Inspired by this post, I choose the limited media I’d take with me to a desert island. One season of TV, one short, 10 feature films. No genre guidelines, but I’ll cover most of my bases.
This list is subject to change. Often and rapidly.

1). Buffy Season 6. I already named Buffy as the one show I’d take to a desert island. (more reasons here, if you really need them). Though I considered taking Gilmore Girls Season 5 (witticism and pop culture!) or Freaks and Geeks (those actors!) or The Wire Season 4 (The Wire Season 4!), Buffy Season 6 has “Once More With Feeling,” as well as “Tabula Rasa” and a few of the show’s stronger dramatic arcs.

2). Destino. Because, for the love of all that is holy.

3). The Seventh Seal. Where better to contemplate life, death, love, God, impotent rage, injustice, friendship, the inevitable, and contrast-filled B&W imagery, than a desert island?

4). Moulin Rouge. Because when I want a musical, a romp, an orgasmic extravaganza, David Bowie and The Police, it’s a one-stop-viewing.

5). Inglourious Basterds. Or Jackie Brown. I may have to flip a coin.

6). Beaches of Agnes. One of the most striking movies, let alone documentaries, I’ve seen.

7). Singin’ in the Rain. I can’t leave the best musical of all time – or Donald O’Conner – behind.

8). Goodfellas. Any time I am channel flipping and this movie is on, I stop to watch. Then I remember censorship, and I go get my DVD.

9). Vertigo. I’ve already seen Rear Window more times than half the movies on this list put together. I feel there’s a lot in Vertigo that I have yet to really dissect and dig through. Also, the rules don’t say anything about DVD extras.

10). His Girl Friday. What’s a desert island without Cary Grant?

11). Some Like it Hot. Dirty, physical, brilliant comedy.

12). Seven Samurai.

What movies do you love, but probably wouldn’t make it to a desert island?

I usually underline and often annotate my books as I read, so I was thinking of tweeting quotes and general thoughts, adorned with hashtags and the usual accoutrements. Thinking of a short, generic hash prefix that I can add an identifying word to. For example, #LTB for Live Tweeting Books, and then a key word from what I’m reading. #LTBmirth, or #LTBfeverpitch or #LTBlonelystreetnoirgenreandmasculinity

Ok maybe some things I read aren’t exactly suitable for this sort of exercise. In fact, I don’t think any sentence from that last book would fit within the 140 character limit. But I am just spitballing here, so:

What are your thoughts? Would you be interested in following my feed, or doing the same with whatever you’re reading right now? Do you have a better hashtag idea, or suggestions for what books I should tweet?

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The last 40% of the song holds the last 69% of the words:

From the sky, the train tracks look like stitches.
Like they’re holding the world together; like it’ll blow any minute.
And I’ve got another thought I’ll keep to myself.
Until the skeletons walk free. Until the make-up all comes off.
There’s nothing new to discover, there’s nothing new to invent.
There’s nothing new to think that hasn’t been thought of before.
And there’s nothing to believe we haven’t already forgotten.
There’s nothing left, there’s nothing new, there’s nothing—
No, no, no, no.
And I’ve got another dream I’ll keep to myself.
Until the tyrants are dead and the patriots are swallowed whole.
And I’ve got a bottle I can aim at the center,
Full of letters, as a kid, I’d always meant to send.
We’d speak our minds and change the world.
We’d fix the past and pave the way.
But now we’re fresh out of heroes; now we’ve run dry on hope.
There are no saviors in technology: just quick fixes.
And holes, within holes, within holes, within you.
And a place to hang my head, and convince myself there is no difference.

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I leaned a little out the window
Saw my body down below
Eleven stories to the bottom
I never thought I’d fall so fast
And in that dark and dreadful glimpse
Of what it is to not exist
With twisted limbs to sleep forever
On wet cement and broken glass

Today I got an e-mail from the director of Street Pulse, a documentary about homeless in Madison that I and two others have been working on for the past several months.

