my second foray into Celebrity-lookalikedness!

say what you will, but this silly shite is kinda good for the ole ego! and an excellent source of time-wastage!

I highly recommend it.

My (supposed) Celebrity Look-Alikes!

ok, Angelina...I aint complaining. haha

"Coming Out"

Today the world was rocked: Clay Aiken announced publically (via "People" magazine) that, yes, indeed he IS gay. Kudos, brother, kudos. In the face of conservative and self-righteous communities who may perceive this kind of pronouncement as a 'special' event around diversity, he has proven himself brave. Mind you, with all the pressure to come out as a public person, and media vultures clipping at one's ears until they are about to bleed, Clay's 'coming out' might arguably have been a strategic act of self-preservation. "I can't says I blame him."

In fact, his announcement has inspired my own exposition: I, (first name, last name), declare that I...am a "Heterosexual". Yep. Those of you who had suspected it, you were right all along. I have always been that way but was too scared to face things for fear of social, institutional oppression, and even public persecution (thank Goddess, I'm not famous! not yet anyway). In retrospect, I knew I was into Boys from an early age, from when my first crush in kindergarten saw me pee my pants. You can't buy this kind of humiliation. I remember standing in my school uniform at the front of the class begging the teacher to let me go to the washroom. She told me, "Not until you are finished reading the piece." But I could no longer read the piece, and she wasn't about to let me go to the washroom...but I um, did anyway. Right there, at the front of the classroom. Warm familiarity streaming down my gray nylons and puddling into my little black Dorothy shoes. I dared not look down, for the mortification of seeing it as being 'real' would prove too much for my little heart. But I saw 'his' eyes. Daniel (?), my crush, stared at me in disbelief and shame for me. He felt my pain. I wanted to cry but instead trudged away, making soft, gushy noises and silently cursing the day that cunt of a teacher had ever been born...

er, where was I? Well, my point was, from way back when, I knew that no matter how hard I tried, and how many times gay or bi-curious girls would sandwich me on the dance floor, or plant peckish, flirtateous kisses, no matter how many really cool, smart, sexy lesbians sort of 'checked me out' or gave me opportunity for 'eye sex'...I just did not have it in me to respond to the fairer sex. It's been men, boys, guys. I guess I must like dick. I am no longer going to be ashamed of that.

So...today, I feel brave enough to announce to friends and loved ones that I am indeed a "Heterosexual" Woman.

If only the world was not so judgemental of people or 'categorized' them as being different or incomplete somehow, if only there was less hate crimes centered around one's sexuality or any diversity, if only the state suported laws and policies that would protect those who only want to live their lives in peace and love another in the way that is real and right for THEM...if only things were more open and fair...I think I would have come out earlier. But the world isn't fair. And the Truth is scary to some people.

(Good on you, Clay.)

"Survivor, Exciting and New! Come Aboard We're Expecting You..."

So "Survivor" was cool and exciting (as one of the first North American mainstream really succesful 'reality shows' at its launch). Ok that's all good. Um.

However.

Survivor is in danger of becoming a joke upon itself, as it pushes its cart into its (17th?) season. By this time almost everyone has BEEN on Survivor as a contestant or as a winner! So where is the 'Surviving'? Isn't it more of a thrill when surviving is actually an anomaly, a happy and RARE occurance, than as an everyday (every season, at least) almost mundane happening? "Ok, so you need me to get bread, and milk and go win on Survivor? Right. Ok then, be back soon." Won't it lose a little something..?

I think by this point almost everyone (save for my mom and myself and a handful of jaded friends..?) have been 'Survivors'! Hot damn! There may just not be any more room for Specialness anymore! How can everybody be Special?? Won't that betray the very essence of being Special and 'standing out of the crowd'? In this case, the loser in the crowd is the stander-outee!! It's not that big a deal that you 'happen to be' the 113th person who has 'won' the Surviving challenge. Hell, everyone has reality-show style "Survived" and made it out alive, made it out a richer person, or even scored some new wheels in the deal too. But you may no longer be that big a shit, ya know what I mean?
Let's get real. What they need to do ('they' as in 'them', the 'powers that be', gurus of money-making, the entertainment-world self-proclaimed demi-gods of programming) is actually make it interesting. How about a reality show that is not about fame-whoring, or being another so-called "winner". How about a show called...(wait for it) "The Land of the Mediocre"!

