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Deadwood Recap: "The Catbird Seat" (warning: spoilers.)

Can I just scream, on behalf of all the people who watch the show, FINALLY!!!

After waiting ALL season for the fireworks to kick off between Hearst and the camp, it finally (finally) starts with an unlikely murder and even more unlikely shooting in Hearst's own hotel. But, I'll take it slowly (see: subtitle).

Bullock isn't around. He's "campaigning" in the nearby town of Sturgis. In the beginning of the episode, him and his crew are debating whether he should continue his campaign away from Deadwood and somehow decide that he should. Despite the attack on Alma Ellsworth last week that had him rushing back to town. Basically, they decide that he'll have to rush back when - not if - the war begins.

Hearst meets with two black-suited nameless henchman (who else misses Col. Turner?) and intones a simple but ominous line, "You're clear on the order of the killings?"

Farnum is still in his cubbyhole of an apartment, still having not wiped off Hearst's spit from a previous episode. It is another degrading and sad moment for this punching bag of a character. A part of me starts to feel bad for him, but then I remember he's a loser and everything that is happening to him he made happen himself or deserved in account of his awful treatment of his slave worker and erstwhile confidant, Richardson.

Next scene finds Ellsworth, one of the best characters of the show's three year run and fifty character roster, having a very long and involved discussion about Alma with a dog. One of the henchman shows up and puts a bullet in Ellsworth's forehead.

The next scenes blur together into an excited rampage of violence and fright. Alma reeling with grief in the middle of the thoroughfare, Utter running into The Gem shouting, "Ellsworth's been shot!" are classic Deadwood moments. Everyone realizes what's going on and immediately reaches for weapons. There's a strange confusion in the air as the characters - much like the audience - have no idea what's going to happen next.

What happens is as dramatic as you can imagine. A character who has come dangerously close to irrelevant in this new season, Trixie, sees Ellsworth's body being dragged through the camp and decides she's sick to fucking death of this fucking Hearst guy. She pulls her trusty gun from her trusty bra and jabs it into her dress. She then takes her shirt off and parades right past Hearst's guards in the lobby of the Grand Central, who are as you can imagine distracted, and marches right up to Hearst's door. He is fearless and a little dumb. He opens the door, greeted by not one display of exposed flesh but two, and is completely surprised by the gun in her hand. She fires, but misses her intended target - his black, greedy heart - and hits him in the shoulder. She flees, while the guards scurry up the stairs strangely (and unbelievably) ignoring Trixie.

Meanwhile, Swearengen is sheltering Alma again while Utter goes to fetch Sofia and Jane (tragically underused) watches over the kids in their tree-shaped school house. The battle, it seems, is underway in a quiet way.

Hearst, guarded well (this time), marches through camp with blood pouring down his arm on the way to the doctor. A chilling scene follows as the Doc mends Hearst's bullet wound not five feet from Ellsworth's cold body.

Sofia is thankfully returned to Alma, where she has the sad duty of informing young Sofia about Ellsworth's fate. Sofia demands to see Mr. Ellsworth, to "feel his beard" one last time. Alma and Al and then Alma and the Doc have very interesting conversations about Sofia and what happened to her family way back in the beginning of season 1.

Bullock finally returns (again) to comfort Alma and Sofia. He doesn't really do or say much (as usual), but gives them all good hugs. Mrs. Bullock, as usual, is absent from all important things during the course of the episode.

There's a charming scene between Richardson and Jewel, fourth (possibly fifth)-tier characters in the Deadwood hegemony.

One of my favorite characters enters the scene with as much fanfare as one would expect of such a lofty and high-faluten individual, Wu. The exchange between Wu and Sweargen is important, but lacks the pure fun and silliness of their earlier conversations over the last three or four episodes. But there was a wonderful moment at the end when Wu gets up close to Swearengen, locks his middle and right index finger together and says, "HANGDI!" which I believe means best friend in Chinese. Swearengen gives him a nod, a "Hangdi!" and sends him off to collect his 150 chinks from Custer City.

Next week, the war begins (or ends?) in earnest with the season/series finale.

But, fellow Deadwood fans, don't fret! Regular episodes of the show may be over, but HBO is planning two (that's right, two!) Deadwood TV-movies (read: long episodes) for sometime in 2007. I'm guessing one of them will involve the summation of the Hearst storyline and the second will involve the famous Deadwood fire that destroyed the town in 1879.

Goodbye Stargate SG-1!

With a heavy dose of sadness, I learned today SciFi Channel has announced that it is cancelling Stargate SG1 after 10 seasons.

This announcment comes on the heels of last week's "200," the wild 200th episode of the series that featured, among other things, a puppet version of SG1, a Star Trek and a Wizard of Oz sequence, and an SG1 version of Buffy and Farscape. It was funny, although loaded (*cough* overloaded) with injokes. The payoff was supposed to be the return of Richard "MacGuyver" Anderson as Jack O'Neil, but he just sort of came back and cracked some jokes. There was no real action or danger. Couldn't he have killed one of those Baal clones, just for fun?

But, anyway, SciFi unsuprisingly cancelled SG1 and renewed Atlantis, which has never sparked my interest, unfortanetly, despite my love of all things Stargate. Maybe with SG1 going off the air, I'll give Atlantis another shot. With my old flame Star Trek off the TV air and now my longtime friend, SG1 gone as well, my TV will be disturbingly quiet. Thank the Gods for Battlestar Galactica!!

