Susan is my favorite. Deal with it.
Monday, June 21, 2010
I realized Hank Rollins' self-help thrasher in some benign ways today, but that doesn't mean that I AM LESS THAN TOTALLY FUCKING PUMPED ON EVERYTHING I DID!
- Bought a bunch of trivial-but-necessary stuff in no-less than FOUR stores on Powell St.!
- Saw TWO movies!
- Cleaned my room!
- CONSIDERED putting up curtains!
- Watched Arnold Schwarzenegger quotes with Danny!
- Bought a VCR!
My day was so good that getting a contact stuck in between my eyeball and skull on the right side of my face wasn't even a big deal!
Have you ever gotten a contact lens stuck? You have to hold your eyelids open and wiggle your eyeball, then eventually your eyeball sort of pukes it out. It's gross.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Tonight, I headed over to the Victoria to catch the premiere of "William S. Burroughs: A Man Within", presented as a part of Frameline34. It goes without saying that Mr. Burroughs' life is so complex and fascinating that it is perfect documentary fodder. Unfortunately, the movie predominantly reads as adolescent hagiography - trivializing an exceedingly complicated and dense biography to reductive bullet points. The movie is literally divided into subjects like "Beatniks", "Drugs", "Guns", "Booze", "That-wife-murdering-thing", "Painting", etc...
It says a lot that Bill Burroughs' (very tenuous) connection with the origin of punk rock literally gets more screen time than the section dealing with his awful relationship with his son (which ended in his son's death). I guess there weren't enough pictures of Bill Burroughs, Jr. hanging out with Joe Strummer.
The William Tell incident in Mexico City with the lovely Joan Burroughs in the early 50s gets about as much time as a parade of talking heads giving their opinion on whether or not Burroughs and Ginsberg f-ed.
Speaking of talking heads...
Q: What do Patti Smith and Fred Flintstone have in common have in common, besides the facial hair?
A: They both only have one pair of clothes.
Patti Smith doesn't shut up during this stupid movie. I mean, I doubt she has the physical ability to shut up, but her sycophantic attachment to beatniks is gross and tacky. Plus her music (both on the soundtrack and in general) is terrible. Most of the other interviews are extraneous and offer zero insight.
There are two very notable exceptions to this rule - John Waters and Genesis Breyer P'Orridge, both of whom have sort of emerged as preeminent experts in the subcultural depths of the second half of the 20th century (see: "It Came From Kuchar" and "DiG!" respectively, among other exercises in punditry). Again and again, their astute observations are placed aside - and in direct refutation of - less informed musings.
You know, it's weird...I left the movie with a solid "meh", but writing this has turned that "meh" to a solid "blech".
Monday, June 14, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Sometime, when it is less immediately depressing, I really ought to make a list of all the terrible books I have spent inordinate amounts of time trying to write.
Right now, I'll just mention one - the half-sentient sex doll that ends up joining a magazine crew.
"What, she's like a reporter?"
Naw, dude. She joins a magazine crew, which is something I was vaguely obsessed with from 2007 - 2009.
Just writing this makes me want to read about Magazine Subscription crews until my eyes fall out. Here's the New York Times story that sparked my interest.
One of the several hundred good decisions I made about moving across country was to leave my boxes of dumb notebooks in a box in my parents' attic.
Duh 101: People like comics because they're epic. Epic heroes and villains - Batman and the Joker. X-Men and Magneto. Daredevil and Kingpin. Generation after generation, in the hands of new creative teams, archetypical conflicts are writ large and small against these back drops.
And then there's dudes like The Flash. He can run fast.
It can't be easy to write for someone who's antithesis is abstract to say the least. But that didn't keep almost seven decades worth of writers and artists from trying. I spent a lot longer than
I should have on Wikipedia tonight, reading about the Flash's rogues gallery.
There have been, relatively speaking, a lot of Flashes. They all share two traits: a.) they can run fast, b.) they fight people who are downtrodden and benignly disturbed. I assembled pocket biographies of some of the Flash's enemies from Wikipedia. Here you go:
Friday, June 11, 2010
Oh lordy, I could sit at this kitchen table and drink myself under said table.
Here are the options for the weekend:
- Find a way to watch the Paul F. Tompkins special on Comedy Central.
- Work from home!
- Go to a one-year old's birthday party in Oakland?
- Go see "A-Team". Watch "One Crazy Summer". Go see "Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work".
- Punch myself in the face; gut.
Here are elaborations:
- I hope so! Smiley face!
- Why does this prospect make YOU so uncomfortable? He's an old soul.
- Swine flu vaccine? Is that a thing I can get? For free? Mixed for wine? Oh, is that a fact? Then scratch that one.
- Realistically and respectively: No, Half, Yes
- Yes. Yes.
I think I could have left work tonight, after fourteen hours, as the youngest modern expert on laser discs.
I'm not even that young.
I remember driving around LA's Chinatown six years ago almost to the day. (In educated hindsight, it was probably Koreatown, but I'll stick with my incorrect and racist assumption for period detail...) Victoria and I hung around under paper lanterns on the set of a foreign car commercial. We were eventually shoo-ed away, and then we went to a post-punk dance party in the back of a Chinese restaurant and danced until they closed. We drove around until the sun came up, playing the CALIFORNIA SCAN game (TO PLAY: set your car radio on 'scan' and only stop on songs that mention California).
Things I could do for the good of the internet:
- Close up every blog that only has one post or two, from 2002 - current.
- Close up every blog that has an entry that starts "Wow, it's been a while since I've written!"
- Write an honest, uniform grading system for assessing superiority over childhood chums based on social networking clues.
Things I could do for the good of this apartment:
- Take all those bottles to the squalid recycling container. Risk rabies.
- De-hospital ward my bedroom.
- Clean the bathroom.
Things I could do for the good of me:
- Grift people going into the diner downstairs. Grift 'em up/down.
- Laundry. Gross.
- Go to bed. Reserve right to never, ever wake up again.