Friday, April 30, 2004

Things I have heard before 7am because my window is on the airshaft

Though, to call it a window implies it possesses some of the qualities of a window, like it lets in light, lets in air, gives you something to look at, offers an emergency escape route from fire or madmen. My "window" lets it no light, no air, the bottom pane is fuzzy so no one can look in or out, and it exits onto a totally enclosed and inescapable airshaft. With lots of plastic bags and plants, soda bottles, shoes, and many, many hangers languishing at the bottom. It perplexes me a little to think people just throw things out the window. Like, "these shoes are old and ratty. The garbage is a whole 10 feet away," (because at no time in any of these apartments is anything, the garbage, bathroom, bed, possibly more than 10 feet away), " thank God the window's right here."
My most favorite building camaraderie moment came when someone left a handwritten note on the elevator that said "Tenants: DON'T THROW YOUR SHIT OUT THE WINDOW INTO THE AIRSHAFT. There was a small FIRE today because a burning cigarette butt started smoldering. The fire department almost could not gain access. Please be more considerate and less retarded in the future."

1) La Isla Bonita. There's an apartment full of loud hipsters, 2 girls and a boy, who only ever see each other at 3 in the morning. Different schedules and what not. So they like to talk, listen to music, and catch up with their "windows" wide open. (More recently, the boy was talking to one of the girls while she was in the bathroom, and he must have been speaking directly out of his window because I could hear him perfectly. At some point he asked her "Do you know the name of that movie Denzel Washingtion did, before Antwon Fisher? Where he was wrongfully convicted?" She didn't. So, lying in bed riveted to their conversation as I was, I screamed out "The Hurricane." To which I got a nice thank you, and a move away from the window.) One 5am they decided to give the Immaculate Collection a workout, which I totally sympathize with. I almost got up and started dancing on my bed to "Like a Prayer" before I realized that I was, oh right, trying to sleep. That night I dreamt of San Pedro.

2) Really angry fight between drunken boyfriend and door buzzer. Because apartments on the shaft are about 10 feet apart (the rule really does apply to everything,) when something rings in someone else's house on or near my floor, I'm all like, huzuh? I'm getting a dial tone, how is my phone ringing?
The buzzer is incredibly, incredibly loud, which is mostly a good thing, except when someone else's boyfriend is not taking no for answer. Here's how it went:
"BUZZZZ."
"BUZZZZZ."
"BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ."
"BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ."
"FUCKING BITCH."
"Jake?"
"Oh, hey baby. Let me up"
"What time is it?"
"Baby, let me up."
"Are you drunk?"
"Let me the fuck up."
"Jake?"
"Open the fucking door."
"BUZZZZ"
"BUZZZZZZ"
"BUZZZZZ"
[Some neighbor screams] "LET THAT ASSHOLE IN. I'M TRYING TO SLEEP"

3) The recorder. Someone was practicing Hot Cross Buns before running off to 2nd grade this morning. After that rousing rendition of the classic, during which I had blearily opened my eyes and wondered if I was dreaming, followed by a serious bout of confusion, the boy wonder started doing that thing kids do when they can't play an instrument, namely, creating really piercing and discordant sounds for a very, very long period of time. Officially, the recorder should no longer exist

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

One Billion Trillion Dollars

I have been a fanatic about keeping my hotmail account from getting spammed. I don't think this is spam, but I don't know what the hell it is. Nice to get offered 5 mil before my shower though.

From : Richard Sullivan
Reply-To : richard_sullivan@ozu.es
Sent : Tuesday, April 27, 2004 6:09 AM
To : whpaskin@hotmail.com
Subject : Assistance

URGENT BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Engineer Richard Sullivan
Shell Petroleum South-Africa.

Attn: THE PRESIDENT/MANAGING DIRECTOR/CEO

I am Engineer Richard Sullivan, a Director of the Contracts
Award and review Department with the Shell petroleum
South-Africa. I am contacting you on the
business of transferring the sum of
US$20,500,000.00.(Twenty Million,five Hundred thousand
United States Dollars only) into a safe foreign account and

the need is very urgent. I got your contact from the
South-Africa Chambers of Commerce and it is with business
trust that made me to contact you on this
matter. I write to solicit for the transfer of this money
into your account. This Money was generated from an over
Invoiced contract sum in my corporation.

