Welcome to the Terrordome

Watched The Gatekeepers recently, a documentary about Shin Bet, Israel's internal secret service. Admission: The only reason this caught my eye was because of my friend's web series from a few years ago, which was also named The Gatekeepers -- those short films are about doormen at exclusive clubs. Somehow the director of this Gatekeepers, Dror Moreh, convinced six former heads of Shin Bet to speak openly about their experiences. It was incredible how candid they were about their actions, and to hear their current political viewpoints. The message of the film is to end the occupation of the former Palestinian territories.

Embarrassingly, I couldn't tell you much about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, aside from some cursory misinformed tidbits. My friend who had a dustup with the Israeli community while serving as the festival director for the San Diego Women's Film Festival a few years ago, gave me some perspective through her experience, but I never took the time out to pay much more attention to it. (Aside from when Lilly tells me she hates Natalie Portman for her Zionist stance. Fact: Portman is my celebrity crush numero uno dating back many years. How should that factor into my allegiance to one side or the other?)

General details about the Six Day War, the assassination of Prime Minister Rabin, the Oslo Accords, all of it was lost on me. I had no idea what the significance of the Dome of the Rock was. I thought the Temple Mount had to do with the Sermon on the Mount. Whoops. What I do know now is that dragging someone along to watch this movie -- on a late Monday night -- was probably the wrong move. Akin to when I convinced some unlucky friends that Cave of Forgotten Dreams and Magic Mike were going to be awesome. Sorry guys! At least Matthew McConaughey was fantastic right?

The documentary itself is pretty good though, if simply for the fact that these six people are interviewed at such length. Some of the visual effects techniques were kind of neat too, with sort of stop motion pan and scans combined with archival footage. Overall, this movie dovetailed well with my effort to learn more about the Middle East. Another way I've been trying to do that has been to take this Sporcle quiz for Middle Eastern countries every few days. Embarrassingly, my first attempt was a paltry six out of twenty one. I couldn't even get the bodies of water right. Baby steps, baby steps.

Recently I've been reading about a lot of articles about intelligence organizations and terrorism because of all the Zero Dark Thirty torture stuff. Plus that article about the Navy Seal who shot Osama and now his life is in collapse. And I'd have to recommend "The Hunt for 'Geronimo,'" an article about Obama's decision making process to okay the hit on Bin Laden.

• Dror Moreh: How I persuaded six intelligence chiefs to pour out their hearts
• Amy Goodman: The Israel-Palestine drama will play out at the Oscars
• A.O. Scott review of The Gatekeepers
• The Hunt For "Geronimo" (2012)
• The Man Who Killed Osama bin Laden... Is Screwed

Speaking of aggressive inquisitions, the other day I hopped online and George immediately pounced on me, asking where I'd been all week. At first, I did what anyone would do: deny deny deny. Then she said "I saw your dot on Find My Friends at the same place, don't even try that." Faced with hard surveillance data, I was forced to concede that I had been away from my apartment during usual operating hours.

You live by the iPhone, you die by the iPhone.

I reiterate that allowing someone to lojack you via Find My Friends is the greatest sign of trust between two people. The accuracy on that thing is crazy. I've pinpointed my friend down to the back of a bar in Tennessee while she was on a work trip. Clearly this app was made just for my enjoyment. I will cover the many uses of Find My Friends in Chapter 13 ("The Use of Spies") of my forthcoming relationship book. Please pre-order now.

Traditionally George and I trade personal information the way two warring nations do, by relying on outside sources and counter-intelligence. This is likely a remnant from our childhood, when I regularly broke into her Hello Kitty diary with my matching key. That probably created an environment of distrust, which has lasted to this day. (For the record, she is guilty of similar types of indiscretions. All's fair in secrets and more secrets.) Add in both of our insatiable thirsts for gossip, and we are each other's worst enemy.

We may have turned a corner the other day though, as George shot straight and asked me about something directly, bypassing our usual back channels. I tried to soft shoe my way around her probing questions but since 2013 is about trying to be more open, I thought I could give her a few tidbits. Here's a partial transcript, which also accurately captures the spirit of our typical AIM conversations.

