"Triggers are not only relevant to sexual misconduct, but also anything that may cause trauma. Be aware of racism, classism, sexism, heteroism, cissexism, ableism, and other issues of privilege and oppression…” (an excerpt from a draft circulated by students at Oberlin College, requesting professors to place trigger warnings in their syllabuses.)
I was so enraged, reading this front page article in The Times on Sunday, I was shaking. Who do these kids think they are? Do they THINK, at all? The tyranny of it. The ignorance. I mean, what the fuck is the point of education if it isn’t to trigger, to provoke, to incite…. Emotions, argument, debate, uncertainty?
Life is not like driving with air bags. It hurts. And there’s very little to cushion the blows. Life is about intolerance and pain and very ugly truths. Of course, it is also about joy and courage and love and change. And this is what a great education prepares you for. Life. So stop reducing it to endless ‘ism’s’ and get out there and LIVE it!
Mesmerized by the elevator footage. And ashamed of myself. Thinking what a hideous life it must be, to live in the public eye. Particularly these days when we have all become that EYE; when the whole concept of privacy seems to have mutated/morphed into this strange new ‘culture’ of sharing. Is there anything left we don’t share? Photos, playlists, apps, sexual orientations, office space, secrets, opinions/feelings about food, teachers, movies, books, lovers. I mean, what incredible irony. We who so loathe the idea/the reality of government surveillance; of security cameras tracking our every move. I hated myself, every time I clicked replay at TMZ, yesterday. I did. I felt like an emotional rubbernecker. But sometimes, i fear that this is what the culture of sharing has created—a world of emotional rubberneckers.
Like Benjamin fucking Button. Becoming an ‘actress’ and dreaming of getting a job as a waitress. (That was on Wednesday nite.) I’ve chosen a profession that is not only guaranteed to make less money than writing but that also promises a future full of even more rejections. How perfect is THAT in terms of planning?
What was my inspiration for the show? Desperation. Period. There is no greater motivator than desperation. Oh. And I wanted to rock the boat. You can’t rock the boat without getting wet!
A month ago, I said I’d rather be dead than on fucking Facebook. But Jay Z&Me just got into the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Apparently, I need to be LIKED to get there. Many thanks to all. “Real” post up tomorrow!
First time since the accident and our very brief encounter. Hopefully, I will not be making an exit via ambulance. (Oh. And I’m not alone.)
The Attack- Amin Jaafan, Director. Saw it THREE times.
Prisoners- Denis Villeneuve, Director. Life is short and this was long. But who cared?
Wadja-Halifaa Al Mansour, Director. A bike, a bike. My kingdom for a bike. (the Kingdom, in this case, being Saudi Arabia)
Rush-Ron Howard, Director. Best thing Thor’s ever done!
Her-Spike Jonz, Director. Siri, eat your heart out!
Touch of Sin-Tian Zhu Ding, Director. Hardly a touch.
The Spectacular Now-James Ponsoldt, Director. Can’t remember a thing about it except the fact I actually remember it. Which means it must have been good!
Byzantium-Neil Jordan, Director. I thought this was the most beautiful Irish town I’d ever seen in a vampire movie. Till I discovered it was a British town called Hastings.
Captain Phillips- Paul Greengrass, Director. My third pirate movie this year. And I’m not talking Johnny Depp in the Caribbean.
The Hunt- Thomas Vinterberg, Director. Shows how it is still possible to destroy/devastate a man’s reputation/life without the help of ANY social media and hardly any dialogue. Brilliant.
Dhoom 3, Oh how I adore Bollywood!
Blackfish- Ugly humans.
The Eye Must Travel- Lisa Immordino, Director. Beautiful lies.
In a World, Lake Bell, Director. Brought me back to my five years doing Star Trek action figure commercials with a feisty, very short African American voice over king named Adolf Caesar. Adolf Caesar? I mean, come on…
Philomena. Loathed the fact i sort of loved it.
The Lone Ranger. Just kidding.
Hansel and Gretel, Witch hunters. Also kidding.