I like that title. It would be a show about all the schmucks who have not been on Survivor (there are at least 23 of us left...I think) who are happy to be under-achievers in a content world of intensive couching, computer-mousing, remote-control-fondling and the like. Hell, I might even audition! Why not! At least, there is something new in town that is a novelty, a fresh idea!! A reality show for NON-winners, the anti-Survivor. NOBODY gets their fifteen seconds of fame! Screw you, Andy WarHO!!
I would so watch that.

Also, I am unsuccesfully trying to control my impulses toward impure thoughts that conjure up true tales of surviving: a cross between urban tales of the city and the horror genre! ie. "Thanksgiving at my Mother's...with her New, Cheeseball, Opportunistic Boyfriend who Gives Me the Creeps When He Tries to Dance All "cool" With Me"...or "Christmas Spent Consoling my Delusional Aunt as My Crazy, Drunken Uncle Embarrasses Everyone (except himself) By Foraying Into Drunken, Rage-Fueled Exposatory Storytelling..." See the Drama, Feel the Angst!

My favourite true Survivor-themed show would be, "How I Made It Out Without Slugging My Judgemental Father and His Deranged Girlfriend During Two Grueling Hours Enduring Their Insipid yet Dizzying, Frenzied, Deranged (said twice, but still accurately) One-Sided Conver-fuckin-sa-tions. Did They Ask How I the Frig I Was? No! Of Course Not!" (It's a long title, but it could work.)

Now THAT is Surviving!

Lastly, the worst part of this is that I will likely be tuning in the sodding show when it "premieres" (does that have any meaning anymore in this context??) its umpteenth season. Though I will have soaked my dentures in time to stick them back into my smile for the premiere, not to worry. "The show must go on." And on. And on. And...apparently, on...

Doesn't "blog" sound like someone drowning while simlutaneously gagging on runny oysters...(or is that just me?)

from the Dept. of "It Figures"
so I joined the notorious Facebook cult. ah yes, the power of the group persevered and I found myself creating a profile in order to access some documents my class group has posted.


That is how it started.


Well. Fast fwd a few months and I start filling out aptitude tests, and posting funny pictures, amusing myself by downloading applications, and taking quizzes like, "Which 1950's Pin-Up Girl are YOU?" and "Which Harry Potter character are you?" and thinking to myself, 'hey, this is alright. kind of fun, silly. maybe it is just the thing to keep my head out of proximity with my nether back regions for a while at least'.


Soon distant colleages spot me, or people I have only met once, or people from my past who did not actually know me but seemed nice enough who want to "add me" as an "FB-BFF" (my own term for FaceBook-BestestFriendsForever) and creepy, ex-boyfriends once so toxic for me are now also clammoring to 'befriend' me. Who am I to reject a request to be an e-friend for crissakes? That's gotta be horrible rejection! Shit, what harm can it really do? People CHANGE, don't prejudge, out with fear, in with love...and all that other shit.


Then I start getting invested in using FB as a makeshift social network.


I reason, "Maybe I can make more acquaintances through here and manage to go out more and get one of those things...you know, a life." So I start sending little keep-me-in-mind notes. "Hey, how are you? I see you have been busy having fun! Good on you. Drop me a line sometime", "Nice photo. That looks like a lot of fun. Was it?" To such requests, I received the typical urbanite reply. Silence. Crickets. Not a peep or a whimper, or an apologetic after-thought like "Oh, sorry I totally forgot to reply to you last month!" I tried to 'put myself out there' (whatever THAT means) but nothin' came of it.


Then FB starts to get me casting doubts about humanity in general. Dramatic.


I start feeling rejected and kind of pissed. I even close my account for a couple of weeks so I don't have to face pissy thoughts like, 'Why does no one reply to me?' I answer their questions, and respond with a question back to them when appropriate. Do they no longer have any use for my answer to the question THEY asked me? Then why ask in the first place? Now I have my own burning questions, "why bother addding me as a 'Friend' when you never reply to me, invite me anywhere (when you post great 'after-party' photos) or connect with me in any manner after 'adding' me?" This is very puzzling. Only one person actually replied within a decent time with a genuine response to my (genuine) question. How refreshing. (Thank you, Joel.)


I quickly realize that most people that have added me as a "FB-BFF" have no intention of being a friend in *real life*, or even a well-practised acquaintance. Instead, they save face by at least 'playing the part' of being invested. It might come down to collecting people, or "Faces" as the name implies. The more peeps you have as FB-BFF, the more popular you really, really are! Ok, so I'm another coin in the stamp collection. (Sardonic laugh here)


I like technology. Hell, I rely on it, and entertain myself through it and use it almost daily as par of the course of student-ing, and life. It has become a (cliche) 'Friend' of sorts. But substituting genuine intention with technology and letting that do the 'work' for you and instead of you is kind of missing the point. Isnt' it? or am I getting old?