At the end, when George's suspicions turned out to be correct, she crowed with victory and declared that this must be her secret twin power. Then she went idle, leaving me with nothing in exchange. This sharing moment felt very unilateral and unfulfilling. Georgette, you owe me.

All About My Flower

The night before Valentine's Day, we went to go see the Vagina Monologues, which is annually made available, royalty free, for anyone to perform during that week. For the uninformed, the monologues are culled from "interviews [Eve Ensler] conducted with 200 women about their views on sex, relationships, and violence against women." The version we saw was put on by the NYU Law School, and I was impressed with the quality of the performances. Less impressive were the monologues themselves.

Mary, who went to a liberal arts women's college, told me that it might be intense -- she dragged her boyfriend along, who predictably didn't like it much. Personally, I felt like the monologues were very feminism 101. Or maybe 102, to be way generous. Either way, I had to keep reminding myself that the play was conceived and originally performed almost twenty years ago, when its effect was certainly more groundbreaking. I guess I thought it would be more progressive, or at least shocking. I'm also still working out why so many of the monologues were very (anti-)male reactionary. I, for some reason, thought it would have a more celebratory element. And I was trying to figure out if there was any correlation between the attractive cast, the mixed audience, and the selections for the different parts.

My main comments afterwards centered around if the monologues accounted for the ethnicity of the characters, or if the actresses had the freedom to perform their own ethnicities. That sounds weird, hopefully you know what I mean. The answer is to that question is that "no" the actresses perform whoever the interviewee was. So basically that meant a lot of the monologues were performed with an English or a Southern accent, despite a rainbow assortment of cast members. As usual, racial minorities -- exempting the blacks -- were non-existent.

I also wondered if there were trans versions of this. Or if an all male cast ever performed the monologues, and would they do it straight or try to be comedic? I asked my friends if they thought it should be a male requirement to watch the Vagina Monologues, and the answer was mixed. I'd have to agree.

Also, at the end, as part of a One Billion Rising video presentation, the crowd was asked to stand up to support successive statements. Since I am loathe to participate in any group activity, I remained firmly rooted to my chair, even as they progressed from stuff like "stand if you know someone who has been a victim of sexual violence" to "stand if you are against sexual assault on women and children."

I felt like an asshole, since I was the only one seated, but also justifiably indignant that their end statement was designed to get everyone on their feet. Why not go broader and just say "Stand if you are against death and taxes!" Clap clap clap.

On the actual Valentine's Day, we went to an oh so hipster bar in Park Slope for a power ballad singalong. Whites as far as the eye could see! Plus us and a few black people grouped behind us in formation. Basically the singalong consisted of a big screen showing the original music videos while lyrics scrolled along. While I normally detest public karaoke, when no one can commandeer the mic it's actually quite thrilling to belt along to "(Everything I Do) I Do It For You" and "Kiss From a Rose." I am going to add a singalong to my list of wedding events. Perhaps in-between the actual karaoke sets.

Also, despite having a drink named But I Won't Do That (whiskey and ginger beer), they didn't play Meatloaf's classic. Instead the MC gave the crowd a choice between "November Rain" or "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" -- citing being only able to play one nine minute song -- and of course Guns N Roses won in a popularity contest. Horrible choice, as "November Rain's" intro is like super long and boring, while the video for "I'd Do Anything for Love" is amazing right from the start.

During middle school, I had this taped to a treasured VHS cassette, and I watched that shit over and over. And then I went deep into the Meatloaf discography. "Deep" like I know more about Bat Out of Hell I & II than anyone really should.

Oh, I just checked. The video for that song came out in 1993, meaning I was fifteen years old. Which meant I was solidly in high school...and yet obsessing over Meatloaf. No wonder I ended high school virtually friendless. Aha!

With Nothing But Loose Ends

Spent a few hours at the passport office today. Most of the foursquare comments centered on bringing earplugs for the screaming babies. They were right. Tip: Even with an appointment, the wait will be no shorter than an hour or two. For some reason I thought the waiting area would be populated by (white) Americans anxious to expedite their passport for a tropical vacation -- the reason I was there. Instead the place was ninety percent minorities and people with accents. I was one of three Asian faces, I counted two white people, one of them an around the world backpacker.

