often I will wake up and the memory of a dream will begin to fade, but then something I see in my morning routine brings it all back. Some nights I sleep for so long and I have so many dreams, that after waking up, just about everything I see reminds me of another one of them. It seems I've dreamed about everything there was to dream about, every idea that was in my mind was explored. These nights are fun.

* * *

I've decided to get back into listening to music, as opposed to listening to the same album or two for months on end, then giving up and listening to conservative radio because it's on the same station as Coast to Coast and I can't be arsed to ever change it. I've noticed the conservative talk radio guys, or at least the one that's usually on when I'm going to bed, have a funny habit in which they repeatedly say the names of their liberal targets very emphatically to express their disdain. They also make very generous use of the dramatic pause. Sometimes these two techniques spiral out of control together to the point where the guy seems to be simply saying the person's name again and again, with ridiculous emphasis.

Recently the guy was talking about David Brock, who just started this site to monitor factual errors in conservative media. "David BROCK... .... has started this site. DAVID BROCK. is going to monitor this 'conservative media'... DAVID ... BROCK ... Oh no! We're shaking in our boots, DAAAVID BURRRROKKK!!!" Or something like that.

David Brock and David Brooks should really get together and fight to the death.

Oh right, I was talking about listening to music. I finally decided to give Soulseek a try. It has one key feature that Kazaa lacks, in that it actually works. I never could understand the enormous difficulty of going from finding out that someone out there had a file, to obtaining it from them, rather than it sitting on "Remotely Queued" for a goddamn month. For a while I attributed it to everyone else being an asshole and clamping down on their uploads, and this is always plausible, but now I'm leaning toward massive flaws in the Kazaa system as the culprit. Either way, I'm happy with Soulseek.

Before Kill Bill Vol. 2, the trailer was shown for the new remake of the original "Zatoichi: The Blind Swordsman" movie. I've been gradually collecting all 13 of the original movies that are available on DVD, out of a total of 25 or so. These are really cool, and supposedly one of Tarantino's inspirations. Oddly, I'm pretty sure this remake is already available on DVD as well. Even more oddly, the Netflix info screen for the Zatoichi DVD series says "Shintaro Katsu only made one film in his life...but what a film it is!" It would be a challenge for this to be more wrong.

Vol. 2 was largely fulfilling, but there were one or two spots where I couldn't help but take issue with a lack of realism. Obviously realism is not the point of the movie, but when a storyteller sets up a situation in which the viewer asks, "how can this possibly be resolved?", and then the question is basically answered, "it just is, despite the laws of physics, which also necessitate a B-movie-esque depiction of it that is entirely unconvincing," that is frustrating.

Speaking of the New York Times, or not, I found ironic the recent article that appeared lamenting the death of suspense in entertainment thanks to the inevitable internet leaks of plot twists ahead of time. I can't remember when it started, if recently, but for years now I've avoided reading the Times review of any plot-driven movie I know I'm going to see, because they always reveal so much of the plot. I'm sure they have a policy about it, and the policy is wrong! They don't go so far as to reveal a surprise ending, but sometimes merely saying that there is a surprise ending is enough. In other cases, they simply reveal more of the plot than I want to know, pretty much everything except the ending, sometimes going on for paragraphs that say nothing at all about the quality of the movie. With Kill Bill Vol. 2 (which I read after seeing it), Elvis Mitchell outdid himself.

[I'm going to do some spoiling of my own here, so consider that your warning, although since the movie is weeks old I feel pretty safe. And if you're in some other country that hasn't gotten it yet, do you really count?]

So Elvis revealed not only that the Bride's real name is revealed in the movie, but what exactly it is, and how it was significant in relation to other scenes! Now, sure it doesn't matter whether the name is one name or another, but does spelling it out really belong in a review? In this particular piece it seemed like all the plot details and such were just needed to fill out the extra-long review. But not having enough things to say about a movie like this is hardly justifiable.

