Wow. School is incredible. I just have no time to post right now; in fact for the next couple of weeks my postings will be thin on the ground due to my school schedule (like, 9 am to 11 pm). But it is really something else. A long post will be up this weekend.

Please, help me. Just read a poll which indicates that a (slim) majority of Americans feel that George W. Bush has: a better plan for Iraq than Kerry; a better plan for the economy than Kerry; and can protect us from terrorism better than Kerry.

I would seriously ask that if anyone reading this believes these things are true, and can cogently tell me why they think so, please email me. Because I just don't understand it. I really don't. I mean, are you willfully deceiving yourself because you can't believe things are as bad as they really are?

In the face of our economy going down the shitter (did you know a million more Americans live in poverty since George took office?), more kids dying every day in Iraq (where are those weapons of mass destruction, folks?) and no end in sight, and a fundamentalist Muslim population of the world that has far more reason to want to attack us now than ever before, I don't get it. It is seriously freaking me out. Has the whole world gone crazy?

Email me at laughogramsAThotmail.com

Keillor on the stump . . .

. . . on our Etch-a Sketch president.

Apart from the quitting smoking, a pretty crappy day. Got only a couple of things done. Feeling very frustrated.

I quit smoking today. For good. No bullshit.

Family members might enjoy listening to this old Halloween classic, a staple around the Sheehan house:
Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House

Decided this afternoon to remove commenting from this blog. I just simply got sick and tired of little snide comments from cowardly anonymous little Internet pricks. This blog is chiefly for my family and a few friends who like to check up on it as we're so far apart. If you don't fit into either of those categories, kindly fuck off and take your inane, juvenile behavior with you. Grow up.

At last, the final dredges of the devil bug are leaving my system. This is the first day in almost a week that I have woken up at a reasonable time and not reached for the tissues, and had an appetite. Went out to the pharmacy, the bakery and the Burger King and am feeling a good deal more ambitious today than in some time. Speaking of ambitious, G has a job interview today!

Ah, here's good news. Mr. Repetitive downstairs has cranked up the stereo again. The hit parade today goes something like this: boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. boom boom buh boom boom. Over and over and over and over again, and each selection seems to last 15 minutes. Really bloody distracting. Time to lay a little Afrocelts on them.

The last couple of days I have been catching up on my AFI viewing obligations. Recently watched The Piano, and boggled at the warm reception given it by so many. In case you don't know, the film stars Holly Hunter and Harvey Keitel's penis, of which far too much has been seen and written about for my taste.

Hunter plays a mute named Ada, married off by her father to a New Zealand homesteader despite the fact that, with a child of her own and having already been married, this would be extremely unlikely to occur (so why does it happen? so the movie can take place; there's no other significant rationale offered). So she and her all-too-precious, tooth-achingly precocious daughter are off to the land of the Maori.

That's just the conceit that sets the groundwork for a film riddled with them. The central conceit of the film is that Ada, being mute, expresses herself through her piano. This magical instrument can somehow be transported for months, unplayed, in a crate below decks in a damp sailing vessel, from Scotland to New Zealand, and remain more or less perfectly in tune. What's more, it can be left on the beach, partially uncrated, for several days, with the sea lapping about its feet, and remain in tune. But let's forget about that because it provides the opportunity to shoot lovely, lyrical sequences of Ada playing the piano as the tide roils at her feet.

When the instrument is acquired by Keitel's character, he has it transported from the beach, through the jungle, and somehow this knocks it out of tune when months of exposure to salt air and moisture had not done the job. So, deep in the New Zealand jungle, far removed from any outpost of civilization . . . he conjures up a professional piano tuner. Now I'm no Van Cliburn . . . but this whole thing seems a little far-fetched.

And so, Ada is able to "speak" again. Well, if the anachronistic, melodically aimless and harmonically frilly twaddle she produces on the piano are any indication, Ada's thoughts are mostly of afternoons spent in day spas relaxing with cucumber slices upon the eyes to the strains of Windham Hill-style new age noodlings.

So I suppose if that doesn't work for you, the film won't either, and indeed that was the case for me. I found the characters one-dimensional in the extreme, but presented and dealt with as if they were enormously complex. I found the whole affair almost laughably forced and pretentious, and its pretensions muted and muddled whatever feminist subtext the director clearly intended. The photography was excellent, but the editing was often choppy and unfocused, cut for effect rather than coherence in presentation. Couldn't end soon enough.

Phew. Next up at Michael's Festival of Curiously Overpraised Cinema was Max Ophuls' 1955 Lola Montes. This was an ornate Cinemascope epic about the life and times of, apparently, one of Europe's most famous sluts, and for me, epically uninvolving. The film, I suppose, hinges on once's acceptance of Carole Martin's role performance as the title character, and I found her distinctly lacking. Structurally, the film is interesting, utilizing an anti-chronological perspective to tell her story; visually, it is opulent, and the design and execution of the circus scenes are excellent; but at a certain point I felt that it was much ado about nothing. The Cinemascope format did not suit Ophuls, whose other works in standard format involved a great deal of intricate camera movement; here the visuals lumber, although there are eye-opening sequences from time to time. That critics from Truffaut to Andrew Sarris have declared this among "the greatest films of all time" boggles the mind.

