Most people who know me may remember my initial skepticism regarding Sony's console this generation. They marketed it as the crème de la crème, selling it at the seemingly ridiculous price of $599, and while Sony was indeed the market leader by a vast margin at the time, their corporate attitude stunk horribly of hubris. I even made a documentary short on the subject, poking fun at Sony while trumpeting Nintendo's Wii as the undiscovered country of gaming. Blu-ray was a waste of money, the outcome of its war with HD-DVD still in heavy dispute, and the majority of consumers would be satisfied with their upscaled DVDs for years to come as they only finally managed to get the full worth of even those discs as they upgraded to their 16:9 digital displays.
That was then; this is now. And boy, have times changed.
The Wii and I had a short and somewhat bitter marriage, with the smooth promise of "Super Mario Galaxy" somewhat undermined by the annoying shake controls of "Twilight Princess," the imprecision of "Okami," and most of all by the blurry 480p graphics. "Galaxy" was beautiful, no doubt, but it was painful to consider just how much more beautiful it would have been had it been rendered on tech that wasn't nearly a decade old. When the most satisfying experience on your console is bowling, you have problems. The Wii has migrated to other lands than mine.
My 360, my first investment in this generation, rests atop a small table, an improvised stand in the tiny bedroom, practically unused. I fear to play it, having gotten the dreaded RROD once already, and am annoyed that because I was an early adopter, I am forced to live with using the outdated VGA cable for my video connection rather than the more simple and reliable HDMI that came with the later Elite and Zephyr boards. Inserting a disc is equally a scary proposition as the drive has clearly begun to wear and the DVD upscaler leaves much to be desired. The media player is, like its Windows counterpart, clunky and dysfunctional. Our relationship is on the skids, hanging on by the threads of "Symphony of the Night," "Arkham Asylum," and "The Orange Box," as I have little desire to repurchase these titles again for the small influx of cash that disposing of the system would bring.
By contrast, the relationship with my new sleek black mistress is thriving, primarily due to a single factor: the once-dreaded Blu-ray. Having conquered HD-DVD, and with the ugly spectre of locking discs to specific players seemingly discarded (so far), it appears that my initial reluctance was somewhat misplaced. Granted, at the time I had a television only capable of 720p, but now, having benefited from a defect-related refund, I have a 1080p set and am capable of receiving the full benefits of the format's resolution. Indeed, while I had thought that quite a few of my upscaled DVDs looked excellent, Blu-rays -- at least on spectacle films stuffed with comprehension-defying detail -- are absolutely superb. The Planet Earth series features perhaps the greatest picture I have ever seen; it is truly awe-inspiring, with vibrant colors and a three-dimensional POP! that is wholly lacking from the six-times reduced DVD image. Honestly, I've still yet to be impressed by the "added functionality" that the Blu-ray profile and BD-Java brings to the bonus features, but I whole-heartedly confess that I was mistaken about the benefit in regards to image. With the right material, it is a TREMENDOUS leap forward.
Additionally, with the new Slim models, the PS3 is little more expensive than a fully-featured stand-alone player with the added substantial benefit of game functionality. I can still get my "God of War" fix, and I've found a surprising wealth in rediscovering "Final Fantasy VII." Media streaming works splendidly through TVersity with a slick interface and a gorgeous visualization of the earth from orbit. While I've not taken full advantage yet, it's nice that I don't have to pay a subscription fee to access multiplayer or to use my Netflix account over PSN. Not to mention that the design of the system itself, from the curvy onyx surface to the liquid smooth XMB interface, oozes class. The sound of a tuning orchestra gives me chills every time I start up the machine; it's pretentious, perhaps, but also far more pleasant to the ear than the annoying strobe sound effect on the 360 (along with the painful memories of the console freezing half the times it was started).
No one is more surprised than I at how far my opinions have changed. I've no doubt that watching the gripes in my doc would seem quaint (for a whole host of reasons). I regretted and rectified my purchase of a Wii, and I still regret receiving an Xbox 360; if I knew four years ago what I know now, undoubtedly I'd have simply waited for a PS3 -- there's still no way in hell I'd have paid $599, even if the damn Xbox ended up costing a considerable amount higher due to Microsoft's nickel-and-diming.
