Random
Our Urban Nature Walk yesterday was great. We walked around Jamaica Pond, and despite a dearth of binoculars, saw and discussed a dozen or so bird species, including one I'd never seen before (and without binoculars I originally IDed as a cedar waxwing). The white squirrel made an appearance, and one of the new participants identified a hedge as American bittersweet, a plant I knew existed but hadn't experienced. Naturally, Alexis took a bunch of great pictures, and if you haven't seen them yet, what's wrong with you? I mean, here they are. The same new participant told us of the burry man, a tradition I think we need to start up in the States.
We saw Grindhouse: Planet Terror this weekend. I enjoyed it, but I have a secret to confess: I'm tired of zombies. Yes, it's true. I think after Black Sheep I reached my limit, and yet I still have about 50 zombie movies in my Netflix queue. 28 Weeks Later and Fido are coming up soon, and I'm really looking forward to them, but after that I have to take a zombie break. Anyway, Planet Terror was generally well made, had some scary parts in the beginning, had a LOT of splatter gore effects (side note: I'm a very squeamish movie goer--I find convincing scenes of someone in pain very hard to take--but zombie movie gore doesn't gross me out for some reason) with squib packs that seemed to have a quart of goo in each burst. The cgi effects were mostly well-hidden. It just kind of goes on and on after a while (I don't know if this is a problem with Planet Terror or a symptom of my greater zombie fatigue) and wore out its welcome with me.
The guy behind BBT requested that I review Marquis, a movie co-written by the artistic designer behind Fantastic Planet which seems to be about the Marquis de Sade in prison having conversations with his penis, which is an animated character in the film. It hasn't been released on dvd yet, and out-of-print vhs copies cost between 15 and 60 dollars. If anyone has a copy they'd like to lend me, that would be most convenient. At this point, however, I think I need to watch something unfreaky to recombobulate myself a bit.
Last night was the first in many where I had vivid dreams that were NOT work anxiety dreams, at least not obviously. I've put more subconscious time into that than any other I've had. I should punch in when I go into REM sleep.
I vow every year to do no shopping of any kind between Thanksgiving and New Years to avoid the horror of the holidays, especially pumped in musical dreck, and every year I have to buy groceries and other stuff. The bell-ringer in front of my supermarket managed to clang her clanger in a slightly less annoying way than usual. Or maybe I'm mellowing out with age. I'll try not to rain on everyone's glitter-coated poinsettia parade, but I have some advice: RELAX. Don't work yourselves up into a yuletide frenzy, you Santa-ists. It happens every year, it's all festivities and ugly sweaters and singing ornaments and eggnog and forced cheer and meeting with friends and loved ones and blinking lights and human sacrifice claymation and cinnamon and menorahs and dreidels and wrapping paper and bows and awkward parties at work and dancing around explicit religious references at school and construction paper stars and butter cookies and BAM it's January and you're stuck with 2 to 5 more months of dark and cold and sleet and no public festivals except the Superbowl and Valentines Day. Except for you Australians. Do they have "the holidays" in Australia? And if so, WHY? Do you import Norway Spruces and spray them with artificial snow? Does Santa arrive wearing surfing shorts? Do you roast kangaroo nuts on an open fire? I digress. (I love you Australians, and I'm jealous of your upside-down seasons.) All I mean is, if you celebrate some kind of late December thing, don't burn yourself out, don't take it too seriously, despite what Old Navy and the diamond merchants (oh yeah, a 5000 dollar rock is a good gift) and the santa-hatted androids on TV would have you think, IT'S NOT VERY IMPORTANT. Some people don't celebrate any kind of holiday in December. Maybe I'll watch more zombie movies.
We saw Grindhouse: Planet Terror this weekend. I enjoyed it, but I have a secret to confess: I'm tired of zombies. Yes, it's true. I think after Black Sheep I reached my limit, and yet I still have about 50 zombie movies in my Netflix queue. 28 Weeks Later and Fido are coming up soon, and I'm really looking forward to them, but after that I have to take a zombie break. Anyway, Planet Terror was generally well made, had some scary parts in the beginning, had a LOT of splatter gore effects (side note: I'm a very squeamish movie goer--I find convincing scenes of someone in pain very hard to take--but zombie movie gore doesn't gross me out for some reason) with squib packs that seemed to have a quart of goo in each burst. The cgi effects were mostly well-hidden. It just kind of goes on and on after a while (I don't know if this is a problem with Planet Terror or a symptom of my greater zombie fatigue) and wore out its welcome with me.
The guy behind BBT requested that I review Marquis, a movie co-written by the artistic designer behind Fantastic Planet which seems to be about the Marquis de Sade in prison having conversations with his penis, which is an animated character in the film. It hasn't been released on dvd yet, and out-of-print vhs copies cost between 15 and 60 dollars. If anyone has a copy they'd like to lend me, that would be most convenient. At this point, however, I think I need to watch something unfreaky to recombobulate myself a bit.
Last night was the first in many where I had vivid dreams that were NOT work anxiety dreams, at least not obviously. I've put more subconscious time into that than any other I've had. I should punch in when I go into REM sleep.
I vow every year to do no shopping of any kind between Thanksgiving and New Years to avoid the horror of the holidays, especially pumped in musical dreck, and every year I have to buy groceries and other stuff. The bell-ringer in front of my supermarket managed to clang her clanger in a slightly less annoying way than usual. Or maybe I'm mellowing out with age. I'll try not to rain on everyone's glitter-coated poinsettia parade, but I have some advice: RELAX. Don't work yourselves up into a yuletide frenzy, you Santa-ists. It happens every year, it's all festivities and ugly sweaters and singing ornaments and eggnog and forced cheer and meeting with friends and loved ones and blinking lights and human sacrifice claymation and cinnamon and menorahs and dreidels and wrapping paper and bows and awkward parties at work and dancing around explicit religious references at school and construction paper stars and butter cookies and BAM it's January and you're stuck with 2 to 5 more months of dark and cold and sleet and no public festivals except the Superbowl and Valentines Day. Except for you Australians. Do they have "the holidays" in Australia? And if so, WHY? Do you import Norway Spruces and spray them with artificial snow? Does Santa arrive wearing surfing shorts? Do you roast kangaroo nuts on an open fire? I digress. (I love you Australians, and I'm jealous of your upside-down seasons.) All I mean is, if you celebrate some kind of late December thing, don't burn yourself out, don't take it too seriously, despite what Old Navy and the diamond merchants (oh yeah, a 5000 dollar rock is a good gift) and the santa-hatted androids on TV would have you think, IT'S NOT VERY IMPORTANT. Some people don't celebrate any kind of holiday in December. Maybe I'll watch more zombie movies.