Notes From the Small Room

Quarks and Atoms

2009-01-23T06:00:00.000-08:00

Good morning. It is six a.m. I am awake and beardless. Both unrelated and unfortunate. How so, you may ask? Well, bear witness to the monstrosity below.

See the half-smile, so wracked with exhaustion and sleep-deprivation that it took all my energy. Absolutely all of it. Witness the rings under my eyes. And finally marvel at the amazing double chin, a feat accomplished via the careful application of high-calorie, low-protein snacks into my food hole.

So, why did I shave off the beard? The chin chia-pet? The face fungus? The skin....uh...cover upper? I don't really know. I was heading out to coffee with my friend Lexi and knew that I should look somewhat presentable and less, y'know, Charlie-Manson-esque. Thus the trimming began. And then it looked respectable. But then I just kind of thought "Fuck it." Buzz buzz buzz, shave shave shave. Here I am. Good to see you again, chin(s).

Clearly, I have made a huge mistake.

Anyway, my days of making mistakes are over. Once the beard grows back I pledge to keep it trim and shapely, sexy-like. At least until I decide to not do that anymore. Then the usual unkempt extravaganza of non-shaving resumes. And I will rejoice.

But enough about me, let's move on to better subjects. Such as myself. And we will do it in the form of a Q and A.

Q: What you been up to, Rory?

A: Well, Rory, that's a great question.

Q: Thanks, man.

A: No problem, dude. To answer your question: I'm exhausted.

Q: I kind of figured that. Since you've been rambling relatively incoherently for this entire post. And you decided to post a picture of your unwashed self. Which is weird and very vain of you. I also kind of figured it since, y'know, I am you and stuff.

A: How very existential.

Q: I don't think it is existential at all actually. I think you are just using that word because you think it makes you sound smart.

A: That's true. How did you know that.

Q: Well, again...

A: Right, right, you are me. Forgot. Maybe we should get back to the questions.

Q: Fair enough, Rory. So, Rory, what have you been up to?

A: Well, Rory, I have been up to loads and loads of things. Really, far too much to list on this blog. The people won't be interested in hearing an answer to that.

Q: "The people"? Well, aren't we being confident? Don't like, 4, people read this thing?

A: More like three, you douche.

Q: Dude, you just called yourself a douche.

A: Well, to be fair...

Q: Right, I was being a douche. Or rather...

A: I was being a douche.

Q: Right...

A: So... this is an awkward moment.

Q: How about I ask you another question: How goes the job search?

A: That's kind of a sore subject.

Q: You know, you'd think I'd know that.

A: Yeah you'd think I would. You would. Whatever. How the hell does Charlie Kaufman do this meta bullshit?

Q: Trick photography.

A: Nice reference.

Q: I try. Way to congratulate yourself, by the way.

A: I try. I'm boosting our self-confidence.

Q: Okay, but to be fair, it is not really "our" self confidence. It is "my."

A: Oh right, because only one person, right right right.

Q: Yeah. So really could ditch this whole conceit.

A: But I've wasted so much time with it already. To ditch it would be like ditching my arm or something.

Q: That's weird. So weird in fact because clearly it would be nothing at all like losing an arm. Losing an arm would hurt like a bitch. Ditching the Q and A format would literally just mean you stop writing in the Q and A format.

A: You mean, "I stop writing."

Q: I mean, "I mean, 'I stop writing.'" By the way, can it be pointed out that I am not sticking to the proper Q and A format at all, since Q hasn't asked a question for a while and A hasn't really given an answer.

A: I know. That's so weird.

Q: I think I will find that there is very little about this post that isn't weird.

A: Maybe I should post another picture of myself.

Q: Maybe.

A: Okay.

Q: What the fuck is that?

A: That's the picture of the book I'm reading.

Q: It's all reversed.

A: Uh... its supposed to be like that? Its... y'know... arty. Symbolic of... the reversal of ourselves and how we only see... what... we want to... see?

Q: I didn't realize how Photo Booth works, did I?

A: No, no, I didn't.

Q: Well done.

A: Thank you.

Q: So, this whole thing is a big waste of everyones time.

A: Yes.

Q: I just like playing with Photo Booth, don't I?

A: Maybe. Can I post another picture?

