A Movie Line to Rule All Others

He looks at me like he is the spoon -- and I am the dish of ice cream.

Metafiction & gChat

One of my typical (no really) gChat conversations ~

Friend:  dude g'day!!

Me:  alllo!!! I was so about to send you an email; metafiction ring a bell?

Friend:  vaguely

Me:  I question its definition...broadest set of criteria ever, with the most convoluted definition http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metafiction. How can strains of Chaucer be present in Vonnegut? Or Stephen King's Secret Window?

Friend:  yeahhhh...so!  fun story!

Me:  More than that, how can such a label exist, refuse to assert itself as a criticism style, and yet NOT allow itself to be read through the lens of another style?
Oh. You aren't interested.
hahaha.
where is my dorky friend when I need her? hahaha
story! go!

Really. Why do people put up with me?
In the end, the non-chatting Third Party that had originally asked me about the phenom known as "metafiction" really just wanted me to comment, and then use my piqued interest to share this picture. So, I'm guessing she didn't really care about metafiction either???

Hot Professor Michael, of the Neon Nation 80s Band

Photo courtesy of Neon Nation: The Ultimate Live 80s Experience
Oh, and Third Part Friend probably did also care about metafiction...but the story was better if she didn't. ;)

Brain Explosion

I really don't have much to say. Two things really:

For some inexplicable reason I find myself wanting to have dinner and chat with Piers Morgan. Because, well, why not? There has to be something interesting to uncover in that head of his.

And, while I have always hated the show "America's Got Talent" the performance by Team Illuminate just BLEW my mind. (Not a link to tonight's performance, but you will definitely see my point)

I might have clapped. Out loud.

To Ache or Not to Ache: A Tale of Mountains & Muscle Pain



The Knob. Elevation 3100+

 I. Love. Hiking.

Virginia is too beautiful not to enjoy every season outdoors. Spring is full of honseysuckle and birdsong. Summer is lesson in adventure and fragrant foods on the grill. Winter carries a pristine costume of snow and stillness. And Fall. Well, Fall is fiery, alive, and in a state of rebellion against all of the other seasons. It just wants to be special and incomparable. It usually succeeds. Ok, enough of the over-the-top embellishments.

While Virginia is not yet in a fall state of mind, the weather has recently been quite confused. I do not know if I should be blaming freak weather patterns, or accept the mild temperatures as a grand gift! But I plan to take advantage of any accidental "cool and breezy" summer days that happen by. And so, we hiked McAffee's Knob.

8.4 miles of incline and brush. Countless dogs greeting us as parties made their way past. Chirping birds. The constant fear of snakes. Ah! Exhilarating!

But aside from that feeling of victory you have when you climb that last rise, or push past that ache in your calves, there are the people. Hikers are friendly. They are the closest "kin" to the backpackers making their way across Europe that I have encountered stateside. A few factors are probably to blame:

1. Endorphins a happy hiker makes. Who is going to be truly grumpy (short of having fallen and broken something) on a simple day hike? Energies are high, and everyone is predisposed to be pleasant.
2. We are in God country. How can you climb a rise and not feel a sense of awe at the creative power displayed in the wilds? Every leaf you pass is unique, and every rock you step over has been trampled by generations of other adventurers. We are all connected in that miracle of existence and shared panorama.
3. I am usually directing a 160 WATT smile at everyone I pass. More than likely, I am scaring every stranger into compliance with my facial insistence so that they return my addresses. I smile at you, and you smile back. If you don't...well, we are  in the wilderness. It might take the authorities a while to find you. I'm just sayin'.... [note: this is meant with all attempts at histrionics and jest!]

So, there you have it. My theory on hiking friendliness. I can not even begin to comment on hiking etiquette: like, should we feel badly that we don't wear "toe shoes"? Or did that elderly woman get irritated that we passed her on the first summit (when she quite purposely raced us for the front slot)? OR, even though the party descending should be the ones to step aside and let others pass, HOW do you navigate the trickery that is the slit party of XX kids?!

