tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-331906622024-03-18T21:14:10.989-07:00The First EchoPop culture pundit. Copywriter. Entertainment journalist. Travel writer. Emmy winner.Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.comBlogger1127125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-7559437604207621972024-01-31T19:45:00.000-08:002024-02-04T22:03:04.355-08:0080 Hours in Tokyo: Sushi, Shrines and Samurai Robots<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfcqDeaMjdpZsev3IHzpkfWjJz4Qk7e7MfLwEhq4cX1zVPGsCIjmvEt0YtfotaxygWdFovUP9Pp4csSWpgQHigE09nZpCO4sovOUkYnFSkJOK5B9pqMFQaLHEJdPS2xzRQJd-W07aItE-GytIsajxNmajjxlK7s37doo4vRNbzDEOxFPXfrQeVA/s1254/tokyo-main.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="837" data-original-width="1254" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfcqDeaMjdpZsev3IHzpkfWjJz4Qk7e7MfLwEhq4cX1zVPGsCIjmvEt0YtfotaxygWdFovUP9Pp4csSWpgQHigE09nZpCO4sovOUkYnFSkJOK5B9pqMFQaLHEJdPS2xzRQJd-W07aItE-GytIsajxNmajjxlK7s37doo4vRNbzDEOxFPXfrQeVA/w640-h428/tokyo-main.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>A light drizzle was already falling when I was drawn to a glowing vending machine outside the terminal at Narita International. It was filled with an array of soft drinks, some of which I couldn’t pronounce. I was like a moth to a flame, and I needed something to quench my thirst after the eleven-hour flight from Los Angeles. I selected my first taste of Japan, a bottle of Pocari Sweat, a lemon-grapefruit-flavored water (think: Gatorade without the obnoxious colors and labels). It did the job as I boarded Narita’s “airport limousine,” a charter bus that would shuttle me and my friend Matt to the posh district of Ginza in downtown Tokyo.</span><span> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>The misty night air and glistening concrete, combined with the city’s inevitable neon signage, provided a neo-noir ambiance as we moved deeper into the capital city. It’s the kind of atmosphere usually associated with films like 2003’s</span><span> </span><i>Lost in Translation</i><span>, </span><span>the cherished Sofia Coppola film that conjured up for travelers a romanticized ideal of the mega metropolis, or any given</span><span> </span><i>yakuza</i><span> </span><span>saga in which danger lingers in the handshakes of shady businessmen and the tinted windows of town cars.</span><span> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><br /></span><span>It had been over a decade since I last visited Japan, and I was excited to experience the Land of the Rising Sun on my own – on my own time – with less family obligations. (<i>My last visit was spent mourning a grandmother I had gotten to know over a fifteen-year period</i>.) I had always wanted to return as an adult, to submerge myself in the culture of a country I had mostly learned about through tales of my father’s childhood and adolescence. Since half of my heritage originated from this island nation thousands of miles away from the western coast of America, I knew I wanted to have an experience I could fully appreciate, one that blended both the traditional and the modern into one, awe-inspiring package. <br /></span><span> <br /></span><span>After our transportation dropped us off at our designated stop, we managed to hail a taxi that zigzagged its way through the rainy Friday night traffic. It was a brief ride during which I started to envision the many possible adventures Tokyo promised. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtYwoc8SGrjQu6IAhveHd5nDKf0TuW3aRDMfE44M8aw9Yp7cOroZmZuuL_PKsUsesBOKjyEGm9yDpr_S3jwt5voDR4hU6zQYBNRGYw5BC6vQaMIHrp1nChW6F1ay0GhkD_MwLz_YbtAuaUtTcEitcSZ2Ama9QYcNcLEgOhnff4NH6M2bmWAmRw6A/s1024/54891550.jpg" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtYwoc8SGrjQu6IAhveHd5nDKf0TuW3aRDMfE44M8aw9Yp7cOroZmZuuL_PKsUsesBOKjyEGm9yDpr_S3jwt5voDR4hU6zQYBNRGYw5BC6vQaMIHrp1nChW6F1ay0GhkD_MwLz_YbtAuaUtTcEitcSZ2Ama9QYcNcLEgOhnff4NH6M2bmWAmRw6A/w640-h426/54891550.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Our accommodations for the next four nights, <b><a href="http://sunroute.jp/English" target="_blank">Hotel Sunroute Ginza</a></b>, came equipped with some nice amenities – <i>God bless whoever invented the bidet</i>. The boutique hotel was located within a few blocks from the best shopping in the city. Having opened in the summer of 2015, it’s the newest addition to the stylish Sunroute chain that caters to a variety of high-end travelers and business types. The Ginza location, with 165 rooms, covers all of the C’s: Comfortable, Compact, and Convenient. Our double-twin space wasn’t much larger than most college dorm rooms. (The word “pod” came to mind once we settled in for the first night.) <i>But this is Tokyo</i>, I told myself. Like Manhattan, square footage is a precious commodity here. And despite the absence of a closet, every inch within our room was meticulously designed for maximum functionality.</span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>The next three days consisted of some of the best sights and meals Tokyo had to offer. Within the first day, I was craving green tea-flavored everything. Lucky for me, I was in the capital of green tea-flavored everything: chocolate bars, lattes, truffles, ice cream, muffins – you name it.</span><br /><span> </span><br /><b><span>SATURDAY</span></b><br /><b><span> </span></b><br /><span>We met our English-speaking tour guide, Shioji, in the hotel lobby. She gave us a warm greeting and equipped us with some maps and brochures before we set off for our first destination: the <b><a href="http://tsukiji-market.or.jp" target="_blank">Tsukiji Fish Market</a></b>, a reasonable 15-minute walk from the hotel. Since we neglected to eat anything beforehand, we grabbed some breakfast at a small, nameless open-counter storefront frequented by some of the local fishermen. It’s the kind of non-descript haven that serves a hot meal and a warm smile, courtesy of the grandfatherly cook who also manages the register. We ordered <i>tonkatsu donburi</i>, a pork cutlet and fried egg over white rice and a bed of cabbage drizzled in a sweet brown sauce. I was immediately reminded of my father’s own spin on this particular recipe, a dish I often ate on weekends during my childhood back in New York. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjswcTBAGIIhZ5HUd5Tptqx3WnDIGBGv8AXc9XwIrOXa-Y7oA-cUNO8t34fJDG133qMnbg_83IrMSQLrycxG71T7AE6hOq2O5KBAHBbtG_-3z3sfW-durzvaB_FVOfOWYdBDb8kdgbKDAn7ZUQ4OriiBj_b6PyNnNIH-YaP0jj_TP1xI-3YxGnAQ/s1140/tsukiji-fish-market-tokyo-japan-1140-e1548420728672.webp" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="641" data-original-width="1140" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjswcTBAGIIhZ5HUd5Tptqx3WnDIGBGv8AXc9XwIrOXa-Y7oA-cUNO8t34fJDG133qMnbg_83IrMSQLrycxG71T7AE6hOq2O5KBAHBbtG_-3z3sfW-durzvaB_FVOfOWYdBDb8kdgbKDAn7ZUQ4OriiBj_b6PyNnNIH-YaP0jj_TP1xI-3YxGnAQ/w640-h360/tsukiji-fish-market-tokyo-japan-1140-e1548420728672.webp" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>After some much-needed sustenance, we wandered throughout the two main sections of the labyrinthine market. There’s the marketplace where one can buy the freshest catches of the day and sit down at one of the unbelievably crowded food stations for a mouthwatering meal (expect to wait in one of the many lines that snake around the block), and then there’s the massive open warehouse where one can get lost among the coolers of salmon heads and freshwater eels and carving blocks that are constantly being hosed down to accommodate the next shipment from the Pacific. Once we witnessed our umpteenth slab of tuna being buried in an icy grave, we felt the enormity of the entire operation that unfolded before us. A majority of Japan’s seafood passes through Tsukiji, and we were standing in the middle of an epicenter that smelled like a combination of saltwater and every fish imaginable. </span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>It eventually made me hungry for lunch.</span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>Next, a visit to the <b>Imperial Palace Gardens </b>proved to be a brief one. Expecting an up-close-and-personal experience (a la Buckingham Palace), we were disappointed to find out our views of the royal house and the remnants of the former Edo Castle were limited due to the surrounding moats and bridges overlooked by guards. Still, we were able to take in the beautifully manicure bamboo trees that populated the park and snack on juicy Japanese pears on benches near the restrooms where busloads of tourists took turns using the facilities.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9piPuVVnhsdeQkChTUL-LGdI9VX4XKoiYgEbsEDXMjuva53bK2FVvM0_mgvH8tKCqWKhyphenhyphend78ZM8rJf1wQkaCbJ6xhNf4iJCO9IiWhP6go-16y6stX4YRLwZg9niyjUVa5jbdG_DSr5QGAR_VmEy-_O4n44vM4Hpbq92g2kaoKGciN3hT3yNUjwA/s640/4033824_s.jpg" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9piPuVVnhsdeQkChTUL-LGdI9VX4XKoiYgEbsEDXMjuva53bK2FVvM0_mgvH8tKCqWKhyphenhyphend78ZM8rJf1wQkaCbJ6xhNf4iJCO9IiWhP6go-16y6stX4YRLwZg9niyjUVa5jbdG_DSr5QGAR_VmEy-_O4n44vM4Hpbq92g2kaoKGciN3hT3yNUjwA/w640-h428/4033824_s.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>From there, it was a 10-minute Metro ride to the neighborhood of <b>Asakusa</b> to take in the sights at <b><a href="http://senso-ji.jp" target="_blank">Senso-ji Temple</a></b>, the oldest in the city (said to have been built in 628). </span><span style="background: repeat white; color: #222222;">First of all, there are many ways to visit this sacred ground and appreciate its surroundings, but the standard is to start at the Kaminarimon Gate and move up through <b>Nakamise Shopping Street</b>, the large marketplace where we browsed several tourist-trapping souvenir shacks. But before heading in, we observed the two large figures that guarded the gate, a pair of intimidating deities, Fujin-sama (“god of wind”) and Raijin-sama (“god of thunder and lightning”). Good luck getting a good snapshot of either one; both are protected by wire netting, most likely to prevent birds and vandals from tarnishing them.</span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>A change in scenery was soon needed, so we hightailed it to <b>Harajuku</b>. The bright colors of this world-renown shopping district (and inspiration for Gwen Stefani’s 2004 album <i>Love. Angel. Music. Baby</i>.) may not appeal to anyone over 40, but it’s the ground zero of all things <i>Kawaii </i>(cute things). From accessory boutiques and patisseries to anime costumers and trendy sock shops, Harajuku was one giant sensory overload. One of the stores we visited, the two-floored <b>Body Line</b>, blared an album of remixed Disney theme songs. Somehow, hearing “Colors of the Wind” over a generic EDM beat inspired us to try on wacky sunglasses and an occasional neon wig. </span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>Finally, after being bombarded by the shouts of costumed shopgirls and the aromas of sweet and savory crepes, we tracked down an actual Harajuku girl (okay, <i>maybe stalked</i>) to take a photo with her like the clichéd, silly American tourists we were. Think of Rainbow Brite, throw in an anime warrior princess, multiply it with a dozen Hello Kitty dolls, and that’s just a fraction of what this young woman looked like.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTjuvm1BrSyoQtRuRDE3wXQmJ1JnIaRfFwb2clbeJn-jq5JdY5O57fgxOY2ZmsZy4HSvWmR9dP08uHRLBus3wQzY2pDhuQxFQIWjXZPOkm09FVxI-z2Q22KBRZSLL_Ks2HzMOWGq6Cp275bpYSWHiSjMEQtoNygzAYn5TOxnsXIGQkBDERIwNaNw/s1440/tokyo-shibuya-crossing-194379.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1440" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTjuvm1BrSyoQtRuRDE3wXQmJ1JnIaRfFwb2clbeJn-jq5JdY5O57fgxOY2ZmsZy4HSvWmR9dP08uHRLBus3wQzY2pDhuQxFQIWjXZPOkm09FVxI-z2Q22KBRZSLL_Ks2HzMOWGq6Cp275bpYSWHiSjMEQtoNygzAYn5TOxnsXIGQkBDERIwNaNw/w640-h426/tokyo-shibuya-crossing-194379.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>By that time, I wished I had worn a FitBit to see how much walking I had accomplished so far.</span><span> </span><b>Shibuya Crossing</b><span>, one of the largest pedestrian crosswalks in the world, was our next stop, and we managed to keep up with Shioji as she zigzagged through the massive yet orderly crowd. (Imagine New York’s Times Square mashed up with London’s Piccadilly Circus.) After one slightly wrong turn, we found some refreshments at</span><span> </span><b><a href="http://catmocha.jp" target="_blank">Mocha</a></b><span>, one of the city’s many popular “cat cafes.” In between cups of melon soda and iced mochas, we lounged and played with a dozen furry felines that strutted quietly around the picture-taking patrons. (Rule #1 of Cat Cafe: No sudden movements or running – because that would just be…bad.)</span><span> </span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>After our brief cat-tastic pit stop, night had fallen, and we said our goodnights to Shioji in Shibuya, thanking her for the day’s extensive sightseeing and wondering what the rest of the night would have in store for us. But at that point, neither of us had one iota of energy to carry on. After all, with the jet lag, we were running on four hours of sleep. So we made a beeline back to our hotel.</span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>Before completely passing out, we opted to stay close for dinner and tried <b>Villazza Due</b>, the “Italian restaurant” at Hotel Sunroute, where I enjoyed a nice bowl of fettucine topped with lamb smothered in a brown sauce that was both sweet and savory. (I’m using quotations here because this is far from the red-checkered-table-clothed eateries I’ve experienced in New York; <i>I’m sure there was no one named Vinny, Al, or Luigi cooking up a storm in the kitchen</i>.) *Sidenote: this place also turns into a traditional Japanese and Western breakfast buffet that serves everything from mini omelets and broiled fish to muffins and pickled radishes.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaw9BwF-KEBzAv7U54-WKNhKYfNwem9D4CPIiXa8HRXHXmU36ikCo3HScSoiHzo9KFTyFRKYBvBgCYmnr12LXHZ-rHSg1HFV4L8pEi_XfqqFgydiZZoMnffzJ_euW9eHAGzu41jWqYoBI_ZYrLnszsAQPl2gjkBKk5AoA3vdi65RIsCdwlX1haw/s1024/W2A4541-1024x600.jpg" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1024" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaw9BwF-KEBzAv7U54-WKNhKYfNwem9D4CPIiXa8HRXHXmU36ikCo3HScSoiHzo9KFTyFRKYBvBgCYmnr12LXHZ-rHSg1HFV4L8pEi_XfqqFgydiZZoMnffzJ_euW9eHAGzu41jWqYoBI_ZYrLnszsAQPl2gjkBKk5AoA3vdi65RIsCdwlX1haw/w640-h376/W2A4541-1024x600.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span>SUNDAY</span></b><br /><span> </span><br /><span>After grabbing a coffee and muffin from a nearby 7-Eleven – <i>they’re everywhere in Tokyo</i> – we strolled through Ginza with the very informative and patient Shioji. She led us past the Yonchome Intersection, known for its symbolic architecture and Wako Clock Tower, through massive electronics stores and tempting food stations, and into the <b>Tokyo International Forum</b>, a giant complex that houses exhibitions, concerts, and conventions. By the time we made it to <b>Shinjuku</b> (considered the skyscraper mecca of Japan) and snapped some photos in front of the world’s largest Hello Kitty monument at <b>Sanrio Gift Gate</b>, we were ready for some lunch. The top floor of the enormous and family-friendly <b>Takashimaya Store</b> boasted several dining options, and we ended up scarfing down bowls of rice topped with tuna sashimi and dried seaweed, miso soup, and several cups of hot green tea – a classic Japanese lunch to fuel us for the remainder of the jam-packed day.</span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>The afternoon passed by like blur. We captured several sumo wrestlers exiting the <b>Ryougoku Sumo Hall</b> on the final day of the wrestling season. We strolled along the pedestrian-friendly boulevard of <b>Akihabara</b>, the city’s “Electric Town,” known for its retailers that cater to electronic heads, anime and manga fanatics, and video game junkies. And I made several impulsive purchases in the forms of several miniature toy cars, a 30<sup>th</sup> anniversary edition Super Mario 8-bit figurine, and a CD single of “Halloween Night,” the latest hit from the super-sized girl group AKB48 (go ahead and YouTube them).</span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>As we neared the end of our time with Shioji, <b><a href="http://meijijingu.or.jp" target="_blank">Meiji Shrine</a></b> was our next notable spot to conquer. Located within 170 acres of evergreen forest in the middle of the city (in Shibuya, to be exact), the shrine is dedicated to the spirit of Emperor Meiji, his reign (1867-1912), and his wife, Empress Shoken. It is built on grounds that are now considered a place for recreation and relaxation. It’s a classic expression of Shinto, the indigenous faith of the Japanese that worships ancestors as guardians of a family. During our visit, we witnessed several wedding ceremonies, made a reflective offering at the central sanctuary where the emperor is enshrined, and observed the many people who left prayers on small wooden blocks in the main yard.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwm_IVHmGyyOMjXS9XfyTel3TKjp9pv1AqBXKTU7d5hCxzkIELD_M7wnbsNulMs_hlhsdR5oGrVMeFVNoiVByy-gU3-JcLGYpiEsLUD2-RTpzb2jduYpx3-S2eCKVrAh0TCNwP1hLjj4uXq4Fdwb3obe7QB1Eyt4Wg8a8Sx68OzlzDFp0UqrjVgA/s1200/tokyo_parco_di_ueno_01_introduzione_jpg_1200_630_cover_85.jpg" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwm_IVHmGyyOMjXS9XfyTel3TKjp9pv1AqBXKTU7d5hCxzkIELD_M7wnbsNulMs_hlhsdR5oGrVMeFVNoiVByy-gU3-JcLGYpiEsLUD2-RTpzb2jduYpx3-S2eCKVrAh0TCNwP1hLjj4uXq4Fdwb3obe7QB1Eyt4Wg8a8Sx68OzlzDFp0UqrjVgA/w640-h336/tokyo_parco_di_ueno_01_introduzione_jpg_1200_630_cover_85.