don't see this
latest comments:
wa huh? | bradWhere was the twinset option? | helena
Chess Sets | edward
In Defense of the Craft | dwight
Since everyone's being shy... | dwight
Make it so. | helena
$4 Million Gross | edward
clearly one of the highlights of my successful list was ed's location of casshern, which despite some troubles (bring the remote next time!) with my purloined region-free dvd player, managed to get watched over the break regardless.
if you like hyper-stylized sets, morally ambiguous protagonists (um, actually everybody's bad, in a sort of way) and enough communo/fascist cgi imagery to bring out the freedom-lover in ya (goose-stepping robots! truly!), then casshern will be a delight. and if not, well, i guess i pity you in a way.
basic storyline? well, it makes dune look like 'meet dick and jane' - there are some scientists with attractive offspring, an interminable war against terrorism, an epic struggle between some oddly spawned 'neo-sapiens' and the tyrannical authority figures...i could go on. maybe it was about struggling to choose sides when everybody's gray ~ casshern seems to enjoy pummeling robots immensely, but ultimately even he recognizes that his mere existence causes suffering in others. kinda uplifting, eh?
i actually enjoyed the vague philosophizing, especially because the movie didn't skimp on the action and the over-the-top images actually fed into the flow of the flick - think moulin rouge if there was no singing and the main character could defeat an army of robots with his stylish armor...okay, that metaphor breaks down. anyway, grab a region 2 player and this movie, and enjoy!
Songs for New Year’s Eve:
- Counting Crow’s “Long December,” from Recovering the Satellites
- Death Cab For Cutie’s “The New Year,” from Transatlanticism
- Drums and Tuba’s “Auld Lang Syne,” from the second My Pal God holiday comp.
And for those who want to do midnight right, here are some lyrics to “Auld Lang Syne.”
Best wishes to all, this and every year.
A friend of mine is going to the Holiday Bowl in San Diego. The catch is that she doesn’t want to go, but has to (it’s a family event).
I have a lot of experience in this area since—though I’m not a huge fan of athletics—I have had to watch a lot of games. (In terms of background, I a) managed women’s sports team from grades 8-12 to get out of gym, b) founded a rock pep band (we played Rage Against the Machine, among others), also to get out of gym, and c) nearly got thrown out of my college’s “marching” band for excessive drinking.)
So, being used to coming up with ways to entertain myself during sporting events, I have suggested that my friend can have a lot of fun. The following are the ideas I emailed to her; please add your own suggestions if you have any.
Games to play while watching football:
- Play "Spot the Mullet."
- Read aloud from Fred Exley's A Fan's Notes (an autobiographical novel about a drunk's obsession with the Giants).
- Guilt Dad into buying you a s---load of beer (his invite obligates him).
- Flirt with drunk guys/girls.
- Mimic the cheers. Add dirty words or political commentary.
- Whenever someone takes off their shirt close to you (oddly, the colder it is, the more likely they will do this), point out potential tumors on their flesh (preferably on their back, where they can't see). Extra points if they're wearing body-paint and you get them to smear it. Super extra points if they've got a letter painted on them, and you make them paranoid enough to make them run to the bathroom for a mirror and mess up whatever they were spelling (for example: GO TE M!).
- Ask what period it is.
- Talk about your period.
- Talk about how Canadian/Australian/Gaelic football is better.
- Engage in loud conversation about the homosocial vs. homosexual tensions and rituals of football. "What's with all the butt-slapping?" is the traditional way to begin.
- Try to sneak into the university/corporate boxes. Say you're someone spiffy's niece, and dare them to call you on it. Or cry.
- Sit amid a bunch of X team's fans, wearing Y team's colors. Cheer as loudly as possible.
- Start a sing-a-long. "Kumbaya" is good. Monty Python is better. Rocky Horror or Priscilla, Queen of the Desert is best.
- Read a porno mag. Really obviously, and in such a manner so that people can read over your shoulder. Revel in the fans around you struggling to split their attention.
- Finally, pop an Alka-Seltzer in your mouth, with a swig of water. Foam profusely. Claim it’s a seizure (thank you P.C.U.!) Rabies is even better, because then you can bite people.
I'm going to Hell, aren't I?
Speaking of Hume, did anyone else see a parallel in how last year there was a huge earthquake at this time and this year there was a huge tsunami?