Now, for my list of approved hiking provisions and activities (for the descent):

• Slim Fast bars (surprisingly perfect if you can't get your hands on some Chip or LARAbars)
• A spare pair of sunglasses...for those mishaps.
• A horribly harmonized rendition of "Last Kiss" (imitating Pearl Jam, of course)
• Some in-the-moment dance creations for various occurrences; i.e., my legs hurt, so do the wobbily wobbily knees move

But most importantly, you need a great hiking partner.* Mine was fantastic. Was our ascent at an adequate pace? Well, yes. Did she pack the perfect amount of water? Absolutely. But I am referencing neither of those top assets. No, my partner was entertaining.



The Summit, aka Lion King Rock

 Example #1: Brief tripping move on the way down so startled her that she gasped, flailed her arms, and screeched for someone to, "Hold Me!!!!" Shaken by poor footing, she nearly tore my right arm from its moorings (...because, well, don't you compare your arm to a ship?). And all in full view of passer-bys.  ::sigh:: A-mazing.

Example #2: EPIC. Not only does she question the usefulness of small dogs, but she continually makes fun of me for once admiring a mix-breed Yorki-Poo. But on this trip, a small white fluff ball excited her--maybe it was the endorphin rush, or maybe it was the post-high of seeing the summit--and so she inexplicably and joyfully yelled, "Yorki Poo!!!" and started mock-jogging down the ridge. Until......

"TOO MUCH MOMENTUM!"
Arms rush to protect her face in a futile last-minute move.
A body crashes into large tree, failing to bounce off in jog-halting contact.
The body then ricochets off the tree and butt-plants on a large, limestone rock face.

Yes, yes I do love hiking.

*I am taking reservations for the described hiking partner. She is an excellent companion and will add enjoyment to any family outing. She is both well versed in mountain slang (for those Yanks that think we talk funny down here), and frequently shouts little messages of encouragement, "You are awesome. And we are climbing a mountain. Yeah! And we are awwwwesome!" As she (and I) are both nursing sore quads and rock scrapes, she will not be available until early Fall--please arrange your requests for her involvement in your next outing accordingly.

Don't Bet on Philip Seymour Hoffman

"I own every soundtrack EVER made! Mwua-haha!"

I believe that any movie, regardless of its plot lines or the quality of acting, can be tolerated or celebrated if there is an intriguing soundtrack. Among the  universally acknowledged  "great" or "generation defining" films, I doubt many people will disagree.

Look at Forrest Gump--I would categorize this as one of the "greats". It is brilliant period film, with good acting, eccentric and impossible characters, and yet what most people love are not those very "critically hailed" qualities*, but the grand scenes accompanied by music; Forrest runs across the nation to "Running on Empty" by Jackson Browne, Jenny perches dangerously on the edge of her hotel balcony to Skynrd's southern anthem "Freebird", CCR's "Fortunate Son" growls and strains as the helicopter lands Forrest and Bubba in the Vietnamese landscape.  So many memories for the viewing audience! I anticipate the music and the moments every time I watch it, even getting mildly upset if I ralize I have missed one of my favorite transitional music moments.

*[Ok, and we also love the one liners delivered earnestly by Forrest, with that adorable charm that only Tom Hanks can channel. And Lieutenant Dan! But none of this is relevant to my argument!]

In the second category, or the "generation defining" group, I am going to pay homage to a John Hughes project: Pretty in Pink. Predictable? Well, maybe. Thought I would choose The Breakfast Club? I thought about it. But I can easily and concisely demonstrate my point with PIP. Hughes, more so in his post-mortem acclaim than ever before, has been hailed as the visionary who understood the psyche of high school youth living in 80s America. I won't speak to that--I just know that everyone of my friends who were old enough to see the film back in the day still stop on TBS when it is running! When I watch Two and a Half Men, Alan is not Alan; he is Ducky and he is seeking "Tenderness" in a small little record store, to the subject of his unrequited love. When I think 80s prom, I see Molly Ringwald and James Spader is completely different scenarios, one terrified the other brooding, as OMD's "If You Leave" strikes its infectious melody. So, there you have it--two examples of my grand point!

