03.2024 Knife in a ranch bottle

March 31, 2024

Everything and nothing happened this month, it seems. I paid my taxes. I trained for my half-marathon. It got hot and then cold again. I think I learned the origins of Tumblr’s obsession with the Ides of March? Eventful, I guess.

This month’s playlist:

The Before Trilogy

Though I haven’t seen much of his filmography, I’m an appreciator of Richard Linklater’s work. I liked School of Rock, loved Bernie, been meaning to see A Scanner Darkly, and though Boyhood did not resonate with me, I respect the dedication in creating it. And Boyhood--with its choice to simply wait for its actors to age into their roles drawing out production for over a decade--is closely related to my biggest blind spot: The Before Trilogy.

Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, and Before Midnight--each made and set roughly a decade apart following the same characters portrayed by the same actors--were formative films for many of my friends. So a triple feature on a Sunday afternoon seemed to be the perfect opportunity to experience them for the first time. These movies are all walking and talking. In lesser hands, with lesser actors, the afternoon at the movies would have become an afternoon nap. Instead, I spent six hours getting to know a pair of beautiful, messy people. I shared in their love and excitement and wept with their grief and distress. Stunning.

The X-Files & Twin Peaks

I finished both shows this month. Revival seasons included. A months-long endeavor. One ran longer than it should, the other cut short.

I’d seen a good portion of The X-Files before, maybe up to season six? I’ve heard many arguments this is where one should stop. But I wanted to see it through. My enjoyment faded after season eight. But the show had already begun to turn into a parody of itself by season seven and only got worse. The revival was particularly atrocious fanfic. Do not subject yourself to the later seasons like I did. Thankfully, my love for the show and its characters remains intact.

Twin Peaks, on the other hand, was canceled after only two seasons on a brutal cliffhanger. I can’t imagine how devastated the fans were at the time. Fortunately for me, I was able to roll right into the movie and revival. While The X-Files seemed to be obsessed with preserving its formula in later seasons--only becoming more creatively incestuous as a result--Twin Peaks improved by allowing Lynch’s sorcery to evolve it. The two seasons, movie, and revival are distinct but form a cohesive, challenging creative work. Twin Peaks isn’t my favorite series, but I admire it quite a bit.

Poor Things

I used to be a hardcore book before movie guy but two recent experiences changed my mind. One I have already written about with Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep and Blade Runner. An amazing example of one piece of art giving rise to another.

The most recent experience is Poor Things. I decided to read the book after watching the movie because the characters were so charming. The two works’ presentations are different but equally endearing. Reading the book now makes me appreciate the omissions and condensation necessary for film, and the director’s visual choices and additions. It’s like I watched a creatively interpreted abridge version and now I’m reading deeper in the expanded volume.

I think being so staunchly book-first made me approach movie adaptations with a lot of judgment. Now it’s like I’m tasting a sample of a story and can choose to dive into the full course if it’s compelling enough.

Sparrow Solitaire

I first encountered Mahjong Solitaire on my Game Boy. It came on one of the bootleg carts, which were all that were available in Thailand, that claimed “100 games in 1!” but just had the same ten games repeated across ten pages with slightly different names. This version of Mahjong Solitaire did not include a tutorial. I was able to discern that the goal was matching pairs but did not understand why some tiles could be selected and others not. I grew frustrated quickly, the young lad I was, and abandoned it. But the stacks of tiles rendered in 1-bit graphics with dithered shadows clung to my memories and surged to the surface when I saw Sparrow Solitaire for the Playdate.

This version mercifully contains a tutorial and my mature and more patient mind enjoys finding pairs and strategically freeing blocked tiles for future matches. I keep my Playdate at work and Sparrow Solitaire is the perfect mental break. The charming 1-bit graphics and lo-fi music and low-stakes gameplay are soothing and draw me into a meditative state. Lovely.

Little Simz

I was recently recommended the music video for Gorilla by Little Simz. A visual feast I thoroughly enjoyed. And I was quite taken with the music too. I’ve been listening to her albums--all distinct with their unique textures and experimentation--and started a Pandora station which has introduced me to a host of other musicians I’d never heard before. I should watch more music videos. After all, they’re the regular vector for introducing me to my favorite bands.

This month I mainly kept returning to the theatre to watch Dune: Part Two. I got to see it in 70mm IMAX. Hearing the projector whir and be overshadowed by those giant images is something else. I also made an infusion from Blood Oranges, a Blood-cello. Reviews have been good.

02.2024 Worm Boyfriend

February 29, 2024

The world is descending into hell so obviously I’m high on the Spice Melange and escaping into a fictional universe descending into hell. Dune (2021) in IMAX again, revisiting Dune (1984) in theaters, reading the source material: Dune, Dune Messiah, Children of Dune, God Emperor of Dune. I see an earthworm stranded on the pavement after the rain and I cry, "Shai-Hulud!"

This month’s playlist:

Happiness

I stumbled across Shūzō Oshimi’s work via The Flowers of Evil, a very odd and uncomfortable story that is worth the read. Happiness was far more accessible for me and, delightfully, a vampire story that is faithful to the mythology’s original themes. Gore, despair, and body horror. With a smidge of solace in the end.

Suzhou River

This is one of those instances where your cinema bro texts you a name and you just watch it, no questions asked. Not the first first-person-view film I’ve seen (that prize unfortunately goes to Hardcore Henry) but it is the first movie I've experienced where it doesn’t feel like a gimmick. This movie flows. You’re lulled into it like a dream. And when you wake up you’ll have an unquenchable thirst for Żubrówka Bison Grass Vodka.

Odd Taxi

What a surprise. I was expecting a comedy due to all the anthropomorphic animals (conditioned by Bojack Horseman) but got a rather dark crime drama. Very good writing with distinct characters with a unique twist at the end. Excellent single-season series.

