MOVIE: "Molokai: The Story of Father Damien"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Share |

Mutant Reviews From Hell, a website, cites a telling discrepancy between history and this film: Damien had no conviction, on his death bed, that he had done enough to enter heaven. Kind of blows your mind, doesn't it? While Mutant thinks this a minor historical dissonance, I think it is fundamental: Damien was a person; now he is a saint. Any rumors of inappropriate activities, any qualms about his possible lack of humility, ANY character faults of the poor dude are buried in bells and smells, as the church gilds his story, just like all the others. Want to become radicalized? Work with the people who need it most; everybody will hate you and tell you to your face to be more considerate of other people. So, no, I did not enjoy the magical thinking, sanctifying of a regular guy with a back breaking job, to boot. Now, I watched this film because I love Hawaii. I love Hawaiians. You know: the inconvenient ones, who want to save their ecosystem from environmental degradation? Who want to be a sovereign nation again? Who want the OLD traditions of Hula, not the cheap tourist entertainment? You know, the grouchy, real Hawaiians? Well, none of them really appear in this film. They are MENTIONED. They have one or two minor scenes. I happen to think that, if a group of exiles is capable of organizing prostitution, theft and black market rings in the colony, they are probably not all a bunch of passive, brown sheep: heads lowered, whimpering, singing three part harmony in the background. I think their story would be very interesting. Nope. Hot here. This is the story of white, European and US people, how important they were, how clever they are, how educated and articulate they can be. No Hawaiians were ever in danger of spraining a jaw from speaking too much, let alone too honestly, in this film. I hated it. Hawaiians, please produce some juicy, indy stuff and get it on NutFlux. I like pagans a whole lot better than  saints.

MOVIE: "Mary & Max"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Share |

I keep seeing superficial reviews, calling this movie strange. This is about regular humans, in a regular friendship, living individual lives, struggling to understand what it is, exactly, the Universe wants of them and why it will not drop any hints. Attention to detail is meticulous: it is one of the best furnished claymation films I have ever seen. The musical choices were sophisticated; sometimes, I laughed out loud at the compositions chosen for various scenes. This is one of the best portrayals of the rights of people with behavioral health challenges I have ever seen: we do not need to change to make others comfortable; we just need to love ourselves. Que Sera Sera tore a hole in me; I have been where she was and survived. The depictions of genuine emotions was stunning, considering it is clay. This is NOT a depressing film! Exactly the opposite: this film is filled with celebrations of life! The end was magnificent. Mary and Max were SO lucky to have found and befriended each other! I only have two friends in the whole world; my own behavioral health challenges provoke hate, fear and mockery in sheeple. I am sending them this film to thank them for sticking by me through a lifetime of chocolate hot dogs and ancient roosters. To the rest of you for whom superficial, easy attachments are normal: I feel sorry for you. We who are confused by your world know the true value of love and dignity, on the most profound levels. I wish I could just live in that world. As the movie began to wind down, I looked at my timer counter and reaized: I am really going to miss this place.

My favorite scene, Que Sera Sera

COMEDY: "Jake Johannsen, I Love You!"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Share |

People laugh for the same reason dogs bark: when they are confronted by the truth (I am parphrasing Lily Tomlin there). NOBODY gets injured in this routine, unless you count the comedian but not really him, either., Well, when his daughter reaches adolescence, if she finds out some of the stories he told, she may either run away from home, get into therapy, join a cult or kill him in his sleep. See, this is not standard self deprication: I am a jackass, or pathetic, or unconventional and you should laugh at that. He is not insulting himself so much as exposing himself. It takes healthy self confidence, humility and just the right amount of self love to be so exposed to a room full of strangers. All of us may not go through exactly what he describes, but we know, in our intimate, secret selves, that these kinds of uncomfortable self revelations happen; we usually just try to forget about them. He makes a routine about them. I laughed at some of this until I was squeezing out tears. This is an ordinary guy, trying to understand what in the heck is expected of him: too intelligent to just blindly obey and too timid to revolt. There is a slight tremor in his voice that is endearing. He looks and dresses like any guy on the bus. Nothing about him is especially attractive or interesting. But when he opens his mouth, and his mind comes pouring out, all I could do was smile, wide eyed at how clearly and lovingly he ponders reality. I am telling all my friends. I feel better about myself and the world, having watched this. It is not life changing, just life enhancing.