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Then, it was off to <b>Ueno Park</b>, Japan’s most popular city park that houses over 8,000 trees (800 of which produce cherry blossoms in the spring), a small lake, and several museums. The <b><a href="http://tnm.jp" target="_blank">Tokyo National Museum</a></b>, the country’s oldest museum, was where we learned about the rise of Buddhism, the art of the tea ceremony (a painstaking process), Zen and ink paintings, what goes into samurai attire, and artwork created especially for folding screens and sliding doors. With more than 110,000 items, antiquities and national treasures, this place is a history junkie’s dream.</span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>By nightfall I reunited with my Japanese uncle, Shin, and my cousin, Aki, who treated us to a traditional <i>izakaya</i> dinner, “Japan’s friendliest form of dining,” which kicked off with top-grade sashimi and a small bottle of sake, followed by an array of fusion dishes that included broiled mackerel, rice, fried chicken, sautéed vegetables, miso soup, teriyaki chicken, and a slice of <i>raw horse meat</i>. (Think: the Japanese version of a tapas bar.)</span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>Heading back towards Shinjuku, we wandered into <b>Arty Farty</b>, a bar-club in the area known as Nichome and capped off the evening with some late-night sake shots and martinis while listening to a DJ spin some 90s house for a small dance floor of Sunday night stragglers. One cup of convenient store ice cream later (green tea-flavored, of course), and we were done for the day.</span><br /><span> </span><br /><b><span>MONDAY</span></b><br /><b><span> </span></b><br /><span>Our first day without our guide started with a breakfast that consisted of a McDonald’s sandwich (beef patty topped with a sunny-side-up egg, bacon, and that special sauce you usually find on Big Macs) with fries and a coffee. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdPVayuH-IkSHF-LBuFurruJYRhRuQS3RUXzK487w7Me1lwTqz-OgASgj5UfQKeNGbifduOtlOAXas6Awm8bTJhrFT2k3D6K1ojlIDDYQ92SqlrDU3BuYoPUiTfuPHlqXrEkymhLcBS7BHMkeiYcvytnwLZ-rUChA966lTHAoZ8OXqfmnbSvrjw/s832/3064_03.jpg" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="468" data-original-width="832" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdPVayuH-IkSHF-LBuFurruJYRhRuQS3RUXzK487w7Me1lwTqz-OgASgj5UfQKeNGbifduOtlOAXas6Awm8bTJhrFT2k3D6K1ojlIDDYQ92SqlrDU3BuYoPUiTfuPHlqXrEkymhLcBS7BHMkeiYcvytnwLZ-rUChA966lTHAoZ8OXqfmnbSvrjw/w640-h360/3064_03.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>It was enough to fuel me up for our main attraction of the day, <b><a href="http://tokyo-skytree.jp/en" target="_blank">Tokyo Skytree</a></b>, the world’s tallest freestanding tower (according to Guinness World Records). An architectural wonder that will be celebrating its thirteenth anniversary this year, the Skytree represents the many kinds of technologies and art that has been passed through generations. </span><span>Formed by steel and other flexible materials in a <i>shinbashira</i>, a vibration-controlling system very reminiscent of ancient wooden pagodas, the structure was created to withstand all forces of nature, particularly earthquakes and typhoon winds. Blue and purple lighting enhances the tower to convey both <i>iki</i>, the spirit of Edo, and <i>miyabi</i>, Japanese elegance. It is a true expression of the traditional and the modern coming together, creating a blended result for the present, a sentiment felt very much throughout Tokyo.</span><br /><span> </span><br /><span>Afterwards, we walked through Tokyo Skytown, the connecting mall that led us back to the Metro, and found a cafe for a little refreshment and respite. We needed it before facing one of the craziest dinner-theater experiences of our lives...</span><br /><span> </span><br /><span><b><a href="http://shinjuku-robot.com" target="_blank">Robot Restaurant</a> </b>was a subterranean entertainment venue in </span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); color: #1a1a1a;">Shinjuku’s Kabukicho district</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span> that incorporated large robotic floats, giant jungle animals, Samurai rockers, and Japanese showgirls into a story we couldn't quite follow. But the narrative wasn't what we came for. This show is all about over-the-top visuals and giving visitors a sensory overload. (NOTE: <i>This show has evolved into</i></span></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: inherit;"> a post-pandemic </span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); color: #1a1a1a; font-style: italic;">format.</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-style: italic;">According</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: inherit;"><i> to </i>Time Out</span></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); color: #1a1a1a; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic;">, Robot Restaurant has turned into a daytime show in 2023, </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); color: #1a1a1a; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic;">taking over <a href="https://giragiragirls.com/reserve/" rel="noopener" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--timeOut);" target="_blank">Gira Gira Girls</a>, an adult cabaret club, </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); color: #1a1a1a; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic;">during the venue's closing hours</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); color: #1a1a1a; font-family: inherit;"><i>. However, the venue's website states that the Robot Restaurant show will not contain any adult content. Due to the nature of the venue, entry is also restricted to those aged 18 and above</i>.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PgS1ZSi8ccu55dsZdeT_Ms63fiwg6PrzfZ4xl-HousO-eNntcJ8BKYCbkI5_G4A1FF32MBQdlR-I0zrjo1JHKSuB0rFenkvoKpOZpBoJa-35lJ7up_OTy9ZvtwE35aOpz-p9nsGUAc15ZVBhZcqlRG8HLWuQezHF7elKsk7hWsD-ChyphenhyphendkhKYIA/s1200/612664395a40232133447d33247d3832393136333639.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PgS1ZSi8ccu55dsZdeT_Ms63fiwg6PrzfZ4xl-HousO-eNntcJ8BKYCbkI5_G4A1FF32MBQdlR-I0zrjo1JHKSuB0rFenkvoKpOZpBoJa-35lJ7up_OTy9ZvtwE35aOpz-p9nsGUAc15ZVBhZcqlRG8HLWuQezHF7elKsk7hWsD-ChyphenhyphendkhKYIA/w640-h336/612664395a40232133447d33247d3832393136333639.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Since Robot Restaurant didn't provide much of a meal – popcorn, potato chips, and Asahi beer were on the menu – we trekked back to Shibuya to partake in a sushi lover’s paradise at<b> </b><a href="http://genkisushi.co.jp" style="font-weight: bold;" target="_blank">Uobei</a>. Dinner consisted of tuna, eel, salmon, cuttlefish, inari, baked scallop rolls, tamago (sweet egg), miso soup, and two melon sodas, </span>all served on a high-tech, high-speed conveyor belt.<br /><span> </span><br /><span>As we capped off our last night with some green tea ice cream, we reflected on our time in Tokyo, a city that has so much more to explore and experience. It is a place known for embracing both the traditional and the modern, blending elements of the past with present-day sensibilities. It is a fascinating, beautiful intersection where history and the future seem to coexist; the proof is everywhere you go. And as we packed our bags to embark on the next leg of our Asian adventure, I had a feeling that I would return, ready to learn more, embrace more, and discover more about a culture to which I will always be connected.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><br /></span><span><i>This article originally appeared in</i></span><i> </i><a href="https://bellomag.com" target="_blank">Bello Mag </a><i>as</i><span face="-webkit-standard"> "</span><i>The Tokyo Diaries" </i><i>in 2015.</i></span></div><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-90240397125543185022023-12-22T20:45:00.000-08:002023-12-22T20:56:32.602-08:00HOUSE OF MITSUZUKA: The 2024 Winter Playlist<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyK97rAxX4gPq_jpRlW9AZbI-jTM0WolvWmS7R7QUfnYsIOXbFYJXLtoEDW4isrlF2hzIMnk6CQzGWVdLUigPJR5q3smSCmjxhE-FlsSy8rDLuNE9sO1zkHnhOJu_zlbrYNfrhG56ul_KnNtJyzVklxEcnmPmrj5Wn-a3jmSdVImqvDvTywhA7cg/s1284/IMG_2869.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1284" data-original-width="1284" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyK97rAxX4gPq_jpRlW9AZbI-jTM0WolvWmS7R7QUfnYsIOXbFYJXLtoEDW4isrlF2hzIMnk6CQzGWVdLUigPJR5q3smSCmjxhE-FlsSy8rDLuNE9sO1zkHnhOJu_zlbrYNfrhG56ul_KnNtJyzVklxEcnmPmrj5Wn-a3jmSdVImqvDvTywhA7cg/w640-h640/IMG_2869.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>The weather outside may be frightful, but this playlist is so delightful. </p><p>A new year deserves new music to love. And I'm bracing myself for 2024 with these tunes from artists you know (Kylie, Dua, Troye), those you ought to know (meet Jamie Hannah and Slayyyter), and those you forgot about (Sophie Ellis-Bextor! Artful Dodger!).</p><p>Get moving. Get vibing. Get on it. </p><p>
</p><center><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="352" loading="lazy" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/5lKDX3ofhPyB7e0FO2Cwab?utm_source=generator" style="border-radius: 12px;" width="100%"></iframe></center>
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@TheFirstEcho</i></p><p></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-11029788586327345822023-11-14T18:43:00.000-08:002023-11-15T11:17:30.432-08:00In The Grieving: Confessions of a Mourning Son<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94m84Lep424Aoy7jcy0aEGUv24BIGhM6Y4y3q082UGGWvR3iU-Cc0npSkrFN7sQlYruUa294u6wuaM0PcrbYYmLA36JU7bpDR-LVMBijzVC-YxuN1U39sNFoRrbGI-Rs9N3EWN7-hOJFwWIz0DC9mfKGwgZCwoHtXe5BQRlrv8N1A-S7Hs16CWg/s1382/Obachan&Papa.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1382" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94m84Lep424Aoy7jcy0aEGUv24BIGhM6Y4y3q082UGGWvR3iU-Cc0npSkrFN7sQlYruUa294u6wuaM0PcrbYYmLA36JU7bpDR-LVMBijzVC-YxuN1U39sNFoRrbGI-Rs9N3EWN7-hOJFwWIz0DC9mfKGwgZCwoHtXe5BQRlrv8N1A-S7Hs16CWg/w640-h494/Obachan&Papa.png" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>"Grief is not a problem to be solved; it is an experience to be carried."</b> </p><p style="text-align: center;">– Megan Devine, <i>It's OK That You're Not OK</i></p><p>It all starts, oddly enough, with a PDF.</p><p>On the morning of September 3, 2021, I opened my laptop and revisited a digital document that was minimized to the bottom corner of my screen. I left it there the night before, a reminder of the new reality I was about to experience, a world in which my father would no longer be with us. I was asked to sign this PDF so that my father could be removed from his hospital room and begin hospice care after suffering a massive stroke one month earlier, which was one month after he lived through through a heart attack. It was a simple piece of paper that held so much power over me. </p><p>Four days later, at 5:30 AM on September 7, my mother and I received the dreaded call, one of those Worst Phone Calls Ever you always hear about. My father had passed minutes earlier. </p><p>Those previous four days were heavy with an emotional weight I had never felt before. There weren't enough thoughts and prayers to ease us from the inevitable. And I don't know which is worse – the waiting period during which you watch your father slowly drift away, or the aftermath, when it finally happens. Using the word "relief" doesn't feel appropriate because that would imply a release of stress, a weight lifted, something to get over. I will never get over this. </p><p>After seeing countless others lose a parent as you get older, you brace yourself for what it may feel like when it happens to you. Now, for the first time in my life, I have become a member of a club that no one ever wants to join. I truly know what a heavy heart feels like. </p><p>The man who emigrated from Japan in 1977 to start a new life at the age of 25 – the man who lived and breathed golf, who taught me how to ride a bike and ice skate, who inadvertently introduced me to the novels of Dean Koontz and instilled in me an adventurous appetite and palate – was physically no longer with us. It hurt. It sucked. It was surreal. </p><p>I've heard many things about grief, and they're all true. There's so much nuance to it, so many dimensions to it, and for a while, I have felt the need to articulate this miserable, chaotic, and numbing experience in the best way possible so that some people can understand it a bit more while others can feel like they're not going crazy when faced with such an emotionally (and physically) draining hardship. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXzIXIDZ_rwwEZfhDRnR__pPnHDW7YPcqSOb7c_UNU3_eYXJdp9IMkeXuUkA83Srdif6X-tdvKsMUkRug0w_g0uEoWRyltCWeiHORGpWt43AOc2LUEN26DqCf5JT-1BNJt3rZosbMoh_iFrGeofa3qRcq10GM_QEjesvzmZXMXPxg7qyEOvMusQ/s974/Papa.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="974" data-original-width="828" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXzIXIDZ_rwwEZfhDRnR__pPnHDW7YPcqSOb7c_UNU3_eYXJdp9IMkeXuUkA83Srdif6X-tdvKsMUkRug0w_g0uEoWRyltCWeiHORGpWt43AOc2LUEN26DqCf5JT-1BNJt3rZosbMoh_iFrGeofa3qRcq10GM_QEjesvzmZXMXPxg7qyEOvMusQ/w340-h400/Papa.jpg" width="340" /></a></div>Over the years I have read and heard, anecdotally, about the grieving process. I was always curious about it because I knew it was, like most rites of passage, unavoidable. <i>Death and taxes and all that crap, right? </i>The main lesson I've learned so far (and I say "so far" because it is ongoing) is that grief never goes away. You simply learn to live with it. The wave metaphor is an accurate one – it comes, sometimes when you least expect it, and then it goes. Most of the time it will come out of nowhere. One moment I am attempting to numb my mind with a few episodes of <i>The Golden Girls</i>, and the next, I am sobbing on my couch for three solid minutes. <p></p><p>Of course, the process is different for different people. Like snowflakes, those sensitive drops of precipitation, no two are alike. I can only describe what it was like for me. And now, having had two years to sit with my feelings and thoughts and everything else that comes with losing a parent, this is what I have found...</p><p>There is an immediate numbness when it happens. The morning we said our final goodbye to my father, my mother and I left the hospital and stopped for breakfast at a diner. We barely spoke as we waited for our plates of pancakes. I didn't know what the rest of our day was supposed to look like, what we were supposed to do. I remember looking around the restaurant, watching other families enjoy their meals, smiling, chatting, casually going about their morning. A part of me wanted to go up to their tables and politely ask them tone down their happiness. <i>"Excuse me, but my father just died, and I would love it if you could acknowledge my misery, finish your bacon, and shut the fuck up."</i></p><p>Then, soon after, your life doesn't resemble your life anymore. The grief is so raw, so present, you don't know what anything means anymore. </p><p>There is a list of tasks you're suddenly faced with. I went into "worker mode," knowing there was probably more to prepare and accomplish than we anticipated. In hindsight, I think it was a way to distract myself, keeping myself busy with items I had to cross off my to-do list. Family had to be notified, both here in the States and across the Pacific in Japan. Then, credit card companies had to be called. Financial accounts had to be updated. Subscriptions had to be cancelled. This was just the tip of the Grief Iceberg. </p><p>My thoughts turned dark. I thought about him, particularly his body, cold and alone in a morgue, not treated like a person but some kind of empty vessel. My thoughts turned bitter. I hated the world; a glance at any given news headline told me that it was quickly swirling down the drain, that humans should give up on a future for this planet. </p><p>Then there are the inappropriate thoughts. <i>What if I were to take a selfie with the urn? </i>I asked myself when I pulled up to the crematorium where I picked up his ashes that had been shoveled into a clear plastic bag, placed in a black plastic urn (a starter urn, if you will), and packaged in a cardboard shipping box. The death certificate was folded into an envelope, taped to the box. Sixty-nine years of a life relegated to this. </p><p>I placed the box on the passenger seat, and before heading back to my mother's house (I no longer call it my parents' house), I drove myself to the nearest AMC theater to catch a matinee of <i>Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings</i>. (I will forever associate this Marvel movie with the day I picked up my father's cremains.) I thought about bringing him in with me, placing him on the seat next to me, because I have so many memories of my father taking me to weekend matinees as a kid in New York, but that would have been too weird. I went in alone and attempted to escape into a superhero fantasy for two-and-a-half hours, wondering if he would have enjoyed the movie. Then the credits rolled, and I walked into the humid Florida air and into a new reality I dreaded. </p><p>Then there is guilt, arriving in relentless questions: Am I grieving enough? Should I be crying every day for the first two weeks? Should I be doing more? Is it okay that I treat myself to a day at an art museum or another matinee? What will happen if I go a day without thinking about him? Will I ever experience such a day? </p><p>But soon, as the days wear on, there is also gratitude. After feeling overwhelmed by the love and support that came through calls, texts, and social media comments, my tears of grief turned into tears of gratitude. </p><p>My next visitor is doubt, a cousin of guilt. I think about the hospital where he breathed his last breath. I am suddenly inundated with an avalanche of more questions. Did the doctors and nurses do everything they could? Did he really get the help and treatment and attention he should've received? Did I have enough quality time with him this year? Should I have gone to Florida sooner? Could my presence have made a difference?