When I was in high school, I was pretty ambivalent about the future. I went to three different high schools so I tended to live day by day, not really believing I was in control of whatever came next (there was no evidence of it). I had a lot of passions and creativity, but I didn't know what I should do. When it came time to look up colleges, it was already pretty late in the application game, and I remember turning on the computer to devote a few minutes to searching for schools just in order to check it off my parents' to-do list. It was not a big priority. I was consumed by things like the new school and town I'd just moved to, the new friends I was loving spending time with and hoping they liked spending time with me, and crushes, of course. So I looked up colleges that met two criteria: they were in a city and had a good writing or journalism program.
A couple of my high school English teachers had pulled me aside and let me know that I was pretty good at writing... my papers got As and I did love reading. But I was also one of those people that got As in most classes, even ones I despised like Algebra and Chemistry. So I more or less shrugged it off and smiled and said thank you and went on to more pressing matters like making sure I had time to check my locker mirror before the next class because there might be something caught in my braces. When I moved to Pennsylvania my senior year of high school, just a week or two before classes started, I met with a counselor to enroll in classes and she said they kept an opening in their journalism elective which managed the school newspaper for military kids joining late (that was me!). None of the other electives appealed to me, so I said sure. Again, I didn't choose it because I felt it was My Path or anything. All I knew was that some old people thought I was good at writing. My parents said so, too, but y'know, parents have to say that.
By the time I got to college in Boston, I was extremely excited for many reasons, mainly being on my own for the first time and navigating various social activities like parties. And, sure, class, too. Yet, when classes started something unexpected happened. I was, perhaps, finally challenged in a way that I knew I had to pay attention. And my classes about the humanities and arts and writing were inspiring me and staying with me beyond the lectures and required reading. I couldn't care less about that science requirement I had to take, but I was pretty excited to write papers suddenly. Be it an analysis of themes in Rear Window or the misogyny of old fairy tales and new ones. I liked writing, a lot more than I thought I did. It always seemed more of a hobby than anything professional... I'd always kept a diary, always had a notebook handy for my dramatic renderings of adolescence or fictional stories (coincidentally, most of them had a protagonist who was a perpetual new girl in high school). Much of those long road trips moving across the United States or plane trips to Panama were spent in my head conjuring stories from a parallel universe. All the questions I asked everyone was a habit drawn from moving and trying to adapt as quickly as possible; some people found it annoying and others advised it was probably a good trait to have as a journalist. In college, it all started to make sense.
After graduation, a gloom descended when I realized there weren't a lot of publications paying well (or even at all) at entry level. I moved to a new city with interviews, but would not have been able to pay for rent and food (nevermind everything else) with the quoted salaries. The coveted positions usually went to the more fortunate, and I ended up temping for a fashion company, which led to a decent-paying permanent position--one that I still have today.
Yet, over the last ten years since I graduated college, I never gave up on the writing. I did some freelancing at first, but that didn't keep my attention. I wrote stories and kept up a blog as a creative outlet. In the last few years I met some women that were also writers and we were able to share our works in groups and pairs. I never really sought out publication or tried to submit my work anywhere though some friends prodded me to. Last year I felt a resurgence of inspiration after attending some meet-ups with other writers, and felt compelled to really get to this novel idea I'd been treading on for some months. I finally started writing it out, thanks to many women who cheered me on. One of them, a certain Beca Grimm (we had a total meet-cute in the lobby of our Bushwick apartment building and realized a shared passion for yoga and writing), was recently asked to guest curate an issue for online publication Storychord. She remembered a story I had shared a few years ago, and asked me to submit. I was a little nervous, my anxiety manifesting as it usually does when I reread old works, but I edited it as best I could and yesterday she ran it. It's my first piece of published fiction, and I'm honored that it's on a great site like Storychord (I'd thought for years of submitting to it), was chosen by an illustrious journalist in her own right, and is accompanied by two pieces of art by incredibly talented women, Ally White and Cassandra Jenkins.
So here it is: TEN YEARS FROM TODAY by Jessica Maria Johnson
Yes, this whole long post that got really introspective was just to tell you that I have a short story up now on Storychord.com. THANKS FOR READING, AS EVER.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
And now for something a little different.
I'm trying out a new platform called TinyLetter to send out monthly dispatches on my goings-on. I probably won't make the archives public, so subscribe if you'd like to keep up. My first letter will be going out today, April 15th.
Saturday, January 31, 2015
My Top Films of 2014.
Spending the end of 2014 packing up my life and moving across the country and then unpacking for the last month was not conducive to being timely about my annual Top Films post! But here we are, and hopefully I can press publish before we hit February. While I lagged a bit in written updates, I definitely saw a lot of movies in 2014. Jesse remarked a few weeks ago that he actually saw more movies in 2014 than any other year because he finally gave in to my every film-going whim and said yes when I invited him. It was a grand time to see a lot of movies with my husband; in years past I certainly saw more movies alone. I am smiling big right now -- I feel like something has been conquered! And it's a good thing that lot of the movies I dragged Jesse to were pretty good.
And so, I unveil, my favorite movies of 2014... as it exists today, subject to different order or whims of mood on other days -- but the beginning of this list is pretty solid.
01 BOYHOOD
Linklater strikes again for the second year in a row! I wasn't sure what to expect with Boyhood; when the film began I was like why is this is starting out with Coldplay's "Yellow"? And then I was taken back to when I first heard that song... twelve years ago. And then: I understood. As the movie unfolded, following a family and their world through the eyes of their son Mason, I was mesmerized by the way in which the director/writer Linklater and the actors were able to create--more than anything--an immersive feeling. It's definitely part nostalgia because there was a lot I recognized (the big sister/little brother dynamic to name one). The story is simple, but the way in which Linklater filmed the movie (aside from the once-a-year-for-12-years thing) evoked such a quietly thrilling perspective on a childhood journey. I saw it twice in theaters, and the first time I was lucky enough to meet Richard Linklater and the main actor, Ellar Coltrane. I might have known then, back in July, that it would be the best film I saw this year.
02 WHIPLASH
This movie surprised me. As I was putting together this list I was surprised that it came in at #2. But, the best films I saw this year provoked emotional reactions from me. Whiplash not only hit me emotionally, but physically as well. Seeing this film on the big screen, with the music almost another character between the two main characters (played superbly by J.K. Simmons and Miles Teller -- an actor whose hype I never understood until this film), the tension on screen froze up my body as well. When the lights went on in the theater, I let out a breath I must have been holding without realizing. An excellent script, fascinating directing, and good acting. A solid, great movie... if you must watch it at home, watch it with the volume loud.
03 UNDER THE SKIN
A beautiful, eerie, dark film that captivated me from the start. A somewhat silent film that still told a story, at once otherworldly and yet recognizable. It was uncomfortable, mostly, but enthralling. I like having to pick up the clues in a film to understand what's happening; my brain was churning through this whole viewing. The end culminates into a tableau of alien horror--based in a true, familiar, sad reality. The incredible visuals elevate the story to an even higher plane.
04 SELMA
I'm not one for biopics; I've always been more of a fan of fiction and creative storytelling as opposed to depicting fact -- mostly, I'd like to leave it to documentaries. Trust me, no Hollywood film based on a true story is going to get every fact correct. Fellow true story Academy Award nominees American Sniper, The Imitation Game, Theory of Everything, Foxcatcher -- all have "fact" issues. Let's also talk about facts -- how a different perspective sees facts differently (it took a show like The Affair to really demonstrate that outrightly) -- and how Selma is from a perspective most films don't show, it's a familiar story told from someone else's valid perspective. Hurrah for that perspective! The predictability and remake barrage has bored me in the theaters; Selma told a great story freshly, and well. And the LBJ historical critics? The film is more than fair to his legacy, I didn't understand it's criticisms as I watched. As written in the New Yorker in defense of this film: "Indeed, there is no moment in “Selma” where King really thanks Johnson or, Hollywood-style, puts his hand on his shoulder and tells him, “You’re a good man.” If that’s what the “Selma” critics crave, there are plenty of movies that offer it." It's just stunning to me that this is the film being attacked; it's a great film. The acting, the script, the directing are superb. As a woman, it's truly amazing and stupefying to make realizations mid-film like "wow, I'm watching more than one scene of two women speaking to each other." That's because the film was directed by a woman. And that's why it's important: representation and balance on many, many levels. Ava DuVernay is a gifted director, and I look forward to more of her work. As the film ends with a speech by the extremely talented David Oyelowo as Martin Luther King, Jr., there's a point that the crowd in the film begins to clap, and I was jolted as many people in the theater erupted into applause as well. I couldn't help but agree.
