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yukinojou · 4 years ago

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I already squeed quite a bit on Twitter, but turns out my Shadow and Bone thoughts demand longform. So that was a 40+ tweet thread or using my Tumblr for an original post for once.

I was wary about the Shadow and Bone adaptation the way I'm usually wary about good books being adapted onscreen. It was amplified because my actual favourites are the Six of Crows books, and because the American-based movie complex has a bad track record of doing anything based on Eastern Europe. 8 episodes in 3 days should tell you how much I loved it - the moment I finished, I wanted more.

First, the technical praise:

Damn but the plotting is tight. It took me a while to realised it's based on heist movie bones, where every little thing (The Freaking Bullet!) is important. The story fulfills its promises and manages not to bore at the same time - it delights by the way they're fulfilled. I called out a few plot developments moments before they happened, and I was happy about it. Such a joy after so many series where "not doing what viewers expect" led to plot holes and lack of sense. It might be an upside to the streaming model after all.

From a dramatic point of view I can tell all the reasons for all the changes, especially providing additional outsider points of view on Ravka (Crows) and letting viewers see Mal for themselves the way he only comes across in later books.

Speaking of which, this is a masterclass in rewriting a story draft. SaB was Bardugo's first, and having read later books you can really see where she didn't quite dare to break the YA rules yet, especially Single POV that necessitated a tight focus on Alina's often negative feelings rather than the big picture and a triangle that felt a bit forced. The world in the series is so much bigger, the way Bardugo could finally paint it when SaB success gave her more creative freedom, and some structural choices feel familiar too. It's a combination of various choices by crew and cast, but the end result meshes together so tightly and naturally.

Visuals! Especially the war parts because Every Soviet Movie Ever, but also the clothes (I would kill for Nina's blouse in the bar), the jewelry, the interiors. The stag was so very beautiful. And a deep commitment to a coherent aesthetic for each character and setting.

Look, you can do a serious fantasy series with colours! Both skin colours and bright sets and clothing! And all scenes were well lit enough to know what's going on, even in the Fold!

Representation (aka I Am Emotion)

To start with: I was born behind the Iron Curtain, in the last years of the Cold War. The Curtain was always permeable to some extent, and we have always been aware that while we have talented artists of our own, we never had the budgets and polish of the Anglosphere Entertainment Machine. So we watched a hell of a lot of American visual storytelling especially because yeah, you can tell we don't have the budgets. 90s and 2000s especially, it's getting better now.

In American stories, the BEST case scenario for Eastern European representation is the Big Dumb Pole, the ethnic stereotype Americans don't even notice they use, where the punchline is that his English is bad or that he grew up outside Anglo culture. Other than that, it's criminals, beggars, sex trafficking victims, refugees. Sure, we may look similar (except we really really don't, not if you're raised here and see the distinct lack of all those long-jawed Anglo faces), but we are not and have never been the West, never mind America. It's probably better for younger people now, but I was raised under rationing and passport bans. Star Trek and Beverly Hills 90210 were exactly as foreign to me.

The first ever character I really identified with was Susan Ivanova in Babylon 5 (written by J. Michael Straczynski, yay behind-camera representation). This was a Russian Jewish woman very much in charge, in the way of strong women I know so well, not taking any bullshit, not repressing her feminity. I recognised her bones, she could be my cousin. The sheer relief of it. There have been few such occasions since.

The reason I picked up Shadow and Bone in the first place was recommendations from other Polish people. I've had no problems finding representation in Eastern European books because wow our scene is strong in SFF especially, but it's always a treat to find a book in English that gets it. And Leigh gets it, the bones of our culture, and I could even look past the grammar issue (dear gods and Americans, Starkova for a woman, Morozov for a guy) that really irked me because of the love for the setting and the characters, the weaving in of religion/mysticism (we never laicisized the same way as the West, natch), the understanding of how deep are the scars left in a nation at war for centuries. The books are precious to me, they and Arden's Winternight and Novik's Spinning Silver.

To sum up: Shadow and Bone the Netflix series gets it. You can tell just how much they've immersed themselves in Eastern European culture and media, it comes across so well in visuals and writing and characters. Not just the obvious bits (though the WWII propaganda posters gave me a giggle), but the palaces, the additional plotlines and characters, the costumes, the attitudes. About the only thing missing in the soldier scenes was someone singing and/or quoting poetry.

I will blame the Apparat's lack of beard on filming in a non-Orthodox country. Poland's Catholic too, but I very much imagined him as an Orthodox patriarch, possibly because I read the books shortly after a visit to Pecherska Lavra in Kiev and the labyrinthine holy catacombs there. Small quibble, not my religion, not my place to speak.

(I've seen discussion on the issues with biracial representation in the show, which is visceral and apparently based on bad experiences of one of the show writers in a way that's caused pain to other Asian and biracial people. I'm not qualified to speak on those parts, other that Eastern Europe is... yeah. Racist in subtly different ways. If anything, the treatment of the Suli as explained in Six of Crows always read so very true of the way Roma are treated, and even sanitised.)

And now for the spoiler-filled bits:

Kaz and Inej. I mean... just THEM. So many props to the actors, the writers, the bloody goat.

I adore the fact the only people who get to have sex in the show are Jesper and a very lucky stablehand.

Ben Barnes needs either an award or a kick. The man's acting choices and puppy eyes are as epic as his hair.

So Much Love for Alina initiating the kiss. Her book characterisation makes sense, she's so trapped in her own head because she has no time to process everything that's happening, but grabbing life by the lapels is a much more active choice. Still not making the relationship equal, but closer to it.

Speaking of, Kaz's constant awareness of how unequal his relationship with Inej is, and attempts to give her agency. I'm really curious how his touch issues come across to someone who doesn't know the backstory there.

Feodor and his actor. He looks exactly like the pre-war heartthrob Adolf Dymsza, a specific upper-class Polish ethnic type that's much rarer now that, well, Nazis killed millions of Polish intellectuals in their attempt to reduce us to unskilled labour only. The faces he makes are the Best.

Nina!! Nina is perfect, those cheekbones, that cheek, I was giggling myself silly half the time. I cannot wait to see Danielle Galligan take on the challenge of Nina's plotline in Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom, she'll kill us dead.

I already mentioned that the writers fixed Mal's absence from the first book, but Mal in general! The haircut gives him a kind of rugby charm, and Archie Renaux is outstanding at emoting without talking. Honestly, all the casting in this series is inspired, but him in particular.

Extra bonus: Howard Charles and Luke Pasqualino playing so very much against the type of the swaggering Musketeers I saw them play last. Arken dropping the mask at the end... Howard Charles is love.

I can't believe not only was Milo's bullet a plot point, but the fact Alina was wearing a particularly sparkly hair ornament in a long series of beautiful hair ornaments was a plot point.

In conclusion: so much love, and next three season NOW please. Okay, give me a week to reread the books, and an extra day because new Murderbot drops tomorrow...

#shadow and bone #six of crows #shadow and bone meta

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de-boeldieu · 6 years ago

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My Aviation Films List

I know some of you might be wondering why I did this to myself, and the answer is simple; I’m bored and I like movies, and I stumbled across so many films that I felt it was my duty to watch some regardless of quality. Oh boy did this prove to be a challenge.

There were a total of 22 movies on the list. Two films I was unable to watch Journey Together ( 1945 ) (anything on the film seemed to be lost, unfortunately), and a 30 minute Hitchcock French propaganda short called Bon Voyage ( 1944 ) (version I watched was slightly screwed up, and some of the English subtitles were translated incorrectly).

However, I was able to watch every other film on the list! Granted, completing this took a LOT longer than I anticipated.

I’m not quite sure how I should go about writing, but I suppose I will rank each film to my own personal opinions of what they were like, with a brief summary, and any small notes I had whilst watching. If you’d like a more in depth summary or any additional details I had while watching the film, ask me, or look the name up if it interests you.

Also I’d just like to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to anyone who takes the time to read some of these. You’re ace.

