Make The Hurting Stop

06-09-06 Long foretold, unravelling as to childhood, inside us all and forever cocooned safely in our innermost self, the CD long spoken of is nearly in fruition's state. The herren das mixen well, oh my brothers. It will be upon us, and as with a great, unsated need for airborn snakes in (motherfuckin') transit, it will be loosed upon an unprepared world. Wisdom, in the form of a beat now broken, I give to you. It's all down to the minutiae of the perfectionist's phiz (ambled out through such and given to reactionary fits and spurts), thus far. Hey. Look, I have to be at work in an hour and a half, it's late (early), I overloaded the coffee filter, and I've been arbitrating my valuable dream time between the likes of Rushdie and Pynchon, so fuck you if you can't take me seriously (C) eternaldonutenterprises 2002 (all italicized)

Here is the tracklist (subject to change?):

Jesus Christ, My Ears

1) Intro

2) Sloop DeeJay

3) NuBreed - Festa

4) Freeform Five - Electromagnetic (Evil Nine Mix)

5) Flack Su - Toddler (BLIM mix)

6) Forme - Let It All Out

7) Uberzone - Science

8) Robert Miles - Improvisations Pt. 1 (Buckfunk 3000 mix)

9) Andy Page - Mr. Rush

10) Unkle - Reign (False Prophet mix)

11) Infusion - The Careless Kind (Evil Nine mix)

12) Rennie & BLIM - Found Love

13) Uberzone - Dokkta Dokkta

14) Tipper - Sable Taco

15) C83 - Taurus

16) BLIM - Sound In My Head

17) Chris Carter - Xing

18) Andy Page - The Serpent

Dude, I *##*in' Watched That!: Scrubs, The Killing Fields, Badlands, Grizzly Man, Capturing The Friedmans, Arrested Development 1 & 2, Othello (FUCKIN' Harsh)

I'll Show You The Life of the Mind: Imaginary Homelands, Mason & Dixon

Rubber Duckie, You're the One: The Raconteurs, Flaming Lips, LoStep (also FUCKIN' Harsh)

5-19-06 Either Ebert's lost his mind, or he's dipping into the ether before sitting down to type. This review is extremely interesting, if only for the fact that, having not yet read Blood Meridian, I can't figure out when the SamPeckinpah-Hill he's talking about it or the film in question. It's baffling. How many critics start the mainline of a review with "have you read such and such?" Why yes, Rogie, let's talk, come inside for tea and a crumpet, we'll get your ass fattened right back....yeah, I really want to see this movie thanks to him, though. It's weird to see a writer lose his mind, nonetheless.

5-19-06 Favorite Rotten Tomato Blurb Ever (Re: Da Vinci Code): "For people who insist that the movie is never as good as the book, your case just got stronger"

05-06-06 HA!!!

4-14-06 Huh....Been awhile, I guess. I had to dustbust this bastard just to get to typin' on it. Thankfully, it hasn't sprouted legs, a shell, and a quivering anus, and that's precisely because I haven't ever no-how injected a thing.

What's the story? Ah, the limits of communication. To difficult pleasures, here here. I've moseyed along thus far, and have reached what is either an apex or a nadir. That is, I've got a year left of school. If I don't get cast in shows next year, then it means that I've finished the dept, effective immediately. In terms of credits, I am done with the dept.

Lord, how'd that swing by? I didn't really prove myself there. Learned some discipline, and a surfeit of hustle was acquired. Wait....no....not true. I need more hustle. Hustle gets you there. Don't ever, ever forget that.

What's the destination? I keep asking myself that question. The goal is easier to decide upon than is the destination. Wrongs have to be righted, and it's time to get crackin'. The wrongs to be righted are so great that only a goal set to high notes could possibly restore order. Peace. Who's with me?

My daily fear is that the answer is 'fuck it.'

Resenters, Get Fucked: Harold Bloom - The Western Canon

Good form, Peter: Hybrid - Kiss 100 2-5-06

You gotta want it: Last Days, West Wing 3, Interiors

To Be Read This Summer: May - Mason & Dixon, June - Bleak House, July - Underworld

Coming soon, hand to God: Jesus Christ, My Ears

3-13-06 DJ Flannel Boy does not go hunting. He goes Killing.

