Filed under: sweet dreams are made of this | Tags: actors, Almost Strangers, bed, British, celebrity, class, critics, directing, dream, movie reviews, Persepolis, Public Enemies, teen pregnancy, We Are Golden
July 31, 2009
Dear Readers,
Last night I dreamed that I hacked into my mother’s bank account with a few of my buddies and old classmates and got pregnant. The pregnancy was not a result of stealing money, although with dreams you never know. My mother, psych teacher, “Juno”, and Bristol Palin have scared me away from teen pregnancy in the last few weeks more than those teen mothers at last year’s ninth grade retreat. The dream didn’t help, especially not when I had to explain to my mother that I was the one who had hacked into her account and that I was pregnant. Luckily I woke up before I had to confess anything.
I’ve taken to sleeping with my mom because there may or may not be bugs sucking my blood in my own bed. I woke up late because I didn’t have psych this morning, and my mom was getting ready to go to work. My mom just bought one of those memory-foam mattresses, and she put a white sheet on it. In short, I woke up on a cloud. I’m smitten with her mattress and its white sheet.
Today was uneventful. I filmed a bit more of the boring part of my video and cooked some fish. Now I’m waiting for my mom to get home from work so we can maybe go shopping and finish the end of the BBC drama I was watching two days ago, “Almost Strangers”.
The majority of British actors always amaze me. Aside from their talent they seem to possess some sort of class that most American actors don’t have. We say “celebrity” and tabloid images pop into mind, but the people who always appear in tabloids are the ones we don’t care about. Who are the actors we really respect in terms of talent? They rarely appear in your local supermarket aisle.
MIKA’s video for “We Are Golden” premiered today on QASHAIsland. I tried to see it but they told me the video wasn’t available. Whether I see it today or tomorrow won’t matter in the long run, I told myself, which is why I’m not freaking out now.
I’ll admit, just now I snuck back to my mom’s bed and lay in its awesomeness. This sentence is all kinds of wrong.
I’ve been reading movie reviews all day, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you can never please a film critic. I have yet to read a review in which the critic really liked the movie. Ruin the movie for us by pointing out all that is wrong with it, thanks. I get that they are “critics”, but now I won’t be able to watch any movie I’ve just read about without a nagging voice in the back of my mind saying, “the plot is moving much too quickly. That performance is way too campy. This movie is too long.” Heck, even on the topic of “Persepolis” the New Yorker says, “The faces are no more than tapered ovals.” That’s the way it is in the comic, I presume.
Sometimes of course it’s true. I will admit that “Public Enemies” was distant emotion-wise. But reviews never fail to make me feel down. I get the feeling that the only good movies for them are listed on AFI’s list, no room for new additions. What happened to the joy of discovering a wonderful new movie? I would describe them as eternally unsatisfied and self-absorbed. Let’s see you make a movie, Mr. Critic.
To be honest, reading these reviews is starting to scare me away from directing. No worries, give me a few moments with my video camera and I’ll be back on track. But for now I’m freaking out about how I will keep my movies from being “flimsily staged” and “unconvincing.”
They can find fault with anything.
Love,
Grapes
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: All Summer in a Day, beads, comment boards, experimental, filmmaking, flower prints, junior, mother, question, shopping, stopmotion
July 30, 2009
Dear readers,
My mother is outside doing her thing because our neighbors just backed their car out - smack dab into our strong resilient minivan. Sometimes being an insurance agent comes in handy.
Insurance agent is just the latest phase, and I’m happy to say, one it looks like she’s going to stick with. Baking, flower arrangements, massage, postman, something close to an Avon lady, my mom’s been through a lot of phases. It would be thrilling trying so many things in my own life, but as her kid it’s incredibly frustrating when she fills the house with flower arrangement foam. Or you open the fridge and it’s full of dough. I only wish it were the other kind.
She’s not bad at any of it either.
Did I mention that I took things into my own hands yesterday and filmed a bit? This has nothing to do with the stopmotion, which is in hiatus until August. I’m waiting to finish this one when Miya comes over, even if she doesn’t know that yet. 
It will a lot of handheld colorful glory, I hope. The parts I did are stark and gloomy. Perfect when you can’t be in it and move the camera at the same time. Yes, I’m in it.
