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Oct. 18th, 2007 02:55 amDear Limahl's haircut:
I can't get you out of my head, babe. All last night, I tossed and turned, tormented by thoughts of you on top of me, your curls kissing the back of my neck, your follicles driven deep into my skull, some mysterious chemistry flooding through them, reassuring me that though the world might laugh, I can do anything as long as you're with me. I can throw caution to the wind, grow out some five o'clock shadow, and sing falsetto in a hypnotically self-involved jaw dislocating manner reminiscent perhaps of one trying to fellate an elephant. Such is the power you have over me. Your birth the legacy of a night of passion spent between a mullet and a drunken spider. What transcendent glory that one such as you could come from such humble origins. Though showered with mockery, there's a glimmer of insouciant luster to you that I can tell is ironic disregard for your detractors. You're not like any haircut I've ever known, and so different from the tramp I'm with now. Her blue the hue of indifference, the callous way she leaves my neck bare to the elements. Oh how I long to be encompassed by your blonde and black majesty, dappled like some jungle beast. But wait, I can hear her stirring in her sleep. I must send this now and tonight, with luck, I dream of you. Of us.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Right. Now that I've gotten that out of my system, on with the minutiae of life, which, considering I'm me, might as well start with movies. I saw My Kid Could Paint That on Monday as a time-killer between work and Death Guild and liked it more than expected. Some of the best bits weren't really about the subject of the film at all, but more about the observer problem as it relates to documentary work, in that you change the subject by observing it. And of course all the great furor about abstract art in general. Personally, I don't much care about the furor over whether or not the girl actually created the paintings. My appreciation of art more or less begins and ends with whether or not I think it's purty. If there's some particular story behind it, that's dandy, but it doesn't make me like the art itself more or less. The art and the story behind the art aren't much coupled for me. This, and my complete inability to bullshit, is probably why I didn't go to art school. That or the complete sucking void of any spark of creativity or talent in me so vast(ly small) that I believe I might actually sap the artistic potential of those I spend too much time around. One or the other. I've got a sort of love/hate thing going with most abstract art also. Generally speaking I hate the actual art aspect of it (though there are exceptions), but I'm endlessly amused listening to people talk about it. This carries right up until the likes of Rothko, which I view as being an excellent joke taken entirely too far to be funny anymore.
Before I digress further, appealing trailers I've seen recently (or not so recently, but I just forgot to mention them), I'm Not There, and Weirdsville
After the movie, I noticed a group of people gesturing emphatically at each other in sign language, and spent most of the BART ride wondering what it would be like to be deaf. Given the state of my father's hearing and the fact that I spend a good portion of every day listening to music playing very loudly over my headphones, I'll probably get to find out eventually. There are some aspects of it that I would consider not so bad. I'd never have to use the telephone ever again, which would be bliss. I'd never give myself a headache trying to wish telekinetic death on people talking in movie theaters (I should note that I don't *really* want the ability to kill with my mind. I'd much rather just have the ability to remove people from history entirely, to make them never have existed in the first place as that 1) Saves on the hordes of corpse cleanup details that would inevitably follow me around as I grew mad with power (for a pretty excellent exposition on this subject, I would recommend you read Palahniuk's Lullaby), 2) It's cruelty free and 3) It makes for better scifi. Because if you can't have scifi written about your inevitably dystopic attempt at making a better world, then really, what's the point?) (This rant brought to you by the people sitting behind Simon and myself having a conversation throughout the entirety of Lust, Caution on Sunday). Anyway, another added bonus of the whole being deaf thing is that I'd have a pretty excellent excuse not to talk to people anymore, which, in a very general sense, I don't really like much, probably because I don't think I'm very good at it, and my immediate response to anything I'm not very good at is to decide I wasn't very interested in it in the first place and go find something else to do (I'm fairly convinced that in the greek tragedy of my life, this is my defining flaw (sidetracking wiki-hole Tragic Flaw->Nichomachean Ethics->Aristotelian Ethics->The Golden Mean (I love my nick)). I much prefer writing. For some reason I seem better able to channel what I'm thinking then, which is sort of amusing, because I tend to write in a conversational style. To a certain extent I'm just transcribing what is basically a spoken conversation I'm having with simultaneously nobody and everyone I think might be reading my journal. I always feel clumsy when I'm talking, and I don't much enjoy that feeling of frustration. Another thing wrong with talking that is far superior in written form: Parentheses. You could speak in a parenthetical manner, I suppose, but it's generally reserved for people who are very high and easily distracted by shinies. Also, multiple person conversations, while still problematic on something like IRC, are a complete trainwreck in the real world. It's a neverending mess of people stepping on each others sentences, and considering I'm not incredibly assertive, it's usually just me half saying something several times and then just sitting back and watching the other people talk, until I get (more) uncomfortable and go somewhere else. Anyway, eventually I decided that being deaf would pretty much suck, but mainly just because I love music. Becoming mute on the other hand still sounds more appealing than is probably sane.
