When I first saw Marilyn Monroe on screen, I was watching Some Like it Hot in my Shakespeare in Film class during my senior year of college. We all have our preconceptions of Marilyn. She's a tramp. She's a hussie. She died far too soon. Nothing you think about her, though, holds a candle to who she actually is — or was. But what do I know. I never knew her.

All I have are movies, and when I first saw Sugar Kane jump aboard the all-girl-band's train to Florida, it was almost like seeing a goddess. Marilyn Monroe, on screen, is so poised, beautiful and innocent. She's not a hussie or a tramp, she's just an actress, and a very good one. Watching her belt out "I'm Through with Love" in one of the last scenes of Some Like it Hot was truly memorable.

I've only since seen her bit part in All About Eve (another excellent film with the immaculate Bette Davis). The quench my thirst for Marilyn, I had Netflix send me The Seven Year Itch, a memorable comedy staring Marilyn and Tom Ewell. Ewell plays Richard Sherman, a middle-aged New York businessman who has just sent his wife and son to Maine to weather the brutal summer months away from the big city. Ewell's crazy imagination gets the better of him when his neighbors above him sublet their apartment to a strikingly beautiful young woman with a very striking resemblance to actress Marilyn Monroe (Monroe is actually referenced in the film, but we never learn the girl's actual name — she could very well be playing herself).

Richard wrestles with his desire to scratch his seven year itch and sweep the girl into his arms in spite of his dutiful wife (who he imagines is probably off on a flirtatious hay ride with Tom MacKenzie, a strapping young writer). Monroe plays innocent, professing her love for champagne and potato chips and eventually falling a little for Richard.

The movie is very cute, all because of Marilyn. She captures every scene she's in. Ewell is very charming as Richard, so much so, he came back to play the part the most of any part he played all his life (on Broadway after the film was released). The movie contains Monroe's most memorable scene — standing above a subway vent with her skirt being blown up.

Why don't they make women like Marilyn Monroe anymore? Furthermore, why don't they make actresses like her either? When's the last time you saw a movie and just fell in love with an actress, not just for her portrayal, but because you could sense a bit of the existential struggle she silently endured. I guess Hollywood just doesn't do that to them anymore. Something that got lost in the wash of million-dollar salaries.

Well, at least we can look back. I feel like seeing Some Like it Hot again, but perhaps Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. We'll see.

If you haven't seen Marilyn, if you are just unaware, you need to see her. You'll be glad you did.

Marilyn Monroe: "I think it's wonderful that you're married! I think it's just delicate."
Richard: "You do?"
Marilyn Monroe: "Of course. I mean I wouldn't be lying on the floor in the middle of the night in some man's apartment drinking Champagne if he wasn't married."
Richard: "That's a very interesting line of reasoning..."
Marilyn Monroe: "Sure, with a married man, it's all so simple. I mean, it can't possibly ever get drastic..."

As you sit in your cool, air-conditioned home, likely far from the sunny state of California, you might wonder how things are going here in the Golden State. It's beautiful, as always, but unfortunatly our golden sunsets (as I captured gloriously just the other day) are accompanied by miserable days of high heat and near-daily brownouts.

Since moving to Visalia, I have gotten several cautious words about the seasons here in California. For one, it only rains in the late fall to early winter, and just a little rain goes a long way (ever heard the emergency broadcast signal for a shower? I have). Also, winters in the Central Valley bring in notorious fog. Just this year, one pernicious day of fog resulted in a 40-car pileup on Highway 99.

The few words of warning I shrugged off concerned the summer. As I and so many other people have learned, summers in the Central Valley send temperatures up into the triple digits. Fortunately, it's not humid often and the discomfort usually lasts just a week in the summer. Unfortunately for me, this summer seems to be the exception:

California residents sink to new lows as heat reaches new highs
The Associated Press

LOS ANGELES — In a land of sun worshippers, the heat has become the enemy.

Weeks of record-setting, triple-digit temperatures have turned California into a surreal tapestry of heat-induced torture: goldfish cook in their bowls, milk curdles as it's poured and sweat-soaked civilians stand in line for public "cooling stations" as if they were the latest trendy clubs.

In a region where 119-degree days are very recent memories, nothing is off-limits. One woman shaved her overheated cat; another man fried the proverbial egg on a Burbank sidewalk; a third advocated sliding between the sheets with stacks of frozen gel packs.

