Let's see, I'm going to take the boys to see that "...Dragons" movie tomorrow, I think. They should enjoy that. I'd also like to research netbooks -- I think that might be just what I need to solve my current tech issues with my writing "in the field." (i.e., no fucking laptop) Not that I haven't enjoyed writing longhand -- I actually do like writing in notebooks, but in terms of output, I type so much faster than I write by hand, it's a matter of efficiency, here. I've been working steadily on the book, although I'm uncertain of the word count because it's handwritten -- I'll transcribe my week's work onto the computer at home, another weekend enterprise.
Sunday, Exene should be taking the boys to a Cub Scouts outing, so I may actually shop for the netbook I was looking for, and catch "The Hurt Locker" (FINALLY).
Of course, my usual routine of exercise, cooking some yummy food, and taking photographs of everything that catches my eye will be in play.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Busin'ess
I was amused on the busride home yesterday. Well, a few things. On the first leg of my ride, I was at a bus stop with a bunch of international students from U of C, including a few Austrians -- it was funny to hear the accents as they were talking about navigating the transit system downtown: "You mekh sure you get zee tranzfer on zee first part of zee ride. Zat iss how vee do it in Austria, anyvay."
That group got on another bus, while I caught mine a moment later. There wasn't anything particularly amusing on the first bus. When I got off, I saw my connecting bus, and I ran to catch it, but the bus took off right before I got there, didn't stop. Love when they do that.
Piqued at being thwarted in classic CTA fashion, I ran two blocks north up the street to get ahead of the bus that had ditched me and caught it at the next stop. I was very satisfied to have done that, rather than waiting X minutes in the blustery cold for the next bus (it was frickin' cold yesterday, I should add, and terribly windy).
On my second bus, I was treated to an amusing exchange by a couple of Lincoln Park Trixies (well, once Trixie and her friend, who lived in the Gold Coast). Both of them had the kind of atonal raspy voice of casual smokers (sounding something like, I dunno, Margot Kidder), and Trixie was seriously bottle-blonded, overtanned, and had incredibly white teeth, while Gold Coast had overplucked eyebrows and a face that reminded me of a female Corey Feldman. Both of them were average-looking, but well-dressed (not particularly stylishly, but they clearly had good jobs, if no real style to them). Their conversation went on and on and on. I'll try to capture what I remembered about it (again, delivered in that seal-like bray)...
LP Trixie: So, I tried to get X to take me out again, but he totally didn't.
Gold Coast: No?
LPT: I sent him a note, and he didn't reply.
GC: Maybe he was busy.
LPT: I dunno.
GC: Wait, was this a text?
LPT: E-mail. I tried to get him to take me somewhere, but he totally ignored it.
GC: How long's it been?
LPT: Well, like almost two weeks since we first, you know, got together.
GC: (laughing) And you've gone out how many times?
LPT: Once at [XYZ], once at [ABC], and we hung out at his place. He mentioned [DEF] but I was like "Dude, isn't that a bar?" (scoffs)
GC: I don't know. Depends on the time you go.
LPT: It's totally a bar. I wanted to go someplace sit-down, a nice place. You know, like what normal people do, like boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. And so I jokingly e-mailed him and he didn't reply.
GC: Maybe he doesn't have any money?
LPT: Oh, he does. He threw down $150 at the bar last time.
GC: Hmmm, yeah, you throw that much down, you can definitely afford a dinner.
LPT: I know, right?
GC: Unless he just blew it all at the bar.
LPT: Maybe he just doesn't like to DO stuff; maybe he's just a 'hanging out' kinda guy. Like he called the other day and was like "I'm watching the OSU game with the guys; you wanna come hang out?" and I was like "No, thanks." And now, like nothing.
GC: Maybe you shouldn't have shot down his suggestion you go to [DEF.] (laughs)
LPT: Yeah, maybe. I'm trying not to overthink it. I mean, he really likes me, I can tell, but it's just weird, like why he doesn't, you know, want to do stuff with me. (keeps checking her iPhone during all of this)
GC: Well, we can catch "Crazyheart" Friday, after we go shopping. How about that?
LPT: Alright; I asked him if he wanted to see it, and he's like "Yeah" but then nothing happened. Am I supposed to set everything up or what? I don't know what his deal is.
