Copied from hominysnark.

01. Comment to this entry saying 'ICONS!' and I will pick 6 of your icons.
02. Make an entry in your own journal and talk about the icons I picked.

And here are the icons she asked me about:

1. moppet




This is my inner child, aged 2 or 3, caught in the act of "helping" to make breakfast. No one has smeared grease across her face, that's just the way her freckles presented themselves back in the day.

2. trenchcoat



This is from this Diane Arbus photograph. This young guy is all spiffed up in his trenchcoat and fedora and probably thinks he looks pretty cool, but she's probably taking a picture of him because she thinks he looks funny. There's an innocence in his expression that's quite touching to me—maybe I'll give Arbus the benefit of the doubt and say she saw it, too. To me, this is a symbol of sincerity in the face of irony.

3. le monkey de suck



I use this for "suck monkey" sometimes and sometimes as an example of seemingly good ideas that go horribly, horribly wrong. This was a marionette somebody had posted pictures of on a website (available for children's shows). It is one seriously scary, creepy mama jama. Here's another shot of the dear thing:



4. daredevil kiss



I got this one from this magazine cover from 1940. One of the stories listed on the cover is "That Daredevil Kiss." It's my emblem of frothy/girlie stuff. You might also want to check out this cool website.

5. thunderbolt



I found this one when I was writing my alternate universe steampunk novel, A Rain of Angels. I particularly like the detail of the Indian standing on the ground as if yelling, "Hey, what they hell--?" Thunderbolt is the name of one of Frank Reade's airships. Frank Reade was a fictional character in a series of dime novels for boys written by a series of different writers starting in 1876. I guess he was quite popular back then, but he didn't get as much wuffie as Jules Verne and H. G. Wells. Not continental enough, I guess. You also might want to check out this website.

6. SC vs. the Martians




hominysnark said, "That one's probably self-explanatory, but you know I had to go there."

Yes, she did have to go there because she's into obscure, very bad movies just like I am. And Santa Claus Versus the Martians is one of the highest quality truly bad movies in existence—and also one of my favorite episodes of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. The jokes practically write themselves, folks! Truly wonderful horribleness. I use this as an example of schlockiness and also as "alternate Christimas" icon. This icon is also from Santa Claus Versus the Martians:

Fabulous, just fabulous.  Difficult to watch in parts because it is set is some of the poorest slums in India, but worth the journey, and not all doom and gloom.

Original and amazing.  A romance-thriller-coming of age-comedy-drama-gangster-quest-Rocky-social commentary movie.  Yeah, that's what it is.

And I'll say no more because that would just spoil the view for youse all.

ETA: Yes, the marketing has been somewhat misleading, calling this a "feel good" movie. This is a movie about crushing poverty, the brutality it causes, and the difficult decisions people have to make to survive. But it's also about never giving up, staying true to yourself, and staying focused on what's important. That's something to feel good about. It also raises the consciousness about the appalling conditions some people are forced to live in. Not a bad thing, especially in the glib West.

September 4, 1995

[According to Wikipedia, the IMDb opened up for business in 1990, but I didn't know about it at the time of this entry. This is rather funny in light of that, but whatevs. And I should warn you, this was in the full flower of my filmmie days, so there's a lot of that sort of thing going on here. ::sigh::]

I stayed up late last night watching an old silent film on Turner Classic Movies. I was channel surfing and became fascinated by it. I switched to the Cable Prevue Guide to find out it was called The Chess Player. Set in Poland when it was in the thrall of Catherine the Great and Russia, it centered around a young man named Boleslas who tried to lead a rebellion. The rebellion is crushed and a badly injured Boleslas is whisked off to the home of the quirky artist/inventor of automatons Baron von Kempelen and his lovely ward, Sophie, who’s about sixteen or seventeen and thinks she’s in-love with a young Russian officer named Serge, who is, coinkydinkily, Boleslas’ best friend. To keep Boleslas safe from the Russians who are searching everywhere for him, Baron von K. incorporates Boleslas into one of his automatons, a chess player. Then things really go to hell.

We would later learn that Sophie, who loves Poland and wants it free, is really a Russian princess who Catherine had spirited away to Baron von K. sixteen years earlier, but I have no idea why. She also snaps out of her looniness and realizes, as any sensible girl would, that she actually loves Boleslas. All of this happened before I tuned in and I was able to piece it together as I watched. What kept me watching was 1) I like silent movies and you don’t always get opportunities to watch them on TV; 2) very interesting art direction; 3) the quirky automatons, which were surreal, wonderful, fabulist; 4) the alternately fine and absurd style of the acting; and 5) the amazing beauty of the actor playing Boleslas.

