| For Thomas and Jarrett |
[Nov. 6th, 2009|11:06 pm] |
Hey guys,
I remember at Jarrett's house after his mother's service that you guys were talking about Robert Jordan's recent death and who would carry on the "Wheel of Time" series. I'm sure you've heard that Brandon Sanderson has taken the reigns and here's a recent interview with the torch-bearer: http://news.shelf-awareness.com/mv/a1/787581.html Hope you enjoy!
Cheers,
-Edwin |
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| Blog, Part Deux |
[Oct. 26th, 2009|01:00 pm] |
Exciting things are happening over at my movie blog:
http://isolatedmoviegoer.blogspot.com/
Swing on over there to find reviews of new and new-ish films, including praises of Inglourious Basterds and Away We Go, and absolute pans of Duplicity and Where The Wild Things Are.
Vote for your favorite film of the year (so far) and, as always, feel free to comment. More reviews are on the way as I'm a Netflixing freak and am working my way through the library's latest order. Enjoy! |
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| There And Back...Again |
[Oct. 7th, 2009|09:08 am] |
Apologies for being away for so long. Over the past month, many things have taken a backseat to finishing the first draft of a novel. With the draft completed and a self-imposed stay of writing while I await feedback from the first round of readers, I'm free to return to the important things in life: sufficient sleep, physical fitness and blogging.
-In hopes of gaining official Press status, I've started a film blog with our friends at Google. The blog features a movie-goer (me, not Walker Percy) struggling with the cinematic limitations of living over an hour (and a state) away from the nearest multiplex. Tragic, I know. As with Spout, I'll continue to cross-post my reviews and posts here.
-Exactly 2 weeks ago, Sarah and I set out for San Francisco. "Didn't you guys just go there?" Yes (3/07). We chose to go back because my sister-in-law's next post in the Foreign Service is Lima, Peru, and since we can't quite take a long weekend to Machu Picchu, we decided to West Coast it with her while we still can.
With the big touristy things out of the way 2.5 years ago (Alcatraz, Fisherman's Wharf, etc.), this trip was more about filling in the gaps. We walked the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito once more, but this time was much different. Instead of following the pedestrian paths to the bridge, we took the automobile paths and wound up walking around 4 miles on a thin, heavily-littered path next to the highway. No one else was on the path, and I kept expecting at least one local to honk their horn and tell us how dumb we were, but I guess the Bay Area is too chill for that. With the path limiting our route to itself (our other choices were sprinting out in traffic or jumping 30 feet into parking lots), we were lucky to not get jumped. Next time, we'll follow the dog-walkers.
That Friday, we went on a tour of wine country with a terrifically nice guide named Doug. Snug in our 12-passenger "bus," Doug took us over the bridge, through Marin County and on to Napa and Sonoma. We hit up 2 wineries, had lunch in downtown Sonoma and then took in a sparkling winery, complete with multiple champagne toasts. Visiting wine country this way is highly recommended. There isn't as much flexibility on where you can go, but you don't have to worry about driving and the accompanying factoids are worth the extra $. But I did miss not seeing Miles from Sideways trying out the area's finest Pinot Noir.
Sunday, Sarah and I went to the Giants/Cubs game at AT&T Park. I'd StubHub'd us great seats (will "StubHub'd" be the next great techno-verb, after Googled and Facebooked?) on the 1st base line, looking right at the pitcher's mound. Matt Cain faced off against Randy Wells, and from the start, the Giants were in control. Between innings, we were teased with prizes for Fan Appreciation Day, though the prospect of a poacher like myself winning something was probably enough to scare off the fates. After repeated failure by the Giants' relievers to record the game's final out (and the other fans' joint failure to realize that standing up to encourage the final out only put a hex on each reliever), the Giants won 5-1. AT&T is a neat park, filled with eye candy. It doesn't stack up to the grandeur of Camden Yards or even the newness and openness of Great American Ballpark, but it's a nice place to see a game.
One of the highlights of the trip were our fellow diners. Oh man, were they entertaining! In Chinatown, we were a few tables away from a very loud (surprise, surprise) New York couple. The woman especially was a shouter, and we heard all about her thoughts on the menu: "$9.95 for egg drop soup? It better be for more than one person. No way am I paying $9.95 for soup!"
While having drinks outside at a French restaurant, a woman came up walking 3 small dogs. We thought that two of them were Pomeranians, but she corrected us, saying that they were some other breed who had roles on ships, or something like that. She also had a long-haired chihuahua who fit into the woman's purse. We exchanged pleasant chit-chat, and then she dove into how all 3 are rescue dogs and seemed perfectly fine relaying the abuse that each dog had been through. They'd experienced terrible things, but from the woman's tone, you would have thought that all they'd endured was a grass barf.