</p><p>There is frustration. I don't need to be told that this "happened for a reason" and that I will come through this as a better person. I didn't need this. I didn't <i>need</i> to be reminded about how precious life is. I didn't <i>need</i> this life lesson to help me transform into a more caring person. <i>I'm already caring and loving goddamit</i>. I already knew that pain like this existed in the world, that we live in a random universe filled with injustices. I already knew all of this. </p><p>The frustration evolves into anger. I ask myself, "Why does my mother need this additional suffering after enduring eighteen months of a global pandemic and all the emotional and physical hardships that came with it?" <i>Why the fuck did this have to happen? </i>I'm angry at random strangers on the street; I see them lining up for Starbucks and want them to feel my pain as they reach for their cold brews and step into the sunshine. I'm angry at the one friend who never reached out or reacted to my posts about my father – not even a simple response with an emoticon. I'm angry and sink deeper, reliving the heartbreak I experienced after being dumped just days before lockdown, isolating me into a single, loveless quarantine bubble, and even though it was a while ago, it left me with feelings of utter loneliness. I'm angry at the assholes who didn't wear a mask in the supermarket after seeing the ER at my father's hospital overrun with unvaccinated COVID patients. I'm angry at the lack of empathy and the rise of stupidity and entitlement in this country. I'm angry that I'm angry.</p><p>But with that anger and frustration comes understanding. I understand that we as a culture and society do not know how to manage and talk about this kind of pain and grief. I understand that it can be uncomfortable for my friends to talk to me about what I am going through, especially those who have not lost a parent, because it forces them to think about the pain and heartache they will have to face at some point in their lives. I understand that my pain will never go away, that there is no such thing as "stages of grief." Grief is not something to be ended or cured; I will carry it with me, and while most days will be good, some will be not good. </p><p>There is a hyperawareness. With my father's death came the births of several babies within my family and my circle of friends. I only thought this happened in movies and TV shows, a dramatic narrative device used to demonstrate the irony or dichotomy of the human condition. I get it. I see it. <i>Life goes on, blah, blah, blah</i>...</p><p>There is exhaustion. There are only so many times I can answer the question "How are you doing?" I was already answering this question as we were coming out the pandemic, but now I have to add another layer to this response. While I appreciate the sentiment and the check-ins, perhaps I'll send a link to what I've written here to cover all ground. I am also generally tired. Sometimes getting out of bed is an achievement I treat with the same fervor as walking three miles. </p><p>And with this exhaustion comes neglect. I neglected to start sorting through my father's things, his clothes, his golf equipment, all of his papers and items that have been relegated to an assortment of boxes, folders, and drawers. What will we do with all of it? It involves so much research, packing, and <i>effort</i>. No one ever talks about processing all of the minutiae of a life that is no longer a life. </p><p>I neglected to keep up with my pop cultural duties, something people have come to expect from me. I missed jumping on the <i>Squid Game</i> bandwagon. I didn't know when I would get to finish the last James Bond movie. (<i>My father loved the franchise and would hum the theme song whenever he spotted an Aston Martin on the road</i>.) I neglected to write more chapters of my novel. I neglected to eat well – there isn't a flavor of potato chip I haven't inhaled while driving home from the supermarket. </p><p>There is an onslaught of nostalgia in the form of old photos my father kept hidden away in drawers in his den, the old home videos we dig out of boxes that were never unpacked when my parents moved to Florida six years ago, and the golf shirts that remain on hangers in his closet. The memories sometimes come out of nowhere. I brush my teeth, and I am randomly reminded of the time he took me to see <i>The Hand That Rocks The Cradle</i> on a cold Saturday afternoon in the Bronx when I was eleven, sparking my obsession with psychological thrillers. I stop to fill up the gas tank in his 2014 Honda CR-V that I inherited and brought back with me to LA (after losing my own car in a freak accident), and my mind flashes to the time he took me ice skating at the Hommocks Rink in Mamaroneck, New York. There are so many triggers. A Spotify playlist shuffles to Mary J. Blige's "Everything," and I am transported to the weekend we drove through upstate New York to tour colleges in his white Toyota Camry, its multi-disc player loaded with the CD single I bought for the trip.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPwdTnxg0Qc1RGeVuHrQiqtb0i6lhCOf4AsPxn-csVrR5keLVyDrt8R0mzRagjT0ugTXqmWcKDKxqE3waZNDRac_9aBxdzLRsaoWRmQMLJkm02JYilZhZL7yFipdjKER3GoKrtCKOrncsJvAb1kPCrXuymNCcOhke-WVqdD_swYbnLoxxXo19IQ/s2048/JapanGravesite.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPwdTnxg0Qc1RGeVuHrQiqtb0i6lhCOf4AsPxn-csVrR5keLVyDrt8R0mzRagjT0ugTXqmWcKDKxqE3waZNDRac_9aBxdzLRsaoWRmQMLJkm02JYilZhZL7yFipdjKER3GoKrtCKOrncsJvAb1kPCrXuymNCcOhke-WVqdD_swYbnLoxxXo19IQ/w300-h400/JapanGravesite.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRAMRlg8GsDgGkyL9nAGZQKQmfG2LYIf2RpYTDZ6Jb9I6ufDYg0h8u9uXeY91weOax0Npt5qNtliq9LAx657r6sPykPIjHFXsTMg6-6q3hoBZbm4ak-PD_ST3MdvLWzyRKLTNYrYGtxbHLW8gOjOJqTy8Qsk400FBgLfL_4Bu1c1DgDPj2h1iVA/s2048/310485239_10160310108289074_5328682193531434934_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRAMRlg8GsDgGkyL9nAGZQKQmfG2LYIf2RpYTDZ6Jb9I6ufDYg0h8u9uXeY91weOax0Npt5qNtliq9LAx657r6sPykPIjHFXsTMg6-6q3hoBZbm4ak-PD_ST3MdvLWzyRKLTNYrYGtxbHLW8gOjOJqTy8Qsk400FBgLfL_4Bu1c1DgDPj2h1iVA/w300-h400/310485239_10160310108289074_5328682193531434934_n.jpg" width="300" /></a><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then, one year after his death, there is the extraordinary experience of honoring his memory in Japan, carrying half of his ashes with me, reuniting with our family there, and restarting the grieving process (another story for another time). I got to see places where he grew up, I got to hear stories from his cousins and childhood friends, and I got to eat some of his favorite meals. I also got emotional, holding back tears as I sat next to my uncle Shin because I saw so much of my father in his older brother, his only sibling. </div><p>Then there is something called "anticipatory grief." I now look at my mother, who must deal with her own health issues, and I try to mentally brace myself for another round of inevitability, try to manage my feelings as I resist the idea of a world in which I will no longer be called someone's son, especially as an only child. It is an emotional quicksand I find myself falling into every now and then. But I have Lore, the grief counselor I met in Florida who has been a much-needed source of support. She is one of several angels at the <a href="https://tidewellfoundation.org/donate/" target="_blank">Tidewell Family Grief Center</a> who tirelessly work to help those grieving navigate a world that has been forever changed for them. And there are so many who grieve every day. There is so much pain out there. </p><p>With all of the above, there is finally a renewed sense of purpose. I know my mother and I will get through this. I know I will cherish every moment I still have with her. I know I will laugh again – that's what old sitcoms from my youth are for. I know I will continue to surround myself with loved ones, hang out with friends, enjoy their company, and have a good time. I know I will emerge from these last two years a little bit stronger, more patient, and more understanding. I know I will continue to appreciate, be thankful for, and bask in the love I have finally found when I least expected it (<i>Happy Anniversary, babe</i>). </p><p>And I know I will keeping honoring my grief, because it is, someone once told me, the emotional state of unexpressed love. </p><p>Which means I'll need to make sure I express that love more. And I hope, after you've read this, you will too. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>@TheFirstEcho</i></div>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-23429304295385585592023-10-31T16:18:00.001-07:002023-10-31T16:18:42.206-07:00'Trick 'r Treat' Turns 15-ish: Writer-Director Michael Dougherty Reflects on the Halloween Cult Classic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdZzD-CAnq3ZFq04VRaxnDUIpNm9LHGdh7TnITNivrLPxURDZIog8toA96t-u1nM6y4uqf4_oMdV0g-ktQX_L_FAe4vHT5fUDMH6aFVc030WI8aWYl2_pV0Rak68mwTE-kVKXi6DfpbrKNuanucHuQXe6hgj4qqIkdDkEGuGKySk4aF_Hk672_Q/s1200/Trick-R-Treat-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdZzD-CAnq3ZFq04VRaxnDUIpNm9LHGdh7TnITNivrLPxURDZIog8toA96t-u1nM6y4uqf4_oMdV0g-ktQX_L_FAe4vHT5fUDMH6aFVc030WI8aWYl2_pV0Rak68mwTE-kVKXi6DfpbrKNuanucHuQXe6hgj4qqIkdDkEGuGKySk4aF_Hk672_Q/w640-h360/Trick-R-Treat-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Earlier this month I had the geeky pleasure of attending a screening of <i><a href="https://youtu.be/NJ66Htmmq4M" target="_blank">Trick 'r Treat</a></i> at the Landmark Westwood, part of Scary Perri's Horror Series, hosted by <i>Collider</i>'s Perri Nemiroff. The film, starring Anna Paquin, Brian Cox, and Dylan Baker, was released to little fanfare in the late 00s but has grown a strong fanbase over the years. Sam, the mysterious, child-like figure who acts as the narrative thread throughout the movie's four distinct storylines, has become a popular Halloween mascot, popping up in costume shops and holiday decorations throughout the past decade. </p><p>The movie infamously went through development hell and experienced a bizarre and sporadic theatrical release, starting with a 2007 screening at Harry Knowles's Butt-Numb-a-Thon film festival in Austin and continuing at other events like LA's Screamfest, where I saw the movie for the first time in 2008. (It finally came out on DVD and Blu-ray in 2009.) Why it never received proper distribution from Warner Bros. has been debated and discussed ever since.</p><p>After the screening, journalist Perri Nemiroff sat down with the film's writer-director, Michael Dougherty (<i>Superman Returns</i>, <i>Godzilla: King of the Monsters</i>), for a Q&A that covered lots of behind-the-scenes tidbits while attempting to satisfy fan speculation about its sequel.</p><p>Warning: the following contains plot spoilers.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKLu_KN89gNak866ChZrNNc1767LLHiAJa9NUh1cLhem0zI7K29HrF74yJozQWFa2GnMGxacnLnBNV7pqtMwtb6aNb6Vrtc1CPaKIpyHkiMQvl9C_NqpOY4HZZvnvQcATq6pMVmlQCZnv4WsfDciPnoy2lQaABSiFUyAy24D0-7Yb_gM5QfVBaw/s1202/PerriMike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="942" data-original-width="1202" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKLu_KN89gNak866ChZrNNc1767LLHiAJa9NUh1cLhem0zI7K29HrF74yJozQWFa2GnMGxacnLnBNV7pqtMwtb6aNb6Vrtc1CPaKIpyHkiMQvl9C_NqpOY4HZZvnvQcATq6pMVmlQCZnv4WsfDciPnoy2lQaABSiFUyAy24D0-7Yb_gM5QfVBaw/w640-h502/PerriMike.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><b>1. <i>Trick 'r Treat </i>was intended to be an anthology. </b>"In the original draft," Dougherty said, "the stories were completely self-contained...There weren't even that many overlapping, intertwining moments, because what I had done was take four short stories I had written in college and sort of mashed them up...The original was much more of a traditional anthology."</p><p><b>2. Sam was originally a cartoon.</b> The movie's central villain started as a character in an animated short Dougherty created called <i>Season's Greetings</i>. "All hand-drawn, old-school, cell animation. No computers were involved." For the movie, he "sprinkled him in, like the Cryptkeeper." </p><p><b>3. The rock quarry story originally took place in a cemetery. </b>"The original ending was: you found out that the group of kids lured the one girl to the cemetery to play Ghost in the Graveyard," Dougherty explained, "only to find out that they lured here there because she was actually dead and she forgot that she was dead. It's not a terrible twist, but this was coming on the heels of <i>The Sixth Sense</i> and <i>The Others</i>, and so I realized that the twist of 'Surprise! You're really dead!' was sort of a trope at that point."</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1AUYt7w3MGxwTZBML1myqowB8m3VM8dp5_7gS6-j4n1_5WJiVeLdrwNZmI-Cr_OZ4uuDfQ1ScICHk6Bs4SDdC0OsILnRBH9grmmNqvAl-AECN8uW2s0G7jPAAGBEQhcyDOkRRNNNyzsrt6trMBwHeQBUyIYwGEtUaqZfG5RH8wS5Jpl1JSZoUzg/s2016/image1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1AUYt7w3MGxwTZBML1myqowB8m3VM8dp5_7gS6-j4n1_5WJiVeLdrwNZmI-Cr_OZ4uuDfQ1ScICHk6Bs4SDdC0OsILnRBH9grmmNqvAl-AECN8uW2s0G7jPAAGBEQhcyDOkRRNNNyzsrt6trMBwHeQBUyIYwGEtUaqZfG5RH8wS5Jpl1JSZoUzg/w300-h400/image1.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><b>4. The werewolf pack wasn't originally all-female.</b> "It was a co-ed pack, male and female," the writer-director revealed. "But I thought it would be way more interesting...because you never see female werewolves, hardly ever, you know, outside of like <i>Ginger Snaps</i>. Female werewolves are just an anomaly."<p></p><p><b>5. Dougherty wasn't originally attached to direct. </b>Stan Winston, Tobe Hooper, George Romero, and <i>Halloween</i> helmer himself John Carpenter were all in the running to take on each of the movie's four vignettes. Carpenter needed some convincing though. "I had to go to The Egyptian, and he was doing a screening of <i>The Thing</i>," Dougherty recalls, "and we had the same agent, and the agent said, 'Okay, well, you have to go meet with Carpenter while the movie's running and talk to him about your script. And I'm just trembling, terrified. It's like 'Go meet with God and convince him to work with you.'" </p><p><b>6. Dead on Arrival:</b> Dougherty eventually assembled "the Avengers of horror directors, and nobody in town wanted to buy it. Like every studio passed on it. Not every studio, but I remember one key note we got was, 'Nobody wants to see vampires, werewolves, or zombies because they're too old-fashioned.'"</p><p><b>7. The Dawn of a New Halloween Icon</b>. "I just got back from Salem, Massachusetts for the first time," Dougherty said, "and I'm walking around and talking to somebody on the phone, and I turn around and I see Michael Myers and Sam get out of a car together and then hold hands along down the down the street."</p><p><b>8. Sam Unmasked!</b> The writer-director described the figure's scary face as "a mashup between a pumpkin and a baby skull. Baby skulls are so cute!"</p><p><b>9. No one knows Sam's origin story. </b>When asked if Sam is immortal (Could anything kill him?), the director wouldn't answer. "Leaning towards immortal," he finally said. "Actually one thing I'll give you: I like to think that...in my mind, he dies every November 1, but with the help of certain others, certain seeds or guts are retained so that he grows back every October."</p><p><b>10. Get on the bus! </b>Two versions of the shortbus in the Halloween School Bus Massacre storyline were used. An actual bus was shot driving into the rock quarry and going over the cliff, but a miniature was used in the seamless shot in which the bus appears to sink in the water. "That miniature is on display at the Mystic Museum in Burbank if you want to see it," Dougherty offered. </p><p><b>11. Rain, rain, go away:</b> Shooting the movie in Vancouver in late fall and early winter, its wettest season, was a challenge, especially when the script called for a sunny autumn day during the School Bus Massacre vignette, but some unexpected magic happened. "Out of the blue," Dougherty remembers, "the skies cleared, the sun came out, and we got to shoot everything. And then I called 'cut,' and it started raining again."</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVQ4Ki0B7MnvQNaKv-KIAt_4bZ9LDIVteG2GS45OJ5d92Lhac0OcvCtTCA5pIt3y4GgYNtrRjAHj6D6SThOpfbom9JL2z8LyYW7-92L3mWO_UkmfpgYR1jADG-EVXHkVIrNmgPzeZrw_AZMVm3TiB25ie0gSuMggnI4xf0xgyNhQKi0vEU9YE6Q/s2016/image0.