Upon further inspection, Tavia is correct. The yellow flowers in front of our house are, in fact, St. John's Wort. I didn't see the "many little stems" in the center of the flowers until I looked closely. I assume the blossoms are small because they are in full sun most of the day, so if they like the shade they're in the wrong spot.
We've been fortunate in Portland to have a Spring that's been a little wetter than average, thus rendering unnecessary the worry about the skimpy snow pack, urethra-wide rivers and heavy watering of lawns that has accompanied the season the last couple of years. But now our dry season is beginning, so I'll finally have to get out our soaker hoses and give the crispy plants a drink.
The grass, on the other hand, can fend for itself!
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Friday, June 30, 2006
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Our visitors from Romania
Early yesterday evening I was watching "Jeopardy" (yes, I know, I'm a square) when there came a knock at the door. I was expecting the usual visitor asking to sign a petition or to dump chemicals on my lawn "because your neighbors all do it and (sneering askance at our scraggly-ass grass), well, damn."
However, it turned out to be a short, dark-haired, middle-aged woman with a young child in tow and a babushka'ed babushka a few paces behind.
"Sorry to bother you," she said in heavily-accented English, "but you have some flowers in your yard and we wondered if you could tell us what they are. We are from Romania and we use the flowers to help stomach aches. We have not seen them anywhere else."
I explained that I'm not much of a gardener, as one could tell by looking at our scraggly-ass grass, 'cause, well, damn. But I went out with her to the phalanx of flowers that our house's previous owners had planted around the front edge of our lawn. She pointed out some flowers that bore yellow blossoms about the size of a quarter:
I told her she was welcome to take as many as she wanted and show them to somebody who knew at least SOMETHING about flowers. The woman translated this for the babushka, whose broad smile revealed a number of metal covered teeth that glinted in the afternoon sun. She began gathering the plants and flowers as her (I guess) daughter explained how one can dry the greens in the sun and then make tea out of them. "Very good for stomach," she explained.
An aside: I had a total "Curb Your Enthusiasm moment" as the elderly woman straight from "Babushka Central Casting" pulled up more than half of the flowers. I am ashamed to admit that I felt like yelling, "Hey! Hey! I didn't say you could take ALL of them!" even though it was obvious that tending the foliage was not a top priority for me.
Anyway, my money is on my sister, Tavia, for the first to identify the flowers in the photo. Dr. Lizardo may come in a close second. I just hope the flowers aren't some lethal mutant variety that have killed all our Romanian neighbors by now.
"Ah yes," the forensic botanist will explain as they haul me off to jail, "this isn't dandygold. This is 'fool's dandygold,' better known as 'deadly creeping yellow gut claw.' It's a common mistake."
However, it turned out to be a short, dark-haired, middle-aged woman with a young child in tow and a babushka'ed babushka a few paces behind.
"Sorry to bother you," she said in heavily-accented English, "but you have some flowers in your yard and we wondered if you could tell us what they are. We are from Romania and we use the flowers to help stomach aches. We have not seen them anywhere else."
I explained that I'm not much of a gardener, as one could tell by looking at our scraggly-ass grass, 'cause, well, damn. But I went out with her to the phalanx of flowers that our house's previous owners had planted around the front edge of our lawn. She pointed out some flowers that bore yellow blossoms about the size of a quarter:
I told her she was welcome to take as many as she wanted and show them to somebody who knew at least SOMETHING about flowers. The woman translated this for the babushka, whose broad smile revealed a number of metal covered teeth that glinted in the afternoon sun. She began gathering the plants and flowers as her (I guess) daughter explained how one can dry the greens in the sun and then make tea out of them. "Very good for stomach," she explained.
An aside: I had a total "Curb Your Enthusiasm moment" as the elderly woman straight from "Babushka Central Casting" pulled up more than half of the flowers. I am ashamed to admit that I felt like yelling, "Hey! Hey! I didn't say you could take ALL of them!" even though it was obvious that tending the foliage was not a top priority for me.
Anyway, my money is on my sister, Tavia, for the first to identify the flowers in the photo. Dr. Lizardo may come in a close second. I just hope the flowers aren't some lethal mutant variety that have killed all our Romanian neighbors by now.
"Ah yes," the forensic botanist will explain as they haul me off to jail, "this isn't dandygold. This is 'fool's dandygold,' better known as 'deadly creeping yellow gut claw.' It's a common mistake."
Monday, June 26, 2006
100 degrees in the shade
...actually, 102 degrees as of 3:20 this afternoon, as you can see from this shot of my handy weather station.
Fortunately, I had the foresight to call an air conditioning tech dude to come and give our AC system a tune up last week. But even working at peak efficiency, the system can only keep it around 80 degrees in the house. But with the low humidity, it's not so bad.
Apparently this is the first time the temperature has reached triple digits in June in Portland. Ever. Makes you wonder what August is going to be like. As bad as Argotnaut's allergies have been, she's been cracking wise about moving to the desert. But with summers becoming hotter, maybe Antarctica would be a better choice. Fewer allergens, and in 50 years it'll be beach front property!
So how do the critters (including Argotnaut) adapt to the heat? By doing as little as possible. Here, A. enjoys the first homemade ice mocha of the season:
Buster plays "possum"
Buddy hordes all the chewies he's stolen from other dogs' yards on our walks.
