Monday, September 08, 2003
Hiking History XII
Forgotten NY documents the "infrastructure of a lost metropolis," offering photographs of old advertising, cobble stones, outdated signs, and abandoned hospitals. Deeply researched, the resource is an amazing project. Does anyone know of anything similar for Boston?
Among the Literati L
One of my favorite bloggers name drops one of my favorite young writers and former co-workers. Small world, smaller.
The Free-Range Comic Book Project XXXI
This is an installment of Media Diet's Free-Range Comic Book Project:
For more information on this project, please refer to this Media Diet entry.
Disavowed #2 (Homage/Image, April 2000). Writers: Brandon Choi and Mike Heisler. Artist: Tommy Lee Edwards. Location: On the freebie table at SPX.
Doom 2099 #6 (Marvel, June 1993). Writer: John Francis Moore. Artist: Pat Broderick. Location: On the freebie table at SPX.
Doom's IV #3 (Image, September 1994). Writers: Mark Pacella and Kurt Hathaway. Artist: Mark Pacella. Location: On the freebie table at SPX.
Dragon Ball Z Part 3 #4 (2000?). Writer and Artist: Akira Toriyama. Translator: Lillian Olsen. Location: On the freebie table at SPX.
For more information on this project, please refer to this Media Diet entry.
Thursday, September 04, 2003
Technofetishism XLV
I now have my iSight camera on hand and operating. We've opened some firewall ports, and audio and video (presumably) now works outside of the office. My AIM username is h3athrow. If you use iChat AV, feel free to ping me when I'm online. This is pretty darn cool. As my friend Davo says, "The future is now."
The Restaurant I Ate at Last Night XXI
When my friend Joanie was in town not too long ago, she recommended that I meet a friend of hers. We messaged via Friendster a couple of times and then took the conversation to email. Last night, we met face to face for the first time. The setting? The West Side Lounge on Mass. Ave. between Harvard and Porter squares. I don't spend a lot of time in that stretch of Mass. Ave. since I moved to Central Square, and it's interesting to see how posh it's gotten. West Side Lounge, while posh, also focuses intently on the nosh. Attracting a clientele that's a mix of after-work business people who live in the neighborhood, older area residents (which was nice to see), and -- later -- a younger crowd, the restaurant and bar is highly designed and darkly lit but not at all pretentious. Unfortunately, my new friend had already eaten dinner , so I ate alone -- we'd discussed coffee or drinks, but I hadn't eaten, so there we go. I was so glad I ate there. The menu is reportedly largely Mediterranean in nature, but I opted for the salmon dish. The salmon was cooked well and seasoned sensibly, and it rested on a bed of absolutely fabulous garlic mashed potatoes. The accompanying side salad didn't do too much for me, though. We sat at the bar, which is relatively short -- my friend described it as comfortable enough that you can almost always get a seat, but you're lucky if you do -- and the booths looked even better. Cozy, intimate. Perfect just to meet up with friends who don't always follow the funk -- or for a quieter, romantic dinner, perhaps. If you like Christopher's but don't quite go for Temple Bar, try the West Side Lounge. It's stylish enough that it's appropriate for a special night out -- but comfortable enough that you could eat there every night, easy.
Comics and Community XVI
After some internal debate, I've decided to make the trip to Bethesda, Maryland, this weekend for SPX. As much as I could use the time at home, this is an opportunity I can't quite pass up. Should be a hoot! If any Media Dieticians are going, let me know, and we can try to meet up.
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
Rock Shows of Note LXXV
After work yesterday, I went to the Million Year Picnic for the signing featuring Jason, creator of such wonderful books as Ssssshh and Hey Wait. I hung out with Stacie, Jef, Dan, and Tony for awhile, and then Greg Cook showed up. Four of us mosied over to Charlie's Kitchen to "edit" this year's edition of the Somerville Comics Collaborative's project. While last year's edition was pretty easy to organize, this year, it was quite a challenge. Because the table was crowded almost all day, we ended up with several plotlines and recurring characters making appearances in each story thread. But with a couple of transition pages -- one contributed by Greg -- inserted, I think it'll make sense in the end. But, boy, was this year's comic confusing!
