Five For FRiday: 2012, Motherfucker. CAN’T WAIT

2011: old ‘n busted.  2012: new hotness.  Ya gotta have shit to look forward to.  Here’re some of FR‘s for the year to come.  Certain Mayan calendars (or whatever the hell) think the world’s gonna end over the next twelve months.  Not over here.  Bring it, future.  King Kong ain’t got nothin’ on us.  Or you.

Travis: Being a Grown-up

Throughout my twenties, no matter how (ir)responsible I might have been, I always kind of resented people around me, people my age, who seemed like adults. You know what? Being an adult is actually pretty dece. There is nothing cool about being a grownass man, and that makes it great. You wanna go drinkin’ on a Tuesday? Have fun. I’ll be watching some SportsCenter, calling it an early night, and happily blaming it on my thirties. The Spoon tickets are on me, as long as there’s somewhere to sit and the show’s over by eleven.

Nathan: A Dangerous Method

It’s already been released in most major American cities, but David Cronenberg’s newest film won’t hit Asheville until January 7th, so this gets counted as a 2012 item for me. In preparation for this psychodrama about Freud and Jung, I’ve been catching up on a number of Cronenberg’s past films, including Scanners, The Dead Zone, and Rabid. Each one of those films includes a heavy does of Cronenberg’s venereal horror (phallic blood-sucking objects coming out of an orifice in a woman’s armpit!), which makes a verbal duel between Freud and his Mentor all the more appealing. I can’t wait.

Tyler: The Dark Knight Rises

Rises scares me.  Not only is The Dark Knight one of my favorite movies of the last ten years, probably ever, it was the launching pad for one of the most memorable moviegoing experiences of my life.  I’m past now my period of loving the midnight debut, lining up and drawing excitement from being ONE OF THE FIRST ONES THERE when a film is released, but I remember with ecstatic fondness the evening I saw Dark Knight.  I’d worked with my best Chicago friend, we’d bought tickets for a 3 A.M. screening downtown, and an amiable stoner named “Spark” was to accompany us.  One of our managers, the also-amiable Kyle, slipped his way into our company, hungry to join the fun.  We got cut around midnight, maybe eleven, and retired to my apartment, where my exhausted roommate was none-too-pleased (a bedroom door was slammed, pointedly) with our efforts to remain awake, pounding beers, slapping Wii Woods and indulging…well, one other mild vice.  We filled flasks, swung through a convenience store for fresh Red Bull and smokes, and made our way to the theater.  Kyle had to settle for a separate theater–I recall waving to him, mugging faces back and forth, as we all waited in line–but we got there, all hammered, and took our seats for this absurd pre-dawn screening.

I’d feared I’d just pass out, us being us, young and dumb and dishonoring the chapel of the medium I adore.  We were amped, though, too (I still remember Spark at work that night sweeping up to me, purring “Why…so…SERIOUS??”), so we sat as the lights went down, ready for action, endured the previews, fell into the movie, and then the pencil scene happened.  That crowd gasped.  So did I.

From there, I was taken.  Of course, we kept up our silliness, and the subtleties of that masterful picture had to wait for further viewings to set in.  But we had a ball.  The movie was fantastic.  Kyle danced away to a taxi as we slugged out into daylight, so surreal, and Spark straight-up disappeared.  Josh and I hailed a cab back to my place, floor shifts looming in about ten hours, and we redacted a redacted (“Oh, it’ll help you with that hangover, man.”) before he left and I crashed.  I regret nothing.  The trailer is incredible, but expectations are so high.  Dark Knight Rises, do me a favor?  Please, pretty please–don’t let me down.

Travis: The 2012 NBA Playoffs

I’ve become a pretty huge professional basketball fan in the past couple of years, and for me it’s a very freeing sports-watching experience because I don’t necessarily have a particular horse in the race. There are a number of teams and players I can root for on a given night or during a given playoff series, because I don’t have any real hometown allegiance, and it allows me to really appreciate the amazing shit that goes on when an entire different species of superpeople does awesome things on the hardwood, both individually and in team form. I can root for Kobe Bryant and his non-existent ligaments to try and win a final championship on the back of nothing but sheer will and a weak lineup of Laker teammates. I can hope Paul Pierce on his rival Celtics does the same. I can root against the Miami Heat because they made the mistake of declaring themselves many-time champions when they (apart from Dwyaywyaneyane Wade) have never won shit, while still being amazed by some of their individual play. I can hope the likable Mavs repeat, while also hoping my favorite player to watch, Kevin Durant, manages to get his Thunder past them. I can imagine myself as the typical white end-of-the-bench guy, smacking a towel against the floor and getting up to chest-bump Derrick Rose after he defies the laws of physics and dunks on three guys all a head taller than him. I can get excited about the potential of Chris Paul, Blake Griffin and DeAndre Jordan in the new town of Lob City. In games that actually matter. The lockout was really stupid, and I’m glad it’s over, because I wanna watch me some postseason NBA basketball. March Madness is fine and all, but who needs the minor leagues when the majors are this good?

Nathan: Robert Altman Extravaganza! 

For Christmas I received two books about Robert Altman, a bio and a book of interviews. I’ve already seen all of Altman’s major films and a few that aren’t so major. But 2012 will see me fill in most of the gaps that remain, including Brewster McCloud, Thieves Like Us, California Split, O.C. and Stiggs, A Wedding, Quintet, Dr. T and the Women, and The Company; and then I’ll give myself a chance to see some other titles, like M*A*S*H*, The Long Goodbye, Short Cuts, and Gosford Park, that I haven’t seen in a long time. I will attempt to do this all within the course of one month. Altman August?

