I Heart Jonathon Pryce

I have a flu or something like it. I've either been reading, writing, or watching movies all day today and most of yesterday. I flixed Carrington on the rumor that it was a good movie; I had no idea what it was about or who would be in it. I was surprised to see two of my favorite actors named in the opening credits. Jonathon Pryce was second-billed. I chuckled. When I saw him, rather, when I heard him a moment later--I didn't recognize him with that ridiculous beard he sports throughout the entire movie--I laughed aloud for a couple minutes. The beard was just that ridiculous. I think I first fell in love with him as Elliot Carver, one of the more original Bond villians in Tomorrow Never Dies. Then I watched one of my absolute favorite movies last year for the first time, Brazil. I can't describe enough how much I love this movie and how I often find absurd similarities between that movie and my life. Or between me and Sam Lowry, especially when I'm fever-dreaming. Anyway, love that guy.

Rufus Sewell is the other surprise actor in Carrington. Sure, sure, one might say that I think he's a really cool guy because we share a last name. But that's hardly why; they're are plenty of Sewells out there that I don't care for very much. Rufus just has a certain flair for being an ass that I really adore in A Knight's Tale (which I think is gernally underrated). He also did a great job as hero in Dark City, another of my absolute favorite movies. As for Carrington itself, I thought it was a great flick if not a little predictable at times (for instance the end is no surprise). Ok, I'm going to get back to watching movies and taking my meds. I also got Trainspotting, which for some reason I've never seen before. Let's see if I enjoy it as much as I think I will. Just thought you should know...


Che cosa accade qui, rimane qui.

Ok, reiterating something that I think I've already once mentioned, Matt and I are throwing an Intergalactic Kegger Down Here. Here being our basement apartment in K-town. The official invite is that link back there. Be patient; it's kind of a big page. Everybody who's anybody will be elsewhere being boring. You and all the other cool folk I know should come. All are welcome. Let me know if you need directions. Costumes are welcome but optional. Kegs will be here. Party on!


The Smudge

And so the wisdom has been passed: when magic swords fail, you must believe in yourself. Sometimes believing is all you have. Well, that and hope... hope that your sword gets its magic back in time for the big dragon fight at the end.

And so it came to pass that I read this article. I'm sure everyone I know has read it but the piece is one of the more entertaining I've read at the Onion in a few months, so I'll link to it anyway!

And so it came to pass that I divined The answer. To briefly answer Scott, though he has not yet thricely asked: Vasco Nunez de Balboa was the first European to see the eastern Pacific shore. He had led an expedition across the isthmus of present-day Panama in 1513 in search of gold; finding the Pacific instead, Balboa claimed the entire ocean and all its shores for Spain--much to the consternation and misfortune and utter conquest of the relatively local native inhabitants. Balboa's ultimate reward for his acheivements was a beheading at the hands of an envious colonial governor, Avila. Of course in Avila's defense, Balboa was still facing drawn-out charges of usurpation and just happened to be betrothed to Avila's daughter. Apparently that didn't go over very well.

And so it came to pass that the dragon attacked at the end. Look out! Ahhhhh!!! It's Trogdor!!! Run for your lives!!!! No, wait! Hopefully you believed just enough... if we're lucky enough... yes... YES!! The sword has remagicked! Goith thee forth and smite the mighty Trogdor and saveth thine peasants fromith evil! Ith!

[EDITORIAL NOTE: Tecnically one cannot defeat Trogdor within the game due to the fact that the character played is said Trogdor himself. But one can die quickly at the hands of the knights which is just as good. Also, one can enjoy the theme song.]


Matt Damon

Ok, ok, I'm going to see Team America: World Police TODAY. I caught maybe 10 minutes of it last night and I fucking literally fell over laughing. I couldn't believe it. I was skeptical, even after EVERYONE on Monday exclaimed and spewed praise for everything about the movie. Not anymore. Now I really really really want to see what it's all about. All I caught was something about F.A.G. and Kim Jong Il conspiring together?! It was fucking great!


Who da thunk I'd live to see 23?

Fall Break [un]officially ended at 9:40 this morning.



