As could be expected from Terrence Malick, Badlands is a gorgeous picture. There are images you'd like to take off the screen and frame as photographs: peacock feathers in a girl's bedroom consumed by fire; a car kicking up dust under telephone lines in the plains; the sun setting in the clouds outside an airplane…

Like so many great period films, American Graffiti, Bonnie & Clyde, and, more recently, Zodiac, the styling and production never seems forced or over the top. Despite being shot in 1973, everything looks and feels like the late 1950s.

It's a modern masterpiece and my respect for it grows every time I see it. Martin Sheen's trigger-happy psychopath, Kit Carruthers, and Holly, Sissy Spacek's tiny teenage fatalist, come alive on the screen with a rare authenticity for any film, particularly a crime spree drama. Unlike amplified violence in more conventional films, the crazed moments of brutality feel eerily natural and impactive.

The scope of the shots feel vast and untamable but the score, including Carl Orff's Gassenhauer (which my contemporaries will recall from True Romance) adds an opposing sense of intimacy. It's at once a story of larger ideas: reckless freedom, the allure of crime, the celebrity of violence; and the intimate story of two lost people who found each other and tipped over into madness.

The film is loosely based on the real life crime spree of Charlie Starkweather and Caril Anne Fugate (and the song Nebraska from this week's album was inspired by the movie), though the details differ. In fact, the real Starkweather was even more brutal than the character depicted, his methods were more savage, his provocations to kill even less justified and he not only murdered his sweetheart's dad, but her mother and two year old sister too.

I'm a lyrics girl, I grab on to the lamentations of people like Leonard Cohen and Bruce Springsteen and swoon and sigh over their grief. With Whispering Pines, however, I have barely even touched on what Richard Manuel is singing about, his voice itself is so full of sadness and beauty. Tragically, that sadness may have gone deeper than his voice as he committed suicide in 1985 at age 40.

Manuel wrote the song on an old piano with one key out of tune and took inspiration from nature for the melody. It was fellow Band member Robbie Robertson who helped Manuel with the lyrics when he was having difficulty writing them.

He said in an 1985 interview, “It's especially hard for me to pick lyrics to songs, lyrical songs, because I can't just get on a na, na, na, na song, you know. I have to have some kind of lyrical content … I've got a lot of songs, but no lyric”. And, now that I've read the lyrics, I can say they are lovely enough to match his beautiful voice.

You can listen to it if you click on the 'hear' button in the header.

My adoration for the show Classic Albums, which I recommended not too long ago, has only increased with each viewing. Recently, the in-depth look at The Band and their fiercely individualistic style and music piqued my interest. Taking notes from the history of America to write their songs, which were recorded democratically, The Band didn't look to their contemporaries too much for inspiration and ended up sounding, and even looking, so wholly different and intriguing that the music world was captivated by these strange, very handsome men who once performed with Bob Dylan.

They were solely interested in the music rather than the fame (they even appeared on the cover of Rolling Stone with their backs to the camera), but the public wanted more and more of them. They rarely made appearances, which gave the times they did perform an air of being momentous and special. Their mysterious reputation was only furthered by the time singer/guitarist Robbie Robertson had to enlist the aid of a physic healer in order to perform.

Now take a look at Elliot Landy's iconic portraits of the band in the Catskills. I would go so far as to say they were the best dressed rock stars period, with their impeccable mix of rugged mountain manliness and old fashioned gentlemen fanciness. They look shockingly contemporary and oh! I just can't stop gushing about how totally cool these guys were. Of course, they made my list as hunks because, clearly, they were all devastatingly handsome too.

There are about a million reasons to worship Ellen Burstyn. Her inimitable turn as the foul-mouthed mom in one of my favorite movies Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore; her loathsome small time mother in The Last Picture Show; and, of course ,as single mother Chris McNeal in The Exorcist.

It's this character of Burstyn's that I am personally trying to channel this winter season. All smart colors, knit hats, turtlenecks and dignity. Rich but modest, I want to look like the kind of woman of which?people would say “She's been through so much: the divorce, the devil daughter and, god bless her, she still manages to look stunning”.

Some days I love fancy martinis and omakase dinners but more often I can't wait to get home, grab some Subway, and partake in a cup of Cap'n Crunch Berries cereal for dessert. And only Crunch Berries–regular Cap'n Crunch will not do! It's yummy without milk (though there are claims that it is so crunchy it can rip up the roof of your mouth without milk – I disagree) and comes in bizarrely inane boxes.

