OK GO

Having amped up my running schedule lately (I would say it’s to enjoy the great summer weather, but irony is soooo 1995), I’ve been wondering what makes a runner. More specifically, when do you call yourself a runner and why? Ple1der wrote an excellent post on the subject, where he states that it's not about the look, it's all about the attitude. Meaning if you push yourself when you're tired, or wake up at ungodly hours to get a run in before work, that makes you a runner. While parts of his argument sound a tad elitist, the fundamental reasoning that a runner is defined by perseverance and resilience, i.e. inner qualities, is one I whole-heartedly agree with. And overall one I tend to practice, or at least try to. Just last Monday I spent 20 minutes of my run (the classic lap around Hyde Park) under a battering rain, with visibility close to zero. And I loved every second of it. In fact I might prefer running under the rain than in sunny conditions, because it clears the roads and gives an extra incentive to go faster. At least I do for 2-3 months a year, as doing this in mid-Feb is a bit more gruesome.

Despite this at no point have I considered or called myself a runner. To me runners are the people who do highly-detailed training sessions (sprint for 400m, then slower for 2k, then fast again for 800m, etc...) and do things like wake up at 8am to go run 12 miles. What I like about running is that it's a very simple act, that generally feels like the most natural thing in the world. My running method is based on 1 rule: if I feel good I go faster, if I don't I go slower. I always try to go as fast as I can, but if I can't so be it. Also, since I did a lot of competitive-level sports in school, ever since I have been looking to sports mostly for pleasure and performance, not really to put a quantifiable result on my level. Which might explain why the upcoming Royal Parks half-marathon in October will be the first time I participate in a race in about 15 years. And even then, I mostly joined because a lot of people at work are doing it and it should be a fun and sociable event.

However I have recently bought the new Nike watch-usb thingy, which connects to your computer to upload your stats after you run, and I L O V E it. I have to admit that getting an immediate feedback on your performance during and after your run is pretty amazing. Not just the timer, because any fake Casio bought in Chinatown could've done the trick for that, but having the pace, calories, and especially the great Nike+ website where you see your updated stats as soon as you plug it it: instant gratification/disappointment. I do understand the point of competing against yourself more now and the thrill to see you've just beat a PR (that's runner-speak for personal record. See, I'm even talking like one now). I still enjoy the sport more as an aid toward a healthier lifestyle than as a primary hobby, but if I can inject a relative level of competition into it, why not. After all a lot of my best memories from childhood are linked to sports, and though my dreams of being an Olympic champion might be far behind, a little competing here and there can't hurt.

So while I might still have a pretty narrow definition of what a runner is and not consider myself one, I think it's interesting to see how this definition might be incredibly different from person to person, just like I encounter dozens of people of different age, fitness level and running style during my jaunts through the parks. It's what makes running the ultimate democratic sport, and shows that it will never go out of fashion.

Oh, and I almost forgot the important part: thanks to running I can get that "occasional" raspberry-cream glazed donut from the Krispy Kreme stand at Tesco, without a single degree of guilt. If that's not something worth sacrificing for, I don't know what is.

stay easy

after a tough but satisfying post-work run around Hyde Park, I turned my attention to the thumping sounds emanating from across the field. I'd noticed a week ago that they'd set up the usual fence for the annual 02 music fest, but wasn't sure when the actual gigs were. Walking around to chill out my muscles (I hate stretching like a fat kid hates broccoli), I realized the current concert was by none other than rap megastar Jay-Z, and that the open-air park setting pretty much meant I could enjoy the show as though I was part of the audience. Due to the usual boring reasons (read: work-related), I haven't been able to go to any shows since May, and having the opportunity to listen to one of my all-time favorite rappers was a definite and unexpected treat.
I plopped down on the grass for 10-15 minutes and was delighted to hear some of my favorite tracks, including 99 Problemz, a freestyle over the "Back to Black" instrumental, and a fantabulous rap over Lil' Wayne's "A Milli", renamed "A Billi" for the occasion (that Jiggaman, always with the one-ups).
The setting sun, fresh grass, post-run adrenaline and a pleasing soundtrack. Yeah, I think I kinda like it here.

Coldplay - Viva la whatever

Describing a new band's record as "just on the safe side of edgy" might sound more like a backhanded compliment than an actual endorsement, but when it comes to heirs to the U2-throne Coldplay, such a statement is actually a good one. Having achieved things in terms of commercial and critical success that 99% of their counterparts will never get close to, Coldplay could have played it either way: a decidedly pop-sounding effort, completely geared toward total radio domination, or a weird artsy release, in a bid to reclaim their future-Radiohead title of yore. Of course, either would not have been truthful to the ethos that has guided this band since their beginnings, which has seen them compose some of the most memorable pop songs (Yellow, The Scientist) of the past decade, while staying away from the saccharine excesses displayed in most radio hits. Coldplay have always been about honesty, but also about keeping it (somewhat) real.
Ever since word got out that their new album would be released this summer, anticipation has been sky-high, contrasting with the relatively low-key profile the band had managed to keep these past few years. At least as low-key as you can get when your singer is married to a Hollywood star. When details about the album started leaking out, most notably that U2 producer and ambient master Brian Eno would be producing their opus, even some of the more jaded members of the MP3 blogosphere took notice. Already the album is the most pre-ordered album in the history of the iTunes music store. And sales are sure to be astronomical when compared to the sad state of music sales in 2008 (down 10% this year according to an industry institute. Those damn kids and their Myspace!).

So what gives? Is the album a tepid retread of past success, kind of like many songs on previous effort X&Y were pretty much copy/paste versions of previous hit? Or is this the sound of a band going for fresh ideas, embarking on a groundbreaking journey where only few survive? The answer, as is hinted above, is a bit of both. While Eno's influence is unmistakable and very appreciable on some of the album's forays into sprawling epic (Death And All His Friends, with its quasi-electronic piano loops and ambient-y ending; Viva La Vida and its urgent pace that refuses to go up-down-up-down like all well-behaved pop songs should), there are a few duds that betray the band's still evolving musical bagage, where one gets the idea the guys still have some automatisms from their past they've got trouble shaking off (Violet Hill, Cemetaries Of London). Though not bad, these songs commit the ultimate sin of being kind of boring and not memorable. Yet there is enough material here for repeat listens of some of the highlights (DAAIF, Life In Technicolor, Viva La Vida) which are able to sound as though they would be as well-suited for an arena concert or a road trip to the coast on a warm September day.
With so much new music now available at one's fingertips, it is hard to pay attention to any album that sounds less than stellar over the first few listens. But music is not just an intellectual pursuit, it is also very much a common human experience, one that is shared with friends, family, coworkers and strangers. Coldplay seems to understand this, striving to compose songs that are sound different yet are immediately relateable. Time will tell whether their output will manage to stand the test of the years, but they at least deserve credit for not selling themselves or their audience short.

Official Myspace

a new world

The separation between the sexes in Saudi Arabia is so extreme that it is difficult to overstate. Saudi women may not drive, and they must wear black abayas and head coverings in public at all times. They are spirited around the city in cars with tinted windows, attend girls-only schools and university departments, and eat in special “family” sections of cafes and restaurants, which are carefully partitioned from the sections used by single male diners.

