Thursday, June 29, 2006

well, this is the end.

"If you have no advertising in schools at all, it doesn't give our young people an accurate picture of our society."
-- a PepsiCo official, on why soft drink advertising should be allowed in elementary schools

(taken from Food Politics by Marion Nestle)

Monday, June 26, 2006

sesquipedalophobia

Today I finished watching Cinema 16: European Short Films, which surpassed all of my expectations; actually, it's pretty incredible. I'm normally not "in to" short films, but this caught my eye because of all the big names... we're talking Lars von Trier (his graduation piece! It's pretty much exactly what you'd envision if given the prompt "Lars von Trier Graduation Film"), Lukas Moodysson, Jean-Luc Godard, Krzysztof Kieslowski, Anders Thomas Jensen (featuring Ulrich Thomsen of Festen, one of my #1 secret heartthrobs!), and various other Europeans of note. This was also my first experience with Jan Svankmajer (Czech animator), who seems right up my alley, and who I plan to become obsessed with immediately. Of particular interest are several films by directors who either haven't done any feature films, or who've just started their careers (Juan Solanas, Virgil Widrich, and especially the hilarious Javier Fesser)... I'll be keeping an eye out for them. What an amazing dvd!

After watching the Moodysson short, I was looking up his newest film on IMDB (A Hole in My Heart) and noticed that it was out on PAL, so we should be getting that in soon; between that and all the Haneke I've been watching, I should be non-functional for at least several days afterwards. (Apparently, this one is even harder to watch than Lilya 4-Ever -- why am I excited by this?) Anyway, in combing the IMDB chat boards, I found out that both Lilya 4-Ever and A Hole in My Heart are available from Netflix on REGION 1... ?! How? These aren't available anywhere. I asked Geoff, and he said that they must have some exclusive deal, which is ridiculous. This is the exact kind of insidious bullshit that masquerades as customer-friendly policy ("We, Netflix, want to bring the best selection to you, Customer! PS: Not really.")... pardon my paranoid ramblings, but this is going to backfire and get us all in the end. I realize that my "Damn the Man!" ideologies will probably eventually degenerate into me crouching in the back of a darkened hovel, hissing at an errant sunbeam, but for now I'm 24 and it's still kind of cute. Peace, dude!

Friday, June 23, 2006

Mainly: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

In other news, yesterday I actually said, "You are gross!" to a spider. It didn't seem to care what I thought.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

on the nature of love


First of all, this man is my ultimate hero. Oh, Vladimir Nabokov, you are something else. Not only did he write some of the most beautiful prose in existence, he was also a respected Lepidopterist. And a synaesthete! He spoke three languages and wrote puns that required understanding of all three tongues to make any sense of the joke. Every day, I come home and read Ada, and throw it to the ground in disgust, and underline words I don't understand, and get up and pace around the room, and try and try and try to make sense of things, because I want to understand every reference. It is not an easy book. Yet, I'm touched... very, very touched, and I really can't get this book out of my mind. I love her, I need her, I hate her, I'm giving my friend $50 to shoot her in the back of the head, I'll marry her today if she says yes, my oh my, I'm going to die.

Blar-blar. Second of all, I love making lists. Ever since I started Ada, I've been trying to think about who my favorite authors are. I'd say it's pretty clear: Nabokov, Roth, and Kundera. But who is king? I've read more Kundera than any other author, but always in translation. I really don't think I could count him as #1 favorite, since the exact words he labored over were Czech or French... not the ones I'm reading. He's a step removed. I love Kundera for his ideas and thought processes... not so much for his prose style.

So it's Nabokov or Roth, then. I don't know, I don't know! Lately, I think Nabokov edges out Roth by a small margin. Philip Roth does spin a good fucking yarn, though. It's so hard to compare them. With Philip Roth, it's very "What does it mean to be an American? What does it mean to be a member of this generation, or this social group, or this ____?" It's hard to put into words, but Roth really brings out a bittersweet patriotism in me, which I think is the best kind. Yet, with Nabokov, it's more, er... "What does it mean to occupy this small universe inside my head?" It's not even that he especially tries to address something like this (or, I dunno, maybe he does, I get lost in the issues sometimes), but I feel that we are kindred spirits somehow -- sometimes when I'm reading Ada, I feel like it's a giant inside joke that I've written for myself. I don't know, both have these beautiful, epic, human struggles, but they're just so different... Roth makes me turn outward, and Nabokov brings me in to a visceral little place. Perhaps they tie, then. Who knows... it's good to be in love.

