I didn't watch the Presidential Debate. I don't need that sort of frustration. I know how I feel towards both candidates (they both suck), and between two sucky candidates, I know for myself who I think is worse - the one who already had four years to prove himself but still fucked it up royally.
As far as I'm concerned, America has already lost. With an idiot as incompetent as Bush even having a chance of being re-elected, Kerry and the U.S. have already lost. Because with the race so tight, that means it isn't a fact that Bush is a complete idiot. It means that it isn't a fact that the war in Iraq was unjustified and not based on facts. It means that the discrediting of the U.S. in the international community isn't fact. It means that Bush's neglect of the economy isn't fact. It means that it isn't fact that when Bush opens his mouth, the most stupidest things come out. And these things are indisputible, self-evident facts.
The only silver lining I can see is that Bush being re-elected is the springboard for Hillary to become the first woman President of the United States of America. Give Bush four more years, and whoever the Democrats nominate for President will be a shoe-in; landslide victory. Whatever Bush does, I'm sure the effect on America will make Watergate look like peeing in a public pool. It's a shame that this is what it will take to get a woman in the White House, but at least Hillary would be competent. That's all intelligent Americans can ask for now.
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Friday, September 24, 2004
It seems like all I shoot these days is the sun setting. And since fotolog is doing its typical unreliable thing and not allowing uploads, I'll post it here. This is from the West Side of Manhattan, around 60th St.
6:38 P.M.
I was heading to what I'm hoping is my last Critical Mass, New York or otherwise. I wasn't really in the mood to go. I've pretty much had it with New York and I'm ready to leave in general. Notice how I say "New York" when I'm living in New Jersey. New Jersey is not even a consideration. It's a nice place to visit a family, but I wouldn't want to live here.
Anyway, I went to Critical Mass telling myself I would leave as soon as I wasn't into it, and that point came about an hour into it when the cops blocked off some streets causing a confusion that sent cyclists into a panic. The ride was peaceful until then and the cops cooperated and even provided corking for the riders, ostensibly to try to better relations and public image after last months' arbitrary military-style crackdown in order to show Republicans that New York's Finest "know" how to handle dissent.
I place the blame for the confusion squarely on the cops and Mayor Bloomberg who has been creating a hostile atmosphere against cyclists and Critical Mass, and all it took was the blocking off of a street for something as benign as traffic control to send a thousand cyclists scrambling. It was fun for the five minutes I zipped through traffic and a parking garage to avoid the pigs, but that's all.
I took off for the riverside path and headed uptown, thinking how civil San Francisco seems compared to New York (knowing full well that it isn't - just smaller), and then to make the San Francisco nostalgia worse, I stopped off at a place called "Burritoville". If that is what New Yorkers consider a burrito, I feel sorry for them. Folks, I know burritos, I've worked with burritos, some of my closest friends are burritos, and that was no burrito.
New Yorkers are so provincial in their cosmopolity. Is that a word? It is now.
6:38 P.M.
I was heading to what I'm hoping is my last Critical Mass, New York or otherwise. I wasn't really in the mood to go. I've pretty much had it with New York and I'm ready to leave in general. Notice how I say "New York" when I'm living in New Jersey. New Jersey is not even a consideration. It's a nice place to visit a family, but I wouldn't want to live here.
Anyway, I went to Critical Mass telling myself I would leave as soon as I wasn't into it, and that point came about an hour into it when the cops blocked off some streets causing a confusion that sent cyclists into a panic. The ride was peaceful until then and the cops cooperated and even provided corking for the riders, ostensibly to try to better relations and public image after last months' arbitrary military-style crackdown in order to show Republicans that New York's Finest "know" how to handle dissent.
I place the blame for the confusion squarely on the cops and Mayor Bloomberg who has been creating a hostile atmosphere against cyclists and Critical Mass, and all it took was the blocking off of a street for something as benign as traffic control to send a thousand cyclists scrambling. It was fun for the five minutes I zipped through traffic and a parking garage to avoid the pigs, but that's all.
I took off for the riverside path and headed uptown, thinking how civil San Francisco seems compared to New York (knowing full well that it isn't - just smaller), and then to make the San Francisco nostalgia worse, I stopped off at a place called "Burritoville". If that is what New Yorkers consider a burrito, I feel sorry for them. Folks, I know burritos, I've worked with burritos, some of my closest friends are burritos, and that was no burrito.
New Yorkers are so provincial in their cosmopolity. Is that a word? It is now.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
KRYPTONITE OFFERS FREE PRODUCT EXCHANGES TO ALL CURRENT OWNERS OF KRYPTONITE TUBULAR CYLINDER LOCKS
If you currently own a Kryptonite tubular cylinder lock and are concerned about the security of this lock, Kryptonite will exchange this lock for you with a comparable non-tubular cylinder lock.
To participate in the exchange program, please send an email to kryptonite@irco.com
You will receive an auto response asking you for information including your name, address and lock type. It will also give you information on exchanging your lock. Kryptonite will pay the postage for all exchanges. Please note that this email address sends an auto response – do not send questions to this email address as it is not monitored. If you have questions, please send an email to locktalk@irco.com
We expect locks to begin shipping in mid-October.
If you currently own a Kryptonite tubular cylinder lock and are concerned about the security of this lock, Kryptonite will exchange this lock for you with a comparable non-tubular cylinder lock.
To participate in the exchange program, please send an email to kryptonite@irco.com
You will receive an auto response asking you for information including your name, address and lock type. It will also give you information on exchanging your lock. Kryptonite will pay the postage for all exchanges. Please note that this email address sends an auto response – do not send questions to this email address as it is not monitored. If you have questions, please send an email to locktalk@irco.com
We expect locks to begin shipping in mid-October.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Wild Horses of Mongolia with Julia Roberts:
I am so impressed with Julia Roberts, I had her totally pegged wrong. Mind you, I can't stand Julia Roberts, the actress. I wanted to see Mona Lisa Smile because Maggie Gyllenhaal *drool* was in it (not to mention Kirsten Dunst *faint*), but then ended up not seeing it because Julia Roberts so supremely annoys me on screen. But I just saw a PBS documentary with Julia Roberts in Mongolia of all places, and it took me a while to realize it was her, and even longer to convince myself it was her until she finally mentioned someone calling her "Julia".
