What's the word on the street about Teeth?
It's playing in English at the local movie theater and I'm trying to figure out if it's worth going to or if it will be a one trick pony.
Thanks.
It's playing in English at the local movie theater and I'm trying to figure out if it's worth going to or if it will be a one trick pony.
Thanks.
- 16:51 i got my american idol tickets! section one, center stage, row R... woohoo! #
- 19:39 flo's having a party tonight. i finally get to see my friends! #
"So tie this noose around my neck and let me go." - As Justice Falls lyrics, I don't know who wrote these absurd things, James or Alex or Joe or something. James hated it when you mentioned AJF. He hated the reminder he had been in a retarded screamo band.
In less than a week it'll be a year since James killed himself. I finally picked up the courage tonight to visit the cemetery; it has been months, and I am sorry for that. I wore my Converse, for the first time in ages. He still doesn't have a headstone. As to why that is, I couldn't tell you. But it screeches a little bit at me. There were a few new things there, like pictures in plastic bags to keep out the rain. But what got me was the few notebook pages that Peter had written, just like a letter written casually, telling James what was going on in the world. So I finally broke down. It's been so long. And I just stood there in my Converse, in the cold, on the damp ground, staring through rivulets of tears at the makeshift headstone Wyatt made out of plywood and Sharpie'd letters and wondering why. Why this, why that, why everything. A little part of me has a sneaking suspicion James was right, right about everything. And I still fail to understand anything. An eternity of philosophically nitpicking life has gotten me absolutely nowhere. I still don't know what anything means. I haven't solved any of life's "riddles," and instead I am simply more convinced there are no "riddles" - there is nothing else. This is how it is. And that's really all that is to be said. So we continue to waste our lives away, because that's all that one can do with life. It doesn't really make a difference in the end, anyhow. There won't be an end. There was never a beginning. If anything, I would simply reassure James that things will continue and we will never fill his place with anything, and forever feel the absence of our gay little boy who loved musicals, Disney, theatre, Elton John, and metalz. I would promise him that I would take care of Tyler.
I haven't a clue of what's going on anymore. I'm just going to rub my tired eyes and stop wondering for awhile, and dream of whatever my mind conjures for me until awakening...
We all carry a bit of him with us. Fuck whatever his crazy religious mother said to me, that IS enough - to keep him in us, fuck all of that "I need to know he still exists, in a better place" shit. We've got memories, emotions, and what he left us with. And to have known him and spent that time with him is a priceless thing. That's all anyone could ask for.
"Once a young boy, he set out
Upon the road to fame and fortune;
Full of hope for all looks bright in daylight -
But the young boy, he must learn
That the road is twisted and turned
And dangerous to travel after midnight..." - Wuthering Heights, "Land of Olden Glory"
In less than a week it'll be a year since James killed himself. I finally picked up the courage tonight to visit the cemetery; it has been months, and I am sorry for that. I wore my Converse, for the first time in ages. He still doesn't have a headstone. As to why that is, I couldn't tell you. But it screeches a little bit at me. There were a few new things there, like pictures in plastic bags to keep out the rain. But what got me was the few notebook pages that Peter had written, just like a letter written casually, telling James what was going on in the world. So I finally broke down. It's been so long. And I just stood there in my Converse, in the cold, on the damp ground, staring through rivulets of tears at the makeshift headstone Wyatt made out of plywood and Sharpie'd letters and wondering why. Why this, why that, why everything. A little part of me has a sneaking suspicion James was right, right about everything. And I still fail to understand anything. An eternity of philosophically nitpicking life has gotten me absolutely nowhere. I still don't know what anything means. I haven't solved any of life's "riddles," and instead I am simply more convinced there are no "riddles" - there is nothing else. This is how it is. And that's really all that is to be said. So we continue to waste our lives away, because that's all that one can do with life. It doesn't really make a difference in the end, anyhow. There won't be an end. There was never a beginning. If anything, I would simply reassure James that things will continue and we will never fill his place with anything, and forever feel the absence of our gay little boy who loved musicals, Disney, theatre, Elton John, and metalz. I would promise him that I would take care of Tyler.
I haven't a clue of what's going on anymore. I'm just going to rub my tired eyes and stop wondering for awhile, and dream of whatever my mind conjures for me until awakening...
We all carry a bit of him with us. Fuck whatever his crazy religious mother said to me, that IS enough - to keep him in us, fuck all of that "I need to know he still exists, in a better place" shit. We've got memories, emotions, and what he left us with. And to have known him and spent that time with him is a priceless thing. That's all anyone could ask for.
