Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

The Cure - A Forest (Live 1992)

Pet the Pet Rat

Pet the pet rat as it negotiates the contours of your lap.  Touch the bald tail.  Let it bite and bring blood.  The smell of live rat.  There's nothing quite like it.

Saturday, August 13, 2016

The Obed River

I met you at the bottom of the river, just north of the Lilly Bridge, where the giggling currents calm down and get as quiet as glass over the deep hole, where the ice-water pauses before spilling out the other end.  I met you there and we went underwater.

We'll meet again and swim like two fishes.  I'll meet you at the bottom where the river water gets thick and presses like vices.  I'll call out for you from the thick of the river, where we'll touch the sandy bottom again and harvest handfuls of sediment to prove to the others, whoever they are, that we descended to the bottom of the river, where we met that day.  I'll see you there.

Sunday, July 24, 2016

Lassie come home - Alphaville



Good Anti-Depression Music.

Alphaville - Jean-Luc Godard



"Away, away, says hate."

Horses in the Ocean

Horsey in the ocean
Sweet and simultaneous souring
Ambivalence that
Loves to Hate and
Hates to Love
Chest high shallow
Ankle deep drowning
Allow the opposites
To compete, like Marx promised.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

The Big Short - An Important Film


The Big Short is not only important from cultural and economic angles, but it's also entirely entertaining, front to back, and cast with very talented actors who discharged their respective roles admirably.  Christian Bale and Steve Carell were especially well-prepared and entirely convincing.  This thing is great, with one exception -- the chick in the bubble bath was silly. 

Saturday, May 28, 2016

You Wreck Me - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers



Listen carefully to the cadence in his voice.  He actually creates extra syllables from mono-syllablic lyrics. His voice has aged beautifully.  Outstanding.

Sunday, April 3, 2016

Curtis Caughorn


I first met Curtis Caughorn as I was walking from my Henry Street office to the Java Garden to get a cup of coffee.  I realized that he was probably affected in some way by life's crueler elements, but could see, right away, that he was harmless.  Turns out, I was right on both counts.  So, I invited this stranger to accompany me for coffee. He would become a beloved character in my sparsely occupied heart of hearts.

Curtis used to sit outside the Henry Street AA meeting room and smoke.  My office was directly across the street, so when I pulled in to my parking space and saw him sitting there, his back turned to me, I would sneak up behind him and attempt to assassinate him with my make believe finger pistol.   







Sunday, February 21, 2016

The Witch - A Critique of a Truly A VV F U L Film


I was in Nashville on Friday and read a glowing review of The VVitch.  The review appeared in Scene magazine, which heralded the film to be a "masterpiece."  Relying upon that review I saw the film the following Sunday.  But, after suffering about an hour and a half through the movie, I walked out, leaving the two remaining movie-goers to absorb the balance of this truly awful film.  It was that bad.

I really don't know where to start.  The dialogue between the characters took on a fifteenth century vernacular that could not be fully understood without subtitles.  The characters, the parents and their five children, (four after the baby got eaten) looked so squeaky clean that they might have been blasted with a pressure washer.  The father incurred an accident where a musket rifle exploded in his face, yet he sustained no visible injury when he got home.  The protagonist, whose name I never understood, fell from her horse to a soft bed of pine needle litter and emerged hours later from a phony unconsciousness with absolutely no evidence of an injury of any kind.  She may have looked even better the she did before the fall.  The firewood that the father chopped into kindling was of uniform length, clearly cut with a modern-day chainsaw.  The boards nailed to the stable where the devil (a goat), resided, were milled.  The dial on the mantle clock was a cheap, Asian outsourced knock off that can be purchased for $20.00 at VValMart, and probably was. 

About the only redeeming aspect contained in this flop was its exposure of the nonsensical practice of religion.  Nowadays, you can get plenty of that type of observation for free by simply unfolding a laptop and sitting down in your recliner with a coke that doesn't cost you $12.50.

The only thing that was missing was a jet flying over the hovel-like structure that served as a house for the characters.  Ironically, the acting wasn't that bad.  It's just that everything else was.  Admittedly, I didn't see the movie through to its end.  It's like this -- even if the ending rivaled One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, it wouldn't have resurrected the rest.  The VVitch was dead on arrival.  I would add an anthropomorphic tattoo on the forehead of this dead body of directorial malpractice, imploring the viewing public -- "Do Not Resuscitate!"

The VVitch was a total bitch to endure.  I suggest that you don't.



Thursday, February 4, 2016

Monday, January 11, 2016

David Bowie - Died Yesterday



"A puzzeled man who questioned what we were here for."

Maybe now there's life on Mars.  If our purpose on earth is to prepare the table for successive generations to come, while leaving as light a toxic footprint as possible, then David Bowie has done very well by me.  His clarion wafts, rising with so gentle a voice, and so wide a musical berth, guarantee his immortality.  He's one of the greatest musical artists who has ever lived on this planet.  Peace, David.

P.S. My daughter and I cried for you this morning when we heard the news.  I'm going to play your music all day long.

Saturday, January 2, 2016

William F. Buckley on Death


Buckley (who was a rightwing zealot) commented once about the office of "conservatism and realism."  The "realism" half of this intellectual haircut emerges here, as he tends toward the conclusion that secular progressives have long held -- that this life has no meaning whatsoever.