Pinky_Powers's Xanga

And people believe me dead.

Sat, 12 Aug 2006 01:25:15 GMT

If you are lucky enough to catch this post early, you may indeed see firsthand the drawing I did for James Boomer even before he himself gets to.

This was commissioned for his birthday and it is quite late. It makes my sour heart giggle to think of all the eyes that will see this before I get to hand it to him. So join with me and bask in this perverse triumph achieved only through the wonder of the Net.

Sunday, December 25, 2005

Sun, 25 Dec 2005 04:52:32 GMT

Happy Hollidays from Pinky.

Here are some gifts I gave my family.

-~ÿ~-Pinky-~ÿ~-

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Tue, 29 Nov 2005 03:37:49 GMT

I could really go for some beer.

-~ÿ~-Pinky-~ÿ~-

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Wed, 23 Nov 2005 18:36:35 GMT

This might have made its way to some of you already, but as this is my Blog I am going to post it up anyway.

I drew this not too long ago, three guesses who it is.

-~ÿ~-Pinky-~ÿ~-

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Tue, 22 Nov 2005 20:27:48 GMT

A movie review... or something.

As the movie began the room fell silent and still, and as the subtle music filled the air the whole of us held our breath. Upon sight of that mysterious serpent of which only true fans knew the name, Nagini, my mind flooded with memories of the first time reading through the wondrous novel of which this film was based. Unfortunately the enchanted thralldom did not hold for it was not long in when my fond memories were met with a re-invention that did them no justice.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: the long awaited and greatly anticipated film version to what many Potter fans hold as their favorite of the J. K. Rowling series so far. I sadly admit disappointment with many things in the last movie, The Prisoner of Azkaban; things I felt could have easily been amended if only the screenwriter, Steven Kloves, spent a little more care and patients towards adding hundreds of pages of extra dialog and scenes so that all the aspects and reasons that I loved the Prisoner of Azkaban book would be present in the movie as well. So naturally my largest grudge with movie three had more to do with the usual let-downs found in film adaptations, such as beloved scenes and moments cut and lost from the screenplay, leaving the movie in a bare-bone format but ultimately functional for cinema.

Goblet of Fire, however, was a film possessing most, or many, of my most cherished moments and events, it was a film whose form I could understand and appreciate and whose content did the novel great justice. Atop this achievement Goblet was also endowed richly in visual triumph; effects, special and practical alike, that were created beautifully and looked flawless. So what then could my issues with it be? If its content held enough for a true fan, and all of its many effects left nothing but pleasure and excitement, where could it have failed?

It was in the delivery of the content, in the performed interactions between characters that left me irritated and sad. This is a fault I do not lay on the actors, I did not leave the theater feeling their performance was cold and poor, but rather that the pacing of the delivery was forced and rushed. In most of the film, in almost all of the dramatic and important scenes, including those that were my favorites from the book, I was bombarded with over-lapping dialog and sentences that had not finished when another character began his or her important line. This was Mike Newell’s fault; the director.

A decent example of where a little direction could have done a vast amount of good can be seen right after the Yule Ball, by the stair-case where Hermione and Ron have their big row and where Hermione tells Ron to ask her next time “and not as a last resort”. Understandably this scene would be hard on the young actors, a moment portraying many emotions and delivering a monumentally important line to the whole of the series. This is where a good director would direct, he would take as long as he needed and as many takes as it took until it no longer felt hurried and each line held the sort of weight that it needed.

Even if this were the only moment in the film that felt rushed and confused and the lines jumbled together I would still be of the opinion that Mike Newell is a rotten son of a bitch, if only for destroying such a memorable scene from the books. But that was not the only chapter of Goblet that was hurt by the film; almost the entire movie had that sort of chaotic, over-lapping and hard to fallow plot-delivery.

Another highly strange and poor direction the fourth Harry Potter movie took was in certain of the storie's most notable characters. Dumbledore in particular was quite different from the headmaster we see in the books. He was not the fatherly, protective character to Harry that he has to be in these tales. His loving and guarding relationship with Harry is of great importance to the overall plot of the series; but his film counter-part failed in nearly all his inherent qualities, and left him a Dumbledore relatively useless to the chapters to come.