I'm currently still using my stovetop to cook eggs and my milk is safe in the refrigerator, as far as I know. I had such a pleasant time on the coast this weekend, it's amazing what a difference some marine air has on this awful heat. Maybe if that "big quake" happens in a couple of days, shaving off a few hundred miles off the state leaving Visalia a beachfront city, I might be able to enjoy some of that relief on a daily basis.

For now, I guess I'm just going to have to bake.

Sorry I've been so scarce. I had a positively dreadful week last week. After my hike up Alta Peak and the excruciating sunburn I received because of it, work was such a drag. Monday and Tuesday was just unbearable, I somehow made it through to the end of the week. I had to work on Friday night, which is always a bore, but this weekend I had the distinct pleasure of seeing my good friend Padmini in Southern California.

Padmini is involved with Teach for America and she is teaching a class of bright kids in a Compton middle school, and from the way she tells it, these kids are very lucky. Granted, they struggle in an unequal education system where they have been neglected for years, but thanks to the dedication and hard work of Teach for America teachers like Padmini, they have a fighting chance.

I had the lucky opportunity to whisk her away from this god-saving work for a superficial day out on the town. We went to this delicious Indian Food restaurant on Sunset Boulevard. I hadn't eaten anything all morning, and though I was not sure what I was eating exactly, I had every bite. It was fantastic.

Afterward, we parked down by the Kodak Theatre and took a stroll down Hollywood Boulevard. We sorted around through American Apparel and took a stroll down the Walk of Fame. I am sad to say I did not find Humphrey Bogart on the walk, but I did see Marilyn Monroe! She's in front of McDonald's, but as Padmini said, it's was probably not always there.

The weather this weekend in California was positively scorching so after some water and a milk shake (and another trip to American Apparel) we headed back to Long Beach, where she is staying. We hooked up with B.J., another friend of mine from college, and we ventured to yet another vegetarian restaurant. Au Lac. We all shared vegan lobster, salmon and sweet and sour chicken. Afterwards, we went to a great tea shop and played some games. I must point out that I dominated every game of Connect Four and there was significant cackling involved with a sinister game of Uno (which I also won, at least once).

I stayed over the night and after a delightful drive through gay Long Beach, we had some bagels and I headed home. It was the most fun I've had in Los Angeles by far. I'm looking forward to seeing Padmini at her new digs in Las Vegas. Maybe some day, after she's made it as a successful teacher and performer at the legendary Cheetah gentleman's club, I'll let her take me on in Connect Four again :-)

But I'll still win...

I'll be sure to update more this week. I'm planning some stuff on this persistant heat wave, maybe the Bush veto, the violence in the middle east, but sadly, no more InuYasha. I'll only beat that dead horse if it comes back from the dead...again.

Of all the things I could have done Sunday, the last thing on my list was climbing an 11,240 foot mountain. I could have slept in, partied it up into the wee hours of the morning in Fresno Saturday night or even talked to my long-lost expatriate friend who lives in France (who actually called when I was on the hike!) I guess, having lived so close to Sequoia National Park for so long and still not having the pleasure of visiting, my curiosity got the better of me.

I have hiked a few mountains in my day. Compared to the peaks I see just outside my window every morning, you could more accurately describe my past experience as mounting glorified hills. California mountains are no joke. I was a big fearful the altitude and terrain would be a challenge for me, but I can honestly say I did quite excellent. It was quite a ride though.

In preparation of my Mt. Whitney hike on August 6th, I went with a friend from work to tackle Alta Peak, a 6-mile hike. We started out from Visalia at 6:30 a.m. and didn't make it to the trail head until 8:30. The drive up was fantastic. You take 198 through the foothills and finally along side the Kaweah River into Three Rivers. From there, it's up until you get to Sequoia Park and then up several windy roads. You could see Moro Rock as we drove higher up into the park. Finally we got to the Giant Forest and I got my first glimpse of the world's largest trees.

We started at Wolverton and the first hour and a half just flew by. We hiked through about 2 miles of woods and it was fairly easy. We saw a deer right on the onset of the hike and I got a nice picture of its butt. Once we made it to Panther Gap, you could see out into the mountain range, it was pretty spectacular. We passed this rock that's supposed to look like a bear, but it looked like a big rock to me. The hike sort of dragged at this point and I got pretty annoyed at the steadily sharper grades as we approached Alta Meadow. I told my fellow hiker who had only talked me into the trek a day earlier that I had several four letter words saved for her once we finished this hike.

"Oh, you mean 'fun' with two N's?" she retorted. Yeah. Right.