Me, I'm finally getting around to all the inside projects I've been procrastinating about, like putting the closet doors on the closet in A's office, and installing our shower water recycler. One good thing about hot weather: it makes cooking easy because neither of us wants a hot meal. So it's ploughman's or perhaps some cold pesto fettuccine.
Folks can complain about the hot weather (and believe me, around here they do) but I still think it's better than this:
Fortunately, I had the foresight to call an air conditioning tech dude to come and give our AC system a tune up last week. But even working at peak efficiency, the system can only keep it around 80 degrees in the house. But with the low humidity, it's not so bad.
Apparently this is the first time the temperature has reached triple digits in June in Portland. Ever. Makes you wonder what August is going to be like. As bad as Argotnaut's allergies have been, she's been cracking wise about moving to the desert. But with summers becoming hotter, maybe Antarctica would be a better choice. Fewer allergens, and in 50 years it'll be beach front property!
So how do the critters (including Argotnaut) adapt to the heat? By doing as little as possible. Here, A. enjoys the first homemade ice mocha of the season:
Buster plays "possum"
Buddy hordes all the chewies he's stolen from other dogs' yards on our walks.
Me, I'm finally getting around to all the inside projects I've been procrastinating about, like putting the closet doors on the closet in A's office, and installing our shower water recycler. One good thing about hot weather: it makes cooking easy because neither of us wants a hot meal. So it's ploughman's or perhaps some cold pesto fettuccine.
Folks can complain about the hot weather (and believe me, around here they do) but I still think it's better than this:
Monday, June 19, 2006
Wildlife
June is bustin' out all over here in Portland, as evidenced by the encroachment of various forms of wildlife. Darn critters! Don't they know they should just let us steal the green spaces where they used to live and find someplace else to go?
The most exciting encounter we had was a real shocker. Last Thursday, Argotnaut was getting ready to head to her last final exam and went into her office to grab something out of her backpack. At first she thought one of Buddy's furry dog toys was under it, but then the toy moved! Turns out, it was a juvenile opossum! The little guy was about 6" long (without the tail) and just wanted to wedge itself under one of A.'s many bags. He looked a bit like this:
I fetched one of the cat carriers from the garage and managed to deposit him into that. Fortunately I did that while A. was still at home so she didn't have to worry about the little dude whilst taking her exam, which I know she would have if she wasn't sure Mr Possum was safe.
After a bit of Internet research, I called a local critter control service and they confirmed what I'd found...if the opossum is more than 6" long without the tail, it should be able to fend for itself. We had seen Mommy Possum scurry under our next door neighbor's deck during the last couple of weeks, so I was advised to put the carrier near there after sundown and leave the carrier's door open. In the meantime, I put a shallow jar lid of water and another shallow jar lid of moistened dry cat food in, which Mr P scarfed down at some point during the day. That night, I put the carrier facing the chain link fence that separates us from our neighbor. The chain link was more that wide enough for him to scoot through, and by morning, he was on his merry way.
The only thing we couldn't figure out is how he got in. As one can see from the pictures in the "For the love of dog!" post below, there's no direct access to the cat door for any critter which can't jump, which opossums can't. Also, once in the house, how did he avoid the three alpha predators that live with us, especially Buddy, a terrier bred to murtilate little furrballs.
My theory is that Cookie must have caught him out in the cat coop and he played "dead." Cookie then brought him inside to give us as a prize, a disgusting habit cats have, although it's a sign of affection...I guess.
Fortunately for this hummingbird, he was flying around the other side of the house and nowhere near Cookie's inescapable maw:
Of course, Cookie might not have noticed him, being preoccupied with his fight against literacy:
That's okay, Cookie. I don't want to read about George W anyway.
The most exciting encounter we had was a real shocker. Last Thursday, Argotnaut was getting ready to head to her last final exam and went into her office to grab something out of her backpack. At first she thought one of Buddy's furry dog toys was under it, but then the toy moved! Turns out, it was a juvenile opossum! The little guy was about 6" long (without the tail) and just wanted to wedge itself under one of A.'s many bags. He looked a bit like this:
I fetched one of the cat carriers from the garage and managed to deposit him into that. Fortunately I did that while A. was still at home so she didn't have to worry about the little dude whilst taking her exam, which I know she would have if she wasn't sure Mr Possum was safe.
After a bit of Internet research, I called a local critter control service and they confirmed what I'd found...if the opossum is more than 6" long without the tail, it should be able to fend for itself. We had seen Mommy Possum scurry under our next door neighbor's deck during the last couple of weeks, so I was advised to put the carrier near there after sundown and leave the carrier's door open. In the meantime, I put a shallow jar lid of water and another shallow jar lid of moistened dry cat food in, which Mr P scarfed down at some point during the day. That night, I put the carrier facing the chain link fence that separates us from our neighbor. The chain link was more that wide enough for him to scoot through, and by morning, he was on his merry way.
The only thing we couldn't figure out is how he got in. As one can see from the pictures in the "For the love of dog!" post below, there's no direct access to the cat door for any critter which can't jump, which opossums can't. Also, once in the house, how did he avoid the three alpha predators that live with us, especially Buddy, a terrier bred to murtilate little furrballs.
My theory is that Cookie must have caught him out in the cat coop and he played "dead." Cookie then brought him inside to give us as a prize, a disgusting habit cats have, although it's a sign of affection...I guess.
