welcome to the carnival

2010-09-18T01:12:00.000-07:00

Another one of those great overlooked films...

2009-07-27T09:35:00.000-07:00

Don't do a double take if Jeff Nichols' Shotgun Stories puts you in mind of David Gordon Green. Green is a producer on the project, and DP Adam Stone helped to shoot three of Green's films. Writer-director Nichols is a serious talent in his own right, and though his slow-burning film isn't going to be to all tastes, it's a mature and authentic-feeling story of three brothers living hand-to-mouth in Southeast Arkansas. The crux of the story is a family feud between three brothers and their four half-brothers following the death of their mutual father. Nichols is to be credited for upending traditional revenge movie theatrics, instead applying understatement and, at times, dry humor to his sad story. Though the acting is all fine, audiences may take special notice of Michael Shannon, known for Bug and World Trade Center.

...and away we go...!

2009-05-15T10:08:00.000-07:00

Must check this film out when it comes out in theaters.

Hey, baby, don't you worry even though the road is rocky.
I'll be coming home to you again.
'Cause if you thought I was lost, I had to burn my cross.
Now, I'm free from all these chains.

with and without words

2009-04-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

The was setting and the girl saw the shadows of the tall buildings and the people that move with the setting of the and the rising of the moon. She looked up at the sky where the clouds and the horizon was turning purple with soft hues of yellow, pink, and orange. She sighed a breath of chilly autumn air and reached into her oversized coat pocket to retrieve a cigarette. She lit the end and sucked in as much smoke her lungs can take, then slowly blew it out, feeling the warm strain leave her chest. Somewhere in the distance, the girl heard lingering notes in the air. Before she could stop herself when she realized what she was doing. it was too late to turn back. She was walking towards the music. Sitting on the bench with his back against her, was a young male playing the guitar. His long and tangled brown hair blew in the wind as the song picked up in volume. It was a beautiful sight. Now the sun was slowly setting behind the trees, and as the light, soft hues of pink and purple were disappearing, radiant hues of red and orange gleamed on him. The girls' hands trembled as she dropped the cigarette to the ground. She leaned in closer as she was starting to hear his melancholy voice flow effortlessly with the soothing sound of the guitar. His voice, with a hint of raspiness, painted a story: an old train abandoned in the middle of the desert, with no one but the dust to keep it alive.

2009-03-01T01:35:00.000-08:00

With his smooth r&b/retro-soul sound, impeccable voice, and brilliant talent, John Legend is highly praised in my book.

But why is it that he's always sporting a boner?

I mean, I personally don't have a problem with it, but it was just a thought that came into my mind.

Long Time No Write...

2009-02-19T19:49:00.000-08:00

For the past several months, I've been preoccupied with school, work, a boy, and life in general...especially the boy :/ But come on, that's not a good enough excuse to do one of the things i like to do best: writing.

Here's the beginning of a cute, short story my friend, Misha and I started wrote:

Annie: Emily decided to spend her time going to the library and picking out her favorite novel.

Misha: Emily first saw Andre in the metaphysics/spirituality section of the library. Although Andre was seemingly normal she knew right away he'd be different than the other people she met since she moved to L.A.

Annie: People in L.A. were a unique breed of people and how she found out Andre's name is a funny story.

Misha: Emily saw that Andre was glancing over at her. Curiosity overtook her. She decided to approach him pretending that she thought she knew him.

so...

2008-10-21T23:17:00.000-07:00

So I spent the whole day - well, a good portion of the day - making some beaded bracelets for few friends for saturday. Saturday is the day of Monster Massive. Should be fun and crazy. I'll post up some pictures later.

It doesn't start here in this blog..

2008-09-17T22:43:00.000-07:00

Creativity at its best doesn't start here.

Give me anything to think about. Give me art. Give me writing. Give me science. Give me photos. Give me music. Give me the world. Give me life. Give me your problems, his problems, their problems.
You are not everything.

This is where it all starts

2008-09-02T21:11:00.000-07:00

This is your life by domojoanne

The day I woke up, this is exactly how I felt -- when you're born without wings, when your visions are being blocked by some invisible force, when the day comes for you to cease living, breathing, and contributing to this Earth...That day when you wake up, just the way I did...That is when the desire for you to escape and run will trigger the ghost you'll become.

till the end...

2008-08-24T03:00:00.000-07:00

I'll read until the end.

I'll write until the end.

I'll create until the end.

I'll wait until the end.

Usually...I'm not this asian but I am this random

2008-08-22T19:37:00.000-07:00

Got done watching this korean drama 풀하우스"Full House."

I don't know...

I loved it.

Thought I just had to get this out.

sometimes i just want to write...like everybody else

2008-08-19T22:50:00.000-07:00

dreambag

this girl, she looked up at the sky, sighed, and reaching into her oversized coat pocket for a cigarette. She lit the end and sucked in as much of the smoke her lungs can hold, and slowly blew it out, feeling the warm strain leave and loosen her chest. Somewhere in the distance, the girl heard lingering notes floating in the air. Before she realized what she was doing, it was too late to turn back. She was walking towards the music. There on the bench was a boy with his steady but slightly tense back against her, playing the guitar. His dirty, tangled hair blew in the wind, and it was a beautiful sight. The sun was starting to set behind the trees, and its red and orange lights gleamed on him. The girl's trembling hands dropped the cigarette to the ground. She heard his melancholy voice flow with the sound of the guitar and its notes hitting her ears. His voice - with a hint of depressed raspiness - painted a story. She felt her eyes close as she began to let him pour images into her head. An old train abandoned in the middle of the desert, with no one but the dust to keep it alive.

...And my day begins

2008-08-18T11:56:00.000-07:00

http://www.theselby.com/

Veronica sent me this cute site, and it really does make me want to settle in a home right about now..decorate it with things -- things that scream "this is annie!" but hm...what am I like, really?