Santiago (Paradiso), Chile

“One of my favorite places in the world.” – My wife

That’s the view from my Aunt Gloria’s apartment in Santiago. My wife and I found ourselves waking up to that view for one week in May 2013. My wife was five months pregnant, and some of our best friends in the world (The Korols) took over a year off from work to travel the world. The Korols were on the continent of South America in May 2013 and encouraged my wife and me to meet them in Santiago, where I have family, for our babymoon. They actually convinced us at a wedding in April in Austin, which was its own great time. But the week in Santiago in May 2013, with my dad’s family, and our Korol family, turned out to be one of the best weeks of my life.

It must have started when my family picked us up from the airport — Aunt Gloria, Natalia (cousin), and Paolo (basically cousin-in-law) — met us inside the airport with warm embraces and huge smiles. It was cold in Santiago, but warmth was a theme for the entire trip. I forget how loving my dad’s family can be, but am quickly reminded every time I see them. I miss that from him, and like being reminded of where it came from. The first night we went to an eccentric restaurant for dinner where the Korols met us. (NOTE: The Korols throughout our trip were impeccable — they met us whenever/wherever we said — and my family treated them like Aguirres). The food and drinks were wonderful, and there were antiques all over the restaurant. When the weather is nice, there are all sorts of interesting places to sit outside.

The next day we next took a trip to Valparaiso with Natalia (and Paolo), Felipe (and Diana), and Francisca (and Simon). A day-trip full of beautiful sites, chorriano, and cerveza. I remembered the colors of Valparaiso from previous visits, but they seemed brighter this time. We spent the rest of the week in various neighborhoods of Santiago. We went to the human rights museum that former (and now again) President Bachelet was instrumental in building, documenting the numerous injustices and abuses suffered by the Chilean people under the brutal dictator Pinochet. That was emotional for Paolo. We climbed the Cerro de la Virgen and then descended into the Bellavista neighborhood to eat steak and drink red wine. We spent time walking around Barrio Lastarria, shopping, eating and drinking. I remember fondly a rainy afternoon where we ducked into a bar, ordered two bottles of Chilean wine, had snacks, and talked to the Korols about everything.

One night, close to the apartment where the Korols were staying (thanks Air B&B!), we went to see one of Natalia’s favorite Chilean musicians — Jepe! She loves him, and I think Paolo loves Natalia enough to tolerate Jepe. I had been over-served earlier in the day, which led to me say some not-so-nice things about Jepe, which Natalia did not appreciate. But that show was at a local bar, which we never would have found without the knowledge of my family. Paolo and Natalia hosted us (yep, including the Korols) for dinner one night at their house — the house that Natalia grew up in with my Uncle Sergio. They cooked fish and multiple salads. It was raining and we were soaked from the walk, but nothing that some warm socks and wine couldn’t cure. The Korols also cooked for us one night in their rented apartment so Wilson and I could watch the Eastern conference finals between the Heat and Pacers. We had dragged everyone to a sports bar a few nights earlier to watch Heat-Pacers — the Chileans patiently navigated all the soccer games to find a channel showing the basketball game. We visited a vineyard close to Santiago, brought back a bottle of wine that we shared with the Korols months later in DC, and had an incredible brunch on our last day. Paolo also introduced us to the Terremoto (a cocktail) at one of his favorite bars, La Clinica.

Before going to the airport on our last day, we spent time at Felipe’s apartment with wine and food. We packed our bags and Felipe played Lana del Ray in the car as we drove around Santiago. I did not want to leave. Neither did my wife. I hadn’t felt that way in a while.

I’m sure I forgot several things in my recap. But once we got back, I told my wife something that I wanted to share here: that week had everything I want. I was surrounded by people that I love — my wife, the Korols, and my Chilean family. We explored together, we ate together, we drank together, we experienced together, and just spent time together. And the entire week we were all collectively wrapped up in that warm embrace that was delivered upon arrival at the airport. Plus, I felt my baby (boy) kick for the first time in Aunt Gloria’s apartment. My wife said she felt a cultural familiarity to how she grew up. She liked that, and I liked that.

So this is not only an opportunity for me to reminisce, but to say thank you, to my Aunt, my cousins, Paolo and Diana, and all of their gorgeous children, for allowing my wife, the Korols, and me to spend a week in paradise with them. We will all no doubt be back.

The Master of Nothing

My wife and I went to see The Master this past weekend.  The reasons were several.  First, Grantland had previewed a bunch of movies coming out before the end of the year and highlighted that Paul Thomas Anderson (Boogie Nights, Magnolia, Punch-Drunk Love and some others) wrote and directed it.  Second, Joaquin Phoenix was back properly acting instead of doing this.  Third, Philip Seymour Hoffman can carry a movie alone.  Fourth, we love Landmark E Street Cinemas and are trying to support it (and you can order liquor there — and not no paper cup — I’m talking a glass of Jack Daniels).  With all that being said, I was hesitant to take my wife because she can sometimes make snap judgments about movies.  For example, within 10 seconds of J Edgar starting, she leaned over and said, “I’m going to hate this movie.”  The stakes were even higher with my wife because she had picked The Perks of Being a Wallflower for us to see a couple of weeks ago, and it turned out to be the best movie I’ve seen in a while.  I knew The Master would be a slower pace.  I knew it was a risk.  And with the pressure on, Mr. Anderson, Mr. Phoenix, and Mr. Hoffman decided to take a shit on our Saturday night – like die on the toilet Elvis-style shit. 

