ten good things
10. kids cursing. my neighborhood is crawling with ten year old hooligans, all boasting away about how tough they are, how much they rule at whiffle ball, how much the eagles suck this year, and so forth. and like all ten year old boys, their language is gloriously atrocious. if they can fit a "motherfucker" somewhere, they're not only gonna do it-- they're gonna OVERDO it. in my own childhood-- despite being the token cautious "we're gonna get caught" kid-- i had quite the potty mouth myself. as did all of my friends. today, when i hear kids using atrocious language, it makes me really nostalgic. cursing children are a part of everyday life, but you never find any record of them in tv, movies or popular culture. that's because child profanity is one of our final taboos-- one i find too arbitrary and unoffensive to muster up any ethical objection to (they're just words, y'all). so, instead, i greet the sound with surprising affection, having re-discovered a morsel of my own upbringing that weaseled its way out of hallmark-style exploitation.
9. my new pair of clarks. i got a darker shade of brown than the one in the link. they were expensive (100 bucks), but i'm really glad i bought them. they're comfy, i can wear them anywhere, and it took only a couple of hours to break them in. awesome.
8.
the polite smile of setsuko hara is also somewhat of a mask. in the films of yasujiro ozu, her image embodies the everyday longing that so inspired the director. and that longing always emerges with a smile. in the hands of a lesser actor, this gesture would seem back-handed or phony. but with the natural grace of setsuko, it looses its function as an act of concealment. the smile is the bittersweet offering of someone trying to be happy. it is a gesture of mutual becoming-- longing and goodwill emerge simultaneously and move in opposite directions... a window into a humble interior illuminates one end, while a barrier built upon good intentions retreats to the other.
7. us urban dwellers occupy a landscape made of endless boxes. brick by brick and building by building, we are drenched in corners and angles. one of these corners-- the one at 30th and chestnut in philadelphia-- always manages to catch my eye. it's the nice interplay of such boxes-- the giant, totalitarian box of 30th street station... the functional architecture of a parking lot high-rise... the dancing, easter-egg brick mosaic a block away... and an over-lit parking lot beneath it, one story down from where i walk. for my money, in the land of mundane urban spaces, it's a bona-fide broadway boogie woogie...
6. good songs that become samples in other good songs. you know, like, when steely dan's "your favorite foreign movie" came on in the supermarket the other day and, in addition to loving it, i was also reminded of de la soul's "eye know," which samples it. good song = good evocation. what could be better than that?
people need to write more songs about foreign movies...
5.
those little stippling portraits in the wall street journal. not that i'm particularly partial to alan greenspan, or the wall street journal for that matter, but whatever...
4. caetano veloso's album joia is totally underrated. it fuses many of the impulses of his previous work (the psychedelia, the occasional avant-garde flourishes, the western pop influences) into something distinct and yet casual. it has a haziness to it that reminds me of his early, more bossa nova-style stuff, but there is nothing aesthetically conservative about it. it's been on alot lately in my studio, and it makes for a very encouraging backdrop to my recently-rediscovered artistic inclinations. he also covers "help!" by the beatles, and does something really wonderful with it:
"help!" mp3, for your listening pleasure
3. apologies if i've already told you this, but you all should spend some time with the recently released val lewton horror box set. i've seen six of the films so far, and they're shockingly good. isle of the dead is one of the least famous in the cycle, but i think it's one of the best. it features a fantastic and understated bela lugosi, a sharp and philosophical script, loads and loads of spooky atmosphere, and a few genuinely freaky sequences. it's also a rather sophisticated look at disease and paranoia, and how both are manipulated by people in power. it maintains a quiet, foreboding atmosphere for its entire 80-odd minutes, ends on a chilly note, and is picture perfect for the month of october.
2. jack palance's head. it's like god took a size XL skull, and tried to wrap a size M amount of skin around it. it's awesome...
(***side-note: the opening credit sequence of robert aldrich's the big knife is, without question, the most loving ode to jack palance's head ever put on film.***)
1. this appeals to me on so many levels...
9. my new pair of clarks. i got a darker shade of brown than the one in the link. they were expensive (100 bucks), but i'm really glad i bought them. they're comfy, i can wear them anywhere, and it took only a couple of hours to break them in. awesome.
8.
the polite smile of setsuko hara is also somewhat of a mask. in the films of yasujiro ozu, her image embodies the everyday longing that so inspired the director. and that longing always emerges with a smile. in the hands of a lesser actor, this gesture would seem back-handed or phony. but with the natural grace of setsuko, it looses its function as an act of concealment. the smile is the bittersweet offering of someone trying to be happy. it is a gesture of mutual becoming-- longing and goodwill emerge simultaneously and move in opposite directions... a window into a humble interior illuminates one end, while a barrier built upon good intentions retreats to the other.
7. us urban dwellers occupy a landscape made of endless boxes. brick by brick and building by building, we are drenched in corners and angles. one of these corners-- the one at 30th and chestnut in philadelphia-- always manages to catch my eye. it's the nice interplay of such boxes-- the giant, totalitarian box of 30th street station... the functional architecture of a parking lot high-rise... the dancing, easter-egg brick mosaic a block away... and an over-lit parking lot beneath it, one story down from where i walk. for my money, in the land of mundane urban spaces, it's a bona-fide broadway boogie woogie...
6. good songs that become samples in other good songs. you know, like, when steely dan's "your favorite foreign movie" came on in the supermarket the other day and, in addition to loving it, i was also reminded of de la soul's "eye know," which samples it. good song = good evocation. what could be better than that?
people need to write more songs about foreign movies...
5.
those little stippling portraits in the wall street journal. not that i'm particularly partial to alan greenspan, or the wall street journal for that matter, but whatever...
4. caetano veloso's album joia is totally underrated. it fuses many of the impulses of his previous work (the psychedelia, the occasional avant-garde flourishes, the western pop influences) into something distinct and yet casual. it has a haziness to it that reminds me of his early, more bossa nova-style stuff, but there is nothing aesthetically conservative about it. it's been on alot lately in my studio, and it makes for a very encouraging backdrop to my recently-rediscovered artistic inclinations. he also covers "help!" by the beatles, and does something really wonderful with it:
"help!" mp3, for your listening pleasure
3. apologies if i've already told you this, but you all should spend some time with the recently released val lewton horror box set. i've seen six of the films so far, and they're shockingly good. isle of the dead is one of the least famous in the cycle, but i think it's one of the best. it features a fantastic and understated bela lugosi, a sharp and philosophical script, loads and loads of spooky atmosphere, and a few genuinely freaky sequences. it's also a rather sophisticated look at disease and paranoia, and how both are manipulated by people in power. it maintains a quiet, foreboding atmosphere for its entire 80-odd minutes, ends on a chilly note, and is picture perfect for the month of october.
2. jack palance's head. it's like god took a size XL skull, and tried to wrap a size M amount of skin around it. it's awesome...
(***side-note: the opening credit sequence of robert aldrich's the big knife is, without question, the most loving ode to jack palance's head ever put on film.***)
1. this appeals to me on so many levels...