This past weekend as I was roaming around with Paul, I stopped into Toy Tokyo. It was someplace I hadn’t really been in a while, and I forgot how much I loved. It’s one of those places that reminds me how cool New York is/was, and takes me to a really happy place. Unfortunately, I’m a collector (not hoarder), so it’s very hard for me to go into places like this and not spend money. So I avoid them.
Most of the things in these places are what I view as accessible art (sometimes accessible, not always). They’re often limited pieces, specially made for a special audience. They look awesome, they’re always conversation pieces, and I love them. If anyone knows me, even just a little, they know how happy these collectibles make me.
Read MoreOne of the paragraphs in this NYtimes.com article about the writer Franz Kafka begins, “We all know how he ate his food: he “Fletcherized” it, chewing each bite a hundred times before swallowing. He was almost six feet tall, meticulously groomed and preternaturally self-absorbed.” That got me thinking on the topic of writers, and creatives in general. We are a crazy, neurotic bunch.
Read MoreThe legend of Nosferatu never ceases to amaze, though it’s rare that a vampire movie is exciting anymore. The genre has been handed over to tweens and housewives and rabid bastions of non-taste in favor of safe-bets and box office revenue. The raw sex appeal, style, and yes, horror, three key factors that make these tales so alluring, have systematically been stripped away in favor of puppy-love and cutsie PG rated innuendoes. The vampire, it seems, has finally died.
But fans of this horror subgenre know that the vampire never really dies, it just goes back into the coffin for a while. It lurks beneath the floorboards, brooding and waiting, dreaming up new ways in which to fascinate and terrify a new generation. And good thing, because the best stories of the erotically undead come out of this brooding period.
One of those films is the curious, awesome Kiss of the Damned. It stars the inappropriately hot Milo Ventimiglia as Paolo, a successful writer who has escaped the city to a cottage in a small, upstate town. He’s sought tranquility from the crazy New York streets to focus on writing his next big hit, a film that everyone back home seems to be eager for.
Read MoreWild animal/human narratives can be triumphant (Gorillas in the Mist) or tragic (Grizzly Man), but they are always fascinating. We share this crazy planet with so many other species we’ll never truly understand. And they’ll never truly understand us. It’s just nature doing its thing. Ah, the mystery of it all.
Read Moreby Paul Florez
Walking down John F. Kennedy Boulevard in Jersey City is a curious thing. There’s an odd combination of retail chains sprinkled with what’s left of the great mama and papa shops that defined our countries culture for so many years.
In many ways Jersey City is a place of redemption and new beginnings. Resting in the shadow of Lady Liberty, it’s not unusual to see families that have recently immigrated to the United States walk the streets with their loved ones on a damp Saturday morning. These families seem at peace with the burning logos of Quiznos, CVS, and Papa Johns and do don’t yield to wayward pedestrians who spring pass them trying to avoid the rain.
Read MoreNudie men photos directed at women is perhaps a curious notion to some. I’ve heard stupid things like, aren’t women averse to porn? As if the entire female population were all Tipper Gores and Anita Bryants. Idiots. The answer is hell no they aren’t. Why would they be? Women of the 70s saw Playboy make it’s way in the sun, boobs and buttocks and all. It was a reputable, even high-brow magazine at times (journalistically speaking, of course). Women, and let’s face it, gay men, wanted something for themselves. Playgirl was born.
Perhaps due to its name (though actually having no relation to Playboy at all) or its brazen content, Playgirl quickly gained an immense pop culture presence when it was introduced in 1973. Over time, it lost its way and found it again, and has had a generally tumultuous life throughout. It was disregarded, loved, hated, reviled, and finally the novelty of it all was embraced, and then dismissed. But during its first final years of print,* a small group of women in their 20s (with the occasional assistance of a certain tall man) brought it back to a place where not only people talked about it, but where news outlets legitimately covered its content. People actually wanted to buy it again!
Read MoreThe term “hipster” has out-stayed its welcome across all media and casual conversations alike. I’m all for labels when they apply. Sometimes, stereotypes exist for a reason. Clichés can be nice and comfortable. Streamline and standard is just a-ok. Categories are nice and neat. But other times, it’s just a simple lack of creativity. It’s also lazy and cringe inducingly inane. Every time I hear or read the term “hipster,” it’s like someone’s right-wing conservative parent saying “those club drugs,” “homosexuals,” “that rock music” or “blacks.” It just sounds…stupid. So please, writers, cultural commentators, casual observers and the general public, stop using it.
Read MoreAfter an author has been dead for 70 years, their written works (typically) go into public domain. At this point, these important works belong to us, collectively. But that doesn’t mean we’ve always treated them responsibly. The brilliant content of their aged pages can often go unread, unloved, and even forgotten. Like immortal vampires entering yet another decade of existence, these classic pieces of literature are always in need of a new life.
A joint project by the Creative Action Network, DailyLit, and Harvard Bookstore called Recovering the Classics is hoping to to give these classics just that. Their mission is to crowdsource the talents of designers and illustrators, tasking them to re-imagine cover art for the first 50 greatest literary works in public domain history. Imagine, your design gracing the cover of “The Metamorphosis” or “Madame Bovary.”
Read MoreOn top of being Memorial Day (thanks, US troops), yesterday was also the birthdays of horror legends Vincent Price and Christopher Lee.
Read More
