Jaylemurph Goes to the Movies

Now, in a complete rip-off of the Glitter for Brains site, our triumphant return in a review of Batman Returns.

We begin in the lovely (and quite distinctive) Wollaton Hall, Nottingham. For Reasons That Remain Unexplained, this paragon of Elizabethan architecture is now Wayne Manor. Around the grounds, a young Master Bruce Wayne and a servant girl frolic about. While hiding from her, young Bruce falls through the rotten planks his doting, fabulously wealthy parents have used (For Reasons That Remain Unexplained) to cover an old well.
Cue the Bats.
The young master Bruce is Deeply Emotionally Scarred by them.

For Reasons That Remain Unclear, we cut several years forward to a prison camp in Tibet. For further Reasons That Remain Unlcear, several large Asians commence to be beating an Anglo. We assume this to be an older version of young master Bruce.

For even more Reasons That Remain Unclear, ymB is put into solitary confinement. For still further RTRU, Gary Oldman appears from behind a door.


Gary Oldman: *foams at the mouth a bit. EVIL BAD! ME STOP EVIL! YOU STOP EVIL NOW! BRING FLOWER TO MOUNTIAN TOP!


Bruce Wayne: Uh, okay.


For yet more RTRU, Bruce is released into the wilds. He picks a flower and begins the Arduous Trek up the Himalaya. At the top, he finds a monastery. Gary begins a long stretch of turning Bruce into a Ninja/idea/crime fighter. Unfortunately, rather than using a Rocky-style montage, it is drawn out over 20 minutes or so and features some blather attempting to be Eastern philosophy as might be found in Sports Illustrated.


For more RTRU, we cut back to the life of young Bruce. We meet his kind and loving father, who patches him up. Then we meet his dainty mother and we're off to a night at the opera.

Rather foolishly, Papa picks Der Fleidermaus.
Young Master Bruce flips out.

For (you guessed it) RTRU, rather than leaving through the main entrance, they go through a side door into a dark alley where they meet an Evil Criminal. Exit Mama and Papa through the bullet holes.


More blather about THE LEAGUE OF SHADOWS that purges evil from society.


Cut to The Evil Criminal's trial. It turns out he gets shot before Princeton student Bruce gets the chance to do so himself. He feels Angry and Cheated.
He is told he will never be really sad or angry til he is poor. He renounces his wealth and becomes a petty thief. For RTRU, he winds up in China and is caught and sent to a prison camp in Tibet.


The rest of the film is somewhat of a blur. Bruce leaves Tibet, claims his inheritance and decides to Fight Crime in New Y-- Gotham City (a mere stone's throw from his Nottingham estate). Fortunately, Wayne Enterprises hoardes ill-concieved Super Hero equipment. He helps himself.


There's something about a mob-boss and a Super-Kettle and Bad-trips, but by this point, all I noticed was Cillian Murphy, who plays an Evil Hott Doctor. So hott in fact, that he remained hott after belching forth maggots and bats. As far as I could tell, he was the focus of the film. Anything that was not him was not worth watching.


The rest of the movie featured Christian Bale moping about and speaking raspily. For the record, Batman deafeats the bad guys and makes solid plans to continue Fighting Crime with his pal, Lt. (later, presumably, Commissioner) Gordon.

The End.

"People who stand in front of the [subway train] doors need to be beaten within an inch of their life and left for dead on the platform!"

Damn, New York is making me violent.

(What's worse: the person I said this to saw nothing unusual about the remark.)

Girls With Glasses Are Sexy Young Lasses

Ah yes. Laura Llew is sexier than you, and not because of her stint as a lesbian porn star. It's her shirt. She has worn it and Rory Gilmore has followed.
I want one, now.

"I don't remember Bojangles holding Shirley Temple's brains in her skull while they were tapdancing!"

It is A Fact that Emily Gilmore is the best part of Gilmore Girls, and it rules when she gets drunk, but she has finally supplied me with a Life Motto: "When a woman gives birth to a crack-baby, you don't give her a puppy."

Also, just how big is Miss Patty going to get? I have a lingering mental image of Patty the Hutt, the muu-mmu'ed form with Lorelai in the Leia slave bikini on a chain and Sally Struthers as that little thing with the ears.