Finally, in our last night after returning to the city's center after the ballgame, we went back to the French restaurant for a nice supper. 2 tables over from us, an old money woman lazily told the waitress that they were in a hurry, but could be late to the opera. "We've been there before," she said. So began the flinging of many high-society opinions, mostly concerning the food. She ask so many questions about the menu that you would have thought she was allergic to everything but water. When her appetizer arrived, it wasn't anything close to what she'd expected, but she was pleasantly surprised. Her husband's beef bourguignon was "too beefy," but she wanted to box it up for the next day's lunch. And last of all was the restaurant's music. "The soundtrack in this place leaves something to be desired," she said. When the waitress came by for the check, the lady expressed her concern, noting that it wasn't what she expected from a French restaurant. The waitress replied that the music was an iPod on shuffle and that each time you come to the restaurant, you'll get a different musical experience. (What a perfect answer! She doesn't apologize for the music and provides an excellent temptation for a future visit. Brilliant!) When the lady's husband returned from the restroom, she smartly told him that the music was from "an iPod Shuffle," and they went on their way.
-We got back to Andrews on a Monday afternoon. I worked Tuesday and then left the next morning for the Popular Culture Association of the South's annual conference, being held in Wilmington, NC. I presented my Mormon Vampire paper in the first session at 9 AM on the conference's first day. The presentation was part of a 4-person panel, all presenting on the Twilight Saga, and each paper played off one another. Not many people were in attendance (maybe 10, including the presenters), but the feedback was good and in the other sessions, the attendance was about the same. With 8 other panels to choose from that morning, I wondered if other topics were more interesting to scholars, folks simply hadn't yet arrived or if the academic community cares much about Stephenie Meyer's books. The answer might be a little of each.
As with any conference, this one had its share of academic blowhards, men and women who'd come to the conference to talk and be heard and to tell other people "how it is." None were more egotistical than a trio of professors from the communications department of Lamar University in Texas. Instead of staying within the 20-25 minute limit for presenting on a 3-person panel, the first two speakers went for 45 minutes each, leaving the third man scrambling to fit in his paper (which was the most interesting of the bunch). In addition, these guys thought that the "free drink" social began 30 minutes after it actually did, pushing us to a 7 PM dismissal instead of the intended 6:15. It was an odd way to end the first day, and made me question my feelings on the conference's worth.
Fortunately, the next day was much different. I purposefully slept through the first session, arriving in time for an interesting 10:45 panel featuring a talk on the use of tambourine in the Beatles' songs and another on the '60s counterculture on film during that era. (The latter got me thinking about a paper I'm tentatively titling "20/20 Hindsight: Pynchon's California novels, then and now.") After lunch at a pub that serves Greek food, I returned to a session on Edgar Allan Poe, including how his man vs. nature theme affects such reality TV shows as "Deadliest Catch" and "Ice Road Truckers."
But it was the last session of my conference stay that was the best. The first paper compared Douglas Coupland's Generation X and Tom Wolfe's I Am Charlotte Simmons, and asked if Gen X and Gen Y were that much different. The second was about the subculture created by The Big Lebowski and how the "children of children of" pop culture creations are themselves being viewed as legitimate creations. The last paper covered how Facebook changes the face of the LGBT community in that we have different roles (son, brother, co-worker, etc.) and how the widespread sharing of information on social networks can unintentionally speed up one's transition into "coming out." All were tremendous for post-paper Q&A, and while the Lebowski talk got me thinking about another paper (William Faulkner's influence on the Coen Bros.), it was the "empty room" chat I had with the first 2 presenters about lesser-known Coen films (i.e. Barton Fink) that got me jazzed. This was the conversation I'd come to the conference to find. I'd chosen to attend this conference instead of the state library meeting for exactly that kind of interaction, which I most certainly wouldn't have found after an NCLA panel (except to remind myself that life is much better than attending a library conference). I exchanged cards with the fellows and look forward to talking film with them in the future.
So, now it's back to Andrews. Sarah is in Greenville at said dull library conference and will return on Friday. Until then, I've got 2 books to finish reading for 2 different book clubs that I'm leading on 1 day. But afterwards, it's on to pure pleasure reading (including new Dan Brown and Nick Hornby) and getting back to our Netflix queue. Oh yeah, and more blogging. |
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| Here and There |
[Aug. 25th, 2009|02:46 pm] |
-The KFC in Andrews closed a few months ago and since then, the red-and-white striped plastic awnings and other roof pieces have been sitting by the restaurant's dumpsters. I've considered reappropriating them and fixing them onto our house, a la Kramer with the Merv Griffin Show furniture in his apartment. I'm already growing facial hair, to be dyed white, and am working on acquiring an antique seersucker suit.