I’d love to call it ”All Summer in a Day”, but that’s a short story by Ray Bradbury that has always stuck with me. I’d love to make another film version of that. We saw one in elementary school but I’d love to do my own interpretation. In any case, “All Summer in a Day” fits so well for the short film that I’m working on. You’ll just have to see what it’s about, but from the tentative title you can probably guess.
None of my short films-in-progress have profound premises or plotlines. They’re more about experimenting with the camera and familiarizing myself with different angles, lighting, editing, etc.
I’m frustrated with junior sections of clothing stores. They seem to offer one shirt in different material, color, and length. And it’s usually a slub top. Or an empire waist, which usually makes people look pregnant. And then, of course, variations of the same sundress. And maxidress.
I love flower prints and beads. I’m in a shopping mood. Can you tell?
Why are comment boards always so negative? There’s always someone questioning the political correctness of whatever they’re commenting on or hating it because of something they heard that may or may not have been correct. The comments on some blogs I read are so refreshing because you don’t see any criticism at all. Yay for nice comments.
I’ll end it here, and since I don’t have any questions to discuss today, it’s your turn. Three questions for me, about anything. I reserve the right to not answer if it’s freakish, of course. You can ask me about myself, about my view on something, or about Cleopatra (although I’d rather you didn’t – ancient Egypt tends to freak me out). But only three, so choose well.
Love,
Grapes
P.S. I really want a beaded vest. Or one with fringe. Beaded is preferred.
P.P.S. I’m trying to wean myself off purple clothing.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: 1960's fashion, Almost Strangers, AMC, Are You There God? It's Me Margaret, Can't Let Go, Christian Northeast, dress up, Dyna Moe, fame, hair, Jamie Campbell Bower, Jimmy Kimmel, Judy Blume, Landon Pigg, Mad Men, Matthew Macfadyen, Michael Gambon, Michael Sheen, Mika, New Moon, period, Six Degrees, Sweeney Todd, Timothy Spall, Twilight, weather, Whip It, Will Arnett
July 29, 2009
Hey buddies,
The weather is cooler than usual today – perfect. For those of you who don’t live in Southern California, that means that it’s sunny not sweltering, and that I haven’t turned on the fan all day.
My Internet is also cooperating somewhat. My day has turned around just as I promised. Which means that I can share a few things that cheered me up today.
You remember when I fell in love with the show “Mad Men” a while back? Dyna Moe has been drawing the most prominent fanart of “Mad Men” and AMC asked her to create a game to promote Mad Men Season 3. You make a character, basically. Just like dressupgames.com. Oops. Did I just reveal one of my old pastimes? dressupgames.com is a good waste of time too, but many of the good games have died. It’s great because it’s 1960’s fashion, hair, etc.
I also discovered a really good artist today, Christian Northeast. I’ll let the work describe itself. I’ve been looking at his website all day and it’s not because my computer is slow. At first, yes. But that soon changed.
I’ll definitely be looking out for his work in magazines from now on.
This one I’ve been holding on to for a while, but check out Will Arnett’s reading of Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret on the Jimmy Kimmel Show. I don’t have a link so you’ll have to do a bit of treasure-hunting, but trust me it is rewarding, even if only for 41 seconds.
Let me make it clear that Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret is one of the most hilariously ridiculous books I have ever read. And no disrespect to Judy Blume, because I grew up reading her books, but Margaret is the personification of why I hated girliness.
She must increase her busts? Writing down cute boys’ names in a book? Ridiculous. Why doesn’t Margaret think about other things? Does she have interests besides breast exercises and males? I don’t recall. Most of all, desperate for her period? The book ended before Margaret experienced her first cramps, before worrying about whether she was leaking or not, before all her friends went swimming and SHE COULDN’T GO. Every little girl who read that had been led to believe that your period is a happy experience. LIEEEESSSSS.
There you have it, awesomeness to last you through tomorrow, granted you have a slow Internet connection and fragile computer. As for me, I’m off to procrastinate on psych homework by watching “Almost Strangers” starring many awesome British actors like Timothy Spall, Matthew MacFadyen, and Michael Gambon. Awesome here meaning they are closely six degreed to Johnny Depp. Huzzah.
