>> For what it's worth: I am officially the last blogger on Earth to start playing around with del.icio.us, but I have finally started. You can see my links at del.icio.us/logovisual; I haven't been posting everything I read, and there's some duplication, and I don't know if I'll stick with it and integrate it into this blog or if I'll just get bored of it after a while. But if you'd like to follow along at home, that's the link. And now I'm off to get dinner and (more than likely not) catch a glimpse of the parade.

>> As of today, October 23rd, I've been keeping this blog for five years. Holy shit, five years. Five years of my life have gone by. It doesn't seem like much when measured against what's (hopefully) in front of me, but obviously, since I'm still a young guy, those five years are, in retrospect, the most important of my life. So any occasion that forces me to look back on them is going to mess with my head a little bit.

Obviously I haven't been as committed to this blog as I have been in the past. Hell, if you look at the archives from this time last year, I was posting compulsively, and writing quite a bit each time. A lot of that comes down to my indignation over the state of affairs leading into that year's election. All I can say about that now, of course, is "I told you so," since that fuckwad in charge is now racking up a nationwide approval rating in the high 30s. If you voted for him, I don't know what to tell you, other than that I hope you invested heavily in lubricant before you went down to the polling booth, because we're just going to keep getting assfucked by this guy until he's finally spent in 2008.

But all the political bullshit was and is a diversion. When I started writing this blog, it was about me. Indeed, it was called "Not Enough Of Me," as I suffered under the hilarious delusion that exhaustive examination of my life's every intimate detail was an enterprise that Needed Doing, for my sake and for the world's. Were we ever so young? I do bemoan the loss of the intimacy, and the love of writing, that that approach fostered, but at this point in my life I find it very hard to reconnect to that zeal. That said, I do think that I owe my audience, and myself, a fairly comprehensive statement of where I am personally at this moment in time.

I'm 23 years old. I'm still living with my friend and roommate, Ashley, in an apartment in the Greenpoint neighborhood of Brooklyn. The apartment is small -- especially my bedroom, which holds only my queen-sized mattress (there's no bedframe at the moment, as I've been too lazy and/or otherwise occupied to get the lumber to build one), two small chests of drawers, and a small desk attached to the wall, where I keep my recently-purchased iMac G5. I love this computer, but to be perfectly honest, I think the setup of my bedroom is part of what's been keeping me from blogging -- my wall-hung desk is just not ideal for spending long periods of time furiously typing, as it's not one thousand percent stable. I am writing this entry there, though, so perhaps that'll help me break through that psychological barrier. Despite its small size, the apartment is comfortable and affordable, and the neighborhood is a vast improvement over our previous digs in Clinton Hill, where the apartment was a gigantic loft but the rent was too high and the surrounding blocks entirely too seedy. It's taking some mental readjustment to get used to life in such a different environment, but I think it's working out.

I'm still working at DC Comics, and I'm still enjoying it. I make enough money to get by comfortably, and I even sock a tiny bit away (a recent inheritance helped that considerably, though). Other people my age are probably making more money, but they're also probably either working unsustainably hard or doing something completely soul-destroying and personally unfulfilling. My prospects in terms of job-development also seem to be looking up, although I obviously don't want to get into specifics here -- in general, I don't like talking about work in this space, so this is likely all you're going to get for some time. While of course after a few months that "every day is amazing" feeling has worn off -- it is, after all, a job -- I still can't think of any place in the world I'd rather be working, and I consider myself phenomenally lucky to have been allowed the opportunity.

I don't listen to as much music as I used to, though with the release of a fresh crop of fall CDs my attention has been drawn back to my previously-fallow iTunes library (Best purchase of the last few weeks: Depeche Mode's excellent Playing The Angel). I have, of course, been reading a lot of comic books, but not nearly enough plain-old text books -- a chunk of the summer was devoted to Don Quixote but since then, very little has made it off of my bookshelf, with the exception of some research material for a writing project that I hope to undertake some time in the distant future. Writing, of course, has been a topic of some anxiety, as I have done very little of it since graduating from college eighteen months ago (now that's a statement that fucks my head right up). November is National Novel Writing Month, and while I don't plan to do anything anywhere near that ambitious, I'm currently thinking of using it as an impetus to try one specific thing. You may not hear anything else about this ever again, though (for a variety of reasons), so don't hold your breath. Some of the time that I should have spent spending reading, writing, or listening to music has been spent at the gym -- while I've been less disciplined about it than I'd ideally like to be, I have definitely fought myself into better physical condition than I've ever been in before (which isn't saying much). I've re-upped to have more personal training sessions, which will push me in ways that I wouldn't normally push myself, and I've finally gotten to a point where I can flex my arm and something will happen underneath the skin that wouldn't make a six-year-old laugh. So that's definitely something.

