Adonis Capote's Olympus playground

adoniscapote @ 2005-10-19T03:23:00

2005-10-19T08:38:25Z

Alright...with the exception of one human being, this isn't going to make sense to anyone reading this journal; but as a promise, here ya go Geoff:

1. I'll respond with something random about you.

Inside and out, you're the most beautiful human being I've ever met.

2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.

"Playtime," or any episode of Buffy, circa 6th season.

3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.

Tastes like strawberries...

4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.

Had we but world enough, and time;
This coyness lady, would be no crime.

5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.

Seeing you come out to greet me in ripped jeans, being unabashedly shy and awkward.

6. I'll tell you the one place in the world I want to go with you to.

On a park bench in Paris; we're eating ice cream, you putting your head on my shoulders.

7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.

I want to know if you're purely, completely happy...because you deserve to be.

8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal [if you have one]. You MUST. It is
written.

The Dark Side is wise....

2005-05-26T18:42:50Z

Go ahead and click...you know you want to: Ask Lord Vader

My Summer Reading List

2005-05-04T16:55:17Z

Mark my words, this will be THE must-have book of the summer:

You know you want to click...

well, DUH...

2005-05-04T02:27:07Z

You scored as Cultural Creative. Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational.

</td>

Cultural Creative

94%

Postmodernist

69%

Existentialist

63%

Materialist

63%

Romanticist

56%

Idealist

50%

Modernist

44%

Fundamentalist

38%

What is Your World View?
created with QuizFarm.com

Idea...?

2005-04-02T19:36:09Z

I say we stick a feeding tube in his ass and keep him alive for another 15 years...whaddya say people??

To be fair...

2005-03-15T18:18:58Z

This is a call to help protect the sacred institution of marriage.

However, rather than selectively vilifying gays, wouldn't it be more appropriate to discriminate against everyone who doesn't comply with Biblical marriage requirements? In so doing the following Amendments would have to be included:

-No state may sanction marriage between a man and a woman who was married previously but has since divorced. (Matthew 5:32)

-No state may sanction marriage involving a widow (unless it is to her brother-in-law. All women whose husbands have passed away will refrain from intimacy and pleasure for the remainder of their lives. (1 Timothy 5:5-15)

-No state may sanction marriage between people of different races. (Deuteronomy 7:3; Numbers 25:6-8; 36:3-9; 1 Kings 11:2; Ezra 9:2; Nehemiah 13:25-27)

-No state may sanction marriage between a Christian and a non-Christian (2 John 1:9-11; 2 Corinthians 6:14-17)

-No state may sanction marriage between a man and any woman unwilling to promise in her wedding vows to obey her husband and submit to his every whim (Ephesians 5:22-24; 1 Corinthians 11:3; Colossions 3:18; 1 Timothy 2:11-12; Titus 2:3, 5; 1 Peter 3:1)

Let's all do our part and write to our local congressman or senator, to stop activist judges from destroying the very fabric of our society. Thanks!!

GAME TIME!!!

2005-02-04T22:39:54Z

Can you guess the MYSTERY SPEAKER who uttered these words at the State of the Union address??:

"Our second great responsibility to our children and grandchildren is to honor and to pass along the values that sustain a free society. So many of my generation, after a long journey, have come home to family and faith, and are determined to bring up responsible, moral children (not homosexuals like Mary Cheney). Government is not the source of these values, but government should never undermine them.

Because marriage is a sacred institution and the foundation of society, it should not be re-defined by activist judges. For the good of families, children, and society, I support a constitutional amendment to protect the institution of marriage."

So, after telling an entire minority class of American gays and lesbians that they're immoral and basically not aligned with families, children, or society in general, the MYSTERY SPEAKER has the gall to segue into the next section of his speech (on medical research) with the sentence:

"Because a society is measured by how it treats the weak and vulnerable..."

And follow it a few moments later with...

"Because one of the deepest values of our country is compassion, we must never turn away from any citizen who feels isolated from the opportunities of America."

Except, of course, if you're a homosexual. SO....any guesses on who the MYSTERY SPEAKER is? If you answered the Greatest Fuckwad This Earth Has Ever Known, YOU'RE CORRECT!!!!

T.O.T.M. Club

2005-02-04T21:30:37Z

Yesterday I called in sick to work, not because I was sick in the sense of being ill, but just sick of coming into a temp job in which I don’t really do anything (the other day I went to the bookstore on my lunch break just so I could get something to read, as to not fall asleep at my desk: Palahniuk’s “Diary.”)…and I had quite a few errands I’ve been putting off, so I spent a nice, relaxing day doing…not a whole lot.

I come back into work this morning, and the president of my temp agency comes into the door asking where I was. I told her that she was, indeed, speaking to me, and she then extends her hand for me to shake. Meg (we’re on a first name basis now) proceeds to inform me that I was selected as Temp Of The Month…she congratulates me, hands me a crisp clean 50 dollar gift certificate to Lettuce Entertain You, and a box of Duncan Donuts for our whole department. So there I was, not 5 seconds earlier minimizing my webpage so people walking by would not be aware that I wasn’t doing anything, my copy of “Diary” shoved in my top drawer, and I get an award for Temp Of The Month. Hysterical. As I was thanking her, she goes, “Has anyone ever told you you look like Jude Law? It’s uncanny. You should really milk it for all it’s worth,” Meg says.

“Believe me, I’m trying.”

So after that, I find out they’re finally hiring me on full time at the Y starting the 14th. Elated, I then go online to buy things at SuperHappyFun!, which is a great site that sells unreleased and other region DVDs for like 13 bucks, all region 0. I went ahead and bought the Star Wars Holiday Special, Larry Clark’s unreleased-in-the-US “Ken Park,” and “Salo: 120 Days of Sodom.”

Things are therefore pretty good...going on a 2nd date with the "Closer" guy tonight (I figure, if we don't go to anymore movies, I'll give him a 2nd chance) to Bin 36. No concrete plans for the weekend, so I fully intend to catch up on movies and perhaps even a drunken escapade or two.

Take THAT, rewind it back...

2005-01-31T20:59:49Z

This is what I hate when I’m sitting in the theater watching a movie. Here it comes, and please listen to it so I never again have to repeat it to you when we’re in the dark together sharing a communal experience, preferably in silence…

We’re engaged in what’s happening on the screen, and then as SOON as the first poor little credit even THINKS about being projected through light, my companion turns to me and in a loud, Hey Everyone Listen To Me tone asks, “Well what did you think I thought it wassooooolameImeanmyGodIcould’vestayedathomeandwatchedsomecraponTVlikeAmericanIdolwhichwouldhavebeenmoreinterestingthanthatohmyGodblah blah blah.”