To be fair, there are all types on there. Some sincere people who genuinely like you but would rather not actually get together with you (too busy, etc.), some people you'd rather leave in your past (that 'ex' I mentioned), some guys who want to flirt, and then my favourite: those who want to parade around how great their life is and how good-looking they really are. In the end, adding someone as a 'friend' means nothing, and 'friend' itself is grossly (mis)appropriated.


My problem is I expect too much from others, at least as much as I give to them. Not a wise thing, perhaps. Tonight is one such example of the culture of cyber "friendliness" that perplexes me. I get online, see there is a cute guy that I added as a friend after we both expressed "interest" in each other (through some dating application). I start to chat hoping to keep it light, get a sense of who this person is, how he thinks, if he has a sense of humour ("Please, lawd...let him have a sense of humour!"). Before long he mentions he can 'take care of my tension'. I peruse his profile noting the large number of attractive, single women 'friends' he has. I begin to see a pattern so I say 1/4 jokingly, "Well, let's stick to chatting for now! (smiley face icon) 'playeh'. haha". He does not like this. He replies, "playeh??", then abruptly signs off before I can even put my words into context! I cry onto the keyboard, then into my journal, feeling the great loss, the mourning of a true friend. I cry. Oh, how I cry. When I am done consoling myself, I think, "What an asshole. No sense of humour for one, and he can dish it out but sure can't take it. Good riddance then!"


I see someone else from my past is still online, and continue chatting with him. I even mention my terse moment with 'Playeh' and he laughs. I know he has been in ill health, so before long, I decide to invite myself to visit him. He accepts. This self-invite pushes me to go beyond my fear ("what if he emotionally or energetically leeches off me too much?") and be ok with being an acquaintance myself. Also, he is in a relationship which helps my ease, truth be told.


We're all lonely sometimes. Maybe this time, I can be an acquaintance to this person, regardless of how 'close' we are or are not. Get to know people, my heart tells me. Fuck, Facebook, Faca-de Book, fuck the pretenders (and I don't mean Cryssie Hynde). I will treat FB culture as only fun, frivolous & meaningless and will continue in pursuit of those completely meritless quizzes! As for making ACTUAL acquaintances, I will strive to "set down the mouse and try to step out of the house."


You can quote me on that, but only because it rhymes.

I should have been a Goth musician. sigh

riding the wave of suuper tired during most of the day (with you know, light out), then it gets dark, well, my eyes and my body start responding to life...I feel better. Like a human being. And that's you know, a good thing. I finish another scathing paper on the 'way things are in the world' (my fave. topic in just about every paper!) and here I am thinking why the f*ck do I feel fine now?? it's almost 12 am! I should be yawning and getting ready for bed...and feeling well-spent.
Well, I feel overdrawn, not spent--but definitely not salient (ha. money joke)

oh shit. Ok: my favourite word this whole week/month/year (oh,hell Ill admit it: for EVER) is..........(wait for it)


IGNORANUS


perfection. beauty. it says it all.
the state of the world and all that too.

for shiz and giggles...

Gallery of the Absurd does it again (and again, and again. Bless them).

At Last, Condoms for the WannaBe!

"When a Chinese condom manufacturer made the wise decision to slap David Beckham's smooth golden image onto a box of poorly selling condoms, they immediately watched sales skyrocket to number one in China. Beckham didn't approve the use of his image and he's not endorsing or making any profit from it (Poor Posh, just imagine all the day-glo Hermes bags she's missing out on hoarding).

It's amazing how one can take a bunch of flimsy rubber, cram it in a box, add a picture of a pretty soccer player on the front...and then sit back and watch the profits roll in. I'm in the wrong business, I tell ya. What many of you don't know is that it was I who designed the Beckham condoms box. Yes, it's true...I have lucrative International Chinese connections..."

purdy lights...

(forget the post below...look at the pretty lights!!) yay**

God Bless "Freedom of Speech"...

It's creeps like this that give religion (and freedom of speech!) a bad name!
here's a "Passage" (and not from the Good Book):

"In respect to the issue of homosexuality and choice, given the existence of ex-homosexuals and given the existence of human cultures where homosexuality has apparently not existed, the position that homosexuality is ultimately a choice in individuals or at the very least can be a choice in individuals has strong evidential support. In addition, given that the homosexual population has significantly higher rates of many diseases and...lower rates of mental health it can be strongly argued that engaging in homosexual acts is a bad choice for individuals. Another factor that makes engaging in homosexual acts a bad choice is the significantly higher rates of domestic violence in homosexual couples. In addition, according to experts homosexual murders are relatively or quite common and often homosexual murders are very brutal. Also, the homosexual population has a greater propensity to engage in illegal drug use."

