Simple Men.

If i could give one movie director a great big hug, it would be Hal Hartley. (Trust is one of my all-time favorite movies.) Seriously, the man never lets me down. Am currently watching Simple Men and being reminded of what a genius he is:

"But that’s what life’s about.
The adventure, the not knowing.

- No, it isn’t.

I want adventure.
I want romance.

- Ned, there’s no such thing
as adventure. There’s no such thing as romance.
There’s only trouble and desire.

Trouble and desire?

- That’s right, and the funny thing is
when you desire something
you immediately get in trouble,
and when you’re in trouble
you don’t desire anything at all.

I see.

- It’s impossible.

It’s ironic.

- It’s a fucking tragedy, is what it is."

Y'all have 2 days left to watch the thing on Watch Instant before it goes away who knows where for who knows how long, where you may never get to see it! And that, my friends, is the real fucking tragedy... watch it. Watch it now, and watch it good. Learn about subtle metaphors for the fragility of life, relationships and love (trees, fire, stolen motorcycles, not necessarily in that order). Marvel as a nun tackles a policeman, but not in a slapstick way. Listen to Sonic Youth while the cast does an impromptu dance number.

Yes, it's a bit stilted, and theatrical– but that's just his way. Get over it. And watch.


As a bonus, here is my favorite Thomas Newman track from Desperately Seeking Susan, which would fit right in almost any Hal Hartley scene:



Happy summer.

"Muldoon knew."

...this was, absurdly, the most frequently heard phrase by yours truly at a gathering this past July 4th. Visiting friends-of-a-friend were there, drinking lots of Tecate, and at some point Jurassic Park became the topic of conversation, after which there seemed to be no going back. The most contentious point became whether or not Muldoon knew how the raptors were going to behave when he hunted them.



i feel like he certainly wouldn't have willingly walked into his own death (i.e. "knew"), although on the other hand maybe he simply realized his bell was tolling and wanted to go out doing what he loved (observing the habits of large game), and had no idea what he was truly in for.

As the empty red cans multiplied on that end of the table, i wondered if the heated conversation would ever end. On a side note, i would totally wear this T-shirt:



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other highlights from the afternoon:

~A cantaloupe was passed around with a Sharpie. We drew the continents of the world on it, rather competently, until someone passed it to a drunken P., who attempted to draw Asia with non-political lines. When he passed it back, the whole thing had suddenly become unintelligible.

~On the succulent-covered hillside a few feet away from our outdoor table, a lizard's severed tail lay covered in ants. Apparently the cat had had an interesting lunch. i heard that the tail twitched for almost ten whole minutes. It was actually pretty beautiful, covered in precise geometric scale-designs.

~Watermelon slices were marinated in a tequila bath, then sprinkled with black salt. The run-off from this strange polygamy resulted in a sublime concoction which we drank down in tiny cupfuls at the end of the evening with gusto and delighted surprise.

~Halves of navel oranges sat brightly in tree-branch crooks collecting yeast for our host's future beer-making endeavors.

(apparently the theme of the day was fruit... i even brought triple-berry yellow cupcakes.)

So, all in all, not sure if patriotism was the theme of our day but a good, strange time was certainly had by all.

"...because if this pebble has no purpose, then everything is pointless. Even the stars."

Instead of crafting some ambitious Summer Reading Plan, i've decided i want to catch up on all the classic movies i've never seen.

So, after watching Nights of Cabiria a few weeks ago, i fell in love with Giulietta Masina. Netflix suggested (Fellini's) La Strada; i took their suggestion, and got to watch her again, only now this journey led me to Anthony Quinn! Hated him the whole movie, until i realized at the end how great it all really was. Looked back on some of his older stuff and realized that i have a big ol' crush on him. Found this clip (from 1941's Blood and Sand) on YouTube*:


(*please note that this clip was found quite at random and i posted it because: the guitar solo at the beginning? fabulous; her hooded, flimsy, sparkling, noirish shawl? spectacular; and Anthony Quinn? young and smokin'.)

...and then realized how amazing Rita Hayworth was! Have not seen her in a film even once. Jeez, suddenly i am into the golden era of film. Left field, but i am happy to be there. Saw The Seven Year Itch at an open-air cinema last week and could not believe just how hammy and slapstick and goofy it was... Still, enjoyable nonetheless. Looking forward to The Man Who Knew Too Much and The Woman in the Window. Bring on the oldies and goodies, i say.

Marilyn Monroe strawberry cake.

Nothing like feeling like a complete failure to get the shame coursing ruthlessly through your veins. i would say that it makes you feel alive, but there is a deadness there too. Here i am sitting alone on a Saturday night with a ridiculously decorated cake in the fridge and all i want to do is go and smash it on the sidewalk. When you are so depressed that you sleep until 11:00 and then spend hours baking and procrastinating until no one wants to come pick you up anymore, what else can you do? Write a self-indulgent blog post just to feel even more ridiculous. If anyone even reads this, i sincerely hope that there is some measure of scorn felt so as to mirror mine. Hopefully one day i will be a normal fucking person and cease to be a prisoner to this apartment, and my mind. That's something to hope for, at least.