The summer season for TV has begun, and all my smart, wonderful, imaginary men are back. Doctor Who is back, and while I'm still a bit ambiguous about Matt Smith in the role, the show just keeps blowing my mind. We're only one episode in so far (ep. 2 is tonight), but I'm already befuddled. It's grand.
In Plain Sight is about to gear up as well. I've so missed Marshall. He's a delight, so off-beat, so smart, so strong. I hope he's a bigger part of the show this year. I hope they find a way to mop up the atrocious mess they made at the end of last season, too. The finale made me ill.
The best news, though, was totally unexpected: Goren and Eames are coming back to Law and Order: CI. I had stopped watching it altogether. Goren has long been on my list of favorite fictional men. He just got better and better with every season, and then, poof, he was gone. That decision never made any sense. With IPS off for the season and CI running random other folk, I had stopped watching USA altogether. I flipped through the other day and caught a commercial for the new season of CI and was delighted to see that they're bringing Goren and Eames back.
I guess with these three shows, my DVR might actually get some use. It will be nice to see these gentlemen do their thing once a week. Of course, once summer is over, I guess the shows will be, too, but at least I can be entertained for awhile....
Showing posts with label the splendid Mr. D'Onofrio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the splendid Mr. D'Onofrio. Show all posts
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Five Most Interesting Imaginary Men
I'm more random than usual today. Who knows what backwash of energy in the neurons prompted this list, but here you have it, the official Dancing Fool List of the Top Five Most Interesting Imaginary Men, in no particular rank order:
*) Mr. Darcy -- Any literary chick worth her salt would have to include Darcy. He has probably ruined more women for real men than any other imaginary man out there. I wonder if he smirks smugly about this to himself. Probably not. He is, of course, above such things. The traits that put Darcy on this list for me are the fact that he does have such deep feelings that he fights so hard to contain, channel, and figure out. He's not a perfect man, Lord knows. He's arrogant, stubborn, and sarcastic. When he realizes that he is in love, though, he genuinely examines himself and while he remains much the same man he always was (nobody wants a doormat), he is willing to bend some when Lizzy does, too. It's a beautiful thing.
*) Dr. Who -- Sheer, raw intelligence and knowledge of worlds and more worlds coupled with madcap humour and adventure, and in the later regenerations, good looks that will absolutely melt your eyes out. If you're curious like me, could you resist the lure of the 900-year-old man in the blue box who could take you to worlds you've never seen or back to see the pyramids being built? Of course, don't do what all his companions lately seem to do and fall in love because there are some fairly nasty commitment issues at hand, the abjectly broken heart of a soldier who is the last of his kind because of his own actions, and there is always the risk that you will be possessed, kidnapped, or killed, but hey, every relationship has its little pitfalls, right? As long as you are just along for the ride, "What could possibly go wrong?"
*) Marshal Marshall Mann -- Rock steady, strong, funny, and smart, but you know, you just know that if it were necessary, this guy would be able to destroy anything put in his path. It's in his eyes behind the gentleness and the sparkle of the humor and in the angle of his body in certain situations, even when he's not holding a gun. He's a man who enjoys knowing things for the sheer joy of turning over the information in his head and playing with it. He can hold his own verbally and physically even with the best of them, and it's always fun to watch him give at least as good as he gets. He's not a sidekick; he's a balancing force, equal and opposite to his partner, and although he is not as loud and flashy as she, it would be a real mistake to assume that he's the lesser because of that.
*) Harry Dresden -- Complex layers of power, lack of self-awareness, self-deprecating humor and intelligence make Harry one of my favorite imaginary men. Those around him see him so much more clearly than he sees himself. He has power to break open creation in his hands, and he constantly tempers that power with restraint, goodness, and dry wit, much more than he ever manages to give himself credit for. Although it seems he is always put in situations that have no solutions without wounds, he strives for resolutions that will only wound himself and the ones who started the trouble orignally. Of all the series I read regularly, The Dresden Files are ones I will buy in hardback and pre-order just to see how he's going to make me laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time, in his next adventure.
*) Det. Robert Goren -- Quirky brilliance, the ability to analyze any set of information given and find connections, a passion that simmers almost always under control, and a seemingly endless base of background experiences and interests make Goren fascinating to me. There is an air of the feline to Goren, both in the way that he deals with interactions with other people and in the way that he sets traps for unwary criminals. The rare explosions of temper are feline, too, big-cat-feline-pushed-too-far dangerous. He's been a favorite of mine since the very first time I watched Law and Order: CI for both his inability to be just like everybody else and the fact that he just doesn't need to be like them, either. As the seasons have gone by, the darkness that hovered in him has blossomed, and Goren has had to deal with things that would destroy most people. And maybe, just maybe, he's been destroyed, too. That's part of the appeal, part of what breaks my heart in some episodes even while I'm shaking my head in others trying to figure it all out.
Here they are, then, my favorite fictional fellows. If you have some of your own, you might post a comment and let me know.