Q: Yes. But make sure I strike a really embarrassing pose.

A: Can do!

I'm going to go now. Sorry for wasting your time.

The Women of 1998

2008-12-15T07:52:00.000-08:00

Morning all,

Let's see... well, I suppose I could write about my life, which, oddly enough, has been kind of fascinating and awesome as of late. I'm just back from my Rory Reconnects With Cousins He Hasn't Seen For 15 Years Tour and I met a whole bunch of fascinating people, saw cool places, and had an amazing time. And I write this so I can...well, gloat, really. This the gloating part of the update. I gloat because I can. And you should all be wildly jealous and seethe with contempt and harbor a grudge against me. Go ahead, I'll wait. Just let me know when you're done so I can tell you another fascinating anecdote after which your response will be to grit your teeth and say "Wow, that's... cool... yeah!" all while imagining my fat, bloated corpse hanging from a ceiling fan, which, really, is a dumb fantasy since a ceiling fan could clearly not support my weight.

So I could do all that... but I won't. Mainly because I like the friends I have and I will gladly talk you ear off if you ask about it but until then I'll just stick to what I do best: obscure movie references.

But I did feel a surprising and somewhat disconcerting need to update the ol' blog this morning. And I actually woke up early, with energy, full of vim and vigor and ready for whatever the world may throw at me. And then I decided to squander all that energy by writing about nothing of actual importance. Because what else is the internet for other than wasting time? I think Wikipedia's entire business strategy is based around that very idea. The board meetings at Wikiheadquarters must go, "Guys, I wrote another 3000 word article on the social importance of symbolism amongst transgender Sesame Street slash-fic characters and their parallels to 'Anna Karenina'!" And then the CEO adjust his monocle, lights another first pressing of Beatles' "White Album" on fire, ignites his Cuban Cigar with it and proclaims, with disturbing accuracy, "Money in the bank!"

All right on to the point: the point of this incredible time-wasting update can be blamed entirely on Mick LaSalle. Who is Mick LaSalle, you ask, while sitting in your underwear and eating a bag of Cheetos... or while you're at work or whatever. Mick is a man... a man with a destiny. A destiny that will one day include a time machine, a transmatter ray and the slaying of a dragon. He will then go on Larry King and announce that he's running for president. He will win. And then, eight years later, he will retire from politics and take a job as head of the Doritoes Corporation where he will invent a new flavor that combines the salty goodness of chips, the sweetness of chocolate, the irresistible allure of hummus and the intoxicating smell of Pine-Fresh Lysol. This flavor will only be known as "The LaSalle" and will be instrumental in the year 3087, when 15-year-old Jeremy Fishbell figures out how to use The LaSalle to defeat the terrifying zombie dinosaurs. But for now, Mick LaSalle is the film critic for the "San Francisco Chronicle."

Over on Mr. LaSalle's blog, he posted that he stumbled across an article he wrote way back in 1998 about actresses to watch in the new century. Ten years later, some of his predictions proved scary-accurate and others not so much. So, as the democratically elected internet representative of my house, I feel necessary to weigh in on Mr. LaSalle's 1998 predictions. Below I've listed the names and my responses to them. They are in the same order as Mr. LaSalle mentions them in his article. Here goes:

Hope Davis: Yeah, she's still solid. I really dug her in "Mumford" and "Hearts in Atlantis."

Anne Heche: LaSalle wrote, "Last year people questioned whether Heche's lesbianism sexual orientation would prevent her from becoming a bankable romantic lead. Today, that question is answered with. In "Six Days, Seven Nights'' and "Return to Paradise.'' Heche established herself as a fact." Except for the fact that "Six Days, Seven Nights" sucked out loud and I don't even know what "Return to Paradise" is. I can only assume that Heche is in paradise then realizes that she's gay so she leaves but then oh wait she wasn't gay at all and that basically all amounted to a big, crazy publicity stunt and then she returned to paradise, straight as an arrow, although a batshit loon who writes books about alien abductions (seriously). One to watch? Yeah, sure, if only for tabloid fodder.