It's hard to imagine a pampered Hollywood big shot star being subjected to the conditions she was, and she handled herself without being jaded, or trying to be witty and flippant (read obnoxious) because of her celebrity. She was very down-to-earth and right in the moment with an open heart and open mind. She was nonplussed upon realizing peeing and pooping take place wherever on the Mongolian plains, she got right into milking mares without embarassing all of America by being squeamish and incompetent, and she was matter-of-fact when she got horse poop on her jeans. It was as unglamorous a gig as any agent could have dished out for her. It was harsh. The living conditions and the climate were all harsh. It wasn't some exotic or cool cred-op to put on her resume.
I felt it showed a lot about her character, I think it was genuine. It wasn't a dare or a self-imposed challenge that she was seeing if she could make it through. She wasn't making the best of a temporary, inconvenient career situation, trying to prove that she could still be down with the ordinary people. She was charming, but only to the people, not to the camera. When it was just her and the camera, she was pretty plain, almost monotone. She genuinely loves horses, it showed that she genuinely loves children, and it looked like she really put herself into the situation without constantly letting it be known that she was an outsider. I think this was the first time I've seen her and thought of her as beautiful.
Of course, just by writing about her in this way shows the different standard to which we contemplate our celebrities. If it was just some ordinary person, I might write about the horses, or Mongolia, but no, here I am writing about Julia Roberts.
I am so impressed with Julia Roberts, I had her totally pegged wrong. Mind you, I can't stand Julia Roberts, the actress. I wanted to see Mona Lisa Smile because Maggie Gyllenhaal *drool* was in it (not to mention Kirsten Dunst *faint*), but then ended up not seeing it because Julia Roberts so supremely annoys me on screen. But I just saw a PBS documentary with Julia Roberts in Mongolia of all places, and it took me a while to realize it was her, and even longer to convince myself it was her until she finally mentioned someone calling her "Julia".
It's hard to imagine a pampered Hollywood big shot star being subjected to the conditions she was, and she handled herself without being jaded, or trying to be witty and flippant (read obnoxious) because of her celebrity. She was very down-to-earth and right in the moment with an open heart and open mind. She was nonplussed upon realizing peeing and pooping take place wherever on the Mongolian plains, she got right into milking mares without embarassing all of America by being squeamish and incompetent, and she was matter-of-fact when she got horse poop on her jeans. It was as unglamorous a gig as any agent could have dished out for her. It was harsh. The living conditions and the climate were all harsh. It wasn't some exotic or cool cred-op to put on her resume.
I felt it showed a lot about her character, I think it was genuine. It wasn't a dare or a self-imposed challenge that she was seeing if she could make it through. She wasn't making the best of a temporary, inconvenient career situation, trying to prove that she could still be down with the ordinary people. She was charming, but only to the people, not to the camera. When it was just her and the camera, she was pretty plain, almost monotone. She genuinely loves horses, it showed that she genuinely loves children, and it looked like she really put herself into the situation without constantly letting it be known that she was an outsider. I think this was the first time I've seen her and thought of her as beautiful.
Of course, just by writing about her in this way shows the different standard to which we contemplate our celebrities. If it was just some ordinary person, I might write about the horses, or Mongolia, but no, here I am writing about Julia Roberts.
Friday, September 17, 2004
I caught a bargain matinee of Garden State today. It had a nice tone to it, I came out with a bland feelgood, but ultimately I was disappointed. It lacked depth and challenge that I thought the characters implied and deserved. It seems the movie was influenced by the likes of "American Beauty" and "Donnie Darko", films with explorative indie material or feels, but having crossover mainstream distribution and appeal. But where "American Beauty" was brilliant, and "Donnie Darko", an after-the-fact success, was incredible except for the time concept which is a fatal flaw in my book, "Garden State" just didn't deliver anything except heart candy.
Perhaps I'm looking too deeply in the metaphor of a character returning home from the City of Angels (leaving a cabinet full of anti-depressants) to the clarity of the Garden (of Eden) State. But in a way that's what the main character did - he ended up back in the Garden, a veritable Heaven of loosely strung together scenarios taking place over four days, all a bit too niiiice, too perfect, too sweet. If you want a good movie story, you need a snake, and there is none. The mother? No, she's dead. The Father? There's no prodigal son story here, the tension between son and father is sub sub-story and the resolution is a total copout. You have a girl with a serious mental impairment, really?! Forget it, there's no snake in this Garden, so much for that thesis.
It was all too contrived, and the characters too one-dimensional for the amount of depth implied they have. The father was a wasted symbol. The motorcycle with the unused sidecar was a wasted symbol - should have been tied to the abyss, something missing or vacant, ie - mom. The abyss was a wasted symbol, thank god, because if it was exploited it would've been obvious. The jobs were wasted symbols. The blending in with the wall was such a waste of a metaphor that it should be a crime since the visual was so good that it was almost a reason to see the film in the first place.
And what the fuck was up with that hotel scene? If that wasn't the very definition of gratuitous sex, I don't know what is. Was it to show how fucked up everything is? No, because nothing is really fucked up, despite the principals' insistence that they are. Whatever the movie did well, it's been done better in other films, and ultimately I just felt manipulated through a cheap string of manufactured moments.
Perhaps I'm looking too deeply in the metaphor of a character returning home from the City of Angels (leaving a cabinet full of anti-depressants) to the clarity of the Garden (of Eden) State. But in a way that's what the main character did - he ended up back in the Garden, a veritable Heaven of loosely strung together scenarios taking place over four days, all a bit too niiiice, too perfect, too sweet. If you want a good movie story, you need a snake, and there is none. The mother? No, she's dead. The Father? There's no prodigal son story here, the tension between son and father is sub sub-story and the resolution is a total copout. You have a girl with a serious mental impairment, really?! Forget it, there's no snake in this Garden, so much for that thesis.
It was all too contrived, and the characters too one-dimensional for the amount of depth implied they have. The father was a wasted symbol. The motorcycle with the unused sidecar was a wasted symbol - should have been tied to the abyss, something missing or vacant, ie - mom. The abyss was a wasted symbol, thank god, because if it was exploited it would've been obvious. The jobs were wasted symbols. The blending in with the wall was such a waste of a metaphor that it should be a crime since the visual was so good that it was almost a reason to see the film in the first place.
And what the fuck was up with that hotel scene? If that wasn't the very definition of gratuitous sex, I don't know what is. Was it to show how fucked up everything is? No, because nothing is really fucked up, despite the principals' insistence that they are. Whatever the movie did well, it's been done better in other films, and ultimately I just felt manipulated through a cheap string of manufactured moments.
