Closure

The answer to the riddle from the previous note is: Christina Aguilera, in a song penned by Sia. It was tough to pick a winner out of the deluge of submissions, but I suppose the award goes to anonymous. Unfortunately, it will never actually get delivered on acount of their anonymity.

Suffused

After drifting in and out of consciousness for several hours, I finally climbed out of bed at 1 p.m. Took a shower, grabbed a book, and got on a tram to the Morskie Oko park to join Natalia, Filip, Kazia, a cute little dog, and an even cuter baby girl. Plopped down on the grass and proceeded to have the nicest, most ridiculously relaxing day in ages. At one point Filip hopped off to grab some blankets and - get this - bring people home-brewed coffee in one of those "to go" paper cups. He actually called my cell from his place to ask if I take sugar in mine. I'm making a conscious effort not to hyperbolize, but it was amazing.

Around 4 we slowly made our way to Filip and Natalia's place - where we were joined by Szymon - had some delicious Indian take-out (I already warned them that I'll drop by just for the food), drank some wine, and lazily dispersed. I got home almost two hours ago and have since been half-heartedly trying to pull my brain out of molasses, as I really need to get something done by Monday. So far it's mostly been a book and music though.

Speaking of... this is one of those moments where I kind of regret only 5 people ready this thing now. Anyway, here's a little musical riddle - and my soundtrack for today. If you're in the mood for a simple, but really quite beautiful lullaby, give it a try. And then tell me who sings it. It's not a difficult one, so don't expect a huge challenge, but maybe you'll find some use for it on a blissful summer evening of your own.

Corpus Christi

For the past 2 days I've been doing an express translation of a documentary on how it sucked to be gay in Paraguay during the previous dictatorship. I thought was really well done, and not overly traumatic. It helped that the story was told from a personal angle - the filmmaker was basically just trying to figure out what happened to her uncle (who was found dead in his apartment several years before), and the whole familial and political context was only gradually revealed. Still, rape with a broken bottle was invoked at one point, and it was by no means a relaxing thing, so I desperately needed to unwind.

And unwind I did, scheduling a "lazy day with ice cream and waffles" with Ana. It is Corpus Christi after all (though it turns out neither of us knows exactly what the God-fearing folk are celebrating today). Met up downtown, went for a lazy stroll, plopped down by the river - where it was nice and cool - and talked. Well, to be precise, I spilled family scandals and saucy stories, while Ana kvetched. About students being dumb, about wages being too low, you name it. Fun was had. Then we went to that Mexican place at Plac Teatralny, where the waiter explained to me that a burrito is a tortilla baked in a pancake, and to Ana that the non-alcoholic drink called "Mandragora" consists of rum, lime and sparkling water.

Actually, yesterday I went to a vegan cafeteria, and the guy behind the counter served me rice instead of kasha* and some sort of lentil thing instead of a kofta. I only called him on the rice, cause it was GLARINGLY OBVIOUS, to which he apologized and said they were out of kasha and that he just inquired about my preference out of habit. Still, I felt like I was being punked. And now the tortilla pancake. A pattern? Is someone trying to test how much shit I'll eat to avoid a confrontation with the service sector? Cause man... "buckets" doesn't even begin to cover it.

And in the evening we had apocalypse weather again. This time a bizarre, intensely yellow dusk that made all the colors seem richer somehow. And then it turned to sepia. Still waiting for random people to supply me with images.

Oh, i went through the entire Muse album and only one other song caught my attention, but it did so with a fistful of grappling hooks - been looping it since. If you're into epic, Depeche-y, space opera sort of stuff, take a listen:

Several things. The title: is kind of awesome, and apparently a Club of Rome reference, so the IR major in me rejoices. The voice: I actually kind of hate, pitch-wise. I sometimes listen to people whose voices I'm not wild about (Tori, Alanis), but still, this would usually be a dealbreaker. However, something weird happens when I listen to live recordings, where the lead singer's vibrato is even more pronounced. Somehow this pushes the sound past Annoying, and into Gratingly Bizarre territory, and my brain starts treating it as yet another instrument. Also - I have to give him props for totally delivering live. He belts it all out effortlessly, and with studio quality. It's almost uncanny. Finally - while digging up info on the title, I happened upon a passage that said the opening line - Fear and panic in the air - is likely a reference to Mars, whose two moons are Phobos and Deimos, gods of fear and panic. Which, be it true or not, adds a very nice twist to an otherwise pedestrian lyric.