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVQ4Ki0B7MnvQNaKv-KIAt_4bZ9LDIVteG2GS45OJ5d92Lhac0OcvCtTCA5pIt3y4GgYNtrRjAHj6D6SThOpfbom9JL2z8LyYW7-92L3mWO_UkmfpgYR1jADG-EVXHkVIrNmgPzeZrw_AZMVm3TiB25ie0gSuMggnI4xf0xgyNhQKi0vEU9YE6Q/w300-h400/image0.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><b>12. Brian Cox had one request for his character. </b>The <i>Succession</i> actor asked that he physically resemble the filmmaker who introduced Michael Myers to the world. "He saw it (the movie), rightfully, as sort of in the tradition of <i>Halloween</i>, like he knew that there would be no <i>Trick 'r Treat</i> if it wasn't for John Carpenter. So I think he wanted to pay tribute to the master, so he went off to work with a make-up artist to come up with a hook nose and a scar and scraggily hair and all of that. And then he learned to regret it because it took him hours to apply all that stuff, and so when we finally wrapped him, he literally reached up and started ripping the fake skin off of his face saying 'Never again! Never again!' <p></p><p><b>13. The sequel is...on its way? </b>"What I'll say is this," Dougherty started. "The sequel is in active development with Legendary. I'll go so far as to say that we have several drafts of a script. I brought back the same storyboard artist...and a good stack of concept art as well. So, it's inching along. Hoping to talk to Legendary. They've been wonderful, like great collaborators, but so much of it is timing, and as you know, we just got out of a strike, so the next step, fingers crossed, would be looking at budget, scheduling, and all the rest. But we have a really, really great script for a sequel."</p><p><i>@TheFirstEcho</i></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-30858410281488980622023-10-11T13:16:00.000-07:002024-02-14T13:56:39.775-08:00Suddenly Singapore: A Magical Must List<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKiYzy1sSbMAz-XXG6EhM4-6nARGlGbXmeDP1FZPh_h8XQ2EXnrRKUZq2x_NEFYctU-md6BXiadkDtquDqlNw6xjb33RLs-VEa8d6SH9agrPBjZ3vmGv9V41sHXW62BmNmXSGBlbjWXXKiwkw-DoQzLO4687nKJyJa4iXter3-ONetZ05Xz_1Wg/s3072/singapore-city_2x1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKiYzy1sSbMAz-XXG6EhM4-6nARGlGbXmeDP1FZPh_h8XQ2EXnrRKUZq2x_NEFYctU-md6BXiadkDtquDqlNw6xjb33RLs-VEa8d6SH9agrPBjZ3vmGv9V41sHXW62BmNmXSGBlbjWXXKiwkw-DoQzLO4687nKJyJa4iXter3-ONetZ05Xz_1Wg/w640-h320/singapore-city_2x1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Five years ago, </i><span class="markup--em markup--p-em">Crazy Rich Asians</span><i> reintroduced American audiences to Singapore, the island nation known for its futuristic skyline, </i></span><em class="markup--em markup--p-em">affluent avenues, and multicultural menus </em><em class="markup--em markup--p-em">(English, Chinese, Malay, and Tamil are the official languages here)</em><i style="font-family: inherit;">. Now approaching its 60th anniversary commemorating its independence from Malaysia in 1965, it's time to revisit my trip to the modern metropolis...</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; widows: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I had the privilege of being invited to stay at the </span>city’s “first luxury boutique hotel,” the <a href="https://thescarletsingapore.com" target="_blank">Scarlet Singapore</a>. S<span style="font-family: inherit;">ituated a block away from the bustling Chinatown and Little India districts, the hotel </span>promises an indulgent experience for visitors, having<span style="font-family: inherit;"> gone through a revamp that transformed all 75 guest rooms and five suites into a jewel-toned paradise. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; widows: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; widows: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The entrance, flanked by a watery portal, leads to the stunning lobby that’s decked out in Christian Lacroix velvet and multi-colored designer fabrics. The guest corridors are dressed in textured reds, purples, and fuchsia, adding to the intimate ambiance that runs throughout the rest of the property. Our “premium” room was ensconced in a full-bodied matte gold with subtle mix of orange, topaz, and chartreuse, an ornate headboard made of luxe black velvet, draperies with elegant trimmings, and a chaise lounge perfect for decompressing after a full day of walking throughout the city.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; widows: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; widows: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGAbcPTKqQeW7_ooYY9aV0ekMjoup3LwxXyK2-Wv0HEkTwTqUwmbn-Y5KLYgmyx9GXCdLwHeci4CTckmAGcVdddCvCANE9emcg7zEUHUAPRWbUK13GiwwHzX6I4ksysmv0UOkAVEeYMgPwHHmd93sTBrLz06Y5N1s91kuSmONMegIYI2HFh6H8QA/s1600/17.-Premium-Room-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="1600" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGAbcPTKqQeW7_ooYY9aV0ekMjoup3LwxXyK2-Wv0HEkTwTqUwmbn-Y5KLYgmyx9GXCdLwHeci4CTckmAGcVdddCvCANE9emcg7zEUHUAPRWbUK13GiwwHzX6I4ksysmv0UOkAVEeYMgPwHHmd93sTBrLz06Y5N1s91kuSmONMegIYI2HFh6H8QA/w640-h280/17.-Premium-Room-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; widows: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; widows: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If the chaise lounge doesn't work, there's always SODA, the open-air Jacuzzi patio where you can soak and recharge, or FLAUNT, the fittingly named fitness center where</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> cardio chasers and weight trainers can work on their bodies.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; widows: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><p class="graf graf--p" name="c03e">As tempting as the Scarlet’s amenities were, I knew I had a lot more to cover and experience. And here is where I netted out…</p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">THE SINGAPORE TO-DO LIST: A 3-Day Guide</span></b></h2><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>1.</b> Stand across the street from the </span><b style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;"><a href="https://www.marinabaysands.com" target="_blank">Marina Bay Sands</a></b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;"> and marvel at the awe-inspiring, futuristic architecture of the resort’s three towers and connecting rooftop bar-restaurant-pool-garden.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>2.</b> Take an elevator to the top and try a honey rose daiquiri at <b>Ce La Vi</b>, the hotel’s rooftop bar.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>3.</b></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;"> Surpass the lines at Universal Studios on </span><b style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">Sentosa Island</b><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"> and go ride the <b>Skyline Luge</b> before lounging on the sands of </span><b style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">Palawan Beach</b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDKe91GuXnU9g73q-m2cVDALaXWes_RusOwXj26HAhFNu4wfXY_jDDeRDg8ictWrcJcfwiKjju5U2arrKU7oFvUGpQkVX2EGrl416gyfh-eLxvTeB4R5LUS8fT8ui8JRvOSHGNSgtZGNwmZnhjcWEoxMFatNxOjMNEBved5grak9V7LjbQV3jsQ/s1840/palawanbeach.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1035" data-original-width="1840" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDKe91GuXnU9g73q-m2cVDALaXWes_RusOwXj26HAhFNu4wfXY_jDDeRDg8ictWrcJcfwiKjju5U2arrKU7oFvUGpQkVX2EGrl416gyfh-eLxvTeB4R5LUS8fT8ui8JRvOSHGNSgtZGNwmZnhjcWEoxMFatNxOjMNEBved5grak9V7LjbQV3jsQ/w640-h360/palawanbeach.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>4.</b> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">Do some window shopping in the giant </span><b style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">Louis Vuitton</b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;"> pod that overlooks the harborfront. Perhaps splurge on a new leather wallet.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>5.</b> Learn about the Seven Circles of Hell at </span><b style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">Haw Par Villa</b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">, a creepily fascinating park full of handpainted statues and macabre dioramas. Admission is free, but you'll need some money for the 20-minute train ride.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>6.</b> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">Order some fried carrot cake (for lunch, not dessert – trust me) at one of the city’s </span><b><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">“hawker stations,”</span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">outdoor food courts that serve the some of the most delicious street food you’ll ever taste.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshlBILvieSaUp5TproxKT1Bl5eVUZPZKhkWCQJSREvNnH2hLg7VlXvJUXJgibcQ1fNZmjuijKh37kVGrf6gfLB2GkaXr0WtgkjOvxp77STycsvSDStNI5ink3VbL8qC0cGffITcyPsQGd2aNCZDZlaBAvhIUyM8vGQy1l7UhINGKNKzjv8yAjuQ/s1200/Collage-of-food-dish.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshlBILvieSaUp5TproxKT1Bl5eVUZPZKhkWCQJSREvNnH2hLg7VlXvJUXJgibcQ1fNZmjuijKh37kVGrf6gfLB2GkaXr0WtgkjOvxp77STycsvSDStNI5ink3VbL8qC0cGffITcyPsQGd2aNCZDZlaBAvhIUyM8vGQy1l7UhINGKNKzjv8yAjuQ/w640-h336/Collage-of-food-dish.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>7.</b> Drink a </span><b style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">Singapore Sling</b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;"> at its birthplace, </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>The Long Bar</b></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;"> inside the famous </span><b style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">Raffles Hotel</b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">. (The fruity cocktail is over a century old</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">.)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>8.</b> After that, swing by the nearby </span><b style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">SunnyHills</b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;"> for a free sample of their signature pineapple tea cakes.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>9.</b> Ride the </span><b><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">Singapore Flyer</span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">at night for a gorgeous (and romantic) view of the city and its sparkling skyline.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: 400; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvIzfNqWJ9NiUyoZrXXjPmrNWRCSGGpIHpoYs937V-oiNYFwQ2znVRl0NmLopgUuKr1fn-uLlv9wTu1hWEe5Cx8AvXHYK2YiW-2kRhYq4hOoo4dr7ix0X7Qcb6blA7goDhTUzZ6owUfbCuDoKzcvdEQBZs1KbNYq8TDv3-f0sRuh3hbLNxK40X-w/s2560/shutterstock_1932196766v2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1711" data-original-width="2560" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvIzfNqWJ9NiUyoZrXXjPmrNWRCSGGpIHpoYs937V-oiNYFwQ2znVRl0NmLopgUuKr1fn-uLlv9wTu1hWEe5Cx8AvXHYK2YiW-2kRhYq4hOoo4dr7ix0X7Qcb6blA7goDhTUzZ6owUfbCuDoKzcvdEQBZs1KbNYq8TDv3-f0sRuh3hbLNxK40X-w/w640-h428/shutterstock_1932196766v2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: 400; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>10.</b> Walk the suspended, vertiginous Skyway up in the Supertrees of the breathtaking </span><b style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">Gardens by the Bay</b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">.</span></p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; widows: auto;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration: none; text-indent: -0.25in; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><b>11.</b> And while you’re there, cool off and explore the highlands amidst waterfalls, orchids, and exotic plants inside the </span><b style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration: none; text-indent: -0.25in; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Cloud Forest</b><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration: none; text-indent: -0.25in; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">, an awesome conservatory. (NOTE: If you're visiting in </span>September or October you'll need plenty of cooling as those are Singapore's most humid months as well as palm oil harvesting season in nearby Indonesia – beware of heavy air pollution.)</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>12.</b> Drain your wallet on<b> </b></span><b style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">Orchard Road</b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;"> among the dozens of shops, boutiques, and cafes that line up the city’s most popular shopping strip.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYAyAZaQktVt6zvU4IcW8F1Xm33-82PcjnMdp6grARh1hAtxP5_yrqOrp10tLpFLLbmWtLQ0IZAiaGepcIOHzfI39mmM2-MKo-IDYHj9rvVNNK0xCT4XcpUJsT6hAULERhQmIa9ILAjhgA_cgmH_RYcNW7Gwdlme9uqsF-zfUQJXzFakzqthZ3Bw/s1915/5b63f2d246655-5b63f2d2466cdhttps_2F2Fs3-ap-northeast-1.amazonaws.com2Fpsh-ex-ftnikkei-3937bb42Fimages2F02F82F12F52F12175180-5-eng-GB2F20180123_orchard-road-singapore.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1005" data-original-width="1915" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYAyAZaQktVt6zvU4IcW8F1Xm33-82PcjnMdp6grARh1hAtxP5_yrqOrp10tLpFLLbmWtLQ0IZAiaGepcIOHzfI39mmM2-MKo-IDYHj9rvVNNK0xCT4XcpUJsT6hAULERhQmIa9ILAjhgA_cgmH_RYcNW7Gwdlme9uqsF-zfUQJXzFakzqthZ3Bw/w640-h336/5b63f2d246655-5b63f2d2466cdhttps_2F2Fs3-ap-northeast-1.amazonaws.com2Fpsh-ex-ftnikkei-3937bb42Fimages2F02F82F12F52F12175180-5-eng-GB2F20180123_orchard-road-singapore.jpg.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>13.</b> Before heading back to your hotel room, take a foot bath and get a pedicure and massage at </span><b style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">Beauty Empire</b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;">, just two doors down from the Scarlet Singapore.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-size: medium; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 400; text-indent: -0.25in;"><i>For more info, tips, and guides, go to <a href="https://www.visitsingapore.com/en/" target="_blank">Visit Singapore</a></i>.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; widows: auto;"><i>@TheFirstEcho</i></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-1675194341438085672023-09-13T19:10:00.002-07:002023-09-13T19:10:20.914-07:00FERVOR: The 2023 Fall Playlist<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbB3Rq2f8MMfW5iKJw5ZbwLsnp8WKMLmWu6R3qDYtCr4GuWH1AnlFYzAp8m2E2QZPcVjXR2H6hCTKjvMe09GhR0kcCh8esvccgqA-d2xYdjn1Qwzl0AKf4o-o1ULWWyqXsSORJ8hOlhqpFDL-d8V3YbyyP9ylVLYm6UU2jZOFUXTzaG1HD6Mf1Jg/s2048/F51DKdZWsAAVy4H.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbB3Rq2f8MMfW5iKJw5ZbwLsnp8WKMLmWu6R3qDYtCr4GuWH1AnlFYzAp8m2E2QZPcVjXR2H6hCTKjvMe09GhR0kcCh8esvccgqA-d2xYdjn1Qwzl0AKf4o-o1ULWWyqXsSORJ8hOlhqpFDL-d8V3YbyyP9ylVLYm6UU2jZOFUXTzaG1HD6Mf1Jg/w640-h640/F51DKdZWsAAVy4H.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><p>The cover may be giving leather bar, but my fall playlist for 2023 is giving you all the tunes you need to transition into PSL season. </p><p>It's chock-full of artists who have appeared on previous playlists (hello, Kylie, Roosevelt, and Betty) as well as some surprises (welcome to the fold, Olivia Rodrigo, with your early-aughts pop-rock). </p><p>Grab your cardigan and press play:</p><p>
</p><center><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="352" loading="lazy" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/1Jbo4zAb6kTCOpiVB1DBOW?utm_source=generator" style="border-radius: 12px;" width="100%"></iframe></center>