In the future, I'll maintain greater respect for my Tokyo overlords.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Thursday, August 27, 2009
La Cucaracha
It is with no small amount of pleasure that I bask in the knowledge that soon I will be out of this infested hive of an apartment in three days' time. I have killed two roaches in The Room That Formally Was Neil's, both disturbingly close to where my mattress is resting on the floor. The first one was tiny, likely a tiny roach baby. That makes me Aaron, the roach baby-killer. Perhaps Roach O'Reilly will invoke the lunatic roach right-wing to assassinate me... but their window of opportunity draws to an end. The second was an adult and left an adult-sized smear of goo on the floor from where I stomped its head and its stomach into gooey roach paste. More than likely, I am a roach-baby-mama-killer as well.
In three days, I will be moving to Van Nuys to share David's studio until I can get an income and properly support my own damn self. I visited last weekend and was very pleasantly surprised. The living space will be roughly equal to when we shared Conquest's supposed "one-bedroom" in Tropicana, but with an infinitely superior location and more closet space to boot. I was even surprised that I enjoyed the Valley, which is tantamount to sacrilege, I know. But I'm still a suburban midwesterner deep inside, and that means that on some deep dark dirty psychological level, I find large strip malls and open wide parking lots -- the So Cal prairie lands -- comforting. That of course is with the full knowledge that the full urban culture experience is only a half-hour drive away, should I so choose to escape the inanity of it all.
I've got an interview at the Arclight after years of swearing that I would never work again in a movie theater. Granted, there's a large difference between the cheap theater in an Ohio suburb overrun with over-caffeinated pre-teens and the Arclight, but its not exactly the halcyon days of my youth we're talking about here. Still, in an economy this shitty, a job is a job, and I'm sure I won't mind taking full advantage of the employee discount. Hopefully, if I do start working there, it won't be too long before Amotz and Echo Lake can find something more substantial (or something good happens on the writing front, but finding a good job is more likely to happen first, I would imagine). And if the Arclight doesn't work, I still have the possibility of joining the hipsters at Amoeba. And other jobs worthy of my brand-spanking-new $160,000 degree.
The night is dark and hot as hell. It is no doubt warmer in Van Nuys, and yet it in no way deters my desire to get out of the proverbial Dodge. Three days. A few more to possibly landing a job. And if more roaches get in my way, I may give Hans Landa a run for his money as the most vicious mass-murder this summer.
In three days, I will be moving to Van Nuys to share David's studio until I can get an income and properly support my own damn self. I visited last weekend and was very pleasantly surprised. The living space will be roughly equal to when we shared Conquest's supposed "one-bedroom" in Tropicana, but with an infinitely superior location and more closet space to boot. I was even surprised that I enjoyed the Valley, which is tantamount to sacrilege, I know. But I'm still a suburban midwesterner deep inside, and that means that on some deep dark dirty psychological level, I find large strip malls and open wide parking lots -- the So Cal prairie lands -- comforting. That of course is with the full knowledge that the full urban culture experience is only a half-hour drive away, should I so choose to escape the inanity of it all.
I've got an interview at the Arclight after years of swearing that I would never work again in a movie theater. Granted, there's a large difference between the cheap theater in an Ohio suburb overrun with over-caffeinated pre-teens and the Arclight, but its not exactly the halcyon days of my youth we're talking about here. Still, in an economy this shitty, a job is a job, and I'm sure I won't mind taking full advantage of the employee discount. Hopefully, if I do start working there, it won't be too long before Amotz and Echo Lake can find something more substantial (or something good happens on the writing front, but finding a good job is more likely to happen first, I would imagine). And if the Arclight doesn't work, I still have the possibility of joining the hipsters at Amoeba. And other jobs worthy of my brand-spanking-new $160,000 degree.
The night is dark and hot as hell. It is no doubt warmer in Van Nuys, and yet it in no way deters my desire to get out of the proverbial Dodge. Three days. A few more to possibly landing a job. And if more roaches get in my way, I may give Hans Landa a run for his money as the most vicious mass-murder this summer.
| La cucaracha, la cucaracha, |
| ya no puede caminar |
| porque no tiene, porque le falta |
| las dos patitas de atrás. |
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Northern Lights
Dark stillness hovers in sky above
Void of man’s wisdom and his love
Only emptiness and longing
Glinting pinpricks of faded light
Distant echoes of lost memories.