To come full circle, my only other complaint about the movie is one that I've had about some others, like the Matrix. A lot of the martial arts action is actually incredibly slow. It's always throw a punch, it's blocked, other person throws a punch, parried, and so on. Pretending fighting is that neat and tidy is one thing, and necessary, but slowing it down is just ridiculous. I once watched a video of two Jeet Kune Do [Bruce Lee's streetfighting martial art] experts sparring, and they moved so fast it was literally a blur of arms. Of course Uma's no expert, but with all the training these actors are supposed to go through, and doing so many takes ... and so on.

After a rather large lapse in current entries, I thought I would put a slight spin on the catching-up process by going in reverse, starting with yesterday and ending with obtaining my (then) new apartment.

So yesterday I saw "The Twilight Samurai," a movie that as of this writing has 24 out of 24 positive reviews on Rotten Tomatoes. I think it's close to being Kill Bill's diametric opposite in tone and depiction of the lifestyle. It made me want to be a samurai in probably much healthier ways than KB. The protagonist is a low-ranking samurai (it turns out there is such a thing, they are not all maverick maniacs), modest only until he is forced not to be, and very slow to draw a sword. There is great attention paid to the customs and rituals of clan life. The authenticity I found very rewarding.

It's interesting, one would think that movies like KB and lesser ones in the same vein would exceed those like "Twilight Samurai" in their combat scenes at least, because they are essentially throwing all their resources at that. And yet, the combat in "Twilight" was so cool and authentic and satisfying. The movements and techniques made perfect sense. The fighters actually tire. As I imagine it is in reality, it's not easy at all to tell when a hit has been made, until the blood starts flowing.

I know that style and homage was supposedly the point of Kill Bill, and that I really shouldn't compare it to this, but such comparison brought up many interesting questions. Is it better for a samurai to have no feeling about murder, or even to enjoy it as The Bride admits under duress, or should one be reluctant to do so? The latter certainly sounds more honorable, but even the protagonist of "Twilight" says his demeanor is not suited for his lifestyle. Should one always be modest and hide one's talents, so as not to give away the game? The two films might agree on an affirmative answer there. I'm keen to apply that lesson to my own life, because I think I've become far too eager to announce my own knowledge and accomplishments even when they are not truly anything great at all.

On a final note, the film itself is more modest about its nature than one might think. The original Japanese title translates to "Twilight Seibei," that being the main character's name. The "Samurai" was put in for America, probably by someone more concerned with business than art.

Along with laundromats, our neighborhood is completely overrun with barber shops and beauty parlors. When there are only two on a side of a block it starts to look like a market niche waiting to be exploited. Maybe one of these places could balance things about a bit and trade places with one of the five Washington Mutual banks on each block of the upper west side so I could get some money out of an ATM without traveling half the length of Manhattan.

This is all a preface to the irrationally stressful process of getting a haircut. This was the first one for me in at least a year. The multitude of choices seemed a bit intimidating, but it also meant that should I be dissatisfied, I wouldn't run out of more places to try for a long, long time. Eventually I settled on a nearby place that advertised its "Hairmatic $10.00 Designer Cut System." The idea of a system seemed to reduce the chance of some extreme result. Then again, it's also totally ridiculous.

I've written before about having trouble communicating with haircutters, as nominal as my requests tend to be, but it's quite another matter when they speak no english whatsoever. An english-speaking guy at the counter took care of the initial consultations, and was slightly incredulous that I didn't want to give it "any style at all"? After that I was mostly on my own.

So apparently to this haircutter, the word "trim" meant to cut as little as physically possible. After no more than a few minutes, she was brushing off my neck and I sensed it was time to speak up if I didn't want this to be a complete waste of money. "Uh, could you cut a little more?" She called over the interpreter. "Un poco mas?" I tried to say "Si," but "Oui" came out instead. After this process repeated two or three times I was feeling a bit like Oliver Twist, and I think she started to complain to the adjacent employee. I figured it was good enough.

Since third grade I've avoided any formal learning of Spanish, because it's so ubiquitous here that it just doesn't seem exotic or interesting. I've also never particularly liked the sound of it. But living and working in an area where it may as well be the official language, I'm starting to think it would be nice to be a bit more confident with it. I always found it odd when, at several points in my youth, those around me suddenly found it immensely entertaining to curse at each other in Spanish. I guess cursing itself can become so humdrum that a new way to do it is always exciting.