Fortunately for this hummingbird, he was flying around the other side of the house and nowhere near Cookie's inescapable maw:
Of course, Cookie might not have noticed him, being preoccupied with his fight against literacy:
That's okay, Cookie. I don't want to read about George W anyway.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Thoughts inspired by fresh salsa
For dinner tonight I'm making one of Argotnaut's favorites: bean and cheese quesadillas with spicy fresh salsa. As I was putting in one of the key ingredients -- two fresh jalapeno peppers with all the seeds -- I thought of a German movie A. and I watched not long ago, Schultze Gets the Blues.
In the film, a German miner retires and has to figure out what to do with his life now that work doesn't dominate it. An accordion player, he one night listens to a musical radio show and hears zydeco music, and the rollicking free spirit of the music inspires him to try some new things, among them a cajun recipe. He makes it for some friends he has over for dinner, and the spiciness of the dish somewhat overwhelms them. (Not hard to do, as anything beyond yellow mustard is too hot for most Germans).
Schultze is the kind of movie that Americans find hard to make, and if they do, not many Americans find enjoyable to watch. It's a slow-moving film and deals with a subject not many movies dare to tackle: what do you do when you retire and find yourself at loose ends? For the last four decades or so, mainstream Hollywood films have been dominated by Baby Boomer demographics. In the 70s, movies about rebelling against authority were the hip thing (from "Serpico" to "Easy Rider" and all points in between), in the 80s, it was yuppie greed and temptation ("Wall Street" to "Basic Instinct" and all points in between). As the Boomers started to have families, the 90s and the 00s have been awash with moppetploitation movies from the "Home Alone" series to the "Family vacation" series to the "Cheaper by the Dozen" -type spectacles where a passel of cute kids are jammed into the smallest possible space and fill said space with the greatest amount of noise Noise NOISE NOISE!!!,slime and gas.
Now we have the dawn of the retired Boomer movie. But where Schultze deals with the subject with the reflection, insight and melancholia it deserves, Hollywood deals with it with films like "Something's Gotta Give," a slick production featuring attractive actors meeting cute and breezing to a predictable conclusion.
While I don't have a lot of faith in Hollywood's ability to deal honestly with the problems posed by one's retirement years, the Indies might be up to it. My money's on Jim Jarmusch (see "Broken Flowers").
I'm sure most people feel as incited by this topic as Buster is:
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
For the love of dog!
I woke up this mornin' (Dit DAA-dit dit dit -- insert blues lick here) and, like many mornings past, realized I was crowded into a 1x4 foot space in the bed. This is all my fault, for two reasons. One, I allow the dog to sleep at the foot of the bed, and he takes up the space at Argotnaut's feet, forcing her to sleep diagonally if she wants to stretch out. Reason two is my accursed irresistibility, which prompts A. to gravitate to my side. As you can see below, this leaves me precious little room.
I'm not really complaining, but sometimes I think I let my loved ones get away with a little TOO much.
However, spoiling them does have its advantages. The cats LOVE the cat coop, especially now that I've installed some large platforms that allow them crouch and stand guard like little furry gargoyles.
I've mounted a pet door in our bedroom window that allows them to come and go at will. The door came with two fairly heavy plastic flaps with magnetic strips at the bottom, which afford a degree of weatherproofness. But the cats balked at that initially, so I temporarily replaced the flaps with sheets of heavy vinyl weighted with pencils that enable the kitties to push through more easily. When the monsoon comes, I hope they'll be familiar enough with the process that they'll push through the heavy flaps when I reattach them. By that time, I hope to have more than the two platforms outside the portal that allow Cookie and Buster to coexist more or less peacefully.
In fact, the cat coop will probably be a kittycat playground by then, with slides, trapezes, "Habitrail"-type tunnels, and a hanging garden of faux rodents and birds. OK, I admit that spoiling can be fun.
I'm not really complaining, but sometimes I think I let my loved ones get away with a little TOO much.
However, spoiling them does have its advantages. The cats LOVE the cat coop, especially now that I've installed some large platforms that allow them crouch and stand guard like little furry gargoyles.
I've mounted a pet door in our bedroom window that allows them to come and go at will. The door came with two fairly heavy plastic flaps with magnetic strips at the bottom, which afford a degree of weatherproofness. But the cats balked at that initially, so I temporarily replaced the flaps with sheets of heavy vinyl weighted with pencils that enable the kitties to push through more easily. When the monsoon comes, I hope they'll be familiar enough with the process that they'll push through the heavy flaps when I reattach them. By that time, I hope to have more than the two platforms outside the portal that allow Cookie and Buster to coexist more or less peacefully.
In fact, the cat coop will probably be a kittycat playground by then, with slides, trapezes, "Habitrail"-type tunnels, and a hanging garden of faux rodents and birds. OK, I admit that spoiling can be fun.
Friday, June 09, 2006
It's a silly world after all
It's nice to know that the American Super Bowl halftime show doesn't have a monopoly on outlandish silliness! Check out this snippet describing the World Cup opening ceremony:
"Germany put on a great show before the game started. The opening ceremonies featured goatherds with whips, opera singers with big hair, 15-pound cowbells and break dancers bursting from haystacks."
Hey! The Germans know how to party too, you know!
"Germany put on a great show before the game started. The opening ceremonies featured goatherds with whips, opera singers with big hair, 15-pound cowbells and break dancers bursting from haystacks."
Hey! The Germans know how to party too, you know!
Saturday, June 03, 2006
God told me to kick you in the nuts
Sometimes I have the perfect retort to someone's comment. But sometimes it's also best not to use it.
