I've checked in on more of the shows for the new season, so here are some first impressions.

Celestial Method seems like it has potential, aiming for the "dramatic yet cute" segment.

I Can't Understand What My Husband Is Saying is short (3-minute episodes) and funny, squarely targeting the more grown-up anime-watching crowd (and no, that's not an oxymoron).

I haven't been able to watch the entire first episode of Wolf Girl and Black Prince because the comedy is cringe-inducing, similar to Watamote.  (Not as in bad, as in wanting to shout "NO don't SAY THAT augh you said it" at the main character.)

CROSS ANGE and Akatsuki no Yona both seem to be going for the Gritty Drama segment, and both are well-made enough that I'll be checking out more episodes.

At first The Fruit of Grisaia seems like it's going to be this season's That Show, but it actually seems to have some traces of plot under the surface, so I'll watch some more.  TRINITY SEVEN looks like a better candidate for That Show, to the point where I haven't felt inspired to watch the entire first episode.  We'll see.

Probably not going to continue watching Terraformars​; guro really isn't my thing.

Hey! Happy Thanksgiving to those wot celebrate it this weekend.

We just got back from dan's parents' place in southern PA. I'm thankful for a pair of mellow parents-out-of-law, who were great hosts, offered us the right amount of entertainment, sat with us and read companiably at other times, and fed us a delicious turkey dinner.  

I'm thankful for a drive through windy twisty roads today, which were fun, and gorgeous with the fall foliage.

I'm thankful for a partner who makes me laugh, makes me think, and frequently prompts me to say "that is a really good idea."

And I'm thankful for a wonderful home to come home to, now containing three fairly sleepy mammals.

If you're reading this, we have a posting queue now!

Here's how it works:

OLD THOUGHT PATTERN: "I would post this skydiving kitten pic but I might write War and Peace later and then I wouldn't be able to post it today, which would be very sad."

NEW THOUGHT PATTERN: "I'll just click 'queue' instead of 'post now' and it'll be posted for me, just before midnight, if I haven't posted something else that day. Oooo, handy!"

Yes, it says your post will appear tonight. But no worries: if you post something better by then, it'll automatically wait for tomorrow night.

In addition, you can have multiple posts still in "draft" form. Your current post-in-progress has always been automatically saved for you as a draft. Now you can click the "drats" button, click "New Draft" and start a second post-in-progress. Start as many drafts as you need.

Sean and I think we've done this in such a way that some will value and benefit from it, and others will cheerfully ignore it, and everyone will be happy. Your feedback on the reality is welcome.

We just got home from Thanksgiving at my parents' place, in southern Pennsylvania.  ("But it's not Thanksgiving there, right?" "Yes, that's right.  But they're retired.  Every weekend is a long weekend for them.  The issue is when we have a long weekend.")

It's still funny to me.  They moved back to Lancaster County 2.5 years ago, after being away for 25 years; we moved when I was 12.  So it's home, but it's the home I don't really know how to get around in (I never drove there), and the home I never had any adult responsibilities in.  I have no idea how far it is from the middle school to where I grew up (it was a long time on the bus).

I wish it were an easier drive there (the wonderful roly-poly Pennsylvania hills, which make my soul sing in a way almost nothing else does, also prevent convenient north-south roads, though it must be said that Google thinks my little detours added a full 48 minutes to what is already a very long day's drive), but it's just a joy visiting there. 

It's also great that my parents are much more relaxed post-retirement than pre-.  There are all kinds of standard health issues (my dad is about to become guy-in-his-60s-number-23582509121-who-gets-new-knees), but all told, I think they're happier than they have been in years, which is good news indeed.

So I am thankful.

Last night I stayed up until 3:44 am, reading Gillian Flynn's Dark Places and Sharp Objects. They were as compelling and painful as a very bad hangnail you have to worry away at all night. Serious nail biters will understand. 

There's a lot of talk about Flynn's work lately (particularly Gone Girl) as anti-feminist, containing Men's Rights Activist language, misogynist, or a combination of these. 

What I like about Flynn's work is the notion that evil exists and women are capable of it. I don't think that's anti-feminist. 

When I was working on Fox Haven, I included a scene between the two adult women in the play, talking about the effect the main event of the play had on the larger community. I was criticized for including the scene, claiming that it slowed the play down, and that was actually fair. But I finally confessed to my director that it bothered me that the play didn't pass The Bechdel Test. In fact, the scene itself barely passed The Bechdel Test, because it started with, "Where's Tim?" 

There were a lot of points where the play told me I was being a bad feminist, for, say, having a teenaged girl with eating disorders be a major part of the plot, or having a mean lady be a mean lady. Then I finally just threw up my hands and went back to square one, which is that if you don't have fully-rounded female characters who sometimes do bad things, and have female characters who only do good things, you're as bad as writers who put in women as set dressing (like Courtney Cox in Ace Ventura). 

So, yeah, kudos to Flynn for shining a light on a kind of evil we didn;t want to think about. 

Thanksgiving is today.

"What?!"

Yeah.

It's one of those Canadian things, like not having dollar bills, or saying "sorry" when someone bumps into you, or having a vibrant media content creation sector despite a neighbouring permeable border beyond which is an economy over 10x as large, or universal health care.  Zing!

