the Cabaret Aubergine

Olive, originally uploaded by TobiasS.

Hi, everyone. If you're around this weekend, please come out on Sunday to hear my band, the Eggplant Casino, play at the first ever Cabaret Aubergine at Amnesia!

Incredibly wonderful performances by -

• Shain Corosco on the cello with members of Classical Revolution
• Chris Libby doling out the comedy
• jazz loveliness by Brian Rodvian & Friends
• other miscellany including dancing & singing
• and let's not forget the soothing sounds of the Eggplant Casino, who will play a full and complete set for your enjoyment.

The good times start at 8pm, with a nominal charge of $7.
Amnesia is at 853 Valencia Street between 19th and 20th (right close to 16th and 24th Street Bart Stations)

Hope to see you there!

Pip the Bunny

People, this drops my jaw. A very bad dog ironically named Lassie killed all but one of a family of bunnies. So what did Lassie's people do? Adopt the baby that lived, naming her Pip, bottle feeding her and loving her like their own. It warms my little heart, I tells ya. Follow Pip's progress here.

the In-Control Girls

Thanks to Emilia for pointing the way to this little gem:




Just for the record, these people are like family to me. Srsly.

Homage to Star Wars: But Basketball's a Peaceful Planet!

What makes teh internets great? This, made by someone who really understands timing and editing.




I got this from Timmmii, who got it from BoingBoing, which means yes, you've already seen it. I don't care. Watch it again. Its good for you.




Cheap and awesome, just like I like it.


Drunk Jedi Trailer Trash - Watch more free videos


And lastly, one of the few yet significant reasons why YouTube isn't totally useless, it contains bona fide classics from back in the day like this.



&

This is the Greatest Photo Ever

The awesomeness is overwhelming. I highly recommend the Muppet Wiki.

My Birthday Wish List

Preamble: It was actually my birthday a few days ago, but my schedule's completely full for the next few weeks, so I'm postponing it indefinitely. This means I'm also still 32 until further notice.


1. A new bicycle!
I'm 5'6" and have a rather long torso and little legs. I ride on streets, and I like breaks and gears, and by that I mean breaks on both wheels and at least three gears. Furthermore, I think riding without breaks and just one gear is dumb, just like wearing painfully high heels is dumb. So says I.

Anyway, the point is, I have a 3-speed, gear-hubbed, vintage cruiser that I utterly adore, but its too heavy to lift and carry, plus its so sexy that I get nervous leaving it locked up anywhere for fear it will be nabbed. So, I'd love something similar but lighter and scrappier. I already have a Caddy, now I need a Honda, you know. Like this. A 5-speed would do nicely.

2. A Love Sack or similar beany bagish piece of furniture.
I'm so not into the swirly-fuzzy-psychedelic-raver-burner fabrics that cover many Love Sacks. There, I said it. I mean, its not like it doesn't work for some people, but its just not what I want in my house. Get yourself a swirly-fuzzy-psychedelic-raver-burner Love Sack and I'll come over and fall asleep in it any day. But for my birthday, I'd like one that's a solid color - red, orange, mossy green, gray; you know, the good colors - or a tasteful stripe in bright colors, or even a very graphic floral. Which is to say, not this.

3. A back pack for camping.
I'm very slightly built up top, so small or extra small is the size range. I'm going to say 3-day size would do nicely. Oh, and a pump-style water filter, too.

4. A really tiny baby bunny.
This is the same as me asking for a pony. Probably a bad idea to actually get me a live animal, but it would be so cute.

5. A Pip and Leaf shirt.
I'm doing this, like, project this year: I'm only buying used clothing, nothing new ('cept socks and undies). But, of course, if someone was to get me a new Pip shirt as a present, I'd accept.

6. All black with non-pastel stripes Adidas Superstar
If I wanted pink, I'd be in business, but for the love of everything holy, why oh why can't I find a Superstar (or shell-toed knock-off) in my dainty size? Size 5.5 - 6.5, or guy's 2.5 - 3.5. Do all small-footed women want to look like they stepped in sherbet?

About the above photo: it has nothing to do with my wants, but its so awesome, and came from here.

My Calendar is Full.

May is a busy month! Check this out:

Next week, on Tuesday, May 6, my band, the Eggplant Casino, is playing as part of the SF International Film Festival. There's going to be several short films, some live performances from Eggplant and others, and the piece de resistance, the public premier of Evolution: the Musical, which is a short film I helped produce, and make a very brief appearance in. I'm super excited about this show, and would love to see you all there.

Tickets are available here (through a somewhat confusing process).

More information about the screening here.

And of course this.

The following week, Beowulf: a Thousand Years of Baggage opens at the Ashby Stage in Berkeley. I'm not in the show, but I did design the props, including Grendels hideous arm, which some of you have seen, and also I gave one of the actors a mullet haircut, so come out to see that at least. Its an amazing and haunting show which I highly recommend. Previews are on Wednesday and Thursday May 14 and 15, opening night is Friday, May 16, and the show runs Thursday through Sunday through June 15. Tickets, show times and the like are here.

Also on Friday, May 16, the Eggplant Casino will be playing at another film event, KML Gets Reel. Its an evening of short comedy films (including Evolution) from the venerable and uproarious sketch comedy group Killing My Lobster. We'll be playing interstitial music, as well as a short-ish set before the films. And, as a testament to the closed-loop that is the theater world, you will see a lot of the same folks in and at all three of these events. Ah, theater.

Lastly, the Eggplant Casino will be playing at yet another film event, but this one has nothing to do with those other two. We're scoring an evening of silent films in Mendocino! F-U-N. I don't have much info about this event yet, other than, like, where the band is sleeping and what time we're setting up and that kind of thing. If you're interested, though, let me know, and I'll keep you posted.

Isn't there an episode of the Simpsons...

IMG_3855.JPG, originally uploaded by waltzesandmarzipan.

... in which Bart and Lisa discover the mafia is selling rat milk to the school, and Principal Skinner says "You promised me cat or better!"

Thank you, Karen (who is in England) for introducing us to this wrong substance.

An Awesome Weekend Gone Too Soon

The bridge as seen from Kirby Cove, originally uploaded by gregveen.

Damn fine weekend it was. Why does there have to be a Monday? I don't mind working, but maybe we could skip directly back to Friday again?

1. Friday Night: Kirby Cove
Ha! Amazing. Just west of the Golden Gate Bridge on the Marin side is Kirby Cove. For those of you busily doing east/west calculations, that means past the bridge toward the Pacific Ocean. Kirby Cove has a little beach with a sloping wood behind it. Some jerks during WW2 build bunkers there, but now they're ruined and mysterious but fun, half horror movie and half playground.

The view is epic - a little bit of the sea, a little bit of the bay, a long stretch of San Francisco, the swift and narrow Golden Gate Channel, and the huge bridge. Best of all, the night was perfectly warm and clear, so we sat on the beach or by the fire until we just couldn't stay awake any more, then slept out under the stars on the edge of a cliff and woke to the view. And mimosas! We had to leave at noon on Saturday, but I could have stayed for days and days.

2. Saturday Afternoon: Naps
As soon as the sky got light on Saturday morning, I awoke and couldn't fully get back to sleep. I didn't want to miss anything. I kept opening one eye and looking out at the view. Meanwhile, Greg's allergies came on like a flash flood. He hadn't slept a whole lot either, and between the sleeplessness, tenacious allergy symptoms, and the narcotic effects of antihistamines, he was out like a light as soon as we got back to my house. It looked too good to pass up, so I laid down on my bed and fell asleep, too.

3. Saturday Night: Stayed Home and Cleaned My Room
Sometimes, you just have to stay the fuck home. Enough said.

4. Sunday Afternoon: Epic Bike Ride from the Mission to Ocean Beach and Back Again
It wasn't until after the ride that I realized some days I ride 10 miles to and from work, which is pretty much the same distance we rode on Sunday. No wonder I was able to keep up on this ride - I had practice!

First I went to church, which was awesome as always, then headed over to Mission Control for brunch. Since I was on the way-late side, I brought my bike with me on bart, so I wouldn't have to walk. When I got to brunch, a few folks were leaving for a bike ride. Fifteen minutes later, another few people left for a ride, and then another crew ten minutes later. The last crew managed to talk me into it - I mean, I had my bike with me, I might as well, right? - and it was then I discovered everyone was actually going on the same ride. Eventually, after much rendezvous-ing, there were I think nine of us on the ride. We were a bike gang! Unfortunately, as I didn't plan ahead for said ride, I was the one in the mini-skirt and sandals. Because, people, it was hot on Sunday. Hot, I say. But, had I known I'd be peddling all over town and back again, I'd have worn pants or shorts and shoes. At least I was wearing exceptionally modest undies (as always).

Greg, meanwhile, was at home doing his taxes and sniffling. I really wanted to make him join us, but I knew he'd be miserable riding through the pollen cloud that was Golden Gate Park. Sorry, Greg.

5. Unrelated: Brick!
The weekend before, Greg, K-dub and I watched my new favorite movie, Brick. People, for real, such a great film. I'd heard a ton about it on NPR when it first debuted at Sundance a few years back, and Tim and Tina both really liked it and suggested I see it, but then it sort of fell off my radar. Fortunately it got back on my radar. Hooray radar!

Anyway, that's neither here nor there. The point is, this film! The script, the acting, the costumes, the editing! Its a film noir set in and around a high school, and almost every character is a teen age kid. Its contrived, but executed flawlessly; one of the most important pieces of knowledge I learned in art school was this: in art, its okay for us to make our own universe, but we have to be consistent within our universe. So goes the universe of Brick.

And why not a high school noir? The archetypes fit perfectly - the moody loaner hero, the fallen, tainted ingenue, the dangerous femme fatal, the slimy cad, the sinister master-mind, the ham-handed thug, and the gritty, ruthless cop - in this case, the vice principal. It fits together so snuggly, one wonders why no one every did it before. The film plays the gender roles like a violin, too, comments on traditional film gender roles without ever having to even say anything.

I'm not going to tell you a damn thing about the story, though. I don't want to give anything away. Every detail counts in a good noir, and nothing extra is included, so to tell you anything is to tell you too much. That said, when listening to all those gushing NPR reviews, they couldn't help but give away the four clues, which are four words, and I'm going to give them to you, too: Brick, Tug, Frisco and Pin. Go watch it and see what it all means. Yay!

Addendum: WTF?

Just for a little light post-blogging, pre-bed time viewing I did a search for pandas, because who doesn't want to go into a Nyquil fueled coma with visions of pandas dancing in her head, but why oh why did this appear?

Sick in Greg's Bed

For anyone following me on Twitter, you most like already know the short version: I have a cold, and am resting it off in Greg's bed. The long version is, its my own damn fault. Like, really. I burned it at both ends this weekend, as in the Saturday end and the Sunday end, and clearly staying up all night and all day was the final blow to my immune system.

So. So now I feel like ass. I had a rehearsal for Eggplant Casino last night, which mostly went well, but its hard to say because I'm pretty sure I was running a fever. We have a show on Sunday night at the House of Love Cabaret (corner of Fulton and Lyon in San Francisco, its going to be packed, packed I say, well past capacity) and I didn't want to miss the last rehearsal before the show, so with hot toddy by my side I hacked my way through. No, it was good, it was. I tried not to talk or sing, but I did tap dance like a maniac, which maybe wasn't so good. I dunno...

The Nyquil is starting to kick back in, so forgive me if I ramble.

Anyway, the point is, I went to rehearsal instead of sleeping, and though I tried to take it easy, there's only so easy you can take it from the Eggplant Casino. I got to Greg's house and wasn't much good company, I can tell you that. I guzzled Nyquil and showered and passed out. No, stop, back track: when I first got here, I sent out some emails to work-folks - I guess those would be PROFESSIONAL EMAILS - saying I wouldn't be in today. No matter how bad I feel calling in sick still feels like getting away with something.

ANYWAY, THE POINT IS THIS: Knowing full well there was no way I'd be getting far from a bed today, I still had this thought, in the back of my mind, at least while I'm sick in bed I'll have time to get some writing done. Never mind that my attempt at writing is turning out LIKE THIS! If you're still reading, I commend you. But I've been doing a lot of writing and most of it is good. Not here and now, obviously, but in my notebook, like actual writing, with a pen, and I've been doing it in whatever spare minutes I can patch together. So, a lot of it is done right before bed and while riding on public transpoo. That's a new word.

Okay, the Nyquil has won. I give up. The end.

ps. I did an image search for Nyquil and that's what I found. Eek.

Notes

1. Dad's making more kimchi, so help is on its way. I finished off the jar last week, after some rationing. The last inch or so was especially spicy, as it was soaking in all the juice that had dripped down from the top. The last half inch was a regular Spice Challenge, very difficult to eat because of the heat, but I was successful, as always.

2. I've had my time, energy and mind way too into work lately, and I've had enough of it. I made a pact with myself only to stay there 9 hours a day. I was there 9-and-a-half, 8-and-a-half, 10, and 9-and-a-half so far this week. Yeah, room for improvement. But, I am supposed to be at work right now but am still at my house, so there you go.

3. As of last night, I'm obsessed with the song So Real by Jeff Buckley. I started singing it spontaneously on my bike ride home last night, got it playing on the itunes when I got in, and am listening to it for the, eh, 10th time right now? Its the perfect song; how did I never become obsessed with it before? I've noted before that I need to spend more time with Jeff Buckley, so maybe now its happening. His supernatural wails alone are worth the price of admission. I have a bootleg of him covering the Smith's The Boy with the Thorn in his Side that puts a tear in my eye. And another tear because we only got two records from him before he died.

A Public Plea

Dear Dad,
I'm running out of kimchi. Please help.
Thanks,
Sig

(So, like, my dad makes this awesome kimchi. He brought me a jar when he came up for the Chinese New Years Parade last weekend, and I've eaten roughly half already. 500 milliliters I've eaten.

Whoa, that just turned all Yoda for a second. Half a liter of kimchi I've eaten, and more I will soon need. I get big eating food of this kind.

You knew there had to be something about a movie in here somewhere: last night, Greg and I watched Revenge of the Sith. I'm slowly watching all six Star Wars, even the bad ones, in story order. Its going to be a great relief watching A New Hope, but then a little bit of a let down again watching Jedi after Empire. Maybe I should be watching them in order from worst to best: Attack of the Clones, Phantom Menace, Revenge of the Sith, Return of the Jedi, A New Hope, Empire Strikes Back. Do you feel me? Dare to battle me if you disagree.

But anyway, I digress. This is about daddy-o's kimchi. Pretty fly for a white guy, I must say. My nose is running because it's spicy, and yeah, I'm eating while I type. When I got home tonight I just, like, got inspired: I busted out the kimchi, then turned on the KCSM and put the computer on the bed, all while holding the jar, and now I'm sitting cross legged on my bed eating and typing. The jar is right here next to me. If it tips over and spills, I will be so fucked. There's no way I'll get the juice out of my matress. I'll have to get a new bed, and a new jar of kimchi.)

Chapter 2 Addendum

A photo from Caterina.




Thanks, c!

It's Like Proust In One Volume

Preface/Confession
The only thing I really know about Proust is he wrote a really, really, really long book.

Introduction
I have so much I want to write, but will try to be sparing. I'm sure Proust, at times, felt the same way.

Tonight I attended Practical Mysticism class at church, then came home, put some laundry in the dryer, made myself a rootbeer float, turned on the Jose Gonzalez, put on my new (to me) pink velour track suit, and am now indulging my urge to do this bloggy thing. What is this weird urge? Its like a cross between the urge to gossip and the urge to write. Regardless, here it is.

Speaking of "cross between", I've decided Jose Gonzales is a cross between Cat Stevens and Nick Drake. Feel it.

Chapter 1: Switzerland
I went there. Did you know this? Its true! Greg was going for work and I got jealous, so I went, too.

So, how was Switzerland? Well, the short answer is, Switzerland is so consistently clean and nice it makes the rest of the world look totally trashy. I spent an afternoon in Franfurt, Germany on my way back home, and after Switzerland it felt like a third-world country. But, the Germans make the Swiss look like assholes. It was nice to see people smile again. So there you go.

Here is a picture of Switzerland:



Yes, that's the Matterhorn, and excuse my French, but we snow-shoed the fuck out of that mountain. All mountains are beautiful, but I gotta say, the Matterhorn has some crazy enchantment thing going on - not like pixies and unicorns, but like it was hard for me to take my eyes off of it. You can't tell much from the photo, but its big, too, over 14,000 feet.

Chapter 2: Dots vs. Stripes vs. Spandex
About five minutes after I got home from Europe, we had a party at my house. It was a big party and everyone had fun. The next day, the house smelled like a bar - stale and close and vaguely pukey. Did someone puke? No? Then why the smell?

Chapter 3: Tahoe
More snow! But this time, on cross country skis, and in California, and on notably shorter mountains. The highlight was not the skiing, but the butt sledding. Just imagine sledding, but then take away the sled. Yep, that was us, sliding down a hill on our asses. Thank god for snow pants.

Chapter 4: Pinback
I can't believe I've been keeping this blog for over three months and this is the first time I've mentioned Pinback. Yee olde blog was rife with Pinback gushing.

Greg and I saw them a few months ago at Bimbos. It was my first time - eek! They were playing two nights there, and we went to the first. The show started off a bit slow, low energy, not terribly engaging - you know, indie rock. But then, I don't know, its like something just happened, some kind of mope-to-awesomeness transmogrification that left me feeling buzzed the whole next day, so much so that I was ready to go back to Bimbos and stand around outside the sold-out show trying to score another ticket.

So, then just over a week ago they were playing a show at the Fillmore, so of course, OF COURSE we had to go (well, I did, anyway, and Greg came too because he's cool like that). mc chris warmed up the crowd like something fierce. He is perfectly constructed out parts stupid, charming, funny, magical, and repugnant.

Then Pinback comes on, but their sound was so bad, so horribly bad. What the fuck, brodogs, why? Why the sound like the bass and drums were being bumped way too loud out of some hoopty in front of the building? The over-driven, swampy, deafening low-end covered the band, so much so that a few times I knew Rob Crow was singing but couldn't actually hear his voice. We moved all over the room trying to find a sweet spot, but only found a sort of mildly salty spot, way back by the sound guy. Whom I wanted to smack.

Chapter 5: Traffic
Why do people love drug war movies? Its not like people don't love drugs. Marijuana is one of the United States a-number-one cash crops, and yet, people love the fuck out of drug war movies.

Traffic? No exception, plus its got this inexcusably racist, "lock up your white daughters" thing going near the end. Deplorable. But, Traffic does have a few things other bad drug war movies don't have. Namely, Benicio Del Toro and Don Cheadle. Plus Traffic has some slick editing and neat filmy tricks. It would be great if the damn script wasn't so hideously cliche.

Chapter 6: Dead Man
On the other hand, there's Dead Man, the film writer/director Jim Jarmusch called a psychedelic western. SO GOOD! I've read that a lot of critics didn't like this film, but clearly they were the same chumps who thought Traffic was brilliant. Sometimes Johnny Depp's acting feels like he's just sort of screwing around, but not so in Dead Man. He's looooovely in this, as is Gary Farmer.

And now you're asking yourself, who's Gary Farmer? I kept watching and asking myself the same thing, so I looked on IMDB and realized, "oh, him, he's been in everything." But in Dead Man he is fully immersed in his character Nobody, so it doesn't matter what he's been in before, because he's in Dead Man to win. Neil Young's sparse, psychedelic soundtrack is the trippy cherry on top. And also, Iggy Pop in a dress and bonnet.

Chapter 7: Pinback Gets Another Chance
Despite the bad sound at the Fillmore, I decided to give Pinback another go when they came around again a week later. Why a band would flagellate itself with a tour schedule like that I don't know, but hey, if that's what they're into its fine with me. The show was at the Bear's Lair, a bar on the Cal campus serving beer by the yard. This is a tremendously off-putting fact, and I was worried the audience would consist of frat boys drunk on miles of beer, but, well, I won tickets. So, with Greg by my side, we went.

The venue was like a grade school cafeteria. Technically, it was a university cafeteria, but it felt far more quaint. Mr. Crow remarked on this upon taking the stage: "Hi, welcome to lunch period. Its Friday. We're the Purple Squirrels and we'll be playing some songs while you eat your lunch." Poor Mr. Armistead Burwell Smith IV looked all pale and weak, and Mr. Crow mentioned he was sick and would be going to the nurses office after lunch so his mom could pick him up.

Despite the unfortunate circumstances, Pinback rocked the house. Or the cafeteria, whatever. Anyway, shitty venue, but way better show than the Fillmore. Go figure.

well, I'll be a monkey's uncle

Looks like Clinton took California after all. I thought Obama was going to sweep it, too. Of course, I was surprised when we ended up with Schwarzenegger as our governor. Shows what I know.

Super Fat Tuesday

Mardi Gras!, originally uploaded by bcostin.

Today is Fat Tuesday; Alisa Clancy is playing nothing but New Orleans-flavor jazz on KCSM. Here's a song called "Stoned, Drunk and Naked", with a lyric "I know she ain't no hooker, but I know she ain't cheap". Ahem.

But more importantly, its also Super Tuesday. As soon as I get my clothes on, I'm out the door to my polling place to cast my ballot for our next president, who will, at long last, be a Democrat.

Obama fever has hit all my friends. He is the next great thing, the new hope, the contender, almost messiah-like. Deep in my heart, though, I have to admit, I got a torch for Hillary. I kept trying to rationalize it: she has more experience, she's tough, she's already been through tons of controversy and is not only still standing but coming back for more. She's smart and respectable and knows how to play hard. Blah blah blah, you know what, I'm willing to admit, finally, on the deciding day, that the real reason I have an unshakable Hillary love is because she's a lady, and he's a dude, and I'm so fucking sick of dudes in the White House. I don't care of he's black, he's still A MAN. Can we get a woman in there, please? We've done the guy thing, our whole fucking history as a country we've done the guy thing. I want a woman in the White House. Being born in the '70's - raised on Sesame Street and Wonder Woman and Free To Be You and Me - I was told I could be the first woman president, but even then I really expected we would have had a woman president by now. WTF? Fucking Pakistan has had a female leader, and yeah, I was enormously upset when she was assassinated.

I admit, our man Barak might just be the better choice. I mean, really, either would make a stunning president, but after all the Bushing we could really use a president who can speak without sounding like he's addressing a Dungeons and Dragons convention, and my god, Obama is a true orator in the classical sense. I might just vote for him today, its possible. But my heart belongs to Hillary.

(No, seriously, that Dungeons and Dragons link, you really should click, because its really, really good)

long gone!

short hair in the front, originally uploaded by sighafstrom.

I'm sorry, Lon, but it was time! Cut it myself, about three weeks ago. Yep. It was time.

but then!...

short hair in the back, originally uploaded by sighafstrom.

long

long long hair in the back, originally uploaded by sighafstrom.

but now its gone!

yep, there it is.

long hair in the front, originally uploaded by sighafstrom.

I Remember It Now

Lifeboat, that was the other movie I rented. It was Hitchcock's Lifeboat.

I've seen a bad Hitchcock movie; this is not it. This one is good. Its one of those movies only Hitchcock would dare make, in which all the action takes place in one confined location - in this case, in a small lifeboat in the middle of the endless Atlantic. It doesn't have much in the way of bells and whistles - no particularly nail-bitey scenes or wild, impossible camera tricks - but it doesn't need them. The action moves along quickly and you're never quite sure where the little boat will end up, or who will still be aboard. A trim, neat suspense classic from the master.

The Libertine was a fun little watch, nothing terribly moving, even with Johnny Depp as the lead. He sort of just Depps his way through the deplorable character John Wilmot, the 2nd Earl of Rochester. But, you know, deplorable characters are fun, and Johnny Depp is hot, and there are costumes a plenty. Its one of those filthy period pieces, where everyone has a disease and no one bathes and you can almost smell the piss oozing out of the mud. Worth seeing for the wigs.

Hot on the heals of the Libertine was Sweeney Todd, Demon Barber of Fleet Street. What a bleak story, and talk about deplorable. Here is a man who's so lost faith in humanity, he slits strangers' throats and then eats them (cooked into pies first, naturally). Delightful! But ugh, what a bloodbath! I watched half the film through my fingers. I actually kinda like the non-singer singing, though once the actual musical theater folks start laying it down, its pretty obvious Depp and Helen Bohnam Carter are vocally out of their league. I don't know the musical so well, but was glad the glorious Sondheim soundtrack stays - as far as I could tell - intact. Regardless, the costumes and pissy mud make the movie, so there you go.

Last Saturday, I took in three movies in one day. Let me tell you all about it (I know, I'm breaking the brevity rule... indulge me!) -

No Country For Old Men: Almost as bloody as Sweeney Todd, certainly as bleak, but not tempered by beautiful music and stunning gothery, so I left the theater feeling shocked and amazed. Tommy Lee Jones is absolutely impeccable; in fact, there's not a lick of bad acting in the whole picture, everyone really nails each moving character spot on. An enigmatic, brutal, atmospheric gem. As my friend Tim said, do not hesitate to see this film. Cohen Brothers, FTW.

Labyrinth!: Jesus, what a stupid movie. I love David Bowie, and I love Muppets, so why do I find this movie grating? Even when I was a kid, I found it trite. Its too sentimental, that's what it is. How about a genuine scare next time, Jim Henson? Oh, right, Dark Crystal. Okay, you're excused. (And we miss you!)

Y Tu Mama Tambien: Gael Garcia Bernal is the loveliest human being alive. God damn. Its not natural. And then put him in this smoking hot film about doing it, and forget about it. Okay, considering Greg's the only person who reads this, maybe I shouldn't be so gushy. But really, the guy's wonderful, the film's wonderful, everything and everyone in it is wonderful - which is exactly why, when you get to the end and realized the whole story's about loss, its such a punch in the gut: you can't have a true sense of loss unless you fully realize that everything lost is beautiful. In life, discovering this vicious fact is routine; in film, it takes a bit more effort. This film puts out the effort and the rewards are sorrowfully successful. There's a reason everyone goes on about how good it is.

Rain!

And wind! The sky is so dark. I just went outside for a moment to check on my plants, and by gum, I got drenched.

The only thing to do, other than go to the office (heh) is to watch movies. Hooray!

I watched the Phantom Menace and Contempt, and they were both terrible. Phantom Menace is bad for so many reasons, I won't even bother to go into it. That crazy lightsaber battle at the end, with Darth Maul (or is it Darth Mall) and the Jedis, that's good stuff. I could watch that all day. There's only one space battle, though, and its weak. Anyway, I won't go into it.

Contempt is bad because its stupid. I mean, its about this couple, and the guy's a jerk, and the wife gets angry at him because of his jerkiness, which is all good an well, but then she mopes around and won't defend herself or explain herself and just acts like a total weirdo. It seems likes Godard, the filmmaker, he just didn't understand women, but believed its because women are totally un-understandable. Its not that he's confused, its that women are confusing.

So then, there was the Libertine and... oh crap, what else did I get? Uh. If you can remember the other DVD I watched this week, remind me, and you'll win a prize.