esrosedotblog

I picked up the new Volvo XC70 this morning.

It is great. I have mostly driven it home but I did try some bells and whistles. Saving most for later.

Three hours door to door did me in. Two hours of paper work there. And I had put in two hours last Thursday on the buying decision, model, color, blah blah.

It is the same car basically as we have driven. The XC70 is a Volvo success story and they are sticking with it.

There is a grill change, always a distinctive grill change every model year, and a totally new control panel.

Some features that came with the upscale package and a few I got because I wanted the vehicle now and this one was available in Escondido.

It will take a while to appreciate some of the frills but I think I can get there.

It has a smart "key" which, as in the past, is more of a slab. The car senses it as you approach and, if you wish, you can merely press a button to open the driver's side. The start button also senses the key and it is not necessary to insert it. Just keep it in your pocket. Silly but fun.

More important there are side sensors which light up if there is a car in the right lane, outside the sightline. A little orange light goes on at the inside corner of the mirrors. Both sides. Radar!

The mirrors on the outside will look down to show a curb line or a line line.

These are real safety and conveniences in one.

The mirrors will come back, tuck themselves in, so that you can go in a tight space. Not advised for backing out of the garage as we need to see but I will figure their logic out.

The car is heavier. Yet has better milage. Good for a Volvo. It also has more power on the getaway and, a surprising feature, feels like a geared car on the decelerations so that the motor helps slow down. Very very nice.

It is really silver. Shiny silver. But tasteful.

A new color so that people will know it is new. But still light for reflecting the sun here.

I am happy with it.

I will have a little over a week to read up on it before John returns and I can be smart about everything before he figures it out.

Labels: Volvo

But in the meantime, the happiness of five people at the onset of the AIDS epidemic is severely altered by events in Andre Techines fine film

Les témoins / The Witnesses (2007)

There are layers and layers of story lines here but they all converge on the beginnings of the plague which was first thought to be a gay disease.

Not so.

There is great joy in this film and, of course, great sadness. Each end of the cycle amplified by the other.

There is no accounting for the wonderful charm and pathos of this film. It speaks to us directly through the people who are most affected. One of them tells the story which becomes the film. A familiar plot line but, here, more extraordinary because of the circumstances.

I have seen this several times and will see it yet again.

This is a 5 out of Netflix5.

Superb. And the grand finale to the Techine fest. For now.

Labels: films

Andre Techine's award winning drama about coming of age, thwarted love and the value of friendship.

Les roseaux sauvages / Wild Reeds 1995

Three teens sort of in love with each other, one a budding gay boy, learn that it isn't so much the physical thing that is important as the deeper meaning of friendship. They move through the necessary experiences with each other and a third boy who brings an outsider's view of the situation, a bit alien. But he breaks up the logjam of feeling for all of them.

Also mixed in is the confusion of the period in which France is withdrawing from Algeria.

This is a little difficult for us to understand, this kind of civil war between France the country and the French Algerians who feel betrayed. The outside boy is from such an expat family.

Some think that this is the best of Techine's films but I don't roll that way, best, not best. It is a fine film and is a beautiful (the scenery, the kids) capstone of Techine's work. The best? Maybe but it all adds up. I think they call it his oeuvre but I try not to use the word.

Each individual stands on its own. And they are quite different.

I have seen this one several times. The young actors capture the mood of detachment mixed with passion just right. They may not be having sex with one another but they move on and keep the part that is working which is a rather huge portion of their love for one another.

It would be nice if all gay and straight boys as well as the uncommitted girls who love them could see this. It would uncomplicate enough of their lives to give them great satisfaction.

A 5 out of Netflix5.

Labels: films

A brother and sister still working on sibling problems after all these years

Andre Techine's

Ma saison préférée / My Favorite Season (1993)

Catherine Deneuve again with Daniel Auteuil. A grand child says "Grand mother was a bitch but she had character".

You can say that again. Marthe Villalonga normally a comic actress plays the tough to take Mom.

I know there is Oedipus and also Elektra, there is plenty of the latter. But I don't know what the struggle between siblings is called.

This one is classic and the theme of this film.

A family drama. Mother's hold is pretty tight. She wishes she had a third kid so that at least one of them would have taken her in as she gets old. I know how that sounds from a Mom. Personally.

This is a serious film with complications I do not understand because I was an only child. It seems to me that these sibs are a little too close but what do I know?

A good movie, a 5 out of Netflix5.

The man himself, Andre Techine.

Labels: films

A boy leaves the country fiercely independent, tries to make a go of it, fails on first try, then rebounds.

What we used to call "pluck". Here it is gallic pluck.

Andre Techine's

J'embrasse pas / I Don't Kiss (1991)

Spoilers. This is a coming of age film involving some pretty hard times. Finally, breaking his pride, the young man, a boy really, becomes a successful hustler and enjoys "the life" that such a profession brings. Drag queens, generous johns, other hustlers, female prostitutes. It is the later with whom he falls in love and runs athwart her pimp and gets the shit beaten out of himself. Defiant unto the pride breaking end of the punishment.

As it turns out, chastened, like his brother, he joins the army to get things sorted out. He makes a go of it. And returns to Paris. We do not see the rest of the story but I imagine that the pimp and the goons who beat him up are in for a major surprise.

I liked it. It is not really predictable at all. It is very gay about a convincingly straight young man who falls into the gay life. But it is relentlessly positive. Techine uses his experiences of gay men to enhance all his films and presents an unconventional and sometimes complimentary point of view even though the goings on are kinda rough.

I have some similar experiences. The irony here is that the boy is convincingly straight. Or, perhaps not so convincingly. It is really left to the future. He is a pretty successful whore though until he gets messed up with some guys who really mean business.

Emanuelle Beart appears here as the love object, a tough streetwalker. She will become a star. Others share the cast in a very enjoyable way. There is a lot of warmth in this film and what seems bad turns out to be not so bad even good. I like this kind of thing. I will most assuredly see it again. A 5 out of Netflix5 if it was from Netflix which it is not. It is part of my box set of Techine works.

Labels: films

There is not much to say about the new 2014 Volvo XC70 I bought yesterday.

A picture would be worth a thousand words. See below.

If you saw the old XC70, you would see the new one except for a modification in the grill, small, which they always do so the cognizant can cognizate.

And the panel is all digital, variable, big and hi tech. You can get, if you want, the digital version of the old dial, just flick the switch. Or big numbers. And all.

It is the first thing that Bob the salesman has to show me and it seems cruel not to allow him the demo he so thoroughly has practiced or the boyish enthusiasm with which he conducts the tour.

I didn't even get into the car.

We went in and made a deal. It took the usual fucking two hours. Find the car in Escondido or somewhere, talk a little about how it will be not perfectly match my specs, I had to by a seat warmer and a remote ignition. One for the seriously cold climate we have here in the winter and the other so that I don't have to get into a HOT car. Shit.

But it is always thus. Just get them and believe that we will appreciate a warm ass when it hits 32 on those few days it does and the bit of air blowing in our faces as we open the car.

Otherwise it is the front wheel drive (cheaper) and beige interior and same same same.

We wanted a light color. The desired crystal white which has sparkles in it comes only in the top top of the line package. So I am getting what he told me was Champagne but the writeup says Seashell. It is a beige, light, that shines and turns silver as you walk up to the car. It is very flashy in its way and the humble desire we had to let people know subtly that we had a new car is out the window. This one shouts "look at me". "new new new". And it is just gorgeous. Not tan, not silver. Light because we don't want a heat absorber in the desert. Why people have black or dark blue cars like the one he showed me, also dirt flashers, is beyond me.

Here it is, I think it is lighter than this. I know it is. And you can't see what happens when you walk up to it in the sunlight as it gets different shades and shines in your face. My god it is pretty.

I pick it up Monday. Another two hours of back and forth.

Gladly the Volvos do not dicker or mess with you. It is all blue book less damage on the trade in (we had some damage, I thought serious, but not at 1500 and did pretty well). Then the sticker, less a "sale" two thousand off why we are getting it now, an extended warranty so we are covered for anything for 8 years and 100,00 miles which we have no chance of hitting. I hope.

I am a little excited. I told John on the phone in Bologna yesterday. He was very tired from the travel over to Munich and through the Alps on the train so he was very amenable to almost anything. I should have tried slipping a few more things in. But I had already told him of my unilateral decision to get the house cleaned bi-weekly which he is a bit cool to. He said fine even if it was an extravagance. You should see the house. Clean, clean, clean.

The simple fact is that I am tired of cleaning and we do not come close to my standards for a clean house and these new people (a family team, two men and two women I think married to each other but maybe not) exceed my standards by quite a bit. I just need to put some things back where they "belong" like my medicine chest stuff but actually even that has more spare room and a better display.

Labels: housekeeping, Volvo

I was not planning on watching the film version, on principle, having seen the show two or three times.

But I am converted, special dispensation.

Chris Pine as One of the Princes in Into The Woods

Labels: hot men

Herewith is presented John Coltrane's charts for his masterwork, A Love Supreme (1964).

You will notice, even if you are not a musician, that there is no notation here. That does not mean there wasn't any. Everyone knew the melody. It was on paper somewhere and in their heads.