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Review/Lovefest: Talking Heads - "The Name of This Band is Talking Heads"
I couldn't wait to get the long-neglected, patiently-awaited, eagerly-anticipated CD release of Talking Heads' "The Name of This Band is Talking Heads" into my grubby little hands. Almost 20 years after the rest of the Talking Heads catalog was committed to CD, I want to say it was worth the wait for all the extra bells and whistles, but why did it take 20 years to get this thing released?!
So far, Talking Heads, with the exception of the vastly expanded and re-mastered re-release of "Stop Making Sense", has not played the silly game, a la David Bowie, of re-releasing their entire catalog every few years, depending on who happens to own the catalog at the time and whatever new technology has drifted down the brook. The first generation Talking Heads releases are still the same releases being sold in stores, often with "Super Saver" stickers on them (check the alliteration, dude). Truth to tell, if what they've done with "TNOTBITH", as it's affectionately called in amateur reviews, is any indication of the potential of what can be done, then their catalogue really needs to be re-mastered and re-released.
In many fan circles, the Tnotbith LP was the live Talking Heads album to have, even over "Stop Making Sense". It traced the band's development and captured subtleties and nuances of their live performances that were all but wiped out in the in-your-face, meticulously staged performances of "Stop Making Sense". Fans pounded their chests and wailed to the night sky, begging divinity for an answer why Tnotbith would not be released on CD.
Finally here, it contains over an hour more material than on the LP. The original 1977-1979 LP of the double-album set actually didn't include any representative performances from 1978. Those have been added on the CD, nestled between the 1977 tracks and 1979 tracks, indicating that Rhino records really put some thought and effort into this. There are also more tracks from 1977 and 1979.
Rhino completely overhauled the 1980-1981 LP for the CD and pieced together the entire setlist from the performances covering those years and placed them in setlist order! Very impressive. For the purists, they included in the liner notes, the track order to program into your CD player if you want to listen to the tracks in the original LP order.
There is a caveat to this release, though. All the extras create a better documentary of Talking Heads live, but it is not necessarily a better album than the LP, on which they were limited by vinyl space and had to choose carefully what went on it. The LP was a concise presentation and had the best performances. The CDs meander and include performances that are a bit lackluster, and in the case of the 1980-1981 CD opener, "Psycho Killer", they even kept in an obvious mistake with one of the guitarists going to the wrong chord in the first chorus.
For a quirky little art-geek outfit, Talking Heads were an artistic powerhouse in the late-70's/early 80's. You can trace their development album to album, each one distinct, each one reaching further until their peak with the "Stop Making Sense" movie. I'm finding I didn't really appreciate them back in the 80's, even though they were one of few 80's acts that I actually liked. Tnotbith has me pulling out my brothers' "Fear of Music" and "More Songs About Buildings and Food" LPs, and I'm being blown away by the creativity and innovation. And Tina Weymouth came up with some of the most incredible "new wave" bass lines, the engineers always did right by her by bumping her forward in the mixes. I don't care if she dressed terribly and danced funny - it was the 80's, everyone dressed terribly and danced funny - and it's not her clothes playing the bass anyway. And she was still cute as a button.
I couldn't wait to get the long-neglected, patiently-awaited, eagerly-anticipated CD release of Talking Heads' "The Name of This Band is Talking Heads" into my grubby little hands. Almost 20 years after the rest of the Talking Heads catalog was committed to CD, I want to say it was worth the wait for all the extra bells and whistles, but why did it take 20 years to get this thing released?!
So far, Talking Heads, with the exception of the vastly expanded and re-mastered re-release of "Stop Making Sense", has not played the silly game, a la David Bowie, of re-releasing their entire catalog every few years, depending on who happens to own the catalog at the time and whatever new technology has drifted down the brook. The first generation Talking Heads releases are still the same releases being sold in stores, often with "Super Saver" stickers on them (check the alliteration, dude). Truth to tell, if what they've done with "TNOTBITH", as it's affectionately called in amateur reviews, is any indication of the potential of what can be done, then their catalogue really needs to be re-mastered and re-released.
In many fan circles, the Tnotbith LP was the live Talking Heads album to have, even over "Stop Making Sense". It traced the band's development and captured subtleties and nuances of their live performances that were all but wiped out in the in-your-face, meticulously staged performances of "Stop Making Sense". Fans pounded their chests and wailed to the night sky, begging divinity for an answer why Tnotbith would not be released on CD.
Finally here, it contains over an hour more material than on the LP. The original 1977-1979 LP of the double-album set actually didn't include any representative performances from 1978. Those have been added on the CD, nestled between the 1977 tracks and 1979 tracks, indicating that Rhino records really put some thought and effort into this. There are also more tracks from 1977 and 1979.
Rhino completely overhauled the 1980-1981 LP for the CD and pieced together the entire setlist from the performances covering those years and placed them in setlist order! Very impressive. For the purists, they included in the liner notes, the track order to program into your CD player if you want to listen to the tracks in the original LP order.
There is a caveat to this release, though. All the extras create a better documentary of Talking Heads live, but it is not necessarily a better album than the LP, on which they were limited by vinyl space and had to choose carefully what went on it. The LP was a concise presentation and had the best performances. The CDs meander and include performances that are a bit lackluster, and in the case of the 1980-1981 CD opener, "Psycho Killer", they even kept in an obvious mistake with one of the guitarists going to the wrong chord in the first chorus.
For a quirky little art-geek outfit, Talking Heads were an artistic powerhouse in the late-70's/early 80's. You can trace their development album to album, each one distinct, each one reaching further until their peak with the "Stop Making Sense" movie. I'm finding I didn't really appreciate them back in the 80's, even though they were one of few 80's acts that I actually liked. Tnotbith has me pulling out my brothers' "Fear of Music" and "More Songs About Buildings and Food" LPs, and I'm being blown away by the creativity and innovation. And Tina Weymouth came up with some of the most incredible "new wave" bass lines, the engineers always did right by her by bumping her forward in the mixes. I don't care if she dressed terribly and danced funny - it was the 80's, everyone dressed terribly and danced funny - and it's not her clothes playing the bass anyway. And she was still cute as a button.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Mark Morford is one of the reasons that SFGate.com is still my opening page on my browser, even having moved from San Francisco. Even if he did call me "bitter and defeatist" in this article. I do have a streak of anarchy in me, and part of me does wonder how badly W. Bush can destroy the U.S., which I'm confident he will continue to do, in all the ways Morford mentions in the article, if re-elected.