The ironic thing is that SG1, in my opinion, has picked up speed over the last two years. The Go'uld story has been done for three seasons and last year's introduction of the Ori as Big Bads and the welcome arrival of some fresh blood into the cast reinvigorated the series. The decision to focus (at least in the first quarter of this tenth season) on stand-alone episode is an odd one, but the Ori episodes will apparently kickstart as of this Friday and I'm looking forward to what they come up with, especially in light of The End of Everything. Right now, they have the Ori looking like some unsumorntable mountian pass, with their ships blowing up everything in sight without getting scratched by the good guys. I predict a very grim and darkening future suddenly looking bright and winnable much like the finale of SG1's best episode, season 7's The Lost City. Should be fun.

As the saga that began with a much-loved film starring Kurt Russel in 1994 ends, I find myself in a reflective mood. I started watching SG1 in response to my awful reaction to Star Trek's hick cousin, Enterprise, and couldn't have been happier with the drama, the fun, the humor, and the action of SG1's early seasons. I was so enthused, I made my friends watch endless hours of the show and for awhile there, we were definite, um, whatever you call Stargate fans. Middle-season syndrome kicked in and a lot of bad episodes followed which I watched, thankfully, alone. After leaving San Francisco and my fellow nerd-loving friends, my Stargate love didn't diminish, but actually increased, though the episodes may not have been as original and fun and interesting as the past, it partly reminded me of those calm and wonderful afternoons watching SG1 episodes when we should have been doing homework or something equally productive. In its last years, SG1 managed to impress the hell out of me a few times by its ability to tell its own brand of storylines. And yet at the same time, I felt like they had gotten so good at telling their stories, they didn't push the envelope anymore or try bold new things, because the same old things were so comfortable to them. So, this decision is probably for the best.

Goodbye Teal'c, I''ll miss you, even though you haven't really done anything interesting in two years. Goodbye Sam, I'll miss you, you were one of the best and most consistent elements of the series, I'll cherish every last page-long technobabbley diatribe. Goodbye Mitchell, you the best thing to happen to the show in years. Goodbye Valla, your inclusion into a regular series role was the smartest thing the producers could have done after last year's uneven season. And goodbye Daniel, I'll miss you most of all. You came so far. A wild-eyed and innocent boy in the movie, a distraught husband intent on finding his wife in the early seasons, your dramatic death, your even more dramatic return, and all the wonderful and passionate things that happenned in between. Even though you left the show for awhile, I never got the impression from watching that you were bored or unhappy to be there. For that, me and all the other fans, are grateful.

To the hardworking writers, producers, extras, set designers, special effect artists, and everyone else that worked on the show, I thank you for your years of hardwork and for ten wonderful years of Stargate SG-1.

Lollapalooza 2006 was..

A celebration. A tradition. A party. A gathering.

It was a festival, but maybe Mega-Festival is more accurate. Huge. Massive. In both space, people, and berth. The incredible lineup of 100+ bands is enough to make someone's head spin and it was so complelety overcrowded, it reminded me of some kickass band in a tiny club. Still, it was incredibly organized and perfectly timed. Very little sound trouble, no overlap. Bands were absolutely forbidden to go past their allotted time (much to fans disappointment), but it ended up making the whole thing flow surprisngly well.

Pitchfork criticized it as a "hotel festival" catering to the older "stroller"-crowd. And yes, there were much less dirty unshaven hippies walking around wearing Umprhey's McGee t-shirts, but is that a bad thing? Yes, there was some strollers. And yes, there were a lot of drunk college kids. And then there were lots of teenagers.

Truly, there is never been an all-encompassing style, taste, genre overlap than Lollapalooza 2006. If you came, you almost definitely saw one of your favorite bands. Headliners were Death Cab for Cutie (cool young people like Shawn and I), Kayne West (younger and cool and hipper kids who listen to shitty music most of the time and good music occasionally) and The Red Hot Chili Peppers (old people).


Not only was the lineup impressive as gold, but the setting was perfect. Chicago is GORGEOUS. After two years of flat Miami, this spiky wonderland of modern and recently modern archeteicture was eye-opening. Gothamesque (is that a word? it is now.) The festival was situated in Grant Park, right in the heart of downtown on the lakefront. Centered by the Buckingham Fountain (popularied in Married With Children), it stretched across two huge fields with four large stages and four smaller intimate stages set into the trees. There was music everywhere, whispering on the wind in the distance or pounding up close as you rush by to catch the end of someone's set. Surrounded by beautiful buildings, listening to some of your favorite bands, it's an extremely memorable experience.

Musical Standouts: Stars. Canada's forgotten little art-indie-band put on an impassioned set full of broad and beautiful strokes and lots of lots of heart. My Morning Jacket, from Kentucky, played like champions, perfectly comfortable on the second largest stage in the festival, playing for a fraction of the audience the other "big" bands got. They were electrified on stage and I ate it up, gyrating and dancing like a drunk teenager.


Death Cab for Cutie pack so much more of a rock out WOW! factor live than they do on their records, especially the more recent work which has the glossy professionalism of Serious Musicians. But live, they are like kids again, obsessed with the sound guitars and drums make when played loudly and in tandem. They played for over an hour and a half and it was a full on assault of Rock! Notably, the extended "We Looked Like Giants" with Ben Gibbard on guitar, then drums, then guitar again. "Transatlanticism," just like last time, was like an epiphany.


