|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
thursday, september 30, 2004
i said to myself at about nine this morning, "i simply must finish this book and it must be done not a stroke after 11.30 but for my interview."a mere 976 pages, about 300 of which were read in the past twenty four hours! walter disappeared on page 343 and ah well, won't you have to read to find out what his full tale relates? it's just so heart wrenching, sad and delightful when all characters grow and change and are never to return to childish figures we all knew and loved so well.
my heart falls into my hands.
oh that i should have finished it now. whenever i finish a book in this manner i am absolutely confounded as to what to do with myself and usually prefer an interim of mourning for the loss of my dear friends whose lives i have been a part of for years and years as it would seem.
but not today, for i am off to the interview. cannot languish in angst like some of us (mr dombey, you know of whom i speak) like to do.
oh! bye-the-by, "i can safely say i have some strange memory of this book which i am beginning to think it compleatly not real."
oh ho.
how wrong i was, thank GOD i remembered something from this book. i was beginning to wonder.
bring to close, this the 10,000th journal entry of this septemember the 30th.
p.s. please to note and be amused by the fact my diction for 2.5 seconds takes a step up after i have been wholly engrossed for the past several hours in dickens. har.
p.p.s. oh my god, what am i going to read now?
suddenly i was @ 12:49 pm
the reason i am so suddenly to wakefulness is as follows:
evidence my dickens and lj dependencies have gone too far.
i read a hundred or so more pages of "dombey and son" last night until it became past four am, when even the stoutest and most dedicated of readers' hearts know it is much too late for anyone who has an interview the following day and i had to set the novel aside.
i tossed for a bit and when i finally fell asleep i had this dream.
in it, i was reading and watching (it changed in and out through the dream) "dombey and son."
what a stretch.
it started, this is compleatly of my fancy mind you and unless i am conjuring long lost memories of the novel itself, has nothing to do with the actual story for those of you who get up in arms about spoilers, with florence and walter getting married.
the ceremony was taking forever and for whatever reason the priest had taken it upon himself to write down every word of it in the most fantastically complicated calligraphy ever conceived by man. f... five minutes later... l... five minutes later until it spelled out "florence" for example.
everyone at the wedding was yawning and it was very humorous.
finally the time for vows came and it was made known since, apparently, walter took some issue with his surname and florence was ready to be devoid of hers, the couple had created a new name they could take on and that name was: loverby, pronounced, loverbee, which i found (and find) enormously cute. walter gay loverby and florence dombey loverby.
HAR.
from there the story sped ahead to after their wedding and florence and walter were walking on a beach talking to each other.
"did you enjoy 'the cat'?" florence asked.
"the cat?" responded walter.
"the book i sent with you."
"ah, yes, of course. i read it every night and would still had it not been lost when the ship went down."
florence nodded and the two continued to walk along the sand and little crabs ebbed along the water.
"you seemed very distant just now," florence ventured to observe to which walter thought for a moment before answering.
"my mind can't seem to stop wandering now."
a phrase which was accompanied by an ominous sort of music (are everyone's dreams scored? mine are), which made me think, "oh my god, this is part sayyes put in lj asking if it forebode badness- oh my god, i think it does!"
then florence took walter's hand and in a manner only beautiful seventeen-year-old dickensian females may, told him in so many words, she was there for him when his mind wandered and would ever by there to bring his mind back to shore, to her and their love.
walter leaned his head on hers and they walked on, the wind blowing.
the scene shifted upwards to a mound of dried sea squalor where an ancient old woman was walking along, muttering madly to herself in a, for lack of better description, dr. claw like fashion of "i'll get you gadget!" saying something along the lines of finally pulling one over mr. dombey.
from there, it was scene change. a dark door was opened onto a twisted little servant, who lead the unseen guest to a dark room, where he opened upon a very wizened mr. dombey, now confined to a wheelchair (who knew?).
all around mr. dombey were cobweb clad ghosts who were pulling at him and moaning.
again i thought, "sayyes said she thought the ghosts were fake looking, i think they're all right."
mr. dombey wheeled out to the open door and before he could say anything was pushed down some hole in the rotted floor by the servant and guest, presumably to his death.
whereupon, the story ended.
at this point in the dream i was watching a miniseries. i backed up and thought, "that was a rather dark ending for dickens." i then hit rewind and thought, "i have to tell the lj people about this!"
i started to creep from my room to the computer when my parents caught me and asked what i as doing up at such an obscene hour.
i tried to convince them i was just rewinding my movie and even took up the cover to prove it. the cover was a red, white and blue cover with a picture of mr. dombey on it which read - this is the best part of this dream- "warren beaty's dombey and son."
warren beaty!? the hell?
then i woke up. not just "woke," but WOKE. foregoing any middle ground from sleep to wakefulness, i was wide wake.
i sat in my bed thinking, "that was odd," and "i can't believe i finished the book then dreamed about it."
as i sat there i started to think, "that was a weird ending to the book, i wonder what happened to mr. toots?" a moment more, "and mr. carker and edith, they never explained that part, or the secret that happened with his brother and sister... and what about sol gills? i can't believe he was just dead."
then i realized, OH HO, WAIT, nothing had been explained because i had actually NEVER finished the novel.
dur.
i am such a sick person. a. i dream up something this side of fan fiction concerning a dickens novel, b. this is the second dream in just as many weeks i have dreamed about people i've never seen on lj and c. my dream suggested in my references to sayyes, i had dreamt about this alternate-universe story before and i think i have.
i thought the ralph and nicholas nickleby having livejournals dream was bad.
anyhow. i had the most amazing urge to read my own dickensian story, but now that i am alive and fully aware i have not, in fact, finished my book i REALLY want to go and read it some more.
walter!
i can safely say i have some strange memory of this book which i am beginning to think it compleatly not real. i thought i knew something about walter, but, no. in which case, i have a great ending for some book where someone disappears for years at a time on a ship.
oh, speaking of walter, here is yet another image of our (woo! eight members!) beloved walter gay, whom i MUST update you on, if you guys are curious.
in the meantime, to the dickens book robin!
suddenly i was @ 09:11 am
yeah, like i could possibly put this book down now.
gently dabs eyes.
suddenly i was @ 03:32 am
tuesday, september 28, 2004
i got an email today about a job position for some lame advert. i answered in the newspaper some three months ago. the only problem is i have no idea what the position is for anymore as i've applied to twenty or so more thousand positions since.in other news, courtesy of sayyes, we have another image to add to the walter gay fund (see last journal entry). now the rest of you, get hopping.
yesterday was my mother's birthday. it was a rather quiet affair. i gave her some books and we went to a movie together. my dad gave her the no infamous gift, surely to go down in my family's annals of greatest-moments, a ladle.
a ladle.
my mom opens the gift sits for a moment and then says, "ok, who didn't go shopping with dad?"
the plan was for him to pick up a gift certificate.
he comes home with a ladle.
a ladle.
anyhow.
i saw "sky captain and the world of tomorrow" yesterday. i absolutely adored it. i went to show my support for the animation industry as basically every component other than the actual actors of the film were animated. it was great. i haven't been so visually entertained since "moulin rouge." it was wild to watch, every frame was like a photoshop piece and the screenwriter (and director too in this case) must have had a hay day writing the story. not only was it in and of itself over the top, but the mister exposition dialoug slayed me.
someone: it's you! how did you escape!
person: well, once the countdown began, the robots began to board the ship thus leaving us a fifteen minute window of time wherein we could steal this hovership, override its auto pilot setting, rescue the other prisoners and find our way to you miraculously in the nick of time, just when all hope was thought lost!
it references everything from star wars to indiana jones and ANYTHING which gives props to "the wizard of oz" (a homage darling of modern day flicks) has my love.
for anyone who enjoys old thirty and forties films, or even the old "rocketman" teleseries, it's a kick. the acting was fabulous. paltrow was hilarious and jude law was made for the part. my only complaint is the film never quieted down for four seconds, but in truth, in doing such, it was adhering to its targeted genre, so it's not something which hurts the film in anyway as much as it is a personal complaint from yours truly.
i am loathe to say the movie would have been as good without the amazing visuals, but i'm not certain. it surely wouldn't have been as fun, but the writing was clever enough and knew the material it harkens to well enough (and like "moulin rouge" you can't have insane visuals coupled with heavy story, it just kills the mind), it was balanced on all ends i think.
the movie ended and i thought, "hmm." i left the theatre and thought, "that was good." by the time i got home i just adored it. the film has appreciated nicely in my esteems, which i hope is the mark of something special and unique.