The other day, Argotnaut and I were downtown, being all lovey and walking hand in hand and shee-it. We stopped at a traffic light and, while waiting for the walk signal (or "Ampelmann," a term which still makes Argotnaut weepy-eyed in its evocations of Heidelberg), we were accosted by one of those raving street preacher types. I'm assuming they have a few of these guys in every larger city, even though I've only run across them in Chicago, Milwaukee and Portland. So I will only provide a short description: haggard, gaunt, lanky, bearded, baseball-capped, grimy windbreakered. As A and I waited, his continuous spiel about the wrath of God and the coming Judgment and the word of God in the Bible and so forth shifted to us. "Yeah, you're smilin' now," he intoned/croaked, "but soon you'll meet face to face with God! And you won't be smilin' then, no sirree, you'll be terrified and you won't be smilin' then..."
At that point, I was prepared to turn to him and say, "Actually, I spoke to God this morning. He said that I'd meet you on the street today. And he told me I should kick you in the nuts. Not my thing, usually, but, you know, God's will be done and all."
Of course, I didn't say this. Nor did I "roshambo" him. But lo, I was sorely tempted Lord, I was sorely tempted.
The other day, Argotnaut and I were downtown, being all lovey and walking hand in hand and shee-it. We stopped at a traffic light and, while waiting for the walk signal (or "Ampelmann," a term which still makes Argotnaut weepy-eyed in its evocations of Heidelberg), we were accosted by one of those raving street preacher types. I'm assuming they have a few of these guys in every larger city, even though I've only run across them in Chicago, Milwaukee and Portland. So I will only provide a short description: haggard, gaunt, lanky, bearded, baseball-capped, grimy windbreakered. As A and I waited, his continuous spiel about the wrath of God and the coming Judgment and the word of God in the Bible and so forth shifted to us. "Yeah, you're smilin' now," he intoned/croaked, "but soon you'll meet face to face with God! And you won't be smilin' then, no sirree, you'll be terrified and you won't be smilin' then..."
At that point, I was prepared to turn to him and say, "Actually, I spoke to God this morning. He said that I'd meet you on the street today. And he told me I should kick you in the nuts. Not my thing, usually, but, you know, God's will be done and all."
Of course, I didn't say this. Nor did I "roshambo" him. But lo, I was sorely tempted Lord, I was sorely tempted.
Comes the Cat Coop!!
Hee hee. I can't resist a cheesy Stan Lee headline!! With exclamation points!!!
Much excitement around here today, for the workmen came for a good old-fashioned cat coop raising! An outdoor enclosure for the cats is something that me and Argotnaut have talked about for, oh, about a decade now. And Buster's insistent peeing beside every open window when the weather was nice strengthened our resolve to the point of writing a check just to get the damn thing done. It was either that or, as my beloved Dad would say, turn to the "10 cent solution" -- 10 cents being the price of a .22 caliber bullet.
We prefer this solution. And it was actually fairly easy because the previous owners of the house had a dog run installed alongside. So it was basically a matter of sealing the top and a few other areas with chicken wire. They knocked the job off in about three hours, and then it was the kitties turn to investigate the new digs. As you can see in the first picture below, we have installed a pet door in our bedroom window so the kitties can come and go as they please. For now, I've placed a TV tray outside the window to make it easier for them to jump up and down. This will be replaced by a permanent platform in the next day or two. The coop actually is bigger than my first studio apartment, I think. How did those kitties get so spoiled? Beats me.
Argotnaut liked the airy nature of the coop so much that she dragged her chaise longue out for some studying and cat surveying. Buster acts as her study mate:
It will be interesting to see how much the kitties use the coop after the novelty has worn off. But if we install a few platforms for them to climb up onto, I don't expect to see them much until the monsoon comes.
Much excitement around here today, for the workmen came for a good old-fashioned cat coop raising! An outdoor enclosure for the cats is something that me and Argotnaut have talked about for, oh, about a decade now. And Buster's insistent peeing beside every open window when the weather was nice strengthened our resolve to the point of writing a check just to get the damn thing done. It was either that or, as my beloved Dad would say, turn to the "10 cent solution" -- 10 cents being the price of a .22 caliber bullet.
We prefer this solution. And it was actually fairly easy because the previous owners of the house had a dog run installed alongside. So it was basically a matter of sealing the top and a few other areas with chicken wire. They knocked the job off in about three hours, and then it was the kitties turn to investigate the new digs. As you can see in the first picture below, we have installed a pet door in our bedroom window so the kitties can come and go as they please. For now, I've placed a TV tray outside the window to make it easier for them to jump up and down. This will be replaced by a permanent platform in the next day or two. The coop actually is bigger than my first studio apartment, I think. How did those kitties get so spoiled? Beats me.
Argotnaut liked the airy nature of the coop so much that she dragged her chaise longue out for some studying and cat surveying. Buster acts as her study mate:
It will be interesting to see how much the kitties use the coop after the novelty has worn off. But if we install a few platforms for them to climb up onto, I don't expect to see them much until the monsoon comes.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Gas prices? Bah!
This is what travelling on Memorial Day should be about!
Lake Shore Drive never looked so good! Story here.
