Tuesday, December 30, 2003

Hi, you nutty nutters:

I use to work at City Pages a long time ago, and there was this genius reporter who wrote amazing articles about things that are Big News today, like killer flus and mad cow. Monika Bauerlein's a fucking genius. Check out this article she wrote in 1996 about mad cow.

I guess back then they weren't allowed to use sick cows for people food. i wonder when that changed, and why the news tonight didn't tell me.



ps: sorry to get all mad cow on you

Monday, December 29, 2003

hi, yeah

i forgot: "Elf" also borrows a fair amount from "Pee Wee's Big Adventure."




Saturday, December 27, 2003

Hello, Saturday Night:

I think you're all right.

I feel really lucky right now. I am having a potential streak of good movie karma. It's kind of like when you're on a roll in Yahtzee, or when you've been getting good parking. I have seen not one but two good movies in three days. What's interesting is that the only thing these movies have in common---and I mean the only thing--is Jon Favreau. First I saw "Elf" on Christmas with my brother and sister, and oh Lord, how I did cry. Jim Walsh, baby, I know you've seen it by now, right? How much did you love it?

Good Lord, what a classic Christmas movie.

Actually, I take it back: The other thing these movies have in common is Hal Ashby.

"Elf" borrows from lots of other movies, "Big" and "Being There" most of all. And the other movie I saw tonight, "Something's Gotta Give," made me think of my best movie of all time, "Harold and Maude." Both that movie and "Being There" were directed by Hal Ashby.

"Something's Gotta Give" is wonderful for many reasons, but the most surprising reason is Keanu Reeves, of all things. I think he may have actually given the performance of his life. He should be horribly proud. They should give out Oscars for Best Performance By A Traditionally Mediocre Actor, and he should win by a landslide. It's a terrible cliche, but he seriously lights up the screen in every shot. He is boyish and tender and lovely, and somehow his usual woodenness comes off as genuine human awkwardness. He is delightful to watch, and he makes every woman in the audience fall in love with him, not because he's kickass and hip and superhuman, but because he's totally human. I think his performance may have called up some of his deeper history, because I think he used this tragically romantic character as a way to express his experience of being in love way back, with the lady who died.

This movie also borrows from earlier movies, in a playful way---there are subtle references to "Manhattan," "Annie Hall," "Terms of Endearment," "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and even "The Shining." In fact, another reason this movie is so good is that it sort of culminates what is great about both Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton. And Diane Keaton definitely hits it out of the park, perfecting her character from "Annie Hall" and making me understand what the big fuss was all about back then, why she was so special.

I'm not saying it's a perfect movie--the editing is weird sometimes and some of the dialogue is pretty dialogue-y. But somehow it ends up working.

It's funny too because despite the age factor, the Diane Keaton character reminded me so much of myself. The scenes when she's crying compulsively at her computer, in the shower, on the beach, etcetera, were meant to be comic, but I wasn't really laughing. It almost made me feel that being in love is not really an individual experience. Falling in love is like tuning in to a secret frequency. Once you get the password, you're in, and in some ways it is the same environment for everyone who's there. I've seen it before in other people and I've kind of known how it would feel, and though it feels much bigger than all that, at the bottom, it feels just like I knew it would. It is a distinct feeling, distinctly different from not-love. It is a place. That's like that e.e. cummings poem.

When I was in tenth grade, I took an English class at Immaculate Heart from Ms. McNamara, a nun who understood about love. I mean, love-love, sexual and romantic, too. I don't know where she learned it, but she did. The entire year was spent reading the best high school books and trying to talk about love. I wrote a clearly Sapphic love poem for her class, before I even knew about such things as lesbian imagery; I was just trying to explain how it felt to love someone. She gave me an A+, and there wasn't a blush of embarrassment about any of it. Thank you, Ms. McNamara! In any case, something magic happened in her class. It was so special that a year ago when my friend Halle got married, she wanted Ms. McNamara to perform the ceremony, and I couldn't think of a better minister. It turned out that Ms. McNamara now lives in Northern California and works in prisons. That's the Immaculate Heart I know and love.

At the end of the year, we sat in the auditorium at long fold-up tables to do our final exam. It wasn't easy, but at the top of the first sheet of paper, she had written a note to us thanking us for the year and encouraging us, maybe not in so many words, to be confident. And at the end of her note, she included that poem by e.e. cummings. Sitting in that cold auditorium, being tested and codified for something as ephemeral as poetry, the note from Ms. McNamara reminded me what it had all been about, and what is was still all about, and what it was going to be about, regardless of our scores.

love is a place

& through this place of

love move

(with brightness of peace)

all places

yes is a world

& in this world of

yes live

(skilfully curled)

all worlds

It's funny I should be sitting here so many years later, reciting the same words that came to me like scripture at 17. I'd amend it myself, because love isn't all that peaceful, a lot of times. But what I have learned about love, and what this one movie said, too, was that the torture of heartbreak is a fucking bargain, as ticket prices go. And I guess that was also the main point of "Harold and Maude." That's what made me think of that film, more than the old woman/young man stuff.