GC: Maybe he's just quiet.
LPT: Sure, but, you know, he doesn't seem to want to know, like, anything ABOUT me. Like he doesn't ask me about my day, or anything. He likes me, I can tell, but, like, doesn't, like, TALK to me about ME, you know?
GC: My stop's coming up; don't overthink it. I'm sure you guys'll work something out. Like you said, you've known him for, what, almost two weeks? (laughs)
LPT: Yeah (laughs) Seeya later!
And then LPT continued to text on her iPhone obsessively until she got off at her stop (and then kept going, like texting and walking).
That group got on another bus, while I caught mine a moment later. There wasn't anything particularly amusing on the first bus. When I got off, I saw my connecting bus, and I ran to catch it, but the bus took off right before I got there, didn't stop. Love when they do that.
Piqued at being thwarted in classic CTA fashion, I ran two blocks north up the street to get ahead of the bus that had ditched me and caught it at the next stop. I was very satisfied to have done that, rather than waiting X minutes in the blustery cold for the next bus (it was frickin' cold yesterday, I should add, and terribly windy).
On my second bus, I was treated to an amusing exchange by a couple of Lincoln Park Trixies (well, once Trixie and her friend, who lived in the Gold Coast). Both of them had the kind of atonal raspy voice of casual smokers (sounding something like, I dunno, Margot Kidder), and Trixie was seriously bottle-blonded, overtanned, and had incredibly white teeth, while Gold Coast had overplucked eyebrows and a face that reminded me of a female Corey Feldman. Both of them were average-looking, but well-dressed (not particularly stylishly, but they clearly had good jobs, if no real style to them). Their conversation went on and on and on. I'll try to capture what I remembered about it (again, delivered in that seal-like bray)...
LP Trixie: So, I tried to get X to take me out again, but he totally didn't.
Gold Coast: No?
LPT: I sent him a note, and he didn't reply.
GC: Maybe he was busy.
LPT: I dunno.
GC: Wait, was this a text?
LPT: E-mail. I tried to get him to take me somewhere, but he totally ignored it.
GC: How long's it been?
LPT: Well, like almost two weeks since we first, you know, got together.
GC: (laughing) And you've gone out how many times?
LPT: Once at [XYZ], once at [ABC], and we hung out at his place. He mentioned [DEF] but I was like "Dude, isn't that a bar?" (scoffs)
GC: I don't know. Depends on the time you go.
LPT: It's totally a bar. I wanted to go someplace sit-down, a nice place. You know, like what normal people do, like boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. And so I jokingly e-mailed him and he didn't reply.
GC: Maybe he doesn't have any money?
LPT: Oh, he does. He threw down $150 at the bar last time.
GC: Hmmm, yeah, you throw that much down, you can definitely afford a dinner.
LPT: I know, right?
GC: Unless he just blew it all at the bar.
LPT: Maybe he just doesn't like to DO stuff; maybe he's just a 'hanging out' kinda guy. Like he called the other day and was like "I'm watching the OSU game with the guys; you wanna come hang out?" and I was like "No, thanks." And now, like nothing.
GC: Maybe you shouldn't have shot down his suggestion you go to [DEF.] (laughs)
LPT: Yeah, maybe. I'm trying not to overthink it. I mean, he really likes me, I can tell, but it's just weird, like why he doesn't, you know, want to do stuff with me. (keeps checking her iPhone during all of this)
GC: Well, we can catch "Crazyheart" Friday, after we go shopping. How about that?
LPT: Alright; I asked him if he wanted to see it, and he's like "Yeah" but then nothing happened. Am I supposed to set everything up or what? I don't know what his deal is.
GC: Maybe he's just quiet.
LPT: Sure, but, you know, he doesn't seem to want to know, like, anything ABOUT me. Like he doesn't ask me about my day, or anything. He likes me, I can tell, but, like, doesn't, like, TALK to me about ME, you know?
GC: My stop's coming up; don't overthink it. I'm sure you guys'll work something out. Like you said, you've known him for, what, almost two weeks? (laughs)
LPT: Yeah (laughs) Seeya later!
