Trying something new

Ladies and gentlemen. I'm not saying good bye with this, I'm just saying I've got a new toy:http://notthegiraffe.wordpress.com

For those of you who read this regularly -- and have reason to keep up with this other than the apparent rockstar SE optimization I did on a pair of posts that have culled traffic from Germany, Russia (oh, have I gotten a lot from Russia), as well as parts elsewhere for what was essentially a very very dull post (one might venture prosaic(?)), well, here goes.

I'm not planning on shunting this one, but I've got a little bit of dialogue exercises I feel like fucking around with, and what better way to do so than by pulling crappy, corporate photos.

Enjoy it, kids.

And thus starts the new year

Another digest post. Click off now or forever hold your peace.

• Friday night, first the Brooklyneer, where, despite the guy in the "I'm trying to sell Sailor Jerry or at least introduce the world to the greater benefits of Don Ho and mayonnaise-laced teriyaki" shirt, the bar seemed okay. Actually, pretty decent, all the way around. But remember, it's the West Village, where people drink for the scenery, not for the "Public House" idea of the public house.
  
  
• Battleship Potemkin. In a phrase, lovely, dated, and I think it gave me ADD. And I cannot fault friend Daniel for bringing earplugs.

Thursday Morning Grab Bag, and a little bit of Gross

Discombobulated:

• I will get this out of the way: as someone who had only once in his life ever ice skated for the grand total of free, I have to give a rousing endorsement to The Pond in Bryant Park. That is, at 8 a.m.
  
  
• I have had to twice defend my position of disliking Terry Gross, and I didn't even have last night's episode for an exhibit. C.I.P. In a conversation with Lena Dunham, the director of Tiny Furniture, she could not keep away from the middle brow catnip of "So how much of this story is really you?", stretching it to an infuriating

In defense of savagery (or, the year in review)

Herzog. I realize I haven't talked about the novel yet, not having formed words or opinions into full thought, and I won't do that here. What I will say is that all the revile, pissery, joy, exhaustion related to Bellow's masterwork is justly earned. It's also a grand example of a constructed from the solitary perch of anger and partial savagery vacillating to sweet. In other words, art.

Jingles and Ho-Ho-Hos

Movie notes from the weekend, which otherwise involved Christmas Eve-rolled to morning drinks and a compliment on my teeth. Amid a showdown between a bartender and a patron over who could be the most charming (the answer: both and neither).

The movie reviews, in haiku form:

I am happy to report

The records of impending demise as a result of severe neurosis were highly...suspect.

In honor:

And now, a word from our Sponsor, 2010 edition

While I'm not campaigning to be the world's greatest eccentric -- heaven forbid with the likes of Daniel Johnston and Michelle Bachmann milling about, I'd have about as much credence in that role as a two-legged pachyderm.

But! But I do have at least one quirk I'm happy to divulge and take the infamy/log into the running for contemporary log lady supreme.