Jesus rides

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Share |

A guy picked me up, hitch hiking, the other day. He told me Jesus told him to pick me up. It had nothing whatsoever to do, I suppose, with the fact that I, a fat, disabled, older woman with a load of groceries was standing in the hot, desert sun with my thumb sticking out. He takes no personal responsibility for his own decisions; either God or satan tell him what to do. He can blame every aspect of his life on somebody else. I didn't reply to his Jesus comment. I did tell him a little about my life. I'm 5 miles from the nearest, small town. There's no public transpo and I have no car. Every room in my house has at least one broken window, which I've patched with bits of glass and clear silicone. I have no running water, no sewage, no heat in winter. I poo in a bucket and bury it in the yard. I have no friends or family here to help me. First few days of summer, it was over 110f in my house, as I had no air conditioning. He heard all of it and commented on none of it. If Jesus were actually directing his actions and decisions, would he not have offered to gather a few of his fellow congregants to help me make this place habitable? Not doing anything is a decision, which he can't recognize, of course. He didn't want to help me; he wanted to recruit me. He's not alone. Most people who pick me up start immediately cramming their religion down my throat. They never ask if I have a faith or show any interest in what it might be or who I am. They assume that, because I'm poor, I need to be saved. I guess God is only for the middle class. If you're poor, you're going to Hell. 

MOVIE: "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Share |

 

thought I knew this story. I first heard it in one of the first Native American history classes offered on this continent, over thirty years ago. It has been part of my concept of reality ever since. But it was theoretical and political. This film is visceral: a little boy, having his hair (and all his memories)cut for the first time: both the character he portrays AND his own hair pounded a hole in my heart. I knew Sitting Bull traveled with Bill Cody, but I never grasped that he was a roadside attraction, a tourist trap, just like the people on the road to the south rim of the Grand Canyon who now sell Mexican blankets and Chinese beads to tourists. I felt so embarrassed, so sad and SO protective of Sitting Bull as that realization dawned on me. Charles, who chooses his so called Christian name just so he can speak in class to defend his chief, tricked by his teacher into a huge slip into assimilation. The recreation of the photos of the frozen bodies in the snow. The pot of dead mice, fading to the dead child and a tear on Sitting Bull's face. It was all a genius heartfelt production from all. I just wish they had used more contemporary: white, African American AND Native music for the score. The Hollywood Philharmonic orchestrations took me out of the movie; they were melodramatic. I had to go outside and watch the sun set after I saw this, let the wind wash my mind from the images. It took a long while before I could listen to the actors' commentaries. I got little from the director's, beyond a history lesson, and turned that off rather soon. This is work. Your heart must be open but protected. Do not try to see this movie in a hury. It is a memorial; treat it with honor.

the well pump

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Share |

10am, Thur, July 8

I have about 20 2 liter soda bottles full of water in cabinets. That's it.

h2o lines burst when frozen. leave h2o at drizzle only, constantly, esp. last winter, to prevent further freezing. That's to the house. the hose spigot worked fine. Now, there is no water at all.

So, no swamp cooler for air conditioning, no bathing, no dish or clothes washing, no flushing urine (I poop in bucket & bury in back yard).

No transportation to lug heavy water home. Think there's a thirty five cent/gallon h2o dispenser at grocer in Belen, not sure.

Neighbors brought me portable heat pump/air conditoner, but it burns a LOT of electricity.

I'll have to seal off livingroom again, like I did in winter, to keep this habitable if possible.

Can't move out.

Haven't heard from landlord in 3 months; hasn't even collected rent.

I'm screwed. It's barely July.

Garden will die. damn

how to water goats?

 

4am Fri, July9

 

I'm not sure I understand what these people say they did, but they built a brumby pump for under fifty bucks. I can, too, if I can figure it out.

Rachel, I still have that little compressor of yours; it's bigger than what they used and water GUSHES out! Would only turn on when water needed. Can store in bottles. Need water for garden, and can attach hose to PVC pipe. Can build this weekend, if I can figure this out.

Here's their video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjYLPW93-EA

 

Hope I can get old pump OUT of well. Will look tomorrow.

5 am

This one has a sensor to turn off/on compressor. don't need that. but it's a pretty good schematic, if a bit TINY!

http://www.airwellpumps.com/HowDoesItWork.aspx

 

I can't find anymore online. I don't really need the balls in the one above. air bubble will drive h2o to surface and will suction more h2o for next charge.

THe couple in the vid. I sent you suggested making small holes in capped off air line.

THey make "fish stones" for aquarium aeration.  I could use that.

http://www.pet-dog-cat-supply-store.com/shop/shop_image/product/9f4b418494da85c9c4c78d885b5575f0.jpg

 

Gotta check that air compressor doesn't blow it off end of tube, though...

I can buy parts tomorrow or Saturday at a place in Belen.

Sat, July 10, noon

Guy came out and fixed my well. Couple of electrical parts were bad. Don't have a pressure switch now, so I have to run hose on full when water's on for air cond., laundry, etc. then turn off power to well. Can't let pressure build; burn up pump!