While this sort of statement is a familiar occurence in most media reports about Muslim countries, the current series in the New York Times, Generation Faithful, manages to explore the subjects facing the average youth in hyper-traditional Muslim countries with a relative level of subtetly. Examining things from the male point of view in one article, then spending time with their female counterparts in another, one gets a remarkable feeling of immersion in the environment of these young men and women. Though many anecdotes will boggle the mind of most Western readers, they are presented as facts, in order to give a sense of how conservative these young people's social environment is. While it's hard to believe how such conservatism manages to hold on, even when so little of it makes sense, at least the article let the reader make up their own minds about it, and eschews the proselytizing so common in these stories.

While the systemic violence against women is, appallingly, worse than most people might imagine, one does get a measured sense of hope through the fact that at least these youngsters seem more exposed to the outside world than previous generations. Here and there small but significant proofs of desire and expectations show up, as underlying signs of how universal much of what they are going through is. While that will not compensate the darker sides of these countries' social conservatism, it does give a face to these issues. And in the process, invites the reader to reflect on these problems not just in those countries, but in theirs as well.

lift your head

what, me worry?

Used to be, I figured my student-era trips through the Parc Monceau on my way to class were as good as commuting got, for now and ever. But I have to admit, a blissfully calm walk back from the office through Hyde Park, listening to Miles Davis work his magic on Concerto De Aranjez, might just take the proverbial cake. Goodbye stress, I hardly knew ye.

Osmosis Jonesin'

- brain: "hey, let's go for a run"
- heart: "um, not sure that's the greatest idea"
- feet: "yeah dude, that's the fourth day in a row. We're getting kinda sore down here"
- legs: "Are you kidding me? We're not 19 anymore, you dumbass"
- brain: "screw you guys, I'm in charge here"

45 mins later

- heart, feet, legs: "TOLD YOU SO!!!!!"
- brain: "...."

northern lights

10 reasons why Shout Out Louds are possibly the coolest band in the world:

1. they're Swedish
2. consistently play at London's hippest venues. Last year it was the Institute of Contemporary Art, and this past week they were at Bush Hall (where the overall vibe is prom night at Nijni Novgorod dance hall)
3. had several songs featured on the indie-tastic soundtrack of The OC
4. take on the synth-driven pop sound made famous by the Cure and manage to make it sound as fresh and modern as ever
5. sole-female bandmember Bebban Stenborg plays all sorts of instruments, from the accordion to the glockenspiel
6. 5 bandmates, 5 different hairdos
7. have a track on their new record called Meat Is Murder (even if it isn't a cover of the Smiths song)
8. always seem happy to be up on-stage, even after doing so much of it.
9. sell band logo-emblazoned tote bags for their eco-conscious fans to carry their groceries from Tesco
10. only make the audience wait for a couple of minutes before going back onstage for their encore

walk of life

it was an unseasonably warm spring day, the year 1996. I walked from my house, 5, maybe 10 minutes, over to the main road where the usual parade of cars was stopped for once, instead replaced by groups of friends, family, strangers, milling about in anticipation for a moment that, even for a small town like this one, does not come too often. By no means could this be considered a crowd or a throng, but still, seeing so many people out and about on this usually unremarkable piece of suburbia gave the whole thing a certain antiquated charm. This was the sort of scene you see in those Rockefeller paintings, or in the Dreyer's ice cream commercials.
After about half an hour of leisurely waiting, the first sign came upon us: the TV news choppers, not a frequent sight in this tranquil village, were buzzing not too far, and with them we started to hear a joyful cheer. Kids stopped playing along the sea docks, and strained their eyes up the road. By now the sides of the road were much more full, just like on the 4th of July parade with the fire trucks and parade of vintage cars. As the cheer got closer, the excitement spread, and enthusiastic shouts of "I See it!" could be heard. Only a few minutes more and there it was: the Olympic torch, on its way to Atlanta. Not at all imposing, but beautifully symbolic all the same. And just a few moments later, it was gone from our view, though the general good mood lasted long after. Just one moment in one small town, but hopefully there were many others like it that year, and for many more to come.

shortcuts - 06/04/08

listening: The Most Serene Republic. The Arts & Craft family (of BSS fame) strikes again

watching: That 70s Show, not the greatest comedy by any means, but it's always good for a laugh

buying: Uniqlo shoe-cut jeans

eating: plums, clementines - it's all about the fruits

reading: trying, and mostly failing, to read the Economist every week

the count is 0-0

on average there aren't that many good Mondays in a year, but today is one of those rare glorious ones. Indeed baseball's opening day is upon us, and with it the return of all that is good for us fans. Johan Santana's starting on the mound for my beloved Mets, and that's pretty much all that's gonna matter for the next few hours.

OK, let me run through the official Opening Day Success Check List:

Beer? Check.

KFC? Check (fast food on a Monday night, the recipe for success).

Blackberry off? Check.

Good times? Most definitely, check

parting shots

after spending 5 years in Paris as the bureau chief for the New York Times, Elaine Sciolino is about to move to a new post and last week filed her leaving piece, called A Guide to the French, about things she learned in the City of Lights. Even though she seems appreciative of her time there, the article doesn't exude too much warmth warm, toward the country or its inhabitants. From harping on France's obsession with history, to underscoring French women's evergreen sexiness, the list reads more like a jumble of slightly amusing observations than a true attempt at describing what makes the French so, well, French.
Where New Yorker correspondent Adam Gopnik had managed to make light of the tons of small annoyances one encounters when living in France in such a breezy and enjoyable way in his book Paris To The Moon, Mrs Sciolino sounds mostly like an outsider who never really figured out how to adapt to the charms and frustrations of this old country. It's far from bad, and she actually nails some of the details about life in France that generally take some time to understand (for instance the air-kiss thing, one of the big mysteries to Americans when they move to France), but there is unfortunately no sense that she understood the country beyond those details. Not to say it's an easy thing, in fact it's not one I'd necessarily try to describe myself even after spending nearly 10 years there, but if you're going to try, moving beyond the cliches might be a good start. Stating that no one says "bon appetit" before a meal make me wonder what type of French people she encountered during her stay. Methinks a lot of Varenne-St Germain-Montorgueil types and perhaps not too many of the 99.5% of those she's trying to describe. I might be incredibly dismissive here, but that's the feeling I got from reading her article.
In the end the reader's response to this piece will depend on their initial opinion of the French. Which means that publishing it will have had no positive impact whatsoever. And that, unfortunately, is fast becoming the norm when it comes to the traditional news media's cultural relevance.

random Monday nights are the best

gee, I wonder if they mean that in a good way

Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend

so, Vampire Weekend. What to say that hasn't been said 36 789 times in the past few weeks on music blogs around the world? Actually, it's pretty simple: this is fantastic music. Beyond the "new Strokes" labels being banded about, at the heart of their debut album is a desire to give it their all, to meld their influences (afro-beat and indie rock with a varnish of Ivy League preppiness) in a way that is neither overbearing nor self-indulgent, and to basically make music that is fun to listen to, yet rewarding after continuous listens. A lot of what's on this record has been heard in various forms before (Paul Simon's Graceland, Talk Talk), but the freshness and sheer exhbuberance of the songs makes worrying about the orginality of this work a moot point. What's most satisfying is that the songs on here bounce around, yet never have that sticky-candy attribute that many pop songs seem to acquire so fast.

