controlled burning

A Year in (My)Space, Stream-of-Consciousness Style (Photos, Formatting and Therefore Explanation: Lost)

2007-05-19T21:43:00.000-07:00

Saturday, May 05, 2007
Gnats. Nats. Fruit flies. Whatever. I hate them. I am looking for a new solution to the gnat menace.
It makes me a little sad when people that make words their stock in trade can't even be bothered to use spell-check, or a dictionary.
Why does TiVo think I want to watch Lifetime movies or shows from the Spanish-language channels? I've done nothing to indicate this is my favored genre.
Yesterday was Dick Dale's 70th birthday, and today is Michael Palin's 64th.
Spiderman 3 was nice, but hey, what's with all the crying? Jesus, you'd think it was a Mike Leigh film, not Sam Raimi.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
For the discriminating Chow Yun-Fat fan: he may not be in many movies these days, but there is this.
Friday, April 27, 2007
The headline mentioned another al qaeda member and posted the following pic:
Since when did Eric Roberts become a terrorist?
Maybe the conservatives are right about Hollywood after all...
Saturday, April 21, 2007
The disadvantage to my age is that when I get to the relaxed stretches, my mind tells me to rest, take it easy. My gut tells me to have fun. So my afternoon presented itself and I really felt like I should take a nap, but ended up playing Call of Duty. Killin' Nazis in da hood...of Poland, I think. And fun was had by all. But now I'm more tired than I was before...and even more than last night, when I sat on ball-busting chairs and watched shy of five hours worth of sweetass poetry.
Pugsley's Library, home to the Poetry Grind slam of Dallas, featured Ed Mabrey between rounds of the Grand Slam (to determine this year's team). Sir Ed Mabrey, actually, as I feel he must certainly be American royalty when it comes to spoken word. Yeah, it was that good.
The players of the Grand Slam all acquitted themselves handily, providing one of the most impressive shows I've seen in some time.
But I'm tired. Maybe tomorrow I'll take that nap.
Friday, April 20, 2007
I think I saw Sanjaya delivering Papa John's pizzas yesterday afternoon.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Complete the following real MSN.com news headline.
BARACK OBAMA TAPS ______
a) "A GeorgeTown Keg"
b) "That Ass!"
c) "Two Worlds For Funding"
If you guessed C, you were right. The story tells of how Obama received campaign funding from both individual contributors and political insiders. But considering the tabloid level of news stories over the past months, the other two probably didn't seem that implausible, even if they would have been re-worded for family-friendly newspapers.
If you guessed B, well, you were bored like me.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Is it possible for something to be sexy, sad and hilarious, simultaneously? Yes.
Is it possible for someone to create a loving homage to a band/song and at the same time fashion a biting, harsh send-up of everything that is wrong with a genre? Yes.
If you have not yet seen Alanis Morrisette's video cover of The Black Eyed Peas' "My Humps", then rush right over to YouTube and do so, with haste. It is just about one of the most perfect videos I have ever viewed, and manages all of the above as well as being highly entertaining and able to point up all that is displeasing about contemporary music.
Go there, now.

Well, last weekend was the Last Chance Slam at Pugsley's, where one of our two Dallas slam teams (The Poetry Grind, hosted by hipsters Bob "Whoopeecat" Stephenson and "Konnichiwa" Zach) runs their show. I was eligible for the LCS though I had absolutely no intention of going for the Grand Slam (which will take place Friday the 20th). But it provided another opportunity to read my work, so I go, because my desk isn't a very receptive audience.
Here are the three pieces I used for the LCS.
1.
progress

Later that evening, as I was leaving,
I made my way through the long, broad hallway
that lead from the elevators to the high expanse of lobby,
and playing softly but quite clearly was:

"It's gettin' dark, too dark … to see… feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door."
I turned to the young woman in the slightly rumpled
attendant's uniform,
and I asked her:

"Don't you think that song is inappropriate for a hospital?"

…this is a work in progress…

My father was 73 when I wrote this piece.

He is a real man, old school man, good man:
good son, husband, father
good soldier, pilot, administrator
good veteran, retiree, civilian, worker.

Doesn't say much, but is great with people.
Pushes the anger down, has a great smile.
A man of honor and decency in a world of shortcuts;
everyone wants to say their old man was a good man.

My father had been hobbling around for a couple of years,
and finally agreed to the hip replacement.

I visited him after the first day,
and when my mother went home that evening,
we were left alone, together.

We don't talk very much, I thought, and never have.

He kept dozing off from the medication
and every time he came to, he rolled his head
to the side to see me, and dislodged the oxygen tube
from his nostrils each time.

He would reset it with spotted fingers,
one hand tattooed with a tennis-ball-sized bruise
from the IV used during the procedure.

He did this several times.

Halfway through my stay I did it for him, and again before I left.

I felt awkward taking the initiative to help him in any way, this self-reliant man,
looking small and weak in his bed, legs mere sticks, gut distended,
skin not pale so much as opaque.

He did not react when I did it, perhaps because he never anticipated
needing such attention, perhaps because there was an interaction with
<>
just because he was drugged and tired and in pain,
and family does these kinds of things,
even when they don't talk.

When he spoke his voice crackled from dryness in his throat,
and he sipped water relentlessly, with little reward.

We don't talk much, I thought, but right now, would he really want to?

You see your mother or father every day and you think nothing but
excuse or blame, old stories or nostalgia, bad memories, maybe good ones…
but you see them in a weakened state, with tubes in their arms,
oxygen masks covering their lips and nostrils, or just in an immobile or fragile state,
and your view of many things…shifts.

Was he disappointed in me? Did he even have expectations?
if he wanted something for me, could he have told me so?

He lay in that bed looking like a little man, more human
for his frailty than I'd ever seen him before.

We didn't talk much, and I thought we never will.

But that was okay…

It was just a hip, after all.

In a few days he would be home, and warm, and well.
In a few weeks he would be back to normal, and better.
He would be walking faster and stronger than me,
and we'd go back to not speaking so much
in our regular capacity.

My old man is a good man.

I inherited his smile.
And if I seem to use it with less frequency than he does,
it's because I want to respectfully set aside some little piece of him
for when I'll need to remember it most.

…this is a work in progress…
and every time I write it down, I feel like a thief.
2.
disregard

I am full of shit.

I am full of hope.

I am full of love, singular adoration for the woman who will
soothe and protect me while correcting my typing.

I am full of four-lettered words that signify all of a lying breeze.

I am full of fear.

I am full of wind, foghorn farts to steer you far and wide
from the craggy coastline of my shit.

I am full of envy, and my mother once said to
eat something green every day, so you fake motherfuckers
keep laying yourselves in the middle of the road,
because I will watch you and take my unread beauties
back home and fold them neatly
and then swallow that ugly beast
down.

I am full of four-lettered words that signify all of a dimly-lit room.

I am full of food.

I am full of film: ask me about the movie about the party
where the guy did that shocking thing which elicited
a stricken, communal gasp from the audience…I saw that one
before anyone else was into it.

I am full of rage, silent, heightened resentment for the commonality
of widespread stupidity in the name of self, greed for its own sake,
and hatred for something you cannot grasp or what amounts to
little more than the spectrum of the sun's light bouncing against
our flesh with all the intent of an electric pulse within a wall.

I am full of four-lettered words that signify all of your wanting.

I am full of fuck.

I am full of hoax; my trickery is in my absence and
my fraudulence runs thick with the bile and beauty of every other word.

I am full of grit; gravity may hold firm, but
routine will not bind or cut my wrists,
indifference will not halt my stride,
censure will not bloody my mouth.

I am full of four-lettered words that signify the dizzying chasm between
the enormity of a child's vision and the insular depths of an adult's
depression.

But mostly, I am full of shit…
and hope.
3.
better than me
I never had a better brother
I could resent for my own
failure.

Came in 4 out of 6, but that's okay. I'm judge-proof.
(copyrights: progress scn 4/4/07; disregard scn 4/4/07; better than me scn 12/3/05)
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Today Larry Birkhead was found to be the father of the late Anna-Nicole Smith's baby girl. I hope he will make the most of the opportunity fatherhood bestows upon him, and not fuck around like the average celebrity train-wreck.
***
Yesterday I almost fainted: I actually agreed (in part) with something Bill O'Reilly said. I was watching the veins almost - pop - as he duked it out with Geraldo Rivera in a tape from last week. Despite the scary level of rage coarsing through his body, O'Reilly was right: illegal immigrants that break laws (especially causing the death of someone else) need to be dealt with harshly - and I think deportation is a fair solution. Why take up more American prison space when there are already too many convicts as it is? Just send them home.
***
This past week was ridiculous: Blades of Glory, Meet The Robinsons, The Lookout, The Reaping, Grindhouse, Inland Empire, The Hoax...on DVD: Blood Diamond, Color Me Kubrick and Harsh Times...and on TV: premieres of the latest seasons of The Shield and The Sopranos. I'm on overload right now, so maybe a book and a nap.
***
Lastly, okay, Imus is a dumbass. But in this country, verbally acting out your dumbassishness is a constitutional right. Boycott him, call him on his shit, but treating him as if he had just killed someone...it's getting out of hand, folks. He's a guy on a radio show who said something offensive and stupid. Since when is that a crime, and if it was, would it really deserve days of media coverage greater than that given to murders, casualties of war, institutional treachery and the degradation of our nation's global status? No, only a selfish and arrogant person would think that...
...you can't crucify yourself, no it takes two...
Saturday, April 07, 2007
My head and my ass hurt.
I have spent 6 of the past 36 hours in movie theaters watching Grindhouse and Inland Empire. Both very different, very interesting viewing experiences. They are, essentially, as disparate as the id and the cock.
Inland Empire wants you to be submerged in the unconscious brain, to accept the drives of human nature and not question too much. Grindhouse wants you to openly rut forth in the viscera of gut-punch cinema. Both are fascinating in their way, and created by masters of their own archetypes. David Lynch mastered question-mark film from day one with Eraserhead...basically created a subgenre all his own. Quentin Tarantino, by aping with great care the films he loves most, created his own as well, but has had far more wannabe followers in his path. A slew of people have attempted to make the next Reservoir Dogs or Pulp Fiction. No one I can think of has tried to make the next Blue Velvet. (It pays to mention that David Cronenberg is another fellow who has molded his own form of subgenre film, the pathology thriller...meant to be read literally...and been highly successful with it. But no one has come along behind him to make that very specific type of movie.)
Inland Empire has a staggering, 3-hour-long performance by Laura Dern, but Grindhouse (co-hosted, if you will, be fellow genre aficionado Robert Rodriguez) has all the fun. But I'm not sure if you can say one or the other is a better film...they both fill quite a different niche.
...they fucked with the wrong mexican...
Friday, April 06, 2007
Happy birthday to Frank Black and Paul Rudd.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
My AFI Dallas experience ended up being spotty at best, but ended quite nicely.
I had originally intended to see eight films, but only saw all of three. I had pre-purchased all my tickets, but at a low-low discounted price, so not seeing some things didn't sting as much as it probably did for the high-dollar passholders. Overall, the inaugural festival was well-handled. They managed to show almost 200 films in 10 days and not cause a riot. That I know of.
There were some schedule snafus, but overall, from what I saw and heard, things went well. And the lineup was really stellar.
I just didn't see as much as I would have liked.
PAPRIKA - Didn't see it (due to a family obligation that came up).
FIDO - Pleasant, sometimes laugh-out-loud parody of 1950's kitsch, Lassie and zombie films. It takes some time to ramp up, but ultimately is a solid effort.
FAY GRIM - Didn't see it (due to weather concerns).
DARK MATTER - Disappointing drama about a brilliant Chinese student who allows the strain of his passionate obsession with an untested theory of the cosmos to drive him mad. Sort of. It had nice moments throughout but was ultimately weakened by a less-than-powerful lead actor, an uncertain tone and no real cinematic spark.
SHUT UP AND SHOOT ME - Left after about 20 minutes. It was interminable. I really like Karel Rodan, so it was another disappointment.
10 ITEMS OR LESS - Seemed sweet enough, with two very funny sequences with Morgan Freeman playing a pleasant actor who is astounded by the concept of Target and delights in the fun to be had at a carwash. Unfortunately, to make another film at a different location I was forced to leave before this film ended. I hated doing so but had to run.
THE TEN - David Wain's absurd and hilarious tales of the ten commandments made for a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Repeatedly laugh-out-loud funny, with some brave comedic performances. All I can say is Winona Ryder earns a great deal of respect for riding the dummy.
NETHERBEAST INCORPORATED - Didn't see it. Goddam, I was tired.
Then there were the celebrity photo opportunities. Let me just say, we didn't even consider taking a pic of Sarah Polley at Mi Cocina. It just felt wrong, and besides, she seemed to be enjoying herself. I was enjoying my tacos. We let it stay that way.
Joe Pantoliano was wandering about the Magnolia lobby in a shirt with the Union Jack on the back and a dark brown cowboy hat, a little bauble hanging from one ear. He seemed genuinely pleased to speak with people and while I was on line for 10 Items, he stepped into view. I readied my aim and just as I clicked away...the director of one of the festival's short film contenders leaned over, nudging me and this is what I got:
Damn you, short film director!
Then during the intro to 10 Items, the director, producer and Morgan Freeman got up and said a few words. The lighting was...well, here's what I got:
Yes, somewhere in that dark, fuzzy void is Morgan Freeman's face. But I can promise you, that is Morgan Freeman's shirt.
Lastly, The Ten's co-creator Ken Marino (of the original troupe from The State) answered a few questions at the evening's end:
Yeah, I know, I suck with the camera phone. I've taken decent shots with it before, but this was just a roundly humiliating experience.
For now, I'm glad I went...The Ten was a great way to close things out for me. There is nothing better than Joe LoTruglia and Liev Schreiber destroying their families over CatScan machines, or Paul Rudd doing practically anything. Now I must wait for August, when the Asian Film Festival of Dallas has their annual run. But that's a ways off. I can stick with standard fare until then.
Best Overheard Crowd Comment: "Who is that, the gay Billy Bob Thornton?" (guy behind me as we passed Pantoliano in his giddyup getup)
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Over the years, and especially when you have as spotty attendance as I do, you miss out on where people have ended up. Jena is somewhere in Austin (anyone got an e-mail address?); Kirsten is somewhere in Dallas, painting; Shannon got hitched and built a cabin in the mountains of some faraway state; the list is long and results varied. But there's one guy I never hear about, never see around, and no one's ever confirmed he died, so I have to assume he's still wandering the earth.
Whatever happened to Frank Edwards?
Frank was a slam poet back in the late nineties during the surge of the Clebo/GNO/Carney sessions. He looked like a disgusted insurance salesman, but actually I think the fact was he just dressed better than most of us. And say what you want about his personality, he tended to be a damn good performer. Sweat dripping off that head, voice booming through the Clearview lounge, he was worth watching.
These days, most poets have either stuck to their chosen neighborhoods or moved far from them. But you can usually find them. Frank just seemed to drop off the face of the planet, from what I can tell.
There are men that even Google cannot find. And only poetic mysteries remain.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
pagan, christian and the truth in-between

fuckin' persians, loosed a thousand-thousand bolts,
corroded sun's light and killed all but the spirit
of leonidas' furious steel

the whole of a nation can fall and go nigh unnoticed

but one compassionate man hung from a pair of railroad ties
takes a single spear in the side, and the throng responds
as if someone poked their god in the eye

like the man once said: in wine is found truth,
and in truth is found a need for more wine.

-scn, march 19, 2007

In Dallas we have two poetry slam venues, and both are manned by and populated with terrific talent. But neither one does a spectacular job of posting who's performing, winning, in the top-tier for each show's team, etc. Come on, wordmeisters, give the mother-lovin' public your summarizations. We're interested even if we aren't there.
*
Found a CD copy of Frank Black's self-titled recording (the Los Angeles one) while doing some compulsive purchasing the day before my birthday. I had forgotten about the CD, which I really like, since a period of time following my college days, when really it feels like I listened to it during my college days, but that's simply not possible. I also found a copy of some Pogues remasters that I could have listened to during my college days, but was not wise enough to do so. During those years I was hooked on Thompson Twins and Cocteau Twins...and it takes a big man to admit that kind of range. I am (in that sense) huge.
**
Speaking of The Pogues: my son (17) heard them for the first time today and thought they were pretty cool. There is hope after all.
***
Paprika is the latest Satoshi Kon mindtrip, and it's showing during the AFI festival this week. I already have my ticket. And I will not be going.
Due to a family obligation I must miss the show, but I will say it looks spectacular. SK's work is best viewed when clearheaded, and frequently it can be kind of heavy stuff. You can see his earlier art work in Roujin Z, and his feature Perfect Blue is a monster of a film. But it's his series Paranoia Agent that really works you over in the very best of ways. Now, with Paprika, he continues to create artistic, beautiful and freaky stories that are on par with little else. The film should be releasing in the states this June, so keep an eye open if you don't have festival access.
****
That song on the most recent Cinemax "Life Needs Movies" promo? That's Erika Wennerstrom of The Heartless Bastards. Her voice is a thing to behold, and the song, "All This Time", is just plain awesome.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Within the same week early in April, we're going to get the Tarantino/Rodriguez production of Grindhouse, the next chapter in The Shield, and the final days of The Sopranos.
I'm quite tingly all over.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
If you're in the Dallas area, don't forget that starting tonight is the AFI-Dallas' inaugural festival. It runs through Sunday, April 1st. They have a variety of cool films to see, so get out and find something that suits your tastes, or just pick randomly and have some fun.
My suggestions:
PAPRIKA
SHUT UP AND SHOOT ME
INLAND EMPIRE
NETHERBEAST INCORPORATED
EXILED
THE TEN
TEN ITEMS OR LESS
DARK MATTER
Enjoy!
What I'm Spinning!
FRANK BLACK Frank Black
THE POGUES Remasters
BJORK Drawing Restraint
ROD STEWART Best Of...
Yep, I'm Just Sayin'...
Category: Sexy!
Just saw this in a bulletin:
"ARIES: The SexiestOutgoing. Lovable. Spontaneous. Not one to fuck with. Erotic. Funny. Takes you on trips to the moon in bed. Excellent kisser. Extremely sexy. Loves being in long relationships. Addictive. Loud. Best in bed."
Now, I usually don't buy into these kinds of things, but - a-hem - let's just say the wife ain't grinnin' because of that sense of humor thing...
Steve Norwood - birthdate: March 23, Year Of The Dragon
Birthsign: Ram!
The sexy never stops...
Saturday, March 17, 2007
"Tickle The Fat Kid Until He Barfs" and win an IPOD.
Lovely.
For those who like a little bonus when doing an online marketing game, he pees himself first.
Welcome to America!
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Lily Allen's Alright, Still...
The Rolling Stones' Exile on Main St.
Patti Smith's Easter
Gorillaz' Demon Days
eels' Souljacker
The barking of the children downstairs and the cries of the dog next door
The main screen theme to Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
The hiss of a broken water heater
The ratchety noise of my Deskjet 460 when I try to print out sub-par work
The wheels of cleverness in blogtown

"Reading is FUN-damental!"
Johnnie To's Exiled
Ewing & Grady's Jesus Camp
Tony Bill's Flyboys
Jacques Audiard's The Beat That My Heart Skipped
Martin Scorsese's The Departed
Commercials for Lunestra
Shinya Tsukamoto's Gemini
Approximately 10 minutes of Heroes
The occasional repeat of Curb Your Enthusiasm episodes
Commercials for 300

"Reading is FUN-damental"
Pablo Neruda's The Book of Questions
David Mamet's Bambi vs. Godzilla: On the Nature, Purpose, and Practice of the Movie Business
Daniel Tammet's Born on a Blue Day
Webster's New World Dictionary, Second College Edition (1980)
2007 Poet's Market
The New American Roget's Thesaurus (1962)
Luann
Funky Winkerbean
Doonesbury
Film Comment
Giant Robot

"Reading is FUN-damental!"

Saturday, March 10, 2007
I was lingering in the local Borders a couple of weeks ago, and came across a display of cheap CDs by black artists. There I found an $8.99 copy of a remastered version of Miles Davis' Sketches of Spain.
Sweet! February turned out alright after all!
(Okay, for the humorless, this was my way of pointing up the way important things are downplayed or commercialized in our society. A rack of discounted CDs in honor of black history should be as insulting as anyone's history being given a mere month for reflection. But sometimes you fuckers don't get the jokes, and I wanted to be sure no one thought I was being insensitive to black people. Christ, what a world.)
(BTW, great CD.)
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
It's possible that above this you are seeing the BEAT UP THE DEVIL game, wherein you can win a ringtone if you pummel Beelzebub.
God, the mighty boxer of the heavens, will left-jab you to a recurring snippet of JUICY, for free!
What a country we live in. Hands on hearts, we should say a little prayer of thanks to capitalism and to the great pugilist, Christian Bearded Deity.
What's New(s)?
Let's see...
Not Iraq, not Iran, not the 2008 contenders getting started up, not the condition of the earth, not the pay and benefits of police, firefighters and teachers, not the minimum wage, not research for cancer or AIDs, not the fight against illiteracy, obesity or racial/religious/class intolerance, and definitely not my poetry.
No, these are the top stories of the day:
- Anna Nicole Smith, ex-centerfold, continues to rot while those around her go mad
- Antonella Barba, American Idol hopeful, may be the subject of both racy modeling shots and X-rated sex photos circulating on the web (and believe me, you gotta really dig deep to find them now that the cease-and-desist is in effect)
- People are outraged that Dreamgirls didn't win more Oscars
and locally:
- The Cotton Bowl will re-locate to Arlington
- TXU is being bought out
Well, okay, that last one is of interest, I'll give you that.
The high today will be 73 degrees, and it's going to be sunny and breezy. Just like the headlines.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
I mean, we could record the Oscars, and get fajitas tomorrow night, fast-forwarding through commercials.
And here's how the evening will pro'ly go: Ellen Degeneres won't embarrass herself. Winners: Scorsese, Mirren, Whitaker, Hudson, Murphy, Babel. Really bad renditions of Best Song nominees. Too many clip reels. One or two socially unacceptable or politically incorrect speeches. Somebody gonna call (GW) Bush on his shit. Too many of the right people getting their speeches drowned out by Nelson Riddle (or whoever does that now), and too many of the wrong people (Billy Bush) getting way too much airtime. And, like the Superbowl, no good commercials.
This is different for me, as the Oscars are the thing I make time for each year, knowing the most deserving people won't be awarded, and still eager to treat it like a really exciting high school football playoff game.
But I'm willing to go out tonight. Jim Norton was in town a while back and I missed him, and I don't know how frequently he plans to come to Texas, so I figure I should make the most of the dust-covered VCR and enjoy the best of both worlds.
Of course, if Little Miss Sunshine sweeps the awards, I'll be in a foul mood anyway and need some fajitas and snuggle-monsters to make me feel better tomorrow.
Christ, did I just write "snuggle-monsters"? Thus the secret words are uttered, and the apocalypse doth begin.
Friday, February 23, 2007
"CAMBRIDGE, Massachusetts (Reuters) - Actor Ben Stiller said on Friday he'd be excited to star alongside Tom Cruise in an updated movie version of The Hardy Boys book series."
Yeah...if the Hardy boys were 40.
I'm guessing they'll travel back in time and meet up with a 40-year-old Huck Finn played, of course, by Owen Wilson.
And Nancy Drew will appear in the form of a cameo by Nicole Kidman.
Thank you, Hollywood!
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
I think it's safe to say that Britney Spears is crying on the inside.
Shaved head or no, I feel rather sad about her current state. I'd like to see what her "current mood" would be (have you read down through the emotions MySpace offers? There are so many dark and dingy choices that you wonder what they assumed their target demo was really going to be). But hers is one of those laugh now, gasp later lives.
We just saw the rollercoaster-turned-downward-spiral of Anna Nicole Smith come to a rather sudden stop. Yet a few years back we all laughed at the crazy antics of the then-walrus-like ex-centerfold moaning in a slurred, surely-it-means-drug-enhanced mewl about one ridiculous situation or another on her reality show.
Maybe it's because we laughed for so long that the inevitable (?) sad story comes as such a shock. Or maybe it's that protective feeling we co-opt when a vulnerable celebrity is slipping, not quite falling head first but definitely leaning too far in the wrong direction that we feel a sense of genuine concern for people we would otherwise ridicule and scorn. Let's face it, most of these folks have had it easy, or had so many grand opportunities at their fingertips that we cringe when they completely fuck things up.
Some don't warrant our concerns because they come across as too full of themselves or simply mean-spirited. Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton and Tara Reid, for example, appear to be unintelligent, whining cunts. But they probably aren't so bad in person. We've simply never been given the opportunity to see their better sides. When they lock themselves in a seedy motor inn for a final weekend of whiskey, meth and amateur porn tapings, we probably won't get that unsettled feeling in our guts that maybe someone should have done something to prevent this from happening.
But Britney? She seems like a sweet girl, always has. You want her to make better choices, to not fuck up. And now I fear that she is without strength of will, without firm but loving counsel, and definitely without hair...which is a look that could work. Stranger things have been, as they say, "hot".
I want to heal Britney Spears. I want to make her see the benefits of staying out of the public eye for at least a year, talk to her at length about her honest expectations of life, see if she can grasp a kind of inner calm and strength that will forever allow her to avoid the foolish choices of self-indulgence and the reeling sensation that comes with fast, excessive wealth...and rub her bald pate and tell her to forget all that celebrity nonsense. Tell her that everything's going to be alright. Tell her that her worth is not measured in paparazzi flashbulbs or lines of text in vapid periodicals.
But...I think we all know that's not going to happen.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Here is the content synopsis on the newly-released Def Poetry Season 4 DVD:
"Season four of the improvisational, uninhibited late-night series features the spoken words of the biggest and most stellar talent lineup like Kanye West (6 time Grammy Award-winner), Tracy Morgan (30 Rock) and Mike Epps (Host of Russell Simmons' Def Comedy Jam). Each episode is hosted by the highly regarded hip hop artist and actor Mos Def (hit album Black on Both Sides). Director: Stan Lathan Actors: Ruby Dee, Mike Epps, Tracy Morgan, Kim Fields, Kanye West, Ani Di Franco…"
Glad to see the slam poets getting their due.
Harriet Tubman Was A Sucker!
For all those who think they can uniquely express the black experience in America, well, you've got another thing coming. Please see a true example of what Black History Month is really all about.
Friday, February 16, 2007
BONG-BONG (sniffle)
It's one thing to be sick for over a month, and to start getting better, but not completely, and then to start thinking something far worse is wrong with you.
It's another thing entirely to have a character on Law & Order say that a suspect had the very same malady you anticipate having right before they drove men to murder.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Rest in peace, baby.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
I would have thought that Adult Swim was viewed by enough people that someone in Boston's city hall or their local media or - heaven forfend - some intern in a national media outlet would have recognized the Mooninite character on the guerilla marketing devices placed around that city (and 9 others, where nothing went wrong). Clearly I am am far more into underground culture than I thought possible. Slam poetry and Adult Swim: two things I will watch that apparently no one else in the country does.
(When I first typed that, I wrote "Clam Poetry", which upon further reflection may in fact be more interesting than what was intended. Pearls before swine, indeed.)
Do I think that the Boston officials and media made too much of this event and created the very panic that they sought to quell? Yes. Do I think that the Turner lackeys should have maybe left a business card or some kind of identifier - hell, a phone number? - with their devices? Yes. But do I think the whole thing has gone too far? Yes, absolutely. It would appear either Boston is far more tightly-strung than I was led to believe or someone is aching for a reason to practice martial law.
And with that, I propose everyone turn on the Family Guy marathon tonight following the Uperbowl-Say. Adult Swim, 9pm Central Standard Time. Check your local listings.
Track 4
More and more of my favorite tracks on CDs I've been listening to lately have all been Track 4:
Bruce Springsteen's We Shall Overcome - "O Mary Don't You Weep"
Green Day's American Idiot - "Boulevard Of Broken Dreams"
Louis XIV'sThe Best Little Secrets Are Kept - "God Killed The Queen"
Ali Farka Toure's Savane - Title Cut
The Rolling Stones' Sticky Fingers - "Can't You Hear Me Knocking"
Eugene Mirman's The Absurd Nightclub Comedy Of... - "Jews Need Applause?"
Radiohead's Pablo Honey - "Stop Whispering"
and The Raconteurs' Broken Boy Soldier - "Intimate Secretary"

I realize it's completely subjective, but still, it's kinda weird.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Gotta get back to writing poetry and being disgusted by people. So here we go:
BEST ANIMATED FEATURE
I'm sure there were more animated films this year, and possibly better ones, than just these three. Of these, however, Cars was fun and sweet and well-made. Monster House was fun and nostalgic and in its final fifteen minutes quite scary. And Happy Feet...well, I never saw Happy Feet, but I have a feeling it won't compare based on the simple fact that Robin Williams voiced it in the same way he acts in most films: too much.
So, my vote goes to Monster House, though I figure Cars will win it.

BEST DOCUMENTARY
I feel pretty certain that An Inconvenient Truth will take the documentary category. 'Nuff said.

BEST FORIEGN LANGUAGE FILM
Days of Glory (Indigenes) will take the prize from Pan's Labyrinth with unfettered ease.

ORIGINAL SCORE
Babel.
ORIGINAL SONG
No one really cares, because they'll all be badly performed that night anyway.

ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
Borat winning this category would be a victory for contemporary comedy and mockumentaries. Children of Men or The Departed would be nice for the simple fact that their stories are neatly-packed, densely-coiled drama-thrillers that made excellent films. My choice: Children of Men.

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
Babel, The Queen, Pan's Labyrinth...hell, this is a tough one. But I'll pick Babel for the sheer volume of stuff thrown your way as you watch. But I'd be happy with any of these three winning.

That's it, cinephiles. See you in a month and we'll find out how delightfully close or miserably far off I was.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
ART DIRECTION
All the films nominated were worthwhile, but I feel like The Prestige had the richest set design and overall look.

CINEMATOGRAPHY
Tough call, because all nominees were filmed beautifully despite my dislike for one of them. Still, if I have to choose, I would say it's a three-way tie between Children of Men, Pan's Labyrinth and The Prestige. And since I loved it so, I'm going to lean toward Children of Men.

COSTUME DESIGN
Again, all five nominees were well-dressed. But I'll throw Curse of The Golden Flower the bone. I disliked the movie a great deal, but the costumes were great.

FILM EDITING
Babel would be the narrative choice, but Children of Men gets my vote for its sudden, dramatic edits and seemless sequencing that propelled the story forward.

MAKEUP
One of those categories where there are only three nominees, despite the fact that there were more than enough films with effective makeup (see Visual Effects and Animated Features for more of this cheap trick). Apocalypto will take it, hands down.

SOUND EDITING
The ear-splitting pronunciations of U.S. ships shelling Iwo Jima in Flags of Our Fathers was the most effective sound in theaters last year.

SOUND MIXING
By contrast, the hushed blend of footfalls, thrashing branches, jaguars and arrows whistling through the air made Apocalypto the easy winner in this category.

VISUAL EFFECTS
Well, I can't understand why more or simply better films were not nominated here. But I'll go with Superman Returns. Again, a film I ultimately didn't care about, but of the three nominees, a bullet in the eye goes a long way.