Come on, be honest. How many non-Floridians went "aw darn" when Hurricane Ivan cleared west of Florida, avoiding a third direct hit on the nation's wang in a month? People suffer, but they chose to live in a hurricane zone, and they'll survive. Or not. And if they don't, surrounding life will go on. At least it's warm there.
How much suffering does there have to be until there's some awakening, some enlightenment on what's important in life and what our priorities should be? Or just how we act and react in the face of our own adversity. Even someone else's. Alright, I do sympathize for the hurricane victims, and my heart goes out when I see the news reports of people evacuating or who've lost their homes. But another four years of W would require more empathy for the country than I could muster. So let him drill America into the ground until he hits oil. He just might herald the end of America's global corporate reign. Besides, we haven't had a chance to impeach him, which I'm predicting will happen if he's given a second term.
People are looking at me sideways now wondering if I'm secretly going to vote for Bush.
Hardy
Har
Har.
Come on, be honest. How many non-Floridians went "aw darn" when Hurricane Ivan cleared west of Florida, avoiding a third direct hit on the nation's wang in a month? People suffer, but they chose to live in a hurricane zone, and they'll survive. Or not. And if they don't, surrounding life will go on. At least it's warm there.
How much suffering does there have to be until there's some awakening, some enlightenment on what's important in life and what our priorities should be? Or just how we act and react in the face of our own adversity. Even someone else's. Alright, I do sympathize for the hurricane victims, and my heart goes out when I see the news reports of people evacuating or who've lost their homes. But another four years of W would require more empathy for the country than I could muster. So let him drill America into the ground until he hits oil. He just might herald the end of America's global corporate reign. Besides, we haven't had a chance to impeach him, which I'm predicting will happen if he's given a second term.
People are looking at me sideways now wondering if I'm secretly going to vote for Bush.
Hardy
Har
Har.
Monday, September 13, 2004
Ya gotta make do with what ya got. I bemoaned the lack of hills to climb in the area. The hardest climbs in the area are probably the equivalent of riding up from Sausalito to the Golden Gate Bridge. Nothing even matches the East Bay Hills which were no more than a thousand feet of climbing. I asked someone at a bike store about climbs and apparently they do these "sprinter's climbs" that are readily available and they do them over and over again, but it's just not the same as steadily hammering up Mt. Diablo or Mt. Tamalpais or the Santa Cruz range mile after mile. There are no climbs here that really test you.
What I have noticed is that even though my rides barely break 30 miles, they are faster than in the Bay Area because of the lack of climbs. Rides averaging 18mph were raising my eyebrows, since in the Bay Area they averaged 15mph. So I thought OK, I like climbing but there are no climbs here, I suck at sprinting, might as well work on that.
Mind you, riding in New Jersey sucks because of the car culture, but my parents live in a cozy, quiet suburban town, so if I don't leave the town limits, it's pretty peaceful. But it's not a big town. From the far end of the north side of town to the middle is less than 2 and a half miles, and it's not even a mile wide, but there are some natural loops formed by the roads, pretty much all flat. So I went out and just rode these loops over and over again for 20 miles, averaging almost 19mph. It was pretty nifty, if a bit . . . repetitive. Whatever. I think I did the larger loop three times and the smaller loop six times.
It felt kinda "time trial"-ish, but I wasn't even really pushing it. I just went out for a casual ride wearing street clothes and no PowerBars or water. It was cool because I can do that sort of thing without any preparation, or I can prepare and really push it if I want to, or I can just do it really casually and enjoy the rich, conservative, Republican, suburban peace. Yay me.
What I have noticed is that even though my rides barely break 30 miles, they are faster than in the Bay Area because of the lack of climbs. Rides averaging 18mph were raising my eyebrows, since in the Bay Area they averaged 15mph. So I thought OK, I like climbing but there are no climbs here, I suck at sprinting, might as well work on that.
Mind you, riding in New Jersey sucks because of the car culture, but my parents live in a cozy, quiet suburban town, so if I don't leave the town limits, it's pretty peaceful. But it's not a big town. From the far end of the north side of town to the middle is less than 2 and a half miles, and it's not even a mile wide, but there are some natural loops formed by the roads, pretty much all flat. So I went out and just rode these loops over and over again for 20 miles, averaging almost 19mph. It was pretty nifty, if a bit . . . repetitive. Whatever. I think I did the larger loop three times and the smaller loop six times.
It felt kinda "time trial"-ish, but I wasn't even really pushing it. I just went out for a casual ride wearing street clothes and no PowerBars or water. It was cool because I can do that sort of thing without any preparation, or I can prepare and really push it if I want to, or I can just do it really casually and enjoy the rich, conservative, Republican, suburban peace. Yay me.
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Last Monday, I spontaneously decided to double sitting for a week; sort of a sad excuse for a week-intensive that many monasteries undergo every month. To my defense, the type of intensive practice undergone at monasteries is really only possible at my (low) level with the support of a surrounding community. Last Monday, I wasn't able to sit in the morning, so that night I decided to do two sessions to make it up, and that led to deciding to do four 45-minute sessions every day for a week. They consisted of one immediately after waking up, one after lunch in the afternoon, and two at night, separated by a shower or a bite to eat.
The week ended this morning with a single hour and a half sitting, with a pause after 45 minutes to light another stick of incense. Very weirdly, there was a breeze blowing through the window, often threatening to blow out the candle that was lit, but it wasn't until literally right after the session was over that the wind finally blew out the candle cold. Good job.
I know I didn't have much good to say about "Zen Mountain Monastery" in "Mt. Tremper", NY, where I did a "weeklong residential visit" last month (still angling for Google hits), the least of which was their use and mispronounciation of the word sesshin for the weeklong intensive. Sesshin, a Japanese word, is not a specialized, untranslatable word. If they call it "weeklong intensive" or "monthly retreat", you get more of an idea of what it is than if you call it sesshin when you're not Japanese or Japanese-speaking. So to me, it seems they only use it for the exotic factor, a poor reason to practice or train in Buddhism. Even so, many of them (mis)pronounced it like "session". If they're going to mispronounce it closely to an English word, a word which actually would work as a specialized English term to refer to the retreat, they might as well re-term it "Session" (you just have to trust me that they weren't doing this already, they were clearly mispronouncing sesshin, not pronouncing "session").
