Friday, March 31, 2006

From Z, a 1969 film by Costa-Gavras

Concurrently, the military banned long hair on males; mini-skirts; Sophocles; Tolstoy; Euripedes; smashing glasses after drinking toasts; labor strikes; Aristophanes; Ionesco; Sartre; Albee; Pinter; freedom of the press; sociology; Beckett; Dostoyevsky; modern music; popular music; the new mathematics; and the letter "Z"...
...Which in ancient Greek means "He is alive!"



So, I would definitely recommend this movie to my nearest and dearest. Isn't it amazingly fascist and...naive, in a manner, to ban a letter? Though an exceptional boon to unexceptional Scabble players, I have to wonder what the signs at the zoo said. I love such laws because they make rebellion infintely more accessible to the lazy rebel. I am simply not willing to put forth the effort to do anything symbolic anymore... such is the plight of the rebellious citizen in the permissive state.

Honestly though, the banning of the miniskirt is a cause for revolution if I have ever heard one.

Z

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

I Enjoy Wireless Internet.

An elderly Asian man just approached me and asked, "Do you enjoy the wireless internet?"
I replied that I do, in fact, enjoy wireless internet. He paused and thought a little.
"Do you enjoy it right now?"
I replied that I was, in fact, enjoying it at that moment. He paused another moment and had himself another think.
"Can you enjoy it anywhere on campus?"
It occured to me that he was not asking so much about my feelings toward wi-fi, but about its availability.
I explained to him that one could enjoy wireless internet to some degree in a variety of places on campus, but not yet everywhere.

He smiled and got on the elevator.
I smiled and enjoyed the wireless internet.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Garlic

Today, I had the distinct pleasure of ordering Garlic Tofu Triangles at Strawberry Fields. I love Garlic Tofu Triangles; they are my very favorite side dish. It is the garlic that I love, really. In fact, love cannot exist without garlic. Long ago, before love existed, humanity ate bland and unpleasant food, probably in Britain. Then, the first bulbs of garlic were consumed and a fiery passion ignited the minds of the human race. "What word," our distant ancestors pondered, "can describe the unheard of heights of ecstasy that garlic does inspire?" And so, those simple people from those simple times invented love.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

The Second in What Appears to be a Continuing Series of THE GREATEST MOVIE QUOTES EVER

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Despair by Vladimir Nabokov (Revisited)

"If I am not master of my life, not sultan of my being, then no man's logic and no man's ecstatic fits may force me to find less silly my impossibly silly position: that of God's slave; no, not his slave even, but just a match which is aimlessly struck and then blown out by some inquisitive child, the terror of his toys. There are, however, no grounds for anxiety: God does not exist, as neither does our hereafter, that second bogey being as easily disposed of as the first."

It's a little like...

I read V for Vendetta today at the bookstore. It is a little like The Wall meets Atlas Shrugged, but with more explosions.

I liked it, I guess, and I aim to see the movie sometime. In the movie, Hugo Weaving plays V; I expect it to be a little like Priscilla, Queen of the Desert meets The Matrix. I think Natalie Portman is in it too, so it should be something like Star Wars meets Closer.

It was produced by Grant Hill, so it might be a little like Titanic, which would be cool because I think boats are awesome. Grant Hill also produced The Ghost and the Darkness which is about lions and hunters. I hope he brings that to this film. He has the same name as a basketball player, so maybe he will incorporate some basketball.

In the end, I guess that V for Vendetta is going to be a little like The Wall meets Atlas Shrugged meets Priscilla, Queen of the Desert meets The Matrix meets Star Wars meets Closer. So it's like Queen Amidala is a stripper who is the protégé of a cross-dressing rogue computer program while they shift paradigms and blow shit up.

And maybe there will be boats and lions and shit. And maybe basketball.

That'd be awesome.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

The First in what I hope will be a continuing series of THE GREATEST MOVIE QUOTES EVER.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

From Despair by Vladimir Nabokov

"Tum-tee-tum. And once more--TUM! No, I have not gone mad. I am mererly producing gleeful sounds. The kind of glee one experiences upon making an April fool of someone. And a damned good fool I have made of someone. Who is he? Gentle reader, look at yourself in the mirror, as you seem to like mirrors so much."

And Because Death Is Always In Fashion...
RIP Ali Farka Touré

One of Africa's best known musicians, Ali Farka Toure, has died after a long illness in his home country of Mali...Toure, who was in his late 60s, was one of the pioneers of "Mali Blues". He leaves a widow and 11 children.

The Rest of the Article From the BBC.

A song of his is on my sidebar if you're interested. If you would like to hear more of his music, I will email a few choice songs to you at your request.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Can I Tell You A Secret?

I'm not saying that I am the dumbest or the most worthless human being in the world or that you're somehow better than me. I'm just saying that I'm pretty incapable of even the most simple things and that I am utterly lacking in whatever skills you might think I have. There are many, many things that I do badly or that I cannot do. I cannot walk in a straight line, perform surgery, or sing in key. I have difficulty paying attention to whatever task is at hand, remembering appointments, and making intelligent decisions. That isn't to say that I am worthless, I am just of little worth. I'm often capable of making funny remarks. THIS isn't one of them and they are usually only superficially funny. Actually, most of them are offensive and unpleasant when examined, but fortunately few people are engaged enough or intelligent enough to examine my motives. Sometimes I write well, but that skill is severely limited by my limited education, narrow-minded simplifications, bad moods. I am in a bad mood right now and, as you can see, I've been reduced to self-deprecation and, if I do not soon go to the lavatory, self-defecation. See? Another cheap and crude joke. If you even smiled at it, you must have the intellect of a child.

