This past weekend, I was part of a team making a short for Campus MovieFest. I don't know about everyone else, but I had a great time. We came up with the scenario on Tuesday: A Luchador is fired from a realestate job because taking off the mask is unthinkable. Wandering dejected, the luchador passes a down-and-out gorilla and banana when a clown snatches the mask away. Horror fills the luchador until a Burt Reynolds type moustache is seen on the ground. It finds its way to her face, and we see her successful next to a picture of the man himself. Could there be a more awesome movie in the contest? I don't think so.
It took a good bit of time to edit, and the scoring went badly enough that we had it scored by someone else, but I have to say that assisting with the editing was a good bit of fun. I'd like to do more of it. I wish I would have known someone who was participating in this (BU doesn't) last year; it would have been a good time.
I've still not seen the finished product, and I'm quite eager. At any rate, joining the The Okie made me do it film cooperative was a very welcome break from the putrefaction of joy brought about by incessant analysis of films along stultifying lines of argument ridden into the ground long ago like a bomb between the legs of Maj. T.J. Kong.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Die Große Stille Part 2: Back to the Monastery
And the Lord passed by.
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart
and shattered the rocks before the Lord,
but the Lord was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake,
but the Lord was not in the earthquake.
After the earthquake came a fire,
but the Lord was not in the fire.
And after the fire came a gentle whisper.
1 Kings 19, 11-13
For a sort of introduction/background on this movie see my previous post on this film, my friend Devon's review, or the official website for the film. Also, I know the stills are small. If I find larger promo shots, I'll replace them.
I had the distinct pleasure of viewing this film for a second time on a cinema screen at the Harvard Film Archive, and as I sit here enjoying the order's namesake libation, I feel the overwhelming desire to put fingers to keyboard that I may lay down here further viewing notes, or what I like to call a sort of review.
On this second viewing, I found myself even more captivated than the first. I began noticing many small details I had missed the first time around. The framing of the human body echoing the topography of the mountains around the monastery and the architecture of the monks' chapel. The film's tendency to place ears in a prominent position, seeming to suggest the silence observed by these men allow them to hear something we cannot. Subtle nuances of shadow gradients down long corridors changing ever so slightly over the duration of a shot. Becoming more aware of how much each of the monks says to us during his close-up without saying a word. The many textures of water presented that I had overlooked. I believe I would be hard pressed to find a writer to do justice to the imagery and the emotional content it conveyed. I am certainly not up to the task.
Seeing the monks again was like seeing old friends. Following tonight's viewing I found myself feeling a sort of peace. I also had a very strong desire to watch the movie again. Despite seeing most, if not all, of what I had seen before, and noticing volumes more than I had previously seen, there was so much that I am certain I missed.
For those of you who may be reading this sometime recent to when it's posted, and that are close to New York (this means you, Brandon), I highly recommend seeing this movie. Well, so long as it seems to be your sort of thing. If not, please, please, please do something else. Don't be like the annoying girl two rows in front of me with her mobile phone open, texting or whatever she was doing and bothering those close enough behind her to see the blue glow of the phone's lcd screen.
Anyway, those of you near New York for whom a three hour, nearly silent, meditative delving into the life of an ascetic clerical order sounds appealing are in luck. This movie is scheduled to be playing at Film Forum 209 W. Houston St. in NYC from February 23 through March 13. Show times are listed as 13:15, 17:30, and 20:30. If I summon the wherewithal, you might just see me at one of the screenings.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
New Year's
New Year's Eve rolled around again, as it tends to do periodically, and we indulged in a more recent family tradition. A few years ago, the fast food chain Chick-fil-a began selling calendars with coupons for their products inside. The coupons for December were for a free small brownie tray with the purchase of a large chicken nugget tray. As Chick-fil-a nuggets are very tasty, and my dad would not pass up using such a coupon once he had it, we got the tray of nuggets for New Year's. It lasted for at least a week afterward (roughly 250 come on a large tray). Despite the incentive turning from a brownie tray to a gallon of tea, we have continued to get a nugget tray for New Year's.
The nuggets this year, as usual, were quite enjoyable. My parents stayed in for the evening and caught the small fireworks display that appears annually at the top of the mountain. I rang in the new year with a large number of friends and acquaintances at a bar called the Metropolitan. It was a decent enough place. The garlic-chipotle stuffed olives made for an interesting flavor in the gin martinis. I also found out that I had won a friend over to the Ciroc vodka camp (If you're looking for quality vodka, Ciroc is where it's at). The hostess ended up being the waitress for our group, and she did rather well accomodating us. The night was relatively uneventful, except for Karl losing his phone and the guy who found it being kind enough to call one of the numbers in it to arrange its return, and around 01:00 we adjourned.
I got to work with Forrest again at kung fu class again on the first. He's a really good guy, and it looks like some good things could be lining up for him soon. If things work out, I'd be quite happy for him; they couldn't happen to a better person.
I've forgotten most of what I did between the first and the fifth, so we'll just leave that bit out. I think sudoku was involved in there somewhere though. Anyway, there was a get together to be attended on the fifth with more friends I don't run into nearly enough either online or off. It had snowed a little more in the mean time, so I wasn't taking any chances, what with being somewhat rusty at driving after nearly a year with no practice, and decided to make it a dry evening. It was fun seeing everyone and bonding with John and Christina over our displeasure that American cigarette packs lack the lovely pictures of diseased body parts to be found on cigarette packs in Canada and Australia.
Saturday was supposed to be a day to hang out with friends as well as family before flying out on Sunday, but a bit more snow said no to the friends portion. I spent the day with my family, doing various things around the house, including figuring out exactly what I could and couldn't fit in my luggage for the return trip. That evening we went to see Perfume: The Story of a Murderer.
In short, Perfume is the tale of a young man who, as a result of being abandoned to die in the fetid streets of Paris at birth by his mother, develops the ability to discern every element of a scent no matter how small. Something like being able to smell the difference between two different lichens residing next to each other on a rock 300 yards distant would be an effortless feat for him. Being an orphan, he is, of course, abused and put in any number of unpleasnt places, which he just takes as his lot in life. Then, one day, he catches the scent of a beautiful young woman, and becomes obsessed.
Hers is the most pleasant scent he's ever experienced, but he hasn't the words to express this to her when she notices him smelling her. Consequently, she gets severely creeped out and runs away. He, of course, follows her scent to where she went. She notices his presence again just as two people stumble through the alley. Covering her mouth to stifle a scream of alarm, he accidentally kills her only to find that the scent that had so intoxicated him fled quickly afterward.
That's the first bit of the film, the rest concerns his apprenticing to become a perfumer so he can learn the secrets of capturing scent. I'm sure after just reading the above any number of possible readings jump to the fore, but I'll not offer one. One of the issues most talked about with regard to this adaptation is how it would be possible to transfer the intricate discriptions of smell from the book into visual equivilancies. It seems they've done it well enough. I'd encourage anyone reading to give it a look. I intend to see it again, if only to get a firm grasp on my opinion. The only question is if I'll find it in a cinema or have to wait for Netflix.
Sunday, 7 January found me back in Boston before midnight. Now, I get to go to one class I'd really rather not be in, and I get to decide if I want to play the odds in the job market doing what-have-you to pay the bills, or if I'd like to go another $25-30K in debt trying to land some relatively low-paying job through BU's L.A. internship program in the Fall.
Decisions, Decisions.
The nuggets this year, as usual, were quite enjoyable. My parents stayed in for the evening and caught the small fireworks display that appears annually at the top of the mountain. I rang in the new year with a large number of friends and acquaintances at a bar called the Metropolitan. It was a decent enough place. The garlic-chipotle stuffed olives made for an interesting flavor in the gin martinis. I also found out that I had won a friend over to the Ciroc vodka camp (If you're looking for quality vodka, Ciroc is where it's at). The hostess ended up being the waitress for our group, and she did rather well accomodating us. The night was relatively uneventful, except for Karl losing his phone and the guy who found it being kind enough to call one of the numbers in it to arrange its return, and around 01:00 we adjourned.
I got to work with Forrest again at kung fu class again on the first. He's a really good guy, and it looks like some good things could be lining up for him soon. If things work out, I'd be quite happy for him; they couldn't happen to a better person.
I've forgotten most of what I did between the first and the fifth, so we'll just leave that bit out. I think sudoku was involved in there somewhere though. Anyway, there was a get together to be attended on the fifth with more friends I don't run into nearly enough either online or off. It had snowed a little more in the mean time, so I wasn't taking any chances, what with being somewhat rusty at driving after nearly a year with no practice, and decided to make it a dry evening. It was fun seeing everyone and bonding with John and Christina over our displeasure that American cigarette packs lack the lovely pictures of diseased body parts to be found on cigarette packs in Canada and Australia.
Saturday was supposed to be a day to hang out with friends as well as family before flying out on Sunday, but a bit more snow said no to the friends portion. I spent the day with my family, doing various things around the house, including figuring out exactly what I could and couldn't fit in my luggage for the return trip. That evening we went to see Perfume: The Story of a Murderer.
In short, Perfume is the tale of a young man who, as a result of being abandoned to die in the fetid streets of Paris at birth by his mother, develops the ability to discern every element of a scent no matter how small. Something like being able to smell the difference between two different lichens residing next to each other on a rock 300 yards distant would be an effortless feat for him. Being an orphan, he is, of course, abused and put in any number of unpleasnt places, which he just takes as his lot in life. Then, one day, he catches the scent of a beautiful young woman, and becomes obsessed.
Hers is the most pleasant scent he's ever experienced, but he hasn't the words to express this to her when she notices him smelling her. Consequently, she gets severely creeped out and runs away. He, of course, follows her scent to where she went. She notices his presence again just as two people stumble through the alley. Covering her mouth to stifle a scream of alarm, he accidentally kills her only to find that the scent that had so intoxicated him fled quickly afterward.
That's the first bit of the film, the rest concerns his apprenticing to become a perfumer so he can learn the secrets of capturing scent. I'm sure after just reading the above any number of possible readings jump to the fore, but I'll not offer one. One of the issues most talked about with regard to this adaptation is how it would be possible to transfer the intricate discriptions of smell from the book into visual equivilancies. It seems they've done it well enough. I'd encourage anyone reading to give it a look. I intend to see it again, if only to get a firm grasp on my opinion. The only question is if I'll find it in a cinema or have to wait for Netflix.
