(no subject)
I finally caved in and saw Kill Bill 2, and I have to say that Bill's little Clark Kent speech at the end is easily one of the greatest things I've ever heard. Clark Kent is Superman's critique of humanity- does this mean that, in Bewitched, Samantha Stevens's whole dutiful housewife persona is really her witch-self's critique of housewifery? And is Prince Adam really He-Man's critique of aristocracy or closet homosexuality or both? Is Jane Fonda actually Barbarella's critique of activism? I really have to set aside an entire day and just completely re-evaluate everything I watched while growing up.
After countless emails and several days of phone tag I finally got to meet the lovely amadea last night at Charlie's Kitchen. I was so much in awe of her Mia Farrow haircut and her general aura of soon-to-be-ex rock star glamour that I lost the ability to say anything coherent except jhimm's voice is the sexiest thing I have ever heard and oh god I love "reckoning" so, so much. A karaoke night suddenly appeared out of nowhere and took us completely by surprise, and before we knew what was happening we were watching the impossibly long legs of the shoe saleswoman from Berk's on JFK St. touching the ceiling and stretching into positions I had not previously thought possible, and amadea was singing George Michael's One More Try while slyly and ingeniously slipping in a plug for her cd release party. I think unexpected karaoke nights are probably the best thing this life has to offer- if my voice hadn't been completely destroyed by cigarettes and general atrophy I would have definitely taken a shot at Video Killed The Radio Star.
Also last night I overheard some random woman on the street authoritatively declare that money is a creative medium, and I had a sudden, terrible flashback to when I was 16 and reading Atlas Shrugged and credulously, innocently falling in love with the idea of John Galt and his copper-plated cheeks and the romance of laissez-faire. Money is the material shape of the principle that...
When I was 15, I was a Libertarian. When I was 16, I was an Objectivist. When I was 17, I was an anachronism. When I was 18, I was a slave. And now I'm not quite sure what I am- I don't know if I'll ever again experience that full glow of blind faith in a Comprehensive System. Only negations excite me nowadays, and I still get shivers up and down my spine every time I read the end of the Genealogy of Morals-
All great things bring about their own destruction through an act of self-overcoming: thus the law of life will have it, the law of the necessity of self-overcoming in the nature of life- the lawgiver himself eventually receives the call: patere legem, quam ipse tulisti, submit to the law you yourself proposed...
After countless emails and several days of phone tag I finally got to meet the lovely amadea last night at Charlie's Kitchen. I was so much in awe of her Mia Farrow haircut and her general aura of soon-to-be-ex rock star glamour that I lost the ability to say anything coherent except jhimm's voice is the sexiest thing I have ever heard and oh god I love "reckoning" so, so much. A karaoke night suddenly appeared out of nowhere and took us completely by surprise, and before we knew what was happening we were watching the impossibly long legs of the shoe saleswoman from Berk's on JFK St. touching the ceiling and stretching into positions I had not previously thought possible, and amadea was singing George Michael's One More Try while slyly and ingeniously slipping in a plug for her cd release party. I think unexpected karaoke nights are probably the best thing this life has to offer- if my voice hadn't been completely destroyed by cigarettes and general atrophy I would have definitely taken a shot at Video Killed The Radio Star.
Also last night I overheard some random woman on the street authoritatively declare that money is a creative medium, and I had a sudden, terrible flashback to when I was 16 and reading Atlas Shrugged and credulously, innocently falling in love with the idea of John Galt and his copper-plated cheeks and the romance of laissez-faire. Money is the material shape of the principle that...
When I was 15, I was a Libertarian. When I was 16, I was an Objectivist. When I was 17, I was an anachronism. When I was 18, I was a slave. And now I'm not quite sure what I am- I don't know if I'll ever again experience that full glow of blind faith in a Comprehensive System. Only negations excite me nowadays, and I still get shivers up and down my spine every time I read the end of the Genealogy of Morals-
All great things bring about their own destruction through an act of self-overcoming: thus the law of life will have it, the law of the necessity of self-overcoming in the nature of life- the lawgiver himself eventually receives the call: patere legem, quam ipse tulisti, submit to the law you yourself proposed...