My new Friendster profile.

Hee. I like it.

A child in a store, as I walk by, will grab at his mother's pant leg and then whisper to her that I walk funny. Sometimes I clarify the situation, and sometimes I don't. But, here, I'll tell you that I was born different. I walk funny. Not just the post-fucked walking funny, either. I have an uneven gait that the corrective surgeries didn't fix. So, because of that, I adjusted to the fact that not everyone was gonna be keen on what I had to offer. Except maybe fetish-ists. My odd walk, incidentally, is not severe. I'm just saying it first here so that, well, we're all on the same footing. Because of the disability, I've seen little use in attending a gym. Sure, it would help my health, and that's the upbeat, admirable motivation I suppose I should have - yet I don't think most people go to the gym for upbeat, admirable reasons. Because of the disability, as well, I built up my personality. I'm funny. I'm smart. I'm a chatter. I can talk art, movies and music. I like to argue. I'm good to have on a trivia team. I write essays about my big, funny upbringing and my big, funny outlook. My essays are good. No lie. I try not to be sunny. I try to be open and honest. I don't trust happy people because I think they're either up to something or drinking the Jim Jones Kool-Aid. I used to wonder if I was dating weirdos just so that I'd have good anecdotes to share at parties. My friends tell me that I can do better at my jobs, in my relationships and in how I manage my life than I do, but many successful people I know still buy self-help books, which leads me to think that maybe we all are seeking some idealized version of how we want life to be and that maybe we aren't supposed to stop. I try too hard to get people to like me, even assholes that I shouldn't care about who I know deep down aren't worth my time. Haven't we all? I practice my Oscar speech, just in case. I was once asked how I can be arrogant yet have self-esteem issues. I don't fit in. I stand out.

Notes on something I might write.

* Are you who you say you are?
* Do you compromise what you want more than you should?
* Do you hold grudges?
* Do you take risks?
* Are you happy?
* Are you genuine?
* How much do you lie to others?
* How much do you lie to yourself?

Things to do at Thanksgiving's end.

- Nicole Richie is coming to my bookstore, the Barnes & Noble in Buckhead, on Monday to sign her new book, THE TRUTH ABOUT DIAMONDS. My friends and I are intended to go and worship at her altar. Additionally, we intend to keep an eye on the snack table to see if she swipes anything.
- Currently, a group of my friends is waiting on me in the other room to carve the turkey for A Very Kacoon Thanksgiving, but, for some reason, I thought I shouldn't break the tradition of posting a "Things to Do ..." list, however abbreviated it may be, again this week.



- Saw RENT last night, and, sorry, but I walked out of it. It works as a stage show, not as a movie, kind of like THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA last year. I felt sorry for Idina Menzel and the unfortunate shot composition used in her cow-suckling scene. Menzel deserves better.
- I also saw at the movies, because I wanted to leave my mom's house after my stepdad announced to me that he was a proud racist, THE ICE HARVEST and HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE on IMAX. The HARRY POTTER movie was great, but THE ICE HARVEST felt like a retread of better-done noir comedies that I've seen before.
- Anyway, people are here. So I have to go. The question of the week: How was your Thanksgiving?

Two thumbs up Oprah.

This news, from OPRAH this week, is too funny to me. Lucky for all of us, they didn't get married.

I mean, picture it, Oprah and Roger Ebert holding hands. Oprah and Roger Ebert sharing popcorn. Oprah and Roger Ebert having hamburgers. Now, Oprah and Roger Ebert making out. Oprah and Roger Ebert having sex.

It's creepier than thinking about your parents doing it.

Things to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

- HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE, which has received excellent reviews, is the movie to beat at the box office this weekend, and I will, of course, be among the many who head to the cinema to catch it. In this one, if you haven't read it, Harry gets enlisted into this magical Olympics-type event called the Triwizard Tournament, and things get really, really dangerous and really, really scary for him. This book, for awhile, had the best ending of all the books. But then, of course, the sixth book came out this summer, and its ending is jaw-dropping amazing. Anyway, yeah, so go see HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE. Because you were probably going to already.
- As expected, THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING by Joan Didion won the National Book Award for nonfiction this week. The fiction prize went to William T. Vollman's EUROPE CENTRAL, a gigantic, footnoted novel about Europe during World War II. I've never even heard of EUROPE CENTRAL, though I suppose I should've looked into it when it was nominated. It's just that I thought E.L. Doctorow's THE MARCH was going to win, even though I've not read THE MARCH either. (THE MARCH is, of all things, about Sherman's March to the Sea during the Civil War, and the Southerner in me just can't read something like that.)



- There's a new Robert Sabuda pop-up book out called WINTER'S TALE. That should be all you need to know about the book before running out and buying it, for Sabuda is an unparalleled genius when it comes to pop-up books. If you've never seen his WIZARD OF OZ, then you're in for a treat. Sabuda books are good gifts for kids, but they're best for adults who recognize the skill involved in art this glorious. These are the sort of pop-ups you dreamed of having as a child.



- WALK THE LINE, starring Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon, also comes out today, and, though it's likely not as good as RAY, any Johnny Cash biopic is bound to be interesting, for Cash was an amazing musician and damn interesting guy. Personally, I've found Joaquin Phoenix, as an adult, to be a bit creepy. Even his work in TO DIE FOR, a movie I loved, is just a little creepy. And in interviews, he's hella creepy. I liked him better as Leaf Phoenix in PARENTHOOD.



- BEE SEASON, which has been getting excellent reviews and strong notices for Richard Gere, Juliette Binoche and newcomer Flora Cross, opens this week at the Landmark. From what I've heard, this story of a girl unnoticed by her family until she shows a talent for spelling - perhaps tapped into Jewish mysticism - is one of the best films of the year, though I've not seen it yet. What I've read of the Myla Goldberg book it's based on, though, is excellent.
- The Thrashers game I went to this week was fun. Seriously, I need to go to another Thrashers game.