05 THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL
Wes Anderson, usually an acquired taste, seemed to have hit something this year with audiences -- was it the ending? Either way, I'm glad more people are on board. I mean, a Wes Anderson film is nominated for an Academy Award?! What! But it's a great film, a movie that retains Anderson's style and whimsy and humor with punctuations of disturbing darkness -- so colorful, and yet -- that ending. The directorial effort on display, the camerawork, set design, and images are all wonderful. I've never liked Ralph Fiennes as much, it was just a perfectly played role. I was excited by this film (saw it twice in theaters) and I've never been more excited for what Anderson has planned next.
06 ONLY LOVERS LEFT ALIVE
Under the guise of treating my husband to a special event by one of his favorite directors, I bought tickets to a screening of Only Lovers Left Alive that included a post-film concert of the soundtrack live. Jesse loves Jim Jarmusch--Dead Man is his favorite film of all time--and I thought, hey, maybe Tom Hiddleston will show up? Two birds, one stone, you know what I mean? Sadly, Hiddleston did not, but we watched with Jarmusch a few rows behind us. I'm smiling as I type this because it really was a fantastic night: the entire Sunshine Theater in New York was booked for Only Lovers, decorated and dimmed, eerie music playing as we waited for the film to begin. And what a film! Gothic and beautiful and TILDA and funny and me thinking, huh, this is really Jarmusch? It's, in my opinion, his most accessible film. I played the soundtrack on loop for months afterwards--those guitars!--and perhaps that was because we saw that soundtrack played live amongst sets reconstructed from the film??
I don't know what PR firm handled that event, but that's how you promote a film--centering every detail to recall the film, and make it memorable. The film itself was perfect for the treatment given the acting, the directing, but also the essential music.
07 WILD
Here's a film I was excited for because I read the book -- and I was happy that Cheryl Strayed's flawed, beautiful, persevering spirit was captured so well by Reese Witherspoon and the movie. Most of the moments in the book are depicted similarly, there are many passages in the book I read and felt so visceral and gut-punching, and the film accomplished that as well. Though there were parts that made me nearly look away from the page (something that's not happened very often while reading anything), the film managed to sliver them in, and I liked the way the film's script and directing handled Strayed's small but engrossing story.
08 SNOWPIERCER
Yeah, this movie has its flaws and some weird special effects, but damn if it isn't a great ride of a film. It's a spectacle in the best way -- with twists and turns that kept me guessing, and I love not knowing what's about to happen in a movie these days. Chris Evans impressed me most here than any other work he's done, and the cast of characters, dystopian story, and jumble of metaphors provided a lot of fun for the viewer. I thoroughly enjoyed watching this movie from beginning to end.
09 BELLE
Here's a true story that's never been told on the screen! And despite earlier protests in this post, I really just loved this movie because of it's heartache and uplift, for its superb acting in Gugu Mbatha-Raw (she will win an Academy Award one day -- she should have been nominated for this), and for its sweeping period directing (I really, truly, love sweeping period films. LOVE THEM). Another film that depicts a time in the past, that still attests to the issues we face in the present. (And like Selma, it also co-stars Tom Wilkinson? And was directed by a woman!)
10 BEGIN AGAIN
Woah woah woah left field, right?! I mean, I wanted to put 22 Jump Street here (that's not really a joke) but this one came in late and under the radar at the tail end of 2014. And wow! I remember loving Once, and when I started this movie I had no idea it was by the same filmmaker. I had heard mere blips about this movie. Nobody was like: Hey, Jessica, you might like this, it's got good music and heartfelt storylines and wonderfully rendered characters that don't fall into gender tropes -- so, this is me telling you: watch this movie. (You know who did recommend it to me? Jesse's dad! My father-in-law suggested this film!) Keira Knightley and Mark Ruffalo are grand. Adam Levine is also in this movie, but he's not as grating as I expected. And the soundtrack is on repeat -- did you hear the featured song in the film "Lost Stars" is nominated for Best Original Song at the Oscars? -- little did I know Keira Knightley could sing in that singer-songwriter style I love. The emo girl in my heart, she was satisfied.
+
HONORABLE MENTIONS (that probably, given my mood, could have made my Top Ten -- 2014 was a *#$&!& great year in movies in my opinion)
WE ARE THE BEST! - currently streaming on Netflix, this Swedish film about a trio of pre-teen girls who start a punk band made me smile with glee. Punctuation point! Similar to Boyhood, there's something recognizable about watching these girls' journey in adolescence.
IDA - a black and white Polish film that searched down corridors I was not expecting. Awe-some.
22 JUMP STREET - if you know me, you know why. Best comedy of the year. Channing Tatum 4 Lyfe. Something Cool.
THE EDGE OF TOMORROW - on the insistence of one of my best friends, I relented and watched this Tom Cruise flick, and then watched it again the next night (he may or may not have gifted me the movie on iTunes for my birthday). This is a GREAT movie. Tom Cruise, yet again, proves why he's a great star and actor. Emily Blunt, you rule. I had one minor quibble, but other than that: spectacular.
GONE GIRL - one of my favorite theater-going experiences on opening night. You could almost hear the difference between the people who had read the book against the shocked waves of those who hadn't. There's some mishandling of the material, but I love watching that dark, brooding Fincher directing, unapologetically.
BIRDMAN - spectacle, spectacle, not GREAT, but damn good. A little too clever, perhaps? The cinematography shines above all else.
BLUE RUIN - WHAT IS THIS AMAZING MOVIE? It's streaming on Netflix right now and I urge you to watch it immediately. Jesse and I were -- I'm about to use this word -- gobsmacked as we watched. I won't even mention anything about it, just watch it.
GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY - because it was the most entertaining film I saw all year.
THE ONE I LOVE - SCRIPT. Low budget science fiction might be my favorite screen spectacle; I loved that this is essentially sci-fi but more grandly about human romantic relationships. A more cynical Eternal Sunshine, but worth the ride all the same. Plus, Moss + Duplass! And though I love low-budget sci-fi there's still something about...
INTERSTELLAR - I didn't even know if I liked this movie upon first viewing. But after several conversations (SEVERAL!) and me watching myself slowly to fervently start defending it, I really love that there's a director like Nolan out there who gets the big bucks to tell unpredictable stories in IMAX.
+
OH YOU WERE VERY GOOD, TOO
THE GUEST
LOVE IS STRANGE
OBVIOUS CHILD
FRANK
THE DROP
X-MEN: DAYS OF FUTURE PAST
THE IMITATION GAME
CHEF
VERONICA MARS
THEY CAME TOGETHER
NEIGHBORS
MALEFICENT
+
I MEAN, OKAY? BUT I EXPECTED MORE FROM YOU!
INHERENT VICE
LUCY
FOXCATCHER
HUNGER GAMES: CATCHING FIRE
GODZILLA
+
MEH
CAPTAIN AMERICA: WINTER SOLDIER
THIS IS WHERE I LEAVE YOU
BIG EYES
THE THEORY OF EVERYTHING
THE JUDGE
SPIDERMAN 2
AMERICAN SNIPER
+
#NOPE
NOAH
THAT AWKWARD MOMENT
DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES
+
And now, your thoughts! What were your favorites?? What did I miss? I have a list of films still to see -- Nightcrawler, The Babadook, Two Days One Night among them.
Some of my past top film posts: 2007 | 2008 | 2009 | 2010 | 2011 | 2012 | 2013
And so, I unveil, my favorite movies of 2014... as it exists today, subject to different order or whims of mood on other days -- but the beginning of this list is pretty solid.
01 BOYHOOD
Linklater strikes again for the second year in a row! I wasn't sure what to expect with Boyhood; when the film began I was like why is this is starting out with Coldplay's "Yellow"? And then I was taken back to when I first heard that song... twelve years ago. And then: I understood. As the movie unfolded, following a family and their world through the eyes of their son Mason, I was mesmerized by the way in which the director/writer Linklater and the actors were able to create--more than anything--an immersive feeling. It's definitely part nostalgia because there was a lot I recognized (the big sister/little brother dynamic to name one). The story is simple, but the way in which Linklater filmed the movie (aside from the once-a-year-for-12-years thing) evoked such a quietly thrilling perspective on a childhood journey. I saw it twice in theaters, and the first time I was lucky enough to meet Richard Linklater and the main actor, Ellar Coltrane. I might have known then, back in July, that it would be the best film I saw this year.