"Once a young boy, he set out
Upon the road to fame and fortune;
Full of hope for all looks bright in daylight -
But the young boy, he must learn
That the road is twisted and turned
And dangerous to travel after midnight..." - Wuthering Heights, "Land of Olden Glory"
- it goes to 11:Wuthering Heights - Land of Olden Glory
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
I've said it before: the really interesting politics are never about good versus evil. That's easy. Nearly everybody's for good, and against evil, so it tends to be really easy to unite people. No, when politics gets really interesting is when it's about good versus good: when we have to choose between two incompatible good things, or when we can't currently afford both good things on a list and have to choose one for now. Well, where politics gets not merely interesting, but grimly interesting, not merely grimly interesting, but really tough is when it's about evil versus evil: when no matter what choice we make, something truly awful is going to happen, and it's going to be our fault either way, and what remains is to decide which of the two evils is the lesser.
I've been thinking a lot about the Myanmar cyclone damage, wondering which of two truly monstrous evils the world community was going to settle on. Because the wind had barely stopped blowing before we knew two things. We knew that the military government of Myanmar just plain doesn't have the airlift capability to get enough food, water, and medicine to the people in the hardest-hit coastal areas, even if they had it; that to save literally tens of thousands of innocent lives, they were going to need help. And we also knew, again before the wind even stopped blowing, that the ruling junta had flatly ruled out accepting any such help. By day two, we saw clearly why. No ambiguity, no conspiracy theory, no doubt; it ran on Myanmar's own official government TV stations. The junta is confiscating all aid that enters the country, relabeling it in the name of the ruling generals and their close friends, and only delivering it to their political supporters -- even to political supporters that weren't affected by the cyclone. Which leaves the world's humanitarian aid community, both governments and non-governmental organizations, to do some very, very ugly math.
If we do absolutely nothing, then at least 40,000 people will die of hunger, thirst, and infectious disease. And it will be partly our fault, for having decided it was better to let them all die than to help the junta punish its internal opposition, real or suspected.
If we deliver the aid to the ruling junta, probably at least half of those 20,000 people will still die of hunger, thirst, and infectious disease ... and it will be partly our fault, because we will have helped out those who chose the slain, and because we will have directly funded the junta with the half of the aid that they confiscate and keep for themselves and their supporters.
And there really isn't a third option. It's a mark of how desperate everybody is not to make this choice that some diplomats and reporters have actually floated a trial balloon: what if we send the Marine Corps in to seize and hold a beachhead, then send in the Seabees to build a temporary port and landing strip for the aid workers? Or to evacuate the dying? But it's a fantasy solution; aside from the fact that the US military is kind of busy right now, fighting two land wars in Asia already, it'd be flatly illegal. Nor is it a given that the people who need the aid wouldn't join the junta in rising up against us; it's not as if we have any credibility left on the subject of invading countries for their own good. Nor are the American people going to put up with even a half-serious suggestion that we risk American soldiers' lives for tiny little Myanmar.
So all we can do, all we could do, was threaten to withhold the aid while trying to persuade Myanmar's few remaining allies, notably China, to try to talk them into accepting international assistance, or more to the point, into letting people receive aid without the generals getting personal credit and without first checking their names against a list of possible pro-democracy subversives. Since the junta knows full well that the US government, like nearly every government in the world except for China's, would really like to aid pro-democracy subversives in Myanmar, there was never any serious chance they were going to give in. They can let 40,000 or 50,000 people die without losing a night of sleep, and would rather do so than let opponents of the regime, foreign or domestic, claim any credit for doing anything good in Myanmar. So they just kept us reminded, day after day, how many people were dying, how many more people were going to die, leaving it to us to decide which of two monstrous evils we were going to pick.
Over the weekend, one by one, all of the world's governments and NGOs started shipping food directly to the junta.
It makes my teeth itch, sure, to prop up a military dictatorship. But to be fair, they're no worse a dictatorship than probably 40 or 50 other countries' rulers, nor are they the only military junta we're supporting, at least a couple of which are way worse than Myanmar. (Half of "Stan-istan" comes to mind.) And either way, we were basically screwed, let alone the tens of thousands who are going to die no matter which choice we made. So however I feel about it, I'm hesitant to second-guess anybody's decision, in either direction; I'm far from sure how I'd decide, if the mess landed in my lap as anything other than a theoretical problem. But as a theoretical problem, it is an interesting one, isn't it? Grimly interesting. And a genuinely tough call.
I've been thinking a lot about the Myanmar cyclone damage, wondering which of two truly monstrous evils the world community was going to settle on. Because the wind had barely stopped blowing before we knew two things. We knew that the military government of Myanmar just plain doesn't have the airlift capability to get enough food, water, and medicine to the people in the hardest-hit coastal areas, even if they had it; that to save literally tens of thousands of innocent lives, they were going to need help. And we also knew, again before the wind even stopped blowing, that the ruling junta had flatly ruled out accepting any such help. By day two, we saw clearly why. No ambiguity, no conspiracy theory, no doubt; it ran on Myanmar's own official government TV stations. The junta is confiscating all aid that enters the country, relabeling it in the name of the ruling generals and their close friends, and only delivering it to their political supporters -- even to political supporters that weren't affected by the cyclone. Which leaves the world's humanitarian aid community, both governments and non-governmental organizations, to do some very, very ugly math.