Sunday, 7 January found me back in Boston before midnight. Now, I get to go to one class I'd really rather not be in, and I get to decide if I want to play the odds in the job market doing what-have-you to pay the bills, or if I'd like to go another $25-30K in debt trying to land some relatively low-paying job through BU's L.A. internship program in the Fall.
Decisions, Decisions.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Christmas
On Christmas Eve, we did what we've been doing for pretty much as long as I can remember: drove around looking at people's Christmas light displays. This year was a little different from the previous years, however. Usually there will be at least one pizza shop open ungodly hours on Christmas Eve, and we will typically get a pizza or two to enjoy during our journey. This year, there wasn't even one open. It was highly disappointing. But we did the gazing anyway, and it was an enjoyable family time.
Christmas was good. After the last post, I'm sure I don't have to say it was a white Christmas. Everyone seemed to like the gifts I got for them. My sister was a little taken aback at first with her kangaroo scrotum coin purse I brought back from Australia, but she eventually warmed to it. The shirt I got for my dad fit quite well and looked good on him, and I'm hoping my mother will actually like the wines I brought for her once she tries them.
I was gifted with a number of things that I quite enjoy. Some of the dried fruit tray is still around, surprisingly, and the book of extraordinary facts and interesting random information that my sister got me for my birthday sees use every day. Eventually, everyone I see on a daily, or more infrequent, basis will be subjected to the massive amount of information I will glean from that book over time. I could list off all of the great things I was given for the holiday, but I just don't think lists like that are my style.
My mother prepared a very tasty Christmas lunch/dinner. I offered to assist, but as is often the case, she said I wasn't needed in the kitchen and should relax. I ate more than I should have, but it was too good to stop.
A few days later, I found out exactly how atrophied my martial arts skills have become when I went to kung fu class. We did some slow speed, bare knuckle sparring, and I found out that both my defensive and offensive skills are quite a bit lesser than they used to be. It was a good time, and I was lucky enough to get to go back a number of times before I returned to Boston. The next day I was snowed in until the weekend.
On the thirtieth, my friends Jon, Mike, and I gorged ourselves on some of the best sushi I've had. Surprisingly enough, it came from a place in Colorado Springs. Shinji's Sushi Bar is awesome. Shinji is great, and so is the food he makes. Mike works there as a waiter and did the ordering for us, so I don't recall the names of the items we ate. Well, except one, the Jake #1 roll. It was stupendously good. At any rate, much of what we ate wasn't on the menu because at least half of what Mike ordered was written in as "chef's choice." These choices were awesome as was the miso soup, seaweed salad (complete with bits of jellyfish), premium sake, and anything I'm forgetting to list. Shinji's is also one of the few Japanese owned and operated sushi shops in the area.
If you're in Colorado Springs and looking for sushi, go to Shinji's. Just don't go when my friends and I are there having chef's choice sushi. We arrived when there were few people. The place filled up with people when Shinji was less than half way through our orders. Many of those people were waiting 30 minutes or more thanks to us. It was somewhat entertaining.
After sushi, we visited our friend and kung fu teacher Ren. We had some beers, chatted a bit, and watched some of a Zeppelin live DVD. It was a very good time, and I was a bit disappointed that I didn't get to hang out with him again this trip.
Is it new year's eve already?
Christmas was good. After the last post, I'm sure I don't have to say it was a white Christmas. Everyone seemed to like the gifts I got for them. My sister was a little taken aback at first with her kangaroo scrotum coin purse I brought back from Australia, but she eventually warmed to it. The shirt I got for my dad fit quite well and looked good on him, and I'm hoping my mother will actually like the wines I brought for her once she tries them.
I was gifted with a number of things that I quite enjoy. Some of the dried fruit tray is still around, surprisingly, and the book of extraordinary facts and interesting random information that my sister got me for my birthday sees use every day. Eventually, everyone I see on a daily, or more infrequent, basis will be subjected to the massive amount of information I will glean from that book over time. I could list off all of the great things I was given for the holiday, but I just don't think lists like that are my style.
My mother prepared a very tasty Christmas lunch/dinner. I offered to assist, but as is often the case, she said I wasn't needed in the kitchen and should relax. I ate more than I should have, but it was too good to stop.
A few days later, I found out exactly how atrophied my martial arts skills have become when I went to kung fu class. We did some slow speed, bare knuckle sparring, and I found out that both my defensive and offensive skills are quite a bit lesser than they used to be. It was a good time, and I was lucky enough to get to go back a number of times before I returned to Boston. The next day I was snowed in until the weekend.
On the thirtieth, my friends Jon, Mike, and I gorged ourselves on some of the best sushi I've had. Surprisingly enough, it came from a place in Colorado Springs. Shinji's Sushi Bar is awesome. Shinji is great, and so is the food he makes. Mike works there as a waiter and did the ordering for us, so I don't recall the names of the items we ate. Well, except one, the Jake #1 roll. It was stupendously good. At any rate, much of what we ate wasn't on the menu because at least half of what Mike ordered was written in as "chef's choice." These choices were awesome as was the miso soup, seaweed salad (complete with bits of jellyfish), premium sake, and anything I'm forgetting to list. Shinji's is also one of the few Japanese owned and operated sushi shops in the area.
If you're in Colorado Springs and looking for sushi, go to Shinji's. Just don't go when my friends and I are there having chef's choice sushi. We arrived when there were few people. The place filled up with people when Shinji was less than half way through our orders. Many of those people were waiting 30 minutes or more thanks to us. It was somewhat entertaining.
After sushi, we visited our friend and kung fu teacher Ren. We had some beers, chatted a bit, and watched some of a Zeppelin live DVD. It was a very good time, and I was a bit disappointed that I didn't get to hang out with him again this trip.
Is it new year's eve already?
Friday, January 12, 2007
White Power
The picture(s) to be added to this post will enhance the descriptive effect of my words. Anyway, the day after I arrived back home (I believe it all started Tuesday, but it could have been Wednesday), the snow, which I found to be my greatest enemy of the holidays, arrived. It snowed for two days without stopping. Escape was impossible even in the four wheel drive pickup truck. When the snow finally stopped, I decided to dig out the whole driveway and car parking area (I was visiting my family, it's the least I could do). I shoveled more than 2000 cubic feet of snow that day,at 8000+ feet in elevation, coming directly from a year spent at sea level. I was amazed I didn't faint or have a heart attack.
The same thing happened the next week. Another two days of snow. Another two feet of snow in the driveway (approximately. Some spots had more, some less). This time, though, I had been out in my Saturn when the snow started. Arriving home, the snow was too deep for my car to make it up the grade of the driveway, and I had to leave it sitting in the way. Luckily, it was far enough in from the road that my parents were able to pull their truck in behind it and out of the street. We tried to clear the snow away while it was still coming down, and while this might be a smart decision most other times, the snow was coming down too heavily to fix anything despite removing the at least eighteen inches of snow already accumulated. My father helped me shovel at least half of what was out there this second time.
To top it all off, it snowed again the last Friday I was in town there. Luckily, it was only a few inches, or I would have missed the last opportunity I had to meet up with my friends from back there for last/this year. At least I wasn't stuck at an airport for days at a time, trying to get somewhere for Christmas. I was, however, held hostage by the weather for six (more?) days.
Not that I'd have necessarily done anything all that interesting with the time, but it would have been an option. I did use a couple of those days to chisel off the nut holding one of the kitchen sink strainers and half fix the leak it was having. It would have been fixed entirely except the silicone sealant I tried to use was too old and did not provide a good enough seal.
Next up: Christmas
The same thing happened the next week. Another two days of snow. Another two feet of snow in the driveway (approximately. Some spots had more, some less). This time, though, I had been out in my Saturn when the snow started. Arriving home, the snow was too deep for my car to make it up the grade of the driveway, and I had to leave it sitting in the way. Luckily, it was far enough in from the road that my parents were able to pull their truck in behind it and out of the street. We tried to clear the snow away while it was still coming down, and while this might be a smart decision most other times, the snow was coming down too heavily to fix anything despite removing the at least eighteen inches of snow already accumulated. My father helped me shovel at least half of what was out there this second time.
To top it all off, it snowed again the last Friday I was in town there. Luckily, it was only a few inches, or I would have missed the last opportunity I had to meet up with my friends from back there for last/this year. At least I wasn't stuck at an airport for days at a time, trying to get somewhere for Christmas. I was, however, held hostage by the weather for six (more?) days.
Not that I'd have necessarily done anything all that interesting with the time, but it would have been an option. I did use a couple of those days to chisel off the nut holding one of the kitchen sink strainers and half fix the leak it was having. It would have been fixed entirely except the silicone sealant I tried to use was too old and did not provide a good enough seal.
Next up: Christmas
Monday, January 08, 2007
Very Far Behind
I am entirely too far behind in posting. There should have been a post about spending Thanksgiving with a friend and his family, drinking a bit of beer, eating a lot of very good food, and standing in the cold rain around a fire, but I neglected to write one. There should also have been an entry about watching the Jan Svankmajer film Otesánek (See it. There's a creepy old guy with a thing for a little girl, general obsession with children, a wooden doll that comes alive, and much more), but I failed to do that too.
There would have been an entry about Children of Men back around 30 November that was to have been titled something like "The Second Coming is as a Little Black Girl" (The movie was pretty good. Our heroes: hippies, a former activist unhappy in his new corporate/government job, and people who don't use guns. The potential savior of mankind is a baby black girl. The long takes are great), but, again, I waited too long for the ideas to remain fresh.
I probably should have put something down about the Christmas formal, Toys for Tots, or my birthday nights out, but that's not happening now either. I didn't fail any of my classes in the last semester, and that's about all that'll be said about the fin de semestre.
I went home for Christmas. I intended to write a post about the snow issues, among other things, and I think I still will. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Two or three entries about my Christmas and New Year's doings are forthcoming and might even make it here before the new semester starts.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Movies
There should be two reviews, or as close to reviews as I get, here. I saw Fast Food Nation on 14 November, but I just didn't feel too terribly strongly about it. Perhaps it's because I'm not the film's target audience. I know illegal immigrants are taken advantage of by people looking to lower their costs to maximize their profits. Yes, the fast food corporations turn a blind eye to the corners cut by their suppliers for the same reasons. No, letter writing is not enough when your numbers are too small to prevent an elected representative's reelection and said representative has ties to the offending parties.
