FOR FRIENDS FAR & WIDE.

News.

	02 December 2004 MOVIE: WHAT THE #$*! DO WE KNOW!? (2004). Quantum theory holds the key to transforming our daily lives. I have to admit, the only reason I saw this documentary was because a) it was a nice rainy day, and b) I felt a curious skepticism at a critic's quote: "Mind-blowing!" So we walked in, shook the water from our umbrellas, and proceeded to have our minds not blown but utterly deflated. "What the #$*! Do We Know!?"? More like "What the Fuck is this Horseshit!?" Ridiculous title aside, this film actually posits an awesome idea: particles exist as probability spheres, and human thought exists as a series of chemical (i.e. particle) reactions--therefore, thoughts have the ability to influence matter. Mind over matter, indeed. But What the #$*! goes about explaining this theory with such unevenness, repetition, and embarassing, new-agey cheesiness that any of its compelling sub-arguments sailed over our heads as we sank lower and lower in our seats. For 108 minutes, we're subjected to a meandering storyline that I guess was supposed to personalize quantum theory: a jaded Portland (of course) photographer (ah yes) refuses to see the worlds of possibilty surrounding her; a wise black kid at the newly gentrified basketball court spews scripted aphorisms; microscopic cells, computer-rendered to look like gummi bears, dance in a peptide rain to Robert Palmer's Addicted to Love. Oh god. Here we are now, flying through webs of space, time, and neuron clusters. And now we're watching fools cavorting at an wedding reception for 30 minutes. Days later, I still don't really know why. If you've seen the far superior Mindwalk or even the hauntingly abstract A Brief History of Time, you already know all that stuff about how the universe consists of mostly nothing, and how we're all interconnected in a web of quantum relationships. The only real take-away from this desperate ivory-tower attempt at edutainment "fun" is this query: if we have the power to mold matter through thought, then why do we continually choose to create the same grim realities over and over again? It's a question worth asking often. Just not with fucking gummi bears. The trick to living is not to be "in the know." It's to be "in the mystery."   Back to main 01 December 2004 PHOTO DIARY. Across the street from work, Tower Records has installed a new jumbotron that evidently receives a feed from a Windows computer, judging from this ginormous Internet Explorer browser window. Talk about your pervasive computing.   Back to main PHOTO DIARY. Here's a model of what the new IAC Los Angeles building, located right across the street, is supposed to look like. This is what it looks like currently.   Back to main 29 November 2004 GAME: MARIO POWER TENNIS (2004). It's tennis, Mario style. Remember Virtua Tennis for Dreamcast? It had finesse, depth, strategy, celebrity players, and twitch all elegantly packaged in one single thumb-bruising experience. Well. I can't believe I'm saying this, but: Mario Power Tennis is actually better. Sure, it's got gimmick courts set in the jungle, or frozen tundra, and it's also got cartoonish "power shots" that unleash themselves after players reach a certain threshold (big rubber mallet, meet flaming tennis ball). But what Power Tennis really excels at is, um, regular old tennis. Gameplay is hectic as hell: you'll find yourself chording bizarre button combos or tapping out perfectly timed rhythms in order to perform drop shots or lobs; unlike Virtua Tennis' relatively simpler control scheme of point-and-swing, Power Tennis more closely mirrors the mental prep time required to switch shots during actual tennis. Drop shot? Hustle, tap A-B just before winding up for the swing, and release. Only Nintendo-native games force me to do such strange (but oddly satisfying) thumb contortions. I could go into the kooky, Mario World-flavored challenges this game also has to offer, but nah. Nothing tops the eerie quality of Virtual Tennis' surreal practice courts. And ultimately, Mario Power Tennis is not so much an obsessive journey as it is a simple, instant-action game that anyone can pick up to enjoy a quick battle or two. Or three. GAMEPLAY: Intense, nerve-wracking action strategy that seriously tests your reaction time and coordination. REMINISCENT OF: Virtual Tennis. LIBRARY WORTHY? Absolutely. Slip it alongside Mario Golf: Toadstool Tour, which is a similarly deep sports game disguised as kid stuff.   