If we do absolutely nothing, then at least 40,000 people will die of hunger, thirst, and infectious disease. And it will be partly our fault, for having decided it was better to let them all die than to help the junta punish its internal opposition, real or suspected.
If we deliver the aid to the ruling junta, probably at least half of those 20,000 people will still die of hunger, thirst, and infectious disease ... and it will be partly our fault, because we will have helped out those who chose the slain, and because we will have directly funded the junta with the half of the aid that they confiscate and keep for themselves and their supporters.
And there really isn't a third option. It's a mark of how desperate everybody is not to make this choice that some diplomats and reporters have actually floated a trial balloon: what if we send the Marine Corps in to seize and hold a beachhead, then send in the Seabees to build a temporary port and landing strip for the aid workers? Or to evacuate the dying? But it's a fantasy solution; aside from the fact that the US military is kind of busy right now, fighting two land wars in Asia already, it'd be flatly illegal. Nor is it a given that the people who need the aid wouldn't join the junta in rising up against us; it's not as if we have any credibility left on the subject of invading countries for their own good. Nor are the American people going to put up with even a half-serious suggestion that we risk American soldiers' lives for tiny little Myanmar.
So all we can do, all we could do, was threaten to withhold the aid while trying to persuade Myanmar's few remaining allies, notably China, to try to talk them into accepting international assistance, or more to the point, into letting people receive aid without the generals getting personal credit and without first checking their names against a list of possible pro-democracy subversives. Since the junta knows full well that the US government, like nearly every government in the world except for China's, would really like to aid pro-democracy subversives in Myanmar, there was never any serious chance they were going to give in. They can let 40,000 or 50,000 people die without losing a night of sleep, and would rather do so than let opponents of the regime, foreign or domestic, claim any credit for doing anything good in Myanmar. So they just kept us reminded, day after day, how many people were dying, how many more people were going to die, leaving it to us to decide which of two monstrous evils we were going to pick.
Over the weekend, one by one, all of the world's governments and NGOs started shipping food directly to the junta.
It makes my teeth itch, sure, to prop up a military dictatorship. But to be fair, they're no worse a dictatorship than probably 40 or 50 other countries' rulers, nor are they the only military junta we're supporting, at least a couple of which are way worse than Myanmar. (Half of "Stan-istan" comes to mind.) And either way, we were basically screwed, let alone the tens of thousands who are going to die no matter which choice we made. So however I feel about it, I'm hesitant to second-guess anybody's decision, in either direction; I'm far from sure how I'd decide, if the mess landed in my lap as anything other than a theoretical problem. But as a theoretical problem, it is an interesting one, isn't it? Grimly interesting. And a genuinely tough call.
- status indicator:
bored - it goes to 11:Steel Drums Of The Caribbean - Conga Thing
Most boring opera EVAH.
We left early. If we're gonna sleep, might as well do it at home while listening to Beethoven. In comfy shoes.
We left early. If we're gonna sleep, might as well do it at home while listening to Beethoven. In comfy shoes.
I must say that I'm loving it here. Today was sunny the sky was clear and it got to be 80 degrees outside. We went to the local farmers market, got some amazing mexican food, walked quite a bit got me a drafting table and did other some other stuff... Hopefully we will grill some burgers in a bit to help cap off a wonderful day.
I called my parents and made the bad mistake of putting my girlfriend on the phone with my mom. God, my mother was asking her how I was doing, if I had a job etc. etc. Really it wasn't fair. How about trying o get to know my girlfriend better ?
Speaking of which my girlfriend's mom seems to really like me as well as her sisters.
In general the people that I've come across have been pretty cool. On thursday I went downtown on the bus and explored town by myself. I spent almost an hour talking to a local gallery owner, it was pretty cool. Of course having said that I do tend to speak to gallery owners wherever I go. Overall I like my new town, yes its a lot smaller than I'm used to but its pretty darn cool I must say. Now time to get a job : )
I must post some of the pictures that I've taken asap. Anyway that is about it for now.
Later
I called my parents and made the bad mistake of putting my girlfriend on the phone with my mom. God, my mother was asking her how I was doing, if I had a job etc. etc. Really it wasn't fair. How about trying o get to know my girlfriend better ?
Speaking of which my girlfriend's mom seems to really like me as well as her sisters.
In general the people that I've come across have been pretty cool. On thursday I went downtown on the bus and explored town by myself. I spent almost an hour talking to a local gallery owner, it was pretty cool. Of course having said that I do tend to speak to gallery owners wherever I go. Overall I like my new town, yes its a lot smaller than I'm used to but its pretty darn cool I must say. Now time to get a job : )
I must post some of the pictures that I've taken asap. Anyway that is about it for now.
Later
Happy Birthday ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
hylerj Hope you have a good one buddy : )
hylerj Hope you have a good one buddy : )- status indicator:
awake
When I volunteered to work on Vic's team for the 48 Hour Film Festival last year I didn't expect this. I never would have thought that I was going to end up meeting someone that I am falling so hard for. It just keeps getting better and more amazing and . . . he just makes me so happy it's terrifying.