Lake Shore Drive never looked so good! Story here.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Idol chit-chat
A bit more on the "who gets more votes: the President or American Idol" thread:
"But Ryan Seacrest, the show's host, went a bit overboard when he boasted that the 63.4 million votes cast were 'more than any president in the history of our country has received.' It's true that Bush received fewer, about 62 million, in the 2004 election, but that was out of about 122 million votes cast in his race against John Kerry.
And, presumably, that was a one-person, one-vote election. 'Idol' producers encourage viewers to vote Chicago-style -- early and often -- by dialing toll-free phone numbers, over and over, as frequently as they like."
Full article here.
"But Ryan Seacrest, the show's host, went a bit overboard when he boasted that the 63.4 million votes cast were 'more than any president in the history of our country has received.' It's true that Bush received fewer, about 62 million, in the 2004 election, but that was out of about 122 million votes cast in his race against John Kerry.
And, presumably, that was a one-person, one-vote election. 'Idol' producers encourage viewers to vote Chicago-style -- early and often -- by dialing toll-free phone numbers, over and over, as frequently as they like."
Full article here.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
As usual, the good doctor is correct
As mentioned a few posts ago, Dr. Lizardo (link to the right) stated that more people voted for "American Idol" winner Taylor Hicks than voted for President. I questioned that statement but, as it turns out, she is correct.
While I stand by my original statement that more people would vote if it were as easy to vote for President as it is to vote for the "American Idol," the fact is still pretty goddamn sad. I mean, there's a little more at stake in the Presidential election, isn't there, unless Taylor Hicks suddenly gets the power to order troops into battle. I'm sure FOX is working on it. But look on the bright side: could Taylor Hicks make more bad decisions than W?
While I stand by my original statement that more people would vote if it were as easy to vote for President as it is to vote for the "American Idol," the fact is still pretty goddamn sad. I mean, there's a little more at stake in the Presidential election, isn't there, unless Taylor Hicks suddenly gets the power to order troops into battle. I'm sure FOX is working on it. But look on the bright side: could Taylor Hicks make more bad decisions than W?
The Two Towers
Here's what passes for excitement around here these days. Yesterday I constructed (a term that gives the operation way too much credit) two columns of boxes so that the kitties could look out the windows in the garage door. I needed two because they fought over the one. Even with two, it's an uneasy truce:
And so we have our two sentinels on two towers, watching not for orcs but for dogs. But not to worry, the dogs are fighting amongst themselves. Stupid dogs!
In other movie-related news, I went to the Guild Theatre ("that's pronounced 'thee-ah-trah' darling") for the screening of all the work done by students of the Northwest Film Center in the winter quarter. There were three one hour segments, mostly student short films from the basic class I took, but also a handful of more advanced digital video movies and several short documentaries, including a quite good (and infuriating) one on our sorry-ass health care system. Of course, "Dissolving" was the penultimate piece on the last reel, so probably half the crowd had left by that time and I didn't get home until midnight. Plus I didn't win any of the nifty raffle prizes! Drat! But I saw some pretty cool stuff (and some really studenty stuff) and got a program with the names of the film-makers for each piece, so I know who did the good pieces and who did the not-so-good pieces. Which could come in handy if I do some bigger productions and I need to draft some dependable and talented folks. After all, everyone, from John Ford to Steven Spielberg to Jim Jarmusch needs their film posse!
And so we have our two sentinels on two towers, watching not for orcs but for dogs. But not to worry, the dogs are fighting amongst themselves. Stupid dogs!
In other movie-related news, I went to the Guild Theatre ("that's pronounced 'thee-ah-trah' darling") for the screening of all the work done by students of the Northwest Film Center in the winter quarter. There were three one hour segments, mostly student short films from the basic class I took, but also a handful of more advanced digital video movies and several short documentaries, including a quite good (and infuriating) one on our sorry-ass health care system. Of course, "Dissolving" was the penultimate piece on the last reel, so probably half the crowd had left by that time and I didn't get home until midnight. Plus I didn't win any of the nifty raffle prizes! Drat! But I saw some pretty cool stuff (and some really studenty stuff) and got a program with the names of the film-makers for each piece, so I know who did the good pieces and who did the not-so-good pieces. Which could come in handy if I do some bigger productions and I need to draft some dependable and talented folks. After all, everyone, from John Ford to Steven Spielberg to Jim Jarmusch needs their film posse!
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Work ethic my ass!
I have always been mystified by the popularity of "American Idol." How does a glorified karaoke contest become one of America's top rated shows? What's next? Dial-in bingo? (Wait. That could work. If anyone gets rich off of that idea, I want a cut!) And of course, I have no idea who this Taylor Hicks or Nanny McPhee or whoever are. Hell, I only know one of the judges, Paula Abdul, because back in the day a friend of mine used to wear a Paula Abdul t-shirt.
He once wore this shirt to a signing by Glenn Danzig, late of the mighty Misfits. Glenn, not being a particularly tactful fellow, asked my friend "Are you wearing that shirt because you like Paula Abdul's music, or because you want to (bleep) her?" My friend indicated the latter. "Cool," replied Glenn approvingly.
Anyway.
Argotnaut's sister has pointed out in her blog ("Dr. Lizardo" link to the right) that, supposedly, more people vote on American Idol than voted in the last Presidential election. I'm not sure if that's true, but I wouldn't be surprised. Why? Because you actually have to GET OFF YOUR FAT ASS to go vote in an election.
Thus, as was pointed out in a recent episode of "The Daily Show," Bush's 33% approval rating actually constitutes a majority, because only 64% of Americans voted. Ouch.
