Posted tagged ‘Robert Pattinson’

Things Not To Do At An Office Christmas Party

December 18, 2009

1.         Pee against the wall of the banquet hall in which the party is being held, or even in an adjacent phone booth.  (I witnessed this indiscretion at the first office Christmas party I ever went to.  The employee did not last into January.)

2.        Mention, in passing,  either  (a) the tax research you were supposed to finish by today, or (b) any suicidal impulses.

3          Discuss, even intelligently, any obsession you may have with either vampire novels, or  Robert Pattinson.

4.         Order a sixth bottle of beer or thirds on the chocolate dessert.

5.         Drink out of the wine glasses, or eat off the plates, of any co-worker.  (Yes, I know it’s a sin to waste wine, or food, especially chocolate.)

6.          Be anything but thankful to any figure of authority, but not rubbing-up-against-thankful, no matter how many glasses of someone else’s wine you have finished.

7.     Ask for a raise between courses.  Or during courses.

8.         Ask too many times whether there is bacon in the soup.

9.         Forget to ask, if you are a known vegetarian, whether there is bacon in the soup.

10.       Eat the soup.  ( It either has bacon or chicken broth.)  Just stick with the salad.

11.       And the chocolate dessert.

Ten Signs That You Need To Change Something In Your Life

December 10, 2009

1.  You wake up wishing you had a very mild case of swine flu.

2.  Despite the two cups of tea, your energy doesn’t kick in till you notice your (old) dog pooping on the carpet.

3.  After the clean-up, you do speed yoga, convincing yourself that it’s on the frontier between relaxation techniques and aerobics.

4.  Your subway ride (only three stops on the express) is the most restful time of your day. (It somehow beats out the speed yoga.)

5.  You re-read vampire novels as you walk from the subway to your office.  You are more concerned about being seen by a co-worker than being hit by a car.

6.  As you get your first cup of work tea, you can’t help thinking that even a mild case might be okay.

7.  After your fourth cup, you are tense enough that, when you get a call from your apartment building, your first thought is that your (old) dog has died.  You know that doesn’t make sense—(would the corpse smell already?)  And yet you can’t help picturing fur leaking out from under your door.  (Yech.)

8.  You are too busy to check Robert Pattinson news even just one time.

9.  Though when someone gives you (for Christmas) a Robert Pattinson calendar, it really makes your day.

10.  You take the local home, happy for the extra stops.

After the Ninth Southern Vampire Novel

December 7, 2009

Under pressure of pressure (that is, randomized, yet persistent, work and life demands), I read nine vampire books last week.  (The “Sookie stackhouse Southern Vampire Mysteries” by Charlaine Harris).  This is not something I am proud of.

I also managed (for the record) to get to work every day, to work while there, even to put in several hours on Sunday.  Cooking was done Laundry was not.  (I hereby send an open apology to all members of my gym.)

Sleep was intermittent.   Perhaps, as a result, I felt a bit dazed finishing the ninth novel this morning (“benighted” may be a better description.)

I’m not quite sure why one (“I”) turn to silly books under pressure. Of course, there’s the whole mind candy business.  (See my earlier post “When Escapism Hits Hard –  https://manicddaily.wordpress.com/2009/12/03/blocking-write…pism-hits-hard/ )

And yes, it’s embarrassing.  Still, there it is.  Some nights (and mornings, Saturday afternoons, and subway rides) will have their vampires (in print.)

Since I am new to this genre, I don’t know what is standard.  I did notice a considerable overlap between the Sookie Stackhouse novels and the Twilight Saga – cool, perfectly handsome, powerful, vamps in love triangles with warm, slightly less handsome and powerful, “were” figures (werewolves, shape shifters, were tigers) and a humble but cute gal who has an extra-special zing to her blood.  There are also characters who can read minds (Edward Cullen and Sookie Stackhouse), but who fall in love with those whose minds they cannot read.  Jokes about the ridiculousness of vampires and baseball.   Enforcers of  vampire “law”.  Many descriptions of clothes.

The Sookie Stackhouse books are much more diverse than Twilight, with (i) a soap-opera-sized number of characters, (ii) nearly non-stop corpses, (iii) an interesting social context (Northern Louisiana); (iv) an interesting political context (the vampires have “come out of the closet” with worldwide TV announcements), and, of course, (v) actual sex/frequent biting (as opposed to abstinence/last-resort biting ).  No wonder the books have successfully translated to a television series (True Blood, which I confess I’ve never seen.)

