mould countin'

carla and i braved the chill last night to go and watch a movie together. she wanted to see Passion of the Christ, but being jewish (ie a christ-killing-type-person) and not a big fan of movies with dialogue conducted solely in dead languages (aramaic? latin? subtitles? you're not serious.) or , particularly, of crucifixion, i was not really in the mood. carla was pretty determined (and i'm somewhat of a pushover) so it was somewhat fortuitous that it was sold out (incidentally, so was oh shucks i'm gatvol, which apparently has beaten out the passion in terms of SA revenue, which is very disturbing).

so after a lengthy discussion in which i summarised every one of the 11 other movies on at the multiplex (carla also waslooking a bit too hopefully at a coming attraction for a IMAX movie), we settled on Cold Mountain. which has jude law in it. it was a beautiful movie, bittersweet and delicate and perfect, but (and here's the problem), not as beautiful as jude.

the man is distracting. carla and i discussed it after the show was over (our discussion of the movie itself lasted about 45 seconds in total), and the discussion went something like this:

carla: "those eyes"
me:" those lips"
carla:" he's so beautiful. i just kept looking at him"
me:" and that scene when he was asleep, and his face was all relaxed, did you see that?"
carla:" yes, and when he had his shirt off. but those lips, he has perfect lips. i can't believe how gorgeous he is."
me:" i know, even when he's all beardy and muddy and bloody and with gaping wounds, he's still gorgeous. why are real men not like that? why ? it's not fair"
carla:"he's so beautiful. i think i've found competition for johhny (depp. another fave, but i digress). well, maybe not, but they're both tied for number one."
me:"yeah, a johnny jude sandwich sounds good>"
carla:"(laughs)oooooooh, but he is beautiful. those lips, those eyes."
me:" that butt. i was so jealous of nicole kidman-"
Carla:"- during that love scene! i know!"

well, anyway, it went on like this for a while. in the end i decided that he was so gorgeous i wanted to slap him, because it just isn't fair that a man like that exists. naughty man, jude. i think for me cold mountain will always be overshadowed by the jude.

limp bizkit

so, coming on the tail of counting crows (which was brilliant by the way) is a visit by noizemongers limp bizkit on april 4. and i'm going.

i'm a bit dubious at the moment. i mean they cancelled once already, i'm a small person so i will get mooshed, and they have a campaign called "it's cool to be a hater". i kid you not. also, i'm going on 27 in 3 months and am worried that i'll be almost twice tha age of the average punter there. i'm not overly fon of adolescents, especially snotty 15-year-olds with daddy's money and an undesreved attitude. i'm allowed ennui and cynicism because
a) i have actually experienced life and have a right to these amotions and
b) i actually know what ennui and cynicism are and can use them in a sentence without the use of the words "like", "okay" or "bru".

however, i'm certain they'll rock like a mofo, and will duly report back to you.
i have no idea what to wear.

i just don't know what to do with myself.

okay, so it's almost the end of the month.

they told me when i had my interview (see archives under interview blues) that i would be hearing from them at the end of the month. so it's about that time, and i'm beginning to get that nervous, itchy, panicky feeling again.

i've never been very good at waiting. i don't deal with the unknown very well, i'm afraid, and in certain respects i prefer structure and ceratinty- i want to know what's going on, so i can make plans and lists and get organised. i feel much more confident that way, more in control. to me, anticipation is only fun if you know what it is you're anticipating. especially if the uncertainty you're dealing with is long-term. i mean, i first found out about the JET programme over a year ago. (check out atari avatar, my previous blog, if you don't believe me). i started the application process in october last year. i have been waiting to find out whether i'm actually going to Japan or not for a very LONG time, and i'm beginning to tire of the stress.

i just want to know, one way or the other, so i can get organised!

sigh.

i am such a type A personality.

my version of perversion

i think it's time to come clean. the reason i've been so remiss in writing lately is that i've been hunting script. i wanted to find some way of archiving by title rather than by date, an i wanted a script to do it for me. a sexy little script, nothing fancy. i love scripts, especially javascripts, but any script that does something nifty and makes my blog look pro-fesshinnil. look to your right. that dropdown list with all my photos? a script that i found after eight(that's right eight) hours of searching, trying out, discarding, choosing the right one, testing, fixing bugs, and finally applying. same with the scrolling text at the bottom of the screen (you did notice it, right), my calendar, and a whole bunch of other stuff. i can't help it, i love new scripts.

unfortunately, there was nothing that could help me in this case. everything i found was either majorly overcomplicated and required major overhaulage of my site (no. no. no.), or was cool but still in date format. i even asked uri for help. at the counting crows concert (well it only occurred to ask during interval, this was not my fault, i attribute it to the R15 pint glasses of wine).

so, in the end, i did it by hand. look to your right (again). there they are. pretty and individual. dated oldest to newest. hope you like them.

the distillers

if you're only going to buy one cd this month...
it should be coral fang by the distillers. brody dalle sings the way courtney love always wanted to, by way of art alexakis (from everclear). okay, i might be assassinatedby various parties for the previous statement, but it's meant as a compliment and that's my gut impression. but nothing can really describe her voice, which was deeper than i expected and threw me into an envious turmoil. why can't i sing like that? uhm. perhaps we had better move on from that issue.