In a year where winter has never really happened, it seems fitting that January would see the release of a great summer album. There are songs to drive to Hyannisport to, to reminisce about your college days and to wish for the weekend to last forever. And if the summer never really comes around (see: last year), what better way to tide us over to the next one than this pretty little gem of a album?

striking gold

dragging his body across the screen after falling into the oilpit he was digging Daniel Day Lewis has already done more in the first few minutes into the haunting There Will Be Blood to present a character than other actors will ever accomplish in their entire careers (made even more impressive by the fact he really fell and kept acting even though he had broken his ankle). And that's without uttering a single word. What follows is 2 1/2 hours of pure acting bravado, on a level that reminds us why we bother going to the movies in the first place. DDL is Daniel Plainview, a scheming, opportunistic, hard-working, evil and undeniably charismatic oilman building his fortune in early 20th Century California. Through his story emerges a portrait of American capitalism itself, in its relation to others, to nature, to religion.

What makes the movie so palpably exciting is the way director PT Anderson captures this energy with other tremendous actors (most notably Paul Dano as the flawed small-town pastor, and Dillon Frasier -in his film debut!- as Plainview's young son) to craft an enthralling tale of greed, dedication and family bonds. There is a lot of the great Stanley Kubrick in the restrained way in which the movie unfolds, and I'm not talking about Eyes Wide Shut-Kubrick. But at its heart, this movie is about what is, simply put, one of the great performances of all time. It might take a few years for Mr Day Lewis to make a new movie, as he has never been one to rush into projects, but when you create something this extraordinary, you're allowed all the time in the world. And one Oscar too, it goes without saying.

shortcuts - 17/02/08

listening: Vampire Weekend. Is it summer yet?

watching: The Bothersome Man, easily the best Norwegian black comedy I've ever seen

buying: vinyl rhymes with joyful

eating: gratin dauphinois, the perfect comfort food for these cold February nights

reading: Bill Bryson - I'm A Stranger Here Myself. Aren't we all Bill, aren't we all?

who goes out on Friday nights anymore?

When you've got back pains, a mosh pit is probably not the smartest place to hang out. Matter of fact, if you've got a backache, you're possibly too old to even be loitering there. But shortness of breath and achy spine aside, yesterday's Queens of the Stone Age show at the Hammersmith Appolo was a great reminder of how brilliant this band is on stage. They might sound a tad less "heavy" since bassist Nick Oliveri was fired from the band, but they still RAWK, no doubt about it, especially with Joey "the Hulk" Castillo manning the drum kit.

With that said, having today off from work was a most welcome respite from the corporate grind. As far as I'm concerned rock n roll might not be dead, but it does need a day to recover.

chug chug chug

so travel/hustle-blog gridskipper asked Brooklyn wunderkind Zach Condon from Beirut and his buddies from mp3 blog La Blogotheque to come up with a list of the best watering hole for indie types in Paris, which resulted in this interesting post. The thing is, all of the spots they came up with are located in the northeast corner of town. Which makes total sense considering it contains the hipper-than ever 11e, 19e and 20e, which is where I'm guessing most of those compadres live. To be fair, it is also what I would consider to be the epicenter of indie Paris these days, what with the great concert venues (le Nouveau Casino, la Maroquinerie), record shops (Ground Zero) and afore-mentioned bars. But since the list is supposed to be about the entire city, it would have been nice to branch out beyond the Bastille-Republique-Belleville triangle. For instance the rue Mouffetard area has a few interesting bars, including the decidedly-indie Shebeen. And not too far from that there are a few cool bars near St Michel with the kind of music and atmosphere that would not seem out of place in the backstreets of the 11e.

But hey, at least the list doesn't have le Truskel, le Pop-In or le Point Ephemere (who are like the Bloc Party of the Paris indie bar scene) on it, you gotta give credit for that. And really, if La Blogotheque really wants to keep things edgy and cool, they should try to come up with a list of taverns in the barren landscapes of the 14e-15e, now that would be an interesting read.

too close

although most of the media coverage on the death of Heath Ledger today has been yet another debilitating example of the sensationalization of news, I found Belinda Luscombe's article for Time magazine to be an interesting and nuanced homage to an immensely talented man. It evokes some of his personal issues while still staying away from the wild speculation seen today, which has become norm in today's gossip-led mainstream media. To be sure, plenty of other important things happened in the world today, but since this is a subject people are going to talk about, at least this piece gets the tone right. I didn't check my coworker's copy of the Sun, but I have a hunch their commentary was slightly less subtle.

southward-bound

planning a trip to Australia, as easy as

1

2

3

Okay, not quite, but it definitely is a great excuse to enjoy a delicious nutella crepe from Crepe Affaire. Although nowhere near as delicious as the ones made by the French guy at Exmouth Market (and certainly not in the same universe of deliciousness as the ones made by my mom). Something tells me a lot more trip planning sessions are going to be necessary before this thing gets off the ground...

"only in London" is the new "only in America"

today at work, while crossing paths with a coworker:

me (sorta-French guy, American accent): "hi mate"
him (British-educated Sri-Lankan): "what's up dude"

hip hip

Well it was bound to happen eventually: I've started up the (meager) vinyl collection again. Now I need to figure out how to get my stuff that's in Paris. And possibly get a turntable too, so I can, you know, listen to the records and stuff.

perfectly acceptable existential questioning

if I get asked "do you have a Boots card?" enough times, will I just break down and get one?

majestic

Sad news from New Zealand this morning, with the passing of Sir Edmund Hillary, one of the first two men (with sherpa Tenzing Nagay) to successfully climb Mount Everest. From all accounts he was a simple man who happened to do something extraordinary, and it is to his credit that he apparently never let that go to his head. A kiwi coworker was telling me today how revered he is over there, and a great source of pride for a country which, besides its tremendous rugby team, does not have a very visible international profile. His lifelong friendship with Nagay, modesty about his exploits, as well as his continued work for the communities living around the Nepalese Himalayas (helping build schools and other badly needed infrastructure through the Himalayan Trust), speak to the quality of a man who led a great and fulfilling life. The fact that he will be getting a State funeral seems highly fitting.

We live in a celebrity-obsessed culture, where most people seem more interested in Britney’s latest meltdown than in what’s going on in Pakistan, and in which so many celebrities are famous because they are famous, with nary an apparent skill to account for it besides being media-savvy. In this world a person like Sir Edmund Hillary is a definite throwback. Not to go all Ayn Rand (yeech), but hopefully stories like his can remind people of how greatness can be simple. The point is not to worship people, but to celebrate their actions, especially when they are so eloquent. Actions speak louder than words goes the saying, and no one was a better example of that than Sir Hillary.

