What better way to get over Hump Day than with random thoughts from me?
*sound of crickets chirping*
Yes...well...anyway...
The last movie I saw: The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus. Terry Gilliam movies tend to be glossy messes overstuffed with imaginative, engaging visuals undercut by meandering, unfocused plots. They also tend to be star-crossed, with financing falls though, studios interfering with editing or, in this case, the lead actor, Heath Ledger, passing away mid-production.
Gilliam found a creative way around this sad problem, though: He cast three other high-profile actors--Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Ferrell--to fill in for Ledger in the scenes that take place within the imagination-made-sort-of-corporeal of the good doctor (Christopher Plummer). The device works reasonably well--Depp in particular gets Ledger's movements and vocal cadences down so minutely that it takes a moment to realize it isn't Ledger.
There are delights to be found here, including Tom Waits as a scruffy, smooth-talking Devil and Lily Cole as the gorgeous daughter the Devil here to collect from Parnassus. but the reality of Ledger's death impedes the fantasy and casts a pall over the whole production, especially since the script already contained musings on mortality ("Nothing is permanent," notes Depp's version of Ledger's character, Tony, "not even death").
Travel reading: Red Dragon by Thomas Harris. It amazes me that this book is nearly 30 years old. It further amazes me that, in all that time, I'd never read it. With all the graphic violence and psychological anguish on display, though, it was this passage that affected me the most:
[The note] said Birmingham police had found a cat buried behind the Jacobi's garage. The cat had a flower between its paws and was wrapped in a dish towel. The cat's name was written on the lid in a childish hand. It wore no collar. A string tied in a granny knot held the lid on.
In my case, there was no lid to tie on, only a towel--not a dish towel, but a royal blue bath towel I'd put in the "cat carrier" (really an orange milk crate with a hinged lid) so that Ms. Christopher would be reasonably comfortable. And it wasn't a flower between her paws, butt was her favorite kitty toys--one of those little burlap bags with the word "catnip" stenciled on the side that had long since its potency, though I'd rub it down with fresh catnip to make my Girlish Girl smile again.
Stealth Cattle Cars. This morning, I got a rude surprise on the CTA Brown Line. As I boarded the second car at Francisco, I looked around and realized that I was on a "Max Capacity" car--a car with seats removed to allow more standing passengers aboard, better known among regular riders as a "cattle car."
Usually, when I see that either the first two or last two cars of a train are "cattle cars" I dash to the closest "regular" car, but this time I didn't do that because I hadn't noticed the large orange signs indicating that it was a "Max Capacity" car. At the next stop, I got off and bunny-hopped to the third car of the train, only to discover that it was a "cattle car" as well. Furthermore, neither car had the typical "Max Capacity" signs on the outside of the car.
I didn't try scrambling down to the next car; I simply found a corner of the car, parked in it and fumed all the way into the Loop.
When I arrived at work, one of my coworkers who takes the Blue Line related a similar experience--she also wound up on a stealth "cattle car" and had to ride it all the way downtown.
Is it something CTA is only just doing because of the inclement weather (which usually drives up ridership temporarily), or is this a permanent shift in policy? If it's the latter--if I'm to play the part of livestock for every morning commute--then I'll be switching to Metra (the separate commuter rail system, which has two stops within long walking distance of La Casa del Terror) or trying to put together a carpool.
CTA may say that they don't have any options, that this is the best they can do. If that's truly the case, then their best isn't nearly good enough. Its true in retail, and it's true here as well: Serve the customer, or the customer will go somewhere else.
Showing posts with label Miscellania. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miscellania. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Monday, November 9, 2009
Monday Miscellania 11/9/09
Travel Reading: The Mammoth Book of Jack the Ripper. Unlike most books about the gruesome murders in Whitechapel in 1888, The Mammoth Book doesn't push forward a single candidate and scream "HE DID IT!" Instead, the editors lay out the indisputable facts (while simultaneously noting that, among "Ripperologists," there may be no such thing as an "indisputable fact"), flags suspect evidence and turns loose a whole slew of experts offering a wide range of opinions as to who may or may not have done it. It's a great place for a beginner to get an overview of history's greatest unsolved crime. It's definitely better than just about any of the movie versions. (!988's Jack the Ripper, recently issued on DVD for the first time by the WB Archive, is the most historically accurate, though it fudges enough details throughout to place it more appropriately in the "speculative fiction" category. 1999's From Hell is allegedly based on the exhaustively researched graphic novel by Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell, but bears little resemblance to the graphic novel, much less reality.)
