Driskill thrill

I spent my last night in Austin at The Driskill, a very swanky, very Texas, five-star hotel. Where else could you recline in a comfy chair in a dark corner, with a croissant and a coffee, put your feet up...and then be approached by someone who asks, seriously, "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" (Yes, plenty, but I require a price list first.) I had a bedroom and sitting room, both with large-screen television and high ceilings, plus a front-facing balcony that was private and larger than the entire indoor space. I have a weakness for expensive hotels, but I've never before had a suite with a DOORBELL. The Driskill, by the way, is famously haunted by several spirits, including a four-year-old girl (see portrait above) who died in 1840 when she was playing ball and fell down the lobby's grand stairacase. On two occasions during my stay, there was a distinct knocking at the door. When I answered, there was no one there. Maybe the spooking comes with the other amenities? I was delighted to get a bit of haunting in, of course, but I think the kid could have reached the doorbell, which would have been much more fun.

Batty for Austin

Austin's SoHo is SoCo, for "South Congress" Avenue, downwind of downtown. The retro-heavy shopping was a disappointment save for one very cool store. The owners of Uncommon Objects describe their large space as "your eccentric uncle's attic." It's essentially a junk/antique store, but every item is so carefully chosen and artfully arranged, it seems more like an art installation, and a darn provocative one at that. They let me take a picture of their boot corner only. Otherwise, SoCo shopping was a bust for this yankee. One more display of Frida Kahlo objects would have sent me flying to a good dollar store. Who needs a Frida Kahlo butter knife? Enough with the Kahlo. Are she and that masked wrestler the only Mexicans worthy of such iconic treatment?

On other front, we took in a great exhibit at The Blanton, a nifty art museum on the campus of the University of Texas. Birth of the Cool: California Art, Design and Culture at Midcentury (organized by the Orange County Museum of Art) looks at the origins and appeal of "1950's west coast style through art, music, film, furniture, and more." Who knew the Eames brothers made experimental short films and animation in addition to all those nifty chairs? We also enjoyed two artists on exhibit at the Austin Art Museum, which is tiny (a gallery by NYC standards), and caught a midnight screening of Student Nurses, a 1970's exploitation flick, at the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema. But more than anything, we went batty for the bat cruise, which took us under the Congress Avenue Bridge for a novel view of North America's largest bat colony as it took flight at sunset.

Watch the video. It's rather like a Tim Burton animation made flesh.

Coyote Ugly cute

In Austin, I drank Yaegermeister shots. I never heard of it before, but I was informed by the barkeep that it was "like licorice cough medicine with a lot of codiene." I like licorice, so I had two or three, then sauntered on over to Sixth Street, which was the closest I've come to the Mardi Gras experience outside of New Orleans, and ON A WEDNESDAY NIGHT. Stepping over the small puddles of vomit, I made my way to Coyote Ugly to meet those famous party gals. They really are a blast and very sweet, provided that you keep tipping, generously and continually. But a 10-spot got me some great photos. These gals would be great fodder for a Hollywood movie...but somebody already did that, and I heard that it sucked so severely that I never bothered seeing it. When I asked if the Austin Ugly was the real Coyote Ugly of movie fame, they told me it wasn't. The original, they informed me, is in...Manhattan. Needless to say, I'd never waste my time at Coyote Ugly...in Manhattan.

Meet Miss Amerikill

Yes, I did. I went to my first roller derby in Austin. Staying the first few nights at the Hilton Downtown, I awoke each morning to a flashing LCD sign on the Austin Convention Center just across the street. The Hellcats versus The Cherry Bombs, and only $15 a pop. Guess what? It actually is a sport. They offer a program with the rules of the game and everything. It's was a blast, though I only hung around until after the intermission, during which I mingled with the chain-smoking roller queens. My favorite: Miss Amerikill, who is my new number two butt-kicking heroine, right after Sigourney Weaver in all things Alien. I think I should join forces with this cheeky blonde to pitch a 1970's-flavored sitcom: Amerikill and Mike. Sort of like Laverne and Shirley, but with cigarettes and wheels. It couldn't possible turn out any worse than Gary Unmarried.

