My first exposure to Jonathan Coulton came via the Revenge of the Book Eaters charity event (reviewed here), where he was the "strolling minstrel" for John Hodgman and Dave Eggars. Then it was the hilarious song "Still Alive" sung by the mad computer in the game Portal.

But the thing that pushed me over the edge of "like" into the glowing chocolate hippie dance of "love" is the genius that is the song and accompanying video "Flickr." I first heard the song on a Radio Free Burrito podcast dedicated to Coulton courtesy of Wil Wheaton. Yes it's a bit silly, but it's done with such obvious affection that I actually get a little choked up when I hear it. And when you think about it, it does manage to capture modern America in a good-natured, ribbing sort of way.

I need a barbecue break.

In fact, I need a break from just about everything, so it's nice that events have conspired to put me in the position I currently find myself.

Last Saturday we hosted another barbecue, this time for my friend Bob and his family. More sangria was consumed, ice cold beer was near at hand for the grilling, and the weather held out to enjoy an outdoor meal and some fun watching Jack play with their 4-year old son Bobby. Jack, like most kids I know, just wants to run with the older crowd, and every time Bobby came near him he shrieked with the joy known only to toddlers and the insane. I checked with Bob and his wife to make sure Bobby wasn't going to impart any bad habits like throwing toys or smoking, and then relaxed to enjoy the day.

Sunday came and went, and with it not only the end of barbecue for a few days, but the Missus and Jack as well. Due to a lack of babysitters for the week, Gerri was forced to take a week's vacation, and decided to use the opportunity to go upstate with her mother, aunt, and grandmother for a few days of good old fashioned Italian revelry, leaving me to a few days of wonderful, crazy freedom.

Ah, freedom. A (slight) return to the days of sublime bachelorhood. The baby seat's out of the car, the smell of diapers has left the building, and the music can played as loud as I feel like. Ten minutes after they left I plugged in my amp for what feels like the first time in months and wailed on my guitar as only a 35-year old man who rarely if ever practices can.

Oh, the neighborhood was alive that night with the sounds of "Smoke on the Water" and "Iron Man" that night, let me tell you.

Then it was a call to the pizza guy, a quick trip to the video store, and it was like I was back in college again, watching horror movies (killer crocodile movie ROUGE), reading comic books (Batman: No Man's Land) drinking free beer (Bob's Corona, left over from said barbecue), and living the life of the single man.

Within 15 minutes four slices of the pizza (pepperoni, onions and green peppers) were gone. Within 30 minutes indigestion, nausea, and exhaustion left me curled up on the couch, forgoing everything but whimpers to a God who was at that moment laughing His Eternal Ass off at my stupidity. I went to bed around 10:30, vowing that the morrow would not be squandered.

Oh, who am I kidding? There's still half a pizza sitting there, and the beer is ice cold right now...

This weekend we're having my college freshman roommate Bob (aka Fat Suggestible Zombie Dad) and his wife and son over for another round of golden delicious barbecue. And I say "another" because although this is the first time they'll be coming to the house, I recalled that we had a similar barbecue a few weeks ago with Indie Maven Sean and Victoria. Which prompted me to post some pictures of said barbecue:

Indie Maven Sean and Victoria. Sop now you can faces to the names.

Jack's obsessions with phones trumps his fear of facial hair. If I go more than a week without shaving Jack starts to become a little wary of me. Although that may be because a week of facial hair on me frankly looks ridiculous. Sean is obviously much more capable of sporting a decent beard.

The Missus, after a couple glasses of sangria and the relief of not having to entertain our son every second of the day - at least for the next few hours.

Unable to adequately capture the ferociousness of Wii Boxing, I settle for this blurry shot. Playing the Wii is at times physically demanding and elicits some interesting vocalizations. From the other room the sounds of my wife and Victoria playing the Wii was, shall we say, stimulating....

Ugh. Now I feel slightly dirty. I'll leave now on that thought.

That's Jack helping his mother fill out paperwork. In six seconds he will grab the chain and start running, prompting a chase sequence reminiscent of the Chaplin shorts that played all day Sunday on Turner Classic Movies.

For the past few months Jack's had a constant fluid presence in his ears. We finally brought him to the Long Island Jewish Hospital Hearing and Speech Center to have his hearing tested. His measurements bordered on slight impairment, which may explain some of the issues we've been having with him lately. So the next step is to go to an ENT specialist (Ears, Nose, Throat) to look at possibly having tubes put in.

