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August 29, 2002
Sex and the City...is Crap.
Thursday, August 29, 2002
I wrote this screed yesterday, but couldn't figure out how to get my web site to flip my home page. I guess it hated me, but it's happy now. So, we proceed:
I just made a mistake. I sat down and watched three hours of Sex and the City. You know, the "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" HBO miniseries that's ever so trendy and speaks so much to the heart of modern single people.
My failure to relate to this television program is so profound and deep, I felt the need to write a rebuttal. It's just so wrong, the way people think about each other.
Now, your first thought might be "Hey, Lee? What the heck were you doing watching that TV show? You might note that you're not a member of the target audience." Well, you're right. This is one of the discs I won last Halloween at the costume party, and there's something wrong about having a video on your shelf that you have never watched. Call it a pet peeve.
I should have been outside changing my tire (which is flat), but it's hot out there! So I popped this disc in the player, and was treated to three hours of neuroses and overgeneralizations. Now, normally, I'd be able to laugh, because at times it's pretty funny. I thought, however, that underneath the clever writing and the good jokes, there were some really unfortunate preconceptions about what's going on in the heads of the not-so-fairer sex (that is, mine).
Let me preface. I'm a big believer in the Principle of Mediocrity. Since Copernicus decided that the earth was in fact one of several planets revolving around the Sun, humanity has been forced to confront the possibility that we are not unique. We may be one of many intelligent life forms living on a none-too-special planet circling a dime-a-dozen sun. If you change this idea from an observation about the universe to an observation about individual humans, it starts to look like this:
"My viewpoint, although it is unique in the fact that it is mine, is not peculiar to me. There are in all likelihood many people who think the way I do."
The thing is, my viewpoint is not traditional. I think that men are no different from women.
Now, OK, everybody settle down a minute. If I wanted to phrase that less confrontationally, I'd say that the differences between individual humans are far more significant than the differences between statistical groups of men vs. women. Gender roles are, to my way of thinking, shortcuts to sloppy thinking. Why are all men assumed to be afraid of commitment? Why are all women assumed to be incomplete without a boyfriend/husband? Why is a guy who has a lot of women a stud, and a woman with a lot of guys a slut? And who the HELL decided that single people were some sort of sub-human mutant strain, doomed forever to loneliness and misery? Don't even get me started on THAT.
Yes, it's easy to understand the evolutionary imperatives behind some of these preconceptions. If you're trying to increase your species' population, a male impregnating many females is an advantageous position. Females choosing the most powerful man as their mate are likely to have stronger children.
But, in case we hadn't noticed, evolutionary imperatives are not exactly important to our future development. We have so much power to change ourselves, we have no need whatever for nature to take its course and change us.
Of course, that means it is incumbent upon us to pay attention to the world around us, and adapt our thinking accordingly. Does that sound like I'm advocating a realignment of traditional gender roles? Well, insofar as they exist any more at all (which I contest), you betcha.
I think, however, that there are two sorts of people. Since the TV show I'm ranting about is all about dating, I'll confine my observations to that little portion of interactions. The two sorts of people are: Those who know what they want, and those who do not know what they want.
The thing that gets me is that the women on this TV show say they want a sensitive, kind, caring man who can connect with them emotionally. When they get said "sensitive" man, they drop him like a hot rock telling themselves all sorts of ridiculous stories about how incompatible they are.
OK, I have to confess, I'm projecting a bit here. This is a situation I've found myself in (being a man who is, by nature, more sensitive and accomodating than your traditional frat-boy), and it's one I'm pretty tired of.
So here I am. Smart, articulate, emotionally well-balanced, and not horrifically gnarly to look at. I guess I'm just frustrated at not being able to find a woman who actually wants what she says she wants. Now, that might sound like a preconception, but I work very hard at making sure that it isn't. It's my observation, based on more personal experience than I'd like to admit. I mean, that's the way it works...you pays your money, you takes your chances...there's nothing wrong with that.
Haven't lost heart yet, though. I know which of those two types of people I am. What about you? Which one are you? Write and tell me, if you are so moved.
Posted by Lee at 01:43 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
August 25, 2002
God and Goddess Party! w00t!
Sunday, August 25, 2002
Tommy hooked me up. After my ambiguous trip to NYC (see below), he knew I needed to shake it loose. So he went over to the fabric store and got fabric for togas (tie-dye for him, green and gold for me), laurel wreaths, and grapes. I went over to his house, and we headed out for Austin (three hours away) after I got out of work. The togas looked AWESOME.
The (ostensible) excuse for the party was Suzyn's birthday. Tommy and I stopped in Carl's Corner, TX to get birthday presents. Suzyn got beef jerky, a postcard with grasshoppers plowing a field, a Carl's Corner toothpick holder, and a Stone Cold Steve Austin car air freshener. We were pretty sure nobody'd ever given her any of these things, so it was quite memorable.
