Fashion Figures Tweeting Bullshit

Ok, not ALL. I just spent 20 minutes scanning various fashion personalities’ Twitter streams and was surprised (or not) to find plenty of annoying similarities (on some profiles), like mottoes, words of encouragement and assorted tidbits of wisdom.

As much as my first impulse is to appreciate fashion gods using social media tools and sending us advice that should inspire us, I concurrently feel that they (these soulless profiles) don’t honestly mean or believe what they send. Moreover, I think they are using Twitter to simply enhance their brand (a facade, a public image). It’s bullshit.

I should say now, that not everyone is doing this. Those in the younger spectrum seem to be using Twitter for what it really is, and interacting with fans or peeps they know. Zac Posen does a great job, so does Coco Rocha, Henry Holland and so on. There are plenty of real people on there, and they bring a lovely dimension to their public personas, and I love their brand more for it!

But look at this colorful batch!

Are you kidding me? How old is this guy? He seems to be quoting for a how-to-make-it-big-in-life mixed with an art book. Both a failure. Maybe good for aspiring 13 year olds.

And Carine Roitfeld:

I’m sorry, but I doubt that Carine Roitfeld got where she is now by “being nice to everyone”, being friends with a few and trusting only herself. Come on. She is a hardworking woman, and she in a fashion world. You think she would be absolutely nice to everyone (nudge nudge interns and poor anorexic fashion journalist wannabes)? And what about being friends with a few? Come on, I bet her BlackBerry contact list is exploding with friends.

The only decent quote on her page is this (and I favorited it). Very good point, and I do follow it:

I was horrified to learn that Allie Hilfiger is learning from these automaton Twitter accounts. She’s a youngun and in no way certified to disperse “wisdom” to the rest of us. But this is a free country, so obviously I have no problem with this.

This is actually decent:

Karl Lagerfeld does this thing too, but he’s at least ancient and has seen it all. Moreover, I do love him, and his tweets honestly sound self-produced and in no way fabricated (but then who knows, he may have a better talented ghost-twitterer). I actually favorite a lot of his posts.

I have a couple of questions to those automaton-like fashion celebrity accounts.

• Do they really tweet themselves? I suspect a lot of ghost-tweeting… Heh, interns of the 21st century are also obliged to tweet on their bosses’ behalf.
• Why don’t they interact with their fans? Do they want to stay out of “proletarian”, cheap and accessible-to-all tools like Twitter? Do they not know how to check for mentions?
• Why do they sound so goddamn generic? Is this because of the lack of erudition, personal opinion, personal publicly available opinion?

I am so fascinated by this. I have been thinking about this ever since I stared following Lagerfeld last year. But I truly love him. If anything, he’s best in class at this distant fashion icon tweeting. But others? Come on, others. Disengage or show some personality. Have you noticed any more fashion people doing this? Share. This blog is based on 20 minute long stalking session of certain twitter profiles (and several months of thinking), it’s by no means an exhaustive academic study.

I should also say that I have no doubt that these are wonderful and interesting people in real life (and they are, I know it), but what they’re doing with their Twitter profiles absolutely revolts me. If they started quoting various artists, intellectuals and philosophers from whom they learned (heh, if any), then I would quickly change my mind. Just don’t tweet Deepak, please.

Lactose-Free Milk or Gratitude

I was in the kitchen at work, washing my dishes, and started spacing out when I noticed a carton of lactose-free milk (organic, too) sitting on the counter, well, standing on the counter (we’ll talk about my semantic hangups with the “sitting” expression some other day), and I thought, my god, in this society we have so much to choose from, so much to  please us, we are free to align ourselves with any belief, any brand, movement and organization and so many take it for granted or absolutely don’t realize that in almost any other part of the world things are not the same way.

I thought back to my Eastern European days, and my country men’s love of sour cream and other dairy. There was no lactose free milk there (but then again, I never met a lactose-intolerant person back there, either), no talk of veganism, gluten-free food and other gastronomic curiosities, self- or doctor-prescribed. What would a vegan do in Sarajevo? Heck, there would be no vegan in the first place, or there would be serious health problems after 1-3 years of veganism. And what about Africa, dare you even mention spelt bread or organic, sustainable, wild/farmed salmon?

