the music of my mother...my mom has a large collection of folk music from the 60's and 70's. growing up i was tortured by the sound of BOb Dylan, joan Baez, and such crying the plight of the civil rights era. they fought wars with poetry and acoustics and curled in a ball in my closet trying to block them out.
but now i actually like Dylan and some of the sound i once whined through.
This year the music world lost two of my mother favorite singers.
Odetta husky meaningful voice loomed through our house as if it were so apart of the meaning of our home it held the walls up and kept the roof from caving in.
Mirium Mekeba on rare foreign sound close to my grandfather home land...a mix of meaning and plight of south Africa. i remember her with the smell of Portuguese sausage on Sunday mornings, and wind blowing open the old dusty shades in the hall that only showed light on those warm afternoon.
Monday, December 29, 2008
remember the trip to boston
Scanning the crowd for something familiar, but there are few familiar things in a science museum to an 8 yr old. I was alone but oddly not panicked; I spent most of the day, most of my life wandering around alone. Even when I was forced to tour the museum with a pack of girl scouts and their stay at home moms. These woman creeped me, they always seemed to be talking but rarely did they actually “say” anything. I remember even at that age thinking I was smarter then them, at least more street smart.
Anyways those hyenas left me in the lobby as they cautiously held their daughter hands and led them to the departing bus. It took me a moment to realize I was alone in the crowd. The way children do, it took me that beat, that sudden awareness of the open waters and then I found my panic coming. I rushed around very aware they could just leave me, they could get on a bus, and being as unsavy as they are of the urban terrain just as easily leave me, rather then forge a plan to find me.
If they did realize they didn’t have me, it would be the usual time spent amongst them clucking like hens about what to do, how typically it was for that girl to get “herself” lost, and I could image them standing around the bus doors not really stepping back out into the urban jungle they had just prepared themselves to leave. I was very aware I would have to bring myself to them, I was quicker, more agile, and wasn’t burden by suburban hesitations.
I ran out side, circled around the penguin tanks and piles of mothers eyeing for their daughter safety. I took moment to admire the irony and realize the sadness of my own worth in this situation. I know if they knew I was gone they would worry madly as mother do for young but would not act as quickly as they would if it had been their own child. Not just cuz I wasn’t there own child but because I was that child. That odd, quiet, strangely configured kid who was all too familiar with that sensation of wandering off. They couldn’t image me crying on the steps waiting for their rescue and so I couldn’t imagine them moving panicked to be my rescuer.
I saw a bus pulling off about 100 ft away and then the rush of fear rose up from my feet pulling me in to a mad dash towards them and spilling out in a screaming pitch calling for them to stop, don’t for get me, I am here, you don’t have me.
The bus has gone from a rectangle to the square with burning red eyes looking back at me and spitting grey smoke.
I am out of breath, collapsing over my self, face first into the cloud of toxins and deeply breathing them in. I am out of breath from a young life time not spent doing too much running and now choking and ready to vomit.
I could almost cry and it must show. The tourists are looking at me as strangely as they do the penguin tank. I can see the moment where the mothers want to ask me if I am ok; I turn and play it cool. By this moment I cannot stand the idea of someone else mother helping where it was someone else’s mothers whom had just left me in this situation.
I stride with my head up back to the tank that easily gets plenty of attention I would never know, I think I am pulling off a pretty convincing calm but I am sure my face is red with terror.
A woman is following me, I can see her in the corner of my eye. I walk faster, not afraid but more annoyed. She gets closer, gingerly reaching out to comfort; I book it, fuck her. Fuck her motherly concern; I avoid her as I would brattily avoid my own mother when I don’t want to deal with her.
I run looking back seeing her grow small, feel so big myself. I am in full wind in hair stride. Feeling almost too proud of her defeat. Then BAM I slam right into the cushiony side of another woman. She had to be a mother; no one just gets that cushiony with out having a few kids to blame it on. She had one of those bodies if you cut her head off you wouldn’t know if you were looking at her front, her side, or the back of her. It was all the same round, soft perspective. I don’t find her body repulsive; I always found this shape oddly soothing. And even though I was heading face first into it, and then thrown the ground by it, I still found it comforting.
The round women helped to my feet more embarrassed then I was, she brushed me off with the familiarity of my own mom, holding me up by me arm checking me for damages. I kind of hung there for moment slack, pliable the way child gets when being held, good thing she had me by this odd hold or my desperation would have driven me to hug her. Cling to her for comfort, my arms getting lost in her rolls and being too short armed or her too round I would grab onto her fleshiness with two handfuls.
Then I heard something familiar, the shrill substitute teacher voice of my den mother. That voice that when it come into a room it shuts everything down, which seem counterproductive for an organization that promote community involvement. That voice that I couldn’t imagine calling me to dinner every night, or talking to me about drugs, or explaining what a tampon was. I thank god that voice wasn’t my mom. Seem fitting that very un siren sound would be the one to call me to safety.
Seem all the troupe was gathered for group shots around the corner, the voice was gathering them for a last shot before getting on our bus still parked where it had dropped us off. Still languid, un abandoning, but as my custom forgotten because remembering direction was never my strong suit.
I rounded the corner to see the smiling faces gather, FLASHES, and then dispand quickly getting on the bus and ready to retreat to the safety of their suburbia. No one notices my absence or my return. I blended in, half teary but guarding my face as if just tired.
I sat by the window watching it all grow away from me, strangely missing the city, its streets, its smell, its intrigue.
I heard the hens discussing their day. They talked about the difference between people from Connecticut and people in Boston. Funny to me now because to anyone not from the Northeast we are all the same stick up your butt new Englanders. But the moms marveled at the bigness of the city which again now amuses me, having seen much larger and grander cities. I hadn’t realized then as I do now this was their big trip, their escape more then our wonder. They were mommies of the kind that didn’t really see the world after mother hood and perhaps would never see much of the world at all beyond motherhood.
One had bought a watch on the street. She gleamed, and it gleamed. Bragged about the price and how her husband will never know what she rally paid for it. They all giggled and winked knowingly. I had no dad and could imagine getting anyone such a thing or anyone in my life ever caring what I spent on something I got them. The watch looked precious but I was skeptical. Half way through the drive home as she admired it simply fell apart as if nothing was ever really holding it together. It was nothing but a handful of parts. Oddly that when I admired it most and kind of wanted it.
Anyways those hyenas left me in the lobby as they cautiously held their daughter hands and led them to the departing bus. It took me a moment to realize I was alone in the crowd. The way children do, it took me that beat, that sudden awareness of the open waters and then I found my panic coming. I rushed around very aware they could just leave me, they could get on a bus, and being as unsavy as they are of the urban terrain just as easily leave me, rather then forge a plan to find me.
If they did realize they didn’t have me, it would be the usual time spent amongst them clucking like hens about what to do, how typically it was for that girl to get “herself” lost, and I could image them standing around the bus doors not really stepping back out into the urban jungle they had just prepared themselves to leave. I was very aware I would have to bring myself to them, I was quicker, more agile, and wasn’t burden by suburban hesitations.
I ran out side, circled around the penguin tanks and piles of mothers eyeing for their daughter safety. I took moment to admire the irony and realize the sadness of my own worth in this situation. I know if they knew I was gone they would worry madly as mother do for young but would not act as quickly as they would if it had been their own child. Not just cuz I wasn’t there own child but because I was that child. That odd, quiet, strangely configured kid who was all too familiar with that sensation of wandering off. They couldn’t image me crying on the steps waiting for their rescue and so I couldn’t imagine them moving panicked to be my rescuer.