Helldivers 2

"I’m doing my part!" I barely dabbled with the original. I appreciated the gameplay and humor of the friendly fire of the initial outing, but it didn’t hold my interest. But the sequel changed that by moving the isometric view to over the shoulder and emphasizing the online co-op. Multiplayer isn’t my bag, especially PvP, but I make an exception for PvE. Squishing bugs and blasting automatons to spread "managed democracy" with internet ranbros is exquisite.

This week I also published a nonfiction piece, and have been making constant Dune jokes online and IRL and people are tired of it.

Squeeze

February 24, 2024

Squeeze.

Papa growled this when I jerked the trigger. Something I was tempted to do when my adolescent arms had tired from the rifle’s weight and the crosshairs were waltzing further and further from the target.

Squeeze.

Exhale and smoothly pull the trigger. This steadies the gun. Jerk the trigger and you are guaranteed to pull your aim to the left or right.

My grandfather loved shooting guns, collecting guns, and making his own ammo. He enjoyed beer, cinema from the 70s and 80s, and a rare steak. He was also a respected orthopedic surgeon and a cattle rancher in retirement.

His gun safe was a secret bunker. Hidden behind shallow cabinets which held the billiard cues. A button concealed in the bookshelf disengaged the magnets and the cabinets swung out as double doors. I’d gaze up at the walls lined with his collection of carefully maintained firearms as Papa crafted .45 ACP rounds for his collection of 1911 pistols and breathe in the scents of oil, leather, lead, and gunpowder.

The majority of these weapons rarely saw violence. Though, there were pieces that had witnessed much. Perpetrated much. Rifles and pistols that served in world wars, Vietnam, Korea. Omens of history. But most only shot paper targets or bottles. That was the extent of their destruction. Their only opportunity to take life was deer season.

I anticipated the day I’d be old enough to hunt with the men. I had spectated many times. Rising before the sun, bundling up warmly, eating an oatmeal cream pie as a snack before breakfast, walking out between the trees to the blind where we’d sit, shivering, waiting for dawn.

I had to content myself with bottles until then. Papa would line them up on the altar (a stout tree stump). I was given a BB gun first, then a .22 long rifle. The calibers grew as I grew. I graduated from the altar to the tank. A pond whose bottom cradled decades of shattered beer bottles. Empties (referring either to the brass of spent rounds or drained bottles, the latter in this case) would be flung into the tank where they would impact with a pa-LUNK and right themselves with only their necks peeking above the surface at 30 to 40 yards. They looked no bigger than match heads.

Squeeze.

It was cold at the blind (a simple pile of logs) and we sat on the dew. I wore sneakers with double socks, long underwear under jeans, several shirts covered by a leather bomber jacket, gloves, and a beanie for my ears. Mist drifted through the clearing as color bled into the monochrome landscape before us. My dad nudged me. A buck had exited the tree line opposite us. Maybe 50 yards away. I brought up my rifle. I breathed deep and slow to calm my racing heart. An out-of-control beat caused me to miss the morning before. As well as an unbidden thought. A question I’d never had the notion to ask in all my years of yearning to be the hunter.

I eased out my breath and squeezed. The buck sprang into the air with a kick--turned with a flash of white and disappeared. It was difficult to tell from our vantage if it had dropped to the ground or fled back into the trees. We waited for the sun to climb higher before leaving the blind to check. And there it was, flopped on the grass. Eight points on his antlers. A small puncture just behind the shoulder. An exit wound in the abdomen covered in bloody foam.

We heard the growl of my great uncle's truck and the purr of Papa‘s mule (a compact utility vehicle). Soon my grandfather, great uncle, father, and uncle were all congratulating me for shooting my first deer. Then they set about teaching me how to field dress it.

They instructed me to cut open its abdomen, anus to sternum, taking care not to pierce any of the entrails. This would spoil the meat. Then cut through the sternum and pull the ribs back to access the chest cavity. Now cut the esophagus as close to the skull as possible. Grasp the esophagus and pull. Pull and pull--your knife following along severing the fascia that holds the organs to the spine--and you pull from the neck to the hind and all that viscera comes out in one heap on the dewy grass and the deer lies shucked.

My uncle collected the liver for dinner that evening. He'd slice it thin, bread it in flour and Zatarain‘s, fry the slices in butter, and serve them in tortillas. He also retrieved the heart and showed it to me. There was a clotted rent where my bullet passed.

I looked at my handiwork. Crimson palms. Entrails steaming. Deer dissected. Soft fur stained. Glassy eyes gazing at heaven. And I thought about the question that came before I squeezed the trigger. Do I want to kill?

Now I knew the answer.

I learned my handshake from Papa. A firm squeeze that said, I see you. I acknowledge your personhood. And imparted a sense of confidence and warmth. You’d receive a variation of that squeeze if you were lucky enough to be holding his hand at the end of grace. Papa also said, Let me give you a squeeze, when he wanted a hug. He’d wrap you up tight. Until it just began to hurt. But you felt the whole of him. Like he was trying to press his heart into yours. There was also the squeeze chute. But that was only for calves when it was time for their ear tags and vaccinations. Rarely, when you were being ornery, he’d drop his big calloused hand on your shoulder and squeeze with so much force it would take your breath away.

My sister and I received a phone call during our last semester in college. Papa had suffered a stroke from a thrown clot and we needed to come say goodbye. We were three hours away. By the time we got to the hospital, he was unconscious and his breath came in unsteady wheezes. Mom told me to speak to him. I held his hand. I told him I loved him. That it was okay to go. My tears painted me a liar.

The only response a squeeze.

A couple years before, at Christmas, Papa plunked a leather bag on my lap and said, I think you’ll put this to better use than I can. Inside was a Leica R3 film camera and a whole set of lenses.

He knew of my interest in digital video and photography. I was as likely seen clutching my Canon T3i camera as a rifle when we were out shooting at the cabin. But I had never tried film photography. I bought a four-pack of Fujifilm Superia 400 at Walmart. Twenty-four exposures each. My first roll was filled with blurry, poorly framed exposures. But I was hooked. The imperfection. The mystery of the end result. The physical ritual. Advancing the film. Turning the aperture ring. Pressing the release and hearing the SLAP of the mirror.