We have Thanksgiving in early October because that's harvest time; winter comes early -- there was frost on my roof yesterday morning. Thanksgiving is today because all our stuff is freshly killed today, not six weeks rotten come late November.

(Pause to check snark meter. Okay, not edging into overload, we're good.)

I'm thankful for cats, and for good music. And for video games that are enjoyable diversions. And for readable books. For bright, sunny blue sky days. And for rainy days that make shit grow so I can eat it or smell it. (Except for windy, rainy days when it's about 3C. Seriously, fuck those days, that's bullshit weather.) 

Thankful we live in a place where we don't usually need a car. Thankful my last support payment was just sent (some of you who are reading this will remember when that began, over 11 years ago). Thankful my kids have grown into well functioning adults with good jobs and engaging lives of their own (not thankful for recently entrained dogmatic morality; he'll get over it).

Thankful for continued good health. Thankful for friends, wherever they may be at the moment. Thankful for a mostly liberal community, though it is far too engaged in startup fever than is wise. 

And, I'm thankful for a smart and wise partner.

It was around 11pm last night and Matt and I snuggled in to watch Frank.  I had just turned off my ringer when my phone lit up; I didn't see it, but Matt said, "Looks like someone's calling you."  I really hate talking on the phone and was about to dump the call when I noticed it was my BFF Patty (the writer) who lives in L.A.  Patty never calls (we both hate talking on the phone), so I figured I'd better answer it because something's gotta be pretty damn important for her to call me at 11pm on a Saturday night.

"Hello?"  (I could hear she was someplace crowded.)

"Jill-Maaaaan! Guess what? I'm at Beatlefest right now!" (Patty is a HUGE Beatles fan.)

"No way! Is it amazing?"

"Yeah! But dude... someone wants to talk to you on the phone. Hang on."

"Wait! What? What's happening? Who?"

[*shuffle shuffle shuffle*]

"Hello, is this Jill?"

"Yes! Who do I have the pleasure to be speaking to?"

"This is Mark Rivera! Patty told me that you were sad that you couldn't be out here at Beatlefest, so I told her that we should give you a call!"

"HOMINA HOMINA HOMINA. Oh my god, this is crazy! Thank you!!"

"Calm down, calm down. It's just me!  Now Jill: Why aren't you here?"

"I live on the east coast!"

"Yeah? Well so do I!"

"Yeah, but you're playing in Ringo's band. I've got studio time."

"Where are you based out of?"

"I live in Delaware; just 25 minutes south of Philly."

"You said you're in the studio?"

"Yeah, we were there earlier today. We're working on our second full-length album."

"Cool, cool."

"Hey Mark, I've got to say, I've been a fan for as long as I can remember."

"Aw thanks, really."

"Yeah, but I need you to know, that I naturally love your work with Billy Joel, but I also picked up your solo album and I really love it. It's great to hear you out in front, man."

"Really? You picked up my solo album?"

"Of course! It's really great!"

"Thanks Jill, I really appreciate it."

"Well, I really appreciate you."

"Thanks! OK, I'm gonna give you back to Patty now. Have fun!"

"You too! Thanks so much, Mark-- you really just made my day, week, month, year!"

"Hahahaha, no problem at all. Take care. Peace and gratitude."

"Right back at you, sir. Thanks again."

It went by so fast, and I felt like a goober. Part of me felt like, This is just a guy, and he's a musician and so am I.  I can talk to him. We have things in common. I'm not implying I'm remotely in the same ballpark as him, but we speak a similar language, and that's cool.  And part of me was like, OH MY GOD BILLY JOEL'S AND RINGO STARR'S SAX AND PERCUSSION PLAYER! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!  

I tried really hard to straddle the line between being composed and professional and "this is no big deal, we're just people" and giving him the fangirl-squee "I'm gonna make this girl's day" freakout that I imagine he was hoping for, and also being understandable considering he was on a crowded expo floor. I think I did OK. 

Patty called me back a few minutes later and said that she ran out to her car and gave Mark a copy of (our album) 39 Summers. She only had the disc (not the CD case or the insert), but she said he was really flattered and promised to listen to it. 

She went back to Beatlefest today, and she texted me to say that she brought the jewel case / CD insert with her to BeatleFest today hoping to bump into Mark again so she could give it to him.  They saw each other, and as soon as he saw her he said, "Where's Jill?"  So she said, "She's still out east, but here's the jewel case that goes with the CD."  He still had the CD in his murse so he put them together. I doubt he'll listen to it, but ya never know. 

It's just so silly. 

I can't tell if he's the kind of guy who gets stalked a lot, or if he's the kind of guy who wishes he got stalked, y'know? 

I'm just kicking myself for not asking him questions, like, what kind of mouthpiece does he use, how the hell does he get his altissimo sound so perfect every single time, etc etc etc. But at the same time, it was a 3 second jokey phone call; it's not like I was gonna interview the guy FFS. 

I'm gonna be in NYC on Friday to see Matt's play and I'll likely have a few hours to kill while he's doing director and playwrighty things... so I hit Mark up via Twitter and asked him to coffee. It may come as a total shock to you that he hasn't replied. 