The last movie I saw: The Men Who Stare at Goats. "Military intelligence" has long been accepted as an oxymoron, and nothing in this movie, an adaptation of Jon Ronson's nonfiction book, contradicts that view. However, director Grant Heslov, screenwriter Peter Straughan and most of the actors (Jeff Bridges, Ewan McGregor and Kevin Spacey among them) put so much emphasis on the wacky aspects of the story of a U.S. military unit that tries to employ psychic abilities in defense of our country that I fully expected Fozzy Bear to come on screen and yell 'WOCKA WOCKA WOCKA!" at me to punctuate the jokes. (As it is, the awful music score by Rolfe Kent pretty much does that anyway.) Only George Clooney, who plays psychic "super soldier" LynCassady, seems to know that with material this potentially outrageous, the smartest approach is to play it with a straight face. Consequently, not only are Clooney's scenes funnier, but his character is far more sympathetic; it's a lot easier to care about the fate of someone who genuinely believes something crazy and is crushed to discover it isn't true than it is to sympathize with someone who constantly winks at you as if to say, "Just kiddin', folks."
The last movie I saw: The Men Who Stare at Goats. "Military intelligence" has long been accepted as an oxymoron, and nothing in this movie, an adaptation of Jon Ronson's nonfiction book, contradicts that view. However, director Grant Heslov, screenwriter Peter Straughan and most of the actors (Jeff Bridges, Ewan McGregor and Kevin Spacey among them) put so much emphasis on the wacky aspects of the story of a U.S. military unit that tries to employ psychic abilities in defense of our country that I fully expected Fozzy Bear to come on screen and yell 'WOCKA WOCKA WOCKA!" at me to punctuate the jokes. (As it is, the awful music score by Rolfe Kent pretty much does that anyway.) Only George Clooney, who plays psychic "super soldier" LynCassady, seems to know that with material this potentially outrageous, the smartest approach is to play it with a straight face. Consequently, not only are Clooney's scenes funnier, but his character is far more sympathetic; it's a lot easier to care about the fate of someone who genuinely believes something crazy and is crushed to discover it isn't true than it is to sympathize with someone who constantly winks at you as if to say, "Just kiddin', folks."
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday Miscellania 10/12/09
Last Movie I saw: Whip It. Why did this movie fail at the box office? Was it resistance to the concept of Drew Barrymore as a director? (She does a relatively straightforward job--not bad for a first-timer, but with plenty of room to grow.) Was it a general lack of interest in roller derby? Was it backlash-by-proxy against Diablo Cody because Ellen Page starred in Juno? (At least one review I read felt the need to crack on RS while praising Page--Diablo-as-piñata has become the latest crutch for lazy film critics.)
Whatever. Whip It is an entertaining little flick--the plot is a cliche combo of "teen rebels against tight-assed mom" and "bad-but-plucky sports team becomes good enough to play for the championship," but it's more than slightly freshened by a remarkably deep cast (Page, Daniel Stern, Marcia Gay Harden, Kristen Wiig, Zoe Bell and Barrymore herself).
If you can't get out to one of the few theaters still rolling it, look for it on cable or DVD in a few months. It'll be worth it.
Travel Reading: Chicago TV Horror Shows: From Shock Theatre to Svengoolie. This history of local TV shows specializing in horror films given to me as a Christmas present by JB a couple of years ago, and it's been an off-and-on travel companion of mine ever since. Writers Ted Okuda and Mark Yurkiw ramble a bit--they could have used a good copyeditor.
They do, however, hit many the high points of my misspent youth, including Creature Features on WGN (with its creepy Henry Mancini theme music and that drawing of Lon Chaney from London After Midnight that gave me nightmares for years) and both the original Svengoolie, Jerry G. Bishop, and his successor, Son of Svengoolie, Rich Koz, who's still on the air every Saturday night, with bad movies and worse jokes. I couldn't think of a better visual comfort food.
Last, But Not Least: The Chicago Transit Authority announced today that as of February 2010, they're simultaneously raising fares (some as high as $3 per ride) and cutting service. So, we'll be paying even more and getting even less! Happy Monday, everybody!
Whatever. Whip It is an entertaining little flick--the plot is a cliche combo of "teen rebels against tight-assed mom" and "bad-but-plucky sports team becomes good enough to play for the championship," but it's more than slightly freshened by a remarkably deep cast (Page, Daniel Stern, Marcia Gay Harden, Kristen Wiig, Zoe Bell and Barrymore herself).
If you can't get out to one of the few theaters still rolling it, look for it on cable or DVD in a few months. It'll be worth it.
Travel Reading: Chicago TV Horror Shows: From Shock Theatre to Svengoolie. This history of local TV shows specializing in horror films given to me as a Christmas present by JB a couple of years ago, and it's been an off-and-on travel companion of mine ever since. Writers Ted Okuda and Mark Yurkiw ramble a bit--they could have used a good copyeditor.
They do, however, hit many the high points of my misspent youth, including Creature Features on WGN (with its creepy Henry Mancini theme music and that drawing of Lon Chaney from London After Midnight that gave me nightmares for years) and both the original Svengoolie, Jerry G. Bishop, and his successor, Son of Svengoolie, Rich Koz, who's still on the air every Saturday night, with bad movies and worse jokes. I couldn't think of a better visual comfort food.
Last, But Not Least: The Chicago Transit Authority announced today that as of February 2010, they're simultaneously raising fares (some as high as $3 per ride) and cutting service. So, we'll be paying even more and getting even less! Happy Monday, everybody!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Miscellaneous Miscellania
Last Movie I Saw: None, actually. Time has been tight, money tighter. Hope to catch up the next couple of months with a whole bunch of movies I want to see, like Whiteout, Extract, Whip It and Zombieland.