Portland's Nines

Rooms at The Nines are spacious, decorated in a light blue and white with faux crystal-covered lighting, and the location is ideal, an easy stroll to the Pearl and Old Town districts and, in particular, the famous Powell's Books, an ideal place to get lost for a couple of hours, just make sure to get the map before you delve into the stacks. The lobby of The Nines is like a lost floor in MoMA, complete with sheer pink and blue drapes, modern portraiture, a pair of surreal, oversized high heels encased in glass, and several naked mannequins (they have more attitude than the staff) that reminded us of the 8mm black-and-white shorts we made in freshman filmmaking. We also had a late-night dinner and drinks at Departure, the new restaurant-lounge at the top of The Nines. Aptly named, entering Departure is like boarding a luxury plane to nowhere. Friendly and sleek, with a fabulous view of the city at night, the cuisine is neo-Asian-funky fusion and the dink menu distinctive, to say the least. Our damage: The "Tasho Macho," a blend of Thai chili ginger vodka, muddled Thai basil, lemon, lime and cock 'n' bull (whatever the hell that is). I'm fairly sure I had three of those, so the walk back to the room is a blur. Even the front desk staff add the the sleek vibe with their impeccable posture. The Nines recently made the Condé Nast Traveler Annual “Hot List,” but we enjoyed it anyway.

Up a Tree: Vertical Horizons

I booked this hotel because it was the closest overnight option for Oregon Caves National Park, and spelunking requires an early start. When I read about this joint, it seemed that they had three styles of tree houses. Turns out, they only have three tree houses total, each unique in design (with toilet, sink and heat) and set out pretty much on their own on a huge piece of property. To get there, we drove to the middle of nowhere, then down a dirt road, then down a gravel path, keeping our eyes peeled for a lone figure in the hills, waving a lantern like some horseless Paul Revere. It was fabulous, sort of like a hippie B&B, complete with a lovely breakfast. Check out the video of our "view" above. In the dark, it seemed that our nearest neighbor was on Pluto.

...the Magic's in the Hole

...and we filled our pink box with the popular Bacon Maple Stick, a light donut covered with maple glaze and topped with two strips of crisp bacon. The sensation was like getting the perfect forkful of a diner pancake breakfast. Tasty as that was, out favorite was the Voodoo Blood Doll, which included a pretzel stick voodoo pin stuck into a doll-shaped donut and a bright red raspberry filling that literally gushed when we took a bit. If this ain't fun, I don't know what is. Expect to go into sugar shock.

Portland's Voodoo Doughnuts...

During our recent visit to Portland (is there another city in the country with this much strong design?), we trekked from our hotel, the trendy but friendly Nines, to Old Town where a hole in the wall called Voodoo Doughnut is located. There was a line...out the door...so we strolled a block away to the Portland, where we picked an outdoorsy black jacket from the window of the Portland Clothing Store. Then we went back to Voodoo and, with a shorter line, waited to make out selections, which come in a pretty fabulous pink box...

Zombie Finger Puppets

We picked up these beauties for a buck each at a off-kilter toy shop in Coos Bay, Oregon. The store had a bit of an edge (for Coos Bay) and obviously a buyer who's as zombie-mad as we. Speaking of zombies...anyone read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, a novel in which author Seth Grahame-Smith infuses Jane Austen's romantic classic with "ultraviolent zombie mayhem"? The book's now in our Amazon cart...stay tuned.

Viva Anna Biller

Fetish cinema, anyone? We finally caught up with Viva, a uncanny replication of the Radley Metzger soft-core pornography of the late sixties and early seventies. The flick is written and directed by Los Angeles-based performance artist Anna Biller (right), who also stars and designed the amazingly accurate sets and costumes. This gal must have spent every non-shoot day combing thrift shops. We're not sure what the intent is of these kind of appropriately low-budget, B-movie reconstructions (Lost Skeleton of Cadavra, anyone?), but we marvel at the drive and eye for detail of these wacky filmmakers.

