In less than a day, Obi-Wan Kenobi (Disney Plus) will hit our TV screens. The next few hours are going to seem interminable for those who have been waiting for years for Obi-Wan Kenobi’s story to be told.
To make the wait a bit easier to bear, here’s the official recap trailer:
Obi-Wan is coming!
The clip shows scenes from Episode IV (A New Hope), when an older Obi-Wan (locally known as Old Ben) was still played by Sir Alec Guinness, then loops back to the prequel films (Episodes I-III). As the whole world knows, Obi-Wan is played by Ewan McGregor from his padawan days to his current nomadic life in the desert planet of Tatooine, looking appropriately careworn and weary.
The first installment will consist of two episodes and will likely last an hour.
Although she has visited a lot of new places (both local and abroad), my sister is not really the type to wax poetic about them. But when her attention is fully engaged, she likes to snap pictures from various angles, and then mark them with distinctive and sometimes hard-to-decipher labels. I guess one could say she prefers the pictures to speak for themselves. It takes her a while to pick out the right words, so she usually settles on the first impressions that form in her mind and blithely use them, sometimes with little regard to specific time frames and subjects.
That all came to a sudden (and temporary) halt when she texted me a few months ago. “Hey, we’re at Storm King — awesome place. Seriously, you need to visit this place,” she gushed. The name itself didn’t really give me much of a clue (Storm King? Uhh, what’s that?), but the fact that she was sufficiently impressed to rave about a certain attraction while I was busy at work was rather telling. A few moments later, a torrent of pictures were sent to my phone.
Apparently, serendipity sent her to Storm King Art Center, a Mountainville, NY-based open-air museum (not too far from the Hudson River). She was taking a long drive home from work when she stopped by to check it out. She found its vast expanse a bit intimidating at first, but after spotting an awesome sculpted piece from afar she was hooked.
The Storm King Art Center, which currently occupies roughly 500 acres, was founded by business magnate Ralph E. Ogden in early 1958. Mr. Ogden eventually opened the complex to public visitors in 1960 and began showing a small number of sculptures that he had purchased in Europe. Initially, all sculpted pieces were housed indoors, but as Ogden’s collection grew the owners decided to show them outdoors as part of the rolling landscape.
Today, among the many sculpted pieces exhibited at Storm King Art Center are works by David Smith, Mark di Suvero, Alexander Calder, Henry Moore, Isamu Noguchi, Richard Serra, Magdalena Abakanowicz, Louise Nevelson, Andy Goldsworth, Alice Aycock, Sol LeWitt, etc. And according to its Wikipedia page, Storm King got its name because of its proximity to the Storm King Mountain.
Since its founding as as a 180-acre estate in New Windsor, NY, Storm King Art Center has expanded several times through generous donations of tracts of land from various groups. It is also believed to house what may be the biggest collection of modern outdoor sculptures in the United States today.
Years ago, there was a brief power blackout at my workplace owing to a sudden and unexpectedly strong thunderstorm. It had been a warm afternoon, and we were looking forward to the weekend after a busier-than-usual workweek. For 20 minutes, we were bombarded by a series of deafening thunderclaps punctuated by lightning that slashed through the night sky.
After a while me and my officemates glanced around uneasily, wondering if the storm was going to get worse. About 3 seconds before the blackout, a couple of those sitting closest to the windows exclaimed about a flash of bluish light near our building.
I hit the Save button fast enough to freeze the chapter I was working on at the time, just before the lights went out. The building generator system came to life shortly, but after 2 minutes we were told to shut down our PCs because our emergency backup system could only support a limited number of PCs running at full capacity.
So after that, short of swapping ghost stories (which would have been great with the storm providing an eerie backdrop to hair-raising tales), we were basically left with little else to do—except to twiddle our thumbs or fiddle with our mobile phones. At this unexpected break, I was left to ponder on a few things that have been lurking in the back of my mind these past few weeks—mostly about the fact that when you’re used to do your work almost exclusively on a PC, a simple matter like a power outage can sometimes leave you feeling disoriented.