But softly shimmering you appear
Magnificent ribbon amongst the stars
Nature’s magic, igniting dreams
What wonders yet remain unseen?
The heavens harmonize to your song.
Endless night once spurned must stay
Your glories radiant expand my sight
Would ever I possess titanic strength
For the dreaded daylight to restrain
And in your glow forever basking
To remain.
Void of man’s wisdom and his love
Only emptiness and longing
Glinting pinpricks of faded light
Distant echoes of lost memories.
But softly shimmering you appear
Magnificent ribbon amongst the stars
Nature’s magic, igniting dreams
What wonders yet remain unseen?
The heavens harmonize to your song.
Endless night once spurned must stay
Your glories radiant expand my sight
Would ever I possess titanic strength
For the dreaded daylight to restrain
And in your glow forever basking
To remain.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
"Never Underestimate the Power of Stupid People in Large Groups"
Today, I read this article and some of the comments surrounding it, and I have to say that it riles me up.
Changing "Sci-Fi" to "Syfy" is quite possibly the most ridiculous change in branding I have come across in my 23 years of existence. Supposedly, their focus group says that it is similar to how the channel would "text," but honestly, it makes me think of syphilis. Not exactly an appealing notion to market your network on. It's also clearly a step in "broadening" the appeal of the network for a "more mainstream" audience.
What happened to the concept of loyalty in this country? To fidelity? To fit into a niche and supporting a small but very loyal following? Why is every product dumbed down to the lowest common denominator (ECW Wrestling, reality TV, etc.)? The entire purpose of cable TV was to create content for these niche audiences, content that wouldn't be found on the networks, but now, in the midst of a conglomerated culture that has sought to be all things to all people in an effort to post the most profit in the least amount of time, diversity is considered nothing more than an impediment to dividends. They want babys and grandmas (but most especially those Generation X-ers in-between) to watch everything at every time for maximum revenue generation. It's not about long-term loyalty and all about short-term profit margins -- the same bullshit mentality that has brought this country's economy to its knees.
Personally, I have a hard time believing that "Syfy" was rigorously vetted through focus groups. Sure, you can trademark it, but that doesn't make it intelligent or appealing. I see only syphilis.
It should be a hit for the kids.
The other mass stupidity on my mind today is this constant scapegoating of the media. No matter if you're a lefty-loony or a righty-tighty, the media is always biased to the other side if what they report doesn't subscribe to your viewpoint. Right now, if Obama is praised or defended, it's the liberal elite media. If he's criticized or if Bush is defended, it's the corporate shill mainstream media. I'm not saying that there's no validity to such complaints, but to simply dismiss all the media because one article or reporter apparently takes a stand different that your own is sophomoric at best and schizophrenic at worst.
To my mind, the fact that both sides can complain suggests that SOMETHING must be right; if one side were always ignored, there might be some validity, but everyday the media is presented as both; even the same network can be accused of being "Obamabots" or "rethuglicans" at the SAME TIME. If anything, the problem is that the media is incompetant, having lost sight of reporting the truth and is instead more interested in "gets" and generating maximum ratings -- another casualty of the modern corporate culture. It is perfectly natural to disagree with the media's spin, perhaps even preferable. We shouldn't resort to namecalling and generalization simply due to disagreements. Calling out a specific person or article, that's fair, but a blanket dismissal is intellectually lazy.
We've got to end this entire "more is more" corporate stupidity in this country, wanting all with us now and forgetting about the long haul. Whether it's crushing a niche market or devaluing alternative points-of-view, this mentality is undermining the fabric of America. We were meant to disagree, to listen to varied opinions, and to enjoy different leisures. These differences are what keeps our society dynamic and in balance; without them, we will become stagnant and "drown" in our own filth. We can break off into smaller, more concentrated groups, whether it be the Green Party or a gang of geeks settling down for a Star Trek marathon. That way, when we all mingle at work or the neighborhood barbecue, the interactions will be all the richer for it.