How to describe him? He had a face rather like the actor who played in Abel Gance’s Napoléon, but I don’t think it was him. [No, it wasn't. That was Albert Dieudonné.] He had long, straight black hair; a strong, prominent nose; a firm jawline, and beautiful, large dark eyes. Ah, he was lovely. He looked a bit like Caius [one of my characters], but not exactly. Anyway, I have no idea who he is and it’s driving me crazy. [Ah, IMDb, how I love you.] They ran no credits at the end (an abomination!), only credits telling who’d done the restoration work. So odd to think he’s probably very, very old or dead now. He was one of those presences that stepped right off the screen: a Purple Rose of Cairo kind of guy...

[MILD SPOILER ALERT IN CASE ANYONE PLANS TO SEE THIS.]
It was a very nice film, with a great scene of automatons wreaking automatic revenge on the villain. And although the young lovers seem to be okay at the end, it’s not settled 100% exactly, and there are other things that make it not a typically rosy American ending.
[END SPOILERS.]

“Oh please, darling, don’t scold me,” just came wafting in here from the other room. TCM is playing some 1930s-vintage movie right now. Where did they all learn that funny Englishoid accent? I can’t believe people actually talked like that anywhere in the States. “Oh, come along darling, don’t lets waste the whole evening . . .”


[Note: the actor playing Boleslas who I was so earnestly seeking was Pierre Blanchar. I can still recommend this film highly, even though my hormones have calmed down. An odd and fabulist and skiffy experience.]

[And I still think it's an abomination not to run the credits at the end of movies shown on TV.)

The bombs are still exploding in the distance and my back fence neighbor continues to set off several loud booms and fizzes as he has all night. Somebody was throwing bombs out in the street earlier. Lots of screaming and shouting, both near and far.

Fireworks of any kind are completely illegal in the City of Los Angeles, btw, so I was so hoping the cops would come by. Maybe they did because the bombing of the street finally stopped.

So what movie did I watch?

Cloverfield.

I must say, the surroundsound added a great deal to the experience. But I could have wished my cat hadn't been so terrorized.

I really loved Cloverfield, btw. My kind of guerilla moviemaking. Or guerilla-like, since Paramount released it.

Every time I try to write literary fiction, I think of that old Barbra Streisand movie, The Owl and the Pussycat, from back in her still-Brooklyn phase when she was less Important and still hilarious.

I don't know if the movie holds up any more because I saw it a lifetime ago, but one of the characters is an unpublished writer named Felix (played by George Segal) who has been writing the same novel for years, never trying anything else because he's struggling to "make it right." I'm not saying literary writers are all like this, but Felix is Very Serious About His Art, and feels Very Misunderstood. Thinking of Felix helps me avoid certain pitfalls of the writing life—and frankly, to be proud that I'm a genre whore.

In the movie, after much cajoling, Felix finally agrees to read his masterpiece to Streisand's character, Doris, an actress and occasional prostitute. He never gets beyond the opening line, to much hilarity all the way around. Her acting out of that opening line for him so he can visualize the metaphor, and his reaction to it, has stayed with me since forever.

It's all about living inside your head, taking yourself too seriously, lacking perspective. The movie is also about accepting yourself for who you really are and not being ashamed of that, which is a good thing. But there's a subtext that also makes me cringe and has also stayed with me since forever: "If you've tried to live out your dream and it goes nowhere, give up."

I think about that one a lot, too, and to this day I'm not sure if it's ever right to give up on your dreams. You may be that geriatric dreamer out there still plugging away, but as long as you're still trying, you're still living. You may never get the golden ring, you may not wind up on the top of the heap, or even stuck in the middle or squashed on the bottom. You may have to modify your dreams, "modestify" them into some form you can live with, but giving them up entirely seems a bit like saying, "That part of my soul looks a little tawdry. I think I'll cut it out and throw it away. No one will notice I've patched it with naugahyde."

Live your dreams. They are who you truly are.

In which hominysnark asks questions for which I give the answers.

If you would like me, in turn, to grill you with five impertinent questions, please leave a comment expressing such desire. Anyone not expressing the desire for questioning gets a free pass in the comments zone.


1. What do you think your biggest writing strengths are?

Certainly not my spare prose and tight pacing. :-(

I used to say character and dialogue, but my characters have gotten rather drifty lately, and my dialogue was once described to me by a Prominent Editor as sounding like it came from a sitcom. Not once, but twice. Ow. I might also say worldbuilding, but I've been recently informed that there were too many intrusions of this Earth into my alternate Earth to be believable.

