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Went to the Drafthouse last night to see Ichi The Killer last night with cousin Nick and a friend of his. I've seen it in the theater before, and I've got a, uh, preview copy at home, but it's just such a fun and disturbing spectacle that I had to see it again. I love the way the director makes it look so easy, and mixes the horror and comedy so finely. Also, I was pretty curious to see how an Austin audience (which was the smallest I've see at the Alamo, maybe twenty) would react to the film, especially when they're serving food there. The servers made themselves pretty scarce during the actual showing, which is understandable - although, you'd think that the staff at a theater that has a cannibal film festival (complete with five course meals and a trailer featuring a moviegoer eating his own hand) would be made of sterner stuff.
We got out of the movie just before midnight. The block on Colorado between Fifth and Sixth Streets is a sight to behold. There's all sorts of trendy little places with valet parking, full of people I do my damndest to avoid if at all possible. Obnoxious drunk square-heads, teetering bleach blondes cheeping into their cell phones, for the most part, flocking between Polly Esthers and the chic new Latin dance place. It's like the worst parts of the '80s exploded all over downtown. I blame the republicans; fortunately, if things go as they should, we should get a bitchin' new crop of punk rock out of all this.
Bernie and Dave and Mel had prior commitments, so they couldn't go to Ichi, but they saw something almost as horrifying - Xanadu. Fortunately, the Mr. Sinus guys were there, along with a bunch of roller girls, and a special guest star, Michael Beck, from The Warriors! I'm sure it wasn't as fun as it sounds, though, so I feel warm and confident in my decision to go with the nipple slicing and hot oil torture.
I've been falling behind on my media consumption lately. I finally got through a couple of Netflix movies (Windtalkers sucked so much), and took a night to zip through Chuck P's new book, Diary. I'd been putting it off for a bit, because I heard it wasn't all that great, but I think it's a pretty strong bit of work. Some people have a problem with his writing - to me, he just feels like a pissed-off Tom Robbins who hasn't had his coffee yet. Or maybe too much coffee. Or both.
We pulled out the old medicine cabinet from the side wall in the bathroom. I had some resistance to getting rid of it, but I wasn't sure why, and it was pretty crappy, and needed to go. After it was gone, I realized that I always turned to take a brief peek at myself after going to the bathroom - today, I turned and there was just a big patch of unfinished wall where I was used to seeing my face for a second. It's still pretty disconcerting. I'm sure it'll get better once it's painted.
My H.P. Lovecraft tarot deck showed up today. The cards are pretty crappy quality, but the artwork is very nice and evil.(October 10, 2003 02:14 PM)