Weekend Wrap-Up

So I guess I never posted this "weekend wrap-up." Pretty lame to add it more than half-way through the week, right? Well, not as lame as you. Read on for answers to all the pressing questions that have plagued you these past three days:

One thing I forgot to mention in my last post is that I unknowingly walked by Ben Affleck on the Common last Wednesday. I was mildly curious as to why so many people were gathered around to watch a pickup game of football ("Don't these people have anything better to do?"), but didn't stop to gawk and, therefore, never got the chance to exchange phone numbers with Ben. I suspect that this won't be the greatest regret I have in life.

I made a spirited rebound from this week's stomach bug, just in time for Doug's birthday on Saturday. To test my limits I decided to get talked into drinking all day, which could have gone horrifically awry but ended up being fantastic. In order of occurrence: We grilled some food, played crazy French bocce (it's bocce with metal balls), said goodbye to ex-coworker Maxine (who now heads to Thailand to buy cheap tailored suits before moving to the West Coast), talked to Maxine's mom about ballroom dancing, shot some pool, got maybe-too-amped talking about politics with Doug's roomies (including Popular Sarah and Affable Luke), and then rounded out the night with a solid drunken-kitchen-conversation. Doesn't that sound like everything I could have hoped for?

In other news, there's a sense of restlessness slowly building in my professional life. As always, though, I'm wrestling with how to address the issue, i.e. which direction I should be headed. (If you're reading this and know what I should do with my life, feel free to pipe up, as that'd really be a great help.) The plan is to get off my ass and take some classes this summer and fall. Of course I'll probably be wracked with guilt for having spent the money when it's so tight, but who knows. Maybe at some future date I'll look back on this and realize that it wasn't just floundering. That's the hope, in any case; to arrive in a glorious future and know that your past decisions brought you there, though you might not have realized it then. Nothing to do but have some faith, I s'pose - and then hope that faith is rewarded.

This Is a Call

Afflicted by yet another bout of illness most intermittently heinous, I find in my possession a great deal of free time and precious little energy to do anything with it. As evidence to the fact, I submit that over the past 48 hours I have accomplished nothing and learned the following three facts:

• The best daytime television program, hands down, is Martha Speaks
  
• The second best is Phineas and Ferb (A great show, but does it boast lexiconal canines? It cannot, and we must judge it accordingly.)
  
• Vomiting beats the hell out of diet and exercise for rapid and reliable weight loss

A fourth fact, unrelated to my bedridden condition, is that Matt and Eli found a place and are moving on May 15th. That means we need to step up our "Moving-Out/Breaking-of-the-Fellowship Party." Unfortunately, I do not have the energy for party planning (see above). I am wizened, almost on the eve of my 25th birthday, and as feeble of mind as I am of stomach. So the call goes out to one of you (a roommate, perhaps?); will you, disdaining glory, not take up the mantle of Party Planner? Or will you instead become an architect of merriment, the valorous flame that kindles joy in the hearts of men? I beseech you, noble soul, create the Facebook event that I am too lazy to make myself.

A Hail of Bullets

I've got some things I wanted to talk to you about. No, wait, it's nothing like that! Sorry, I didn't mean to make this sound like a break-up conversation. We're not breaking up. Things have been great with you, they really have! I just wanted to bring some stuff to your attention is all. I don't have too too much time to do it, though, so I've resorted to using drive-by bullet points. Hit the dirt!