Now maybe what I’m about to say makes me a real jerk, but ya know what? When I’m in a movie theater, I want you to shut the fuck up. Once the movie is totally over, and the credits have rolled for…oh, I don’t know…six or seven SECONDS or something, and people start to get up and walk out, THEN you can start plugging me for what I thought about it. And please, if you MUST go on and on about what you thought, at least do it in a conversational tone, and not a few decibels higher with the intent purpose of having others be able to hear your incessant, idiotic critiques.

What is the purpose of that? Is it to let others know what you thought? It must be. Logic stands up from his chair and demands this much. Well, if that is indeed the case, wouldn’t you want to at least gather and formulate your opinions BEFORE going off on a tirade, proclaiming your cultural ignorance for your fellow movie-goers as they parade out the door?

There are a few stipulations to this rule: anything by Lars Von Trier can be put on the gallows and hung the second it ends; the same with the latest flower garden from Gaspar Noe. But unless you fall into one of these two categories, you should take the advice of Julianne Moore to the doctor in Magnolia and “you reeeeeeeeeeeeeally have to shutthefuckup.”

Why do I go off on this? WELL, I’m on a 1st date with this guy and we go to see “Closer,” (I know, I know, I know…) and the SECOND it ends, he turns to me and says, LOUDly, “I totally need to do that to somebody,” eliciting agreeing, hearty guffaws from the aging queens sitting behind us. This seemed to egg my date on, and he actually got up and starting having an after-movie bitch fest with these guys. The other people in the theater just sort of evaded their eyes from him as they scuffled out of the theater, but I had no such luck…I had to walk out with him.

As we walk out of the theater he’s like, “Are you okay? You look kind of freaked out.” I just erred on the side of exasperation and replied, “No, I’m just trying to absorb what I just saw.” Which really wasn’t too far from the truth…isn’t that what most people do? Walk out of the theater, perhaps talking about their initial reactions, but save the detailed critique for after they’ve thought about it a little while, probably at dinner afterwards?

I guess this snobby, elitist attitude of mine is the reason I still have to GO on first dates. But ya know what? I’d rather be single for the rest of my days than be forced to go to a movie with a loud, obnoxious moron.

SHMACKdown.

whew

2005-01-07T16:31:02Z

Christmas, along with the family it brought over from Germany, is over…and to that I say, thank G__. Nice to spend time with the fam, but in the same house for 2 weeks? I’m thinkin’ no. Not a second to myself in 14 days, most of them filled with having to entertain spoiled (albeit semi-cool) cousins tending to their every whim really takes it out of one. Thankfully the eldest cousin (15yo) is the biggest queen this side of the Atlantic, so simply taking him shopping was enough to satisfy HIS urges. Surprising what one learns from one when you’re living with them closely…not only does my eldest cousin tend to a budding cigarette addiction, but my sister and I also suspect bulimia in the wings…now, let’s look at the other maladies I’ve had to contend with as of late:

A___, the guy I was seeing not too long ago, just called me up and told me he’s got colon cancer. Twenty years old, by the way. Taking it surprisingly well, considering all the other crap he’s had to go through, and I’m sure he’ll be fine. Still, kinda nuts…

Welp, that’s the only other malady I can think of, but the Xmas break did also see my mother confronting me as to why I refuse from here on out to set foot in a church, and when I explained the reason (that conversation I had with my father pre-election) she proclaimed ignorance and genuine surprise (even though she was in the room during said conversation). She “talked” (ie: yelled) at my father after that, and he then told her how horrible he felt for saying his piece during that very eye-opening day. To apologize to me, instead of actually outright saying something like “I’m a big fool,” he’s been ridiculously nice and has been going out of his way to…well, you know how people are when they can’t express their feelings verbally and must resort to the standard crap of just being a little “too nice” around the person whose very presence turns on the guilt. Welp, that’s been the case around our house for the past week.

Hmm…what else….

I think I’m going to go on full time at this temp place (YMCA of the USA) because it’ll be a lot more money that I’m making now, which is sorely needed as I prepare to start taking those prerequisites for the Masters. I’ve become so incredibly fed-up with talking to admissions advisors who obviously have never advised anyone needing undergrad classes for grad school that you have no idea. Been reading a lot of stuff in preparation for those classes though…finished The Divine Comedy, Macbeth, and am now barreling through Paradise Lost. You get a lot of reading done over here at the YMCA, or at least temps do that work the front desk whilst the receptionist is on vacation and now sick leave.

You also get a lot of time to play around online, and I must thank rollick for giving me the superb idea of joining Blockbuster’s online DVD rental thing for their 2-week trail period, then canceling…leading them to attempt to gain my loyalty by enticing me with another free month. That along with Netflix, the one I am truly loyal to, has kept me so indoors watching movies that there are like 12 things in the theater that I have upgraded to “NEED to see” status.

So, with adding things to my online queues and scouring myspace and friendster for potential mack-daddies (4 this weekend alone) I’ve been busy. Seeing the show Matt’s stage managing (The Glass Menagerie) this weekend, along with Mark’s bday stuff and then meetin’ the gals for The Tasting Room on Monday. Should be pretty chill…

Jan 16, 1933 - Dec 28, 2004

2004-12-29T16:06:38Z

Okay, so this WON'T be a COMPLETELY locked out journal. Work gets awfully tedious at times, and everyone needs their outlet, as it were...

Plus the death of Sontag yesterday put me in a reflexive mood, which is mightily feeble of me considering the tsunami death toll count is currently up to 76,700 and growing. She herself would probably sit me down and expound upon how my present state just exemplifies her theory on how images of war and disaster desensitize the viewer, and that it's important to think and know that 76,700 people are not dead; one person died 76,700 times.

Everything is horribly, horribly sad.

New York Times Obituary

Bill Moyers interviews Susan Sontag

Notes on Camp by Susan Sontag

Audio Interview with Susan Sontag

Fascinating Fascism: Susan Sontag on The Last of the Nuba by Leni Riefenstahl and Jack Pia's SS Regalia

Against photography: Susan Sontag and the violent image by Sue Sorensen

A Rigorous Intellectual Dressed in Glamour by CHARLES McGRATH

My Wednesday Evening with LINKS!!

2004-09-16T15:49:42Z

If there is indeed an upside to having a job in which one does pretty much nothing a good 70% of the day, it’s the fact that you can get all your web-reading\emailing\personal stuff done on a regular basis. Nonetheless, it gets a bit monotonous at times, and I was thinking about that very fact yesterday after work as I was on lake shore drive stuck in traffic on a busy afternoon. This thought struck me right as the SUV I could see in my rear view mirror struck me from behind. It was just hard enough to cause a little jolt, and I couldn’t help but thinking about that Sex and the City episode in which the girls are gabbering on in the back of a taxi as to how anal sex would feel like, when their cab is Freudian-slipped from behind as well. I sort of smiled for the first second, and then looked again in my rear view mirror to see the woman driving the SUV get obviously quite upset about the whole thing.

