Well, UofU men's basketball is off to it's worst start since 1970 0-3. I'm nearly glad I missed the game against Colorado last night, I don't think I could've stood another nail biter where they managed to grab defeat from the jaws of victory.
More, however, I'm worried about Saturday and the BYU football game, after that I can set my mind to hoops.
Several people have asked me if I think they can win. I've been answering "I believe they can win."
If the U brings the team from the last three games, the team that plays, I have no doubts. I'm worried though. Second place in conference isn't enough if they lose to the Cougars.
My oldest brother and I figured out that it was 34 years ago when our parents bought us the kid's season tickets for the first time. Baseball aside, U football is probably the most important thing in my sporting life.
I've sat through blow-outs on both sides, I've watched what could be some of the worst Division 1 football ever, though the Urban Meyer two years made up for a lot of pain. But it was the McBride days, and the regular wins against BYU which made me feel like it was worth my while - finally.
But win or lose I don't change out of red on game day.
So a friend's husband said "24-10 Utah"
I believe strongly in 34-31, but one little extra point from Louis Sakoda or a two point conversion from the likely Hero of the Day Eric Weddle will do just fine.
I believe, I hope, I'll be the one in red... Yelling loudly and also saying "come on guys" under my breath.
22 November 2006
17 November 2006
so much stuff to babble about
Reading Manhattan Transfer by John Dos Passos, the most under appreciated American author of the first half of the 20th century and Jerusalem Inn - one of the Richard Jury books by Martha Grimes
The Demos did really good in the election, except in Utah, but that's to be expected.
My football Utes are tied for 2nd in the Mountain West Conference.
Enjoying "Fade Into Bluegrass" a Metallica tribune album performed by Iron Horse.
But the very most pressing issue of the day is Bond, James Bond. Went to a matinee of "Casino Royal" today. I never ever go to movies on opening weekend. But it's Bond, so exceptions must be made. I'm in love with James Bond again, not that it's ever gone away, just cooled down a few times.
But this is Bond like the Ian Fleming novels, this is Bond like Connery. This is the Bond I love the best.
The funniest thing about the audience (other than their lack of humor which I'm used to around here) was that, although the beach scenes are impressive (Daniel Craig looks very nice with his shirt off), the scene which got the gasping intake of air from audience members was the scene where he puts on his tux. Lovely.
You can tell men made the movie, there's a lot of skin - male and female. A female director or writer would've probably had him mostly in the tux or street clothes. The only thing that looks anywhere as good as a man in a well cut tux is a man in just right jeans.
It's a shame what happens to the Austin Martin, but it is a Bond movie.
I don't expect good from Bond movies, I expect to be entertained. I was entertained and pleasantly surprise that it was pretty good.
It's long, about 2 hours and 20 min, so closer to 3 with trailers and ads, but I only looked at my watch once. I was afraid the movie was over and had to check if there was any time left. There was. Hooray.
Best line, imho, Dame Judi Dench as M, "Christ, I miss the Cold War." A sentiment and topic of discussion a few times a year with my 35 and older friends.
Well, my nostalgic trip upstairs at the Salt Lake Roasting Company has me well caffeinated. It's funny looking around, I see everyone I used to know here back in the day, but it's not really them, just our replacements, even mine. The differences? Lap tops, cell phones, i-Pods. Damn, back in the day we had notebooks, books, newspapers and face-to-face conversation. I hate the things that coffee shops aren't anymore, but I do like the wireless access.
The Demos did really good in the election, except in Utah, but that's to be expected.
My football Utes are tied for 2nd in the Mountain West Conference.
Enjoying "Fade Into Bluegrass" a Metallica tribune album performed by Iron Horse.
But the very most pressing issue of the day is Bond, James Bond. Went to a matinee of "Casino Royal" today. I never ever go to movies on opening weekend. But it's Bond, so exceptions must be made. I'm in love with James Bond again, not that it's ever gone away, just cooled down a few times.
But this is Bond like the Ian Fleming novels, this is Bond like Connery. This is the Bond I love the best.
The funniest thing about the audience (other than their lack of humor which I'm used to around here) was that, although the beach scenes are impressive (Daniel Craig looks very nice with his shirt off), the scene which got the gasping intake of air from audience members was the scene where he puts on his tux. Lovely.
You can tell men made the movie, there's a lot of skin - male and female. A female director or writer would've probably had him mostly in the tux or street clothes. The only thing that looks anywhere as good as a man in a well cut tux is a man in just right jeans.
It's a shame what happens to the Austin Martin, but it is a Bond movie.
I don't expect good from Bond movies, I expect to be entertained. I was entertained and pleasantly surprise that it was pretty good.
It's long, about 2 hours and 20 min, so closer to 3 with trailers and ads, but I only looked at my watch once. I was afraid the movie was over and had to check if there was any time left. There was. Hooray.
Best line, imho, Dame Judi Dench as M, "Christ, I miss the Cold War." A sentiment and topic of discussion a few times a year with my 35 and older friends.
Well, my nostalgic trip upstairs at the Salt Lake Roasting Company has me well caffeinated. It's funny looking around, I see everyone I used to know here back in the day, but it's not really them, just our replacements, even mine. The differences? Lap tops, cell phones, i-Pods. Damn, back in the day we had notebooks, books, newspapers and face-to-face conversation. I hate the things that coffee shops aren't anymore, but I do like the wireless access.
27 October 2006
Baseball's over - til next year or My Heart is Breaking
Well, the Cardinals just won the World Series. My dad and my dear friend Mark are happy.
I am not.
2003 solidified my Tigers fan status. I was weirdly disappointed when they won their last few games and failed to become the worst team ever. I'm even more sad right now.
The Tigers are the team of my blood, inherited from a beautiful 101-year-old great aunt who's been a Tigers fan all her life.
The Brewers are the team of my heart, they're young and tough with sons of Tigers' legents on their roster. A year or two and I may have a real dilema.
I know that my horse can't always win, hell, I'm a University of Utah fan, a Brewers fan, a Tigers fan and have become a 49ers fan thanks to Alex Smith. But Detroit looked so good in the ALDS and ALCS. My boys fell apart. But I am proudly wearing my Detroit sweatshirt over my Ivan Rodrigez T-shirt. At least I didn't have any bets on this World Series I predicted (everything except the final result) well before the All Star break.
So I guess it's football time, though exhibition college basketball starts really soon. GO UTES
Anyway, I think that the 49ers need to do is purchase either Brandon Warfield from the Ravens or Quinton Ganther from Tennessee. Both are good underutilized receivers. Then they need to get a probably bargain basement offensive line out of the Mountain West Conference. There are a lot of big, fast, graceful Islanders who played with Alex and love him or against him and respect him. Either way, they will protect him. My 9ers fan from birth, Chris, says they need new owners. Between us we're probably right. Both of our plans are probably the answer.
The highs, the lows, the joys of fandom.
Go Utes. Go 9ers.
I am not.
2003 solidified my Tigers fan status. I was weirdly disappointed when they won their last few games and failed to become the worst team ever. I'm even more sad right now.
The Tigers are the team of my blood, inherited from a beautiful 101-year-old great aunt who's been a Tigers fan all her life.
The Brewers are the team of my heart, they're young and tough with sons of Tigers' legents on their roster. A year or two and I may have a real dilema.
I know that my horse can't always win, hell, I'm a University of Utah fan, a Brewers fan, a Tigers fan and have become a 49ers fan thanks to Alex Smith. But Detroit looked so good in the ALDS and ALCS. My boys fell apart. But I am proudly wearing my Detroit sweatshirt over my Ivan Rodrigez T-shirt. At least I didn't have any bets on this World Series I predicted (everything except the final result) well before the All Star break.
So I guess it's football time, though exhibition college basketball starts really soon. GO UTES
Anyway, I think that the 49ers need to do is purchase either Brandon Warfield from the Ravens or Quinton Ganther from Tennessee. Both are good underutilized receivers. Then they need to get a probably bargain basement offensive line out of the Mountain West Conference. There are a lot of big, fast, graceful Islanders who played with Alex and love him or against him and respect him. Either way, they will protect him. My 9ers fan from birth, Chris, says they need new owners. Between us we're probably right. Both of our plans are probably the answer.
The highs, the lows, the joys of fandom.
Go Utes. Go 9ers.
17 October 2006
There's still the tigers
Well, I've had a bad day. I have parted ways with my employers, at their behest. I thought things were going better.
That's all I have to say about that right now.
Go Tigers. Go Cardinals, too. I called a six game Tigers/Cards Tigers win series back in the early summer. I have witnesses, though I may amend that to a five game series.
Oh, and Go Utes.
still no spell checker
I think I'll go get a beer, after I finish my coffee.
That's all I have to say about that right now.
Go Tigers. Go Cardinals, too. I called a six game Tigers/Cards Tigers win series back in the early summer. I have witnesses, though I may amend that to a five game series.
Oh, and Go Utes.
still no spell checker
I think I'll go get a beer, after I finish my coffee.
16 October 2006
best coffee combo yet
I found a combination better than coffee and Vivaldi on a crisp night, even better than coffee and YMSB.