The level of service was atrocious, and the ladies and gents of the New York Passport Agency could not be less helpful. But for me, a person with no obligations or time constraints, or a true destination, that was fine. These other people had places to be however. All these immigrants, who I realized must have come here -- "here" meaning America -- and are now trying to get out, maybe to visit family or friends they haven't seen in awhile, were summarily told to fix some nitpick or to "come back next week." And the pace of the workers. Atrocious.

I guess that's how it is at most government agencies. Why be urgent, right? I think my guy literally nodded off in front of me while I was standing a foot and a half away from him, staring through the plexiglass partition. He was the most useless person I'd interacted with in awhile -- and yet there was nothing I could do but smile and be patient. After all, he held the stamp, and the upper hand. At his whim, he could tell me to return next week for some minor detail too.

The waiting room was full of crying babies, of course, and damn if I didn't want to slap them all. But waiting for my passport, knowing that I had all the right paperwork and shit together, I'd never felt so American. For better or worse. I found myself examining if I really even qualified as "immigrant" in comparison. I mean, I just got on a plane and flew here. Our parents took care of everything. I assume my dad did most of it, since his English was better. Or maybe I'm underestimating my mom.

This recently expired passport, it's the one I got right after my dad died. I had to fly in from New York on short notice, but couldn't go overseas yet because my passport was missing. Instead of going home, I flew into Los Angeles to get my visa and passport stuff done. I forgot which one we had to wait for, the visa or the passport, but it took a few days. (My mom had left ahead of us.) That missing passport gave George and I the chance to return to San Diego for a few days, before heading to China.

Since then, I'd credited those few days as the time that gave us the space to feel somewhat less stunned. Today made me wonder why it took so long to get a passport/visa back then, if it's possible to get a one day turnaround. And I wondered what would have been different, if we had gone to China a bit sooner?

"We arrived here on Thursday after a weekend of waiting at San Diego for a replacement for my lost passport. I flew home last Friday but due to my missing passport my mom went ahead to China while me and George waited. Life had undeniably changed but the weekend in San Diego, at home, with friends was almost eerily 'normal.' Despite this awkwardness, i am really glad i had a few days to collect myself before we headed out here."
-November 18, 2001-

For quick get out of towns: The Flight Deal. We almost got to the beaches of the Dominican Republic a few weeks ago -- say hey Junot Diaz! -- but my passport wasn't ready. Yup, all my fault.

The morning after the blizzard, my friend texted me out of the blue. She was at Penn Station, stuck in New York and basically penniless. I hadn't seen her in fifteen plus years, but we'd started talking again last year. Our relationship has been strange, then and now, but I hoofed it out immediately to get her. It was actually a pretty appropriate way to meet up again. Unexpected and surprisingly, but it felt right.

I spent the beginning of my sophomore year hanging out with this friend on street corners and parks, squatting and talking while she smoked and I flicked her butts. I wandered around Penn Station looking for a familiar face, not quite sure if I would recognize her.

We saw each other in the hallway outside Dunkin Donuts. We hugged, I took her bag, and then we headed out to this diner across the street. It was a way station and just depressing, despite the neon. Maybe because of the neon. Seeing her completed my list of long lost college friends. Flashback: I found another one a few years ago, on a street corner in San Francisco. I guess college is officially over.

And with Facebook and social media, there are no more long lost friends. Only friends you can't get rid of, right?

Frank Ocean, I can't quit you. If we don't find a karaoke spot that does Channel Orange soon, we're gonna cry. "Frank Ocean Can Fly."

Warm Bodies

A week or so ago, I was introduced to the world of Google Docs budgeting -- added: a copy right here! It's not any different than just tracking your expenses on a Microsoft Spreadsheet, but being able to share and compare budgets is kind of fun. George's first comment was "Your dining out and play budget is higher than both me and Ameer's combined!" That is likely technically true because while other people have cars, loans, mortgages, insurance, savings, stocks, bills, memberships, a future, etc. I don't really have any of those things.