My 5 favorite books, then, are (not in order):

* The Plot Against America by Philip Roth
* Immortality by Milan Kundera
* Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
* Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates
* The Master & Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

Ada doesn't count, because I'm not done yet.

Maybe my next update won't be so dry. I have a great story about spilling hamburger grease on a shirt the first time I wore it, so watch for that!

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Progress so far

I've been trying to read a book a week this year... apparently, I've done 19 books in 20 weeks. So far (in rough chronological order):

1. Indecision - Benjamin Kunkel (240pgs)
2. A Year in Provence - Peter Mayle (207)
3. The Flaneur - Edmund White (211)
4. Damage - Josephine Hart (195)
5. A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess (192)
6. The Plot Against America - Philip Roth (391)
7. Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides (529)
8. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov (457)
9. A Mouthful of Air - Anthony Burgess (416)
10. Against Love - Laura Kipnis (207)
11. Woe is I - Patricia O'Connor
12. Paris to the Moon - Adam Gopnik (342)
13. Trainspotting - Irvine Welsh (348)
14. Stories of Roald Dahl - R. Dahl (520)
15. Jitterbug Perfume - Tom Robbins (342)
16. Candide - Voltaire (120)
17. How I Became Stupid - Martin Page (160)
18. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown (489)
19. Ada (in progress) - Vladimir Nabokov (445)

This is 5,593 pages, or 280 pgs/week. Of course, after I started, I realized that anything over 500 pages was tough to do in a week, since I enjoy other activities as well (idleness, drinking). So, I'm focusing a little more on page count, since it's a more accurate reflection of progress, and doesn't penalize for a long, tough book. I'd like to hit 300 pgs a week, at least. DON'T CALL ME, I CAN NOT HANG OUT WITH YOU.

The clear winner so far has been The Plot Against America, a fucking fabulous book that I would recommend to anyone, though I think Ben probably got tired of me talking about it all the time. Other favorites were the Anthony Burgess books, A Clockwork Orange (which really made me love the movie even more) and A Mouthful of Air (a non-fiction book about language); Jitterbug Perfume; Indecision; and The Complete Stories of Roald Dahl (they're stories for adults). And, you know, Lolita. I had actually read Lolita before, but I gave it to Ben for Christmas, so I decided to read it again when he started reading it; somehow I ended up with the annotated version, which was interesting. Or hellish, whatever. In any case, it's a totally different book with the notes, and you probably owe it to yourself to read this version. It's kind of like repeatedly whipping yourself with a giant bunch of thorns, but some people like that. I sorta did.

The clear loser was How I Became Stupid. Since I love tales geared towards disillusioned 20-somethings (since, you know, those are my dawgs) I picked it up, only to have my naive hopes dashed by what I will now dub "Ye Olde Worste Book Ever." Seriously, if you're going to delve into that realm, have a point. "I don't know what to do with my life!" fiction is cool, but it's been done about 84 million times before, so you better do it well. (And, on that note, Indecision succeeds! Until the end. Maybe) As Dave Eggers once said, in some quote that I can't really remember at all and now suspect that I am making up entirely... the lives of people in their early 20's really aren't all that interesting.

Ada is a tough, lovely book, but I'm sure I'll talk more about that either later or never. Who knows!

Epicness



13 Piercings and Still Not Punctured

Youth, how wonderful to sit with you
in the cafeteria, you make Shiva
look like an amputee. I like this jelly,
I say, how they left in the seeds.
Yeah! you pop, and the fact it's flying
at such high speed! Youth, to be with you
is to drive the interstate without a windshield.
No wonder you can hardly stay in your clothes
and therefore wear almost none. I doubt
it's possible there's a death's head
under all that phosphorescent flesh
glued over an anti-gravitational fuselage
sponge-side down. Even in the classroom,
you're alpine skiing, spectacular wipeouts
even reading Wordsworth: proof he smoked
dope, plagiarized Tennyson, his dependence
on recollection really on forgetting.
Youth, your brain is more hand grenade
than a sack of scholastic slugs, tattoo
barbed wire circles on your bicep, eighth notes
hone in on your honeyed crotch, even
your barrette shouts, Get out of my way!
How is it possible for you to fall apart
every hour but still hop up for curtain calls?
Youth, I remember when I was always late
because I had so much time. You were waiting
then you hurried on.

--Dean Young