09.30.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 4:42 am by Gregory
What a great day! What a great night!
These years have been so lonely, and so full of assholes (shocking, really) — it’s still like magic to me when things work out and people communicate.
I have such awesome friends.
Today, S & A (& ?!), such a pleasure; say hi to K!
In transit, hang tough, L.
Also in transit, hey, G-girls; glad you did Cali right!
And this evening: To Paul (et al), thank you!
(…T and A and A and D and S and J and E and S…)
Often L.A. gets me way down (which is why I dig those Superficial Friends Motion Pictures — they utterly nail it); tonight: Ignore L.A. entirely, et mange des fraises avec des amis!
With extra thanks to The Beatles, who were present in a huge way throughout.
Oh, and to Mike Scott — who got the day rolling.
Possibly some catch-up here over the next day or two, but not a whole lot of updates for the moment. Prose available soon, though.
Boom Shanka.
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09.29.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 7:42 pm by Gregory
‘Tis a curious thing, Life.
These are probably the years in which I “should” be using various chemicals to speed up, calm down, become “more creative,” feel “confident,” fit “in,” etc. etc. etc.
– But I don’t/haven’t/won’t.
Not my thing.
The upside of not artificially enhancing oneself is that one has not artificially enhanced oneself (starting to think that that, in itself, is rather rare around here).
The downside, of course, is that if one is genuinely overtired, or nervous, or distracted, or hyper, or whatever — people love to jump on the “what are you on?” thing.
Life.
Wheels go round and ra-a-a-ound.
(I really love to watch them roll…)
If you happen to be checking this and I owe you contact or some creativity or whatever, there it is: Wheels going fast right now.
Of course, much of the wheel business is lovely and involves lovely people — there’s just so much of it these days.
Off to another lovely thing.
Then back to tapping…
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09.28.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 9:42 pm by Gregory
You know, the Critic game is a weird game. I’ve been in it since at least the fourth grade. I’m rather good at it, too — when I wanna be (which, these days involves either: A. Pay; B. Personal Interest; or C. Both).
See, the thing is, most “critics” are in fact Wannabe-Cool White Dorks who are desperate for attention — and “writing” (nominally) about movies just happens to be one of the easiest ways to get such attention.
You see it every day. Unfortunately.
Me — and with all very-due respect to the increasing number of Thinking People out there becoming Critics (some of whom don’t even apparently lust after some lame-ass third-hand illusion of “fame”) — I have my own formulae. Much like any product, if I simply told you the formulae, the formulae wouldn’t be special anymore, and then my vestiges of credibility would swirl down the cosmic bowl. But I can provide occasional hints regarding my outstanding abilities, and here is one of them:
Be alternative to whatever people are being forced to believe is “alternative.”
That said, and with no review here implied (although I may actually do one at some point; ha), I am going to rave (albeit briefly) for some Motion Pictures I discovered today.
Whoever made these has a little bit of a geek factor going on, plus they could hardly be called “timeless” (thus 1/2-star short of Utter Classicness; which may be amended; you never know), but I seriously and sincerely consider the satire in these Motion Pictures to be better, stronger and faster than anything I’ve seen in so-called “legitimate” circles in years.
I laugh. With cathartic pleasure.
(Mind: Of course I love Elegance and Grace and Beauty and Wonder. But when Society becomes Fucking Stupid, Hard Satire is Required.)
To be fair, these are NOT for children or most devout Catholics, so if you are a child or a devout Catholic (or if you are Fucking Stupid — no offence if you’re not), please do not view these. They will do you no good.
If you’re anybody else, have at ‘em: I give these Motion Pictures my official Rave:
SUPERFICIAL FRIENDS
(Warning: They’re addictive.)
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09.27.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 10:39 pm by Gregory
(Or is it: “Me ‘n’ Bono”?)
