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Dec. 4th, 2016

bewildered

My ‘Online Stuff 2016’ Round-Up

“Mad Swirl” has just published my poem ‘Apartment 4-C’ online, so I thought I’d link to all my non-actionable 2016 online content in case you’d like to binge read it.

There’s Apartment 4-C in Mad Swirl, which also posted my Invention of Meatloaf back in September.

Pyrokinction, which recently folded, ran my ‘1968,’ ‘Sunday Morning Suggestions,’ and ‘Highway 71,’ all on one page.

The Mind[less] Muse (Pyro’s sister publication) folded at the same time, but they posted my Friday Morning with Ducks in early July.

Pacific Poetry included “Lease Breaking Party Featuring Two One-Line TCM Movie Descriptions” and “Traffic Accident” right here, in their spring issue.

(If you enjoyed those, you might also enjoy this FREE pdf of ten of my poems written to accompany ten paintings by RoByn Thompson. All of the paintings are included in the pdf, right next to the poems they accompany).

Things of mine were also published this year in Chiron Review, No Exit, and Spillway, but only in hard copies. (the ‘No Exit’ that ran my poem “Crossing into Jersey" does not have an online presence as far as I can tell, although there are about 60 other magazines called “No Exit” that do. But none of them published my stuff).

As usual, the bulk (and the best!) of my online work consisted of snarky comments, moronic non sequitors, and fart jokes. I can provide no links to these, as I have no idea where I left them, or what names I left them under, but they were all killer.

Nov. 26th, 2016

bewildered

Reprieved!

There are four ducks living in the chicken yard. They were gifts to the farm from an ex-employee who was moving somewhere you can’t keep ducks as pets. The ducks quickly became part of the flock. When the sun goes down, they go into the chicken hutch with all the chickens. The ducks can actually fly over the fence if they feel like it, but they don’t. Like the chickens, they stay in the yard even when a section of the fence gets knocked down.

At least two of the ducks were ‘invited’ to Thanksgiving dinner this year. I was not happy about this because I like the ducks considerably more than I like the chickens. Kip, who deals with both the chickens and ducks more than I do, was also not happy about it, and for the same reasons. Real-life ducks are not belligerent and sarcastic, like cartoon ducks. They wag their little duck tails when they see you coming with a bag of bread or a bucket of water.

The chickens, on the other hand, are even stupider than their reputation would suggest and do not seem to see any connection between the food they eat and the person dumping the food into the yard. In fact, they sometimes peck at the ankles of this person while he is still in the middle of dumping the food.

Really, fuck the chickens.

Anyway, a few weeks before Thanksgiving Kip and I began sharing stories about the four ducks (Crackers, Dino-duck, Jean-Pierre, and Duck of Earl) with our employer, who apparently found their mad-cap adventures so delightful that all ducks were reprieved. I don’t know what Thanksgiving dinner consisted of, but it was not duck.

Yesterday my boss asked me which Duck was Jean-Pierre, ‘the suave one.’ I pointed out one of the white ducks. (There are two white ducks and two with green heads). Actually, aside from the fact that some of the ducks have green heads and some do not, I can’t tell any of the ducks apart and they have never had any mad-cap adventures.

Also they do not have names.

 

Sep. 6th, 2016

bewildered

Tale of the Tape

As I was walking to the post office, the flap of the envelope containing my electric bill unsealed itself. I experienced that brief feeling of satisfaction I get whenever something falls apart or craps out that would not have fallen apart or crapped out in my day, and continued on to the post office. There was a new person behind the counter. “Hey, my envelope flap came open. Lemme have a piece of scotch tape, would you?”

NEW PERSON: We don’t provide tape.
ME: What?
NEW PERSON: We don’t provide tape.
ME: [Pointing] There’s a tape dispenser right there.
NEW PERSON: Yes.
ME: On the lower counter there.
NEW PERSON: Yes.
ME: Level with your left nut.
NEW PERSON: I know where it is. We don’t provide tape.
ME: I see. I guess I’ll just walk the three blocks back home and retape my envelope and then come back here, then.
NEW PERSON: Yes.
ME: Or, you could give me an inch of tape from that dispenser and I’d have no reason to come back today. We would both be all done.
NEW PERSON: I think we’re both all done now.
ME: No, because I have to go home and tape up my envelope and bring it back here.
NEW PERSON: Um-hum.
ME: So I’ll just get hopping, then.
NEW PERSON: [Hums tunelessly, pretends to scrutinize back of Express Mail envelope].
ME: See you in MINUTES.

In fact I decided to deposit my electric bill in the mail box down the block once I had properly sealed it. I was uneasy about putting it into the hands of The New Person.