One of the homeless men that was part of the same support group as those we’re following passed away December 23rd. I don’t know all the details of his situation, any family, or his wishes. He was found in a public place where he was likely just trying to sleep in relative warmth. He died of natural causes.

The past several months I’ve seen an answer to every objection about ‘the homeless.’ I have met the human refutation to “they’re just lazy” and “they want to be homeless” and “they deserve (through crime, lack of work, etc) to be ‘that way.’” The first issue with all these statements is their blanketting. People have many reasons to be homeless, which may include one or many of the following: mental illness, personal tragedy, crime, no family, estranged family, poor family, sins of youth, crippling drug use, lack of understanding/basic social skills, alcoholism, physical limitations, enjoyment of living outside societal norms, natural disaster, parole restrictions, spousal or parental abuse, and many more.

This isn’t about political BS or ‘why aren’t there more shelters’ or ‘what about the Capitol basement’ or ‘the safety of the rest of the community.’ This is about those of us who aren’t homeless. Reasons for homelessness are as innumerable as those in need, and no one answer can ‘solve’ the problems, but that’s no excuse for not helping your neighbor. In 2012, can you donate to a shelter, buy a sandwich and coffee for someone who asks for change, give to someone just a step away from the streets? Tell them it’s for Billy.

The Artist (2011)
100 minutes
PG-13*
France, Belgium
Romance / Comedy / Drama

*One ‘intense situation,’ a hand gesture, and a few mouthed imprecations and heavenly implorations are apparently too much for the MPAA. Chaplain’s implied cocaine use would surely draw an R nowadays.

Let’s get first things out of the way first. Yes, The Artist is a foreign film, but you won’t notice that a bit. Yes, The Artist is black and white, and almost exclusively without spoken dialogue or sound effects. No, it’s not pretentious or ‘too artsy’ – as if something could be such a thing. No, you don’t have to have seen Singin’ in the Rain or Sunset Boulevard or Modern Times to appreciate the type of film or its references. It stands on its own merits, and they are many.

The actors are properly cast for their facial ability or our ability to recognize their faces, including Malcom McDowell and Beth Grant in barely-there roles, and James Cromwell as, essentially, the chauffer from both Sabrina movies. Extras, walk-on, and minor roles are filled to perfection.

The aspect ratio, costumes, and lighting are, of course, all spot-on, and the choice to shoot at 22fps (I’m guessing) was perfect. Though it’s slightly grainy and ‘soft,’ thank heavens they didn’t feel the need to overtly distress anything in post.

The Artist relies on actors, costumes, and plot to be obvious and exaggerated so it needs few title cards, but it pays due diligence to details, too. Watch the cinema marquees when our hero crosses various streets. Note how the dog’s trick and a throwaway joke foreshadow both horrible and hilarious things to come. Read the minor newspaper stories surrounding the headlines which serve to update us on the plot.

Most plot types are represented, including musical, drama, comedy, adventure, dance, melodrama, animal antics, and romance. The film understands how each of those genres operated in the silent era, and plays them without sign of parody.

Of course, a film can have all its parts right and never come together, but The Artist works on every level. The music occasionally doesn’t fit quite right, and in trying to cover all genres it never rises to true greatness in any one, but none of this is crippling. Even when casting leaves romantic chemistry somewhat dubious it works as a [intentional?] nod to Old Era filmmaking and detracts not a bit from the movie overall.

It’s been rumored this could be the first silent film since The Patriot in 28/29 to be nominated for Best Picture. I’d put my money on that, and also hope The Academy realizes a film like this, incorporating almost every genre and paying homage to some of the best films of all time, can be a better choice for winner than a strong picture by a celebrated director, or a wrenching drama with a superb actor.

The Artist is a well-done, enchanting piece of art. If you have two hours to spend on a film this season, you could consume a better film that would make you feel a whole lot worse, or you could lose yourself in this delightfully well-spun confection.