* how cool is it that kasza is kasha? Is it really that local a thing?

And the superstar is sucked into the supermassive

Heavy, boiling clouds over Warsaw, man. The sort that form just before the death ray strikes. Looks awesome.

Edit: and Ana provided me with visuals.

Edit2: And I stole another one from Kazia - this one shows the "death ray" clouds better

Oh my God, are you 12?!

Twilight persists, most recently due to this gem:

But also, I finally remembered that I actually liked one of the songs sloshing around that cesspit, so I got the soundtrack to track it down. And apparently it is time for me the go up against the zeitgeist and check out Muse, universally reviled as they are. Supermassive Black Hole is just too fucking good.

In work-related news, I'm practicing diplomacy in an attempt to stem the tide of people who hate my guts. I think I've grown much better at it since last year. Fingers crossed.

And Parenthood has officially gone the Brothers & Sisters route. There's hardly been any comedy at all in the last few episodes, and they just keep laying on the melodrama. I also suspect that the "I consider myself too big to fail" speech - the first piece of truly atrocious dialogue the series has served me - was merely an opening salvo.

Cmon, people, look poignant! We're resolving issues here!

Ah well, I'll stick with it until the season finale. Unless that was the season finale, in which case are you fucking kidding me?

Also, reading Kathy Griffin's Official Book Club Selection and finding it better than I anticipated. Light, breezy, kind of informative, and funny without trying to be standup-ish.

Oh, and Mass Effect 2 kicks major Krogan ass. The dialogue sharp, witty and - on occasion - badass, and the voice acting is superb. I checked out the credits and it turns out my favorite NPC so far was voiced by Carrie-Anne Moss, and I still have Adam Baldwin to look forward too. And Claudia Black! Have you ever heard Claudia Black speak?!

Wormholes, man. Wormholes.

I've ruined World War I for myself

Let us take a moment to appreciate this:

I actually like to pretend that it's a screencap from some Joss Whedon show starring Jonathan Groff as a series regular, but you know, different strokes for different folks... And now let's move on to Showtime, because honestly, I'm kind of amazed. Here's why:

At first I found the second season of Nurse Jackie to be a bit lackluster. It wasn't as sharp and funny as before, and things got kind of heavy the more they got into the whole daughter's anxiety plotline, but I stuck with it and it turns out all that seems to have been a conscious choice on the writers' part, and the conclusion was spectacular. I think it might actually be a textbook example of how to build on a solid premise and weave all elements of the series into a dramatic and fully cohesive whole (as opposed to just making shit up as you go along and coming up with new problems for the characters to face). The one thing I'm worried about is that after the 2nd season closer - the last minute of which was a fucking masterpiece - it now feels almost too cohesive and self-contained, as if the full tale has been told. You can now kind of summarise it in the vein of Neil Gaiman's Sandman synopsis: Nurse Jackie is the tale of a woman who is faced with the consequences of her recklessness and must choose whether to stay true to herself. So where do you go from here?

As for United States of Tara, I wasn't entirely sold after the first season, but I started watching the second one because... well... I had nothing else to watch, really, and it really drew me in. They fleshed out the characters, especially the daughter, and somehow, somewhere halfway through, the whole multiple personality angle stopped seeming like a gimmick and became a natural element of the, up to a point where I actually started thinking I get why a transition occured at any given moment and, while not exactly able to predict which alter would make an appearance, I could still sort of understand and appreciate it in retrospect.

Plus, in the last episode there's this one line that's probably the closest approximation of my particular experience I've ever encountered in... well... culture. Which would be a tad more comforting, were  it not uttered by a 14-year-old.

