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Θάλαττα! Θάλαττα!
I have now seen the definitive screen version of Xenophon's Anabasis: the original theatrical cut of The Warriors (1979) was screening at the Harvard Film Archive tonight. I know it's only loosely based, but about thirty seconds into the midnight summit when I realized I could distinguish Cyrus' gang by their Persian robes, I started grinning and didn't stop until the sun came up over the sea at Coney Island. I am very glad that Orson Welles was not cast as the narrator, because Lynne Thigpen's DJ is all the epic tradition the film needs. I am also glad we saw a 35mm print, because ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel has explained to me how the director reshot the opening of the film to match his original vision of a live-action graphic novel and I cannot imagine it's more atmospheric than the Wonder Wheel drawing itself in neon against the dark, the lit-up windows of the Q train rattling by in the night. It's an amazing evocation of a fantasy world in an entirely recognizable city. I am told we need to see Streets of Fire (1984) next and then I can wander around trying to figure out what just happened to my brain.
This weekend was also marked by eating two meals in a row at M3—newly opened, just outside of Davis Square—but that is because they are the kind of restaurant about which you grab strangers by the lapels and proselytize, which is pretty much what I'm doing now. We tried them for dinner last night, when Rob essayed the beer can hen and I fulfilled some kind of primal need for shrimp and grits and we realized we were equally unable to keep from quoting The Muppet Movie (1979) when our frog legs with harissa arrived. I would have said that their signature dessert of deep-fried fluffernutter resembles a sandwich much less than it does some over-the-top version of French toast, but then Rob ordered the cinnamon bran French toast at brunch this afternoon and it was very clearly its own variety of over-the-top, so I'll just add that I had the pulled pork shoulder hash and the duck apple sausage and some of Rob's chicken and biscuits with buttermilk gravy and I feel it is only by the grace of the ghost of Apicius that I did not blow some kind of umami fuse. It may be worth noting that I haven't actually eaten again today. We split a ginger beer during the movie. There was licorice mint tea when we got home. When I can think about food again, though, I want to go back.
It did not make me happy to hear about Jerry Nelson or Neil Armstrong. Count von Count was one of the formative figures of my childhood and I do not like that a generation that went into space is dying out without a new one to take its place. I am glad that Armstrong saw Curiosity land on Mars, though. And I love Bradbury Landing. It is the sort of reference that a few weeks ago would have been thrown into a science fiction story as a small act of homage. Now, it's geography.
(Nothing had better happen to Dave Goelz any time soon, is all I'm saying.)
derspatchel has explained to me how the director reshot the opening of the film to match his original vision of a live-action graphic novel and I cannot imagine it's more atmospheric than the Wonder Wheel drawing itself in neon against the dark, the lit-up windows of the Q train rattling by in the night. It's an amazing evocation of a fantasy world in an entirely recognizable city. I am told we need to see Streets of Fire (1984) next and then I can wander around trying to figure out what just happened to my brain.This weekend was also marked by eating two meals in a row at M3—newly opened, just outside of Davis Square—but that is because they are the kind of restaurant about which you grab strangers by the lapels and proselytize, which is pretty much what I'm doing now. We tried them for dinner last night, when Rob essayed the beer can hen and I fulfilled some kind of primal need for shrimp and grits and we realized we were equally unable to keep from quoting The Muppet Movie (1979) when our frog legs with harissa arrived. I would have said that their signature dessert of deep-fried fluffernutter resembles a sandwich much less than it does some over-the-top version of French toast, but then Rob ordered the cinnamon bran French toast at brunch this afternoon and it was very clearly its own variety of over-the-top, so I'll just add that I had the pulled pork shoulder hash and the duck apple sausage and some of Rob's chicken and biscuits with buttermilk gravy and I feel it is only by the grace of the ghost of Apicius that I did not blow some kind of umami fuse. It may be worth noting that I haven't actually eaten again today. We split a ginger beer during the movie. There was licorice mint tea when we got home. When I can think about food again, though, I want to go back.
It did not make me happy to hear about Jerry Nelson or Neil Armstrong. Count von Count was one of the formative figures of my childhood and I do not like that a generation that went into space is dying out without a new one to take its place. I am glad that Armstrong saw Curiosity land on Mars, though. And I love Bradbury Landing. It is the sort of reference that a few weeks ago would have been thrown into a science fiction story as a small act of homage. Now, it's geography.
(Nothing had better happen to Dave Goelz any time soon, is all I'm saying.)
no subject
I think a few months ago, judging by when it entered my consciousness. I'm on their mailing list. They have a remarkable number of my cultural touchestones in perfume form now.
My scents map best to Gobo and Uncle Travelling Matt, to no one's particular surprise.
No! How was the party?
Sadly, I grossly miscalculated and missed it, because it was on Sunday, and so was my bus. Next time I will telephone you instead of texting. My weekend, such as it was is chronicled at my blog.
Also, I have pretty much completed the mix of songs I've been meaning to send you (though I am still assembling Tentacular Spectacular, as my Austin Klezmer is as yet unconverted to readable MP3s).
no subject
Hah. I have no idea which ones would work for me; I own and wear very little perfume, because for years I had unpleasant allergic reactions to every commercial kind. I have got a couple of BPAL I am very fond of, though, and I'll happily try samples if I'm ever around anyone who has them. They've never hurt me.
Sadly, I grossly miscalculated and missed it, because it was on Sunday, and so was my bus.
Bah! I'm really sorry. You'll have to come back for the next one.
My weekend, such as it was is chronicled at my blog.
. . . That didn't show up on my friendlist. I shall read now.
Also, I have pretty much completed the mix of songs I've been meaning to send you (though I am still assembling Tentacular Spectacular, as my Austin Klezmer is as yet unconverted to readable MP3s).
Thank you so much. I owe just about everybody music.
no subject
I have deliberately tried lots and lots of BPAL so I know what does and doesn't work on me. Still, sometimes things that sound like they should work on paper fizzle out on my skin or turn into the dreaded 'lemon Pledge' scent.
I have many, many imps and am happy to help you determine what works for you at some point. I am also generally allergic to commercial perfume. The only BPAL I've ever had trouble with are ones that smell a bit like cigarette smoke.
Bah! I'm really sorry. You'll have to come back for the next one.
That is the current plan. :)
Thank you so much. I owe just about everybody music.
Do you Dropbox?
no subject
I have an account; I never use it except for picking up things from other people.