Tuesday, February 21, 2006

gonzo

Disclaimer:
I don't like cheezy tributes.
I'm not a writer.
I don't think that drug or alcohol references automatically make anything/anyone cool.


Today is the one-year anniversary of the passing of Hunter S. Thompson, commonly referred to as the father of "gonzo journalism". I'm not going to claim that I've known about him forever, and I'm not going to say that I was reading his books and articles "before it was cool". But Hunter is probably the one person who ever made me want to write. Granted, I've always enjoyed reading throughout my life, and I wouldn't classify Hunter's works as the greatest literary works I've read. But what makes his work stand out from the most things I've read is that it really feels like I'm reading Hunter S. Thompson on the page. I don't mean seeing his thoughts, translated into words; I feel like I can see Hunter himself. When he presents his opinions, I don't have to think about phrases and sentences and figure out what he's trying to say; I feel like they're already in my head.

There are many of Hunter's ideas and opinions that I agree with, and there are many that I just don't get. But I do know that I loved reading about his political aspirations, drug-induced memoirs, gambling wins and losses, and his devout love of sports. And even though I'm sure there are many people out there who'll probably try to mimic his style (myself included, at times), there will never be another Hunter.

"Some may never live, but the crazy never die."
-HST

Here's to being crazy.

Friday, February 17, 2006

misplaced apology

Taking a break from all that garbage that I've been writing about this week, I'm going to give Harry Whittington, the object of D-Chen's target practice last weekend, a little shoutout. I read this in the New York Times this morning:

CORPUS CHRISTI, Texas (AP) -- The lawyer shot by Vice President Dick Cheney during a hunting trip was being discharged from a hospital on Friday and told reporters he was sorry for all the trouble Cheney had faced over the past week.

"We all assume certain risks in what we do, in what activities we pursue," Whittington, 78, said as he stood outside the hospital, his face clearly bruised.

"Accidents do and will happen," he said.

Whittington thanked the hospital staff. He also said he was sorry for all the difficulty the vice president and his family had faced. He said the past weekend encompassed "a cloud of misfortune and sadness."

First of all, it wasn't even like this was skilled hunting; these old men were wandering around in a field where slow, dimwitted, flightless birds walk around and bump into each other. If you're going to hunt, go track deer or ducks or something.

Secondly... this dude was shot in the face and chest, and he apologized to the guy that shot him?! If I were in that position, I think I'd be more in the mindset of Jules, from Pulp Fiction: "That ain't right, man. Motherfucker do that to me, he better paralyze my ass, 'cause I'd kill a motherfucker."

I guess Chen-dog is a big fan of Rainier Wolfcastle; he just wanted to go to that Texas ranch, "tear it down, and turn it into a nature reserve where I will hunt the most dangerous game of all...man."

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

love, actually (pt. 2)

Continuing from yesterday's post, I'll continue to dissect this crazy little thing called love with a distinctly different movie than the 1942 classic Casablanca: Kevin Smith's Chasing Amy. It's your typical boy-meets-girl, boy-falls-in-love, boy-finds-out-that-girl-is-gay, boy-professes-love-anyway, girl-falls-in-love-with-boy-anyway, boy-finds-out-he-isn't-girl's-first-heterosexual-experience, boy-can't-deal-with-his-exlesbian-girlfriend-having-slept-with-other-men, boy-says-multiple-hurtful-things, boy-forgets-that-he-loves-girl-for-her-personality-and-not-her-sexual-history, boy-ruins-relationship-with-soulmate story.

In every relationship (well, every relationship that ends), there are five distinct parts: the courtship phase, the newlywed phase, the long haul, the beginning of the end, and the breakup. What I like about CA is the fact that Smith really doesn't glorify most of these scenes. Granted, the whole idea of a lesbian falling in love with a man might be a little outlandish (for any guy but me, anyway). I'll admit that. But Smith's description of the emotional transitions that each character goes through really takes you through the trials that guys and gals experience during a relationship.

When Holden (Ben Affleck) and Alyssa (Joey Lauren Adams) first meet, Holden breaks out cheesy line after cheesy line, and most of them flop horribly. For any guy who's ever tried to win over a girl without booze or rohypnol, this is a situation that is disturbing familiar. Even when you think that she might be sort of into you, trying to carry on a conversation with a girl you're trying to win over is nearly impossible because a) guys are idiots, b) girls are insane, c) you're second guessing everything you're saying to make sure that you're not coming across as an idiot, and d) the girl (she's crazy, remember) is probably trying to act like she's not as interested as she is.