Next: The Rest
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
I'll barrel through these since there are so many...
BEST ACTOR
LEONARDO DICAPRIO - BLOOD DIAMOND
RYAN GOSLING - HALF NELSON
PETER O'TOOLE - VENUS
WILL SMITH - THE PURSUIT OF HAPPYNESS
FOREST WHITAKER - THE LAST KING OF SCOTLAND
Problem 1: I haven't seen any of these films so I have to come at this sideways. Problem 2: Why isn't Leonardo DiCaprio up for The Departed? I had no idea Blood Diamond was as impressive as they have made it out to be.
DiCaprio is one of the best American actors of his generation, so any film promises to be better with him in it. Ryan Gosling is one of the best American actors of his generation that no one knows about. He's been doing searing portrayals for years now and only after Half Nelson did people start to sit up and take notice. Peter O'Toole is an old favorite of mine, and if the ageist sympathy vote takes hold, he'll win it. Will Smith has a nice way of balancing dumb, populist entertainments with deeply-moving dramatic roles, and people genuinely seem to like him. And then there's Forest Whitaker, who I think is one of the best actors out there if you want thinly-veiled, tightly-coiled, wolf-in-sheep's-clothing performances (see his part in the past season of FX's The Shield).
WHO I THINK WILL WIN - FOREST WHITAKER
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN - FOREST WHITAKER (though Ryan Gosling pulling it off would be pretty cool)

BEST ACTRESS
PENELOPE CRUZ - VOLVER
JUDI DENCH - NOTES ON A SCANDAL
HELEN MIRREN - THE QUEEN
MERYL STREEP - THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA
KATE WINSLET - LITTLE CHILDREN
Problem 1: I have only seen two of these films. Solution to Problem 1: It doesn't matter, because I think Helen Mirren owns the category.
Loved Meryl Streep in Prada, though it doesn't feel like the lead role. Love Kate Winslet in anything, but I'm not objective when it comes to Kate Winslet, so let's move on. Judi Dench will have to be happy with her 007 money and her rave reviews for Scandal. Penelope Cruz will have to be happy with her rave reviews and the fact that with Katie Holmes in the bag, she won't be the indirect target of any Tom Cruise jokes on Oscar night.
WHO I THINK WILL WIN - HELEN MIRREN
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN - HELEN MIRREN

BEST ACTOR (SUPPORTING)
ALAN ARKIN - LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
JACKIE EARLE HALEY - LITTLE CHILDREN
DJIMON HOUNSOU - BLOOD DIAMOND
EDDIE MURPHY - DREAMGIRLS
MARK WAHLBERG - THE DEPARTED
Ageist votes could go Arkin's way, but his role was mostly the salty old man in the face of everyone younger than him, which was entertaining but not the most actorly part. Didn't see Little Children. Didn't see Blood Diamond. Eddie Murphy was excellent in his small but pivotal role in Dreamgirls, and I would wager that he wins on sheer charm. But Mark Wahlberg was great in The Departed in the same way William Hurt was great in A History of Violence: tiny, pivotal part, excellent delivery, deserves it but will probably be overlooked.
WHO I THINK WILL WIN - EDDIE MURPHY
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN - MARK WAHLBERG

BEST ACTRESS (SUPPORTING)
ADRIANA BARRAZA - BABEL
CATE BLANCHETT - NOTES ON A SCANDAL
ABIGAIL BRESLIN - LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
JENNIFER HUDSON - DREAMGIRLS
RINKO KIKUCHI - BABEL
Another complaint comes up here: why wasn't Ivana Baquero nominated for Pan's Labyrinth? It really was a lead role, but seeing how the film did get several substantial nominations, would it have been so far off the mark to throw in one for acting? As child actors go, Baquero outdistances Abigail Breslin's acting by miles.
That said, here's the other thing you must understand: powerful singing does not make for powerful acting. Jennifer Hudson was the white-hot core of Dreamgirls, but only when she was singing. Her acting was okay but let's give the award to someone who actually performed their part.
Unfortunately, the person who made the most impact is the least known, and will probably be overlooked: Rinko Kikuchi in Babel. Her performance was one of the most intense in the whole of 2006, and I think she's a good bet.
WHO I THINK WILL WIN - JENNIFER HUDSON
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN - RINKO KIKUCHI

Next: Technical Categories
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
First of all, this is like Superbowl time for me. Cinema is one of my greatest joys and award season, crowned with the Oscars, is when I get to see if justice really can be done in one art form. And trust me, it rarely is. So for the uncaring or bored, go on to the next gig. For film enthusiasts, please read on.
Let's be clear on one point before diving in: there were really no surprises this year (in the major categories, at least). And don't be fooled by the movie pundits saying Dreamgirls should have had a Best Picture nomination. It may have been a rousing film, and may have had a lot of good in it, but it was not a great film. There, I said it.
BEST PICTURE
BABEL
THE DEPARTED
LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA
LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
THE QUEEN
The real glaring omissions here, I think, are United 93, Children of Men and Pan's Labyrinth. But these five are in line with many of the best film of the year rosters that showed up last month. Of these, Little Miss Sunshine is the weakest choice and a clear longshot to win. Letters from Iwo Jima is powerful, no doubt; and director Clint Eastwood has Flags of Our Fathers to back it up. But Flags has a more resounding emotional impact than Letters, and Eastwood won last year for Million Dollar Baby, and the Academy doesn't often award the same guy in consecutive years. This leaves The Queen, which is an almost perfect film anchored by Helen Mirren's terrific portrayal, and The Departed, a film that nicely balances the need for impressive moviemaking with popularity, and could secure Martin Scorsese his long-deserved first Oscar. Oh yeah, and Babel. I loved Babel, but it was a long, hard ride through bleak, depressing territory, and probably deserves to garner acting awards rather than for the film as a whole.
WHO I THINK WILL WIN - THE DEPARTED
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN - THE QUEEN

BEST DIRECTOR
BABEL
THE DEPARTED
LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA
THE QUEEN
UNITED 93
Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's Amores Perros was a clear sign that this guy had immense talent, and Babel is like a vast, epic and alternately intimate version of the most awful story of dominoes falling you could ever quite imagine. Except that he jumps about, never showing where the first domino toppled until very late in the film. It's a grand excursion, if a depressing one, and terribly bleak to counter the grandeur of its varied landscapes.
Martin Scorsese was overlooked for Raging Bull, which many view as his best film, and again for Goodfellas (which I think is his best film), and again and again, year after year. But The Departed will, I hope, be the one to break that streak, and give the guy what we've all been waiting for.
Eastwood, as mentioned above, won last year, but who knows?
Stephen Frears' The Queen and Paul Greengrass' United 93 are both near perfect films, each sewn from quite different mourning cloth. Too soon for a film like United 93? Maybe, but that does not mute the strength of the film. As for The Queen, a quietly affecting story with warm traces of dignity, respect and humor (and a whale of a performance by Helen Mirren), it would be nice to see things go Frears' way.
WHO I THINK WILL WIN - SCORSESE for THE DEPARTED
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN - SCORSESE for THE DEPARTED

Next: Performance Categories
Monday, January 22, 2007
(For The Wife: Valentine's is getting closer...here's a little something from last year to whet the appetite while I work on the annual gift.

For the random reader: in my opinion I'm awful at love poems, but being so intensely in love makes me feel a certain obligation to write them every now and then, and February 14th seems like a good enough deadline for such submissions.)

the pattern of our love

she is partially deaf in her right ear,
and on a bad day, or in a loud venue,
you must expect that she cannot hear you.

I have problems of my own: a ringing
in my right ear which has increased with age,
and like the best of wines, will someday topple me.

the pattern of our love
is two facing each other in an Escher drawing
of necessity, a logistical nirvana of accessibility.

into paradise we will glide, reading each others' lips
while the winds of ending drown out all other voices,
all around us deaf to their own patterns,

and to the world's varied and finite alarms.

-scn, march 20, 2006
Thursday, January 18, 2007
...And Then Huang Says, "How Did That Make You Feel?"
There's nothing quite like simultaneously reading bad poetry and listening to an episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Go to one of the many local poet's websites and check out the date and time of the event you don't plan to attend. Then, while the event is taking place, check your MySpace friends list to see which local poets are not attending that event. Points for finding a poet who actually says they're going to try to make it out to said event when really they just end up sitting at home writing new self-congratulatory blogs. Bonus points if the next day they leave an apologetic MySpace comment for the facilitator of the event saying they really wished they could have made it out.
Fun for the whole family!

Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Apparently yesterday was Coming of Age Day in Japan. I don't know what that means, but I wouldn't want to be on the cleanup crew.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
The Best Films of 2006
I haven't seen Pan's Labyrinth. Or Funky Forest. Or The Good German, The Painted Veil and Children of Men. Or Volver, which by now has been touted so highly that I'm going to have to be in a very forgiving mood if it sucks.
I haven't seen these films and many others, so if you're a cineaste and find my choices to be very very wrong, forgive me, but it's a subjective deal, you know. That's why we watch them. To be had, and then tell others how good it felt.
Here are my choices for the best films of 2006, and I admit to cheating; there are ten slots but multiple films in some of them. Work with me.
10 - APOCALYPTO
Remove Mel Gibson's antics this year, and remove the artsy teaser trailer that arrived months in advance...which had little in common with the film it promoted. What you have is a visually stunning, visceral and highly engrossing tale of a young man fighting his way back home to save his wife and children. The movie felt at times like early Herzog crossed with George Miller's worst nightmares, but on foot rather than some Rube Goldbergian hotrod. An unexpected surprise.
9 - THE DESCENT
An absolutely frightening experience, from the crushing claustrophobia of its characters squeezing through unbearably small cave tunnels to the horrific surprise they find when they get too far in to turn back. Viscera wins again, but the haunting aspect of the film stays with you long after the end.
8 - FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS
Letters From Iwo Jima is another of the movies I have yet to see, and if the global chorus is accurate, it will end up on next year's list of 2006 movies seen in 2007. But Flags was a surprisingly powerful film that I'm afraid isn't going to see the wider audiences many of director Clint Eastwood's films has reached, which is too bad.
7 - DEAD MAN'S SHOES
With the casual threat of violence found in the very best verite-style films (I'm thinking Man Bites Dog) and the actual swift, retributive delivery of said violence, Dead Man's Shoes creeps up like its alleged protagonist, watching the men he plans to avenge himself upon, and attacks without warning. Paddy Considine gives the performance of the year with just a cold glimmer in his eyes and a determination that is more frightening than any masked killer Hollywood has ever dreamed up. Again with the violence, I know. But watch the film and then tell me you aren't impressed.
6 - SHORTBUS / SORRY, HATERS
Two very independent films that were so powerful (in very different ways) that I considered myself lucky to have viewed them.
Shortbus is touted as a sexual film, but take out all the sex and what you have is a deeply emotional film about human connectivity, and all the ways people succeed (and more often fail) in the simplest acts of communication.
Sorry, Haters might just be the most powerful film of the year, but it's so deeply painful and was viewed by so few people, you probably won't hear about it from anyone else. Robin Wright-Penn gives the most shattering performance of her career as a deeply troubled woman who gets involved with a Muslim taxi driver with horrible results. It's one of those films that you think you have pegged, but the damned thing twists away from you and kicks you right in the gut.
5 - CASINO ROYALE / MIAMI VICE / THE PRESTIGE
Class acts, all. Don't be fooled by the mainstream trappings. Each of these films were creative, powerful and in many ways re-tooled the elements and methods of a thousand similar movies in years past ... and a few from this year, as well.
Casino Royale is perhaps the best Bond film ever made, Daniel Craig and a darker, more bastardly tone the primary reasons why. But beyond the Bond formula, you have a great film about the very human "blunt instrument" of espionage that so frequently gets the invincible treatment. And the thing was fun, too. What more could you want?
Miami Vice is ... well, first off, I am fairly certain Michael Mann cannot make a bad film. Remove the memory of a Friday night watching NBC's most glam crime show, and what you have is a gritty, tough piece of crime film. Glossy in a darker, meaner way, it gives some guts and muscle to a concept that could have gone very, very badly from small to large screen.
The Prestige is the "magic movie" that could. Its characters, plot and gimmicks were top-notch, and even the most predictable moments didn't taste so bad. And any film starring David Bowie as Nikolai Tesla deserves every kind word it gets.
4 - THE PROPOSITION
Viscera again, yes, I know. This throwback to harsh, bloody westerns where the human condition butts heads with the thirst for vengeance was another film I doubt many people saw.
3 - BABEL / THE DEPARTED / THE QUEEN
Here we have three films that all wore the bright sash that reads "you're supposed to think this is good", and in a month we'll see just how effective that saying was. These are films that are award winners, no doubt. Fortunately, they were also all excellent films.
Babel is the follow-up to Amores Perros that 21 Grams simply couldn't be. If you've seen all three films you know what I mean. An interconnected series of situations that all seem very, very bleak until the last, oh, ten minutes of the film, Babel is supposed to be about how our actions impact those the farthest from us, but really it's about how the language we speak and the intentions we bear mean nothing if those we rail at cannot understand us. It is a long and painful road, but at the end you don't feel beaten up by the experience.
The Departed is Martin Scorsese's return to the crime genre, one of my personal favorites of 2006, and surprisingly, a remake (of the highly touted Hong Kong drama Infernal Affairs). It also contains the best acting by Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon, who are fast becoming their generation's best hope for a class act.
The Queen is quite simply perfect, and I'm placing the wager now that Helen Mirren will walk away free and clear with the Best Actress statuette at Oscar time. The tale of Queen Elizabeth's and newly-elected Prime Minister Tony Blair's reactions and actions in the face of Lady Diana's death is both intimate and grand. It maintains a respectful view toward the royal family while pointing up the missteps in their handling of a public response to the loss. A film with a steady and subtle sense of humor and emotionally honest insights into characters who we only see as stoic heads of state on TV, The Queen delivers all the very best elements a film can strive for.
2 - UNITED 93
Completely enthralling, very painful and perhaps made too soon, but made damn near perfectly by director Paul Greengrass (who made the eerily similar Bloody Sunday), this seeming documentary follows the actions of two fronts during the events of 9/11: the men and women trapped by circumstance on the titular airline (which we know is destined to crash, killing all aboard), and the men and women (both military and civilian) on the ground who are tracking the events of that morning. No film this year seemed as immediate and as gripping.
1 - INSIDE MAN / WHEN THE LEVEES BROKE: A REQUIEM IN FOUR ACTS
The year's top honors go to Spike Lee, a filmmaker who can excel in multiple genres in the same year.
With Inside Man, Lee creates a loving homage to seventies heist films yet retains a mood, tone and pace all his own. With crackerjack performances by all involved, it managed to be the most entertaining film of the year while honoring a slew of others that have mostly been ignored by a new generation of moviegoers.
However, it was with When The Levees Broke that Lee managed to get a message across, and that's what he seems to do best, with simple but resolute flair. In examining the devastation of New Orleans by Hurricane Katrina, Lee filmed area citizens, military leaders and civic authorities, and gathers so much in the way of deeply felt emotional heft that the four-hour program can be at times overwhelming. But it is a masterpiece, a work that should be remembered long after best lists and celebrity fade.
I humbly salute Spike Lee for creating the two best films of 2006, and in the process, covering all the bases.

Thank you for reading these lists. If you can extract from them something good, or fun, or cool, and can enjoy or appreciate someone's work because you read it here, then I've done my job.
See you in 2007.
Happy New Year, and best wishes to you and your families.
Steve Norwood / Controlled Burning
Runners-up: Best Films of 2006
Getting closer now. Here are some of the films that were solid in 2006. Not the best, but definitely worth watching. To save time I will keep the quips to a minimum:
All The King's Men
Borat: Cultural Learnings Of America For Make Benefit Glorious Nation Of Kazakhstan - This and the second Jackass film made me laugh out loud and louder than anything in years.
Cars
The Devil Wears Prada
Drawing Restraint 9 - Not so much a movie as a museum exhibit...a precise work of art so confounding that all you can do is sit back and see what happens.
Game 6 - A real writer's film.
The Great Yokai War - Takashi Miike's apocalyptic Sesame Street.
The Illusionist
The Night Listener
Over The Hedge
Subject Two - A hard-to-find, deeply independent horror film about a man who...well, you find it and we'll talk.
Takeshis' - Kitano's most elaborate trick.
The Tenants
Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story
The U.S. vs. John Lennon - Watch this and tell me things have changed. I dare you.
Unknown White Male
V For Vendetta
The World's Fastest Indian
Next: Finally, the very best films of 2006.
Best Movies of 2006....That Weren't From 2006
Every year something carries over to the next. I live in the Dallas area, you see, so those films released only on either coast at the end of the year, or those with extremely brief or poor distribution, or those I simply couldn't get to for some feeble reason, get missed. Here, in alphabetical order, are my favorite films of 2006 that were actually from 2005:
Cache - A pure and chilling piece of dread. A family begins receiving tapes of their home, which is being watched by someone who clearly holds a grudge. But against who, and for what reason? And what does the viewer want? An absolutely brilliant, frightening film.
Clean - Maggie Cheung's performance has been touted for its power, and rightly so. But watch for Nick Nolte's smaller supporting role, perhaps some of his finest work.
The New World - A beautiful, beautiful film, filled with moments of violence and long passages of worldess calm. And laugh if you want about Colin Ferrell playing the lead, but in the right film (see Tigerland and this year's Miami Vice), he is compelling and completely natural.
On A Clear Day - The tale of a troubled man who decides to swim the English Channel to purge his demons, this movie has the sort of honest feel-good quality that Hollywood films always get wrong. It is feel-good without sap, which Hollywood has in abundant supply.
Rampo Noir - A Japanese "horror" film, but not the kind you would expect. An anthology of four stories that are shown more than they are told, it is a minor masterpiece of image, color, shadow and fear. If you want quick easy scares that you can shrug off with a nervous laugh, stay far away from this movie, for it will drill down inside your brain and nest its troubles inside you.
Sympathy for Lady Vengeance - Chan-Wook Park's final episode in the revenge trilogy, which started with Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance and Oldboy, is a glorious piece of filmmaking. Vibrant, giddy and ultimately emotionally wrecking, it is one of my personal favorites of the past two years.
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada - Tommy Lee Jones' directorial debut was a stunner, mostly in how such an epic tale could be told in cramped diners, stuffy motel rooms and on horseback, wandering down isolated Mexican arroyos.
All of these are available on DVD, and most through Netflix, though I can't say how many you will find at your local Blockbuster.
Enjoy.
Next: The Solid Seconds of 2006.
Friday, December 29, 2006
The Worst Films of 2006
Each year I have to preface this one with a clarification: it's more fun to write about the worst movies not because they were bad, as in the case of subgenre schlock like See No Evil and The Hills Have Eyes remake (both of which I admit paying money to see), but because of how disappointing the films that errored out really were. You can create a very long list of crap movies, slasher flicks and stupid, humorless comedies that are in no way enjoyable; what really counts here are the films that set out to be something important or great or in some way solidly affecting, but stumbled so badly that they were painful to watch. These are, in alphabetical order, my worst films of 2006:
An American Haunting - true tale of a Puritan home's haunting by vengeful ghosts, or a latter-day screed against sexual abuse? Guess what? It doesn't matter, because it was awful. Predictable and silly, not particularly scary, and a shame that actors like Sissy Spacek and Donald Sutherland couldn't enliven the damned thing.
Ask The Dust - Robert Towne's disappointing take on John Fante's depression-era novel, with surprisingly poor turns by stars Colin Ferrell and Salma Hayek. The mood was right, but the story drags on and makes you actually not want to read books.
The Big White - Mark Mylod's supremely unfunny tale of a travel agent (Robin Williams) and his c-c-c-crazy wife (Holly Hunter), caught up in a tale of faked deaths, missing corpses and insurance fraud. I don't know if I've ever put Holly Hunter and worst in the same paragraph before.
Friends With Money - Nicole Holofcener directed this film, which at first glance has loads of potential: a cast of terrific female actresses, an interesting examination of social and class structures in contemporary America, and Jennifer Aniston in a French maid outfit. But woe be to the viewer who expects something good from this bitches brew of unpleasantness. There is the occasional ring of truth in the film, but it's so deeply drowned out by the whining, screeching and groaning of unrepentantly terrible characters that you just want the thing to end.
The Great New Wonderful - The Mild Bland Indifferent.
Lonesome Jim - I love Steve Buscemi, and his directorial stints have been very good to this point. But Lonesome Jim is the cinematic equivalent to a monotone. It is a horrible film with nothing to show.
Looking For Comedy In The Muslim World - Albert Brooks has a terrific track record for funny. He didn't bring it to this film.
Mozart and The Whale - A film about people with Autism? Sure, why not. A film filled with the oldest stereotypes of bouncing, moaning, screeching retards? Oh dear.
...and the Worst Film of 2006...
The Black Dahlia / Ultraviolet (TIE)
Yes, last year was a four-way tie, and this year the chips fall that way again as two films so wrongheaded and filled with fault duke it out for the top spot.
Brian DePalma has been known to make good and bad films, but The Black Dahlia should have been a no-brainer: solid cast, spiffy noir stylings, an unsolved mystery. All the elements for a film that if nothing else should have at least been enjoyable. But Dahlia was filled with repugnant characters, predictable twists and an ending that resolves the touted "unsolved mystery".
However, Ultraviolet has no such aspirations. It is the antithesis of the formula film in that it has many familar elements but a complete lack of cohesion. Matrix-style fights? Check. Computer graphics to excess? Check. Bad performances by actors you expect nothing from anyway (William Fichtner excluded)? Check. Silly, ridiculous and badly made, Ultraviolet is a cinematic affront.

Next: Best Films of 2006 that were from 2005
And Now, Our Feature Presentation!
Movies are my favorite thing, second to writing, but movies are (for me) frequently far less painful and frustrating than writing, so I place them on a much shinier pedestal.
The other BEST lists are brief so that I can throw all my weight against the beast that is the movie lists. There are many, and if you don't care, you won't finish them. This will take a few days to complete, so bear with me.
Here we go...
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Best Music of 2006
CDs released in 2006.
Best CD of the Year:
ORPHANS - Tom Waits (anti-)
Runners-up:
Broken Boy Soldiers - The Raconteurs (third man)
We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions - Bruce Springsteen (columbia)
Savane - Ali Farka Toure (world circuit/nonesuch)
Shortbus - Soundtrack (team love)
The Eraser - Thom Yorke (xl)
The U.S. vs. John Lennon - Soundtrack (emi)
Favorite CDs I heard in 2006 for the first time:
The Best Little Secrets Are Kept - Louis XIV (atlantic)
Beggars Banquet - The Rolling Stones (abkco)
Death By Sexy - Eagles of Death Metal
Blinking Lights - eels (vagrant)
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Best Television of 2006
This covers entire seasons taking place within 2006.
Best Show of the Year:
DEADWOOD (HBO)
Runners-up:
The Shield (FX)
The Sopranos (HBO)
Metalocalypse (Adult Swim)
Sorry, fans of 24 and The Wire. You backed the wrong horse.
Best Game of 2006
This doesn't have to take long.
Best Game of the Year:
GEARS OF WAR (Xbox 360)
Runners-up:
Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion (Xbox 360)
Bully (PS2)
Now that didn't hurt, did it?
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Scenarios Describing The Failure of The Service Industry
Scenario 1:
We are at a slightly upscale Italian restaurant, celebrating The Wife's birthday. We have all courses and enjoy a delightful time. The server has been quick and helpful and pleasant. She brings the bill, and I see that there is an entree that we did not order; one that increases the bill's total by a quarter. I ask for the item to be removed, and it takes forever, but they are apologetic and all seems fine. The next day, the larger, wrong amount shows up on the Visa account, and it takes a call to a manager to clear matters up.

Scenario 2:
The Wife, my son and I eat at a Ft. Worth restaurant that no one is enjoying very much. I pay for a $42 bill with $50. The remaining $8 never comes back. We wait and I finally catch the eye of the server, asking for my change. She smiles, caught in an assumption that leaves her the recipient of an even smaller tip than I had planned to leave.

Scenario 3:
I drive to a local Sonic to grab two breakfast burritos for The Wife and I. I pay for $5.61 with $6. Usually, Sonic employees immediately generate change and scurry away, but I was handed two receipts and no change. I pressed the buzzer a moment later and asked for my change (which should have been $0.39), and a smiling young man walked out and handed me $0.75. Deceptive and stupid? You make the call.

There is a basic conceit that all good customer service handlers must remember: it's my money until I say otherwise. If I don't tell you to keep the change, you better bring it the fuck back. And if you're putting a charge on my card, make sure it's right the first time. Each time I have to try to get you to get it right again, my estimation of your establishment drops by degrees.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
The Lists Are Coming
...and I'm pretty excited, too.
It's that time of year, so soon I will be putting my best/worst/favorites lists up for all the fun stuff in 2006. Not to mention a few observations on the year.
Until then, here is the official "have a wonderful Christmas & New Year's, and a safe, happy and healthy 2007" wish to everyone out there on the interweb, from Controlled Burning.
Wassail, bitches!
"Which one is it?"
"It's the one that says Bad Motherfucker."
Today, the one-and-only Samuel L. Jackson turns a shocking 58 years old. He doesn't look like a man nearing retirement.
Alongside him today are fellow celebrity electrodes Phil Donahue (71) and Keifer Sutherland (40). Or as I like to call him, Donald Sutherland's son, who also apparently acts.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Holy Mackerel! or, I'll Have The Salmon, Ella
Catching up is so very hard to do when you just don't give a shit.
For the better part of the last month I've been sick. Started out as sinus, then bronchitis, then strep, then a cough that wouldn't let go, then sinus and bronchitis, and it all started with what I believe was a dandy case of food poisoning.
That last claim is based solely on the fact that one minute 4 weeks ago The Wife and I were feeling fine, and then after one meal we were both shitting like rabid mongooses (mongi?). And from there it all went downhill.
My cough could have been a matter of public record, had I followed through on a plan to see Patton Oswalt in Austin on December 2nd. He was recording his next CD that weekend, and I could have assured that my hack-hack-hack of a dry, bronchial cough would have been the house music behind his show. But smarter instincts prevailed and we stayed home that weekend, huddled under blankets as snow fell on Dallas. The cough is the only thing that has lingered to this day, and it's an ornery cuss. I'm hoping by Christmas I'll be fully rejuvenated once more, but I'm not laying any bets down on that one.
During this time my writing has dropped off to null-set, and I bought an Xbox 360, so my kill-alien-commandos quotient has risen sharply. Frankly, I'm just stressed out and bored, so I go to the easiest diversions. Law & Order, Gears of War...I'm a fucking sight.
I haven't even felt inclined to go see many movies, so you know I've been ill. Tonight I broke the curse and saw Apocalypto, which was quite good, despite having none of the artistic qualities found in its initial teaser trailer. The film actually plays out like a cross between early Herzog dramas and George Miller doing an action movie where everyone is on foot instead of in Rube Goldbergian wasteland vehicles.
Accompanied The Wife to her company's Christmas dinner/party. It was a nice affair, though not exactly what I would call a gangbuster night. I had the salmon.
But it was the whiskey that made things seem all better. The whiskey, and the antibiotics.
...for want of a bird, the sky was lost...
Monday, November 20, 2006
Hey, Buddy!
In a world...
Saturday, November 18, 2006
NEW INDUCTEES INTO THE PIECE-OF-SHIT HALL OF FAME
(personal histories extracted from Wikipedia)
O.J. Simpson

Orenthal James Simpson (born July 9, 1947, San Francisco, California), publicly known by his initials as O.J., and nicknamed The Juice, is an American former college and professional football player and film actor.

Football career

High school
At Galileo High School in San Francisco, Simpson played for the school's football team, the Galileo Lions.

College
Simpson won the Heisman Trophy in 1968 while playing for the University of Southern California.

NFL
Simpson was drafted by the National Football League's Buffalo Bills, who got first pick in the 1969 draft after finishing 1-12-1 in 1968. Early in his NFL career, Simpson struggled on poor Buffalo teams, averaging only 622 yards per season. He first rushed for 1,000 yards in 1972. In 1973, Simpson erupted with a then-record 2,003 yards, becoming the first player ever to pass the 2,000-yard mark.

Acting

After his retirement from football, Simpson went on to a successful film career with parts in films such as the television mini-series Roots, and the motion pictures The Cassandra Crossing, Capricorn One, The Klansman, The Towering Inferno, Back to the Beach, and The Naked Gun trilogy. Simpson was considered for the lead role in The Terminator, before it was decided audiences might not accept him as a villain because he was perceived as too "nice".
Simpson's amiable persona and natural charisma landed him numerous endorsement deals. He was a spokesman for the Hertz rental car company (Ford vehicles are usually found in Hertz rental fleets, hence the nickname 'Simpsons' for the cars). He would often be shown running through airports, as if to suggest he was back on the football field. Simpson was spokesman for the pX Corporation, and he appeared in comic book ads for Dingo shoes.
Besides his acting career, Simpson had stints as a commentator for Monday Night Football and The NFL on NBC. He also hosted an episode of Saturday Night Live, but he was the only host not invited to attend the program's 25th anniversary celebration special in 1999.

Filmography
• Medical Center (TV series) episode The Last 10 Yards (1969)
• Cade's County (TV series) episode Blackout (1972)
• The Dream of Hamish Mose (unreleased) (1973)
• Why (unreleased) (1973)
• Here's Lucy (TV series) episode The Big Game (1973)
• The Klansman (1974)
• O.J. Simpson: Juice on the Loose (made for TV) (1974)
• The Towering Inferno (1974)
• The Cassandra Crossing (1976)
• Killer Force aka The Diamond Mercenaries (1976)
• A Killing Affair aka Behind the Badge (made for TV) (1977)
• ROOTS (TV mini-series) (1977)
• Capricorn One (1978)
• Firepower (1979)
• Goldie and the Boxer (made for TV) (1979)
• Detour to Terror (made for TV) (1980)
• Goldie and the Boxer Go to Hollywood• Cocaine and Blue Eyes (made for TV) (1983)
• Hambone and Hillie (1984)
• 1st & Ten (TV series) episodes Blood on Blood (1987) Mind Games (1989)
• Back to the Beach (1987)
• Student Exchange (made for TV) (1987)
• The Naked Gun aka The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad! (1988)
• In the Heat of the Night (TV series) episode Walkout (1989)
• The Naked Gun 2½: The Smell of Fear (1991)
• CIA Code Name: Alexa (1993)
• No Place to Hide (1993)
• Frogmen (unaired TV pilot) (1994)
• The Naked Gun 33?:The Final Insult (1994)
• Juiced with O.J. Simpson (TV pay-per-view) (2006)

Judith Regan

Judith Regan (born 1953 in Massachusetts) is an American book publisher.

Regan graduated from Bay Shore High School, on Long Island (where she grew up), in 1971.
She attended Vassar College, receiving her A.B. degree in 1975.

In 1978, while working as a secretary at Harvard, Regan answered a newspaper ad for a reporter for The National Enquirer. She got the job.

In the early 1980s, Regan relocated to New York City. In 1987 she approached Simon & Schuster with an idea for a book, a study of the average American family, with Ozzie and Harriet as its centerpiece. The editor at Pocket Books didn't want the book, but hired Regan to work for the company as a consultant. She soon had a string of successes: Drew Barrymore's Little Girl Lost, Kathie Lee Gifford's I Can't Believe I Said That!, and celebrity autobiographies such as those of Rush Limbaugh and Howard Stern.

In 1994 News Corporation CEO Rupert Murdoch gave Regan her own subdivision at HarperCollins called ReganBooks. She later had a show on News Corp's Fox News Channel called Judith Regan Tonight, which is no longer on the air.
Another In A String Of Dumbass Moves
Used to be, you picked on Miramax for its dumbass cinematic moves (see their treatment of almost any Asian film, from dub to soundtrack to distribution strategy), but now we get to zero in on The Weinstein Co., as the brothers W have apparently signed an exclusivity deal with Blockbuster Corp. for the rental rights to all their films. This means if you're a Netflix devotee, like those here at Casa de Controlled Burning, you're fucked when Bobby hits DVD (for example). You miss it in the theater, you gotta play with the corporate censor bureau. Not that I'm saying the Dubs would allow their films to be edited for rental use, but it seems odd anyone so devoted to "quality" cinema would do a deal with a company that isn't exactly the best with free expression of the art. And they're not terribly discerning, either...you won't be able to find a copy of Shortbus at BB, but you can find any number of execrable slasher flicks that have nothing in common other than a fetish for ways to show the human body turned inside out.
Now, I'm not against violence in films, but there is a certain hypocrisy in the U.S. that Blockbuster definitely adheres to where violence in all its horrific, myriad forms is acceptable for distribution, but mature content, be it cultural, societal, sexual or physchological, is frequently shown the door. Especially sexual. But this is nothing new. And it's not going to be for some time, even with a renewed Demo base. Don't think this is about politics; this is about people lazily making choices and allowing things to be removed from the purview, and that's going to keep us on the path to becoming the most bland and unoffensive country of spoiled, uptight, capitalistic and selfish faith-based warmongers on the planet.
Now, did I just circle back to say that the Weinstein brothers are impacting all of American society? Perhaps I did.
Baby steps, people. They go both ways.
Monday, January 22, 2007
American Boy
"He was doing a year for contempt and had a very good system for the garlic."
Happy 64th birthday to Martin Scorsese.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Gold-Encrusted Capsules of Life!
This week I was shocked in a way I have not been for some time now. I am 42 years down and it's rare that something makes me cry out at injustice, failure and madness. But this did:
I've talked at length about my guts. Short version: ulcerative colitis, managed by meds. The meds I take, a delightfully grand capsule called Colozal, is about the size of a waif's pinkie. I take eight of these, four in the morning and four in the evening.
At my last visit, I requested that my doctor write out an extended prescription that I could in turn use with my insurance company's mail-order meds program. You get 90 days of meds at a phenomenally low rate, like a co-pay or a small dinner for two.
Yesterday the package arrived. The box could have contained, oh, a football, as the size of the capsules required bottles that were roughly the size of said waif's head. Don't ask where I keep coming across these little waifs; they're out there. Three waif-head sized bottles of 240 (8 pills X 30 days) waif-pinkie sized capsules (each) to govern my intestinal wreckage. My cost: $20.00.
But if you read all the way down the manifesto that arrived with the meds, you saw the actual cost of the capsules. A shocking number, in my view, and one that caused me to stare gape-mouthed at The Wife for several moments before repeating the number two or three times.
$893.00.
That's right. I'm choking down $9.92 of this stuff each day, but it only cost me $0.22 a day.
I try to imagine someone without insurance attempting to resolve their ulcerative colitis and shaking their head when payment is requested. I try to imagine that week I went without coverage, how I got hit with the $6000 emergency room bill because of a timely, errant kidney stone, and how that turned out. I try to imagine The Wife's meds, my meds, all the household meds, and what they would cost us if we weren't employed, or not covered, or just not bringing down the sums we do. I can't imagine it.
I don't think I'm in the loftiest financial strata by any means, but I am pretty goddam pleased to be able to throw down Andrew Jackson and get three months of piece of mind.
I suppose the lesson here, if their must be one to dampen the outrage, is: find a job and get some basic medical, for god's sake. Do yourself a fuckin' favor.
You never know when an organ is going to test its warranty.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Conceivable!
Wallace Shawn turns 63 today. Happy birthday, you American Icon, you!
[Rex The Green Dinosaur image omitted due to copyright infringement threat from Disney/Pixar corporate legal team]
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Ouch...
God must have had a hard-on for talent in the past week or so. We've lost Arthur Hill, Adrienne Shelly, Ed Bradley, Jack Palance, Gerald Levert and Basil Poledouris.
On the up-side, Roy Scheider turned 74 yesterday, Jonathan Winters is 81 and Stanley Tucci 46 today, and Britney Spears is going to be a single mom, so irony is not at a premium after all.
Long live irony. And long live poor losers. They are more fun than playdoh and lincoln logs combined. You know, to insulate your log cabins, you use the playd-...nevermind. Last week we had Kanye West making a spoiled cry for help as he whined about not winning a European video award, and this week, we have Faith Hill blowing her stack at the Country Music Awards. Sweet, sweet little Carrie Underwood took the female vocalist award and Hill's facial reaction and huffy antics were priceless. Hill had the reaction of someone who was certain they had won, and perhaps had placed a tidy sum on the win in Vegas, as she already had her arms outstretched in victory seconds after Underwood's name was announced. If you get gleeful butterflies in your tummy when someone publicly shows their emotional ass, try "Faith Hill Loses It At CMAs", or a similar search on YouTube.
Tee-hee!
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Let Me Clarify
This one goes out to the ladies...and I mean specifically Cristina, Alexandra, Rosie, Catlyn, Donna, Carin, Missy, Tulip, Molly, Angie and Bethany:
It's not that I don't like attractive women. I married an attractive women, so I know where my head's at.
But on MySpace, when a cluster of new friend requests come through and they all bear the images of too-hot womens, I know I'm about to be played by some savage sex-coated spam engine. And I just don't have the endurance for that scenario.
So you get denied. I'm not saying don't try, but know that if you are a sexy little engine that could, I will send you to The Pile of Denial.
Hugs and kisses!
Monday, October 30, 2006
CB/TMI: That Shit Is Expensive!
(In today's mail)
CorpoLab
"We test your bodily secretions, so you don't have to!"

