Friday, April 30, 2004
Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold
From the opening frame of the Far East meets Old West inspired Kill Bill Vol. I, which outlines the film's basic plot in the form of an old Klingon proverb, you know you've entered a Tarantino parallel universe. One laced with beautifully composed shots, vivid, violent, bloody death and more than a few smart cultural references.

What makes Tarantino's film such a joy to watch is the care and love he puts into weaving all these elements together. He combines his love for old Kung Fu films, the films of Japanese masters like Akira Kurosawa, classic Hollywood directors like John Ford and creates a new cinematic experience that is uniquely his own. He gleefully allows his passion for these influences to saturate his films. His films do not exist in some cultural blackhole which is why I love most of Tarantino's work. He writes and directs films the way I live my life, constantly pointing to some obscure cultural reference point, hoping someone will get the joke.

All his cleverness aside, Tarantino is a good storyteller. Kill Bill isn't a very complicated story. It is a revenge tale, pure and simple. The Bride's journey is compelling because Taratino allows her to be human, vulnerable and heartbroken before she dons her Bruce Lee inspired yellow outfit of death (you know, like the ensemble he wore in Game of Death when he was getting his ass kicked by Kareem Abdul Jabbar) to kill all those who ruined her attempt at happiness. When the Bride awakens after four years in a coma, she reaches for the baby that is no longer in her womb. The look on her face is one of deep, horrific sorrow. It is quiet, effecting moment.

My favorite moment, however, comes at the film's pastiche climax when The Bride faces off against the powerful Toyko crime boss leader, O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu). As they begin to fight, the bass beat and over the top horns of the disco classic Santa Esmerelda's "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" accompanies their first blows. This song has no earthly right to work as well as it does in this sequence, but it works in a way I can't even describe.

Tarantino has a knack for finding the right music to accent his films. In Tarantino's last film, the thoroughly under appreciated Jackie Brown, Bloodstone's "Natural High" is used to absolute perfection when the two lead characters meet for the first time. That sequence is probably one of my favorite scenes in film history.

Kill Bill Vol. I isn't the greatest film I've seen. It isn't even the greatest in Taratino's filmography (that distinction is still held by Jackie Brown which perfectly melded his fan-boy sensibilities with an equally complex character study), however, this film reminded how much fun a movie could be. Isn't that the point of cinema?

posted by runnerbird | 11:47 PM

Thursday, April 29, 2004
Random Star Sighting
After running into someone whom I pretty sure was Ashton Kutcher this afternoon, I realized that in the past few months I've had more than my fair share of random star sightings. Maybe it is because I work in a "star" saturated area or maybe it's just my dumb luck, but apparently I find myself in the right place and right time quiet often.

A few weeks ago, I was in Tower Video on Lafayette and West Fourth Street and was two steps from stepping into the path of positively radiant Kelly Ripa. She was pushing a stroller and had another kid attached to her hand. Then there was the time I saw the lead singer for The Cars, Ric Ocasek in Virgin Megastore buying a basket of overpriced DVDs and CDs. His most interesting purchase, a Spiderman-themed Monopoly board game. I keep seeing Carlos Leon, aka ex-personal trainer/father of Madonna's first child, every couple of weeks. I think he lives across the street from where I work. Last week, I almost ran into Heather Tom coming out of Cosi on 13th Street and Broadway. I had the urge to shout "Victoria Newman, Yo," but I didn't. Last Friday, I saw Khrystyne Haje waiting for a table at one of those posh Union Square outdoor cafes that I wouldn't want to eat at because I feel I am not attractive enough to eat there. Why do I even remember what Khrystyne Haje even looks like? Search me, brother. On Saturday, I saw one of the comics from the VH1 show Best Week Ever walking up Bleecker, but this was not nearly as exciting as walking passed one of co-stars of Kissing Jessica Stein. Okay, it was exciting to me at any rate.

