August 30, 2005

The Un-blog

I am overwhelmed with lassitude and unblogginess today. I can't seem to get excited about writing about any of the things I thought interesting today. So, instead, I choose to meander. You are welcome to tag along, if you wish, but only if you would wear a scooby-doo band aid to work. I require that you be prepared to exhibit that level of not taking yourself too seriously today to go any farther. Ok?

*First, the text of a movie review from the NY Times today:

Another neglected Eurotrash classic resurrected - in an extremely good print - by Mondo Macabro DVD, "Girl Slaves of Morgana Le Fay" is a 1971 French softcore sex and horror film that might have been directed by Jacques Rivette and written by Jean Cocteau. Obliquely based on the legend of King Arthur's half-sister, the sorceress, the picture takes place almost entirely within a remote chateau, where Morgana (Dominique Delpierre), employs her ancient wiles to recruit a young tourist (Mireille Saunin) into the ranks of her female love slaves, all gifted with immortality. To keep things lively, Morgana's court also includes a psychotic dwarf (Alfred Baillou) with an excessive fondness for eyeliner and a lust for revenge.

Despite the ultra low budget, and the apparent inability of the cameraman to create a single atmospheric shot, the film - the first to be directed by Bruno Gantillon - develops a real sense of mystery and fantasy, chiefly through a theatrical stylization of movement and dialogue (choral forms predominate) that casts a spell not unlike Mr. Rivette's celebrated "Céline and Julie Go Boating," which "Morgana" predates by three years. A genuine curiosity, presented here with appropriate respect and illuminating supplementary material, including Mr. Gantillon's short film "An Artistic Couple." $19.95. Not rated.

As one of my co-workers astutely points out: lesbian love slaves and dwarves, how can you go wrong? Indeed.

And how cool a job does the reviewer have, huh?

*Second, it seems like summer is slipping away, taking with it half memories and full truths of summers past: sticking to the faux-leather seats in my dad's Oldsmobile, cooled only by the breeze from the windows; sand in places sand should not comfortably be; smelling like sun tan oil; eating anything by the sea because it is a truism that food consumed next to salt water simply tastes better; children kissed golden brown by the sun; the Girl Child demonstrating the cannon ball; the Girl Child learning how to swim and throwing herself into the big kids' pool, totally without any fear, to demonstrate her new skills; the Boy Child throwing up his hand and yelling "MEG!" (pronounced "my") when asked who was going to the Kiddy Pool or to the "Beak" (his word for beach); the feeling that your whole life still stretches in front of you as the days become longer and the sunlight keeps coming, long into the evening; the sailboats tacking back and forth as they race on the Sound, looking sleek and purposeful; the explosion of the fried clam belly in your mouth with all of its richness, so powerful as to almost be too much, although you finish the whole order anyway; the taste of that cold, cold beer that somehow never tastes the same, never seems quite so necessary in February; summer's happiest tomatoes (need I say more?); and, finally, the bittersweet realization that the beach toys are soon to be packed away, the life guards gone back to school, and the days grown shorter, until all I have left are these thoughts.

*I don't really get the whole Cindy Sheehan thing. At first, I have to say, I thought it just fine that she wanted to meet with the President, sort of in the grand tradition of common citizens meeting with Lincoln at the height of the Civil War. But now, I have come to think her a lightning rod for fools, a rallying point for the wacky left and the ugly right, a place where people who hate America can come together and find common ground. It never ceases to amaze me how much the extreme left and the extreme right have in common. I just wish David Duke and Al Sharpton had been visiting Ms. Sheehan on the same day. That would have been gorgeous to see. Either way, we contain multitudes, this nation of ours. Welcome to the tumult.

*I wonder, sometimes, about why I continue to blog. I don’t have an answer. Until I come up with one, I will, like the milkman’s horse, keep coming back here almost every day and continue to write. Do you know which post of mine takes the most comments? Easily, without comparison, its the one on Welsh hip hop. Click on the category page for that topic and marvel at how alive that music scene is.

*My Gmail seems to be down. Thank goodness. Jim and I have been torturing each other with School House Rock songs, throwing snatches of lyrics at each other. With my email down, that gives me last word.

Posted by Random Penseur at August 30, 2005 03:42 PM | TrackBack

It's funny, my blog-break has me all charged up about blogging again. I have too many blogs in my head to blog, actually! *laughs*

But don't take a blog-vacation because I couldn't bear it. :-(

Posted by: Amber at August 30, 2005 06:11 PM

It's just Beal. Take two cocktails and call me in the morning.

Blawg when/where/what you want. We'll leave the light on.

Posted by: Margi at August 31, 2005 03:33 AM

Funny about the Schoolhouse Rock. Yesterday I stumbled on a clip from the old animated hankerin' for a hunk of cheese commercials from my childhood and can't get that tune out of my head...

Posted by: Jennifer at August 31, 2005 10:57 AM

Jennifer, Hanker for a Hunk of Cheese is one of my favorites.

Along with:

If you'd like to console me I'd love a big hug
If you want to reward me a kiss would be great
Oh I don't need a cookie to make me feel better
Cause love can work wonders without adding weight!

Posted by: Helen at August 31, 2005 11:31 AM

I think a blog is mostly a journal, with a bit of chat room mixed in. There have always been good reasons to keep journals. Blogs just make them accessible to everyone immediately.

Once in a while I feel like quitting (and once, a year ago, I did). But when I go back into the archives I find old stuff I'm glad I wrote, saved a few memories, like old snapshots you find in a box in the closet. It's not great art, but it's meaningful to me, and those who are near and dear. And it's so cheering to get comments too, the immediate feedback, "yes, that happened to me," or "I know what you mean," and the enrichment you get from other people's views and experiences.

We humans have such a drive to express ourselves, and those of us who lean toward the written word as our means of expression are lucky to be living during this blog explosion, I think.

I enjoy reading you, RP!

Posted by: Amy at August 31, 2005 05:38 PM
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