COMING SOON:

Jesus Christ, My Ears, by DJ Flannel Boy

The Players:

Unkle, PMT, Tipper, Si Begg, Rennie & BLIM, Kraymon, Uberzone, Evilist of Nines, Andy Page, Hybrid and possibly some supernumeraries. Probably not, cuz these players throw down.

Made possible by a generous grant from the Cofuck Foundation and viewers like David Moore

3-7-06 I'm paraphrasing here, but it was Pauline Kael who said that it's possible to be moved by trash, that is, it's possible to judge with our feelings and not with our sense of reason. Movies are by far the trickiest medium in this regard. Well, my ire isn't raised as much as this guy's, but I'm more or less in his camp. Here's his article. Truth is, I don't hate Crash. I just don't buy it. I was, however, caught up in it. That's not enough. Brokeback, Munich, and Good Night stay with me, and I've forgotten most of Crash. Crash is false because it lures into self-ennoblement. We recognize the problem the film presents, and congratulate ourselves at the end for deciding that though we have something in common with those characters, we're better than them. Ultimately, it's a feel-good movie in disguise. It's not worth hating, but it's definitely worth getting pissed over the accolades it has accrued.

All Quoyled Up: The Shipping News

Drenched in: The Shield

Heavenly Creatures: Fanny and Alexander, La Belle et la Bete, My Own Private Idaho

Shoulda Won: Brokeback Mountain

2-28-06 Message movies can eat one. Why are so many people blinded by some ham-handed social message? Why are people responding so passionately to Crash. It's not a bad movie. In terms of keeping one entertained and engaged for two hours, it's a good one. But there ain't a human soul on the screen. Does the Oscar go to the movie that made shameless manipulation skillfully enough to keep you interested? Don't give me a message, take me somewhere I haven't been. If you've seen a Robert Altman movie, you've seen poetry, not Hollywood movie-of-the-week preaching (not to mention the structure of this film done in a significantly more advanced powerful way) Crash seeks poetry but gets sidetracked in its need to "educate" us. It's ok to be moved by it, but the careful watcher, and in my mind that's one that has and will be touched again by poetry (i.e., that should be all of us), should have little red siren lights going off inside during a viewing of this movie. It would be innocuous were it not so lauded. Compared to the other contenders, it's a lightweight in the poetry dept. Sorry. Got pissed at the rest of the world over a flick again.

2-12-06 I Came Here In a Time Machine That You Invented!

Well...heh...slackity slack slack. Yeah. I've been all-consumed by the rampages of school. Same old yadda-yadda so on and so forth excuses. But here, due to lack of inspiration, will be ensuing dryness and, perhaps, grammatical errors abounding. Feh.

I don't have much to report, save the upteenth attempt at catapulting the monkey festooned like a boil onto this ol' back a mine has brought me closer and closer to success. I may very well have life in me again, once I stop quelching it, and all concommitant troublesome emotions that go along with it. Yea, says I.

Oh, specifics? Not a lot to report. I'm reading a bit, going to classes, acting in a scene, have gone through another improv scene that went fairly well, as I auteured the hell out of it (i.e., overworked it like Faye Dunaway. It was its sister and its daughter, etc.)

I didn't mean to take this long to update, but my verbal side has lost its way of late, it must be filled. Quiet. You. You know who you are. Anyway, alls I know is, I've heard tell of a Brno-reunion tour in the summer, and I want details. Who's game? Who's goin? Where's the beef on that? I want my Dutch/British/Czech/Polish/Ameriky hook-up. You know who you are. Also, Cara, I signed your thing. So, party, party, party. That's what I want. Plus, Czech beer. And perhaps some Gulash at the Pod.

Ultimately, a lack of updates on my part may indicate either a lack of seeing lately with the inner-eye, or a shifting of energies towards non-verbal vocations, or, simplys, I gots nothin. But, the ebb will flow back to me. See you when that happens.

