Homonemia; riverbeds; going up—
The inimitable ginmar saw Alexander and the second Bridget Jones movie in a theater that was apparently deep in the heart of the Unheimlichsenke, and what she has to say about the power dynamics of desire and being an object of desire end up cutting a lot closer to the heart of what Jed was getting at back in the summer of ’03 than, you know, the really quite terribly simple idea of tokening up your futurefic with a (fully realized) gay character (or two), no matter how happily ensconced in a fulfilling relationship well-validated by those about them. —This isn’t about tolerance, people; it’s about building new worlds. Even if only on paper.
Right now, I’m trying to figure out why my brain’s insisting on holding Victor/Victoria up against “The Riverbed of the World.” My next move apparently lies in limning how each does what it does and yet doesn’t what it wants done; when I get that figured out, I’ll make it. (Maybe I’ll stick ’em in a room for a bit and let ’em interrogate each other.) —If nothing else, it’s been instructive to reflect on how a contained, mythologized setting such as the theatrical demimonde can, like the aggressively (didactically) otherworldly settings of (some) SF, serve as a source of that paradoxical ostranenie the audience expects: the unheimlich that isn’t. Just, you know, not as much. —But that leaves me feeling like I’m on the verge of telling everyone something they already know, so maybe instead I’ll point out how much fun it is to read The Intuitionist as an SF novel? (Though it was odd, running into Ben Urich like that.)
Next year, in Glocca Morra.
(I’ve really got to work on the posting slump that seems to hit me every January or so, right about when folks start sniffing around for places to put their Koufax votes, you know?) —Oh, hey! The winners have been announced. Go, look, see. Me, I’m just gonna highlight Mouse Words, who handily trounced James Wolcott and Michael Bérubé to walk off with the Best New Blog award. No mean feat, that.
Pitchforking.
I don’t read enough to know whether we really ought to stop reading it to save all of music journalism, but what I have read bugs me just enough to make me not all that eager to read more. I mean, the comparison that opens the thing I’m going to talk about in a minute, with the “food bands” and “not since Cibo Matto,” sure, it makes a quirky-cute sort of sense, I suppose, since Cibo Matto had a lot of songs about food on Viva! La Woman, okay, but still, I mean, you end up juxtaposing Cibo Matto and the Books as if the logic of your lede hadn’t just leaped the bounds of common sense and run amok through your CD collection, grabbing referents willy-nill. You can almost smell the flopsweat: the writer, staring at the screen, cudgelling their forebrain for a taste of something quirky-cute to get you to read on, spinning aimlessly in an Æron chair picked up cheap at a dot-bomb clearance sale—okay, maybe that’s a bit much, but when they reach down to pick up the pencil that fell from the ceiling tile where they’d stuck it with a perfect wrist-flip toss maybe fifteen minutes before, they happen upon sitting back up, pencil in hand, to glance down at the bog-standard press pack and note that when asked to describe themselves the Books came up with “blipworld / fakegrass / speedblues / chamberclick / eccentrock / country&eastern / glitch post-anything music with samples,” and then followed that up with “food band.” And the writer sighs and says food band, Cibo Matto, whatever, let’s run with it, I’ve got to get this fucking blurb finished for God’s sake.
Maybe it didn’t happen that way. Whatever. For once I don’t care so much about form, not when there’s content that makes me sit up and cheer like this:
Late in the ’04, The Books finished their latest full-length, Lost and Safe, which has been set for an April 5 release on Tomlab.
And look! Right underneath it! The Decemberists’ new album, Picaresque! Out on the 22nd of March! And they’re touring, too! And Petra Haden’s with them! In Portland on the 17th!
So, yeah, you say stuff like that enough of the time, it doesn’t matter so much how you go about saying it. I guess. Maybe.
Sponge 1, kulturkampf 0.
I’m not a huge fan of the comments over at Kevin Drum’s place. I’m usually not that fond of the comments on high-traffic political sites: slapshot chuckles, me-too high-fives, the distressing propensity of entirely too many no matter their ostensible politics to get all chest-thumpy and dick-wavy—really, the sheer number of smoke-this-suck-that-stick-it-where-they-ain’t-no-lube I wade through sometimes makes me think that evolutionary psychologists aren’t all blowing smoke, and the serious business of government is nothing more than primate dominance dynamics with keyboards. —Political Animal isn’t so much with the sodomite-catamite power struggle, and his own personal trolls Al and Charlie saw their shadows a while ago, or something, and don’t come out from under their bridges so much these days, but the dreary Camazotzian drone of Tim Graham Kevin’s Konscience still ends up suffocating most threads with the tragic call-and-response that violates rule no. 1 of the internet everywhere.