I’m not condoning those things, these are great additions to our wonderfully cushioned life in the West, but they are things that a lot of those born here take for granted. Things that don’t even exist in the majority of the world, or for the majority of people. I suppose I’m saying that people should be a little more grateful, or not scorn the poor barista for over/underheating their venti skinny half-sweet hazelnut latte with extra foam. Bitch less about the excess of what you have and instead be grateful for all the wonderful opportunities under your nose.

There’s a Russian expression which applies perfetly: [Они ]с жиру бесятся.

Frank O’Hara & A Photograph

Yes, Frank O’Hara was featured in the last episode of Mad Men, season 2, and that’s how I first heard about him. Recently I acquired “Meditations in an Emergency” collection of poems, and to my delight, found that he’s an exceptionally talented poet. He mixes nuggets of pop culture with vivid images and aptly coiling phrases that project sly, sticky pictures in your head. If you follow the link at the beginning of the post, you will learn a lot more about him, and perhaps, be surprised. Frank O’Hara is not an obscure name in American literature, it is I who’s been an obscure mind in the dark about him! Bonus: he also loved Mayakovsky, and even wrote a poem to him.

Since I’m on a movie bend this week (and generally, too), I’m sharing his “To the Film Industry in Crisis”, below:

Not you, lean quarterlies and swarthy periodicals
with your studious incursions toward the pomposity of ants,
nor you, experimental theatre in which Emotive Fruition
is wedding Poetic Insight perpetually, nor you,
promenading Grand Opera, obvious as an ear (though you
are close to my heart), but you, Motion Picture Industry,
it’s you I love!

In times of crisis, we must all decide again and again whom we love.
And give credit where it’s due: not to my starched nurse, who taught me
how to be bad and not bad rather than good (and has lately availed
herself of this information), not to the Catholic Church
which is at best an oversolemn introduction to cosmic entertainment,
not to the American Legion, which hates everybody, but to you,
glorious Silver Screen, tragic Technicolor, amorous Cinemascope,
stretching Vistavision and startling Stereophonic Sound, with all
your heavenly dimensions and reverberations and iconoclasms! To
Richard Barthelmess as the “tol’able” boy barefoot and in pants,
Jeanette MacDonald of the flaming hair and lips and long, long neck,
Sue Carroll as she sits for eternity on the damaged fender of a car
and smiles, Ginger Rogers with her pageboy bob like a sausage
on her shuffling shoulders, peach-melba-voiced Fred Astaire of the feet,
Eric von Stroheim, the seducer of mountain-climbers’ gasping spouses,
the Tarzans, each and every one of you (I cannot bring myself to prefer
Johnny Weissmuller to Lex Barker, I cannot!), Mae West in a furry sled,
her bordello radiance and bland remarks, Rudolph Valentino of the moon,
its crushing passions, and moonlike, too, the gentle Norma Shearer,
Miriam Hopkins dropping her champagne glass off Joel McCrea’s yacht,
and crying into the dappled sea, Clark Gable rescuing Gene Tierney
from Russia and Allan Jones rescuing Kitty Carlisle from Harpo Marx,
Cornel Wilde coughing blood on the piano keys while Merle Oberon berates,
Marilyn Monroe in her little spike heels reeling through Niagara Falls,
Joseph Cotten puzzling and Orson Welles puzzled and Dolores del Rio
eating orchids for lunch and breaking mirrors, Gloria Swanson reclining,
and Jean Harlow reclining and wiggling, and Alice Faye reclining
and wiggling and singing, Myrna Loy being calm and wise, William Powell
in his stunning urbanity, Elizabeth Taylor blossoming, yes, to you
and to all you others, the great, the near-great, the featured, the extras
who pass quickly and return in dreams saying your one or two lines,
my love!
Long may you illumine space with your marvellous appearances, delays
and enunciations, and may the money of the world glitteringly cover you
as you rest after a long day under the kleig lights with your faces
in packs for our edification, the way the clouds come often at night
but the heavens operate on the star system. It is a divine precedent
you perpetuate! Roll on, reels of celluloid, as the great earth rolls on!