Our second day started off well with some great Chicago deep-dish pizza. Delicious stuff. At the festival, it was kind of a waiting day for some of the big names in the evening. Still, we enjoyed sets by Feist, the impressive Calexico, and a little bit of the Go-Team. And then it was time for The Flaming Lips!
Now, I've seen the shtick a few times now. I've seen the balloons, the Space Bubble, the confetti, the extended coda to Yoshimi. And it still kicked ass! Wayne's voice seemed a little hoarse, but they were still able to rock out with a big helping of festival standards (Race for the Prize, Do You Realize?, etc) and a few of the newer and prettier tracks. Didn't play the brilliant "The ambulance Driver," though, much to my disappointment. Still, any day with the Flaming Lips is a good day. (Side note: walked past lead singer and ultimate indie rocker, Wayne Coyne, in downtown Chicago the next day. I said, "Hey Wayne! Great show last night." He smiled, said, "Thanks" and walked another a couple steps before being waylaid by other Lollaers wanting his picture. I was proud of myself for not being a fanboy, but damn, I would have loved a picture with Wayne and I.)

An unforgettable moment followed the Flaming Lips show. Right after it ended, right across the field, another great and favorite band, Theievry Corporation, started up their set. It was like going from one pyschadelic extreme to another. We were still walking and dancing across the field. It felt great, like the way life should be every day. And as for Theievery Corp, they killed. I've seen them before in a small intimate setting and I just didn't feel the same power as on their records. But, as the sun set on another beautiful day in Chicago, they rocked out with highlights from all their records. The always enteraining Corporation came out and sang in multiple languages. Lolla founder Perry Ferrel came out and sang "Revolution Solution" to feasts of applause.


The next day brought more bands and tons more people. Sunday, in Lollapalooza, was so full and epic, it was dizzying. (Maybe it was the heat.) And though we got tired and drained, the one band we were waiting for all weekend came on second-to-last and we rocked out like we've never rocked out in our lives. Broken Social Scene came on for forty-five glorious minutes and played their hearts out. They brought the whole band. It was a party onstage and off. Their songs, especially those off the second album, make so much sense played live with the full force of a dozen members on guitar or horn. The epic "Shoreline" and "Ibi Dreams of Pavement" were soaring and could be heard across Lake Michigan and into Canada. The quiet and beautiful "Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old" sung by four very talented ladies was great and a momentary chance to catch our breath before dancing and going all crazy. The fans cheered for almost twenty minutes after they were done, begging for "one more song! one more song!" and booing the Red Hot Chili Peppers as they started across the field. It was an unforgettable performance and the realization of a dream of mine to see Broken Social Scene perform that I've had for almost five years now.


So, to sum up, Lollapalooza was (is and always will be hopefully) an incredible experience for every music fan. I went to Lollapalooza '96 ten years and had a wonderful time with a group of fellow high schoolers. Ten years later, I had a great time as an adult. If there is a Lollapalooza 2016, I will be there, proudly, with stroller in hand.

Musical Interlude

Couple albums that have taken me lately:



TV on the Radio - Return to Cookie Mountain

Finally! This is the breakthrough break-out break-in blowed up piece of musical shrapnel that will take over the world, if enough people hear it. This is a fully complete TVOTR album, fulfilling the potential of the original EP and minus the occasional lapse in judgment and weak bridge of their debut album. There are rhythms and melodies that are completely original, utterly TV on the Radio. The two new members - an actual human drummer and a smooth bassist - add much needed dimension to a band that strives for something greater than just music. This is passion in sonic form. Their lyrics are passionate and topical. There is talk of war that feels so personal we're not sure if they're meaning Iraq or some kind of personal relationship battle. There are images of floods and homes drowned and we know it is the ghost of Katrina. TV on the Radio are notorious as some of the only non-whitey indie rock music, but here they are more than just a color or a city or a genre, they are a statement of purpose and power.



Phoenix - It's Never Been Like That

This is the little band that could. As in, you can hear the potential on their songs, but I could never sit through one of their albums. A combination of boredom, repetition anxiety, and frank disillusionment would set in. Not this time. This is an kick-ass rocker of an album from start to finish. Phoenix seem to have let down their hair a little with this one. The tightness and over-calculated attention to detail of their previous works were admirable but not necessarily enjoyable. Again, not here. This album is simply fun. It is a breathe of fresh air. It lacks the pretentiousness of a lot of other, similar, bands that employ synths as if the 90's never happened, who sing in high-pitched flare unconscious of any metrosexual connotations, and whose lyrics don't make any rational sense, but are fun to sing along to. One of the best albums of 2006.

Our Mistake

The Middle East is about to erupt. There’s a war in Lebanon, a conflict that threatens to spell over into Syria. There’s chaos and rebellion in Gaza. There’s a civil war in Iraq. The pawns are on the field, killing each other. The major players, The United States, Iran, Russia, and China are still in shadow, waiting for their time to intervene.

Neighbors to the north, the European Union watches with apprehension. They know world wars. They know what they feel like, what they sound like, when they’re coming. They may not be able to see the smoke over the mountains, but they watch the explosions firsthand on TV. Neighbors to the South, Africa turns away from its own problems for a moment to watch the display on their doorstep.

Everyone has their reasons. Israel strives to defend itself. The Islamic jihadists seek power and the fulfillment of their prayers. The rich and the powerful protect only themselves.

Meanwhile, America waits, a slumbering giant whose selfishness and short-sightedness opened the door for this conflict.

What if there had been someone in our current administration who could read between the lines and think proactively? What if someone could have seen this coming?

For a moment there, when the Iraqis voted, when the suicide bombers in Israel, when we seemed poised for victory in peace, I believed our President.

I believed Democracy was the reason for the Iraq invasion and that once seeded in Iraq, it could and would spread across the region. Well, it has. Elections have brought criminals into power. The people voted based on their religion, based not on the facts, but the image and the propaganda. Look what happened when people did that in this country.

