I Have Made It

I have officially made it. Yes, in this age of colossal advertising budgets and fake twitter account, I have risen to the top. Finally achieving my once ridiculous sounding dream of getting the name, Jonathan Crossley, into the public domain. Yes, you guessed correctly faithful audience, this blog has been linked to on another website. Granted, it is a website run by a good friend of mine, but she is really cool, so go read her stuff too.

Here is the link: http://www.columbia.edu/~ide2104/

Easy Catfish Town

Below this intro you will meet Kevin. No, Kevin is not a movie review (even thought that would be awesome), but he does happen to write them. Actually, Kevin writes them quite well, in reality, far better then I ever could. So I hope you all enjoy meeting Kevin and his very fierce ways.

Easy Catfish Town

Sometimes, a movie gets an inordinate amount of praise for mediocre work. Sometimes, a film looks like a lame ripoff but is freshly original and an experience all can enjoy. And sometimes, a film is so secretive you don't know what to expect, but it still manages to blow you away.


The Town is a thoroughly disappointing movie. Now, I'll say this: I didn't think that when I got out of the theater, nor for the car ride back home. It's only when I sat down and really started thinking about it that made me realize how poor the movie really is. First of all, the Ben Affleck-helmed crime thriller set in the Boston neighborhood Charlestown, is a poor interpretation of that neighborhood and that life. Affleck cast himself in the main role, which was a poor decision. Affleck is far too put-together and (put simply) pretty to fulfill such a dark, gritty role. Not only that, but other than Jeremy Renner as one of his partners in crime Jem, the characters are spectacularly flat. Rebecca Hall and Renner both do well in their roles, with Jenner easily taking the "Best in Show" mantle, but past those two, every other character fell flat. Character development was minimal, but even if you accepted that and just tried to enjoy the ride of the film, you weren't in for a very enjoyable trip. Why do these characters do this? What, exactly, is their modus operandi, other than scary masks and bank trucks? What was Hall's character really feeling? Why was Jon Hamm's FBI agent so dogged about taking down this gang? The more I think about the plot development (or, more appropriately, lack thereof), the more annoyed I get with the movie. Solid acting all around (with Renner and Hall as highlights), good direction, but poorly plotted and written. C+


Easy A is almost the exact opposite of The Town: a movie with little buzz beyond the 18 and under set, a young star, a bright outlook, and a (seemingly) trope-filled plot with a creamy cliché center. In truth, it is a fun, interesting, humorous, even, at moments, genius mocking of teen movies while being unafraid of being a teen movie itself. Emma Stone, who, you'll recall, was one of the best parts of the aptly named Superbad, and has kept a relatively quiet profile in Hollywood so far. She won't keep that low profile much longer. Stone is absolutely radiant in A as Olive, a girl who pretends to lose her virginity for an interesting story and winds up nearly ruining her life over it. In such a meaty lead role, Stone is a blast of fresh, sarcastic wit that you don't see in many starlets. She appears to be a comedienne first, star second, which is a nice change from others who look suspiciously like her (woe to you, Lindsay Lohan). Unlike the currently between-incarcerations starlet's Mean Girls, which relied heavily on the background cast to great effect, Stone carries much of this movie herself and does it with aplomb. She gets support from Stanley Tucci and Patricia Clarkson, Olive's parents who nearly steal the show with some of the best lines. The surrounding high school characters are less entertaining (though Amanda Bynes' hyper-evangelical character is priceless), and the dialogue can sometimes be clunky, and you can sometimes question characters' motivations, but the movie is so much fun, you can forget some of its lesser flaws. Definitely two of the most entertaining hours of film ever made. Stone is definitely the Best in Show. B+ for the film, but she gets (you know what's coming) an Easy A.