I was now “That Guy Who Gets Out Of His Car To Inspect His Damage In The Middle Of Rush Hour Traffic,” and I must say I was conscious of this the whole time. The woman (Debbie) got out of her mammoth tank of an automobile and immediately began the apologies as I looked at my scraped-up bumper. She blabbered on about how she hit her breaks to avoid hitting someone else, and I’m thinking to myself, “We’re in gridlock lady. What were you swerving to avoid? A mirage??”

Anyway, after telling her it wasn’t that big a deal, she seemed to calm down a bit and offered me her business card, “just in case.” I graciously accepted it, and she went on apologizing saying that her cell # was on the card as well, and to not hesitate to call. Yeah, yeah sure was my response, and I got in my car to continue crawling in traffic.

So I’m driving off and thinking about this great website Grant forwarded to me, which is Kenston High School’s official site where you can watch files of their boys’ sports teams conducting their various meets. Brian Baumgartner has to be my favorite swim team member by far, and I must silently thank the good, ignorant people of Chagrin Falls, OH for putting up a site that is undoubtedly a gay man’s dream. Don’t take my word for it: meet Brian yourself:

Swim Team Brian

Be sure to do some exploring amongst the wrestling team. Yowsa.

Anyway, I’m thinking about this site and noticing that Debbie is still behind me when, and I’m not kidding here, she rear-ends me AGAIN. I look at her from my mirror again, this time a little bit more aggravated, and she’s throwing her arms up in hysterics, no doubt cursing herself. I pick up her card, and dial her # from my cell. I see her pick up from my mirror.

“Debbie?” I ask politely and calmly.

“Yeah?” she replies completely frazzled.

“This is the car you just rear-ended twice.”

“OHMYGODI’msosorry!!”

I continued along quite cool and collected. “Debbie? You HAVE to pay more attention here.”

“I know I know, I don’t know what my problem is today I’msosorryyouhavenoidea.”

“It’s okay. I’m going to hang up now, and I sincerely hope I don’t have to make this call again.”

She apologizes 6-fold and then I hang up. This most recent strike against my back bumper was even softer than the last one, so I didn’t think it necessary to go out again and take a look at the damage.

So I continue to drive along, trying to get my mind off this. I think again of more linked website pictures, and these sprung to mind:

TENNIS FANS ONLY:

Andy

Andy Too

Fake? Real? You decide. All I can say is I was cheered up immensely.

The Anals of Pharmacotherapy

2004-08-19T01:18:36Z

I started my new temp job at Bacon’s Information Inc. this past Monday. Bacon’s, in a nutshell, is a media database corporation which compiles and publishes a catalog which lists every single magazine, website, and newspaper in the country. My job is to call every magazine in the country and make sure that all the people that are on “the list” are still employed by each magazine, and if not, to delete them, thereby updating the database. In terms of boredom, this job has it in spades…so, I spend most of my time on the internet trying to get a copy of the Star Wars Holiday Special, which is beginning to enjoy a brief, ever-so-underground resurgence. Aside from that, the only thing that kind of shook up the monotony today was when I mispronounced “annals” when attempting to say the name of some poor guy’s publication.

The people that work at this company are, and I’m not exaggerating here, the certified living dead. As I left the building (332 S. Mich Ave…at least the location is right) on one of my numerous breaks today, I ran into a nice gal who happens to work in the same office as I, and I approached her as she lit her second cigarette. We chatted briefly about how unbelievably creepy the vibe of this place is…no one talks, everyone just goes about their business looking solemn, and if they do have to walk out of their cubicles for a brief moment, their heads stay down to avoid all eye-contact.

“How long have you been working here?” I asked Erica.

“Six months. Six long, fuckin, months,” answered Erica.

“Wow. Has it always been so…”

“Uh-huh,” she retorted, taking a long drag off her cigarette. “A friend of mine used to work here, Lawanda, she went nuts one day. Just couldn’t take it.”

“What happened?” I asked, genuinely interested.

“Pulled a knife on Diana.” (the manager)

“No shit,” I said in a matter-of-fact voice, just staring across the street at all the kids getting soaked under the glass towers of Millennium Park.

“Yup. Took her ass OUT.”

Erica dropped her cigarette to the floor and ground it with her shoe. “See you inside.”

“See ya,” I said, as I watched her enter the building, looking defeated. I’m not going to shit ya…I almost walked right then and there. But, I kind of need the money, and since Lawanda is probably spendin’ time in Cook County, I’m probably in good shape. At least now I know why everyone is a bit on the jittery side.

On the upside to this job, I was able to search out and get the emails as well as direct numbers to a whole SLEW of people I’d probably call one night during or in between the 8th or 9th drink…Graydon Carter, Dominick Dunne (whom I loathe), David Denby and the bitches at Vogue magazine. If anyone wants the number to anyone working in magazine publishing, just gimme the name of the mag as well as the full name of your intended.

Please. Give me something to do.

Ramblers, Let’s get Ramblin’

2004-08-15T18:10:25Z

In one whole month, I was only able to rent 10 flicks from that whole Facets deal…kind of paltry, I know.

Pistol Opera
Suicide Club
Spellbound (Hitchcock)
Freaks
Brief Crossing
Dracula: Pages From a Virgin’s Diary
8 1\2 Women
Sick: The Life and Death of Bob Flannagan
Salo: 120 Days of Sodom
Once Upon a Time in the West

Not much of a chance to see a slew of others; my temp agency called and got me another assignment starting tomorrow…so whilst I’m whiling away 40 hours a week at some (most likely) mind-numbing office job, I’ve got to get this whole school situation squared away. Reading a lot of Bukowski. Saw the first 2 flicks from the Burtolucci retrospective, “The Grim Reaper” and “Before the Revolution.” Bored me to absolute tears. Made me think of “Strangers in Paradise” and how that’s so much more the superior first effort…made me want to watch it again. Going to start “Heart of Darkness” after all this poetry; then probably some Shakespeare to bone up for the inevitable classes. Went to a party this weekend…weak, weak, weak although saw a boy I lusted after a long time ago and it made me wish I…I’m not sure…

The sounds of the rigid German language permeate through my window as my mother converses with her niece outside. I really want to finish those 2 shorts I shot forever ago…my DP is no longer moving to LA, so I’ve got lots of free equipment to use whenever and however I see fit. Narratives are killin’ me…I should do a doc next. My erstwhile best friend IMs me today talking about nothing, which is the exact opposite of what he needs to talk about. Unaware and oblivious. Pointless anyway. Mom just came into my room saying that more cousins are getting married in Germany next year…with student loans I won’t be able to buy toilet paper, let alone a plane ticket. Exaggerations are fun. Working tomorrow is not.

One more chance...