2. How did you and Min come to belong to each other?

The roommate has a long-standing tradition of feeding strays, which I wholeheartedly support. We're currently feeding five on a regular basis (some of which actually do have homes) plus opossum and raccoons and squirrels and birds. Not quite two years ago a little black kitty showed up. She was so terrified of everybody and everything, and the other cats used to beat her up because she was so small. It took close to two months of feeding and baby talk before she'd let us get near and then quite suddenly one day she not only let me pet her but decided I was her Saviour and became the most lovey dovey kitty imaginable. (She knew a mark when she saw one and correctly identified the weakest link in our household.) The roommate has a bird and wouldn't let me bring the cat in the house but Black Kitty and I wore her down. Me, by putting a door up at the entrance to my section of the house, Black Kitty by mewing pitifully to be let in on the front porch every night. I also am not ashamed to admit that tears were involved. Min moved in September 1, 2006.

(See what I meant about spare prose and tight pacing?)

3. Is there an author whose books make you squeal like a little girl when you see a new one is out?

There are a number who make me tingly with anticipation, but I haven't squealed in quite some time: anything by Charlaine Harris, Kage Baker, J. D. Robb. I guess the closest I came to squealing was when I saw that Ilona Andrew's Magic Burns was on the shelves of my local B&N (end of the aisle display, too!).

4. You and I get together for a weekend of movie-watching--what's on the bill?


The Beast of Yucca Flats, Manos: the Hands of Fate, Gamara, Santa Claus vs. the Martians and other horrifically bad horror/sf movies, accompanied by a healthy helping of snark.

5. Why do my pens keep disappearing? (Be as creative as possible.)

( Okay, this is going to take some explaining... )

I admit I was pretty punchy last night, coming off a couple of intense months of work and it being the night my vacation began. But I'm watching the local entertainment guru on the evening news last night and they were doing a piece on the new Hilary Swank movie, P.S. I Love You. They had an interview with the actor who co-stars in it with her. The text beneath him as he was talking read, "Gerald Butler."

"Wait," says I, "all this time I thought it was the guy from 300, but he's Gerard Butler."

That would have been quite a stretch, I'm thinking, going from Phantom of the Opera (and getting panned for one's singing), then 300, then P.S. I Love You. But wow, that must get confusing, having two actors who look so much alike and one's Gerald Butler and one's named Gerard Butler.

This morning that wasn't quite sitting right, so I hit the IMDB. Impressive range for Mr. Gerard Butler: Phantom of the Opera, followed by 300, followed by P.S. I Love You. Looks like somebody in the newsroom caption typing staff made a wee bit of a typo.

I'm thinking of watching 300 as my Christmas movie, btw. All that festive red.

Here are the movie references from yesterday's The Monday non-Poll.

I did all these in haste from memory originally, so some of the verbiage is different from what I verified at leisure.

Ticky! Come back, Ticky!
Shane: "Shane! Come back, Shane!"

Tickies? I don't got to show you no stinking tickies.
Treasure of the Sierra Madres: Bandito claiming to be a Federale: "Badges! I don't got to show you no stinking badges!"

Ticky. thwap! Ticky. thwap! She's both my ticky and my ticky.
Chinatown: Mrs. Mulwray: "Sister! Daughter! She's both my sister and my daughter!"

Mrs. Ticky, are you trying to seduce me?
The Graduate: "Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me. Aren't you?"

Is that a ticky in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?
She Done Him Wrong: Mae West: "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?" (She reused this line in Sextette many many many many years later.)

Of all the ticky joints in the world she has to ticky into mine.
Casablanca: "Of all the gin joints in the world, she has to walk into mine."

Dammit, Ticky, I love you!
Rocky Horror Picture Show: Dammit, Janet, I love you!

I'd love to ticky you, but I just washed my hair.
Cabin in the Cotton: Bette Davis as Madge: "I'd like ta kiss ya, but I just washed my hair."

WAV: http://www.reelclassics.com/Audio_Video/Quotes7r/bette_cabincotten_kisshair.wav

When you're a ticky you're a ticky all the way.
West Side Story: "When you're a Jet you're a Jet all the way."

"One ticky every ten years—that's a hard ticky." "It depends on the ticky."
Pirates of the Caribbean III: "One day every ten years—that's a hard fate." "It depends on the day."
(This one's completely from memory. Forgive me if it isn't exact.)

Nobody puts Ticky in a corner.
Dirty Dancing: "Nobody puts Baby in a corner."

I had it with some fava beans and a nice ticky.
Silence of the Lambs: "I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti."

Open the pod bay doors, Ticky.
2001: A Space Odyssey: "Open the pod bay doors, Hal."

I'm just a ticky asking to be loved.
Notting Hill: "I'm just a girl asking to be loved."

Tell me about the tickies, George.
Of Mice and Men: "Tell me about the rabbits, George."

Ah, sweet ticky of life at last I've found you!
Young Frankenstein: Ah, sweet mystery of life at last I've found you!"

Ticky, I am your father!
The Empire Strikes Back: "Luke, I am your father!"

Hardly surprising, but satisfying nonetheless. I always liked Ros best.

Link: The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test