NY Times article
The Guardian obituary

The Times Obituary

TIME profile on Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay

pick me! pick me!

while the US presidential elections are still months away, that hasn't stopped the media coverage from shooting into overdrive before the Iowa primary was even held. So far most of the articles have read as so: OBAMA WINS! OBAMA MANIA SWEEPS THE NATION! OBAMA TO BE NEXT US PRESIDENT! HILLARY WINS! HILLARY NOW FAVORITE! OH, WAIT, AND THAT OLD GUY, HE WON TOO!

And that's just in the foreign French and UK media I read. While I was sort of expecting it from the NY Times (whose coverage, it has to be noted, has been pretty stellar so far), it does tend to grate to read almost as much about it in Le Monde or The Guardian, often done in a very personal fashion, as though this directly concerns the audience. Last time I checked, French and British citizens don't vote for the US president. And while it's often a fascinating subject, especially in a country where the political system is so different (get ready for about 14 billion articles on that wild and wacky electoral college system come October, not to mention the voting machines) from ours, there are still plenty of other things going on in the world. Then again, if that means less articles and reports about Sarkozy and his women (ministers of otherwise), maybe it's for the best.

I get it, the United States are still a major superpower, and the last 8 years not having been the best (to say the least) for its stature, there is a sky-high attention to the results from the vote. But it still doesn't change the fact that whatever discourse and analysis is done throughout the world media, 99.9% of their audience will not get a say on Election Day. There's nothing wrong with being interested in this whole circus (I sure am doing my part in my daily readings), but a little added distance might not be so bad.

shortcuts - 08/01/08

listening: This Will Destroy You - S/T. I don't know what it is with Texas but they sure churn out some fantastic post-rock bands

watching: The OC season 1. Seth Cohen rules.

buying: Jinga trainers. Finally, Veja gets some competition.

eating: New Covent Garden Food's Thai chicken soup

reading: considering re-reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road, easily the best book I read last year, if not longer

what's next

side-note: Let's hope that BR gets it right where many of its US clothing store chains brethren haven't when opening outposts in the UK. Witness £90 shirts at Brooks Brothers, or £70 jeans at Abercrombie & Fitch: thanks but no thanks.

2007 - the year in movies

Despite living in a city where a movie ticket costs half a kidney (only half a kidney if you're a student), I tried this year to keep my movie-going as close to my Parisian habits as I could. I probably ended up seeing a bigger proportion of big-studio movies than usual, but did manage to keep things relatively eclectic enough to not suffer from popcorn-exhaustion.

10. Sunshine (directed by Danny Boyle)
A epic feat of meditative filmmaking - until the last 20 minutes, although admittedly the ending wasn't as bad the second time around. Another stellar (hey-O!) performance by Cillian Murphy

9. Michael Clayton (Tony Gilroy)
A throwback to the politically engaged flicks Hollywood used to churn out in the 70s, this had some of the strongest ensemble acting I saw this year. Even some of the overly self-conscious aspects, such as the ending shot, do not seem too grating thanks to the calm and assured way in which the movie unfolds

8.The Bourne Supremacy (Paul Greengrass)
Edge-of-your-seat action, from start to finish. And not a single CGI shot, hurray

7. La Mome (Olivier Dahan)
Edith Piaf's story might seem too tragic, even as far as musician biopics go, yet Marion Cotillard's ballsy performance never lets this fall into MOW territory

6. I Am Legend (Francis Lawrence)
Fantastic acting by Will Smith to go along with a decent script, and some directing choices that seem bold when compared to the average blockbuster (no music during the suspenseful scenes? Yes please)

5. A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints (Dito Montiel)
Directed by first-timer Montiel, based on his book relating his childhood in the Bronx during the 80s. It all sounds self-referential, but a tremendous young cast (Shia LaBeouf and Channing Tatum in particular) and some interestingly varied directing make for a mesmerizing trip down memory lane

4.The Assassination of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford (Andrew Dominik)
Possibly the most beautifully-shot movie this year, the story of Jesse James' assassin unfolds ever so slowly, yet captivates throughout. Casey Affleck eclipses Brad Pitt, even though he's far from a slouch himself

3. Paranoid Park (Gus Van Sant)
Actually this might be the best-shot flick this year, thank to visual genius Christopher Doyle (he of the many Wong Kar Wai collaborations). GVS finishes up his teenagers-in-peril trilogy in style

2. The Darjeeling Limited (Wes Anderson)
I've always felt Wes Anderson's movies were quirky for the sake of being quirky, but with this tale of three brothers going on a train-trip through India, everything came together for me. Epic, touching, funny and never boring

1. We Own The Night (James Gray)
People have been hailing this as a neo-classical gem, a descendant of the kinds of movies Scorcese and De Palma used to make in their heighday. People are right, and when you consider that Gray has only made three movies in 13 years, something doesn't seem right. This deserves The Departed-level hoopla and awards, now.

2007 - the year in music

After a terrific start to the year with some fantastic releases from the likes of The Shins, Bloc Party and The Arcade Fire, some observers (ahem) were noting that 2007 could end up being a banner year, at least for rock. In the end it didn't quite reach that status, but overall most year-end top ten lists were still among the most quality-laden of recent years.
So without further ado, here are my top 20 albums for 2007:

20. Bloc Party - A Weekend In The City
19. Ryan Adams - Easy Tiger
18. Patrick Watson - Close To Paradise
17. The Shins - Wincing the Night Away
16. Band of Horses - Cease To Begin
15. Modest Mouse - We Were Dead Before The Boat Even Sank
14. Kevin Drew - Spirit If...
13. Holy Fuck - LP
12. LCD Soundsystem - Sound of Silver
11. Radiohead - In Rainbows

10. Justice - Cross

Initially I was gonna put Holy Fuck's debut album here, but after listening to Justice's again over the holiday, and recalling their sweatily fantastic gig at Koko, I had no choice but to include the guys from le Tryptique in my top 10. Thanks to them and Daft Punk's summer tour, electro is back in the mainstream, and everyone seems to be having fun.

9. Kanye West - Graduation

The biggest ego in hip-hop (if not the universe) decides to step beyond his patented production style, and comes out with one of the most refreshing albums in years, in a genre that sorely needs it.

8. Bright Eyes - Cassagada

Conor Oberst is a man of many talents, who never seems to stay too long in a single direction. For this one he played up to his strengths, though, coming up with a very solid collection of folk-rock and soul influenced tracks that confirm how close he is to his much-noted Springsteen heritage.