Anyway. 

It is exciting / interesting to see that I've come a long way from my 1985 total and complete meltdown when I talked to Billy Joel on the phone and all I did was cry my face off, and the Z-100 Morning Zoo made fun of me mercilessly. (Billy was sweet, though.)  I can think of no greater humiliating moment in my life. My brother taped the conversation and would torment me with it over the years, which in retrospect is hilarious, but at the time I was horrified as any good 9th grader would be. :)  This is what brothers are for. 

Allrighty, that's my exciting story for the weekend! Time for bed. I have to get my body clock back on schedule... I'm traveling / teaching for the next 3-4 weeks waking up bright and early, and it's gonna be a big ol' adjustment. It'll feel good though, too.  Looking forward to the home stretch of the year.

(x-posted to xtingu.livejournal.com)

Matt Casarino lays down the law on film, music and general cultural awesome.

Shelle Klein Houser has been calling attention to worthy newcomers in her posts. My, aren't I meta.

Lindsay Harris observes the odd moments of life with good humor.

Jill "xtingu" Knapp shares the ongoing saga of Hot Breakfast, the band that proved it only takes two to rock.

And L. M. Lopez asks the eternal question we all struggle with daily: are our neighbors getting jiggy right now? And do we really want to know?

Also killin' it: every single person who is posting about their life or whatever the hell they want to post about. With or without seriousness or premeditation or humor or pictures or video or verbs. I am glad you are here and I am glad you are sharing with your friends and, when you feel like it, with the rest of us.

Just a few disorganized thoughts on the movie Frank, which is often wonderful and often stupefyingly frustrating:

• Michael Fassbender is a brilliant actor. What he does with body language is fascinating; he never reaches or pushes too far. 
• There's a fine line between being surprised by a movie and feeling jerked around by arbitrary plot and tone shifts.
• A movie/play is at its most maddening not when it's bad, but when you can feel the writer & director on the verge of brilliance, but they won't let themselves sustain it because they don't trust in what they've created. 
• I'm not sure how 80 - 110 minutes became a length standard for American films. I'm all for trimming the fat, but the last two new movies I've watched - Frank and the Grand Budapest Hotel - might have benefited from at another half hour, as long as it was used wisely.
• Still, both movies also introduced unnecessary plot threads. Grand Budapest features stunningly glorious visuals and revels in very precise human behavior and language, but the tall tale keeps getting sidetracked by its own whimsy as it unfolds. (No matter - it's still fantastic.) Frank, on the other hand, doesn't have enough faith in the titular character, the music he creates, and the way he affects those around him, and sends us on a Part Two that feels like a different, dumbed-down movie - one that ignores some of the more interesting questions asked in Part One. Worse, a good portion of the latter half hinged on the wildly inconsistent behavior and motivations of the "audience character," John, who makes some remarkably stupid choices. The more we consider what he's been through, the less sense his behavior makes. 
• I love Maggie Gyllenhaal. She is a fearless actress who looks like a real person. Her character in Frank is far from "likable," but Gyllenhaal gives her dimensions and steers clear of cliche and stereotype. We get her. It's an excellent performance.
• There are a couple characters in Frank who are absolute ciphers. I'm blaming you, screenwriters. I realize you wanna focus on the lead singer with the giant fake head, but you gotta give the rhythm section something.
• The first fifteen minutes are beautifully executed. They're funny, mysterious, and entertaining. 
• At times, Frank does a great job of exploring and questioning the link between mental illness and creativity. But it's deflating when some of the mental illness becomes the kind of movie mental illness that only flares up to create conflict or propel the plot in a different direction (consider Frank's "likable" song). The actors sell it best they can, though.
• Despite my issues with the John character, I really like how he thinks he changes and grows during the course of the movie, when he's actually regressing a bit. That's something you don't see much. 
• It's good to have themes in movies. But it's less good to allow a character, late in the film, to explain one of the themes to you. In case you missed it.
• It's perilous to portray the results of creativity in a movie. Consider, for example, how bland and tuneless poor Mr. Holland's opus turned out to be. But the music in Frank is breathtaking. It's alive. There are a thousand ways the music we hear could have gone wrong, but it's kind of exhilirating how well the songwriters and musicians walked that tightrope. The word "amazing" is way overused, but some of this music amazed me.
• Despite my frustrations with the movie, I recommend Frank (which I have been dying to see for weeks now), especially to those with a fascination for offbeat music. It'll stay with you, and it's often entertaining and smart, even when it isn't. 

• Finally: Jill and I were very happy to see certain musicians thanked in the credits. 

If you've seen Frank and wanna talk about it, make with the comments. Jill and I would love to hear your thoughts. It's that kind of movie. 

Ridiculously excited because my husband and I will embark shortly on our first date night since ...

wait for it ...

wait for it ...

January, when we splurged on a good meal and saw A Bronx Tale. 

Tonight it's Rodizio's Brazilian Steak House for dinner to indulge our inner carnavores and then Young Frahnkenshtein at the Civic Little Theater in Allentown. 

Time to beautify!