Laboratory Bill
Description Charges
Fecal Fat, Qualitative Analysis 99.00
White Blood Calls (WBC), Stool Study 59.00
Clostridium Difficile Culture 78.00
Ova / Parasite Exam 186.00
Total 422.00
Insurance Payments 324.34
You Pay 97.66
DUE UPON RECEIPT
***
So, what have we learned from the extensive intestinal study that took place 30 days ago?
1) You may not like scooping up samples of your poop, but you'll never smell anything so sweet as those negative (read: good) results.
2) Insurance will pay for 76% of your shit.

Halloween Film Fest, 2006
So my son and I gathered a batch of movies for the weekend, our annual Halloween film festival. For your cinematic edification, here was the roster:
Monster House (2006 - dir: Gil Kenan) - Very fun, very amusing, and the scare effects of the titular abode are quite imaginative and effective. A good flick all around.
Mimic (1997 - dir: Guillermo del Toro) - Nifty bug flick from the acclaimed Mexican director of Cronos, Blade 2 and The Devil's Backbone. Watch mid-level actors get chewed on by man-sized evolving cockroaches. Whee!
The Lost Boys (1987 - dir: Joel Schumacher) - How did the director of this quick, hollow enterprise end up making Tigerland? The latter film's strength and depth of content seems an unfair fluke compared to most of Schumacher's oeuvre. But for teen-friendly vampire movies, it works just fine. And it has a perfect ending.
Dark City (1998 - dir: Alex Proyas) - The visually stout director of The Crow - who managed to give some umph to the Will Smith version of I, Robot - here creates a perfectly twisted little scenario: a dying alien race controls a city of humans to seek out the mysteries of the soul, and one man attempts to uncover the secrets of his own past and finds it inextricably linked to theirs. Roger Ebert claimed this the best film of the year, and it holds up after repeated viewings. Excellent stuff.
Invasion of The Body Snatchers (1978 - dir: Philip Kaufman) - A relentlessly creepy and paranoia-inducing remake of a 1950s science fiction/horror classic. Great job with genre material by the director of such arthouse calamities as The Unbearable Lightness of Being and Henry & June, and the always very uncalamitous masterpiece The Right Stuff.
The Shining (1980 - dir: Stanley Kubrick) - Remove any memory of the Stephen King novel you might have in your head and you'll get a kick out of master director Kubrick's playful nastiness. With very few false moves, it's a creepy goddam story that almost completely works as a crazy man/ghost story that comes up behind you and then places an axe squarely in your chest. Yay, art.
***
I've been trying to move my son slowly into more mature fare as we've watched movies together over these past years. You show your kid his first Kubrick and you kind of hope he'll react with a certain reverance it took you a few decades to cultivate. It's not realistic, but you hope.
So, Friday nights are usually our DVD nights, and I try to mix the fun/action-oriented stuff with the more cultivated, more thoughtful and cinematically enduring types of films. So for every Annapolis, I try to fit in a Casablanca. For every Chronicles of Riddick, I find a Some Like It Hot. And for each XXX, there's a Dirty Dozen. When he's old enough we'll venture into Godfather territory, as well as quite a few other verboten lands. But it's nice to know he at least has some interest in these different types of film, even if he does fall back on the Jurassic Parks and Kirsten Dunst vehicles of the film world.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
my name's sake
my name's sake

have I no heritage
of which to speak?
just the northern woods of
my namesake,
the forests that have set their roots
throughout my veins,
so profoundly that paper becomes my path
and my words ride out
my heritage,
and you will hear me speak
from the depths of that thing.

-scn, march 5, 2006
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Ah, Victory!
I learned today that I won the 2006 Poetry Superhighway Poetry Contest, facilitated by Rick Lupert over at www.poetrysuperhighway.com. Came in first place and carried away a tidy sum, something I rarely do.
As I mentioned to Rick in an e-mail earlier today, as a writer you forget that there is something other than a rejection slip waiting for you down some of these roads. It capped off a crappy work day with a bright and happy crown of puppies and balloons. Wow, that was an interesting image. Imagine me with all those puppies and balloons on my head.
The weirdest part is that I had forgotten that the contest results were to be announced this past weekend, and wouldn't have realized I had won if the check had not shown up in the mail. Let me publicly thank Rick, his crack team of judges and all the contributors to the contest's prize list. Each year people donate loads of stuff, so much so that every entrant walks away with some small token. And some not so small.
I've been submitting to the PSH contest for years; tied for second place back in 2000. But this really was a treat, and I think it's okay to have a Snoopy-victory-dance moment. Basking in the gleam of joy is getting to be a rare commodity, so I relish this moment, intensely. Indeed.
And tomorrow, we start again.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Limbaugh's Hidden Comedy File
Here's some of the material that Rush Limbaugh did not use when speaking about Michael J. Fox's Parkinson's disease this past Monday:
"I hear his favorite restaurant is Shakey's Pizza."
"I understand he loves the flavor of Shake 'n' Bake."
"He's a huge U2 fan; his favorite CD is Rattle and Hum."
"Also, I understand he is a big Seth Green and Vin Diesel fan...his favorite film is Knockaround Guys."
In case you missed class yesterday:
Rush Limbaugh = asshole
This is not geometry, but it is a mathematical constant.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
The Shameless Act of a Conservative Lapdog
Rush Limbaugh made the asshole A-list Monday when he claimed that Michael J. Fox's physical motions brought on by Parkinson's disease were "exaggerated" and "an act".
Mr. Limbaugh had seen commercial ads Fox appeared in for support of stem cell research. "He's moving all around and shaking, and it's purely an act. ...This is really shameless of Michael J. Fox."
Well, nice of Limbaugh to get one thing right. Something shameless was happening, but it wasn't the actor's condition.
Later he claimed Fox was simply shilling for Democratic causes, but the damage was already done. Anyone who can't see a shameless, desperate ploy for attention in Limbaugh's insensitive words has really gone too far in their own beliefs of anything their party says. Do we have to sully everything that exists? Does some poor bastard's physical condition have to become a tactical device in a political game? It really is beyond tasteless, beyond sad, beyond excuse.
Shame on you, Mr. Limbaugh. Didn't anyone ever tell you to pick on someone your own size?
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Material, Indeed
Madonna adopting an African child. Sigh.
This story lends itself to the theory that celebrities only do something to be noticed.
Why, in this case, does Madonna need to adopt a child from a dusky locale in Africa, when certainly there must be thousands of orphans in the U.K. and America from which she could pick, dependent on which country she claims as her current homebase.
Quietly going down to the local town hall and processing the usual adoption papers was surely an option if she in fact had some maternal energies that were going to dissolve before a specified date and time. But like Oprah laying seige to a boutique after hours, I'm fairly certain Madonna felt that obtaining a child from a country where hardship would seem to be the word of the day was a bold, very high-profile thing to do. And it has gained her more emphatic press than both of her last two CDs combined.
Or, perhaps she just favors imports over those domestic options.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
gut-level
gut-level

the encounter
(like the knife)
was short,
pointed

the blade,
placed swiftly
at gut-level,
was like pushing
a (belly) button

I unfolded the wallet
and spread the leather
wide,
a simple enough offering

he scooped out the paper
-dollars and francs-
and moved away quickly
without running

my body had turned
still and cold,
as I recall

I figured I was
very lucky,
just losing
a handful of bills

my ex,
(then) not my ex,
was mewling helplessly
little silent, whimpering
cries of "oh, no" and "no"
and my name

she was doing us
no good then,
but why should a crisis
have been any different
from every other day?

I'm cruel:
fact is, I was lucky…
the thief was a young kid,
either an american or
very well-schooled
in the general dialect,
and he was almost
-almost-
as gut-level scared
as I was,
the possibilities
of how wrong
it all could have gone
brilliant
in the tunnel's
dim lighting

my sister told me
days before
she'd never had problems
with crime in the city,
and I let that
implied promise
lull me

I tried to enjoy a vacation
with someone I was loving
less and less,
rather,
someone I was realizing
more and more
that I never loved enough
to begin with

that gut-level reaction
hadn't kicked in soon enough
for me
then, either

my new wife
has killed men,
destroyed cities
and blotted out
a billion stars

this isn't enough
to prevent me,
however,
from feeling
still and cold
when faced with
a silver blade
that quivers
at my belly.

-scn, november 19, 2000
Point Of Entry, or The Hole Story
As a man, you hear a lot of stories about colonoscopy and it becomes a kind of grey golem, the kind of unpleasant possibility you hope to never face but some inevitability stands clear. You reach a certain age and know that it's coming for you.
Fortunately, it is also something that can provide clarity and calm when the results are good, or at least certain.
In my case, at 42 years I have spent the last few with some problems I assumed were anxiety related and unpleasant but manageable, and certainly not debilitating. But there comes a time when you can only sit for so much of something, and you see doctors and have tests run and samples and biopsies taken. And you cross fingers and wish for good odds.
So I finally had to have a colonoscopy done, and figured at this age (a few years off from the new caution norm of 45) it would be good to know what I don't have...and maybe find out what I do, too.
So the test itself was easier, quicker and far less uncomfortable than I ever could have imagined. It was, in fact, something that went so smoothly, for the first few hours afterward I was infused with a false bravado ("come on, fucker, I'll take you on every other week!"). But once my head cleared, I was just glad it was done.
And some immediate answers given.
I was diagnosed with an IBD - inflammatory bowel disease - called ulcerative colitis. Which basically mean small ulcerations exist in my colon that cause pain, irritation and other less blog-savory conditions. Let's just say that in previous years, Kaopectate was my good friend. My sweet, chalky lover.
So I was given a month's worth of this monster anti-inflammatory that I have to take three capsules of three times a day. Huge pills. And in two weeks I check back in with my doctor and see what the full story is. But just knowing gives some much-needed relief, even if it hints at a new drug to take for anywhere from a few months to the rest of my life.
I'll take that curtain, if it means improvement.
And now, back to poetry! The poetry of my ass.
Too Clever For MySpace, Apparently
Late last night, after getting home from a three-hour-long high school production of Guys and Dolls, I started to blog because I'd read some sad news on the interweb and wanted to be respectful, clever and artful at the same time. I should know better.
Three guys had died in the last few days that made me kind of sad. Freddy Fender yesterday, Gillo Pontecorvo the day before that, and Ed Benedict a few days before that.
Fender had seen the height of his poularity when I was a kid, Pontecorvo was the director of The Battle of Algiers (an incredible film), and Benedict was the animator responsible for Fred Flintstone, Quick Draw McGraw and Yogi Bear (fond childhood memories).
So I had found some really classy shots from Algiers, and some headshots of the animated characters with really anguished faces, and I had thrown them all together with some very minimalist text, an appropriately respectful and bereaved take on things, and tried to publish it.
And MySpace just couldn't handle it.
After three tries I was tired and frustrated and just quit. Went to get some sleep. And this morning it struck me I had made something really clever and interesting, but it was the brush turning on the painter. I hate when our tools become more beligerent than we artists already are, so to say. Puts us in our places, I suppose. But I don't have to like it.
So, back to drawing board.
And what about that colonoscopy, I hear you ask?
Monday, October 02, 2006
Bought Max Brooks' new book World War Z, which should be on everyone's list if zombies are a part of your ouevre. Dense and giddily serious, it's awesome, and I've barely cracked the spine.
***
DVDs:
The Great New Wonderful may be about the emotional and psychological aftermath of 9/11, and it may be about how people communicate, relate and generally get along, but it's also FUCKING BORING. It should be called The Mild Bland Mediocre.
Looking for Comedy In The Muslim World also suffers from a case of low-key amusement that turns dull and unfunny.
Lonesome Jim was the cinematic equivalent of a monotone. Don't expect a Trees Lounge, man. Expect a nap. What a weekend this turned into.
The Big White was just sad. Could I have struck out worse? Unfunny, seriously similar to about four other films, and did I mention unfunny?
***
New Releases:
Two solid, very engaging documentaries started locally this past weekend. This Film Is Not Yet Rated and Al Franken: God Spoke are both very watchable docs, even if you aren't into their subject matter. Look for them, as they were playing at one of our Angelika theaters, which means if you live in Backwater Gulch, you outta luck.
***
I make damn good pasta.
***
Finally got some clearance on new pieces (sorry, we're talking poetry now). Have finished off about 4-5 new ones, and now just need to tell myself they're good enough for public consumption.
Hell, it's nice just to get some of the scraps off my desk. The best part about always having something to write on is you can take down any clever thought any time of day, and never worry about missing something usable. The worst part is that you have all these half-torn pages and scraps of paper lying everywhere and when it comes time to use them, you can't recall half of what sparked it and you're left with a bunch of disconnected, questionable phrases that you can't use.
Ahh...thank you, artistry! I love the pain and anguish that come when you call.
***
So, about these True whores – err, models. What exactly is the message they're trying to convey?
Dive into something…what was it? Oh, right...love.
"Compatibility test". Uh-huh. I have a neck = WINNER!

…to kick sand in my face. AND LOVE ME!
Well apparently FUZZY DICE! Forget sex, let's all dress our cars up like it's 1958!
Dear God, Sexy Singles! Someone start a meaningful relationship with this poor girl and teach her how to keep her buttons from popping off! She's going to catch a cold, and she appears to be stumbling!
Poor, homely, over-educated girls. Trying to make friends on the interweb, just so they can be more popular. When will they ever learn? The best places to meet people are the grocery store and church. But that would mean they'd have to a) want to eat or b) hear the word of God, and clearly this just isn't high in their priority pyramid.
Congratulations, "dating" sites. You've made women feel good about themselves again, and raised their self-value and esteem a hundredfold. Bravo!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Some Filthy Haikus For The Rabble
On the night of August 30th, I attended Bob Stephenson's venue, Pugsley's Library, for a Haiku Deathmatch (which happens on every fifth Wednesday). I didn't get far, so these newly-written haikus were left as little more than napkin scribbles, until the next day when I unwrapped them, deciphered what I had gotten down and put them in The File.

Here, for your filthy pleasures, are the haikus I wrote that night.

tight haiku

pussy was tight as
dick dale's guitar strings, and the
rhythm twice as sweet.

sexy haiku

sexy maneuver:
by the time her false leg popped
off, well, so had I.

intense haiku
we fuck with so much
intensity that water
just evaporates.

haiku of the silver surfer

the silver surfer
played zamfir's pan flute inside
galactus' butthole.

Thank you, art lovers.

It's Ian McShane's 64th birthday. May I recommend a copy of Sexy Beast if you have all of Deadwood memorized? His part is minor but critical, and great fun to watch. Until then, a little Swearingen philosophy to make your day:
"Pain or damage don't end the world. Or despair or fucking beatings. The world ends when you're dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man...and give some back."

Monday, September 25, 2006
You're Really Not Special, Part 58
NBC premieres Heroes tonight, a show about normal people like slackers and strippers and overachieving cheerleaders who have special powers like cell regeneration and flight and evil mirror images.
Since the show starts with a shot of a man jumping off a rooftop (assumably the guy will be flying by episode's end), I hope all the impressionable children in the country will be watching wrestling instead. The Beavis & Butthead copycats will be dropping like flies (without wings) after this is done.
***
On the safer, smarter side of the new season is Studio 60, which I find highly entertaining and sharp and one of the few times I've found Matthew Perry thoroughly engaging. Too many delighted adjectives? Maybe. Watch an episode and tell me what you think.
***
"I am sorry, but these poems are not what we are looking for at this time. Please feel free to submit other works in the future."
This was the text of my recent New York Quarterly rejection slip. It's a depressing but glorious badge of honor.
***
My son just turned 17. Glorious and depressing in completely different ways.

...there is no other way. and there never was...
Saturday, September 23, 2006
The Porn Paradox Of Netflix
Netflix is a great service, in my opinion, and you can usually find something to suit your tastes, cinematically... as long as penetration is not involved, that is. They don't truck in hardcore porn, though many a documentary about hardcore porn can be found.
So, in the same sense of adventure as one who might plug their own name into Google just to see what pops up, I plugged "porn" into Netflix's search engine, for grins.
Of course, it was not all Puerile McNastydocs. You get some engaging foriegn films that aren't particularly sexy at all, but have the word "porn" in the title. Silly foreigners, "porn" is for tricks, see?
But the one that caught my attention was the second volume in a series about Al Goldstein's seventies-era cable access show Midnight Blue, of which I recall the name from childhood as some kind of legendary show. But this isn't the punchline.
Under each selection in Netflix, they provide the names of several similarly themed films, sort of a PEOPLE WHO LIKED THIS FILM ALSO LIKED...
For Midnight Blue, Volume 2: Porn Stars, the following:
Ken Burns' Civil War
That's right, folks. You all thought Mr. Burns was some kind of staid historian, when really he is an apparent peddler of smutty Union and Confederate porncakes.
Shame on you, professor.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Alt Save Sum, Sum Save Alt
According To The AP Line...
Poet Adrienne Rich, 77, known for her passionate and socially concious verse, has been named one of the recipients of an honorary National Book Award medal. She turned down the National Medal for the Arts in 1997, because she deemed it "incompatible with the cynical politics" of the Clinton administration.
(CB inserts: Wonder how she plans to accept this one in the face of the current administration, which seems to traffic in practices far more dangerous than mere cynicism?)
***
No mas. Danny Flores, who played saxophone and shouted "Tequila!" in the 1950's hit song of the same name, died at 77 of complications from pneumonia.
***
The one and only, Bruce Springsteen turns 57 today. Kudos to you, sir, for being more than a top-40 hit.
Friday, September 22, 2006
From The New York Times...
The Joy of Self-Inflicted Trauma
By NATHAN LEE
Published: September 22, 2006
When the supermasochist Bob Flanagan nailed his penis to a piece of wood in front of a live audience, it was called performance art. When Chris Pontius sheathes his penis in a cotton puppet, dangles it in front of a live snake, and then braces himself for the fangs while his buddies double over in glee, it's known as "Jackass."
"Puppet Show" is the opening bit in "Jackass Number Two," the second feature-length collection of stunts, pranks and self-inflicted trauma from Johnny Knoxville and his merry band of skate-punk yahoos. Much of what follows is too obscene to be described here; suffice to say that disreputable things are done with the ejaculate of a horse. It is also too exhilarating to spoil. Debased, infantile and reckless in the extreme, this compendium of body bravado and malfunction makes for some of the most fearless, liberated and cathartic comedy in modern movies.
You may prefer a Buster Keaton gag to the spectacle of a man leaping from a trampoline into a ceiling fan, but you can't argue with its purity of expression. At the root of the "Jackass" project is an impulse to deny the superego and approach the universe, with all its hard edges and shark-infested waters, as an enormous, undifferentiated playpen. That, and the impulse to watch a 400-pound woman belly-flop on top of a midget. The Surrealists would have loved these guys, and relished the film's signature image: the application of a leech to the surface of an eyeball.
"Jackass Number Two" is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian). Things you can't even imagine.
...because I, like God, do not play with dice...
Monday, September 18, 2006
Did al Qaeda just throw down on the Pope?
Holy shit...
Saturday, September 16, 2006
It was funny to us, but requires so many caveats that I almost don't share the story.
First, you have to have seen Talladega Nights: The Ricky Bobby Story with Will Ferrell to get the joke.
Second, we were watching The Black Dahlia, and you have to understand that Josh Hartnett and Aaron Eckhart play two cops who are partners, and also boxing rivals. They are nicknamed Mr. Fire and Mr. Ice by the L.A. media to promote a proposition to get cops better wages.
SO HERE COMES THE SPOILER PART, AND I DON"T WANNA HEAR ABOUT YOU "ACCIDENTALLY" SKIPPING DOWN...
So, toward the middle of the film (and it's a wacked-out doozy of a story) Aaron Eckhart's character gets killed by a Mystery Killer In The Shadows, and his body is then disposed of by the lackeys of a Powerful Old Hollywood Jew (Mel Gibson was probably apoplectic during the premiere...if they let him in). But the POHJ gives Josh Hartnett's character the chance to say some final words over the bloodied corpse. And Hartnett's cop lays a hand on his friend, mournfully muttering "Fire...and Ice...".
It's at this moment that I lean over to The Wife and whisper "Shake and Bake!" in her ear, which causes her to convulse with politely muffled guffaws, unheard shrieks of laughter. If I had been a stranger and seen her at that moment, I would have thought she was having an epileptic fit, or that maybe her husband had punched her in the solar plexus.
It was a wonderfully giddy moment in an otherwise humorless, loopy movie-going experience.

succumb to the tides
succumb to the tides

if I succumb to the tides,
I will remain just below the surface,
like monks, poets and philosophers do,
utilizing peripheral thought and janus sight
to circumnavigate reason.

-scn, march 5, 2006
The Endurance
Here's wishing a happy 50th birthday to Mickey Rourke. Since I was a kid, this guy has done it all, from rubbing fruit on Kim Basinger's nipples to giving Chinaski his due to whaling on a psychotic cannibal Frodo, Mickey Rourke is The Man when it comes to tough-as-nails character actors. He is the Robert Mitchum of our generation.
Though honestly, I don't recall Mitchum ever rubbing fruit on Lauren Bacall's nipples. At least, on screen.
...there is nothing as boring as the truth...
Friday, September 15, 2006
Next, The Crazy Pieces Of Shit
I kept coming up behind these maniacs in traffic, the kind that when they didn't get to turn in time, or other drivers didn't go fast enough, or any little inane thing, they start to bash the steering wheel with their fists, throw punches into the ceiling of their vehicles, shake and thrash and yell until spittle flies from their mouths. Insane people. Normal don't beat up their own rides.
I mention this because last night we watched Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf, and I realized when it was over that these were two awful, crazy pieces of shit, George and Martha. We went all the way with them and they sit quietly in the dawn's light while we sit on our couch comparing notes on how these aren't just manipulative pricks, these are crazy, crazy, awful pieces of shit (if I may repeat myself) (and I may).
The Black Dahlia is filled with crazy, overacting stars, but none are so evil that you wince at their mere existence. No, George and Martha have that base covered quite nicely, thanks.
Then there are two news stories that couldn't have been more appropriate to my little song of insanity. Tell me which you think is more cruel:
COACH PAYS GRADE SCHOOLER TO HARM 8-YEAR-OLD AUTISTIC BOY TO KEEP HIM FROM PLAYING ON THEIR TEAM
(Despicable bastard?)
or
NANCY GRACE DRIVES CONFLICTED HOT ASIAN MOM TO SUICIDE
(Evil cunt?)
You decide.
...but the memory remains...
First, The Medical Stories
I had a pinched, knotted-up sensation in my lower abdomen. This was two weeks ago Thursday. Seemed worse when I was in an upright, L-shaped sitting position, but still, I knew it wasn't right so I went to the doctor.
Great doctor. Figures it's either a pulled muscle, diverticulosis (not -itis), or possible hernia. Gives me a plan and med samples and off I go. The doctor was out of office for a week, so the plan had to cover a minimum of 8 days.
She also felt that my chronic bowel problems were a separate issue, but we'd deal with that later.
Oh, did I forget to mention for the last few years I haven't been able to shit straight? (The writer leans back and laughs heartily, knowing this is TMI, appropriately angled thumb and pointer to forehead.)
I see no 100% cure, but still only have minor discomfort, so I decide I'll head back to the doctor.
Day of the doctor, I open the door and cut my foot. I go see the doctor, more concerned about my guts than my foot, and she tells me I need an ultra-sound next. I get home that night and realize the part of the door that cut me was metal. I faintly recall my last tetanus shot taking place sometime in a decade when disco was popular, so I hustle down to the late-night corporate clinic and get a tetanus booster. Don't want to get lockjaw when I like to talk so much, right?
When I get out to the car 2 hours later, one of my headlights has gone out. The phrase "what else can happen" has left my vocabulary, as it now illicits only unbalanced giggling.
Next morning I go in for the ultra-sound, which is by turns very uncomfortable and very anti-climactic. I'm told in a few days the doctor's office will get the report. I also have a gastroenterologist appointment the following week, which will probably lead to a colonoscopy.
A colonoscopy.
I'm 42, so this is probably a good thing to have done, but still, I've heard no dreamy, rainbow-flavored stories about this procedure.
So I'm pinched in the gut, my arm is knotted sore from the tetanus shot, my foot is sliced and aching, my anus is questioning the order of things and I'm driving in the dark (sort of). For now.
All of this, and all the dental work from summer, and to think back in May all I wanted was to settle down into a talking cure with a therapist and get my psyche rotated and balanced. Get the anxiety under control. Ha.
...to be continued...
Thursday, September 14, 2006
The Wife and I will probably see The Black Dahlia and Hollywoodland this weekend. They both look quite good. However, I have one strong reservation about the films.
They are both based on unsolved crimes, so I think I know how the films will end:
Hardboiled cop leans over desk, fists down, a fresh bruise on his forehead left from the climactic fight scene that ended two minutes earlier. He glances at the crime-scene photos splayed across the desktop. Lights a cigarette.
"We may never know..."
Music up. Fade to black.
...thank you, bank robber...
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Today's birthdays:
Fiona Apple (dreamy)
Jim Norton (funny)
Richard Kiel (still alive)
***
How To Take Your Mind Off Abdominal Pain
1-Open door to lean over and obtain morning paper
2-Raise up too quickly and lose balance
3-Realize that you have hand on doorknob
4-Use door to regain balance
5-Move to close door
6-Wonder why door is suddenly not moving
7-Look down
8-Realize door has run up over bare foot
9-Re-open door
10-Remove wounded foot from door swing zone
11-Tend to large gash in top of foot that feels like someone has landed an old pickaxe in your flesh
12-(optional) Voluminous cursing
13-(optional) "I Just Gouged My Foot On The Goddam Door" Experimental Dance
14-N-N-N-Neo!

Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Since the 24-hour hand-wringing session is over, maybe we should get back to blindly ignoring injustice and being overly suspicious and fearful again. Until the next anniversary of emotional blackmail, that is.
If our government was so intent on doing what's right for its people, how about:
-pulling armed forces back into the country and shoring up borders, harbors and overall internal security, before that of any external government
-increasing the pay and benefits for all teachers, police, fire and emergency workers
-taxing the wealthy and large corporations to a reasonable degree, i.e. the same relative percentage - or more - than middle and lower class citizens
-letting honor, integrity, truth and dignity mean something again; letting them replace fear, suspicion, special interests and diversions
-end the use of the justification "for the children"; utilizing children to prevent things that adults should be responsible for anyway is just crying wolf, and everyone can see through it
-let freedom of speech include unpopular, vulgar and even anti-American speech, because if we censor anyone, we must be prepared to censor everyone, and the nation was built on a union of voices determined to appreciate that such disparate peoples could live peacefully in one land
-balance our puritanical beginnings with our contemporary developments, so that the world will not view us as spoiled and reckless, but enlivened and enriched
But more than anything else, Americans must call bullshit when they see it, and the powers that be must respect that they will be replaced when the call has gone out once too often. Americans must display a healthy amount of common sense, for without it we are mere consumers and victims. Americans must be held responsible for their actions - legal systems need vast and thorough reform.
We have a country to balance. We have a cultural stew that needs to be gently stirred, and the heat reduced. We have politicians that need to retire and young minds that need civic inspiration.
But as long as we wallow in our sorrows, our self-effacement, and our anger, we can never be great and true. We can only be loud and fast and blind, and thus we shall surely stumble.

...the line forms down the middle...
Thursday, September 07, 2006
A rousing Happy Birthday to Sonny Rollins, 76 today. You are a giant, sir, and Controlled Burning applauds you.
***
Crank is a little piece of junk-brilliance. It sets out to do one thing with one goal in mind and succeeds through-and-through. A movie that promises and delivers.
***
Printer on the fritz, what'll I do? You can't send a manuscript you can't print. Anyone know of a) some low-cost printer maintenance or b) some low-cost printer sales, please let me know.
***
Hernia? Diverticulosis? Submit your votes now!
Monday, September 04, 2006
Scorched doll faces, empty swings, predator mugshots: it must be a Labor Day Law & Order: Special Victims Unit Marathon!
Almost 24 hours of Detectives Elliot "Steadily More Unstable" Stabler and Olivia "I Have A Cause!" Benson, Captain Donald "Stoney" Cragen and Assistant District Attorney (fill in your favorite one here). Hour upon hour of sad, horrible human behavior and the sad, troubled cops who make things right...when they aren't being derailed by "the system".
Grill those burgers, crack open the chips and beer, and let's all settle in with the good times.
Happy Labor Day!
Saturday, September 02, 2006
"my grasp"
my grasp

my grasp of art,
god, sunlight and dust
typifies how easily
the requisite desire
is murdered by
boredom.

-scn, march 5, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Ernesto's A Pussy!
That's really all I was going to say.
I can just see him, whining as he dwindles toward the coast: "Downgraded? Who do they think I am, Pluto?!"
***
Saw an article this morning about New Orleans' progress since Katrina. There was a picture of a woman named Oblique Weaver, who I'm sure is a lovely person. But it struck me that we've gotten way to bored when thinking up names for our children. Are we just picking adjectives now? Next thing you know, some poor bastard will walk up and introduce himself as "Tangential". Tangential Jackson.
I blame Snakes On A Plane. But the problem existed long before that was written. I heard the comedian Lewis Black once talking about children who were named things like Asshole (pronounced Ay-sho-Lay) and Shithead (Shi-thayd). And really, these were actual people, not jokes. So you're either evil for stamping that on your kid's head for their entire life, or you're too stupid to be allowed to have kids in the first place. I don't recall the routine, so if I've just repeated it common-sensically, I apologize and grovel at your angry, shaking feet, Mr. Black. But really, that's some fucked up stuff right there.
There's nothing wrong with Michael, or William. And Sarah, Paula and Ellen are fine, too. Don't get too wacky trying to make your kid special. You're just going to get them beaten and ridiculed - repeatedly.
...too long in the game to not know the rules...
Just finished a delightful lunch of chicken knobs, potato slack and a creamy milk discharge. MMM, yum.
***
A note to all the ladies out there: Hornbuckle got 15 years for raping 3 women, so do the math. Your flesh, dignity and honor are worth 5 years of some son of a bitch's life.
The world is a goddam shame.
***
DNA evidence cleared John Karr of any shenanigans with JonBenet Ramsey. I think he not only wanted out of a Thai prison, but he also wanted to receive some much-needed attention. Clearly he's crying out for a hug. Or, perhaps, to paraphrase Mamet, "he just likes talking to federal agents".
In any case, I feel it's important to point out: I have never met a woman named JonBenet. So clearly the parents have some further answering to do.
***
A few weeks back when the Dallas heat started into the hundreds, someone on a news channel erupted "the roads are buckling!", and it made me laugh, the kind of over-excited reactions people have to otherwise odd situations. Recently, someone at my office had taken one of the outdoor cigarette disposal units and emptied it onto the sidewalk near an office window, and it was an ugly sight to see the following Monday morning. Ugly, but not something to rend hair over. But so many people overreacted to it, acting as though someone had squated down and taken a huge dump outside the building, that it made me wonder if folks really know what's critical and what's not anymore.
And while the roads may not have truly buckled, our front door did. Hell to lock for weeks during the worst heat, today it unlocked with a sweet, fluid ease that only comes with a predicted high of 88.
***
Beerfest (theater) - fun, and brainless, and worth every cent after one of those miserable Mondays in your hellish office of choice.
Chiseen (DVD) - brainless, and brainless, this is what you get when Jackass is emulated by a bunch of Chinese teens. The fireworks were good, I'll give them that.
Bill Hicks: Sane Man (DVD) - classic Hicks pre-cancer stand-up. If you've heard the CDs, you've probably heard most of the material, but still good stuff.
Inside Man, Brick (DVD) - Still two of the best films of the year, so far. Crackling good genre films with terrific performances all around. Check both out.
...and it's real, and it's real one more time...

