Monday, May 05, 2008

Fuck Obama


I have a fairly limited range of political issues that I care about, and most of the time these issues rarely are in play during an election, or, are in play but separated by many degrees. For example, abortion. A president can't overturn Roe v Wade (or O'Connors undue burden formulation, or whatever the present reformulation is) no matter how much he hates women or atheists.1 So voting for a president because of a pro-choice stance is sort of like, well, voting for someone who is a Yankee fan, he'll root for the same team but ain't going to take the field. An example of a sometimes "in play" political issue might be, let's say, Supreme Court nominees. 2004's disaster yielded the ascension of 2 spanking new replacement justices to the highest court. Back then, I was deathly afraid of what could be; today, I live in constant, deathly fear. 08 likely will see at least one Supreme Court seat unseated, because you know good ole JP Stevens probably is waiting for this Nov's election before announcing his retirement; he old. But the Democrats look to be a lock this time around - and worse case, McCain seems to goose-step less to an ultra conservative agenda - so whatever possible makeover in the Supreme Court seems kind of safe.

Anyway, pretty much the only issue I give a shit about this national election cycle is health care. I would not instantly say health care typically is an issue the President has a lot of sway over - standard disclaimer of the primacy of the legislature, the federal bureaucracy, big business and so forth. Yet, and never mind that the USA is way overdue for a comprehensive reassessment of her health care policy, Clinton's quest for the nomination lifts health care to be an issue above the standard campaign MO of over-promise-ignore-delivery.

Or, I should say the only thing I hope to see is universal health care. Mandated universal health care. Which means, for me: Hillary or bust. The other top candidates - and being politically unsophisticated I will describe as thus - approach health care from chiefly the affordability angle. McCain does not care about expanding/universal coverage; and controlling cost is sufficient for him, and his voters. Key buzzword includes "market competition." Which I assume is self explanatory, but if not: status quo.

Obama-wise. First, audacity of hope. Hope, like opium, is religion for the masses.2 I cringe whenever I hear that empty word. And then, it is especially incongruous that Obama shits on small town folks for their refuge in guns and religion, when his calling card to national attention, the 04 Dem Convention warm up keynote, is first "hope" and now with his campaign, another false idol, "change."3 Yeah, you miserable unemployed small town sons and daughters of bitches, gather round the fire and sing your employment spirituals: I get no kick from champagne, mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all... That's hope in the face of difficulty, in the face of uncertainty, the audacity of hope! Oh, de doo da day.4

I understand "hope" or "change" are standard political doubletalk, all candidate steep in that rhetorical bullshit, but much of the Obama phenomena springs from or is premised on it. Obama tells that the least fortunate, the most oppressed, the legions of hopeless should/need to look to a belief of things unseen or a belief that better days are ahead; that they should not expect government to solve all their problems; that people can/should rely instead on mysterious deep in the bones sense that a slight change in government priority could lead to a decent shot at life with doors of opportunity staying open - that, to me, is wholly repellent, and makes Obama a complete letdown. Most people are being crushed to hopelessness. Most Americans are being crushed to hopelessness. Hoping is not audacious. Which is probably to say that I am colored against Obama from the get go and generally.

Anyway, fine, it is unfair to cherry pick apart Obama's statements. Let's cut to the chase. Obama pays lip service to universal health care but he ain't down with mandated universal health care.5 As criticism, Obama implies that mandated universal health care, and of course Clinton, somehow stinks because it "force[s] people who don't have health insurance to buy it."6 Obama mysteriously contends universal health care means anyone who wants it can get it. Again, affordability. Let's assume the hope Obama was referring to was not some stupid blind optimism but he is talking about something more substantial. Oh wait, at least in this instant, we can't. You can pick it: disingenuous, naive, dumb, delusional, weak, mental ill, out of touch, elitist, simple; regardless, it's not good for Obama. People do not have and will not get health insurance for a variety of reasons. Affordability may be one part of it; but even if health insurance was affordable, without a mandate, the rest of the varieties may, and in fact does(!), prevail in folks staying uninsured. And while I would not mind letting those who have different priorities suffer when they confront their health crisis, unfortunately their suffering bear adversely against those responsible minded health insurance enrolled folks.7 Dude, let's eradicate the slander that says a sick person with no health care does not want health care.8

There it is. Obama as of recently had been front running the Democratic nomination process.9 It is a fair perception that Clinton's admission that a possible enforcement mechanism for mandated health care would be wage garnishment would hurt her chances, because wage garnishment - just the words itself - is scary, unpopular and confusing. Back in the what would be the eventual dark days of 2004, I expressed admiration for Kerry speaking out for minimum wage hikes and increased fuel economy even when it put him in a more difficult position with the general electorate and his traditional democratic base, because despite the political risk he stood behind his belief. I feel the same way for Clinton in this instance. It is mandated universal health care or bust for her too. I accept that political reality that compromise based government and big business pressure would sap some of the teeth from Clinton's health care plan. But a discussion that initiates from Obama's watered down starting position, those bitter small town losers will stay wallowed in their frustrations. A Obama nomination win would be the ruin of a beautiful dream/hope of universal health care, a dream that Clinton has fought on behalf of and urged the hopeless to expect and demand.10

Now, saying/writing "fuck Obama" might seem extreme or hyperbolic.11 But as mandated universal health care is the only thing I care about this national election cycle and a nomination of Obama is going to fuck up a fundamental step forward for America and Americans: in seriousness, fuck Obama.12


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1. (Masculine because, so far, the top seat has been all dudes.)
2. (Whee! Which really, in terms of scope and length of detrimental effect, is the more accurate order of relating things.)
3. (
http://thepage.time.com/transcript-of-obamas-remarks-at-san-francisco-fundraiser-sunday/ has the small town snafu, which I feel was overblown but a legitimate criticism against Obama. http://www.pbs.org/newshour/vote2004/demconvention/speeches/obama.html has the keynote speech. The breaks aren't the best with the keynote link but google on your own if you want a more natural formatting.)
4. (Blazing Saddles.)
5. (Never mind that a significant piece of his health care scheme is mandated (for the kids) and the penalties associated with preventing people from scamming under his system sounds mandate-esque.)
6. (From Jan 2008 debate between Clinton and Obama I believe, but probably repeated in some variation in one of the hundreds of other debates since. Which ain't saying I don't want more debates, because I do. And yes, that's a shot at Obama.)
7. (Okay, I assume none of you are as disingenuous, naive, dumb, delusional, weak, mental ill, out of touch, elitist, simple, etc. and can figure out the non affordability reasons and how the non insured would severely strain the system for the insured. Of course, if the answer is not coming too easy for you, no prob, ask and I will reply.)
8. (Modesty aside, I so wish Clinton would say something like this somewhere.)
9. (Ha. Recently = as of three week or so ago, which was, like, when I started this, I don't mind if you characterize this as such, screed.)
10. (By the way, despite favoring Clinton on the health care thing, single payer health care should be the way to go. And yes, go left! HR 676.)
11. (Though not the motley racists, radicals, political saboteurs, simpletons, and everyday, common sensed or not, folks who have already gotten i-mileage from the phrase, as I googled.)
12. (I'd be open if you have dirt on Clinton too. Or counterpoints for some Obama loving. Though at this point, I'm ready to go third party.)



Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Venge, Then Revenge


Treat time. Olivier Assayas will be getting the retro treatment soon at the Anthology Film Archives.*1 Starting in February most of his big old movies will be screened. L'Eau froide or Cold Water is just about my most favorite movie and I catch it as best I can whenever the flick gets locally shown. First, Virginie Ledoyen is the blistering awesome-est. I gots this huge cinematic hard on for her, or for her in her good roles which probably comprises of her roles with the late Ed Yang and Chabrol too. Which more or less centers on her playing somewhat teen roles - does that point too much to a pedophile leanings? Yikes. Why has she taken so many shit roles for the past roughly 10 years is the better question. And Ledoyen was around the 20 years range and acted younger.*2


Cold Water has claimed the highly privilege/envious top spot in a couple of years for my most favorite flicks of particular years list. And it will not be much limb testing to say it will pole position again this year too, if I catch it. Yeah, that's how meticulous my favorite movie list are compiled. But there are a couple of movies that I am keen on seeing, such as Late August, Early September and which I have resisted watching for the longest on DVD only because I want to see it in the soul-growing, silvery-imaged darkness.*3 Alice and Martin, written by Assayas for Andre Techine, a director who I do not mind keeping up on. And Les Destinees sentimentales, this one directed by Assayas, which is for more residual interest than any heightened expectation of a masterpiece. I happen to hold some hope for Olivier Assayas as spearheading the future of French movies.*4 But Assayas is hit or miss enough to play it cool for his period epic escapade Les Destinees. I really like Irma Vep, his - for now - best known work, but I am not crazy about it. But maybe that betrays more of a so-so attitude toward Maggie Cheung than much else. Which means I have not seen Clean, and will likely skip unless my arm gets twisted.

