Archive for the ‘Other’ Category
By Belynda, August 20th, 2009 in Other | 1 Comment
Tags: ayn rand and her bullshit, bucket lists, challenges, crazy ideas, guardian, Reading
Not so recently (six months ago? More? 2008?? Yeah that sounds right. Who the hell remembers.) The Guardian put out a bucket list of the 1,000 books everyone should read before they die. At first I sort of rolled my eyes, because unless you’re this girl, it sounds like an impossible feat. But let’s really look at the numbers… obviously you’ll have to adjust the math for your age:
I’m 28 years old. Barring car crashes, swine flu, attacks by flying monkeys, cataclysmic war with one of the countries we’ve pissed off, or the rapture… I say that I should have enough eyesight, hearing capability, and mental acuity to read/listen to audiobooks until I’m 75. Call it 78 and I’ll hope for the best. That’s 50 years to read 1,000 books, or about 1.7 books a month. What the hell, I’m a go-getter.. I’ll read the whole second book and put it into the principle. Two books a month isn’t a ball-breaker right? I’m averaging about 5 a month for my New Year’s resolution self-challenge.
So fine. I can read the Guardian 1,000. It’s like eating any elephant… one bite at a time. And yes, yes, I know, I’m not the first person to dream this up. This dude and quite a few others beat me to it. And they’re trying to do it in 10 years, at 4 books a week. (My first question is, how friggin’ rich is THIS kid to have time to read 4 books a week… but I digress.)
Anyway, I’m going to take the slow-and easy, and read other stuff I want to read that’s not on the list, too. I’ve read 22 of them so far, and a few (like Don Quixote and American Gods) I’ve sort of picked up and put down in the middle. I’m just glad Atlas Shrugged isn’t on there. That was enough to kill someone. (Fuck you Ayn Rand, you’re dead and your Objectivist bullshit is languishing on a bargain rack somewhere, so ha.) Anyway, with a nice little dent in the list, I’m already feeling like a champion.
Now… I thought I saw some weird ones on a list today… such as How to Have Sex Like a Porn Star by Jenna Jameson (Ed says he approves of my reading this one) and Ron Jeremy: The Hardest Working Man in Showbiz I think someone made some adjustments to the list for their own amusement. Hell I might read those anyway!
Anyway, I think I’m going to pick up this not-so-little challenge just for the fun of branching out and reading some things such as PG Wodehouse and Agatha Christie… things I might not otherwise pick up.
Anyone else down?
By Belynda, August 20th, 2009 in Other | 1 Comment
Tags: "Ristening", 100 Classics Challenge, audiobooks, challenges, GoodReads, Reading, Writing
This year, I decided to do away with that dogshit resolution everyone makes about eating right and getting in shape, and decided to spend my time in a more constructive way.
I got some pretty serious heckling about the fact that I never found time to read. Between a full time job and three college classes at night, I didn’t really feel like doing anything but watching television and sleeping. But as someone who really does love to read (unfortunately I can’t do it three or four pages at a time on the can ::ahem!::), I took heckling to heart, and started picking up some audio-books** to occupy the spare minutes in my day (driving, groceries, laundry and the like.)
**Side note: The audiobooks of course then sparked the now-legendary debate of what is technically “reading”… if I’m allowed to say I “read” a book a listened to… issues of academic snobbery… and of course Beth’s clever compromise of calling it “Ristening” (ever the diplomat!) Nothing’s ever easy, is it? But whatever, I took the NEW heckling and used Ed’s guilt at having teased me to open an Audible.com account. I win 
So in January, I decided instead of promising myself that I was going to go to the gym three times a week and eat ridiculous salads and only drink, I was going to read/listen to a book a week. 52 books in a year, to make up for the paltry 13 from the year before. I was already off to a good start: When I left my job at the end of July 2008, I never turned on the television while I was home. I was finishing/editing a book at the time, and found that the best use of the quiet in the house was to write and read. I took a break from the job hunt to read “Love in the Time of Cholera” (I’d had it hanging around ever since I fell in love with the movie “Serendipity”) and looked up 5 hours later, wondering why I was hungry and why it was getting dark out.