Dusk

The party was on Sunday. People delivered. We had - among others - Poison Ivy, the Kingpin, V (the one with a vendetta), Brenda Starr, Ramona Flowers, Corto Maltese, two Supermen, two Rorschachs, and three Endless - Death, Delirium and Desire (though with my deathly pale complexion I looked more like an 80s Toreador).  We also had a rather freaky moment - suddenly several people (including myself) started coughing uncontrollably. At first I thought something got stuck in my throat, but then I noticed it was spreading. After a while three of us had had enough and we decided to get some fresh air. As soon as we stepped out of the club, the bouncer whipped around and barked "Get back inside!" So we did. At this point I started wondering if somebody's tryng to suffocate us, comic-book style, and actually asked Karolina if this was part of the festivities - a bizarre party trick, or something. But the hosts had no idea what was going on either. We learned the answer 10 minutes later - apparently some drunk guy tried to crash the party and the bouncer used pepper spray on him. Then he went into the club bathroom to wash up, trailing pepper spray residue, and returned to his post in case the guy came back. We were ordered to go back inside becuase he wasn't sure the coast was clear.

When it was time for cake and Happy Birthday, people started chanting "Speech!" and "More pepper spray!" The bouncer seemed amused.

Since then, we've had a flood. It started in the south, but as the wave is moving north towards the Baltic Sea, it inevitably has to pass Warsaw. The water level in Vistula has been rising steadily, and the wave is supposed to reach zenith tonight. So after sushi with Bohdan and Karolina, I took a walk down to the river bank to "see the flood" with my own eyes. The city looked almost Mediterranean - music and laughter spilling out of cafes, patios and courtyards packed with smarty dressed people... As I passed Nowy Świat and continued towards the music conservatory, I started seeing more and more cameras, and kind of regretted I didn't have one. It was a lovely evening, too - just warm enough to bring out all the carefully mixed scents of a metropolitan Friday night and get your blood pumping.

As of 9p.m., the water level was almost up to the bridges, and it was quite a surreal sight. I took a walk down the upper embankment (the lower one is already flooded) and saw that the entire right bank is lined with people - chatting, drinking, pushing strollers, taking pictures... River-watching has turned into a social event. In fact, I hear that last night - which is when the water first started rising - so many people flocked to the site that a spontaneous party broke out.

I had my music. There was a pleasant breeze. Some sort of gymnast was performing at Plac Zamkowy, and for some reason all the lights were out in Park Saski, except for the fountain illumination. As I negotiated a path between the trees and statues it occured to me that for a while now I've been featuring less and less prominently in other people's lives. And that I'm not really adverse to this tendency.

Maybe it's a Toreador thing.

Trials

The Ducal Pair's birthday is coming up, and once again it's a theme party - this time it's comic book characters. I had a lot of fun at the last one, so I decided to play ball once again and actually dress up. I even came up with a character I could do, though I actually can't pinpoint when I made the decision. I just remember not knowing who I would go as, and then having known all along.

Anyway, the character demands either serious cross-dressing, or very swanky formalwear. Needless to say, I went with option #2. I checked out tux rental places and learned that renting one for 2 days would cost me around 800PLN (though part of that is a deposit), and GOD FORBID it gets damaged somehow. Oh, and that I should have booked it 4 months ago. The tux rental idea morphed into snatching something from a theatre costume warehouse using my legendary connections, to finally emerge as Oh well, I might as well just buy myself a suit. Which was logical inasmuch as I don't actually own one. The only one I have was bought for my graduation and a) doesn't fit me, b) is filthy, and c) I seem to have misplaced the pants.

Still, it was one of the dumbest ideas I've ever had. Buying a suit is a gruelling, humiliating experience filled with vaguely condescending store attendants, four different sizing systems, outlandish pricetags, and clothes that should look awesome, except they don't seem to do that on you.

I braved that gauntlet with the aid of Ana and Miles, who had to be consulted in English. The teenaged fey goblin at the first store apparently took umbrage with that and started talking to his friend in Spanish, giggling while I changed from suit to suit. Ana wisely put herself in his good graces by loudly pointing out twice that naturally I wore the wrong kind of shirt. After three spins on the merry-go-round, I went back into the changing room with a rather strong conviction that I really don't need this shit. When I emerged, Ana took one look at my face and decreed that we should take a break and get something to eat.

