3.29.2007
Museum Pix concluded
Sorry I lagged on getting the rest of these up. Writing is more constructive, no? Again, these are from the museum on Fisherman's Wharf which features an assortment of coin-operated electric machines. I plan on going back there while my friends are in town this weekend, so expect an update with the place's official (and currently forgotten) name. And is it just me or does the last one totally look like something out of that animated Yellow Submarine movie?
"ACT TRICE"
Hot off the presses, the first work of verse I've written since early January. Too early for me to interpret, but you're more than welcome to suggest, suppose, and infer:
***
ACT TRICE
Tired horses/disarmed forces:
thar she blows over
like last autumn’s leaf,
curled up with a djinn & tunic
reading western wishes
as eastern oaths,
smok’d a number
laid out like lumber
buzzed to the sounds
of moulding mandragora
and the smell of death
waved away,
“surrogate lost”;
this frame fine to hold the whole load
tho it’s not what her hand showed,
frail in fell weather’s wail
hurtin’ as the curtain closed
on a Come-and Perform-this
for hostage hecklers
(their coiled-up rattleshake bites
long in the tooth and lethal),
who lapped this leisurely,
jerked jewels from her naked neck
to expose the portrayal’s betrayal
the divine missed ‘em,
blood of lamb on front door jamb,
steadied by the portal she pours forth
then pours a fifth
where sequels immune to scansion
are quid pro quelled by myth.
***
ACT TRICE
Tired horses/disarmed forces:
thar she blows over
like last autumn’s leaf,
curled up with a djinn & tunic
reading western wishes
as eastern oaths,
smok’d a number
laid out like lumber
buzzed to the sounds
of moulding mandragora
and the smell of death
waved away,
“surrogate lost”;
this frame fine to hold the whole load
tho it’s not what her hand showed,
frail in fell weather’s wail
hurtin’ as the curtain closed
on a Come-and Perform-this
for hostage hecklers
(their coiled-up rattleshake bites
long in the tooth and lethal),
who lapped this leisurely,
jerked jewels from her naked neck
to expose the portrayal’s betrayal
the divine missed ‘em,
blood of lamb on front door jamb,
steadied by the portal she pours forth
then pours a fifth
where sequels immune to scansion
are quid pro quelled by myth.
3.27.2007
The Lives of Others (Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck)
I haven't had a chance to see many films in the theatre since I've come up to San Francisco; the first two I caught were both very good in their own ways, but this time I feel compelled to share my thoughts. The Lives of Others may sound familiar: it won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film in a bit of an upset against the very popular Pan's Labyrinth. Most people were shocked the night of the ceremony; Pan's had already scored several technical awards, including one it wasn't expected to--how could it have lost the big one? The quickest explanation wasn't hard to uncover: Academy members are allowed to cast a vote in any category unchecked, save for Foreign Language. You must prove you've seen all 5 films in order to vote in this category. Why this isn't done for all of them I'm not sure, but that's the way it is. Most of the voters that manage to see all 5 are on the older side, and tend to go with the more "normal" fare--your typical sentimental Oscar bait material. Pan's Labyrinth was a huge hit with the academy body at large, but perhaps was too much of a fantastic fable for the older demographic.
What I didn't know until this afternoon was that The Lives of Others, in addition to being closer to a typical winning entry, also happens to be a deeper and more powerful piece of work than its competitor, which was also among the best I saw last year. It's a look back into the not-too-distant past in the years right before the Berlin Wall came down and East Germany joined its democratic Western half. The secret police of the Socialist/Communist government spied ruthlessly on its citizens, suspecting anything a person might say, do, or even imply, and scrutinizing those who appeared to be doing anything less than toeing the party line. To put trust in anyone, even your closest associates or lovers, was a gamble. Phones were tapped, apartments bugged--in short, it wasn't a place for loose lips.
The story is centered on Wiesler, a stoic loyalist in the Stasi, or secret police, who is assigned to eavesdrop and monitor the goings-on of Dreyman, a well-known playwright, and his leading actress/ live-in girlfriend. Though the writer has friends in high places and appears to be sympathetic to the party, any artist is vulnerable to dissident elements, and a party member has designs on his woman. Therefore, he gets the surveillance treatment. Over the course of the investigation, Wiesler's seemingly-impenetrable armor cracks as he gets to know and eventually sympathize with the couple, who struggle to maintain their personal dignity and artistic integrity as the oppressive climate encroaches despite their best efforts to straddle the line between compliance and expression.