And then LPT continued to text on her iPhone obsessively until she got off at her stop (and then kept going, like texting and walking).
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Video: Pillar of Salt
I've had this song in my iTunes since August of 2006 (weird that it's been so long), and I always enjoyed the song. I didn't really like the other Thermals tunes, but this one was spot-on. Anyway, I'd never seen the video before, and just ran into it the other day...
Two things jumped out at me: 1) the frontman reminds me a bit of my teenaged self -- just a long-faced, lanky wackball, and 2) the bassist is CUTE. She's a little hottie. I never thought about what the band looked like, which just amuses me a little in retrospect. Now I kinda want to see their other videos, so I can gawk at their bassist some more. Kinda. The problem is that they use almost the exact same chords for a number of their songs, which is distracting and kinda odd.
Two things jumped out at me: 1) the frontman reminds me a bit of my teenaged self -- just a long-faced, lanky wackball, and 2) the bassist is CUTE. She's a little hottie. I never thought about what the band looked like, which just amuses me a little in retrospect. Now I kinda want to see their other videos, so I can gawk at their bassist some more. Kinda. The problem is that they use almost the exact same chords for a number of their songs, which is distracting and kinda odd.
Stirring the Pot
Okay, so this development calls to mind something I've talked about before (not here), where states' economic crises are going to supersede the "morality vote" (e.g., against drug legalization, gambling, and prostitution) -- and suddenly, the vice crimes are going to be increasingly seen as sources of revenue. The fundamentalists are all about keeping the futile Drug War going (newsflash: Prohibition STILL doesn't work), but states are cash-strapped, and are going to have to find some "magic" way of getting revenue, and that is going to decide the legalization issue -- and I think that's a good thing, to be honest. All that money that gets wasted fighting a losing war on drugs can be allocated elsewhere, and the money that comes from tax revenue on drugs will be usable for all sorts of things.
In 2001 (!), Portugal (I know, right? Source of great proverbs and apparently sane drug legalization policies) went with an across-the-board drug legalization policy and they've found (big fucking shock) clear drops in crime and improvements in public health -- treating drugs as a public health issue and taking it out of the police bailiwick, with incredible results.
I know American politics has a terrible case of the Stupids thanks to the reactionary wailers in our midst, but eventually, there will be a change down the road, if only because economic necessity drives states to be less censorious, and more open-minded.
In 2001 (!), Portugal (I know, right? Source of great proverbs and apparently sane drug legalization policies) went with an across-the-board drug legalization policy and they've found (big fucking shock) clear drops in crime and improvements in public health -- treating drugs as a public health issue and taking it out of the police bailiwick, with incredible results.
I know American politics has a terrible case of the Stupids thanks to the reactionary wailers in our midst, but eventually, there will be a change down the road, if only because economic necessity drives states to be less censorious, and more open-minded.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
St. Steve of McQueen
Seems fitting on what would've been his 80th birthday (today) to invoke another of my patron saints: Steve McQueen. In real life, he was a crazy motherfucker, drug-addled and astoundingly insecure, but his iconic cinematic naturalism was unparalleled in his day. Daniel Craig has masterfully mined McQueen for his own shot at superstardom, although he's just a pretender to the throne -- any time I watch Craig acting, I will point out wardrobe choices, looks, walks -- all sorts of things that he's taken from McQueen. Why not? McQueen's long dead, but his shadow hangs over everythign Daniel Craig tries to do.McQueen's crowning glory in movies was his "reactor" quality -- he was called the King of Cool and really still holds that title; there aren't really any actors out there who match his quiet ability to command a scene. The "reactor" nature he put forth was his responding to the acting of another -- so, Actor X would say something, and McQueen would react to it, very internal, very in himself, versus trying to act and drive a scene. It makes for many compelling performances.
He had the ability to take command of any scene he was a part of (and was terrible about upstaging his fellow actors -- watch him in his early movies, and you'll see him doing things, lots of "business" to draw the audience's eyes on him. "The Magnificent Seven" is full of moments like that, where he took a comparatively small part and made it big by doing that, clearly bugging Yul Brynner). McQueen's movies are very of their time, very 60s (most of them, during his apogee), but his performances endure above and beyond them. His all-American kind of antihero way about him, his straightforward, simple-yet-impeccable style, his feral naturalism, those were things I just took to.