I am so grateful that this has happened and I am so grateful for everything that has brought me to this.
Last night was amazing and I can't wait to see him again on Tuesday.
I am so grateful that this has happened and I am so grateful for everything that has brought me to this.
Last night was amazing and I can't wait to see him again on Tuesday.
- time zone occupied:House of Cats
- status indicator:bliss
After a Gentoo system upgrade inexplicably made Firefox rendering substantially slower, I decided I'd had enough of it at last, and decided to reinstall with some other distribution. I wondered which one to pick.
Ubuntu has had plenty of raves, and it's based on Debian, so I thought "okay, let's go for this".
The installer has 7 "steps" in which various things are asked. Along the way I noted I wasn't asked for a root password. This should have been a warning sign. But along I went. The system rebooted, I found myself at some display manager's login prompt, and in I went. I saw GNOME and I saw that my laptop's wireless had been autodetected and was already usable. My funny 1920x1200 screen was also running at full resolution.
My next thought: "Woo, that's nifty. Okay, now how can I get rid of GNOME and stick my beloved fvwm setup back on?"
Looking around I note there's a lot of background processes running, many of which I don't recognize, and about 2.5 GB of disk space is in use. It occurred to me that since this was GNOME, the wireless stuff was probably being managed by NetworkManager, which I prefer not to use due to its insane dependency chain.
Suddenly I'm reminded of the same sort of situation you get when you buy a brand new computer from Dell or use one of their "reinstallation" discs to reimage it. Windows with drivers and lots of extra crap that they stick on that you don't care about or want. And you're never really sure you've cleaned it all up.
Maybe it's harsh, but that's my first impression of Ubuntu.
Ubuntu has had plenty of raves, and it's based on Debian, so I thought "okay, let's go for this".
The installer has 7 "steps" in which various things are asked. Along the way I noted I wasn't asked for a root password. This should have been a warning sign. But along I went. The system rebooted, I found myself at some display manager's login prompt, and in I went. I saw GNOME and I saw that my laptop's wireless had been autodetected and was already usable. My funny 1920x1200 screen was also running at full resolution.
My next thought: "Woo, that's nifty. Okay, now how can I get rid of GNOME and stick my beloved fvwm setup back on?"
Looking around I note there's a lot of background processes running, many of which I don't recognize, and about 2.5 GB of disk space is in use. It occurred to me that since this was GNOME, the wireless stuff was probably being managed by NetworkManager, which I prefer not to use due to its insane dependency chain.
Suddenly I'm reminded of the same sort of situation you get when you buy a brand new computer from Dell or use one of their "reinstallation" discs to reimage it. Windows with drivers and lots of extra crap that they stick on that you don't care about or want. And you're never really sure you've cleaned it all up.
Maybe it's harsh, but that's my first impression of Ubuntu.
Say goodbye to your Saturday.
The NVIDIA driver download page is currently "down for maintenance". WTF? Seriously. I may work for them, but damned I'll be if I can't say that's retarded. At least they could've put up a collection of static links or something.
Oh, and I figured out the Solaris NFS stupidity. My key breakthrough was recognizing that packets seemed to flow more often when I was typing on the ssh connection to the server, and when I tried a different Ethernet card, things worked fine. I wonder if the fact the device was recognized as rge0 when it's not a Gb part had anything to do with it. Hmm. Now the last part is how to make sure everything is world-full-control from the start, and it turns out that that is something ZFS won't presently do, but so many people have asked for it, they're fast-tracking support for it. I wonder how long I'll have to wait.
Oh, and I figured out the Solaris NFS stupidity. My key breakthrough was recognizing that packets seemed to flow more often when I was typing on the ssh connection to the server, and when I tried a different Ethernet card, things worked fine. I wonder if the fact the device was recognized as rge0 when it's not a Gb part had anything to do with it. Hmm. Now the last part is how to make sure everything is world-full-control from the start, and it turns out that that is something ZFS won't presently do, but so many people have asked for it, they're fast-tracking support for it. I wonder how long I'll have to wait.
On Wednesday the new Indiana Jones movie will be playing in English at the local expat movie theater.
Duh, I'm a nerd so I'll go on Day One, but there are competing thoughts in my mind:
1. It's been more than a decade since Spielberg has made a decent, fun movie to watch.
2. George Lucas' track record of making sequels to wonderful films from my youth is summed up by saying "Jar Jar Binks."
3. On the other hand, Harrison Ford seems incapable of being in a bad movie. He picks scripts well.
All in all, it could go either way.
Duh, I'm a nerd so I'll go on Day One, but there are competing thoughts in my mind:
1. It's been more than a decade since Spielberg has made a decent, fun movie to watch.
2. George Lucas' track record of making sequels to wonderful films from my youth is summed up by saying "Jar Jar Binks."
3. On the other hand, Harrison Ford seems incapable of being in a bad movie. He picks scripts well.
All in all, it could go either way.