I saw a bus pulling off about 100 ft away and then the rush of fear rose up from my feet pulling me in to a mad dash towards them and spilling out in a screaming pitch calling for them to stop, don’t for get me, I am here, you don’t have me.
The bus has gone from a rectangle to the square with burning red eyes looking back at me and spitting grey smoke.
I am out of breath, collapsing over my self, face first into the cloud of toxins and deeply breathing them in. I am out of breath from a young life time not spent doing too much running and now choking and ready to vomit.
I could almost cry and it must show. The tourists are looking at me as strangely as they do the penguin tank. I can see the moment where the mothers want to ask me if I am ok; I turn and play it cool. By this moment I cannot stand the idea of someone else mother helping where it was someone else’s mothers whom had just left me in this situation.
I stride with my head up back to the tank that easily gets plenty of attention I would never know, I think I am pulling off a pretty convincing calm but I am sure my face is red with terror.
A woman is following me, I can see her in the corner of my eye. I walk faster, not afraid but more annoyed. She gets closer, gingerly reaching out to comfort; I book it, fuck her. Fuck her motherly concern; I avoid her as I would brattily avoid my own mother when I don’t want to deal with her.
I run looking back seeing her grow small, feel so big myself. I am in full wind in hair stride. Feeling almost too proud of her defeat. Then BAM I slam right into the cushiony side of another woman. She had to be a mother; no one just gets that cushiony with out having a few kids to blame it on. She had one of those bodies if you cut her head off you wouldn’t know if you were looking at her front, her side, or the back of her. It was all the same round, soft perspective. I don’t find her body repulsive; I always found this shape oddly soothing. And even though I was heading face first into it, and then thrown the ground by it, I still found it comforting.
The round women helped to my feet more embarrassed then I was, she brushed me off with the familiarity of my own mom, holding me up by me arm checking me for damages. I kind of hung there for moment slack, pliable the way child gets when being held, good thing she had me by this odd hold or my desperation would have driven me to hug her. Cling to her for comfort, my arms getting lost in her rolls and being too short armed or her too round I would grab onto her fleshiness with two handfuls.
Then I heard something familiar, the shrill substitute teacher voice of my den mother. That voice that when it come into a room it shuts everything down, which seem counterproductive for an organization that promote community involvement. That voice that I couldn’t imagine calling me to dinner every night, or talking to me about drugs, or explaining what a tampon was. I thank god that voice wasn’t my mom. Seem fitting that very un siren sound would be the one to call me to safety.
Seem all the troupe was gathered for group shots around the corner, the voice was gathering them for a last shot before getting on our bus still parked where it had dropped us off. Still languid, un abandoning, but as my custom forgotten because remembering direction was never my strong suit.
I rounded the corner to see the smiling faces gather, FLASHES, and then dispand quickly getting on the bus and ready to retreat to the safety of their suburbia. No one notices my absence or my return. I blended in, half teary but guarding my face as if just tired.
I sat by the window watching it all grow away from me, strangely missing the city, its streets, its smell, its intrigue.
I heard the hens discussing their day. They talked about the difference between people from Connecticut and people in Boston. Funny to me now because to anyone not from the Northeast we are all the same stick up your butt new Englanders. But the moms marveled at the bigness of the city which again now amuses me, having seen much larger and grander cities. I hadn’t realized then as I do now this was their big trip, their escape more then our wonder. They were mommies of the kind that didn’t really see the world after mother hood and perhaps would never see much of the world at all beyond motherhood.
One had bought a watch on the street. She gleamed, and it gleamed. Bragged about the price and how her husband will never know what she rally paid for it. They all giggled and winked knowingly. I had no dad and could imagine getting anyone such a thing or anyone in my life ever caring what I spent on something I got them. The watch looked precious but I was skeptical. Half way through the drive home as she admired it simply fell apart as if nothing was ever really holding it together. It was nothing but a handful of parts. Oddly that when I admired it most and kind of wanted it.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Don't Tempt Me
When the leaders of Heaven and Hell, Marina D'Angelo (Fanny Ardant) and Davenport (Gael García Bernal) respectively, decide to fight for the soul of the decadent boxer Manny (Demián Bichir), they send their best agents to Earth. The singer Lola Nevado (Victoria Abril) from Heaven and the former gangster Carmen Ramos (Penélope Cruz) from Hell are assigned to get his soul, and they have a tough dispute to accomplish their mission.
"Sin Noticias de Dios" is an original comedies with a very funny, ironically charming story
Agustín Díaz Yanes direction is very precise; the wonderful cast, with a very charming and sexy Penélope Cruz; a stunning (as usual) Victoria Abril singing in a perfect Portuguese; an elegant and classy Fanny Ardant; and a very funny Gael García Bernal, has also the participation of Demián Bichir (from "Sexo Pudor Y Lágrimas", "Santitos" and "In the Time of the Butterflies"), Elsa Pataky (from "Beyond Re-Animator" and "Romasanta") and an uncredited last scene with Javier Bardem. The vision of Heaven as Paris, Hell as an American prison (could be a South-American one – certainly they are worse) and the Hell's administrator as an American president in his car with his body-guards are absolutely hilarious. Victoria Abril singing "I'm Evil" and Penélope Cruz dancing an extremely sexy dance are delightful.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Guilty Pleasure Blog
So one of my guiltiest pleasure in college was reading the blog of a neurotic girl who lived in my dorms. I shared this guilty pleasure with a few co-conspirators. one being one of my closest friend i met in the dorm, in fact i think this blog was one of the things that really brought us together. The other person we shared this obsession with is now my current favorite blogger.
today, everyone i know has a blog. each of varying degrees of self truth to them, many just digital collages of what they think makes them seem more interesting. the worst of the worst for me are the tumblr blogs . most of those are just regurgitated bits of other peoples blogs.
Sometimes these blogs are a great way to learn about new thing i might not have seek out on my own, like latest mac technology, political history, information on art and sciences that do interest me but i rarely think to look up when i am online.
The really like a photo journal of a friend from collage does where she takes a picture a day of an outfitin front of some decorative backdrop in or around his bohemian styled home. She poses in basically the same ways, rarely acknowledging the camera, as if someone else were taking the pictures for her, but the abundance of this pictures suggest a person with a lot of free time alone. she then describes the entire outfit and acessories in detail and where they were purchased. its kind of mundane at times but she is a very creative person and it fascinating to see how she brings together her obsession with vintage with (surprise to me) contemporary pieces of clothing she buys at popular stores. until this blog i really thought everything she had was vintage. i never imagined her stepping for in a Bergdorf or MAcy's . but she does and does it well by mixes a vintage Flintstones sweater with fancy knock off shoes and a macy special belt.
Another favorite is a photo log a friend does on flickr where along with occasional commentary on his current life in the peace corp somewhere in Africa/middle east, he has an on going log of cult/ lesser known thriller/horror moves often with female protagonists. i love them . he opens with an amazing articulate synopsis, (he went to NYU) and then give a photo essay that makes you immediately netflix and imdb his subject.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/hypostylin/collections/72157603831990135/
if your every bored or if you love camp thrillers as much as i do check out is screeencaps and get inspired.
Friday, October 17, 2008
the Gay republican
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i found out recently a friend of mine who is competing on the currently shooting season of Project Runway, is a gay republican. This doesn't surprise me for a number of reasons. one being we met in the south, and it was in Georgia that i met my first gay republican and learned about the movement. secondly, he is portuguese catholic from New England, just like me so i can understanfd the climate of conservativism that must have grown up with. The portugues are notoriously conservatie and will smak you up with a life times worth of catholic guilt issues.
Lastly, this person though i love them thrives on a certain sense of self created dramatics. what's more dramatic then believing your way of loving is some how not worthy of be recognized as a union of love. That's one of his main point as a gay republican, that gays shouldn't be allowed to marry. its not a legal or biblical union worth recognition.
