And I feel qualified to say this, because I am a former Led Zeppelin diehard. Continue reading
Was Roland Orzabal of Tears for Fears a thief of dance? (Warning, GIFS)
There are beauty and ugly in the act of reflection. Looking back on a life lived is a nearly meta-experience. It’s watching a life happen that used to be yours but isn’t anymore. You’re the sum of that past you’s experiences and of years and years more. But as an artist creates over decades, they leave pieces of themselves behind in their work, concrete reflections, pieces of frozen time that can be re-examined both objectively and subjectively. You start to find common themes and enduring lessons once you connect the dots. Your history is evidenced. It’s hard not to. Continue reading
Greetings from Germany! I have been off the radar for a bit while I consume chocolate and sausage (wink wink). My significant other downloaded some episodes of The Strain, a show I was interested in because of the horror and gore after they subjected the world to the eye-worm advertisement. People freaked out, so I was instantly interested. I had no knowledge of the show other than the freakish gore part, hoping it might be a more sci-fi style American Horror Story with even creepier body horror. All this is a big “yay” for me.
I watched the first episode only. It was stunningly bad. I can’t believe anyone likes this. Here’s how to take a great idea and turn it into diarrhea.
I’m not particularly a contrarian by trade, and one could probably categorize me in the hipster file if they were so inclined, but I’m about to lay some hate on an institution that I think deserves it. I think New York Comic Con is a buzzkill. I think it does a disservice to fans and fandoms and it’s time I put it on blast. Continue reading
A celebration is in full effect in the ILWS household. I’ve been clutching my Human Being since last night, as I joyously digested the BEST NEWS EVER. Congratulations, Communies. And thanks to Yahoo Screen for seeing value in our little slice of television heaven.
Here’s my little present to the universe.
Wilfred is coming back for a final season, and I can’t wait. Wilfred is another one of those shows with that unique tonal flavor; dark, but with a half-twist of a smile, straddling clever writing and jokes about humping. I have no idea what to officially expect, mainly because I don’t watch trailers and commercials, and I don’t follow spoiler articles about guest stars and such. But I do know what I hope to see. Let’s refresh.
The cavalcade of mixed reactions to the conclusion of the “Pamela” three-parter is indicative of something positive about a show; that it is so highly affective that individual people will have remarkably different reactions. My experience live-tweeting it was met with a great deal of support and a little bit of ire. It isn’t wrong for people to question my feminism after my ultimately positive response. One of the advantages of feminism(s) is that the reactions and beliefs are varied, and in this specific instance, I will be departing from the mainstream of feminism by saying that the conclusion of Louie S4 was beautiful.
Do you remember what it was like being a kid?
So I sit here on a warm Friday night, warming my gullet with some Skinny shit vodka and diet coke It’s cucumber flavored vodka too. It smells a bit like a brand new purse and tastes like licking leather, which isn’t quite the same as toilet hooch (I’m guessing) but it’s enough to put me in that Orange Is The New Black zone. But I don’t want to binge on this, largely because I have work in the morning, but also because I swallowed the first season in one night and ended up forgetting half of it. I’ll be responding to this season in dribs and drabs over the weekend, decompressing slightly after each episode, as this leather liquor swirls in my gullet and the weekend passes. Continue reading