02 WHIPLASH
This movie surprised me. As I was putting together this list I was surprised that it came in at #2. But, the best films I saw this year provoked emotional reactions from me. Whiplash not only hit me emotionally, but physically as well. Seeing this film on the big screen, with the music almost another character between the two main characters (played superbly by J.K. Simmons and Miles Teller -- an actor whose hype I never understood until this film), the tension on screen froze up my body as well. When the lights went on in the theater, I let out a breath I must have been holding without realizing. An excellent script, fascinating directing, and good acting. A solid, great movie... if you must watch it at home, watch it with the volume loud.
03 UNDER THE SKIN
A beautiful, eerie, dark film that captivated me from the start. A somewhat silent film that still told a story, at once otherworldly and yet recognizable. It was uncomfortable, mostly, but enthralling. I like having to pick up the clues in a film to understand what's happening; my brain was churning through this whole viewing. The end culminates into a tableau of alien horror--based in a true, familiar, sad reality. The incredible visuals elevate the story to an even higher plane.
04 SELMA
I'm not one for biopics; I've always been more of a fan of fiction and creative storytelling as opposed to depicting fact -- mostly, I'd like to leave it to documentaries. Trust me, no Hollywood film based on a true story is going to get every fact correct. Fellow true story Academy Award nominees American Sniper, The Imitation Game, Theory of Everything, Foxcatcher -- all have "fact" issues. Let's also talk about facts -- how a different perspective sees facts differently (it took a show like The Affair to really demonstrate that outrightly) -- and how Selma is from a perspective most films don't show, it's a familiar story told from someone else's valid perspective. Hurrah for that perspective! The predictability and remake barrage has bored me in the theaters; Selma told a great story freshly, and well. And the LBJ historical critics? The film is more than fair to his legacy, I didn't understand it's criticisms as I watched. As written in the New Yorker in defense of this film: "Indeed, there is no moment in “Selma” where King really thanks Johnson or, Hollywood-style, puts his hand on his shoulder and tells him, “You’re a good man.” If that’s what the “Selma” critics crave, there are plenty of movies that offer it." It's just stunning to me that this is the film being attacked; it's a great film. The acting, the script, the directing are superb. As a woman, it's truly amazing and stupefying to make realizations mid-film like "wow, I'm watching more than one scene of two women speaking to each other." That's because the film was directed by a woman. And that's why it's important: representation and balance on many, many levels. Ava DuVernay is a gifted director, and I look forward to more of her work. As the film ends with a speech by the extremely talented David Oyelowo as Martin Luther King, Jr., there's a point that the crowd in the film begins to clap, and I was jolted as many people in the theater erupted into applause as well. I couldn't help but agree.
05 THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL
Wes Anderson, usually an acquired taste, seemed to have hit something this year with audiences -- was it the ending? Either way, I'm glad more people are on board. I mean, a Wes Anderson film is nominated for an Academy Award?! What! But it's a great film, a movie that retains Anderson's style and whimsy and humor with punctuations of disturbing darkness -- so colorful, and yet -- that ending. The directorial effort on display, the camerawork, set design, and images are all wonderful. I've never liked Ralph Fiennes as much, it was just a perfectly played role. I was excited by this film (saw it twice in theaters) and I've never been more excited for what Anderson has planned next.
06 ONLY LOVERS LEFT ALIVE
Under the guise of treating my husband to a special event by one of his favorite directors, I bought tickets to a screening of Only Lovers Left Alive that included a post-film concert of the soundtrack live. Jesse loves Jim Jarmusch--Dead Man is his favorite film of all time--and I thought, hey, maybe Tom Hiddleston will show up? Two birds, one stone, you know what I mean? Sadly, Hiddleston did not, but we watched with Jarmusch a few rows behind us. I'm smiling as I type this because it really was a fantastic night: the entire Sunshine Theater in New York was booked for Only Lovers, decorated and dimmed, eerie music playing as we waited for the film to begin. And what a film! Gothic and beautiful and TILDA and funny and me thinking, huh, this is really Jarmusch? It's, in my opinion, his most accessible film. I played the soundtrack on loop for months afterwards--those guitars!--and perhaps that was because we saw that soundtrack played live amongst sets reconstructed from the film??
 |
| Me in Adam's studio |
07 WILD
Here's a film I was excited for because I read the book -- and I was happy that Cheryl Strayed's flawed, beautiful, persevering spirit was captured so well by Reese Witherspoon and the movie. Most of the moments in the book are depicted similarly, there are many passages in the book I read and felt so visceral and gut-punching, and the film accomplished that as well. Though there were parts that made me nearly look away from the page (something that's not happened very often while reading anything), the film managed to sliver them in, and I liked the way the film's script and directing handled Strayed's small but engrossing story.
08 SNOWPIERCER
Yeah, this movie has its flaws and some weird special effects, but damn if it isn't a great ride of a film. It's a spectacle in the best way -- with twists and turns that kept me guessing, and I love not knowing what's about to happen in a movie these days. Chris Evans impressed me most here than any other work he's done, and the cast of characters, dystopian story, and jumble of metaphors provided a lot of fun for the viewer. I thoroughly enjoyed watching this movie from beginning to end.
09 BELLE
Here's a true story that's never been told on the screen! And despite earlier protests in this post, I really just loved this movie because of it's heartache and uplift, for its superb acting in Gugu Mbatha-Raw (she will win an Academy Award one day -- she should have been nominated for this), and for its sweeping period directing (I really, truly, love sweeping period films. LOVE THEM). Another film that depicts a time in the past, that still attests to the issues we face in the present. (And like Selma, it also co-stars Tom Wilkinson? And was directed by a woman!)
10 BEGIN AGAIN
Woah woah woah left field, right?! I mean, I wanted to put 22 Jump Street here (that's not really a joke) but this one came in late and under the radar at the tail end of 2014. And wow! I remember loving Once, and when I started this movie I had no idea it was by the same filmmaker. I had heard mere blips about this movie. Nobody was like: Hey, Jessica, you might like this, it's got good music and heartfelt storylines and wonderfully rendered characters that don't fall into gender tropes -- so, this is me telling you: watch this movie. (You know who did recommend it to me? Jesse's dad! My father-in-law suggested this film!) Keira Knightley and Mark Ruffalo are grand. Adam Levine is also in this movie, but he's not as grating as I expected. And the soundtrack is on repeat -- did you hear the featured song in the film "Lost Stars" is nominated for Best Original Song at the Oscars? -- little did I know Keira Knightley could sing in that singer-songwriter style I love. The emo girl in my heart, she was satisfied.
+
HONORABLE MENTIONS (that probably, given my mood, could have made my Top Ten -- 2014 was a *#$&!& great year in movies in my opinion)
WE ARE THE BEST! - currently streaming on Netflix, this Swedish film about a trio of pre-teen girls who start a punk band made me smile with glee. Punctuation point! Similar to Boyhood, there's something recognizable about watching these girls' journey in adolescence.
IDA - a black and white Polish film that searched down corridors I was not expecting. Awe-some.
22 JUMP STREET - if you know me, you know why. Best comedy of the year. Channing Tatum 4 Lyfe. Something Cool.
THE EDGE OF TOMORROW - on the insistence of one of my best friends, I relented and watched this Tom Cruise flick, and then watched it again the next night (he may or may not have gifted me the movie on iTunes for my birthday). This is a GREAT movie. Tom Cruise, yet again, proves why he's a great star and actor. Emily Blunt, you rule. I had one minor quibble, but other than that: spectacular.
GONE GIRL - one of my favorite theater-going experiences on opening night. You could almost hear the difference between the people who had read the book against the shocked waves of those who hadn't. There's some mishandling of the material, but I love watching that dark, brooding Fincher directing, unapologetically.
BIRDMAN - spectacle, spectacle, not GREAT, but damn good. A little too clever, perhaps? The cinematography shines above all else.
BLUE RUIN - WHAT IS THIS AMAZING MOVIE? It's streaming on Netflix right now and I urge you to watch it immediately. Jesse and I were -- I'm about to use this word -- gobsmacked as we watched. I won't even mention anything about it, just watch it.
GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY - because it was the most entertaining film I saw all year.
THE ONE I LOVE - SCRIPT. Low budget science fiction might be my favorite screen spectacle; I loved that this is essentially sci-fi but more grandly about human romantic relationships. A more cynical Eternal Sunshine, but worth the ride all the same. Plus, Moss + Duplass! And though I love low-budget sci-fi there's still something about...