The Greatness of 18 October (and 16 and 17 and maybe 15)

Hey, hey, what does everyone say? It's me. I've returned to the internet. The past 5 days or so have been a blast. I've consumed more beer in the past week than the rest of the semester and probably half the summer combined. That small stat alone makes these past days noteworthy. Yet partaking in a drop or two... score was a mere backdrop to all the fun I'd been missing out on by regularly attending classes, working, blah, blah, that whole drill.

I finally made it camping again. It'd been something like a month since I last spent a wet, cold night in some wind-filled woods. It was great! The colors were spectacular in the highlands of Shanandoah NP. Plus it was some good quality time with Chris and Scott; we hiked, we slept, we played with fire, uh... oh, we had a few beers. I climbed up and around a couple of decently sized waterfalls. Ya know that sort of slippery rock, craggy bottom kind of waterfall where had mom been there she would have killed me. Of course Chris fell attempting some stupid long jump from rock to rock. All to keep his shoes dry. They got wet. And his feet, and socks, and so on.

Better than the camping in the highlands of Shanandoah, though, are all the beautiful lowland valleys just outside the park and all the wine produced therein. The real point of camping so far away was to visit this one meadery. Smokehouse Winery, an establishment devoted to the fermenting of honeywine, turned out to be real adventure on its own. It was the closest one I could find to K-town via my online research. And it was run by some sort of wired ex-stoner, ex-crack-addict, ex-grunge-hippy, etc. depending on the decade. He was a fucking awesome mead-making, dulcimer-collecting, Rappahannock-residing character that does a real half-assed job of running his business. And as we found out a bit later, he even had a reputation of sorts amongst other vintners in the area. Really, he's almost a hero of mine. But all that aside, he makes good mead. At least having never had mead before, I liked it quite a bit, though it might really suck when compared to other meads. Though I doubt it given all the negative remarks people have made regarding their own mead experiences.

Other wine in the area was very top-notch, though the operations are so small that they generally only sell out of the house or online. Of course, this being Tennessee, I can't order alcoholic beverages from outside the state. Er, rather, I can order wine but it cannot be sent from out of state. So, I'll just have to go back sometime:)

Saturday was a perfect precursor to a birthday (that's really what Fall Break is about, celebrating my birth unto existence). Fresh from three nights of camping, I arrived just in time to take a shower and head towards Brewer's Jam. It was as I expected! Friends, people I know yet rarely see, people I haven't seen in years, more brews than I could possibly drink, even just trying each one, and of course, me actually trying to taste each one and failing by the time 9 rolled around. And then there was a quick whirlwind of parties. Thankfully, Matt and I stuck together or else I might have really lost myself in the Fort. I vaguely recall Cavanaugh's art'n'arch thing with the lips, Sam's party store, a short encounter with Chris, and I even thought I witnessed Tank, the mythical figure of some tales John and the Desciples shared with me at the Fest. After a couple hours of that, some fun I didn't expect came along.

I found Holly's place and then there was dancing! Somewhere, um, Blue Cat's, no Tonic, no Fiction, yes that's....arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggh! Yes, and people were there! Those words are pretty true to how I remember that part of the night. Well, no, I'm a liar. I guess I can remember a lot more detail than that. Plus there was no bridge gaurded by the one known as Tim. Though there were some Smithvillites present. Though I don't think Cara and Anna were gaurding any bridges. Maybe. But it was probably a metaphor anyway, and I'm no good with those. They're good dancers and cool people anyway. I'm happy to have been there for a club cherry-popping and a fellow mid-October birthday celebration! Happy birthday, Anna Rockanova!! <--sp? Last year I turned 22 the day Brewer's Jam happened. I know from experience how much fun it can be!

Anyway, the dancing. I love dancing. I don't think I'm very good on my feet like that though, and often enough it keeps me calmly to the side of the dance floor for a few minutes while I rage with inner conflict. This night I was totally uninhibited for some reason. No fretting on the sidelines this time. The booze had done it's trick. I danced like I hadn't in many moons. And I hadn't, so I was honestly moving and sweating and grooving away amongst my fellow revelers. I'm very glad to have been there that night amongst those friends. In fact that's true of the whole weekend and the Fall Break before. Now I'm looking foward to the rest of the day. Tonight, I eat well. Then I'm going out to actually celebrate me, or at least that I'm now 23. Twenty-three, that's a good number. I'll be glad to be with anyone and everyone who wants to go out and celebrate.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?