An Open Letter, Quack Quack

Dear Jeremiah et al: Thank you, first of all, for ensuring that all of Oregon gets to have the incredibly cool experience of watching you guys duke it out with Quizz and Canfield next weekend for a trip to the Rose Bowl. Everyone is super excited. Really. Super psyched.

In light of this totally historic season, you might think that I'm being kind of ungrateful, but I feel like I need to ask,

for the next game can you not win in double overtime? A double overtime that you only ended up in because you scored a TD with like, I don't know, under 20 seconds left in regulation?

I'm not asking for me. I mean, it was definitely a game that was too close to comfort for me. But I'm really asking for Bruce. He's not as young as he used to be. And if YOU saw him sitting in his leather recliner, in front of that giant new television, white knuckling it for the 15 minutes or so that it took to decide the game, you'd understand why it might be more healthy for him if you could just play, from now on, with a commanding lead. Really. The Dorseys would all totally appreciate it.

And really guys, I'm not trying to take anything from you. It's awesome. Go Ducks.

Kristin

Down a Hole

Several people have asked me to comment on this.

These are people who know that I am a minor expert on All Things Alice (no, really. it is something that I legitimately know a lot about. That is what happens when you write your undergraduate and Masters theses on the same thing. And then become a bit of a collector.) AND also a pretty big Tim Burton fan. (Although I wouldn't necessarily call myself an expert.) I think that these well-meaning people are thinking that I am excited about this film.

I am not.

Don't get me wrong. I will have to see it as soon as it comes out (March 5, 2010). But I have low, low, low expectations. It's going to be amazing looking. Burton doesn't make anything that isn't. This is why I love his films. But, generally, and boy does it pain me to say this, I would just as soon watch his films with the sound off. Because Tim Burton has NO talent for storytelling (Edward Scissorhands notwithstanding). Seriously. He ruins just about every film he makes by not being able to pace or satisfyingly conclude narratives. I don't necessarily hold this against him. He's much more interested in creating something visual than he is in storytelling.*

But I actually care about All Things Alice. And I do not need to see Burton reconceive Alice as he did Sleepy Hollow (which, again, was beautiful, but certainly made Washington Irving turn in his dark, dank, gothic-y grave).

My fears have NOT been allayed by this trailer, because if I am reading it correctly, it looks like Johnny Depp's Mad Hatter might be narrating the film. This does not bode well. First of all, the Mad Hatter is the most annoying and over-remembered character Lewis Carroll created. (The Doormouse really steals the unbirthday tea party scene, after all.) Also, I, for one, am somewhat tired of the Burton/Depp lovefest. Johnny Depp is not the best actor to play every character that Burton has ever wanted to feature. He wasn't the right choice for Willie Wonka. NOR Sweeney Todd. And certainly not Icabod Crane. (He was, certainly, the right choice for Edward Scissorhands, and was an inspired casting choice as Ed Wood.) I anticipate hating this character.

That said, the visuals will make it watchable, as will performances by Alan Rickman, Christopher Lee, Stephen Fry (! YAY ! As the Cheshire Cat!) and Crispin Freakin' Glover.

*This is actually something that a lot of my favorite directors have in common--an overriding interest in one aspect of filmmaking that leads him (usually him) to under-develop most other aspects. SO, for instance, Kevin Smith is so much more interested in dialogue than almost anything else that his movies tend to look like crap. Strangely, this does not make me like him any less.

Product Review. Sort of.

If'n you know me at all, you likely know that I am a serious sucker for novelty. If you slap "NEW!" on a package, particularly on a package containing candy or cleaning product, or maybe hair products I am likely to buy it. If you then stick that package right next to the check out at Target (silent T) Boutique, then I definitely will buy it. I recognize that this is exactly what companies want me to do. And I don't care. Buying a product that I've never seen before is a cheap thrill.

SO--when I was at the abovementioned retail outlet, and I saw the word "NEW!" emblazoned across a package of chewing gum, I gladly shelled out $1.19 to try it. After all, it could turn out to be a delicious taste sensation like the Grapefruit Tic Tacs I picked up in September.

This new gum is called Eclipse Breeze, which is a really weird name, when you figure out what it is. It comes in two flavors--Exotic Mint and Exotic Berry. Knowing that artificial berry products are a real crapshoot, I went for the mint. This was truly an impulse buy and I didn't do my research (that is to say, I didn't read the label). So imagine my surprise when I got outside to my car and realized that the gum is "NEW!" because it contains cardamom. At that point I knew that I had dodged a bullet. Because here are words that DO NOT belong together: "gum"/"berry"/"cardamom."

In fact, I wasn't sure how I felt about mint and cardamom either. But the damage to my coin purse had already been done, so I went ahead and chewed a piece.

I don't know how I feel about this product. It's good for the breath (cardamom is a natural breath refresher). In general, I am a big fan of cardamom--it is great in cookies, and in chai, and the Pied Cow* used to have a delicious cardamom honey steamer that was totally worth sitting around with stinky hippies. But cardamom and mint is a somewhat awkward combo and certainly it is not something I would describe as "breezy." (Mikey J. suggested that they call it something like "Eclipse Earth," which does work a little better, but may not sell gum.)

It's a weird product. I don't think I'd buy it again, but I also wouldn't turn it down if someone offered it to me. I don't quite know why I'm even telling you all about it, except that I am sort of hoping to hear how other people have reacted to this product. Have you tried it? What do you think?


*I haven't been to the Cow in years and years. It reminds me too much of the Portland version of Spiderhouse, and that doesn't really recommend it. It also hasn't been the same since they started serving alcohol. I have good memories there though. Once a friend of mine almost burnt it down with the candle from our table. And the first time someone proposed to me, it was there.