INTERSTELLAR - I didn't even know if I liked this movie upon first viewing. But after several conversations (SEVERAL!) and me watching myself slowly to fervently start defending it, I really love that there's a director like Nolan out there who gets the big bucks to tell unpredictable stories in IMAX.
+
OH YOU WERE VERY GOOD, TOO
THE GUEST
LOVE IS STRANGE
OBVIOUS CHILD
FRANK
THE DROP
X-MEN: DAYS OF FUTURE PAST
THE IMITATION GAME
CHEF
VERONICA MARS
THEY CAME TOGETHER
NEIGHBORS
MALEFICENT
+
I MEAN, OKAY? BUT I EXPECTED MORE FROM YOU!
INHERENT VICE
LUCY
FOXCATCHER
HUNGER GAMES: CATCHING FIRE
GODZILLA
+
MEH
CAPTAIN AMERICA: WINTER SOLDIER
THIS IS WHERE I LEAVE YOU
BIG EYES
THE THEORY OF EVERYTHING
THE JUDGE
SPIDERMAN 2
AMERICAN SNIPER
+
#NOPE
NOAH
THAT AWKWARD MOMENT
DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES
+
And now, your thoughts! What were your favorites?? What did I miss? I have a list of films still to see -- Nightcrawler, The Babadook, Two Days One Night among them.
Some of my past top film posts: 2007 | 2008 | 2009 | 2010 | 2011 | 2012 | 2013
Monday, January 26, 2015
My Year in Books: 2014.
Ever since I challenged myself in 2009 to read 52 books in the year, I established some good reading habits to keep up the momentum. I've relaxed on the challenge aspect of reading, since I don't want to deter from reading longer books just because they may take more time.
This year I managed to read 42 books. It was an inspiring year in reading; I discovered a lot of writers partly because I was seeking out original voices and going to book readings in Brooklyn, and partly because I joined a couple of literary groups. I met people in those groups and followed them on social media and heard of a lot of new writers; some of them were even writers themselves.
Here are the the books I read this year in chronological order, the star rating I gave them on Goodreads, and those that are bold became all-time favorite books of mine.
01 The Best American Magazine Writing 2013, ASME *****
02 Powers, Vol 1: Who Killed Retro Girl?, Brian Michael Bendis ***** (re-read)
03 Like Life, Lorrie Moore ****
04 A Story Lately Told, Anjelica Huston ****
05 1800 Miles to Nowhere, Brian Diaz ***
06 Salvador, Joan Didion ****
07 Ms. Marvel, No 1, Willow G. Wilson *****
08 S., J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst ***
09 The Luminaries, Eleanor Catton *****
10 Disgrace, J.M. Coatzee *
11 The Last Thing He Wanted, Joan Didion ****
12 Songs for the Missing, Stewart O'Nan **
13 After Henry, Joan Didion ****
14 The Yellow King and Other Stories, Robert W. Chambers ***
15 Swimming, Joanna Hershon ****
16 The Thousand-Dollar Tan Line, Rob Thomas and Jennifer Graham ****
17 Powers, Vol 2: Roleplay, Brian Michael Bendis ***
18 Powers, Vol 3: Little Deaths, Brian Michael Bendis ***
19 Powers, Vol 4: Supergroup, Brian Michael Bendis *****
20 Powers, Vol 5: Anarchy, Brian Michael Bendis ****
21 The Book of Unknown Americans, Cristina Henriquez *****
22 Powers, Vol 6: The Sellouts, Brian Michael Bendis ****
23 Powers, Vol 7: Forever, Brian Michael Bendis *****
24 Powers, Vol 8: Legends, Brian Michael Bendis ****
25 Powers, Vol 9: Psychotic, Brian Michael Bendis ****
26 Powers, Vol 10: Cosmic, Brian Michael Bendis ***
27 Powers, Vol 11: Secret Identity, Brian Michael Bendis ****
28 The Most Dangerous Animal of All, Gary L. Stewart and Susan D. Mustafa **
29 Cutting Teeth, Julia Fierro *****
30 Goodbye to All That: Writers on Loving and Leaving New York, ed. Sari Botton ****
31 The Woman Upstairs, Claire Messud ****
32 Friendship, Emily Gould ****
33 Wild, Cheryl Strayed *****
34 Middlemarch, George Eliot ****
35 Bad Feminist, Roxane Gay *****
36 Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie ****
37 Nightwood, Djuna Barnes ****
38 All the Roads That Lead From Home, Anne Leigh Parrish ****
39 NW, Zadie Smith ***
40 A Million Miles, Amy Fleisher Madden *****
41 Station Eleven, Emily St. John Mandel *****
42 Tiny Beautiful Things, Cheryl Strayed *****
Like I said, it was an inspiring year in reading. One of my favorite new authors, Roxane Gay, who wrote Bad Feminist, had a fun superlative-y way of of recounting her year in reading -- here's me trying to do the same...
My favorite book of the year, and perhaps the last decade--a novel in which I saw myself and my mother and the important stories of of those who rarely have their voices heard: The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez
My second favorite book of the year, because when one becomes inundated with apocalyptic premises, this one will sneak up on your and make you realize the beauty in your own world: Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel
A book dear to my heart that fills me with pride in my friend and honor to have been asked to edit it as it headed towards publication: A Million Miles by Amy Fleisher Madden
Examples of well-written novels that are great reads without having a "relatable" protagonist to root for (something I despise when people evaluate a story): Cutting Teeth by Julia Fierro, The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud
Example of a not-so-well-written true story with a narrator you're supposed to like but by the end you kind of hate and you were glad when you got some money for it when you traded it in before moving across the country because c'mon, not even a DNA test?: The Most Dangerous Animal of All by Gary L. Stewart (who believes his father was the Zodiac)
She wrote how many pages at what age and won what award what am I doing with my life this is amazing!?: The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton
Book I tried because of its Celebrated Author but became confused as to why it was any good at all: Disgrace by J.M. Coatzee
Now understand why this marvel is a classic: Middlemarch by George Eliot
Book that started out like watching the pilot episode of LOST and then became the final season of LOST and just...uh...lost me: S by J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst
Short stories that stayed with me for such a long time I had to take breaks between reading the next story: All the Roads That Lead From Home by Anne Leigh Parrish
Cannot wait for the movie because LUPITA: Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Books that made me cry in public: Wild and Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed, The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez, Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay
What was the best thing you read in 2014?
Previously: 2009 | 2012 | 2013
This year I managed to read 42 books. It was an inspiring year in reading; I discovered a lot of writers partly because I was seeking out original voices and going to book readings in Brooklyn, and partly because I joined a couple of literary groups. I met people in those groups and followed them on social media and heard of a lot of new writers; some of them were even writers themselves.
Here are the the books I read this year in chronological order, the star rating I gave them on Goodreads, and those that are bold became all-time favorite books of mine.
01 The Best American Magazine Writing 2013, ASME *****
02 Powers, Vol 1: Who Killed Retro Girl?, Brian Michael Bendis ***** (re-read)
03 Like Life, Lorrie Moore ****
04 A Story Lately Told, Anjelica Huston ****
05 1800 Miles to Nowhere, Brian Diaz ***
06 Salvador, Joan Didion ****
07 Ms. Marvel, No 1, Willow G. Wilson *****
08 S., J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst ***
09 The Luminaries, Eleanor Catton *****
10 Disgrace, J.M. Coatzee *
11 The Last Thing He Wanted, Joan Didion ****
12 Songs for the Missing, Stewart O'Nan **
13 After Henry, Joan Didion ****
14 The Yellow King and Other Stories, Robert W. Chambers ***
15 Swimming, Joanna Hershon ****
16 The Thousand-Dollar Tan Line, Rob Thomas and Jennifer Graham ****
17 Powers, Vol 2: Roleplay, Brian Michael Bendis ***
18 Powers, Vol 3: Little Deaths, Brian Michael Bendis ***
19 Powers, Vol 4: Supergroup, Brian Michael Bendis *****
20 Powers, Vol 5: Anarchy, Brian Michael Bendis ****
21 The Book of Unknown Americans, Cristina Henriquez *****
22 Powers, Vol 6: The Sellouts, Brian Michael Bendis ****
23 Powers, Vol 7: Forever, Brian Michael Bendis *****
24 Powers, Vol 8: Legends, Brian Michael Bendis ****
25 Powers, Vol 9: Psychotic, Brian Michael Bendis ****
26 Powers, Vol 10: Cosmic, Brian Michael Bendis ***
27 Powers, Vol 11: Secret Identity, Brian Michael Bendis ****
28 The Most Dangerous Animal of All, Gary L. Stewart and Susan D. Mustafa **
29 Cutting Teeth, Julia Fierro *****
30 Goodbye to All That: Writers on Loving and Leaving New York, ed. Sari Botton ****
31 The Woman Upstairs, Claire Messud ****
32 Friendship, Emily Gould ****
33 Wild, Cheryl Strayed *****
34 Middlemarch, George Eliot ****
35 Bad Feminist, Roxane Gay *****
36 Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie ****
37 Nightwood, Djuna Barnes ****
38 All the Roads That Lead From Home, Anne Leigh Parrish ****
39 NW, Zadie Smith ***
40 A Million Miles, Amy Fleisher Madden *****
41 Station Eleven, Emily St. John Mandel *****
42 Tiny Beautiful Things, Cheryl Strayed *****
Like I said, it was an inspiring year in reading. One of my favorite new authors, Roxane Gay, who wrote Bad Feminist, had a fun superlative-y way of of recounting her year in reading -- here's me trying to do the same...