I've dealt with plenty of physical pain. But overall, nothing I've ever experienced can compare to what many people must be feeling this week. I'm grateful I don't have to. No one should have to go through a disaster like the ones this year or last.
This is why I get annoyed when people make flippant remarks about "bad areas" of DC or how they feel scared to walk down a well lit city avenue at nine o'clock. Perhaps they have valid concerns. But in the grand scheme of things, most people in America (myself above all) have it better than 99% of the other people in the world. This doesn't mean that we shouldn't strive to make life better. That would be counterproductive. It does mean, however, that we should exercise some humility when expressing how tough we have it when our credit card bills pile up. Or when garbage collection is delayed a day, or if traffic makes us ten minutes late to work.
Yes, yes, I know, I'm a hypocrite. I like to complain as much as the next person. But in the dusty recesses of my mind, there's a tiny recording which repeats at a low volume that my lucky streak is just that: random chance. And we all know how random chance works out.
During the holiday interregnum, a few notes.
I've now noticed that almost all of my family, and even most of my friends, have some sort of portable music player. Not having one, I don't feel bad. It leaves a future gift slot open.
As far as personal booty, I managed to accumulate a large number of items which will go unmentioned, just like last year. I will point out that I received a very cool globe I wrote about earlier.
Every night that I've been able to, I've tried to polish off a book in front of a fire. The last one I've finished will be reviewed shortly, and was a marvelous work, despite almost running to 900 pages. In addition, the novel is set in the 18th century, leading to all sorts of Fun with Capitalization and Spelling of a Technologickal Nature. That and a Series of Infernal Devices. It reminds me that today, just as in the past, most people view machines as a sort of dark magic, to be negotiated by those Who Know Best. How illogickal!
I'll try to throw up some reviews of the games/books/music I've sampled during the break. But I'm promising nothing until I arrive back in the district.
One minor addendum: reading a book about how to engineer a tsunami in the pacific is fun. Opening the small town rag to read that such an event has actually occurred a few hours post book completion is scary. It's a good thing causality is a sham.
On Monday I went to see Lemony Snicket’s “A Series of Unfortunate Events”, which I basically enjoyed. But I made the mistake of seeing it at the Muvico Egyptian 24 at the Arundel Mills Mall. For those who have never been, this theater is designed to look like some kind of Egyptian tomb, complete with hieroglyphics and kohl-eyed imagery. There are rudimentary sphinxes in the lobby flanking the entrance, and to top it all off, a giant statue of an Egyptian god guards the main entrance.
My issue is that the designers didn’t pick just any god—Horus or Sobek or Bast, for instance. No, they picked Anubis, the jackal-headed god of death and dying.
Why? What are they trying to say? Are we to think we’re entering paradise? Are we symbolically staving off death? Or are we actually experiencing it, by sitting entombed in the dark for two hours? When we leave, have we changed in a fundamental way, or—by wasting the afternoon—are we just closer to our graves? It’s a sign I just can’t unpack.
I’ve given this rant before—to Forrest, to Edward and Deborah, and at many DW parties, for instance—and someone (thankfully, not the aforementioned brilliant folk) always says, “They probably just thought it looked cool.” Part of me is tempted to agree. But as someone who was nearly a religion major, I have to argue that you can’t pick and choose the meaning of a sign or symbol; each one has its own weight, resonance, and history that cannot be blithely ignored. For instance, the Confederate flag will likely always be a symbol of racism—Southern Republicans’ offensively myopic efforts to defend it notwithstanding—and no one’s going to get any slack for hanging up a swastika and saying, “But I thought it was just a curvy cross…” Granted, Egyptian imagery doesn’t carry anywhere near the tragic history of the previous two symbols, but I’m picking extreme but familiar examples to prove my point, which is that Anubis meant something to people, and still does, and that has to be acknowledged.
Plus, architects are pretty smart guys and gals on the whole, so they probably knew exactly what they were doing. (The fact that Muvico’s Anubis has skeletal-looking ribs supports this reading). And given the dizzyingly PoMo nature of Arundel Mills, I have to assume some joke is being played. Now I don’t mind an architectural joke or two; I love Williams’s ironic columns, and a certain wicked part of me grins gleefully when I think of how many “moral” right-wing conservatives are essentially being asked to worship at a pagan altar every time they see a flick. But on the whole something about seeing movies at Muvico always leaves a vague bad taste in my mouth. Because something is being offered up as a sacrifice…and I can’t shake the feeling that it’s us.