Vanity Fair, July 2013

Chan is the man!  That’s him on the cover of the July 2013 Vanity Fair.

The picture isn’t, however, all that flattering.

First of all, he seems to have eye make-up.  Self knows all Vanity Fair cover subjects have make-up, but was it really necessary to apply that much.

Anyhoo, self first encountered Chan in Stop-Loss, in which he stole every scene.

Then he was in Fighting, another movie she loved him in.

She rented Step Up from Netflix.

She didn’t think he was that suited to The Eagle of the Ninth, but in all fairness he did seem to be taking the role seriously, even though EW did describe him that year as an “animate bologna column.”

And now it is summer again, and he has a new movie out, “White House Down,” in which Jamie Foxx plays THE HOTTEST PRESIDENT OF ALL TIME, and that’s even when he’s wearing glasses.

Chan, Chan, Chan is the man.

Last summer, this time, self was in Hawthornden.  The Sunday Guardian Magazine had a review of Magic Mike.  Hooooly Hotness!  In self’s room overlooking the driveway, self pored over the pictures.  She just couldn’t wait to see the movie when she got back to the States.

And then came the day, in the middle of the week, when self went off to see the movie.  There she was, in the center of a whole row of women (Not bad for a middle-of-the-day, mid-week screening).  The women on either side (not young) were perched on the edges of their seats.  And never leaned back.

Rich Cohen in Vanity Fair:

He grew.  He’d been big and handsome but became bigger and more handsome still, a sheepish kid heartbreakingly unaware of his own power.  He left Tampa to play college football at Glenville State, in West Virginia, but was soon back.  He’d crapped out, blown it, and seemingly positioned himself on the road to a classic American adulthood, another invisible man, a handsome roofer, a sexy drywall guy, whose looks fade with the seasons.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

Last Friday of June 2013

John Travolta is the guest tonight on Letterman.  Self ponders the Travolta visage.  It is not, she decides, too bad.  That is, the face is still recognizable as John Travolta’s.  He may have had plastic surgery, but it is discreet.  He is charming, even relaxed.  He and de Niro have made a summer movie which self has heard NOTHING — nada —  about.  They show a clip, and it’s very Bourne, that scene where Clive Owen as the assassin told to off Bourne is hiding in a field, and Matt Damon rouses a flock of birds and does an end run and shoots Clive Owen.  In the scene self watches tonight on Letterman, Travolta plays a Serbian and perhaps because or perhaps in spite of the fact that he is Serbian, Travolta is equipped with a very swarthy beard, and tries to kill de Niro with an arrow.  An arrow.

Self has reached, after much travail, p. 283 of Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser.  Carrie is as per usual.  Passive and accommodating.  Hurstwood, the bigamous businessman/husband, is slowly losing his mind.  He used to be rich before he fell in love with Carrie and ran away with her to New York City.  He used to know people.  He used to be a man of consequence.  Now all he can manage is a four-room apartment on 13th Street, just off Sixth Avenue.  He thought anonymity would save him, but it’s a curse.

Here is a picture of p. 283.  Self provides it here because someone has written, in pencil, a number (37,348) at the bottom of the page.  “Look!” self said, showing her book to The Man.  “Someone wrote the word count here, at the bottom of the page.”  The Man looked.  Yawned.  “How’d you know that’s the word count?” he opined.  “What else would it be, on p. 283?” self responded.

Sister Carrie, by Theodore Dreiser:  the first book on her reading list for Summer 2013

The Mysterious Number:  37,348, found on p. 283 of Sister Carrie, by Theodore Dreiser: the first book on self’s summer 2013 reading list

The musical guest on Letterman is a duo called Japandroids.  And they are playing rock.  Like, really hard rock.  Wow.  Suddenly, everything old is new again.  Has self really lived that long?

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

“The Killing”: Season 3, Episode 4

Dear ones, self is re-viewing Season 3 Episode 4 of “The Killing” (AMC, Sunday nights at 8 p.m.), self’s new TV addiction.  Detective Linden (Mireille Enos:  love this woman’s hair!  It is perfect for the show’s moody cinematography.  And by the way, Seattle has never been shot to such dramatic and menacing effect — it has more than a little in common with Stieg Larsson’s Sweden) is questioning a “Mother of the Year.”

(P.S.  Dialogue’s a little rough.  Do not read unless in the mood for “dark”)

Linden:  Your daughter’s a prositute, Read the rest of this entry »

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