Chris Walsh (chris_walsh) wrote,
Chris Walsh
chris_walsh

Grab-bag

OK, it's me once more:

* Happy delivery tonight: I drove up to the UPS Swan Island depot after work and picked up an order from Subterranean Press. I now possess five more of their works:

* Joe R. Lansdale's alternate history Western parody Zeppelins West;
* Lansdale's followup, Flaming London (Captain Nemo and H.G. Wells, together again for the first time!);
* Poppy Z. Brite's Crown of Thorns – oh, so is that what gender Dr. Brite is?;
* Brite's Stubbs family story The Feast of St. Rosalie; and
* Mercury, care of Caitlin R. Kiernan, a story of Deacon from long before Threshold and the scary not-dogs, but after he knew of his distressingly useful ability.
All five books and chapbooks were (very briefly) on sale, which I jumped at (well, not literally), and now I have more books in line. Well, strictly speaking, more books in piles.

* Last night I listened to David Loftus recite Dr. Seuss works both famous and obscure for his March "Storytime for Adults," and watched with glee as one woman seemed in physical pain from listening to the tongue-twist-eriffic Fox in Socks. She pulled a shawl over her head and put her head on the table and tried not to groan. Never mind "Now is your tongue numb?": was her brain numb?

Next month Loftus recites Harlan Ellison. I suggested maybe he should read "Ecowareness," a real quick punchy bitch-slap of a tale, the one that ends "Now isn't that a nice story. And fuck you, too." Ah, the glory of Ellisonian profanity (doesn't that sound almost elegant?).

* Bubble wrap! Bubble wrap! Bubble wrap!

*pop* *pop pop" *popopopopopopopopopopopop* *popopop* *pop*

Heh.

* I may have told you once upon a time that, based on what I respond to in women – where often I like the girls the other girls like, shall we say – one of these days I'd fall for a lesbian.

I wonder if that's sorta kinda slightly happened.

Heh again. ;-) (And no, it's not anyone who reads this.)

* The Oscars: It couldn't match the beauty of the ceremony for the films of '91, which might be the closest to Oscar perfection I've seen (the Palance running jokes! All the Silence wins! Jonathan Demme so delighfully flummoxed by winning Best Director that he stammered and giggled for 3 minutes thirty-four seconds! I still have highlights on tape, y'all...), and I thought a lot of this show was awkward and didn't flow very well, but...

...I think Jon Stewart realized at some point that hey, he doesn't have to have a Hollywood career again, so then he loosened up and stopped playing it safe, despite the apparent chill from much of the L.A. audience for what Randy Newman's Redneck would call "some smartass New York Jew." Stewart was more biting and cutting well into the show than during the opening monologue. (The filmed skit with the former hosts, Halle Berry, George Clooney, and the Mayan-speaking Mel Gibson, though, was gold. Beyond money, baby: GOLD.)

He got in a needed dig when, following the montage of films tackling big social issues, Stewart said "And none of those issues were ever a problem again." And I roared at the gay cowboy montage and the fake lobbying ads.

As for the winners, I feel...okay. No real triumphs for me, no huge disappointments, except I was rooting for Felicity Huffman over Reese Witherspoon. I haven't seen any of the Best Picture nominees. My shame is...oh, no shame, really. But yeah, I'm glad for Philip Seymour Hoffman winning, and for Robert Altman putting that new heart to good use (my god), and for Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana getting acknowledged for Oscar-worthy work, and even for Hustle and Flow's "Pimp" song, 'cause that song's so important to that movie; there wouldn't be a movie without it. And I thought the song was actually kind of interesting.

* Biggest laugh of Sunday night? My first-ever viewing of "Heat Vision and Jack," thanks to Dawn after the Oscars. Genius! Jack Black as the world's smartest man! Owen Wilson as a living motorcycle! Ron Silver as the world's most evil Ron Silver! Thank you everyone who worked on that and, apparently, took healthy swigs of Wack Juice before working on it, 'cause dude, that's messed up. In a beautiful way.
Tags: books, film reviews, harlan, portland
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