But I think it was my visit there that did make me think of doing my own version of a weeklong intensive at all. And the work there also has gotten me to make sure I do some sort of housekeeping every day around my parents' house. Nothing major, just 15-30 minutes, sweep out the garage, clean bathrooms at least once a week, anything that can be an assigned task that I focus my mind on.
I like a lot of the theory behind the practice at that monastery, I just wasn't thrilled at the implementation. Along with sitting and work practice, other keystones of their practice include art practice and body practice among other things. I wasn't thrilled that their focus was on exotic Oriental things like Chinese calligraphy and martial arts. But it has made me make sure that I've got music somewhere in my daily schedule as well as riding. It doesn't matter what, really, as long as it involves mindfulness practice.
The week ended this morning with a single hour and a half sitting, with a pause after 45 minutes to light another stick of incense. Very weirdly, there was a breeze blowing through the window, often threatening to blow out the candle that was lit, but it wasn't until literally right after the session was over that the wind finally blew out the candle cold. Good job.
I know I didn't have much good to say about "Zen Mountain Monastery" in "Mt. Tremper", NY, where I did a "weeklong residential visit" last month (still angling for Google hits), the least of which was their use and mispronounciation of the word sesshin for the weeklong intensive. Sesshin, a Japanese word, is not a specialized, untranslatable word. If they call it "weeklong intensive" or "monthly retreat", you get more of an idea of what it is than if you call it sesshin when you're not Japanese or Japanese-speaking. So to me, it seems they only use it for the exotic factor, a poor reason to practice or train in Buddhism. Even so, many of them (mis)pronounced it like "session". If they're going to mispronounce it closely to an English word, a word which actually would work as a specialized English term to refer to the retreat, they might as well re-term it "Session" (you just have to trust me that they weren't doing this already, they were clearly mispronouncing sesshin, not pronouncing "session").
But I think it was my visit there that did make me think of doing my own version of a weeklong intensive at all. And the work there also has gotten me to make sure I do some sort of housekeeping every day around my parents' house. Nothing major, just 15-30 minutes, sweep out the garage, clean bathrooms at least once a week, anything that can be an assigned task that I focus my mind on.
I like a lot of the theory behind the practice at that monastery, I just wasn't thrilled at the implementation. Along with sitting and work practice, other keystones of their practice include art practice and body practice among other things. I wasn't thrilled that their focus was on exotic Oriental things like Chinese calligraphy and martial arts. But it has made me make sure that I've got music somewhere in my daily schedule as well as riding. It doesn't matter what, really, as long as it involves mindfulness practice.
Saturday, September 11, 2004
More Adventurous:
I got a bug in me after I found out that Rilo Kiley's new album was released several weeks ago. I ended up hopping on my bike and riding to Best Buy in New York, on 86th and Lexington. Going there I took the scenic route, 12 miles, but took a more direct route back, 9 miles. Contrast that to where I lived in San Francisco, where a ride to Best Buy was 3/4 of a mile, and are you kidding me? I wouldn't even consider buying a CD at Best Buy. I'd ride the 3 and a half miles to Amoeba. Needless to say, there is nothing like Amoeba around here.
It's a pretty good album. It's par for them. That is to say the best material on the album is probably the best new material I'll hear this year, but the lesser material, like on their previous albums, just don't hit the mark. It remains to be seen whether I'll like this album better than "Execution of All Things". Blake is singing even less on this album, so apparently they haven't found my online advice that they do something ballsy like having an album on which Blake does all the lead vocals. This is despite my loving Jenny Lewis's voice, and Jenny Lewis, and wanting to have like a million of her babies.
So that's too bad. It's the total opposite of Rainer Maria, where the less Kyle Fischer sings, the better. Dude, a cracking voice isn't "character". But I can't cut on peoples' vocal abilities. My vocal range is about five notes, but I end up singing around 27 notes once you factor in the unintended microtones.
Nine miles to Best Buy on the East Side! That's probably closer than either of the Best Buys in Paramus, and is a safer ride since New Jersey drivers are too confounded seeing "bi-cycles" to avoid hitting them or having near-misses. It's just that weird psychological barrier thinking that riding into Manhattan is a big deal and so far. Central Park was closed to cars today, and that made it super nice riding in the park. In general, Central Park is too overwhelming for me to like more than Golden Gate Park, but when there's no car traffic, it's dreamy.
The route I took home was a new one, riding to the north end of Central Park and getting on St. Nicholas which is bike laned all the way up until it hits Broadway right near where I get off anyway to cross the GW Bridge. It's a great route if you don't mind riding through Harlem and Spanish Harlem, and I'm not sure I don't. The bike lanes are almost meaningless, because I don't know what sort of business goes on in those areas, but cars are standing in the bike lane for pretty much the entire stretch.
("don't know what sort of business goes on in those areas", indeed!)
I got a bug in me after I found out that Rilo Kiley's new album was released several weeks ago. I ended up hopping on my bike and riding to Best Buy in New York, on 86th and Lexington. Going there I took the scenic route, 12 miles, but took a more direct route back, 9 miles. Contrast that to where I lived in San Francisco, where a ride to Best Buy was 3/4 of a mile, and are you kidding me? I wouldn't even consider buying a CD at Best Buy. I'd ride the 3 and a half miles to Amoeba. Needless to say, there is nothing like Amoeba around here.
It's a pretty good album. It's par for them. That is to say the best material on the album is probably the best new material I'll hear this year, but the lesser material, like on their previous albums, just don't hit the mark. It remains to be seen whether I'll like this album better than "Execution of All Things". Blake is singing even less on this album, so apparently they haven't found my online advice that they do something ballsy like having an album on which Blake does all the lead vocals. This is despite my loving Jenny Lewis's voice, and Jenny Lewis, and wanting to have like a million of her babies.
So that's too bad. It's the total opposite of Rainer Maria, where the less Kyle Fischer sings, the better. Dude, a cracking voice isn't "character". But I can't cut on peoples' vocal abilities. My vocal range is about five notes, but I end up singing around 27 notes once you factor in the unintended microtones.
Nine miles to Best Buy on the East Side! That's probably closer than either of the Best Buys in Paramus, and is a safer ride since New Jersey drivers are too confounded seeing "bi-cycles" to avoid hitting them or having near-misses. It's just that weird psychological barrier thinking that riding into Manhattan is a big deal and so far. Central Park was closed to cars today, and that made it super nice riding in the park. In general, Central Park is too overwhelming for me to like more than Golden Gate Park, but when there's no car traffic, it's dreamy.