7. The National - Boxer

With the so-called rock revival in the past 5 years, much has been made of the influence of 80s bands like The Cure and Joy Division. And not many bands have managed to reuse the influence of JD like these guys, while still maintaining a modern and fresh-sounding outlook

6. Jeremy Larson - Jeremy Larson
Great songs and a fresh sound from this promising new talent

5. The Arcade Fire - Neon Bible

Did they manage to top the brilliance of their debut Funeral? Tough to say, but sophomore slump this was definitely not

4. Explosions In The Sky - All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone
It's amazing how much the best post-rock bands manage to express, without uttering a single word

3. Ola Podrida - Ola Podrida

Let's be honest, there was no way I was going to be able to resist the debut album from the guy who scored David Gordon Green's All The Real Girls. Very delicate, but never boring, he deserves to be heard by a lot more people. Quick, somebody get one of his songs on an episode of Grey's Anatomy

2. Loney, Dear - Loney, Noir

2007 was the year when everything seemed to go right for Loney, Dear's Emil Svanangen, and he didn't even need to have his music in an ad for a television to do so

1. Eluvium - Copia

Ambient can be a tricky genre to make a mark in, as so much of it lies in slow progressions. But Eluvium's Matthew Cooper manages to stay within the confines of the style while coming up with fantastically beautiful and heartbreaking sonic landscapes. If Terrence Malick ever makes a sci-fi movie, we've got the ideal composer right here.

best songs:
The Arcade Fire - (Antichrist Television Blues)
Band Of Horses - Marry Song
Andrew Bird - Scythian Empires

Boys Noize - &Down
Bright Eyes - No One Would Riot For Less

Eluvium - Ostinato
Explosiong In The Sky - It's Natural To Be Afraid
Feist - 1234
fennesz+sakamoto - haru
Jeremy Larson - More Than You
Justice - Phantom pt. II
Kanye West - Flashing Lights
Kevin Drew - Tbtf
Kings Of Leon - Knocked Up
LCD Soundsystem - All My Friends
Lil' Wayne - Ride For My N***

Los Camposinos - You! Me! Dancing!
Loney, Dear - Saturday Waits
Lovedrug - Everything Starts Where It Ends
Modest Mouse - Missed The Boat
The National - Fake Empire
Ola Podrida - The New Science
Paramore - When It Rains
Phosphorescent - Cocaine Lights
Radiohead - Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
Rogue Wave - Chicago X12
Sea Wolf - I Made A Resolution
The Shins - Sleeping Lessons
Stars - The Night Starts Here
Valerie Leulliot - Caldeira

happy feet

It's true what they say: a party is always better when JB's around. And if they're not saying it, well they really should.

Playing catch-up: Havergal-Electricita

Operating within the so-called trend of glitch, Havergal released one of the more interesting offerings of the genre in 2004 with their second album Elettricita. Fusing traditional indie pop songwriting with decidedly electro aesthetics, the album was part of a wave of slickly- produced pop that illustrated the undeniable influence of electro on this music style. Three years later, dozens of magazines and music blogs have picked LCD Soundsystem's Sound of Silver as their album of the year, and no one is discussing whether it's pop, electro, both, or something else.

Like a (much more) laid-back Tom Vek, one-man-band Ryan Murphy builds groovy tracks out of nothing, always letting the songs progress naturally, without trying to force them down the listener's ear. Witness Drowned Men, which starts off with overlapping guitars and subtle sound effects, then introduces a hypnotic piano riff and other varied synth layers . When the subdued beat casually drops more than 3 minutes in, you're already tapping your toes and nodding your head, willing for the beat to start, like an acoustic version to a fantastic Soulwax remix. But this album is actually much more quiet than the pulsating rythms on the first two tracks might have one believe, and exhibits a pronounced post-rock influence, with many languid tracks that feature Murphy's contemplative side (Lamafrequency, Slugs In The Sun).

One of the most particular aspects of the records is that the singing is often slowed down to a clipped drawl in tune with the beats. This could make the resulting songs sound robotic, but one-man-band Ryan Murphy has an intriguing up-and-down voice that highlights his emotions and thus, his humanity. Likewise the tracks are mostly filled with loops and feature electronic beats, but by using acoustic instruments the songs never feel programmed. Indeed many of them use the traditional intro-verse-chorus-verse structure like the most classic of pop songs. A lot of the melodies heard on these songs are simple, but the way the organic and the electronic are melded together creates an impressive work that stays with you long after the music has stopped playing.

pipe dreams

if I had a proper Internet connection I would:

- be able to stay online for more than 20 minutes
- do all sorts of productive things, like updating my facebook picture and watching basketball games
- blog about fascinating stuff, such as that time I did homemade soup (chunky but yummy), or when I bought my first tuxedo (scratchy)
- start planning for my trip next summer. Looking at opodo.co.uk at work is so cliche

And did I mention I don't have a TV at my place? It's starting to feel like casa de Ludd over here. So do I miss having a normal Internet connection? Nah, not really

no chill pills necessary

30 seconds of live action from the petanque playground in Gruissan, southwest France

W1's best kept secrets

when it comes to central London, Mayfair isn't the most enthralling of areas. Overrun with tourists and assorted daytrippers traipsing up and down Oxford Street (and its slightly more upscale brethren, Regent Street), working here sometimes reminds me of the summer I worked at Eurodisney. Come to think of it I probably get asked "do you know where the toilets are" by tourists about as many times as back then. Yet spend enough time in the area and you begin to discover its quirks and idiosincrasies, just like the most colloquial of neighborhoods. Shoreditch this ain't, but at least they make the place seem more personal and, dare I say it, a bit pleasant.

the lower-ground floor at Selfridges:

At first I would look down at this floor when going up the escalator to the men's section and see people having lunch, or a display of cristal carafes and china sets, and think nothing of it. But venturing down one day on the recommendation of a coworker, I realized that this is in fact a tremendous emporium-like floor, where one could find not only the afore-mentioned carafes, but a fairly decent hardware and kitchen section, bags, a library, electronics, and most importantly, an HMV! No more wandering down to the overcrowded Bond Street store when I need to pick something up during a lunchbreak. Selfridges might be all about luxury goods and elitist consumption, but if all you need to buy is a couple of nails and an adapter plug, you can get that too.

Lancashire Court:

a stone's throw away from New Bond St, Lancashire Court is the ideal place to get a couple of after-work (or shopping) drinks and relax from the hustle and bustle of the area. Although service is typical of fancy establishments, aka not very good and sometimes downright snotty, the overall mood is laid-back, and the crowd mixed yet quite British compared to Eurocentric Soho. At the front of this small courtyard there's Hush, a bar/restaurant with a terrace that is well worth a try in the warmer months (some people call that summer, I'm still waiting on the evidence that such a season exists here). Then there is a narrow alleyway that separates 2-3 bars which quickly becomes cramped up during the happy hour rush. But the mojitos and Long Islands are pretty tasty, not that expensive and that, in my opinion, is reason enough for me to patronize the place.

the secret tennis court at :
what, you didn't think I was going to give away all my secrets, did you? Well-hidden to the unfamiliar eye, this haven for tennis aficionados is open to private members, yet is so unknown that nearly no one plays there. In fact, when a coworker and I got our membership we found out the were the 12th members, which might explain why last week we were able to book at court for 1pm at 12:59pm, even though it was sunny and fairly warm out. Located less than 100m from our office, this is the perfect antidote to boring gym sessions.