So, I'm lyin here nekkid, after hitching back from grocery store, a/c on, laundry going, all my bottles & tubs full, sprinkler running out front in my garden, letting a cat lick my toe.

Got a good deal on marked down rotisserie chickens; bought all seven @ $1.50 each, corn tortillas cheap, lots of marked down cookies, tons of marked down bananas, cheap grapes . . .  I filled my baby stroller contraption!

Gonna make chicken tacos. Weasel & I snacked on some chicken in the parking lot of the grocery while I stuck out my thumb. I gave cats & dogs a whole chicken to fight over... that was fun.

Yesterday exhausted and dehydrated me. I was overheated: headache, dizzy . . . couldn't get enough to drink.

I believe I'll take the rest of today off, except easy, light chores. I've never been so scared in my life. I can put up with burying poop, with only having water part time, with the long walk & hitch hike to get ANYTHING, with the heat, poisonous bugs, missing electricity in parts of the house, blowing sand . . . but when that well stopped working, jesus.

Of course, I immediately made a plan, so next time, I won't be so scared. I have 55 gal drums neighbors can fill. I can get drinking water from a dispenser at grocery, 5 miles from here. I planned how to keep garden alive, do laundry, etc. without running water, using pumps, etc. But that REALLY SCARED ME!

I can probably rig up some way to pump h2o up through the hole for the air cond. to keep the reservoir filled, if this happens again.

All the well and pump guys have been really nice, telling me what I need to do to keep from killing the well pump.

Winter will be very hard, if I can't put a pressure switch on before then. It costs $25, but I am not sure if I can get the old one off. Tried the other day, and couldn't get it loose.

I'm hiding in my house for as long as I can. I am to the point where I really hate going out in public or even talking on the phone.

Like the guy who gave me a ride home today: am i married, do I live alone... I just said I don't like to answer personal questions for my own safety. Fortunately, he accepted it.

Ugly Betty arrived once I had bathed and rested yesterday. The box was almost three feet square! FULL of stuff! I have beautiful, cheerful, hand made things all over the house from the show now. It was just like xmas, opening the wrappings to see what was there. I got a lot more stuff than I had thought. A lot is much better quality than I had imagined, and cuter. Everything has tags or stickers from the auction house that states it came from Ugly Betty. When I woke this morning, it was like the day after xmas. I couldn't wait to get out of bed, wander the house and see the wonderful things I got! What a treat!

There's even a weird coffee mug with a face on it, hand made, I think by a kid, marked "J. Hernandez" on the bottom. I'd love to use it, but don't know if it could stand the microwave, as I warm pre made pots of coffee, since I can't function right for several hours in the moring, plus the mug has an auction sticker on it. It comes from the kitchen of Betty's last apt. in Manhattan, season 4. My husband's name is Juan Hernandez, by coincidence.

Lots of coincidences with this lot of stuff, really. Just little things in common that make me smile.

Have gone through all Ugly Betty DVDs on Netflix, except Season 4 (final) which will be released in August, in time for my birthday.

The auction, and rewatching old Ugly Betty episodes, inspired me to go back to my old ways of dressing in interesting colors, textures, etc. with off beat accessories. I learned a lot about wardrobe from UB. It isn't just Betty, either: as the show goes on, you begin to see even the stylish people dressing in patterns, textures and colors you wouldn't think would go together, but look really sharp. My favorite is Michael Urie, who plays Gay Marc. His wardrobe gets AWESOME by the end of the show. He played Vanessa Williams' assistant. Here's a BEAUTIFUL ensemble:
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm2320406784/nm1235530

 

 

July 10, 3pm

Thanks for noticing my skill. I was always smart (not something I take credit for, but feel responsible for). But I was raised middle class female in the San Fernando Valley in the fifties & sixties. All institutions in my life expected me NOT to fend for myself; someone else would take care of me.

So, a lot of my anger as a young woman came from not being taken care of, even though I was a teen runaway, hanging out with radical Lesbian feminists, Olivia Records, the Women's Building, the Lesbian Tide, etc.

I was powered by terror and righteous indignation, mostly.

My standard of living has degenerated gradually over the years. The economy's much tighter now than it was in the seventies. And I've progressively lived more and more rural, until now I find myself in a harsh, desert frontier. I've been thinking about my neighbors' indifference to my life threatening circumstances recently. I have finally come to the realization that the influence of the Conquistadors and Patrons of New Mexico are very old world values: empathy and compassion are not practical survival skills here. It's a very predatory system of sizing others up to see if they have any value, ignoring them if they don't.

I accept it. I don't like it and I think.  No, I know it is wrong and counterproductive. But I accept it because that is how it is.

So, over my life, I have been brought down to basic survival, alone. I HAVE to apply my intelligence to resourcefulness and problem solving. NOBODY is going to help me, least of all the people in the agencies who are supposedly paid to do so.