*) Mr. Darcy -- Any literary chick worth her salt would have to include Darcy. He has probably ruined more women for real men than any other imaginary man out there. I wonder if he smirks smugly about this to himself. Probably not. He is, of course, above such things. The traits that put Darcy on this list for me are the fact that he does have such deep feelings that he fights so hard to contain, channel, and figure out. He's not a perfect man, Lord knows. He's arrogant, stubborn, and sarcastic. When he realizes that he is in love, though, he genuinely examines himself and while he remains much the same man he always was (nobody wants a doormat), he is willing to bend some when Lizzy does, too. It's a beautiful thing.
*) Dr. Who -- Sheer, raw intelligence and knowledge of worlds and more worlds coupled with madcap humour and adventure, and in the later regenerations, good looks that will absolutely melt your eyes out. If you're curious like me, could you resist the lure of the 900-year-old man in the blue box who could take you to worlds you've never seen or back to see the pyramids being built? Of course, don't do what all his companions lately seem to do and fall in love because there are some fairly nasty commitment issues at hand, the abjectly broken heart of a soldier who is the last of his kind because of his own actions, and there is always the risk that you will be possessed, kidnapped, or killed, but hey, every relationship has its little pitfalls, right? As long as you are just along for the ride, "What could possibly go wrong?"
*) Marshal Marshall Mann -- Rock steady, strong, funny, and smart, but you know, you just know that if it were necessary, this guy would be able to destroy anything put in his path. It's in his eyes behind the gentleness and the sparkle of the humor and in the angle of his body in certain situations, even when he's not holding a gun. He's a man who enjoys knowing things for the sheer joy of turning over the information in his head and playing with it. He can hold his own verbally and physically even with the best of them, and it's always fun to watch him give at least as good as he gets. He's not a sidekick; he's a balancing force, equal and opposite to his partner, and although he is not as loud and flashy as she, it would be a real mistake to assume that he's the lesser because of that.
*) Harry Dresden -- Complex layers of power, lack of self-awareness, self-deprecating humor and intelligence make Harry one of my favorite imaginary men. Those around him see him so much more clearly than he sees himself. He has power to break open creation in his hands, and he constantly tempers that power with restraint, goodness, and dry wit, much more than he ever manages to give himself credit for. Although it seems he is always put in situations that have no solutions without wounds, he strives for resolutions that will only wound himself and the ones who started the trouble orignally. Of all the series I read regularly, The Dresden Files are ones I will buy in hardback and pre-order just to see how he's going to make me laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time, in his next adventure.
*) Det. Robert Goren -- Quirky brilliance, the ability to analyze any set of information given and find connections, a passion that simmers almost always under control, and a seemingly endless base of background experiences and interests make Goren fascinating to me. There is an air of the feline to Goren, both in the way that he deals with interactions with other people and in the way that he sets traps for unwary criminals. The rare explosions of temper are feline, too, big-cat-feline-pushed-too-far dangerous. He's been a favorite of mine since the very first time I watched Law and Order: CI for both his inability to be just like everybody else and the fact that he just doesn't need to be like them, either. As the seasons have gone by, the darkness that hovered in him has blossomed, and Goren has had to deal with things that would destroy most people. And maybe, just maybe, he's been destroyed, too. That's part of the appeal, part of what breaks my heart in some episodes even while I'm shaking my head in others trying to figure it all out.
Here they are, then, my favorite fictional fellows. If you have some of your own, you might post a comment and let me know.
Monday, October 08, 2007
More CI
The one good thing, if there were any good things, about being sick this weekend was that I watched almost all of the 6th season of Law and Order CI while I was incapacitated on the couch. That show just keeps getting better and better. I am really looking forward to the coming season and the fact that the season will be on USA so I can see it.
My favorite episode was one of the last ones I saw. Goren's father may or may not be a serial killer. That would explain a lot, wouldn't it? I love the way the characters keep getting deeper and more complex.
Well, I have things I'm supposed to be doing, and soon it will be bedtime. I have done okay today, all things considered, but I'm pretty wiped out. I probably needed one more day in the bed.
My favorite episode was one of the last ones I saw. Goren's father may or may not be a serial killer. That would explain a lot, wouldn't it? I love the way the characters keep getting deeper and more complex.
Well, I have things I'm supposed to be doing, and soon it will be bedtime. I have done okay today, all things considered, but I'm pretty wiped out. I probably needed one more day in the bed.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Tennis Is Great and All, But....
I've been suffering from D'Onofrio withdrawal. USA has been showing the US Open non-stop for a week now, and I have been missing my Law and Order episodes. Tonight, though, is Bravo's mini marathon, and I am soaking up the lovely man.
I really hate it when a network pre-empts its regular scheduling for extended periods. I guess if I were a sports fan, I'd love it, but since tennis isn't my particular obsession, I resent having to miss one of the very, very few shows I do watch because of it. It's just another facet of my Type-A coming out, probably.
Oh well, I'm off to the kitchen for a really late supper, and since there's no school tomorrow (thank GOD), I'm going to spend the night watching the witty Mr. D'Onofrio and reading until dawn.
