In Wooden Acting

What's a word for a review that comes out two years after the movie? Irrelevant? So be it. But I finally just saw "Capote" and was seriously disappointed. Philip Seymour Hoffman was great, but to the rest of the cast: whatever happened to acting?

1.) What did they tell Chris Cooper, "We're not giving you any lines, just scowl for ninety minutes?"

2.) Was Harper Lee really so depressed? It seemed like she could barely summon the energy to get in her oh so subtle digs at Capote.

3.) Hello Hickock and Perry. In reality, two extremely violent men, played in the movie like lovable doofuses, particularly Hickock.

I'm thinking the problem with movies and having kids is that you tend to watch movies on DVD rather than at the theatre and lose the style of the big screen, weighing your expectations for the movie more toward substance, which is not fair to movies because they are largely about style. For instance, those long shots of the Cutter home were gorgeous on our little TV and surely a real stunner on the movie screen, but that aspect of cinema loses its punch on the television.

Which is why I am going to see the upcoming Bond film at the theatre.

Kill Your Critic

I shouldn't complain, but I will. I read a lot of books on the craft of writing and burn through a couple a week sometimes, mostly because I don't always read the entire book. Most writing books, poetically, are terrible. Not in a grammatical or structural way, but boring, uninspiring, pedantic.

The worst books have a piece of recurring advice that grates on me. The gist of the advice is: if you write a passage or scene that you think is particularly fine, that you are super proud of, that you think is amazing—delete it.

The proponents of delete-your-good-writing rely heavily on the quote, alternately attributed to William Faulkner and Mark Twain, "Kill your darlings."

The premise of this argument seems to be: you are so self unaware/narcissistic/tone deaf that if you think it is good, it must be bad, so cut it out. If a carpenter is super proud of a staircase she built, should she rip it out? Why would anyone who is such a poor judge of writing be a writer in the first place?

There are times I write something I think makes me look really smart and I don't want to delete because I want to impress, but deep in my heart I know it's a pathetic crock of crap. Yes, that should be cut and I would wholeheartedly back the advice: "Kill your pretentious crap." Honestly assessing your writing is different than not trusting your instincts.

Today's rant is over.

I Rated It

For some reason, this list started creating itself in my head. Things that are underrated and things that are overrated.

OVERRATED
1. Cling Wrap, does it ever work
2. Stephen Colbert, so much yelling
3. Thai Food, you never get enough to fill you up
4. Those flattened pretzel chips, yuck
5. Gum chewing, like my best friend's mother told us in 8th grade: you two look like cows chewing cud

UNDERRATED
1. Body Pillow, not just for pregnant women
2. Chelsea Lately, keeps a great straight face
3. Vietnamese Food, yum
4. Grapefruit Izze, double yum
5. Flossing, bad breath would virtually disappear if everyone flossed

SOMEONE I'D LIKE TO THROTTLE
Whoever is responsible for the widgets "feature" in Tiger

Feel the Burn

Speaking of disco, I was at the gym yesterday (bi/tri day) and some vaguely familiar post-disco (new wave?) song was throbbing out of the speakers. I couldn't place the band right away. Tom Tom Club? No. Depeche Mode? I went back and forth between the two bands when I realized it was ... Roxy Music!

I'd never thought of Roxy Music as remotely disco, but there it was: "Dance away the heartache, dance away the pain..."

Hopping over to Wikipedia, I find: Roxy Music provided "a model for many New Wave acts and the subsequent New Romantic." And what, do tell, is New Romantic? "Depeche Mode, Spandau Ballet, Visage, Japan, Ultravox, Adam & The Ants, Culture Club, Duran Duran."

Maybe this is neither news nor interesting to anyone else, but I'm rather shocked. It shatters the neat compartmentalization of my college years, and therefore life as I know it.

But What About "I Will Survive"?

I always knew disco could save lives. Turns out "Staying Alive" helps doctors perform CPR. The song contains 103 beats per minute, almost identical to the human heart. I have no idea what this means really but here's hoping your paramedic is wearing an iPod next time you require resuscitating (I bet you can't spell resuscitating without a spellchecker. I couldn't). "Another One Bites The Dust" does almost as well, but the irony factor cancels out the benefit, according to doctors. Personally, I'd be thrilled to be resuscitated by either of these hits. And I can vouch for their life-saving abilities; both of them already helped me survive adolescence.