And yet, despite the fact that I read all the Sookie Stackhouse books straight through, I can also see why they do not have the devoted readership of Twilight.   First, the books are not written for tween/teenage girls, a viciously loyal  group.   Secondly, the books are basically crime mysteries,  inherently written for just one read.

Third, and most important,  where’s the Edward (i.e. Robert Pattinson)?    Bill Compton (and remember, I haven’t seen the TV series) is the closest to unconditionally devoted and droolworthy. (Eric is promising but sneaky, Alcide too hairy, and Quinn, the were-tiger, too unintelligent.)  But after the first book or so, poor Bill only briefly passes, longingly, through the dark of Sookie’s yard.

By the ninth (and last published) book, anyone with a romantic temperament  (read “me”) is getting really tired of Bill’s near-absence.  But, lo and behold, the series is not yet finished.  Ms. Harris has apparently realized that, in our high-pressure world, the appetite for mind candy, like the appetites of Sookie’s vamps, takes many many bites to satisfy.

UPDATE TO THIS POST FROM JANUARY 7, 2010–After much “review”, I’ve found that the Sookie Stackhouse novels are pretty good “re-reads” after all.  If you are in the mood for escapism, they definitely hold up for repeated reads.  I also want to revise my question: “Where’s the Edward?”  The male characters, especially Eric and Bill, do grow on one.  “Like a fungus,” as Sookie says in one of the books (to Eric).   Eric and Bill have certain advantages (for the reader) over Edward as well that almost make up for the fact that they are not embued with the image of Robert Pattinson.  They are quirky, definitely flawed, have senses of humor, and are very sensual.   Fun.

Newspeople, Bloggers, Blocking Writer’s Block

November 30, 2009

Yesterday, I wrote a kind of odd post about “Celebrity News” which focused on the addictive quest for celebrity in our culture.  I also discussed the intense craving of some newspeople, particularly TV newspeople, to be people “in the news” as well as people discussing it.

I felt a little guilty writing so dismissively about newspeople’s quest for attention.   It did not escape me that bloggers could be said to suffer from similar cravings.

I can’t speak for all bloggers—I only really know one.   Still, I think the average blogger’s pursuit of attention is somewhat different from that of the average TV newsperson.  First, the newsperson often seems to be embued by grandiosity;  a (perhaps inherent) narcissism has already been gorged by all the staff persons hovering– brushing their hair, checking their noses, patting their tummies—(wait a second, that’s spaniels–)

A blogger, in contrast, tends to be alone when working, either by choice or happenstance.  (The blogger’s family, losing all hope of a dinner at home, has gone out.)   The blogger, unlike the TV newsperson, or any TV persona, receves little coddling; their “stats” are a pretty good ego-toughener.   Moreover, the blogger knows that even the few that do “view” the blog may look for a second at most—the time it takes to realize that a mouthwatering tag like “Robsten” has led to no new gossip and questionable adulation.

As a result, the blogger must garner sustenance from the age-old wisdom of Gandhi, as quoted by that newly-minted sage, Robert Pattinson, in the trailer of his upcoming movie, Remember Me: “Gandhi said that whatever you do in life is insignificant, but it’s very important that you do it.”  (Sorry, but in the downswing from the manic side, I find myself studying this trailer.)

Which brings up what may be the most important difference between the TV newsperson’s motivations and the blogger’s.  The blogger (or at least the only blogger I know) does not crave attention so much as expression.  Yes, the blogger is thrilled when the number of hits rises, but his (her)  most engaging and happy moments, are those spent actually writing, typing, and cursorily editing, each post.  And then, of course, the pressing of the little button that says “Publish,” and the watching of that little button spin.

This is something for those with writer’s block to remember.   Try to get hooked on the process, and not to think too much of the impression that you, as the person engaging in the process, are making.  Of course, you need to keep your audience in mind.  You are trying to communicate.  You want your readers both (i) to be able to follow your work and (ii) to want to follow your work.   But try to keep the focus on the the writing, the message, and not on yourself as its deliverer.  Writing is not about getting your nose powdered, head (or tummy) patted, but about putting the words on the page.