Jennifer Lopez: This is one of the good ones. She was definitely one to watch back in 1998 although I would seriously argue that she made her best film IN 1998 ("Out of Sight") and, like Ms. Heche, became a walking parody of herself, complete with high-profile relationships that effectively drove Ben Affleck insane and made me realize that one revealing green dress at the Academy Awards does not a career make. What was the last movie she made? That one with her husband right? See, I care so little about her that I'm not even willing to click the IMBD tab to get the name of the movie. I'm just gonna assume its called "Remember Jennifer Lopez's Ass? Here It Is In Hot Pants: The Motion Picture."

Embeth Davidtz: According to LaSalle, this woman was one to watch in the new century because of her turn in "Fallen." Nothing against her or "Fallen" (I really dig that flick but then I'd probably dig anything that had John Goodman and James Gandolfini in it) but I could not remember her face until I IMDB'd it. Now I know who she is: she's the nice teacher from "Matilda," which was made in 1996. In the 21st century she hasn't done much. Oh well. By the way, does anyone else realize that "Matlida" is basically a nice version of "Carrie"? That just dawned on me. This means that I am officially throwing my support behind that Never-Gonna-Happen crossover. "Matilda vs. Carrie: Blood on the Track." I'd see it twice.

Catherine McCormack: Yeah, I don't know who this is. Apparently she was in "Spy Game" and "28 Weeks Later." Those are both good flicks, right? So, y'know, congrats to her.

Sophie Marceau: Uh... she was a Bond girl in 1999. That's a feat. And then... well, yeah, this was one of LaSalle's misfires.

Kate Beckinsale: Ah, see, I told you LaSalle had some scary-accurate ones. So, back in '98 Beckinsale made my favorite flick of hers ("Shooting Fish" because I love me some British con artists). And then she was in "Pearl Harbor" and headed up the latex-n-leather fetish-fest known as "Underworld." And she was in that flick with Adam Sandler that I didn't see. Go her. Good for you, insanely hot British girl. It couldn't have been easy growing up insanely hot and British. I'm sure all sorts of doors were closed to you since nobody wants to spend more than 5 minutes in a room with an insanely hot British girl. Way to persevere.

Cate Blanchett: Yeah, this chick went nowhere. I mean who is she? LaSalle really dropped the ball on this one. As far as I know she made some flicks that made no money and I think she lives somewhere in London, raising her kids. She really could have benefitted from playing a prominent role in a popular, billion-dollar-grossing fantasy series; a few Academy Award nominations and one win; a high-profile marriage to an Academy Award-winning director; and the type of respect from audiences that is usually reserved for Judi Dench and Helen Mirren. Oh, what could have been...

Gretchen Mol: This is the chick from "Rounders" which is one of the greatest movies of all time, hands down. I'm not even going to look her up on IMDB because this is the chick from "Rounders" which is, hands down, one of the greatest movies of all time and there was no way she could have made a better movie than this movie which was called "Rounders" and is, hands down, one of the greatest movies of all time. In fact, I think its best if I just say that, hands down, "Rounders is one of the greatest movies of all time.

Catherine Zeta-Jones: Yeah, she was one to watch and sort of lived up to the promise. In '99 she was in "Entrapment" which is a movie I remember only for her tight pants. She kicked off the 21st century with "High Fidelity," which, like "Rounders," is, hands down, one of the greatest movies of all time, so that's cool. I dunno, what else to say? I dug "Traffic." I didn't see "Chicago." So, y'know, she's cool? Right? She married Michael Douglas didn't she? So... yeah, awesome. Good call, LaSalle.

Natasha McElhone: Apparently this lady is Irish. Good for her. Yep... other than that, I have nothing to say.

N'Bushe Wright: LaSalle wrote: "N'Bushe Wright was more than just the girlfriend in 'Blade.'" Awesome, except totally false. She wasn't the girlfriend at all in "Blade" as she never even held hands with Wesley Snipes. She made some serum or something. So she wasn't the girlfriend in that flick but I haven't seen her in anything else and if I did I would probably say, "Hey! That's whatsherface, the girlfriend from 'Blade'!"

Liza Weil: She went on to do "Gilmore Girls" which was a show I liked because I want to able to talk as fast as they do. Plus, it made a few Monty Python references. Solid.

Chad Morgan: Who? Is this even a woman? Should I look up her up on IMDB? The answers are: Chad Morgan, Probably, and No.