Once their relationship starts, their romance (like most) becomes all-consuming; they're making out all the time, they're forgoing time with everyone else to be with each other... they pretty much forget that the outside world exists. Now, I'm not one to rip into wanting to spend a lot of time with a significant other, and I'm definitely not about to say that having sex all the time is a bad thing. And while I'm sure Kevin Smith isn't a "love-hater", he doesn't hesitate to display the strain that their engrossing relationship has on their outside friendships. Alyssa's close knit circle of friends and co-workers begin to show visible annoyance when she starts hanging out with them less and less (as well as the fact that she's no longer playing for Team Lesbian). Holden's roommate, comic book co-creator and best friend Banky (Jason Lee) even goes so far as to say that their friendship is seriously at risk because of the nonstop attention that he's giving his new girlfriend.
Banky: Everybody has an agenda. Everyone.
Holden: Yourself?
Banky: My agenda is to watch your back.
Holden: To what end?
Banky: To insure that all this time we've spent together, building something, wasn't wasted.
Holden: She's not going to ruin the comic.
Banky: I wasn't talking about the comic.

Because Kevin Smith is like me and doesn't appreciate 3-hour long movies, we don't catch a lot of the "long haul"-phase of their relationship, but we can pretty much assume that's it the same as the newlywed phase, but toned down a bit. Which leads us to... the beginning of the end. Depending on the people involved, this can happen in a variety of ways; one of the relationshipeers (I make up words... so what?) might start to feel inadequate, underappreciated, smothered, or one probably a million other reasons. In CA, the relationship begins to unravel when our hero comes upon a rumor that his "untouched by another man" girl has indeed experimented with heterosexuality in her younger years.

Some people might have found my Casablanca questioning of love and romance overly skewed towards making women the antagonists in relationships. Well, I stand by that opinion, because those are the feelings that dynamics of Rick and Ilsa elicited in me. And now, with Chasing Amy, I'm ready to admit that the demise of the primary relationship in this movie was caused primarily by the guy. When Holden finds out that he isn't the first man to have sex with Alyssa, he starts freaking out, yelling at her, calling her a "whore"; he's out for blood with this breakup. His irrational ranting and raving at her has nothing to do with their current relationship; it's merely a weird and bizarre insecurity inside himself that's made him erupt with an inordinate amount of intense passion. A level of passion which, at the beginning of their relationship, he had used to love her with.

The reason that this breakup scene hurts so much is that, over the course of the movie, Smith shows how well Alyssa and Holden are together. He doesn't just make up some cheesy "love at first sight" garbage, and then force the audience to trust him that they're kindred spirits. He shows them discussing their similar interests. He shows their playful banter with each other. He shows their ability to make fun of each other in a lighthearted way. And then, once they hook up, you see not just that they're intensely attracted to each other physically, but that they genuinely feel more complete when they're together and are in one another's arms.

So... what's the moral of this story? That quality relationships are so hard to come by that the only place a guy can find a quality girlfriend is in the lesbian community? Probably not; I think, in that sense, Smith's just trying to say that finding that you never know where you might find that perfect person... whether its at a comic book convention, Jimmy Buffet concert, at a Fourth of July party, or just walking across a bridge with a corned beef sandwich at 1am. Is the moral that guys are inherently insecure beings who need their egos padded constantly? That's definitely possible, because guys are idiots and as much as we want to be seen as tough guys, it's only to make girls want to be protected by us (if that makes any sense at all).

But I think the main thing that Kevin Smith is trying to say with this movie is that relationships are difficult; as great and happy and comfortable as your partner might make you feel, it still takes a lot of work to keep a relationship healthy and strong. There'll probably be times when one of the partners might not visibly show as much affection as he (i mean, err... he or she) did during the courtship and newlywed phases of the relationship; he (or she) has to remember that although he (or she) might still feel the same way, he (or she) has to work at showing that he (or she) feels the same way. There might be a time when one of the partners feels that she (or he) isn't getting to spend enough time with the other; she (or he) should remember that although her (or his) partner may love her (or him) more than anyone else in the world, the two of them are still individuals, and that the "individual" version of the partner is the person that she initially fell in love with.

Two love analyses, two broken relationships... this is no good.

Stay tuned for Part III, boys and girls... hopefully I can find something good to say about relationships...

-Editor's Note: This sequence of epistles on love is being indefinitely suspended due to... um... not really wanting to do it anymore. However, I will pick it up again if I get positive feedback on the first two entries or an overwhelming bunch of requests for a continuation. Mahalo.

Monday, February 13, 2006

love, actually (but for straight guys)

It's been a while, I know, so in the spirit of the season, I've decided to figure out what "romance" and "love" are all about by studying the definitive source of knowledge for anything worth knowing: cinema. In the words of the great philosophers Kenny, Stan, and Eric, "movies teach us what our parents don't have time to say." So, without further ado, the sources for the four-part discussion:

Casablanca
Chasing Amy
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Swingers

In case you're wondering, these are the four greatest love stories ever to grace the silver screen. I'm sorry, but this is not up for debate. Now, two questions need to be posed:

  • How does the film glorify and idealize romance?
  • How does the film realistically depict modern romance?