 

 

And to start the week on a friendly foot, here is a September picture of me, taken by Slava:

Watch Lady Gaga With Me

I had the privilege of laughing my butt and brain off whilst reading this superb analysis of Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance video by my Italian sci-fi-obsessed, Harvard-throttling friend of friends, Ainge. Her livejournal (holy crap, old school!) is friends-only, so you are missing on a lot of entertainment and a drastic increase in sci-fi writing compared to her political science days. Nevertheless! See below, a minute-by-minute commentary.

can i just fucking talk about how fucking sweet lady gaga’s BAD ROMANCE video is? 0:10 – that coat = coatgasm. the fucking glasses! she is on some klaus nomi shit right here.

0:12 – why didn’t i think of having fucking metallic mesh just hanging on my nails like that? i love you, woman. watching the video in real time, that device she hits looked like some security business. pausing it, i see it’s some kind of stereo control. eh. maybe she is trying to be deep by likening a stereo to a doomsday device. you go, gaga.

0:17 – nemiroff vodka. this is why i decide the dude in this is russian. omg, i could totally spoiler you about him right now but i won’t.

0:23 – cyborg coffin pods, omg. if i ever get a thule ski rack (lol what am i gonna be, some kind of suv-drivin vermonter) i am going to spray paint it to look like one of these.

0:29 – bath haus. hot.

0:40 – spiky latex people. do want. i honestly did not know this about myself until seeing this badass lady gaga video.

0:48 – i do believe she just gave herself anime eyes. lady gaga, you are a vision in soft peaches and cool greys. i do not know whether to find you cute or repulsive. i like this about you.

0:52 – that spazzy fingertapping. hot.

0:59ish – the spiky latex people are amazing dancers. it’s like a creepy german new wave broadway musical.

1:05 – first crotchgrab. lady gaga, you are so naughty!

1:23 – rape chic motif begins. i wonder whether i could possibly be critical of lady gaga.

1:32 – see what i mean, latex and jazz hands.

1:50 – lady gaga is being forcibly drugged with what i am assuming is nemiroff vodka, out of a glass that looks lucite. she looks italian in her close-ups.

1:59 – oh, androgyny, you get me every time.

2:03 – lady gaga is wearing the most amazing shit i’ve seen since morrigan in dragon age. she is covered in a diamond chainmail of sorts. it is equal parts baroque and outer space and i am quite taken with it. it is the living dream of every girl who looked up at a chandelier in some italian house and was all “i want a dress and coordinating mask made out of that shit.”

2:15 – lady gaga is emaciated and in prison.

2:17 – but look at that glittering rose epaulet right there.

2:20 – i think this is nemiroff. i wish viggo mortensen was playing his role, but sadly he would never be in a lady gaga video.

2:22 – work it, gaga.

2:26 – i believe she just tugged some air wang, also known as the beataff gesture.

2:33 – seriously, someone’s nonna has her entire headpiece as a fruit bowl somewhere in burnaby, st-leonard, woodbridge, etc.

2:37 – holy fuck it’s not nemiroff, it’s darth malak! and gaga is going to get on his junk.

2:40 – gaga apparently also shakes it in prison.

2:42 – HAIRLESS CAT WITH METAL TEETH. cute and horrifying, much like la gaga. the best villain pet, ever.

2:45 – oh shit he just turned on LOTS OF LAPTOPS. which look a lot like my shitty hp. lady gaga has been sold, presumably on the russian internet.

2:58 – i am not going to shit up this glorious dance sequence with pithy commentary.

3:04 – lady gaga is being presented in an ethereal cage of fishing line and lucite diamonds to the gayest, hottest-looking russian mafia ever. note rosary shoutout at 3:03.