2004-08-11T16:13:45Z

A more detailed and lively post is undoubtedly on its way, concerning betrayals, lust, and above all else, lots of human misery. But to tide everyone over until then, I came across this little ditty whilst idling the hours away on Amazon.com. Some guy has put up The “Kill Bill” Checklist , and I must say, even though these Volume 1 and 2 movies left quite a bit to be desired in me, after viewing all the titles in this list I’m sure I’d appreciate the effort a heck of a lot more…

Welp, I normally don't get into it, but....

2004-08-05T17:16:09Z

Would anyone want to bang you? by phobia
Name:
Favorite Food:
Wants to Bang you:
This many times:	109

Quiz created with MemeGen!

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdgnieg

2004-07-29T18:46:33Z

THE PAOMNNEHAL PWEOR OF THE HMUAN MNID

Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

Amzanig huh?

The day I stop slacking: Tomorrow

2004-07-26T18:45:29Z

So here’s how I’ve spent my past month of “taking a break” from work: Engaged in a massive quest to find someone datable. Began the arduous process of applying for grad school. Saw some movies. Didn’t write hardly anything. Got my wits about me and enjoyed some summer “downtime.”

---“Engaged in a massive quest to find someone datable.”---

Well, “massive” would probably be an example of hyperbole, but nonetheless I HAVE been putting the feelers out there, which is more than I can say of my usual behavior and attitude. So what hath this wrought me? One guy, we’ll call him C, is:
-Almost grotesquely perfect in terms of attractiveness.
-Incredible amount of life experience and travel accomplished at the relatively young age of 23.
-Complex character attributes and thought process.
-Occupation: Former Minister of the Clergy, currently a model.
-Prospects for future happiness: null and void.
Let me explain the last PowerPoint slash: He’s a Libertarian. I have never known, in my entire existence, a group of people to have (if this one is any indication) a more fucked-up way of viewing the world. I actually was able to get out of him that the world would be better off if every single country and landmass on planet Earth was a part of America. And how do we make that happen? Go to war with every single country until they submit. I’m not kidding, this is what I eventually got him to say.

In the other corner we’ve got J:
-Incredibly sweet in a “I’ve spent my entire life in Michigan City, IN. and have now moved to the big city” sort of way.
-Adorable smile and a laugh that makes me do the same.
-Incredibly open and willing to do and see anything new.
-Occupation: sales manager for a major stereo company.
-Prospects for future happiness: 83 out of 100.
Not bad…not bad at all…

But ya know something incredibly sad? About a month ago I met this Y-O-U-N-G boy from a place in Illinois that can boast, as it’s only cultural significance, a place where corn grows to the very tip of the heavens, and we spent a day together. In less than 12 hours time with him, I can conclude that even out of these two “Best Of-s,” I’d probably, in a perfect world, pick him. Le sigh.

---“Began the arduous process of applying for grad school.”---

Master of Arts in Teaching is the goal, concentrating on English Lit for secondary students. Perfect I’d think…enough to get my feet wet before going off for a Doctorate to teach college, and summers off to work on film stuff. Win-Win situation. Now I have to take these 2 tests before I can officially apply and be accepted, so now I must study up to do them: my first exams in like 6 years…. *shudder*

---“Saw some movies.”---

Thanks to the great organization known as Facets Cinemateque, I can rent all the DVDs I want for a mere 20 dollars a month, as well as get 2 free tickets to any program they screen in their theater. So far I’ve utilized it for “The Corporation,” and intend to catch the entire Bertolucci retrospective next month…in the meantime, I’ve embarked on a quest to rent at least 20 movies each month, to get an average sale price of a mere, single dollar per rental. A thus-far list follows:

Bonhoeffer
In My Skin
Le Cercle Rouge
Stone Reader
Trouble In Paradise
The Shop Around the Corner
Vistor Q
Branded to Kill
Giacometti
Noam Chomsky: Power and Terror
Manufacturing Consent: Noam Chomsky and the Media
Ayn Rand: A Sense of Life
Paragraph 175
Songs From the Second Floor
Mystic River
The Grey Zone
Duel in the Sun
The Pillow Book
Cinemania
Tokyo Godfathers

I’ve got to rent 20 more by August 18th, which is when I shall discontinue the massive renting spree and get on with the whole idea of “living life.” In the meantime however, I’ve got “Suicide Club” to watch.

---“Didn’t write hardly anything.”---

That one pretty much speaks for itself now doesn’t it. I have however taken another look at my script, and have written copious amounts of notes in the margins.

---“Got my wits about me and enjoyed some summer “downtime.””---

Well, dating certainly gets one out into the open. Plus the wife and I have made numerous trips to that Haven of All Things Holy, the Naperville Riverwalk. The Tuesday Movies In the Park have been great fun as well, even though “The Birds” nearly got us rained out. I was shocked at how great the picture and sound quality was for an outdoor movie though, and tomorrow: “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” Takin’ J to the MCA beforehand.

I only write for the lowest common denominator

2004-07-14T17:52:18Z

Not five seconds after I celebrate being able to write the film section for a new up and coming Chicago website, am I immediately smacked in the face by reality, left only to plummet back down to earth. The editor, who received numerous samples of my work and writing style beforehand and said that I was exactly what they were looking for insists I must now essentially “talk down” to the readership, and take out all remnants of any sort of academic film scholarship. I keep hearing the words “tongue-in-cheek” when an answer comes back to me saying what they want the tone of the piece to be, as well as “edgy” and “in-your-face.”

“Needs to be more tongue-in-cheek Scott, so the average reader will get your references.” What exactly, pry tell, does this statement mean? The mightily obscure “references” I’ve used for the one review I’ve sent to them (which was for “Jaws” btw…how much more Average Joe does one want??) was a throw away line to box office receipts, and how this movie ushered in the era of big-Hollywood Summer Blockbusters. I just thought it nice, being that everyone and their brother has already seen the fuckin’ movie to begin with, that I should punctuate a traditional fluffy review with some very minor scholarship. A portion of the review originally ran as follows:

It changed the way movies are made and, indeed, the entire business of showing them. After “Jaws,” the word “blockbuster” came into the movie-going vocabulary, and phenomenon-money became expected from summer hits. The fact that the average movie-goer now knows how much a film grosses during it’s first weekend at the box office (and on how many screens it does so on) is a direct result of the massive influence of this movie. (In fact, this type of information is deemed “newsworthy,” and can be seen right alongside unshown pictures of flag-draped caskets on CNN) The closest we’ve come in the past few years to something that even scratches the surface of how this movie changed perceptions and induced countrywide conversation is “Fahrenheit 9\11.” (Imagine all the furor over THAT one magnified tenfold and replaced with the fear of being eaten alive while swimming at the beach; opening at precisely the same time: the start of summer.)