Are Americans unable to shift themselves off their lard butts because they are lazy? Some would say "damn right" but I say "far from it." It's because Americans are beat, cashed, bushed, bleedin' knackered. We're working longer hours than ever, for less real income, fewer benefits, and still with only two weeks of vacation if you're lucky. Plus, we're up to our ears in debt because everyone has been convinced by (admittedly effective) marketing that we need iPods, an SUVs, PCs, TIVOs, HDTVs (upon which to watch "American Idol") and more than one of just about every other unnecessary acronym you can think of.
So the obvious real culprit is our vaunted "work ethic." If we just stopped working so hard, imagine all the benefits! Lower stress, so that we might be able to get as healthy as the British, who smoke and drink more than we do and eat less healthily than we do but are still healthier. Smaller houses, because we couldn't afford them, thus saving resources, wetlands and the environment. Ditto fewer cars. If we were lucky, maybe even fewer leaf blowers! And we would have more time to cook healthy meals instead of chucking some prefab slab of preservatives into the microwave. We'd have time to spend with our families, or on stress-reducing hobbies, or maybe even to read a bit more, learn a bit more, and realize that the guy in the White House oughtta be tossed out on his ass.
Okay. So the economy would go into the crapper and we'd lead the way into a global economic depression. But you have to take the bad with the good here, folks. So to hell with the "American Work Ethic!" Let's just all be the lazy bastards that already seem to be the stereotype anyway!
He once wore this shirt to a signing by Glenn Danzig, late of the mighty Misfits. Glenn, not being a particularly tactful fellow, asked my friend "Are you wearing that shirt because you like Paula Abdul's music, or because you want to (bleep) her?" My friend indicated the latter. "Cool," replied Glenn approvingly.
Anyway.
Argotnaut's sister has pointed out in her blog ("Dr. Lizardo" link to the right) that, supposedly, more people vote on American Idol than voted in the last Presidential election. I'm not sure if that's true, but I wouldn't be surprised. Why? Because you actually have to GET OFF YOUR FAT ASS to go vote in an election.
Thus, as was pointed out in a recent episode of "The Daily Show," Bush's 33% approval rating actually constitutes a majority, because only 64% of Americans voted. Ouch.
Are Americans unable to shift themselves off their lard butts because they are lazy? Some would say "damn right" but I say "far from it." It's because Americans are beat, cashed, bushed, bleedin' knackered. We're working longer hours than ever, for less real income, fewer benefits, and still with only two weeks of vacation if you're lucky. Plus, we're up to our ears in debt because everyone has been convinced by (admittedly effective) marketing that we need iPods, an SUVs, PCs, TIVOs, HDTVs (upon which to watch "American Idol") and more than one of just about every other unnecessary acronym you can think of.
So the obvious real culprit is our vaunted "work ethic." If we just stopped working so hard, imagine all the benefits! Lower stress, so that we might be able to get as healthy as the British, who smoke and drink more than we do and eat less healthily than we do but are still healthier. Smaller houses, because we couldn't afford them, thus saving resources, wetlands and the environment. Ditto fewer cars. If we were lucky, maybe even fewer leaf blowers! And we would have more time to cook healthy meals instead of chucking some prefab slab of preservatives into the microwave. We'd have time to spend with our families, or on stress-reducing hobbies, or maybe even to read a bit more, learn a bit more, and realize that the guy in the White House oughtta be tossed out on his ass.
Okay. So the economy would go into the crapper and we'd lead the way into a global economic depression. But you have to take the bad with the good here, folks. So to hell with the "American Work Ethic!" Let's just all be the lazy bastards that already seem to be the stereotype anyway!
Monday, May 15, 2006
YAFAH, AY? (Part 2)
I did have a chance to see "Cache" at the Laurelhurst Theater yesterday. It's a very interesting film. Among the most accurate reviews I've read of it is by Michael Wilmington of the Chicago Tribune. Links to many other reviews can be found at the mighty "Rotten Tomatoes" web site.
In a very small nutshell, the film is about an upper middle class French couple with a 12-year-old son who start to receive videotapes on their front door step. The first is simply footage of the front of their residence, lasting the length of the tape:
There is no reason given why anyone is doing this. Read the reviews to find out more, but I can highly recommend the film. It might even be MORE effective watching it at home on a DVD! I'd just suggest watching it with someone else in the room.
There should be a new category for films like this. It's a thriller without thrills, a horror movie without horror in the tradition sense. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be an "unsettler."
From a technical standpoint, I wanted to see it because it's shot on high definition video. Undoubtedly, this was an aesthetic choice by the film-maker...in this way, it's often impossible to determine if the images you're watching are the movie itself, or the footage shot by the "terrorizer" that is merely being watched by the characters. Thus, the line between the characters and audience is blurred.
High definition video interests me because if I make a feature film, it might very well be HI-DV because it's so much cheaper. I'd prefer to shoot on film but MAN the stuff is expensive! Anyway, watching established film-makers use it --another example is "Collateral" by Michael Mann -- is very instructive.
Of course, an awesome story, such as those employed by "Cache" or "Collateral," help a lot. Ah, there's always a sticking point!
In a very small nutshell, the film is about an upper middle class French couple with a 12-year-old son who start to receive videotapes on their front door step. The first is simply footage of the front of their residence, lasting the length of the tape:
There is no reason given why anyone is doing this. Read the reviews to find out more, but I can highly recommend the film. It might even be MORE effective watching it at home on a DVD! I'd just suggest watching it with someone else in the room.
