Delivering an entertaining movie with a message is a tough proposition for a filmmaker. Time spent on the thematic content often comes at the expense of story, hobbles the narrative, and gives the film a preachy tone. Waver on the theme by focusing exclusively on action, and the movie rings hollow. And then there’s the minimum dosage of eye candy theatergoers such expect on a big screen. Light it up or blow it up, but I want fire and blood, damn it. So talented is a director who strikes a tight balance between story, theme and pyrotechnics.

Largely, V for Vendetta succeeds. The film is a compelling story about a corrupt government who wrongs a man and woman in such a way that the audience roots for them; the theme is easy to swallow: government answers to the people, not the reverse; lots of buildings explode. Diggety.

There are slow points. V, the hero, has a vocabulary and manner of speech that rivals an English professor cloistered in an Ivory tower. The chemistry between Natalie Portman and V is almost unsettling, because one never sees V’s eyes.

Overall, an enjoyable ride.

Verdict: Matinee or DVD purchase.

Some men test their physical limits, setting aside comfort and safety for their dreams. Others loiter
their way to fame.

Can’t wait to see the movie based a man trolling Wallymart aisles for 41 hours, avoiding eye contact and shunning conversation. How does it end? He leaves the store, like every other customer.

Much credit to Skyler Bartels. In resisting the urge to leave a store, he landed a literary agent. Not only that, the agent came to him.

Perhaps I could barricade myself in Target, hide behind window treatments, and subsist on carmel flavored marshmellows. I might even write a few paragraphs inside the changing room. Ah, but who would feed Buddhapuss?

With the second top down review completed, I feel that the manuscript is ready for Team Eagle-Eye and can benefit from their surgical prowess. After implementing comments from seven people, plus two exhaustive read-throughs, the manuscript is about 2,600 words — 8 pages — lighter on a net basis than in November. Consequently, the word count meter at right reflects the current length. The cuts were positive, enhancing both narrative flow and continuity. To my knowledge, only one loose end remains untied, the cliffhanger ending, which serves a specific purpose. Unless the world ends, that plot point remains open in perpetuity.

Team Eagle-Eye might call for a bit more or less material in a few spots, and could convince me of either case. But something tells me their primary concern will center on matters of grammar, dropped words, and comma usage, with an occassional textural suggestion.

Monday I print out three copies for their review. At that point, I invest a little time on the synopsis and query letter, and pick up one of two open projects: a thirty page novel candidate, or Joey Vinny.

Going forward, I’ll focus on more general interest entries. I feel like cracking jokes again.

Kayla asked for more recent pictures of Buddhapuss, so here they are:

On the cat recovery front, Buddhapuss has been following the special crystal reducing diet to the last instruction. After he finishes the cycle, it’s diet time.

Well, the spring holiday was nice, but Monday it’s back to the Monkey House.

Random thought: Around the time I met the Wife, I played bass. My cohorts — The End of One — insisted on an all original set list, and with no demo tape, or money, gigs meant the coffee house circuit, or the neighbors back porch. Good times. Recently, I reovered a few pages of lyrics. A fellow “hipster” scrawled this wonder.

I’ve wrestled with demons
I’ve wrestled with ghosts
I’ve wrestled with spirits
of days I loved the most

Where will the new sky find me?
Stepping gladly.
Where, oh where will the new sky find me?
Stepping gladly.

Dear Lord, if only you had broken his fingers. And made me deaf.

Bad: A piece of equipment breaks, yet by all outward signs is operational.
Ugly: The gear failure causes 10,000 bucks worth of sensitive equipment to restart randomly.
The plus: No one heard me scream in the server room.

So close on my final pass before Team Eagle-Eye. So close…

When your cat is bigger than a super sized Thanksgiving turkey and moves about as frequently, one expects the occasional chide about the cat’s weight. Usually, I laugh and say, yes Buddhapuss is big boned. This year is different.

Due to his advanced age, weight, low activity levels — the walk between the bed and the supper bowl is short, and his alteration ( momma calls that “fixed” ), he is a ticking time bomb for a major backup due to crystal formations. A ticking time bomb. Jesus, that sounds bad.

Well, that warning scared me straight. No more sushi pizza for Buddhapuss. From now until May he gets only a special food that regulates his pH levels and dissolves crystals. After we stabilize the overtaxed bladder, it’s on to Operation Less Buddhpauss.

Can cats do Stairmaster? Hmm…