It's one of those afternoons that makes me want to reach around Seattle's waist and squeeze. Wait...that didn't exactly come out right. I'm talking a hug. Because Seattle is so damn cute and fuzzy. And filled with hilarity.
Maya's on a break from her regular gig when it comes to daycare. So we're juggling some fun things - swim lessons, playdates, picking up drifters from down by the Amtrak station for a few hours of reasonably-priced babysitting. Some days give me a bit more time to get things done than normal, some much less. Today's a treat because I got some writing done earlier and now I'm also benefiting from a playdate drop-off so I can run some errands and the like. Included in a mix of things that you'd surely not care to hear about was the need to head down to a music venue near the Pike Place Market to pick up a pair of tix for a show that Sarah and I are overeager to see in October. Yo La Tengo @ the Showbox SoDo. Music geek royalty (reminds me of my all-time favorite Onion story headlined "37 Record-Store Clerks Feared Dead in Yo La Tengo Concert Disaster"). But I went to the ticket office inside the Showbox at the Market because it's closer. Those familiar with that area know it is surrounded by places that are or wish they were as classy as a strip club. Inside the Showbox there was an older rocker dood ahead of me in line with his bike getting single tickets for the following shows - Motorhead, Butthole Surfers, and The Damned. He was about 50. Then there I am. Then this kid, no more than 20, comes in by himself hootin' and hollerin' like he just shot up a village or saw the Indy Five-Hunnerd or won a free trip to Cabo Wabo from a classic rawk station. The old-way-beyond-his twenty-ish years shirt hanger and skinny jeans model behind the counter says without any sarcasm "this isn't a strip club" as nonchalantly as if he'd just said "restrooms are for customers only". Lynyrd Skynyrd didn't take offense, thanked Mr. Hipster kindly and turned on his heels, back into the sunlight with a mission before him. I got my tix minus the ridiculous Ticketmaster mark-up. And the afternoon is still young. Is this a great town or what?
Hope your own clubs are all exclusive yet welcoming today. Rock on.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Aliens vs. Nazis
It has been a good August for movies. After a largely sucky summer. Each of the past two Fridays I've been able to catch an opening without reading reviews or getting seduced by the success or failure of a given product at the box office. Because no matter what, these short-duration experiences are marketed as products. I'm happy to report that I've seen a few things you might also enjoy if you try them on for size.
"District 9" had the viral buzz before it hit the theatres, the originality buzz once it got there and the action buzz if you're lucky enough to be watching it. The effects are stylish and the story is being given plenty of credit for a broader metaphor about apartheid that is mostly deserved. But compared to the sort of mess that I simply won't see ("Transformers 2"), "District 9" at its heart just looks cool while being a true adventure. And at a tenth of the price. My rating - a true A-minus. Maybe not as entertaining as "500 Days of Summer" and not as unnoticed as "Moon", but the best movie of the summer that I've seen.
"Inglourious Basterds" is more of a melange than a movie. I'll outright admit it - I'll see anything Quentin Tarantino throws together. In it's defense, this "Basterds" isn't a mess. It's just trying to play it too many ways as sometimes happens with Tarantino's work. Here more than in his other films you've got hyper-realism mixed with alternative-reality. Abrupt surprises mixed with languid set-ups that go on forever. Which makes what should be yin and yang just feel like too much time being surrounded by a bunch of boot licking fans and pals. As usual, Tarantino casts the movie masterfully with one glaring example of misplaced loyalty. His pal, Eli Roth, makes torture horror (like "Hostel") and if you're into that sort of thing, he's a big deal. He and Tarantino obviously have a huge hard-on for each other's work. That's all well and good and their sovereign right as Americans. But Eli Roth in "Basterds" is worse than bad. He ruins any scene he's a part of and is so badly miscast that I expected initially he was meant to be an inside joke. Take him out of the movie and it would be so much better. Especially since you could then focus on scenes like the opening sequence shot against the stunning French countryside. Or the basement bar rendezvous that unfolds terribly as only Tarantino can master. My rating - a conflicted straight-B. Everyone's raving about Christoph Waltz as Col. Hans Landa, too. His is the best performance on film in years. So on balance I suggest that you see this movie, even if you are luke warm on the issue. It will become a classic. But right now, I can't get past memories of Eli Roth so it's somewhat tarnished.
