VeronicaMarsTalk

And this week’s it’s:

Cheatty Cheatty Bang Bang. Cassidy "Beaver" Casablancas believes that his sexy stepmother Kendall is cheating on his father, so he hires Veronica to investigate the situation, but neither are prepared for what they find.

I’m sure this is going somewhere less obvious than it sounds. See you later, kiddoos.

(And the season 1 box set is on its way, yay!)

 

GilmoreGossipCircle Alert

So, yeah, I rewatched last week’s episode and–while there were some nice grace notes–must concur with the group’s overall eh. I must have picked the wrong day to give up cocaine. Tonight looks better though:

We’ve Got Magic To Do. Rory (Alexis Bledel) does a fabulous job organizing a big DAR bash for Emily (Kelly Bishop). However, at the party, Richard (Edward Herrmann) confronts Logan’s (Matt Czuchry) father, Mitchum Huntzberger (guest star Gregg Henry), about his opinion of Rory’s journalistic talents, while Emily has an even uglier confrontation with Logan’s mother, Shria (guest star Leann Hunley), over the romance between Rory and Logan. Meanwhile, after a small kitchen fire at the Dragonfly Inn, Lorelai (Lauren Graham) needs Richard’s help settling the insurance claim and uses the time spent with her father to needle him about the fact that he has been unable to get Rory to return to Yale. Though he’s annoyed with Lorelai, Richard has to admit that Rory is not where she should be. Melissa McCarthy, Scott Patterson, Yanic Truesdale, Liza Weil and Sean Gunn also star. Michael Zinberg directed the episode written by Daniel Palladino.

Mad? Mad Genius?

Who can say for sure?

The Saturday night show was set against a backdrop that called to mind the confluence of a carnival sideshow and a burlesque theater. There was a Thumbelina-size woman in jeans and a nearly transparent blouse and a gentleman in yard-long, auburn dreadlocks who looked like a Rastafarian Rumpelstiltskin. Redheaded twin girls wore complementary gold party dresses. The models, as always, were chosen for their unusual physical attributes. But instead of selecting only aberrantly tall young women who weigh 110 pounds, there were beanpole men, tiny old folks, models with jet-black skin and others almost as pale as an albino. The extremes of humanity were drawn together in a celebration of diversity. It was fashion taking on some of its worse biases: fat, old and ugly.

And it was uncomfortable.

The audience laughed. One woman in the audience jerked fitfully back and forth, she was so overwhelmed with amusement. Some people pointed and howled in hysterics. Others applauded appreciatively, offering the models encouragement for stepping into the spotlight — a daunting task even for those who do it five or six times a day.

A single-page handout left on each seat underscored Galliano’s intention, printed with the lyrics to a song familiar to anyone who’d ever been to Sunday school: "Jesus loves the little children / All the children of the world. / Red and yellow, black and white, / They are precious in His sight. / Jesus loves the little children of the world."

Regardless, Galliano will never be accused of subtlety.

Y’all Come

Christopher Rowe, Erin Keane, Mark Rudolph and I will be reading this Saturday, October 15, starting at 6 p.m. at Destinations Booksellers in New Albany, Indiana. The reading’s called Four Writers, Four Voices, but I may well use extra voices just to throw people off. Oh, and the fabulous Lipkandy might be playing some acoustic happiness for your ears.

So, Louisville/Indiana types, if you’re out there, y’all come. It should be fun.

Writers Need Lists

From Some Rules of Writing by Nicola Griffith (one of a fairly extensive bunch of pieces over at the Online Writing Workshop, about which I know very little):

One of the clearest markers of bad writing is, in my opinion, the unexamined cliché.  Think hard about every single word and phrase you use. Don’t write "her heart stopped" unless you mean she died.  Don’t talk about saucy serving wenches in an inn where the beef stew is thick and hearty and the ale is fresh, nutty, and strong…unless you intend to use such a cliche to good effect, to twist it upon itself and the reader for a purpose.  (Why aren’t "serving wenches" ever tired, middle-aged women?  Why, in worlds with no refrigeration, is the meat never spoilt–or intensely flavored with spices to prevent/slow down said spoilage?  Why is the beer rarely yellow, or thin, or cloudy with sediment?  Why do barbarians always "come down from the north"?  Why do people who fall over the edge of cliffs always "scrabble for purchase?")  Stereotypes such as sly Arabs, money-lending Jews, feisty old women, dignified and wise kings, comic-relief peasants, green-eyed and raven- tressed heroines with "mouths just a bit too wide for beauty" and pert noses are signs of lazy writing and/or a failure of imagination.  Many clichés are "self-evident truths": women are weaker than men; Americans are superior to Africans; humans are more innovative than aliens; women-only worlds would be boring, homogeneous places where the inhabitants sit around all day and think about men; capitalism is fabulous; all cultures appreciate art; genius is more valuable than compassion; straight men are more butch than gay men; Christians are more reasonable than Moslems; war is inevitable.  The list is endless (or at least very, very long).  All writers commit cliché to some extent, but the better you are, the less often you’ll do it.  Clichés undermine fiction; they’re like rust on the cables suspending the reader’s disbelief.  One is a little unsightly, but many mean that disbelief will come crashing down, your books or story will be tossed aside, and you will have lost a reader forever.

Monday Hangovers