You might also be surprised to read that this is a prayer. Many people, including folks who love the piece, assume that it is about someone or some romantic experience.

Not that it couldn't be. Spirituality covers a lot of bases.

The Psalm which could be thought of as the lyrics are here

Coltrane is "playing" them on the record, they are not recited. He is following these words as he plays.

The story of A Love Supreme is covered here along with an NPR story on audio.

In any case, it is one hot cut. A studio album incidentally.

I think maybe some others recorded versions with lyrics. If so, they have to be considered right next to being a rip off. My opinion.

Why would this be coming up now?

Today is Coltrane's 87th birthday. He died in 1967, three years after this recording.

He was a genius. A bright star that burned out.

Labels: music

John and I have been doing our own cleaning since we moved here.

And that has been good as far is it goes but over time it becomes clear that it didn't really go far enough.

I hired a team in today, Sergio and another man, two women, and they went to work.

Wow. I was ashamed to pay the price they were asking but this kind of work is very low on the supply and demand curve here. Or is it high. I said OK but added ten dollar tips for each.

They got into the nitty gritty. I had forgotten how much nitty and gritty there is.

Experts.

It took 5 hours and they were not down a second. Also windows and the outdoor furniture and they hosed down the patio and courtyard.

Booker's wall prints are gone. The corners in the showers are faultless.

I have been around the house and I can see, what I can see, is total.

They have been into everything. Even the closets under sinks. The refrigerator. I watched a good part of the early work then left for a meeting at Volvo but it was a wonderful job.

So, I am asking them to come back every two weeks. We used to have it done weekly. He offered to do it for the same rate as we used to pay in the other place with two of them, I added ten bucks in my head for tips. Of course this place is half as big. I won't pay the low rates. Just will not.

John has more willingness to do cleaning than I do because he thinks it is a bit extravagant to have a cleaner. I think he is pleading poverty. We need help.

And me? I am fucking tired of it all. I am not good at it and I know it. I don't feel good doing something that I know are half-way measures but I am not going to get more ambitious or more effective.

I just am not.

And what about our getting older? We don't have to prove to anyone that we can still hack it. Especially when we really cannot and do not want to.

So, it is done. Unilateral. I talked to him this morning from Bologna and he was so tired he didn't give me any resistance. Besides, I already signed Sergio up. Two weeks, they come again. If he wants, John can vacuum or dust in between and I will do a bit here and there with the wets but that will just be primping it.

Besides, Booker is like this dog. He likes the visitors and they are fun to watch.

I will join him just like this pooch.

Did I mention that they scrubbed all the tile floor that is visible and a lot that is not? Some of that has not been done since we have been here.

Labels: housekeeping

A box of Andre Techine films yields an early work

Hôtel des Amériques / Hotel America (1981)

with Catherine Deneuve, her first of many with Techine, and Patrick Dewaere

Lovers who are without a clue. She is a pill popper and he an alcoholic. They hit the rapids and then the rocks. Trying to figure out what is going on, the formula for success with each other.

The film is about these struggles which seem doomed from the start. Class differences emerge, he is a drifter and she, while a doctor, is not capable of functioning outside her work as an anesthesiologist. Get it? She puts people to sleep for a living. Her entire demeanor with us and with him is in the range of no one being home.

We don't see the pills but her doc friend mentions uppers and downers.

On the surface, the film is a bit of a romantic comedy. In the rapids this becomes a storm too far for any humor. It is sad.

There is a faggot in every Techine film and here we have a cute guy who is instrumental in getting another straight loafer, friend of Dewaere, jailed for bashing.

I mean this in a positive way actually. The gay guy stands up for himself and won't take any shit. It works out, incidentally. They don't become boyfriends but the basher is so contrite that he has a little fling with the gay man. More than just desserts. Behind most bashers is a bit of a swish wish.

It is a good movie and indicative of the works to come. I am glad that they included it in this boxed set of already out of print films. Not even Netflix has it.

Deneuve is radiant. She was really hot. Everyone is in this really. And it does them no good at all. In 1981 she was 38! Fresh as a daisy and already a big star of serious films. Here she is far deeper than she looks. Part of her great skill.

He is no slouch as you can see but he has hair all over his shoulders. Why doesn't anyone ever tell these guys about that? Maybe Techine likes it. Too bad.

Labels: films

Early enthusiasm about the gayish views of the new pope was misguided.

Pope Francis Excommunicates Australian Priest Who Advocated For Gay Marriage And Female Clergy

Sorry.

Sometimes my optimism runs away with itself.

Nothin' goin' on here folks, move along. Francis is the same old homophobe as the last one, maybe worse because of the false signals.

Shoulda' read the fine print.

We do watch what you bastards do you know. Walk the fucking talk, Frank.

Also found this.

Labels: christist watch, gay bashers, homophobia

Imagined dialogue between Werner Herzog and producers from the History Channel.

Suits: Look Werner, this is great stuff, this footage of the Chauvet Cave. But there is only a half hour of interesting stuff. What can you do for us. Make it into a feature.

Werner: Vell, look, already. The cave valls are not flat and so we could make this static shit into a 3D special. Move in and out, cast a few shadows, jerk the camera around so it seems that we are walking around.

Suits: Great! That should get people into it but how can you make it all longer? It has to be feature length.

Werner: Ach. Ve bring in der scientists. Anthros and Paleos. And non experts. Like I read about this cave sniffer, an aroma expert. He likes to sniff for clues.

Suits: That's the ticket. More talk.

Werner: We could show some shit from other nearby places like Austria, Australia, South Africa. Every culture has junk in their caves. Look at these venus statues. There aren't any things in this cave but we can say there might have been, or if there had been there would be venus statues.

Suits: Far fucking out. Little venus statues from all over. Tits and ass from antiquity. What else.

Werner: I can bring in some weapons and show how they killed horses and all. Some old fart who can't even throw but still he can talk his way out of anything. Even apologize for being lousy at it.

Suits: OK. The talk, the side stuff, but right now, it is all silent. Pictures of an empty cave. You can hear your heart beat.

Werner: An idea there. We will make it silent for once and then say to listen for your heart. When that doesn't work I can loop in a woompa woompa from stock audio. The other thing is to get some music.

Suits: Great, what kind of music do you "hear" here?

Werner: Vell, I vould say ve get sum really spooky shit. An organ moaning. A woooo woooo choir. Maybe a little violin over the top. Make it so intrusive people won't look at their watches.

Suits: OK Lets go with it.

And they did.

I challenge you not to yawn during this.

The film is half and hour of fascinating looks at an undiscovered cave with some astounding 30,000 year old pictures, some bones (no human) and a lot of stalagtites and the other ones with a c.

Then Werner Herzog narrates in his croony, sing song talking style.

He tries to dramatize it but it does not need dramatizing. Enough. There is a lot of irrelevant talk and footage and so on.

I did like seeing the paintings and hearing the story. There is one archeologist who used to be a monocyclist in a circus. Long hair, cheekbones beyond belief and a crazy mouth. They brought him on every fifteen minutes. If women responded half as well to him as I did then they would hang out just to see him again. He was also about the only interesting one in the bunch.

I finally FF'd my way to the protracted end.

A 2 out of Netflix5.

Remind me that Werner Herzog is a much better director of dramatic screen fiction, although kinda weird and bent, than he is a documentarian. I got burnt once before in another forgettable film.

I realized this too late.

3-D. Really? Gotta admit I wasn't there for that but I cannot imagine it offers anything except maybe a little dizziness from the in and out and around the corner of the cave.

Oh. The film. Cave of Forgotten Dreams (2011).

The Eberts liked it.

Labels: films

But wait. Gays shouldn't be allowed to adopt kids or even foster them. Right?

Wrong. Look at this. And even in the red state of Arizona.

Superdads

Labels: gay families, gay marriage

I don't pay much attention to guys like Ted Cruz.

They are shit stirrers and chronically counter-dependent people and when they get elected they make a big stir and then they are gone. Loudmouths, showboats, know nothings.

His day will come just like all the rest.

But there is something in the air about this guy.

Perhaps it is the incredible transparency of today's media scrutiny. But I don't think so.

He elicits some hate from his closest allies. He is simply not liked. Period.

There are often guys who are difficult and controversial. But some people love them. I, for example, am deeply stirred to the negative by Rudy Guiliani but my friend Youssef in the gym (who also liked George Bush) actually admires Rudy and looks forward to seeing him on the tvs in the gym even though there is no sound. I, on the other hand get enraged at his smarmy smile.

Cruz? No one likes him. I read stories about his behavior to people in the way, in the Congress, everyone.

I even believe some people who arouse my negative passions are interesting and I like to read non-political stuff about them. I will surprise you and say that George W. Bush is one of those people. I really like his post election attitude and, to tell you the truth, what I know of his off line behavior in the White House he was a very likable, affable and generous character. And I believe it. I like reading the stories. His human side.

Not Ted.

Look at this.

Ted? Oh Yeah. Immense Asshole.

I know there are people like this but how do they get elected? How do they get people to work for them? Of course, in life, I have seen that some people do not mind working in an abusive negative space. I don't get it but you can always find a power whore who will go along with it.