Let people be reasonable whose families were not held prisoner:The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay

Music:Response: I want the new Tipper album

12-31-05 Horton Hears a Bitch

Ervnk Forever, Baby. Forever.

Happy New Year, Everybody. With sentiment that's not altogether undue on my part, I can say it's been a crazy one. Diky, Kamarady (Hey,if my grammar is wrong there, can you tell me, Andrew?)

The crickets and the rust-beetles scuttled among the nettles of the sage thicket. "V�monos, amigos," he whispered, and threw the busted leather flintcraw over the loose weave of the saddlecock. And they rode on in the friscalating dusklight.

12-29-05 Crap. I'm sick today. Feverishly ill. Reminds me of Poland aught Four. I think I'm allergic to cheese and crackers and bread. Or maybe I just eat too much. Anyway, sorry for those who were going to Barley's tonight or those who I haven't seen in several days, but I won't be able to make it out to Knoxvegas tonight. I'm gonna have to save it for NYE. And now, without further ado:

Top Ten Flicks of 2005

10)Closer

09)Million Dollar Baby

08)Undertow

07)King Kong

06)Sin City

05)Good Night, and Good Luck

04)The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

03)Oldboy

02)Broken Flowers

01)Munich

This, of course, includes movies I couldn't see at the release date, or had to wait for due to being in Brno. No, I don't care if some of them came out the year before last. Ok, time for more fluids.

12-17-05 I can't say nothing about this, but I'm still a little dumbfounded by its randomness. John Spencer will always be a hero.

In other news, The Five Obstructions is the best road movie of all time. Seriously, I wanted to write more about that, but I'm gonna have to save it for later.

12-4-05 I didn't forget about this, it just got sidetracked in the rubble of the week's dead-ends and Hi-Theres! dropped from B-29s flying over the labor camps of my soul. So. Without further ado, tis my toast to the Knockinest of Knockers, the Jewels of the Snarky Nile, Holly's Titties.

What's Past is Prologue

Recent devlopments have made it possible for me to extoll the virtues of the great rocks of Anderson, without any need to worry about impropriety. Was true always that these motzah balls would spin the dreidel of any Jewish liberal-Media-Hollywood elites, and true, the test of time will show it, and she'll use it to her advantage. Will she use her cream puffs to sleep her way to the top? It's for her to decide, for what her angel cakes bestow upon us is majesty, from brook to brook, creek to creek, from Steak'N'Slash to hideous squid-puppet induced nightmares of sycophants laid low by a knock from her artichokes. Those babylons could sink Babylon, her saline bags halt the approach of those too meager to match words over a bowl of soup, and true, in that case, her dynamic duo marked our territory.

Wicked, trixy, false, her frontal female water wings are a testament to natural sculpture. Truly, forsooth, there must be divine inspiration if such hottentots were thus made hotter. What's this hottentot got that we ain't got? Epic tits. May the world watch with wonder at the dead heat in a zeppelin race that is her rack. Mazel Tov.

P.S. Holly's tits are huge and Real.

Used as Reference: Joe Bobb Briggs' Exhaustive Boob Synonym List

Allen Daviau, my phone number is 423-432-2781: The Color Purple, Empire of the Sun

11-29-05 Much better today. Much better. Amazing what a paper written, a little sleep, a cookie, and a good rehearsal can do. It's all chemicals I tells ya. All chemicals. Did I mention that none of yesterday's frustration was in any way shape or form directed at anyone but myself?

11-26-05 Viddy the charts, oh my brothers. Choonage most well. Shaka, when the walls fell.

11-23-05 Yeah. I lied about that real update coming soon, but for now, I must, bearing not a whit of concern for those having trod the righteous path before me, in all heedless euphoria, express my gratitude unto Sorkinus Smartypantsum for Season Four of The West Wing. No. No. Don't care if I'm the first or the millionth to say, because I noticed it as soon as I saw it and not even two seconds after (though I ain't finished with it yet, and you better not watch it only once), that it is a firecracker. The fourth season, more than any other, is an effortless display of balls. Cahones. Big Brass Ones. Gonads of relentless idealism. Testes. Thanks for the testes, Sorkie.