After Alta Meadow, a mere two miles from the peak, it started to suck. The grades became as severe as 19% and it became very difficult to keep a steady pace without taking frequent breathers. The altitude never gave me more than some sinus trouble and some shortness of breath, but I gave myself the benefit of a doubt if I felt too strained. Better to take it easy the first time.

We finally got to the point where the tree started to disappear and the peak finally seemed to be in sight. Even this late in the summer there remained pockets of snow all around the peak. It was a relief to put a pile of that on my head. As I ascended, there would always be a pile of rocks blocking my view of the top and it would always seem to be just beyond them. I'd push it to get up to the rocks but there always seemed to be another outcropping, which quickly became very annoying. Finally, with the site of a fellow hiker triumphantly perched at the peak, I bee lined it straight to the summit.

It was quite a view. There were a lot of flies, that was annoying, but you've got to give it up for the view. I even saw Mt. Whitney in the distance. It's amazing to think I will be at the top of the Sierra Nevada range in just a couple weeks.

Long story short, the descent was easier than the climb, but descending the steep grades was very bothersome for my knees. I almost slipped several times. I tore it up through most of the trail and we made it out a whole hour earlier than planned.

I wish I had more adventurous friends and family that would be willing to share an experience like this with me. I too often hear people complain about how they could never accomplish such a feat. It really isn't that bad, you never know you can accomplish something as daring as a mountain hike. I remember thinking Kennesaw Mountain back in Georgia was so incredible, but this was 10 times the difficulty as that. It's an incredible feeling surmounting a height like Alta Peak. I can't imagine what Whitney is going to do for me.

In the aftermath: I have a nasty sunburn, my legs were surprisingly filthy (I wore long jeans!) and I am thinking I might do it again next weekend to further train myself for Whitney. We'll see how that goes, I'd like to see a friend of mine in Long Beach, so maybe it will be a SoCal weekend instead of another day touching the sky.

God I love California.

I know I should just get off it, but come on...she's really dead! I mean, I know I said she was going to die last week, but the bitch exploded into a blaze of light and souls. I don't think anyone walks away from that.

I mean, there are some many things I could be writing about, but I can't help it. There's a budding war in the Middle East (one we didn't actually start), Valerie Plame is suing Karl Rove because Patrick Fitzgerald is too much of a pussy to indict him and I am faced with the daunting reality that I may actually die hiking up Mt. Whitney in less than a month (more on that later).

And all of this is going on and I still can't stop thinking about Kikyo. I mean, it's not like the death of Superman or anything, but it's like a damn Greek tragedy. You know the kind. She's like the tragic hero, except in this case everyone refers to her as the tragic priestess Kikyo. She's doomed to fall in love, falter in her sacred duty and suffer an untimely death. And even after all that happens, after she's brought back a vengeful, walking-clay pot of her former self she's still brought down like a dog. It's just typical.

It isn't the first time one of my favorite heroines has bitten the big one (twice even). We all remember Buffy, don't we? At the end of season 1, they pull that whole, "she's fated to die at the hands of the Master" crap and sure enough, she falls into a puddle and "dies." Luckily, someone was paying attention in CPR and she dodged that bullet. We all thought she was home free.

But then, four years later, when she should have just thrown her sister off Glory's twisted Tower of Babel, she makes up some crap about their blood being the "same Summer's blood" and chucks herself to her own untimely demise instead. I, of course, ignorant of Internet spoilers, didn't see it coming and was completely blind sided. Fortunately, slayers are more like the phoenix than the lamb, and she was back with bells on by the end of the next episode.

Let's have a reality check for just a moment. Yeah, Kikyo has drifted up into the sky among a convoy of soul collectors, but who says this is the end? I mean, she's been stuck down before, who says she can't come back as a phantom or a vision? Who says she can't be some possessing spirit? She could come back from beyond on a visit and provide key insight in our hero's bleakest moments and then drift back up to wherever it is clouds of souls go.

Anyways, it's over now. The manga can now march in a new direction. With Kikyo out of the picture, I guess Kagome should give Inuyasha maybe a month to mourn for his twice-dead lover and then swing in for the rebound. I mean, they look exactly the same in the manga, it shouldn't be hard for him to adapt.

Well, she said not to mourn, so it's time to move one. Hopefully there will be no moving scenes in next week's issue and I won't feel compelled to waste this space talking about it. Here's hoping!

I haven't gone many places since my marathon last month, so I figured I would venture out this weekend. Some very good college friends were visiting San Francisco and I couldn't miss the opportunity to see them. I jumped into my car (after forgetting like 3 essential items before leaving) and finally I was off.