Travel Reading: The Great Escape by Paul Brickhill. You think the classic movie is hard to believe? The story was actually toned down from what really happened when 76 POWs escaped from a German prison camp during World War II. Just shows how creative and energetic one can be when starving and desperate.
Halloween Harbingers: Last night, I stopped by one of my many neighborhood Walgreens to pick up a gallon of milk and saw the worker bees in the seasonal aisle busily packing away the back to school items and loading the shelves with Halloween merchandise. Away go the Hannah Montana spiral-bound notebooks. Out come the light-up pumpkins and scented candles. In past years, I've lamented this--it's not even Labor Day yet, for cryin' out loud--but this time I'm embracing it. I'm ready. Bring on the skeletons and bats, the witches and rats (sorry JB). Throw open the doors of La Casa del Terror and let the Halloween Movie Bash (actually on Halloween this year!) be festive.
And Last, But Far from Least...A very Happy Birthday to Superbadfriend! Hope you're out doing fun, celebratory stuff instead of staying in and reading this, even though you're one of the relatively few who does!
Travel Reading: The Great Escape by Paul Brickhill. You think the classic movie is hard to believe? The story was actually toned down from what really happened when 76 POWs escaped from a German prison camp during World War II. Just shows how creative and energetic one can be when starving and desperate.
Halloween Harbingers: Last night, I stopped by one of my many neighborhood Walgreens to pick up a gallon of milk and saw the worker bees in the seasonal aisle busily packing away the back to school items and loading the shelves with Halloween merchandise. Away go the Hannah Montana spiral-bound notebooks. Out come the light-up pumpkins and scented candles. In past years, I've lamented this--it's not even Labor Day yet, for cryin' out loud--but this time I'm embracing it. I'm ready. Bring on the skeletons and bats, the witches and rats (sorry JB). Throw open the doors of La Casa del Terror and let the Halloween Movie Bash (actually on Halloween this year!) be festive.
And Last, But Far from Least...A very Happy Birthday to Superbadfriend! Hope you're out doing fun, celebratory stuff instead of staying in and reading this, even though you're one of the relatively few who does!
Political Miscellania
A Taxing Issue (update): The Cook County Board of Commissioners once again failed to overturn the odious, economically crippling 1% sales tax pushed through by County Board President Todd Stroger. This time, the effort to override Stroger's veto of the rollback was defeated because one commissioner, Deborah Sims, who had voted in favor of the repeal the last time it came up, changed her vote at the last minute. (Bet her constituents just love that.) I just hope the voters of Cook County remember all this--how Stroger and his enablers raised our taxes while not making necessary cuts in our bloated county government. They are stealing from us. The voters need to stop helping them do so.
Oprah-Sized Traffic Jam: On behalf of the many people (including several coworkers) who will be inconvenienced by the massive traffic entanglement to be caused by the taping of the season premiere of The Oprah Winfrey Show, for which the city is closing several blocks of the ordinarily very busy Michigan Avenue for two days, I'd like to thank Oprah for not caring how much she inconveniences the average people just trying to get their hourly wage. (Couldn't you have just had your premiere in a park? Or a theater? Or on the South or West Sides, which could badly use some attention from someone, anyone?) I'd also like to thank Mayor Richard M. Daley for telling everyone what a great idea he thinks this is, how he wishes we could do stuff like this more often and how he's sure the people understand why this is necessary. Uh huh.
Olympics Decision Day: Speaking of our mayor, he can't be too thrilled with the latest poll results regarding his bid for the 2016 Summer Olympics, which will be approved or denied in a matter of weeks. According to the latest Chicago Tribune poll, respondents were nearly evenly split on whether they wanted the Olympics here or not--hardly a ringing civic endorsement for the idea--and they clearly don't want taxpayers to foot the bill for it (by an 80-20 margin). We don't have the money. We don't have the transportation. We don't have the infrastructure. Recent city endeavors, like Millennium Park (which is beautiful, but ran four years and hundreds of millions of dollars over what it should have) and the massively screwed-up parking meter lease deal. So, naturally, the mayor thinks it's a GREAT idea! (And we keep re-electing this guy why, exactly?)
Oprah-Sized Traffic Jam: On behalf of the many people (including several coworkers) who will be inconvenienced by the massive traffic entanglement to be caused by the taping of the season premiere of The Oprah Winfrey Show, for which the city is closing several blocks of the ordinarily very busy Michigan Avenue for two days, I'd like to thank Oprah for not caring how much she inconveniences the average people just trying to get their hourly wage. (Couldn't you have just had your premiere in a park? Or a theater? Or on the South or West Sides, which could badly use some attention from someone, anyone?) I'd also like to thank Mayor Richard M. Daley for telling everyone what a great idea he thinks this is, how he wishes we could do stuff like this more often and how he's sure the people understand why this is necessary. Uh huh.