Choons: Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning

Never Journeymen: Good Night, and Good Luck, Sin City, You Can Count On Me, Naussica of the Valley of the Wind, Barton Fink, 20 Hours In America

Haunted by dreams of Harry Houdini: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay

Peace - Jailbird

11-18-05 Real update soon. Show is almost over. Am half-alive and half engergetic. I have finally seen the light, which the new front pic will demonstrate. Wow. Rock me, Rob Rodriguez.

10-30-05 What fun! One indictment is not enough.

10-24-05

I Don't Know If It's True, But I Keep It For Good Luck

Breathing room has set in. Sure. Twist my arm. You got it, Andrew, and now a brisk walk into the quotidian, or maybe not. My ability to discern between the mundane and its opposite has been largely diminished by the act of latching onto small details. My life as of the past few weeks is certainly sound and fury, with what it signifies (be it nothing or everything) being an enigma floating in perfume served in a man's hat.

I'm stage managing our second show for this semester. The daily question I ask myself is, "Am I living up to this?" Of course I am. It's my first time in this role, and I'm feeling more addled than I should. That has more to do with my own insecurities than the actual work itelf. Plus, I'm under the aegis of someone that brings out all of my insecurities at once. I don't think he does it on purpose. I think it's something in me I must get beyond. Not going into that right now, though. I'll save my energy. I know fer sure that I'm dedicated to the job, and I'll keep doing it better everyday. I'll evaluate it later, though.

Rachel, you should know that you're doing a wonderful job. I don't know what I'd do without you. I know these past few weeks have tried your patience. I can't wait to see what you do after this. I've enjoyed these past four weekends or so. People have been at my house. I woke up to breakfast being cooked the other day. What more could I ask for? Andrew, Jef, I hope to see you guys soon, if at all possible. Richard, Michael, Agnes, Kasia. Well, you're on the better continent. I'm going to have to earn some cashmoney.

Geez, when did I start cribbing from Hemingway-structure? She was tall and had a smile, indeed.

Inflix: You Can Count On Me, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, I Vitelloni

Outflix: Crimes and Misdemeanors, Sweet and Lowdown

One DJ Sans Three MCs: Unkle - Reign (False Prophet Mix)

Soon to be Prepped, Stuffed, and Served on a Studio Stage: Spinning Into Butter (A Scene from)

10-3-05 So, whilst I'm in the computer lab, mediating the deposit of secret magic stuff (oh it's printed on paper, but it's very magical), I guess I should get down to brass tacks and update a lonely ol' startossed webpage. It was nice to have this scribble-pad with me in darkest as well as the most light-filled places last year. It became something else. The need ran deep, and the words came out. My resources, now flowing elsewhere, have inevitably suffered nourishment from not writing here. Who knew? When I'm reading regularly and writing regularly I think and work more clearly. Action happens. When it's not, and I'm moving too fast and skipping steps, I don't write. Terror. This is a bad place to be.

I haven't begun to approach writing about what was a breath away all.year.long. And that is of course, the death of my father. Wouldn't it be a bit of a stretch to do that here? I'm at the point where I don't care about that. Fine, I want attention. You clicked the link, read the lines or leave. It's up to you. There's still a kingdom here for all of us, predominantly one to flex the wit muscle, and no I'm not talking about your pals in the winnebago, but pretty soon, and inevitably, I've got to work through a lot of shit I haven't. Now, I'm a studious enough watcher of 8 1/2 to know that solving one's personal shit is not necessarily going to unlock what's hidden creatively. Better yet to use it, except my relationship with my father is tied in so deeply with the stories I want to tell that to purge that pain (or try, anyways) here could be extremely dangerous. Or it could just open some doors to new frontiers. I dunno, you weigh the bad and the good. With the addition of chocolate to the old world was an accompanying syphyllitic outbreak. We cured it, yeah? Not the chocolate I mean, oh heavens, no. We didn't cure that. So, I'm weighing and considering, but watch this space. Something's gonna happen, I just ain't much for small talk, and wit doesn't extend itself right now in too wide a way.