<p><i><a href="https://www.instagram.com/thefirstecho/" target="_blank">@TheFirstEcho</a></i></p><p></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-87988599619818067712023-08-30T14:50:00.005-07:002023-08-30T14:55:39.402-07:00That's a Wrap on Hot Asian Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSxO4kP05xJUZenS9ByWj_6WxEk8rgncvnIV-Ve0dvvrxUicTbYI59lNuVx1784R_BvADiLnLLkUHR_gjy4ya1r9N5TbHkCwEyYF0JiU0WhVwjheLgp0PHjac13OJ2bWttPMsg8WxV9dXyRYFQ1pAp4tGF-NtRPidL-irk03yWqdZzrv46Nwqgrw/s1528/HotAsianSummer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="1528" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSxO4kP05xJUZenS9ByWj_6WxEk8rgncvnIV-Ve0dvvrxUicTbYI59lNuVx1784R_BvADiLnLLkUHR_gjy4ya1r9N5TbHkCwEyYF0JiU0WhVwjheLgp0PHjac13OJ2bWttPMsg8WxV9dXyRYFQ1pAp4tGF-NtRPidL-irk03yWqdZzrv46Nwqgrw/w640-h354/HotAsianSummer.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>It was, for lack of a better word, unexpected.</p><p>Make that: <i>pleasantly</i> unexpected.</p><p>While 2023's summer entertainment roster was loaded with big names like <i>Barbie</i>'s Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling, blockbuster wannabes like<i> Indiana Jones</i> <i>5</i> and <i>Mission: Impossible</i> <i>7</i>, and must-experience concert tours from Taylor Swift and Beyoncé, something else permeated the seasonal heat. This year, a highly enjoyable batch of films, TV series, books, and music, all created and led by AAPI performers, occupied the pop cultural sphere.</p><p>As someone who has identified as an Asian-American for the past forty-something years, I can't help but take notice of this assurance – <i>not</i> embarrassment – of riches, simply because I can't remember a time when audiences were given so many entertainment options featuring characters who look and sound like...well, <i>me</i>.</p><p>Technically released in the spring, Netflix's limited series, <b style="font-style: italic;">Beef</b>, started trending heavily after Memorial Day, namely for its surprising story about the consequences of a road rage run-in between a Korean-American contractor (Steven Yeun) and a Vietnamese-American owner of a small business (Ali Wong) who's married to the son of a renowned Japanese artist. Thankfully, the show was rarely about the <i>Asianness</i> of these characters and was more about the complicated effects of a very <i>American</i> culture steeped in anger and sadness. Its thirteen (!) Emmy nominations are well-deserved. </p><p><b><i>Joy Ride</i></b>, the funniest R-rated comedy of the year (sorry, <i>No Hard Feelings</i> and <i>Strays</i>), took the <i>Girls Trip</i> formula and placed four friends in China, putting them through a series of shenanigans before pulling at audience's heartstrings with its warm-and-fuzzy portrayal of adult friendships and its respectful, casual treatment of sexuality and gender.</p><p>Then, the delightful rom-com, <b><i>Shortcomings</i></b>, dared to give us a not-so-likable protagonist in Justin H. Min's Ben, a movie theater manager who must deal with a long-distance relationship prompted by his Japanese girlfriend, Miko (Ally Maki). The film, based on Adrian Tomine's 2007 graphic novel, is the directorial debut of actor Randal Park (<i>Fresh Off The Boat</i>, <i>Always Be My Maybe</i>). It manages to subvert genre tropes (the gay BFF here is a Korean lesbian played by the fantastic Sherry Cola) and poke fun at glossier mainstream representations (the opening is a clear jab at <i>Crazy Rich Asians</i>).</p><p>Heavier on the "rom" was the swoonworthy <i><b>Past Lives</b></i>, an immigrant tale about childhood friends from South Korea reuniting in present-day New York City and stirring up long-dormant feelings about each other. The will-they-or-won't-they dynamic is beautifully balanced by director Celine Song, and stars Greta Lee and Teo Loo accomplish so much in scenes filled with moments unspoken – they are among the film's best. </p><p>If you're fan of Netflix's <i><b>Heartstopper</b></i>, you already know that the second season dropped in early August, providing ten more episodes of queer adolescent puppy love. The character of Tao Xu, played by Chinese-British actor Will Gao (the show's "breakout star," according to <i>GQ</i>) was given more screen time, thanks to a storyline focused on his blossoming romance with Yasmin Finney's Elle.</p><p>Meanwhile, you may have seen R.F. Kuang's <b style="font-style: italic;">Yellowface</b> dominating bookstore shelves since dropping in May. The novel debuted to a lot of buzz, telling the satirical story of a white woman who plagiarizes a novel written by her dead Asian-American friend and inevitably faces the consequences. It has been hailed as a sharp commentary on both the publishing industry and cultural appropriation. </p><p>And throughout this Hot Asian Summer, if you happened to take a break from streaming and bingeing podcasts and turned on the actual radio, you would've heard <b>Fifty-Fifty's "Cupid"</b> on heavy rotation. The bubblegum single has been making a splash on Top 40, making it the longest-charting song by a K-pop girl group. <i>Your move, BTS</i>.</p><p>
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<p></p><p>Whether you've heard of one, some, or all of these titles, it is an undeniably noteworthy development, especially in a time when Hollywood gatekeepers are arguably attempting to widen the range of representation on screen and elsewhere. But calling it The Crazy Rich Asians Effect feels a bit trite now, not because we're five years removed from that groundbreaking film, but because Hollywood also finds itself in the midst of an existential crisis. </p><p>Hot Asian Summer happens to coincide with these Powers That Be falling under much-needed scrutiny and criticism during labor strikes that have placed the entire industry on lockdown. Most discussions have now turned from issues of representation to basic career survival. Perhaps this is a perfect storm for serious change and more progress, whatever that entails. Or perhaps Hollywood won't learn from this pivotal moment in time. Just ask <i>Shortcomings</i> director Randall Park, <a href="https://www.msn.com/en-us/movies/news/actor-randall-park-is-going-viral-for-his-take-on-barbie-hollywood-is-taking-the-wrong-lessons/ar-AA1fp5aT" target="_blank">who made headlines with his quote</a> about Hollywood's reaction to the billion-dollar-making <i>Barbie</i>. </p><p>As much as this summer was a pleasant surprise for me, I won't be surprised if other media outlets will also recognize the cultural significance of these titles being released into the world – not just in the same year – but within the same season. I won't be surprised if a thinkpiece from <i>Vox</i> or <i>AVClub</i> will attempt to rationalize it all as "a phenomenon." However, I won't accept the word "trend" in any of these explanations. Falling in love isn't a trend. Falling out of love isn't a trend. Going on a crazy, drug-fueled international trip with your best friends isn't a trend. Being angry at the world isn't a trend. </p><p>And being Asian with a story to tell, or a song to sing, isn't one either. </p><p><i>@TheFirstEcho</i></p><p></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-32894278955813583262023-08-05T17:45:00.001-07:002023-08-13T17:06:22.582-07:00Fear Street Diaries, Volume 1: Music Inspired by R.L. Stine's Book Series<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgh2g2HRHN4evdxlY9oDeNP3t1a0NNTvH9tvcLY0O7h3u__PBDThiq-h10B_kCmaFGKrJgUISe8JiwoYg7x1crp_hapfXikSjkYvdKUMaTfY9dnVrjDsWNVbqMoGCvczN5OHYygoVOx-0TNms6s9tVcqK95GClGeySrZqSzerFHXfc8oysFxCZoA/s1732/C49AFE73-FAAC-434F-8305-FDB0EEBA36F0.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1732" data-original-width="1732" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgh2g2HRHN4evdxlY9oDeNP3t1a0NNTvH9tvcLY0O7h3u__PBDThiq-h10B_kCmaFGKrJgUISe8JiwoYg7x1crp_hapfXikSjkYvdKUMaTfY9dnVrjDsWNVbqMoGCvczN5OHYygoVOx-0TNms6s9tVcqK95GClGeySrZqSzerFHXfc8oysFxCZoA/w640-h640/C49AFE73-FAAC-434F-8305-FDB0EEBA36F0.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><br />My <i>Fear Street</i> fandom knows no bounds. <p></p><p>In addition to creating an <a href="https://www.instagram.com/fearstreetdiaries/" target="_blank">Instagram fan page</a> two years ago, my penchant for perfecting playlists has led to this: a compilation of 30 tunes inspired by the young adult horror series written by best-selling author R.L. Stine. Here you'll find some dark pop tracks that not only share the same titles as the books (hello, Blusher and Ava Max), they convey themes from certain stories about the teenage victims and supernatural entities of the infamous dead-end street (check out those from Natalia Kills and Daughtry).</p><p>The music supervisor in me is pretty proud of this one:</p><p>
</p><center><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="352" loading="lazy" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/5iFwiHWBJHENIq2VAgRQkN?utm_source=generator" style="border-radius: 12px;" width="100%"></iframe></center>
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@TheFirstEcho</i></p><p></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-35045582973325860142023-08-03T11:01:00.000-07:002023-08-03T11:01:33.429-07:00Revisiting the Glorious 1998 Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks Interview on 'The Rosie O'Donnell Show'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_D8GD00sJ0ANbU0qaP58BI79S08be_rLKO7eme6YozsEPkgeAwWJwunLXfxa74PcJg1DDX4g5-CJoWsSlzrXSzaQPb4V5ZkEXRWh00sGsV5iVPvpaMOurDIVh6hD99jMUszo1tjMybhmqVMioziBgYuYz6TiWnEoAF4Mo7IM_mi4VNNZkkee5w/s1396/Rosie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="1396" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_D8GD00sJ0ANbU0qaP58BI79S08be_rLKO7eme6YozsEPkgeAwWJwunLXfxa74PcJg1DDX4g5-CJoWsSlzrXSzaQPb4V5ZkEXRWh00sGsV5iVPvpaMOurDIVh6hD99jMUszo1tjMybhmqVMioziBgYuYz6TiWnEoAF4Mo7IM_mi4VNNZkkee5w/w640-h410/Rosie.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>This December marks the 25th anniversary of <i>You've Got Mail</i>, the charming Nora Ephron rom-com that paired Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks on the big screen for the third time. (See: 1989's <i>Joe vs. The Volcano</i> and 1993's <i>Sleepless in Seattle.</i>) And twenty-five years ago, the two actors made a stop on their press tour to promote <i>Mail</i> on <i>The Rosie O'Donnell Show</i>, the blockbuster daytime talk show that ran for six seasons, leaving an impact on a generation of viewers, myself included – <i>but that's a pop cultural discussion for another time</i>. </p><p>Rosie has been active on YouTube, uploading clips of interviews and performances from her Emmy-winning show, including recently lost stars (R.I.P. Sinead O'Connor) and guests who have also recently appeared on her excellent new podcast, <i>Onward with Rosie O'Donnell</i>, a series of one-on-one conversations with longtime celebrity pals and other well-known names who are making a positive impact on American culture. </p><p>But her latest YouTube upload, the aforementioned interview with the stars of <i>You've Got Mail,</i> is thirty-two glorious minutes of 1998 nostalgia, a charming snapshot of an era long gone. Take note of my five takeaways:</p><p><b>1. The interview starts with Meg Ryan swapping stories with Rosie about their young sons.</b> The talk show host, who adopted her son Parker in 1995, recalls his interaction with Ryan's six-year-old son Jack and the boys' mutual obsession with Batman. The actress then whips out a tape recorder to play for Rosie (and the audience) a random audio clip of an original song about...<i>Godzilla</i>...written and performed by young Jack. It is an insanely adorable moment that is surreal to watch in 2023. Why? Because that six-year-old boy heard on the tape is now 31-year-old actor Jack Quaid of <i>The Boys</i>, <i>Scream</i>, and <i>Oppenheimer</i> fame. </p><p><b>2. Meg and Rosie then discuss the wonders of a new phenomenon: online </b><b>shopping</b><b>. </b>Back in 1998, plenty of Americans still visited malls and brick-and-mortar shops, so buying a book from a website like Amazon.com was considered a high-tech alternative.<i> Spending money in cyberspace? Gah!</i></p><p><b>3. Tom Hanks is up next</b>, sitting in between Rosie and his leading lady. Here he reveals that he has never been online until he was cast in <i>You've Got Mail</i>, sharing one embarrassing experience in a chat room (<i>remember those?</i>)...and the truth behind the rumors about him running for office, which is quickly dismissed with laughter <i>because what celebrity would ever run for President of the United States?</i></p><p><b>4. Enter Parker Posey</b>, who plays Tom's girlfriend in the movie. Rosie gets her to chat about the differences between big studio movies and the independent films she's mostly known for. One big differentiation: the money, of course. And in what has to be the first peek into celebrity swag culture on television, Parker talks about the lavish gifts she received from the studio</p><p><b>5. And then there's Greg Kinnear</b>, fresh off his Oscar nod for <i>As Good As It Gets</i>, who gets relegated to the final five minutes of the show during which he declares that "breaking up with Meg Ryan is the toughest thing I've ever had to do." Oh, and yeah, he used to be <a href="https://youtu.be/aATMrgqW9gs" target="_blank">a late-night host on NBC</a>!</p><center><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3xNcoP7JN0o" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></center><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-23120628523678946372023-07-06T11:03:00.005-07:002023-07-06T11:03:37.387-07:00Breaking Down The 2023 Writers Strike<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnt8636jq2mCNULjyC2xsFXdxIiiw8GjxlAAI0-hM-HfAbX4jUTEayS0oJWgrwXEiZy57iJqDjD-wcevqa_sw4fXOKm6pfgj-pkRnAQcTBbpdOS0kWOKY1Vhvo4wp22YZHBY5fA-aCKZ7dVBiCdbuhQohKLMN_tCbAbNhBwMVmvY3r7dHZ8LwUA/s2048/355462888_10160911530929074_4957907516338543161_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnt8636jq2mCNULjyC2xsFXdxIiiw8GjxlAAI0-hM-HfAbX4jUTEayS0oJWgrwXEiZy57iJqDjD-wcevqa_sw4fXOKm6pfgj-pkRnAQcTBbpdOS0kWOKY1Vhvo4wp22YZHBY5fA-aCKZ7dVBiCdbuhQohKLMN_tCbAbNhBwMVmvY3r7dHZ8LwUA/w640-h480/355462888_10160911530929074_4957907516338543161_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>If you’re still a little fuzzy on what’s happening in Hollywood, here’s my attempt to explain to friends, family, and those who don’t work in the entertainment industry. Please bear with me…</div><p>
Remember when you watched <i>Friends</i> (or still watch <i>Grey’s Anatomy</i>) and there were like 22-24 episodes in each season? Well, that involved a lot of writers —usually 9 to 11 working together in one room. And because those shows were so popular and successful, they went into syndication, which means reruns. And those writers (and actors) got residual payments because their work was still being aired —and still making money for the studio and whatever platform or station they ran on. </p><p>Now, say you watched <i>Ted Lasso</i> or <i>Succession</i>, a streaming comedy (Apple TV+) and a cable drama (HBO) that’s also streaming. These shows ran for 3 and 4 seasons, respectively, with an average of 10 episodes per season. This amount has become a standard for streaming and cable, which means less writers needed per show and less money paid to those writers (because, again, less episodes). And while these shows are considered hits, they’re not built for lucrative syndication/rerun deals because the studios that own them can keep streaming them for however long they like —WITHOUT paying writers and actors any residuals. This is possible because current contracts, based on old standards, don’t say anything about residuals for streaming, which is basically perpetual reruns, right? </p><p>Well, the Writers Guild of America is rightfully pissed and has been on strike (now in Week 11 as of this writing) because the group that represents all TV studios and producers like Disney/ABC, Paramount, Warner Bros, Hulu, Netflix, NBCUniversal, and Amazon (known as the AMPTP) is collectively making more money than ever while writers are making less, even though more content is being written and produced these days. (*599 scripted series ran/aired last year alone —compare that to the 200 that existed in 2010.)
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And when you throw the threat of AI into the mix — technology the studios are considering to replace human writers — it makes this strike all the more vital and important.
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Now, when you think of TV writers, you may think of Shonda Rhimes (<i>Scandal</i>, <i>Grey’s</i>, <i>Bridgerton</i>) and Ryan Murphy (<i>Glee</i>, <i>American Horror Story</i>), hugely successful scribes who’ve gone on to run their own shows and score rich development deals. They are like the top 2% of TV writers. The WGA represents roughly 12,000 members, most of whom are considered middle-class, relying on paychecks just like any working American citizen. And because there are less episodes to write on a series and a longer hiatus (time off) between seasons, it has become increasingly difficult to maintain a career and livelihood in an industry already known for crushing careers and livelihoods. This extends beyond writers; anyone related to a production is affected.
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What does this mean for the average American viewer? Well, you may not sense a big change now, but your go-to sources of entertainment will be majorly disrupted. Come fall, there won’t be any comedies or dramas premiering new episodes on broadcast networks (ABC, NBC, CBS, Fox, The CW) because nothing will have been written for these shows now. Shortly after that, you may not see new series or new episodes of your favorite shows popping up in places like Netflix or HBO (the final season of <i>Stranger</i> <i>Things</i> hasn’t even been shot yet).
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And with the Screen Actors Guild poised to join the writers on strike now that their contracts expired on June 30 (and they’re faced with the same existential threat), you can bet on a stronger unionized force that will rattle the greedy media giants even more. Actors have already been showing their support, stepping away from projects that have been shut down. (And yes, this will also affect movies eventually.) But when you get to the core of it all, when you peel away the layers, this is an American labor movement dealing with issues as old as time: rich bigwigs profiting off the work of laborers who don’t get their fair share of the pie.
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Some industry insiders will say all this was inevitable ever since these studios caught “Streaming Fever.” Not only was it a chance for them to compete with a behemoth like Netflix — with their own original content — it was a chance to recycle nostalgic properties they already own for audiences they assume will eat up. Hence why you’re constantly seeing prequel series for <i>Lord of the Rings</i>, <i>Game of Thrones</i>, <i>Grease</i>, <i>Friday the 13th</i>, and <i>Harry Potter</i> and reboots of things that are too many to list here.