The biggest mistake, though, was we had misplaced faith as well. We believed in them, in the regular Arab and Israeli people of the Middle East who would rise to the occasion of democracy. Who would allow peace into their hearts if it meant safety, security, and separation. But we shouldn’t have. We should have been there, not in Iraq, but in Israel and Lebanon and Gaza to keep the other monsters at bay.

What do you when two people start fighting? You get inbetween them and try to reason with them? Where was America to do that? We were there ten years ago, Bill Clinton stood between Yassif Arafat and Yitzchak Rabin, and they shook hands. We should have stayed there and stick our bigass nose where it didn’t belong, but where it might help.

Right now is the time to look around. Right now is the time to evaluate mistakes and promise to correct them.

We’ve been selfish. We were distracted before 9/11 and then we were selfish and paranoid afterwards. We may not have pulled the trigger in the current situatuon in Israel, but we weren’t there to stop it. Why not?

So, war.

It seems to be affecting me more than most, this "crisis," this conflict, this war. I work in a building full of Jews and it's the talk of the town - and the country, I'm assuming - but it's all talk. It's all, "What happenned..?" or "Did you hear.. ?" or "Shame about..." But for me, it feels emotional. The images on TV don't shock me as much as the fears in my head. Fear of my family in Haifa, caught in a missile attack, my young cousin who I barely know but love so so much and the thought of something happening to her makes me want to... to not think anymore.

There's a Solidarity Rally tomorrow run by my job and a temple. I suppose I'm going. I don't feel the need. I don't believe in rallys or marches, cause they don't do anything. We have this false sense of importance that anything we do can change the course of history, can alter the opinion of governments and rebels and terrorists. But, we can't. We are as helpless as the frightened civilians on both sides of the border huddling together in bunkers and waiting for peace.

I was just informed that I have to go to the Rally. The whole office is going. To show suppport. For who? I don't know. For our collective jobs, apparently. I guess some people need to DO something in the face of all this sadness. Maybe they're the smart ones.

Alaskan Memories: Journey's End

Our seventh day of vacation, fifth on the cruise, found us settled in completely to the life of the rich and unemployed. We woke up early enjoyed breakfast in the fabulous Lido restaurant which had these huge windows with beautiful views of the outside and since we weren't set to arrived at our last port of the trip, Ketchikan, till after lunch, we spent the morning relaxing on deck, walking around, playing ping-pong. The weather was changing rapidly, from the constant rain and clouds of the days before to brightness, blue skies, and - surprisingly! - warmth.

After a relaxing morning, we arrived in Ketchikan to some bad news. An excursion that I had booked back in Miami and was REALLY looking forward too, a kayaking trip, was cancelled due to bad weather, a super-blustery wind that would have had us capsized in no time, apparently. To make for it, we decided on a completely different kind of trip for the day, a rather pricey (but worth it!) floatplane ride into Misty Fjords National Monument (kind of like a National Park, but slightly different). It was a clear bright beautiful blue day, not a cloud in the sky, so the name Misty Fjords didn't seem to apply, but, whatever!

Cliff faces rose hundreds of feet into the air, dusted with snow, while thin waterfalls fell in sparkling cascades into large lakes below. Fjords are created when ancient glaciers recede completely and in their wake they leave huge mountainous chasms that are filled in with lakes, some called "hanging lakes" that are perched high up in the air. It's an incredible sight to see from a low flying plane. But the best part was actually landing inside the park, in an abandoned cove a million miles (or so it seemed) from civilization and any other people. Once landed, the captain told us to "get out!" We were a little dubious. We would be going swimming. No, we stood on the flotillas (the legs) of the plane and soaked in the peace and serenity of this quiet spot. I could have stayed there for hours. I felt more at peace, more centered, more separate from the noise of the world, than ever before. It was truly cleansing. Unfortunately, we had to leave. We clambered back onto the plane, smiling and calm, and returned to the air, where more sights awaited us.

Later, we explored Ketchikan, nick-named Alaska's First City, because it is the southernmost city in the state and often the first stop for cruise ships. It is noteworthy for its proliferation of Totem Poles and for a certain street built on stilts over a creek, called, simply, Creek Street. it was once the red-light district in Alaska's Gold Rush time, but now - Alaska's Tourist Time - it's a tourist-friendly row of shops and stores. We did our gift-shopping for friends and family here and found some really great stuff.

The next day was another day out in the open ocean, on the way to our final destination, Vancouver, Canada. Like the first day, the speed of the boat seemed to immobilize both Shawn and I and we both took some Dramamine pills to settle our heads and stomachs. It mostly worked. We started to get sad, what with the end of our wonderful trip, but we tried to make the most of our last day, spending time in the Thermal Suite, napping comfortably in our room, and enjoying our last dinner on board. the Ryndam.

We were smart, though. Instead of rushing back home to work after the end of the cruise, we rewarded our general awesomeness with two days in beautiful Vancouver. It was our first time in this city, which was so impressive and so interesting. A lot of the city's older-style architecture reminded me of the brownstones of Boston while the glass-heavy urban sections reminded me of Chicago and the hills and electrical cables lines reminded me of San Francisco and the scattering of construction sites and tall metal cranes reminded us of Miami. So, it was sort of like visiting four cities in one.