Finally, a genuine artistic classic, Resnais' Hiroshima Mon Amour. This is less a film than a poem, in my view. The view of Resnais' contemporaries is that it is the closest to a literary work as the cinema has ever come, but I would submit that it is far more like a poem by, say, Anne Sexton than a novel. The tragedy and devastation of Hiroshima is reflected by, and reflects, a personal tragedy and the emotional devastation of the protagonist. Intimate and yet strangely removed, and in no way trivializing either tragedy, it is a stirring piece and one that I will have to view again to see it in full measure.

Today, a little relaxation, then a couple of more films, more reading, and hopefully an evening get-together with Shome and Peter.

[Listening to: Colossus (Live at KCRW) - Afrocelts - Live at KCRW (06:26)]

Out way later than I thought I would be last night at the AFI get-together. Met some cool people & definitely some people it will be fun to hang with. I am looking forward to it all starting up so we can all be asking less questions (will it be like this? will it be like that?).

Left the bar around 12:30, walked Boris & went out and grabbed a burger, then came home and crashed heavy by around 1:30-2:00. Memo to self: 8 Heinekens+cold medicine=not the greatest combo.

Slept very late this morning and the dance party was going on downstairs. Countered with 2 tracks from a King Crimson DVD, that seemed to calm the show down. Still gurgly and sniffy from the accursed cold but it feels like it is on the ropes. Here's hoping.

Bleh. Still fighting off this nasty little cold. It's not bad enough to consign me to bed but is just bad enough to be a persistent annoyance. Ingesting some cold medicine has dried me up enough to attend a get-together of AFI students this evening so I can meet and greet some of my new colleagues. Just wish I felt better. I missed the last two such get-togethers and this will be the last one before school, so I can't miss it, sniffles or no. Won't be there late -- good night's rest this evening is a must.

Watched Nashville this evening, whittling down my required pre-AFI viewing list. Liked it, but as is the case with many of these mid-70's flicks I don't quite understand its "greatness." But then, I've never been a big Altman fan.

Yesterday, still suffering from a devil bug which began migrating from my chest to my head. So aggravating! There is nothing more irritating to me (apart from Quentin Tarantino) than having a annoying, raspy little cold that just hangs in there. This one got its hook on me Thursday morning after Disneyland and has been getting more annoying ever since. It's especially irritating given the beautiful weather. But for all that, we had fun yesterday. Met our good friends Shome and Peter at the Farmer's Market for breakfast. Shome had just flown in for a week-long visit with friends and family and in the picture below he strikes a characteristically handsome pose while Peter telephones Butz to demand compensation for an old green couch.

After breakfast I did some shopping for the last part of Genevieve's birthday present -- our picnic supper at the Hollywood Bowl. Made a quiche, salad, salmon spread and some shrimp, brought some bread, some Brillat-Savarin cheese and our meal was complete. The program at the Bowl was a collection of Disney favorites: a great overture of Disney classics, followed by "Bumble Boogie," a big band take on "Flight of the Bumblebee" adapted into an animated short (played on the screens at the bowl in perfect synch with the orchestra) in Disney's anthology feature Melody Time, followed by a suite of Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty ballet, which was used as the music for the 1959 Cinemascope feature.

Other highlights included the orchestra accompanying Mickey Mouse in the classic Sorceror's Apprentice, appearances by Mary Costa, the voice of Sleeping Beauty, narrating a suite from Bambi; Alan Menken, who wrote most of the later-day Disney musicals; and the women who provided the voices for Belle, Pocahontas and Ariel. Most notable was Dick Van Dyke's appearance in the second half of the program singing a number of Mary Poppins numbers. For a guy his age (79!) he can still dance very well -- high-stepping, soft-shoeing, the whole bit, to great applause from the audience. The evening concluded with a suite from The Lion King accompanied by a great fireworks display shot off from the top of the Bowl's bandshell.

Genevieve and I enjoyed ourselves immensely! I got what I wanted when the encore featured all the guests for the evening leading the orchestra in "When You Wish Upon A Star," to me the archetypal Disney song.

Yesterday, I awoke with a feeling that I was catching a cold. I also, as noted, was really tired out from our Disneyland trip. Mostly, yesterday was spent trying not to feel increasingly crappy, and far more time spent than usual on the blog due to software issues.

