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slipjig3Yes, it's Monday! And you know what that means: we all have migraines! Oh, and it's also time for:
Yet another RaveTen
Books: All right. There's good erotica, there's great erotica, and there's erotica that makes you rethink everything you thought you knew about sex. In this last category, file Cecilia Tan's short story collection Black Feathers. The stories are diverse in content: she can write lyrical and raunchy, scifi/fantasy and reality (including some autobiography), straight and GBL, BDSM and vanilla, from the male and the female point of view, and do it all exceedingly well. It's the BDSM material, though, that conclusively proved to me that I don't know what I'm talking about.
Movies: There has never been a movie that treats its actors with more respect than Vanya on 42nd Street, Louis Malle's last film. Actually, it's not a movie, but a play, Uncle Vanya, committed to film. No, not even a play, but a rehearsal of a play, held in an abandoned movie theatre with no sets and actors in their street clothes, still carying the cups of coffee they bought on the walk over. But in this minimal setting, the actors, including Wallace Shawn and Julianne Moore, do nothing less than shine, more so than almost any ensemble I've ever seen.
Music: The first time I ever heard Hounds of Love by Kate Bush, or rather side 2 of it, I had a panic attack two-and-a-half songs into it, right when "Waking the Witch" picks up steam, and I dove toward the stereo to turn it off with shaking hands. Two weeks later, I made it all the way through, and after that, it didn't leave my Walkman all summer. To this day, "Jig of Life" is one of the most profound religious experiences I've encountered in music. Flawless.
TV: "Dinner for Five" on IFC isn't exactly the newest idea (five people from the independent movie world have dinner in some shmoozy restaurant and chat), but by gum, it works extraordinarily, fascinatingly well. The wine consumed doesn't hurt a lick, I'm sure.
Web Sites: I met Fly Guy via Zannah's link-o-rama blog, and I like him. I like him a lot. Do make sure you tinker with it for a while.
Food: So you have the bag of kumquats in your hand. You say, "Okay, let me get this straight: they look like teeny li'l oranges, but you're supposed to eat them whole? Skin and all?" You take one out, and you bite into it, and that first bite is so unbelievably sour you want to slug the person who told you this was a good idea. But then in seconds the sweetness comes through, and you smile. Then you reach for the bag again. (Many thanks,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vaclav2, for getting me hooked.)
LiveJournals: I am thoroughly convinced thatjoelle_van_dyne is the best thing to happen to geekdom in quite some time. She's cool, she loves bunnies, she gets obscure programming language jokes, and she listens to Bill Morrissey and Bitch and Animal. Oh, and if she offers to burn you a CD: Accept.
Shopping: Flax Art and Design. Cool, nifty, art-centered stuff. Like, stuff you want to blow the kids' school supplies fund on. Look online here, or better yet, get yer mitts on their hard-copy catalog.
Places: So it was Memorial Day weekend, and out of the blue Missy and Vee want to Go Somewhere, on literally 15 minutes' notice. montreal's a bit too far away for the limited amount of available time, so we ponder suggestions. Then it hit me: we'll go down to South Street in Philadelphia, window-shop and people-watch in a countercultural way, buy a cheesesteak, then go home. So we did. And I'm very glad of that.
Whatever: I don't care if it's dead. I don't care if it's artificial. I don't care if it's imperfect and Eurocentric, or if it failed its main purpose of world understanding. Esperanto rocks the Casbah. Not least of which because, to make a noun plural, you add a J to the end.
And strangely enough, I'm not bored with this yet. Groovy.
Yet another RaveTen
Books: All right. There's good erotica, there's great erotica, and there's erotica that makes you rethink everything you thought you knew about sex. In this last category, file Cecilia Tan's short story collection Black Feathers. The stories are diverse in content: she can write lyrical and raunchy, scifi/fantasy and reality (including some autobiography), straight and GBL, BDSM and vanilla, from the male and the female point of view, and do it all exceedingly well. It's the BDSM material, though, that conclusively proved to me that I don't know what I'm talking about.
Movies: There has never been a movie that treats its actors with more respect than Vanya on 42nd Street, Louis Malle's last film. Actually, it's not a movie, but a play, Uncle Vanya, committed to film. No, not even a play, but a rehearsal of a play, held in an abandoned movie theatre with no sets and actors in their street clothes, still carying the cups of coffee they bought on the walk over. But in this minimal setting, the actors, including Wallace Shawn and Julianne Moore, do nothing less than shine, more so than almost any ensemble I've ever seen.
Music: The first time I ever heard Hounds of Love by Kate Bush, or rather side 2 of it, I had a panic attack two-and-a-half songs into it, right when "Waking the Witch" picks up steam, and I dove toward the stereo to turn it off with shaking hands. Two weeks later, I made it all the way through, and after that, it didn't leave my Walkman all summer. To this day, "Jig of Life" is one of the most profound religious experiences I've encountered in music. Flawless.
TV: "Dinner for Five" on IFC isn't exactly the newest idea (five people from the independent movie world have dinner in some shmoozy restaurant and chat), but by gum, it works extraordinarily, fascinatingly well. The wine consumed doesn't hurt a lick, I'm sure.
Web Sites: I met Fly Guy via Zannah's link-o-rama blog, and I like him. I like him a lot. Do make sure you tinker with it for a while.
Food: So you have the bag of kumquats in your hand. You say, "Okay, let me get this straight: they look like teeny li'l oranges, but you're supposed to eat them whole? Skin and all?" You take one out, and you bite into it, and that first bite is so unbelievably sour you want to slug the person who told you this was a good idea. But then in seconds the sweetness comes through, and you smile. Then you reach for the bag again. (Many thanks,
vaclav2, for getting me hooked.)LiveJournals: I am thoroughly convinced that
joelle_van_dyne is the best thing to happen to geekdom in quite some time. She's cool, she loves bunnies, she gets obscure programming language jokes, and she listens to Bill Morrissey and Bitch and Animal. Oh, and if she offers to burn you a CD: Accept.Shopping: Flax Art and Design. Cool, nifty, art-centered stuff. Like, stuff you want to blow the kids' school supplies fund on. Look online here, or better yet, get yer mitts on their hard-copy catalog.
Places: So it was Memorial Day weekend, and out of the blue Missy and Vee want to Go Somewhere, on literally 15 minutes' notice. montreal's a bit too far away for the limited amount of available time, so we ponder suggestions. Then it hit me: we'll go down to South Street in Philadelphia, window-shop and people-watch in a countercultural way, buy a cheesesteak, then go home. So we did. And I'm very glad of that.
Whatever: I don't care if it's dead. I don't care if it's artificial. I don't care if it's imperfect and Eurocentric, or if it failed its main purpose of world understanding. Esperanto rocks the Casbah. Not least of which because, to make a noun plural, you add a J to the end.
And strangely enough, I'm not bored with this yet. Groovy.
