pilot leakage

I've been waiting for news about True Blood, because I really enjoy the book series upon which it is based.


And then today I read this on WordPress.

So I checked mininova for providers, and sure enough ... the search results.

I know what I'm doing when I get home.



I've quickly become a fan of the 57 bus. It's about ten minutes faster than the B line, which doesn't seem like very much, but can make the difference of a half hour of waiting at North Station.


Now watching the season finale of The Tudors. It's grim and kind of, well, anticlimactic. In spite of the fact that it's Jonathan Rhys-Meyers--I really hate Henry. But then, that's as it should be.



For the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, visit: masquedbunny.livejournal.com.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

telling me a story

My parents picked me up at the train station yesterday afternoon (the first sunny and non-torrentially-raining day in the week is the day they're there to give me a ride--of course). They're back from the Berkshires for a bit, as A Prairie Home Companion isn't until Saturday. Due to the thunderstorms that have been rolling through, they've been doing outlet shopping and scouting for furniture, and picked up a safe beige curtain for the door to the deck. The room is no longer on display--huzzah!

We went out to dinner at the Lyceum Bar and Grill, which was excellent and in walking distance of the apartment. Did an after-dinner walk around the Common, and then went back home again.

It was an afternoon for people telling me stories, by the way. My dad, who, on the way home, confessed to removing the door to the deck and hanging up a shower curtain to keep the rain out ... NO. And then the host at the restaurant. Big ol' story-tellers.

On a television note, The Riches can be embarrassing to watch with one's parents. I don't recommend it.



Commuting is coming easily. I always manage to get a seat, and I'm starting to recognise the usual suspects who share my schedule.

There is something weird though. Standing in North Station, one might suddenly see a herd of people rush out to a platform that hasn't been announced. I can't figure out how they know it's their train. Because the rest of us stand and watch the line-up for the track announcement, and by the time we get out there, there are already a hundred people on board. And there's no apparent rhyme or reason to the thing, as the track is almost never the same one as the day before.

Is there a secret society with a decoder watch that announces the track number ten minutes before it appears on the board?

Chalk it up on the list of things to find out, I suppose.



Hooray! My internet is being installed tomorrow! Time to get a wireless router.


For the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, visit: masquedbunny.livejournal.com.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

and kicking

My downstairs neighbors (at least, I think it was my downstairs neighbors, since I don't imagine anybody else could've come in the front door, and wandered upstairs) left me a welcoming present from their favourite neighborhood bakery--croissants and danishes and bread. I think they must have dropped it off some time on Sunday, but I didn't notice until I walked out the door this morning. I feel kind of bad about that for a few reasons. One, I don't know how well the goodies will be now when they're not fresh. Two, I still haven't seen my neighbors. And now three, I really ought to thank them, and wish I had done yesterday ...

Anyway, I put the box of baked goods in the fridge before I left, so I hope I didn't spoil them by letting them sit out there on the landing overnight. I'm putting my faith in the preservative properties of sugar.

Damn it. I'm already a bad neighbor, and I haven't even talked to anybody yet.

I was trying to get everything out of the cardboard boxes, and didn't leave the house at all. On one hand, good for productivity. On the other hand, it would've been nice to wander my new stomping grounds. Oh, well. There will certainly be time for that.


Saturday night discovery--the cable is still hooked up. On a whim, I plugged in the television just to see, and now I'm wishing I already owned a modem. Still... That will be installed on Friday.

Turned on AMC for a background--The Last Samurai and Alexander being heralded as "Future Classics," with which I take some umbrage--while unpacking and then having dinner.

I had intended to sleep in yesterday, and I had left my iPod in the Sound Dock overnight for a sense of familiarity. And then, at around 0830, I awoke to a strange blend of Lunasa coming from the speakers, and swinging big band music--coming from outside. Think more casual New Orleans big band, rather than rigid marching band, and you'll have a good idea of the sound. And it would've been irritating, except that it was actually quite good. So I opened more of the windows and the deck door to let the music breeze in and through the house.


Timed the walk from my door to the station. It's a little under ten minutes at a very leisurely pace. I left about fifteen minutes sooner than necessary for my 0627 train. I think I'm going to pick up a 12-trip pass for the remainder of the month this afternoon, just to save time.


It's raining now. I hope my leaving the windows open a few inches wasn't a mistake. Guess I'll find out when I get home ...

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

you'll get what you deserve

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

meme [in bed]

Tagged by Mel ...

List 10 fictional characters you wouldn't kick out of bed (in no particular order) and tag five people to do the same.

1. Jack Harkness -- John Barrowman might be gay, but his character is omni, and reported to be fabulous in bed.
2. The Tenth Doctor -- can come along with Jack (but we'll need a bigger bed).
3. James "Sawyer" Ford -- and yes ...
4. Strife -- bound to be kinky
5. Geoffrey Chaucer (ala A Knight's Tale, though technically a real--and very dead--person)
6. Mr. Darcy (the 1995 BBC version, please), though probably too proper to randomly show up in one's bed uninvited (or unmarried) *sigh*
7. George Emerson (of the 1985 film adaptation)
8. Don Juan DeMarco
9. Cupid (or practically any other Karl Urban character) -- I imagine the wings take up a lot of room, but hell if I care
10. Spike -- to finish with another borrow from Mel's list


No tagging from me. If you want to do the meme, do ...

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

name play

I rented Revengers Tragedy. This is the kind of thing they should make teenagers read if they want them to be at all interested in 17th Century literature. Granted, the kids will probably still go out and rent the movie if it's available to them; but at least they might find the story interesting.

The story begins as our protagonist Vindici returns home to finally take his revenge on the powerful Duke who poisoned Vindici's bride (and all the other guests) on their wedding day, because she would not give in to his lecherous advances. His first stop home is the catacombs, where he talks to his dead girl's skull, puppets around a bit, and shrieks at passing little old ladies. Beautifully begun ...

Here we have vengeance; lust, chastity, and loss of honour; keeping promises, whatever the cost; the game of ambition and succession; and incest.

The allegorical names put me in mind of Volpone, because almost all of the names are chosen specifically for their characters' primary nature.

Our hero Vindici (sometimes spelled Vendici) hellbent on vengeance.

The Duke's eldest son Lussurioso, primarly driven by his lustful nature. And for whom?

Castiza, Vindici's sister. Chastity is not her middle name--it's her first. And, surprise, she despises Lussurioso.

Vindici and Castiza's mother Gratiana wants to ingratiate herself and her daughter with Lussurioso for his future Dukedom.

The other sons of the Duke:
Spurio - He's a big liar.
Ambitioso should not require an explanation.
Supervacuo - Not just vacant--SUPERvacant.
and Junior - It's also fitting, because he follows after his father's habits.


I do recommend the film, so long as you don't mind 17th Century dialogue in a post-apocalyptic Liverpool setting. Christopher Eccleston, Eddie Izzard, and Derek Jacobi star.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

dishing Dracula

Dracula and The White River Kid were waiting for me when I got home yesterday. After calling to check on my dad's progress with returning from D.C., I grabbed my Chinese leftovers and popped in Dracula.

I can appreciate what Masterpiece Theatre was trying to do, mostly. They're trying to mix in some real medical concerns to explain why Harker would ever go to Transylvania. Vampires and syphilis. Ummm ... wow. Okay, so Lord Holmwood is engaged to Lucy Westerna, but he finds out his father is dying of syphilis, and that his mother committed suicide when she found out that she had caught it from the father and that Lord Holmwood was infected at birth. So, good fiance that he is, he tells Lucy and calls off their engagement, right?

Right?

Um, no. Let's contact this London blood cult and see if they can cure Lord Holmwood's terrible affliction. Ah, yes, we can do that--the the help of this guy in the Carpathian Mountains--and some money and property would be nice as well.

Well the cult can't contract a very large firm to deal with these matters. No, much too easy to track. So they contact a two-man operation, and this mini-firm sends the younger partner, Jonathan Harker (engaged to Lucy's friend Mina, by the way), to Transylvania to talk to their employer. And just after he leaves, the blood cult murders the other fifty percent of the firm.

This is where this version actually begins to resemble the Gary Oldman version. Harker arrives in the dark and magnificently damp and muddy Castle Dracula. Count Dracula appears to be a sick old man with very dirty fingernails. The fingernails never improve, actually; they're pretty gross for the full extent of the movie. He asks after England and its fade of religious belief, becomes enamored of Harker's folding picture-frame of Mina with a lock of her hair attached to the interior, and--after Harker discovers Dracula in his coffin covered in every kind of insect the crew could get their hands on--drains the trepid young lawyer.

Meanwhile, Holmwood and Lucy marry, but Holmwood won't consummate the relationship until he's cured, so they've gone north to live in a lonely castle on the edge of the ocean. Mina, ever more concerned about Harker from whom she's heard nothing since his arrival in Transylvania, goes to stay with them.

The blood cult, keeping tabs on Dracula's scheduled passage, hears that the ship by-passes London and continues up the coast toward Holmwood's estate. Not to seek out Holmwood, but because Dracula is on Mina's scent thanks to the lock of hair that Harker kept with him. The ship beaches itself below Holmwood's estate, but the crew has disappeared, and there's no sign of Dracula besides an inexplicable crate full of dirt.

Mina is wandering through the graveyard when she thinks she sees her Jonathan, and runs to him only to find--Count Dracula, who is looking much better after some steady and proper vamp nutrition. The sexually frustrated Lucy also appears, and, after her invitation (vampires and invitations), the Count accompanies them back to the estate for wine and sexy brooding.

Eventually Holmwood shows up in a temper, because Dracula isn't much interested in helping him with his condition, and is much more interested in, in his words, "enjoying" the ladies of the house. Holmwood becomes violent. Dracula is more violent--and informs Holmwood that he's going to take everything he loves.

As per the original, the sickness of blood loss visits Lucy while she sleeps. Difference--Masterpiece Theatre actually gets some brownie points, by the way--Lucy and Dracula both become less frustrated in the process. It's a lot more believably sensual than Oldman's bouffanted version, and a lot more sensual than I expect from Masterpiece Theatre. Good for them!

Lucy dies, of course, and the story and characters return to London. Mina is lonely. Her best friend is dead, and her fiance is presumed dead. Who else should show up to be a shoulder of comfort but our good Count Dracula?

I think my primary complaint is that the film spends a lot of time leading up to all of this with a reasonable explanation, but very little time is actually devoted to Holmwood, Seward, and Van Helsing hunting down Dracula. It all happens too quickly. Good lead-in, but it could've stood another half-hour of running time with more advantage taken of Marc Warren's youthful version of Dracula. But then I felt the same way about Gary Oldman's performance.

I did enjoy it. I think I'll keep the DVD until tomorrow. I think I'm also adding the first three series of Hustle to my Netflix queue. Hustle weirdness: Robert Vaughn. He does commercials for various law firms around the country, and definitely one here in Massachusetts. He was also Napoleon Solo and General Stockwell, but that was kind of a long time ago ...

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

The Landlord

OK--this might be old, but it still makes me laugh. It's early. I need a laugh.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

Happy June!

We seem to have skipped Spring, as per the usual for Boston weather. Cold, cold, rain, cold--muggy and unbearable! Really, there ought to at least be two or three weeks where I can leave the windows open in the morning and come home to a pleasantly cool room. No such luck.

New-home stuff moves along. I need more boxes.

No, Turbo, I'm not still holding my breath ... but I'm not jumping for joy yet either. Because I'm afraid of jinxing myself.


Finished reading Part II of Anna Karenina. Anna and Alexei's marriage is going down the drain, so that Anna can pursue her relationship with the other Alexei--Vronsky. Kitty isn't depressed about Vronsky anymore, but latching on to a kind of Born-Again-ness inspired by her trip to Germany. Aaaannnnd ... Levin is being a surly farmer.

I know it's epic and fabulous, and I really was drawn in by Tolstoy's description of Vronsky's doomed race horse. But ... well, I'm bored. The only reason I even bothered to tear through Part II was because I knew I'd be reading Funke and Pratchett when I was done. And now I'm reading Inkspell.

Speaking of Pratchett ... I have [ashamedly] been reading Teatime fan-fic. I blame Marc Warren and that neurotic part of me that falls for creepy men who probably smell nice.


Netflix delivered Tron and Turtles Can Fly. Tron was broken, so I've notified Netflix, and am mailing that back today. I still haven't sat down to watch Turtles Can Fly. It's not a movie you can watch while doing something else, because it's a Middle Eastern film with subtitles; and, yes, I could half-heartedly read every other subtitle while doing something else, but that kind of inattention will probably only lead to confusion and much rewinding.

Watched most of Season One of The Sopranos over the weekend on surfthechannel.com. Except that the second part of the season finale wouldn't load, so I'm left hanging. Maybe I can get it to work for me today. Tony's mannerism remind me much of my grandfather (who actually looked more like Paulie, but ...), except that Tony is actually more socially evolved than my grandfather ever was. Fear and distrust of psychiatry is spot-on, except that Tony moves beyond that and has a psychiatrist. My grandfather never got beyond that distrust--which was unfortunate for his kids, because more than a few of them have serious unresolved issues. Also, Junior looks a lot like my Great Uncle Pat.

It's fun to compare pronunciation of Mid-Atlantic Italian with actual Italian. Everything is a little mutated.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...