This was Spielberg’s second film, and since it wasn’t HIS script, HIS baby, and everyone knew it was simply an assignment, he enjoyed a freedom that he hadn’t had before and probably never will have again. In the book “Jaws” by Antonia Quirke, part of the wonderful BFI Modern Classics series, she begins her introduction with a discussion of how Peter Benchley’s novel of the same name was tailor-made for this type of myth-induced primal terror that the movie so vividly creates for us:

“Here was one of those stories which seems always to have been nebulously there, unformed but already comprehended, waiting for someone to come along and fix it, nail it, get it right. And this is the first thing to say about the film of “Jaws,” which has this property of seeming discovered rather than created. It is definitive. It is the definitive articulation of a myth. It hits the nail right on the head. That’s the Spielberg touch.” Right you are, Tony. For better or worse, that’s Stevie’s gift…he takes already solidified feelings and bends them to his view of the cosmos: right and wrong, good and evil. He’ll put a nice little plastic bow on it, entertain the hell out of you, and then it’s his to own, no point in arguing. Sometimes he even gets it right, and with “Jaws” he got it right. Tenfold.

If THAT is too “obscure” for the readership of this website, then man. Let’s hear it for the dumbing-down of civilization.

“Saved” was fun btw…everyone should go out and see it if they’ve got 90-some minutes to spare, and take your evangelical Bible-beater acquaintance with you.

PS - I decided to change the layout of this page to curb the feeling of boredom for not only the readers out there, but more importantly, for mine.

“Heeeeere little snippet, snippet, snippet….”

2004-07-03T01:36:12Z

***Past 3 Months***
E.R. Moore is now a distant memory, for The Job With the Ex-Cons has ended. I certainly can’t say it wasn’t memorable, and I’ll be damned if I wasn’t touched by their display of emotion on my last day. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me…people who have been incarcerated for years and have had nothing to do but think about their actions would certainly be put in a reflective mood…and they certainly proved that during my final hours with them. Hugs, gifts, and wishes of “I’m sorry you’re leaving, but I don’t blame you,” were in abundance that day. One of my managers actually started tearing up as I said goodbye…perhaps she’d done time as well…

***606***
Thanks to my pal Mike (thanks Mike!) and a few months of talks and negotiations, I’m now writing the film section for 606mag.com. To look at their current film section is to understand WHY they need a helping hand, and as of the August issue I’ll officially be on board. Talking with the editor the other day put me in a fine mood indeed, as the site (barely 6 months old) is already garnering advertisers, and within the next 6 months they plan on making it a real paper magazine, hence me being able to see my stuff in print for the first time since the high school paper.

***Best Movie Going Experiences***
“2001” at the Astor Place cinemas in New York
“Patton” in 70mm at the Music Box
Sing-a-Long “Sound of Music” with Jacob and my mom
Being with a first-day crowd when Yoda fired up that lightsaber in “Episode 2”
Laughing with amazement as the first person started running up the walls in “Crouching Tiger…”

…and, as of 6\27\04, watching “Fahrenheit 9\11” with my mother. Sure, it was biased and a touch misleading in sections, but you can’t ignore the basic facts Moore presented. Not to mention, also pretty damned funny. But, the real reason this belongs up there with the Best Experiences was that after the movie, my mother (who doesn’t really have a political leaning, she just goes along with my Republican father) actually started crying after she left the theater in exasperation, not knowing what to do anymore about the state of the world. During the car ride home she asked questions and actually articulated her thoughts into coherent arguments about everything from how we view the Iraqi civilization to my father’s mid-life crisis. I don’t give my mother enough credit, and she surprised me once again with this conversation…truly one of my best friends.

***The Return of Spite and Great America***
Spite graced us with a brief return from TN, and we celebrated with a trip to Great America. On the way there Jacob and I lamented on what a slap in the face we both hath given the gay community. Not only did we completely ditch all the pride festivities this year, but deliberately reorganized our G.A. outing NOT to coincide with the annual “gay day” that immediately follows the Sunday parade. Thus, proving we did not need a gaudy parade to make us feel proud, we entered the park and celebrated the lauded Deadly Sin of Pride the only way we knew how…stalking hot straight boys in cut-off shirts. We only needed to find one before Spite turned her head toward her sister and said with a sigh, “It’s going to be like this ALL. DAY.” Right you were, Spite!

AND, during the long-line conversations, I’m happy to announce that I was able to talk BOOKS, for after watching the 3rd Harry Potter movie and explaining to him all the things they left out and filling in the blanks, Jacob finally was incensed enough to go out and buy the 3rd and 4th book. Now mid-way through the 4th and eagerly anticipating the 5th, it’s now all about putting spells on people who walk by and annoy. Wands can be made out of any long wand-like object, such as straws and knives. Patronus optional.

***Madge Returns***
My sister returned from Germany last week, and has officially begun staking her claim to her side of the bathroom. She needed to arrive back in the states because her 1-year work visa was up, but the REAL reason was so she could go to the Madonna concert she had acquired tickets for on the 15th. Not very good seats mind you, but enough to say that “We were there.”

Well, a few days ago I was surfing around online and found that they had opened up a new section of seats on the ground floor, a mere 11 rows from the front stage. That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was informing my sister of this information, as she immediately pushed me out of the way with a curt “Why the fuck didn’t you buy them already??” and rampaged downstairs to a computer with DSL connection. Within 4 minutes she had pulled up the ticketmaster page and looked me dead in the face. “The tickets are 300 dollars, but you’re my brother. There isn’t even a question as to if we’re going or not. We are. Now what seats do you want: 1 and 2 or 7 and 8?”

I was appalled. The tickets we had were already 150 bucks, and prime seats like these ran 300. That’s Three Hundred dollars, and for that you do not get a lock of her hair, you do not get to shake her hand…you only get to contribute more riches upon a woman who frankly doesn’t need another red CENT, least of all from me. However, my sister owes me three grand from a previous car-sale, and she said, upon my voiced concerns about 300 dollars being absofuckingridiculous, “Don’t worry. I’ll just take it from the three thousand I owe you for the car. You’ll never even see it in your hand, and you’ll never miss it. It’ll be like it wasn’t even there.”

That’s certainly correct…it’ll be like it wasn’t even there, which is the whole POINT.

“Scott, I don’t even HAVE a job, without any prospects for one in the future. Do you see ME whining about a lousy 300 bucks?”

Well, no…I suppose I don’t. I also don’t really give a rats ass about anyone’s whining but my own at this point, and I don’t want to…

But it was too late. She had already clicked to order the tickets, and with a loud laugh of triumph she had printed out “our” confirmation page from ticketmaster. Fighting at this point was useless. I’m out of 300 bucks, and I’m seeing Madonna on the 11th, in the 11th row. I have no idea how to feel about this, other than monetarily raped.

“Twentynine Palms”

2004-05-25T02:39:25Z

A few weeks ago I was flipping through the new issue of Artforum magazine, not because I enjoy it’s unbearably snotty academic tone regarding everything from Guston to finger-paint, but because it had an article on the recent new wave of French films, what they in turn called the New French Extremity. In a nutshell, with new filmmakers working such as Ozon, Noe and Breillat, the French have begun examining, in an art film milieu, images and subjects that were once the provenance of splatter films, exploitation flicks, and porn.