How this plays out is anything but conventional, and it manages to be both thrilling and genuniely moving, perfectly illuminating what was behind the curtain (no pun intended) of pre-Glasnost East Germany, but also how men and women of conscience anywhere handle themselves when they finally contend with truths they have been reluctant to acknowledge. Films rarely conclude in a truly satisfying way for me, as it's so difficult and arbitrary as to where one ends a work of art, so I'm happy to say this one's final moments were very powerful and I left the theatre in that fog that settles around your head when you've been exposed to something remarkable on the screen.
This one's well-worth the effort to seek it out, and should still be playing in most of the major cities.
What I didn't know until this afternoon was that The Lives of Others, in addition to being closer to a typical winning entry, also happens to be a deeper and more powerful piece of work than its competitor, which was also among the best I saw last year. It's a look back into the not-too-distant past in the years right before the Berlin Wall came down and East Germany joined its democratic Western half. The secret police of the Socialist/Communist government spied ruthlessly on its citizens, suspecting anything a person might say, do, or even imply, and scrutinizing those who appeared to be doing anything less than toeing the party line. To put trust in anyone, even your closest associates or lovers, was a gamble. Phones were tapped, apartments bugged--in short, it wasn't a place for loose lips.
The story is centered on Wiesler, a stoic loyalist in the Stasi, or secret police, who is assigned to eavesdrop and monitor the goings-on of Dreyman, a well-known playwright, and his leading actress/ live-in girlfriend. Though the writer has friends in high places and appears to be sympathetic to the party, any artist is vulnerable to dissident elements, and a party member has designs on his woman. Therefore, he gets the surveillance treatment. Over the course of the investigation, Wiesler's seemingly-impenetrable armor cracks as he gets to know and eventually sympathize with the couple, who struggle to maintain their personal dignity and artistic integrity as the oppressive climate encroaches despite their best efforts to straddle the line between compliance and expression.
How this plays out is anything but conventional, and it manages to be both thrilling and genuniely moving, perfectly illuminating what was behind the curtain (no pun intended) of pre-Glasnost East Germany, but also how men and women of conscience anywhere handle themselves when they finally contend with truths they have been reluctant to acknowledge. Films rarely conclude in a truly satisfying way for me, as it's so difficult and arbitrary as to where one ends a work of art, so I'm happy to say this one's final moments were very powerful and I left the theatre in that fog that settles around your head when you've been exposed to something remarkable on the screen.
This one's well-worth the effort to seek it out, and should still be playing in most of the major cities.
3.23.2007
Wherein I Discover The True Reason For Video iPods
I never saw the point of attempting to watch a movie on 2x2" screen; granted I'm a huge film buff, but first of all I can't imagine staring at a screen that small for 90+ minutes, and if you're watching anything with any kind of visual appeal how could you possibly receive the scope of the intent behind the images at that kind of downscale? And as television drama gets better and better, the less I want to watch a micronauts version of that media as well. So what's left besides the odd music video? Does anyone even watch music videos anymore?
Then yesterday I stumbled across something that's far from new, but is the exact kind of bite-size pleasurable nugget which was conceived for easy consumption over 50 years ago and plugs smoothly into this new format.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Tom & Jerry.
Or course, you could argue that any short-form cartoon fits the bill, but consider this: With T & J you don't have to worry about the volume or clarity of the audio (I mean, have you ever tried to listen to music on an airplane? You have to turn the fucking thing all the way up to even hear anything over the background noise); there's normally just some orchestral music (or jazzy, space-aged vibes during the later, Chuck Jones period) and sound effects, and rarely any dialogue (save for when the black maid yells at Tom in a cringe-worthy dialect that is so outdated and un-P.C. you're better off not being able to hear it).
The other thing is that there's never much of a plot that you have to worry about paying too much attention to. The cat is trying to catch the mouse, and in the process they beat the hell out of each other with various household (or backyard) items, the cat usually suffering the most. It's that simple. And it NEVER gets old. You'd think the 50th time you saw an ironing board fall down onto Tom's head, either flattening it into a pancake or leaving one of those lava-lamp-upward-drip-sized bumps, it would cease to be funny. But it still is.
So you dump the entire collection of 3-5 minute shorts into your iPod's video library, hit shuffle, and treat yourself to a random assortment of cartoon sado-masochism. It's a great way to pass little waves of time, and as you're shutting yourself out from the rest of the world in a digital bubble amidst the din of public transporation or the city streets, it's a great reminder to stay on your toes, because everyone's out to get you, and there might be a frying pan around the corner with
your name on it.
And speaking of T & J, here's a news story that's over a year old but I can't get over how fucked up these guys are. Maybe we do need to start another war:
[Religious fanatics make me cry.]