Coffee and the "Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrain at Carnegie Hall" disc on a rainy fall night.
I just bought and gave probably the fifth copy of this as a gift since I found it about a year ago. Brilliant. The kind of concert I'd gladly give an arm to be able to time travel and see it at the nearly 40 I am now.
Music is brilliant stuff, so evocative. But it's funny how few boyfriends and just friends have given soundtracks to my relationships.
I was thinking about my resurgent love of bluegrass today and how it doesn't make me think of Chris, who's gotten me back into it, but rather of Richard the Fiddle Player from 20 years ago. Though he and I also listened to tunes of the day that I like(d) back in the mid-late 80s - Talking Heads and Dire Straits come to mind. We sang along in the car. Richard and I didn't listen to a lot of recorded bluegrass and old time music. Mostly he played for me. That was nice.
Miles Davis evokes fooling around on the couch with John. Not actual sex, but fooling around on the couch. The Pogues "Fairy Tale of New York" is also our song - but only in the car because neither of us is a huge fan of singing in public.
I remember going to shows and listening to music with Dylan, my former fiance, but the only music that makes me think of him was his seeming dislike of Elvis Costello. Why didn't I take that as a sign? We saw BeauSoleil, Young Dubliners, a ton of other shows at the dear departed Zephyr Club and the Dead Goat, but only those two come specificaly to mind.
Dave and I will always have They Might Be Giants and the Proclaimers. Time and, frankly, love allowed our relationship to re-evolve to friendship, and after about two years I was able to listen to TMBG without thoughts of him breaking my heart all over again.
My dear Larry, whom I kiss every five years or so before we decide it's a bad idea, will always be brought to mind by the Buzzcocks because of the night I was about the only girl on the floor and his lawyer danced me to the car.
That's it, I guess. Maybe I'm the stereo bitch and no one else ever asserted a musical opinion into my relationships. It seems hard to believe, but things are possible.
Must be going on forty maudlin tonight. I'm in a good mood, just on the thoughtful side of things. I hate it when I start thinking about the what could have been relationships. They're over and done with.
Also the spell check is not working this evening so I am responsible for all spelling errors, though I'm inclined to blame my typing.
Coffee and the "Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrain at Carnegie Hall" disc on a rainy fall night.
I just bought and gave probably the fifth copy of this as a gift since I found it about a year ago. Brilliant. The kind of concert I'd gladly give an arm to be able to time travel and see it at the nearly 40 I am now.
Music is brilliant stuff, so evocative. But it's funny how few boyfriends and just friends have given soundtracks to my relationships.
I was thinking about my resurgent love of bluegrass today and how it doesn't make me think of Chris, who's gotten me back into it, but rather of Richard the Fiddle Player from 20 years ago. Though he and I also listened to tunes of the day that I like(d) back in the mid-late 80s - Talking Heads and Dire Straits come to mind. We sang along in the car. Richard and I didn't listen to a lot of recorded bluegrass and old time music. Mostly he played for me. That was nice.
Miles Davis evokes fooling around on the couch with John. Not actual sex, but fooling around on the couch. The Pogues "Fairy Tale of New York" is also our song - but only in the car because neither of us is a huge fan of singing in public.
I remember going to shows and listening to music with Dylan, my former fiance, but the only music that makes me think of him was his seeming dislike of Elvis Costello. Why didn't I take that as a sign? We saw BeauSoleil, Young Dubliners, a ton of other shows at the dear departed Zephyr Club and the Dead Goat, but only those two come specificaly to mind.
Dave and I will always have They Might Be Giants and the Proclaimers. Time and, frankly, love allowed our relationship to re-evolve to friendship, and after about two years I was able to listen to TMBG without thoughts of him breaking my heart all over again.
My dear Larry, whom I kiss every five years or so before we decide it's a bad idea, will always be brought to mind by the Buzzcocks because of the night I was about the only girl on the floor and his lawyer danced me to the car.
That's it, I guess. Maybe I'm the stereo bitch and no one else ever asserted a musical opinion into my relationships. It seems hard to believe, but things are possible.
Must be going on forty maudlin tonight. I'm in a good mood, just on the thoughtful side of things. I hate it when I start thinking about the what could have been relationships. They're over and done with.
Also the spell check is not working this evening so I am responsible for all spelling errors, though I'm inclined to blame my typing.
14 October 2006
GO TIGERS!
For the first time in what seems like forever the World Series will have meaning for me beyond another week of baseball.
In my heart I am a Brewers fan. In the mid 80s my friend Mandy was the only other girl I knew who loved baseball. She was a Baltimore Orioles fan. Those years the Orioles kept beating out the Brewers for the American League East. I became a Brewers fan in self defense. It stuck. Yes, I did have to explain this to the Brewers fans I spoke with at the games in Denver this summer. The best thing about the league realignments and moving my Brewers to the National League is that they no longer compete directly with the Tigers.
The Detroit Tigers are the team of my blood, my inheritance on the maternal line. I have a 101-year-old Great Aunt who has been a Tigers fan all of her life. It runs in the family. What really solidified my love for this team was the year they were just short of being the worst team ever. I was saddened when they failed to lose their last few games in 2003. If you're going to fail, fail big!
The success of my boys from Detroit have also given me and my oldest brother more common ground. It used to just be the Utes, of whom I will not speak tonight. But the Tigers have gotten us on the same page on something else. He even sent me by birthday present early - a 1901 replica Tigers cap. Very, very cool. I grew up in the 80s, the gothic D is still just a bit too "Magnum PI" for my taste.
I've been working on my joy. Baseball is one of my joys. I predicted a Tigers/Cardinals World Series back in May or June, 6 games, Tigers win. I have witnesses. So far I'm half way there. And I win $2 from my darling A's fan. I'll probably end up buying him a scotch to drown his sorrows and be $3.00 behind with the tip. But that's ok. He'll get his $2 back from a co-worker for a bet they made in July on that Tigers/Cards series.
My poor Dad, 3 kids and not a Cardinals fan among us. At least he trained us to love the UofU with all of our hearts.
In my heart I am a Brewers fan. In the mid 80s my friend Mandy was the only other girl I knew who loved baseball. She was a Baltimore Orioles fan. Those years the Orioles kept beating out the Brewers for the American League East. I became a Brewers fan in self defense. It stuck. Yes, I did have to explain this to the Brewers fans I spoke with at the games in Denver this summer. The best thing about the league realignments and moving my Brewers to the National League is that they no longer compete directly with the Tigers.
The Detroit Tigers are the team of my blood, my inheritance on the maternal line. I have a 101-year-old Great Aunt who has been a Tigers fan all of her life. It runs in the family. What really solidified my love for this team was the year they were just short of being the worst team ever. I was saddened when they failed to lose their last few games in 2003. If you're going to fail, fail big!
The success of my boys from Detroit have also given me and my oldest brother more common ground. It used to just be the Utes, of whom I will not speak tonight. But the Tigers have gotten us on the same page on something else. He even sent me by birthday present early - a 1901 replica Tigers cap. Very, very cool. I grew up in the 80s, the gothic D is still just a bit too "Magnum PI" for my taste.
I've been working on my joy. Baseball is one of my joys. I predicted a Tigers/Cardinals World Series back in May or June, 6 games, Tigers win. I have witnesses. So far I'm half way there. And I win $2 from my darling A's fan. I'll probably end up buying him a scotch to drown his sorrows and be $3.00 behind with the tip. But that's ok. He'll get his $2 back from a co-worker for a bet they made in July on that Tigers/Cards series.
My poor Dad, 3 kids and not a Cardinals fan among us. At least he trained us to love the UofU with all of our hearts.
A touch of fall
I'm listening to Vivaldi's autumn, still drinking coffee at 10:15 pm and decided I needed this poem. The German is better, but this translation is the best I've found. It's probably the saddest poem I love.
Autumn Day
Rainer Maria Rilke
Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.
Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
Will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander on the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.
(translated from the German by Stephen Mitchell)
Herbsttag
Herr: Es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren
und auf den Fluren lass die Winde los.
Befiel den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
gib ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein.
Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.
(Rainer Maria Rilke)
Autumn Day
Rainer Maria Rilke
Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.
Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
Will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander on the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.
(translated from the German by Stephen Mitchell)
Herbsttag
Herr: Es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren
und auf den Fluren lass die Winde los.
Befiel den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
gib ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein.
Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.
(Rainer Maria Rilke)
18 September 2006
Coffee and Bluegrass
I'm really pleased with this photo of Derrick Turnbow the day the Brewers won in Denver. I shot it from 6 rows below the mile line at Coors Field.
Still running on joy and fumes. Haven't slept more than 5 hours in a night in weeks. I hope it doesn't catch me up anytime soon. I'm having too much fun, even when I'm not spending time with the lovely chef, whom I am not dating.
What could be better than drinking good coffee and listening to Yonder Mountain String Band? OK, maybe beer or whiskey with YMSB.
I've rediscovered my love of bluegrass with YMSB and the Old Crow Medicine Show.
I've rediscovered my love of coffee with the weather cooling off. Coffee in the morning. Tea in the afternoon. Coffee at night. I know my stimulants of choice. Mochas or strong coffee black are the only way to go.