I really hate it when a network pre-empts its regular scheduling for extended periods. I guess if I were a sports fan, I'd love it, but since tennis isn't my particular obsession, I resent having to miss one of the very, very few shows I do watch because of it. It's just another facet of my Type-A coming out, probably.
Oh well, I'm off to the kitchen for a really late supper, and since there's no school tomorrow (thank GOD), I'm going to spend the night watching the witty Mr. D'Onofrio and reading until dawn.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Full Plate
There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want. ~Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes
I have too much going on, and it's only the third week of school. Today, I was at school until 5:30, and as I drove home, I realized that I'd been there almost twelve hours. Why can't I get anything done faster? Other teachers go home at 3:30 or so. Why am I always there so long?
Today, I finished up a packet of material for a parent-teacher night upcoming, photocopied masters to send to print shop, pulled and formatted poems for assignments on Wednesday, corresponded with parents of absent students, was an impromptu website consultant, cleaned my room, and oh yeah, taught some. Once these classes I'm taking at night really get rolling, I don't know what I'm going to do.
How far along are they with that cloning thing?
Anyway, I got home in time to see Law and Order and watch the toothsome (oh, how I love words and that big, wonderful man) Vincent D'Onofrio. I took a long shower and am currently being mugged by Dillon, so life is pretty good. Soon it will be bedtime to enable me get up tomorrow and do it all again.
I have too much going on, and it's only the third week of school. Today, I was at school until 5:30, and as I drove home, I realized that I'd been there almost twelve hours. Why can't I get anything done faster? Other teachers go home at 3:30 or so. Why am I always there so long?
Today, I finished up a packet of material for a parent-teacher night upcoming, photocopied masters to send to print shop, pulled and formatted poems for assignments on Wednesday, corresponded with parents of absent students, was an impromptu website consultant, cleaned my room, and oh yeah, taught some. Once these classes I'm taking at night really get rolling, I don't know what I'm going to do.
How far along are they with that cloning thing?
Anyway, I got home in time to see Law and Order and watch the toothsome (oh, how I love words and that big, wonderful man) Vincent D'Onofrio. I took a long shower and am currently being mugged by Dillon, so life is pretty good. Soon it will be bedtime to enable me get up tomorrow and do it all again.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
The Little Things
I had a confrontation with a student today who is usually a good student. He chose today to be difficult for some reason, and it has totally soured my mood. In an effort to reclaim what had been a peaceful day prior to this, I am going to focus on some of the little things I love.
1) The little cream-colored McCoy planter on my desk -- It holds the blank 3X5 index cards I use as memo pads, notes to class, to do lists, etc. It has two tiny gnomes, one on each end, and is roughly shaped like a log with ivy twining around it. I don't know why it should make me so happy, but it does. Maybe it's the gnomes.
2) Dillon playing with her toy mouse -- Has there ever been anything as heart-cheering as a kitten with a toy? She chases it, pounces it, and brings it to me as proudly as anything weighing less than three pounds is capable of doing.
3) PEZ -- Walking in and seeing all my kitschy little dispensers lining my office walls makes me smile. I wish I could have more of them here at school, but they're small, portable, and tempting in a way that means they'd disappear pretty quickly.
4) Writing with my fountain pen -- Mom and Dad gave me a nice one for Christmas last year. It's not a Mont Blanc (I'd be too nervous to use one, anyway), but it's got good balance, a responsive nib, and I feel loved when I write with it.
5) My maneki neko collection -- Whenever I look at one of my maneki neko, or lucky cats, I can remember Japan and where I was when I bought it. I can remember Tokoname and the color of the tiles in the rain or the wall made from old sake jugs. I can remember the excitement and fun of traveling with my friends and going to pottery festivals where we always bought more than we should have and then struggled like beasts of burden to get our treasures home on the trains.
6) A new (or new-to-me) Law and Order: CI -- When I get to sit and watch the alluring Vincent D'Onofrio take apart some crime from the inside out, it makes me happy. Of course, I would probably also be happy watching Mr. D'Onofrio read from the telephone directory.... I wonder what he'd do with his elegant hands for something as silly as that?
I'll stop with six. I feel better. Now it's time to grade some essays. I have one of my night classes for the first time tonight, and I am determined to get some of this unfinished work done before it.
1) The little cream-colored McCoy planter on my desk -- It holds the blank 3X5 index cards I use as memo pads, notes to class, to do lists, etc. It has two tiny gnomes, one on each end, and is roughly shaped like a log with ivy twining around it. I don't know why it should make me so happy, but it does. Maybe it's the gnomes.
2) Dillon playing with her toy mouse -- Has there ever been anything as heart-cheering as a kitten with a toy? She chases it, pounces it, and brings it to me as proudly as anything weighing less than three pounds is capable of doing.
3) PEZ -- Walking in and seeing all my kitschy little dispensers lining my office walls makes me smile. I wish I could have more of them here at school, but they're small, portable, and tempting in a way that means they'd disappear pretty quickly.