Celebrity News

November 29, 2009

Addiction has long plagued man (and woman).  (Even, as was shown at the Central Park Zoo a few years ago, polar bear.)   There are the standard traps—alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex, and, if you are a polar bear, your 9 by 12 artificial arctic pool.   But addiction is not only a by-product of human nature, it’s also a creature of its time.  As a result, there are always new and interesting practices that people can get taken over by—crystal meth, online shopping, computer gaming, non-stop twittering or facebook checking (non-stop “stat” checking if you are a blogger), texting while driving, the 24 hour news cycle.  Even worse than an addiction to the 24-hour news is an addiction to the 24-hour celebrity news cycle;  worse than that, is the intense craving for celebrity status itself–the obsession with achieving fame.

Some addictions are obviously more damaging than others.  I, for example, view an addiction to either (a) Robert Pattinson, or (b) the Twilight books, as relatively benign.  They may be damaging to one’s reputation as a serious and/or thoughtful person, but they  are a relatively cheap indulgence, don’t truly harm others (except, perhaps, a thoroughly bemused spouse), and can even be satisfied in chocolate.  (See e.g. new Twilight assortments with foil wrapped and embedded portraits! )

Both Twilight and Pattinson also have the absolutely most healthy quality an addiction can have, which is that they get pretty boring pretty quickly.  (No offense, Rob; it’s not you so much as the dialogue.)

The addiction to the pursuit of celebrity status is a little more troubling.   Recent examples include Michaele and Tareq Salahi, the couple who crashed last week’s White House State Dinner, and Richard Heene, the father of the “Balloon Boy,”–all people apparently addicted to the pursuit of their fifteen minutes.

What’s more worrisome to me, however, is the Salahish, I mean salacious, pursuit of celebrity by people who once played serious and dignified roles in our culture.   I particularly mean people in the news business, who seem, increasingly, to want also to be people “in the news.”

In the early years of televised news, there was a dignity to the newscaster–Walter Cronkite, Frank McGee, David Brinkly, were TV personalities, but soberly somber.   We all know how this has changed in more recent years.   The reasons are obvious and not new—advertisers want ratings, outrageous and/or boorish commentators, perky blonde reporters, and “news” which is really entertainment (i.e. reality shows, sports, sensational crime shows) apparently achieve them.   Recently, however, the “celebritization” of newspeople on TV has not only become more intense, it has also spread to other sections of the press, which, due to commercial pressures and online versions, have  become increasingly TV-like.  For example, the New York Times now posts photos and videos, and advertises blogs and tweets, of its op-ed writers.  To some degree, this is useful;  you can better understand the overall stance of a commentator, and, if you like, you can read a lot more of them, but sometimes, well, you end up wanting to read a whole lot less.

Politicians increasingly crave “celebrity-style” status as well.  (Yes, Sarah Palin.)  As Colbert has demonstrated through his “Colbert bumps,” it’s better, election-wise, to be known, even if slightly ridiculed.  (Ideally, if apearing on Colbert,  it’s better to be known, and if ridiculed, also good humored.)

I guess people want circuses, even when bread is in short supply.

Grandmothers – Personal Celebrities – Grandmother Poem

November 28, 2009

I realized this afternoon that it was my grandmother’s birthday.  I’d been all set to write about addiction, particularly those addictions related to celebrity (as in the pursuit of particular people,  i.e. Robert Pattinson, and the pursuit of celebrity itself,  i.e. Michaele and  Tareq Salahi.)

And then I remembered that it was November 28th and that one of my grandmothers had been born well over 100 years ago, in a year in which Thanksgiving fell on this day.

This, in my mind, is much more important than celebrity, though related too in a funny way.

Grandmothers are very special people by and large.  I understand that they can be problematic children, spouses, and parents.  But, for many, it seems, the mantle of “grandmother” works a wand-like magic that enables them to be their very best selves for very long stretches of time.  In that sense, they can be a household celebrity, at least to their young grandchildren;  those same young grandchildren have their own experience of celebrity in the unconditional specialness they are accorded by their grandmothers.  Pretty terrific.

All that said, I’ve always felt that my grandmother was particularly special, and probably her best self her whole life.  Here’s an (illustrated) poem about a day spent with her.  The drawing bears no resemblance (!), but I’m much better drawing elephants than people.