- I still haven't made it to the High Museum to see the new exhibition space, even though my brother was the project manager for the concrete company who helped lay the foundation on the expansion. The new galleries apparently show the permanent collection in an entirely new light. I really, really want to see this, and I want to see this soon.
- Kacoon and I have been speaking, and our third "Very Kacoon Thanksgiving" in four years is set for Friday. I love Thanksgiving. I'm breaking out my recipe for sweet potato souffle.
- Finally, after going shopping last weekend and getting lectured this week on my lack of professional focus, I proudly wore a whole bunch of new clothes several days this week. The impact new clothes always have on my mood and attitude is profound and surprises me. (Of course, usually, I don't have time or inclination to do laundry, and I can't afford dry cleaning. And I usually fall into bad habits, so I only end up dressing well on special occasions.) Still, I'm going to try, once again, to develop a favorite, feel-good outfit. This week's question: So what's your favorite outfit to wear? How does it make you feel when you wear it? And why do you love it?

Ease on down, ease on down the ice.

Last night, my friend Steven and I attended a Thrashers game at Philips Arena. And we had fantastic seats, too. We were, like, 10 rows from the ice.

Still, neither one of us know much about hockey, and the Thrashers were behind almost from the beginning of the game.

Nonetheless, *I* knew that the best moment of the game was when the Islanders' goalie ended up hitting the ice face-first and his mask went skidding away. Hockey's at its best, for me, when there's blood on the ice.

Of course, Steven's favorite moment, which led to him saying the gayest thing EVER said during a hockey game, happened when the Thrashers scored a goal.

Whenever the Thrashers score a goal, you see, the giant bird's head atop the scoreboard opens its mouth and shoots out a stream of flames.

It looks a bit like this when it happens:



Anyway, Steven saw the flames shoot out from the giant bird's head and said, swear to God, "Oh wow, it's just like in THE WIZ!!!"

Not to be mean to Steven, but I don't think I've ever rolled my eyes more in my life.

Things to do when you hate to love Mr. Darcy.

- It fascinates me that the movie receiving the most praise from critics this week appears to be PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, based on the novel that most everyone's read at least once and already made into an instant classic miniseries. Still, the praise that's been heaped upon Keira Knightley for her performance as Elizabeth Bennet is difficult to ignore. And too much PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, to be fair, isn't exactly a bad thing.
- Sorry for the delay in posting this, but I just found out that one of my creative writings was accepted for presentation at the 2006 national conference of the Popular Culture Association/American Culture Association in April.


- Though the movie's gotten lukewarm reviews, I've been interested in seeing THE PRIZE WINNER OF DEFIANCE, OHIO for personal reasons, for my parents grew up in towns neighboring Defiance, Ohio, during the time this movie was set. In fact, Terry Ryan, the author of the book on which the movie was based, went to the same college as my parents, graduating a couple years ahead of them. (The movie, incidentally, was filmed on location in Defiance.) Now, my parents didn't know Evelyn Ryan and my grandparents probably didn't know her either, but this movie, starring Julianne Moore and Woody Harrelson, gives me a chance to see a glimpse of what it might've been like for my parents as kids, who traveled the same roads as the Ryans and looked at the same billboards and probably attended the same movie theaters, for Defiance was the go-to hangout town for my parents.



- The one thing that would get me to the Out on Film Festival, which begins tonight, is that the fest is opening with TRANSAMERICA, a new film starring DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES' Felicity Huffman. In it, Huffman plays Bree, a pre-operative male-to-female transsexual, who discovers that, years before, she fathered a son, who now needs her help. There's been strong, strong Oscar buzz for Huffman.



- I saw THE SQUID AND THE WHALE, which stars Jeff Daniels and Laura Linney, earlier this week at the Tara, and it was a very good movie about two writers who get divorced in the 1980s and the odd impact it has on their two sons. Daniels is brilliant in the movie as an arrogant author past his glory days who, when his marriage ends, sees himself as the victim in the situation and declares a passive-agressive war on his ex-wife. Linney, as usual, is good. Though the movie didn't completely bowl me over, it contains strong performances and good writing. I recommend it.



- I mentioned THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING a couple weeks ago on this blog, but I didn't pick up Joan Didion's grief memoir until this week. From what I've read of it, the book is a great, powerful work about how the author coped with several shocks that blindsided her: the sudden death of her husband John Gregory Dunne, her daughter slipping into a coma due to what seemed like a minor illness and other things. The book reads with an urgency, for you sense what Didion was feeling in startling moments when her life changed. Even though the subject matter is notably bleak, how she addresses these changes is affirming. It's fantastic.
- I'm a little behind on my moviegoing, and I should really catch up with stuff. I've still not seen NORTH COUNTRY, JARHEAD, WALLACE AND GROMIT, CHICKEN LITTLE or a dozen others.
- It's a couple weeks until BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN hits theaters, though the early buzz is that the movie is a masterpiece. The soundtrack, though, is in stores already, and it features an eclectic, strong mix of country legends and modern folk artists. Willie Nelson sings a Bob Dylan song. Rufus Wainwright duets with someone on "King of the Road." And the brilliant, always welcome Emmylou Harris appears on several songs. I'm guessing that this soundtrack, perhaps moreso than the ones for RENT and THE PRODUCERS, will be getting Oscar nominations.
- This week, I discovered that, in 2002, a friend of mine was able to lose 90 pounds. Since I'd met him after 2002, I just assumed that he'd always been fit, and the revelation actually surprised me a little bit. He said that the trick was that you just had to find the right motivation to get started, the right goal to inspire you. Now, that I'd heard before, but my motivated friend then put it in a different light. He told me that what drives you can be petty, selfish, greedy or superficial, just so long as it gets you started. Instead of losing weight for health reasons, he told me he did it primarily because he wanted to get laid more. So I'm trying to come up with something that'll motivate me to do any one of the number of things that I keep saying I should do. (I'm talking more than just weight loss, here.) What petty, small, superficial thing have you found to move you? Do you have any reasons you don't say out loud for sticking with good behavior? What's the silliest, most selfish reason you've ever had for doing the right thing?

I dream of Goonie.

Last night, for some reason, I dreamed that I was shopping alongside Martha Plimpton in a grocery store, and we were discussing my career as a child actor. For some reason, I was convinced, in my dream, that I played Kenny Rogers' son in SIX PACK - a film that really was filmed in my hometown - but that my work was overshadowed by the larger role portrayed by Diane Lane in that movie.

