Weakened by the Weekend / A Word on a Mighty Wind
Posted on April 21, 2003 at 9:55 am | No Comments
Memo to myself : Try Not to Overdo It. (oh, and touch the puppethead.)
I am a broken, weakened, husk-of-a-man. There is not a part of me that does ache, not a joint that doesn’t feel like it might break. I believe it’s a combination of two things: 1.) I think I’m coming down with something. and 2) I went a little overboard with the exercising this weekend. Too much running, too much walking, too many situps. Granted, not a bad thing to overdose on, but I’m paying for it today in an intensely big way. Glad it’s a short workweek for me… took Thursday and Friday off just ‘cuz.
Saw A Mighty Wind yesterday. Good flick, although not on par with Best in Show. Could be my least-favorite Christopher Guest mockumentary, but still, his worst is far better than most. I was actually more amazed than amused, really… completely stunned by how musically talented the ensemble cast is. You can’t fake some of the performances they pulled off…
Sure, there were lots of laughs to be had… Ed Begley Jr. was great, as was Bob Balaban. Fred Willard was even more annoying that usual, which is typically his whole schtick in these films, so I suppose he did his job. My biggest problem with it was that it didn’t know what it wanted to be… the tone shifted constantly, some of the comedy was far too random, and there was sadness sprinkled throughout. Mitch and Mickey were almost too real to get a kick out of. And that last shot? Completely outta nowhere. A little foreshadowing would have helped there. Ah well, still worth seeing in the theater. I think my expectations for Mr. Guest are far too high at this point, which says a lot about my love for his previous films.
Hey, my cousin Kasten has an online journal. I never knew.
Technovelty : A Blog Day Afternoon
Posted on April 19, 2003 at 8:15 pm | No Comments
Sitting on a bench on the Harvard-side bank of the Charles River, typing on a Targus keyboard attached to a Compaq iPaq. It’s late on a brisk early-spring afternoon, and there’s not a cloud for miles … the bright sun paints a brilliant white path across the river, straight onto my face.
It’s 50 degrees but the wind is forgiving today. The joggers fly by, perhaps their final run before Monday’s marathon, thinking ahead to carbo-loads and clapping curbside crowds. Fratboys in blue canvas baseball hats arrive in JFK park for a game of ultimate frisbee, probably pumped up by this afternoon’s Red Sox win at Fenway.
Never underestimate the value of a change in perspective. Get up, get out, get moving. Go somewhere you’ve never been, even if it’s in the same town. Enough of the same rooms, the same cubes, the same hallways… the same streets, the same drive to work, the same place for lunch, the same smoky rock club.
It feels good to be typing from here, although it is a bit awkward with only my knees on which to rest the keyboard. As the wind picks up slightly, and the hour grows later, I’m thinking this setup would look good sitting on top of a dark oak bar, with me on a sturdy stool in front of it. Time to get moving…
Ok, so maybe it’s a little early in the evening for a bar… but it’s the perfect time for a table at the 1369 coffeehouse. Interpol comes from the speakers overhead, as if playing just for me. The front is crowded with conversationalists, the rear with solo students, one person and one laptop per table. Does my little handheld setup make me cooler, or even more of a geek? Both, I think.
I hadn’t planned on ever mobile blogging, really. This iPaq appeared on my desk at work one day, ostensibly a tool for wandering the building and detecting unauthorized wireless access points (and administering an appropriate smackdown, of course). I’ve only ever found a wide-open cable modem that must have been in a condo in back of our building. Secretly surfing the web on that was fun for about 2 minutes.
6 months later my boss lays this compact keyboard on me, and I’m off and running. Wandering Boston, all teched out, taking in the world, throwing down words.
I could get used to this.
One large coffee and one short walk later and I’m sitting in the front window table at River Gods, listening to Bonnie Prince Billy on the stereo, nursing a Sierra, reading Kavalier & Clay. The bartender notices and can’t help but comment on just how amazing the book is. “Totally deserving of the Pulitzer.” Four chapters in and I already agree.
As a matter of fact, it’s time to get back to it, I think. Chapter five and Sierra number two are waiting for me.