Olympics Decision Day: Speaking of our mayor, he can't be too thrilled with the latest poll results regarding his bid for the 2016 Summer Olympics, which will be approved or denied in a matter of weeks. According to the latest Chicago Tribune poll, respondents were nearly evenly split on whether they wanted the Olympics here or not--hardly a ringing civic endorsement for the idea--and they clearly don't want taxpayers to foot the bill for it (by an 80-20 margin). We don't have the money. We don't have the transportation. We don't have the infrastructure. Recent city endeavors, like Millennium Park (which is beautiful, but ran four years and hundreds of millions of dollars over what it should have) and the massively screwed-up parking meter lease deal. So, naturally, the mayor thinks it's a GREAT idea! (And we keep re-electing this guy why, exactly?)
Monday, August 24, 2009
Monday Miscellania 8/24/09
Another roundup of randomness:
Travel Reading: Richard Stark's Parker: The Hunter. Stark (a.k.a. Donald Westlake) wrote a lengthy series of crime novels featuring his brutish but deadly smart thief, Parker (no first name) before he died last year at the age of 75. Before he died, however, he gave permission for comic book writer/artist Darwyn Cooke to adapt his first Parker Novel, The Hunter, as a graphic novel. (The Hunter had previously been adapted twice for the big screen--once as Point Blank with Lee Marvin, and again as Payback starring Mel Gibson.)
The world of The Hunter is pure pulp, populated by tough-taking guys adept at using their guns and fists, and women who are treated with little more than contempt--they're hookers or betrayers or objects of scorn to be used and nothing more. Cook obviously loves noir--anyone who's read his runs on Catwoman or The Spirit could see that--and is religiously faithful to Stark/Westlake's words, providing gorgeous images to illustrate this dark, disturbing, ruthless world without making any concessions to political correctness.
I love Cook's artwork--always have--but anyone with even a modicum of respect for women might want to approach Richard Stark's Parker: The Hunter with appropriate caution.
Last Movie I Saw: Actually, I saw two movies over the weekend: Inglourious Basterds, and Post Grad.
The latter is a lighter-than-lightweight comedy starring Alexis Bledel (formerly of TV's Gilmore Girls and the two Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants movies) as a college graduate who has a hard time finding and keeping a job, despite the support of her wacky family (Michael Keaton as her dad, Jane Lynch as mom and Carol Burnett as grandma), and has romantic entanglements with her platonic male friend (Zach Gilford) and the hunky Brazilian across the street (Rodrigo Santoro). The movie is as unambitious as it sounds and features my new least-favorite movie trend, killing a pet off for "laughs" (it wasn't funny when I saw it happen in Drag Me to Hell and Easy Virtue, and it's not funny here). Talent gets wasted as well, especially Lynch and the usually great J.K. Simmons as Gilford's grouchy dad.
What makes Post Grad not only watchable but pleasantly amusing (pet death scene excepted) is Bledel, She's so smart, charming and heartbreakingly beautiful that it's damn near impossible not to like her. Post Grad may aim low, but it mostly hits its marks.
The same can't be said for Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds, which aims considerably higher, but falls considerably short.
I've long since wearied of Tarantino's references to other movies, both overt (direct mentions of G.W. Pabst, Emil Jannings and Leni Riefenstahl, among other notables of German cinema) and covert (many songs lifted from other soundtracks, including at least four title themes, and this film's title itself, a bastardization, if you will, of a 1978 B-level World War 2 flick starring Fred Williamson).
What came off as a stylistic tic back in the heady days of Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown (two of my all-time favorite movies) now seems more like a creative crutch. I'd long hoped that Tarantino would stop winking at the film geeks in his audience and just tell his own story on his own terms. Now I realize he may not be capable of such.
That's not to say Inglourious Basterds is void of moments of greatness. The opening scene, with SS Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz) hunting for Jews on a French dairy farm, is terrific--Landa is intelligent, charming and calm, and consequently all the more menacing. And the closing scene has arresting imagery, including a laughing woman's face projected onto the billowing smoke of a burning theater.
But in between? I did something I've never done in a Tarantino film: I glanced at my watch. Frequently.
Travel Reading: Richard Stark's Parker: The Hunter. Stark (a.k.a. Donald Westlake) wrote a lengthy series of crime novels featuring his brutish but deadly smart thief, Parker (no first name) before he died last year at the age of 75. Before he died, however, he gave permission for comic book writer/artist Darwyn Cooke to adapt his first Parker Novel, The Hunter, as a graphic novel. (The Hunter had previously been adapted twice for the big screen--once as Point Blank with Lee Marvin, and again as Payback starring Mel Gibson.)
The world of The Hunter is pure pulp, populated by tough-taking guys adept at using their guns and fists, and women who are treated with little more than contempt--they're hookers or betrayers or objects of scorn to be used and nothing more. Cook obviously loves noir--anyone who's read his runs on Catwoman or The Spirit could see that--and is religiously faithful to Stark/Westlake's words, providing gorgeous images to illustrate this dark, disturbing, ruthless world without making any concessions to political correctness.