The biggest challenge was to find something stimulating to keep your mind from rotting away while you wait for: (a) power resumption (b) the clock to tell you it’s time to go home (c) an inspired moment when an idea of such passing brilliance can lead you to write an achingly beautiful sonnet, a symphony masterpiece, or a revolutionary scientific theory that will help unlock the secret to time travel.
Of these three options, the probability that option (c) will occur is likely a quadrillion-to-one proposition (like maybe, when hell freezes over?), but it sounds rather nice to include that in the list—you know, just in case a miracle happens. Me, I’d choose useless speculation anytime over boredom. At least it will preoccupy your brain after it had been forced to shift to idle mode.
I was in the middle of more outlandish imaginings when the lights suddenly came back. Almost on cue, everybody sighed in mingled relief and regret. Our office jester, who’s rarely at a loss for words, quipped: “All right slaves, show’s over. Now, back to work!”
Because of my unpredictable schedule, I haven’t been able to read as much as I wanted to lately. Truth to tell, there haven’t been that many reading materials that could tempt me to go beyond a cursory run-through. So, I did the next best thing. I began re-reading some of my favorite books. This time, I decided to re-read Angelology (by Danielle Trussoni).
I remember feeling excited after reading a favorable review of this novel in TIME (reviewed by Lev Grossman). Curious, I compared it with other reviews I could find at the time and checked the author’s bio (Angelology is Ms. Trussoni’s first work of fiction) for good measure. At the end of three reviews, my gut instinct kicked in. I knew I had to read this book. (I had this type of reaction several times in the past, and so far this instinct hasn’t failed me yet.)
It took me a while to secure an unsold copy, but I remember feeling relieved after picking up the book (I had to place my order by phone so the bookstore could hold the last remaining unsold copy for me).
Angelology (2010; Viking Press)
I started reading Angelology on my way home and didn’t stop reading until 5:45am. Despite the book’s minor drawbacks, the tale held me enthralled. I think this story resonated with me is that it reminded me of one of my favorite X-files episodes (“All Souls”), which dealt with the concept of nephilim (transl. “fallen ones”).
Angelology has been described as a supernatural thriller in the tradition of Dan Brown, although I think it’s more in the style of Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose (and, in my opinion, Ms. Trussoni is a better writer compared to Dan Brown). Think of a gripping, multilayered gothic tale with biblical roots and tinged with intrigues and conspiracies. At its core, it tells of a centuries-old struggle between the nephilim, the hybrid offspring of rebellious angels and female mortals, and a secret society of humans who have studied and resolutely opposed the nephilim (angelologists) and their machinations.
If you have an abiding interest in angels (and not just the good kind) and don’t mind reading a lengthy discourse on art, history, Greek mythology, various biblical texts, etc., Angelology shouldn’t be too much of a challenge. If you’re a Catholic, it will probably be easier to digest this premise (although Ms. Trussoni also makes liberal references to Jewish and Muslim religious texts to substantiate some of her points). At any rate, you might learn a thing or two about how humans have viewed angels throughout the centuries.
Credit: Beowulf Sheehan (New York Times)
There are certain parts of this book that I found particularly intriguing. Because Ms. Trussoni is not the type to overwhelm you with overwrought (and repetitive) prose—this actually prompts your imagination to go into overdrive, leaving you with just enough space to interpret her descriptions in several ways. Naturally, if you already have preconceived notions (e.g., appearance of angelic beings), your mind is given free rein to embellish these scenes according to those beliefs.
For some reason, I keep going back to the scene where, during a pivotal event, a group of nuns conducted a “summoning” ceremony—so much so that I actually asked my high school religion teacher (Sister Jean) if she had ever taken part in anything similar or knew anything about it (it turns out their order has instituted no such practice).
The second book of this series (Angelopolis; lit. “City of Angels”) was released in 2012; a third book has been discussed in some quarters, but to date it has not been released. Sony is known to have bought the film rights to this book, so it’s probably not too much of a stretch to expect a movie based on Angelology in a few years’ time. At least, I hope so.