Still, I’m glad I cruised through the remarks following Amy Sullivan’s recent post on Tinky Winky 2: Porifera Boogaloo. If I’d written it off, I’d’ve missed the wonderful Gospel according to NTodd:
Does that mean I can wear cotton/wool blend pants, and touch my wife during her period?
Yes. The sponge has set us free.
(Really, I’m shocked at the good Doctor Stickypants’ sadly slackening grasp of the Zeitgeist. Everybody knows Spongebob is all about the stoners.)
And just what the hell is up with all that coal in Newcastle, huh?
So I’ve got a minute (a single, precious, golden minute) while I’m waiting for a database to rebuild its sorry ass, and what do I do with it? I go check out the Ain’t it Cool report on last night’s Serenity screening, that’s what I do. —Spoiler free, y’all. Almost entirely. Anyway. What else did I do? I scrolled the messages posted at the bottom (since rebuilding its sorry ass takes more than a single, precious, golden minute: I also calculated next week’s production, figured out some staffing issues, and pulled an executive decision about a document type from thin air), that’s what I did, and buried in the shitstorm, I stumbled over this gem of a plaintive cry for help:
Fucking sci-fi fanboy shit. That’s all this site cares about anymore.
Too true! Too true!
Ladies and gentlemen—
—the Finnish Men’s Shouting Choir.
Things to remember.
I’d never suggest How Much for Just the Planet? was in the same league as Singin’ in the Rain; not as sublimely silly, for one thing, but neither is it so athletically earnest. —But it’s all a matter of degree and not of kind: I would not hesitate, would in fact leap to recommend it, as an antidote to the sort of day I’ve had. Splash of Maker’s Mark and sleepy kitten optional.
(When the old skool Klingon security officer Happy Gilmores his first tee-off to within thirty yards of the green, you will have to pick the kitten back up and apologize most sincerely for having giggled him off your chest and onto the floor. I’m just sayin’.)
Utterly unrelated (except in all the ways it’s not), you have got to get yourself some Lady Sovereign. Read here, here, and, oh, here; then download here and, oh, shit yeah, here, while you still can.
Added bonus.
While cruising some Goats-related sites on the internet for the bit prior, I stumbled across as neat a piece of writing advice as you could ask for, tossed off the cuff of an engaging interview. So, ladies and gentlemen, the Mountain Goat himself, John Darnielle:
The problem with most people that write that way is that they focus more on “is it true?” than “is it good writing?” Most things don’t resonate when they’re true; it’s how the audience hears it when it doesn’t have anything to do with them. So I’ve always been resistant towards that, from since I was a kid and wanted to become a writer. They’d say, write about what you know, and I’d say I’m a fucking kid! [laughs] I don’t know anything—I wanna write about monsters! But at the same time, I think my new songs are so much better than the old songs, and they’re more rooted in truth. I guess what I’m going at is, first learn to write, then try to write about yourself, once you’re able to distance yourself, to lose the notion that what was so spectacular to you isn’t necessarily so spectacular to everyone.
“...the first time as satire, the second as product launch.”
These guys probably thought they were being funny.
We buy Kenworth semi chassis and build SUVs on them. Shown is the Dominator model, which includes the eight rear wheels for handling those trips to Sam’s Club.
FEATURES:
- Fits under most bridge underpasses.
- The first SUV to be rated in Gallons per Mile by the EPA
- Meet interesting people while waiting in line at Interstate Weight Stations.
- When kids do the arm signal, you get to honk that really cool air horn!
- Get a big rush when your Firestone tires blow out.
- Lots of road-hugging weight for occupant protection, the ultimate in safety.
- Can seat 20. Go ahead, take the whole soccer team.
- Can tow your camper, yacht, a trailer-load of frozen pizzas, or even your house!
- Yours for under $200,000 ($100,000 for truck chassis + $100,000 standard SUV markup)
But no—they were visionaries.
POSSIBLY TOO MUCH TRUCK. LIKE THAT’S A PROBLEM.