I love Cook's artwork--always have--but anyone with even a modicum of respect for women might want to approach Richard Stark's Parker: The Hunter with appropriate caution.
Last Movie I Saw: Actually, I saw two movies over the weekend: Inglourious Basterds, and Post Grad.
The latter is a lighter-than-lightweight comedy starring Alexis Bledel (formerly of TV's Gilmore Girls and the two Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants movies) as a college graduate who has a hard time finding and keeping a job, despite the support of her wacky family (Michael Keaton as her dad, Jane Lynch as mom and Carol Burnett as grandma), and has romantic entanglements with her platonic male friend (Zach Gilford) and the hunky Brazilian across the street (Rodrigo Santoro). The movie is as unambitious as it sounds and features my new least-favorite movie trend, killing a pet off for "laughs" (it wasn't funny when I saw it happen in Drag Me to Hell and Easy Virtue, and it's not funny here). Talent gets wasted as well, especially Lynch and the usually great J.K. Simmons as Gilford's grouchy dad.
What makes Post Grad not only watchable but pleasantly amusing (pet death scene excepted) is Bledel, She's so smart, charming and heartbreakingly beautiful that it's damn near impossible not to like her. Post Grad may aim low, but it mostly hits its marks.
The same can't be said for Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds, which aims considerably higher, but falls considerably short.
I've long since wearied of Tarantino's references to other movies, both overt (direct mentions of G.W. Pabst, Emil Jannings and Leni Riefenstahl, among other notables of German cinema) and covert (many songs lifted from other soundtracks, including at least four title themes, and this film's title itself, a bastardization, if you will, of a 1978 B-level World War 2 flick starring Fred Williamson).
What came off as a stylistic tic back in the heady days of Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown (two of my all-time favorite movies) now seems more like a creative crutch. I'd long hoped that Tarantino would stop winking at the film geeks in his audience and just tell his own story on his own terms. Now I realize he may not be capable of such.
That's not to say Inglourious Basterds is void of moments of greatness. The opening scene, with SS Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz) hunting for Jews on a French dairy farm, is terrific--Landa is intelligent, charming and calm, and consequently all the more menacing. And the closing scene has arresting imagery, including a laughing woman's face projected onto the billowing smoke of a burning theater.
But in between? I did something I've never done in a Tarantino film: I glanced at my watch. Frequently.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Monday Miscellania 8/10/09
And now, debuting a new regular feature on Adoresixtyfour: Random thoughts and messages pretending to be a proper blog entry. Enjoy!
Travel Reading: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. This sounded like a lot of fun as a concept, but isn't proving to be so in execution. Once you get the joke--it's Jane Austen's novel, now with 100% more decapitations and gut-munching!--it gets pretty old pretty fast. Still, at least I'll be able to say that I've read Pride and Prejudice, now won't I?
Last Movie I Saw: 500 Days of Summer. I refuse to use the overly cute parentheses somebody threw around "500" in the title, but I embrace the movie itself. It's sweet. It's sad. It's pretty much what love is like (or, at least, what I remember love being like), down to the out-of-chronological-order narrative; when we think back on our relationships, we don't remember events/emotions in chronological order, so shuffling the story to match the way we remember even what we'd rather forget makes total sense and doesn't make the movie hard to follow at all. Also? Zooey Deschanel is cute as hell.
Watching: Ace of Cakes. I love this show. I love that these people get to be artistic all day long. I love that they like working with each other and seem to be having fun at work. I hope to work at such a place someday. For now? I'm just glad to have a job.
Travel Reading: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. This sounded like a lot of fun as a concept, but isn't proving to be so in execution. Once you get the joke--it's Jane Austen's novel, now with 100% more decapitations and gut-munching!--it gets pretty old pretty fast. Still, at least I'll be able to say that I've read Pride and Prejudice, now won't I?
Last Movie I Saw: 500 Days of Summer. I refuse to use the overly cute parentheses somebody threw around "500" in the title, but I embrace the movie itself. It's sweet. It's sad. It's pretty much what love is like (or, at least, what I remember love being like), down to the out-of-chronological-order narrative; when we think back on our relationships, we don't remember events/emotions in chronological order, so shuffling the story to match the way we remember even what we'd rather forget makes total sense and doesn't make the movie hard to follow at all. Also? Zooey Deschanel is cute as hell.
Watching: Ace of Cakes. I love this show. I love that these people get to be artistic all day long. I love that they like working with each other and seem to be having fun at work. I hope to work at such a place someday. For now? I'm just glad to have a job.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Miscellania
I was off work yesterday with a migraine. Today? My head still hurts, but if yesterday was a 10, today is a 3. Could be worse. Could be raining...oh, wait...it'll be doing that later. Damn.
And now? A few random thoughts:
1. Dear Internets: Please stop showing me photos of gross, crooked teeth. Whatever the advertised product it--dental services, teeth whiteners, whatever--the nasty-looking photos are keeping me away. You're wasting my time and your effort and cash. So stop it. Please. Thank you.