I have seen this kind of guy come and go. The vantage point of a geezer. Be patient. He will get his. Maybe he is already getting it.

Labels: politics, republican whack jobs

I want to share my dish washing procedures for other "single men" who find that they are eating alone.

First, if you are just beginning your "single" status, take all the clean dishes from last night's operation out of the dishwasher and put them away. Then take today's dishes, not counting any that your partner used this morning, and put them in the dishwasher as you use them.

I had the good fortune that my partner didn't use any before he left this morning. Easy peasy.

Do not, incidentally, use any of the dirty dishes during the day for a second use. This is a normal guy thing but I do not recommend it. Besides being a little on the disgusting side (why one would do it of course, to be disgusting) it is not making best use of this special method. Avoid the impulse to second use. One usage per dish.

At the end of the day, after dinner and before any "snack" really wash the load that is in the dishwasher.

Do not succumb to the other guy impulse which is to not wash the dishes until the machine is full. Do it at the end of your eating day.

Tomorrow. First thing. Take your dishes as needed from the dishwasher, an item at a time. Do not, of course, put it back into the washer until the end of the day. Accumulate the day's dishes in the dish rack in the left hand basin of the double sink.

At the end of the day, repeat.

This way, you will not use any more dishes than you absolutely have to use. You will have all that you need in rotation in the washer.

The single man does not want to have too many dishes in operation. I think that this is the reason the impulse to double or triple usage is indulged. This is over doing it.

Usually, the dishwasher will settle down to a nice regular inventory. In my case, there is a cereal dish, an egg plate or, on alternate days, a yogurt/fruit bowl. A mid morning cup and plate for under to contain the frozen yogurt snack.

There will be a plate for the lunch sandwich (small) and a glass for milk. There will be a coffee cup to nurse continuously during the morning to be finished around noon.

There is no afternoon snack that requires a dish of any kind. A coke in the can and a handful of pretzel rods have their own "plates". Then. A big dinner plate at night. Perhaps another glass for water with dinner but usually, on my own, I drink from my perpetual water bottle or don't have water at all as I would if someone was here.

Then, at the end of the day, as happens these days, a plate and a cup thing for pistachio nuts and their shells. This does not get washed that day but is kept over for the next day's load. It can be used the next morning, the one re-use exception if you need a handful of pistachios before lunch. After all, it is pretty clean and can be safely used in this way.

After dinner, pretty simple, everything goes into the dishwasher and the machine is turned on.

In the morning, your day's clean plates will be ready for use. Load up the dish drainer as you did on the previous day.

On Friday, there will be one cup that has been holding your tooth brush at day and your dentures at night. Put it in the wash and grab it out when it is clean just before you need it for bed. If you do not have dentures, no problem. Use your water glass in the bathroom to hold the brush for that night.

The bathroom water glass. Needs cleaning when you think of it. Put it in the mix anytime and don't forget to take it out. Do not do it on a Friday as it will be needed to hold the tooth brush if you don't have dentures. See above.

Any questions?

OK.

One more thing. In this house, we wash the dog's food dish daily. It is put in at night and retrieved in the morning. The clean dish becomes the water dish which becomes the meal dish. Then that one is washed.

I include this because some people do have a dog.

Also, I realize, that some people, usually not dog people are revolted by the idea of a dog dish being washed with human dishes. These people should get a life. The modern dishwasher is so hot you can't stand it and if I am willing to eat dishes that are used by other humans, so what?

Labels: housekeeping

I knew I had to go see the original with Michael J. Fox.

Teen Wolf (1985)

It is a supremely bad movie but it is not hard to see its charms underneath the wolf's clothing.

It is a basketball movie. Scott gets his super powers going once he accepts being a werewolf and learns to control himself. Should we read this as a sexual metaphor? No. It is too easy.

Scott does get ahead of himself, pride takes over and he does some asshole things but then comes to his senses and ends up able to win at the game without the super powers, well almost, because he inspires the team to do their best.

The film is good hearted even when the rival jock tries to best him. They do not like each other but they do so with some geniality.

All of the stuff is in place though. The goofy sidekick Stiles, the serious and accepting girlfriend, the wish to do good with his powers and not harm, the way in which the wolf features grow and wane, the dangers of the full moon when control is not possible, the sort of dorkiness of Scott and his normality even when the powers are on. A teenage boy after all but coming of age and into himself.

I liked it and then it got silly, so silly I could not take any more and so I FF to the end which makes it a 2 out of Netflix5 which seems kind of arbitrary as I had a good time but rules are rules. FF=a 2. Period.

When I had some emotional space while watching, I reflected on how I have been around for all of Michael J. Fox's career and life from the time as a very talented young star to his maturity and well managed coming out as an early Parkinson's, well, victim. Although "victim" or "sufferer" seem to be inappropriate terms as he has handled it in public.

I get the feeling that he is a great guy and a fully formed human who has done a lot of good with his charm and ability.

This film was right before his television success in Spin City and is a breakout performance in a trivial film which, as it turns out, had a lot of charm and savvy itself. Enough to inspire a very successful television franchise which we have on our "must see it all" list.

Labels: films

We just returned from the Airport departure door, United.

Booker and I. We came home without John.

He is off to Italy via Boston.

He will arrive in Boston, stay over with an old college chum (he still has one left), lunch with a grandson at his work and then tomorrow night off to Munich.

He is going to Deutschland so he can take a train through the alps going to Bologna.

Then to Ferrara, Parma, Modena, Ravenna, Padua and Venice where he will stay five days until he goes back through the Alps (night train no sights) to Munich and finally home.

It sounds like the Cole Porter Kiss Me Kate song "We open in Venice and then play Verona then off etc until they open in Venice.

We, on the other hand, are staying in Palm Springs and while doing nothing really special, hope to be able to pack in a couple of different things.

For one, on Thursday, taking advantage of the absence, we are getting the whole house cleaned top to bottom by professionals. It has been three years of our own cleaning and there are a few dust fuzzies hidden under the sofa and so on.

To kill time, we don't want to stay here with four or five guys moving furniture, lifting rugs, scrubbing all the tile, Booker and I are going to buy a car.

We have a date with the Volvo guy to sign up for a '14 XC70 which will be as close to the '08 as possible. Of course there will be doodads which we will not really want like the map thing and bluetooth talking with which no one can understand what you are saying to say nothing of the fact that hands free talking has now proven to be as dangerous as holding the phone.

I am not sure if we will leave with a new car, we had not planned to but yesterday when I talked to the Volvo guy he said he already had four of next year's models on the floor. They are always a step ahead and trying to push the "now" over the "wait".

We decided to set it up now because there is a double bonus discount and we do not mind waiting. Which we will probably do as we have a rather specific color (white sparkles although they don't call it that I think it is crystal something) and a more or less stripped down, I think the middle range, set of options. Beige interior and so on. Leather seats.

If we wait it will be 14 weeks but if he has the very specific thing we want, I will take it on Thursday.

What else are we going to do to fill in the other Dad husband's absence? Not much. I have a trip to In and Out Hamburger in mind on Thursday if we need even more time while the cleaners are doing their thing.

I will, of course, have to answer the usual questions about why I am not going with him.

I try to keep it simple "I do not want to go to Italy" but that is rarely enough. The second explanation is that I do not want to stand around in churches and museums looking at old shit. (gasp) Then, usually we have to go to the long term advantages of de-coupling some of our life together so that each of us has an independent existence and achieve some level of person-hood. The "person-hood" always stops them cold. That is a handy verbal artifact from the "human potential movement". I never used it then but now it is a handy conversation stopper.

You cannot explain this to some people. Many get it, nod and grin. They are doing the same thing with their partner or want to.

Others? Stymied. What? How can that be? They signed up for the Kool-Aid. Yes. I know they are still in love, that they do not want to be separated from their mate, they are happiest with them than they are anywhere and so on. Good luck with that, mate.

I still remember the year that my mother, who loved the Jersey shore, did her annual nagging of my Dad to go with her. After I had grown up he never went back. Never.

In frustration, this time, she said that if he didn't go, she would go by herself. And she did.

The world did not cave in. She had a good time and actually took a friend, Harriet, along. He did what he wanted for a week. They could afford it and it relieved the daily pressure of people pleasing alternating with silent scorn or actual fighting that was normal around that house.

Boy did I learn from that. And, later, when, like everyone else, Harriet got worn out by my Mom's self centeredness Mom went by herself.

They both loved it although they continued to do the "he never goes with me but I have a good time anyway" bullshit but that was their life and normal.

Needless to say, we do not do that. He goes, I stay, we both have a good time.

I get my time alone in San Diego (went in August) and all is well. Booker even makes out well. Each of us overcompensates for his being alone so he gets more petting, longer walks, sweeter treats and so on. I am not sure he is pleased by this incidentally.

The one reaction that is hard which is when they ask John how he could leave and go somewhere without me. This is a slightly different spin on the ball and would be the hetero sexism if it wasn't two men. We just let them figure it out. There is no explaining.

So here we are. We just got home. On the short drive from the airport I worried that he might have forgotten his ticket and then because I knew better I worried that he would get his luggage stolen from his car in Boston while he was having lunch with our grandson.

