Steven Berlin Johnson, the guy that everyone knows from his spectacular article on Devonthink and his scientific book (none of which I’ve read… yet), just launched a website called Outside.in, which is basically a hyperlocal content aggregator. Most of the syndicated feeds are neighborhood blogs that post a lot and are organized typically by zip code. You can register and look up your zip code to see what everyone’s talking about in your neighborhood — It’s great.

Unless there’s no one talking in your neighborhood. I checked all the zips I’ve lived in, and New York is easily the most trafficked with posts, but the 90066 zip in LA has a lot of posts, too. Nothing in Hermosa Beach or Rohnert Park yet, and the only hits I get for Ballard a couple of posts from Seattlest (nothing from Seattle Metroblog) so far. The potential for growth here is immense, and what with all the time I’ve taken to set up a folder for NYC on Google Reader, it seems like I can have much more accuracy in neighborhood awareness with Outside.in than anything else. Something to keep an eye on.

The kids have been asking (actually, it’s probably the same one that asks Owl) where I live. I guess a little explanation is in order. I went to school today to help walk he kids to the Lower East Side Tenement Museum and sat in for a little while on the talk the tour guides were giving. One of the kids thinks Owl is from a different country — Seattle. I was asked the same question today:

“Where do you live? What country are you from?”
“Brooklyn. I’m from the country Brooklyn.”
The kid next to him laughs, “Brooklyn is in New York Country!”

Ma and Pa Owl are in town and we took them to Union Smith last night. I have an Oral Presentation to do tomorrow morning on the Internet Archive. I have a new song for you, and only because last week we were sitting in Wogie’s and a duo of songs that remind me of Seattle came on: A Movie Script Ending (DCFC) and Neighborhood #3 (Arcade Fire). This is only tangentially related, becase Walla recorded it. Enjoy, and have a good weekend.

P! Online is presenting a daily online re-print of Powers, by Brian Michael Bendis. I had gotten the tipoff on this from jonas a long time ago, but never actually got around to buying this until I found it randomly at Rocketship in our neighborhood. Now it’s being presented online as a daily serial, page by page, with storyboarding and extras including the script pages, so you can check it out without having to plop down some cash for it.

I really like the Detective Walker character in this; his whole persona is a little Clark Kent-ian to me, the exterior seems to be really well-played as a more hard-edged guy than he really is. There’s also a lot of unexplored superhero mythology and mystery in regards to origins — and without getting too outlandish and careless. Unlike DMZ, another book I picked up last week, the dialogue is imminently readable and effortless, as well.

I’d wait a few more days if you are the impatient type, since the online version is only on page 4, but it’s really worth the read.

A special weekend edition for anyone around itching to talk about the matchup tonight. We sat around here in Brooklyn watching the Mets game the other night, with Adam Wainright’s filthy breaking ball and Beltran frozen on the pitch that he probably couldn’t have done anything with even if he got the bat off his shoulder. I have to tell you, much like everyone else, the Cards are certainly not the favorites coming up.

brl is here getting ready for the wedding he’s attending, and I bet you he’d say the same thing.

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It’s all about context. While I’m not too familiar with Boston, the picture Scorcese paints of it is bleak, steely and intricate. That context is immediate, but when you talk about the film, you end up talking about Scorcese, and Raging Bull, Mean Streets and Goodfellas. The context here isn’t subway cars or Joe Pesci, the boxing ring or otherwise; it’s Scorcese putting his best foot forward in a strong character-centric crime tragedy.
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I’ve been sitting here at work and yet again, a vindictive cat has peed in my corner. My boss knows about it, and said she sprayed it to prevent it from happening again, but I don’t know what she sprayed it with. Cat pee, maybe.

Anyways, I saw The Departed on Monday and have been planning on writing something up on it but haven’t had the time. I’ve been busy doing other school-type. The good news is that Sister Christian just came on, and the smell is fading.

I kept a running tally of things I’d watched while Owl was gone in Seattle, but I lost track of episode numbers and eventually thought about how pathetic it would look seeing that I watched some twenty-odd hours of entertainment of strictly film and television. Battlestar Galactica was definitely in the mix, and I have to say the season premiere was much better than the two episodes I caught from the second season. I also saw Inside Man, which was entertaining and also came with the informative nugget: Spike Lee is almost 50!

So, I was thinking, if I liveblogged another tv show (I know, what the hell am I thinking), what should it be? I’m open to anything, because hell, I’m snarky about everything, but I prefer something that I’d watch anyway. Baseball tends to work best for West Coast and MST folks, so if there’s a game you want to get in on, let me know. Otherwise, ignore me completely.

