Author: elvis

Frog in my Hair – I’ll have what he’s having

elvis8 Comments

I’ll have some of what Joaquin Phoenix is having, please: …Out of the blue, Phoenix suddenly changed the subject, asking, “Do I have a large frog in my hair?” 
Reporter: No, no. Phoenix: “Something’s crawling out of my scalp.” Reporter: No, you look great. Phoenix: “No, but I feel it. I’m not worried about the […]

I’ll have some of what Joaquin Phoenix is having, please:

…Out of the blue, Phoenix suddenly changed the subject, asking, “Do I have a large frog in my hair?”

Reporter: No, no.

Phoenix: “Something’s crawling out of my scalp.”

Reporter: No, you look great.

Phoenix: “No, but I feel it. I’m not worried about the looks. I’m worried about the sensation of my brain being eaten. … What did you ask me?”

I’ve been walking around since I read this, thinking I’m worried about the sensation of my brain being eaten. I think I wanna party with ‘ol Joaquin.

Goblet of Fire Book/Movie differences

elvis2 Comments

Warnings for detail geeks. If you’re like me and went through Prisoner of Azkaban saying Wait, that’s not right, get ready to do it a lot more in Goblet of Fire. Here’s your handy checklist: Goblet of Fire Book/Movie differences I’m hoping it’s a Shining thing where it might be wrong, but it’s good. That […]

Warnings for detail geeks.

If you’re like me and went through Prisoner of Azkaban saying Wait, that’s not right, get ready to do it a lot more in Goblet of Fire. Here’s your handy checklist:

Goblet of Fire Book/Movie differences

I’m hoping it’s a Shining thing where it might be wrong, but it’s good. That wasn’t the case in Prisoner of Azkaban, but I’m hearing this is a better film, despite the hack-n-slash on the plot. Goblet isn’t that good a book (WAY too long and with too many plot holes), so it’s got a lot of room for trimming, much more so than Prisoner of Azkaban.

I’m off to see it tomorrow, we’ll see.

I wanna be Titus Pullo

elvis7 Comments

I wanna be Titus Pullo. (Warning, there are minor spoilers toward the end of this, after the cut) If you’re watching Rome you know what I’m talkin’ about. If you’re not watching Rome, well, we’re down to the last episode, so wait for the DVD to come out; which should hit when next season rolls […]

I wanna be Titus Pullo.

(Warning, there are minor spoilers toward the end of this, after the cut)

If you’re watching Rome you know what I’m talkin’ about. If you’re not watching Rome, well, we’re down to the last episode, so wait for the DVD to come out; which should hit when next season rolls around. Or wait for HBO to start a re-show.

Rome is a fantastic show; it takes a few episodes to get going and knowing your roman history helps a little since they don’t always explain the relationships and historical significance of everything. But once the show gets going, it’s fucking brilliant, well written, well acted, incredibly well cast.

But I’ve said all that before.

The thing I want to talk about, though, is Titus Pullo.

Read more “I wanna be Titus Pullo”

Justifiable Homicide

elvis8 Comments

Justifiable Homicide. The brutal killing – sometimes after appropriate torture – of people who richly deserve it. Case in point: customer service reps who fuck something up, then want to argue about it instead of saying I’m sorry sir, I’ll get it fixed. The word service is, theoretically, in there for a reason. You’d think. […]

Justifiable Homicide.

The brutal killing – sometimes after appropriate torture – of people who richly deserve it.

Case in point: customer service reps who fuck something up, then want to argue about it instead of saying I’m sorry sir, I’ll get it fixed.

The word service is, theoretically, in there for a reason. You’d think. Evidently not.

I actually told a woman who works for Wells Fargo “Your email management skills are not my problem.” But you know, in my head her hot red blood was dripping down my arm as I held her tender white throat in one hand, and drew a straight razor slowly across her neck, carving her a second smile.

So what I said? Pretty nice, all things considered.

Pardon me, I need to look for someone to hurt…

that old line about calgon

elvis8 Comments

I’m having one of those weeks. I know I talk about running away to that mythical tropical isle, (or that mythical sailboat so I can visit all the tropical isles) all the time. That’s sort of always running in the back of my head, 24×7. And you know, it could happen, I could just snap […]

I’m having one of those weeks.

I know I talk about running away to that mythical tropical isle, (or that mythical sailboat so I can visit all the tropical isles) all the time. That’s sort of always running in the back of my head, 24×7. And you know, it could happen, I could just snap one day and off I go.

But I’m having one of those weeks where it doesn’t have to be coconuts and tropical breezes. I’m having one of those weeks where just no fresh problems and no backlog of work and no fucking drama would be – you know, swell. Where just having a couple days all to myself sounds like the next best thing to paradise.

I don’t have time for details today. So let’s just summarize:

    Kids school. Headmaster drama. [shudders]

    Work. Review time. Too much to do, no idea where to put my attention. Stress and panic all around me. Impossible schedules.