Around 9 or so, after eating dinner, Tony, Jason, Ben, and Stacie made their way to Charlie's as well, so we all hung out until they were about to start karaoke. Then Jef and I walked down Mass. Ave. to TT the Bear's for the Scout Niblett show. We arrived a little ways into the second band's set, having missed all of Joy's performance. Joy comprises former members of 71 Sunbeam and the Jack McCoys, which are in the process of breaking up. "Aren't Joy and the Jack McCoys basically the same band?" I asked Matt Savage. "All you did was take some letters out and smash the words together!" He replied, "Pretty much." I was sad to miss their set.
That said, last night's show was the loudest show I've ever gone to at TT's in terms of conversation on the bar side. It seems that all of the second band's friends came out and then stuck around to socialize after the set. Usually, I don't notice this -- or get irritated -- but it was frustrating given Niblett's solo, scaled-down approach to songwriting. A guitarist and drummer, Niblett sings scarring songs of anger, loss, and frustration, reminding me slightly of Cat Power, Bjork, and perhaps Sinead O'Connor and Lois. Her voice is extremely intense, and her guitar playing just as harsh. My favorite songs were the ones she sang while playing drums. Niblett is an argument for simplicity. No drum machine. No tape. Just a too-pure voice and a single instrument. The drum songs got some cheers from the carousing conversationalists, and I especially appreciated the pieces about Linus from Peanuts, the song about how we're all going to die, and a couple of others I don't recall.
The show wrapped up around 11:30, which made it a welcome early evening given Monday night's late Labor Day cookout. Jill and Jef headed home, and I walked back to Church Corner to read Jason's new "Meow Baby" mini and hit the hay. A fun and productive night.
Around 9 or so, after eating dinner, Tony, Jason, Ben, and Stacie made their way to Charlie's as well, so we all hung out until they were about to start karaoke. Then Jef and I walked down Mass. Ave. to TT the Bear's for the Scout Niblett show. We arrived a little ways into the second band's set, having missed all of Joy's performance. Joy comprises former members of 71 Sunbeam and the Jack McCoys, which are in the process of breaking up. "Aren't Joy and the Jack McCoys basically the same band?" I asked Matt Savage. "All you did was take some letters out and smash the words together!" He replied, "Pretty much." I was sad to miss their set.
That said, last night's show was the loudest show I've ever gone to at TT's in terms of conversation on the bar side. It seems that all of the second band's friends came out and then stuck around to socialize after the set. Usually, I don't notice this -- or get irritated -- but it was frustrating given Niblett's solo, scaled-down approach to songwriting. A guitarist and drummer, Niblett sings scarring songs of anger, loss, and frustration, reminding me slightly of Cat Power, Bjork, and perhaps Sinead O'Connor and Lois. Her voice is extremely intense, and her guitar playing just as harsh. My favorite songs were the ones she sang while playing drums. Niblett is an argument for simplicity. No drum machine. No tape. Just a too-pure voice and a single instrument. The drum songs got some cheers from the carousing conversationalists, and I especially appreciated the pieces about Linus from Peanuts, the song about how we're all going to die, and a couple of others I don't recall.
The show wrapped up around 11:30, which made it a welcome early evening given Monday night's late Labor Day cookout. Jill and Jef headed home, and I walked back to Church Corner to read Jason's new "Meow Baby" mini and hit the hay. A fun and productive night.
Tuesday, September 02, 2003
The Movie I Watched Last Night LXXVII
The Skull
I couldn't sleep Friday night, so I set my alarm for 2 a.m. to watch this 1965 horror movie starring Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. Based on a short story by Robert Bloch, the slow-paced suspense expands on the mythos surrounding the Marquis de Sade. A phrenologist digs up his grave shortly after death to claim de Sade's skull. Possession of the skull leads to the demise of almost everyone who comes in contact with it. Cushing's character, a collector of supernatural esoterica, obtains a book about de Sade's life -- bound in human skin -- and then the skull. And all heck breaks loose. The plot is relatively plodding, and the special effects unconvincing. But the idea behind the movie -- and its ending -- are quite interesting. B-movie fare straight from Shock Theatre.
