Another indolent weekend. Friday we watched “Wonderfalls” (my interest is ebbing with each episode). Saturday was productive in that we booked our trip to New Orleans at the end of May. (It was complimacated by D.’s wanting to attend the Tape Op conference for the first few days solo; I will join him once the geeky recording engineers are out of town Sunday night. I decided to make the wicket even stickier by insisting that we stay at the Place d’Armes Hotel in the Quarter rather than the probably-fine-but-nondescript-CBD hotel where he’ll hang his hat during the conference.)
As a reward for all our coordination of flights, hotels, etc., D. took me out to dinner at Indian Club (I always expect jugglers to stroll from table to table), where we sat next to a couple — very likely Harvard undergrads — on a first date. He: beefy, booming all-American kid from Kansas, a business major wanting to be a politician, possibly. She: soft-spoken Indian woman whose end of the conversation often got trampled by her would-be beau, and who expressed intolerance for any white or green food (save for the pistachio ice cream that came at the end of their thali) as well as a dislike of chocolate. They shared a class and spent most of the dinner talking about his experiences as a high schooler studying in Japan, taking lots of P.E. classes because he had trouble with the language and impressing his host family with his sushi-rolling abilities (which he nudge-nudged his date about: “They had no idea how I could be so good at rolling things.”
He was trying so hard to impress her, and I would have felt more sympathetic toward him if he hadn’t been so overbearing, show-offy, and condescending. (When she showed interest in some econ topic by asking a question, he insisted that she didn’t know anything about it.) D. and I were both trying to calculate his odds of getting lucky — he may not have scored Saturday night, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they went out again. For example, she tried on his glasses, and when he said that he looked nerdy with them on, she said, “Oh, I like nerdy. It can be a good thing.” And her response to his admission that he’s a “heat generator,” was, “That’s good — I’m always cold.” As they were eating dessert, she asked what he wanted to do next, and he hemmed and hawed. She asked if he wanted to see a movie or something, but I think he just wanted to take her back to his room — “Aw, I dunno, I’m not even sure what’s playing.” (D.’s response: “Dude, do your homework before you go out!”)
We decided to rent a couple of DVDs while we were out: “Morvern Callar” and the first disc for the “Firefly” series. I wasn’t too impressed by the Jossage based on the first three episodes, but I liked several aspects of “Morvern Callar,” particularly the way it was shot and the chemistry between the title character and her best friend. The overall plot was a bit heavy-handed in its “she’s on a voyage of discovery” and “isn’t she shocking” elements, but some of the scenes were genuinely affecting. At least D. laughed when I asked him what a pirate’s favorite Scottish film is.
Our plans to eat fancy brunch at the MFA and see the exhibition of Japanese postcards Sunday fizzled out — it was a grizzly day and we felt more like lolling in bed and watching Fishing with John videos.
Despite my boss’s being home sick today, I’ve been hopping. I’m filling in for two people while they’re on vacation, and I can’t keep up with the editorial avalanche.
Today’s learning-smidge: The Japanese term for “walleyed” is ron-pari, as one eye is looking at Rondon (London) and the other is looking at Pari (Paris).
How your gonna keep em’ down on the farm, after they’ve seen parie?
I have an ancient piece of sheet music for that song. I’ll have to take a photo of it for you.
In other non-related news, can I put a link to www.bostonwebshots.com on your favorites, for to make google heppy?
Aw, it’s my day of Amy disagreement on almost all counts:
On the other hand, that guy at dinner sounds like a twit. In Nashville, we would have encountered him at Sitar, which is our favorite Indian restaurant, but is also the “restaurant where we’re most likely to hear pretentious conversations,” mostly because of its proximity to Vandy.
What’s “CBD”?
I had also meant to mention that during the time before last when we dined at Sitar, we witnessed a singer-songwriter schmoozing a baby. I’m not kidding. Ask Melissa about it.
It sounds like you and D spent a large portion of your dinner time listening to what was going on at the next table… not that there’s anything wrong with that…
Re: Wonderfalls. As I’m about to write Miles & Jeff, I didn’t like the third ep as much as the others, but I’m still enthralled. I recently learned that there is a story arc, but it doesn’t start to kick in until like the 5th episode (I’m not sure if that’s the 5th episode filmed or the 5th episode shown). Also, apparently the 2nd and 3rd eps were actually filmed fairly late but were shown early in order to fill in some perceived holes.
Okay, I accidentally sent that last comment before I was done… Hopefully there were no typos…
Re: Firefly. Must agree with Miles. When the show was originally on, I watched it every week but didn’t really start getting into it until near the end of the run. When I watched the DVDs, in the proper order, while listening to the commentaries and watching the documentaries, I fell in love with it. I think it works really well, taken as a whole. I’m looking forward to the movie. Give it a chance.
Listening to others conversations in restaurants is always good for some armchair psychology. It’s fascinating to watch something like that from the outside. And Miles, I am new in Nashville and have yet to find any decent Indian food, where is this Sitar of which you speak?
Victoria -
Sitar is on 21st Avenue N., near Baptist Hospital and Vanderbilt. From West End, turn up 20th and then make a left onto Hayes. Sitar will be on your left, and you can either park behind it or make a right onto 21st and park in front of the outdoor deck thingy they’re putting up.
I’m happy to make more recommendations; use the URL to find me ‘n’ my e-mail.
Wow, this entry garnered more comments than any previously!
Miles:
I knew I’d stir dissent with my not-goodmouthing of “Wonderfalls” and “Firefly”! I haven’t given up on either — D. was pretty keen on the latter (though at least he laughed whenever I made snarky comments), and considering my brain’s usual vegetative state on Friday evenings, “Wonderfalls” fits the bill.
“Firefly,” however, has a major uphill battle with someone like me: I’m not a fan of sci-fi programs (I’ve only seen the original “Star Wars” movie out of the lot, and that was only because someone I had a crush on wanted to take me) and I really dislike Westerns. Maybe when I see the commentary, my enthusiasm will grow.
As for Samantha Morton’s accent — in the commentary, she said something about how she’d originally wanted to develop a Scottish accent for her character, but there wasn’t time, so rather than doing a half-assed one she worked with the director to keep her natural voice and make the character come from England.
Flasshe:
D. and I are inveterate eavesdroppers. We jaywalk, too.
Amy -
I’d say about Firefly what I’d say of any good book or show regardless of genre: it’s a good show. I also don’t think that Firefly is that reliant on genre tropes, so don’t let yourself get distracted by the trappings. And for what it’s worth, I hate Star Wars.
Now our friend Flasshe, he’ll watch anything with a spaceship. ;-)
The two Scots who pointed out Morton’s lack of a proper accent are among the crankiest people I know, and they let it ruin the whole movie for them. Whereas I could enjoy Silence of the Lambs even though Jodie Foster’s WV accent is ludicrously wrong.
Melissa says that Morvern isn’t on a voyage of self-discovery at all, but always is what she is, interested in light and color and places on the earth rather than anything “internal” per se. Except when she said it last night while we were talking about your blog entry, she said it better than I just did.