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So…I hope all of that makes sense and clears things up. As someone who has many friends and colleagues in the union and would like to write something for the screen and join the WGA myself, I will continue to support the guild and join their efforts for as long as it takes. I hope you will too. I also hope you take the time to carefully read the opening and closing credits of your favorite show the next time you watch it —and think about the people behind those names you see on your screen, people whose lives are being affected (not just writers but those who work in editing, sound, wardrobe, lighting, hair/makeup, catering, animation, special effects, etc.) by this necessary but challenging moment in Hollywood history.</p><p><i>@TheFirstEcho</i></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-90590994687363032972023-06-27T11:13:00.003-07:002023-06-28T09:34:42.149-07:00Forever L.A. 21<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0sWz1E9g8QHHc4z8KJptX0qLxKXcucpTZdHfPnZbDrjqgd4aXbBYJ1utw1NneW7KZQos0emY7fxQq2VIw9NkXAp_kEsYpYOvhXdWzOKwckMwfb_RDsXoNefLiujnWfNumIHsCF2uJ8Y_cO7fZM6X6_sT3Kq3vTfGwm2dbSo74Bt0GyxXEiw/s1400/HikoLA21.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1036" data-original-width="1400" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0sWz1E9g8QHHc4z8KJptX0qLxKXcucpTZdHfPnZbDrjqgd4aXbBYJ1utw1NneW7KZQos0emY7fxQq2VIw9NkXAp_kEsYpYOvhXdWzOKwckMwfb_RDsXoNefLiujnWfNumIHsCF2uJ8Y_cO7fZM6X6_sT3Kq3vTfGwm2dbSo74Bt0GyxXEiw/w640-h474/HikoLA21.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><i>We open in Sarasota, Florida</i>:</p><p>The middle-aged cashier at the bargain outlet store looks like she has fallen on hard times more than once – like she's faced her fair share of struggles throughout life. And my presumptuous self guesses that she juggles more than one job. Checking out customers at a place full of discontinued hand soap and discounted candy isn't her sole source of income, and yes, I don't like that I have unfairly assigned her a certain socioeconomic status either. For all I know, that white Tesla parked outside on the cracked pavement of the desolate parking lot could be hers – but really, folks, it's probably the 1997 Saturn with the missing bumper.</p><p>Anyway, shortly after waddling over to her register and ringing up my bag of sour cream and onion potato chips (for stress-eating purposes <i>who are you to judge me?</i>), she asks if I want to "sign up for a store card." I politely decline without a full explanation of what that actually is. Do I earn an expired Glade Plug-In for accumulating ten hole punches on it? Would I be subjected to weekly emails alerting me to the rejected shampoo and plastic lawn chairs that "just arrived in store"? I tell her I don't live in the area and wouldn't get much use out of it. </p><p>"Oh? Where you from?" she asks. I quickly note her teeth, particularly the ones that are missing from her mouth. </p><p>"L.A."</p><p>"Ooh. How is it out there? Must be bad, huh? With all them people sleeping on the streets?"</p><p><i>She's gonna go there, isn't she?</i> I think. I can only imagine how this woman receives information about the world from a certain cable news network.</p><p>I reply defensively, "Well, you get that in pretty much any major city." I imagine myself quickly following up with: "If you ever visited a city, you meth-mouthed redneck."</p><p>This wasn't the first time I've gotten this reaction when I tell people where I live, and at this point, after residing in the City of Angels for twenty-one years now, my tolerance for such passive aggressive comments and overall city-bashing has reached an all-time low. Don't tell me L.A. is filled with phonies, fakers, and rampant homelessness. Don't tell me it's at risk of burning down in the Next Great Wildfire. Don't tell me it's too expensive, with its unaffordable housing (and smoothies). Don't tell me you couldn't live here because you can't take the traffic and smog (<i>We did away with most of the smog more than a decade ago, thankyouveddymuch). </i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindbU0dY8YopULPWHlt1NOR_H464aPqVAogclVqRDe67YfeNGsOssk_PhK0uCAe9AwBO7h_AC_Mr2TK_A2IX4XX5Vmpbkf5ozvM7rmuTuwKtcbDxEqF_cb9U2dZ1ndboCNtv2L5h370GDYxa8zH-v6cps0qsBH9Pw9vATYYWHRR61RtbYSlB9RYg/s1920/jake-blucker-8LlJNFLTEm0-unsplash%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindbU0dY8YopULPWHlt1NOR_H464aPqVAogclVqRDe67YfeNGsOssk_PhK0uCAe9AwBO7h_AC_Mr2TK_A2IX4XX5Vmpbkf5ozvM7rmuTuwKtcbDxEqF_cb9U2dZ1ndboCNtv2L5h370GDYxa8zH-v6cps0qsBH9Pw9vATYYWHRR61RtbYSlB9RYg/w640-h426/jake-blucker-8LlJNFLTEm0-unsplash%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Instead, I suggest you take a look at your own life and then take a moment to understand why thousands upon thousands of people keep moving to this city every year (despite those pandemic-driven migrations of 2021 and 2022). Take a moment to understand why some Americans feel compelled to leave their old lives behind and make the journey west. Understand why they still feel drawn to the promise that L.A. – or any popular metropolis – still offers. </p><p></p><p>I feel like I have spent the last decade defending Los Angeles more than I have before. Just like any New Yorker who has grown tired of convincing outsiders that Manhattanites are not a bunch of rude, <i>hey-I'm-walkin'-here</i> grumps, I have moved past the point of trying to justify my continued admiration for L.A. – especially whenever my Los Angeles Anniversary comes around, prompting personal reflection on my time spent here. Yes, I still enjoy avocado toast. Yes, I believe electric vehicles are the future, and I will probably purchase one within the next ten years. And yes, I am still filled with just the right amount of glee when I wear shorts in January while watching my East Coast brethren dig themselves out of blizzards. But living in L.A. has been more than that. My time here has been made more valuable by the people I've met and keep close to my heart. At the risk out sounding sickeningly saccharine and trite, they are my everything. </p><p>That said, my life in L.A. has been thankfully scandal-free and relatively stable, so don't expect anytime soon a tell-all book about some of the shit I have witnessed over the years. Like that time a coworker of mine made out with a famous <i>married</i> comedian at a holiday party...Or when my friends and I got drunk with an underage Shia LeBeouf at <i>Movieline</i>'s Young Hollywood Awards afterparty (ha, remember <i>Movieline</i>? That's how long I've lived here)...Or that time I produced a promo in which I <a href="http://www.thefirstecho.com/2019/08/that-time-i-worked-with-shirtless.html" target="_blank">forced a future Bravolebrity douchebag to dance in a choreographed flash mob</a> in various intersections throughout the city... </p><p>The truth of the matter is that there are more crazy stories I could probably share, but most of them I am forgetting as I write this in a coffeeshop where I am distracted by the reality star who just strolled in, scratching his crotch before ordering a matcha latte. Perhaps I'll save those stories for another post...</p><p>However, the question remains: What keeps me in Los Angeles after all these years? It's simple really – I can't imagine myself living anywhere else. It's the cradle of creativity, and I still have plenty of fuel in my tank. (<i>Sure, the Emmy sitting atop my bookcase keeps me inspired, and it hasn't lost its luster since I received it three years ago</i>.) And of course, there are the dreams of owning homes in places like New York and London, but my roots remain so firmly planted here – literally half of my life now belongs to this city – I don't see myself trading it in for anywhere else. </p><p>Thanks for the continued memories, Los Angeles. </p><p><i>@TheFirstEcho</i></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-72603168817016945332023-06-05T15:33:00.003-07:002023-06-05T15:35:21.292-07:00FRIVOLITY: The 2023 Summer Playlist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqNVCRmsYC0oi9UPD4_3Q60uuqmSQ3yuSrb6bSAaeskFxE5Sm8_nArGJopDfi0YdfzYGT7tCUtNl0F_JwH-Cj6ZIsNrlWKiVQ--k52MK7Cae5ZUNPI6Z5fDFFE0MJnPYM6HT46uMztGQ0t7v2YKr0-w6ZrZInD9NQNaW_OTWzZJxjKtN30wo/s3000/48F88FE5-9D21-49FB-A0FA-3670B0C8104A.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqNVCRmsYC0oi9UPD4_3Q60uuqmSQ3yuSrb6bSAaeskFxE5Sm8_nArGJopDfi0YdfzYGT7tCUtNl0F_JwH-Cj6ZIsNrlWKiVQ--k52MK7Cae5ZUNPI6Z5fDFFE0MJnPYM6HT46uMztGQ0t7v2YKr0-w6ZrZInD9NQNaW_OTWzZJxjKtN30wo/w640-h640/48F88FE5-9D21-49FB-A0FA-3670B0C8104A.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Break out the pool floaties.</p><p>The Summer of 2023 is the summer I say "yes" to things. Yes to dinner and drinks with acquaintances I haven't seen in years. Yes to an FYC event where I get to meet <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CtHhG3XpaW1/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==" target="_blank">one of my favorite actresses</a>. Yes to a trip to Palm Springs, San Francisco, and anywhere else that requires a simple weekend tote. Yes to participating in <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CtFLojiyK7K/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==" target="_blank">a fundraising campaign</a> that is humbling, inspiring, and life-affirming all at once...</p><p>Saying yes to everything keeps reminding me that there is only so much time to experience and enjoy everything that you can say yes to. And we might as well have a kickass soundtrack to accompany the fun. My summer gift to you is this 3-plus-hour-long playlist chock-full of both new tunes and bonus flashback tracks that will have you saying...well, "yes." </p><p>
</p><center><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="352" loading="lazy" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/5JeVxuTg1weu55hf6tfl4h?utm_source=generator" style="border-radius: 12px;" width="100%"></iframe></center><p></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-4540194932657625712023-06-04T13:19:00.000-07:002023-06-14T16:20:47.392-07:00Becoming a Visionary: Joining the Fight Against Cancer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafL9Q-DF4_umD-yR_LFACeEZk8xp5scSz55ZXhBAkalg8RIwH2UKocq8prMa804YhSPQIbX5BoP3K-c1AyiK78CUtYsAhVOWeG3swXtiQFn9cQ49QuaGLxG1obSUDeYJqDgnnwUeJewSkIuT5UkT02utgdNhbzDHD0GfFudxd4dzjuf5SxR8/s2012/VisionaryGroupPic.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1010" data-original-width="2012" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafL9Q-DF4_umD-yR_LFACeEZk8xp5scSz55ZXhBAkalg8RIwH2UKocq8prMa804YhSPQIbX5BoP3K-c1AyiK78CUtYsAhVOWeG3swXtiQFn9cQ49QuaGLxG1obSUDeYJqDgnnwUeJewSkIuT5UkT02utgdNhbzDHD0GfFudxd4dzjuf5SxR8/w640-h322/VisionaryGroupPic.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Over the last ten weeks, I had the honor of leading a small team in the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Visionaries of the Year fundraising campaign, and last weekend was an inspiring culmination of generosity, surprises, and hard work. Together with other teams throughout Los Angeles, we raised over $980,000 for patients, families, and caregivers facing healthcare challenges throughout America. </p><p>I had been nominated to be a "Visionary of the Year" candidate by Jonathan Unger of Unger Media back in January. Like most people who have been asked to join, I was hesitant to commit to the mission, but after experiencing so much grief, loss, and trauma in my own family and getting an up-close look at the American healthcare system over the last 18 months (a soul-crushing experience), I felt compelled to sign up to save lives and, <i>as they say</i>, make a difference.</p><p>And it's been quite a journey. </p><p>After ten weeks of emailing, posting, calling, texting, and messaging everyone in my contacts, I emerged from the hustle as someone whose hope for humanity was reinstated. The experience scraped off the hard, crusty shell of cynicism that had developed over the last several years, a time when the world seemed to be swirling down a drain of despair. <i>But make no mistake</i>: I'm still a realist at heart, but a realist with some softened edges. (Winning the Patient Support Mission Award at the Grand Finale Celebration Gala also helped – see below.)</p><p>That all said, if you’re reading this and donated to my campaign, thank you for being a significant part of this achievement and honor.</p>
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</p><center><blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-permalink="https://www.instagram.com/p/CtFLojiyK7K/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" data-instgrm-version="14" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border-radius: 3px; border: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.5) 0px 0px 1px 0px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.15) 0px 1px 10px 0px; margin: 1px; max-width: 540px; min-width: 326px; padding: 0px; width: calc(100% - 2px);"><div style="padding: 16px;"> <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CtFLojiyK7K/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 0; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; width: 100%;" target="_blank"> <div style="align-items: center; display: flex; flex-direction: row;"> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 50%; flex-grow: 0; height: 40px; margin-right: 14px; width: 40px;"></div> <div style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; flex-grow: 1; justify-content: center;"> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; 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line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0px 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CtFLojiyK7K/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Hiko Mitsuzuka (@thefirstecho)</a></p></div></blockquote> <script async="" src="//www.instagram.com/embed.js"></script></center><p></p>
<p><i>
As a global leader in the fight against blood cancer, LLS</i>: </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Funds cutting-edge research leading to breakthroughs in immunotherapy, genomics, and personalized medicine that are improving and saving the lives of patients. </li><li>Provides free education and support for blood cancer patients and families, including personalized, one-on-one support, assistance with identifying and enrolling in clinical trials, and more. </li><li>Mobilizes thousands of advocates to drive policy changes that accelerate the development of new cancer treatments and break down barriers to care. </li></ul><div>And even though my campaign is over, you can still donate and support the fight <a href="https://givenow.lls.org/give/342076/?&&&&ds_rl=1278572&ds_rl=1278572&gclid=CjwKCAjwsvujBhAXEiwA_UXnABhQVNuB8J6wJRhqbwXyvlMrxddELeOXIzAhi5P8kjT7wCbriHRDqxoCoKEQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds#!/donation/checkout" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>@TheFirstEcho</i></div><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-43355309762077522072023-04-26T12:39:00.002-07:002023-04-26T12:39:33.999-07:00Michelle Yeoh and Tina Fey Confront 'A Haunting in Venice'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjboVcD7m2kFLOerlZzPSQFHDUHjqF19gecBrVyn8IvMceVFqErsB0tRptXxSpG1sIZG4MAu6U3gEYxrcXnnIkwRYAtacuvVpkjqpWvhHJeLU0aIwJ3Pj5e7MeYG5UJankI2kPbK22lMepJ1Ir4c33t19F8Yl4XVn3b4W_TFFthyLD6TPlu0ck/s1356/Haunting%20in%20Venice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="718" data-original-width="1356" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjboVcD7m2kFLOerlZzPSQFHDUHjqF19gecBrVyn8IvMceVFqErsB0tRptXxSpG1sIZG4MAu6U3gEYxrcXnnIkwRYAtacuvVpkjqpWvhHJeLU0aIwJ3Pj5e7MeYG5UJankI2kPbK22lMepJ1Ir4c33t19F8Yl4XVn3b4W_TFFthyLD6TPlu0ck/w640-h338/Haunting%20in%20Venice.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>So there I was, lounging on my couch, recuperating from my first (<i>and hopefully only</i>) bout with Covid, when a friend texted me a link to this trailer...</div><div><br /></div><div>Little did I know Kenneth Branagh was doing another Poirot adaptation, this time based on Agatha Christie's <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Halloween-Party-Hercule-Mystery-Mysteries/dp/0062073958/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=halloween+party+agatha+book&qid=1682537870&sprefix=halloween+party+aga%2Caps%2C240&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Hallowe'en Party</a> </i>(<i>yes, that apostrophe belongs there</i>). Little did I know recent Oscar winner Michelle Yeoh was in it, playing a medium who is hired by a British woman to make contact with her dead daughter. And little did I know this was Tina-Liz-Lemon-Fey's next project! </div><div><br /></div><div>Needless to say, this certainly made my day. And judging by this teaser that's giving off <i>The Conjuring</i> vibes, the marketing folks at 20th Century Studios are attempting to lure in horror fans this time around. <p>
</p><center><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oRCKIP5paEU" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></center><p></p></div>
