Just another Friday email from my mama
“Once when grandpa was trying to sprinkle some of his “holy water” on you, you pushed back at him and the holy water. He said he was scared. You did a little dance and kind of kicked up your legs and clapped in his face so he couldn’t really get to your forehead with the water like he was trying to do. It scared him. Lord, girl. Bye.”
“Schulz’s writing was criticized in the negative reviews for ‘mannerism’ and ‘uselessness.’”
- Wikipedia entry for The Street of Crocodiles by Bruno Schulz
They spelled my name wrong in the Contributor’s Notes, but, for once, I’m totally okay with that.
Los Angeles Trip 1/11/2012-1/25/2012. Justin made us this list so we could cross things off it and feel like we were achieving something.
Susan Sontag, Reborn: Journals & Notebooks 1947-1963
“Steve McQueen: It was a very odd thing having these conversations about a love interest that was a black woman with Brandon. It was interesting, that. It was fascinating. What fascinates me is you have lots of American white filmmakers who would never, ever cast a black person ever in their movies, and they’ve made quite a few movies! And it’s like - how can you avoid that? How can you make movies in this country and consistently make movies and not cast black characters in the main leads?
Elvis Mitchell: I’ve waited 15 years for somebody to say that, and now we’re out of time. My guest is Steve McQueen -
Steve McQueen: Am I in trouble?”
- Steve McQueen on The Treatment with Elvis Mitchell
The best thing to come out of an otherwise deeply, deeply flawed movie?
LA Weekly writers’ favorite books of 2011 I wrote about Pulphead, which, if you haven’t read it yet - especially this essay about the imminent global animal apocalypse - you should now before it’s too late.
Halfway through Margaret Justin leaned over and said, “I keep expecting everybody to start speaking in French.” He had a point. It’s like Olivier Assayas (Think Summer Hours, not Carlos) directed a two hour and twenty-nine minute episode of My So Called Life, set it in post 9/11 Manhattan and rewrote Angela as less passive and more prone to wanton destruction.
Which is to say, it’s fucking great. And up at Cinema Village now. You should go.
(Aside: Olivia Thirlby plays the best friend in this movie. How sick do you think she is of being “That girl who’s not Kat Dennings”?)