Maybe this has come through observation, maybe through listening to interviews and commentary on the book of the same name. Whatever the source, it wasn't news to me when I saw it in the film. Also, the shots from the killing floor of the slaughterhouse seemed intended to shock and unsettle, but they did very little in the way of unsettling this viewer.
The unsettling bit was the mechanized nature of the operation. There was no reverence for the animal. It can't be afforded if we want meat at low, low prices. For contrast, take a look at the abattoir section of Workingman's Death. It is an entirely different experience.
On a more positive note, I felt that the performances were decent (I'll admit it, I liked Wilmer Valderrama as the hardworking illegal just trying to get by, and I love Luis Guzman on principle, just to mention two specifics), they refrained from making the people we aren't intended to like super-horrible caricatures, and it was guilty fun recognizing all of the New Belgium beers that appeared in the film without having them mentioned by name or having the bottles foregrounded (I recognized Fat Tire before it was said, you'll also see Sunshine Wheat, 1554, and Abbey Ale if my eyes didn't deceive me or miss any). Thank goodness I drank good, local beers while in Colorado, or I'd not have noticed a great attempt by (what must now be) a regional brewery to grow its brand by orders of magnitude. If those beers are stocked in your area, check them out.
Now for movie number two:
I have to agree with my friend Brandon that Casino Royale is one of the best Bond movies. As I'm writing this, I have deliberately not read his, no doubt, much better and far more professional review because I know he will have said many of the same things better, and many other things that would inevitably creep into what I'm typing now simply because I'd want to sound better than I already do. Sorry, Brandon, it's my first stop once this is posted.
At any rate, I have to admit that I have a soft spot in my heart for the original Casino Royale. It has Peter Sellers, Woody Allen, Orson Welles, David Niven, more attractive women than you can shake a stick at (I defy you to shake a stick at a greater number of attractive women than you find in this film. It is an impossibility), and much much more. It even has psychedelic prison rooms like you'd find in Modesty Blaise. I want to mention everything else in it, but that's not the intent of this section.
I was ready for the new Casino Royale to disappoint, despite having Mads Mikkelsen playing Le Chiffre. It completely overturned my expectations. The film opens on James Bond receiving double 0 status as he makes his second confirmed kill. He's not yet the always cool, smooth secret agent, as we see in grainy (I suppose I'd call it gritty) flashbacks to kill number one. Bond gets his promotion and, with a few Bond mainstays like using whatever is at hand to accomplish his goals in the way that is most embarrassing to his superiors, embarks on the primary mission of the film: to stop Le Chiffre, a banker for insurgent groups around the world, from retrieving money he lost (due to Bond's actions) in a high stakes poker game.
The plot should be simple, but complicated by character. As this is a prequel to the other James Bond movies, it focuses more on how he comes to be the superspy we encounter in the other films. We see his evolution from somewhat hotheaded to calm and poised in two and three-quarter hours.
He actually has a serious romantic interest, not just another in the line of disposable dames. This was, surprisingly or not, the part of the movie where I felt things lagged a bit. The dialogue was too on the nose and at times saccharine. I definitely think the events were necessary for the character, but the way they were portrayed seems to point to a fear that the audience wouldn't sit through the extra time needed to flesh them out.
The camera work was nice. On more than one occasion it adjusts its perspective to that of Bond (the gritty black and white of the first killing, the overexposure and blur after drinking the spiked martini).
Also interesting is the aspect of anticipation. Because this is a prequel, we know certain things must or must not happen and we wait for some to start and others to end. We've seen, at least some of, the other films, so certain twists can be almost certainly included only to further character development. I find that rather clever at the moment.
James is even sexualized as much as the women in the movie. Well, if your metric for sexualization is the amount of screen time devoted to a given character's body as eye candy. We see more of him than anyone else.
In one sentence: I'd recommend it.
Alright, it's getting late for me, considering I have to be up entirely too early for a student, and I'm not sure if that all reads well or makes sense, but it is what is there, and I doubt I'll edit it. I'm sure I'd write more thorough, professional reviews if I wasn't currently caught up in the mindset that I'd rather have an actual conversation about a movie than attempt to have one in my head and write all the answers without the interactive questioning.
I also realized I only have something like two weeks left to prepare my final assignments. Hello new home in Copley Place named Boston Public Library, and hello undue stress brought on by procrastination. It's been a little while. Glad to once again make your acquaintance, old friend.
Maybe this has come through observation, maybe through listening to interviews and commentary on the book of the same name. Whatever the source, it wasn't news to me when I saw it in the film. Also, the shots from the killing floor of the slaughterhouse seemed intended to shock and unsettle, but they did very little in the way of unsettling this viewer.
The unsettling bit was the mechanized nature of the operation. There was no reverence for the animal. It can't be afforded if we want meat at low, low prices. For contrast, take a look at the abattoir section of Workingman's Death. It is an entirely different experience.
On a more positive note, I felt that the performances were decent (I'll admit it, I liked Wilmer Valderrama as the hardworking illegal just trying to get by, and I love Luis Guzman on principle, just to mention two specifics), they refrained from making the people we aren't intended to like super-horrible caricatures, and it was guilty fun recognizing all of the New Belgium beers that appeared in the film without having them mentioned by name or having the bottles foregrounded (I recognized Fat Tire before it was said, you'll also see Sunshine Wheat, 1554, and Abbey Ale if my eyes didn't deceive me or miss any). Thank goodness I drank good, local beers while in Colorado, or I'd not have noticed a great attempt by (what must now be) a regional brewery to grow its brand by orders of magnitude. If those beers are stocked in your area, check them out.
Now for movie number two:
I have to agree with my friend Brandon that Casino Royale is one of the best Bond movies. As I'm writing this, I have deliberately not read his, no doubt, much better and far more professional review because I know he will have said many of the same things better, and many other things that would inevitably creep into what I'm typing now simply because I'd want to sound better than I already do. Sorry, Brandon, it's my first stop once this is posted.
At any rate, I have to admit that I have a soft spot in my heart for the original Casino Royale. It has Peter Sellers, Woody Allen, Orson Welles, David Niven, more attractive women than you can shake a stick at (I defy you to shake a stick at a greater number of attractive women than you find in this film. It is an impossibility), and much much more. It even has psychedelic prison rooms like you'd find in Modesty Blaise. I want to mention everything else in it, but that's not the intent of this section.
I was ready for the new Casino Royale to disappoint, despite having Mads Mikkelsen playing Le Chiffre. It completely overturned my expectations. The film opens on James Bond receiving double 0 status as he makes his second confirmed kill. He's not yet the always cool, smooth secret agent, as we see in grainy (I suppose I'd call it gritty) flashbacks to kill number one. Bond gets his promotion and, with a few Bond mainstays like using whatever is at hand to accomplish his goals in the way that is most embarrassing to his superiors, embarks on the primary mission of the film: to stop Le Chiffre, a banker for insurgent groups around the world, from retrieving money he lost (due to Bond's actions) in a high stakes poker game.
The plot should be simple, but complicated by character. As this is a prequel to the other James Bond movies, it focuses more on how he comes to be the superspy we encounter in the other films. We see his evolution from somewhat hotheaded to calm and poised in two and three-quarter hours.
He actually has a serious romantic interest, not just another in the line of disposable dames. This was, surprisingly or not, the part of the movie where I felt things lagged a bit. The dialogue was too on the nose and at times saccharine. I definitely think the events were necessary for the character, but the way they were portrayed seems to point to a fear that the audience wouldn't sit through the extra time needed to flesh them out.
The camera work was nice. On more than one occasion it adjusts its perspective to that of Bond (the gritty black and white of the first killing, the overexposure and blur after drinking the spiked martini).
Also interesting is the aspect of anticipation. Because this is a prequel, we know certain things must or must not happen and we wait for some to start and others to end. We've seen, at least some of, the other films, so certain twists can be almost certainly included only to further character development. I find that rather clever at the moment.
James is even sexualized as much as the women in the movie. Well, if your metric for sexualization is the amount of screen time devoted to a given character's body as eye candy. We see more of him than anyone else.
In one sentence: I'd recommend it.
Alright, it's getting late for me, considering I have to be up entirely too early for a student, and I'm not sure if that all reads well or makes sense, but it is what is there, and I doubt I'll edit it. I'm sure I'd write more thorough, professional reviews if I wasn't currently caught up in the mindset that I'd rather have an actual conversation about a movie than attempt to have one in my head and write all the answers without the interactive questioning.
I also realized I only have something like two weeks left to prepare my final assignments. Hello new home in Copley Place named Boston Public Library, and hello undue stress brought on by procrastination. It's been a little while. Glad to once again make your acquaintance, old friend.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Wolverines!
I really should be asleep right now, since I have to be up at 06:00 to get to work on time, but I just can't help myself. I just finished watching Red Dawn. Yes, that Red Dawn; the one from the 80s.
It was totally awesome! I'd almost forgotten how much fun these sorts of Cold War paranoia movies could be. If I were taking American Masterworks, I would write my final on this film. It has everything: invasion of a small town in the American Rocky Mountains, heartless Soviet paratroopers, former Cuban rebels turned regulars who become disillusioned because of the, executions of civilians (a surprising number for it being a small town), high school kids as guerilla fighters, who completely upstage trained professionals, Powers Boothe, Cuban communists realising the Russians aren't really the same sort of communists, Patrick Swayze trying to act with feeling, Red China's on the side of the good ole' USA, sacrificial diversions, it just goes on and on.
Did I mention the sheer number of people killed by the Wolverines? Probably not. They're foreigners occupying our land by force of arms, not real people, so it doesn't matter. They have superior weapons and numbers? They'll underestimate the abilities of a small group of teens with hunting rifles and a former high school quarterback to lead them. Once you kill a few, take their weapons and kill more until they go back where they came from. Infiltrate their safe zones and blow things up. It doesn't matter if you're not part of the military; this is our country! Those Commies can get out or die.