I'll admit, my random star sighting could be a bit more illustrious, but it's only April. I've got another seven months of walking and random sightings to come.

posted by runnerbird | 10:15 PM

Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Fashion Don'ts... No Really, Don't!
I have never been a slave to fashion or hip trends. I am more about being comfortable than looking good. Hence, all the soft, fuzzy sweaters, Nike sneakers, loose fitting jeans and t-shirts in my couture. There are no high-heeled pumps, tight jeans, short skirts or lacy stockings in my closet. And if any of these items suddenly appear in my closet, I give my friends permission to commit me or kill me whichever is more convenient. But this doesn't stop me from wandering around the nearest Urban Outfitters or H&M when the mood strikes me.

After a recent visit to the Urban Outfitters just off Bleecker, I had only one question, when did the 80s start creeping back into fashion? From those god-awful multi-colored t-shirts with weird sleeves, trucker hats to Member's Only Jackets, I fear that we've reached that point in time where the people actually buying these outfits are too young to remember how stupid and horrible we looked in them the first time around. The good news is the trucker hat craze appears on its way out. I saw a woman who looked about sixty wearing a Von Dutch hat so I think the final nail is being driven into that coffin as we speak.

There are other, more troubling trends like flipping the collar up on your polo shirts. I thought this was someone's idea of a retro joke when I saw a guy with his collar up a couple of weeks ago, but then I was out for a walk and saw a girl with her the collar up on her white polo shirt. I had a vivid flashblack of 1983 and had the sudden urge to say "Like, ohimgod, like for sure totally bitchin' tubular look." People, it's wrong. Collars, like toliet seats, belong down, the way god intended.

When will this madness end? Surely no one will be doning neon pink lyrca pants with stirups. Baggy, ill-fitting shirts. No way in hell acid wash jeans and teased up, layered hair could ever make a comeback, right? Right?!

posted by runnerbird | 9:27 PM

Monday, April 26, 2004
Love, Longing, Loneliness and Lunch
Now that I've seen the season finale of The L Word a few dozen times and allowed the rest of this season's episodes to slowly simmer in the dark recesses of my subconscious, I've collected my thoughts enough to pick my favorite new show apart. As my grandmother used to say, I pick because I love and because I have nothing better to do.

The L Word might not be the best show in the world, but it is more than the sum of its nicely put together parts. Perhaps, I am a bit biased. I connected so closely with most of the characters that I am willing to overlook some of its major flaws. These tight knit group of friends remind me a lot of my tight knit group of friends...if we were all gay, all really good looking and had tons of free time to sit around drinking coffee. It was refreshing to see a show centered around women that doesn't involve catty, bitchy fighting or the pursuit of the perfect man. Gay or straight, many women I've talked to appreciate this aspect of the show and for this, The L Word, I salute you!

But (oh, you knew there was a "but" coming didn't you), like a underachieving student you know is capable of so much more, The L Word delivered a whole lot of disappointment after its first semester was said and done. While I wouldn't deem the first season a "failure" by any stretch of the imagination (and really, the first season of most quality TV shows are total crap), I would probably grade it a terribly average B (-) ... The things it did very right were often overshadowed by the things it did wrong. List them, you say. Why I never thought you'd ask.

Jenny/Marina/Tim: The Triangle From Uber Hell
Perhaps the first sign that something is amiss with your television show is when one of your main characters becomes the most hated character on the show. I don't bring the Jenny Hate as much as some, mostly because Mia Kirshner's acting makes me care inspite of my better judgment, but Jenny isn't exactly a character you are rooting for. Kirshner has talked in a few interviews about Jenny's tendency to act on her passions with a complete disregard for the consequences of her actions. It is this impulsive streak, which I found interesting for the first few episodes, that ultimately made Jenny a very unlikable character. She loves Tim. She loves Marina. She is dating Robin. No, she's dating Gene. She's straight. She's bisexual. She's gay. I love complex, confused, flawed characters, but there is a major difference between "flawed" and "flighty." After thirteen episodes, I still don't understand Jenny's motivation for half the things she did. I would have liked a more concrete explanation for her impulsive nature. And no, "she is writer, she needs experiences" just isn't enough. Worse still, after the first few episodes, the Jenny plot found itself on an island, completely unconnected to the rest of the show. There were a few episodes where Jenny, Marina and Tim would interact only among themselves. The episodes where I found Jenny the most likable were when she was interacting the show's core group.

