I have such little time.

Within hours, I'll be on my way to Maine, not to surface again for the rest of the summer. However, I'm still going to use this Blog as a method of communication, by sending Nicky, my friend at Okay, Yeah, Whatever, letters. Hopefully, he'll do me a favor and post them on this site using a handy dandy email service. That's all I got for now, I have several posts which I couldn't write on time riding on that fine man.

If you wish to write me, and inform of all doings, send me letters at:

Winona Camps For Boys
Lukas Fauset-'CIT'
35 Winona Road
Bridgton, Maine 04009-9774
United States

Good-bye, friends!

Renewing my faith in Natalie Portman

Here I am, not trying to rip of my blogging icon, but probably succeeding quite well anyway. My aunt forced me to watch Garden State tonight, and well, though I'm not sure how much I actually liked it, I'm glad to say that I've forgiven Natalie Portman for her terrible performance in Star Wars. The thing was, as far as I'm concerned, she dominated the movie. I didn't care too much about Largeman because the choices were obvious, his character was so defined that his evolution didn't make any impact on me. What I was curious about, however, was Natalie Portman's character, and the rest of New Jersey. There were some neat moments, not many of which were emphasized to my liking.

Now I know I could put this in the drafts folder, but I'm tired, my mom is nagging at me to go to bed, and I know I wouldn't continue this later, so here it is.

Batman Begins to Kick Ass

Entering the theatre for Batman Begins, I was harboring mixed feelings. Part of me was taking my the hype to heart, praying to be blown away by a Batman movie that finally brings the legend back to screen. The other part of me remembered Batman & Robin. But from the moment the movie had begun, I was hooked. They had done it. Thanks to Christopher Nolan, Batman is back!

Or well, he was eventually. One of the most interesting things about the movie was that Batman didn't really show up until the end. For the most part, it was Bruce Wayne kicking ass, which I actually enjoyed just as much. Like the IGN review said, every little bit of everything was detailed and explained, which did to make the movie a very real experience. It achieved what Spider-man only skimmed the surface of. It brought real depth to everyone, in or out of the mask. I would rather see, in fact, Cillian Murphey (Scarecrow) out of mask than in it. The amount of fear he managed to bring to Dr. Crane was so incredible I had to check him out in IMDB.com. He doesn't quite have that serious of a repertoire of films, his previous claim to fame being in 28 Days Later, but he is starring in the next Wes Craven film: Red Eye. I suppose they think red eyes are scarier, never mind the airplane reference. But after seeing his performance in Batman Begins, I'd say that his blue eyes would scare me twice as much. By the way, in Red Eye, he plays a guy named Jackson Rippner... Get it? JACKson, RIPpner? Huh? Oh. Fine. I think it's kind of cool.

It's difficult for me to talk much about the movie, as I fear I'd ruin some crucial moments for those who have not seen it. However, if you haven't seen it, go see it now. Hell, go see it, read the comic books, read the dailies, spend all your money on pointless merchandise and collectible items seen on the TV Show "Batman Watches" (Which is, believe it or not, an actual TV show.) I know I want to. After having seen that movie, I've lost all wonder as to why there are so many fans out there.

Oh damn, there I go. I'm getting all sentimental. I remember the days of running home from school to watch a video of Batman my grandma diligently taped for me every time they aired. Hell, I think I might even still have some lying around. I remember with fondness every single moment of the introduction, and most of the episodes. That show was really good. Fox knew they had a good show when they did. So did Cartoon Network, for that matter. They both had Batman themed intermissions publicizing, the dark Batman theme under the flashy logos, while lightening flashed behind the raised figure of the caped crusader. I'm going to have to dig out my Batman memorabilia from my childhood soon, and plague my local Barnes & Nobles for Batman collections.

I didn't know Jack.

I just watched the season finale to 24, and I must say... It was awesome.

Maybe I'll write more on it. But for now? I'll let the image of Jack walking off into the sunrise stand.

I Most Certainly Heart Huckabees.

I Heart Huckabees is the exact type of movie you'd see on an airplane. I did not see it on an airplane, but my cousin did, and was so enthralled with it that he bought the special edition hours later. And hours after that, I watched it myself for the very first time. It was a pretty good movie from start to finish, but that didn't stop it from being Airplane fodder.
I could just evaluate the movie, and leave it at that, but there was something about the movie that drew me to it. For those of you who have seen it, I don't suppose this is anything new, but for those of my imaginary audience who haven't, it's very much in vein of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Being John Malkavich. What this movie targets is the same kind of crowd, but raises new questions. Or does it?

Although many questions were raised throughout the movie, only one was brought up again. At the end if the credits, it is mentioned: "How am I not myself?"