Currently the captain and a couple grotesque kids he picked up are playing frenemies with a pirate named Jean LaFoote, who has turned the berries into (ostensibly) the shapes of crossbones, severed feet, and anchors (they really just look like mutant walruses) while trying to steal the Captain's treasure (aka cereal) from the SS Guppy.

The Cap'n first discovered the crunch berries on Crunchberry Island (not to be confused with his home town of Crunch Island) where the Crunch Berry Beast guards bushes of Crunch Berries, that whether through coercionor flattery, the Cap'n can now deliver them to our cereal bowls.

There is EXTENSIVE information on all the Cap'n's adventures here including that time he had to fight off the advances of Magnolia Bulkhead, and a history of the Soggy Wars. And it's written as though he really exists.

I finally joined the neighborhood YMCA. I had sworn I'd never be a gym girl, exercising in public never sounded like my thing, and I gave all sorts of logical reasons for not doing it. But the Y is so close, affordable ($76 for Jim and I together a month) and they are waiving the entrance fee until February 4th.

So, some paper work and one mug shot looking ID photo later I am a card carrying gym member. The Kick and Punch class, currently held on Saturdays at 10 – 11am is the first class I've taken and I am so grateful that my co-worker and friend Meghan took it with me. Having a partner not only makes it more fun, but it made me actually get out and do it.

The class is fairly intense. “Oh, so this is how people loose weight,” I thought to myself when it was all over and even my ponytail was drenched in sweat. The instructor is friendly and the environment is really easy going, not intimidating in the least. If you want to join us next time, just let me know.

Bailey Arboretum is located very near the Planting Fields Arboretum, along the Gold Coast of Long Island. I love Planting Fields, and it was even the first place I ever recommended on Brix Picks, but the much smaller and simpler Bailey is equally nice and more intimate.

We went on a cold Sunday afternoon. No one was there, the ground was dusted with snow. It was very peaceful and magical the way all foresty, naturey places are compared to the grit of the big city.

The grounds consist of wide paths cut through tall trees and all the trails loop around, which is great if you're ever afraid of getting lost. Two frozen lakes sit at the beginning of the park which must be lovely in the summertime, they run off into incredibly clear creeks. There are also several large trees bearing the markings of inconsiderate but in-love people from the past.

It made me think of what a spectacular on Midsummer's Night Dreamy kind of wedding one could have here. The entire atmosphere was so private (despite looming local private mansions in the background) that it felt like a very special spot that no one else in the world knew about.

I don't think a children's show today would be made with so much talky exposition and genuinely dark creepiness. If you recall, Children of the Stones was part of the Nickelodeon show The Third Eye, which I was obsessed with as a child. Now I'm obsessed with finding all the elements (it was a hodge podge of various British and New Zealand shows re-aired together as The Third Eye). This is the only one available on DVD though.

Like all things sentimental, I was concerned with how well it would hold up. I'm glad to say it was stranger than I remembered, though perhaps a little slow by today's standards.

The story takes place in Milbury, but was shot at the real neolithic site of Avebury, Wiltshire. The site, consisting of circles of large, strangely shaped stones has unknown origins. Since I had never heard of the site, and the stones in the show seemed almost unnatural, often looking like faces were carved in them, I thought it was all a set created for the show. I was very wrong. The stones are very real and I for one am intrigued.

Writers Jeremy Burnham and Trevor Ray must have been intrigued as well when they structured this strange tale of mind control, paganism, and time bubbles.

A young boy named Matthew and his father move to town to find all the smiling, happy people are zombie-like and the only people they can trust are other new comers and a mumbling Welsh drunk who becomes Matthew's ally. The reason behind all the madness is admittedly complex, but it makes for pretty riveting TV. You can rarely guess what will happen next.

Here you can watch the series introduction.

My longtime struggle with lamb has been well chronicled in these picks (which must be extremely riveting for you readers, I'm sure). But now I'm finally and truly a lamb lover and this is one spectacular recipe for a rib chop.

The chickpea salad is also very tasty. Chickpeas, which are insanely popular in India, also once came to the aid for WWI Germans, who used them as a desperate attempt to substitute coffee. The beverage was called chikamuddle (though wikipedia is the only source of this information, so, you know, grain of salt). Either way, chickpeas are high in protein and grow on fern looking leafy plants.