Katie Holmes: Oh, man, every list has to have a tragedy and this is it. Seriously, how did the sweetheart from "Dawson's Creek" go from the cute girl-next-door to that lady down the street whose house you skip on Halloween? I never really liked her but I had to admit she had an appeal but she squandered it all, to the point that when Maggie Gyllenhaal went all kablooey in "The Dark Knight" I was happy because it meant that, in a way, Katie Holmes had also died.

Alicia Witt: I can't remember much she was in. I know she boned Chris on an episode of "The Sopranos." Cool? Yes, but one of LaSalle's miscalculations.

Natasha Gregson Wagner: Oh, Natasha. You have my heart. Even though you tried to steal John Cuasack away from whatsherface at the end of "High Fidelity" I forgive you. And even though you haven't done anything at all since you were in "High Fidelity" I forgive you. Why? Because you were in "High Fidelity." Go you. I will buy you coffee.

Christina Ricci: Oh, Christina, forget what I just said about Natasha. YOU have my heart. She means nothing to me, really. You are the one. I've been crushing on you hardcore since I first saw you in "The Addams Family." And then you were in "Sleepy Hollow" which might have been the first film to usher me into puberty. Even though you, for some reason, became waifishly thin I will always remember you as the sultry-but-doe-eyed, curvaceous dream-girl. In the 21st century, you had your share of misfires but hey, remember when you were in "Sleepy Hollow"? That was pretty awesome.

And finally, we have Mick LaSalle's last word:

"In the meantime, from the standpoint of late 1998, the actress who looks most poised to make a big noise in the next century is Claire Forlani, who starred opposite Brad Pitt in ``Meet Joe Black.'' The Italian-British actress is beautiful in an accessible way. She has warmth, . she can act and, perhaps most important, there's something just a bit odd about her features and mannerisms that makes her different enough to get under a viewer's skin."

Claire Forlani: ...wait really? The chick from "Mallrats"? She was who you picked? What? Oh...kay. Well... um... let's just hope that your list of actresses to watch from 2008-2018 doesn't top off with, like, Emmanuelle Chriqui or something.

And that's it, folks. If you made it all the way to the end, then kudos to you. I'm off to look for a job.

Much love to all and to all a good night... I mean, morning. Whatever.

-Rory.

A More Pure Love I Never Saw. (Or: The Girl Who Sat Across From Me On the MUNI That One Time Was Really Dumb.)

2008-01-24T22:37:00.000-08:00

I was on the MUNI, coming back from lunch with a friend and these two high school girls got on. Correction: they were not high school girls, my memory just informed me. They were in 8th grade. Their conversation, which I unabashedly listened in upon went something like this.

Oh wait. Before I begin I should say that I didn't learn their names. In there stead I will use the names Sherry and Carrie. The people they are talking about had names too. I can't remember them either. Shoot. Their names will be Victor and Sandy.

"Did you hear about Victor and Sandy?" Sherry asked her friend Carrie. Sherry had braces and Carrie was sort of, well, there's no nice way to put it: fat. There, hows that for some ass-kickingly good story telling.

"No, what happened?" Carrie asked, mouth agape. I couldn't tell if her mouth was open because of her shock at her friend's secret or because she was fat and if TV has taught me anything its that fat people always want food. I am fat. And I could go for some food right now. So there you go. TV was right. Good TV. You get a cookie. Unless a fat person eats it first because I'm hungry.

Sherry then got a coy smile on her face because apparently even though she's only in Junior High School, she's already kind of a cunt. "Guess!" she said all metal mouthed and whatnot. Because she has braces. Not because she's a robot. Which she might be. A cunt-bot.

Now, I'm gonna pause here for a minute. I was overhearing this whole thing because they were sitting near me. And my first thought was: "Dag, Victor and Sandy probably broke up. Sucks for them." I came to this conclusion because:

A. Junior High Schoolers are boring and can't do anything except date and break up with each other.

And

B. I'm not a raging idiot.

Carrie the Fatty is, apparently, a raging idiot. We now return you to your regularly scheduled eavesdropped conversation.

Carrie said, "Victor got expelled?"

Sherry said, "No."

"Sandy is a bi-sexual."