Grosvenor Square:

When you're just looking to sit down in the grass and enjoy a leisurely talk, it's better to keep it simple. Grosvernor Sq is definitely smaller than Hyde Park, way smaller even, but it feels quieter, with a very posh vibe befitting its West End location, which makes it perfect to just lay down, close your eyes, and forget where you are.

shortcuts - 22/11/07

listening:Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, his stuff is pretty good isn't it?

watching: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia might be the funniest show on television since Seinfeld. Charlie Reilly for president.

buying: a few basics from the new Uniqlo store on Oxford Street, with its wall of cashmere sweaters.

eating: Thai food, always and forever.

reading: still stuck on Crime and Punishment. Here's hoping next week's 1h+ plane ride will help with that, although not if the iphone has its way...

attack of the spiteful playwrights

perhaps feeling miffed by the spectacularly bad reviews garnered by his recent screenwriting effort on the Jude Law/Michael Caine thriller Sleuth, Harold Pinter had the following to say about action blockbuster The Bourne Ultimatum and its namesake character:

"I saw a film, The Bourne Ultimatum," Pinter begins, "and I thought: Fucking hell! This guy is clearly the strongest man in the world. He can beat up about 12 people in about 35 seconds and kill half of them.

"The whole thing is totally unreal. I was stupefied by it, it was so lacking in intelligence." He adds that he sat in the cinema "seething, thinking: What am I doing here, being bombarded by this sound? It knocks you out."

Harold my dear, I know you're pretty well respected and all, what with your Nobel Prize, your prestigious plays and your pauses (hey look, a quasi-alliteration, I'm sure you love that!), but this is just silly. If this is the worst example of mindless moviemaking you can find, then I'm wagering that you don't venture out to the multiplex too often, and thus lack the proper perspective to judge the current crop of flicks put out by Hollywood.
Now myself, I go to the movies pretty often. Not as much as when I lived in Paris, but still enough to know how ridiculous this statement of yours is. See, what you didn't realize when you saw this quite-terrific movie, is that you were actually viewing a quite nuanced and smart(ish) work, one in which the hero isn't on the typical "rah-rah I will save the world" mission, but simply a man trying to right a wrong done to him, moral considerations be damned. You want a really stupid action movie, try Die Hard 4. I'm sorry, Die Hard 4.0. In it you'll see a hero take down a hovering helicopter with a police car, 40 feet off the ground. And there's also an episode between a supersonic jet and an eighteen wheeler, but I'll admit to you that the details of that remain fuzzy, I'd need to see it again (or not). Or go see recent vampire flick 30 Days of Night, about a gang of vampire seeking to kill all inhabitants from a small Alaskan town. Yep, I saw that one too, and even enjoyed parts of it, at least those when the 13 year-olds four rows back weren't gabbing loudly on their cell-phones.
You see the whole reason these movies exist is that, more and more, people are looking to escape. Modern life throws a lot of information at you, all the time, and going to see an action flick is now one of the rare moments when you can not think about that for a couple of hours, and just enjoy the moment. I agree, that doesn't mean those movies should abandon all semblance of realism and decent writing. And this is where that Bourne movie, and its two predecessors, come in. It's not an intelligent movie, by any means, but at least it's not trying to outdumb itself every passing second. It has great action scenes that feel more real than 99% of the other offerings in the genre, a story that actually progresses quite organically, and even decent acting. Unfortunately in today's cinematographic wasteland, that makes it a rarity. And if you still don't believe me, just watch Transformers. Then you'll know.

P.S.: okay I'll admit it, 30 Days of Night sucked

ambrosialism

Not that I'm a curmudgeon or anything, but I've never really adhered to the cult of cute that has become a major trend on the Internet in recent years (warning: link may contain pictures of baby chipmunks). With that said, when I bought a smoothie from Sainsbury's last Friday morning to ease myself into the start of my workday, I was instantly smitten:

The reason for this fetching sight is that juice and smoothie brand innocent has put little wool hats on all of their products sold at Sainsbury's to benefit the Age Concern charity, as part of their Big Knit campaign. It aims to help older people cope with the cold winter months, and with each sale of a hat-wearing drink, innocent and Sainsbury's will donate 50 pence to the cause. Now there's a fantastic reason to get behind the cute movement.

read more about it here

line of duty

even more surprising than horses clopping along on Oxford Street, this morning I came across this most random of sights:

Through exactly which circumstances could this seemingly-authentic NYC police car (with Empire State license plates no less) have ended up parked on tony Porchester Terrace? Maybe a newly-retired (and wealthy) member of NY's finest who decided to move to London couldn't bare losing his favorite vehicle. Or perhaps it belongs to a particularly enthusiastic collector of Die Hard 3 memorabilia. The car was still there in the evening, so it would seem like its (necessarily awesome) owner lives in the area. Heck, he probably went to work in his ambulance that day and this car is just his weekend impress-the-girls ride.

this year's model

out with the old:


in with the new:

Released in the UK to the usual Apple hullabaloo last Friday, the iPhone is that rarest of convergence devices: one that actually delivers multiple functions without overwhelming its user with unnecessary bells and whistles, while still looking good. Which is all I'll say about it for now. I'm still getting used to it, though I'm already at a point where I wonder how I could have functioned so long without it. As in, before this thing, what did I do when I was preparing dinner? Certainly not listen to Ryan Adams while reading a LA Times article, that's for sure. Which isn't the most necessary of things, granted, but as far as entertainment goes, it's pretty nifty.
Full(er) review to come.

just breathe

shortcuts - 29/10/07

listening: the band you can't tell your grandma about, Holy Fuck

watching: season 1 of the Hills. It's even worse than I remember. Which means, of course, that I'm loving it to death.

buying: a coat (H&M) and a jacket (Uniqlo) to gear up for the winter. So naturally today the weather started heating up. Come on cold, you can do better than that! (I kid, you can keep hiding for a while. I'll definitely see enough of you over the next few months)

eating: homemade raita salad at work. Take that, EAT.

reading: Crime and Punishment. It's a beast of a novel when you only have about 5 minutes a day to devote to it, but highly worth it.

Jeremy Larson - Jeremy Larson

no, this post title isn't some sort of facetious tribute to John Malkovich, it's actually the title of sound advice alumnus Jeremy Larson's debut album, released to little fanfare last month. The pride of Springfield, MO, he has taken the modern pop sound that had been introduced on a couple of EPs last year to an even more ambitious brand of pop with hints of electronics and classical music. In a genre that has seen its share of repetitiveness and lack of innovation over the years (Keane and Coldplay: I used to kinda like you guys, what happened??), this album feels like a harbinger of very good things to come. It's far from perfect, but it succeeds where so many fail by being fresh and assertive.

Most of the songs are piano-based, yet there is as much emphasis on the additional layers to give it a very modern sound. For sure, this is no electronic music, but there is a clear influence by the laptop-pop scene that has developed recently (DNTEL, The Album Leaf...). As a result many of the tracks create a mood that can feel cold and aloof, but also yearning for warmth. Consequently a lot of the material is about alienating distance and loneliness (Make Believe), but, equally importantly, about not giving up (Swim).
Yes, the music on this record is pretty, but thankfully on songs life More Than You or The Sound Of Snow Larson exhibits a modicum of desperation that is so often lacking in the genre. When you notice how innocuous the subject of love has become in mainstream pop songs, that is refreshing to hear.