-It's an accomplishment, but it's probably just gross: I've gotten to the point where flossing no longer makes my gums bleed. I've always had wimpy gums that bleed the second the dentist winds up a string of Oral B, but when I go for my next checkup in November, Dr. Davis and his assistants will officially initiate my pinks into the Tough Gums club.
-I purchased my first piece of lawn equipment over the weekend: an electric yard trimmer. The mower our landlord let us use hasn't been the same since last fall and the grass is starting to take over. I almost want to let it. It's not a real yard and isn't very large. No one sees it and because it's so sloped, rocky and covered with trees, we don't use it for anything. The only thing I'm worried about is encountering a snake or another threat while walking Atticus. So, instead of buying a mower, I went with the trimmer.
Home Depot had a good number of options and they all had reviews. I definitely didn't want to mess with gas, so it was down to battery or plug. Battery sounds great. You can go anywhere with it and the charging time usually isn't long. The downside is that many models don't come with batteries, the ones that do had complaints of pooping out after 15-20 minutes, and a Toro model (which had some of the best reviews and a great price) had an internal battery, which means having to chuck it in a few years when the charge gives out. No can do. So, I went with a corded model. The plan is to buy a 100-foot extension cord (I'll check the recommended gauge once the trimmer arrives) to work with the many exterior outlets (telephone jacks and outlets: 2 things our house isn't short on). That way, I'll have something that lasts longer than a battery-operated model and won't have as much waste. The only thing I'm not excited about dealing with is the string, but there's not much to trim and the auto-feed + decrease in noise (vs. gas powered machines) will be a welcome relief. Not to mention a neater yard.
-While we wait for Season 3 of Big Love to be released on DVD, we've been working our way through Sex and the City. I'd seen a few episodes here and there, and thought that the movie had some of the best writing of last year. Now, getting to know the characters from the beginning, it's great fun. Still, with all the sleeping around that goes on, I kept waiting for reality to peek its way in and for one of the girls to get an STD. I wasn't disappointed. Charlotte got crabs from a 25-year-old in the next-to-last episode of Season 2, but I'm still waiting for something more serious to sweep through. |
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| Review: Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon |
[Aug. 25th, 2009|02:36 pm] |
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So I, like, wanted to enjoy Inherent Vice a lot more? and it started off real funny and felt a lot like "The Big Lebowski" throughout, except Doc Sportello is a P.I. on purpose and The Dude accidentally falls into the role? But I dunno, man. These West Coast Pynchon books kind of make me freak out. First there was "The Crying of Lot 49," which I respect for what it was (an acid trip in letters), but there's not much story there and it's the same thing here. At least I don't think there is... Maybe I'm, like, not intellectual enough to get all the groovy things Pynchon's doing with the detective genre? and his commentary and metaphors on the '60s are mostly over my head, 'cause I, like, wasn't alive then? and I don't do enough drugs to really dig what's going on here (though I was at where the Coens were at with The Dude)? Don't call me a narc, though, 'cause I dig his attention to detail and even his made-up pop songs. But there were too many times when things got wacky just for the sake of being wacky when it didn't really have anything to do with anything? But usually when Doc gets to talk, it's entertaining and reminds you why you picked up the book in the first place. Plus all those well-placed question marks really get the stoner voice down? Anyway, I'm gonna try out Pynchon's books that are set somewhere other than California 'cause I believe he's a great writer? and just needs the right story and subject matter for me to dig him the way I think he needs to be dug? Ya know? |
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| R.I.P. |
[Jul. 21st, 2009|04:24 pm] |
I feel like at some point I said that once Walter Cronkite passed away, a piece of myself and of American identity would be lost.
Do you feel it, too? |
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| Hillbilly Goldmine |
[Jul. 21st, 2009|04:22 pm] |
Deliverance.
You hear about the rape scene as early as middle school and figure that the film is one big redneck joke. Then you actually watch it and from the opening voiceover of two vehicles navigating the winding dirt roads of northeast Georgia, you're hooked. When Drew starts strumming his guitar and the pasty inbred child walks out on the porch with his banjo, you get goosebumps. You know what's coming without even seeing it. When they get right into "Dueling Banjos" and the mountain man starts his bizarro clogging on the dirt road, you're convinced that it's one of the best scenes in cinema.
You know the rape is coming. When it does, you're surprised at how menacing it is, yet it isn't anything like you imagined. When Lewis shoots an arrow through the rapist's chest, right when the toothless hillbilly is about to test out Ed's "purty mouth," and the city boys dispose of the body, you know you're in for an old-fashioned, white knuckle thriller.