    Money. God, life was so much simpler way back when we were all rich for those couple years around the dotcom boom. I keep thinking, one more pay cycle and I’ll have this wild animal under control, and then it breaks free again.

    Home. I went on a clean-and-throw-away tear last weekend, and I got halfway and ran out of weekend, which means my house is all garbage bags full of un-sorted kids clothes and the kids rooms are both full of bins of unsorted toys. When it’s done we’ll have a radically much clearer house but meantime it’s a fucking mine field and I don’t have time to touch it; this means everyone’s stressed (is it only me that gets a charge from the chaos?)

Add that to the ever-present list of things to do (bills, laundry, general house maintenance, cooking, cleaning, workouts), and the list of things I wanna do (write, play, teevee, movies, resident evil, read), and I’ve got at least two point five days of stuff for every 24 hours hours of day.

Maybe if I just give up sleeping?

the opposite of nightmare

elvis11 Comments

We’ve all woken from nightmares a time or two. Woken, sometimes gasping, sometimes screaming, sometimes just to an awareness, oh thank god that was a dream. The sweaty, sheets-cumppled, heart beating, terror-bleeding-into-relief feeling as dream fades. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the opposite of that. Have you ever a dream […]

We’ve all woken from nightmares a time or two. Woken, sometimes gasping, sometimes screaming, sometimes just to an awareness, oh thank god that was a dream. The sweaty, sheets-cumppled, heart beating, terror-bleeding-into-relief feeling as dream fades.

But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the opposite of that.

Have you ever a dream that’s so good, so right, so perfect, that waking up feels like a nightmare? A dream of utter contentment, complete perfection, all-is-right-with-my-world.

A waking moment, floating up from the deep, warm, womb-like pool of dream, to find that all life’s problems and pains and losses and realities are terrifyingly still real, and the dream’s bliss, the dream’s utter perfection and contentment, is lost.

I had that moment a night or two ago. At, of course three am – what I call the worrying hour. How often have I had conversations with friends about middle of the night wakings; the eye of that storm turns around three am. AT that hour, life’s tiniest problems are magnified, life’s sturm und drang blown to operatic proportion. I woke, a little after that hour, from a warm and contented dream. Not a sex dream, nothing so raw, intense and carnal. No, a simple dream of simple uncomplicated pleasure, the details of which were fading away long before the night was over.

I woke, and drank water, and stared at the dark ceiling, and felt warm glow replaced by reality, and it feel like I was starting a nightmare, not waking from a dream. Work, and kid’s school, health, tasks to do. Things lost. Desires that live in my heart all the time, yet which are forever beyond my grasp. Wants and needs and fears. Age and aches and frustrations, like a drowning pool, quicksand closing over my head.

I want my dream back, I thought. I need my dream back.

How I envy people who can lucid dream; who can live out in dreams what they want in waking life. Though I fear if I could do it, I might never wake.

I wound up getting out of bed at three thirty, wobbling into my cold living-room, wrapping myself in a blanket, and finishing a book, Bujold’s Hallowed Hunt. (I’ll post a review shortly, that’s another topic). I was still awake when my kids got up for school, though I managed to slip back into bed for an hour of sleep; dreamless this time, no nightmares, no blissful contentment, just black emptiness, which was what I needed.

I want to find that dream again. Whatever it was, lost now in haze. I want it back.

Archie McPhee needs a Wishlist

elvis4 Comments

Want. You know I’m all about want don’t you? Archie McPhee has a whole pirate collection. And I want it all. You know, my birthday is the end of the month. And a guy just can’t have too many pirate accessories… Archive McPhee needs a wishlist, like Amazon has. Thx to Greggg for making me […]

Want.

You know I’m all about want don’t you?

Archie McPhee has a whole pirate collection.

And I want it all.

You know, my birthday is the end of the month. And a guy just can’t have too many pirate accessories…

Archive McPhee needs a wishlist, like Amazon has.

Thx to Greggg for making me want this shit. And incidentally for doing a graphics tuneup on my blog. You rock, brutha-man.

(oh and by the way, I already have the pirate devil duckie. I don’t know why, but devil duckies seem to find me)

Does the name pavlov ring a bell?

elvis6 Comments

I’m looking at my hit logs – as usual. And I see it a hit from Porto, Portugal. And suddenly I’m sitting here absolutely salivating for a glass of port. I would kill a man right now for a vintage tawny. Good lord, I’m so suggestible. Must. Have. Port.

I’m looking at my hit logs – as usual. And I see it a hit from Porto, Portugal.

And suddenly I’m sitting here absolutely salivating for a glass of port. I would kill a man right now for a vintage tawny.

Good lord, I’m so suggestible.

Must.

Have.

Port.