I have been forced to put my feminism where my mouth is. If I want gourmet food, by gawd, I'd better learn to cook.

If I want a running vehicle, I'd better learn mechanics.

If I want a garden, I'd better study how.

If I want animals, I'd better know veterinary medicine.

If I am injured, I'd better know HUMAN medicine.

It is REALLY TOUGH at times. But I have learned I can trust myself. I think that is the greatest accomplishment of my life.

The way my animals feel completely secure, trusting, relaxed and happy under my care, I KNOW I could have been a good mother, partner, friend, lover, community member... if I had been wanted. I no longer blame myself for not being wanted. I don't understand all the reasons why I am so rejected, but I accept that, too.

It's been a big relief not to call myself a failure as a mother anymore, because my baby died. Did I tell you about her?

I nearly killed myself over her death, until I realized my suicide would be the only memorial to her life: rogi killed herself because her daughter died. no way. Viri DIana has not CURED my suicidal impulses, but I can no longer indulge them or flirt with them; I made a contract that I won't kill myself, for her. Her life has GOT to have had some meaning, so I am giving it THIS one.

I feel the water has evaporated from the swamp cooler, so I need to go out and turn water back on.

Thanks for noticing that I just get down to business now and solve problems, rather than wallowing in self pity, panic, pleas for rescue, pointless rage... thank you for noticing.

Time for some air up in here.

You want something from Ugly Betty? I feel like gifting a bit of it. Just a little pottery animal or something? There's a psychedelic green squirrel from Mexico that grins. It is very nice.

 

 

MOVIE: "The Only Good Indian"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Share |

I thought SCHINDLERS LIST would be the most profoundly disturbing film I would ever see. I was wrong. I will not discuss production, techniques, etc. here, except to say the music, the lighting, composition and acting were spiritual (and I do not use that word lightly nor often). US treatment of Native peoples informed Hitler and served as template for treatment of Aboriginals in Australia, Hawaii, Latin America, Africa, the entire planet. I live in New Mexico. I see the effects on Sam Franklins, nearly every day. Kevin Wilmott, director, is listed in Wiki as a Black man and Kansas native; his sensitivity to the subject seems as blood in his veins. I followed the Santa Fe trail, from Albuquerque, through Lawrence, KS. The story of this film was completely invisible to me. I know about boarding schools, but this portrayal was more poignant than RABBIT PROOF FENCE, a profound film. The asylum (which was anything but) is a chilling testament to the pathologizing of free people, which continues today with chemical, instead of iron, restraints. Forced sterilization got mention, which is rare. Native collaboration with US genocide, a tricky discussion, is here. I kept seeing the thousands of silenced stories like this one that need to be told about Native peoples. The film is clear eyed, unsentimental, without polemic or magical thinking. It is nearly documentary in storytelling. The Jews have a saying about the Holocaust: Never Again. We need a filmography, a literature and schools of all art forms that record, with such care and honesty, Manifest Destiny on the North American continent: historically, and contemporarily. The metaphor of the vampire as European invasion is honest; the church as the Castle Dracula was heart breaking.

http://www.theonlygoodindian.com/index2.html 

MOVIE: Ping Pong Playa

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Share |

You mean Charlie Chan is not Chinese? I put off watching this film because I thought Table Tennis? It is dorky, boring and embarrassing. I thought a comedy about table tennis? How lame must that be? I NEVER laugh out loud at movies. I laughed SO HARD at this one, I almost puked my soda pop, for real. I grinned from start to finish and my face hurts. You know the stereotype of the Chinese American father who is the stern patriarch, overly demanding, not listening to what his kids really want? THIS father, and the actor who plays him, is a REAL sleeper comedian! The KIDS! Oh, I would think my life was Heaven if I had even one of this clever, cute, brilliant boys doing their slapstick and one liners! The love interest is not a haughty, arrogant, conservative, disproving cardboard cut out. She is, in her subtle and dry way, a very funny straight man. And Chris? I have never seen a character quite like him! What a doofus! Yet, he is intelligent and has a good heart. The actor who plays him deserves a brilliant and long career (I think it would be funny to remake Charlie Chan movies, urban style, with him in the lead!) I do not hear hip-hop style music too well: the lyrics just go by really fast. I loved the music in this! And now, a word about editing. The juxtaposition, in a conversation, about what Chris tells his friend, against what actually happened? Oh, my GAWD! The kids' practices, the final tournament...beautiful. The tiny pocket cycle, the cereal, the vibrating cell phone that lands on his head, the Opium Wars . . . I really REALLY loved this movie! And no, it is NOT racist to point out the IGNORANT things Europeans have said about, and done to, Chinese people! We aint workin on no railroads for free, bro. PS: not Asian here, Im just sayin . . .

