A few things:
I got around to seeing "Talladega Nights" on saturday night at the Cine Capri. Long-time associates Eric and the Marron Brothers accompanied me on my trip to Ye Old Cinema, and a good time was had by all. I won't bother to review the film: its a Will Ferrell film. Either you like his stuff and will get the same kick out of that I did, or you hate his stuff and you should probably put your $8 to better use.
Going to the theater is a bit of a trip for me, nostalgically speaking. Prior to being a bookseller, I had the joy, nay, the priviledge of being an usher for Harkins Theaters. The only thing worse than wearing a stupid blueberry bowtie and cumberbund every day is having to actually clean up after human beings with no sense of common decency. I'll never forget stumbling into the Men's room, only to see shit smeared on the mirrors. ON THE MIRRORS. Or the time I walked into a stall and saw that someone had deposited a massive and perfectly circular shit into the toilet, one so big it could not be flushed properly. Luckily, I had accrued some seniority by the time I started stumbling onto these horrors, so I had the pleasure of passing the cleaning buck onto some other poor sap. To this day, I remain firmly of the opinion that the world would be a better place if everyone was forced to do some janitorial work early on in their lives. *Shudders* Just thinking of the theater I worked at still gives me shivers. Although I will say this: one reason I love going out to the movies (and going to movies being shown at a Harkins theater, to be exact) is having the opportunity to loudly retell my friends' the horrors I witnessed during my first week in concessions. The worst horror was discovering a dead cockroach floating in the popcorn butter; after notifying a manager the butter was thoroughly and utterly roached, his call was to fish out the roach and then had us continue to use the butter. Every time I tell that story, somebody in the line turns sheet-white and I get to go home knowing that I killed someone's love for movie popcorn. And I don't feel the least bit guilty about it.
A few more things:
Finished Cain's Book this week. Incredible book. If anything, Cain's Book justifies my SG membership (I read it based on a recommendation from a poster in an old literary thread). Started reading Amy Chua's World On Fire today.
I would try to write some more, but the Daily Show is on and I can't pass up the chance of getting my Jon Stewart fix.
I got around to seeing "Talladega Nights" on saturday night at the Cine Capri. Long-time associates Eric and the Marron Brothers accompanied me on my trip to Ye Old Cinema, and a good time was had by all. I won't bother to review the film: its a Will Ferrell film. Either you like his stuff and will get the same kick out of that I did, or you hate his stuff and you should probably put your $8 to better use.
Going to the theater is a bit of a trip for me, nostalgically speaking. Prior to being a bookseller, I had the joy, nay, the priviledge of being an usher for Harkins Theaters. The only thing worse than wearing a stupid blueberry bowtie and cumberbund every day is having to actually clean up after human beings with no sense of common decency. I'll never forget stumbling into the Men's room, only to see shit smeared on the mirrors. ON THE MIRRORS. Or the time I walked into a stall and saw that someone had deposited a massive and perfectly circular shit into the toilet, one so big it could not be flushed properly. Luckily, I had accrued some seniority by the time I started stumbling onto these horrors, so I had the pleasure of passing the cleaning buck onto some other poor sap. To this day, I remain firmly of the opinion that the world would be a better place if everyone was forced to do some janitorial work early on in their lives. *Shudders* Just thinking of the theater I worked at still gives me shivers. Although I will say this: one reason I love going out to the movies (and going to movies being shown at a Harkins theater, to be exact) is having the opportunity to loudly retell my friends' the horrors I witnessed during my first week in concessions. The worst horror was discovering a dead cockroach floating in the popcorn butter; after notifying a manager the butter was thoroughly and utterly roached, his call was to fish out the roach and then had us continue to use the butter. Every time I tell that story, somebody in the line turns sheet-white and I get to go home knowing that I killed someone's love for movie popcorn. And I don't feel the least bit guilty about it.
A few more things:
Finished Cain's Book this week. Incredible book. If anything, Cain's Book justifies my SG membership (I read it based on a recommendation from a poster in an old literary thread). Started reading Amy Chua's World On Fire today.
I would try to write some more, but the Daily Show is on and I can't pass up the chance of getting my Jon Stewart fix.
or the devination/interpretations will be off.
Which translation of the IChing do you have?