I've heard him say this before but honestly i thought he was just be contradictory for flare, i never believed he'd vote Bush over it.
The gay republican is a quagmire for me, i guess for many people. The idea someone could have dueling opinions or be a republican and not fully be taken by all their opinion doesn't surprise me. its that the republican party has long held it position on not recognizing and i feel there for not respecting the gay community. it continuously remakes on it as a moral issue and has long held a negative almost hateful opinion of gay unions.
So how does one support that party. It like being on welfare and being a republican.
Sites like gaypatriot.com hope to dispel such an uninformed opinion such as mine. I have bookmark it with huffingtonreport.com and that will be the extent of my political knowledge. i got some back blogs entries of perez hilton to read.
Trekkers are shitting themselves
So all my trekky friends are going ape shit currently over the new Star trek movie and i have to admit it i am too. i really love Star Trek.Not just Next Generation, or the original but all of them even the lame as hell Voyager cuz if your a fan your a fan.
I like the optimism of Star Trek, its hopefulness. Usually i am opposed to remakes of any kind but this one i am not so offended by because i am so jonesing for am Trek. Also nerd alert its got Simon Peg and hereos Zachery Quinto. Whom though i suspect he might be gay i still have a crush on him.
Once again i get to art direct
I art directd a short film project for a friend of mine yesterday. it was so great to get together with a friend and just create something. I missed dding that in college.
He are some stills. i will post a link later of our first cut.
He are some stills. i will post a link later of our first cut.
Currently i am working three jobs. I returned to reality tv out of desperation after about a month of no calls for work. I am on Make me a Super Model with the same coordinators from Project Runway but not enough of the organization. It's not their fault really, its just a very different set up and too much transitioning going on between firing of the AD and the UPM quitting.
What i liked about reality is the set works hours, they don't like to pay OT so you cut out at 12hrs on the dot. its the fist time on a production my bosses have insisted i go home. usually they just keep you till you soul shrivels up and dies a little and you've waited to get every fucking GE teamster props costume etc. persons out time.
but on reality its a 24hr day so pa's are rotate throughout the day.
There is a lot of opportunity to disappear in a day like that. there are so many PA's and so many locations and nooks and crannies to the places we house the contestant i get a lot of opportunity to read and draw on rooftops.
A connection from a film i propped on last summer gave me a lead on a set dressing gig on a Russian feature film. Turns out i know the lead man from a couple of other jobs. its an interesting crew of mostly black men of various ages older then me. they like really like my humor and seem amused by my sassiness. I like crews like this the best because they got nothing to prove, they have the ease of a sense of position that pa don't. some of the guys are old school, have more stories then a library. we drive around and the guys all have a world of opinion on food , ny, productions, and most of all woman. I did well to make them feel comfortable in expressing their opinions, my humors a good tool for that, they finally stopped apologizing for swearing.
The film got a good budget so the rate is good and the hours for set dressing are great at a 8hr day with OT. Basically i make 4 times my rate as a pa when i set dress. We shot in the Gold Club the other day, what a cheesy place, the walls are coverd with several large images of nude women in various poses tat ubscure their bushes and nipples. In some photos its clear they could not full ubscure the nippls so they air brushed anything peeking out.I guess a customer wouldn't be as critical and probably nobody ever notices.
The Lead sent me a text the night before.." We're going to be around strippers .I hope your comfortable". I texted back "I hope they are comfortable around me!"
Just to keep good relations with my gallery job i am also doing a a few days of art handling this week in hopes they take me to Chicago for the SOFA show at the armory in the beginning of November.I make the same rate as i do PAing but for a day that last half as long.
If they ask me to go to Chicago I would have to drive a box truck from NY to Chicago buti have made long hauls in like that before coming and going from college. Or they might just ask me to stay in NY and watch the gallery while their gone. i can use my down time to write and apply for grants while getting a paycheck.
Organizing my schedule has been a bitch but i really want to keep all these good relationship cause winters is coming and money has a way of getting very tight around the holiday on the East coast.
Though i heard that this next month is going to be a lot of work. I am going to put myself on the auxiliary list for local 829 and hopefully i van get some set dress work too.
What i liked about reality is the set works hours, they don't like to pay OT so you cut out at 12hrs on the dot. its the fist time on a production my bosses have insisted i go home. usually they just keep you till you soul shrivels up and dies a little and you've waited to get every fucking GE teamster props costume etc. persons out time.
but on reality its a 24hr day so pa's are rotate throughout the day.
There is a lot of opportunity to disappear in a day like that. there are so many PA's and so many locations and nooks and crannies to the places we house the contestant i get a lot of opportunity to read and draw on rooftops.
A connection from a film i propped on last summer gave me a lead on a set dressing gig on a Russian feature film. Turns out i know the lead man from a couple of other jobs. its an interesting crew of mostly black men of various ages older then me. they like really like my humor and seem amused by my sassiness. I like crews like this the best because they got nothing to prove, they have the ease of a sense of position that pa don't. some of the guys are old school, have more stories then a library. we drive around and the guys all have a world of opinion on food , ny, productions, and most of all woman. I did well to make them feel comfortable in expressing their opinions, my humors a good tool for that, they finally stopped apologizing for swearing.
The film got a good budget so the rate is good and the hours for set dressing are great at a 8hr day with OT. Basically i make 4 times my rate as a pa when i set dress. We shot in the Gold Club the other day, what a cheesy place, the walls are coverd with several large images of nude women in various poses tat ubscure their bushes and nipples. In some photos its clear they could not full ubscure the nippls so they air brushed anything peeking out.I guess a customer wouldn't be as critical and probably nobody ever notices.
The Lead sent me a text the night before.." We're going to be around strippers .I hope your comfortable". I texted back "I hope they are comfortable around me!"
Just to keep good relations with my gallery job i am also doing a a few days of art handling this week in hopes they take me to Chicago for the SOFA show at the armory in the beginning of November.I make the same rate as i do PAing but for a day that last half as long.
If they ask me to go to Chicago I would have to drive a box truck from NY to Chicago buti have made long hauls in like that before coming and going from college. Or they might just ask me to stay in NY and watch the gallery while their gone. i can use my down time to write and apply for grants while getting a paycheck.
Organizing my schedule has been a bitch but i really want to keep all these good relationship cause winters is coming and money has a way of getting very tight around the holiday on the East coast.
Though i heard that this next month is going to be a lot of work. I am going to put myself on the auxiliary list for local 829 and hopefully i van get some set dress work too.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
TROLL THE MOVIE
i remember watching Troll when i was a little kid. My mom let me watch horror movies a lot as a kid. in fact it wasn't even a question with her, which is weird for her because she is usually ridiculously protective.
i think i must have watched it when it played as a Spine Tingler, which where scary movies (usually bad one) that played TV on Sunday afternoons.
For long time i could only remember bits and pieces of it but not really anything scary. it was the idea of the film that always stuck with me. the idea an urban contemporary environment could be transformed into sometime other worldly. I remember shots like the cop being sucked through a tenement door into a magic forest not very different looking then my own backyard. I remember a little person being transformed into a puck or elf-like creature. sometime here in New york when i am in apartment building like the one in the movie i like to pretend behind some door is a door to another realm. its a comforting thought for me.
I always was inspired by the idea of that movie. It been on cable lately cuz i guess they are remaking it possibly with Ally Lohan. I am not gonna hate on it just yet. with some care it could actually make a good movie but Lohan not exactly aking it to another level.