In refinding my joy I've been talking about coffee a lot lately with my barristas. I'll drink any of it, even from convenience stores. But when the stars are out, the coffee must be good. I prefer the East African and Indonesian coffees: Ethopian, Sumatra, Kenya will do in a bind. I like the earthiness. Most of the barristas have said they like the Central American coffees with their floral/fruit notes. Panama and Costa Rica are my favorites from the western hemisphere. I'm drinking a nice Columbian now, but would prefer something with as much punch as the tunes.
I also like single malt Highland Scotch, the more peat the better. 70% chocolate. Yams. Spinach (blast the e coli outbreak).
I guess earthy foods are the appeal.
I've also been working around spam filters lately. It's forced me to clean up my electronic mouth. I had a problem today, though. "Heartless Bastards" is a tough band to get past the filters. I said, "Heartless (Illegitimate Ones)", my sister-in-law replied "Heartless out of wedlock children." She's good people.
06 September 2006
On Being Kissing Friends
The things I've sworn off that have come back to haunt me since Friday:
staying up all night on work nights
musicians
28-year-old men
kissing friends
These are all things which can go horribly wrong. I hope this time they won't.
I did get to kiss him late yesterday evening after his place of employment was closed, when his boss let us have a beer and he gave me the tour. I kissed him right where he is standing at work tonight. I try to be kind, but I never claimed to be nice.
He kissed me next to the pool table in our bar, and on the veranda at the bar. We kissed on the street. He said, "You're my friend and I shouldn't be kissing you, but I can't help myself."
From the first time he walked into the bar on a night I was there I've been intrigued. I think he was 22 or 23. I didn't actually get around to talking to him for a while, but I saw him.
Then, we talked a bit, superficial bar friends who saw each other in coffee shops from time to time.
A few months ago I saw he was upset, and asked what was wrong - woman trouble.
I did take home that lesson from Parsifal, ask.
We started talking more, growing closer, laughing.
The first night we hugged it was like time stopped. No bar, no traffic, no noise -- nothing except arms and hands and his scent in my nose and our hearts beating. It was a movie moment, when the couple stand still and the film is speeded up. Except it wasn't. Just that embrace took my breath away and stopped everything that wasn't us. It was like a half step out of the world. We found an unexpected place where our stillness met up and fit.
He says he's shy with women, maybe that's why I've initiated most of the conversation - until Friday when he invited me to watch football at his house. On the day that the only sports consolations were BYU and Stanford losing. On the day that ended with us kissing for two hours.
He makes me laugh.
He cooks like it's easy, like it's magic.
We talk.
He turns me on. I do believe it's mutual.
Between Friday night and last night (Tuesday) we spent something close to 30 hours together. Except at the baseball game on Monday we partied like rock stars. We like each other sober in day light too.
Work's kicked my ass this week.
I don't care.
I feel happy.
I like this me who sings in the elevator and whistles in the hall.
He's a bad influence.
We're both incorrigible.
I'm a bad influence on him.
He wants me to meet his younger half sisters to see if I can be a good influence on them.
He likes baseball, and I can forgive an A's fan.
His college teams are the Utes and the Golden Bears. Not in that order but I can like Cal when they aren't playing Utah.
I can like the 49ers with him. You'd think I'd be a Lions or Packers fan considering my Tigers, Brewers, Red Wings thang, but I got no NFL team so go 49ers.
Hockey could be a problem.
I want more than kissing from him. I'm too old for him and I want him forever. I won't push though. Even if we never kiss again (gods forbid) I want that wild man who makes me laugh and wants me adventuring with him at least for a little while. That and I still need to kick his ass at pool.
staying up all night on work nights
musicians
28-year-old men
kissing friends
These are all things which can go horribly wrong. I hope this time they won't.
I did get to kiss him late yesterday evening after his place of employment was closed, when his boss let us have a beer and he gave me the tour. I kissed him right where he is standing at work tonight. I try to be kind, but I never claimed to be nice.
He kissed me next to the pool table in our bar, and on the veranda at the bar. We kissed on the street. He said, "You're my friend and I shouldn't be kissing you, but I can't help myself."
From the first time he walked into the bar on a night I was there I've been intrigued. I think he was 22 or 23. I didn't actually get around to talking to him for a while, but I saw him.
Then, we talked a bit, superficial bar friends who saw each other in coffee shops from time to time.
A few months ago I saw he was upset, and asked what was wrong - woman trouble.
I did take home that lesson from Parsifal, ask.
We started talking more, growing closer, laughing.
The first night we hugged it was like time stopped. No bar, no traffic, no noise -- nothing except arms and hands and his scent in my nose and our hearts beating. It was a movie moment, when the couple stand still and the film is speeded up. Except it wasn't. Just that embrace took my breath away and stopped everything that wasn't us. It was like a half step out of the world. We found an unexpected place where our stillness met up and fit.
He says he's shy with women, maybe that's why I've initiated most of the conversation - until Friday when he invited me to watch football at his house. On the day that the only sports consolations were BYU and Stanford losing. On the day that ended with us kissing for two hours.
He makes me laugh.
He cooks like it's easy, like it's magic.
We talk.
He turns me on. I do believe it's mutual.
Between Friday night and last night (Tuesday) we spent something close to 30 hours together. Except at the baseball game on Monday we partied like rock stars. We like each other sober in day light too.
Work's kicked my ass this week.
I don't care.
I feel happy.
I like this me who sings in the elevator and whistles in the hall.
He's a bad influence.
We're both incorrigible.
I'm a bad influence on him.
He wants me to meet his younger half sisters to see if I can be a good influence on them.
He likes baseball, and I can forgive an A's fan.
His college teams are the Utes and the Golden Bears. Not in that order but I can like Cal when they aren't playing Utah.
I can like the 49ers with him. You'd think I'd be a Lions or Packers fan considering my Tigers, Brewers, Red Wings thang, but I got no NFL team so go 49ers.
Hockey could be a problem.
I want more than kissing from him. I'm too old for him and I want him forever. I won't push though. Even if we never kiss again (gods forbid) I want that wild man who makes me laugh and wants me adventuring with him at least for a little while. That and I still need to kick his ass at pool.
27 June 2006
The letter I should write
This is the letter I would write you if I weren't just as stubborn and passive aggressive as you are.
M,
I'm sorry.
We should've talked instead of texting, I should have been as pushy as you say I was on other things on that.
I thought I was being needy. I guess it's a matter of perception.
I'm sorry I wanted to see you so badly that I was inconsiderate of the things you need to do.
After all these years of knowing each other you overwhelmed me - by holding my hand of all things. Well, everything else too but that was a bit later.
Had you ever touched me before that night? I was uncertain if I wanted your touch, since I have heard more about you than I know about you, until you grabbed my hand, it was a gentle and unexpected act. From when you kissed me in the car you're the only one I've wanted.
You terrified me when you said you love me, and I just can't say it back, because that's a lie I won't tell.
If we're done we're done. It wasn't long enough for me to miss you too badly.
Mostly as I fall asleep at night.
Even if we never touch again please forgive me.
B
But that is the letter I won't send since I said I wouldn't be the one to initiate contact.
M,
I'm sorry.
We should've talked instead of texting, I should have been as pushy as you say I was on other things on that.
I thought I was being needy. I guess it's a matter of perception.
I'm sorry I wanted to see you so badly that I was inconsiderate of the things you need to do.
After all these years of knowing each other you overwhelmed me - by holding my hand of all things. Well, everything else too but that was a bit later.
Had you ever touched me before that night? I was uncertain if I wanted your touch, since I have heard more about you than I know about you, until you grabbed my hand, it was a gentle and unexpected act. From when you kissed me in the car you're the only one I've wanted.
You terrified me when you said you love me, and I just can't say it back, because that's a lie I won't tell.
If we're done we're done. It wasn't long enough for me to miss you too badly.
Mostly as I fall asleep at night.
Even if we never touch again please forgive me.
B
But that is the letter I won't send since I said I wouldn't be the one to initiate contact.
28 May 2006
finishing Sundance
So this isn't working. I didn't get my Sundance blogs done. Oh well. I'm just not responsible enough for dogs, children or blogs.
Here's the full list of films I saw rated on a standard school A-F scale. I'll try to avoid grade inflation so a "C" is passing.
"13 Tzameti" B+
"The Proposition" A
"Special" C
La Tragedia de Macario" B+
"American Hardcore" A-
"No. 2" A
"Adams Apple" A
"Shorts Program II" exempt from grading do to nature of programing (different grades for different shorts)
"Off the Black" A+
"Little Miss Sunshine" B
"Come Early Morning" A-
"Eve and the Fire Horse" A
"The Illusionist" A
"One Last Dance" A
"Quinceanera" A-
"The Foot Fist Way" C-
Film Church With Elvis Mitchell -- the most fun I had at the festival Amen
"In Between Days" C
"Half Nelson" B+
"Neil Young: Heart of Gold" A+
"Don't Come Knocking" C
"The Darwin Awards" B+
"Awsome: I Fuckin' Shot That!" conditional B+ (great idea, fair followthrough, crap music)
"Angry Monk" A-
"Who Killed the Electric Car?" A+
"Princessa" A
"Forgiving the Franklins" B+
"An Inconvenient Truth" A+
"Madeinusa" A
"Alpha Dog" B
Since Sundance I've seen the following Festival movies in regular release:
"Kinky Boots" A
"Thank You For Smoking" A
"Friends With Money" B+
Here's the full list of films I saw rated on a standard school A-F scale. I'll try to avoid grade inflation so a "C" is passing.
