November 01, 2018
I realize you may still be coming down from the sugar highs of Halloween (how great were those costumes?), but I wanted to take a moment to talk to you one-on-one, from one holiday to another.
For the past few years, I've noticed that some of your followers just love celebrating your season. I like to call them Christmas Enthusiasts, and I think it's great that you have so many loyal, dedicated fans. I really do. The moment November 1 rolls around, some of them are putting up your trees, hanging up those lights, and decking all the halls. I get it. They can't contain their excitement for all of the upcoming yuletide festivities.
But Christmas, could you do me a solid and tell them to ease up a bit? I mean, December is still a month away. And dude, November is my month. Can I just get my three-and-a-half weeks of pilgrim statues, cornucopias, and cartoon turkeys? That's all I ask.
Now, I understand that some folks have an issue with my origin story (hello PC Police). And while all of that business went down hundreds of years ago, Americans have claimed me as their own, redefining the meaning of, well, me. I'm the frickin' representation of gratitude, a time to be grateful for everything you have, a time to be surrounded by loved ones, filling your bellies with delicious goodness. Come on -- have you ever heard of anyone having a blue Thanksgiving?
I also understand that some folks think there's been a war waged on you, Christmas, but let me tell you, from where I'm standing, that's the fakest of fake news I have ever heard. If anything, I think there's been a war waged on me. I get one or two racks of the same yellow-orange-brown shit while YOU get an entire section of a store dedicated to you. You get radio stations playing songs about you 24-7. Where are my tunes? Where my carolers at? And I can't drive down any main street in any town or city without seeing red and green garland being wrapped around streetlights.
Halloween's got the whole month of October, and that bitch got his fans rolling in pumpkins on Labor Day who, by the way, won't complain because everyone already hates him for ending summer. So please, just give me these few weeks. For once, put yourself in my shoes. Think about how you feel come January when Valentine's Day is pushing those marshmallow Santas out of the way to make room for her heart-shaped boxes of chocolates.
I hope you can understand where I'm coming from.
P.S. - Hanukkah says hi.
October 25, 2018
When some people think of Halloween party music, they think "Monster Mash" or "Purple People Eater."
But this ain't some cheesy episode from an 80s or 90s sitcom.
Yes, Michael Jackson's "Thriller" makes an appearance on this special playlist -- twice in fact, thanks to Steve Aoki's awesome remix of the 1983 classic -- and yes, Walk the Moon's rendition of "Ghostbusters" is in here, but that's it. The rest is designed to keep your party going well into the wee hours of the morning, loaded with hits from the 90s, 00s, and today (cue the corny radio disc jockey spiel). And it will certainly be playing at one particular party this weekend here in L.A...
See some of you there.
September 18, 2018
2018 is proving to be The Year I Fell in Love With Australian Pop Artists.
After discovering the awesome retro sounds of MOBS and the harmonies of Sheppard, it's official: Australia has been churning out some great talent this year.
More proof can be found in Future Jr., the indie artist from Down Under who's been wooing me with his single "Changing." (Also worth listening: "Forget About Me" and "Half Past You")
Give it a listen:
September 16, 2018
NAME: Hiko Mitsuzuka
SUBJECT: Summer Vacation
DATE: Sept. 16, 2018
The Summer of 2018 was a busy one.
I kicked it off with a 10-night journey through Europe. You can read about my first six nights in Berlin and Paris here, here, and here.
I read Crazy Rich Asians before seeing the movie and fell in love with Astrid long before all of y'all did.
I consumed an adequate amount of ice cream; shout-out to Talenti gelato.
I treated my parents to a weekend in Vegas. Along with a Jennifer Lopez concert.
I had many strong feelings about Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, mostly about how the franchise is losing its luster.
On the other hand, I saw and reviewed the fantastic Eighth Grade. It is being slotted in my Top 10 of the year.
I was transported back to high school when I saw TLC headline a music festival in South London. I also fell in love with London all over again.
I binged Season 2 of the brilliant Atlanta and Season 4 of the criminally overlooked You're The Worst.
I gave my MoviePass a run for its money (six movies in June, five in July) before those damn restrictions kicked in.
I attended a wedding in Santa Monica and realized not all wedding bands suck. (Kudos to the singer who pulled off Chaka Khan's "Ain't Nobody" and Whitney's "I Wanna Dance With Somebody.")