Well, for starters, "homosexuality" was legally deemed a mental illess (in Canada) until 1973. Might help explain some of these supposed 'metal health' stats these idiots are claiming. But, people can build any argument and 'locate' statistics for any damn thing if they look for it (and frame facts in a specific way & obscure others, etc). These hating types tend to have "friends in high places", enough money and access to the powerful institutions, which scares me. "Hi, Church + Bedroom, meet 'State'."

(I've provided the link, but I honestly don't want to give these peeps any more 'air' time) goodbye!

Heath Ledger is dead...

terrible, shocking sad news...among other issues, he had been having sleep problems and I feel badly for him as I have been in that sort of hell, where one feels he is the only one with those types of problems and is completely alone. It hurts. I don't know how he got to where he got to...I only wish him well. May he find peace.

Sad ending. Too soon. He will be missed by many, including me.

Here are some thoughts from people who worked with him (I highlighted the pts. I would like to remember).

"The remarkable characters he has left us in his extraordinarily wide-ranging body of work will remain as a testament to his talent. Heath was an artist, a kind and sensitive man, who simply wanted to do good work of which he could be proud."

"He was uncomfortable with celebrity, which made him a target for fools, preferring to focus on being the best actor he could be. For that, he will always have the respect and admiration of those who knew, understood and admired him.

"His early death is a terrible loss for all of us, but most particularly for his family, and his adored daughter, Matilda.”

Shocked and saddened - John Polson

Filmmaker and Tropfest founder John Polson has joined the outpouring of grief at the news.

"I am incredibly shocked and saddened by the news. Nothing can soften the blow from this kind of tragedy, especially with someone so young.

"I have met Heath many times over the past decade and was always struck by how warm, gentle and decent hearted he was. I know people will remember him with great respect and my thoughts are with his family."

Gallery of the Absurd

I'm sorry...this site just makes me laugh! His works are always ingenious and inspired by pop culture! This one dares ask: "WHAT IF THE DALAI LAMA AND THE DONALD SWITCHED PLACES?"



Here is Trump being a total cheeseball

Preggers, Schmeggers

hmm..it seems as though Ms. Universe has been sending me a message, albeit a 'mixed' one. It seems 'she' has come by, not found me at home and so placed a big ole neon colored paper ticket on my door to let me know that, "There is a message here for you. Come pick it up, dork!" Er, or so it feels...

Interestingly, have been drawn to and rented movies to do with single women getting pregnant ("Waitress", "Knocked Up"), then invited out to see a movie similarly-themed ("Juno" re: a pregnant teen), then reading books featuring out-of-wedlock and hush-hush births ("Fall on Your Knees", great book). Lately, I even received a lovely feminist mag from a friend and the first article I cracked it open to was (surprise!) to do with single women and pregnancy. The zine's theme itself is "Singularity and Plurality," interesting and quite apropos to a time of baby obsession (or perhaps distraction, post "9/11" and during an ongoing 'war' on terror among other ugly things...). There is an almost imperceptible 'vibe' out there somehow rooting us on to repopulate and rebuild the nation, and it has baby-bib pink all over it! Or is it just me? Again. sigh.

I suppose too that is could all merely be a grand Coincidence. I also feel (my intuitive part argues) that is could also be a case of significators being laid out for me like a nice little map of ideas. I guess I can see it both ways (I'm lucky that way :) Maybe I'm paying attention but not for the obvious reasons implied...

Sometimes, I feel inundated with romanticized images of babies and baby-making (regardless of, and separate from the notion of 'family' I note) where everyone is smiling giddily at babies and baby, baby, baby things, and pink and tiny cool clothes and Hollywood stars with 'bellies' and trainwreck pop-stars and their many mishaps and oops! baby on the way - all is forgiven, instant public redemption (!), and the media's almost obnoxious obsession and vigilant focus on its 'baby watch'! WHAT UP?? Also, does anybody consider the post-romance buzz-kill that is when the lidl babybaby grows UP? Yes, from that to toddler, then kid, then sullen teenager! Hello?? Babies don't stay cute forever (whatever yer mom tells ya)! Babies don't stay *babies* forever. Don't see too many cute headlines about pesky ten-year-olds driving their mom 'round the bend, do we? Just saying...

