Category: cinema

Categories
cinema love personal

Home again and aching

My skin feels red,
slightly boiled from the inside;
joints ache like ungreased pistons.
My head’s a thousand miles away.
pauvre petite tête

It’s good to be home again again again,
though my thoughts echo and words stick,
like a taste on the palette that won’t let go.
Words like independence, like fortitude
and awareness, understanding and compassion.

I’ve an admission to make: I never cried.
Not with you watching, not alone when I said,
“I need to walk.”, neither before when I knew,
nor after when it was irrevocable.
My heart had been burdened by months of despair,
in the knowledge that this was the last time
we’d go through this; irreconcilable,
this time the outcome would be different.
We dragged it out well; both fighters, I guess.
At some point during those months, my heart
broke quietly, hidden in a corner, my stomach
convulsed and I curled up, shivering with the knowledge
that the universe was indifferent.

But I never cried, and if I seemed
to leave without a fight, it was because
how can I fight for something I can’t even cry over losing?

It’s neither here nor there,
perhaps a little of both.
Something I have to figure out before I move on?
Too many questions, like a magnet in my brain,
always pointing due wherever.

–

I watched Dogville last night with my mom.
It wasn’t what I was expecting, but begs the question:
how much can we forgive someone for acting out of fear?

No matter how cruel the town was to her,
the only time she cried was when they destroyed
the image she had of the goodness of the town;
seven, small porcelain figurines.

Categories
cinema personal

Call me Vin [one day]

Swing-dancing four days a week now, which is just crazy. But I’m enjoying it (for the most part) so no complaints. Some of the better swing dancers in Oly and I have begun to work on a swing routine to be performed this Christmas season sometime. It’s involves a flip, and a lot of catching and weight-supporting on falls. Just watching the video (because they did it previously with two couple; this time we’ll have 4-5) made my back ache. So, time to hit the mats, so to speak, and work it out. I’d like to start doing some yoga (because I could use the flexibility too), but mostly need to work on upper body strength and back support (abs). So I’ll probably just do some basic weight training. If anyone has any suggestions, feel free … I’m sadly incompetent when it comes to fitness.

Skipped poetry last night (much as the week before) to hang with Alexis. We got some ice cream (mmmmmmm) and went to my place, watched the end of The Punisher (the new one) with Theo and Tim (and it sucked), and then watched some Fishing with John, which is a fun show where John Lurie goes fishing with different folks in different places, such as with Tom Waits in Jamaica (which is what we watched), or with Jim Jarmusch somewhere on the US coast. Then we watched the premiere of Drawn Together, which I must admit I had high hopes for, but which was ultimately disappointing. So much potential … and yet it ends up so base. What a tragedy.

Full moon tonight. Awesome eclipse last night, which I hope everyone got to see. Somehow, the sky in Oly was generously clear; today it resembles, as per usual, a gray blanket. I watched as the last sliver of light was shadowed over, and the moon looked like a wax-paper cutout, hung up in the sky, dark but visible. There’ve been plenty of eclipses in my life, but somehow, this is the first I’ve actually watched. It’s crazy to think about celestial motion, the sizes of planets; that our shadow blotted out the moon for an hour as we came between it and the sun. Some part of that shadow was my shadow (not literally, sure), transposed over pale moonrock.

To celebrate the full moon: pinochle and yellow tail.
Tomorrow: a random drive to Portland to drop off friends.
Saturday: work all day, then Jason Webley in Seattle.
Halloween: not sure, maybe I’ll watch scary movies and eat junk food all day. That sounds fun.

Then November arrives, and I start writing.
And something more cohesive than I’ve been able
to form here, recently. Oh, the horror.

Categories
cinema personal

La Casa Comics

For anyone who pays close attention to my blog –
I don’t think anyone does, really –
you may have noticed the new link under the
“An Absolute Must” heading, that looks like it says
(because it does) La Casa Comics. Any of the truly intrepid
may have visited this mysterious site and noticed it looks
like crap. Well, that’s because my notepad skills suck,
thus far, but I’m looking to improve them dramatically
over time, so stay tuned. La Casa Comics
(ed. note: now located at http://lacasacomics.com)
is the website of myself and my two roommates, Theo and Tim.
Theo and I have been doing a comic collaboratively called La Casa (of all things),
chronicling the adventures of three twenty-something guys,
dealing with ravenous monkeys and the
17 laws of attraction (17 and 1/2, really). Theo also does
his own thing with these two cop-guys and aliens,
and Tim is working on a monkey-conspiracy story, so it
should be pretty entertaining once we get it all out there.
So like, check it out, and stuff.

