move over, boocedotblogspotdotcom, here comes boocedotbuzznetdotcom!!!

this is also bruce's bboy pose.

what can i get for my autographed bruce cheung rookie card? looking for a fair trade. will consider reasonable offers.

heehee.

creepy is the new funny.

BOXED WINE is so architectural - a blob incased in a skyscraper, the rectilinear merged with the amorphic, geometric, hectic, dense, electric. if architecture, as rem koolhaas once said, is a "fuzzy almagation (...) an awkward way to look at the world and an inadequate medium to operate on it" then boxed wine is the most honest ideal we have - simultaneously simple and distorienting, a building that is a sculptor, not a sculpture.

plus it fucks you up, all for the price of $8.99.

breakdancing in elevators

a memory map of berkeley... never to be finished, of course.

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shittiest moment of work:

the director, eric, is setting up a shot with his cinematographer, rob. we're in a garden, and joan chen is having breakfast with charisma tashima. eric turns around and whispers, "bruce, come here." i think, wow, this is it, he's going to explain to me how filmmaking is like astrology, how you gotta catch shadows and and craft stars outta mirrors and 1200-volt spotlights, or maybe he's gonna tell me a secret, how in this scene joan chen plays a girl he hasn't met yet, and that she acts by holding her breath and pretending that she's always underwater, or maybe he'll just confess that he doesn't know what he's doing, ever.

i scoot over.

he doesn't look me in the eye and hands me a chewing gam wrapper: "throw this away for me."