You could be my silver springs
Blue green colors flashin'
I would be your only dream
Your shining autumn, ocean crashing
And did you say she was pretty
And did you say that she loves you
Baby, I don't wanna know
I'll begin not to love you
Turn around, see me runnin'
I'll say I loved you years ago
Tell myself you never loved me, no
And did you say she was pretty
And did you say that she loves you
Baby, I don't wanna know
Oh, no
And can you tell me was it worth it
Really, I don't wanna know
Time casts a spell on you, but you wont forget me
I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me
Time casts a spell on you, but you wont forget me
I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me
I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you
(Was I such a fool?)
You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you
Never get away
Never get away
Never get away
Three decades after the fact, Stevie Nicks' fierce, impassioned anger at being hurt by Lindsey Buckingham still radiates out from her being and swirls about her like a mist. This now 60 year old, still-beautiful, raging harridan stares him down -- conjuring up the righteous anger of every woman who has ever been fucked over, betrayed, or abused by the man she loves...and drawing on the sheer force of her musical incantation, she takes aim right between his fucking eyes, and unleashes thirty years of incandescent rage.
You can see on her face and hear in her voice that, even after all this time, she is still not fucking around; a woman scorned may forgive...but she never, ever forgets. Everytime I watch this video and she gets to the part where she looks him right in the eye and vows, "I'll follow you down til the sound of my voice will haunt you...", the hair stands up on my arms and I feel a force surge through me that is so primal, so ancient, so powerful, I can't even describe it.
I read somewhere that Stevie Nicks has said she hoped her songs about Buckingham would ensure, for all time, that he'd never be able to forget about her. You just know that when he's toodling down the Pacific Coast Highway -- on his way to Trader Joe's on a sunny Saturday afternoon with his little kids strapped in the back of his Mercedes SUV -- and this song comes on the radio, his dick shrivels up and the top of his skull is torn off and he's immediately transported right back to the 70s and the hellish midst of the agonizing, harrowing turmoil that was his doomed love affair with Stevie Nicks. By virtue of still being able to endlessly toy with him like that over the many miles and the many years -- along with the pathetic, feckless way he genuflects to her as she rages at him in front of the thousands of people seated in that arena -- I'd say she wins. His fate is sealed for all time. There is no escape for him.
By their very nature, women are shrewd, vindictive creatures. Because historically we have been denied access to positions of power and influence and because, for the most part, men are bigger and stronger and can physically overpower us, women have been forced to evolve, adapt, and develop an entirely unique set of survival skills. You wanna get drunk every night, fuck my best friend behind my back, slap me around, and then come after my kids, you pathetic worm? Go right ahead. But you gotta sleep sometime, motherfucker -- and when you do, you better do it with one eye open.
Because in the past we have been forced to be patient, to wait our turns, to not overstep our bounds, to be good girls, women will lie in wait...we will bide our time. We're good at it. That's right, asshole, keep bringing home your paycheck and feeding my babies and thinking you are getting away with something. And I'll smile sweetly at you like nothing in the world is wrong -- I might even make you something to eat, or fuck you -- and well. But I got a little message for you, pal: You won't win. You will be forever hunted and haunted and tormented by the fact that you had a good woman -- and you fucked it up. And you see this ass? You better get a real good look at it as I walk away...because you are never ever ever gonna have this again. In the end, a woman will always win. Always.
We are the witches. We are the healers. We are the mothers. We are the whores.
We are the ones who bring about peace, or die trying.
We are the ones who hunt, subdue, and take down men -- not on the field of battle, but through ingenuity and murmurs, soft skin and seamed hose.
We are the ones who bring light to the caves, and birth both kings and poets.
We are the ones who whisper spells and incantations a hundred times a day -- even if we aren't aware that we do so: "Drive carefully.", "Have a good day!", "Have sweet dreams.", "Be good."
We are the ones who weep at the mouth of the grave, and bury our children who die fighting the meaningless wars of men.
We are not destroyers of worlds, like men are -- we are the portals through which the silver spring of life itself stretches on and on, both back and forward, into eternity.
We are the ones who carry the power of the cosmos within us in ways that men could never even begin to comprehend.
We are women -- and we rule the fucking world.
I just spent $100 on drinks in South Beach :'(
Expensive tan.
Expensive tan.
- time zone occupied:33161
So, because I had the day off from work and it ended up raining this afternoon, I decided to go watch "Shine a Light" the Martin Scorcese documentary of the Rolling Stones concert at the Beacon Theater.
It was playing at my local expat movie theater.
Wow, is it an emotional experience. There are moments when the Stones are amazingly good. And there are moments when they are amazingly bad. "Marty", as Mick calls him during the film, captures both very well.
When Mick walks off the stage and lets Keith and Buddy Guy just jam for 10 minutes, the movie is brilliant. And when Keith walks off stage and lets Mick and Christina Agularia (sp?)rock out it's also brilliant.
But "Marty" captures the good with the bad. While he lets you see them have lots of fun on the songs the boys want to play, he also makes it very, very clear how bored they are of playing "Satisfaction" and "Brown Sugar"
That said, the tension between what they want to do and what they feel they have to do makes the movie fun.
