Sunday Hangovers

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I Love That Song

Best early birthday present ever? Dana, aka D.E. Rasso, from the late, lamented Number One Hit Song has a new blog. Raise a glass in celebration if you're a sentient being and go add her to your feed reader (or bookmark, if you're hardcore old school). 

And if you're in NYC, you should also check out her reading this Sunday, July 12, at 8 p.m. at The Slipper Room (167 Orchard at Stanton). She'll be the featured author for the NYC stop of the Dollar Store Super Summer Tour. Be there or be a square.

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Llamas On The Lam

Escaped llamas named Felicity and Prism–I love this story:

Two llamas escaped from a farm near the Louisville Zoo early Friday, causing police and animal services to track them through the surrounding neighborhoods.

One llama, named Felicity, made it pretty far, eventually getting stopped on Harvard Drive near Bardstown Road in the Douglass Loop. A second one, Prism, was located on the west side of Newburg Road, not far from the farm where she lives.

Nefarious beer bottle activity suspected as the cause, even.

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Watching

Push-scifi-movie I usually skim the Washington Post capsule reviews on DVD releases to prioritize new stuff into my Netflix queue. Imagine my surprise to see a science fiction movie I'd never even heard of, Push, being released on DVD this week and having gotten a recommendation.

Perhaps I enjoyed this so much because it's completely my kind of story (involving several of my bulletproof kinks, as it were*). The kind with interesting world-building and lots of cool powers and fighty fights and it's set in Hong Kong. And, in fact, it feels like a Hong Kong action movie in all the good ways. Dakota Fanning is a little revelation in this one. Most science fiction movies are really bad, if you haven't noticed, and this one isn't.

Checking out the Rotten Tomatoes (22 percent fresh, ouch!), the complaints about this seem to be that people didn't get it, felt it was too convoluted to follow, etc. Some said it was silly, but I'd go with fun. And we wonder why smarter science fiction movies don't get made, or don't get much of a sell. Anyway, we liked it a whole bunch. And the concept would make a great young adult series too.

*dystopian, secret one-name sinister organization, awesome and evocatively named powers, fights that have brains behind their choreography

Updated: Charlie Jane likes it too–so there!

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Sunday Hangovers

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Monday Hangovers

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The Glove Is Off

Some of you who've been reading this blog so long you recall its previous homes on blogspot and journalscape might also remember a great number of "Glove Monster" posts during a certain time period. I find it hard to mourn such a problematic personality, but I certainly mourn the kid who gave us some great music, and then grew up too damaged and famous to quite be a whole person. 

 

R.I.P., kid. 

*Yes, I know. I used to be a much better blogger type. If only there'd been tags back then, it'd be a lot easier to find old posts.

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Wednesday Hangovers

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Thursday Hangovers

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Oversaturated With Meaning

Errol Morris responds to some of the letters he received about his characteristically excellent seven-part piece "Bamboozling Ourselves" (scroll to the bottom to start at the beginning), about the Vermeer forgeries of Han van Meegeren during the World War II era. The whole thing is full of provocative ideas and well worth your time, but this caught my eye:

I was standing in the Mauritshuis on a visit to The Hague. And there it is, hanging on the wall, one of the most famous paintings in the world, "The Girl with the Pearl Earring." O.K. It was something of a letdown. (I had a similar response to the Mona Lisa and the Botticelli Venus.) It was actually – at least for me – impossible to look at the painting as a painting. Clearly, it has been singled out for a reason, but I am no longer sure of what that reason might be. It is such an iconic image – reproduced hundreds of thousands, if not millions of times – that it is unclear what I am responding to. Is it its transcendent fame; its ubiquity – to the point of kitschiness; its real or imagined value, $100 million, $200 million? Or its provenance? The feeling that I am in the presence of Vermeer. But one thing I know for sure: it is impossible to respond to it as just another painting.

Who hasn't had this reaction before one famous piece of art or another?

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