1. I have Tom Lehrer's "That's Mathematics" stuck in my head for no apparent reason except that within the last forty-eight hours I said to someone, "That's paranoia." I am so not filking that one.
2. I am tired. I just took the last of my ten days of antibiotics; they have wiped me out. I had a solid eight hours of sleep thanks to Daylight Savings (no thanks to the house painters who arrived at eleven-thirty on a Sunday morning what is that I don't even) and another hour in the afternoon and I might still fall asleep before two in the morning.
3. At one point in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cucumberseed's masterful "The Love Song of Admiral Piett," the narrator exclaims, "It's like grave robbers exhumed Kurosawa and splashed his guts up on the screen!" Watching Walter Hill's Streets of Fire (1984), as derspatchel and I did on Friday at the Brattle, is a similar experience with the director's id.
( Are we going to talk about it or are we going to do it? )
4. DooWee & Rice is my new favorite amazing affordable restaurant. I can vouch unreservedly for the Vietnamese chimichurri steak and the ginger chicken bao; I have slightly more qualified feelings about the braised pork over seasoned rice, but only because it doesn't come with the great white sauce and that stuff is addictively tasty. The eggrolls are just very solid. Rob and I ate there two nights in a row. I want to go back for the crispy chicken hearts (with or without fries underneath) and the Vietnamese pumpkin soup I saw on the board on Friday, although of course it may have changed by now. The chicken wings with death sauce—"By ordering, you are verbally signing a waiver"—are probably calling my name.
5. The Metropolitan Museum of Art is putting its entire back catalogue of publications online. Goodbye all the time ever.
More and more, I hear about the impending demise of Livejournal, but I will never find Twitter or Tumblr or Facebook a viable or even attractive alternative when it comes to social media. I need long-form. Movies. Books. Photobombs. Random assemblages of days. I'm sure there's an art form to them, but I was not designed for minimalist updates or conversations I can't keep. We might be evolving toward permanent tl;dr. I still need the room to write.
2. I am tired. I just took the last of my ten days of antibiotics; they have wiped me out. I had a solid eight hours of sleep thanks to Daylight Savings (no thanks to the house painters who arrived at eleven-thirty on a Sunday morning what is that I don't even) and another hour in the afternoon and I might still fall asleep before two in the morning.
3. At one point in
cucumberseed's masterful "The Love Song of Admiral Piett," the narrator exclaims, "It's like grave robbers exhumed Kurosawa and splashed his guts up on the screen!" Watching Walter Hill's Streets of Fire (1984), as derspatchel and I did on Friday at the Brattle, is a similar experience with the director's id.( Are we going to talk about it or are we going to do it? )
4. DooWee & Rice is my new favorite amazing affordable restaurant. I can vouch unreservedly for the Vietnamese chimichurri steak and the ginger chicken bao; I have slightly more qualified feelings about the braised pork over seasoned rice, but only because it doesn't come with the great white sauce and that stuff is addictively tasty. The eggrolls are just very solid. Rob and I ate there two nights in a row. I want to go back for the crispy chicken hearts (with or without fries underneath) and the Vietnamese pumpkin soup I saw on the board on Friday, although of course it may have changed by now. The chicken wings with death sauce—"By ordering, you are verbally signing a waiver"—are probably calling my name.
5. The Metropolitan Museum of Art is putting its entire back catalogue of publications online. Goodbye all the time ever.
More and more, I hear about the impending demise of Livejournal, but I will never find Twitter or Tumblr or Facebook a viable or even attractive alternative when it comes to social media. I need long-form. Movies. Books. Photobombs. Random assemblages of days. I'm sure there's an art form to them, but I was not designed for minimalist updates or conversations I can't keep. We might be evolving toward permanent tl;dr. I still need the room to write.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}