Should I see so much of babies and feel that I am really, really missing the boat here? Are feelings of 'maybe I should think about this' a result of over-exposure to the baby farm (read: media hype) or is that my own tic tic (tic tac anyone?) biological clock starting to crack? sheesh. Can't a girl just kind of get there by herself without being constantly bonked on the head being blatantly reminded: "HEY,TOOTS, YA AINT GETTIN ANY YOUNGER! HOW'S ABOUT GIVING SOME THOUGHT AND EFFORT TO SQUEEZING OUT PUPPIES SOON, EH? HELLOOO??"

I like babies, don't get me wrong. I would like to think (er...hope) that I still have a shot at my own trial in this field should it come to fruition (pun intended), not counting pesky details like a suitable 'donor' appearing, my own life situation and $ stability being non-existent at this juncture. hee. But all this fuss over babies is starting to make me paranoid and kinda grumpy...like I'm channeling some weird "pregnancy-sympathy" symptoms?? I jest. Yes, I am at that 'ripe' age, been off the vine for bit now and just before souring, which, it could be argued makes me biologically a candidate to feel these 'funny feelings' (but not that everyone does). Yet, rather than joy and anticipation, I feel enormous pressure to catch up to (what appears to be, and what is being 'sold' as) the 'majority' of my peers fertile, straight women in their 20's, 30's and even early 40's. It makes me wonder, 'Are my eggs going to go bad by the time I get there? Should I be tryin' harder?? Will I feel totally shitty if I miss my 'window' (with pink lace curtain finishings)?

All I see is skinny, yet big-bellied women and their trials and tribulations and excitations at the bundle of joy to soon grace their lives. But my eyes are starting to roll back in my head...ok, ok enough already! What's with the 'sudden' baby boom and the onslaught attack of the baby-themed films (esp. comedies) tv shows (ie. "Notes from the Underbelly" - are you serious??) and headlines that are prioritizing the building of a nation, the continuation of our species? Did we get paranoid about there not being enough of us already?? I'm no numerologist but I know there is enough peeps in the world (and most of them struggling).

Is there some covert "Western" underlying cultural message to all 'breeder' women who have not spawned yet to "get (their eggs) crackin'?" I sympathize and support the voice of breeder, but non-spawning women when they assert, "Heck, maybe I don't want to breed, maybe I feel fulfilled and happy as my life befits me, maybe I don't want to be a mother." Maybe not. The world is over-populated as it is. I say, You go, Sister! And to non-breeders (read: not straight) who DO want kids I say too, You go, Sister!

Yet for me, it has come to be that lately (as in, the last few years) I have had moments of tiny aches, I might even say 'yearnings' and the thought of being sidled (for life, literally) with an infant, then a teen does not completely repel me. Hmm...I even picture favourable things sometimes! Imagine that. So it falls for me to state resignedly (sp?) that I might be a breeder yet.

But I wish media (the mainstream type that unfortunately comes fast and cheap and that I feel inundated and invaded by) would ease up on the belly watch thing and find other hobbies! Find other ways to celebrate and revere women. Surely, there is more that we contribute than spawning good looking little tykes sporting cool mowhawk mini-me hair cuts! Let's find other reasons to celebrate what women do, what makes them compelling and interesting and stop making us fair maidens (like this single and somewhat harried author) paranoid that we will somehow falter or fall short of fulfilling our 'whole' potential as women if we don't personally donate to the baby farm.

Let's talk about something other than growing belly bumps, let's find a new fascination! Or better yet, let's get honest about what the real issues are (the not-so-cute-ones) and who we are or want to be. Why the hell not?? Let's try being original. And, while I'm at it: a shout out to the cool aunties (author included) who volunteer to show your kids a good time and take 'em off your hands for a while. (I see no articles on cute, single, incredibly hot, babyless aunties as of yet but I'm hopeful...)

I'll end with echoing the words of Sojourner Truth who, for her own reasons valiantly once asked, "Aint I A Woman?"

The "Cleanse"

Ok, so I don't 'believe' in making Resolutions first of all, so this is not related to any such motivation. Ick. Now (a pause here for effect), to the goods: I did the "Master cleanse" for 1/2 a day (which is better than 0%) and in such a wee span of time, I saw ripe new worlds palpitating afresh as though released from their pomegranite sky to become sweetly earth-bound...er, but I digress.

I felt no headache (I swear, not even a little sneaky one), my eyes were clear (I guess they ARE green), my hair was curlier (well, ok I DID wash it today...special day 'n all), and dare I say, my skin looked (permit crudeness here, but) fuckin great! All in all, I would say I stopped clenching onto life (and uh, in other ways...), managed to rest my overworked, oft-neglected, heavily taxed internal organs (sorry, body) and felt...yes, I think it is safe to say: great, unequivocally and without exception.