Anyone that pays attention to hip-hop knows that Jay-Z announced his triumphant return release for November 21st. You knew he’d be back. A song leaked on Friday, and it’s called Jay-Z Show Me What You Got and it’s over at Prefixmag.com.

It’s live, for sure, but the horns and drums are reminiscent of Kanye’s Touch the Sky. But we all know that Kanye can produce, but he can’t rap like Shawn Carter. Everyone knows Rumpshaker, too, which is funny. But why? The explanation is over at XXL Mag. And then you’re like, “Oh, yeah, this is So Crazy in Love.”

You tell, me: Jordan with the Wizards, or Jordan playing baseball?

I had intended to put this up earlier today because it was already on the server, but work stuff precludes website stuff, most of the time, anyway. But here it is, with a foreword of explanation.

Rick and I wrote a short cartoon and he animated it. A few of us did the voices, but then Rick got a new job and then I moved away, so it’s in limbo-land right now. This is the opening theme we wrote and recorded for it. I think it’s pretty fun.

Owl just left for Seattle and now I have to write a research report on John Shaw Billings, so I’ll catch you later. Have a good weekend.

[audio:opening.mp3]

The other day the main grocery store in our neighborhood was locked down along with a few block radius because some crazy guy held a woman hostage with a knife. I didn’t know any of this was happening, of course, because I was at school, and thank goodness Owl hadn’t gone to the grocery store that morning. Also, that undercover cop should have his own TV show. Dude shot the attacker in the NECK and is now known as Hero Cop.

Also, I overhead a dude on the phone on my way to work:

“No, you should have sprayed that dude in the face. Don’t ever hesitate to use your mace.”

I imagined00 someone on the other end sitting on the couch with a huge chain-mace with a heavy spiked ball on the end; and the person just looking at it wistfully, as if a wasted moment led the mace to be unused and unloved.

Note: I actually did this yesterday, and when I was done, I thought it a complete waste of time, but I did it, and it’s done, so why not put it up. I actually thought it was already up, but apparently not.

The first post-season game of the year. I’m liveblogging it, via Tivo. The game’s probably over by now, but I’m doing it anyway. Do you care? Probably not.

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Last week when I was hanging out with the cable guys all day trying to get our shiznit connected, I walked out the door with one of them — there were actually two cable guys, neither of whom were very talkative, but one of which I had brief conversation with regarding the Pirates — he had a Pirates cap on.

“You like the Pirates?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“I like that Jason Bay.”
“That’s all we got.”
“Freddy Sanchez is good.” Trying to find the light.
“Inconsistent.” Shot down.
“No pitching.”
“We need pitching,” he agrees.
“Oliver Perez was good for a season.” Trying to find the light.
“No.” Shot down.
“With the Mets now, though.” Change the subject.
“No pitching.” Shot down.
“Bad market for pitching this year, too.” I’m giving up.
“Yeah.”
“No pitching,” I tried. “You sure you don’t want some water or something?”

It reminded me of that Seinfeld episode where Jerry is talking to the naked guy in the subway about the Mets.

Anyway, my initial point was, while I was walking out the door with the Primary Cable Guy, I call him that because he was the one doing most of the work, we catch some dude smoking a joint on our front porch. He immediately drops his spliff and crushes it out on our front step and jams out of our front yard.

I barely recognize what’s going on, but the PGC knows, and he’s like, “That guy’s smoking weed in your front yard!”

Stupidly, I say, “Really?”
Dude looks at me, “Can’t you feel it? Can’t you smell it?”

I could, and for a long time I thought it was our mailman taking a break from delivering mail and enjoying a little afternoon delight. Note: not the same Afternoon Delight that The Starland Vocal Band enjoyed.

The CGs were pretty curt with me up until that point. And as they finished their job, I tipped them, and it was like opening the flood gates:

“You know that guy was getting fresh in your front yard,” PGC was livid for me.
“Yeah, I know.”
“I would have called the cops, but it’s not my house. I know that guy doesn’t smoke weed in front of his house.”
“Yeah. It was the mailman, right?”
“No, it was some delivery guy. Moving guy.”

I wish I remembered what company it was. I can’t imagine moving other people’s shit while high. Wouldn’t you just want to sit on the couch you’re moving and watch the TV you just carried up that fourth floor walk-up? Isn’t that what happens in all those commercials?

I didn’t call the cops, basically because I had very little information for them, and it seems like everyone gets high in our neighborhood. The other day some dude was rockin’ a huge blunt right in the subway — less than a hundred feet from an MTA worker. Wasn’t harming anyone, but I thought that thing was gonna hotbox the whole station.

Big City Stuff. Small college town pothead-type stuff. At least they weren’t smoking crack. That’s a different story.