Kit Porter: The Unsung Sista
Dear Ilene Chaiken, Just a quick note to ask one important, pressing question. Do you realize Pam "Mother Fucking Coffy Foxy Jackie Brown" Grier is in the cast of your hit drama, The L Word? Just checking because if I had Pam "MFCFJB" Grier in the cast of my show, I would actually use her. She wouldn't make drive-by appearances. She wouldn't have one line of dialogue as she rides away on her bicycle. She wouldn't be in an episode where her biggest scene was with a cat (although, I too love Mr. Piddles). Surely, if you knew Pam "MFCFJB" Grier was in the cast, you would have actually shown the major part of her storyline this season, you know her character Kit Porter making the decision to enter AA. Surely, it would have merited at least one scene. One, little scene of Kit in an AA group saying the rather cliché "My name is Kit Porter and I am an alcoholic" would have been a huge movement forward for a character. She is actually admitting she has a problem rather than using the old "I have it under control." I just know Pam "MFCFJB" Grier would have made that scene special. I mean, you had time for dolphin sex. Well, anyway, just wanted to let you know, Pam Grier is in your cast and a gosh darn good actress, so use her more next season. Mmmmkay.

The Sound of One Fan Wanking
Ah yes, the fine art of fanwanking. For those of you not familiar with the term, fanwanking is when a fan of a show must come up with a pausible explanation for an unexplained event, plot turn, character shift, etc to allow this action/event to make sense within the show's universe. In the show's short thirteen week run, I did more fanwanking than I did in the entire nine year run of The X-Files. While some things do not need long, drawn out explanations (Jenny is a writer and confused... we get it), other things sometimes need to be spelled out for an entire plot make sense. For instance, how did Shane go from being an easy and free player to being totally head over heels in love with a character she barely said ten lines of dialogue to onscreen? I mean I can fanwank that Shane fell in love with Sherry (Cherie?) because she believed enough in Shane to convince her husband to invest in her business. I'm sure Shane has never had anyone in her life to believe that much in her. And oh yeah, the sex was awesome. But, if you are writing a love story, don't you need to write at least one scene where the two characters, you know, fall in love? Even a scene where they weren't having sex and had an actually conversation involving something other than having sex would have done nicely. I'm just saying. And how did Bette "Monogamy is sacred" Porter slip so easily into an affair? Was she disillusioned with her home life? Her sex life? Was she trying to drown the sorrow of losing her unborn child and coping with a fractured relationship with a little hot sex? Was she just tired of being the good girl who was in control all the time? Was she just bored? Is it all of the above? None of the above? Such an important plot point shouldn't be so vague.

And Now For Some Film Geek Observations...
If you didn't go to film school, you can just ignore the rant that begins now... Why are there almost no close-ups? Why is there no coverage? For the LOVE OF GOD, why do you keep violating the 180 degree axis rule? Why is the ADR so bad? Why is there so much background noise? Why is the camera 1000 feet away? Can we just get Tony Goldwyn back to direct every episode next season?

I love this little GayMo Show. I really do. There were things I absolutely adored, like group scenes, Tina and Bette's relationship, Dana and Alice's friendship, Dana and Lara's fumble toward ecstasy and heartache, Mr. Piddles, Shane's good heart, Tina's smile, Dana's ever amusing facial expressions, Alice grade-A snark, Annette, Alice's Mom, road trip car karaoke, slurpee, not-so sneaky sex, mission gaydar, the list could go on, but I believe this underachiever could do so much better given the talent infront of and behind the camera. It could be top in its class. If only it tried a little harder.

posted by runnerbird | 9:56 PM

Sunday, April 25, 2004
Life or Something Like It
This whole "go out and have a life" New Year's resolution is tiring business. How do people do it? How do people go out every single weekend? I spent the entire weekend away from the warm, comforting cocoon of my apartment. It is no secret to anyone who knows me or anyone reading this blog on any sort of regular basis that I am a homebody at heart. I love the safety of my room, my books, and my movies. If it were entirely up to me, I would probably never leave my room, aside from my afternoon jogs and the occasional run to neighborhood Blockbuster.

