bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
I got to hang out for most of the day in a video production studio, and felt no hesitation in asking the guys questions relevant to vidding. And work. But also vidding.

That was a great change of pace. But since the rest of my tasks had to be squeezed in afterwards, I got home almost three hours late. I'm doomed to miss fangirl Fridays forever.

Speaking of vidding, with two free weekends and Veterans Day on the horizon, my fannish goals are to work on either the SGA flashfic or the House WIP from like three years ago that has been late for as many Halloweens, or to work on the SGA vid-in-progress that has a Statement to Make. All gen.

It's been strange and wonderful and a little angsty lately as I slowly open myself up again to a wider variety of interests than I've let myself focus on the last couple of years because of work and school and new career. For example, poetry podcasts at Slate. There is Robert Pinsky -- once upon a time I could do a killer Pinsky impression -- reading an old favorite of mine, "Jubilate Agno," a poem so wonderfully weird that I'm breaking my "no cats on LJ" rule to recommend it to you now if you don't know it. I miss poetry so much.

ETA: And nobody told me that was the wrong link! Fixed now. It had linked to another neat article at Slate, about the Levi's commercials that've been using Whitman poems.

And I read Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried, finally. Beautiful and horrific, and messes with your head with its unresolved arguments about storytelling and truth and war and writing. Is what he wrote true? What is "true"? Does it matter? Why? Just don't read before bed, alone, in the dark, like I kept doing. The ghosts feel closer that way. Or actually, maybe that's the perfect way to do it.

Starting to watch movies again, too. TV has lately been good for stuff like New York City Serenade (Sebastian!) (dir. Frank Whaley, RSL's old buddy), Ordinary People, a documentary about Bon Jovi, and an Alien marathon. Now the nearby American Film Institute is having a European film festival, and I think I'll pick up some tickets. Any recommendations from the AFI calendar? (Euro are in blue.) I am thinking some combination of Piggies, Dragon, Parnassus, John Rabe, Infer, Disco, maybe Bluebeard or Ander.

Music, only a little. There aren't many radio stations in the area. At least at this new job you can stream radio, so I've been putting the classical station on quietly in the background. (Once upon a time, I thought of comparing fanfiction to radio, where gen was classical -- people keep thinking they don't think like it, but when they start listening to it, it's hard to go back to the other stuff -- darkfic was the heavy metal/alt rock stations, fluff was easy listening, meta was NPR or talk radio, and the everyday forgettable sort of average stories were the pop stations. And of course a ton of them are love songs.)

Anyway, took a walk down memory lane this week when Richard Shindell rolled into town(ish) on his annual fall tour. Fellow folk singer Antje Duvekot opened. I hadn't heard of her, nor had I heard of last year's opener, Caroline Herring, but from now on I'm trusting his taste because I enjoyed them both and loved at least one song from each ("Sex Bandaid" from Antje, which I sadly can't find on YouTube, and "Paper Gown" by Caroline).

Richard's show was maybe my least favorite of the times I've seen him, front-loaded on the new album and heavy with the more repetitive, blander stuff. Blander to me, anyway; those songs always get requested when he takes requests. He forgot lyrics more than usual, too. Still, he's always a pleasure to listen to. He did do "Mavis," and a punchy minor-chord rendition of the usually bluegrass "Waiting for the Storm" made the whole show worth it. If he'd recorded it that way, the song would be in my top ten. I wish I could find a recording of that version.

I know I've pushed his stuff on you before, but here is some more. Or rather, here is a lot of it again. hxxp:// (change the x's)

Zip contains: )

ETA: Oh, Dee, duh, I was going to include "Fishing," one of the great extended metaphors of modern folk. Says me.

Wow, this post took much longer to write than it should have.
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (geek willow)
Since it seems like many of us are anticipating ice or snow tonight, here is Richard Shindell's foot-tappin' Waiting for the Storm, even though that is about a hurricane. You can never have enough Richard Shindell.

Here in Boston we have been promised a few inches of snow. It's 14 degrees out; it'd better snow. Plowed piles from the last few storms' worth still haven't melted. The dirty tops have interesting, deep icy crusts.

Thankfully, it looks like the weather's gonna clear by Thursday when I fly. It'll be nice to take the trip, although I could use another week or three right now to do all my work. Caught a cold after my sister visited last week (no connection; she's fine) and lost a few days.

To have something for the flight, I picked up Neil deGrasse Tyson's new book tonight, (a) because I like him and (b) because he's doing a book signing nearby next month, so I may as well read it first. Disappointingly, it is for young people. The font is big and the pages glossy and there are a lot of pictures. Many of which are of Tyson. Including one on the back where he's straddling a large telescope and smirking. Wow.

Bill Nye wrote a blurb for it about "the first of the plutoids," pretty much recapitulating his line on SGA. Or maybe it was the other way around.

Stop me from having more thoughts of McKay/Tyson/Nye angry!sex, please. ...I would at least need an "I'm going to the special hell" icon.

