that I have been delinquent about blogging. Indeed, that is the case. My last post dates back to more than three weeks ago.
So how to summarize the last three weeks without doing so in my usual cursory and breezy way where I sort of apologize for not being more accountable to my readership of two or so and then half-heartedly go through the motions of discussing the highlights of the past few days.
Well, first things first, I promised you movie reviews. And I have seen two movies. So here goes:
(1) I saw Inception a couple of weeks ago. But I have to confess that I saw the movie late on a weekday after a long day of work, and so when the theater lights dimmed and the air conditioning kicked in, and I fully satiated myself on the gummy bears that I bought as an impulse purchase right before the movie, well, you saw me sliding lower and lower in my seat and . . . perhaps I took a cat nap.
Which in a movie about dreams does not seem all that inappropriate.
The problem, however, is that the movie is complicated. I think it's supposed to be like an onion, and you're supposed to peel off layer after layer. Which means that I had to eat raw onion skin. Yes, figure out how that metaphor works. There's meaning in there somewhere, I'm sure.
(2) I can review "Salt" more ably, given that I stayed awake. I love action movies, even though they have become simply so ludicrous. Eons ago (perhaps a month or so ago) I talked about seeing the movie with Cameron Diaz and Tom Cruise, the name of which escapes me now, and I'm so lazy I can't even bother to look it up again, oh google despite you being at my fingertips, I still have to exercise those lazy fingertips, in which the improbable happens. Well, same plot line for Salt -- the improbable, nay, the impossible happens. But that is OK. The movie has Angelina Jolie, and she really is one of a kind. I can't think of another woman who does "tough" quite like she does. I know Jennifer Garner was kind of kick-assy in the TV series Alias but there was something soft about her. In Jolie, too, but that vulnerability seems vulnerable rather than cute/ faux feminine.
I found the plot a little complicated. Which might I am dumber than your average law graduate since my two law school friends with whom I saw the movie both thought that the plot was simply silly. But I thought that it was layered. That onion peeling metaphor applies again! And there was a twist at the end, and Lord knows who I love twists, especially when it's a lemon being squeezed into my drink.
But I digress. Go watch the movie. At least (2) if not (1). Because I haven't adequately reviewed (1).
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Knight and Day
From time to time, I think that I should go see things or listen to music or admire art, and then come blog about the experience so that I give off the impression that I am a cultured male. And this blog entry serves as my Man About Town type of entry in The New Yorker. Or whatever that column is called in the early pages of the magazine.
So I will do a cultured thing and give you my review of Knight and Day. Which you should watch if you are drunk, or you really don't have anything to do and you want entertainment so mindless that only you yourself are to blame for the decision at the end.
Knight and Day, starring Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz, is a fun, action-packed summer thriller, involving plenty of car chases, improbable shooting scenes with big guns (including a scene where Ms. Diaz can't figure out how to stop firing bullets at Mr. Cruise -- hint, take your finger off the trigger instead of shrieking like a banshee). There is supposed to be witty repartee and sexual tension between the two characters (after being drugged, Cameron (no longer Ms. Diaz in this blog entry) finds herself in a bikini, and is outraged at the thought that Tom has seen her naked. And she should be outraged -- note to youth, it's not cool to drug people and then strip them naked when they are unconscious. But she gets back at Tom by doing the same to him (putting him in bathing shorts, though, not bikini bottoms, the latter would have fueled the Tom is Gay tabloids to no end, no doubt. Note to young females watching the movie: If you are drugged and wake up feeling violated, well, just get back at the man who did that to you by doing the same!).
Cam and Tom do have some chemistry between them. There's a cute scene (spoiler coming up at the end of this sentence) where they flirt on board a plane, Cam goes to the restroom to freshen up, and while she's psyching herself to hit on him, he goes about killing at least six people on the plane, oh FYI there were only six people in total to begin with, including two piliots. She's all ready to plant a big smooch on his lips and then they find themselves in the midst of a crash landing . . .
Tom is remarkably jacked in the film. It's a little bit scary. I thought bodies were supposed to get softer instead of harder in one's older age? Maybe there is hope for me yet. New role model in my life!
Anyway, the movie is silly. Like really silly. And you're not supposed to believe anything that happens, you're just supposed to suspend your disbelief and move willingly and happily from a car chase in Boston to a tiny island located in the middle of nowhere (incidentally, nowhere does have some cell phone reception) to a train ride in Salzburg. But it's asking too much of you -- it's not sexy, sleek and sophisticated enough to make you want to give up your bearings altogether.
* * *
This is the first in a series of posts about summer movies. Because I intend on watching a lot of movies this summer. I want to see Despicable Me next. Just because I think the 3-D animated character in the ads looks quite adorable, and I like the name of the movie.
So I will do a cultured thing and give you my review of Knight and Day. Which you should watch if you are drunk, or you really don't have anything to do and you want entertainment so mindless that only you yourself are to blame for the decision at the end.