 

Golden Cock: ROFLMFAO!

MOVIE: "Together"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

One toy car, one record album and one game of soccer in the snow do not make up for the child abuse in this movie. Drugs, alcohol and cigarettes are lying around where kids can get them. An adult attempts to seduce a 13 year old. Children are ignored and neglected, forlorn and forgotten. Revolution is for angry men with weapons. TRANSFORMATION is when we put children first. If it is not good for children, it is not good. Period. It does not matter if you are working class, middle class or playing poverty tourist in some so called commune. If it is bad for children, it is bad. And nothing good will ever come of it. IF that is the point of the movie, it deserves four stars. I fear it is not.

MOVIE: "The Village Barbershop"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Well, Chris, that's a sweet lil flick you have there. I would have made the pimp, hookers white US citizens, to keep down suspicions of racial stereotyping. I would have left out the lisp, as Gay folks don't usually speak like that, and I've never heard a florist do it. I liked the sets, but how can she afford an Airstream? I was jealous! And your lead actress has a cosmetology license, so I would expect her to at least wash and comb her hair occasionally. I loved your sound track. I loved all the colors. The props were fun, especially the guys next door. Great love interest: not beef cake, a real guy. In fact, I liked that these are real people, not eye candy. Script was subtle, effective and poignant. I hope it's ok that I chuckled, more than laughed. I hesitate to startle my pets. The garden hose was a nice touch, and probably my favorite bit. Liked the details, like the neighbor on oxygen who smokes. I will post this review in my blog, livinginthehood dot blogspot dot com. I wish you a long and successful career. That was a lot of work and obviously a labor of love.

MOVIE: "Matinee"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Hey! Movie producers! Wanna get me off NotFlux and back in a theater? Hire Lawrence Woolsey to make it an interactive experience! Forget the boutique coffees and gourmet jelly beans! Market to the masses and zap their @$$es! That was AWESOME! It was REALLY SCARY when everything started to fall apart, too! What a spoof of B movies! I just finished watching THEM (which TERRIFIED me when I was a kid, during the same historical period as MANT). MANT is at least as cheesy! The Cuban Missile Crisis was another character in this film: ominous, foreboding, looming over childhood like a cracked balcony. I do not have memories of it; I think, out in California where I grew up, the adults decided to protect us from it. Poor Florida kids! I was terrified of my Czech neighbors, though, and had a nightmare that he would jump the fence with a dagger in his teeth and murder us all in our sleep! I remember duck and cover. I remember my Dad, who worked for Columbia Studios, who capitulated with HUAC and who thought there was a Communist under every park bench. We were all very scared then, worse than 9/11. More message movies that entertain the SNOT out of us, please, without preaching us into a coma! BRILLIANT! What a RIDE!

MOVIE: "Seducing Dr. Lewis"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

All across the world, tiny villages are dying. It is the tragedy of globalization and, more and more, climate change. People, whose ancestors founded their home towns hundreds and even thousands of years ago, can no longer survive and must evacuate to cities of low wages, indifference and exploitation. We are losing our cultures, heritage, foundation and future as a result. When the Solo Cup factory closed here, hundreds of people were reduced to shut ins, with no hope of other employment, watching television all day, eating cheap and nutritionally unhealthy foods produced on other factories, accepting food stamps and lining up at the food pantries. Because they have no money, the car dealer closed. So did the movie theater, the clothing shop, the hardware store, the green grocer and on and on. These people are not cartoons or stereotypes. The folks in this film are heroes for fighting as hard as they could to keep their lovely village, with its spectacular views of sea and sky, alive. Yes, it is in French, as clearly stated in the NF blurb. If one cannot read that, I suppose one could not read subtitles, either, even though none was over five or six simple words and none came too frequently to read, as there is not a great deal of dialogue. If people complain about having to QUOTE work END QUOTE at watching a movie, how in the name of Heaven could they possibly work to save our heritage? Me, I do not want to die of a heart attack from too many McGreaseys while aimlessly meandering imported factory junk at Wal*Fart. That is sound and fury, signifying nothing. I would rather die having fully lived, like the folks in this film.

MOVIE: "I'm Not Rappaport"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Heartbreakingly heart felt, this is a love letter to New York City, her denizens, her popular history.

I need to note the actress, Elina Löwensohn, whose small but powerful roll orator of the inspiring speech that sparked a union strike was magnified by her understated and sincere emotion. According to Wikipedia, she QUOTE was born in Bucharest, Romania. After the death of her father, a survivor of Nazi concentration camps, her mother emigrated to the United States with her, where her mother went on a hunger strike in order to get a visa for her. END QUOTE

As the camera pulls back during closing credits, from a close up of Mattheau and Davis to a helicopter shot of the entire park and the city beyond, I realized the millions of such stories that wait, lovingly carved as the stone work of Central Park bridges, for people to discover, to appreciate and to respect. In the distance, we see the Empire State Building and, farther on in faded focus, the World Trade Center. The poignancy of Walt Whitman cries out as the Internationale is sung. We come from sturdy stock, we Americans. And New York City is a nexus of our strength.