Catfish is innovative, fresh, interesting, a great topic of discussion, different, funny, awkward, uncomfortable, genius, entertaining, and frustrating all at once. It is a movie that begs to be seen and talked about after you leave the theater. I'm still thinking about it four days later. It is a completely fascinating film, and one that surprised me in all the best ways. I can't tell you anything about the plot, the genre, nor the characters, and trust me, you wouldn't want me to. Go into this movie blind: it's the best way to see it. Truly one of the better movies this year, no qualifier necessary. A-

Ant World

I built up anthills,
for the satisfaction,
of knocking them down.

What kind of person does that make me?

Refractions Through The Night

A trampoline is an odd thing. Regardless of ones age it can easily provide a myriad of entertainment. For example, kids jumping and doing the occasional flip during a birthday party, (However, punish the kids that does the double back flip, no one likes a showoff. Also, it may just be a liability, this is America after all.) Trampolines also give high school stoners a place to smoke and occasionally get laid, it allows college kids to contemplate philosophy in a place that doesn't serve chi lattes, and if arthritis isn't an inhibitor, the trampoline gives Grandma the satisfaction of realizing she was young once too.

Now, my circumstance is a little different, because the trampoline holds a very dear place in my heart. Without reciting to you my entire childhood tale, if I was Orson Wells, trampoline would be my rosebud.

Yet, tonight I found myself on one such contraption, jumping around, having a jolly good time (Yes, I know I just used the word jolly, but I've been wanting to use it all day, and this just seemed like an all too perfect opportunity. You down?) I was over at a friends house, and during those awkwardly timed bounces I was transported back to my glory days, the summer of 4th grade, where we ate ice cream, went to skate parks, screamed songs from car windows, and sleep overs were an already understood daily occurrence. We watched awesome cartoons, played on the street, launched rockets, and got into a little trouble. We watched the stars at night, lived our youth.

I am now back jumping on the trampoline of the present day, it becoming increasingly evident that the bouncing qualities I had as a 10 year old have long diminished. I fall down, and instead of getting back up I stare at the sky. Realizing that some of the light released from the stars I gazed upon as a child, may just be reaching me now, eight years later.

My friends leave the trampoline, already bored. They walk back towards the house, our phones, our cars. I stay, still starring at the sky, secretly hoping to rekindle some of the feeling from that amazing summer.

I wait. It never comes. Nirvana evades me, there will be no grand revelation this evening.

I stand up and walk back towards the house, keys jangling in my pocket, not missing those years, but simply remembering, for because I had them, I am me.

I feel you muggin' me, cuz

Illumination

Driving through a city of imaginary trends.
The sun doesn't rise here anymore,
hardly ever sets.
There is just light,
constant, omnipresent, moving light.

The lights from my car,
illuminate the trees,
brutally shoved in overpasses, divides, and exits.
Stripped of any dignity and birth they may have had.
They are not happy.

I turn off my lights.
Cars honk,
people make stupid little light hand signs as they pass,
they believe they are helping me.
Maybe help me avoid a ticket,
looking out for my safety. Maybe.

These buildings,
built on peoples dreams and aspirations,
made out of sand.

I am stuck in traffic, check my phone. I see the message.
Get me out of here.

I turn off the highway,
into the alleyway, something is calling me.
Home?
No.
Anywhere.

I stop and sit.
This is darkness. Pure, untouched, beautiful darkness.
I rabbit crosses the road,
it's the only thing really live in this city.

That and you, you're real. These people will never know you, but I did. I knew you.

The nocturnal world exists for a few more hours, but something is changing come the morning time my friend.

All the lights in the world couldn't stop it.

10:25

I climb into bed, the warm covers comfort my haggard body. The kind pillows unabashfully embrace my limb cranium. To say I am looking forward to the gentle embrace of sleep would be a gross underestimation.

It has been a long day. 20 hours to be exact.

I put my IPod on shuffle. My eyes close, then without warning, flutter open. My mind conjures an image of a soaring hummingbird on a glorious spring day. (Don't ask me why, maybe it was the rhythmic fluttering, but then again who really knows?} The sun shimmers, water glistens, people are out and about, walking, smiling, living. I feel sleep slowly encasing my body, my conscious begins to fade.

