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Cilantro Junkie
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If cilantro were a drug, I'd be both hopelessly addicted and unimaginably high right now. Also, the plant would undoubtedly cost more than 99 cents a bunch...
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Joel, my banjo-strummin' neighbor, and I drove over to Blue Ridge yesterday to see the 4:05 showing of Big Fish. About two hours later, we left the "dollar theater," marvelling over the remaining daylight and how cold it had gotten. And that was about all the marvelin' we could muster.
The film is entertaining, but it's also predictable (and reminded me of a guy's version of Fried Green Tomatoes). Tim Burton's visuals are compelling, but not stunning. The story is heart-rending, but not as awe-inspiring as something Ray Bradbury might have written years ago. Maybe I'm just being cynical, but after all the hype and praise I heard, I expected more. (If Ewan McGregor had powered up a light-saber and gutted the entire town of Sceptre, I might have been a little more enthusiastic about the movie.) Still, I don't feel like I wasted an afternoon and certainly not the buck fifty the ticket cost.
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Finished reading The Shining tonight. I have to admit that I've never -- up to this point -- given King the credit he deserves as a writer. While The Shining may not be great literature, it certainly is cult literature and has certainly earned its accolades and the Kubrick film it inspired. The book's characters are likeable, fairly believable, and historied, and it was tough seeing the four main characters facing King's overflowing tub of psychological and physical horrors. As a reader, I felt trapped in the Overlook Hotel alongside Jack, Wendy, and Danny, and consuming 75 to 100 pages in one sitting was easy. And necessary: I wanted to get out of the Colorado resort just as quickly as the protagonists.
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Books currently under the glass:
The Flickering Mind by Todd Oppenheimer
Writing Horror edited by Mort Castle, HWA
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Joel, my banjo-strummin' neighbor, and I drove over to Blue Ridge yesterday to see the 4:05 showing of Big Fish. About two hours later, we left the "dollar theater," marvelling over the remaining daylight and how cold it had gotten. And that was about all the marvelin' we could muster.
The film is entertaining, but it's also predictable (and reminded me of a guy's version of Fried Green Tomatoes). Tim Burton's visuals are compelling, but not stunning. The story is heart-rending, but not as awe-inspiring as something Ray Bradbury might have written years ago. Maybe I'm just being cynical, but after all the hype and praise I heard, I expected more. (If Ewan McGregor had powered up a light-saber and gutted the entire town of Sceptre, I might have been a little more enthusiastic about the movie.) Still, I don't feel like I wasted an afternoon and certainly not the buck fifty the ticket cost.
***
Finished reading The Shining tonight. I have to admit that I've never -- up to this point -- given King the credit he deserves as a writer. While The Shining may not be great literature, it certainly is cult literature and has certainly earned its accolades and the Kubrick film it inspired. The book's characters are likeable, fairly believable, and historied, and it was tough seeing the four main characters facing King's overflowing tub of psychological and physical horrors. As a reader, I felt trapped in the Overlook Hotel alongside Jack, Wendy, and Danny, and consuming 75 to 100 pages in one sitting was easy. And necessary: I wanted to get out of the Colorado resort just as quickly as the protagonists.
----------------
Books currently under the glass:
The Flickering Mind by Todd Oppenheimer
Writing Horror edited by Mort Castle, HWA
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