Sayonara,
Grapes
P.S. Jamie Campbell Bower, Antony from “Sweeney Todd”, will be in “New Moon”. I don’t know what to say, because I’m disappointed but people have to do what they have to to continue their careers, right? I really doubt he’s in “New Moon” because he’s a “Twilight” fangirl. Boy.
What’s even more confusing is what Michael Sheen’s doing in “New Moon”. He’s an excellent actor, and this seems out-of-character. Not that I know what his character is, but again, somewhat disappointed.
P.P.S. I’m excited for Landon Pigg for being in “Whip It”. He plays a musician, not a far stretch but you’ve got to start somewhere. I was a fan when no one had heard of him and all he had was his EP “Can’t Let Go” (I was addicted to that song for a while) and it’s really cool when you can watch someone move forward in their career like this. It was exciting seeing MIKA get famous, even if it means that 30 years from now when Miya and I go to see his show during the Great California Earthquake it will be expensive.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Arizona Dream, bad day, bugs, comic books, common sense, Emir Kusturica, Ernest, favorite movie, Faye Dunaway, film, grumpy, Iron Man, Jerry Lewis, Johnny Depp, library, Lilli Taylor, movie, Persepolis, Pirates of the Caribbean, road trips, Robert Downey Jr., Vincent Gallo
July 29, 2009
Dear reader,
It started yesterday night, and I had a sneaking suspicion it would follow me to today. I was right. Last night I struggled with last-minute cramming for my psychology exam today, and as the night wore on I grew increasingly frustrated.
Sometimes the more tired you are the more restless you are. I was jittery, my eyelids were twitching, and I couldn’t stop shaking my leg. Not that I couldn’t, but if I had stopped I would have been even grumpier.
Even when I get emotional there’s a part of me that stands back and talks sense. It’s weird, but it’s there, like a mini-psychologist or some other scientific/analytical presence. I’m sure you there’s a definition for that but I don’t really want one. Occasionally ignorance is bliss.
After our exam we were let out an hour early. I had to wait for my ride, who didn’t get out of class until 10. My phone was low on batteries (it’s been acting up lately) and all my friends had gone home. Here I am, sitting alone at a community college. Joy to the world.
Finally, at 10:14, he calls to tell me his car broke down. My mother is not picking up her phone. I sit until 11:44, when one of my mom’s coworkers comes to pick me up. All this with a ticking time bomb of a cell phone.
I didn’t want to write about this, because I didn’t want to label today as a bad day. There’s still half the day left. Things can get better. But I thought, bad days don’t happen too often anymore. This calls for some recognition.
Oh yeah, Miya was supposed to come over but she couldn’t. And while I was waiting for a ride I stabbed my palm with a pencil. It bled, and I clutched it, pretending to have paid the blood payment for the Curse of the Black Pearl. I know. Indulge me.
I watched “Iron Man” yesterday. I know I’m late. Eh, it didn’t really live up to the hype, but it was okay. Because I’d seen the Batman movie first, I kept drawing parallels. That aside, comic plots are often too similar.
Tonight I’m going to watch “Persepolis”. Apparently I’m the first person to borrow it from the library. Borrowing movies from the library is hip, okay? Especially if it’s the Cerritos Library, because you can stop by the Children’s Section and marvel at how awesome they made it. T-Rex anyone? Giant aquarium? Lighthouse? Rainforest? Hogwarts Ceilings? CHECK.
I like the Old World section though, if that’s what it’s called. They made it seem like the library of an English gentleman. Big armchairs and a lot of wood. If I’m not mistaken, even banker’s lamps. I’d have loved to have gone shopping for the Cerritos Library.
Enough fantasizing about the library. “Persepolis”. I’m excited to see it, except that today might not be the day for Persepolis. I feel like watching…”Iron Man”, frankly, but I’m not going to watch it again. Robert Downey Jr. has always reminded me of Johnny Depp. Sometimes when I don’t have my glasses on I do a double take.
Something’s been keen on sucking my leg blood. Taiwan has mosquitos. I didn’t stay in America to get bitten.
I was thinking about impromptu road trips. They are suddenly less intimidating. You’d just travel from hotel to hotel. One day.
Let’s talk about favorites. I was so excited when I realized I had a favorite movie. At the time it was PotC, of course. I wanted to go back and fill out all the surveys I had taken before I had had a favorite movie, as if to scream out, “I love something more than everything else!”