Our first day we followed all the tourist guide's suggestions and went to the Capilano Suspension Bridge. It sounds cheesy, but it was super fun. The bridge was a little frightening and definitely exciting and beyond the bridge was a small nature park, with foresty paths, all these platforms overlooking a gorgeous valley, and something called a Treetops Adventure which is a series of small suspension bridges linking big trees to each other. The only thing missing, really, were little guys in Ewok costumes and the occasional Stormtrooper running around. That evening, we again followed all the tourist guides and went to a brewpub called Yaletown Brewing Co. for some great beer and lots of food (although the portions were huge and we barely finished what we got.)

The next day was all about Stanley Park. We'd read about it, saw pictures of it, and I kinda thought it would be like Golden Gate Park in SF, but it wasn't. It was three or four times larger, with tons to see and do. We visited a wonderful Aquarium where we saw beluga whales and walked along a sea wall overlooking a beautiful bay and the city. Finally, we walked down something Lover's Lane and although it seemed to be infested with insects, it was pretty and quiet and romantic. That night, we went to another romantic dinner, a fancy place called Vij's in the West End of Vancouver. We had a craving for Indian food - the one kind of food not available on our cruise - and so we googled around and found the most famous Indian place in the city. It was great although spicy as all hell! Canadians must like their spice.

And so, on that tasty note, our trip officially ended. It was a wonderful experience, full of incredible sights, amazing adventures, beautiful scenery, extreme relaxation, and I couldn't imagine doing it with anybody else except my lovely Shawn. We had a lot of laughs, a lot of shared WOW's, and a lot of quiet time enjoying a break from reality.

Obviously, I highly recommend doing an Alaskan cruise. You won't be sorry!

Alaskan Recap (Cont'd)

On the first day of our cruise we were on the open ocean, traveling down the Alaskan coast to the Inside Passage, a series of islands, inlets, rivers, and archipelagos that would be our playing field for the next six days. Our first day involved lots of getting-to-know the boat and enjoying good food and the relaxing atmosphere of the ms Ryndam. The crew was all foreign, mostly Indonesian and Phillipino. A more charming and relaxed people I could not imagine. Everyone was smiling, everyone was pleasant. I felt completely at home within the first few hours.

The second morning sticks out in my memory for a few reasons. It was cold. Seriously cold. Cold is something foreign in Florida, it comes occasionally, more infrequently than hurricanes, cold like this was definitely something we weren't use to. We bundled up in all the layers we could find and headed out to view College Fjord, our first national park, named because all the glaciers have names of Universities, like Harvard, Yale, etc. It was dark and misty and the clouds were so low, you could smell them. It was, in retrospect, the rainiest and cloudiest morning of the trip, but beautiful and haunting and memorable. So many glaciers calve all day all week all year here that the water is covered in small icebergs. They told us to keep our eyes open for any seals or otters using the icebergs as sea buses to travel, but we didn't see any. In fact, save the whale watching later and the copious Bald Eagle sightings, our wildlife quota was very low. Which was fine, the scenery more than made up for it.

The next day, the Ryndam sailed into Glacier Bay National Park, a large inlet that was once sealed off from the rest of the Inside Passage by glaciers. When the famous George Vancouver sailed into that area two hundred years ago, where his map showed a shore, there was an opening, revealing a series of finger-shaped lakes and bays that awe to this day. At the far corner of the park is the spectacular Margerie Glacier. The Ryndam came up amazingly close to the Glacier and parked, as if it would at a port, for a full hour while 95% of the boat stood on the open decks, enjoyed the surprising sunshine, and stared at the incredible glacier.

There's a sound glaciers make. The natives call it, White Thunder. It comes from little pieces of ice falling off the glacier and hitting the water below. There's also a waterfall-ish stream coming off the glacier. But that's nothing compared to when the beast begins the process called calving. There's a grumble, almost a moan from the ice, and massive pieces of it slide off and splash gloriously in the water below. Words can't quite describe the natural majesty of it. There's something ancient and fulfilling about glaciers, like old old trees; it invokes an almost god-like awe in the presence of them, especially when they are as detailed and beautiful as Margerie.

The next day, with the rain coming down in sheets, we arrived at our first port, the town of Haines. We had nothing planned for the day (my fault) and attempted to go on a nature hike through a rainforest, but we hadn't planned well in advance and there was nothing available. We instead went on a small trip in search of bears. We didn't see any. But we did get to see a very pretty lake and a whole bunch of bald eagles. We spent the rest of the day doing some gift-shopping in the town. We got some great stuff, including little totem poles and a native knife thing-a-majig callled an Ulu that Shawn fell in love with. (Maybe she just liked saying the name.) Click here for more info and pictures on Ulu's.

After spending the day being drenched by an angry Alaskan sky, we retreated daily to something called a Thermal Suite. I highly recommend doing something similar when going on a cruise, if it is available. We paid a small flat fee for the whole week and had acess to a semi-private suite in the Spa area. In this suite, there was a Turkish bath, steam rooms, and hot stone beds. It was the perfect way to soak in some relaxation and often Shawn and I were the only ones in there, so it was like our own little corner of the big boat.

Next day: Janeau, Alaska's small capital city. This was not a day for shopping or idle sightseeing, but rather adventure! Early in the morning, we ventured out in search of excitement. We had an excursion planned for the morning, but we wanted something in the afternoon, too, and we had decided two days ago that we liked whales and wanted to see some, dammit. From the boat, a lot of people were able to see whales thanks to their binoculars, but we were cheap and didn't buy any, so we didn't get to see anything. Besides, we weren't going to be satisfied by seeing a toy tail miles away, we wanted to be so close, we could touch them! But I'll get back to that.

