Guidone.

November 22, 2013

fellini-8.5-glasses-hate-coatI’m having a Guido crisis.

Not in the fighting of swarms from my harem of hot babes way, though, that too has been going on. More in the, I don’t know what I want to say and we haven’t yet gotten to the part where everyone’s peachy keen with that and decides to dance around a spaceship with musical clowns way.

If you haven’t seen Otto é Mezzo (8 1/2) I recommend it highly. I have this strong belief that everyone has had a major Guido crisis at least once in their lives. To be clear, Marcello Mastroianni plays Guido, a moderately successful filmmaker who just has throngs of money thrown at him for his next picture– which he can’t decide what to do with. Rather, he doesn’t know what he wants to say.

The movie follows his decision making process of figuring out what it is he wants to say, but in the end he never figures it out. I want to say something trite like “OMG, SPOILERZZZZ” but in all honesty, knowing that piece of the ending shouldn’t deter you from at least trying to watch the film. It’s a fascinating tale about this guy, who essentially ruins everything good in his life trying to figure out what to do next. You know, as opposed to being a grownup and admitting he’s not really sure. It’s really dreamy, and even if you’re not really into Fellini’s other works, you should try and see this. If only for the snobby street cred you’ll get after the fact.

Lately I’ve been having what I refer to as a Guido crisis. I’m not trying to say anything meaningful, or even anything with a particular je ne sais quoi. I’m not bubbling with inexpressible energies, or trying to make sense of some inexplicable internal knots. All I can surmise right now, is that I want beds. I want them to be from a hospital, and I want them to be vintage.

I figured drawing these beds would somehow placate this emptiness in my bones. I was wrong. If I go around drawing beds, the only thing that happens is that I get better at drawing beds. Sometimes when I’m writing things, I just feel relieved of whatever I was trying to get out of my system. Something that had been building up gets depressurized, and I’m able to calm down a bit. (Physiologically speaking.) Right now I’m having a desire to consume a certain kind of media, instead of making it. (Because making it allows you to be inherently intimate with its flaws, or disregard them entirely, and its bananas blahblahblahhhhhh.)

Right now I suppose I’m too beat to design the box to think out of, or to search for the proper box in which to build upon. Or I should say, I’m not sure which preexisting elements I’d like to bring together to create a new box which I could either use like a dollhouse by rearranging everything, or just use as a box think out of.

And all I’ve got is beds.

I have nothing that makes me feel bursting at the seems, which on the one hand is pleasant, but on the other hand I feel insatiable. Just in that I’m so used to being able to have a high output of ideas that interest me, that when I don’t it just feels weird. Strangely enough, movement has been able to satisfy some of my creative output lately, but I’ve not been feeling well enough to keep going to my dance classes the last few weeks.

I guess the strange thing for me is that I don’t have anything within the vast range of emotional switchboarding that I’m trying to make accessible to others, or to compartmentalize for myself.

It’s odd!

I wish I were at that point where everyone’s dancing around the spaceship, happy that Guido can finally admit he has no idea what he wants to say. I’m afraid I’m still in the daydreaming point of his journey.

But who knows…Maybe my next thing will be “How Saraghina Got Her Groove Back”?

8etdemi 26

I guess we’ll have to see.

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Superfluous Quandaries.

November 21, 2013

Today as I was walking to my mom’s house to pick up her car for work, I had a thought.

If I could spend the day/afternoon/whatever with any musician, who would it be? 

I internally parceled through a small list of contingencies, like would this person have to be alive, what sorts of things would be appropriate to talk about, and where we’d possibly want to hang. (The last of course, differed with each musician.)

My mind immediately erased certain possibilities (Joni Mitchell, for one) because of all I’ve read of her/others I’d thought about, we seem to have little in common. That became a sticking point, I wanted to hang with them as people  not just musicians. I kept trying to avoid grooves in the sidewalk with my feet, while concentrating heavily on this question.

Who -would- I like to hang out with?

The obvious answer for me at least, is Janis Siegel. (Because she’s my favorite singer, and she’s totally rad!) But the more I got to think about what I wanted out of this potential encounter, the more I thought it would be fun to hang out with someone like Bobby McFerrin. I would honestly just let him talk at me about music theory. It would be simply divine. Laurel Massé also came to mind, just because I love how she writes about religion. I would love to have a conversation with her about her favorite bible verses, and get her perspective on living thoughtfully.

Before I came to the conclusion that I’d prefer if this person (or persons) were still alive, I thought about asking Carmen McRae how she came to approach phrasing in such an innovative way. Which, afterwards I realized would be a hard question to even answer, so I rephrased it in my brain as a question that’s more like, “what gets you excited? What makes you want to sing?”

I also just thought about unwindulaxing with Liza Minnelli. How rad would that be? I’d love to just hear her talk about how she’s able to infuse her life with such positivity. Her optimism tickles me pink. Or, if we’re going to wander down that road: how about Bette Midler? I feel like because her twitter is bloody hilarious, I’d probably require some sort of adult diaper just to be safe.

I thought about Cher, or Bernadette Peters; I thought about musicians I’d like to meet just so I could punch them in the face(Jimmy Buffet& Taylor Swift); powerhouses of the early 2000’s to now (Beyoncé, Rhianna); but I couldn’t really come up with a good answer.

It was certainly a nice way to occupy my walk, but after awhile it started to majorly stress me out! I still don’t know who I’d like to choose!

What about you? If you could hang out with any living musician for a day, who would it be?

Dudies.

November 13, 2013

I’m trying to sit through Minority Report right now and it’s testing my patience in a serious way. After spending an inordinate amount of money studying writing at film school, all I can do is cringe because of what a shitstorm this movie is.

Can I just….. the budget for this movie was 100 million dollars. A LOT OF PEOPLE GAVE SPIELBERG 100. MILLION. DOLLARS. TO MAKE. THIS MOVIE.

Theoretically, and I know it’s difficult, you’re supposed to set up the rules of the universe of a sci-fi movie before the end of the first act. We’re also supposed to care about the main character a little bit. You know, figure out what their shit is about. Figure out why we’re waisting, (in my case) 2.5 hours on their journeys. I don’t give two shits about Tom Cruise, or his dead son, or his sad George Jetson dystopian life.

It’s mildly dreamy, and the idea of personalized advertising through reading someone’s eyeballs is interesting– but not interesting enough for me to care about it. I was so through with everything by the first five minutes that I almost turned the movie off. If my director weren’t such an awesome dude, I totally would have.

It struck me after I became fed up with every conceivable law of physics that was presented being immediately broken, that Minority Report is a dudie. A movie for dudes. What other kind of movie would have two dudes beating the shit out of each other, mano a mano on a fucking luxury car assembly line?

I don’t care about babes being submerged in water, actually, strike that….

BUT THIS STORY IS FUCKING BANANAS. AND NOT IN THAT INFURIATING INTERNET HYPERBOLE WAY. I HATE IT.  It’s ridiculous.

The fact that everyone in that movie is making more money than me, us, a lot of people.

AND THEY HAVE THE FUCKING AUDACITY TO USE BILLIE HOLIDAY’S SOLITUDE? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? SHIT ON ONE OF THE BEST JAZZ SONGS IN FUCKING HISTORY?

SERIOUSLY?

I…..am sorry for all of this ranting.

Perhaps if you’re a dude from the ages of 12-30 you enjoy this movie, I’m happy it exists for you, but I am beyond irritated.