"13 Tzameti" B+
"The Proposition" A
"Special" C
La Tragedia de Macario" B+
"American Hardcore" A-
"No. 2" A
"Adams Apple" A
"Shorts Program II" exempt from grading do to nature of programing (different grades for different shorts)
"Off the Black" A+
"Little Miss Sunshine" B
"Come Early Morning" A-
"Eve and the Fire Horse" A
"The Illusionist" A
"One Last Dance" A
"Quinceanera" A-
"The Foot Fist Way" C-
Film Church With Elvis Mitchell -- the most fun I had at the festival Amen
"In Between Days" C
"Half Nelson" B+
"Neil Young: Heart of Gold" A+
"Don't Come Knocking" C
"The Darwin Awards" B+
"Awsome: I Fuckin' Shot That!" conditional B+ (great idea, fair followthrough, crap music)
"Angry Monk" A-
"Who Killed the Electric Car?" A+
"Princessa" A
"Forgiving the Franklins" B+
"An Inconvenient Truth" A+
"Madeinusa" A
"Alpha Dog" B
Since Sundance I've seen the following Festival movies in regular release:
"Kinky Boots" A
"Thank You For Smoking" A
"Friends With Money" B+
03 March 2006
Haiku
This is probably my first formal poem since college. My freshman year, when I took intro to imaginative writing. That was fall quarter 1985 or winter quarter 1986. Here goes.
The parking garage;
a sparrow sings his spring song -
no sound so lonely
The parking garage;
a sparrow sings his spring song -
no sound so lonely
02 March 2006
Sundace Part the 6th (finally)
More than a month after Sundance and I’m back.
On Thursday I saw two movies which were not in my original plan, and which made me very happy.
The first, “Half Nelson,” is the story of a junky middle school history teacher and girls’ basketball coach and a student he befriends.
Drey is a 13-year-old going on thirty whose mother works odd shifts as a paramedic and whose brother is in prison. Outside of school, the only caring male influence she has is her brother’s drug dealing friend. She’s a bright student and a good basketball player, both of which mean her teacher, Dan, is the more positive male influence in her life.
This could have been a nice teacher nurturing student story, but their relationship crosses a line when Drey finds Dan collapsed in the girls’ locker room after a game. He has a crack vial in his hand.
Dan is the good teacher who hauls his hangover out of bed and into the classroom every morning. His apartment is probably worse than the homes of most of his inner-Brooklyn students. He defies the curriculum and makes his students enjoy both learning and thinking. If only there were more teachers like that, but I digress. Even Dan’s drug dealer calls him “Teach.” Drey calls him “Coach.” He has a history of failed relationships with adult women, including a halfhearted affair with a fellow teacher
Dan starts giving Drey rides home, even when all he wants is cocaine and to be left alone. She borrows books and he stands up to the drug dealer. They develop a friendship which defies their differences in age (15 or 20 years) and the student - teacher relationship.
Shareeka Epps, as Drey, is stunning. She comes across as smart, tough and funny as any young woman destined to get off the streets. Drey comes across as the innocent who knows too much and whom you would like to save from that knowledge.
My locals quick pass holder buddies convinced me to give into entropy and stay at Rose Wagner for my second film.
I am not a Neil Young fan. In the way that I know all of Johnny Cash’s lyrics, I know Young’s lyrics and there are some songs I like, but I’m not a fan and I’ve never bought an album. I just might buy the “Prairie Wind” album which is essentially the soundtrack of “Neil Young: Heart of Gold.” (Though the title makes me think of the Kink’s song “She’s got a heart of gold.”)
This documentary was made just before Young was treated for a brain aneurysm, when he had his two day “Prairie Wind” concerts. To quote a completely different era of the Kinks (sorry) “all of his friends were there.” Emmylou Harris is one of his star cast of back up musicians, as are several former members of his bands, a college gospel choir and a brass jazz band.
The interviews with Young and his fellow musicians aren’t great, though some of them are interesting and funny. It’s really all about the music, and beautiful music it is.
There are so few concert movies that make you want to stand up and cheer after each song...“Stop Making Sense” is the other one for me.
The top four remain “Eve and the Fires Horses”, “No. 2,” “Off the Black” and “The Illusionist,” though both of this day’s are in the running for number 5.
On Thursday I saw two movies which were not in my original plan, and which made me very happy.
The first, “Half Nelson,” is the story of a junky middle school history teacher and girls’ basketball coach and a student he befriends.
Drey is a 13-year-old going on thirty whose mother works odd shifts as a paramedic and whose brother is in prison. Outside of school, the only caring male influence she has is her brother’s drug dealing friend. She’s a bright student and a good basketball player, both of which mean her teacher, Dan, is the more positive male influence in her life.
This could have been a nice teacher nurturing student story, but their relationship crosses a line when Drey finds Dan collapsed in the girls’ locker room after a game. He has a crack vial in his hand.
Dan is the good teacher who hauls his hangover out of bed and into the classroom every morning. His apartment is probably worse than the homes of most of his inner-Brooklyn students. He defies the curriculum and makes his students enjoy both learning and thinking. If only there were more teachers like that, but I digress. Even Dan’s drug dealer calls him “Teach.” Drey calls him “Coach.” He has a history of failed relationships with adult women, including a halfhearted affair with a fellow teacher
Dan starts giving Drey rides home, even when all he wants is cocaine and to be left alone. She borrows books and he stands up to the drug dealer. They develop a friendship which defies their differences in age (15 or 20 years) and the student - teacher relationship.
Shareeka Epps, as Drey, is stunning. She comes across as smart, tough and funny as any young woman destined to get off the streets. Drey comes across as the innocent who knows too much and whom you would like to save from that knowledge.
My locals quick pass holder buddies convinced me to give into entropy and stay at Rose Wagner for my second film.
I am not a Neil Young fan. In the way that I know all of Johnny Cash’s lyrics, I know Young’s lyrics and there are some songs I like, but I’m not a fan and I’ve never bought an album. I just might buy the “Prairie Wind” album which is essentially the soundtrack of “Neil Young: Heart of Gold.” (Though the title makes me think of the Kink’s song “She’s got a heart of gold.”)
This documentary was made just before Young was treated for a brain aneurysm, when he had his two day “Prairie Wind” concerts. To quote a completely different era of the Kinks (sorry) “all of his friends were there.” Emmylou Harris is one of his star cast of back up musicians, as are several former members of his bands, a college gospel choir and a brass jazz band.
The interviews with Young and his fellow musicians aren’t great, though some of them are interesting and funny. It’s really all about the music, and beautiful music it is.
There are so few concert movies that make you want to stand up and cheer after each song...“Stop Making Sense” is the other one for me.
The top four remain “Eve and the Fires Horses”, “No. 2,” “Off the Black” and “The Illusionist,” though both of this day’s are in the running for number 5.
05 February 2006
Sundance part the 5th
OK, after the Junior’s piece guilt, the factor that makes us act decent, made me decide to fill in Wednesday at Sundance. That and I can use the time to put a few more CDs on the computer to feed my I-pod.
“Quinceanera” (sorry my tildes hate me today) made me cry. It’s the story of Magdelena, a 14, nearly 15-year-old Latina in Los Angeles. Her father is a minister who kicks her out when she becomes pregnant, though she swears she’s still a virgin. Her aging great-granduncle Thomas takes her into his home, he’s already taken in her tough-guy gay cousin Carlos when his family kicked him out. This is a surprisingly happy little family of misfits.
The movie also deals peripherally with Carlos’s homosexuality and his relationship with the gay couple who own the front house on the property Thomas has been renting for something like 27 years. Gentrification is a much a problem for the people in this film as cultural issues and Magdelena’s pregnancy.
The writer-directors Wash Westmoreland and Richard Glatzer were at the screening and said they based the movie on their neighbors in Echo Park (Los Angeles) and most of the cast is people from the neighborhood.
I cried, yes I’m a bit sappy at times but that really does say a lot. After all the last two movies that made me cry quite that much are probably “The Pianist” and “Long Road Home.”
Hmm, Shawn Colvin and then Clash into the computer. I really need to sort my CDs since that isn’t even alphabetical.
On Wednesday evening I saw a dog. It was a nice dog, with sparks of brilliance, the beer drinking dude part of the audience enjoyed it much more that I did. The movie, “The Foot Fist Way”; the crime self indulgence from a young film maker.
The main character is Mr. Simmons, a Tae Kwon Do instructor in a small town in one of the Carolinas, I believe it was North.