So. What’s your favorite movie and why? I’ll go:
My favorite movie is “Arizona Dream”, a 1993 movie directed by Serbian director Emir Kusturica that wasn’t released in the U.S. because it was too weird. How then, did I discover this gem? First, it stars Johnny Depp. Second, I was very dedicated to my obsessions. Third, Youtube was created.
Every synopsis you will find on the Internet is wrong. They interpret Paul (Vincent Gallo) as Axel’s (Johnny Depp) brother, or some other fallacy, when in fact who Paul is is not important at all. And it’s pretty clear they’re not brothers, just close friends. It would be better to watch it for yourself, and don’t be intimidated by the Alaskan opening sequence. Yes, you have the right movie – the camera will migrate to Arizona soon enough.
What I love about it is how complex it is, and with complexity comes multiple viewings. Not that you won’t understand it with one viewing, but layers and layers will be revealed each time you watch. Take, for example, the mariachis at the end of the film. Did you see them wandering the streets of the town in the beginning, before they were even introduced? I like how it uses fantasy elements without making it “part of their imagination”. I like the irrelevance that ultimately builds up to a heart-rendering ending. Why mariachis, for example? And yet they lend to the atmosphere.
Because life is not full of symbolism, there are things wandering about for no reason at all, which makes this film seem even more plausible. We’re so used to seeing dysfunction on screen in the typical “dysfunctional family”. This movie is dysfunction without “dysfunction”. It’s not “The Royal Tenenbaums” (which I want to see). This film cannot be explained, and what I love about it cannot be explained, but I think that’s part of its beauty. And all of this is without even mentioning the acting. Jerry Lewis, Faye Dunaway, Vincent Gallo, Johnny Depp, Lilli Taylor? All excellent here.
If you took nothing away from that, at least read this: There are flying machines. There are mariachis, gut balloons, flying fish, and Johnny Depp. Go see it on Youtube. Or on tape, if you’re in Europe. I look forward to seeing more of Kusturica’s work.
One of the best presents I could get would be this movie. Hint hint. Of course it’s not available in the US. And it’s only on VHS. No matter, I’ll accept even that.
Love,
Grapes
P.S. Apparently Ernest is a bad-boy name and naming your child that contributes to a higher chance of landing in jail. I don’t think we’ll have that problem with our little paper bag.
P.P.S. I sound mentally ill in the above statement. Remember, mini-psychologist. At least part of my head’s still clear.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Letters From Katherine will “debut” on my sixteenth birthday. There’s symbolism in there somewhere.
I’ve decided to make a fresh start. It’s scary and unfamiliar territory, but I will keep this blog up and running. Some elements will be transferred over and some will be left behind.
Only now do I see how comforting this blog has becoming. The colors themselves make me feel safe. I’m really sad to be leaving it behind in a few weeks, but I have to take that first step to move forward, right?
I’ll leave the eulogizing until then, but enjoy the last couple of weeks here. We’ll go out with a bang! Darn, now I’ve set a really high bar for myself.
Filed under: Dr. Frank, Uncategorized | Tags: bank robber, dentist, Dr. Frank, fanfiction, Ghost Town, Norther Winslow, treasure
The sky had completely darkened when they reached the town Norther had set his sights on. Dimly flickering neon lights were all that kept them from swerving into one of the flimsy wooden buildings. “This is a ghost town,” Dr. Frank murmured, hugging himself tighter.
“Right. And we’re going to rob that bank there,” Norther slowed down as he drove by the bank, the tallest building in the small settlement. The town itself was only one street, just in a Spaghetti Western.
“Can I be frank with you, Mr. Winslow?”
“You are,” Norther grinned at the wordplay.
“That bank looks like nothing.”
“You underestimate, Frank. In that bank – ” Norther looked around suspiciously, ” – I’ll tell you once we get in a secured area.” He continued driving to the end of the street. Beyond that there was only the sparse camel-colored sand for miles, dotted with the occasional tumbleweed.
The very last building on the right looked like it was about to collapse on its side and die. To Dr. Frank’s horror, this was the one Norther pulled up to. He parked the car behind the building and they walked to the front, where a faded sign hung above their heads. Hotel, it read, and nothing more.