4) Writing with my fountain pen -- Mom and Dad gave me a nice one for Christmas last year. It's not a Mont Blanc (I'd be too nervous to use one, anyway), but it's got good balance, a responsive nib, and I feel loved when I write with it.
5) My maneki neko collection -- Whenever I look at one of my maneki neko, or lucky cats, I can remember Japan and where I was when I bought it. I can remember Tokoname and the color of the tiles in the rain or the wall made from old sake jugs. I can remember the excitement and fun of traveling with my friends and going to pottery festivals where we always bought more than we should have and then struggled like beasts of burden to get our treasures home on the trains.
6) A new (or new-to-me) Law and Order: CI -- When I get to sit and watch the alluring Vincent D'Onofrio take apart some crime from the inside out, it makes me happy. Of course, I would probably also be happy watching Mr. D'Onofrio read from the telephone directory.... I wonder what he'd do with his elegant hands for something as silly as that?
I'll stop with six. I feel better. Now it's time to grade some essays. I have one of my night classes for the first time tonight, and I am determined to get some of this unfinished work done before it.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
The Joys of T-Shirts
Short post, totally non-philosophical. Tonight's set of Bravo Law and Order: CI episodes has D'Onofrio in his usual suits, but it also has him undercover in a t-shirt and jeans and several variations thereof. Mmm, mmmm, mmm. Such a big, handsome man with such big, strong arms and shoulders....
Of course, I'm supposed to be doing schoolwork for tomorrow. However, I just can't look away. This probably means I'll be up really late. It's worth it.
Of course, I'm supposed to be doing schoolwork for tomorrow. However, I just can't look away. This probably means I'll be up really late. It's worth it.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Jumping on the Bandwagon
I have a new phone, and I may regret it, but right now, I'm loving the process of customizing it, or in geekspeak, tweaking it. I changed my wireless service from Company A to Company B because I can drive to my parents' house, less than a mile away, and have service with Company B. Company A's service doesn't extend much past my driveway. It was endlessly frustrating.
Company A doesn't cover most of the state, in fact. When I was driving two hours on two-lane roads during a period where I was teaching for a local community college, I often just sort of crossed my fingers that no deer or drunken loggers would cross my path because there'd be no phone service to call for help. I feel safer now.
I jumped on the bandwagon and got a Motorola Razr. I know everybody and his brother has one, but I have craved one since I first saw the original commercial where it sliced through the words. Mine is hot pink. I'm not usually a fan of hot pink, but it seemed to fit. Last night, after hours of trying to connect and finally replacing the data cable that connects the phone to my computer, I uploaded the original theme song from Wonder Woman to be my ringtone. I've been waiting on somebody to call me just so I can have the pleasant surprise of hearing that explosion and then the dramatic choir of "Wonder Womaaann....dum de dum dum....". It's the little things that get you through the day, you know.
Since I was up so late working on getting that crucial task accomplished, I am wiped out right now. There are a couple of reasons why. First, our test scores for the whole school have come back, and they were less than we'd hoped. Much less. I don't want to say much more about that except for the fact that for three straight days, I've been trying to figure out what I could have done differently or more. It's painful and wearying. Also, I've been going full tilt all day trying to ready my self, my room, and all the various and sundry paraphernalia of education for tomorrow's onslaught of students. You can tell I have a positive outlook, no?
Actually, I think I'll be fine. Tonight, I plan to cook a big steak I foolishly splurged on, sit on my couch, and (hopefully) overdose myself on the splendid (one day, I might actually run out of adjectives with which to preface his name) Vincent D'Onofrio. Tomorrow, I'll get up, come in, and do my best. God willing, that will be enough.
Company A doesn't cover most of the state, in fact. When I was driving two hours on two-lane roads during a period where I was teaching for a local community college, I often just sort of crossed my fingers that no deer or drunken loggers would cross my path because there'd be no phone service to call for help. I feel safer now.
I jumped on the bandwagon and got a Motorola Razr. I know everybody and his brother has one, but I have craved one since I first saw the original commercial where it sliced through the words. Mine is hot pink. I'm not usually a fan of hot pink, but it seemed to fit. Last night, after hours of trying to connect and finally replacing the data cable that connects the phone to my computer, I uploaded the original theme song from Wonder Woman to be my ringtone. I've been waiting on somebody to call me just so I can have the pleasant surprise of hearing that explosion and then the dramatic choir of "Wonder Womaaann....dum de dum dum....". It's the little things that get you through the day, you know.
Since I was up so late working on getting that crucial task accomplished, I am wiped out right now. There are a couple of reasons why. First, our test scores for the whole school have come back, and they were less than we'd hoped. Much less. I don't want to say much more about that except for the fact that for three straight days, I've been trying to figure out what I could have done differently or more. It's painful and wearying. Also, I've been going full tilt all day trying to ready my self, my room, and all the various and sundry paraphernalia of education for tomorrow's onslaught of students. You can tell I have a positive outlook, no?
