Showing posts with label things i hate/like. Show all posts
Showing posts with label things i hate/like. Show all posts

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Ol' Hulia's Mostly Reliable Recommendations for Recently Acquired Media

Now that I have an English degree, I know how to read, and since I don't go to school anymore, I have time to do so. Also, Clark is in a film class, so his homework = watch movies. Here are the fruits of my labor, book-like and movie-like, and some other things I've been spending time with.

The Hunger Games and Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins


No, I haven't stopped reading young adult literature yet, and yes, I'm sure you've already heard about this series, but I just thought I should I should emphasize that they are GOD. DAMN. AWESOME. Everyone knows I love post-apocalyptic stories; Collin's version is no exception. It is vivid and empowering, and includes sentiments of both the power of the individual as well as the power of of a group of downtrodden citizens coming together for a cause. The characters are mesmerizing, the setting stark and severe, and the story positively ruthless. An absolute page-turner, as they say.

My three beefs with these books are as follows: Books 2 and 3 aren't out on paperback yet, they're already making a movie of Book 1, and Book 2 (Catching Fire) really feels like a middle child - forgotten, quiet, maybe a little bit of a people-pleaser. It seemed like, at times, its only purpose was to act as a vehicle to move from Book 1 to 3, and didn't have as much of a story in itself as Book 1 did. It was exciting nonetheless, and I'm getting my panties in a twist waiting for Book 3, Mockingjay, to appear at the library.


Brick, directed by Rian Johnson


This was something Clark had to watch for class, and I'm thankful that was the case, because him taking notes prompted more discussion and understanding that wouldn't have arisen if we'd just happened upon the movie. This is because Brick is a wonderful twist on the essentials of film noir, and knowing these essentials makes the movie much more delightful; you can see both where Johnson gives a nod to the classics and where modernity takes hold.

Instead of being set in gritty L.A., for example, the movie takes place in sunny California suburbia. And instead of a hardboiled detective leading the cast, the main man is a loner high schooler, played by one of my longest-time celebrity crushes Joseph Gordon-Levitt (I know, right?). The movie follows many of the other markers for the genre, however, not the least of which being the heavy reliance on slang in the dialogue. The language itself, immediate and succinct and hilarious, was probably my favorite element of this movie. It can be found on Netflix. Go there now.


Henderson the Rain King by Saul Bellow


I read this book for some extra nerdy reasons, which I will tell you now: I was in an extra nerdy conversation the other day with my friend and Clark's bandmate Ben, who is one of the few people I know who's read more books than I have. We were talking about Salman Rushdie, who you all know is one of the only people in the world who can claim both to have had married a former supermodel and have a fatwa declared on them, at the same time. The man is insane. Anyway I mentioned how when I saw Rushdie speak at CWU a few years ago, his jokes didn't go over well because they were too "literary" (i.e. extra nerdy) and referenced things like obscure Whitman pieces and the writer Saul Bellow, which I'm convinced nobody in my generation but the extra nerdy ones have ever even heard of. So, to recap, Ben is nerdy, I'm nerdy, and Rushdie is extra nerdy, but he has enough badass feathers in his living-in-hiding cap that it's okay. And then Ben lent me this book (actually he lent it to Clark but Clark doesn't know how to read so I just read it and told him he should learn to read so he can read it).

This book is awesome, and not even that nerdy.

The main character is a guy named Gene Henderson, who's like this grouchy fat old guy in Connecticut. He kind of hates his life, but wants to keep living (driven by an undying, unidentified voice pleading I want I want), so he keeps trying new shit to get his motor really going again. He remarries, raises pigs, tries to learn violin, but nothing seems to work, so he third-wheels-it on his buddy's honeymoon to Africa. After helping his friend film or something, he says see ya and bounces with a guide and his jeep into the rocky, mostly uninhabited desert. The following things happen, not necessarily in this order:
1. Walks a total of 30 some-odd days in the sun with no food.
2. Blows up a frog pond.
3. Carries a dead body from his hut to a ravine, only to return to find it in his hut again.
4. Cries on an old lady with a cataract.
5. Saves a village from drought.
6. Becomes pseudo-royalty of the Wairiri people.
7. Consoles a lonely Persian orphan with his pet lion cub.

The story is vaguely picaresque, told in almost a stream-of-consciousness style. Henderson tends to ramble and digress, but he is an endearing character, and is easy to root for, despite his many flaws. The book prompted much pondering and laughter alike.


All the Pretty Horses, directed by Billy Bob Thornton (I know, right?)


I am a longtime fan of this book and a longtime fan of freaking Matt Damon, but somehow never got around to watching the movie until now. But it is good. I loved the sparseness of the scenery and the language, the almost palpable brotherhood between the main characters, and little Jimmy Blevins was just cute as a button and dumb as a rock, but lovable. It wasn't the most stunning film adaptation of a book I've ever seen, and "Some passions can never be tamed" on the movie poster makes it look pretty... "romantic," but it'll do. Also on Netflix.