Sunday, August 27, 2006
New And Improved Squalor!
The extended stay joint down the road has a tarp over its usual signage that reads
NEWLY RENOVATED
which I read as
WE'VE FILED OFF THE RUST AND BLEACHED AWAY THE BLOOD STAINS
The homeless sex offenders must be all atwitter.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
"no finished work"
no finished work

if there was complete and utter silence
there would still be the test pattern symphonic
in my ears

there is no peace
and piece of mind does not
require silence;
only random contacts -
skin, words and puzzle-locked
emotions - sustain us

there is no finished work,
only syllables and palettes.

-scn, august 10, 2003
"important, and not so"
important, and not so

as a poet,
moreover as a writer,
I feel quite useless,
unable to put into adequate terms
the roiling, nebulous themes
trapped inside the head,
the heart.

maybe a mild depression
stunts the language
while exhilarating the senses?

but no; history has shown
that depression favors the wordsmith.

perhaps chemicals, those I indulge
and the ones secreted from the mothers very pores
have dulled me?

doubtful; artists have been known
to indulge the critics and the masses alike
when coursing with other than blood, bile or tear.

the static nature of the world?
stupidity, anger, greed,
each encased in plastic and steel,
serving to deaden the eye, mind and tongue,

leaving only the most personal of epiphanies
to pierce or seep into the skin,
rap the knuckle, embed beneath cuticle,
to infect while defending and
preserving
the genuine, basic means within
our hearts.

there are days when I just dont know
where to turn or how to respond,
past incredulity.

there are other days when I do,
and yet everyone around me seems
mute, bound or gagging
on all their own attempts
to realize the victories
that are their senses,

and that leaves me with my pockets filled
with poems, unread.

-scn, may 8, 2002
Dissing Pluto
After 75 years of outer-rim success, Pluto is downgraded by the International Astronomical Union from a "planet" to a "dwarf planet", which I think is just wrong. It should be "little planet". That's what they like to be called.
I can just see it now. Pluto, sliding through its eccentric orbit, sipping a scotch, and cursing the General Assembly of the IAU: "Who are these men? Who are these men? I wanted to be a planet!"
It's just sad. And there are his neighbors, acting all high and mighty. Haughty Neptune, and Uranus...well, I don't even want to think about Uranus.

...first there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is...
Monday, August 21, 2006
"ruminations: k"
ruminations: k

that icon of yours,
he never looked very happy
in all the film clips I watched.
he looked tired, sad, disappointed in it all;
even when cracking a joke he seemed disgruntled,
yet he was ruggedly handsome in a way none of his peers were,
looked like a character actor we all would recognize even if
we couldn't place the name.

sounds like he never wanted to be your icon,
and would decline the accolades
and invitations to seminars and readings,
and might not think much of a street in his name.

comparisons we cannot make defeat us,
cribbing observations tipped in venom for the ones
who were what we cannot be
and are what we do not want to be
- dead or defeated -
but always more highly praised than we,
until we are defeated and dead and then revered.
we flicker like rays of sun that lost their hour,
cast out, replaced by a billion shadowy stars that cry for fame.
some of us had generations on fire and some
were quieter dissenters whose mere printed words carried weight,
and those long before us were becoming stale and passed by
when I was bored and small,
but they were at least couriers of their own legend
while we, each step faded, carry the weight of the attempt
more than the achievement.

sloth is the comfort fuck that we sleep with,
the marrow we are steeped in, buried with,
attuned to more than any illicit creed,
hours of thought railing over
the cusp of anguished fear and bedazzling lust
ground into the pages,
fear tilting until it
resembles curiosity
and lust just beside itself
with an unnatural calm that
belies the task of
jabbing at the air,
making sharp but illegible marks that
form a language of any merit,
or at least one that can be posthumously
identified.
all his aching will not fit
within the rickety metronome of his fingers
typing pale words on scrolled pages that
cannot fully form plaintive
portraits that are invisible
other than a sad, warm outline
in sepia tone.
his message so deceptively simple
that he sometimes forgot why he took up
the gauntlet of his forebears;
he is a knowing fraud and perhaps they were, too,
yet the unrelenting thirst for creation
drives him down a narrow path
balanced delicately on knowledge and façade,
leaving him feeling entombed,
not enlightened;
leaving him wanting,
not fulfilled.

sloth is the residue on our fingertips,
divining merriment and damnation.

the new york public library
just acquired his papers, notes, score cards,
all the summer league scribblings
and his manuscripts.
so there really will be no mystery
now.

...just an exhibit...

encased in glass,
villa's hall-of-fame performance
will finally be part of
recorded acclaim,
and the annuls of time
will weep for his
greatness.

there is a book whose heft is coffee-table variety,
and it contains mostly his dharmic ruminations.

it is a handsome tome,
the dust-cover a sweetly rusted brown
off-set with large periwinkle lettering.

its very weight gives it the feel
of some lurching importance,
something that is necessary
and of an unparalleled depth
both societal and spiritual
that would help men become
better than they aspire to be.

and yet...

I couldn't read
a god-damned word.

just this once,
I'll take the legend.

-scn, march 15 2001
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Monumental Goof Dept:
When in Austin recently, we saw an old friend and had a lovely momentary reunion. Her name is Jena, formerly Weatherly, formerly of Dallas poetry scenes, and it was wonderful seeing her. She's a real peach.
Unfortunately, I didn't ask her for an e-mail address.
So, if anyone out there knows Jena, and has her address, please send it on or better yet, tell her to get in touch, because 6 years is too long between hugs. I don't want to have to accidentally run into her the next time I'm in Austin just to get to see or hear from her again. And my luck isn't that good anyway.

...and she wondered how a chinese man could be so rude...
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
I wonder if, when Stephen Colbert says the words "Ann Coulter" and "credibility" in the same breath, he throws up in his mouth just a little bit?
Hey, Sissy Fanboy!
Yikes.
Just caught myself after sending three consecutive poets gushing messages and friend requests. What have I become? (see title)
Ah, well. I suppose it's perfectly normal to watch people turn themselves inside out with performances and be so impressed you immediately want to spend all the money you didn't already blow on the vacation to buy their stuff. Yeah, that sounds like what every other poet is doing this week.
Nationals was great, and I didn't get the chance to point out some of my favorite moments:
-a woman in the audience said "Christ, he looks 12 years old" when Zach and Colin took the stage for a team piece based on Road Runner cartoons and relationship disasters. Thing is, I'm not sure which one they were talking about.
-preventing The Wife from tagging Phil West in the head with her elbow...for the second time. (Back in 1998, we were at a bout in some shitty little club that was packed, and I mean you could not move. West was making his way from point A to point B and she turned sharply at just the right moment...POP! Her elbow rudely kisses his head, he keeps moving like a trooper, and she didn't even know she did it until I told her last week.)
-Bob "Whoopeecat" Stephenson got the Spirit of the Slam award, and while we did not witness it, we were there in...spirit. We love Bob, and he's done so much in the Dallas community in the last year alone that he deserves a big fat award just for being here. Great guy.
-Did I mention I was blown away by Alvin Lau? I don't think I can repeat this enough, he was that good. And before last week, I had never heard of him before. How cool is that?
-Slam Planet was incredibly fun to watch. I just feel bad about Taylor Mali, so misunderstood. That is, until I saw him with his new 'do at Indie Finals. He's gone from professorial to downright groovy/hipster. It is too jarring a change. I must go back and watch Slamnation again to clear it from memory.
-Whole Foods Market has the best fruit ever displayed in yuppie-neat stacks - but done by hippies. Grab some pineapple, throw it in your hemp bag and sieze the day, bitches!
Kinderwhore*
It amazes me what some people think is clever.
Last night we saw a commercial for a Kids Bop-style CD that had all of these sweet little 8-10 year olds dancing on screen. And then they started to sing it.
Hollaback Girl.
What in the name of all that's right and holy was someone thinking when they said, "Hey, on this edition, let's get some of that new pop sound. The teens love Gwen Stefani. Let's buy the rights to some of her tunes, and make preteens love her too!"
Thus, we get sweet little Mary and precocious Timmy singing the following:
Uh huh, this is my shit All the girls stomp your feet like this [Chorus]:
A few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna to happen like that
Because I ain't no hollaback girlI ain't no hollaback girl [Repeat]
Ooooh ooh, this my shit, this my shit [4x]
I heard that you were talking shit
And you didn't think that I would hear itPeople hear you talking like that, getting everybody fired upSo I'm ready to attack, gonna lead the packGonna get a touchdown, gonna take you outThat's right, put your pom-poms downs, getting everybody fired up
A few times I've been around that trackSo it's not just gonna to happen like thatBecause I ain't no hollaback girlI ain't no hollaback girl [Repeat]
Ooooh ooh, this my shit, this my shit [4x]
So that's right dude, meet me at the bleachers
No principals, no student-teachersBoth of us want to be the winner, but there can only be oneSo I'm gonna fight, gonna give it my allGonna make you fall, gonna sock it to youThat's right I'm the last one standing, another one bites the dust A few times I've been around that trackSo it's not just gonna to happen like thatBecause I ain't no hollaback girlI ain't no hollaback girl [Repeat] Ooooh ooh, this my shit, this my shit [4x] Let me hear you say this shit is bananasB-A-N-A-N-A-S(This shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S)Again this shit is bananasB-A-N-A-N-A-S(This shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S) A few times I've been around that trackSo it's not just gonna to happen like thatBecause I ain't no hollaback girlI ain't no hollaback girl [Repeat] Ooooh ooh, this my shit, this my shit [4x]Yeah, that's some Romper Room Gangsta shit, you feel me?Even if they managed to completely re-write the thing (and really,
how could you make it worse?), everyone will still know what your
source material was, and you could never talk your way out of the
concept. I'm sure someone in the discussion suggested some
50 Cent or Biggie, and hopefully they were lead from the room. But
it's a free market, baby, and you just know there are vanloads of
moms and their dainty progeny rambling down the road from elementary
school, singing in unison, because it's a fun family thing.Oy. Flipping. Vey. *Thanks to Kirsten Macy
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Dallas, Day 7,168 - Home Is Where The High Water Pressure Is
Our cool, dry apartment.
A long, hot shower, with high water pressure.
A fresh pot of hot coffee, some fresh fruit and sandwiches from the local market, and a fat sunday paper.
Space, even in this small apartment, that seems vast compared to the room we stayed in.
Getting all the bills paid and off my desk.
Wanting a nap but watching Charley Varrick instead.
A head full of words for potential poems.
A sack of new books to read and new CDs to listen to, and a list of names: poets to seek out material from.
The Wife, tucked into our freshly made bed, resting easy.
The car, sleek and victorious after the long haul.
No clutter, everything in its place.

It's so goddam good to be home.

Saturday, August 12, 2006
Austin, Day 5, Ongoing - After The Fall, or, A Wing Is Clipped
We're leaving a restaurant midday, getting a late start but a very relaxed, happy one. Nothing could get in the way of a delightful day.
The step was painted yellow, with large stencilled letters that read "CAUTION - STEP".
Usually I hold her hand, and usually I say things like "watch your step" even when I know she's fully capable of walking. But today I was moving forward a split-second faster than usual, intending to open the car door before she ever got there, when she goes to ground behind me. I turn to see The Wife in a heap on the concrete and seconds seem to speed up. I check her, lift her to her feet without using the arm that hurts, get her to the car and dab at her bloody knees and hand with a handkerchief. Only her elbow and wrist hurt enough to worry her, though her knees look like she just finished a rowdy game of rugby without any protective gear.
I get her back to the room, dab at the blood with a wet cloth and spray Bactine on the scrapes. Check her mobility, which is fine except for the elbow. Get her cleaned up, bandaged, wrap the arm and then watch her sleep for an hour before giving her some Motrin.
Thus, our plans changed.
She of the hearty disposition doesn't want to go to an emergency room, and frankly, I have to wonder if they would have done much the same as we did, with, of course, a higher charge. She of the tough skin allows me to re-set bandages and Neosporin and help her with every little thing that requires lifting, moving and any other random arm movements. She re-assures me that I could not have prevented it from happening, could not have sufficiently caught her in time. But her being hurt in any way gives me a chill.
***
So, yeah, we missed the finals. I fed her blackened salmon and greek salad with a delightfully crisp 2006 bottled water. We sat in comfortable huddles and watched Law & Order and Sideways and Red Dragon. And taking care of her and watching her sleep, it was the very best vacation I could have had. And tomorrow we drive home and nap and do laundry and wait for Monday morning.
My vacation should be a chance to see scenery and landscapes that I've not seen before, to explore places where I've never stood and where I've only dreamed of walking. But I keep spending them looking into the sweet eyes and tender grin of my wife's face, and it doesn't faze me one bit that I could, for free, do the exact same thing at home. But I would spend all I earn to be able to look into those eyes. And travel is just a way to do all those same things that bring you joy but in a different environment: eat good food, laugh over stories, and love the ones that you hold dear. Those things are ongoing.
Only the car shows the mileage.
Austin, Day 4 - Alvin Lau, Accept No Substitute
Wanted to take part in the Haiku Slam but didn't get picked. Oh well.
The semi finals were brutal, as was my stomach. I don't know if it was massive anxiety, food poisoning, heat or a combo of the three, but I became wildly sick once the proceedings got under way, though I was able to see most of it from the hallway.
NYC Louder Arts won, and rightly so. Carlos and Rachel wiped the slate clean.
Then on to Indie Finals. All I can say is: Amy Weaver gets all my love and Anis Mojgani (who won) gets my deep admiration, but Alvin Lau was king.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Austin, Day 3 - More Incredible Stuff, More Blind & Deaf Judges
Let me cut it down to the core for you:
Miami's Kyisha (sorry, man, I'm sure I mispelled that, but I couldn't find your name in the program), Will and Asia (again, sorry if that's not right) - incredible stuff all around.
Dallas Pugsley's Library - two more hot team pieces and another scorching Amy Weaver performance, all falling on the heads of judges that failed in recognizing the team's work.
France - yes, that France. Terrific work from a non-English speaking team. My first exposure to subtitled slam, and I liked it.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Austin, Day 2 - Colin Gilbert Hits A Homer
After a very enjoyable morning and a great "Legends" showcase (Daphne Gottlieb, you are "the shit", as the kids say, and Beau Sia, you are no legend...you are sweet velvet crown royalty), we ended up at the first bout, which was Dallas Clearview against Boise, Palatine, Columbia and Newark. Unfortunately, we were able to only watch one round before leaving due to the late start of the venue. Dallas' Rockbaby and Joaquin did a great job with their "change the channel" group piece, and apparently won the bout. Notable from the first round were Dennis from Palatine with a great bar poem, and Stacy from Columbia.
Hoofed it over to the overcrowded Hideout. Got a parking space that indicated miracles are possible. Said hello to our favorites, Dallas Pugsley's, who walked up as we parked. Got inside, got water, got seats that rivaled no other. And then, on time, watched a magnificent bout.
NYC Louder won the night (by 2 tenths of a point), and let me not take away from their performances: Carlos burned the house down, the group piece was great and Marty was simply staggering. Gayle Danley of DC Baltimore was another standout of the night.
But my heart, the Dallas Pugsley's inaugural team, made the greatest impressions of the night. Amy Weaver closed it out with her "book" piece, and ate everyone else alive. But it was Colin Gilbert's "Pops Rocks" piece that made the single-most phenomenal display of the night. The piece on its own is fine, but the choreography of the speaker (Colin) being yanked by God's puppet-strings (thank you God...I mean Bob) made the work into one of the most electric performances I have ever witnessed. I do not say this because I love these guys. I say it because it is true.
Today, day 3 - some much needed relaxation, followed by the second set of bouts. But first: Phil's Icehouse for a Violet Crown, thank you.
But First, A Terror Alert
With the latest foiled terror plot, you will now need to check all lotions, creams and liquids. So be prepared to explain those tubes of "special" lubricant and other discretionary items.
Poor Tony Blair. Finally takes a break from work and this happens. And he has to take a transatlantic flight back. Some guys can't catch a break.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Austin, Day 1 - And Their Shall Be Extended Stay Rooms Without Cigarette Burns Or Sex Offenders
It started off so well.
We changed our plan and got up extra early, figuring to beat hometown morning drive traffic, speed down the tollway and blast through South Dallas so we'd be out of the metroplex before the sun rose, and indeed we did, making great time.
Too good of a time, it would seem.
We arrived in Austin just before 10 am and there was a slight problem with the room...it was unacceptable. Holes in the walls, rust and cigarette burns on most surfaces, the smell of smoke in what was to have been a smoke-free room. Inconvenienced and wanting to unpack, we rambled around town until noon when a new room was ready, a room fit for humans.
The Wife had this crazy thought: don't extended stay places attract sex offenders that can't find any other place to live? That's crazy, I hear you say.
No, no.
Check statistics, and you will find this is in fact true. She did some preliminary research weeks before, however, and found that there were none where we are staying. Sigh of relief.
Once unpacked in our delightfully cramped space, we racked out and 4 hours later headed out again.
Austin Land & Cattle Co. is a very good steak joint. And I love steak. Hey, vegans, I don't care how sad the earth is, you don't know joy like an expertly-cooked steak. The tears of Gaia can flow all day, but a steak would have the Mother licking her sweet green chops. So head out to this place, and enjoy.
Then went down to the Alamo Drafthouse and saw Slam Planet, this millenium's documentary on the poetry slam and the 2004 Nationals where NYC Urbana and Austin seemed like front-runners. All I can say, apart from nicely done, Mike Henry, is: poor, poor, misunderstood Taylor Mali. This guy can't catch a break. Always made out to be some kind of villain in these things. And I'll bet he doesn't give a damn one way or the other.
(As Taylor moves out of camera range, a single tear flows down his cheek. He ducks his head down, lightly shudders, and moves on down the street.)
Now I am here, past midnight, attempting to type on The Wife's laptop. I am a six-foot/four-inch tall, 259-lb, big-meaty-handed, full-grown man. I dislike the keyboard on the laptop because it is, like me, overly sensitive, and because it forces me to type in such a way that is very uncomfortable physically for my wrists and hands. But I have responsibilities, dear friends, and so I endure.
Tomorrow: day 2 holds a hot-sounding "legends" showcase (meaning people who've been slamming for more than 10 years) and the first round of preliminary bouts. Go, teams Dallas!
Saturday, August 05, 2006
For The Dallas Groupies
Here are the bouts containing Dallas Teams for the first two nights of Nationals:

Wednesday, August 9th
7pm - Bout # 7
Dallas "Clearview" at 501 Studios, up against Newark, Boise, Columbia and Palatine
9pm - Bout # 12
Dallas "Pugsley's" at The Hideout, up against Ithaca, Orlando, NYC Louder and DC-Balt

Thursday, August 10th
7pm - Bout # 16
Dallas "Pugsley's" at Ruta Maya, competing with Madison, France (?), Miami and Chicago
9pm - Bout # 30
Dallas "Clearview" at Volitant, fighting off the advances of Houston, Charlotte, Columbus and Oakland

Here's wishing our local crews luck, love and good karma.
Sounds Like Horse Race
Trip Prep neck and neck with Festival Fun and Beat The Heat, edging out Confusing Denouement, closely followed by Austin Delights!

When you spend more money preparing for a vacation road trip than you plan to spend on the actual vacation road trip, is that so wrong? I've been telling myself that no, it isn't, though my gut still twists at where my Visa balance will be a week and a half from now.
Spent $550 on tires.
See, tires are supposed to be changed occasionally, and not driven until they bleed, so this would have happened eventually anyway, but since this was timed so perfectly to accent the oncoming extended remix highway drive, it takes on a tad more emotional weight than it otherwise would.
***
Breaking in a new pair of sandals. Ironing shirts that still have factory creases. Making lists of anything I would need in the extended stay motel for next week. Attempting not to freak out over costs. Wanting to have fun and relax. This is my current lot, managing these weekend tasks before a brief final day at work before the break and then off to Austin. Have capable guard dogs to watch the home front. The car is prepped and ready. The bags will be packed, with all probability, at the last minute. But seeing as this is the first real vacation we've taken since the honeymoon, I'm hoping it will be at the very least calmly pleasurable.
***
The Asian Film Festival of Dallas is off and running. Allow me to promote:
Controlled Burning's Choice Picks for the AFFD 2006
ONE NIGHT IN MONGKOK
Derek Yee's award-winning crime drama is part destined-to-be-failed-romance a la' Wong Kar-Wai, part dark Johnny To cop procedural, and all good. It is, in my humble opinion, the best film at the festival and I encourage anyone going not to miss it.
CROMARTIE HIGH SCHOOL: THE MOVIE
Nonsensical, silly, without a narrative and failing any serious consideration, this is a hilarious live-action version of a manga about a seemingly cursed high school filled with ne'er-do-wells, including a robot and a gorilla. Drop your brain in the lobby and enjoy this surprisingly good comedy.
GREEN CHAIR
It starts off as though you're about to watch some kind of sleazy/adult/crime thriller, but it is actually a sweet, humorous, and polite little tale of a woman who has sex with a minor. When she gets out of jail, they meet up again and wait out the ten days before he becomes an adult by staying with her ceramic-artist friend. They make mugs, have sex, consider life. It's a great show. 18+ audience restricted.
GOJIRA
By the time you read this you will have missed it, but there's always a DVD release in the coming weeks. The original Godzilla, in a director's cut format that frees itself of the American-added Raymond Burr cutscenes, is a fantastic film and a great little piece of memorabilia. Seek it out.
INITIAL D
I found it amusing when, in the promotional materials for the recent FAST AND THE FURIOUS: TOKYO DRIFT, "actor" Lil Bow Wow (or is it just Bow Wow? I cannot recall...) says that there's never been a film about drifting...BUT HE'S WRONG, SEE! Initial D, also based on a popular manga, is a nice little piece of fluff about a...well, who cares, there's cars and speed and The Legendary, so just go have fun.
THREE TIMES
Beautiful. That's all I can say.
THE GREAT YOKAI WAR
Asian director Takashi Miike usually sticks to the bizarro world of crime dramas, meaning yakuzas who defile each other in disgusting ways that make you laugh. This time out, he's made a film of a children's story...that is, let's be clear, not a film for children. Somewhere between Venture Bros. and Wonder Showzen is the apocalyptic Sesame Street of Miike's Yokai. Controlled Burning says enjoy.
TYPHOON
Look, I'm not gonna lie to you, Typhoon is by no means a great film (sorry, AFFD execs). It's such a standard sort of action fare that it looks as if miserable Hollywood producers dreamt it up, then had it translated into Korean for good measure. But say what you want about the dialogue and the story, it is a wonderful LOOKING film. Shot with crisp but luxurious style, it is an absolutely watchable movie. Exciting and dramatic, it fulfills the pretense of mainstream blockbuster. So sure, give it a look.
I have been very proud of the AFFD since its creation, because it not only brings great movies to this otherwise sad little burg called Dallas, but it also has the foresight to acknowledge films that haven't made it big on either coast, where you expect a slightly greater appreciation of foreign film talent (even if for the sole purpose of remaking them).
I applaud Mye and all the AFFD folks for bringing together another great festival.
***
Holy fuck, is it hot out there. When at 9am I run to pick up my car and in 10 minutes feel the sheen of wetness under my shirt, that's some kinda miserable heat. We stayed in for the better part of the day for the simple fact that I don't want to watch the pounds melt away by actually melting.
DVDs are the new radio.
***
The Neighbor No. 13 (DVD) - A very effective, well-made yet grisly little 2005 film about a picked-on grade-schooler who grows up to be a serial killer. Maybe. While very good, the final five minutes lost me completely, leaving me to search the web for a summary of the final act. By someone who knows what the hell. Look for it, good stuff.
Drawn Together, Season 1 (DVD) - As un-PC as a cartoon can get? Probably. Funny stuff that tends to center around racism, handling the handicapped, sweat shop vengeance and The Gays, all in a cutely-animated package that shows up the world of reality TV. Don't watch if you have only a marginal sense of humor.
Miami Vice (in theaters) - Awesome. Forget Don Johnson and Glenn Frey and pastels, and see this gritty, dark, slick piece of work by Michael Mann. Perhaps the best summer film in a season of mostly disappointing choices.
The Descent (in theaters) - Did I just say best summer film? Wow. Great movie. Don't let all the banter about it not having the same ending as in the UK prevent you from enjoying this claustrophobic, intense, trippy little flick. A scary movie where women aren't pushovers? Say it ain't so, baby! Go see this right now. After finishing the blog, of course. Unless you're going to the AFFD first, because, well, we're tight like that.
***
So yeah, we're going to Austin to get away from the grind, but doing so during the week of the National Poetry Slam. We plan to see some of our favorite local artists go to town on teams from around the country. Some have been supportive, some have been good friends, all are extremely talented on the microphone, so it stands to be a pretty entertaining and fun week. But mostly, it's about a break from the dulling effect of work and shit and thoughts too ugly to blog. So here's to fun. And here's to Austin, City of Hills and Haiku Deathmatches.
...nothing harder to watch than an englishman trying to cry...
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Should Have Seen It Coming...
"I wish I could crush Jews as easily as this kitten."
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Guess What Wasn't A Headline?
This kind of shit will get you fired anywhere else in America.
Associated Press
Or at least walked to Human Resources and marked as the easiest choice to lay off during the next reduction of force.
And my answer to the inevitable conservative remark is that Lewinski was a) in private and b) consensual.
Dumbass.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Jack Warden, 1920 - 2006.

Godspeed, Mickey.
Monday, July 24, 2006
"...freedom... so long an unremembered dream, was his."
Makoto "Mako" Iwamatsu, 1933 - 2006

