Harold is baby-faced young man obsessed with death. His family is horribly rich and Harold, lacking the need or desire for a job, is mostly employed with faking his suicide—hanging, shooting, or disembowelling himself as the mood takes him. His performances are all for the benefit of his superWASP, ice cold mother, but she has grown so used to his behaviour that she can do laps beside his apparently drowned corpse without breaking stride. Maude is days short of eighty but more full of life then anyone Harold has ever met. She’s exuberant, irreverent, and quite literally wants to make every moment count. She’s also a car thief a drives a mile a minute. Natually, Harold and Maude become lovers. Whoa, whoa—simmer down! Don’t run away. This isn’t Basic Instinct or anything. Beyond a few kisses and a suggestive fade-to-black, there’s nothing all that sexual in the movie. Unless you see the Director’s Cut—now that shit’s crazy! Frottage, auto-erotic asphyxiation; let’s just say there are
I’ve decided to do this damn contest (and Jorge is foolish enough to join me), but the idea of writing a horror novel is starting to terrify me. The concept seems easy. We all like to take big dumps on Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and their ilk, but the more I think about this the more I realize that they’re brilliant at what they do. All horror novels have about five potential hooks to be shaped around: ghosts, monsters, aliens, madness, and supernatural ability. But these writers go back to a very shallow well of material and make fairly original works each time. Right now, I don’t feel like I can do that. I’m not that creative a person, or not like I think I used to be. This was so much easier when you were a kid; there were no dumb ideas when you were in grade six English. You’re trapped on the playground by terrorists? So imaginative! KITT and the General Lee have a race around the world? A+! But at the wizened age of thirty, I tend to beat down any dumb or fantastic i
So I’m thinking about NaNoWriMo , which is the ridiculous nickname of the National Novel Writing Month contest. While it seems an easy-breezy time compared to the 3-Day Novel , NaNoWriMo demands that you meet a word count of at least 50,000 (the 3-Day averages out to half that). Also, there’s no winner, or rather, everyone’s a winner!!! (assuming you finish.) I’d forgotten about this contest until I popped by Rebecca’s site . I’ll recycle here what I said there, which is that I’d love to have completed the challenge, but I’m not too shit-hot on the idea of actually writing six and a half pages every night for the next month. That’s not good times, so far as I remember. However, the 3-Day Novel, for better or worse, always got me back into fiction in a big way, which is a kickstart I need very badly right now. What do you think? Tell me what to do. And if you’ve got the yarbles, suffer with me.
What's something you had the chance to buy that you decided against, but then later regretted this decision to your very soul? Me? This past weekend, in a liquor store in Vermont, a bottle of Jagermeister I couldn't lift with one hand. $35.
Look at IMDBs top rated movies and, for the most part, you’ll find no surprises. The Godfather , Citizen Kane, Seven Samurai —agree or disagree, these are all the films you expect to see. But scroll down to number eleven. City of God . Right now you’re probably saying, “qu'est-ce que c'est?” Or more appropriately, “¿qué es eso?” (In truth, I’m probably not giving you all the credit you deserve, but I’m going to go ahead and keep pretending you’re a moron because it just makes my job easier.) When this movie came to theatres in the fall of 2002, I didn’t think much of it. But then the critical buzz was huge and I swore I would see it. So I picked it up at the video store. But then I put it down and opted for Baby Geniuses instead. Then Charmed: Season One . Then XXX: State of the Union . About nine attempts later, I resisted the pull of Married People, Single Sex and finally brought home City of God . I knew that the movie used a cinéma vérité approach, and that was probably
Thought I'd teach myself some HTML and make a bitchin site unlike any other. After about six days at it, I've discovered that I can't learn something new without forgeting something I usd to know. I widened the margins on my site but then couldn't remember how zippers worked. So I just gave in and adopted another standard blogger template, which makes me lame and unoriginal Touch You Last is back in business after a week's neglect. Expect all the regular features, with the exception of the continuing story which we all stopped caring about a long time ago. If you're crushed about that one, let me know and I'll ship the whole thing to you uncut and commercial free. Peace out.
Today is the birthday of everyone’s favourite blog hijacker—Sarah. I want to call her twenty-eight years young, but that’ll get me a swift boot in the arse. I mean, she only wears like a size four, but all the same… Leave a note and let her know you love her.