Friday, June 25, 2021

the greatest p.i. show - jim rockford was a bodhisattva

Tuesday, June 22, 2021

 monster hunter [2020]

it's been a while since i've written about the pleasures of watching a really bad movie.  i was once an avid dvd collector.  i still do cherish my discs, & my few vhs tapes.  i have a working dvd player & vcr.  yet, i find myself drawn toward streaming platforms where my viewing is now scandinavian noir cop shows, hk/chinese action films, s. korean zombie movies, u.s. & u.k. cop shows, canadian sitcoms et al.  least to mention deep rabbit hole youtube dives too.  i need several lifetimes to watch all that i want to watch!

& yet, sometimes a movie comes along, grabs me by the throat, & drags me thru its narrative paces.  monster hunter is such a flick.  i watched this pic this afternoon.  why?  because it stars one of my favorite action movie heroines, milla jovovich.  she is the bee's knees.  i dig her very much.  maybe it's because of her eyes.  she as a screen presence that belies the video game cum movie fodder.  she started in action movies as project alice in the resident evil franchise.  helmed by her filmmaker husband paul w.s. anderson these zombie flicks are about as scary as a moldy loaf of bread.  it's the action set pieces, the fx, the wild art direction, & the talents of jovovich that make these movies so fun.

this flick is no exception.  written & directed by anderson the movie is based on yet another video game.  how could i tell?  because the putative monsters from 'another world within this one' can only be killed by hunters like jovovich.  even the mighty fire power of the u.s. military cannot fell these fiends.  only a warrior skilled in martial arts, wielding a sword the size of a blue whale jaw, can kill these beasts.  jovovich is an army captain ranger in the middle east.  she leads her elite squad thru the desert only to find these weird markers stretched out in the barren wastes of the desert.  a sudden, fierce lighting storm lights up these markers.  lo!  our gang is trapped & then transported to a bleached out desert of sand dunes.  

whoa!  hold on!  what's that coming under the sand towards them?  a monster?  no shit!  suddenly these elite soldiers are greased one by one leaving only jovovich alive.  why is she the only survivor?  because her husband is making the film & she is the star!  but, hell, like i said, i love these kind of movies & i am a big admirer of milla jovovich.  i can watch her in almost any movie.  almost.  still, she finds her way to safety & befriends a local monster hunter played by another grand action movie hero, tony jaa.

do they get along?  does peanut butter go great with chocolate?  but not after doing some bang up fighting with each other.  then, as a peace offering, jovovich gives jaa a few bites of a hershey's chocolate bar who in turn gives jovovish a flagon of water.  they don't speak the same languages but they are friends for life.  more importantly, monster hunters for ever.  & so it goes until we find other locals led by the great ron perlman who can speak the queen's english.  good luck monsters!  because they are gonna get their asses handed to them.

or do they?  i'm not telling.  i will say that the plot is easily predictable & if you haven't figured out that this movie is based on a video game you will once you come to the conclusion.  as for video games, i admit to not being a player, but i think they are a formidable form of art.  like poems & movies.  sometimes video games get adapted to some fine films.  & sometimes, they are turned into movies like this one.  fully enjoyable.  goofy & fun.  starring kick ass action heroes. perfect summer matinee fare.  

Friday, June 18, 2021

exhaustion after a hard day's work of sleeping

 




Monday, June 14, 2021

post pandemic world

now that we are emerging from the long dark tea time of the soul [phrase from douglas adams] & we stray out of our homes into the sunlight of a newly awakened day can we pretty please for heaven's sake with sugar on top keep at least some poetry readings on zoom & other digital platforms?  i have attended more readings this past year than i ever could even if i had time money & means to travel to all these wonderful events held around the world.   sure, i know, being face to face with the readers in an audience can't be bettered but damn!  i love the intimacy of these digital readings for i can really focus on the words & music of the poetry.  i have traveled the world via digital technology to readings that i couldn't possibly attend in the physical world.  so please i beg of you please keep at least some of your reading series digital so that those of us who don't live in say s.f. or nyc or aukland or london or melbourne or belfast or timbuktu or tokyo or l.a. can attend these readings we citizens sans borders of the international republic of poetry.  

poetry is not a career.

there are lots of jobs poets can do

i.e. tax auditor, accountant, public school teacher, research scientist, plumber, finish carpenter, minister, public defender, even - gasp! - hedge fund manager

the sky is the limit for careers poets can have

poetry is not an occupation

poetry is an obsession

a way of happening.  a mouth, as auden said

a life

Saturday, June 12, 2021

 anna asked me if i wanted some macabre info.  i said, yes.  she said, according to this [she must've been consulting some actuarial table] you will die at age 90 in 2057.  that's pretty generous.  i'm surprised i've made it to my mid 50s.  & for you young folks out there who might be reading this let me add to what all your older relatives said about the passage of life.  it goes so fucking fast.  for sure, i started this blog in '04 when i was a relatively spry 37 year old poet.  i am now fiftyfuckingfour.  yes, those years traveled faster than the speed of light.  but as for my age & date of my death.  i don't worry or think about it.  i would like to see our civilization at the end of this century & the beginning of the 22nd C.  ain't gonna happen.  i'll be lucky to see the middle of this new century.  & yet, i am not one to be depressed by my death.  it happens to all of us even if we might harbor the lie that somehow we are the one to escape death & live forever.  i am grateful for life.  i am grateful to be a sentient being in a relatively prosperous age.  the miracles of technology are not to be poo-pooed.  yes, these marvels of innovation are used for evil purposes.  but they are also forces for good.  i shit you not.  & just step back a little to look at the broader landscape.  you might find that life is a little better than it was even 20 years ago.  but i dunno.  i am not cassandra.  i am not an oracle.  i think, as rene char said about the poet, 'he bursts the bonds of what he touches.  he does not teach the end of bonds.'  take that for what you will.  i feel a relatively spry 54.  & yet i know i am growing older.  even on zoom meetings i wonder who that old man with the resting bitch face is in the rectangle with my name.  will i make it to 90?  i hope so.  i want to see how nick becomes a human being.  i want to know his own family.  but i want to make that journey only if anna is with me.  for she is the force that drives the green fuse thru the flower.  for me, every created thing is poetry.  as robert frost said, poetry is a condition of living; not an occupation.  but hell, should i not live to 90 what of it.  i aim for quality over quantity.  this is the only life i know.  there won't be another one.  & in this life i have been given an intellect & tools & language.  holy fucking shit.  how lucky is that.

Friday, June 11, 2021

it's friday nite & you want to see lorde come save this freaking world

Thursday, June 10, 2021

i love the night sounds of the city: the ocean waves of the freeway traffic, the caterwaul of police, fire & ambulance sirens, the clack of a passing truck, the still air at 3:00 a.m., the doppler chop of police helicopters on patrol, the murmurs of the occasional passerby, the whir of the blowing wind thru the trees, the critters, racoons & opossums, on their midnight rounds, a poet who should be in bed