I'm sure we all remember the exchange between Matt and Jed as Jed is about to execute a Russian prisoner and their fellow Wolverine, Daryl, for treason:
Matt (referring to the invaders): What makes us different from them?And just because it is one of the greatest lines in the history of cinema:
Jed: We live here.
Lt. Col. Tanner: All that hate's gonna burn you up, kid.I'd totally want to be a Wolverine.
Robert: Keeps me warm.
All the fun and throw back to the Cold War 80s paranoia aside, as we think about our heroes in this movie, does anyone notice what Peet McKimmie at IMDB does?
Also seriously, John Milius, Kevin Reynolds, you guys are great. All the Americana + Soviet paratroops out of nowhere = brilliance.
Friday, October 13, 2006
I Just Might end up Failing
Yesterday, I presented on Jean Renoir's The River for my International Masterworks class. The T.A. for the course had initially given me a DVD copy of Tsai Ming-Liang's The River, and I had toyed with the idea of being cheeky and presenting on it instead, but after I saw Renoir's film, I simply had to present on that one.
The film was horrible overall. I felt as if there were little demons inside my skull stabbing the backs of my eyes with hot needles through at least seventy percent of the film. I should probably write up some sort of coherent and intelligent rebuke of the film, but I am actively trying to forget all but the non-needle-painful bits.
Sadly, I don't remember exactly what I said during my presentation. I mentioned, extremely briefly, a little of Renoir's biography. It was brief because we had covered him in decent detail earlier in the course. I spent a little time on new research by a Canadian scholar that used F.B.I. records to find that Renoir actually had been politically active while in the U.S.A., all accounts, including his own autobiography, to the contrary. (It was actually fairly interesting for me, once I got past all the psychoanalysis [which, if you know me, you know is one of my many annoyances] and can be found here at the time of writing.)
I, then, briefly summarized a good review of the film. Well, I quite poorly summarized the review and went on to show one of the most pain-inducing clips I could think of as exemplary of the film as a whole. I followed the clips with, "Yeah..that is why this presentation will be less than scholarly. I was in physical pain while viewing this film, and I could not force myself to watch it the multiple times required to achieve critical distance." I'm a little fuzzy on the exactness of the end of that quote, but if that's not completely accurate, it's close enough. To imagine what the rest of the presentation was like, here are the notes I was using for reference while I was up there (all chapter numbers are from the Criterion DVD):
In long-form short, if you're feeling masochistic, don't watch this film. I'll be happy to drop by and slap you around a bit or hit you with a paddle. If you're feeling more masochistic than that, I suppose you could take a look at The River.
Also, to any of you impressionable first year B.U. film studies grads, it's not a very good idea to spring this sort of thing on your professor. I'd opt for the route Devon took. It seemed much more productive.
But it was kind of fun...
The film was horrible overall. I felt as if there were little demons inside my skull stabbing the backs of my eyes with hot needles through at least seventy percent of the film. I should probably write up some sort of coherent and intelligent rebuke of the film, but I am actively trying to forget all but the non-needle-painful bits.
Sadly, I don't remember exactly what I said during my presentation. I mentioned, extremely briefly, a little of Renoir's biography. It was brief because we had covered him in decent detail earlier in the course. I spent a little time on new research by a Canadian scholar that used F.B.I. records to find that Renoir actually had been politically active while in the U.S.A., all accounts, including his own autobiography, to the contrary. (It was actually fairly interesting for me, once I got past all the psychoanalysis [which, if you know me, you know is one of my many annoyances] and can be found here at the time of writing.)
I, then, briefly summarized a good review of the film. Well, I quite poorly summarized the review and went on to show one of the most pain-inducing clips I could think of as exemplary of the film as a whole. I followed the clips with, "Yeah..that is why this presentation will be less than scholarly. I was in physical pain while viewing this film, and I could not force myself to watch it the multiple times required to achieve critical distance." I'm a little fuzzy on the exactness of the end of that quote, but if that's not completely accurate, it's close enough. To imagine what the rest of the presentation was like, here are the notes I was using for reference while I was up there (all chapter numbers are from the Criterion DVD):
Intro: Hi, it's me and this is what I'm talking about. Why not cheeky?
Renoir: Biography in brief to RiverTalk about F.B.I. stuff in Faulkner article: said wasn't politically active, but 200(+) pages of cross-listed references in F.B.I. files say differently.Affiliated with such politically active groups as: People's Education Association (Ben Barzman lost U.S. passport for affiliation with PEA), League of American Writers, Joint Anti-Fascist Refugee Committee, Council of American-Soviet Friendship.
The RiverRenoir got the idea to do River after reading a New Yorker review saying it was probably the best English language novel to come out in years and no one would probably read it.
Read good review of River, show awful clip (ch. 13)
Speak on capricious nature of "masterworks" canons. Poll audience opinion?
Explanation of why presentation is less than scholarlyPhysical pain while watching scenes like example scene prevented further viewing. Lack of substantive writing where I looked.
Not all badSomething there in a crippled American not knowing what he wants while being desired by all and breaking their hearts. India not sure where it belongs: traditional or toward the British. Know enough not to mess with dangerous things you've no experience with in a place that isn't your home.
Oases of analgesia amidst the pain a.k.a. good sequences (chs. 4[?], 9 [if you can get past the voiceover], 15)
Indian filmmakers like Satyajit Ray, among others, got their start in film working on this movie.
Showed you could make a movie in India, vaguely about India, and it didn't have to include tigers, elephants, or Bengal lancers.
Talk Derrida archive stuff from Faulkner: Despite the good bits I fully intend to actively purge majority of film from my mental archive.
Questions/Comments/Criticisms/Declarations of Vendetta?
In long-form short, if you're feeling masochistic, don't watch this film. I'll be happy to drop by and slap you around a bit or hit you with a paddle. If you're feeling more masochistic than that, I suppose you could take a look at The River.
Also, to any of you impressionable first year B.U. film studies grads, it's not a very good idea to spring this sort of thing on your professor. I'd opt for the route Devon took. It seemed much more productive.
But it was kind of fun...
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Pet Peeves: an Ongoing Saga
Well, today I attended the second half of the Matthias Müller conference. There were, of course, papers presented during this conference, and one of them spurred me to write a somewhat spirited bit of response. Well, not really response, but more a reaction to what I felt was a heavy part of the argument: medium specificity.
Is there actually medium specificity? Of course, painting and sculpture do a poor job of delivering music, but aside from such ridiculousness, media are far less specific than many would like.
There is nothing much more special in one medium over another. Celluloid vs. digital video, vinyl record vs. compact disc, &c. arguments over which is inherently superior in its ability to capture and communicate things have very little merit. Each has its place and use. Some register certain aspects of their subject better than their counterparts, and fail to register others as well as does the counterpart. This does not make one superior to the others except insofar as someone may desire to utilize a particular strength at a particular time.
Arguments of which should exist and which fall by the wayside, or that insist on an overall superiority of one or another, are simply intellectual masturbation. Tools are there to be used. The more tools one has in the toolchest, the greater the number of creative possibilities in one's output.
At least as far as I'm concerned.
Is there actually medium specificity? Of course, painting and sculpture do a poor job of delivering music, but aside from such ridiculousness, media are far less specific than many would like.
There is nothing much more special in one medium over another. Celluloid vs. digital video, vinyl record vs. compact disc, &c. arguments over which is inherently superior in its ability to capture and communicate things have very little merit. Each has its place and use. Some register certain aspects of their subject better than their counterparts, and fail to register others as well as does the counterpart. This does not make one superior to the others except insofar as someone may desire to utilize a particular strength at a particular time.
Arguments of which should exist and which fall by the wayside, or that insist on an overall superiority of one or another, are simply intellectual masturbation. Tools are there to be used. The more tools one has in the toolchest, the greater the number of creative possibilities in one's output.
At least as far as I'm concerned.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Travelogue Day 56
18/7/06
I arrive back in Boston a little before 07:00, and they've sent this plane's luggage to the wrong claim too. I notice that one of my bags feels light and have a moment of dread the though of broken wine bottles. I walk outside the terminal, and it's already just as hot at this early hour as it had been in L.A. at midday, and with more humidity. I'm not prepared for this.
I got a cab, and the driver is rather pleasant. We talk about how the people who sold the faulty product to the Big Dig should be prosecuted and the intricacies of driving now that the section of tunnel connecting to I-90 has been shut down because of the falling concrete that killed a woman. Even with the detours, the cab ride costs roughly what I expected. My apartment is pretty much how I left it. There seems to have been an issue with the plumbing. Nothing is water damaged, but dirt rings in various places around the sink indicate there's a story here. I open one bag to the smell of overexposed wine. The good news? Only one bottle was broken (shattered into tiny pieces actually). The bad news? All clothing in that suitcase was soaked in semillon and needed washing.
My other suitcase fared somewhat better. Both bottles of wine were intact, but my hair conditioner exploded through its Ziploc bag. Luckily, the fallout was contained to my coat and some socks. They are easily cleanable.
Devon got caught up in Cleveland and made it in late. We had some beers, then it was off to try to get some sleep. I'll get my mail and resupply in the next few days. I'm still depressed and whinging about leaving Australia, but I'm sure I'll get over it. I do intend to make my way back there. Hopefully that will happen while I'm still young enough to enjoy it.
I arrive back in Boston a little before 07:00, and they've sent this plane's luggage to the wrong claim too. I notice that one of my bags feels light and have a moment of dread the though of broken wine bottles. I walk outside the terminal, and it's already just as hot at this early hour as it had been in L.A. at midday, and with more humidity. I'm not prepared for this.
I got a cab, and the driver is rather pleasant. We talk about how the people who sold the faulty product to the Big Dig should be prosecuted and the intricacies of driving now that the section of tunnel connecting to I-90 has been shut down because of the falling concrete that killed a woman. Even with the detours, the cab ride costs roughly what I expected. My apartment is pretty much how I left it. There seems to have been an issue with the plumbing. Nothing is water damaged, but dirt rings in various places around the sink indicate there's a story here. I open one bag to the smell of overexposed wine. The good news? Only one bottle was broken (shattered into tiny pieces actually). The bad news? All clothing in that suitcase was soaked in semillon and needed washing.
My other suitcase fared somewhat better. Both bottles of wine were intact, but my hair conditioner exploded through its Ziploc bag. Luckily, the fallout was contained to my coat and some socks. They are easily cleanable.
