Check out the pictures I took of the very Lynchian cabin that was our home for 3 days last weekend.

Check out the pictures I took of the very Lynchian cabin that was our home for 3 days last weekend.
On Friday, Brugos and I drove two hours East to a cabin outside of Leavenworth (the Bavarian town, not the prison) to spend the weekend with some friends for a birthday. Snow was in the forecast, which isn't unusual for that area, but we, like all Seattle kids, are inexperienced and unprepared when it comes to snow, so we drove with trepidation on Friday. Friday's trip was uneventful. We arrived at the cabin (Which was effing HUGE and full of the most awesome random yard sale kitsch ever. Pictures forthcoming.) and didn't really worry about the weather again, until Sunday when we realized that it has actually snowed about THREE FEET since our arrival. We had chains, (well, some of us) but that didn't change the fact that the huge front yard, driveway, and roads leading to the main one weren't plowed. Eventually, we learned that they weren't planning to plow the roads till Monday morning. This was after our friend with whom we drove attempted to put on his chains, only to learn that THEY WERE TOO BIG. Les Schwab screwed us. Two people, who had fitted chains, decided to risk it anyway, and got home, but they said it was touch and go. The rest of us decided to wait till morning when they plowed the roads. Overnight, another FOOT of snow fell, so they were behind on plowing, but it helped that it started pouring down rain. At least it helped us get out of the cabin and onto the road. But the rain washed snow down from the mountains onto the passes and so one pass was completely closed, and another was closed temporarily. We spent the day either backtracking or waiting for major highways to re-open. It took about 8 hours to get back to Seattle where apparently it had also snowed (NSFW snow sculpture), then flooded, but to a lesser degree. I know that part of this is people being unprepared for this kind of weather, but Eastern Washingtonians ARE used to snow. They just aren't used to 4 feet of it in 48 hours followed by torrential downpours. This shit is WEIRD people.
When we got home, we wondered why poor Tobe, usually the picture of cleanliness, was covered in gunk and filth, until I checked his food station and found that it was surrounded by an inch-deep puddle of gross basement water.
Weatherpocalypse, ya'll.
X-Posted from Not For Tourists