For me the best moment is during "The Girl With The Faraway Eyes" when Keith throws his arm around Mick and gives him a kiss on the cheek. It's like they are brothers who both hate and love each other at the same time and are just giving into the reality of their lives.
It was playing at my local expat movie theater.
Wow, is it an emotional experience. There are moments when the Stones are amazingly good. And there are moments when they are amazingly bad. "Marty", as Mick calls him during the film, captures both very well.
When Mick walks off the stage and lets Keith and Buddy Guy just jam for 10 minutes, the movie is brilliant. And when Keith walks off stage and lets Mick and Christina Agularia (sp?)rock out it's also brilliant.
But "Marty" captures the good with the bad. While he lets you see them have lots of fun on the songs the boys want to play, he also makes it very, very clear how bored they are of playing "Satisfaction" and "Brown Sugar"
That said, the tension between what they want to do and what they feel they have to do makes the movie fun.
For me the best moment is during "The Girl With The Faraway Eyes" when Keith throws his arm around Mick and gives him a kiss on the cheek. It's like they are brothers who both hate and love each other at the same time and are just giving into the reality of their lives.
Visionary California Winemaker Robert Mondavi died yesterday at his home in Yountville, California. He was 94. That's a damned good run.
Even though anybody who knows me knows that I fucking LOATHE wine (it gives me an immediate and pounding headache, somethin' fierce) as well as most of the phony, pretentious pricks who push it (I got your "playful, nutty, noble bouquet" RIGHT HERE, motherfucker), I can still acknowledge this man's wondrous lifetime accomplishments. Mondavi was, after all, an ol' school, OG Italian winemaker; he was bonafide.
In fact, when I heard of his passing, the first thing that crossed my mind was that I hope his family has plans to carry his fierce, ballsy old ashes high into the air above his vineyards, so that they may be allowed to rain down upon the land that he loved so much and tended for a lifetime -- and finally become one with the soil that nurtures the vines that produce his prize-winning wine.
Then, at long last, Mondavi's own physical essence shall be allowed to mingle with and inform the terroir* of the blood-red hooch he so patiently teased and beguiled, like a lover, from a coy and tantalizing earth -- an earth upon which he spent almost a full century doing precisely what he loved, and famously doing it his way.
(Cue the swirling, awe-inspiring strains of The Circle of Life from The Lion King)
*Many thanks to the ever brilliant, ever cheesy
gordonzola for this bit of earthy wisdom and foodie terminology. I hope I did you proud, sir.On the upside, Dollhouse. (courtesy Hava: clip) Can't find the official trailer now, even yesterday -- they're clampin' down. Hmph. I have to wonder at this point if Dushku has some sort of indentured servitude going on with Whedon...
- it goes to 11:Pheugoo - American Boy around the World
He has, more times than I can even count, made me belly laugh so long and so hard that I actually pissed my granny panties from beginning to end. He tends to have that affect on people -- all 4' 11" of him.
We have been listening to all these harrowing and hilarious tales for years, and now our friend, Leslie Jordan, is finally letting the rest of the world in on his fascinating life and tantalizing secrets in a new memoir, due out June 3rd, My Trip Down the Pink Carpet.
Think David Sedaris meets Huckleberry Hound meets Truman Capote meets the funniest motherfucker you've ever known and I hope you brought a change of chonies in your purse.
Yeah.
There are a few stories in his endless and delightful oeuvre that are so shocking and so scandalous that I wonder if he's even included them in the book. I seriously doubt it. Suffice it to say, they involve chow mein noodles and a crossbow -- but of this I shall speak no more. In fact, wild horses couldn't drag it outta my fatass.
At any rate, buy his book! He's brilliant and smart and funny and completely unique and I love him very much -- and you will, too. I promise.
What's short for sex? Leslie Jordan
Friday, May 2nd 2008
New York Daily News
Four-foot-11 actor Leslie Jordan makes the tall claim that he's "the gayest man in the world." Whether or not that's true, he may be the lustiest.
In his dishy new memoir, "My Trip Down the Pink Carpet," the puckish veteran of such series as "Ally McBeal," "Boston Legal" and "Murphy Brown" unflinchingly describes his substance abuse and sex addiction. (One of the enduring mysteries of his life is waking up inside the gates of a lumberyard near West Hollywood's gay bars, unable to remember how he got there and why "I did not have on any underpants.")
But the funniest passages concern his seemingly endless crushes on his male (and mostly straight) co-stars.
"Dean Cain was stunning, and the sight of him strutting about in his Superman outfit was truly magnificent," Jordan gushes, recalling his cameo on "Lois and Clark." "I showed up on the set determined not to 'peter-gaze,' or at least not to get caught at it."
He became obsessed with Billy Bob Thornton while filming "Hearts Afire" after co-star John Ritter hinted to him about the size of Thornton's manhood.