Would it have killed Amy Sherman-Palladino to unbutton or maybe take off Matt Czuchry's shirt in that make out scene? Or possibly, a few minutes of hard core gay porn after that "kissing a man" bit? I mean, Rory's an active girl. She could deal with another boy around.

Tomorrow is the first quiz for my classes. Time to realize that, hey, you /do/ have to do the homework.

And for your viewing amusement: The Meatrix, the most amusing film I've seen at work.

Best. Valentine. Ever.



Yes, I stole this from Miss Laura's site, but she'd never post this one.
On a related note, some bastard looked at this and said, "Oh yeah. I need to call Jake."
On a related related note, I found out that an undergrad in one of my (where I'm student, as opposed to teacher) has a wee crush on me.

Also, the dog has taken to rooting out my socks from the laundry and sniffing them. All the time.

The Years Go By...

Yes, we all saw those movies/pictures of Simon Rex that got him canned from MTV. And really, who wouldn't want to see them?
But he's on "I Love the 90s: Part Deux" looking pretty rough now, and there's no-one willing to pay to see that, however much the smack says so.

Man, he looks so bad I can't even find a picture. Can anyone else?

Waste Your Time...

...with this ingenious device.
For the record, it has guessed Romana from Doctor Who, Lorelai from Gilmore Girls and Cpt. Peacock from Are You Being Served? but not gotten Brendan Small from Home Movies, Nathan from Queer as Folk or Archie from Monarch of the Glen.
Alas, alas Thursday when I will no longer have time for such shite.

Confessions!

After so long, I have decided to inlcude some shocking confessions about me:

*I hate Rachel Ray. I know, it makes me a Bad Person, but her cute little self makes me want to hit people. This one guy, however, adores her and her show is often to be seen in our apartment, generally provoking mean comments from me like "Is that a highway on-ramp or was she trying to show off her thigh?"
Also, she tips like a bitch. "My dinner was $12.50, and with tax and tip, that comes to $12.75! Hee hee!"

*We have a hound. Just after Christmas, that guy got a basset hound and named him Sebastian. I call him many other things: pooch, hound, and after he tried to rip my face off the first day he was home, Savage Hound of the Wild!
For those who are interested, the scar is healing nicely.

*Tivo: I don't hate it all that much. I have sworn for some years now that Tivo is evil and would reprogram you brain, like an I-pod. Nevertheless, I got this for someone as a Christmas present. Since then, it has been... useful. Its ability to pick stuff on its own to record is still wonky... soccer shows in Mandarin, Who's the Boss and a Latvian talkshow.

*I /really/ like the Canadian TV show, Degrassi: The Next Generation. I used to watch it with irony, but now it is gone. I used to refer to the characters by type names: Fat Chick, Jewish Kid, Black Dude, etc. I now most of the kids first and last names, like Paige Myckelchuk. For the record, there are only two people on the show I want to sleep with.

*Last year for Christmas, I got Stephen Malkmus' autograph for Miss Laura Llew. He may, somehow, have gotten the idea she was dying of cancer. This is very, very not true. He kept reading things into what I was saying... Yikes.

*I have, with a heavy heart, decided I will not be able to accept sexual favors from my students. Yes, I will be a TA this semester for THEA 101. Office hours, grading exams, the lot. The first day of class is next Monday.

*Ever wonder where those model/actors in Bel Ami movies go? Turns out, once they get a little too old or a little too bitter, they become bus boys at the Veselka diner downtown.

*Decimalized currency, female prime ministers and the new Ice Age: all things accurately foretold by Dr Who. There's a foot of snow on the ground and I'm cold as fuck. Amusingly though, the snow is almost as deep as the dog is tall. He has to jump around through drifts to pee. Also, he likes to eat snow, but only on the run.

*Man, you cannot find somebody selling bootleg movies when you need one. I've been looking since before Christmas for one to send as a belated gift.

And who will feel some pity and send me a copy of that Arcade Fire album?

What Better Way to Come Back...

... than puberty style? Here, the BBC answers your questions with informative cartoons. Presumably this was to help re-acquiant older Doctor Who fans with their genitals after excessive exposure to the perly new assistant, Billie Piper.