As a result, I told Martha that I'd never been up for a part in THE GOONIES but that I appreciated her work in the film.



So then Martha Plimpton, as we passed by the lobster tank in the grocery store, told me that I probably could have used a stronger agent for child actors post-SIX PACK (which -- I repeat -- I was not actually in, but, in my dream logic, I'd played a part in SIX PACK).

Martha Plimpton said I could've played the Sean Astin part in GOONIES.

And I said to her, "Yeah, and I could've been a hobbit, too."

For some reason, I was flirting with Martha Plimpton in my dream, which is why this may have been the strangest dream ever. I mean, honestly, why would I flirt with a) a girl; and b) Martha Plimpton?

Then, she and her small, blond son (whom I don't know actually exists) took me to this large mansion, presumably Martha Plimpton's (though I doubt she lives in a mansion, unless she's got some PARENTHOOD royalties).

So then I told Martha Plimpton that I had an idea for a kid's movie where a child's mother would be transformed into a fire-breathing dragon.

And then, in my dream, Martha Plimpton literally turned into a giant fire-breathing dragon, except her skin wasn't reptilian. It felt like a Nerf ball, actually. Martha Plimpton was a very pretty dragon in my dream.

But the Martha Plimpton dragon kept growing and growing, and eventually her son, the dragon and I were getting crushed against the walls of her mansion (which looked like the mansion in the TOMB RAIDER movies, actually).

So then Martha Plimpton, as a dragon, asked me what was supposed to happen next in the movie. And I told her that the little boy and I were supposed to grab onto her neck, and she was supposed to crash through the roof of the mansion.

So I wrapped my arms around Martha Plimpton's dragon neck, and her son did the same. Then, Martha Plimpton blew fire breath toward the roof of her mansion, and it exploded. And the Martha Plimpton dragon flew through the roof of the house.

Then, my alarm clock went off. And I hit the snooze button and thought more about Martha Plimpton.

And I ended up in a variation on my same dream, except now Martha Plimpton wasn't a dragon. And she and I were alone in her mansion (which now had a roof on it), and we were discussing George Plimpton, who I thought might be her uncle. (In reality, he's not. Turns out Martha's a Carradine.)

Then, for some reason, we re-enacted what would be an interview between George Plimpton and Truman Capote. Except Martha was dressed in drag in a dark suit as George Plimpton, and I was dressed like Truman Capote. The backdrop at the television studio where we conducted the interview was very, very '60s.

And then my alarm clock went off again, and I woke up.

Things to do if you're writing and writing.

- November, as some of you may already have heard, is National Novel Writing Month, and I've signed up to join in on the challenge, though I doubt I'll actually finish 50,000 words -- roughly a 175-page tome -- by November 30. Still, it gets me working. Flannery O'Connor, my latest heroine and a damn good short story writer, apparently wrote and revised her stories all the time, and she didn't give up or let criticism get her down too much. I spoke to my writing prof Sarah, and I'll be back in class on Monday. I'm trying not to get too discouraged. Sarah told me that, as time passes, I should develop a thicker skin when it comes to my writing. She also told me that I just don't trust that this is all going to work out for me, that I have the talent and that I have the ambition. She said I need to have faith in myself.
- If you need advice on the novel you're writing, THE ELEMENTS OF STYLE, the classic, essential guide to writing and grammar by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White, has just been re-released in a beautiful, illustrated, hardcover edition that keeps all the useful information you'll need. The paperback is still available, if you just want the writing advice, but the pictures by The New Yorker's illustrator Maira Kalman in this new book are really pretty.



- Speaking of things that are really pretty, Jake Gyllenhaal looks really, really good in the new Sam Mendes movie JARHEAD, which gives a soldier's perspective on Operation: Desert Storm. The movie also has Peter Sarsgaard and Jamie Foxx in it, and it could be good. But, um, I've known I was going to see this movie from the moment the trailer showed Jake Gyllenhaal shirtless, wearing a Santa's cap and holding an M-16.
- I worked with Shalewa earlier this week, and she recommended THE MOUSE AND THE MASK by Danger Doom to me. Since it looked like a Gorillaz-flavored rap album, I gave it a listen, and Shalewa, as usual, was right. If you like Danger Mouse or any rock-meets-cartoon creation, give this a listen.



- Amazon's offering some really good DVD box sets at incredibly low prices for a limited time. Of all the ones listed, the two sets I found most appealing were the first seasons of NIP/TUCK and THE WEST WING for under $20. I thought I'd pass the deal along.



- FORTY SHADES OF BLUE, featuring an award-winning performance from Rip Torn (of all people), opens at the Landmark this weekend. The movie won the Grand Jury Prize at this year's Sundance Film Festival. SEPARATE LIES, featuring Tom Wilkinson and Emily Watson, is also playing at the theater. Of course, the most controversial movie opening at the Landmark this weekend is WHERE THE TRUTH LIES, which battled the MPAA earlier this year over an NC-17 rating. The movie's being released without a rating, for director Atom Egoyan didn't want to remove the pivotal three-way sex scene featuring Kevin Bacon and Colin Firth.



- CHICKEN LITTLE's going to be playing in some Disney Digital 3-D production up at the Mall of Georgia, possibly on the IMAX screen, so I'm going to head there to see it. I love that, despite the fact that I fled Buford, I have to go back there sometimes to see movies in their ideal projection.
- Thinking over books to recommend a teenager this week, I decided to recommend J.D. Salinger's THE CATCHER IN THE RYE, the old standby, and Stephen Chbosky's THE PERKS OF BEING A WALLFLOWER, which is a really good coming-of-age novel that was published by MTV Books a couple years ago. If you've not read THE PERKS OF BEING A WALLFLOWER, you really ought to pick it up. Jenipher showed me this week that it's on several school banned-book lists nowadays, and that usually means that a book is worth reading. Have you ever rebelled and read something you weren't supposed to? What's your favorite banned book? If it were up to you, what book would you have banned?

The weather changes.

It's funny how your mood can shift, how you can change your mind, how you can lose something you rely on and barely notice or care less. The small change can affect bigger, catastrophic results in your life that you later notice. Looking back, you see the pinpoint, the time when it all turned from sweet to sour. But, when the pinpoint actually occurs, you barely even notice it.