I used to wear Baracuta jackets and Clark's Desert Boots in high school in private homage to McQueen, my own kind of lopsided Mod-Punk style (in my view, spot-welding the Jam to the Sex Pistols by way of McQueen -- trying to stand out by looking sharp in a very Classic Guy kind of way, not that anybody really noticed or appreciated it back then). My rule of thumb was that if it looked good on McQueen, it'd look good on me -- and that's held up over the years.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The White Donkey
Didn't I post a picture of the White Donkey's last day with me? Is that even possible? Here's it getting taken away by Victory Auto Wreckers. El Burro Blanco, on its last trip (this was last month). And, yes, it really was the coolest thing to come from Naperville.
Napervillainous
Rich Horton from Naperville didn't like my story...
I remember a coworker of mine (a native of the western suburbs) grousing about Naperville (because of Lysacek in the Vancouver Olympics) and saying how he is perfectly Napervillian (e.g., incredibly lame) and when I told her that I'd bought the White Donkey in Naperville, she said "The Donkey is the coolest thing to have ever come out of Naperville, believe me." Having been there, I can't exactly argue it. There's a whole lot of nothing out there.
Oooh, I'm so vindictive.
*holds hand out for a slap*
And "Aegis," by D.T. Neal, goes on rather too long in telling of a young artist's fascination with a much -- much! -- older sculptor named, significantly, Renee Euryale. It's obvious where this is going from the first, and the young artist -- nor a model he encounters -- just doesn't come to life.Whatever! Some people really dug it, and others really didn't. I think the ones who didn't like it are more genre-hounds, and miss the nuances of the story, but oh, well. All the more reason to get some more credits, so there's even more stuff of mine out there to offend their delicate sensibilities. I really need to work on that, get people even more peevish.
I remember a coworker of mine (a native of the western suburbs) grousing about Naperville (because of Lysacek in the Vancouver Olympics) and saying how he is perfectly Napervillian (e.g., incredibly lame) and when I told her that I'd bought the White Donkey in Naperville, she said "The Donkey is the coolest thing to have ever come out of Naperville, believe me." Having been there, I can't exactly argue it. There's a whole lot of nothing out there.
Oooh, I'm so vindictive.
*holds hand out for a slap*
Movie: The Thin Red Line (1998)
So, I watched "The Thin Red Line" again, after, what, 10 years? Got it on DVD. And, once again, I'm both struck by and off-put by the movie. It remains a 170-minute war movie-as-art film. It remains distinctive in many ways -- Terence Malick's marvelous use of silence, slow montage, tracking shots, scenery, color -- all of that. Very much in evidence, and very much using film as a storytelling medium in and of itself.
And yet, the battalion of cameos in it, like every goddamned male actor of that era in that movie...
So, that distracts me a bit (and Clooney's patriarchal little scene is particularly noisome, above and beyond Clooney even showing up in the movie at all), and I think Sean Penn's vastly overrated acting chops are particularly ill-used in the movie (First Sergeant? Says who? He doesn't look that part at all, just offers Method grimaces and his usual expressions throughout it).
The voiceovers, which comprise nearly all of the dialogue in the movie, are also overused, to the point that you can lampoon it pretty easily...
So, as ever, I'm of two minds with this movie -- on one hand, it manages a masterful visual style, an expansive kind of ebb and flow between action sequences, the humanity and brutality of war, the nuances of violence and victory -- and yet, it also feels incredibly self-indulgent and too full of itself (originally five hours, it was trimmed to 170 minutes -- and you feel every last fucking minute of it, believe me).
And, in the end, what's the moral lesson? What, that war is a terrible thing? No shit. No fucking shit. That Miranda Otto is hot? I dunno, I dunno. It's like with "Schindler's List" -- before that movie, I didn't realize that the Holocaust was a terrible thing (sarcasm, here).
And yet, the battalion of cameos in it, like every goddamned male actor of that era in that movie...