Devon got caught up in Cleveland and made it in late. We had some beers, then it was off to try to get some sleep. I'll get my mail and resupply in the next few days. I'm still depressed and whinging about leaving Australia, but I'm sure I'll get over it. I do intend to make my way back there. Hopefully that will happen while I'm still young enough to enjoy it.
Travelogue Day 55
17/7/06
Miraculously, it's still 17/7. We must be traveling awfully fast to go back in time like that.
I wake and watch the parts of Ice Age 2 that I slept through. Some more video gaming, then I slipped in and out of sleep for the next hour or so. It was somewhat disappointing that they didn't have warm cloths for our freshening up this time, but breakfast came soon. It was pretty good too, French toast style bread with diced cinnamon apples, a different tasty cupcake, and more passion fruit juice.
I watched a good portion of the last half of March of the Penguins before they shut down the entertainment system for final approach to L.A. Looking out the window, I couldn't help but be depressed. Before me sprawled miles upon miles of concrete and asphalt with nary a tree to be seen. The landing was one of the smoothest I've experienced, kudos to the pilot.
The trip through customs was exceptionally quick, and we made our way to the baggage claim. Devon had been seated amidst the People to People kids, unfortunately, and I did not envy him that in the least. Especially when I heard that his monitor didn't work.
Once we got our bags (after a mix-up with where they were supposed to be), we lost Donna. She had to, literally, run to catch her next flight. A.C. was next to go. She met a friend when we got to the public area and was off. I found Mike and Devon. We went to our respective terminals to check in our luggage before making our way to the international terminal's food court.
I found myself captivated by a particularly attractive woman as we approached the international terminal, and that seemed to be the order of the day. Mike left Devon and I around 15:00 to catch his flight, and my last minute attempts to reach Robert didn't work out, so Devon and I loitered outside one of the three entrances to the international terminal. We occupied ourselves by spotting beautiful women as they made their ways into or out of the building and chatting about Australia.
It was during one of these chat breaks from girl watching that I realized why I was so depressed upon leaving Australia. I realized that I was so reluctant to leave because it felt like home feels. I had been comfortable, knew my way around passably, had met some cool people, some of whom could have turned out to be friends, &c. You always hate when you're forced to leave somewhere like that.
During another low volume of pretty passersby, we spotted Forest Whitaker going into the terminal. Surprisingly enough, it seemed like we were the only people who did. There were maybe two other people who looked like they did a double take, but that was all. We were surprised. Forest Whitaker is a fairly well known fellow.
A few hours later and it was my turn to go. I left Devon to wait the extra two hours until his flight by himself and entered terminal 4. I had some chips with queso and a margarita at Chili's. It was good to have something closer to Mexican spicing. After the meal, I had only a few minutes until boarding.
I cleared my sinuses and put in some of my eye drops for good measure; then my head went numb. I tried to catch up a little on this travelogue, but I would fall asleep mid-word like a narcoleptic, so I gave up. I fell in and out of sleep for the rest of the flight.
Miraculously, it's still 17/7. We must be traveling awfully fast to go back in time like that.
I wake and watch the parts of Ice Age 2 that I slept through. Some more video gaming, then I slipped in and out of sleep for the next hour or so. It was somewhat disappointing that they didn't have warm cloths for our freshening up this time, but breakfast came soon. It was pretty good too, French toast style bread with diced cinnamon apples, a different tasty cupcake, and more passion fruit juice.
I watched a good portion of the last half of March of the Penguins before they shut down the entertainment system for final approach to L.A. Looking out the window, I couldn't help but be depressed. Before me sprawled miles upon miles of concrete and asphalt with nary a tree to be seen. The landing was one of the smoothest I've experienced, kudos to the pilot.
The trip through customs was exceptionally quick, and we made our way to the baggage claim. Devon had been seated amidst the People to People kids, unfortunately, and I did not envy him that in the least. Especially when I heard that his monitor didn't work.
Once we got our bags (after a mix-up with where they were supposed to be), we lost Donna. She had to, literally, run to catch her next flight. A.C. was next to go. She met a friend when we got to the public area and was off. I found Mike and Devon. We went to our respective terminals to check in our luggage before making our way to the international terminal's food court.
I found myself captivated by a particularly attractive woman as we approached the international terminal, and that seemed to be the order of the day. Mike left Devon and I around 15:00 to catch his flight, and my last minute attempts to reach Robert didn't work out, so Devon and I loitered outside one of the three entrances to the international terminal. We occupied ourselves by spotting beautiful women as they made their ways into or out of the building and chatting about Australia.
It was during one of these chat breaks from girl watching that I realized why I was so depressed upon leaving Australia. I realized that I was so reluctant to leave because it felt like home feels. I had been comfortable, knew my way around passably, had met some cool people, some of whom could have turned out to be friends, &c. You always hate when you're forced to leave somewhere like that.
During another low volume of pretty passersby, we spotted Forest Whitaker going into the terminal. Surprisingly enough, it seemed like we were the only people who did. There were maybe two other people who looked like they did a double take, but that was all. We were surprised. Forest Whitaker is a fairly well known fellow.
A few hours later and it was my turn to go. I left Devon to wait the extra two hours until his flight by himself and entered terminal 4. I had some chips with queso and a margarita at Chili's. It was good to have something closer to Mexican spicing. After the meal, I had only a few minutes until boarding.
I cleared my sinuses and put in some of my eye drops for good measure; then my head went numb. I tried to catch up a little on this travelogue, but I would fall asleep mid-word like a narcoleptic, so I gave up. I fell in and out of sleep for the rest of the flight.
Travelogue Day 54
17/7/06
I woke early to be sure I had actually packed and taken care of everything. I tossed out all the rubbish that was left in my room (including a good sized portion of camembert that I just couldn't eat with all the mucous production in my sinuses) and made final preparation for departure. I hope the $5 I left Pascal for my phone bill actually makes it to him and past the cleaning staff.
I left my keycard and mobile phone in the room (making sure to sanitize it of all text messages and private mobile numbers I'd picked up along the way), took my bags, and made my way to the lobby. Annabel had been there all night working on a paper, and I saw Donna in queue at the counter for breakfast. We were the only two who had gotten up early enough to get breakfast (I had tasty pancakes again). She had been up all night cleaning and packing, so she had also burned us all a mix CD of songs that reminded her of our experience on the trip. That was super nice of her, and it does capture some of my feelings too, or at least bring back memories.
Mark and Al came over to say goodbye and make sure we actually made our flight. Sarah, Sayaka, and Anna also woke up early to see us off. Sayaka took a couple of group photos before we let too. Quite nice of them.
The bus ride to the airport was fine, but the wait for ticketing was atrocious. It didn't help that I felt like my bladder was about to explode for more than half of the time. We did, however, get checked in, through security, and to our gate with plenty of time to spare. I, sadly, didn't pick up any kangaroo jerky for my dad at the airport. The only two varieties available were spicy and teriyaki, and he wouldn't eat either one.
Flying from Sydney to Auckland was everything I expected from Qantas. The lunch of BBQ chicken they served me was great and came with a tasty cupcake. This flight also let me get some, admittedly, mediocre shots of Sydney from the air. New Zealand is quite pretty from the air, with rolling green hills near the Auckland airport.
The airport wasn't bad. All we had to do was follow the signs. We lost tom and Joy here. Tom was staying for about a week (and doing the Lord of the Rings tour, the bastard), and Joy was staying a night or two before taking a roundabout way home.
things got a little scary when the flight from Auckland to L.A. was delayed because a seemingly endless stream of children (none over 13) in matching uniform (reading People to People) filed through the terminal and onto the plane. I was hoping I wouldn't be seated amidst them, and, luckily, I did not hope in vain.
The flight to L.A. was a bit different from the flight to Sydney. Our plane had not yet been upgraded with video-on-demand equipment, so we had fewer choices in entertainment. There were still six movies to choose from, we just had to wait for them to cycle back to the beginning, so I can't really complain. I also played a number of video games during the flight (Breakout clones are still fun).
The dinner on this flight was also quite good. It seemed like a sort of steamed chicken with vegetables and rice. It had a type of hummus with it as well as a packet of pretzel sticks and a roll. There was another tasty cupcake and a bit of what tasted like passion fruit juice in a little cup too. I had a cabernet sauvignon with my meal.
After dinner, I played a maze-escape game while waiting for 16 Blocks to cycle back to the beginning. It was a pretty fun game. The movie was alright too, but nothing too special (although the burglar who really wants to be a pastry chef wasn't an expected character type). I fell asleep watching Ice Age 2.
I woke early to be sure I had actually packed and taken care of everything. I tossed out all the rubbish that was left in my room (including a good sized portion of camembert that I just couldn't eat with all the mucous production in my sinuses) and made final preparation for departure. I hope the $5 I left Pascal for my phone bill actually makes it to him and past the cleaning staff.
I left my keycard and mobile phone in the room (making sure to sanitize it of all text messages and private mobile numbers I'd picked up along the way), took my bags, and made my way to the lobby. Annabel had been there all night working on a paper, and I saw Donna in queue at the counter for breakfast. We were the only two who had gotten up early enough to get breakfast (I had tasty pancakes again). She had been up all night cleaning and packing, so she had also burned us all a mix CD of songs that reminded her of our experience on the trip. That was super nice of her, and it does capture some of my feelings too, or at least bring back memories.
Mark and Al came over to say goodbye and make sure we actually made our flight. Sarah, Sayaka, and Anna also woke up early to see us off. Sayaka took a couple of group photos before we let too. Quite nice of them.
The bus ride to the airport was fine, but the wait for ticketing was atrocious. It didn't help that I felt like my bladder was about to explode for more than half of the time. We did, however, get checked in, through security, and to our gate with plenty of time to spare. I, sadly, didn't pick up any kangaroo jerky for my dad at the airport. The only two varieties available were spicy and teriyaki, and he wouldn't eat either one.
Flying from Sydney to Auckland was everything I expected from Qantas. The lunch of BBQ chicken they served me was great and came with a tasty cupcake. This flight also let me get some, admittedly, mediocre shots of Sydney from the air. New Zealand is quite pretty from the air, with rolling green hills near the Auckland airport.