As for the last little bit, it was a touch sweet for my taste; but then, that’s why it’s called taste.

Email

• Sending: I carefully construct (occasionally save as a draft to reread later before hitting that button of finality) and consider.
• Replying: if it requires a reply, I do. If it’s a long reply, I carefully follow the same general outline, numbering my paragraphs if the sender did.

Facebook/Twitter

• Sending: I throw all my initial thoughts down, give it a once-over, and send.
• Replying:
  - If you’re not family, I reply only if it really requires / sparks a response.
  - If you’re family, I reply nomatterwhat, to forestall texts/calls/follow-up messages to ascertain whether I’m still alive (true story).
  - If it is in-depth/funny but doesn’t require a reply, I may like/favorite it in acknowledgement.

Texting (the best way to reach me)

• Sending: My tone alters a bit depending who I’m talking to. I can text a bit of a novel, but I also have a decent idea whose phones break my messages after 160 characters. For them, I try to be concise, or at least I try to make it so the break will best not-interrupt my flow of thought.
• Replying: I almost always acknowledge a text, unless the incoming is obviously concluding a conversation. The only way to really acknowledge is a reply, and thus I occasionally worry it seems like I’m trying to get ‘the last word.’ But I’d rather that than leave dead air.

How do you handle your textual interactions?

Some mock the attention I give text messages: proper punctuation and capitalization, correct spelling, etc. I feel doing otherwise leads me to sloppiness in other writing.* I know some people prefer quickness, economy of characters, or avoidance of predictive-text systems. Yippie for them, but I’m set in my ways, and my type.

How do you type across different mediums?

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*Also why I don’t use colloquialisms loosely. Dangerous things, colloquialisms!

But I started worrying that would be taken as a sign that I was just running my hands under the water, and that may cause people to worry when I do things like prepare food, shake hands, or touch the TV remote. Now, even if I press the top and somehow manage to miss the right place, I will take time to depress the button so [Jingle Bells / Deck the Halls / Over the River and Through the Woods / Unidentified Cheery Song] will play.

Do I care too much about what people think? Do I overpsychoanalyze? I think the answers to these questions have been well established. As the ad threatens assures me, either I deal with my phobias, or I’ll have to face (hand?) the music for a good long while. Any pressure applied should be from me to the pump, not the other way around. I’m taking back Christmas! JINGLE THAT, SOAP DISPENSER!

• I make gifts: jewelry, decor, in one case a table.
• I buy things on the cheap/free: I often pick things up throughout the year. I’ve also won things a few times for the express purpose of gifting.
• I give used. I browse second-hand or ‘antique’ stores (the non-expensive kind, not the ‘hey this crap is old so we’ll add a zero to the end of the price!’ kind). One friend and I have a tradition of exchanging a book we’ve read during that year, one that we stumbled upon but neither of us would have heard of otherwise. The underlinings and markings are the best part.
• I give practical.
•  I splurge a little bit because I like to, not because I feel at all guilted by the people I’m giving to or external messages about ‘the reason for the season.’

Then comes the wrapping. I love wrapping, but I’m not very good at it. I also have weird perfectionist streaks, which explain why I’ve been known to finish and then tear the wrapping from a rectangular box where the paper created too many angles.

I finally had to overcome that, because wrapping paper is expensive. Reusable bags and boxes and tissue paper it is! It’s like I’m giving you two gifts. One of which I expect to get back next year – at least a reasonable likeness. This reciprocal wrapping will hopefully last us our entire life.

What’s your gifting theory? Do you have a special someone you can throw a lot of thought/cash at? Do you give ‘service’ gifts, like changing oil or babysitting? Do you give everyone a food sampler or wine? Do you not do Christmas gifts in general? Do you use one of the wrapping stations at malls or on run by cute little scouts, or do you wrap them in the comics section of the newspaper, or shopping bags, or not wrap them at all?