The movie was about something, I think, but had no story arc.  Hoffman was The Master, basically starting a cult.  I read somewhere that it was about Scientology.  Here’s an idea – you could just come out say that you made a movie about the origins of Scientology.  I’m into that.  The unnecessary mysteriousness around something as basic as – this movie is about X – is ridiculous.  The pace was lethargic.  Amy Adams jerks Hoffman off while imploring him to stop boozing.  The booze in this case was homemade elixirs made my Phoenix that included paint thinner.  I’m being very negative, but I’m also not making any of this up.  I’ll try to talk about some of the positives.  Phoenix’s acting performance alone held my interest for about an hour.  He was gaunt, kept his shoulders shrugged, and the right side of his mouth always stayed a little bit more closed than the left side.  He genuinely seemed fucked up.  Hoffman sang monologues a cappella and delivered a nice performance.  A couple of memorable (and beautiful) scenes were when both men got arrested and have a heated confrontation in two jail cells side-by-side, and the scene when Hoffman takes Phoenix, his daughter, and son-in-law to the desert to ride motorcycles as fast as they can to an undetermined, but specific, point in the distance.  I sort of get it, but not really. 

Which brings me to my last point – I might be done with the overly artistic movie that is allegedly so smart that it is not obvious what it’s actually about.  I mean, I like to think.  I do it every day, and my job demands I think about *big* stuff all the time.   But now I’m THINKING that maybe I don’t want to see movies that make me work really hard to piece together some semblance of a story.  The Perks of Being a Wallflower was about being in high school.  I remember that, and can relate my own experiences to it:  easily and enjoyably.  (That’s why I love Superbad so much too).  Perks was a wonderful story about being a teenager, and wanting to be accepted.  I mean, even Drake knows about that (for best Drake verse ever, go to 2:05)  Maybe I buried the lead, but The Master was about a screwed up drunk who wandered onto a boat one night and was manipulated by an up-and-coming cult leader.  Is that interesting to me?  Not really.  Can I relate to this?  Nope.  Did I remember my best times at the beach of making sand-females and then finger-fucking them?  STILL NO PAUL THOMAS ANDERSON.  The most positive thoughts I could walk away with came from the acting of Phoenix and Hoffman.  The aforementioned jail scene was a powerful duet.  But that was an isolated experience.  I would have preferred to go watch those two act random scenes together in some sort of actor’s studio workshop.  Did I mention that The Master is 2.5 hours long?  HELP!!!  So damn you Paul Thomas Anderson, for putting a stench on our Saturday night — one that we couldn’t even comprehend.     

With Friends Like These

My boys threw my bachelor party in Chicago last weekend, and in a short phrase, it was perfect.  It was full of booze and sports, and a 1700 sq ft suite looking out to Lake Michigan.  I want to live there.  Derek Rose apparently does, which was confirmed by two of my friends seeing him in the elevator on the way to the gym.  He didn’t have a knee brace on…#faking?  But more than whiskey, wine, shots, baseball, golf, and the olympics, it was a stark reminder of the strength of brotherhood that meant the most to me.  Upon reflection on Monday back home, which I took off from work to de-tox, I watched the Big Chill.  The first time I watched the Big Chill I was probably 8 years old, and I only remember something sexually awkward happening, but not much else.  Maybe some drug use.  Watching it this time was different.  The Big Chill is about old friends, optimistic and hopeful youth, and nostalgia.  The characters are only brought together because one of the crew commits suicide and all are brought back together under the same roof.  I related to it in some ways, and not others.

Harkening back to the good old days is usually an exercise in focusing in on the good times and blocking out the bad.  It’s easier that way.  But my bachelor party weekend reminded me of something else; something that I am proud of.  It’s more than being proud of the accomplishments of my group of friends, which I would hold up against any set of 10 guys in the world.  I mean that.  But I’m proud of the relationships that I’ve maintained, and proud to be associated with a group like this.  In the Big Chill, the characters bemoan losing touch with Alex (the guy who killed himself).  I completely understand how it happens.  Life gets in the way, whether it’s work or kids or something entirely different.  But for me, losing touch is an excuse, and a weak path to walk.  I think you have to work for (and sometimes fight for) the positive influences in your life.  There is plenty of negative out there in the world grasping at you to pull you down.  And it is your responsibility to recognize the good and shed the bad; no one else’s.  I have made it a choice (and a priority) to stay close with this group of guys beacuse of their positive influence on my life.  And something that I couldn’t quite articulate to my fiance when I came home happens every time I’m around this group of guys (or a subet of them).  So I’ll try to explain here, using the Big Chill as an aid.