–

Speaking of synchronicity, it turns out that a young woman
I used to work with at Ruby’s (an Oly restaurant), went to
France with the same program I did (only 2 years later), and
stayed with the same family that I did in Betton (near Rennes)!
And, contrary to the fact that I thought they might have disliked me,
they remembered me and showed her the pictures I had left and
everything. Talk about crazy. So, it was fun to compare our two
experiences with this family and Rennes in general; and France in
more general. It seems like once a week I get together with
french-y people (like myself) and talk about experiences and
adventures in France. Bear in mind that I went to France over
four years ago, and only for three months. In that sense,
it seems kind of silly that it’s a constant conversation topic
amongst my peers. A lot of value has happened in my life
since then, but somehow it seems like France is always going
to take the cake. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I’m not trying to be a downer, though. I do enjoy these
conversations; very much so. But I can’t help but wonder
at what point, if any, a three-month trip to a completely
civilized country loses its significance;
or will this always and forever be the pinacle of my experience?

–

Swing dancing tonight, and I’m dragging Theo along with me.
I told him that even if he didn’t dance, he could practice drawing
motion. It sounded clever and enticing to me, but I think he’s just
coming along to dance. I’m betting he gets asked to dance more than
me, but that’s absolutely and totally fine. Dancing is great, but
dancing with strangers is a little less great, and they’re all
strangers. I remember how much more fun it is to have a constant
dance partner, to learn and to practice with, and in the end to
feel comfortable with, most importantly. With strangers, it’s hard
to tell if they’re enjoying themselves, and it’s hard to tell if
they’re judging you or not.
It’s fun, but it can play havoc with the ego and the psyche.

Watching Man on the Train last night, Jean Rochefort has a line
as he’s playing the piano, to the effect of:
Everyone always thinks that one must enjoy playing music.
They say, “Oh, the happy hours he must spend in front of the piano.”
Well, playing music can be a dead bore too, let me tell you.
And then he goes on to say how boring Schumann is, but how he
likes Schumann for appealing to his love of failure. The point,
however, is people could easily say the exact same thing about
dancing; and I would have the exact same response.
Sometimes, dancing can be a complete bore, too.

On a huge tangent, Hollywood is making American, big star versions
of what I consider to be very watchable foreign films:
Taxi is becoming Taxi and Shall We Dance? is becoming
Shall We Dance? Why must we remake these films
instead of watching the originals? With Taxi, at least it looks like they
changed the film in a few ways (though they kept the ending to the
letter), but with Shall We Dance?; the scripts are
completely identical! Perhaps on the opening night of each of
these films, I’ll boycott, stay home, and watch the originals.
You’re all welcome to join me; bring some popcorn.

Categories
cinema dance personal

Ain’t Misbehavin’

Okay, maybe misbehavin’ just a tiny bit,
in my own, silly and sentimental ways.
It was a long weekend, my friends;
a new pinacle of absurd decadence.

Friday night, Theo’s brother Colin was up
from California, and as he was heading out
Saturday morning, he wanted to make the most
of his visit and “party like a rock-star”(tm).
We hung out in our garage space for awhile,
playing darts and beer-pong
(the strangest & most pointless drinking game in all creation),
and then they all wanted to hit the bars.
I wasn’t going to go, really;
but then Colin forced me to (literally, physically!).
Anyway, we went to the Brotherhood, played some pool,
and then down to Jake’s to watch people dance.
(Jake’s is the gay club in town, where the Go Club used to be).

Theo stayed on with Rob ’til the wee hours;
I stumbled home alone at around 1:30 and slept
like an inebriated baby.

–

Saturday was our Cowboy Bebop marathon,
and a thing of beauty it was.
We started at about 1:00 in the pm,
and finished around 1:00 in the am.
We got through the whole thing,
including the movie which we watched in
sequence with the series (in between discs 5 and 6).
Not incredibly tired at the time,
I stayed up watching Smalleville all night,
through the next day, until Sunday at around 11 pm.
I watched the entire second season in a day,
which was absolutely ridiculous. I highly recommend it.
As my brain started to shut down, I started to confuse
Smalleville with Cowboy Bebop, to the point that the action
at times looked animated; and I thought people were flying
around in their space ships shooting at each other.
It was a little bizarre. Then I slept like a
giant-overloaded-brain baby.

Monday I woke up late and recuperated;
and thank God for a three-day weekend.