He’s one of those sadly deluded people who is very good at what he does but horrible at who he is, fancy car and fancier wife don’t make anything better. When Simmons discovers that his wife has been fooling around with her boss his life falls off a cliff. He starts to be abusive toward his longtime students and makes a pass at a new student. The scene where he “dumps” her because the wife is back is a riot, after all she’d never been going out with him. Even meeting his hero, Chuck “The Truck” Wallace doesn’t make his life better.
There is a spark of potential genius in this movie, but for now it didn’t follow through.
And after Wednesday, the top four were still “Eve and the Fires Horses”, “No. 2,” “Off the Black” and “The Illusionist”
“Quinceanera” (sorry my tildes hate me today) made me cry. It’s the story of Magdelena, a 14, nearly 15-year-old Latina in Los Angeles. Her father is a minister who kicks her out when she becomes pregnant, though she swears she’s still a virgin. Her aging great-granduncle Thomas takes her into his home, he’s already taken in her tough-guy gay cousin Carlos when his family kicked him out. This is a surprisingly happy little family of misfits.
The movie also deals peripherally with Carlos’s homosexuality and his relationship with the gay couple who own the front house on the property Thomas has been renting for something like 27 years. Gentrification is a much a problem for the people in this film as cultural issues and Magdelena’s pregnancy.
The writer-directors Wash Westmoreland and Richard Glatzer were at the screening and said they based the movie on their neighbors in Echo Park (Los Angeles) and most of the cast is people from the neighborhood.
I cried, yes I’m a bit sappy at times but that really does say a lot. After all the last two movies that made me cry quite that much are probably “The Pianist” and “Long Road Home.”
Hmm, Shawn Colvin and then Clash into the computer. I really need to sort my CDs since that isn’t even alphabetical.
On Wednesday evening I saw a dog. It was a nice dog, with sparks of brilliance, the beer drinking dude part of the audience enjoyed it much more that I did. The movie, “The Foot Fist Way”; the crime self indulgence from a young film maker.
The main character is Mr. Simmons, a Tae Kwon Do instructor in a small town in one of the Carolinas, I believe it was North.
He’s one of those sadly deluded people who is very good at what he does but horrible at who he is, fancy car and fancier wife don’t make anything better. When Simmons discovers that his wife has been fooling around with her boss his life falls off a cliff. He starts to be abusive toward his longtime students and makes a pass at a new student. The scene where he “dumps” her because the wife is back is a riot, after all she’d never been going out with him. Even meeting his hero, Chuck “The Truck” Wallace doesn’t make his life better.
There is a spark of potential genius in this movie, but for now it didn’t follow through.
And after Wednesday, the top four were still “Eve and the Fires Horses”, “No. 2,” “Off the Black” and “The Illusionist”
Junior's Tavern 500 South 200 East RIP
I truly will get back to Sundance, but for today there’s something more important.
Junior’s Tavern, a Salt Lake institution since 1975 and a bar long before it became Junior’s, is closing. It’ll reopen on 300 South in 3 months, but will never be the same. The beer can collection that graced the west wall has been packed up for about a month, it makes the bar look empty and larger with those empty shelves. The booth by the pool table won’t be there. Where will Theron, Cory and Ross sit? Where will I sit for a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon (it won the Blue Ribbon at the World Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893)? Brewvies I guess, but no booths there and a dearth of Junior’s friends.
I love Brewvies, too, and have old friends who work there, but that’s a different niche of my world.
Last night trying not to be too depressed, trying to laugh and take photos and call it a party, we tried to figure out what to do. We even talked about a movie night since there are a few people who can’t quote much of “Withnail & I.”
There’s a running joke in the photo taking that I’m in at least 10 photos on 3 different cameras with my arm around different men (or Jody) in each one. I just told them to color correct off my University of Utah sweatshirt since the white is still white on that one. Me and my dates. Ha.
It’s sad. The friendly living room where you always know the host if no one else is going away. The bar where a third visit makes you a regular will be gone.
If the Legislature passes the no smoking in bars initiative this year, the new place won’t even be able to develop the pantina of the old one.
RIP Junior’s Tavern. I await the resurrection.
I think I’ll go take photos before the Superbowl starts.
Junior’s Tavern, a Salt Lake institution since 1975 and a bar long before it became Junior’s, is closing. It’ll reopen on 300 South in 3 months, but will never be the same. The beer can collection that graced the west wall has been packed up for about a month, it makes the bar look empty and larger with those empty shelves. The booth by the pool table won’t be there. Where will Theron, Cory and Ross sit? Where will I sit for a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon (it won the Blue Ribbon at the World Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893)? Brewvies I guess, but no booths there and a dearth of Junior’s friends.
I love Brewvies, too, and have old friends who work there, but that’s a different niche of my world.
Last night trying not to be too depressed, trying to laugh and take photos and call it a party, we tried to figure out what to do. We even talked about a movie night since there are a few people who can’t quote much of “Withnail & I.”
There’s a running joke in the photo taking that I’m in at least 10 photos on 3 different cameras with my arm around different men (or Jody) in each one. I just told them to color correct off my University of Utah sweatshirt since the white is still white on that one. Me and my dates. Ha.
It’s sad. The friendly living room where you always know the host if no one else is going away. The bar where a third visit makes you a regular will be gone.
If the Legislature passes the no smoking in bars initiative this year, the new place won’t even be able to develop the pantina of the old one.
RIP Junior’s Tavern. I await the resurrection.
I think I’ll go take photos before the Superbowl starts.
25 January 2006
Sundance 2006 part the fourth
There’s nothing quite like a week off to watch movies, sleep in, drink coffee and find a replacement for my favorite boots which are wearing out.
No luck finding the boots yet, but the rest is working well.
Tuesday was an evening for love stories.
Edward Norton is one of the finest actors about my age. I’m certain he’s done a bad movie, though I can’t think of any off the top of my head. “The Illusionist” continues this fine streak of films.
Norton plays Eisenheim the Illusionist, a popular stage magician in late 19th Century Austria. A cabinet maker’s son, Eisenheim is the childhood friend and teenage sweetheart of a Duchess whom he meets again about 15 years after leaving his home on the threat of his family being arrested if he continues his friendship with the young duchess. Things would be so much easier if the Duchess were not the intended fiancé (the engagement is not announced yet) of the fictive Leopold, heir to the Austrian throne.
I could babble about this movie all day. Edward Norton is intense and a bit creepy, Jessica Biel is radiant, Paul Giamatti as Chief Inspector Uhl is also a bit creepy but the picture of an honest but ambitious policeman, Rufus Sewell as the Crown Prince Leopold was cruel, arrogant and handsome. There’s 19th century stage magic (not camera tricks according to Neil Burger during the Q&A), beautiful city and countryscapes in and around Prague and a Phillip Glass soundtrack. What could be better? (OK, Rudy Dee in “No. 2” - but not by much)
One more thing about this movie that brought me great joy -- I love a movie that suckers me. This wasn’t quite “The Usual Suspects” on that account, but damn close. Also, how can you not love a movie with the character credit, Man who incites riot?
“One Last Dance” is the story of T, a hit man, who doesn’t drink or work Sundays whose only really friend is a cop, in Shanghai. T’s commissions show up in his mailbox, a name or in one case a question which needs answering and he does his job. The cop friend knows what he does, and doesn’t seem to mind much since most of T’s victims are scum.
T meets the sister of a rather goofy colleague and is smitten at first sight.
“One Last Dance” deals with morality in interesting ways. T and the detective play chess by mail, though they hand each other papers with the moves, and ask each other rhetorical questions. The rhetorical questions spill over into the rest of the story, and the most important one T asks is something like “Who is responsible for a murder, the man who pulls the trigger or the man who commissions the hit?”
I’ve seen Francis Ng, T, in other movies, and he generally has played a frantic goofy character, (in the Q&A director Max Makowski described him as the “Jim Carry of Hong Kong). He’s got a recognizable face, but as the restrained, perfectly dressed and coifed T he’s showing his ability to be a romantic lead.
This is a desperate, romantic, tragic, funny movie.
“One Last Dance” is neither as odd nor as funny as Makowski’s 1998 “The Pigeon Egg Strategy” but has elements of both. Makowski is a director/screenwriter worth keeping an eye on.
Well, it’s official I have a top four: “Eve and the Fires Horses”, “No. 2,” “Off the Black” and “The Illusionist” -- in no particular order.
I may head up to Park City Thursday since there are a couple of documentaries I want to see which are both playing. Wish me luck in the ticket line.
No luck finding the boots yet, but the rest is working well.
Tuesday was an evening for love stories.
Edward Norton is one of the finest actors about my age. I’m certain he’s done a bad movie, though I can’t think of any off the top of my head. “The Illusionist” continues this fine streak of films.
Norton plays Eisenheim the Illusionist, a popular stage magician in late 19th Century Austria. A cabinet maker’s son, Eisenheim is the childhood friend and teenage sweetheart of a Duchess whom he meets again about 15 years after leaving his home on the threat of his family being arrested if he continues his friendship with the young duchess. Things would be so much easier if the Duchess were not the intended fiancé (the engagement is not announced yet) of the fictive Leopold, heir to the Austrian throne.