• John Madden is hanging up the mike. I'm not sure how this affects the business at large, given his perhaps waning relevance. But sports fans will certainly miss him (quote Johnsen, who just found out looking over my shoulder: "Awww, now I hate football"). The guy's a legend. Heck, even I, living on the frozen Isle of Sportlessness, will regret his absence.
• Big Sam is back in town. Boston just got a little drunker.
• In what could be the only argument ever to be made against spam blockers, I was very nearly denied one of the most magical subject lines ever written: "Paris Hilton Pees Like Men"
  
• The pundits are all abuzz concerning ASU's shafting Obama on an honorary degree. I assume my readers are like-minded souls, and agree with me that this is at least somewhat disgraceful. The best reaction I've read so far comes from Marc Lamont Hill:"Barack Obama holds earned degrees from Columbia and Harvard, published two best-selling books, was the first black editor of Harvard Law Review, became the third black man elected to the Senate since Reconstruction, and, last I checked, was president of the United States. Barring an unexpected attempt to play point guard for the Washington Wizards, I think Obama has pretty much blown his load on the achievement side of things."
• Allow me one serious link (and a work-related plug) before I move onto yet greater depths of geekitude. Helen Benedict, the author of the linked NYT article, is a voice that I feel needs to be heard. She's an observer and critic of the war in Iraq who has written a book for Beacon Press concerning, specifically, the military's systemic misogyny and the horrific treatment of its female soldiers. She follows the stories of five women and their experiences, from enlistment through Iraq and back again. Her work is intelligent and heartbreaking, and, in my eyes, belongs with the likes of Chris Hedges.
  
• Super geekitude! (Note: Mute before watching, or be subjected to god-awful synth music)
  

  This video might not look like much, until you realize how it was rendered: it's procedurally generated video, meaning your computer's CPU and GPU create what you're seeing on-the-fly. In layman's terms, it is your computer creating art through math, all by itself. The benefits to this mode of production are two-fold: It obviates the armies of artists that are usually required to create the textures that go into digital world-building and it takes virtually no disk space. Do you know how large the file is that rendered that video? 4k. That's about the size of the text document I've just written. Pretty impressive.
  

• Because Mauro seemed to like the Braid artwork, here's another game that will knock you on your artist's cheeks: Scary Girl. I didn't find it overly entertaining, sadly, but it's incredibly slick and imaginative, full of characters I'd expect to see on Emily's handbag or some such hip thing.
  

Quirky Games + Easter = This Post

Easter came and went, with all the familiar hallmarks of the holiday: candy, beer, family, zombies, ham, and a 911 call. Not in that order, though, now that I think about it.

Whitney and Karen organized a pysanky party that drew roughly 400 women to our apartment. Kevin and I knew that this strong feminine presence, combined with a powerfully unmanly activity, posed a very real threat to our bachelor's pad. Luckily, we had a plan: by 12:30 pm we were drunk and ensconced in the TV room for an all-day Resident Evil 5 session. Our course seemed to shield us from any female attention we might otherwise have risked. (Unluckily, I spent most of that time expiring within the iron grip of murderous insects. Again and again my character died! Stabbed to death by giant, bipedal cockroaches.) Our protracted bout of zombie-murder served another purpose as well: Since Easter Sunday coincided with Somerville's zombie parade this year, it was imperative that we vent our anti-undead (pro-dead?) sentiment on Saturday, or risk a Bloody Sunday of shambling proportions. We can't help it; when we see a lurching gait and milky eyes, instinct just takes over.

Later that night Kevin and I went to get more beer. On our way to the beer store we saw a man careening this way and that.
"Ha, ha!" I said to Kevin, elbowing him in a most jovial fashion. "Here comes a man drunker than we!"
We continued on and bought overpriced beer at O'Brian's (which isn't as close to home as Somerville Wine and Spirits, but which is conveniently still-in-business). On our way home we noticed our inebriated friend, whom we had passed earlier, now reclining face-down in some bushes. This is when we called 911. We waited for the Fire Dept to arrive and confirm that he was A-OK before wordlessly disappearing into the night, like heroic Ninja Turtles (or, alternatively, Batmen).

The next morning I retreated to the suburbs of Danvers. Seeing my folks was great, especially since Elliot was able to make it out. (Coincidentally, I just yesterday listened to his radio show at UVM for the first time, "the graveyard shift with MC Beeftray." There's a streaming archive if you're interested in expanding his listenership, but he informs me that today may be his last show for the year, so listen now or forever hold your peace... er,well, hold your peace for the summer.) And... well, that's all I really have to tell you about family stuff. Minus the parenthetical comments, it doesn't amount to a whole heap of beans. Did you know that my parents are nice people? They are!
....Moving on.