The film doesn't let you down. Ever-potential danger lurks in the woods that flank the river and now you're just as paranoid as the foursome. As they go deeper into an environment in which they are at the mercy of so many terrifying factors, you can't help but relate to their predicament and wonder how any of them can endure if they escape. The entire experience is Hitchcockian in its relentless suspense and makes you say aloud several times, as if such a response is a natural reflex, "This is one of the finest films ever made."
What a fantastic discovery from something you'd subconsciously written off years ago. |
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| Memo |
[Jul. 8th, 2009|10:33 am] |
My personal assistant has just handed me a new work week schedule. It would involve a move to a town with a racquet club (hello Asheville and Brevard!) but everything else sounds doable.
MWF
7:00-8:00 Wake up, get clean & eat breakfast
8:00-9:00 Read
9:00-12:30 Write
12:30-1:00 Lunch
1:00-1:45 Walk Atticus (while reading)
1:45-2:30 Nap
2:30-3:00 Drive to racquet club
3:00-5:00 Tennis (doubles, preferably)
5:00-5:45 Drive home & get clean
5:45-6:45 Help prepare supper
6:45-7:15 Supper
7:15-9:00 Evening entertainment (Jeopardy!, DVD, games, etc.)
(9:15 Sarah to sleep)
9:00-10:45 Read
10:45-11:00 Prepare for sleep
11:00-7:00 Sleep
TR
7:00-8:00 Wake up, get clean & eat breakfast
8:00-9:00 Read
9:00-12:30 Write
12:30-1:00 Lunch
1:00-1:45 Walk Atticus (while reading)
1:45-2:30 Nap
2:30-3:00 Lift weights & get clean
3:00-5:45 Write
5:45-6:45 Help prepare supper
6:45-7:15 Supper
7:15-9:00 Evening entertainment (Jeopardy!, DVD, games, etc.)
(9:15 Sarah to sleep)
9:00-10:45 Read
10:45-11:00 Prepare for sleep
11:00-7:00 Sleep |
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| I Left My...Wallet? |
[Jul. 8th, 2009|10:22 am] |
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We might be going back to San Francisco in September. If so, there's a good chance I could see the Giants play either the Dodgers or the Rockies, or, if I have my weeks wrong, the A's host the Indians or the Rangers. Either way, chalk up another major league game in a new stadium. |
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| Mountain Movies |
[Jul. 7th, 2009|10:34 am] |
As I said last summer, not many great (or even good) movies make it out to Andrews. We've got our twin cinema and there's the one-screen, newly renovated, post-fire Hen Theatre in Murphy, but besides that...Asheville is only 90 minutes away. There's the Fieldstone Six in Young Harris, GA, but the prospect of driving to Georgia to see a movie hasn't been enough to lure me and Sarah out of our 'holler. Honestly, few things are able to get us out of our cabin once we're nestled in. Apparently the Fieldstone Six is an hour from our house, but even though it's nextdoor, just thinking about going to Georgia feels like too much of a hassle. Plus, it's all windy unlit back roads. It all makes me realize how much of a luxury it was to grow up 45 minutes from Asheville with bright, well maintained 4-lane highways all the way there.
The Andrews Twin Cinema doesn't get all stinkers. Over Father's Day weekend, I saw both The Hangover and Up, the latter of which I knew wouldn't last more than a week, especially with damn Transformers 2 on the way, ready to sell out the theatre that's never been sold out. After seeing the trailer, The Hangover felt like the next comic masterpiece, up there with Old School, the South Park movie and Role Models. The intriguing concept of retracing a night that no one remembers, combined with fun big-but-not-too-big stars and a guest spot from Mike Tyson seemed to indicate the makings for a good time.
Well, it wasn't. Sure, there are plenty of big laughs, but I wouldn't say that it's all that funny. It's all a bunch of temporary SNL laughs instead of the quotable hilarity it pretends to be. Maybe its lack of true humor has to do with it being a Todd Philips film not written by Philips. All of his previous comic gems (Old School, Road Trip, Starsky & Hutch; haven't seen School For Scoundrels) have had more input from him than merely from behind the camera, and it shows. Those films are consistenly funny with hardly any sections that lag. Many times in The Hangover, the audience is left waiting while the story tries to catch up with the jokes. It's a painful experience. Instead of blending them, as in earlier Philips flicks and other quality comedies, it's as if the screenwriters chopped the film into "joke" and "explanation" pieces. Such an approach completely alters the film's flow and keeps it from being what it could be.
Up, however, is everything it wants to be and more. At this point, 14 years after Toy Story debuted, Pixar has become one of the few sure things in film. One doesn't need to see the trailer for the studio's next release. It's 100% "I'm there and it's gonna be good."