In the evening we went to Campanile restuarant for a continuing celebration of Genevieve's birthday. Friends Peter and Lisa joined us there for their weekly "grileld cheese night" during which this swanky venue serves tricked-out grilled cheese sandwiches. While they were very tasty indeed, G & I agreed that the price tage was exorbitant for the portions received. Afterwards, G & Lisa went out for a few beers. I attempted to go to a mixer at which several fewllo students-to-be were to be in attendance. But I felt really crappy, on top of which I couldn't find any of the few people I already know from school and I felt to gross to be popping up to people asking if they were my fellow students. So, after hanging around for about 15 minutes I split and came home and watched a documentary on TV.

This afternoon I have to go out and do laundry since the buildign management is taking the longest possible time to replace the washers in the building. This seemingly simple project is going to stretch out until Monday, so I am off to wash our clothes, pick up something for dinner, and use the spin cycle to catch up on my reading assignments for school. Tonight it's a double feature for school, too. Tomorrow our friend Shome is in town and G & I are going to the Disney concert at night, complete with picnic dinner and post-concert fireworks.

Genevieve's Birthday at Disneyland!

Yesterday was Genevieve's birthday! Truly a day for celebration. For her birthday present Genevieve got a picnic set, a book of recipes for picnics at the Hollywood Bowl, and a pair of tickets to the upcoming Disney concert at the Bowl, which will feature the LA Philharmonic accompanying projected Disney cartoons and a big fireworks spectacular this Saturday night.

Yesterday, though, was all about having fun, so we started our day with some pastry, tea and coffee at La Brea Bakery and then it was off to Disneyland. We got there around lunchtime and made a quick stop in the World of Disney store in Downtown Disney to pick up a new t-shirt, as I splooged coffee all over the one I wore at breakfast.

When Genevieve wasn't looking I sneakily got her a Cinderella tiara and insited she wear it the whole day. Despite her initial resistance she went along and it grew on her as the day went on. I think she looked so cute!

We stopped at town hall to get Genevieve's birthday sticker. When it's your birthday at Disneyland you get the royal treatment. Everyone in the park wishes you a happy birthday and sometimes you get treats, plus you get to have Goofy call you on the phone and wish you a happy birthday too!

Cinderella herself awaited us as we entered the park. Here she and Genevieve compare notes on living with the perfect male.

Spent a couple of hours in Disneyland. A lot of rehab is going on in the park in anticipation of Disneyland's 50th anniversary next year. Even Sleeping Beauty's Castle is wrapped up in tarpaulins and undergoing a thorough makeover. We used Fastpass to get on Indiana Jones, the greatest thrill ride ever in my opinion, and hit a few other rides we love. One of Genevieve's favorite rides is the spinning teacups. She always insists I ride it with her and I don't do well on spinny rides. I don't know why she insists on spinning it around as hard as she can when chances are, if I do blow, it's gonna be all over her.

Some of the other rides were temporarily down or being rehabbed, but we got on Pirates of the Caribbean just as it was reopening. What a great, great experience this ride has always been.
Of course no visit to Disneyland is complete without a visit with one of its big stars. Here Genevieve poses with Minnie Mouse as Minnie gets fresh and shows a little leg.

We decided to save some of the other rides until late-night, when a lot of folks have left the park -- lines were long and the sun was hot; it's still peak tourist season at Disneyland. And anyway, our Splash Mountain Fastpasses were not valid until like 10 and we had a dinner reservation, so we made our way over to California Adventure, across the plaza from Disneyland, a park we both have grown to really enjoy, with its nice open spaces, good dining choices, and ready availability of fine California wines. Genevieve got very brave and went on the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, a great ride that combines ghosts, special effects, and an elevator which rises and plummets to and from a 13-story height in the dark. It also changes every time you ride it so it is not something where you can anticipate the shocks.
Afterwards we needed to relax so we went to Paradise Pier, the boardwalk-style section of California Adventure and rode King Triton's Carousel . . .

Then I tried to be all macho and win Genevieve something at the games of skill. One game involved trying to sink a softball in a milk jug. I went through about $15 worth of softballs before giving up. Then a little Asian girl came up, bought one ball, and sank it instantly. I walked away in shame.
We had a corn dog along the way, and later went to dinner at the Vineyard Trattoria, a casual dining place; had a very good server, and the staff came out and sang Happy Birthday to Genevieve.
Genevieve's favorite pararde is the Disney Electrical Parade, with its brightly lit costumes and kooky music and sound effects. We watched it after dinner in California Adventure and enjoyed it thoroughly.