I'm mad at my writing class for reasons that I know are silly and a little stupid, but I just can't face them tonight. Class is already underway, but I'm swamped with work here at the office and just can't break away. And I don't really want to break away.

A year ago, I was occasionally messing around with this guy named Hennessy. The last time I saw him was the day after Halloween. Hennessy's entry into my life and escape from it was, I know now, not a big deal at all. Some groceries I've purchased will likely have a larger effect upon my life than Hennessy in the long run. But, I remember, at the time I wanted Hennessy to matter. And now I just feel stupid about it.

This morning, I put on my winter coat for the first time since maybe March, and I reached into one of the pockets and pulled out a dollar bill and Ash's business card. Now, there have been countless times that, on my way to the tollbooth, I could've used that dollar bill. And I remember when Ash fit into my life and how he fit. And that was a disaster doomed to end badly, though it didn't end as badly as it could have. But it's been months now, and he probably thinks on me even less than I think on him.

I haven't spoken to Movie Theater Stephen in a month. I've erased him from my phone, ended the pathetic, one-sided phone tag that I feel like he put me through. And I fear Movie Theater Stephen's shaping up to be this year's Dax or this year's Snapshot. I wish I'd learned what I should've learned from Dax and Snapshot so that I wouldn't have to learn such a stupid lesson again. Instead, the seasons repeat, and the patterns repeat. A year from now, that coat pocket will likely have a movie ticket stub in it, and I'll reconsider now and think myself wiser for the effort.

Today, some friends of mine e-mailed me to tell me that my new voicemail message is gay and embarassingly annoying, and I'll probably remember the conversations over my voicemail moreso than I'll remember why that voicemail message was changed in the first place. I was upset at 2 a.m. a week ago, frustrated that my work as a writer was going nowhere and would continue to go nowhere and that I'd be in the same place five years from now that I am now and that I'd still not know enough to give up the ghost, and I changed my voicemail 14 times because I couldn't sleep. I was angry, so I used my outgoing message as a means to communicate my frustration.

"Hi, this is Benjamin, failed writer, failed adult and general loser. Fuck you all ..."

"Hi, this is Benjamin, and I'm pretending to be a writer. Please leave a message."

I knew I couldn't leave them like that before I went to sleep or before anyone called, so I came up with the dumbass, benign message that my friends - expecting me to be more creative - derided for its gayness, its lack of bite.

I just ended a phone call with my friend Larry, and he told me not to let these past few days become a defining moment in my life, in my career.

I want something to happen. I want sea change. I am being an obnoxious, egocentric blowhard, though, because I'm not working on what I need to work on. Instead, I'm pouting like a baby.

Oh well, back to the work that I need to do before I can leave the office.

Things to do if you appreciate hauntings.

- So a glut of scary movies aimed at the Halloween-hungry audience hit theaters this weekend, and I think we should all be a little grateful that the ones were getting are, at least, a little clever. The one most of you will probably see, and probably should see, is SAW II, the sequel to last year's sick, bloody, twisted yet entertaining puzzler SAW (Incidentally, SAW is the movie my redneck stepfather said was the best movie he'd seen in ages). SAW II offers more bizarre, deadly contraptions and Donnie Wahlberg , Shawnee Smith and 7TH HEAVEN's Beverley Mitchell leading a larger cast than the first movie. God, I hope Lucy Camden and the New Kid on the Block both die.



- HELLBENT, the gay slasher movie that I've mentioned here before, also opens at the Landmark this weekend. In this one, a bunch of muscled queens in West Hollywood get beheaded by a gym-bodied serial killer. Dylan Fergus, who plays PASSIONS' clueless, expressionless and shirtless Noah, leads the cast. To its credit, the knife-in-the-eye poster looks cool. But HELLBENT's groundbreaking because, in it, all the people having hot sex and getting killed are gay. This is progress?
- My friend Larry, in honor of our friend David's birthday every Halloween, hosts an elaborate, fantastic wine-and-cheese dinner, and it's set for Saturday. During one of the seven courses, I may read my latest attempt at short story, "Vehicles Aren't Meant to Sit Still," even though the critique I received in my writing class makes me wary and gives me pause. I always have fun at the wine-and-cheese dinner. Instead of silly costumes, we get an excuse to dress up, be rather pretentious, have great conversation, see interesting friends and sample some really good food.
- The final performances of SOMETHING WICKED at the Center for Puppetry Arts are this weekend, and the special, costumed Halloween performance occurs at 11 p.m. on Saturday. Tickets are still available, and the people at the Center tell me that it's going to be fantastic.



- Now, an anecdote. When I was a child, my mom and stepfather twice were responsible for building some bloody, scary haunted houses in Buford, my hometown. One of them was built for a Halloween party in our basement when I was in the fifth grade. In that one, my mother got dressed as a blood-soaked vampire and my stepfather dressed as Freddy Krueger, and they attacked many of the friends who went down into my basement. It was great fun. (As a result, there was a headless woman in a plywood coffin in my basement for a couple years.) Another of my parents' haunted houses was a hit of the Buford Fall Festival one year. While the houses were "in operation" with the smoke machines and the ghosts that jump out at you, I didn't visit my parents' haunted houses. I'm a scaredy-cat when it comes to those places. Thus, I've never been to Atlanta's premier haunted house attraction, Netherworld, though I've heard good things about it and frequently read over its billboard from the freeway. Every year, I consider going. Every year, I never go. I am not a haunted house person. As I said, there was a papier-mache headless corpse in my basement for years.
- If you prefer your haunted places to be legitimately haunted, you should go on a tour of the Historic Oakland Cemetery in Grant Park this weekend. There'll be both ghost stories and dead governors there.



- I don't do costumes for Halloween, either. The year of my parents' haunted house party, for instance, I dressed as Fred Astaire. I wore a suit, a mask and a glittery silver top hat, and I carried a cane with me and pretended to dance a lot. (There are photos in my fifth grade yearbook, if you don't believe me.) For every college costume party I attended, I wore my usual, dressier clothes with a cardigan sweater and told people that I was Chandler from FRIENDS. If you do costumes, though, you should try Junkman's Daughter. Their costumes are usually good.
- Joan Didion's THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING, which has been winning awards and selling well in the bookstore, and the Augusten Burroughs essay compilation MAGICAL THINKING have led me to wonder: What in the hell is magical thinking? Is magical thinking something that only GOB from ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT and David Copperfield can do?