Tyler: Eastbound & Down, season three

Eastbound‘s second season threw loyal viewers off, until it didn’t.  KP’s exile in Copales cemented his show’s status as the bawdiest, funniest, ballsiest, most oddly affecting show on TV.  Thanks to ringers Adam Scott and Matthew McConaghey, ol’ Kenny will be getting a shot at the pros once more in the episodes to come.  Plus, he’s got another bundle of joy with which to deal.  Jody Hill, paired with Danny McBride, is one of the most talented young filmmakers on the scene today.  They treat their baby Down like it was a movie.  So far, they’ve given no reason to believe S3 won’t be among the best of the year.

Travis: The PCH/I-5

I live on a beautiful coast and I’ve barely explored it. This year I plan to rectalfy that deelemmer, and take a few days or however long it takes to drive up and see all there is to be seen, from Sandy Eggo on up to Canada. You’re all welcome to come along, but I must warn you, I listen to some pretty horrible music, and I eat lots of beef jerky on road trips, so my breath will be pretty bad.

Nathan: Django Unchained 

Quentin Tarantino isn’t my favorite working director by any stretch. But, few directors get me as excited to go to the movies as he does. We can debate the overall quality of movies like Kill Bill and Inglourious Basterds, but I had a total blast watching them both on a big screen. And Django Unchained is the movie that I’ve been clamoring for ever since the moment I heard Tarantino give a brief description of a new genre he had been working on: The Southern. From IMDB: “With the help of his mentor, a slave-turned-bounty hunter sets out to rescue his wife from a brutal Mississippi plantation owner.” Samuel L. Jackson and Jamie Foxx are in this. I think I just drooled on my keyboard.

Tyler: Your Cincinnati Reds

Gutting their system of prospects for volatile ace Mat Latos and pin-sharp reliever Sean Marshall, the Reds have made it clear that this is their year to move.  2011’s off season belied much of the enthusiasm inspired by their miraculous, glorious 2010 run to the NL Central, but mighty Albert is gone now, hefty Hamburger (aka “Prince Fielder”) soon to follow.  There is a moment.  The moment is now.  GO REDS GO.  Mere words cannot describe how much I want to see them grab it all.

Travis: Breaking Bad, Season Five

Sixteen episodes remain for the best show on television right now. It has yet to be determined if those sixteen will air as one season, or be broken up into two seasons, or two half-seasons (like The Sopranos before it), but there will be a season five of Breaking Bad, and episodes will air in 2012. Season Four did not end on a cliffhanger, at least as much of one as did Season Three (making the year-long wait for new installments of the Mr. Chips Goes Scarface Chronicles nigh unbearable), but that does not mean the new eps are any less anticipated. The story of Walter White and Jesse Pinkman (and, to a lesser extent, Walt’s family), if it concludes at the same high level as the previous seasons, will be lifted above previous best  TV show of all time contenders like the aforementioned Sopranos, The Wire, and others. Yeah Mr. White! Yeah science!

Nathan: Lions + Playoffs 

Lions fans can party like its 1999, because, you know, that was the last time this franchise suited up for a January game. As a fan of all Detroit sports, I’d like to see them win this upcoming playoff game, but the future in the Lions locker room is so bright that I’m thrilled just to see them have even the smallest measure of success now.

RESTORE THE ROAR!

Tyler: Best mannery

I met my brother Mike due to destiny.  Our respective parents purchased houses across a cul-de-sac from each other all the way back in 1989.  We went to the same school for four years, we binged on action movies and soda during sleepovers, we concocted endless variations on baseball and fake-gun-games, we traded the same loony girl (God love her), we founded The Dmitri Young Fan Club, we developed our own ridiculous language that’s like some shit out of Nell (and which leaves his lovelified fiancee Amy, poor girl, befuddled when we three meet for dinner every week or so).  We grew up together, one quiet, one loud, one musician, one writer, and we’ll grow old together, too.

This March (or thereabouts), my boy, myself and a collection of baller-ass friends will head out to the desert for spring training baseball and desert scenery, the kind of thoughtful-romantic bachelor party that would make plenty a dudebro invoke sexuality slurs.  This Memorial Day weekend, my boy and his girl will get hitched, in a refabbed barn here in A2, and I’ll be standing at his side, because homes was gracious enough to honor me with the duty.  It is, already, a few months distant, one of the proudest and happiest moments of my life.  They saved me, these two, when I needed the saving.  I am forever, eternal, in their debt.  I love you guys.

By the by, my goal is to make at least one of his parents cry during the speech.  This would be a monumental achievement.

Travis: Publishing a Novel

Yeah, it’s a long shot, but they aren’t called dreams because they’re realistic, are they?

Nathan: D.C., Bal, NYC

If all goes according to plan, Olivia and I will be taking an East Coast trip in September. First we’ll go to Washington, D.C., to see friends and family; then we’ll head up to Baltimore, to see another friend; and we’ll end up in New York City, with a possible detour through Philadelphia – all places that Olivia has never been to. The prospect of this trip could only be better if we gave ourselves enough time to go to Boston and the Maine coast.

Tyler: New York

I’ve wanted to live in New York City since before the age of reason.  It’s finally time.  It won’t be easy; it will be expensive.  I will be waiting tables, fake work, while I advance my creative career, real work.  I’ll be surrounded by people, Central Park will be always in reach.  I’ll live in Queens, maybe, ’cause that’s where the po’folk (read: hyper-literate white cats) live these days, or maybe even The Bronx, if it makes financial sense.  I’ll need a roommate, though I’d prefer a girlfriend.  (This singledom shit is for the birds.)  I’ll live on the cheap, and I will follow my dreams.  It’s gonna be fabulous.  See you soon, NY.  A2–nor anywhere else, for that matter–got nothin’ on you.  XOXO, T.

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