Les Chansons d’Amour
Friday January 09th 2009, 12:40 am
Filed under: damn,poetry,something new Tags:

A cult hit with the under-25 set, apparently.  An Umbrellas of Cherbourg for the 21st century, they say.  Bless netflix instaplay – this afternoon I read of the movie, conceived a desire to see it, and now am satiated.  Same good looking chap as the Bertolucci film, The Dreamers.  He does young and sexually complex quite well.  Which is to say, what, French?  I don’t wish for tragedy, I don’t wish for complexity, but the last line of the film is a doozy.  Fag inspired but fag resisting, a new regime of touches to the hand, the knee (which was unexpected), and the foot (my old forte, but avoiding blade contact, of course), I feel the revel and the grief, but moderate, down the rest of the wine, set the alarm, and brace for meetings on the morrow.  C’est la vie.



on reading hapworth 16, 1924, for the first time
Tuesday January 06th 2009, 12:05 am
Filed under: copy-and-paste,inner-polish-teenage-girl,libraries,self-indulgent Tags:

A Salinger story I’d never fricking heard of; passive fan-dom at its worst.  To claim it as samizdat, printed out from the online New Yorker archives, facilitated by the New-Yorker-On-A-Harddrive project, is to fall down the wonderland rabbit hole (or whole) of originality in a digital age, of art in an age of mechanical reproduction, of a world Nadezhda would no doubt have something withering to say.  A letter, from Seymour Glass, to his family, written from camp, with only the most minimal of Buddy Glass frameworks.  A short piece, in Talk of the Town, telling me what to think, and, worse and far more notably, to think of it at all.  The new year, the renewed writing, the renewed work, the renewed sense of purposive engagement with a larger and more complex world, the only thin lines standing between me and not caring about this story at all.  I care, but it was closer than I care to admit, and in admitting, there is still much work to be done.  Huh.  Caring. It keeps coming up.  If “exemplarity” was year 1, and, uhh, I forget year 2 (authenticity? morality?), perhaps emotional connection is this year’s theme, brought to you by the letter C and the number 3….



why do i care?
Saturday January 03rd 2009, 6:18 pm
Filed under: Berkeley,bored now,fear,friends,inner-polish-teenage-girl,tempest in a teapot Tags:

The question of the day. Followed by Do I Care, Is This Caring, What Is It I Actually Am Caring About, Why Does This Matter, and If You Don’t Care Why Are You So Fussed? An old friend, who at some point ceased to be a friend without actually ceasing to be a friend. If you see what I mean, and I think you do (or, for that matter, know of whom I speak). An angry outburst at the friend-in-the-middle last night, and dinner tonight. Which I’m sure will be perfectly innocuous. But I’m irked, and feeling unresolved about the whole caring question. Is it nostalgia (the pain of an open wound, says one), a lost self, a lost other, a very emphatically not lost self or other? “He’s a clown”, said still another friend, with regards to still another player in this dumb, dumb, dumb game that both is and isn’t, matters and doesn’t, bugs me and doesn’t.