And then, given nothing to worry about, I had sweet tears. This is the culmination of a long year of planning for him. It is his hobby and fascination. He has planned the footsteps at each site and made the necessary elimination of the better and the not. He will have a great time. It is alos a good thing that he will not be renting a car there this year. Always a concern for me. Wild Italians on the road. He will do all trains. Good.

Other than that we are pleased to see him happy with his pursuit, now his fifth (?) trip to Italy. Maybe four. It seems like five because while he is planning it seems like he is there at the time.

This is the first thing I did back in the house. Now. On to breakfast and the first morning dog walk of the two weeks. I am the sole Dad now and I have to get myself into gear.

Labels: life, travel, Volvo

Oh, go take a look at this.

Time Management

I read all of this.

It satisfies all my own compulsive need to have a routine and suggests that I could become famous too.

You don't suppose this is made up, do you?

Laphams Quarterly. I will have to look into this publication.

Labels: fun

It must be Ryan Gosling again, behind a wheel and not a good guy more a bad guy being a good guy for a change. The antihero. Protecting women and children from harm.

Drive (2011)

Excessively violent, so much so that the word "brutality" is used in the R rating.

Don't let it put you off as it may have done for me at the beginning when it came out.

Ever fucking bastard in it deserves the beating he gets here and devil take the hindmost.

There is a generous use of other familiar actors here and almost all of them, like Gosling, play against type. Albert Brooks is the most surprising. Bryan Cranston the teevee anti hero and world class character actor also appears.

I won't give you the story. Read the review at the link. It won't help anyway.

The treatment is so unconventional that any story line loses its impact early on. Nothing happens but surprises. So enjoy it.

I might just want to watch it again sometime. I certainly would not mind if you told me Gosling was going to make a visit to my house to persuade me.

A small spoiler.

A 4 out of Netflix5.

Labels: films

I have just finished a great novel about a niche of life that was totally new to me.

And, I have just finished a wonderful time as a young expat.

I also just finished a delightful story about a young gay man finding himself in a rich relationship where the language barrier even enhances the joy in it.

I have also just finished a book that tells of a unique and bygone time when the Czechs found themselves free of the "yoke of communism". And Prague! One of the main characters in

Necessary Errors by Caleb Crain

Jacob goes to Prague for a year of exploration just after graduation from college and finds that he is not the only young man or woman who has the idea that the newly formed republic is a place to be, to become, to be able to find a handle on his grown up life.

So he finds some friends, a network of energetic young men and women, who share the adventure of talking talking talking with each other and also engaging with the "locals" in their own ways.

Jacob, determined not to sink into being part of an ex-pat pack ventures outside the group. As a gay man, he has some exploration to do unique to him. His nice adventures in the "underworld" of gay life give him a reason and a venue to look into himself as he finds interesting ways to spend his time and grab onto the flavor of the life he wants. Of course this involves some "necessary errors" none of which are traumatic or earthshaking for him and therefore even more valuable.

Eventually he finds a Czech man, Milo. Or rather, Milo finds him. Finding each other.

They have a quick rapport and actually have fun together. I mean they enjoy each other's company in a way that captures all the thrills and little spills of a gay relationship and its unique differences from the little chorus of straight people's experience happening in the background. Any gay man who comes out to join his community will attest to the fact that there is a quality of life which is not available any other way. Peers, point of view, partners in other than sexual matters. Gay relationships have their own unique rhythm and beat. Crain has caught it exactly here. I identified so much with it all.

To say the novel is low key undermines its purpose, I think, which is to be refreshingly reflective about the inner life of any young person. Jacob's circumstances simply enhance the process and allow Crain to make observations about this exciting period of a country's life, a group of young people's lives and mostly for Jacob himself who, on a limited leave from being an American on his way to graduate school finds a way to reset his expectations and self respect in ways that make a very happy, fulfilling reading experience.

Another very interesting aspect of this novel is that Crain has a website Steamboats are Ruining Everything" which, among other things, features, now, a set of photos of the city, the life, the experience that might be included in an illustrated version of the book. Contemporary photos of Prague, even a photo of a ticket to a gay bar which involves a hilarious set of misunderstandings in the book, is included. Charming. It has kept the reading alive for me in the days following a "sad to finish this" ending.

Labels: books

It is rare to see a film that is so wise about the nature of a failed relationship.

A couple meet cute and the get pregnant, then get married for all the wrong reasons and end their relationship 7 or 8 years later in this film with Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams.

Blue Valentine (2011).

I saw it before and toughed it out then saw Gianfrancis' later film with Gosling and went back to see Gosling again who, to tell the truth, I can't see enough of.

A matinee idol he is not. All his films are unflattering to what is basically very attractive raw material. But not a pretty boy in anyway. How nice. He compensates, for those who are interested, with an almost flawless body.

He relishes the off beat role and conquers through his acting. Very sexy, very intense, very believable along a broad range of work.

I will see him tomorrow in Drive where, I think, he dumps the tattoo dude look but becomes a real crook. Sort of.

This film becomes a 5 out of Netflix5 after a 4 from when I saw it before.

Don't let me neglect mentioning Michelle Williams who is also a great actor and the two cook up an intensity that boils over.

Labels: films

I went through my "codes and passwords" file yesterday and eliminated more than half the content.

It was a walk down memory lane for some of it.

Old passwords to the papers that I used to get on before they had a paywall. The Boston Globe, LATimes and even the local paper no longer open their doors without a price of admission. This is changing times forward, a taste of the future for all print.

Then there are some in which the trend has turned the other way. For example, old passwords, maybe ten revisions, for my repeated difficulties with TimeWarner Cable who has a constant meltdown of its on-line service which is not service at all but torture. Fortunately they answer the phone quickly and wonders upon wonders there is an actual office nearby where I can walk in and talk to a real person who is always nice to me and competent. I would be happy with either one and both is a real pleasure, worth going into the place. The same with ATT which I still cannot rouse on the internet. Only three revisions of my password here just to avoid the drop down warnings that the one I used is no good. I go to the great guys at the local ATT store. They are also lookers which makes it even more pleasant.

Then there are the passwords to things I do not even remember. Carbonite, a security system that was one of those things you paid for but never actually got tested because having a mac there were no viruses. Also some passwords to other services, aggregators, news sources. None lasted long. Attempts to monetize them failed and now they are "This Space Available".

I had passwords for many things like retailers where I only bought one thing. Never went back.

And so on.

My cyber history for all of four years in a vaporizing trail, now vanished as I hit the delete button for over 15 passwords. I stopped counting.

I should probably not say that every one of those passwords were pretty much the same.

I swallow all the warnings with a grain of salt.

A lot of what they are worried about seems to be bullshit to me. A breach of my confidentiality is usually a gross thing like wallet theft or, if they appropriate my web records, the length and complexity of my password is irrelevant. They have it, simple or not.

Dumb stuff. My bank, Wells Fargo, decided to make people have "more secure" passwords. So they ramped the minimum letters up to 8 from six. Yet, at their ATMs where the actual money is, there is still a 4 digit pass which is called a p i n and that is it. Of course they do need my card but still.

My investment guys, Smith Barney, had gone to a system which needed at least one cap, a minimum of two letters, and something else I do not remember. There was a huge mess getting it all started. Then they got absorbed by Morgan Stanley and MS in turn went to a simple but 8 digit minimum requirement. No sense, three years later, defying the trend and making it simpler. They even gave me a live MIS guy on the phone to walk me through the new web site. He laughed when I noted the incongruity and allowed as how none of it made much difference. If they had your pass they had it whether it was four or eight or what.

Of course part of it is that only YOU know what the password is, ostensibly, and it is the mysterious ingredient unless you are really dumb enough to use 2012's dumbest.

Ours is not too complicated actually. It is just our date of meeting but not really as it is off one year and it also has letters which are initials but only in the order of how they actually appear.

One of my sons who needed to get into a website worked his way in by simple guessing. Of course he had to know us a little bit. The year and all. If I need to come up with an 8 digit figure then I just add my birth year.

Now everyone who reads this has some clues. But you don't know my usernames which, in many cases, are as hard to get as any part of it.

For many sites unless there is a credit card and many even where there is, the user name can be any name which you choose to plug in. I have used PaulNewman as well as some others as a homage. No longer as he is dead and I don't want to make it too hard for the hacker.

I went from about thirty passwords down to ten. Not everyone is on there. The money ones are not on anything but a hard copy sheet of paper on the back of a cabinet drawer here. Funny, huh? As secure as a new puppy in the middle of a highway.

Labels: internet, security

We are getting the annual ten degree drop this weekend.

Traditionally, at this time, the day temps fall to the 80s and the nights to the 60s.

It is nice to see or feel.

This morning it was actually kind of cold going out.

At my meeting, guys actually wore jackets. Well, some guys.

In SoCal some people will start wearing their fur coats when the next ten drop happens so we are close to deep winter.

No fur coats for me but I am probably going back to sneakers now.

Soon, the jeans will come out.

I used to wear shorts all year long and last year I got achey legs and when I tried jeans that stopped.

