The Apartment Across The Way -- Part Four

I have been delayed in posting due to travel. Thank you for your patience, and enjoy.

Part Four



                The next three days passed without incident. Hamilton spent the weekend taking a series of long walks, exploring the nooks and crannies that the city had to offer.  These walks helped him clear his head after a long week in the trenches. He watched the apartment across the way each night. No lights appeared. He halfway expected the light to reappear on Monday, but nothing out of the ordinary happened.

                On Tuesday he arrived home later than usual. He sprawled out on the couch without turning on one of the lights. He was unsure how long he had been laying there when a familiar flicker caught his attention. The light had returned. It had returned, but not in the same way. It had moved to the window on the far right of the building, and this time it was orange. It did its familiar dance, perhaps a little more agitated than the two previous times he had seen it.            

                Hamilton watched the light for twenty minutes, which again turned into five hours. When it finally vanished he looked at his watch. It read just after ten. He had spent his weekend walks wondering what these phenomena could be. The only scenario that seemed to fit was that someone in his building was responsible, flashing a flashlight from his building to the other. Still, he could not explain the changes in color, the man in the window, or that the light never appeared on the exterior of the apartment across the way.

                The radiator next to the couch began hissing. Hamilton rubbed his eyes and closed the radiator valve. He rose to his feet, poured himself a glass of water, and completed his door locking ritual. Then he slipped on his pajamas, closed the bedroom door, and fell into bed. He was more exhausted, without explanation, than he had been when he had arrived home. Hamilton flicked off the light and glanced a final time up at the apartment across the way. All was still. Without another thought, he rolled onto his side, and fell asleep. His sleep was dreamless.

Hamilton awoke with a start. His heart was racing. He glanced at his alarm clock, which read four thirty. The room was still pitch black. No lights from the courtyard were visible. The clock display provided the room’s only light. He was unsure of what had awoken him, until he heard a faint creak from the other room.

Damned old building.

He had been begging the super to come and take care of some old broken floorboards for six months, but had always been met with weak excuses. He rolled over to his other side to go back to sleep. A second creak pierced the air, louder than the last. Hamilton opened his eyes. The second was followed by a third, softer, but closer to his door. He held his breath and could hear his own heartbeat. The creaks were getting closer. Inch by inch, the sound of soft, measured footsteps approached his door. His eyes had adjusted to the dark room, and he stared at the door. A creak resounded from just outside.

                The door opened.

The Apartment Across The Way -- Part Three

                                                         Part Three

Hamilton jerked awake with a start. His heart was racing, but he had no idea why. The dream he had been having ran away as soon as he tried to remember it. There was a vague memory of something frightening. He reached out with his mind, but as soon as he brushed the surface, the dream was gone. He sat up, turned off the television, and checked his watch. It was three sixteen in the morning.

The adrenaline began to fade and Hamilton began to become drowsy once more. His neck ached from the odd angle he had slept in. He took a warm shower to clear away the day’s dirt, slipped on his pajamas, and fell into bed. The curtains in the bedroom were open, and he could see the apartment across the way. A light was on in the center-right window. Hamilton sat upright and peered at the lit window. It was opened about twelve inches.  A figure approached the window, wearing a baseball hat. The figure moved to close the window, then paused. Even with the light, it was impossible for Hamilton to see a face. He had the distinct feeling that the figure was staring at him. He turned out his own light. The figure closed the window, but remained looking in Hamilton’s direction. After ten or fifteen seconds, the figure walked away. The light disappeared from the window.

It’s just a new neighbor. A new neighbor with a strange light who is awake at three in the morning?  I guess I’m awake too though.

Hamilton got out of bed and made sure the apartment door was locked. He flipped the lock open, opened the door, closed it, and re-locked it. This strange compulsive ritual comforted him. He closed the bedroom door, flicked off the light, and got back into bed. After one last glance at the apartment across the way, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Part Four to come tomorrow.

The Apartment Across The Way -- Part Two

Part Two of our tale...

