Rears of the Year III
check out that little kid in the way way back with the white shirt on(b/w butts far right and second from right)...he has his hands clasped together in gleeful joy....
Korean models pose for a group of photographers on a riverbank in Cholwon, north of Seoul, on April 28 during a promotion for the film "Mago". REUTERS/Jason Reed |
Downtown Brown
. . .
Tina Brown was the guest speaker for the last of the Delacorte Lecture series. The place was packed, a lot of non J-school students showed up. I was annoyed throughout the lecture by one of my fellow students sitting two rows in front of me, some ex-Israeli soldier turned journalist. He and his girlfriend and their damn PDA. It didn't help that he had plumber's butt. I mean, I'm okay with PDA but there is a time and place. Bar? fine. Sidewalk? sure. Grad school lecture? Yasser says no, sir.
And he also kept looking at the back of the room every 30 seconds and every time he did his stupid girlfriend would follow his lead and look. Later i would find out that he was looking out for his friend, who ambled in about 45 minutes after we got started. whatever.
Anyway, Tina had prepared a long ass speech about how she got started as a reporter for The Statesman before moving on to edit the Tattler in London. She then moved to New York to resurrect Vanity Fair (she talked at length about the risque naked Demi Moore cover), then how she moved on to the New Yorker and finally Talk magazine and its inevitable demise. It was a nice lecture with a handful of snorts, a few titters of laughter, and an occasional chuckle burst.
When question and answer time came up, none of the audience was asking questions. Prof Navasky who was moderating stalled for time and it was at that point that i decided to step up. (richard) Prior to that, a question flashed through my mind. I rehearsed it in my head for about 15 seconds and walked 6 inches to the mic (i was sitting right next to it).
the gist:
"Hi. I have two professors this semester who used to work for you. I'm not going to name names but it's Jim Stewart and Dave Blum. (laughter). Damn, what was I gonna say. (laughter). Oh yeah. We've also had a number of guest speakers in my classes who have also worked for you at various publications and we talk about how to pitch stories to magazine. What do you mean when you say a story has to be "hot." (laughter). I mean, they've explained it a bunch of times but I still don't get it." (laughter).
Tina replied with some shit and talked about an example of a story that was to her, "hot." It was something about nuns, I don't remember exactly.
I guess this needs an explanation. Among writers, Tina is known for only wanting buzzworthy stories which she classifies in two categories of "hot." T-hot or V-hot. Too/Very. I still don't get it.
Anyway, a bunch of people gave me props as we were drinking beers at the West End. In conclusion, I'm hot.
Padma Lakshmi, Salman Rushdie and Tina Brown at the publication party for Martin Amis' new book-photo by:Dave Allocca DMI |
The Wannabe Cane Kicker
So there I was, heading to the Taco Bell on 95th and Broadway. As I'm walking in, this bum with a cane asks me for some change. I'm on autopilot so I proceed to ignore him.
"Give me a quarter. Hey Hong Kong! Hong Kong! Give me a quarter!"
I open the door to TBell and he realizes he doesn't have my attention so he throws in for good measure, "fucking faggot."
It doesn't really hit me until I'm in Yo Quiero what this piece of shit was saying. I start stewing. I hate agressive bums.
Several different scenarios I fantasized about while waiting for my food: got any change africa? ... yeah, here's your change...throws quarter on the ground...punches bum in his face....kicks bum's cane...glares at bum...bum is deranged...bum is agressive...bah.
Armed with all this shit, I walk outside with my burrito supreme and mad packets of Fire and look for the bum. He's hobbling down the street saying over and over to some gay guy in a gay sweater, "Just one quarter, man, just a quarter..." I'm kind of disappointed I wasn't able to put this bum in his place but then I realize what a lose-lose situation this whole situation is. I start walking in the other direction looking at this shit over my shoulder and as the bum finally gets his hard-won quarter from the guy gay, I say, "Fuck."
The Real Rear of the Year
For your viewing pleasure:
This was taken in Flushing, Queens. Me and my photographer Sandy (i like calling her my photographer but she's really just a fellow Columbian) went out to take pictures for my KoreAm article on the korean murder thing with tae wook and friends. We were about to hop on the LIRR to go back to manhattan but decided to eat at this place cuz we heard they had the best buns in new york. but we all know who really has the best buns....bah
They are making it into a cover story. I'm scared.
Cat Nap
I fell asleep for 30 minutes watching "The Cat's Meow." Here's the busted ass movie review i wrote for my Cultural Affairs class. It took me 72 minutes to complete it. In other news, I received Second Place for Best Trend Story for my Britney Blog piece of shit I wrote last week...Prof Garland pointed to my shit as an example of incorporating one's own voice into a piece. I have discovered that in order for people to think your shit is distinct all you have to do is write 'urine' and 'pee' and you're gravy...
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Although mostly dripping with the moral corruption, guilt, and ambiguity of a 1940s film noir flick, The Cat�s Meow is a film that takes on characteristics from several different genres -- the result of which is a movie that lacks a consistent mood throughout and leaves the audience seeing the same scenes done a dozen different ways.
