Author: fifteenkey (Page 95 of 95)

Other than watching the local sports teams occasionally, and the O’Reilly Factor more regularly, television isn’t too appealing. Exploitation and humiliation aren’t interesting to me, unless of course it’s of George Costanza, and that will hopefully be available forever in syndication. I met the short, beady-eyed actor once in an elevator at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas. He said he was “up for once” in the casino and went on his way. Like “the Meathead,” “Hawkeye Pierce,” and “Andy Sippowitz,” some actors achieve immortality through one character. Jason Alexander is forever “George.”

I’ve always been a fan of Denis Leary and his acerbic, biting comedy. It turns out he’s also a very good actor. In Rescue Me on FX, Leary plays Tommy Gavin, a New York City firefighter who battles inner demons that rage more furiously than the flames he’s paid to quell. Recently, I caught the last two episodes of season one late night after being woken by my own unsettled psyche. Rescue Me was on opposite much of the baseball playoffs, so unfortunately it was missed first time around. The writing is smart and sharp, and delivered at a snappy pace by a gritty cast.

In one of the most powerful TV segments I’ve ever seen, Tommy comes home to find that his wife took their kids and moved out. He completely loses it and starts destroying the house with a bat, all while “Fell On Bad Days” by Rubyhorse blares on the soundtrack. The scene fades out with Tommy standing in the middle of the destroyed living room, throwing back a bottle of vodka like it was cold water after a long firefight. The Season One DVD comes out in August.

…that’s where the answers have gone.” Those words were written and sung by Jay Farrar with his band Son Volt. At times in life, answers seem completely elusive, like true love, common courtesy and “the integrity of the game.” When it comes to matters of the heart, the search is further clouded by love or hate, fear, protective detachment, or a flesh and blood sense of responsibility. Accepting the fact there are sometimes no right answers, the decision making process is often comprised of asking and answering many questions. Am I enabling? Will he/she die if I don’t act? How will any decision affect others? If a serious negative affect(s) is possible or even probable, is it worth the risk? What else is being put at risk? What is my responsibility? How will any decision affect me? Is this just part of a “slow, sad end?”

Pain and pleasure. Shoveling snow and it’s a bright, sunny day, leaving no doubt that baseballs and golf balls will soon replace the snow filling our sky. During the evening of the storm, I snapped a few pictures, not knowing if the light would be sufficient. It was a quiet and beautiful scene. Once downloaded, I played around a bit with Microsoft Photo Editor to see if I could clean them up a bit. The color photo is raw, not altered at all, yet it seems to depict warmth on what was a cold winter night.

In contrast, this photo was “balanced” using the Autobalance feature, and then converted to monochrome. It appears cold, barren and lifeless.

We see the world through our own lenses. Even clear lenses can sometimes become foggy, unbalanced, or even splattered with rain. Experience helps us know when to clean the lens. Emotions can completely obscure the view or blur our perception to seeing things that aren’t really there. In that case, it’s good to have a friend with the patience help you see by wiping your lens clean.

After a trip to the big city two weeks ago, a Manhattan hangover still lingers. Following the remedy of “the hair of the dog that bit me,” I rented “Manhattan” (1979).

The colorless imagery captures the glory of the city from countless perspectives: the art museums, restaurants, city streets, Central Park at night from a horse drawn carriage, and the magnificent skyline. The signature image is the bridge shot, a scene that captures moments of intimacy just before dawn. Dwarfing the cinematography is the script. “Manhattan” was nominated for a best screenplay Oscar in 1980, and has one great Woody Allen one-liner after another. After he quits his job as a TV writer, Isaac (Woody Allen) describes his financial plight. One of my favorite lines occurs in a scene where Isaac and Mary (Diane Keaton) are strolling at night getting to know each other after an art opening. After Isaac tells Mary his ex-wife left him for another woman, she asks if he has any children.

Isaac – “Yeah, I have a kid. He’s being raised by two women.”
Mary – “Two mothers are absolutely fine.”
Isaac – “I always feel very few people survive one mother.”

Toward the end of the film, Isaac is laying on a couch dictating writing ideas…

“Why is life worth living? It’s a very good question. Um…Well, There are certain things I guess that make it worthwhile. uh…Like what… okay…um…For me, uh… ooh… I would say … what, Groucho Marx, to name one thing… uh…um… and Willie Mays… and um … the 2nd movement of the Jupiter Symphony … and um… Louis Armstrong, recording of Potato Head Blues … um … Swedish movies, naturally … Sentimental Education by Flaubert … uh… Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra … um … those incredible Apples and Pears by Cezanne… uh…the crabs at Sam Wo’s… uh… Tracy‘s face …”

What makes your life worth living?

This space was created after having great fun writing on my friend Jeff’s blog. He’s a gifted writer, he’s funny, and he’s quite insane. The combination makes for a very entertaining read. About a week ago, his site received a makeover and is now sporting an exquisite polka-dot motif, Jeff’s adoring homage to an icon of design.

The new look has me doing some heavy thinking about the polka-dot. What are the origins of the polka-dot? Did God create the polka-dot, or did they evolve as descendants of the square after millions of years of perfecting evolution? Some questions will remain unanswered.

Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, has a small mention of the polka-dot, but it doesn’t contain much on what can only be a rich and glorious history.

The polka-dot was thought to be extinct until sightings in London’s Carnaby Street neighborhood in the 60’s. The spot was the home of mod fashion, and the place where Bob Dylan likely began his abuse of the polka-dot after 1965.

In recent history, the polka-dot has become more used and exploited than ever. On ebay there are page after page of items that would be considered worthless kitsch except for one thing: They’re sporting the polka-dot.