I know its blasé to say this, since they’re our mortal enemy and all, but I really dig the French. Francois Ozon is one of my favorite new directors, and I picked up the magazine to see if it had any new insights into his work. There really wasn’t much of that, but there WAS a still photograph from an upcoming release that showed this couple laying naked on a huge rock in Joshua Tree National Park, with the woman holding her hand artistically over the man’s crotch. It was a still from “Twentynine Palms,” and ever since I saw that picture, I resolved to see that movie any which way I could; controversial walkouts at Cannes be damned…

So, when it came here to Facets I was obviously delighted. Plus I figured that if the movie was less than stellar, chances are I’d at least have someone to look at inside the theater…people that go to Facets are pretty beyond your casual movie-goer, and in a city such as Chicago the chances are pretty high that if you see someone attractive inside, he’ll be gayer than the summer day is long. As I took my seat, the heavens opened up and deposited a beautiful looking French boy who plummeted right into the seat 2 rows in front of me. Perfect, I thought…now I’ve got another person’s reaction to gauge the film. And what better way to strike up a conversation with someone than to ask what they thought of the movie? The lights dimmed, and so it began…

Describing the “plot” is a waste, since there really was none. Of two main characters, the man speaks English, the woman speaks French; they can barely understand each other, but they sure can have sex. They have it everywhere, and the times when the man isn’t cuming loudly and violently, seemingly forcing the woman to either blow him or submit to him, they’re both naked and carrying out some bizarre sort of Adam and Eve parallel. The French boy 2 rows in front of me started to rub his eyes and lean his head sideways, propping it up with his hand. I’ll be royally pissed if he walks out, I thought to myself.

To introduce a temporary intermission in the story here, I recently was pointed in the direction of an interview with the director, Bruno Dumont, who said that he didn’t want a story per say; he wanted more of an “organic structure” to flow throughout the movie. Lemme tell ya, when directors start using phrases like that, you KNOW you’re in deep shit.

The movie trudges along, the couple fucking and driving around rural California in a Hummer. I almost started to get bored, and then the French boy 2 rows in front of me began to rub his neck, and I could hear the sound of his hand slowly touching his skin. Sigh.

So we're still watching the movie here until without any hint of motivation (aside from the fact she’s essentially treated as just a hole to penetrate) the female character decides to up and leave the man, who of course reacts violently. He persuades the woman to give him one more chance, just in time for a gang of skinhead hicks to ram their car in the desert, brutally drag them both out of the car and smash the man’s face in with a baseball bat before savagely raping him while the woman is forced to watch. The last 10 minutes or so then get REALLY fucked up…but suffice it to say that the whole thing comes to a particularly savage end.

Oh, and before all that they run over a dog on the road.

Now, one can just dismiss this as crap right off the bat, especially if the violence is so extreme that one feels nauseous by it. I admit however (and this could very well be a by-product of my growing up in America) that the violence didn’t so much affect me as the sex scenes did.

When I see an extremely violent depiction, especially one so out-of-the-blue and ridiculous as the ones shown in this movie, I realize immediately that I’m “being played” for some asinine reason or another and my “care-receptors” switch to “off.” But to see a woman perform oral sex on a man, the guy pumping into her mouth violently and contorting his face into an Iggy Pop-like scowl; gritting his teeth and screaming like he’s in agonizing pain…THAT I find disturbing. And if the woman afterwards kisses him and seems to bask in his “I love you’s,” well…that’s even more unsettling.

As I was watching this, my mind wandered (as all healthy minds should at times such as those) to another kind of movie made not by Canal Plus, but by Bel Ami. For those of you not in the know, Bel Ami is an Eastern European porn company, and the evolutionary process of natural selection is never more apparent than when you pop one of those babies in…

(Throughout most of the past 300 years, Eastern Europe has seen more wars and carnage than any other nation on Earth. All of the poor, uneducated masses went off to get slaughtered in skirmishes, leaving the rich few to propagate and multiply…and we all know, rich people breed mighty good stock. What’s left now? Nothing but beautiful people for Bel Ami to wave a couple ‘a hundreds at and entice with fleeting promises of stardom…)

Anyway, the reason I bring up a gay porn studio is that I (far from being a connoisseur) have certainly seen the lion’s share of pornography, and can say with complete and utter certainty that the producer of these Bel Ami movies, George Deroy, deserves either a MacArthur grant or the Nobel Peace Prize. It might seem trivial to classify a type of porn as art, but I’ll be damned if those Bel Ami titles aren’t art. The soft lighting, beautiful surroundings and scenes, and…I will say it…TENDER way these guys go about having sex is, quite frankly, the first of it’s kind. If all pornography were like this, you could almost show it in high school health classes to show what making love is supposed to look like.

Now, I’m used to seeing these porn movies in which when people have sex it’s truly a tender, beautiful thing to be a part of. Then I go see something like “Twentynine Palms,” where the guy forces the woman’s legs apart and she doesn’t, even thought it’s aggressive and obviously wrong, protest or yell “rape.” She is brutalized, made the recipient of misogynistic tendencies, and all but humiliated by her experiences and yet THIS isn’t what the director thought would push people over the edge…he had to resort to pure, hard violence. I’m confused at the choice, offended by the decision, and repulsed by it’s presentation.

Three seconds after the movie ended and the credits rolled, the French boy sitting 2 rows in front of me got up and walked out. Quickly. I didn’t want to make it look like I was stalking him, so I stayed in my seat for a few more seconds before bolting out the door to find him. I looked inside the theater, then walked out the door to the gray early-evening as the wind started to pick up and storm clouds slowly moved in…

He had disappeared.

JC's Sweet Dump

2004-05-09T13:28:29Z

Chastise, mock...STONE me if you must, but I actually wanted to go see JC Chasez at the House Of Blues Friday night. I didn't for a combination of reasons, the most pressing being that i didn't want to pay 40 bucks to see a has-been. I have seen him previously however, and the boy is not only hot, but has a package like "whoa."

