elkit in wonderland

I Smell Sex And Candy

So I went and saw Hard Candy yesterday ... and I don't really know what to tell you. I liked the setup. The trailer already implied that the seemingly innocent teenager would turn the tables on the thirtysomething guy she met over the intarwebs. I was curious to see how it would play out, and to find out whether the girl's performance merited all the great reviews she's been getting. She really was good. But, disappointingly, the movies falls right into the bucket of complaints I've had lately - interesting premise, deteriorating into ever more unlikely scenarios, and plot twists just for plot twists' sake. Just another one of those scripts that got sold on its elevator pitcch, and just another story that does not reflect anything anywhere near real life. Bummer. I wanted to like it, but I was disappointed. Good thing I only wasted five bucks on it because I have a discount card.

Lost In Time, and Lost In Space ... And In Meaning

Couldn't be bothered to answer the Unconscious Mutterings last night, so here I am, on a fine sunny Sunday morning:

• Out of place :: misfit
• Helicopter :: Apocalypse Now and The Ride of the Valkyries
• Francis :: Coppola
• Ryan :: O'Neal
• Wedding :: bridal gown
• Apalled :: at the government
• Historian :: revisionist
• Powerful :: abuse
• Sex symbol :: Marilyn Monroe
• Uncomfortable :: squirming

You Want Candy, Baby - Hard, Sweet, and Sticky

I'm going to run off in a bit to see Hard Candy, but first, I will listen to my three "candy" songs. Wha? Candy songs?

I searched my iTunes library for songs with the word "candy" in the title, and came up with these:
• Bruce Springsteen, Candy's Room
• Marcy Playground, Sex and Candy
• and last but not least: Montrose, Rock Candy, which always reminds me of the Cat in the Hat singing this at jam night at O'Shea's ... you just had to be there. It's long razed, just an empty lot surrounded by a chainlink fence now. That was back in the day, when Enda and I shared the condo on Lakebird, and Highway 85 was still under construction, and we'd take San Tomas Expressway to work.

Day In The Sun

The sun has been out for the last couple of days, and it's finally seasonably warm spring weather, after a wet March and equally wet first half of April. The lawn just got mowed on Tuesday, and already the grass is high enough to hide several small elephants. I think I may be able to plant the tomatoes this weekend. But that'll wait until tomorrow, methinks ... my energy level is close to zero. I shall attempt to raise it with a dose of caffeine and a walk around the block. Let's see if that helps.

Wish I Was Too Dead To Care (16/52)

Talking with the Brave New Bitch about stories, and I am complaining once again - such a curmudgeon lately; I really am turning into my father - complaining about the lack of storytelling skill in so many moviemakers and novelists. I just finished another novel that I enjoyed until the end, where the lack of plausible tie-up disappointed me muchly. Still, you might like it, not being as fickle as I am. Check out The Geographer's Library by Jon Fasman. Or John Fasman. I was actually quite offended to find that the publisher had printed the author's first name as "Jon" on the front, and "John" on the spine. Or vice versa. (Like I said, I am turning into my father. One of my most consistent memories of him is him reading the paper over breakfast - he was a journalist for a local daily - and getting all worked up at sloppy writing, shoddy research, and the decline of a proper work ethic overall.)

But back to the Geographer's Library. It's a murder mystery with history and occult bits thrown in. (No, I don't know if that is like the Da Vinci Code. I am the only person left on this planet who has not read the Da Vinci Code. And at this point, I'm just going to wait for the movie. Audrey Tautou, Jean Reno, Sir Ian McKellen AND Jürgen Prochnow? Hell yeah, sign me up!)

But back to the Geographer's Library. I enjoyed all the fake history, and how the narratives alternated, but ultimately, I didn't buy it. If you were leading a life of secrets and international travel, would you hire on as a university professor? With all the oddities of that character, you don't think that people would start talking? I hate it when the premise is so sloppily set up, and for that reason, I thought of Michael Crichton's book on the sexual harassment suit. You know, the one that was made into a movie with Michael Douglas as the guy unjustly accused, and Demi Moore as the offender on her way up the corporate ladder. (Disclosure? Is that what it was called? I can't be bothered to look it up right now.) I had the same complaint then: if you were trying to get a guy fired, would you want your replacement involved in allegations of misconduct?

See. I didn't think so. It was beyond unlikely. Preposterous, really.

But back to the Geographer's Library. Points for smooth writing and good pacing. But points deducted for the preposterous premise.

Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me, When I'm Sixty-Four?

Haven't blogged much this week, I know. Haven't done much of anything, actually. I have caught another cold - or rather, the way this feels like, it's the same cold I've had since, what, October? It keeps pretending to go away, but I think it just goes into hiding, and comes back as soon as my defenses are down. I switched to a set of turbo meds, and am feeling marginally better, but I still can't stop clearing my throat every thirteen seconds, and my left ear has gone offline again. As I leaned towards the bathroom mirror this morning to apply my eye liner, I coughed, and my lower back took this opportunity to seize up, which is why I am sitting in bed with a heating pad. What am I, a hundred and twelve?

It's a Gas, Gas, Gas

My very good friend Ricky is surprised he has to explain this to us all:

... when gasoline doubles in price, in America, under the oil industry friendly Bush administration, gee, guess what? The cost of your morning commute doesn't just double. The cost of the radishes in your fridge goes up. The cost of your Che Guevera berets goes up. The cost of your spray paint, with which you spend most of your time coating freeway underpasses with "Bush Lied, Soldiers Died", goes up.

Welcome To The Gold Rush, Wait Till After Dark

Another Sunday, another set of Unconscious Mutterings, quick, before I run off:

• Rising :: Flour
• Third :: Man
• Disruptive :: Obnoxious
• Surround :: Sound
• Distant :: Thunder
• Suction :: Cup
• Fried :: Green Tomatoes
• Nuggets :: Gold Rush
• Clip :: Art
• San Antonio :: Texas

We Like Bananas Because They Have No Bones

banana
Originally uploaded by Melmoth the Wanderer.

Mr. Banana has a great smirk on his face. I am madly in love with him.

I'm A Barbie Girl In A Barbie World

Third Wednesday of the month, which means meeting my blogger friends at the Cupertino Coffee Society.

Most of the regulars were there: Rich, Silvia, Hank, David, Jon, Ealasaid, Antwon, and Kevin, as well as a new face, Charlie.

Rich took notes - he's been our unofficial secretary lately, we ought to give him the title and appoint him - and lots of pictures were taken, most of which will probably show up in our flickr group.

I just want to mention the Glow-in-the-Dark Fudge Skipper we discussed in detail.
Excuse me now while I upload my pictures.