03.30.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 11:08 am by Gregory
Joy is a strange feeling to me, so perhaps you’ll pardon me as I learn to adjust to it.
Good day.
There are five rubber chickens sitting between me and this monitor, and (no; they’re not the source of the Joy; sorry, chickies) it occurs to me that, although they are unlikely to remain thusly arranged, their positioning is nonetheless astute pour ce moment.
(Des poulets pour ce moment…hm…thinking album title: Chickens for Now…)
Anyway, glancing at their little stretchy heap reminds me how limited of late has been my thin, gruel-like diet of Wit. I mean, unless you count Murphy’s Law. (I try to put out as much as I can, but there was nearly zip to replenish.) No chagrin: This particular medium seems best for reporting on the Actual (as perceived; much sucked); however upon reflection it is plain to me that I simply kept swirling — HALP! HALP! — in the Charybdis of Non-Wit.
Which just isn’t my way.
(There’s another album title, though.)
Spring, She brings Closure as well as Reawakening (or, more likely, Awakening), et cette annee, avec le printemps, je suis libre.
In truth, I’m not the sort of person who easily releases expectations, resentments or hopes.
But I did.
And: Boom.
‘Tis Good.
Fortunately, although the whirlpool was intense, little lights on the horizon sang (parasung): “No, don’t go down; come this way…”
Then I somehow hit the flat Sea, patched the raft, put up the makeshift sail, thanked the little lights, and…
…this metaphor is proving Seaworthy.
Today I feel strongly that it would be nice if we peculiar bipeds were endowed with richer and more elegant modes of communication. There’s nothing wrong with the basic ones — they’re glorious — and yet a complex world demands complex harmonising.
Perhaps that’s more along the lines of what I’ll be discovering next.
Ah.
Back to business, here’s a bit of Movie Talk, plus Three Notions Involving Women:
Last night I attended a screening of Fracture, which is a new…thriller, I guess…starring Anthony Hopkins as a cold, calculating, haughty creep who shoots his cheating, three-decades-younger wife Embeth Davitz (Hoosier; go figure) and then coyly toys with the SoCal legal system. Emotionally, the film feels to me like a dirt clod assaying the sensations of a hummingbird. In a “Grisham”-like way, however, I’m sure it will make for compelling if largely disposable viewing for many. The obvious illumination of Los Angeles Plays Itself pokes through frequently with the geographical references, which proved the most entertaining aspect for me. The score is fucking terrible. The cinematography is chilly but snazzy.
Three Notions Involving Women:
1. As I rushed to last week’s screening, I noticed a gaggle of very excited people outside a boutique across the street. These were mostly young Asian men, and the air was filled with camera-phones: flashy-flashy-flashy. Inside were many security goons surrounding some modelesque woman in a skimpy outfit. As one of the men outside briefly turned toward me, I asked him who that was. “That’s Paulina Rubio!” he told me, literally gasping with the apparent thrill.
What’s fun for me is that I really do not know who Paulina Rubio is. Put her and that McPhee girl in a lineup, tell me to identify, I’d probably fail. Hope they’re having their fun, though. (I also hope they’re recycling, conserving fuel and refusing $60K swag-bags.)
2. As I rushed to this week’s screening (amazingly, both bus-rides proved to be nigh-implausible “Red Sea” experiences; this particular driver must have been approaching sixty mph!), a cute Asian woman sat beside me and began to read. (She was not cute because she was Asian; nor was she cute in what I perceived to be a come-hither fashion; she was simply cute because she was cute, and if you’ve ever tried public transportation in L.A., “cute” is rarely an ingredient). The reason I mention this is simply because of what she was reading, which rather surprised me: That Hideous Strength, by C.S. Lewis!
3. If I had to name a Personal Fave Film, I would most likely go with T.G. & R.L.’s The Fisher King. For me, it came at the right time, and it moved me tremendously (check out that Grand Central Station scene!). Much to my pleasure, the topic of this film even recently wove itself into conversation with a person in my life for whom words are inadequate. How fun, to share that glittering gem amidst myriad other treasures. Thus, I knew something was on the right track as I rushed on foot toward last night’s screening, and from the atmos of the street a woman’s wail arose:
I’VE GOT THE POWER!
I’VE GOT THE POWER!
(”Everybody’s a critic; it’s getting kinda hectic…” Heh!)
Bonus Woman Notion:
My mother (and Mother) and I are communicating well again.