Tag Sandwich

elvis12 Comments

Ok, ok. I give in. I got tagged by DarkNeuro on this, but I was up to the task of resisting it. And then I got tagged by AAG. I can resist them one at a time. I can’t resist a sandwich, though. [homer] Mmmmm. Sandwich [/homer] Ok, so it goes like so: Delve into […]

Ok, ok. I give in.

I got tagged by DarkNeuro on this, but I was up to the task of resisting it. And then I got tagged by AAG.

I can resist them one at a time. I can’t resist a sandwich, though. [homer] Mmmmm. Sandwich [/homer]

Ok, so it goes like so:

  1. Delve into your blog archive.
  2. Search the archives for the 23rd post.
  3. Find the 5th sentence, or closest to.
  4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions. Ponder it for meaning, subtext or hidden agendas.
  5. Tag 5 people to do the same.

Thus:

My 23rd entry. More or less since they’re not numbered exactly that way.

The fifth (more or less) sentence: I actually had an erotic dream about someone from Orkut last night.

Here’s the funny part. I can’t recall who that dream was about. I have some guesses though. Given the date (Mar26 ’04), it’s not some of the people I’d first guess. Maybe the object of my dream remembers.

Alright then. Tag Five (suddenly a Dave Brubeck tune starts playing in my head). I am tempted to only tag people I know won’t play, just to break the chain. But… What the fuck.

So: Panties3, Brutha Ray, Greggg, Trance (who probably won’t play), and Doxy (who absolutely won’t play).

Play or not. All the same to me, Cats n’ Kittens.

Laugh or Cry

elvis17 Comments

I feel a mixture of nausea and excitement when I read this article:      TEL AVIV, Israel (Reuters) – British singer and songwriter Phil Collins said on Sunday he would be open to a reunion of his old band Genesis. It was pretty much just pure nausea until I read this line: “I’m happy to […]

I feel a mixture of nausea and excitement when I read this article:

     TEL AVIV, Israel (Reuters) – British singer and songwriter Phil Collins said on Sunday he would be open to a reunion of his old band Genesis.

It was pretty much just pure nausea until I read this line:

“I’m happy to sit behind the drums and let Peter (Gabriel) be the singer. If (a reunion) happens, I’ll be there.”

I dunno if this is just phil flappin’ his gums or if there’s something to this. But Genesis – real Genesis, Peter Gabriel genesis, Steve Hackett Genesis, Lamb and Nursery Cryme Genesis, Supper’s Ready Genesis – were and are one of my favorite bands of al time.

Yet – that same band, as members melted away, went on to spawn a band I loath; Invisible Touch Genesis, Abacab. We Can’t Dance Genesis.

And then there’s Phil Collins. Once of the best drummers in rock history, truly, truly brilliant at the kit, and possibly the best singing drummer ever, yet author of some of the most trite pop hits of – well, of his era anyway, in a time before boy bands and spice girls and brittany spears. I fucking hate Phil Collins as a solo artist. And yet, I love his drumming, and his singing in the transition Genesis, Trick of the Tail Genesis, Wind and Wuthering Genesis, Seconds Out Genesis.

So I look at the idea of a reunion – one of the greatest bands ever, certainly one of the two or three most important prog-rock bands (you could make a case for King Crimson being the other), and I want to believe. I want to think Steve Hackett would come back, that Peter Gabriel would come back. That Genesis could be Genesis again.

Gabriel’s burnt out, certainly. He really hasn’t done a lot musically since So. It was obvious when he started naming albums he was out of ideas. He’ll never be that psychotic blur of motion he was. Nor will Phil Collins. I don’t even know if Hackett’s working any more, I’ve lost track. But even if they have not a thing to say musically between them, to hear them play The Knife or Watcher of the Skies. God, I get goosebumps thinking about it.

And then I imagine them playing fucking sussudio, a selection of mike and the mechanics favorites. And I just don’t know.

I hate it when great old bands come back and suck. Leave it the fuck alone, I want to say, don’t show us how old you are, how bad you’ve sold out. Don’t fucking do it. Yet, sometimes, they still have it. They still mean it. They can still play the old songs.

I never saw real Genesis. I picked up on them right after Peter split the band. Yet, Genesis, that first time, stands out in my mind as possibly the most brilliant concert I’ve ever seen. It was one of those I saw god moments. I’ve seen Peter, when we was at his creative peak. I’ve seen Steve Hackett. Great concerts all.

Do I want to go back? I don’t know.

In fact, if they do it, I’ll have to. If Peter stands in front of Genesis, with his flute and bass drum, I have to go. If I get a chance to hear Hackett with Genesis again, if I can listen to them play In The Cage and Back in NYC.

But god. I’m afraid. I don’t know if I can take hearing an unfelt, sellout version Lilywhite Lilith or Dancing With The Moonlit Knight.

Better they don’t, I think. Better they don’t.