Actually, I think I'll be fine. Tonight, I plan to cook a big steak I foolishly splurged on, sit on my couch, and (hopefully) overdose myself on the splendid (one day, I might actually run out of adjectives with which to preface his name) Vincent D'Onofrio. Tomorrow, I'll get up, come in, and do my best. God willing, that will be enough.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
My Personal Theory on Interesting Men
Here it is. Get ready. You'll want to write this down. All set? Pencils poised?
All men who I find interesting will be one of two things: about to move far, far away or totally fictional.
Proof One: Right after I moved home, friends of mine introduced me to a very handsome, intelligent, wonderful guy from Cuba. We clicked, gently flirted (which almost never happens to me), and hung out with our group of mutual friends. He was the first guy I'd been interested in since Proof Five below, and I was determined not to move too fast like I did with P5. Suddenly, he had to move to take a job near some of his family in Florida. I will never forget the night he told me that. I was torn between crying and jumping up and down like a two-year old at the cruelty of fate.
Proof Two: Last summer, I met an interesting guy whilst I was schlepping twenty teenagers around the U.K. and Ireland. He was cute, sweet, very smart, and a lot of fun to talk to. Needless to say, the trip ended, and that was that. He's in grad school somewhere in New York. Sigh.
Proof Three: While I was in Japan, I went on a trip to Thailand to work with Thai English teachers in rural areas. On that trip, I met a great guy from Ireland. Unfortunately, he was headed back to Tokyo and then back to Ireland. Crap.
Proof Four: The only interesting guy I've even seen in the last twelve months is fictional. If you've read any of my previous postings, then you know I'm smitten with Det. Goren on Law and Order: CI. I know people like him don't exist outside of screen plays, but...sigh...he's just so darn cute and scruffy and tall and smart....
Proof Five: The odd combination of moving and fiction....I met a guy at IU right before I left there and fell HARD for him. We started going out and things were intense. Then, of course, I moved away to Podunk and later to Japan. This is a variation on the theme. The fictional part comes in quite some time later when I found out what a grade-A jackass he was. Things between us ended. (This, ladies and gentlemen, is known as litotes, the gentle art of understatement.) I don't know if he's alive or dead, but can very proudly say that I'm no longer actively rooting for the latter possibility.
I've got to wonder at the psychology of this. Am I only attracted to people who I know there's no chance of my having permanently? I don't really think that's true, especially since I didn't know Proof One was moving when we met. I can see that Proof Two might have been a conscious thing, but I really tried hard not to pursue that interest since I knew it was a three-week thing after which I'd probably never see the guy again.
As for Proof Four, I suppose one can say that's the level to which I have sunk: the fictional. None of the men I know right now interest me at all. I find them all weak, childish, wallowing and reveling in their own ignorance, rednecky, slightly creepy, or some combination of these qualities. Mostly, I just want to run away from them, or barring a valid means of escape, smack them upside the head.
Who knows? Maybe our school will have hired a smart, interesting math teacher or something. Maybe the handsome gentleman from Cuba will come back to visit, or more delightfully, to stay. Maybe the planets will all align and I'll meet somebody from the same weird world in which I dwell. It would be nice to prove this theory wrong for a change.
All men who I find interesting will be one of two things: about to move far, far away or totally fictional.
Proof One: Right after I moved home, friends of mine introduced me to a very handsome, intelligent, wonderful guy from Cuba. We clicked, gently flirted (which almost never happens to me), and hung out with our group of mutual friends. He was the first guy I'd been interested in since Proof Five below, and I was determined not to move too fast like I did with P5. Suddenly, he had to move to take a job near some of his family in Florida. I will never forget the night he told me that. I was torn between crying and jumping up and down like a two-year old at the cruelty of fate.
Proof Two: Last summer, I met an interesting guy whilst I was schlepping twenty teenagers around the U.K. and Ireland. He was cute, sweet, very smart, and a lot of fun to talk to. Needless to say, the trip ended, and that was that. He's in grad school somewhere in New York. Sigh.
Proof Three: While I was in Japan, I went on a trip to Thailand to work with Thai English teachers in rural areas. On that trip, I met a great guy from Ireland. Unfortunately, he was headed back to Tokyo and then back to Ireland. Crap.
Proof Four: The only interesting guy I've even seen in the last twelve months is fictional. If you've read any of my previous postings, then you know I'm smitten with Det. Goren on Law and Order: CI. I know people like him don't exist outside of screen plays, but...sigh...he's just so darn cute and scruffy and tall and smart....
Proof Five: The odd combination of moving and fiction....I met a guy at IU right before I left there and fell HARD for him. We started going out and things were intense. Then, of course, I moved away to Podunk and later to Japan. This is a variation on the theme. The fictional part comes in quite some time later when I found out what a grade-A jackass he was. Things between us ended. (This, ladies and gentlemen, is known as litotes, the gentle art of understatement.) I don't know if he's alive or dead, but can very proudly say that I'm no longer actively rooting for the latter possibility.
