Scary Grown Up Stuff

So the Wife’s application for Canadian Permanent Residency was submitted a while ago, and we got a letter back saying that the initial phase (Whether or not I was suitable as a sponsor) has been approved and her application proper is now being processed.

Of course that’s going to take a while, but in the meantime, bizarrely adult considerations have to be made like “Where the hell are we going to go?”

Not having a ton of money at the moment, one extremely odd alternative has popped up.

The maritime provinces.

A good sized house there sells for 20,000 Canadian. This can be reasonably handled with our fairly limited savings. I’m not saying that that’s what’s gonna’ happen for sure, but knowing real estate is so cheap out in the middle of nowhere does have its appeal from a financial survivability viewpoint.

Of course the sanity viewpoint is something else, but heck, this is all speculation at this point…

The Retroactive Post

This is the post I would’ve made had I had access to the Internet at 35,000 feet over the Pacific Ocean.

As is, I’ll just have to make it now and pretend I’m still making daily posts…

It’s My Birthday Today

And I am dead tired and ready to go home.

Last Day

It’s the morning of the last day of E3. Still busy as hell, but I’ve seen tons o’ games. A more complete and totally biased list of impressions to come… Probably when I’m back home and dealing with jet lag…

Too Busy

E3 in full swing. I have a ton of stuff to write. More later…

Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

I went to the Nintendo press conference this morning, which, if nothing else, finally allowed me to be in the same room with Shigeru Miyamoto even if the space between was filled with 3000 other journalists.

The conference took place at the Kodak Theater on Sunset, usual home of the Academy awards. The theater itself had two massive screens on the left and right, flanking one monolithic screen in the center. There was also a massive sort of “slope” on the stage with the Nintendo logo on it and hatches built into the slope opened up to let people enter the stage all dramatic-like.

I have to admit that I went in being a skeptic and came out quite impressed almost filled with hope. The Wii, as stupid as the name is, has promise.

I was under the impression at first that its controller system, now pretty much thought of as the “Nunchuk” controller operated in a somewhat different fashion than it actually does.

The left controller is the one you use to actually move around, as evidenced by the thumbstick on the top. The right controller has various buttons, including a trigger on the bottom can be pulled. It’s also designed to have its movements detected by the Wii console, meaning that by waving it around, you can simulate the act of casting a fishing rod or swinging a sword and that motion is replicated on screen. What I didn’t know was that the left controller was also wired to do the same thing.

I was pretty amazed with the demonstration they had using a tennis game. Miyamoto himself was one of the demonstrators, using only the “wand” the controller on the right, waving it up in the same way a tennis player would toss a ball up in the air, and then swing down the same way to send the ball away. As the game progressed, the players kept–by pure instinct–using the same kinds of swings and body language that might occur if they were playing for real. Some other applications they showed off on other games included a Zelda game where players could use a combination of swing the sword and blocking with the shield to fight enemies, or in an FPS called Red Steel, pulling back on the wand put the game into sniper mode.

It’s too early to tell, but there are tons of really interesting possibilities in this and I’m extremely curious to see how it all goes.

After that, there was an informal tour of Sunset and Beverly Hills that revealed, amongst other things, the Viper Room where River Phoenix died, the school with an auditorium donated by Michael Jackson that now has the Michael Jackson part of its named painted over, park where George Michael was arrested for engaging in lewd acts, the Playboy mansion and the hotel where John Belushi ODed.

Sleazy, star obssessive tours. Gotta’ love ‘em…

Out Of The Pocket

I have barely slept. The combination of being unable to sleep on planes combined with my inability to sleep in a new place the first night, combined with the omnipresent unsynchronicity of time zones from jet lag means that I’ve probably been awake for close to 48 hours now. I think I may get desperate tonight and actually take some Nyquil just to ensure I actually get knocked out. I may have slept for a few brief minutes here and there last night, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.

I finally got out of bed around 6 am, wandered into the Starbucks at the hotel to get some coffee and got roped into a conversation with the baristas where I had to explain my wallet was made out of marijuana hemp, but that’s okay since it’s from Nepal. I think the stoner expression on my face left them with the deep conviction that just before coming in to get coffee I had, in fact, been smoking my wallet. Ended up sitting on a bench just outside the hotel watching the people work and the traffic go by and the people in suits doing people in suit things, which usually involved talking on cellular phones in an irritated manner to someone who was an idiot. Finally going back into my room revealed a roommate already propped up on the bed taking in Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey, which meant a respectful and mandatory watching. Breakfast was a slow mosey over to a nearby Burger King a couple of blocks away to watch everyone there slowly eating things by the grey light of an overcast morning.

