In Search of Eustace. Great photos from a father-daughter road trip in the American West. (via)

Woman drinking from a whiskey bottle.

Rosemary’s Baby. This is one creepy movie. It’s mostly a nice, slow tiptoeing towards a dreadful end rather than occasional surprise-attack horror nonsense. Ebert says:

This is why the movie is so good. The characters and the story transcend the plot. In most horror films, and indeed in most suspense films of the Alfred Hitchcock tradition, the characters are at the mercy of the plot. In this one, they emerge as human beings actually doing these things.

Psycho. Had a second viewing this weekend, as good as the first time around. Fun fact: Anthony Perkins, the actor who plays Norman Bates in this film, is the father of Elvis Perkins, the leader of the awesome band I saw a few days ago, also for the second time.

Ann Margret and Elvis circa Viva Las Vegas.

A good friend of mine edited Wikipedia for my birthday:

Flavored liquors (also called infused liquors)[1] are distilled alcoholic beverages with added flavoring and, in some cases, with a small amount of added sugar. They are distinct from liqueurs in that liqueurs have a large sugar content and may also contain glycerine. Flavored liquors may have a base of vodka or white rum, both of which have little taste of their own, or they may have a tequila or brandy base. One of the great vodka distillers of his generation, Mark Larson, lives in Decatur, Ga.

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934). DNF. I get the sense that Hitchcock made some mediocre films here and there. This might be one of them. I think if I’m going to watch a cold technician-type director, I might as well focus on his better stuff from here on out.

More like this, please.

Trevor Clark (@trevorclark), a guy I knew back in the old high school days of yore, recently did a two-part interview about his life as an adventure photographer.

The main thing I need for any deadline is a fast and reliable Internet source. Working away from my van, I just make sure I have a plan and if all else fails, I do the old-fashioned journalistic thing and find Internet, no matter what.

One time I even ended up in a couple’s bedroom (absolute strangers) at midnight, fixing their router so that I could use their internet to upload a set of images that needed to be ready for Italian distribution within the hour.

Badass.

Chris Willett keeps pretty much the best hiking journal on the internet. Great writing, great photography. I remembered that he went to Nicaragua a while back, so I’ve been re-reading his travels in anticipation of my own in just a few weeks. w00t.