79
A brief note to announce two things.
Thing the first: Today marks 79 months of marriage to my wonderful, lovely, kind, understanding, supportive and sexy wife.
Thing the second: I love her so very much.
Happy 79 months, my love.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Something Which Sucks
For the second time in a month, a major motion picture about vampires (sexy female vampires, I should add) is opening without being screened ahead of time. Typically, films that aren't screened for critics (or even advanced audiences) have the aura of stinkeroo about them.
As my lovely wife has pointed out to me on several occasions (usually while screaming at the Sci-Fi Channel), vampires are played out. It's time to move on to something else already. There's only so much you can do with pasty Eurotrash in modified leatherware doing wire-fu against other hellspawn creatures. I mean, Anne Rice is writing about Jesus now. She's done with vampires, and so should be Hollywood.
Same goes for superheroes. Maybe more on that another day, but for now I don't get how "Batman Begins" was so beloved. Maybe if everyone walked out after the first half, but when I saw the Dark Knight crouching in the El station with Katie Holmes, I laughed out loud, watching a guy in an overgrown rat costume be menacing. Instead, he's a deeply delusionly man in sculpted body armor. Maybe it's the era, but trying to make Batman "real" was a horrible gamble, especially when Sam Fisher has stolen his act cold, sans the faux-nihilistic brooding and the bat-gadgets. Deep down, Bruce Wayne has the same problem that I had with Eminem: Both could afford therapy, but they refused to give up the darkness that made them, and I can't adore a "hero" type that chooses to remain disturbed by a trauma they could indeed fix if they tried.
For the second time in a month, a major motion picture about vampires (sexy female vampires, I should add) is opening without being screened ahead of time. Typically, films that aren't screened for critics (or even advanced audiences) have the aura of stinkeroo about them.
As my lovely wife has pointed out to me on several occasions (usually while screaming at the Sci-Fi Channel), vampires are played out. It's time to move on to something else already. There's only so much you can do with pasty Eurotrash in modified leatherware doing wire-fu against other hellspawn creatures. I mean, Anne Rice is writing about Jesus now. She's done with vampires, and so should be Hollywood.
Same goes for superheroes. Maybe more on that another day, but for now I don't get how "Batman Begins" was so beloved. Maybe if everyone walked out after the first half, but when I saw the Dark Knight crouching in the El station with Katie Holmes, I laughed out loud, watching a guy in an overgrown rat costume be menacing. Instead, he's a deeply delusionly man in sculpted body armor. Maybe it's the era, but trying to make Batman "real" was a horrible gamble, especially when Sam Fisher has stolen his act cold, sans the faux-nihilistic brooding and the bat-gadgets. Deep down, Bruce Wayne has the same problem that I had with Eminem: Both could afford therapy, but they refused to give up the darkness that made them, and I can't adore a "hero" type that chooses to remain disturbed by a trauma they could indeed fix if they tried.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Powering Back On
A long weekend for me, with the MLK holiday and all. Did some re-writing, some new writing, a lot of staring at the screen in angst. I have contacted my former writing teacher, who reads drafts for pay, offering feedback for $1 a page. Sounds great, until you look over your lumbering beastie of a novel that weighs in at 400+ pages. Halfway through NaNoWriMo, I got the feeling I drifting into "Historian" territory, or that fertile, robust land of papyrus where the latter Harry Potter books came from. Reminds me of my favorite "Simpsons" throwaway joke. The Simpsons all go to a bookstore, and the sign outside exclaims "Michener. $1.49/lb."
I know my former teacher will give me all of her attention and criticism prowess, but I'm wondering if, at a $1 a page, she'll be shortchanged. Knowing that this will be in her hands in a month casts a pall over my pages, hoping they don't make her run screaming from the room.
Can't be any worse than "DaVinci Code," right?
And hmm, late February, eh? Just about the time my therapist comes back to her full schedule.
A long weekend for me, with the MLK holiday and all. Did some re-writing, some new writing, a lot of staring at the screen in angst. I have contacted my former writing teacher, who reads drafts for pay, offering feedback for $1 a page. Sounds great, until you look over your lumbering beastie of a novel that weighs in at 400+ pages. Halfway through NaNoWriMo, I got the feeling I drifting into "Historian" territory, or that fertile, robust land of papyrus where the latter Harry Potter books came from. Reminds me of my favorite "Simpsons" throwaway joke. The Simpsons all go to a bookstore, and the sign outside exclaims "Michener. $1.49/lb."
I know my former teacher will give me all of her attention and criticism prowess, but I'm wondering if, at a $1 a page, she'll be shortchanged. Knowing that this will be in her hands in a month casts a pall over my pages, hoping they don't make her run screaming from the room.
Can't be any worse than "DaVinci Code," right?
And hmm, late February, eh? Just about the time my therapist comes back to her full schedule.
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