In order, from my favorite to least favorite:

1. La Grande Illusion ( 1937 )

Oooh my god you guys, this film made me cry so hard. Trust me, the dramatic music on the title card is there for a reason. A French film set in WWI, where French pilots get captured and sent to German POW camps where they make attempts to escape. It also has low key socialist sentiments. Some parts are a little cheesy because it’s a 30s film, but still amazing.

The only thing I was not terribly fond of was the last half hour or so, just really wasn’t my thing. But overall? Absolutely brilliant.

2. Dark Blue World ( 2001 )

A Czech film about two WWII Czech RAF pilots and their friendship, both loving the same woman. This one will also make you cry. Really beautiful film.

I was super worried that the romance in it was just sort of going to be thrust in there, but it certainly was not. Drama was great and all the characters were super memorable and had their own personalities. Highly recommend this one.

3. Riders In The Sky ( 1968 )

Another Czech film about WWII Czech RAF pilots. About the dynamic between a bomber crew and how they cope with the war, and the Battle of Britain. It’s adorable and I highly recommend this one too.

4. Into The White ( 2010 )

A Norwegian movie based on the story of how an RAF bomber crew and a Luftwaffe bomber crew both get shot down in the middle of Norway, and then had to learn to get along and work together to survive. What a wonderful film. Some parts can be predictable, but as a whole good. An interesting character study. Also it gets bonus points from me because it has a ginger, Scottish RAF Air gunner.

5. Wings ( 1927 )

A VERY long silent film. Takes place during WWI, two American fighter pilots, both in love with the same girl, and another girl is in love (requited) with one of them. About their rivalry and friendship, and how they deal with training and the war. The training scenes were delightful. I was worried I was going to get bored, but it was actually super excellent (and sad too). The camera work was brilliant and the musical score was amazing. It also has the first ever on-screen same-sex kiss. A really great film, even if silent films aren’t your thing, there’s SO much drama in this one. If you already love silent films, you will adore this movie, but I’d recommend it to most anyone.

6. The Dawn Patrol ( 1930 ) & ( 1938 )

About an RFC commander during WWI, who is distraught over casualties, an RFC captain, and his friend. The captain lashes out at the commander over the casualties as well after the death of a friend. Eventually the captain replaces the commander and starts to understand the stress of the job the previous major had, as his friend begins to lash out at him.

I thought it was an interesting take on both the pilots and the authorities in the RFC during the war. Both provided interesting perspectives.

I can tell you right now, unless you’re dedicated like I am, the 1938 version of The Dawn Patrol is MUCH better than the 1930 one. I’d recommend watching that version, if this movie interests you.

7. The One That Got Away ( 1957 )

About the only Luftwaffe pilot to ever escape from British POW camps. Usually I’m very wary of films that have WWII German characters, but this was very well written and remained predominantly neutral through the whole thing. Lots of clever escapes. If you like Luftwaffe pilots, escape films, and / or old movies, you will adore this film.

8. The Dam Busters ( 1955 )

A damn fine film. About the invention of the RAF “bouncing bomb” used to destroy German dams in WWII, and the RAF Squadron that flew the Lancasters to drop them. The writer of the movie was R.C. Sheriff, the original author of the play Journey’s End. Really enjoyed every aspect of the movie, my only complaint is that it was dreadfully long. Overall, a good movie, if this sort of thing interests you.

9. One Of Our Aircraft Is Missing ( 1942 )

Hands down the most intense opening scenes I had watched in any of these movies. About an RAF bomber getting shot down over Nazi occupied Holland, and they have to escape to England without being caught.

I remember being really engaged in this movie and I quite enjoyed the witty British banter. A good movie, if you like old ones.

10. La Grande Vadrouille ( 1966 )

A French WWII war comedy film about two Frenchmen who help a British bomber crew who crashed in France escape to Britain. Very strange? But also funny? But also a little dated but also incredibly hilarious? I was just really intrigued by it honestly. Reminded me of a few Monty Python sketches, despite this film being made years prior. You will either really enjoy it or not at all, but if it interests you, I’d recommend giving it a watch.

11. The Eagle And The Hawk ( 1933 )

Takes place in WWI and is about two American pilots, and various other ones, and how the war affects them, some more than others. I remember this movie surprising me quite a lot, which I think is good for a war film dealing with the sudden deaths of your comrades. Good movie, although not as well executed as The Dawn Patrol.

12. Reach For The Sky ( 1956 )

This one is LONG. About Douglas Bader, pretty much. A cute film though. You will like it if Bader or famous World War aces are your cup of tea.

13. Aces High ( 1976 )

So this movie was based off Journey’s End, except with aeroplanes. It also draws from Sagittarius Rising by Cecil Lewis (a book I’ve been meaning to find and read). If you know the plot of that play (and now more recently a movie), you will know the plot of this movie, except the names are changed. It’s a character study of three RFC pilots during WWI and the life expectancy of “Green pilots” AKA newly trained pilots.

Was a cute movie, not as good as the Journey’s End film from this year however. A lot of awkward silences and I really didn’t understand why? There was also a L’Armée de L’Air Officer who was having NONE of the British banter.

But if you liked Journey’s End and wished there were more pilots then you will enjoy it. The movie might be an interesting watch for those of you who are fans of the original play and / or movie as well.

14. The First Of The Few ( 1942 ), also titled The Spitfire

About the invention of the Spitfire fighter plane. Good if you’re really into aviation. Really liked the witty banter, however.

15. Johnny In The Clouds ( 1945 ), also titled The Way To The Stars

A romance drama. Takes place during WWII in Britain. Initially about two RAF pilots, one married and the other one with a girlfriend that he goes through a serious of hardships with. Then the 8th USAAF come, then it’s about two USAAF pilots and one RAF one, and the widowed wife. One of the USAAF pilots looks and acts like a Tarantino character. Really boring until the Americans come. I’d recommend this to people who like period romances and dramas, but the cultural stuff between the Brits and Americans was pretty good. An alright movie that takes a little bit to get into.

16. Memphis Belle ( 1990 )

REALLY CHEESY. About 8th USAAF in Britain, the bomber crew of the B-17, Memphis Belle. Except it’s not actually the crew, it’s just characters based on them. I remember the dialogue being cheesy, but still somehow better than Flyboys. Also felt pretty entertained the entire thing. A nice detail I liked was that all the bomber crew had their own individually painted A-2 jackets. Characteristic of mostly American bomber crews, and I thought that was a unique touch.

If you like cheesy, feel-good, American WWII movies, you will really like this film.

17. The Red Baron ( 2008 )

About Manfred von Richthofen. Not super accurate, but a decent amount of research done. I remember it being boring, but some of the camera shots were beautiful, looked like paintings. Boring though.

18. Angels One Five ( 1952 )

About an RAF Squadron during the Battle of Britain, except it’s more about the superior officers in that Squadron rather than the pilots. Boring, but the camera work was super high quality for a 50s film? There’s a scene where a Hurricane crashes into a base home. But mostly just officers talking and ordering folks around.

19. Twelve O’Clock High ( 1949 )

Incredibly dull and boring. Nothing but USAAF generals talking, then a bomber scene that was also boring. Flat, bland, and uninspired camerawork. Would not recommend.

20. Flyboys ( 2005 )

I’m sure many of you lads have seen my rant on this film. It’s an ugly, awful, waste of film. I can’t describe the plot of the movie, because there really isn’t one, except that a group of American volunteer pilots, called the Lafayette Escadrille, go to war. That’s it.

I found myself either laughing or yelling at the absolute ridiculousness of this film. It’s dreadful, but depending on your sense of humor, it’s VERY entertaining.

Would recommend watching it drunk, for an even more enhanced experience. I’d also suggest it if bad, horribly inaccurate, and ridiculously American action movies are your thing, you’ll have an absolute blast.

Thank you so much if you took any time to read even just one of these. I super appreciate it, this list was loads of fun and a rollercoaster of emotions. Thank you to those of you who enjoyed hearing my ranting about these bloody things.

