My Travels - Italia Part 2 of 4 (Firenze e Pisa, 2006)

The Duomo

Firenze
I've succumbed to exacting revenge on the Roman Empire by defacing the renaissance of its glory, via... well...the Rennaissance (I mean, the works of art). In it's birthplace, Florence.

Santa Maria Novella greeted me off the train station; Draped in accent light, the 13th-century church might have looked intimidating, but it stood tired and defeated; I never looked back.

Lacking a Metro, I fought claustrophobic panic thru narrow streets of the historic center, past the shops of the Strozzi, down to Piazza Della Signoria, past Palazzo Vecchio and it's David replica, into the celebrated Uffizi Gallery.

At the Uffizi Gallery, Palazzo Vecchio in the background

But seeing how bad the artists were (sure, they can paint faces, trees, animals...but they have laughable command of depth perception and other perpectives), I held back my destructive tendency; left the works alone as lasting sources of ridicule.

But not so with Da Vinci: witness his Annunciation, its consideration for three spatial coordinates, sense of depth, parallel lines...and the forgivable Birth of Venus by Botticelli. Aaaaaah! They're behind glass partitions with motion sensors and hidden deterrents I didn't want to discover!

Deflated after this new setback, I chanced upon this impressive photo op in the distance---the Duomo in restoration... ...looking like the Death Star from one of the more recent epics of empire-building, re-inspiring my quest to colonize (I cried after Star Wars. Because the Empire lost).

To the Accademia then, newly-enthused, armed with my sculpture-shoving technique, and waiving my previously-arranged reservation (else risk no entry or lose momentum waiting in line). I rushed to topple Michelangelo's David....nothing. I was under-powered; I was weak. Or perhaps shocked and awed by its marbled presence, all 17 feet of him, towering in graceful defiance, weakening my knees, stealing my will.

I woke up cold and wet, below the Ponte Vecchio, glad I was disposed into the Arno, not the Med.Dejected, I welcomed a side trip. As it was that my raiding party is half women, it was natural to go high-end shopping 'round Via Strozzi. Outlets teem past Florence's city limits: Burberry, Ferragamo and Gucci in Leccio; a big Prada "warehouse" in M0ntivarchi, et al.

Driving proved easy; the Autostrada may cost a Euro every half-hour, but speed limits are second only to the Autobahn, so I stepped on it.

Armed with a speed buggy, I diverted to Pisa not two hours to the left coast...

Pisa
My car proved useful for parking rather than ramming, conveniently just within site of the tour de grace:

The Dvomo and Tower of Pisa

Dumb architect! I'll save him the perpetual dishonor by obliging gravity. Just one good heave to the right, I thought But for reasons unexplained, sightseers opposed me in cheerful resistance...

...eh????

I stole across the piazza, focused my energy on the Baptistry before anyone noticed, and tilted it into eternity:

Ask me if anyone noticed. Really. Ask me.

One last design for reprisal: Feet flat, facing the Duomo wall, tinkling merrily...but in futility: the Tuscan rain has come early.

My Travels - Italia Part 3 of 4 (Venezia, 2006)

Venice has long welcomed refugees of Europe, slavers of the Barbary Coast, pirates of the Med, princes of Arabia, traders of Hindoostan, Viziers of Istanbul, merchant marines of Southeast Asia, a wandering pillager like me.

She is no colony for plunder. She is haven to be called home. She is a realm to be guarded. With her charms ignited, I became her defender.

Now, she is sinking and ravaged by outsiders: I proposed to avert disaster:

Block the Causeway to the mainland! But they all come hard and fast. Trains, buses, cars, yachts, ferries, dinghys, speeders, tugs, outriggers, tankers, vaporetti, traghetti, line cruisers, gondolas!

On my arrival, it was even by foot, during the Venice Marathon.