Up upholds the tradition. The quality of animation has again been elevated (which always makes you want to know what they're capable of now) and the writing is superb, but as was the case with last year's Wall-E, Up is at its surprising best sans dialogue. Neglecting even Wall-E's simple robotic sound effects, Up goes pure silent movie mode and employs an old-timey Michael Giacchino piano melody to accompany a heartbreaking montage of childhood friends Carl and Ellie growing old together. The timeless emotion of this sequence outdoes even that of the "When She Loved Me" montage from Toy Story 2, a wallop of a scene in its own right, and for good reason: humans > toys.
The strong opening propels the film into one of Pixar's most implausible plots. Carl, now a crotchety octogenarian widower, resistant to all forms of change, decides to cash in on his and his wife's childhood dream to fly their house to Paradise Falls in the South American jungles. Joined by Russell, a stowaway young Wilderness Explorer with no wilderness experience whatsoever, Carl floats his house toward his destination with the help of helium balloons. Within reach of the falls, Carl and Russell must go the rest of the way on foot with the house tethered, via garden hose, to Carl's age-defying back and land the house before too much helium escapes from the balloons.
On the way, the pair encounter a unique chocolate-loving bird that Russell names Kevin, a pack of savage dogs that talk through a device on their necks, and Dug, the pack's golden retriever who doesn't quite fit in with the gang's dobermans and pit bulls. It's through Dug's innocent but faithful banter (exterior narration that should probably stay interior) that the film truly, no pun intended, flies. Pixar films always have a slapstick element to complete the mature-but-accessible-for-all humor, and Up finds its final puzzle piece in Dug, a sweet dog who's looking for a nicer master. With these new tagalongs, Carl and Russell take on a daring adventure, the likes of which have been missing from their respective lives, and form a bond that transcends sentimentality. Instead of the sap that fills most live-action films, these animated humans provide the right balance of emotion and humor, and teach us flesh and blood viewers a genuine lesson in relationships.
Hopefully soon, I'll have seen enough films from 2009 to amass a Top 5 list. Until then, I'll be a Netflixing fiend. |
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| The New Hero |
[Jul. 1st, 2009|09:30 am] |
Yesterday, a World War II veteran came to our class.
He wore a jacket with badges and pieces of metal
all over it and a hat that said "11th Armored Division"
in red, blue and yellow stitches with a red lightning bolt.
He told us about being in battles and shooting guns,
about parachuting out of airplanes and riding in tanks.
Mrs. Turner said he was a real-life hero and that
we should all be thankful for his service to our country.
A few kids got his autograph. I was one of them.
He signed my social studies book. It seemed the most appropriate.
When I went to the grocery store with Mom before supper,
he didn't look like a hero. He looked like any other bag boy,
wearing a white collared shirt, green apron,and a name tag that said "Jack."
As he sorted our meat and cereal into paper and plastic,
he looked up and caught me staring at him. My face was hot
and my hand shook, but I knew what I had to do. I saluted him
and said, "Thunderbolt." He looked around, then back to me and saluted.
Right after he said "Thunderbolt," the kid who used to mow our lawn
came over and told the hero to get back to work. The hero looked sad
as he double-bagged our milk and told us to have a good day.
On our way out, I waved at him but he didn't wave back.
He was busy putting meat and cereal into paper and plastic for someone else,
someone who had no idea who he really was. |
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| The Hunt is On |
[Jun. 18th, 2009|07:37 pm] |
I am a mullet hunter.
You know, "business in the front,
party in the back." The hair style
that made Billy Ray Cyrus famous
before he was Hannah Montana's dad
and put Joe Dirt on the map?
I hunt them.
Among my favorite species are the Mexicullet,
greasy and curly from the wavy top to
the Darth Vader shield in the back;
the skullet, where a bald man lets his
Spanish Moss run wild down his neck;
and the femullet, when a woman makes a bold
move in the name of Women's Lib. and chooses
to adopt the unfortunate coif for herself.
When I spot one, out at a restaurant or
at the fairgrounds, I make it look like
my friends and I are posing for a picture,
but I arrange us so that the mullet is
perfectly framed between their heads. We
even refer to it in the presence of the
host head, but pronounce it "moo-lay" so
that even the educated mullet doesn't get it.
The mullet suspects nothing, though with
a haircut like that, it must not suspect
much at all. For where did it come to the
conclusion that such a style was a good idea?
Doesn't it watch TV or read magazines or
have friends who care about it?