I’ve always liked U2 — and never quite loved them. Saw Joshua Tree tour at L.A. Coliseum and “Elevation” in tour in Chicago. Both very nice. Paul “Bono” Hewson I don’t actively dislike, and I enjoy his uppity onstage antics — but his insane messiah complex and desperation for attention definitely annoy (heck, I’ve bested mine, and yet he’s got all the money; I wonder if I could afford to spend one night in his hotel).
Then suddenly ”he” and “I” are ”sharing” this page (it may change over time, but right now it’s very fresh — as in less-than-24-hours fresh — between the interview and the photo). Small world.
(And when it does change, here’s the actual interview with the smart, classy lady known as Julie Taymor – of which and of whom I am proud.)
With kind thanks to Martin Lewis.
Say, wasn’t an early U2 song called “Out of Control”? Nothing changed there for Mr. Egotist. Then again, the Philanthropist of “Love and Peace or Else” is always appreciated.
Lil’ Paul is a mixed bag.
It does bug me a bit — even though it’s hopelessly tied into nostalgia now — when U2 keep pretending they’re American roots rockers, or Soul saviours, or whatever. Or when Paul attempts to absorb the souls of other musicians, like Joe Strummer or Elvis Presley or whomever. That’s merely weird.
His reading of “I Am the Walrus” didn’t sit well with me — because it’s a Holy Grail song (ask me about the 45 in the thrift shop in the desert sometime). The original recording is The Recording. Don’t tread on it (that includes you, Elfman). I’m sure I’ll warm to this latest cover, though — because…what else can one do?
I will say this: I like Zooropa a lot. A lot more than most people do. I think the production on the title track and “Numb” and “Daddy’s Gonna Pay for Your Crashed Car” is wicked cool. I want more of that: U2 not pretending to be the Kings of Planet Earth but rather musical dorks having a great big audio wank.
Paul would probably make a better Pope than the current one, though. I wonder if he’ll give that a shot. Or governor of California? God? Prince?
Anyway, there’s that little connection — if not quite across the Universe, then certainly across the Pond.
(Smiles.)
Multiple glitches and too little sleep. No pretty eyes gazing back. Need tea. Thus that’s enough tapping here for now.
Blessings.
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09.26.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 11:00 pm by Gregory
Okay, way too much computer; shall spend Thursday Harvesting.
I note with dismay that I have been demoted as a performer — from “Distinguished Partygoer” to merely “Partygoer,” in Until the Night. Damn. Wonder why. Oh well, I suppose as one becomes increasingly distinguished in real life, one fades away onscreen? (If only.)
Fuck movies anyway.
(Ha!)
Anything else significant? Oh, given this post’s title – may as well put NEIL YOUNG here. There: Neil Young. Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young! Now his fans will land here by accident.
(Actually, although I learnt to like “Bob Dylan” this year, I still like him much less than I like Neil Young. When Zimmerman attempts his Trans, I may reconsider.)
Here’s some listy business:
GREGORY’S “2007″ TEN PHRASES TO DUMP AND TEN PHRASES TO ADOPT:
PHRASES TO DUMP:
10. “Chipotle” anything. (that really shouldn’t be a word)
9. “Google” anything.
8. “Text me!”
7. “I’ll text you!”
6. “Honestly, Officer, I was only texting! (Are they…dead?)”
5. “Pimp” anything.
4. “MySpace” anything.
3. “Promises” anything to “troops.”
2. “Cadillac Esplanade.” (much cheaper to tattoo, “HELLO, I AM AN ASSHOLE!!!” on your forehead)
…and…
1. “Director Rob Schneider.”
PHRASES TO EMBRACE:
10. “No smoking.”
9. “iButtplug.”
8. “America’s Top Orgasms.”
7. “Want some pizza? It’s vegan.”
6. “Actually, my religion isn’t any big deal.”
5. “Je t’aime.”
4. “Let’s do it the smart way.”
3. “Wait…what’s a ‘gun’?”
2. “Metro pass.”
…and topping the list:
1. “20 January, 2009.”
