Raymond Carver

Cathedral is a collection of short stories by American writer Raymond Carver that is must read material. Carver was part of the short story revivalists crew of the eighties that included John Cheever. The work highlights possibilities of the short fiction medium.

link to an interview with the writer on post title

Happy Birthday Mingus!

Bassist, composer, magician...

Born Under Punches

take a look at these hands! They are covered in hives.

Happy Birthday Billie

Haven't written in a while, been a bit void of inspiration... Just want to wish Billie Holiday a Happy Birthday...

thin red line

Just finished watching the thin red line, just finished reading it too.
More often than not a film version of a novel falls short of doing the story justice and tends to undermine the underlying, fundamental importance of the tale. That is not the case here where the film manages to accomplish much in the way of complementing the novel. Malick and company do the film medium proud in this piece.

Much differs between the novel and the film and in most ways I think the cinematic version plays better; the dialogue in the film is stronger than it is in the novel, the complexity of the subject matter (death) is emotionally and intellectually explored, in my opinion, with more profundity than it is in the novel... Malick makes the green seem greener than it reads in its counterpart. This is meant as no slight against James Jones' novel, it is worth a read, if you enjoy war novels, and it reads quick too. James' novel is sharp and good.

The film does use some hyperbolic voice over, which in my opinion weakens it.

poem

Has this medicine
created the stench
that sticks stubbornly
to me?

fancy, ruled out well

three full days
this funk has shadowed me,
what can it be?

Thoughts of Poe

Gulliver's Stories

Gulliver sat up. Pigeon flames, he thought. Feathers and crowds, that lady throwing stale bread hard and with force, the teeth chattering along the concrete, white spots, sneezes. That was one dream I’d rather forget, but I’ll write it down anyway.

NYT Front Page - Friday 13th, 2009

foto by Ruth Fremson

concerning child starvation in India

yeah

blood is bloody
npr has a concert podcast on itunes that has a 2 hour tom waits concert recorded last year in atlanta... move your ass

ruminations....

we've been watching alot of weeds... Why? Oh, the comfort in television... being in the zone... or out of the zone... television is mostly bad, and weeds is no exception... i guess i like mary louis parker...

happy birthday erin!

Bibliotherapy

An interesting article from 1972 Time Magazine.

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,903355-1,00.html

Sappho

To Andromeda

That country girl has witched your wishes,
all dressed up in her country clothes
and she hasn't got the sense
to hitch her rags above her ankles.
- Sappho
__________________________________________________
Her life has always interested me. Born around 630 BC, an aristocrat, married and had a daughter, Cleis. Due to the obvious advantages of wealth, she was able to dedicate her life to the study of arts on the island of Lesbos - a cultural epicenter at the time. Yes, we associate Lesbos with lesbians, and yes, Sappho did write most of her poetry to women and the love therin; however, she also wrote these same women their wedding songs when they went off and married men. In fact, her poetry was not condemned at the time for homo-erotic sentiments; it is only in these days now that we seem to call her out on this. Perhaps a woman's love for another woman was thought of differently back then - perhaps it was better accepted. Most of Sappho's relationships with women to whom she wrote her poems for, were teacher student relationships. I immediately think of Simone de Beauvoir and her apparent affairs with young women that seeked knowledge (She Came to Stay comes to mind).

Sappho was a lyricist because her poetry, like most poetry back then, was meant to be performed, to be sung and to be heard. However, what's interesting about her poetry is that is written from the perspective of an individual, not a god or muse; the personal vantage point.

I love this line most: "That country girl has witched your wishes." Maybe it's the alliteration of witched and wishes, or maybe it's just the image of a simple girl in checks, driving another mad - creating those dancing figures in the head.

*Note: The information above is from one source, others, might lead you to a different view of her life. We never do know...

fortune cookie

never set the tiger free if you live in the mountain.

Thelonious Monk at Town Hall

wnyc.org has recreated Thelonious' 1959 concert at town hall... was my very first jazz album owned... link on title...
How does he always manage to look so fucking cool?

Blade Runner

I stayed up late last night watching Blade Runner in bed and again I was impressed.