My fixed monthly outlay is rent, cell phone bill, and Netflix account. Well, now a Wifi bill because we are finally getting Internet for our house instead of stealing it from the coffee shop downstairs. Since this is my year of actually having money, that has left me more disposable income than usual. What else am I supposed to do except spend it? There's a reason I should never have money: I blow right through it.

Analyzing my (huge over)spending during January, I've come up with an incomparable budget moving forward. Most of it is dedicated to the aforementioned food and play, as just stepping out into New York tends to cost $50-100 each time. Seriously, how the hell do people live here? I don't even drink but simply hanging out, or catching dinner and a movie is like fifty bucks. Plus I've been taking cabs home because of the time of night -- or weather. It all added up to a January that saw me more than double up my budgetary goals. Whoops.

In my defense, a lot of that was spent for Celtics tickets and replacing the iPhone, but that does not account for the ridiculous amounts lost to the mysterious "cash" category. Lately I've been thinking I really need to rewatch Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead. "I'm right on top of that Rose!" has been ringing through my head and I've said it out loud but nobody gets my reference. Anyway, DTMTBD was strangely influential and also taught a generation what petty cash was. There's even a "DTMTBD taught me what petty cash is" Facebook page which I just thumbed up, but you can Google that for yourself.

The upside of not having money for awhile is that I never shopped. Now that I have some money, I have bought more random shit than I really need. There's a fierce shopper in me, he's just been kept sedated by a lack of suitcase room and cash. (Most of my teen years were spent as a mall rat. I knew all the local malls like the back of my hand. Like I still know where all the stores from twenty years ago in North County Fair were.) Now I've got like, extra towels and sheets and more clothes than can fit in two suitcases. Plus a heater, a humidifier, and other things I'll have to dump when I move away. And did I recently pay twenty five dollars -- with shipping -- for four pounds of gummy penguins? Yes I did.

Who really needs four pounds of gummy penguins?

The gravy train may end in early spring, as the job job pays an undetermined, variable amount so we'll see how that goes. Right now I actually have savings in the form of book money, but that has been earmarked for potential travel and a forthcoming huge tax hit. So it could be back to the poorhouse soon. Anyway, for February, we're all going to try to stick to our budget and I'm gonna come in under. With the help of Google Docs -- and Mint -- I'm gonna become the stickler that George is about her expenses.

We can't all be accountants but we can all aspire to be anal like one.

Speaking of numbers, here's an article about a woman who wrote a book called Data, A Love Story: How I Gamed Online Dating To Meet My Match. Aside from being super bitter about not having written this book, I enjoyed the article for its sheer exhaustiveness. The author drops a seven two point list about her ideal romantic partner. Then she parsed it down to a few tiers, and assigned a point system. Of course, I've basically already done this, a wish list for potential date-tees. I'd link to it but I haven't looked at it in awhile and it probably need to revision. Suffice to say, numbers one and two are still "must read books" and "must have Gmail." Those remain unchanged.

Oh who am I kidding, here's my list: The Girlfriend Experience.

It runs 30+ items long and I ended up having more criteria than the other people I made the list with. Also, my friend said that "there isn't a nit you[me] can't pick on someone." That statement has rung in my head for a couple of years and it both concerns and worries me. Redundant, I know. Do I always nitpick? Am I too choosy? My gut reflex is to say "no," because I'm a romantic. I mean, if I was such a nitpicker, why haven't I dated anybody who remotely looks like this list?

And by "romantic" I mean I lose all my sense when I'm into someone. Every negative is a positive, every positive is a one in a million trait. "Ugh, she's just so nice! You can't find that these days!"

Basically I'm an idiot.

Related but unrelated: "Friends of a Certain Age: Why Is It Hard to Make Friends Over 30?" The article kind of sucks but in it is a bit about a woman who "has even developed a playful 100-point scale (100 being best friend forever'). In her mind, she starts to dock new friend candidates as they begin to display annoying or disloyal behavior. Nine times out of 10, she said, her new friends end up from 30 to 60, or little more than an acquaintance."

Now that is someone after my own heart.