It took me quite a while before I realized this was an adaptation to a play, it was so seamlessly translated. For this, I tip my hat to the late Mr. Gardner, in addition to his intricately crafted dialogue and his artistic eye for directing. He truly loved New York.

I have always wanted to visit New York City, for her history, her landmarks, her culture, her FOOD, her people. I expect I never will, as I do not have income enough to pay five dollars a pound for any beef less than prime rib (and that was 1999 prices?!). This piece lets me see what I am missing. I am happy for those lucky enough to live there.

To Red Diaper babies everywhere: thank you for taking care of our human library of struggle, courage, humor and brutally hard work.

My one quibble: Mr. Davis is an equal to the character of Nat. I wish his character could have spoken more of his experiences in the context of New York City, rather than playing straight man to Nat. The late Mr. Davis and Ruby Dee are heroes of mine and could tell you stories that would curl Nat's hair.

MOVIE: "Starting Out in the Evening"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Warning: with all its plugged-in tweeting and face book posturing, the modern pseudo-intelligentsia is too preoccupied with the superficiality of posturing to ever produce art while barraged by marketing, demographics and the corrosive corruption of academic prestige. Those who can do. Those who cannot criticize. And the clamor of those latter voices drown the quiet contemplation of what gives life value. For, when real life intrudes into the schemes of power, glory and recognition, they turn in their keys and walk away, hungry for an easier conquest. Writers cannot find paid work, unless they write advertising copy or slanderous opinion blogs. The one sliver of genuine hope in all this is that a young man who, up until now, has cloaked himself in self righteous impatience, helps a frail man to bathe. So, there is still reason to get up tomorrow morning.

MOVIE: "Dirty Filthy Love"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Oh, it is, indeed, a comedy, and a drama. I thought about the reviews here that said this film was miscategorized and I think I know the problem. Everybody on the planet has behavioral health issues. Some of us just have them to such a degree that denial and hiding are no longer possible. The options then are: commit suicide, be a pathetic loser for the rest of your life or face that person in the mirror, learn to love her, forgive him for being human and imperfect and then take a deep breath and live life. All this somber talk about so-called mental illness, how tragic the film is and how damaged and limited these people are? That is just a smoke screen: pretending you are better than someone whose behavioral health challenges are more obvious -- often temporarily, I must add -- does not bely the fact that all of us have stuff, whether we pretend we do not or just admit it and go on. This is a FUNNY MOVIE! Ok, it over generalizes about clean freak behavior and other stuff. Heck, for all we know, everybody in that support group DID have compulsions about cleaning! It is possible. That is knit picking. Mark is not a pathetic bum who makes excuses not to participate in his own life. He has burned himself out, trying SO HARD to mask symptoms of a neurological disorder, feeling guilty and responsible for something that was never his fault, trying to deny there ever was a problem. Even when he loses everything: when everybody in his life hands him black, plastic trash bags with his stuff in them, he is STILL trying to cover up his challenges! That is a lot more exhausting than just embracing the degrees of madness we all possess, forgiving it, celebrating our creativity in living with it and learning to run along the seashore. It is a sweet and honest movie, with much attention to composition, musical score, props, costumes and atmosphere/mood. Fact is, we are ALL strange, under our masks. And is that not the funniest thing of all?

heat nearly got me today.

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Holy crap, we're having a heat wave. I THOUGHT I was hot yesterday, but today proved yesterday down right nippy. And it's supposed to be over a hundred degrees through Sunday.

That guy never fixed my swamp cooler, but at least he dropped off some pads.

Well, a young woman picked me up hitch hiking earlier this week. She cares for her mother who lives in Solomon Estates, where I live. I recently watched "Skins," filmed on the Pine Ridge Lakita reservation. Except for the fact that THEY have a lot more trees and grass, Pine Ridge sure looks a heck of a lot like Solomon Estates! Ancient single wides, rusted out cars & trucks, piles of trash & scrap lumber to burn for heat, scary dogs, cows in too-small pens, shanty shacks, piles of tires, weeds and litter along the roads.... A lot of social services types actually MOAN when I tell them I live here: Not middle class enough for their tastes, I suppose.

Anyway, the young woman dragged her fiance over tonight. They had tubing, pressure fittings and even stuff I don't really need, plus a tall ladder. He and I got the air conditioner working as she stood in the yard and hollered back and forth between us, giving instructions from one to the other.