Aside from the voice over. I hate voice over ~ and I hated Harrison Ford's voice over. The film would be better without voice over! Voice over almost ruins Terrence Malick's films for me and I love him.

At any rate, already knowing the ending to the film didn't make it less enjoyable to watch, it was a bit fun.

In general I am not that big of a fan of hard-line Sci-Fi films, but Ridely Scott's film feels more Noir to me.

update: Ralph has just informed me that the director's cut can be viewed without voice-over.

love this outfit...

From The Sartorialist

Words

HIDEBOUND

pronounced HAHYD-bound

adjective

narrow-minded and stubborn

1559, from hide "cattle skin" + past tense of bind. Original reference is to emaciated cattle with skin sticking closely to backbones and ribs; metaphoric sense of "restricted by narrow attitudes" is first recorded 1603.

They were class-bound, hidebound and incapable of expressing their emotions
-- Jeremy Paxman, The English

I'd rather be...

henri toulouse-lautrec

oh henry....

bILLY Collins

nice, nice, very nice

Oh, the sleeping drunkard
Up in Central Park,
And a lion-hunter
In the jungle dark,
And a Chinese dentist,
and a British queen-
All fit together
in the same machine.
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice-
So many different people
In the same device.

-Vonnegut Jr.

for instance

the world is quite the blueberry today. sound the horns.

- Fernanda Valenzuela from San Francisco

Ferry Prince

You are a crook and a lover,
waiting by the window for Jesus.
There is a woman here, crossed
to Brooklyn by ferry. Be good
to her. Talk little of ghosts and
the mention of stale minds; we can
find what no man has looked for.
The opinion is, I would like to be what
you deem me. Deep waters.
She is the first to ask more of you,
the first not to leave.
Cramped in a pigeon hole, sit tight.

a certain weariness

I’m tired of the harsh sea
and of the mysterious earth,
I’m tired of chickens,
We never know what they think
and they look at us with dry eyes,
As though we’re unimportant

Pablo Neruda

Cindy Tells Me

Cindy Sherman
Film Stills



The true self as a mirror of others.

Time

Our ability to measure and apportion time affords us an almost endless source of comfort.

"Synchronize watches at oh six hundred," says the infantry captian, and each of his huddled lieutenants finds a respite from fear in the act of bringing two tiny pointers into jeweled alignment while tons of heavy artillery go fluttering overhead: the prosaic, civilian-looking dial of the watch has restored, however briefly, an illusion of personal control. Good, it counsels, looking tidily up from the hairs and veins of each terribly vulnerable wrist; fine: so far, everything's happening right on time.

"I'm afraid I'm booked solid through the end of the month," says the executive, voluptuously nesting the phone at his cheek as he thumbs the leaves of his appointment calendar, and his month and eyes betray a sense of deep security. The crisp, plentiful, day-sized pages before him prove that nothing unforeseen, no calamity of chance or fate can overtake him between now and the end of the month. Ruin and pestilence have been held at bay, and death itself will have to wait; he is booked solid.

- Richard Yates

Ugliness II

Your good looks will be gone someday. It might be on a Monday, you look in the mirror, your eyes are pulling down, your lips just slits on your face, you cheeks puffy as a gorilla on feeding day. And you feel sorry. Sorry for those times you drugged yourself like a beached whale, sorry for the tenderness, and all those silly faces you vowed to see again, and you didn't. You wished you saw them with your good looks. But now you destined for basements, and nighttime and piano music. You need much to stay breathing. To stay loving is another matter all together. It's a time that comes upon us; we'll know it's time to leave. I'll say I'm going to France, and you to Canada. There's a language there; there it's calm.

Words at their Best

Erstwhile -

former (adjective)

also used as an adverb, formerly

"Before I move, I will tell off my erstwhile friends!"

Created in 1569 from Middle English erst "soonest, earliest" + while.

Begging and Pleading

The Chelsea Hotel, home of vagrants, lovers and wits...