I could babble about this movie all day. Edward Norton is intense and a bit creepy, Jessica Biel is radiant, Paul Giamatti as Chief Inspector Uhl is also a bit creepy but the picture of an honest but ambitious policeman, Rufus Sewell as the Crown Prince Leopold was cruel, arrogant and handsome. There’s 19th century stage magic (not camera tricks according to Neil Burger during the Q&A), beautiful city and countryscapes in and around Prague and a Phillip Glass soundtrack. What could be better? (OK, Rudy Dee in “No. 2” - but not by much)
One more thing about this movie that brought me great joy -- I love a movie that suckers me. This wasn’t quite “The Usual Suspects” on that account, but damn close. Also, how can you not love a movie with the character credit, Man who incites riot?
“One Last Dance” is the story of T, a hit man, who doesn’t drink or work Sundays whose only really friend is a cop, in Shanghai. T’s commissions show up in his mailbox, a name or in one case a question which needs answering and he does his job. The cop friend knows what he does, and doesn’t seem to mind much since most of T’s victims are scum.
T meets the sister of a rather goofy colleague and is smitten at first sight.
“One Last Dance” deals with morality in interesting ways. T and the detective play chess by mail, though they hand each other papers with the moves, and ask each other rhetorical questions. The rhetorical questions spill over into the rest of the story, and the most important one T asks is something like “Who is responsible for a murder, the man who pulls the trigger or the man who commissions the hit?”
I’ve seen Francis Ng, T, in other movies, and he generally has played a frantic goofy character, (in the Q&A director Max Makowski described him as the “Jim Carry of Hong Kong). He’s got a recognizable face, but as the restrained, perfectly dressed and coifed T he’s showing his ability to be a romantic lead.
This is a desperate, romantic, tragic, funny movie.
“One Last Dance” is neither as odd nor as funny as Makowski’s 1998 “The Pigeon Egg Strategy” but has elements of both. Makowski is a director/screenwriter worth keeping an eye on.
Well, it’s official I have a top four: “Eve and the Fires Horses”, “No. 2,” “Off the Black” and “The Illusionist” -- in no particular order.
I may head up to Park City Thursday since there are a couple of documentaries I want to see which are both playing. Wish me luck in the ticket line.
24 January 2006
Sundance 2006 part the third
First things first. I have no brain. It was William Hurt in “Kiss of the Spider Woman”. “Cannery Row,” that’s where I first remember Nolte, that and “48 Hours” which came out the same year according to IMDB.com.
All these years I’ve been pressing my luck with Sundance and the U.S. Film and Video Festival before that. (Remember the Elk’s Theaters?) I don’t think I’ve seen half a dozen dogs.
And the lucky streak continued Monday.
I’m not a huge fan of Ashley Judd, but my respect for her work has gone up a notch or three after “Come Early Morning.”
She is lovely and very tired seeming as Lucy, a building contractor who drinks too much and ends up in the wrong bed with the wrong man far too many days. She also isn’t very good at sneaking out in the morning without waking them up. Even when she finds someone who may be right it’s difficult to break the habits of an adult life time.
It’s really not hard to understand why Lucy is how she is. She works full time, practically running the business, she takes one grandmother shopping and to her husband’s grave, she visits her other grandparents who have probably been fighting all of the 55 years they’ve been married, visits an uncle, is trying to reestablish relations with her alcoholic father by going to church with him, and hangs out with the old men at the bar until an interesting/interested young one comes along. She knows her life is a mess but is so stuck being dutiful, though I don’t think she resents her role, that she drinks. Strong people have been driven to drink by less.
There’s no magical Hollywood ending to “Come Early Morning,” but things are looking up as Lucy watches the sunset just before the credits roll.
“Eve and the Fire Horses” is beautiful. Set in about 1972, it is the story of Eve, a five or six-year-old Chinese-Canadian girl dealing with the death of her Grandmother, her slightly older sister’s fascination with Christianity (Catholicism specifically) and her mother’s debilitating depression after a miscarriage.
Being Buddhist, Eve’s father told the girls that their Grandmother would be reincarnated as a goldfish. The nun at Sunday School tells them that since she was a heathen she is in hell. Eve and her sister, Karena, decide that since their Grandmother was good, she must be in limbo and that if they do good deeds and pray she’ll go to heaven.
Karena dives headlong into Christianity with an interesting child’s interpretation of what things mean. Eve, again with the interpretation of an imaginative child, manages to reconcile Catholicism with her parent’s Buddhism. In grand moments of magic realism, Eve sees the Buddha and Jesus dancing in the living room and has conversations with her Grandmother’s Goddess statues come to life. Though the Goddess who gives her advice is a bit of a trouble maker.
I want to say so much about this movie, it’s one of those that I liked right away, but am liking even more twelve hours after watching it. This is one I would pay to see again without question.
Monday’s theme, as much as there was one, was daughters coming to terms with changes in their lives and families and the love of Grandmothers.
I haven’t had a grandmother since I was very young, but I’ve been lucky enough to have a great aunt who treats my mom like a daughter and me like a granddaughter and have had many wonderful older women in my life who have cared about me as if I were family.
So, with “Eve and the Fires Horses” I now have a top three with “No. 2” and “Off the Black” as the others.
All these years I’ve been pressing my luck with Sundance and the U.S. Film and Video Festival before that. (Remember the Elk’s Theaters?) I don’t think I’ve seen half a dozen dogs.
And the lucky streak continued Monday.
I’m not a huge fan of Ashley Judd, but my respect for her work has gone up a notch or three after “Come Early Morning.”
She is lovely and very tired seeming as Lucy, a building contractor who drinks too much and ends up in the wrong bed with the wrong man far too many days. She also isn’t very good at sneaking out in the morning without waking them up. Even when she finds someone who may be right it’s difficult to break the habits of an adult life time.
It’s really not hard to understand why Lucy is how she is. She works full time, practically running the business, she takes one grandmother shopping and to her husband’s grave, she visits her other grandparents who have probably been fighting all of the 55 years they’ve been married, visits an uncle, is trying to reestablish relations with her alcoholic father by going to church with him, and hangs out with the old men at the bar until an interesting/interested young one comes along. She knows her life is a mess but is so stuck being dutiful, though I don’t think she resents her role, that she drinks. Strong people have been driven to drink by less.
There’s no magical Hollywood ending to “Come Early Morning,” but things are looking up as Lucy watches the sunset just before the credits roll.
“Eve and the Fire Horses” is beautiful. Set in about 1972, it is the story of Eve, a five or six-year-old Chinese-Canadian girl dealing with the death of her Grandmother, her slightly older sister’s fascination with Christianity (Catholicism specifically) and her mother’s debilitating depression after a miscarriage.
Being Buddhist, Eve’s father told the girls that their Grandmother would be reincarnated as a goldfish. The nun at Sunday School tells them that since she was a heathen she is in hell. Eve and her sister, Karena, decide that since their Grandmother was good, she must be in limbo and that if they do good deeds and pray she’ll go to heaven.
Karena dives headlong into Christianity with an interesting child’s interpretation of what things mean. Eve, again with the interpretation of an imaginative child, manages to reconcile Catholicism with her parent’s Buddhism. In grand moments of magic realism, Eve sees the Buddha and Jesus dancing in the living room and has conversations with her Grandmother’s Goddess statues come to life. Though the Goddess who gives her advice is a bit of a trouble maker.
I want to say so much about this movie, it’s one of those that I liked right away, but am liking even more twelve hours after watching it. This is one I would pay to see again without question.
Monday’s theme, as much as there was one, was daughters coming to terms with changes in their lives and families and the love of Grandmothers.
I haven’t had a grandmother since I was very young, but I’ve been lucky enough to have a great aunt who treats my mom like a daughter and me like a granddaughter and have had many wonderful older women in my life who have cared about me as if I were family.
So, with “Eve and the Fires Horses” I now have a top three with “No. 2” and “Off the Black” as the others.
23 January 2006
Sundance 2006 part the second
Did you like that tease at the end of the last post? Let’s revisit...
Sunday was lovely, I could've stayed inside drinking my morning coffee, but instead chose to sit in the sun and watch the first two movies at the Broadway line up while I waited for mine to start.
Mine was “Adam’s Apples” a Danish film about a neo-nazi on probation who is to stay at a rural church with a minister who is in denial about his life, a former tennis player who was in prison for kidnap and rape and a middle eastern immigrant who committed revenge armed robbery on one particular oil company’s mini-marts, because he’s political and accuses the company of stealing his father’s land. There’s also the pregnant woman who ends up at the church because she doesn’t know what else to do.
Adam, at the minister Ivan’s behest, sets himself the task of making an apple pie with apples from the tree in the churchyard, as soon as the apples are ripe. There’s a reason why Adam’s bible keeps falling open to the Book of Job. There are crows, worms, whatever can happen to a tree, forced acknowledgment of the denied tragedy of Ivan’s life, an interesting misreading of Job and more as Adam tries to crack Ivan’s cheerful faith.
I don’t like the characters in “Adam’s Apples” but I found that I cared about them in this just short of tragic comedy.