Cold Water - if this needs to be said, and probably it does not - is more tales of alienated turbulent youth goodness. The movie was made as part of a commission by French television for directors to shoot something about teen living set during the directors' teen years.*5 There is a boy who likes a girl, seriously out of touch parental units/authority figures, and more other youths copiously reveling or overindulging (depending on your prude-ar) in that brief window of teen freedom. The boy – I will say if you promise not to read too much into it - can be a sort of Assayas stand in with the substantial autobiographical elements in the movie. More, there is sensational hand held camera work and fabulous of-the-period popular tunes. And Virginie is out of the world hot.

Yet, most recently I was critical after my last screening Cold Water. My slam is essentially the too neat way scenes and the music sync. Say a scene would commence, an anonymous dude tokes up, just as the needle drops for another perfectly picked touchstone song, that pokes me as a challenge to the documentary-like or naturalistic quality Assayas seemed to shoot after. Nitpicking me, that bit of directorial decision making/editing felt artificial, or over staged. And this even with my emotions memory still unhinged years later by the bacchanal rawness from the swirling party that is the movie's centerpiece.

Okay, this, and I assume for the, holiday, H (for a hip happening cat) sent me a book, The Prophet written by Kahlil Gibran. Here is more than a mite quibble: progressively, I found the book bothersome. A passage:

And then a scholar said, "Speak of Talking."
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words many indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
Uh... wha?! Slim as the book is, it is all this prophet dude floating prose poetics to the local village rubes on subjects such as love, giving, pain, the above scholar's choice talking, and more. I mean, if the prophet cannot stop yammering, even as he more or less cautions against it, that is a major disconnect. Do not do as I do, just do as I say: ain't that always the truth.

The Prophet of course is set up by common folks requesting: "speak to us and give us of your truth." Which I do not buy, prescribing somewhat to the "if I tell you, your half attention will half learn" school.*6 So there's that discontent for the villagers' perspective. And my views of the prophet is as wintry. Polonius comes to mind. Often played for laughs that overshadows Shakespeare's more or less practical mindedness and poetry, including gems "neither a borrower or a lender be" and "to thine ownself be true", Polonius is the out of touch, know-it-all windbag. Though the prophet is not quite Polonius. But protracted advice/truth dispensing done with a sort of preachy over seriousness/sincerity teeters closer to Polonius doddery the deeper I got into The Prophet.

Here's the deal. Of love: "When love beckons to you, follow him, / Though his ways are hard and steep." Love. What happens if you aren't sure if it is love or not that beckons? I can imagine that to be a better question to many. Or of marriage: "You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore. / You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days. / Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God." Except for when you get a divorce!

Anyway, I won't belabor the less than positives except for this one last thing. The Prophet with the poetic styling and drawings had me thinking about Will Blake, a dude who believed he had a bit of a prophet in him. In turn, Will Blake leads to Stephen Crane. Crane wrote a poem which goes:
In heaven,
Some little blades of grass
Stood before God.
"What did you do?"
Then all save one of the little blades
Began eagerly to relate
The merits of their lives.
This one stayed a small way behind,
Ashamed.
Presently, God said,
"And what did you do?"

The little blade answered, "Oh my Lord,
Memory is bitter to me,
For, if I did good deeds,
I know not of them."
Then God, in all His splendor,
Arose from His throne.
"Oh, best little blade of grass!" He said.
Out of the few possessions of mine I have given away, the only regret is passing along my collection of Stephen Crane poems. First, I love his poetry. Then, I think he's a crucial figure in American poetry, the third leg of the Whitman and Dickinson trinity.*7 Last and mainly, it's not easy to get hold of another copy of his out-of-print Complete Poems. And I bet, I'm going to use a bad word but I mean it only in the most gentle and affectionate manner, that bitch who has my copy don't read or care about it.*8 In addition, I do not know why it is (any more than a child might), but grass is a key component to the 1800s American poetry landscape, as Whitman and Dickinson also make prominent use of those narrow fellows in prominent pieces.

But to me, the lessons of truths, whatever that means, especially as expressed through poetry, is some sort of dialog. Yeah, the words are fixed once written or published or whatever, but at the same time the words and meanings take life of their own, shifting with time, the reader's experience/intuition, and so forth. Once read, a reader comes away with something (good or bad), yet something new or different will come out (gooder or badder maybe) if the piece is read again, or even merely remembered. A conversation, a give and take, a something. Crane says something about humility that I think is kind of cool, - if I were to wildly guess at the above poem. But what happens if there is, in fact, no good deeds to be remembered, does that still warrant praise to that ashamed blade? What is precisely so less best about relating the merits of one's life? As well, does modesty ruin a job interview? And somehow my experience - thus far - teaches: humility is the worst laid plan for getting laid. Not to mention a certain beauty to the composition, if your definition of poetry includes free verse. The Prophet, on the other hand, is too laid out or coerced, or too much of a closed system. Which is not saying that what the prophet tells is not complex, but maybe more: if it is complex, then it is complex, with little wiggle room for the reader to find for him/herself.*9

Which also does not mean I do not like or appreciate The Prophet. Pretty much a couple of pages in, my immediate thought was that it was wonderful and perhaps this or that person would dig as much as I am enjoying Gibran's prose work. My hangups aside, it was, first page to the end, fun and effective enough. "For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. For even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning." Nice. I love this: "Dreaming of the person you want to be is wasting the person you already are." Except Kurt Cobain said it.

But what I meant to say is that I will forward the book to a buddy of mine, and for the most part, I (re-)gift things only if I am more or less wild about them. And also, so I'll always know where it is.*10

This weekend I caught Techine's newest, The Witnesses. One critic - who I normally avoid and more or less loathe - offered this on Techine and Assayas, respectively: classical humanism vs cliquish elitism.*11 As well, this diss: "Cold Water indulged adolescent confusion in a coming-of-age story that fetishized small-town kids’ alienation." And know what? I don't disagree. I will say there is a bit of a narrower scope/focus issue when it comes to the Techine I have seen, but he's easily and way more accomplished than Assayas.*12 Assayas has (perhaps more, and perhaps too much) ambition, but he has (perhaps) not removed himself from his movies, there is a certain look-at-me-ness, to the point where his movies are not quite there just yet. Yet Cold Water still amazes/impresses me, and hopefully I can make time to see it again. But yeah, Witnesses is, qualifications free, pretty good.

Weep time. Manoel de Oliveira will get the primo retro treatment at the Brooklyn Academy of Music soon. In March, a pinata full of Oliveira sweets and toys will be busted open. I am probably a latecomer to the Oliveira show, but in another sense, underdistributed and ignored, I'm as caught up as probably anyone else. The first movie I saw of his, Inquietude, was directed when he was at or near his 90th year of age. That's star star star star star star star (representing an expletive) old! Inquietude could probably be described as a fairly full or complete expression of the Oliveira's style, and for me when I saw it, holy, it opened a totally new and different type of movie making/language. A twisted blend of theatricality, fable, magic, politics, literalism, literature, jokes, history, modernity and more that is stunning/daring/timeless/timely/fun/etc.*13 And if lots of talking and sustained stretches of boredom is your thing? - hey! will you ever love Oliveira's movies. And if pretentious is your thing? - less luck, no one will have a clue or a care about what you are talking about if you bring up this old Portuguese master. Kind of like now?

Inquietude = unbelievable. I'm Going Home = nice. A Talking Picture = wow! Magic Mirror = I so wish I was not so utterly trashed when I saw this, but also da bomb.

I have been waiting for a chance to see his earlier stuff (his youthful shit, like when he was in this 70s, ha!) for the longest time, and ta-da, presto, eureka, BAM.... .org. Except I will not be in NY for most of March, nor will I be in NY when many of the Oliveira classics I hope to see will be screened. The Past and the Present and Benilde or the Virgin Mother, and perhaps Christopher Columbus, The Enigma will be all I have time for, if I have time for it. The rest? Teardrops.