Genevieve waves to Cinderella as the parade passes by:

Went back to Disneyland and went to Splash Mountain and then to our beloved Haunted Mansion. Always a treat, and we are looking forward to the holiday overlay they do each year, based on "The Nightmare Before Christmas." On the way out we caught some of Fantasmic, a really spectacular stage/fireworks/pyrotechnics show staged on Rivers of America. The last time we saw it the Mark Twain steamboat was being rehabbed so we missed the spectacular conclusion with the Mark Twain piloted by a black & white "Steamboat Willie" style Mickey Mouse.
Went over and rode the Matterhorn Bobsleds, which is so much fun, especially at night because as you zip in and out of the mountain you get great views of the park, plus the monsters inside the mountain are scarier.
Pretty tired after all that. It was just about midnight. We left the park and did a little shopping on the way out, not much; Genevieve got some pajamas that are really cute for her birthday present for herself. Hit the car, got some Gatorade at a mini-mart on the way out, and 30 minutes later we were back home, miraculous! Needless to say after walking for 12 solid hours we are both pretty stiff today. Had to soak my feet in the hot tub before I could walk properly!

Lacking energy to make much of an update today and not much to report. Last night attempts to see a movie, enjoy a movie we rented, have a nice dinner, and for me to meet some school folks at a local bar all came to naught. I did end up drinking some beers and staying up too late, though, which meant today I slept in. Did a few random things as the day rapidly got away from me. Spent most of the late afternoon working on something I needed to finish for my sister & tracked down some tickets for Genevieve's birthday present (I got her a picnic basket/cooler, some recipes she could pick to fill it with, and tickets to a Disney concert at the Hollywood Bowl.)

Now I have to weatch a film for school. I am getting to a point where I am under the gun a little. So updates will be kinda short after tomorrow, G's birthday, which we'll be spending at Disneyland!

[Listening to: Madman Across the Water 6-22-04 - The Dead - Summer Tour 2004 (08:14)]

Took Boris to the Laurel Canyon Dog Park today. LA has a number of these large, fenced-in areas in the city's massive parks for doggies to run around and meet each other and play. Boris was inappropriately touched by another dog, and he did the same to the other dog, but fortunately for you I will draw a discreet curtain over that affair. Suffice it to say Boris had a fun run-around and was so tired when it was time to go he could barely make it up the hill to the car.




Rat in a drain ditch . . .


. . . dogs in a pile . . .


. . . nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile!

Yesterday was a day for sleeping late, playing a little catch-up, watching some baseball (the Cubs dropping one to the Dodgers) on TV and then in the late afternoon driving over to Pasadena for a walk and a delicious dinner of Himalayan cuisine at the Tibet-Nepal House on Holly Street. Totally wonderful, a peaceful and tranquil setting (as any Tibetan restaurant I've ever been in has been) and delicious dumpling and noodle dishes. It was the resturant's 3d anniversary so drinks, like a yummy mango shake, were on the house.



The entryway to the restaurant had a warm, welcoming feel that was reflected by the warm, welcoming staff. I even found a long-sought-after Tibetan cookbook for sale.



Before dinner we walked around Old Town Pasadena, which was a marvelous collision of mission revival and art deco architecture, lovely shops, a very relaxed vibe. Notable was Pasadena's beautiful city hall:



Opposite the City Hall is this sculpture of Jackie Robinson and Mack Robinson, of whom I'm afraid I don't know much.



Someone's got some 'splainin' to do.



Although I'm not sure I really want to know.

Today was a lovely day, although I began it very grumpy indeed from staying up too late last night and being awakened by a massive garbage removal truck at 7:30 AM. G and I got in our exercise duds and drove over to Santa Monica. It was a beautiful, eautiful day and the cool breeze off the ocean was heavenly. We had a nice long walk up from Main Street, which is a lovely old historic section with nice little shops and bars and things, to the 3d Street Promenade which is a pedestrian mall sort of affair and very well done. There was nothing like this here when I first visited Santa Monica something like 15-20 years ago. Santa Monica is where we want to live for sure, once the need to be proximate to my school is past -- I have never wanted to live somewhere more than I want to live over there.

Anyway, we took a long, brisk walk up the beach walkway to the Promenade and I unsuccessfully looked for a book in the Borders there, and then we took a leisurely walk back to Main Street, hit a bagel shop and a coffee roasters for Sunday paper reading/Sunday breakfast supplies, then had a delicious breakfast at a lovely old-fashioned place called the Omelette Parlor; G had a waffle and I had a sausage, tomato and mozzarella omelette. We enjoyed all this so much. More than once we said, "THIS is why we live here," and apart from the purely practical considerations, it really is.

Stopped at a Tibetan store I've been wanting to visit, and then I dropped G off at home, hit a local Borders where I found my book, which promises to be an interesting read. Then hit the Best Buy for a new hard drive for the media server, came home, took a much needed and insanely refreshing shower.

G and I walked down Hollywood Boulevard, which I love doing at night -- the lights! the neon! the freaks! -- to dine at Miceli's, a classic old-school 1940's Italian restaurant. The whole bit, wicker Chianti bottles, plastic red-checked tablecloths, a guy singing Sinatra at the piano bar. One of my favorite kinds of restaurants. Had a light ravioli dish, and then we went to see Jonathan Demme's update of The Manchurian Candidate, which I found to be a very enjoyable rejiggering of the themes and plot of the original. It lacks the dramatic, stark, almost expressionist visual style and has nothing like the flashy "garden party" sequence in the original. Although Meryl Streep is excellent in it, I rather preferred Angela Lansbury's marvelous and unexpectedly jarring performance in the same role in the original. But they are two very different films.