- I want to see SHOPGIRL. I want to see it really bad, not just because the reviews have been solid or because Claire Danes and Steve Martin are in it. I want to see SHOPGIRL because it seems like the sort of romance that the decidedly non-romantic sort would make. I'm a love pessimist. I don't think I could tell a good love story anymore. And I think this might be my kind of love story.
- Even though I don't like haunted houses and don't wear costumes, Halloween is always one of my favorite holidays because, if you can believe this, strange and wonderful things happen to me on Halloween. One Halloween during high school, my friend Vic disappeared on me in the middle of the mall, and I became convinced that I was being chased by a man in a devil suit. The time I got stuck in a McDonald's during a blackout was Halloween. When I was thinking of dating Vic in college, for instance, the first time that we really kissed each other and understood what it all meant was on Halloween. The time I got into a car accident in the middle of a rainstorm and then ended up making out with a drag queen, that was Halloween. The time that horrible Vietnamese colorist made my hair look like Vanilla Ice was on Halloween. Halloween's not scary at all. The day just throws me for a loop or just puts a strange twist on my usual story. So, for this week's question, what's your favorite Halloween memory? To be traditional, what was the best costume you ever wore? What's the strangest thing that ever happened to you on Halloween?

I make nice people cry.

This week, I appear to be as charming and amiable as molten hellfire raining down upon schoolchildren. Something happened that put me in a bad mood, and it has lingered and lingered for days now. Both people close to me and people who barely know me are advised to run and run quickly if I head in your direction.

The story critique from my class, perhaps due to the mindset and expectations I carried with me into the room that day, seemed to go badly, and I was upset about it. I tried to be quiet, but the class picked up on my disappointment anyway, because my body language is fairly transparent. One very nice woman, who'd offered up a comment on my story, thought that she personally had upset me, and she started crying - I say, crying - when I left the room because she didn't mean to hurt my feelings.

When I came back into the room, not initially aware that this nice woman had cried because of my mood, the prof lectured me a bit sternly about considering the feelings of others and properly expressing gratitude to my readers.

The whole thing was embarassing, and I fear that I came off as really immature. But, for a while, I wasn't sure I wanted to return to the writing class, but that impulse passed quickly.

God, it was a disappointing critique, though. I mean, I know I shouldn't go to them for validation regarding whether a story's good, but I don't trust a lot of people outside of class who tell me when they like something. (Jenipher right now is probably giggling that the story wasn't liked, which isn't true. The comments I received on the returned mark-ups were uniformly positive, but the critique didn't really reflect those positive feelings.)

Anyway, if you see me coming, stay away from me. If I call you on the phone, it should be safe to answer.

But, in person, as the weather has gotten colder, so have I.

The return of the Ken.

TVGuide.com reported this news from Mattel today.

WHAT A DOLL!: Mattel announced Thursday that Ken is undergoing an extreme makeover in an attempt to win back Barbie. The couple ended their legendary 43-year romance two years ago amid rumors that Barbie had fallen for an Australian boogie boarder named Blaine. Ken's new look — described by insiders as only slightly less gay than usual — will be unveiled this spring.

We at Life of Riley McCarthy, who conducted a now-famous, exclusive post-breakup interview with the living doll, tracked down a newly blond Ken at a health spa, pictured above, in order to get the scoop on his extreme makeover and his exact intentions with Barbie.
_____

RILEY: So, Ken, what's the deal? You're going back to her?

KEN: Looks like it, I guess. I'm not really allowed to comment. Maybe you should call my people. Or hers.

RILEY: Huh?

KEN: Oh yeah, I got into a lot of trouble with Mattel after my last chat with you. I didn't realize they wouldn't be behind my career without Barbie, but apparently I have a very limited shelf life when I'm single.

RILEY: You don't sound all that enthusiastic about returning to her, Ken. Tell the truth, is this more of a business thing?

KEN: Look, kid. I've tried dating around, keeping things casual, but my life - believe it or not - is much simpler when Barbie's in it. He-Man and I would go to the gym, then he'd take me up to Castle Greyskull to see his favorite sites on Eternia, but I didn't really care to live in a fantasy world with him, no matter how big his sword was. Besides, that damn Orko was annoying. I mean, who has a floating alien sidekick?

RILEY: What about someone else?

KEN: G.I. Joe was all about clandestine meetings and such. He'd say to me, "Look, no one can take our photo together. The army has a very strict policy about such things," so that didn't last long. After a couple nights where I had to dress up as COBRA Commander, that got old quick!

RILEY: Did you attempt to date any of the Bratz dolls or anything? Surely, they've got to be lower-maintenance than Barbie.

KEN: Those Bratz dolls are all kids. I'm way too old for them. Barbie and I dated for, like, 40 years before the breakup. Have you not done your research?

RILEY: But you look so young.

KEN: Yeah, well, wait until you see me this spring. Those makeover people are gonna work wonders for me.

RILEY: Do you think Barbie will take you back?

KEN: Sure, why not? Her people say that sales have gone down since she and I split, and that girl's all about making the money. She'll do whatever necessary to keep her two-story dream house and endless new fashions.

RILEY: But what about Blaine?

KEN: Um, Blaine ... well, things didn't work out for the two of us. He was all about catching waves and stuff, and I'm just beyond that. As for his relationship with Barbie, Blaine was last year's model. And I'm timeless.

RILEY: So you're not still upset with Barbie and her workaholic, shopaholic, glamaholic tendencies?

KEN: Time heals all wounds, kid. Time heals all wounds. Besides, Barbie, with all her faults, is a role model to Paris Hilton and breast-enhanced anorexics worldwide. That's power.

RILEY: So then this whole makeover maneuver is not about love.

KEN: Whoa, you're naive. Barbie and I aren't about love, and we haven't been for ages. This, my friend, is all about business.

RILEY: Oh, OK. Well, um, I have to ask, when they give you the makeover, will the nice people working their plastic magic see fit to endow you with some improvements?