FOR YOU'S ANIMATORS:
or just fans of animation, which ever, someone has to tell me: i swear to god the iron giant of the (under)famed film, "the iron giant" was in this movie. i could be on crack. it could be all metal giants look the same to me, but! i swear. someone who is familiar with the film has to go see, "sky captain" and tell me if it's true.
when dex, polly and joe are in the flight hanger with all the different robots, in the distance one looks just like the iron giant, this idea is further enforced as the three characters stand talking about the robots right next to a giant robotic hand, which! - as i am certain you fans will recall- looks awfully similar to the giant robotic hand hogarth has to deal with when it becomes separated from the iron giant.
it could just be me, but i swear it's a shout out and if indeed it is, this movie went from fun and good, to absolute genius.
i love the iron giant.
ar. i have to run.
suddenly i was @ 04:35 pm
monday, september 27, 2004
the cousbian and i took it upon ourselves to create artwork featuring our love, walter gay.first, walter by cuzz fuzz.
i'm certain the cousbian didn't mean to imply walter himself "sucks ass" but GOD ONLY KNOWS what happens on those boats out to sea, so i will leave that to your own descretions.
and mine. and because i need help, i composed a little song for the picture. it goes to the tune of "hey ho to the bottle i go" from the first installment to the lord of the rings series.
now i think all of you should contribute artwork. come, you know you are just procrastinating now, why not add to the fun? then we can have a BIG themed art gallery.
suddenly i was @ 02:28 pm
sunday, september 26, 2004
i guess i have twelve new pages of script. too bad i have no idea where to go next. chil'en readers, i will have to friend you and see if i can make screens work so perhaps we could have a cri-tiki-tiki session sometime around thursday? let me know what you think.
last night i had the strangest dream. i was back at school and living in the dorms. i was living with my friend alice who currently attends vassar. we were just moving in, organizing things and it was late at night. there was a very tall boy who was some friend of ours who kept stopping in and a girl i knew in my old acting class, shanna, kept bursting into our room with one of her friends.
alice and i were very annoyed because a door from the hallway which lead into our bedroom wouldn't lock, so anyone could come inside (this was discovered when a boy named bless, who really was my neighbor a year ago, opened the door, cried out, "oh" then closed it again).
i went and did the rounds in the hallway to find someone who might fix this matter when i bumped into alice and the tall boy. they said, "come here, come here!"
i followed after them, went down the hall and through a door which opened up into a huge antechamber.
apparently the dorms were a part of a business building. we stood on a landing of sorts, which looked over a large lobby with a marble floor which lined with little stores like you see on the ground level of most corporate sky rises. to the side there was a grand staircase leading to the lobby.
above the floor and over the landing there was a huge domed window. huge! it was almost like this with this much space.
outside you could see the stars and bits of snow falling and tall buildings twinkling in the night. i still couldn't see what my friends were excited about, but as i was let further out on the landing and more of the night sky came into view i could see it.
it was an elevated train. it had jumped its tracks.
this train was way high, elevated above even the lofty building we were in, its front car hung over the crushed roofed-stop. its head lights shined brightly. it looked like the polar express.
everyone talked, saying things like, "i knew it was going to happen, i just thought i would be on the train."
"there's no way the tracks are going to hold."
the tracks were old and made of wood. the train groaned and lurched forward. you could hear the crowd cry out. suddenly the tracks gave and the train came down, falling and falling, crashing through the doomed window to the marble floor below.
everyone stood in shock. i was saying to alice, "come on, we should see if anyone is alive."
we ran down the staircase to the lobby. inside the train wreck you could see mangled bodies and blood. there were two living people on the floor, two men, who looked like guards. alice and i approached and asked and the men if we could help. the one who was closest to us yelled at us to leave, there was nothing for us to do.
alice and i reluctantly turned to leave. no one else was on the floor trying to help. we could see people in the train twitching though, so we turned back, but the man redoubled his screaming and we left. while walking back up the big staircase, i looked back. the screaming man was all alone and he was crying over the train.
suddenly i was @ 04:54 pm
saturday, september 25, 2004
here is the first line of the new story.
FEMALE VOICE (V.O.)
- Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together - Be calm - love me.
Granted, those words aren't mine, they are Ludwig Van Beethoven's (in English) but, it gives you a taste of the whole thing I suppose.
I have about 10-15 pages. Still no names for anyone, but I am entertained. I have no idea where to go from here.
suddenly i was @ 02:17 pm
i must admit, perhaps it is living the slow and slovenly life that i currently am, but this interest rally for dear young gay gives me a merry kind of pleasure. i do hope he returns soon. i will keep you posted, for i know you too are all very, very concerned.
my question!
i know you were all waiting for this one.
brainstorm with me, would you? i need famous romantic names. not romantic as in "romanticism," just general names which are often seen as being related to romance.
ie: romeo and juliet.
what other names of this sort are there out there?
look forward to hearing ideas.
and now? i am off to search for walter in the pages of "dombey and son."
suddenly i was @ 02:20 am
friday, september 24, 2004
first, a news breaking item. my email inbox has eight new messages? holy jesus, i think we've broken a record batman.second, i have been containing this thought since about three am.
POOR WALTER.
news has come that the son and heir, his ship, has been wrecked as pieces of the vessel were seen off shore. poor captain cuttle is in a tissy, florence doesn't know and god only knows where the poor boy's uncle is. do we believe it though?
NO. walter is coming back. i know it. i am certain of it. he will.
thank you, cuzz fuzz, sayyes, hillary and diana for sharing the walter love. when, note i use the term WHEN, he returns, he will be made glad of it. the rest of you, hurry and add his name to your interest lists. he is lost at sea and his boat is shipwrecked and you can't put him on your interest list? what are you, heartless?
in the meantime, let us with mister toots listen to the captain regale the niceties of the young lad.
'Wal'r, my dear lad,' said the Captain, 'farewell! Wal'r my child, my boy, and man, I loved you! He warn't my flesh and blood,' said the Captain, looking at the fire- 'I ain't got none- but something of what a father feels when he loses a son, I feel in losing Wal'r. For why?' said the Captain. 'Because it ain't one loss but a round dozen. Where's that there young school-boy with the rosy face and curly hair, that used to be as merry in this here parlor, come round every week, as a piece of music? Gone down with Wal'r. Where's that there fresh lad, that nothing couldn't tire nor put out, and that sparkled up and blushed so, when we joked him about Heart's Delight, that he was beautiful to look at? Gone down with Wal'r. Where's that there man's spirit, all afire, that wouldn't see the old man hove down for a minute, and cared nothing for itself? Gone down with Wal'r. It ain't one Wal'r. There was a dozen Wal'rs that I knowed and loved, all holding round his neck when he went down, and they're a-holding round mine now!'
oh my god, it just brings tears to my eyes. when will walter ever come back? because HE IS. i can't bear it. i can't put the book down at night for reading ahead hoping the next chapter might yield him up again. i'm all ready half way through the entire thing.
sigh.
walter!
suddenly i was @ 02:48 pm
thursday, september 23, 2004
how to not get a job.by me.