“Wha-how’d you find this place?” Dr. Frank asked incredulously, staring.
“Google,” Norther replied casually and continued up the steps. Dr. Frank looked back down the street. This seemed to be the only open establishment, and it didn’t look sanitary. In the end he had no choice but to follow Norther into the hotel.
“Hi, yes. I’d like a room please.” Norther leaned over the counter.
“Two rooms,” Dr. Frank hissed. Norther ignored him.
“Name?”
“Mr. uh, John Smith.” Norther turned and winked conspiratorially at Dr. Frank. His pseudonym was fool-proof. They would never be able to sort through the millions of John Smith’s in the United States.
Moments later they were opening the door to their room, Dr. Frank berating Norther for requesting a single room.
“It’s cheaper to share,” Norther said as he laid down his belongings on the bed. He sat down and patted the area beside him. “Sit down.”
“I’d rather stand, thank you,” Dr. Frank retorted, folding his arms.
“Suit yourself,” and Norther lay back on the bed, relaxed. “That bank is no ordinary bank. Its vaults hold one of the greatest lost treasures of the world.”
Dr. Frank couldn’t take it anymore. Here he was miles from home in a seedy hotel with a crazy treasure-hunting bank robber. He turned and left the room.
“Your funeral,” Norther muttered, picking up the television remote.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: blog, decision, grapes, Jack Sparrow, Johnny Depp, Katherine, Kevin McNally, letter, Mr. Gibbs, Pirates of the Caribbean, proposition
Hey guys – there is a dilemna.
I really like the letter format from the previous post. Plus, I’ve never like the name of this blog. I started this only less than a year ago, but you know how it is when you can’t think of a screenname. On top of that, I’ve changed a lot in this less-than-a-year. Some aspects of the personality of this blog no longer apply. So, I have a proposition.
“The man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink. The man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition made by the man who did the waking, savvy?” That’s much shorter when not spewed from the mouth of Jack Sparrow. In any case, repeat after me: Aye, that’ll about do it. Hmm. I suspect Mr. Gibbs to secretly be a Canadian, from the way he says “about”.
I propose that I move this to a new blog. I’m still deciding whether to move everything or to start anew and leave this one. The one thing I’m worried about is losing the number of views I’ve already collected.
The new blog would be called Letters From Katherine and would continue with the letter format.
There. I’ve said it. I feel better for it. Reference. There’s my name blatantly for the world to see. I’m worried that this will be a decision I’ll regret, but then again isn’t that a part of every decision-making process?
Let’s be honest though. Letters From Grapes just doesn’t have that charm.
Thoughts? I’m still thinking it through. For now I’ll keep trying the letter thing, and we’ll see how it works out.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: behemoth, body image, camera, dead mosquito, dresses, Dustin Hoffman, fashion, females, five words, gardeners, girl, insecurity, It's a Shame About Ray, Johnny Depp, Mika, orange, pink, prints, purple, radio, stop the wedding, stupid, sunday best, symbolism, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, The Graduate, the Lemonheads
Let’s try something new.
Dear reader,
I may pick up the habit of radio-listening again, what with each Youtube video taking two hours to load and my ipod almost dead. Also my dad took itunes with him on his computer, leaving me with this stone age behemoth.
Huh, there’s a word I haven’t heard in a while. Behemoth behemoth behemoth. I used to love this imposing and hilarious word. A behemoth should be furry, like a woolly mammoth. Woolly Bullies! Reference.
There’s something very nice about the thought of the whole family gathered around the wooden radio, and then going out for a Sunday afternoon drive.
I bought a whole new set of MiniDV tapes . Playtime with the camera is a go!
That might have come out wrong. But what else do you call it? I’m going to go wander around with my camera zooming in on various objects in my backyard? Can’t today anyway – the gardeners are coming around. Tuesdays are the closest to air raids I’m ever going to get, I hope. The gardeners are already terrifying enough.
I’ve taken video of the dead mosquito on the windowsill, the inspiration for this morbid act being many movies I’ve seen recently. Namely “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”. I’m learning not to make a movie that is only the literal telling of a story. Symbolism rocks when you’re not analyzing it. It’s very stealthy. Now that the mosquito has been immortalized on tape, I suppose I should clean it out. Believe it or not I’d rather watch it decay.