The only person I knew at the party apart from Tommy and Suzyn was Cathy, who was also at Tommy's birthday party. She's a nationally-ranked tae kwon do champion, and a really cool human being. Don't want to make her mad, though. : )
The hostess I actually MET was a charming gal named Celena.
Work it, baby!
This party turned just freakin' great. Had some beer, flirted with women, ate some cake...JUST what I needed. Life is good, yes?
So, after the drunken debauchery (during the recovery period) I found myself outside in a circle of about ten people talking about all sorts of cool stuff. Then people started dropping like flies! SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK! Tommy and I wound up talking to Celena and a fellow named Erik all night, and the four of us went to Kerbey Lane for breakfast (mmmm....migas!).
I miss Austin. Good people, good town, good food...it's the only part of Texas that I don't want to nuke from orbit.
Here's Tommy's photo album of the evening, several of which I've used above. His website also has a more cogent account...I think I'd had more to drink than he had. : )
Posted by Lee at 01:42 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
August 22, 2002
New York, New York!
Thursday, August 22, 2002
(pictures to follow as I get them uploaded)
I have but three words for you.
Va. Ca. Tion.
(Hmm...vaca means "cow", and cows are pretty funny...I like that.)
Last Thursday, I flew to New York City for a week. I went to visit Emily and spend some time adventuring in the city.
New York is not what people say it is. People say that it's smelly, dirty, crowded, full of mean people, and generally very unpleasant. Although there are parts of it that are, ah, fragrant, it's not any worse than any other large city I've been in. And maybe I was lucky, but EVERY PERSON I dealt with was courteous, friendly, and very pleasant to be around. Some people say it's a different place since the attacks last September, and if that's so, I am glad to see that such a horror can have such positive side-effects.
And the subway! LOVES me the subway. I paid $17 bucks for a 7-day unlimited metro pass. That gives me free access to buses and trains throughout New York. The maps were excellent, and the signs in the subway stations (once I figured out what I was doing) were very clear.
On Friday, I went to the American Museum of Natural History and saw lots of cool anthropology stuff, and lots of animals (stuffed ones, in dioramas) and dinosaur skeletons. The cool thing about going to a dinosaur exhibit is that you can be eight years old again. The bad thing about going to a dinosaur exhibit is all the shrieking eight year olds. Whatcha gonna do, eh?
Saturday, Emily and I waited all day for the cable guy to show up. Finally happened, an hour and a half late, and set everything up. (He was a really nice guy...very competent and friendly)
Sunday was church, brunch, and hangin' out.
Met a guy who was selling some furniture (that Emily needed) who worked for The Late Show. Emily and I half-jokingly asked him for tickets, and he totally hooked us up. (No, you can't have his name or phone number.) We planned on going to the Tuesday show, to see Robin Williams and James Taylor.
Monday, Emily's friend Davis and I went to the Guggenheim Museum. Now, I'm not a big fan of modern art (anything newer than Impressionism is generally totally lost on me) but there were some really cool images and films presented in the Moving Pictures exhibition, which explored the uses of film, photography, and digital techniques in art. Lots of neat stuff, lots of stuff that didn't mean anything to me. I did formulate one of my issues with modern art, though. I found that many of the pieces made much more sense when you read the artist bio/blurb near the work. In other words, the works don't stand on their own merit. It's not possible to see what the artist was trying to accomplish without being told what the artist was trying to accomplish. To me, I feel like if you want to tell somebody something, you should be a writer. If you want to show somebody something, be a (visual) artist. But I think it's the mark of an unskilled communicator to present a work that is not self-contained.
My opinion. Could be wrong. : )
I liked Jeff Koons' Easyfun Ethereal collection. Huge 9'x12' paintings, rendered photo(sur)realistically in oils. He composites his paintings together from magazine clippings, then gets a great big canvas and starts painting. Man seems to like junk food.
I also enjoyed Peter Fischli and David Weiss's photography.
Monday night, I cooked dinner for Emily and Davis and Braxton (Emily's roommate). Pork chops with a honey and cinnamon marinade. Everybody seemed to think they were really tasty, and I think they were right.
Tuesday, I went to the museum aboard the USS Intrepid, which was docked on the Hudson River at 44th Street. I've always been a pretty big naval aviation enthusiast, ever since Time Warner sent me a copy of "The Carrier War" (which I hadn't asked for). I read this book so many times, the spine broke. I was fascinated by the idea of the aircraft carrier replacing the battleship as the major offensive weapon of the fleet. The USS Intrepid was one of the first carriers to enter service during World War II, and served with distinction well into the jet age. It was really a moving experience for me to walk around on the decks of this venerable warship, thinking about all the men who died in these spaces.