Yolele! Recipes from the Heart of Senegal
Kanta invited me to a tasting at a residence in Crown Heights where a friend of hers, chef Pierre Thiam,was signing his new cook book Yolele!. He says it is the first book written on Senegalese cooking originally written in English. Thiams is an amazing friendly person who talked for a bit too long about Senegal, food, and Brooklyn before he let us dig into the amazing spread of tradition recipes he made for us to taste. Kanta and i were somewhat out of place.
well, me most of all. The tasting was in a brownstone owned by a school teacher and her professional husband. It was a very Cosby-esque place and crowd. most everyone else was an older black professionals , with sophisticated interest in Africa, local community and the arts.
Thaim owns a restaurant that is actually only 2 blocks from my house. i pass it all the time, its a really funky place tat at night is always full of music and life. it kind of hidden too, like a great place in Brooklyn. Cant wait to eat there when i got a job.not that it expensive . i just cannot bring myself to eat out when unemployed, my guilt doesn't let me have much of an appetite.
Thaims talked to me for a bit about Cape Verde, growing up his mother only spoke the in an African Portuguese creole the same my grandfather did.he made me feel very welcome.
I had walked 40 minute from my house there through a variety of Brooklyn neighborhoods, it reminded me of Savannah how it went from good to bad to good again.
I think i might have a dinner party and make some of the recipes. they are actually quite simple fresh dishes. the kind that impress people but don't really take a whole lot of effort.
Dakar is open everyday from 12:00pm to 1:00am
285 Grand Avenue
Between Lafayette Avenue and Clifton Place
Take G train to Classon Avenue
www.dakarcafe.net
well, me most of all. The tasting was in a brownstone owned by a school teacher and her professional husband. It was a very Cosby-esque place and crowd. most everyone else was an older black professionals , with sophisticated interest in Africa, local community and the arts.
Thaim owns a restaurant that is actually only 2 blocks from my house. i pass it all the time, its a really funky place tat at night is always full of music and life. it kind of hidden too, like a great place in Brooklyn. Cant wait to eat there when i got a job.not that it expensive . i just cannot bring myself to eat out when unemployed, my guilt doesn't let me have much of an appetite.
Thaims talked to me for a bit about Cape Verde, growing up his mother only spoke the in an African Portuguese creole the same my grandfather did.he made me feel very welcome.
I had walked 40 minute from my house there through a variety of Brooklyn neighborhoods, it reminded me of Savannah how it went from good to bad to good again.
I think i might have a dinner party and make some of the recipes. they are actually quite simple fresh dishes. the kind that impress people but don't really take a whole lot of effort.
Dakar is open everyday from 12:00pm to 1:00am
285 Grand Avenue
Between Lafayette Avenue and Clifton Place
Take G train to Classon Avenue
www.dakarcafe.net
True Blood Open Credits
The opening credits to the new HBO series True Blood is absolutely beautiful. I love the music. The first shot of i think a dead catfishin swampy water has me hook everytime. i would have loved to been with the editor of this while he was cutting it. Whenever i see it i like to figure out what might be found footage and what was shot. Also i am really intrigued by the melting film/blood curddling efffect.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Secret Science
http://secretscienceclub.blogspot.com/
http://www.physics.princeton.edu/~trothman/
Christine has been trying to get me to go to Secret Science for months but i never have the time. I went this past Wednesday and heard Princeton Professor, Tony Rothman. HE spoke about his compilation of his book Sacred Mathematics. The house was packed and after a 40 minute lecture of PBR there was a Q & A with some very enthusiastic math/physics fans. It was amazing. only in New York could a lecture on physic pack the same venue indie bands and burlesque shows fill.
I love nerdtastic moments. After the professor was rushed by a crowd with fan fare and additional question on his work. i couldn't look away. Next months topic is Science Fiction, this is repeat show which i am very excited to attend.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Walk the other day
I had a weird walk the other day here in Brooklyn. I took a different route then i usually do and i stumbled upon the crazy couple house from Dave Chappel Block Party. I f you seen the movie you might remember when Chappel came upon this crazy older couple whom showed him their home in Brooklyn. They live in a wild old, thrown together looking building that was like cross between a shack and a tenement building with a little bit of a church thrown in there. It on the movies poster in silhouette.
It actually right around the corner from my place, right by my favorite salvation army store. i just never noticed it before because i just beyond the salvation army and i usually stop there and don't go further. Later on the same walk i literally bumped into this actor...
...while he was walking his beagle.
nice walk.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Assume the Position 201 with Mr. Robert Wuhl
The key to history is who tells the story. I have had crushes on my history teachers before but this one truly has won my heart.
To sharpen his lesson plan, he went on the road to the University of California, Los Angeles; the University of Southern California; Loyola; and California State, where he offered students pizza to listen to his riffs.
Mr. Wuhl's college tour built what was supposed to be a 10-minute presentation to HBO. He got the green light for a pilot then turned it into a half-hour routine with enough pop-culture references to please Stephen King; simple, Pythonesque slide animation; and guest lecturers on tape (the social critic Sarah Vowell and the MSNBC commentator Tucker Carlson among them).
Wuhl debunks the popular idea of history giving a classroom of undergrad the greatest education of their young live.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Blow jobs and chaplin
i was with a friend this past weekend. After 24 hrs of beers and margaritas and way too much bad dancing she confessed she would like to have a penis for like 30 minutes. just enough time to experience what it like for man to get a blow job. kindly a friend offered to accompany her to the bathroom and describe to her his every sensation but she polity declined. I was amazed at his confidence in his ability to articulate during such experience and even took it as a slight to her skills that he could not be so easily distracted.
Surprisingly a few other woman with us confessed the same curiosity. Which to me was an interesting tell. It made me suspect that their own satisfaction as woman and experience with getting oral sex was questionable and/or perhaps their confidence in giving it. its a common enough issue with woman which led to girl talk and very comfortable with himself guy friend throwing his two cents in every now and then.
my friends curiosity was purely limited to this singular male experience. other then that she really didn't give much thought to any other aspect of the male exsistance.It was almost like what else is there ....
other then penis's what else do man have we dont???
I think also it was an issue of control . a curiosity about this moment of control and pleasure as only a man can experience.
Issues of male vulnerability, like childhood surprise boners or developing body hair really wasn't of interest. a man first kiss or showering after gym or masturbation wasn't a curious a subject.
Maybe this was most of all telling of their own character and vulnerability. a need to recover some lost sense of control they have experienced.
Do man ever wonder such things? as mysterious as we are do they ever consider trading places?
I my self have only on been curious as to wat its like to be a man when i read autobiography of comedians i admire. currently i am reading Chaplin. And from time to time i do wonder what it like to them at their greatest. but that's a road of thought completly of this course.
blow job ....huh... now i do wonder? but it will just be a wonder as i am sure it can be even more a wonder for men when they are trying to transverse the wonders of the female body. good luck
but blow jobs....blow jobs struck a personal interest for theses woman.
Surprisingly a few other woman with us confessed the same curiosity. Which to me was an interesting tell. It made me suspect that their own satisfaction as woman and experience with getting oral sex was questionable and/or perhaps their confidence in giving it. its a common enough issue with woman which led to girl talk and very comfortable with himself guy friend throwing his two cents in every now and then.
my friends curiosity was purely limited to this singular male experience. other then that she really didn't give much thought to any other aspect of the male exsistance.It was almost like what else is there ....
other then penis's what else do man have we dont???
I think also it was an issue of control . a curiosity about this moment of control and pleasure as only a man can experience.
Issues of male vulnerability, like childhood surprise boners or developing body hair really wasn't of interest. a man first kiss or showering after gym or masturbation wasn't a curious a subject.
Maybe this was most of all telling of their own character and vulnerability. a need to recover some lost sense of control they have experienced.
