I found this booklet lying purposefully on a seat in the subway train. Like any good piece of public art, I added my perspective and left it where I found it, awaiting the next step in its evolution.
Music for your ears to taste: "Origin Of The Species" by MC Frontalot
I do not frequently imbibe alcohol; my position being: if I want to poison myself, I'll gnaw on the contents of my landlord's mouse trap, and if I want to stop being sober, I'd sooner trust the contents of children's cold medicine. However, occasionally circumstances dictate that I engage in distasteful activities, if only to prove my inherent badassery to my more dipsomaniacal fellows. Upon putting that erstwhile plant matter in my innocent innards and eventually finding myself alone amidst the chattering crowd, I engaged in the closest thing I'll probably get to automatic writing. The results follow:
The cacophony of ages drains helplessly upon the aegis stomach of nighttime splendor. And kind whimsy can find a spot for comfort in the dragon-child laxity of coiled expense. The gourd of magic is passed into the mental typhoon. Hyperactive classes won't fly with me tonight. Alight and sigh between heaves of nocturne follicles. Corn and spiders be everywhere not morose. Coinage of might is the only way of spending growing sane. Try nothing and be happy. Hip hags and cripples aim for gypping the the go-to men for men of power. Monsters glitter and gored plates disdain the organ player at their peril. Corridors of navel trees abound in the etheric logo. Plinths and planks and plums point power and pink pale pools up, pound by pound. Is there a magazine of brazen logs, fired loud and flagrant?
The Middle.
Music For Your Ears To Taste: "Escape From Nebula M Spacehunter" by Daikaiju
I love me some Christian Slater. I
know. I can't explain it. He's not the greatest actor in the world
(though he's probably better than you think if you haven't seen “He
Was A Quiet Man”). He doesn't star in amazing movies. And I'm not
gay. There's just something about him. He's able to project his
charisma off the screen in a fashion few other actors can. He can
even make otherwise unbearable films (such as “The Wizard” and
“Alone In The Dark”) tolerable. And while I first learned about
him through his gosh-darn-it-at-least-he's-trying
British-dialect-butchering performance in “Robin Hood: Prince Of
Thieves,” he cemented his cinematic excellence in my mind via the
film “Kuffs.”
“Kuffs” is an early 90's
coming-of-age story about a young, hip slacker who's given guff by
his elders and continually shows himself to be smarter than they are.
I'm sure you're simply flabbergasted at the display of singular
creativity employed there. What makes it special, though, is the
presentation. The film opens with a bit of written exposition
explaining that in the 1800's, the citizens of San Francisco found
themselves overwhelmed with crime and so split the city into
districts looked after by “Patrol Specials,” essentially a
private police force. Christian Slater portrays the eponymous George
Kuffs, the underachieving younger brother of Brad Kuffs (played by
Bruce Boxleitner), a district owner and Patrol Special in San
Francisco, who is gunned-down by a gangster for refusing to sell the
district. George then inherits the district and, in the name of his
brother, takes on the job of Patrol Special himself, despite being
completely unqualified. He finds himself at odds with his staff, the
Police, and his brother's killer. Hilarity ensues. Sort of.
The thing about this film is that it
alternates between several drastically different tones: at times airy
and humorous, other times deadly serious, and occasionally soft and
romantic; but it manages these tone shifts extremely well. It
maintains a consistency of narrative where none of the elements feel
out of place. I credit this chiefly to Christian Slater. He lets us
believe he can be the same character in each of these situations
without losing credulity in all the others, mainly through his
talking directly to the camera. While so many of the actions Kuffs
takes could easily cause us to recoil or write him off, his casual
breaking of the fourth wall allows Slater's charisma to draw us in
and makes us feel part of his life. We understand his decisions,
stupid though they may often be, and, in spite of them, we root for
him to win. Throw in a catchy score by Harold Faltermeyer, excellent
acting by all the other players (including Milla Jovovich and Tony
Goldwyn), and a surprisingly well-constructed script and you've got a
movie that I just adore.
~S-B
[Edit: Upon finding the "Kuffs" trailer, I discovered this one, which could possibly be the greatest movie trailer in the history of lampshades.
Anyone claiming to speak for God
Is truly a trickster and a fraud
Hoping to snare some simpering sod.
Or, perhaps, convince an aching clod
Whose ego needs but a tiny prod
To believe there's nobility in every plod
Because this proves he is greater than cod
Whose design, unlike his, is inherently flawed.
Now he knows upon whom to laud
The praises for things which have left him awed.
Then all at once his life is now lawed
So he rails against the Marquis de Sade
And those whose moral footing he thinks poorly shod
Not just here, but also abroad.
He cares not upon what freedoms he'll trod
For he finds the notion amusingly odd.
He thinks rights without heaven are just a façade,
Though his definitions are sufficiently broad
To allow his kind, with a wink and a nod,
To march against "tyrannies" which they claim maraud
Their right and their duty to ensure a bawd
Or a person whose privates are too often pawed
Or the collective misdeeds of the immorality squad
(A killer, a liberal: two peas in a pod!)
Receive the punition of the Almighty's rod.
And the day the last iceberg has thawed
The last tree has died and the last crow has cawed,
When the entire planet's been run over roughshod
The flock of the faithful will madly applaud
What they perceive as the triumph of God.
"'This is a
community which takes pride in being drug-free!' In actuality, only
about seventeen people are truly abstinent, but they take so much
pride that they don't have room for it all and it leaks out. At
first, we attempted to point out that this left a large mess, but our
simple criticism was decried as an attack; it would seem those most
eager to take pride are often the quickest to take offense. So the
rest of us remain silent and put up with it, but we can't help
leaving mucky footprints everywhere we go.”
Music For Your Ears To Taste: "The Mosquito Song" by Queens Of The Stone Age