As for my personal life... well. Some readers may think that they've been missing out on all of the juicy details as a result of my starting a friends-only LiveJournal several months ago, but on the whole they'd be sadly mistaken, as I've neglected that outlet just as profoundly as I have this one (They got a few snippets and crumbs, but nothing as sweeping as, say, this entry). The bottom line is that I'm still single (my relationship with Josh ended in early May of this year), and I don't like it. I've dated since the breakup (and done some other things, too) but I really, really enjoyed being in a stable, long-term relationship, and I truly think that Josh and I were, personality-wise, the kind of match that does not come along often, in spite of any of the problems that we admittedly did have. So it's taken some time to start healing over that wound, though I do think it is progressing. We've met since then, though we haven't talked about the relationship on those occasions. It probably wouldn't do any good to do so, however, so maybe we never will (If you're reading now, Josh, which is quite likely, then I'm sorry if statements like this make you uncomfortable). It's probably best to just let these feelings lie undisturbed for a good long time, and look forward to someday building the kind of friendship that will cover them over. It'll be a long-term process that likely won't be pleasant most of the time, but it's necessary.

I'm starting to get to a place where I really wouldn't mind having somebody new in my life, but again, that should probably happen slowly, and the likelihood of my finding somebody who I can feel comparably about is not very good in the near term. I'm very picky about the kind of guy that I can feel a real, beyond-the-physical attraction to, and even if I were to find such a guy, God only knows if the feeling would be reciprocated -- I think I'm a pretty decent catch in a lot of ways, but I'm sure there are a lot of things about me that would turn a lot of guys off, ranging from flippant shit like my extreme geekiness to more intense issues like the fairly vicious standards that I place on myself and on those close to me.

Where do I see myself in another five years? Well, ideally, I'll be partnered up -- I'm not somebody who wants to spend his entire twenties in pursuit of some false ideal of "living it up." I would like to cultivate a slightly less staid approach to life in general (in other words, I'd like to get over the idea that beer tastes like piss and be able to enjoy a night out on the town), but my fundamental desire for stability is not going to change anytime soon. It'd be nice if I was still working at DC; while there is some confusion about what I think myself capable of on an artistic/intellectual front, I am absolutely positive that comic books are the field in which I want to spend my life; after all, what the fuck else am I qualified for? I'll probably still be in New York five years from now as well, though lurking in the back of my mind is the idea that someday I'll return to Florida to raise a family (That is, of course, if Florida ever rescinds its despicable laws against gay adoption). That could happen anywhere, and I'm not inflexibly committed to the idea of returning there, but I do know that I loved my childhood in Florida and would love to give my children a similar environment. The crucial question is, of course, will I still be blogging in five years? To which I can only say: I really don't know. I've begun to treat my blog as something other than the traditional narrative that it used to be; it's become more of a collection of brain-elements, organized in a way that perhaps makes sense only to its architect. OK, that sounds pretentious, but you get the idea: links as bookmarks, photographs as memory-markers, text posts as momentary outlets of emotional or intellectual release. This isn't a diary anymore, it's something else entirely, and maybe in five years we'll all be using the web this way (if all the Web 2.0 hot air is on to something, which it probably is). So in five years, maybe my attention will have drifted from "blogging" as such and will have moved more towards cataloguing, which was always a passion of mine to begin with (Indeed, I spent about half an hour today trying to get an HTML export of my iTunes library just right). Who knows? The bottom line is, I don't plan to give up this blog any time in the immediate future. Though it's often a hassle and bit of a weight on my conscience, it's also been the vessel for so many amazing transformations in my life that while it's possible to imagine a life without it in the future, it's no longer possible to imagine what my life would have been like if I'd never started it. Again, that sounds pretentious. But.

I sincerely thank you for reading my site, whatever your reasons. It's nice to know that there's a small tribe of people out there with whom I have something in common, even if it's just a proclivity for wasting time browsing the internet when we could be reading a book, running laps, or having a picnic. I'd like to do a lot more of all of those things in the future, too, but I'll have to be sure to make time to write it all up for you folks afterwards. Thanks again, and God (or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, whatever floats your boat) bless.

>> I was planning to write a long, candid, "director's cut" (i.e. unsuitable for U2log.com) review of the two U2 shows I went to last week, but my drive to do so has significantly ebbed since then, dying a death of a thousand cuts -- every time I had a moment in which I could conceivably have written a post, there was some dumb reason not to. Oh well. Suffice it to say that I enjoyed the concerts quite a bit, but I definitely feel that this tour isn't on the same level as Elevation was, and that can't help but be disappointing, since you always want your favorite band to improve, not decelerate. Oh well again. If you're geniuinely curious about my specific, song-by-song reaction, let me know and I'll try to put it all together at some point... right now, Mario Kart beckons (it probably didn't help my long-term concentration that someone from my circle of friends was hanging out at our apartment for four of the last five nights)...

>> I have spent a sickening amount of money on concert tickets in the last 24 hours, but the upshot is that I'm seeing U2 tonight (from the schmancy close-up seats, though off to the side) and tomorrow (from the GA pit), and Depeche Mode in December (from the nosebleeds). My accountant will never forgive me, but I myself am pretty Zen about it. Of course, this does put a severe crimp in my plan to go to the record store and gorge on the eighteen bazillion albums I haven't picked up over the last few months (I've barely been listening to music at all lately, and I'm thinking it's time for a library-refresh), but all in due time.