I downloaded the demo for Braid the other day and was impressed. It's a much-buzzed-about, award-winning, indie title, so there were high hopes there. Picture a "Super Mario Bros." game that plays like a brain-teaser, where all laws of physics are malleable, time is fluid, and the artwork is inspired by A Lesson Is Learned (...and wow, holy fuck, I just found out that apparently the artwork was done by the artist of A Lesson Is Learned, David Hellman. Have I got an eye for art or what?).
As discovered on the brilliantly titled blog "Rock, Paper, Shotgun," Soulja Boy is apparently a fan of the game, as well. Is he high while playing? Certainly. Could that also be considered a point in the game's favor? I should say so!



In addition to Braid, I also played the abrupt, stupid, and totally hilarious Robot Dinosaurs That Shoot Beams When They Roar (also courtesy of RPS). Good for a lol, especially the intro, and especially if you're at work (note that sound effects are a prereq to maximize enjoyment).

Anyways, that's all for now. Hopefully post here again tomorrow.

Auditorium

I'm currently suffering the sort of maddeningly vague, on-again-off-again illness that I would normally go grumbling into work despite. However, my boss has essentially quarantined me from the office. Truth be told, I'd rather be at work.

On the upside, I went back and played some Audiotorium today. It's a relaxing breed of puzzle-solver, Flash-based, and every bit as good as I remember it being. If you haven't tried it yet, I'd recommend you do so (if only as a change of pace from Bejeweled). Not coincidentally, the game has a very good sense of flow, which is a topic I've become increasingly interested in. Apparently they have a full version which is now available for purchase, if that interests you. It doesn't look like they have an iPhone app out yet, which is a shame... well, would be a shame if I had an iPhone. I suppose I'll just have to be deeply saddened on behalf of the iPhoners.

Porch Postin'

Hello Bloggites! Gore-gee-us day outside, so I've taken Matt's laptop (aka "The Red Tigers") out to the porch to soak in the sun and provide weekend coverage of my usual subjects. It's the perfect antidote to a Charlie's Kitchen double-beef and beer hangover.

First, the usual: Videogames. More and more I'm realizing that Blizzard needs to release their next game, be it Starcraft 2 or Diablo 3 (preferably the former). Every game I pick up in the interim feels like digital distraction, a sad and ultimately futile attempt to fill a growing void. I understand that you can't rush the work that Blizzard does; they are the industry leaders for a reason, which is that nothing leaves their offices until you can see your reflection multiplied 58-fold in their product's perfectly polished facets. Still, a man has needs, and to find comfort in other games at this point makes me feel cheap.

On to publishing. You've already heard of Amazon's Kindle, the hugely popular ebook reader. Now, as someone who works in print publishing, I'm obligated to tell you that its development was actually a series of blasphemous rituals, dark rites of sacrifice intended to mock the gods. Purchase one at your soul's peril! As a kid who enjoys reading and thinking about emerging technologies, though, I'm delighted by its features, its energy-efficient screen, and the idea of digital distribution generally. I'm thrilled to think that music, words, images, games and software are on their way to becoming completely virtual; manufacturing itself is a needlessly wasteful practice when you consider that all these things can be reduced to ones and zeroes and reproduced endlessly and transmitted instantaneously. No more fuel wasted in shipping and no more real estate wasted on superfluous storefronts or warehouses. Putting content developers more directly in touch with consumers seems like a slam-dunk.
From a pragmatic consumer's perspective, though, I have to ask: Really, why do you need a Kindle? The parallels between iTunes and ebooks are false. People can actually use a device that holds 1,500 songs, because variety is important to the enjoyment of that medium. But 1,500 books? Who can possibly utilize that volume? The ability to purchase singles for 99 cents was another incredible boon to digital distribution of music - why force people to pay $14.00 for a CD that only has 3 worthwhile tracks on it? Books are meant to be consumed in whole, though, i.e. most people probably aren't interested in picking up just the foreword to The Bros Karamazov. And despite the total elimination of manufacturing and distribution costs, publishers don't intend to drastically reduce prices on ebooks over a typical paperback - the standard price right now hovers at about $10.00, so it'll be a long time before you're able to recoup that $359 entry fee to Kindle ownership (although I'm sure this price will drop in the near future). Frankly, I don't get it. But then again, as one of our vendor reps told us recently, it doesn't matter; Amazon has more money than God. If they will it to, it will succeed.