Hrm, it's late. I'm watching Peter Greenaway's Belly of an Architect, and I'm struck by the fact that Peter Greenaway and Wes Anderson in some ways seem to be the inverse of each other, at least in the way they frame their shots. They both have incredibly posed shots, but while Anderson's tend to be tight around the actors, creating a feeling of intimacy, many of Greenaway's, especially in this movie, leave the characters stranded in the middle or to a side, overawed by the visual wealth surrounding them. I think I find the thought of my life being shot by Greenaway more appealing, but maybe that's just the hand stapled to my forehead talking, as so many of his characters come to bad ends (as an aside, there's an okcupid test that assures me that the director who is filming my life is actually Sofia Coppola, which I find rather appealing). Why is Prospero's Books *still* not on DVD? Oh, here's a sad little question for you. Which is more depressing? The fact that after watching Darjeeling Limited for the first time, I couldn't remember who sang Playing With Fire, or the fact that initial google searches for it came up with almost unanimously nothing but Hillary Duff references? I'd like to think it's the latter, but that's probably just because I don't want to feel in some part culpable for the bankrupt state of music these days.
Less than five hours till alarm and counting. I'm sure most people who are likely to care are already well aware, but I'd be remiss in my duties, if I didn't mention that the new Tim Schafer game Brutal Legend is clearly going to be one of the most excellent things ever (That link may well stop working soon. Someone seems to have been wandering about removing that trailer). My general reaction upon first hearing about it was "That sounds like it's going to be spectacularly idiotic... Oh, wait, it's Tim Schafer. I reverse my opinion entirely". It looks like wikipedia finally has a good selection of quotes from Psychonauts up (plenty of spoilers there. If you haven't played it yet, you really ought to). I've been giggling at them all day.
Sleep now maybe.
I can't get you out of my head, babe. All last night, I tossed and turned, tormented by thoughts of you on top of me, your curls kissing the back of my neck, your follicles driven deep into my skull, some mysterious chemistry flooding through them, reassuring me that though the world might laugh, I can do anything as long as you're with me. I can throw caution to the wind, grow out some five o'clock shadow, and sing falsetto in a hypnotically self-involved jaw dislocating manner reminiscent perhaps of one trying to fellate an elephant. Such is the power you have over me. Your birth the legacy of a night of passion spent between a mullet and a drunken spider. What transcendent glory that one such as you could come from such humble origins. Though showered with mockery, there's a glimmer of insouciant luster to you that I can tell is ironic disregard for your detractors. You're not like any haircut I've ever known, and so different from the tramp I'm with now. Her blue the hue of indifference, the callous way she leaves my neck bare to the elements. Oh how I long to be encompassed by your blonde and black majesty, dappled like some jungle beast. But wait, I can hear her stirring in her sleep. I must send this now and tonight, with luck, I dream of you. Of us.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Right. Now that I've gotten that out of my system, on with the minutiae of life, which, considering I'm me, might as well start with movies. I saw My Kid Could Paint That on Monday as a time-killer between work and Death Guild and liked it more than expected. Some of the best bits weren't really about the subject of the film at all, but more about the observer problem as it relates to documentary work, in that you change the subject by observing it. And of course all the great furor about abstract art in general. Personally, I don't much care about the furor over whether or not the girl actually created the paintings. My appreciation of art more or less begins and ends with whether or not I think it's purty. If there's some particular story behind it, that's dandy, but it doesn't make me like the art itself more or less. The art and the story behind the art aren't much coupled for me. This, and my complete inability to bullshit, is probably why I didn't go to art school. That or the complete sucking void of any spark of creativity or talent in me so vast(ly small) that I believe I might actually sap the artistic potential of those I spend too much time around. One or the other. I've got a sort of love/hate thing going with most abstract art also. Generally speaking I hate the actual art aspect of it (though there are exceptions), but I'm endlessly amused listening to people talk about it. This carries right up until the likes of Rothko, which I view as being an excellent joke taken entirely too far to be funny anymore.
