Friday, December 03, 2004
Another gaddam talented USC film student, eh? All right, send the poor sap in. Oh, Mr. Darge. Let's have a look. Well. Oh, my. Ha, ha HA! I like that! Wait... Oh. Oh, my. Hmm. What's that? Lovely. Lovely shot there, Mr. Darge. Aha, I see! Delightful.
Thanks to Blake for posting this little treasure packet. This little ziploc refreezable color-coded packet full of treasures.
I just (finally) saw Network. The first botched attempt included a tired and indignant ex-girlfriend and a cold kitchen on the Cape. But this time, this time it had my full, undivided and wide-eyed attention. If you haven't seen it, see it. If you have, see it again. It needs reminding, the pulsing core of the human condition does. And the film does not miss a thing. It is timeless. (Even some of the nightclub scenes' fashions are being reenacted in Williamsburg this very minute.) It is prescient. It has everything you need to know about the way of the world today and tomorrow. Even the dated current events are again current: today I read in the Village Voice about the slew of new films seeking lessons from the 1970s resistance movements; Network centers, in part, around a domestic terrorist group, the Ecumenical Liberation Army, inspired by the rag-tag group of leftists who up and snatched Patricia Hearst.
Howard Beal rants and raves about the Saudis and how they are buying up America; he talks about how television is illusion, that the viewers are the real people but they've forgotten and now think tv is what's real; he warns against corporate greed and the easy misuse of the medium of television -- the single greatest tool in the history of humanity -- as propaganda; a maleable prophet, he resigns to, and preaches acceptance of, the corporate dehuminization of the globe and the new world order of transnationals that will come to rule it. He says it all. It's all in there. Forget everything else. Watch Network: Taste it again, for the first time.
PS. And while you're on the Voice page, read this article on the situation Ukraine. It's more than you think.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
But I can't even read anything about the President or the war or the terrorists or the insurgents or the dollar or the environment or civil liberties or gay marriage or Christian fundamentalism or Muslim fundamentalism or cabinet resignations or the Supreme Court or the vote in Ohio or Harry Reid or the Democrats or the Republicans or current events or the news or anything. For a bit. I feel full and nauseous and my eyes don't focus and my mind is scrambled when I try to read about. The world. At large. Right now.
Ah, to have a stroll across cool sand, in fresh linens, with a tangy Gin and a setting moon.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Do you know Joanna Newsom? I'm smitten. First by her music, then by her elven looks.
Joanna. Newsom. If you are Joanna Newsom I want to make you pewter medallions and whale bone pendant necklaces and a lilac scarf and holy boots and a handkerchief of ancient flax. I'll have to learn to craft all those things, but rest assured I am a fast apprentice and a deft hand. I'll brush downy feathers from your cheek and look at the curve of you in moonlight. We could sail. We could watch matches burn out. We could-- Oh. It... aches.
Joanna. You strange and lovely thing.
I mean, really! Who cares?!
A suicide car bomber plowed into policemen waiting to collect their salaries at a police station west of Ramadi Monday, killing 12 people in the latest insurgent attack on Iraq's beleaguered security forces.
At least 10 people were wounded in the blast, and 90 percent of the casualties were policemen, said Nazar al-Hiti, a doctor in the town of Hit around 125 miles west of Baghdad, where the dead and wounded were taken.
In Baghdad, a roadside bomb exploded as a U.S. patrol went past, killing two American soldiers and wounding three. Thirteen U.S. soldiers and two foreign civilians were also wounded in a mortar attack south of Baghdad. At least 968 U.S. troops have been killed in action in Iraq and 9,000 have been wounded, most of them seriously.
INSURgents. They insurging. What the hell does that mean? It means they're terrorists! Can't they see we bring them freedom?! Who cares what happens to them? It's all just propaganda! Can't they see we are the beacon of hope?! All these biased images we're subjected to, and for what?! I mean, put youself in their place: tanks on Main St. Your uncle shot dead in a mosque, praying. A niece's arm blown off by a precision bombing?! Your aunt raped?! Your uncle huniliated?! It's bigger than them! This is about freedom! And the
Let us pray for the two Americans killed. They deserve it. Our prayers, I mean; not the violent end met by a people fighting for "their" land -- as if they would know what to do wth all that oil! They're fighting bravely (The Americans, I mean. Not the native Iraqis who find themselves under another European magistrate). Unlike those greedy, selfish, Allah-loving insurgent terrorists, these brave Americans ahould be commendated! As Mel Gibson once said: "Freeeeeeeedom!" No matter who gets it!
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Snarky parents who believe in silly liberal fantasies like evolution are striking back. With fake stickers.
For those of us who refuse to believe that this could evolve from this, there is hope. School districts across the country are demanding that their children not be exposed to such scientifically-proven heresy. With stickers. You might think that something like evolution ought to be taught in religion class. But not us. We think it should be taught right up along with covalent bonds and sexual ed. I mean, with covalent bonds and volcanos. And for that, we ought to be proud. Now if those damn science-loving liberals would put their silly stickers away, we could get down to some business.
The Internet is an amazng place to run free and behold such sights and to learn and to taste from the electronic global buffet. This had me wide-eyed, and I'm glad there are people making things like this for We Who Are Underemployerd to try out four and five times. I do only wish there were more porn on the web; but until then, you'll have to settle for interactive psychadelic quilts.
Because he knew no one would cash a check signed by Picasso. Or that's the story. Look, the point is, now you, too, can draw like Picasso And here's mine, In the Rue Morgue. Christ, I need a job. It's only been, like, three days.
I just found this little blog that reviews (and links to) sories from online literary publications. Purty handy.