Yeah, just slap some polka-dots on it and sell it. It sickens me. People protect the rain forests, but no one rises to defend the polka-dot. Thanks Jeff.

Lou Reed’s Rock n’ Roll Animal is one of my favorite live records of all time. “Heroin” is the second song and actually was on the Velvet Undergrounds first record, recorded in 1966. Turns out a couple chords even opened a TV commercial for the Nissan Xterra in 2003… Hey, heroin has come a long way.

I remember back when I was 7 or 8 at my grandmothers triple-decker in East Boston. Uncle Mitch was cool. He had a drum kit and all the Beatles records. He also had Jimi Hendrix records and a heroin addiction to match. Heroin killed Uncle Mitch and it’s now killing two other members of my family. One of them left a treatment center yesterday after over 90 days of sobriety. I guess she couldn’t fight the craving any longer. That decision, combined with many other bad ones before it, will now likely result in her losing her young children. How can anyone choose a drug over their own children?

Well I guess I just don’t know.

Surfing yesterday afternoon, Buena Vista Social Club looked interesting in the channel guide, but instead the Independent Film Channel was just finishing up a rebroadcast of the Indie Spirit Awards, a show “recognizing the achievements of independent filmmakers and promoting independent film to a wider audience.” So says their website. Anyway, the show had gone long. Go figure. One of the reasons it went long was the incredibly annoying Robin Williams. Of course he’s way too big of a star to just come on the stage and present the “Best Feature” award. He has to do his manic, stream of consciousness schtick for five minutes, including making fun of some woman in the front row for her hair and face. Hey, that’s some funny and original stuff, Robin. Then he announces the nominated films with little voices to remind everyone that the films are really just props for Robin to mock. Finally, just when we think his convulsions are over, he continues to carry on while the winner is trying to speak. Rude and annoying.

What do we remember about movies? Some very good movies are visually stunning, others packed with action or suspense, but what sets some apart as great? It’s the story. The words. The lines… Great screenplays engage our intellect, tug at our emotions and pull us into the story. When they’re over, they keep us thinking about them. Two from 2004 I’m still thinking about just won Best Screenplay Oscars. If you haven’t seen them, check out:

Best Original Screenplay
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Screenplay by Charlie Kaufman

The entire script is on the writers website, but here’s a sample:

Best Adapted Screenplay
Sideways, Screenplay by Alexander Payne & Jim Taylor

Here’s a scene from Sideways:

Miles Raymond: Well, the world doesn’t give a shit what I have to say. I’m not necessary. Had. I’m so insignificant I can’t even kill myself.
Jack: Miles, what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Miles Raymond: Come on, man. You know. Hemingway, Sexton, Plath, Woolf. You can’t kill yourself before you’re even published.
Jack: What about the guy who wrote “Confederacy of Dunces”? He killed himself before he was published. Look how famous he is.
Miles Raymond: Thanks.
Jack: Just don’t give up, alright? You’re gonna make it.
Miles Raymond: Half my life is over and I have nothing to show for it. Nothing. I’ma thumbprint on the window of a skyscraper. I’m a smudge of excrement on a tissue surging out to sea with a million tons of raw sewage.
Jack: See? Right there. Just what you just said. That is beautiful. ‘A smudge of excrement… surging out to sea.’
Miles Raymond: Yeah.
Jack: I could never write that.
Miles Raymond: Neither could I, actually. I think it’s Bukowsky.

So I wonder, during a NYC weekend that included the Gates and Strawberry Fields in Central Park, the Museum of Natural History, dinner at Sparks Steak House and The Lion King on Broadway, how come shopping was the highlight of the trip for Megan? So I asked. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Hey, you love watching football. Explain that.”

The Gates were worth seeing in person, but my overall impression is Central Park didn’t need them to provide a lifting of spirits. Its complexion needs no makeup. Still, based on the many bright faces contrasting rosy cheeks with waving saffron, the Gates did just that. Or maybe they just helped New Yorkers to not think about the Yankees… Of course there were many booths set up hawking Gates memorabilia including numbered conceptual drawings of the Gates by Christo. As art, I think the drawings are more aesthetically pleasing than the gates were themselves.

What is art, anyway?

At the Whitney Museum of American Art, that question jumped at me from a series of crayon scribbles by Cy Twombley. On the other hand, the boundless creativity of Tim Hutchinson astonished me. Drawings, paintings, sculptures from old tires, mechanical contraptions amplifying the work… See it if you can. There was also a stunning video art exhibit by Bill Viola called Five Angels for the Millennium. In a darkened room, five screens flicker with images of shrouded human forms entering and exiting water, backwards and forwards, in ultra slow motion. The Whitney web site reads, “Viola creates projective narrative environments that explore the nature and consciousness and universal human experiences such as birth and death. The artist’s subject matter is rooted in the history of Western and Eastern art, as well as in such spiritual traditions as Sufism and Zen Buddhism.” I felt the irony of the exhibit crushing my very soul, for Megan had earlier bought a little Buddha statue from a street vendor. He wanted $15. He got $11. It was probably manufactured in China for 14 cents.

Megan Elizabeth Daley was 16 today. Now Meggie and fifteenkey.com share a birthday. To celebrate, we spent the weekend in New York City with her brother Kyle and best pal Mallory. I really wanted it to be special and luck (or clean living) brought theatre tickets to us a mere 6 days before the show. Now Megan didn’t seem too thrilled at the news we were going to see “The Lion King.” She perceived it as a little kids show. Still, when 8:00 Saturday night arrived, she seemed pretty excited to be there. When they drew the curtain arount 8:05, the lights, colors, sounds and graceful movement immersed us in “The Circle of Life.” I glanced to my right and saw three young faces sharing the same look: awe and joy.

Happy Birthday Meggie.