Last year (2021), during one of her free days off from work, my sister decided to take a slow, lengthy walk at Central Park (NYC) to remind herself that there’s still a world out there beyond the suffocating reach of Covid lockdowns. It seemed like a nice place to explore without having to worry about other people crowding her space.
As she glanced around, she realized the flowers were in full bloom (she was rarely in Central Park in the past several months so she wasn’t particularly attuned to the changes there). So what does she do? She whips out her phone, of course, and starts clicking away.
Unbothered with her rapidly filling phone memory, she began sending them to me. After admiring the images, I too began to save them in my hard drive. Inwardly I was wondering how I could share these pictures without having to send them to somebody else. I filed them in my storage and waited for the right time to show them off. Then today, it hit me. Since I now have this brand new WP blog, why don’t I just post them there instead?
At the very least, these little nuggets could provide me with a new incentive to update my blog while I pick away at my sluggish brain cells for something else to post. So here they are. Enjoy.
I wish I knew all their names — as well as their scientific names (binomial nomenclature). In my line of work, adding scientific names to various living creatures (plants, animals, protists) is a common feature, particularly in biological/medical/research articles. It’s like adding an official-looking badge to an otherwise unimpressive and well-worn work uniform.
Okay, here’s a couple more for good measure. Have a nice day, folks.
As you may have noticed, the first 2 shows–Good Omens (Amazon) and Only Murders in the Building–are now on their second season after their successful premier season.
Good Omens, whose first season (2019) consisted of six episodes and was co-produced by Amazon and BBC Studios, is based on the fantasy novel co-written by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett in 1990. The main characters are played by Michael Sheen (Aziraphale) and David Tennant (Crowley).
Only Murders in the Building, on the other hand, was introduced to viewers by Hulu in 2021 when Covid lockdowns were still in place in some areas. In its first season, the 10-episode comedy/mystery series featured a heavyweight cast of Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Selena Gomez and several well-known stars as recurring guests. All three stars will be returning in season 2, which is expected to air on June 28, 2022.
Both shows have been well received by viewers and critics alike, so it’s no wonder fans are stoked as the hype steadily builds up.
However, what really excites me more is the arrival of Obi-Wan Kenobi (Disney Plus), which many Star Wars fans have been breathlessly waiting for. If there is one character, outside of the Skywalker family, that effectively threads the first two Star Wars trilogies (prequel, main) it would have to be Obi-Wan Kenobi himself, who has also been featured in several Star Wars side stories in comic novels and animated series (particularly Star Wars Rebels). In fact, both Luke Skywalker and his father, Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader, would not have hit the heights they were destined to reach if it weren’t for Obi-Wan Kenobi’s guidance and sacrifice. Darth Vader’s pain and bitterness may have been more intense and consequently more incandescent to viewers, but very few people could have gone through what Obi-Wan has experienced and still manage to succeed with grace and resilience despite decades of pain, loss, and regret in order to prod Luke in the right direction so balance in the galaxy can finally be achieved.
After the largely disappointing sequel trilogy (no, I still haven’t seen Episode IX and I don’t intend to), my interest in Star Wars dipped sharply, but I have always wondered about Obi-Wan. What happened to him throughout those years before Episode IV: A New Hope? What were the things he had to give up so he could survive and continue with his mission? What propelled him to make the choices he made? To me, his story always felt like the more compelling–and important–chapter rather than the lackluster sequel (which I wish I could forget) because of the emotional resonance of his own journey.
Okay, I think I have digressed further than I had planned. Obi-Wan Kenobi, who is again played by Ewan McGregor, is projected to air in May 2022. This series is directed by Deborah Chow.
The next one on the horizon is the third season of The Mandalorian (Grogu!), but let’s save that story for another day.
So far, with the seven noms she has garnered for the 2022 GRAMMY Awards, teen sensation Olivia Rodrigo has bagged three awards — Best New Artist, Best Pop Solo Performance (for her monster global Hit, Driver’s License), and Best Pop Vocal Album (for Sour). Not too shabby for a budding 19-year-old singer/songwriter who more than 2 years ago was barely a blip in most people’s radar.
Olivia Rodrigo accepting one of her awards at the 64th Grammy Awards.