There is debate about the management of the grounds today:
http://legends.typepad.com/

But still, many great songs about it: Leonard Cohen bellows, "I remember you well at the Chelsea Hotel" echoing Janis Joplin's softer side; Bob Dylan steams out "Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands" in his room there; Space Odyssey 2001 is written deep down darkened within those wild walls.

And now they can add yet another to the list.
C+A

For Instance: A Denture

Last night I dreamt anxiety dreams about my teeth. My whole top row began to decay and I was forced into wearing a denture. Only, the denture was ill fitting and made of some kind of metal, bronze maybe. I looked like a monster. You were there and tried to be very supportive but I could tell you were very frightened by the sight of me.

Ivan the Terrible

Ivan the Terrible killing his son
by Ilya Repin

After the death of his beloved Anastasia, Ivan the Terrible grew increasingly erratic in behavior. The heir apparent to the Tsardom of Russia was his son, birthed by Anastasia, also named Ivan.

The elder Ivan, after having noticed his pregnant daughter-in-law wearing a close fitting outfit, beat her in a rage and subsequently murdered her unborn child. When his son confronted him, a fight ensued during which the father bashed his son's temple in with his sceptre. Ivan, 27, would die from his wounds.

President Obama

When the way comes to an end, then change - having changed, you pass through.
- I Ching

bird & rimbaud

The Abe

This photo was taken on a hot date.

a poem

with little severity
each new one turned old
and upon the bridge on the coldest day
in April
with a brain behind her unyielding eye
with a tender smile,
with a teddible ear ache,
confesses to the east river,
in desperate terms

for instance: porcupine

A slim woman arriving at a dance hall, little breasts peeking out; she wants it, but it's raining and her hair looks like a porcupine.

Francis chronicles 1

Francis, you've really done it this time; our camaraderie has been spit on by the goddamn seagulls, and your trousers are wet Francis; yes Francis, I think you've pissed your pants on the way to see me. Just yesterday you licked my slice of bacon and slipped it onto my plate, and today, this day Francis, you've come to tell me you and Dorothy have been had. You've even sucked her toes Francis, jesus. Your letters? Yes, yes I've received your letters. I thought those checks were an effort from you to pay your debts off to me; I mean Francis its been at least 10 years since I gave you that 5,000 for a new car, but I guess the money was for my wife, right Francis? For christ's sake look at me. What, now you're embarrassed you've wet your trousers? What about me Francis? What in heavens name are they going to say about me now that you've done my wife? Look at old Francis Whittier over there, palms in his hands, weeping cause his wife's a loose one. I mean seriously Francis, there's no catholic in me when it comes to forgiving you. The apes need you more than the civilized world does. Okay, fine, run away. I won't be following this time.

the designs of Olly Moss

Olly Moss is a 21 year-old designer from the UK... super duper!

Pierre-Laurent for the Bitter Cold

Ugliness

Golgos weekly posting on all things scabrous...

- Shakespeare's Portrait of Falstaff from HENRY IV -

Henry: [...] there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an old fat man; a ton of man as thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hatch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? Wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? Wherein cunning, but in craft? Wherein crafty, but in villainy? Wherein villanous, but in all things? Wherein worthy but in nothing.

Bob from Gus Van Sant's My Own Private Idaho was inspired by Falstaff.

number 146

These lovely motions of the air, the breeze,
tell me I am not in hell, though round me the dead
lie in their limp postures
dramatizing the dreadful word instead
for lively Henry, fit for debaucheries
and bird-of-paradise vestures

only his heart is elsewhere, down with them
& down with Delmore specially, the new ghost
haunting Henry most;
though fierce the claims of others, coimedela crime
king the Hebrew spectre, on a note of woe
and joined me O.

'Down with them all!' Henry suddenly cried.
Their deaths were theirs. I wait on for my own,
I dare say it won't be long.
I have tried to be them, God knows I have tried,
but they are past it all, I have not done,
which brings me to end of this song.

- John Berryman

Camille Monet sur son lit de mort or Camille Monet on Her Deathbed, 1879

Camille Monet - Claude Monet's only. After her death, he created this...but today, it hangs over his deathbed.