the seattle library

... is, by far, the coolest public building that I've been in. Follow this link for some amazing pictures.

It's shaped like a random mesh of glass cage from the outside, which is almost expected of these "modern", big-profile buildings. What is surprising is that the inside is every bit as quirky. The bookshelves are slightly scattered across the floor, and some are transparent. The floor tiles *do not* match, and seem randomly placed. And everywhere, the sunlight shines through the glass cage, creating dancing shadows across the floor.

The conference floor is the creepiest. It is completely red -- even the ceilings and the floors -- and dimly lit. Traversing through its hallways is walking down the memory lane of your mother's womb.

Then there's the computers floor, which is completely silver -- even the floor tiles are metalic. Perfect for mass electrocution.

Above that lie about 5 stories of what's called The Spiral, where all the books are. The floors are linked together like a parking structure -- you can actually get from the lowest to the highest floor without touching stairs or the elevator. This means that the floors are tilted. Completely bizarre.

The Reading Room is at the top level, where the beautiful sun casts playful shadows everywhere. It's really gorgeous.

Too bad the parking situation is ridiculous. We paid $5 parking fees for being in the library for an hour. But still. It's hard to find a more charming building of such large scale.

Fahrenheit 9/11

Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 was, in fact, the number one movie in America this weekend with a $21.9 million pull (his previous film, Bowling for Columbine, took nine months to rake in $21.5 million!). It's extremely, extremely heartening to see that it actually outperformed White Chicks. Could it be that this country really is more interested in politics than black guys dressed up as blond girls?

The film itself is wonderful, every bit as biting, insightful and biased as you would expect a Michael Moore film to be. And, more than that -- and the reason why people love Moore documentaries -- it's also very entertaining. It's more focused than the sprawling Bowling for Columbine, though not as constantly intriguing and thought-provoking. He took a few shots too cheap at Bush, and sometimes overstated the obvious. And I agree with the critical consensus that there's not that much previously-unknown information. Nevertheless, the art of filmmaking is in the presentation, and Moore has put together a tasty treat.

Did it deserve its Palm D'Or? Eh, probably not. Though very well-made, it's not exactly a shining example of filmmaking. Fahrenheit 9/11 definitely benefitted from its political message there.

Is it better than Bowling for Columbine? Eh, probably not. Though it is more subtle, more restrained, and more mature, it's not as immediately brilliant nor as wildly creative.

Is it going to sway the election? Eh, probably not. The film may be a little too radical to do that. While there are things here that would definitely convert some votes, it's padded with polarizing viewpoints (the film, for example, still dwells on Bush stealing 2004's election. Moore really needs to move on from that point). However, I must commend Moore for daring to make a film filled with his opinion, rather than a two-hour long attack ad.

Nonetheless, it's one of the best films of the year so far, and will be a big presence at this year's Oscars. And, it did blow everyone's expectations and beat White Chicks and Dodgeball at the box office -- while being shown on only one third as many movie screens! Who knows, as Michael Moore constantly surprises us, perhaps the American people will surprise him too.

even with context...

Me: What's in that Amazon box?
Him: Oh, condoms.
Me: Really. I didn't realize Amazon sells condoms.
Him: Yeah; you have to look under the Used section.

long live Lewis Black

Lewis Black is hilarious. Some tibits I just saw:

"MTV is to music as KFC is to chicken"

While watching last year's Superbowl halftime, "So there were N'Sync, Aerosmith and Britney Spears, all on the screen at once. Fortunately, I had a spoon in my hand, and I shoved it up my ass. Why, you might ask. To distract me from the pain. If I'm going to hurt that much, I'm going to do it to myself. Oprah calls that empowerment."

Awesome :-)

The Terminal

I went into this movie expecting the most saccharine and sappy of Spielberg films. The Terminal looks, in tone and feel, similar to Catch Me If You Can, the previous Spielberg outing that I didn't particularly enjoy.

The problem is a simple one. Spielberg, while extremely talented, is one of the most sentimental directors working in Hollywood. This is evident in even his greatest works, E.T., Saving Private Ryan, and Schindler's List, where he cannot resist tugging (or, more often, jerking) at our heartstrings. Lately, though, he's been trying to prove that he's grown up and can deal with darker, more cynical issues. Thus his recent films, AI and Minority Report, are far from the innocent sci-fi world of E.T.

Annoyingly, though, his sentimental side still intrudes all the time, especially at the end. AI, for example, was a masterpiece of set design, special effects, beautiful direction and foreboding darkness. Until, that is, the horribly contrived and sugary ending. Minority Report, too, was brilliant; the showdown with Leo Crow proves Spielberg to be unparalleled when he's not distracted by his sentimental tendencies. Yet the ending takes an odd, obligatory and unnecessary turn toward the optimistic, and he again ruined an otherwise wonderful movie.