KEN: Oh, probably not. Barbie wouldn't like me if I suddenly got all cocky.

Things to do if your friends make movies.

- My friend Marley Angel and this guy I knew in college named Jacob Gentry are both aspiring filmmakers, and they both recently had breakthroughs in regard to their ambitions. Marley just completed her first short film, SPEED DATING 101, and is submitting it to film festivals. Just click on the title to watch it. Meanwhile, Jacob's first feature, THE LAST GOODBYE featuring Faye Dunaway and David Carradine and filmed in Atlanta, was just released on DVD through Warner. Check out their movies.
- The new Regal Cinemas theater in Atlantic Station - the new, hip neighborhood sprouting up around the IKEA - just opened, I think, or is about to open. That neighborhood seems to have "happened" really, really quickly.



- Director George Clooney's GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK. has been getting across-the-board good reviews for its subject, its pacing and its cast, particularly David Strathairn. It's about newsman Edward R. Murrow taking on Sen. Joseph McCarthy, and I'm all about journalism movies. Even if it is about television.
- Of course, as usual, you could do what I always say and hit the Center for Puppetry Arts. If you've already seen SOMETHING WICKED or another of their shows, you should check out their museum or workshops.
- Charlize Theron's getting even more Oscar buzz for her work in Niki Caro's NORTH COUNTRY, which focuses on the first case of sexual harassment filed in the United States. Wow, McCarthyism and sexual harassment movies, instead of something about superheroes. I guess we should be aware that it's no longer summer at the cinemas.



- The second season of ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT, now available on DVD, is absolutely hilarious, but I think I've figured out why people don't watch it from week to week on television. It's because it's more fun to take the show in giant, multi-episode doses. Perhaps Fox should only show episodes back-to-back or in marathons.
- Since I saw Ben Folds in concert a couple weeks ago, I've been listening to his music in my car at times when I needed to cheer up. When I had a caution light come on in my car and had to drive to Buford, for instance, I listened to ROCKIN' THE SUBURBS on the way home. When I had an identity crisis, I listened to his song, "The Best Imitation of Myself." When I had that abortion, I listened to "Brick." (Yay! Tasteless abortion humor!) Ben Folds makes good, quirky piano music, and I think you ought to listen to him if you haven't already.
- Finally, there's going to be a simple question this week. The great BATMAN BEGINS, featuring Christian Bale as the best Batman ever onscreen, just came out on DVD. So who's your favorite superhero? What's your favorite superhero movie? Who was the best actor to play your favorite superhero? And, to go a little Barbara Walters or Oprah on this question, who is your own personal, real-life superhero?

Shucking with your friends.

This Saturday, because our friend Liz was in town, some high school friends of mine - who usually post comments here on the blog, anyway - gathered in Canton at the Cagle's Dairy Corn Maize to traverse the 50-acre maze, eat some country-fried funnel cake and spend the day together. I took one of those cheap, disposable cameras along with me, occasionally forgetting to charge the flash, so all my photos came out looking like some blurred, hazy Sheryl Crow album cover. (OK, they're out-of-focus, taken while I was wandering blindly through that damn maze for 80 minutes, but I prefer to think of them as intentional and artistic.)



This is my friend Dena, who inadvertantly caused most of the people gathering at her Smyrna home to be late by accidentally giving them directions to an imaginary subdivision. (Dena is not actually taller than the corn. She's on a bridge in this one.)

My friend Steven, on his way to Dena's house, said he had to stop at both a Hispanic grocery store and a yard sale to get the right directions.

One of the women at the yard sale, he later related, said to him, "Honey, I don't think the girl who gave you these directions wants you at her house."

Concluding the story while wandering the maze, Steven said to us, "I always love being mocked at a yard sale."



Before we entered the Maize, which was largely filled with church groups and people with their kids, we jaded almost-thirtysomethings were told the official Maize rules by dairy officials. We were not allowed to pick the corn. (Fine.) We were not allowed to throw the corn at each other. (Fine.) We were not allowed to eat the raw corn. (Fine.) We were not allowed to beat each other up or anyone else in the maze. (Um, OK.) We were not allowed to litter. (OK.) We were not allowed to drink or smoke or use drugs while in the maze. (Um, if you insist.) We were not allowed to use foul language while in the maze. (OK, this is going to be a problem.)

The Maize, we were told, is policed constantly by "Corn Cops" who would punish us. (Upon hearing this, Liz the college prof mutters, "Did he just say 'Corn Cop'?) We could get ejected from the Maize at any point for bad behavior by these Corn Cops. (I hear Liz say, "I wonder if they're in uniform.") The Corn Cops were also there in the maze to help us find our way out. (Liz says, "Oh, I've GOT to get a photo taken with a Corn Cop.")



As you can see from the resulting photo, the Corn Cops only wear Dairy Staff T-shirts. I think Liz was a little disappointed, and I think this particular Corn Cop could tell that she wasn't flirting with him as much as she would if he'd been in uniform. (In her defense, he was a teen.) As a result of Liz's lack of enthusiasm for his Corn Cop prowess, this particular Corn Cop gained his revenge by giving us bad directions, though actually not worse than Dena's, three times.

As we wandered by the Corn Cop after yet another wrong turn, I looked at him and said, "You have a sick sense of humor."

The Corn Cop replied, "Hey, I'm in this corn all day. I have to do SOMETHING to entertain myself."



My friend CJ's wife Solenn, whom some of you readers may remember from other blog posts, was initially selected as our leader and given our team flag. She thus led the way as we walked into the Maize. (Of course, she didn't notice that there was a map on our team flag until we were far into the maze, but oh well.)



We were able to figure out a way around the foul language ban by using corn-based euphemisms.

For instance, I would say to Steven, "Hey kid, go shuck yourself!"

And he'd reply, "Suck my cob, Benjie!"

And I'd say, "No way, dude. I don't want to taste your corn seed."

Eventually, this caught on amongst the group.

CJ, Vic, Liz and Dena, I believe, started making naughty corn references.



The whole trip through both phases of the Maize took us 80 minutes, as I said. (Though Liz told us all to lie and say we finished it in about 20, so people wouldn't think that we weren't worth our college degrees.)

Then, after we left the wholesome land of the dairy, we all went to a good Italian restaurant and got drunk off bottles of Chianti.

