to state so on the mic as he called for some help in the booth. Mike P., who’d rejoined us by now, winced in pain as he heard Danny flub a mix.

We’d never perceived these events as portents. We should’ve.

Around 3-4AM, while we danced, emergency flood lights washed over a portion of the club. Other parts were plunged into darkness. Danny came on to the mic to announce that most of the 27th Street club strip had lost power. However, Spirit, our club was the only place still rocking albeit hobbled. Con Edison was called. We hoped they would save the day.

We continued to dance.

Noticeably, the air got thicker, wetter. The AC had been a casualty of the power loss.

We continued to dance.

I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination but it felt like when the AC died, Danny ramped up the energy in the music. This was contrary to what I would have expected.

The floor was slick with a sheen of water. Everyone slipped and slid, dancing around, drenched in sweat, grooving happily, energetically. They were having a blast as was I.

Danny announced, Con Ed was on the scene. We kept our fingers crossed.

Around 6:30AM, I noticed the bartenders shutting down their areas, putting away liquor, not manning their stations. Trying to get to the bathroom, I noticed, they’d been shut too. Uh-oh. Not good.

I went back to M and Mike P., saying I don’t think the party was going to go much longer.

Sure enough, 7:00AM as Danny mixed in the next track, the music cut to a dead silence. Con Ed failed to restore power.

We hung around the darkened dancefloor. Stupidly, I thought, “if it’s over, why don’t they bring the main lights on?”… um… duh?

We waited, hoping for the music to start up again.

But that never happened.

I wasn’t ready to stop but I had to. With M and Mike P., we headed to AutoLove. Dropping them home, I arrived home around 8.

Unsatisfied and disappointed, I laid in bed for much of the day.

Hence, I’ve been brooding.