Papa died the winter I was halfway through my first roll of black-and-white film. I shot slowly then. Sometimes weeks or months between frames. I finished the roll in the summer while at the lake with my sister and some friends. I disengaged the advancing mechanism, wound the exposed film back into its canister, and popped open the back of the camera. And there was all the film, unspooled, soaking up light as it saw fit fading all my framed memories to flashes of white.

Memories of Papa.

I’ve never felt so much despair and shame and anger since then. My friends could not console me. My sister had to leave the room. Was it a mechanical error? A blunder of inexperience? The cause made no difference. The last photos of Papa were lost. I lost them.

I put away Papa’s camera for a long time. Too afraid to duplicate that mistake. Unwilling to relive that failure when I looked at it.

Eventually, the emotions dulled enough for me to start shooting on his camera again. I became comfortable with the interplay between iso, aperture, and shutter speed. Unlike digital, iso is a static factor in film photography. Once you load a roll of film of a particular iso speed into the camera, you’re married to it.

The only variables you control to make a proper exposure are aperture and shutter speed. And when the scene is dark and your aperture is as wide as it will go, all that’s left is to make the shutter speed slower and slower. 1/60th of a second. 1/30. 1/15. 1/8. All to sip just a little more light.

But the slower the shutter the more likely you are to introduce motion blur to the image through the unsteadiness of your hands. Jerk the release button and you are guaranteed a smeared ghost of a photo. A murky memory unable to pierce the heart. Instead, it is best to steady yourself, exhale slowly, and squeeze.

01.2024 There’s snow in my boots

January 31, 2024

Felt like I couldn’t get a full head of steam this month. Got interrupted by our annual ’snowcalypse’ mid-way. To its credit, this was a genuine snow and we had a delightful winter wonderland for a couple days. But then it was cold and icy and grimy the rest. Though, it was nice to work remote for over a week. Making coffee, bundling up on the couch, embarking on a much-needed deep clean of the apartment... I have that I-could-have-done-more feeling when I really did-a-lot. My brain needs to shut up.

This month’s playlist:

Runaway Train

I did not get what I expected from Runaway Train. I expected an 80s action flick with a twist of Kurosawa, due to his involvement in the script. I should have known better.

It has the trappings of 80s action (a prison break and an out-of-control train and everyone is sweaty despite it being set in Alaska in the dead of winter) but with the dark existentialism often present in 70s cinema. When the train first emerged from the mist I was struck the same as when the truck roared to life in Sorcerer.

The movie delivers on its violence and adrenalin. But in the next moment, when the shouting stops, in the silence, you hear the throbbing grief of injustice, of stolen life, of the futile desire for something better for the next generation.

Runaway Train’s final image will haunt my imagination.

Nobody Saves the World

Fun to play and the writing is goofy. The constant form changes and mix-n-matching abilities between them are a blast. How all these move sets and passives work together is a testament to the excellent game design. Just the right depth and consistently engaging. The only thing I’m not crazy about is the art style, but that’s mere indifference.

Dune

Second read, this time on tape. Enjoyed the pacing much more when read out loud. Grasped the themes and arc far better. Dune’s universe remains fascinating, as does its themes of battling fate and free will. Light on action, but the long, nuanced dialogue scenes are riveting delivered via audiobook.

Already listened to the sequel, Dune Messiah, and well on my way through Children of Dune. I’m going to be so prepared when Dune: Part Two arrives in March.

Bocchi the Rock!

I’ve been on an anime binge this month. Caught up on Jujutsu Kaisen (had to rewatch S1 too because I forgot most everything) and Demon Slayer. The former was neat, the latter got annoying. But I saw the Bocchi the Rock! tag circulating on Tumblr and decided to check it out.

What a pleasant surprise. I need more slice-of-life in my life. Very funny. Love the experimentation of animation style and medium for comic moments. Ryo is my spirit animal. I need a second season of this.

Khun Narin

Forever grateful to my friend for discovering this cassette tape at our local record store. Been listing the album off and on all last year. It’s been comforting to listen to Northern Thai rock so far away from the villages where I grew up hearing it.

This month I also remembered how much I loved Jujutsu Kaisen’s season one ending and I’m checking out PI.FYI, a brand-new social network. Seems like a fun little experiment.

12.2023 Love and unselfish concern for one another

December 31, 2023

Coasting into the new year glutted on cookies and Mom’s cooking and too many presents. Attempting to enjoy these last few moments of calm and spend my time reflecting this coming first week of 2024. Remember, January is not for jumping into the deep end. Wade into the new year with thoughtfulness. The test run is February.

This month’s playlist:

How Do You Live?

What a banal decision to release this film in the West with the localized name “The Boy and the Heron.” It makes me sick.

How do you live?
A defeated statement in the face of our overwhelmed existence.

How do you live?
A demand to consider your responsibilities to community and ethics.

How do you live?
A desperate cry for guidance.

This is the most visual experimentation I’ve seen from Miyazaki--the loose, smeared chaos of the fire for one example. And the story is fantastical and terse. I feel an ocean beneath its surface and I have yet to plumb it.

I will be asking myself this question come the new year.

Rant: An Oral Biography of Buster Casey

My first Palahniuk. This book starts a little left of center and keeps curving until you wonder how you ended up where you did at the end. You cannot predict the destination. Not even sure what to think of it. All I know is I enjoyed the journey. I love the device of concurrent interviews, like a video documentary. You’re learning just as much about the interviewees as their perception of the protagonist. It’s impossible to divine truth from legend.

Final Fantasy VI

I’ve never played a Final Fantasy. I haven’t played many full fat JRPGs. But I’ve been told this is one of the best. Enjoying the GBA port on my Pocket. Still getting my feet wet.

Chai

I bought their latest album on cassette on a whim last time at the record store. Now I can’t get their exuberant pop songs out of my head. Never listened much to J-pop outside an anime opening or closing song. Interested to see where this will lead.

This month I’ve been resting and eating and not much else. That’s all I care to do. But I am giving my Sigma fp some attention it deserves. Also, you could check out my year in movies.