<p>From the press release: <i>A Haunting in Venice</i> is set in eerie, post-World War II Venice on All Hallows’ Eve. <i>A Haunting in Venice</i> is a terrifying mystery featuring the return of the celebrated sleuth, Hercule Poirot. Now retired and living in self-imposed exile in the world’s most glamorous city, Poirot reluctantly attends a séance at a decaying, haunted palazzo. When one of the guests is murdered, the detective is thrust into a sinister world of shadows and secrets.</p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-88665174057842542892023-03-31T11:35:00.001-07:002023-04-10T15:23:09.747-07:00Rapid Movie Reviews: March 2023<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9XNntmHmICw9k7Cbbv16UR4O8omzsMwoYDeCwRKVh5iaS_g2COb3rvFLz54cnCBnZKXnM2u2eO9aYfTizHi9VFTE4NB2jOn4nmVFA8tKfVbROCi8iHzjWVuUseqqUi2FeMUZW3XbGBr0vc25rVny5rlZUG7I46AiJJotyqlCUxiU8w76cpK8/s1260/March%20Movies.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="732" data-original-width="1260" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9XNntmHmICw9k7Cbbv16UR4O8omzsMwoYDeCwRKVh5iaS_g2COb3rvFLz54cnCBnZKXnM2u2eO9aYfTizHi9VFTE4NB2jOn4nmVFA8tKfVbROCi8iHzjWVuUseqqUi2FeMUZW3XbGBr0vc25rVny5rlZUG7I46AiJJotyqlCUxiU8w76cpK8/w640-h372/March%20Movies.png" width="640" /></a></b></div><p><b style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><i>Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania</i></b> - I would have preferred watching Michael Douglas and Michelle Pfeiffer trade barbs in an intergalactic version of <i>Romancing the Stone</i>. There are only so many times I can witness Paul Rudd Paul Rudd his way out of a jam at this point in my moviegoing existence. Could we at least get a spinoff movie about the Freedom Fighters in the Quantum Realm? (Hi, William Jackson Harper and Katy O-Brian.)</p><p></p><p><b><i>Scream VI</i></b> - Bring on the "Ghostface Takes Manhattan" jokes. I can take it, because this sequel was a much-needed jolt after last year's "requel" that attempted to rejuvenate the slasher franchise. Featuring one of the best openings of the series, <i>Scream VI</i> is brutal with its kills but silly with its treatment of beloved characters as pin cushions.</p><p><i><b>65</b></i> - After 90 minutes of minimal dialogue, derivative daddy-daughter issues, and a bunch of <i>Jurassic World</i> rejects, you may also find yourself asking in the end: Why was this movie made? Wait until this is running on FX on a weekend afternoon two years from now.</p><p><b><i>Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves</i></b> - I didn't think I'd laugh out loud at the sight of a fat dragon, but here we are. Also: the most fun I had watching Hugh Grant be a pathetically despicable villain. </p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-30364779231245831812023-03-06T01:00:00.006-08:002023-03-06T09:54:45.832-08:00FLAIR: The 2023 Spring Playlist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1dVL2ir51JE6WwThs2ryEiP8Y1GhKdRH4UathJMM-EHrlsWewPK8AX-K7zqQL-Q2sxWRgU8viEdxlgA5PITtQZZEt44Ek_wdOISVTWyFBUukC6D_C3B3eMTmrTon9FkPdSWXjBHsja66wqqbWerhQf9t2RPhe-GS0jmC6EebNZf_WJypFs0Y/s846/FLAIR-Spring23.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="846" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1dVL2ir51JE6WwThs2ryEiP8Y1GhKdRH4UathJMM-EHrlsWewPK8AX-K7zqQL-Q2sxWRgU8viEdxlgA5PITtQZZEt44Ek_wdOISVTWyFBUukC6D_C3B3eMTmrTon9FkPdSWXjBHsja66wqqbWerhQf9t2RPhe-GS0jmC6EebNZf_WJypFs0Y/w640-h640/FLAIR-Spring23.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p>What does Pink, a Kate Bush cover, a dancing Jason Mraz, and the color lavender all have in common? They all make appearances on my Spring 2023 playlist (natch) along with earwormy tracks from Ava Max, Sam Smith, Zara Larsson, Niall Horan, and <a href="http://www.thefirstecho.com/2023/03/sg-lewiss-lifetime-is-song-of-month.html" target="_blank">SG Lewis, an artist I am currently obsessed with</a> – thanks to his unskippable album, <i>AudioLust & HigherLove</i>. (I even threw in a throwback, Madonna's "Nothing Really Matters," in honor of <i>Ray of Light</i>'s 25th anniversary.)</p><p>If I'm being honest, this year's seasonal crop is better than last year's. It's a collection of tunes that is working hard to help you transition out of the nasty weather we've been getting lately and into a warmer, sunnier disposition. So go ahead, log onto Spotify, and tap that heart button on this playlist to keep it close for when you need it – which will be <i>all the damn time</i>. </p><p>
</p><center><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="380" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/6QuTP7quuBvwuLUkfpi4nJ" width="100%"></iframe></center>
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@TheFirstEcho</i></p><p></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-24074011448249688822023-03-05T22:56:00.001-08:002023-03-05T22:56:09.718-08:00SG Lewis's "Lifetime" is the Song of the Month<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0aqVWvA7BG1GLMPa2swxN7kKIkgtr2qhItWcN2uw8l8KIOA6x7vrd6gESzdjC8IcljyFEKfVLGcdMyns7IffNrmn8P-Vj9XZAsRufKjw84IYJa37V2NmnocFWNRX7GTndNwDTAzLgOG3Bp7hn1dkrodU3AmIJJOAcguCahWR_io2Gr5h7LE/s1200/SG-Lewis-Lifetime-22.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0aqVWvA7BG1GLMPa2swxN7kKIkgtr2qhItWcN2uw8l8KIOA6x7vrd6gESzdjC8IcljyFEKfVLGcdMyns7IffNrmn8P-Vj9XZAsRufKjw84IYJa37V2NmnocFWNRX7GTndNwDTAzLgOG3Bp7hn1dkrodU3AmIJJOAcguCahWR_io2Gr5h7LE/w640-h360/SG-Lewis-Lifetime-22.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Imagine hopping in the car, rolling down all the windows, and cruising down your local highway with the one you love – no traffic in sight, the sun shining, a cool breeze finally signaling the end of winter with a whiff of freshly cut grass. And throughout it all, you're blaring<b> SG Lewis's "Lifetime"</b> because it is, without a doubt, the perfect track to welcome Spring 2023 with open arms. The introspective house track is from the English singer-songwriter's second studio album, <i>AudioLust & HigherLove</i>, and it deserves your love and attention. </p><p>The adorable music video is also worth five minutes of your time:</p>
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</p><center><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vU36kq5BzYc" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></center>
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@TheFirstEcho</i></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-55528795251324966942023-03-01T13:29:00.002-08:002023-03-01T13:36:04.321-08:00Rapid Movie Reviews: February 2023<p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9k7h--rGYedPNEDWp7j2pHpKL_3e6sVVVxxZH6NFuG17srNi70ImoNsSxb68vW6tKE_7haWhXsN69_04qmdF_miXKO0J1PGEOCNiNuEXu4R-5-BzQtrrcQSwG5ESfjZK41UFLuJQOoXy3q_E1U7MxVPhHUmEZq2_TNcmROV3yHpyrhewY4FQ/s1422/FebruaryMovies.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="1422" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9k7h--rGYedPNEDWp7j2pHpKL_3e6sVVVxxZH6NFuG17srNi70ImoNsSxb68vW6tKE_7haWhXsN69_04qmdF_miXKO0J1PGEOCNiNuEXu4R-5-BzQtrrcQSwG5ESfjZK41UFLuJQOoXy3q_E1U7MxVPhHUmEZq2_TNcmROV3yHpyrhewY4FQ/w640-h288/FebruaryMovies.png" width="640" /></a></i></div><p></p><p><b><i>Magic Mike's Last Dance</i></b> - The bromantic camaraderie is sorely missing in the third and final chapter of this trilogy which finds our titular dancer going to London to pull a <i>Burlesque</i> with Salma Hayek Pinault's rich woman with rich woman problems. Stay for the epic opening lap dance, leave for the flat story in the middle, and then come back for the electric finale performance.</p><p><i><b>Missing </b></i>- A parent's worst nightmare gets reversed when a mother (Nia Long) disappears on a trip with her new boyfriend, and her daughter (Storm Reid) must follow the trail of social media breadcrumbs to find her. The film is an adequately twisty and tense ride, using innovative screen techniques and every possible digital platform in existence in nearly every scene – which is basically a Boomer's worst nightmare. </p><p><b><i>Cocaine Bear </i></b>- A synth-tastic score by Mark Mothersbaugh and one thrilling ambulance chase scene can't totally save Elizabeth Banks's horror-comedy about a coked-up apex predator terrorizing a Tennessee state park. An overstuffed character list and an imbalanced tone turns what should've been an A-plus B-movie...into a simple B movie. </p><p><i><b>Knock at the Cabin</b></i> - M. Night Shyamalan's latest thriller isn't perfect, but the final argument between Eric (<i>a terrific Ben Aldridge for whom there aren't enough fire emojis</i>) and Andrew (Jonathan Groff) is an interesting portrayal of a particular family's perspective on the end of the world that deserves more discussion.</p><p><b><i>80 for Brady </i></b>- Rita Moreno is the MVP in this senior version of <i>Girls Trip</i> which is loaded with enough broad comedy for its three other main broads (Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, and Sally Field). The Mom Movie of 2023.</p><p><b><i>@TheFirstEcho</i></b></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-50199035156880380002023-02-07T14:38:00.001-08:002023-02-07T14:38:15.714-08:00P!NK's "Trustfall" is the Song of the Month<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhATF_VEAa0xA5jVv_L1LU3mkVM5e8r6spYdh7ZwFqVkoXQAnFUz7Hz40qZxJaPpExTMg3zWidRIKGB-LOir-e_8a3J_7thup3zxq0DgsN-wFN0Zv4gduK1JirkdHnzpJL0rEshq9RzI3vR8C_9ZoqRBFyErtxXffdw9fW6Dah4SaSOnfVwYuc/s1558/PinkTrustfall.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="946" data-original-width="1558" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhATF_VEAa0xA5jVv_L1LU3mkVM5e8r6spYdh7ZwFqVkoXQAnFUz7Hz40qZxJaPpExTMg3zWidRIKGB-LOir-e_8a3J_7thup3zxq0DgsN-wFN0Zv4gduK1JirkdHnzpJL0rEshq9RzI3vR8C_9ZoqRBFyErtxXffdw9fW6Dah4SaSOnfVwYuc/w640-h388/PinkTrustfall.png" width="640" /></a></div><p>Sure, February may be a time for vapid valentine expressions, but it's also when the reality of the new year kicks in, and some of us are reminded that we need to get our sh*t together. Thankfully P!nk is here to support us with a new single that can help us get through the rest of this frigid season. "Trustfall" is the title track from her upcoming album (out Feb. 17) that's all about taking a chance, letting go, and following your instincts. </p><p>The lyrics are just broad enough to make it an adequate anthem that's begging to be licensed for an adventurous Jeep commercial. And the gorgeously shot music video was directed by Georgia Hudson, who also helmed the singer's similarly-aestheticized "What About Us" from 2017.</p>
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</p><center><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/D2KE2a5qo0g" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></center><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-71461547368818419952023-02-02T15:51:00.004-08:002023-02-09T18:22:58.690-08:00Rapid Movie Reviews: January 2023<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKrLKf7x2YjXoTrbrD-nt4pvYDBxptulAgPRJo8aAdjXRfvHMo36UtnujcZR8g_jkuO4DV-5qeXodErWjGFu6n2jB55oW32hTLqLc2muFi3CUTn77su3BHozgg2GfeW5CDf12wKeN-o5EvcYsHzR-7wpE2_Vssj3aa3nJXQCEVT-WcV-j6O4/s1330/January%20Movies.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1330" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKrLKf7x2YjXoTrbrD-nt4pvYDBxptulAgPRJo8aAdjXRfvHMo36UtnujcZR8g_jkuO4DV-5qeXodErWjGFu6n2jB55oW32hTLqLc2muFi3CUTn77su3BHozgg2GfeW5CDf12wKeN-o5EvcYsHzR-7wpE2_Vssj3aa3nJXQCEVT-WcV-j6O4/w640-h302/January%20Movies.png" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><i>A brief rundown of the films I caught in theaters this past month</i>...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB8vHqtLLBuSbULs69NMS2BeX-xMXQZbCXku4h99UPq1h5_OrFQveB0U-B_eRMpTZAe7uQvQl3O2GhRDeVu536tkOQBKXu0yIrPpErXD8eFwM3LvUr8OzjH-IuyW_ALlISd04YovAR-LyKiBepltC_fdWz_KYVYScrqEBcy730gVjQ5Bkuaqk/s1920/babylon-blogroll-1671045873802.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB8vHqtLLBuSbULs69NMS2BeX-xMXQZbCXku4h99UPq1h5_OrFQveB0U-B_eRMpTZAe7uQvQl3O2GhRDeVu536tkOQBKXu0yIrPpErXD8eFwM3LvUr8OzjH-IuyW_ALlISd04YovAR-LyKiBepltC_fdWz_KYVYScrqEBcy730gVjQ5Bkuaqk/w640-h360/babylon-blogroll-1671045873802.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><b style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><i>Babylon</i></b> - Damien Chazelle's manic ode to Hollywood excess in the late 1920s is both dazzling and divisive (<i>not to mention a daunting task for your attention span</i>). Brad Pitt is perfectly cast as a leading man feeling the pressures of a changing industry while drifting into irrelevance. Margot Robbie, while adequately great, spent most of her screen time at an 11 with a performance that bordered on being one-note. In conclusion: needed more Jean Smart. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPuXQcramZzHo8rWfaZIntTAF1UW6fsE6fQgxFiZ0EpzRt6IYQ9OEEcxV8wDBApfPF_ifKrlNcCtVbZYgYHXYvb_Hx1PmZ--3SzV0cu8SS9hcJwubQl4Gk5HaSaciFaerjDo3Mi5-cl7p8kZXXnymjs2H2Jr6NvnBeMcgFS50sB4uOboNSuXo/s1296/M3GAN-Still-Doll-Universal-Everett-MCDMEGA_UV011-H-2023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="730" data-original-width="1296" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPuXQcramZzHo8rWfaZIntTAF1UW6fsE6fQgxFiZ0EpzRt6IYQ9OEEcxV8wDBApfPF_ifKrlNcCtVbZYgYHXYvb_Hx1PmZ--3SzV0cu8SS9hcJwubQl4Gk5HaSaciFaerjDo3Mi5-cl7p8kZXXnymjs2H2Jr6NvnBeMcgFS50sB4uOboNSuXo/w640-h360/M3GAN-Still-Doll-Universal-Everett-MCDMEGA_UV011-H-2023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><b><i>M3GAN</i></b> - With a dash more camp and two cups of additional blood, Blumhouse's latest cash cow could've been a truly iconic horror entry. The fact that Universal pushed for a re-edit to change its rating to PG-13 after the killer doll's dance moves went viral on TikTok is unfortunate. A 2025 sequel is on the books – so is an unrated cut, which sounds promising – so naturally I will be eating it all up. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGqX2jgQ159XDZVV-30tPjaWBOcvhPiSOsqSr4u4XO15mV1tMM5fatS8hGw2PDCaQic0hLy_7ondpO8db9laFF9FZwsYOieJhH10XGTEva2F2PzF8191X1Lj0PJMkf7E13ew_FHlXM04Fv65IiRdfrMM6GnvpV1Xej87CECdHl9oV1IBAnA4/s1486/80.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="623" data-original-width="1486" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGqX2jgQ159XDZVV-30tPjaWBOcvhPiSOsqSr4u4XO15mV1tMM5fatS8hGw2PDCaQic0hLy_7ondpO8db9laFF9FZwsYOieJhH10XGTEva2F2PzF8191X1Lj0PJMkf7E13ew_FHlXM04Fv65IiRdfrMM6GnvpV1Xej87CECdHl9oV1IBAnA4/w640-h268/80.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><b><i>Skinamarink</i></b> - If I wanted to stare at several grainy, minute-long shots of ceilings and the corner of a couch while deciphering muffled audio, I would've dug out my family's home videos from the 90s. This extremely lo-fi approach to found-footage that isn't really found-footage has been generously (or accidentally?) labeled as "experimental," but it comes off more like a pretentious film student's failed, unfinished attempt to get his foot in the door at any major studio that will have him. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvH7Xt-EHgscAfIBpz7yjgN7qfTXRABalAHYOw7kO-nA1PEFv_-hO9N1CKdXwTFQTZ4qG6UxqQ7e6YA-DSG9jE2W0Cldt5ezSNUVTzZzkJts5H3lLx0fDTXKrbkOZyp3r0KEoyR-POqleZhgL5zyaLERp6_jJ0BpITBlBDKUWUkwYclImXy8/s1200/Zg6bskzQgJgRaMxaLgqgM-1200-80.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvH7Xt-EHgscAfIBpz7yjgN7qfTXRABalAHYOw7kO-nA1PEFv_-hO9N1CKdXwTFQTZ4qG6UxqQ7e6YA-DSG9jE2W0Cldt5ezSNUVTzZzkJts5H3lLx0fDTXKrbkOZyp3r0KEoyR-POqleZhgL5zyaLERp6_jJ0BpITBlBDKUWUkwYclImXy8/w640-h360/Zg6bskzQgJgRaMxaLgqgM-1200-80.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><b><i>The Whale</i></b> - Brendan Fraser gives a fine performance, but the treatment of his character, a grieving and dying professor homebound and haunted by memories and regrets, is cruel – both by director Darren Aronofsky and the supporting characters, most notably Sadie Sink as his estranged daughter, who is irredeemable. The film's cold and cynical tone fails to do any kind of uplifting or take a deeper look at the psychology of our protagonist. While it attempts to humanize a disabled individual, it sometimes portrays him through a lens that comes off more like a carnival barker soliciting you to gawk at a grotesque circus freak. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHLDAx75_8XnKPzcCt3UG_Mm99THw9FM_cAZIjPr2x1SXNIvGeQlrRySSBKrQyx77zQ9IL9nSx1uhwxdTRTuN1pZg1jfqXsKijg_8evsenMpyrlWW_5b765R2hmwX0ISuMK8UkTL6qj-_p2EgK4LJeYgcleHQuz45X_CypKLlKj3M1RqN2Kyo/s960/women-talking-blogroll-1669835420621.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHLDAx75_8XnKPzcCt3UG_Mm99THw9FM_cAZIjPr2x1SXNIvGeQlrRySSBKrQyx77zQ9IL9nSx1uhwxdTRTuN1pZg1jfqXsKijg_8evsenMpyrlWW_5b765R2hmwX0ISuMK8UkTL6qj-_p2EgK4LJeYgcleHQuz45X_CypKLlKj3M1RqN2Kyo/w640-h360/women-talking-blogroll-1669835420621.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><b><i>Women Talking</i></b> - Writer-director Sarah Polley's excellent meditation on abuse, speech, masculinity, and community is a gripping study. The Mennonite colony these battered women plan to leave behind is a microcosm for America itself, in unity as in division. The ensemble is a murderers' row of acting talent, including Jessie Buckley, Clare Foy, and Ben Whishaw. </p><p><i>@TheFirstEcho</i></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-160354461824742572023-01-04T14:26:00.034-08:002023-03-01T15:08:55.819-08:0023 Things To Do in 2023<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_BkgBgAejnBVvgU2aYM8j8Y-4jN8rvzaNgLgIRtgxZt5XheVhZUsAD4HpjUn_oUcdRIqfOwGtNhEdH-_kbSh1Q8P5voPMI2iXCYJirZLJbKiJiGBTtOjEoB_ZZOCOAOYzEwkLtLzlj2RlUflhqPki-EiGsXQuQZJj8YOLQN6Lh6U6LIUY1g/s1254/haalbare-goede-voornemens.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="836" data-original-width="1254" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_BkgBgAejnBVvgU2aYM8j8Y-4jN8rvzaNgLgIRtgxZt5XheVhZUsAD4HpjUn_oUcdRIqfOwGtNhEdH-_kbSh1Q8P5voPMI2iXCYJirZLJbKiJiGBTtOjEoB_ZZOCOAOYzEwkLtLzlj2RlUflhqPki-EiGsXQuQZJj8YOLQN6Lh6U6LIUY1g/w640-h426/haalbare-goede-voornemens.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>1. Book my trip to Turks and Caicos (the prize I won on <i>$100,000 Pyramid</i> last summer – humble brag).</p><p>2. Continue to be vulnerable. </p><p>3. Buy a bottle of Tobasco Chipotle sauce (that shit's good).</p><p>4. Visit New York in the fall. </p><p>5. Say the word "love" more often, particularly when it applies to other human beings in my life.</p><p>6. Finish writing <i>The Final Boy</i> (you've probably heard me talk about it ad nauseam; if not, it's the thriller novel I've been working on since 2019).</p><p>7. Get a new, bigger couch. My ass has been plopping down on the same one since 2009, and it deserves better. </p><p>8. Go to a concert.</p><p>9. Experiment with more colors in my wardrobe.</p><p>10. Don't hesitate to say what I want; there's no time like the present to authentically express yourself.</p><p>11. Delete Hinge off my phone. #iykyk</p><p>12. Be open to more...[<i>swallows, takes a deep breath</i>] karaoke experiences. *I won't sing, of course. But I will sit back and silently judge the drunken fools who go up on stage and add to the noise pollution.</p><p>13. Be less judgey.</p><p>14. Kick ass and collect donations for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society during my fundraising campaign that starts March 24. (*Link coming soon)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_ryrfqrgl0eBMNK3F-FB1Ui1CUPm8BaslTLJJO0hGM604renl4FBjOvrkqo7J098TlXPPiTP92v9V1cUmjwqCpRwVabyIGXKtZobrMlIiCzAC-mlu0vcFygLhgDrshy3nScoePgeaXsKSfuhvrprGnFyOKxalvBQwmG4AvdjrB6qey-ZpdY/s1440/324404370_698243215146235_7481862202483502585_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_ryrfqrgl0eBMNK3F-FB1Ui1CUPm8BaslTLJJO0hGM604renl4FBjOvrkqo7J098TlXPPiTP92v9V1cUmjwqCpRwVabyIGXKtZobrMlIiCzAC-mlu0vcFygLhgDrshy3nScoePgeaXsKSfuhvrprGnFyOKxalvBQwmG4AvdjrB6qey-ZpdY/w300-h400/324404370_698243215146235_7481862202483502585_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p>15. Drink more water. </p><p>16. Enjoy more happy hours in L.A. while I'm capable of it. </p><p>17. Meditate.</p><p>18. Despite so much loss, grief, disappointment, injustice, horror, and trauma in the world, trust that everything will be alright (at least in my own little corner of the universe). </p><p>19. Restrict my movie theater popcorn intake to once a month. </p><p>20. Listen to Madonna's <i>Ray of Light</i> more often in honor of its 25th anniversary. (It really<i> </i>is that good.)</p><p>21. Write more, whatever it is. </p><p>22. Cross more off my to-do lists. </p><p>23. Forgive myself if I don't complete everything on this list. </p><p><i>@TheFirstEcho </i></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-5630868889079775972022-12-21T13:36:00.041-08:002023-01-03T13:48:33.455-08:00FROSTOLOGY: The 2023 Winter Playlist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbusRwky0INdNQ_iHxxgN_NxHEmmxv0GIy6BZxCyJlGwv2BPNk8likW0bKtzgMtAfXJZUJ1h-onclN9gkNxYxyi0nbYnKLWyJg-cXRxNSKaG-B5UTCzLNs05tIzpDKtWOC9tZwwdedEBn1XAmRiITgt1zxuYlwJmXwbjktUujbQK7KXxHOis/s1440/D50664EC-43D9-4A8D-9A05-9E0AA909A96B.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbusRwky0INdNQ_iHxxgN_NxHEmmxv0GIy6BZxCyJlGwv2BPNk8likW0bKtzgMtAfXJZUJ1h-onclN9gkNxYxyi0nbYnKLWyJg-cXRxNSKaG-B5UTCzLNs05tIzpDKtWOC9tZwwdedEBn1XAmRiITgt1zxuYlwJmXwbjktUujbQK7KXxHOis/w640-h640/D50664EC-43D9-4A8D-9A05-9E0AA909A96B.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>Once again, we near the end of another year with hopes, dreams, and clean slates for the new one. And once again, I am planning to kick off the new year with some new tunes that will accompany me as I dive into a major new chapter of my life (new work, new relationship, a renewed sense of family and self). Well, maybe not <i>dive</i> – more like <i>wade through</i>. Diving implies a forceful impact that makes a splash; I'd rather be gentler with my entrance into 2023. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hope you enjoy my latest compilation of tracks. The weather outside may be frightful, but my playlist is so delightful...</div><p>