#AHHHHH ITS DONE LADS #FINALLY #its been MONTHS im so sorry #what a fantastic journey this has been #i am not a critic these are just my opinions!#anyways i hope this was at least a very interesting read #c’est moi

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keenregine · 3 years ago

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Don't ask me for movie recommendations if you hate war related contents I can't promise but I will try, and I hope that's good enough to keep this pointless blog. It has been what? Half a year? I'm in a situation where the internet is not accessible at the moment, the reason why I'm assuming the last time I've written something. Anyways, what could be an interesting tale to tell. That took me couple of minutes. . . I moved! And I'm loving single moment of it. Call me weird all you want but I love the feeling of solitude especially in the comfort of having my own home. Because compared to where I previously lived, I have always felt like I'm occupying a rented room. Common areas for me, such as the living room and kitchen are somewhat restricted, this is based on my choice not due to any certain implications. Now I have all the freedom to decorate any part of the house. (as if I'm good at it, I'm trying to learn though) Never thought plants can be visually stimulating, whether they're plastic or real ones. If you ask me, I prefer the plastic ones. Low maintenance, no need to water, sing or talk to them. Plus my floor would not get wet every time I excessively and unintentionally drown them. I got quite frustrated with my cutie ass bonsai, even with my purest dedication to water it everyday, it still loses its leaves one after another. I initially thought, perhaps new leaves are growing; but it never did. It just went on from being thin to almost bald. You might suggest, the internet is there to provide some proper caring techniques for a silly little plant. I guess, I'm not really interested after all. Away we go to with the plastic ones! I meant plant, not person. Lol ohhhh. Living alone is fun, rest assured. There are two options for me where to hang and slumber, that would be my bedroom and the receiving area. I never get to enjoy the living room in my previous home, why you ask? It's full of garbage. No kidding, maybe things that can't occupy much of the space in their room (which is already the masters'), the living room is the second option (kitchen is full, stock room is full, living room upstairs is full, even my own single space in the fridge has something that is theirs. So, instead of me enjoying other scenery apart from my four-cornered bedroom, it will be my stress triggered. Lol. And of course, I have no right or whatsoever to rearrange them or even complain about it. Sounds pitiful of me for saying this but before, my meals are always held on my bed or in a table beside it. Now it became the opposite, I have the privilege to eat in a freaking decent dining table, where I can properly sit down and where meals are suppose to be eaten. I might have previously mentioned, I may not be that kind of person who's into home arranging and stuff or if that's what it's called. I couldn't even say I've developed a sense of some Mom-like characteristics in terms of home keeping aspect, (child-bearing, not close enough lol), I believe this is only the starting phase because certainly there are tons of other areas I need to improve or showcase hopefully in the future. Can't elaborate enough how much I felt the moment I moved out. If I was not pursued by a certain person I would not even have the courage to do it. Maybe there's a small part of me afraid of change, yet here I am. Big thanks. Second half of this was written at home meaning I have an access to the internet, totally irrelevant but I just like to point that out. I woke up this morning with a jolt. For the first time ever, my laptop fell on the floor. If it was the old me it would ruin my entire day; present me would ignore it and move on. Why? What’s the point, it already happened. No matter how much energy I summon into thinking it was my fault (which it is), I’d rather spend that energy somewhere else meaningful. But fuck it fell, no scratches though. My life, my baby, my only source of entertainment, because it provides all the stuff that I need, Youtube, watching movies, writing. Can I be more careless than this? Yes, and also a bit melo dramatic. jinx! Hope I got you there. It’s wonderful how huge my bed now is. It could effortlessly occupy three average sized people, happened once when I had a sleepover few weeks ago, freaking works! I got excited when. I had to buy new sheets, I initially though it was a Queen size, but it was King. Valid reason I had to purchase extra pillows, it was never a big deal for me but then I figured why not. I had a this big size of a bed, but I’m pretty sure I always stay in one spot. So is my laptop desk along with the reachable charging cables; hence, I get to be more lazier than ever; top of the game. I discarded most of my old unused clothes, I have no intentions at all in sending back to the Philippines for charity purposes. I’d rather send them things they could actually use for their own and not some silly hand me downs. Once I send them a big package, . . whenever I say the phrase ‘big package’ I instantly think of Marshal Eriksen from How I Met Your Mother. Lily his wife told him, “You’re father sent us a big package”, then Marshal would reply, “yeah he did”. Wait, so I sent my family back home a big package containing things their requested, most are simple, and some that I’m sure they would like. Filled it up in a matter of days, but sent them in extensive delays. This was way before I decided to move. The moving thing was actually just a rush decision, I didn’t have the slightest consideration of ever leaving that wretched place. Oh now you called it wretched, that’s really mature of you Regine. You spend nearly half a decade of your life in there, no depth of gratitude and all. I don’t know if it’s a gift or a tragedy, you know me moving on so quickly not looking back from where I came from, whether those place gave me both good memories and bad. Typical me, leap of ideas. But anyways, this new house I moved in was on the third floor, no elevator. So by the time I reach my house, my pre existing tiredness would become double. I developed a certain breathing technique from my mountain climbing activities back then that is useful half the time right now. I should teach that to anyone who’s visiting me. 100% of people has the same out of breath faces when I open the door, can’t blame them. Some advantage of it is the proximity to the bus stop, but compared to the time frame I had before versus now is that I had to leave five minutes early as opposed to two. The stairs takes time even if it’s downwards; I can’t afford having a stupid unnecessary injury due to what? Hurrying up? Although that would give me several weeks of paid sick leave. Hmm, now we’re being a masochist. Apart from the bus stop is the grocery which I haven’t gone to many times since I moved, the gym where I only went once after several months, the park where I don’t have to physically visit because I can see it fully on my window which is awesome by the way. Before I end this boring entry in the hopes when I make a comeback I should’ve written something fun meaningful, disappointments is where I’m actually good at, so I’m gonna keep it perfectly that way. Okay, one more thing. Biggest shock of the day. I watched Rebel in the Rye movie for two major reasons; One, J.D. Salinger is one of my favorite classic writers and Catcher in the Rye book ultimately earned my gold stamp. Two, freaking Nicholas Hoult portrayed 'the' J.D. Salinger in that movie. Is he a prince of biopics or what, because he also did J.R.R Tolkien which was quite good. Same vibes if you ask me. The biggest shock that I'm talking about was Oona O'Neill. halfway the movie she showed up as Jerry's (J.D.freaking Salinger) girlfriend. And I thought, oh Oona was a pretty popular name back in the 40s huh, because to my knowledge Charlie Chaplin's last wife was also named Oona. Only to find out it was the same person. LOL jokes was on me. Spoilers ahead. They we're introduced briefly in a party, Oona rejected him initially, because she was self-absorbed at the time and only has the hots for successful men. Kidding (true story) Eventually when JD became minorly published, he finally got her approval, they dated, 1941 Pearl Harbor happened, he had to serve during WWII, D-Day in Normandy, news came out 18y/o Oona married world renowned 40 years her senior, successful * let's focus on the word succesful* Charlie Chaplin (whom I also loved). It's like connecting the dots. Fun game. But how come she was not mentioned in any of daddy Jerry's written biography. Should be none of my worries. Shocker huh.