Hope your own August drags on for at least another week. Rock on.
"District 9" had the viral buzz before it hit the theatres, the originality buzz once it got there and the action buzz if you're lucky enough to be watching it. The effects are stylish and the story is being given plenty of credit for a broader metaphor about apartheid that is mostly deserved. But compared to the sort of mess that I simply won't see ("Transformers 2"), "District 9" at its heart just looks cool while being a true adventure. And at a tenth of the price. My rating - a true A-minus. Maybe not as entertaining as "500 Days of Summer" and not as unnoticed as "Moon", but the best movie of the summer that I've seen.
"Inglourious Basterds" is more of a melange than a movie. I'll outright admit it - I'll see anything Quentin Tarantino throws together. In it's defense, this "Basterds" isn't a mess. It's just trying to play it too many ways as sometimes happens with Tarantino's work. Here more than in his other films you've got hyper-realism mixed with alternative-reality. Abrupt surprises mixed with languid set-ups that go on forever. Which makes what should be yin and yang just feel like too much time being surrounded by a bunch of boot licking fans and pals. As usual, Tarantino casts the movie masterfully with one glaring example of misplaced loyalty. His pal, Eli Roth, makes torture horror (like "Hostel") and if you're into that sort of thing, he's a big deal. He and Tarantino obviously have a huge hard-on for each other's work. That's all well and good and their sovereign right as Americans. But Eli Roth in "Basterds" is worse than bad. He ruins any scene he's a part of and is so badly miscast that I expected initially he was meant to be an inside joke. Take him out of the movie and it would be so much better. Especially since you could then focus on scenes like the opening sequence shot against the stunning French countryside. Or the basement bar rendezvous that unfolds terribly as only Tarantino can master. My rating - a conflicted straight-B. Everyone's raving about Christoph Waltz as Col. Hans Landa, too. His is the best performance on film in years. So on balance I suggest that you see this movie, even if you are luke warm on the issue. It will become a classic. But right now, I can't get past memories of Eli Roth so it's somewhat tarnished.
Hope your own August drags on for at least another week. Rock on.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Post-swim class poolside cheese. Mmmm, cheese...
Maya's about to have a break from daycare, and is a week into a new swim class. For those jonesing for a few fresh pics, here she is modeling her awesome pink cowgirl boots. Rock on.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Suggested sequel title - "16 Appointments with October, My Flirty Life Coach"
Oh, dear sweet cynical hipsters - is there any movie more unjustly derided by the sort of people that actually bought color-coordinated trucker hats a few years ago than "500 Days of Summer"? I doubt it. My rating - B-plus. We saw it last night and thoroughly enjoyed it. Joseph Gordon-Levitt carries it with crackin' good cuteness and surprising acting chops throughout. I only wish he didn't have such a bamboozle of a name to trip over time and again. Zooey Deschanel plays the character that she's now unfairly always expected to play - all look-don't-touch sexiness and vintage store style. He's like a narrow shouldered doodling James Dean and she's an updated version of Audrey Hepburn that you want to secretly bunch in the throat. The supporting cast is basically made of cardboard. The quirky fractured timeline might put some people off. But here's where I step off the pier without knowing how murky or deep the water is below. It works. It really gawddamn works. And the ending is a real treat. So I offer one piece of advice to those debating whether or not to see it. If you're not sure if you're in love or even serious like with the one you're with, don't do it as a date movie. I'll be a bit of a dick and say that I saw it on a decidedly fun anniversary date with my wife after which we went out for a top-drawer dinner to discuss the movie and life otherwise (Restaurant Zoe in Belltown - a totally A-rating Seattle bistro). But even if you're just beginning to feel something for a new partner with whom you'll head back out to your fixed gear bikes carrying a few PBR tallboys in the backpack to enjoy in a park on the way home, tamp down the snark and dive in. "500 Days of Summer" is the sort of movie that will split opinion like a wet comb. You're either on this side or that one. You know where I am. Bonus points for Gordon-Levitt's full-bore karaoke version of "Here Comes Your Man" by The Pixies. I haven't played that song in years and I forgot how much I love it. I even played it for Maya in the car on the way to daycare this morning and she sort of agreed. Maybe she was just humoring me.