My "oh-pity me" complaining aside, I did enjoy my weekend. It kept me away from my computer and kept my mind off of creating some other pointless website.

posted by runnerbird | 10:02 PM

Friday, April 23, 2004
In the Key of Rock
I've never been a huge Jack Black fan. I like my Black in small doses. He was great in High Fidelity. In Saving Silverman, not so much. So it goes without saying that I rented School of Rock with more than a little trepidation. Could I actually like film with wall to wall Jack Black antics for a full hour and thirty minutes? Apparently, the answer to this question is a resounding yes.

School of Rock is a feel-good film that is more than a little rough around the edges. It is about following your dreams even if those dreams don't come true. Trying to reach those dreams is its own reward. I have a particular soft spot for films about the love of music. I had the same reaction to this film as I did when I saw Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous for the first time. Both films are about finding yourself and finding your place through experiences you might probably never expect to have.

This film isn't very original. We all know the story of a teacher/mentor showing a bunch of kids how to believe in themselves and be themselves when everyone around them is crushing their dreams. From The Bad News Bears to Dead Poet's Society to last year's Oscar bait, Mona Lisa Smile, this film has been done before and it has been done better, but what makes this film more than the sum of its parts is Jack Black. He is a force of nature. His passion and love for music bring a certain truth to the film. I love the look that spreads over his face when he realizes none of his students know who Led Zeppelin is.

This film will probably be appreciated more by people who answer the question, what do you love about music with the simple reply, everything.

posted by runnerbird | 10:15 PM

Thursday, April 22, 2004
Inner Child
As we grow older, do we naturally gravitate towards things that make us feel younger? Do we long to recapture the days of our youth? This may be the only rational explanation for why my co-workers took a bunch of Slinkies left over from today's "Take Your Child to Work" corporate event in our cafeteria.

We spent the rest of the day trying to think of elaborate ways to get our new Slinkies from our desks to the floor. We stacked boxes, books and assorted other items to create steps the Slinkies could walk down. It turns out it is a wonderful toy and fun for a girl or a boy. It's Slinky!

Or maybe we've just all lost our minds.

posted by runnerbird | 11:01 PM

Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Subway Pet Peeves or Lessons in IRT Etiquette
If I added up all the hours I've spent riding the subway over the course of my life, it would probably rival the amount of hours I spend in the bathroom, maybe even the amount of time I spend in bed. As native New Yorker, I was riding the subways before I could walk, before I could talk and before I was born. A lifetime of experience and observation on those damp, dirty subway platforms and cars have taught me a thing or two about life, but mainly these hours have taught me about the unwritten laws of subway etiquette most New Yorkers follow. Sometimes...

One Body, One Seat - No, I don't care that you don't want your precious Prada bag to rest on the dirty subway car floor. And nope, I don't care if you just brought so much at Bloomingdale's that you just have to take up more than one seat. If it's rush hour and the car is crowded, all extraneous items belong by your feet. And don't give me a dirty look when I ask you to move them.

There's plenty of room, no really - If the subway car is completely empty, please don't come and sit right next to me. Personal space is precious so please take a seat far, far away from me.

It's an inch, not a mile - Finding a seat at 8:23am on a Monday morning train is worth it's weight in gold, but remember a crack between two people DOES NOT make an extra seat. No matter how much you tell us to move in either direction, chances are your ass will not fit, unless you are Kate Moss.

Standing Room Only - Why have you taken a perfectly good seat on a crowded subway to ride ONE STOP? I once saw a well-dressed business man take seat from an older woman only to occupy that seat for one stop. I'm sure he's going to hell for that.