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janiedean · 7 years ago

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do you have any book recs for world war fiction because they almost always break my heart and i'm in the mood for that xD

OKAY SO LET’S HAVE MY TIME TO SHINE forgive me if I also do vietnam fiction but me and the vietnam war have a long story

slaughterhouse five, kurt vonnegut: CLASSIC OF CLASSICS OF WWII FICTION READ IT PLS

mother night, kurt vonnegut: not as Classic Of Classics as SF but an excellent read nonetheless which also provides Very Interesting Food For Thought especially in this era of calling everything nazi even if it’s not necessarily so

catch 22, joseph heller: best satire of WWII you’ll ever read

flags of our fathers, james bradley: everything you wanna know about the battle of iwo jima from the american side (it’s nonfiction but it’s written with a lot of feeling and it reads like a novel half of the time)

letters from iwo jima, kumiko kakehashi: everything you wanna know about iwo jima from the japanese side. bradley’s book is technically better written and it’s a bit ripetitive (or so the translation made it) but it’s very very good and the aforementioned letters will break your heart a+++ would recommend

dispatches, michael herr: everything you want to know about the vietnam war, it’s a reportage but written in a very... novel-ized way just trust me it’s worth it

if I die in a combat zone & the things they carried, tim o’ brien: EVEN MORE AMAZING VIETNAM BOOKS the guy was a vet and he writes of his own experience but it’s very well-written and both are heartbreaking go for it

the winter war, eloise engle and lauri paananen: excellently written reportage about the finnish/russian winter war which is nonfiction but was extremely well-done and researched and shines a lot of light on a part of wwii people don’t usually know much about so a+++ would recommend

johnny got his gun, dalton trumbo: you wanna cry? READ IT. IT’S THE BEST AND THE WORST AT THE SAME TIME. I DON’T THINK I EVER RAN INTO A MORE HEARTBREAKING THING IN MY ENTIRE LIFE WHEN IT COMES TO WAR FICTION

all quiet on the western front, erich maria remarque: the WWI classic

(spoilers: in theory hemingway is also a good technical choice but I have a long-unresolved issue with the man which prevents me from finishing any book of his but that said for whom the bell tolls and a farewell to arms should also be v. good so while I’ve never finished the latter and I hate the former - because we did it in school badly and that killed my interest in hemingway - you probably might wanna try them out)

the naked and the dead, normal mailer: MOAR CLASSIC WWII SHIT GO TRY IT OUT

these are my faves hopefully something might interest you here :D that said if you wanna cry go for o’ brien/herr/vonnegut/trumbo, that poker is a guaranteed result

#book recs #Anonymous #ask post

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caroundtheworld-blog1 · 7 years ago

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06/08/17 - Sydney

A month or so before they arrived, I messaged my Mum and Dad and asked them what they’d like to do whilst they were here, and where they’d like to go. Sydney was one of the choices. My mum did 6 months in Australia when she was 18, and she still talks about how great Sydney is, so I knew how much she wanted to go back. I also knew it would be no easy feat, we’re a 10 hour drive north from Sydney, and to get there, do it all, and get back would take a minimum of two days, and would leave us exhausted. But we had spare days, three drivers, and no pressing engagements so we decided to go for it.

We left on the Saturday night at around 8pm, and drove non-stop for 10 hours in shifts. My parents drove most of it and I did around 2 hours or so, with Daniel in the passenger seat, so they could both get some sleep in the back. The journey was fine, for me anyway as I slept through most of it. There were fears that we might hit a kangaroo, as we’d seen a few on the side of the road, and there were warnings everywhere, and it was pitch black. A kangaroo hopping out in front of you when you’re doing 110km/h on the motorway is less than ideal, but thankfully we (and the kangaroos) didn’t have to deal with anything so awful. The sat-nav did get a bit confused as it was a new road, so the arrow sat in fields for hours twirling around, trying to figure out what was going on. But we made it, in one piece, to Sydney at around 7.30 Sunday morning. We parked (when it finally opened) for a $15 all day flat rate, and headed off to explore the city.

We only had one day to do Sydney, which sounds like an impossible task. But thanks to the invention of hop-on hop-off services, it turned out to be quite easy. We used the Big Bus hop-on hop-off service, and the Captain Cook hop-on hop-off boat. We caught the train to Circular Quay and booked tickets for both, I used my student card which is still valid until September for a discount, much to my mother’s delight. They also offer senior discount, which is where my dad comes in handy. We grabbed some breakfast and then headed for the bus. We bagged the front seats on the top deck, it was quite quiet as it was early, and stayed on the bus tour for the entire route. The Big Bus tours offer a red route and a blue route; the red does all the major areas and landmarks of the city, and if you change onto the blue route, you can also do the famous Bondi Beach. We were pushed for time so we skipped Bondi, as the whole thing would have taken 4 hours. The sightseeing tour around the city took an hour and a half and included every important inch of Sydney. there was loads of information and it was a beautiful winter’s day (Australian winter so around 20°C) , so it was nice to just sit back, listen, and enjoy the city sights.

After our bus tour, we headed to Circular Quay to hop on our boat tour of the harbour. Captain Cook provide various different boat cruises regularly throughout the day. The hop-on, hop-off tour stops at 11 places around the harbour. We were a bit pushed for time so chose two stops and decided we’d stay on the boat for the rest of the journey, to enjoy the sights. Our first stop was Fort Denison, and we arrived on the island just in time for the daily cannon firing. Fort Denison is an island, formerly a penal site and defensive fortress, that sits in Sydney harbour, about 1km east of the opera house. The island is now a protected national park and popular tourist attraction. Every day at 1pm, a cannon is fired, this tradition began in 1906, and was intended to help sailors to accurately set their ship’s chronometers. The daily firing stopped during WWII, as it was feared that it would alarm residents, a fair assumption, and it was started again in 1986. It was a pretty cool thing to see, and learn about, we all did a countdown to the firing (which actually turned out to be late, the gun fired on ‘2′), and covered our ears to protect them from the sound. The ranger was really informative, and told us a lot of interesting historical facts about the firing, and the island itself. There’s also a free museum that tells you all about the history of the island, including a film with historical footage and pictures. The island is not only a really fascinating piece of history, it also boasts some of the best views of the city, this was an excellent opportunity to take photos whilst we waited for our next boat.

After Fort Denison, we stayed on the boat until our final destination, enjoying the sights and soaking up the sun (it was also so windy, would definitely recommend taking an extra coat or something, we went in Winter, but even so, the 20 degree weather felt like 10 when that wind blew). It was a really pleasant and relaxing journey that provided amazing views of the city and surrounding areas, and a lot of interesting information too.

Our final stop was Darling Harbour to grab something to eat. Darling Harbour is packed full of restaurants and bars, if you want to eat but aren’t sure what you fancy, head here, there are so many choices of restaurant, and some really cool bars too. We settled on an Italian place overlooking the harbour (Darling, not Sydney) where there was some sort of boat/yacht thing going on, I think rich people were letting the masses on board their boats for a nosey or something like that. One of the most exciting moments of the day was when we thought Russell Crowe walked past (we were split 50/50 as to whether it was actually him). I tweeted him to confirm, but before he got back to me, the same man walked past us again, and we were able to confirm that no, it definitely wasn’t Russell Crowe, much to our disappointment. After our late lunch we headed back towards the hop-on hop-off bus, planning to get off at a stop near where the car was parked. On the way back to the car, we passed The Chinese Garden of Friendship, which I’d wanted to visit all day. The gardens were built in 1988, colonial Australia’s bicentennial year, as a symbol of friendship between Sydney, and the city of Guangzhou in Guangdong province in China, the two cities are sister cities, and both states are sister states. An oasis of peace in the city, it boasts beautiful waterfalls, traditional Chinese architecture, exotic plants, ponds filled with Koi carp, and a traditional Chinese tea house. Unfortunately, it was quite late in the day and the gardens were just closing as we arrived, but it’s at the top of my list for my next visit to the city.

Our day in Sydney was well worth the long drive it took to get there. We packed so much in in such a short space of time, and really got to experience one of the most iconic cities in the world. It was especially great that I got to share it with my parents, and that my Mum got to go back to one of her favourite places. If you’re in Sydney, and pushed for time, I would definitely recommend doing the hop-on hop-off thing. My favourite was the boat, that would definitely be my first pick, and there are so many interesting stops around the harbour. But the bus tour gives you loads of great info and you get to see the whole city in a couple of hours, as well as Bondi if you choose to do the blue line as well. I can’t wait to go back and explore, and see what else this iconic, and vibrant city has to offer!

#australia #visitaustralia #sydney #visitsydney #newsouthwales #visitnewsouthwales #sydneytourism #tourists #sydneyharbour #sydney harbor bridge #sydneyoperahouse #travel #travelblog #travelblogging #travelblogger #winter #roadtrip #things to do in sydney

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themusiciantraveler · 6 years ago

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For Whom the Bells Toll in Dresden

Sunday. May 27, 2018.

