Good Afternoon

Yesterday I failed again to carry out my intention of getting up early enough to make it to the church that does the good 11 mass. I ended up going to a church on 2nd Ave. - a place I've been a number of times before and to which I always vow never to go back. Anyway, during the sign of peace, the old lady behind me instead chose to extend a "Good afternoon" rather than "Peace be with you." Huh?

Harrison?

Whatever happened to Harrison Ford? Did Calista Flockhart go on a binge and eat him? I see no TV movies, no Broadway debuts, and certainly no big screen appearance. Is anyone else out there worried about him?

Addiction

I'm about to be freed of my raging TV addition. Once the season finales are over, I will have to go cold turkey, as nothing good will be on. I'll have to get out of the apartment. Thank God.

Maybe I'll subscribe to Netflix.

Street Art

There's lots of great stuff up in LES and some still in SoHo. I love the anarchy of it all: the fact that it has to be dome at night because it's illegal; the merging of different styles; the egos involved in making your street name known; mostly the completely level playing field - anyone can do it as long as they've got the interest and the guts.

I Wish I Loved.

Worship? Love? Both?

Surprising Words of Wisdom in SoHo.

Eternal Burn.

Nights of Cabiria

Nights

Friday night I went to a late show of Nights of Cabiria at the Film Forum. Dear God, that's why I go to the movies. Ever since last summer's Bergman festival ended, my cinema experiences have been flat at best. I've seen very few really great films that stick with me longer than a few days like Nights of Cabiria will. Another Italian film, The Best of Youth, was generous and large - a pleasure definitely worth the 6 hours I spent on my ass watching it. But it didn't have that insistence of life or joy - something beyond a personal humanistic pleasure - that forces its way in despite sadness. Carnivale! I love films that become walking companions; Cabiria and I can stroll along Avenue A together.

Swedes can ROCK.

Another Video.

Love, love this song. I'm not as crazy about the rest of the album, but this kills me. It's heaven.

http://www.dragcity.com/video/JNewsom_sm2.mov

God help me.

I'm having impure thoughts about Darth Vader.

The Heresy of Paraphrase

Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul.
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.
O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?

Trash or Treasure?

I was at the park on Sunday, sitting on a bench by a trash can. Among the can’s contents was a box for a moustache trimmer. Is the need to trim a ‘stache so great that one has to do it in the park, and where did the purchaser (he, she?) plug it in?

Another Rant Stemming from the "Sexual Revolution"

The Ms. Columbia pageant (not sponsored by the university) got shut down due to “inappropriate responses” from the Columbia community.

On the site that hosted the photos of the participants, one disappointed contestant writes:

While I'm not completely surprised, I must say that I am very disappointed. I am disappointed in the fact that the image of confident women comfortable with their sexuality still frightens and upsets people. I do not think that it is right for this site to be shut down merely to appease those who are uncomfortable with strong women who are comfortable with themselves. There is absolutely nothing wrong with celebrating one's femininity and sexuality. I think these photos were beautiful. All too often women are taught to repress their sexuality and be ashamed of their beauty. I thought we had come a lot farther than that mode of thinking, but I guess that I was wrong.

“[R]epress their sexuality and be ashamed of their beauty”? Huh? It seems to me that this culture is all about women expressing their sexuality. It’s an obsession, in fact, that a hypersexualized society has hoisted upon every female. You're weird or frigid or, heaven forbid, "religous," if you don't express your sexuality. And isn't every other article I read in the Times about how good-loking people get better jobs, good-looking children get better parental care, etc.? Perhaps Ivy-Leaguers (a title I don’t put too much stock in) believe that because they are smart they are held to more restricted standards of behavior. Not being able to see the photos, I can’t say how explicitly sexual (though I’m guessing they’re soft-core – maybe a notch or two down from Playboy), but if they got all the co-eds at Columbia that upset, they must have been beyond the pale.

On the other hand, perhaps in their minds, pornography is OK, but they got their panties in a wad because members of their group, their community, were on display, and they don’t wish to be associated so closely with, and perhaps feel the effect of, such blatant sexual objectification. So it’s OK when it’s on TV – don’t you dare censor it – but when it’s the girl in your econ class, it’s not OK and protests should be staged and people harangued and harrassed to shut it down?

Let’s be frank – do men have a need to express their sexualities in such a way? Do any of my male friends have glamour shots of themselves, scantily clad, shot with soft lenses? Women’s cries that they are being prevented from sexually expressing themselves and their subsequent responses of self-display are just a paean to a cultural system that does, in fact, hurt women through an exultation of what you can get from women’s bodies (lots of good sex and good times) but a blatant rejection of the after effects of the fun.

Si yo puede!

I left work yesterday at around 3:00 because I had been there all night finishing a research project and was going on no sleep. So I walked home, feeling proud that I’m still not too old to stay up all night. OK, so I had to leave work early, but I was still functional. I didn’t go home straight away but went to the park instead and watched all the 20-year-old sk8ter bois gather and do their tricks.

I'm Back!

I was in hiding, but the press has pushed me back into the limelight, damn them. What ever happened to privacy?