Let's "the end" this with what The Prophet has to say about this matter:
  • The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
  • When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
  • Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

----------------------------------------------------------

*1 Is.
*2 So it's not necessarily that I want to get with teenage lasses, just teenage looking women. And oops, apparently Virginie gives a performance in La Fille seule, directed by Benoit Jacquot, that is supposedly highly regarded (which also sounds sort of Varda's Cleo From 5 to 7 ish).
*3 I did see Late August, and it is alright.
*4 Though the director that I think is "the one" is Claire Denis.
*5 Tous les garcons et les filles de leur age.
*6 Nobel Literature medal winner Steinbeck. That enough or you need to know from where?
*7 The first two reason is mainly why I connect a more or less big name poet like Blake with a less appreciated poet like Crane. Crane's poems also commonly have some kind of moral / value lesson dressed in a somewhat religious/strange/haunted style, which I think is Blake-esque. It is most likely a piss poor analogy though. Output-wise, Crane is minor, but what he does innovation-wise with imagery and symbolism is major. Especially if you see some of the most important poetry movements in the 1900s drawing out of the Crane tradition. Which I more or less do.
*8 And she is unequivocally not that bad word. Or, not in a way that is different from how people are that bad word generally.
*9 Here is The Prophet's take pretty much on the same subject, you decide:
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.
And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.
And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.
Though the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.
*10 Harold and Maude. Harold. and. Maude. =. Great. And of course, thanks H for the book.
*11 Search in NY Press, if you want.
*12 A different critic describes Techine: first-rate second-rater, within a rave for the new movie. (House Next Door link) And yeah, there is some of that too. I'll just sort of defend: for French directors like Techine who came out right after the nouvelle vague blast, it is tougher to keep pushing things forward. And that is thinking Wild Reeds (Techine contribution to *5) and Thieves are straight up sensational.
*13 So new and different, I haven't figured the less-than-a-lot-of-words way to describe it.


Friday, January 04, 2008

not so soon


One not surprising thing is that Failan is a great movie. Very moving stuff.

Recently, truth be told, I have been in less than tip top mood, often. Nothing too big of a deal. Just perhaps feeling a smidge emotionally fatigued, from being always shit on and so forth. The tough part here is that I'm no saint, I probably (certainly) fit most of the invectives lobbed my way, ie the asshole that people have said or thought I am. I totally get that, because I am fairly not friendly and not social. So I do my part by not seeking social activity. I do not call people just so I can be not friendly and just so, in the end, they can say I'm a jerk (for my not friendliness). It's a tad lonesome type of existence but not as unbearable as may be suggest by first blush.

The part I totally do not follow is other folks call me for one thing or another, and my being asked, I try to comply with that requested one thing or another, and I still (still) get slammed, in the end, for being a jerk. Stop writing me, stop texting me, stop, just stop. I don't ask to be contacted so that I can do a favor or so that I can "listen" or so that I can do whatever, and then still, in the end, get... hmm... I am repeating myself here. Anyway, stop calling me if you can't be fucking nice: is sort of what I want to say.

That's the smidge emotional fatigue part. And I don't mean to be a whiny bitch, because technically (in verifiable elevated degrees) I am a jerk/asshole/degenerate/etc, but I am not jerk/etc to a person who asks me for help and I actually help (or try to) when asked. And then, to make matters worse, these days, often, when most all is said and done, I apologize, too.

I should say that I do not do good apologies: I do not do apologies well. Another not surprising thing is I like James Joyce (though I only read his excellent earlier stuff). Here is a bad example why, from Portrait, Stephen talking:

"But I will tell you also what I do not fear. I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to leave. And I am not afraid to make a mistake, even a great mistake, a lifelong mistake and perhaps as long as eternity too."
Cannot say whether those lines articulated my sentiment or instead shaped it. Came across the novel so long ago that I do not remember. Pretty badass way of putting things, either way. I am not afraid to make a mistake. Do not be afraid to make life long, as long as eternity mistakes. And shouldn't the natural progression be something like: "I give bad, if any, apologies"?

Interestingly, one critic found in addition to evoking the defiance of a young artist, the quote hints of desperation and pride. Which is perfect! I may never have considered it that way, but I do gots way too much pride. Maybe I just connected to that aspect of the lines subconsciously. As I remember it, the quote was motivated by the protagonist/Stephen's refusal (which would make it a rejection) to take Easter Duty, which is sort of like going to church for Easter (and therefore rejecting the Catholic Church).

James Joyce notwithstanding, of late, what else should I be but all apologies. There is a not so attention grabbing story behind my change that will wait for another day - an evolution that I am not sure is for the best, but seems to be how the tide of my life wants to flow for now. So I say or write my awful, unsatisfying sorries to this or that person. Kind of humiliating but thank goodness for deep ingrained and well-reinforced low self-esteem. The apologies, coincidentally, never works. Well, an awful, unsatisfying apology has much less of a wagering chance to work. So maybe it's my bad, aqua seafoam shame.

Less widely quoted from Portrait is the parts that come right after the above quoted quote:
Cranly, now grave again, slowed his pace and said:
-Alone, quite alone. You have no fear of that. And you know what that word means? Not only to be separate from all others but to have not even one friend.
-I will take the risk, said Stephen.
-And not to have any one person, Cranly said, who would be more than a friend, more even than the noblest and truest friend a man ever had.
His words seemed to have struck some deep chord in his own nature. Had he spoken of himself, of himself as he was or wished to be? Stephen watched his face for some moments in silence. A cold sadness was there. He had spoken of himself, of his own loneliness which he feared.
-Of whom are you speaking? Stephen asked at length. Cranly did not answer.
A cold sadness. What a peculiar sadness that must be. Grave again Cranly should have answered, or be more direct, if he was referring to himself. Anyway, I love Portrait. Though what or how I may, if at all, identify with the novel is inapplicable to the extent that I am not an artist, I do not have a larger or greater calling/purpose in life. I read, that is about it. So what benefit would be gain from following hero Stephen's defiant words? Cannot think of any, aside from stoking my already bad attitude.

An ineffective apology and then what, - I sometimes figure that'd be the end of that. The other person doesn't accept it, stays steamed, and oh, then those divergent roads in the woods. Yet forked roads habitually recross, or inevitably, at times, it seems. A brand new call or text or email asking me to do this or that, again. Deeply ingrained and well-reinforced low self-esteem, of course, I do it. I totally want to add: sure, I did what you mentioned, so go ahead, get your rocks off, tell me that I'm an asshole. But I totally do not do that.

Not denying that I got me some reserved bitterness still, but for the most/whole part I let it drop fairly quick. Which however I may rationalize probably spells all sorts of seeded psychological issues that I (also) ain't getting into. I ain't much of a lover, unfortunately neither am I much of a fighter. What much am I? Anyway, I play along like we always get along.

Not speaking of Letter from an Unknown Woman, the Ophuls version, I did catch it recently. While there is a ton to be impressed with in Ophuls' super movie - if this is not an injustice - I will simply add that Joan Fontaine was kind of foxy in it, or as foxy as a in black and white, over 30 year woman can be. Joan was Lady Miriam's baby sister, or Olivia De Havilland for you Robin Hood haters, with their sisterly bond ruined, or perhaps ruined that much more, by some kind of Hollywood rivalry. Hopefully it was highly exaggerated. Cecilia Cheung was (and still is) a stone cold fox in Failan as Failan.

Who I do not know is a hottie or not is the actress in Once. I completely suck because I missed this movie when it was playing locally. According to the W.W. web, it now only plays in:

Market Square (Madison,WI)
Magic Latern Theater (Spokane,WA)
Laurelhurst Theater (Portland,OR)

None of which qualifies, in my case, as throwing distance local, Northeast lad I am. Anyway, I'm especially regretful as: 1) I like musicals (which this is) and would be interested to see how that cinematic forms adopts (or doesn't) with the jaded modern sensibilities; 2) I like new faces in casting, which so far the Once names are alien; 3) I like romances, which, come on, who doesn't? 4) the songs are reportedly toe tapping catchy; and 5) John Carney seems to be a hot (hot in the unknown-and-likely-never-be-known sense) director/writer worth looking out after. I missed it because for whatever reason when it played in probably the closest freaking theater (or second closet) to my tenement shit hole home this summer I could not find friends/people to tag along to the theater with, or specifically not find anyone to catch a Celtic romantic musical. I should have so caught a screening solo if no one else would go. Anyway, ignoring that it is out on DVD (I believe out already; feel free to go get the DVD and let me know if it is worth my hype), and ignoring I'm so hating Madison, Spokane, and Portland at the moment, and ignoring it's probably a quite modest and well-tread girl and boy meet to fall in love type flick, I'm holding out fingers-crossed hope that Once will get a revived playing prior to the big movie industry award season. I hope.

The whole point in mentioning Failan again is that one of the big lines in the movie is the heroine Failan writing to the not-exactly-hero Kangjae, "every one here is kind but you are the kindest of all." Which, depending on your cynicism comfort level, is not as simple as it sounds. For one, Kangjae had no kind intentions behind the perceived kindest of all act. In time or by the end (naturally perhaps), Failan's words trigger a (re)new(ed) awareness in Kangjae. Then, a Failan-like line for me came weeks ago (by now) as, "you are too sweet and kind. Thanks so much for this," for a really trifling thing I did for some person. And while my actions were backed by a helpful intention, sweet and kind would be a hardly on target characterization. Yet, I'm grateful, which as far as considering my often unappreciative and self deprecating nature, is as close to renewed awareness of self appreciation as it may get. Too sweet and kind, that someone said that, even certain offhanded hyperbole, at least the words itself, now expressed, exist. Not that I do not hear compliments often (well, maybe I - fittingly - do not), but in this case, it surprised.