I got a little tipsy in Palm Springs during the extra-long 4th of July weekend. (Okay, I got a lot of tipsy.)
In Berlin, I ate schnitzel for the first time. And my God, it was delicious.
My father was soon thereafter diagnosed with prostate cancer, so I flew to Florida to help my parents reach a decision on treatment: he is scheduled to receive radiation treatments this fall. My family is currently doing well. Therefore, #fuckcancer.
I saw The Spy Who Dumped Me. My reaction: NO ONE TOLD ME GILLIAN ANDERSON HAS THREE SCENES IN IT!
I went to the Saved by the Bell-themed pop-up diner, Saved by the Max, in West Hollywood. The food was expectedly...okay. There were plenty of Instagram ops to be had.
My company was awarded Global Agency of the Year. NBD.
I finally read Ruth Ware's The Woman in Cabin 10. This book is screaming for a Reese Witherspoon-produced adaptation.
I bought a new pair of glasses.
I was absolutely floored by Hannah Gadsby's Nanette on Netflix.
In Paris, I ate escargot for the first time. The copious amounts of garlic butter helped.
Oh, and I signed with a lit agent before finishing the first draft of my YA horror novel, Slasher Movie Girl. (To clarify: my agent isn't actually lit; she's a literary agent, someone who reps authors. Duh.) Publishers, keep your eyes peeled this fall...
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I'm breaking up with you.
For most of this year,
We've had a good time.
10 bucks for so much,
It felt like a crime.
Blockers was cute,
Tully was great,
And who could forget,
The fun of Ocean's 8?
I bragged to my friends,
A glowing testimony,
Never feeling I wasted dollars,
On that shitty Acrimony.
But then you changed,
Like the elusive Don Draper,
Charging me extra,
To go see Skyscraper.
I gave that a pass,
Not knowing what you'd do,
And then you forced my hand,
To check out Mamma Mia 2.
Your rules and restrictions,
Gave me a bad rub,
Testing my patience,
Asking for ticket stubs.
But like an abused spouse,
I came back for more.
But going to the movies,
Shouldn't feel like a chore.
Like many, I'm frustrated.
We're all getting quite pissed.
That's why we're now eyeing,
Best of luck,
September 10, 2018
I know the season premiere of the Fox drama involves an earthquake in Los Angeles, but this billboard...oh wow.
September 04, 2018
Before you pack away the SPF and hang up those flip-flops, familiarize yourself with these tunes I've begun to curate for your autumnal pleasure.
And FYI: No pumpkins were harmed in the making of this playlist.
September 03, 2018
Richard Newby's recent thinkpiece in The Hollywood Reporter, "What Happens When Fandom Doesn't Grow Up" (read it here), brilliantly discusses how modern nostalgia has presented itself across pop culture and what it means for today's audiences...as well as tomorrow's.
I expressed a similar sentiment a few years ago, basically saying that Hollywood doesn't want me and my friends to grow up. The proof is everywhere you look. Every month there's a familiar title from my childhood or adolescence playing at my local megaplex or unleashing new episodes on the small screen.
This is undoubtedly, as many pundits have argued, a result of the growing number of business-minded (read: less creative) execs at film and TV studios who are averse to high-risk investments (i.e. original content), enabling this rampant reboot fever that is affecting a generation of viewers that may never know what it's like to discover a true, original property they can organically grow to love and cherish.
It's a vicious cycle; as long as we keep consuming these things, the more this industry will keep making them.
Hence why the upcoming TV season is going to feel like 1984, 1992, and 2000 all at once, thanks to new versions of Magnum P.I., Murphy Brown, Charmed, and Roswell -- as well as the continuation of the Roseanne saga, now called The Conners, and the new Will & Grace.
In other words, we have one TV season that will allow me to relive my childhood, adolescence, and college years -- simultaneously -- during any given week. (And that's not all: reboots of Bewitched, The Facts of Life, Designing Women, Rugrats, and Party of Five are currently in development.)
Consider me 38 going on 18.
August 09, 2018
This is one helluva #TBT.
I know I'm getting old when I catch myself listening to the music of my youth more often than I have before (even though I still pride myself on discovering new tunes on a regular basis, not necessarily what's on the radio).
So it makes sense that I threw together more than 100 songs from the 80s and 90s to help me escape some of the present-day shittiness of adulthood. This is my audio comfort food. This is my time machine taking me back to those days when one of my biggest concerns was whether or not the VCR would record the latest episode of The X-Files.