2. While I have your ear, Internets...please stop showing me video of Michael Jackson's head on fire. The man is dead well before his time. Trying to figure out why he was (allegedly) addicted to prescription pain killers would have been a lot more useful when he was alive.
3. I like the cooler weather of fall and spring, but find it disconcerting in July. the average high for tomorrow in Chicago is 84; the projected high temperature doesn't break 70. That would be great if this were May or October. But in July? This worries me.
4. I really don't have a fourth thing to say. Maybe I could come up with one if my head didn't still hurt. But it does. Ow.
And now? A few random thoughts:
1. Dear Internets: Please stop showing me photos of gross, crooked teeth. Whatever the advertised product it--dental services, teeth whiteners, whatever--the nasty-looking photos are keeping me away. You're wasting my time and your effort and cash. So stop it. Please. Thank you.
2. While I have your ear, Internets...please stop showing me video of Michael Jackson's head on fire. The man is dead well before his time. Trying to figure out why he was (allegedly) addicted to prescription pain killers would have been a lot more useful when he was alive.
3. I like the cooler weather of fall and spring, but find it disconcerting in July. the average high for tomorrow in Chicago is 84; the projected high temperature doesn't break 70. That would be great if this were May or October. But in July? This worries me.
4. I really don't have a fourth thing to say. Maybe I could come up with one if my head didn't still hurt. But it does. Ow.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Quickies
No, not that kind of quickie. Get your minds out of the gutter for just a moment. As most of you know, my job is keeping me insanely busy and likely will through Thanksgiving, if not Christmas. That being said, I'd still like to sneak in updates where I can. So here are a few short ones, most of which go back to essays past:
My Artistic Friends
Superbadfriend used to be a co-worker and is still one of my best friends. She's also one of the most creative people I know, working with encaustics (paint made from pigments, beeswax and resin) and found objects. And now? She has a website. Go there and check out her amazing work. If you see something you might want to hang in your own home (like the miniature pieces I'm honored to have hanging in mine), shoot her an email and ask about prices. And even if you don't want to buy anything right now, just shoot her an email anyway--she's one of the sweetest, most friendly, most supportive people you'll ever talk to.
This Sporting Life
Cubs fans: You don't need Alex Rodriguez--you already have enough overpriced players who can't hit in the playoffs. White Sox fans: Aaron Rowand is a free agent--hope the team signs him and regains some of that spark back that they had when they won the World Series. Blackhawks fans: Getting home games on TV is a great place to start--hope they put something on the ice worth watching. Bulls fans: You don't need Kobe Bryant--he won't win you any more championships by himself than he won in LA by himself. Bears fans: With no running game, defenders who can't tackle and a former Pro Bowler with an arthritic back and a pissy attitude (hey, it's the media's fault your back hurts, Mr. Urlacher), the quality of your starting quarterback is suddenly the least of your concerns--happy now?
The Daley Grind
So nice of you, Mr. Mayor, to set aside your obsession with the 2016 Olympics (which a lot of Chicagoans don't want anyway since it'll make us more of a terrorist threat and create bigger traffic headaches than we already have) and your record tax increase proposal (so enormous that quite a few of us, myself included, might have to move out of the city in the near future because we won't be able to afford to live here anymore) in order to focus, if only for a minute or two, on the budget crisis at the CTA. Good to know you can pay attention to the near future--as in literally days from now--instead of going glassy-eyed like an addled 5-year-old who starts dreaming about Christmas Day in April.
Speaking of the CTA...
All those lovely, laminated signs you have taped up at bus stops and those equally eye-catching ones on the trains where paid advertisements usually are found must have cost some serious coinÑcoin you keep telling everybody and anybody with ears on their heads you don't have. I know the CTA needs a permanent funding solutions, I don't want any of my bus or train routes getting axed, and I do want our Governor and Speaker of the House to stop their dick-wagging contest because they're both coming off like short, short men. But printing and distributing all those signs and flyers makes it look like you've got money to spare or that the agency isn't particularly well managed or both--not the best impression when you've got your hand out.
The Rainbow Bridge
Sometimes, pet names qualify as truth in advertising.
Example: Stubby, a gray calico who was small, short and missing at least three joints off her tail. Her nickname, Squally, fit as well: for something so small, she sure was loud. She lived a long and mostly placid life with Mom, but even long and placid lives have an end. She'd been sick for some time--can't remember whether it was her kidneys or her thyroid--and when scheduling dinner recently, Mom told me Stubby' s time was nearly at hand; she was barely eating and had lost a lot of weight (and she never weighed much to begin with).
So the next time I came over, I sought Stubby out. She was in a cardboard box in the dining room, small and frail in the darkness. I reached in and stroked her head; she rubbed against my hand and purred loudly. As I walked away, she rose unsteadily, vaulted from the box to the dining room table (as much as a cat on her deathbed can actually "vault") and staggered unsteadily after me. I picked her up (she weighed next to nothing), carried her to the living room and set her in my lap, where she stayed for the remainder of the evening, alternately purring at being petted and staring off into the distance at something the rest of us couldn't see.