As broken as this version of Albus Dumbledore was, the most bizarre and upsetting interpretation goes to Ralph Fiennes’ Voldemort, who was so far removed from that cold, calculating and horror-invoking figure from the graveyard that he might as well have been played by Count Dracula from Sesame Street. Other than Dumbledore and Voldemort, Bartie Crouch, also, was performed wrong. It is as simple as that… he was done very, very wrong.

Now I have read the books three times through, so admittedly I was not “lost”, per-say, by the movie. Anytime the dialog became muddied my memories from the novel always kept me fast on track. I am a thundering and enormous fan of the Harry Potter movies; I watch them all the time. So for me being able to vaguely follow the plot is far from my deepest reasoning for putting in one of the Potter DVDs and watching them. I love them for the dramatic moments, for the character interaction and growth and for the adult way these young witches and wizards handle these dark and deadly events. And if a director does not spend time caring for those moments in the film, moments that are in essence the very heart of the story, then what does that leave me?

-~ÿ~-Pinky-~ÿ~-

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Tue, 22 Nov 2005 19:07:32 GMT

Well, I am finishing up my Goblet of Fire review. I promise it will be the last Harry Potter thing I talk about for a while… unless of course something huge comes along, but I doubt it.

In the meantime, I give you this to think about.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Sun, 20 Nov 2005 20:48:41 GMT

On Friday, November the eighteenth, I, like so many hundreds of thousands across the states and abroad went to see the fourth Harry Potter film: The Goblet of Fire. I saw it first with my sisters and with us came along our parents, whom we had just that week introduced to the magical world and attempted with all our might to bring into the fold of the Potter fans. They enjoyed the films greatly but unfortunately their age and background may prove an immutable protection form full-on Harry Potter addiction. I on the other hand have fallen heavy to the lure of these brilliant books and stories. The following is of that tale.

A few weeks before the third Harry Potter movie, the Prisoner of Azkaban, opened fully to the public, I decided to re-watch the first two movies, which I found to my delight were owned on DVD by one of my sisters. I was not a very big fan by any means, the most I could say on the subject was that I enjoyed the movies and was impressed by them. But as I held the first DVD in my hands and beheld the cover art and back-cover write-up I slowly came to the surprise finding that I had actually never seen the first movie before, but instead only held vague memory and understanding of the adventure and deeds of the second, which I had seen only once over a year before. So I put in the first film, Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone and was immediately captivated and invigorated by my re-introduction to the world of Harry Potter and found only great intrigue and love for the back-story of the very young, magical hero.

After Sorcerers Stone ended I put in Chamber of Secrets, and by the time that was over I was embarrassed by how feeble my memories of my first viewing really were. That day was, I now hold, my first, real, Harry Potter experience; and I was taken whole.

The next day I could not help it, my mind was wrought with the magical world of Hogwarts and of witches and wizards, but mostly it was dwelling on this fascinating story of Harry and what might lie ahead for him. I got on the internet and obtained the trailer for the third film and I watched it through a couple of times only to perceive that it held no comfort for me; it was, after all, only a trailer. This then led to me re-watching the first two movies, which produced an unfading smile upon my face, a grin that came even at the most subtle of moments therein this cinematic experience.

Over the weekend I was able to speak with one of my sisters, the one who owned the DVDs I now held captive, and I reported to her the depths of my obsession and of my growing concern for the over-long wait I had till Prisoner of Azkaban hit theaters, which was all of two weeks. I spoke of how desperate I was to learn what came next for Harry and his friends and how the wait may very well be the end of me. In reply this younger sister of mine spoke an obvious and excruciatingly simple and common bit of advice which struck me like a revelation from the gods of old. She said to me “maybe you’d like to read the books then, we have two sets.” In my mind I thought I was already a Harry Potter fan; I was wrong.

With my deepened familiarity over the previous week with the first two chapters of the Potter series, I had little desire to read the book versions when the significantly larger and ever more mysterious “third novel” stood there before me twinkling and, I swear to God, winking at me.