First up was our helicopter ride towards the Hubbard glacier. Seeing a glacier from above is an incredible sight to behold. It was like passing over a blue mountain or something that looked like Superman's Fortress of Solitude. And to actually land on it! We set down next to an alien blue lake and stepped out of the helicopter. Those first steps are cautious and unsure. It's ice, for crying out loud! What if it breaks or gives? But it's didn't. Turns out ancient ice is as hard as stone. So, passing danger, we let ourselves by awed by wonder. The rain was back in full force causing clouds of mist the size of cruise ships and we were surrounded by these black mountains sliced by waterfalls. It was like another world. We walked around like astronauts without the zero G. Way too soon, it was over, and we had to return to normal land.

Later though, we embarked on our whale watching tour with the incredible Orca Enterprises and their newest boat, the Purple Streak. There were a few whale sightings that day in other parts of the surrounding waters, but our fearless captain and excited tour guide took us to a deserted part of the inlet system where three or four straits meet and there was no other boats in sight. It was there we saw incredible things. First, a distance shadow. Then, a waterspout. Then, a tail, slowly and seductively rising and falling out of the water. It was a pod of humpback whales netting, or feeding. They parked themselves not fifteen feet away from our boat and swam and ate and almost breached a few times while we watched in awe from the top deck of the Purple Streak. Suddenly, a cry from the other side. Another group. Two groups of humpbacks surrounding us, feeding. It was almost too much. But there was enough eye-candy for everyone in the boat. We took tons of pictures and even some video of the incredible mammals. Up close, even just seeing the curves of their torsos and their tails, you are gripped by excitement. We saw so much, even the tour guide broke out a video camera and started to take footage of what we saw.

Again, too soon, we had to return, specifically because Shawn and I were late for our boat! We had been told by the sales people earlier that day that the trip would last only til 4:30, which would give us enough time to make All-Aboard at 5:30. But it was coming up on 5 and we were still on the water! Thankfully, the people at Orca Enterprises are professionals and made it their upmost priority that we would not miss our boat. They sent one of their representatives to wait at the gangway of the Ryndam and make sure it waits for us and sent an umarked private van to take Shawn and I back. There were some stressful moments there as we pondered what would happen if we were stranded in Juneau, Alaska, but I was confident we'd make it in time. As soon as returned to the boat, though, we changed and headed straight for the Thermal Suite to decompress.

Alaskan Recap (Part 1 of a few)

Is this really a state? one is likely to exclaim upon arriving at this massive mountain range that calls itself Alaska. Flying over, thirty thousand feet in the air over the Canadian Rockies, snowy mountain peaks emerge and often I saw a huge mountain and thought, Is that the highest peak in North America? Definitely not, as the next mountain was even larger and whiter and more impressive.

Landed, in an hotel shuttle from the airport, I was on-the-verge-of-awestruck. There's a certain US-born familiarity in any US city, even one called Anchorage, Alaska, that is, according to a sign, 5433 air miles from Miami, Florida (home, unfortunately). So, as we drove through "downtown" Anchorage, I saw familiar names: Hilton, Burger King, Starbucks, and felt more at ease. This was not some alien country ... or so I thought.

The air was cool, not cold - as you might imagine - just cool. Almost bright. Sunlight lasts almost twenty hours a day in the summer here in the Mid-Alaska and instead of baking the air like the hot sun does in Florida, here winds from the mountains come and sweep softly across the valley. The city of Anchorage is hilly, full mostly of shops and restaurants. We quickly dragged ourselves to a brew pub on that first night and I had my own personal first taste of Alaska: beer. A tangy, sun-colored brew that rightly deserves the name, Gold Rush, and a sweet Pale Ale that tasted like summer.

Next day we were up before 6 to catch a morning train to Seward, Alaska, and the beginning of our cruise. This turned out to be an early highlight. The Alaskan railroad is an old institution, up to the 80's, it was the only federally run railroad in the country. Finally, the US Government sold it to the state of Alaska and it retains a wonderful charm: part transportation, part sightseeing. Alaskan citizens sleep peacefully in the nearby seats while wide-eyed children like Shawn and I stare out at the windows and snap dozens and dozens of pictures of the incredible scenery rushing past. We saw wildlife, some glaciers, and lots and lots of mountains, all of which had us squirming in our seats and wanting more.

Seward, Alaska, was not impressive. The proof, as I say, is in the tourist traps. We hit the Sea Life Center because I'm a sucker for aquariums (and beer) and quickly boarded what became our home away home for seven long, full days: The MS Ryndam (that's Mother Ship - i.e. carries smaller ships).

You know those scenes from the first episodes of The Real World when the kids get to their swank new pad and they run around and scream and go, WOW. Well, it was sort of like that. Much tamer. And with better music. The boat was empty at this early hour so we had the run of it. We walked and took in the internal sights. A lot to see! Leaping dolphins at the apex of a pool flanked by hot tubs, a beautiful three-story mermaid fountain, a large theater, huge open decks, small mini-decks, walkarounds, tenders, halls with large windows, lounges with smaller windows, bars with stages, a nightclub, sports fields and courts, ping-pong tables!, boutique lounges for the richer people, the massive two-deck Rotterdam Dining Hall, the spa.

As you can tell, this was my first cruise. And I was mightily impressed. Not just with the design of everything, the luxury of it, the cleaness of it, the courteousness of the crew, but especially the food! It was lunchtime when we boarded the boat and so we walked up to the buffet restaurant, the Lido, to find it empty save a few lounging crew members. Still, the buffet was stocked. Asian food, Italian food, main entrees that looked like dinner. We started our cruise very well. Ate, drank coffee, and then sat outside on the deck for the first time. (Aside: Time is such a vaporous thing on vacation. Reality is full of "work-time", "lunch-time," "evening-time" all these labeled sections of life. On vacation, there is no labels. It was as if Time was open and we could spend hours sitting on one spot, staring at the still or dynamic scenery, just breathing it in. And we did.)