I've got to wonder at the psychology of this. Am I only attracted to people who I know there's no chance of my having permanently? I don't really think that's true, especially since I didn't know Proof One was moving when we met. I can see that Proof Two might have been a conscious thing, but I really tried hard not to pursue that interest since I knew it was a three-week thing after which I'd probably never see the guy again.
As for Proof Four, I suppose one can say that's the level to which I have sunk: the fictional. None of the men I know right now interest me at all. I find them all weak, childish, wallowing and reveling in their own ignorance, rednecky, slightly creepy, or some combination of these qualities. Mostly, I just want to run away from them, or barring a valid means of escape, smack them upside the head.
Who knows? Maybe our school will have hired a smart, interesting math teacher or something. Maybe the handsome gentleman from Cuba will come back to visit, or more delightfully, to stay. Maybe the planets will all align and I'll meet somebody from the same weird world in which I dwell. It would be nice to prove this theory wrong for a change.
Friday, July 21, 2006
The Cell (or, The Celluloid Albatross)
USA had this movie on this afternoon, and I watched it because I wanted to see D'Onofrio's performance. I really, really wish I hadn't watched it.
I started not to. Long ago, I decided it was a "Film I Don't Want to See." Friends of mine went to see it during its theatrical release, and I distinctly remember them saying how disturbing they'd found the film at the time. I try to avoid stuff like that. I don't like movies that linger because of blood or evil. There's a surfeit of evil everyday in the news and in the things people to do one another in the real world.
I decided that I would only watch enough of it to see what it might be like and to see why my friends had warned me about it. I'd only peek in to satisfy my curiosity. That, of course, is the classic mistake. The next thing I knew, the end credits were rolling and I knew I was stuck with it, a celluloid albatross around my neck.
Of course, I didn't see the whole film. It was on USA in the middle of the afternoon, so chances are I saw less than 2/3 the original film. There were really obvious omissions and cuts, including the ever-popular gloss over of profanity. I think, but have no way to know for sure, that they cut out most of the most profoundly disturbing parts. What was left was sort of a hodge-podge, but it was enough to do it for me.
D'Onofrio was, as always, very good. The more I see of him in things, the more of him I want to see. I think he'd be a very interesting person to talk to. I want to ask him how he does what he does.
That's probably one of those questions that can't be answered, like when people ask me how I write about this or that. I don't know how I do it. It's an automatic response, like fish in the water.
I wonder if it's that way for him. I wonder if that ability to slip into another person is comfortable. I wonder how he can bear characters like Stargher, or if they stay with him at all. I would hope that they don't. After awhile, I think it would get very crowded inside if they do.
I don't see how that particular role could have been played better. The character evoked an odd mixture of loathing and sympathy. Even though the character was a serial killer, a monster, it was also possible to see in him the damaged child. Maybe that was part of what makes it linger. If there hadn't been something almost pitiful and so desperately in need of protection under the surface of the demon, I think I could have turned my back on the whole thing and not thought about it again.
In any case, I can say that I've seen it in some form now. I still wish I'd left well enough alone. Oh well, so I'll probably have a few bad dreams. I might have done anyway, to be honest. This is a small price to pay when compared to all the other less scary interesting places my curiosity has led me. This time, the thing I had to know about was unsettling. Next time, it might be something shiny and wonderful. As long as that option is open, I know I'll keep following that itching need to know.
I started not to. Long ago, I decided it was a "Film I Don't Want to See." Friends of mine went to see it during its theatrical release, and I distinctly remember them saying how disturbing they'd found the film at the time. I try to avoid stuff like that. I don't like movies that linger because of blood or evil. There's a surfeit of evil everyday in the news and in the things people to do one another in the real world.
I decided that I would only watch enough of it to see what it might be like and to see why my friends had warned me about it. I'd only peek in to satisfy my curiosity. That, of course, is the classic mistake. The next thing I knew, the end credits were rolling and I knew I was stuck with it, a celluloid albatross around my neck.
Of course, I didn't see the whole film. It was on USA in the middle of the afternoon, so chances are I saw less than 2/3 the original film. There were really obvious omissions and cuts, including the ever-popular gloss over of profanity. I think, but have no way to know for sure, that they cut out most of the most profoundly disturbing parts. What was left was sort of a hodge-podge, but it was enough to do it for me.
D'Onofrio was, as always, very good. The more I see of him in things, the more of him I want to see. I think he'd be a very interesting person to talk to. I want to ask him how he does what he does.
That's probably one of those questions that can't be answered, like when people ask me how I write about this or that. I don't know how I do it. It's an automatic response, like fish in the water.
I wonder if it's that way for him. I wonder if that ability to slip into another person is comfortable. I wonder how he can bear characters like Stargher, or if they stay with him at all. I would hope that they don't. After awhile, I think it would get very crowded inside if they do.
I don't see how that particular role could have been played better. The character evoked an odd mixture of loathing and sympathy. Even though the character was a serial killer, a monster, it was also possible to see in him the damaged child. Maybe that was part of what makes it linger. If there hadn't been something almost pitiful and so desperately in need of protection under the surface of the demon, I think I could have turned my back on the whole thing and not thought about it again.