Smarter, smaller, more diverse trains of thought for all!
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Goodbye, Andy
At the service last week, I was unable to speak. I've written this post to serve as my eulogy for Andy.
When Mom died almost eight years ago, it was a severe blow to our family. It personally sent me into a such a state of denial and depression that for six months I truly believed it to be some sort of twisted practical joke and was incapable of talking about it for any length of time (to anyone) for over two years. The one major positive that came out of that ordeal was that it forced Andy, my little brother, and I to get over some of our petty sibling squabbles and be there for each other. That's not to say we never fought after that, but there was always a sense that we could count on one another whenever the going got rough or when one of us needed a quick laugh. We were brothers, and no matter what life would throw at us, we knew that we would help each other get through it.
Which is why when I received a phone call early in the morning two Sundays ago, I didn't just get the news that no big brother wants to hear; I got the absolutely worst and most horrible news possible:
Andy had died.
He had just turned 21 in January. He'd finally found a major he was interested in. He was so happy. So young. There was so much that he had yet to do with his life, so much to see. There was so much for us to do together -- weddings, crashing Hollywood parties, cross-country road trips, and undoubtedly more rides at Cedar Point.
The coroners determined he suffered a brain hemorrhage in his sleep early Saturday morning, probably caused by a seizure, a lingering side-effect of when he was attacked near Ohio State's campus over a year ago. I can't help but see that as a form of murder.
The two weeks that have passed have been grueling for me as I've soared highs, trying to interpolate what's been taken, and plunged depths, drowning as I attempted to fathom what's been lost. I've found solace in great friends, both in my own and in Andy's; knowing how well he was loved, despite his youth, has been a great comfort, but it has also been a source of sorrow.
When I think of Andy, his constant smiles and laughter spring instantly to mind. He always searched for the levity in everything, and I can't think of a moment when he wished ill on anyone. Rather the opposite, he often expressed concern or sympathy for those around him, always wanting to lighten the mood. Between spouting non sequiturs and using his goofy laugh, he almost always succeeded. I can't express how many boring afternoons spent at home Andy saved by simply being Andy, or how many holiday dinners, or car rides, or summer afternoons raking the lawn.
I never told him this, but I consider Andy to be a better person than I am. I'm shy to a fault, even among friends, withdrawn, introspective, and in constant need of barriers in some misguided attempt to protect myself. But Andy, he was exuberant and uplifting, happiest amongst others and always eager to laugh and comfort. Not to say he was faultless, as none of us are, but surely Andy's flaws as a person number far less than my own. And I'm proud he lived this way, and eternally grateful. I hope that one day I can be as open and as warm and as good a person as my brother.
Going home for his funeral was the hardest thing I've ever had to do because he wasn't there to cheer me up. I can't imagine what going back in the future will be like, after the reality of this loss has fully sunken in, but I know that not a day will go by in which I won't wish I had Andy to talk to. To laugh with. Our whole lives, we've been Aaron and Andy; now I'm alone.
Goodbye, Andy. I could really use a good laugh right now. I miss you so much, but I hope that you're with Mom and you're happy, and that someday we all will see each other again. Until then, know that your big brother loves you very much.
Goodbye.
January 12, 1988 - February 21, 2009
When Mom died almost eight years ago, it was a severe blow to our family. It personally sent me into a such a state of denial and depression that for six months I truly believed it to be some sort of twisted practical joke and was incapable of talking about it for any length of time (to anyone) for over two years. The one major positive that came out of that ordeal was that it forced Andy, my little brother, and I to get over some of our petty sibling squabbles and be there for each other. That's not to say we never fought after that, but there was always a sense that we could count on one another whenever the going got rough or when one of us needed a quick laugh. We were brothers, and no matter what life would throw at us, we knew that we would help each other get through it.
Which is why when I received a phone call early in the morning two Sundays ago, I didn't just get the news that no big brother wants to hear; I got the absolutely worst and most horrible news possible:
Andy had died.
He had just turned 21 in January. He'd finally found a major he was interested in. He was so happy. So young. There was so much that he had yet to do with his life, so much to see. There was so much for us to do together -- weddings, crashing Hollywood parties, cross-country road trips, and undoubtedly more rides at Cedar Point.