I am contacting you for your help and partnership for the
following two reasons:
(1) As a civil servant, I am not permitted to own foreign
accounts due to civil service code of conduct.
(2) My present financial resources as a civil servant will
not be sufficient for me to handle the transfer alone
successfully without financial assistance from a reliable
foreign partner abroad like you. 20% of this sum would be
for
you as compensation for using your Bank account in
transferring this money, 5% would be used to re-imburse the
expenses made by both parties during the
processing of the transfer which includes,telephone bills,
travelling expenses and fees. While 75% is for me.

Please note that I will arrange to meet with you
immediately after the successful conclusion of the
transfer, the 75% share of mine will be used for
investment overseas. Your assistance and co-operation is
highly needed. I assure you that this transaction is 100%
risk free. If you are interested I
will require your banking information as mentioned below:

1. Name to be used as beneficiary and beneficiarys address.
2. Your private and confidential telephone/ fax
number(s)and Cell phone.
3. Your bank name and address, your bank Telephone and fax
number(s).

I hope to conclude this business within the next fourteen-
(14) working days.
Looking forward to your anticipated and urgent positive
response via e-
mail.
Best regards,

Richard Sullivan

Monday, April 26, 2004

Part II

In this installment, the last I swear, I was supposed to get mad at the shows' themselves for completely lacking in the morals department. What they do to contestants is insidiously shitty, but getting heated at the shows is, I think, missing the point by letting us off the hook instead.
The Swan is not the networks' fault. It's not the producers' fault. It's not the contestants' fault. It's our, the viewers, fault.
It's not that any of those other people/organizations are blameless. We are all responsible for our actions, and certainly, their actions are more hideous than flicking on the TV some Wednesday night and not being able to turn away from the hypnotizing mess playing out.
The Swan depends on everyone involved for success. If producers hadn't thought it up and executed it, it wouldn't exist. If there weren't women this malleable, and more generally, willing to do anything for some kind of fame, this show and others wouldn't exist. If networks cared less about ratings they wouldn't exist. If we didn't watch these shows they wouldn't exist.
The difference between us and everyone else is that none of those people are conflicted about the programs they contribute to. Sure, they should be. But they aren't. Whether this is because they're unthinking or soulless is unclear. Either way they aren't contributing to the success of something they find repugnant. They either don't know any better, or they don't believe any better.
All of the people kicking up a storm about The Swan and all the people who are just quietly disgusted or disturbed by it do know and believe better, but, some at least, continue to watch. (I'm not engaging the real possibility, likelihood maybe, that most people don't have a problem with The Swan). If no one watched really fucked up women get fucked up in the name of beauty and mental health by conscienceless professionals then there wouldn't be shows like this. And the burden of its existence falls to us, not because we are solely responsible for that, but because we are solely bothered by it.
We can either accept it and all of its twisted offspring, without bellyaching, or turn it off.

Kevin Costner has next

Who is Ken Wahl?
I mean, other than the guy who graced the cover of Us Weekly on April 19, 1989, touted as "The Sexiest Man of Television," and catches my eye every single time I walk past the wall of covers on my way to the bathroom, vending machine, or water cooler.
IMDB tells me he was in a late 80's TV show called Wiseguys and starred in a movie with Paul Newman called Fort Apache The Bronx (the best movie title ever) and The Gladiator, among others. Should this be ringing a bell? It’s not.
He kind of makes me sad. All young and Miami Vice attractive, thinking he had it made as an actor, on the cover of a magazine, and now no one has ever even heard of him.
It's like how I thought I saw the guy from The Pretender on the street the other day and then realized it couldn't be him because he died freakishly almost the day after the show was cancelled.
Or really it's nothing like that, except that I imagine Ken Wahl suffered the same fate, but worse. Like Wahl's demise involved really shady drug deals, prostitutes, amputation, and squatting in LA somewhere.
I'm worried now that I've read and sublimated a People Magazine article about Wahl and that this all may be true.

Channeling Woody Allen

Middle-aged man, dining with his wife and another couple: "My [golf] handicap went way down when I started analysis."

