Darkest Hour
February 12, 2018Darkest Hour is up for best picture and best lead actor at the Oscars in a few weeks. The always worthwhile Creative Review has an interesting article on the visual effects used to create sets perfect for the period.
Worth a read.
The Strange Itinerary of Some Chinese Fast Food
February 12, 2018This took place in 2015 but I thought it was interesting enough to republish:
The ever-loving and I were in Pacific Centre mall and decided to get some coffee from the food court. It was busy and we shared a table with a couple of young Japanese kids who were eating large plates filled with Chinese food. One of the kids didn’t eat much of his and after a while most of his order was left sitting on his plate.
I watched a street person take a soda cup from the trash, clean it out the best he could, and then get a free drink at the refill station. Enterprising, I thought. He then came over to our table and politely asked the kid if he had finished his meal. When that was confirmed, he took the plate of food and his soda over to another table and began to eat.
Excellent, I thought; that meal isn’t going to waste.
A minute or so later, a bunch of mall cops showed up. They were after someone in the A&W line, but the street guy got nervous, took his soda and left in a rush. The Chinese food still sat on the plate.
Almost immediately a chap came along who looked for all the world like an affluent student. However, he fished a clam-shell container out of the trash and cleaned it off. Then he sat next to where the plate of food was sitting. Over the next few minutes he gradually incorporated the plate into his sphere, sliding it closer and marking off his space with his small bag. He then proceeded to fill the clam-shell with the Chinese food and walk off.
One meal, three users. That is efficient food distribution!
Poem: Aromamore
February 12, 2018was it the jitterbug perfume
she poured on my soul
— the fragrance of an everlasting kiss —
that keeps me staring
into the dark?
my neglected work
— lying angry like an abandoned maiden
scattered across my desk —
shivers with jealousy
as I part the curtains once more
and stare into that scented slice
of memory