3:06 – PRESS PAUSE AND LOOK AT THOSE SWEET SHOES. all the villain ladies in the next major sci fi series must be issued these shoes.

3:15 – oh, hey there cross. and hello sign of the cross inspired dance move at 3:18. yes, she went to catholic school. she appears to be picking up where madonna left off on that front.

3:21 – that is the most badass lingerie ever in the most badass lingerie fabric ever: metal.

3:25 – don’t you just wanna bronze her for posterity? also, shoes.

3:32 – and now gaga is on some vivienne westwood maria-from-metropolis shit. she is positively encrusted in rhinestones and those shoes are so absurd-hot. i think this is the point where the haters get all “lady gaga looks like a drag queen” because they can’t deal with the fact lady gaga likes to deal in gender superlatives.

3:45 – bearskin train. with head. i have a good feeling about this. this gaga is going to avenge all the alternate futuristic implied sexual slavery gagas.

3:50 – looks like darth malak nemiroff (a hunting man) is ready to play. his vodka on the rocks is like 90% rocks. douche. oh ho ho, gaga’s gonna get him.

4:03 – the dance sequence is as slick as the glossy parkade it’s being filmed in. i like the part where she pounds the ground with her fists.

4:13 – i wish they got a hotter guy for this.

4:15 – yeah, press pause. gaga, pg-13 naked, and those two taxidermies.

4:17 – lights on. lady gaga is the closest thing i’m ever going to get to hot sci fi porn.

4:18 – YES SHE’S SETTING HIS PLACE ON FIRE. guess what my favourite part of waiting to exhale was?

4:25 – how fabulous is that red thing?

4:26 – enjoy your moment, gaga. revel in it.

4:29 – my point about the german new wave broadway musical stands.

4:41 – saint gaga, posing with her handiwork. press pause, print this out, and just worship it.

4:50 – the mood seems more festive now that malak has been defeated.

5:00 – post coital, except she gets her kicks setting the dude on fire. she then enjoys a cigarette and the sparks emitted by her nipples.

Winter Slang. Real Talk.

The time has come and I bestow upon you an injection of new fun words to spice up thy drone speak. Shake it up, add festivities! Thanks, trendcentral!

Gen Pop
n. term used to describe the general population when “bridge and tunnel,” yuppies, tourists or “undesirable” individuals “intrude” upon an event, outing, club or local restaurant
“Did you see that girl on the dance floor wearing purple Uggs? Wow, the gen pop really takes over this place on Saturdays. Let’s go to a dive bar.”

G.O.M.L.
v. acronym for the phrase “Get on My Level;” said when one person both wants to imply that someone else can’t keep up and wants to urge them to catch up
“C’mon, pot bellies are totally in. G.O.M.L., and order some chili cheese fries.”

Cuddy
n. a word used to describe something shady or sneaky
“He’s still listed as single on Facebook, even though they have been dating for, like, three months. That’s so cuddy!”

Curl
v. a new way to crop your pants without cuffing; best for skinny jeans, curling is when you roll the bottoms of your pant legs very tightly two or three times, creating a delicate cinch above the ankle
“If you wanna show off the studs on your boots, you should curl your jeans.”

Guacamole (Personal favorite!)
n. money, cash, or funds
“If we’re going to that bar, I’m gonna need to stop at the ATM to grab some guacamole for drinks.”

Post-Zuckerberg
adj. term used to describe the era of Facebook ubiquity
“In the Post-Zuckerberg era, I never email anyone, well, except for my gram and when I’m trying to dig my way out of funemployment.”

 

PS. In other news, my left foot is infected and quite swollen and I wish I had minion to tug fruit and vegetables up the stairs. I’m extremely lethargic from all the antibiotics I’ve to take.