Love,
~Gregory
P.S. Neil Young!
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Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 2:56 pm by Gregory
Very “hangin’ with HAL” kind of day. Humans I know reaching out through cold computer interface. Only proof of actual humans comes from the minions of Clompy — two extraordinarily loud Mexican plumbers hovering above my writing desk all day long (for their fourth day), not only banging every available surface like malign, untrained percussionists, but apparently sharing every single detail of their lives with one another in heightened voices. Fun. Plus today is Leaf-Blower Day (I know, around here every day is Leaf-Blower Day — but on Wednesdays they provide an extra-fancy audio spectacular [ah, here they are now; splendid]). Meanwhile, adoring the complexities of the primary Beatles love-fest article which should have been completed days ago — via recordings of people who are not actually here (which is always weird if one thinks about it too much).
Nigel Planer just dashed through my consciousness in that wig, shouting, “Lads! Lads! Why don’t we…
…
…EAT!”
A fine plan. Sushi and a couple of vital errands, then back to the beautiful musical experience before I collapse from this protracted run of three-hour “nights.”
Oh, and I’m pulling the lament (which will join a couple of others elsewhere) off the main page to make way for a rather lo-fi but sincere original love song.
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Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 1:42 am by Gregory
Rather than, say, packing up for Bali to study Gamelan and eat weird savoury foods with too many raisins in (note: one is too many), I collected my mail, which contained another love-letter from Paramount-DreamWorks — this one in the form of an extended EPK-DVD (can you believe that term actually means something?) — once again for the soon-to-open Ben Stiller movie, The Heartbreak Kid.
I find Stiller almost painfully extroverted (it seems like he’d make one tired) but I like him and his work. His onscreen discomfort seems to be his biggest export, but back when he had his television show, the writing was refreshingly weird.
When The Heartbreak Kid (semi-remake) first came to my attention, I found its premise comforting: Nice enough fellow hasn’t hooked up for various reasons, begins to feel mild panic, meets someone he initially thinks is awesome — then she turns out to be a mess, monster, catastrophe, whatever you want to call it.
Been there.
The movie looks milder by comparison, but the preview made me laugh out loud. I showed it to my mother, and she seemed quietly bewildered by it. (Not your standard “Farrelly” type — plus I doubt she has a clue what it’s actually like out there these days, in this sense.)
Oh, she met the actress, though; my mother and the actress like each other.
Back to point, today I received my third disc bearing a preview for this movie, and figured: Heck, trailers, scenes, soundbites, B-roll — I’ll let this be my evening’s distraction (as is this).
It’s a wide world, filled with dendrology and tennis elbow and salamanders, however tonight I decided to allow this buffet of The Heartbreak Kid to be my brief repast.
Trailer: Amusing! Scenes: Almost as amusing! B-roll: Not particularly informative (but more plot-revealing). And then…
Ug!
Soundbites!
Wow. The movie may be hilarious and heartwarming and grotesque and wonderful — that I do not know at this time — but those soundbite reels: Jeeee-SUS!
We get Stiller, his dad, the Farrelly brothers and the two actresses who mean nothing to me all giving one another non-stop generic blowjobs for twenty-five minutes.
They had me: They were selling me Ben Stiller doing his “WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME!?” shtick, plus grody gags. Fine. Whatever. But in the name of all that’s holy, PLEASE don’t follow up with absolutely insipid “interviews” wherein the A-listers repeat the litany of “Oh It’s So Great Working With These People What An Amazing Team We Are!” thing until the hard-sell itself becomes the joke.
Why the hell do you think I keep this Dead Parrot around?
Side-note: The movie is primarily set in Cabo. I’d be okay with seeing it, and if these scenes are any indication, it’s probably amusing. But I loathe the concept of going to Cabo, and truly have no interest whatsoever in finding out why anybody would ever want to go there.
Right – back to work.
