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Friday, August 27th, 2004
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Is it strange that scientists should include in their favourite science fiction films Star Wars - 'Its use of science is sketchy at best' - and The Matrix - 'the science behind the fiction is conspicuously absent'? They should have asked them their favourite musicals.
And I have just read BS Johnson's See the old lady decently which he intended as the first part of a 'matrix' trilogy but killed himself before writing parts 2 or 3. Without wishing actual suicide on anyone, can I be transported to an alternative reality where the matrix outcomes are reversed please? Only without the first film either. Frank Kermode in LRB on BSJ is worth a look. According to Peter Ackroyd's review of STOLD, it was 'very fashionable to read and even enjoy BS Johnson' in 1975. And then 30 years in the darkness. Which is preferable to 30 years in The Darkness.
Via about last night, 5 tracks for every 20th century decade. More pleased at the retrospective recognition given to Arthur 'Big Boy' Crudup, than to the votes for Steppenwolf. As if to remind us why we're all here, in the classroom web logs are the new bulletin boards.
Olympics-related notice as this is the blog all the athletes are reading: Paula, it's not too late to pull out with dignity. We're not strong enough.
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Friday, August 13th, 2004
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One day I'll write about David Foster Wallace's Oblivion: Stories, but not yet. I don't think he knows how to end a story and while, oddly, this doesn't matter in Infinite Jest - perhaps because you're so relieved at being able to lay the bastard to one side - it does with these (long) short stories. There's also a review by George Walden, who obviously shouldn't be dismissed for being an ex-Tory MP with ideas above his station, in which he states that 'the absence of an authorial heart throbbing close to the surface is curiously refreshing' which is so completely and utterly nonsense that it could only have appeared in the Telegraph.
On Death in Venice: 'Death in Venice belongs to that group of short novels (or novellas, or long short stories) whose cultural importance is out of all proportion to their length'. If only cultural importance always depended on length.
Also from/via RP, some worst books, being more interesting than best books. My vote's for Brave New World and why itunes is bad for jazz-type liner notes obsessives (via city of sound).
Following on from Communicator's post about the attractiveness of names, some unsuitable ones. What's wrong with Bench?
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I've always liked pylons. They're the only things that make walking in the countryside bearable.
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On Monday I had a hatful of links to share with the world, or at least that shady corner of the world that might tiptoe across this site, but now they have evaporated and I am tired, I am weary.
I could point towards the estimable thingsmagazine with its pictures of Berlin, French fashion (why can't we all dress like this now?) and things. And some pictures of Bratislava only because I once accidentally, but very happily, attended a vegetarian festival there.
Reputation, trust, network closure - that kind of thing.
For people who like lists, there is an Independent best comic movie adaptations one, a bit of a niche market, but Batman at the top? For the Prince title tune perhaps but only for that.
And now, if you don't mind, I'm going on holiday.
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The German (ZDF) Big Read is both bigger - 200 books - and broader than the mind-numbing, film-led BBC one. They don't limit it to novels and, as you would expect, are much less linguistically partisan - only one German book was on the BBC list and not a very German one at that. They include The Communist Manifesto, Klemperer's diaries, the Duden grammar, as well as all the usual stuff. If it were for best adapted title, it would have to be 'Bridget Jones - Chocolate for Breakfast'. My stomach turns in its grave.
NY Times have the 1,000 best movies ever made, which is taking things to extremes. Splinters links to a transcript of Newsnight reviewing Louis de Bernieres's new book which makes Bonnie Greer seem a wimp and Tom Paulin less so: 'You think, "What on earth is this omniscient narrator in his Georgian rectory built out of the money he has made from his rotten novel and rotten film writing another terrible novel."'.
Travel advice: Don't write the word 'bomb' on a (paper on a) plane in the US. They may be a little paranoid (via elegantvariation).
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Determined to shake off today's sport-induced torpor, I am distracting myself with the notion of George W as a 'post turtle', via flaschenpost which has some amusingly inappropriate comments if you can get to them.
Also some more serious stuff about GW's mental state
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Thursday, June 24th, 2004
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I rarely want to be rich but this shower makes me want to be richer (via apartment therapy)
Independent is full of all kinds of things, notably David Thomson on the Coens' decline. I'm not sure he's entirely right. I watched Intolerably Cruelty at the weekend and, although it's nowhere near as good as most of their films, it is a) pleasingly short like the best Woody Allen films b) miles better than the average mainstream American film comedy c) much better than this during the first half i.e. until the George Clooney character falls in love and starts pulling stupid faces d) less irritating than Raising Arizona. And I can forgive them remaking The Ladykillers but not Tom Hanks.
A Sight and Sound article on KillBill2 which is alternately interesting and irritating (that's what SAS is for). Apparently in horror survivor film terms, the Uma Thurman character is the 'Final Girl' because the Final Girl 'always has a gender-neutral or male name'. But she's called Beatrix.
Voting is a lonely business.
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Missed my slot last week. But then Ron died and it would be a mistake not to link to Christopher Hitchens pouring scorn in Slate - apparently when he didn't like a question RR turned into a 'cruel and stupid lizard'. So David Icke was right. If you're fed up with the tributes and the nonsense about winning the cold war, read AM Homes' story 'The Former First Lady and the Football Hero'. That'll put you right.
Somewhere there was a link to Groucho meeting TS Eliot and so I wander off to the Guardian in search of the Stephen Merchant article about the brothers the other day and find a Marx Brothers quiz on the front page. (Only 7 out of 10). The Guardian is a wonderful place. And more here for future reference. Anyone got any spare DVDs?