PPS. Previous thematic post: Summer Slang, August 12

Slow Art Toronto

I want to tell you more about Slow Art Toronto, taking place on Saturday, October 17, at the Art Gallery of Ontario at around 11am. I’d like you to join me. Art viewing starts around 11:30am (I know you like your sleeps ), lunch and discussion starts at 1:30pm.
The event is “Slow Art” and it’s designed to help all of us perceive art in a new way – to exercise our seeing, thinking and listening muscles. I see it as a springboard for newbies to art, and a discussion board for those familiar with the art or design world. Considering that, on average, a person spends 8 seconds (!) looking at an artwork in a museum, challenging someone to devote between 10 and 60 minutes to a work of art may lead to unexpected art discoveries. This October, there are slow art events happening all over the world. Boston, Copenhagen, London, New York, Los Angeles and more. I’m thrilled to be hosting the Toronto one! Register here!

Slow Art was originally started by novices in NYC to invite other novices (and connoisseurs) to come, to feel welcome, to not worry about what experts say but rather to take the time to see and explore what is possible when gradually viewing art. It’s a perfect opportunity to see what one can discover with a few guiding paragraphs and considerable amount of time.

Having gone back to my art history training and theory, I’ve pre-selected a collection of interesting pieces; I will be emailing those on the Slow Art TO guest list soon.

I’m looking forward to hearing what you think about the pieces you see, and I’m excited to meet you all. If you know of others who may find this interesting, please extend the invitation.

Some Summer Slang For Ya

TrendCentral sent out a new set of hot wordizzles for us all, and I thought I’d share ze love.

Real Talk
n. This phrase is used to highlight that whatever is being said is the actual truth and not the rose-colored variety. One of the most famous users of this expression is v-logger Mr. Chi-City, who tends to drop the phrase every few seconds.
“Real talk, I was so hungover, I slept next to the toilet, real talk.”

Social Notworking
v. Checking your social networking pages while on the job.
“I got caught Facebook stalking by my boss today. I hope he doesn’t get mad I was social notworking.”

Gypster
n. A person who dresses like a hybrid of a gypsy and a hipster.
“There were hoards of gypsters at that Fleet Foxes concert afterparty in Echo Park last night.”

Shress
n. A tunic or shirt that is scandalously worn as a dress; the term has come into use because of the trend of girls leaving the house without a vital component – their pants. (And we’re not talking about mistaking leggings for pants; we mean the bare-legged girls that seem to be just wearing an oversized men’s shirt.)
“Can you believe she wore a shress to school? She looked like she just came from a slumber party.”

Epicocity
n. A word used to describe just how epic (i.e. awesome) something is.
“Did you see Tony jump out of the tree into the swimming pool? It was totally stupid but I gotta say the epicocity level was 10.”

DT
abbr. This strictly means “down to” and originated in the land of texting. Like other phrases that begin at the thumbs of teenage girls, DT has migrated into actual verbal conversations.
“Do you want to go shopping tomorrow?” “DTGS”

Berry
n. A term used to describe a member of the opposite sex.
“See them berries sipping on martinis? They look ripe for a picking.”

Here is the first part in the slang series

81 Films In 4 Months

Ever since I purchased my MacBook Pro, thus starting fresh in the world of personal computers, I set out to manage my data properly and responsibly.

After organizing my files, I set out to expand my media vault. Below is the list of films (in alphabetical order) I have acquired over the past 4 months; some – dearly loved, others I have never seen (or even heard) before. My collection is significantly populated with art house/independent films, and I love it.

What do you say?

1    2001: A Space Odyssey
2    400 Blows
3    A Short Film About Killing
4    A Woman Under The Influence
5    Aguirre, the Wrath of God

Placebo Works Better

Placebo is the best band in the world in my opinion, and it’s one of the most underrated ones. I’ve been an ardent fan of theirs since about 2000, if not earlier (maybe not as long as No Doubt’s, but I stopped loving No Doubt the moment Gwen started whoring herself out). Not only is Brian Molko a handsome fox, but he’s also got quite a big mouth. Oh yeah, and did I tell you he wears make up since 12? A man open about his sexuality, quite a novel, especially back in 1994.