Do man ever wonder such things? as mysterious as we are do they ever consider trading places?
I my self have only on been curious as to wat its like to be a man when i read autobiography of comedians i admire. currently i am reading Chaplin. And from time to time i do wonder what it like to them at their greatest. but that's a road of thought completly of this course.
blow job ....huh... now i do wonder? but it will just be a wonder as i am sure it can be even more a wonder for men when they are trying to transverse the wonders of the female body. good luck
but blow jobs....blow jobs struck a personal interest for theses woman.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Village of the Giants
I have realized i have a little crush on Beau Bridges. It is may seem like a pretty random attraction, but don't under rate this actually very daring and impressive man.
It all started when after i caught The Landlord (1970) on cable. In it Bridges plays a rich boy whom runs away from his privileged Manhattan up town existence to buy a tenement building in the then ghetto area of Brooklyn, Park Slope. Which is funny because today Park Slope is one of the most desirable areas for young upwardly mobile couples to moving to Brooklyn. The area has pretty much been gentrified right out of most peoples budgets.
While flipping through channel watching 3 movies at a time as i usually do i struck by the irony of this plot and then by the young good looks of Mr Bridges ( as i like to call him).
damn he was hot in the 70's and yeah still kind of is. those lips, that comfortable poise, that everyman charm it really very sexy.
The next night, as if fate had demanded it Honky Tonk Highway was on. which if you have not seen is worth a look if only for the amazing art direction . each highway motel and truck stop is more amazing then the last.Again a 70's version of Bridges captivated me.
I took a lok at his credit and Bridges has almost 200 credits to his name and over a dozen awards and nomination spanning over 3 decades of work.
I recently discovered this gem....Village of Giants. Bridges is indeed stoooooopid as hell in it, but what a pretty face.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
HEDY LAMARR is why you have cell phones?!!?
Did you know that if not for the vision of classic screen beauty Hedy Lamarr there would not be the bases for modern spread-spectrum communication technology, such as COFDM used in WiFi network connections and CDMA used in some cordless and wireless telephones.
George Antheil, a son of German immigrants and neighbor of Lamarr, had experimented with automated control of instruments. Together, he and Lamarr submitted the idea of a Secret Communication System in June 1941. This early version of frequency hopping used a piano roll to change between 88 frequencies and was intended to make radio-guided torpedoes harder for enemies to detect or jam.
The idea was impractical, ahead of its time, and not feasible due to the state of mechanical technology in 1942. Not implemented in the USA until 1962, when it was used by U.S. military ships during a blockade of Cuba,after the patent had expired. Neither Lamarr nor Antheil (who died in 1959) made any money from the patent. Perhaps due to this lag in development, the patent was little-known until 1997, when the Electronic Frontier Foundation gave Lamarr an award for this contribution.
Earth Girls Are Easy
This is one of my favorite movies . It was once one of my favorite guilty pleasure movies but now i am willing to come out of the closet and say it is one of my favorite all time movies. Actually i had forgotten all about it till the wonder that is free cable reminded me how great Earth Girls Are Easy.
Recognize anyone?!?!
Recognize anyone?!?!
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
walking home
I don't know if i was inspired or anxious but i hand wrote 12 pages in in my notebook on the bus ride to Connecticut and then on the way back i wrote 14 pages about how visits home have a way of giving you perspective of your life.
I intended to come back to my apartment and write even more but i guess greyhound got all my creative energy. I don't think i will read what wrote for a while. For now i will just be content to believe i was struck by divine inspiration and had written some of my best , most sincere work.
Tonight is one of those warm summer nights that you don't want to come inside from . if i had a fire escape i would be sitting on it all night , just feeling the breeze. I wish i could go on my rooftop. i would bring an air mattress up there and put my satin sheets on it and sleep listening to the Spanish music playing in the building across the way. Pretending i was in Barcelona.
I got on the subway on 14th street even though there is a C train on 37th right by where i am working right now. i got off the subway 2 stops too soon so i could meander through the streets enjoying the last nights of summer. i had wished for so much to happen this summer.
It did not go anything like i had planned. I did not get my apprenticeship, i slept through my opportunities, i didn't go to Alaska, didn't have a summer love, i didn't go to burning man with Kanta or LA with Nicole, i didn't finish my application for the Peace Corp or finish my collection of paintings for my fellowship application.
once the apprenticeship fell through my confidence and optimism about my opportunities took a nap. they slept in till 1 pm because they stayed up all night watching movies.
i had a few dates, a Romanian building planner who through he tried could not help but disdain American culture and made me feeling guilty for watching show like Flavor of Love. Then there was a drummer/ artist from Columbia who was young and too free spirited to enjoy sitting on the couch snuggling while watching star trek, and another flim boy whom seem so sensitive and real but again left me feeling like a colorful side character while he was the hero of his own grand narrative.
but there were victories. with the lose of my apprenticeship and prospect of a new learning opportunity . i took effort to educate myself, read more on subjects i knew nothing about, bought books on scenic art and practiced techniques i taught myself, i went to dance classes and did yoga on the regular. i took photos nearly everyday and wrote every day. i even got typing software to improve my typing. I attended museum lectures. I started going to scientific forums at the natural history museum and human right discussion groups library. I went to every free movie, show, lecture, book reading, whatever that i could this summer.
I didn't get many things that i wanted this summer, but i have learned though a series of event recently that in my life i have not often felt like i got what i wanted but rarely have not gotten what i needed. it time to end my opportunities to feel sorry for myself. it been far too long holding on to the convenience of feeling disadvantaged. i am grown woman. there really not much holding me back but myself these days.
on the walk home i passed the Baptist church with it front door open wide to let in the summer breeze while the choir practice to empty pews. I stopped for a while and stood by the open door just looking at the face of the joyous spiritual woman. they sang with such sincerity. i didn't feel like i was intruding , you cannot sing like that an not except to share it.
Its garbage day. outside the housing project someone had disguarded these wall panels of wall with amazing textured wall paper on them. Not once but twice i peeled a piece off in one whole piece. it was such a satisfying feeling. a simple pleasure. I don't know what i intend for these scraps but i am excited by there possibility.
I intended to come back to my apartment and write even more but i guess greyhound got all my creative energy. I don't think i will read what wrote for a while. For now i will just be content to believe i was struck by divine inspiration and had written some of my best , most sincere work.
Tonight is one of those warm summer nights that you don't want to come inside from . if i had a fire escape i would be sitting on it all night , just feeling the breeze. I wish i could go on my rooftop. i would bring an air mattress up there and put my satin sheets on it and sleep listening to the Spanish music playing in the building across the way. Pretending i was in Barcelona.
I got on the subway on 14th street even though there is a C train on 37th right by where i am working right now. i got off the subway 2 stops too soon so i could meander through the streets enjoying the last nights of summer. i had wished for so much to happen this summer.
It did not go anything like i had planned. I did not get my apprenticeship, i slept through my opportunities, i didn't go to Alaska, didn't have a summer love, i didn't go to burning man with Kanta or LA with Nicole, i didn't finish my application for the Peace Corp or finish my collection of paintings for my fellowship application.
once the apprenticeship fell through my confidence and optimism about my opportunities took a nap. they slept in till 1 pm because they stayed up all night watching movies.
i had a few dates, a Romanian building planner who through he tried could not help but disdain American culture and made me feeling guilty for watching show like Flavor of Love. Then there was a drummer/ artist from Columbia who was young and too free spirited to enjoy sitting on the couch snuggling while watching star trek, and another flim boy whom seem so sensitive and real but again left me feeling like a colorful side character while he was the hero of his own grand narrative.
but there were victories. with the lose of my apprenticeship and prospect of a new learning opportunity . i took effort to educate myself, read more on subjects i knew nothing about, bought books on scenic art and practiced techniques i taught myself, i went to dance classes and did yoga on the regular. i took photos nearly everyday and wrote every day. i even got typing software to improve my typing. I attended museum lectures. I started going to scientific forums at the natural history museum and human right discussion groups library. I went to every free movie, show, lecture, book reading, whatever that i could this summer.
