Work In Progress

Well, they're always a work in progress. I never finish anything. Seriously, ask anybody. I saw a co-worker had put up a photo of Debbie Harry that I recognized because it's my favorite photo of her. And also because I had attempted to translate it into a giant painting in college. The actual canvas is a thin cardboard box that measures like, 2'x3' or so. Naturally, I never finished it, but I wanted to post it here so she could see the painting. As you can see, I pretty much only finished the face. The hair is only roughed out. And the jacket is nonexistent. Ah well... I'm including the actual photo for reference here.

Junk Poetry

Sometimes I kind of enjoy the crazy junk E-mails that show up in my inbox. Like the woman who needs my help getting the inheritance her father left her. It's such a shame his business partner betrayed him and killed him, after all. The broken English is such a hoot. So imagine my delight when I opened up one called "simsim" to find a little stream of consciousness poetry following their sales pitch for pirating software. In the interest of furthering artistic expression, I present it to you here in full:

Nei Ho,

Are you a frequennt visitor of retaiil sooftware stores?

We know what you're overpayiing for:
- box manufactturing

- CD
- saalesperson salary
- Reent of shop spacee
- Year-too-year increasingg taxes in your counttry

Well, what for ?! You're able to downlload evverything legally NOW! Fabulouss range of sooftware and LOW prices will make you smile and save your money! Welcome to [oh no, I won't put the link in here!]

Moreover the rector's righthand man, ready to impedes thee
from the golden round, which fate 'em. I suppose if nathan,
the shipping clerk, mistress remained untouched by them,
being one the fruit which was upon the trees: but as they
o'clock. I hope nothing further has happened. And steered
toward the sound. The game path which he observed, with
a great steam i'll pay you well tents and huts. Manco pointed
to it with an expression before he was down again. Come,
my friend, said it was possible that in its oldspeak formenglish
is not sufficiently honourable for his ambition. Of commerce
in your kingdom. For this kind of oysters parboil'd, and
some cock stones. Fry the of my heart, light of my eyes,
oh, hear thy father's.

School Spirit

So I had a phone call from NYU last night. The girl started off asking me to confirm my address and ask for an E-mail address, but I knew what she really wanted. I feel bad letting them go on, but I also feel bad that these people have to do this, so I waited until she asked for a donation before I stopped her. She understood that it was hard for recent grads to make donations back to the university, and suggested maybe a smaller amount like $100. Um, a smaller amount would be $25.

She moved to the next talking point on her list, which was to bring up the statistic that apparently only 11% of NYU grads have given gifts, as opposed to other universities, where the percentage is around 40-60%. Well, duh. I mean, first off, NYU cost a fortune, so it's hard to justify giving them even more money, especially since most grads aren't going straight into a high-paying career. Also, NYU isn't the type of school that engenders any kind of community. I never felt any school spirit when I went there, and I don't think many others did, either. The "campus" is just a collection of scattered buildings around Washington Square Park, so it's not like the typical university campus where it creates a microcosm of society, bringing the students together. So without that kind of school loyalty, I'm not surprised they can only get 11% of their graduates to care enough to give back.

Besides that, I've got rent to pay!

Missing: Winter

So, um... what happened to winter? I mean, I'd gotten used to not having any snow in December. I can't remember the last time we had a white Christmas. (Then again, I can barely remember last week, so that doesn't mean that much, really)

But it's now the end of January, and we've had barely a dusting of the white stuff. How is that possible? Does this mean we're going to have winter in February and March now? Because we're not having it now. It's been in the 40s for far too long. And it keeps raining. They're saying it's supposed to pour on Friday. It should be a blizzard. But I have to keep bringing out the umbrella instead of a hat and scarf. Since I moved to New York City, I suppose I should be used to not getting those real New England winters, but it shouldn't feel like constant spring. I miss winter.

And not just because I'd like a snow day off from work. I just think winter should be actually cold and with snow on the ground. Call me crazy.

The road is long
There is a path
Sometimes
In the sand
Then it shifts
And the way is
Lost.

Some Thing

Well, for once, a movie managed to live up to the insane amount of hype that preceded it. Cloverfield is a smashing monster movie. It truly is Blair Witch-meets-Godzilla, with a small group of people trying to survive a monster rampaging through New York City while recording their plight on a digital video camera. As with most of these kind of films, the opening 15-20 minutes of character development (such as it is, which isn't much) are almost interminable as you wait for the action to start. But once it does, it never lets up. Not for a minute.

The effects are brilliant, and even more effective for the way they're presented. By only allowing glimpses of the monster, explosions and other assorted horrors as the camera flies around, your mind fills in the blanks, and that's always more effective than anything a CGI artist can come up with.

The only complaint I have is that the actors playing the underdeveloped characters are a mixed bag. Some of them struggle at times to make their dialogue sound "real" and improvised. And it doesn't help that the script can get pretty clunky.

But that doesn't really matter when the real meat of the film is the action setpieces and the monster's rampage. And that meat is tasty. Some of the people in our theater complained as the credits rolled, but if you want detailed plot exposition and a pat Hollywood ending, you went to see the wrong movie. I like 'em better this way anyway.

"She's Gonna Blow Him Away!"

Like an oasis of scripted television in the desert of reality TV and reruns, FOX has just premiered the new series Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. No, it's not the best series (I'd much rather be watching new episodes of Pushing Daisies), but it's entertaining enough, and I'm just happy to see a scripted show on TV.

It doesn't quite jibe with the movies, coming just after Terminator 2. And according to the series' creator, Terminator 3 is now an alternate timeline. That's a little presumptuous to say that your TV series is supplanting the third film. Of course, any story involving time travel is going to be complicated. Nothing you can do about that.

I just don't understand why FOX chose to do a two-night premiere, blowing two episodes in one week when there's only 8 or 9 of them to begin with. Then again, they've got American Idol starting tomorrow, so it's not like they're really bothered about ratings for their other shows...