Paul Thomas Anderson

One of my favorite directors is coming out with a new film called "The Master."  He makes his films about people and carries out themes of love, redemption and obsession with complexity and style.  Here are two teaser trailers for "The Master."

And here are a few reasons why you should get excited:

(From "Boogie Nights" - Drug deal gone wrong)

(From "Magnolia" - Opening scene, there are no coincidences)

(From "Punch Drunk Love" - The chase for  love) 

(From "There Will Be Blood" - We have a sinner) 

Call me. Maybe.

This song has been my head for the past couple of weeks.  Not my typical taste, but it's super catchy, and brings out the teen age girl within me.  Here is a verse-by-verse commentary. 

I threw a wish in the well,

Don't ask me, I'll never tell

I looked to you as it fell,

and now you're in my way

First, I don’t think you throw wishes into wells.  But I’m probably being too demanding on her lyrical imagery. 

Second, good move on not telling, because we know wishes don’t come true otherwise.  But, I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell us anyways.

I trade my soul for a wish,

pennies and dimes for a kiss

I wasn't looking for this,

but now you're in my way

Is she trying to say that her soul is worth pennies and dimes?  Or maybe she’s trying to say what she is really wishing for is change!  That’s actually pretty good.  And I’m not really sure what she is ‘looking for,’ or what exactly ‘this’ but I’m thinking sight and the act of seeing is a pretty heavy theme.

Your stare was holdin',

Ripped jeans, skin was showin'

Hot night, wind was blowin'

Where you think you're going, baby?

She's still trying to figure out the whole 'looking' thing, regardless, this guy won’t lose any staring contests.  Good for him, women are attracted to winners.

When I was younger my mom would cut up my denim jeans and make them into jean shorts.  I thought at the time she was just trying to be frugal, but I guess she was actually trying to find me a woman.  Thanks mom!

Hey, I just met you,

and this is crazy,

but here's my number,

so call me, maybe?

Crazy?  She almost sounds apologetic.  You know who wasn’t apologetic?   Beyonce.  Embrace the love. 

For the longest time I wasn’t sure if there was a comma in that last line.  I was hoping this song was a metaphysical treatise on identity and assertiveness.

It's hard to look right,

at you baby,

but here's my number,

so call me, maybe?

I can totally relate.  This is why I don’t have mirrors in my house.  And this is also why I squint a lot.

And all the other boys,

try to chase me,

but here's my number,

so call me, maybe?

She’s the one doing the pursuing.  Nice.  A girl that knows what she wants.  At some point Daniel Day Lewis is going to get tired and give up. 

You took your time with the call,

I took no time with the fall

You gave me nothing at all,

but still, you're in my way

Patience is indeed a virtue.  Playing hard to get, smart move.  Or he just lost the number. 

These are probably the saddest lines in the whole song.  But it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all…

I beg, and borrow and steal

At first sight and it's real

I didn't know I would feel it,

but it's in my way

Moral of the story: blind people can’t fall in love, but poor people can. Sorry Stevie Wonder.  You're blind and you're rich.  But keep believing. 

Before you came into my life

I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad

I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life

I missed you so bad

And you should know that

I missed you so, so bad

This is a perfect example of so stupid, it’s smart.  Essentially, love is timeless.  Love does not stick to a linear nor logical progression and why should it?  Profound, deep, and a little bit dyslexic, it’s why this song is so amazing.  

The Weekend Review in Sports

What did this weekend in sports tell me about my life? A lot.

The U.S. Open – Who doesn’t love the climactic, tension heavy, engaging purity and intensity of golf? At work we are doing a fantasy golf league for each of the four majors. Pick three golfers, and the one with the best cumulative score wins. There is money involved. Not to say I wouldn’t be enthralled with golf otherwise, but gambling definitely makes sports much more interesting. If I need not be a good steward, I would gamble so much. But it’s not gambling if you’re certain you’ll win. Which I did. Here were my golfers: Jason Dufner, Matt Kuchar, Rickie Fowler.

Golf is more interesting when you gamble because the old adage is true: where your money is, your heart will be also.