Later that night, we left port, sailed off into the evening light, too early for a sunset, but not fast enough for me, eager for what's to come.

More to follow.

First round of pictures can be found at Getting To Maybe.

Countdown

For anybody who doesn't know (i.e. who hasn't seen me in the last month and has not given me a chance to mention it randomly) Shawn and I are going to ALASKA this weekend for a seven-day cruise capped off with two days in Vancouver.

I can not wait!!

I plan to spend the next three full work days reading about Alaska, looking at pictures of the various port towns we will visit, and planning "excursions!"

Pictures and full reports to follow.

Gotta love 'em!

My people, Star Trek fans, will never give up. This article explores fan-made episodes that have sprung up since the end of Trek on television.

The truth is, these fan made projects have been around for awhile, ever since the disastorous Enterprise started airing and Trek fans realized that the people in charge of the franchise did not have the best interest of the fans in mind. It was sorta like a presidental election. The producers were going for those quirky "swing-voters" while leaving their "base" behind.

The one thing that I take issue with is the reference of modern science fiction being too "dark." I disagree. If anything, Star Trek was too "light." Battlestar Galactica is brilliant, powerful, deeply human stuff. (Just like Trek's goth sister, DS9.)

As for my own perspective of the lack of Trek on TV, it doesn't really bother me. If I had faith in Paramount to produce good Trek, I would be the first one watching it and writing about it in this here blog, but I don't. After years of sub-par episodes (first Voyager and then Enterprise), Star Trek needs a long long break. This new film that they're making (yet another prequel!) is a bad bad idea and will further alienate the true Trek fans from the owners of the franchise.

My advice to the people in charge: Let it rest. Let the fans have their fun. Please.

Radiohead!

Awesome article in NYTimes today about Radiohead's show last night at Madison Square Garden in NYC. Radiohead fans are so prevalent in culture today, there was no expository remarks like, "Radiohead, a five-member rock band from Oxford," no, instead, this article focused exclusively on new songs.

By all accounts the next Radiohead album (due sometime early 2007) will be the best thing since sliced bread (or, OK Computer). I watched a quiet, hazy, perfomance of "Appregi" on youtube and was wowed to silence. And if this article is to believed, songs like "Bangers and Mash" and "Videotape" are even better.

And I am offically high off that reference to "Nude", i.e. "Big Ideas (Don't Get Any)" one of the best best best unreleased tracks in Radiohead history means it might actually get (finally!!!) released. That's huge, yo. Huge.

I've always wanted to know where I came from..

..And, thanks to National Geographic, I can find out.

I was just browsing through NG's wonderful website and found this: The Genographic Project. You can order a kit (for the steep but worth-it price of about $100), use a "cheek scraping" thingee, and send back a DNA sample to see which ancestral group you are descended from and track where your ancestors moved during that those first migatory tens of thousands of years.

This goes way beyond family history. I know what countries my grandparents came from, but before that, my history is blank. I can't imagine what it would be like to go back to ten thousand years! As the website says, this isn't a genealogy test. It's a way of tracing back the lines of your DNA code to match up with ancient history. I am, offfically, fascinated.

Wiscon! (mostly shout-outs. cover your ears!)

Whew! What a weekend. Though I go from hating to loving conventions quicker than I can drink a cup of coffee (i.e. fast), I had a wonderful time seeing some wonderful people. Especially Chris, of course, who has been America-deficient for past two years (lucky guy). He's come back, changed, minus some pounds, plus a greater Karaoke voice, and imbued with a peace and calm I relate to Japan. And, damn, that boy can dance!

And now, shouts-outs:

Much love (and ironic curses) to my new best friends Amber van Dyk, Chance Morrison, and Lisa Deguchi for making me feel at home. You guys were my salvation and I seemed to never run out of things to say around you all. Obvious shout-outs to Kristin and Alan for your continued spirit and inspiration in all things (even writing). An honor to finally meet Mary Rickert and hear her read from her beautiful work. Karen Meisner's soft and kind self made me smile. Very glad I got to thank Christopher Rowe for Say and share innumerable drinks with the group collective of Kelly, Gavin, Gwenda, Barb, Richard, etc. I always felt enlivened and young (again) in the presence of Mehgan McCarron and Alice Kim (both of whom have great stories in the new Rabid Transit). Dave Schwartz is scary-looking without hair (sorry. truth.) As always, wonderful to see Hannah Wolf Bowen, sorry sorry sorry I didn't make it to the Mafia game. I proved my theory that Haddayr Copley-Woods is one of the most interesting and considerate and just plain friendly people in the science fiction world. Ben Rosenbaum reminds me of an Israeli artist I once knew who was sorta insane but in the best best way.

It is truly a honor to know so many talented people.

/end cheesiness.

Say it Again

Gwenda has kindly posted the offical TOC of the newest issue of Say.. which, from the looks of it, will be great. Say has always impressed me by their choice of contributors, some wonderful writers working in the underground SF world right now. And, of course, some incredible cover art. The previous issue's cover is one of my favorite magazine covers I've ever seen. I'm also particularly honored to share a TOC with Ms. Awesomeness Hannah Wolf Bowen, Mr. Important Reviewer Matthew Cheney, and Ms. Superstar Meghan McCarron.

I've Been Busy... Watching Television

That's not meant as a joke. (Although it is kinda funny.)