Hope your own opinions are truly your own today. Rock on.
Hope your own opinions are truly your own today. Rock on.
Monday, August 10, 2009
And what about Bubba rescuing those reporters? His agent really earned the commision with THAT one...
The summer has cooled off so much that you can practically smell the NFL season. And with August no longer a newsy drought, the time seems appropriate for a little taking stock of certain stories that I've not commented upon in weeks past. Hopefully this will be quick so I can back to the real work at hand.
The Birthers have no more wind in their holey sails given the totally fraudulent Kenyan birth bunk. But these wackos aren't going away. Up next I'll bet anyone a potful of poi that there will be disproportionate concentration on his childhood years in Indonesia. With the battle cry of "well, he may have been born in Hawaii, but he learned to hate America at a madrassa in Indonesia..."
I hate to say it, but Obama really dropped the ball on the health care reform debate. This is due entirely to not having a plan before asking Congress to come up with one. Town hall violence and general polling discontent aside - Obama doesn't have a horse in this race. Everyone will look for a scapegoat in the poor planning. I pick Tom Daschle for being an utterly flawed "czar" nominee that didn't even make it to a confirmation hearing before pulling out of the process.
Sarah Palin is crazier than ever, but I'm convinced that she's going to start making the media rounds in a few weeks. Her "death panel" comments on Facebook last Friday notwithstanding.
"True Blood" is a cultural phenomenon. Why? Sex. It's only going to expand its appeal. Next up - evangelical nuts attacking it as some sort of sign that, once again, we're all going to hell.
I rented the original "Inglorious Basterds" this weekend. All I can say is I would hate to watch a bad bad movie with Quentin Tarantino while he tried to convince me it was bad good. Sometimes bad is just plain bad. And this movie sucked.
There's a story in today's NYTimes about how the loss of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer strengthened the position of the one remaining daily paper, the Seattle Times. I wanted to hate that piece, but it's actually a very good dissection of what's facing two newspaper metro areas and regional papers in general. For any media geeks out there - the Philly papers story in yesterday's NYTimes mag was also a sign of things to come. The shake outs will continue, in other words.
Maya's got a pair of pink cowgirl boots that Sarah found at a consignment store when we were on vacation in Santa Barbara. She's had cool clothes before. But these boots cross over more categories of appreciation than anything she's ever worn. I could be wearing a backless hospital gown and shower cap when I'm walking down the street with her and we'd get a thumbs-up from hipster and old crusties alike. My advice, get yourself a pair if you've got kids or a pet that appreciates footwear.
Well that feels better. Hope your own backlog of random observations get made into a best-selling collection of bumperstickers today. Rock on.
The Birthers have no more wind in their holey sails given the totally fraudulent Kenyan birth bunk. But these wackos aren't going away. Up next I'll bet anyone a potful of poi that there will be disproportionate concentration on his childhood years in Indonesia. With the battle cry of "well, he may have been born in Hawaii, but he learned to hate America at a madrassa in Indonesia..."