My favorite book of the year, and perhaps the last decade--a novel in which I saw myself and my mother and the important stories of of those who rarely have their voices heard: The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez
My second favorite book of the year, because when one becomes inundated with apocalyptic premises, this one will sneak up on your and make you realize the beauty in your own world: Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel
A book dear to my heart that fills me with pride in my friend and honor to have been asked to edit it as it headed towards publication: A Million Miles by Amy Fleisher Madden
Examples of well-written novels that are great reads without having a "relatable" protagonist to root for (something I despise when people evaluate a story): Cutting Teeth by Julia Fierro, The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud
Example of a not-so-well-written true story with a narrator you're supposed to like but by the end you kind of hate and you were glad when you got some money for it when you traded it in before moving across the country because c'mon, not even a DNA test?: The Most Dangerous Animal of All by Gary L. Stewart (who believes his father was the Zodiac)
She wrote how many pages at what age and won what award what am I doing with my life this is amazing!?: The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton
Book I tried because of its Celebrated Author but became confused as to why it was any good at all: Disgrace by J.M. Coatzee
Now understand why this marvel is a classic: Middlemarch by George Eliot
Book that started out like watching the pilot episode of LOST and then became the final season of LOST and just...uh...lost me: S by J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst
Short stories that stayed with me for such a long time I had to take breaks between reading the next story: All the Roads That Lead From Home by Anne Leigh Parrish
Cannot wait for the movie because LUPITA: Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Books that made me cry in public: Wild and Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed, The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez, Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay
What was the best thing you read in 2014?
Previously: 2009 | 2012 | 2013
Friday, January 23, 2015
My Favorite Albums of 2014.
Yes, I'm late. It's nearly February of 2015! I will say -- I think I already like more music in 2015 than I did in 2014. 2014, for me, was the year of the soundtrack... and some of those songs weren't released in 2014, but I'm counting it either way.
But I did deem two albums my Queen and King.
St. Vincent / St. Vincent
I've loved Annie's music for a long time, but this one, aptly self-titled, is her best album yet. She's a musical genius whose songs and sounds mesmerize me. For instance, probably my favorite sound or recorded aural moment of 2014 was in the song "Huey Lewis" during an instrumental break that starts around 2:10 and really revs around 2:36. That point that it revs? I remember walking to work in New York and listening to this song for a few weeks straight during that walk -- and pushing up the volume at that moment to drown out everything and get pumped for the day. It still works. Every single song on this album works.
&
Ryan Adams / Ryan Adams
[SIDENOTE: REALIZATION THAT MY QUEEN AND KING BOTH RELEASED SELF-TITLED ALBUMS IN 2014?]
Ryan has been a favorite for years, clearly, since this very space on the internet is named after a lyric in one of his songs. And this S/T shines with some brilliant moments; some of his best music in years. There's something more calm in him, but with that ever-present soulfulness that I love his music for. It's also coupled with the fact that Jesse surprised me with tickets to see Ryan Adams a week after moving to Los Angeles in December--the sound of the newest songs vibrated within me. When he sang "New York, New York" I began to cry. Then he sang "Dear Chicago" into "Lucky Now" and I bawled; it was a necessary catharsis. I live here now. I love him always.
Here's my Rdio playlist of some songs from my favorites of 2014 -- the rest of the list is below --
+
Against Me! / Transgender Dysmorphia Blues
The throaty wails and strength remain, it's power and it's beautiful.
+
OK Go / Hungry Ghosts
The best album they've recorded. The videos are still brilliant -- but I've definitely danced around in my room alone because this music gets me pumped UP.
+
The Xcerts / There Is Only You
Jesse played this album over and over and over again. And now I love it.
+
ALL OF THE SOUNDTRACKS
Boyhood - my most listened to song of the year was "Hero" by Family of the Year
Begin Again - yes freakin' Adam Levine is in this movie and on this soundtrack SORRY I LOVE IT
The Guest - LISTEN TO THIS ENTIRE ALBUM WITH GLEE DO IT NOW
Only Lovers Left Alive - death / life / love / eternity / guitaaaarzzz
Whiplash - what the hell I'm listening to instrumental jazz on the daily now what IT'S SO GOOD
Under the Skin - eerie being eerie
I must mention that Fiona Apple wrote a title song for the Showtime drama The Affair and that song is like eight million times better than that show is and I think I just pressed next episode JUST TO HEAR THAT SONG PLAY OVER THE TITLES. And yet! And yet!!!!! It's unavailable for purchase anywhere. I've looked. If you find it, tell me. I sink back into the ocean...
+
Honorable Mentions:
The Both / The Both
The Menzingers / Rented World
+
What about yourself? January has already been fruitful with releases: Sleater-Kinney's No Cities to Love is giving me life, Bjork's surprise early release, Mark Ronson's dance fest Uptown Special is the soundtrack to my dinner-cooking most nights. But we'll save that list for the end of this year...
Here's some of my past top albums: 2007 | 2008 | 2009 | 2010 | 2012 | 2013
But I did deem two albums my Queen and King.
St. Vincent / St. Vincent
I've loved Annie's music for a long time, but this one, aptly self-titled, is her best album yet. She's a musical genius whose songs and sounds mesmerize me. For instance, probably my favorite sound or recorded aural moment of 2014 was in the song "Huey Lewis" during an instrumental break that starts around 2:10 and really revs around 2:36. That point that it revs? I remember walking to work in New York and listening to this song for a few weeks straight during that walk -- and pushing up the volume at that moment to drown out everything and get pumped for the day. It still works. Every single song on this album works.
&
Ryan Adams / Ryan Adams
[SIDENOTE: REALIZATION THAT MY QUEEN AND KING BOTH RELEASED SELF-TITLED ALBUMS IN 2014?]
Ryan has been a favorite for years, clearly, since this very space on the internet is named after a lyric in one of his songs. And this S/T shines with some brilliant moments; some of his best music in years. There's something more calm in him, but with that ever-present soulfulness that I love his music for. It's also coupled with the fact that Jesse surprised me with tickets to see Ryan Adams a week after moving to Los Angeles in December--the sound of the newest songs vibrated within me. When he sang "New York, New York" I began to cry. Then he sang "Dear Chicago" into "Lucky Now" and I bawled; it was a necessary catharsis. I live here now. I love him always.
Here's my Rdio playlist of some songs from my favorites of 2014 -- the rest of the list is below --
+
Against Me! / Transgender Dysmorphia Blues
The throaty wails and strength remain, it's power and it's beautiful.
+
OK Go / Hungry Ghosts
The best album they've recorded. The videos are still brilliant -- but I've definitely danced around in my room alone because this music gets me pumped UP.
+
The Xcerts / There Is Only You
Jesse played this album over and over and over again. And now I love it.
+
ALL OF THE SOUNDTRACKS
Boyhood - my most listened to song of the year was "Hero" by Family of the Year
Begin Again - yes freakin' Adam Levine is in this movie and on this soundtrack SORRY I LOVE IT
The Guest - LISTEN TO THIS ENTIRE ALBUM WITH GLEE DO IT NOW
Only Lovers Left Alive - death / life / love / eternity / guitaaaarzzz
Whiplash - what the hell I'm listening to instrumental jazz on the daily now what IT'S SO GOOD
Under the Skin - eerie being eerie
I must mention that Fiona Apple wrote a title song for the Showtime drama The Affair and that song is like eight million times better than that show is and I think I just pressed next episode JUST TO HEAR THAT SONG PLAY OVER THE TITLES. And yet! And yet!!!!! It's unavailable for purchase anywhere. I've looked. If you find it, tell me. I sink back into the ocean...