The Chicago Cubs and the Boston Red Sox – Last night I watched the final two innings of the Cubs-Red Sox game, and realized that I have yet to watch a complete Cubs’ game this season. I’m becoming one of those apathetic-bandwagon fans. Ugh. But it’s not entirely my fault, right? They’re literally the worst team in baseball right now. The bottom of the ninth was indicative of their season, of my life and expectations as a Cubs’ fan. Cubs losing 3 to 7, and then get three straight men on base providing a meaningless, irrelevant sliver of optimism. They then proceed to play into three straight outs, scoring only once on a sac-fly losing 7 to 4.

This season will ultimately prove my where loyalty lies. Trials produce perseverance, and refine the true genuineness of faith and fandom.

The NBA Finals – My faith in Lebron James and the Miami Heat is quite fickle. Multiple times during a game I will sink my head into my hands and mutter, ‘Oh my gosh it’s over.’ In large part my doubt stems from the counterpart superstars. The intensity of Russell Westbrook reminds me of a 2006-Dwyane Wade. And every single time Kevin Durant has the basketball there is no doubt in my mind that he will score. Some times I even believe that the basketball gods – admiring the sheer beauty of his shots – will rewrite the rules and reward each basket its own point value. In all, I just want to witness greatness. Lebron James is like nothing we have ever seen in a basketball player. It would echo the curse of Achilles if this basketball man warrior would fail to reach echelon of success.

People want to see Lebron fulfill his natural gifting and talent. We all know that such a calling is irrevocable. The spiritual gift of basketball should not be wasted.

Dale Earnhardt Jr. Wins – Born and bred into a NASCAR loving family. Although I’m very much a casual fan of the sport. (yes, sport, indeed) I will always have a heart for NASCAR. True American. Here was my seven-year-old hierarchy: God, family, Dale Earnhardt, Garth Brooks. After Earnhardt died, his son, Jr. inherited all of his father’s fans and expectations. The burden of both have proved difficult to live up to – so it’s nice to see him in the winner’s circle once more.

We can only do what we see our father doing. – Happy Father’s Day.

Stories

I stumbled across this story telling troupe called The Moth, in which they invite real people to tell their real stories.  (a la This American Life)  This video is the first one I watched.  I love it because it shows that forgiveness truly is a miracle.  Coincidentally, this man is also a carpenter by trade.

The Worst Thing I've Ever Done

On the front page of the Des Moines Register there lay an article introducing Burger King’s next Frankenstenian masterpiece, the bacon sundae.  My first and immediate thought: I’m having one today.  Such a creation has some of my favorite things: bacon, ice cream, shame, and a promise for an early, heart-attack-diabetic-shock-induced death. 

I invited my friend Anna Aderton, who was waiting for her husband Dan to return from Thailand.  If there was one thing I knew about events like these, it’s that misery loves company. 

When I was in high school, I had a similar experience at Wendy’s and their infamous Baconator.  (THE BACONATOR!  THEY’RE PURPOSELY REFERENCING A WORD THAT CONNOTATES KILLING AND DEATH!  THEY’RE NOT EVEN TRYING TO HIDE THE FACT THAT IT WILL INDEED KILL YOU!)  My friend Connor and I ate a Baconator for lunch and it single handedly wrecked my day, it was like an immediate hangover.  I was depressed for the next week, and watched Dawson’s Creek reruns in my basement.

I picked up Anna, who out of some childlike, Christmas-morning, restlessness had already walked to the corner of the street.  “I’m so excited I got to come!” she exclaimed as she entered the car.   A man’s sin, one can bear alone.   But woe to the one who causes another to stumble.  The millstone had tightened.  I was now in the hands of a living God.

After the front-page dedication, and knowing man’s lust for all things evil, I was surprised to see the parking lot relatively empty.  We walked in, and there was no line either. I wasn’t sure if this was encouraging or ominous.  There was no fan fare, no grand banner, no advertising, it wasn’t even on the menu.  It was as if Burger King knew that it had gone too far this time, and even they were ashamed. 