Rest in peace, Akiro.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
The MySpace Whores Have Spoken
A new practice I have come across since beginning this venture: every few days I get approximately 25 notices (in tandem, it seems) for "friend requests" that are from women with names like Dahlia and Lani and Yvette who all have photos that look surprisingly professional, usually of them bent over in rather skimpy attire. They all seem terribly friendly. It's just a shame that if you click on the images to view their profiles, you immediately get inundated with porn spam.
Ah, serendipity.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
It's Why We Have Adult Swim
Just finished the second two sessions of Stephen King's Nightmares & Dreamscapes show on TNT. What a fucking downer. I thought I was depressed.
Here's hoping next week's installments will be gory, funny, exciting, anything but the prolonged yawn of despondency that we saw tonight.
And what happened to the opening song on Pee-Wee's Playhouse? Wah-wah-wah-wah-dum-dee-dum-dee-dum...not there. Still, this is why we have Adult Swim, to regroup after emotionally backsliding dramas.
***
The draws for NPS are finally...finalized. I haven't been excited about any of the side events except for the Haiku slam. I wish there was a general open mic...but there isn't a huge amount of detail on the website yet. But hey, it's two weeks away. Maybe by the weekend.
***
Occlusal guard: $457.
Permanent crown: $1024.
Root canal: $1200.
Eating solid food without crying: Priceless.
...my peace and quiet was stolen from me...
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Every Which Way But Laos
It gets so that a man doesn't know what to do. So much torment in the world.
Had an argument with The Wife last night, but managed not to go to bed angry. If I believe in any superstitions, that's one of the better ones. I don't know if Charles Burnett came up with "to sleep with anger", because it sounds like one of those infinitesimal pieces of Shakespeare that get turned into film titles. Like The Dogs of War (young Walken as mercenary!), Where Eagles Dare (Eastwood & Burton vs. Nazis!), Dagger of the Mind (Captain Kirk and the brain machine!), The Evil That Men Do (Bronson avenges once more!), North By Northwest (run, Cary, run!), The Quality of Mercy (you go, Mercedes McCambridge!) and "Full Fathom Five" (Sylvia!). All that to say, we were all warm butterflies and hearts before the snoring started.
Then I also understand there's some kind of problem in the Middle East? Did someone leave a cigarette burning? Wow. Sorry, haters!
And top it off with: yesterday I sliced open the tip of my thumb at work. It's a small cut, but it leads to hours upon hours of snivelling discontent (another Shakespeare line, I believe). You don't realize how much you use the tip of your thumb until it's too late. And god forbid the French sea salt on your edamame gets in the cut (Shakespeare again!). Ouch.
So this morning I turn on the tee-vee picture box, and there is classic lighthearted Eastwood: Every Which Way But Loose, with all it's fightin', monkeyin', Ruth Gordon awkward comedy moments. Funnier than you would think. And lessons to be learned. But no matter how you cut it, Sondra Locke was never really very pretty.
After that was Joe vs. The Volcano, a sad little Tom Hanks comedy that is funnier than you would think, also. The best moment is right up front: as workers trudge into their horrible, awful, terrible daily grind of a job, they must walk a jagged, Caligariesque path that matches the company logo. Their offices are dimly lit and sickly green, like David Fincher's dining room. And this is the film that provided the delightful malady "brian cloud". If you hate your job, you'll either vehemently hate or casually love this film. And three Meg Ryans, from the cute years! Even dimly greenlit, she's a doll.
Sorry, was a doll.
And one can never get tired of Dan Hedaya. So there you go.
***
Did I mention Laos? Seems like Cambodia and Laos used to be the trouble spots of the world. What happened to those golden years?
***
The Great Yokai War is ... great. Fantasy from Takashi Miike? Yes. Enjoyable? Yes. Weirder than a Salvador Dali version of Sesame Street? You betcha.
Similarly enjoyable though completely different was Fearless (thank you, import DVD), the new and possibly last film from Jet Li. With an almost too-simple storyline (I was headstrong and carefree, then I experienced sadness and guilt, then I became a better man), the fight scenes are quite good. But overall it doesn't feel particularly thrilling, just good. Sort of a glossy version of any of his earlier films, and by that I don't mean The One or Hero. Ass.
Today we have a bundle of Asian films lined up to prevent our exit into the 100+ degree heat of the day, and I have to admit I'll be happy to play hermit. It was 96 a little while ago, and it's not even noon yet.
...there goes my love rocket red...
Sunday, July 09, 2006
South + West + Shoot + Out + Slam + Results = ? ? ?
It should not surprise me anymore that for the most part poets don't update websites very quickly, one assumes because they are sleeping off a previous night's gallery of debauchment. I'm kidding, of course. Poets are usually too poor and too tired from all that pruning pages to the just-so word and flailing their arms on stage for any really time-consuming or costly debauchment. Discount decadence, that's what we truck in.
So I was hoping that the results of last night's Southwest Shootout in Flagstaff might have been available by now, which they are not. It doesn't help that Google seems incapable of taking the words "south" "west" "shoot" and "out", form a cohesive link to a "poetry" or "slam" event for "2006". Had I not stumbled across the (still not updated) MySpace page, I'd know nothing at all.
But I have associates I care about who performed valiantly, I want to believe, and they might have done well, but...I won't know until someone is kind enough to publicize it. So if you have an in with one of the teams or facilitators of the match, I'd love to hear what went down.
***
Loved seeing the news item today about the appeals court judge who ruled that all the companies that sell and rent "cleaned" versions of films have to stop, and return their stock to Hollywood. The judge stated that they violated federal copyright laws, and nothing is sweeter than the thought of Mr. Squeaky-Clean Suburbanite (middle name possibly Christian?) having to exercise a little precaution, judgement and discretion when letting his kids watch a movie.
Yay, parenting!
***
If you're not you should be...watching Deadwood, Venture Bros. and Mind of Mencia.
***
List of injuries:
What a week. I started with the Table Slammed Little Toe. Then moved up to the Sharp Shelf Corner Minor Leg Scar, followed soon after by the Sharp Shelf Corner Major Leg Scar, which precipitated the Finger Slice, the Thumb Prick (not what you think) and the ever-popular Purple Bruise From Nowhere under one armpit (I wear evil, hurtful shirts, people).
Here's hoping the coming week will be relatively free of calamity.
...that was the river, this is the sea...
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Here, Let Me Ruin It For You
Saw the Pirates of The Caribbean sequel last night with The Wife and The Son, and gosh, I didn't know we were back in the land of Matrix cliffhangers. Let me ruin a mediocre film for you, sort of: to know the finale, you must wait until Summer 2007 and see Episode III...err, I mean, Pirate Trois. As tiring as the film became, I was delighted by its wait-for-it ending. Nicely done, and good for Mssrs. Bruckheimer and Verbinksi for having the gall to make us wait a full year to wrap it up.
***
The Son...yes, he has become a Guitar Hero. GH fiends may abound, but there is a point of pride to be had when your progeny gets a near-perfect score on an old Motorhead song and then agrees to shop with you for a collection of Joan Jett or Helmet. I can play too, but with the old man hands, I can only last a few songs before the palsy begins.
***
A Lovely Moment of Irony: walking through the cattle bays of the local Ikea store trying to find the fastest shortcut to an exit, or in the case of Ikea, the only exit, and the overhead speakers begin playing The Animals' We Gotta Get Out Of This Place. Nice.
...if it's the last thing we ever do....
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Denied!
Well, for those who wanted to see justice done, sorry kids. Maybe next time.
Monday, July 03, 2006
The Best & Worst of So Far
So here's what you need to seek out if you like the moving pictures, thus far in 2006:
Brick - Inspiring low-key combination of Dashiel Hammett and AfterSchool Specials, with some terrific, pulpy-noiry chatter.
Game 6 - A playwright can't decide whether to attend the opening of his latest show, watch the crucial World Series game, or hunt down a whacked-out critic. Michael Keaton and Robert Downey, Jr. are great and the dialogue is deeply enjoyable...in that "real people never talk this much to each other without interrupting" way.
Inside Man - One of the few Spike Lee films where race is not a deciding factor in the story's outcome. A really loving tribute to the crime genre of the 1970s, this film is fun and well-made, and I challenge anyone who hasn't seen it to predict its final act.
The Proposition - A brilliant, ugly tale of revenge and brutality in the name of justice and civilization. Or is it a brilliant, ugly tale of loyalty and honor in the face of civilized justice? Whatever your take, if this is your kind of film (and trust me, baby, it isn't for everyone), you will be floored by the thing. Easily one of the year's best.
And from previous years, viewed in 2006:
Beckett On Film (DVD series) - Wanna get deep? Try small doses of this fascinating, thorough documenting of all things Samuel Beckett. Some of the most precise and confounding pieces of literary cinema I've ever seen. Absolutely captivating.
Cache (2005, DVD) - Sometimes frightening in its quiet inaction, sometimes shocking in its bluntness, this examination of the ghosts that come back to haunt us gives new meaning to the word menacing.
Election (2005, import DVD) - Johnny To is not as commonly known in America as Takashi Miike or Takeshi Kitano have become in the last 10 years, but his films usually best their more outlandish works with quieter style and narrative grace. This one is a story of political corruption that stands among his very best.
Sympathy for Lady Vengeance (2005, import DVD) - Park Chan-Wook is the revenge master, the seeming out-of-nowhere director of the nasty triptych that started with Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance and the brilliant Oldboy. Here he goes all out, combining wry humor, gut-wrenching drama and a loving, artistic visual style to create one of the best films I will have seen this year, even though it was made in 2005. I highly recommend seeking this out. (note: turns out the film was just released this week in American theaters as Lady Vengeance)
Keane (2005, DVD) - A near-unwatchable film, if only because of the deeply harrowing performance by Damien Lewis. If you like the emotionally rough stuff, give it a shot.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005, DVD) - Sweetly applied homage to movies in general, and detective stories in particular. Robert Downey, Jr. and Val Kilmer as mismatched sleuths. Once again, dialogue (and narration, in this case) is king.
Lessons of Darkness (1993, DVD) - Where the hell did this come from? If it weren't for IMDB and Netflix, I never would have found this documentary from Werner Herzog, with its brief runtime and startlingly beautiful imagery of Iraqi oil fields on fire following Gulf War I. A near-silent film, it is not to be missed. And if you have no sense of cinema, try this: let it run in the background at your next rave. Your guests will think you are cool, heavy and relevant, man.
The Three Bruials of Melquiades Estrada (2005, DVD) - Great first film from Tommy Lee Jones. Stark and brutal and filled with small, carefully drawn characters. I loved this movie for and despite its Peckinpah overtures.
Venture Bros. Season 1 and Wonder Showzen Season 1 (2004 and 2005, DVD) - Two brilliant shows for two very different adult audiences. Venture Bros. is a sharply funny homage to Jonny Quest wrapped in contemporary comedy and clever, hammy characterizations. Wonder Showzen is A Clockwork Orange by way of Sesame Street, a subversive and painfully honest - and scarily funny - collection of vignettes played out by deceptively sweet children and puppets. You could make the mistake of letting your 13-year-old watch Venture and it wouldn't be so bad. Don't make that mistake with Showzen.
***
As for this week, The Devil Wears Prada is actually quite enjoyable. Meryl Streep swings her mighty Oscar axe with subtle precision. The others are good, too. And with the exception of a couple of unbelievable moments, the story plays out nicely.
***
Netflix is sending me Harvey Birdman and Pornstar Pets. Yes, you read that right. How to see the gentle human being within the pornstar by way of their relationships with their dogs, cats, turtles and fish. Supposed to be a delightful little documentary. I'm sure it will be enlightening.
***
Wordplay, the Scrabble movie, the spelling bee movies...when will it end? I'm waiting on the Boggle doc, which I think HBO has in development.
...yes he really looks quite religious, he's been an outlaw all his life...
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Season 2
The Venture Bros. began anew this past Sunday night. Season 2 has been hotly anticipated and did not fail to deliver "the goods".
But let me return to a favorite quote from the first season, from an episode entitled "Past Tense" which dealt with a villain from the characters' college days getting his much-sought-after revenge. In it, Dr. "T.S." Venture says regarding a classmate:
"And the weirdness doesn't stop there. All he writes are these way-to-specific poems about monarch butterflies. Total closet-case."
Those in my former circles will get a giddy chuckle from this. Anyone outside of Dallas poetry scenes will walk away with question marks floating above their crania.
...A hell exists on earth? Yes. I won't live in it. That's me...
Sunday, June 25, 2006
An Amusing News Item
Was anyone else doubled over with laughter when they read that E. Pierce Marshall, the son of oil tycoon J. Howard Marshall, died the other day? Not because he died, but how.
An "extremely aggressive infection".
Those of us in the five-figure income bracket call that a former stripper.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Everyone Doesn't Love You, So Just Cut It Out
I read a fellow MySpace blogger's comments that since everyone loved him no matter what he did or said, life was good. And this irks me to no end, not because no one loves me, and I'm getting shorted somehow, but because to set yourself up with the belief that your worth is brightly manifested through the affections and attentions of others just sets you up for a world of disappointment later in life. And that galls me. And if I were Western Euro, it would Gaul me. (Oy, I'm such a stitch!)
It's like that concept of praising someone for something they've done because it will make them feel good, or a part of something, or just because there can't be any losers anymore. Well wake up, people, we are a world full of losers and second-raters and also-rans. You probably are one, too. There are very few people in the world who are genuinely talented in some form or fashion. We do people a great disservice when we fill their heads with huzzahs and applause, when they are at best mediocre and annoying, undisciplined and ignorant. And by ignorant, I mean IGNORANT, not stupid.
MySpace is a terrible example of positive social reinforcement. Look at almost any person's MS page and scroll down through the endless posts by (one assumes) total strangers. Everyone is glad-handing and back-slapping and other bodypart-actionverbing. But how much of it do you think is truly genuine? How much is just part of the big join-in, to be part of the gang, go to the big party, along for the ride. And guess what? There is no ride.
I'm in a foul mood because I'm tired of facade. I'm tired of taking part because of what someone else thinks. And I'm desperately tired of saying things to people that I do not mean, like "I'm doing just fine", "I really like that" and "You are really good at that thing you keep doing".
Knowing your limitations is always a good start. And if you don't think you have any limitations, well, you're a prime candidate for some.
Just remember: everyone does not love you, no matter how complimentary or nice they are to you. The sooner you wrap your head around this concept the better. Invest your efforts into your ability, not what others are doing, or what they think of you.
In the meantime, there's always a sense of humor. Puns sold separately.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Pharmaceutica Comparatio, Thusly
If you judge a man by the size of the contents of his medicine cabinet, then I am a mighty man, indeed. With the onslaught of muscle and nerve trauma due to the aforementioned dental work, I have quadrupled the number of child-proof happy bottles in my reach.
Normally, I have daily vitamins and a stock of Carbatrol on hand. Carbatrol is a medication generally used to counter and prevent partial and generalized seizure disorders, or more simply put, Epilepsy. It has its base in Carbamezipine, which...well, why try to explain when Wickipedia does it so well:
"Carbamezipine and its derivatives' mechanism of action is relatively well understood. Voltage gated sodium channels are the molecular pores that allow brain cells (neurons) to generate action potentials, the electrical event that allows neurons to communicate over long distances. After the sodium channels open, to start the action potential, they inactivate, essentially closing the channel. Carbamezipine stabilizes the inactivated state of sodium channels, meaning that fewer are available to open, making brian cells less excitable."
I'm not about to spell out what's in the vitamins.
Then there are the newcomers. Because of a "leaky" heart valve, I have to take a prophylactic antibiotic before any dental treatment. That sounds nastier than it is. Amoxicillin is their choice. It acts by "inhibiting the synthesis of bacterial cell walls. It inhibits cross-linkage between the linear peptidoglycan polymer chains that make up a major component of the cell wall of gram-positive bacteria." (Thanks again, Wiki-kids!)
Pain from trauma is responded to with two potential capsules. First line of defense goes to Ibuprofen, in the dandy 600 MG contortion known as Super Motrin Formula X. In stores it is simply labelled Motrin, and given a strength of a mere 100 MG. As a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug, it works rather effectively on localized trauma. But the Neutron Bomb of pain relief comes to me in the form of Hydrocodone, commonly called Lortab. Hydrocodone is a codeine-derived drug which relieves pain by binding with opioid receptors in the brain and spinal cord. Sounds like an E ticket ride, which is why they told me not to use it unless in excruciating pain. It sits safely tucked away in the hazardous materials locker, along with the plutonium and Twinkies. You know, things with a 1000-year half-life.
I also have a half-finished box of Tic Tac mints. And strangely, these are what concern me most. If they were to fall into the wrong hands, well, let's just say I don't want to consider the potential for mass-hysteria and destruction of property. Tragedy, with a tingly freshness.
...aspirin will not bring a hooker back to life, so stop taking it...
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Depression, Debt and Dentistry: TRIFECTA!
Wow, talk about your transitional periods. How do I start off? I quit the team. Let me back up: I was dealing with a huge amount of anxiety, and there are two institutions I love that I'm simply not going to pony up to when I'm this depressed. The AFFD, an Asian film festival group based in Dallas that has had its ups and downs these past few months (transitional, indeed). I just don't want to deal with the rickety bullshit of the organization's new and questionable direction. And I quit the slam team. I had made the team, I feel kind of by default, but was giddy enough and ready to take on the challenge of it. But three weeks in and life's little knots had made me so twisty that there is no way I could have sufficiently done my part for the group. A blog is supposed to be one's virtual diary, where you say everything, but there are stressors I will not discuss here, and so only The Wife will ever really know what has been roiling in my brain and gut these last few years. It just built to a point I wasn't appreciating many of the things I needed to. So, I quit the team. Who needs that hassle? A week later I was in a different world completely. All that worry was in the past. I was focused on only one thing: an overly sensitive tooth. My own creativity, family, contacting therapists, everything went on hold as the left side of my head went off like a broken alarm. First a broken chunk thanks to a wad of Dots and accelerated chewing, a refreshed filling, more pain, a temporary crown, more pain, a root canal, and after a mishap involving floss and a sink drain, a new temporary crown. I now have two more weeks to wait before the permanent cementing of a permanent crown, and then the acceptable period of healing from any subsequent trauma. That will leave me with a full trial period of roughly 6 weeks since this began. I feel much better now, by comparison, thank you. But the six-times-the-power-of-over-the-counter-strength Motrin is helping, I can assure you.
And let me tell you, even with sufficient insurance, advanced dental work costs. But it's worth the expense to be rid of the pain.I'm a big wuss about pain. No father's son here, no military offspring bravery here, no sir, sir. I hate pain. And pain inside your head is the worst. Jab me in the arm, not nice but I ain't cryin'. But man, problems in the brain, eyes, teeth and throat are never fun. Point and laugh, I don't care. So, to recap: anxious, depressed; no more team spirit, no more forced socializing; no more committees that wrack my head with frustration. Dealing with personal health and family issues. Keeping chin firmly inclined. Outlook hopeful.
***
Sore jaw. Cannot open past certain angle without pain. Hard to eat. Why am I writing like this? Unable use article, pronoun.
***
We saw Matthew Barney's Drawing Restraint 9 last night. Until the carving commenced, I was actually enjoying the thing. You keep telling yourself, "it's only a false leg, it's only a false leg".
Barney is the New York artiste who created the Cremaster film series, or "Cycle", I believe he called it. Very into controlled motion, lots of ritual, much, much vaseline. Creation, destruction, transformation, and vaseline. Isn't that life in a nutshell? Oh, and it also stars Bjork, Barney's lifemate. If you ever saw Dancer in the Dark and wanted to punish the Icelandic singer for her awful acting skill, just watch this film and you'll be completely satisfied.
***
On DVD, the delightfully sordid Running Scared takes the cake. I especially loved how it fluidly shifted from grimy crime saga to David Lynchian child-pornography freakshow, and then right back to grimy crime saga, without batting an eye. Priceless.
***
Have sent The Manuscript off to a series of possible publishing houses and contests. We'll see how this round goes. I don't plan on any outside activities until early August, when my compatriots run a regional gig right before Nationals take place. We'll be driving down for that week, more as vacation than opportunity, though it will be nice to take part in some side events and watch some of the nation's best control their respective stages. But mostly vacation. No bullshit, no tension.
...the dust of ages settles on your days but I'm not fuckin' around anymore...

when color cartridges go bad

2006-05-04T11:24:00.000-07:00

So I made the inaugural 2006 Dallas Poetry Grind Slam Team, and last night was our first meeting. And tomorrow night I have a feature at the other Dallas Slam in Deep Ellum's Art Bar. So how do I ready myself for these events?

My printer stops functioning.

Woe...is...me.

enough with the (self) demands

2006-04-29T21:29:00.000-07:00

What have I done?

Looks like I'm on a national slam team. Sweet Jesus.

Let me back up a bit.

I feel like lately - in the broader sense, since last September when I started going back to the poetry readings - that I have slowly but surely been getting off-track with the writing that was getting right back on track. Oh, I've been writing but suddenly it became clear that most of my writing was geared toward the slam format (3 minutes in length, bombastic, populist, room for error if you have been labeled a "literary" type). Now I have just completed the qualifying and slam-off sessions, a roast for a close poet acquaintance that required some sharp-edged taunts, work schedules increasingly rabid and my mouth filling with that metallic cloud that usually signals something displeasing. I need hours of healthy sleep, and moments of quiet, blank slate.

I'm getting insufficient amounts of both.

Now, I have a year-long commitment ahead of me...the bulk of which is crammed into the coming summer months, culminating in the national competitions in August.

So with all the creative concerns, family and personal issues I won't detail here, stressors and schedules of work, slam-related potential stressors and schedule issues, and the usual maintenance required for marital bliss and self-introspection, what is a tired old man to do?

Breath deep, and slow.

Repeat.

***

This week's batch:

Game 6 (in theaters) is a marvelous film (especially for writers and actors and people who like meaty but realistic sounding dialogue). It will be hard to find, but I say go and seek it out.

Waiting (DVD) was not as stupid and reprehensible as you might think. Actually pretty funny. Maybe I was just in the right mood. But It worked.

Hostel (DVD), by the same token, was not as disgusting and awful as you might think. Unfortunately it was not a consistently scary movie, or even particularly tense one. But it was watchable, which was a surprise.

Keane (DVD) is weak in resolution but a powerhouse in performance. Damian Lewis was criminally overlooked as best actor this year, and deserves some recognition for his lead role. Hard to watch, but incredible.

The Tenants (DVD) was quite good. based on a Bernard Malamud story, and featuring great turns by Dylan McDermott and Snoop Dogg, a very strong film, if a little frustrating in it's inverted racism.

...coming this summer - Ken Burns: HotDog The Movie...

showzen you right

2006-04-14T07:22:00.000-07:00

Forget what I said about Wonder Showzen. Let me re-phrase:

Wonder Showzen is so black and hilarious and serrated that it makes South Park on its best day look like a low-fat Twinkie filled with pixie dust and sugar kisses.

Yeah, I said it. I said "Twinkie" without using the international trademark symbol.

Because that's how I roll.

***

Don't let the critics and the box office tallies scare you: Slither and Lucky Number Slevin are both good for what ails you, at a discounted price. One is unapologetically nasty, gooey, coy and occasionally even intensely scary, and the other is B-movie amusing with A-list talent, and despite its predictablility will catch you off-guard in the lengthy denouement (say that with a thick French accent, it always sounds better).

***

Trying to cull together roughly 60 pages of poetry for a manuscript...and it's damn hard to do. I have hundreds upon hundreds of poems and when you really start being picky, you realize how much sub-par work you've created. Plus the whole concept of personal poetry, "I" poetry, versus the need for the general audience to feel pulled in by something, and I am left wondering if anyone would read such a tome. Then add to the mix my already burgeoning feeling of inadequacy in trying to write pieces that do not fall easily into slam-mode. All to say, I am feeling a little bloated and moody. Artistically.

(can you dig that, sucka?)

peanut butter badgers

2006-04-09T14:10:00.000-07:00

Last night a couple of guys - one probably 17, the other maybe in his thirties - connected in a magical way by discussing two current online treats: the Peanut Butter Jelly Time song, and the Badger/Mushroom/Snake song. To give you a sample of the latter's lyrics, they go something like this -

"Badger, badger, badger, badger,
badger, badger, badger, badger,
badger, badger, badger, badger,

Mushroom! Mushroom!"

And so on. They are infectious and funny and terribly cute if terribly cute "does it" for you.

Simply seek them in any search engine by trying the words "badger, mushroom" or "peanut butter jelly time"...because I can't even recall what the URLs were.

***

Brick is an awesome piece of film. Rian Johnson, the director, has created a dead-on bit of noir pulp played out in a southern California high school. It is well worth your time and money to see, so rush right out and find it.

***

The ever-prominent delays in blogging have mostly been poetry-related. The slam venue I read at has been coming down to its final qualifying weeks before the big slam-off where a national team will be chosen. I am in the top ten, though the realist in me knows I will not be in the final five. We'll see how that turns out.

***

CURRENT GOOD STUFF

Wonder Showzen, Season 1 on DVD: Subversive, hilarious and deadly dark. Not for children, and really, not for a lot of adults.

Robot Chicken, Season 1 on DVD: Not in the slightest bit subversive, but really funny, and in brief, bite-sized morsels, direct from Adult Swim to you. The work of Seth Green, when he's not suckling at the teat of Mike Myers.

Inside Man: Spike Lee without race-based drama? Huh?! A terrific caper film that falls back lovingly on the crime dramas of the seventies.

(end reel one)

"he'd been so quiet lately..."

2006-03-04T05:15:00.000-08:00

aka "it was bound to happen"

Well, for me to go over a month without a post shows me that my theory was correct: if too many things started rolling, something was going to be left behind.

If you actually read these pages, I apologize for the delay. Poetry events have escalated, with feature opportunities starting to crop up and the Poetry Grind final qualifying weeks winding down. In mid-April we will slam-off to see who sits upon the coveted team for Nationals, so a lot of thought and effort is going into writing and strategizing in that direction.

Plus, writing in general is on the upswing. Don't know what clicked last August that started me going full-bore again, but it hasn't subsided. This, for me as the writer, is only a good thing, whether I slam or not. It's an added bonus that I have a marginal shot at making a team (something that has never happened before).

So, writing, up. Blogging, down. Movie viewing, sadly, also down. On the other hand, almost 100% of what I have seen lately has been brilliant. Cache, Election, The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, The New World and Sympathy for Lady Vengeance...all incredible films of varying shapes and sizes. I highly recommend you seek them all out. Of course, I said almost 100%. There've been disappointments, too. Last night, however, there was a plunging black hole of "cinema" called Ultraviolet, and it was such a sucking, silly, ridiculous and badly-made piece of celluloid that I dare not speak its name again for fear of giving it some kind of arcane power. Utter garbage.

***

Life outside of these artistic ventures has been dulling. Work has been tiresome, and there have been many layoffs over time, leaving our staff worried, tired and fearful. But moreover, sapped of any kind of morale. And that can be worse than any layoff. And I'm not used to a job where regular performance reviews and disciplinary action against under-achievers are not standard practices. It pains me to see people slack around and remain while hard-working folks get pitched, and then to learn that there is no real effort in place to reward those who stick with the company and make things work? It's hard out here for a pimp, yo.

***

I am not one to buy into every well-hyped machine, but I have to say that Starbucks has put out a very nice collection of jazz recordings that I would reccomend for the casual listener. Riverside Jazz is a sweet little set of tracks from the Riverside Records studios, which from 1953 to 1964 provided a venue for up-and-coming jazz musicians like Thelonious Monk, John Coltrane, Wes Montgomery, Bill Evans and Mongo Santamaria. It's a good mix, and even if you have contempt for the store itself, maybe give it a shot.

***

I have been biding my time and holding my tongue regarding the Dena Schlosser case, a local Dallas-area trial of a mother who killed her infant child. The crux of the case is about how the woman was possibly out of her head with post-partum depression and various mental issues, but I am sickened by the fact that someone who could do what she has done could get off with a lifetime in a padded cell. Which is what looks increasingly likely after the first trial was declared a mistrial due to a hung jury. 10 of the 12 jurors wanted insanity, one was undecided, and one said he would not be swayed.

I hate that it will sound like I condone the death penalty, but after reading about what the woman did to her baby, I am inclined to agree with the ostracized juror. Personally, I hope if they return to trial, they don't take the easy way out. Not that anything about such an event is "easy", but I think you know what I mean.

It makes me sad, but the alternative makes me queasy.

***

Well, let me stop here. The coffee's getting cold and I need to get moving.

And attempt to remember that the blog is still here, and in need of more frequent updates.

I notice that my opponent is always on the go

speaking of unimportant, non-events

2006-01-28T07:48:00.000-08:00

Don't believe everything that you read.

I was told that a long time ago, long before I actually started reading much of substance.

I am having a hard time fathoming why such a furor is being made over James Frey's book, A Million Little Pieces, and more specifically why Oprah Winfrey's reactions to the book (pre- and post- reactions, that is) are deemed newsworthy. Let me clarify: they are not.

What this boils down to is: Oprah Winfrey likes books, and thought she liked Frey's but changed her mind. That's it. There is nothing else to this story.

If Winfrey thought the lessons to be learned from Frey's book were valuable, then they were, whether they were true or not, embellished or factual to a T. The valuable lesson frequently does not come from facts but from thought, supposition and consideration. I think what really went down here is: Oprah Winfrey supported a writer, then discovered everything wasn't 100% true in his book, and decided she'd been made to look foolish in her support of him. And we all know how well celebrities appreciate being made to look like they backed the wrong horse. Oprah has the ability to say "this or that book is very good, I liked it" and her millions of fans take her word to heart, and read said book. In this case, she said something positive about something flawed, and assumed her fans would not accept the lesson in their hearts but would instead rebel against her. So she flayed the author on a recent televised show, and frankly, I wonder why Frey even sat still for the relentless beating he took. If he was approached that the show would be a basic interview and had no idea of the lynching to follow, I'm shocked he didn't have the guts to walk out on the whole affair.

Oprah's opinions on anything are just that. They are not news; they are not special. Hers are no more important than your own, so don't be mislead by the flash and glitter of celebrity suggestion.

As for James Frey, the only issue there is that he should have said up front that his work was kinda-sorta-true, used some of those fun phrases like "composite" and "based on". More importantly, his publishers should have at least anticipated that some basic questions would be in order before printing a million little copies.

But I lay a greater blame on Oprah's head than James Frey's. He just wrote a book. She over-reacted and gave the book all the attention it kinda-sorta-maybe did or didn't deserve.

After the Hermes debacle (and specifically her handling of it), this does not surprise me but it does make me feel bad for those who blindly follow her as never wrong, untarnished, and beyond reproach.

post-script: worst films of 2005

2006-01-28T06:04:00.000-08:00

I am always interested in what films people say are the worst of a given year and the reasons why. Personally, I try to steer clear of "easy" or "obvious" bad films. Son of the Mask, Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo and (insert name of 60' s-era television sitcom re-make here) are all easily bad films, and all you have to do is see their trailers to realize what's coming.

What I like is when people bring up films that should have been great, films that would have been stunning cinematic opuses had some small element been slightly different, whether in the creative process or in the ideology or psychology behind the content. Granted, The Amityville Horror re-make doesn't fit in this category, but my other three worst films do (they were Ma Mere, Manderlay and Palindromes).

So imagine my surprise when top critic showmen like Ebert and Roeper each pick their ten worst films of 2005...and they are all comedies and action films that, in many cases, could not have been expected to be very good in the first place. Ebert especially surpises, as he made quite vehement statements against two graphic, cruelty-charged horror films, Chaos and Wolf Creek, yet they don't show up in his list. More importantly, their lists feel very easy...where are the challenging films that failed? Isn't a horribly failed effort that was intended to be something grand and meaningful or artistic and daring far worse than just another cookie-cutter action film or unfunny, try-too-hard comedy? In this humble movie-lovin' blogger's opinion, yes.

Oh, well. Another post on something that isn't that important in the scheme of things.

this post was released in theaters, on cable and DVD and transferred via a Dr. Strange-like ethereal plane on the same day. okay, so the DVD release is actually next tuesday...

2005 movies, part 4: the best

2006-01-12T19:32:00.000-08:00

Well, you made it this far. Here are the very best, more very best, and a few you may not have seen (all listed in alphabetical order):

FIVE FILMS YOU SHOULD FIND (the hard part) AND WATCH (the easy part)

The Beat That My Heart Skipped, Cavite, Domino (yes, that one), Inside Deep Throat and Izo (04). All five are films of unique visual and narrative intensity that, in all but one case (yes, that one) will probably be hard to find in your average, mainstream rental shop.

TEN SECOND BEST

3-Iron, The Aristocrats, The Devil's Rejects, Downfall, Kontroll, Mad Hot Ballroom, Me and You and Everyone We Know, Syriana, War of the Worlds, The Weather Man.

A lovingly precise throwback to 70s-era exploitation/grindhouse movies. A kick in the gut by the master of high drama and crackling good fun. A sweetly bizarre debut about wounded, distant souls. A surprisingly deft tale of a man who finally grasps something of meaning in his life. A perversely profane documentary about a single, ever-changing joke. A humanizing portrait of a real-life villain. A documentary on life as seen through dancing children. A uniquely quiet and haunting love affair. An eastern bloc film combining elements of Fight Club, Subway, Taxi Driver and Amelie. And a film everyone kept calling "complex", for reasons I cannot fathom.

..and, finally...

THE TEN BEST FILMS OF 2005

A History of Violence - David Cronenberg's giddy paean to American Gothic, gangster films and publicity as social nightmare.

Good Night, and Good Luck - George Clooney's rendition of the verbal prizefight between Edward R. Murrow and Joseph McCarthy.

Grizzly Man - Werner Herzog's fascinating documentary about a man who studied bears for 13 years before being killed by one.

Hustle & Flow - Terrence Howard's performance as a pimp who wants to rap drives this surprisingly good-natured film.

Layer Cake - Already forgotten, this brilliant slice of crime is immediately one of the best of its genre.

Lord of War - How does Nicolas Cage out-do The Weather Man? He inhabits the role of a black-market arms dealer.

Nobody Knows - A crushingly hard film to watch, but richly rewarding. As unique as they come.

The President's Last Bang - Piercing, satirical, subversive and funnier than any other political drama, this Korean import is a hard-to-find prize.

Sin City - Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller have created a one-of-a-kind graphic novel film... that is, until the sequel. Brilliant, beautiful and hardcore.

Tony Takitani - Possibly one of the single-most beautifully crafted, poetic and haunting films of the year (in a good way!), this deceptively simple tale is sure to be remembered as one of the decade's finest works of cinematic art.

Well...that's it.

scn

2005 movies, part 3: solid stuff

2006-01-12T19:15:00.000-08:00

Try these on for size:

The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Assault on Precinct 13 (remake), Aeon Flux, Assisted Living, Batman Begins, Capote, The Cave, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Chicken Little, The Comedians of Comedy (film), The Constant Gardener, Constantine, Crash, Doom, Dust to Glory, Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, Fantastic Four, Flightplan, Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire, Heights, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Hostage, Howl's Moving Castle, Jarhead, King Kong, Kung Fu Hustle, Lords of Dogtown, Madagascar, March of the Penguins, Millions, Murderball, Off The Map, Rize, Sahara, Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic, Schultze Gets the Blues, Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus, Serenity, Sky High, Steamboy (04), Transporter 2, Unleashed, Walk the Line, Wedding Crashers, and Yes.

Good, solid flicks of varying degrees. Surely you can find something that fits your sensibilities.

Next: Movies, Part 4 (will it ever end?...yes)

2005 movies, part 2: hidden treasures

2005-12-30T09:30:00.000-08:00

One of the biggest pleasures of watching movies year after year is discovering stuff I'd a) never heard of, b) never been able to find in any theater or video store, or unavailable due to being out of print or c) never been able to catch locally within the respective year of release.

So here is an extended list of discoveries I made this past year:

20:30:40 (04; 2005 AFFD screening) -- Very nice film about three women of varying ages (hence the title) who have varying degrees of success with their respective lovelives and careers.

A SNAKE OF JUNE (02; Tartan DVD) -- One of my personal favorites this year. From the director of Tetsuo: The Iron Man, a dark and strange tale of erotic necessity and misplaced love.

ANATOMY OF HELL (04) -- A Catherine Breillat film I did not dislike, and conversely, found to be one of the more intriguing films this year. A woman and a man make a bargain dealing in observation, sex and emotional detachment, with unexpected results. Nuff said.

ARAKIMENTARI (04; 2005 AFFD screening) -- Documentary about a Japanese photographer; by turns racy, bawdy, profane, beautiful and sad.

BAD TIMING (80; Criterion DVD) -- Who would expect Art Garfunkle and Theresa Russell to make for an interesting pair in this mysterious, overtly sexual film about lives that intertwine with all the worst results?

BREAKING NEWS (04) -- Yet another great Johnnie To film. Find it, buy it, love it.

CIRCLE OF IRON (78) -- David Carradine's valentine to Bruce Lee, it is dated and sometimes laughable, but still a pleasure to watch.

DOPPELGANGER (02) -- Kiyoshi Kurosawa's ever-so-subtle comedy about an inventor who's evil twin appears one day with mixed results. Another great film no one saw.

F FOR FAKE (73; Criterion DVD) -- Seriously dated but still wildly enjoyable if you have the patience and perseverance needed to watch it, this Orson Welles documentary is brilliant moviemaking and deserves the release and credit it never received.

GOZU (03; 2005 AFFD screening) -- This Takashi Miike ode to David Lynch-style weirdness-for-the-sake-of-weirdness was a mystery to me until I watched it at this year's festival, and I discovered an all-new appreciation for it. Not for everyone.

INFERNAL AFFAIRS II (03; 2005 AFFD screening) -- The first film was a solid cop show, but this sequel was charged with a dense drama of Godfather proportions, and was so powerful that I wondered how it never came to be released in the states. Brilliant work all around.

KAMIKAZE GIRLS (04; 2005 AFFD screening) -- Goofy, silly, trippy fun.

LAST LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE (03; 2005 AFFD screening) -- It would be in my top ten if it were from this year. Tadanobu Asano stars as a highly introverted man who finds love while evading mobsters. Not in the slightest as wacky as that sentence sounds. It is a beautiful, lyrical film that deserves far more attention than it got.

LES CHORISTES (04) -- French film about a former composer who becomes a teacher in a school for delinquent boys. Not as schmaltzy as that sentence sounds.

MANCHILD (03; BBC TV/DVD) -- Britain's all-male version of Sex In The City, only all four of the primaries are guys pushing 50.

MPD PSYCHO (00) -- Another limited-run series, this time from Miike. Frequently impenetrable, often darkly comical, and always very, very strange, it's about a team of police trying to track down a pair of killer personalities that can jump from body to body.

RECONSTRUCTION (04) -- So weird. I loved it.

RIDING GIANTS (04) -- A second documentary from Stacy Peralta, this time about the history of big-wave surfing. Exhilarating and great fun.

SAMURAI CHAMPLOO (04) -- Finally, an anime series with the same catchy, intriguing style of storytelling and artwork that Cowboy Bebop had...which makes sense: Kaneshiro Watanabe did both shows.

SAVE THE GREEN PLANET (03; 2005 AFFD screening) -- Dark, dark, dark. Slightly satirical, slightly comical, always fascinating. A great film, and another winning effort from the South Korean film industry.