11.2023 I made this for you

November 30, 2023

Pedal is terribly still to the metal. I won’t see relief until early December. I’ll need to unplug with a vengeance for the new year. The long Thanksgiving holiday has been welcome, but not ideal since I have a deadline hanging over my head. Even so, I’m thankful for good food and good friends. My mac’n’cheese and limoncello have earned me high praise at various friendsgivings.

This month’s playlist:

Alan Wake II

My game of the year. Ever since playing Remedy’s Control, I understood this studio makes video games only for me. Control is the most aesthetically stunning game I have ever played and the narrative is the exact weird I crave. When Remedy announced the were creating a connected universe, and Alan Wake II would be the next entry, I scrambled right up onto the bandwagon.

I played the Alan Wake reissue in preparation. A novel game. Interesting combat, but it quickly became annoying to me because I felt it got in the way of the story which was weird and confusing in the nicest way.

Alan Wake II is a decade long refinement of its predecessor and it shows. The combat keeps the unique flashlight and gunplay mechanic and rebalances it in the spirit of survival-horror games. Enemies are far fewer, far more deadly, and everyone is much more fragile. You’re fighting for your life instead of slogging through yet another endless shooting gallery. The narrative is just as wacky and creepy, but the presentation is in a league of its own--building on the foundation they laid in Control--blurring the lines between cinematic and interactive media.

Characters, characters, characters. Living and distinct. I’d hang out for an eternity with them if I could. Sam Lake and the team at Remedy have perfected their alchemy. Alan Wake a mixture of Twin Peaks and The Twilight Zone, Control a blend of SCP Foundation and The X-Files, and II an unholy chimera of both.

<3 <3 <3

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep & Blade Runner: The Final Cut

I just finished reading Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep and had to revisit the movie adaptation. They are nothing alike.

I do not say this to diminish Blade Runner. It is a cyberpunk masterpiece regardless.   My first experience was the Director’s Cut; this round’s the Final Cut. The visuals are breathtaking. It’s even more apparent how 2049 deftly expanded on the aesthetics and themes established here. But Blade Runner took the barest whiff of inspiration from the novel and ran in a completely different direction.   

Do Androids Dream has none of the rain, or neon, or crime ridden streets. Instead it is set on a depopulated, irradiated, dying earth. A lonely earth. Murder is unheard of because--legally and religiously--all life is considered sacred. Down to the smallest ant. Even a strange VR spiritual movement called Mercerism networks human consciousness through collective suffering to engender empathy for their fellow humans.   But exclusion and isolation are pervasive. One must put on appearances to fit in with society. Specials, those mutated by radiation or simply neurodivergent, are barred from emigrating to the space colonies. The colonies are revealed to be just as desolate as the earth they are urged to leave. Androids are banned from the home world, from autonomy, and from being considered alive.   This is Deckard’s spiritual and emotional torment: retirement has become murder to him. A revelation that isolates him completely from society.   

The film is an aesthetic tour de force. The novel is a distressing rumination on broken and denied connection.

The Last Waltz

A friend of mine has been talking up this Scorsese concert documentary for years. I knew nothing about it. When I asked I’d get,”It’s about The Band’s last show.” And I’d always think,”But which band?”

Now I’m acquainted. I am a fan of The Band. I’m a late bloomer when it comes to appreciating music. My palate is broad. But streaming an album isn’t the best first impression. I’ve bounced off many bands because the record didn’t grab me. Seeing a band live often changes that. Hearing the music on a proper speaker system, seeing the effort and emotion of the artists performing their craft. Music in its true form is a multisensory experience, just like my treasured cinema.

This is what Scorsese accomplishes with The Last Waltz. There are wide shots of the stage and clever camera moves. But his foundation is the extreme closeup of the the artist’s face. So we the audience can see the sweat and passion and be immersed in the experience. I left the theatre with great appreciation of the talent displayed, and thankful that I got to enjoy it with a joyous audience.

A Murder at the End of the World

I will watch anything Zal and Brit put their hands to. Their work has been instrumental in my personal growth. I love their boldness to be strange, to collaborate, and be true.

I’ve only watched a couple episodes of A Murder at the End of the World and it’s proving to be a thrilling murder mystery so far.

This month I finally posted that piece of flash fiction and have been “live tweeting” episodes of Twin Peaks and X-Files and staying up far too late.

Michael

November 4, 2023

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A post shared by Angelina Castillo (@angelinacastillopho)

We didn’t know what to do the last day.

“Beach, beach, beach!”

Our kids didn’t know any better. They meant the lake, a generous classification, which had a sandy shore with a hue and texture closer to dirt. But we went to the “beach.”

The lake was crowded to my surprise. I assumed people would have stayed home. It seemed, like ours, children were the culprit. Though, there were quite a few single adults and couples too.

We lathered the kids up in sunscreen and they ran off screaming to join the other children. Someone brought a keg and was handing out solo cups to anyone who wanted to partake. The only topic us adults could bear to discuss were the kids. So we did. And for a moment it felt like a normal summer weekend.

A murmur percolated along the shore until it reached our group, “It’s time.” We called our kids and toweled them down. We realized we failed to prepare for this moment. People produced safety glasses with cardboard frames that held gray filters. I even saw some welding goggles. A family brought extra and kindly offered to share with us.

“Don’t look up unless you’re wearing your glasses, okay?”

“Okay!”

Chatter resumed for a few minutes. Then the light dimmed dramatically, “Here we go!” We fumbled with our eclipse glasses and hurriedly looked to the sky. The phenomenon would be brief.

A disc of shadow raced toward the radiant orb of the sun. The shadow was many times larger than sol and was unsettlingly quick. In the space of a breath we witnessed two historic astrological events: The most complete total eclipse on record--the corona was barely a hair’s breadth and the earth plunged to twilight--and the last eclipse to be recorded.

The corona increased rapidly and the shadow reduced as if being evaporated. Our light returned.

“Whoa...”

The children began shouting and cheering.

