Nothing Romantic

12 07 2011

“You know,” I told my Dad earlier today, “There is nothing romantic about a summer rain in Seattle. Rain is only romantic if you live somewhere where it doesn’t rain ALL THE TIME.”
He nodded and grabbed his Snapple. “Yep. Rain is only romantic when it’s in a song about someone else.”

Needless to say, we’re on our third rainstorm today and it’s getting old fast.

In other news, I’m watching parts of “Kill Bill”. It’s pretty much just as weird and bloody as I remember. Suddenly I recall why I never sat through the whole thing in the first place. Also, what’s up with the asian kid in the plaid skirt? Did plaid suddenly become big in Asia? Lots of Scottish people wandering over for really good sticky rice and then forgetting to leave? Also, someone should tell her that her weapon was a poor choice. Things that work on inertia are insanely difficult to control.

In case you hadn’t figured it out yet, this is one of those stream-of-consciousness posts that happen when I’m too awake to sleep but not creative enough to paint.

Just watched a couple of really impressive martial arts movies: Ip Man and Ip Man 2. They’re both on Netflix instant watch if you want to check them out. Best part is that they are based on a true story. Second best part is that they are gloriously sparse on wire work. I detest martial arts movies that rely on wire work. (Another reason not to like Kill Bill). If you are going to make a movie about fighting the fighting should at least APPEAR realistic. Wire work is great for things like Matrix, where you are expected to suspend disbelief. But if the physics looks off in a real martial arts movie I get irritated and stop watching. Note- I’ve always been like this, even before I’d ever taken a Kempo lesson.

(Can someone remind me why Lucy Lui is the bad guy? I’m having trouble figuring out the stare-down that is happening right now…)

I just gave up on Kill Bill. Too boring. (Yes, I said BORING).

Basically my life has devolved (evolved?) into Kempo and painting. Supposedly I still have a job but I haven’t been there in four or five days so work is fading into a dim memory. The blessed haze of forgetfulness has settled over my memories of the box office, the house managing and most of all the lobby attending. Instead of work I work out. Thrice yesterday and a really intense weight day today mean that my body is gloriously gelatinous. Tomorrow I’m getting up and going for an hour long run. Hooray! (Means I get to use my new running watch!)

I’ve been working on some writing stuff lately, too, and lots of drawing. Also, I’m feeling my feelings to the best of my ability. Which is hard, because I have a lot of feelings these days.

Back to drawing. So long and thanks for all the fish!


Wellington, Day Six Viggo Mortenson and River Anduin

20 10 2007

Before you get all excited, no, we didn’t actually meet Viggo Mortenson (who will hereafter be referred to as VM). He was, however, our first topic of conversation.

Apparently VM stayed in one hotel for the entire 18 months that he was in NZ. He didn’t want a flat because then he would have had too much room. -The woman who cleaned his room rode the tour once and Jack pumped her for information.- He was very tidy and often he woudl have cleaned his room before the amids even got there. Not that it was much of a room to clean. he had asked for the smallest room in the place and it was little more than a glorified broom cupboard. He tipped well if the maids did a good job and he almost never had people over. I’ve heard him say that he wanted to ‘feel likeĀ a ranger’ and a ranger would NOT throw wild parties. Makes it hard to range with all those people asking for more gerkins.

We also discussed Liv Tyler who “you never hear anything but lovely things” about. What an incredible legacy! Read the rest of this entry »

Wellington, Day Five

17 10 2007

The next day dawned dark and dreary.

We slowly collected ourselves, showered and went to the Mr Bun cafe for breakfast. We had wanted crepes but the crepe shop was not yet open. French toast and pancakes had to suffice.

Our original intention was to visit the botanical gardens but it was pouring down rain. POURING. We barely made it to Dixon St before we began to feel like drowned rats. It was barely noon.

Being the bold leader and expert map-reader that I am, I led the girls down side streets, up stairs and around parking garages with reckless abandon. My sole aim was to find someplace dry and warm, preferably that sold hot beverages.

After conferring briefly on a street corner we voted to find the hotel where the spa was and park it. You see, we had two o’clock massages and a facial at the Bodyhaven spa.

One more block of walking led us right to the James Cook Hotel Grand Chancellor. The name should give you a pretty good idea about what kind of hotel it is. Picture it- three girls, drenched, cold and dressed for a hike surounded by high heels and cuff links. Luckily we’ve got alot of attitude or we would never have carried it off.

We ordered hot chocolates, dug out our ipods, sketchbooks and the daily paper and proceeded to entertain ourselves for the next hour and a half. Rubgy on the TV helped considerably.

We headed upstairs at 1.30, figuring that we might as well be early. The flock of tiny asian women at the spa took Becca into the inner sanctum right away for her facial but Alana and I had to wait another half an hour for our massages. Read the rest of this entry »