I did a little thumb through my Goodreads list yesterday and realized that by month end, I will be a good 7 books ahead in my goal! Woo! If I can wrap up my current shorter selections, The Cellist of Sarajevo and Let the Right One In, House of Sand and Fog and maybe fit in a few quickies on my 100 Classics list (Camus’ The Stranger is only like 150 pages) then I should be a 41 by the turn of the calendar page.
I thought today of accelerating my goal to 100 books… but then I’d have to quit my job.
Hmm… actually…
The List So Far (parentheses denotes in-progress):
(House of Sand and Fog)
(The Cellist of Sarajevo)
(Let the Right One In)
The Sun Also Rises
Mother Night
Candide
Slaughterhouse-Five
The Pillars of the Earth
The Strain (The Strain Trilogy, Book 1)
The Painted Veil
The White Tiger
The Sociopath Next Door
The Road
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Little Bee: A Novel
Beloved
Crime and Punishment
The Catcher in the Rye
Dexter By Design (Dexter, #4)
The Trial
1984
Girl, Interrupted
Three Case Histories
Madame Bovary
Fool
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet
Nights in Rodanthe
Anointed: The Passion of Timmy Christ, CEO
Never Let Me Go
Brick Lane
The Rose Variations
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Everything Is Illuminated: A Novel
Girl with a Pearl Earring
Eat Pray Love
Billy Budd
The Virgin Suicides
Brave New World
Waiting for Godot
By Belynda, August 20th, 2009 in Other | 1 Comment
Tags: answers to questions, cool art, day off, fire and ice, harvard square, india, people's republic, wheel questions
Last week, Claire and I decided to take in the touristy spots in Boston and the surrounding area. We went to the Omni Theatre to see “Mystic India” (It was my second time seeing it, it was just as mystic as the first, and it really made me want to plan a temple tour.) Afterwards, hungry and adventurous, we wandered over to Harvard Square to poke through shops and fill ourselves to the max on tasties from Fire and Ice.
We were bumping around the square down on the corner of Brattle and Mass Ave., and ran into THIS thing:
What the hell IS that thing?
Tah Dah. Meet the Question Wheel.
Basically you can take a colored card, write a question, and Johnny Monserrat will answer your question. It can be anything at all! Will so-and-so marry me? Why is there so much violence in the world? Wanna hang out sometime? You ask the question, and Johnny will answer it, and pop the answer cards back up on the Wheel. In addition, they’re available on the Wheel Questions website.
I thought this was really cool, for a few reasons. First off, it was an interactive art exhibit with some substance to it. It wasn’t some bullshit Jackson Pollack or some guy flinging a cow or some delusional college student claiming to make art out of aborted babies for her senior portfolio presentation. Secondly… no one seemed to be stealing the cards! Even in the People’s Republic, the sheer lack of vandalism was almost too incredible to be believed.
The questions ranged from the serious, to the clever, to the bizarre.
Some of my favorites were:
* (Of course) What makes you the authority on everything?
* I can go to Harvard. (To which Johnny replied “Good luck on the TOEFL!” ha ha ha!)
* I’m 12 and what’s this?
* I can haz cheezburger?
* What is the velocity of a coconut-laden swallow?
* Will gnomes appear today?
* How do I stop writing a finished book?? (A few readers will relate to this question!)
* Penis?
And of course, to test the theory, I had to put up one myself, and I must say I’m pleased:
Andddd the answer… Thank you Johnny. I couldn’t agree more.
By Belynda, August 19th, 2009 in Other | No Comments
Tags: bookgirl96, great ways to spend a night on the couch, Niffenegger, the time traveler's wife, tv series
This just in:
Apparently the Niffenegger gravy-train has not yet pulled into the last station.
@Bookgirl96 on Twitter made my day today by posting a link to this article about the plan to turn The Time Traveler’s Wife into a weekly series!!!
No word in the article about possible cast members, but I’m really excited that the series might address some of the issues I had with the movie.
Keep y’all posted on anything new I hear. Thanks BookGirl96!
By Belynda, August 17th, 2009 in Other | No Comments
THERE ARE SPOILERS IN HERE, TOO.
There okay. I feel better now.
District 9 was not at all what I expected it to be. I actually went into the movie with little knowledge but the fact that it took place in Africa, and that there were aliens being treated like Japanese work-camp prisoners.