�� It was the first morning any of us have actually “slept in” since we departed the States at the beginning of our trip, and let me say that the extra bit of rest was much needed. We once again stuffed our faces before heading into Dresden for a rainy Sunday morning. We arrived in the heart of the city just as it started to sprinkle outside — the fog heavy as the sun began to peek behind the clouds. The moment we stepped out of the van we instantly stepped back in time to the height of the 1800s with their grand balls and premiers of the latest Wagnerian opera.

The towering sight of the Zwinger — a castle and fortress that ended up only being mere walls and a courtyard, turned into a porcelain and crystal museum — greeted us as we were transported to the era of late-Romanticism. Fountains and gothic architecture graced the darkened grey skies, almost blending in together. We were running late (as per usual with 14 other traveling companions) so we only had time for a brief walk through the courtyard before walking to the main square that opened up to the Semper Opera House.

We stepped out into the courtyard of the Semper Opera House only to be greeted by a quartet of brass players performing a stunning Bach chorale. The notes gracefully intermingled in perfect, genius harmony as the reverberated off the lofty corners of the surrounding architecture. After they cadenced their beautiful reverie we tipped the talented musicians and decided to try our luck with a song request – specifically the National Anthem of the United States of America. They looked at us and then looked at one another before kindly acquiescing to our odd request – I’m certain they had never been asked to play the piece ever before based on their reactions. But soon the familiar strains that bring hats off heads and hands to cover hearts began to drift through the courtyard. Pride swelled in each of our hearts as we sang the lyrics that accompany the famous verses – the dictionary definition of juxtaposition as we took in the extremely European history around us.

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The Elbe River flowed directly alongside the town square, hemming in the antique architecture that surrounded our world. The rain began to pick up until it was falling steadily as we joined the queue to wait for the English tour of the opera house. A small tip, plan to have at least two hours to spend on the tour — we only had about 45 minutes to spare before our next excursion, so we unfortunately only barely got to see the stage and stunning seating boxes in the heart of the opera house. Also, check the daily schedule if you are there on a weekend, there may be a performance or two going on and you will need to plan around them accordingly because all tours will stop 2 hours before curtain call. Additionally, if you would like to take pictures of the magnificent marble columns and stunning chandeliers you will need to purchase a photo license at the beginning of the tour for a 3-Euro fee. If you don’t, they will kick you out of the tour if you take any photographs.

Just a few months before WWII ended the Allies bombed the living daylights out of Dresden, in retaliation for the loss of Coventry, completely destroying both the Semper Opera House and the Frauenkirche. In fact, the opera house that was originally commissioned for infamous composer Richard Wagner, had been destroyed on 2 previous occasions (both times by fire) so the building we got to tour was actually the 3rd reincarnation of the magnificent performing arts center that architect Semper had originally envisioned.

We left the tour early and in a hurry as the 11 o’clock bells began to toll from the Frauenkirche just a couple blocks down. There are three main services on Sundays: the 7am Mass, the 11am Lutheran service, and the 5pm English Presbyterian service. And once the service begins, you are not permitted to enter the church late, so we ran for all our worth, making it to the doors just as the final bell tolled to signal a change in the hour.

After being momentarily distracted by the beauty of the Frauenkirche, we finally located Doc and the row he had saved for us in the cathedral. We stood as the priest called us to worship and praise. Much of the service was spent looking around, counting and admiring details in order the stay awake because the entire service was in German! Every so often I would catch a word I recognized and my attention would be sparked before returning to my own thoughts. We participated in several traditional segments of a Mass, including the Kyrie and the Gloria, as well as call and response sections of the service. The most amazing part of the service that I will never forget was singing hymns and the Lord’s Prayer in German. Getting to worship alongside the fellow believers in our group in a different language was an incredible opportunity that just absolutely made my heart soar — certainly a once in a lifetime opportunity.

After the service ended, we talked Doc and Michael into letting us have a 30-minute break to walk around town a bit more, grab lunch, and purchase some souvenirs before getting back in the van for another long drive. We walked the picturesque square until we stopped at a quaint little cafe and bistro. We ordered cappuccinos and several small pastry bites covered in cinnamon and sugar and enjoyed the sunshine and the sounds of a Sunday in Dresden, Germany. The coffee was smooth and rich, a perfect pairing with the light sugar-coated pastries — something I wish my mom and I could have after every Sunday church service, though I do prefer my service in English.

After snagging some souvenirs for friends and a sandwich for the road, we headed back to the van through the Zwinger, the sun now high in the sky as we began our trek to the capital of Berlin. After yet another deep nap and several restroom stops, we finally arrived in the heart of Germany and our hotel for the next two evenings. We were given a chance to freshen up before a few final outings in the slowly sinking sunlight. We began at the Holocaust Museum and Memorial, after a few delays (as I’ve said before, maps are a useful commodity when traveling to a new place). A piece of advice, use Rick Steve’s travel books as resources when researching what sights to see. He often provides hours of operation and days that museums and other sights are closed. Something unique about Germany is that many museums are open on Sundays but are closed on Mondays, so by the time we finally arrived at the Holocaust Museum it had already closed for the evening and would not be reopening until Tuesday, by which time we would already be in another city.

So instead, I took some time to ponder and think on all that had happened to the people of my heritage during those dark years of WWII. The stunning and heart-stopping monument is designed on uneven ground with stone pillars of varying heights. People walk in and out of the pathways that the pillars create, but because of the differing heights of the columns, it makes it appear as though people randomly appear and disappear in the midst of the monument. It is intended to create an atmosphere that reminds the onlooker of what it must have felt like to lose everyone around you, friends and family disappearing suddenly into the night either in escape or in hostage. A frightening, yet nonetheless interesting, fact about the location of the monument is that it is less than a mile away from Hitler’s final stand, where he took his own life in his bunker. The building no longer exists, but a plaque on the pavement will reveal the location.

After taking a moment to slow down and think, we moved on through the city and just around the corner to the Brandenburg Gate – the starting point of the infamous Berlin Wall. The sun was creeping closer and closer to the ground, streaking the sky in pale hues of orange, yellow, pink, and blue, providing a stunning backdrop to such a painful monument in history. After an additional 2 miles of walking in search of Checkpoint Charlie, we finally convinced Michael to stop for dinner at the only place in sight. We ordered as much as we could as fast as possible, seeing that we had only had a small meal since the early morning.

A few final tips as our evening comes to a close. I recommend indulging in the local cuisine of the country you are in — try new things that might scare you, I promise they will provide some of the best food you will eat on the entire trip. And never travel without a map and research your closing times. You will thank yourself later when you are not wandering around a new city blindly or have missed the only chance at seeing a museum or shop you had on your list of ‘must dos’.

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davidpires578 · 7 years ago

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Does Uber give a Lift?

The other portion of wood arrived in my shop today, wood which I described in an earlier post as 'uber special'. Here it is, fresh off the boat, er, semi:

Doesn't look like much, does it? This motley set of 6 boards cost as much as the two super-wide pieces of Honduran Mahogany I acquired a week or two back. What am I, nuts? (please hold off on answering that until you have read further...) Another view:

What is this stuff, you might ask? It isn't Honduran mahogany, which goes by the Latin name of swietenia macrophylla, the word macrophylla meaning 'large leaf'. The genus name, the word 'swietenia', was named after Gerard von Swieten, a Dutch-Austrian physician who lived between 1700 and 1772, by a fellow named Nikolaus von Jacquin. Between 1755 and 1759, Nikolaus von Jacquin was sent to the West Indies and Central America by Francis I to collect plants for the Schönbrunn Palace, and amassed a large collection of animal, plant and mineral samples. There are three species comprising the genus Swietenia, namely:

Swietenia macrophylla, or Big leaf Mahogany

Swietenia mahagoni, referred to as West Indian, Santo Domingo, or Cuban Mahogany - it might also be called 'small leaf' mahogany (though accurate, that term is not used)

Swietenia humilis, a small and often twisted mahogany tree limited to seasonally dry forests in Pacific Central America that is of limited commercial utility.