Speakerboxxx

Somehow, this week of low temperatures has coincided with me having to be out every day. Which is both good and bad. The good is that I'm racking up things I attended, the bad is that it's freezing. Like mid-teens freezing. The other day we took a cab 0.6 miles, from BAM Harvey Theater to my apartment. (Also: A new rule for me is that if it's after two o'clock, I cab it back from the city, mainly because $20 seems to be worth avoiding the cold and hooligans.)

For the record, the balcony at BAM is way up high and very steep. Going up the stairs will make you out of breath and looking down from the cheap seats will make you hold your breath. I was afraid to lean forward for fear of falling onto the stage. We saw The Suit, a short play about infidelity, and it had this really fantastic version of "Strange Fruit" that I wish I could have the recording to.

I don't know what it is about plays, but invariably I get tired about two-thirds of the way through. Like can't stop yawning tired. Even if they are really good and I'm enjoying them, something about not being able to move or fidget for a few hours is just draining. This was the case with both The Suit and The Future Is Not What It Was, an off off Broadway play put on by the Kindling Theater Company, whose mission is to provide resources for artists at the beginning of their careers.

TFINWIW featured some hilarious lines, even if it was a bit long. There was this one scene that will be forever burned into Amit and I's memory. It involved masturbating along to Janet's "What Have You Done For Me Lately." (The video features Paula Abdul as the friend, and she did the choreography!) Like wow. For that alone the play deserves high marks. Random references to Janet is always appreciated, especially in "is this really happening" situations.

The play also featured Maya Kazan, who is the younger sister of Zoe Kazan, writer and star of Ruby Sparks, a movie I was lightweight obsessed with last year. I was wondering if Zoe would be at the show, but as it turned out, she was not. However, her Ruby Sparks co-star and real life boyfriend, Paul Dano, was there and he sat a mere two seats to the right of us. I wondered what he thought of the cast and the play, the majority of whom were making their theater debuts. Did he feel like an NBA player watching a high school game?

The other events I braved the cold for was a Dwele / Anthony David concert and a Jose James concert. I'm not overly familiar with two of those three, but when in New York right? We saw Dwele over ten years ago, when he opened for Slum Village in San Diego. It was one of our first outings with Lilly and it marked the start of San Diego's heyday, when Sushi Deli Wednesdays were the thing. In the intervening time, Dwele has released five albums, garnered Grammy nominations and a win, and somehow acquired enough presence to appear on stage in a white jacket, bow tie, and purple shirt. You should have seen/heard the ladies screaming at him -- especially over his track "Obey," which he said was the audio equivalent of 50 Shades of Grey. You can listen and decide for yourself. Of the two, Anthony David was better live. David's one of those artists who sounds much better out of the studio. I quite like his track, "Can't Look Down."

Jose James' concert was packed wall to wall, he does a soul, jazz, and hip hop combo. It's a hard mix to pull off, but James gets it almost perfect, even if I found some of his vocal stuff one note. His voice is smooth as hell though, even if he's not quite as compelling as Maxwell or D'Angelo. And for my hip hop plus jazz money, I still prefer the Jazzmatazz series. But that's probably because I'm biased toward Guru.

During the encore, James brought out Taylor McFerrin, who, to no surprise, is an excellent beatboxer. When your dad is Bobby McFerrin, I guess that is your doom/destiny. Remember when Rahzel was like the hottest shit? Now a whole album featuring beatboxing just seems ridiculous. Taylor's debut album releases soon...

Sunday is a Madonna dance party, Monday is Tegan & Sara, Tuesday is Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella, and then I'm back to hibernation.

• Photos from Dwele / Anthony David at B.B. King
• Anthony David, "Can't Look Down"
• Dwele, "Obey"
• Slum Village featuring Dwele, "Tainted" (2002)
• Jose James performing "Trouble" on Conan (2012)
• No Beginning, No End album review
• Jose James covering "Ain't No Sunshine" (2012)
• NY Times The Suit review
• "Strange Fruit": The Story of a Song (2002)
• Billie Holiday, "Strange Fruit"
• The Future is Not What it Was review 1 | 2
• Janet Jackson, "What Have You Done For Me Lately" (1986)