Monday, August 2, 2010

August, thus far.

1. True Blood last night was weak. Boring, predictable, not nearly enough sex (as Sawyer would have said). I finally figured out my beef with a lot of the show: The chicks are cardboard, even Sookie. The only one I find remotely interesting is Pam. On the the contrary, I enjoy almost all of the men, which is suppose why I continue to watch it. I think if they got someone to coach Anna Paquin on the southern accent I'd be satisfied, but she's not the only one whose accent grates. What they should do is get the "Moses Supposes" guy from Singing in the Rain to come over and do some "ta-tay-tee-toe-too"s with the chicks. Or do a show completely devoted to Eric Northman, or Eric Northman's ass, or both. Dare I say that the wolves in Eclipse were better? Better not. . .

2. I tried watching Hearts in Atlantis last night; I turned it off after about an hour. If a film doesn't get me in the first hour, it's not worth my time. Anthony Hopkins was fine, he's quite talented, but for some reason that kid was just too. . . (Magoo?) Charlie Bucket or something. Not what I envisioned, nor was the mother.

3. August Book Stack:


I am out of time, so I can't find individual images, so this is what you get. I swiped On Writing back from my mother's house when I was there last week; I've read it before and I loved it dearly. The Paul Tough was recommended to me by my cousin, who's a teacher, the Frankl and Plath have been sitting on my shelf for a while, and the Meyer? A neighbor lent it to me a few weeks ago, I feel like to read it would be polite, but I'm not setting my expectations too high. . . if anything it might just give my own self esteem a boost, which I suppose every would-be writer needs from time to time.

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