They came back a few minutes later with this alien robot thing. It looks like a Japanese washing machine or something: large small appliance. But it comes with two weird, fat flexible hoses and a flange thing that goes in the window.... a portable air conditioner! I mean, real, REFRIGERATED AIR!

Hold on; Miss Thing's stealing my cheese. Just found out she loves cheese. Who knew?

So, my modem, computer and monitor are actually COOL TO THE TOUCH!

I have the swamp cooler on in the kitchen and the little air conditioner on 3 feet from the bed and computer stuff.

I am nude, under a fan. My skin is cool to the touch. Cats have reappeared from under the house and 2 are actually in bed with me & Weasel (dog).

I have the air's fan on low, with temp. set at 75 for the night. I'm sucking in as much cold air as I can while it's night time, to cool the walls and ceiling as much as I can. I won't run the swamp cooler tomorrow and will set this thing at eighty degrees.

It pulls juice. I flipped the breaker to the living room twice tonight, trying to set everything up. I finally ran a utility extension cord to a bedroom, to lower the drain on the circuit breaker that operates my computer.

I got really sick today from the heat. I drank tea ALL DAY, lay in bed with a spray bottle of water, under my fan, nude. Every time I came back to bed, the sheets and pillows were so warm, they felt like I'd just taken them out of a dryer! My metal bed frame was as warm as a meal. I kept shutting off modem and monitor, whenever I left the computer, but they never cooled completely.

Finally, I put my sprinkler into the end of a ten foot piece of pvc pipe, strapped it to a shelf on my front porch and sprinkled the roof and walls from 2 pm 'til about 5 pm, but things were still warm in the living room. BUt the bedrooms, where the water didn't go? EVERYTHING in them was HOT, even with windows open.

As the young woman and man worked on my swamp cooler, some guys pulled up with some ripped trampoline canvasses, two of them.

I'd made a shade cover for my stock pond/fountain from one I'd found in a dumpster. A local kid saw it and I guess he told his family, cuz he'd told me they had some, too. So, I can make more shade tomorrow for the new dogs and maybe even a cover for my front porch, which gets western sun in the afternoon and reaches temps of a hundred fifty at times, baking the wall behind my head as I lie here in bed, even with a piece of styrofoam insulation betwen my pillows and the wall!.

It finally feels good in here. My heart rate and respiration are back to normal. I feel less in danger of a nose bleed that threatened all day. I can see better and my eyes don't sting as much.

I have to remember to start eating salt. I don't like salt; grew up without it. But I'll be in bad trouble if I don't start sprinkling some on my food. Think I need some bananas and potatoes for potassium, too. I was getting chest pains today from the heat, for some weird reason.

This new air conditioner will be used to cool the living room, only. I'd put blankets up to block the hall on one side and the opening to the kitchen on the other, to try to keep it warmer in here last winter. They'll help me keep it cool in here now, without having to cool everything.

I was in BAD shape today from the heat. Now, I'm eating cheese, rye crackers and as much watermelon as I want (I've still got another uncut!). And drinking my wonderful iced tea with ginger, cardemom Earl Grey, green tea, stevia and just a dash of sugar. I could NOT hydrate enough today. It was scary.


http://rogiriverstone.com

Too Small to Fail!

MOVIE: "Ben X"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

Have I missed something with ASD (autism spectrum disorder)? I am not familiar with delusions and hallucinations as part of the spectrum, but I could be wrong. In a lot of cases, who knows what is going on inside the head of someone else? Ben is totally capable of rage and destruction. He could have easily gone Colombine on his classmates. LOTS of kids end up suicidal from the toxic and sometimes lethal attacks of bullies. The stats on suicide are much higher in the U.S.A. Bullies succeed because they are not exposed. The community seldom knows about the torture being perpetrated. We condone it and even encourage it by our stereotypes and slurs in media and public discourse. We think it is funny to mock someone with a difference. Ben made a choice to end the torment. Everybody in town would know who is trustworthy and who is a weasel. I thought his solution was brilliant. Now, back to the delusion or hallucination: perhaps it is his higher self from whom he gets advice, support and encouragement? Even the incompetent doctors admit Ben is very smart. He just relates to the world by a different set of constructs than a lot of us do. So, the delusion or hallucination may be a part of himself. Violence is no solution. Ben is smart enough to know that; it would simply escalate the situation. If someone is a jerk, shine a light on that and invite your friends and neighbors to see it, close up, in detail. No more shame! Behavioral health challenges are not our real disabilities; the REAL disabilities are the attitudes of the TAMs (Temporarily Able Minded). They are much QUOTE crazier END QUOTE than we are! But why is it that someone has to die before the media listen?