1. get a good education. spend a couple hundred thousand dollars on it and go to one of the top schools in your nation, this will help.
2. work really hard on everything you do. sacrifice social delights, normal college activities and irreplaceable years in the quest to stay home and "further your future."
3. get experience out in the world. get a highly sought after internship at a very large, world known company. this will prove to future employers you can work.
3. be open. be willing to work all hours, all days, at any job.
4. above all else, write my name in bold face writing at the top of your application, this step alone will insure you will not get the job.
speaking of which, i have to go off and not get a job today. i really detest walking downtown and breaking my back for a minimum wage job that is so far off from anything i want to do. not that there is anything wrong with the types of jobs i am seeking. i just hoped for something a bit more. at least when all my friends seem to be getting good field-related jobs.
it's basically come to this: i need money. i don't like to say it, but it's true. one bank account has closed down on me (ruining my credit in the act) and the other currently holds nine dollars. nine dollars. and i can't get bed bath and beyond to hire me, just because for the past four years i haven't worked in retail and surely that means i can never be taught how to run a register- which, ironically, if they would ask they would find out i can do. my most recent jobs have been internships, freelance novel editing, computer tutoring and webdesign but before these jobs i ruled the jamba juice and nordstrom brackets.
it's depressing and just adds to my feelings of general distaste for anything related to myself.
i had a strange dream last night.
it began when i was at a party and jude law was there; but it was more of jude law meets a kid i knew from highschool. this is what i get from going around saying to everyone, "jude law has six movies coming out."
anyhow, he was very funny and kept rubbing my shoulders with his feet, which felt quite good though it was rather gross. then someone came out and started playing, "somewhere out there" from "american tail," the radio version.
highschool jude and i were trying to yell out the names of the artists.
me: peabo- it's peabo... isn't it?
j: benson!
me: and linda ronstadt!
then highschool jude gave me a paper quiz of nonsense questions which i dutifully filled out and returned to him.
the dream then quickly morphed to me being in another house where diana, whom i have never met in real life, was sitting on a couch. i came and sat next to her and began telling her, "i had the strangest dream last night, i was at a party and jude law was there..." describing the dream i had just had in the same dream. she looked over and told me my breath smelled so i left to the kitchen to seek amends.
the kitchen was my grandmother's old kitchen, which i haven't seen in probably close to a decade and my cousin and her best friend were in there watching television. i decided i wanted a treat before i would brush my teeth, but every goodie i found was stale and would turn to dust when i touched it.
then i woke up. at noon. like always. because why should i get up at any other time?
i have also discovered i have a wrinkle in my forehead. great. i am aging and my body is going shot before my eyes.
suddenly i was @ 03:26 pm
wednesday, september 22, 2004
i really ought to to update with an actual write up on my life which is a piece of lard rolled in sawdust at the moment, but one more flippant entry, if you please.
i am very distressed. i am reading "dombey and son" and am loving it (far more than i ever cared for "nicholas nickleby").
i read it once, but it's strange to me how little memory i have of the novel. i am beginning to wonder if i ever read it at all.
anyhow, my point is this:
walter gay.
i can't even tellyou how much i love this character. he is the dickensian george bailey (if george could get any more dickensian). he is young george meets phineas.
diana and diana add this to your book lists just for walter gay's sake.
speaking of the sake of mister walter, i have another favourite to ask, partly to humor my sick fancies and partly to, well scratch that, this is wholly to humor my sick fancies.
i inhale deeply.
in "dombey and son," walter gay has gone missing. he's left on as ship (MUCH to my chagrin) and all the characters of the novel and myself are very distressed because there has been no word from the dear boy.
to show my deep love for his character, i have added his name to my interest list and think you should do the same. if we ALL add his name, not only will walter have quite a support team awaiting his return but i will have something to live for in his absence, because god knows, i feel it all to much in the pages of the book.
so, add "walter gay" to your interest list.
perhaps we can expediate his return to the novel, because in his absence it is just less.
suddenly i was @ 02:01 pm
friday, september 17, 2004
NINE HOURS OF NICHOLAS NICKLEBY-
chaaaaaaaaaa-eck.
hoo-yah. feel the power.
suddenly i was @ 01:31 am
wednesday, september 15, 2004
i have a question.because i am no longer drowning in the artistic community, i am finding it increasingly difficult to forcibly pull a critique from anyone.
i need help. i want to start writing a new script to keep in practice and will need readers.
i need readers who will not only read and say, "nice. oh, and you misspelled cheese," but will act as my surrogate class: providing feedback, critical advice as well as questions and suggestions.
starting in a few weeks or so, every three weeks i would have about 15-25 pages to be read. script pages are not novel pages, so they won't take long to read. i would post or email them to you and would need feedback by the next day or earlier.
just like in a class, you see?
unless you are dying and your skin is falling off, of course.
it would be a commitment only because i want to be committed, if you don't think you can do it, it's ok, no stress.
if i was gainfully employed i would offer a stipend to these readers, but as i am not, however, i can only offer my services to you and say i am in your debt.
if you are in need of a reader for your own writing, can do. need help with web design, photoshop, random drawing tips- i can do those things too! just have to ask.
heavens, if you all want to write, we can be a PRETEND class, that would be even more awesome.
i don't really expect much response and it will probably be me and my cat doing the reading, but i wanted to try asking here.
if i can't gather a good number of readers, i will fly solo.
suddenly i was @ 04:45 pm
tuesday, september 14, 2004
har. i just finished the fourth hour of nicholas nickleby (almost halfway through!) and i can now tell you why it is nine hours long.me: are they really going to do the WHOLE thing?
and they did!
me: well i suppose this is the royal shakespeare company, it's what they do.
but by and by, things seemed off- and more off until...
as casey said, "here's kilter, there's [this play]."
juliet (waking up): what's this? romeo, dead?
romeo (bolts up): no, not dead!
juliet: not dead?
me: not dead?
romeo (paraphrased): no! betook i from a dram of purported poison and so swooned to a likeness of death, but it was not so and now i am restored.
juliet: i too am not dead for i too drank from the selfsame dram!
romeo and juliet embrace.
from there on out i realized the nickeby cast were adhering to all the dickensian theatre sponsors, who requested dancing and music etc.
everyone came back from the dead, except tybalt:
juliet's mom: oh tybalt!
juliet's father: but moments ago we thought half our kin were slain, leave tybalt where he lain...
the infant phenomenon was well, phenomenal as romeo's little sister... but my favourite moment was when benvolio confessed he was a woman.
benvolio: that i, benvolio am benvolia!
then it all broke out into a musical and everyone and sang and danced- as the shakespearean play really should have ended, you know, on an up note.
anyhow, i thought it was funny.
back to the miniseries.
suddenly i was @ 11:37 pm
in other news:
i also actually like nicholas.
nicholas.
the actor who plays him is very good, though, though...
(moment to ponder)
he would be better as kate.
ironically, kate in this version would do better as nicholas.
nicholas is a fiery young man. he's arrogant and proud, but not to a fault- and quick to emotion. this is how i imagined him, how he is presented in the 1947 film and the 2002 film. dickens himself had a note in the introduction excusing the fiery nature of nicholas' character.
the nick of this production is very quiet, less prone to bursts of passion.
he's more of a pip.