OH! Something new! I am in a bad mood and in the mood to abuse someone. I've pretty much exhausted my self-abuse, but I can always abuse the charlatans who read my blog. What fun! I'm sure I know almost all of them. Hey everybody! Go fuck yourselves, ok? I'm going to keep writing this here blog and you're going to keep reading my trite little gripes until I'm of a better disposition. This could take awhile, but you're not going anywhere. I could scarcely be more unpleasant than I am now without punching babies and torching churches. I could punch a church, but then who suffers? I DO. You're a fool for suggesting it.

Interestingly (a transition word between paragraphs that is, in this case untrue), if you and I were to exchange words right now, I would probably seem no different than usual. That's because I'm generally unpleasant, or at least awkward and off-putting. Still, I'd probably be glad to see you if only for an audience for my misery. I do love an audience. In fact, that is one of my worst traits; I'm kind of a show-off in an understated and unboastful sort of way. For example, if someone is very quiet, I will ramble incessantly and conceivably embarrass them with my jocularity and attention. If, on the otherhand, someone is exceptionally gregarious, I will treat them with contempt and a stony silence. At least I hope that's how I treat them. It's more than likely that these theoretical individuals are getting the wrong idea; I should add to my list of shortcomings that I am often unclear with my body language and that, when explaining myself I am given to what may be termed over-articulation. Like now. This is me being verbose and unpleasant and you're still reading this fucking drivel. My opinion of you has dropped even further, if possible, and because I am fair, I am also positively seething with self-loathing as well.

I should unpack my laundry. It's clean, but crammed into a small bag and it has been for dozens of hours. Two dozen, more or less. It is irretrievably wrinkled now and I will no doubt look like shit for the rest of the week. So it goes, so it always goes. My older t-shirts are getting holes in them and that is only the beginning of my irritation. My shoes have holes in the heels. They were new this winter and now they have holes in them. The holes let in pebbles and water and I make an odd rattling squish with every step. It's repulsive and I find my own footfalls unbearable. To exacerbate the problem, I walked to and from school today in rather wet weather. Whenever possible I walked on gravel. I don't know why I did it. It was cold, 35 degrees, windy, rainy, snowy.

I went to Bar Giuliani to get out of the cold. I ordered a double espresso today. I think I drink it primarily because it is bitter and uncomforting. It also causes me unpleasant convulsions, first as I choke it down, then as the caffeine takes effect. I even waited until is was cold to drink it so that there could be no pleasure in it at all. I am a glutton for punishment and a glutton besides. I ate half a box of Girl Scout cookies last night in the time it takes Brahma to blink. Deep, Deep, Deep! I ate those cookies very quickly indeed.

Speaking of gluttony, I had a delicious sandwich for lunch. It's not that the sandwich was so big. It's just that I ate it in under a minute and, though not very large, neither was it very small. I crammed it into my mouth with an obscene pleasure that I doubt many people could understand. There I go again, debasing my readers. You're debasing yourselves! Think about the trash on this blog and take a look at yourselves. I post news articles without commentary, a testament to my own indecision and unoriginality. I post loathesome entries like this one. I even post entire entries about my bowel movements. You're effectively reveling in my self-loathing and feces. I am disgusted by each and every one of you and I will not give you any further satisfaction. Until I post on this blog again, of course. Stay tuned friends, you can watch the slow deterioration of what once was a fairly serviceable mind.

I feel better already.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Getting My Hopes Up...

We hear that fans of "Arrested Development" can relax. Word is Showtime not only picked up the canceled Fox show but also ordered 26 more episodes . . .

I would totally order ShowTime next year if this is true.

Totally.

The Rest of the Unreliable Article To Which I Pin My Hopes.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Black Bile

I am smothered by a greasy, dusty film that seems to coat and recoat my entire person and the phlegm in my throat has taken on impossible solid properties. I am making cheese in my throat, a sort of paneer or tofu or sponge cake that tastes awful and even has a distinctive odor. It is distinctly unappetizing and I find occupying my own skin to be loathesome in the extreme.

I can feel hair growing on my back and on my hands and I know that shaving my body will only make it worse. The hair will not stop growing and I cannot stand it. Everytime I grimace in disgust I can hear my lips crack and I tongue the deep cut inside my mouth and wallow a little deeper into this nauseated and gnawing misery.

I trimmed my fingernails last night and they are sharp and sensitive and uneven and my ear itches. There is a patch of dry skin behind my ear and I am afraid that I am turning into some kind of reptile. If it spreads I will seek employment with a circus, but only if they provide me my own accomodations; I could not stand to bunk with fellow freaks and I am unashamed to say so to their theoretical faces.

My mouth is...gummy. My tongue is cleaving to the roof of my mouth and I can feel strings of viscous mucous stretching between my teeth. I need to rinse my mouth, but the thought of parting my lips wide enough to even sip any sort of beverage is causing the cracked and tender flesh to squeal--YES, I SAID SQUEAL!--in protest. It is true; my lips have taken on properties of rusty metal and I can hear the most awful and silent squealing when they brush together.

I'm tired and I miss my mother.