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Thursday Morning (Early)
Mar. 27th, 2008 01:58 amAlmost through the last week of this semester, and pretty damn happy to be so. I haven't been good for much, otherwise. Luckily, this weekend is Ad Astra--I'll be reading sometime on Saturday, probably early in the morning, and doing a few panels as well; will try to post more specific details before Friday. Cal's been alternately chirpy and weepy, the latter possibly because I was home consistently, then wasn't anymore. His brave new trick is blurting: "What? What?!" all the time, almost reflexively...possibly this refers to me asking him (as I stupidly tend to, when he's melting down) "What?! What's wrong?" Not that he ever answers, obviously...
In other news, I'm back to noodling away at "Little Red Ants on a Hill"--yeah, I know I've said this before, but since I actually managed to finish one of Part 2's subsections last night, I'm further ahead than I was. And I'm also contemplating more Charlie/Jackson porn, basically so I can give Charlie the chance to lord it over someone else for once, Ben Wade-style; I may even juxtapose it with the Ben/Charlie porn I've already taken copious notes on, for maximum irony. As I was saying in response to a Charlie/Ben fanmix somebody posted over at threetentrain, it's just so nice to be part of an active fandom, for once; I mean, I know it'll slack off eventually, since it's A) a bottle universe in which B) most 'ships don't even work particularly well, since one or more of the participants is dead by the closing credits. But for now, it's pretty damn exciting.
Naturally, my sick love for Ben Foster in all his incarnations has already driven me to check out Nic Cassavetes' Alpha Dog, in which Ben plays a speed-jacking Jewish skinhead whose feud with a local suburban Hollywood drug-dealer ends up getting his little brother kidnapped (and killed--this isn't exactly a spoiler, since the whole film's explicitly based on a true story). The movie's pretty solid, from Foster on down: Justin Timberlake turns in a charismatically sensitive performance as the drug dealer's sidekick, while Emil Hirsch is amusingly ridiculous as the fake-hard drug dealer himself, a wannabe gangsta so short Ben towers above him (and constantly calls him "the midget" to his face). But for me, it's all about watching Ben's character, Jake Mazursky, put himself in increasingly crazy situations--whether it be counselling his brother on how to deal with his over-protective Mom (while drunk and high, with additional help from his hot, blonde, bespectacled Aryan girlfriend: "But she loooves you! You're her baaaby!"), trying to convince his telemarketing centre boss that he's not really back on speed ("Jake, so-and-so tells me you may be taking drugs again." "Whaaat? NOOO! I--I swear to fuckin' GOD, dude!"), breaking into Emil Hirsch's house with an axe and taking a shit on his rug, beating six guys up in quick succession at a party (and then screaming: "If you see Johnny Truelove, tell him Jake Mazursky is looking for him! THANK YOU!", before leaving), or letting Sharon Stone (as his stepmother, the little brother's Mom) slap him in the face until his nose starts to bleed (no, no--he essentially encouraged her to do that in real life. And believe me, it looks like it).
Much is made of Jake's own mother's role in how nuts he's turned out to be, though we never meet the woman onscreen. Going by his father's later choices, I assume she's probably some short, blonde, hot, insane shiksa--one also feels, by the end of the film, that Mr Mazursky Snr. must spend a fair amount of time wishing he'd just rented a storage locker and left Jake in there to raise himself while still paying child support, rather than agreed to Jake's Mom getting custody. (According to research I did on the real-life case, interestingly enough, the guy Jake's based on--also named Ben--has since gotten clean and sober, started a family of his own, and made up with his Dad/Step-mom. Says the latter: "It's weird that all this ended up bringing us closer, but eventually, even I had to admit that I missed him.")
Aaaanyways. I'm sure I'll be re-watching X3: The Last Stand any day now, though I think I'll avoid Hostage. Because there's only SO pathetic you can really let yourself become, even in the throes of fresh sexual obsession.;)
And now--bed.
In other news, I'm back to noodling away at "Little Red Ants on a Hill"--yeah, I know I've said this before, but since I actually managed to finish one of Part 2's subsections last night, I'm further ahead than I was. And I'm also contemplating more Charlie/Jackson porn, basically so I can give Charlie the chance to lord it over someone else for once, Ben Wade-style; I may even juxtapose it with the Ben/Charlie porn I've already taken copious notes on, for maximum irony. As I was saying in response to a Charlie/Ben fanmix somebody posted over at threetentrain, it's just so nice to be part of an active fandom, for once; I mean, I know it'll slack off eventually, since it's A) a bottle universe in which B) most 'ships don't even work particularly well, since one or more of the participants is dead by the closing credits. But for now, it's pretty damn exciting.
Naturally, my sick love for Ben Foster in all his incarnations has already driven me to check out Nic Cassavetes' Alpha Dog, in which Ben plays a speed-jacking Jewish skinhead whose feud with a local suburban Hollywood drug-dealer ends up getting his little brother kidnapped (and killed--this isn't exactly a spoiler, since the whole film's explicitly based on a true story). The movie's pretty solid, from Foster on down: Justin Timberlake turns in a charismatically sensitive performance as the drug dealer's sidekick, while Emil Hirsch is amusingly ridiculous as the fake-hard drug dealer himself, a wannabe gangsta so short Ben towers above him (and constantly calls him "the midget" to his face). But for me, it's all about watching Ben's character, Jake Mazursky, put himself in increasingly crazy situations--whether it be counselling his brother on how to deal with his over-protective Mom (while drunk and high, with additional help from his hot, blonde, bespectacled Aryan girlfriend: "But she loooves you! You're her baaaby!"), trying to convince his telemarketing centre boss that he's not really back on speed ("Jake, so-and-so tells me you may be taking drugs again." "Whaaat? NOOO! I--I swear to fuckin' GOD, dude!"), breaking into Emil Hirsch's house with an axe and taking a shit on his rug, beating six guys up in quick succession at a party (and then screaming: "If you see Johnny Truelove, tell him Jake Mazursky is looking for him! THANK YOU!", before leaving), or letting Sharon Stone (as his stepmother, the little brother's Mom) slap him in the face until his nose starts to bleed (no, no--he essentially encouraged her to do that in real life. And believe me, it looks like it).
Much is made of Jake's own mother's role in how nuts he's turned out to be, though we never meet the woman onscreen. Going by his father's later choices, I assume she's probably some short, blonde, hot, insane shiksa--one also feels, by the end of the film, that Mr Mazursky Snr. must spend a fair amount of time wishing he'd just rented a storage locker and left Jake in there to raise himself while still paying child support, rather than agreed to Jake's Mom getting custody. (According to research I did on the real-life case, interestingly enough, the guy Jake's based on--also named Ben--has since gotten clean and sober, started a family of his own, and made up with his Dad/Step-mom. Says the latter: "It's weird that all this ended up bringing us closer, but eventually, even I had to admit that I missed him.")
Aaaanyways. I'm sure I'll be re-watching X3: The Last Stand any day now, though I think I'll avoid Hostage. Because there's only SO pathetic you can really let yourself become, even in the throes of fresh sexual obsession.;)
And now--bed.
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