One Last Thing
Halloween is my favorite holiday. Has been since I was a kid. Always loved decorating my apartment for the occasion, watching movies with my friends, the whole deal. (Okay, not so much the dressing up part--once you spend an evening in a Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp costume, you're pretty much scarred for life.) So tonight, I'll be in front of the TV in La Casa del Terror, tasty treats at hand, remote in hand, and monsters traversing my scream...er, screen. Have a happy and safe Halloween, one and all.
My Artistic Friends
Superbadfriend used to be a co-worker and is still one of my best friends. She's also one of the most creative people I know, working with encaustics (paint made from pigments, beeswax and resin) and found objects. And now? She has a website. Go there and check out her amazing work. If you see something you might want to hang in your own home (like the miniature pieces I'm honored to have hanging in mine), shoot her an email and ask about prices. And even if you don't want to buy anything right now, just shoot her an email anyway--she's one of the sweetest, most friendly, most supportive people you'll ever talk to.
This Sporting Life
Cubs fans: You don't need Alex Rodriguez--you already have enough overpriced players who can't hit in the playoffs. White Sox fans: Aaron Rowand is a free agent--hope the team signs him and regains some of that spark back that they had when they won the World Series. Blackhawks fans: Getting home games on TV is a great place to start--hope they put something on the ice worth watching. Bulls fans: You don't need Kobe Bryant--he won't win you any more championships by himself than he won in LA by himself. Bears fans: With no running game, defenders who can't tackle and a former Pro Bowler with an arthritic back and a pissy attitude (hey, it's the media's fault your back hurts, Mr. Urlacher), the quality of your starting quarterback is suddenly the least of your concerns--happy now?
The Daley Grind
So nice of you, Mr. Mayor, to set aside your obsession with the 2016 Olympics (which a lot of Chicagoans don't want anyway since it'll make us more of a terrorist threat and create bigger traffic headaches than we already have) and your record tax increase proposal (so enormous that quite a few of us, myself included, might have to move out of the city in the near future because we won't be able to afford to live here anymore) in order to focus, if only for a minute or two, on the budget crisis at the CTA. Good to know you can pay attention to the near future--as in literally days from now--instead of going glassy-eyed like an addled 5-year-old who starts dreaming about Christmas Day in April.
Speaking of the CTA...
All those lovely, laminated signs you have taped up at bus stops and those equally eye-catching ones on the trains where paid advertisements usually are found must have cost some serious coinÑcoin you keep telling everybody and anybody with ears on their heads you don't have. I know the CTA needs a permanent funding solutions, I don't want any of my bus or train routes getting axed, and I do want our Governor and Speaker of the House to stop their dick-wagging contest because they're both coming off like short, short men. But printing and distributing all those signs and flyers makes it look like you've got money to spare or that the agency isn't particularly well managed or both--not the best impression when you've got your hand out.
The Rainbow Bridge
Sometimes, pet names qualify as truth in advertising.
Example: Stubby, a gray calico who was small, short and missing at least three joints off her tail. Her nickname, Squally, fit as well: for something so small, she sure was loud. She lived a long and mostly placid life with Mom, but even long and placid lives have an end. She'd been sick for some time--can't remember whether it was her kidneys or her thyroid--and when scheduling dinner recently, Mom told me Stubby' s time was nearly at hand; she was barely eating and had lost a lot of weight (and she never weighed much to begin with).
So the next time I came over, I sought Stubby out. She was in a cardboard box in the dining room, small and frail in the darkness. I reached in and stroked her head; she rubbed against my hand and purred loudly. As I walked away, she rose unsteadily, vaulted from the box to the dining room table (as much as a cat on her deathbed can actually "vault") and staggered unsteadily after me. I picked her up (she weighed next to nothing), carried her to the living room and set her in my lap, where she stayed for the remainder of the evening, alternately purring at being petted and staring off into the distance at something the rest of us couldn't see.
One Last Thing
Halloween is my favorite holiday. Has been since I was a kid. Always loved decorating my apartment for the occasion, watching movies with my friends, the whole deal. (Okay, not so much the dressing up part--once you spend an evening in a Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp costume, you're pretty much scarred for life.) So tonight, I'll be in front of the TV in La Casa del Terror, tasty treats at hand, remote in hand, and monsters traversing my scream...er, screen. Have a happy and safe Halloween, one and all.
Monday, February 11, 2002
Ends & Odds
If I were a lame-ass newspaper columnist, I'd say that this week's home page is "seven columns for the price of one" or some such shit instead of telling the truth: I couldn't quite get it together to do one long piece, so I'm gonna feed you several small ones and hope that you don't notice how abundantly lazy I am.
Well, to be fair to myself for a second--just for a second--I'm not a total loser: I've had a cold off and on, mostly on, since the last update and feel, as I type this, like my head and chest are packed with soggy newspaper. (Not even a classy newspaper like The New York Times or The Wall Street Journal, but something trashy like The Weekly World News or The Sun-Times.) And I'm on vacation from work this week, so I'll be able to get some writing and photography done...just as soon as my nose stops running.
