Beignets and Beads and Brass Bands

“I’m not going to lay down in words the lure of this place. Every great writer in the land, from Faulkner to Twain to Rice to Ford, has tried to do it and fallen short. It is impossible to capture the essence, tolerance, and spirit of south Louisiana in words and to try is to roll down a road of clich

BookBin2011: Book of Secrets

I feel mildly guilty posting the Book of Secrets as a BookBin2011 entry. Why? Because: a) It’s only 151 pages; and b) it’s 3 1/4 inches wide by 3 3/4 inches tall (give or take a centimeter). So, no, not a long read at all. In fact, I read the entire book twice while sitting in an airport terminal, waiting to board a plane for New Orleans. Yes, if you saw a groggy, disheveled-looking nerd at a D.C. area airport at some point last week, thoroughly engrossed in a pocket-sized black book, there is a good chance that you experienced a rare sighting of the White Wolf.

Was it good for you, too?

Anyway. If you’re like me, always curious about things that you’re not supposed to know…or maybe even curious about things that you didn’t even know you weren’t supposed to know…then you’ll enjoy this cute little tome of life’s little secrets. Like want to know about the secret first screening of Star Wars? Or the secret life behind the James Bond theme? How about Nixon’s secret Apollo 11 speech? Or the most important secret of them all…the Colonel’s secret fried chicken recipe?

Come on, you know you want to know all these things. So head on over to one of Loba’s favorite online haunts, ThinkGeek.com, and pick up your own copy of the Book of Secrets.

And while you’re there, if you find yourself with a few bucks to spare, go ahead and pick me up a Mace Windu lightsaber. You know, just in case you’re feeling generous… 😉

Final Verdict: It’s cute. It’s small. It’s fun to read, fun to flip through, fun to tuck into your pocket. Therefore, it’s also fun to keep.

Poster Picks: The Exorcist

Wow, a whole week went by with nary a peep from La Loba. What’s up with that? You’d think I had a life or something. Actually, I was busy pursuing that greatest of Zen mantras: Laissez les bons temps rouler.

Don’t worry…the blog post is already writing itself inside my loopy lupine brain.

However, today marks the last Friday of the great, blizzardy-white, freeze-my-paws-off month of January. This, of course, means the last of the special weekly appearance of my Poster Picks series. Guess this means that I should really start thinking about Flashback Friday again, eh?

On to the point then.

Regardless of your feelings toward the horror genre or this movie in particular, it’s relatively impossible to deny that the poster art for the 1973 classic The Exorcist is the very definition of iconic. The version that I chose to include with this post is the most stripped-down version I could find, without even the standard rundown of the performers, directors, writers, best boys, your mom, dogwalkers, company mimes, etc. All we get for text is the author of the story, the story title, and the director.

Here comes the standard font geek-out: I love sans serif and serif paired like this. In most of my own design work, I always try to stick to 2 fonts, and 9 times out of 10, it’s this kind of pairing (I don’t know why, but sans serif always delights me as the secondary font to a primary serif; gee, wonder where else I use such a pairing?). I also have a huge font-on for sans serif with “Ws” that criss-cross in the center the way this one does. Especially such a narrow sans serif. I’ve used fonts similar to this one several times. This is also a gorgeous serif font and the purple color is quite complimentary to the pea soup yellow-green tint of the image that follows.

Heh. Pea soup.

The writer-title-director combo of this poster has pretty much become the triumvirate of horror movie greatness. Blatty’s original novel continues to reign as one of the genre’s strongest offerings. The fact that he placed his story in Washington, D.C., and based it on an actual case of exorcism that occurred right in Maryland means that it gets extra coolness points from this resident of the Old Line State.

I’m delighted to say that, separate from this amazing novel, the movie stands as not only one of the greatest movies of modern horror, but constantly ranks very high on most critical and fan-created horror movie lists. To say this is a must-see of the genre is about as big an understatement as saying Dr. Crusher might be my favorite TNG character.