I wasn’t really please with the Shorts Program II, a series of documentary shorts. None of them were bad, as has happened in past shorts programs, I just wasn’t really engaged despite it all. The best of the bunch was “Rape for Who I Am” which discusses the instance of lesbians in South Africa being raped for being gay and the lesbian community’s efforts to draw attention to these rapes as hate crimes. The other one I really liked was “No Umbrella -- Election Day in the City” about problems with the 2004 election in Ohio and the efforts of one octogenarian councilwoman to get more voting boots at a very busy district. I wouldn't want to argue with her, she reminded me of some very fierce older women I love and respect.
This has been one of my best Sundance weekends in years. I hope the rest of the fest continues on the same note.
Do you remember “Kiss of the Spider Woman”? It’s hard to believe that Nick Nolte is the same actor, only the quality of his performance is a giveaway.
Nolte plays Ray, a drunk, ill, part-time high school umpire in “Off the Black” (it’s a baseball term see the movie or look it up) Trevor Morgan plays David, a promising pitcher whose team doesn’t make the playoffs because of Ray’s call. In a fit of adolescent vengeance David and two friends vandalize Ray’s house. David gets caught and told if he cleans up the police will not be called and if goes to Ray’s 40th high school reunion pretending to be his son David’s father will not be called about a broken car window.
The friendship that develops between Ray and David is like a warped ideal of the father-son relationship. Maybe more uncle-nephew since they can talk more openly than most parents and children I have known. After all it’s Ray and not David’s father who takes David fishing for the first time. David’s relationships with his father and his sister are not explored deeply, but it is not ignored.
This one will make you laugh and made grown men cry. This is a chick movie for guys, and that’s not bad.
I ended the evening with “Little Miss Sunshine” which I read this morning (Monday) has been picked up for something like $10 million.
It’s the story of an extremely messed up family. They almost make the non-related family in “Adam’s Apples” look good. There Olive the seven-year-old wanna be beauty queen (who actually looks like a very cute little girl and doesn’t have that creepy plastic look), her teen-age brother Dwight who hasn’t spoken to anyone in nine months, Uncle Frank who is just out of the hospital after trying to commit suicide, dad Richard a failing motivational speaker, Richard’s heroin-snorting porn-loving father (Alan Arkin) who is working with Olive on her talent routine and Sheryl the mom who’s trying to hold the family together.
The family climbs into the VW bus for a trip from Albuquerque to LA when Olive’s regional second place is moved up in the Little Miss Sunshine contest due to a scandal with the regional winner possibly involving diet pills. Clutches and more die during the trip, but the family makes it to the contest just in time.
This film ends the way it should, rather than the way a main stream movie might have it end. Let’s just say, Grandpa is a heck of a choreographer.
I did like “Little Miss Sunshine,” but “No. 2” and “Off the Black” are my best of show so far.
Sunday was lovely, I could've stayed inside drinking my morning coffee, but instead chose to sit in the sun and watch the first two movies at the Broadway line up while I waited for mine to start.
Mine was “Adam’s Apples” a Danish film about a neo-nazi on probation who is to stay at a rural church with a minister who is in denial about his life, a former tennis player who was in prison for kidnap and rape and a middle eastern immigrant who committed revenge armed robbery on one particular oil company’s mini-marts, because he’s political and accuses the company of stealing his father’s land. There’s also the pregnant woman who ends up at the church because she doesn’t know what else to do.
Adam, at the minister Ivan’s behest, sets himself the task of making an apple pie with apples from the tree in the churchyard, as soon as the apples are ripe. There’s a reason why Adam’s bible keeps falling open to the Book of Job. There are crows, worms, whatever can happen to a tree, forced acknowledgment of the denied tragedy of Ivan’s life, an interesting misreading of Job and more as Adam tries to crack Ivan’s cheerful faith.
I don’t like the characters in “Adam’s Apples” but I found that I cared about them in this just short of tragic comedy.
I wasn’t really please with the Shorts Program II, a series of documentary shorts. None of them were bad, as has happened in past shorts programs, I just wasn’t really engaged despite it all. The best of the bunch was “Rape for Who I Am” which discusses the instance of lesbians in South Africa being raped for being gay and the lesbian community’s efforts to draw attention to these rapes as hate crimes. The other one I really liked was “No Umbrella -- Election Day in the City” about problems with the 2004 election in Ohio and the efforts of one octogenarian councilwoman to get more voting boots at a very busy district. I wouldn't want to argue with her, she reminded me of some very fierce older women I love and respect.
This has been one of my best Sundance weekends in years. I hope the rest of the fest continues on the same note.
Do you remember “Kiss of the Spider Woman”? It’s hard to believe that Nick Nolte is the same actor, only the quality of his performance is a giveaway.
Nolte plays Ray, a drunk, ill, part-time high school umpire in “Off the Black” (it’s a baseball term see the movie or look it up) Trevor Morgan plays David, a promising pitcher whose team doesn’t make the playoffs because of Ray’s call. In a fit of adolescent vengeance David and two friends vandalize Ray’s house. David gets caught and told if he cleans up the police will not be called and if goes to Ray’s 40th high school reunion pretending to be his son David’s father will not be called about a broken car window.
The friendship that develops between Ray and David is like a warped ideal of the father-son relationship. Maybe more uncle-nephew since they can talk more openly than most parents and children I have known. After all it’s Ray and not David’s father who takes David fishing for the first time. David’s relationships with his father and his sister are not explored deeply, but it is not ignored.
This one will make you laugh and made grown men cry. This is a chick movie for guys, and that’s not bad.
I ended the evening with “Little Miss Sunshine” which I read this morning (Monday) has been picked up for something like $10 million.
It’s the story of an extremely messed up family. They almost make the non-related family in “Adam’s Apples” look good. There Olive the seven-year-old wanna be beauty queen (who actually looks like a very cute little girl and doesn’t have that creepy plastic look), her teen-age brother Dwight who hasn’t spoken to anyone in nine months, Uncle Frank who is just out of the hospital after trying to commit suicide, dad Richard a failing motivational speaker, Richard’s heroin-snorting porn-loving father (Alan Arkin) who is working with Olive on her talent routine and Sheryl the mom who’s trying to hold the family together.
The family climbs into the VW bus for a trip from Albuquerque to LA when Olive’s regional second place is moved up in the Little Miss Sunshine contest due to a scandal with the regional winner possibly involving diet pills. Clutches and more die during the trip, but the family makes it to the contest just in time.
This film ends the way it should, rather than the way a main stream movie might have it end. Let’s just say, Grandpa is a heck of a choreographer.
I did like “Little Miss Sunshine,” but “No. 2” and “Off the Black” are my best of show so far.
Sundance 2006
Mmm Sundance.
The smell of the popcorn, the murmur of the crowd, the woman sitting next to me with the heavily perfumed lotion (I know it was lotion because she put it on during the movie -- who the hell wears perfume to a movie?)
Anyway.
It’s Monday and I’ve only hit 10 films. I was far too tired for a midnight on Saturday, what with sinus infection recovery and all. In fact, it’s been more than a week since I’ve had a beer. I wonder if my friends at the bar miss me yet.
So, Friday night I started the festival with “13 Tzameti” (Tzameti means 13 in Georgian). This is a rather violent, but wonderful little movie. The main character is a handyman who obtains a train ticket to Paris and paid hotel receipt that have been sent to his employer, who subsequently od’d. While he’s in the hotel the phone rings and he follows the directions out of curiosity. Let’s just say that people have an amazing capacity for cruelty and will gamble on anything.
This decidedly French film, whose director is Georgian, has a feel of late Film Noir and early French New Wave. The decision to film in black and white was a wise one, it keeps the focus on the story rather than on the blood.
So I guess Friday was my day for violence. My second film was “The Proposition.” Screenwriter/Music director Nick Cave even showed up in Salt Lake for a few minutes along with the film’s director and some cast and crew. They only gave an intro, which it was better than nothing, though a Q&A would’ve been nice.
This historical fiction, set in frontier Australia, is the story of the Burns brothers, who are accused of committing rape and murder of a frontier family. Captain Stanley captures two of them and makes a deal with the middle brother. If he kills or delivers the oldest brother by Christmas (less than two weeks away) the youngest brother, Mike, will not be executed.
This is pretty much a violent horrible story told in a beautiful way. The dust and heat of the bush, the sunsets (ah the sunsets - fantastic even by Salt Lake standards), the relationship between the tired, headachy captain and his beautiful young wife, the hate-love between the two older brothers and their love for the rather simple young Mike.
Of the films I’ve seen so far, this is the one I would be most surprised not to see in a theater near me.
Saturday dawned (at noon) with “Special.” A parking enforcement officer joins a drug study, mostly because he’s bored. His reaction to the medication makes him delusional and he comes to believe that his super hero fantasies are real.
Poor Les. He has a crush on the girl at the corner market, his only friends are two brothers who own a comics shop and the men in the suits really are after him.
Other people I’ve talked to have enjoyed the movie more than I did, and there was nothing wrong with it. I just didn’t care for it. Les didn’t move me. I felt sorry for the poor lonely bastard, I appreciated his motives, but he lacked depth. I was neither engaged nor repelled by him. He’s just someone I wouldn’t want sitting next to me on the bus, even when he’s not in his leather super suit.