In any case, I can say that I've seen it in some form now. I still wish I'd left well enough alone. Oh well, so I'll probably have a few bad dreams. I might have done anyway, to be honest. This is a small price to pay when compared to all the other less scary interesting places my curiosity has led me. This time, the thing I had to know about was unsettling. Next time, it might be something shiny and wonderful. As long as that option is open, I know I'll keep following that itching need to know.
Friday, June 23, 2006
The Whole Wide World
I got a copy of this film today and watched it. I think it's one of the best movies I've seen lately. Without trying to spoil anything, I cried like a baby at the end.
Dad has always loved Robert E. Howard. He has most of the Conan series in tattered paperbacks, both Howard's and the fruit of those who followed him. Even though I was raised up on Michael Moorcock's Elric with dashes of Lovecraft and later masters like Brooks, Cook, Anthony, and scores of others, I have read very little of Howard. He was the original grand master of them all. Between Tolkein and Howard, almost all of the world of fantasy is spanned. Too many modern fantasy authors are bad imitations of one or the other style, like an image that's been photocopied so many times it's lost its original resolution. I stopped reading the genre about two years ago because I was so bored with the predictability of it. Only a few authors still interest me, Salvatore, Jordan (when I can summon up the patience to make a flow chart to keep up with all his dadgummed characters), but maybe I need to go back to where it all began and rediscover there. Now I am fascinated, and I'm going to have to borrow those books from Dad.
The portrayal of Howard absolutely broke my heart. Howard had universes in his head and the gift to get those out and onto paper. He understood the value of those places and was willing to go there and tell anyone who didn't support that to go to hell. I respect that. He was focused on the thing that he most needed to do and he understood what that thing was. I don't think he fully understood, at least based on the film Howard, how to reach for and hold the human love that would have allowed him to truly flower and live. What would he have become if he'd had someone to be the bedrock from which he sprang? The place to return to from soaring on strong wings? Could he ever have actually drawn from that stability or was he doomed from the start? That story calls to me.
I, like most of us mere mortals, have never been able to get my universes any farther than my conscious brain to play with them. I cannot write fiction worth the proverbial tinker's darn. In the film, Howard says something to the effect of you can't do something else and write, too. I think maybe that's true. Maybe that's why my fiction has always been one step up from toilet tissue. I don't put any time into it, not the sweat and blood immersion that it needs. The most detailed fiction I've done was for use in a game, not for the actual telling of the story. I have stories I'd like to tell, but I don't think I have the discipline to tell them.
For that matter, my poetry suffers from my not taking enough time to let it flow. For me, the instance of inspiration is more like an inescapable cloud burst that has to be channeled at that moment or lost rather than the deep river in which he seemed to wade. It comes over me and I have to write. I have to put it down. Later, I come back to it and tinker. Usually, during that first phase, I write it down as fast as possible, and then I have to get away from it. It bursts out and it clears away whatever thing inspired it. It doesn't really take its final form for a long time after that.
I have often wondered what it would be like to simply take a year and write. A friend of mine from college used to tell me that I needed to do that. I'd like to move somewhere like Costa Rica and spend a year in a shack on the Pacific Coast. Something Elizabeth Bishop. However, I don't know that such a luxury will ever be mine. To do that, one has to have some means of support, and God knows I am so deep in the financial hole now that I may never have large amounts of disposable income again.
The film left me moved as few films do these days and curious. Both of these things are good things in my book. It brought back to me several things that I haven't paid enough attention to lately. It made me hungry for those wonderful worlds of my childhood. Not the childish worlds, but the worlds of swords and albino kings and dragons that shaped me. It's been too long since I took the time to dive deep into those rivers and let the current take me.
Dad has always loved Robert E. Howard. He has most of the Conan series in tattered paperbacks, both Howard's and the fruit of those who followed him. Even though I was raised up on Michael Moorcock's Elric with dashes of Lovecraft and later masters like Brooks, Cook, Anthony, and scores of others, I have read very little of Howard. He was the original grand master of them all. Between Tolkein and Howard, almost all of the world of fantasy is spanned. Too many modern fantasy authors are bad imitations of one or the other style, like an image that's been photocopied so many times it's lost its original resolution. I stopped reading the genre about two years ago because I was so bored with the predictability of it. Only a few authors still interest me, Salvatore, Jordan (when I can summon up the patience to make a flow chart to keep up with all his dadgummed characters), but maybe I need to go back to where it all began and rediscover there. Now I am fascinated, and I'm going to have to borrow those books from Dad.
The portrayal of Howard absolutely broke my heart. Howard had universes in his head and the gift to get those out and onto paper. He understood the value of those places and was willing to go there and tell anyone who didn't support that to go to hell. I respect that. He was focused on the thing that he most needed to do and he understood what that thing was. I don't think he fully understood, at least based on the film Howard, how to reach for and hold the human love that would have allowed him to truly flower and live. What would he have become if he'd had someone to be the bedrock from which he sprang? The place to return to from soaring on strong wings? Could he ever have actually drawn from that stability or was he doomed from the start? That story calls to me.