The coroners determined he suffered a brain hemorrhage in his sleep early Saturday morning, probably caused by a seizure, a lingering side-effect of when he was attacked near Ohio State's campus over a year ago. I can't help but see that as a form of murder.
The two weeks that have passed have been grueling for me as I've soared highs, trying to interpolate what's been taken, and plunged depths, drowning as I attempted to fathom what's been lost. I've found solace in great friends, both in my own and in Andy's; knowing how well he was loved, despite his youth, has been a great comfort, but it has also been a source of sorrow.
When I think of Andy, his constant smiles and laughter spring instantly to mind. He always searched for the levity in everything, and I can't think of a moment when he wished ill on anyone. Rather the opposite, he often expressed concern or sympathy for those around him, always wanting to lighten the mood. Between spouting non sequiturs and using his goofy laugh, he almost always succeeded. I can't express how many boring afternoons spent at home Andy saved by simply being Andy, or how many holiday dinners, or car rides, or summer afternoons raking the lawn.
I never told him this, but I consider Andy to be a better person than I am. I'm shy to a fault, even among friends, withdrawn, introspective, and in constant need of barriers in some misguided attempt to protect myself. But Andy, he was exuberant and uplifting, happiest amongst others and always eager to laugh and comfort. Not to say he was faultless, as none of us are, but surely Andy's flaws as a person number far less than my own. And I'm proud he lived this way, and eternally grateful. I hope that one day I can be as open and as warm and as good a person as my brother.
Going home for his funeral was the hardest thing I've ever had to do because he wasn't there to cheer me up. I can't imagine what going back in the future will be like, after the reality of this loss has fully sunken in, but I know that not a day will go by in which I won't wish I had Andy to talk to. To laugh with. Our whole lives, we've been Aaron and Andy; now I'm alone.
Goodbye, Andy. I could really use a good laugh right now. I miss you so much, but I hope that you're with Mom and you're happy, and that someday we all will see each other again. Until then, know that your big brother loves you very much.
Goodbye.
January 12, 1988 - February 21, 2009Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Schmoscars
A couple of thoughts after seeing the nominations:
The Dark Knight absolutely deserved a Best Picture nod. A win would have been debatable, but a nod is undeniable. For universal acclaim, production quality, and ambition within its genre. A disgrace that it was snubbed. I've not seen all the nominees yet, but the hatred seems centered on The Reader.
Even more egregious: Synecdoche, New York! Where in the hell are its nominations for Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay? Quite possibly the most interesting and affecting film of the year gets Jack Shit.
Right now, I'm pulling for Slumdog Millionaire. It's the only film nominated right now that isn't meant to be Oscar-bait, and it'd be nice to see Danny Boyle recognized.
The Dark Knight absolutely deserved a Best Picture nod. A win would have been debatable, but a nod is undeniable. For universal acclaim, production quality, and ambition within its genre. A disgrace that it was snubbed. I've not seen all the nominees yet, but the hatred seems centered on The Reader.
Even more egregious: Synecdoche, New York! Where in the hell are its nominations for Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay? Quite possibly the most interesting and affecting film of the year gets Jack Shit.
Right now, I'm pulling for Slumdog Millionaire. It's the only film nominated right now that isn't meant to be Oscar-bait, and it'd be nice to see Danny Boyle recognized.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
A few contemporary thoughts while procrastinating
I'm attempting my very best to avoid finishing my first film review, so I thought I'd share some thoughts I've had today.
I'm really exciting about finally owning a car. I took a gander at my future pride and joy, a 2002 Nissan Altima, yesterday afternoon. I hope to have it in hand in a week or so, though some logistical details (*ahem insurance *ahem) still need to be worked out. Here's a pic I took:
On a slightly different track, I've just read an article debating the schism between so-called "hardcore" and "casual" gamers. The article itself seemed to be a rallying cry for the hardcores to calm themselves and listen to reason instead of bemoaning the dumbing down of their beloved pastime for the masses, while theorizing that the distinction between the two is far more complicated than one might think.
