Posts Tagged ‘summer camp’

This may be the best Wes Anderson ever. There will be no review, but I will tell you a few things that I loved.

raccoon patch (badge?) of the Khaki Scouts

the canoes

the tents

those dark green canvas tents we had to use when I was a kid at summer camp in Charlevoix, Michigan and how they would not repel water when it rained

the smell of mildew (actually hate this, but it’s a stark memory; the first time I smelled it was at summer camp)

Edward Norton’s character

the two lead actors

Bill Murray’s face

Bill Murray’s naked belly

Billy Murray’s hair

the inside of the sheriff’s trailer (SO MUCH!)


Gogol Bordello (oops, that wasn’t in the movie)

the Benjamin Britten, Hank Williams, Mark Mothersbaugh, et al, soundtrack

the Burnell family (okay, you don’t know what that means or who they are, but trust me, they belong in this post)

growing up in the 1960s and 70s and how much Wes Anderson seems to understand this about me


the repeated motifs of death and loss and love in Anderson’s movies

recognizing the Ocean House at Watch Hill near the end of the movie

crisp writing

attention to detail

clear vision

trusting the audience’s intelligence

I went to the movie having seen a trailer for it only once and that was a few months ago. I recommend the same. In fact, you shouldn’t even be reading this post.

I loved going over the fine flaws in the film with Hubby afterward. I love knowing that the flaws don’t matter, even the more gross ones, because its heart, its heart, its heart is in the right place and we trust Wes Anderson.

My kids being at the movie, sitting behind us, getting the movie. Getting it and asking to see it again, asap.

The trailer for Sleeper that was played before the movie because Amherst Arts Cinema will be doing a Woody Allen retrospective this summer. Knowing how shitty his last movie was in spite of people falling all over themselves saying how great it was and what a return to form. How shitty his new movie looks even though I’ve never been to Rome. BUT BUT BUT, I am trying to trust that his old stuff will please, oh god, please, stand the test of time so I can go to see some of those movies again on the big screen, what a gift, I hope I hope I hope. We used to watch several of these films at home when we still had a VCR player. We had about 5 of his really good films. I remember that Hannah and Her Sisters was busted and wouldn’t play anyway. What to do with all of this waste, this plastic, this human folly? But I digress….

the little plastic record player that is featured in the film and is built and folds into its own case so cleverly. You already know I didn’t have one of those growing up, remember?

C’est tout, mes petites….

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spoiler alert: this post starts out silly and ends with Trayvon Martin. It has been an organic piece of writing and I’m gonna stand by it; at least I think I know what I’m doing

Click through and see the Utz girl eat potato chips before your very eyes. Yes, I have mentioned her before.

Did you ever think that organic food is popular because the word organic is close to the word orgasmic?

Orgasms, what’s the big deal? You can never get enough of them and everything’s over too fast, even the long ones.

I like hot flashes. All that sudden heat created by ME without me even trying. It’s fucking awesome. However, I am not sure I’ll be enjoying them so much in the middle of summer.

Note to self: do not wear thermal shirts during peri-menopausal years unless it’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey

I don’t even like that expression. Where the hell did it come from?

I do remember a song from when I was a kid at summer camp which had the line “it’s cold as the hair on a witch’s ass”

Here’s what I remember:

It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold,                                                                                                                                                                           it’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold                                                                                                                                                                              it’s cold as the foam on a tall beer glass, it’s cold as the hair on a witch’s ass

(oh, wordpress, why must you irk me like that, effing with my line breaks? WHY!?!)

Does anyone else know that song? I swear I learned some crazy things at summer camp. But I never made out with anyone, which I understand is something that is maybe supposed to happen at summer camp.

I went for 5 summers in a row from the time I was 7, so not making out by the time I was 12 seems OK. Whew!

What if it was peace of ass instead of piece of ass? Because we all know that getting a piece of ass makes you calmer and more peaceful. See? The phrase would effectively kill two birds with one stone.

How do vegetarians feel about idiomatic expressions using images that are violent toward animals? I’ve discussed this before.

And vegans, how do vegans feel about phrases involving violence toward butter or violent acts committed with butter? Don’t you go thinking about Last Tango now either, ‘kay? Because I only saw that movie once in college and you know, I don’t think it was very good. I thought The Last Emperor was better. I used to love John Lone but he was never in very many movies.

I will not stand by the term “wife-beater” to describe a man’s white ribbed cotton undershirt, the kind my dad wore. Do men still wear those? My Greek friend calls them papou t-shirts and I like that better. When you pronounce a p in Greek, it’s really more of a b sound.

I believe that this is true: the Finnish language has no word for “toes”

Stand your ground: wasn’t Trayvon Martin the one who needed to do this? What about his self-defense? A neighborhood watchman with a gun trumps an unarmed minor every time.

I tire of the debates and comments that continue to defend the actions of George Zimmerman based on some notion that Zimmerman behaved in the only possible way he could have in such a situation.

I think about Trayvon Martin’s parents. I think about Emmet Till and his brave mother; and don’t tell me this situation is nothing like that situation.

No matter what happens to George Zimmerman, Trayvon’s parents will never have their son back. Never.

You wake up, you make the coffee in the automatic coffee maker, do your morning routine, whatever it is, you hope for the best, that this time your kids leave the house will not be the last time you will ever see them.

Still, I can’t help but be grateful when I hear this.

Astral Weeks, Van Morrison

If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dream
Where mobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop

Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down in silence easy
To be born again, to be born again

From the far side of the ocean
If I put the wheels in motion
And I stand with my arms behind me
And I’m pushin’ on the door

Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down in silence easy
To be born again, to be born again

There you go standin’ with the look of avarice
Talkin’ to Huddie Ledbetter
Showin’ pictures on the wall
Whisperin’ in the hall
And pointin’ a finger at me

There you go, there you go
Standin’ in the sun darlin’
With your arms behind you
And your eyes before
There you go

Takin’ care of your boy
Seein’ that he’s got clean clothes
Puttin’ on his little red shoes
I see you know he’s got clean clothes

A puttin’ on his little red shoes
A pointin’ a finger at me
Standing in your sad arrest
Trying to do my very best

Lookin’ straight at you
Comin’ through, darlin’
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah

If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dreams
Where mobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop

Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down in silence easy
To be born again, to be born again
To be born again, to be born again

In another world, darlin’
In another world
In another time
Got a home on high

Ain’t nothing but a stranger in this world
I’m nothing but a stranger in this world
I got a home on high in another land
So far away, so far away

Way up in the heaven, way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven, way up in heaven, oh
In another time, in another place
In another time, in another place

Way up in the heaven
In another time, in another place
In another time, in another place
In another face

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