But if it had any of those, there would be
no mullets to hunt. The skullet would die
out, the femullet become extinct and scientists
would only have fossils of Mexicullets to
even know that they existed. No, I wish none
of these fates on the mullet. They deserve
to live, just as I deserve to devote my
life to hunting them. |
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| An Evening with Jenny Lewis |
[Jun. 16th, 2009|10:46 am] |
By now, I should know not to underestimate Chapel Hill hipsters.
There have been plenty of shows and events that I've attended where I expected few people to be, and the place will be packed. Maybe it was growing up in Brevard or going to Greensboro College, both of which foster isolationism for the young esoteric man, that make me expect people to be uninformed.
Chapel Hill is anything but uninformed.
This fact was proved most recently at the Jenny Lewis show at Cat's Cradle last Friday night. While her name and that of her band, Rilo Kiley, draw shrugs in most circles, in Chapel Hill it produced a nearly sold out show and a crowd that knew the words to nearly all of her songs.
Taking the stage in L.A. hot pants with her relaxed backing band, Lewis picked through the highlights of her two solo albums and Rilo Kiley's four. After mixing tempos (everything from rollicking opener "See Fernando" to sweet lullaby "Sing A Song For Them") with the band, Lewis switched to her acoustic guitar for a solid tangent featuring the angelic "Trying My Best to Love You" and a back-to-basics version of Rilo Kiley's "Silver Lining."
With time winding down until the Gransee-Arnaudin carriage turned back into a pumpkin, I hoped that Lewis would play my favorite song of hers before we left. On cue, she burst into "Rise Up With Fists," a sure sign that we were meant to depart at midnight. And just like a Ricky Gervais comedy series, we tapped out while we were still having fun and before concert fatigue set in. |
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| New Pair of Shoes |
[Jun. 16th, 2009|10:06 am] |
I have a new pair of shoes, which typically means
that they're a magnet for bubble gum and mud.
Somehow, even if I wrap the shoes in
plastic bags and secure the tops with rubber bands,
they'll look worn out by the end of the first day.
Each time I buy a new pair, I tell myself,
"These will be the shoes that last. These will
stay shiny, soft and retain that new shoe smell.
I'll walk heel-toe with every step, scrub them
every night, never use them for anything but
walking and sitting around and I'll always
wear socks with them."
All of that sounds so good when I'm thinking
about it. I know that when I lace up and move
around that I will make those changes. I will
treat them like kittens. I will keep them in
mint condition. These will be the shoes that last.
And yet every time, I wear them out in the rain,
forget to look where I walk, and slide
in and out of them without untying the laces.
I have a new pair of shoes.
I think I'll leave them in the box today. |
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| Thrill Seeker |
[Jun. 15th, 2009|09:36 pm] |
No, I won't go skydiving with you.
Call off the roller coasters, base jumping
and bullfighting. And don't give me
that alligator wrestling and snake
kissing gibberish. That's for sissies.
Give me a license and an old Saab
without airbags, and let me loose
on the interstate. Put me beside
other experts, sleep-deprived, late
and unhappy with work, and let us
see who can do it the best.
No parachutes, no blindfolds, no tricks.
Just seatbelts, a case of CDs, a cup of coffee,
and my heart will absolutely pulverize my breastplate. |
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| Testimony from Sarah's Trial |
[Jun. 8th, 2009|02:32 pm] |
From the Opening Statement
Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, today I bring charges against former boyfriends of S. Gransee Arnaudin (henceforth to be known as "victim") that did ruin multiple films that, in more respectable situations, should have been enjoyable experiences.
The list includes, but is not limited to:
-Exhibit A: The Big Lebowski
-Exhibit B: Fargo
-Exhibit C: This is Spinal Tap
From the victim's reports, I will show that these "boyfriends" did, without her consent, make victim watch these films repeatedly as they desired. Neither victim's complaints nor glassy-eyed boredom deterred their missions of cinematic doom, forever tainting victim's perception of said films.
From the Evidence
Exhibits A & B: victim enjoys prior evidence of witnesses J. and E. Coen, Raising Arizona (exhibit D). Witnesses' trademark dark humor likewise evident in exhibits A & C, also improved writing as seen by 1996 Best Original Screenplay Academy Award (exhibit E) and The Dude's cult following (exhibit F). In tradition with victim's appreciation for independent filmmaking, all would have been appreciated under other circumstances.
Exhibit C: victim's DVD collection (exhibit G) conveys strong appreciation for witness C. Guest and prior evidence Waiting For Guffman, Best In Show and A Mighty Wind. Witness' quirky humor likewise evident in exhibit C, some argue moreso, yet victim not allowed to discover under own terms. Tragedy indeed.
When questioned how victim acquired ability to veto certain film offers of her final boyfriend and now husband, victim stated that he "made [her] more confident in [her]self." Now, film watching a shared experience. Husband views weird films on own time; does not subject victim to such torture. Both happy, though distaste for perpetrators lingers.
