Holy christ, I wanna star this one a hundred times.
James Cameron and “Avatar” : The New Yorker
100 words in and I’m hooked for obvious reasons.
via mrgan
Here’s my Top-Ten movies of the “Noughties” that I threw together in about ten minutes:
I saw There Will Be Blood four times in three months. I don’t really watch dramas more than once.
A draft of really cold air comes in while I’m try to shower.
R.E.M. So. Central Rain (26/07/84 Solid Gold Hits, NYC, New York, USA)
It wasn’t until early 1989 that Peter Buck learned there was actually no such thing as a “cuff link allergy.”
Dude looks like he’s doing the drums a favor by not spanking them too hard. Good tune, though.
One of these days, I’m going to create a book entitled How In The Hell That Thing Got There.
Inside will be tons of images of clearly out-of-place stuff found on the street. Along with each photo will be a one-page, fictional short story that explains how in the hell things like that end up where they end up.
These deliciously fashionable* boots, for example, were found on my walk to dinner, in a patch of sidewalk greenery. By all accounts, these should not be here. And so, of course, I’m just going to assume this was simply a case of spontaneous human combustion.
*No.
Alright, Let’s do this!
===================================
Judith hobbled awkwardly down steep Sutter Street. The chic heels she’d selected now only made the hill more treacherous. The heels didn’t spend much time considering what they were doing taking their human cargo on such a steep trek; instead, they pondered more the emanations coming from the bottoms of her feet. Judith’s other shoes had been discussing the emanations in their nightly closet-congress, and now the Chic Heels were observing it first-hand. ”Well, I hope it’s nothing too serious,” the Chic Heels thought using the shoe-brains they surely had.
So far, all of the theories put forth in the closet-congress about the emanations were far off the mark. The truth was known only by God, who had been watching Judith from the Pope’s brain all week. God, being an armchair physicist and with an eye keener than most, could observe that Judith’s body had been amassing epsilon particles by the score for several days. ”It’s likely because of all that built-up stress”, He thought aloud to the Pope’s brain, which wasn’t paying attention.
Epsilon particles, as God would tell you were He able to, build up in a person’s body naturally during the course of a day, and are released when he or she swears in the presence of an angel (a rare hydrogen-nitrogen-radium compound). Because most people swear regularly, epsilon particles are rarely a serious problem, but for Judith, they were reaching a reverberating chorus.
Judith had been increasingly keen on life as of late, and as such, didn’t realize the missing swears herself.
Her ankles, however, were not so keen on having to carry her down the steepness of Sutter Street, and they began complaining to their close friend the Brain about their frustrations. The Brain, always the listener, absorbed the complaints and poured them into the big chemical vat where it stored all its dreams and feelings and other rubbish.
Suddenly, one of the ankles twisted itself and screamed a particularly loud complaint upward. The vat of chemicals surged and overflowed upstairs, causing Judith to make a swear. The swear, a powerful one by all conventions, was joined by a mass exodus of epsilon particles which, when they came into contact with all the angels on Sutter Street, started a chain reaction and consumed Judith whole.
The Chic Heels were surprised, and decided to catch their breath in the patch of sidewalk greenery where they’d landed. ”Wait ‘til the others in the closet hear of this!”, they thought to each other, and to a passerby with a camera.