As In What Jesus Doesn't Do

I have class Wednesday nights, so I don't watch ABC's Lost program. But some fucker does, and I sometimes see bits of it.
This week was apparently about Dominic MoinaHobbit's heroin addiction.
LIES!
He's too pudgy to be a smack addict. Have the writers of this show never seen Trainspotting/been to Williamsburg/hung around professional dancers?

The * Being

Congrats if you recognized that quote from Doctor Who and The Pyramids of Mars; more if you realize Sutekh is the name of a crappy techno band.

Kneel... Kneel before the Might of Sutekh!*


You're the Indie Guru!
Take What sort of Hipster are you? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.

You're practically too cool for words. You've got more indie rock knowledge in your pinky finger than Guided By Voices has songs! You went to your first Mudhoney concert when you were 14. You knew Green Day before they sold out to the masses. You can name every side project Lou Barlow has been in, complete with all album and song titles. You throw out words like "Thurston," "lo-fi," and "Kill Rock Stars." You wear jeans, old band tees, Converse. You hang with other gurus and people you can lord over. You're intelligent, but big-headed. Passionate, but hot-tempered. You will one day rule the earth.

*Whomp* My Name Is
*Bib* Ny Name Is

So last night was the Grad School party. It was also the night for celebrating one of my professors' retirement. The very professor, it turns out, who endowed by grant. Being a Solemn Occassion, evry single award winner since 1993 was there. They were an impressive lot, a professional director, the head archivist from the New York Public Library Theatre Archive, a CUNY PhD candidate, etc, etc.
And me.
They all spoke at length how Prof. X had touched their lives and affected their work. I stood to the side with my fellow first years, drinking very cheap white wine and hoping I wouldn't have to speak.
This turned out to be the least of my problems.
When the last of the past fellows had spoken, the head of the college announced it was now time to award this year's prize.
The 90+ year old professor stood up, squinted at the envelope and said:
"I'd like to award this year's prize to...
... Joel Anders!"

Just to make the situation more comfortable, the current head of the graduate program hissed in the world's sotte voce, "IT'S JASON ECKARD!"
The august professor stared at me for a second or two, threw down her hands and went "Oh, him!" and said to me, "You got it" and sat back down.

Not that I'm complaining too much, mind you. The money was spent today on the rest of my textbooks for the semester, and rent and groceries to keep me alive (and a Dr Who book and Belle and Sebastian vinyl), and the esteemed professor was 91 years old, but still...

UPDATE: the situation was not healed in class today when the chair of the department demanded one "Joshua" to read alound. When (after a minute or so) I looked up to see why no-one was reading, said professor was looking at me.
"My name isn't Joshua."
"Oh," he said. "Read it anyway."

Practice, Practice, Practice...


I realized today that the big red sandstone building I think looks at my subway stop for work (at 57th and 7th) is, in fact, Carnegie Hall. Go fig.

It was near this very corner today when I was approached by a campaign worker for the Democratic party. He was all eager, running up to the unlucky and pestering them. He was also pretty cute. When he zeroed in on me (I had sadly neglected to wear my headphones) I tried to escape. No joy. After he asked me "Are you registered to votem, sir?", I had a momentary image of giving him head. (He was cute, okay.) I laughed quickly because that was a fairly grossly inappropiate thing to do. He asked me if I thought the election was funny. Pissed off, I decided to tell him The Truth.
"Okay," I said. "I'll tell the truth. I've already voted. I voted Democratic. I'll sit here and talk to you as much as you want, but be aware, the whole time, I'll be thinking about having sex with you."
I was pestered no more.

My glut of papers is /finally/ over and I can start to peep back out at the world, even though I still have yet to finish (or really begin) Sue Ellen Case's Feminism and Theatre. I already dislike the book: I find some of her propisitions distaste and frightening. She doesn't like the Oresteia, the only complete Greek tragic trilogy, and is willing to drop it from the canon. It seems a little hypocritical given her zeal to add forgotten Women's work.
Tomorrow night is the graduate students' Party. The college apparently is ponying up money for wine and cheese so we can mingle and meet each other outside of class. I hope it's their chance to hook me up with my promised grant, before I miss my rent. Speaking of which, it occured to me (in another Carnegie-esque flash) that my Theatre History professor is the very person for whom the grant is named. So no falling asleep in /that/ class.
I'm currently reading a selection of primary sources on Restoration drama: Dryden's criticism, contemporary accounts of actors, personal recollections, etc. It's really, really interesting (if you're a sad bastard), but makes me want to use Capital Letters for No Reason and stress my points with Italics.