A movie that didn’t promise much but flashy effects actually turned out to be REALLY good, and REALLY gory.
The story plays like a mockumentary of a civilian containment effort, documenting the 20-year saga of the “Prawns”, a clicky-speaking, crustacean-like alien race, who have crash-landed in Johannesburg and are unable to leave. With no place to go, a settlement area is set up… make that a hideous slum is set up… and the Prawns live out a miserable existence riddled with illegal trade and a strange narcotic obsession with… of all things… cat food.
When the intergalactic shit hits the fan, it’s mostly made of humans. This movie was FAR gorier than I had anticipated (to Ed’s delight,) with bodies turning into mist, random smatterings of previously intact humanity splashing the camera, crazy black alien-vomit shooting out at random intervals, and some truly nasty prosthetic special effects decorating the story’s main character, Wikus.
Wikus is sort of a bumbling UN/Halliburton contractor foil who gets a distinct taste of how the other half lives when a fluid-filled canister bursts on him and starts to turn him into one of the baddies. Wikus goes from clown to bad-ass faster than you can say “Interspecies Prostitution” as he tries to win back his arm, his humanity, and the blonde-bombshell wife who he now scares the shit out of because of his nasty lobster claw.
While the movie has some distinctly Troma-like moments, it also gives you a pretty horrid picture of the way we treat “them.” Whoever “them” is… neighboring countries, religious heretics, people who annoy and/or repel us. It’s a fine piece of satire, and well worth the money if you can keep your gorge down while the body count rises (by the atom, in some cases.)
By Belynda, August 17th, 2009 in Other | 3 Comments
Tags: Henry and Clare, movie review, Niffenegger, Spoiler-filled reviews, Time Travelers Wife
PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS REVIEW IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE BOOK. AVERT YOUR EYES!
Abandon hope all ye who enter here…
*****
*****
Theatrical Poster
Okay. There. SuperMegaSpoiler Buffer Zone.
So, when I first heard The Time Traveler’s Wife was being made into a movie, the first thought that occurred to me was “Oh no. They’re going to butcher it.” As with Memoirs of a Geisha, Lolita, and every other movie adapt I’ve seen, there is a tendency to leave out the things that make the book so gripping. I often think the film industry has very little faith in its audience, but that’s a whole other post.
The things the movie got right, it got REALLY right. The visual effects of Henry’s disappearance, the here-and-then-nothing shots with empty mirrors and running water… these work. They show the sheer inconvenience of a life, a body you can never depend upon to be there when you’re counting on it. It does a good job of conveying the frustration of being left behind, of wanting things so badly you can taste them, and yet not being able to grasp.
Clare and Henry were really well played as a romantic couple. You could feel the frustration in a furrowed brow or a heavy sigh, the tender “forgive me” stare of a lover who is walking gingerly, the sense of play they shared in the book.
The settings were lovely. The dingy Chicago streets, the gritty splendor of the Bow Thai, all the grandeur of the Abshire residence were captured with ease. Even Clare’s studio felt as it should have, warm and inviting, a place where order ceased and creativity dwelled. I would have liked to see a little nod to Henry’s “Wings” at some point during the movie, but it was a small thing to miss. Henry’s Flannel shirts were there, the scraggly feel of his stolen and mismatched clothes. The setting and atmosphere translated really well from the page.
While I won’t say that the film anywhere compares to the beauty, the tragedy, or the chemistry of the book, I will say that it was a decent take. There were a few things however ,that speaking from my own experience really robbed the film of the original magic.
1. Henry: Henry was brilliant in the book. A sensitive yet punk-rock man, who loved Rilke as much as the Sex Pistols. What a mix. He was a librarian, the alpha-nerd who rattles off love poetry and revels in the time-worn touch and smell of the special collections gallery. He could also cuss you out and kick your ass and pick a lock in ten seconds flat. While for obvious reasons the lock-picking remained, the romance of Henry was left out of translation and supplanted by the GQ-friendly face of Eric Bana. Eric made a suitable Henry, but the movie gave us a total of 30 seconds of Henry as the smart, swoon-worthy geek. The signature phrase “Had we but world enough and time…” (Borrowed from Andrew Marvell’s poem “To His Coy Mistress”) never even *appears* in the movie. Call it nitpicking, but I missed it.
