Bill Murray Bill Murray Bill Murray. One of the funniest and emotionally appealing films of the year. Bill Murray turns in an Oscar worthy performance as the curmudgeonly neighbor and Naomi Watts knocks it out of the park as the pregnant Russian hooker.
There is such a “shit storm” going on in the world everyday these days one hardly knows where to begin. Let’s start with the NFL situation. Compelling football players to stand during the national anthem is at the very least a violation their free speech even if the NFL is a private concern. Free speech is a basic human right and is protected in the First Amendment to the constitution of the United States. It is perhaps the most patriotic thing one can do. And what are the players protesting? Injustice. They are not protesting the Anthem, or the flag, or the country. But, rather, injustice.
What’s to be done? My suggestion is to boycott the NFL. Stop watching football. I know this is going to go over big with football fans of whom they are legion, but I am going to say it anyway. Football is a brutal, violent sport that injures its players and brings out the worst in it’s watchers and participants. And it is boring to boot.
So, I say don’t watch it. Read a book, take a hike, go to a concert, or do something creative or helpful. But don’t watch football.
I went to Wigan Pier
To see what I could see
Only to discover
The pier was no longer there
It had been demolished sometime in the past
And where it stood exactly
No one could be sure.
Hey Johnny! What are you rebelling against?
What have you got?
The grinding of the Buzz Saw
What you want that thing to say?
In a few days I will be moving into my new digs located in Old Louisville. I’ll be moving there from St. Mathews which is in the East end of Louisville and rather tony, if you get my drift. This will be my fourth move since I moved back to Louisville in 2012 maintaining a life long habit of moving every few years.
First I lived in the Highlands, which I loved, then out Westport Road which is even further to the east, and now, finally getting back to my roots and a more urban environment, Old Louisville.
Old Louisville is a historic neighborhood in central Louisville nestled between Downtown Louisville and The University of Louisville. It is the largest preservation district in the United States featuring almost entirely Victorian homes mostly made of brick. With its wide avenues, beautiful treelined streets, and magnificent mansions it is truly a wonder to behold.
Old Louisville also sports a number of fascinating and interesting taverns, bars, and grills, and an odd assortment of restaurants. And I have been having quite a time exploring the area. Here are a few snaps of my new digs, and my new neighborhood.
See you in the hood!
Lavventura (1960) directed by Michelangelo Antonioni is a film about boredom. Boredom of the Italian bourgeoisie. Ostensibly a mystery and a detective story it depicts the emptiness of the lives of a group of rich Italians as they go through their daily lives striving to find something to stave off their deadly ennui. Usually they do this through sexual peccadillo and intrigue.
Albert Camus in his celebrated essay on the Myth of Sisyphus posited that there are only two valid philosophical questions: 1) in the face of the absurdity of existence and a life devoid of meaning should I commit suicide? 2) if no, the how do I overcome ennui? This theme is fully explored in L’Aventurra. While Camus says that in a life devoid of meaning we must give our lives meaning by our our own actions the characters in this film are merely going through the paces of living and relieving their boredom in the most meaningless way possible. In in the end they are mere empty shells truly devoid of any meaning.
The group of wealthy Italians head out on a yachting trip to a deserted volcanic island in the Mediterranean. When they are about to leave the island, they discover that Anna (Lea Massari) has disappeared. Sandro (Gabriele Ferzetti) , who is Anna’s fiance and Claudia (Monica Vitti) , Anna’s friend, try without success to find her. While looking for Anna Claudia and Sandro develop an attraction for each other. When they get back to land, they continue the search with no success. Sandro and Claudia proceed to become lovers, betraying the missing Anna. They then search the Italian countryside and various cities in search of her and have an adventure and fling of their own while doing so.
Beyond the meaning of the film there is there is the theatricality and cinematic quality of the camera work which serves to support the themes of the movie. Antonioni is known for his geometric compositions, static camera, and long takes. This is what I especially admire in his films and this one is no exception.
When first viewed by audience at Cannes it was booed. Later it won the Jury prize and has become acclaimed as a masterpiece.
I rate this film 8/10.
Good Avner Noon
Resting on my Laurel
Blowing my Knose
Speak into the Mike
Lynn me a dollar
Paying a Bill
Ringing a Bell
Sitting on the John
Don’t Fall into the George Orwell all drown
Please help me I’m Pauline
Pauline in Love with you
Take my Rod and cue in
Taking down my Jeans
Care for a Garett Pat?
Just Kidding Billy!
My Precious Jules and Jims
Aldous Lang sang
Where are you Fromm Eric?
Pay the Feiffer!
My radiator is Lincoln
Sharon and Cher alike
Lisa House with an option to buy
Can Nabokov Drop?
What’s a Hemingway?
Oh, three or four pounds
I didn’t have any Joyce in the matter
Casting your Perls among Hamlets
Let Byrons be Byrons
Three pair of Keats
Where’s your Fishing Poe?
Did you Sartre the laundry?
Quit your Stalin and wash your Lenin
What kind of Fish?
Marlon Brand O
Hold the Mao, Hold the lettuce,
Special order Che Cherverez.
Il Deserto Rosso was Michelangelo Antonioni’s first foray into color and a painterly palette did he choose. He explores the themes of alienation in the modern world and the divorce between reality and spirituality. His scenes of industrialized post war Italy are both beautiful and frightening. Progress comes with a cost. Monica Vitti is extraordinary as the wife of the plant manager who suffers a mental breakdown in the face of modernity.
I rate this movie 8/10.