I missed their concert in Vancouver back in 2003, and that made me incredibly sad. But I won’t miss any more concerts, especially since their 7th studio album, Battle For The Sun, is set for release on June 8, 2009! Go download the title track for free, right here or straight from this post. Now I would like to shut up and instead share my favorite Placebo tracks with you. Even if you never listened to this British band before, now is your chance. Click on the link, and you’ll be able to download directly from MediaFire.

• Special K – the slow, acoustic version. Special K is also my nickname. I could barely find the mp3 second time my computer died, and I have since then copied this track in many locations so as to never lose it again.
• Without You I’m Nothing - dear Mr David Bowie, Molko’s friend, has done a swell job here.
• Every You, Every Me – Who can ever forget this track from Cruel Intentions?
• Haemoglobin – first sentence: “I was hanging from a tree / Unaccustomed to such violence / Jesus looking down on me/ I’m prepared for one big silence”
• Slackerbitch – I used to really love screaming “fag hag whore, looks real cute, her lips are sore” during this song
• Running Up That Hill (Kate Bush cover) – simply beautiful, just as good as the original!
• Twenty Years – I’d say this is the song that marks the shift to more grown up material
• Protect Me From What I Want – really a sad song; I’ve grown to think that it has to do with a craving for drugs, thanks to this song painting a bleak vision of our world… or some part of it.
• Nancy Boy – a Placebo classic! Eyeholes in a paper bag / Greatest lay I ever had Kind of guy who mates for life / Gotta help him find a wife
• English Summer Rain – poor L-town. It’s a fun track when you’re on the run or hating Londinium
• Meds – it features VV of The Kills, not that I’m familiar with those, but nevertheless. “Babyyyy, did you forget to take your meds?”
• Blind – I find this song pretty romantic, poignant and utterly emotional… Sob sob sob
• Pure Morning – ok, this is on here because that’s the first Placebo video I’ve ever watched and my first comments were, “wtf, what a weird girl!” Then I inquired further, and everything changed.
• **New!** Battle For The Sun – the title track from the upcoming album!

On Talking Fast

Last week at work a young handsome man of African descent told me that perhaps I should speak a little slower. He said something about 50% slower. I shrugged it off, and said that people can actually adjust to a fast pace, especially if you’re making crystal clear sense. It’s definitely easier to adjust to a faster speech than an accent or incomprehensible blabber; worse yet, it’s incredibly hard to understand a poorly constructed or illogical dialogue.

Now, I’ve looked at the Introduction to the Confessions of an Advertising Man by David Ogilvy, and guess what: “I advised the reader to restrict himself to ninety words a minute in television commercials. It is now known that, on average, 200 words a minute sells more of your product. Pitchmen in open-air markets know this, so they talk fast.” (p. 17) That was in 1988. Twenty years later, I’m willing to bet on 300.

Why am I likening myself to television commercials (obviously, the effective ones)? Because I see myself as the product. My own self. A Brand. Those of you who know me personally (and not), know exactly what I am talking about. I am selling myself, and it usually works. In addition to talking fast, the mind has to be going twice as fast, as I’ve to come up with punchlines, think about possible objections or answers to questions before you get to formulating them. Most of the time, it’s intoxicating to listen to a fast speech :-p My thinking doesn’t stop when my mouth stops. Imagine what a blessing it is when writing exams and papers. Wouldn’t you, as my employer, want to have someone who can outthink the sceptics and plunge into problem-solving before the vast majority does?

15 years old again

Here is how it is: I laugh at the audience of preadolescent gals – or adolescent? Heck, let’s just say, tweens, – frenzying it up for some teenage vampires. Oh, and I don’t even know what the movie is about, and what sort of hilarity we are destined to see. And hilarious it is. Except that on the 55th minute you rapidly start swaying towards the gentlemanly Edward Cullen. Later on, one clues in that no 17- or 25-year old would ever act so nobly; it takes approximately 100 years to figure out how to treat a woman (girl in this case) right.