::ends with a grand flourish of gestures, fairly similar to that of a circus ringmaster::

Examples of tolerance for the simple sake of music? Um, Anchorman? I hate that movie, but "Afternoon Delight" was a genius selection! Just as genius as the instrumental compliment to that scene in The Patriot, where Mel returns to his unit flying the American flag repaired by his recently fallen son? I struggle to admit it, but I cry everytime. Sap. Ugh.

Disagree with everything so far? Well, then stop reading, because frankly I don't feel like addressing any comments about the soundness of my logic. This is subjective and you need not feel an obligation to agree; but that obligatory comment is now made, and I am still right. So, let's move on.

One of my all time favorite films is Almost Famous. I can't even tell you why. Do I love faux bio-pics, and watching rock n' roll musicians engage in all their glorious shenanigans? Of course! Who doesn't?! And is Billy Crudup beautiful in the movie, despite his attempts to ugly it up with that beaver growing on his upper lip? Um, yes. Um, correction: absolutely yes. Is the writing fast, tense, witty, and the direction/cinematography nearly perfect? Yes. But all that together would only put the film in my top 20. And Jane Campion's The Piano, in which music replaces language as the primary mode of communication as well as currency (uh...a bit scandalous, fair warning), would be ranked higher. The thing that sends Almost Famous over the bar and into "fantastic" is the relationship developed between the storyline and the MUSIC. Remember the scene in which the band mates of Stillwater are fighting (yet again), and the tension on the tour bus becomes so palpable that silence seems a secondary character? Then, in spontaneity and genuine appreciation, the  groups begins to slowly harmonize the lyrics of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer"? The first time I saw that scene, I just smiled. Widely, unapologetically, and with honest sympathy--we have all been there. In the right setting, a song can change our perspective on a situation and set its tone. I saw the characters, who were so in love with the lifestyle of the musician, and fully participating in a culture of changing attitudes and inclusion within America (also, debauchery, but that is another mini-essay), as realistic. That was the only moment in the whole film, where I completely forgot about the storyline and yet somehow still felt connected with the personalities and emotions of the characters.

Obviously, this is an easy movie to target: it is a film about musicians, caught in the process of making music, and relying on historical music tracks to supplement the story. Phillip Seymour Hoffman plays an enigmatic Lester Bangs, and his love letter to rock n'roll is so earnestly delivered, you have to wonder if the actor wishes he were Lester Bangs. So, yes I am cheating. But my point stands!

All of this is culminating in a very silly, simple observation. [What do you want from me? The disclaimer to the right TELLS you I am verbose!] I rented Pirate Radio, another film with Phillip Seymour Hoffman--the surly, hairy version...not to be confused with the Capote verison. In my head, I recognized a vibe that I thought would be similar to AF: it focused on the musical decade just before AF, and contained some very odd actors (Bill Nyhe, anyone?). I wanted to watch, enjoy some tunes, hope for something cathartic in the storyline, and just have a night in. Well...

The soundtrack is fantastic. A perfect compliment to the tale, which follows a ship-bound radio crew of the coast of the UK, playing rock n' roll and pushing the on-air censor limits during the mid 1960s. In fact, it would be easier to count the actors' lines than it would be to count the number of songs featured. Again, easy target. A film about the genesis of rock radio made for music lovers?! This is too easy! BUT, here is the major deviation point! Are you paying attention again?! Here comes the point (you knew if you kept reading that it would show up eventually):

This movie wasn't really good.  It didn't really hold my attention. It had some very funny moments, a la groupies and inexperienced ship mates, and when I looked up to find a Titanic-esque SINKING scene, I had to do a double take and get reinvested! Unfortunately, Hoffman, you are no DiCaprio. Or Billy Zane for that matter. But you are a hero in this one! And I cheered when [SPOILER] you made it to the surface in a rush! of waves and the roaring of various percussion instruments! Ha!