The route I took home was a new one, riding to the north end of Central Park and getting on St. Nicholas which is bike laned all the way up until it hits Broadway right near where I get off anyway to cross the GW Bridge. It's a great route if you don't mind riding through Harlem and Spanish Harlem, and I'm not sure I don't. The bike lanes are almost meaningless, because I don't know what sort of business goes on in those areas, but cars are standing in the bike lane for pretty much the entire stretch.
("don't know what sort of business goes on in those areas", indeed!)
In God we Trust to...
There's a bank in the area called "Wachovia Bank". Whenever I see the bank, I think "just wachova mah money!" I found out today it's pronounced 'wa ko via'. Darn.
And damn it if both Pitchfork and Tiny Mix Tapes let me down in having absolutely zero mention of the new Rilo Kiley album. Haven't they earned their indie-darling status? I can't even get into shows without buying in advance. And me just having put in an Amazon order :(
There's a bank in the area called "Wachovia Bank". Whenever I see the bank, I think "just wachova mah money!" I found out today it's pronounced 'wa ko via'. Darn.
And damn it if both Pitchfork and Tiny Mix Tapes let me down in having absolutely zero mention of the new Rilo Kiley album. Haven't they earned their indie-darling status? I can't even get into shows without buying in advance. And me just having put in an Amazon order :(
Friday, September 10, 2004
Desperate Days:
I watched the Tom Brokaw special on that guy whose hand got caught by a boulder while hiking last year and had to amputate his own arm to survive. I remember that was a pretty unbelievable news item. How psychologically traumatic is that to cut off your own arm? What does it take to envision and execute that kind of separation between the self and a part of the self? In the special, he goes back to where it all happened and basically relives it day by day for Brokaw. I admit it, I get emotional about any aspect of the human experience. I'll get teary over chocolate ice cream if you can relate it to the uniqueness of the human experience. Existence itself, to me, seems such a miracle, a second of which is taken for granted is a shame.
What Aron Ralston went through and did was way out on the fringe of human experience. Even watching him describe what he went through in moment to moment detail, it's impossible to know what he went through. Like it's impossible to empathize what a holocaust victim or survivor went through. Like it's impossible to artificially recreate what it feels like when you hear that someone you know has died. There are extreme human experiences that people get placed in and have to chute through. Aron Ralston wasn't just placed in a situation, but he had to proactively act within it and cut his own arm off!
The elements in his story are just mind-boggling. It was so random, fate so fickle. I kick myself for something as small as losing my keys. Just as small is the decision to go hiking, to go climbing on rocks. What if losing my keys led to agonizing for days whether to cut off my arm with a dull knife, necessitating breaking both wrist bones, or not? It's unthinkable. I lose my keys, I'll look for them, eventually I'll find them, or I won't and I'll replace them. Even when I go out on my bike, I'm constantly hyper-aware of the possibility of getting hit by a car. How about go out on my bike and ending up having to decide to cut my arm off?
I would have taken the easy way out and died in his situation, and missed out on the experience of a lifetime. He said something about rather losing his arm and surviving than not having that experience at all. He's right.
I watched the Tom Brokaw special on that guy whose hand got caught by a boulder while hiking last year and had to amputate his own arm to survive. I remember that was a pretty unbelievable news item. How psychologically traumatic is that to cut off your own arm? What does it take to envision and execute that kind of separation between the self and a part of the self? In the special, he goes back to where it all happened and basically relives it day by day for Brokaw. I admit it, I get emotional about any aspect of the human experience. I'll get teary over chocolate ice cream if you can relate it to the uniqueness of the human experience. Existence itself, to me, seems such a miracle, a second of which is taken for granted is a shame.
What Aron Ralston went through and did was way out on the fringe of human experience. Even watching him describe what he went through in moment to moment detail, it's impossible to know what he went through. Like it's impossible to empathize what a holocaust victim or survivor went through. Like it's impossible to artificially recreate what it feels like when you hear that someone you know has died. There are extreme human experiences that people get placed in and have to chute through. Aron Ralston wasn't just placed in a situation, but he had to proactively act within it and cut his own arm off!
The elements in his story are just mind-boggling. It was so random, fate so fickle. I kick myself for something as small as losing my keys. Just as small is the decision to go hiking, to go climbing on rocks. What if losing my keys led to agonizing for days whether to cut off my arm with a dull knife, necessitating breaking both wrist bones, or not? It's unthinkable. I lose my keys, I'll look for them, eventually I'll find them, or I won't and I'll replace them. Even when I go out on my bike, I'm constantly hyper-aware of the possibility of getting hit by a car. How about go out on my bike and ending up having to decide to cut my arm off?
I would have taken the easy way out and died in his situation, and missed out on the experience of a lifetime. He said something about rather losing his arm and surviving than not having that experience at all. He's right.
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
Holy crap! Talking Heads' other live album, The Name of This Band is Talking Heads has finally been released on CD! I always say it's better than "Stop Making Sense", but then I think for a second and think, 'what the hell am I saying?'. There's no comparison, really, since they are completely different, but the omission of this album from their CD releases has always been inexplicable and warrants immediate, mindless, guiltless purchase. Yay to Pitchfork for giving it a good review.
I think it's time to change the title of this blog, as I'm not watching much of anything these days, and writing even less about what I'm watching to fall under the theme of that Peter Gabriel phrase. Time to peruse PG CD's for another fitting quote.
Although now that I no longer live in San Francisco where NBC is a premium channel, I can finally agree with Delphine on at least one thing, which is that Conan O'Brien is fucking hilarious! He has really come into his own with his own brand of humor. The little skits are still dumb as dubya, but he himself is righteously funny.
I think it's time to change the title of this blog, as I'm not watching much of anything these days, and writing even less about what I'm watching to fall under the theme of that Peter Gabriel phrase. Time to peruse PG CD's for another fitting quote.
Although now that I no longer live in San Francisco where NBC is a premium channel, I can finally agree with Delphine on at least one thing, which is that Conan O'Brien is fucking hilarious! He has really come into his own with his own brand of humor. The little skits are still dumb as dubya, but he himself is righteously funny.
Sunday, September 05, 2004
stalking Calgarians:
I *love* Calgary fotologgers. I swear they're my absolute favorites! There's a bunch of them all like linked together (at least they used to be), and they're just so hilarious, disaffected, self-deprecating, beautiful, and punk:
Ashley
Brittany.
