Shopping for a guitar is a complicated affair. On one hand, you have to consider how you’re going to look on-stage. When I decided “That’s it, I’m getting a guitar”, the first thing that came to mind was a Les Paul:
The problem with a Les Paul is that, let’s face it, we’re not all Zakk Wylde. Or Slash. Hell, even Jimmy Page, who is about the dorkiest 110-lb. weakling ever to lay hands on a guitar pick, looks about 10,000x better than me slinging a Les Paul. Besides, one thing they don’t tell you: Les Pauls are heavy. Heavy with attitude.
Which is why I settled for a Fender Strat. Not only does it veer me straight out of any guitar acrobatics, it fits my general attitude towards guitar playing. That is, making funny faces while playing, having shitty hair, and not having a 12 inch dick.
High Fidelity: A top 10 list without High Fidelity is like eating your mom without cooking her first.
LA Story: Because we need to remember that Steve Martin not always sucked.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: I watched this movie next to a girl that cried for an hour straight. I went to the bathroom, and did the right thing when I came back: sat somewhere else.
Lost in Translation: Bill Murray: one of the few guys in Hollywood that can convey absolute desperation with a simple look at the camera.
Léon: The real love story is between Jean Renó and his plant. Watch the european uncut version for 15 more minutes of hot underage russian roulette action.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: I remember watching this in theaters, and the guy behind me going “Flying chinese dudes LOL!” the entire fucking movie. Yes, there’s a chinese dude. Yes, he’s flying. Get the fuck over it!
Almost Famous: “Great art is about conflict and pain and guilt and longing and love disguised as sex, and sex disguised as love.”
As Good As It Gets: That scene at the end when he looks at the lines in between the street tiles, and decides to go ahead and step on them? That’s sacrifice.
Chasing Amy: Kevin Smith peaked way too early. I still like him, but back then, I used to love him, and Chasing Amy was the main reason.
The Fountain: This movie reminds me of my brother. I miss him.
Heath Ledger, dead at 28. While I’m not usually one to cry “TRAGEDY!” when people I don’t know die, Mr. Ledger was one of the few young actors who made it worthwile watching them grow. He will be sorely missed, if only because his turn as The Joker looks genuinely interesting.
One of the perks about working at a bank is that the quality of the “free shit” that you have access to from time to time tends to be surprisingly high. And I don’t mean “Free leftover snacks in the kitchen” nice, I mean, “Red carpet premiere with Mr. Frodo Baggins, followed by drinks with Almodovar” kind of nice. That’s perhaps misleading, as I believe I couldn’t be any more detached from Mr. Wood and Mrs. Almodovar circle of acquaintances, but, as prone to being star-struck as I am, being in the same room with them was something else altogether.
One of my questions, and maybe the reason why I won’t be catching any more free screenings, was “How come Javier Bardem’s latest movie, the one he won a Golden Globe for, still isn’t showing in Spain?”. The answer was a bit surprising, but expected: “Do you really think there’s money to be made for a Cohen Brothers in the spanish market?”, to which I answered “Well, it’s supposed be good“.
Long pause.
”Oh.”
Another gem I took away from the event was from a high-profile producer, who lamented the fact that even though they were making sure they were only financing movies with “popular appeal”, they still weren’t making a lot of money on them. I’m sure my definition of a lot of money doesn’t quite match his, but his lament actually helped me understand why spanish cinema, with few brave exceptions, is Shit, capital S. Not THE shit, just regular old shit.
(Like, from a butt.)
I’m back from this year’s holidays, the first time I’ve gone back home for Christmas and New Year, and also the first time in years I’m excited at the prospect of the coming, well, year. I think after the first three or four times I went back home after moving out, I sort of started writing off the experience as “shit”, due to many things: the weather, my allergies, the fact that there is nothing to do while I’m there, etc., but this year, travelling with zero intentions of keeping myself in touch with the office, I actually had a more relaxed trip than I’ve had in a while.
It’s funny how slow these past 2 weeks have passed, and not because I was bored out of my skull, as it usually happens. I somehow walked away from the entire experience feeling like I had learned something. Whether this newfound knowledge is something that I needed, wanted, deserved, or will act upon, is something that remains to be seen. For now, I’ll just say that paying through the nose for an airplane ticket smack in the middle of the holidays was not only worth the money, but my time, and I actually look forward to doing the time warp (again) nextthis year.
So, hot on the heels of Penny Arcade dealing with the trials and tribulations of Facebook, I have decided to see what this newfangled technology is all about. (You damned kids get off my lawn!). I have been given powerful arguments (”Everybody has one”, and “It’s like, mandatory these days”), but the one that convinced me was an embarassing picture of one of my friends. *cough*Charles*cough*
I thought “I need to be embarassed too! I NEED THIS!”.What I really do need is more online stuff that requires time to update, so I can leave it unattended for people to wonder “Is he still alive?”. So, look me up. I’ll write some stuff on your wall, I’ll comment on your pictures, I’ll be your online friend!
-”The other night, I dreamt me and some friends went out, and we just ate all this junk food. It was awesome.”
-”Well, the other night, I dreamt I could just wave my hand around, and get a horn hit. You know, like James Brown. He whips his hand around, and his band punctuates it with horn hits.”
(James Brown was fucking crazy. Check out 1m30 and 4m30 of that clip. The man was on-fire. Also, on-topic and related.)
I look up, and my friend is staring at me like I just told her I wanted to have a threesome with her mother. Is it so unreasonable to dream with the superpower to jazz up your every day shit? If you combined that with a Bollywood movie, you could be standing in line for a salad, talking to somebody, and after each phrase the horns would come in. All of a sudden, you start dancing, everybody knows the steps, everybody knows the song. People have a good time at the salad line, and then the song ends, everybody strikes a pose and everything goes back to normal. You pay for your salad, and your life goes on.
But yeah, dreaming that you ate junk food?
Totally normal.