No, what it had was good listening. I could blog, work on some plans for future internships, think about grant deadlines, think about fundraising strategies...and so on, and so forth. I was multi-tasking. And yet I never turned the film off. It was tolerable because it had such a great soundtrack. A story was being communicated without even watching the film.



Australians Make Bluegrass...well, that is new?

I consider myself mildly cultured; I don't assume that stereotypes are always accurate (i.e. that people who like country ARE country), but I respect the fact that they exist for a reason. If it didn't have a high prevalence rate, then it probably wouldn't be a part of the collective set of "probable truths." An example: techies are smart. When was the last time you met someone who has attended a LAN party in his youth, and that person wasn't a competent sort of fellow? Point made.

Back to the topic at hand: I have traveled; I have a nice array of books (stop snickering friends: understatement is necessary here!), and I think they provide some insight into the world we live in, and the diverse people and attitudes that make it up. All of this together makes me feel pretty good about myself! ::little grin of contentment:: But then, a new combination of characteristics pops up and surprises you! And it forces you to recognize how very little you can predict the ebb and flow of popular culture.

Example(s):
Appreciation of Lady Gaga's Meat Dress
Cowboy Madonna
The phenomenon that is Dancing with the Stars
The effects of Space Jam on an entire generation of my peers (I still have that soundtrack on tape...)
Japanese culture's obsession with Paris Hilton

Ok, these are admittedly very extreme examples. But they explain the "idea" of what I am getting at. Smoosh two things that you think are in direct opposition with one another together...and you get something that has some incredible lasting power. As it turns out, I was just WAY out of the loop and there is a whole culture dedicated to "newgrass". Both in the States and among the Aussies ::sheepish blush of ignorance::

I was the very appreciative recipient of some comp tickets to see a recent performance by the Australian native band, The Greencards. They were free, it was at an adorable outdoor venue (interpret as tiny), and I thought, "Sure. I never go to concerts anymore. It could be fun! And because I am always working, let's network!" How silly of me. I was not prepared  for the musicianship that confronted me; the trio of Aussies and an American (the fiddler was MIA!) controlled their instruments with an incomparable grace and competency. Not only were the strains haunting, lively, and impossibly complex by turns, but the band members were so well synced that the impromptu "battles" between guitar and mandolin seemed a natural extension of the melodies. It wasn't until the sweat was dripping from foreheads and the mandolin player cursed at a missed chord that anyone in the audience knew that we were privy to a friendly display of competition.



Mandolin, Kym Warner; Bass, Carol Young; Guitar, Carl Miner; Fiddle, Tylar Andal (missing)

The venue was intimate, and so the performance was intimate. But the lead singer was a dear, and she quite literally fostered a conversation with the audience. I think the die hard supporters were actually directing the song choice at one point (but as a new listener to the progressive blue grass and observer of the band's kinetic energy, I just can't be sure). The Greencards are now independent artists; once supported by a label that helped foster their popularity, the band apparently chose to seek fan support and creative license in order to make the music they so loved. And while I cannot support the idea of a "lonely island" all of the time--after all, the desire to stand alone or defend one's territory in my professional field is the quickest way to lose a war by "attrition"--in this case, I am thrilled with their decision. Sisterita and I have listened to the album 3 times in quick succession. And when payday comes...can we say purchase plan?

Highlights of the Brick by Brick album:
Tale of Kangario, Loving You is the Only Way to Fly, Heart Fixer

Help support this talented ensemble, and connect with them on Facebook or by their website.

The Inaugural "A's & B's of Brunch"

Let's get the requisite mention of today's grand episode out of the way--after all, I was probably the only blogger on the east coast time who skipped mentioning the 5.8 earthquake. Today, Hurricane Irene attacked the Eastern seaboard, stretching her winds and sleeting rain from Carolinas to Massachusetts. Were the skies ominous and black over our mountains? Yes. Did the mum topple from its new hanging post (we JUST bought the thing, bah!) and bust its pot? Yes. Did some rain drops "SPLAT!" their way across our car windshields. Why, yes, yes they did.