I was delighted to notice that they put Jack and Bobby and Smallville back to back on the WB. It makes sense to me, as does this week's ads with Tom Weller running around with no shi... Feeling up his nipples. Also, I'm still puzzled why, given the stars and audience, last week on JandB, they did a scene in the girl's locker-room. Title 9 people. Title 9.

In the three minutes of free time I have daily, I have discovered a new way to waste time. You can go to Nationstates.net and rule your own country. I have two; the Empire I delight in and the republic I think should actually exist. Well, sort of. I only agree with limited democracy and would have a series of intelligence tests to determine level of participation in elections, but they don't let you be that specific in formulating a government.
You can visit my countries The Most Serene Republic of San Giorgio (my original name, The Republic of St George, after my own real country, was taken) and The Holy Empire of Eckardia.

Just for the Record:
or, Why I'm not blogging at the moment

In the past three weeks...

Papers written:
1) 10 pages for History of Theatre Theory, on the relationship
between Addison's Cato and
Neoclassical Theory as formulated by Castelvetro.
2) The use of The South as Fictive Perfection in the Early Works of
Tennessee Williams, 5 pages.
3) Three page book report on The Restoration Stage, G E Bentley, ed.
4) Four page paper discussing the experience of seeing the Chester
Mystery Plays.
5) Three page book report on The Chester Mystery Plays
6) Four page paper discussing the experience of seeing a Greek
Tragedy

Plays read: The Second Shepherd's Play, The Farce of the Worthy Master Pierre
Patelin, Everyman, Boesman and Lisa, Mandragola, The Cid, The Portrait,
The Curse of the Starving Class, Cato

Books Read: The Chester Mystery Plays, Feminism and Theatre, The Cid Controversy, The Restoration Stage

Selections Read from: Hartnoll's The Theatre: A Concise History, Nagler's A Source
Book of Theatrical History, Gerould's Theatre/Theory/Theatre

Did I mention I work full time?

Tonight On A Very Special "Jack and Bobby"

Jack pleasures himself for the entire hour while watching a re-run of "Smallville."

Thank you, WB.

A Note from Work...

Sweetheart --
He isn't "metro". You're just a "fag hag."

Love,
Coffee Ho Jay

Also:
Since when is it absolutely de riguer for all cute indie boys to have Asian girlfriends? It always makes me think of that line from Queer as Folk with the fag and his Asian boy -- *in effeminate Manchester accent* "Perfect Boyfriend -- Shags like a rabbit and doesn't speak a word of English!"

Tina! Come Get Some Ham!

I'm still waiting for something interesting to happen. In light of any coherent entries, here are some bits and pieces I've been collating for a while:

I'm really disappointed about not meeting new people. I can't complain (much) since I'm too broke and too busy to go anywhere or do anything. Things are sloooowly thawing at school and I'm getting to know my fellow students.

I *have* made one friend, Sniffle-Kitty. He's a black and white tom-cat that lives up the street. The first night I moved in, he was hanging out by the sidewalk. I bent down to pet him and he sniffed my finger quite thoroughly. Since then, every time I pass by, he'd sniff me and then let me pet him. Today, I made him purr for the first time.

At work, I ran into someone from my home-town. A friend, actually, and someone I did many plays with at the Hickory Community Theatre. Go fig.
(Actually, also on the first night I was here, I saw a couple I had gone to college with, somewhere in the middle of Astoria. Not that I a) particularly liked them or b) stopped to talk to them. But still, who'd think it'd've happened that quickly?)

I have developed a very embarrassing personal rash. That necessitates buying a special creme. Ugh.