From the Closing Statement
People of the court, I reiterate: what kind of sickos did victim date before this fellow? |
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| Dream Come True |
[Jun. 3rd, 2009|04:27 pm] |
Beastie Boys are coming to Asheville next Wednesday!!!
How the Orange Peel manages to consistently bring such high quality acts to a 942-person venue is a mystery to me, but I'm glad they do it. First Bob Dylan, then the Smashing Pumpkins, then Ben Folds, and now Beastie Boys. It's probably the smallest place any of them have played since their salad days!
I'm going to try and get tickets tomorrow, but since I was one of many to crash the ticket server trying to see the Pumpkins 3 years ago, I'm prepared to be disappointed. At least there's Jenny Lewis at Cat's Cradle that Friday to fall back on. |
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| Memorable Albums of 2008 |
[May. 19th, 2009|12:09 pm] |
Jenny Lewis Acid Tongue (a mixtape unto itself. Even constipated ol' Elvis Costello can't derail this wide variety of solid tracks, all of which play out as one wonderful song. The year's unanimous best)
Nas Untitled (fantastic meditation on the "n" word that feels like a trip through history. Not as sonically cohesive or diverse as the masterful Hip Hop Is Dead, but another impressive outing nonetheless)
Bob Dylan The Bootleg Series Vol. 8: Tell Tale Signs (the music industry’s closest thing to a slam dunk the past 10 years have been the Bootleg series. Though mostly composed of alternate versions of known songs and soundtrack contributions --many of which I considered purchasing for his tracks alone-- it's a legitimate original album that summarizes Dylan's exceptional recent work)
She & Him Volume One (Zooey Deschanel proved she could sing in Elf, but who knew she could carry an entire album? Teamed with M. Ward, Deschanel crafts old-fashioned pop that often sounds as if it was recorded in a tin can, but the stripped-down approach works. In addition to covers and original tracks is "Sweet Darlin'," co-writted by Deschanel and Jason Schwartzman, a gem of California lovin' straight from the Mamas & the Papas's closet. Volume Two couldn't arrive sooner)
Ben Folds Way to Normal (a compelling experimental album of growth. Folds plays with sounds and production outside of his usual realm, but brings it back home enough to keep things level. Feels like a nice step between remarkable albums)
Q-Tip The Renaissance (the album U.M.C. wants to be. After a considerably hiatus, Kamaal the Abstract returns and does a damn fine job of reminding listeners how it is and how it could be. More listenable than Nas's album, but definitely not as deep)
Randy Newman Harps & Angels (the old codger still knows his satire. The perfect companion to the campaign season)
N.E.R.D. Seeing Sounds (good to see that Pharrell didn't give up on music after his solo disc flopped. The "Neptunes's band" isn't as fun as they used to be, but they're still better than most)
Gnarls Barkley The Odd Couple (just as fun as their first album, if not better. Steadily brings the wacko funk that only Danger Mouse and Cee-Lo can deliver)
Beck Modern Guilt (with Jack White's help, music's most beloved weirdo turns in his most normal rock album yet. The absence of abundant synths and general electronica make way for consistently even jams that form another winning chapter in Beck's storied career)
Kanye West 808's and Heartbreaks (the year's most surprising release. Expert arranging of his layers of sound make it his best work as a producer. The album is what people thought Graduation would be after hearing “Stronger,” but hopefully it's a one-time venture into...whatever it is he's doing)
Aimee Mann @#%&! Smilers (the lady can do no wrong. Accuse her all you will of making songs that all sound the same, but they're all good)
The Roots Rising Down (a perfectly passable Roots album, but after Game Theory, it's kind of a yawn)
Candle can't find the title... (terrific bluegrass that's smooth throughout. As with Ladyhawk, a fun surprise from an assigned DTH review)
Ludacris Theater of the Mind (while not the explosive concept album Luda wanted it to be, it's still some of his best work. The guest list is among one of the best, including Nas and Jay-Z on the same track, but it's 9th Wonder, Common, and Spike Lee who hijack the show with the top-notch "Do The Right Thing." Overall, it's a fun mess)
Ladyhawk Shots (the best pure rock album I've heard since last year's Foo Fighters disc. No frills. Just the real stuff)
Common Universal Mind Control (U.M.C.) (probably his most uneven record, but he manages to salvage what he's got with an ending reminiscent of his best work)
Flight of the Conchords (yes, you've already heard everything here on the show, but as with all great musicals, the tunes are endlessly listenable. Certifies that Brett and Jermaine are indeed funnier than Tenacious D)
Brett Harris Yesterday's News and Side Two (my man from Durham delivers on a pair of EPs full of catchy hooks and storytelling. One of the best unknown musicians working today) |
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| Best Films of 2008: 1-10 |
[May. 13th, 2009|09:38 am] |
10. In Bruges
-Top notch writing and wham-bam comic acting. It's no surprise that writer/director Martin McDonough is a prize-winning playwright. His characters, situations, and dialogue are so well drawn that they ignite the screen, with a little help from Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleeson, and Ralph Fiennes.