Nothing, what are you doing? - There is nothing more annoying than riding in a perfectly silent subway car only to have your thoughts interrupted by those NexTel walkie talkie cellphones. Believe me, hearing one side of a cellphone conversation is annoying enough, but whoever invented this technology really should be shot. And why is it always the most boring conversation known to mankind? It always begins with a "man, where are you? What are you doing?... Oh, nothing. I'm on the train. What are you doing?.... Nothing, what are you doing?" Shut the hell up, just shut up!

posted by runnerbird | 9:57 PM

Monday, April 19, 2004
Sunny Days, Part Deux II
It should be a rule or perhaps a nationally law that if the weather is picture perfect gorgeous, you know like George Clooney in a tuxedo, then we should have a day off. To paraphrase that great prophet, Ferris Bueller, how could I possibly be expected to handle work on a day like today? Blue skies, warm temperatures, a light southwest breeze, it is almost criminal to be locked indoors, chained to my desk for eight hours.

Maybe I wouldn't mind so much if I was sitting someplace near a window where I could see sunlight, but I am stuck in the middle of a very big office floor with cubicle walls block out all light except for the overhead track lighting that is probably making me blinder with each passing day.

Do I sound as miserable as I feel? Could I possibly whine any more? And when did I turn into a miserable, whining, complaining working stiff?

posted by runnerbird | 10:23 PM

Sunday, April 18, 2004
Sunny Days
We've had a gorgeous couple of days in New York City. Sunny, clear bright skies and deliciously warm weather for two whole days reminded me that it is, in fact, spring. With all the rain earlier this week, I had forgotten. I can only hope this beautiful weather lasts so I can store my winter wear at the bottom of my closet for good.

When the year began, I promised myself once the weather was warmer, I would try to get out more. Take long walks. Go to some museums. Have some divine cultural experience. Maybe go strolling in the park. So far, I've been sticking to this promise. I was out yesterday afternoon in Astoria Park soaking in the sun. Sitting on the same old bench to watch the children play. You know tomorrow is their future, but for me, just another day. They all gather around me. They seem to know my name... yeah, you gotta love seventies soul.

Today, I had a lovely Sunday brunch at Mud, a small cafe just off 9th Street and 2nd Ave, and tried, rather unsuccessfully, to purchase some spring clothing. Why are neon pastel colors making a comeback? Does anyone you know look good in bright pink capri pants? I thought we had left that dead and buried back in 1986 with Member's Only jackets, Chic jeans and Izod button down shirts. But I digress.

Hopefully, I can actually keep this New Year's resolution and begin to actually have compelling New York experiences because I know I am tired of reading blog after blog entry where I drone on endlessly about some TV show I watch or some actor I like. There are other things more fulfilling in life than television. Maybe if I realize that I would have a much happier life.

Yeah, did the paragraph above convince you? I'll be watching TV until the end of my sweet life. They will have to rip the remote from my cold, dead hands. What a lovely thought.

posted by runnerbird | 8:48 PM

Saturday, April 17, 2004
I Believe You Have My Stapler
This afternoon, Lifetime: Television for Women took a break from showing those movies with cheesy titles like My Stepson, My Lover and She Stood Alone, to actually show a movie that nothing to do with being stalked, being raped, being sent to jail for a crime you didn't commit or being stalked, raped and than being sent to jail for a crime you didn't commit (I think that movie starred Michelle Greene). For some unknown reason, Lifetime aired the homage to corporate working types like me who only do about fifteen minutes of real work in a given week, the Mike Judge comedy classic, Office Space.

Since rejoining the world of the cubicle, this film has taken on special resonance. Who hasn't stared at their cubicle walls and wondered, is this all there is? In the famous words of Peter Gibbons:

"So I was sitting in my cubicle today, and I realized, ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that's on the worst day of my life."