Anyway, upon flipping through the Reader this past week I came upon an interesting "Critic's Choice" column. Rave or pan, you be the judge:
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JC CHASEZ
Friday 5/7, House of Blues
Shit-stupid pop music is a palate cleanser: after listening to challenging sounds by talented people, sometimes it's nice to bliss out in the land of the brain-dead, where JC Chasez dwells. He's trying to ride the coattails of fellow 'N Sync refugee Justin Timberlake, despite a charisma deficit and the fact that his debut, Schizophrenic (Jive), came out in February, more than a year after Justified. The album is 15 more tracks of sleazy crooning meant to moisten the ladies' panties, and the lyrics will no doubt scandalize his young fans (or at least their parents). When he's not being coy, using all-purpose double entendres like "coming," he's talking straight up about doing it, with girls or with his own hand. "All Day Long I Dream About Sex" (not a Korn cover, for better or for worse) is the most blatant: he spends practically half the tune chanting the title, backed by what sounds like a sub-Kraftwerk electro version of a sub-Abba disco groove and a painfully, hilariously dated B-boy beat. Chasez's willingness to humiliate himself by bastardizing the styles of better musicians is almost inspiring--he segues smoothly and shamelessly between cut-rate imitations of Grandmaster Flash, Jamiroquai, Michael Jackson, Corey Hart, and Donna Summer, to name just a few. He's one of those not-quite pop stars you can easily picture five years from now, sitting in a shitty prefab house in leopard-print skivvies with a pile of coke on the coffee table and a heifer with fake tits cooing in his ear: Don't worry baby, your next album is gonna take off. But for the rest of Chasez's 15 seconds in the spotlight, I'm just going to close my eyes and let him take a sweet dump in my ears. Early show: all-ages. Late show: 18+. Friday, May 7, 6 and 10:45 PM, House of Blues, 329 North Dearborn; 312-923-2000 or 312-559-1212. --LIZ ARMSTRONG

Mo Money, Mo Money, Moore Money

2004-04-30T02:43:08Z

So for the better part of almost 2 months, I’ve been dutifully joining my fellow Corporate Americans in the daily 9-5 grind. (8-4:30 in my case) Working at ER Moore, the world’s largest graduation cap and gown company, hasn’t exactly been a thrill and a half, but it has however gotten me back into the whole Waking Up In The Morning thing, and for a temp job I suppose I could’ve done a lot worse. Very casual atmosphere, an enjoyable camaraderie with my fellow co-workers and the hottest temps ever to step into an agency are all mine for the enjoying, and a few weeks ago I was chatting it up with one of my co-workers as we both attempted to start the day.

A little digression first and foremost is called for. One of those hot temps that I work with, Mike, is simply the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. He comes to my desk and leans over to ask a question, and as his eyes are focused on the paperwork-topic at hand, I can’t help but just turn and LOOK at the boy…smashing young lad, take my word for it. A favorite fellow-ER Moore-er, Janet, caught me staring at him one day (I never stare at people btw) and after he left, Janet turned to me and said, “This place is full of temptation, ain’t it Scott?” “Can’t argue with that,” I replied.

Anyway, Janet and I were doing the exact antithesis of what was firmly outlined in a previous memo, and were loudly conversing about business not related to work one day…when the topic of Martha Stewart somehow came up. “Man,” started Janet. “I can’t BELIEVE they gonna lock up Martha.”

“I hope they lock the evil bitch up and throw away the key,” said I. “Plus, even if she DOES get jail time, she’s going to federal prison. Those cells are nicer than my HOME for Godsake. She’ll probably even have her own chef.”

“They ain’t so nice, Scott. She gonna have to do WORK,” shot back Janet.

“Bullshit. Believe ME Janet, it’ll be like a corporate vacation for her.”

“No Scott, believe ME. I was IN federal prison. It ain’t so nice…”

There are two ways of dealing with a statement like that. You can either have your eyes completely bug out of your head and press her for details, or you can casually go back to your work and simply end the conversation with, “Well, you’d certainly know then.” I opted for “B,” but resolved myself to broach this subject again, and soon, during a coffee break.

Forty-five minutes later, I assailed Janet in the break room and pressed her for details. She really is the nicest woman, and I can’t imagine her ever doing anything that would add up to hard time in the Big House. She was very pleasant and told me to “Have a seat and I’ll tell you all about it” as she filled up her coffee mug and put 2 sugars in for taste.

Turns out ‘ol Janet was thrown in the slammer for real estate fraud. Swindled a few nice couples out of a couple thousand dollars. “Wow,” was all I could really say. “Welp, as far as I’m concerned, the only thing you did wrong was get caught, Janet.”

Well let me tell you, that elicited the biggest smile I’ve ever seen come from another human being, and as she put her arms around me I knew I had just made a new friend. “Lemme tell you somethin’ Scott,” she started as we began to make our way back to the office. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but this company is known for hiring people fresh out of federal prison.”

“No shit?”

“Yup. Look around here a bit.” She went back to her desk and looked at me as I did a quick scan of the main office floor. Now that I was looking at these people with a new set of eyes, I’ll be damned if I couldn’t pick out the people who had done time.

I sat down next to my new cubicle-mate, Tabitha. Sweet girl…works for shit…but sweet. Amazes me that a customer service representative who rolls her eyes and groans every time the phone rings has as of yet not been fired. Anyway, Tabitha reiterated what Janet was saying, and then gave me a sweet little piece of info: “You can tell all the people who’ve been locked up on Fridays. That’s when the money truck comes in. I guess when you get out of jail you can’t set up a bank account right away, and to cash your checks you need to go to a special currency exchange. Well, the currency exchange truck comes every Friday at 12:30. Take a look at who gets up and walks out the door.”

I looked forward to Friday even more than usual that week, and at about 12:25 Tabitha nudged me, as if I needed a reminder as to what was coming. “Here we go,” she said as we both giggled behind our computer monitors. “Oooo look! Christine gettin’ up!”

Christine, along with about 40% of the entire office staff, started to get up and work their way to the door, checks in hand. I couldn’t fucking believe that my temp agency placed me in a company where the majority of workers were convicted felons. The remaining 60% of the work force are temps, so that means when busy season is over with, the prisoners are running the prison.

As of yet, no major problems have occurred since I acquired this new knowledge. I made it a point to tell Mike, so our bond could continue to grow (facetious statement), and it does sort of explain the rash of purse snatchings and bag lunches that are occasionally stolen from the cafeteria fridge.

Lars Von Trier: Pornographer

2004-04-19T02:50:23Z

So I just went to see “Dogville,” and to spare the people who have no interest in such things I’ll put my summed up thoughts right here at the beginning: It was ridiculous. A more detailed explanation follows…

I really geared myself up to hate this movie, because of what “Dancer In The Dark” did to my person, which was to subject me to about a hundred and twenty minutes of emotional rape. That being said, I really liked it, the main reason being Bjork’s performance. I even went so far as to purchase it, and have since watched it maybe twice, turning it off at the second to last song (which is…for those of you who have seen it…quite a romantic way to approach a viewing, if I do say so myself). I liked it in spite of the director, who deemed it necessary to keep the movie going long after it’s point was reached, and the final 15 minutes or so are nothing short of depraved; the proverbial icing on an already misogynistic cake.