Friday, November 02, 2007

level 3, mark to model


i had been writing a ton of stuff about investing, ideas, strategies and so forth, for some pals - all with the disclaimer that i am a god awful investor - but as these pals are newer in the game than me, they might benefit from my tales of financial woes. so there are much stuff - not aided by, as is my fashion, non succinct writing style - regarding lessons painfully learned and my evolving investing thoughts. all the while, i have been trying, by sharing my thoughts, to pick the brain of others who - from the little i've heard - have been doing okay with their cash money in the game. which is to say that i had hoped to accelerate my blog writing by a copy and paste from the long ass emails i have occasionally or habitually sent.

i had targeted some emails i wrote on p/e ratio, which is, despite suffering from many and major drawbacks as an analytical tool, is one of the most basic and required item for investment research. eh, basic stuff but not quite elementary enough if i were to say anything at all about investing. new material instead: some general throught points, some actionable steps, but obviously, it is your money, do your own homework.

1. max out your contribution in whatever your employer offers in term of retirement plan: 401, 403, pension, whatever. your employer might match to a certain point, but max out anyway - even where your salary level/grade might be such that day to day living may seem a tad tight - whatever goes into the retirement account will not be too much missed if it never enters the disposable cash stream. that's the way those type of things go.

2. get an IRA (investment retirement account) and max out on the yearly contribution. whether it is traditional or roth versions, it is silly not to have one and not to maximize contribution. the way the tax system works, an IRA is free money. free. money. really. so go get it. and preferably, roth over traditional, or roth over traditional as much as possible.

3. if you have been in the work force world for a little bit, consolidate your various, if any, retirement plan stragglers to a rollover IRA. it's okay to let your employer handle your investment while you are working for that employer, because normally you got no choice. but you want control once you leave.

4. do 1 to 3 asap. that’s the way investing works, via compounded returns. a hella lot of it is tied to timing: the mo' sooner the mo' better. and do not worry about retirement savings interfering with possible future home purchase, higher education decisions, there are some penalty-free early withdrawal options for certain alternative investments, which includes first home and tuition.

5. choose an age appropriate portfolio mix (and to a lesser degree, personal risk tolerance appropriate too). the younger, the more risk that can be taken. or, if you not old, bring more international, more small caps and more emerging markets flavors to your portfolio; if you old, less international, less small caps and less emerging markets.

6. with regards to selecting the right vehicles in your portfolio, unless you have time, interest and attention to do a hella lot of research, choose mutual funds or ETFs that track indexes. picking the right companies for stocks involves a lot of work. picking the right mutual funds involves a lot of work. picking something that tracks a market index is mucho easier.

the right company or mutual fund will or should out pace the market index. unfortunately, with regards to picking the right individual stock(s), the reward comes with considerable risk; and i don't got much more to add if that is your choice aside from be careful and good luck. mutual funds wise, in any given year, roughly 75% underperforms, and that 75% likely changes year to year. some homework might turn up the right fund(s) among the other 25%, so good luck as well with that if that is where you want to go.

index trackers are not ideal if your plan is to smoke the financial markets and make thousands or millions galore. but at the same time, these type of funds will hardly ever do worse than the market. why? because the sole function of index tracking is to replicate the performance of the market. oh, the reason the market - or the equity markets, which is what i am talking about when i say market – is important is because in the long run equities (companies) are the best wealth generation for us everyday folks in terms of investment. so while there may be better opportunities within (and outside) the market, at the minimum, investing in market performance is mighty decent; and will help in one important aspect: prevent you from making bonehead mistakes as you probably won't know enough (especially when you are starting out) to avoid them.

and when considering index tracking funds, between mutual funds or ETFs (or exchange traded funds), ETFs are better chiefly because they cost less to run (and thus you get a slightly better return), have some considerable tax based advantages, and trade like stocks on the stock exchange so they are a little easier to follow.

to be more specific, in many cases the vanguard run ETFs offer a better value (and as a result, performance) than comparable ETFs: VV for USA large caps, VEU for rest of developed world markets, and VWO for emerging markets. you can opt for some sort of total global ETF, but this three headed ETF alternative allows you some personal allocation customization leeway with little effort. obviously, do your homework.

7. always, always, always reinvest dividends. that’s the way investing works; you gots to compound your returns.

8. buy and hold. do not trade. if you were so smart to time your trades, well, would you have to really read this far in here? equity markets is the best place for us main street josephs and josephines in the long ass haul, so you have to think long ass hold for your investment horizon. it is possible to ignore the daily financial market turbulence, and advisable.

9. fine. assuming you feel you are all that, for mutual funds: minimally, check the fund's historical performance (even if past performance ain't the ideal indicator for future performance); the person managing the fund to double make sure he or she helmed the fund during that historical performance and is still managing the fund; the associated fees/expenses (look for no fees and low expenses, obviously); the content in the fund's portfolio (no harm in peeking at the companies in the fund); and repeat until you find attractive mutual funds for US large cap, international markets, and emerging markets (and probably small cap too). morningstar.com is a not bad place to start your homework. and don't forget, i said minimally.

10. fine. assume you feel you are even more all that, for stocks: minimally, lower risk by making sure your prospective companies have some competitive advantages such as growing revenues, growing earnings, strong margins (all relative to competitors), high barriers to entry in their markets, expanding markets, dominant positions in those markets, good inventory turnover, low (or no) long term debt, and so forth. and look over management ownership levels as a reflection of their confidence/commitment to the company. obviously most companies will not have all these factors/advantages, but the more advantages your companies have, the more better. and you need to repeat until you got several companies across industries and geographic areas. or look for good diversification; you can mix it up with mutual funds, ETFs, and stocks depending on the workload you think you can put up with. by the way, competitive advantages do not guarantee anything, but at the same time, it should lend much, much more stability, less sensitivity to exterior influences to your companies and better chance of outperforming. you also have to make sure you figure out all the wall street ebonics like P/E, ROE, debt to equity ratio (yo!), as well as hopefully inspect financial statements and conference calls. don't forget, i said minimally.

11. if you do not have a broker, get a reputable online discount broker, like schwab, etrade, or similar ilk. it is tough to believe i know, but the 20th century is over, and lots of productive things can be done online.

12. most of the above applies to non retirement or personal type accounts. if you got a job and make an okay salary or have some cash money stashed under the mattress, consider investing it. invest an amount you can stomach a drop (hopefully temporarily) of 20%-50% in value, or even an entire lost. there are several places and vehicles that allow you to make smaller investments if you cannot start off with a huge chunk of change. and smaller periodic contribution, or dollar cost averaging, is a good way to start personal investing while reducing risk some.

shit, this was not too non succinct. well, this is about the bulk of what i got to write about investing for ultra newbies. the main gist of is, go do it and be careful. these modern times make it easy to get more information and to ramp up the learning curve. so if you aren't caught up, get caught up. what i have offered i hope is something of a starting guideline point. of course, if you got any specific questions, whoever you happen to be, i'll definitely write something back - keeping in mind god awful, mistake prone investor track record - if you ask. and i suppose i can always copy and paste off of this. so big woop.

impromptu "bonus" part 2? sure.


part 2s


time's up!

or, now you'll finally know the thing you hadn't cared about knowing for over 2 months.

exciting!

lise meitner said it.


Saturday, October 06, 2007

Boycott


I had been intending to write a certain something for a long, long time. And since I have not for whatever reason got that certain something written, uh, there is always the write about what I intend to write option. Here goes!


A classic flick, albeit unseen for now by me, is Max Ophuls' Letters from an Unknown Woman. That flick gots a probably super remake friendly premise because while I haven't seen Ophuls' movie, though if Letters played anywhere nearby I would for sure try to go catch it, unless of course it had played anywhere nearby already and I hadn't tried or just plain hadn't seen it, then if it played anywhere nearby again, and hopefully soon, this time I will really try for sure to catch it, it's already been remade. A Chinese movie English-titled not coincidentally Letters from an Unknown Woman directed by, also lead actress, Xu Jinglei is a decent very recent remake example. Probably there are any numbers of others that updates Ophuls' flick (or the Stefan Zweig source novel) or draw ideas, themes, structure and other such larceny. The remake I like best, however, gives credit to neither Ophuls nor Zweig despite the clear and ready resemblances, but which instead claims to be based on a work by Japanese writer Jiro Asada, a novel/story of some sort - I could not find out which exactly or much else about that Asada source material, not even from the www,(1) except for the novel's/story's title - titled Love Letter, which, I should state here because the internet don't make things clearer, has nada to do with Shunji Iwai's, as many likely will attest, though not me only because I haven't seen, magnificent 90's touchstone Japanese movie also titled Love Letter, the idea for which is from Iwai, but which I also cannot track down whether it was originally a novel, story, screenplay, whatever. The remake I like best, which claims to be conceived from a wholly independent source, though maybe that Jiro Asada Love Letter source was influenced by Ophuls or Zweig's work - which by the way, another Asada novel, an epic work, served as the basis for When the Last Sword Is Drawn, one of my most favorite recent samurai picture (direction by Yojiro Takita) – because I rather agree with others who find it very Letters from an Unknown Woman-like, even though, as I have said, I have not seen the Ophuls' movie (or read the source novel), as just minimal understanding the bare Letters premise, the correlation seems more than coincident, is Korean New Wave highpoint Song Hae-sung's Failan. Failan is a super terrific K flick, even if by sole virtue that it is not overlong, which, I don't know why, is a curse burdening much of Korea's movie making industry, or I can guess but not in much of an authoritative manner - Koreans hate editors? - except of course, Failan is filled with so many other delights, wonders, scales and heights beyond its pacing and directorial efficiency.(2)

Which is to say that I envisioned the piece to be titled Letter to an Unknown Woman, a sort of play on the classic flick's title. Technically difficult to pull off because a letter to a unknown person? Sheesh, awkward. But the previous letter thing I had written was so, much, fun, I had intended to revisit that well.