I found it difficult to score our exchange. On the one hand, The New Person did not provide me with the tape I needed. On the other hand, I went home and taped up the envelope myself.

Which really isn’t ‘the other hand’ at all, so he won the exchange.

But that’s okay.

This isn’t over, Tape Man.

Sep. 1st, 2016

bewildered

MARK YOUR CALENDARS

I’m going to be proving the musical background for the official opening of RoByn Thompson’s Dream Projects show at the Paterson Museum on Sunday, September 18th. I’ll be playing the guitar (a left-handed Ibanez, with pick-ups so it can be plugged into an amp or a PA system, although no word on whether they’re going to let me do that). Info about RoByn’s show is here, and even tho it’s on Facebook you should be able to access it. I have three hours at my disposal and pretty much no limits on what I can play, since no one attending will be or should be paying the slightest attention to me.

RoByn & I collaborated on a chapbook (10 paintings by her, 10 poems by me) available as a *free* pdf right here.

The flier for my upcoming recital, or at any rate a version of the flier with no pictures and the formatting delightfully randomized by Live Journal’s interface, follows the jump.
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Aug. 10th, 2016

bewildered

PROFESSOR ABRONSIUS'S GARLIC-INFUSED MID-SUMMER BACK-TO-SCHOOL QUIZ

Here are my answers to the current movie quiz on Dennis Cozzalio’s Sergio Leonie and the Infield Fly Rule Blog. Follow either of those links and play along!

1) Name the last 10 movies you've seen, either theatrically or at home
Red Dust. The 100 Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window & Disappeared. Inside Out. Kim. Straight Out of Compton. Sinister 2. Bone Tomahawk. Topkapi. The Walk. Mistress America.


2) Favorite movie feast
The eating scene in “Tom Jones.”

3) Dial M for Murder (1954) or Rear Window (1954)?
Dude. Rear Window!!

4) Favorite song or individual performance from a concert film
Louis Jordan’s “Is You Is or Is You Ain’t My Baby?” in “Follow the Boys.”

Excluding another film from the same director, if you were programming a double feature what would you pair with:

5) Alex Cox's Straight to Hell (1986)? Hellzapoppin’ (1941)
6) Benjamin Christensen's Haxan: Witchcraft Throughout the Ages (1922)? Naked Lunch (1991)
7) Federico Fellini's I vitteloni (1953)? Barbershop (2002)
8) Vincente Minnelli's The Long, Long Trailer (1953)? Vanishing Point (1971)
9) Sam Peckinpah's The Ballad of Cable Hogue (1970)? Strange Days (1995)
10) George Englund's Zachariah (1971)? Bedazzled (1967)

I programmed these double features as if I were actually programming these double features. All my picks have something in common with the movies they’ve been paired with, but mostly I wanted two movies that complimented each other and provided a contrast. I would sit through all these double bills. Well, not The Long Long Trailer or Zachariah. If the rules permitted I would stick them on a double bill by themselves and not watch it. But the rules do not permit that.
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Jul. 20th, 2016

bewildered

Stuff Falling Apart, Chapter 87

My bathtub drain was clogged again and my landlady sent over the plumber to deal with the carrot cube. It always turns out to be a carrot cube. The plumber spent half an hour snaking the bathtub drain with something that looked like a steam-punk ray gun and sounded like the part of the David Cronenberg movie where I go “O holy shit” and head to the kitchen to get another can of Diet Pepsi. Anyway, the drain was good to go shortly and I moved onto the next issue, which was an Internet connection that gets wonky whenever the sky is overcast. I suggested to the young lady in Tech Support that this might be an outside wire problem of some sort and she didn’t believe me but sent over a guy to check it out anyway. The guy told me the issue was that they were sending me too much speed. If I told them to send me less speed, my connection would seem faster. I said I didn’t really follow this, unless by ‘speed’ he meant amphetamines, but he assured me that if I called Verizon and said to slow down my connection, everything would be fine. “Part of the problem is you’re so far away from the main building,” he said. “What ‘main building’?” I said. He shrugged. He had done all he could do. Lord only knows how many morons like me he deals with every day. His patience was commendable. Fortunately (at least from the internet connection angle) it has been a dry summer with mostly sunny skies.

May. 24th, 2016

bewildered

Burt Kwouk R.I.P.