Cathy, our sweet server, took our order.  We asked if she had made a bacon sundae yet, and she said no.  Had she tried one though? “Oh goodness, no.”  Cathy went over and began to make something she had never made before, and hopefully would never make again.  She leaned over and squinted at the directions, pausing now and then, as if trying to ignore the guilt of being an accomplice to such a horrifying reality.  I half expected her to go to the back and return with a hazmat suit.  She constructed the beast carefully, like any other sundae, but then picked up the bowl of bacon, and placed each piece down slowly, the weight of the slabs making her wince, she looked at us with mournful eyes.  And like Eve handing over the fruit to Adam, gave us over to our deaths.

Death itself is not merely satisfied with taking away life, but also stripping away all humanity, all dignity.  We went into the playroom, alone with our shame.  Maybe we believed that we could conjure up an innocent ignorance, a youthful exemption of all guilt and shame.  In its place, however, was only an empty and eerie irony as the bright reds, blues and greens surrounded us with the hellish echoes of Sponge Bob Square Pants squealing from the television. 

We ate our fill.  Anna stated the guilty ambivalence of regret and unrepentance: “That was really good.  But I’m never going to eat another one again.” 

I carried an internal dialogue with my once close friend:

[Jake awakens from a greasy, disorienting coma]

Jake: Who’s there!  Who is it!

Voice: It’s me.  Have you forgotten my voice already?

Jake: Dignity?  Wha… What are you doing here?  Don’t look at me!

Dignity:  How did it get this far? 

Jake [beginning to cry]: I’m so sorry.  I don’t know!

Dignity: My poor, poor friend.  What have you done? 

Jake: IT WAS SO GOOD!

Dignity: This one is over the line.

Jake: I LOVE BACON SO MUCH!

Dignity: And do you not love me?

Jake: Please, don’t leave me!

Dignity: I have not forsaken you, but you have forsaken me.

Jake: Give me another chance!

Dignity: There are some things that are beyond forgiveness.

Jake: Aah!  Don’t say that.  Whe-  where are my pants?

Dignity: I’m leaving. 

The Monster

The point of no return.

So delicious.

The remnants of sin.

Hell.

Favorite Sports Commercials

During the NBA playoffs I've seen some pretty sweet commercials.  There are certain commercials that really intrigue me as I like the art of story telling in such a confined space and time.  Here are some of my all time favorite sports commercials that get me excited.  I get chills.  At times I may or may not tear up due to the sheer emotion that wells up in soul.

David Fincher's "Fate" for Nike.  Everything leads up to a single moment.

And then we have Michael Mann's companion piece:

I also love commercials that dream dreams, and think thoughts that we never would see in real life.  Like Michael Jordan playing against Michael Jordan:

Nike does it again with their "What If" commercial:

This is an NBA promo for Christmas, and it's just awesome. 

Finally, we have Tiger Woods.  I'm not a Woods fan per say, but he and Nike have teamed up to make some pretty sweet commercials.  I love these commercials because it unites the themes of identity and father-son relationship so well.  What's more affirming than your father speaking into your identity?

(Especially during times of trial)

This one is probably my favorite.  I get teary eyed every time. 

How to maintain your blog

A lot of people start blogs with the intention of consistency and regularity. They have high hopes of daily posts, and maybe when times are busy, a post a week.  They may start off strong but in the end their blog posts begin to dry up to maybe once every month to eventually never blogging ever.  (Which is probably a good thing as there are a lot of boring people out there).  (Just kidding.  Everyone has a story)  (But seriously, some stories are better than others.) I’m even guilty of this trend.  As you can see my May posts were few and far between.  Here are some tips to keep your blog afloat and increase that weak and dying post count. 

1.     Not everything you have to write about needs to be clever, witty, or insightful.  – Everyone thinks that he or she is the funniest or deepest or smartest person to have existed.  Not true.  This is my problem.  I don’t write because I feel the need to be super clever.  Just write and something will come of it.  As the saying goes, even poop can be gold.

2.     Don’t think about how many people are reading your blog – Numbers aren’t everything.  But they’re really nice.  But then it begins to add pressure to ideas and then you freeze and come up with nothing. 

3.     Don’t proofread, don’t care about grammar – One of the major reasons I don’t blog as often is because it takes me way too long time to write a post as I’m meticulously proofreading.  The majority of your readers aren't even going to be smart enough to cacth your mistakes anyways.

