It’s been a slow week here at Chez Tanya; my husband has been attending our local music festivus, SunFest every night, and I sit home alone, a music widow. I call the thing ScumFest, and have been about three times in the 25-year plus cycle — to see Rickie Lee Jones, the Indigo Girls and Steve Miller. I have weird taste. Deal.
Yes, I could go with him, but he gets in for FREE, and I’d have to pay about 40 bucks and then buy food and liquour. So, thanks but no thanks. Plus, it’s hotter than Satan at a barbecue down these parts. Oh, did I mention I have a job interview next week? Wonders never cease.
But this week, I actually read a book in one night and watched a movie in two. Because all 11 people who come here (I count the hits) are foreced to read my ramblings, sit back a spell, and enjoy a two-piece and biscuit.
I special ordered from the library (don’t you just love the library? it’s FREE!) Yvonne Prinz’s The Vinyl Princess.
I love reading young adult novels, and still have my almost-finished one sitting on my hard drive. Will I ever get the writing bug again? Time will tell. But as for this one, I was interested because it was about a teen who works at a record — I said RECORD store, and the writer herself has an interest in founding Amoeba Records in Berkley. If you know me and my husband, you know we’ll never pass the opportunity to browse a real record store, if’n we can find one. In fact, we have one here in town, called Confusion Records, and I know the owner, who is nutty, eccentric, and was with us when we saw this dude get killed at a David Bowie concert, but I’m digressing…
This was an extremely READABLE book, as I finished it in just a few hours. It did have that hint of music snobbery, and hey, I guess I have that to some extent, just in a different direction. It gave me hope for my unfinished writing, as it tackled cultural things I had tried to touch on but was constantly told by critique groups not to. So, suck it critique groups. I like a biting, acerbic main character/voice, and this book had one. My only complaint was that it was a little directionless, and I felt not much happened or was at stake when all was said and done. Some peripheral characters got rather short shrift. Oh, and I love retro music as much as the next guy, but I also love retro pop and funk. Just sayin’.
I also watched Flight of the Red Ballon, a film by one of my favorite directors, Taiwan’s Hsiao-hsien Hou. His films Millenium Mambo and Three Times are two of my faves from the 2000 to 2010 decade.
This is sort of an homage and an expansion of The Red Balloon, and I caution you, not a lot “happens,” it is more of an observational piece. Funny how I don’t mind that in a film, but I do in a book. Regardless, if you have the patience for this kind of film, you will be enchanted by the young actor playing Juliette Binoche’s son. He has a natural quality, and yes, my ovaries were tingling.
I will go on the record right now and say: I truly appreciate Juliette Binoche when she is in films in her native language, such as Blue, or this.
But when she’s in anything speaking English, I think the material is beneath her. Please, if you have seen the absolutely EXECRABLE Dan in Real Life, tell me: Did you puke in your mouth like I did? That sack of putrid shit is the worst thing I’ve seen since I climbed out of the womb. I’m serious.
Well, I do go on, I know. I wish I could be one of those blogs by the pretty girls who show pretty pictures of pretty things and don’t write much, but sadly, I’m a mouthy broad and I have things I need to say!
I also won about $50 on my horse at the Derby today, so yeah me. Mama needs a new pair of…something.