Naturally not all is perfect on here, there are still a couple of skippers that, though not bad, aren't particularly memorable either (A Neutral Conclusion, Martyr). But consistency can always come later, what we have here right now is an artist unafraid to take chances to try to come up with an original take on a tired cliche, and that is most definitely a good thing.

listen to songs from the album here

silver lining

no doubt about it, London is an expensive city. Not only do the basic essentials (rent, food, CDs) add up to an arm and a leg here, but indulging in any sort of hobbies generally tends to drive up one's budget to Himalayan heights. This past summer I enjoyed a great recital of Le Corsaire by the Bolshoi ballet, something which I felt very fortunate and delighted to see. Still, the seats cost £90 each, and they were in the upper ranges of the theater, so you can imagine what some decent spots would run you. And how unappreciative you might feel should you witness a less-than-stellar performance. Same goes for pretty much all forms of entertainment in this town, from theater to rugby matches.

But naturally that is the gloomy view of things, one that only the most cantankerous of Londoners would espouse after living here for a while. Because although the options for free/cheap entertainment might seem less comparatively to a city like Paris, there are nonetheless bounds of them for the motivated individuals to partake in. Take movies for instance. At first sight it might seem difficult for movie buffs to keep a regular habit of catching screenings regularly, what with 1 adult ticket in a typical London cinema costing the equivalent of an unlimited movie pass in Paris. But while that might be true in most movie theaters, there are some ways to catch more screenings without breaking the bank, from Cineworld's monthly pass to the BFI Mediatheque, as well as screenings at the ICA. Among these outfits, one has emerged as the go-to place to go see movies from mega-blockbusters to artsier fare while on a budget, a mere few weeks after their general release: Prince Charles cinema. Located a few short hops from cinematic mecca Leicester Square, it provides a wide-range of movies in all genres, special screenings with Q&A sessions, as well as their famous Sound of Music singalong. The prices are on the right side of affordable, going for a maximum of £4.50 for general screenings, while members pay from £1.50 to £3. More importantly, the selection of flicks is top-notch, with recent blockbusters cohabiting with smaller movies. It's thanks to this varied slate that I was able to catch New-Zealand indie rom-com, Eagle vs Shark, this past Sunday. The movie is touching and hilarious, and it was a real treat to be able to watch it with a large audience.
When it comes to cinemas London might never equal Paris, or even New-York, but it's nice to know that there are decent options out there not part of the major chain behemoths. Now if only the Prince Charles would install cup holders in their seats...

pret-less

forecast for tomorrow's lunch break: deeelicious (I hope)

had a nice time

Dedicated to the fortress of suckitude that is Heathrow Airport. My dear, dear Gatwick, you were sorely missed. I promise not to be unfaithful anymore in the future (if I can, you know how these things work. It's not you, it's me).

free music

is there anymore space on the Radiohead bandwagon? Because I've been off it for a while, actually I've never really been a full-fledged passenger, but it seems like I'm gonna have to climb back on again.

seriously, this is pretty amazing. More coherent thoughts later. Maybe.

mercy mercy

at Burberry, less is definitely not more. All I bought was one tie, and they put it in an elaborate package inside a bag fit to hold Imelda Marcos' shoes collection. Oh, and a ribbon? Really?

The receipt was put in its own not-so-little portfolio, maybe so it feels it's worth more than the paper it's printed on? And so we can kill a few more trees, just for the heck of it I suppose.

pinched

Horace Greeley, this is for you

fashion fauxrward

5 crucial reasons why not wearing a belt with your suit pants is a tremendous idea:
- saves time at the metal detector, letting the x-ray machine people focus on the really important stuff, like reminding the people in front of you for the 127th time that day that you have to take your keys and change out of your pockets before passing through. If you wear a belt, the terrorists have won
- 2.1 seconds more sleep time in the morning
- it's a proven scientific fact: when you work, your belly gets hungry and lets you know about it. A belt is just a cruel reminder of the vicious constraints of society. Just let it be, man
- demonstrates your staunch refusal of corporal punishment
- gives you an assured look even if you're doing it out of complete laziness (not me of course, I would never do that)

MC Hammer so hates this post

youtubin: blackass

meet the anti-Jackass, as played by comedy genius and Youtube legend Tracy Morgan in this sketch from Saturday Night Live. And watch for his reaction at the pool.

shameless

on the guilty-pleasure-o-meter, MTV's sorta-reality show "The Hills" has got to rank a very strong 9 banana splits out ot 10. A sequel of sorts to the drama-tastic Laguna Beach, The Hills follows Laguna Beach alum Lauren Conrad as she starts her life in the Los Angeles fashion world, as a FIDM student and intern at Teen Vogue magazine. But LC's fledgling career is merely a pretense to follow her love-life and friendship, with plotlines worthy of the best Beverly Hills, 90210 episodes.
The main ongoing story concerns LC's relationship with her former best friend Heidi, who has now become her nemesis, mostly because Lauren can't stand her boyfriend (now fiance) Spencer. Which isn't surprising considering the guy is pretty much the mayor of Weaselville and has been trying to figure out a way to get Heidi to ditch Lauren ever since meeting her. This has led to some momentous scenes worthy of the most intense Gaza Strip standoffs, including Lauren's memorable observation about her friend's beau that "he's a sucky person. He's a sucky person". The use of this adjective to describe Spencer is so brilliant I have literally nothing to add to it, other than that once you hear it, there is absolutely no way you will not eventually use it in some sentence or another.
There's also Lauren's on-off boyfriend Jason, with whom things invariably ends in tears, generally for no particular reason to the outside eye. Yes, he does seem a bit more distant than usual and, yes, a tad douchy at times, but overall it seems like the breakup happens because the drama is just meant to be. The fact that he's almost the most redeemable male on the show says a lot about the type of people encountered. My favorite is Justin, also known as Justin-Bobby (why? he just wants his friends to call him that. I wish I were making this up), Audrina's (Lauren's roommate) ex-future-whatever boyfriend. Even in the sea of clueless guys the girls encounters, he stands out by his amazingly casual behavior. And I don't mean casual in a good way. From wearing combat boots to a beach party to talking about his other girl to Audrina during a date, this guy is the king of uncomfortable random. Which is to say that every scene he is in manages to heighten the already deliciously-high unintentional comedy factor by at least 250%.
Confirming popular stereotypes about young Hollywood, most of the people on the show are as attractive on the outside as they are unappealing from the inside, and in the end what you see on the screen manages to reach a point of superficial ridiculousness that you can't help but watch. As the trekkies say, resistance is futile.