Catch Me If You Can was an interesting case, a mix of darkness and innocence, and marks the first time (in recent years) Spielberg is trying directly to make a comedy. Unfortunately, he's not very good at it; I didn't find a single funny moment in the film (though there were various witty ones). And I was strongly repelled by the "poignant" scenes (like when his father asks him in a bar, in reference to an earlier scene, "Where are you going today? Somewhere fancy?"). All in all, it was not a very tasty brew.

Which brings us back to The Terminal, another "light-hearted comedy". And, much to my surprise, it worked. The dialogue is still (as it often is in Spielberg films) stilted and forced, full of purpose and clamoring to make a point. But the comedy this time worked. This is probably more due to Tom Hanks than Spielberg's direction; Hanks turns in a performance so sympathetic, lovable and subtle that it's hard not to be constantly impressed. His comic timing is dead-on, and his physical slapstick performance is perfect as well.

The film is, appropriately, not as pretty to look at as his previous films, though it's still gorgeous. Spielberg's favorite cinematographer, Janusz Kaminski, who also worked on AI, Minority Report, Saving Private Ryan, Schindler's List, etc., brings his usual palette of shining metallic surfaces and overpowering lights to the picture. Whereas they were distracting in Catch Me If You Can (made that movie seem bigger and less intimate that it should be), here it works to make the airport at once alien and beautiful to behold. Though his fondness for strong backlighting is starting to annoy me, there is one scene during a proposal that is so visually stunning that I let out a cry of joy (to the dismay of everyone else).

So there, I liked it. It has its flaws (especially the dialogue), but I give Spielberg another passing grade. And I can't wait when he finally, really grows up.

I need fried rice

Many of you know of my unhealty addiction to TC Garden's BBQ pork fried rice. That's the problem with Redmond -- none such exists.

It's weird. I've been to a Thai Ginger and a Golden Chopsticks. Both are restaurants you immediately recognize as not Thai nor Chinese. They both have very hip decorations, with cool stylish lights and tables. The walls are dotted with some highly fetishized, highly stylized Asian -- or, more exactly, "oriental" -- items like a big golden Chinese character, fans, a dragon, etc. This is not Thai or Chinese -- this is what Americans perceive as Thai or Chinese. And it's disgusting.

As is the food. My $8 fried rice that I ordered from both places are twice as expensive and half as good as that from TC Garden. The Thai place is better, but who the hell puts broccoli in fried rice? The chinese place was just abysmal with dry pork and too much salt. Bleh.

I need a good, cheap, authentic chinese restaurant. For those of you not in the know, here's how you can tell:

Americanized Chinese Restaurant	Authentic Chinese Restaurant
has cool stylish lights hanging from the ceiling	has flickering fluorescent lights about to fall off the ceiling
has stylish furniture that you can buy from IKEA	has broken tables that dance to your eating rhythm
clean, pleasant tabletops	why do you think they give you napkins?
has orange chicken as top menu item	laughs at you when you order orange chicken
white waitress	what waitress?
expensive as hell	slightly cheaper than hell
tastes like wood	tastes like properly spiced wood

God how I long for a real chinese restaurant! I miss California.

harry potter & co

The new Harry Potter movie, Prisoner of Azkaban, I should note, is the best so far. Yes, it fulfills the promise of being darker and more menacing. But even more, the director this time around, Alfonso Cuaron (of "Y Tu Mama Tambien" and "A Little Princess" fame) is just that much more skilled and subtle than the sledgehammer that is the helmer of the previous outings -- Chris Columbus (of "Home Alone" and, dear God, "Bicentennial Man" and "Stepmom" fame -- though, to be fair, he also made the great Mrs. Doubtfire).

Having created the lovely "A Little Princess" -- one of the best movies of its kind -- Cuaron obviously knows how to work with kids. And the poignant "Y Tu Mama Tambien" proves that he can capture the sensitivities of teenagers. Thus, the characters do more now than just spewing off exposition; they stare into space, look off to the side, turn their backs and go into subtle, quiet rage. It's a much more interesting performance from everyone.

The movie is such a gigantic production that it's hard to credit the incredibly beautiful set designs and perfect special effects to Cuaron. However, he is certainly responsible for the nimble camera work, constantly in motion without being schizophrenic. He also knows exactly when to pull the camera afar to show the characters in their lonely isolation. Many times, I felt a sudden and strong emotional connection completely due to a camera angle change.

And ah, there it is. Emotional connection. This is something that the first two movies lacked, where I never ceased being amazed by the story and the sets but couldn't feel anything beyond the perfunctory plot devices. Here, it works; even the sugary scenes, damn it!