The other day my mom and I watched “The Graduate”. Excellent movie. As a side note, Dustin Hoffman’s earlier works are never intimidating like other older movies are. There’s a compliment in there somewhere. I love how it’s a movie about an affair and yet there aren’t any sex scenes. Everything is implied.
My mom said, “It’s interesting how in Chinese culture, if the girl is getting married they let her go. But in America they always go to stop the wedding.” I’d grown so used to the concept of stopping the wedding, at least in movies, that I rarely remember that people often give up too.
In the past year I’ve become such a girl. I thought it would become a long and difficult struggle to be okay with it, but I barely even notice the changes anymore. It’s just who I am now. There’s something epic about the fact that this personality will be me for the majority of my life, and who I was will have only been a small percentage of my life. It’s weird because that was such a strong personality too.
Occasionally I’ll see it again, when my mom tells me not to wear that dress because my legs are the size of small tree trunks. Not in those terms, but with the same meaning. And I think, “Screw it,” and go to change into frumpy jeans and a t-shirt. Is this the root of the problem? Body-image? I believe so.
Only with the support of my friends and parents have I become brave enough to step out in shorts or a dress, to cry during movies, to label something as cute, and to hug without faking a cringe. Here’s how I visualize it. Before I was orange. Now I’m leaning towards pink. And in between there was purple.
As a side note, my favorite color is still purple, but pink is catching up in small doses.
This is all leading up to: I love love love love love love love love dresses.
Never have I loved dresses so much since before preschool. What have dresses represented to me but the petty concerns of females and the pressures of violin?
Explanation: I wore dresses mainly for church and violin recitals, and it was my mom who pushed me into wearing frilly dresses to church along with my sisters. I’ve always considered myself to be an adult (silly, yes). And to be bunched in with my sisters as the only people who really dressed up for church (wearing our “Sunday best” is not a priority at my church), that was mortifying. I did not want to be seen as a baby too.
This need to be seen as an adult goes along with the “petty concerns of females” thing. Girls have been portrayed as caring about what men think, about what we look like. I thought that was stupid, and to wear a dress was to lump me in with the girls who stared off into space twirling their hair, constantly reapplying their makeup, doing stupid things because a cute boy was in the room.
Whatever. Dresses are cute, they’re liberating, and they give you the feeling of being light in the air, without a care in the world. Skirts included. And bright bold flower prints don’t hurt.
It’s not logical to forever wear dresses, but if I could I would. What am I talking about, of course it’s possible. I’m just not ready to be “that girl” who always dresses up just yet. Because no matter how plainly you wear a dress, it’s still a dress and that’s being dressed up.
You have my word, I won’t be making faces in every picture anymore. Only some.
Let’s play a game. List five words that describe who you are or who you want to be. I’ll go first.
Playful, intelligent, elegant, beautiful, passionate.
Haha I feel more exposed with those five words than I have with all my blog posts. Your turn!
Love,
Grapes
P.S. I’m not into neon plaid and neon skinny jeans. Too many people walking around in it. Except on MIKA. It works for him.
P.P.S. Polka dot/Flower print > plaid.
P.P.P.S. KATHKAWERKEJWWJWKEJR!!!!! “It’s a Shame About Ray” by the Lemonheads is on the radio! I love you, Rewind Tuesday or whatever it’s called. Guess who was “Ray” in the ”It’s a Shame About Ray” music video? Johnny Depp, yes. I can still remember the haziness of the video and how he was being emo on a bed smoking and stuff.
Filed under: Happiness is a Warm Gun, Uncategorized | Tags: 80's, breakfast burritos, Finding Neverland, frilly, green tea, happiness, happy, J.M. Barrie, Johnny Depp, lace, makeup bag, Michael Llewellyn-Davies, mochi ice cream, mosquito, Porthos, smoothie, tweezers, vintage
Happy happy happy day. I may soon have to move happiness of the week posts to Monday, but I won’t. Even if I do keep posting them on Mondays.
1. My mom’s makeup bag. It’s frilly, it’s lacy, it’s black, white, and blue. Logically, it’s hideous. But to me it’s beautiful. I told her yesterday, and she told me that she was thinking about getting rid of it. I asked, “When did you get it? Like in the 80’s?” Yes. YESSS. So I (stupidly) said, “It’s vintage.” And now she loves it as well and I will have to wait more years to inherit this floppy thing.