So we ate. And then went to another store. Where the prices alone were enough to make me groan. At that point we were almost out of places to check out, and I fessed up to the fact that I actually dont even know what color I wanted (it's kind of difficult to find one that would be appropriate for a comic book character and all subsequent events with a dress code). I just knew I didn't want anything metallic or blue. In that moment we stopped in front of the last store, and in the window there was this weirdly textured, kind-of-black-but-not-quite one. Miles asked if that's the sort of thing I would want, and to my own surprise I said yes. It was worth more than my computer, and even at half price cost almost twice as much as I was initially prepared to spend. But we went in, I tried it on, and it fit me, and actually kind of resembled the cut of a jacket I had tried on a couple of days earlier, during my initial scouting mission, which magically transformed me into a very smart young gentleman, except one dressed in the ugliest shade of navy imaginable.

So I bought it. And then stormed through shoes (I had to be literally forced to even try the other one on, as far as I was concerned it was an in-and-out operation by then) and shirts. On the next day - undershirt, belt and tie. And today socks and... bling. That last part was the funniest. For some reason I was set on kitschy earwear, but it turned out that the type I was thinking of is considered GOTHIC JEWELRY, and - believe it or not - there don't seem to be any actual gothic stores in Warsaw. Goths have to make do with online stuff. And the online places don't make deliveries over the weekend. So I braved several trashy mall jewelry outlets, feeling very sheepish and - I would imagine - looking highly suspicious, until I found a ridiculous piece that seemed to kind of sort of go with the whole costume.

And so, my odyssey is over. The party is tomorrow, and then... then I'll be left with a Versace suit and a flashy gold ring, to do with as I please. So many options.

Good loglines

Via Pajiba. Kristen Wiig has optioned Clown Girl - a movie about Sniffles the Clown, a girl who tries to resist the lucrative clown-fetishist prostitution trade.

I'm so on board.

Spectacular

Hey, remember Pete Campbell's pristine little wife from Mad Men? Or repressed Annie from Community?

Even if you don't - read this.

Now in widescreen

I finally got pissed off that no youtube video I tried to post fit in the teensy little middle column of the previous layout, and switched templates. It's not as clean and polished, but definitely more embed-friendly. Comments, suggestions?

Back to the old thing until I figure out a way to mess with templates without getting rage blackouts.

Molten spike

So,  anybody seen Kickass?

Strands

It's been a headachey day. I've been trying to shake off a cold for a few days, and finally decided that what I need is some good old chicken soup. This being my world of nevercook, the part of chicken soup ended up being played by Vietnamese Pho from the takeout place. I hope it works.

I ended up in a professional cul de sac. I can either work on a Romanian documentary featuring quaint, rhymed folk ditties, a Polish newsreel featuring quaint, rhymed folk ditties, or a fairy tale featuring quaint, rhymed invocations. I've no idea how I got here, but I blame Twilight.

Which I finally watched, last night. I don't think it's possible to write anything new about the movie, and to just sum it up as "bad" seems completely beside the point. It was such a weird, disjointed creation. Definitely had that Harry Potter adaptation feel of trying to cram and stich together all these elements on a strict deadline, except without any... you know... action. The end credits took me completely by surprise (and were a total what the fuck of their own - who the hell chose that song?)

I genuinely tried to find the appeal, but I suppose I just didn't have the adolescent ovaries. I did like the cinematography. Well, ok: I liked the forest. The landscape shots. Seemed like a place I might want to live, or at least spend some time in.

Then again, I'm guessing they shot it in British Columbia, so that's not exactly news. I also liked some of the music, but my taste does have several glaring, gothic-skewing loopholes...

I could not, however, wrap my head around how remote the whole experience seemed to me. I felt like I was watching a film that was simultaneously its own, ready-made parody. The dialogue was so clunky and hollow at the same time. The girl's acting so... catatonic. She conveyed brain death with very limited means of expression (I swear, there was not a single line she did not either begin or end with a snort or an "um"), but maximum zeal. And then there was the creepy subtext of a mindless, infatuated drone clinging desperately to a guy who keeps saying - sometimes even jokingly - that he might physically hurt her. It all came together perfectly during the shitballs retarded Watch Me Glitter sequence, and the subsequent exchange:

E: I'm designed to kill.
B: I don't care.
E: I've killed before.
B: It doesn't matter.
E: I wanted to kill you. I've never wanted a human's blood so much in my life.
B: I trust you.
E: I try to play marbles with my ex-girlfriends' clitorises, but they're too squishy
B: I totally get that.