There should be a new category for films like this. It's a thriller without thrills, a horror movie without horror in the tradition sense. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be an "unsettler."
From a technical standpoint, I wanted to see it because it's shot on high definition video. Undoubtedly, this was an aesthetic choice by the film-maker...in this way, it's often impossible to determine if the images you're watching are the movie itself, or the footage shot by the "terrorizer" that is merely being watched by the characters. Thus, the line between the characters and audience is blurred.
High definition video interests me because if I make a feature film, it might very well be HI-DV because it's so much cheaper. I'd prefer to shoot on film but MAN the stuff is expensive! Anyway, watching established film-makers use it --another example is "Collateral" by Michael Mann -- is very instructive.
Of course, an awesome story, such as those employed by "Cache" or "Collateral," help a lot. Ah, there's always a sticking point!
Saturday, May 13, 2006
You ain't from around here, are ya?
The last couple of days, I've had a chance to do one of my favorite things: watch foreign films. While there's no substitute for enjoying the unspoken subtexts and multiple meanings of a clever film in one's native language, in the same way a clever foreign film gives you insight into not only the movie-maker's mind, but into the culture of the movie-maker as well.
The first film I saw was (T)raumschiff Surprise,"* a German film that I bought on DVD for Argotnaut as a birthday present. From the trailers that Argotnaut watched on the Internet, I thought "Surprise" was a comedy that was marketed as the gay German "Star Trek." Three actors dressed as Kirk, Spock and Scotty minced about on the transporter and slapped each others' bottoms. Think Gene Roddenberry channeled through Mel Brooks and John Waters.
As such, I wasn't expecting much from the movie other than a few silly fag jokes and production values on a par with "Xena: Warrior Princess." Boy was I wrong. The movie is actually more like a protoplasmic collision of "Star Trek," all the "Star Wars" movies, "Back to the Future" and the "X-Files." Production values were on a par with the "Star Trek" movies rather than the TV series, with full-on space battles and some really nice effects. It was truly a surprise in being well written, well acted and stunningly photographed. And what did I learn about German culture? Well, not a lot, I guess, other than the fact that even when they're kidding around, European film-makers have a lot more respect for character and plot in their comedies than most American film-makers do. I'm sure they have their share of Rob Schneider comedies, but this was light years beyond that.
The second film I saw was "Night Watch" at the beloved Laurelhurst Theater. Holy crap what a nutty film!
Another protoplasmic collision, this time between "The Matrix," "Blade" and "Gorky Park," "Night Watch" is a Russian film that had as its chief unusual feature an unsparingly crappy background of rundown modern day Moscow. As a review in the New York Post so aptly put it, '"Night Watch" may be derivative of American movies, but when our ideas ooze out of the dank Russian filter they're weirder, crazier, grimier. Most crud can only dream of being as cruddy as Russian crud, so even the garbage wafting through the breeze in front of what appears to be Joe Stalin's idea of a luxury apartment building clocks you right in the spine.'
Even though "Night Watch" was subtitled in English and "(T)raumschiff" wasn't, the latter made a lot more sense. But "Night Watch" was a crazy cool flick. And what did I learn about Russian culture? Well, I think it's gonna take them a while to get over the subconscious dread and widespread, ramshackle decay wrought by Communism. It might look romantic on film, but I doubt it's that way when you have to live in it.
Now the only question is, do I go back to Laurelhurst tomorrow and watch the French film "Cache?" All signs point to yes!
*By the way, "Raum schiff" is a "space ship," while "Traum schiff" is a "dream ship." Thus, "(T)raum schiff" is a pun. So now you get the only pun that I was able to catch!
The first film I saw was (T)raumschiff Surprise,"* a German film that I bought on DVD for Argotnaut as a birthday present. From the trailers that Argotnaut watched on the Internet, I thought "Surprise" was a comedy that was marketed as the gay German "Star Trek." Three actors dressed as Kirk, Spock and Scotty minced about on the transporter and slapped each others' bottoms. Think Gene Roddenberry channeled through Mel Brooks and John Waters.
As such, I wasn't expecting much from the movie other than a few silly fag jokes and production values on a par with "Xena: Warrior Princess." Boy was I wrong. The movie is actually more like a protoplasmic collision of "Star Trek," all the "Star Wars" movies, "Back to the Future" and the "X-Files." Production values were on a par with the "Star Trek" movies rather than the TV series, with full-on space battles and some really nice effects. It was truly a surprise in being well written, well acted and stunningly photographed. And what did I learn about German culture? Well, not a lot, I guess, other than the fact that even when they're kidding around, European film-makers have a lot more respect for character and plot in their comedies than most American film-makers do. I'm sure they have their share of Rob Schneider comedies, but this was light years beyond that.
The second film I saw was "Night Watch" at the beloved Laurelhurst Theater. Holy crap what a nutty film!
Another protoplasmic collision, this time between "The Matrix," "Blade" and "Gorky Park," "Night Watch" is a Russian film that had as its chief unusual feature an unsparingly crappy background of rundown modern day Moscow. As a review in the New York Post so aptly put it, '"Night Watch" may be derivative of American movies, but when our ideas ooze out of the dank Russian filter they're weirder, crazier, grimier. Most crud can only dream of being as cruddy as Russian crud, so even the garbage wafting through the breeze in front of what appears to be Joe Stalin's idea of a luxury apartment building clocks you right in the spine.'
