Tapensen! (H1N1)

Coachella Art

Epic Roadtrip!

As a person who values science and it's explanatory mechanisms, I have alway rejected superstition as a way to understand the events of my life. Instead of relying on the concept of luck, I choose to blame all of my daily ocurrences on the laws of probability. However, a series of very fortunate events this past week have forced me to accept that I am, indeed, a very lucky guy. 

A friend of mine asked me a favor. He wanted me to fly to San Diego and drive his new SUV back to Vancouver, all expenses paid. Given that the Pacific Coast Highway has always been in the top tier of my "List of things to do before I die", I instantly said YES.. A day later, I realized that Coachella would be happening on the same weekend that I would have to fly to San Diego! 

To make this story short, I'm blogging from a bus that will take me from Vancouver to Seattle. I will then board a plane that will take me to California, to meet all of my good friends. I'll be rocking in the Palm Desert for three days, listening to some of my favorite bands. Then, I'll start an epic road trip by myself from San Diego to Vancouver, with stops in L.A., Santa Barbara, Santa Cruz, Frisco, Napa, Portland, and Seattle. 

The itinerary is obviously very flexible... so please, dear readers, send me some suggestions! 

p.s. hooray for buses with Wi-Fi. And yes, I do intend to visit Malibu, in honor of the Dude.

Film day: Pasqualino Settebellezze

Sundays in Vancouver fall under two opposite categories: phenomenal and depressing. Obviously, the weather is the factor that determines which category applies. Today is one of the depressing ones, with deep grey skies and non-stop rain. The bike will have to stay inside; the frisbee locked in a closet. 

However, these grey Sundays also provide an ideal opportunity to unleash my movie buff persona. Therefore, I hereby establish Sundays as the official film recommendation day in this blog. 

Today's film is Lina Wertmuller's Pasqualino Settebellezze (or Seven Beauties): 

And if you feel like leaving your house this evening, Pacific Cinematheque is celebrating the 50th anniversary of Fellini's La Dolce Vita. Don't miss this great opportunity to see a 35mm copy of the film projected in a movie theatre! Details here. Also, Wong Kar-Wai's Ashes of Time Redux is playing at 5pm at Pacific Cinematheque).

Ting Tings vs. Los Campesinos

What to do, what to do?? Both bands are playing tonight in Vancouver and I'm torn... I have them both in my iPod, they're both playing at Coachella, they're both B+ bands in my book, and they will both attract similar scenester crowds. 

Given that I have no preference for either show, I suppose I'll have to resort to the good ol' principles of rational choice theory and go to whichever show is a little cheaper. My Econ profs would be proud. 

What would Lennon do?

Bombs to minerals

I'm lying on my couch reading Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five and I just came to that wonderful, famous, passage where Billy watches a war movie backwards and the bomber planes fix the world instead of destroying it. I was reading a news dispatch by Juan Goytisolo on Sarajevo earlier today, which makes me particularly sensitive to Vonnegut's words.... so I'll just post them here and hope that they enlighten someone's day:

"He came slightly unstuck in time, saw the late movie backwards, then forwards again. It was a movie about American bombers in the Second World War and the gallant men who flew them. Seen backwards by Billy, the story went like this:

American planes, full of holes and wounded men and corpses took off backwards from an airfield in England. Over France, a few German fighter planes flew at them backwards, sucked bullets and shell fragments from some of the planes and crewmen. They did the same for wrecked American bombers on the ground, and those planes flew up backwards to join the formation.

The formation flew backwards over a German city that was in flames. The bombers opened their bomb bay doors, exerted a miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers, and lifted the containers into the bellies of the planes. The containers were stored neatly in racks. The Germans below had miraculous devices of their own, which were long steel tubes. They used them to suck more fragments from the crewmen and planes. But there were still a few wounded Americans, though, and some of the bombers were in bad repair. Over France, though, German fighters came up again, made everything and everybody as good as new.

When the bombers got back to their base, the steel cylinders were taken from the racks and shipped back to the United States of America, where factories were operating night and day, dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous contents into minerals. Touchingly, it was mainly women who did this work. The minerals were then shipped to specialists in remote areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide them cleverly, so they would never hurt anybody ever again.

The American fliers turned in their uniforms, became high school kids. And Hitler turned into a baby, Billy Pilgrim supposed. That wasn't in the movie. Billy was extrapolating. Everybody turned into a baby, and all humanity, without exception, conspired biologically to produce two perfect people named Adam and Eve, he supposed."

Birds!

p.s. I need a tripod.

Fujimori

The road to justice is long and complicated. Today, after a 15 month trial, Alberto Fujimori was found guilty of torture, kidnapping, and enforced disappearings. This trial may set a precedent for accusing and convicting former heads of state that led oppressive regimes or allowed (or even ordered) war crimes. 

The weather (or e-Small talk)

For centuries, the weather has been the primary subject of banal conversation between individuals that meet on the street and have no desire to share any deep or personal thoughts. More recently, with the dawn of the taxi, the weather has become the theme of choice for passengers that want to avoid the awkward silence that occurs when riding alone in the back seat of someone else's car.

Today, as the internet becomes the medium of choice for communication within the human species, it is only normal to expect that the weather will soon take over as the main source of inspiration for armies of bloggers trying desperately to publish their voice to an anonymous crowd of readers. So today, dear blogfans, I feel it is my duty to engage in some small talk and tell you about the weather:

OMG this weather is crazy. I can't believe it was snowing on April 1st and yesterday it was 15 degrees (Celsius)! Just last week, I was walking around with a winter coat and a scarf and today I'm considering wearing flip flops and a t-shirt. Jeeez! Gotta love Vancouver.

(Yes, unfortunately, it is rather difficult to talk about the weather using formal language, for fear of sounding like a television weather man. i.e. "a low pressure system entering the province from the north will disperse the cold air and bring springlike temperatures and clear skies on Sunday.")

Radiohead full concert (o una probadita)

Animated me

Reenacting one of my childhood nightmares.

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Loftcube

"Imagine a place where your neighbors fly, and windows are 360º wide. A place where you can work, relax...and share life with your friends. Imagine the possibilities...of living on a rooftop. Welcome to the Loftcube! A living unit for passionate individuals. See you on the rooftop."

Jajaja. Creo que para la Condesa la campaña sería, "Imagina cambiar tus tinacos por... LOFTS, goooeeeiii"

In Vancouver, of course, this would contravene a number of bylaws protecting the flight paths of endangered winged species.

Omegle

My friend Chris shared this link today and I think he doesn't know the potentially devastating effect it can have on me. I love talking to people, especially to random strangers! Yes, I'm one of those people that turns around and talks to you in the bus, or tells you what cereal he likes at the supermarket. So Chris, thank you... this will officially be the end of my leisure time.

OMEGLE