“Wow!” “So coool!” “It was night!”

There was even scattered applause among the adults.

“What did they call it again?”

“It’s called a rouge planet, honey. A planet without a star.”

“No, it’s name!”

“Michael. After the angle.”

“That’s kinda boring.”

I chuckle. The children lose interest and jumble back into the water. Someone hands me another cup of beer. Niceties resume. We know what’s next.

I watch our kids splashing around and begin to fret, ”Do they need to see...should we...“

“I put sleeping pills in their orange juice.”

I look at Sam. Her eyes are red rimmed. Her jaw clenched so hard. I kiss her.

“Thank you.”

Minutes later the kids complain of being tired and we spread the beach towels for them. They’re asleep as soon as they hit the fleece.

The crowd has broken up. Families and couples with their loves; singles circled up in impromptu fellowships. Some brought picnic baskets and bread is broken.

Michael can hardly be seen now. Nothing but a speck against the sun if one could spy it through the eclipse glasses. Then gone.

The sun brightens.

“How much longer?”

“They said about half an hour after.”

She strokes the kids’ hair. I finish the beer. It’s getting uncomfortably bright. I wipe sweat from my brow,”Should have picked a spot in the shade.”

Some families have done just that and relocated under the trees. Others climb into their cars and crank the AC. A few leave altogether.

A distance into the woods--CRACK!--a few dreadful but predictable seconds later--CRACK!

Sam squeezes my hand. It’s never been so bright. I put on the eclipse glasses, my sunglasses over them, and pull my hat low.

“Hottest summer on record.”

Sam snorts.

The lake begins to steam, then boil.

The children sleep.

When I scrolled across this photoset by Angelina Castillo, I thought to myself, “spectating the apocalypse.” Then I sat down and wrote this and neglected my other work. Thanks for the evocative imagery.

10.2023 Punkin_Patch_v2.0.23

October 31, 2023

I feel like a leaf blown about by the chill autumn wind. A relentless procession of incidents: work events, birthdays, a wedding, camping, parties, gatherings. Little time left for inessential things like chores or artistic pursuits.

It’s the season to let off the gas. Collect myself and come to a full stop for the end of year holidays. Let’s refocus on the essentials and rest.

This month’s playlist:

Arrival

Two movies made me weep this month for opposing, inextricably linked themes. Killers of the Flower Moon and Arrival. Mankind’s terrible indifference and the Creator’s terrible love.

Arrival is a treasured film of mine. I was worried that it would lose impact on second viewing -- certainly I would receive it differently, much like Alien which I saw again earlier in the month. But Arrival’s themes have only become more potent to me. My eyes were damp throughout.

Chasing a film lauding the value of even the briefest life with the callousness found in Killers of the Flower Moon was catastrophic. I was despondent the rest of the night.

Twin Peaks

Second attempt. Now that I’ve seen more of Lynch, I think I better understand his work. I appreciate the operatic performances more, odd/silly narrative beats (assassinating a bird!?) paired with serious/sinister subject matter, and entertaining dialogue. If a character is sad, Lynch wants them to be grief stricken. If a character is mad, they should be enraged. If they’re jealous, they should be murderous. Emotional maximalism.

Zipper

This is my favorite game on the Playdate. It’s perfect. The art style is impeccable and nostalgic. The gameplay is a joy to discover and master. Captures the feel of samurai films, that power fantasy and vulnerability, and funnels it into turn-based strategy. Infatuated.

This month I also shared some zoo photos (just not here yet), I cracked opened Alan Wake II and can feel it will be my game of the year, and enjoyed Joe Pera’s cozy comedy special.

09.2023 Friedkin Fall

September 30, 2023

It actually cooled off. Fall is nigh. I must prepare to mourn the end of shorts and flip-flops season.

I also turned 32. I celebrated with copious drinking and dragged my friends to see the new Komodo dragon exhibit at the zoo (largest in the Americas!). The day was well observed.

This month’s playlist:

Sorcerer

The name William Friedkin meant nothing to me last month. Now his work possesses my thoughts. A friend commented that this director likes mean endings. Perfect analysis. Friedkin tells cynical stories led by loathsome characters surrounded by worse miscreants. And the conclusion never brings relief for the protagonist. Their best hope is a merciful bullet through the head.

Sorcerer was my first exposure and remains my favorite. The French Connection and To Live and Die in LA are amazing. Sorcerer is special. I want to write stories how this looks. Spare, concise visuals that speak louder than a line of dialogue. Tight editing. Naturalistic camera work. It’s just incredible.

Pokémon FireRed Version

My game was Crystal. Never played generation I or III. Just Crystal. Never beat the Elite Four either. I’d just play until I got bored and start over.

Now that I have the Analogue Pocket and was gifted carts for Crystal and the GBA remake of Red, I felt it was time to face the Elite Four once and for all. I started with FireRed because I was curious about the original game, but not curious enough to revisit it without the quality of life updates that came with the GBA version. It’s been fun. It’s pokémon.

The Elite Four is beaten (as is that bozo, Gary) and I managed to catch Mewtwo with only two Ultra Balls? But I’m itching to start Crystal. That cart looks so cool plugged into my Pocket.

Berserk

I still haven’t finished reading the incomplete manga. I may once I complete the original anime series. The animation, specifically the fights, are not as impressive as I anticipated. This series focuses on arguably the more important aspect of the manga: betrayal. I have not witnessed a greater one than depicted in this manga. I’m curious how it will hit in the anime. My heart breaks for Casca and Guts.

The King in Yellow

I have not listened to a better audiobook. The narrator’s voice was perfect this collection of short stories. I felt I was listening to a lost radio program of supernatural fiction and tragic romance. True Detective introduced me to the iconography of Carcosa and the Yellow King. It piqued my interest when I learned Lovecraft drew some inspiration from the author’s work. But years passed and it took an instagram story praising the audiobook to put it back on my radar.

I loved the eerie shorts all somehow invaded by a mysterious printed play. Its words pervading the popular culture yet selectively cursing an unfortunate few with madness or death. Little is explained. The imagination is left to play.