</p><center><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="380" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/6r7NciojNwT6yLSrUVNEjd" width="100%"></iframe></center>
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@TheFirstEcho</i></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-19477069731153234622022-09-30T09:02:00.003-07:002022-10-22T23:56:25.311-07:00Christina Aguilera's 'Stripped' at 20: Filth-Forward and Prescient Pop at Its Finest<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQ2ocf9f8qDK79ko55DZX2OruAo9YUW13h1GWqkF0acCmCq8JFID0jocSsqKWteEZvaJTaXLYjJiGs5GVb-1TVmJvpqmIfWrJCPwo3CYrE3qEeWzT52nafBfNvEDXykbE1HRqRDqNq_jIx2JI0wkfH9cfpyvyjNwEChLh7-8pBMwbbrHDBLA/s1480/5ab55752331fe0cbc1d8cb0c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="833" data-original-width="1480" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQ2ocf9f8qDK79ko55DZX2OruAo9YUW13h1GWqkF0acCmCq8JFID0jocSsqKWteEZvaJTaXLYjJiGs5GVb-1TVmJvpqmIfWrJCPwo3CYrE3qEeWzT52nafBfNvEDXykbE1HRqRDqNq_jIx2JI0wkfH9cfpyvyjNwEChLh7-8pBMwbbrHDBLA/w640-h360/5ab55752331fe0cbc1d8cb0c.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><p><i>The Village Voice</i> called it "nü-Mariah on mood stabilizers, extended with pseudo-pastiches of semi-popular songs." <i>Entertainment Weekly</i>'s David Browne gave it a C+, saying its singer was "afflicted with Premature Serious Artist Syndrome" while exhibiting "plenty of elastic skill but little joy." And over at <i>Slant Magazine</i>, Sal Cinquemani commented that it was "overproduced and overwrought."</p><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
In October of 2002, Christina Aguilera's <i>Stripped</i>, the highly anticipated follow-up to her 1999 self-titled debut, was released to mixed reviews, especially as critics (and the zeitgeist) were still nursing their collective hangover after witnessing the jarring visuals from the music video for the album's grimy lead single, "Dirrty." (<i>The Guardian</i>: "majestically filthy.") The 20-track collection was undeniably ambitious in scope, blending R&B, rock, gospel, jazz, and power pop in a way that fans hadn't experienced before. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Back then, we knew <i>Stripped</i> was a wake-up call aimed at Aguilera's followers and the music industry. It was the then 21-year-old's attempt to break free from the Teen Pop mold that had a chokehold on her and her peers at the turn of the 21st century. (*<i>The album also happened to inspire this writer, then 22, to venture into the real world after graduating college and living on his own in a new city</i>.)<br />
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The introductory track made the message abundantly clear: "Sorry you can't define me / Sorry I break the mold / Sorry that I speak my mind / Sorry don't do what I'm told." <i>Behold "Xtina" and her bold, new aesthetic! </i>In trite terms, it was the loud-and-proud transformation of a sugary-sweet pop princess into a feisty, cornrowed, assless chaps-wearing wild child who did whatever the f**k she wanted.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
Of course, hindsight is always an interesting thing, and <i>Stripped</i> now represents so much more. And to understand just how much more, we need to take into consideration the pop culture climate at the time of its birth. The fall of 2002 was an awkward time in America. We were still recovering from nationwide trauma and bracing ourselves for the one-year anniversary of 9/11. We were in need of a release, a distraction from the dark times the 21st century was threatening. One such distraction was the allure of reality competition television; we crowned our first <i>American Idol</i>, giving us a new sense of entitlement as pseudo-gatekeepers for new artists. <br />
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And twenty years ago, we still didn't know how to handle or react to a young female artist who dared to take the reins of her career and steer herself in a bold new direction. Rare at the time was a singer her age who had the gall to experiment with such range. She was damned if she stayed in her lane, and she was damned if she moved away from formulaic fodder – a catch-22 built on the foundation of a veiled misogyny that was still alive and kicking in 2002. And now? We're so glad she took the risk.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmqzwCRkk4XQ_97gO0VlvipYGxriVtw9vhtfTWiWDdfIyKmNN832pluFYO7Lg1jDs0u3ek2D1m_IS_ZU8xdAs3Mxja1OPjV3HaF46XYwIrSGSc0GlyJO1PDXn9ImNWhivM3XDtjdCNCb3XYyGS7IMaDeKgDL_IZ1lTSeJx92ygkmL7EpoyaZI/s1778/59ebf6a6180000310ddfba07.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="1778" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmqzwCRkk4XQ_97gO0VlvipYGxriVtw9vhtfTWiWDdfIyKmNN832pluFYO7Lg1jDs0u3ek2D1m_IS_ZU8xdAs3Mxja1OPjV3HaF46XYwIrSGSc0GlyJO1PDXn9ImNWhivM3XDtjdCNCb3XYyGS7IMaDeKgDL_IZ1lTSeJx92ygkmL7EpoyaZI/w640-h360/59ebf6a6180000310ddfba07.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Such reinvention became a useful strategy at the start of the 2000s. Alumni of the Teen Pop Boom of the late 90s were taking chances with their images and musical stylings. NSYNC's second album celebrated the boy band's liberation from the shady puppeteers that did them wrong; it was aptly titled <i>No Strings Attached</i> (2000). P!nk's <i>Missundaztood</i> (2001) was a refreshingly daring collection of hits that was the result of her collaboration with Linda Perry. Even Mandy Moore's self-titled follow-up (2001) experimented with–gasp!–<a href="https://youtu.be/XkKOybWbUNM" target="_blank">Southeast Asian sensibilities</a> before the term "cultural appropriation" was thrown around. </p><p>These young acts had learned a thing or two during their first outings. They wanted to prove that they were no one-hit wonders. Call it the New Millennium Effect. Not only was it a new decade, it was a new century, and there seemed to exist an air of ambition never felt before in pop music. Rules were broken, risks were taken, and record labels were defied. </p><p>But no one did it on such a level like Christina. In retrospect, <i>Stripped</i> is possibly the most criminally underrated pop album of the 2000s. It's, to use the title of one of the album's tracks, <i>underappreciated</i>. While Britney carried on with her not-that-innocent antics, and other imitators pumped out vapid singles, Christina defied expectations. Rather than spit out more factory-made fluff, Aguilera took three years to perfect an album that she could be proud of, paying homage to her musical influences and helping her boldly stand out from the litter of like-minded TRL acts. </p><p>As a result, <i>Stripped</i> was a declaration of independence that has undoubtedly influenced pop's female artists of the past decade. Selena Gomez made it known that she took a page from Christina with her 2015 album <i>Revival</i>; the album's cover is actually an homage to Stripped's provocative black-and-white pic. Demi Lovato's <i><a href="https://youtu.be/4QwRk4Hjzq8" target="_blank">Tell Me You Love Me</a></i> earned high marks from Christina for its deeply personal content and vocal range. And even Miley Cyrus shed more than her golden locks during her <i>Bangerz</i> era at the end of 2013. <i>Stripped</i> ultimately paved the way for current pop that celebrates and pushes individuality, positivity, hopefulness, and above all else, confidence. (<i>Hi, Lizzo and Ava Max</i>.)</p><p>
</p><center><blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p dir="ltr" lang="en">.<a href="https://twitter.com/AvaMax?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@AvaMax</a> cites Christina Aguilera as one of her influences:<br /><br />“I always sang songs with big vocalists in it, like Christina Aguilera, so my entire life I knew that I always wanted to do it that way, that I wanted to express myself with my voice.” <a href="https://t.co/5zT4aJpR3F">pic.twitter.com/5zT4aJpR3F</a></p>— Pop Crave (@PopCrave) <a href="https://twitter.com/PopCrave/status/1089361832253554689?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">January 27, 2019</a></blockquote> <script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script></center>
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What was once criticized as a schizophrenic mess can now be applauded as a showcase of vocal versatility and a maturity beyond her years. Aguilera turned hip-hop-flavored dance anthems, rock-tinged foot stompers, and inspirational ballads into her calling card for future reference.
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That said, from the deep cuts to the chart-toppers, every piece of <i>Stripped</i> deserved a chance in the spotlight. It's one of those rare albums that can be played straight through without skipping a track. Every song works in its own compelling way: </p>
<p>
Let's start with <b>"Dirrty."</b> This visceral introduction to Aguilera's new era takes the coy sensibilites of "Genie in a Bottle" and proudly, <i>aggressively</i> throws them in the trash, lights it on fire, and hosts an orgy around the flames. The message is simple and, to this day, a concept many still can't grasp: girls just wanna have fun...expressing how horny they can be – just like the boys.
</p><p><b>"Can't Hold Us Down"</b> is not only the album's thesis statement, it's a battle cry, exposing the double standards in pop music (and society), featuring Lil Kim, Xtina's fellow femme-fatale-in-arms from 2001's "Lady Marmalade," and <a href="https://www.vice.com/en/article/d3dpby/christina-aguilera-stripped-gender-equality-15-anniversary" target="_blank">it is as relevant as ever</a>. <i><a href="https://www.billboard.com/music/pop/christina-aguilera-stripped-anniversary-influence-8014854/" target="_blank">Billboard</a></i> asked, "Who else was talking like that and owning it with an equally open and sexually positive image in 2002?"
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"Walk Away"</b> is a slow-burn confessional about resisting seduction. "Your love was like candy, artificially sweet/ I was deceived by the wrapper," she coos. <b>"Fighter"</b> picked up the torch left by Destiny's Child's "Survivor" and gave music supervisors of boxing movies a track to play during their inevitable training montages. Meanwhile, the mega-hit, <b>"Beautiful,"</b> which earned Aguilera a Grammy for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance, became the anthem for literally everyone on the planet. </p><p><b>
"Infatuation,"</b> Christina's excuse to capitalize on her Latin roots, is also a love letter to the bad boys she tended to attract while she was amping up her image and creating fodder for the tabloids. <b>"Get Mine Get Yours"</b> is an ode to sexual exploration in which Xtina unabashedly <a href="https://youtu.be/_StD5uFuOBs" target="_blank">demonstrates that she is DTF</a>, delivering an anthem for one-night stands everywhere. On R&B slo-jam <b>"Loving Me 4 Me,"</b> she channels her inner Janet Jackson. <b>"Impossible"</b> is a surprisingly intimate jazz lounge number that soars <a href="https://youtu.be/XZSVNm0t3OM" target="_blank">with the help of producer and pianist Alicia Keys</a>. <b>"The Voice Within"</b> was practically written and produced for the closing credits of an underdog movie.
</p><p>
The rest of the album continues to crackle with energy and fly with emotion. <b>"Make Over"</b> is a surf-rock-friendly shriekfest courtesy of songwriter Linda Perry, who taught our girl how to both gritty up and reel in those powerhouse vocals. <b>"Cruz"</b> proves to be a harmonious power ballad perfect for road trips, the kind that celebrates leaving all your troubles behind. <b>"Soar"</b> is not only a track that appeared in the<a href="https://youtu.be/Hropd_Q0bBU" target="_blank"> trailer for Jessica Alba's <i>Honey</i></a> (you know you remember it), it is a source of inspiration, delivering a hopeful message via Mariah-esque theatrics. And finally, with <b>"I'm OK,"</b> no one expected Christina to sing a song about domestic abuse, <a href="https://youtu.be/W6JMQzUj-9A" target="_blank">but here she is</a>, confronting her childhood demons and delicately venting to the world with vocals that never sounded so vulnerable.
</p><p>
One can only hope Christina Aguilera's legacy inspires more empowering, exciting artistry. And if it calls for another attention-grabbing stunt like assless chaps bouncing across a boxing ring and into our collective pop consciousness, then so be it.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-16742183262927977142022-09-21T10:56:00.002-07:002022-09-21T10:56:23.431-07:00HIKOFRIENDLY: The 2022 Fall Playlist<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkk8nje0cGe1oQHA2bdGjvIVdsX90xhEadI9g5QxuAuu9CnHf5BTeeXZymouLlZ1Ygb3jiEBJMOKO_UdMuG-6YZn9BG3092-CvyrdDdD3lPqpkepjt-7IyKXRutNr1Ka5AcKO62EwOhCeQOYsi4aHzH3YY2P9447ZrPtXF_5WBu9StTOn8wnA/s1500/A863B70F-5AC3-4E8F-BC4D-BB5E7B90FCF7.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkk8nje0cGe1oQHA2bdGjvIVdsX90xhEadI9g5QxuAuu9CnHf5BTeeXZymouLlZ1Ygb3jiEBJMOKO_UdMuG-6YZn9BG3092-CvyrdDdD3lPqpkepjt-7IyKXRutNr1Ka5AcKO62EwOhCeQOYsi4aHzH3YY2P9447ZrPtXF_5WBu9StTOn8wnA/w640-h640/A863B70F-5AC3-4E8F-BC4D-BB5E7B90FCF7.JPEG" width="640" /></a><br /></p><p>I recently returned from a 10-day cross-country road trip, and naturally, before departing, I had to put the finishing touches on my latest quarterly playlist so that I was well-stocked for the freeways of America.</p><p>Kicking it off is a repeat appearance of "Body Language" by Dreamers to reiterate its awesomeness, but the real highlight is my previously mentioned Song of the Month, Ava Max's "Million Dollar Baby."</p><p>So, wrap yourself in a cable-knit sweater, watch the leaves turn, and press play:</p><p>
</p><center><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="380" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4XjHHQGb7SpnnywNrxSoan" width="100%"></iframe></center>
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@TheFirstEcho</p><p></p><p></p>Hiko Mitsuzukahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05888094379742150022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33190662.post-61197048951995635542022-09-19T10:58:00.023-07:002022-09-21T11:08:32.764-07:00The Great American Road Trip of 2022<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWRQWsZVZar7RgfVusV5i4jhsHQj5xlhyDtZk2RtgRrtyhq5mfurkLYMZjo5vofUeVIMdFWedcXQMAsFUTAeJFOkn2O_xqhtOV63KWP349Mzz_uNmweaZ6MkfPCCfAFrJoqnWCfdrR_uCo5m22kSDLlK6V5ALxubctY2EIuTWJFiFPcWvLuY/s1146/HikoSedona.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1084" data-original-width="1146" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWRQWsZVZar7RgfVusV5i4jhsHQj5xlhyDtZk2RtgRrtyhq5mfurkLYMZjo5vofUeVIMdFWedcXQMAsFUTAeJFOkn2O_xqhtOV63KWP349Mzz_uNmweaZ6MkfPCCfAFrJoqnWCfdrR_uCo5m22kSDLlK6V5ALxubctY2EIuTWJFiFPcWvLuY/w640-h606/HikoSedona.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>After losing my car in a freak accident in L.A. earlier this summer (<i>while I was out of town</i>), I inherited my late father’s car in Florida (<i>a long process to clear after an auto shop damaged its engine – long story</i>) and took a piece of him back to California with me (<i>before taking more of him back to Japan later this month</i>). </div><div><br /></div><div>All that said, I'm grateful to have reconnected with some friends and family along the way. I saw some great sights...and some that were not-so-great (<i>Proud Boys waving their flags on an overpass outside Sedona, Arizona</i>). Check my IG for some more pics. <p>
</p><center><p></p><blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-permalink="https://www.instagram.com/reel/CisYx6rvvMw/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" data-instgrm-version="14" style="background-color: white; background: #FFF; border-radius: 3px; border: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.5) 0px 0px 1px 0px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.15) 0px 1px 10px 0px; margin: 1px; max-width: 540px; min-width: 326px; padding: 0px; width: calc(100% - 2px);"><div style="padding: 16px;"> <a href="https://www.instagram.com/reel/CisYx6rvvMw/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="background-color: white; background: #FFFFFF; line-height: 0; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; width: 100%;" target="_blank"> <div style="align-items: center; display: flex; flex-direction: row;"> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 50%; flex-grow: 0; height: 40px; margin-right: 14px; width: 40px;"></div> <div style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; 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