Then we walked back home and I am trying to ignore the horrible movie G is watching because there's only boring Olympic action and none of the stuff we're actually interested in on right now.

Backtracking: Friday

Watched Bergman's Wild Strawberries yesterday afternoon, a wonderfully, emotionally complex film. Last night we went off to the lovely Library Alehouse in Santa Monica for dinner, and stopped off at a pub for a pint, swung back home and watched the Olympic opening ceremonies -- thoroughly enjoyed watching them on HDTV, not least due to the fact that the HD feed did not feature the absolutely nauseatingly puerile and nearly-constant commentary by Bob Costas and Katie Couric. Both of these idiots really need to have their mouths filled with concrete and sewn shut with piano wire. Here was this beautiful staged and excuted performance piece, and instead of occasionally adding an illuminating remark here and there, they were constantly barraging the audience with trivia or, worse, really stupid, infantile jokes. For example, when Bjork was singing (well, lip-synching) her song about the sea and her "dress" billowed out to cover the assembled athletes, the two of them just would not shut up for a second. "I'd hate to see the dry cleaning bill on that bad boy!" said Costas. Similarly asinine remarks, which might be OK if he were doing play-by-play for a bowling tournament, poured out of his mouth like a river of liquid turds. In other words, here is an artistic performance piece which Lord knows how many people have slaved over, being executed to near-perfection, and it's treated by these two twinkies as if it were the Macy's parade. G was so hostile about it she charged off to her computer to email a vicious and contemptuous and nonetheless richly-deserved letter of complaint to NBC.

With relief we realized the HDTV feed was delayed and featured two commentators who largely limited their remarks to unobtrusive and illuminating observations on the cultural or artistic or athletic significance of the unfolding event, and coupled with the crystal-clear HDTV picture and 5.1 surround sound it was much more pleasant viewing and also featured about 967 fewer commercials.

G went to bed and I played Xbox for a while. Before going to bed I took a quick look at the media PC, which we have been copying all of our CDs into, and found that despite Microsoft's optimistic apparaisal of Windows Media Player's ability to compress audio, the hard drive was almost completely full. So I ended up staying up until almost 4:30 evaluating options, which ultimately boiled down to needing a new, larger hard drive, and observing Jupiter, I think, which was burning so brightly in the northern sky at that hour that I could not believe it.

Backtracking: Wednesday night, cheeseburgers and garlic fries for dinner, then plowed through three hours of The Decalogue instead of the films I had planned. Since Decalogue is actually 10 films, an hour each, each exploring one of the Ten Commandments, it is a huge block of viewing time on my list, so I decided to tackle a chunk of it. Now, let me state that these films are excellent. Their delicacy of approach, consistency of tone, quality of performances and writing are beyond reproach. That said, for the most part, they are also hugely depressing, as only a set of ten films based on the Ten Commandments set in late '80's Poland in a drab, grey apartment building can be. So watching them all at a shot is not only unrealistic due to the amount of time involved, it also would involve a call to Dr. Kevorkian by the end of it all. Piece-mealing it out was the only way to go.

Yesterday, got up and exercised, breakfasted, and polished off The Decalogue, moving on to Visconti's The Leopard, a sumptuous and very personal period drama set in 1860's Italy. Not enough can be said about its eye-popping production design, graceful and beautiful cinematography, disciplined, nuanced acting by Burt Lancaster in the title role, nor can enough be said about the fact that it is a very, very, very, very long 3 hours of movie-watching. One can't help but be impressed by its majesties and subtleties but one can't help wondering whether the American distributors, who cut 40 minutes from the film for its US release, might have been on to something. Inasmuch as it is a deeply personal film for Visconti, who, as his name suggests, descended from the Italian aristocracy whose decline the film (with a certain moral ambiguity) dramatizes, it might be seen as a trifle self-indulgent. By me, at least.

Made some sauteed scallops, pasta with sundried tomatoes and some aspargus for dinner last night, watched Denis Leary's TV show, which seems to be pushing the boundaries of what's acceptable on TV more for the sake of notoriety than for anything else. The show is called Rescue Me, and its dramatically fertile setting is a New York City firehouse. Sadly, the characters are a little one-dimensional, the conceits (Leary, an alcoholic, keeps hallucinating dead people he's rescued speaking to him; he also has earnest conversations with his dead cousin, also a firefighter) are tiresome, and we've seen them before (Scorsese's Bringing out the Dead, for example). There are flashes of wit, humor and honest emotion from time to time, amidst the truly gratuitous explicit sex scenes; it just all feels a little forced.

