Sunday, March 30, 2008

Sycophantic, Phlegmatic and Pusillanimous

More from Look Back in Anger. I had to rewind 4 times to figure out what the hell Richard Burton was saying, and it turned out to be Sycophantic, Phlegmatic and Pusillanimous. Go to Webster's to figure out what he's saying. I'm watching this movie about 2 minutes at a time. Right now, it appears he's decided to be "Angry". Mayhaps is what the title is all about?

Thursday, March 20, 2008

More Headlines

This from the movie Look Back In Anger:

A Woman's Ghastly Ordeal
by a mother whose
voice went husky
and who lost her
liking for knitting
By Mrs. Phyllis Pride
I felt like a dusty, crumbled moth, pinned on a collector's card...

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

The Hall of Absudity

A couple of years ago I got the opportunity to watch the UW Huskie basketball team from the seats owned by the guy that owns the Space Needle. My sister worked for him and apparently nobody wanted them... All I can remember about the game is that the seats were like 3 rows from courtside, and there was this guy behind me that just couldn't shut up, and all he did for the 2 hrs was gripe. Gripe. And gripe. And, uh, gripe. Of course all the players were crap, and the coach was crap, and I got a feeling this was the year that Lorenzo actually won the Pac-10..? Of course it was fairly early in the season, and perhaps before they improved.

That, I believe, was the last time I went to see the Huskies until tonite. Tonite they were in some 'new' tournament, playing Valpo, and when I checked yesterday they weren't going to be on TV, so I bought a ticket ($17.50 + $10.00 svc) and went by myself. Left the dog in the car.

The seats were medium good. I actually thought they were very good until the game started, when suddenly I realized the stairwell right in front of me was an invisible visibility obstruction, as people were arriving late (the game started at 6 pm), and so through most of the first half, people were climbing the stairs and obstructing my view. But when the ball was at my end of the court, they were okay... (I must say I was very happy with a number of plays underneath the basket.)

Okay, so the guy in the seat next to me couldn't shut up. At least he wasn't a griper. He was sort of at the other end of the scale. The cheerleader was 'hot' (no, 'that' cheerleader is 'so hot') and he's got that all the wayyy down! (even though the shot was missed) and other crap like that...

I was elbow to elbow with people on both sides of me, so I watched the 2nd half from different seats; the arena was only half full. The 2nd half seat wasn't as good as the 1st half seat, even though I did strategically move myself away from the stairwell, and found seats with people who could shut up, though there was a lot of yelling; in the 2nd half that is... I don't remember yelling in the 1st half. I know I was silent in the 1st half. I spent the timeouts in both halves reading George R.R.Martin's Storm of Swords. (approx. .89 pages per timeout). But I also yelled in the 2nd half.

They lost. By one point, but mainly by missing free throws. That was their whole season in a nutshell. If they'd made free throws they probably would've been 21-11 and made the NCAA's. When the game was on the line, Jon Brockman, the team's king, with 4.3 seconds left on the clock and down by 1 point, missed 2 free throws. Life sucketh.

Maybe I should've stayed in the seat I purchased. Don't know what that guy next to me had to say about the missed free throws. I do find it wierd that the last two times I was in Hec Ed, there were these unstoppable talkers driving me crazy. I'm sure this is some sort of sign from god.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

The Hipster Connection

So I just finished watching an episode of Hank Hill (King thereof) about 'hipsters' moving into an hispanic neighborhood and ruining it, and well, doing King of the Hill shit.

Then I flipped the switch to the new Dexter show (alas, poor Dexter, I knew him well...), and though there was this story about the bloodless serial killer and the bloody hand, I notice sitting on the kitchen counter a newspaper, ever so briefly it flashes by, so I rewind and pause, and there's the headline: "Hipsters and Hippies at Bonnaroo" (what in the world is "bonnaroo"?).

Hmmm, are the 'hipsters' perhaps taking over?

Friday, March 14, 2008

Blow Up Grow Up

I noticed Blow Up was on one of the cable channels the other nite, and recorded, and then watched it, or watched part of it then recorded it, and watched the rest of it. I remember watching this movie when I was like thirteen or fourteen. All I could really remember about the movie was that it was about photography, and there was a murder, and there were a couple of girls that showed their titties. At thirteen or fourteen, girls showing their titties was always interesting, and memorable.

The first thing I noticed this time was that Herbie Hancock did the score, and then there was supposed to be a song in it by The Yardbirds. The Yardbirds were sort of famous for their guitarists, one of whom was Jimmy Page. I think Clapton played with'em. There was another one who was famous, but I forget his name; (widipedia reminds that it was Jeff Beck). So I was sort of waiting for The Yardbirds song, and then David Hemmings walks into this '60's Posh Club, where everybody's just standing around watching The Yardbirds. Oh, their playing some heavy blues rock, and there's Jimmy Page wailing on the guitar, and there's some blond haired singer I should also know, and there's some other guy getting frustrated with his equipment, who ends up destroying his guitar, and ... Well, everybody's just standing around. Nobody appears to be grooving to the beat, if you know what I mean, and then the guy destroying his guitar throws it into the audience, and apparently right at David Hemmings, so that everybody goes crazy, and starts diving for the pieces, and all David Hemmings wants is to get the hell out of there, which ultimately he does, being chased by some other guy, because he, David Hemmings, has somehow ended up with the fingerboard of the guitar, and, well he runs away. When he gets outside, when he gets away, he realizes he's holding the fingerboard, and he throws it on the ground like it's trash. Some other guy on the street sees him do this, and for a moment picks up the fingerboard and examines it, then throws it back down on the ground.

Oh, the titties were still there, but somehow the girls looked prettier than I remembered. There was something in their eyes...

It is a strange movie. But it's about photography, and it is photography.

Another thing I remember is thinking that David Hemmings walked funny. I can distinctly remember him walking through a door and a short entranceway, and thinking "he walks funny." I don't remember seeing this scene this time around. I definitely don't remember seeing anything where I thought "he walks funny". Hmmm. Perhaps this is a sign of aging?

The Herbie Hancock score was actually very good. And once I thought I heard this guitar riff that could only be Jimmy Page, but ... apparently it was Herbie Hancock and company.

I don't know that you ever actually know the name of the photographer David Hemmings plays, so I suppose it's okay to say it's "David Hemmings", but of course, it isn't. (Or is it!?!!)

As I say, it's a strange movie. But as you watch the wind blow through the boughs of the tree where the dead body no longer is, well, I felt like I was reading poetry. Something I don't do often, but, less so, do movies.