May your week-end be lovely.
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03.27.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 12:42 pm by Gregory
In response to my surprise whirlwind to Alhambra (not Washington Irving’s, but Inland Empire’s) on Saturday, our trusty Sampaguita quickly responded. I’ll let her say the rest, except for two things: 1. I liked Alhambra, and only employed italics because I was genuinely surprised to find myself there; and 2. I couldn’t help but take an on-the-fly photo, however the most I think I’d eat there would be fries (and I’d inquire about the oil). G’day!
I was very ready to jump up and get defensive as I spent a great deal of my childhood in Alhambra.
I might just check out the showing.
(Do! -Ed.)
This place you sat down to… it was one of the many restaurants on Valley? (And now the very mention of Valley Blvd has given me a craving for food served at The Hat— thanks for that.)
(No prob. Here: -Ed.)
UberCine.JPG)
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03.26.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 3:55 pm by Gregory
Hi. Not too much to say in this regard that hasn’t already been said, however I would like to take this moment to go for the quintessence and state that my past several years have felt like being enthusiastically keelhauled.
Not that there weren’t breaks and refreshments, but then right back to bare skin, cold waves and that awesomely barnacled hull.
Get a great job; employers are total scumbags. Feel something good for someone; they are insane. Make a wonderful friend; they die. Turn to a family member; they fling the sociological equivalent of monkey scat directly at your eyes. Reach out; find Void.
Well, that’s enough of that!
Reflections are likely to remain salty (I have spent a very long time in the Sea), however this post is the equivalent of putting my foot down (then up; then down; then a bit to the side; then up again…) and stating with great dedication:
NO!
MORE!
SUCKFEST!
(Thank you.)
And looky here. Almost two Earth-decades ago, a zany craftsman sat on the lawn of my university, selling his wares, and when he discovered that I was studying How To Edit Frames And Influence People, he lit up like a [lit-up thing] and declared: “You ever see the films of Herzog? You gotsta see Herzog! Herzog Herzog Herzog!”
(I admitted that, being a student primarily of Speed Racer with generous sides of Camelot and Papillon, nay, indeed, I knew not then my Herzog.)
Well, things certainly come full circle. And what a great metaphor: This Brian Sweeney Fitzgerald going, indeed, against the Amazon!
Whew.
P.S. Me, I wouldn’t bother with the boat-over-mountain thing, and certainly wouldn’t harm any of the trees or frogs or natives. I would totally bring the phonograph, though.
Ta!
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03.25.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 3:01 am by Gregory
Okay, that’s a week. Started off typically miserable but passably faking, chose to Believe, now launches free happy. There are many details, however it seems to me that the best way to report on most of this is…not to report on most of this.
Thus…
First, a Recommendation.
I love cool art galleries (probably because I have toiled in words for so long — for me, since I discovered them). Today a good friend called up just as I was ready to conclude a brief semi-nap: Would I like to join him for a freeway-trip to Alhambra? Something about Pixar artists and some book about Myth that they have made. We’d go well before the actual event, just to scope the art in person.
Alhambra?
This ended up being great fun. I enthusiastically endorse Nucleus, and recommend not only checking out their cool current show, but also dining in the neighbourhood at Hop Woo — which we did. Their main room is awesome, but, alas, we didn’t get to sit at the “Dragon Tables.” (It seemed, at first, that we were being concealed in the “Round-Eye Room” — until it became clear that all casual guests were thusly stationed.) Also some trouble ordering, in that the Chinese and the English just barely overlapped (the waiter and I said the words “tofu” and “bean curd” to one another at least a dozen times, and then none showed up but I got a small village’s worth of Vitamin-A-rich vegetables). Amusingly, the apparent manager-owner then scolded me for doubting the order, pointing to the Chinese receipt as if it were proof of my terrible failure to order what I actually wanted and requested. This made me smile. My friend was disappointed that we didn’t (or, he didn’t) eat at Angelena’s SOUL FOOD, but since deep-fried pig ain’t never done it for me, I am going to opine that what we had was very much soul food in its own right.
Yummy, actually. Recommended.
Hey, how about a letter?
I just watched Tideland on the basis of Mr. Weinkaufs review. I think he owes me $5.95 cdn funds for the rental of this rubish, plus paying for the two hours of my life that I thoroughly wasted! What do you smoke Gregory? Is it legal there?