I concur with the article, and am appalled at the simplicity of the hardcore argument. Truly, the example put forth in the article from their camp was that because "Gears of War 2" had its default, easiest difficult made more accessible, the game was diminished. Having not played the game (I wasn't a particularly big fan of the first in the series), I won't claim to be an authority figure, but I do remember that the first had selectable difficulty modes, and the article seemed to indicate that the second game does as well? If this is so, what is the argument? What is wrong with having a new, easier difficulty for beginners? Why should they be unable to play the game that you enjoy? To keep it more exclusive for your macho ass? If you think it's too easy, play on one of the harder difficulties! Surely, as an experienced hardcore gamer, you wouldn't even think of touching that default beginner's difficulty anyway. If that's the best example they can provide, it's a total non-argument.
Personally, I do view myself as a "casual" gamer. I play games as entertainment, as one of several forms that I enjoy. I measure my enjoyment based on the overall experience, which, more often than not, is severely hampered by a severe difficulty. I'm not a fan of trying the same puzzle, boss, or section of terrain for more than an hour of repetition; I consider that to be a form of torture.
Frankly, a lot of "hardcore" gaming -- collecting every last achievement, completing the secret fifty level dungeon, repeating the same 80-hour game seven different times just to watch an ending with a new 10-second tag -- seems like masochism. Not to mention, many of the hardcore genres seem to be stuck in a perpetual rut. After all, how many more "space marines" shooters do we need? Oh, sure, you've added cover and squad mechanics, but you're still just going around shooting hideous beasts until they explode in fountains of blood. It's getting old.
Speaking of gratuitous, pointless violence, I came across this today. The story is heartbreaking; reading about it is bad enough, but watching the video is very tough. I would read the article before attempting the video to provide the proper context. I could only stand to watch about half. If, after that, you don't have some reservations about what's going on over there, I would postulate that perhaps you're not a human being.
What a world we live in.
I'm really exciting about finally owning a car. I took a gander at my future pride and joy, a 2002 Nissan Altima, yesterday afternoon. I hope to have it in hand in a week or so, though some logistical details (*ahem insurance *ahem) still need to be worked out. Here's a pic I took:
On a slightly different track, I've just read an article debating the schism between so-called "hardcore" and "casual" gamers. The article itself seemed to be a rallying cry for the hardcores to calm themselves and listen to reason instead of bemoaning the dumbing down of their beloved pastime for the masses, while theorizing that the distinction between the two is far more complicated than one might think.I concur with the article, and am appalled at the simplicity of the hardcore argument. Truly, the example put forth in the article from their camp was that because "Gears of War 2" had its default, easiest difficult made more accessible, the game was diminished. Having not played the game (I wasn't a particularly big fan of the first in the series), I won't claim to be an authority figure, but I do remember that the first had selectable difficulty modes, and the article seemed to indicate that the second game does as well? If this is so, what is the argument? What is wrong with having a new, easier difficulty for beginners? Why should they be unable to play the game that you enjoy? To keep it more exclusive for your macho ass? If you think it's too easy, play on one of the harder difficulties! Surely, as an experienced hardcore gamer, you wouldn't even think of touching that default beginner's difficulty anyway. If that's the best example they can provide, it's a total non-argument.
Personally, I do view myself as a "casual" gamer. I play games as entertainment, as one of several forms that I enjoy. I measure my enjoyment based on the overall experience, which, more often than not, is severely hampered by a severe difficulty. I'm not a fan of trying the same puzzle, boss, or section of terrain for more than an hour of repetition; I consider that to be a form of torture.
Frankly, a lot of "hardcore" gaming -- collecting every last achievement, completing the secret fifty level dungeon, repeating the same 80-hour game seven different times just to watch an ending with a new 10-second tag -- seems like masochism. Not to mention, many of the hardcore genres seem to be stuck in a perpetual rut. After all, how many more "space marines" shooters do we need? Oh, sure, you've added cover and squad mechanics, but you're still just going around shooting hideous beasts until they explode in fountains of blood. It's getting old.
Speaking of gratuitous, pointless violence, I came across this today. The story is heartbreaking; reading about it is bad enough, but watching the video is very tough. I would read the article before attempting the video to provide the proper context. I could only stand to watch about half. If, after that, you don't have some reservations about what's going on over there, I would postulate that perhaps you're not a human being.
What a world we live in.
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