                The next day, Hamilton stopped at the liquor store on the way home from work to pick up a fifth of vodka. The week had drained him so he splurged on a bottle of Ketel One. When he arrived home he locked the door behind him and tossed his keys onto the side table. He filled a lowball glass with ice and poured a few ounces of vodka into the glass. The warm liquid knocked the edge from the ice, which settled into the glass with a rewarding crackle. He set it on the coffee table and turned the radiator knob on. He reached for the remote, but just as his hand touched the plastic, he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

                The light had returned, but in a different place. As you may remember, it had occupied the center-right window the previous evening, but tonight it had moved to the far left window. Hamilton was filled with curiosity. He had assumed that the building across the way, which appeared identical to his own, shared an identical floor plan. Working from this assumption, it followed that the light now occupied a different apartment. The light began its dance once more. Hamilton could not help but think there was something different this evening. The greenish hue from the previous evening was gone, replaced by a shade of electric blue.

                Hamilton sipped his vodka. It warmed the back of his throat, and carried warmth down to his belly. He returned his gaze to the dancing blue light. It reminded him of a pixie. The light lulled him into a trance, as it had the previous evening. He pulled back his visual focus, and the light blurred into tailed arcs. He sipped unconsciously. The scent of the vodka brought him back. He looked at his watch. Now, Hamilton normally arrived home at half past six o’clock, and he had done so on this particular evening. His watch read nine o’clock.

                Hamilton’s jaw dropped. He put his glass down on the table and stared at it, as if it would give him an answer as to the strange happenings of the last two evenings. Maybe it’s time to ease up on the sauce. I need to get out more. He looked back up at the window where the light had been. It was gone. This is getting weird. He pulled the curtain closed and turned on the television to remove his attention from the strange lights. Within a few minutes the noise from the television lulled him to sleep.

Part Three to come tomorrow.

The Apartment Across the Way -- Part One

As is usual, unemployment has given me more time to spend writing. Over the next few days I will be publishing a short story in parts. Below is part one. I would love feedback. Who knows, your view might change the course of the story. Enjoy.

The Apartment Across the Way

Part One

There was an apartment across the way, as is common in a large city. Hamilton had never been in the building. He had always assumed that its design mirrored his own. He lived on the second floor, but the apartment in question was on the fourth. The buildings were identical, boring six story blocks, standing no more than thirty yards apart. They were the only identical buildings on the block. The apartment in question was never of great interest to anyone, least of all Hamilton. He had never seen anyone in it before, despite his daily musings over his window sill. Hamilton had moved into his one bedroom apartment twelve years ago. In this time he had never seen so much as a shadow or flicker of life from the apartment across the way.

It was an average Thursday night in mid-February. Two inches of snow remained on the ground from the previous week, while a light dusting was falling from the sky. The temperature had been holding in the naughts for three weeks. A chill permeated the windows, finally forcing Hamilton to relent, and turn on his radiator. He sat huddled at the end of his leather couch, right next to the radiator, flipping through channels, looking for something to capture his attention. He settled on a basketball game and grabbed a beer from the fridge before sitting back and falling into his basketball induced trance.

Two minutes into the third quarter, Hamilton was jarred from his concentration. He looked around, startled, just like someone awoken from deep sleep by a loud noise. He peered out the window and noticed a light in the center-right window in the fourth floor apartment, across the way. It vanished as soon as he looked, but reappeared instantly, flicking on and off. It appeared to jump erratically. Hamilton could not stop staring at the light. It jumped and danced from side to side and top to bottom. Every few moments it disappeared, only to reappear and continue its movements. Hamilton stared for a few moments and turned back to the television.

Must be someone with a flashlight.

Thirty seconds remained in the fourth quarter. Hamilton rubbed his eyes. Almost an hour of basketball had elapsed in what seemed like a moment of staring at the light. He stood up and paced to the other side of the apartment, then returned to the window. He looked up at the apartment across the way. The light was gone. He waited a few moments for it to reappear, but darkness permeated the space. Confused and somewhat startled, he turned back to the game, just in time to see the team he had put a few bucks on in the office pool miss a last second shot and lose the game.

 
              Damn.

                He flicked off the television with a disgusted slap at the power button, doused and the lights, and hopped into bed. For thirty minutes he lay awake pondering the strange light and odd passage of time. He set his alarm clock, and, dismissing the light from his mind with a resigned sigh, fell asleep. 