And that Canadian wit - you can never tell if they're being sarcastic or not. Even they can't tell if they're being sarcastic or not.
I wanna move to Canada.
I *love* Calgary fotologgers. I swear they're my absolute favorites! There's a bunch of them all like linked together (at least they used to be), and they're just so hilarious, disaffected, self-deprecating, beautiful, and punk:
Ashley
Brittany.
And that Canadian wit - you can never tell if they're being sarcastic or not. Even they can't tell if they're being sarcastic or not.
I wanna move to Canada.
Pan American:
Man, I finally made it to a show and didn't back out of going, despite being mad expensive and being located way out in Brooklyn. I figured this might be the last time I'd get to see a Panorama Steel Orchestra competition, but that shouldn't have stopped me from backing out. After all, I backed out of seeing the Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra several months ago in San Francisco, even though getting another chance to see them is slim to nil.
So, a little background: the Panorama event is annually held on Labor Day weekend. The Brooklyn Panorama, I think, is second in the world only to the Trinidad Panorama, which is where steel drumming originated. I think the Trinidad Panorama is mostly a Trini event and held during Carnaval in February. The Brooklyn event is centered around the West Indian American Labor Day Carnival, and so has more of a diaspora feel to it. The main figures and the majority might be Trinidadian, but it's a Brooklyn West Indian community event.
Another reason why I didn't think I'd end up going is because I couldn't ride there since the Port Authority bastards close the GW Bridge catwalk from midnight to six in the morning. So I had to ride to the bridge, take a bus across and then take two subways to get to the Brooklyn Museum of Art where Panorama was being held. Mind you, I had to repeat this for the return.
Even after I got there I had qualms about dishing out the $30 to get in, but as I was loitering indecisive by the ticket booth, even though I knew I'd end up paying it, someone came up selling tickets for $25 (he got it in advance), and then I didn't hesitate and went in.
Panorama was so cool, I can't begin to tell you. I was in a little 15-piece ensemble in college, but that was nothing compared to this. Panorama regulations were that bands had to be between 45 and 100 members, and most of the bands that I saw were closer to the 100 than the 45. With 13 bands total, there were pans everywhere, and for easy mobility, most of them were mounted on wheeled racks (nice racks!). In the college band I was in, we had 3 leads (tenors), 3 seconds, 2 cellos, and one set of 6-bass. These orchestras had pans that I didn't know what they were, but I assume they were pans that I'd heard about and never seen, including quads, double-tenors, double seconds, 4-cellos, guitars, engine rooms (rhythm sections) that made our college band look like we didn't have one, and, of course, the awesome 9-basses.
When I first got there, the first of 13 orchestras, Pan Tonic, were off the stage running through their piece, and that was spectacular because the crowd was milling right up around them. The sound was enormous, there was no director or conductor, and there were no lights. It was like the song was counted off and right away 100 people were instantly in a collective groove. The pan player right in front of me had no idea what was happening on the other side of the band, but they were all spot on. That was a cool thing about Panorama, because between orchestras playing their sets on stage, some orchestras setting up for their turns would run through their pieces and that gave people a close-up look at what was going on.
Out of 13 orchestras, I only saw five (four on stage), and three of those bands played the same song, called "War 2004". That song was apparently a favorite this year as two other bands played it after I left. It's OK for orchestras to play the same song because of different arrangements and nuances, but also because Panorama pieces are maximum 10 minutes long, and quite honestly, when you have the bombast of a hundred piece, essentially percussion, ensemble, there's really not a chance of one thing getting so stuck into your head that you're thinking, "oh, it's that song again?!". You just get caught up in the infectious groove of the engine rooms and boogie around the grounds.
It did suck that I had to leave so early, around 11:20, to make sure I caught the last bus back across the GW Bridge. Taking the subway to Brooklyn in the afternoon wasn't so bad because the 'A' train is an express train through most of Manhattan. But at night, it turns into a local train and it goes excrutiatingly slow, stopping every 10 blocks. My stop was 175th St., and by 135th St. you start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. You count only 4 more stops to go, but then they had to stick a stop on 163rd St. between the 155th and 168th St. stops, and I always forget about that one. That extra stop always makes my skin crawl. Insult to injury I tell ya.
I missed the 12:40 A.M. bus by four minutes, and took the very last bus across the bridge at 1:10.
One of the awesome mounted 9-basses of Adlib Steel Orchestra. Five mounted and four on the floor, baby. Each bass pan has 3 notes. This is during their rehearsal run in the parking lot before they went on.
Pan Tonic during their rehearsal run before taking the stage. That's a cellist on the right. In the back is part of the melody section (we called it the "front line"), comprised of tenors (leads), double tenors and seconds. And that dude is drinking a Sprite.
Back view of the engine room of Pan Phonic in the parking lot. Aside from the drumkit, which isn't seen here, the engine room percussion includes congas, various cowbells and bells, you can see a guy with a shaker on the platform, and in the foreground here is the most notable component of the engine room, a row of brake drum (from cars) players. They make a terrific loud clanging and are used more to keep time (16th notes) than for rhythms.
Set of 6-basses in their mounts. Behind it is a set of 9-basses in a different configuration.
Man, I finally made it to a show and didn't back out of going, despite being mad expensive and being located way out in Brooklyn. I figured this might be the last time I'd get to see a Panorama Steel Orchestra competition, but that shouldn't have stopped me from backing out. After all, I backed out of seeing the Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra several months ago in San Francisco, even though getting another chance to see them is slim to nil.
So, a little background: the Panorama event is annually held on Labor Day weekend. The Brooklyn Panorama, I think, is second in the world only to the Trinidad Panorama, which is where steel drumming originated. I think the Trinidad Panorama is mostly a Trini event and held during Carnaval in February. The Brooklyn event is centered around the West Indian American Labor Day Carnival, and so has more of a diaspora feel to it. The main figures and the majority might be Trinidadian, but it's a Brooklyn West Indian community event.
Another reason why I didn't think I'd end up going is because I couldn't ride there since the Port Authority bastards close the GW Bridge catwalk from midnight to six in the morning. So I had to ride to the bridge, take a bus across and then take two subways to get to the Brooklyn Museum of Art where Panorama was being held. Mind you, I had to repeat this for the return.
Even after I got there I had qualms about dishing out the $30 to get in, but as I was loitering indecisive by the ticket booth, even though I knew I'd end up paying it, someone came up selling tickets for $25 (he got it in advance), and then I didn't hesitate and went in.