No fan fare. Nobody was looking, out to impress no one, I merely 'tried'! Who'd have thunk a rather jaded, cynical gurrl like me would smile without any sarcastic smirk about a such thing??

Oh, and after sipping my tart yet healthful concoction, I waxed poetic and looked out the window (sighing here) where I think the tree trunks did indeed appear a dark lavender hue, and the shiny, slick concrete of the sidewalks adorned with strewn about fallen leaves themselves looked rose-colored. ah.

Oh, just shuddup and try it. You jaded bastards! ;)

Charlie's life

The title links to a lovely site for animal lovers...the life of Charlie the Coyote! (I am choosing to ignore any coincidences with respect to my dear deceased kitty below and coyotes...) Nevertheless, enjoy these bee--yuu-ti-ful pictures!

Note to Si

Baby, I hope hope you are doing well. I miss you around here. Your little sis has been more vigilant than normal and she seems lonely too. She is even letting me pet her. I think of how you appropriated my bed during the days and kept vigil over me as I worked endlessly. We watched teli together, me rubbing your soft white fur, your tummy exposed, in a twisted pirouette you shamelessly welcomed my caresses.

You too, touched me in ways you may never know. You were my little nursemaid, my friend, nurturer, torturer, adventurer, rogue, a playful loving spirit. Your rough pink kisses secured me through the tough times or told me that you appreciated my comfort and my tenderness. It was a mutual admiration we held. You were a puss-ionate one!

Today it is raining. I think of how you would be sleeping on my 'cat blanket' and I look to smile upon you...but see you no longer there. I think of how I would like to hold you once more in my arms. My sweetness, my soft little baby. I would like to think I will see you somewhere else and maybe always...in some form. Perhaps you will come to adorn our Christmas as a little angel. You always looked like one, even if you were a tad naughty. But you were always love incarnate.

I miss you my little man. It was the longest moment when I looked into your eyes as death came seeping in. I sent you white light and love so you would not be afraid. Most of all, I wanted you to not be afraid. So I held myself in 'love' so as to be there for you until the very end. You are one of my dearest most cherished friends. For you, I will retain the memory of an endless, impossibly soft coat, white like eternity, a warm belly, an inquisitive bright mind, and a most sensitive, gentle being. I hope the ride was good for you. You loved so well, and so you were well loved.

Goodnight, little prince. May twighlight and moonbeams guide you along your path... May I see you in a beautiful sunlight garden, for I know that is where you would be.

Steven Wright jokes ('deadpan' delivery essential here)

"Winny would spend all of his time practicing limbo... He got pretty good... He could go under a rug..."

Today I met with a subliminal advertising executive for just a second.

Last night I fell asleep in a satellite dish. My dreams were broadcast all over the world.

I was born by Caesarean section, but you really can't tell...except that when I leave my house, I always go out the window...

Right now I'm having vu ja de--deja vu and amnesia at the same time.

Sometimes I...No, I don't.

There's a fine line between fishing and standing on the shore looking like an idiot.

Randomness

The Man with Two Heads-1973, Ray Milland (post Oscar-nominee era!)

Worth looking at, if nothing else for the train-wreck quality it has in spades. DO I even need to explain the plot here?? The title says it all! and who cares, anyway? it is flawless in its lack of coherent plot, very, very mediocre "special effects" and wonderful over-the-top acting...sigh. It's a beautiful thing. The chase scenes will make you laugh out friggin' loud. (Probably better-viewed while stoned but I wouldn't know).
For you anal types, here is a quip of the uh...
Plot Synopsis: A rich but racist man is dying and hatches an elaborate scheme for transplanting his head onto another man's body. His health deteriorates rapidly, and doctors are forced to transplant his head onto the only available candidate: a black man from death row.

On a 'whole n'other level' is a movie that is rather under-rated and deserves some decent Cult status (which I have read it has):

Velvet Goldmine-1998, Ewan McGregor, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Christian Bale, Toni Colette

Reasons to watch: great soundtrack, GLAM frigggin' ROCK style and madness, heavy David Bowie-esque biographic nudging, Oscar Wilde references artfully disbursed throughout, Ewan McG. acts like a softer Iggy Pop, gets buck nekkid, and kisses another beautiful boy J. Rhys Meyers (here very purdy, androgynous and sexy),cool directing, editing, nice visuals, Eddie Izzard great as a sleazy manager!

Only "drawback": you'll watch it twice to 'get' the mystery, within a love story, within a rock-opera-esque drama...and you kinda don't mind. Hee!