MOVIE: "Jerome Bixby's The Man From Earth"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

What sort of faith says its creator is omnipotent and is the One True Religion and yet is so brittle and fragile that a science FICTION picture could evoke such anger, masquerading fear that maybe, just maybe, thinking beyond What-I-Have-Always-Believed might damage or destroy it? Are we as offended by Santa Claus? This is a group of scholars, discussing possibilities, postulating, speculating. Should we strap bombs to our chests, walk into a crowd of nonbelievers and detonate ourselves? Can we not just celebrate our ability to ponder and to think, without personal attacks and implications that such musings are naive or unread? How do we know what the other has or has not read? Is faith based on love, or is it a desperate nightlight to impotently attempt to ward off fear and doubt? Me, I think Jesus would get a kick out of this film, and Buddha, too. Please, do not fly a plane full of people into a tall building full of people simply because some people think differently than you do. For a $200,000 budget, this was pretty good, technically speaking. I would have picked a better actor to play John, though. I don't think his brow ridge was as prominent as it should have been; he was too hairless and he had an American -- rather than old European -- accent. He learned English on the other side of the pond; he would not sound like a weather announcer on TV. I also think John would be a happier person than portrayed, and much more emotive with his friends. What a nice gift to the world from the death bed of Jerome Bixby! Joy, curiosity, mystery, tenderness: these seem a lot more faith based than fear, anger and insults. But then, I never ran an inquisition.

MOVIE: "Free of Eden"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

I never would have believed I would ever give Phylicia Rashad, let alone Sidney Poitier, three stars for a piece in which either had performed. My main complaint: This is an after school special with cuss words. It is too naive, too simplistic and too much a manifesto on how to be a Black Republican (it is hard to pull oneself up by one's boot straps if one has no boots). I guess most of the people living in Eden are what: too stupid, too lazy to get up and out? Because, you see, there are no other factors that make it nearly impossible to escape poverty, right? Like: in the real world, some of the homeboyz to the bad guy would have snuffed Ms. Thing at the airport for snitching! THAT would be a realistic ending! Now, back to one of my favorite hobbies: the cussing. When Poitier opens his mouth to say something that rhymes with bull spit, my jaw dropped! Later, Ms. Rashad says something that rhymes with duck, several times, and my teeth fell out. To Sir With Love and Claire Huxtable KNOW words like that? They can pronounce them? The world has ended! You mean Black folk get to be regular folk, and do not have to constantly model perfect behavior, or be called race traitors or sell outs? Yet, most of the authority figures in this lil morality play cussed more than the not-too-street-wise-lookin teenagers in the flick. Music was tedious: a somber, forlorn, jazz trumpet in a public toilet, by the reverb. Lighting should have been much better where people were looking at each other through glass: Poitier's eyes were in shadow and he looked like some scary, B-movie bogey man. I loved Fast Freddy and wish he'd gotten a few more lines before . . . well. And if homeboy Poitier is so tight with the riff raff, would it not be beneficial to the denizens of Eden if HE popped his head in once in awhile, and not just order homegirl to pick up his slack? Wud up wd dat? The lil out take at the end of credits was lame. I would love to see Sidney Poitier bloopers! But not THAT one. Guess it was supposed to signify tender moment between daughter and daddy? Speaking of daughter: totally eye candy. But I kept looking for some of that backbone daddy has. I think Sydney (I guess she is named after a city in Australia?), born in the late seventies, will never really know the strength it took for Sidney, born in the late twenties. So the personalities are different. Do not get me wrong: Nobody should have to endure some of what Sidney Poitier experienced back in the day, but wow, what he did with that! So, maybe a sheltered life in post-Civil Rights U.S.A. softens the edges a bit more than I might like, but let us rejoice at the change. If you love Poitier, watch this. But it's not deep, unless you live (as, apparently, our heroine has) under a vast and unmovable rock. But my man Sidney could pee in his shoe while reciting the phone book, and I would be enthralled.

MOVIE: "To Sir, With Love"

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

To all those of you who believe racial stereotypes are real, here is proof that it is a bunch of hooey and that you are full of hot air. Mr. Poitier can neither box, nor dance, his way out of a paper sack. I was dumbfounded. Until watching this, I thought he was totally perfect! Honestly, though: I needed a good, happy cry for joyful reasons, like how one person can actually make some sort of difference in this world. I needed to remember that I am right to think every person deserves dignity and that, given the opportunity, will break her or his back to live up to high expectations. What a CAST! Where are all those brilliant young people now, and what are they doing? So cool to see Mr. Poitier go from BLACKBOARD JUNGLE to this! Too bad the cast of TSWL did not have as much professional good fortune, though. Corny by the standards now? Maybe. Dorky clothes, silly slang. But it is not important. People want to learn, want to take responsibility, want to walk with our heads held high. This film is a lovely reminder.