Then it was a round of Xbox with good friend Jimbo; he beat me by three strokes to avenge the drubbing I gave him a couple of weeks ago.

Today, a little slow getting going. But, finally got down to the exercise room for a half hour on the bloody bicycle, then brunch, of a sort, and after this blog, a movie or two. The guy who lives downstairs is a big fan of incredibly repetitive urban music -- the kind that consists of 8 bars of drum and bass endlessly repeated for 10 or 20 minutes at a time. Just loud enough to be heard through the floor. Ah, he just changed it. A minute ago it was going BUH BOOOM BOOOOM BUH-BOOM (2,3,4) BUH BOOOM BOOOOM BUH-BOOM (2,3,4) BUH BOOOM BOOOOM BUH-BOOM (2,3,4) ad nauseam.

Now something a little less complex, a little number I call Doo-BOOM. Goes like this: Doo-BOOM (3,4) Doo-BOOM (3,4) Doo-BOOM (3,4) Doo-BOOM (3,4) Doo-BOOM (3,4) Doo-BOOM (3,4) Doo-BOOM (3,4) Doo-BOOM (3,4) Doo-BOOM (3,4) etc. I am not sure what film to watch but it is gonna be something with a cranking 5.1 soundtrack. 200 watt subwoofer to the rescue.

You can't beat a leather recliner for Xbox Links golf.

Killed a really dull book for school and started on a much more interesting one; piled down half of it, captured another Marigold tape, cooked some patty melts and garlic fries for a marvelously non-diet-friendly dinner, and now it's time for a double feature: Treasure of the Sierra Madre and Citizen Kane. Then -- bed.

Yesterday was a big waste product day. Feeling exhausted and like crap, both G & I barely summoned up the energy to do the one or two things really necessary, like go to the store for toilet paper. Today is, therefore, make-up day. Three films to watch and no time to blog.

Here are my low-res snaps from my phone-cam at last night's Who show. Blurry and low-light but they still look kinda cool. Joey O is in the foreground of the first one.

I'm sure it will delight some readers to know we met a guy actually named Caesar at the concert. Caesar's here . . .

WOW. The Who at the Hollywood Bowl last night. WOW.

Picked up my good friend Joe O'Brien last night at the Burbank Airport. He flew in to go to the concert with us. Though funds are tight we could not pass up the chance to see The Who down the street from our home. Wheeled Joe over to the house and quaffed many, many beers, which were followed by many more at the show a mere 10 minute walk from our front door.

Our seats were in the nosebleeds but the sound was totally great, and the gigantic video screens gave us great views. And holy crap, what a show the boys put on to end their tour. Amazing that after all these years Townshend and Daltrey have far more energy in their mid-to-late 50's than I or Joe have at 40. Absolutely smoking show, particularly a bluesy jam to end "Won't Get Fooled Again" and a hair-raising rup-snorting solo from Townshend on "Sparks." Mind-blowing.

After the show, we met up at the Cat & The Fiddle Pub with Genevieve. We had gotten seperated, and it turns out G managed to weasel her way down to the box seats. We missed cathing Joe's friends because the show got out so late. After a couple of drinks at the bar we dropped G off at home and Joe and I went to Cantor's deli for sandwiches and egg creams. Got back and into bed around 2 or so, and the it was a brutal 5:30 wake-up to get Joe to the airport in time for his 7 am flight. Back home, crashed hard until almost 11. G and I got up and hobbled around -- we walked a LOT yesterday -- made some breakfast, an omelette with the meat from the half deli sandwich I leftover from the deli last night, and a grilled cheese for G. Watching bad movies on TV now and too exhausted and hungover to do much more.

Poached these images from the show from the Who's website. Enjoy.

Yesterday, we picked up Genevieve's good friend Wendy in Santa Monica and had brunch at the Border Grill. The girls went out for shopping and drinks, while I came home to watch the Cubs lose to the Giants. Grrr. Seeking something to do, I saw that The Spy Who Loved Me was playing at the Egyptian Theatre, down the street, so I toddled off and thoroughly enjoyed this best of the Moore Bonds. Caroline Munro, a B-movie actress who appears in TSWLM as a henchwoman, was in attendance. Suffice it to say, the years have not been kind.

This morning, Donald Duck was receiving his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, honoring his 70th "birthday," so we had to go along. Genevieve swung by after dropping Wendy at the airport. Mickey, Minnie, all the stars were there for the unveiling in front of the wonderful Disney El Capitan Theatre. The Disneyland Marching Band led a procession of characters out of the theatre and onto Hollywood Boulevard.

Here the evil one, Michael Eisner, who refuses to step down as Disney's CEO despite shareholder revolt and public discontent, helps Donald unveil his star.

After the ceremony there was a special premiere screening of the latest Disney direct-to-video release, The Three Musketeers, the first animated feature starring Mickey, Donald and Goofy together.