Better than aspirin all the time.

Pride taketh a fall.

So, this year, I am ready and willing to make the change. I have tops that are just waiting to be matched with the jeans.

As jeans are kinda plain, the shirts over them can be a little more interesting.

Summer "dress wear" such as it is involves mostly Gap sleeveless sport shirts. Cool, thin, a little baggy and airy.

Winter goes to some long sleeve "dress shirts" and maybe, just maybe, I will be wearing my new collection of tshirts with graphics. More about that later.

Labels: seasons

I am very happy to see that LinkedIn has gotten into trouble for their routine violation of spamming.

LinkedIn Sued For 'Hacking' Users' Email Accounts To Spam Friends

I have gotten "invite" emails from people I have on my email list who I know are not wanting me on LinkedIn. In fact some of them didn't know that they had been violated. Somehow, they got far enough in the registration process to be identified as red meat.

It is a nasty business and I have been pissed about it for awhile.

When it first happened to me I wrote back a careful email to the person and said I did email and phone calls but no friend sites. None.

They were often mystified about it. I gave it up. It was obvious that I was spending time on an unmanagable situation.

Who knows how this will play out?

But there are predatory aspects to the internet which are really not OK. It is good to see them get some bad publicity, a little spotlight on them and maybe some damage assessment. I think that will take a long time. But it might actually happen. I hope.

I would like to see the fuckers pay.

Labels: internet, spam

Today's film seems to be a more or less standard version of the adolescent girl in crisis. Puberty. Coming of age. Leaving the family fold.

Then an emotional stick of dynamite goes off in the family scene.

The Criterion Collection has restored Maurice Pialat's powerful drama for a second look. Their work is stunning.

A Nos Amours (1983)

with the very young Sandrine Bonnaire as a 15 year old girl who is in love with a boy she doesn't want to be with. The family is unstable, her father is about to leave. She is bored with life.

She begins to sleep around with guys she likes but does not love. Usually older. Oh oh.

This goes on in a way that is kind of standard for a teenage girl film, the drama, the pathos, the erratic behavior. But it is French. You know quite early that you are not in Hollywood.

We see these films all the time. They have a rhythm and pace that are familiar and they are, in a way, addictive. The American dream put in simple (?) terms of a teenager.

The mother is a bit whacky and a traditionalist. Only marriage as a virgin. There are fights. There is a brother who is in love with her too, maybe that way. And he is also a closet, at least, gay man.

Chemistry here. Very explosive. Volatile. The French hit each other or, at least, these French do.

The father leaves, the story unfolds, the father comes back one night during a party.

This role is played by Maurice Pialat himself. It is said that the cast did not know he would arrive during the party and had no clue about what he would do or say. They are gobsmacked. Not a French term, so how is agape? Astonished. Thrown.

Clearly there is a script here but it must have come out after the early monologue. It is a piece of film horror which I have rarely seen. Mean. Nasty. Uncompromising.

Not a standard Dad thing at all.

Powerful films require time to absorb. I am still taking it all in.

It is worth at least a second look sometime. I would be willing to see it again. But I need a rest.

A 4 out of Netflix5.

Bonnaire was 16 when she played this. Wow.

This YouTube trailer is a lousy reproduction but you will get the idea. The Criterion version is crisp and clean.

Labels: films

One of my favorite movies today. Tim Burton's

Big Fish (2003)

with Albert Finney as the fish, Ewan McGregor as the younger fish and the incredulous son Billy Crudup. Adoring women Jessica Lange and Helen Bonham Carter. Steve Buscemi with a big big walk on. Others.

This is a tall tale. About a big fish. The biggest.

A son comes to believe in the father. The fish story becomes real.

I think that there are a lot of things that make me blubber on and off throughout the film. A happy blubber. Nothing is sad.

Certainly, anything as touching as a man who comes to believe in his Dad has to get to me. My story.

Also the life story, in any form, big or little, is pretty interesting. Believe it or not.

This is so much a 5 I ought to give it a 25 out of Netflix5. I think I have seen it more than five times. Maybe five more when a need a good blubber, laugh, memory.

Labels: films

Don't ever underestimate the younger generation.

They are, as always, in every decade of my life, a great bunch, these kids, with a wonderful point of view to offer the critical old farts about life in America.

Looking at Our Hometowns

In this project by the NYTimes, kids all over America take and submit photos of their hometowns and their life there.

It is wonderful.

I got so involved that I forgot it was time to go to the store and was waylaid over half an hour.

I resist this kind of intense accidental involvement especially on the internet, the great time wasters, but this caught me completely off guard.

Very touching and enjoyable.

Labels: America, photography

I have been watching this guy and you could see it coming.

Pope Bluntly Faults Church’s Focus on Gays and Abortion

This guy is cut from a different cloth than any Pope that I have seen in my lifetime.

It is important to understand that not many Catholic people pay attention to the Pope especially in America and a few other modern western countries.

The rabid few Cardinals and Bishops some of whom are now in place because of the last two right wingers will peter out.

But the impact of this will hit hardest in the third world where homophobia and the opposition to birth control are almost manic.

This one signaled change from the beginning. He ditched a lot of the accouterments that made the Pope the subject of constant mockery by non-catholics who do not buy the snake oil at all.

No pope-mobile, no summer "palace", the common touch which was not just PR.

He has installed lieutenants who tend liberal and has already spoken out about the rampant misuse of church funds.

The Vatican has become a disgrace to what is a significant spiritual home for a lot of people.

I have quite devout Catholic friends who I respect deeply and none want anything to do with the church that hates, that points fingers, that supports celibates who are obsessed with sex, that honors single men who hate women. The moralizers, the smug, the superior shits who have drummed any progressive point of view out of the church have created a shortage of young priests, young parishioner and minorities who, while faithful, have been treated like children.

I have hope when I see this guy.

In a way, it is all irrelevant to me. I have a rich spiritual life without any religion but it takes a lot of work and its pursuit, while incredibly rewarding, cannot be handled by a lot of people who have really hard lives and little time to focus on spiritual matters. A good solid church with a social gospel has always given these people a home.

These are Francis' words. A "home for everybody".

No surprise he adopted the name of the universally appealing Saint Francis.

Labels: religion, spiritual life

Today's film has a double whammy that sneaks up on you.

And when it bites it hurts. So hard that I had to bail out. Violence really. I feel betrayed. And I still hurt. I bite too.

I will at least tell you there are spoilers here and not surprise you with any kind of ambush as Miranda July does to us in this her second film.

The Future (2011)

A young couple, together four years have an almost whimsical lifestyle. Slackers. Not deeply attached to anything. Least, it would seem, to each other or even themselves.

This is amusing for awhile and only a little hard to believe as neither has much of a visible means of support but they get by on irony and heavy detachment from their feelings.

Right there, I should have known.

They decide to get a cat. Not even to "heal" anything but to take on a responsibility for awhile. They choose an injured stray cat they had found in in the street. The cat has a prognosis. He has hemophilia and will need shots. They had assumed he would only live 6 months, that is why they could take him on. No big commitment.

Now, the trouble. The cat talks to us in a baby voice. We identify with the cat's unhappiness with his life so far and his hope that these people will help him. A "forever" home.

I suppose this happens or some version of it with a lot of people who take rescue animals. Their expectations are out of line with reality. In any case, there is a problem. The cat needs to recuperate and it will take a month. He will have to stay in the shelter until they come back.

I allowed myself to get caught up with the cat's charm (I think Ms July in kitty voice).

The deal is that waiting for a change in their life takes and saps all the couple's energy and it is here that the film turns dark.

Each of the couple people are affected in different ways. None are attractive or nice and rather than drawing them together the wait, the kitty, the experience of delayed gratification is so heavy on them that everything goes to hell. Whimsy and irony fail them, eccentricity becomes mental disorder, lack of commitment leads to weird tangents that destroy even the marginal jobs and lives that they had together.

I saw this coming early enough to feel that I was going to be betrayed. And I was.

I was sucked in by the cat voice and I knew it. I grew anxious that the arc of this film was going in a painful direction and I didn't like it.

I was promised a rose garden and I bought into it and now I was getting the thorns.

Of course, this is just what happens to these people and I became part of the same process.

Ahhhhh. Whimsy. Like a silent movie. How sweet. Nice, innocent and naive.

I should have seen lost, childish and willful, a slave to their impulses with little if any impulse control.

Low reactors are, of course, the most passive aggressive people and, as Ms. Miranda shows in this film, the most capable of mean acts.

My worst fears were realized when I bailed. I jumped ahead in time to see that they missed the pickup date for the cat by one day and it is euthanized. Cruel and mean and not necessary to make a point about what was an obvious situation. A lot of shit happens but this was not acceptable as a device. Cuteness becomes a kind of nasty retribution for believing in the film or the people in it. Pessimistic. Even nihilistic. And forget the part where the cat comes back to narrate about what life after death is like. Holy fucking catnip.

I had to write this to get the bitter taste out of me and please, I am sorry but I warned you at the head of this.

I am not even going to show a trailer for this nasty prank. Ms. July can take her quirky gamin delightfulness and shove it back up her ass where it came from.