The airport wasn't bad. All we had to do was follow the signs. We lost tom and Joy here. Tom was staying for about a week (and doing the Lord of the Rings tour, the bastard), and Joy was staying a night or two before taking a roundabout way home.
things got a little scary when the flight from Auckland to L.A. was delayed because a seemingly endless stream of children (none over 13) in matching uniform (reading People to People) filed through the terminal and onto the plane. I was hoping I wouldn't be seated amidst them, and, luckily, I did not hope in vain.
The flight to L.A. was a bit different from the flight to Sydney. Our plane had not yet been upgraded with video-on-demand equipment, so we had fewer choices in entertainment. There were still six movies to choose from, we just had to wait for them to cycle back to the beginning, so I can't really complain. I also played a number of video games during the flight (Breakout clones are still fun).
The dinner on this flight was also quite good. It seemed like a sort of steamed chicken with vegetables and rice. It had a type of hummus with it as well as a packet of pretzel sticks and a roll. There was another tasty cupcake and a bit of what tasted like passion fruit juice in a little cup too. I had a cabernet sauvignon with my meal.
After dinner, I played a maze-escape game while waiting for 16 Blocks to cycle back to the beginning. It was a pretty fun game. The movie was alright too, but nothing too special (although the burglar who really wants to be a pastry chef wasn't an expected character type). I fell asleep watching Ice Age 2.
Travelogue Day 53
16/7/06
The last day, and the anger and depression are not abated. Last minute packing gets taken care of (the things I won't need tomorrow morning anyway) and I do final cleaning. Picking things off the carpet by hand because you don't feel like going to the front desk to rent a vacuum (which I hear was no good at all) takes a bit more time.
I woke up with gunk on my blood-shot eyes and paranoiacally thought I had pinkeye. I went to the Broadway Medical Centre where, luckily for my pocketbook, seeing a doctor became too inconvenient. I went to the pharmacy instead where a pharmacist recommended eye drops for allergic conjunctivitis. I bought them to appease my mind and set off to breakfast. Custard danishes from Little Devil are tasty. I ran into Devon and tried to convince him to go to Bondi earlier in the day so I'd have some company. He said to check back later.
We saw Mike, who was on his way to the Broadway Cafe. I joined him, and Tom, A.C., and Donna after a while. They were planning to go to Bondi around 14:30, and I was in such a mood that I agreed to go with them. While at the Broadway, I said goodbye to Shirene. She didn't yet know if she had the job. I hope she gets it. I also tried the Mars Bar hot chocolate. It was pretty good, with pieces of candy bar and all.
I went back to Little Devil for lunch. Yes, it was a meat pie as you might suspect, and it was tasty, as always. 14:30 came, and I was tired of waiting for everyone, so I set off on my own to Bondi.
I did a bit of the cliff walk. Bondi beach is an attractive beach, and I spent some time watching the surfers before moving on. Not far down the walk I found a very nice seat on the side of a cliff. It was a concave portion of sandstone with a small bulge on the back that made it comfortable for reclining. I stayed there a while watching the waves come in before moving again.
I stopped at various points to watch the waves and eventually stayed a while at one place watching more surfers. I also saw a rather large cruise ship go by on its way to other places. Some nasty looking clouds appeared, so I started heading back home.
I passed the rest of the group on my way. They were out on some rocks, and I thought, "This looks like trouble." Needless to say, I didn't stop until I had reached my seat on the cliff where I looked over to see A.C. almost get swept away by a very large wave. They started back after that. It was getting dark.
I went back to watching the waves again, and Devon spotted me as they passed by. I said hello and creeped everyone out by just appearing like that. They went to leave, but I stayed a while longer to watch the waves. As the setting sun acted like a dimmer switch, I realized why the sea can be a peaceful place. You can put all of your sorrows into it, it's large enough to contain them, and the motion of the waves will twist and pummel them until they fall apart, leaving no trace of themselves behind.
When it was dark enough, I caught a bus back to the train station and went back to Sydney. I thought I was on a later train than the others, but when I got out at Central Station, I was ahead of them on the escalator, upping my creepiness quotient again.
A large number of us had dinner at a Lebanese restaurant in Glebe. The service left a bit to be desired, and the food was alright. Smoking the hookah afterward was much better. I didn't feel the smoke at all, and apple flavoured tobacco is pretty tasty. While we were there, another group was partaking of the hookah. They let a child that could not have been more than seven years old try it. What is wrong with these people?
We adjourned to watch The Office (American version), but found it preempted by formula one racing. Instead, we watched an episode of Arrested Development on DVD and went to sleep.
The last day, and the anger and depression are not abated. Last minute packing gets taken care of (the things I won't need tomorrow morning anyway) and I do final cleaning. Picking things off the carpet by hand because you don't feel like going to the front desk to rent a vacuum (which I hear was no good at all) takes a bit more time.
I woke up with gunk on my blood-shot eyes and paranoiacally thought I had pinkeye. I went to the Broadway Medical Centre where, luckily for my pocketbook, seeing a doctor became too inconvenient. I went to the pharmacy instead where a pharmacist recommended eye drops for allergic conjunctivitis. I bought them to appease my mind and set off to breakfast. Custard danishes from Little Devil are tasty. I ran into Devon and tried to convince him to go to Bondi earlier in the day so I'd have some company. He said to check back later.
We saw Mike, who was on his way to the Broadway Cafe. I joined him, and Tom, A.C., and Donna after a while. They were planning to go to Bondi around 14:30, and I was in such a mood that I agreed to go with them. While at the Broadway, I said goodbye to Shirene. She didn't yet know if she had the job. I hope she gets it. I also tried the Mars Bar hot chocolate. It was pretty good, with pieces of candy bar and all.
I went back to Little Devil for lunch. Yes, it was a meat pie as you might suspect, and it was tasty, as always. 14:30 came, and I was tired of waiting for everyone, so I set off on my own to Bondi.
I did a bit of the cliff walk. Bondi beach is an attractive beach, and I spent some time watching the surfers before moving on. Not far down the walk I found a very nice seat on the side of a cliff. It was a concave portion of sandstone with a small bulge on the back that made it comfortable for reclining. I stayed there a while watching the waves come in before moving again.
I stopped at various points to watch the waves and eventually stayed a while at one place watching more surfers. I also saw a rather large cruise ship go by on its way to other places. Some nasty looking clouds appeared, so I started heading back home.
I passed the rest of the group on my way. They were out on some rocks, and I thought, "This looks like trouble." Needless to say, I didn't stop until I had reached my seat on the cliff where I looked over to see A.C. almost get swept away by a very large wave. They started back after that. It was getting dark.
I went back to watching the waves again, and Devon spotted me as they passed by. I said hello and creeped everyone out by just appearing like that. They went to leave, but I stayed a while longer to watch the waves. As the setting sun acted like a dimmer switch, I realized why the sea can be a peaceful place. You can put all of your sorrows into it, it's large enough to contain them, and the motion of the waves will twist and pummel them until they fall apart, leaving no trace of themselves behind.
When it was dark enough, I caught a bus back to the train station and went back to Sydney. I thought I was on a later train than the others, but when I got out at Central Station, I was ahead of them on the escalator, upping my creepiness quotient again.
A large number of us had dinner at a Lebanese restaurant in Glebe. The service left a bit to be desired, and the food was alright. Smoking the hookah afterward was much better. I didn't feel the smoke at all, and apple flavoured tobacco is pretty tasty. While we were there, another group was partaking of the hookah. They let a child that could not have been more than seven years old try it. What is wrong with these people?
We adjourned to watch The Office (American version), but found it preempted by formula one racing. Instead, we watched an episode of Arrested Development on DVD and went to sleep.
Travelogue Day 52
15/7/06
What is this? Only last night I thought I would be feeling extra terrible after the beating my throat took, but it is now morning, and everything feels very much better. Oh, the wonders of spicy food and wine.
After clearing the nasty gunk from the various orifices of my head, I continued packing. I also finished the slice of carrot cake I got with my meat pies yesterday, for breakfast. As you would expect, it was rather tasty. Everything but the last-minute things, like my suit, has been packed.
Devon drops in just around noon and suggests we see if Fred is still in his room, and if so, we invite him to lunch. He was in his room, but he couldn't come to lunch as he was already meeting a friend who would later take him to the airport. We did, however, sit and chat with him about various things (the rather large cost of books in Australia, what we did and did not like about our undergraduate education, teaching styles, food). I also couldn't stop myself from coughing nearly constantly for the duration of our stay in Fred's room. It was rather embarrassing.
We left Fred's room to go to lunch, but when we hit the lobby, we ran into Tom, Mike, and Donna. Wondering what they got up to, we asked. They didn't do much as it turns out, just hanging out back in the UniLodge. We stayed there long enough to see Fred leave to meet his friend before setting out for Nando's.
Nando's is a chicken sandwich chain. They offer various Portuguese-style spiced versions of the sandwich. They spice it with peri-peri sauce (peri-peri is a chili pepper the Portuguese came across in East Africa if I recall their information correctly) to your desired level of hotness. The food is rather tasty even though it is a chain.
We continued preparing for our departure after lunch, and I realized that I was depressed that I was leaving. All of the signs were there. The bad attitude, relatively flat affect, tendency to have emo songs run through my head more than usual all tipped me off. That must mean I really like it here. But whinge as I might, I cannot change the schedule.
There was a tentative plan to find some kangaroo pizza tonight, but far too many people wanted to come along, so those plans failed before they had a chance to materialize. We still went looking, so the plan wasn't a total failure, but when we finally got to the Australian Hotel in The Rocks, seating options were not in our favor.
Despite this, we did order and eat. I had a small BBQ emu pizza and a little bit of Devon's kangaroo pie, which I traded a slice of my pizza for. Both were quite tasty, and I was surprised that the emu came as one large slice that covered all four pieces of the pizza (Anna was kind enough to cut it apart for us, since we both had our hands full). I have to say that I liked the kangaroo meat better than the emu.
After we finished, we met back up with the rest of the group (we had scattered earlier to find seating), and most of us walked back while four or so took a cab. Mike an I killed the goon. It tasted horrible; why did I drink that? We then came in on the middle of a drinking game in Donna's room. That was actually fun to watch, but I had to cut out when there was talk of going to the Lansdowne. I just didn't have it in me; too tired.
