May 1st, 2002. Wednesday

 
    The most exciting development halfway through the week was the acquisition of a new computer at work. I am no longer shackled by the Compaq Presario that's been here since probably 1996. Now I have a computer that can actually play sound files. So I've spent a good amount of time on Audiogalaxy.com. But I can't think of anything to download. Any suggestions would be appreciated.

    Monday, at the night job, I was forced to watch three hours of Gilda Radner-inspired programming. The last two hours were the made-for-tv movie, which was pretty horrid. You standard made-for-tv shlock. Plus, Gene Wilder already gives me the creeps, and seeing someone pretending to be him and doing his creepy voice was too much. So I worked until 12:30 that night, and I've been pretty tired since.

    Last night after work, I met Rodzilla at the Landmark Sunshine Theatre. It's a relatively new theatre on Houston Street that shows mostly independent films. I suppose it's a rival to the Angelika, which used to have a monopoly on downtown art-house flicks, You can actually see the Angelika from the Sunshine. The Sunshine has much better theatres than the Angelika. For one thing, the theatres are a standard movie theatre size. The screens at the Angelika are pretty tiny, and the rooms long and narrow. Plus, at the Sunshine, you can't hear the noise from the F train that pervades the theatres at the Angelika. Lastly, and maybe most importantly, the Sunshine offers a wide array of popcorn toppings in addition to salt, free of charge. These are in the form of flavored powder and include: cajun seasoning, white cheddar, and nacho cheese flavor. So aces to the Sunshine.

    The reason for going to the Sunshine was to finally see Y Tu Mama Tambien, which we'd been trying to see since my birthday three weeks ago. Various scheduling conflicts and illnesses had prevented it. I'd heard wonderful things about it, and it was all true. A wonderful film. As good as it was, it was the little things that were almost as noteworthy. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I saw a film about or set in Mexico that portrayed Mexicans as normal people. Normally, they're the dirty, gringo-robbing banditos or drug dealers. Mexico is often more like "Mexico," where everything's dirty, people live in little hovels, and drink tequila. It was almost strange to see Mexico City portrayed like any other large city. Also, the characters were mostly of the euro-hispanic Mexican type, which was also something you don't see that much. The actors in the movie could've been out of a Spanish production of Kids.

    After spending two hours watching people smoke and drink, Rodzilla and I decided we should go to a bar. So we walked over to Ludlow and stopped in the Luna Lounge. It was empty when we got there, with only one person at the bar. There was a band setting up, and they played a few soungs for their soundcheck. An hour later they played a fairly loud set of pop rock. Imagine Jason Schwartman from Rushmore trying to sing Oasis-style songs. I say Oasis-style because they weren't anywhere as good. And I don't really like Oasis at all. The lead singer was even dressed in a brit-rock kind of zip-up warm-up jacket with stripes down the sleeves. Though the band did come up with some pretty decent hooks here and there. But there was nothing disctinctive about them whatsoever. They played that kind of music that's probably really fun to play and it makes you feel cool when you write it, but is pretty dull to watch. Plus, they had almost zero stage presence. Though I've always thought too little stage presence is better than too much. But I always did like those shoe-gazing bands. But man, even their guitars were boring. Indie-rockers shouldn't play Fender Telecasters, especially if you don't move your feet throughout the show. It's just a really boring looking guitar. The lead singer had a nice looking Les Paul, but that too seemed boring. And he wasn't good enough at the guitar to justify being that boring. All in all, their music wouldn't seem out of place accompanying a scene in a movie where Freddie Prinze, Jr. is running around franctically, looking for the girl he wasn't smart enough to hang on to. Maybe in an airport or something.

    Rodzilla and I spend a lot of our time together reviewing our past and wondering about our future, and reinforcing each other's egos while also subtly tearing them down. It's all part of this sick little thing we've got going; or that we're caught up in. I'm sad that she's leaving for Boston in the fall, but I think everyone knows that it's for the best. We're just in this odd spot right now, and a good clean break's the only way out.

    Whenever you see a movie like Y Tu Mama Tambien, you can always expect interesting conversations afterword. Rodzilla especially likes to do a lot of out-loud thinking. She's always been better than me at dissecting and critiquing movies. I always need a few hours to process exactly what I saw, whereas coming out of the theatre she just goes on and on and on about what she loved about it. Whenever she does this I feel obligated to think extra hard about whether or not I actually like the movie or not, or if I'm just nodding my head for the sake of agreement. Usually when I'm not sure, it just makes me feel dumb.

    So after the Luna Lounge, we stopped in at the Belgian Fries place on Houston St. Rodzilla felt bad sitting in the store because I didn't tip the guy after he gave us free sauce. I thought it was free to begin with. But he gave us two. So she thought that deserved a big fat tip. The thought didn't even cross my mind. Anyway, so we left, and were forced to wander the East Village with a bag of fries and sauce and no where to eat them. This, of course, didn't stop Rodzilla from chowing down. This instant food gratification of hers has always been near the top of the list in things that really irk me. So solely because we needed someplace to sit and eat, we went to another bar. We walked up to the Edge on 3rd st., ordered a few beers, and ate our fries. The sauces were good. Tartar sauce and garlic sauce. The Belgian Fries tasted like just plain fries. Nothing special about them at all. If you're on Houston Street, I wouldn't recommend them.

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