Saturday, November 29, 2003
Odds & ends:
Amen, brother, amen. [Friday, November 28 post.]
This is why I don't shop on "Black Friday," the day after Thanksgiving: scary people.
Nice move by Bulls GM John Paxson, hiring Scott Skiles (Plymouth '83 baby!) as their new head coach. And interesting that while everyone trips over themselves to talk about the Lakers, my Pacers have quietly gone to 14-2, the NBA's best record, after holding Iverson to 12 and topping the 76ers last night. You think Indiana at L.A. on Sunday might be worth a look? [And I try to avoid the NBA!]
Similarly, on the college side of hoops, everyone's talking about Duke - especially since UConn was embarassed Wednesday night (and how about Preseason NIT champs Georgia Tech? Can you say "sleeper"? I thought you could) - and yeah, they looked good last night. Of course, the Blue Devils were playing Liberty, which for them is akin to an intrasquad scrimmage (actually, probably easier). They won't (fingers crossed) have such an easy time of it tonight, taking on Purdue in the championship of the Great Alaska Shootout (1230am EST, ESPN2 - I love me some Feast Week!).
I heard Len's "Steal My Sunshine" today, and thought to myself, whatever happened to them? Do you know? You? You? Someone in Canada must know, right?
Right on.
Chrisafer had a great, great post about Joe Orton, and in extension, his own identity, this week. It got me thinking about Orton again, which is always a good thing. ['fer's thinking-about-ourselves-vis-a-vis-litgeek posts are always my faves.] So Tuesday night, I watched Prick Up Your Ears, the film bio of Orton starring Gary Oldman, Alfred Molina, and Vanessa Redgrave, again. Brilliant, just amazing, so true to Orton's diaries, which I highly highly recommend to anyone with interest in a) the life of a supernova of a playwright, and/or b) gay life in London in the '60s. I don't recall when I first read The Orton Diaries; I was likely near the cusp of 20, and was thrilled: here was a stunning, famous playwright extolling the joys of cottages (or, as we know them in the U.S., tearooms) - which, frankly, I was a big fan of at the time. [If you think I'm sluttish now...] Oldman's never been sexier than he is in Prick; it also reminded me that I haven't read some of Orton's plays in quite a while. So I shall.
Amen, brother, amen. [Friday, November 28 post.]
This is why I don't shop on "Black Friday," the day after Thanksgiving: scary people.
Nice move by Bulls GM John Paxson, hiring Scott Skiles (Plymouth '83 baby!) as their new head coach. And interesting that while everyone trips over themselves to talk about the Lakers, my Pacers have quietly gone to 14-2, the NBA's best record, after holding Iverson to 12 and topping the 76ers last night. You think Indiana at L.A. on Sunday might be worth a look? [And I try to avoid the NBA!]
Similarly, on the college side of hoops, everyone's talking about Duke - especially since UConn was embarassed Wednesday night (and how about Preseason NIT champs Georgia Tech? Can you say "sleeper"? I thought you could) - and yeah, they looked good last night. Of course, the Blue Devils were playing Liberty, which for them is akin to an intrasquad scrimmage (actually, probably easier). They won't (fingers crossed) have such an easy time of it tonight, taking on Purdue in the championship of the Great Alaska Shootout (1230am EST, ESPN2 - I love me some Feast Week!).
I heard Len's "Steal My Sunshine" today, and thought to myself, whatever happened to them? Do you know? You? You? Someone in Canada must know, right?
Right on.
Chrisafer had a great, great post about Joe Orton, and in extension, his own identity, this week. It got me thinking about Orton again, which is always a good thing. ['fer's thinking-about-ourselves-vis-a-vis-litgeek posts are always my faves.] So Tuesday night, I watched Prick Up Your Ears, the film bio of Orton starring Gary Oldman, Alfred Molina, and Vanessa Redgrave, again. Brilliant, just amazing, so true to Orton's diaries, which I highly highly recommend to anyone with interest in a) the life of a supernova of a playwright, and/or b) gay life in London in the '60s. I don't recall when I first read The Orton Diaries; I was likely near the cusp of 20, and was thrilled: here was a stunning, famous playwright extolling the joys of cottages (or, as we know them in the U.S., tearooms) - which, frankly, I was a big fan of at the time. [If you think I'm sluttish now...] Oldman's never been sexier than he is in Prick; it also reminded me that I haven't read some of Orton's plays in quite a while. So I shall.
# posted by Thomas : 10:13 AM