As a guy in my late 20s, I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to be the target audience for this sort of stuff, but I'll be damned if I've missed a single episode of the show's 3 seasons. And unlike other candidates to the guilty pleasure tag like, say Desperate Housewives or The OC, this one only requires you to switch off your brain for 20 short minutes. More than that would be unbearable but as it is, it makes this highly recommended viewing. Or not. But either way it behooves us to realize that this is Lauren Conrad's (and MTV's) world, and we're just living in it.

youtubin: let's get hyphy

you know what? When I grow up, I want to be a hip-hop dancing professional sports mascot.

faster, faster

with my work schedule still in full madness-mode (one week to go!), I did manage to find myself a new flatshare last week. My lease was due to end on the 24th (today), and though I barely had time to look at places, I felt it was time for me to find accomodations a little bigger and possibly closer to my workplace. Thanks to the magic that is gumtree, I found such a place pretty easily: went to see it on Wednesday afternoon, said I liked it, and when I called back Thursday morning, the room was mine. The rest was straightforward as well: 2-3 tube return trips to move my stuff, a transfer of the deposit+1 month's rent via internet banking and presto, I'd changed flats.
One of the greatest things about the new place so far is that I can walk to work. Or at least will be able to when there isn't a mini-typhoon lashing out at London like this morning. Walked just 3 minutes to the bus stop and my feet were still wet 6 hours later. And that's after changing socks, and letting my shoes dry with newspaper stuffed in them (grandma-tip style).

One thing for sure is that, compared to Paris, looking for a place to live here is very very easy. No need to give landlords a file with ridiculous amounts of information, not to mention guarantees from your parents. Here you pay a deposit (generally 4 weeks' rent), the first month of rent and you're good. Now this situation is linked to the fact you can get expelled pretty fast if you fail to pay rent, compared to France where multiple laws protect renters, which leads many landlords to stay away from anyone who doesn't have the ideal profile. And with so many people (including more and more foreigners) wanting to live in Paris, it isn't hard for them to cherry-pick. Not to say London is heaven when it comes to renting an apartment, far from it, but at least when it comes to moving in/out, it doesn't feel like you're going through an adoption process.

droning on

warning: this post is about as rock n'roll as an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond

these days my schedule has started to get a bit blurry: weekdays turn into weekends which are workdays, after which I go out like it's the weekend. Things are busy at the office (which will only increase as the month goes along), yet there are still things I want to do after spending 12 hours staring at three computer screens, so evenings chilling at home have not been part of the agenda recently. I'm not partying like an art school student or anything, but I keep finding things that keep me out of la casa, even if it's just a run in Hyde Park after work. I think tomorrow I will go home straight from the office, but I can't be certain seeing how things have gone.

This has me thinking that out of the many concepts branded about in the modern corporate environment, that of work-life balance rings particularly hollow. Early in one's career, spending long hours at the office is almost a pre-requisite to move up the proverbial ladder. In that sense, the notion of balance does not really exist. Work takes up most of your time, energy, and motivation. Of course in return you get plenty back, from increased self-confidence, financial willpower, and if you're lucky a decent social environment. But in order not to feel too drained, it's essential to be able to maximize one's rest/leisure time. In my case I've found concerts to be one of the better ways to forget about everything for an hour or so, without staying out too late. Two weeks ago I had an absolute blast at the Justice gig, with a tremendous Rex club-like atmosphere, yet I was home by 12:30. The previous night I had seen an amazing concert by Broken Social Scene, one of my all-time favorite bands, and was safely home by eleven.

The trick in those busy times is to keep things bordering on predictibability without feeling like you're living a real-life Groundhog Day. Although who knows, being able to punch that guy Ned every once in a while might turn out to be a good stress-reliever.

emergency office weekend survival kit

one big holiday

Q: what's better than a 3-day weekend?
A: a 4-day weekend!

Tomorrow is the first of my 3 August mini-trips, with a 4 day jaunt to the -mostly- sunny shores of Brittany. Eating, sleeping, reading, swimming, laughing, sleeping: sounds like a decent agenda to me.

lead me to your door

as one of the most diverse cities in the world, it is hard not to feel at home very quickly in London. But feeling like a Londoner can take more time, if only because when moving here (or anywhere else) you still carry over the instincts and behaviorism you've picked up in previous homes.

For me the first time feeling like one happened not too long ago while, quite fittingly, riding the bus. A couple of French 20-somethings here for the weekend were talking with their friend who apparently lived here or something, and they got to discussing the weather, remarking how horrid it was. The bus passed the James Smith store and the guy make an innocuous joke about how that store would never go out of business considering said crappy weather. And even though it is probably exactly the sort of remark I would make, my first thought when I heard this was how so not better Paris (which is where they were from) weather was and that their miffed criticism was a bit annoying. So in effect I got sort of defensive, which is a common reaction when you feel a sense of belonging somewhere. It's not very rational, after all talking about the weather for 5 minutes is something you'd do with perfect strangers here, so for friends to do so seems totally normal. But in that context this small moment kind of served as a personal realization that I do consider London to be more than just where I live - it's also my home now.

the night starts here

Tuesday morning I'm feeling good, it's quite sunny out, for once not too chilly, and I decide to go for a run during lunch. Though not yet a runaholic like some people at the J.O., I've managed a decent time last week and it's got me wanting to get back into regular running. I even start thinking about the London marathon while on the tube (NB: i have never run a marathon, or even an official race since my glorious participation in the Hong Kong French middle-school olympics) and start scheming about how to deal with the hordes of groupies that will soon pave the way of my training runs.
Typically busy morning, I really should stay at the office during my lunch break but it's too nice out to resist, so I go for a run with a friend from work. We start kinda slow then I push a little bit, manage to beat my time from last week, and also push my buddy to beat his, although 2 minutes behind (hey I never said I wasn't competitive). Back to the gym to change, I'm barely out of the shower when I get a message asking if I'd go for a run that evening. Can't refuse, so I text back to accept, even adding an exclamation point to my answer to show my eagerness, which is a technique I believe I learned from Shakespeare. I know that getting pasta salad for lunch isn't an option at this point, so I oblige.
After an even busier afternoon, run number 2 does not sound like the most inviting of activities. But actually it goes fine, my running partner is in a similar state of mind to mine, so we shuffle along. Hyde Park can be really gorgeous in these conditions, I even forget I'm tired by this point.
I am due at a work social for a friend who's leaving the company, and manage to get there at 9:15pm, also known as 3 hours after everyone else. By this point a few people are hunched around a table waiting for food, the rest near the bar just having drinks. Of course I make the sensible choice and opt for staying with the stand-up crowd (zing!), despite my belly's protestations. Some drinks are had, conversations partaken, a general enjoyable night out, prolonged with the inevitable last mojito at a hotel bar (why do bars close so early in this city again?). At 1:30am I stumble somewhat into bed, a bit dizzy but my pillow seems like the softest pillow in the world and I promptly pass out.
1:32am: bzzzzzz. I get a text, then a call from the friend we were feting that night. She thinks someone has been in her apartment (door was open, lights on, etc...). I somehow dress up normally, get a cab to her place, and make my best to reassure her. Considering my state of tiredness, I am pretty sure I would've dozed through any break-in during the night. In fact I am pretty sure I ask her where I can sleep within 40 seconds of my arrival. Who says chivalry's dead?
Work today feels kinda bad, to say the least. Unshaven, with mostly the same clothes as the previous day (which is where the extra tie in my desk comes in handy), with mental reflexes far from sharp, I slowly realize that this is going to be the busiest day of the month, as first days generally are. Hooray for red bull!
All this to say: I am going to bed now. Attention would-be burglars: if you could leave my friend's flat alone (and mine while you're at it) it'd be much appreciated. And to all other, as a great man used to say: good night, and good luck