Ok, that last part might not have made it into the movie, but it really wouldn't look that out of place. Weird, weird thing.

What else... Ah. I'm madly in love with Jesse St. James. Not the pornstar. The fictional person who says stuff like "I picked the Stephen Sondheim biography section for our clandestine meeting place because only he would be able to express my melancholia." Now with video!

Over and out.

Data dump

Cayce puts the card facedown on the trestle table and signs its virgin back. Something seems to clunk heavily at the rear of her ethical universe.

---

[hilarious perfection]

Looking up now into the manically animated forest of signs, she sees the Coca-Colo logo pulsing on a huge screen, high up on a building, followed by the slogan "NO REASON!"

---

Curled in a body-warm cave of cotton broadcloth and terry, the remote in her hand, she unforgets her father's absence.

---

Cayce and the German designer will watch the towers burn, and eventually fall, and though she will know she must have seen people jumping, falling, there will be no memory of it.
It will be like watching one of her own dreams on television. Some vast and deeply personal insult to any ordinary notion of interiority.
An experience outside of culture.

---

"Thank you. Just a moment, please, while I find my key." Actually it's in the pocket of her Rickson's, ready to be palmed when needed, but she checks the bathroom, the closet, glances behind the black furniture, then notices a large gray carrier bag, with the Blue Ant logo on the side, at the foot of her bed. She kneels to look under the bed, discovers it isn't the kind you can look under, and comes up, still kneeling, with the key, a plastic mag-strip card, in her hand. "I've found it. Thank you very much."

---

[incomprehensible without background information, so you'll have to take my word that it's cool]

"Yes, it ends in .ru Observe the protocol H-B"

Baranov, emailing from the hyphen.

---

Her mother had once said that when the second plane hit, Win's chargin, his personal and professional mortification at this having happened, at the perimeter having been so easily, so terribly breached, would have been such that he might simply have ceased, in protest, to exist.

---

[and an absolutely brilliant conclusion to the story, snuck in by way of an e-mail message from a background character]

Prion now has some connection with a Russian yogurt drink that is about to launch here, purchased I think by the Japanese. I know because it is part of my briefing for work now, this drink. Also because he has it in a cooler at the gallery - revolting! I think he will try to serve it at the opening but absolutely NO! So mystery Internet movie is out, yogurt drink is in.

---

The ending wasn't exactly stellar, but it was a very enjoyable read nonetheless. Next up... The Graveyard Book, I guess.

Strings

Several things, mostly musical.

I've struggled with it for a very long time, but it seems inevitable - I am going to like the Katie Melua atrocity, even with its twee, miscast vocals and crazy transitions. I hear everything that's wrong with it, but at the same time I can't help but see what it could have been, given a better delivery and perhaps a stronger oriental motif. Sidenote #1: the uptempo part reminds me of this thing, which is surprising in that I had managed to completely erase it from memory. Or so I thought. Sidenote #2: amping the poor girl's vocals up to an operatic echo is just setting her up for failure during live performances. She simply does not have the pipes.

Next up: I found a new erogenous zone - classical renditions of pop tunes. Which is what a bunch of kids from the Sydney Conservatorium of Music are doing (though I'm sure they're not the first). Now, if you're a kid from Australia looking for a song that lends itself to a classical interpretation, chances are you're going to end up doing this. And good for you. This, however, seems much less obvious, and therefore all the more... well, fun. Sidenote #1: apparently it's very difficult to look badass while playing the kettle drums (if that's what they're called). Sidenote #2: the lady straddling the cello seems to have no such problem.

Finally, last Friday ao treated us to a musical flashback which included this:

Someone at io9 wrote that this song sounds like losing your virginity at the Rennaissance Faire - and by God, yes it does! But I also used to firmly believe that "To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny" is the most perfectly delivered lyric ever. Though I have to admit part of its charm laid in the fact I had no idea that's what it said. And omg Nicole Kidman was in Batman Whatever? Who knew?