From the very first sentence of Azkaban, “Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways.” I was hooked. In two days time I had not only fished it but had experienced possibly the best ending to any book I had ever read, an ending that left me with so much pure enjoyment and satisfaction that I found I was chuckling and smiling to myself for perhaps twenty minutes afterward. Naturally with an experience such as that, I, without a moment’s thought, cracked open Goblet of Fire and started in on Harry’s next colossal struggle, the Tri-Wizard Tournament. By the date on which Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban opened in theaters I had finished books three, four and five and, following backward, one and two.

A week and a half before the sixth book by J. K. Rowling hit shelves in book stores around the world I was reading through the series for my third time in preparation for the opening sale of The Half Blood Prince, for which I was in line at my local Borders at the twelve o’clock release party. I was highly disappointed there was no food or drink served, but having ownership of the shiny and new Potter novel made up for that with abundance and ease.

Now with the release of the cinematic adaptation of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire I find myself a deep veteran with perhaps too much thought and opinion for my own good. But being of the noble Harry fandom (hairy fandom. lol) I feel a great need to speak on the subject, and so I shall… a little later.

The Harry Potter novels have brought me fully into the world of which the films struck a first love, and amidst the tapestry of spell-craft and enchantment and of imaginative, mystical beauty, I find myself inspired to great heights and immensely pleased to be a fan of this extraordinary series.

-~ÿ~-Pinky-~ÿ~-

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Sun, 20 Nov 2005 19:07:37 GMT

In a little bit I will have a nice and long post about my damned Harry Potter obsession.

Stay Tuned.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

Sun, 06 Nov 2005 14:27:37 GMT

I have been messing around with Inks for a week or two, and this is my first finished work done with ink and White-Out.

Forgive the image size, but anything smaller and you seemed to loose things.

-~ÿ~-Pinky-~ÿ~-

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Thu, 03 Nov 2005 00:45:10 GMT

The following is a proper introduction into what may indeed be the essence of me… or at least that of the fucker in the looking glass.

The story behind my handle is one that is most close to my heart.

It all started about seven years ago…

In the Year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and ninety seven, I was just beginning to learn my way around the internet and was getting fairly good at it. The time had come for me to open my first e-mail account. It was something I had long known was coming, for my best friend had been pushing me on the matter for quite some time. So I chose Hotmail to hold my precious little secrets; it seemed to be a decent web based service and indeed it was.

I was trucking along, filling out all the required fields as though I had been doing it for years. Then it happened, I came across the “Desired User Name”. Blank and menacing, it caught me off guard, for I was unaware of what I wanted my first e-mail address to be. All I knew for sure was that it would end with @hotamil.com. As I stared at the screen, I quickly came to the conclusion that I did not want this to be a normal ‘first name and initial’ type account. I longed for an online personality, a handle which would contain not only my identity, but my very soul.

I thought to myself “Well, what do I like? What seems to fit me and my personality?” Just then, my mind recalled an episode of Warner Brother’s Pinky & the Brain, the bloody thing seemed to be operating on auto pilot at this time. A question lingered toward the back of my skull “How often does my brain work when I’m not using it? Is it always on auto pilot?” Once again, I quickly remember my task and realized that the character Pinky has a lot in common with me, and I do so love him. So I said to myself “Perhaps on auto pilot my mind is not as random as I thought it to be. It very well could be more pertinent than when I am given the rains.”

So trusting in the reliable instincts of my own brain, I chose Pinky as the first half of my address. I say first half because I knew without hesitation that the lone moniker of Pinky@hotmail.com was most likely taken. So I searched for a last name to what was quickly becoming a most elaborate handle, and oddly enough, the movie Austen Powers came to mind. I had never seen it, but I put the two together for laughs all the same. The most unexpected thing happened; I liked what I had created. Pinky Powers.

And so I have used it ever since for dozens of registrations and accounts all over this big wide web thing. Today most of my closest friends use Pinky as an interchangeable substitute for my birth name. And nothing could please me more, for it keeps my sometimes extravagant head at a reasonable diameter, and is a constant reminder that I should not take myself or life too seriously.

-~-ÿ-~-Pinky-~-ÿ-~-