The movie, released by Lion's Gate Films, revolves around the mysterious 1924 death of the man credited with creating the Hollywood studio system, Thomas Ince (Cary Elwes), aboard the extravagant yacht of media mogul William Randolph Hearst, who is played by the multi-faceted Edward Herrmann.
The meat of the film takes place between two pieces of bread. The top bun is when Hearst�s famous guests, including Charlie Chaplin (Eddie Izzard) and actress Marion Davies (Kirsten Dunst), board the yacht for a weekend to celebrate Ince� birthday. The bottom bun is when Ince is wheeled off on a gurney, a bullet lodged in his brain.
Jennifer Tilly is mustard. She plays a ditzy yet resourceful Louella Parsons, the legendary Hearst gossip columnist, and she provides both comic relief and just the right amount of flavor to keep things from getting bland.
The ensemble cast has director Peter Bogdanovich giving us all the elements of a murder mystery but with no murder, at least not until the end. This seemingly backwards approach leaves the audience not trying to figure out whodunit, but when who will do it and why he is taking so damn long. Indeed, the most interesting scenes in this film occur in the last half hour, after Ince is shot.
While Bogdanovich mostly fails with creating an engaging narrative as he attempts to delve into the historic scandal that unfolded during the weekend cruise, the strength of this film lies in the complexity of his characters, particularly with Herrmann�s portrayal of media ogre Hearst, who is referred to as �W.R.� by his stuffy Hollywood peers, but more affectionately as �Willie� by his youthful mistress Marion Davies. Hearst�s obsessive desire and jealousy sometimes borders on lunacy, but is countered with vulnerability and finally, the pure power Hearst has over others, both in the media and interpersonal relationships.
Dunst delivers a solid performance as the starlet Davies and seems right at home playing the ing�nue. With her classic Hollywood good looks, Bogdanovich makes a wise choice in casting her. Although Dunst radiates with almost na�ve prettiness, her intelligence and sometimes-devious motives are communicated through her eyes. Eddie Izzard plays a charming and self-assured Charlie Chaplin -- the man Hearst suspects Davies is having an affair with -- but does not play the lechery to the hilt which the role requires.
The film�s dialogue is sharp and witty throughout; sometimes cleverly annoying but for the most part simply clever. The scenes between Hearst and Ince as they negotiate ways to eliminate Chaplin from the equation and other devious arrangements, crackle with double meaning and contributes to the overall dark feel of the film, despite the gaiety of their continuous flapper parties and dancing of the Charleston.
In a similar fashion, the dialogue, the actor�s performances and the direction Bogdanovich gives them all contribute to the general mood of the film and the result is one big double entendre that will leave impatient movie-goers irritated. But for those who hunger for allusion, innuendo, and other shady elements dessous des cartes, this film will satisfy.
-30-
I give this movie 3/5 ddong balls.
Some guy in one of my Audio Galaxy clubs sent me a song, "Sway" by Bic Runga. For some reason, I'm really into it now and it only took me 6 times before i realized i liked it. It turns out that this girl is from New Zealand and is half-chinese. She's pretty hot too. Anyway, she has a nice lilting voice that is appealing, esp when the mood strikes you.
ah, i forgot to post this from last week. I scribbled it down on some shit during class:
So there I was, skateboarding up Amsterdam. I was 30 minutes late for class. As I neared the intersection on 111th St., I rolled up to a student driver with the big yellow STUDENT DRIVER cheesehead sign on the top of his ugly blue Topaz. They were stopped at the light. Some weird part of me was hoping the light would turn green just as I rolled past the driver side window, which was open. I wanted the student driver to narrowly avoid hitting me so i could yell, "Why don't you learn to drive you piece of shit!" The irony would taste like the 30 nosebleeds I got last weekend.
And he would look at me with a scared and helpless look as if to protest, "But, don't you see...I am learning..." Soon, his fear would soon turn to anger as it so often does and then he'd begin to feel wronged, all the while, i would sit there smug as a bug, fully content in knowing that i was simply fucking with this guy. cuz you see, he doesn't know that I know but he thinks he does and it's all very entertaining...but only to me, of course. I was willing to risk my life all for some stupid irony-riddled joke that no one would notice....
worst post ever.
A-4. G-13. The X-factor. 49ers are #1. Bill Macy. The Singapore connection. Neurotic Korean Jew. 818 aka dummy. Sumbitch. The litterbug.
It's cuz of you I will have to speak in riddles for the rest of my blogging career. bah.
Jonell f. Method Man - Round and Round remix - "It's gonna rain, it's gonna rain..."
Jinusean - A-yo - "�ݰ��� ģ���� ���� �� �� (A-yo) / ���� ���ڰ� ���� ���� �� �� (A-yo)..."
Linkin Park - Forgotten - "From the top to the bottom / Bottom to top I stop / At the core I've forgotten / In the middle of my thoughts / Taken far from my safety / The picture is there / The memory won't escape me / But why should I care..."