But of course, and I would have to start more or less confessing, it ain't an unknown woman. Awkward but possible though perhaps outside my abilities, writing to an ideal imaginary woman – which would be the natural implication if it were an unknown woman - doesn't strike me as meaningful as writing to an idealized, though I will argue no less imaginary and unknown, woman – which in fact is what or who I have plans to make the subject. Or the difference is that an imagined ideal woman, if conceived at all, would be one that is or possesses x, y, and z charms, features, and habits; whereas an idealized woman would certainly have some aspects of the desired x, y, and z-ness yet where she might be deficient in other x, y, z parts and not just deficient but deficient in a way that is wholly incompatible to my sensibility, and if anything would only end up makes her more appealing/longed for, even planting the seeds to reforming or modifying my sensibilities, that's something interesting. I mean, it's more interesting in what it (can/may) says about the writer/me, the world, the inner world, and that sort of mumbo jumbo. It's twisting that particular person who is not the ideal, but through blindness and illogic making her so that might be so fun. Or, more or less, it applies here, now.

The intended titular unknown woman would be, um, let's name her T for now. In the most technical sense it cannot be said that T is unknown as I met her about a year ago at some soft-lit, disco-blasted club/lounge in a somewhere neighborhood that stockpiled such establishments, one right after another; if such a thing existed as infatuation at first sight, well, I have been infatuated with her for a year, unless of course that time I met her was over a year, in which case, it could very well be as it sort of seems well over a year, maybe even two years, then I have been infatuated with T for a year or years. But the point is however long the association, and the fact that we have met, does not mean that I know her. T is still every bit mysterious. In one sense, it is easy for me to feel that way because my general attitude is to assume everyone is unknown and mysterious and take him or her as he or she is while he or she is present and accounting before me. I try to avoid prejudgment, and that's one of the simplest ways to do so. Another sense is the perception that space is infinite, as much as there is new and more to be learned reaching outward, the same applies while looking at thing inward/closer. Either way (and I can come up with more rationale) knowing of her is not identical to a claim of knowledge. Meeting several times since that year or years ago day does not change that, not helped by talking very little with her during the intervening time, other than enough to know she is candy all over sweetness.

Or actually, I had of late revised to start off with something to the effect of: "T, you weren't there." Because I was somewhere out in the city late at night one night, and I guess T wasn't there. Which lead to noticing that she wasn't there and what expectation I had or should/n't have for her to be there, and how long it has been since she and I were at the same place, and those such commonplace observations/obsessions. The point being that there was no reason for her to show up that night nor for me to expect her to, and yet when she wasn't there, well, she was not there. In fact, she had not been there wherever there happened to be for some time; I had tried to resist saying I miss her, but, "I miss you, T." The thing about good luck and miraculous happenings, when it does not happen, does it noticeably does not happen? I was surprised not to see her, yet not surprised because I wouldn't have an idea when or why she would appear. But when she does not, it totally sucks. For not-to-get-into-here reasons, now surprise, good luck and miracles are my allies to getting to see her. See, pretty smooth way to lay out some of the obsessive and compulsive themes I got on plate.

I had a bunch of filler about how I tried to get with T but by having zero game the hooking up has not happened, (feeling slightly optimistic) yet. And somewhere in that bunch of material somehow a hopefully gracefully transitions to this: something something the best/main/only thing I want/hope from T is her conditional love. The gist of which is that unconditional love, what the hell is that suppose to mean? That you want your lover to be unconditionally in love with you? I don't get it. Even if you are - okay, I mean a hypothetical you, not you you. Okay, instead, I mean why would I want my lover to be unconditionally in love with me. What if I am an underachiever, lazy, stupid, and all unrepentantly so? What if I am a failure? Or get flabby? I hardly figure such docility as to ignore or not even notice to be a highly prized virtue. I hardly figure being undeserving to be that which lovely T deserves. Short of pure whim, T can (must?) test all those minutia of her impatience, intolerances, and, why not, indelicacies against any and all parts of me, test against the gratifications of her present, the worries of a future, and all those standards hoisted by her memories. I would only want her most conditional love.

Which is frightening because whether I would be acquitted if T judged me, now there is a fucked up question. Underachieving, lazy, stupid, but repentantly so? - moment of greatness flickers; the footman snickers? I do feel - and I am not asking for sympathy - I have spent so much time failing, or even worse, spent so much time not positioning myself to fail. Okay, the whole conditional love idea was something I toyed with for a piece of a poem, and god, that's not leaving the ground either. So I thought I'll squeeze it for my Letter to an Unknown Woman thing. But in regards to love, I had this sketched out early on to sort of quickly summarize my so-called attempt to capture T's attention:

There is nothing in my personal history that prevents me from accepting that I cannot make someone who does not love me fall in love with me.

Or "love" is too strong of a word. Or is it too weak? Love has the most meaning if it can be fallen easily into. God, enough about l-o-v-e. That word leads only to a pitfall.
Which is to say my intention, from the beginning, was not to talk about that word. And as well, that self-directed negativity just above? my failures and whatever, that's going to be a boycott too, it's unproductive and D-pressing. I am not perfect, that is not (by itself) a fault. Imperfection, as a rule, is a glory. But it is yet true that if I were to be tested now by T, I would be stressing. I have more flaws than most. And as a tummy pinch confirms: flab city. Which is the point, that T should be with someone of talent, potential, capability, and so forth deserving of her attention and passion, and 86'ing whoever is not.

What I at first and most of all wanted to have a go at with this letter writing business is fidelity. Gabriel Garcia Marquez is a lovely writer and a prime example of his lovely writing is his novel Love in the Time of Cholera. Pynchon describes,(3) in his kick ass style, the novel's premise as:
At the same time, where would any of us be without all that romantic infrastructure, without, in fact, just that degree of adolescent, premortal hope? Pretty far out on life's limb, at least. Suppose, then, it were possible, not only to swear love ''forever,'' but actually to follow through on it - to live a long, full and authentic life based on such a vow, to put one's alloted stake of precious time where one's heart is?
A little later:
This novel is also revolutionary in daring to suggest that vows of love made under a presumption of immortality - youthful idiocy, to some - may yet be honored, much later in life when we ought to know better, in the face of the undeniable.
Which I will digress for a sec to say that Pynchon's writing always blows me away and that includes whatever he adds outside his novels.

For Garcia Marquez's lovestruck dude Florentino and his vow of eternal fidelity and everlasting love to teenager Fermina, while waiting for his love to be receptive and available again (some years later, the actually number you have to read the novel - or google - to find out), he goes through 622 diary-documenting-worthy affairs, along with many, many ("countless"!) shorter-duration dalliances. In the end, he has the nerve to say he remained a virgin for her. Wow, talk about magic realism. Anyway, that's a bit of a sidetrack. The point is fidelity. The point is a confession to my unknown woman, T, and my fidelity to her. Okay, I had never been with her long enough nor with sufficient intimacy or privacy to come out and say I love her and always will. Okay, um, probably it would be slightly premature for me to do so even if that occasion presented itself. But to the degree infatuation or a deep, deep crush can be love, sure, then those vows are applicable and exist without my having said them. No? Okay, assuming yes then.

Anyway, the confession is more or less that since my infatuation at first sight, I probably have dated – "date," that term is as good as any other - or tried to date, and in the future I do intend to date. I am too much a cynic to say that position is wholly consistent with an eternal vow of love. Florentino presumably distinguishes his extracurricular fucking from spiritual fidelity, and spiritual virginity I guess. El realismo mágico!(4) I will say that I will/might end whatever preexisting relationship I would be in(5) if T ever becomes receptive and available: as far as I can tell she has been more or less attached with some dude or another for the one year or years that I have known of her. Though I have to guess what that means to my other former (or future, for that matter) deep crushes. Sticky business.