Trump

Champagne Campaign

My 180 Dark Twisted Fantasy

I have a confession.  I downloaded Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy almost immediately when it came out in the fall of 2010, and I hated it.  I downloaded the whole thing because I liked “Power” so much.  “Power” was on my workout, running, and party playlists.  I vividly remember running to “Power” on the National Mall, looking at the Capitol, and thinking that this whole city, that building, all these people, are seeking the power that Kanye is rapping about.  The people of our nation’s capital are fueled by it.  Needless to say, I was thrilled to listen to the WHOLE album.  My first listen was on a long walk I had to the grocery store.  I started with “Dark Fantasy” and quickly started skipping to search for “Power.”  Listened to it.  Awesome.  Then I ran into “All of the Lights”  — damn that track was tight.  Then, um, I hated every other song.  I remember getting impatient and skipping after only hearing a few seconds of a few songs.  Then, and I can’t really remember why I did this, I decided that I was extremely disappointed and hated the whole album.  I never even gave it a second chance.  Well, until I did.  But only after inexplicably hating the album for over a year, making fun of Kanye for being a jerk and crazy, really disliking Watch the Throne (which I still do), and agreeing with our President when he said this.  What finally pushed me to give it another shot was not the 2,456 Grammies Kanye won, or the fact that “All of the Lights” had replaced “Power” on multiple playlists; but it was my fiance hearing “Dark Fantasy” and “kind of liking it,” and my sister’s boyfriend (music producer) telling me over and over again how good the album was.  Fine.  I’ll listen to it again.  Here is what happened over the past several months, song by song.  And maybe the other dope boy will finally give this album its first real listen.

Mr. Belding In The House

So I was in Atlantic City (for the first time) last weekend for a bachelor party, and we went to the Harrahs pool party on Saturday night.  We bought a table, drank bottles, and saw no models.  But, we did see Mr. Belding.  When we walked into Harrahs and sat down at our table, our private screen was showing old re-runs of Saved by the Bell; like Zach convincing Kelly to come study at his house and Jesse and Lisa climbing through the window to ruin Zach’s plans to slow-dance with Kelly instead (so innocent) re-runs.  Of the 11 guys I was with, most of us really enjoyed having the show to watch, but a couple guys looked puzzled and asked why the show was on?  I embraced the randomness, but eventually we put ESPN on so we could watch highlights.  Don’t worry though, the projection screen above the DJ kept playing SBTB.

Then, everything made sense.  Mr. Belding (Dennis Haskins) was introduced on the DJ stage.  I thought this was awesome, and hilarious.  But then, I looked a little closer at Mr. Belding, and got incredibly sad.  When he made the rounds and I shook his hand, I got an up close and personal look at what I was afraid of.  Mr. Belding looks like he eats only burgers and pizza, drinks every single day and night of the week, and permanently lost his Golds Gym membership card.  I wondered how many kids at the pool party even knew who he was.  Someone in our party said that they were convinced he had diabetes.  So seeing Mr. Belding reminded me of a couple of things that I’ve thought about before — the length of a celebrity’s career, and what they do when it’s over.

When Mr. Belding was on stage, I pictured him waking up that day in his hotel room, hungover, chest burning, and the lump of his belly covering his waist and blocking the view of his legs.  I’m sure he was slouching.  I imagined what was going through his throbbing head — was he looking foward to his guest appearance at Harrahs pool party?  Does he consider this his job?  To make a buck I guess you do what you have to, but I don’t think Mr. Belding aspired to make appearances for wasted teenagers, I mean, 21 and ups, at an Atlantic City casino.  But, what else is Mr. Belding supposed to do?  His career as an actor is over.  If you can’t act in anything anymore, but you’re an actor, what do you do?  Same goes for musicians — like Bruce Springstein confirmed at his Super Bowl halftime appearance a couple of years ago — when it’s over, you do Super Bowl slides.

But seriously, if you build your career to do one thing, and you can’t do it anymore, what do you do?  I guess if you make enough money, you do whatever the hell you want to do.  You don’t need to work for money, but ambition certainly doesn’t disappear, does it?  But now we’re veering off into personal motivation.  This article is also veering off a bit.  I guess the non-celebrity version of Mr. Belding’s ending is called retirement.  But there is something especially sad about a public figure completely losing his or her appeal, publicly.  It’s a deterioration that reminds me of getting old.  So thanks Mr. Belding for bringing me down at the Harrahs pool party on Saturday night.  But to be honest, I watched Shame on the train ride into town, which could have been the true contributing factor to this melancholy post.

Da’ Booty

What is it that everybody has, and some pirates and thieves try to take?  A Tribe Called Quest asked this question, and the answer is Da’ Booty.  The Greg Williams/Sean Payton bounty scandal that has rocked the NFL the past few days reminded me of this timeless question.  I am going to provide two opposing takes on the situation, and let all three of our readers decide which side makes the most sense.  For more sophisticated writing on this story, please check out this article by Charles Pierce on Grantland. 

Out of the gate!

As the very first post on a brand new site, I guess this falls into the “About” category just as much as This Site and The Vitals do.  Since the idea for this site has been in the works for a while, it’s only fair to tell you why.