Your eyes don’t deceive you. It’s a pickup truck. From International. Which makes it much more than a pickup truck. It’s an International®CXT—born out of the proven International 7300 severe service truck used by professionals for the most rugged applications.
So you get all the attributes of a commercial truck—but you don’t need a commercial driver’s license to drive it.*
The legendary International®DT 466 diesel engine provides up to 6 tons of hauling power.** The air-ride cab and seats provide an exceptionally smooth ride. And aspacious (sic) and well-appointed interior ensures automotive-like comfort and convenience.
The result of more than a century of leadership in the truck market, the International CXT delivers performance. In a big way
*State restrictions may apply. Talk to your local motor vehicle department.
**Tow hitch required at extra cost.
Bushgate.
James Wolcott’s take is funnier, but the Editors are far more shrill. —Also, the Editors out-do Josh Marshall’s I-will-show-you-hardball-in-a-handful-of-dusty-paperwork hints one better, with some actual slivers of red meat.
On the other hand, last minute perusal of hithery-thithery pings brings up a pithy post from Majikthise, which will prove, I’m afraid, all too germane to, well, everything.
(Sir, I’m worried about our mood swings.)
Hot or Nazi?
Oh, go read Barry’s latest. If you manage not to spit coffee over the keyboard at his favorite quote, I’ll give you a dollar.
No actual dollars will be exchanged. Offer expires soon enough. Void where prohibited by law, and Oregon.
Why, yes. I would jump off a bridge just like everybody else.
Kelly; Gatsby; Ellington; cats; Picasso; Yeats; Keaton; O’Connor; To Have and Have Not; de Kooning; The Who; Larkin; dunno from Trollope, so pass; Holliday; can I pass without admitting that I’ve yet to go through a Russian phase; I think I’d prefer Greene, but pass; Graham; vegetarian, but burgers; Letterman, for fuck’s sake; Cat Power; Verdi; Monroe; Cash; I’ll punt the Amis question; Mitchum; Morris; Vermeer; Tchaikovsky; this is like a question between wine and, you know, that light stuff you drink when it’s hot; Coward; Grosse Pointe Blank; pass; and pass again; Turner; also, I’ve never really gone through a ’50s revisionist Western period, so pass; comedy; fall, though we prefer autumn; Sopranos; Gershwin and Gershwin; James; sunrise (one loves more the rarer seen); Porter; Mac, for God’s sake; New York ditto; um, pass; Van Gogh; Elvis Costello; blog; Olivier; which one has “Luck be a Lady”?; Chinatown; Election; minimalism; Daffy; the very question is telling, but hey: post, baby; Batman; Emmylou Harris has really long hair, and I like her voice, but I know little else and nothing at all about Lucinda Williams, so pass; Johnson, because, hey, dictionary; I’m going to, um, pass; Dick Van Dyke; Eames; I love Double Indemnity, but I haven’t seen Out of the Past, and I want to, so pass; Die Zauberflöte, so pass; green; Midsummer’s; opera; theatre (theater is the building, dear boy); one could not possibly decide this one without more context, so pass; Northwest; Sargent; I haven’t even read enough Kundera, so pass; Music Man (another head-scratcher); I’m a vegetarian, I eat sushi, do the math; I’m going to punt this one, Alex; Albee; I haven’t read Dove, so pass; who? what? (pass); Wright; again with the who and the what and the pass; watercolor; subway (when I can get it); Stravinsky; neither, but crunchy, if I must; mumble mumble (pass); Mozart; the ’20s; Moby-Dick; I need to get a grip on Mann, so pass; I’ve heard one, I think, but not the other, or maybe I have, but anyway, pass; Dickinson; Lincoln; Mann; Italian; and I think I’ll be blasphemous and agree: piano; ate them once in Italy and, well, that’s not why I’m a vegetarian, but I’ll have to go with no; long—no, longer—keep going, no, I need some more—a bit more—another epilogue? Sure—oh, a few more pages couldn’t hurt anybody—is that it? Are you done?; swing (which feels like a failing); Judgment, baby. —Which gives me a TCCI of 55%; that, and a buck-fifty, and I can get a 16 oz. coffee tomorrow, with a little room for cream.
Piece out.
I keep forgetting to snag a snap of a no fish, so until then: Hitherby Dragons backs ever-so-insouciantly into the grand pieblogging meme.
Related words.