I also enjoyed the romances. Full of yearning and disappointment. But I wish the author revisited the Yellow King in his later work. What other horrors would he have wrought?

This month I also posted some more photos and wrote a piece of flash fiction I’m not ready to share yet. But a friend of mine keeps sending me published pieces and they’re straight bangers.

A roll of Tri-X 400 in Nashville, TN

September 4, 2023

The XA1 plus black and white is a winning combo. A roll of straight bangers. Reinvigorated my desire to explore downtown.

Shot on the Olympus XA1 with Kodak Tri-X 400.

08.2023 Golden Chunks

August 31, 2023

Nothing new. It’s hot. Spending a lot of time on photography. I made marmalade from scratch. I was excommunicated from a friend group for saying spaghetti is an abomination and linguine is the superior pasta shape. Seeking higher-minded individuals.

This month’s playlist:

Oldboy

The 2003 film received a 4K remaster this year and blessedly was released back to theaters. I can’t remember when I first watched it -- I’m certain it was on a laptop. This did not diminish the experience. But I was thrilled to see it on the big screen.

I picked up so much more on the second viewing. I also prepared myself to not be as enamored by the twist. But that was unnecessary. It did not surprise me, obviously, but the moment is so well crafted it still hit me with full force.

See Oldboy in theaters while you can.

Honorable mentions to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem (animation renaissance in full swing), Oppenheimer (gorgeous on 70mm but should be just as affecting on a smaller screen), and Tokyo Pop (fun and very cute).

Dragon Ball Z

This is where they begin the power climb in earnest. Planet breaking fights. Several “oh, shit!” moments when true strength is revealed. The final arc, Buu saga, is definitely the best paced. Constantly morphing and subverting the established path to victory which satisfyingly required Goku to call on the power of others to triumph. Great series finale.

Frieza is still my favorite villain. Best design.

At its core, DBZ is still Loony Toons: martial arts edition.

The Legend of Grimrock

I haven’t been gaming much as of late (That’s going to change because I just received my Analogue Pocket). But I have been fiddling with Legend of Grimrock. A first-person dungeon crawler throwback, it claims. I wouldn’t know. It’s the first of this genre I’ve played. The gameplay is methodical and thoughtful, midway between turn-based and real-time. Exploring dark corridors, managing my supply of torches, fighting skeletons. Surprisingly calm and chill. Feels pure compared to the massive, complex experiences being released lately.

One-Punch Man

I’ve seen the anime. Season one was a spectacular showcase of animation prowess. Season two...significantly less so. I wanted more so I finally began reading the manga.

There are two versions: the original web comic (rough, cartoonish presentation) and the official manga remake (polished and impeccably detailed). I have been reading the later. One-Punch Man may be a parody of a genre DBZ exemplifies but its art style isn’t part of the joke. The talent and production value that goes into these panels exceeds those of manga trying to affect a serious tone.

And One-Punch Man isn’t one note. While a parody of the shōnen genre, its also an incredibly well written shōnen with excellent characters to boot. Exciting to look at, interesting to read, and flawless comedic timing.

This month I also shared some neglected rolls of film and enjoyed reading some wisdom on writer’s block.

A roll of Provia 100F in Nashville, TN

August 21, 2023

A first for me. I’ve only sampled a few slide films. Ektachrome underwhelms me (should give it another go) and Velvia enthralls me (should post those photos here). As a Fuji fan, Provia naturally interested me. I like the results. Tamer than Velvia but with more personality than Ektachrome.

Attempted some flash photography on this roll. Nothing worth sharing, but encouraged the setup works. Will be practicing more.

Shot on the Leica R3 with Fujifilm Provia 100F

A roll of Portra 400 in Austin, TX

August 9, 2023

Oops, a roll forgotten and rediscovered months later. A brief hike around an Austin Texas trail amidst the new year. More Olympus XA1 portrait goodness. Check out the rolls of Ektar and Tri-X.

Bonus shot of my sister’s cat, Moko.

Shot on the Olympus XA1 with Kodak Portra 400.

07.2023 Commodified Cinematic Universe

July 31, 2023

I don’t have much to say about July. Happy birthday, Adrian. I’m glad I didn’t buy you DVDs you already own for once.

This month’s playlist:

Inscyption

It is impossible to praise Inscrytion fully without spoiling the experience. Great gameplay (I’m not even a fan of digital deck-building games), original visuals, and a mysterious, shapeshifting narrative that demanded I see it through. The most satisfying gaming experience I’ve had this year.

Gave me the bug to revisit Doki Doki Literature Club. There’s a spiritual tether there.

Seinfeld

The OG. I finally watched through the entire series for the first time. Seinfeld permeated my childhood. Mom and Dad were fans. They tucked references into everything. The child-safe swear? “Newman!” What are we having for dinner tonight? “The Big Salad.” It was a delight to discover so many origins from my family’s lexicon -- most of which I was oblivious.

This run has ruined my appreciation for sitcoms I’ve enjoyed in the past. They are feeble imitations.

Maybe the greatest series finale of all time?

Claymore

I believe this was one of the first manga I ever read. But I never finished it. So I picked it back up from the beginning. Love the dark fantasy setting, exciting combat illustrations, and the often disturbing creature design. But the narrative is sparse and characterization frail. It doesn’t have much emotional punch when I feel it should.

I’m going to see it through to the end. The aesthetic carries it.

Johnny Mnemonic in Black and White

I’ve been aware of this movie for years. It became a priority when I learned a black-and-white version was released. To properly render a film in black and white, you cannot simply turn off the saturation. You must light specifically for it (see Guillermo del Toro’s Nightmare Alley: Vision in Darkness and Light) or spend great care on a new color grade (see George Miller’s Mad Max: Fury Road Black & Chrome). I was curious to see if this mid-90s cyberpunk rerelease was merely a gimmick.

It’s not a gimmick.

It’s elevated.