in any case, having listened to coral fang three times, i can honestly say that it is raucous, emotional, raw and absolutely bitchin'. if you've just broken up with an asshole, or have ever broken up with an asshole, or just have some sort of asshole in your life you need to get out of your system, this cd is the soundtrack you've been waiting for.

plus (and this is a biggie) it's the type of music that women in rock should be making, but haven't been. Brody doesn't try to act macho or girly, she just is. the lyrics are female without being feminine or feminised (yes, there's a difference, read your dictionary), and the music itself just rocks. it 's punk, but it has a tune, and you can dance to it. and by that i don't mean bobbing up and down or smacking your buddies in the nose as you mosh.

okay, gushing aside, i really like this cd more than i have liked any cd in a long time. it reminds me of the "old days", when i was 16 and everything seemed new and special.

beta testing

beta testing
lately i've been obsessing over the graphic design thing again, and have just spent the last half-hour downloading plug-ins for PSP. also i've been scouring the kilo stores for R10 digital photography magazine with free cd's. i suppose it's better than being lost to tomb raider or somesuch, but it's not very good for my eyesight. anyway. i think i'm going to have to build a little website for my designs, link it to the blog, sart scanning in some of my drawings and get creative once more.

at least the graphic design thing i can honstly claim as a talent, not when i decided i really had to knit last year and spent about two months on one scarf. okay, it was a good scarf (nice and long and green) but i had to retsart it about three times. also i think i lost it one indulge evening. which pisses me off.

my new addiction is the brand-new, SA edition of heat magazine. gossip and pretty pictures. oooh. intellectual. i don't care, i have a postgraduate degree and teach at the health sciences faculty so i'm entitled. in fact, it's got that intellectual irony thing going for it. or so i keep telling myself. dammit, its PRETTY! and BITCHY! after years of living off the back pages of you magazine i now have something i don't feel ashamed of carryng around in public. also the snotty remarks in the TV guide alone are worth the exorbitant cover price.

i now have mom and gran addicted too. ha.

timewasting

timewasting
i don't want to go home.

there, i said it. tired as i may be, having made seven hundred and fifty million cappucinos, affogatos, choccochinos and other caffeinated warm foamy drinks, i am still here pying ten bloody rand so that i can languish in this internet cafe with the slightly strange guy working the front desk, writing when i feel mostly uninspired. i just don't want to go home.

the problem with having my nights free is that, well i'm single and i live with my grandmother. she's 76 (or thereabouts) and i'm 26. we're both cancerians (stubborn, illogical, sensitive) but three generations apart. and i'm kind of stuck here for now because i'm leaving the country, (one way or another) in four or five months.

don't get me wrong, i love my gran, she's a cool lady with a good sense of humour and generally she doesn't act like a little old lady. i just would not choose her for a roomate if she was my age. my case:

1) she is an obsessive compulsive neat freak. i am creatively messy (and perfectly comfortable with a little chaos) thus, exchanges take place such as the following...
i put down my supper plate, sitting back contentedly and patting my full stomach. it has been a long day and i am exhausted, but managed to relax a little by cooking myself a nice meal. my favourite television programme is on. 4.7 seconds pass. and then...
"are you going to wash your plate? i'm not going to was it for you."
"i know. i'll wash it after the programme. i only just finished!"
two seconds pass. she picks the plate up and says" i'm just taking it to the kitchen, but i'm NOT WASHING IT!"
"yes" i say, slightly aggrieved now, " i told you i'd wash it once i'm finished watching this programme i looked forward to watching the whole day"
"i know, you just relax"
a few seconds pass. splashing noises follow. she then walks back into the room, and states:
" i washed your plate."
"but i didm't ask you to. i TOLD you i'd wash it after this programme."
"i know, but i got tired of looking at it. i'm not washing the pots and pans though."
"that's fine, ill wash it after this programme that i have not as yet seen very much of."
"you always interrupt MY programmes"...
... and so on

2)she watches way too much sport. rugby. formula 1. cricket. tennis.
and then tells me about it.
i have asked her very nicey to refrain form doing so as i DO NOT CARE but she feels that this is just a ruse or perhaps me being silly and continues to inform me about the commentators' heights, the importance of left over unders (or somesuch), and how sweet that boy is who drives for maclaren.

3) she refuses to watch brilliant or compelling or critically lauded movies on thebasis of their name or genre! claiming, "that doesn't sound like something i'd like." however, if you force her, she usually does.

she didn't "get" american beauty though.

people tell me i'm lucky to live with my grandmother. one (who is a complete asshole as far as i can tell, but nonetheless.) told me that i should appreciate her wisdom and experience. well, she has really good common sense and she's very take- charge and good in an emergency or when you're sick or down. she's a cool gran to have. we get on pretty well.


i just don't want to go home.

gay penguin

i think i've found the solution to all zimbabwe's problems...
i mean, nothing could be worse than robert mugabe... so if a gay penguin could replace bush, why not a crackpot despot with no sense of sanity. um, i know, to some of you they're the same thing.