I keep noticing Important Buildings around my daily walks. In the past week, I've noticed that the CBS Corporate Building, the Ed Sullivan Theater and M Hotel are all just a few blocks from work. I also found a subway stop that knocks off about 20 minutes of my commute. (I had been taking the N train to the 1/9 at 42 Second St. up to 59th St, which was at the door of the Time-Warner Building. Now, I just get out of the N train at 57th St and walk two blocks.)
Speaking of Important Buildings, last week I drug some bastard down to One Federal Plaza, to pretend to be Sam Waterston on the steps of the courthouse. Then we went to the Virgin Megastore, where I bought The Belle and Sebastian single, Wrapped Up in Books. I am still repenting buying it there, but it was out at Kim's.

This week at school: Medieval Theatre -- Mystery Plays! Morality Plays! Auto Sacramentales! All poorly written and tediously liturgical. However, I now know what that I will be writing one paper on Addison's Cato for my theory class and on the role of the South in Tennessee Williams' early plays.

I set off the smoke alarm making quesadillas, after being spurred on by Napoleon Dynamite's grandmother. They were still edible, though. The biscuits turned out much better, even if they were only the Bisquick variety.

So, still not much interesting happens to me. Much. Every once in a while, I'll be walking around and realize "Hey, that's important!" like when I figured out that the CBS building is on my way from school to work (if I don't cut through the Park).
Last week, this one guy, his friend Alex and I went to Williamsburg to see Of Montreal. I'd seen them before and was looking forward to seeing my first show in a month. I quite liked Williamsburg, even if I probably shouldn't. It reminded me a bit of home. There were actually fairly young people walking the streets, which there isn't really in Queens. People were even vaguely friendly, and the club, Northsix, was exactly the same as every other hipster club ever.
The opening acts sucked, though, so we stood around and laughed at people -- the Fat Hipster, the Sad Kid (who was there alone and drinking). I hadn't eaten all day and had been up since 6 am, so the Coke and Bourbons probably weren't the best idea. Prompt at midnight, Alex got sick so we left before the set was over.

That one guy's family was here this weekend, so we went out to a little Italian place. Whoot for nice food.

At work today, somebody offed themself. They jumped off the fourth floor balcony in the atrium of the Time Warner Building. Now, I didn't see it, but I walked by as they were using paper towels to get up the last of the blood and repaired the tile he cracked. (Apparently, he lived, but left crippled and twitching... And don't look at me like that. If he wanted to make his death a public spectacle, I can be catty.)

Ugh... my first paper is due Wednesday. It's a simple little 3 page response, but two weeks from this week, I have about 25 pages worth of papers due.

Hi.

So, I moved. It's been a few weeks, and everything is pretty much settled down. The apartment is mostly arranged -- we're waiting for some bookshelves, since we only have one and we've got another oh, 300 or 400 books left to put up.
Other than the floating book issue, the apartment is nice (tho' it was dirty as hell when we moved in). It's not too small, and is nicely appointed with cheap Ikea furniture and other assorted furniture. We've even managed to borrow an air-conditioning unit for the bedroom, so we can stay cool.
Work is largely identical to my old job (being the same job for the same company, it would be...) but more complex... I have to run a cash register, roast coffee beans and be knowledgeable for about three times as much product, so it's challenging, I suppose. We live about a mile from the subway, so the worst part of work is getting to the subway station on Ditmars Blvd on time. The train ride in isn't as bad as the walk to the station...
Class is also pretty good. I take classes in History of the Theatre, History of Theatrical Theory and Significant English Plays of the 20th Century. The last is taught by Stanley Kauffman, a famous critic and theatre scholar. Classes with personal remeberances about Samuel Beckett rock. Besides that one class, we've been studying Greek tragedy in the other two classes. So far, I've read The Suppliant Maidens, Prometheus Bound, Agammenon, Antigone, Alcestis, Medea (not to mention the Poetics and The Clouds). I haven't been reading much else.
Sadly, between work and school, I don't get around to being very interesting. I saw Philip Seymour Hoffman -- and I only know who he is in the vaguest sense -- at the Barnes and Noble on Union Square. We've been to the Park. And that's about it, really.
Tomorrow is pay day (my first here) and I get the money from selling my car, so fun things will transpire.

Fun Fact: Park Avenue isn't actually on the park. It's two streets away. Stupid.