Today was the first actual E3 related event, although I can’t actually talk too much about it because there’s an embargo on what was presented until the 10^th. Suffice to say it was a press conference by Activision, so a quick look on any gaming website about Activision’s upcoming titles should give you a pretty clear idea of what was presented there.

It was a pretty impressive presentation, especially considering the kind of things I’ve gotten used to from the comparatively meagre PR marketing efforts that the Singapore entities of these publishers would normally give. This one took place in a full on hall with rows and rows and rows of tables at which journalists from all over the frickin’ planet sat, some furiously writing notes, others furiously typing as their chubby, almost albino faces were bathed in the ghost light of their laptops. There was also the traditional Journalist’s Bribe afterwards of free food; carefully packed sandwiches, cookies and potato chips and other edible accessories which came in the usual American size servings, meaning I had no hope in hell of actually finishing one of these Activision MREs while typical American journalists probably ate two or three and still had room for lunch.

After that it was time to do some sightseeing. There were three of us, and one of the trio had never been to L.A. before. Not that I actually remember too much of the city since the last time I was here was as a kid.

L.A. started feeling more and more like a real place today, as opposed to the pocket dimension that is Singapore which is nice, neat, orderly, efficient and remarkably like an urban entity designed by an expert Sim City player. L.A. on the other hand, with its graffiti on freeway walls, it’s hopeless public transportation and melange of confused but highly stressed, ambitious and motivated individuals feels far more substantial—and threatening—than Singapore ever does. But then in my mind, real does not always equate to better.

The first place we went to was some mall in and around the Hollywood area called Beverly Center, or Beverly Shopping Mall, I forget exactly which. People bought things while I watched, and then we marched across the street to a music store which also sold DVDs, and I finally ended up getting something for the Wife and myself to watch, though I won’t say what here, since she’s reading this. Afterwards it was announced that it was now time to make the pilgrimage and pay homage to the House Of Smith by hitting up Jay & Silent Bob’s Secret Stash. On the way over, we got our first exposure to Road Rage ™ when someone started honking furiously on the freeway and then pulled out of the main lane, speeding away while sticking his fist out and shaking it with all the power and majesty of a short, muscular man in a toupee trying to do his best Robert DeNiro “Are you talking to ME?!?” impression.

Eventually we arrived at our destination, which was in Westwood.

Going in was not the geek fest I was expecting, simply because of a lack of geeks. The store itself was super geeky, with a sign on the door that read “I assure you, we’re open,” a nod to Clerks, and a giant banner behind the counter reading “I’m not even supposed to be here today”, but there was a noticeable lack of Steve-Dave types, with only one other customer at a time, and a bored but still friendly cashier behind the counter who was playing on the public speaker what seemed to be an audio book explaining the REAL truth behind 9-11 and how Flight 93 didn’t crash, and how explosives were used in the twin towers and all kinds of other stuff. Kevin Smith DVDs were, unsurprisingly, on sale, some of them signed by Kev himself.

There were also glass display cases which held, amongst other things, the Daredevil costume, the chest plate Ben Affleck wore in Dogma towards the end, the Bluntman & Chronic outfits worn in Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back, and the catsuit and skimpy green top and denim skirt worn by Shannon Elizabeth, also in the same film. Comics and other paraphernalia were purchased by the geeks (Though not me), which included a “Got Christ” T-shirt with Buddy Christ on it. Classic.

Then we decided to
take the bus down to Santa Monica beach, and it was here that we got our first real taste of L.A. when, while waiting for the bus, one pulled up with an angry bus driver and an equally angry passenger who were screaming at each other because the bus driver was saying “Get the hell out, it’s the end of the line,” and the passenger was screaming “NO! AND WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING AT ME?!?” which, incredibly, resulted in a fist fight. The bus driver and the passenger (for the record the driver was kind of old and white, the passenger was black) were seriously going at it, grabbing heads, punching each other, and eventually guys on the street tried to break it up. We were in front of some Westwood gym, and a short but buff guy came out of the gym and tried to break it up, when the passenger turned on him and another fight ensued, except this one ended up with him on the ground, getting kicked by the gym guy while the bus driver talked on the cell phone, presumably to the police, since the cops showed up just the bus we wanted arrived and we left that ugly little scene.