Which is all very confusing and terrible to say/admit, opening myself to all sort of questioning or critique on my character/principles.(6) To me, T is just about the most wonderful, inspiring, and foxy lady, like, ever. At the same time, waiting with nothing but the faintest prospects is strange. I mean, staying at home, masturbating, that's bound to be not too much fun after awhile and hardly, hardly figures to make one more commendable to oneself, not to mention to a prospective sweetheart. Maybe within the context of eternal love, as Florentino examples, it is the spiritual component that is chief. And love is wide enough to allowing dating, long term liaisons, even marriage even when a lot of affection is reserved for someone else. Widening love's pie so we can accommodate more of love's slices while also having more of each love's slice, that does not seem terrible, - as long as good character and fair principle guides the action, that is. But with my infatuation and crush for her, I have not and shall not remain faithful.

Anyway, this seems all and overall not too much to write about, which is why I haven't written it. So fin.




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1. Wikipedia, you suck.
2. Such as Cecilia couldn't be cuter and Min-shik couldn't be nuance-r.
3. A NYTimes review: http://www.nytimes.com/books/97/05/18/reviews/pynchon-cholera.html
4. I know I'm misapplying magic realism, as the virginity part is Florentino's POV and not what Garcia Marquez, the novelist, is saying is the case. But whatevs.
5. Somewhat mandatory qualifier: if any.
6.
Cuz, like, what I write is totally, like, what and who I am. Or not. You know what? I take that back. The cynicism/defensiveness/frumiousness is over the top. It is especially unfair for me to presume anything about the reader(s?). Otherwise, I wrote (or 1/2 wrote) this thing and stand by it. I can go on, but I'll let it go.




Saturday, August 25, 2007

The bomb that will bring us together


Richard Rhodes wrote
The Making of the Atomic Bomb which I have and am reading, slowly. Slow because a chief headache I got is that math and science are not my strong suit. Summarizing Part 1 so far of Rhodes' book, which takes the intrepid physicists and chemists, theoreticians and experimentalists, from the give or take 1900 to the cusp of the WW number 2 rumble. Well, before summarizing, I want to say that I rather view WW number 2 starting with either the expansion of the Jewish persecution laws (mid 1930's) or the Anschluss/Sudetenland absorption (happening about a year prior to the official start date of 1939).1 In both situations Hitler twisted such an environment of instability that escalation was dead certain and grounds were aplenty for other nations to intervene.

In the Sudetenland case, military rejoinder should have been plain as day as France and Russia had signed and sealed treaty obligations (and UK with a sort of handshake agreement) to resist a Hitler move to that region. From the little I gather, decisive (and collective) action by the old European powers at that circa 1938 time might have squashed the Reich's burgeoning but still sloppy war machinery. Though at the same token, France and UK's war machines were less burgeonful and quite sloppy at that time too. The appeasement period, I have heard argued, was partially intended to allow ramp up time for the what would be Allied forces' own war/death machinery. France, however, considering how she rolled over to Hitler's blitzkrieg'ing, well, she didn't quite ramp too good.2

Drats, I hate to flip-flop and I was all set to unequivocally say that once the Reich's stepped up her aggressive racist policies around 1935 a moral obligation to militarily intervene arose. I mean I would have to scratch my head bald and bloody raw to find where international intervention would not have improved a situation which had acts tantamount to genocide.3 But before I get accused of being a Jew lover, well, I backtrack.

One reason is the old chestnut that sovereignty rights are a big freakin deal. And Germany, right or wrong to outsiders' eyes, at that time mid 1930 time, should have sufficient latitude for how she treated her people. The main targets of persecution were political opponents even as Jews, among other disfavored groups, slowly found many (professional, legal, citizenry) rights restricted/stripped. The life and death part of the final solution did not manifest itself until late 1930's, at least not until Broken Glass Night (circa 1938) or perhaps probably after Hitler steamrolled Poland and gained access to a much larger number of Poles of Jewish faith to torture/murder.4 And until some significant life and death stakes are on the line, I cannot quite say that other nation-states were obligated to intervene with guns and tanks on behalf of how the Germans treated her people within her borders. Yikes, does that make me an anti-Semite?

One writer I really dig is David Markson. And, joy of bookworm joy, DM will be doing a reading/talk/whatever at the Union Square Strand Bookstore on September 5 for his new novel titled The Last Novel. DM's present style is basically something that you can pretty quickly catch from reading about 1 1/2 pages in of any of his last four novels, including Last Novel, so I will skip my paltry description of his writing.5 For his reviewers and admirers, I would ask: how is Last Novel different from his prior three novels, or how does it advance, refine, deviate from his now fairly established (but still radical) style, form, substance, etc? I mean, if it is more of the same old goodness, I can accept that, and gleefully. But I wonder if there is anything differently compelling with Last Novel that might deserve special notice/attention.6 I ask because from reviews and criticism I have come across thus far, aside from the effusive praise and brief bio, there is only more effusive praise and bio.

Otherwise, I am quite looking forward to that big Sept 5 date. Anxious over what I should ask him to inscribe if he is kind enough to do an autograph, or two, for me. I hardly get into the autograph thing, and I would be totally unfamiliar with the process and protocols that goes into these bookstore events. As well, even these weeks in advance, I am formulating questions or small talk talking points to contribute for either the possible Q&A or brief 1 on 1 face time payoff if there is an autograph line. I hardly remember when I was last so heavy with anticipation. The analogy goes like this: DM = Justin Timberlake, me = HS sophomore mall princess dreaming of that box.7

But this is the point.

Orsen Welles directed a movie titled The Stranger where a war crimes investigator/Nazi hunter is hot on the tail of a Nazi who somehow assimilated himself in small town America.8 During a dinnertime conversation, the villain reveals his villainous past despite his Our Town sheep costume via an imprudent assertion that Marx was not a German but a Jew. Later the hero/investigator/hunter comes up with his heroic hunch by figuring only a Nazi scumbag would draw that sort of distinction. I did not know/recall that Marx was a Jew or a German, though I probably did know and really, really should have recalled.

Jews contributed over 30 books of the Christian bible, depending on the Christian sect, way over 30 books.9 When the church pastor gives his/her lesson about Job, those scriptures are from a Jew about a Jew.

Actually, that point would take forever. I won't be a coy goy, this is the dirty point and I'll make it brief: Fuck it, I am anti-Semitic.10 Institutionalized faith blows.11

So back to Part 1 summarizing: the atom is still a question mark at around 1900's. Cavendish-HQ'ed Rutherford experiments with alpha particle projectiles lead to the conclusion of the atom's nucleus, massive and electrically charged, with oppositely charged stuff about it. Already formed was a suspicion of tremendous power potential. Copenhagen-located Bohr and Moseley did experiments involving the periodic table and something was learned about the electron, which are the oppositely charged stuff about Rutherford's nucleus. Then and around then, World War I and lots of woe and death. Then something particle accelerator,12 Joliot-Curie, Chadwick's gamma ray experiments, and the big thing in 1932: the neutron, which was determined to be ass-massive like protons but w/o electric charge. Big because neutron had the capability of penetration previously unavailable for scientists.

1932 and Europe obviously also meant the rise of Hitler. A lot of chemists and physicists had Jewish issues and as Nazism progressed things got hairier for many scientists. The international community did very little very late, which meant too late for many people who were of Jewish faith (or had ancestors who were) and just in the nick of time for the lucky not as many.

Through it all, more discoveries and experiments, along with fears and dreams of the potential energy from atomic exploration. Uranium, Fermi, Einstein, Bohr's liquid drop model. Finally, barium formed from uranium, Meitner, Frisch, Hahn and Straussmann.13 Essentially, the nucleus is like a water drop, neutrons hitting it would make it wobble, as it wobbles it goes from more or less circular to oscillating, ovally elongations. At that time, the strong force that kept the circular shape of the nucleus would weaken because strong force operates only over short distances, and the distance had widen because of the neutron impact and oscillation. At the same time, the electrical repulsion forces would increase, think water balloon tossed in the air. The nucleus would be pushed more ovally until it forms a waist or become like an hourglass, however, once that happens, the narrowing waist would bring the strong force back into play and the hourglass would squeeze closer and closer until poof and pop, one big nucleus become two smaller nuclei, along with a hell of a lot of energy being freed, something that E=mc(2) would probably aid in calculating. By then, most of the hearty band of superbad nerds, I mean scientists, had resettled in the New World. And World War 2? Awaiting, I assume, in Part 2.

If the summary made no/little sense, well, imagine that stretched across 300 pages of Making of Atomic Bomb. Equations are a language I cannot read. Still, it makes the subway ride go by faster.