It's like Maude said: Get hurt, even, but play as well as you can. Go team, Go!

Jesus, I'm Irish tonight.

By the way, I'd like to take the opportunity to wish a happy birthday to the Baby Jesus, in Prague and everywhere else he may be tonight. I'm often the first one to get down on Christianity, because I have a brain and whatnot, but the one thing I do appreciate about that tradition is its essential statement about Love. It was unique for its time and place, and that's why it has such staying power.

Gotta run. Rock on, babies----


Friday, December 26, 2003

Hello there.

This is one of Kate's relatives. She asked me to write here. Let's see...we've been talking about musical time travel across the dementia. She's Jeff Barry and I'm getting married. No, it's better than that. It's gonna be great

Wednesday, December 17, 2003

Good Morning, George Bernard Shaw!

I have this letter on the back of my bathroom door. I've had it like that for a couple years, so that every time I go to the bathroom I glance at it. I think it's done something for me, but I couldn't put it into words.

I think it's by an Italian monk named Fra Giovanni, and it's dated 1513. I don't know if they had exclamation points in 1513, but the version I have uses them.

No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present instant. Take peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within reach, is joy. There is radiance and glory in the darkness, could we but see, and to see we have only to look. I beseech you to look!

Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by their coverings, cast them away as ugly, or heavy, or hard. Remove the covering and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love, by wisdom, with power. Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel's hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow, or a duty, the angel's hand is there, the gift is there, and the wonder of an overshadowing presence.

Our joys too, be not content with them as joys--they, too, conceal deeper gifts.

And so at this time, I greet you, not quite as the world sends its greetings but with profound esteem and the prayer that for you, for now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away.

rock on--


Thursday, December 11, 2003

OK, Everybody (and that means you):

Finally I have a minute to get my blog on.

So, the record I'm into at the moment is the new release by Puffy AmiYumi, called "Nice." It's just super! I'm in love!

At first I thought there were only two good songs on it, kind of like their last compilation. It turns out, though, that this is a true album, written and produced cohesively and with great good care, delicious and full of discoveries all the way through. It's written and produced mainly by Andy Sturmer, who, as far as I know, used to be in Jellyfish, and who made the two great songs on their compilation. He's a dream.

Other than that, I've been travelling my ass off. To Minnesota.

The cottage is getting more and more cottagey. I've got a huge X-mas tree decorated with anything I could find around the house, including the cut-out satellite from ELO's "Out of the Blue" album, at the top of the tree, and a Rolling Stones keychain, a magic wand, a Wellstone button and my tiny Britney bear whose T-shirt says "Oops!" It's a good tree.

I'm listening at this moment to the new Nelly Furtado album, but I'm not feeling it. Oh well. I didn't exactly have my heart set on it.

Mostly I've been rockin' the KOLA-99 FM a lot, which plays "Hang on Sloopy" with appropriate frequency and also plays all the best holiday songs. OMG, Julio just played me the Christmas record by The Brothers Steve, a college band including members of Tsar and the Corvids and other friends. It's the most precious holiday record I've ever heard. Tender and delicate and full of boyish harmonies and heartfelt sentiments about Christmas, Chanukah, and Easter for no reason. I wish you could hear it. You would love it.

Boys act like they don't care about Christmas, but they totally do.

I wish I could write more but suddenly I am overcome with exhaustion. I've been working and staying up and not sleeping enough, and what with all the cyber-flus out there, it is suddenly necessary to sleep like 10 hours a night just to feel normal. Do you hear me?

talk to you soon,

stay gold,


Wednesday, December 10, 2003

boogly boogly,

I am all busy and everything. I took down yesterday's post--it turns out I'm just too private for such things. You know what I mean. I know you do.

I'm afraid I'm still not fully present on the time-space plane and thus I am unable to blog at normal capacity. You see, one half my brain is trying to find the perfect pop song of all time and the other half is in a meadow, dancing with Marc Bolan.

Monday, December 01, 2003

So I saw the third matrix last night---had to get it "out of the way" before moving onto "Elf" in the near future. what a lot of hooey. They really lost the ball, I'm afraid. I was really expecting some interesting multidimensional pseudo-theoretical physics/spirituality to make me think in new ways, but mostly I was amused by how the council of elders in Zion looked like the reunion of the original cast of "Hair" (with possibly some former members of Love thrown in).

I am the worst cryer at shlocky shit, and even i didn't cry at the "sad" parts. Trinity and Neo have gotten so smug about their perfect love, and she's got no sense of humor at all.

Jada Pinkett was the most interesting thing. And that lesbian sniper. She rocked.

well, as you can see, i am in a shit mood, so I'm going to sign off and spare you.