Johnny Mnemonic recast in silver and onyx could be mistaken for some lost 1960s sci-fi film. A feature-length episode of The Twilight Zone. The narrative is your standard 90s sci-fi Hollywood fare, but the new visuals impart a level of prestige that I did not expect. I looked up a few clips from the theatrical release and... I will be watching it in color, ever. Black and white is the only edition that exists for me.

Other notable mentions: Zardoz, The Host (long overdue), The Raid (long overdue), and the Ken movie.

Update: this discussion between the director, Keanu, and William Gibson about the production and rerelease of Johnny Mnemonic is a delight. The godfather of cyberpunk wearing airpods 🤌.

This month I finally scanned my backlog of film (yet to post any of it!), rediscovered Cherry Glazerr (they have a song about grilled cheese that’s somehow horny), and read a disturbing report about the U.S. government planting cyanide bombs out in the countryside that you can just stumble across and if they detonate you die a slow painful death??

6.2023 I'd like it Thai hot

June 30, 2023

Finally got hit with the double whammy of irresponsible heat and unreasonable humidity. There’s nothing like stepping outside and into the embrace of a steamed moist towelette.

Despite the summer tribulation, June was mercifully slower-paced. The only major disrupter was when I was gifted an old pair of cabinet speakers. Realistics from the 1970s. I found a good receiver for cheap and spent much of my free time rewiring my media center. These speakers sound incredible. So incredible they revealed how garbage my turntable and tape deck are. One upgrade leads to another.

This month’s playlist:

The Holy Mountain

I saw several good films and a couple great ones: Past Lives (true art) and Across the Spider-Verse (true animation). But The Holy Mountain sticks out because I think it is the first true avant-garde/surrealist movie I’ve ever watched.

I have watched a few Lynch movies, but Lynch is unique in my mind. The only reason I heard of Alejandro Jodorowsky is because of the documentary of his Dune adaptation that never was. So I went into The Holy Mountain blind on his name alone.

What followed was 114 minutes of being shown the last thing I expected, scene after scene. The movie is highly symbolic with pop imagery that seems trite. But this imagery is quickly inverted. Or mocked. As soon as I thought I grasped a theme, it would be subverted.

Jodorowsky refuses to let us put anything in our neat little boxes. If there’s an interpretation, it lies with Jodorowsky alone. And I admire him for that. Even if The Holy Mountain is devoid of meaning (doubtful), it is a visual treat with fantastic, strange imagery.

The Bear

I continue to have a million little nitpicks with this series. But the strength of the writing and acting overwhelms everything. This is what prestige tv is supposed to be.

Season two bravely changes pace because the story necessitates it — The Beef is dead. A lesser show would just shovel what worked last time into the willing mouths of the audience. The characters grow, truly. Relationships improve.

The Bear doesn't abandon its hallmark cacophonous, chaotic scenes. Conflict abounds—situational and interpersonal. But informed logically by the narrative and characters. Old ground is not retread in old ways.

Season two is a subtle inversion of season one. Characters rise and fall in unexpected but earned ways. And the season culminates in corporate success and a personal implosion in brilliant contrast to the last.

I admire this season so much.

Ratchet & Clank: Rift Apart

3D platformers are comfort food to me. What I would give for a new Sly Cooper. This new Ratchet hits the spot in Sly’s absence.

Insomniac officially hit a level of graphical fidelity where Rift Apart is essentially a playable CGI movie. If you saw this on a theatre screen, you would assume it was an Illumination or Dreamworks production.

Lovely worlds to explore, fun combat, and just the right amount of challenge that gameplay feels breezy but not cheap. Having a good time.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

I borrowed this blind based on my sister’s recommendation of “it’s good y’all.” Paraphrasing. She has good taste, even when the something isn’t for me.

TTT is not something I would have picked up on my own. Not fantastical enough in premise. But these characters are alive. I love them. Gabrielle Zevin’s writing of their interactions, how they process the world, and their emotions is fantastic. How she flows from plot, introspection, and memory is effortless. I understand each character’s point of view. And I grieve how these relationships break down over the unsaid and assumed.

I am learning so much about how to write a character’s inner world—characters that can be known. I am learning so much about relationships. I love learning this way.

This month I also experimented with flash photography on my digital and film cameras. But I haven’t edited or scanned anything yet. I have like four rolls of unscanned film.

05.2023 It’s not a meal without rice

May 31, 2023

Work was a relentlessly wound spring that finally released mid-month, just in time to host visiting parents. Glad to spend a week of vacation with them. But it’s difficult to fully rest when completely off your normal schedule and rhythms. And I didn’t even take a breath once we said our goodbyes because I learned there was a Thai/Lao new year festival within driving distance and had to attend (i.e. gorge myself on sticky rice, moo ping, khao piak, and other sorely missed dishes).

So I returned to work just as worn out when I left it.

This month’s playlist:

The Sting

I only watched three movies in May. 2001: A Space Odyssey. Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania. The Sting. One is seminal. One I’ve already forgotten. And one is warm nostalgia.

The Sting was one of a few dozen VHS tapes that came with us to Thailand and all we had to watch in English for several years. I loved the cream dust cover depicting Robert Redford with his arm draped around Paul Newman’s shoulders while he lights a cigar with a dollar bill. I don’t remember if mold got to the tape or if we wore it out with repeat viewings. Many of our VHS met that fate before we upgraded to VCD — later DVD.

I was overjoyed to see it again a decade and change later on the big screen at a movie theater. It was even sweeter that I got to share that experience with my parents. Funny. Tense. Satisfying conclusion. You want to hang out with these scoundrels even if they’ll pick your pocket the first chance they get.

Succession

I’m glad I no longer have to listen to wall street gobbledygook like “upside” or “headwinds” or other made-up words Kendall Roy spits up. But I will miss this family of goblins and the disgusting brothers and some of the best writing committed to screen. This is prestige tv. A valuable time investment. Most other series are just a box of slime puppies.

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

I have played two Zelda games and finished only one. My experience with this franchise is not broad, but I have fond Game Boy memories. I tried Breath of the Wild (BOTW) a few years ago and bounced right off it. I wasn’t in the mood.