- whereas kate is the opposite. she's a little spit fire, which is odd.
i have to also say, i detest smike. thank god this production is so novel-loyal i won't have to bear him for too long.
at first i credited the actor's exaggerated quirks and speech to the quality of his being on stage, thus, projecting to those in the backseats.
i have come to the conclusion, however, i don't know what the hell he is doing. not only is smike a cripple, but now he also suffers from turrets syndrome and has a severely damaged mental capacity to the point i can barely understand what he is talking about his speech is so laboured.
he also looks like gollum and has his mouth fixed in a perfect "o" all the time.
suffice it to say, i must look away from the screen whilst he is on because he bugs me.
it is now 3 am. i am to bed. i am think over saturated with nickleby, though you think i would have thought that the night i had a dream about both nicholas and ralph having livejournals.
i mean, that's just sad.
notes from the ether to myself
though i afford him with attentions and affections what does he give me in return?
chocolate?
disdain!
i'd keep him if it were chocolate.
compleat indifference. he is neither here nor there, neither inclined or repulsed and i am vexed for it!
mmm chocolate.
for instance...
suddenly i was @ 04:13 am
monday, september 13, 2004
"why, yes i could be available for an interview tomorrow."please "bed, bath and beyond," support my efforts to move and apply for grad school.
sigh this is almost sad, but thanks to the collection agency and being negative hundreds in the hole, i really need any employment.
suddenly i was @ 02:46 pm
friday, september 10, 2004
suddenly i was @ 11:48 pm
i felt quite good about myself, until i was reminded i am still jobless and have zero monies to do anything. then i reverted back to my feelings of self-worthlessness.
my family is in new york right now. i really had hoped i would be there as well, but you see, it's hard for people with no money to go anywhere and even more difficult for people with negative no money. so instead i am the queen of my domicile and herder of all small animals. it's like me in chicago, except with a house, not a studio apartment, minus social life and work but with tiny poodles.
here is a list of a few things i would like to see accomplished today:
mail glasses/letter/script things
email chris: film?
email john: script.
get shampoo
get de sica film
craft store (?)
finish illustration
eda website
read script (weekend perhaps)
also, while we're getting de sica, we can, WOO HOO apply at the video store. this though, i suppose, can wait until monday which is official job search day. i will see how my hair feels before i decide.
good hair day, apply. bad hair day? monday.
this "get income" thing has gone from something i "should do," to "absolutely imperative to my existence." at first i was hoping for a creative job- HA- but that is a dream which clearly will not be fulfilled any time soon. i need some funds for plane tickets and school applications stat.
anyhow, such are my plans for today.
i was going to watch my 9 hour nicholas nickleby miniseries, but much to my chagrin i was only able to get the second half of it yesterday. i am very distressed by this, for it was only the second half. the first half comes in on tuesday. i put it on reserve and in an attempt to destroy my karma for the next month i checked out the second half. it wasn't a vindictive act at the time, but later i realized: ho ho, when whoever comes to return the first half, they won't be able to get the second half as i have thieved it from them!
what am i going to do in the down time movie wise? i have already rented all the nicholas movies available.
except for the animated one...
in other news, i want to introduce you to walter gay from "dombey and son."
walter is the nephew of a shipping sort of tradesman. while at work he discovers florence dombey, a pretty little girl and daughter of his employer, who is los.
walter takes florence to his home where she can be safe with his uncle Solomon while he informs mr. dombey his daughter has been found.
"Thus, when the boy [walter] returned, she was sleeping peacefully.
'That's capital!' he whispered, giving Solomon such a hug that it squeezed a new expression into his face. 'Now I am off. I'll just take a crust of beard with me, for I'm very hungry- and- don't wake her, Uncle Sol.'
"No, no,' said Solomon. 'Pretty child.'
'Pretty, indeed!' cried Walter. 'I never saw such a face, Uncle Sol. Now I'm off.'
'That's right,' said Solomon, greatly relieved.
'I say, Uncle Sol,' cried Walter, putting his face in at the door.
'Here he is again,' said Solomon.
'How does she look now?'
'Quite happy,' said Solomon.
'That's famous! Now I'm off.'
'I hope you are,' Solomon said to himself.
'I say, Uncle Sol,' cried Walter, reappearing at the door.
'Here he is again!' said Solomon.
'We met Mr. Carker the Junior in the street, queerer than ever. He bade me good-bye, but came behind us here- there's an odd thing!- for when we reached the shop door, I looked around, and saw him going quietly away, like a servant who had seen me home or a faithful dog. How does she look now, Uncle?'
'Pretty much the same as before, Wally,' replied Uncle Sol.
'That's right. Now I am off!'"
i remember absolutely nothing about this novel. this is not uncommon with me; my favourite stories about forgetting novels are with "lord of the rings," of which the only things i could remember from the whole series was bilbo's line about feeling like butter spread across too much bread and sam's pots (ring? who, who, what, what?) and david copperfield, which i only remembered a tiny scene of child david picking up shells on the beach.
with dombey and son all i can remember is this phiz illustration and that's it.
still, i believe walter experiences some angst in the story. can't remember what. maybe he doesn't. does florence end up pregnant on boat?
this is my memory: i make UP stories.
needless to say, with walter here, i just wanted to point out my obvious fascination for the young rapscallion.
i have three types of characters i am drawn to, really.
as modeled by walter, phineas, pippin, the artful dodger, george bailey e.t.c., the most prominent figure in my fancies, is the young, impetuous upstart with a fast mouth and sharp wit to match who usually tends to be humorous (sometimes humor alone can carry a character por moi, see papageno and nick bottom). in my first script this figure was kip.
then we have the depressive, obsessive, longing figure as modeled by such people as pip, ben (from the graduate), hamlet and werther. in my first script this was felix.
the last and most infrequent character fascination is the bitter regretful figure- most recently on this list being ralph nickleby.
i wonder what this says about my own personality make up? what do you think?
what types of characters are you guys drawn to?
suddenly i was @ 11:11 am
wednesday, september 8, 2004
the other night i watched nicholas nickleby from 2002. i remember fearing it when i saw it advertised as in recent history i cannot remember a very fabulous dickensian adaptation. can any of you?
i have to say i was not so horrified as i was prepared to be. the story had its shortcomings of course, it's the plague of adapting huge novels into a two hour film. there were some lose ends, some characters floated off into the nethersphere with out closure with the audience, but unlike other modern adaptations (ie, "david copperfield" starring harry potter) and least this film made a conscious effort to include what they could, while at the same time trying to construct a cohesive, balanced story.
the "david copperfield" film just went through the motions of each scene, trying to insert in every last detail, with the dreaded voice over to fill in the blanks.
and that, my friends, is not enough.
the opening of this film was very cute. i am inclined to point this out as i am all about sending out props to such things which require a bfa to be created. it was a miniature paper, puppet theatre displaying the characters of the story, accompanied by the required merry stringed quartet music which is an absolute must for any dickens film.
the credits were impressive, the few i noticed right away were jamie bell ("billy elliot") alan cumming ("x2") and jim broadbent ("bridget jones's diary").
this cute little puppet display was followed by a narration. "oh holy jesus," i started, "the voice over. it's like they think these stories can't be done without one."
it quickly became evident, however, it was indeed a narrator (v.o.'s are given by someone within the story, narrators are outside the story) and they were setting up the whole film as a storybook tale, starting with the entire history of the nickleby family.
