Elementary Funk
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Creativity starves insanityIt would have been the last day if not for the fact that it wasn't. Ten hours straight broken into two halves saw the eventual replacement of a mattress and a softened punch of foam bedding. Bedding not even to the standard lows of a futon. In times of obsessive compulsiveness the ordeal was most excruciating. Slammed around the house all the minutes before and then into the sacred sniffle of the supposed eight hour refuge. Tension. Frustration. Constant hand washing and double checking to make sure it was still "all clean."
Intermission for the impairment of memory loss sure to result from straining too hard against the will of gravity was provided by the saddening removal of five straight untouched years of dust and heavy cobwebs. Certain clumps were as thick as the linen itself.
The second half of the first half dealt with issues of constant and heavy sweating while bracing upright against a wall and not more than one foot of the ground. Misaligned and mishapened holes were no match against the struggling might of an Allen key and a klinky spanner in the works. Mustn't forget the warranty card.
Between the periods of nonstop suburban rain, a van stopped in the dead of the road and out clamboured a man looking for the right house number. Talks previous made mention of a delivery of a bed but the driver instead came toward the fence with a tube. Suspicious actions followed. Instead of handing off the postpak directly, the driver dropped the roll onto the inside of the front yard, jumped back in the van and sped off without a pause.
The ends were tampered with and pretty much violated. Inside was a movie poster from The Matrix sent from The Jam Factory in Melbourne.
It was Morpheus.
Who knows now if there might have been others.
As it has been for the past few years, missed out on most of the performances and stumbled upon the presentation of the votes from the nations which co-exist in a conglomerate known as Europe. Latvia hosted and for about until the second last batch of votes, looked to ring in dead last with nil poppers, the United Kingdom. The entry from Turkey won after some jostling over Russia and Belgium. If Turkey was a group effort it looked more like a solo act with clingy hangers on at the end of night repeat of the winning song. All seen through the thunderous snowstorm of interference.
Hours on end playing Max Payne, Grand Theft Auto 3 and Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3 started the fluid in the brain on the spin cycle and roasted the rinds to feel out of sorts of sorts. If the stomach was capable of popping in and out internally with a desire to inject some not so wholesome unholiness it didn't feel right at all. Throwing up would no doubt be a jerk reaction to the swaying back and forth of the sound waves bouncing endlessly off the padded walls.
As is the case of late, nothing was happening. As such a little talk was set up with the editor of a magazine with some idea. The setting was set in a cafe for coffee. They didn't want to notch up a nick on the tab for a plain and dwarfed cup of milk. The opposer ordered a regular of his regular and started to sip from the lip of the cup. Elbows and hands were taken off the tabletop and the whole thing just shook out half of the caffeine hit. Shock tactic.
The display outside the cinema was flaking apart and pretty much no one was around. What started off as a rather quiet audience of ten ballooned to thirty with the onset of high schoolers slanging it up. Felt pretty tense. The palms rammed into sweating overdrive.
Those fight scenes were as extreme as running late for yet another job interview. The battle scene with the hundred or so Agent Smiths at times had a few faces other than that of Hugo Weaving. Sounds of Neo flicking the Agents were similar to that of running into one of those pillars of light in GTA3.
At least at the end of the credits there were other people still watching. Watching for a teaser of Revolutions. One which makes LXG look too polished and mysterious.
Keeping the compost in the backyard is hard enough to contend with without having to deal with the fact that the whole area can at times swarm with flies and such blowoffs. When those flies intrude on the domicile they turn nasty and all of a sudden, know not of the exit which provided them the entrance. For the most part the house flies have changed their colours as well. Once sporting a mix of black and dark brown they're now just jet black. Word was it was due to the abundance of food outside giving them strength. Sickening.
A few weeks back there was an episode where Cordell and Trivett were in their pick-up listening to the radio when the theme song for Walker came on. Trivett tried to change it but Cordell wasn't having any of that and changed it back citing "now this, is music" and the theme song ended. A fortnight ago, maybe less, and in CDs, Trivett was grinning and talking the talk of when a show hits five years or so it gets syndication. Last night Walker was on the ground of a barn for what could have been the entire episode, spending it back in the past he awakes with an epiphany to question an accuser on whether or not the finger prints on the offending ax were his. This TV is getting weird.
Jawline. Not anywhere near the cult status of that of Bruce Campbell. Wisdom tooth ripped not only a gnashing hole in the side of the mouth from both top and bottom, but somehow managed to pop out a section of the jawline. Whether or not this turns into a face like that Burger King bra-man Samuel Johnson, hope wishes it won't.
Hard to tell whether or not the main character is a guy or a girl. Either way, the lines make everything else hard to determine, which is probably fitting given that the logo just looks like it wasn't trying to impress anyone from the onset. For something set in the Artic circle—or the other pole—a lot of black seems to have seeped into the pages. A Venom comic yet without the symbiote making a glorified appearance.
Champagne comedy, comedy gold and all that acerbic wit. Puts other variety and light-entertainment shows to shame. For shame that they would hold back on Shaun Micallef's insight. The programmes and pogram were diabolically funny. Nice to have back something of Australian television that involves an actual effort of work. Manages to keep on time too.
Staring blankly amidst the recently rearranged lines of comicbooks on the shelf, this little issue priced at only a scant 25 US cents.
Translation: 60 Australian cents.
There must have been a few years since the first X-Men movie and the launch of the Ultimate version of the mutants and an appearance of one of the many X-books among the collection.
The art felt rushed and justified for the subdollar amount it was asking for. But what really threw a spanner back into the toolbox looking for a hammer or chisel was the fact that the costumes do look like they were a blend of both the movie and Ultimate versions of the X-Men. Disheartening. No more garish outfits, instead, what looks more like uniforms. But they aren't revered like the Fantastic Four. So why the need? At least it wasn't over one dollar.
The expectedness of the event that came to bear on the Saturday of recent past imploded with a hint of discarded coins. The line up featured something along the lines of a free comic book in the day but appeared not. Then the second reason, the Powerhouse Museum, was not. Having discontinued the free Saturday entries given that no money was passed. The fallback of a free street magazine failed to emerge. Instead, a trip to the centre of the mall section of the city. Pitt Street. One hour, spent looking over the action figures wondering if a disconnected call actually meant something other than an abrut declaration of abortion. Mary-Jane has an action figure, yet Betty Ross is without. The poseable and articulated in several points Wolverine looks nothing like Hugh Jackman. But a chess set from the images in X-Men 2 resembled high class and expenditure.
Insert drill here.
Started off with a fantastic bamfing session from Nightcrawler and just kept delivering the eye and ear-candy goodness. The actors seemed to have really taken to understanding their characters a whole lot more and the special effects just complement the film so well.
It was entertainment driven for the most part by emotion. Definitely a great improvement on the first X-Men movie.
Cyclop's visor improved tremendously. There were a lot of sneaky cameos, Gambit/Remy LeBeau and Beast/Dr. Hank McCoy for instance. Look at the wrong place and you'll miss it. This time around the credits listed their codenames and real names, but in the movie half of them aren't even mentioned by any name at all. So Jubilee makes an appearance and the only tell tale signs are the enormous earrings on one of the girls in the X-Mansion.
Don't ever remember Colossus being a Peter Raputin in the comics.
No obvious need to watch the first one. Well drawn.