Ritter explained that he'd gone surfing with Thornton and later hit the showers. Ritter told Jordan the sight of Thornton's "rope" would cause him to "fall in love."
Jordan laments that he never got the chance: "There are probably a lot of things I'll go a lifetime without seeing - the Mona Lisa, the Taj Mahal, the pyramids. And I'll probably never see Billy Bob's wiener, either."
The actor - best known for his Emmy-winning role as Karen's nemesis on "Will & Grace" - stood a better chance of seeing the man parts of Robert Downey Jr. when they met in jail.
Jordan was there for DUI convictions. (He avoided getting beaten up by telling the burly Mexican inmates stories about George Lopez, his former co-star in "Ski Patrol.") For half a day, they shared a cell. Jordan later wrote Downey a letter asking him to befriend an outcast HIV-positive inmate.
Years later, the "Iron Man" star confessed, "That letter really meant a lot to me."
A brace of vile and godless Jackals hungover and lounging about on a film set in Bucharest:
We have been listening to all these harrowing and hilarious tales for years, and now our friend, Leslie Jordan, is finally letting the rest of the world in on his fascinating life and tantalizing secrets in a new memoir, due out June 3rd, My Trip Down the Pink Carpet.
Think David Sedaris meets Huckleberry Hound meets Truman Capote meets the funniest motherfucker you've ever known and I hope you brought a change of chonies in your purse.
Yeah.
There are a few stories in his endless and delightful oeuvre that are so shocking and so scandalous that I wonder if he's even included them in the book. I seriously doubt it. Suffice it to say, they involve chow mein noodles and a crossbow -- but of this I shall speak no more. In fact, wild horses couldn't drag it outta my fatass.
At any rate, buy his book! He's brilliant and smart and funny and completely unique and I love him very much -- and you will, too. I promise.
What's short for sex? Leslie Jordan
Friday, May 2nd 2008
New York Daily News
Four-foot-11 actor Leslie Jordan makes the tall claim that he's "the gayest man in the world." Whether or not that's true, he may be the lustiest.
In his dishy new memoir, "My Trip Down the Pink Carpet," the puckish veteran of such series as "Ally McBeal," "Boston Legal" and "Murphy Brown" unflinchingly describes his substance abuse and sex addiction. (One of the enduring mysteries of his life is waking up inside the gates of a lumberyard near West Hollywood's gay bars, unable to remember how he got there and why "I did not have on any underpants.")
But the funniest passages concern his seemingly endless crushes on his male (and mostly straight) co-stars.
"Dean Cain was stunning, and the sight of him strutting about in his Superman outfit was truly magnificent," Jordan gushes, recalling his cameo on "Lois and Clark." "I showed up on the set determined not to 'peter-gaze,' or at least not to get caught at it."
He became obsessed with Billy Bob Thornton while filming "Hearts Afire" after co-star John Ritter hinted to him about the size of Thornton's manhood.
Ritter explained that he'd gone surfing with Thornton and later hit the showers. Ritter told Jordan the sight of Thornton's "rope" would cause him to "fall in love."
Jordan laments that he never got the chance: "There are probably a lot of things I'll go a lifetime without seeing - the Mona Lisa, the Taj Mahal, the pyramids. And I'll probably never see Billy Bob's wiener, either."
The actor - best known for his Emmy-winning role as Karen's nemesis on "Will & Grace" - stood a better chance of seeing the man parts of Robert Downey Jr. when they met in jail.
Jordan was there for DUI convictions. (He avoided getting beaten up by telling the burly Mexican inmates stories about George Lopez, his former co-star in "Ski Patrol.") For half a day, they shared a cell. Jordan later wrote Downey a letter asking him to befriend an outcast HIV-positive inmate.
Years later, the "Iron Man" star confessed, "That letter really meant a lot to me."
A brace of vile and godless Jackals hungover and lounging about on a film set in Bucharest:
Sabbat 2008-03-29/ (46) (teasers)
Vogue.
Ascension 2008-04-05/ (57) (teasers)
It's ok to love your booze...
Rachael!
Crap, where'd the CD player go?
Das Bunker 2008-04-11/ (24) (teasers)
Om nom nom cheezits nom...
Das Bunker 2008-04-25/ (30) (teasers)
Miles? Is that you?
Sabbat 2008-05-10/ (20)
My kitchen brings the cuteness. Yep.
Pooka before fashion trauma. / Pooka after fashion trauma. Exactly.
Ascension 2008-04-05/ (57) (teasers)
Das Bunker 2008-04-11/ (24) (teasers)
Das Bunker 2008-04-25/ (30) (teasers)
Sabbat 2008-05-10/ (20)
- it goes to 11:Alecia vs. Alesha - Strictly Pink Dancing (www.bobbymartini.co.uk)
Blog style stolen from Bucko
INT GLADSTONE HOTEL - ROOM 207- DAY
Man enters as Adam sits on window ledge.
ADAM - If you have any question, please don't hesitate.
Man - OK, thanks.