Unending Cycle

Since nothing else seems to keep him down, I am willing to go Buffy on Brett Favre's ass. Now. Right now. Before we have to endure another whole year of annoying and completely unnecessary Favre "news"/opinion. I am neutral about which of the methods would be most effective:

1. Stake through the heart and reburial in consecrated ground.

2. Silver bullet.

Or maybe we just need to call the Frog Bros out of retirement. I'm pretty sure JBro has their numbers on speed dial.

Hiatus

Loyal friends and readers and reader/friends: um. Sorry about that. I wasn't planning on taking a sabbatical for over a month. I'm not even totally sure why it has happened.

Part of it is summer. Summer makes me restless and I have a hard time concentrating.

Part of it is that I am awfully distracted right now. I have a lot of big, important, life things on my mind. And they aren't really the kind of things that I blog about. (Thank your lucky stars for that, people.) That has been making it hard to think, let alone write, about much else.

Part of it is that I'm teaching a class this summer that I am finding personally and professionally challenging.

Part of it is that I'm not seeing movies, or going out much, or listening to much new music, and so I don't feel like I have much to write about.

But I think I'm coming out of it. I have several things that I would like to discuss with you all. These topics include, but are not limited to:

* Frank Black's opening act at the Aladdin Theatre last week.

* The Limits of Control, The Brother's Bloom and Children's Books (if that sounds like the title of a boring academic article, you are right. But you will read it and love it).

* Something weird I have recently realized about my musical taste.

* Swapping book suggestions with my mom.

* Mountain cows.

Thank you all for still checking in with me, and for actually caring about whether I write. I don't know if I deserve it, but I feel awfully loved.

The People in Your Neighborhood

One of the best things about living in a city like Portland for almost your whole life is that there are people all over the city that become part of your living community, just by virtue of the fact that they too live and work in the city. There are many places I can go and see the same faces that I've seen there for years--some of the booksellers at Powell's (especially Hawthorne, but downtown too). Barisitas like super hot Corey (that's big M to you, Qwanty) who works at Stumptown, but worked at Common Grounds for years. DJs--especially the kind who spin 80s tunes and favor velvet pants. Bartenders like Kip and BLT. Or regulars like the guys at BOG (including the artist otherwise known as Justin, of the painting of the girl with tiny hands).

One of my favorite neighborhood people, though, is Ivy. Ivy works at Arvey's Office supplies on Grand. I have long preferred to service my considerable office supply habit at Arvey's rather than at one of the huge suburban chain stores, and Ivy is one of the big reasons. She's very cool--always smiling, always sporting some arty jewelry, always quick with the small talk, or compliments, or catalogs for special orders. She has been at the front register at Arvey's ever since I started going there, which was not long after I started driving. To me, she's a one-woman institution.

Today I stopped in to pick up some of the black pens I like and I got into her line to check out. She mentioned, as she was ringing up my purchase, that she was retiring at the end of this week. She's going to devote herself to relaxing and making art. This is awesome for Ivy, because I'm sure that she totally deserves to spend time doing something that makes her really happy. This is much less awesome for Ivy's longtime customers, for whom shopping at Arvey's is not going to be quite the same anymore.

"Did you see THAT?"

Lest someone should beat me to it---

On Friday night, Mikey J. encouraged me to see The Hangover with him. The motivation, for me, was not the film, which I was not AT ALL interested in. Rather, it was the opportunity of spending time with Mike, and the very real possibility that I could talk him into a drink or two after. My expectations actually sank when we got into the theatre, where we were surrounded by 110 guys in their 20s and 30s, all of whom clearly failed out of college because they were more committed to their frat houses than their relatively undemanding state school course schedules. But Mike said to stick it out. He said that this was JUST the audience we wanted to see this film with. He told me, with glee, that THIS was going to be a really funny movie.

Oh boy, was he right.

Now, before I talk about this movie, I want to make it clear that my conscience will not allow me to actually recommend this film to anyone. Instead, I can only tell you my experience of it. Make of this what you will:

I have only one other time ever had the feeling I had when I walked out of the theatre after this film. Remember Sin City? When I left that film, I felt shell shocked. I had been completely assaulted by violence. I couldn't tell you why that film seemed overwhelming violent to me (although I have a few ideas, which I would tell you over a beer, if you asked). But I remember feeling exhausted after it, and like I could NEVER see another film with any violence ever again.

I never could have thought that I could be equally assaulted by comedy. But I was. In this film.

There was a point in the film (and I won't tell you what that point was, so as to avoid any spoilers), when I started laughing uncontrollably and didn't stop until at least 5 minutes into the next scene. I thought I was going to be sick. It wasn't so much that the scene itself was so funny--it was more that so much horrible, horrible comedy had been heaped upon me up to that point that I lost it. And by "it" I mean both reason and control.

Don't get me wrong. I was completely offended. Particularly by one scene that actually involves a baby and physical humor. (You know, the lowest form of humor--Marx Bros humor. Where you watch someone get hurt and then laugh. But A BABY gets hurt. A BABY, people.) I did not laugh at his. I was shocked and amazed.

And yet.

I don't know.

It was still funny. Funnier than anything else I can remember. Funny, people.

To add insult to injury, this film actually has sort of a smart narrative structure, and a particularly pleasing gimmick ending--an ending, which, by the way, had me wondering what a film has to do these days to be given an X rating. Because, friends, this is not your parents' R-rated movie. (Thanks to you, Kevin Smith, for taking on the MPAA--twice--and helping to almost single-handedly assure that male full frontal will be de rigueur in dude comedies for the foreseeable future.)

I know that this is not a very detailed discussion, but I don't want to ruin the experience for anyone. Should anyone choose to see this film. Which I'm not recommending. But if you do, call me. We'll compare notes.