Perhaps the gondola rides will terrify them like they did me of EU$120 for a half-hour jaunt, while bargaining was totally acceptable. Perhaps a segment of the world's population might be put off by anti-war sentiments embodied in this Pieta, front-center at the Ferrovia (train station): I went further devising my own schemes: The mainstays of Piazza San Marco may become a pigeon air force. You see, birdfeed's been injected with birth control to obviously control their masses. Add a hardening catalyst and you get painful projectiles raining down from a bomber squadron!But I fear such inorganized ensigns are too fragile for combat.

I sought vampires of old Venice but like the living, they've fled the floods of the sinking city, reducing residents down to about 60,000, settling in cities like New Orleans (I sympathize with citizens of that beautiful city, but I can't say the same for the bloodsuckers, thinking they've escaped drowning under Venetian floods while sleeping away the fatal sun, only to seal their fate in Katrina's fury).

Still in the midst of my scheming---reflecting on a night's discovery that women are supposed to get blank dinner menus (read: no price), while men get the full brunt---then came the clatter of disciplined steps up the wooden approach to my upper room. One set of feet, just another guest. Four sets, it is time to leave!

Pursuing an Empire long gone, my takeover plans apparently laid bare, the reigning authority has come for me. Perhaps just enough time for one final bid---to the commercial and financial center - Milan!

My Travels - Italia Part 4 of 4 (Milano, 2006)

The 8:57 to Milan is my time machine on fast-forward, leaving behind my scuffle with ancient Rome, thrusting me into a final match with modern Italy.

Central Station greets me in Art Noveaux, but its the absent pursuers that fascinate me. They can't be too far and I have little time.

Outside is the subway, but the city beckons exploration above ground.

Leonardo's The Last Supper is a three-month wait at the Santa Maria delle Grazie. I wasn't gonna get caught in line, so I kept walking.

What a treat, I thought: a real castle, the Sforza, waiting for an onslaught. But I found it absurd. What is a moat without water? What is a stronghold without a drawbridge?













What is a castle without a hoard?

I crossed into Via Montenapoleon, center of world fashion, avenues lined with windows into moda Italia.

Dolce & Gabbana on every block... Past the functional La Scala Opera House... Thru the spacious Galleria, probably the oldest shopping mall in the world, but looking nothing like yore...


Out into the piazza...

...THUNDERSTRUCK into the shadow of the gothic Duomo!

I have found the canvas that will bear my wrath!

They have posted armed security by the entrances! They know their nemesis has been doubling as a tourist.

It would be midnight when I slip past. Armed and rancorous, I worked in haste, knowing the walls are closing in, my time shortening. I'm more than halfway through before I was chased away by the watchmen.

Daybreak and I went back, hoping to bask in my triumph, only to find my work already under wraps!

Today, they'll tell you the Duomo is under renovation, perhaps until early next year. But they know I defaced the facade! They know I've struck at the heart!

It would have looked like this:
They know infuriatingly well: I came, I saw, I conquered!

P.S. The only travel books that matter belong to Rick Steves. He's like the reconnaisance scout we never had, or the one that ever came back.

Black Eyed Peas - South San Francisco

A health-focused company turning Thirty.
A sunny Bay Area afternoon party.
Unannounced! Just hints enough to tease,
Unexpected! The Black Eyed Peas!

click to enlarge

Safe for Travel

Here's a shoe company looking to up sales: "Security Friendly"

Thankful for new security measures at the airport over the resulting lighter carry-on payload, I wasn't expecting more bargains, but found to my delight a much faster boarding process with less junk to packup in and around the cabin. Much faster disembarkment, too.

Moreover, your touchdowns are cheered by near-empty overhead bins as they rattle carelessly free of luggage.

You'd think UPS, FedEx and the USPS would open up kiosks at the airport to handle your liquid-based purchases and other no-no's.

Pity the travelers who don't read books 'cause that's about the only items allowed in the cabin from airport terminal shops. Oh wait, there are magazines with pictures.

Funny the first few days when all potentially dangerous liquids were being thrown in one big receptacle where mixing them up would ignite the very threat being avoided.

Long-lasting lipsticks sales are on the rise.

