Pristine Angie’s Good Homemaker Adventures at www.d332.com

I somewhat braced myself to see a barrage of the “Wh* Tr*” label being thrown around when reading the reviews of this movie. (A perfect negation to all who claim Americans are comparatively less class-conscious.) If we can get pass additional loaded labels like “Enfant Terrible” and “pretentious,” maybe we can all start to see with a fresh eye. It amazes me that so many people trumpet the greatness of American Beauty, but suddenly go sour when the movie Ricky Fitts would have logically gone off to shoot after he became tired of filming the flying bag in the whirlwind, is right here: Symbolically, that small whirlwind in American Beauty that blew the bag around for a five-minute video has turned into the gigantic tornado that hit Xenia Ohio.

If we can suspend our prejudices at the word “Wh* Tr*” for 90 minutes, then every image becomes a thing of beauty. Is violence bad? Sure. The allusions made from the image of a gang of drunk shirtless guys beating up a chair is scary, I’ll admit it. But it doesn’t make the image itself ugly. In fact, it’s quite gorgeous.  One can chose furthermore to look at scenes like these as an ethnographic study from an anthropological viewpoint. Whenever I find that I might get carried away with a little bit of snobbery, all I have to say to myself is this: If Francisco Goya was at that kitchen, if Durer was there, or even Kathe Kollwitz…would any of these artist chose NOT to document the moment?

No.

So we have to be very careful when we react to something as a result of our upbringing and prejudices versus the lifelong search for all that is truly beautiful.

Traditional folk singer Almeda Riddle opens the movie with a wonderfully sung Rooster song. Jacob Sewell (with androgynous supermodel looks) dons bunny ears and embodies the violence dished out on stray cats. (The American Humane Society is noted at the end of the film as being on the premises to monitor and prevent any animal cruelty. Prostethetics were used as well, just in case you were concerned). I especially enjoyed the alternate settings of cruelty to cats (from the boys) and adoration (from girls), and the subsequent crossroad leading to that abstract object of desire disappearing…and ending up in the hands of the bunny boy.

Everything in between is there for the taking. You just have to check your sense of superiority at the door and take every image as it comes.

For years, I’ve always said that a traveler to any country or town always brings a fresh eye to the way natives see the things they have taken for granted. Korine mentions this about the cinematographer Jean-Yves Escoffier as well, saying that the Frenchman sees Nashville with the eyes of wonder (which we should all possess on a daily basis).

Of course, it’s possible to argue that if you look without discrimination, then taste and preferences are all but abolished. You might as well just let the camera roll. That’s a mistake. Taste and preferences (which, in another word is prejudice) are instilled in us. When you come out of an instructive movie like Gummo, you begin to reassess what you have taken for granted (or flat out ignored) all along. Hopefully you’ll see your surroundings with a fresh new eye.

Anyone who is a serious student of gender behavior cannot go without studying the phenomenon of Ann Coulter.

She says everything you’d expect to come out of a big brusque hairy construction worker driving around in a beat up Chevy truck with a rebel flag and rifle rack on the back panel. But because she’s a blond skinny white girl, everyone goes bonkers and walk into walls at the very mention of her name.

What does that say about us? What does that say about our stereotype and expectations of both blond skinny white girls and people who drive Chevy’s? (After all,hHasn’t it been tactfully addressed in Scorcese’s Last Temptation that little innocent blond white girls are in fact, the devil?)

I think people’s reaction to Ann Coulter is a psychosomatic Stroop effect. (Wiki that if you need to). They see the properties of a primary group being announced by a different group, but the reaction then becomes an interference.

How do I know it’s a Stroop interference? Well, because when non-Coulter fans talk about Ann Coulter, the first topic that comes up is her Adam’s Apple.

Anyone reading this entry who was direly seeking a thesis for his/her psychology doctorate dissertation: You’re welcome.

Ten Impossible Christmas Gifts For This High Maintenace Girl. (I love doing these…because I go and check on the availability of each item while making this entry, and upon finding it purchasable, immediately buy it and remove it from my list!)

