RandomCha

I’m tired of people who vote for/against a candidate based on a single position. It’s childish and simplistic. We’re never going to get anywhere in this country unless we can look at the totality of things.

I stumbled out of bed at 6.30 and downloaded the new David Byrne/Brian Eno album. It’s wonderful. The tracks seem to alternate between swampy gospel skronk and clear-eyed wholesome anthems: both alternate approaches to the issue of spiritual dislocation. And the tunes are catchy as hell. Listening to it now, can’t wait to listen to it again.

It’s a peaceful morning. That’s my favorite thing about Sunday mornings: the placid, even pulse of time. We make our pot of coffee and have our scones, and then I shuffle to my computer and write, or just surf. So far this morning I’ve written an entire Chicagoist post and a few emails. Andy is folding his laundry and listening to a CD sampler of 20th Century classical music. It’s still quiet outside (the Air & Water show hasn’t started), I’m fully charged up on caffeine and yet totally relaxed. Later in the day of course this will all change. But for now I’m content in the moment.

Sunday mornings we all went to church when I was growing up. I haven’t gone to church since college really, for reasons I won’t go into now but which you can probably guess. But I still love Mahlia, still love the Staples Singers. I like listening to music on Sunday mornings. Somehow my ears and fresh and ready to absorb sounds. It’s the one morning of the week I have no interest in listening to NPR.

Last night we went to opening night of Fake Lake, the new show by the Neo-Futurists written by Sharon Greene. She’s an old college friend of Andy’s. It’s easily the best show I’ve ever seen of hers. It’s about a weekend trip she took to Lake Powell several years ago, and it’s immeasurably enhanced by the way it’s staged: in a pool. An actual pool. The Welles Park pool in Lincoln Square. The audience is seated on bleachers at pool’s edge, and the action takes place in the water and around the room. It’s funny, it’s touching, it’s altogether stimulating.

When we got home I turned on the TV and we ended up watching about 20 minutes of the Olympics, long enough to see Usain Bolt win the gold medal in the 100-meter sprit and set a new world record. It was pretty amazing to watch. So I guess I’ll have at least one memory of the games this year.

Later today I’m meeting K. for the first time. He’s visiting Chicago to help cast a production of his play, which opens here next February. It should be fun to hang out and show him around the neighborhood a bit. We’re seeing a show tonight at Stage Left. That’s two plays in one weekend! Can’t remember the last time that happened.

Time to head to the shower.

The Driver [1978]

1. “You wanna TV, it’s a dollar extra.”
2. He enters the cheap hotel room and goes into the bathroom with a bag of ice and a 12-pack of Coke.
3. Ryan O’Neal is never shown wearing a seatbelt. Actually, none of the drivers are. He doesn’t wear gloves when he drives either.

What a lovely day, and what a lovely weekend we have to look forward to. Except. For the stupid, stupid, stupid Air & Water Show.

The Simpsons Movie [2007]

1. “His big ass would have shielded us all.”
2. Bart naked on skateboard. Strategic hole in the fence.
3. Homer in M.C. Escher world.

Henri Langlois: The Phantom of the Cinematheque [2004]

1. Something one of the interview subjects says. There is an American university with an extensive archive of pornographic films and videos. Anything that’s released, they try to acquire a copy. Why? Because they have a program which studies middle-class interior furnishings. And porn is a record of how people furnished their apartments and houses. The students watch the footage but they’re not paying attention to the sex. They’re looking at end tables and carpeting. Porn as documentary. (See William E. Jones).
2. Langlois is giving a casual tour of the objects in the archive. He suddenly holds up Mother’s skull from Psycho.  He explains that Hitchcock wanted to give something to the Cinematheque.
3.  When Langlois died, his longtime companion Mary stuffed his shoes full of the telegrams of condolence that had come from filmmakers all over the world. She put the shoes in a box and sent them to the President of France. 

Excuse me. But this shit is being said with a straight face by our own Attorney General:

“But not every wrong, or even every violation of the law, is a crime.”

“That does not mean, as some people have suggested, that those officials who were found by the joint reports to have committed misconduct have suffered no consequences,” Mr. Mukasey said. “Far from it. The officials most directly implicated in the misconduct left the Department to the accompaniment of substantial negative publicity.”

So now “negative publicity” is a suitable form of punishment?! Period?!

Yeah, I’m shameless …

My birthday is August 22nd.