Labels: films

We just got our new Medicare rates, prescription and regular.

And the shocking news is that under the Affordable Care Act, we will pay less at every level of benefit.

Not a lot, a buck here and a fiver there. But less.

I have been waiting for this.

The naysayers are having conniptions. As the new rates are rolled out for the various groups, almost everyone is paying less.

How is this possible?

As predicted, the free market. The Medicare rates are not a result of that but are part of the general budget revisions.

This makes the right wing opposition and Fox News look dumber all the time.

In fact, today, there are two news items about how the Republicans polled now prefer to call the ACA the ACA instead of Obamacare. It is no longer something they care to hang around the neck of the man they hate so much.

Labels: Administration Obama, health

Today's film is about smother love. Oops. Yes, the "s" is definitely appropriate.

Food of Love (2002)

adapted from David Leavitt's novel The Page Turner.

A young aspiring pianist falls in love/lust/opportunism with a fading concert pianist who basically uses him for a little diversion on a layover from his busy schedule.

When he gets dumped, the kid moves on fairly successfully not thinking that his mother, a self centered bitch on wheels, will know that he is gay. He is living in New York while attending Julliard. If she only knew!

Sooner of later she finds out, he decides or is told that the concert life is not in his future and they have it out with each other.

The last thing we expect is that he will fall into his Mom's arms in the end and tell her she is right. He is still gay of course but they are playing another game, the gay one postponed.

Goes against the grain.

I missed out on this when it came out but I didn't miss much. The film has some redeeming value but, like David Leavitt, a well known gay author, it takes itself way too seriously. Leavitt wrote one good coming out book and since then has been able to con his way through a lame succession of coming out stories.

I did the FF because of her interminable complaining and self indulgence.

That makes it a 2 out of Netflix5.

The sex is mediocre and the concert pianist, older, is not very interesting and the kid is OK but quite naive and about as aware of himself as his mother.

All in all, not a wasted afternoon, but I will not be buying this one for later viewing.

Labels: films

Today's film is really two films folded into one. Derek Cianfrance's

The Place Beyond the Pines (2012)

The first with Ryan Gosling as a hard ass biker trying to make a living as a trick rider, then a bank bandit, is a study in single minded purpose turned to an inevitably tragic end.

The second, with Bradley Cooper shows a man similarly obsessed but on the side of the law. No less driven, less tragic end but I don't want to tip it.

There is a link between them. Events and people.

It is a long slow buildup twice. The film is very risky I think and it does come off OK with me although it was slipping out of my hands or out of Cianfrance's as he tries to draw quite a few loose ends together.

There are the two stars and two sons. The sons play out some version of what went before.

It is pretty good if complex.

I am not sure I would want to be in Schenectady where it takes place. Pretty quiet town where one can get into a lot of trouble without trying.

The title is confusing. I don't know where that place is although there is a crucial scene in the woods. Twice. I didn't quite get it. Not necessary. Just one of those loose ends that may have gotten away.

I enjoyed the whole thing. I think that once is enough but if I had to watch it again it would be with some pleasure at watching the two male stars carry out really tough anti-hero roles successfully.

A 4 out of Netflix5.

Labels: films

Warning: Spoilers all over the place.

Today, one of the "parents" of Teen Wolf, our newest teevee obsession. John Landis'

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

preceded The first Teen Wolf which was a film with Michael J. Fox, an accidental casting in a moment when Fox had an opening, before his series becomes so successful. With Fox in the role, the production was started and that film became a cult item and the precedent for the teevee series born.

The earlier werewolf, the one I saw today, established the idea that the story could have humor which was then picked up in the second film. But, perhaps more importantly to the MTV production the movie in London had the hero as a handsome dude, naked for a good part of it and with a love interest. Sexy and good in bed.

He does not end well in London because he creates a lot of carnage and has to be put out of his misery. Spoiler.

In the Michael Fox version he deals with his transformation as he would with a bad case of acne.

We will see that film soon.

I always like the first version for all of the reasons given.

It does have suspense and a lot of gore and there is no question about how it will end for the poor victim. It is almost necessary for him to be taken out of this terrible trap.

It is a 5 out of Netflix5 because we have seen it many times. And are probably not done yet.

Labels: films

This article sure goes against the grain of conventional wisdom. Well, not really. It is probably a denier document. But quite convincing in some respects.

Overpopulation is Not the Problem

What is interesting is that it does not mention warming or climate change.

It does tell me that I am clever enough to get over the problems we have and that cities can grow unabated without any limit. Population can keep on going, increasing forever. There will be enough food for everyone.

Even though there is not enough food for everyone now.

It pretty much assumes that living on top of one another might even be enjoyable.

I don't know.

It was in the NYTimes, right?

I thought to myself that they have to be even handed if only a little bit. Perhaps this is a bow to that impulse.

I have been a believer in the need to limit population long before it reached the level it is now. It is pretty hard to swallow a lifetime of data and belief.

It is interesting to see this reasoned article and then have a "Huh?" reaction.

Huh?

Don't ever say that this blog is one sided.

Labels: population explosion

I had no idea when I ordered this movie that it was such a rouser.

Katherin Bigelow's early hit

Point Break (1991)

I figured it for a surfer movie. Which it is. But then it has so much more. And more.

I knew that it was hard to come by. I waited months, unprecedented, for the DVD to become available on Netflix. It still has not.

Then, I decided I would check it out to buy a copy. It has been a long time since it came out. Most films of this vintage go cheap.

Not this one. $45 dollars and change!

So I got a used one. $5.99

Keanu Reeves and the late Patrick Swayze battle to the end. Reeves an undercover FBI agent, Swayze a surfer dude with a taste for even more excitement in bank robberies.

I can't tell a lot about it without a spoiler. The surfer/robbers wear president masks. How odd to see Reagan robbing a bank. Well, not, actually.

The writers have packed this with scene after scene of chase, surf, more chase, more surf. The surfing footage is extraordinary. I don't miss a surfing movie but I have rarely seen anything like this. Unsustained.

Then there is sky diving where Swayzey does all his own work.

There is some side story. Gary Busey is great as Keanu's partner. Lori Petty the love interest.

Bigelow went on to even more heart pounding films but used a lot different ways of getting the result. This film is classic chase, chase, chase.

The robberies are pretty good too. We see a lot.

What is so attractive and perhaps makes this the cult film that it has become is the bond between the stars. They have got "it" whatever it is. To the end. Which is also the biggest wave.

Now that I own it, I will definitely watch this again. It is worth watching the close calls which seem quite real. There are a couple of featurettes about the stunt men. It is really their movie.

Labels: films

Today's film retold the amazing story of a right wing media phenom who preceded the Rushes, even the Oprahs.

Evocateur: The Morton Downey Jr. Movie (2012)

I remember him. I remember being affected by him. Negatively but he had his charms and charisma. If you were into political talk at that time, he had to be recognized as a player and, somehow, important to both sides whatever those sides were.

This film dismantles any myth that may remain but there isn't much left of the high rise, high burnout career of this singular personality.

He was a fraud and a manipulator but he was so convincing and successful that did not matter. He was important because he was important.

He found the audience that became the Rush people, the Beck people and even, I think, to a great extent the Tea Party people. Not all of those but a lot who feel that being on the bottom of the pile is someone's fault and goddam it we are going to go get them.

There were other evocateurs. Sally Jesse Raphael was one of the best and she knew her game. She is here to talk about her colleague and fellow shit stirrer.

Also Phil Donahue who, from the other side, did the same thing but much much more safely.

Downey killed himself with his intensity, his desire to beat a famous Dad and his insecurity which led to a kind of combativeness that very few others dared to display.

The doc is pretty good. I think fair handed. It does use the opportunity to unmask a real fraud and poseur, Al Sharpton, who was part of a two guy act that both profited from. Al, obviously, was able to parlay that into a more respectable career because, I think, he was an opportunistic egotist and had none of the devils haunting him.

Downey Jr was up and down in only a few years. Truly meteoric.

I doubt that many people will find this film very interesting today unless they were interested at the time. The fans of the time moved on when he was shown decisively as a phony and the other side while respecting him in a way saw in his tragic end a payback from the universe, bad karma, which was kinda satisfying. Speaking for myself. And sad.

A 3 out of Netflix5.

He was, above all, a very interesting guy.

Labels: films

Today I returned to an old friend, well not so much a friend as a scary adversary.

Blancanieves (2012)

is the Grimm Brother's story of Snow White revisited.

I first met her in the Disney version and it scared the the hell out of me. Poison apples, cackling witches, pretty girls in a coma.

I think I was seven. They made me watch all the Disney things. I spent a lot of time behind the seat.

So, I revisited today with some trepidation.

This version, in Spanish, is first of all silent. There is wonderful music. Swelling symphonic music. Spanish guitars. Well not C&W.

Second of all, it is in black and white. Splendid, rich very finely rendered black and white.

Third it is based on a story of a matador and his daughter and his evil second wife who is the evil stepmother and, of course, it has dwarves.

It has ups and downs and happiness and sorrow.

It is still scary as shit. Bulls. Stepmothers. Apples.

I liked it and will probably have to argue about the ending as it is one of those hanging things which we so wish were not so but is like life.