Those of you, whom I love, and you know who you are, Consider: I've reentered a world, left one I would've stayed for had it not been for you, am reintroducing myself to the stressful (but let's cross our fingers awaiting that rewarding part) world of theatre. The people I'm closest too in Chattanooga are as busy as I am, but we're there for each other. Other than that, the rest of the people I love are scattered around the world. It's a new feeling. I'm not used to it. Life keeps pushing you into different stages of loneliness. No matter where you turn, or who you're with, part of you is lonely. I'm in the relative stages of lonely that exist out of absent friends. I'm not the only one feelin' that. I'm not unhappy, by any means. I'm very productive. Uprooted, but productive. Watch this space.

WAITING FOR: Scene-choice approval, vis. Directing Project

Flick This: The Designated Mourner, This So-Called Disaster, Au Hasard Balthazar, The Constant Gardener, Wild At Heart, Murderball, Wit, Six Feet Under Season 4

9-26-05 Go Go Gadget mourning....I need to see if they have The Nude Bomb on Netflix. How sad.

9-9-05 Of course, having said that, it seems inevitable that to discuss such things in a time of crisis is rather trivial. Most updates from around this here web-kindgom have made mention of the recent disaster, with links to the Red Cross, etc. It's no secret that people in a position of responsibility are continually allowing the lives of thousands to be ruined here and around the world. We must confront this kind of problem with a focused dedication to excellence and stability. That's the job for our adult eyes. The eyes of our former selves could help save us from the wrath this world, in both human and unstoppable forms, will bring to us.

9-9-05 Our culture is a trap. We live in an emotional pushme-pullyou for one simple reason: We don't let ourselves take anything seriously anymore. The seriousness I'm referring to has nothing to do with the perception of seriousness we hold for adulthood. All that should be is dedication. Aside from that dedication, we shouldn't take ourselves too seriously at all. The seriousness we're losing is childlike, mimetic, curious. Why is it I feel like I'm victim to a loss of my young eyes? I don't let them do much for me anymore. I suppose it's a response to life getting more and more complex while simultaneously leaving me less and less time to manage it. Where do I put this problem? People are in serious need of a place to turn to. We haven't evolved beyond a need for something outside of ourselves, but we're still rejecting all too quickly our willingness to indulge in absurdity. Wild, rich absurdity is what we need, yes? Yeah, you know it.

When you're a kid you can accept and play with anything. Let's not let this hard world rob us of that, ok? And hey, if it isn't, you either know that or you don't. If I were you I wouldn't think about it too much.

Hey, if you're looking for evidence backing up this airtight theory, check the title of this page and go to sleep right now.

Exactly: Bottle Rocket

Enjoying: Phonemic Spelling

FUCK: Every play that lacks two/three women scenes that have strong climaxes and at least three distinct units. I'm looking at you, Western Canon.

Nothin' That I Wouldn't Try: Gameboy Variations - Beck

8-28-05 So, back from the set and coverin' all bets. First week was all good. Our apartment is pretty much the dog's balls. Chattanooga, when it stops being hotter than Satan's jockstrap, is going to be a really, really nice place to live again. Missed it much. I'm sorry to have to report that my syntactical sense of clout is clouded by the weekend. This is mainly because the start of it was fueled by Bulleit, until about 4:00am the other morning. Last night, I was up 'til Jesus-balls 0'clock watching Short Cuts, a perfectly jocular, amniotic spectre that left me wanting even another hour of it. I'm working on finding directing scenes, getting myself into shape, perhaps knocking the cancer monkey off my back (though the less I make of that, the better. Try and make plans in that respect. See what it gets you. Plans are nice, but they seldom work out according to, well...) Am still missing Brno very much. The United States is racing towards something on a daily basis, and things are actually getting worse, not better. We need to slow down. K.

I'm currently becoming familiar with the various possible uses of the OED, for a class, and all I can say is, imagine how much valuable wanking time these philologists had to give up to compile this lexical overkill. Ok. overkill is the wrong word. I'm just going to have to get a portable edition someday. Yup. Posts like these are a reminder that I should wait until I'm brutally insane to write on this thing like a responsible blogger.