It was a very, very good day.

Things to do with a blond Bond.

- The producers of the next James Bond movie, CASINO ROYALE, revealed today that the main character will now be played by British actor Daniel Craig. Craig's a good choice, even though I believe his hair is usually blond. He's ruggedly handsome and able to play suave, like he did earlier this year in LAYER CAKE. (Were you reading my "Things to Do ..." list when I mentioned LAYER CAKE six months ago?) In real life, he's been rumored to romance Kate Moss and Sienna Miller. Onscreen, he's played a love interest to Gwyneth Paltrow in SYLVIA and Angelina Jolie in TOMB RAIDER. Craig apparently said he'd take the part, additionally, after reading the script for CASINO ROYALE, which I think is a good sign for the movie. CASINO ROYALE was Ian Fleming's first James Bond novel, and there's been talk that this movie may be faithful to the original book, which showed Bond as a conflicted, troubled man - not just some superhero.



- In preparation for the new biopic CAPOTE starring Philip Seymour Hoffman, I picked a copy of Truman Capote's true-crime novel IN COLD BLOOD a couple weeks ago, and it's a compelling, good read. (The fact that it was an instant classic upon its release and essentially created the true-crime genre should speak to its value far more than I can, though.)
- SOMETHING WICKED continues at the Center for Puppetry Arts through October 29, and I'm annoyed that, because I had to work, some people who read this site got to see the show before me and told me how good it was. I intend to check it out sometime this week, though I feel that the ultimate ticket may be to the show's final performance, which will be a late-night affair where Halloween costumes are encouraged.



- Lupo and I caught the new Curtis Hanson film IN HER SHOES on Sunday, and its really good script and really strong performances from Cameron Diaz, Toni Collette and Shirley MacLaine made the movie much better than I expected it to be. It's really entertaining and smart, even though it looks like another chick movie.



- THE COMPLETE CALVIN & HOBBES is available on display in my bookstore now, and it's proven to be a distraction for me. It's hard to go to the information desk and not read a couple strips, even though I'm supposed to be helping customers or doing shelving. CALVIN & HOBBES was my favorite, moreso than PEANUTS or THE FAR SIDE. I want that book.
- John Banville's THE SEA won the 2005 Man Booker Prize this week. It's pretty much the highest honor a British or Canadian author can receive for a book, equivalent to the National Book Award or the Pulitzer. The winners, like Yann Martel's LIFE OF PI, are usually good reads. THE SEA hasn't been released in the United States yet, but you'll be able to find it in November.



- After hearing one of their songs in the movie preview for THE ICE HARVEST, I'm tempted to buy The Eels' latest album BLINKING LIGHTS AND OTHER REVELATIONS. The song was called "Trouble With Dreams," and for some reason I'm the sort that can't just download a song.
- Tomorrow, as planned, a group of my high school friends and I will converge upon the Cagle's Dairy Corn Maize, and I'm sure we'll be lost within it for hours. I expect a good story to come out of this.
- Finally, UNICEF's Belgium chapter released a brief anti-war ad showing the effects that warfare would have on the world's children this week. However, instead of stock footage, the people at UNICEF thought it would carry far more impact to employ animators at Peyo to show footage of the beloved Smurfs celebrating happily until bombs rained upon them from the sky, killing them all and destroying their little mushroom village. The message is effectively communicated, of course. Baby Smurf is crying after shrapnel rips apart Smurfette and the gang. Thus, war is bad. But this ad also triggers this week's question. If you could kill off any of your beloved childhood TV characters, who would you choose to kill, and how would you do it? Would you have the Thundercats spayed and neutered? Napalm Fraggle Rock? Tell me about it.

How I learned to write about how I learned to ride.

I'm not entirely sure how this is going to work out. I mean, I don't know how I'm supposed to start writing this, and I don't know if it's a good or a bad idea to write about it on the blog. But, basically, I have another story idea. It's a story that I want to be taken from my childhood memories, but I want it to be an actual story that follows a structure, has identifiable characters and, perhaps, a unifying point. This is my goal. It seems simple, but it's proving difficult. I want to write a structured story with a point.

Since I usually do the confessional essay stuff, though, my first impulse is to write the memory like that, and that would get the story out there into the readers' hands. But it wouldn't show growth in method or growth in attempt.

If I were to write the story the way I usually write things, which would be the story of how I learned to ride a bike and how it taught me to apologize, then I'd fashion myself in the perpetual role of victim or observer that I usually choose, and I don't want to do that. There's a possibility that I could actually grow this story into something better and bigger, if I ever actually finish it. (Have I ever finished anything?)

Still, because the stories usually come from memory, there's no need for a clear timeline. If the story is more formally structured, then the timeline would have to become more concrete, wouldn't it?

Would the story lose impact if I jumble it all together? Would there be glaring fact-check issues if I compressed the timeline, which occurred over a couple years, into a single summer? If I wrote a portion of the story from my father's point-of-view, just in an attempt to define a character other than myself, can I keep him layered and vague? Would my own personal view of him paint him as someone unfeeling and cold?

In the story would I be 8 or 12? Would I compress it to something that made sense? Am I capable of doing this?

I've written the essay version of how I learned to ride a bike before; it was one of the first confessional essay-type things I ever really wrote. I wrote it in 1995 for a penpal of mine. His name was Patrick Flumignan, and he was in Canada. Now, his name isn't that, and he isn't there anymore.

I don't even have the rough draft anymore. This story is old. So, to retell it, I need to do something fun with it and different with it. I want it to still be funny. But I also want it to be better than the stuff I usually do.

And the winner is ...

My friend Steven Igarashi won the puppet show contest of last week's "Things to Do ..." list, and he attended the new show SOMETHING WICKED at the Center for Puppetry Arts last night. The show officially opens tonight, and it runs through October 29.

Thankfully, Steven was nice enough to share his thoughts on the show.



Last night, I had the distinct pleasure of attending a performance of the Center for Puppetry Arts' new adult-oriented show SOMETHING WICKED. Having not attended a showing at the Center in years, I did not know what to expect. However, the Center's website, with its promises of a show that would "seduce, repel, entrance, horrify and satisfy," definitely peaked my interested. Upon arriving, we were invited to visit the museum (A real treat for anyone. Who doesn't love the Muppets and Waylan Flowers' "Madame"?) After our museum tour and a quick stopover in the Wicked Lounge, we made our way to the theater. With tickets in hand, my friend and I ventured into the dark theater not knowing what to expect.

