Suffer For My Sins

The weather lied to me, there was no sun,just gloom and drizzle.Almost all plans were aborted this weekend.Instead I accomplished a whole lot of movies and writing.
watched..
The Jacket
Hostage
Cursed
all in one day so it's out of my system.
Every once in awhile it's just ok to go out and watch mind numbing Hollywood movies that lack in everything, except special EFX,things blowing up and the occasional sex scene thrown in for your gratuitous viewing satisfaction, along with a tub o' popcorn and junior mints.
Then I realized that I needed to balance the delicate movie section of my brain and watched a bunch of DVD's at home, actually the were on in the back ground as I attempted to write.
rewatched Garden State to determine if I did actually enjoy this movie or if it was just a bandwagon movie.I enjoyed it and I still stick to my opinion that it should have ended with him going up the escalator.I watched Coffee and Cigarettes (Jim Jarmusch).I have to be careful with him as if you watch too much of his work then you end up sounding like a film student.Naming off who you should like if you truly consider yourself a film person.But I do so enjoy him a and his story telling ways, he bobs and weaves and they all get entangled and it's lovely to see them all writhe around.

Chapter six of book, started out slow not sure where it was going all I know is that it ended and I breezed through 7 because I knew that part of my life,dreading Chapter 8-10.Think I will wait till after Mexico, just getting through the court papers and trial transcripts was enough to put me off the whole idea of the book.The idea has been mentioned that maybe I wasn't ready to put my actual name on the book ,that out of fear from my family I would use another.Then what would be the point. Have to send off first few chapters to the editor soon,so he can send back all marked up with red, just like school..

Spent Sunday printing photos and then ripping them up into puzzle pieces, my tetris idea is not working on my desk as it works in my head.So I am on a mission to collect some old Atari cartridge cases.Then from there I will see what I can do for this piece that has to be done in two weeks for this show. I'm stuck with the desire to push myself and do something different or just to do what I know, what to do?,that is the big question isn't it?

I ventured out as I said I would to see the opening of Anne's photographs. I left feeling a little underwhelmed.I wasn't sure what to expect but I know that I left expecting more.Maybe it was because the last photo show I have seen was Diane Arbus and after that I felt that I didn't need to see any for awhile as I felt so incredibly overwhelmed and ....full, if that makes sense.I went in expecting a lovely dinner and walked out after a 9 course meal with desert,punch drunk love as well.too powerful for me to even comprehend..But Friday I left thinking that it was lovely..but not that lovely, I saw the sadness in the eyes from some of the photos but didn't feel it.I bought a book and thought I needed time to think about it more before opening it , what was I wanting..Although I did leave the gallery with the business card of the owner with a promise to email him with schedule so he could view my portfolio, cause it was a perfect space.I almost felt bad cause I was looking at the space more then the work at one point.

I really wanted to find the link to this article about Charles Bukowoski, in the New Yorker Magazine from last week.Man oh man was the guy who wrote it an idiot.Not I'm not a huge fan of old Chuck but I also know good writing and poetry when I read it.This guy whose name escapes me so I will find this and give it all out to you.This "critic" or writer goes on to discuss why he wa such a bad poet, breaking down his poems and writing about how what a drunk he was (which he was,everyone knows that already) but even a drunken writer on his worst day was better then this writer on his best.It made me so mad to read it and I had to laugh out loud when I read this, laughs of
frustration and anger....you ever heard of those kind of laughs.I will find this article and link it, just in case you think I'm over reacting. But it even prompted my H. to want to write a letter to the New Yorker commenting on this article and H. has never even read Bukowski, that's how badly written this was...gotta find it