Amazing Space, how sweet the ship
That saved my sanity
I once was straight but now I’m not
At last I’m totally free.
Twas space at first my mind did fear
In space it was I was stranded
How precious did that space appear
The hour that I landed.
Through many dangerous asteroids
I dodged far away from home
Tis space! I cried where I am bound
And space from where I come!
Falling fast through space I’m cast
Away headed straight for the sun
I’ll be there for 10,000 years
Unless alas it’s all undone.
“Step this way please, Mr. Quarry.”
I had always known this day would come. As soon as I had stepped through the stainless steel and plate glass portals I had a premonition of dark design: today I would be chosen. This clouded my thinking as I walked through the aisles.
They had been tracking me for the last thirty minutes on closed circuit TV. They don’t bother to hide the cameras anymore, everyone knows about them by now. Even though the remote monitoring had been going on for years a strange creepy feeling still filled the senses. Someone somewhere was watching.
The excursion itself, however, proved pleasant enough. Items were skillfully arrayed in a myriad of colors. This all served to make one momentarily forget about the guard dogs, armed security, cameras and microphones. I pushed my thoughts of impending doom to the back of my mind and for a while was at peace.
Peace was not long lasting however and my dark thoughts came crashing back as we queued up to leave at the check point center. After my selections were placed in a brightly colored plastic container I was approached by a young uniformed girl.
“May I see your identification please?” she cheerily inquired.
They’re trained to do that. To act cheerful. I reached into a pocket and retrieved my wallet. I withdrew the required paperwork and handed it to her. She studied it carefully for a moment, frowning, then she spoke.
“Step this way please, Mr. Quarry.”
Damn! I hate this! I follow her through a maze hallways and tunnels, my heart pounding wildly in my ears. Finally, we arrive at the interrogation center located deep within the recesses of the building.
It is a long narrow room with double doors at either end. Fluorescent tubes over head flood the room with rays of light that glance from white wall to white wall. From floor to ceiling, completely filling the room with dazzling brightness. The room is devoid of furniture or fixtures save five orange molded plastic chairs that lined the wall closest to where we entered.
“Remove your clothing please,” the girl commands in solemn tones.
I hesitate a moment, feeling a bit shaky, and not really believing this was happening to me, but this was my first time. I just stare blankly into her dull grey eyes.
“Remove your clothing please,” she repeats, a little more harshly now than before.
I begin disrobing slowly and she smiles her approval. She watches with seeming disinterest. Probably does this all day I think to myself as I step out of my trousers. I hand my clothes over to her in a bundle. She glances hurriedly over my naked body then she searches through my clothing. Apparently satisfied that I have nothing to conceal she returns my apparel and announces that I am to get dressed again.
“You can’t be too careful these days,” she says. “Please be seated. Someone will be with you in a minute.”
After I finish dressing I sit in one of the chairs against the wall. I am only sitting there a few minutes when the double doors at the other end of the room burst open. I am suddenly joined by a middle-aged professional looking man in a long white lab coat closely followed by a younger man in a similar coat pushing a two- tiered cart laden with various pieces of electronic apparatus. The two men had apparently been catapulted together down the long corridor preceding the double doors which even now are still swinging on their hinges.
“Good day, Mr. Quarry. I am afraid we are going to need some additional information.” This from the middle-aged man. “If you will be so kind as to bring one of those chairs over here to the center of the room, we can begin our session.”
I comply with his request as the younger man proceeds to engage his equipment. A pneumatic tube is wound tightly across my chest. Around my arm, just above the elbow, a heavy canvas band is wound tightly into place, constricting the flow of blood in my arm and measuring its pressure. To the tip of my middle finger a shiny silver electrode it taped. This to measure body temperature. I am now wired to the polygraph machine. The young technician finally plugs the electrical cord into the waiting outlet box in the floor and flips the switch, thereby breathing life into the machine. Needles become erect on their respective dials and a low barely audible hum indicates that the machine lives.
“Now Mr. Quarry, a few test questions to calibrate the machine to your particular bodily reactions.”
My interrogator stands behind me a little to one side. His presence is known to me only as a disembodied voice coming to me over my right shoulder. His questions are simple at first. What is your name? Did you ever steal money from your parents as child? And so on. The came the pertinent questions.
“Your place of employment?”
“River City Mutual.”
“Length of service?”
“Your wife’s name?”
“And your wife’s place of employment?”
“And your wife’s income?”
I let go with a little laugh after this, but there was no reaction from anyone else in the room, but the machine. Its arcing stylus bleeds red ink onto the moving graph paper.
So the questioning goes, probing into all areas of my life. A list of personal property is given. A list of friends and relatives is given. Finally, it is over. I had begun to hyperventilate. My left arm is numb. My body fairly floats in perspiration. The skin at the back of my skull crawls with anxiety. I stagger to my feet having come through the ordeal, much to my surprise, alive.
“Miss Jones will escort you back up front,” I am informed.
The interrogation unit disengages its equipment and disappears through the same double doors from whence it came. Simultaneously the same girl that had brought me here reappears at the opposite end of the room. She holds the door open and beckons me to follow.
“This way please, Mr. Quarry,” she says.
We pass through the same series of hallways and tunnels until we arrive once again at the check point center. We wait a few moments at the desk. A phone rings. Miss Jones answers. Stone face. She replaces the phone in its cradle then flashes a smile in my direction.
“Your check has been approved, Mr. Quarry. Here are your purchases. You may exit the store now and thank you for shopping at S and M.