SURVIVE STYLE 5+ (04) -- Extremely hard to find. Extremely bizarre. Also one of the most colorful and gorgeously created films since Greenaway's The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover. Also, for the ladies: more Asano.

THE BIG RED ONE: THE RECONSTRUCTION (80) -- This re-issue of Samuel Fuller's WWII film on DVD is a victory for fans of the war genre and the director's work.

THE BIG SWINDLE (04) -- Another Korean flick. This caper will seem familiar to anyone who delves regularly into the crime genre, but it still maintains its freshness amidst all the cliches.

THE QUIET FAMILY (98) -- This precursor to Miike's Happiness of the Katikuris is a more subtle, clever and enjoyable thriller that asks the question "why do people keep dying in our possibly haunted inn?"

THE SEA INSIDE (04) -- A real tear-jerker, but also a wonderful film with Javier Bardem giving an award-worthy performance as Ramon Sampedro, an Argentinian man who, once paralyzed from the neck down, fought to gain the right to end his own life.

THIS SO-CALLED DISASTER (03) -- Behind-the-scenes look at the rehearsals of Sam Shepard's play The Late Henry Moss. Terrific review of actors working at their craft, without seeming obnoxious or self-serving.

THROWDOWN (04; 2005 AFFD screening) -- Yet another Johnnie To winner, this time about martial artists working at their craft, without seeming obnoxious or...oh, sorry.

WHEN WILL I BE LOVED (04) -- A perfect little short story of a film.

YAKUZA PAPERS 1: BATTLES WITHOUT HONOR AND HUMANITY (63) -- Pure brilliance. Before there was The Godfather, before there was Goodfellas, this tale of the creation of the modern-day Yakuza triads is the penultimate "gangster" film.

Whew.

Next: MOVIES, part 3

2005 movies, part 1: the filth and the fury

2005-12-28T13:32:00.000-08:00

Because so much goes into my lists of films each year, and because many good films are released late in the year and well into January, it's actually easier for me to start off with the worst list, the disappointments on varying scales, and work up to the great stuff. One of the frustrating aspects of following films and not being a professional reviewer is I have to wait on some great movies that just don't get a wide or immediate release locally.

But the real crap was easy to spot. Let us begin:

THE BIG DISAPPOINTMENTS (if not 2005, year indicated by title)

9 SONGS -- Sex and music: sounds like a great weekend, but somehow this film failed to convey that.

ALEXANDER (04) -- When did warrior epics become silly and boring? Oliver Stone needs to find a new conspiracy to cover before he loses his touch.

ARAGAMI (02) -- Don't forget, I watch LOADS of Asian film, both for festival reasons and for general enjoyment. In this case, the film in question was good for neither purpose.

BAD EDUCATION (04) -- Mommy, I feel all dirty.

BEYOND THE SEA (04) -- When vanity projects go bad.

BON VOYAGE (03) -- Bon boring.

BOOGEYMAN -- The sound of Sam Raimi cashing a check.

BRIDE AND PREJUDICE -- I'll just find some REAL Bollywood.

BRIGHT YOUNG THINGS (04) -- Mommy, I feel sticky dirty.

CRIMINAL (04) -- There's this film, see, it's called Nine Queens.

DOOR IN THE FLOOR (04) -- What a bunch of awful, stupid people.

DOWNTOWN 81 (02) -- That's 81 minutes of drivel. This is why Basquiat is dead.

EMBEDDED (live) (04) -- Tim Robbins: don't quit your day job.

EYE SEE YOU (03) -- Eye feel sleepy.

HIGH TENSION/HAUTE TENSION (04) -- Pretty engaging and scary until you realize THERE'S NO FUCKING WAY IT COULD HAVE HAPPENED. Who needs logic when you have masturbation?

HOTEL RWANDA (04) -- Which, sadly, feels like a movie made for people to cry over and award with statuettes.

HOUSE OF FURY -- Again, there's nothing like bad asian.

HOUSE OF WAX -- Not all that bad, if you like crap.

ICHI THE KILLER, EPISODE 1 (02) -- Animated feature that is so disgusting and reprehensible that it makes the live-action feature look like Sense & Sensibility.

IMAGINARY HEROES -- We're a family with emotional issues. Yawn.

IN MY COUNTRY -- We're a nation with racial injustice. Yawn.

IT'S ALL GONE PETE TONG -- This film has a terrific final third. Unfortunately, you have to sit through a tired, stereotypical first two-thirds to get there.

IVANS XTC (04) -- One of the absolute worst films of 2004. A shame I saw it in 2005. Or in any year, really.

LAND OF THE DEAD -- It was okay. But when you consider it's lineage, well...sigh.

LE SAMOURAI (67) -- What's all the fuss? This "classic" actually sucks!

LOVE BATTLEFIELD (04) -- The worst film the AFFD screened at this year's festival.

MAJOR DUNDEE (67, restored) -- Needs greater restoration.

MALICE @ DOLL (00) -- Really stupid and annoying. There, I've said it. And I can't type the title without my PC thinking it's a link.

MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA -- Pretty, pretty, pretty. Shame it had no heart.

MINDHUNTERS -- I used to like Val Kilmer.

NIGHT WATCH -- I waited all year for this?

SAW 2 -- I like the part with the killer talking. Everything else was vile and muddled.

SEANCE (2000) -- When you've been enthralled with a director's work, a slight film can seem hugely disappointing. This is such a moment.

SEVEN SWORDS -- Pretty, pretty, pretty. Shame it had no guts.

SEX IS COMEDY (03) -- Which was neither sexy nor funny. Nor interesting.

STAR WARS EPISODE III SITHY SITH SITH -- They couldn't even close the deal. Man.

STEALTH -- Ray dies.

THE ICE HARVEST, THE JACKET, THE ISLAND, THE LEOPARD (63), THE LONGEST YARD (redux), THE MAN WHO COPIED, THE PASSION RECUT, THE WILD PARROTS OF TELEGRAPH HILL -- Why?

WISHING STAIRS (03) -- Asians can make crappy horror films, too.

and now...not just badly made, but bad at their very core:
THE ABSOLUTE WORST FILMS OF THE YEAR

A SOUND OF THUNDER -- Childish science-fiction.
ALONE IN THE DARK -- Childish horror.
BAD NEWS BEARS -- Sloppy, irritating remake made solely for cash. Shame on Richard Linklater for agreeing to do so.
BE COOL -- Sloppy, irritating sequel made solely for cash. Shame on everyone involved for agreeing to do so.
DARK WATER -- Unscary, dull and boring remake of an Asian horror film that worked.
ELEKTRA -- Worst Marvel Comic of the year.
KICKING & SCREAMING -- Most unfunny comedy of the year and most shameful Robert Duvall appearance in decades.
KINGDOM OF HEAVEN -- When did period pieces about the crusades become boring?
MAN WITH THE SCREAMING BRAIN -- Unpleasant, unfunny, badly acted, sorrowful on every level.
THE BROTHERS GRIMM -- When Terry Gilliam fails, he really does it up right.
UNDEAD - Worst Australian zombie flick since...okay, just worst.
XXX: STATE OF THE UNION -- Loudest and most racially-charged annoying popcorn film of the year.

and the biggest loser is...
THE WORST FILM OF THE YEAR:

(historic four-way tie!)
MA MERE, MANDERLAY, PALINDROMES and THE AMITYVILLE HORROR (remake)
Four very distinct films that show off the utter mean-spiritedness, cruelty, ugliness, stupidity and disdain in cinema today, and not in a good way. I ultimately disliked all four of these films so intensely that they are awarded the dubious honors of Controlled Burning's WORST FILM status, not just for 2005, but for as long as they make the rounds in theaters and on DVD and cable. Their stories, their characters, the characters' behaviors, the "messages" implicitly or explicitly conveyed; everything about them was counter to what I would call good. In short, these are the movies from which you should steer clear.

Next: MOVIES, Part 2

interlude: the saddest footnote in the world

2005-12-28T13:08:00.000-08:00

I am almost ashamed to say that I do not have a list of favorite books I've read in 2005 because, sadly, I didn't read sufficiently in 2005 to be able to do so. I say almost because my writing is on the upswing as of September after a 3-year drought, and I've been listening to lots of new work by local artists. But reading has taken a hit of late, and I hope to rectify that in 2006.

In the words of Jack Lucas: forgive ME.

2005 gaming

2005-12-28T10:24:00.000-08:00

Holy mackerel. There were some incredible video games this year. Check:

MERCENARIES

Great mix of action, strategy and some good, old-fashioned North Korean wartime humor. I loved Mercenaries mostly because I played it for months before finishing. Any game that lasts months deserves a place, and thankfully this one was awesome anyway.

GRAND THEFT AUTO: SAN ANDREAS (XBOX version)

Speaking of taking months...I had gotten as far as the last mission on the PS2 version when the XBOX released theirs, and I had to start the love all over again. Surely the pinnacle of GTA games (really, what else can they do?), San Andreas was a joy to play...again. For months.

NINJA GAIDEN BLACK

Wow, even on easy this game kicks your ass. But it is huge fun, beautiful to gaze upon, and did I mention it kicks your ass? Good stuff!

SSX: ON TOUR

Long before Amped 3, there was a snowboarding game with an arty twist, and it was by the king of boarders, SSX. Great game, great look.

HALF-LIFE 2 (XBOX version)

I don't care what they say, this was a great game. Gorgeous graphically, fun to play and, despite its HALO 2-style cold ending, highly satisfying as a gaming experience.

BURNOUT: REVENGE

Wow. I mean, wow.

...and the game of the year award goes to:

RESIDENT EVIL 4 and GOD OF WAR (tie)

Two massively satisfying games. Intensely good graphics, strong stories, great characters, terrific, entertaining experiences. Both deserve the highest honors in 2005.

and now...
What My 16-Year-Old Son Played:

Halo 2
Prince of Persia 2
Star Wars Battlefront 2
Peter Jackson’s King Kong
Star Wars Knights of The Old Republic 2

Next: MOVIES, Part 1

2005 music

2005-12-28T09:21:00.000-08:00

I'll start simply: here are 14 things you should listen to (whether they were released in 2005 is actually a moot point; fact is, 2005 is when I heard them):

FIONA APPLE -- EXTRAORDINARY MACHINE

The wait was long but the CD is incredible. A unique voice taken in evocative musical directions.

THE WHITE STRIPES -- GET BEHIND ME SATAN

Another highly anticipated follow-up by an equally unique artist who chose challenging musical avenues, though this one didn't take nearly as long to produce. If you were expecting thirteen more Seven Nation Armies, you'll be sorely disappointed. A wonderful achievement for an industry driven by electric guitars and drum machines.

WARREN ZEVON -- GENIUS: THE BEST OF WARREN ZEVON

An artist I knew only from the radio, this collection is a must-own. Dark, funny, sweet, soulful and jaded, every song is a winner.

DANGER MOUSE & JEMINI -- GHETTO POP LIFE

Sure, that DangerDoom CD was fun, but researching further shows that MF Doom's raps are lightweight compared to the incredible tracks of Danger Mouse. This earlier CD is one of those wonderful "you won't believe what I just found" moments. Seek it out, cherish it.

LYRICS BORN -- SAME SHIT, DIFFERENT DAY

A remixing of an earlier CD, this is another "you won't believe..." moment. Whether you delight in spoken word, rap, hip-hop, eclectica, you name it, this CD is one of the biggest surprises I've come across in the past ten years. Astonishingly good.

MATISYAHU -- LIVE AT STUBB'S

Hasidic reggaeton hip-hop, anyone? You have to hear it to believe it. Great stuff.

GREEN DAY -- AMERICAN IDIOT

I only started listening to this CD during the first months of 2005 and found it to be surprisingly strong from both a songwriting and rocking standpoint. Bravo, punks.

GORILLAZ -- DEMON DAYS

I love these guys. And anyone who can get Dennis Hopper to do spoken word on their CD is cool in my book.

THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY -- ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK RE-ISSUE

A classic film with a classic theme that is easily lampooned, but listen to the rest of this CD and you'll find a strangely evocative, powerful series of compositions by OST god Ennio Morricone.

AQUALUNG -- STRANGE & BEAUTIFUL

Hell, I usually don't care for music that sounds like this, but I was eerily drawn into these songs, with their crafty, car-commercial, airy-artiness. I have yet to tell myself it's all a joke. I really dig this CD.

BECK - GUERO

Choosy listeners don't always choose Beck. But this collection of "songs" is highly catchy, well-done and enjoyable. Don't let the blank stare fool you.

DAVID SEDARIS -- DRESS YOUR FAMILY IN CORDUROY AND DENIM

This multi-CD reading of his latest book is a step in the right direction for humorist/essayist Sedaris, who had a few depressing bouts of unreadable there for a while. Half-expecting to be deeply disappointed, I was happily surprised.

PATTON OSWALT -- FEELIN' KINDA PATTON/222 live&uncut

These two versions of the same concert are hilarious and wonderful. The best kinds of comedy CDs, they never let up and never disappoint. Unfortunately, they also set the bar kind of high for any other work the comic does (see Dave Attell for example...Skanks For The Memories kills; Hey, Your Mouth's Not Pregnant does not). The Comedians of Comedy stuff isn't as non-stop funny, but hey, we'll see where the new-found success takes this kid (WINK).

and now...
What My 16-Year-Old Son Listened To:

Santana -- Shaman
Green Day -- American Idiot
Black-Eyed Peas -- Monkey Business
Shakira -- Oral Fixation Vol. 1
Nickleback -- All The Right Reasons

Next up: GAMING

it begins...

2005-12-28T09:16:00.000-08:00

Here come the lists.

This time out, I am adding an extra set of opinions: those of my 16-year-old son. Don't want to seem hokey or gimmicky in any way, but I was interested in what he liked this year, so you'll get a taste of opinion from Controlled Jr.

Okay, let's go.

i mean, lyrics born

2005-12-18T19:18:00.000-08:00

Lyrics Born.

Lyrics Born?

Lyrics Born.

Lyrics freakin' Born.

Lyrics Born!

Gosh darn it, I like him.

lyrics born

all things upon us

2005-12-10T05:26:00.000-08:00

Wrap-up season is just around the corner. I'll be posting the best games, music and movies of 2005 in this space as the month progresses. So if you like lists, and you like ideas from people you don't know, stick around.

***

Dunn Bros. was cancelled due to an ice storm, so to speak. There was inclement weather preventing folks from going for simple safety's sake, but there was also a different kind of storm brewing. A patron of the coffee shop didn't care for some of the previous week's words, and filed a complaint with the corporate office. This surprised me as I didn't know Dunn Bros. had a corporate office. The rallying cry went out to a) tone down work for a while and b) write/read pieces with free speech themes.

The readings are promoted in advance as free-speech events, and that folks who don't care for it are welcome to stay or go, as they please. The manager of the place has been extremely accomodating and supportive of the readings, which is why it's a little diappointing that one person (in all the months they've been doing readings there) can cause such a straightening of spines.

My hope is that everything will blow over and we can resume our normal path, which is not to worry about what anyone might say.

***

The tree is up, lit and decorated; the gifts are all wrapped and happy in the nestling space; the weather went wintry on us for two days; I don't know about you, but I want to fast-forward to the holidays.

eezy-beezy-beezy-beezy-beezy-beezy-boo

running on empty

2005-12-04T16:13:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, November 30th:

Dunn Bros. was great. If no scoring took place. Heh.

I took a sweet sixth place...let me repeat this part of the show: a sweet sixth place. Took home a box for wine as a prize. Not a box of wine. A box for wine. Crystal took home a sweet Jason Carney t-shirt that I won't print here. Again, heh.

Friday, December 2nd:

Joaquin was kind enough to explain what IWPS was, and to say that I should give it a shot. A good guy, that Joaquin.

IWPS is an national individual poetry competition which they are apparently doing only one last time in 2006. There is a competition to see who gets to represent the Dallas-are poets in a couple weeks, and eligibility for that hinges on coming in first or second at one of two remaining slams. I cannot attend the second one; the first was tonight. I did not make it.

"Despite, despite, despite"...a valiant effort, but badly mis-timed. I came in fourth and had no problem with it. I was resigned to one shot, and I got it. It did, however, make me sit up and realize I can't go off on a slam binge and not have an idea of how long a piece will read. That was just unfortunate, ill-preparation on my part.

Feh.

Saturday, December 3rd:

Aeon Flux and Walk The Line were highly enjoyable. AF was satisfactory science-fiction, something you get very little of these days, and WTL was far better than I expected...all due to Joaquin Phoenix, Reese Witherspoon and the incredible songs of Johnny Cash. I recommend both.

Also saw Murderball, on DVD. Great film. Highly, highly recommend it.

Kicking and Screaming, on the other hand, was a wretched piece of bad "wacky" comedy. Will Ferrell should be a bit more choosy with his movies.

Lastly, saw Les Choristes on cable the other day. It was a marvelous piece of work. Check it out, especially all you teachers who think the job just isn't worth it.

wake up, mr. west! wake up mr. west!

running running running

2005-11-25T18:40:00.000-08:00

I feel like I've been running in circles - albeit very wide ones - since five this morning. Black Monday - maybe. It was definitely grey monday, with a sky of Spielbergian clouds covering everything for almost the entire day. With a single exception I have completed both Christmas shopping and the wife's birthday shopping...tasks I told myself I would begin sooner than I did and complete for less cash. But that's really par for the course when it comes to the holidays.

It feels good to have it all done, though. Crystal's birthday is a few days before Christmas, and she deserves for the day to be glorious so it doesn't get pressed aside by the birth of Christ, etc, etc. FrostyGrinchRudolphCrystal'sBirthdayAChristmasStoryNoelStockingsTreeLights - wha? What was that? That's how I think she views it.

Have gotten the Toys for Tots items as well, both through her office and our local poetry slam. Charity begins at an open mic, or something like that.

The Ice Harvest was disappointing, if only in that it should have been marketed as a noirish crime film and not a slapsticky comedy. Oliver Platt is his usual brilliant self. His scenes are worth the price of admission. However, the Crazy Man in front of us in the local art-house theater made for an even more entertaining night. Crys thinks he had Tourette's, but I think he was just a whole lotta crunk. He waved his arms, laughed inappropriately, spoke loudly words that had nothing in common with the scenes he was viewing, and generally made himself seem quite scary. At one point she leaned over to me and said "Are you seeing this?" and I told her I was ignoring it...that crazy won't quiet down when shushed.

That aside, we also got to visit with The Canadian Sister, who made her annual pilgrimage to the homestead. Since she's here this week we won't see her at Christmas. This is too bad but I don't blame them for taking the time to be alone during some part of the holidays. That's how I'd play it.

The alleged classic Le Samourai was disappointing. The Comedians of Comedy tour film was better than expected, mostly because of Brian Posehn and (more so) Zach Galifinakis (sorry, probably misspelled that). Disc three of the Aeon Flux box set is the gem; the original shorts are on there and are as awesome today as they were back in the days of Liquid Television.

Still striving to have several new pieces polished before this coming Wednesday's Dunn Bros. And really, apart from napping, that's all I have.

Here's to everyone who didn't freak out while shopping today. You were dead-eyed and soulless, but I salute you all.

that's mr. lurkey, thank you

dunn bros. results for wednesday, november 16th

2005-11-19T08:45:00.000-08:00

Another fine excursion at the Dunn Bros. Poetry Grind, with Joaquin and Michael Guinn taking top places with extraordinary skill and righteous scores. I actually managed a third-place showing despite a time penalty on the second piece. I really need to cut those ad-libs down a notch. And the Slam Courage award goes to Colin, who faltered halfway through his first piece and made up for it with the second round. He approached the matter not with embarrassment, angry disgust or even so much as self-deprecating sarcasm...he was cool, calm and dignified, and I admire him all the more for it. He's one to watch.

***

Thanksgiving Family Movie Alert! Harry Potter and The Gobbler of Fire: just dandy, go and enjoy.

***

Half-Life 2 for XBOX has gotten short shrift due to that 360 thingie coming out here in the next few days. The game is terrific, fun and very reminiscent of its predecessor. Good stuff.

***

Holidays are coming. Be sure to act nice until January 7th, when we can all go back to being complete assholes. That is, except for you shoppers...you go right on being the little manic freaks that you always are.

Thus endeth the lesson.

shorty archives

2005-11-12T06:46:00.000-08:00

errant, in arrears

he was the kind of man who,
when translating the language of love,
got the verbs all wrong.

***

you go, gamera!

giant turtle!
jet-flame feet!
psychic zookeeper!
island terror!
giant bat-like bird race!
unnatural origin!
radioactive plight!
saki-drinking tenured professor!
grizzled ex-cop!
mysterious atoll!
military lasers!
ultimate showdown!
mt fuji!
and buildings that crumble
like models!
TOHO!
TOHO!
TOHO!

***

the dirt of golgotha

the dirt of golgotha,
stained with the threat of faith,
is daily ground upward into
our worn and weary soles
yet we brush it away with
disregard, contempt,
as tedium crushes our bones
to paste
with which the next set of walls
will be mortared

row well, and live.

jarwha-?

2005-11-12T05:25:00.000-08:00

I saw Jarhead the other night. Really a great movie. Well-acted, some beautifully haunting images, a decent amount of humor, and an all-around impressive film...until you wake up the next morning.

Jarhead is one of the most impressive forgettable films I've seen in ages. I rarely have such a strong reaction while in a theater and then less than 24 hours later can't come up with much to recommend, save for my own memories of thinking I would recommend it.

I'm sorry, what was I talking about?

***

The armload is light this week. Been working many hours of overtime and gone to a poetry event here and there. Also trying to stay caught up with little things like family gatherings, Family Guy, stacks of paper on my desk, the checkbook, more overtime...I'm also writing and discussing writing with The Beautiful Wife, who has decided that it's time to re-evaluate her own creativity. After her many hours of overtime, that is. Oh, and marital relations, we can't forget those. Trying to maintain the good life on all fronts.

So, not much to report. Jar-huh? is mentioned above. I have Delon's Le Samourai and the final edition of MPD Psycho burning a hole in the desk upon which our TV stands, and we did recently watch a new Dave Attell concert DVD that was okay, but no great shakes. Nothing to see here, move along.

***

Wacky dreams last night. First I had one where I was trying to match the right box to the right place in the warehouse...this was not far from what I spent hours doing this week at work, but this was more of the evil-Tetris version, very dreamstate, very frustrating when all you want is blue-sky/happy-bunny/floaty-balloon sleep. Then, second dream: The Beautiful Wife and I were in a strange theater trying to watch Capote (which I have not seen, so it's going to freak me out if when we finally see it I have deja vu), but these two women were disrupting the show, making noise from the back. I went to talk with them and they were very pleasant but clearly crazy, and we ended up leaving the theater before the show ended. Ran through an adjoining restaurant and shopping center, and all I could think was "why are running? it makes us look like we're the ones who were causing trouble". No sun, no sky, no bunnies, no balloons. I really need to up my dosage of Tylenol PM.

***

So, not feeling terribly rested, and a long day ahead. Cutting you loose, but first a little GAMING REVIEW:

Far Cry Instincts - Awesome, sweet, sweet and awesome. Beautifully-rendered, terrific fun, and not overly hard like some games (COUGHCallofCthuhluHACKNinjaGaidenHARUMPH).

The Warriors - Half the fun in starting this game was explaining the original film to TBW. Pure fighter, but looks like fun.

Half-Life 2 - The XBOX port of this game comes out this Tuesday, and I am waiting like a little Star Wars geekboy in hopes that it will be everything I want and more.

Frankly, I don't care about the 360. I'm having way too much fun with the current crop of original XBOX games. I'm still hustling San Andreas, riding through Burnout Revenge and SSX On Tour, and now these new ones. I'm loving the XBOX now more than ever.

360 is for suckers.

warriors, come out and playeeeeee!

scotch

2005-11-05T08:28:00.000-08:00

If you're a local poet, chances are just that one word will conjure a hearty laugh. Especially if you were at Dan's Silverleaf in Denton on November 1st, when an incident involving (apparently) a LOT of scotch took place. Scotch, and Jesus, and a bad run of luck. But you had to be there.

As my old friend Raymond used to say, let's make this chapter a mystery.

benet's fourth edition - for those who like to lord it over the rest of us!

two sides of unlikability

2005-10-30T04:47:00.000-08:00

Two of the better films I've seen this year have been Nicolas Cage vehicles that tell the tales of men doing less-than-honorable jobs at making their ways through life. Lord of War was - as they tend to say - a tour-de-force about an arms dealer who wrestles with his occupation, how it affects those closest to him and the impact it has upon his very soul. The Weather Man, which opened Friday, is about a man whose occupation requires far less effort, yet who hasn't made great strides in his personal life and is left with a very empty, stumbling existence. Both men try to do some things right, or as you and I would deem them right, and in some instances they make baby steps of progress and in others they fall flat. Lord of War is the superior film - it is the cold steel bullet that would easily shatter The Weather Man's sad archer.

But both films are highly recommended for the fact that Nicolas Cage is strong as ever - an affecting cinematic presence in films that deserve attention (whether they get them or not). I was concerned after a string of action-oriented films that - while enjoyable - weren't up to the caliber of material that I came to know Cage for. If you consider every film he starred in up to the Oscar winner (Leaving Las Vegas), he rarely went for the easy game. But statue in hand, there were strings of clunky, loud popcorn-machines. And let me reiterate: they were all enjoyable movies. But now, films like Adaptation, LoW and TWM have (in this writer's humble opinion) elevated him back to a plane of dramatic content that feels a little more weighty. There's some heft to the ride, and I highly suggest you seek out these films and give them a shot.

really into chekhov

2005-10-28T11:45:00.000-07:00

Ensign Pavel Chekhov always seemed to be a confused young man. The way his brow would furrow when faced with a difficult situation, well, you just knew he was ripe for a scam artist or slick operator to have their way with him.

But this week, we learned that George Takei came out of the closet, and it all becomes clear now. Sulu could have lulled Chekhov into some sordid experimentation with little more than the promise of a cute, trilling tribble and some Saurian brandy back in his quarters. It just seems so obvious: Sulu never made a play for Lt. Uhura, but his evil alternate universe doppelganger did. And in a lost episode, Sulu volunteered to head up the Federation Musical Theater Company.

To boldly go where no man has gone before, indeed.

photon torpedo ready, captain!

the armload

2005-10-22T20:20:00.000-07:00

What a mixed bag I have for you today.

-GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK
-A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE
(both in theaters)

Easily two of the year's very best films. I can't say enough good about them. Clooney's Good Night is especially surprising in its simplistic, easy strength, humor and message, which applies so directly to our country right now that it's just eerie. These are both winners, and worth your time and money to see in first-run release.

-SERENITY
(in theaters)

Having never watched an episode of Firefly but having heard everyone gush over Fox's now defunct space western, I was naturally skeptical of whether Serenity would be any good or not. Well, surprise. Highly entertaining, very enjoyable, and dark enough in places to make George Lucas jealous. And not so much CG that you forget you're watching a story unfold.

-THE AMITYVILLE HORROR (remake)
-THE FOG (remake)
(DVD/in theaters, respectively)

One is vile, the other just dull. Neither were really necessary. Both are chock-full of those slam-in-your-face, loud-blast-of-music scares that have become the norm in most contemporary movies. Unfortunately, this is also one of the most annoying and unpleasant devices found in film today. Note to filmmakers: please stop.. You're giving us headaches.

-MAN WITH THE SCREAMING BRAIN
(DVD)

Yikes. Wow, I never imagined something could be so ineptly written and filmed that even Bruce Campbell wouldn't be entertaining. Unfortunately this Z-grade horror-comedy was written and directed by Bruce Campbell. So poorly done that the people of Bulgaria should feel deep shame for allowing it to be made in their country.

-IT'S ALL GONE PETE TONG
(DVD)

Pseudo-documentary of a drugged-out DJ who loses his hearing and then tries to clean up his act and become a human being. The last 30 minutes are quite good, but the hour that precedes them is an unpleasant, cliche-ridden look at someone whose habit has gotten away from them, and we've seen this sort of thing a dozen times before in far better films. Ask and I'll recommend a few. If that's your kind of thing.

-MY SUMMER OF LOVE
(DVD)

My annoying, boring, stupid summer of teenage girls acting out. It's like a luridly bad version of Heavenly Creatures, or Thirteen without Holly Hunter but with British accents.

-THE BROWN BUNNY
(DVD)

A jarringly static film. It leaves me wondering about director Vincent Gallo's intentions, what he wanted to show or achieve with this very admirable but complete failure of a film. I'm just shaking my head. Rent Buffalo '66 instead.

-SCHULTZE GETS THE BLUES
(DVD)

Really delightful tale of a retired German man who plays polka accordion, and then one day discovers Zydeco music and travels to America. Very nice film. Check it out.

-DOOM
(in theaters)

Nobody's going to mistake this for Good Night, and Good Luck. But it is fun and gory and exciting and fun. If you like that sort of thing, run right out and soak your toes in the grue.

Enjoy!

dunn bros. poetry grind slam results

2005-10-20T21:10:00.000-07:00

Preparing for a slam, for me, is a strange and wonderful thing. I have loads of material to pick from, and I suddenly find all of it lacking. I flounder, I settle, and I gather what I can and move forward. I took three pieces last night to the Dunn Bros. Poetry Grind slam, in a very nice joint in Addison, which is a hell of a lot closer to home than Deep Ellum.

Of the three pieces, I knew halfway through the slam that some of the judges would hate the one I was planning as my second, so I changed my order and did my "backup" piece second.

It killed.

Unfortunately, my first piece, which I happened to like, did poorly, though I maintain that being the first one up made me the score-creep sacrifice. Oh, well.

So with the mediocre beginning and the awesome finish, I somehow managed to pull out a third place showing. I was really quite shocked.

So there you go.

While it is not my intention to be part of a slam team, I have to admit a certain thrill at the prospect of doing decently amongst the giants of Dallas poetry. Or at least amongst the giants that show up.

So, I can't wait to see what happens next. And I get the added plus of feeling slightly more inspired about writing in general. But we all know how dubious that sensation can be.

genuflecting over nostalgia

2005-10-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

I'm not even sure now what sparked this one, but I recently recalled a place from childhood that I held very dear.

When I lived in Colorado Springs during my elementary years (kindergarten through my first year of junior high), there were many sites that I remember fondly: movie theaters, for instance. There was a spherical theater that was on the top of a hill across from a mall, and I went there many Saturday mornings for old science fiction films as well as contemporary movies. It may have been the precursor to today's "stadium-seating" concept. It was in this theater I saw Latitude Zero, with Richard Jaeckel and Caesar Romero. LZ was the tale of explorers who go so far under the ocean they find an upside-down realm where monsters still live, and they must save the world from a megalomaniac who intends total domination. I think. Understand, all of these memories are anointed with childhood haze. Some of the details might be under the influence of subconscious creative license.

Far as I can tell, you can't find this film any more. It's on a short list of potentially out-of-print movies I have listed over the years, including Hearts of Darkness, Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, Candy Mountain, Straight to Hell, Walker, Cemetery Man and Island of Terror.

Other theaters include the downtown hole in the wall that premiered Rollerball, the two level tri-plex up the street from it, the dual theater closer to home with a drive-in behind it and the tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it college theater that I went to with my mother to see The Mad Adventures of Rabbi Jacob. There was also the local shopping center that had theaters on either end, one of which was beside a Shakey's Pizza. I saw Jaws the year it opened in that theater. I was 12.

Apart from theaters, I remember the storm-drain canyons that we rode our bikes through to go miles from home and play like there was no such concept as danger in the world. There was a cave in one of the local parks that was shaped like the upper torso of a man. There was a huge resort where I learned to ski. And of course, there was Pike's Peak and the white-capped mountain range I woke to every day.

But this latest memory was of something I haven't thought about for decades: the bike shop. The bike shop was a ratty little business where they sold bikes and accessories as well as did repairs. But my greater joy was the two rows of shelves where they kept old comic books. This was back in the years when old, frayed, torn comic books were a joy. You didn't care if they weren't perfect, because the stories and images inside were so incredibly cool. Running in, seeing a cover that made your eyes light up, and reading through the flimsy thing in the back seat of the car before you ever got home. Devouring those stories was one of the biggest joys of childhood, and really is the reason comics are cool. It's not the mylar bags or special editions or cover variations...it was the simple fun of the stories and the wild, unbelievable action.

Perhaps this is the giddiness my son will use when telling his children about videogames...I don't know.

I love my childhood, because I think I really did have it all. Seeming freedom, inventive and exhausting play, beautiful vistas and the purity of musty comic book bike shops and uniquely memorable movie theaters. A first-grade girlfriend with a bunny hutch in her backyard. A sixth-grade girlfriend whose name is the same as my wife's. A classically diverse group of friends and neighbors. Creature Features. Hot Wheels and Matchbox, though Hot Wheels' creators, Mattel, came up with the track (which I ran all through our home).

Scrambling around, making everything work, making everything count. Being a kid, with the occasional dog-eared page.

recent observations: overlooked!