That is not a spoiler unless you depend on happiness. None of these people are really happy happy. They are Spanish. And they are dwarves. And they are abandoned daughters.

I really couldn't watch it again but I am really glad I saw it once. It is luscious in all its cinematic glory.

So many times something like this is a stunt. The French The Artist was another breed of cat. An Academy Award winner. Also not a stunt.

This too was nominated as Best Foreign Film.

Perhaps we can look forward to some films that are so serious about how they are made and what the media is that movies can get nudged away from the superficial cgi driven spectacles they have become. Back to the basics.

Both films are powerful examples of what could be done.

A 3 out of Netflix5.

Labels: films

Raising cactus must be a bit like raising wild animals.

A wise animal trainer will always keep the word "wild" in mind. Same with the cactus guy. These plants are just on the fringe of civilization. Not ready to be domesticated.

Not only is an animal trainer required to be on guard, s/he must also be ready to accept any responsibility if there are "accidents". If he gets bitten.

I was working with my cactus today and was rearranging.

One of the least tame cacti was just asking to be slipped into a new pot and so I did the job.

Earlier I had picked up a broken plant that the cat had knocked over. Not our cat. The one who comes into the yard to annoy Booker. Well, he is our cat in a way or Booker's but he doesn't live here.

The broken cactus was a special one. It had been drooping all summer and for some reason started to straighten itself up a week ago and had just finished the move to vertical. Of course, that is/was its problem. It became too tall for the cat to jump over on the way out of the yard. Up over the fence.

I was pretty careful. I got my leather gloves which are not really proof against a prick but a help and I used an empty cereal box to hold the remains on the way to the trash so that no one else would get bitten either. I only got one little pick in the process. Pretty good.

So here I am with my wildest meanest cactus. Wild and mean because it has highly visible "teeth" which can really hurt and there are also almost invisible little tentacles that emanate further out from the bad ones. They are invisible.

The movement to another pot was no big deal. The soil was very dry and in a clump. All I had to do was slip the new pot onto the old.

I somehow let down my guard and tried doing this without gloves. Whammo! It got me.

As best I can reconstruct one of the little tendrils caught me and I lost my grip and then I fell right into the jaws of the big bastards.

I dropped the plant. As usual, it didn't get hurt.

But my hand and thumb hurt like hell and that is not an easy over and out kind of hurt.

The spines have poison on them and it releases into the cut. The pain is immediately heavy duty.

And you can feel it working its way up the finger into the blood stream. The arm can even get numb. It is still a little weird. Numb.

No gloves, a disrespect for history (this has happened with this cactus before) and a little bad luck and I am in the infirmary for a few minutes. That means I took a break, stood back, shook my hand, sucked my thumb on the mistaken theory that the venom will come out if you do that. It may but then it is in my mouth. Good that it doesn't.

These are all autonomic responses. Unconscious appeals to the primitive mind for relief. As basic as life itself.

Back in the cage you nasty bastard. I put on my gloves. No need for them now.

This cactus is my favorite plant in the entire garden. Earned respect.

Labels: cactus, gardening

I am sympathetic with the sentiment around 9-11 but I am grateful that many have developed some perspective about it.

Not to take away from people who have lost family and friends or even something as simple and superficial as their innocence.

But it amazes me that there are people who are still wallowing in it. I mean that they are acting like they are direct survivors which they usually, always as far as I can see, are not. In any way.

This reaction extends to some of the media as well.

This morning at the gym in side long range of seeing Fox Friends, I remembered what day it was.

They were saying that next up was Rudy Fucking Guliani.

If anyone needed to be quelled it is that dude.

I count it among my strengths today that I could endure the entire 30 minutes of indirect exposure and never see the bastard at all.

MSNBC seemed OK with Joe Scarborough who is kind of quiet on such things but then when I went for my flu shot, there was MSNBC broadcasting, minute by exact minute their actual coverage from that day.

I was astonished. There they were having it both ways again.

At first I thought it was just an outtake. No. It was every minute of every hour without, of course, interruption by any commercials.

I stepped away, almost sickened. I cannot explain the revulsion I felt but it was probably obvious as the woman at the desk saw it.

I said that it was a shock to see they were doing it and she agreed. The other woman was not so sure. The pharmacist said he felt the same way I did but was "afraid of saying anything about it" as it might upset some people who wanted to see it.

I told him I voted for "NO" and I guess they switched as when John went in later he said that he saw some idiocy of daytime teevee and I said that was nothing compared to the 911 coverage.

At my meeting this morning I realized right off that some people were into it. I buttoned my lip.

We somehow got through the hour without any reference (it is an outside issue of course) until the very end when someone who ought to know better did a turn on it. Making it all about him. I know for a fact that he was not there, had no one there and was only the furthest away observer.

I credit the loss of innocence. I am sympathetic.

I lost mine long ago whether it was about how the world works, how the US is vulnerable or how we had been extraordinarily lucky as no matter how many people hated us they had somehow not crossed a certain divide.

But we were alone in that respect. If you are interested and empathetic beyond the borders, the rest of the world had its horrors to tell a long time ago. Killing of innocents, hostages, kidnappings, all of it. Not at such a scale as that one day in NYC but the numbers added up to hundreds of thousands.

I must say that I was and am not oblivious to our own version of the killing of innocents. The mass destruction of cities. Our tolerance for "allies" who murder and pillage every day. Our defense of the indefensible in Israel and Palestine. The divided state.

So save me the outrage.

Or put your tears where the horror really is. Dogma and political beliefs that ignore human suffering or call it heroic and worthy of a heaven none of us here can understand. Well not me anyway.

I don't get the idea of an exclusionary heaven that the christers have in their minds either. Or the bigotry. Or the torture and tolerance for violence on people they do not like.

As a gay man I am no stranger to that form of hatred which hurts and can kill. But I do not run my life on the fear that they want to generate.

The purpose of terrorism is to create fear whether it is done by a crazy jihadist or a fundamental christian anywhere anytime. Terror is a tool of the oppressor and we suffer it because it works.

If we do not cooperate then it is dead. It will not work except to hurt and maim and be the obvious evil it wants to hide.

Come out.

Get active.

But don't sentimentalize one small part of the struggle. It is still going on with our compliance. Everywhere.

Finally.

How to put this?

I spent many weeks around the Word Trade Center neighborhood. I lived in the Marriott which is/was no more. It had already been bombed when the blind guy had them blow a car up under it a few years before.

I stayed in another hotel then, the Millennium. That is gone too.

I worked a few blocks away. I knew every inch of the area because I walked to the work, I went for walks when I went to lunch and had breaks.

It was certainly queasy to get the news. Heartbreaking. Nostalgia for the old days came up. I wanted it not to be true.

I never went back again. There was nothing there.

But it stayed/stays in my mind.

I knew no one as far as I am aware who was lost.

Only buildings.

If I did know someone I would want to honor their lives by living mine better and getting on with it.

That is it. Peace. To all. Let it go. Move on.

Note: the flag is from the Towers. A poignant reminder of a former time.

Labels: terrorism

I went and got my flu shot this morning.

Every year, like clockwork.

I do not play games with the flu.

When I was a sophomore in college (?) I had a case that lasted over a week. It was horrible. And nothing to do but ride it out.

Since that time I may have had slight cases of it but when the flu immunizations appeared I was first in line and I have never, ever, had the flu again.

I do not know if the shots worked. That is the problem with shots. But when everyone around me has the flu and I do not, I assume that the fact of the flu shot is the only answer as to "why"?

I do not ever question it. I do not miss it. It is on my calendar for annual renewal.

I am stunned when I learn that friends or family members tell me that they are not going to get it, did not get it or, and this is almost no one really, that they do not do it out of principle because the shot is well known to make people sick.

This is the same kind of bullshit that has little kids open to getting measles or whooping cough. Or, the reason that a lot of older people die of pneumonia or get shingles.

Insane.

The other thing is that when someone has not had the shot they are part of spreading the virus. There is a community responsibility in immunization.

I called my pharmacy this morning and told them I was coming so the minimal paper work was there for me to sign. I am old enough to have Medicare and it is totally covered.

When I get there, I fill out a simple disclaimer sheet about "NO", I am not a bunch of things that are contraindicative of getting immunized.

I go sit down. I am "shot". I feel nothing.

I actually look forward to it now because it gives me an excuse to visit with the pharmacist who still works there despite that it has been taken over by Walgreens. They have kept the store pretty much as it was when it was an independent pharmacy established to especially serve the HIV community which, of course, at one time used a ton of drugs. Today not so much. No opportunistic diseases. Only the simple cocktail of HIV meds.

That made the place a community project even though it was privately owned and a place where a lot of gay men and women took their business.

I stopped because prior to the Walgreen's buyout, the pharmacy had a quarrel with Blue Cross and would not take their customers. I had to go to another pharmacy and ended up at one which is also small and personal.

Now, too much trouble to transfer back. If it was the original guys I would do so but it is Walgreen's after all.

Long story. But I had to embellish it because "I got my flu shot today, you should get one too". Is a pretty short post.

