1.Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries. I am, historically, a sucker for Brit period mystery shows and this is even better! It's an *Australian* period mystery ...set in the 20s. What that all equates to is gorg. costumes and men with ridiculously hot accents. Really. It's not a buffoonish Crocodile Dundee sort of accent , it's like a posh Aussie dialect. Very nice.
[A taste...the Series 1 trailer--]
I got so addicted to Series 1 on Netflix, that I could not be patient for Series 2 (which ran Sept-Nov 2013 on Australian TV) to come to Netflix (as it's likely to..eventually) I instead resorted to the seedy stream-whatever-you-want-and-don't-pay-for-cable sites of the internet. OK, "seedy" is maybe overstating it a bit, I mean it's not the black underworld internet with the bitcoins and the whatnot. I did Google my way there. But you can get the PC pox pretty easily on such sites.
2. The Dead. Pretty much nothing happens in this 1987 film, but I found it oddly riveting. Lovely . Poetic.
3.Broken English. Parker Posey does a brilliant acting job in this flick. She really made me feel for her.
4.The Sapphires. Pretty formulaic feel-good film that does its job nicely. Based on a true story...very loosely so, I suspect. I'll be honest: the main draw for me here is Chris O'Dowd. That man is superhumanly adorable. I would watch him
5. Love /Hate Here's a good illustration of how I'm often very xenocentric in my tastes. My sister is just getting into Sons of Anarchy and is raving about it like crazy. "Do you watch Sons of Anarchy? You gotta watch Sons of Anarchy!!!! SOOO GOOD" (this is not verbatim what she sez, but purdy damn close) And I say "Hmm. Yeah." (verbatim) while my internal response to this is "Ugh. Biker gangs. Tacky trashy trashbags. They like the Tazmanian Devil in their decor...leather vests....ewww . No thanks" (this is not verbatim what I think..but purdy damn close) Then I stumble on to Love /Hate on Netflix. Also drug-peddling thugs. No bikes though. Oh, but they're in Ireland. And so I'm all about it.
6. Populaire. I started out this French rom-com thinking "This Romain Duris has a gigantic forehead. I don't know how I'm going to immerse in this story now" (I know, pretty superficial qualms) But the movie's charms won me over. Granted it was probaby superficialities that won me over too...a lot of Duris being hellah sensitive, speaking lotsa Français and wearing nice suits and the forehead wasn't too egregious after all.
SUBSECTION B: Pages.
I am not the prolific reader I once was. I blame the g-damn internet. But I do go through spurts where my book-consumption spikes. I think I'm commencing one of those phases now. One of my friends I worked with quit, put in her last day on 1/6. This is going to sound sorta rotten but...I really missed solo lunch. I used to read through my lunch everyday, and eat alone. Which , objectively, it doesn't sound so hot. But it's what I liked!! And then Roxanne came, and maybe for her first year, we weren't tight, but then when we got to be friends...and....(ok, this is the part where I'm going to start sounding douchey) ..she definitely exerted more clinginess in the friendship than did I. It's not like we just happened to lunch together daily...it was like a SET THING. Oftentimes I just wanted to go ahead and lunch solo without a word but I knew she would've been inordinately hurt about it. I do think most people might be miffed about it (and then shake it off) but she is...a sensitive one. I knew she woulda been downright HURT and it would've turned into like a BFD. Oh, there most definitely would've been sulking. So yes, sometimes I made up fake errands, OK?
Oh hey...I have digressed a skoach. Was just saying that now that I'm lunching by myself again (which OMFG I MISSED) I've started reading more. Now, I do have a little struggle at lunch time, deciding--do I read some more of the current book OR do I go the less noggin-nourishing route and diddle with my phone? But that debate is less irritating than being nearly contractually bound to lunch with someone who pretty much always wants to kvetch about work and their coworkers. And despite being 3/4 self-centered bitch, I do a good impression of sympathetic ear...whilest internally I holler "GODDAMNIT, I'M HERE WITH YOU IN THE 8TH CIRCLE OF HELL, COULD YOU STOP MAKING ME DWELL ON IT????"
So, hands down, the best book I've read lately is "Me Before You" by JoJo Moyes. Certainly a reader's delight in a book is linked to their rate of consumption...like scientifically, empirically, mathe-fucking-matically, correspondent youknowwhatimeanVern? An equation could be crafted. (but ain't nobody got time fo' that shite!!) I had an evening, where I was fully intending to diddle with my phone, but said phone needed to be left alone to charge for a spell. So, I thought...I'll pick up that JoJo Moyes book that I was so drawn to at Target, and I'll read a chap or 2 of that before I commence playing Disco Bees. OK....FF to 200 pages later when I realize: I'm not putting this book down until I'm done reading the whole dang thang. I read it all, staying up until 4 am to do so (okay, technically, my finish time was 3:50am..but then ten minutes was taken to craft my FB post (replete with linkage) gushing about what a cathartic read it was. Oh yeah-- I bawled my fool head off for the entire last third of the book.
SUBSECTION THE 4th: Every Artist Name I Have Saved On My Phone + Visual Aides
I am always scouring the interwebs for art I dig. I have quite a lot of variety in my faves--there's fine art, classic book illustration, pop art, mid-century illustration... oftentimes I save a pic to my computer or phone if it really seizes my interest. Yet if I did that with *everything* I dig, I would run out of RAM (or is it ROM? Ugh! whatevs..) So I have on my phone , in the notes, a running list of artist names so that I remember that I like them and will revisit. There are some big name omissions: Norman Rockwell, or Maxfield Parrish, or John Waterhouse, or Jesse Willcox Smith, Peter Max, Alphonse Mucha ...all these being omitted just because they are such big names I could never forget them or I can't forget them 'cause I've liked them since forever.
Without further explication , my list (illustrated)--
2. Gifford Beal
3.Willard Leroy Metcalf
|He also does a great landscape. I have some winter scene of his as my screensaver on my work computer...*might* be this one|
4.Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida
9.Leo & Diane Dillon
10. David Chestnutt
11.Helen M Turner
12.Henry la Thangue
14.Robert Lewis Reid
15.Frank W Benson
16Albert Moulton Foweraker
17J Alden Weir
18. George Gardener Symons
19.Thomas Wilmer Dewing
20.Frederick Childe Hassam
24. Fred Taylor
25.Sir William Orpen
26. Maximillian Liebenwein
27. Nicole Claveloux
30. Sydney Long
31. Carl Moll
Y'see, it's a damn good thing I keep the list so I can revisit and study. As I typed all the names out (I inserted pics later) I could only call to mind images of the work of about 10 of 'em. I need to bone up...