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PHOTO DIARY.

The other morning I noticed a leaf on the ground. But it wasn't a leaf.
It was a grasshopper.


After seeing a play downtown, we took a close-up gander at the Walt Disney Concert Hall. It uses the same damn reflective plates as our office building.


How To Use illustration on the back of a pair of kitchen shears from a home goods store in Chinatown.


 
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MOVIE: MAD HOT BALLROOM (2005).
Brooklyn elementary school pupils take ballroom dancing lessons for competition. Oh come on, now: here we have a documentary about ten-year-olds learning how to merengue. You cannot. Go. Wrong.

Think about everything that dance is: touching members of the opposite sex; being brave enough to express oneself with one's own body, in front of strangers, with strangers; mastering grown-up etiquette; and keeping poise under the pressure to succeed. Now throw in a bunch of children on the brink of young adulthood, and it's enough to make you cringe with glee.

The metaphor is apt. These children, mostly lower-class, are forced by their harsh environments to grow up far too quickly. Off the dance floor they idly chat about what kind of fathers and mothers they want to become: non-abusive, drug-free, stable and educated, all echoes of their disappointed parents' wishes. The everyday tragedy of such unwillingly abandoned innocence crystallizes during the final dance contest, where it seems that the entire future is at stake. The newly articulate girl, the precocious, curly-headed boy with endearingly misguided dreams of becoming an architect, the chubby, tough-guy-to-be explaining the importance of love, without a trace of the machismo that will surely be forced upon him during his teenage years—all are about to crash headlong into reality, and we are there to see their first bold, naive steps. An awesomely heady mix of desperation, hope, and melancholy nostalgia.

I wanna be an architect! Because when you're an architect, first of all, you can earn a lot of money and second of all, it's the only job you can really really use your imagination to make something. Like, if I were gonna make that building, I wouldn't make it like that. That's a really ugly, boring building.

 
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MOVIE: THE SQUID & THE WHALE (2005).
Two Brooklyn brothers must deal with their parents' sudden breakup. It's hard enough to scale the tragicomic arc without falling into the abyss of quirky preciousness—dealing with well-trod themes like divorce & coming-of-age just make things harder. Miraculously, this film somehow makes the journey in stride, and manages to portray a family of writers (!) living in Park Slope (!!) in the '80's (!!!) without a hint of the hipster frigidity you might expect. In fact, it manages many things with an effortless economy, and even dares to directly mention its own odd title several times—the sort of thing that would normally make one want to binge-eat out of anger.

The story focuses not on situations or setting, but characters so subtly executed that they defy simple retelling. The older son who mimics the pretentious declarations of his has-been writer of a father; the neglected little brother going through puberty in unexpectedly shocking (yet somehow expected) ways. Little goodies like William Baldwin playing the gentle moron of a tennis instructor only add to the delight. And this slow fugue of angst, told with Tenenbaumian, deadpan precision, finally culminates with the best use of Lou Reed's Street Hassle ever. You'll see.

Imagine Don's cock in mom's mouth.

 
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