I hate to say it, but Obama really dropped the ball on the health care reform debate. This is due entirely to not having a plan before asking Congress to come up with one. Town hall violence and general polling discontent aside - Obama doesn't have a horse in this race. Everyone will look for a scapegoat in the poor planning. I pick Tom Daschle for being an utterly flawed "czar" nominee that didn't even make it to a confirmation hearing before pulling out of the process.
Sarah Palin is crazier than ever, but I'm convinced that she's going to start making the media rounds in a few weeks. Her "death panel" comments on Facebook last Friday notwithstanding.
"True Blood" is a cultural phenomenon. Why? Sex. It's only going to expand its appeal. Next up - evangelical nuts attacking it as some sort of sign that, once again, we're all going to hell.
I rented the original "Inglorious Basterds" this weekend. All I can say is I would hate to watch a bad bad movie with Quentin Tarantino while he tried to convince me it was bad good. Sometimes bad is just plain bad. And this movie sucked.
There's a story in today's NYTimes about how the loss of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer strengthened the position of the one remaining daily paper, the Seattle Times. I wanted to hate that piece, but it's actually a very good dissection of what's facing two newspaper metro areas and regional papers in general. For any media geeks out there - the Philly papers story in yesterday's NYTimes mag was also a sign of things to come. The shake outs will continue, in other words.
Maya's got a pair of pink cowgirl boots that Sarah found at a consignment store when we were on vacation in Santa Barbara. She's had cool clothes before. But these boots cross over more categories of appreciation than anything she's ever worn. I could be wearing a backless hospital gown and shower cap when I'm walking down the street with her and we'd get a thumbs-up from hipster and old crusties alike. My advice, get yourself a pair if you've got kids or a pet that appreciates footwear.
Well that feels better. Hope your own backlog of random observations get made into a best-selling collection of bumperstickers today. Rock on.
Sunday, August 02, 2009
"In the Loop" versus aerial loopdiloops - a truly Seattlish dichotomy
If you know anything about summer events in Seattle, you know that the Blue Angels perform to great redneck fanfare during Seafair's hydroplane races. Think NASCAR on the water with very low-flying fighter jets buzzing the crowd to feed the boatrace passion absent from everyone's daily lives otherwise. Fun in the sun, unless you're trying to cross the bridges over Lake Washington. But instead of joining in on the dockside partying, I got the chance to take some time out yesterday afternoon to join a surprisingly big crowd seeing an utterly antithetical entertainment choice indoors. The movie "In the Loop" is a British satire that features whipsmart writing and a pitch-perfect dissection of the ridiculous run-up to the Iraq War - here fictionalized to never mention Iraq but everyone knows what it's based on. It starts smart, gets bogged down in its own cartwheels and ends up feeling like a movie that was made for TV but somehow got released in theatres. Anyone that knows where BBC America is on their cable spectrum will love it. Anyone that thinks certain NPR shows are overexposed will love it. Anyone that can pick out frisee from a Whole Foods produce section without looking at the signs will love it. But, oddly enough, I didn't love it. Maybe it was the often too-ribald laughter of certain of the professorial and hemp-garmented surrounding me that made me leave the theatre saying that it was smart, perfectly cast, yet utterly unimportant. My rating - B-minus. Wait for the rental, but surely check it out then.
One personal new web fave - The Daily Beast's "The Week in Culture" is Tina Brown boiled down into a spreadable paste. If you're looking to spin through 10-20 quick hits on what you should know according to the smarter-than-you NY intelligensia that surely hates our freedom, here you must go each weekend. Me likey.
Hope your own Sunday is also a long list of things "done" off the "to do" list with still a chunk of day left to enjoy. Rock on.
One personal new web fave - The Daily Beast's "The Week in Culture" is Tina Brown boiled down into a spreadable paste. If you're looking to spin through 10-20 quick hits on what you should know according to the smarter-than-you NY intelligensia that surely hates our freedom, here you must go each weekend. Me likey.
Hope your own Sunday is also a long list of things "done" off the "to do" list with still a chunk of day left to enjoy. Rock on.
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