It was a treat as always to go the the El Capitan, that marvelously restored old theater on Hollywood Boulevard. When we entered they had free popcorn, sodas, and birthday cupcakes for all. And everyone got a duck caller when they entered. It was funny when every kid in the theatre, us included, went honking away.

Sad to say, the picture is not very good. Some of the character animation was good, and the Mickey and Minnie gags worked well, but hell, they've been working well for 75 years.

My biggest problem with it, as with Shrek and other animated efforts, is the glib, ironically self-aware style of humor used to get laughs -- as opposed to Pixar's efforts, for example. In Pixar's films, story drives character and the laughs come from within the character, as they once did in Disney films -- rather than the story being a lame framing device for cheap puns and obvious wah-wah-wah humor.

Which is not to say that ironic self-awareness can't be hilarious. The best Warner Brothers efforts, for example, live and die on that style of humor. Recent Disney efforts in this vein create an uneasy melding of Disney's old-school, character-driven storytelling and subtle gags and the somewhat broader, ironic, in-your-face wisecrackery of Looney Tunes and ultimately satisfy on neither score.

Which would be OK if the animation was particularly good, but sadly this release is from ToonDisney Studios, the TV animation folks at Disney -- the last holdout of traditional animation at the once-great House of Mouse. And alas, as with all the direct-to-video spew (Jungle Book 2, etc.) emanating from that wretched place, it looks as if it was made on the cheap. The backgrounds, which once looked so real and tactile in a Disney film you felt you could reach up to the screen and touch them, are rather slapdash, watercolory, and sketched in, supremely lacking in detail . . . take a look at Snow White, for example, and look at what real artists, given real time and a real budget, can accomplish.

The character work is broad and utterly lacking in subtlety. There were, as I say, a few bits that worked, and worked well. And some of the gags and one-liners were amusing. But Disney aims far too low, and that is a real shame.

Before the feature, Donald's first appearance, in the Silly Symphony The Wise Little Hen, was screened. A genuine treat to see this old gem from 1934 and to see how much more subtle wit and appealing character it held.

Before the show, Mickey, Minnie and the Disneyland Marching Band feted Donald for his 70th birthday.

Yes, it's just another day in Hollywood.

Reposted here from Saturday, when I posted to the wrong blog:

This week has been very busy and productive, so apart from some vacuuming, this is a day off!

Slept very late today and enjoyed that thoroughly.

Last night we drove over to Santa Monica to meet Genevieve's friend Wendy at her hotel. Wendy is in town for a wedding and is staying an extra day with us on Sunday. So glad for G to have some bonding time with her good friend.

Also yesterday, talked my good friend and chef extraordinaire Joe O'Brien into flying over from Vegas to see The Who at the Hollywood Bowl on Monday. Cheap tickets were available using our Amex card so we went for it, and I booked a flight for Joe -- he'll zip in on Monday and back out early Tuesday morning.

Today made a quick breakfast and settled in to watch the Cubs play the Giants, with Greg Maddux going for his 300th win. He only lasted just long enough to get the official win, in a game which was hairy but in the end a solid victory for the cubs.

Up early again today, with a stiff neck for some reason. Didn't feel like I slept on it funny.... anyway... a brief e-flurry later it's time fro meditation, and breakfast. No giant walk today. Too stiff and grumpy.

Yesterday, watched 2 chapters of The Decalogue, a wonderful series of films based around the 10 Commandments, and while they are thoroughly absorbing, they are also quite heavy and sometimes horribly depressing. Did some reading and then watched The Rules of the Game. Now this is a film which I quite like and respect, and I understand what the filmmaker has achieved, but even though I have tried very hard, I just don't understand why this film is praised as one of cinema's greatest achievements. Is it a wonderful picture? Yes, in many ways. But even after watching it with scholarly commentary, I still don't quite understand why it is held up as such a profound achievement when, say Cocteau is forgotten.

Phew. A long walk this morning in the Canyon of Despair, otherwise known as Runyon Canyon Park. Made it, almost, to the 1,000 foot mark. About 2 miles worth of walking and a lot of it up very steep hills. Felt good to make it further than I've been able to before. VERY hungry now as I slept a little too late to have breakfast first. So, brunch now.

Getting out of bed today at 7:30, a struglle. Still trying to wake up enough to do my meditation without dropping off to sleep!

Haircut yesterday, then shopping for about 10 days' worth of groceries. Pizza for supper, then the Cubs game -- they won -- and for film of the day, The Third Man, such a cleverly-written and wonderfully photographed film. Stayed up too late making my notes on the film and looking up a few things aboiut it -- didn't get to bed until around 1:30 -- and without my full 7 hours I am foggy in the morning. But I do need to get in a groove of early rising before school starts.

Some coffee, I think.

