watching spongebob squarepants
i awoke to
to spongebob's boss mr krabs
you've just lost your brain priviledges!
a bard's eye view of love, life and psychotronic cinema
okay, it ain't like i didn't have a decent year. just can't think of, nor care to enumerate, a list of 'best of' anything. i like reading those lists. one of the pleasures of lists such as 'best of' is my tendency to combat it. perhaps that's simply human nature. we will always think, 'what about x, or you forgot y'.
this is the time of year for list-making. the best of. . .2007, and yet i can't think of a fucking thing. not that the year has been bad for me. hardly. tho nothing sticks out. without sounding like too much of a pessimist every time i open the paper or log on to the net there are stories that confirm that the world is pretty fucked up and getting more so each day.
i know that the allegedly, supposedly, really final cut of blade runner is already available on dvd. just so, walking down k st mall past the crest theater, a local arthouse, i see a poster up for the allegedly, supposedly, really final cut of the film. it's not playing yet, but i guess it's on its way.
nothing can beat the pure pleasures of browsing the stacks of the indie bookstore. which is what i did last night, stopping at time-tested books on the walk home from work. sac has it's fair share of independents. there are three within walking distance of my house. a lot of the pleasure is finding something that you were not looking for. plus, holding the book or chap in yr hand is so much more satisfying than looking at a jpeg of the book cover online.
for the past week or so i've been listening to neon bible by the arcade fire. i'm totally new to the band. anna bought the cd a couple of months ago. i've heard their song 'no cars go' somewhere before that, but had not until now listened to a whole album. now i have and let me tell you the band is fucking outstanding. i don't know the drummer's name but he's one of the better percussionists i've heard in a long time. i love the singer's voice.
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
saturday night anna and i were watching tim burton's
the birthday party for nicholas was at a pizza place called chuck e. cheese. wherever you live i'm sure you have places just like this. for the kids it was a real bacchanalia. for the adults the scene was a house of horrors. oh man. but nicholas loved every second of it. and i just finished the last of the really awful cheese pizza. it was a tuff job, wolfing that pie down. but i was up for the task. and did it with gusto.
today is nicholas's 3rd birthday. we are having a quiet celebration and saving the big party for saturday. man, what a wild, strange, thrilling trip it's been. learned much as nicholas grows and becomes the person he's going to be thru these 3 years. some humbling. some exasperating. all unforgettable and i would not change a thing for all the world.
one of the books i've been slowly reading is stet by jose kozer tr. by mark weiss. then today find that anny ballardini points out a tribute to kozer. i'm monolingual. have no gift for languages but i clicked thru the tribute just the same.
last winter i caught roman polanski's first feature knife in the water on ifc. i didn't know it was by polanski until i looked it up. i was so riveted by the experience of the film that i had to know who directed it. also, i hadn't watched the opening minutes to get the credits. neither did i catch it at the end. which is a long way of saying that when i read that the movie was directed by a 29 year old polanski and it was his first feature my mouth dropped. not because i think polanski is not a gifted filmmaker, he is, but that this film is perfect, absolutely perfect. not a note wasted.
below is a clip from one of my favorite tv shows miami ink which is about - you guessed it - a tattoo shop in south beach.
we create the gods in our images
w.b. keckler is asking you a bunch of questions and wants your answers
p. and i were having lunch at this kinda new, very french place whose specialties are crepes. anna and i discovered it when we were downtown a few weeks ago. midday in the middle of the city, and it is prime real estate for people watching. we watched 2 cops on bicycles roust a homeless guy and the homeless guy got so pissed he threw his bedroll at the police.
learned over the weekend that an icon from the 1970s, evel knievel, died on friday, nov. 30 at age 69. as famous for his spectacular crashes as the successes of his stunts, knievel was a fixture of pop culture with his trademark cane and red, white and blue jumpsuit and helmet. as i boy i even had the evel knievel action figure with wind-up cycle and the tin lunch box. there was even a film starring knievel as evel knievel, viva knievel!
CAConrad talks with ken rumble about rumble's history of depression. it is a useful and important subject since all too often mental illness is regarded as a taboo topic, and worse, romanticized in popular culture as being the curse of the artist.
my cold is sticking to me like peanut butter matted to my hair. at least my voice, still raspy, is returning and despite a nose flowing like a faucet and an ever-present hack, not doing too bad.
i'm wide awake now even the scratchy throat i was bitching about earlier turned into a full-blown cold. i'm wide awake because i've slept 14 hrs last night, about 8-9 hrs than i normally sleep. i was zonked out for the duration. now my voice has gone south so i sound like a cross between harvey fierstein and tom waits. i think i sound sexy and street. anna thinks i sound like a yeti in the midst of a bowel movement.