Sorry, not enough information to form a proper response. Did you hate the movie because it was great, or because it was brilliant? Someone online has already defended me for raving up this film, and I believe that time and human emotional evolution will side with my opinions on this one.
As for the return of funds, if you’re really nice to me I might buy you some soup, but The Unspoken Critical Disclaimer pretty much applies to all public opining: No guarantees, no refunds. What are you gonna do, dig up Gene Siskel and sue him because he jumped for joy over Halloween III: The Season of the Witch?
(Incidentally, I dig Donovan. Donovan, wherever you are, I dig you.)
Cam, however (who is the correspondent above) rather surprised me in that he transmits his disappointment from Regina, Saskatchewan — which of course is where Tideland was filmed! (Just be careful how you toss around accidental adjectives such as “rubish.”)
Thank you for your comments, and to answer: I don’t smoke anything – nor do I go to “oxygen bars” — and when I pass a peculiarly legal cigarette on the pavement — which is often — I usually take a detour-step just so I can twist my toe and shred it out of smokableness.
And, what the heck, here’s another recent correspondence (re: my recent “Odin’s Day” post), from supersensationally patient Algonquinel:
Spiritual Autonomy: This is indeed the key, isn’t it? The “typical” thoughts about God in both Western and Eastern versions seem very limited–and limiting– to me.
Western: We have been created “In His Image”. Most seem to think this means that He must therefore look and act like we do. A Person. A Father—loving or otherwise—depending on what He’s done for them lately. Or–more likely–TO them lately.
In actuality, IMHO, it is not the physical, earthly part that is “In His Image” but strictly the autonomous, creative, GOD-LIKE Spirit that has utter and absolute GOD-LIKE power to create whatever life it so desires.
Using whatever reasoning works, conscious or sub-conscious. Whatever belief systems, feelings, thoughts, influences from others it wishes to incorporate—or not—at various times in its existence.
Free will, par excellence.
The point, in Western thought, is to end up in Heaven sitting at the right hand of God.
A long haul, due to all kinds of physical, emotional, and mental roadblocks, of course, but mostly due to our amazing lack of the basic Awareness that any entity able to do such a thing would have to have developed Perfection of Spirit. Or BE a GOD-LIKE Being.
Eastern: The point here is to achieve Extinction of the Self. This will produce Supreme Happiness. Bliss. Nirvana. Totally at one with God — Who Is Those Words.
True enough, as far as it goes. But this is God in Neutral Mode. Why?
Because only by showing Absolute Neutrality toward created free-will beings would that free-will be able to WORK FREELY. To be able to join with God in this Mode is certainly an achievement but, again IMHO, it is not the end-all and be-all of Existence.
The point of Creation, or of a Creative Being, is to Create. Their own lives and surroundings, as they see fit. Preferably positive ones.
Helping others, if the others wish it. Leaving them the hell alone, if they don’t. (Being able to tell the difference in these two attitudes is not always easy!)
Never impinging on another’s creation, as long as that creation is also not impinging. Spiritual Advancement is the desirable result, but only if desired!
And all of it is a whole lot easier Said than Done. Algonquinel
You know, it’s funny: Algonquinel is great, but when that correspondence first arrived, I was quite hesitant to read it, as I seem to have spent the most recent half of my life thus far in the presence of people barking their spiritual creeds and practices at me. (One formula I learned: Junkies usually turn to Jesus — if they don’t die first.) In truth it has been no fun at all, and if, theoretically, there were a “God,” I sincerely believe that “He” would want for us to run around having oodles of fun all the non-damned time.
I should know: I dutifully attended my screening of The Last Mimzy, beheld its beauty and wisdom even through its clunks and my increasingly intense (and non-movie-inspired) headache, and then wandered out with an instantaneously-defined sense of increased Awareness (thus opening graf of review), which I figure was the natural result of a nice movie but which never would have happened had I not slightly less recently decided to Believe (just that: Believe).
I wandered on foot onto somewhat dismal streets, and suddenly walked straight into Joy – and I’ll tell ya: When Life feels Good, Everything is Fun.
(Thank You.)
Responding now to Algonquinel’s properly spelt and punctuated philosophical missive, I am grateful that she has considered these concepts and has somethings to say about them.
All in all, worthy philosophies. The overriding theme I detect, however, is almost Libertarian: Impinge not, lest thou get all impinged back’n’shi’. Very [region], from my experience. And although this may incur backlash, I honestly do not believe that this forms the basis of a functional society. A society of what: Unabombers? Mix it up! Get out there! Hug a stranger!