Yep, pretty much sums up my life at the moment.

posted by runnerbird | 10:37 PM

Friday, April 16, 2004
The Fangirl in Me
Last night, I launched a fan site dedicated to Erin Daniels. Yes, I have entirely too much time on my hands, why do you ask? The logical, intellectual side of me just wanted to design something again. It's been a while since I played around with Photoshop. I've been a bit of a tech-head lately, correcting lines of xsl code as the creative side of me slowly withers away. The fangirl in me just wanted show much love to the actress who played my TV alter-ego so beautifully.

I have to find something to pass the time until the next season of The L Word.

posted by runnerbird | 10:02 PM

Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Worst. Day. Ever
Have you ever had one of those days were everything that could possibly go wrong within an eight hour period does go horribly, horribly wrong? I'm sure in the grand scheme of things, my problems today wouldn't even register on the scale of bad. I'm sure if I put things in perspective, today would rank right up with the day I stubbed my toe on the bed post or maybe that time I broke my favorite pair of headphones, but it still doesn't make me feel any less crappy about today.

If I had a time machine, I would go back to twelve hours and just call in sick. Of course, then there would be two version of me walking around, one in the right time continuum and one twelve hours older. Sorry, I've watched too many episodes of Star Trek and I can't help be worry about the timeline. I mean, I could travel back in time and somehow cause the Nazis to win World War II like "City on the Edge of Forever." Would I let a version of myself get run over by a car to insure that the Nazis lose.... what the hell am I talking about? Never mind.

Back to reality for a second, the less said about today, the better.

posted by runnerbird | 9:12 PM

Monday, April 12, 2004
Hey Portard, How Your Two Moms, You Big GayMo!
After thirteen all-too short weeks, Showtime's original series The L Word ended its first season run last night with a pretty gusty episode. One reason I give this show a lot of credit is it is not afraid to take chances in its storytelling. It allows its characters to get a little ugly. They are imperfect. They are confused. They simmer in their own fears and insecurities. I like that. Flawed characters make my world spin, round, like a record, baby, right, round, round!

While I wouldn't deem the first season "perfection" (hey, they can't all be as perfect as the first season of Six Feet Under), I would call it a success judging by how much I care about these character's lives and how long the nine months will seem between the season finale and the premiere of season two slated to air in January 2005.

The slow implosion of the show's core couple, Bette and Tina (TiBette to those of us obssessed enough to make up little nicknames), was the most compelling arc of the season, thanks, in large part, to the talents of Jennifer Beals and Laurel Holloman, who managed to turn even the most mundane lines into pure, solid gold. Bette and Tina's struggle to keep their seven year relationship afloat through the stormy waters of personal tragedy (Tina suffered a devasting miscarriage of their first child), shifting/changing personal identities and infidelity was, at times, painful to watch. It wasn't sunny, romantic or perfect. It was like watching a car wreck. It was too horrible not too stare.

I think I need a few more days to full process the entire season. I'm sure I will be formulating a list shortly.

posted by runnerbird | 11:37 PM

Sunday, April 11, 2004
Completely Pointless
In a sure sign I have lost what little grip on sanity I had left, I spent a few hours creating the polaroid below.

I have to find some way to amuse myself. This is what happens when you stare at screen captures all day long.

posted by runnerbird | 9:16 PM

Friday, April 09, 2004
If Only...
I am a big enough person to admit, I was more than a little excited when I heard Hanson was set to perform today at the Billboard Cafe. If only because they remind me so much of those early days in college, listening to cheesy pop like the Spice Girls, laughing with my friends over how cheesy we all were because we knew all the words to "Wannabe," so Hanson takes me back to those carefree days and puts a wide smile on my face.

They performed a few songs and were pretty good. Taylor, Zac and Issac (okay, yeah I know their names...wanna make something of it) are all grown up. Much to the disappointment of the standing room only crowd, they did not perform "Mmmmbop," but I don't think any of them could hit those notes no matter how hard they tried.

And while I am admitting embarrassing details of my existence, I broke down and rented Disc Two of Mutant X: Season One last night. It couldn't be helped, the gravitational pull of Lauren Lee Smith is just too strong.