Back to main PHOTO DIARY. Hope everybody had a good Thanksgiving weekend. Me & Nik roasted a ten-pound turkey with maple glaze. Not pictured: potato salad, pumpkin pie, and green beans. Then we sat in front of the A/V Cart and played much Ratchet & Clank. Yesterday we finally made it out of the house to hit all the South Bay beach towns. We saw this localized street sign in Redondo Beach. We stopped by a seafood place for lunch. Yes--I'll have the macaroin salad with freedom fries. Then we toured a creepy old arcade on the Boardwalk, where we found an R-Type cabinet in good condition... ...an old Pong cabinet, and finally, as the piece de resistance... ...an original Michael Jackson's Moonwalker game, in which you dance your enemies into a vulnerable state of distraction. Further south, we stopped by the Friendship Bell in San Pedro. You know, it's where Keaton, Verbal Kint, Fenster, and the rest of the gang go to meet Redfoot's posse in The Usual Suspects. The bell temple is the real deal. Very transporting. It was donated by Korea in 1976 as a token of friendship. The bell weighs seventeen tons. Later, in Belmont Shore (just south of Long Beach City), we saw this handwritten sign in a Thai restaurant window. Nice to see my company's products out there in the real world.   Back to main Archives. 17 August 2003 — 24 August 2003 — 31 August 2003 — 07 September 2003 — 14 September 2003 — 02 November 2003 — 09 November 2003 — 16 November 2003 — 23 November 2003 — 30 November 2003 — 07 December 2003 — 01 February 2004 — 08 February 2004 — 15 February 2004 — 22 February 2004 — 29 February 2004 — 07 March 2004 — 14 March 2004 — 21 March 2004 — 28 March 2004 — 04 April 2004 — 11 April 2004 — 18 April 2004 — 25 April 2004 — 02 May 2004 — 09 May 2004 — 16 May 2004 — 23 May 2004 — 30 May 2004 — 06 June 2004 — 13 June 2004 — 20 June 2004 — 27 June 2004 — 04 July 2004 — 11 July 2004 — 18 July 2004 — 25 July 2004 — 01 August 2004 — 08 August 2004 — 15 August 2004 — 22 August 2004 — 29 August 2004 — 05 September 2004 — 12 September 2004 — 19 September 2004 — 26 September 2004 — 03 October 2004 — 10 October 2004 — 17 October 2004 — 24 October 2004 — 31 October 2004 — 07 November 2004 — 14 November 2004 — 21 November 2004 — 28 November 2004 — 05 December 2004 — 12 December 2004 — 19 December 2004 — 26 December 2004 — 02 January 2005 — 09 January 2005 — 23 January 2005 — 30 January 2005 — 06 February 2005 — 13 February 2005 — 20 February 2005 — 27 February 2005 — 13 March 2005 — 20 March 2005 — 27 March 2005 — 03 April 2005 — 10 April 2005 — 17 April 2005 — 24 April 2005 — 01 May 2005 — 08 May 2005 — 22 May 2005 — 29 May 2005 — 05 June 2005 — 12 June 2005 — 19 June 2005 — 26 June 2005 — 03 July 2005 — 10 July 2005 — 17 July 2005 — 24 July 2005 — 31 July 2005 — 07 August 2005 — 14 August 2005 — 28 August 2005 — 04 September 2005 — 25 September 2005 — 02 October 2005 — 09 October 2005 — 30 October 2005 — 06 November 2005 — 13 November 2005 — 20 November 2005 — 27 November 2005 — 04 December 2005 — 18 December 2005 — 01 January 2006 — 08 January 2006 — 15 January 2006 — 22 January 2006 — 05 February 2006 — 26 February 2006 — 12 March 2006 — 19 March 2006 — 26 March 2006 — 02 April 2006 — 16 April 2006 — 23 April 2006 — 30 April 2006 — 07 May 2006 — 14 May 2006 — 21 May 2006 — 04 June 2006 — 18 June 2006 — 25 June 2006 — 16 July 2006 — 23 July 2006 — 06 August 2006 — 13 August 2006 — 03 September 2006 — 17 September 2006 — 01 October 2006 —