–

Tuesday was my first full day of work (9-5),
doing data entry at the Advancement Office.
The work is fine (read: mind-numbing but easy),
but would be a lot better if I understood the point.
Basically, we are taking the info from the old records,
which were in MS Access, and checking it against the new
records, which are in PowerCampus. Since most of the
info in the PowerCampus records is more current than the
MS Access info, in the case of a discrepency we usually
go with the PowerCampus info anyway, but flag the discrepency
for someone else to look at. Granted, we do change and fix
some data; but they’re paying out a whole lot of money
to get this done, which I don’t entirely understand.
Under no circumstances am I complaining;
it’s an easy paycheck.

–

Tuesday night I went swing-dancing at the Olympia Eagle’s Ballroom.
I saw fewer people I knew than I had hoped I might (2),
but I knew the DJ, and as soon as I walked in she came over
to say “hi” and then introduced me to all the best dancers
in the place. There was some amazing dancing there,
and rusty as I am, I felt self-conscious and inadequate.
However, I still had a ball (small pun).
There’s no better way to meet people than to dance with them,
and I danced my little feet off (quite a feat! haha).
I had forgotten how much I missed dancing,
and I’m tickled that there’s still a scene here in town.

Tonight is the Open Mike / Poetry Reading at Last Word Books.
I’m planning on reading The Embarrassing Episode of Little Miss Muffet,
by Guy Wetmore Carryl. Sometimes I think I’m the only one who’s ever
heard of the poem; but it’s a great poem to read aloud.
I’ve no idea what I might read of mine. Perhaps I’ll write
something new for the occassion. Maybe something dance-related;
last night was an inspiring muse.

Swing like a hu-man,
can-can, rat-ta-tam-tam,
douse my cakes in the frim-fram.
Feet flail like spaghetti,
fast like Andretti,
sweat like the serengeti
as I rock the beat steady.

Categories
cinema

Spider-Man 2

The movie Spider-Man 2 is a giant, steaming pile of horse-shit.
I want my $3 back. I mean:

1. How many god-damned shots of Peter Parker looking pensive do we need to get the picture, “Yeah, he’s struggling with being a hero and being a person … AND?” Seriously, I don’t think a solid half-hour of the screentime needs to be devoted solely to Tobey Maguire’s friggin’ face. He’s not even that good looking.

2. Spider-Man is set apart from other superheroes really by one thing. He has a knack, really an incredible talent, for witty repartee in the heat of combat. No matter what the situation, he’s got something funny and completely asinine to say, and I like that about him. So, how many witty remarks does he make in this movie? None, zilch, zip, zero — I swear he doesn’t say a damn thing while he’s fighting, except to yell “Aunt May!” and “I’ll save you.” What crap.

3. The entire premise for the character struggle: Peter Parker can’t succesfully be both a good nephew, college student, employee and Spider-Man all at the same time, is shown ineffectively. We get one solid example, when he misses MJ’s play the first time — but that says nothing about his employment or studies. Sure, yeah, being Spider-Man is taking up all his time, but you could at least take a second to show us how.

4. Docter Octopus is not some nice guy scientist who things go wrong for and who goes a little crazy when he and his arms start to disagree on things. He’s a bad guy. Bad guys should have one thing going for them: they should be unlikable. Not some pansy, misunderstood man just trying to do right in his own, whacked-out way. Evil, malicious, cunning, and nasty! I’m tired of them feeling like villains need to be crazy or misunderstood. There are genuinely mean and evil people out there, who are just plain, well … mean! Why the smoke screen?

5. Which leads me to the movie’s whole rated-G-ness. Not a drop of blood (Peter gets a scratch or two, a couple bruises), not a single swear word. In a word, nothing that would so much as upset a 5-year-old. Spider-Man’s biggest fans are in their teens and twenties anymore, we don’t need this pampered bullshit. I’m not looking for an x-rated blood and gore-fest either, but a little blood can really help the realism; a well-placed swaer-word can help character believability. Spider-Man in fucking Candyland, I swear.

6. Pacing. That was the most horribly paced action/adventure type movie I have ever seen. Also, the CG sucked by today’s standards. Mostly just with the broad, web-swinging shots.

I’m a big, big fan of Spider-Man. I have been since like 1990. As such, I simply cannot condone this movie. Therefore, I will be making my own sequel, in it:

Spider-Man won’t be a whiny, pensive little wimp. And he’ll have his witty repartee back. Also, there will be ABSOLUTELY none of this: self-doubt equals Spider-Man loses his powers crap. That was the most ridiculous, sophomoric philoso-hero psyche side-story I hope I ever have to sit through.