The first song ends. There is a moment of brief silence. Then the song comes on.

I am now wide awake. The ambient noise slowly filling my dorm room recreates your face with alarming accuracy. I see your freckles, your hair, your smile.

The piano part begins to slowly fade in and all the old emotions come rushing back; shock, pain, hate, anger, frustration, sorrow. I look out my window, and there are no stars in the night's sky. There are never stars anymore.

The lead singer begins to sing.

I remember the meeting. This was after they told us of course. We were all in that dam room. Some people were already crying, counselors telling us we would all be OK. We weren't all right, things had changed.

Taking a seat, I survey the room, study the sorrow, observe the tragedy. I feel numb, so fucking numb. Then after a few moments in this den of despair, it hits me; not like a wave or lighting bolt, but more akin to a stark realization, a realization of what has transpired here. What has occurred on this dark dreary anonymous February day. I look to my friends, and they seem shocked I am sobbing, crying for the soul of our lost friend. In truth, I am crying for us all.

I'm back in my bed. The chorus begins. That glorious chorus.

I return to the night I stood upon the top of a mountain, cursing at the world. For these few nocturnal hours, I am the harpy of the world, but no one is hearing my song, listening to my call, heading my wail. Do they even care? Are more important things really happening? Why do these people not stop? Do they not realize what has happened here? This is the end of us, this chapter of our weak, pitiful, mortal existences. We can never go back, never, do you here me? Never. We are done. We are fucking done.

The song ends, tears stream down my face, I turn off the lights. Go to sleep.

I awake the next day and smile, because I know that since I lost you, you will forever be with me.

Candy Workers Of The World Unite

This is an amazing piece by Marissa Medansky. She is obviously very talented. Enjoy.

ORATIONS OF A PRE-POSTCOLONIAL OOMPA LOOMPA TO HIS REVOLUTIONARY BROTHERS-IN-ARMS.

Comrades! Compatriots! Brothers!
Do you hear it? Do you hear that sound? No, my brothers, it is not the gentle rushing of the chocolate waterfall, nor is it the mournful echo of the workingman's bells. That, brothers, is the seductive anthem of liberation, the glorious timpani of salvation, the sweet siren song of liberty! I hear it, brothers! I hear it echoing all around us.

Do you truly think you are free, brothers? For nearly fifty years we have slaved away in this wretched factory. We have risked rabies in the Nut Sorting Room. We have faced radiation poisoning in the Television Room. We have slaved away as oarsmen for a gluttonous yacht of excess. The shackles of autocracy glue our hands to the machinery and batter us into submission. Reduced to minstrels, we are made to twirl and chant moralistic rhymes like some foolish band of second-rate court jesters. And at what cost to our dignity, brothers?

The time has come, brothers, to tear off the lederhosen of the imperialist aggressor. Join me in a crusade for freedom that will determine the future of our race for generations and generations to come. Raise the banner of liberty high into the air; wave the flag of independence until your arms grow sore and weak. Wonka asks us how long we will fight. I say that our struggle will not cease until the rivers of chocolate run thick with our blood and until every Oompa Loompa in this factory feels the drum of freedom beating deep within his heart!

Join me, brothers! Do not delude yourself with notions of complacency; do not indulge in this myth of paradise. We must awaken from our slumber and arise to throw the yoke of imperialism from our shoulders. Let us end this autocratic regime and reclaim our rights and liberties. Brothers, we must destroy the confectionery industrial complex once and for all!

Come, my brothers, and hear the music that plays all around us. Let us embrace the golden glow of freedom, rise to our feet, and let us never again feel the weight of oppression's chains on our wrists! Join me, brothers, and let us fight for freedom! Soon the revolution will commence, and we will seize control of the means of production. And that day, brothers, the factory will be ours. The factory will be ours! THE FACTORY WILL BE OURS!