Hidden Cameras: Secret Honor, Short Cuts, Six Feet Under season 3

Whose Bright Idea Was it to Bring This Shit to the White House?: Jailbird - Vonnegut

8-23-05 Umm....Fine...whatever...

8-22-05 This Just In:

He opened with Hip Hop Phenomenon. That is all.

8-14-05 So, here's something a little unusual. See, this guy's Nate. I met him once, very briefly, during a completely unnecessary time I spent making voodoo dolls out of this Fuck of Godless Couches (yeah, that extra nipple you suddenly got is my fault, buddy. Hope it comes in handy. I'm terrible at cursing people), and well, of course, subsequently, I have heard no end of resonating praises sung deeply and with zestfully clean sincerity all leveled in his name. Basically, Nate, if you find out about this or randomly scroll onto this page from Andrew's blog (and boy was the sentence prior to this one convoluted. Just doin' my job), just know that I do so simply because I enjoy reading your page and will remember to more often if it's linked here. Now, of course, you'll have to have a nickname. It's your speedo and redcap. They're all in good fun. You join a fine and select line of weltschmertz simply by unwanted acquisition of said moniker. K. Done with that.

To all my Brnenske Bratra (feel free to correct that, Wacky Slav (I almost typed Wacky Slaw. In American that makes you a side order). What? How Parenthetical can I get? Someone call Strunk and his punk bitch White), I apologize for my slumming in the non-posting/emailing nebula. I really will do better.

Tangent! Family Guy just kinda blows right now. Very sad. They've written themselves a licence to get away with anything they can. Well, that's something any comedy should strive for, but could you guys write yourselves that old licence that got your show back on the air? The one where you try for the funny? Seriously, this is Jerky Boys you're gettin' at, here, not Family Guy. I'm done now. Moving into my phat hot stylish apartment on Friday. The floor wood be hard (NOT ONE WORD). And I've always coveted that bookshelf attached to the very foundation.

The main pic today is of the buildings seen from our balcony in Brno. It is Masada, you see.

My exoskeleton is Tingling: The Mars Volta

My Nuts: Overdrawn at the Memory Bank

Onanism:The Incredibles

Malick Who?: George Washington

8-4-05 Readjusted. Sort of. You know, one big difference is time. Over there, it seems like civilization moves at the pace you want it to. Time is not dictated to you in flurried blocks like it seems to be here. Maybe it's TV/radio (but who are we kidding? It's TV), or maybe it's school comin' soon; everybody's moving, everybody's in throes of love, or just plain caught up in work. I dunno. I just know that it seems so desolate here. Where'd everybody go? I see people walking around slowly, with a strange and feeble purpose. Everybody's.....well.....not monosyllabic...exactly. I'd call 'em syllables if I heard actual words.

I don't hear words, though. Just grunts. Screams. It's the land of the damned. There's no time. No time to read. This one bloke just thought I was a gnosh. Really. That's just rude. Bandaged myself up, everything's ok. Hmm...I've been getting more tired lately. Anyway, just my metabolism responding to delicious food I haven't had in awhile. That's ok. I've gained some weight, but only marginally. My body feels pretty heavy. Heavier than usual. Ah well, cheer up, I say! I can get back to readin' and dreamin' and man, Arbies is just delicious. Delicious, delicious Arbies Arbies arteries, Artbies ARteries, MMMmmm...glargh. Oh yes. Huh.....What? What? Sibilance.....Hrm....huh....Penguins....I would eat themt too....oooh...gurp...oh Lord. Won't you buy me a mercedies Benz my friends all drive Porsces BRAIIINSSS!@ I must make amends...worked hard rfor a lifetime. no hLep from mY HF(Rends. OH HLORDS>>>BRAAAAAAINS>..Won't you buy me a mercedies BENZ.....

Readin' Not As Much as I used to: Small Gods -Pratchett

Latest Flicks: Shaun of the Dead, Land of the Dead, Dawn of the Dead, Dawn of the Dead, 28 Days Later

Song I'd Most Like To Hear While Running Down Zombies In A Truck (Or eating Brains): Plastic Jesus - Flaming Lips