2005-10-08T08:28:00.000-07:00

Well, the Nobel committee has once again snubbed me in favor of a short list of international bons vivants and know-it-alls.

I guess it really is all about who you know. Bona fide, indeed!

return of the chosen profession

2005-10-06T17:36:00.000-07:00

occupation

…and then there was jack kerouac
who looked like a loathsome car salesman,
and in truth, sounded like a bored car salesman,
one with no fire left, no remaining pitch,
but enough rough, good looks to
make it with the ladies and occasionally
get a free drink from some young kid
who mistook him for a retired ballplayer;
but mostly he just seemed glum about everything,
a man who seemed to scorn the very road
he helped to pave…

…down the street hobbled whitman and burroughs,
census takers in their square, pallbearer suits…

…poe was an irritated barber…

…gunn was a mechanic who specialized
in refitting the engines of classic beasts…

…carney ran a pawn shop in the worst part of town…

…baraka was a grocer who handed out penny candy,
but only to children who were polite and told the truth…

…and di prima led the women’s choir in the temperance league,
yet harbored insatiable lust beneath her woolen cloak.

scn/8-1-5

house fever

2005-10-02T14:42:00.000-07:00

House, M.D. (Fox, Tuesday nights) – Hugh Laurie drama about a doctor with a decidedly different approach to live and work. Good stuff. Could do without the CSI guts-cam.

House of D (on DVD) – David Duchovny’s film about growing up in the sixties, or something. Frankly, I don’t care. The best thing I ever saw David Duchovny in was an episode of The Larry Sanders Show.

House of Blues (in a metropolitan center near you) – the Blues Brothers-inspired club chain and commerce center that only slightly bypasses the Hard Rock Café world of cheesy venues.

House of Leaves (possibly in a book store near you, but most likely being discussed right now in a thousand fevered chat rooms) – Mark Danielewski’s twisted novel about strange goings on…nuff said.

House of Flying Daggers (on DVD) – Zhang Yimou’s follow-up to the emotionally superior and more sumptuously designed Hero, but still a great movie, with an ending that blows everything before it away.

House of Sand and Fog (on DVD and cable) – Depressing, depressing, oh dear good lord how depressing.

House of Wax (on DVD) – Stupid twenty-something remake of the classic Vincent Price horror film. Does not completely suck.

House of Games (on DVD) – The film that started it all for me on David Mamet. Dated now, but still priceless.

House of 1000 Corpses (on DVD) – Really awful feature by Rob Zombie which preceded The Devil’s Rejects, also by Mr. Zombie, which is quite good.

House of the Dead (unfortunately surviving on DVD) – Worse than 1000 Corpses? I got two words for ya…Uwe Boll. This stinking adaptation of the videogame of the same name is so bad you’ll slap yourself for not reading more books.

momma told me not to come

and don't come back

2005-10-02T05:23:00.000-07:00

HBO cancelled the Lisa Kudrow vehicle The Comeback, a show so uncomfortably disengaging in its straightforward disdain for celebrity that it actually made Larry David wince. I don’t understand the cancellation, though. This is an organization that kept Arliss on the air for more years than I can remember. The Comeback, despite its kick-to-the-throat sensitivities, at least had some critical word of mouth behind it.

Hell, Carnivale got two seasons.

your daily shame

2005-10-02T04:39:00.000-07:00

There was a piece in the paper roughly two weeks ago that stated Oprah Winfrey “allowed” the CEO of Hermes to apologize on air for her treatment in Paris a couple of months back. She said, “Everybody who’s ever been snubbed because you were not chic enough or the right class or the right color or whatever…you know that that is very humiliating, and that is exactly what happened to me.” (Quote from Dallas Morning News, provided by AP wire service)

What she fails to mention - again - is that she arrived at the famous boutique 15 minutes after closing time, when any other person, despite their race, class or level of chicary, would have been denied entry. Oprah Winfrey chose to placate her own embarrassment by using her celebrity status to create a sort of mini-cause that she could rally her audience around in the name of treating people right. And that’s wrong.

a month of woe

2005-10-02T03:58:00.000-07:00

Too eventful of late for so many reasons, and not many of them good.

I haven't blogged out of sheer exhaustion, a severe inability to string more than three or four words together, let alone whole paragraphs, in the pursuit of snarky observation.

First, Katrina, Nawlins Destroyah, Mississippi Carnate Queen, rides the e-ticket of massive devastation through our fair southern brothers’ palisade, flattening or submerging their territories. Americans become caring again, as they are want to do during times of crisis. Why it takes a disaster in this country to bring us together as a singularly focused nation I’ll never understand. Perhaps that old Twilight Zone tale of creating an alien enemy to unify the global will of the people wasn’t so far off the mark. There was some (admittedly understandable) bashing of the president, sure, and the talking heads all railed and pointed fingers, but overall we saw people acting like a God’s children; we saw the best of what our capabilities will allow.

So a few weeks pass, and here comes Rita. But Rita was a bit of a tease, especially to those of us in the Dallas area. We were girded for a weekend of harsh storms and high winds, and we got the same sunny, humid days we'd been experiencing for the past...seven months.

Then came a layoff at my place of employment. One year after the last layoff, and almost 4 years after the last layoff by which I was adversely impacted. My department had been showing signs of improvement, five people doing the work of 6 or 7, and due to a re-focusing of corporate efforts to strengthen another division of the business, they let a number of people go. Unfortunately they let 2 of our 5 go also, and now 3 are handling the entire workload. This is frustrating and difficult, but also challenging in the best ways. My hope is that our minimalist team will pull through and end up looking better for the wear. But I cannot pretend that I am not feeling stress at levels I have not felt since being out of work, and since that is the alternative, it seems like these should be better times.

So we're a little frayed around the edges here at Casa de Controlled Burning, but my soul is intact. My son just turned 16, I’m writing again with a slightly more determined focus, and I've got Burnout Revenge to buoy the lower moments.

neither bought for gold, nor to the devil sold

the armload, refilled, short and sweet

2005-09-18T21:01:00.000-07:00

Wow, talk about your mixed bags:

Lord of War (in theaters) - Terrific.

Ma Mere (on DVD) - Drastic.

Off The Map (on DVD) - Very nice.

Ivans xtc (on DVD) - Unwatchable.

The Quiet Family (on DVD) - Good start, weak finish.

Assisted Living (on DVD) - Nice, but very sad.

The 40 Year Old Virgin (in theaters) - Very funny.

Transporter 2 (in theaters) - Loads of ridiculous fun.

Silver City (on DVD) - Weak but still watchable.

MPD Psycho (volume 2, on DVD) - Great stuff, if you can stomach and/or understand it.

Hellevator: The Bottled Fools (on DVD) - Bizarre but very interesting.

ques es mas macho, pineapple o knife?

adrenaline junkie

2005-09-18T16:49:00.000-07:00

So far this year there have a been a handful of games that I'd lay claim to as best of year material, without benefit of the year being over. Some - Resident Evil 4 and God of War - were so artistically polished that your jaw dropped from the sheer look of things before you ever got into the immensely enjoyable gameplay. Others - San Andreas for the Xbox and Mercenaries - were vast and fun and terrifically entertaining. But as of five days ago I have been immersed in the most highly-charged game I've played since...well, since the last iteration of the same series: Burnout Revenge.

Imagine yourself strapped to the nose of a bullet train careening down the streets of various cities or country roads. Add to that the sheer insanity of plowing through traffic and bouncing cars off said roads without any risk to your own hide. Burnout Revenge is all about blurred speed and the victorious travesties of auto damage.

Buy it, praise it, and remember to stop occasionally for meals, sleep and day jobs.

favorite girl; favorite films

2005-09-08T19:51:00.000-07:00

Crys has a different take on film than I do. Not better, not worse. Just different. She actually majored in film at college while I was devouring it in a much less scholastic manner. Yet our tastes are more frequently aligned than conflicting.

My wife is a huge fan of Wong Kar Wai, and I've been dutiful in obtaining for her DVDs of every one of his films. Similarly, she loves Spalding Gray, and forgive me if this sounds insensitive, but now that he's dead it shouldn't be so hard to get DVDs of his work. She recently purchased a copy of Paris is Burning, an early-90s documentary on the craft and community behind Harlem drag balls and the art of voguing. The film, directed by Jennie Livingston, received critical raves but disappeared after its initial release. I once asked the director if she anticipated a DVD release, and she didn't make it sound promising. But now Miramax has unceremoniously (and silently) dumped the film on DVD, with no marketing or promotion that I can discern. So my lovely wife has her copy of the film, one she prizes very highly. I always assumed that it was one of her favorites, but I learned that while very special to her, her favorite films are:

(listed alphabetically)

FALLEN ANGELS - Wong Kar Wai, 1995

THE GODFATHER, PART II - Francis Ford Coppola, 1974

SWIMMING TO CAMBODIA - Jonathan Demme, 1987

THIRTY TWO SHORT FILMS ABOUT GLENN GOULD - Francois Girard, 1993

VANYA ON 42ND STREET - Louis Malle, 1994

I have to say that I only learned about Gould and Vanya because of her interest, and fell in love with them immediately. Cambodia was something I discovered all on my own, and I gradually became a fan of the Godfather films over a couple of decades. Fallen Angels, I must admit, is one of those WKW films I have yet to see.

I recommend them all highly. My girl has great taste.

But since it's my blog and everything eventually comes down to what I think, listed below in no particular order are some of the best and most effective films I've ever seen:

BATTLES WITHOUT HONOR AND HUMANITY - 1973
Kinji Fukasaku's best entry from the Yakuza Papers series. The precursor to so many genre pictures it's just silly.

CHUNGKING EXPRESS / IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE - 1994 / 2000
Okay, if we're going to talk Wong Kar Wai, these would be my choices.

DEAD MAN / GHOST DOG: THE WAY OF THE SAMURAI - 1995 / 1999
And when the discussion came up of how we both wished we liked Jim Jarmusch's films more, I threw these out as my favorites, both terrific examples of Zen storytelling and filmmaking.

REJECTED - 2000
Don Hertzfeldt's screamingly funny psychotic break of a short film about advertising.

MY BEST FIEND / BURDEN OF DREAMS - 1999 / 1982
Documentary cousins: Werner Herzog's valentine to frequent collaborator and thorn-in-side Klaus Kinski, and Les Blank's amazing look at the production of Herzog's Fitzcarraldo. Hands down two of the best documentaries ever filmed.

HEARTS OF DARKNESS: A FILMMAKER'S APOCALYPSE - 1991
George Hickenlooper's chronicle of the near-disasterous production of Apocalypse Now. Another BEST doc.

THE THIN BLUE LINE / THE FOG OF WAR - 1988 / 2003
Two more: Errol Morris's look at a cop-killing in Dallas and at the life and philosophy of Robert S. McNamara. Fog, especially, is a very telling film that deserves all the attention it can get.

THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY - 1966
The Penultimate Western.

BARFLY - 1987
The Penultimate Bukowski Adaptation.

SEXY BEAST - 2000
An intimate shotgun blast of a gangster film. I'm not even sure if Fukasaku saw it coming.

SINGING IN THE RAIN - 1952
The best musical ever. The happiest film ever.

SONATINE / FIREWORKS (HANA BI) - 1993 / 1997
If you want a taste of renaissance man "Beat" Takeshi Kitano, start with these films.

BLOODY SUNDAY - 2002
Paul Greengrass's so-realistic-you'll-think-it's-a-documentary chronicle of an Irish civil rights march and the ensuing riot and massacre is one of the most intensely powerful films of recent memory.

Making lists makes me tired. To be continued...

the shameful splinters of a great nation

2005-09-06T17:39:00.000-07:00

So much good comes out of the people of this country, but mostly when others are in crisis. We can be a pretty selfish, petty, self-centered, opportunistic, xenophobic and materialistic people, but when others take a beat-down of epic proportions, we rally behind them and show our best, brightest colors. Conversely, we act pretty badly at those same times of sorrow, and people can be insensitive, hateful, inappropriate and wrong-headed in such ways that it detracts from the focus of the moment.

In the aftermath of Katrina, with all the suffering in Louisiana and Mississippi, there have been a lot of very public moments that would not make a level-headed populace proud: Jesse Jackson bringing race into what should be a color-free rescue and clean-up project; Barbara Bush making insensitive and elitist comments about evacuees; Wolf Blitzer over-earnestly bringing race into a news report; Kanye West making a potentially accurate point at an inappropriate moment; certain Christian groups saying the devastation was God's wrath against abortion clinics; even the people at risk, shooting at rescuers, cursing those who brought aid and looting goods that would be no help to them at all.

At this juncture, the ratio of bad to good behavior is 1:5. 20/80. Not so bad, but not really great either.

I don't really have a clever close to this.

www.redcross.org

hey! fats domino!

2005-09-02T06:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, I read it wrong. Diddy and Jay-Z donated a combined million to the Red Cross. Still, I'm impressed by the effort.

They found Fats Domino! Finally, some good news.

recent observations -- tragedy, shame and beauty

2005-09-01T21:35:00.000-07:00

The random notes piled up over the past weeks, while I was focused on other things. And today’s paper and the events of the last few days just added to it. So here’s a quick (?) rundown:

-Which East Coast independent darling of the silver screen recently showed up in the papers with Hep-C, a collapsed lung and a crack team of intravenous drug users for a support group? That would be

A. Vincent Gallo
B. Natasha Lyonne
C. Lili Taylor

Apparently back when she was filming The Grey Zone in 2000, Natasha Lyonne rubbed up against David Arquette or some such nonsense and got Hepatitis-C, then got involved with the wrong crowd, and perhaps because she starred in Blade III, ended up in a seriously bad condition. While I hope she gets better, maybe this will make her think twice about starring in any more films with Michael Rappaport.

-While I appreciate the Dallas Morning News filling me in on all the heaviest fashion magazines, it ultimately seems like a waste of space. Who really has any practical use for a $98,000 bracelet or the sage commentary of Kirsten Dunst?

-I’m sure there were some cultural events they could have promoted, or maybe given more space to some world event. Maybe the story of the more than 950 people killed in a frenzied stampede on a Baghdad bridge yesterday could have warranted more coverage. Do you see that number? 950. On a bridge. After rumors of suicide bomber spread throughout the crowd that gathered for a religious ceremony, hundreds rushed ahead to escape. The ensuing crush caused deaths by trampling, asphyxiation, drowning, all because of a rumor, not even an actual attack. It’s a horrific tragedy not unlike our own situation in Louisana and Mississippi. Of course, I didn’t see any reports of people in Baghdad shooting at the authorities attempting to help them.

-This one galls me. Helicopters sent into the Lousiana area to pick up stranded residents were shot at by locals with weapons, requiring the state to send in armored helicopters to do the job. The only reasons you would fire a weapon at someone coming to save you after a horrific tragedy are:

A. You are hiding something that would otherwise
get you into trouble
B. You are crazy and need to be strapped down
C. You are a mean, unthinking bastard and probably cause trouble
even when it’s sunny outside

I hope all the law-abiding citizens of Louisiana can get their lives back in order and re-build their cities. As for the rest of them…I hope the authorities can manage with minimal injury.

-To the Atlanta Amoco gas station that had $5.87 to $6.07 per gallon fuel prices posted the day after Katrina hit, all I can say is I hope they revoke your ability to sell lottery tickets, you loathsome, greedy prick.

-Speaking of loathsome, greedy pricks: last week thieves stole gasoline from a church charity’s van, causing hundreds of dollars in damages and the need for the charity to find a replacement truck to pick up supplies for their food drives. What is wrong with people?

-Lastly, Slate has a story about the troubles facing New Orleans entitled “Jazz Funeral”. While, again, the damage to the area is sad and very troubling, I have to say that the photo Slate uses is gorgeous…how do you find beauty in a tragic event? It’s a very fine line, saying this. Maybe beauty is important at a time like this. All I can say is I was taken aback at the crisp, dark image of a water-logged street, people wandering about, cars and buildings now landscape rather than objects. If this offends you, I apologize. I can’t help my reaction.

-I also have a new-found respect for rappers “Diddy” and Jay-Z, each of whom donated a million dollars to the Red Cross. Bravo, gentlemen. I wish we could all do the same. You are honorable standouts in the community that has too much insincere celebrity.

I got 99 problems; the Red Cross ain’t one

the four food groups

2005-08-31T20:50:00.000-07:00

My son and I had a weekend with very little studying and homework, and we didn't feel like getting out in the 110-degree heat, so we picked up a handful of DVDs and had the Manly Man-Film Mini-Festival. This was for the split purposes of entertainment and the continuing education I am supplying my son on the vast realm that is The Movies.

On this occasion, we went with what we have declared The Four Food Groups of Movies, which are: Sword, Gun, Monster and Kung Fu. Our selections were Conan the Barbarian, Hard-Boiled, Godzilla: Tokyo S.O.S. and Kung Fu Hustle. Of the four, he had only seen the latter previously, and he enjoyed the batch.

With the exception of the Godzilla flick, I had seen all of these before. With the exception of the Godzilla flick, all were highly entertaining. Godzilla made up for a slow start with a nifty final act.

In my attempts to ensure that my son is exposed to more than The Abstract And Poorly Lit CG Hybrid Creature From The Bottom Of The Lake/Well/Mineshaft/Ocean Floor genre, which happens to be his favorite, I have been watching a varied roster of films with him in the last year or so. Everything from classics (Citizen Kane, Some Like It Hot, To Kill A Mockingbird), war films (The Dirty Dozen, The Great Escape), westerns (The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, The Professionals, Once Upon A Time In The West), Asian cinema (The Duel, Hero), comedies (Dr. Strangelove) and martial arts (almost anything with Jackie Chan, Jet Li and even the great Enter The Dragon). Of course there have been some modern action films (the Riddick movies, anything with a Marvel superhero). I want the kid to be well-rounded when it comes to movies.

I've been pretty lucky in my choices, as I cannot recall a film he flat-out didn't like. Well, he later told me he didn't dig Dr. Strangelove, but I think some of the humor was lost on his young mind. That's okay. He has lots of years to develop his tastes. I'm just glad I can contribute in some small way.

What does this all mean to you? Not much. It's one of those personal posts that probably doesn't apply to anyone else.

And that's fine by me.

I saw Jaws when I was 11

2005 AFFD Festival Week -- I Love This Stuff

2005-08-29T22:20:00.000-07:00

To summarize the 2005 AFFD festival means a lot of gushing: it was a tremendous week of unexpected power, grand entertainment and cinematic joy. And lots of Kirin. Listed below are all of my personal ratings for the films I saw (remember, I'm using the AFFD's 1-4 system...there are a couple of 1s that I would have given no rating*):

20:30:40 -- 3
Imelda -- 2
Days of Being Wild -- 2
Men Suddenly in Black -- 2
Gozu -- 3
Cavite -- 4
Untold Scandal -- 3
Kamikaze Girls -- 3
Dark Water -- 3
The Hero: Love Story of a Spy* -- 1
Godzilla: Final Wars -- 3
Infernal Affairs -- 3
Infernal Affairs II -- 4
Love Battlefield* -- 1
Last Life in the Universe -- 4
Bad Guy -- 2
Dolls -- 2
Throwdown -- 4
State of Mind -- 3
2009: Lost Memories -- 1
Arakimentari -- 3
Save the Green Planet -- 3

And here are the Controlled Burning Special AFFD Awards:

Best Scene in a Film: Throwdown, "the table scene"
Best Documentary Film: Arakimentari
Best Use of Reptiles: TIE, Godzilla: Final Wars and Last Life in the Universe
Most Powerful Film: Cavite
Controlled Burning Personal Favorite: Last Life in the Universe
Best Overall Film: Infernal Affairs II

And a final word: frequently I feel like the 40-year-old gaijin, but I must say that the AFFD has been a very rewarding experience. I have never had a sudden rush of cinematic experience like I did after attending the first annual festival. I saw Nowhere to Hide and suddenly it was four years later and I was compiling a database of Asian film. I don't really know what happened, but I've loved every minute of it.

To the volunteers and organizers of the Asian Film Festival of Dallas, I say: bravo. You should be very proud of this year's accomplishments.

Now, about 2006...

2005 AFFD Festival Week -- My Last Night

2005-08-28T22:00:00.000-07:00

Again, due to scheduling issues, I skipped Wednesday's screenings. Which brings me to my last night of the festival.

I was very afraid that I would miss Throwdown entirely, and I really wanted to see it on a big screen. If you don't know the films of Johnny To, you should run right out and find The Mission, PTU and Running on Karma. Throwdown is lovingly dedicated to Akira Kurasawa and is, like Karma, a sweetly-maladjusted mix of action, comedy and heavy thought. It is one of the few films I've seen that I could describe in part as "fanciful" that also shows a man slicing a lackey with an exacto knife. It is, at its core, a Beckett play with Judo fight scenes.

Throwdown was another of those delightful surprises at this year's festival. I was so completely caught off-guard by its strengths that I did not want it to end. It's not every day you see a film where every character is honorable, even the most antagonistic.

How I rated Throwdown: 4

I closed out my festival week with State of Mind, a wonderful documentary about two girls preparing for the 2003 Mass Games in North Korea. It is the most fascinating film I have ever seen about people who absolutely hate me. And you. And all Americans. It was priceless. And no one else in America will probably get to see it. So score one for AFFD initiative.

How I rated State of Mind: 3

Next Up: The Summary and The Sad Goodbye

2005 AFFD Festival Week -- Bad Guys & Dolls

2005-08-28T21:20:00.000-07:00

I skipped Monday because I had seen all the major films screened that night, so Tuesday I flew down the tollway and arrived for two equally odd films that both countered their faults admirably.

First was Bad Guy, an early Kim Ki Duk drama. Let me back up and say, watching movies that you dislike is somewhat like getting a bad grade in school. When you get an "A", there's not a lot of discussion, just celebration. When you get a "D", you have to explain every little factor involved in your failure. Bad Guy made me want to talk endlessly about cinematic flaws and feeling miserable.

I could play the smartass here and say Bad Guy is your average boy-stalks-girl, boy-forces-girl-into-prostitution, girl-remains-a-prostitute story. Bad Guy is about a seemingly mute, near-indestructible fellow who plays security to a section of town that would give "strip mall" a whole new meaning. One day he spies a pretty young girl and assaults her, almost immediately. The film kicks into gear from the word go, and never really lets up with its distaste for decency and kindness. Characters that do "good" things are frequently doing them for all the wrong reasons, and often when it is far, far too late. The main character tricks this young woman into becoming a hooker, and she carries out her duties, slowly becoming acclimated to the routines of whoredom. Meanwhile, it's clear that the Bad Guy has an attraction to her, perhaps just a fascination with something innocent, perhaps some tiny spark in his heart that has not been dulled by the rest of his life. Who knows, and who cares? The film basically says once you become a whore, you'll never know a "normal" life again.

And yet, despite the grim premise and what unfolds, the film is never unwatchable. With slight jabs of humor and occasional detours from the expected narrative course, Bad Guy may not be entertaining, but it is a completely captivating film.

Of course, where there is a Bad Guy, there is always bound to be a Worse Guy, and a major flaw of the film is that this allegedly more evil presence is given short shrift in the story, and we never know how conflict between the two would have turned out. What we do learn, very effectively, are the following three lessons:

1-When in Korea, be very careful when choosing a financial lending institution.

2-If you see a guy walking down the street toward you and he is carrying a five-foot-long piece of jagged glass, step aside or better yet, cross the street.

3-When forced into prostitution and then released, don't go back into prostitution without a substantially better reason than "I am attracted to the man who forced me into prostitution."

How I rated Bad Guy: 2

Then there was Takeshi Kitano's Dolls, a lovely film filled with vivid colors and textures. Made up of three stories, I think Kitano's exercise would have been better served by focusing on only one. Of the three, the prominent narrative is about a pair of former lovers bound by a red rope. They wander throughout cities and countrysides as "The Bound Beggars", and I must say that for beggars, they always seemed to be wearing the snazziest clothing every time they appear on screen.

The other two stories, of an aging Yakuza and his lost love and a wounded pop star and her unhinged fan, seem to have been afterthoughts more than fully-realized tales. I wouldn't have minded films about any one of these separately, but the bound couple more effectively conveys the themes that I think Kitano was trying to get at, and a full feature about a couple silently traversing an entire country would have been something. Imagine that: no dialogue, simply their observations of everything they pass by and their memories of all things past. Now that would have been something to shout about.

How I rated Dolls: 2

Next Up: A sweet closing

2005 AFFD Festival Week -- An Interlude

2005-08-28T11:45:00.000-07:00

There were other films being played that I could not attend due to scheduling reasons, films I had already seen for entertainment purposes, and ones that I caught on DVD during the festival week in order to catch up. Here are those titles:

Dark Water - The original Japanese thriller, a far more creepy and unsettling affair than the American remake.
How I rated Dark Water: 3

The Hero: Love Story of a Spy - I was shocked at how unwatchable this film was. A truly interminable experience. The giddy joy of Bollywood productions was nowhere to be found.

How I rated The Hero: Love Story of a Spy: 1

Infernal Affairs - The one that started it all. No doubt!

How I rated Infernal Affairs: 3

Love Battlefield - The Hero may have been unwatchable, but Love Battlefield was simply unlikable. Shrill, unpleasant people making alarmingly stupid choices. Predictability laid upon irritability. I actually hated Love Battlefield.

How I hated Love Battlefield: 1

2009: Lost Memories - Not awful, just waaaaayy too talky. There are some nice action scenes but they get swallowed whole by the endless yakking.

How I rated 2009: Lost Memories: 1

Next Up: Bad Guys and Dolls

2005 AFFD Festival Week -- Sunday: The Day Of Best

2005-08-28T10:45:00.000-07:00

Deciding to forego The Hero: Love Story of a Spy for more sleep, I started my festival day off with what had to be the absolute audience favorite: Godzilla: Final Wars. It not only had a packed house, but in my experience had the most verbal audience. But it's the kind of film that requires you hoot and holler with amazement at such joys as a giant reptile blowing the head off of a robotic cockroach with a saw blade on his belly and two double-chainsaw hands. There really is no substitute for this kind of fun. It was also the only film in the festival that I could urge my 15-year-old son to see.

How I rated Godzilla: Final Wars: 3
How my 15-year-old son rated Godzilla: Final Wars: 4

The centerpiece film of the festival was Infernal Affairs II. This was another sellout and is my personal choice as Best Film of the Festival. A prequel to its predecessor, IAII is the tale of cops and gangsters, portrayed not as good or evil but just human, raw and flawed and conflicted by their lives. The dual backbones of the film are Anthony Wong and Eric Tsang, in roles they portray in all three IA films. IAII has the dramatic power of a Godfather film, and is far more accessible than films like Cavite and Last Life in the Universe. It wins out, hands-down, as the most impressive cinematic display of the festival, and should be required viewing for anyone interested in film, whether for the purposes of studying the genre, the actors or just to seek out a truly great movie.

How I rated Infernal Affairs II: 4

Next Up: An interlude before the final stretch

2005 AFFD Festival Week -- Saturday: Cavite

2005-08-28T09:44:00.000-07:00

The first film of Saturday was And Thereafter, an extremely powerful documentary that I missed and now regret doing so. And Thereafter won the festival's Best Documentary and Grand Jury Awards, so I feel compelled to seek it out and see what I missed.

For me, the day began with Cavite, which was the single most powerful and surprising film of the festival. Don't get me wrong, there are other films that were powerful, and others I enjoyed more on a personal level, but Cavite came out of nowhere, an independent film made on what seems to be no budget, filmed with the dire urgency and dread that befit its narrative, and ultimately left the audience silent. Cavite had such a profound effect on me that I hope it will find its way into theaters around the globe. I'd love to be reading next year's Film Comment and see that the film made several international critics' best-of-year lists.

Also, when The Blair Witch Project came out, everyone was apoplectic over the use of handheld camerawork and the in-your-face-immediacy of the film (as well as its no-budget look and feel). I urge all those people to see this film, something with far greater dramatic heft and socio-political weight.

How I rated Cavite: 4

Then came Untold Scandal, not to be confused with The Untold Story. One is a South Korean version of Dangerous Liaisons, the other is an early Anthony Wong gorefest about a serial killer who uses the remains of his victims in his restaurant's meat buns. There really should be no confusion on this point.

Untold Scandal was perhaps the most movie-like movie in the festival. It is highly polished, beautifully designed, carefully staged and well-acted. While a tad long, it is a very enjoyable show. It is also one of only two films in the festival that deal with eroticism, the other being Arakimentari, which has less polish but definitely more flesh.

How I rated Untold Scandal: 3

Finally (for me), there was Kamikaze Girls. This Japanese comedy won the festival's Best Narrative Award, and is a funny, likeable film about two girls who become friends despite their conflicting social styles. The final act loses a lot of the film's steam, but overall it is a very winning effort. Like Men Suddenly in Black, it also traffics in frequent film references that are sometimes more obvious than others. My favorite was a moment straight out of Battles Without Honor and Humanity, the classic Kinji Fukasaku yakuza film from the early seventies.

How I rated Kamikaze Girls: 3

Next Up: Audience favorites, including the best film of the festival

2005 AFFD Festival Week -- Friday: It All Comes Down To Gozu

2005-08-27T21:30:00.000-07:00

Dumplings, Kirin, more dumplings, more Kirin, more Kirin…

Oh, sorry. Got caught up in the joy.

After such an enjoyable Opening Night event, I immediately had concerns that I was about to be disappointed. After all, I was starting my weekend with a screening of Days of Being Wild.

Wait, wait…before you say that, hear me out. I am not the Wong Kar Wai afficianado of the family. That would be Crys. I have only seen a handful of his films, and have prized two of them as Best Ever flicks: Chungking Express and In the Mood for Love. But WKW is an acquired taste. His films are always gorgeous to look at, lushly filmed and steeped in softened palettes that seem out of a dreamscape. However, his narratives are slowly paced, often about unrequited (or badly requited) passions, and as Crys says, “they always end in tears.” It helps immensely that he has some of the finest actors in the business doing his dirty work. So I am always a little hesitant when approaching one I have not seen before.

Days of Being Wild is good, but the best parts are with supporting characters that don’t get as much screen time as the loathsome lothario it focuses on. Played by Leslie Cheung, the character is deeply wounded from an earlier age, but frankly, who cares? Give us more Maggie Cheung and Andy Lau, and either expand on the Tony Leung character who pops up at the end, or don’t tease us with the inclusion of a new face in the final 30 seconds of the film.

How I rated Days of Being Wild: 2

I followed DoBW with Men Suddenly in Black, a silly comedy about four men who attempt to go on a sex-happy spree while their wives are out of town. Things go wrong at every turn, and the results are never as good as the promise of what could have been. But the film never winks at you, remains completely serious about its shenanigans, and repeatedly tweaks other genres and specific films with some of the funniest references ever found in a mediocre movie. And who doesn’t love the Eric Tsang?

How I rated Men Suddenly in Black: 2

Then it was straight into Takashi Miike’s Gozu. Mind you, it was almost midnight when this film started, and I had been up since five that morning. If you are familiar with Miike’s films, you pretty well know what you’re in for, but in the case of Gozu you may be surprised. It is not a constant flow of violence and disgust; it savors small chunks of such things here and there, but there are loads of one-shot, slow, staring passages. Yet Gozu is a confounding film, perhaps moreso than anything you have ever experienced internationally or domestically. Gozu is the David Lynch film as travelogue, if that travelogue were taking you through a small, decrepit town where everyone either ignores you, stares at you without speaking, or attempts to murder you. And then there is the hotel where baths and meals are served with a very personal touch.

Gozu is the David Lynch film that David Lynch thought twice about making, then set about burning its script and burying the ashes. It’s that wild.

How I rated Gozu: 3

I left the Magnolia at 2:15, laid my head on a pillow at exactly 3:00 AM, and in less than 12 hours I would be right back in the theater.

Next Up: The Single Most Powerful Show of the Festival

2005 AFFD Festival Week -- Opening Night

2005-08-26T21:33:00.000-07:00

Opening Night arrived with a sheen of sweat, brought on by rising temperatures and the general nervousness that accompanies the beginning of a week-long event. There was a special reception at the Crowe Museum of Asian Art, which I am embarrased to say I had never been to before. It's a lovely little place and I highly recommend you stop by should you be trolling museums in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area.

There was some great food by Tom Tom, a local Asian eatery that is really, really terrific. I ended up eating there, oh, five times during the week, including one take-out meal. I'm dreadfully out of shape, but Ginger Garlic Beef makes me purr.

(The trick to eating at a reception where you must be somewhat receptive is simple. Grab a beverage, and drink frequently from said beverage as you chat amongst the sponsors and guests. Excuse yourself about halfway through the proceedings, grab a plate of food, find a seat away from every conversation you've had in the last 15 minutes, then scrape as much of said food into your sushi hole as possible without seeming to have appeared direct from the cromagnon era. Then grab a fresh beverage and resume chatting. That simple.)

The line awaiting the film really staggered me. It was the first moment when I knew the week would be successful. And the crowd really seemed to enjoy the film, which made me feel good for those in the festival committee that took the chance starting things off with a gentle, happy film that contained no bodily fluids, cops, terrorists, animated characters or eagles shooting horses. Just a nice little movie about people's lives.