The Fog
Jef and Dave were right: This movie way predates Jamie Lee Curtis's emergence as a proper movie star. The 1980 John Carpenter film is a west-coast wave at the hidden history of a small town. On the 100th anniversary of the town's founding, a sour -- and sacriligous -- secret returns to lay claim on the future of the city and its citizens. While the special effects are next to nonexistent -- and highly dissatisfying -- the characterizations are quite believable, and the story is an intriguing one. I liked the sequences in which the heroes were trying to determine the fate of the dead -- and their seafaring vessels -- and several sections caused me to jump with surprise and fear (something the Skull failed to do). I also appreciated the sultry-voiced radio announcer, who practically narrated the progress of the killer fog from her lighthouse studio. The sea, lepers, hidden treasure, heavy weather, and an independent radio station: What more could you want?
I couldn't sleep Friday night, so I set my alarm for 2 a.m. to watch this 1965 horror movie starring Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. Based on a short story by Robert Bloch, the slow-paced suspense expands on the mythos surrounding the Marquis de Sade. A phrenologist digs up his grave shortly after death to claim de Sade's skull. Possession of the skull leads to the demise of almost everyone who comes in contact with it. Cushing's character, a collector of supernatural esoterica, obtains a book about de Sade's life -- bound in human skin -- and then the skull. And all heck breaks loose. The plot is relatively plodding, and the special effects unconvincing. But the idea behind the movie -- and its ending -- are quite interesting. B-movie fare straight from Shock Theatre.
The Fog
Jef and Dave were right: This movie way predates Jamie Lee Curtis's emergence as a proper movie star. The 1980 John Carpenter film is a west-coast wave at the hidden history of a small town. On the 100th anniversary of the town's founding, a sour -- and sacriligous -- secret returns to lay claim on the future of the city and its citizens. While the special effects are next to nonexistent -- and highly dissatisfying -- the characterizations are quite believable, and the story is an intriguing one. I liked the sequences in which the heroes were trying to determine the fate of the dead -- and their seafaring vessels -- and several sections caused me to jump with surprise and fear (something the Skull failed to do). I also appreciated the sultry-voiced radio announcer, who practically narrated the progress of the killer fog from her lighthouse studio. The sea, lepers, hidden treasure, heavy weather, and an independent radio station: What more could you want?
The Story of Spam V
With the SoBig virus continuing to hammer the Net, I came in after the holiday weekend to 400-plus emails diverted to my Deleted Items -- and 900-plus emails in my Inbox. But just now, a message crossed my transom that me smile:
I am not the father of a famous musician, but it sounds like an interesting project -- like the All Heaths group on Friendster. I think it's hilarious that he misspelled Sheryl Crow's name. If you're going to drop a name to lend credibility, spell it right, for chrissake.
Old Farts Band
Hello
Permit me to introduce myself. I am Sonnie Chamberlain the father of Drummer Matt Chamberlain. I am contacting as many of the fathers of famous musicians as I can to see if any of them play any thing. I am trying to get a band together of fathers. I talked to Sheral Crow's father yesterday and he is busy but said that if I can get something going he would like to play rhythm sometimes. I dont know if this email will reach anyone or not but was hoping by going threw you it may . I play drumms so not other drummers need apply. LOL If you know of anyone please ask them to contact me.
Sonnie Chamberlain
I am not the father of a famous musician, but it sounds like an interesting project -- like the All Heaths group on Friendster. I think it's hilarious that he misspelled Sheryl Crow's name. If you're going to drop a name to lend credibility, spell it right, for chrissake.
Newspaper Chase
On the way to the T this morning, I spied a new paper box in the row by the station entrance. Barstool Sports is a new free tabloid "by the common man, for the common man. Featuring a half-page Hooters ad below the fold, the first issue of this weekly outlines the editors' agenda -- sports, gambling, golfing, and "chasing short skirts." In addition, there's an NFL season preview, fantasy football tips, an advice column "to help us win over the ladies," a top 10 list of public golf courses, an essay about dealing with the "gambling god," and a review of Boston-area sports reporters and writers. Dated Aug. 27, it's a thin read at eight pages, and it's not really my cup of tea, but it's good to see a new paper in town. We'll see how it develops!
Rest in Peace II
My sister just called to tell me that Ruby Williams, one of our longest-running babysitters when we were children -- and a dear family friend -- died yesterday. She was 99. Her birthday wasn't too far away from mine, and I'll always remember her grilled cheese sandwiches. They were perfect. I'll miss you, Ruby.
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