This ain’t your daddy’s golf course. The atmosphere of this 9-hole course is somewhere between that of a mini-golf course and the country club, but without the windmills of the former and the expensive stuffiness of the latter. If you’re like me, and you can’t drive a golf ball to save your stylish checkered pants, you’re in luck. The longest drive is 105 yards and the average is 65 yards. Putting alongside breezy Greenlake is the perfect way to spend an afternoon outside. Bring your own driver and putter or rent a set (only $2) and fill a backpack with beer for an extra special time. At $5 per game, you will have plenty of money left over to make a friendly wager with your buddies, or have a nice, affordable day out with the family. Just don’t bring any serious golfers with you. They will lose patience quickly with the easy-going amateur atmosphere and the snug course layout. Don’t forget to yell “Fore!”
5701 E Green Lake Way N 98103
206-632-2280
http://www.seattle.gov/parks/Athletics/golfcrse.htm#green
Originally posted on FilmThreat.com (now defunct)
2007, Un-rated, 13 minutes
One and a half stars
Oh crap. Is this really a low-budget indie short about the Holocaust? It is? Ugh.
Escape from the Fire begins with a little boy (Jordan Goldberg) running through the woods. He’s got curly hair and he’s wearing a Star of David band on his beige uniform sleeve so right away you know you’re in for a Farrelly-esque laugh-riot. The little boy seeks refuge in a house where he finds a little girl (Allison Sparrow). The two of them hide from Nazis and other bad men and everybody learns an important lesson about, you know, genocide and stuff.
Perhaps director Joel Dunn assumed that if he made a movie about cute little children hiding from Nazis, there was no way anyone could criticize it. Well, I’m not going to let him get off that easily. For a 13-minute movie, the little boy sure does a lot of running. He runs through the woods. He runs around the house. He runs through more woods. The good thing about a movie in which there isn’t really any dialog (there’s some un-subtitled German and lots of gesturing) is that you can fast forward through it without missing anything. Yes, the Holocaust was a horrible tragedy. But that doesn’t mean that we needed another movie about it. Especially if it doesn’t have anything new to say on the subject that we didn’t already learn from Anne Frank.
In short, “Escape from the Fire” is nothing special. But that little boy is pretty cute.
Originally posted on Film Threat (now defunct)
2007, Un-rated, 56 minutes
Three and a half stars
It makes perfect sense that Dominic DeJoseph would want to document the man called Johnny Berlin. We’ve all encountered eccentrics like Berlin at the bus stop or in a near-empty bar. They have interesting stories and opinions but, as you have unwittingly become their intimate live audience, you are at their mercy, and it’s difficult to sneak away to use the bathroom or just read the book you brought, should things get uncomfortable. A documentary gives you an intimate look into the life of one of these guys with a nice, protective fourth wall to ease the tension. Unfortunately, “Johnny Berlin” is just a little bit too slice-of-life. The story lacks flow and is never really tied together.
“Johnny Berlin” follows the titular train porter (a cross between a maid and a bellboy) as he carries out his tour of duty aboard a refurbished 1930s luxury train traveling up and down the West coast. He makes it clear from the start, however, that while he takes pride in his work (such as gingerly hand-brushing the pubes from a dirty bed for the next guest) this isn’t a career for him. He is a lost soul in a dying industry. Though nothing much happens to Johnny, during the 56 minutes we meet him, nor during his lifetime, he is filled with dreams; rock and roll dreams, dreams of writing the great American novel, dreams of meeting the right girl. It sounds romantic enough, but looking at the middle-aged man telling you these things, one is left with the distinct notion that most, if not all of these dreams will remain elusive.
Working on a luxury train must be a lot like working on a submarine. The quarters are close and claustrophobic, lonely and dark with no ventilation. Johnny is clearly disturbed by it because he frequently mentions the excessive dander floating in the air with no means of escape. He must relate a bit to the dander as he himself floats aimlessly, trapped in his life with no recourse. He is dissatisfied with the workaday world, even though his day job is unusual. He has artistic designs but is he eccentric or just loony? His novel pitches are curious enough. The one he wants to write in Cambodia is about a world-weary protagonist who decides to trek around the world…by rolling on the ground. But would the end results be brilliant (a la “A Confederacy of Dunces”) or utterly un-publishable.
While the subject of “Berlin” is documentary gold, director DeJoseph doesn’t seem to know what to do with him. We are plunged into the world of this tragic character without the text introduction or narration. We don’t know if he ever made it to Cambodia. Our time with Johnny simply begins and ends. For that reason, watching “Johnny Berlin” is a lot like getting stuck next to the chatty weirdo on the bus, but without the pesky fear that he may pull out a knife and stab you at any moment. He’s a fascinating character, but the short time you spend with him is quite enough. Maybe even just a little bit too much.
X-Posted from Not For Tourists.

I’m not an expert on what it means to be French, but I imagine it’s a little bit like Maximilien in the Market. Tucked away down a neon-lit hallway past the famous fish stand, it boasts “All the old world charm of any hide-away in Paris.” Indeed, the low-lighting and white tablecloths feel very French, but the most French thing about it is the wait staff–inattentive, patronizing and uncooperative. Ask a simple question about a menu item, and you get a simple, vague, derisive answer. Still, the breathtaking panoramic view of the Sound and the large outdoor patio make it easy to relax and take the poor service in stride. The food, when it arrives, isn’t half bad either. The French know their cheese and it is incorporated into many of their dishes. But I’d stick with traditional French menu items. If you’re wondering about the “dipping sauces” for the Belgian fries, I’m sorry to inform you that it’s just mayo.
81 Pike St 98101
206-682-7270
http://www.maximilienrestaurant.com
The Darjeeling Limited:
While I agree that it could have been cut down a wee bit, and was still Wes Anderson Mad Libs, I was moved by the story of 3 brothers trying to reconnect on a train trip across India. The movie was colorful and it made me really want to visit the country. Adrien Brody's nose is bewitching and he also delivered the line that made me choke back tears: “I couldn't save mine.”