I didn't get many things that i wanted this summer, but i have learned though a series of event recently that in my life i have not often felt like i got what i wanted but rarely have not gotten what i needed. it time to end my opportunities to feel sorry for myself. it been far too long holding on to the convenience of feeling disadvantaged. i am grown woman. there really not much holding me back but myself these days.
on the walk home i passed the Baptist church with it front door open wide to let in the summer breeze while the choir practice to empty pews. I stopped for a while and stood by the open door just looking at the face of the joyous spiritual woman. they sang with such sincerity. i didn't feel like i was intruding , you cannot sing like that an not except to share it.
Its garbage day. outside the housing project someone had disguarded these wall panels of wall with amazing textured wall paper on them. Not once but twice i peeled a piece off in one whole piece. it was such a satisfying feeling. a simple pleasure. I don't know what i intend for these scraps but i am excited by there possibility.
Monday, August 25, 2008
MY LATEST CRUSH
these crushes are far more satisfying then any of my true life crushes. They are man of infinite possibility and will never stop my heart by saying thing like " i am dating other girls..." or " i am not interested in a girlfriend right now." I want to go the rest of my life never hearing those sentences again, i want all my girlfriends to ever go another day hearing a man say that, but i will, and they will. men say these things and act sick for saying it. girls hear them and each play their part in it. all are hurt but some are better then others at pretending they are better with it. i am a terrible actress, my eye are too big. even when slack i give away too much of my emotions. I never made a man cry.
300 Profile Veiws
I have a flickr account that as of today has had 4,363 veiws. Though this tally only counts the number of times when an image in one of my sets has been clicked. So 4,363 times someone has clicked on one of the 2, 613 photos i have posted on flickr to get a closer look at them.
my profile on blogger says my profile has been viewed over 300 times. It doesn't give a count of how many times a particular post has been read or how many readers a week you get. so for all i know 300 time someone has happen upon my blog, 300 time for all someone has actually read anything i wrote.
or maybe just one person keeps looking at my profile over and over again hoping to find new details in it.
on occasion the most random people confess to reading my blog. confess to being amused by some bit of it or intrigued by the openness of it at times. but to this day not one of the 300 has ever commented in writing on my blog.
Now i occasionally peek at other people i knows blogs, but most of them feel like filler. just filled space with very little personal refection or original content. there is a whole ring of people in LA from my college with tumbler.blogs which seem useless to me. they are just collages of tid bits from other peoples writing or things they found online. they are all linked to one another and seem to exist mainly so not to be the only one without a blog in their circle. they are shallow profiles, and say little about them as creative people. too bad because many of them are highly opinionated and at time humorous, seems a waste. a poor reflexion of their perspectives.
I wonder if people don't comment on my site because they believe it will inhibit my writing. i will be honest one time someone told me all about my blog and the reasons they liked it and i had difficulty writing in for a time after that. i had this sudden understanding of expectations. i kept starting and stopping posts, leaving saved versions of thing i never published. felt a responsibility to my readers, but i didn't know what that responsibility was. i mean it not exactly the Huffington Post i am putting together here, hell i am not even a Tucker MAx. I have no focus.
I write everyday, an hour everyday. either in a journal, here, or in long letter to friends. you'd think i would be a better writer for this dedication but i am highly inconsistent person by nature. so even when disciplined at something, there is this odd undisciplined quality to my work. I like to say i am organic, my art is organic, my writing is organic, like vines or roots in the earth you cannot expect it to develop in a set pattern or understanding. it just kind of grows and takes on a life of it own.
i do wish i had some feedback, an understanding of where these thoughts go, but perhaps i am taking for granted the mystery. the romantic idea boys i have crushes on secretly read my thought, or perhaps someone whom knew me once peripherally enjoys it from time to time and was inspired to write more themselves. reflex more on it all.
well can be worried with all that. i love the feeling a keys clicking. i love those rare moments where i get syntactic and grammar close to correct. i love the few sentence i make that get my thought right.
i learned long ago not to be too worried about what others think of you or else you'll never get anything done.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
YO LA TENGO IS FROM JERSEY?
Yo La Tengo one of those band name i recognize and whenever mentioned i would fake knowing there music so not to show how absolutely lame i am when it comes to knowing anything about current music.
I've heard them mentioned, perhaps even heard parts of their music in friends short films or on the Myspace pages of boys i had crushes on . But i had no idea who they were.
Actually , until today i didn't even know what they looked like and was surprised to see three unassuming looking white people over the age 30 take the stage at McCarren Pool. i didn't even know they weren't a Latin band. yes, make fun of me.
It was the last free concert of the summer and perhaps forever at McCarren Pool . Yo La Tengo headlined and were opened by 2 acts. The first was an amazing performance by Ebony Bones, a colorful verbose performer from the Uk backed by an equally colorful band and backup singers. she took the stage with her mix of African and punk rock influences and blended them into an energetic performance in the midday sun. While her audience lazily sat on free mats and baked in the cracking old pool, stripping away layers of clothing, some even in just bathing suits. She and her back up singers performed decked in the most amazing dresses made out of African fabrics paired with vibrant colored tights and they were not slowed down one bit. If the sun wasn't so oppressive at that time of day i don't doubt the audience would have been more active but i was my second bottle of water and i even though i loved her i could barely leave my spot on the cement.
Ebony was followed by a Jersey band,Titus Andronicus. Whom were very grateful to be sharing the stage soon to be played on by home state heroes Yo La Tengo but other then their lead singer commendable efforts at showmanship and rock energy i couldn't help feeling like i was watching a high school band. that lead singer did very much keep up an impressive amount of energy, at one point during a high energy song he took sissors to the scruff of his face and started cutting away bit and throwing them into the wind. i think he intended to give them to the audience but the wind just kept blowing the hair back behind him right into the drummers face.
For one song he invited his "partner" up on stage to sing with him. A lumpy awkward girl who looked like someone i was in band with get on a mike, he grabs her hand and raises her arm announcing " love concurs all". She was completely drowned out by the lead singers vocals. I don't even know if her mike was on.
Her arms were clenched to her sides as she moved her hip forwards to the beat trying but not coming any where near the psychotic and barely entertaining energy her boyfriend had. now to be fair, perhaps she she just an incredibly shy girl and love really did concur all. maybe love got her to take this huge leap out of her comfort zone and sing in front of a huge audience or strangers.
that actually would be very sweet and amazing. but sitting in the hot sun having just saw an amazing act and very eager to finanly understand who Yo La Tengo was, i was not in the most sensitive Judd Apatow appreciating moment.
When Yo La Tengo came on as i said, first i was struck by the fact they were not as multiracial, colorful, or hip looking as their first opening act. they indeed just looked like regular folks from Jersey. But then they played their first song.
And what tehy looked like or the thought of what musican for hip bands should look like feel out of my mind and hopefully forever.
I was taught an important lesson in artisty. In the truth of real musicans.
The first song it went on forever, first there were lyrics, but it was just the bassist and the drummer keeping the tempo and bass line going and going while the guitarist/ lead vocals would be overcome with these fits of rock godliness.
he was just whaling on his guitars, at first i didn't know if he was mad or frustrated or was having an epileptic fit while making this amazing wild sound. it went on for what felt like forever, at some point you couldn't ever try and dance or move to the music you could only spectate.