And who made it a must see? Friedkin. Love him, hate him, think he’s an asshole, the man made a masterpiece and, in doing so, secured his position in horror history.

Then we get that image. That glorious image that horror fans have burned into our souls (and some have etched onto their skin; actually, I’m going to have to say that Exorcist-themed tattoos might actually be scarier than the movie).

This is the movie’s defining moment. The beginning of the showdown. This is when shit gets real. This is the arrival of…The Exorcist.

Duh.

He stands outside the house, so unassuming and small in that blaze of light, which drowns out any details and gives us nothing more than his silhouette. His head is tipped slightly back, letting us know that he is looking straight into that sickly glow. All he brings with him is a satchel.

Oh, and the power of Christ.

One final nerd observation: I love how the streetlamp bisects the image, leaving a distinct separation between the evil on one side and the good on its own side.

Taken out of context (and without that fierce brightness emanating from that top-floor room), this is actually quite a benign image. Nothing more than a man standing outside of a townhouse. It’s a false sense of simplicity and security that permeates this movie…that things so generic can become so traumatizing, so horrific.

Poster Picks: Devil

Today’s pick is for 2010’s Devil. If I’m not mistaken, this is also the newest poster to make it to the Poster Picks Pantheon.

Woots.

The design starts with the movie tagline: “Five Strangers Trapped. One of Them is Not What They Seem.”

I love two things about the appearance of this tagline. First, is the font: a sharp, clean squared sans serif. It has a modern feel to it without being in your face about being new and hip and with it. Secondly, I love the use of bold on the second part of the tagline. Yes, it’s a bit leading, but aesthetically, it just looks appealing.

I love the claustrophobic feel of the tagline’s sentiment. From a personal viewpoint, I can’t imagine much else more uncomfortable than being trapped anywhere with four people I don’t know. Honestly? I don’t even know I’d want to be in such a situation with four people I know very well. Add to this the “not what they seem” variable, and you’re already building a scenario destined to leave me with a humongous NO feeling.

Then comes the primary graphic element of the design: an elevator entrance, bright silver against a dark wall.This gives off an eye-catching chiaroscuro effect that is amped up even further by an unnerving fiery light seeping through the closed doors.

First, though, check the floor number: 6. Say that three times fast, right? Also, notice how the “Down” button is marked black with a red arrow in the center. Nice delineation regarding which direction this elevator is heading.

Now, back to the fiery light coming from between the elevator doors. I’m going to have to say, this is not the kind of light I’d want to see coming from anywhere, but especially not from a space the size of an elevator, where four other people are stuck with me.

Even better though? The light from between the doors connects with the light coming from under the doors and then connects with the reflection against the onyx shine of the floor just enough to give a very identifiable image of an upside down cross. Even those who don’t know or believe the tenets of Christianity understand the meaning of an inverted cross and the implications of the appearance of such an image.

Also, taking into consideration this imagery, think back to the tagline: “One of Them Is Not What They Seem.”

The Devil, you say?

Speaking of the Devil, finally, here comes the movie title. It’s typed out in another sans serif font, this time less squared, narrower, and kerned beautifully.

I love how the vertical support of the cross lines up, with the top aligned with the elevator number and the bottom lined up with the center of the “V” in Devil. The symmetry of this design is absolutely sinister.

Of course, the most frightening aspect of the design comes now: “From the mind of M. Night Shyamalan.”

Has a more chilling statement ever been written? Don’t believe me? Just think about The Happening.

Terrifying.

Sur-Cease and Nepenthe

As I previously mentioned, our drive along California Highway 1 was a little bit of a wash-out. The rain started early and streamed down unrelentingly for a good portion of our journey.

However, as we continued south toward Big Sur, the damask of drizzle finally shook free, and we saw the faintest line of orange break through the steely gray horizon, pushing its warm glow further and further outward each passing mile.