Its direct sequel released and I figured I’d give it another go. BOTW is the most pleasant open-world game I’ve ever played. Following the good advice of a friend, I turned on “Pro” mode which hides most of the HUD — specifically, the mini-map. Riding my horse across Hyrule following directions gleaned from NPCs is sublime. It’s too easy to glue your eyes to a mini-map and follow it like a GPS, beelining from objective to objective with growing impatience. The game becomes a chore. Exploration — a waste of time.

I don’t feel rushed in BOTW. The situation is dire, but not urgent. The game’s NPCs actively tell Link to slow down and prepare properly and offer locations to visit by describing obvious landmarks you can see on horseback, not just on a map. This doesn’t feel like the Zelda I’m familiar with. But it is an interesting evolution for the franchise, and an improvement for the open-world genre overall.

This month I also shared more photos taken in Austin and read a couple interesting articles: an essay on evangelicalism and an investigation of the working conditions of Lost’s writers' room.

A roll of Tri-X 400 in Austin, TX

May 22, 2023

It’s hard to describe. Black and white photography is simply a different beast compared to color. Striping away the complex variable of hue is freeing. Your eye changes. All it sees are compositions and textures.

I’ve also noticed that I prefer shooting portrait on my XA, lol. Check out part one and three of Austin on film.

Shot on the Olympus XA1 with Kodak Tri-X 400.

04.2023 I am a tomb

April 30, 2023

Spring has finally arrived which means one thing: bike season. Brisk rides in the crisp morning air with an espresso and pastry at the finish line. Healing. Throw in a little journaling and reading — you already have a perfect weekend. I also have an experimental Spring-cello brewing and finally submitted a feature script to AFF like I’ve been threatening to for years.

This month’s playlist:

The Last of Us

This is a good show. Pedro is a good Joel. Bella is a great Ellie. Faithful where necessary and expounds when appropriate. A well done adaptation.

Where it falls short is simply the restrictions of the medium.

What made the game special was You. You became Joel. You try to save Sarah. You fail. You shoot the gun. You stab the knife. You murder.

And you lie to Ellie.

And you see in her eyes that she knows.

She knows.

The show reached similar highs to the game. It brought me to tears on occasion. But I can't tell if that was with its own power, or if it was simply riding the coattails of my memories playing that masterpiece of a video game.

Barry Lyndon

Kubrick’s follow up to A Clockwork Orange has been on my watchlist for years and it did not disappoint. 100% of that interest was motivated by the lens they stole from NASA to film the candlelit scenes on 35mm. The movie is gorgeous — painterly. And a deeply comedic satire. While this is the goofiest cast of characters I’ve ever met, they also got me misty-eyed during a truly tragic moment.

Glad I was able to experience it projected on 35mm film.

Meet Your Maker

I’m a solo player. I want a linear narrative. I don’t want to play with other people. I definitely don’t want to build anything. Meet Your Maker is the exception. Raiding other player-made bases is fun. Building bases for other players to raid is fun. Heck, it’s even more fun co-op. I never expected an online-only game to hook me this hard.

Having a blast and falling asleep thinking about new base builds.

Chainsaw Man

As I’ve written before, Chainsaw Man is great. Another season of anime is a long way off. But the new manga arc is ongoing. Tatsuki Fujimoto tactfully shrunk the stakes following the climax of the previous arc and introduced a new protagonist set on a collision course with Denji. It’s exciting, silly, goreful, and I can’t wait to see where it goes.

This month I also published photos of my first concept shoot and wrote a bit about how much I enjoy making animated gifs.

Caroline's concept shoot

April 10, 2023

When Caroline asked if I wanted to do a concept shoot with her, my response was: wtf is a concept shoot. I’m most comfortable in documentary/journalistic photography. I have no idea what to do with a model. But Caroline was patient. We had a fun time.

Digital on Sigma fp with Summicron-R 90mm, Elmarit-R 28mm, and Sigma 45mm ƒ2.8 DG DN.

03.2023 Eh, could've done without

March 31, 2023

March was a mixed bag. Some highs, mostly lows. Ironically, the most exciting event this month was my friends moving away. They’ve been planning to move overseas since 2019 and were delayed for obvious reasons. Suddenly, last month, they had an opportunity to begin part of the moving process. Somehow they managed to pack up, sell their house, and ship their car in a few weeks. It is a bummer to see them go. But I’m more excited that they get to begin this journey.

This month’s playlist:

Tampopo

Not one, but two friends told me I needed to see Tampopo. And I ignored them. Until my local theatre screened it. I’m glad saw it on the big screen with a packed audience. From its fourth wall breaking opening scene that welcomed us to the movies and threatened bodily harm for being too noisy, its obvious Tampopo was designed to be enjoyed collectively.

It was a beautiful night. A celebration of film, of food, of life. Silly, playful, and a little poignant.

Party Down

Another ubiquitous recommendation that I resisted. Party Down is one of the rare shows that somehow improves with each episode. It begins funny and ends hilarious. Amazing writers, amazing actors.

Ghostwire: Tokyo

I’ve only begun this adventure. But wandering the streets of contemporary Tokyo after a pagan rapture and fighting off malicious yokai and urban legends rules.

The Dark Forest

I don’t think I would have gotten through this without an audiobook. I’m not sure how I got through The Three-Body Problem reading it plain. Liu Cixin’s writing seems to meander — a lot. It’s tedious. Even though I see the purpose it serves. He’s taking us on a journey, attempting to bring humanity and emotion into the hard science of his sci-fi epics. And it hit home for me at one particular moment in the narrative. I guess that justifies the tedium.

If the first half to two-thirds of The Dark Forest were a slog, the back portion is not. The revelations and concepts being clicked into place come hard and fast and leave you awed at the implications. It left me hungry for more so I barreled right into Death’s End.

This month I also finally published a roll of film I’ve been trying to scan for months. And ran across a neat article about the first human-captured color photos of earth that convinced NASA to make photography a priority.