I've been to San Francisco twice before, and as a non-California native, I think I finally got it right this time. The first time I visited I came with a friend who matriculates at Stanford University in Palo Alto. We took the Caltrain up and ventured to Fisherman's Warf, Pier 39 and Ghirardelli Square. We had a fabulous, long day, but we hit most of the tourist traps that offered little lasting satisfaction. Bummer.

For New Year's, I went with a friend from Sacramento to party it up in the city. I thought for sure we would see the better parts of the city, seeing as alcohol would be involved. It was very rainy on New Year's Eve, but I made it to San Francisco in plenty of time. My friend, however, was rerouted several times because of landslides on the interstate, so she was 4 hours late! I was stuck in the city, all by myself, on New Year's Eve! I ventured around where I had landed (which was, oddly enough, the one place I wanted to see on my first visit, the Castro district) and spent copious amounts of time perusing Safeway and plugging away on my computer at Starbucks. When my friend finally did show up, we had a fabulous time, but I feel like I could have done more.

This time around, my friends and I poked around the Haight Ashbury and it was very much worthwhile (enough for me to shrug off parking illegally and incurring a $60 parking ticket). For any of you who aren't away, the Haight Ashbury is this area in San Francisco where all the hippies went to die. I saw so many old hippies! Also, lots of dogs strapped to parking meters on the street, psychedelic painted vans and all sorts of beatnik-themed shops (and a few too many corporate sellouts, sadly).

We ate at this very cool sandwich place and I got this delicious lettuce, fried green tomato and eggplant parmesan sandwich. We looked at some of the shops, I got a comfy shirt from American Apparel. We went to Amoeba Music where I feel like we spent a whole hour looking and listening to music. I finally picked up the new Snow Patrol album as well as Republic, an older New Order album that was on clearance for only $3 used. I also noticed the Flaming Lips had released a special album entitled The Fearless Freaks, which according to the album's intro was released on a limited basis at SXSW. It contained a haunting live version of "The Observer," one of my favorite Lips songs, as well as a rare track titled "Enthusiasm for Life Defeats Existential Fear."

After this, I drove my friends back to their hotel and I took on the arduous task of leaving the city. It was hard enough getting to Union Square when I arrived. You might find this hard to believe, but for a left-leaning city like San Francisco, you can't make any left turns. It makes it very hard for a newbie like myself to find his way out of the Labyrinth by instead of making a left turn, having to make three right turns.

It was great visiting, I wish I didn't have to leave so soon. It would be nice spending the night again. I did venture to my favorite Safeway to buy some Soy Crisps. It's a shame I ate them so quickly...

I can't believe it. I mean, who would have seen it coming? It appears the tragic priestess Kikyo has died. Or is dying, whatever.

Ok, so why is this a big deal? Well, I don't know. Kikyo is the lost love of anime/manga character InuYasha. Technically, this isn't the first time she has died (and it might not be the last), but since the manga is steadily marching toward its big conclusion, I am forced to consider that this is indeed Kikyo's swan song.

I got into InuYasha about 2 and a half years ago out of curiosity. A friend of mine was very into anime, this one imparticular, and all of a sudden I was pulled into the plot. The anime follows the adventures of InuYasha and Kagome, his friend and budding love interest, as they battle demons in feudal Japan. Kikyo was InuYasha's lover from 50 years prior who sealed him to a tree as part of a tragic betrayal involving mistaken identity and their easily broken love and trust for one another. It's a very mythic, captivating story (if you really try to get into it). It reminds me of the Greek myth of Eurydice, but that's another story.

Anyways, Kikyo comes back from the dead, and she's kind of a bitch at first, but eventually she cools down and gets her eye on the ball and dedicates herself to defeating the anime's primary foe, Naraku. The anime ends rather prematurely, as manga chapters come out once a week and after 167 episodes there were no more manga chapters to adapt. After the finale, the manga continues though, and it has for almost two years now.

I eventually found a great site last summer which posts translated scripts from the manga. I followed it through some pretty exciting developments, all up until this week. Having come face-to-face with Naraku and his twisted ambitions, Kikyo finally makes her attempt to destroy him and fails. His jyaki (weird Japanese word translated in the anime as miasma) overcomes her and starts to kill her. Passing her bow to Kagome and spending her last moments with InuYasha, it is presumed in the next chapter Kikyo's life will end...

And it sucks! I only bring this stupid thing up because Kikyo has been a sort of hero for me, in a sick, twisted way. Even though Kagome is the best woman for InuYasha, I have always been sympathetic to her cruel fate and have been rooting for the lost love to take InuYasha away with her into death. Even though that's not likely to happen anymore.