9. Role Models
-The year's funniest film. While other '08 comedies struggle to keep the story strong throughout (i.e. Zohan and Tropic Thunder), Paul Rudd & Co. turn on the afterburners. Christopher Mintz-Plasse proves that he's more than a one-hit McLovin' wonder and the team of Seann William Scott and Bobb'e J. Thompson make for the best profanity-laced humor since, well, Superbad. In Mintz-Plasse we trust, indeed.
8. Trouble the Water
-The big winner at Full Frame '08 features Kim Roberts, one of the most interesting characters in recent cinema and a Hurricane Katrina survivor. Armed with a recently purchased video camera, Kim chronicles here Katrina experience before and after the storm, then meets up with a pair of Fahrenheit 9/11 producers at a shelter. As the filmmakers follow Kim and her husband Scott while they return to New Orleans and try to survive elsewhere, the family's strengths and struggles are revealed with gripping honesty. Kim's troubles are triumphs are our blessings, and I don't think we've seen the last of her.
7. The Wrestler
-Mickey Rourke's performance is the film's component that has earned all of its buzz, and it is a spectacular turn, full of passion, guilt, loathing, dedication, and pity. But the world surrounding Randy "The Ram" Robinson is just as fascinating. The arena glory days of '80s pro wrestlers are long gone, replaced with high school gyms and tiny civic centers, but the athletes' commitment to their sport survives. Witnessing over-the-hill legends, forced to work low-wage jobs to payroll their calling, attempt to continue in the wrestling world is a painful experience, but one of the year's most emotionally rich.
6. Milk
-Sean Penn's best performance in addition to superb turns by James Franco and Josh Brolin make for an inspirational gem. Director Gus Van Sant take a decidedly hands-off approach and as a result allows for the oversize charisma of Harvey Milk, as filtered through Dustin Lance Black's superb script, to shine. San Francisco has rarely looked so appealing on film and neither has supporting equal rights. It's a victory on all fronts and a film that should enjoy a long life of relevancy.
5. Wall-E
-Pure joy. The opening Chalpin-esque comedy is some of Pixar's finest and the modern fairy tale of what could befall the human race continues to climb from there. The heart shown by the last robot on Earth ranks among the year's most heartfelt scenes and proves to be more true than the majority of live-action efforts. With each film, Pixar makes incredible advances in animation, and with a new picture produced each year, it continues to be a pleasure to see what they create.
4. The Order of Myths
-The year's best documentary and one of the best overall. Margaret Brown's in-depth look at Mobile, Alabama's racially divided Mardi Gras celebrations is full of awkward moments and grace, though her camera is far from judgmental. Unraveling the topic at hand is left entirely to the viewer, a rare move in the age of Michael Moore.
3. Dark Knight
-Heath Ledger. Heath Ledger. Heath Ledger. He helped make an already phenomenal saga resurgence even better. As the Joker, specializing in mayhem for the most frustrating reason of all (no reason), Ledger allows the film to live up to its title, slipping out of a deserved R rating only for the sake of distribution. And it is a film that should be seen by all who can stomach the terror. Christopher Nolan preserves his spotless track record and the rest of the talented cast, led by Christian Bale and a rousingly subtle Gary Oldman, deliver the most memorable comic book film yet.
2. The Reader
-Devastatingly good. Kate Winslet is solid throughout as a Nazi prison guard attempting to escape her past and has a romantic relationship with a teenage boy, played with innocent/idealistic mastery by David Kross. As the years pass and the pair's relationship changes, their cinematic magnetism only increases. Ralph Fiennes, as the boy all grown up, provides one of the most harrowing scenes in which he records audiobooks for his former flame. This film will leave you aching.
1. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
-As I saw more films (The Reader) and remembered ones that I saw months ago (Milk, Trouble The Water, The Order of Myths) that made me doubt my allegiance to Button, I thought back to how I was moved by the first time I saw the film. I had hyped myself up over David Fincher's opus, wanting to like it more than any film in 2008, and yet it managed to surprise me in ways I couldn't imagine. That isolated experience may not be as fresh as recent viewings of other quality films or the ensuing media hype over others, but it remains in my mind as the best cinematic experience of the year. |
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