S. humilis doesn't really count in the woodworking world as you'll never see timber from it. S. mahagoni - notice how the word 'mahagoni' is spelled with an 'a' there in the middle instead of an 'o' - was commercially extinct by 1900 or so, and commercial trade in the species pretty much ceased by WWII. I've noticed in a lot of books and articles, even scholarly ones, that the Latin name gets misspelled as 'mahogani'. Tut, tut, tsk, tsk...

Today, Big Leaf Mahogany is sold as 'Genuine Mahogany', in contradistinction to many species which are commercially termed 'mahogany' due to some physical resemblance to true mahoganies of the genus swietenia, namely:

Khaya spp., aka African Mahogany

Entandrophragma utile, or 'Utile'

Entandrophragma cylindricum, or Sapele

There are others of course, including the dreaded 'Phillipine Mahogany' - a good article on the topic can be found here.

Back in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when both species of real mahogany were exploited/pillaged, what-have-you, Great Britain was the champion consumer, importing some 85,000 tons of the wood, primarily from Jamaica, in peak importation year of 1875. As early as 1846, when mahogany was chiefly used in shipbuilding, Britain imported 85,000,000 board feet of the wood. By comparison, the US was a lightweight, and the peak consumption year of 1899 saw 21,149,750 board feet imported. I take the above facts and figures from Clayton Dissinger Mell, in his seminal work on the topic, published in 1911 as monograph #474 from the USDA, titled True Mahogany. 'Genuine mahogany' is all we have left these days it seems, though in the days when mahogany was used heavily, the term 'genuine' would have perhaps been laughed at. The esteemed species of the two actually genuine mahoganies, was in fact the Santo Domingo Mahogany (s. mahagoni), as is noted by Mell, and Big Leaf Mahogany was considered inferior:

Though "soft" and "spongy" the apparently inferior Big Leaf Mahogany may be, I personally find it an awesome species, as it is easily worked, suited to indoor or outdoor use, and incredibly stable in service, hardly warping and never checking. I haven't been able to compare it though to the other variety of course, so I am impoverished in that regard and lacking in perspective. Those guys - well, a few of them - in the 1800's had access to materials which I can only imagine. The 'Age of Mahogany', as far as furniture is concerned, was the period between the reigns of George II and George III, roughly 1727 to 1820. Mahogany, extolled by Chippendale, caused the pre-eminent wood of the time, namely walnut, to pass completely out of fashion. In the work Good Furniture, Vol. 4, by the Dean Hicks company (1914), they even wonder if the success of English cabinet makers of the period could have been attained without access to mahogany:

As they note in that text, and as cabinetmaker's of the period following about 1720 found through direct experience, that mahogany was a wood less liable to chip or check than oak, less likely to become worm-eaten than walnut, sound, tough, of uniform grain, procurable in large planks, rich in figure and color, and hence unrivaled for the purposes of cabinet making. Again, the mahogany they were talking about is not Honduras Mahogany, but 'Cuban' Mahogany. Reading about Cuban Mahogany and learning that it was THE mahogany in the time in which lots of mahogany furniture and ships were built on a large scale, has lead me to a strong desire to get a chance to work the s. mahagoni material. Obtaining it however, has been a bit like chasing a unicorn. I've seen it for sale sporadically over the years by private sellers here and there, and there has been someone on ebay trying to sell some of late at quite high prices. Not sure how successful he has been. And, like they say on the Hobbit house website,

A note on Cuban mahogany: this species is basically not available in lumber form these days. I think the best expression of this is (this is a slight paraphrase of a comment by Eric Meier of The Wood Database in an email to me): I just tell people that unless they actually live in Cuba, it's not Cuban mahogany and you're being delusionally optimistic to think otherwise.

So, when a few months back an ad appeared from a fellow offering to sell some Cuban Mahogany, I was interested but skeptical. I emailed him to ask his pricing, which was quoted as "$24~$28 per board foot". I didn't have the funds at the time to pursue it further, so I put the matter on the back burner, and besides, it was probably anything but the real thing. When the new cabinet project was in discussion with my client on the west coast, there came the point where he asked me which woods I recommended, and I said that I thought it would be great to carry the use of Shedua from the other cabinet I had built forward, and then pair it with mahogany. I was thinking exclusively of Honduran Mahogany, which is as likely as not to come from Peru these days, as that was what one would normally think of in respect to mahogany. When the client came back in approval of the plan to use those woods, I got to thinking about it more, and then remembered the ad from a few months back. I looked through my email and found the conversation and emailed the fellow again to see if he still had any stock. It turned out he still did have a fair amount. I then asked him how he knew it was Cuban Mahogany, given how rare a material that is. He replied that it was 'obvious' as the wood had a deeper purple tone, and was considerably denser and heavier than the Big Leaf Mahogany. That sounded good, however, I was still skeptical and asked him if he would provide me with a sample or two, thinking that I could take it to a wood lab near me for analysis. He said he would do that, and if I declined to buy any wood I could pay him for the postage, otherwise, if I did buy some wood, he would absorb the cost. Fair enough. A week or so later and two samples arrived, each about 8" square and 5/8" thick or so. Pulling them out of the package, I could immediately discern that the pieces were heaver than I would expect with Honduran Mahogany. I put in a call to the recently-retired UMass professor Bruce Hoadley, author of Identifying Wood and Understanding Wood, and left a message in regards to testing the samples I had. In the meantime, I did some further research, and learned that, by the conventional method of wood species identification, namely examining a cleaned portion of end grain under 10x~20x magnification and comparing physical features, swietenia mahagoni and swietenia macrophylla could not be distinguished. Hmm, a wrinkle in my plan.... I never did reach Professor Hoadley, though we had a fine game of phone tag for a while. I did manage to make contact with a Michael Wiemann, a botanist at the US Forest Service Forest Products Laboratory in Madison Wisconsin though. He confirmed just what I had read, that one cannot distinguish between the two mahoganies by the usual method. I was thinking he would point me to some modern high tech method that I imagined existed, something involving DNA analysis or near-infrared spectrographic methods, however he said that distinguishing between closely-related species remains a challenging task in his field. He then said that what he would do, if presented with my sample, is refer to some notes from a British text on the topic. He said he could send me a .pdf of the relevant section if I was interested (?). You bet I was! Reading that document, it turns out that the two mahoganies have a slight overlap in characteristics, looking at density, color, growth ring count, and so forth, so if you have a sample that sits in the zone of overlap, it is quite difficult to distinguish one from another. However if your sample is clearly sitting outside of that overlap zone, you can be reasonably sure of what you have. For color and density, I was quite clear on the fact that the samples I had were unlike Honduran Mahogany, at least in my experience. The key point came down to growth ring count, which, for s. macrophylla is 4~8 per inch, and for s. mahagoni 10~25 per inch. The samples were happily very clear in that regard, as the growth ring count I saw on both pieces was around 20 per inch. I was starting to feel fairly certain that I had stumbled upon some actual 'Cuban' Mahogany. I asked the seller for some more background on the material. I learned that it had been cut something like 40 years ago, and was from a wind-downed tree in the Florida Keys. He'd had it for about 20 years and had purchased it from another fellow, the person who obtained the wood from the trees originally, who had also squirreled it away for some 20 years. Some further reading from Mull's work True Mahogany revealed some other distinguishing characteristics in regards to mahogany from the Florida Keys:

Cool. The mahogany growing in the Florida Keys, at the northern end of the plant's growth range, proves to be the densest. And then:

It also seems to be the case that the mahogany from Florida has the shortest wood fibers of any mahogany in the New World. I decided that even if this material was not actually s. mahagoni, but just some really nice s. macrophylla, it was worth it at the price regardless. I bought all the seller's 8/4 material, and that is what arrived at my shop today. I'm excited to have captured a unicorn at last! After dragging the wood into my shop, I immediately trimmed off the bug-eaten portions where the sapwood had once been:

The above board was one of the worst in that regard. Did I mention 'bug-eaten'?:

I also did some jointing and planing. Here's a closer look at the surface of one board, where you can see the numerous white flecks on the face:

Those white flecks are called tyloses. I take them to be a sign of good material - at least when it came to Honduran Mahogany, where they are a rare occurrance, they had proved to be a sign of nice wood to work, and I'm thinking the same goes here. Cutting this material was relatively easy, and the sawdust has a smell similar to Honduran Mahogany. The wood though is significantly heavier than any Honduran Mahogany I have had my hands on. I'm 99% sure I have that unicorn. This is up there, for me, with finding Huanghuali or Zitan (that is, seriously unlikely to happen in my lifetime). Sometimes you get lucky I guess. The tree was on the order of 20" in diameter I would guess, with the widest board in my pile of 6 being 19" wide:

Edge-jointing after ripping the edge off:

I mentioned the growth ring detail - here's a close up of what swietenia mahagoni - the stuff I have -looks like:

I cleaned up, more or less, 5 of the 6 boards, and left the largest for the time being. Here's a 'family reunion' sort of photo, with the recently-acquired Honduran forming the backdrop:

Welcome to 'Mahogany World'. The one large plank of Honduran was trimmed last week, giving me these pieces of stock for the front door panels and the drawer floors of the cabinet:

I need

#woodworking #wood #working #miter #saws #Woodworking

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valiantarcher · 3 years ago

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For the poem asks: Christ walks the earth again/His lute upon His back./His red robe rent to tatters/His riches gone to wrack

Thank you for sending this in and for your patience in waiting; my apologies for the delay in responding! Like with the previous one, I had an immediate impression of the sort of story that would fit these lines but, unfortunately, I haven't read it. So, instead you get The Man Who was Magic by Paul Gallico. This is a book that has been on our shelves longer than I can remember, for it was my father's when he was younger, and the cover looks like this:

For years I have assumed it was a fable about the Biblical Adam and on the strength of that and the idea of roaming (with "riches gone to wrack"), all I had to do was read it to confirm the recommendation. So, I read it - and it's not about the Biblical Adam, nor is it an explicitly Christian story (and probably not implicitly either). But, if you make it past the "if you believe it, you can do it" surface-level moral, there are some wonderful pictures/elements that are so close and point towards something True - and on that strength, the recommendation stands.

#So please read it if you can find a copy and come back and tell me your thoughts #Because I haven't been able to nail them down but I'm still thinking about them a couple weeks later #You would've gotten 'Waking Beauty' as the recommendation if I hadn't previously recommended it to you... :P #lady-merian #Paul Gallico #The Man Who was Magic #I also thought about providing a WWII book recommendation but decided that might be a bit much unsolicited

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wanderlust225 · 7 years ago

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From Hell to Heaven in a day

I decided last night after watching a YouTube video of the "experience" that waking up at 3am to wait 2-3 hours to see a tuna auction just wasn't part of my personal Trip of a Lifetime. And one of the beautiful things about traveling by myself is that I don't have to do anything that I'm not really excited to do! So I slept in until 7am and then headed down towards the famed Tsukiji Market. I had a bit of time to spare when I arrived so I made a little side jaunt to the Hamarikyu Gardens. I wore my running clothes (because I wasn't about to put on clean clothes for fish guts) and decided to run around the Gardens -- until about 2 miles in when I was told that was forbidden in the gardens. Oops. Back at the fish market there was a lot of seafood for sale - surprise surprise! None of which I was at all interested in - again, surprise surprise! Jokes aside it was pretty cool walking around such a grand operation. It was hours after they had done the tuna auction and by 10am when we were finally allowed into the wholesale area, the vendors were already cleaning up to close down for the day which meant I got to see treasures like: a guy using the huge machete-sized knife to cut little pieces of tuna to eat himself, the last few bloody eel sitting in their ice baths and a complete tuna skeleton after all the meat had been disected. (Does the blog title make sense now?) Jokes aside, it was pretty cool to see the entire operation, especially for something like seafood which Japan is synonymous with and in a place where they've been doing this same kind of sales for so long. It was beautiful in a groteque type way (oh, and the cool blue crabs). The next part of my day was heavenly. I took the subway down to Shibuya and the Meiji Forest which was developed in the early 1900s (and then again after WWII) to honor the Emperor of the time who was a big proponent of opening the once closed culture to new (read: Western) traditions and technology, basically creating modern Japan. There is a gorgeous tree-lined walk through the forest to the Shinto shrine. Without a founder or holy book, Shinto simply asks its people to live with a sincere heart and divine spirit, which I think is lovely for so many reasons - not least of which is that everyone, regardless of their religious affiliations, can (should!) adhere to those values. Next stop (sorry I know this was abrupt) was a Cat Cafe Mocha!!!!! I thought I would get bored in 20 minutes but 50 minutes later I had to force myself to leave. Here is the beautiful story -- You put your shoes away in a cubby, don slippers they provide, a cat ear headband (if you're fun) and put your bag in another cubby (Asian cultures, as I've realized the whole trip, are big with cubbies and still have train station lockers!). Then they told me the rules; no picking up or carrying the cats, only petting when they come to you (*sad face*). Downstairs they had a coffee machine so I got a deliciously sweet caramel mocha, realized there were no cats downstairs and headed up. The first little guy I encountered was a super furry Siamese kitten that they put a strawberry hat on! Obviously, he did not look excited but was still friendly enough. As I took the steps upstairs, more and more cats kept appearing (Heaven!), first in a little cat tree with places they could sit and sleep and then from a circular structure with chairs adoring humans could sit around and tons of little passage ways the cats could move about the room through. I met about 5 new furry friends, including an adorable little kitten who went crazy purring and a minature cat (kind of the corgi of cats). Too much fun. I might have to go back. #donttelljack Sadly, all good things must come to an end though and I had to leave to be sure I had something to eat before my show. I headed to an Izakaya in Shibuya called Rackushokushu Maru and made it 98% of the way there before the skies opened. I ran the rest of the way, too stubborn to buy an umbrella and down a set of stairs it was super cozy inside. At 5pm I was the only customer (again), but it came highly recommended so I sat down at the bar and met my new friend / waitress / personal cook Misaki Suzuki. I was presented with about 5 different menus (drinks, set menu, a la carte, specials, etc, all in English) and right after I said "no fish" and Misaki helped me pick out a few dishes, she presented me with an Amuse bouche which was spinach in a sardine sauce / soup. Great. She watched me eat it, so I had to look like I was enjoying it… it was salty enough to be tolerable. The rest though was magical: - Starter: white fig topped with creamed tofu and walnuts - Starter 2: grilled eggplant with a sweet and salty walnut and miso smooth and crusty paste - heavenly! They served it with a maple leaf, which was just the right size to look like a pot leaf. Misaki informed me that the eggplant was from Kyoto! - Main: Kobe beef which was the smoothest beef I had ever had - practically melted in your mouth. They served it with rice and soy sauce in the cutest little square shaped pouring glass #stylegoals - Extra: Misaki was making something that looked like Mochi so I asked what it was and she explained it was from Kyoto; a style of gluten free "bread." Then, she made me a special dish - she grilled the bread, put some of the walnut miso paste and then suggested I wrap it in dried seaweed. It was salty and sweet with a faint ocean taste - super distinctive and a cool texture and very, unusually yummy. - At the end of my meal she first gave me the restaurant card and then her personal card. I must say this about traveling alone - it leaves you vulnerable, and not just in a bad way. In a great way that means that you are open to meeting new people and having a discussion with them. - Misuki and another male waiter walked me out (up the stairs and everything!) to bow as I left the restaurant AND then they gave me an umbrella!! I could cry it was so sweet. Finally I headed to the Robot Restaurant in Shinjuku, a MUST DO from everyone I talked to about Japan. It was raining hard but I was determined to make it. I got there almost exactly on time and was shown into the "warming up" room with a bar, singer in a cocktail dress and three men dressed as robots playing piano, guitar and the sax. Ok... I got my complimentary beer and popcorn and moved to the main room with the other tourists. I think kitchy is the only way to explain the next hour of my life... while there were many actors in robot costumes, there were also simply people pushing sets around the teeny tiny stage and then a few actual "robots." The robots were followed by ninjas carrying around remote co!ntrolers and dressed in black ninja costumes so they wouldn't be noticed. It was loud, colorful and the women were incredibly scantiliy dressed - all obvious reasons why it was a big hit! I will say this - it was certainly entertaining and certainly something I expected to see on my visit to Japan.