But that did not stop life from continuing on. I PLANNED the inaugural A's & B's of Brunch! and we were going to honor it!!! Sisterita even agreed to contribute with a flourish of enthusiasm, by cooking some incredible fare! So, a stupid weather system was not going to threaten my plans. That's right Irene: you just mosey on along. Flooding? You take that right on back to the Atlantic! (But seriously, prayers for those experiencing flooding!)

 

Dollar Store Flutes!!!

 Sisterita and I did not intentionally try to honor our Floridian upbringing--but I think the mimosas and self-made home fries we supplied may have inched our gathering into the realm of "a hurricane party." We didn't have Cheetos--an essential to most hurricane parties, but by that logic Mom should have been electrocuted again. And, well, I don't think I am open to the latter event...I mean can a woman have lightening come after her FOUR times in one life?!? Frankly, best pre-planned hurricane shindig I have ever been responsible for!

[To be fair, my first attempt was my first weekend as a freshmen in the USF dorms, in the wake of Charlie and in anticipation of Ivan...and well, a third system. The name escapes me. The point is that I was armed with nothing more than goldfish, LOTS of toilet paper thanks to Mom's Sams's card, and some diet coke. Oh, and I was trapped with strangers. Yeah, it was fantastic. ]

I had two reasons for throwing the brunch: first, because I am obsessed with cutesy, girly domestics. But we all knew that. The second was to sort of "close out" a chapter in the lives of some of my dear friends. I have never mentioned it here before, but last year I held a position as an AmeriCorps*VISTA supervisor. Well, three of the ladies recruited for that program have now finished their first full year of volunteer service. With that achievement (people, you have no idea the sacrifices the AmeriCorps volunteers, through whatever branch they serve, make in order to improve the nation. Official shout out HERE!!!), we don't rightly know what is next for everyone. So, it seemed only fitting that the inaugural brunch at Chez Sandidge double as a reunion of faces and friends. And there was the added benefit of being able to pilot our official "brunch fare" to a friendly group not prone to judgement!

    



The FAMOUS, FABULOUS homefries. Sisterita is a genius. All I had to do, Gentle Reader, was monitor over and stove temperatures! Culinary brilliance....

I think Sisterita and I had a pretty successful affair! We had some easy listening/old rock'n'roll playing on the speaker system, a veritable FEAST of food, lovely company and some sparkling mimosas. Laughter, stories, catching up. It was a pleasure! Books were even exchanged! I can't tell you if they were the highlights, but a clarinet that haven't played in about 8 years was given new life, as was our keyboard...and the afternoon culminated in the inexplicable doning of various sized hats--Kentucky-derby-worthy floppiness to a Blossom-esque feather-adorned dome top--by three complete silly ladies. We just...well...we...oh, we just liked them!

Things we learned for the future:

• Must find a more efficient buffet style; this is tricky, young 20-something. You need to create "flow". Now, what that is exactly, I still don't know.
• Have the cream and sugar in small serving tins. Bah! Hostess-ing 101!
• Have a playlist ready to roll before the guests arrive. Dur!
• Wake up an extra 30 minutes early to get to the Farmer's Market (not because you necessarily need to buy anything, but simply because carrying that little "green friendly" shopping bag around will make you feel more accomplished about the coming event...as if it was an essential bit of multi-tasking.)
• Do not begin pre-heating the oil too early...uncommon mistake, but in an effort to be efficient, these sorts of mishaps happen.
• Pre-route the natural, "let's move to the living room" moment. You would think this would just happen. But sometimes you still need to make that announcement of sorts. Who knew?
• Buy Sisterita flowers for being an awesome cook!!!

[I feel that some of you may be disappointed that this post will in no way humiliate Sisterita or I...sorry? I am sure that we will make up for that in NO TIME.]