In other news, Madonna got shot down trying to adopt a child in Africa. Celebrity news isn't the sort of thing I usually devote brainpower to, but in this case the debate is actually pretty fascinating. It's like one of those giant balls of rubber bands, where each loop is a distinct, emotionally charged issue, pulled tight around the knotted whole; a band for racism, one for sexism, one here for fears of lingering imperialism, another for socioeconomic distrust and animosity. Pretty much everyone has a reason to feel uncomfortable when talking about it. Which isn't to say she's in the wrong; all indications thus far have been that she's a good mother, and able to provide a nurturing environment for her adopted children. In a sense, the bottom line really ought to be what's best for the kids, and since the number of orphaned children world-wide far outstrips the supply of capable adults willing to adopt, one would think it's a no-brainer: Let her adopt. But there's something about the situation that leaves me feeling uneasy, a subtext to the story that doesn't sit right. We don't often have to talk about the legacy of race and imperialism here in the Northeast United States, so it's hard to verbalize these concerns. Put bluntly though, you have to worry whenever rich, white celebrities decide to save Africa from itself. That's the concern. That she's used her privilege to grease the wheels and skirt local adoption laws is disconcerting. That she is, in a sense, benefiting from their poverty is also disconcerting. Again, I'm not planting my feet on one side or the other of the issue. I'm just slightly intrigued by how uncomfortable the whole thing makes me.

Does this sound gay to you?

"I'm going to fill Matt's hard drive with my punk."
Be honest.

Subtitular Concerns

I realize now that I haven't said word one about burritos yet, which makes me guilty of false advertising. Know that I am exceedingly contrite in this realization. I was probably just hungry when I came up with the subtitle for this blog... but like the famished politicians of ages past, I have failed to deliver on the campaign promises of my pro-burrito platform. Allow me to make amends and prove to you that I am a man of integrity.

(Actually, before I do that, talking about hungry government officials made me think of a classic Onion video, which I will now link to here)

I'm lucky to live in Boston, as the burrito has a strong presence here. My one complaint is that the vendors we do have are, for the most part, chains and the burritos produced therein are fairly standard fare. Yes, I'm looking at you, Anna. Anna's Taqueria is a reliable establishment, serving up good food fast, and has become a staple of my lunch-time diet. Tacos Lupita of Somerville is another option, with generally better quality and more variety than Anna's (but still cheap-as-you-like, especially if you're of the sour cream 'n guac persuasion).

Sometimes, though, you want to treat yourself. Sometimes you want a true meal of a burrito, the kind that will haunt your thoughts during the quiet hours; the kind where the mere thought of it makes your eyes glaze and your lips go dry. In honesty, the only place I know to go for that sort of transcendental experience is Burlington, VT, home of the University of Vermont and, coincidentally, Elliot Simons. That lucky bastard. What was the name of that place, anyways, El? The one where they drizzle the burritos in sauce? Oh, the presentation! It was magnificent, with a taste to match. The waitstaff were, I must say, wicked cute, if a little too-knowledgable ("It's against the law for us to serve margaritas by the pitcher." Oh, so you're a lawyer now? [Flips table]). Despite our waitress' insolence, though, I would have gladly married off my little brother that night.

Anyways, El, if you can put a name to this dream-like recollection of mine, that'd be most appreciated.