Before I digress further, appealing trailers I've seen recently (or not so recently, but I just forgot to mention them), I'm Not There, and Weirdsville
After the movie, I noticed a group of people gesturing emphatically at each other in sign language, and spent most of the BART ride wondering what it would be like to be deaf. Given the state of my father's hearing and the fact that I spend a good portion of every day listening to music playing very loudly over my headphones, I'll probably get to find out eventually. There are some aspects of it that I would consider not so bad. I'd never have to use the telephone ever again, which would be bliss. I'd never give myself a headache trying to wish telekinetic death on people talking in movie theaters (I should note that I don't *really* want the ability to kill with my mind. I'd much rather just have the ability to remove people from history entirely, to make them never have existed in the first place as that 1) Saves on the hordes of corpse cleanup details that would inevitably follow me around as I grew mad with power (for a pretty excellent exposition on this subject, I would recommend you read Palahniuk's Lullaby), 2) It's cruelty free and 3) It makes for better scifi. Because if you can't have scifi written about your inevitably dystopic attempt at making a better world, then really, what's the point?) (This rant brought to you by the people sitting behind Simon and myself having a conversation throughout the entirety of Lust, Caution on Sunday). Anyway, another added bonus of the whole being deaf thing is that I'd have a pretty excellent excuse not to talk to people anymore, which, in a very general sense, I don't really like much, probably because I don't think I'm very good at it, and my immediate response to anything I'm not very good at is to decide I wasn't very interested in it in the first place and go find something else to do (I'm fairly convinced that in the greek tragedy of my life, this is my defining flaw (sidetracking wiki-hole Tragic Flaw->Nichomachean Ethics->Aristotelian Ethics->The Golden Mean (I love my nick)). I much prefer writing. For some reason I seem better able to channel what I'm thinking then, which is sort of amusing, because I tend to write in a conversational style. To a certain extent I'm just transcribing what is basically a spoken conversation I'm having with simultaneously nobody and everyone I think might be reading my journal. I always feel clumsy when I'm talking, and I don't much enjoy that feeling of frustration. Another thing wrong with talking that is far superior in written form: Parentheses. You could speak in a parenthetical manner, I suppose, but it's generally reserved for people who are very high and easily distracted by shinies. Also, multiple person conversations, while still problematic on something like IRC, are a complete trainwreck in the real world. It's a neverending mess of people stepping on each others sentences, and considering I'm not incredibly assertive, it's usually just me half saying something several times and then just sitting back and watching the other people talk, until I get (more) uncomfortable and go somewhere else. Anyway, eventually I decided that being deaf would pretty much suck, but mainly just because I love music. Becoming mute on the other hand still sounds more appealing than is probably sane.
Hrm, it's late. I'm watching Peter Greenaway's Belly of an Architect, and I'm struck by the fact that Peter Greenaway and Wes Anderson in some ways seem to be the inverse of each other, at least in the way they frame their shots. They both have incredibly posed shots, but while Anderson's tend to be tight around the actors, creating a feeling of intimacy, many of Greenaway's, especially in this movie, leave the characters stranded in the middle or to a side, overawed by the visual wealth surrounding them. I think I find the thought of my life being shot by Greenaway more appealing, but maybe that's just the hand stapled to my forehead talking, as so many of his characters come to bad ends (as an aside, there's an okcupid test that assures me that the director who is filming my life is actually Sofia Coppola, which I find rather appealing). Why is Prospero's Books *still* not on DVD? Oh, here's a sad little question for you. Which is more depressing? The fact that after watching Darjeeling Limited for the first time, I couldn't remember who sang Playing With Fire, or the fact that initial google searches for it came up with almost unanimously nothing but Hillary Duff references? I'd like to think it's the latter, but that's probably just because I don't want to feel in some part culpable for the bankrupt state of music these days.
Less than five hours till alarm and counting. I'm sure most people who are likely to care are already well aware, but I'd be remiss in my duties, if I didn't mention that the new Tim Schafer game Brutal Legend is clearly going to be one of the most excellent things ever (That link may well stop working soon. Someone seems to have been wandering about removing that trailer). My general reaction upon first hearing about it was "That sounds like it's going to be spectacularly idiotic... Oh, wait, it's Tim Schafer. I reverse my opinion entirely". It looks like wikipedia finally has a good selection of quotes from Psychonauts up (plenty of spoilers there. If you haven't played it yet, you really ought to). I've been giggling at them all day.
Sleep now maybe.