So while I marvel at just how much fluid one's sinuses can hold, here are some brief updates and announcements:
Requiem for a Lioness
The vibe of Mom's living room was wrong. And as I pulled off my coat and looked from one couch to the other, I figured out why: Kiki was nowhere to be found. In that moment, I knew. But I let Mom give me the news in her own time. "I had to have Kiki put down," she said quietly. "She couldn't walk anymore." So despite a migraine (something Mom gets once or twice a month), Mom bundled up Kiki, carried her to the vet and did what needed to be done. It's not an easy thing to do--I've only had to do it twice in my life, and that's two more times than I ever wanted to--but as hard and sad as having a beloved pet put to sleep is, it's better than letting the animal suffer. So bye, Kiki. I'll miss you shedding at will on my black slacks and throwing yourself at the front door when I came in and bitching me out when I wouldn't let you dash out into the darkness. I'll just plain miss you. Damn.
From the "Less Said, the Better" Department
In the e-mail for my last update, I said I would be writing about Valentine's Day this time. But I've changed my mind since then. What do I have to say about it, really? Nothing good. And is it a coincidence that I'm taking my week of vacation now? No, it is not. Maybe next year, I'll have a reason to talk about V-Day or post some poetry or do something more than this. But this year, I just don't feel like wasting the time or energy. (Gee, do I seem just a little bitter?)
No, I Don't Have an Upholstered Balcony. Why Do You Ask?
Also in my last e-mail, I mentioned "an announcement of some interest" or something equally enigmatic. Well, here it is: Starting next week, I'll be posting movie reviews on Adoresixtyfour.com. They'll be a mixed bag of movies currently in release, classics of the silver screen and wastes of film stock. And truth be told, I'll probably update the Movie Reviews page more often than I will the Home page. So tune in next week and let me know what you think.
Okay. That's enough for now. Or, more accurately, that's about as much as I can do without my nose running all over this keyboard. And even though I want to throw this keyboard across the room because it keeps double-typing C's and S's, I need to get a grip. And since I spent about 90% of the weekend in my apartment in a self-induced coma, I need to get outside. I think I'll run to Palid Poultry and get a pint of Chocolate Truffle Explosion--a well-known restorative for one's mind and body. (Yep, I'm gonna keep saying that till I believe it.) Later...
Well, to be fair to myself for a second--just for a second--I'm not a total loser: I've had a cold off and on, mostly on, since the last update and feel, as I type this, like my head and chest are packed with soggy newspaper. (Not even a classy newspaper like The New York Times or The Wall Street Journal, but something trashy like The Weekly World News or The Sun-Times.) And I'm on vacation from work this week, so I'll be able to get some writing and photography done...just as soon as my nose stops running.
So while I marvel at just how much fluid one's sinuses can hold, here are some brief updates and announcements:
Requiem for a Lioness
The vibe of Mom's living room was wrong. And as I pulled off my coat and looked from one couch to the other, I figured out why: Kiki was nowhere to be found. In that moment, I knew. But I let Mom give me the news in her own time. "I had to have Kiki put down," she said quietly. "She couldn't walk anymore." So despite a migraine (something Mom gets once or twice a month), Mom bundled up Kiki, carried her to the vet and did what needed to be done. It's not an easy thing to do--I've only had to do it twice in my life, and that's two more times than I ever wanted to--but as hard and sad as having a beloved pet put to sleep is, it's better than letting the animal suffer. So bye, Kiki. I'll miss you shedding at will on my black slacks and throwing yourself at the front door when I came in and bitching me out when I wouldn't let you dash out into the darkness. I'll just plain miss you. Damn.
From the "Less Said, the Better" Department
In the e-mail for my last update, I said I would be writing about Valentine's Day this time. But I've changed my mind since then. What do I have to say about it, really? Nothing good. And is it a coincidence that I'm taking my week of vacation now? No, it is not. Maybe next year, I'll have a reason to talk about V-Day or post some poetry or do something more than this. But this year, I just don't feel like wasting the time or energy. (Gee, do I seem just a little bitter?)
No, I Don't Have an Upholstered Balcony. Why Do You Ask?
Also in my last e-mail, I mentioned "an announcement of some interest" or something equally enigmatic. Well, here it is: Starting next week, I'll be posting movie reviews on Adoresixtyfour.com. They'll be a mixed bag of movies currently in release, classics of the silver screen and wastes of film stock. And truth be told, I'll probably update the Movie Reviews page more often than I will the Home page. So tune in next week and let me know what you think.
Okay. That's enough for now. Or, more accurately, that's about as much as I can do without my nose running all over this keyboard. And even though I want to throw this keyboard across the room because it keeps double-typing C's and S's, I need to get a grip. And since I spent about 90% of the weekend in my apartment in a self-induced coma, I need to get outside. I think I'll run to Palid Poultry and get a pint of Chocolate Truffle Explosion--a well-known restorative for one's mind and body. (Yep, I'm gonna keep saying that till I believe it.) Later...
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