Someone said, "I will have nothing to do with a bomb." Guess which scientist.14





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1. This focus on Germany takes a rather skewered view as a lot of bad shit was going down in Asia too, and I am totally ignoring the implication that a stronger and earlier response from US, UK, etc against Japan and in support of China in the 1930's could have made things quite different (both in Asia and Europe). But I cannot clearly see how: Asia is/was seen as a beneath official notice, colonial trophy anyway and China, well, she was in such a sad conflicted state that Japan's military imposition could hardly be described as worsening her situation. However, Japan's abuse of soldiers and civilians in the 1930's and throughout Asia probably did require the international community to kick Jap asses sooner. Anschluss refers to Austria, and Sudetenland refers to, I think, the Bohemia part of Czechoslovakia.

2. You will probably come across people saying that the Brits and French were routed out of Europe due to bad strategy that allowed the Germans to divide their forces. I guess. But you know what, I'm slightly glad Paris did not got the shit pounded out of her like London or Dresden.

3. "Acts tantamount to genocide" is a fucking cowardly phrase which I more or less credit to Bill Clinton. The quick and dirty is that saying something is genocide, by international law, would require action, while saying acts tantamount to genocide basically permitted many, many folks to get systematically slaughtered, raped, and tortured.

4. Sort of explained if you continue reading. Sort of. By the way, Hitler's hate machine also preyed upon gays, Catholics, etc., but I'll presume in WW2's case, scale is not insignificant in assigning the main victims.

5. If you aren't even going to read 1 1/2 pages, then I especially should save my attempt at a what would be a paltry description.

6. Which is to say I have not read the new book yet. I have it, and it is on my to read pile, but I have not read it yet.

7. The instructions apparently are: (1) cut a hole in a box; (2) put your junk in that box; and (3) make her open the box.

8. Edward G. Robinson, the hero/investigator/hunter, is a tremendous character actor. Made great movies that much greater, plus terrific cartoons (Bugs Bunny, Courageous Cat & Minute Mouse) that much terrific-er.

9. The Bible: Part 1, aka Old Testament, for sure, right? Anyway, if I had anticipated I was just going to say what I had to say with essentially one throwaway line, I would not have bothered googling about the Old Testament. The main parts of the Christian bible that matches with the Jewish bible are about 36 books. However, the actually number of Jews writing (recording/telling) were probably less as certainly a few dudes (Moses, for one) got credit for multiple books (Pentateuc, for Moses' multiples).

10. Well, I am. Though I hope to avoid getting on the ADL and/or JDL shitlists.

11. The rituals, costumes, music, poetry, etc. are probably exquisite and fun. And the people, as individuals, are probably and typically deeply flawed and deeply beautiful, as people normally are.

12. Maybe I just missed the significance of Lawrence's cyclotron but I did not get its exact contribution for atomic research so far.

13. Einstein said of Lise Meitner, "the German Madame Curie." Which gives no notice of the fact that she was Austrian, her ancestry included folks who practiced the Jewish faith, and she was a baptized Lutheran.

14. I'll give it away, later; but, as well, there's always google.





Thursday, June 07, 2007

We Jazz June

Days ago Arcade Fire performed at a place in northern Manhattan, Harlem, Spanish Harlem, Washington Height-ish section, I don't know which neighborhood, but far north enough that I could have safely confided, "We aren't in Lower East Side anymore, Toto."

Arcade Fire not long ago released their second long play compact disc titled
Neon Bible. It is fashionable to say the earlier stuff is better and, as gravity teaches, there is often no place to go but down. Meanwhile, I have been out of fashion for quite some time, and as well, when you think about, (G*m1*m2)/(d*d) ain't much to answer to.1 So. I like Neon Bible, yet yeah, Funeral, the debut titled Arcade Fire long play, is better. I will not dwell on it, but one reason one is better than the other is because the guitar play in Funeral is more out there and raw, and lends greater exigency and electricity.

Proust wrote somewhere in Remembrance of Things Past, "All men with similar ideas are alike." I'm not sure how much of a definitive statement Proust intended that to be. I am willing to say that he meant it more as an entry point for further or other explorations and discussions, if anything. Moreover, while I think the quote is provocative, I do not particularly agree with it. Which is the long way of saying that Ocean of Noise, track 6 off Neon Bible, is an amazing tune and plays on a lot of the themes and issues that I am drawn to: culpability, (emotional) violence, communication, getting closer, not being able to get closer, shit like that. But it is not Ocean's matching parts that hook me, but where they jump track from my own thoughts.

Which is a slightly roundabout way of saying that I am still learning about myself, and compassion, forgiving, and forgetting, and so forth;2 learning and re-learning. Which is, without claiming any authoritative understanding of
Ocean, is more or less what Ocean deals with. "Now who here among us / Still believes in choice? / - Not I" caught my attention at first because then, and as now I suppose, I do not think I can get its meaning. Is choice good, bad? am I choosing, am I not? And, what is belief in choice? do I believe in choice, should I? Etc. Mysterious.

"Time heals all wounds" a common saying goes. I do not suppose I buy that, it assumes too much is my gut response. But time is a major component when it comes to my dealing with conflict and anguish; in large parts because I do not mind waiting. Let's say you and I tussle in a heated argument, eventually, if not immediately, the exchanges devolve into accusations, blame, and worse, figuring out how each of us can use words, actions, memories to hurt as much as possible the other. I just think given time some type of clarity or calm can be restored. Not as in time dulling the intensity of emotions, but rather letting the higher or main emotions come forth in the way that is intended. In the initial bloated heat of a given argument, one person might be inclined to say, "you are a bitch and I don't want to see you again." Given a bit of time maybe something different comes out, something like, "what you did hurt me, try not to do it again, and I'll try not to put you in a position to do it again."
Ocean concludes powerfully with "I'm gonna work it out / cuz time won't work it out." Time, time, time is on my side? No, it isn't. Not necessarily anyway. Yeah, given time maybe something different comes out: clarity, calm, affection, perspective, etc; but time-wise, maybe something else comes out instead, something much less benevolent or productive; or maybe yet, nothing, as in never again, comes out. Time does not heal wounds; you heal – your and those of others that you associate with – wounds; I heal – my and those of others I associate with – wounds. Probably assumes too much too, but veers closer to reality and possibility.

This last bit comes from an earlier part in
Ocean, "You've got your reasons, / And me I've got mine. / But all the reasons I gave / Were just lies to buy myself some time." A lovely bit, and exemplifies why Arcade Fire is listenable. But other than that, it is just nice to have the chance to be told, or reminded, that all the hard earned lessons that somehow hardened to become my hardheaded truths might be complete bullshit, and lies. I am a fairly stern and cold person, sometimes out of necessity, sometimes pushed to be, and sometimes (or too often) out of ease. If that type of severity could be deemed a virtue, it would only be so if it stood behind being right or was justified. But to not be right and in the process wronging myself and others, and all the while being recalcitrant about things, even the possibility of that combination has to give frightening pause. To question myself, even say outright that I may be lying, even when I can do nothing but believe what I do and say is dead to rights, why the hell not.

I'll break here to say that the novel
Stone Junction - even only 17 and a half page in - is really good.3

Anyway, yeah,
Ocean, I think it is a good song. You get it. Okay, at the Arcade Fire show, before the band got onstage, I spotted a school friend two or so rows in front of me. I was not sure at first if it was he; it looked like him enough. I chitchatted with my own buddy for a little bit before deciding to "shout out" to that school friend. Alas, he was not there no more. I figured he went to the can or on an overpriced beer run, and would return soon. Skipping the suspense, he never got back. I guess, his seat was elsewhere and he stopped by and did a "shout out" of his own to his own friends. This conclusion comes from checking in two rows ahead, every now and then, once the show started, my school friend never got back but his friends were still there.

So no school friend, just two other dudes who I suppose were my friend's friends. Arcade Fire rocked a pretty good show. If I had to say, probably one of the 2-3 best live shows I ever seen. They do not so much as put on a solid professional show and get the crowd involve, but the crowd becomes a part of their show. The Wrens, who possess another slot in the probably one of the 2-3 best live shows I ever seen, float pretty much the same boat.4 Now, of course, the crowd has to be really into the band and their music in the first place for that to happen. But it is not the passion of the crowd that makes it a great show, but how much the performers believe in their songs and performance to meld with the crowd. And frankly, most other performers either do not believe enough in their product or just do not see mixing with their fans as the point of their show. Arcade Fire really buys into their stuff. And if you are a fan, with the band and you are in this thing together, or at least together during the show's length, then that experience is damn fantastical.