It's not perfect, of course. It still feels too much like a book, and scenes still only extend far enough to expose plot points (rather than letting moods and emotions set in). I would love to see a three-hour version of the film, where Cuaron can work under less damning time constraints. Regardless, this is a wonder of a movie, and one that might make my year-end list.

By the way, my year-end list for 2004 so far:

1. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
2. Dogville
3. Kill Bill, Vol. 2
4. Harry Potter 3
5. Shrek 2

Not a very good list yet, though more are coming...

more recycled song goodness

You know you want another crappy song.

the kindly forgotten

did you come to save me
from my stubborn reflection
drowning in math and apple pies
gasping for carbon dioxide
or will you just pass me by?

will you take me away
to a place I don't exist
chained to the swimming pool fences
freed from my self-defenses
or will you just pass me by?

but my head is buried in the snow-white sand
and I can't stand up
but my mind is locked up in the moral bank
and I can't wake up

could you hear me whispering
from the pedestal I built
reaching for the lies in your face
wishing for one last embrace
or will you just pass me by?

but my head is buried in the snow-white sand
and I can't stand up
but my mind is locked up in the moral bank
and I can't wake up

I thought you were different
but now I'm not so sure
I thought you were different
but you're just like everyone else
you can barely save yourself

and so you pass me by
and so you pass me by

still my head is buried in the snow-white sand
and I can't stand up
and my mind is locked up in the moral bank
so I can't wake up
I can't wake up

another recycled song

More cheese, please.

blue skies

why are you still here
whispering into my ears
why do you still bring back
colors of skies into my bed

I used to know what to say
though never knew what to do
but I can't wise up
so I can't keep up

you fly past the wind
but the sky is too blue
it blocks my view
of you

I can't see you anymore
through the midnight window
running down the street
in the then-come soft rain

so I slowly put my dreams
in a crumbled paper bag
and quickly flush it down
the ever-forgiving drains

as you fly past the wind
still the sky is too blue
it blocks my view
of you

I don't feel you anymore
just a shadow in my bathroom
brushing your long hair
washing your sad face
drying your dried tears
singing your soft song
that I can't remember anymore
I can't remember anymore

and things get fuzzy

It seems inevitable. While this summer is not nearly as bad as last, when I lived by myself alone while interning for IBM, it seems that whenever I venture far from the people I know, my thoughts turn toward the abstract. It's not like I prefer it; I'd rather think of concrete things like ice cream or girls or girls in ice cream.

How about this, then: a girl is stuck under a mountain of strawberry ice cream after a most unfortunate avalanche. She must eat her way out before she freezes to death in the sea of deliciousness. In the process, she realizes that she's lived her life wrong -- an underachievement of happiness, overabundance of work, under-consideration of love, over-emphasis on ice cream. In the process, she also realizes that it's not ice cream, but worms, and that she's been eating her way out of a mountain of worms. But before she is able to spit out a mouthful of worm parts, she freezes to death. The angels come from the skies and cry for her, erecting a statue in her image. Then I come into the picture, and start humping the statue.

I'm frankly waiting for the next Great American novel to flow through me any day now.

recycled song

As you know, I doodle and write on my notepad (during lectures) a lot. Most of them are nonsensical, but some are phrases I liked. I found that I could just collect them and arrange them into bad songs. For example, here's one:

stuck

you stop at the fading corner
I can see it in your eyes
you're not coming back
buried head and broken fingers
blood-soaked chicken noodle soup
you're not coming back

but you were never back

you swim around the ocean edge
and look for signs of despair
but it's not there
so you pedal harder toward infinity
in search of blue-dyed eyes
but I'm not there

cos I was never there

so we step into the astral car
locked and weighed to the ocean floor
but we're still lost
and we walk along the purple pavement
screaming for a purple dream
but we're still lost

cos we were never here
we were never here

Useless song-writing for dummies.

my A-

Well then, it finally happened. I got my first A-. In my great Bergman class too, no less. I've always thought I'd feel relieved when I finally shed myself the burden of carrying my GPA around. But really, just blind panic. Relief will probably set in after my midlife crisis. What a bummer.

Naturally I sent in a grading complaint immediately, not exactly begging for reconsideration, but requesting for explanation. I got this email in response:

Dear Chung,

It was a good thing you inquired, because I did make a small clerical error in the calculation of your grade, and when I corrected it, you were brought up to an A. I will have to file a grade change form, which I will pursue today. I apologize for the error. One thing I should mention; though you had perfect attendance, you didn't have an A for attendance and participation, because you elected not to participate for the most part. I calculate that grade on the basis of both attendance and participation in discussion. But you achieved something on the final that only one other person did -- you got 100%! So you certainly earned your A in the course.

To quote someone, "silly humanities classes!"