The actor Burt Kwouk died today at the age of 85. He was probably best known for playing Inspector Clouseau’s ‘manservant,’ Cato, in the Pink Panther movies. He would attack the Inspector apropos of nothing (once from a refrigerator) and grapple with him until the phone rang and he would calmly answer, “Inspector Clouseau’s residence.” It was a terrific running gag that lasted for 5 or 6 movies over the course of 15 years. But he was in a lot of other movies both before and after that…

I was at NYU when the Pink Panther series was revived after a nearly decade-long hiatus and one afternoon some of my fellow students were in the Weinstein Hall cafeteria, speculating about the true identity of Burt Kwouk a.k.a. Cato.

Burt Kwouk was the true identity of Burt Kwouk, but in those pre-iPhone, pre-Wikipedia, pre-YouTube days, good information about stupid pointless shit was much more difficult to obtain and you were often forced to speculate in order to keep the conversation going.

CARL: You know, I’d been under the impression it was Bruce Lee, but…

JOEL: Yeah, ‘but’ indeed.

CARL: …But the new movie is definitely the same guy, and it ain’t Bruce.

STEVEN: It’s a lookalike. It was Bruce in Shot in the Dark, and they got a lookalike for the new movie.

JOEL: Is it ‘Kwoke’ or ‘Kweek’?

STEVEN: What? The made-up bullshit name? ‘Kwoke,’ I think.

CARL: Who’s the guy in Streetfighter? Did you guys see Streetfighter?

JOEL: Yeah. No, it’s not him.

CARL: Not the street fighter per se, but I think he’s one of the other guys.

ME: Are you gonna finish that Jell-o?

STEVEN: Yes I am. I’m not even sure it’s a real Japanese guy. Remember Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s?

JOEL: You think it’s Mickey Rooney? Because—

STEVEN: I’m just saying it’s not off the table. A Mickey Rooney-ish guy, I mean, a guy with that range, who can portray Japanese, American, whatever. Obviously Mickey himself is too old.

CARL: Obviously.

STEVEN: Stop looking at my Jell-o. Put the fucking fork down.

ME: I wasn’t…

GUY AT NEARBY TABLE IN AVIATOR FRAMES: It’s a real actor, he was in a couple of James Bond movies.

CARL [raised eyebrow]: A couple of James Bond movies.

AVIATOR FRAMES GUY: Yup.

CARL: Which ones?

AVIATOR FRAMES GUY: Goldfinger, and uh…

STEVEN [smirking]: Oh sure, I remember him. He played Odd Job. He just gained 150 pounds and grew six inches. Very versatile actor… [Winks broadly]

AVIATOR FRAMES GUY: He didn’t play Odd Job. He’s in, I think, Casino Royale, too.

CARL: Of course. The James Bond movie that isn’t even a real James Bond movie.

AVIATOR FRAMES GUY: What does that have to do—

JOEL: Yeah, yeah. Nice try, Captain Bullshit.

ME: Wait. Is he the Chinese guy who sells Goldfinger the atom bomb??

AVIATOR FRAMES GUY: Bingo. Yes.

CARL: “Bingo. Yes.” Jesus.

JOEL: Are you two jerk offs in cahoots??

ME: No, but I remember there’s this other Chinese guy in—

CARL: Gentlemen, I would say he’s just pulling that out of his ass, but nobody has an ass that deep.

**

As excellent as Carl’s insult was—and I was conscious of its excellence even then, all too conscious—I hope I don’t need to tell my regular readers that I came up with a totally crushing rejoinder. In fact I came up with three.

The first one occurred to me less than a week later while I was buying a soda at the candy stand at Variety Photoplays on Third Avenue. I rejected it as being a trifle too obvious.

A far superior one came to me around 1993, when I was changing the belt on the roll machine at the bakery. Then just after the turn of the millennium, I thought of an even better one. Absolutely killer.

Next time I see that goddamn Carl, I’m ready.

May. 14th, 2016

bewildered

Guy on Cell Phone outside the Post Office, May 14, 2016, 9:50 AM

“…Well, he lives in a friggin’ swamp! An’ everything he owns smells like, like he lives in a friggin’ swamp! …I dunno know the name of the SWAMP. A…a cat’s got a name, you can put it right on the dish. Not a swamp.”

May. 10th, 2016

bewildered

After the Carnival

Carnival of Souls really puzzled me when I first saw it on TV at the age of, let’s say, 9. It wasn’t scary but it was creepy. It had ghouls, or zombies, or something, but it was hard to figure out what their agenda was. This was kind of fascinating but it was, weirdly, no fun. I sensed there were things happening that I didn’t understand, and I also sensed that I didn’t understand them because I was a kid. Despite all its gaucheries (and they were pretty clear to me even then), I could tell this was an adult movie. I kept watching anyway. On the off chance you haven’t seen it, or read about it, let me do a *spoiler alert* here. Skip the next paragraph if you don’t want to know what’s going on, although if you’re not a 9 year old kid in 1964 you’re going to figure it out in about 5 minutes.