And yes, I remember how I used to love, love, love Anne Rice’s novels (that, last time I checked, still held the top of mind place in consumers’ minds), and vampire Lestat, and vampire Armand. I gave up on all of that. Ad then True Blood sucked me back into it. And so did the Lancome Piha Black lipgloss over their red lipstick a la Louboutin sole of a shoe.

And then this Twilight thing came out. I don’t mind admitting that I appreciate Robert Pattinson’s exterior, thank God for our same-agedness. If he was a tad bit younger, I would have to reconsider. All right, Edward Cullen, take me away! I am, too, a fan of Debussy’s.

PS. This review made me laugh so hard, I nearly had to rush to the washroom. Bagels, doom, and proletarian demands. I say, get them while they’re young!

Lusting After Truest Blood

Those who know me probably know that I don’t own TV and don’t watch television series much. I do have a thing for Heroes (and am enjoying season 3), and I enjoyed Arrested Development. The new show on the block that I got sucked into is True Blood (oh yeah, recommended by Hans yet again!). I’ve always been a fan of vampires (heck, I even went through that whole stage in high school!), so this is fun to watch. Bill Crompton, ze vampire, is always interesting to watch.

Alan Ball, who was behind Six Feet Under, created this series. Only five episodes have been aired so far, so you can catch up on SideReel or Surf The Channel. The show has got violence, humor, Southern cliches, and lots of (sometimes rough) sex. There are also a lot of evil humans, hilarious characters, accents that stick with you, and a whole lot of other goodness.

It’s a lighter show, but definitely worth it if you want to some lighter entertainment with a supernatural twist. Plus, Anna Paquin is cute!

Oh yeah, and as a marketer, I must point out several sites that revolve around this show (which I think are great tools for solidifying loyalty to this series). LoveBitten is the human-vampire dating site, and there is also the official webpage for Tru Blood, which is what vampires drink in the movies if they want to keep their killing practices on the low. If they do, when they do.

Snippets

The Watchmen trailer is out. The Dark Knight broke the opening night record. It grossed around $155 million on the opening weekend.

* * *

I had a great weekend – saw professional tennis (Toronto is currently enjoying its Rogers Cup), some of which included Nadal sitting in the middle of the court and posing for cameras. We concluded that Nadal should instead do what he born to do, and that was tennis, not modeling.

I also played video with Jeremy for 7 or 8 hours straight! Unheard of! I felt a little guilty for spending so many hours completing quests and such (we played The Simpsons Game), but on the other hand I’ve never done things like this when I was in high school, which seems to be the universal prime time for these activities.

When I was in high school I never spent hours watching TV or playing games. I did chop up fashion magazines for my collages, I wrote stories, took photographs with my 35mm camera and developed them, read tons, had tea with friends, did my homework and generally kept myself busy.

Actually, the one thing I did do at some point in grade 11 (fall 2002) is wake up around 7am – and sometimes 6am – in order to play Warcraft III before going to my first class. And I vividly remember how I would wolf down the pages of American Psycho as I waited for the game to load.

On Batmans

Jeremy, Ian, Elia and I went to the 12:50am screening of the latest Batman affair. It nearly sold out, too.

Right after I purchased my advanced tickets at work yesterday, I announced that I was going to spoil the movie for everyone in the office. Obviously, that was a joke. My coworker took it to heart, however, and seriously uttered: “You better not spoil the movie!” I said: “Yeah, yeah, I better NOT indeed” in a manner that was rather saying, “what are you going to do about it?”

It’s a great movie – it’s intense, dark, shocking, unrelenting in the distance it’s willing to go. Very effective.

But there is nothing to spoil! Don’t tell me you don’t have the slightlest clue on who’s going to get caught, who is going to die, who should die, who doesn’t die, who ends up worse than before. In fact, everyone ends up in a worse state than they originally started with. I thought of Prisoner’s Dilemma when the movie ended, although the two are not directly related. The only way I’d spoil things is if I outlined particularly effective action scenes. But I wouldn’t do that! :-p

Go see it in IMAX if you can. I probably will.

PS. Yes, Joker is amazing. Amusing fellow, in fact.