Jan 192014

So I watched Frances Ha the other day. There’s something about Greta Gerwig that keeps making me go back to the well, even though her starring dramatic roles almost invariably leave me cold. I prefer my Greta as a supporting or ensemble player in genre pictures. Like in The House of the Devil or Baghead. I thought with Frances, perhaps she’d finally been offered the opportunity to make the film she wanted. After all, she’s got a writing credit.

Well, Frances isn’t a particularly good movie. Sort of a mid-period Woody Allen imitator, with a dash of Lena Dunham and Whit Stillman thrown in for good measure. It’s okay, and it’s definitely an improvement over her virtually unwatchable collaborations with Joe Swanberg (at least Hannah and Nights). But it still is at its core a non-Wes Anderson Noah Baumbach picture, which for me is always prone to disappointment.

Will I rush out to see any forthcoming GG features? Likely I’m just as cautious as I had been before, so no. But I can’t help thinking there’s a spark there that is really appealing. And if she would only get a more strong-armed agent, she might make better career choices overall.

 Posted by at 10:02 am
Jan 182014

Opened a bottle of white that came in a gift basket we received within the past month. Windwhistle moscato. Powerful nose, with asparagus and celery. A great deal of residual sugar. Virtually no flavor profile. D took a sip, made a “yuck” face, and said it reminded her of a wine her mother used to like. So I’m stuck finishing the bottle.

I can’t say I’d buy it, but it’s starting to grow on me. I started thinking that if someone just took this wine and made it sparkling, it might bear an uncanny resemblance to Cel-Ray. And would be at home in a Jewish delicatessen.

 Posted by at 6:19 pm
Jan 142014

I have a routine. Well, I attempt to have a routine, that usually falls apart sometime mid-morning, and sometime falls apart before I even wake up. One aspect of this routine involves a couple of cups of coffee–aside: why is it a cup of coffee, not a mug of coffee–to get the ol’ brain working. And to get the ol’ bowels moving. These cups of coffee are made at home with an old school Mr. Coffee drip machine. What happens, though, when I don’t quite get around to going to Freddy’s or TJ’s for beans? Well, I end up purchasing an espresso drink from Bar Francis.

What does all this have to do with Gavin Rossdale, the former front-man of the popular, if somewhat critically reviled, 90s British guitar band Bush? The not-brewed-at-home coffee doesn’t make an appearance until after I’m at work. A couple of hours after I wake. And well after I ordinarily see some movement downstairs. Absent the early-morning cuppa, I’m stuck with decidedly non-loose stool. And so I have to force it. Here comes Mr. Rossdale. His singing style (at least on the popular hits) seems to be motivated primarily by constipation, and so, at least for this limited purpose, acts as motivational singing.

So thank you, Mr. Rossdale. You’re not as tasty or pleasant as coffee, but you get the job done.

 Posted by at 6:25 am