Hustle

obscuresound.com

Newfound happiness: The United Kingdom's Tunng. They're like a more mature New Pornographers. Have a listen.

Tunes

Shots

Sigur Rós. Naturally, this photographer is after my heart.

I have recently become enamored with the work of Portland-based photographer Megan McIsaac. (And before I forget, my blog's revamped style is thanks to the focal point photo by Alexandra Valenti.)

Music of Melancholy and Uselessness

Autumn de Wilde via caffiene-headache.net

The Decemberists, for all the flack they catch, have been one of my favorite bands for quite some time. They are good whimsical listening for those fantastically inclined. I was delighted when their new album, The King is Dead, was announced, and am delighted still after having listened to it. It is much more folky and contains significantly less maritime themes. They're still there, but the band seems to have gotten over their experimental phase of their last album and calmed down to good, solid indie-folk. It's a good listen; I highly recommend it. I might even venture to say it's their best album yet.

On a temporal note, break has been almost completely unproductive. I suppose that is the point...

Boxing Day.

A late Joyeux Noël to you all.

Richmond's Main Street Station, via trainnet.org

For the first time in seventeen years, we welcomed a white Christmas to the lovely, normally snow-deprived RVa area. So happy white Christmas, Richmonders (and most of the Mid-Atlantic, Midwest, and New England area dwellers as well).

via obsoleteblog

My perfect snow/winter music: For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver. A good winter, indeed. Either that, or the rest of the Dark Was the Night album. I know I sing its praises quite frequently, but there's a reason for that.

Stadia III, via Virginia Museum of Fine Arts

To continue with this entry's rather disorganized thought process, I thought I'd highlight the work of one of my favorite artists, Julie Mehretu. She is an Ethiopian artist living and working in New York, but she divided her time between the Big Apple and Berlin to complete her collection to be shown at the Guggenheim. The above painting, however, is being shown at none other than Richmond's own VMFA, and therefore is near and dear to  my heart.

Thus ends my post. More constructive posts to follow, I promise.

Jack.

Via Collider

James Franco...
We all loved him in Spiderman. The sheer joy of seeing yet another comic book of the past brought to life made the viewer forget how talentless most of the actors were. This includes Franco. Riding the coattails of his surly, undeniably good looks, it seems he never learned to act. Nor did he learn to be very much. When glancing over some sketchy internet biography of his, one will find that he is, apparently, an actor, painter, and author. And now a PhD candidate at Yale University?

Apparently, the venerable university, which boasts one of the best English departments in the country, appears to be a little starry-eyed. Upon reading Franco's short story in Esquire, I feel that he is nothing more than a postmodern gimmick. On top of that, what I could find of his art (shown in 2006 in NYC) was awful. Beheaded mannequins amid piles of junk and kindergarten-esque scribblings are apparently supposed to represent teenage male sexual awakening. I can't see it. His bildungsroman is a mystery and a flop to me.

So here's to James Franco, jack of all trades, but the master of none. Keep trying.

I guess I'm one to talk.

In love.

Via www.cs.st-andrews.ac.uk

Today, I fell in love with...
The University of St. Andrews.
The Tallest Man on Earth.
Vince Guaraldi.
Completed finals.

Joyeux Noël!