Then, from the sublime to the ridiculous, I met Emily and we headed over to the Ed Sullivan Theater to see Letterman. We went to a guy in a blue shirt, and said the Magic Words given to us by our new friend with the furniture. We were whisked away to a charming gal with an honest-to-God CLIPBOARD with OUR NAMES ON IT. We were ON A LIST. First time in my life I've been on "The List", and it was super-cool.
We were led past a line of thousands of people who DIDN'T get into the show, feeling all smug and important. The audience attendants told us "Hey, when in doubt? Laugh." and then we were led into the theatre. Emily and I were seated on Dave's left-hand side of the theater, basically right in front of The Desk. We were in the front row of the balcony, and had a good view of the (tiny!) stage. After the monologue, Dave played with the deli owner next door, Randall Jee. Here's a shot of Emily in front of the Hello New York Deli.
Robin Williams and James Taylor were the guests. Mr. Williams was suitably zany, and plugging his new movie One Hour Photo. He also spoke extensively of his trip to France, following Lance Armstrong's successful bid for his fourth Tour De France victory.
After the Late Show, we took a quick spin through Rockefeller Center, and then took a ride on the Staten Island Ferry. (None of my spectacular photos of the Statue of Liberty came out, unfortunately...)
Wednesday, I slept in. Emily's roommate Braxton took me to a deli for lunch, and I had God's own pastrami sammich. Yummy yummy! Then we went down to Coney Island to ride the Cyclone.
I expected the Cyclone to be a nice little roller coaster. Once we went over the first lift hill, though, I realized this thing had a well-deserved reputation as a first rate wooden coaster. It's every bit as intense as the Texas Giant, although it's much smoother (and, of course, smaller). Great great great roller coaster.
Thursday, Belgian waffles at the corner restaurant, and a limo ride to the airport (courtesy of Emily, who was grateful for my work on her computer, which was WAY more than I'd counted on) and a pleasant plane ride home. Talked to a neat guy named Zak. We spent the flight to Charlotte figuring out how to fix all the ills in the world. As single-serving friends go, he was top drawer.
Then, home. And me own bed. Hurrah! What a fun trip!
So, all in all, the vacation part was great. However, my romantic designs on the charming Emily were for naught. She decided I wasn't the boy for her.
grr.
Insert large amounts of chagrin here. Ah well...and now we turn the page.
Posted by Lee at 01:40 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
August 11, 2002
Another Golden Harvest Opus
Sunday, August 11, 2002
Ah, martial arts cinema. People flying around on wire harnesses waving swords and attacking each other with articles of clothing and really distressing hairpieces.
Found another good one tonight. The Asian Film Festival of Dallas puts on a weekly movie nite with some very recent martial arts classics. Tonight, Tommy, Rusty, Sarah, Dave, and the afore-mentioned Snoopy Kiss Girl (who forgave Tommy after he promised not to lick her face anymore) along with my sister Liz all went to see Storm Riders at the Magnolia Theater. The Magnolia has installed a Digital Light Processor-based projector in one of their theaters, making it possible to play a DVD movie with very nice picture quality on a full-size screen.
So we got to see Storm Riders (aka "Feng yun xiong ba tian xia" if you speak Cantonese). I was THRILLED to see that it was a Golden Harvest Production. Golden Harvest did just about ALL of my fave wire-fu pictures. Most of Jackie Chan's older stuff, Bride with White Hair, Warriors from Magic Mountain...Golden Harvest did 'em all. I'm guessing that Raymond Chow (the producer on, like, all these flicks) has some sort of, ah, arrangement, with the, ah, more colorful elements of Hong Kong...
Well. No sense offending The Triads.
Moving right along. The movie starred Sonny Chiba, the Grand Old Man of HK action flicks. He played Lord Conquer, the nefarious martial arts master who kills the fathers of the two boys he wants as disciples, raises the boys to be powerful martial arts masters so he can fulfill his destiny and defeat Sword Saint, Lord Conquer's arch-nemesis.
Havoc ensues. The plot defies anything like rational description. Fiery hell-beasts, fiery monkeys, flying through the air, swords, troublesome women, severed limbs, fiery monkeys, dozens of improbably named swords, Shaolin monks, 200 foot tall Buddhas, a guy named Mud Buddha, a light-in-his-loafers chief adviser, and a fiery monkey.
Did I mention that there was a monkey? On fire? How could you not like this film, I ask you?
So. Of course, the two boys discover Conquer's treachery, and harness their own inner strength to defeat him in combat. I mean, duh! You figured that out ten minutes into the movie. But getting there was considerably more than half the fun.
The movie was GREAT! *Lee points one thumb up and one thumb down. If you don't get the joke, you'll have to ask me next time you see me.*
Posted by Lee at 01:39 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack