(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)
[...]
Anna's acting aside (and I know a lot of people will disagree with me on this point), my sole complaint with the series was the [perfectly canon] possibility that Lafayette (Nelsan Ellis) would not see the second series. He was my favourite character in the first series, and completely independent of his role in the book universe. Amazing actor, amazing character, just really entertaining and fun to watch.
Lafayette wasn't a major character in the books, and Charlaine Harris killed him off (in the first book, if memory serves me); but in the show, I think he has been much too well-loved by the audience to just get rid of him so carelessly. If the intro is anything to go by, perhaps Alan Ball has thrown that out the window. Fine by me ... [Edit: Still watching (10:31) ... am I writing too soon? Is he going to die in this episode? If he dies in this, I am going to FLIP.]
I can't help but feel a bit sad that it appears Jason (Ryan Kwanten) is going to be turning into a Jesus person Fellowship of the Sun member this season. He was such a fun little man-whore in the last series. Ah, well. Character development. C'est la fiction.
Also, if the YouTube BloodCopyCom viral campaign is any indication, we might see the second Great Revelation (weres and shifters making themselves known) sooner than the pace of the books would have it. In the books, it didn't happen until Dead and Gone.
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
15 June 2009
True Blood S02E01 -- teletalk and spoilers
30 May 2009
we can't stop here
(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)
TheJokerBlogs' "Mr. J" is exposing another of his fandoms ...
Yesterday, on my way home I received a Twitter device update from @TheJokerBlogs that read: I'm planning a little vacation disguised as another famous rebel and will be at Hollywood & Highland today. And I'm bringing my attorney.
The inclusion of "attorney" made me think: Thompson--especially since I was overloading on Fear & Loathing a few weeks back.
Sure enough, a few hours later (while I was watching my recently acquired Russell Brand in New York City DVD), @MsManagr posted these:
There seemed to be some amount of confusion on YouTube as to which one is "Mr. J" ... I'm not sure how anyone would think that the man playing Dr. Gonzo is him, but then I've already seen video and pictures with him makeup-free. But really? ... Of course, he'd be Duke.
There was further confusion regarding the characters' names. "He's Gonzo--the one in the white hat." Half-right ... While Hunter S. Thompson--may he rest in peace--is/was often known as the original "gonzo journalist", his physical representation in Fear & Loathing is not Dr. Gonzo (who is, more properly, Oscar Zeta Acosta), but Raoul Duke. And when someone asks which one he is, and the name choices are Duke and Gonzo, Duke ought to be the answer that would cause least confusion.
... Yeah, okay, so I'm a didactic Johnny Depp fangirl and all-around bookish nerd.
More pondering: in revealing his actual face, I wonder if this is a prelude to [-----] coming out of the J-closet.
23 April 2009
re: argh
(Comments from LiveJournal)
Kat: You see that book? The one by the pretty man? Yeah, I'm going to borrow that from you.
And how did I know the instant I saw him, that he was undeniably one of your current (and possibly everlasting) deep, dark, and guilty pleasures?
(BTW, this means I get Johnny.)
Russell is pretty. And funny. If you haven't seen it yet, I encourage you to search for and watch "The Big Fat Quiz of the Year 2006" on YouTube; he and Noel Fielding comprise the third team, and they are wonderful together.
Why does my fondness for Russell mean giving up Johnny [Depp]?
[...] I finally finished the book of Lovecraft stories I was reading, so I'm only just on Chapter 5 of My Booky Wook. It's hilarious one minute, and terribly sad the next--but you can definitely hear Russell's voice throughout. It's excellent.
21 April 2009
yesterday's fake-holiday activities
(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)
Yesterday was good for nothing. I should've done laundry. Instead, I watched most of Season 2 of Dexter. I'd forgotten many of the subplots, so it all felt sort of new and interesting. I still strongly dislike Lila--which makes sense, I suppose, as we're not meant to like her. Still. What a skank-ho'.
I also messed around with my iPhone some more; and, on that topic, two more good and useful applications that also happen to be free:
Wikipanion, because it's about as close as we're going to get to an actual Hitchhiker's Guide. It's Wikipedia in a more iPhone-friendly format than you'd get browsing through Safari.
Stanza, because I don't want a Kindle, but I like the notion well enough. Hand-held electronic books (plenty of them for free if you're meaning to play catch-up with the classics), with changeable fonts and background contrast. It pulls from a variety of sources, including but not limited to: BooksOnBoard, Project Gutenberg, Feedbooks, and Fictionwise. And while I definitely prefer physical books, this makes for a good alternative if I run out of space in my bag or just forget to pack one.
And I discovered that it was much better for reading in bed when I'm cold (good grief, I was cold last night). I can burrow under the blankets and I don't need a light to see the text.
Mainly, I just keep thinking of little things that interest me and inspire me to seek out applications that correspond to them. Really, anything that deserves a button on my bookmarks toolbar has been given a search in Applications.
The one I've been avoiding downloading is Facebook, though it's in the Top 25 on the App charts. I think I probably share enough of myself as it is with LJ and Twitterrific. LiveJournal to satisfy my verbosity while maintaining a relative privacy (hello f-lock), and Twitter for the more public and more meaningless bits of life (Stephen: "twitter's right - every little thought that pops into my head is worth sharing"). Facebook still feels like giving and receiving much unwanted information. I'm okay with checking in at my desk, but I don't especially need it at my fingertips constantly.
What else? I started making icon bases for Disco Pigs. You can see them over at phantasm_bunny. Cillian Murphy's character Pig is a careful combination of adorable and creepy, which, by the end of the film, slides in favour of scary. I enjoy Cillian like that though (see: Red Eye and Batman Begins). The images, so far, come from The Cillian Site, but I think I might do some of my own screen-caps for my next part in the icon base series to see if I can't up the image quality a tick or two.
Other fun things to do: beating up lawn gnomes and flamingos (or being beaten up by lawn gnomes and flamingos) in the ZOMG! game on Gaia. The wasps found on Rancho de Bill frighten me, though. They're no more difficult to fight than the gnomes or the flamingos, but--they're giant frackin' wasps! BLEAH. Oh, well. My virtual purple sari and Colbert also make me happy.
... Is it wrong that I'd like to wear an actual sari? It feels somehow socially and ethnically incorrect--but they look so nice and vibrant!
16 March 2009
yes, you heard right
(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)
"Erm, I was looking for a book by Russell Brand, but I can't find it where the kiosk is telling me it should be ... Do you have any idea where else it might be in the store?"
"Is it listed as 'In Stock'?"
"Yep." I wouldn't be bothering if it weren't.
"And the title?"
"... Erm. ... My Booky Wook." *blush* It's not until you have to ask for it aloud that you realise how utterly ridiculous you sound by desiring it.
*smirk* ... Clickclickclickclick goes the keyboard. "And the author is Russell Banks?"
"Brand."
"Brand." ... Clickclickclickclickclick ... "And the title again?"
ARGH. ... Why do I get the feeling he's doing this on purpose? ... "My Booky Wook." *grimace*
"Right." Clickclickclickclick ...
And after that and a browse through the featured stacks (something I'd already done before asking for assistance), he couldn't find the book anyway. He asked if I wanted to order it, but I didn't bother. One, there's a Borders across the street. And two, I had a feeling he'd just make me give him the information all over again.
So I went over to Borders, and, lo and behold! They had plenty of copies in their Media section. I would've been lost in Biographies (where Barnes & Noble had it listed) if I hadn't done a search at their kiosk as well. And I begin to wonder if it wasn't in B&N's Media section, too ... Oh, well!
Also, the clerks at Borders were much less judgmental about my purchase. Or, rather, they were judgmental--but in a approving and non-mocking way.
So--I'm now a proud owner of My Booky Wook (but not so proud that I appreciate having to repeat the title aloud too often to people who have no idea who Russell Brand is, let alone having any concept of his particular level of silliness that would warrant such a title).
I really am happy to have the book, though. I think it'll be an entertaining read.
14 March 2009
degree of extreme
(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)
The cover of the Spring 2009 BU Arts & Sciences reads:
"BU (extreme) South - Geomorphologist David Marchant and his team of students discover Antarctica's secret past"
But, of course, because I'm still stuck at the mountains of madness, "secret past" makes me think of starfish-headed tentacle aliens in a labyrinthine city ...
And then Professor Marchant's Earth Science class, but that was pathetically secondary in my thought process. Yeah, I had a 9 AM class with him in Freshman year, and it was about as stirring as Lovecraft's "Mountains" (unfortunate for a morning class and a morning read, respectively).
Marchant is like my very own Dyer, and because of this little morsel of information regarding his travels, I will now be imagining him in place of my original mental sketch of Professor Dyer (in spite of the fact that Marchant is actually much younger than Dyer is meant to be). Yay!
I've listened to about a half-dozen of these in the past two days. "About," because I downloaded the first six but fell asleep listening to one last night.
My original notion of Russell Brand came from that Andrew Sachs prank phone call business. I listened to the audio of the radio programme long after the fact, and it wasn't so much scandalous to me as it was blown way out of proportion. I heard about the VMA nonsense a bit later, but I didn't really care ... because, well, I don't care about MTV.
But after watching Brand's special from New York City on ComedyCentral, my opinion of him has improved. Sure, he's an eccentric little giraffe (and a manwhore, to boot), and a lot of his routine is specifically grounded in moments of personal embarrassment, but he also has this marvelous ability to slip into beautifully poetic rambles. Very entertaining overall, so I went in search of more--and, indeed, found more.
Then, today I was watching movies on the Instant Queue and picked Penelope, because I remembered that a coworker had suggested it. And who should make a very brief cameo in that film but Russell Brand? I wasn't even paying attention at that point, to be honest (because I tend to web browse all the time); but then I heard that voice, to which I've become quite attuned with the aforementioned radio broadcast .mp3s and falling asleep to it and so on, and my brain went: Russell?! And there he was talking to James McAvoy's character! Very, very brief cameo, but it makes me feel as though my subconsciousness is dragging him around with me.
26 February 2009
30 July 2008
visions of the future
Reading Good Omens--particularly this bit where Aziraphale speaks through the televangelist, informing everyone listening what the apocalypse is really like:
'"Well, nice try," he said in a completely different voice, "only it won't be like that at all. Not really.
"I mean, you're right about the fire and war, all that. But that Rapture stuff--well, if you could see them all in Heaven--serried ranks of them as far as the mind can follow and beyond, league after league of us, flaming swords, all that, well, what I'm trying to say is who has time to go round picking people out and popping them up in the air to sneer at the people dying of radiation sickness on the parched and burning earth below? If that's your idea of a morally acceptable time, I might add..."'
The notion of the Rapture strikes me as the ultimate schadenfreude delusion. Really.
And then happening upon this in my rounds of catching up on the webcomics ...
marriedtothesea.com
I'm pretty sure I prefer Mr. Gaiman's and Mr. Pratchett's version of things, but I have a soft spot for Natalie and Drew. And life sucks enough that Republicans would bring about an apocalypse.
It made me think of that magic line from Doctor Who, but I'll mess with it to make it work--
'Don't you think he looks tired?'
And if you can't guess who 'he' is, you're not trying hard enough.
15 July 2008
useless productivity
"And why aren't you well-rested?"
Because I wanted to see the end of the Star Trek: TNG two-parter on Sci-Fi (in spite of the fact that I've seen the Spock-defects-to-Romulus episodes before). And because I was on the internets until midnight. And then messing around with my iPod for another half-hour for no good reason.
So I'm a walking wreck today.
On the other hand, I finally had a Lush day on Sunday, which was awesome. I put the sound-dock just inside the bathroom door, turned the volume up, and lounged and sang along to Coldplay for a good hour. Also kept thinking of Ford Prefect, shouting, "You're a load of useless bloody loonies!" Not a particularly kind bubble-bath reference, but it made me giggle.
Speaking of Coldplay, "Violet Hill" is getting an awful lot of play-time on my iPod lately. Considering breaking down and outright buying the entire Viva la Vida album, since I do like what I've heard of the rest of it ...
Movie things--The Quiet American and The Air I Breathe arrived on Friday, and I took my time watching them. I might be on a Brendan Fraser kick right now. They were both good, but I liked The Air I Breathe more than I had expected (more than Netflix expected I would, certainly--if you're unfamiliar with this feature, based on your reviews of films, Netflix guesses how much you will or will not enjoy films you haven't seen). Air is similar to Crash in that it examines how several lives intertwine, looked at separately and where they cross--except that here they really do cross, whereas I felt a few of the "crashes" in Crash were more like gazes across a crowded room. Which is more realistic? Well, neither is particularly realistic to me, but they are movies; is realism the point?
I'm expecting Gotham Knight in today's mail--veering away from the Brendan Fraser bout of films, and prepping for The Dark Knight, which I'm seeing with
Books--Revenger's Tragedy. Still. Nearly done. Promise.
Next on the list? I should probably turn back to Anna Karenina. You can tell how excited I am about that, I suppose. Oh, well. I'll at least feel accomplished when it's over. Maybe.
14 July 2008
top 5's
Sob-fests and children's books ...
Today, from thewhyfive ...
Top 5 Sad Movies:
1. The Joy Luck Club - It's all about relationships, the generation gap, hopes and dreams fulfilled and dashed. The ending with the sisters' uniting always makes me cry.
2. Moulin Rouge - Not a "sad" movie, per se, but the ending is MISERABLE. Again with the crying.
3. Finding Neverland - The mother is dying from the moment the audience sees her. You know she's going to die, but the ending is still a bawl-fest when she "sees" Barrie's imaginary world come to life.
4. Pan's Labyrinth - Again, not exactly a sad movie, but Javier Navarrete's score pulls at the heart-strings.
5. The Last Samurai - Beautiful and sad, it's about the destruction of a terribly graceful way of life.
Honourable mention: The Fox and the Hound. This made me cry as a child. It probably still would.
Dishonourable mention: Atonement - Because it's sad, and did make me cry, but definitely went above and beyond the call of duty to wrench out the viewer's heart and stomp on it for good measure. Definitely a bitter "oh, fuck you, movie-makers" kind of cry.
Top 5 Favorite Children's Books:
1. Where the Sidewalk Ends and other Shel Silverstein books -- gently grim poetry for youngsters.
2. Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak -- You have to love monsters you can play with.
3. Strega Nona by Tomie dePaola -- because who doesn't want a Magic Pasta Pot?
4. The Woodland Folk in Dragonland by Tony Wolf -- I would spend hours looking at the illustrations in this book--beautiful and riddled with short episodes about the woodland folk's interactions with dragons (good and bad but mostly bad).
5. Anything by Dr. Seuss -- fun pictures and [usually] good messages (Hop On Pop was probably not a good message).
Honourable mention: Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling, as I was not a child when it was published.
01 July 2008
True Blood - The Pilot
Due to BitTorrent's initial slowness, I tried to watch the pilot episode of True Blood on tudou.com yesterday evening.
For clarification, Tudou is one of the many Asian video-sharing sites out there. It one-ups YouTube by going mostly unnoticed by the lawyers responsible for pulling various materials from YouTube and GoogleVideo. The downside is that many of the videos you will find on Tudou or MegaVideo or Veoh will be titled with Chinese characters.
So the second part of the True Blood pilot was there and labeled 'B', but there was no part 'A' to be found. Thus, I watched the last half hour of the 90-minute pilot.
By the time I woke up this morning, BitTorrent was finished with the transfer. So I watched the first fifteen minutes with breakfast before I had to brush my teeth and leave to catch my train.
So I've seen forty-five minutes of the pilot--forty-five broken minutes with a major gap in between.
And, happily, I'm excited to see the rest of it when I get home.
Much like the books, I get the feeling I'm going to feel split between the guys and whom I want Sookie to end up with. The actors playing Bill and Sam are mostly spot-on. Sam's hair is meant to be a bit more ... well, more, but the rest of him seems right. The actor's name is Sam too--and I seem to recall him as one of Dexter's trophy serial killers. The actress playing Sookie's friend Tara was Whitney on Passions. Tara is much less polite, but, strangely, I get the idea that the character is a better person.
The theme music (well, it might be the theme music; occasionally what you hear in the pilot is cut or changed by the time the show actually airs) is fitting for the setting and the plot. If there could be a Dark-Country genre (ala Dark Wave and/or Death Metal), that's how I'd describe the sound and lyrics. Better similarity--Nick Cave's "Red Right Hand."
So far as pacing goes, it looks like they might be going two to three chapters per episode, but my memory of Dead Until Dark might be a fuzzy (it's been at least five years since I read it). Whatever the case, I think they could get a good cable-season out of each book, the events of which are fairly episodic anyway. Granted, the Writers Strike could land the show on the chopping block before it's had its day, since it was meant to be out in early Spring this year, and it was pushed back to September. Still, it suits the Fall season. They might be better off.
Likely to follow this up once I've actually finished watching the full episode.
02 June 2008
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.
29 May 2008
distractions
I lied. I finished Twilight yesterday morning before leaving for work, and I'm not reading Anna Karenina. I picked up The Good Fairies of New York again. It's still fairly flat, but I'll finish with it tonight or tomorrow.
It's not even the story that I find flat. The plot is good, the character ideas are good. But the execution is wrong. It sometimes reads like a daily comic, minus graphics. Very choppy and not enough imagery by far. The characters' manners of speaking are also awkward and not very naturalistic. I feel like I know what Millar is trying to do with it--minimalism akin to the telling of classic fairy tales--but I just don't think it works, not when your characters are not recognisable archetypes.
Following Twilight with this is making me feel like a very fussy reader. I think I'll try to get through Part Two of Anna when I'm done with Good Fairies. But Anna is a lot like a soap opera, without the satisfaction of steamy sex or over the top violent and melodramatic moments. I think the suspicion of this very thing is why I've been avoiding Tolstoy all these years.
I also added Dickens' The Pickwick Papers to my Summer Reading List. I might regret that decision eventually too.
My book-per-week plan should be back on track by the end of June if I keep tossing a couple of shorter novels between Parts of Anna Karenina. I think Funke's Inkspell and Pratchett's Sourcery are two good candidates for my next Anna-break.
Netflix sent me Stage Beauty, largely to do with English theatre in the late seventeenth century and focusing particularly on Edward Kynaston, one of the last male leading ladies before Charles II outlawed men in women's parts. I enjoyed it very much. Billy Crudup has a remarkably angular face, and, yes, is a very pretty man--though, in my opinion, much better-looking as a man than, as the movie seems to suggest at times, a woman. The half-hour long behind-the-scenes bonus feature was interesting. Tom Hollander's good-natured griping about Billy Crudup--excellent.
I was also supposed to get Stealing Beauty, but that didn't arrive. And they emailed me last night to say that Tron is being sent from New Brunswick, so there's no knowing how long that will take to get here.
The Lost finale is this evening, but I don't know whether to be excited or wary. I don't see how this season can end well.
27 May 2008
safe to say
Or maybe 'third time's a charm' is more apt?
I suppose it's not safe to say anything until the actual closing ... but I've done the home inspection, and a list of needed fixes was proposed--upon which there was general agreement, so ...
Things are moving forward nicely. Knock on wood.
Closing is set for 20. June.
Can I breathe yet, or should I hold my breath for another four weeks? Ugh.
I packed away my winter clothes this weekend. It did two things. First, it de-cluttered my room in a big way. Second, it made me feel like I was packing, which I really don't want to put off until 16. June or something. So that sort of feeling of productivity was a bonus. Let's keep doing a bit of that every weekend.
Probably need to get in touch with a mover. Granted, it won't be a huge move (for distance or belongings), but I can't ask my friends to move me again and I can't lug this stuff up a flight of stairs (or two) on my own. Done with that. I should ask Tom for a recommended mover.
Watched Hogfather on Sunday while cleaning/packing. That was unexpectedly brilliant--well, unexpected to me, just because I lack faith in made-for-TV movies. But I suppose I should have more faith when it's Terry Pratchett. I really like what Marc Warren did with the assassin Mr. Teatime (te-ah-TIM-eh ... :-P). His voice was very much like Johnny Depp's rendition of Willy Wonka, only intentionally creepy (though I have my suspicions that that's what Depp was going for anyway). On the whole, it reminded me a lot of Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas, what with a skeleton man taking on the role of Father Christmas and everything. It does make me wonder which story existed first--Pratchett's novel or Burton's film?
Put down Anna Karenina and picked up The Good Fairies of New York, which was reading a little flat in my current mood, so I put it down and picked up Twilight. It's kind of a 500-page Mary Sue (our heroine's name is Bella Swan--really, now), and many of the characters are annoying, and many of the situations are contrived, and I keep waiting for the Hurt/Comfort plot device to enter into it (it's really the best way to endear your readership to a potentially dangerous or unlikeable character--make him/her do something selfless or comforting for your wounded protagonist). I'm so cynical. Still, it's proving to be a quick read, and I'll probably finish it this evening. Maybe it's the whole 'Young Adult' fiction thing, but they don't do anything. Too much angst and no action--and not much hope of any either. I will see the movie when it comes out in December, even if it's bound to be painfully over the top. Robert Pattinson already won me over in Goblet of Fire.
Went to see Indiana Jones on Saturday morning, which was wonderful, because nobody else comes to the cinema at 10 o'clock in the morning. It was over the top, but I loved it. And I loved the brief nods to the other Indy adventures. Yesterday I went to an early showing of Prince Caspian, which I enjoyed more than the previous film--but why are the bad humans Spaniards? I don't understand that. I enjoyed Eddie Izzard's voice work as Reepicheep, and Mr. Caspian (Ben Barnes) made for excellent eye-candy even if his acting was a little flat. Peter Dinklage's acerbic remarks gave a decent balance to the more saccharine moments.
... I'll read Part Two of Anna Karenina when I'm done with Twilight. Honest.
Also, the completely opaque blinds were just installed in my office a few minutes ago. I *heart* my cave.
02 May 2008
skewed standards
I started watching Dexter this week on surfthechannel.com.
It's weird what becomes, well, fictionally acceptable after a point.
The pilot--especially the opening sequence--was downright disturbing; but it's the perfect introduction to Dexter Morgan. The voice-over tells us what he's about, explains what he's doing and why he's doing it, which is: stalking serial killers to satisfy his own need to kill people.
Because Dexter has a code ingrained in him by a terribly understanding step-father Harry--a police officer who discovered his adopted son's urges at a very young age. Oh, and we know that Harry rescued Dexter from a gruesome crime scene at the age of four, a crime that clearly has had its effects on Dexter's psyche. In order to quell these urges, Harry teaches Dexter to hunt and kill animals, to pretend emotions, and eventually how to spot other serial killers and how to cover his tracks when Dexter kills them.
It's important to note that Harry is the only person who knows what Dexter is. His foster mother and sister have no idea.
Flash forward to the present. Dexter and his step-sister work for the Miami Dade Police Department, Dexter specialising in forensic blood spatter. Wee.
He's really an excellent antihero. The first episode's opening is repellent and typical--Dexter hunts down, drugs, butchers, and disposes of a serial killer of young boys--but the remainder of the pilot is a steady inward reeling in which I just become very attached to Dexter.
Dexter does not consider himself capable of "love," as such, but he does have intense loyalty to the good people around him. He has a girlfriend, Rita, and her two children by an abusive ex-husband. In another voice-over, he admits that part of the draw to Rita is her alike damaged nature and their shared dream of normalcy. And he is, in his own words, "very fond of" his step-sister Deb. I think it's these few human connections, and the bewildering moments of emotional disconnect, that make Dexter the most endearing sociopath ever.
Oh, and he's always eating. All the time. Gorey crime scene--and--a sandwich!
I've also been turning over in my head the similarity between Dexter and Lestat circa Memnoch the Devil. Both hunt down and murder other murderers to satisfy something inside them--not really as an act of justice, though an outside observer could make that judgment call, but because they need to kill somebody, and it may as well be somebody wicked. And they both have personal connections that make them more human, give them a chance to show a better side.
It's another reason for being okay with Dexter--prior experience in being attached to characters that are, well, not exactly all wrong, but definitely not right.
11 January 2008
books and movies -- lists
Begun: 11. January 2008
Last update: 30. May 2008
Listing new books read:
Books
01. Inkheart by Cornelia Funke
02. Fables: Wolves by Bill Willingham
03. The Magic Toyshop by Angela Carter
04. The Ape Who Guards the Balance by Elizabeth Peters
05. Lady of the Forest by Jennifer Roberson
06. Watership Down by Richard Adams
07. The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
08. Morality Play by Barry Unsworth
09. Finder by Emma Bull
10. Long Hot Summoning by Tanya Huff
11. Dragonfly In Amber by Diana Gabaldon
12. The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett
13. The Light Fantastic by Terry Pratchett
14. Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett
15. Mort by Terry Pratchett
16. Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay
17. Dearly Devoted Dexter by Jeff Lindsay
18. Dead Sexy (Garnet Lacey, Book 2) by Tate Hallaway
19. From Dead to Worse by Charlaine Harris
20. Twilight (The Twilight Saga, Book 1) by Stephenie Meyer
21. The Good Fairies of New York by Martin Millar
currently reading: Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
29 January 2007
pure morning
Oh, this past weekend ... ~_~
And now for a more-detailed account of the weekend's events, adventures in Providence, and terrorists on skis.
Friday afternoon I left work and headed inbound, stopping at Park Street to browse through the Borders at Downtown Crossing (and apparently there's another Borders on Boylston St. now, too?). I was looking for books on doll-making (big surprise, that is) and drawing super-deformed characters (chibi!), since the human dolls I'm interested in making are of the chibi/SD variety. All around, that was a very discouraging stop, since there was really nothing I could use in stock.
Art dolls are ... interesting, but they give me the creeps. I'm not talking about sock creatures or weird animals or patch-work creations--but rather dolls like this. I recognize their art value; I can even understand why some people would want to collect and create them; but I wouldn't deal well with having one in my room. I would have Puppet Master nightmares (except that the nightmares would actually be scary rather than stupidly funny, like those movies).
From Park Street, I went to Harvard Square to visit Tokyo Kid, looking to see if they had any plushies in a discount bin; because, at a cheap enough price, I wouldn't mind buying one just to take it apart. Yes, I should've known better, really. Nothing is ever cheap at that store. Plushies of the type I was interested in were starting at $14. Yeah. No. Not for a UFO-catcher doll. Not when I've seen them on eBay for $6.
They did have how-to guides for drawing manga characters, but they weren't really what I wanted (and $20 besides); so I left without buying anything and continued on to The Coop. They were also a no-go for doll-making books, but they did have a very nice selection of manga-drawing books on the lowest shelf in their Art section. I might've bought one, but when I looked at the neverending line for the cashier, I lost my verve and opted to just go home. It was easy to do, really, since I knew I'd be spending money on Saturday. And since I went to Amazon.com, and ordered this.
And, check, spent money on Saturday. Melissa picked me up at the train station and we drove 'round to The Fabric Place and A.C. Moore. At The Fabric Place (where my head spun around and exploded upon entering--no, not really, but yikes, it's overwhelming) I bought velour in white and light gray, an evergreen suede, and a book on the basics of making soft toys. A.C. Moore had beanie babies for $4 ... yes, ashamed to say it, but I bought two: a skunk and an owl who have joined Jiji on the top of my television set. Oh! and some fat quarters in red, black, purple, and blue with different and interesting patterns.
Really, I wasn't as bad as I'd expected. The grand total could've been much worse.
After that, we went back to Melissa's to pick up Erich so we could all go to lunch. We went to The Texas Roadhouse. It's awesome. Yeah, the music is country-western, and we could all live without that, but the food ... The food is really just to-die-for. I haven't had steak in ... forever; and this was the perfect reunion for me and steak. And I ate alllll my food--and didn't really notice how full I was until it was time to get up and leave. And Mel very graciously spotted me the money for dinner again, so I really must buy her and Erich dinner next time around. I feel like a free-loader! TT_TT
Then we went back to the house for stitching and season two of Doctor Who. The six-minute segue between the end of season one and "The Christmas Invasion" (that I'd never seen before) really helps the Christmas special make more sense (so far as Rose accepting the Doctor's body-change, and how they crash). And holy crap, I love the outtakes so much. It makes me want to dress up as a cyberman and run around the Common, chasing squirrels and pigeons. Mmm. David Tennant.
And I was being productive too! I cut new arms (as I was less than pleased with my first attempt), hand-stitched them, and hand-sewed them into the torso seam, all ready to be stuffed when I got home. That doesn't seem like very much when typed out, but it took me a while to do all that. I think the biggest headache was in figuring out the placement of the arms in seams; because I wanted the seams to be perpendicular, not lined up (I like making life difficult for myself). But after they were pinned into place, it wasn't too bad.
After the Doctor Who outtakes, Mel drove me home--which was super-nice of her. And I, of course, stayed awake to stuff the doll's arms and torso, and attach the head. This was all while half-heartedly watching Icebreaker. I didn't know what the hell was happening in that movie by the time I'd finished crafting and was actually paying attention ... so I started the DVD over again from the beginning. And promptly fell asleep.
I tried to watch it again on Sunday morning. It's a really bad movie, Bruce Campbell and Sean Astin notwithstanding. A concise description of the plot idea would be "Die Hard with skis." If you think that sounds dumb, you don't know the half of it. I swear it was written by somebody (probably a former member of ski patrol) who was working at a ski resort and got bored. I can just see it:
"Oh, what if terrorists showed up?" [for no bloody reason at all] "Hmm. Yes. They need a reason to be here, don't they? ... Uhh, they've lost their nuclear weapons from Russia in a plane crash on the mountain! And the only way to get them back is to take the ski lodge hostage!" [never mind that Russia is small beans anymore, but they can't just sneak up there and get their nuclear stuff back without anybody noticing?] "No! We want this to be like Die Hard! And, instead of a cop, what if a member of the ski patrol had to save the day?" [because, you never know, it could happen] "And we can have terrorists on skis, chasing the hero down the black diamond trail!" [the terrorists know how to ski?] "Yes." [and snowboard?] "Yes!" [and shoot guns at the same time?] "YES!" [how do all the terrorists know how to ski?] "Because they do!" [and, yes, losing me ...]
You know that's how it went. Sean Astin should've known to stay away from terrorist movies after Toy Soldiers. Oh, well. In spite of its being a really dumb movie (actually, maybe because it's a really dumb movie), I did kind of enjoy it. But then I enjoyed Toy Soldiers too, and that's equally absurd.
Oh, yeah. A little after ten o'clock the doorbell rang. It was the USPS carrier. On Sunday. My package from Aranzi Aronzo had arrived--less than a week after ordering it. From Japan. And on a Sunday. The EMS packaging boasts: "fastest International delivery." I think they've earned that boast. I really didn't expect it to arrive that fast.
The book is beautiful and chock full of visual instructions that make it really easy to follow along. And the fact that I can read katakana helps a bit too.
On the invoice somebody wrote a small note in very neat (and somewhat broken) English. But it was just so nice. And personalized. And it definitely made me go: "Awwwwww!"
It might be a generalization of their culture, but it's a good one--and so, hopefully, forgiveable--but ... Japanese people are so damn nice.
18 January 2007
Tarzan, much?
There are certain notions that I would tend to immediately dismiss as fiction. This was one of them:
'Wild Cambodia jungle-girl' found
A Cambodian girl who disappeared aged eight has been found after reportedly living wild in the jungle for 19 years.
So this girl is 27, has been surviving in the jungle for almost two decades, and speaks no discernible language? I call that a movie plot waiting to happen.
Honestly, it's like The Jungle Book or Tarzan or George of the Jungle. Crazy.
16 January 2007
digging for the truth
It's a slogan that The History Channel has pasted all over the MBTA Green Line trains (I can't speak for the other lines, as I don't see them very often). It's a sentiment that would seem to express serious scholastic interest, but none of the accompanying images really match up.
"Digging for the truth" apparently means taking part in adventure sport--hang-gliding over lost civilizations that bear a striking resemblance to scenery from King Kong and Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, rock-climbing the face of large old statues (that, amazingly, aren't so old that they crumble or self-destruct under the stress and pressure of human weight), and base-jumping (or perhaps sky-diving, I couldn't tell) out of helicopters. ... But no actual "digging," no, not as such.
I had a lot of time to contemplate these advertisements over the three-day weekend (because I work at a university, and Martin Luther King Jr. received his doctorate here--if we didn't celebrate Martin Luther King Day as a proper holiday, what would people think?).
Saturday I spent indoors, watching DVDs from Netflix and some episodes of Psych that I had downloaded from iTunes. I also began to rearrange and tidy up my book-shelves, trying to give the madness a recognizable method--important since there are things I can't find that I really wish I could.
Like my sketch books or my votive candles. I had a whole bag of votives, and now I have no idea where they are. I really hope they're not in my closet (a whole other barrel of worms--yes, a barrel), but the fact that I dread even attempting to search there probably means that that's exactly where they are.
But speaking of Psych, the long mid-season pause (a pause of several months, as the last new episode was back in August) is nearly over; there's going to be a new episode airing this Friday. I'm looking forward to the continuation and hope that the series is picked up for another season. Blasphemy, but I like it better than Monk.
I nearly stayed indoors again on Sunday, but outside forces were at work that would change my mind midway through the day. Numerous instant messages overnight from my mother guilted me into inspired me to call my parents. My mother was happy to find that I'd been making use of the iTunes gift card they'd given me for Christmas (those television episodes). She also wanted to know my extended weekend plans, which had basically been put on the shelf due to inclement weather, and I said as much.
Then my father got on the phone and gave me a pep-talk--you know the kind. Don't let bad weather discourage you, get out there with an umbrella and enjoy the time, etc. It's a very easy pep-talk to give when your own weather is not shit (they live in North Carolina, and enjoyed a sunny and mild weekend). So I said in a very noncommittal way that I would get out of my apartment, and he seemed nonetheless satisfied with that unenthusiastic response.
They rung off, and I surprised even myself by actually doing what I said I would. I ate a quick lunch and left the house, North Station my destination--and arrived there at about 1:45 PM. I bought a round-trip ticket at the booth, and took the Rockport train out of Boston at 2:15 PM, which is how I ended up spending a rainy afternoon in Salem, MA.
While there, I [finally] bought Christmas presents for my flat-mates at a shop on Derby St. called Witch Ways: a sun-and-moon themed wind-chime for Michelle and an opalescent "witch ball" for Stephanie (they call it that because it's meant to protect a home from malevolent forces, but to me it looks like a pretty glass-blown Christmas ornament). After that, I went farther down to Ye Olde Pepper Candy Companie, the oldest candy company in America (open since 1806), and bought truffles--because I really like their truffles and thought they would be nice to accompany the gifts.
Christmas crises over with, I walked back toward Pickering Wharf, and stopped in at Cafe Jaho for a cappuccino and some writing--and, though I hadn't really expected much of myself, I got a fair amount of writing done. It needs editing, as the characterization of my main character is a little off for the scene (though I haven't dealt with him in 50,000 words, so that's not very surprising); but I like what I've done with the secondary character, so it wasn't a wasted or fruitless effort.
I didn't leave Salem until nearly 6:00 PM, and walked around taking pictures in the dark until the next inbound train was due to arrive.
Some of them turned out better than others.
Yesterday morning, as I was getting ready to go out into the rain again, the doorbell rang. It was the postman with my purchases from Amazon.co.uk--the three new books based on the Torchwood series. I unwrapped them, enjoyed the sight of them for a few minutes (when you line up the three separate book spines they make a picture of the whole team), and put Another Life in my bag for T reading material.
I spent the afternoon at the CambridgeSide Galleria, and bought a new protective case for my iPod (a black and red leather folio that I saw at the Apple Store in Raleigh, NC over Christmas break and had been coveting ever since, regardless of the U2-connection).
Shopping confession two, I feel, requires preamble to justify the purchase--one that the majority of my friends will still feel is not an adequate justification; but if they're really my friends they'll forgive the rather "preppy" vanity involved. I don't generally shop at Abercrombie & Fitch; it's usually out of my price range, and, quite frankly, most of the clothing is poorly crafted and overpriced for its quality (or lack thereof). I've only shopped their clearance, because that's when I feel that the clothing is actual worth what you're paying.
All that being said, I really like the way Abercrombie & Fitch clothing smells--you know, before the first time you wash it. And, while looking for clothing deals with my mother in the post-Christmas madness, we went into an Abercrombie & Fitch. I ended up buying a sweater and a pair of greenish-gray khakis; and again, I was struck by the fragrance on all of the clothes.
Waiting in line, there was a table beside the check-out counter with bottles of multiple scents, and I picked up the test-bottle of "Classic" on a hunch and spritzed it on a test-strip. Sure enough, "Classic" is what all their clothes smell like. And I wanted it, but I didn't buy it; it seemed like overkill at the time (and I'm sure still seems like overkill to you, dear readers, now).
With that long introduction to the fact, the shorter story is that I went and bought a bottle yesterday at the Galleria. Because I was there, and alone, and had no one in tow to give me judgmental glares about the silliness of such a purchase (you know who you are--yes, all of you, most likely). No, I'm only leaving myself open to criticism after the fact by mentioning it in my blog; but at least this way no one can attempt to talk me out of it.
03 January 2007
saving those pence
I watched the finale of Torchwood last night, but only after observing the torrent with much frustration for several hours. It was certainly worth the wait.
First of all, BBC Three aired the final episodes (12 and 13) of Torchwood on Monday night. I waited and watched mininova and similar sites, on the lookout for an update and available torrents. A little while before I was getting ready to go to bed, they were suddenly there, so I started them; and, in spite of there being purportedly dozens of seeds, the torrents were downloading very slowly. I huffed and sobbed and eventually went to bed, with the old aphorism of pots boiling running through my brain.
When I awoke the next morning, they were barely half-done downloading. I huffed some more, and went to watch episodes of Arrested Development and Robin Hood and continued to check on my torrents restlessly.
Episode 12, "Captain Jack Harkness" finished at around 7:30 PM, and I eagerly dropped everything else and was fairly hypnotised by my media player for the next fifty minutes. Brief plot: the Jack we know and Toshiko walk through a rift in time in an old abandoned Ritz, and they end up in 1940s Cardiff just before the blitz--where they meet ... Captain Jack Harkness.
First off, the other Captain Jack Harkness is very pretty; this episode was asking for a Jack/Jack snog the moment the audience (and our Captain Jack) was introduced to the other one. Suffice to say, the episode doesn't disappoint in that way at all. It almost makes you believe it's going to disappoint you, but then it doesn't.
Eventually, the rest of the team bring Jack and Tosh back through the rift (with their machine and an incomplete equation). Actually, that's much easier said than done on-screen. Ianto and Owen get into a serious brawl over whether they should or shouldn't use the rift machine without the complete equation (Owen for, and Ianto against). Owen manages to activate the machine, bringing their teammates back through, but Owen doesn't get through that act unscathed. Ianto shoots him in the back, and only barely misses his heart.
"End of Days" is the thirteenth and final episode of this season. The aftershocks of Owen's opening the rift continue to have ill effect on Cardiff and the world. Aliens, Roman soldiers, and peasants carrying the Black Death are coming through the rift and wreaking havoc. Jack blames Owen, and after too much insubordination from Owen, Jack fires him. I also get the feeling that perhaps Jack would've been happier to stay in the 1940s in the previous episode, and is angry that Owen has brought them back at such an expense to humanity.
Throughout the episode the team members see dead loved ones urging them to open the rift--that if they only open the rift entirely, everything will go back to normal. Gwen ends up being the catalyst; her boyfriend Rhys is stabbed to death by the strange Ritz manager from the previous episode, stabbed while Rhys is locked in the Hub (and supposedly safe from harm). Gwen, convinced that she can turn back time and bring her beau back to life, insists upon opening the rift. Jack knows better, but Owen shows up again (after a haunting visit from his lost Dianne) and they all turn on Captain Jack in mutiny. And Owen shoots Jack in the head when the Captain tries to forcibly stop them from turning on the machine.
No, turning on the rift machine was a bad idea. As it turns out, a giant demonic creature lives under the rift, and the team has inadvertently released it and brought on the destruction of man; because any human being standing in the shadow of the monster falls down dead. Well, as he has done in previous episodes, Captain Jack comes back to the land of the living after being shot in the head repeatedly, determined to sacrifice himself for the greater good again.
The final minutes of the episode are fairly biblical. Jack has Gwen drive him out to the hills to meet the demon and tells her to run away. Jack and the giant have a battle of will--the creature's ability to fell anything in its path versus Jack's apparent immortality. There's light and rumbling, and Jack's neverending life-force seems to react with the monster's shadow like a meeting of matter and anti-matter. The creature is consumed in light and disappears, leaving Jack (looking much worse for wear) lying on the hill-top.
Gwen brings his body back to the Hub, and everyone besides her believes Jack is (at last) dead. After assuring herself that Rhys is back and alive, Gwen returns to Jack and sits with him for days. When she seems ready to give up, she kisses him, and starts to walk away. We hear Jack say, "Thank you." And, like Jesus out of the tomb, he's back!
It's a good way to end the season and a real tear-jerker. Everyone's crying and hugging and apologising, and Jack forgives a crying Owen and snogs Ianto. It's just a happy ending.
And then Jack seems to see something that the audience isn't allowed to see, there's a sound--very Tardis-like--and Jack disappears without a trace. Again, like Jesus being collected to Heaven.
Jack is a total Christ figure.
Continuing my need for Torchwood, I went to Amazon.co.uk, and ordered the first two books based on the series: Another Life and Slow Decay, priced at £5.59 each. I also purchased Maddigan's Quest, because I've been meaning to watch it since last January.
However, when I went back to Amazon.co.uk this morning, the books were priced down to £4.89 each; so I cancelled them on the previous order, and re-ordered all three at the new and lower price. Because I value that £2.10--that's $US 4 or so. I can get three cups of coffee out of that at Dunkin' Donuts.
Yes, I'm cheap--but it's Amazon's fault for allowing me to be so. You can cancel anything up until they actually ship it to you; and since they hadn't shipped them yet, I was allowed to cancel and get the discount. And I like getting a discount, especially when I'm paying nearly £10 for shipping and handling (because there's no super saver shipping to the States from the UK).
And a final note to self: Slip the rent check under the landlord's door. While she's a nice lady and won't come to murder you in your sleep, you shouldn't take advantage of that. Stop being forgetful. The End.
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