On that note:

[Poll #1338836]

Mmrph. It was such a bad idea to stay up so late last night to write the Wilson/Cuddy thing. I only slept five hours afterwards. All I could handle this morning was fiddling around with PowerPoint for a presentation I have to give next week. Hm. Should I be juvenile and make a joke about how a box of parts sounds like S&M toys? (i.e. penetrators, switches, butt connectors, and of course nuts and screws.)
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
I was going to write tonight. Instead, here is some music for you by one of my favorite folk/rock/country singer-songwriters, Richard Shindell. This is the kind of stuff you're most likely to find in my CD/media player on any given day. His voice may not be to everyone's liking, being somewhat nasal along the lines of Gordon Lightfoot, but he's a damn clever songwriter, an excellent guitar player, and a sweet, humble, funny guy. Seriously, if you like any of this, go buy some of his albums; he's releasing them by himself these days, and could surely use the support.

Zip file contains: )

And plenty more where these came from, if this post goes over well.

Note: These files all came out as .wma instead of .mp3 (except "Fishing") because I wasn't paying attention and am too lazy to redo them. Let me know if you want to listen and can't open them in that format.

~ ~ ~

Randomly, here's a pair of songs by a rock band called The Exit off their CD "Home for an Island." If I were making a John Sheppard fanmix, these would be on the playlist. I'm not making a fanmix, though, because these would be the only songs on the playlist.

Zip file contains: )

ETA: Re-uploaded as mp3's with somewhat higher quality. These don't sound as good in my computer headphones as they do in my car, where I've been listening to them. *shrug*

~ ~ ~

You don't have to comment if you're downloading, but I'd very much like to know what you think of anything you listen to.

P.S. At long last, this journal now has the design I like in "front" and the plain Verdana-font layout on the "inside." That was on purpose, in case you're wondering. I've been getting itchy with the way the text got squished and crowded, especially for stories and poems. When you're reading your own journal in ?format=light, it's time to do something. :)
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
This post brought to you by OH MY GOD SHUT UP.

Seriously, people, how hard is it to BE QUIET during a movie or a concert? If you're that bored, go home. Don't stage-whisper through the whole performance/film so no one else can give it their full attention.

Thank you.

Sigh. My sister and I just got back from Drawing Restraint 9, the new Matthew Barney/Bjork art house film in which two Occidental Strangers board a Japanese whaling ship bedecked with a creepy petroleum jelly sculpture, get married and turn into whales. The trailer was better than the movie, but I still found it quite enjoyable; I loved how it took its time and filmed objects so close you could feel the textures, even the disgusting ones like when they sling what look like squid tentacles over the bride- and groom-to-be's naked bodies. There was a fetishistic quality to a lot of what went on, long rituals and shaving and bathing and costumes and animal skins and furs and tea preparation and biting each other's faces and pulling out a barbed quill from his forehead and cutting each other's legs off with flensing knives and eating each other's flesh, and the recurrence of that odd jelly-sculpture shape. It was quiet and patient and filled with vibrant, if not always easily interpreted, imagery, and Bjork's score was odd enough to complement it well.

However. These two women in the back -- we're not talking about a large theater here, maybe 10 rows of seats -- talked through the whole thing. It was bad enough that I (I!) got up, walked back and asked them politely but firmly to please keep it down. But a few minutes later they were rude enough to start back up again. Someone else shushed them later to no avail. *shakes head*

What do you do in a situation like that? Try once and let it drop? Turn around and say "Shh!" so they get the point, and risk creating a disruption of your own? Chalk it up to people being hopelessly inconsiderate and rent all your movies? Learn to just deal with it?

It used to be that people would either keep quiet (maybe that's a romantic recollection rather than reality) or talk at times when no one was speaking -- while a musician tunes, over the trailers or when there's a lapse in dialogue in a movie -- which I also can't stand, but at least you can hear the important parts. Is it me, or are people lately talking more and more -- right over conversations in movies, or through the end of the tuning into the musician's introduction and even his song (as with last night's concert)? Drawing Restraint 9 had dialogue in one scene. It was clearly a movie you were meant to sink into and listen to and watch. These women found that to be an invitation to speak constantly.

Anyway. Yesterday I brought my dad to see Richard Shindell again, which is always wonderful. He's a folk singer/guitarist from Long Island -- Richard Shindell, not my dad -- who married an Argentinian and now lives in that country with his wife and daughter, returning to his homeland about twice a year for short tours. His songs are just gorgeous, mostly folk-rock with an occasional Spanish flavor. Very relaxed, lots of minor keys, a nasal voice that's entirely forgiveable for the quality of his music and lyrics. I think he is my favorite singer now; as opposed to Alexi Murdoch, he creates beautiful, thoughtful music that's sad but doesn't descend into self-pity or angst, and he actually comes out with new albums. He did one of my favorite songs last night that I never thought he'd play, based on past concert experience, which was a very nice surprise, did a few lovely covers that will be appearing on his forthcoming album including "Senor (Tales of Yankee Power)" by Bob Dylan, and stripped down some of his peppier songs and jazzed up the quieter ones for a nice remix that didn't just sound like a live performance of the records. (He calls them "records.")

I was going to complain about people talking there, too, but the recollection of his songs is too pleasant to be disturbed. So there you have it.


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