Always nice when a longstanding problem inches closer to resolution. And tomorrow a little technical issue at work that snowballed into a big crisis collides against the mighty wall that is a new sweet piece of technology and stops piling into my knees.
Or at least changes course.
Enough tech babble. Someone please tell these two cats to stop pretending they don’t like each other. Charade over Ms. Abra and Mr. Oedipus.
A more apt title for this movie is how an engaging film filled with good actors and a tight story died one weekend in August at the side of the box office. Scott Pilgrim oozes with everything a large budget Hollywood flick usually avoids: creativity, edginess and passion.
With all those character flaws stacked against it, I have no idea how this movie ever got made, but I’m glad it was. Because the film at its heart is funny.
One need not be a graphic novel geek to appreciate the familiar framing and composition of the shots and the meter of a storyboard driven plot. At times it’s campy, maybe even sompy. Other moments are satirical or snarky. Always though, Scott Pilgrim entertains.
What works about Scott Pilgrm:
1) Translating a graphic novel for the screen can be very difficult. The director bridges the different forms while preserving the spirit of the story, and yet does so while recognizing the strengths of the live action medium. The end results hits the audience in a way only a good movie can.
2) Combat scenes: Who knew Michael Cera could fight so well? Or even fake fighting so well.
3) Very witty.
4) The stunts. Surprisingly.
Verdict: DVD purchase.
As the last horizons of summer beckoned, and the faculty began their annual march back to campus, getting a jump on the weekend not only seemed like a good idea, it seemed urgent. And I listened to experience.
On Monday high alert status ensues, a seven week long period where the nights and weekends after work are not really my own. In place of dreams, technical problems from the days before brawl for their slice of what’s left of my subconscious mind. This era of heightened awareness concludes the first weekend of October, when the students disembark for an all school trip. Shortly thereafter, breathing during the day gets a lot easier. Check that: There’s actually time for breathing.
Before the insanity begins though, there was the day off. After sleeping in, and checking the Internets, I grabbed the CamelBak and hit the trail.
For various reasons, haven’t hiked much this summer. More importantly, my last round trip through these particular woods was nearly three years ago. Over the past ten years, probably covered the eight mile loop three dozen times. Good thing, too.
While the trail was exactly the same after all this time–albeit even more impacted thanks to erosion, a dry summer, and increased foot traffic–the blazes looked different. Different not in the sense that there were less markers in new places, but just as profound. My eyes tried to reconcile the all new color schema.
While not terribly dependent on blazes, when it’s been a few years and you just know blue intersects orange, only now white crosses pink ( and green/white ), it does cause the odd double take. Especially towards the end, long after killing the last shard of beef jerky.
Changes aside, a very good loop. I’m going to make it a point to get at least one long hike a week between now and Halloween. Perhaps into early winter if the weather prove mild. Thoughts just come much easier in the woods, particularly the creative sort of thoughts. That’s an important lesson to rediscover.
Particularly when things get crazy.
Every tenant in the building received a note from the landlord this week about “The Situation”. But this situation was even more embarrassing than the “actor” from Seaside by way of somewhere-else-not-sure-but-it-isn’t-New-Jersey.
Anyway here’s an excerpt of the missive about the plumbing disaster of the past week:
The following items will clog the plumbing:
1) Grease
2) Large food waste items
3) Baby wipes
4) Female hygiene products
5) Kitty Litter
6) Drano
7) Long hair
8) Paper towels.
Now I must admit I have been tempted to pour grease down the kitchen drain on occasion, the occasion being laziness. It cannot be alleged that on the rare days of the big bastard greasy breakfast, a bit of grease has never found its way down the pipes. Not a point alleged by me, anyway.
Certainly the landlord has a right to request that none of these items enter the plumbing system. No one wants a clogged pipe, much less water leaking into, around or down into their apartment. Going forward, any grease from the big bastard breakfast will go in a pickle jar kept for storage purposes.
So the hardship of this sacrifice does not really inconvenience me. No, I worry about the other occupants. My fellow tenants with four legs.
If my cats can’t flush their long hair encrusted in kitty litter bombs sealed in paper towels and follow it down with some grease blobs and a bottle of Drano, gosh what fun does the Cat Army have left to them?
Guess it’s back to the street gang for them again.