"No."

"Victor is getting kicked off the track team."

"No."

I have to pause here again. Granted, I have never met Victor or Sandy and my encounter with their "friends" Sherry and Carrie was brief and fleeting but apparently Victor and Sandy either have the worst reps any pre-teen can ever have or they have been raised by awful, retarded, long-jump-proficient sexually ambiguous parents.

Finally Carrie broke. "Just tell me!"

And Sherry did. And what was that juicy nugget of gossip that I was so intent on finding out? Could it have been something criminal? Could it have been something sordid? Could it have been something to do with the track team? Good God, what?

Sherry said: "Victor and Sandy broke up. Don't tell anyone."

Carrie's mouth was agape again. This time from shock. Or she wanted a sandwich. Its hard to tell with the fatties.

I got off the MUNI and cried a little on the inside.

This post is dedicated to Victor and Sandy--two star-crossed lovers who met on the muddy track of Somewhere in San Francisco Junior High, possibly flirted with the idea of a threesome so Sandy could further explore her apparently budding bi-sexual nature, and then broke up.

RIP, true love, RIP.

And I'm done. Peace out, candy canes.

Rory.

My Dangerous Floor And Other Tales of Triviality

2008-01-03T22:17:00.000-08:00

First of all, I suppose some necessary necessities are in order. In no particular ranking: an apology and a promise and then a probable breaking of that promise.

Second of all, I'm sorry.

Third of all, I'm bored already.

Some explanations: Blogging about my life is boring. This is because I am a boring person and I am strange. For example, I enjoy reading intricately detailed entries on Wikipedia about nothing of importance to my life (movies, comic books, cartoons, and, once, "Saved By the Bell"). These needlessly detailed articles about Zach Morris and company are filled with links to other equally useless things. For example, the filmography of Mario Lopez. However, every now and then the article will provide a link that may lead to something useful. For example, I was once reading about how the DC multiverse impacted various incarnations of the Blue Beetle when I noticed that word "universe" was highlighted in blue, thus signifying its clickability and the possible wonders that may be inherent therein. I clicked the link and it took me a very detailed article on the Universe. Our universe with all its planets and stars and black space and... things. I then thought that I could use Wikipedia's vast resource of knowledge to enrich my life. I started to read this article on the Universe and then got bored and clicked the back button, back into the safely purposeless biography of the Blue Beetle and his powers of blueness. In short, I didn't want to read something because it might actually teach me something. This is means that I had a chance at learning something and thought: "This is far too educational. Take me away from this brain building!"

Now, if you are wondering exactly how that relates to my apology, it doesn't. But I just wrote a paragraph about my Wikipedia habits. If this entertained you, I feel for you deeply.

The apology is to the people who actually did read my other blog and feel cheated that I abruptly stopped two years ago. I'm sorry. This is also my way of saying that I'm not sure whether this is an official good bye or a resurgence of notes from the small room. I'm cagey, I juke and jive, I'm wild and crazy.

Part of my wild and craziness means that I am not a very clean person. This is called a poor transition and I use to demonstrate my caginess. You never know what I'm gonna do next!

Rewind. Some exposition. As you may have ascertained from the title of this blog, I live in a small room. Not an apartment. A room. I rent it from a family who, as best I can tell, live in a garage. There is an old Asian woman who lives down the hall who cooks strange things and makes my room smell like strange things. Needless to say, I don't spend a lot of time here. My girlfriends name is Tanya and she lives in Santa Rosa. I go up to see her on most weekends as she also lives in a small room but her small room is in a house with people her own age and the strangest thing they cook is Mac and Cheese. Also, Tanya has a television which means when I go see her I can catch up on my cultural education, mainly by watching "Celebrity Fit Club," "I Love New York," "Shot at Love With Tila Tequila" and "60 Minutes."

So, yes, Tanya is amazing and I love her very much. I will pause for the momentary appropriate reactions including, but not limited to:

a. Indignant, bitter scoffs

b. Cooing "aws" and "how sweets"

c. and "What a pussy."