Sub note: Here’s a free lesson I’ve learned (despite many corrective comments on pretty much every paper I wrote in high school and college), use commas everywhere.

4.     Use a quote as a post – Easy and simple.  Quote someone, put it on a colorful background and bam.  Got a good one.  And if you’re Christian (or even if you’re not) just make the quote by C.S Lewis – even if it’s fake (especially if it’s fake).  It’ll make you sound really smart, and it’ll get you a lot of followers. 

5.     Post a song – Another one that is easy.   Middle school mixtape number 8: Love You For Reals Girl.

6.     Post a picture – Any picture, because at worst it’s a bad picture, and then you just say that it’s something abstract.  So deep. Too deep. Real deep.

7.     Just write about every moment of everyday of your life.  – This may seem mundane and it may seem boring and irrelevant but you’ll eventually strike gold.  If anything, tell a story about your day and then add a Bible verse at the end to make it seem like you ambiguously learned something. For example:

“Today I brushed my teeth and I was reminded of the cleanliness and redemptive quality of the gospel.  As John writes: “Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” – John 15:27b 

8.     Make a list.  – Everyone loves lists and countdowns and you can drag it out real slow like.  A post explaining the list, a post for honorable mentions, and then a single post for each number.  Puff it up baby.  (I should have done that with this post…)

9.     Plagiarize – No one checks sources these days.  You’re not writing a thesis.  It’s ok.  Just steal it.  Intellectual property is a lie from hell. 

10.  Finally, remember that blogging in its nature is narcissistic, so embrace it.  A lot of people passively admit this (cough links on Facebook… cough), and few will explicitly express their self-absorbed intentions.  Write a lot, and don’t be ashamed.  Begin every blog with this sentence: “This will be the greatest thing you will have ever read.”  Whether this is true or not, it will at least give you the momentary confidence to complete a post.

“The most beautiful thing about blogging, is the metaphorical relevance of our desperate search for truth.  And search we must.” – C.S. Lewis (from Prince Caspian)

The Art Walk

Many questions, few answers

Dancing

Truth.

Newly Married!

                                      
                                     

Among other things, I'm afraid of animals.

The other night my driver side window, rolled down maybe a third of the way, had invited a bird to fly into my car.   As I approached my door, I saw a flutter of feathers as the creature panicked at the arrival of a new intruder.  I panicked too, cause I’ve never had a bird in may car, and it’s not something I particularly value. 

I panicked because at first I thought it was a bat.  Or maybe a mechanized bomb disguised as some flying creature. 

Nevertheless I was afraid for a handful of seconds as I cautiously opened my door, to release my enemy to freedom. 

I realize, that maybe I panicked, because I don’t care too much for animals. 

 And then I remembered talking to a friend who told me that he has a fear of things flying around his head.  Maybe his fear became my fear.

I was creeped out.  I sat in my car feeling a little dirty, figuring out what I knew about bird flu.  I looked and saw that the bird, possibly in its distress, or simply revenge (even though it was his fault for flying into my car) had deuced on my dashboard. 

I shook my head, mostly in shame.  Fear brings out the worst (see dashboard).  I would not typically categorize myself as a man motivated by fear.  But there are certain moments where my natural instincts have no time and no desire to wait for my moral understandings and my code of ethics and beliefs.  There is bird poop on my dashboard begging the deeper drudges of existence to be mined.  Fight or flight, the bird is biologically constrained even when it wants to do the former.  What is my excuse?  My wingless body shrugs.  What can I do?  What’s the difference between fear and wisdom?  Lines can be thin.  Like my muscles.  I’m a lover not a fighter.  Ah.  There it is.

The line is love, for perfect love casts out all fear.

But for some reason I still won’t go on roller coasters, or swim in the deep end, or climb ladders – tall ladders, or not freeze when I see an unexpected animal cross my path.  But no one wants to be afraid.  No one who fears, can truly love.  Fear is self-preservation.  Love is selfless.  That’s what I need, I need more love.  I’ll pray that I can love birds in my car.  Ask and you will receive. 

I drove home in the night, telling myself that in the morning I would go and clean up my dashboard.