2. Michael & Porthos. Alright, I’m guilty of watching “Finding Neverland” again last night. That movie never fails to make me temporarily relapse into obsession. That said, Michael, the smallest Llewellyn-Davies boy in the movie, is so cute. “Is he in trouble? Because I’ve been alone with grandmother and I know what it’s like.” What a cute little boy.
J.M. Barrie’s dog, Porthos is cute too. A big fluffy mass of gray and white. I love the bloopers where he poops. It’s a lot less crude than it sounds, but still hilarious. Whatever, in the actual movie he’s adorable too.
3. Breakfast burritos. They are delicious in a stupid way. Meaning you should just enjoy its eggy, sausagey, cheesy, peppery goodness. It’s comfort food, not a gourmet dish.
4. Tweezers. Because armed with a pointy thing you can squish between your fingers, you can pluck anything. Plucking is fun except when it’s done on a violin.
5. Green tea. I haven’t had actual green tea in a while, but artificial green tea flavoring’s good too even if tastes nothing like real green tea. Green tea mochi ice cream, green tea smoothie. Guh, it is all so delicious.
6. The dead mosquito on my windowsill. It’s gruesome but beautiful, especially in the early morning because of the sunlight.
That should have cheered you up. Have a great week!
Filed under: Dr. Frank, Uncategorized | Tags: Alice in Wonderland, bank robbery, Big Fish, dentist, Dr. Frank, fanfiction, Johnny Depp, Mad Hatter, Norther Winslow
Norther lay his head back as he drove, laughing maniacally. Dr. Frank anxiously reached for the wheel, but his hand was slapped away. “I drive,” Norther warned possessively. The wind whipped their hair back, exposing their almost identical wrinkled foreheads as the red sports car raced East toward Texas. “We need to find us a place to sleep,” Norther said, looking around them for a rest stop. But the flatness of the desert stretched out uninterrupted for miles.
The sky slowly darkened above them until it was a deep champagne red. Accepting his fate, Dr. Frank let his guard down and rested his head back. The car swerved dangerously and he sat up, alarmed. Norther’s chin rested on his chest, and a loud snore erupted into the air. Dr. Frank slammed his hand down onto the steering wheel and maneuvred the car to the side of the road.
He was afraid to sleep, but could not resist the downward pull on his eyelids. Soon the two men were sleeping like babes, their snores scaring away the wildlife. It was enough to protect them through the night. Their jackets, however, were not enough to protect them from the desert’s harsh nights, and they eventually slept closer and closer until they were holding each other to keep warm.
The next morning, Norther awoke screaming. “What is this?”
Dr. Frank snorted awake, “What?”
“We’re in a ditch! More than that, what the hell were you doing hugging me in your sleep?”
Dr. Frank chose not to answer that, because he didn’t know. “We should probably push the car back onto the highway.”
“Damn right we should.” Norther scrambled out of the car and leaned on the back-end of it. Dr. Frank followed, albeit at his own much slower pace. “Hurry up! Is this how you’re going to be at the robbery, because if yes you’re gonna get us killed.”
Dr. Frank didn’t know what had gotten into Mr. Winslow making him so snappy, but he hurried nonetheless. The two men pushed against the car with all their might until it moved slowly upwards and onto the main road. Sweating, they rushed back into their seats and drove off.
“That was a good workout,” Norther said.
“Keep your eye on the road please,” Dr. Frank reminded him nervously.
“Don’t worry about it, Doc. I’m a bank robber. I can take anything.” Dr. Frank stayed quiet, although his mind was still racing with worries.
“How many times have you robbed a bank?”
“Once, last year. I told you, it’s how I got this shiny car.”
They drove on for several days, with nothing uneventful happening because Norther miraculously managed to find a rest stop each night, successfully eliminating awkward nights spent huddling in the sports car. It was as if that traumatic experience had made him determined never to spend the night in his car with Dr. Frank again.
At the end of three day’s drive, they reached Texas. Norther’s land of opportunity. It would be another three days until they reached their target.
Side note: I can’t think of the Mad Hatter as Johnny Depp. Is this the second Jack Sparrow?
