cont.

Oh, and by the way I freakin' love Woody's NY Jew neurotic witty as hell dialogue...fuck man that's the way I talk and it's the best damn thing about this freakin' city, the street musicians and the eavesdropping, there's more clever banter to be found along 3 blocks on the upper west side than all of the mid-west combined, I bet my hair on it...And by the way I thought Melinda & Melinda was good...maybe it's just the director, we're on the same wavelength most of the time...with a few horribly disappointing and notable exceptions. (He must have been crvaing criticism at that point)...so to the people who like the fact that you couldn't find the typical Jew speak or any other Allen trademarks, for shame, i say, for shame....

Unanswerable or is it?

What makes us who we are? What determines the decisions we make? Do we weigh consequennces, benefits vs. losses like balancing a checkbook? Are we aware? Yes, I just saw matchpoint and found it be a much thinner version of "crimes and misdemeanors" which is devastating and clearly a tragedy. It seems that Woody has fixated on a few themes which he continues to obsess over and attempt to work out through different modes of dramatization. Can we understand human suffering and love best via tragedy or comedy? Personally I saw a Freudian element at work in the character of the protagonist, ie: his father in law who in his own words "loved him" and also provided for him replaced the alcoholic father from whom he had escaped, most likely not much of a provider or nurturer. If we go that route we can call Nola his Id and Chloe his super-ego, always reminding him of what he should be doing to satisfy her/ his father...Or we can take a feminist perspective and look at the virgin/ whore decision similar to the main female characters in both "the Idiot" and to a certain extent, "crime and punishment", although the women are more complex/ multi-dimensional in Notes from the underground" and Bros Karamazov and in most of Woody's other films. Also from a Marxist perspective: mustn't one have a certain amount of self-loathing to live in the spoils of inherited old money" (British noless) when one is familiar with the suffering of the working class (Irish no-less) Also why is Chris so impressed with the ultra-bourgoise "generousity" of funding the arts and taking care of one's own family, while being well acquainted with the suffering of th elower classes? Well, maybe this is the classic inferiority complex at work and we go back to psycho-analysis, (Adler), but seriously, there are far less contrived and thereby more realistic ways of demonstrating the impact of luck in our lives, those plot points were too heavy handed to be believable...

Trailer of soon to come on this blog

A well informed, academically cited rant about the idiocy of the whole BS million little pieces uproar, aka "why is this society so incredibly stupid?"

A diatribe about the war of the so-called sexes, backlashes, feminism, this really wierd time in history and the likes

A story about kinky sex, from the gender-free diary of me...

Some of my gender-non-specific poetry and a few short stories perhaps

A review of book (s), movie(s) art show(s) or anything else I can be informed enough about to discuss after experiencing it

A fucking angry ass rant on why ignorant progressive WASPS should not think supporting the election of Hammas makes them seem sympathetic to the plight of Palestinians

More introspective self obsessed psychologizing about why I'm so neurotic (it's all my parents' fault, well, actually it kinda is)

WHy APA format sucks, and the secret closeted support for MLA format confession

Pictures of me naked, artfully done of course...

What professors really mean

not working to your potential: lazy spoiled brat
unclear: I thought you had to pass 3rd grade writing standards Before getting into college
I'm not sure what you're referring to here: your instant message chat doesn't get you credit for the page requirement
Please remember to cite your sources correctly: You can't just MAKE SHIT UP and say Shakespear said it
Excellent paper: Too bad it was published in 1842 and you're getting an F for plaigarism