I pulled over a few times, trying to capture the sense of transcendent joy that overwhelmed us at the appearance of sunlight, even if only for the briefest of performances. Ironically, however, one of my favorite shots from these stops was one that shows no sign of sunshine at all:

There’s such a palpable undercurrent of desolation to this photo. Honestly, I keep expecting to catch a glimpse of plastic wrapping and Laura Palmer’s water-soaked curls just out of view behind one of those rocks.

Don’t cry, Andy. It’ll be all right.

Needless to say, this image greatly appeals to my darker sensibilities.

We continued a little further past this point, the sunshine strangely growing in intensity the further south we traveled, yet gloriously diffused by tendrils of mist that slipped along the mountainous crags with sultry ease.

Our final destination was Nepenthe, a restaurant that received convincing enough praise from the folks at Lonely Planet that I figured it would be a lovely end to a long drive. It was here that the sun made its final bid at breathtaking before dipping back to bed:

I do believe this might be what is known as “the money shot.” It’s certainly one of my favorite non-aquarium photos from the day.

As for Nepenthe, if you ever find yourself wandering the edges of California’s coast around Big Sur, you should definitely keep this place in mind. It’s a delightful stop, perched precariously above the water’s edge and providing views that were breathtaking even in the midst of misty gloom. Add to this a roaring fire at the heart of the dining area, cozy cushioned seating with pillows and candles galore, wonderfully bohemian wait staff, and simple yet simply delicious meals, it was indeed worth the drive.

The Remedy for What Ails You

Can I have some remedy?

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZgJrHxWaIg&w=560&h=349]

That’s much better. I do have a soft spot in my heart for the Black Crowes. Why? There are some things that Loba needs to keep to herself. Let’s just say that their cover of “Hard to Handle” can make me smile like a fool every time I hear it. Ah, high school.

But this weekend has been all about remedies. Seems Loba is not as invincible as she would like others to think she is (although other Internet PersonalitiesTM still retain the rights to this particular claim). Seems someone decided to share germs with me. I have the usual suspects in the line-up for this crime, although I’m almost positive I know the prime suspect…even without Helen Mirren’s help.

The cold kicked into effect Tuesday evening, but being the stubborn wolf that I am, I refused to take any time off from responsibilities, either of the work or fun varieties. I detest being sick. I detest the impudence of germs thinking that they can best me, take me down, make me relinquish my duties. Plus, I hate how being sick turns me into a mouth-breathing medicine-addled moron and leaves me waking up with a grungy, phlegmy tongue that feels like I spent the previous evening licking sidewalks in Times Square.

My, that was vivid, wasn’t it, denizens?

So I dragged myself to work the rest of last week, forcing myself to wade through the growing internal maelstrom of germs and cold medicine as they did their war dance through my veins. I pulled it off relatively convincingly by popping pills, drinking copious amounts of hot tea to flush out my system, blowing my nose as discreetly but as often as I could, and going through an entire bottle of Purell. Some people didn’t even realize I was sick, which left me feeling a sense of victory that only someone who once boasted having gone 9 years in a row at school with perfect attendance could possibly appreciate.

The down side of this? Saturday morning, the germs realized that I was no longer bound by workday obligations. I was released from that routine…and they were released from my persistent resistance.

Yes, Seven, resistance is futile.

Other than walking outside to get the mail this afternoon, I haven’t left the lair since I came home Friday afternoon. More to the point, I haven’t really left the couch since I woke up Saturday morning to a renewed raspiness in my throat, a throbbing headache, and a constant pressure on my sinuses that felt like several pachyderms had packed into the space right between my eyes. Yesterday was spent medicating myself,literally and geekily. Big Trouble in Little China is a must for the healing process. That’s what ole Jack Burton says anyway. So, too, are the special features from my Scream trilogy box set. And fan fiction. Lots and lots of fan fiction. All things designed to delight my inner geek while not really requiring any real mental effort of any kind…or requiring that I remain conscious the entire time. Just what I needed.

