No one expected "expectorate"

First off, movie update:

Old Joy
Quiet. Beautiful. Pensive. Too short. I would've loved to hang out longer with these two friends-who-have-grown-apart on their meandering trip down memory lane and traffic lane. I'm sure there are levels of this exploration of male friendship that I didn't even appreciate, being of the female ilk. Old Joy is a lovely testament to the philosophy of "less is more." One moment in the spring "bath house" scene was staggeringly touching without needing a word. But speaking of words, another moment in the same scene contained what will probably be the most magnificent line in any movie this year: "Sorrow is nothing but worn-out joy."

Science of Sleep
Irreverent. Whimsical. Romantic. I have to say, I love, love, loved this film. I have a soft spot for quirky love stories and this movie offers amazingly sweet and artistically minded leaps between dreams and reality. Sure, it makes Gondry's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind seem downright commercial in comparison, but it shakes the same wonderful snow globe of the imagination. And Gael Garcia Bernal proves to be a comic delight.

Second off, personal update:

At a Yo La Tengo show (note band name dropping), a rooftop bartender declared that I have the "nicest disposition in the business." (Which business, I don't know.) I was also able to work the word "expectorate" into an improv class scene. Talk about a spit-take.

Now playing in headphones: "Into the Open" by the Heartless Bastards.

Out trapping gypsies. Be back soon.

I've been meaning to write, but life stuff keeps taking up my time. What I want to share is mostly about movies anyway, so it'll keep.

It's been a long, winding couple of work weeks, so I need to imbibe some alcoholic beverages--stat. In lieu of my own musings, please enjoy the offerings of darling Borat.

Demetri is Dy-no-mite

I developed an aversion to stand-up comedy in the late 1980s when seemingly every TV channel was running stand-up schtick 24/7. Think Rosie O'Donnell, the flashlight years. Now if I even catch a glimpse of a brick wall with a microphone in front of it, I develop a facial tic.

Then there came Demetri Martin. I accidentally sat through his 30-minute segment on Comedy Central and even laughed a couple of times. And then I remembered he did a funny bit on The Daily Show, too. The kid's got chops. Sure, he borrows some of his observational stylings from monotone genius Steven Wright, but Demetri brings something new to the table of hilarity.

This is the type of thing Demetri might throw at ya:

"'Sort of' is such a harmless thing to say. It's just a filler...sort of. It doesn't really mean anything, but after certain things, 'sort of' means everything. Like after: 'I love you.' Or, 'You're going to live.'"

So now he has a web site where you can hear some of his ramblings and watch the first in a series of webisodes (Look for: "A Rare Condition").

I predict big things for this boy. Andy Samburg big. Zach Braff big. Napolean Dynamite big. Tell me I'm wrong after you hang out for awhile here.

He's mighty mighty, just letting me hang out

I spent Sunday in the O.C. with my friend L-girl and her five-year-old son, K-boy. In a city park, in their company, I discovered that pretending to fight imaginary storm troopers with fallen tree branches operating as light sabers is a great way to destress from a string of 12-hour workdays. I was labeled as R2D2, but when I began fulfilling my role by making whirrs and beeps, K-boy informed me that R2D2 could talk in this scenario.

Back at their house, he and I engaged in another showdown. I was armed with Winnie the Pooh in a wizard costume, he was brandishing a miniature plastic cannon and an inflatable Superman (a.k.a. force field). After a laughter-filled engagement, I surrendered by waving a white crayon in the air. My opponent accepted the Crayola with an air of good sportsmanship.

"Whew," I sighed, feigning being out of breath. "I was outmanned by the Mighty K-boy!"

As he stepped over me to grab new toys, he softly, sincerely, said something in passing that made my heart catch:
"Thanks for saying 'Mighty.'"

Next Exit: Victory?

Stephen Colbert continues to rule as the self-appointed court jester of Dubya's ugly reign. This fireside chat shows the softer side of Stephen as he slyly skewers a buried news item that reveals the cluelessness of those calling the shots in D.C.

Atypical genius

I've always had a soft spot for crazy artists. In fact, I almost married one (a.k.a. Vietnam). But enough about me. This post is all about two wacky fellows who go by the handles of Ivan and Jean. Together they are ATYPYK. They like to play with preconceptions and give the world a goose.

Here is their site. Wherever you click, you're sure to find something fun. But if you want a quick sampler of their inspired lunacy (like the votive power strip above), follow this path of popcorn:

1) Click on "Enter" on home page.
2) Click on the cowboy roller skates image in pop-up.
3) Click on the "Start" prompt in the lower right of the black pop-up and make your way through their tasty gallery.

Enjoy.