Panorama was so cool, I can't begin to tell you. I was in a little 15-piece ensemble in college, but that was nothing compared to this. Panorama regulations were that bands had to be between 45 and 100 members, and most of the bands that I saw were closer to the 100 than the 45. With 13 bands total, there were pans everywhere, and for easy mobility, most of them were mounted on wheeled racks (nice racks!). In the college band I was in, we had 3 leads (tenors), 3 seconds, 2 cellos, and one set of 6-bass. These orchestras had pans that I didn't know what they were, but I assume they were pans that I'd heard about and never seen, including quads, double-tenors, double seconds, 4-cellos, guitars, engine rooms (rhythm sections) that made our college band look like we didn't have one, and, of course, the awesome 9-basses.
When I first got there, the first of 13 orchestras, Pan Tonic, were off the stage running through their piece, and that was spectacular because the crowd was milling right up around them. The sound was enormous, there was no director or conductor, and there were no lights. It was like the song was counted off and right away 100 people were instantly in a collective groove. The pan player right in front of me had no idea what was happening on the other side of the band, but they were all spot on. That was a cool thing about Panorama, because between orchestras playing their sets on stage, some orchestras setting up for their turns would run through their pieces and that gave people a close-up look at what was going on.
Out of 13 orchestras, I only saw five (four on stage), and three of those bands played the same song, called "War 2004". That song was apparently a favorite this year as two other bands played it after I left. It's OK for orchestras to play the same song because of different arrangements and nuances, but also because Panorama pieces are maximum 10 minutes long, and quite honestly, when you have the bombast of a hundred piece, essentially percussion, ensemble, there's really not a chance of one thing getting so stuck into your head that you're thinking, "oh, it's that song again?!". You just get caught up in the infectious groove of the engine rooms and boogie around the grounds.
It did suck that I had to leave so early, around 11:20, to make sure I caught the last bus back across the GW Bridge. Taking the subway to Brooklyn in the afternoon wasn't so bad because the 'A' train is an express train through most of Manhattan. But at night, it turns into a local train and it goes excrutiatingly slow, stopping every 10 blocks. My stop was 175th St., and by 135th St. you start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. You count only 4 more stops to go, but then they had to stick a stop on 163rd St. between the 155th and 168th St. stops, and I always forget about that one. That extra stop always makes my skin crawl. Insult to injury I tell ya.
I missed the 12:40 A.M. bus by four minutes, and took the very last bus across the bridge at 1:10.
One of the awesome mounted 9-basses of Adlib Steel Orchestra. Five mounted and four on the floor, baby. Each bass pan has 3 notes. This is during their rehearsal run in the parking lot before they went on.
Pan Tonic during their rehearsal run before taking the stage. That's a cellist on the right. In the back is part of the melody section (we called it the "front line"), comprised of tenors (leads), double tenors and seconds. And that dude is drinking a Sprite.
Back view of the engine room of Pan Phonic in the parking lot. Aside from the drumkit, which isn't seen here, the engine room percussion includes congas, various cowbells and bells, you can see a guy with a shaker on the platform, and in the foreground here is the most notable component of the engine room, a row of brake drum (from cars) players. They make a terrific loud clanging and are used more to keep time (16th notes) than for rhythms.
Set of 6-basses in their mounts. Behind it is a set of 9-basses in a different configuration.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
I tried to go to Manhattan today to see "Metallica: Some Kind of Monster", but I got a flat on the way to the bridge. A big ol' double-prong staple in my back tire. I foolishly pulled it out and *sssssssssssss......*. I had a patch kit with me, but no pump (duh) and no coins for compressed air at a gas station. So I walked it back to my parents' house, a little over a mile, switched bikes and figured I still had time to make it to a theater in Edgewater to catch Hero.
I thought it was really good. Not perfect, but I didn't expect it to be since I wasn't impressed by the fake looking trailers. There was the potential for the story to get really messy, but director Zhang Yimou helped by color coordinating scenes, making it easy to differentiate the stories. Is that what the color was about? The temptation was to look for some meaning behind the color, but until I read something about it, I'm going with the theory that it was just a device for the audience to differentiate the various stories. The various stories being told being the thematic device of the film.
In fact, I think the film is better compared to Rashomon than to "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", which has been the media tendency. But storytelling and subjectivity wasn't the point of this film as it was in "Rashomon". It was more like a game of chess using stories, fine-tuning it to get to a final version where the story is clarified.
I like what Jet Li said about the film regarding heroes, that it would be nice if there weren't any heroes since the existence of heroes of this sort are only made possible because of some great conflict. The existence of heroes means people are suffering, and it would be better if conflicts could be resolved peacefully. Another point that was quick on film was that this emperor was supposed to be a tyrant, even in his own court, but where his wisdom is established and there's an opportunity to show compassion, it's the faceless chant of his courtiers that seem more tyranical.
Point of history that I'm not positive about: I think it was during the Qin (pronounced Chin) dynasty that outsiders came into contact with the land, thus the name "China" was given for the whole country even though it represented only a part of it.
Definitely worth seeing, definitely worth seeing in a theater.
I thought it was really good. Not perfect, but I didn't expect it to be since I wasn't impressed by the fake looking trailers. There was the potential for the story to get really messy, but director Zhang Yimou helped by color coordinating scenes, making it easy to differentiate the stories. Is that what the color was about? The temptation was to look for some meaning behind the color, but until I read something about it, I'm going with the theory that it was just a device for the audience to differentiate the various stories. The various stories being told being the thematic device of the film.
In fact, I think the film is better compared to Rashomon than to "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", which has been the media tendency. But storytelling and subjectivity wasn't the point of this film as it was in "Rashomon". It was more like a game of chess using stories, fine-tuning it to get to a final version where the story is clarified.
I like what Jet Li said about the film regarding heroes, that it would be nice if there weren't any heroes since the existence of heroes of this sort are only made possible because of some great conflict. The existence of heroes means people are suffering, and it would be better if conflicts could be resolved peacefully. Another point that was quick on film was that this emperor was supposed to be a tyrant, even in his own court, but where his wisdom is established and there's an opportunity to show compassion, it's the faceless chant of his courtiers that seem more tyranical.
Point of history that I'm not positive about: I think it was during the Qin (pronounced Chin) dynasty that outsiders came into contact with the land, thus the name "China" was given for the whole country even though it represented only a part of it.
Definitely worth seeing, definitely worth seeing in a theater.