LOATHED. (and/or indifferent):
The Lone Ranger. Not kidding.
Frances Ha, Ho hum. (Noah Baumbach, Director.)
American Hustle- David O Russell, Director. Call it in/anime-zero momentum, not even their hair moved. (well, except maybe for the mane on Jennifer Lawrence’s head. Which is now history.)
Gravity- Alfonso Cuaron, Director. My favorite part of the movie was after when a journalist in Spain asked the director if it was hard to shoot in outer space.
Blue Jasmine, Woody Allen, Director. Oh God, where did my Woody go? He’s harder to find than Waldo these days. Sometimes, I wish he’d just stayed home and skipped the therapy.
LOVED AND LOATHED
The Wolf of Wall St. Martin Scorsese, Director. Loved the first 60 minutes. Left the theater at 90 minutes.
Mandela. Sorry. I am NUTS about Idris. But the movie was flat.
Elysium, Neill Blomkamp, Director. Went only because I was crazy about District 9. Which reminded me of the French sleeper, B 13. Which I’ve now seen three times.
La Grande Belleza, Paolo Sorrentino, Director. Loved his Il Divo. This one, a failed homage to both Alberto Moravia and Fellini, meanders through Rome for over two hours and should be cut up and repurposed as a short film for the Italian Tourist Board.
Books I loved so much I bought multiple copies:
Submergence. J.M. Ledgard. Another sleeper. The only magazine awake enough to rave about it was Vulture/New York. That review then spawned copy cats at The Times and elsewhere.
A Pimp’s Notes, Giorgio Faletti. Fantastic Italian noir.
All the Dead Yale Men, Craig Nova. Magnificent. It reminded my of a young Salter.
The Wet and the Dry, Lawrence Osbourne, Should be required reading for anyone/everyone interested in the Middle East/Islam. The man may well be drunk or hung over throughout his entire journey (A feat in itself) in Lebanon, the Emirates and Eygpt but his vision never fails. I loved this book.
Places of My Infancy, Guiseppe di Lampedusa, Marvelous, in the old-fashioned magical sense of the word. A slender, 70 page masterpiece.
Ghost Dance in Berlin, Peter Wortsman, Take me THERE!
A Tuscan Childhood, Kinta Beevor
Divergent, Veronica Roth, Recommended by a 14 year-old stranger at the Strand. Can’t WAIT for the movie!
Critical Mass, James Wolcott, May this man/critic live FOREVER!
PLACES, THINGS, PERFORMANCES I LOVED:
Gezi Park, Istanbul—June 2012
Aire, Franklin St. A subterrean hide away and paradise of hot and cold plunge pools, steam, and rainforest showers. All dug deep into the bowels beneath Tribeca.
Upright Citizens Brigade-Friday’s at 10 for the improv genius of The Law Firm.
Lady Rizzo at Joe’s Pub, anytime, all the time. A grand, very grand and sexy diva
Storyboard P (see previous posts!) There’s a somewhat lackluster portrait of him in the New Yorker this week.
TJ&Dave at the Barrow St. Theater. ALWAYS go there.
Pedrito Martinez at Guantanamera, Finally, on the cusp of fame. So get there now before he’s gone to bigger, not necessarily, better places.
Jon Baptiste at The Bowery Ballroom. The man is HUGE now but as brilliant as ever! Here he is in Paris: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8_rATPi04o
Trombone Shorty anywhere you can find him.
James Jackson, Jr. A charming, truly gifted cabaret performer unknown to all but those who stalk him at Duane Park on the Bowery.
Hi,Hitler, Written&Performed by Lucie Pohl at Stage Left Studio. Forget Midler, Sandra Bernhard, and the interminably dull work of Mike Daisy, the young Pohl is the reason why one man/woman shows are about to take over the world!
Jay Z&Me: Yes, me. Heading for Edinburgh Fringe? Or Eddie’s Bar on Avenue A. Soon.
Will add to this as thoughts occur to me. And thanks to whomever is left out there, still reading/skimming. Happy New Year!