What is this? Only last night I thought I would be feeling extra terrible after the beating my throat took, but it is now morning, and everything feels very much better. Oh, the wonders of spicy food and wine.
After clearing the nasty gunk from the various orifices of my head, I continued packing. I also finished the slice of carrot cake I got with my meat pies yesterday, for breakfast. As you would expect, it was rather tasty. Everything but the last-minute things, like my suit, has been packed.
Devon drops in just around noon and suggests we see if Fred is still in his room, and if so, we invite him to lunch. He was in his room, but he couldn't come to lunch as he was already meeting a friend who would later take him to the airport. We did, however, sit and chat with him about various things (the rather large cost of books in Australia, what we did and did not like about our undergraduate education, teaching styles, food). I also couldn't stop myself from coughing nearly constantly for the duration of our stay in Fred's room. It was rather embarrassing.
We left Fred's room to go to lunch, but when we hit the lobby, we ran into Tom, Mike, and Donna. Wondering what they got up to, we asked. They didn't do much as it turns out, just hanging out back in the UniLodge. We stayed there long enough to see Fred leave to meet his friend before setting out for Nando's.
Nando's is a chicken sandwich chain. They offer various Portuguese-style spiced versions of the sandwich. They spice it with peri-peri sauce (peri-peri is a chili pepper the Portuguese came across in East Africa if I recall their information correctly) to your desired level of hotness. The food is rather tasty even though it is a chain.
We continued preparing for our departure after lunch, and I realized that I was depressed that I was leaving. All of the signs were there. The bad attitude, relatively flat affect, tendency to have emo songs run through my head more than usual all tipped me off. That must mean I really like it here. But whinge as I might, I cannot change the schedule.
There was a tentative plan to find some kangaroo pizza tonight, but far too many people wanted to come along, so those plans failed before they had a chance to materialize. We still went looking, so the plan wasn't a total failure, but when we finally got to the Australian Hotel in The Rocks, seating options were not in our favor.
Despite this, we did order and eat. I had a small BBQ emu pizza and a little bit of Devon's kangaroo pie, which I traded a slice of my pizza for. Both were quite tasty, and I was surprised that the emu came as one large slice that covered all four pieces of the pizza (Anna was kind enough to cut it apart for us, since we both had our hands full). I have to say that I liked the kangaroo meat better than the emu.
After we finished, we met back up with the rest of the group (we had scattered earlier to find seating), and most of us walked back while four or so took a cab. Mike an I killed the goon. It tasted horrible; why did I drink that? We then came in on the middle of a drinking game in Donna's room. That was actually fun to watch, but I had to cut out when there was talk of going to the Lansdowne. I just didn't have it in me; too tired.
Travelogue Day 51
14/7/06
I awake feeling worse than ever. I guess spending the night screaming over cover bands and running around without a sweater isn't the best thing to be doing when you're trying not to get sick.
I barely made it through class this morning. Many trips were made to clear my sinuses of various nasty things. We discussed the good and bad bits of the program as it exists this year. The only major change suggested was to have the paper for the film component due before the week of holiday. This could be a good thing, but I seriously have no complaints about this program.
We filled out course and overall program evaluations today too. I feel that I should have been more verbose, but I was feeling both very hungry and in rather poor health, so there was a distinct lack of writing done.
After a lunch of meat pies from Little Devil (why are they so tasty?), I took a little nap, and by little, I mean one half hour at the absolute maximum. I went back over to the Fusion building for a final email check (I, like an idiot, had forgotten to email Robert about setting up meeting details until this morning) and to say my goodbyes to Lauren and the others I probably wouldn't be seeing again. (Did I mention that I really don't want to leave Australia?)
Devon and I got back to the UniLodge just early enough to visit our rooms before departing for our farewell dinner with Daryl, Fred, and Greg. We went to a small Italian place located somewhere near Leichhardt(?). Daryl brought the wine, and the food was quite good. I had mussels in a spicy tomato broth that helped my throat, and whole body, feel ten times better. I also tried Marc's four cheese pizza (good) and Joy's potato and gorgonzola gnocchi (also good). For dessert, I had chocolate nougat gelato and a flat white. Alone, each was good, and together, they were doubly so.
A little more wine and we were ushered out (our group was fairly large, and their space was limited). A.C., Tom, Marc, and I waited for a cab for so long that Marc went to ask a restaurant to call one for us (it was much too far to walk, especially since we didn't know the streets we needed to take to get back). That worked out little better because someone along the line gave the cabby the wrong address, something we discovered because, as coincidence would have it, we flagged down the cab who had been called for us after he had given up at the other, wrong address.
(Side note: Greg is not only working on selling a new market targeting/analysis software program that NTF made in-house, but also writing a mockumentary about the marketing/advertising business. He told some good stories that should end up in the script)
When we got back to UniLodge, I was planning to have a relaxing night in to help me recover, but we ended up in Mike's room somehow, and I was enticed into slapping the goon. It's just as bad as it sounds. Never Have I Ever was played and much was learned about the sexual history of those in the room along with many more mundane details. After four or five slaps of the goon, Devon arrived to inform us that a party of people were embarking on a journey to see a drag show at the Imperial in Newtown.
Devon, Sarah, Sayaka, Mike, Tom, A.C., Marc, Donna, Ashley, Vicky, Annabel, and others set out around 23:00. I was wearing one of Mike's hats featuring a picture of a recently hatched chick and reading "Just been laid." It was a hit, and many photos were taken. After a few mishaps with cabs and buses, we made it to the club and paid our five dollars admittance fee.
Half of our number left after the first show, they got a little uncomfortable, but Devon, Sarah, Sayaka, Vicky, Annabel, and I stayed for two more shows. The standout number of which was the performance of a song that must be titled "Everybody's Fucking but Me." The lyrics were great, and the performance fit well with them.
On the walk back home, I could tell I would have no voice tomorrow. It had been bad enough to begin with, but after an evening of yelling over the dj between drag shows, I could hear that it was dying a slow, agonizing death. Oh well, it was a rather good time.
I awake feeling worse than ever. I guess spending the night screaming over cover bands and running around without a sweater isn't the best thing to be doing when you're trying not to get sick.
I barely made it through class this morning. Many trips were made to clear my sinuses of various nasty things. We discussed the good and bad bits of the program as it exists this year. The only major change suggested was to have the paper for the film component due before the week of holiday. This could be a good thing, but I seriously have no complaints about this program.
We filled out course and overall program evaluations today too. I feel that I should have been more verbose, but I was feeling both very hungry and in rather poor health, so there was a distinct lack of writing done.
After a lunch of meat pies from Little Devil (why are they so tasty?), I took a little nap, and by little, I mean one half hour at the absolute maximum. I went back over to the Fusion building for a final email check (I, like an idiot, had forgotten to email Robert about setting up meeting details until this morning) and to say my goodbyes to Lauren and the others I probably wouldn't be seeing again. (Did I mention that I really don't want to leave Australia?)
Devon and I got back to the UniLodge just early enough to visit our rooms before departing for our farewell dinner with Daryl, Fred, and Greg. We went to a small Italian place located somewhere near Leichhardt(?). Daryl brought the wine, and the food was quite good. I had mussels in a spicy tomato broth that helped my throat, and whole body, feel ten times better. I also tried Marc's four cheese pizza (good) and Joy's potato and gorgonzola gnocchi (also good). For dessert, I had chocolate nougat gelato and a flat white. Alone, each was good, and together, they were doubly so.
A little more wine and we were ushered out (our group was fairly large, and their space was limited). A.C., Tom, Marc, and I waited for a cab for so long that Marc went to ask a restaurant to call one for us (it was much too far to walk, especially since we didn't know the streets we needed to take to get back). That worked out little better because someone along the line gave the cabby the wrong address, something we discovered because, as coincidence would have it, we flagged down the cab who had been called for us after he had given up at the other, wrong address.
(Side note: Greg is not only working on selling a new market targeting/analysis software program that NTF made in-house, but also writing a mockumentary about the marketing/advertising business. He told some good stories that should end up in the script)
When we got back to UniLodge, I was planning to have a relaxing night in to help me recover, but we ended up in Mike's room somehow, and I was enticed into slapping the goon. It's just as bad as it sounds. Never Have I Ever was played and much was learned about the sexual history of those in the room along with many more mundane details. After four or five slaps of the goon, Devon arrived to inform us that a party of people were embarking on a journey to see a drag show at the Imperial in Newtown.
Devon, Sarah, Sayaka, Mike, Tom, A.C., Marc, Donna, Ashley, Vicky, Annabel, and others set out around 23:00. I was wearing one of Mike's hats featuring a picture of a recently hatched chick and reading "Just been laid." It was a hit, and many photos were taken. After a few mishaps with cabs and buses, we made it to the club and paid our five dollars admittance fee.
Half of our number left after the first show, they got a little uncomfortable, but Devon, Sarah, Sayaka, Vicky, Annabel, and I stayed for two more shows. The standout number of which was the performance of a song that must be titled "Everybody's Fucking but Me." The lyrics were great, and the performance fit well with them.
On the walk back home, I could tell I would have no voice tomorrow. It had been bad enough to begin with, but after an evening of yelling over the dj between drag shows, I could hear that it was dying a slow, agonizing death. Oh well, it was a rather good time.
Travelogue Day 50
13/7/06
After a fitful night of sleep, I wake feeling somewhat like I'm getting sick again. This is unacceptable, but there's nothing I can do about it today.
I had pancakes at the cafe place attached to the UniLodge lobby. They were the first food I'd had since 12:00 yesterday. The only bad part about that is that my stomach had gotten used to being small, and I had to eat them rather slowly. These pancakes remain consistently good.
Daryl took us to Fox Studios and Spectrum Films this morning. It was pretty cool. Mark at Spectrum gave us a quick rundown on how their business (post-production) works. They rent out their editing services or bays to whoever would like to use them. Next door is Animal Logic (SFX) and downstairs is a place that does sound editing.
The Fox Studios lot used to be an event area somewhat equivalent to a state fair in the U.S.A. Many of the buildings are heritage listed, so much of the place looks as it did originally (or close enough).
Devon and I tagged along with Daryl and Fred to the fish market for lunch. The fish was very good. I got a seafood sampler 'n' chips, which gave me my first chance to eat octopus. It was very good with the spicing they used on it. I also had a few of the prawns that Daryl and Fred offered. Peel and eat prawns are really rather tasty too.