+
Honorable Mentions:
The Both / The Both
The Menzingers / Rented World
+
What about yourself? January has already been fruitful with releases: Sleater-Kinney's No Cities to Love is giving me life, Bjork's surprise early release, Mark Ronson's dance fest Uptown Special is the soundtrack to my dinner-cooking most nights. But we'll save that list for the end of this year...
Here's some of my past top albums: 2007 | 2008 | 2009 | 2010 | 2012 | 2013
Saturday, January 3, 2015
New York City you're almost gone.
It’s 2015 now, and I live in Los Angeles. I moved here two weeks ago and it’s been a transition of a magnitude I’ve never experienced before—and I grew up moving every two years in a military family. It’s good, though, for the most part (what move isn’t without its downfalls?).
I don’t fear change or adjustment (probably due to aforementioned upbringing), and I’m looking forward to finding my routine in this wild west. Sometimes I feel as though I was physically launched from New York to Los Angeles as if a cartoon, pried loose like a splinter deeply entrenched in Brooklyn and flailed across the miles to land with a few bumps softened by Jesse’s tight embrace in the sunny December heat of the San Fernando valley.
New apartment, new car, but same friends, same job. New office, right in our new home.
It’s been interesting – no, not “interesting,” what a bland word – it’s been odd, magnificent, thrilling, strange, fun, and weird the past couple of weeks in the road to acclimation. Jesse and I have been married for five years (an anniversary celebrated in 2014), but it’s the first time we’ve found ourselves living in a space that’s all our own. New York means roommates. These last two weeks, though, have been a revelation and we’ve reveled in our newfound independence with each other. We’ve even learned a few things about each other in this two-bed, two-bath that were previously undiscovered or indecipherable in that giant loft space (with various roommates over the years). It’s a bit of a rebirth, an enlightening new view of my husband and this relationship. I like it.
There’s still more thoughts on 2014 to come in their usual form: what I consumed in 2014 art-wise and how it fell in rank by year’s end. I’ve been collecting thoughts on New York the Joan Didion way, of course. That goodbye is formulating somewhere in the back of my mind. I’ve had no chance to really sit down and write the past month—that’s what packing and unpacking and organizing and working a day job and flying across the country with a cat and fretting over big money purchases will do to a person. But, I miss it. I mean to continue the writing routine I established last year, starting here, starting now.
I don’t fear change or adjustment (probably due to aforementioned upbringing), and I’m looking forward to finding my routine in this wild west. Sometimes I feel as though I was physically launched from New York to Los Angeles as if a cartoon, pried loose like a splinter deeply entrenched in Brooklyn and flailed across the miles to land with a few bumps softened by Jesse’s tight embrace in the sunny December heat of the San Fernando valley.
New apartment, new car, but same friends, same job. New office, right in our new home.
It’s been interesting – no, not “interesting,” what a bland word – it’s been odd, magnificent, thrilling, strange, fun, and weird the past couple of weeks in the road to acclimation. Jesse and I have been married for five years (an anniversary celebrated in 2014), but it’s the first time we’ve found ourselves living in a space that’s all our own. New York means roommates. These last two weeks, though, have been a revelation and we’ve reveled in our newfound independence with each other. We’ve even learned a few things about each other in this two-bed, two-bath that were previously undiscovered or indecipherable in that giant loft space (with various roommates over the years). It’s a bit of a rebirth, an enlightening new view of my husband and this relationship. I like it.
There’s still more thoughts on 2014 to come in their usual form: what I consumed in 2014 art-wise and how it fell in rank by year’s end. I’ve been collecting thoughts on New York the Joan Didion way, of course. That goodbye is formulating somewhere in the back of my mind. I’ve had no chance to really sit down and write the past month—that’s what packing and unpacking and organizing and working a day job and flying across the country with a cat and fretting over big money purchases will do to a person. But, I miss it. I mean to continue the writing routine I established last year, starting here, starting now.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Planes and plains.
A whirling weekend involving impromptu travel plans began promptly at 5:15am Friday morning. I'd fallen asleep only five hours before, the twinge of excitement alive in my stomach making sleep fitful (also to blame: the nocturnally hungry cats). But the adrenaline pumped as my alarm went off and I showered, put on my pre-planned air travel outfit (slouchy dolman shirt, slouchy boyfriend jeans, a study in ultimate comfort) and threw my toothbrush in my backpack.
Arriving at the airport at 6:30am I busied myself near the gate with the iPads available to order breakfast at every seat around. Coffee, bagel STAT. An hour until boarding. Perused internet places, fell in love with some writers, felt even more motivated to write more. Mentally noted some places I could take my characters next time I sat down to write.
Boarding! Got to my window seat, opened my book, and promptly fell asleep. An hour and a half later I woke up and didn't understand why we were still on the tarmac at LaGuardia. WHAT IS HAPPENING?
And that's where everything devolved. We eased back to a different gate due to a mechanical issue with the air conditioning. And then we heard the problem could be solved! With a new part! That would take 4-5 hours to arrive from JFK airport. And so, at 10:30am my 8:30am flight was rescheduled for 5pm.
I was supposed to arrive in Minneapolis at 10:30am, pick up my rental car, and be reunited with husband, band, cool studio/house by noon on Friday. Instead, I did not arrive until well after 9pm. I spent my day at LaGuardia.
The moment that I cracked? I was waiting standby for the fourth Minneapolis flight of the day at 4pm, surrounded by the others from my stranded flight hoping to get on another, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was a co-worker who was sweating profusely.
-- Jessica! What are you doing here?I stood there as she scurried to the gate agent. I watched her drag her carry-on behind her and walk right under the screen that had my name listed as #13 on stand-by priority. And then I started laughing. She'd been in the airport for maybe 20 minutes. And she was on her way to Minneapolis!
-- I've been here since 6:30am! What are YOU doing here?!
-- I am going to visit my friends in Minneapolis! I thought I was going to be late, I've been running through the airport. Oh, look my zone's boarding! I hope you get on this flight!
As I stood by the window to the new gate at 5pm, waiting for my original flight, I started laughing at the absurdity again. That's right: I was laughing to myself, by myself. When the plane pulled into the gate I was quite shocked. I raised my hands over my head, gleeful and unbelieving. IT'S HERE! I yelled. FULL OF GLEE.
Because many people from the original flight were lucky enough to fly stand-by earlier or get another flight or cancel altogether, I had a whole row to myself when my original flight finally took off at 6:30pm. YUP. I slept most of the way, and the adrenaline returned as I stepped off the plane into MINNESOTA. I nearly dropped to my knees and kissed the ground. But that's gross.
I picked out my rental car, plugged my iPhone into the car, entered the address for the house and I was on my way! It was actually quite a beautiful ride as I drove further into the rural countryside. And then, as it grew darker, I remembered my true feelings about rural countrysides: they are scary.
But I arrived soundly at house Pachyderm, a rental living space and music studio, where Nirvana most famously recorded In Utero. The Motion City men are recording their sixth album there. When I entered the house I was met with complete silence (it was empty since they were recording in the studio building). On first impression, the house looks like it was built in the '60s (it was), but not in the woods of Minnesota, more like the hills of California. Perhaps it was because I was just reading about the Manson murders and the death of the '60s, but I was like, this looks like a murder house. There's orange carpeting and floor to ceiling windows. It's so retro California and at night the windows are pitch black and anybody outside can look in without you noticing. These are the thoughts I have. I mean, serial killers live in the woods, right?
 |
| Reunited |
Luckily Jesse met me and showed me the rest of the premises, but he had to get back to recording. He told me to relax, swim in that indoor pool if I wanted (it was very inviting after being in an airport all day!), and just chill out. So, I attempted to. The pool is poorly lit and the bottom of the pool is painted black, so pair that with the giant wall of black windows, I was little skittish. But the pool was warm! It was inviting! I got in and dipped under water. When I came back up I heard a BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! above me, like someone running through the kitchen. It ended up being Justin coming back to the house for something, but that was the moment the water grew cold and I started shivering and I tip-toed back to Jesse's room for a hot shower, locking every door behind me.
 |
| Black bottom pool |
The house is very beautiful, but, y'know, it's also feels like MURDER HOUSE at night. MIGHT JUST BE ME?!?!!?!