"Oh, SNAP!"

Marilyn, we miss thee
XXX

Cinematic 'surprises'

Apocalypto
I had no idea I would grow to almost love this movie (in retrospect) and watch it twice in a row! Perhaps it was the intense and thrilling visual action sequences that riveted me without guns or car explosions, or the lush cinematography...perhaps it was the authenticity that captivated me...all these elements became fascinating. Equally fascinating was learning (somewhat) of the culture and ritual of the ancient Mayan civilization.

At one point during a particularly violent sequence, I was moved to tears as the scene unfolding seemed to be one 'out of my past'. Somehow I connected on a deeper level, one of blood kinship. It felt so real and though it was 'only a movie', it felt so close to home, and touched upon some primordeal memory from my spirit past perhaps in South America. This movie went to my gut, it felt so visceral and bloody and real, yet I didn't mind because it felt screamingly authentic. Conquest of a tribe IS violent and ugly!.

Personal politics: I get a little miffed at the holier than tho types who scorn Mel Gibson (the man) for having fucked up and spoken out of turn (foolishly, and I'm sure regretably) who now judge and negate his work as Mel the artist. I separate the man from the art. He made a fine piece of work with a lot of passion!

Oh please, let's not judge another as though he made a wrong that we could 'never' do. The man likely has a serious drinking problem. Quite honestly, THAT concerns me more than spewing foolish rhetoric. If we were all contested on what we have said, then none of us would be respected and we would all have received at least twenty lashings and a few sharp stones pelted at our bodies. I have certainly said some regretable things, but as a human being and also an artist, I would hope that civilians (note the root: civil) would judge my art based on the merit of the work, aside from my personal politics. THAT is fair and less hypocritical.

300
Another bloodbath(house) gem of a film! I'm not sure if I'm on some roll here with respect to catching very good, yet violent film or simply being more open-minded to the various forms of art. In any case, 300 was friggin gorgeous to look at, not to mention having incredible editing and camera techniques. Really groundbreaking stuff. I really liked that it was told like a myth or a fable with the surreal, larger than-life off-colored and sepia toned visuals. Wow. Very creative use of imagery and quite apropos. I was enthralled watching it.

At first, I saw much blood and thought, 'Oh, no, here we go, another he-man movie to inspire all the young boys to go out and fight, build muscle, be patriotic glory-men...blah, blah.' But I sat there anyway. Well, ultra machismo messages aside (and there are many), I really enjoyed the movie as a whole body of art. The imagery, the almost balletic fighting choreography, the music!, story and the supernatural elements woven in which made the story vacillate between the real and the ultra-real. Cool stuff! Another charmer that I did not see coming. After watching, it felt as though I had surprised myself by managing to consume a very rich-looking decadent, luscious strawberry tart...AND still wanting a little more.

Jarhead
A little older (2 yrs?) but very worthy of mention. Who would have thunk that an irreverent, almost satirical look at war and its idiosyncracies, confusion, chaos and the air of lunacy the elements lend themselves to - would come out to be such an entertaining product? I was impressed that the film did not stoop to make 'political commentary' or show itself to be pro or anti-war, but rather set up the pieces of a manic puzzle within a fantastical and semi-farcical storytelling. The surrealness of the elements around the story lets the viewer alone judge for him/herself what to make of this machine called war, and it is clear to see (to anyone who still has a pulse...) that some thing is definitely skewed. What I really admire is that the film mocks war and wartime ritualization WITHOUT looking or sounding like it is doing so (does that make sense?? I thought not).

Anyway, I loved the script (far removed from memory at this time...) but it had some choice lines and dark, ironic humor throughout it. Jarhead kind of reminded me of a Felliniesque farce: things are so intense, so hyper-real that the viewer empathizes with the main character's confusion and also feels that 'this cannot be real, for it is simply too absurd.' The blurring of lines between the absurdity of reality and the drama of the absurdity are what kept me glued to the seat. I managed to laugh the kind of laugh the mind likes. It is not a loud or obvious chortle, but more like the inner smile of havin' slipped one over the boss at the office, and you best office buddy is the only one in on the joke while all others remain oblivious. It's that delicious.

Great performances from Jake Gyll., Peter Sarsgaard (who was even better in "Shattered Glass") and others. Cool, brusque and absurdist in its perspective. Like one of the characters asks, "What the hell were we figting FOR again..?? I forgot!" 'Oooh, because they TOLD us to. That's IT??',he asks. Authority-schmority! Definitely one of my pics for one of the most original telling of war-time madness. Anyone thinking of enlisting should see this first, mull the muck over...then decide to talk to Uncle Sam (or even Harper these days...) later. Much, much fucking later.