Where was I? Okay, so I spend five days a week in this tiny room that smells like cabbage mixed with chocolate sauce or fondue doused in cranberry juice or wet dog mixed with Crest Toothpaste or any other such odd and gag worthy smell you can think of, dear reader. But on top of these smells (or rather, beneath them) is my floor. It is wood, I think, and extremely dusty. I have brush and dustpan that actually have a thin layer of dust on them. So there's that. I don't like my floor. I don't like my room very much either but the floor receives the most glares and glowers and other signs of malevolence. I think my floor is out to get me. I hear it every night plotting to creak and crack and give way directly underneath my bed so I fall down into the garage/palatial estate that is my landlord's living quarters.

This was okay but just a minute ago I dropped a cracker on the floor and actually had to think for a few seconds before picking it up. I had to THINK about it. Because I didn't want to TOUCH my floor with my HAND. This is my brain, ladies and gents. I came up with an acceptable compromise: I used a tissue to pick it up and throw it out. There is no five second rule here unless you count the five seconds it took me to think "I could use a tissue! To shield me! From the floor! Huzzah!"

And I'm done. Like I said, I don't know if I'll be back to this bloggy thing. I've been thinking a lot about Cheez Whiz lately. Perhaps I'll write about that. And then you guys can tell me to stop taking up space on the internet and boot me off.

I'm going to go read something important on Wikipedia now. Probably about Cheez Whiz.

Happy 2008 everyone!

Rory.

Greetings and Salutations

2006-12-31T23:39:00.000-08:00

It is with no small amount of humble appreciation do I respect the Midnight Society.

If you are in my age group (older than 18, younger than 22) you no doubt watched, at some point in your life, the classic Nickelodeon anthology show "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" The only way you managed to avoid this show is if you lived under a rock during your formative elementary school years or are Hungarian. The idea of "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" focused on a group of campfire storytellers who met in the middle of the woods at, presumably, midnight and told creepy stories.

Now, ignoring the fact that this group of latch-key youths had the most irresponsible parents in the history of legal biological guardians, the Midnight Society managed to creep me out on a fairly regular basis. Most of the time the stories were old classics with slightly updated twists, like the story of a camera that steals your youth or a retelling of Sleepy Hollow. Sure, it had its moments of inspiration (like the ultimately depressing "Tale of the Super Specs" or "The Tale of the Dream Girl," which, according to the infallible film-geek Bible imdb.com, was the basis for M. Night Shymalan's "The Sixth Sense") but it, more often than not, fell prey to overly campy plots like "The Tale of the Ghastly Grinner" (during which a pre-teen wanna-be comic book artist is haunted by a ridiculous Joker parody in purple spandex and, yes, the reason I remember this episode is because I think comic books are cool, so... there.)

Despite the quality (or lack thereof), I respect the kids of The Midnight Society as storytellers, because, despite their age and general insomniac tendency, they never seemed at a loss as to how to start their tales.

This is in direct contrast to me. It took my two different opening paragraphs to realize that I am really bad at beginning posts. And seeing as how this is the beginning of a new blog, a new year, and a new Blogger, I figured I better make it grand. Then I ditched grand, remembered that Elisha Cuthbert was a member of The Midnight Society while channel surfing one day, and decided to just go for it. My creative process, ladies and gents.

Hi, my name's Rory, and you'll come to realize that those first four paragraphs have little to do with what follows.

See, I had this other blog. And it, sadly, was not my first. It was my third. It still exists if you want to see what I was like before the creation of this cooler blog with this cooler version of Blogger. Fulltiltboogie.blogspot.com was something I created three years ago. It never had a singular vision or an attempt at semi-cogent posts. It was literally a boogie, a freestyle spasm that usually related to the events and thoughts in my life at the times of writing. Now, I can't guarantee that this new blog will have be a "real" blog in which I write about "real" things or meet any "real" deadlines but I will tell you, in the spirit of the quickly approaching new year, I can say I'll give it the ol' college try.

In 26 minutes 2006 will begin its journey into history, to be judged and recorded by people smarter than me. The rest of us look toward the 365 days stretched before us and hope that they will bring a better life or, at least, less weight around the midsection. I can't make you any guarantees about what this blog will be in the same way that I can't say what 2007 will hold.

But it'll be fun to see what'll happen.

So, in the words of one of my heroes, Bill Watterson:

"Its a magical world, Hobbes ol' buddy. Let's go exploring."