Then yesterday I stumbled across something that's far from new, but is the exact kind of bite-size pleasurable nugget which was conceived for easy consumption over 50 years ago and plugs smoothly into this new format.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Tom & Jerry.
Or course, you could argue that any short-form cartoon fits the bill, but consider this: With T & J you don't have to worry about the volume or clarity of the audio (I mean, have you ever tried to listen to music on an airplane? You have to turn the fucking thing all the way up to even hear anything over the background noise); there's normally just some orchestral music (or jazzy, space-aged vibes during the later, Chuck Jones period) and sound effects, and rarely any dialogue (save for when the black maid yells at Tom in a cringe-worthy dialect that is so outdated and un-P.C. you're better off not being able to hear it).
The other thing is that there's never much of a plot that you have to worry about paying too much attention to. The cat is trying to catch the mouse, and in the process they beat the hell out of each other with various household (or backyard) items, the cat usually suffering the most. It's that simple. And it NEVER gets old. You'd think the 50th time you saw an ironing board fall down onto Tom's head, either flattening it into a pancake or leaving one of those lava-lamp-upward-drip-sized bumps, it would cease to be funny. But it still is.
So you dump the entire collection of 3-5 minute shorts into your iPod's video library, hit shuffle, and treat yourself to a random assortment of cartoon sado-masochism. It's a great way to pass little waves of time, and as you're shutting yourself out from the rest of the world in a digital bubble amidst the din of public transporation or the city streets, it's a great reminder to stay on your toes, because everyone's out to get you, and there might be a frying pan around the corner with
your name on it.
And speaking of T & J, here's a news story that's over a year old but I can't get over how fucked up these guys are. Maybe we do need to start another war:
[Religious fanatics make me cry.]
3.20.2007
Vagabond Dispatch #2
These pictures were taken at a place that I can't quite remember the exact name of. It was located near Fisherman's Wharf, and was something like The Museum of Electric Novelties, or Museum of Electric Gizmos, or Electric Machines, or whatever. Tried to Google it, but no luck. Anyway, they have a bunch of coin-operated machines dating back to the turn of the century (the one before the most recent, fool) that range from little risque peep shows to these gigantic scale models of carnivals or rodeos where all the little figures are moving around doing their own things.
Strangely, there were like five separate machines that had some kind of public execution theme; a couple guillotine ones, a couple gallows ones. Just goes to show that people have always been willing to pay to see some kind of unsophisticated, morbid spectacle. Anyway my two favorite machines were "Opium Den" and "Drunkard's Dream", but only my pictures of the former really depict the true entertainment value in still frame form. I'll post some pix of the other machines later, but for now just settle for this hazy dream of a diversion. I'm thinking this may be a good theme for The Red House one day.
Strangely, there were like five separate machines that had some kind of public execution theme; a couple guillotine ones, a couple gallows ones. Just goes to show that people have always been willing to pay to see some kind of unsophisticated, morbid spectacle. Anyway my two favorite machines were "Opium Den" and "Drunkard's Dream", but only my pictures of the former really depict the true entertainment value in still frame form. I'll post some pix of the other machines later, but for now just settle for this hazy dream of a diversion. I'm thinking this may be a good theme for The Red House one day.
Polish Movie Posters (LINK FIXED)
One of the coolest sites I've seen in a while. This is a gallery of movie posters which were designed exclusively for their films' Polish theatrical releases. You can look them up by country of the film's origin. Most of these are far more creative than the ones for their domestic releases, especially the American stuff.
There was a link, but according to someone below it wasn't working. I fixed it, and then when added the "LINK FIXED" to the title the link disappeared and won't show up when I paste it in here.
So check the comments for the correct link.
Thanks, Bill.
There was a link, but according to someone below it wasn't working. I fixed it, and then when added the "LINK FIXED" to the title the link disappeared and won't show up when I paste it in here.
So check the comments for the correct link.
Thanks, Bill.
Vagabond Dispatch #1
In the absence of regular emails, phone conversations, and social appearances, I'm going to try and post here as often as laziness will permit to keep my posse abreast of developments in my now tumultuous and transient existence. Anything goes here, including pix, poems, rants, reviews, and marriage proposals. Thanks to Julie for the push.
Captions for below are as follows: (1) A final goodbye to the party bus in San Luis; (2) When life gives you lemons...try not to stand like that; (3) Lonely ol' barges; (4) Shadows on the wall; (5) Sonny and Cher's shared ride?
more to come...
Captions for below are as follows: (1) A final goodbye to the party bus in San Luis; (2) When life gives you lemons...try not to stand like that; (3) Lonely ol' barges; (4) Shadows on the wall; (5) Sonny and Cher's shared ride?
more to come...
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