Lakehouse

"And Now for Something Completely Different..."
A soft, sweet love-story. Small, quiet and beautiful it contains one of my newly favourite romantic scenes in a very looong time. I won't give it away, but watching it completely melted me back to the gentle stirrings of budding romance, that tingly soft feeling in your belly you get as you begin to drift into someone's eyes, connecting on such a level that words seem trivial. Truly romantic and emotionally satisfying. Keanu looks very nice and acts understatedly without too much sentimantality as the romantic lead. Sigh. A treat for weary eyes and for wearier hearts. Nice soundtrack too.

Why...Why...Why??

"A 22-year-old man from California has broken the world hot dog eating record by getting through 59 hot dogs in the allotted 12 minutes. Short video news story."

uh. I feel slightly repulsed when I think of how much food has been prepared, set out and mass-produced just so that us (North Americans- lovers of buffet style restaurants and other Roman indulgences...)can gorge on it, overfeed ourselves with unnatural amounts under the guise of social "recreation". Much of the food left on plates or in the long buffet metal trays is discarded. It becomes waste. It pains me to think that (here where I will attempt to NOT hit an old cliche over the head--but who knows!) while others in the world are barely affording and having access to sustenance, day-to-day stuff, we have enough wealth and greed to lick our greasy fingers,overstuff our gullet and throw out too many crumpled bleached white paper napkins (sorry, tree) into the waste-basket and not give it a second thought.

I don't want to be a hypocrite. I have eaten at buffets. Yet, since my first visit it became an increasingly repellent thing, when I realized how centered our lives (and our unhealthy guts) are upon large mass consumption. The ritual that we partook in for my granny on the odd Sunday became a burden to bear until I stopped meeting my family there altogether. In fact, the last time I went (sans granny), I felt a new sense of shame.

Having come off fresh from my Peace and Conflict and Political Science and even Anthropological classes...I had grown a new layer of conscientiousness in that I realized that everything I did (ate, consumed, purchased, and so on...) had political and social consequence.

Maybe it seems small peanuts to worry about how 'wrong' a buffet in some Seattle mall is, but it becomes harder to enjoy putting food in your (ok--my) mouth when those tragic amounts are multiple times more than what I really need or even want to enjoy. Do I think the owner gives a healthy crap about his customers. Hell,no. He wants you to pack on a big plate, so he can sharge you for your larger portion and super-size his wallet (and of course, the higher-ups who run the system). I'm not feeding myself, I'm feeding The Man's pockets and making myself ill in the meantime. We (consumers) seem so devoid of substance, of connection to one another, hell-even to ourselves- that we susbtitute feeling with over-sustenance. Feeling full as to not feel. (I feel flatulent...fatigued at this notion. We are all F'd.

We have everything, but we want more. We have goods, but we need to upgrade. To live life like 'everybody else' does, we need to 'keep up with the J's'...or do we?
How did we all get so brainwashed to rationalize feeling good about gorging (and hell, some even purging to watch their girlish figures, I'm sure!)? It's not the fabulous fifties anymore, we don't have security and don't get a gold-plated watch for our efforts. These are uncertain, unstable times. We do not have the liberties that our early capitalists embodied, the idea that we do have an indefinitie 'sea of fish' is a misconception. It is a lie sold to us in plain sight right there next to the cheese-topped broccoli.

Not that you should not enjoy yourself as long as there are people hungry. I don't believe in martyrdom, that just stirs the Christian-satied pot- not to my taste really. But we should make ourselves aware: who is serving us this stuff? what is it this stuff? did anyone lose their wages, or have injustice imposed on them in order to deliver us this 'stuff'. While we are stuffing our face, we are blissfully, bloatedly unaware of other shite we are buying and injesting, and digesting. If not on our plate, then out above our heads, in our spirits. We are full and yet empty of reason, and of accountability. We do not seem to be adapting to seeing the overview of a hurting world, how we sitting here are actually playing a part in keeping that grand, manipulative machine (oh, Greed) going and churning.

Bottom line for me: it's not right to consume and to waste in such vast, unnecessary amounts. Be happy. Enjoy your food, rejoice in the pleasures of culinary discovery, throw dinner parties, but brother, if you can spare it, please don't fuel a machine that works by serving the needs of some (those who create and sustain the notion of 'need' and consumption) by hurting the chances of others (those who have very litle choice except to eat the GM foods while they sell their crops and their labour to mass-producers, economy controllers from the 'West'). Don't let greed drive a stake through the heart of the world.