I'm wary of the procedure, but on the other hand I don't want to waste any time if it means it will help him hear and help him to develop quicker. It's funny how in the grand scheme of things this is really nothing; while I was there waiting (they only allow one parent in during the administration of the test so the Missus went) I saw numerous people of all ages that had much more severe issues than Jack does. But that never seems to matter. I've been learning rather quickly that, although I'm able to maintain a semblance of calm on the outside, the slightest concerns or worries about Jack leave me terrified.

Everyone with more experience tells me that's a perfectly normal father response, but it still bothers me that I have a much trouble as I am "keeping it together."

I plan on spending a little more time over at the movie blog; this article was written as a sort of introduction to what I want to accomplish.

Bear witness to my shameful admission: I have a serious problem with stockpiling. Movies, music, books...my house is a virtual Barnes and Noble for the Missus and I. Always afraid a moment will come when I won't have something to do, I frantically collect everything I have even the slightest interest in, fearful that if I don't get it now, it will dissipate into the ether forever, and my soul will be the poorer for it.

DVDs, with their succulent cover art and ever-expanding set of additional features are the biggest bullies in the bunch, which is particularly odd because movies have the least excuse for stockpiling. It's a law of the physical universe to be no further than 3.2 miles from the nearest Blockbuster Video, I've been a member of Netflix for almost eight years, and films are readily available in the local branch of the library (legally) and online (somewhat less legally). And yet my stack of unwatched DVDs climbs on, reaching new heights of intimidation and shame while ever-beckoning my son to come a little closer to its teetering verticality (huh?) so that it may crush him under its massive weight.

I tried watching a movie a night to whittle down the numbers, but every Tuesday brings new reasons to feed the beast. Every review or recommendation must be pursued so that I can comment on it before the novelty wears off. Every film book offers a new director, a new film to be devoured, digested, and ultimately excreted in conversation or commetary online. Recently I've taken to throwing out the plastic cases and storing most of my DVDs in leather binders, and even that's starting to take up too much space, as well as making the physical pile of discs, well, angry...

But I can't help it. It's a vicious circle I willingly subject myself to. If there is a perfect adjective to describe my fixation it's "adore." I adore movies. The more I see, the more I want to see. And it's not enough to see and walk away - I want to understand, to know why certain scenes move me the way they do, what a particular lighting choice or a framing device means in both the scope of the story and the larger themes at work. When I read something by people like (but not limited to) Roger Ebert, Jim Emerson, Pauline Kael, Harry, Moriarty and the cads over at Ain't It Cool, Keith Uhlich, Matt Zoller Seitz and the incredible group of writers over at The House Next Door or Dennis Cozzalio at Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule, the intelligence and style is tremendous but overshadowed by their abundant and obvious love for movies of all kinds - the obscure independent foreign feature to the latest summer blockbuster. It's this giddy joy and exuberance that thrills me more than anything else, because I know it's a feeling shared by all of us who, whether under cover of darkness or loud and proud wear the hat of the movie lover, the geek, the (dare I say) cineaste.

I harbor no illusions concerning my own writing about movies. Like everything I've written on the web it's a striving to express, as cogently and accurately as possible, my thoughts and feelings on the subject at hand. After a couple years I'm still finding my voice, taking tentative steps toward fresh perspectives and ideas, and slowly piecing together an identity that complements what I want to say. A lot of the reviews on this site are okay, a very few are, in my mind, more than good. There's more than a couple that are complete shit. You and I will in all liklihood disagree on which are which. And that's totally fine.

So I'm going to try and keep the Beast at a reasonable size by watching, and writing, whenever I can. And whether it's a classic from Criterion, a low-budget horror flick, or the latest hit at your local theater I'll endeavor to bring something worthy of the film and of myself to each review or article. I'm pretty notorious for throwing posts up with little to no editing, only to go back a day or two later to refine and correct, and I guarantee that'll be the case here. There's a great article by Evan Derrick over at Movie Zeal entitled "10 Ways to Become a Better Film Critic" and the ideas he illustrates are things I'm trying to incorporate more into my own writing.

But none of that really matters if this all exists in a vacuum. So any feedback, agreements or disagreements, ideas, questions, anything is greatly appreciated. In the meantime I'm making a bigger effort to be a presence at some of the better known sites, and am looking forward to continuing to be inspired by movies and the people who write about them.

And if the preceding paragraph wasn't enough if a Hollywood Ending for you, may I present THE SEARCHERS.