Love canada

Love Canada. True story. They have huge bear heads on their buildings.

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Saw that one movie

Yup. It was a movie. And I saw it. It wasn't great, but it was entertaining. Thought provoking? Some might say. It made me think- but there's very little that doesn't make me think. What sort of thoughts? I'm not sure. In this case, about movie making and the relationship between actions and character. It's a movie about bank robbers and the drama surrounding that lifestyle. I feel like Boston is the new Philadelphia. I refer you to The Departed, Mystic River and the Fighter. The second set of movies really just includes the Rocky movies and Philadelphia (Tom Hanks and Denzel). So me saying Boston is the new Philadelphia is really just me saying, 'I have weird thoughts about movies'.
So what did I think about while watching this movie? First- about movies. This movie is basically a far-fetched action movie masquerading as a heist film with an oddly hollow romantic aspect. I remember reading about how romantic movies in the last ten years have failed to develop relationships. There's no real reason why the romantic leads are together, it just sort of happens because they're the romantic leads in a movie and everyone knows that they're going to be romantic together. I should probably watch some older movies in the 'golden age' of romantic movies. I should give a shout out to A. Molina and Lark for putting on Gone With The Wind, but I didn't actually watch it. I mostly just thought about how that would fit into my plan to assess the difference between 'golden age' romance and modern romance vis a vis the relationship between movie romance and real romance. So- props for watching good old Scarlett and Rhett and reminding me of the 'dearth of fleshed out romances in modern cinema'. Can't remember who wrote about that, but I do remember it bothered me. So anyways. The Town. What should I say about it? I feel like there's some expectation that we all should have something substantive and amazing to say about everything. I'm not sure where it comes from, but it's the source of all these people taking notes in church that they'll never read and all these self important blogs(including this one) and the cluttered book stores full of eight million books about nothing or how to do eight million things in a hundred different ways. I was listening to NPR's Fresh Air today, and that Supreme Court Justice who was on Larry King Live was talking about his book. I remember one of the blurbs from Larry King- 'More Americans know the names of the three stooges than three supreme court justices.' You think? The three stooges' names haven't ever changed and there are only three of them. At my last count(wikipedia's last count) Elena Kagan is justice number 112. What are you trying to prove by saying that more Americans know the names of the three stooges (there's actually four, Wikipedia just told me)? It's obvious and completely irrelevant. Nevertheless, there it is on the scroll at the bottom of the screen for us all to ooh and ahh about. It'd ridiculous.

Ridiculous. 2 Years ahead of my time and what does it get me?

I just had to share this video. My favorite part has to be the bicycles. One of the rappers is pressing one towards the end. It really just confuses me, to be honest. I fully expected some hipsters to start playing bike polo or something, but it never happened. Oh well.

An Interesting Life:

Having passed through the gateway into the second quarter of my life (albeit two years ago) I take the time to review the last quarter of a century as seen through my eyes. Mind you, this introspective piece is actually inspired by a recent comment to the effect that I am an awful story teller. While this is a title that has plagued me for most of my life- I had not heard it for quite some time. The shock which this reintroduction of old themes presented caused me to question the origin of my particular brand of storytelling, which some might call lame but that I refer to as awesome. I've narrowed it down to three possibilities. One- I've led a drab, dull life full of fake stories. I went to war, only it was a fake war. I went on a 'blind date' only it was a fake date. I do 'extreme' sports only I'm not quite on 'the level'. I got hypothermia only it was just 'moderate' and not severe. I've got scars, but they're from lame things like holding onto a hog for castration, close encounters with house cats, and an unfortunate trip to Deer Valley. I'm not necessarily complaining, I'm just offering it up as a possible explanation for my paltry story telling ability: I simply don't have any good stories. This explanation doesn't really satisfy, however. The second possibility is that I just have an awful, quirky memory and I can't remember the right details to remain relevant to my story telling audience. The third option is that I'm just oblivious and I don't remember the details because I never processed them in the first place. I'm just naturally slow and so the fast paced events that should be a good story go unnoticed, whereas the lame, slow events get recycled over and over again.
At any rate, I needed to write something down and see if anyone has something to say about it. It being either my life or my story telling ability. My head's spinning, there's been a lot going on lately. Just trying to wrap my head around it and drive on.