I had heard much about this opus, and looked forward to it if for nothing else to see Nicole Kidman get shat upon continuously for 3 hours. Well, not the whole three I thought…he needed to use the first sixty minutes to get us to really love and care for her, and THEN let the misery slowly trickle down until it ultimately becomes relenting. A funny thing happened though, from the time I heard she was going to be starring in it to today at 4pm when I sat down to view it…I actually sort of like her now. After “Moulin Rouge,” “The Hours,” and then a revisit of “To Die For,” I think she might actually qualify as a movie star AS WELL as an actress. I felt sorry for her, even more so when I came upon a little spat that she and Lars had on the set.

“What do I have to do to get you to like me?” pleaded a weeping Nicole one day during shooting on a particularly grueling day.

“Fuck me and give me all your money,” was the tender reply from our shameless ringleader. Thanks for that, Lars.

So I start to watch it, and for the first hour thought it pretty interesting. The movie is shot on a soundstage, and makes pains to deliberately NOT cover that fact up. Indeed, the set is laid out like one from the theater, with chalk drawings on the ground that line out certain townsfolk houses, the name of “Elm Street” being labeled in big white letters for all to see, etc. There are no walls and doors on this soundstage; everyone pantomimes the actions of opening and closing a door, hoeing a garden, etc. My biases took hold of this before viewing it and thought, “What an egotistical full-of-himself asshole,” but it was actually a pretty interesting concept, one that was worth doing if for no other reason than to conduct an experiment, in this case successful. The cast was pretty terrific as well…Lauren Bacall, Phillip Baker Hall; the whole shebang was in there, and all did a great job with their horribly stereotypical roles of ignorant backwater townsfolk.

So what happens when Nicole’s character comes to Dogville as a mysterious stranger, hoping to hide from mean mobsters who want to kill her? (Character by the name of GRACE by the way…gimme a break) Well, she’s of course taken in by the at first welcoming townsfolk, who slowly throughout the course of three hours begin to become suspicious of her, and subject her to all sorts of humiliating and painful trials…and all through this we’re expected to think of poor Grace as an innocent lass, completely submissive and powerless to stop the degradations. The problem is, I didn’t buy it for a second.

“Dancer In The Dark” worked so well because Bjork, god bless her, did a brilliant job of playing a character so dim-wittedly good hearted and pure, she was just a hair shy of retarded. If anyone did so much as stick their tongue out at her, you’d immediately start to tear up and wish the insensitive bastard a miserable eternity in hell. Nicole Kidman either cannot or did not play Grace as a dim-witted rube. I don’t think the woman is capable of such a feat…just one look at her and you just KNOW that this woman wouldn’t put up with shit from anyone, no matter how “nice” and “sweet” she might seem to be…so when the movie started taking it’s inevitable turn for the masochistic, and you had all sorts of nasty things happening to Nicole, I just sat back and rolled my eyes, conscious of the fact that someone was trying to play me. I hate being played. Unless you're really hot and just finished wrapping prinipal photography for Wolfgang Peterson's epic drama, "Troy."

The kicker came during the last 45 minutes or so when the townsfolk, itching to teach nasty ‘ol Grace a lesson, put a padlock and chain around her neck which was connected to a heavy metal wheel. The sight of Nicole looking solemn and innocent and using the chain to pull her metal weight around…well, quite frankly it reduced me to laughter. I’m sure it was all very ironic, and could be used to explain something about bashing America, but I didn’t buy it for a second. It wasn’t even worth the time it would take to even LOOK for hidden meaning.

Perhaps I’m just not “deep” enough to get it…and I’ve never claimed to be a philosopher by any stretch of the imagination…but the last 20 minutes or so, when the mean mobsters come for Grace and all you get a lot of talk talk talk before even more ridiculousness happens…I swear it was as inane as listening to a Deconstructionist talk about his crackpot theories. (I just KNOW I’m gonna get shit for that one.)

The New Yorker’s David Denby claimed to be bored by it all, and I must admit that bored wasn’t the feeling I got. On the contrary, I was wide-awake waiting for something to happen…something to make it all make sense…and it never came.

Jonathan Rosenbaum of the Chicago Reader spat out an interesting little tidbit of information that I was pretty intrigued by: when not directing misogynistic movies in which frail female characters proceed to become emotionally decimated…Von Trier produces Danish PORN!! I ask you, how perfect is THAT??

I’m not even going to mention the anti-American stuff, because it’s all so ridiculously redundant and banal (a crippled daughter of a black slave waving the flag from her wheelchair at a Fourth of July dinner…c’mon now). I’m all for critiquing the US and waving a nasty finger at her every once in awhile, but from THIS guy? I’m thinkin’ no.

To sum up, Nicole certainly did her best in a thankless role, but ultimately I felt nothing for her or her plight…the fault of the writer/director.

An Update In Anecdote(s)

2004-03-11T03:31:12Z

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Joy’s Oscar party was delightful, even though the best part of the show was Marty’s American Express commercial. She bailed however on the first meeting of the Yuppie Straight Woman Book Club, where we talked about “Middlesex.” (great book btw…go get it) She ditched it because she hadn’t read the book the whole way through, and didn’t want to look stupid when we talked about the end…I suggested that would be a good idea, being that it would ruin the experience of reading it by herself, and this is when she told me how she goes about buying a book: Joy goes through bookstores, flips through and reads the last 4 or 5 pages of a book, and if she likes it, she buys it. Yes folks, THESE are my friends.
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David’s dinner party last week was an enjoyable evening, even though the home theater was busted…we just had to sit around and enjoy food shipped in from all over the world…fruits from Thailand, chicken from Jersey…when Jacob brought up the fact we were going to visit C and B, who still have Danny Roberts’ email. David said that if we get Danny Roberts to come to Chicago (under the ruse of me wanting him for a film project) he’d pay for the entire enterprise himself.

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Not 24 hours after I leave the temp agency, my recruiter offers me a job, which I accept. I started the next day (waking up at 6am…argh…) and met my co-workers. I might as well be working at AfroWorld (see entry for 2-24-04) because 2 out of my 3 cubicle-mates are these kick-ass black women, Janet and Candace. I can’t tell you how quickly the day goes by, listening to these two bicker back and forth about whose “man treat them the worst,” and the very first day I almost peed my pants as I heard the following exchange:

(GUIDE TO UNDERSTANDING: The character of “Jamaal” is Candace’s brother.)

CANDACE
Jamaal said to me, he says, Candace, you gots to be lockin’ yo car door. They’s some crazy-ass muthufuckas out there jis’ waitin’ to bust in yo shit.

JANET
Hell naw.

CANDACE
You know it true, J. So I said Jamaal, what you talkin’ bout me lockin’ my car door. What the hellz the difference in my own back yard? And he says, Candace you GOTS to be lockin’ yo door, and I said, WHY Jamaal? And he say, “Dat’s how I got mine.”

JANET
Hell naw.

CANDACE
I said Jamaal, yo black ass is CRAzy.

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I’d write more, but it’s only 9:30 and I’m already fucking tired…just one episode of Buffy and I’m goin’ to bed…