Spouses and girlfriends would love a ban on cell phones, now that all your football, baseball and basketball games are just a phone key away from robbing them of attention after they've read thru their People and US magazines.

Ban not the iPod, for it is holy.

Laptops are OK to carry-on, but Quantas and Korean Air, for a short time, asked that Dell laptop owners can't bring their exploding Sony batteries on board.

Jimmy Kimmel complained about the Baddies as to why they had to use liquid threats that ended up with the liquid and gel ban. Imagine instead, men from all over: If they used bras as weapons and then bras get banned!

The Jetta Report

A series of Volkswagen crashes on commercial air time has managed to unnerve the TV-watching population of America: Jetta driving through a suburb lane, passengers talking nonsense, then suddenly, unexpectedly crashes with another automobile.

Powerful images, but spooky.

On a brighter note, there are the Jetta driver stereotyping commercials: A dad suggests a Jetta driver take a hike on a beautiful day, and Mr. Jetta driver loses it because "not all Jetta drivers love to hike." Tee-hee.

And here's the more interesting part: Volkswagen is conducting a continuing social survey on-line, pitting Jetta drivers against all others. Interesting experiment. Sounds scientific enough.

Take a look at that Jetta Report here and compare yourself.

Perhaps maybe, it can overshadow the Jetta driver stereotype suggested starting about two years ago by Volkswagen commercials themselves: Remember, two guys in a Jetta blasting "Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto..." Two guys in a Jetta moving residences.

Two guys driving a Jetta this. Two guys driving a Jetta that. Always two guys.

Not that there's anything wrong with it.

Snakes on a Plane

Samuel L. Jackson will call you.
Samuel L. Jackson will warn you.
Samuel L. Jackson will use whatever he can to make you watch Snakes on a Plane.

Well...more accurately, you can ask Sammy to call your friends and tell them to go watch those mf snakes on the mf plane!

Do it now, here.

Before it's all over.

A Michael Mann Production

I count four starring roles in Miami Vice (2006). In order of appearance: Farell, Foxx, Miami and Michael Mann, who stayed expertly behind the lens. Just as there were four in Collateral (2004): Cruise, Foxx, Los Angeles. and Mann. As it was in Heat (1995): Pacino, DeNiro, Los Angeles and Mann. Far from coincidental.

More importantly, amid the lowly reviews and confused movie-going audience, I found a certain, pleasing familiarity to again sit to Michael Mann. Same one I find re-running Heat or episodes of Miami Vice or Crime Story.

The sweeping views of the blue ocean from high and wide glass windows. The blue light draping the characters. In general, the over-all use of colors to convey the atmosphere.

The soundtrack that shape the scenes, excusing actors from doing what they're paid to do and simply look ahead to the yet-unseen waypoint, or look helplessly downward, while letting the music define the mood.
- Best exemplified by Phil Collins and "In The Air Tonight" as Tubb's girlfriend struggles mootly from a booby-trapped car that she eventually triggers to a sickening explosion, while arch-enemy Calderone slips away (again).

The best-of-the-best of the good cops, the protagonists, the cast, and even the subcontractors who command the top of most everything they do. Consider a quote from the CEO of Adam Aircraft:
- "The Adam Aircraft A500 is the ideal airplane for 'Miami Vice." The A500 signature twinboom profile reaches the level of high style and high performance necessary to meet the standards of a Michael Mann production..."

The loud guns. (Hey, they're supposed to sound that way)

The seemingly climactic set-ups detached from the end of the film (replaced instead by the obligatory resolution thru an un-impressive shoot-out). Cases in point:
- Heat: Shoot-out in rush-hour L.A., tucked right in the middle of the storyline.
- Collateral: Club confrontation, to Paul Oakenford' "Ready, Steady, Go", again far from the ending.
- Miami Vice '06: I vote for the trailer park hostage rescue, where emotions were at its peak (on and off the screen), yet removed from the loud shoot-out ending.