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jessestoddard · 7 years ago

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Welcome to Chapter 10 of my blog-to-book project: Life After High School: Secrets To A Successful Life By Those Who Have Had Twenty Years To Think About It (or) What They Didn’t Teach Us Gen Xers In High School. This chapter is called Gift Registry. If you missed the last post, click here, otherwise, you can start at the beginning here.

September 6th, 2004, on her birthday, I married Mae del Puerto. I had proposed to her on the ferry-boat coming back into Anacortes from Shaw Island. She was mad about some screaming kid and I interrupted her and asked her to marry me. Talk about interrupting someone’s pattern! I have no idea if it was romantic or random or both, but it worked.

I went and asked her father’s permission. Being much older, he is not only from a previous generation (WWII), but also a different culture (the Philippines), and was not too happy with our new fangled way of living our lives (in sin), which he was showing by being very cold to me and giving me more of the silent treatment on top of the silent treatment he normally dished out.

I must admit now, that I don’t agree with our choices anymore either, proving once again that I am a crotchety old man before my time. The only thing he said to me that day was: “It’s about time.” I quickly got out my English-In-A-Visayan-Philippino-Dialect-With-Spanish-Accent Dictionary and translated it into: “Welcome to the family. Now, don’t screw it up.”

We were married at the lookout point in Washington park and just happened to have the best sunset in the history of man that evening. It was just her parents, mine, and her brother’s immediate family.

I should have kept it at that.

We felt we needed to do something for our extended family and friends (as two bright-eyed newlyweds are bound to do) and therefore threw a reception party on my birthday on September 13th. We thought that was cute and clever, and it’s easier to remember. The reception was great, except it cost me selling my Microsoft stock which I had been accumulating over the years since before the split, which would have turned into a lot more money if I had held it even longer.

The money is gone, we never even got to eat, and most of the people there don’t like us anyway.

Word to the wise: Stop caring about trying to please everyone, since you always end up looking like a jerk and people get jealous.

…

We did the whole registration thing, yet every single guest did the same exact thing! They all completely ignored our list.

“Honey, do you think we should get Mae and Jesse these highly utilitarian things that they might actually use on a regular basis?”

“Oh, they’re such a fun couple, let’s just get them that martini shaker.”

My wife and I don’t even drink!

Still, we end up with 4 plates and three thousand dollars worth of barware.

We could have opened our own tavern.

They either thought we were a bunch of lushes, or that we’d be divorced in a week.

“Those two are getting married? Good luck. Better get ‘em that set of shot glasses. They’re gonna need to start drinking right away.”

Before our wedding, we were still doing everything backward. Mae bought a timeshare and we went to Hawaii on our honeymoon… Did I mention it was before our wedding? After our wedding, we went to the Philippines to meet her family… After the fact.

We traveled a bit and also saw Singapore and Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia. I was the only white guy on their island and it was not far from where only months after the news ran stories about the American that got beheaded by Muslim terrorists in their training camp. I was not uncomfortable at all. It was Meet The Parents meets Machetes.

I have thus far failed to mention that I continued to work in the fitness industry throughout the years. I worked around the clock during this period of my life and I did not sleep much.

As my grandpa always said, “You can sleep when you are dead.”

He’s dead, and I am tired, so I tend to try to avoid sleep deprivation now.

However, in my twenties, I had the need for money when I wasn’t working in the theater, and the gym job provided a good place to return to. I worked my way up to being assistant manager and personal trainer.

At one point, the owner offered me a chance to become a partner. I should have taken it, but I thought I might move away to New York or L.A. at a moments notice, so I turned it down. I probably should have taken the deal, as he was offering a chance to work my way into equity without having to come with cash of my own, which is extremely rare.

At one point, I worked for Pure Fitness, a chain of six clubs in Washington, run by an evil genius of an older used-car-lot style fitness mafia, era as their corporate sales manager.

I ran up and down the high rises of downtown Seattle and drove out to Bellevue and all around the area, trying to get entire companies to sign up for memberships all at once. The payoff was potentially very large for me, so I did hustle for a time. I landed a couple of huge accounts, namely Costco and Best Buy.

The commission check should have been on the order of sixty-thousand dollars, but right before that would happen, the managers above me decided to move me from one club to another and claimed that commissions I generated belonged to the former club and would not be transferred, so I was back to zero. I quit instead of fighting or suing. Unbeknownst to me, this started a string of negative business events that plagued me for years.

After Pure Fitness, I talked the powers that be at the 5th Avenue Theater (whom some affectionately called the gay mafia—their words not mine) into hiring me on in a business capacity, rather than as a performer. I explained all of my experience doing a variety of things in other fields, and they thought I would be a good fit to fill in as company manager for their new experimental launch of a show called Princesses.

The regular manager left the area to go work summer stock out-of-state, so they needed a fill-in. The 5th Avenue has a fine reputation for acting as an incubator for shows destined for Broadway, preparing and testing out a production in a lower-cost environment before sending it off to Broadway. It worked for Hairspray.

The problem for me was that I had no idea what I was doing.

I called the regular company manager, and after explaining my situation he was dumbfounded. He normally had to help out with travel arrangements for a small handful of people, while the rest of the ensemble and crew were locals. It was still tough to coordinate, but he had a simple system that worked. I explained to him that I was in charge of being the travel agent to a huge cast, and a huge crew and every single person needed to have separate arrangements at different times. He admitted he could not help, had no idea even what to recommend, and wished me luck.

To be fair, the men in charge did tell me they would get me help, which I did take them up on with an assistant, but I was at the time feeling guilty about not being able to handle it all myself on at least an organizational level, if not with all the details. The assistant I had would take some trips to the airport and handle a few things, but I was flying out to New York myself during some rehearsals and then back and working extra hours and getting very stressed out.

I felt the pay was abysmal, and I started questioning the entire arrangement, as more and more calls came in with greater and greater demands from all of these divas who fancied themselves important.

Finally, one night the choreographer called me up in the middle of the night ranting and cussing and telling me he would have my job because his taxi did not arrive. I worked to get him the ride, but he was so mad, that I was shaken up. It was the middle of the night and I had not had any free time in weeks, and I was on the edge of cracking.

I decided that night to craft a two-week notice letter. I offered to train someone to take my place and would not just leave them abruptly.

The next morning the artistic director called me and with rage cussed me out and told me to come back to work or he never wanted to see me again. It turned out it was an awkward end that would never be resolved. I tried to help out, but someone else was there to kind of tell me to go away.

Apparently, the director meant it and I have never seen him again.

Years later, I wrote him to apologize for my error of judgment. I feel I could have just asked for more help or perhaps just worked through it, and he did accept the apology. I am not sure who is at fault, but I am sorry either way. The Princesses show ended up being a flop and never went anywhere, and my career in local theater was destroyed.

I had just pissed off one of the most powerful people in the Seattle theater scene. Years passed before I ever did anything again, and by then I was much too old to be a chorus boy, which was my bread and butter.

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In the next post, I will continue with more interesting interviews.

Are you from Generation X? I want to hear what you think! Please comment below and participate in the conversation about What They Didn’t Teach Us Gen Xers In High School. What do you wish someone told you when you were eighteen?

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Life After High School: Chapter 11 Gift Registry Welcome to Chapter 10 of my blog-to-book project: Life After High School: Secrets To A Successful Life By Those Who Have Had Twenty Years To Think About It

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