Pigment: Adrianople red, Alice blue, Arabian red, Argos brown, Bordeaux, Brunswick black, Brunswick blue, Burgundy, Capri blue, Cassel yellow, Chinese blue, Chinese white, Claude tint, Cologne brown, Columbian red, Congo rubine, Copenhagen blue, Dresden blue, Dutch orange, Egyptian green, English red, French blue, French gray, Gobelin blue, Goya, Guinea green, India pink, Indian red, Irish green, Janus green, Kelly green, Kendal green, Kildare green, Lincoln green, Majolica earth, Mars orange, Mars violet, Mexican red, Mitis green, Montpellier green, Nile green, Paris green, Paris yellow, Persian blue, Persian red, Pompeian blue, Prussian blue, Prussian red, Quaker green, Roman umber, Saint Benoit, Saxe blue, Saxony green, Schweinfurt green, Spanish green, Spanish ocher, Tanagra, Titian, Turkey red, Turkey umber, Tyrian purple, Vandyke red, Vienna green, Wedgwood blue, Wedgwood green, absinthe, acid yellow, acier, acorn, air brush, alabaster, alesan, alizarin brown, amber, amethyst, amidonaphthol red, aniline black, aniline blue, annatto, anthracene brown, anthragallol, antique brown, antique gold, apple green, apply paint, apricot, aqua green, aquamarine, arsenic yellow, art paper, ash, ash gray, aureolin, autumn leaf, avocado green, azo blue, azo-orange, azulene, azure, azurite blue, baby blue, barium sulfate, bat, bedaub, bedizen, begild, benzoazurine, beryl, beryl green, besmear, bice, biscuit, bister, blanc fixe, bleu celeste, blond, blue black, blue turquoise, bone black, bone brown, bottle green, bracken, bright rose, brush, brush on paint, buff, bunny brown, burgundy, burnt Roman ocher, burnt almond, burnt carmine, burnt ocher, burnt rose, burnt sienna, butter, cadet blue, cadmium orange, cadmium yellow, cafe noir, calamine blue, calcimine, camera lucida, camera obscura, canary, canvas, carbon black, cardinal, carmine, carnation, carnelian, carotene, celadon, cerulean, chalk, chamois, champagne, charcoal, chartreuse, chartreuse green, chartreuse tint, chartreuse yellow, chestnut, chrome, chrome black, chrome lemon, chrome orange, chrome oxide green, chrome red, chrome yellow, chromogen, chrysophenin, chrysoprase green, ciba blue, cinder gray, cinnabar, citron green, civette green, claret, clematis, cloud gray, coat, coat of paint, coating, cobalt, cobalt green, cochineal, coconut, color filter, color gelatin, colorant, coloring, copper, copper red, coptic, corbeau, cordovan, cornflower, cover, cramoisie, crash, crayon, cream, cresol red, crimson, crocus, crystal gray, cucumber green, cyan, cyanine blue, cypress green, dab, dahlia, damask, damson, dandelion, daub, dead leaf, dead-color, deep-dye, delft blue, dip, distemper, doeskin, double-dye, dove gray, drab, drawing paper, drawing pencil, drier, drop black, duck green, dun, dyestuff, easel, eggshell, emblazon, emerald, emeraude, enamel, engild, exterior paint, face, faded rose, fast-dye, fiesta, fir, fire red, fixative, flat coat, flat wash, flax, flesh, flesh color, flesh red, floor enamel, foliage brown, fox, fresco, fuchsia, fuchsine, gamboge, garter blue, gild, glauconite, glaucous, glaucous blue, glaucous gray, glaucous green, glaze, gloss, golden pheasant, grain, grape, grass green, green ocher, grege, ground, gun metal, hazel, helianthin, heliotrope, henna, holly green, honey, honey yellow, hyacinth, hyacinth red, illuminate, imbue, imperial purple, incarnadine, indigo, indigo white, infrared, ingrain, interior paint, iron gray, iron red, isamine blue, ivory, ivory black, jade, japan, jockey, jonquil, jouvence blue, lacquer, lake, lampblack, lapis lazuli blue, lavender, lavender blue, lay figure, lay on color, lead gray, leaf green, leather, lemon chrome, light red, lilac, liver brown, livid pink, lobster, madder, madder blue, madder crimson, madder lake, madder orange, madder pink, madder rose, madder yellow, magenta, maize, malachite green, mallow, mallow pink, mandarin, maple sugar, marigold, marine blue, maroon, massicot, maulstick, mauve, meadow brook, medium, melon, metanil yellow, methyl green, methyl orange, methyl yellow, methylene azure, methylene blue, mignonette, milori green, moleskin, monsignor, moonlight, moss green, mouse