The Opening Night feature was 20:30:40, a surprisingly delightful film directed by Sylvia Chang, who also stars as one of the three leads. The film is about three women (one in her 20s, one in her 30s...you get the picture) who have various personal issues in their lives such as living out their dreams, surviving divorce, and finding that perfect relationship. I say "surprisingly delightful" because if you read a recap of the film, you might not think it sounded any different than your average, bland Lifetime made-for-TV Movie About Women. But it has a terrific sense of humor, a bunch of interesting characters who are fleshed out by a bunch of terrific actors, and a mix of sadness and sweetness that really makes the whole thing work very well. It was, for me, one of the happiest surprises of the entire festival.

How I rated 20:30:40: 3

Next Up: Friday is a 23-hour day, and Gozu mystifies.

2005 AFFD Festival Week -- The Early Reviews

2005-08-25T22:24:00.000-07:00

I'm back!

I've decided this year to take things in chronological order, since it makes it easier for me to re-group after having seen so many films in such a short period of time.

If you haven't read much of the past blogs on the AFFD, it stands for Asian Film Festival of Dallas, and it is the largest venue for Asian and international film in the Southwest U.S. The website is right here.

In preparation for the just-over-a-week-long festival, one of my jobs was to review films for the program. I'd like to post both the original reviews, my current observations (if any new ones apply) and how I rated the film using the festival's straightforward 1 thru 4, 1-being-worst, 4-being-best, method. I'll do the same for everything I add here, summing up with some special notes toward the end. This should take several posts, so please don't fret. I'll hit your favorites eventually.

Of the 30+ films featured in this year's festival, I reviewed 4 in advance, though I watched a good deal more than that. They were: Arakimentari, Imelda, Last Life in the Universe and Save the Green Planet. So let's get started.

_________________

ARAKIMENTARI

What I said then:

"Nobuyoshi Araki is a wily little man, and at first glance might remind the viewer of those lecherous old masters that are a staple in anime features, grasping at women’s anatomies in an openly lurid and unapologetically sexual manner. Araki is, however, flesh and blood, and he is the epitome of the full-on eroticized aesthete. A masterful Japanese photographer, when he inevitably leaps upon a half-nude woman, it is usually to manuever one of her limbs into the right position or adorn her body with some piece of clothing (or remove one entirely).

ARAKIMENTARI is a look at the artist’s work, and whether a photographic series on clouds, street kids, his late wife or any number of nudes (and there are many…this film is not for children or the anyone easily offended by nudity and frank sexual discussion), he creates wildly evocative and even solemn, powerful images. This brief documentary, directed by American filmmaker Travis Klose, focuses on the photographer working various shoots, mingling with people on the streets and in the bars of Tokyo, and in interviews. Additional comments on his life, art and style are provided by celebrity friends, admirers and peers, including Takeshi Kitano, Bjork and Yoshiko Kamikura, as well as many of his models.

Energetic and sexually-charged, ARAKIMENTARI also displays the halting, emotional core of a man’s life and work."

What I think now:

Arakimentari still holds my fascination as acutely as it did in my advance viewing. The film's focus on the beauty of a man's sometimes lurid art holds up under repeated viewings.

How I rated Arakimentari: 3

_________________

SAVE THE GREEN PLANET

What I said then:

"SAVE THE GREEN PLANET comes across at first like an energetic comedy, but after a credit sequence set to a punk-rock version of “Over The Rainbow”, the film settles into its more evenly-paced thriller format to become an affecting hybrid of film genres with a sense of humor that – while infrequent - is as black as pitch.

Lee Byeung-gu (an impressive, wild-eyed Ha-kyun Shin) believes that aliens from the Andromeda system are going to attack Earth in seven days during a lunar eclipse. In order to save the world (according to instructions he has received from his comatose mother), Lee kidnaps Kang Man-shik (played with painful resolve by Yun-shik Baek), the CEO of a chemical company at which he once worked. With the aid of his tightrope-walking girlfriend Sooni, Lee begins interrogating (and almost immediately torturing) Kang in hopes that he can prevent the oncoming attack.

Lee’s methods (which include the application of mentholatum to the most tender parts of the anatomy, as well as the use of axes and steaming probes) make him seem extreme, perhaps psychotic. We learn that Lee has had more than his share of tough breaks in life. Yet he has also amassed a huge amount of data that points to impending doom. Despite the cringe-inducing efforts he takes to force the truth from his captive, the question becomes: What if this poor sap is right?

With unequal parts conspiracy drama, hostage thriller, gory actioner and dark satire, SAVE THE GREEN PLANET manages to illuminate such loftier issues as the fragility of both the planet and the human mind. There is also a wonderful sequence that displays mankind’s history of violence upon itself, framed in a historical pastiche that combines biblical, scientific and cinematic elements that make for an undeniably clever headtrip.

Ultimately, SAVE THE GREEN PLANET is a very tense and engaging sophomore effort from director Jun-hwan Jeong, and the film exceeds mainstream necessity with its contemplative and evocative - if not slightly psychotic - designs."

What I think now:

Again, the film holds up well, and is even more entertaining the second time when you don't expect a wacky comedy, the likes of which the trailer seems to suggest.

How I rated Save the Green Planet: 3

_________________

IMELDA

What I said then:

"“My mother? Get beyond the shoes. The shoes are a funny side story.”
-Ferdinand Marcos II

“When they went to my closets, they found shoes, not skeletons.”
-Imelda Marcos

Imelda Marcos believes that love and beauty are the core of human existence, yet to this day she seems completely oblivious to the ugly horrors that took place behind the scenes of her late husband’s dictatorial regime. It is this very basic conflict that drives Ramona S. Diaz’s award-winning documentary, IMELDA, and the film makes its mark as one of those rare, few glimpses into the world of a seemingly certifiable individual. Mrs. Marcos has, for every aspect of life, an uplifting philosophy that almost makes her seem forgivable, until she starts to describe some of her personal beliefs. Lesser audience members may well be driven mad when she transcribes her inscrutable concept of a series of “circles of life”, complimented by her speedy scrawl on a yellow notepad.

IMELDA alternates easily between a history lesson and a more personal and captivating view of a woman who seems somewhat at odds with the power structure she was a primary force in building and maintaining. Her sense of fashion always at the forefront of any presentation, when Mrs. Marcos is attacked by an armed man at a rally, her first thought is that she wished his weapon had been adorned with some kind of ribbon or cloth. As a member of her husband’s cabinet, Ferdinand Marcos frequently sent his wife to meet with heads of state, and she explains that when the trappings of politics were forgotten, they could “talk like people”. She recalls Syrian leader Mohammar Quaddafi trying to teach her parts of the Koran, focusing on the passages that stressed peace and love. When treaty negotiations almost stalled out, Mrs. Marcos sweetly reminded the man of his earlier message, and the treaty was quickly signed. And just as quickly and violently as the Filipino people turned on the Marcoses after the assassination of political opponent Benigno Aquino, they swarm about her years later with warmth and affection, calling her “mommy” as she campaigns for her children. The whole film is a patchwork of opposing thoughts, images and ideas.

Yet for every few moments of lunacy and blind, history-excusing rhetoric, Mrs. Marcos is also shown to be a very gentle, genuine woman with honest emotions. With her husband lying in state before her, she tears up as she speaks about his death. Late in the film, Mrs. Marcos watches her son and daughter on Filipino television during their respective campaigns for governor and congresswoman (both won by landslides), and you can sense the warm pride swelling up inside her.

Ms. Diaz’s second documentary, IMELDA won the award for Excellence In Cinematography For Documentary at the 2004 Sundance Film Festival."

What I think now:

While eye-opening in its way, much of the film's first half drags on, while the seeming madness in the woman's philosophy comes across more starkly in repeated viewings.

How I rated Imelda: 2

_________________

Last Life in the Universe

What I said then:

"Kenji has constant thoughts of suicide. When he picks up a knife, kneels on the railing of a bridge or stands on a neatly placed stack of books in his apartment, a noose around his neck, you can see the wheels turning as he imagines how he might die in the next moments. The clothing in Kenji’s wardrobe consists of several shades of gray, all precisely folded and placed immaculately within drawers and closets. Meticulous rows of books, his shoes, everything is labeled. Even the food in his refrigerator seems placed in an exact, perfect fashion. Kenji’s behavior is that of an extreme obsessive-compulsive, yet he is so stiffly turned in upon himself that he seems almost inert. In the world of cinema, Kenji seems primed for a chaotic woman to enter his life.

Pen-ek Ratanaruang’s LAST LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE is the tale of how Kenji comes out of his shell when faced with an attraction that is greater than death. From the start, we only have glimpses of what may have pushed him to this state of being: he reads Mishima (the author’s own suicidal statement a grim note in Japan’s cultural history), has a loud, abrasive brother who is hiding out from a Yakuza boss he dishonored, and works as a librarian. It is in the library Kenji catches a glimpse of Nid, a young woman in a school uniform that acts as her outfit at a gentlemen’s club. The next time he sees her, Nid becomes distracted by Kenji and is involved in an accident. Nid’s tougher sister Noi then enters his life, and the two are hardly apart after that event.

Kenji, as played by Tadanobu Asano (Ichi the Killer, Bright Future) is little more than a politely receptive zombie at first. A full third of the film passes before we see a smile on his face (and a hint that there is more to him than his illness). After an encounter in his apartment with a seemingly friendly Yakuza soldier and a very special teddy bear, Kenji arrives at Noi’s home, which he immediately sets about cleaning, and the two start down the road toward a tentative attraction. Asano is effective at allowing very slight layers of Kenji’s habits to slip away as he passes the time with Noi.

Held in check by the lush cinematography of Hong Kong-based cameraman Christopher Doyle, LAST LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE plays clever tricks on the viewer, including cameos by Takashi Miike and Riki Takeuchi, a shot of a library poster of Asano’s character from Ichi, and many surreal moments that imply all is not as it seems. To an extent, the entire film feels as if the viewer is behind the eyes of someone locked in a dream-state. Late in the film, the sisters even appear to have switched places, and there are hints that Kenji may have been involved at some point in his brother’s lifestyle. But the triumph of films like this is that nothing is completely explained and no path forward seems altogether certain.

Noi’s abusive ex and some abrupt gangsters make their presence felt late in the story, but they cannot upset the quiet balance the film strikes from its first image of a lizard clinging to a wall in Kenji’s apartment. LAST LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE is a captivating and alluring film that manages its quirky nature with beautiful imagery and an honest, upbeat relationship between two slightly broken people."

What I think now:

Universe is one of a small handful of films that caught me by surprise and immediately garnered my highest praise. It ranks up there with Oldboy, Fireworks and Chungking Express as one of my favorite Asian dramas.

How did I rate Last Life in the Universe: 4

Next up: Opening Night, the joy that is 20:30:40, and how to eat at a reception.

what happened

2005-08-17T09:05:00.000-07:00

Between massive attacks at work and prep for the AFFD, I have been sorely remiss in my blogging duties. Since the festival is now underway, I will begin the annual tell-it-all recap, replete with great films, amusing asides and lots of Kirin Light.

I get itchy and nervous when I haven't blogged in more than four days. It has something to do with stunted creativity, breaking process flow and self-hatred of self-imposed laziness. But going more than two weeks makes me feel something akin to forgetting your children in a store. I feel like I have violated some pact I've made (through a kind of self-arbitration).

No more forgetting or flailing. Discipline. That's the rule of the deal.

don't stare...it's a yakuza attack dog

saturday morning remnants

2005-08-06T09:40:00.000-07:00

--Okay, so Carney burned the house down on Def Poetry. He is an amazing beast. I feel small in his wake.

--Kirsten Macy, a Dallas-based artist (and former poet from the days of Carney, Clebo, Jena and GNO) got a great review of her latest gallery showing, and I'm really happy for her. She seems to be coming along very well in the art world (as much of one as there is in Dallas, anyway).

Controlled Burning wishes her much success and longevity.

--What ever happened to Our Endeavors' version of The Martian Chronicles, as adapted by David Goodwin? If you are not a local artist, or a fan of Dallas-based theater groups, this means nothing to you. Sorry.

--The AFFD is two weeks out from their 4th annual festival. Check out the program if you're a local, or will be in Dallas during mid-August, and hopefully you'll find something that appeals to your highly-refined film tastes. I recommend Last Life in the Universe, but hey, Godzilla: Final Wars will probably be pretty cool, too.

--Just read that Billy Crudup, recent of The Pillowman fame, has taken part in the upscale adopt-a-pet marathon Broadway Barks, which benefits New York City animal shelters and adoption agencies. So he seems like a really committed, caring guy. Just don't tell Mary Louise Parker.

you little punks think you own this town...

funny guys die, too...carney slams...pressly ages

2005-08-03T17:17:00.000-07:00

--Pat McCormick was one of those celebrities that you probably would recognize even if you didn't know his name. Best known as "Big Enos" Burdette from the Smokey and the Bandit films, McCormick was also a veteran in the field of comedy, both as a performer and a writer. He died last Friday after a lengthy hospital stay from a stroke he suffered in 1998.

I think the best example of his comedy was recalled by comic actor Jack Riley, who told of a night he went walking with his friend. They came upon the Braille Institute, and McCormick looked up to see several dark windows on the second floor. "Ah, " he said, "I see they're working late."

--Jason Carney appears on HBO's Russell Simmons Presents Def Poetry (in its fifth season) this Friday night. I always liked Carney best of all the poets I heard locally years back, but I have to admit he is an imposing specimen of masculinity. I fear my women will run to him and leave me here behind the desk staring at my dogs playing poker. His power is that great.

Controlled Burning wishes JC all the best on the road to fulfillment and poetic greatness.

--Jaime Pressly turned 28 this past Saturday. This is notable because it's freakin' Jaime Pressly!

seeking a rest stop on the poetry superhighway

damn hippies

2005-08-01T21:05:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't seen it, there's an ad for one of Coca Cola's new products, Coke Zero, which I believe is intended as their option for a no-calorie/carb/fat/salt/sugar/flavor/desire/dreams soda. This is all well and good; I love options for those who want them. But the ad is so insulting, so grating, and so downright annoying that it makes people like myself and much younger seem like the parents we never wanted to become. It makes us sneer and snicker with derisive glee, and it makes us utter words that just sound too old and cantankerous. It makes you cry out "damn hippies!"

The commercial is a group of young twenty-somethings on an urban rooftop while one guy strums his guitar, and they all sing about wanting the world to "chill", and make peace and harmony. It's a play on the song from the sixties that at that time actually meant something, and felt right. But today, despite similarities in existing political and global issues, it just sounds all wrong. It makes you want to grab one of these little pups by the shoulders and shake them until the I-pods and granola fall from their pockets. And you just know this isn't one of those Truth scenarios where the youngsters actually exist and made their commercial. No, some central casting nimrod set out to find a group of young kids, then dress them to get just the right touch of lazy/educated/unemployed/empowered/self-righteousness, then provide them the song, carefully written so as to balance a peaceful co-existence between pseudo-flower-power sensibilities and the iron fist of American capitalism. And there you are.

Hippies. I can imagine one of them in line for their next audition, talking with some of their fellows, saying, "Yeah, I was the blonde in the hemp skirt in the Coke Zero ad. Yeah, they dubbed us over; there were birds and car horns, all sorts of noise that they couldn't filter out. Yeah, I really hate what's going on in the world. Wow, I almost got this part as an extra in House of Wax, but a friend of mine knows the assistant director and he told me that Paris Hilton was threatened by my looks. But, hey, I did something really important instead..."

Yeah, Osama bin Laden and Kim Jong-il, druglords and racists, mean people everywhere, let's all just chill. Let's all make the world a better place...

...

Wow, Coca Cola Company of America...I think I feel it. Bravo, you sugar-water saints. And here I thought it was just a sorry, sanctimonious attempt at making more money.

I am knee-deep in the shame of the thirsty.

the czech's in the mail

more proof is not needed

2005-07-30T09:43:00.000-07:00

Further evidence that television is the sinkhole of our cultural enmity, a place where quality programming and matters of importance are becoming fewer and more distant:

AN ABC FAMILY ORIGINAL MOVIE

PIZZA MY HEART

An old family rivalry. A new recipe for disaster.

(Image: behind two star-crossed lovers, two old men in aprons

get ready to swing at each other with pizza paddles.)

or:

Don't believe your eyes.

CRISS ANGEL: MINDFREAK

Escape Artist. Mystifier. Surrealist. Manipulator. Provocateur. Madman.

(sigh)

That second one? It's on A&E.

this week's armload

2005-07-30T09:24:00.000-07:00

--Why I had never heard of Manchild before astonishes me. It is a riotously funny, piercingly honest and sweetly sad look at a quartet of British men in their 50s, close friends who have established themselves and revel in the best years of their lives, all with assorted issues to keep them on their toes.

Terry (Nigel Havers) is the narrator, a divorced man who dates models, drives a different piece of image-conscious machinery in every episode, and cannot relate to the younger generation without it becoming painfully awkward. Gary (Ray Burdis) is The Married One, happily bedding only one woman, connecting faintly with a teenage son and fighting off age less successfully but more realistically than his pals. James (Anthony Head) is Terry less the suavity and self-assuredness. And then there is connoisseur and human-experience anchor Patrick (Don Warrington). Terry catches the eye of every young woman he encounters. Gary wants excitement but doesn't stray from the comfort and safety of his loving wife. James deals with investment and erectile dysfunction issues. Patrick delights in every natural, cultural and social experience life has to offer, perhaps to counter the fact that his old mum is at death's door.

Catch Manchild on DVD. It is a surprising, highly-enjoyable series.

There, I didn't reference Sex and the City once.

--Burnt Offerings is one of those old-school haunting flicks from the early seventies, when Rosemary's Baby kicked off a literary horror trend. The film is all about a ghostly presence in a house that drives a family apart, but it's much more than that, and much less. What it comes down to is this: no one was a wilder mad-Englishman than Oliver Reed, and no woman was ever as creepy/scary as Karen Black. The film is a bit kooky 30 years later, but still has some heft to it. Don't miss Bette Davis as The Cryptkeeper.

--My wife LOVES the crap. She sucks down z-grade horror films the same way a vampire doffs type O negative. In that light, I present you with the following:

The Prophecy: Uprising - Kari Wuhrer in the fourth or fifth Prophecy sequel, all about angels and devils duking it out in Romaniazakistan over a woman with a bad scratch under her eye and a big book under her arm. Not as reprehensible as you might imagine. With Jason London as an outline.

Dracula III: Legacy - As bad as you might think. Jason London, this time with the acting prowess of an outline, and Jason Scott Lee, who eventually went on to film the next Prophecy sequel with Kari Wuhrer and Jason London (and Tony Todd! My wife just hit the Z-Horror trifecta!), battle cranky, overly made-up vampire-king Rutger Hauer. Except they don't really do much at all, except get into bad situations repeatedly because stupid-king Jason London keeps wanting to get out of the car.

Hellraiser CVXIII: Deader - Holy crap! Kari Wuhrer is a tabloid reporter who gets all messed up in the name of important journalism. A really, really uncomfortable flick. Doug Bradley appears as Pinhead for about three minutes, probably because of his sterling representation ("Jimmy, I've been thinking about doing Polonius in the upcoming run of Hamlet." "Aww, Doug, I just got you your thirty-eighth Pinhead role. We haven't got time for that artsy prat!") Bradley, it should be said, also starred in Prophecy: Uprising. Wuhrer also starred in The Hitcher 2: I've Been Waiting (which did not star Rutger Hauer, though I'm sure Jake Busey was channeling his spirit) and King of the Ants, a grotesquerie disguised as a movie.

Come to think of it, the low-end horror industry seems to be a pretty in-bred little world. Kari Wuhrer, Jason London, Tony Todd, directed by Rick Bota and based on the collective works of Stephen King and Clive Barker, and produced by Wes Craven. Put a colon in the title, and that sums up the whole unholy affair.

tough guys finish

2005-07-30T08:05:00.000-07:00

Edward Bunker died earlier this week, and it was kind of sad hearing his voice on NPR the following day after reading his bio. Bunker started off his illustrious career as a criminal in his teens. He later learned to write and started turning out crime novels. If you're younger, or watch movies more than you read books, you would probably know him better as Mr. Blue in Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs.

Bunker's voice was something else. It reminded me of the first time I'd heard Charles Bukowski on tape, and the expectation with tough guys like that is that you're going to get some growling, macho baritone or bass. But these guys had higher registers, mild-mannered voices that I might associate more with accountants or shoe salesmen, not badass drunken poets or guard-shivving reprobates.

I learned that Bukowski's Factotum has been made into a film starring Matt Dillon, who would not have been my first guess were anyone to ask me. I'm instantly in love with anything of Bukowski's that is made into film, as I've always felt a few of his stories were made for pulpy, down-and-out celluloid transfers. Bunker's work was translated into several films, most notably Straight Time starring Dustin Hoffman (and considering the actor's voice, maybe not so far off the mark) and The Animal Factory with Edward Furlong characterizing Bunker as a first-time inmate.

Going back through old scraps I have not yet written on, I found the notice for Evan Hunter's death. Hunter (born Salvatore Lombino) was the writer who created the pseudonym Ed McBain. He died early in July of cancer. I never heard his voice, but somehow I bet it was not what I would have expected.

somewhere, norman mailer is weeping

they have terrorist bombings, too

2005-07-22T05:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, U.S.-born pop star Madonna, who in recent years married film director Guy Ritchie and relocated to London, was quoted as saying:

"The last thing I thought I would do is marry some laddish, shooting, pub-going nature lover," she said. "And the last thing he thought he was going to do was marry some cheeky girl from the Midwest who doesn't take no for an answer. But now I love England and want to be here and not in America. I see England as my home."

Rue, Brittania: she's all yours.

fresh and tasty

shedoobee, shattered

2005-07-21T20:02:00.000-07:00

--No one ever mentioned the Lukewarm Coffee mod, which showed CJ having sex with Hillary Clinton. Imagine the face of the hacker that came across that one.

--Funny that in today's paper, a few sections back from the article about the AO rating for San Andreas and the stores that hauled it off their shelves, there was a highlight in the Arts section about a CD that is almost entirely made up of sex sounds. Nice moral consistency, American Newspapers of America!

--That same paper used over half of this past Saturday's front page to highlight not the news of the world, but a book review of the new Harry Potter novel. Now there's contemporary journalistic integrity!

to live in this town, you must be tough-tough-tough-tough-tough!

better things to do

2005-07-16T08:40:00.000-07:00

All you people seriously considering a grass-roots movement to get Oprah a Nobel Peace Prize: stop it. Just stop it.

You're only going to look silly when she storms Hermes with a Thompson rifle and a machete and cries havoc.

(this socio-cultural satire brought to you by Prada, maker of fine handbags that we aren't afraid to sell directly to people like that...you know...entertainers)

why didn't we think of that?

2005-07-16T08:23:00.000-07:00

Apparently Ben Jones, who played Cooter on the TV series The Dukes of Hazzard, has been complaining about the upcoming film version with arbiters of culture Johnny Knoxville and Seann William Scott. Jones likened the new film's take on the TV series to "taking I Love Lucy and making her a crackhead".

Now you just know that five minutes after this came out, a few dozen movie executives smacked themselves in the forehead and said, "My God, why didn't we think of that? Daffy, accident-prone housewife of Latin band leader...and she smokes crack! Get me Akiva Goldsman!"

Yes, I went there.

the gigantism of chester a. arthur

2005-07-09T08:16:00.000-07:00

I had a week off for my son's summer break, following the July 4th 4-day weekend. One afternoon, we went to Toussault's Wax Museum and Ripley's Believe It or Not!, which are housed in the same pseudo-palatial oasis off of I-30, in the same swamp as the Lone Star Park horse track. It's one of those old attractions that has been there for ages, but I had never gone before. I described it to My Lovely Wife as 75% cheesy, 20% interesting and 5% impressive.

Of the wax figures therein, I must say that too many wigs were askew, and the overall effect is sort of a cross between the creepy sensation of having seen similar figures in movies before, excepting that they always came to life and horribly mutilated you, and that kind of you've-got-to-be-kidding feeling that comes from going to the circus or a church bake sale and realizing these things actually do exist.

I will just say that the Anthony Hopkins of Meet Joe Black seemed to have been left in the Texas sun a bit too long, as he was sort of melting into himself. In the Hall of Presidents, everyone seemed to smile too purely, like Mr. Rogers, which seemed out of place knowing what we do about half of them. And I was previously unaware of Chester A. Arthur's case of gigantism, as his head, from brow to gullet, seemed as ripe as an overgrown casaba melon.

I have plunked down all my worldly goods (okay, $49.99) to get a copy of Half Life 2 for the Xbox when it releases in October. This brings to mind another time, when I owned a Dreamcast, and had plunked down a similar amount of cash for a copy of the port of the original Half Life...and the Dreamcast died an untimely death before it could be released. That and the sequel to Shenmue, which was supposed to be a series of about 7 games, if I recall. We never got to the second one on Dreamcast. Now I wait for the day when The Game Emporium calls me and explains half-heartedly that Half Life 2 will not be coming out on Xbox, but the new Xbox 360, and by the way, have I pre-purchased my 360 yet? I see this coming. I am girded.

Fantastic Four is good fun. If you're a comic book geek, you can probably get past how they butchered Dr. Doom's backstory, because Julian McMahon is kind of fun in an oily, melodramatic way. Very Snidely Whiplash. Michael Chiklis gets The Thing/Ben Grimm down pat, but I seriously doubt he would sign on for a sequel, given the painful, maddening process of living under so much prosthetic makeup. Chris Evans really makes the most of the film as cocky Johnny Storm, the Human Torch. And the effects, while pretty simplistic, are solid. Speaking of effects, Jessica Alba isn't so bad either, and she has about as much to do in the film as Sue Storm had to do in the comic, which means the cover art looks just fine. If the film isn't Spiderman 2 or X-Men 1 or 2, then just suffice it to say fun can be had by all. We'll wait to see if Nicholas Cage can suitably fill Ghost Rider's boots, or if Iron Man can be honorably transformed into more than just a guy flying around in a metal suit. And hopefully, one day, Iron Fist, Deathlok and Watchmen will be filmed by someone who tenderly loves their mylar-wrapped tales of adventure.

everything I know I learned from classics illustrated

well, there's always arriving on time

2005-07-04T10:06:00.000-07:00

Dr. Sheron C. Patterson, senior pastor of Highland Hills United Methodist Church, wrote a lengthy op-ed piece in Saturday's Dallas Morning News pointing up the behavior of Hermes, a posh boutique chain for the all-too-wealthy, when they refused service to Oprah Winfrey. But it's unclear if she was making more of a statement about black people being treated badly or about Oprah being treated badly. These are two very, very different issues.

Hermes apparently turned Oprah away when she arrived after closing time, wanting to purchase a gift for a friend. Our story really should stop right there. Whether Hermes is wrong for one thing or another is kind of moot when you focus on the real problem: Oprah Winfrey needs a new watch. Better yet: some new sensibilities.

Hermes closes at 6:30 p.m. Oprah arrived at 6:45. It's reported that people were still in the store shopping, but who here in the real world hasn't been in a store when they closed, allowing you to finish shopping while not allowing more customers in? Fact is, Oprah Winfrey thought she could use her celebrity and popularity to go somewhere that no one else could, do something that isn't allowed for anyone else, and to be treated specially, which is apparently what happens when you make billions of dollars and get your head fiilled with fan adoration. That swelling of the pocketbook and the head makes you think you're better than the rest of us. Well, sorry, sweetie, but Hermes must not play along with that game.

Now, Hermes can be held responsible for some bad calls as far as the initial reports that they had turned her away because she was black, and the store had been having trouble with "North Africans". Let's assume the worst, that Hermes is a racially-biased organization and poor judges of character and is employed by mean, spiteful, nasty people, overall. Even if that were true, it doesn't change the fact that Oprah Winfrey can't tell time.

Really, let's not make this something it isn't. Racist people and organizations exist, and when we learn they exist we can shun them, we can ignore them, and we can rescind our orders for purses that cost as much as a year's rent for some folks.

But what we must not do, what we must endeavor to always remember, is that everyone has to play by the rules. And if you smile on TV and make a million dollars for every tooth in your head, or if you proclaim your love for a woman you met two months earlier who just happens to have a blockbuster movie coming out a week before your own blockbuster movie, and if you have the last name of a hotel chain and like to act stupid and get things for free even when you could buy them a thousand times over, you have to understand: you are not special. You are merely recognizable.

You still have arrive on time.

a doowron production

well, there's always charity work

2005-07-03T10:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's Live 8 concerts went off without a hitch, but it appears poverty still exists this morning, so I guess the effort by Bob "One Concert, One Cause, Every Twenty Years" Geldof can be labeled a failure.

Seriously, all this "we don't want your donations, we just want your voice" stuff is a little wrong-headed. You can voice all the opinions you want but if you don't contribute, whether by action or funding, you're just a little flag waving in the wind, and sooner or later you're just going to go home. Big concerts these days just seem to be reasons to get drunk, sunburned (and in the case of the Woodstock reunion, gangbanged) and listen to some music that is much more enjoyable on CD. If I were a cause man, I'd simply be doing what I can for my local charity or developing a group to spearhead some form of grass-roots activism (two words which have taken on a dirty meaning these days, though in their basic forms they are ultimately the most honest and positive tools for progress).

But let's be clear on something: I am not a cause man. In fact, I find most causes these days to be overblown, didactic, badly-managed, poorly-directed and usually really, really annoying. At least, the ones that get all the press. If I had to fight for a cause it would be the one that would eliminate all other issues were it to be successful: for people to treat each other kindly, respectfully, and to act honorably and with some modicum of dignity. I do not care about your color, ethnicity, sexual preference, political belief, depth of faith, intelligence level or breadth of achievement. If you can step up to me and be a human being for a moment, I'll be alright with that.

you say you want a revolution?

whoa! of the wow!

2005-06-29T19:11:00.000-07:00

We went to our local googleplex tonight and saw War of the Worlds, that multi-million-dollar thingie Tom Cruise was supposed to be promoting as he recently hopped from couch to table to Katie to Matt Lauer's Enemies List. Movie star behavioral issues aside, director Steven Spielberg can be proud of his film, which is effective to such a degree that I almost wish it were not so.

WotW is, frankly, relentless. The movie is quite in tune with its nail-biting habit. So much so that the problem lies in the fact that pandemonium, mass-hysteria and sheer, constant terror probably shouldn't be maintained for almost two hours straight, for fear of seeming sadistic. If it seems like the film ends with kind of a calm, sighing breath, it is because exhaustion is the only plausible result for both its characters and its audience. I am not yet certain if this is a good or bad thing; the film is clearly well-made, as the persistent effects will attest (But is this really a concern? This is the man who brought dinosaurs so seamlessly to life in Jurassic Park.). And with the exception of Tim Robbins' bad east coast dialect and looney tune flailings (really now, if aliens were outside your door, wouldn't you know to shut up?), the actors all do a fine job of registering sixteen levels of crazed fear, horror and grief.

Yet the film really never quite lets up. Even in calmer moments, there is always some awful droning from a nearby alien vehicle, or a steadily escalating throng of citizens attempting to flee the next dusting by galactic sharecroppers. And it's a film not one whit afraid of Grand Guignol darkness. There is a panoramic shot of a valley that has been affected by what the aliens end up doing to humans, and the horizon is lit up with the colors of the result. It's quite horrifying, and not the sort of thing Spielberg excels at, but clearly should try more often. It isn't a sugar-coated, happy-slappy funtime of a movie. It is not E.T., unless E.T. became a million vampiric E.T.s, all armed with spindly-legged tripods and steel-blue death rays. But it is a tremendously powerful scare trip, and if you don't mind the lack of narrative explanation (we are to assume that the aliens arrived after monitoring Earth for so long because they needed a new take-out joint, but you don't really get enough time to consider such implausibilities) you should like it just fine.

ALSO IN THEATERS...

George A. Romero's Land of the Dead is a fine follow-up to his original Dead Trilogy. In fact, I would go as far as saying it could be the second best film of the four. Dawn, on repeat viewings, becomes a little too steadfast in its message about rampant consumerism, and the actual zombies aren't that horrible to watch. Day was never very good to begin with and even worse in retrospect. Land's only real fault is that it comes after so many better films that were spawned by Romero's originals that it seems to be the last gasp in a long and warbling death-rattle. Still, John Leguizamo, Simon Baker and Romero are dutiful servants to the zombie ouevre, and the film doesn't ever lag or become silly. Give it a look...if it is still there by the time you read this (we were two of six people in the audience for our mid-evening screening, and this was three days after it opened...I feel confident it will do bang-up business on DVD).

AND ON DVD...

Still watching films for the upcoming festival (which is why I haven't had an entry in 10 days). And I must say, they range from well-that-was-far-better-than-I-had-anticipated to oh-dear-god-I-didn't-know-103-minutes-could-feel-like-7-hours. But as I stated earlier, I will speak about them all later, at the end of August.

wanta fanta?