Saturday, my only complete day to be spent in my husband's presence, was a fun day filled with friends. Fellow MCS wives Lindsay and Jill joined, along with our best man Jason, and other new people. There was a lot of catching up and game-playing while the men wrote and recorded. We drank wine and listened to the progress of the recorded songs. I cannot wait to hear the finished versions of these songs. They have me amped. Lindsay and I are already planning dance moves at future shows. When the guys wrapped up for the evening we sat around the dining room table discussing all sorts of topics, but me, I mostly talked about serial killers.
 |
| Discussion about some keyboard parts |
 |
| Takes three men to get this grill to work |
 |
| Work work work |
And on to another subject entirely. It must be noted that throughout this whole weekend, my best friend in the whole world was in labor. I was anxious with updates and I didn't want to go to bed until I'd heard a baby had been born. So around 2am I was able to breathe easy again and let me tell you, as the first of my close friends to have a baby, the photos of that baby made me weep with joy and dance around because he is beautiful and I am so happy for my friend.
It was a sad Sunday morning, as only about 36 hours had passed, and I was packing up to leave again. Jesse and I made breakfast and sipped coffees looking at photos of our friend's new baby. Everyone else slowly joined the kitchen congregation and then it was time for me to say my goodbyes even though I'd just said hello.
The drive to the airport quickly took my mind off any melancholy, however, because it began pouring a solid wall of water and my fear-filled weekend ended on a note of hydroplane anxiety. I made it fine however, because I am an excellent driver.
I boarded the plane on time, it left on time, and it even arrived in New York on time. As I de-planed I noticed my co-worker that I'd seen on Friday had been on the same flight as myself, too. Oh, oh the coincidences--that we must not ignore, because that's the beauty of life, right?
 |
| Funny one because I like it |
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
1250
Yesterday: the heat.
There were two plans and both involved going to the movies and one was reliant on another factor and included the director doing a Q&A and the other was just two ladies getting together for a subversive comedy. First plan devolved and then the second shortly after. I went home to the cats.
The cats were happy to see me and I was unhappy to see their fur coming off their bodies in swaths. The heat! The air was thick not only with humidity but also cat hair.
I made myself comfortable and heated up my leftover Thai food and got up again to crack open that last Crispin cider in the fridge because did I mention it was hot? The humidity was making my hair reach out to there.
The second season of Orange is the New Black continues to prove that there are still many, many stories out there left to be told (let's stop re-hashing the same stuff, right?) and a lot of those untold stories are that of women and people of color. I admired the brilliant unfolding of the fourth episode with Lorna's backstory. It's just full of the kind of storylines and people I don't see in the media much. More of this! More, please, more.
My attempt to stay cool in the apartment were dwindling as my cider evaporated but lucky for me Adam was nearby and he too enjoys cider. I walked into the bar and he already had two ciders waiting. Somebody asked if we were hydrating by drinking pints of water. Oh no, dear friend. This is cider.
After I flopped onto my bed and slept barely in that warmth. The cat wanted to snuggle like most nights but I had to push him away; what are you crazy? I said.
Tonight, my own personal brand of torture: doing laundry.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
1249
.JPG)
Planned impromptu travel plans with the husband last night. It becomes a much more difficult task when you're thirty and have a job and a pet and friends who are nine months pregnant and plans already in your calendar for the time you're looking to escape town. But escape I will and I'm looking forward to the journey and the adventure to come in three days time. His photos have been drenched in a lush greenery and I imagine that while he will have to do some work I will use the solitary time to focus on some writing with that green decorating the edges of my focus, fueling the creativity. At least, I hope.
Monday, June 2, 2014
On The Amazing Spider-Man 2 and Death.
The following contains SPOILERS regarding 2014's The Amazing Spider-Man 2. If you're a fan of the comics, you pretty much know what I'm about to discuss.
A few weeks ago I found myself with a lack of plans since most friends were busy and my husband was out of town. This particular Tuesday afternoon I decided to see The Amazing Spider-Man 2 when I left the office. I settled on the superhero movie because I’d seen most everything else interesting in theaters, and because I figured the Very Important Thing from the comics had to happen in this sequel.
In one of the most defining moments in the original comic book series, readers witnessed the death of Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker’s high school love. It’s a crucial and dramatic scene made even more tragic because it’s unclear in the comic whether Green Goblin has already killed Gwen when she’s thrown off the George Washington Bridge or if Spider-Man’s web grabbing her mid-free fall whiplashes her so severely her neck breaks. This one moment is so much a part of Spider-Man legend that to this day people still debate what really happened and it even inspires amazing surreal-narrative novels. About a fictional event! In this latest series of films Gwen Stacy is played by the endlessly charming actor Emma Stone. She’s funny, intelligent, and gloriously blond as Gwen; her rapport with Andrew Garfield (her real life boyfriend) feels like the real glue of the story and the films would feel empty without this element.
So, I went to the movie to see Gwen Stacy die. Not that I wanted her to.
+
I settled into my seat at the theater with my nutritious concession-stand dinner of chicken tenders. I ripped open ketchup packets while observing the crowd as they filtered in. I enjoy the experience of going to a movie by myself; of course it’s rare that I’m truly by myself. Observing others’ reactions to the same material has always fascinated me.
That night the theater was relatively empty—another reason I love to go right after work on a weeknight. There was a family in the row directly in front of me; a man and woman with two small children. The children, a girl and a boy, were seated between their parents. A twenty-something man in a tie arrived just as the trailers started and by the looks of it, he had also came straight from work, though a large popcorn and soda would serve as his dinner. He was two rows ahead of me.
The movie started, and just like in the first film, I was most captivated by the scenes that centered on Peter Parker, not as Spider-Man, but as a teenager talking to his Aunt May or going back and forth on his need to break up with Gwen to make sure she is safe (foreshadowing!). The action was fine if quite unthrilling. The movie almost felt like two separate movies mashed up into one, and I probably yawned as Jamie Foxx’s Electro tried frying Times Square or when Dane DeHaan’s Harry Osborne tried saving himself from his father’s own ugly fate1 or… I’m not even sure what Paul Giamatti’s bad guy role served. With a two hour and 22 minute runtime, I was noticing every piece of film that could be excised from the tonally uneven mess. I was taken out of the movie simply for wondering, “Why does this scene exist?” The thing was bloated from the beginning; nothing would have changed had they deleted the first 15 minutes (which they should have). I could go on, but If you want to know my feelings regarding the movie as a whole, my opinion most closely mirrors Film Crit Hulk Smash, who has 237 burning questions for it.
+
Perhaps that bloat was for a reason. Maybe the director and others in control of the final product also didn’t want to get to the saddest part. There was a minute there where I thought, hey, maybe she won’t die! Alas. Gwen, plucky as ever, decides to help her boyfriend at the last because she cares about the people of New York I suppose, and because she’s smart and knows about electric power-grid machinery. But she is not a superhero, and that’s where she’s less smart and it’s a bit aggravating.2
Gwen meets her demise in somewhat similar fashion to the comics—the Green Goblin drops her down a shaft as Spider-Man comes to rescue her while simultaneously sparring with the enemy. The main difference is that she is alive and screaming Peter’s name as she falls, waiting for that gentle snap of being caught in his web, which was demonstrated so innocently in the first film. As Spider-Man fends off the Goblin, he’s also trying to make sure his web reaches her, but there’s a cascade of metal objects falling as well, and getting in the way of her assured safety. Finally, Spider-Man neutralizes the Green Goblin and dives into the shaft to focus on Gwen—his web reaches her torso in slow-mo, hoisting her, just as her head snaps back and comes into contact with the ground. She appears immediately unconscious. When Peter reaches her and holds her, and that tell-tale blood appears, then it is sure: she’s dead.
You know what’s tough? Seeing Emma Stone die. That guy in the tie two rows ahead of me sobbed. I managed to hear him through my own shallow breath, my tears streaming freely. Gwen Stacy was the untarnished good person in these films, partly due to a lack of any true character depth, but mostly because of Stone’s gargantuan likability factor. Stone portrayed her so lovingly, so ultimate-best-friend-like (and girlfriend-like), that her death really had that emotional gut punch on screen. It felt like the soul of the film had departed.
+
As I tried hard to stifle any sort of vocalization of my tears, afraid that those nearby might hear me cry, I heard the tiny voice of the little girl in front of me ask her mother, “Why isn’t Gwen waking up?”
And then I cried all over again.
+
After the movie it was that little girl I couldn’t let go. Because she must have been six or seven years old and she didn’t know what death meant yet.