I, like most of us mere mortals, have never been able to get my universes any farther than my conscious brain to play with them. I cannot write fiction worth the proverbial tinker's darn. In the film, Howard says something to the effect of you can't do something else and write, too. I think maybe that's true. Maybe that's why my fiction has always been one step up from toilet tissue. I don't put any time into it, not the sweat and blood immersion that it needs. The most detailed fiction I've done was for use in a game, not for the actual telling of the story. I have stories I'd like to tell, but I don't think I have the discipline to tell them.
For that matter, my poetry suffers from my not taking enough time to let it flow. For me, the instance of inspiration is more like an inescapable cloud burst that has to be channeled at that moment or lost rather than the deep river in which he seemed to wade. It comes over me and I have to write. I have to put it down. Later, I come back to it and tinker. Usually, during that first phase, I write it down as fast as possible, and then I have to get away from it. It bursts out and it clears away whatever thing inspired it. It doesn't really take its final form for a long time after that.
I have often wondered what it would be like to simply take a year and write. A friend of mine from college used to tell me that I needed to do that. I'd like to move somewhere like Costa Rica and spend a year in a shack on the Pacific Coast. Something Elizabeth Bishop. However, I don't know that such a luxury will ever be mine. To do that, one has to have some means of support, and God knows I am so deep in the financial hole now that I may never have large amounts of disposable income again.
The film left me moved as few films do these days and curious. Both of these things are good things in my book. It brought back to me several things that I haven't paid enough attention to lately. It made me hungry for those wonderful worlds of my childhood. Not the childish worlds, but the worlds of swords and albino kings and dragons that shaped me. It's been too long since I took the time to dive deep into those rivers and let the current take me.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Nothing Lyrical Here, Folks
Just one more thing to say before I go to bed....I saw another CI with the other set of detectives. Are they going to get better? They need to get personalities and strong ones fast, or I think I'm going to cry. I really liked Chris Noth in other things I've seen him in, but what's going on here? It's like they've got him reined in tightly or something. I know he's good; they need to let him out of the box some.
Of course, you know I'm prejudiced. How can anybody compare with the lovely and delectable (a word I did tell my AP kids not to apply to people, but it fits) Det. Goren and his intelligent and witty partner? Maybe I'll get my Goren fix tomorrow night. Oh that the real thing was running around somewhere....all 6'4" of him....
Of course, you know I'm prejudiced. How can anybody compare with the lovely and delectable (a word I did tell my AP kids not to apply to people, but it fits) Det. Goren and his intelligent and witty partner? Maybe I'll get my Goren fix tomorrow night. Oh that the real thing was running around somewhere....all 6'4" of him....
Friday, June 09, 2006
Law and Order: CI
I have gotten hooked on Law and Order: Criminal Intent. I have seen the other varieties of the show, but I love CI. Each evening, I tune in to USA's seemingly endless stream of Law and Order episodes and watch Goren and Eames tear it up. I always love to see the little details that give away the criminals.
My favorite part of the show is the closing of the trap at the end, though. I love the way they mess with the criminal's mind to make him or her confess. Goren always find the right psychological buttons to push and it's fascinating.
I also have to admit that I'm sort of infatuated with Detective Goren. How could you not be? The character is incredibly passionate about what's important to him, super, super intelligent, and, I have to say, very easy on the eyes. I have no idea what the actor who plays him might really be like, but I bet the character's intensity comes from the actor.
Knowing that TV is highly unrealistic, I wonder if any of what goes on in these shows is like real police work. I don't mean the various ways people find to be evil to each other. That I believe is real. I wonder about the solving of the crimes.
Police work is something I don't think I could ever do. I don't think I could ever get the requisite distance to be able to focus and solve the crimes. I think I'd just cry over every victim.
Well, another bad guy has been successfully foiled, so I guess it's time to go get supper from somewhere. Sometime around 10:00, they'll be on again....
My favorite part of the show is the closing of the trap at the end, though. I love the way they mess with the criminal's mind to make him or her confess. Goren always find the right psychological buttons to push and it's fascinating.
I also have to admit that I'm sort of infatuated with Detective Goren. How could you not be? The character is incredibly passionate about what's important to him, super, super intelligent, and, I have to say, very easy on the eyes. I have no idea what the actor who plays him might really be like, but I bet the character's intensity comes from the actor.
Knowing that TV is highly unrealistic, I wonder if any of what goes on in these shows is like real police work. I don't mean the various ways people find to be evil to each other. That I believe is real. I wonder about the solving of the crimes.
Police work is something I don't think I could ever do. I don't think I could ever get the requisite distance to be able to focus and solve the crimes. I think I'd just cry over every victim.
Well, another bad guy has been successfully foiled, so I guess it's time to go get supper from somewhere. Sometime around 10:00, they'll be on again....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)