This morning I woke up feeling a little better…and a little weirded out as well. Seems that all the cold meds decided to wreak royal havoc with my dreams last night. Or at least with the one dream that I can remember. Seems that on the rare occasion when I remember a dream, it’s only one and that’s the one that I’m having right when I wake up. This is, of course, a huge improvement over all the years I spent not being able to remember any dreams. Except for that extremely vivid one I had in high school in which I was Dr. Crusher.

Yeah. Maybe it’s better if I don’t remember my dreams.

So this dream from last night…or rather this morning involved me stuck inside a lighthouse that didn’t work, a remnant, I’m assuming, from the fanfic I read last night that was loosely based on the horror movie El Orfanato. It was storming outside, the intermittent lightning providing the only light within the structure. I was there because I was looking for someone (another remnant from the same fanfic; yeah, I know…that’s some severe stream-crossing going on there, Dr. Spengler), but the rain had forced me to take shelter.

However, the lighthouse was next to a river instead of an ocean, nestled down low enough that the waters flowed right past one side of the structure, and the bottom level was composed of glass, allowing me to see what was floating past.

Suddenly, this enormous fish swam into view. I’m talking enormous, large enough that it was longer than the river was wide. As it came up parallel to the lighthouse, it began to swim in slow circles, looking almost like an ichthyian ouroboros. It was mesmerizing and I remember being drawn into the river, which was now suddenly inside the lighthouse. There was a calming, somewhat anthropomorphic quality to the fish that entranced me for many moments before I had this stunning epiphany that I needed to photograph the fish.

I began to slowly ease away from the fish, back to the river’s edge. A voice from behind and slightly above me caused me finally look away. It was Sara Sidle, descending the spiral staircase of the lighthouse. She was wearing her CSI vest with the stitched name tag and the reflective tape on each side, and a pair of black leather gloves. All she said was, “If you leave now, you won’t see her again.”

I stopped for a moment, looking back at the fish, still circling. But I am apparently as stubborn in lucidity as I am in reality. I climbed back onto the shore and ran as quickly as I could to get my camera.

I returned to the shore and the fish was gone. So, too, was the elusive CSI. The river was no longer flowing, instead turning to solid ice as I watched. I looked around, trying to find someone…anyone who could help me. But I was alone. I turned back to the freezing waters, and the last thing I remember before waking up was this intense need to dive beneath the ice and find the fish.

I’ve revisited this dream several times throughout the day, examining and analyzing all that I can remember. I’ve come to certain opinions about what it all means, and I’ve decided that sometimes the way my brain works scares even me.

Needless to say, today has been another one for relaxing on the couch, reading an actual book this time and watching movies that don’t involve Kurt Russell shaking the pillars of Heaven. And this evening has kicked off with watching an Encore special called Industrial Light & Magic: Creating the Impossible. I learned a few things that I didn’t already know (since it is the law that one must know the history of ILM as part of the bargain of keeping their geek cred in tact). Most interesting tidbit? Everyone keeps making a big deal about how Ryan Reynolds’ Green Lantern costume is all CGI. Well guess what? It’s not the first time this has occurred. Robert Downey, Jr. detested the physical Ironman costume they built for him to wear so much that the ILM crew finally told him to take it off and not worry about it…they’d take care of it. So take that, Reynolds. Take it all the way back to Canada. I also received proof that my initial opinion of J.J. Abrams as a massive douchewanger is even truer than I originally thought. Oh, and he definitely doesn’t deserve the right to have anything to do with Star Trek.

And now it’s time for dinner. Homemade pizza. Yes, my prime suspect may have shared these accursed germs with me in the first place, but said suspect has also made sure I have been well fed throughout my convalescence. Prophets know I’m awful when it comes to knowing what to make myself when I’m well. Had I been left to my own devices, I probably would have survived on tea, toast, and Twizzlers.

So there you have it, denizens. Loba has been taken down, but not out. Like the Phoenix, I shall rise (hopefully, though, someone will stop me before I turn all Dark Phoenix and try to take over the world). And thankfully, I have tomorrow off. And Spike is running an all-day CSI marathon. Bonus!

