stars and cars and barmen

There's been something sort of magical about the crappy built in flash on my canon rebel recently-- maybe november's making me want details glossed over into a blinding pale, maybe I like catching people's squinty faces when I hit them with it in the dark bar.

I think my aesthetic sense is disintegrating. This is an important factor to weigh, considering the dslr is now five years old, has already had one serious emergency room visit, and I have "graduation presents"/fourth quarter opportunities to potentially upgrade/accessorize for the camera. the old girl's pretty beat up for a five year old, and I find that the photos I've been taking digitally are vastly inferior to film shots.

Maybe instead of buying myself a better flash/nicer prime lens to replace the mini-zoom (training wheel lens) that came with the camera, I should spend $$ on a photo class and actually learn how to move beyond mediocre.

Regardless, I love this girl and her broken glass (first of two, maybe three, that fell victim to the high spirits of last night.)

more mayakovsky

The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.

It may be the coldest day of
the year, what does he think of
that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.

meggieversaire 2008

man, being in your midtwenties BLOWS.

Metonymy because SYNECDOCHE IS STUPID

Sometimes I see movies and I get a little incensed, and then it takes the L train 20 minutes to show up to Union square, and I'm alone, and when I'm alone and bored and incensed I write myself long emails about what I did and didn't like about the stupid movie on my phone.

this is one of those times. All phone autocorrects and half thoughts preserved for posterity.

Alright, Charlie Kaufman. We get it. You are a brilliant brilliant man and your first foray into both directing and writing a film should be nothing short of the second coming of Christ, or at least close to mad men in terms of sheer ineffability. Forgive me, I am tired, as I just sat through your opus, all six hours of it, and I have to say, I am impressed. Somehow, you figured out a way to make me hate phillip Seymour Hoffman. I thought it couldn't be done.

Sparkly moments- emma watson playing samantha Morton, the house on fire, adele's paintings, olive's tattoos. I wasn't much impressed with the cinematography, but the production design was impressive, the make up effects were well rendered and not, in my opinion, excessive.

Bit this film is just pretentious. It's everything I hate about Williamsburg- superiority complex plus substance equals giant minus of sincerity. I get it, ck. I know the definition of synecdoche, I see how you implemented it (and how!) I understand your film but I still think it is arrogant of you to make it. Its a good chuckle at the expense of the. Everyman. That's not to say I think films should pander to the lowest common denominator. But rein it the fuck in, ck. I am a well educated woman, I know my film theory, I know my literary devices. I GET it. And my first reaction was still a big fuck you.
If you wanted to create a work, which was clearly a labor of love on your part, that smugly disregards it's viewer after the first ten minutes, then you have succeeded (and how!) but I didn't appreciate it. I don't like reacting so negatively to anyone's work, especially someone I respect. But I am appalled and I want my twelve dollars back.
Sincerely, Cmae

Sent from my iPhone

I will edit this in the morning when I'm more coherent. But I will say, i am fucking PUMPED to see The Wrestler, especially since the trailer uses a baller springsteen song.

Now I am quietly waiting
for the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.

--


And no one will tell you this, but you can’t be a man. Don’t even try. Be a woman. It's powerful business when done correctly. Do you understand what I’m saying, dear?