Dexter Uses Glide

Here from the opening credits of "Dexter," that's Glide dental floss, is it not? I appreciate that Dexter brushes and flosses after breakfast, rather than before. This is a necessity for non-foul breath.

Dexter dominates me. "Just one episode" I told myself, giddily freeing Disc 1 Season 2 from its Netflix wrapping. All three episodes (what, no extras?) and three hours later it was midnight and still I could have watched the entire season back to back if they weren't stuck in my queue. Now if only there were more scenes with Lauren Velez.

Watch Out For Flipper

With the Dow plunging and Social Security maybe going bankrupt, and visions of yourself eating cat food in your old age etc., et al, you may be wondering: what should I have them do with my body after I die? Cash out what's left of your retirement savings and buy yourself a plot in this underwater cemetery, of course. Plots are surprisingly affordable, according to its web site. I cannot confirm this because I don't have the correct Java or something to roll over a plot and get a price. But maybe you do.

Supposedly it's good for the environment, yes your loved ones can dive and visit your grave and yes there are financing options.

You may have other questions about underwater burial. If so, click here.

The Truth About Blood Orange Soda

Sad to say, I have not found my beloved Galvanina Blood Orange Soda at Costco the last two times I've been. If this saddens me, it must sadden a lot of people—"Galvanina Blood Orange Soda" is the number one search term with which people find my blog. More popular even than my name, which has never once been used to find my blog, showing you the unmined frontier googling my name remains. If you're suspecting that I'm now typing Galvanina Blood Orange Soda just to drive traffic to my site, that's simply untrue.

In point of fact I was at Target today and discovered they carry "Archer's Farm Blood Orange Soda" and with trepidation, I purchased a bottle. What I give you is a comparison of the two brands, bearing in my mind my observations on the Galvanina are from distant memory.

1.) The labels. Galvanina's is better. The blood orange against the green background is mesmerizing, like a jewel nestled in moss. Also, the name Archer's Farm: it's discordant. First there is archer, which conjures one image, then there is farm which conjures another, then the art on the label looks more Armitage Avenue Boutique than either archer or farm.

2.) The color. Galvanina's is a much bloodier red. Archer's is grapefruit pink. Galvanina's is more dramatic; Archer's more natural. They've both got that cloudy orange stuff at the bottom which I suppose represents the blood orange pulp.

3.) The smell. They both have the same smell, effervescenty, grapefuity with a touch of sweet delight.

4.) Taste. Pretty much the same until the aftertaste. Galvanina's had an aftertaste of piquant blood orange. Archer's has a chemically aftertaste that lasts entirely too long.

5.) Other. Galvanina is organic. If Archer's is, the label doesn't mention it. Galvanina comes in cases of four and the cases look super European as if you're sipping your soda in Rome. Though both brands are made in Italy, Archer's packaging pretty domestic looking, so there is no grandiose hey-lookitme-I'm-so-cosmopolitan fantasy element involved.

6.) Conclusion. Galvanina wins though Archer is a little less sweet, which I like, and adequate if one cannot find Galvanina.

Crust! Bwah Ha Ha!

Speaking of the 70s, am I the only one who loved Wacky Packs? Apparently not, because there is now a Wacky Packages (as they are formally known) coffee table book. I loved the stickers but hated the gum. It was the gum version of soylent green—flat, dry as hell and shattered in your mouth like a potato chip. But the stickers—hilarious. Sea Honkies for Sea Monkeys, yark! And who knew the artists were Art Spiegelman and Jay Lynch? How uber cool is that. If you've never fully witnessed the rare jewel that is Wacky Pack, take a tour here.

Fourth Is The New First

Not really, it isn't at all. But I placed fourth in a First Chapter of a Novel contest for the first chapter of my (in process) novel, The Second Whack. Synposis as follows:

15 year-old Annabelle Macalester is obsessed with the identity of her anonymous sperm donor and, unbeknownst to her two moms, tracks him down over the Internet. But when an altercation with a drug-crazed neighbor leaves the neighbor dead and Annabelle facing murder charges, Annabelle learns more about identity, family and belonging than she bargained for.

There were 142 entries, so I am pretty stoked. You can read my chapter and the other four winners' chapters at Writing Show's web site.