Tuesday, January 17, 2006
or
How I Spent My Winter Vacation
To quote the bard (no, not that one; the other one), I have never let my schooling interfere with my education. For the last four weeks, gentle readers, I have been supplimenting my university studies with a fine selection of art, literature, and music. Here, for your enjoyment, is an overview of my curriculum.
Kay recently introduced me to Rammstein - a German industrial-metal group known for their timeless lyrics and inextinguishable stage presence.
Initially, I did not think much of them. We all remember "Du Hast," don't we? Thanks to overplay and my innate dislike for anything "hyped," I had decided that I hated Rammstein - without giving them so much as a chance. But their concert DVD changed all that.I'm a big fan of fire, gentle readers. A real big fan. Flaming microphones, sparking drum-sticks, blazing overcoats - Rammstein has it all. By the third or fourth potentially lethal pyrotechnic stunt, I was hooked. Fire. Heh heh. FIRE!!!
And their lyrics (or what I caught of them) were unforgettable. You see, I don't speak a word of German. Fortunately, I had Kay to keep me updated with fresh translations:
Me: Woah. That was a lot of fucking FIRE. Look at his forehead sweating! (End of first song leads into ballad-like introduction) What this next song called?
Kay: Heirate mich, which means "Marry Me."
Me: Oh.
Kay: It's about necrophilia.
Me: Oh?
Kay: (translating) "I take you tenderly by the arm, but your skin rips like paper,
and parts fall off of you; you escape me for the second time."
Me: That's deep. Kind of sad . . . WOAH, did you just see his boots explode?!
And good times were had by all.
Next on the list, a sweet little piece of non-fiction called The Woman With A Worm In Her Head: And Other True Stories Of Infectious Disease. I bought this gem on a masochistic whim; although I have an acute phobia of parasitic worms, I am simultaniously drawn to detailed accounts of human infestation. Go figure.
I was not to be disappointed. The book's title says it all. Within, I found stories about a man who dies of flesh-eating chickenpox, fatal hemmoragic bacterial infections, and - yes - a woman with a worm in her head. At first they thought it was an inoperable brain tumor. Apparently, the patient was overjoyed at the author's second opinion. Oh, a tapeworm ate its way into my brain. Is that all? Damn, I guess I should have saved for retirement! Eating for two, and what have you, hah hah hah . . .
*shudder* GGGHUUUHHH!
As for the realm of film, I took the time out of my *chortle* busy schedule to catch a showing of "Breakfast on Pluto." It's my latest favourite. If there's one thing I love more than movies about drag queens, it's movies about drag queens that have a happy ending. No, I'm serious. I'm not being sarcastic for once.
The acting was, in my opinion, sublime. The main character managed to sustain a potentially exhausting level of whimsy, while leaving just the right ammount of room for drama and heartache to collapse around him. I particularly enjoyed the lack of queer-beating. Costumes? Good. Score? Decent. Contrived? By god, yes. Supporting characters? Charming, well-drawn, and at times riveting. It's worth a view. Unless you don't like fairy tales. Or the Irish.Ta tah, for now. Stay cultured!
P.S. Spellcheck it yourself.
