I've spent the last few weekends trying to juggle a lot of different activities, and ending up doing few of them. There are too many things going on lately, which is odd to think, since I'm finding myself so bored a lot of the time. But with the warm weather coming to stay, it's activity time, so that's what's doin'.
Slated for this weekend: An old college ladyfriend of Jed's is coming into town, and there's to be a group hangout in Brooklyn. She emailed me a few weeks ago after finding this little website, and things came together rather quickly. She's thinking of moving to NYC, and it'd be nice to have another old friend around. I'm not a huge fan of the big-group-bar-hangout, but it's the best option I s'pose. She told me she'd interview for a job in the Brooklyn D.A.'s office, and I told her I hope she gets the job, since I've always wanted to be able to say, in the middle of some sticky situation, "Don't worry, I have a friend in the D.A.'s office."Also, my old friend Doug is visiting NYC this weekend. I probably won't see him until next week, as he is staying with friends in Jersey until coming over to my place for a few days. I'm trying to figure out exactly what we should do while he's here.
I'd also planned on going to see a show in Brooklyn on Saturday night. Two bands I saw at South By Southwest will be playing. The first is the Dirty Projectors, who is on James' record label and who we played with the same night. The other is the band the Battles, a sort of math-rock, mostly instrumental band that was loud as all hell. The drummer used to be in Helmet, one of the most criminally under-appreciated bands of all time. If people had just appreciated them more, maybe all that terrible rap-metal or nu-metal or whatever the fuck wouldn't have happened. Page Hamilton really deserves his due. I read a comment, in a magazine I got at SXSW actually, about how Page Hamilton needed to be appointed "Dean of Heaviosity" or something, and would need to approve any new band copping his shtick. Anyway, I highly recommend both of these bands, particularly Dirty Projectors. It's just one guy, and he's kind of a loungy sort of Beck, but a better singer and guitar player, though not a better dancer. Half the show is backed by loud electronic beats, the other half is him crooning with his acoustic guitar. And behind him plays a series of pretty cool animations.
Last night, for some unknown reason, Miss Charming Melodee and I watched the last 3/4 of Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle. The nice thing about coming into the movie late was that I'm certain we didn't miss anything that would've helped illuminate the plot. I think we may have missed the carwash scene though. It wasn't even kitchy-bad/good at first. But for some reason we couldn't stop watching it. What annoyed me the most- besides the superflous sound effects thrown in when people bugged their eyes out or something- was the terrible action sequences. I'm the first to irrationally like a movie based on cool fight scenes and whatnot, but the problem with the fights scenes in this movie was that they didn't even come close to following any sort of physical laws of nature. Sure, there's got to be some suspension of disbelief. I'll accept that it's perhaps possible to be thrown from a car at high speed and be knocked out and not suffer a single bruise. I'll let it slide when someone pulls a shard of glass out of her side and then shows up in an evening gown at a Hollywood premiere moments later none the worse for wear. I'll even except Crispin Glover as a lethal fighting machine and that Demi Moore's character lounges around in lingerie and a fur coat, in LA. What really bugs me though, is stuff like egregious violations of Newton's Laws. Someone thrown into the air shouldn't be able to change direction mid-flight, no matter how cool it looks to throw someone over your shoulder then kick them when they somehow get to the other side. I know it's stupid to complain about a terrible action movie, but even terrible action movies should be held to some sort of standard. And speaking of gravity, there's no amount of suspension of disbelief that would allow me to accept the fact that Drew Barrymore could even lift herself and her ass five inches off the ground, much less perform a standing somersault over someone's head.
I can't believe I just devoted that much time to this movie. Writing, or watching.
While Miss CM worked on various projects, I stayed up late watching most of Swingers. The first time I saw this movie, I loved it. Then, after watching it five or six more times, I got really sick of it. Same thing happened with Pulp Fiction. But, as with Pulp Fiction, after not seeing it for many years and then catching it on cable a few times recently, I've come to a whole new appreciation of this movie. It is, without a doubt, the movie that best explains guys in their 20's. I don't think it's even open for debate. Just through and through, the dialogue is crisp, funny, and most importantly, true. Of course, the downside to this is that it spawned hordes and hordes of imitators. Bad imitators. I mean both movies and guys who thought they were as funny as the characters in the movie. I don't know which was worse.The last item of the weekend that I'm particularly excited about is the season premiere of Six Feet Under, probably the best show on TV. Not my favorite show, actually, but probably the best. There are other shows that I enjoy watching more, mainly because, while engrossing, SFU can be a real downer. It's definitely the most moving show going on. Better than the Sopranos even.
One week until we go on vacation. I cannot wait.
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