gray, mulberry, mummy, murrey, myrtle, naphthol yellow, navy, navy blue, negro, neutral tint, new blue, ocher brown, ocher orange, ocher red, oil yellow, old blue, old gold, old ivory, old red, olive, olive brown, olivesheen, opal gray, opaque color, orange chrome yellow, orange lead, orange madder, orange mineral, orange ocher, orchid, orchid rose, oriole, orpiment, orpiment red, otter brown, oxblood, oxide brown, paint, paintbrush, palette, palette knife, palladium red, pansy, pansy violet, parget, parrot green, partridge, pastel, patina green, pea green, peach, peachblossom pink, peacock blue, pearl, pearl gray, pebble, pelican, pencil, pepper-and-salt, philamot, phosphine, pigments, platinum, plum, plumbago gray, pompadour green, ponceau, pontiff purple, poppy, powder blue, powder gray, prime, prime coat, primer, priming, primrose, primuline yellow, puce, pumpkin, purple lake, purree, pyrethrum yellow, quince yellow, raisin, raw sienna, raw umber, realgar, realgar orange, red lead, red ocher, red pink, regal purple, reseda, resorcin dark brown, roan, roccellin, rose, rose pink, royal pink, royal purple, rubine, ruby, ruddle, russet, saffron, salmon, sand, sap green, scarlet madder, scratchboard, sea blue, sea-water green, seal, serpentine green, shadow, shamrock, shell pink, shellac, shocking pink, siccative, silver, sketchbook, sketchpad, sky blue, slop on paint, smalt, smear, smoke blue, smoke gray, snapdragon, solferino, spatula, spray gun, stammel, steel blue, steel gray, stil-de-grain yellow, stipple, straw, strawberry, stump, sulfur, sunflower yellow, suntan, tangerine, tartrazine, taupe, tawny, tea rose, tempera, tenne, terra cotta, terra sienna, terra umbra, terre-verte, thinner, tinct, tinction, tinge, toast, toluidine red, tone, topaz, transparent color, trypan blue, turpentine, turps, turquoise, ultramarine, umber, undercoat, undercoating, varnish, vehicle, verd gay, verdant green, verdet, verdigris, vermilionette, violet, viridian, viridine green, wash, wash coat, white lead, whitewash, wine, wine purple, woad, xanthene, xanthin, yellow madder, yellow ocher, zaffer, zinc orange, zinc oxide, zinc sulfide, zinc white.
Some unsolicited advice.
Ang? Buddy? When you set out to make a controversial movie about a couple of gay cowboys, and you cast a couple of matinee bishonen like Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger as the two romantic leads, well, you raise certain expectations in certain quarters. And then when you announce maybe you’re going to back off from any actual sex scenes, preferring a more metaphorical approach, because “two men herding sheep [i]s far more sexual than two men having sex on screen,” well, you pretty much fuck those expectations over, let me tell you. —People are going to think you’re a wimp, and a sissy, and a big ol’ fraidy-cat. You really want to take that hit after the Hulk?
Let ’em make with the man-love, Ang. Won’t hurt you a bit, and trust me: the ladies will love you for it.
Signs and wonders.
Hitting a paragraph like this in the introduction is either something very good or very, very bad:
To forestall uneasiness on the part of the reader when confronted with statements which are too shocking, primarily that we continue to live in a world in which magic still has a part to play and a place of honor, we have let the texts speak for themselves. We have, in the reader’s behalf, assumed the burden of understanding them in letter and in spirit. After all, the conclusions we have drawn seem to us adequate recompense for the painstaking study pursued for twelve years without interruption, study involving philology only as a means, not as an end in itself. The fact that unremitting concentration on the meaning of documents has here supplanted mere reporting of their contents suffices to explain the individuality of this work, an individuality for which we do not believe we must apologize.
Ioan Couliano wrote that in Chicago in May of 1986. In May of 1991, somebody climbed onto a toilet in the stall next to his and, reaching over the wall and down with a .25 caliber Beretta, put a bullet in the back of his head. —So he must have been onto something, right? Right?