Now I'm giving U2 two chances to hit me off with "Discotheque"... don't let me down, boys! (I'll take "Zoo Station" if you're really hard-up, but I'd prefer the former.)

>> It took me less than five minutes to check fifteen blogs this morning, because nobody had updated. I tried to get all indignant about that, but I'm just as guilty as everyone else.

I must confess: I've honestly got no desire to write right now. It's not like there's nothing going on, but I'm not feeling the need to tell stories about what's happening. I don't know why that is. Not feeling that need does make me feel like something fundamental is missing from my life, but I haven't been getting anywhere in my (admittedly half-hearted) attempts to get it back. It's not a fun state to be in, when you're someone who used to base a significant portion of their identity on the belief that they could someday be a creative professional. Now I'm not sure what to think about myself.

Bah. Maudlin bullshit. Feel free to disregard, I'm just clearing my head.

>> I went and did a crazy thing today: I saw three movies in a row. Preliminary report: A History Of Violence = good; Corpse Bride = boring; Serenity = very, very good. I shall go into more detail about what I thought of each movie in the morning (or more precisely, since it'll be Sunday, in the afternoon, once I've shaken my lazy ass awake); but for now, it's time to curl up in bed with a glass of water and Sgt. Rock Archives Volume 3.

(Can you tell how badly I need a boyfriend?)

UPDATED: OK, let's do this thing:

• A History Of Violence -- I probably wouldn't even be writing about it if I hadn't enjoyed it, since the graphic novel on which it's based is published by my employers and it really wouldn't do to have me slagging off our product in public. But I really did enjoy it. It's not without faults -- Cronenberg doesn't seem overly concerned with what kind of performance his actors turn in, so it's a good thing he cast the movie with people who, 95% of the time, will completely carry anything you can throw at them. Unfortunately, there are a couple of wooden moments / scenes that completely clunk and throw things off, but on the whole they're outweighed by fucking stunning work, especially from Viggo Mortensen and Maria Bello. The script is often the source of those wooden moments, but on the whole it's a very good adaptation of the original graphic novel (which is a very satisfying thriller-style read, but not really an unmissable classic), at least in tone and most of the major story beats. The ending (and as a result, to some degree the whole setup) has been rewritten, and to be honest I think it lost some of the punch that the ending of the GN had, though the closing scene of the film is vastly preferable to the note the original ends on. I'll go ahead and say it's an A- that would've been a rock-solid A if I hadn't been so rankled by the random "off" bits.
  
  
• Corpse Bride -- If you've seen the previews, you've seen the movie. I'm sad to say it, but there's just really not much else to love about this movie beyond the setup -- it feels very anemic, there's no real cleverness or wit on display once you get past the visual design. Indeed, I was actively bored and frequently checking my watch through the first two-thirds of the movie -- and it's less than ninety minutes long! The final act picks up a little bit, once the dead characters are finally allowed to be creepy as opposed to clever-cutesy, but overall it pales deeply in comparison to The Nightmare Before Christmas. C+, sadly; I guess Charlie & The Chocolate Factory was more of a solid double than the start of a Tim Burton home-run return.
  
  
• Serenity -- I really didn't go into this movie with many expectations of its quality, since I never watched the Firefly series and, to be honest, the rabid praise that Whedon fans had been showering on it had me a bit apprehensive. Being a comics geek, I know full well how easily fandom's praise for something that they perceive as having "crossover potential" can very rapidly become overblown and out of all proportion to the reality of the thing they're promoting. But as an only casual Whedon fan (i.e. I've liked what I've seen of Buffy, which is maybe a total of two and a half seasons, and I enjoy his X-Men book), let me say directly to you, the also-uninitiated, that this movie is pretty damn great. It ain't an art film -- it's an action-adventure, with all the genre trappings that implies -- but it's a damn good action-adventure. Most crucially, it's been thought through: The plot makes sense, the characters make sense, the universe (or 'verse, ha ha) makes sense. Whedon is enough of a craftsman to know just when to layer on the traditional rousing action devices and just when to subvert and undermine them; you'll often be surprised by what happens, and you'll always be satisfied, never feeling like you've been cheated or talked down to. Firefly is going straight onto my Netflix queue after this, and I sincerely hope the film does well -- hell, if any of you out there who haven't seen it yet want to, drop me a line and I'll go see it again. It's everything the Star Wars movies ought to have been -- dangerous, funny, sexy, inventive, and exciting, and it's a solid A. (Perhaps giving the just-barely-removed-from-best-possible rating to an action movie is overdoing it, but hell, I enjoyed myself a lot, and to be perfectly honest that doesn't happen too often at the movies these days. So.)

Speaking of Netflix, by the way, I've finally joined. So far it's the bee's knees. I've only watched a couple of movies, but I'm hoping to steadily increase my rate of consumption until I only have to peep out an embarassed "No" to the immortal "Have you seen _________?" question around 50% of the time, as opposed to my current batting average of 75-80%. I'm-a gittin' cultured!