Oh (wow; big deja-vu!), incidentally: Mention of Cabo really does not mean that I’d like to focus my astonishing mental powers upon the place until I accidentally end up the hell there; just as mention of The Heartbreak Kid does not mean I’d like to embrace the next fuckup.
Would like to see Xanadu in New York though, possibly mid-November. Interested parties are encouraged to apply.
But no raisins (this includes sultanas) in the regular food.
Ta.
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09.25.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 5:38 pm by Gregory
Recently found my Dead Parrot. This is Useful and Inspirational.
Otherwise…was that a week? Honestly, it cannot be Tuesday again; it was just Tuesday ten minutes ago. (Five minutes ago!)
Yesterday I read an online article about how sleep-deprivation kills people. So I’m just gonna cut just gonna just it cut gonna just out already.
So busy, though. Perhaps you know how it is, building bridges between and among the disparate entities in one’s life.
And typing, and editing, and re-typing.
Thus no extra time to type here.
A couple of quick things, though:
1. A few concerned (or at least intrigued) voices about the ongoing “insane female humans” thing. Dig: I think female humans are the greatest. The ones in my life — including many I’ve experienced this year (whom I tend to think of as Spirits first, with Gender a much later consideration) — give me actual Hope. The thing is: I live in a place where an uncomfortably large percentage of the female humans are Totally Bugfuck. This, for me, removes the little black cloud I happen to like having over my head wherever I go.
2. Part of general busy-ness (accented by whacked sleep-deprivation; it’s such fun to be told, “You look tired”) is that one of my favourite directors (who happens to be a Female Human) rang up last night for an interview — and it’s only now occurring to me that all that she said is too much to fit into the article as originally planned, and thus may take on life as its own article. She’s too smart to be reduced to three soundbites. Anyway, I’ll provide a link here once it’s Out There.
Joyeux Mardi.
P.S. The Dead Parrot is Vegan, and — being composed of 100% polyester — was never at any point in the existence of the Universe an Actual Parrot.
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09.24.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 11:42 am by Gregory
As the season changes, how’s about a quick and sloppy little retrospective overview of The Year Thus Far?
Early ‘07: Fascinating and stupid. A few fine connections with lovely people and a few productive notions launched. Afterglow of Winter holidays dissipates quickly and — worse — it doesn’t rain.
TV interviews: 1 (thanks, T & A — that was a great day).
Q&As hosted: 1, I think? (Evening.)
Discussions with local female humans: Mostly insane.
One person dated: To call her a “scumbag” would be generous.
Music: The stuff I like saved my life.
Local Hero: Finally managed to view it — have wanted to see it for over two decades. Loved it.
American Cinematheque: Rocks my world.
Close Encounters: Of the McCartney and Donovan Kind!
Class Reunion: Totally Awesome.
Friends and Family: Actually experienced many of them by late summer. Also Totally Awesome.
Places I’d Like To Visit Before They Literally Vanish Beneath The Waves Because The Earth’s Oceans Will Rise A Meter In The Next Century (Or Less): Cape Cod, South Island, Tasmania, Japan, England.
Dead And Gone And I’m Sad About It: Kurt Vonnegut; Madeleine L’Engle, Marcel Marceau.
Still Here: Almost Everybody Else.
Happy: No.
Content: Eternally.
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09.23.07
Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 1:42 pm by Gregory
Hard work pays off. And not necessarily in money.
It would be absurd to try to explain it all here and now, however an Understanding about questing, failing, certain song selections and general behavioural patterns finally clicked for me today.
Through writing; it was the writing that brought it all into focus.
This is hardly Guru On The Mountaintop kind of stuff, but rather a terrific breakthrough in terms of a personal illusion. Not New Agey, not that horrid Pseudo-Enlightened White Guy crap, not even a horrid Lookit Me!!! attention-grab.
Just a great big: Ohhhhhhhhhh…
And a course I needn’t bushwhack any further.
(Thanks, ” “.)
And a lovely Autumn to anyone che