bye for now phantom audience

swimming in swarms of sweat and swine

It is raining and plans to be according to my online weather projector for almost all of next week. I am raining as well in sync with the weather. I feel as if I have been leaking, pouring, I feel drenched and drenching, wasted, swept away. It is Sunday, and i have had a full and intense weekend. Full of enchantments and intensities, once again I have managed to miss Yoga, laundry, to not finish...books, calendars, to keep on schedule. I met a woman with giant, fully lashed eyes, who moved her body like one long ribbon. I melted and watched my friends transform, watched my perspective shift, felt my longings hover threateningly then recede then come crashing back into my gut like lead. I wanted to start a fight, to strut, to spill blood, but I chose to dance instead. Now, in less than a day...I go back... to work, to talk intelligently with the full thrust of expertise behind me like a satin pillow at my elbows. I go back to taking things literally, seriously, to acting my age, to staying on schedule, to riding the rails. On Friday afternoon on the way back from my friends house I was redirected to Coney Island on the D train. Suddenly everyone become a Russian grandparent, Babushkas and their stooped toothy male equivalents all around me, Russian mixed with old German, Yiddish, who knows what mix...it is strange the arbitrary nature of countries, the places we live, the languages we speak, suddenly i was a foreigner, although my great grandmother was one of them, I am not. New York City, I will never be more at home than in a place of immigrants, strangers, upon strangers, becoming stranger by the minute. The edge of insecurity dusts the air of NYC and makes it feel familiar. I could never live in plantation land or on the genteel farms or in the small protestant towns of New England. I could never breeze easily and confidently down the sunswept streets of the mid-west. Perhpas in Arizona with it's deep red stretches where I have never been but only imagined I would feel somewhat comforted, just by the vastness...Kafka who wrote his America without ever having seen it, Germany was no more than his subconscious, only in Amerika, the country of his mind's eye, could he look outside, out the window, so to speak. I nolonger crave travel, I would like to begin to feel rooted. Maybe this week I will finally make it to the Yoga class I've been planning to attend for the last 10 years...

foaming at the mouth and ready to spew all over the entire cyber-world...It's the greatest farce to hit democracy, democracy overload, everybody screaming at the top of their lungs all at once, glorying in the having of their voices heard, yes, fellow republicans (I mean that in the classical sense), this is true hyper democracy in a hyper-real world, where identities live and die as fast as bacteria on the subway, everybody's talking and nobody's listening, but still it's freedom, freedom in overdrive, an implosion of opportunity...and yet, were I to stumble upon the daily recountings of a 12 year old girl in Wyoming, would I not sit transfixed, unable to budge until I'd read through each of her crushes, her bitching about being bored, and as some of these sites apparently feature, keeping track of her "moods"? I've done it, I tell you, on long, boring nights, I've sat glued to the torrid tales of mid-western housewives and anorexic teens, yes, there is a slight gender bias, but I once watched a "cam" show on public access t.v. which recorded each episode of some sleeping, drooling, lanky 2o-something, just waiting to see if he would move, hoping for an eye-flicker, or a particularly eloquent groan....Ahh and why not wax poetic about this insatiable curiousity combined with the endless narcissism it always attaches to...is it not human to strive desperately to know our fellow man/woman, and even more so to seek to know through other's eyes ourselves? Who was it first who said the worst thing one can do to man is to give him freedom, he will rebel against it with all his might? I don't know but if not the first, Doestoevsky said it in a book I am currently reading no less, Yo Bros Karamazov... (that was meant to tie in with the previous rant about freedom overload)
So I will not be posting any "pics"...this will be a gender free endeavor, ask yourselves fair people, what type of person would want that? Straight woman? Gay man? Hmm,hmmm, i know the art of curiousity, i also know that if food is dangled too far for too long from the lips of a hungry person he will soon prefer to look at his shoes...do you see the narcissistic fantasy I have already convinced myself of? I have already fallen prey to the belief that I am writing before some audience, that there are some actual ears, eyes, genitals to which my ranting is being transmitted...oh, that won't happen, because I will never tell my friends about this, the only people who will see this will be, well, random unfortuante wanderers tripping through the desert wasteland of cyber-ness the thirst for human connection in even the grossest form burning their throats...Well, for those sad few, I apologize, this is all just vanity and I won't pretend to make it more.
ps Aww f--k it, I'm doing this because I had a converstaion about how dumb this s--t was with someone who lost romantic interest in me suddenly, so I'm secretly doing it out of spite, and because I'm a writer, and an academic/ amateur philosopher/ politicizer/ opinionater and because my parents never listened to me :)
bye...oh phantom audience, I shall miss you...
ps I will write about sex in the future...and it'll be hot...stay tuned, hehe

So, it's just this easy. Make up a silly name and yes, the millionth password I've been asked for since the age of technology first hit, and here I am

So, it's just this easy. Make up a silly name and yes, the millionth password I've been asked for since the age of technology first hit, and here I am

Wow

Wow

Wow