Friday, August 26, 2005


Back and house-hunting a mere 24 hours after a 13-hour flight and 5-hour train ride. Exhaustion barely covers what I'm feeling right now. NorIda found me a beautiful place for cheap. Heading there after I check out something else I found across the street from the downtown campus. Mom called 7 times wanting to ask me whether I'm interested in joining high officials in celebrating a national holiday in ... North Korea. Dude! Who wouldn't?! Sign me up, Kimchi.


Back to my old habits: Buying books and watching movies -- the activities of the non-active. Bought Naomi Klein's "Fences and Windows"; Darian Leader's "Stealing the Mona Lisa: What Art Stops Us From Seeing"; and "Sideways" by Rex Pickett. (I watched the movie, might as well read the book.) Sat at Indigo reading the Salman Rushdie interview in GQ. That man is great; we both think Batman is so much better off without his emo-listening, second-hand shopping, skinny sidekick, Robin.

Caught "Hustle & Flow" in a theatre packed with kids dressed in oversized fly netting meets disposed Christmas garlands. Rudest crowd I've ever had the pleasure of sucking air with. I don't want to sound presumptuous (even though that's what's coming), but I should've known what to have expected when 90 percent of the audience were attired in sleeveless mumus and hair done up like a country corsage. Maybe I'm old-fashioned and a conservative busybody, but I've always found inappropriate laughter excruciatingly irritating. These kids (more likely my peers) laugh when a man cries, when a stripper walks by, when a white girl shows up on screen in braids. The beauty of the script was the way it evoked complexities in laymen's terms. It was met with immature chanting during key scenes where I couldn't even concentrate on the movie because I could hear people dropping F-bombs like it was Def Jam for the deaf and retarded. If you can keep your head when all about you/ Are losing theirs ...

Crunch, crunch, crunch went the loudmouth in the terrycloth bodysuit as she tore into her Frito-Lays.

It was art imitating life imitating people with futures fixing their kneepads and lipstick.

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