Which is my way of pointing out that I do not buy into the Arcade Fire (or Wrens) shtick. In one sense it is amazing when the performers steps down to join the crowd, or pull massive chucks of the frenzied crowd on stage. Being a part of that, there is no way to not say fucking cool. Even seeing that happen, that is fucking cool. The magic of their show and their songs narrows the divide between those making the music and those listening to the music. A sort of ich bin ein Arcade Fire, or perhaps ich bin ein audience.5 Yet, the cynic in me sees that generosity as corn. In the end, the show is still a show, Arcade Fire are performers, the crowd is there to be entertained, and the divide is still divide, no matter how many people leap on stage to rock
Wake Up, the final song of the rock and roll evening. It is a certain perversion, but those other musical acts who coast on professionalism and are content to please the crowd with choreographed hip shakes or microphone extended to play sing-along, by admitting to the divide between artist and listener, that they are putting on a mere show, nothing more nothing less, I, if not respect, accept that. The sick part is that Arcade Fire, and Wrens who I caught months ago, by suggesting a greater intimacy and communion and therefore giving a kick ass show, lie.

Still, during the few stingy hours of the show, the crowd rocked hard along with the band, and my friend's friends two or so rows in front of me did too. They swayed, hollered, leapt, and arm pumped. Which is to say they expressed how the music moved them. Which is to say they were flamboyant with their expressiveness. Which is to say these two young men were probably gay. Or flamboyant plus relatively fit/thin equal probably gay. Which means maybe my school friend is probably in the closet.


Currently out of the niggas I know, I have about a hand's worth who are friends or acquaintances – at this point, I will admit the N word (naturally, the N word is nigga) is controversial and makes some folks uneasy. And while I did have and was working out justification and/or explanation for using the N word (by which is still nigga), I am going to leave it as is, unless someone directly request for such justification/explanation (and with why).6


Among the hand's worth, Spike Lee is not included. Even though Spike is a city boy, like I am a city boy, I never got to bump into him around town.7 Otherwise, Spike, to me, is a great American director and out of the bunch of his generation/contemporary working currently, the best major commercial art director, and that means better than Spielberg and Scorsese.8 I threw out that proposition in a comment at another blog, and to my surprise someone replied:

"I actually agree with you on Spike Lee; I have tremendous love for him for directing Do the Right Thing (one of the great films of the '80s) and 25th Hour (one of the great films of the '00s) and of course When the Levees Broke. And even though he's made several terrible or mediocre movies, and he turned out to be a facile public speaker and rude/arrogant during a Q&A at UNC last semester, I think if there's any established figure who proves to young people the (both political and aesthetic) relevance of film in contemporary society, it would be Spike Lee, not the Scorsese of the past decade."9
Nice way of pretty much saying just about most of what I have to say, and stealing my thunder. So even while I do not mind redundancy too much, I will let it stand except for except.

I came around to my view on Spike based largely on his underappreciated movie, titled The Inside Man, not his best work, but is such a good movie that it perhaps prevents folks from seeing it as a great movie. My view is based on Inside Man compared to The Departed, both are two of the more mainstream commercial projects from two of the more major American directors. And the thing that Spike does that Scorsese does not, and upon wider general reflection, other supposedly major American commercial directors also do not, Spike engages (even challenges) culture and society, and with greater depth and vitality. Yet, everyone makes a big fucking uproar about Scorsese never having won a directing Oscar, or finally having won one, and for The fucking Departed! Departed is the same shit over and over, movies so that guys can jerk off to violence and nihilism. Yeah, award winning stuff. Spike has yet to be nominated for the fucking directing Oscar, for god sakes. Why? I grant that intelligence, ambition, and so forth are not often nor quickly recognized or rewarded. But that Spike is black, yeah, it has to have something to do with it. Life is all right in America, if you're all white in America.10

Don Imus, I point out regardless, is not black, nor a friend, nor an acquaintance. He formerly was a host of a morning talk radio show which I have never heard nor had any inclination to hear. Aside from not liking advertisements, which means not liking commercial radio (or commercial television), I (presume-ably) would not like whatever shock shtick Imus plays to the morning AM crowd. He was canned for saying something I neither have yet nor will ever repeat in writing (at least in commenting on Imus), some type of slur directed against the young ladies of the Rutgers Scarlet Knight b-ball team (after their disappointing defeat at the hands of the Parker-led Lady Vols in the championship match), and which resulted in a minor media maelstrom. The maelstrom regarding Imus' slur seem to be either that it was per se offensive or personally offensive to the girls as private figures. Neither is particularly persuasive.


The thing that gets to me is that for Imus' slur to be regarded as patently offensive, the mediots sure trip all over themselves to repeat the offending statement, and as frequently as possible to boot. If folks think that Imus' statement is such a (professionally) capital or suspend-able offense, then folks should stop repeating that damn statement. Even where it is necessary to directly quote Imus to set up a media segment, afterwards the blander "Imus' statement" can be used for the rest of the segment. Repeating the slur means it is not offensive per se. If they can repeat it with impunity, then, maybe Imus' remark is not as fucking bad as all that.
And worse, by repeating Imus' sexist and racist remark, the mediots betray how clearly and dearly they like to say or hear it rolling out of their own damn mouth.

Other complainers of Imus go on to say that his remark as directed to a bunch of defenseless, post teen girls makes it bad. The assumption is that public figures, movie stars, politicians, and those celebrated ilk, have to take the lumps that accompany fame/notoriety and have channels to respond in kind. I personally would love for someone to attach Imus' slur to Condoleezza Rice for her part in the Bush administration's Iraq decisions/policies.11 But to describe the Rutgers women b-ballers as strictly private citizens is not exactly accurate. First, the ladies have defense enough as Imus got his ass kicked to the unemployment curb. And if the girls are on a national stage, as athletes, in a grudge match watched by (and for) millions, they are public figures. Not that I do not sympathize with the Rutgers women, but their training and education from Rutgers and Coach Stringer should prep them to be more than ready to take on a radio shock host.


As for Imus' fate, not that I care much for him – pretty much if he lived by the advertising dollars, then he should not begrudge too much dying (professionally) by the advertising dollars – but I wish to hell or high heaven that the radio station had guts enough to stick to freedom of expression and marketplace of ideas. Otherwise, that Imus is apologetic and seeks forgiveness for his offensive remarks, that is super. Hopefully it is true and he works on that, he just won't get paid while doing it, is all.


Finally, I do not want to leave with the false impression that I am so saintly or delicate for not repeating Imus' slur. I have repeated it, and variations, in private and personal conversations with friends
. Among other things much worse. I can always be worse. It's always night, or we wouldn't need light.12 I/we do need light.13



-----------------------
1 Recently, in response to something I wrote (two entries ago, actually), a friend critiqued it as my trying to sound cool. I responded by saying "i guess what i can't imagine is trying to 'sound cool' via writing." Meaning I have yet to read anything that could be described in style or intent as "cool." Hip I see, and/or have seen. But cool? It is not a descriptive I attached or know how to attach to writing. Though perhaps the equation for gravitational attraction may be a pathetic try at cool. Not sure.


2 However, just as well, I could have written: how to be not compassionate, not forgiving, & not forgetful.

3 At this real time present point, I am done with Jim Dodge's novel and I really, really dig it. I fairly promptly mailed my book to a dear, close friend. He got through the magic novel in a few days and seem to like it. At this real time present point, I also got done with Thomas Bernhard's special novel, titled Yes. Finding a pal who might dig Bernhard's, um, disciplined prose, however, is a tad more of a task.

4 I leave the last slot open because I assume there must be some show that I have caught that was extra super, even if I cannot think of the specific show.

5 It is a certain urban legend that Kennedy misspoke in the Berlin speech. While Berliner might commonly stand for donut, by many credible accounts Kennedy's grammar matched his intent.

6
I apologize to any particular reader if my using of that word may bring back pain ridden memories or sensations of historic or present day usage in a negative, derogatory context.

7
I probably spied Spike from the Garden's nose bleed seats through binoculars at this or that Knickerbockers game.

8 The qualification for living directors is because among Spike's general generation of American directors at least Robert Altman is probably as good or greater. And I have a bunch of disses for some of Spike's peers, such as FF Coppola who is basically content with staying fat and selling wine these days rather than work on movies. I will also say that there are any numbers of other American directors who have made marvels of movies, such as Lynch or Jarmusch (De Palma, Coen siblings, etc), but they stick mainly with their art or marginalia shtick.
Spielberg is the tough one, but I'm not giving him the benefit of the doubt, he makes artful commercial movies, not commercial art flicks.

9 I am going to skip identifying that blog , but it is among one linked along the side here. And you can search from there. It was more or less a conversation with new blogger Andy Chan, who, aside from the quoted text (and for his and that site's protection), has nothing to do with the content here.

10 Apparently, the stage version of West Side Story and the movie version has slightly different lyrics. I hadn't notice these lyrics until I watched part of the movie on PBS, which was, from the part I saw, pretty good.

11 I do not know if her hair style qualifies her for Imus' slur however.

12 T. Monk had said.


13 Maybe instead: I need to create more and a brighter light.