Maybe there is a twelve step or detox Lauren Lee Smith program I can enter or something.

posted by runnerbird | 8:25 PM

Thursday, April 08, 2004
A Tear and A Beer
Good evening, heartache. Have a beer. I'll tell what's the matter. What I fear. Is it ending up alone? No one to call your own? Good evening, heartache. Stay a while, won't you. Keep me company while I'm sad and blue. Sure, another beer will do.

Why the sing-songy attempt at prose? Last night, a friend and I had a long conversation about her relationship troubles over a few drinks. Since every person I've ever "dated" (stretching the term to its limit) has run a hundred miles an hour in the opposite direction, naturally, I am the best person to dispense relationship counsel. I should really write a book or something.

I've admitted before that I am a romantic at heart. Despite the relationships I see fail and falter every day around me, I still hold on to the hope that "forever" is possible. It might not be easy, but it is possible. Then, there is the jaded, cynical side of me that thinks we build relationships on momentary connections that fade away over time. We hang all our hopes and dreams on some passing feeling we had for two seconds some night, at some point. These sides of myself are at constant war.

But what would this life be if we didn't try to make these mometary connections last "forever"? I always come back to a quote from one of my favorite films, Before Sunrise, whenever I feel like the jaded cynic is winning:

"I really believe that if there is any kind of God, he wouldn't be in anyone of us, not you, not me, but in the space between. If there's some kind of magic in this world, it must be in the attempt of understanding someone else, sharing something. Even if it's almost impossible to succeed, but who cares. The answer must be in the attempt."

However futile the quest, the fulfillment must be in that sacred attempt at connection. To truly understand another human being, really, there isn't much more happiness to found in life than this.

posted by runnerbird | 10:46 PM

Tuesday, April 06, 2004
Ten Years Gone
The past few days, I've been reminded how time marches on. It has been ten years since the "voice of a generation," the tortured lead singer for Nirvana, Kurt Cobain, took his own life. For many of my generation, this was one of those "where we you" moments. Perhaps not as Earth-shattering or shaking as recent global events, but for anyone who loved music and was heavily into the "Seattle" sound, it was like a kick in the gut to hear Kurt Loder announced over the MTV airwaves that Kurt's body was discovered in his home.

I was a sophomore in High School. While most of my friends listened to Notorious B.I.G and the Wu-Tang Clan, I soaked up the alternative rock of the early nineties. With it's stripped sound, distorted guitar and dark, intellectual lyrics, this music was the soundtrack to my angsty teen years. In the blink of an eye, Kurt Cobain and his band ushered in a new era of rock that was more about emotional isolation than nothing but a good time.

While carrying the mantle for disassociated, alienated youth the world over brought Cobain fame and fortunate, it also heightened his own of emotional turmoil. Undoubtedly, most would probably crack under the weight of such a burden. He didn't want to be the savior of rock and roll. He didn't want to be the poster child for the disenfranchised youth of America.

Who can really say what drove him to commit suicide. Only he can answer that question for sure, but I often wonder what his life and career would have been like if he had lived? Would he still be revelant in today's music scene? Or would he have faded into pop culture landscape like Eddie Veddar and Chris Cornell who enjoy a lot of respect, but not much profit. What would he have to say about today's teen pop idols and rock gods? Would his band and his music be as regarded if he had lived? Or would Nirvana's music been just another staple of alternative rock stations?

posted by runnerbird | 9:23 PM

Monday, April 05, 2004
Recovery
Yes, I am painfully aware of the lack of updates. I wish I could say I've been out in the big, bad city actually, you know, having a life, but that would be a big, fat lie. Instead, I've been sitting at home recovering from a rather nasty head cold. This weekend, I spent more time unconscious than I had in twenty-four years. Now, I am feeling rested, a bit healthier and ready to back to my life of not having a life.

By Sunday, I was feeling well enough to start preliminary designs for an Erin Daniels fan site because you know the web is just aching for another pointless fangirl site.

posted by runnerbird | 10:12 PM