Hitting the beach was surreal because A) It was gloomy and overcast, which made it vaguely resemble Brighton, and B) I had a major sense of incomplete déjà vu and at first attributed it to having been there before, and then realized that the reason it was incomplete was because it needed to be strewn with bodies and jacked cars, with me running people over and indiscriminately crashing into ferris wheels and folks on the beach. I was quite struck by just how accurately GTA San Andreas had recreated this environment to the point where I was thinking “And on the left should be the roller coaster and my God, there it is…”

Things were getting kind of painful at this point because for some reason I was having a cramp in my lower legs that caused me to start walking around with a pronounced limp like an unfortunate returnee from a tour of duty in Iraq. Sitting down helped, but usually the pain came after a few minutes of walking.

From the beach we went down the street to the boardwalk, and perused the Border’s bookstore, listened to some bad guitarists on the street, and found a toy store which sold neat items like Jesus, Moses, Einstein and Leonardo Da Vinci action figures, and a genius set called “Cube” that offered little Playmobil style figures in their own office cubicles that had PCs showing off solitaire or the Windows Blue Screen Of Death.

A little bit more wandering finally ended up back at the hotel were the cabbie thoughtfully pointed out a strip club within walking distance of the hotel in case we needed entertainment, though in all likelihood, tonight’s entertainment will probably consist of watching Brick on the hotel TV.

Wow, I sure do write lots when I’m tired…

Jet Lag Is Reeling In Your Soul

At least, that’s how William Gibson described it in Pattern Recognition. That the strange, slow lucidity you experience is the result of your soul still being back home while your body has moved too fast for it to catch up.

My laptop clock is still set to Singapore time, but it’s actually past 7 pm in Los Angeles. I arrived on the same day I left, despite being the air for about 16 hours, an experience I had almost forgotten I loathe.

It was a weird thing coming into the USA after so many years away from it. The last time I was here was just as a kid, back in the 80s and 90s and the landscape and mindset was a far, far different thing than what it is now.

You noticed it slowly, but it made its presence known even as early as the transfer flight from Taipei to LAX. On the Singapore-Taipei leg, everything was normal and it was the kind of flight I’ve grown accustomed to over the years with lots of confused accents and people speaking to me in Chinese until I gave a very confused and Canadian “Huh?”

But as we hit the Pacific for the big stretch, we first got an announcement on the PA saying that American flight regulations strictly forbid the gathering of groups around the lavatory area, or anywhere else for that matter, especially around the pilot’s compartment.

The knives we were given to eat our food with had metal handles, but reinforced plastic blades.

As we got closer to LAX, a video courtesy of the Homeland Security office played out instructing visitors on the admission process through the airports, explaining the thumb printing biometric and the camera situated at all immigration booths to take pictures of people coming into the country. Strangely enough, Canadians, it would seem, don’t have to be subjected to this thumb print and mug shot, but Singaporeans do.

At the moment I’m sort of in the middle of Re-Culture Shock. The guys I’m with find it endlessly amusing that I boggle at the fact that cars on the proper side of the road again and the fact that I can mostly understand all the conversations around me. In a weird sort of way, I feel like I’ve just stepped into Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas with much better graphics. I did a double take when I actually heard people speaking Spanish while walking down the street. Of course if it had been GTA, they would have opened up with guns on me at that point…

Right now my initial impressions of the USA are that it seems super, hyper, mega focused on violence. Despite the fact that they seem really afraid of it right now, they just can’t stop discussing or spectating it like an open wound they need to rub and poke. Just random clicking through the television reveals all kinds of horrible news stories and documentaries about terrible things Americans do to each other. There’s a kind of morbid pride in it, the same way some Goth girls show off the scars of multiple suicide attempts.

I did not sleep on the plane, and I don’t feel hungry, but I guess I should try and stay up and go to bed at a reasonable hour to help adjust to the lag. There’s a kind of spaced out quality, as if the world jumps frames at random intervals, leaving things with a kind of unpredictable, stuttered rhythm.

Or maybe that’s just the jaded traveler talking. I don’t understand how anyone could think living out of a suitcase is cool. I already miss home and the Wife.