Gloria Vanderbilt: Sculptress?

Went to Grounds for Sculpture recently (I want to live there), and we stumbled upon this new installation in a wooded area of the grounds. It's a plexiglass cube inside which kewpie dolls of various sizes cavort with plastic wrap, chiffon, some vaguely mechnical objects, and lots of other crap. The artiste behind this self-consciously bizarre window dressing? Gloria Vanderbilt. We strongly suggest you stick to jeans and Botoz, Glo. The average Barney's window display is a lot more creative than this.

Eat my shorts

At last, available for convenient online viewing. Significant Romance in Compressed Time is a short film based on a short theater work, and my first cinematic endeavor (if you don't count Looking for Roger Corman, which despite a fabulous title never saw the light of day and taught me that a 50/50 collaboration won't work, period).

Mickey on the mat

Is Mickey Rourke that good in The Wrestler? Almost. But the real standout is Darren Aronofsky's direction. This guy has been one of our best filmmakers since 1998, when he came out of Sundance with his ultra-cheap, ultra-complex, migraine-inducingly brilliant Pi. With The Wrestler, he's again taken lemons and made lemonade, building a custom-made tower that Rourke has managed to crawl atop, despite the spandex and pain killers. Looked to me like Aronofsky shot and edited to accomodate Rourke's performance, like any good director should, but can Rourke beat Sean Penn for the Oscar gold? Penn's recent SAG win looks to be making this a tougher match than originally anticipated...

Is Meryl Jersey's biggest loser?

So what's up with that Kate Winslet Oscar nom for The Reader? Looks like Hollywood was as disappointed in Revolutionary Road as we were. Popular opinion has it that this is Winslet's year, but she's still young(ish) and she's got it all, it just seems like she's been around forever. And are they really going to give her the gold for The Reader (which is now being marketed as "a thriller")? Or are the stars aligning to finally give Meryl Streep a third statuette for her riveting work in Doubt, in which she channels later period Bette Davis, with a flawless Brooklyn Irish accent to boot. Sure, Meryl's been nominated more than anyone in history, but (as she's pointed out herself) that also means that she's lost more than anyone in history. Jersey's Sarah Bernhardt recently won the SAG award, so this is shaping up to be a real horse race. As long as a split vote doesn't throw it Anne Hathaway's wide-smiled way, I'll be satisfied.

Amy Stein's Domesticated

Surfing the other night, I stumbled upon Oregon-based photographer Amy Stein's work, particularly her recent collection, Domesticated. Her work here looks like a series of stills from a David Lynch-directed adaptation of Into the Wild...or maybe Annie Lebowitz meets Norman Bates. Stein combines suburban landscapes, neat composition, and (honestly) taxidermy. Her photos are sharp, cinematic, and they look they might actually bite. Check her out.

The new 3-D

Digital 3-D accompanies the otherwise lame remake of the 1981 slasher pic My Bloody Valentine. Amazing that they remade it. It's sort of like warming up a fast-food burger that's been in the back of the freezer for a couple of decades. We're happy to report that the new 3-D ("Real D") is a major jump forward, thanks in large part to the sufficiently sturdy Ray Ban-like shades that you get with every ticket (see left). But is there a Hollywood director out there who knows how to use the new technology artistically? Calling Tim Burton...

"I Should Be So Lucky"

Classic French & Saunders here. Every time I watch this, I laugh. Every time. It's a bit long by today's ADD standards, but stick with it. Big rewards.

If every wall is a door...

...then isn't it a good idea that we all know how to use a few power tools? I've been (re)organizing my parent's long-neglected basement and found that my father has nine (yes, 9) power saws...and that's not including the table saws. These saws range in size from a petite, mouse-sized gadget (for cutting small moldings?) to slasher-movie two-hander. Having been raised not to touch such things, I still look at them, decades later, sure that even plugging them in would mean losing a finger or two. Shall I give it a try...or do I leave those walls as is? Vote to the right.