Now the people I saw the movie with, specifically my cousin, three friends, and my mom, each turned to themselves to ponder the question aloud.

Now pause a moment, and think about the question. I'll give you a few lines, chain letter style.
***
***
***
***
***
***
***
Now do you have an answer? My thought is simple. We are ourselves, no matter what. By saying that we are, sometimes, not ourselves, we would be passing responsibility from ourselves on to some imaginary person. Then, who are we passing the blame onto? Everyone else! According to I Heart Huckabees, we are made of squares. And then there are smaller squares between those squares. And, so on, and so forth, until everything is one. And therefore, you are I, and I am you.
I am with you all the time, any time, and is that something you want? Would you really want me standing over your shoulder and criticizing your every move?

But would you deny that and give up your inherent universal Zen?

In the words of the Jigsaw Killer: "Make your choice."

That New Jersey Smog Did Me Good.

This Memorial Day weekend, I accompanied my friend Edward on an extravaganza into the coast of New Jersey, to bathe in the the cool blue sea, ride through the hills, marvel at the island's wonders, and blow up stuff. I, at the time, was recovering from an awful bout of sickness, and was praying I'd not throw back my little health.

I tried to watch Casablanca on the way up, on Edward's laptop, but that didn't seem to go to well in terms of car sickness, so I instead chose to lapse in and out of consciousness until we arrived. Arriving after midnight, I don't seem to remember much through the sleepy haze I was enveloped in, but I was struck when I exited the little house in the morning. I was in an entirely different world. I had magically transported myself into an entirely different culture.

First of all. There was a yard sale. Now I'm not talking about any old yard sale, this thing was massive, as if the entire Island had put their lives on hold to show anyone who was willing to pay what made up their lives. Edward and I spent the entire morning enveloped in this bizarre form of prostitution, shopping for random items. It's truly amazing as to what objects you can find, and for what prices. We even bought a perfectly working Lawnmower (more on that later). But I'd have to have to say that our best find was a crash helmet. When I checked the price, it told me to consult the owner for a price. Uh-oh, I thought. That's what they do for really high priced jewelry and stuff, so I figured I was about to pick up an ancient and antique crash helmet that FDR probably wore to a costume party.
"How much do you want for it?" Said the Old Woman who hobbled out from under a table. I looked at Edward.
"Um, two bucks?"
"Sold!" Shouted the woman happily, and she snatched the two dollars from Edwards hands before disappearing under the table again. I half wondered if we could have possibly been ripped off as I dropped the helmet into the basket of my bike and rode off. I had thought about wearing it, but I probably wasn't going to attract many of the lovely islanders that way.

We got back to Edward's house and began to disassemble the lawnmower. Several cuts, bruises, and gasoline fires later, the motor was sitting in a cardboard box, ready to be shipped to Manhattan where we would slap it into a chassis and make a go-cart. That's why we had gotten the Crash Helmet. Barreling down the streets of NYC in a homemade go-cart is bound to send us into some fire-hydrants. I'm wondering if my ambition will ever actually let this project succeed.

So far, by this point, my image of a beach life was falling into place. We were riding aimlessly on bicycles and walking on beaches, flirting with the classical images of suburban girls. There were only two things left to do. We needed to set of lots of dangerous fireworks, and sneak out of our window in the middle of the night. Well, we did the first part. Don't get me wrong, the fireworks were incredible, and I was completely bedazzled by the Haley's Comets, but I really wished we could have snuck out in the night to attend a rambunctious party of FOX broadcasting standards. The trouble was, we had spent until one in the morning searching for a suitable water tower to climb. Unfortunately, one was right in sight of a paramedical facility, whom we highly doubted would take to kindly to us endangering our spine in front of them, and one in the middle of a trailer park, whose super patriotic decorations petrified us even more than the shotguns and axes propped up against billets of wood. An axe murderer is one thing, but a league of hill-billies allied under the image of George W. Bush's face is an entirely different subject. When my Alarm rang at 3 AM, Edward's parents were still up and I was too tired to wake Edward and fight his lethargic wrath. Our search for a midnight adventure will have to be satiated by the trailer park fear... For now...

On the way home, we stopped in none other than POINT PLEASANT! Although, instead of the floods of demons, murders, deception and sex that the afore-mentioned broadcasting company claimed existed, we discovered an excellent little lobster shop on the bay, from which we watched the cooks surreptitiously dump lobster guts into the darkened bay. That's why New Jersey is so polluted. That was the end of journey into New Jersey, and I can say I thoroughly enjoyed it. Maybe the experience of it's lifestyle will provide insight into Garden State, if I ever see it.