Ashes & Fire by Ryan Adams


The old boy's done it again. It's been a while, to be sure, since anything Ryan Adams has put out has really wowed me. The most recent Cardinals album I listened to, Cardinology (2008), was fairly forgettable, I didn't even know he'd put out two albums since (Orion and III/IV, both 2010). Ashes & Fire, however, is a real doozy. He's back where the melodies suit him, his acoustic guitar playing is more refined, and the lyrics are as haunting and heartbreaking as ever. Folks of note who join him on this album include Norah Jones, Cardinals guitarist Neal Casal, and wife Mandy Moore (I know, right?).

The man still has some tour dates ahead of him, so catch him if you can. Once I saw him and it was terrible, but then I saw him again and it was amazing. So, it's a mixed bag, I guess, but that's to be expected from this guy, I think. Aren't we used to that from him by now?

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Time for an actual dance dance revolution


So yes I went to Butte again this weekend, and yes it was the folk festival, and yes I'm sorry you couldn't be there Olivia (we'll meet someday), and no Calvin wasn't even invited. Despite intermittent rain, sheer exhaustion, and a complete inability to actually hang out with all my friends who were down there, I had a good time. I got to rock the Tibetan sand mandala scene, the African-American tap dancing scene, Argentine tango scene, blah blah blah, made new friends and kept the old, blah blah blah, got a killer butt workout from walking up and down Butte's goddamn hills for three days, blah blah blah, and in general have only one major complaint:

WHERE THE FUCK WAS ALL THE DANCING.

A festival comprised mostly of music should consequently also be comprised mostly of dancing. You're out all day drinking in the streets, it's inevitable that you're going to need to dance at some point, and since blues, honky-tonk, bluegrass, gospel, Moroccan drumming and zydeco (among other things, obviously, geeze) were all to be had this weekend, it only seems logical that the festival planners allow for crowds to do anything between toe-tapping and competition-level jitterbug. HOWEVER. The dude who decided the seating was obviously an arthritic old dancing scrooge and as he grumbled to himself Friday morning, "If I can't dance, NOBODY WILLLLLLLL," packed the streets so tight with chairs that it was difficult to even navigate the aisles on the sides. AAAAAND the only two stages where they allowed for movement were so inappropriately crowded with people just standing and looking bored as shit that I couldn't do anything. One could say us dancer types were dancing constipated and the dancing Pepto Bismol was nowhere to be found in the medicine cabinet of the national folk festival 2010.
We gotta get this guy a Natural Light.

Two places I found relief were Saturday night at the Silver Dollar (you've yet to fail me, ole Dollar) where a double vodka cran made their house band sound like B.B. King, and Sunday afternoon at the main stage where a kickin but bizarrely apathetic-looking bluegrass troupe (I was under the impression that bluegrass bands were all supposed to be jacked up on Old Crow whiskey and stomping their bare feet all the time???) got even some of those previously mentioned old guys to shake their damn thang. A whomping good time was had by many, especially since there was a mystery keg (?!) like, five feet from me the whole time. Baller.

Sub-complaint:
When is our generation going to learn to dance? Am I the only 20-something in Montana who can do basic eight-count swing and waltz? Why do I always have to rely on smarmy silver-haired men in polos to fuckin twirl me around? Eff, peers! EFF!

In conclusion: Butte, I love you, but you have got to get your act together. Teach Sam and Max how to dance and how to like it, and then maybe we'll talk.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Here I am!

It's true. Max and Calvin are medium blog failures (Calvin is debatably a Taco Bell fire hot caliber failure) so I have come to make Sam quit whining. I don't know what it is I'll write about either, but it's finals next week so any writing that's not me making a curriculum for 9th grade English is great and good.

Notable characteristics:

1. Pleased this has spell check.
2. Naps frequently.
3. Rarely brushes hair.
4. Street cred currently compromised by mononucleosis.
5. Mild dumpster diving skills.
6. Probably won't ever write long blog posts.
7. Thinking about quitting smoking.
8. Pretends to be a musician.
9. Not worried, even ironically, about zombies.
10. Needs to reel in the swears.

Likes:
1. Dogs.
2. Lists.
3. Kate Nash's new album way better than the old one.
4. Big water bottles.
5. Grandma Tanya on Facebook.

Dislikes:
1. Unloading the dishwasher.


Okay I think that's a good inaugural post.

By the way if you totally immediately become my biggest fan and click on my profile link over there and notice that I write for another blog, don't read it. It's for class and the other people have names like "writer dude" and "redhead readin." You know.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Ghoulie and Ghoulia

I'm watching Julie and Julia because I'm a woman with boobies and everything. It's all about blogging, which is what I do. It's really portraying blogging as a life affirming activity. Amy Adams is all about this shit, and it's inspirational. Using this movie's message as a springboard, I'm going to write a cookbook filled with swear words and bawdy pictures of penises.

But let's be serious for a second: Amy Adams is frumpy as heck and awful in this movie. If you're reading, Amy Adams, you were good in Sunshine Cleaning and little girls and emotionally stunted women seem to like Enchanted, so you get a pass this time.

Finally, everyone kept saying "I have to bone a duck," throughout the movie and it tickled me.

Things I hate:
Max - Seriously, where are you?
Avatar - Bad movie, sorry dudes

Things I like:
Video games - my only real friend

PS: If anyone reading this knows anything about Chicago, tell me what I need to see when I go there on Sunday.