I tried thinking of when I first understood death. I think I probably had my first inkling when I was a kid watching movies like Jaws. I have a vague memory of sitting on the rug playing with my dolls in my aunt and uncle’s living room in Rhode Island while my aunt and dad watched tv. It must’ve been the late ‘80s. I was not paying attention to the television until I heard the first notes of that famous John Williams score, and then my eyes grew wide as I saw the great white shark and its victims. I was intrigued by the gore and how painful it looked—I recognized that red stuff was the same ooze that would materialize when I scuffed my knees playing with my brother, its mere appearance made me cry—but I didn’t grasp death. Forever is a hard concept for a kid to get, too.
I don’t remember asking my parents about death. I’ll have to ask them if they remember having to explain it to me. I wonder if it was after a horror movie, or any movie. Unless it happens in real life first, I have to think a fictional death in a movie or a book is the kick-off for the conversation. I wonder if we even had the conversation. Or did I come to understand death on my own after collecting all the evidence via media and then understanding more fully when it happened to my aunt or my grandmother or that girl in college? Does understanding death happen all at once? Or incrementally until you’re on the same page with everyone else?
+
Some people spend their lifetimes trying to comprehend death, and if there is more that it entails beyond the ceasing of life. Death happens, but there are so many unknowns around it. All I’ve learned is that you really begin to understand other people when death looms. When your friend has to go in for extra tests because of a lump. When the younger brother of your best friend passes in his sleep and you see the different ways all of her friends react. When you get the call about the death of a relative two days after it happened. You then understand how death means different things to different people. Everybody understands the cold reality of expiration, but it’s those still living we really have to worry about.
Years from now, that little girl may or may not remember witnessing Gwen Stacy’s death on the big screen, but maybe that was the spark that set off a curiosity about the concept of death and the film’s correlation to reality. Perhaps like Jaws and the blood, she’ll begin to see how movies can reflect the hardest parts of life even if it’s not real. I left the theater thinking about the girl and what that on-screen death would mean to her and what it had meant to me to hear her, but I wasn’t really thinking about Gwen anymore.
-------
1 I was also gawking at how much DeHaan looks like a young Leonardo DiCaprio, perhaps just as capable an actor too—point is I was not paying attention much to Green Goblin.
2 To quote the aforementioned Hulk review: "DO YOU REALIZE THAT THIS MOVIE IS SAYING THAT GWEN DIES BECAUSE SHE DID NOT LISTEN TO HER BOYFRIEND? AND HAD TO BASICALLY INSIST ON MARCHING OFF TO HER OWN DEATH SO IT'S NOT PETER'S FAULT?”
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Scenes from winter.
And I write like this now because we are 'we.' We are sisters, and we are all different, but most of the time, like that Saturday morning, we all move in unison and speak in that language that only we understand. We laugh at the jokes that are impossible to understand if overheard. We know to rely on each other when we need to, and we know happiness isn't a status but each other.
+
"Your skin isn't dry?"
I wasn't sure what the manicurist was so confused about, which is why she probably continued: "For months, every single girl has dry skin because of winter. Why are your hands so soft?"
Apparently my new winter routine, which I enacted after noticing my scaly skin in Panama, has been somewhat successful. The Beauty Department posted a Dry Brushing 101 tutorial, and I was intrigued by the dry brushing concept and benefits, and the whole moisturizing with body oil before a shower (and after). So, to Amazon I went - buying a body brush and body oil. Surprisingly, body brushing doesn't hurt, but rather feels invigorating, especially in the morning. And the oil feels great, something I wasn't sure my texturally-hyper-aware and non-sticky sensibilities would like. My skin feels wonderful and I'll be sticking to this routine through to warmer weather.
That's the one winter beauty tip that I can pass along.
+
Jesse arrived in Minneapolis last week on a day in which the high was 0 degrees. New York's had a few 'feels like 0' days, though. We've been sharing a lot of chapped kisses these days, but it's been nice to have him close on the cold nights. We don't usually watch a lot of television together, but we've snuggled close for True Detective and the BRILLIANT Broad City and now we're amidst The Returned (which is a French show that is not associated with that new U.S. show Resurrection, lest you heard wrong). I hope we'll be able to venture out more often (not that we've been exactly hibernating - can you truly hibernate in New York and stay sane?), but at least in a couple of weeks we'll be sunning ourselves at a wedding in warmer climates. I can't wait.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Thinking about Panama.
I've been remiss, yet again. I flew south and forgot my routine when back in the cold. I spent nine glorious days nearer to the equator, nearer to my far-flung family, nearer to a sun that could scorch your core if you weren't careful.
That's one thing Panamanians understand: the strength of that blinding yellow sphere. There's nobody lounging uncovered on a towel on the beach; the sand is empty and the people are either in the water with t-shirts or in the cabanas under the shade of trees. Nobody wins a fight against the sun in that belly of the world, even if you're wielding SPF 90. The sun's much too uncomfortable down there, too. I wanted to sit in a chair, feel the heat on my legs as I drifted into Didion's Salvador--I like to match my vacation reading to the locale--but two minutes, maybe less, and I was moving that chair under a tree again. The sun in Panama burns in the way a stove might sear your dinner or those first few layers of skin; it's the devilish half to its northern personality.
My grandfather (Abuelo) turned 86 while we were there in January. He christened me Popsicle when I was younger, because I always wanted a cool, sugary treat from the corner store when visiting in the summers. He'd escort me and my brother (Abuelo nicknamed him Peluso for his untamable hair), and buy us 'boli' ice pops for five cents each. Popsicle is one of the few English words he knows, and he still holds my cheeks and says it in greeting.
Abuelo's wrinkles were always part of his face in my memory, and his eyes squint out from them when he's smiling, just as mine already do (minus the wrinkles -- but I'm sure I'll get there one day). Last year his health ebbed at times, in a borderline scary fashion, and I worried about him so far away, but my mother at least flew in to help. He's better now and in January he still called me Popsicle and I sat with him on the couch, holding his hand and remaining silent for the most part but still smiling. He's never been a man of many words.
My mother and father were there too in January and we spent a few days on a beach that not many souls know about and I read many books and played cards with cousins and helped gather firewood for the evening bonfires. It's desolate in grand fashion; it's expansive and gorgeous and we're the only people taking up a small bit of it's seemingly infinite space. On the first night there my father told me to come see the stars away from the cabana lights and Jesse and I walked out towards the tide line, which had pulled back into the ocean and we walked where earlier that day we had struggled to stay afloat. We looked up and the entire universe was overhead. The milky way, a cool blue star, something red, all breathtaking. We are but specks and it's always there on that beach that I feel it most, gazing into other worlds.
One day we drove into the mountain area named Volcan for the dormant volcano nearby, and the breeze took the bite out of that sun and we were surrounded by lush greenery and Panama's agricultural center of farms and silos and greenhouses and animals. Everything seems much more vivid in that country of my birth. When we flew between cities the coastline's blues and greens were bordered by jungle and not even near Panama City did I witness too many of the resorts that pepper every beach in the United States like the ones last year we saw descending into Tampa or even San Francisco. Panama's beauty is still vast and there are those who don't venture past its capital -- for now. I visit every other year and there's a fear I'll come back to a ruined nature of things as I knew them. I held my breath this time as we rounded corners--for just a second, though, because everything is still lovely and some things even improved.
Time with my family is always full of laughter, jokes, easy camaraderie, and love. My godmother and mother's twin, Tia Lita, always putting others before herself and making sure Jesse had air conditioning in the room that's usually hers. Always practicing her English with us and making sure we know how happy she is that we are there. My Tia Belly, the young rascal who used to model and wants everyone to think that she's my sister, not twenty years older. My Tio Neco, serious and efficient sometimes, but just the opposite when he decides to let loose. He brought over his two new kittens to the house because he knew how much I wanted to meet them. My Abuelo and Abuela, together forever in that same house since I was a babe. There are many, many others. I think of them and I feel warm again.
On our last night in Panama City, all my cousins took us out for an evening on the town, finding a craft beer bar that Jesse would appreciate. They spoke in English and I practiced my Spanish--we all seemed to speak with more ease once we started imbibing. My cousins are all of my generation and we are most curious about each other's lives in different countries and we talk about pop culture and politics and our family and our differences but our surprising similarities. At the end of the night, it was hard to say goodbye to my Panamanian counterparts, as a few hours seemed too few for all we wanted to say to each other.
My mother is in Panama for another month; it was her birthday yesterday and we're able to text, but I really can't wait to see her again. For now I can only imagine myself next to her and my family out there on that abandoned beach; I've transported there several times in my mind, especially today as I battled the snow into work and on my way home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