I wrote two poems about the anime. That's really crazy, but for some reason the story inspired something in me. The figures I explored then were InuYasha and Kagome, but I have not explored Kikyo's voice yet. I know she will be the last in this trilogy of poetry, but I have spent the past few months pondering what I have to say for her. On the one hand, she's so strong and composed. On the other, she is bitter for losing her life and having to go on living a frozen death. She's very seldomly forthright with her feelings, which makes me wonder if she would be sentimental at all. I'm still thinking about it, but maybe this development could give me some ideas.

Anyways, if you have any interest, I suggest you venture out onto the Internet and read the chapter. It's really sad to see her go...

As the fallout of the disclosure of the SWIFT banking surveillance program expands, more right-wing conservatives are jumping on the band wagon and bashing the news organizations that published the story. One of my favorite conservative blogs, the California Conservative, blasts the Los Angeles Times' recent op-ed by Times editor Dean Baquet and New York Times executive editor Bill Keller as failing to address the central grievance against the publication of the story in question.

In the op-ed, Baquet and Keller discuss the role of the press when breaking sensitive stories like the SWIFT banking surveillance story, the NSA domestic surveillance story and even the historic Pentagon Papers case which then Justice Hugo Black said abolished "the government's power to censor the press ... so that the press would be forever free to censure the government."

The California Conservative breaks down the op-ed, line-by-line, ridiculing much of Banquet and Keller's points, eventually arriving at their point:

The decision to publish an article about an effective program that the NY Times says doesn’t break any laws because it’s “in the public’s interest” is a flimsy excuse to publish such a valuable program as the TFTP (terrorist finance tracking program, as best I can estimate).

Conservatives have blasted the papers on this point, wiping away the arguments of the papers with a single string of words: "The story compromises our national security." This is a powerful argument but I don't think this debate can accommodate it anymore. At least not until we acknowledge certain things.

The public editor, Byron Calame, for the New York Times wrote a great piece on the subject, exploring for himself the Times' decision to publish the story. One aspect he pointed out was that the Administration has only recently disclosed the program to Congress once they received word that it would be exposed by the media (this was also espoused by Think Progress in a recent entry):

Eric Lichtblau, one of the two reporters who wrote the Swift story, told me the administration briefed a limited number of Congressional leaders — apparently from both parties, but not the full intelligence or banking committees — toward the beginning of the program. It wasn't until the Treasury Department learned that The Times was working on the story, Mr. Lichtblau said, that the administration apparently briefed all members of the intelligence committees.

That alone, he says, is reason enough to publish the story. He also hits on the heart of this question posed by the California Conservative that I believe we will all have to address in the coming years — whether the surveillance programs employed by the Administration are temporary executive acts in a time of war or permanent shortcuts for enforcement:

Temporary emergency measures cloaked in government secrecy can too easily become permanent shortcuts. That's why oversight is important. It is also a reason to publish the article. The reservations expressed by some of the 20 current and former government officials and industry executives who were disturbed enough to talk to The Times were based on this concern: "What they viewed as an urgent, temporary measure had become permanent nearly five years later without specific Congressional approval or formal authorization," in the words of the article.

Is this program a temporary measure employed in this war on terror or is it a measure the executive will for years purport to have authority to maintain in the endless fight against terrorism? If the latter is assumed, this program needs Congressional oversight and approval, period. The Constitution is not a doormat, I'd like to think it still means something in this country.

I also take offense to many points of this debate. By simply spitting out those ominous string of words, you know, the whole "national security" argument, is never supported by facts. The press has addressed national security in publishing these articles. Baquet and Keller point out that mundane details that could be vital to terrorists were omitted because they did not deserve the public's interest. Not to mention the fact the the program has already been publicly alluded to for years (a fact routinely swept away by the California Conservative).

Baquet and Keller even point out the the writers of the Washington Post's secret prison story, which prompted an EU investigation, had the names of the countries these prisons operated in but declined to publish them. If the press had a vendetta against the Bush Administration and, as some pundits like Michelle Malkin purport, were jonesing to aid the terrorists in attacking us, don't you think the New York Times would provide full disclosure?

This debate is very serious and it should not be staged in a partisan way. The press holds a very important role in our society and it is an essential freedom that we are supposedly fighting for in this war on terror. As Baquet and Keller point out, "If freedom of the press makes some Americans uneasy, it is anathema to the ideologists of terror."