Momus, nonsense about Morrissey, and more, then Viennese cafés linked to for its description of a 'Melange' - more delicious to say than even to drink - which demonstrates the beauty of German: 'Bohnenkaffee mit aufgeschäumter/gequirlter Milch und Schokoladeflocken'.
Gequirlter Milch is something to covet (and I like coffee black).
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Things fall apart. Misplaced some links, couldn't decypher scribbled others and then accidentially discarded a whole post. Will quit before I'm in danger of getting ahead. So, in brief:
Reminder of Bob Dylan when he was funny and strange in 1960s George Saunders on exiting Iraq - Make him President Batman being filmed at Senate House (but not yesterday when I walked past by chance) Countries making you drive on which side (I love this. I think we should change overnight just for the hell of it. Preferably at the same time as adopting the single currency and making mayonnaise on chips compulsory) and implosions via thingsmagzne.
Or cut out the middle man and go there direct. They're a bit more organised.
[LATER - When I posted this, the original entry also appeared. Has the whole world gone completely mad? I'll have deleted it by now]
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Little doing this week. I quite liked Deirdre Day-MacLeod's piece on Britney and navels which 'first ran on Britannica.com's site when the venerable company was making an attempt to (in the words of one journalist) "make itself more attractive to the young and trendy generation." When the article appeared more than 17 million people attempted to log on to the site over the last month locking up the site's web servers and causing trouble that lasted an entire month. I assume the traffic was prompted more by the accompanying shot of Britney than by my semiotic analysis.' That'll teach them.
Beautiful Jacques Tati site, discovered just after he disappeared from the top-left corner. You can't have too much Tati.
New England ruins via thingsmag and the lyrics to Jonathan Richman's incomparable'New England' - 'Doddly-doodly-do-do-doo-do-do Dum-de-dum-de-dum-dum-da-dum-day'.
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Reading experience on music and fiction that defy expectations. Apparently some people think this is a bad thing. But penguin have it sussed - 'From June 2004, Penguin will make reading more attractive to young men - by making young men who read more attractive to women. We will make reading sexy for the first time, we'll turn books into fashion accessories, grow the market and have men & women all over the UK asking: ARE YOU GOOD BOOKING?'. Desperate times.
Lovely art deco buildings in London via tgsmg.
Still haven't made up my mind about KillBill 2 - maybe because there isn't enough there to make up a mind about. Spiked is harsh but not far away. I watched Johnny Guitar last night for the first time, which has a strong woman at the centre (effectively playing the male lead) and is at least as stylised as KB2 but felt more satisfying I think because the stylisation is not just limited to references to other films. But then it wouldn't matter if Tarantino wasn't so good at the technical stuff.
And, sadly, no stupid list in the Independent this week but an interview with Charlie Kaufman instead. Doesn't overcome my disappointment with the whole Jim Carrey thing though.
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The Independent seem to be running a very odd film Top 10 every Friday and I'm not one to pass up an opportunity for cheap abuse - this week it's Top 10 films from literature. There's something cogent to be said here about good adapted films being much better than their sources and lateral adaptations being superior to literal ones but this list contains Forrest Gump so I can't bring myself. The choice of Dekalog backs me up though as all the bits I've seen are brilliant.
I always get DJ Taylor and AN Wilson mixed up. Maybe because I don't trust people without a first name - women don't do this much, sensibly. It should only be allowed for modernist poets and cricketers. Anyway DJ overcomes my prejudice with articles about the paucity of foreign language literature in London bookshops and stupid book marketing. He's right on both counts. And the former article turns out in fact to be by AN Wilson which just proves my point. I bring these articles together with the example of Party im Blitz, newly-published, posthumous autobiography by Elias Canetti which I've mentioned before. It got some coverage in the Guardian and elsewhere but almost exclusively because he's very disparaging about Irish Murdoch with whom he had an affair. So foreign language stuff is OK as long as it has sex and gossip about British things. Backing up Wilson/Taylor (ever seen them together?), I had to buy it online though.
People chemistry on film - good that it goes back more than about 15 years for once and includes man on man chemistry (so to speak). But Mel Gibson and Danny Glover?
And pets TV on plastic bag - reason to keep the licence fee (not sarcastically intended).
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Resting, not gone you see.
Some lists - 10 best auteur films (even viewed charitably this is crap) and Top 10 predictable favourite novels. I have a love-hate thing with these lists. They should have a qualifying factor to make them interesting like Top 10 novels containing a scene set in a sea-life centre or something.
The top-notch thngsmg has an excellent image of future London from the 1954 TV 1984. Seems very empty.
Amusingly written article via arts n letters on the bizarre notion that Nabokov stole his most famous book from a 1916 story called 'Lolita' and, to confuse us, kept the title. I'm sure he wouldn't have predicted the literary detectives' skill in uncovering his deviousness in a mere 50 years. Then Slate on George W's incredibility and lots of good stuff about blogs and education and that kind of thing as usual at elearnspace.
Brad Pitt to present a radio 2 documentary on Nick Drake. The best thing about this is that the writer feels compelled to inform any readers attracted by the Nick Drake element alone that he is 'married to actress Jennifer Aniston'. Oh that Brad Pitt. I last saw Brad on a Jeff Buckley documentary - excellent taste but I wouldn't want him djing at my party thank you very much.
And this week I've mainly been listening to a CD by a singer called Franz Ferdinand which is splendid in terms of both music and typeface. I predict he'll go far.
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Thursday, April 8th, 2004
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Tuesday, March 30th, 2004
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