caption: "I'm sorry!"
worst movie i have seen in i don't know how long. five minutes of complete boredom followed by some random piece of violence followed by ten minutes of boredom...rinse, repeat. it was like being jabbed in the eye with a dull spear...dulled from stabbing so many eyes accross the nation.
only the second time in my life that i tried to fall asleep during a movie.
top ten things that apocalypto taught me (besides the 'fern gully' moral):
1) human sacrifices are gross.
2) jungles are dangerous (in the most deus ex machina ways imaginable.)
3) mayans can run fast...all of them...except the women who only give birth and cry.
4) scalping is gross.
5) mayan balls are gross.
6) impotence is funny in all cultures.
7) mel gibson likes gore.
8) throat slitting is gross.
9) jaguar mauling is gross.
10) mel needs police officers in front of him to say anything of interest.
music you say? how about something from the isles?
fionn regan. put a penny in the slot.
i know what you're thinking (maybe)...an irishman with a guitar, time for sadness. not so! in addition to having my favorite name in the world, he posseses a sort of folky, wag your head side-to-side, joy--mixed with a bit of sadness.
i don't often quote other talented music writers, because they make me look like a public school kid (wait...), but this write-up on fionn is fantastic:
"Just a boy with an acoustic guitar. Not a man: a boy. A lad. A kid. And it's a very subtle thing that makes a given boy-with-guitar a something-special. Something I can't quite put my finger on: something about character and wit and voice and lightness of touch. Something about, it seems to me, corduroy and jeans, bright apples, brick, pussywillows and the colour green. What separated Elliott Smith from ten thousand imitators? Dylan from ten million? It's hard to say.
But I kind of, like, genuinely think Fionn Regan might have it. It's not the guitar-playing - though he's truly capable. It's not the voice - though it's got a bluebottle ring that recalls The Weakerthans' John K Samson. It's not just the lyrics - though these make me think of John Updike. It's all these things, and none of them. It's the way he is meditative without being slow; wry without being clever; sad and glad. I can almost, actually, imagine Elliott Smith doing a music like this - had he not been so deep in his own sorrows, had he been a little more indebted to "Eleanor Rigby" than "Dear Prudence"."
i suppose i could just crib Sean at StG again, since that's where i heard this track. hmmmm....i really recommend that you check out Said the Gramophone...it is one of the most consistent mp3 blogs out there.
wow...that was probably the easiest blog ever. i should always just make fun of movies and plagarize the music stuff.
i'm pretty bored a lot.
tomorrow is my bd. hm.