Up early again today, at 7:30, meditation difficult because of the 8:00 am leaf-blowing extravanganza next door. Those things should be banned before 9:00 am. But it is good to get back in the habit, and it gets easier every time to get to a still space. Woke G up and we had a rare breakfast together, as she doesn't go in much for breakfast. Contemplated the gloomy economic forecast for the near future. Aggravated to realize last night as I got ready for bed that my clip-on sunglasses for my glasses got lost last night, apparently slipped out of my bag during the concert. Goddam it, if the eyewear store had actualy sent the case for them out when they said they did, I would have had them in my pocket and not have lost them. Very irritating.

Off to get a haircut now, and do some grocery shopping on the cheap.

This afternoon on the spur of the moment G and I decided to go to the Hollywood Bowl to see the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Not only is the Bowl about a 10-minute walk around the corner, but the cheap seats are $5.00! Off I went to the market to buy us a picnic supper: brie, cheddar, some roast turkey, grapes, salami, fresh bread, and a bottle of pinot noir. Loaded up the kit bag and off we went. It was a beautiful, cool, clear evening. The performance was as follows:

Artists:
Los Angeles Philharmonic
Miguel Harth-Bedoya, conductor
Arnaldo Cohen, piano
Program:
Copland: Billy the Kid Suite
Tavares: Piano Concerto "In Brazilian Forms," Op. 105, No. 2
Intermission
Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 2

We weren't too crazy about the Rachmaninoff, though the second movement had its moments. The Copland took a little while to get going but was quite good when it did. The big surprise was the Tavares; never heard of him, but it was sprightly, interesting fare. The brass section of the orchestra was not very compelling, and kept kind of drowning in the strings; whether that is a fault of the players, the acoustics, the arrangement or the conductor, or a combination of all of these, I don't know, but the second trombone did blow a huge clam in the National Anthem, which began the night. I am used to being blown out of my socks by the Chicago Symphony brass section, so maybe the comparison is or my expectations were unfair.

Overall an extremely pleasant way to spend an evening, and dirt cheap too! The cheap seats at the Bowl are not that bad; they have video screens and everything. Although it must be said that next time, we will spring for the 75-cent cushion rental.

There are some more equally cheap concerts coming up. We're very lucky to have this place right outside our door! The Who even play there next week -- no cheap seats for that one, alas.

Now, to walk Boris and go to bed.

The Hollywood Bowl by day, as viewed from the cheap seats:


My phone-cam kinda sucks so unfortunately you can't really make it out, but on the distant hill in the middle is the famous Hollywood sign.

The Hollywood Bowl by night:

Up before the alarm this morning at 6:30! Amazing. Breakast, meditation, a half-hour walk, called Mom and Dad, updated the blog. We finally got out living room furniture last Thursday and the dlights of the leather recliners cannot be overstated. All that catching up took longer than anticipated, as always. Quick shower time and then it's study time.

Several people asked for pictures of our new place. Well, ask and ye shall receive. Here's a view of our living room from the dining area/baclony:

Another view of our living room or "library" as we like to call it now that we have these swanky-ass leather chairs.

Looking west off our balcony, you see the hills of Runyon Canyon Park. We are situated at the base, more or less, of the Hollywood Hills, and this park was once a Hollywood estate (Errol Flynn lived there for a while). The park is very cool indeed; trails climb as high as 1200 feet above sea level. G and I have trekked in the park on a couple of occasions and are not fit enough to get very far! But we're working on it.

This is a hazy morning view from one of the lesser elevations in Runyon Canyon Park.

The view looking east into the Hollywood Hills from our balcony. The building on top of the hill is a very swank and ornate Japanese restaurant that looks like some impenetrable fortress from a James Bond flick.

Kitchen with wild-eyed chef.

This picture of Jerry Garcia has watched over my kitchen for more than 10 years. It's just not home without him.

Our dining area:

Another big update today, having missed a few.

Friday, G and I went to saee the Night Shyamalan flick, The Village, at the terriffic Arclight Cinemas. Genevieve loved it and I was totally bummed out at how bad I thought it was. Really, the biggest cinematic disappointment in years. And I love Shyamalan's pictures to date. I don't want to give anything away about the flick. Suffice it to say that it is not what it is marketed as (i.e. scary or suspenseful), it is morally ambiguous at best, and the characters are thinly drawn and in some cases classic "bad screenplay" characters (when you don't know how to add substance tyo a character, give himsome little quirk, like worrying if his shirt gets wrinkled all the time). Tremendously disappointing.

Saturday, we went down to Redondo Beach, south of LA, with lifelong locals Isaac and Julie, who have very kindly been turning us on to all maner of local delights. The Pier is a giant, boardwalk-style place with many little shops and bars, some of them sporting great draft beer selections.

The Redondo Beach Pier is also home to the aptly-named Quality Seafood company.

A virtual wonderland of live shellfish is yours for the taking.