For the sake of garnering a PG-13 rating, the film shies away from the visceral sexuality of the book. The biggest example of course being the conception of Alba. It is no mistake that this little girl is brought into the world. A traveling version of Henry meets Clare in the street and tells her “Persevere”. The scene in the car with a pre-snip instance of Henry very cleverly supplants the very risque original, Younger Henry and Clare surreptitiously making love in the bed while Linear Timeline Henry snoozes six inches away, blissfully unaware. (I can’t even begin to comment on the inference of a man sleeping through the creation of his first child… call it a modern twist on an urban myth.)
Sex helps Henry stay, as well. I guess they needed him to travel a lot for the sake of a salable movie, because the paltry two or three times they allude to a lovemaking session before turning off the lights and drawing the blinds plays NOTHING like the sheer sexual energy of the book.
Film-makers also softened the blow of Henry’s reality for the viewer, based partially on test-audience reaction to the movie’s original ending. In the book, Henry’s condition eventually costs him both of his feet, and eventually his life. At an hour and three-quarters, the movie is unable to fully translate the deep depression and frustration of Henry’s life as an amputee. His death is played out as a train on a track, Henry the rider waiting to get off at the last stop. The floods of tears that came at Henry’s passing (which incidentally happened for me on a lunch break from work… sitting by my lunch spot at the lake SOBBING like a fool) just didn’t happen at the movie. If I were crying for any reason, it was because that final parting scene was close enough to evoke my original response.
2. Life After Henry: Life after Henry was not business as usual, as the film would have you believe. Clare went on in the world with what Plath would have called a “hole in herself, shaped like the other person.” Henry’s passing consumed her, mired her in sleep and self-pity, and for a time robbed her of her ability to be an artist and a mother. She tried anything and everything to reclaim some grasp on Henry, including a momentary lapse into a strange not-quite-infidelity with Gomez (”I am the time traveler now.” she says as she tries to use Gomez as a placeholder for her beloved husband.) None of this enters into the movie, for fear of tainting the audience’s image of Clare as the Madonna, a sinless woman removed from desire, a martyr. Likewise, moviegoers liked Gomez as the easy comic foil, who never adds to the tension of the plot. In reality, Gomez spends his life burdened by an unexpressed love for Clare, and in his one and only opportunity to indulge it, recoils when he finds that even in death, Clare can’t let go of the man she always loved. The movie doesn’t rock the boat, apparently in an attempt to secure our $12.
The movie makes a screaming dash from Henry’s death to the end of the movie, skipping everything about the ending of the book that made it truly magical. Much like the sweetness of Florentino winning the hand of Fermina Daza at the end of Love in the Time of Cholera, the victory over death experienced when Henry embraces Clare at the end of her life gives us a balm to soothe the heartache of the final chapters of the book. The film foregoes this sweet reward, moving instead to quickly wrap up the story-line in a gee-willikers ending where mother and daughter wander off into the sunset knowing that they’ll get to see Daddy even though he’s gone. It’s saccharine and contrived, and unfortunately it will make the movie sell better in the mainstream.
If you loved the book, buy the movie when it comes out, re-read the book while you’re waiting for the DVD release date. You’ll be spending more quality time with two people you love.
By Belynda, August 17th, 2009 in Other | 3 Comments
Tags: Amae, food reviews, Lowell, Viet Namese food
Eddie and I decided that tonight would be a good night to shamelessly gorge ourselves on Taco Bell and KFC, but fate had other plans for us.
We were buzzing down Westford Street when we went past Amae, a new Vietnamese restaurant in Lowell.
“Ooh! Want to try something different?” Ed says. Off we go. We — well, I — nearly caused a three-car pileup banging an illegal and highly unwise U-turn… but we got a spot right in front of the restaurant so the end justified the means.
Unlike many dressed up American-style asian fusion restaurants, Amae is the real deal, offering things like Pho, Glass Noodle soup, and a host of different seafood dishes in a fun atmosphere. Vietnamese television shows play on in the background, families come to enjoy authentic family-style Vietnamese dishes, and there is a GIANT SQUEEZE BOTTLE of tastebud-eradicating Hot Chili sauce on the table. Where can you go wrong?