Had won ton soup at P.F. Chang’s for a late lunch. Not bad, though a bit bland, a nice warm filling lunch for one.
“La Tragedia de Macario” moved me, proving I’m not cold hearted. Inspired by the true story of illegal immigrants suffocating in a truck in Victoria Texas in 2003, this film pulls hard as desperation leads people to their accidental deaths.
Macario is a day laborer on a farm in Sabinas Hidalgo Mexico. Every night his wife fixes beans and tortillas since that’s what they can afford, they argue when he tries to make jokes and then end up sleeping on the floor. When the boss sells his property, Macario and his friend are at loose ends.
It’s a sad hard world that makes $500 - $800 per month boxing tomatoes in San Antonio, Texas look like a good option for two married men, one with a sick child.
The story is framed with a ballad, telling Macario’s story. Each verse acts like a chapter heading of the style, “Chapter 5 in which Macario prays to the Virgin Mary for advice.” It gives a very foreign feeling to an American viewer, but does not detract from the overall feel of the story. The ballad does not turn the movie into a musical in anyway, it just gives cultural perspective.
Remember how sexy Henry Rollins was twenty years ago?
After a supper break (ran home had a sandwich, not exciting) I hopped in line for “American Hardcore.” Unlike the first punk movement circa 1977, this was a very American musical and cultural phenomenon which ran it’s main course from approximately 1980-86. Based on Steven Blush’s book of the same name, this movie discusses the rise of hardcore American punk through interviews and show footage, I just can’t describe them as concerts. I saw a lot of the bands here in SLC at the Speedway, the Indian Center, the Barf & Swill, pardon, the Bar & Grill, concerts did not happen in those places.
Anyway interviews with members of Bad Brains, Black Flag, DOA, MDC -- you or and early forties and spent some time at places like the Speedway, make an effort and check it out. The film, of course, is not the complete story, for many reasons including not enough time for all the stories to be told, deaths and a few requests for interviews being refused, but it’s a good cross section of what Nancy Reagan wanted us to say “No” to.
I ended the evening with “No. 2.” This is my favorite so far, despite tough competition. (I hate the next adjective, but must use it in this case.) The incomparable Rudy Dee plays a Fijian matriarch in New Zealand who wakes up one morning and decides things are too quiet and she wants a party so she can name her successor as head of the family. She doesn’t want her children there, just her grandchildren and “no outsiders”. She wants dancing and singing and fighting, and her grandsons to roast a pig.
The first problems with the plan is a grandson and granddaughter who want to bring their girlfriend and boyfriend, then the butcher is closed and the pig is delivered live (much to Nanna Maria’s great-grandchildren’s delight), her children start to show up, one grandson (after a lecturer on compassion from the priest) decides the party needs to be bigger and starts inviting all of the family friends.
This is a grand story of family with everything Nanna Maria wanted, dancing, singing, swearing, fighting and a roast pig. It’s one of those grand food movies that makes you not just hungry for food but hungry for life.
As I said, I was too tired for a midnight show and am kicking myself for stopping at four on Saturday.
Sunday was lovely, I could've stayed inside drinking my morning coffee, but instead chose to sit in the sun and watch the first two movies at the Broadway line up while I waited for mine to start.
The smell of the popcorn, the murmur of the crowd, the woman sitting next to me with the heavily perfumed lotion (I know it was lotion because she put it on during the movie -- who the hell wears perfume to a movie?)
Anyway.
It’s Monday and I’ve only hit 10 films. I was far too tired for a midnight on Saturday, what with sinus infection recovery and all. In fact, it’s been more than a week since I’ve had a beer. I wonder if my friends at the bar miss me yet.
So, Friday night I started the festival with “13 Tzameti” (Tzameti means 13 in Georgian). This is a rather violent, but wonderful little movie. The main character is a handyman who obtains a train ticket to Paris and paid hotel receipt that have been sent to his employer, who subsequently od’d. While he’s in the hotel the phone rings and he follows the directions out of curiosity. Let’s just say that people have an amazing capacity for cruelty and will gamble on anything.
This decidedly French film, whose director is Georgian, has a feel of late Film Noir and early French New Wave. The decision to film in black and white was a wise one, it keeps the focus on the story rather than on the blood.
So I guess Friday was my day for violence. My second film was “The Proposition.” Screenwriter/Music director Nick Cave even showed up in Salt Lake for a few minutes along with the film’s director and some cast and crew. They only gave an intro, which it was better than nothing, though a Q&A would’ve been nice.
This historical fiction, set in frontier Australia, is the story of the Burns brothers, who are accused of committing rape and murder of a frontier family. Captain Stanley captures two of them and makes a deal with the middle brother. If he kills or delivers the oldest brother by Christmas (less than two weeks away) the youngest brother, Mike, will not be executed.
This is pretty much a violent horrible story told in a beautiful way. The dust and heat of the bush, the sunsets (ah the sunsets - fantastic even by Salt Lake standards), the relationship between the tired, headachy captain and his beautiful young wife, the hate-love between the two older brothers and their love for the rather simple young Mike.
Of the films I’ve seen so far, this is the one I would be most surprised not to see in a theater near me.
Saturday dawned (at noon) with “Special.” A parking enforcement officer joins a drug study, mostly because he’s bored. His reaction to the medication makes him delusional and he comes to believe that his super hero fantasies are real.
Poor Les. He has a crush on the girl at the corner market, his only friends are two brothers who own a comics shop and the men in the suits really are after him.
Other people I’ve talked to have enjoyed the movie more than I did, and there was nothing wrong with it. I just didn’t care for it. Les didn’t move me. I felt sorry for the poor lonely bastard, I appreciated his motives, but he lacked depth. I was neither engaged nor repelled by him. He’s just someone I wouldn’t want sitting next to me on the bus, even when he’s not in his leather super suit.
Had won ton soup at P.F. Chang’s for a late lunch. Not bad, though a bit bland, a nice warm filling lunch for one.
“La Tragedia de Macario” moved me, proving I’m not cold hearted. Inspired by the true story of illegal immigrants suffocating in a truck in Victoria Texas in 2003, this film pulls hard as desperation leads people to their accidental deaths.
Macario is a day laborer on a farm in Sabinas Hidalgo Mexico. Every night his wife fixes beans and tortillas since that’s what they can afford, they argue when he tries to make jokes and then end up sleeping on the floor. When the boss sells his property, Macario and his friend are at loose ends.
It’s a sad hard world that makes $500 - $800 per month boxing tomatoes in San Antonio, Texas look like a good option for two married men, one with a sick child.
The story is framed with a ballad, telling Macario’s story. Each verse acts like a chapter heading of the style, “Chapter 5 in which Macario prays to the Virgin Mary for advice.” It gives a very foreign feeling to an American viewer, but does not detract from the overall feel of the story. The ballad does not turn the movie into a musical in anyway, it just gives cultural perspective.
Remember how sexy Henry Rollins was twenty years ago?
After a supper break (ran home had a sandwich, not exciting) I hopped in line for “American Hardcore.” Unlike the first punk movement circa 1977, this was a very American musical and cultural phenomenon which ran it’s main course from approximately 1980-86. Based on Steven Blush’s book of the same name, this movie discusses the rise of hardcore American punk through interviews and show footage, I just can’t describe them as concerts. I saw a lot of the bands here in SLC at the Speedway, the Indian Center, the Barf & Swill, pardon, the Bar & Grill, concerts did not happen in those places.
Anyway interviews with members of Bad Brains, Black Flag, DOA, MDC -- you or and early forties and spent some time at places like the Speedway, make an effort and check it out. The film, of course, is not the complete story, for many reasons including not enough time for all the stories to be told, deaths and a few requests for interviews being refused, but it’s a good cross section of what Nancy Reagan wanted us to say “No” to.
I ended the evening with “No. 2.” This is my favorite so far, despite tough competition. (I hate the next adjective, but must use it in this case.) The incomparable Rudy Dee plays a Fijian matriarch in New Zealand who wakes up one morning and decides things are too quiet and she wants a party so she can name her successor as head of the family. She doesn’t want her children there, just her grandchildren and “no outsiders”. She wants dancing and singing and fighting, and her grandsons to roast a pig.
The first problems with the plan is a grandson and granddaughter who want to bring their girlfriend and boyfriend, then the butcher is closed and the pig is delivered live (much to Nanna Maria’s great-grandchildren’s delight), her children start to show up, one grandson (after a lecturer on compassion from the priest) decides the party needs to be bigger and starts inviting all of the family friends.
This is a grand story of family with everything Nanna Maria wanted, dancing, singing, swearing, fighting and a roast pig. It’s one of those grand food movies that makes you not just hungry for food but hungry for life.
As I said, I was too tired for a midnight show and am kicking myself for stopping at four on Saturday.
Sunday was lovely, I could've stayed inside drinking my morning coffee, but instead chose to sit in the sun and watch the first two movies at the Broadway line up while I waited for mine to start.
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