Doc Ock will be an evil genious. None of this misunderstood, insane crap. He’s a bad, bad man.

Harry will go mad and discover the Green Goblin suit at the beginning of the movie, thus giving Spider-Man two villains to deal with. There will be more interplay between Harry and MJ and Peter, because it’s an interesting love triangle.

Cameo appearances by other Marvel superheroes. Nothing big, just show the audience that these people all exist in the same universe, and open up some doors for future movies.

That’s all for now. I plan on suing Sam Raimi personally for pain and suffering. It’s too bad, I kinda like the guy, but he should have known better.

One last note: Bruce Campbell is still awesome.

Categories
book cinema music

Sisyphus seeks employment…

… skills: pushing boulders up mountains; having boulders fall down mountains; pushing boulders up mountains, again – cursed by gods to do this for eternity. References: Albert Camus – Camus says, “We must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

On the big speakers: Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Reading: The Tale of Despereaux; Kate DiCamillo

I meant to say this awhile ago,
but I forgot, so I’ll say it now.
Anyone who has not yet watched,
“FAHRENHEIT 9/11″ –
GO WATCH IT NOW!
Go ahead, I’ll wait.
Seriously. Whether or not you agree
with Michael Moore,
this film deserves to be seen.

Anyone who stops by here more often that occasionally may have noticed that I’ve included links and such on the sidebar. I’m also thinking about a complete template overhaul in the near future. Too much black at the moment. Anyway, if anyone knows of any particularly fantastic links/webcomics/blogs I should know about, please do tell.

Categories
book cinema music personal

No such word as “cipitate”

Today, the sky precipitates cipitation.
It’s as if a mist hasn’t exactly fallen,
but risen from the ground up –
invisible and damp and thick.
My lungs feel like sponges,
tarred and viscid;
my heart beats double-time to keep up.

We have, tentatively, a house in Olympia.
A nice 4-bedroom westside mansion,
except much, much smaller than a mansion,
and it needs some yard-work.
Still, can’t beat the rent.

On the big speakers: Joss Stone
Reading: Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World;
Haruki Murakami

Last night I cleaned some,
made some phone calls,
and watched Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

Things to do in Olympia when I’m dead:
Swing-Dance: no idea how active the swing scene is now.
French: tutor, speak, translate, read – rediscover.
Madden: kick some butt.
Write: I’ve got some good ideas brewing.
Laser-tag: ’cause Evergreen is the best damned battleground.
Poetry: there should still be an open mike or two around.
Guitar: actual, real lessons, so I don’t play like an ass.
Aikido: if I can swing it, financially.

The hypotenuse of an hypothesis is
the shortest distance between two ideas.
Or the longest.
I just felt like saying that.

Categories
cinema work

Dieu est grand, je suis tout petit …

… was a cute movie, but I don’t think I got much out of it.
Other than the fact that Audrey Tautou is awesome, of course.
But I already knew that. On a few levels,
the movie actually aggravated me.
Arguments are trifling; beliefs are vapid;
love is nothing more than a heavy make-out session.
Audrey’s awesome, but if I ever dated her character
in this movie, I would strangle her. Swear to Dieu.

Today is a Sunday.
Day’s off are long, plodding beasts.
I almost miss work, as it makes time pass.
Tomorrow marks two weeks until I leave.
Excitement and trepidation;
a burden and a lightening around my heart.
Lightning around my heart – but I don’t know
what that means anymore.

Categories
book cinema personal

Trippin’ the energy electric

Winds blowing strong, and I hear thunder in the distance. We get a lot of false warnings here, thunderclaps in the background and blows past us, miles away. I hope it blows directly over my head. I could use a good thunderstorm.

I finished watching the first season of “24″ last night. Absolutely amazing series; but, as all things that run for so long and then end, the ending itself was a let-down. It reminds me of the anime series “Berserk”, where none of the main characters die at any point during the show, so you expect them to live through it all, and then BAM! – everyone, EVERYONE! dies in the last two episodes. “Cowboy Bebop” kills off Spike in the last episode; and “Neon Genesis: Evangelion” – hoo boy, I don’t even want to talk about that ending (though I guess there is a new ending I haven’t seen yet). Having invested so much time in these series, a crappy ending really is a huge let-down. Also, in the case of “24″, too many of the characters started to annoy me. I began to guess who the traitors were, what the plot-twists would be, etc; and I was always right. Very annoying. There is a lot of character action, but not as much character growth as I like to see when I’ve invested so much time into them. I will make allowances that most shows span days, weeks, and months; while “24″ only spans one day – even so. RAR.