I felt this wild range of emotions while viewing this none assuming person transform into something musically godly. I was impressed obviously, but at moments a little overcome, scared even, jealous of course, and strangely a little sad.
You could feel it, the sound, perhaps it was just the crafty manipulation of the men behind the curtain, the sound booth making noise even more an entity. but you felt it, not meteorically but physically it hit you, pounded on my chest, beat on my heart, when i recognized this i grasped my chest and my friend beside me leaned over she asked me if i too could feel it there.
SOme songs you could almost feel it in your bowels. it reminded me of a Intro to Sound lesson where the professor insisted there was a frequency in music that when heard could cause people to lose control of their bowels. I remembered this and thought for a moment it was funny and then genuinely for a second worried this amazing physical connection i was feeling to sound could go too far.
I was fine as was the rest of the crowd, but you imagine. what event in music history. why hasn't anyone tried this before? how much much possibility is there to that happening? i am going to research this.
The three would mix it up, switch instruments with equal equity. this was a sign of true musician, person whom were really about the music and no one had the ego to claim any one spot in the glory of the sound.
This was the difference between good band and great one, perhaps it was age or just their character but either way it was something to respect.
I thought of my crush i knew he was and fan and now understood why, it seem now make me like him more in a moment i was most needing to not think of him with interest. the drama queen that i am this bitter sweet love lorn moment added to the amazingness of the the performance.
It was a great concert to bid farewell to the pool as a concert venue. Its of great controversy that they now intend to return the pool to being a pool. The debate between the locals has begun, the youth and gentrification culture vs. the local history. An argument being that as a free local swimming pool again a certain element, will bring the crime back to what it was when the it was a pool before. i find this to be an extremely demeaning and insulting view mainly argued but spoiled youth that has taking over the area driving the rent out range of the local community and causing it to be over come by the spill off of Williamsburg hipters. ok ok i cannto write my objection to this now...it wil be a long distrib about my opinion on hidden republicanism, spoiled youth culture masqurading as bohemians while living off mom and dad, thinly vailed racism.
bottom line YO LA TENGO rules....i am in awe and i feel as though i lived a life of Ramon noodles and now i have tasted ...uuuuuummmm amazing tasting noodles....lol.
Yo La Tengo did make a good point though about the lose of the pool, with one less free concert venue we will soon be making are way over the bridge and tunnels to Jersey more for concert. Which was just fine by them. They even contributed to the filling of the pool by each pouring a bottle into the pool. A display that only shows how loved they were by the audience since the concert was also a rally to fight the changing of the pool, and no one booed and showed any negative response to this action.
Also the concert had another amusing point when during the encore performance the band invited Titus Andronicus to play with them and the singer once again trying his best at showman ship some how always coming off like a crazy homeless person, draped the lead singer of Yo La Tengo with a flag of Jersey in the style of James Brown a the end of one his sets. I t was a an adorable show of Jersey pride.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Freaks go to Winter
I have long had an infatuation with life and history circus freaks. I know this isn't such a rare interest. I have met plenty of punky little boys and girls who like to read about the exploitive and oddly fascinating life of freak shows. BUt my interest isn't like slowing down to watch a train wreck. this interest is not a voyeuristic novelty. what really enamors me about freaks isn't a quirky need to find beauty in the grotesque i often find is what other "fans" are about. What most fascinates me about the human oddity is that for all the diversity of humanity, world cultures, cultural aesthetics, people are essentially... biological all the same. the same cookie cutter shape. whether your a fat American or a shapely Latina from south America or Nordic beauty. The Freak just doesn't fit the mold. they turn the idea of average on it side and show that though the human body is a simple well functioning machine it can work just as well without a piece here or there, or even with a few extra pieces.
A place i very much want to visit it the town of Gibsonton, Florida.
Gibsonton was famous as a sideshow wintering town, where various circus "freaks" would spend the off season. It is an unincorporated town with a population that was about 8,000 in the 2000 census.
I first discovered Gibsonton from an X-Files episode "Humbug."
Dean Koontz book Twilight Eyes featured a character who sought refuge in the circus community and came back to "Gibtown" with them.
Gibsonton is roughly 75 miles south of Disney World and 20 miles away from Tampa’s Busch Gardens.
Classic freak show performer founded the town. They would do shows all summer and then in the winter the alligator boy would work as the town sheriff while his wife the donkey girl answer the phones.
sure the legacy of the town interesting but really the normalcy of it all is what make me most want to go there. i know that it is will most likely be like most unincorporated towns in the south . A sad dilapidated place bordering on this absurd on how boring and backwood it can be. But Gibsonton calls to me. Its like my mecca...i must go there.
season close.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Mi-deo-deok (Warty sea squirt)
Pearl invited me to a night of home made Korean BBQ in Philadelphia . I cannot wait to make the trip to H-mart with her and find some strange delicacy to add to dinner. She was planning on trying to add Mi-deo-deok (Warty sea squirt)tot eh menu but unfortunately she couldn't find it fresh, only frozen. she has yet to come up with an appropriate or at all enticing description for what these creature tastes like so i don;t think i will miss them.
Here is how Masan City tourism guide describes them...
The Mi-deo-deok produced from clean waters of Kohyun village Jindong takes 70% of the national production. Its special taste, flavor, crunching, munching and champing taste is fabulous.
ooohhh yummmyyyyy
Alice, Sweet Alice
Alice, Sweet Alice starring Linda Miller, Jackie Gleason daughter and the mother to actor Jason Patric.
This movies been playing non stop on Show time lately and i am addicted to watching it. it so very over the top but observing from a cinematic perspective some of the shots and shot angle are actually quite fascinating. I am unsure where it was shot, but the locations play a large part in creating tension. there are many dutch angles and pans through industrial spaces. unusual choices in perspective that may have been typical of the time but sadly aren't used so much today in suspense.
i also love Linda Miller face, she has one of those odd adult child faces that are easily menacing. Brooke Shields plays her prettier little sister whom is killed early in the film.
It worth watching at least for the cinematography and the over the top 70's gore blood.
This movies been playing non stop on Show time lately and i am addicted to watching it. it so very over the top but observing from a cinematic perspective some of the shots and shot angle are actually quite fascinating. I am unsure where it was shot, but the locations play a large part in creating tension. there are many dutch angles and pans through industrial spaces. unusual choices in perspective that may have been typical of the time but sadly aren't used so much today in suspense.
i also love Linda Miller face, she has one of those odd adult child faces that are easily menacing. Brooke Shields plays her prettier little sister whom is killed early in the film.
It worth watching at least for the cinematography and the over the top 70's gore blood.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Animated Sex Guide
I was kind of a late bloomer and though i have many many far more sexual experience girlfriends to call on whenever i have any questions or concerns fomr time to time i consult outside sources, the internet is a tricky one because your very likely to get a little more then your asking for in terms of sexual "references". Looking up oral sex will more often get you some interesting videos more likely to scare you away from dick for a life time. Porn penis is ridiculous by the way, i mean what makes for interesting "cinematic cock" is not really so appealling to me in person. Mayeb i am a prude or just to "nice" a girl to be creaving such monster cock.
but anyways back to my "research". there are naturall things your curious about or insecure about in your own repetu and open fortethright friends do hlpe with such issues but sometime it helps to look to a publish professioanl.
also it can be really entertaining. Woman friendly sex advise sources are everywhere. Ivillage is a great one, Cosmo online and in print has random fun stuff to read, but my new fav is http://www.sexinfo101.com/.
mostly because it these funny animation that display various position and tecvhniques. they are not too explict. they are not intended to arouse like cartoon porn but they merely display the position breifly driscribed below. the names of various position are also pretty priceless.