"once there were two brothers..."
which was a bit charming and matched the fanciful nature of the puppet theatre shown only moments before.
during the opening they established the film's three big themes/metaphors. the themes were of love (in the first five minutes mister n. nickleby tells his young son the goal of life is to find love) and parenthood (family), which was demonstrated by nicholas senior loving his family, then dying; a point strengthened the on-going visual metaphor of birds. the visual in this case being the a dead mother bird who lies in the grass below a tree while her babies are left abandoned in a nest.
just to let everyone know, as i think only diana can vouch for this with any amount of certainty having seen evidence to prove what i am about to say, i have a fetish for birds in writing.
so of course i was please to see birdies.
the bird metaphor was continued through as nicholas, his sister kate and mother made it to london to find his uncle ralph. i don't know where ralph lived, but the furnishings were delightful: pinned birds on the wall, stuffed birds in cages and displays of eggshells.
at this point nicholas is 19 years of age. it's distressing to realize i am now older than nicholas nickleby. i can only balm this injury to my ego with the knowledge the actor himself is actually older than i am. i always imagined nicholas a good blond, but in this film he had some sort of branagh hamlet peroxide issue going on (at least so i thought until i found out his hair is indeed actually that blond, go figure) and was just this side of a victorian mullet. nick also looked liked the love child of val kilmer and draco. if he walked into my office asking for help ralph, i too would have been doubtful, "what are you doing here surfer-dude?"
here is a fun fact about the actor who plays nicholas: have you guys seen "cold mountain?" he's the creepy albino villain.
join me in my chorus of : yeeeeew.
i digress.
nick's procession to dotheboy's hall is expedient. jim broadbent is fabulous as squeers, he's one of the best performers in the film. little wackford is so cute, it's wrong and mrs. squeers is even more terrifying than her husband. all together, creating the nasty, horrific atmosphere of the yorkshire boarding school.
question to those who have read the novel (sayyes and... odile perhaps?): what is ralph's connection with squeers?
it was about this time in the film nicholas first starts praying to his father. the loss nick feels for his deceased parent is upped considerably for drama in this film.
fanny squeers eventually comes into the picture as does smike. smike, often forgotten in the novel's text for long periods of time really comes into his own in for this picture, but i will get to this thought later.
i still feel for fanny when nicholas goes on his little diatribe about how he rather chew off his own testicles (paraphrase, my part) than become close to her and her family. it was incredibly harsh. she is just a silly girl, nick. it's not her fault her parents are evil just as it is not your fault your mother rambles almost as incessantly as i do (in the book at least). a simple "no" would have done well enough. just one of the many reasons the character of nicholas nickleby annoys me.
here were his exact words from the film: "Perhaps my mouth should say what my eyes have not. I have scarcely seen the lady three times but should I have seen her 30 or 30,000, it would be the same. I have not one thought, hope or wish connected with her unless it is part of the picture I keep in my mind of one day being able to turn my back upon this accursed place and never to think of it again with any feeling but loathing and disgust."
speaking of quotes, i would like now to quote exactly from my treadmill notes now. in very large scrawl it reads: "WHOA-HO-HO ripped nick!" and is underlined several times.
yes, probably the most ingenious bit of comedy inserted into this film was nick's physique. nicholas is dressing in the morning with the rest of the school boys when he is interrupted by the squeerses. half dressed, he confronts them when they demand to know where smike has gone to, and let me tell you: this boy was ripped. pecs so hard they could, in the chill of yorkshire's air, take out an eye (squeers'?), washboard stomach, chiseled shoulders- it was great and SO true to the victorian lifestyle.
i laughed too hard.
it continued to amuse me when mrs. squeers couldn't seem to stop starring at his chest and said something to the point of: we will despoil your beauty.
smike in fact has run away, but he is swiftly found again.
i would like to take this time to praise jamie bell. i think he is a fine young actor. he did a wonderful job with smike. in the novel, smike has his few moments, but for the most part he is ushered to the background, compleatly forgotten and after a hundred pages or so, just when i would begin to wonder, "where is smike?" he would appear again to remind everyone he was still in existence. this film condensed as it was, was able to take all of smike's big moments and really bring them to the forefront of the story so he actually figured in as actual main character.
is jamie bell actually a dancer? his legs in "billy elliot" would seem to suggest likewise. the attention paid to his body language in this film is really superb, i wouldn't be surprised if he was a dancer. i cannot for the life of me figure how he was able to walk as he did (smike is a cripple) and not injure himself.
ah, indeed he is a dancer. i have watched
if you see this film, watch bell. even when the camera is not directly on him he is acting his part. every scene, even if he is clear in the background, he has smike looking longingly at kate.
bell is excellent and my favourite part of this film.
i am going to put you on hold a moment as i go to a doctor's appointment.
elevator music.
back. i have a question. can one's pheromones suddenly spike rendering deodorant somewhat useless in terms of freshness? because mine has quit on me two days in a row here and now i am worried about my welfare, am i forever to reek?
readers: t.mi.
back to nick.
nick and smike, not without a strangely dramatic smike beating (did they have torches in the novel?), escape the dastardly squeerses and make their way to liverpool (read: what used to be portsmouth) with the aid and fundage of mr. browdie (played well by kevin mckidd who was tommy in "trainspotting").
it is during this trek they come across a traveling group of thespians, headed by one, mister crummles played by... nathan lane?
i think i honestly screamed my head off, enough to be informed by the people a floor (or two) above me to, "shut up."
i am wary of american actors taking up roles so decided english (as dickensian parts are wont to be) but lane really perfectly matched the look and feel of the part. there were some great cinematic moments, ie when crummles invites nicholas and smike to join him for tea whilst they discuss his practice. crummles sits before an elegant hall and praises the acting trade. when nicholas intercedes and the camera cuts away to a wider shot, the elegant hall is revealed to be a rather elaborate back drop, hung from a tree.
there was also this choice exchange betwixt the television and myself.
crummles: you could even write a little for the actors.
nick: could i make a living by such a trade?
me: NO.
crummles, with his new charges, escorts smike and nicholas to his theatre troupe, family and wife played by...
dame.
edna.
yes, there was another rather loud explosion of laughter on my part when she appeared. alan cumming was mister folair, who's biggest addition to the film was the running-joke of his thwarted efforts in highland dancing. the theme of love was again brought to light whilst nicholas and smike watched a stage show.
nicholas, obviously battling some father complex, brings up his dead parent again and explains to smike how his father instilled in him the belief the purpose of life is to find love.
nick: but i am now nearly 20 and i have not found it yet!
me: you and me nick, you and me.
and my chances are less as i am not a ripped victorian val kilmer-draco english man.
nick and smike are indoctrinated into the theatre, via that other friend of ours, shakespeare, when nick appears as romeo and smike as the ... oh the word escapes me... attendant fellow (apothecary?) and are received well.
p.s. i. need. nick's romeo outfit.
this scene is matched and followed by kate attending the theatre, which by screenwriting parallel chance, is performing "romeo and juliet," (which is an excellent play, by the bye, to have going on in a film whose one big theme is finding love).
kate has suffered gross insult since nick's wild and crazy adventures began. ralph, for what reason some one must explain to me, subjects her to the company of lord verisopht and his villainous associate, mulberry hawk, whom was much older than described in the novel, but for a good reason which i will relate in a moment. hawk lusts after the much too young kate. word is sent to nicholas and he takes leave of the actors to come to her aid.
after nick makes it to london, the nick nicklebys sever ties with ralph and move on and out to a little house out of the way. there is a edited scene somewhere in the middle of these proceedings i am certain, because it is at this time ms. la creevy rather randomly appears as a landlady.
i am going to stop my mind wandering for just a moment here to ask people some questions i harbor.
a. what are my dogs barking at?
b. what does ralph feel towards kate? she is the only one who is wont to give him moments of disquiet, yet he goes out of his way to make her miserable. is it all a displaced effort to do harm to nicholas? i don't understand.
in the film he even had a weird line about kate, something along the lines of: "she's very pretty. this house would be hers, how pretty she should make it."
what? he was to give her his house? he's going to leave it to her? is he a pervert? is he speaking of someone else whom kate reminds him of?
it vexes me. anyone with theories, if anyone has read this far, please share.
nick comes to work for the cheeryble brothers and the love theme kicks into high gear. smike is obviously head over heels for kate and follows her everywhere, nick becomes familiar with his intended, madeline bray (played by sweetly anne hathaway, because there are no english actresses available for dickens) and kate meets with the seriously under characterized (right up there with mrs. nickleby) frank cheeryble.
it took me about 10 thousand years to recognize timothy spall as charles cheeryble.
me: he plays a mole or something in something...
