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Words I never thought I'd say: Oh my god I love the IRS! And this is not a joke.
Meanwhile:
I'm working for an hour on Halloween night pretending that some dude's wife is a celebrity and being a screaming fan. It's for this company that creates fantasy scenarios -- anyone remember the infamous Dr. Phil thing?
Off to CT today, so you may not hear from me until my return. Yes, there will be photos of both dresses and many other random things. I can't decide what BPAL to bring.
Brief fandom snark; No, Snape should not have been played by Trent Reznor. Give me something new to whine about at least.
Still have not set up the BPAL filter because I've had no time. It took me days to figure the following out, but the sense of familiarity I have with their Asphodel (I had to try it, okay, yeesh) on my skin, is that it smells like Sydney. Holy mixed-metaphors Batman.
Wild Palms! In so many ways so so so so much worse than I remember, but so ambitious, and in places, so amazing. It might be the thing that I learned my sense of the use and abuse of music in film from, because oh lord, use and abuse they do, and usually it works, even when everyone should know better. What may be most interesting about it is its divergence from what the future actually became. The piece is set in 2011 (which seemed much farther away in 1993), and in the early-90s its set of paranoias made perfect sense, but here we are still arguing about HDTV standards, dealing with a rising China and India (eh for Japan), and this whole terrorism thing. Political machinations are blunt force as opposed to all subtlety and commerce, and so forth and so forth. But what remains the most striking to me about Wild Palms are all the moments of utterly random violence and the shots of people just ignoring it -- a man assaulted and dragged out of a restaurant, another along a tony street, another in front of a movie theater. All these moments of asult involving the well dressed (and by the well-dressed) as the well-dressed ignore them -- this taps into our fear now, as nothing else does -- all this suburbanization, all these gated communities because we refuse to see the enemy is within. There are all these people I want to make watch the thing (Kali, you're on notice), but it's so laughable, and I think so inaccessible, if you weren't aware of it in its original moment. That said, if you've ever been to L.A. and felt the bright shiny dread of the place, it does work a little better. It is for me my expectation of L.A. still, overlayed with my memories of the place, which as all beauty and emptiness and reflections at nothing.
This weather sucks.
Meanwhile:
I'm working for an hour on Halloween night pretending that some dude's wife is a celebrity and being a screaming fan. It's for this company that creates fantasy scenarios -- anyone remember the infamous Dr. Phil thing?
Off to CT today, so you may not hear from me until my return. Yes, there will be photos of both dresses and many other random things. I can't decide what BPAL to bring.
Brief fandom snark; No, Snape should not have been played by Trent Reznor. Give me something new to whine about at least.
Still have not set up the BPAL filter because I've had no time. It took me days to figure the following out, but the sense of familiarity I have with their Asphodel (I had to try it, okay, yeesh) on my skin, is that it smells like Sydney. Holy mixed-metaphors Batman.
Wild Palms! In so many ways so so so so much worse than I remember, but so ambitious, and in places, so amazing. It might be the thing that I learned my sense of the use and abuse of music in film from, because oh lord, use and abuse they do, and usually it works, even when everyone should know better. What may be most interesting about it is its divergence from what the future actually became. The piece is set in 2011 (which seemed much farther away in 1993), and in the early-90s its set of paranoias made perfect sense, but here we are still arguing about HDTV standards, dealing with a rising China and India (eh for Japan), and this whole terrorism thing. Political machinations are blunt force as opposed to all subtlety and commerce, and so forth and so forth. But what remains the most striking to me about Wild Palms are all the moments of utterly random violence and the shots of people just ignoring it -- a man assaulted and dragged out of a restaurant, another along a tony street, another in front of a movie theater. All these moments of asult involving the well dressed (and by the well-dressed) as the well-dressed ignore them -- this taps into our fear now, as nothing else does -- all this suburbanization, all these gated communities because we refuse to see the enemy is within. There are all these people I want to make watch the thing (Kali, you're on notice), but it's so laughable, and I think so inaccessible, if you weren't aware of it in its original moment. That said, if you've ever been to L.A. and felt the bright shiny dread of the place, it does work a little better. It is for me my expectation of L.A. still, overlayed with my memories of the place, which as all beauty and emptiness and reflections at nothing.
This weather sucks.