I got an email from my most excellent friend, Daniel. He is back in the States, which is excellent; and I get to see him in August, at the latest, which is most excellent indeed. It’s been too long, and too much seperation from my friends – I’d like to just start some commune somewheres where we can all just live on the land and hang. Realistically, though, I really do think it’s good that we’ve all had our own adventures, far away though they might have taken us. We have each grown, learned; and remained friends, which is the most important. Even so, I ache to see them all again.

I’ve been reading the book, “Eats, Shoots & Leaves”. So I’m now mildly obsessed with punctuation, though I still have no clue whether or not I am semicoloning correctly. The one way I really grasp it thus far is that it is useful to prevent confusion in lists, by setting groups off from each other. For instance, a phrase: “The school had to choose between the colors: red, white and gold; orange, blue and grey; or magenta and cyan.” Very useful in this sense. I know there are other ways to use it, and I’m experimenting haphazardly; if you are a true and real punctuation stickler, please offer your advice. As Lynne Truss mentions, the biggest danger of the semicolon is its addictiveness. Like a drug; I need to get my fix, but I don’t want to abuse it.

Categories
cinema personal poetic

Prolificity

No frost today, but a wet layer of snow – sticky, cold, more like a mixture of ice and water than actual snow. We are now less than a week away from March, and then only a month away from April, and then only a year away from me, 25 and counting. The nearby community college has begun to offer the MLS (Masters in Library Science). At two nights a week, they say you can get your MLS in two years. Not bad … something to consider.

Emily is still abroad in a foreign land they call “Nevada”. My dad’s mom lives in “Nevada”. I might say my grandmother, but considering the fact that I haven’t communicated with her in about four years, I think she may have disowned me. Which may all be for the best. I’m not sure, really.

Last night was a fest of new, bad movies. Charlies Angels: Full Throttle and Radio. When I say bad movies, what I really mean to say is completely mediocre. I can deal with a bad movie, it’s mediocrity that’s painful. It really makes me want to make a movie, and god knows I have the ideas in my brain … I simply have to conquer my hatred of egoism. This blog may be a good start towards that. I haven’t decided yet, especially since, having put a hits counter at the bottom the other night, I can now see that no one actually reads this. Oh well, I’ll just tell myself it’s the best things that no-one has ever read.

Now, a vocab quiz.

Prolificity: a word meant to enrage artists who believe in quality over quantity.
Usage: “Prolificity? Fuck off.”
See also Prolifi-city: a populated area near L.A. known for producing 99 brain-numbing lumps of slag metal for every brick of gold.

Categories
cinema game personal

Buridan’s Ass

No apologies for my absence. I have no excuses. Health feels fragile today, like a toy top spinning — we all fall down.

I watched Dummy today. Adrian Brody before “The Pianist”, and well worth the watch. One of the better movies I’ve seen – lately, ever – good movie, anyway. Emily leaves for Vegas on Sunday for a few days. The sister’s (2nd) wedding. I wonder what a wedding is like, what a 2nd wedding is like. How much can the bride be blushing when it’s all been done before? But no, maybe that’s mean and insensitive, and illogical. That’s like saying how much fun can a relationship be if it’s your second one, no matter that it’s to someone different.

A return to Everquest, but a casual return. In the last week, I’ve played twice. I feel strangely ambivelent to EQ itself. I enjoy spending that time with Emily, sharing an activity — as I enjoy any activity we spend together / share. Still, EQ IS fun. So is Prince of Persia, so is Hoyle Majestic Chess, and so is reading and writing.

I am Buridan’s ass. Status quo, miasma, feet locked in an iron cast — not struggling. I’m Rimbaud’s companion “down below”. I have not taken the road less traveled. Somehow, I think I am a villain. I have no evil laugh, nor curled mustache, nor black sedan with tinted windows. I haven’t got evil intentions. If I had, I would not be a villain. No, my villany comes from a fullness of goodness, unacted upon. My coffers full of charity, I stand by and watched the world starve, consuming depravity like a chimera’s feast. Worse, I criticize, mock, or stand off to the side with an air of careful detachment. That last may be the worst.

Buridan’s ass starves to death. Perfectly good food within sight, within reach, no bars between, nor chasm. No device keeps the ass from its feast except rational thought, the bane of all good dreamers.

No, I am not Buridan’s ass.
But sometimes I catch a glimpse of the beast’s death.
Sometimes I understand it.