The Disney+ star-turned-pop superstar is also nominated for Album of the Year (for Sour), Record of the Year (Driver’s License), Best Music Video (Good 4 U), Best Pop Vocal Album (Sour), and Song of the Year (Driver’s License).
Olivia Rodrigo, who is of mixed ancestry (Filipino, Irish-German), performed Driver’s License during the show and is about to embark on her Sour tour in various cities in the USA and Canada.
(Photo credit: Kevin Mazur/Getty Images)
Meanwhile, the powerhouse duo Silk Sonic (consisting of Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak) opened the show with 777, a song from their highly successful debut album An Evening with the Silk Sonic. Their signature song Leave the Door Open, which they performed for the Grammy Awards in 2021, won Song of the Year, Best R&B Song, and Best R&B Performance this year.
Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak
Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak are currently in the middle of their Las Vegas Residency, a series of live concert shows at the Park MGM in Las Vegas, NV.
The 64th Grammy Awards (CBS; April 3) is hosted by The Daily Show host Trevor Noah and is being held at the Los Angeles Convention Center.
I was cleaning my local drive yesterday (aka: deleting old/unused files) when I inadvertently clicked on an old folder of anime videos that I’ve hoarded for years. Some will always remain in my Favorite Things to Watch When I Have Nothing Else to Do list, but sadly this time there were a few titles and series that failed to make the cut (I really needed that extra space).
Tucked away in a corner was my prized Hayao Miyazaki subfolder (which will always find a permanent place in my “attic”). I glanced at the Miyazaki classics (Spirited Away, Kiki’s Delivery Service, My Neighbor Totoro, Nausicaa, Princess Mononoke, etc.) that I have loved and watched so many times throughout the years. Yes, these are keepers of the highest order.
Then, I started watching My Neighbor Totoro; in minutes I was back in my happy place.
A couple of hours later I started surfing and visited my old Blogspot page, which I created and eventually abandoned years ago (I had other priorities at the time). I had already forgotten my password there so the page had been left untouched for years. I snickered when I read some of the things I had written. There were a few eye rolls here and there, but I’d like to think I’ve learned a few things since then.
Then I came across an old post that featured My Neighbor Totoro, widely considered one of Hayao Miyazaki’s masterpieces. So, okay, I guess some things will always be the same. What I wrote back then still rings true for me today, so with a few edits and minor changes I’m republishing that piece in this page.
Among Hayao Miyazaki’s animated films, I’ve always found My Neighbor Totoro (Tonari no Totoro; 1988) the easiest to appreciate and relate with because, notwithstanding its supernatural elements, the story is grounded in reality (with subtle autobiographical brush strokes) and takes place in a sleepy rural setting.
My Neighbor Totoro has no overt violent scenes, which should make this animated feature fairly suitable even to young children, although it does deal with the threat of loss and pain from a child’s viewpoint. The film radiates with childlike wonder, discovery, and ready acceptance of extraordinary incidents. Basically, it is one anime film that I’d be pleased to recommend to anyone regardless of the viewer’s age.
The animation, as expected for a Studio Ghibli offering, is top-notch, and the characters are well delineated. The story focuses on two young girls who, along with their father (a college professor), move into an old country house — a quaint, rustic structure replete with cobwebs, rotting posts, and rattling windows — in order to be near the hospital where their mother is being treated. In one of her rambles, 4-year-old Mei stumbles into the slumbering guardian spirit of the forest — a huge, cuddly, bear-like creature called Totoro, who’s apparently only visible to young children.
Without giving away the rest of the story (I don’t want to spoil the experience for those who still haven’t seen it), there are several aspects in this film that should be fairly obvious to a Miyazaki enthusiast. The main protagonist is a young girl (or in this case, girls) who’s learning to grapple with the complexities of life (a recurring theme in many Studio Ghibli films such as Spirited Away, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Laputa Castle, and Porco Rossi). There’s also an endearingly clumsy young boy named Kanta, who shows a budding interest in planes/aviation (Kiki’s Delivery Service, Laputa Castle), a trait that Miyazaki shared as a child.