I had to do laundry afterward, I had accidentally squirted my clothing with prawn juice while removing some heads, before leaving to meet everyone at Cargo Bar for free gin and tonics. That turned out roughly as expected. Cargo Bar was pretty good. Most of us had celebratory cigars; min was Cuban and pretty good. The money I spent on it was partly wasted because I wasn't able to finish it.
Devon and I cut out to meet Pascal at The Clare for a beer. I only stayed for one because I was running off to meet yet other revelers at a retox pubcrawl. Still, Pascal's friends that I met were pretty cool (Richard, the dentist [he had been the dentist in Ramingining straight out of school], was a bit crazy, but a good guy nonetheless.).
I made it to the pub where the retox party was and had many meetings. Another pub and a few beers later, I was headed back to base for the night.
After a fitful night of sleep, I wake feeling somewhat like I'm getting sick again. This is unacceptable, but there's nothing I can do about it today.
I had pancakes at the cafe place attached to the UniLodge lobby. They were the first food I'd had since 12:00 yesterday. The only bad part about that is that my stomach had gotten used to being small, and I had to eat them rather slowly. These pancakes remain consistently good.
Daryl took us to Fox Studios and Spectrum Films this morning. It was pretty cool. Mark at Spectrum gave us a quick rundown on how their business (post-production) works. They rent out their editing services or bays to whoever would like to use them. Next door is Animal Logic (SFX) and downstairs is a place that does sound editing.
The Fox Studios lot used to be an event area somewhat equivalent to a state fair in the U.S.A. Many of the buildings are heritage listed, so much of the place looks as it did originally (or close enough).
Devon and I tagged along with Daryl and Fred to the fish market for lunch. The fish was very good. I got a seafood sampler 'n' chips, which gave me my first chance to eat octopus. It was very good with the spicing they used on it. I also had a few of the prawns that Daryl and Fred offered. Peel and eat prawns are really rather tasty too.
I had to do laundry afterward, I had accidentally squirted my clothing with prawn juice while removing some heads, before leaving to meet everyone at Cargo Bar for free gin and tonics. That turned out roughly as expected. Cargo Bar was pretty good. Most of us had celebratory cigars; min was Cuban and pretty good. The money I spent on it was partly wasted because I wasn't able to finish it.
Devon and I cut out to meet Pascal at The Clare for a beer. I only stayed for one because I was running off to meet yet other revelers at a retox pubcrawl. Still, Pascal's friends that I met were pretty cool (Richard, the dentist [he had been the dentist in Ramingining straight out of school], was a bit crazy, but a good guy nonetheless.).
I made it to the pub where the retox party was and had many meetings. Another pub and a few beers later, I was headed back to base for the night.
Travelogue Day 49
12/7/06
Well, I fell asleep, so the up all night idea did not quite work. I woke around 05:00 and microwaved one of the long blacks I'd bought last night. As I sat in front of Daryl's laptop, writing a bit of my paper for Fred, I looked up and out my window to see the full moon directly in front of me. It sat just above the Grace Brothers building, and clouds were racing past, giving it an everchanging halo and semi-transparent mask. It was quite the beautiful sight.
After a little breakfast, and enough time to nuke the second long black I had from last night, I went to the Fusion building as early as I possibly could. It was virtually non-stop paper writing (with the occasional pause to interrupt everyone else who was there doing the same thing) until lunch time. Another long black and a moderately sized sandwich were on the menu. Three more hours of work on Fred's paper, and it was time for our final presentations for Greg. I, and most everyone else, ran a bit long, so we all rather rushed through some portions, but we all did rather well.
After class, it was another long black and back to work. Luckily, by 21:00 I had the paper all finished. It was celebration time.
Some calls were made and not returned (long story short version), and I hung out with Devon and Mike for a while. We separated when they went to the Lansdowne. The caffeine kept me awake even after I had determined it was far too late to be up. Around 02:00, I was entirely too tired of being awake and tired, so I decided to try to get some sleep anyway.
No sooner had I gotten into my bed then there was a banging on my door that refused to go away. It was Mike and Devon back from the Lansdowne with another tale of the random crazy people they seem to attract when they go there. This time, it was a guy who couldn't manage to form words. They dubbed him Mumbles McPhereson.
This guy followed them around the pub, mumbling at them, as they tried to lose him. When they entered the casino area, things turned even more strange. There was an old woman in there with three inches of ash on her cigarette and a short, wide Mexican who was hanging on another guy about Mike's age. Mumbles followed them there and struck up a conversation with the woman, who could understand him, apparently. Mike and Devon, then, rushed back to the UniLodge to tell everyone about it at 02:30. This made the telling slightly funnier, but led to later prank calls (that were also very funny to hear about the next day.).
Well, I fell asleep, so the up all night idea did not quite work. I woke around 05:00 and microwaved one of the long blacks I'd bought last night. As I sat in front of Daryl's laptop, writing a bit of my paper for Fred, I looked up and out my window to see the full moon directly in front of me. It sat just above the Grace Brothers building, and clouds were racing past, giving it an everchanging halo and semi-transparent mask. It was quite the beautiful sight.
After a little breakfast, and enough time to nuke the second long black I had from last night, I went to the Fusion building as early as I possibly could. It was virtually non-stop paper writing (with the occasional pause to interrupt everyone else who was there doing the same thing) until lunch time. Another long black and a moderately sized sandwich were on the menu. Three more hours of work on Fred's paper, and it was time for our final presentations for Greg. I, and most everyone else, ran a bit long, so we all rather rushed through some portions, but we all did rather well.
After class, it was another long black and back to work. Luckily, by 21:00 I had the paper all finished. It was celebration time.
Some calls were made and not returned (long story short version), and I hung out with Devon and Mike for a while. We separated when they went to the Lansdowne. The caffeine kept me awake even after I had determined it was far too late to be up. Around 02:00, I was entirely too tired of being awake and tired, so I decided to try to get some sleep anyway.
No sooner had I gotten into my bed then there was a banging on my door that refused to go away. It was Mike and Devon back from the Lansdowne with another tale of the random crazy people they seem to attract when they go there. This time, it was a guy who couldn't manage to form words. They dubbed him Mumbles McPhereson.
This guy followed them around the pub, mumbling at them, as they tried to lose him. When they entered the casino area, things turned even more strange. There was an old woman in there with three inches of ash on her cigarette and a short, wide Mexican who was hanging on another guy about Mike's age. Mumbles followed them there and struck up a conversation with the woman, who could understand him, apparently. Mike and Devon, then, rushed back to the UniLodge to tell everyone about it at 02:30. This made the telling slightly funnier, but led to later prank calls (that were also very funny to hear about the next day.).
Travelogue Day 48
11/7/06
Another day filled with work from the time the Fusion building opened until it closed. I managed to get through my Powerpoint for Greg and get most of the associated paper completed by the end of the day. They let Devon and I continue borrowing the laptops too. Without that bit of generosity, I wouldn't have been able to finish Greg's paper by Wednesday morning.
Overall, this was a rather productive day. Now to try to stay up all night writing papers, so I can come in on time.
Another day filled with work from the time the Fusion building opened until it closed. I managed to get through my Powerpoint for Greg and get most of the associated paper completed by the end of the day. They let Devon and I continue borrowing the laptops too. Without that bit of generosity, I wouldn't have been able to finish Greg's paper by Wednesday morning.
Overall, this was a rather productive day. Now to try to stay up all night writing papers, so I can come in on time.
Travelogue Day 47
10/7/06
I went into the Fusion building as early as possible, so I could actually get both of my papers and the Powerpoint presentation done as close to on time as possible. I worked on them until lunch time, then got some food.
Fusion beckoned, and I returned to work on papers and presentation again. The building closes early on Mondays though, and Greg was making himself available for final consultations, so I went to NTF. He liked my ideas and gave me a few others.
Going to NTF also put me in a good position for our later trip to the Sydney Aquarium (our meaning Devon, Sarah, Anna, and I). The bad part is that I was starting to come down with something again, so I spent far too much ($16.50) for one absinthe at Cargo Bar to counteract whatever it is before heading over to the aquarium.
Sydney Aquarium wasn't bad. I saw many fish I cannot recall having seen before. But it was a bit chilly in there since many of the larger, immersive exhibits were outside. I must say that walking in the glass-top tubes beneath the sharks, rays, groupers, &c. was very cool, even with the very annoying other people and the ones wearing too much perfume. The downside of the aquarium trip was that my back and joints felt horrible the entire time, like I'd had a night of drinking in black-out inducing volumes, despite my having gotten plenty of sleep.
After the aquarium, we got dinner on Darling Harbour. Ice Cube had just opened and offered us a "buy one get one" deal that could not be beat. The food and service were absolutely stellar, and yet, we were only set back about $25 each. I would probably go back, but I doubt I'll have the opportunity.
I went into the Fusion building as early as possible, so I could actually get both of my papers and the Powerpoint presentation done as close to on time as possible. I worked on them until lunch time, then got some food.
Fusion beckoned, and I returned to work on papers and presentation again. The building closes early on Mondays though, and Greg was making himself available for final consultations, so I went to NTF. He liked my ideas and gave me a few others.
Going to NTF also put me in a good position for our later trip to the Sydney Aquarium (our meaning Devon, Sarah, Anna, and I). The bad part is that I was starting to come down with something again, so I spent far too much ($16.50) for one absinthe at Cargo Bar to counteract whatever it is before heading over to the aquarium.
Sydney Aquarium wasn't bad. I saw many fish I cannot recall having seen before. But it was a bit chilly in there since many of the larger, immersive exhibits were outside. I must say that walking in the glass-top tubes beneath the sharks, rays, groupers, &c. was very cool, even with the very annoying other people and the ones wearing too much perfume. The downside of the aquarium trip was that my back and joints felt horrible the entire time, like I'd had a night of drinking in black-out inducing volumes, despite my having gotten plenty of sleep.
After the aquarium, we got dinner on Darling Harbour. Ice Cube had just opened and offered us a "buy one get one" deal that could not be beat. The food and service were absolutely stellar, and yet, we were only set back about $25 each. I would probably go back, but I doubt I'll have the opportunity.
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