Though admittedly, the movie seemed like a TV episode, as in, made-for-TV, rather than summer blockbuster... and while, perhaps, quite a lot of people we're looking for "Bad Boys 3" (and strangely enough, I enjoyed reading the critics' reviews and the blogosphere's takes as to what to make of it) , I was very happy with this...........
a Michael Mann production.

See also Manhunter, Thief, The Last of the Mohicans, Ali, The Insider, L.A. Takedown.

Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang (2005)

Robert Downey, Jr.
Val Kilmer
Michelle Monaghan
Shane Black
Fun movie.



Memorable Dialog:
Harry: Don't worry, I saw Lord of the Rings. I'm not going to end this 17 times.

Perry: Look up "idiot" in the dictionary. You know what you'll find?
Harry: A picture of me?
Perry: No! The definition of idiot. Which you...are!

Perry: Did your dad love you?
Harry: Only when I dressed up like a beer bottle, how about you?
Perry: Well, he used to beat me in morse code, so it's possible, but he never said the words.

Harry: I swear to God, it's like somebody took America by the East Coast, and shook it, and all the normal girls managed to hang on.

Your Own South Park Character

Me.

If you can't beat them, join them.
Make your own South Park character here.

Your Own iPod Billboard

Make your own iPod billboard, here.

Radiohead - Berkeley Greek Theater

Once, my dear cousin drove eight hours to see them in Boston; proudly proclaimed how awesome a show they put on.
Once, they played the Shoreline on my birthday, the first I saw them live.
Once, New Order was my favorite band...
"Green plastic watering cans"


Radiohead, Berkeley Greek Theater, June 24, 2006.

Hard to describe Radiohead live. Add the Greek Theater as the sixth man, and I'm doubly at loss of words. I just remember tonight a welling-up smile that never left. Thru anthem, guitars, piano and two encores. Then after, tongue-tied.

Set list:
Airbag
2+2=5
Where I End And You Begin
15 Step
Kid A
Dollars And Cents
Down Is The New Up
Nude (Thom stops mid-song, re-starts "let's take it from the top.")
Paranoid Android (Possibly the best crowd energizer.)
No Surprises (My highlight)
The Gloaming
All I Need
Climbing Up The Walls
Go Slowly (Thom: "Some of our new songs are sketchy, Very sketchy.")
Myxomatosis
Bangers 'N Mash
How To Disappear Completely

Encore
Fake Plastic Trees (Another highlight)
Arpeggi
Black Star (Surprisingly beautiful live!)
True Love Waits
Everything In Its Right Place

Encore 2
Bodysnatchers
(Thom: "The fog's come in. Its time to go home. If you invite us into your apartments, we can keep this going.")
The Tourist

Thanks to green plastic radiohead.

Missing: Lift, My Iron Lung, Creep

The Futurist - James P. Othmer (2006)

A book (of fiction) about a futurist that's very much about today, honestly critical of the blind optimists, embarassingly familiar to the materialists, and self-validating for the realists. A swipe on American arrogance. A satire of cool.


A book (of facts) about very familiar instances, about the history of our extravagant selves, lately.

J.P. Yates, sage, authority on trends, peddler of cool.

...his real talent was holding on to...information until the time was right, knowing the exact moment at which to drop it into the flabby lap of a mass-market, mall-addicted America that wanted to be a fraction of an inch above average...when it was the absolute best to deem that-which-had-long-been-cool-to-cool-people cool for the rest of us.

J.P. Yates, master of ceremonies, master of bull.

...not necessarily true, but [that's] what they wanted to hear.

J.P. Yates, our vigilant inner voice that reminds us to think for ourselves. Reminds us that the guy with a stock proposition that can't miss is a futurist. The all-promises political candidate is a futurist. The time we lay our discretionary income down for Black Jack, we're futurists.

So, whenever we play the role of early-adopters, are we being duped by futurists within Apple or Sony or Microsoft's marketing machine? Are we always foolishly in line for Version-Dot-Next?

Ponder the questions. Enjoy the book.

Business Week's '06 Industrial Design Excellence Awards

Now, back to the future.... link here