Needless to say, I will be adding more to this playlist in the upcoming weeks...
July 12, 2018
First thing’s first: Elsie Fisher is, at the risk of sounding trite, a revelation.
She is the young actress starring in writer-director Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade, a teen dramedy unlike any we’ve seen on the big screen in recent memory. It may also be the first (and best) movie about Gen Z that could very well resonate across all demos.
Fisher plays 13-year-old Kayla, a girl on the verge of a major transition: graduating from middle school to high school. And every awkward, humiliating, joyful, devastating, and mundane moment leading up to that is captured and conveyed with such gorgeous poignancy and tender nuance.
Burnham, mostly known for his stand-up and YouTube past, proves himself here as a keen observer of adolescent life in the late 2010s. Welcome to a world of sniffing markers, shooter drills (look out for a scene that is simultaneously funny, jawdropping, and heartbreaking), and adults pathetically attempting to dab and use words like “lit.”
It doesn’t take long to easily settle into Kayla’s world and realize just how much she is a product of it. She comes from a single-parent household (Josh Hamilton plays her dad to perfection). She mindlessly scrolls through Instagram, liking random posts, hoping to be liked back (a rabbit hole she often falls into, staged with a kaleidoscopic effect and a synth-dizzy score). She records weekly affirmations on YouTube that no one watches (a device brilliantly used to juxtapose her daily struggles at school). And all throughout, she so desperately wants to be cool...
Read more of my glowing review of a film that is easily falling into my Top 10 of 2018 so far - here.
June 27, 2018
For my 16th L.A.nniversary I thought I would be waxing nostalgic on the life I’ve created for myself in this city, reminiscing and reflecting on the moments that have brought me to this point in time – like I usually do. I thought I would be celebrating 16 years of surviving a city that tends to chew up and spit out those who have – let's say – a more delicate constitution.
But unfortunately, I’m not feeling that right now. There is something about the sociopolitical climate we’re currently living in that is inspiring more bitter than sweet within me. And, for other reasons I’ll likely disclose at a later time, I’m feeling a little…vent-y (not the Starbucks kind). I’m ignoring the advice of “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it.” That said, I’m sure I’ll look back on this someday and say to myself: Sheesh. Get the stick out of your ass, Mitsuzuka.
In other words, #sorrynotsorry for what you’re about to read...
As I reach this 16-year milestone, I’d like to share some of my own words of wisdom.
If I had any advice for young hopefuls planning to move to L.A. in order to pursue their dreams and passions – or pursue the hot piece of ass they met on Bumble or Grindr – it would be this:
Don't come here.
Seriously. Don't move to this city. We've already got plenty of folks scrambling to achieve a number of #careergoals, #bodygoals, #couplesgoals, and whatever other goals are currently being invented by some 20-year-old intern who wants to "make it" as an influencer.
Trust me. You'll only clog up more boulevards and freeways (and our infrastructure is already fragile as it is). You’ll only crowd more gyms – and the hiking trails at Runyon Canyon. You’ll only create a longer wait at that brunch place Eater said had “killer gluten-free French toast.” You’ll only further inundate our inboxes and news feeds with invites to see your stand-up comedy, your one-man show, your gallery opening, or a table read for that indie drama you co-wrote with the college friend you’ll eventually lose touch with once she books a pilot and leaves you with nothing but a side gig writing TV recaps for a website no one reads.
You are basically the reason why La Brea Avenue, Hollywood, and downtown have been dominated by state-of-the-art condominiums and countless housing developments, why rent is skyrocketing, and why no one can afford anything north of the 10 Freeway.
In fact, I'll go one step further and say this: stop dreaming. The industry you're hoping to break into is already at its most competitive. By the time you read this sentence, a thousand wide-eyed YouTubers and Instagram models from New York and the Midwest will have already arrived in town with plans to “dominate,” “get some exposure,” or “not take ‘no’ for an answer.”
Instead, move to another city that could use a boost in its economy. Go gentrify a neighborhood somewhere else where you can make a bigger splash, where you can get more recognition, where you can buy a three-bedroom house for the price of a studio in Silver Lake.
Sure, L.A. may look all glam and fabulous (and some of it is), but turn around, save your hard-earned money, and flourish in another place.
Don't come to Los Angeles. Really.
We’re good here. Thanks.
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