*** Funny story about the Scoville punishment factor of Vietnamese food… My mom has a co-worker from Vietnam who eats possibly the hottest chicken and rice on the planet. Every time she sits with him for lunch, he digs into a giant dish of the stuff and about ten minutes in, says, “Jeez. My wife. I think she trying to *kill* me.” My mom always asks “Well then, why do you eat it?!” He mops his brow with a napkin, smiles and then says, “Cuz it GOOOOD.” ***
A quick look through the menu offered many choices for dinner. Ed decided on something tame - crispy chicken and rice.
I went for something a little more adventurous. I started out with spring rolls - not those sissy deep-fried things you get at the local Jade, but soft rice-paper rolls filled with shrimp, basil, lettuce, glass noodles, and something I couldn’t identify that tasted pretty good!
Things took a different turn at the main course. I decided on Clay Pot Pork… which is basically sliced pork simmered in scallions and a savory pepper sauce, served with white rice. When I ordered, our very sweet waitress gave me a sympathetic and hesitant look. “You sure? You probably won’t like it. Umm… It Vietnamese. It… smell.” She then complimented me on my jewelry, a diamond pendant with “Ai”, the Kanji symbol for love. She knew a little Mandarin, she said. I think she was trying to distract me into sticking with something more tame. Undeterred, I ordered it anyway. She gave me the three-second pause to back out of the deal, then went off to fill our order.
It’s possible she ran back to the kitchen to tell them to make the tourist version of “Clay Pot Pork” for the ridiculous girl who had made a horrible error in judgment, but whatever came out of that kitchen was damned delicious! The pork was cooked perfectly, wasn’t cuss-inducing spicy (although Ed did manage to wipe some chili sauce on my tongue and almost send me to the hospital.) She was still a little worried that I didn’t like it until her second visit back when I’d nearly wiped it out, and said I’d order it again. Ed nearly sent them to the store to restock on chili sauce, so a good meal was had by all. We wrapped it up with a Vietnamese version of miso soup, made with flatleaf parsley and morels.
Beside the food, the thing that charmed us most about the place was the sheer friendliness of the new owners. They were obviously in love with the place, and were thrilled that at 7 o’clock on a Monday night, the restaurant was bustling with families. Both of the owners came by to chat for a minute, making sure the meal was good and that we had everything we needed. We chatted a little about the lounge area (they’re still waiting on the liquor license - hop to it, Lowell!!) and how excited they were to finally be open for business. Just the personal attention to your visit is reason to stop by again soon!
By Belynda, August 12th, 2009 in Other | 1 Comment
Why so many blog posts in one day? Because I’ve been wicked slacking. Some time ago you may remember that I entered into this little agreement with the rest of the Blogenning crew… and about 7 posts in, I completely shit the bed.
Since then, I’ve done basically everything but write blog posts.
I’ve:
* Gone to see the only thing on earth older than the late Eunice Kennedy-Shriver
* Learned that my cats really are capable of anything
* Taken a road trip
* Read/listened to something like six books (two are even review worthy)
* Seen a fabulous play
In other words, I’m going to catch up on these blog posts in the most ridiculous manner ever, all while eating dinner. Much like our beloved Red Sox, every three quarters of a century or so, I decide to pull it out of the fire and do some winning. I didn’t even have to get jacked on contraband joy-juice to do it. My original aim was all 12… but it’s late and I’m tired.
By Belynda, August 12th, 2009 in Other | 1 Comment
Tags: australopithecus afarensis, dinkanesh, ethiopia, evolution, history, lucy in the sky with diamonds, lucy's legacy, new york
We went to New York this past weekend, and I had the nerd moment of all nerd moments while driving into the city.
We’re coming down the Cross-Bronx Expressway on our way to get lost in the Greek section, and what do I see but a 10,000 ft. billboard of the oldest, deadest monkey you’ve ever seen in your life. “Lucy’s Legacy”, an exhibit of Ethiopian and evolutionary history, was running at the Discovery Times Square Expo.
“LUCY!!” I shouted and pointed.
“Oh! Lucy! Well why didn’t you say!”
Who the frick is Lucy, you ask?
Lucy - also known as Dinkanesh, or Australopithecus afarensis for you really technical knobs - is the best-preserved fossil and best-known example of the bridge between “monkeys” and “people”. Lucy was discovered in Ethiopia in the early 1960’s, looking remarkably fresh-faced for a girl who had been in the ground for 3.2 million years, give or take.