Knight and Day, starring Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz, is a fun, action-packed summer thriller, involving plenty of car chases, improbable shooting scenes with big guns (including a scene where Ms. Diaz can't figure out how to stop firing bullets at Mr. Cruise -- hint, take your finger off the trigger instead of shrieking like a banshee). There is supposed to be witty repartee and sexual tension between the two characters (after being drugged, Cameron (no longer Ms. Diaz in this blog entry) finds herself in a bikini, and is outraged at the thought that Tom has seen her naked. And she should be outraged -- note to youth, it's not cool to drug people and then strip them naked when they are unconscious. But she gets back at Tom by doing the same to him (putting him in bathing shorts, though, not bikini bottoms, the latter would have fueled the Tom is Gay tabloids to no end, no doubt. Note to young females watching the movie: If you are drugged and wake up feeling violated, well, just get back at the man who did that to you by doing the same!).
Cam and Tom do have some chemistry between them. There's a cute scene (spoiler coming up at the end of this sentence) where they flirt on board a plane, Cam goes to the restroom to freshen up, and while she's psyching herself to hit on him, he goes about killing at least six people on the plane, oh FYI there were only six people in total to begin with, including two piliots. She's all ready to plant a big smooch on his lips and then they find themselves in the midst of a crash landing . . .
Tom is remarkably jacked in the film. It's a little bit scary. I thought bodies were supposed to get softer instead of harder in one's older age? Maybe there is hope for me yet. New role model in my life!
Anyway, the movie is silly. Like really silly. And you're not supposed to believe anything that happens, you're just supposed to suspend your disbelief and move willingly and happily from a car chase in Boston to a tiny island located in the middle of nowhere (incidentally, nowhere does have some cell phone reception) to a train ride in Salzburg. But it's asking too much of you -- it's not sexy, sleek and sophisticated enough to make you want to give up your bearings altogether.
* * *
This is the first in a series of posts about summer movies. Because I intend on watching a lot of movies this summer. I want to see Despicable Me next. Just because I think the 3-D animated character in the ads looks quite adorable, and I like the name of the movie.
Mad Men Season 4
Mad Men Season 4 is starting on July 25. I can't decide whether I should drink scotch or martinis while watching the show. I think they tend to drink more of the former (at least Don Draper does) but, well, martinis are my new drink of choice, namely because one of them will go to my head and leave me flat out drunk.
Summer time
Jeezmonster decided yesterday that she would inflict havoc on my work life and entice me out of work with a bottle of wine in Central Park while listening to the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. Off we went, despite the earlier rain shower, which left the ground just a wee bit damp. Astute forest rangers that we are, we managed not to get lost, and made our way to the Great Lawn. We got there just in time for the Shanghai Orchestra members to ring a ting ting with the triangle and fall on to the piano one or two times in thundering crescendos. And then silence. For like a very long time. The kind of long time that makes you wonder if you showed up too late and have missed the entire show.
But Jeezmonster is easily distracted by the glow sticks that were being sold to the little kids. And I whiled away the time drinking the bottle of wine and eating chocolate chip cookies that were not Famous Amos and stale chips.
Turns out that there was plenty more to listen to, including excerpts from snippets of songs from West Side Story and then Bolero, which might just be the the longest song in the history of the world. Actually, Jeezmonster and I decided to be adventurous, and try to break into the coveted seating area meant for VIP pass holders. Needless to say, we were not VIP pass holders, and, in case there was any doubt, we were caught within steps of swinging ourselves over the fenced-in area. Damn capitalists.
But Jeezmonster is easily distracted by the glow sticks that were being sold to the little kids. And I whiled away the time drinking the bottle of wine and eating chocolate chip cookies that were not Famous Amos and stale chips.
Turns out that there was plenty more to listen to, including excerpts from snippets of songs from West Side Story and then Bolero, which might just be the the longest song in the history of the world. Actually, Jeezmonster and I decided to be adventurous, and try to break into the coveted seating area meant for VIP pass holders. Needless to say, we were not VIP pass holders, and, in case there was any doubt, we were caught within steps of swinging ourselves over the fenced-in area. Damn capitalists.
Monday, July 12, 2010
July
And so we find ourselves in the second half of the year. I find myself in my fourth decade, I am now 30.
Turning 30 was significant. I know that age is just a number, it's a state of mind, etc. and etc. But milestones remain milestones; at the very least, they're a moment for reflecting.
Work is tremendously busy. Although even though I find myself at work late, late, late, I wonder what I have been doing there. Do you ever look back at ten or so hours and wonder, "What exactly have I been doing? I don't see anything on the page." Or the computer screen, as the case may be. I have some deadlines coming up later this week, and I just don't care. Don't get me wrong -- I went in this weekend, have been going through the motions, but . . . something is definitely lacking.
When I moved into my apartment, I told a friend, "All I want to do now is order Time, The Economist, The New Yorker, New York Magazine, and read books under a cozy lamp by my couch." And my friend reacted as follows: "All you should want to do now, as a home-owner of a two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan is go out on the town and try to get laid."
Something to consider as I trot off to bed.
Turning 30 was significant. I know that age is just a number, it's a state of mind, etc. and etc. But milestones remain milestones; at the very least, they're a moment for reflecting.