The main character is dead and doesn’t know it, and sometimes people interact with her and sometimes they can’t even see her, and her sense of isolation and loneliness is what gives this 78 minute, micro budget B & W movie most of its power.

The director, Herk Harvey, made educational films and industrial safety shorts (“Shake Hands with Danger,” for instance, which has an excellent theme song) for a mid-western company called Centron. This was his only feature, made for 33K in the course of three weeks in 1961, released (without a copyright notice, placing it automatically into the public domain) on the bottom half of a double bill* in 1962, and then sold to TV immediately. Harvey continued working for Centron for another couple of decades but never made another feature.

Although he tried. He got one into production in the late sixties, The Reluctant Witch, adapted by fellow Kansan James E. Gunn from his own Galaxy short story. It began filming and then things fell apart, as they often do. I didn’t know about this until a few days ago, when David Cairns mentioned it in the course of a post about the new Criterion Collection Blue Ray edition of Carnival, which includes a video essay by Cairns.

He also mentioned that the rushes from Witch are available on the Internet Archive.

!!!

That would be this, and there’s an hour of it. It’s exciting because nobody (well, me) knew it existed, but it’s raw footage, not color-corrected or balanced or edited, and there’s no sound, and a lot of it seems to be test footage or b-roll.

I found a YouTube edit  putting 5 minutes worth of the material in some sort of continuity. It’s the same raw footage, but a lot less of it. Some music from Carnival is pressed into service as a soundtrack. Otherwise, it’s still silent, not color corrected or light balanced, etc., which is to say the image quality is awful. And of course it’s not Harvey’s edit. The fight at the gas station looks like it might have been potentially cool, given the camera placement when those guys come boiling out the door. The thing is, there’s no way to be certain Harvey would have used any of these shots in the film. Some of it could have been intended to run under the credits, some of it might have been deemed unusable for one reason or another, etc. Although I’m grateful for the existence of this edit, I don’t think it does Herk Harvey’s reputation any favors.

On the other hand, it did generate some new info: From the comments on the YouTube page: “I can't believe you have this footage! That professor is my father, Leonard Schneider. He was working for Centron as well, at the time, as a director and writer. They had him play the lead in this unfinished film, along with Jennifer Salt (later of Soap**).” (I didn’t spot Jennifer in the edit or in the raw footage).

This isn’t exactly the original version of Magnificent Ambersons or the complete Greed or even the missing giant spider scene from the 1933 King Kong. But this is what we got.

_________________________________

The story it was based on—“The Reluctant Witch,” (also known as “Wherever You May Be”) by James E. Gunn—was adapted by the radio show X Minus One, and the episode can be streamed or downloaded as an mp3 on this page. (It’s really not fair to judge the story on the basis of a radio adaptation, especially one with an oboe going “Wah-WAH” every time the hero realizes he’s in trouble, but still.)

The Internet Archive hosts Carnival of Souls here for streaming or download. It’s not a terrible print but it’s not great, either. They have a better-looking copy here. This is the theatrical release version and it’s 5 or 6 minutes shorter. And you can find some other prints as well as a bunch of Herk’s safety films on this page (including “Shake Hands with Danger”!)

* Top half: The Devil’s Messenger, a Swedish crap-fest cobbled together from three episodes of an ersatz Twilight Zone show, with Lon Chaney Jr. spliced in at more or less random intervals. He plays The Devil. Don’t even ask.

** If the film was really shot in the late sixties (and it sure looks like it), she would already have appeared in a couple of early Brian DePalma movies and possibly Midnight Cowboy. She’s currently the co-exec. producer & sometime writer of American Horror Story.

May. 5th, 2016

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Crisp

The Softsoap dispenser on my bathroom sink is filled with “Crisp Cucumber & Melon” scented Softsoap. I like the way it smells, but I just this morning noticed that “crisp” and it’s really bugging me. Why would ‘crisp’ be a selling point for a smell? The soap has no ‘snap’ to it. Are they just going for the alliteration? Is ‘crisp’ an alternative to the way-overused ‘fresh’? Probably ‘yes’ on both, but I’m still bugged. I’m washing my hands and thinking, “I’m washing my hands with ‘crisp’ soap.”

I have a bar of Irish Spring my daughter gave me for Fathers Day a few years back. I could use that, I guess, but then I would be thinking “I’m washing my hands with a bar of Irish Spring that my daughter got me for Fathers Day.”

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