Immediately, I was impressed to find Vanessa Olivarez listed as a cast member. For those who don't recall, Vanessa was a second-season finalist on that little-known show AMERICAN IDOL. I knew immediately that we would be in for a treat with such a talented cast. The show incorporated many different elements, using film clips, live actors, musicians, special effects and the ubiquitous puppets. Though it definitely had a macabre tone, the show itself was not scary per se. Parts were actually very funny, and the whole audience relieved some nervousness with their giggles.

The actors were all quite good, and I was impressed with the production as a whole. I really enjoyed the use of mixed media. The music, film clips, live action and special effects all blended seamlessly. The show was over an hour and a half, and not once did I feel bored. Rather, I was engrossed in how the vignettes tied together and wanted to see how the story unfolded. At the end, I was a bit disappointed for it to be over; I left knowing that my new passion was for puppets and that I would soon be returning.

I highly encourage everyone to go out and see this great show. It makes for a fun evening out with friends, and would also be great for a date! The museum, show and lounge were all worth the low price of admission. If you go, I am sure that you will be impressed by the amazingly talented cast and the polite, helpful staff. So, I extend to you my invitation to see SOMETHING WICKED, no strings attached ... poor puppetry pun completely intended.

I don't know what I learned.

I'm going to make a list this week. Lupo said he'd help me with a "changing my life" effort so long as I put more work into it than he had to. I'm going to start by doing something that's possible. I'm going to start by making a list of what I like about my jobs, what I enjoy doing that I'd want to do in some new job. If I can't generate the optimism to seek out a new post, I'm supposed to fake it.

Thus far, the list is short, which is why I think I'm supposed to work on it for more than a day.

I used to be really good at this motivation thing. Honestly. I used to be formidable, which is like my word of the week.

By the end of the week, Lupo will have a list from me. I want to get this ball rolling. Again. Finally.

Whatever and ever amen.

Tonight, Lupo, Kenn the Artisan and I caught the Ben Folds concert at the SCAD auditorium, and, although some halter-topped young girl in the seats behind us named Cecily who howled like a hyper chihuahua seemed irked by actually having to pay attention to the stage, we all thought the show was rousing and fantastic. I've been a Ben Folds fan since Whatever and Ever Amen, and I think I met Lupo at a point when he was already Folds-faithful. So I'd like to think that we, who sat throughout the concert and paid attention to details like the lyrics, were the target audience and that girls like Cecily can't relate.

I do that. I get distracted by minor elements from my own good time.

I don't remember the exact playlist. I remember that some band called The Fray opened, and they actually had to ask people to stand up and come toward the stage in order to cultivate a better response to their set. When you ask for your standing ovation, you don't earn it, in my book. (But, please, still pay attention to all the e-mails directing you to my blog, people.) Anyway, The Fray was all right, I suppose. In five years, when they're no longer labeled as derivative of Coldplay and have their own sound, I can say I saw them in concert once upon a time, and I'll take pride in that. The lead singer, in a goofy way, was charming, but he was too pudgy to go shirtless in front of the crowd of art students. Boy's gonna need to work out or embrace his geek chic niche. I'm probably being too mean, though. Give them a listen. They're trying.

(Just so you know, the best opening acts I've ever mocked were Soul Coughing and Local H. And, later, I became a fan o' the Soul Coughing, so there you go. I'm drunk, by the way. Or at least tipsy. So I don't know what's going on. I just got my ass handed to me by Lupo during a Trivial Pursuit Pop Culture Edition showdown, so I'm not exactly coherent. I expect an e-mail from Miss Gibson about this post, though. I want her to call me brilliant.)

So are you one of those people who has to fill every possible silence with some story or joke? ... Oh, it's just me then. Oh, OK ... It's completely silly, but, when it gets quiet on my visits anywhere, I feel like silence means that I'm failing my audition at making new friends and/or being charming. No matter how much this isn't the case, I feel like I have to insert some comment into every available silence, if the silence lasts too long, and I need to either work on my compulsion to tell bad jokes or let the paranoia go. Tonight, at the concert, I think I saw the right choice to make. I'm letting the paranoia go. Or, um, I'm going to try to let it go. I'm not going to accomplish this all in one magnificent night, after all.

Anyway, the concert proves Ben Folds' new band does a mean cover of Dr. Dre's classic "Bitches Ain't Shit." It also proves that Folds, given the opportunity, would be a kickass choir director. (In one of the encores, he required a singalong with the audience. During one of the takes, my voice broke like Peter Brady on that very special episode of BRADY BUNCH. Lupo snickered, which was fitting, for the note I hit was truly horrible.)

Piano rock rules. Folds is amazing. The songs are fun, with lyrics more clever than cutesy. This trip is giving me an opportunity to practice being quiet and cool about things and secure with new friends, although my usual Trivial Pursuit mad skills are apparently waning.

Does having to take an Advil during a concert mean that I'm merely sick or that I'm getting old?

I ran into Russ Bynum at the concert, and he's a reporter and editor for the AP now. I went to college with him, and I had my first beer ever while a guest in his home. Walking up to Russ and saying hi, I reintroduced myself, which I immediately realized was stupid and unnecessary. Ego or not, I'm a fool if I don't think I'm capable of making an impression on people.

"I know who you are," Bynum, cigarette in hand and a smile on his face, said to me. "How the hell are you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting friends in town," I said to him. "I just saw you and thought I would come over.

"Of course," Bynum said. "Thank you for saying hello, Benjie."

The last time I saw Bynum was at a party welcoming Miss Gibson back to the States. Bynum rules. They used to call his student house in Athens the Voodoo Lounge, and he hosted the greatest parties there.

Anyway, this is random.

Ben Folds played "One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces," and I thought of Doug Gillett while it was playing. He used to love that song. During "Brick," I hugged Lupo, though it's not like either of us have been party to an abortion. I was just happy to be there.

I'm just happy to be here. I'm just happy to be here.