1. World Peace (that’s a no brainer)Not in the wishy-washy sense. Just a modest plea for every man to see the fella next to him as his brother and give a little love. A small step for mankind may go a long way towards worldly compassion and human kindness.
2. The DVD: Mahmoud Ben Mahmoud’s Thousand and One Voices (LES MILLES ET UNE VOIX: LA MUSIQUE DE L’ISLAM) The Music of Islam.

Fantastic documentary that includes Islamic chants on religious gatherings. A must for anyone aspiring to dig deep into the roots of dance music and club DJ-ing. Just listening to the rhythmic nodes and watching the devout go into trance sways is great aesthetic satisfaction.

3. The Complete Collection of the Films of Shirin Neshat on DVD.

Seeing this marvelous Iranian’s short film Rapture at The Whitney Biennial made a lasting impression. In more ways than one, it reverberated with the works of Jorges Luis Borges labyrinthian schemas and give a voice to Iranian women.

4. A local Scottish restuarant that serves Haggis year round (and not only on Robert Burns’s birtday)

5. A CD release by my favorite NYC ex-Centrofly Deep House DJ: Carl Kennedy.

6. A monster coffee table book of Zhang Xu’s Wild Cursive Script Calligraphy

The originator of the Drunken Monk Calligraphy script (pictured above). Wild, beautiful, drunk. Nobody can fault Chinese calligraphers who get pissed on wine, then procede to dip each other in ink and drag their bodies across parchment to express themselves.

7. A pet giraffe.

They are so tall and graceful, and I adore their FA-BU eyelashes! Surely, the supermodels of the animal kingdom. Ok ok: Minus the half-kilo-coke-and-Vodka-binge per night habit. What?

8. The Complete Collection of Arseny Tarkovsky’s poetry translated into English.

Apparently there was one last copy of Arseny’s poems translated By Richard McKane (though not a complete collection) on sale on the entire internet. Well, I said was.

9. White peter pan collar blouse with cap short sleeves.

Young girls use to wear this. Now it can’t be found anywhere. A fine example can be found at the closing of the movie Kung Fu (Kung Fu Hustle) when the little girl re-unites with the little boy in front of the candy store. It’s so adorable and cute. If I find a place that has it, I’m buying the entire stock.

10. To Travel Invisible

I love traveling. But there’s a part of me that feels that the “front” people display in the presence of outsiders is never quite as genuine as the daily masks they don. Seeing all the different parts and culture of the world helps give me a sound perception and understanding of humanity. For example, I never knew Japanese people don’t look like Tom Cruise and aliens don’t have British accents. Hey! No way! Who woulda thought!

Biltmore Estates Hothouse, Asheville North Carolina (Updated: Dec 7, 2006)

My friend Richard always jokingly warned me about running my mouth on my website. He’s like “you know, guys tend to get scared off by girls who list Desiderius Erasmus and Martin Amis as their staple reading fare.” What he should have said was “scholarly male suitors have not been known to have very good track records when it comes to sack knowledge.”

I have noticed two recurrences: People who first know me through my website are shocked when they finally meet me in the flesh. “REALLY?! We are positively confounded at the notion that you may have any proclivities towards expending precious intellectualizing discursive discourse in favor of playing tea time with your stuff animals watching AquaMarine! We were expecting you to be tight lipped, stuffy, why, why…at least be able to eat artichokes properly with the correct fork!”

Being online is an intellectual pursuit. I would think I have far more social graces than to bombard real time company with mind garble.
I like people who are fun to be around. After all, Audrey Hepburn went all the way to Paris to yuck it up with Parisian intellectuals in a cellar bar and look what she ended up doing?

Dancing.

The other common scenario is the reverse. When people who take to me in the flesh later come to my website, they are apt to remark: “Oh. My. God. Dude, STFU! We had like- totally no idea. We thought you were like, totally HelloKitty and Pokemon all the time.”

Honestly, I’d take Pokemon over Wittgenstein anyday.  Sure, when I’m alone, surrounded by books and sitting in front of a computer, I like to look for information, gain knowledge and think. (thankfully that’s not *yawn* too often)

When I’m with people in the flesh, I like to…. (wait, never mind).

Besides, has anyone ever met a real male suitor online?