Adam turns his attention back to his laptop
Man - So, you obviously do commercial work.
Adam - Uh, not really. Actually, this is the first time any of my work has been seen publicly.
Man - Wow, really?
Adam - Well, I've never done anything commercial anyway. Except perhaps for a commercial photography course when I was 18.
Man - Mmmm... well, this is really sale-able work!
Adam - Thanks!
Man - No, thank you! This is very impressive work.
There's an Obama rally starting right now just a couple miles away from me. This was probably my last chance to see him live. :/
Sea World Teambuilding 2008-03-20/ (112) (teasers)
( Read more... )
Chez Tuffy/Cherry Blossom Parade 2008-04-19/ (142) (teasers)
( Read more... )
Crismonkey Birthday 2008-05-03/ (30) (teasers)
( Read more... )
Misc:
What... is this bug?
And that's not even getting into what you could do with the zip ties.
For M.
They see me rollin'. They hatin'.
( Read more... )
Chez Tuffy/Cherry Blossom Parade 2008-04-19/ (142) (teasers)
( Read more... )
Crismonkey Birthday 2008-05-03/ (30) (teasers)
( Read more... )
Misc:
- it goes to 11:And One - Military Fashion Show
does anyone here have experience with leaving their pets at a pet hotel? my family and i might be going on a boat cruise so we'll be gone for about 2 weeks if we do end up going. normally we take our dog to pet-friendly hotels. i'm really concerned about my dog. places you recommend? places i should stay away from? i have a chihuahua if that makes any difference. i'm also considering looking for family friends who are willing to take care of my dog, but if no one wants to we'll have to send my dog to a pet hotel. thanks.
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/syndicated.gif){kind=small}
Remember when I wrote about the cool stuff Leo and Vincenzo found in their garden?
Well, the other day I went over and let myself in the house with my guest key. Everything was open, so I knew they must be home, but I didn’t see anyone. I walked out to the garden and there they were, waist-deep in a hole they were digging, coming up with new things every time - or should I say, very, very old things.
This is what it looked like when they removed the rosemary bush, per my previous post:
By the time I had come over that day, they had revealed this:
From left to right: A stone wall; the base of a Roman column; and another large stone block that none of us could figure out what it was there for.
For a perspective, I had Leo stand next to the base:
They also found sampietrini, terracotta vase handles, bits of marble, and a whole bunch of other amazing stuff:
Vincenzo asked me, “How do you feel being a guest at your own private archaeological dig?”
“Like Indiana Jones,” I replied.
you learn more about a place once you live there.
this area is predominantly white. it's probably the thing i hate the most about it. "predominantly" puts it mildly, actually. there are no people of colour living in this area at all. i saw a colourful man walking down main street the other day. a hiker. passing through. someone said to me once, "black people aren't allowed to live here..." i thought it was a joke. today, during a conversation with one of the old local hillbillies about relationships and hooking up, i said that i might date a black guy because there's obviously a serious lack of colour around here. he said, "you don't wanna do that. they'll lynch him. they don't allow no niggers around here..." he was being dead serious. i tried to broach the subject wiht him, break through the bullshit. he said that he works with a lot of people of colour and they don't bother him, "it don't rub off on ya, ya know..."
omfg.
i'm a little in shock right now. i can't comprehend racism. and yet i've moved my children to a place where they still, apparantly, "lynch niggers".
how the fuck does that mentality even exist still? how the fuck am i going to deal with it? how the fuck am i going to raise my kids here without them being detrimentally effected by the hate and blindness? how the fuck can a hiking town in the year 2008 be filled with such ignorance?
*boggled*
and *deeply disturbed*
this area is predominantly white. it's probably the thing i hate the most about it. "predominantly" puts it mildly, actually. there are no people of colour living in this area at all. i saw a colourful man walking down main street the other day. a hiker. passing through. someone said to me once, "black people aren't allowed to live here..." i thought it was a joke. today, during a conversation with one of the old local hillbillies about relationships and hooking up, i said that i might date a black guy because there's obviously a serious lack of colour around here. he said, "you don't wanna do that. they'll lynch him. they don't allow no niggers around here..." he was being dead serious. i tried to broach the subject wiht him, break through the bullshit. he said that he works with a lot of people of colour and they don't bother him, "it don't rub off on ya, ya know..."
omfg.
i'm a little in shock right now. i can't comprehend racism. and yet i've moved my children to a place where they still, apparantly, "lynch niggers".
how the fuck does that mentality even exist still? how the fuck am i going to deal with it? how the fuck am i going to raise my kids here without them being detrimentally effected by the hate and blindness? how the fuck can a hiking town in the year 2008 be filled with such ignorance?
*boggled*
and *deeply disturbed*
- status indicator:deeply disturbed
The Vert Anglais Facebook Page is up and running.
You'll often see pictures of me, Rome Girl, Blond Lesbian, Woody Allen Film Reference, etc.. there.
You'll often see pictures of me, Rome Girl, Blond Lesbian, Woody Allen Film Reference, etc.. there.