Game's On, the Suplex , Southern exposure, the usual, etc.
I loved Sophia
Estelle Getty has passed away.
The legendary actress died today in her Los Angeles home at 5:35 A.M.
She was 84.
While this is truly sad news, we must be comforted to know that she is in a better place now.
The Golden Girl had been very sick recently and had been fighting dementia for years.
The legendary actress died today in her Los Angeles home at 5:35 A.M.
She was 84.
While this is truly sad news, we must be comforted to know that she is in a better place now.
The Golden Girl had been very sick recently and had been fighting dementia for years.
Monday, July 21, 2008
I visited Amma
Amma was at eh Manhattan center last week. i stood in a line running around the block to get i thought just hug. but i ended up getting sucked into a 2 hour meditation session followed by live music and a vegan meal prepared by her followers from her ashram. it took 3 hours from there to make my way up to Amma though line after line of devotee to get what was a pretty amazing hug. here this woman must have just hugged 300 people before me and probably almost a thousand people the 3 days she'd been here and still her hug was still going strong. she attacked me with the force of his good will with this bear like clasp pulling me into her flowered bosom for a good 20 second count while whispering blessings to me in hindi. after the hug i was asked if i wanted to paticpate in a mantra. I'd been there so long already i said why not. i was asked to join one of the groups sitting in circles of folding chairs behind the stage. each group of 5 or 6 was lead by a devotee whom explained the master/guru system and asked if we already had a guru and felt conflicted excepting Amma as our guru. she explained the commitment it required to repeat our mantra daily and hold a picture of amma if we can and give blessing to her and know that she does the same every day towards us.
the level of commitment i felt from the group varied. ONe either side of me sat guys with strong commitment and interest in spirituality, one was an earnest prematurely balding Indian guy, maybe about 23yrs old but his head made him look older.
the other guy was a kind of Hispanic hipster i think i know from somewhere but cannot place. he had an amazing mouth full of braces you couldn't help but notice because he had the biggest friendliest smile on his face all the time.
they both asked the most thoughtful question of the group and seem most educated about gurus.
the other two people in the group were a pair of girlfriends,i guess were either from Jersey shore or long island. every townie feel about them mixed with a upper middle class sense of entitlement. one was decked out in Indian garb, she had wrist chimes on both wrist which seem too much. when ever i saw Indian woman wear the same thing they usually wore just one. but white people have a habit of overdoing it when they try to dress in other cultures tradition wear.
she reminded me of a aunt i had who would go to Chinese restaurants in a strip mall wearing a silk Chinese dress she got in china town Boston. a bit much for the occasion.
her friend wasn't dressed much more appropriately but as least she was being herself. she has a mini denim skirt and spandex top better set for a club. she was quiet and timidly lost in this experience. i guess her friend must have dragged her along.
I agree to take my mantra and by doing so i agree to expect Amma into my heart, i sat by her feet for a some time then again entered another line to hear my mantra. i was sat by her as she hugged person after person, while her attendant took the pins from my hair for Amma wouldn't hurt herself embracing me. when it came my turn again she warmly but with disarming strength embraced my face and put my face to her bosom and whispered my mantra to me. then just a quickly she released me, a devotee slipped a piece of paper with my mantra written on it for me and i was swept away to another group to explain the meaning of my mantra.
Tearing the Veil of Maya
We went to the 2 year anniversary of the Union Hall comedy show Tearing the Veil of Maya, hosted by Eugene Mirman and Micheal Showwalter.
Eugene told a story about his experiences with Delta Air losing his luggage ...so unhappy with their service he handed out these post cards asking people to sign and mail them to Delta on his behalf.
before i mail it i thought i'd share it.
Eugene told a story about his experiences with Delta Air losing his luggage ...so unhappy with their service he handed out these post cards asking people to sign and mail them to Delta on his behalf.
before i mail it i thought i'd share it.
Pate = Dog Food
I tried Pate this weekend and not only does it look like dog food it also tastes like it. i mean high end dog food...a nice pedigree but for the dogs no less.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
I am famous in France
A girl whom went i to college with was recently in Paris and she saw ads all over the metro with images of mine and Greg Lesar faces. She took a quick video but the name of the company is hard to read.
The pictures were taken by Bob Jones a photographer we both know from SCAD. Greg is a popular subject of Bobs , a year ago another scaddy spotted him in a billboard in Rome , for an ad using Bob stock photography.
Bob took my picture upon request of a friend whom wanted him to photograph us as superheros. i wasn't feeling confident enough to put on tights for a guy i didn't know at the time.
but i feel really cool about this strange happening. never thought i had a commercial enough look for any one to use in advertisements. in fact from the set he sent me from he shoot i thought my friend looked so much prettier and easier to photo graph then my awkward face.
My mom is shitting herself over it all. she is so supportive she would be just as happy if i found a dollar in the street. but bob is her new favorite person.
thing is for all his talent, Bob gets maybe $15 off a picture like that. Here he is , his work being used for this expensive campaign, and where his commission or credit for his work.
He wouldn't have even known his work was being used for anything like this if it had not been for this incredibly random connection to someone from our college.
I don't know what the ad is for. I am hoping it is something embarrassingly inappropriate....like herpes meds.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Coming home today
I got off the subway at Spring Street. Took a walk through SoHo to the Indi Theater on
Walking back from the theater, disappointed by the choices. I can’t wit till next week’s releases. A film I set dressed last summer was picked up at Sundance and has been getting great press for it young leads and amazing soundtrack.
I stopped at a patisserie where a fey young black pastry chef talked my into an orange brioche and a dark chocolate torte with a caramel crisp center topped with pine nuts. A few steps out the door a dirty tattoo young guy sat pathetically on the sidewalk asking for change. I said I had none and walked by only to reconsider and turned and offer him the brioche.
There was no way he was getting my torte. He accepted it without making eye contact and gave a sheepish half heart thanks.
I checked out one of my favorite soho stores Evolution. Thought about investing in starting a cabinet of oddities. I eyed scorpions and colorful beetle in glass vile, fossils, and monkey paws all under $20. I decided to wait till fall and maybe build my own cabinet.
I walked past my old employer building. A crazy Israeli artist who placed a suspicious village voice ad for an artist assistant and despite my instinct responded to. It was a fine job, easy money photoshoping unoriginal photos he took around
Got paid under the table and spent most of my time in his studio space/ apartment dodging his random bunch of hanger ons and noxious personal hippie assistant whom all wanted to share their life story despite my obvious disinterest.
One of the things I liked most about the job was walking through his neighborhood and the pleasant smells that I would pass on the way to his apartment. The high end coffee shop, the patisserie, and the amazing soap shop feet from his grungy door way. I liked how the pleasant smell of what ever soap of the day was being hand made in the shop juxtaposed the pissed stained door to his building and constant guard of sad bearded homeless person sitting by it with out stretch hand.
On the subway I sat by a young lesbian couple sporting rainbow wrist bands and anklets. Today was the guy pride parade. They dressed sporty and were both natural pretty.
An absurdly large family sat on the end of the train car. There was a load mid western looking man with a very blonde child on his lap and about 10 other Scandinavian looking children ranging in ages surrounding him. They seemed mid western and I wondered if they were Mormons. They kids were half sullen and the other half obnoxiously engaging. I was glad I was not sitting closer to them. Happy to be by the loving lesbians.
I wondered what these two worlds may have thought of one another. Everyone one eyed the large family with suspension. They were so out of place, I think a Muslim man would have gone little noticed next to them. The lesbians got off at the next stop and I could see the older kids eyeing them and whispering while their parents fain disinterest.
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