Meanwhile, I also must state that I utterly loathe busybodies — and am not calling anybody here one at all. But those creatures have dogged me for years, and their presence totally sucks, and I invite them all to spend the next few decades scrubbing toilets — their own toilets — until they learn how to mind their own business. (The Pterodactyl had the nerve to watch me doing my recycling and to demand that I use a specific container, her way: As if, in any way whatsoever, this could possibly be construed as one half scintilla of her business. Sickening.)
It may be easier to sidestep philosophy altogether, and separate the world into People Who Suck and People Who Don’t Suck (the former group being browbeaten — and nothing more — into taking remedial Life classes until they begin to get it).
Back to East and West, they both sound pretty sucky to me! Sitting on a boring-ass Cloud with some Big Ol’ Know-It-All sounds almost as horrifying as Extinction of Self! (Jung would be pooping himself.)
I have given this matter careful thought, and I feel that once I am gone, no longer shall I give a fuck. What will remain will be of no more significance than a dead bug. And the Self (or Soul?) — it was Here, and since Time does not really exist, hey, guess what: IT’S ALREADY INFINITE.
Most other systems seem, to me, to be half-assed attempts to control multitudes.
(Incidentally, I had a friend in university who once wrote on my dry-erase board: “Gregory is the opiate of the people.” Cracks me up! Which, I believe, is the real point of that comment — apply it to whomever — that Life only becomes unbearably serious when stupid people are in charge. Otherwise, yeah: Have some fucking fun.)
Anyway, once again, I think Algonquinel says some valuable things above, and my nit-picks should not be perceived as an affront to her comments, but rather an attempt to elaborate upon them.
Except for this (which is one reason I think America is so screwed-up): We needn’t Create, and we needn’t be “Positive” (whatever that means: Is a hypocritical smile really of any use to anyone or even the species as a whole?) Decay and Destruction are utterly vital parts of the Cycle, and scowling at people for being horrid sends a valuable message for all humanity.
I like honesty, which is why I continue to tap here.
For one closing example — with regard to being Created in Someone’s image — I am increasingly convinced that errant Spacepeople banged earthly Simians (how else to explain the existence of Lenny Kravitz?)
Oh, but since I don’t like Lenny Kravitz in the slightest, I prefer to close this posting with the following announcement:
The little hard thing at the end of a shoelace is called an “aglet.”
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03.23.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 10:20 pm by Gregory
Oui, et je suis heureux! Possiblement pour la première fois.
Merci pour la Motion et pour l’Océan.
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03.22.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 11:47 am by Gregory
Wouldn’t that be funny, if all ancient Norsemen were rednecks?
(The word — once and utterly for all — is DAY.)
Thor, though, yeah, God of Thunder: I can relate.
This must be Thursday, except that I actually have the hang of Thursdays. In fact, know how I’m going to celebrate this particular one? This particular Thursday is going to be:
NO TELEPHONE THURSDAY.
I’m going to go out to lunch, do some errands, see a film in the evening, maybe even just go for a walk. And during none of this will I be carrying a mobile communication device.
Revolutionary!
I well recall my days back at Paramount, when they had me running around doing stupid crap, and then they gave me a pager, and the damned thing went off every twenty-three (!) seconds.
I quit a couple of days later.
Don’t ever let anybody turn you into their slave.
(Truth be told, though, I quit because Mike Myers was an asshole.)
Let’s see, other bad things to do for a “living”: I strongly recommend staying the hell away from allegedly “alternative” journalism; unless you know and trust the corporate side, it is a totally toxic game. (Note the sources of revenue in the back pages.)
Ah well, live and learn.
Speaking of movie studios, though, how can it be that I truly appreciate Warner Bros., and yet I loathe the hideous monopoly that is Time-Warner Cable? (I used to have a different, better company; and, of course, they ate it.)
Naturally, some of this disgust comes not from their poor service (they have bitten off much more than they can chew; love those “friendly” thirty-minute hold messages during “peak times” like 11:00 p.m.!), but also from my own foibles; for instance, I just noticed that I bounced my most recent payment to them. Great.
[Applause.]
Well, we’ll see if I can go out and get back and if the line will still be live. I hope so, because…
…I still need to post up the review of The Last Mimzy, which, it turns out the more I consider it, is a very intelligent and valuable movie. Pretty fun, too.
Good DAY.
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03.21.07