Even though "Night Watch" was subtitled in English and "(T)raumschiff" wasn't, the latter made a lot more sense. But "Night Watch" was a crazy cool flick. And what did I learn about Russian culture? Well, I think it's gonna take them a while to get over the subconscious dread and widespread, ramshackle decay wrought by Communism. It might look romantic on film, but I doubt it's that way when you have to live in it.
Now the only question is, do I go back to Laurelhurst tomorrow and watch the French film "Cache?" All signs point to yes!
*By the way, "Raum schiff" is a "space ship," while "Traum schiff" is a "dream ship." Thus, "(T)raum schiff" is a pun. So now you get the only pun that I was able to catch!
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
First public screening
Last Sunday, I unleashed my second two student films upon the public. By "the public," I mean the poor sods who were actually in the films, and by "unleashed," I mean showed to people that I begged to attend.
It was strange that I felt nervous about it, very much the same feeling of anxiety that I had in the old days when I played live in a band -- part anticipation, part dread, mostly hyperactivity. I understood why I felt that way before a gig because there was always a chance that I'd screw up at a critical moment before a live audience. And even though there was never any chance -- well, maybe a slight chance -- that the crowd would jeer a mistake and pelt me with beer cups and cigarette butts, no one wants to look like an idiot and let down their bandmates. At least not intentionally. Usually.
But I was surprised I had that same feeling before the screening even though the films were in the can and all I had to do was sit in the audience and watch them with everyone else. I guess I had the same (probably) unreasonable fear that people would hate the flicks and make fart noises throughout, or worse yet, laugh during the serious bits, or even worse YET, congratulate me afterwards using the same tone as the boss in "Office Space." "Uh, yeeeeeaaaaaah...ah...that was...reeeeeaaally graaaaaaaayt. Aaaaaaaaah...and if you have another screening? Don't bother to invite me baaaaaaaaaaack, okaaaaaaay?"
We had a good crowd at the Grand Lodge, in the regular theater with a big screen and full-on sound system. That was a real thrill. Plus, as it turned out, the films were well received, with a minimum of farting and misplaced cackling. The best compliment I got was after "Dissolving," when one of the people in Rachel's film said, "Andrew! You really freaked me out. You scared me man!"
"Gee, thanks! I guess." ("Awesome!" I thought to myself.)
Lisa took some nice photos, but unfortunately, both of us forgot to take some pictures of the audience during the screening itself. That would have been really cool. Oh well, it's a learning process. Anyway, here are:
Me and Argotnaut
Me and Rachel, my partner on "Valentine's Day" and also the person who set up the screening (thanks, Rachel)
Channing (who played the "Geeky Guy" in "Valentine's Day," accompanied by Katrina, another of Argotnaut's linguist pals
And finally, Jeremy, who is part of "The Unlikely Event" and also played the hand in the tank for "Dissolving," and his girlfriend, Courtney, who pushed the very high-tech camera dolly in the same film. Thanks to both!
I think next on the agenda will be to do music videos for "The Unlikely Event." Then I can have both music anxiety and film screening anxiety. How fun!
It was strange that I felt nervous about it, very much the same feeling of anxiety that I had in the old days when I played live in a band -- part anticipation, part dread, mostly hyperactivity. I understood why I felt that way before a gig because there was always a chance that I'd screw up at a critical moment before a live audience. And even though there was never any chance -- well, maybe a slight chance -- that the crowd would jeer a mistake and pelt me with beer cups and cigarette butts, no one wants to look like an idiot and let down their bandmates. At least not intentionally. Usually.
But I was surprised I had that same feeling before the screening even though the films were in the can and all I had to do was sit in the audience and watch them with everyone else. I guess I had the same (probably) unreasonable fear that people would hate the flicks and make fart noises throughout, or worse yet, laugh during the serious bits, or even worse YET, congratulate me afterwards using the same tone as the boss in "Office Space." "Uh, yeeeeeaaaaaah...ah...that was...reeeeeaaally graaaaaaaayt. Aaaaaaaaah...and if you have another screening? Don't bother to invite me baaaaaaaaaaack, okaaaaaaay?"
We had a good crowd at the Grand Lodge, in the regular theater with a big screen and full-on sound system. That was a real thrill. Plus, as it turned out, the films were well received, with a minimum of farting and misplaced cackling. The best compliment I got was after "Dissolving," when one of the people in Rachel's film said, "Andrew! You really freaked me out. You scared me man!"
"Gee, thanks! I guess." ("Awesome!" I thought to myself.)
Lisa took some nice photos, but unfortunately, both of us forgot to take some pictures of the audience during the screening itself. That would have been really cool. Oh well, it's a learning process. Anyway, here are:
Me and Argotnaut
Me and Rachel, my partner on "Valentine's Day" and also the person who set up the screening (thanks, Rachel)
Channing (who played the "Geeky Guy" in "Valentine's Day," accompanied by Katrina, another of Argotnaut's linguist pals
And finally, Jeremy, who is part of "The Unlikely Event" and also played the hand in the tank for "Dissolving," and his girlfriend, Courtney, who pushed the very high-tech camera dolly in the same film. Thanks to both!
I think next on the agenda will be to do music videos for "The Unlikely Event." Then I can have both music anxiety and film screening anxiety. How fun!
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