No Country For Old Men:
This is a perfect film. Perfectly cast, perfectly acted, perfectly paced, and ended exactly how and when it should. Javier Bardem is a badass. Perhaps moreso with the David Cassidy hair.

Southland Tales:
Richard Kelly's long-anticipated second film feels like a cross between a pretentious student film with Hollywood actors and a movie made by an alien who has never actually seen a movie.

Beowulf:
If this were a drinking game, the only rule you would need is to drink every time someone says “Beowulf”. It might be a neat trick to draw CG over real actors, but I still don't see the point. I'm so tired of hearing about how “hot” Angelina Jolie is in the movie when it's actually just a cartoon VERSION of Angelina Jolie. Just like Ray Winstone is actually a fat old British man. For the most part, it felt like watching the story parts of a video game, but with a moral about how history is written by liars. I'm in favor of that last bit.

He is Beowulf.
28 Weeks Later:
I know this isn't exactly topical, but I watched it last night and it really blew me away. 28 weeks after the outbreak from the first film is “contained”, the mighty U.S. military swoops in to help Britain pick up the pieces. The performances are very realistic and aided in their believability by hand-held cameras and lack of music. My one complaint would be that when there IS music, it's terrible and made-for-TV-esque. Executive producer Danny Boyle sure loves his realistic apocalypse films. There are no heroes or villains. Just people reacting to a horrible situation. In many ways, it is a superior film to the original. Though I did really miss Cillian Murphy.

Re: the production stills from Indiana Jones and the Pirate's Curse of the Magical Castle or what have you, how did you make 80-year-old Harrison Ford, who normally looks like an ad for erectile dysfunction:

resemble the sexy history teacher/explorer we knew and loved like so:

Maybe this movie won't be so bad after all. Maybe…
PS: Those pants really need tailoring.
I just got a fucking jaywalking ticket! At 6th and Lenora! Where there was no traffic or people! By an old Wilford-Brimley-looking fuck on a motorcycle who clearly thought he was teaching a young girl a lesson about not jaywalking when there are NO FUCKING PEOPLE OR CARS ANYWHERE IN SIGHT. When someone did finally walk by, they were nice enough to make a snide comment about the cop keeping us all safe. That was the only thing that made me smile while the fucker was writing me a $56 ticket and not saying a word to me. Oh, I had things I wanted to say. Like where were you when I got punched by that crazy lady on this same block a couple of months ago? And why the FUCK is jaywalking any sort of priority in Seattle, a pedestrian city? But I just kept my mouth shut, took the ticket from him, and crumbled it up into a tiny ball before putting it in my pocket. I'm considering wiping my ass with it too before I mail it in with my check for FIFTY SIX FUCKING DOLLARS for doing something that has no point being illegal.
Jesus fucking christ. I remember when Elyse got a jaywalking ticket, but that was closer to Westlake where there ARE people and TRAFFIC. Belltown at 8:30am is a ghost town. Apart from old cops who should be retired but instead are hassling the kids. Go home and eat your oatmeal, Brimley.
This just in: The Seattle Fun Forest is no longer fun.
Actually, everyone who lives here already knew that, but it seemed like (much like the monorail) it would remain a neglected, sorry part of Seattle forever. However, it would appear that on Labor Day 2009, the haunted amusement park in Seattle Center is being dismantled. You have a little less than two years to needlessly risk your personal safety on the rickety roller coaster or place your life into the hands of apathetic teenagers on the log ride.

I want dibs on their mini golf course. That colorful burro would look fantastic in our back yard.