20 minutes later.
me: oh my god, it's wormtail!
again more scene parallels are made. kate talks to nick about finding love.
k: you will find love nick.
frank comes up and kate (unbeknownst to us and herself) finds hers. meanwhile, smike sits in the corner flabbergast. at this point in the film bell has come to fill the sean "sam" astin shoes, in that everything he does makes me want to cry, even just looking at him.
also, right about here the most genius bit of plot condensation occurs; mulberry hawk becomes the role of arthur gride in the novel.
in the novel, gride was a lecherous old man lusting after young girls while mulberry was a loud, arrogant don giovani type of man. put them together you get film mulberry. old, lecherous, loud, arrogant and rich.
it was superb and a great move to get the plot to hustle onward.
me: that's why he was old!
mulberry, scorned by the cold shoulder given to him by kate, is enticed to seek madeline bray's hand in marriage by ralph (whose prime objective, again, is to annoy nicholas) and of course, madeline's withering, evil father gives his permission.
all the while nicholas is off in devonshire attending to a withering smike. suffering from consumption, smike confesses the deep love he shelters in his heart for kate (and my heart simultaneously breaks) and soon thereafter dies.
nicholas returns home just in the NICK of time (har har) to thwart ralph's efforts again and take madeline away (oh, and conveniently her nasty father dies ala mister spendlow in "david copperfield").
the story rapidly winds down. the film does away with the silly "we cannot love frank and madeline for the sake of cheerybles" complication and moves directly to the climax.
information is made known to newman noggs, ralph's right hand man, about ralph. newman shares it with nick and co, who, in turn all show up at ralph's home, intervention style, to make him privy to their new found 411.
which is...
ralph was once secretly married to a girl who in the film resembles kate (a nice touch i thought). they had a child, a son, who was also kept secret so that the couple might inherit the girl's father's fortune (in the novel the girl was equally a guilty party in this, though the film makes ralph more the instigator of this "marriage made in hell"). the child lived with neither parent and when his mother eloped with another man, was brought to his father's home by a penniless caretaker who hoped to blackmail ralph with the child. ralph would not receive the caretaker, who, in turn communicated the child was dead, took him away from the nickleby home (where he had been hidden in a garret) to the north where he was left at the squeers' boarding school.
of course, you know where this is going, smike is ralph's son.
ralph's emotional deterioration was nicely done, though gone through a bit quickly for my tastes. after extinguishing the lamp, ralph immediately goes for the garret where smike was once hidden. he soliloquizes and as a last act before he commits suicide, opens a window, which is accompanied by the sound of BIRDS taking flight; an accident in the foley room? i think not.
still, people usually wait more than 10 seconds before offing their life.
ralph hangs himself, which made me jump on the treadmill for its suddenness and all was over for him.
madeline and nick and kate and frank are together wed. we are spared linkinwater and creevy's marriage as the latter had no character in this film what so ever.
crummles reenters the scene and the narration which began the film turns out to be his toast to the couples. nick talks to his father and smike's graves. the music begins. the camera pulls out and out and out until nick is but a speck on the screen, but is ready to start his own life for real and the film is over, making for a highly satisfying ending, in my opinion.
this isn't the most genius film i have ever seen, by any means. nor is it the greatest adaptation, but it was far better than i anticipated it would be. the acting was uniformly of a high quality (even on the part of charlie hunnam as nick, who was at times a bit flat) and the writing of a decent sort (the story was adapted by douglas mcgrath of "emma" fame).
as with most adaptations some characters were lacking in development and closure. ie mrs nickleby and ie what happened to squeers?
but at least the choices on what was to be lacking or missing were accurate, good ones (this film is not less having lost mantalini) and at least the screenwriter was very familiar with the story as mcgrath later went on to be the editor of the new penguin edition of the novel.
the film was pretty fun as well. maybe i wasn't as traumatized this time, because by the end of the movie i had walked about 6 miles, but dame edna? come on. that's just funny.
it's about a b as far as grades go, but enjoyable enough that i would say, read the book then watch this, it's better than the newest "david copperfield."
notes from the ether by users of imdb and otherwise:
here is another review less favorable than mine. they seem to miss both mister mantalini and the kenwigs, who, i stand my ground, really weren't pivotal characters when you're choosing major players for a film of only 2 hours long. each to his own, but this person is upset over the loss of the nickleby's vegetable throwing neighbor and missis sliderskew, to which i say, again, dude. 2 hours. go rent the 9 hour version of this story if you want more details. that's what i'm going to do.
warning: this review tends to forget it is talking about a film and oft is wont to drift off discussing the history of dickens' time and dickens himself, who, contrary to popular belief, had nothing to do with this film other than provide source material posthumously.
"Nicholas Nickleby is patterned after Christ's life and through careful analysis the similitude can be easily detected."
the hell? since when did smike "give blood" and "lay down his life for his friends" (as this reviewer goes on to say)? this person obviously knows a different nicholas nickleby than i do.
"This is one of the darkest and most depressing, perverted, bizarre, pointless, meandering, bitter revenge stories ever to emerge as a PG-rated period costume drama."
a. this person clearly hasn't seen such films as "count of monte crisco."
b. and this person wanted ewan mcgregor in the lead.
and this one, ralph fiennes as ralph? hello? just because they share names (even if one can't pronounce it)... no.
ACK.
"Dickens sees Wackford Squeers as being given a real beating (and accidentally being nearly killed) by an incensed if rather over violent Nicholas. In our much more violent world in 2003 do we see this?... well... no, a Hollywood PC Nicholas is a great guy and decides to show mercy to Mr Squeers Esq."
um. as i remember it, nicholas showed mercy in the novel as well. it was mulberry hawk he actually beat within an inch of his life.
i think this person as meshed their characters.
for example, they have this to say about the cheerybles:
"The two twins who 'rescue' Nicholas are very old, very careful, and very thin..."
no they weren't see? they were older, but not ancient and they were perceived to be rather jolly looking if i remember right. gride was the ancient thin man.
they also accuse the film of being thin (which it was during certain moments), but they accuse the film of being such because, "Where is Mr Mantalini?"
mantalini, as entertaining as he is, is superfluous character who really doesn't affect the main story. i would have cut him as well.
"Charlie Hunnam is rather too young for this role (Dickens’s Nicholas is “manly and well-formed”)"
a. did they not see him without his shirt?
b. c.h. was 19 when he played this part. nicholas is said to be 19. there really is no argument here.
"If you choose to read this Victorian novel, (which originally appeared serialized) then I'd also recommend it before you 'labor' through the unabridged novel, which is, as Charles Dickens often is, quite detailed, and lengthy, to say the least."
pa-shaw.