Part Two to come tomorrow.

In Defense of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

The Indiana Jones franchise is one of the most popular of all time. However, after three films in the 1980's: Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989), it took 19 years for a fourth installment. While many critics gave Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull high marks, most of the fan community voiced disgust. I did not have a strong reaction either way in theaters, but after a viewing yesterday evening it occurred to me that this film took a great deal of undeserved criticism, and is a good addition to the Indiana Jones franchise. Let's address some of the grievances against the film. Reader input welcome.

Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford) uncovers the crystal skul

                              Aliens
I have heard this one too many times to not offer a response. Many say that ancient aliens are too ridiculous  for a 'believable' story. So the plot is ridiculous? Yeah. No kidding. This is Indiana Jones. The guy uncovered the Ark of the Covenant, the Holy Grail, and witnessed a man get his heart ripped out by an occult priest. Why are ancient aliens so hard to take? Having exhausted a good deal of traditional religious lore, it seems a fitting progression from the previous three films. 

 The Refrigerator and the Ants

The scene to the left caused a great deal of outcry and negative feedback. As with the aliens, it is pretty ridiculous. That is the point! What is cooler than a hero that survived an atomic detonation? 

The giant ant sequence is the second most often maligned in the film. Tough to argue with that one. If you are unfamiliar, a fight scene is interrupted when the combatants come upon a massive hive of hive-minded giant ants, so mentally connected that they climb on top of one another to reach prey. It's out there, but that's Hollywood.

                            Too Much Hindsight?

Marion Ravenwood returns

When we wait many years for a sequel, nostalgia can become overehelming. Overindulgence in this nostalgia can ruin films. The reboot of the Star Trek franchise in the last few years has taken its fair share of criticism in this regard, and Star Wars fans pensively await Episode VII. Some argue that Crystal Skull is overindulgent, but there is just enough to make the film work cohesive with the earlier trilogy. My favorite moment in the movie comes when Dr. Jones informs his students that to be good archaeologists they should spend more time in the field, reversing his mantra from the previous films, "Seventy percent of archaeology is done in the library." Bringing Marion Ravenwood back provides a good link to the past and welcomes a character that many wish had been present in Doom and Last Crusade. Filmmakers did not make the mistake of bringing back Connery or Rhys-Davies. One character was enough, and it felt more than satisfying. To answer the question, there was just enough hindsight to make sure it was Indiana Jones, but not so much as to repulse.

No words- just awful

  

The Complaint I Will Concede - Shia LaBeouf is TERRIBLE

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade is the best of the four films, in large part because of Sean Connery's role as Henry Jones Sr. It seems that the Ford and Connery's terrific father-son dynamic inspired Lucas and Spielberg to make another attempt by introducing Indiana's son, Mutt. I stand by their decision to introduce a son, but LaBeouf's greaser-bad boy-wannabee was terrible, and he failed to deliver anything close to a good result. Mutt's character does not develop throughout the story and has no rapport with his father. Every exchange degenerates to him calling Jones "old man." In my mind, LaBeouf's performance and character is the only inexcusable misdeed done by the filmmakers.

STRONG POINTS

Harrison Ford

The years did not take away anything from his portrayal of Indiana Jones. Everything is still there: the fighting, sly smile, moral fiber, intelligence, and resilience. Even more impressive, Ford did all of the stunts he possibly could. His physical fitness showed. The result? An Indiana Jones who has gotten older, and maybe lost a step or two, but is still tough as nails. He owns the character and the screen throughout.

Villains 

Vladimir Putin

Col. Dovchenko (Igor Jijikine)

The main antagonist is Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett). Spalko's goal is to tap into the psychic power of the titular skull to use psychological warfare against the United States. While more covert than previous plots it fits well with the Cold War theme. Blanchett plays the possessed and dutiful servant of the state well, and the swords are a nice touch ("an elegant weapon, of a more civilized age" anyone?). What she lacks in physical presence is filled in by her henchman, Colonel Dovchenko (Igor Jijikine). He was one of the best surprises. Something about the character was humorous while intimidating (uncanny resemblance with Putin, right?). 