I have been knee-deep in some fascinating TV and movie watching. TV is centered around Six Feet Under. HBO2 is running the entire series run following the end of the series last fall. Everyweek night at 8 an episode airs and we've watched almost fifty hours already. Any episodes missed we catch through (*cough*) other means and so I've been able to watch everything in a very fast fashion.

I love doing this, "marathoning" as I call it. I did it with Stargate SG1 and other HBO classics like Oz and The Wire. When you watch episodes back to back like this, you get an almost surreal view of the show. It creeps into your thoughts and you relate to every character's ups and downs more than a traditional viewing. It feels like you're on the rollercoaster ride with them. As for Six Feet Under, it is just a brilliantly written, charming, nuiscaned, and fascinating look at modern life. Relationships, drugs, and especially death, are so vividly protrayed, it's a joy and eye-opener to watch. It's been great enterainment and, more importantly, wonderful inspiration.

And Shawn and I have joined the Netflix revolution. We love it. Love watching more than a dozen random and disparate movies in under a month, some we've been meaning to watch for years, some we never heard of until we saw it, some clearly mainstream, most, refreshingly, not. Some highlights: Everything is Illuminated based off the novel by Johnathan Safran Foer. Gorgeous, hilarious, heartbreaking film. Jarhead, Sam Mendes' war film that borrows heavily in tone and structure from Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket. And a weird, powerful and sad film called The Squid and The Whale, a extremely realistic portrayal of a family undergoing a divorce in the mid 80's and all the hardship and pain that goes with that, before divorce became as common as showering in the morning.

The New Worst Idea Ever

As gas prices topple $3 a gallon, people all over the country seem to be waking up to what has been supremely apparent to me over the last seven years: President Bush is a puppet to the oil and auto industry! Like, duh!

So the Republican congress thought they could buy off the American public like they do with their spoiled brat children and say, "Here's a hundred dollars! Go buy yourself an iPod." (Meanwhile, the only iPod you can get for less than $300 is the Shuffle. But, anyway...) Thankfully, that idiotic plan is dying and will forever be remembered as The New Worst Idea Ever (copyright pending).

What needs to happen is this: the public, the states, and the legislative branch of our great country need to take this fight to Bush. We should prosecute him for crimes against the environment. Because the actions and inactions the President perpeterated over the last seven years (by not signing Kyoto, by ignoring scientific claims, by not over-taxing Hummers) has done irreversible damage to the environment. We've passed Go. We will not collect two hundred dollars.

In the future, when everyone has to wear gas masks to run between their cars and their glass houses, you can find me easily by looking for the one with the bumper-stick-like sign on the back: "Don't Blame Me, I Voted for Kerry."

poem and pain

you know what I don’t understand?
betrayal.

how does that work?
how does love become hate?
how do things change so much
how come it hurts so much
when the one to blame is family?

Truth

From the 3/24/06 episode of Real Time With Bill Maher:

Nobody can use the phrase "our greatest problem" anymore unless you're talking about global warming. President Bush has been saying we're in a war on terror, and now I get it. He's not saying "terror," he's saying "terra" as in "terra firma," as in the Earth. George Bush is an alien sent here to destroy the Earth! I know it sounds crazy, but it made perfect sense when Tom Cruise explained it to me last week.

Now, last week on "60 Minutes," James Hansen, who is NASA's leading expert on the science of climate delivered the world's most important message. He said, "We have to, in the next ten years, begin to decrease the rate of carbon dioxide emissions and then flatten it out. If that doesn't happen in ten years, we're going to be passing certain tipping points. If the ice sheets begin to disintegrate, what can you do about it? You can't tie a rope around an ice sheet." Although I know a certain cowboy from Crawford who might think you could.

And that cowboy and his corporate goons at the White House tried to censor Mr. Hansen from delivering that message, claiming such warnings were speculative. This from the crowd that rushed into a war based on an article in the Weekly Standard. This - this from the guy who thinks Kyoto is that Japanese emperor dude his dad threw up on.

Global warming is not speculative. It threatens us enough so that it should be considered a national security issue. Failing to warn the citizens of a looming weapon of mass destruction - and that's what global warming is - in order to protect oil company profits, well, that fits, for me, the definition of treason. And codified treason.

Please, wait a second. The guy in the White House who made the edits was Phil Cooney, who had been an oil industry lobbyist before given this job as head of the White House Council on Environmental Quality. That's the office that is supposed to be watching out for us. But that's where Phil busied himself crossing stuff out in scientists' reports, because apparently in Phil's mind, he hadn't switched jobs. He was just doing his old job - oil industry lobbyist - from a different office. You know, in the "people's house."

Republicans have succeeded in making the environment about some tie-dyed dude from Seattle who lives in a solar-powered yurt and eats twigs. It's not. This issue should be driven by something conservatives are much more familiar with: utter selfishness. That's my motivation. I don't want to live my golden years having to put on a hazmat suit just to go down and get the mail. Those are my Viagra years. When I'll be thinking about having children.

But I wouldn't know what to tell a kid about our world in 20 years. "Dad, tell me about the birds and bees." "They're all gone. Now, eat your Soylent Green." We are letting dying men kill our planet for cash, and they're counting on us being too greedy or distracted, or just plain lazy, to stop them.

So, on this day, the 17th anniversary of the Exxon Valdez oil spill, let us pause to consider how close we are to making ourselves fossils from the fossil fuels we extract. In the next 20 years, almost a billion Chinese people will be trading in their bicycles for the automobile. Folks, we either get our shit together on this quickly, or we're going to have to go to Plan B: inventing a car that runs on Chinese people.

- Bill Maher