Fishing With My Grandmother (Done With Elephants)

The Time My Grandma Took Me Fishing

Reeds split for our crouch;
she parted her lap around me,
mosquito in ear, white curls
bristling my face.  Our hands laced the green
rod—it was a stick, only truly green
on the inside, like the bubble
of high grass, low crik, thick
with summer.  Safety pin
for a hook;  even she
seemed surprised when the stick jarred,
jerked the thread across the
murk, though she quickly pulled it through
my loosening grip. Both amazed as
a silver disc flashed,  shiny as
the newly bought, through
our homemade afternoon; in the bucket,
an occasional swish of rainbow
that you could only catch
if you really looked.

All rights reserved, Karin Gustafson.

(For spelling purists, “crik” should be spelled “creek”, I know.   I chose this spelling so that non-Midwestern, or Southern, readers would know how to pronounce it!)

Ten Reasons To Be Thankful In 2009

November 25, 2009

1.  That Robert Pattinson was not in fact hit by a taxi fleeing fans in New York;

2.  and that he exists.

3.  That Lehman Brothers could only fall once;

4.  and that it didn’t happen this year.

5.  That our President (thank God!) has not been the subject of violent attack, despite all the crazy talk.

6.  That we still have a banking system, despite all the crazy talk.

7.  That Captain Sully Sullenberger did not allow his plane to crash into midtown Manhattan, even if the automatic pilot system supposedly could have landed the plane on its own.  (I don’t believe that.)

8.  That Levi Johnston is not our son-in-law.

9.  That Swine Flu has not mutated into a life-threatening epidemic like the 1917 Spanish Flu.

10.  Speaking of the 1917 Spanish Flu, that Edward Cullen didn’t  survive it.   Or did survive it.  Or did whatever he was supposed to have done.

Enjoy your thanks-giving.

And, as always, thank you all for reading.

(If you get a chance, please check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson at Amazon or on ManicDDaily home page.)

New Moon -The Missing Moments

November 23, 2009

Chris Weitz and Summit Entertainment have struck gold with Twilight Saga New Moon. Frankly, any regular ManicDDaily reader could have predicted this:  while Kristen Stewart manages to embody both the ordinary and heroic—a combination of qualities that many young girls envisage in themselves, Robert Pattinson embodies (literally) what many young girls envisage for themselves.   And then there’s the extra set of muscles, bright smile, and uncannily canine shagginess of Taylor Lautner.

Where the movie fails, though, is in targeting the needs of tweens, a core fan group, for quirky scenes, lines and gestures which can be repeatedly replayed  (i) in their heads, and (ii) on their downloaded versions of the movie,  (iii)  preferably, at a slumber party.

The first movie, Twilight, had an abundance of these quirky, (one might  say) goofy, moments.  They were camp, but could somehow bear the weight of repeated viewing:  (i) RPatz’s shaken/frozen face after he stops the careening car; (ii) “I’m a killer, Bella,” (iii) the whole “you shouldn’t have said that,” “spider monkey,” thing (iv)  the first kiss;  (v) the second kiss; (vi) the third kiss.

New Moon has remarkably few of these quirky moments —moments that one can imagine young girls watching again and again in giggles and pajamas.   In my pre-vcr/dvr youth, this need was filled by our actual re-enactment of scenes.  My personal favorite was Olivia Hussey’s death scene in Zeferelli’s Romeo and Juliet, which I performed with great gusto and convincing gasps on numerous all-girl occasions.   “Oh happy dagger, this is thy sheathe.  There rust and let me die.”   (Yes, I was a weird kid.)

But what would a weird kid re-enact in New Moon?  All I can come up with (and these are no match for Hussey) are (i)  Bella’s single-arched-browed “kiss me,”,  and (ii) Dakota Fanning’s smiling “this may hurt a little.”

So, will this lack of re-enactable scenes translate into a lack of repeated viewings?  A drastic downfall in ticket and DVD sales after the initial hot weekend?

I doubt it.  The film still has a lot of Rob Pattinson abs.   (Apparently, even 109 year-old  vampires have adopted modern low-rise fashions.  Who knew?)

And, then of, course, there are kisses 4, 5, 6, 7…. But who’s counting?

Another Villanelle – “The Nap”

November 22, 2009

Believe it or not, I have found, on this blog’s “stats,” that there are almost as many people interested in villanelles as in Robert Pattinson.  (Well, maybe not almost as many.)  Still, there is an interest.