Oh, and bonus for you, too. Here’s another Black Crowes video. Hope it makes you smile even half as much as it does me…

Poster Picks: The Skeleton Key

If you haven’t figured this out about Loba yet, let me inform you all now: I love a bit of PhotoShop trickery. True, I find it a little unnerving what one can do with PhotoShop if one has the necessary skills…but as someone possessing a modest level of Shop-Fu, I also know the immeasurable amounts of fun one can have as well (although I’m sure that those who have found themselves the focus of my PhotoShopping attention might disagree).

It’s no surprise, then, that I was immediately drawn to the teaser poster for the 2005 thriller The Skeleton Key. This is a beautiful example of how, even with mad PhotoShop trickery skillz in full play, giving away as little as possible will always have the biggest impact.

The poster’s composition is dominated by one thing: an unnerving close-up of an eye. Obviously belonging to an older person, as revealed by the deep wrinkles (which look like they’ve been more deeply defined by a little color burning) and the silver hairs within the eyebrow, the eye itself is gone. In its place is the superimposed image of a man in a wheelchair, sitting beneath a canopy of Spanish moss. His back is to the camera as he faces a slightly mist-shrouded house in the far distance.

Even before examining anything else about this composition, I have to say that I was highly impressed, not only by the sheer creepiness of the overall image, but also by the beautiful details that went into this work. The cropping of the image is so precise, showing us no more than what the designer wants us to see and bringing us uncomfortably close to this strange, aged face. The eye replacement is impeccable: The Spanish moss lines up perfectly, looking almost like the reflection of eyelashes; the shadowing is convincing; the photo curves along the natural curve of the eye in just the right ways; and I adore the added detail of still being able to see moisture along the bottom left edge of the eye.

[Loba Tangent: You know what’s really weird? I can’t stand the word “moist,” but I just realized that the word “moisture” doesn’t bother me at all. Crazy, huh?]

Beyond the off-the-scale creep factor of this image, what else can we infer about this movie? Obviously, it takes place in the American South. That house screams antebellum plantation house, and Spanish moss is only a regular resident of those warmer, stickier states as well. Already, I’m gearing up for a bit of Southern Gothic Horror fun.

The presence of someone in a wheelchair at the foreground strikes a balance between curiosity as to what placed him in this position as well as a sense of foreboding. A horror movie is a bad place to find yourself in a wheelchair, natch. Plus, he strikes such a solitary pose there on the grounds of that rather large and foreboding looking house.

Finally, who is it who is watching this man? This mysterious voyeur with no eyes but who sees all? Or at least sees as much as we’re being allowed to see? Because of the cropping and the use of color burning in some places and desaturation in others, there are no concrete clues about the gender or race of this person. Only that they are aged. And currently our only guide into this dark and lonely world.

The remaining elements of this design are equally controlled and sparse. At the top is one name, Kate Hudson, in a white serif font and sporting a classy bit of kerning between the letters (I love when kerning is used for good). Then, below the eye comes the movie title, written in a sans serif this time, with some mottled coloring and wear to give it a little panache. The designer gives us a gorgeous bit of bonus detail here by turning the “E” in “Key” into part of a keyhole, complete with a mysterious glow coming through the bottom. Very clever. Very subtle. Very nice.

The designer of this poster has conveyed just enough about this movie to pique my interest while holding back enough to make me want more. These are definitely mad PhotoShop and creativity skillz at work.

SanFran PSA

It would be a magnificent lie if I wrote right now that I try to keep things non-biased and non-political here at the lair. I really don’t try that at all. And while things are nowhere near the level of political that they were in my Angry BloggerTM days (and while I’m nowhere near as big a blue jackass donkey as I was in those days either), I still like to throw out the occasional political jab.

Like this one. I came across this sticker while wandering back from my walk to the Pacific through Golden Gate Park. It was stuck to a telephone pole somewhere on Fulton Street:

There’s really nothing else to say after that. Although, I do very much enjoy the little heart at the end of this message. See? It’s a PSA written with nothing but love, denizens. Just like everything else that appears here at the lair…