buchino

“It could be worse.”

I hear that a lot. And think it works, too. Like when the significant other texts something passive aggressive, I think: at least we’re not meth addicts with six kids, horrendous debt, poor taste in music and an abortion on the way. Or when the ticketing network at work fails, I consider the infrastructure of the United States and what a cataclysmic earthquake off the coast of Oregon could do to fuck the last livable city (Portland) in this big stupid country. Everything is terrible, but it could be worse. 

Doesn’t that feel better?

No? Well, it could be worse…

I used to order Coke with my meals. Every once in a while, a server would give me a Pepsi without alerting me. After one sip I would know I had been swindled. 

The trailer for True Grit is amazing. The film is amazing, too, but not what the trailer promises. 

The trailer makes True Grit look like a high-energy, dark shoot-’em-up: a couple of cowboys team up to avenge a 14-year-old girl’s father, said girl is kidnapped, a whirlwind of badass ensues. 

Instead, it’s much subtler and simpler. Language—not guns or badassery—is a big highlight. 

The reason for the dissonance is how the trailer remixes the audio and splices scenes. It sells a product that doesn’t exist. It’s kinda like seeing this trailer before seeing The Shining, only slightly less severe.

What you get isn’t bad, it’s just not what you were sold.

Remember this trailer for Eternal Sunshine for the Spotless Mind? I certainly do. I thought, “Wow, this looks like a fun indie romp!” Turns out, Eternal Sunshine was nothing like that trailer and I was immediately disappointed. It’s taken a long time for me to recover from that and actually appreciate the film for what it is.

Sell the product for what it is. People are happy to get just what they pay for. Don’t sell me a Coke and deliver a Pepsi. It’s awkward. 

Warning: Contains unnecessary bragging.

There’s this play called Futura that’s being premiered at three theaters, one of which is Portland Center Stage, where I’m employed. 

Since I’m a bit of a type nerd, I was going to assign the promotional image to me (instead of do art direction for an out-of-house illustrator) from the get-go. This bitch is mine, I said. Then I was all like, don’t fuck up!

Futura, the typeface, is used as a story-telling device. The play follows a woman kidnapped by the secret police. The overarching theme is censorship. Think 1984 meets Fahrenheit 451.

Here’s my art: 

So, not only is my art effing brilliant and the thing of which I am most proud these days, but it’s also way better than the other two theaters’ art, as seen below: 

Like I said, this is me bragging. I don’t do it often and I know it looks ugly on me, but just look at that beautiful effing image! It’s so simple and it tells a story. The other two are backwards type blocks. 

Anyway, kids. I saw this show in workshop form last summer and it’s pretty good. Boston Court’s production is winning great reviews and it just went up at National Asian American Theatre Company. If you’re in Portland, see it at Portland Center Stage this winter. 

Things are silly. I want to touch them, hold them, say they’re mine. But it’s impractical. A few things turn into stuff and stuff is just a nice way to say clutter.

I fear that things—and stuff and clutter—will find their way into somehow representing me, the way I operate, the way I live. Worse than that, I will run out of closet space. 

So if you want it, for just a measly £89.99 at Universal Music or only $63.99 on Amazon, you can buy that one live recording of The Who that’s pretty-good-for-the-era-but-not-especially-great-and-totally-overrated in the Super Deluxe Edition format, which includes a bunch of things and stuff, some of which you may already own as part of your closet clutter.