Final Thoughts

The purpose of this outpouring was to give a maligned film a fair review. Casting, with the exception of LaBeouf, was excellent. John Hurt put in a solid performance as the crazed Dr. Harold Oxley, and believably transitioned into a lucid version of his character for the final ten minutes. Karen Allen's return as Marion Ravenwood was welcome and vital to tying the film to its predecessors. If anything there could have been more of her. All the hallmarks of the old days are there: the hat, the deductions, Indiana getting out of absurd situations, exotic locales and a hero who can somehow always manage a grin. It may not be the Indiana Jones of years past, but I thoroughly enjoyed Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of Crystal Skull and highly recommend it to anyone.

As always, comments welcome below.

Panic! to Death

Panic! at the Disco's new single "Miss Jackson" hit the airwaves on Monday. The song is  If you haven't heard it yet, give it a listen below.

"Miss Jackson" is an unwelcome departure from the material on Vices and Virtues. Vices and Virtues returned the band's sound to the realm of their debut record, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, after a tryst into Beatles land with their sophomore effort, Pretty. Odd. 

After giving a few listens to "Miss Jackson" the prognosis for Too Weird to Live, Too Rare to Die! is poor. My initial excitement at a favorite band releasing new material wore off instantly. For some reason the new trend for pop-punk bands is to embark on a R&B/pop odyssey adventure or something (read my review of Fall Out Boy's Save Rock and Roll here). Panic! appears to have aimed for Fall Out Boy's new 'pop sensibility,' missed, and hit a bus full of puppies. I can't wait for an attempt at this song live. Energy has always been Panic! at the Disco's best attribute, and songs like this give them no way to display it. The song is a snooze.

As much as I disliked Ryan Ross' contributions to Panic! at the Disco, the most noticeable difference post-split is a decline in lyrical quality. Choruses have turned into wannabe-anthemic pop hooks. 

I don't want to leave you with the idea that I hate bands for changing their sound. I am a proponent of developing sounds and musical exploration, just not when it is terrible.

I'd love to hear other opinions. 

Time for a Coffee Shop Post

The facade of Cafe Grumpy

It's been a month in New York now, so it must be time to write a post about a hipster coffee shop. Fortunately I found one within the first week. I journeyed to Cafe Grumpy once more last weekend, and returned with photos to go along with this review. I can not claim to be a coffee connoisseur, but I can distinguish from the dregs I normally drink and what Grumpy had to offer. There are several locations throughout New York, but I have only been to the one in Chelsea, on 20th Street between 7th and 8th Avenues. Their website can be found here.

View of from inside the door

The first thing you notice, or not notice, is that there is a distinct lack of signage. The facade in the picture (above and right, can you find yours truly?) contains all of the visible markings, save a small picture of a grumpy face above the door. While I was saved by someone sitting on the stoop with a coffee cup, my friend was not so lucky and walked past the door several times before realizing what it was.

A variety of sweets

Once inside, the feel of the shop is much of what you would expect from a Chelsea coffee house, a worn in physical environment with a youthful feel and creative set up. The main room reminds me of the older homes in Charleston, South Carolina, very long front to back but narrow from side to side. The interior walls are brick, providing a homey feel. There is a variety of seating, with elevated tables in the photo above, an open seating room in the back, and a back patio for sunny afternoons. 

Open seating in the rear

On my first visit I played it safe and ordered their Colombian blend. Going along with the youthful feel, your order is taken on an iPad, and you write your signature with your finger on the touchscreen. Each cup is hand brewed in front of you, and served in quality dishware. I cannot emphasize how nice it is to get a cup of coffee in a ceramic cup, instead of the cardboard I have become used to. The Colombian blend was delicious, and only sets you back $3, more than reasonable for coffee these days, especially in New York. My friend ordered a cappuccino and gave it high marks. 

The back patio

 My second visit I ordered my usual Americano, which was also excellent. On this visit I also sampled their banana nut bread that mixed well with the flavor of the espresso. After two visits this has become my favorite coffee shop and I highly recommend it to anyone. The staff was friendly and service was prompt. Check out Cafe Grumpy next time you need a cup of coffee New York City, that is, if you can find it.