Casablanca - The most critically acclaimed of the bunch*. In case you don't know the story, Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) falls in love with the beautiful Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman) while in Paris. When the Germans invade the city, Ilsa disappears without a trace, and Rick ends up avoiding occupation by moving to Casablanca and opening a popular saloon. Years later, as fate would have it, Ilsa and her resistance leader husband Victor Laszlo end up in Casablanca, fleeing the Nazi authorities. They require "letters of transit", and as it turns out, the only person in Casablanca who can provide this escape valve is Monsieur Blaine. Hilarity ensues (in a WWII, tragic romance sort of way).

Rick, being the resistance sympathizer at heart, wants to help the world-reknowned Victor Laszlo escape the clutches of the Nazi Regime and support the resistance. But how can someone be expected to have rational feelings towards the woman who took his heart and smashed it like grape? Yes, in theory, his feelings towards doing what is right should come first and foremost. But for anyone who's ever experienced true romance, the ecstasy that is love and the corresponding devastation that is heartbreak can be so overwhelmingly consuming that anything outside of the sphere of the relationship can seem trivial. So, while I'm usually of the school of thought that genocide = not cool, I can understand why Rick isn't sticking his neck out for these particular people.

Somehow, after dealing with all of this Ilsa-induced drama, Rick comes to his senses and realizes that these Nazi bastards are no good. Even though it pains him to see his ex-girlfriend with another guy (who's not nearly as cool as he is), he decides to give Victor the letters of transit so that he can escape the social oubliette that is Casablanca and continue his resistance efforts throughout the world. Rick formulates an elaborate plan, putting himself at enormous risk, to have Victor and Ilsa avoid the Nazi authorities and fly out of Casablanca when, in typical woman fashion, Ilsa does her best to ruin everything again. She realizes that while she is in love with Victor's efforts towards making the world a better place, she sees Rick as the only man with whom she could spend her life. A mere twenty four hours in the same city as Rick rekindles the fire that warmed her all those nights in Paris years ago. Fortunately (for the free world), Rick realizes that a) Victor must escape Casablanca, and b) Victor had nothing to do with this tangled love triangle and shouldn't have to endure the same heartbreak that he did. So, even knowing how wonderful his own life with Ilsa could be, he forces the love of his life to go on with her new beau for the sake of humanity. Wow.

One of the reasons I love this movie is because Rick's emotions are so easy to empathize with; for the most part, you can realistically see someone coping with love and heartbreak the same way he does. His girlfriend leaves him for no reason; he moves to a warm weather climate, becomes a moderated alcoholic, and lives for one night stands:
Girl: Where were you last night?
Rick: That's so long ago, I don't remember.
Girl: Will I see you tonight?
Rick: I never make plans that far ahead.
When he sees ex-girlfriend for the first time since she dumped him, he stays up until the wee hours of the morning, drinking away his sorrows with whiskey and cursing the fact that he has to see her again. When she tries to reason with him, he responds (granted, he's slightly intoxicated) with no intention other than hurting her: "I heard a story once. As a matter of fact, I've heard a lot of stories in my day. They went along with the sound of a tinny piano playing in the parlor downstairs, 'Mister, I met a man once when I was a kid,' it'd always begin. Huh... I guess neither of our stories was very funny. Tell me, who was it you left me for? Was it Laszlo, or were there others in between? Or aren't you the kind that tells?"

Now, as much as I want to admit that I'm a tough guy who is completely immune to emotions, I'm not. In the end, I sort of wanted the disturbed relationship to work out and for the guy and girl to live happily ever after. And what makes this movie a little distressing is that the two former lovers don't end up together. When the film ends, Rick remains in the North African desert alone, living above a bar, and Ilsa is shoved onto a plane with a man she doesn't love. Does this conclusion mean that romance is a futile waste of effort? that the strength of love is more of an illusion than anything else? that time heals all wounds? or that we're all just better off with a hetero-life mate like Louis Renault (ala Jay and Silent Bob) than worrying about the drama and problems that come with chasing an Ilsa Lund around?

F- the Nazis... I would've taken Ilsa back.


Comments are welcome and appreciated (either on my opinions or my return to blogging in general)

Part II - coming soon...



* "Critical Acclaim" doesn't mean a damn thing to me, since the "Academy" didn't think The Shawshank Redemption could beat out Forrest Gump for Best Picture in '95. Not that FG isn't a great movie; it easily cracks my top ten. But come on... the only reason it won was because baby boomers were able to watch an entertaining movie while reliving the different decades of their youth. And man... Pulp Fiction came out in 1995 too! But I digress...