I mean, WTF? It gets distracting -- Oh! There's John Travolta! Hey, there's John Cusack. Oh, shit, there's George Clooney. WTF, is that Jared Leto? Huh, there's John C. Reilly. On and on and on (and on and on). Way, way too many cameos. And it's likely because of Malick's stature (including as a producer), these actors all wanting a piece of that action. Throw in the ones who didn't make the cut, and it's like every fucking actor of that era onscreen.In addition to the cast seen in the final cut of the film, Billy Bob Thornton, Martin Sheen, Gary Oldman, Bill Pullman, Lukas Haas, Viggo Mortensen and Mickey Rourke also performed, but their scenes were eventually cut.
- James Caviezel as Pvt. Witt
- Sean Penn as 1st Sgt. Welsh
- Adrien Brody as Cpl. Fife
- Ben Chaplin as Pvt. Bell
- George Clooney as Capt. Bosche
- John Cusack as Capt. Gaff
- Woody Harrelson as Sgt. Keck
- Elias Koteas as Capt. Staros
- Nick Nolte as Lt. Col. Tall
- John C. Reilly as Sgt. Storm
- John Travolta as Brig. Gen. Quintard
- Thomas Jane as Pvt. Ash
- Jared Leto as 2nd. Lt. Whyte
- Dash Mihok as Pfc. Doll
- Tim Blake Nelson as Pvt. Tills
- John Savage as Sgt. McCron
- Nick Stahl as Pfc. Beade
- Miranda Otto as Marty Bell
So, that distracts me a bit (and Clooney's patriarchal little scene is particularly noisome, above and beyond Clooney even showing up in the movie at all), and I think Sean Penn's vastly overrated acting chops are particularly ill-used in the movie (First Sergeant? Says who? He doesn't look that part at all, just offers Method grimaces and his usual expressions throughout it).
The voiceovers, which comprise nearly all of the dialogue in the movie, are also overused, to the point that you can lampoon it pretty easily...
Show scene of waves washing gently on the shore. A lizard scurries between some rocks. There's a coconut being tumbled by the waves.You run into it over, and over, and over, and over again, and it begins to call attention to itself, and it begins to irritate me. I remember being irritated by it before, and I find it irritates me again.
Till: What is life?
The waves keep tumbling the coconut.
Witt: Who made this ineffable dream?
CUT TO wind softly blowing through palm tree fronds, a slightly cloudy sky.
So, as ever, I'm of two minds with this movie -- on one hand, it manages a masterful visual style, an expansive kind of ebb and flow between action sequences, the humanity and brutality of war, the nuances of violence and victory -- and yet, it also feels incredibly self-indulgent and too full of itself (originally five hours, it was trimmed to 170 minutes -- and you feel every last fucking minute of it, believe me).
And, in the end, what's the moral lesson? What, that war is a terrible thing? No shit. No fucking shit. That Miranda Otto is hot? I dunno, I dunno. It's like with "Schindler's List" -- before that movie, I didn't realize that the Holocaust was a terrible thing (sarcasm, here).
Whyte: What is true? Who is true? How can we know what is what or who is what or what is when when we're here?
CUT TO a monkey climbing a tree. It pauses while eating a piece of fruit to look at something.
CUT TO a tank, broken, rusting, half-buried in the beach.
Witt: Where are you?
Thumbnails
One game I like to play (particularly on the FB), is to post an article with a willfully wrong thumbnail photo accompanying it. There's something about that which appeals to me -- it kind of takes basic information of the article and adds a little wrinkle to it.
For example, I posted this article, and cycled through the thumbnail options until I saw this picture, and thought "That's funny." Obviously, the art of conversation has fuck-all to do with shirtless Robert Mitchum wielding a Luger, but that's exactly the point of it. The incongruity of it makes me snicker. It's a little game I play -- I'll post and cycle through the thumbnail options until I find something that fits my perverse sense of humor.
For example, I posted this article, and cycled through the thumbnail options until I saw this picture, and thought "That's funny." Obviously, the art of conversation has fuck-all to do with shirtless Robert Mitchum wielding a Luger, but that's exactly the point of it. The incongruity of it makes me snicker. It's a little game I play -- I'll post and cycle through the thumbnail options until I find something that fits my perverse sense of humor.
Chili Fest?
This article makes me snicker. What can I say? A chili grenade would probably kill me (asthma and all), but I still find weaponized chili peppers funny.
Monday, March 22, 2010
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