"The movie should not last the entire time it takes to read the book. Also, many have said that the movie is great because Charles Dickens was a great writer, but I am told that he was paid by the word... no further comments on that."
a. if this person can read 800 pages in two hours, colored me impressed.
b. right. i too have no further comment on his last statement. lie. i do. not everything dickens wrote was sheer outright genius, some stories are more flawed than others, but the fact people a hundred years plus later on IMDB are even still talking about him should prove his writings were not just the result of pay-per-word author, but someone who actually tapped into something which might be genuine.
ah, now please to join me as i watch the 30's production of this very same story, followed by the no less than NINE HOUR miniseries, which i must pick up from the library.
hooray.
also, read about 100 pages of "dombey and son" by charles dickens today at the doctor. the last time i read this i was about... 14 or so.
p.s. i started this entry at 10 something am, now it is 9.30 pm!
suddenly i was @ 10:31 pm
tuesday, september 7, 2004
guess what everyone? i just watched a modern dickensian film... and i don't want to poke my eyes out with spoons yet.i watched nicholas nickleby from 2002 while treading the mill for about 6 miles and was pleasantly surprised as i was expecting the worst.
i'll write it up later when it isn't so late.
oh my god, the nicholas actor was in "cold mountain?"
double oh my god. jamie bell is going to be in "king kong?"
suddenly i was @ 05:10 am
monday, september 6, 2004
wee-hee-hoo. i think i have found the issue with the misalignment of st.o. the site now works perfectly in safari (so does the pip site, sayyes, i can fix jingle for you now). you other browsers, give a check for me? tell me if sto is working now?for then you can view such classics as: my self portrait. remember that entry from back in march or february when i was stressed because i couldn't splice my film?
yeah.
or things like when aragorn met arwen, dedicated to
heck, you can even read my horribly disturbing research paper on norman bates (like you would want to), unfettered!
enough.
so today i helped shoot some footage wtih casey.
CLEARLY, i have been spending the past year working really hard on learning how to write shots properly, not shoot them, as i could not for the life of me exhibit any finesse whatsoever with the camera.
casey, my love, i am sorry. you know i can do it. apparently the bfa is already rusting and dying.
me: what happened?
in other news.
casey and i played the old hamlet, ophelia, withnail sims game. we decided the house needed a prisoner, so we built a doorless, windowless, bloody-walled, one room cell (with a toilet!) in the yard and trapped a neighbor inside of it.
we then hid our little "pet" house with foliage and rocks so the main house could continue about its business, which consists of withnail wetting himself, ophelia being mean and not going to work and hamlet only cleaning up after himself while his roommates take to throwing garbage in the yard because they ran out of counter and floor space.
the slight draw back to our prisoner situation is that she cries all the time. through the whole game you can hear her, it's awful.
but we feed her and gave her a toilet, i mean, come on.
casey and i need help.
suddenly i was @ 10:52 pm
for all of those who thought i was being dramatic about caffeine and its affect on me.
anyhow.
GA-lor-eous news. for the first time in over half a year something tookish has a new layout.
every section has been updated. you can see my animations, some storyboards, new artwork, read portions of the scripts i am always going on about... it's all there in spades.
i am paranoid out of my mind the site won't work on pcs.
give me notice in ye old comments PLEASE, if you come across anything, eh?
otherwise, you can totally sign the guestbook if it's all clear sailing.
i won't mind a bit!
and now to bed...
suddenly i was @ 06:32 am
saturday, september 4, 2004
yesterday when the first of the proverbial fecal matter hit the bank one sponsored fan casey offered up this little gem of knowledge: when things get bad, "that's when you get into the tub with a glass of wine."i must make an apology.
to those of you who have only read my little journal texts here in the past few months, please know i am not rightly myself. i am really quite happy most of the time, i've just hit... a very thick, very hard wall which i can see no way to mount at this current time.
but no more mention of that wall! for i can feel it tempt my tear ducts to remember to bathe my face, an action i REFUSE to let occur as i am feeling quite sanguine right now.
about nicholas. this was a good book. took me ages to get through, i think because i could never really bring myself to care too much for nicholas. don't ask me why, he just seemed very bland to me- this coming from someone who relished mister wishy-wash himself, david copperfield.
my favourite character, oh and woe to me for saying this, is ralph nickleby, the odious villain of the novel. now he is an interesting character. what made him so hard hearted?
he breaks my heart. i felt so badly for him. he was a terrible person; avaricious and spiteful, but i don't think he always was as such and obviously something was amiss in his heart as he was (future readers stop reading now as i am about to give away large plot points) driven to suicide, that is to say, he did still have a heart enough to know despair. compleat evil (see bank one) doesn't know despair and loss.
something about his niece moved him.
he was, to coin a phrase, cold, hard and wicked, but deep, deep within him there was still something of emotion left. enough, at least, to make me pity him.
poor ralph.
i personally saw little difference between he and nicholas. given the right circumstances, had he not been chanced upon every instance of good fortune and surrounded by lovely creatures like kate, nicholas, arrogant and gallant as he is, could very well have become a ralph nickleby.
i think ralph's great animosity for his nephew sprung from the fact nicholas did indeed remind him of himself as he might have been in life: successful with friends, family and love, had he not become so blind to these uncoined riches.
nasty things took place in ralph's life to make him nasty. things which preyed upon on his driving ambition and weakness towards greed and brought him to utter ruin.
i say again: poor ralph nickleby!
he is my favourite because i was most moved by him.
it is now five am, i am literately sated and... water logged. so i am off to bed.
i must rest my poor foot. in my angst today i kicked a door and i fear i have done some grave injury to myself and so damaged my big toe.
i cannae a-move it!
so to close, a segment from the files of mister n. nickleby.
i have been saving this for weeks for you readers.
"mystery and disappointment are not absolutely indispensable to the growth of love, but they are powerful auxiliaries. 'out of sight, out of mind,' is well enough as a proverb applicable to cases of friendship, though absence is not always necessary to hollowness of heart even between friends, and truth and honesty, like precious stones perhaps most easily imitated at a distance, when the counterfeits often pass for real. love, however, is very materially assisted by a warm and active imagination, which has a long memory, and will thrive for a considerable time of very slight and sparing food."
suddenly i was @ 06:10 am
friday, september 3, 2004
fun fact about being wanted by collection agencies: did you know, once one bank is shut down due to truant payments, they can call ALL other accounts you have and freeze them as well?
just one of the MANY perks living this side of debtor's prison.
i have been on the phone all morning long. wait. i am still on the phone.
i would like everyone to know:
BANK ONE IS SATAN.
and did i just say that into the phone to the bank one representative? yes i did. i need to know what i spent this money on. i have a rogue charge for nearly 300 dollars that i have no record for what so ever. this charge is the one which put my account into the negative realm.
the bank tells me only the collection agency can tell me what my statement is.
the collection agency tells me only the bank can tell me my statement.
my bank charges to mail me my statement, but they can't add to my already closed account but i am not allowed to "purchase" MY OWN INFORMATION with a credit card. leaving the 5 million dollar question, "well how do i pay then?"
besides, says the bank, that is what the collection agency is for.
40 minutes later.
collection agency: uh, no. we can tell you amounts, but no details. only your bank can do that after all the overdraft went through them first before it came to us.
the manager of the collection agency tells me: yes, they can order my statements, but for them to do that, they have to order them from the bank, then charge me a fee and the whole process takes about a month.
p.s. i have 5 days to make a move here.
this is the usual cycle.
the collection agency tells me to call the bank, i call my branch, they put me through to telephone banking, who send me to account recovery, who send me back to the collection agency.
my branch, telephone banking and account recovery can't tell me anything because they are useless, i mean, because my account has been closed.
so i called my local branch. they weren't able to tell me anything but for this choice piece of information: the last charge they have matches my last record of charges, which GUESS WHAT? doesn't match the amount which sent me to the collection agency.
so WHAT is this charge pray tell?
did i even make it?