Work is tremendously busy. Although even though I find myself at work late, late, late, I wonder what I have been doing there. Do you ever look back at ten or so hours and wonder, "What exactly have I been doing? I don't see anything on the page." Or the computer screen, as the case may be. I have some deadlines coming up later this week, and I just don't care. Don't get me wrong -- I went in this weekend, have been going through the motions, but . . . something is definitely lacking.
When I moved into my apartment, I told a friend, "All I want to do now is order Time, The Economist, The New Yorker, New York Magazine, and read books under a cozy lamp by my couch." And my friend reacted as follows: "All you should want to do now, as a home-owner of a two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan is go out on the town and try to get laid."
Something to consider as I trot off to bed.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Metric
We measure lives by . . . accomplishments? age? others?
I've discovered a new (to me) singer -- Metric. I like a bunch of songs. In particular, Collect Call and Give Me Sympathy. I would link but for inability to do so.
Time flies. Suddenly you haven't blogged in ages. Which is disappointing. A friend said today, why don't you become a writer? Was momentarily excited and then realized that I could barely sustain a blog. Way to jump headfirst . . . with an eggshell skull.
Lots has happened since I last blogged. New round of guests have come to Casa Caveboy. In fact, I slept on the couch for 10 days. I saw the sun come up on a variety of occasions (I think work twice and fun once). I saw time fly by, while I (a) baked pear/ chocolate cake, (b) help make blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast,(c) make roast chicken (delicious -- I love http://wwww.smittenkitchen.com); (d) etc. and (e) etc.
I would blog more but I''m asleep on my feet.
And so I get carried away.
I've discovered a new (to me) singer -- Metric. I like a bunch of songs. In particular, Collect Call and Give Me Sympathy. I would link but for inability to do so.
Time flies. Suddenly you haven't blogged in ages. Which is disappointing. A friend said today, why don't you become a writer? Was momentarily excited and then realized that I could barely sustain a blog. Way to jump headfirst . . . with an eggshell skull.
Lots has happened since I last blogged. New round of guests have come to Casa Caveboy. In fact, I slept on the couch for 10 days. I saw the sun come up on a variety of occasions (I think work twice and fun once). I saw time fly by, while I (a) baked pear/ chocolate cake, (b) help make blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast,(c) make roast chicken (delicious -- I love http://wwww.smittenkitchen.com); (d) etc. and (e) etc.
I would blog more but I''m asleep on my feet.
And so I get carried away.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Trying to catch up
I thought, when I logged in, that my last post was about two weeks ago, sometime in mid-May. But, it turns out that I blogged at the end of May. It just feels like longer because so much has happened over the last 10 days. I'm exhausted thinking about it.
First things first, Lulu DC S was in town last weekend over Memorial Day. You name it, we did it. And if you named (a) mattress shopping at Macy's, but then deciding to go with 1-800-Mattress b/c they had (i) free delivery and (ii) the Macy's sales representative was a jerk; (b) watching our food get cooked in front of our very eyes at the chef's table at Hearth Restaurant; (c) watching a swinger's couple put out their feelers for fun and games at Employee's Only; (d) waiting in line for about 1/2 an hour to get Grimaldi's Pizza prior to walking over the Brooklyn Bridge, and buying a huge, huge straw hat while in said line (not me, L DC S); (e) listening to live music in a divey bar (prompting the question, "But where are the young professionals?"); (f) watching the most amazing and hilarious and bizarre exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art (including (i) grinding of body parts into the soil to fertilize the crops; (ii) massaging upper female body parts to induce rain; (iii) exposing lower female body parts to the skies to stop rain; (iv) being filmed screaming until you lose your voice; (v) being filmed dancing with a bag over your head until you pass out; (vi) finding men you thought were women and women you thought were men all over the place; and on and on and on), etc., well, then, you're right!
So much fun.
First things first, Lulu DC S was in town last weekend over Memorial Day. You name it, we did it. And if you named (a) mattress shopping at Macy's, but then deciding to go with 1-800-Mattress b/c they had (i) free delivery and (ii) the Macy's sales representative was a jerk; (b) watching our food get cooked in front of our very eyes at the chef's table at Hearth Restaurant; (c) watching a swinger's couple put out their feelers for fun and games at Employee's Only; (d) waiting in line for about 1/2 an hour to get Grimaldi's Pizza prior to walking over the Brooklyn Bridge, and buying a huge, huge straw hat while in said line (not me, L DC S); (e) listening to live music in a divey bar (prompting the question, "But where are the young professionals?"); (f) watching the most amazing and hilarious and bizarre exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art (including (i) grinding of body parts into the soil to fertilize the crops; (ii) massaging upper female body parts to induce rain; (iii) exposing lower female body parts to the skies to stop rain; (iv) being filmed screaming until you lose your voice; (v) being filmed dancing with a bag over your head until you pass out; (vi) finding men you thought were women and women you thought were men all over the place; and on and on and on), etc., well, then, you're right!
So much fun.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)