This is fortunate for me as the villanelle form is one that I really like.  (Check out my other posts on this subject, if you would like to read explanations of the villanelle form and suggestions about how to write them.  Check these out especially if you also like Magnolia Bakery’s Banana Pudding.)

Today, I’m posting the villanelle, “The Nap,” because it it feels to me to have an autumnal aspect–after the fall, as it were.  (I was in upstate in New York when I wrote it, when the leaves were fallen, brown, and slowly drying out.)

To all those who are afraid to try writing a villanelle–you’ll see that  I cheated!  I modified the repeating lines;  in other words, I gave priority to meaning over manneristic form.   (Ha ha!)

Reading suggestion:  line breaks, in my poems at least, are not intended to denote pauses, unless there is also a specific punctuation break, such as comma or period.

Thanks as always for reading this blog.  I very much appreciate your sympathetic interest and time.  Comments are also always welcome.  Thanks again.

The Nap

Side by side, we slid to a dry, still, place.
It was not a woeful drought of age or dust,
the softer dryness of a tear-trailed face.

We never used to find this quiet space.
Any closeness quickly clambered into lust.
But side by side, we slid to a dry, still, place

where hands touched in a sweat-free interlace,
fatigue overwhelming pheromone fuss
with the softer dryness of a tear-trailed face.

Some other time we’d find that moist embrace
where pleasure mounts to such synaptic bust
I find myself side-sliding to a place

as blank as emptied well, as capsized chase.
(My brain reacts so badly to heart’s trust,
the softer dryness of a tear-trailed face.)

But today, we two, exhausted by the pace
of time and life and words like ‘should’ and ‘must’,
side by side, slid to a dry, still, place,
the softer dryness of a tear-trailed face.

 

I am submitting this post into the Gooseberry Garden’s Poetry Picnic, with the theme of love and lost love.

All rights reserved, Karin Gustafson.

Also check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson on Amazon.

New Moon – Seen and Ponderous

November 21, 2009

New Moon has now been seen and pondered.  This is easy to do as it really is pretty ponderous.  (Yes, Bella is depressed, nearly catatonic,  but do we have to be?)

The music is particularly unfortunate.

As are the costumes.  Whoever came up with Edward’s robe with the Voluturi, which looks, at times, as if he were a Las Vegas crooner in drag, must be the same person who came up with Carlyle’s weird pale sweater set with the ascot type muffler.  Oh, and also the knickery vest shirt and shepherdess dress outfit.  (Don’t want to spoil this one.) And  Edward in the blue silk pajama top.  Unfortunate.)

The actors do the best job they can (which is not bad.)  Their eyebrows and lips work very hard to convey depth beyond the sometimes goofy script.  The actual lines don’t help much;  these feel endless and redundant in the Jacob/Bella scenes; clipped and overly-compressed in those with Edward/Bella.  (You can see which team I’m on.)

Also, though the movie promised a lot of Robert Pattinson (in all the ghostly Edward images), there really is not enough.  What’s especially lacking is any exposition of why Bella is so crazy about Edward.  Pattinson’s looks and innate charisma go a long way, but, if you had not read the books and/or were not already fascinated by Edward, it would be hard to understand Bella’s ongoing loyalty.  Their relationship is simply not fleshed out—where are all the “sleepovers”?   While both Kristen Stewart and Pattinson are more openly emotional in this movie, the script keeps them in a narrow channel.   (Bella’s relationship with her father, played by the wonderful Billy Burke, has more nuance.)

Partly this is a problem of a sequel.  Several sequences seem like much ado about nothing, simply because the background story is not really introduced.  (The repeated screaming in the sleep, the skipping chase scene with Victoria.)

Perhaps that unfortunate sound track is supposed to set a greater emotional context, but it mainly conveys that someone in the sound crew loves soupy scales.  (It’s like elevator music that actually goes up and down.)

I felt sorry for Rachel LeFevre (Victoria), who was much more angular, red, and menacing in this film (and will be replaced for the next.)

The audience very much appreciated Jacob’s bulked-up shoulders; Pattinson’s every entrance was greeted with glee.  An amazing number of men were in the audience;  men towed along by girl friends.  These guys were generally very well-behaved, although in the movie’s moments of greatest longing, loss, and/or romantic reconciliation, distinct guffaws echoed through the aisles.

In short, a bit of a disappointment, and yet, well….I may just like it better second time through.