Friday

It's Friday. And this is my favourite Friday song (it just feels like the weekend). I wanted to post it, but there is no real video, and the live versions were all fairly low quality, so feel free to just play the video and go do something else while listening to the song (That's the Way We Get By, by Spoon).

Argento Poem

We’re watching Italian Horror movies in class
On screen women are murdered en masse
Including a lesbian couple, just so more women have to die
On their lawn is a silver bust,
Placed there by the art director I guess because this is what lesbians would have on their lawn
Announcing to the world, “we like naked women”.

Across the theatre, the classroom,
There is a boy I had a crush on
And seeing him today, wonder if I still do,
And I turn my head to look at him in the dark, see the outline
Think I hear him laugh
Imagine us in future classes curved in darkness together
ha
Behind me, is a girl, a friend,
We both confided our crushes at the same time
This is bound to be awkward.

The light is too dim to write my notes
About castration anxiety (the murderer is known as the headhunter)
And the chain that binds the hero, a long steel umbilical cord,
So they are scrawled all over the page
Up and down and upside down on both sides of the paper
This director always plays the black gloved hands, says the professor
And of course, he is the ultimate killer, the ultimate saviour
He is in control of this world
And I must say, if someone feels the need to kill a great many beautiful women
On screen is better than on the street
I guess




*I have been going through my old essays from film classes, craving critical thought, still thinking about doing a phd, despite entreaties from certain people not to. I took an auteurism class (twice, actually, with different directors). This time it was with Dario Argento and David Cronenberg, and so I searched my hard drive for documents with the word Argento to see if anything was hiding. I found this poem. I don't remember writing it (in September of 2005, apparently). I think it's really funny.

Great Lake Swimmers

It amazes me, sometimes, how many people and things there are in the world. There's always something new to discover.

All of a sudden, people started mentioning the Great Lake Swimmers. People in different cities, who didn't know one another. So I listened.



They are glorious.

Winterspring

Saturday was a glorious day. It was fresh and warm (er than it had been in a long time, at least) and beautifully sunny. People were out in the quad, drawing and playing music, singing, being young and gorgeous and alive. The whole world was young and gorgeous alive.

Then came Sunday. I woke up to white and black and grey, snow swirling heavily outside my window.

I was... a little bit despairing.

And craving colour.

So I went to the art store and dropped a significant amount of money on art supplies: a new sketchbook/journal (I love journaling on unlined pages) and 7 gorgeous shades of art pen.


And I drew pictures of flowers.


And felt infinite (ly better).

The Wackness

Ahh 1994. I remember you well. I would go home after school to watch Rapcity on Much Music (yes, this is true). I was devastated by the death of Kurt Cobain (even though before it happened I didn't even know who he was). My favourite actress was Drew Barrymore (I still wish we were best friends). I wore ridiculous baggy jeans with giant plaid shirts and white face powder with revlon's Blackberry lipstick. I was 12.

It's the summer of 1994 and Luke Shapiro is is either the most popular of the unpopular kids or the most unpopular of the popular, but that doesn’t matter anymore because high school is over. Alone in sweltering New York City, during the no-man's-land between graduation and starting college, Luke is "mad depressed, yo." He spends the summer dealing pot to, among other people, his psychiatrist, Dr. Jeffrey Squires (Ben Kingsley - oh sorry, Sir Ben Kingsley), who imparts this wisdom: "Don't trust anyone who doesn't smoke pot and listen to Bob Dylan." Boundaries are shifting, and Luke finds himself in love with a girl who barely spoke to him in school. But the relationship between Luke and Dr. Squires, who is himself going through a bit of a breakdown, is the real heart of the story. The Wackness is about the things men do to become the men they need to be (you can replace the word men with people, but it's really nice to have a soulful, beautiful film about men and their relationships).

The Wackness is a beautiful portrait of a young man who exists in the same state as many others, disconnected from the world and from other people, and about the process by which he makes a connection and starts living his life. It's a masterpiece of time and place and mood, centred and steady and it spins with a perfect velocity through the moments it holds up for reflection and admiration. Plus it has a dope soundtrack.

10/10 stars. (I've switched to a ten star system - something about being in school).

Places I want to be right now and why (kind of)

Scandinavia. I don't know which country. Maybe Sweden? Because I miss being blonde.

Miami. Hot. Food.

New Orleans. Food.

Paris. Because I miss the feeling. It is like being free and dedicated to pleasure and connection.

What is coming?

Something.

Books I bought today

Lovingkindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness by Sharon Salzberg.

I've been meaning to read something by Sharon Salzberg for quite some time. When I was about eight years old, my dad started practicing Buddhism, and it had a profound impact on my world view and spirituality and sense of life. I remember being upset about someone being mean to me, and going to my dad, and chanting with him for just a couple of minutes (seconds? I have no idea), and yes, it was that simple, I felt better. I think a lot about Buddhism, and about what it would be like to be a monk, and about the lessons one would learn and how one would learn them. I had the thought, yesterday, If a monk were being attacked by a wild dog, would he fight back? And the answer is no. I guess my question is if I were a monk and attacked by a wild dog, would I fight back. At this stage in my life, yes, I probably would (I can't imagine being so centred and so sure as to not let instinct take over to save myself).

And then there is that other side of myself - the side that delights in pleasure and sensation and dinners that cost hundreds of dollars (not that I've done that more than once). And that part bought Service Included: Four-star Secrets of an Eavesdropping Waiter, by Phoebe Damrosch. I love food. It is probably my main pleasure and passion and joy in the world. And I love reading about it, though not nearly as much as eating it. I was slightly disappointed when I got home and looked it up on amazon, because it doesn't have the best reviews, although the cover pronounces it to be a New York Times Book Review Notable Book of the Year. I read the introduction while in the bookstore, and I enjoyed it, so I'm hoping to be one of those people who would give it five stars. I'll let you know.

The best thing about buying books as presents for myself is that when I've finished I can pass them on.

Back to Buddhism for a moment. One of my favourite Buddhists is Tina Turner - she radiates the groundedness and sense of self and joy that I would like to embody. (Is it totally un-Buddhist to have a favourite Buddhist?)

You should watch this

I've been thinking a lot about old movies, ones that have stayed with me since I've seen them, however long ago that might be. These are films that I feel very lucky to have seen, so I am going to start showcasing my favourites, with the hope that some of you will be inspired the next time you go to the video store (if anyone even does that, anymore). (Or the library! You can get DVDs from the library! For free! Go support those wonderful people.)

First up on the list, among my favourite films ever. I could watch it every day. That may be hyperbole, but still - I love it.

Imitation of Life - 1959 - Directed by Douglas Sirk





This is among the most glorious, heartbreaking films I have ever seen. It follows the stories of two single mothers - one white, one black - as they perform the near-impossible task of raising their daughters. This is melodrama at its best, in technicolor.

Eight billion stars.

When you live somewhere with winter for the first time

I am having wintertime firsts, and it is so exciting. The snow, today, was different than any other snow I have been in. Walking across the snow, it started to crack under my feet. The top layer was brittle, and it shifted and crunched down in big pieces as I shifted my weight. It felt like walking on top of a giant pie. I reached down and picked up a disk of the top layer of ice/snow, and tossed it like a frisbee. Luckily I didn't hit anyone.

It was cool. I feel about five.