I DON'T KNOW BECAUSE THEY WON'T GIVE ME MY STATEMENT, the original of which i NEVER EVER received because my old residence did NOT forward my mail as was planned.
i think i have all but given myself a fever from doing this. i already had my teary breakdown AND i have been on my cell phone for over two hours which will probably SKY ROCKET that bill.
everyone with me: SCREW DOING ANYTHING ELSE WITH MY LIFE I WILL JUST PAY BILLS.
this post has been brought to you by the caps key and bangst one WHO JUST HUNG UP ON ME.
excuse me i just lost it big time on the phone and it front of my sister's main squeeze screaming at the top of my lungs.
well it's official i've been blacklisted, bank one only disconnects me now. i have to go get dressed and walk 3 miles because i am carless to get to my local branch.
suddenly i was @ 01:38 pm
thursday, september 2, 2004
i have been sent to a collection agency in chicago.i have my debit atm card- it expired in auugst. i had received no new card as my GOD DAMN last place of residence decided to not forward me my mail.
now, my account has been closed, i've been sent to a collection agency and i owe a few hundred dollars- interesting since i haven't used the card since OCTOBER or something. how could i possibly owe anything?
well NEVERMIND even considering i have spare money. i had zero before, now i am absolutely a few hundred below negative.
great. oh my god... how am i going to pay for any of this?
suddenly i was @ 06:16 pm
i am looking through my old script. as mentioned a while ago i received an email from my screenwriting teacher (fandbidozi letter by the bye). he had a postscript however, which mentioned keeping my camera directions in check in my writing.
i gasped in horror.
i have never once used a camera direction in all my life.
now i am all paranoid, what did it mean?
i am enjoying reading my old text. it makes me very squeeful with memories.
me every 10 seconds: oh the hotness.
speaking of which, this is amusing, i was talking to my friend jenjen on aim and somehow she got on the topic of her fictitious crushes and was sending me images of jack skellington and the like. eventually she sent me an image of her ideal "supreme hotness," which i immediately had to counter with my own personal ideal.
these are our results.
jenjen: big and stupid. < - - her own words, i assure you.
me: go, go, mo.
needless to say, we laughed ourselves sick. this is how we like to entertain ourselves.
p.s. might have to hit enter again on that latter link.
suddenly i was @ 04:19 am
inhale. i begin again.
my dog. the hero.
the other night my mother was winding down by preparing her outfit for the next day. she went to her dresser and removed a pair of pants from the bottom drawer. she tried them on, decided, "ah, yes" and then replaced the pants back into the dresser, properly closing the drawer upon the completion of this evening ritual.
it was at this time ignatius (of reeky the bear fame) the poodle took to making a most terrific fuss of crying and whimpering.
my mother tried to appease the little dog by entreating him to tell her what was the matter. eventually my father stirred to wakefulness; by this time ignatius had stationed himself by the dresser. perhaps, my father suggested to my mother, there was a fugitive toy under the dresser?
my mother got on to her hands and knees, but to no avail, no toy hid beneath the dresser and still ignatius cried. my mother looked in the closet, under the bed, in the dog bed, but there was nothing around to cause such distress and alarm in such a small dog. finally she stood and looked at ignatius. then she heard it. a teeny, tiny, "mew."
my mother opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser again and out burst mabel the cat.
ignatius: whew.
ignatius saved the tiddy.
take that lassie. my dog is a hero.
i found "a confederacy of the dunces" last night and began reading tidbits again. i love this book. i still cannot believe we named our 1 pound poodle puppy after the main character. i remember thinking at the time, "oi." because what if our little dog turned out like the "born-to-clash" protagonist.
but you know? he kind of did. our ignatius may be more innocent than ignatius j. reilly, but anyone well acquainted with him knows by his fears ie: his leash and fart noises, ignatius is not exactly your run of the mill canine. just goes to show, you really are made to fit the name you are given.
confederacy excerpts.
again i ask you. we named our puppy after this man?
"mother, i must attend to my bowels. they are revolting against the trauma of the last twenty-four hours."
ignatius as the misanthrope:
".. what did the doctor tell you about your elbow or whatever it is?"
"it's gotta be massaged."
"i hope you don't want me to do that. you know how i feel about touching other people."
this is compleatly me in public venues. how awful is it?
mrs. reilly signaled to the bartender, who came out of the shadows and asked, "now what happened to you on that bus, bud? i didn't get the end of the story."
"will you kindly tend the bar properly?" ignatius asked furiously. "it is your duty to silently serve when we call upon you. if we had wished to include you in our conversation, we would have indicated it by now. as a matter of fact, we are discussing rather urgent personal matters."
i can't stand over-friendly waiters, they make me nervous.
this is also me:
"you got a job?"
"ignatius hasta help me at home," mrs. reilly said. her initial courage was failing a little, and she began to twist the lute string with the cord of the cake boxes. "i got terrible arthritis."
"i dust a bit," ignatius told the policeman. "in addition, i am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. when my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, i make an occasional cheese dip."
this is also m- er, no comment.
"i can tell how inactive you've been from your weight."
"i've gained pounds lying continuously in bed, seeking surcease and sublimation in food. now we must run. i must leave this house. it has terrible associations."
on the confederacy film.
i really do hope the film version of this stays stalled for the rest of eternity. i find hope in the fact a brief imdb search yields nothing from the title and i can only find evidence of its existence by filtering through actors' resumes.
i don't want to see this movie made for several reasons, including, but not exclusive to:
a. will ferrell. he's hilarious. i think he's great. he's not ignatius.
b. this is a terribly funny story. very zany. there is, however, also this stray feeling of sadness which pervades the text. like the publisher who wrote the introduction to my novel says, one cannot exactly say where this sense of melancholy springs from, but it is there.
i feel a film version (especially one now a days) would tap into the insane comedy aspects (probably very successfully) of this story but fail to accentuate this undertone of sadness. i mean the feeling is practically intangible as it is and big blockbuster films of today are all about obviousness; but to miss out on this secondary feeling of "a confederacy of the dunces" would be to miss out on what makes it such a great piece of writing.
personally, i think the sadness of the book comes about knowing the author, john kennedy toole, who committed suicide when he was 32. it was his mother who pushed to have his "literary labors" published. i think he was ignatius, at least to an extent. both toole and ignatius were promising scholars and writers, who rather fell off their anointed paths and at 30 both found themselves living at home working menial jobs. toole, to me, even looks like ignatius, sans hunting hat and mustache.
at least ignatius got away, but it really is a tragedy in toole's case.
oh how lucky for us! according to the imdb confederacy trivia section: this film adaptation has been on again off again in production since the early eighties. it has filtered through many studios and producers and is considered to be some what “cursed” as three big actors shortly after being cast or seriously considered for the part of ignatius died. these actors are: john belushi, john candy and chris farley.
looks like we might be on hold for forever, thank goodness. the adaptation is waiting for the right person to come along.
anyhow, i like this book. odile why didn't you like it? sayyes have you read this before?
i still can't believe i have a pet named ignatius.
in closing. this is what i have discovered about myself.
i like humor and when i say, "like" i mean, all of you out there who undoubtedly want to get with me (surely, my whole friend list, dur) above anything else, if you make me laugh, repeatedly and constantly, i will think you're the supreme hotness. my preferred humor? oh, high diction, of course. apparently i like the idea of feeling mentally inadequate whilst laughing my head off.
for those in the know from back in the day, i would say this is pretty right on, don’t you think? or is it a rather feckless hypothesis?
oh my god, it's so late. i have to fill out my own menial job applications. i so don't want to though, i've been immobilized by neurotic apathy.
p.s. cute things. i just went and flopped on a bed where mabel the cat was, i put my head on her like she was a pillow. we were shortly thereafter joined by the poodles. ignatius came and fell down across my stomach whilst bruce sat and licked mabel's face.
it's like living in milo and otis.
suddenly i was @ 04:17 am