Labels: health

updated 091210Today's film is a genré busting, mind altering pleasure from start to finish

Stories We Tell

Director Sarah POlley tells the story/stories of her family through the mouths of her parents, her siblings and close family friends.

An abundance of old Super8 footage is used to document the live interviews.

No surprise that all the stories are different, a point of view unique to the teller.

Beyond that, as veils are dropped and elements inserted, one learns the story of a woman, Polley's mother, who was a vivid, totally open personality who had an abundant supply of secrets.

The film keeps surprising even into the title roll at the end.

Astonishing.

Do not miss a minute.

I have never seen a film like this one and I have seen a lot.

Totally unique and involving to the very end. Do not miss the end titles. I said that. But don't miss them.

I liked this very much and suppose that another viewing could not be as powerfully surprising. I will give it a 4 out of Netflix5 and keep the happy memory of the first viewing experience. Maybe upon reflection a 5.

Don't mistake the shortness of this review as a negative. I am reluctant to say much of anything directly because it might spoil the movie for you.

Labels: films

I have waited and waited to see this movie because I didn't want to spoil it by repetition.

Maybe I needn't have worried but if waiting improved the experience, so be it.

Meet Me In St. Louis (1944)

Vincent Minnelli's masterpiece of a musical with Judy Garland and Tom Drake. Mary Astor and Leon Ames. Harry Davenport and Marjorie Main. Margaret Obrien, soon to be a big child star. She is my age exactly 1937.

At least five hit songs.

And beautifully restored. I was shocked when it came on, so gloriously rendered.

The music is not the usual "tunnel" sound, the echo chamber. They even fixed the lip synching. Flawless.

I laughed, I cried, I sang along.

It has been 70 years since this film was made and it was worth every one of them to appreciate what can be done with a little talent and a good score.

I may just watch it again in 70 years. Or sooner. A 5 out of Netflix5.

It should be said that I am not an uncritical admirer of Judy Garland. Often people think if you are gay you are a Judy fan. No.

I did have and replayed the Carnegie Hall concert record quite a few times. It was a real crowd pleaser. But her life and art went to hell and that is not to be admired.

She had a great gift and she threw it away. And I am not saying that to condemn. I share a lot of her experience. But the sad fact is that, at a certain point, her work was not admirable so much as a melancholy reminder of the ravages of the addictions to which she fell victim and the disease in no way contributed to her artistry or her personality. In spite of. She has endured and in this film we can relish the young talent that thrilled and engaged us so totally.

She is older and more adept than in the Oz thing. She has learned to love the camera and to adore her audience. She is there in full force and the cast supports every single move.

Labels: films

Things are shaking in the super market business.

I see some changes at my local.

I am going through some changes myself.

I recently left Stater Brothers, a "local" chain for the closer, bigger and better, Ralphs. Really Kroger masquerading as a local chain. Super super. But not too super.

I made the move because of some vague understanding that things were not up to snuff at the old place. Problems with outdated merchandise and then shortages of critical items. Produce not quite as good as it used to be.

My impression was that they were trying to lower costs and it was showing. Not in good ways.

A huge employee turnover was a symptom as well. New faces, not too smart clerks. Obvious personality conflicts. Not good when the help knocks the store, management or other workers.

The new place is loaded with products. It has a two tier private label line with an upscale set of products that I really like because they are new-ish and very good quality.

There is also a difference with the "privilege card" system. Staters made a thing about their lack of one but I quit believing their story. Ralph's prices can be astonishing. The yellow tag system is not unique but they are moving the deals around all the time. I do not shop on price but there it is in front of me. Irresistible not to get engaged with it. Again, the private label stuff is amazingly less money than the branded.

I have not seen the electronic stuff but they do have the self checking. I don't go for it actually. But it does siphon off the other customers who do use it. The one or two or three item folks, which I rarely am. I am not actually a candidate for self checkout because the space wouldn't hold all my items.

We do have this though. QueVision.

Why Your Grocery Store Is Installing Military Cameras

I have seen those signs and had no idea what they were for. Another thing which does not apply to me normally as I only shop before there is anyone else in the store and there is no waiting. Period.

Oh, the people. Obviously competent. Interested. Friendly. On the job. They know the layout cold.

The checkers are fast, fast, fast and even at my early time the manager who is stationed right in the center of the checkouts helps bag. And s/he talks and banters with the workers and the customers. Very nice energy. They are proud of their store and they show it.

The staff on duty in the morning is enormous. Some are just at the end of their shifts but there are others starting. There are very few aisles without "help".

I don't shop for anything else anywhere any time. I have John to do a lot of this. I use online.

But the groceries? I am the cook. I love to wallow in the store and I grew up in supermarkets. Even worked there. My Dad was a lifer with A&P. I know a good one and I know a not so good one and will go in that good direction every time.

Labels: food, shopping

Today's movie is a complete package, laughter, scares, upset and tears.

David O. Russell's

Three Kings (1999)

George Clooney, Mark Wahlberg, Ice Cube, Spike Jonze, others. And some actual Iraqis.

This is about the first Iraq war. The one that lasted for 6 days or whatever. Then we found it wasn't.

Three guys about to be separated from the Army hear about some place where they are hiding Kuwaiti gold, Saddam's guys.

A plot thickens and they decide to go after it. A piece of it.

They stumble into a rebel group still trying to overthrow Saddam.

Things go awry. And awry. And awry.

This is a great movie. Third time through it, maybe 4. That makes it a Netflix5 out of 5.

There is so much going on here that nothing is spoiled by reviewing it. New things emerge.

I use the subtitles which are quite well done (not for the hearing impaired) because the jokes come so fast and furious as well as the plot thickening that it deserves to be understood completely.

Labels: films

I have just taken all our DVDs and removed them from their jewel cases and put them in a nice big album.

It holds 352 of them. I hope never to fill it.

Here is a fact about DVDs. The cases are fucked from the get-go.

First, they are impossible to open without a majorly sharp tool. Those sticky end tapes hold on like lamprey eels. Only bandaids are harder to get off without pain.

Then, the design of the case itself has not evolved since 411 BC. They still have this reluctance to open. They have the spindle that you press for "easy out" removal. Try it. Several times. It helps if you say "goddamit" a couple of times. Or "Fuck Fuck Fuck" in rapid succession works too.

There is the worry that the removal may damage the disc so one worries about being too rough. But never mind. That is secondary. Damaged or not it does no good for us in the case.

There are some cases that have worked it out so that the four indentations around the disc are set so close you cannot even get your smallest fingernail in there to lift it out. If you ever are successful in depressing the spindle.

This is the result of modern plastics technology perhaps new since 411 BC. Fine machining possible now makes the space almost microscopic.

OK. Sooner or later it does come out of the case. Soaking the case and disc in hot water, incidentally, does not seem to help.

Out of the box, into the machine and two hours of viewing enjoyment. Almost worth it.

Once I have seen the DVD, there is no problem putting it back in. The problem begins after about the fifth DVD in the library when you try to stack or display or store them easily and visibly. From the side doesn't work very well. Too narrow to read. From the front? No. They are in a stack.

At about five it is OK to pick the pile up and old it/them in my hand. Widest grasp possible. After that it is lining up side to side in a row like books.

This is effective until another problem emerges.

The DVD case is a frictionless surface. Perfectly smooth. Each case tries to hug its mate but is disabled from doing so and, given any space between at all, will slide in another direction. Particularly if you pull out one disc and provide the small space. If two, then an avalanche.

So.

We have a lot of DVDs. Three rows about three feet wide. I have not counted.

When the width gets too far, then whole sections begin to collapse. And, something 6 inches high unnecessarily takes up a lot of available space in a cabinet.

So I found this "book". A big mother book, to hold the DVDs.

Downside is that the DVDs have to be moved and this necessitates taking the discs out of their case, mounting them in the nice no-stick nylon transparent sleeves. 6 to a page.

Remember the fucking spindle that doesn't release? Think "this is the last time". It doesn't sound onerous and it is not, if one focuses on the outcome. Neat, orderly, easy to handle.

Order. The perennial question for books, records, CDs and, now, the DVDs.

Chronological? No. Makes no sense. Some of the discs are of older films. Production date? Acquisition date?

No.

Alphabetical? No. No sense.

Subject? Well 90% of them are, in some way, gay. There are subcategories but, well, not really.

There are some obvious choices. Andres Téchine has five films in the folder, four of them from a collection. All together.

The Noah's Ark series and movie? All together.

Teen Wolf? The same. The third season on DVD is almost upon us.

And so on.

Beyond that, just pile them in. A like to force a little browsing.

In fact, the Téchine films need a going over in a small fest of their own. Another film "Adored: Diary of a Porn Star" is up for re-viewing too. A cheesy title for a wonderful film.

Another choice is around covers. The covers are, sometimes, worth seeing for a reminder, for a recap, for an inventory of scenes and extras. I kept these in the same order as the discs and held in a rubber band in case we really do look at them.

Job over. It took a week. Once I got in the groove it was automatic. I even dreamed about it one night.

I am pretty good at mechanical work once I can find the routine. Mindless work. Very good for mental health.

Another step toward mental health is the end of the DVD avalanche.

Labels: films, home