My Neighbor Totoro likewise highlights, in unobtrusive but touching instances, the way the Japanese show respect for their elderly citizens and the ‘natural’ spirits around them. The other plusses for this film include the gorgeous scenery, the sweeping vista of rural 1950s Japan, and the lush musical score.
Living under the constant threat of Covid is no joke. We all learned that the hard way these past 2 years.
Notwithstanding the number of lives lost worldwide and COVID-19‘s ghastly repercussions on our health and wallets, as well as the billions of dollars spent on healthcare, mitigation programs, research, etc., we all continue to live our lives the best way we can — sometimes the only way we can — as we try to maintain some sort of normalcy (and hold on to what make our lives seem normal) in these trying times.
As with millions of other folks, I hailed the arrival of Covid vaccines (e.g., Moderna, Pfizer, J&J, AstraZenica, Novavax) in 2021 and dutifully lined up when they became available in our area. My sigh of relief was cut short when I shortly learned that we needed another shot (a booster!) to strengthen our defenses against this contagious disease. And now we’re hearing we might be needing one more booster shot in the near future, although for now they’re just offering these vaccines to people who are in their 50s and older. My point is, when is this thing going end? Or is it actually going ever going to end?
For now, the answer to that question is still up in the air. All I know is, if the experts recommend getting those vaccines, then I will take them. For now, I’m just trying to stagger back to my regular routine and reconnect with my “old” self. You know, before COVID-19 appeared and upended everything. Not that things will ever go back 100% to the way they were. These days, I still mask up when I go out and automatically avoid crowded areas. I also try to limit my trips outside and make sure I’m always stocked up on meds, face masks, etc. Staying home has its advantages, but there are days when I barely know myself anymore. So, with some trepidation I go out. Yet, for some reason, the only time I actually feel comfortable is when I’m in a coffeehouse (albeit a less crowded one) typing away at my laptop.
[Below is one of a few posts that I was able to save from an old blog. The fact that this was written a few years ago is rather apparent based on the references I’ve made (books and movies). Still, I’m rather fond of this piece because I wrote this in an exasperated frame of mind; after a few edits here and there, it sounded halfway decent so I retained a copy of it.]
I love wordplay — you know, things like puns and witty punchlines and classic comebacks that wrest wry smiles and spontaneous laughter out of you.
(Source: image grabbed from Twitter; sorry I can no longer remember who it was.)
Because I am hopelessly inept at this, I tend to be readily impressed whenever I hear somebody press home a point with a succinct, hit-the-nail-on-its-head idiomatic phrase. And you have to admit that there are times when a perfectly delivered turn of phrase can crystallize an event or situation in a way that no lengthy speeches could ever hope to match. In gatherings or social affairs, you won’t be hard-pressed to find the life of the party or the social wit — more often than not, it’s the person who rolls off clever remarks at a drop of a hat, and who leaves the audience chuckling, nodding in agreement, and inwardly wondering if they’ve somehow missed the point.
I am forever waiting for that opportune moment when I, too, could be blessed with such smooth, rapier-like timing and say something slick like, “The eleventh pun always gets a laugh, even if no pun in ten (10) did.” Or at least a just tiny fraction of Piers Anthony’s fertile punny concoctions for his Xanth novels (e.g., Centaur Aisle, Air Apparent, the perennially late character Justin Thyme).
Although it pains me to say it, I have to admit I just don’t have it. More often than not I’d be hampered by slow mental processes (umm, slow on the uptake?), sloppy timing, inarticulateness, and occasionally, consideration for other people’s feelings. Usually, by the time some sleek repartee comes to mind, the moment to make my point has already passed and everybody else has jumped on to a new topic. If ever I blurt out anything remotely clever and funny at the same time, it’s more of an accident than by design. Sometimes it makes me wish I had Adam Sandler’s remote control (remember the movie Click?) to make time stop while I reach for my dictionary or scroll down a handy list of “Witty Things to Say for Every Occasion”. That sure would make things simpler, except that I would probably end up spoiling the momentum of the conversation (spontaneity?). Or something.
Dots & Dashes 