I was giddy… and I mean stupidly nerdfaced giddy over the chance to see a piece of history that I’d only read about in my ancient studies classes. She is technically the property of the Ethiopian government, on special loan for a tour around the US before heading back to her native soil, supposedly forever. She’s around until October 24th if you’d like to go see her.
My favorite tidbit on Lucy is how she came by her name. As the story goes, the team of scientists tasked with cleaning and studying Lucy were listening to the then-brand-new “Sgt. Pepper’s” album by the Beatles. Lucy is named after the track “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”. Bring that one to your next cocktail party. You’ll slay with that bit of trivia. Better yet, successfully use Australopithecus afarensis (OSS-tra-low-PITH-ick-us aff-ah-REN-sis) in a sentence… you’ll drive the archaeology groupies wild.
Even though my mother looked at Lucy and said “Hm. Yup. Looks like a bunch of dead monkey bones to me” in front of the mildly amused curator, meeting Lucy in the umm… err… flesh was quite as awesome as I’d hoped it would be!
By Belynda, August 12th, 2009 in Other | 2 Comments
Tags: cuddly kittens, cute kitten stories, kitties, laundry disasters, lessons, other SEO-friendly web tags that will get me hits, regrettably mauled candy, spray bottles
Eddie and I recently became the pet-parents of Indiana and Jaws, two precocious little darling kitties who have filled our life with laughter and some very interesting new stories. You really don’t know how much you can love until you’re chasing something small and adorable around with a spray bottle and a roll of paper towels.
Indiana
Jaws
Here are some recent lessons we’ve learned from our two girls:
Trash Tastes Good… but it also means tummy war.
Every once in a hundred years or so, Haley’s commit makes a pass at this area of the universe, and I clean the fridge. This time, one of the main attractions in the trash bag was chicken that had… let’s say passed its optimal eating stage. I’m not proud.
In one shot, the two cats had launched a synchronized attack on aforementioned trash bag. Before I could yell “NOTRASHCATSDONTEATTHATITSTRASH!!!” they had gummed some tasty dead carcass.
The next morning, the piper came in search of payment. Let’s just say that I’ll never again look at a Jackson Pollack in quite the same way again. Refer to above spray-bottle mention above for further details.
Treats of Every Hue
Treats can be socks, the toes in socks, the trash (see above) or things in bags that look nothing like fishies or mice. I learned quickly that one never leaves anything on a counter that is not made of concrete and housed in steel. The girls WILL get in. I learned this the day I came home to find something truly horrifying waiting for me at the front door.
It was beige. It was slimy. It may or may not have ever had a pulse. It had quite obviously been on the receiving end of some rather vigorous attention from either one or both of the cats.
I stared at it for a while. I stared at it for another long while. I thought back to the chicken of the previous night. It is beige… and gross. And- beige.
THANK GOD. It was Thornton’s Clotted Cream Fudge. My two kitties, with their talons as sharp as the tongue of an Italian grandmother, had surgically removed the contents of a previously intact bag of the delectable English candy. Having mouthed it for a bit in a contemplative fashion, they came to agree that there was nothing much to the stuff and left it for me to dispose of.
They moved on to my Hobnobs shortly after, but having neither opposable thumbs with which to make dunking gestures, nor milk in which to dunk, they simply shredded the sleeve of cookies open, had a good gander at it, and left to go battle around the world.
Any Port in a Storm
Jaws has decided that her refined nose and paws must not touch any box of litter previously pooped in. Ever. Poop is of course poop, and it’s simply far below her station to poop (or anything else) somewhere that poop already resides. This means that Ed and I now live in fear of missing a poop in the boxes of doom.
Jaws found a much better solution to the problem yesterday however. Seeing that poop existed where she usually drops in, she went looking for an alternative.
In her defense, an almost-empty laundry basket DOES sort of look like a giant litter box.
I’m reading in bed, when I hear ::::scritch scritch scritch::::
Couldn’t be……….
OH but yes. It is.
She’s peed on my clothing. She is now attempting diligently to cover it with thin air. So it goes.
Final score: Jawsie 1, Ma’s undies and pillowcase, zip.