Friday, April 23, 2004

Capitalizing on anything we can: The American Way

So Anthropology of an American Girl has been advertising on Gawker for months now. I think sometime in November I actually went to the site, when there was that weird squirmy fish graphic, realized it was a novel and went away, because I get bored about fiction on the computer and my eyes start to burn. Anyway. I saw a hardcopy of this book the other day, maybe at Borders? Or the Strand? It's fucking heavy, physically, and also starts with some present tense sentence like, "The party is starting, but I can't find Chris, and I feel empty." I don't actually remember it, but I have the impression there was a party, it was night, and it was cold.
The reason I’m rambling about this is that today (and probably for the last week or two), the link off Gawker reads "Jack, another creative loner, disaffected from his family, who finds sweet-raging solace as a musician./ Eventually blows his mind out on drugs and his own Kurt Cobain conclusion/ Missing Kurt? Read about Jack."
Before going on, "Sweet-raging solace" may be exactly the phrase for which gag me with a spoon was invented. So, gag me with a motherfucking spoon.
How cheap and unappealing is this Jack, Kurt comparison? And how far off the mark? If you're the type who "misses Kurt" I bet someone telling you in an advertisement that they have just the thing is going to be really, really compelling.

Mike Seaver: how the mighty have fallen

Bert is a bad influence and Kirk is worse

Thursday, April 22, 2004

Teenybopper Edition

I watched Freaky Friday last night, and in all seriousness, if you have not seen that movie yet, I have no idea what you're waiting for. So best.
After this and Mean Girls, which I managed to "sneak" into a screening of (and by sneak I mean, asked politely), I am officially pro-Lindsey Lohan in the Lohan vs Duff wrestlemania match to determine who comes in second (behind The Olsen Twins, or excuse me, Mary-Kate and Ashley) in the tween queen beatdown.
And, walking home from dinner last night, past a Tower Records that has enlargements of recent album covers ringing the outside of the store, I saw a giggly teenager kiss a window. After walking by I realized that she had been kissing Seth Cohen's face, as The OC Mix Tape 1 cover could be seen through the rank, smudgy plexiglass. As much as Adam Brody knows about and appreciates this gesture, is it worth the Hep C?

Monday, April 19, 2004

Towards a Part II

The WB is going to begin airing a show called Superstar USA, a take-off on American Idol, in May (according to a Variety article that ran 4/14). The necessary twist is that instead of picking the "good" contestants, judges, who include Tone-Loc and Vitamin C, will pick the bad ones. The contestants are, of course, unaware of this and believe they have been chosen because of their talent. In order to keep up the charade, judges heap praise upon the contestants, who are also given fake fans. The show's premise will be revealed in the series finale, when two finalists go head to head to be named Superstar USA. To soften the blow, the "winner" will receive $100,000 and a recording contract.
Mike Fleiss, the show's executive producer, explains "These people believe they're the next pop-superstar, even though they're horrible singers. It's not funny seeing bad singers doing karoke. This is about people who are clearly delusional and watching them butcher song after song." Or, in other words, this is funny not because bad singing is funny, but because delusional people are funny. Cool. I bet retarded people singing would be funnier.
Fleiss thinks this show is going to have people talking, "Calling their friends saying, "You won't believe what they're doing."

This show is going to be a huge hit. And it’s because shows like this, unethical, but car-crash watchable and funny, flourish, that moral indignation about shows that "cross the line," like The Swan, falls on deaf ears and remains insincere.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

Dogville, Colorado. Pop. 15

So I'd been putting off seeing Dogville cause I thought it was going to have me all fucked up about America and hypocrisy and violence. I saw it today and realized that I only thought it was going to mess me up because I believed the critics who believed Lars Von Trier when he claimed he knew what this, "his," movie was about.
Surely Von Trier made this film with a very specific message in mind. And, judging from the press, and parts of the film, that was a message about America's two-facedness. About our rhetoric of acceptance versus our acts of exclusion. Violence masked by selfish kindness, personal gain fronting as community need. In case you didn't quite understand that America is not just the land of plenty, but also the land of the poor and broken, that the dream, the myth is bogus, the closing credits play over photographs of just such poor and broken Americans.
But to me, the closing credits seemed really out of place. And that's because I could give a hoot about Von Trier's intended message. This film is only an allegory of America if you take his word that it is an allegory of America. You should not take his word for this. And then you should watch the movie.
I'm not saying it doesn't have anything to say about America. It doesn't, I think, have much to say that hasn't been said before. When we learned about the American Dream in high school, we also learned that it was a myth.
As a critique of America I think it fails, because the story, the place, the characters seem so particular, though they may have been intended as generalizations. Dogville, is not actually a very American place, even though it's intended to stand in as an everytown. Dogville is, however, a very interesting place, as is what happens there. Not as an allegory, just as a story.
I wish the critics had treated Von Trier like an author. Which is to say, that what he intended should have stopped mattering when he finished the film. After that, what the film means is something personal, for each of us to decide for ourselves. It is not something to be, that even can be, decided by the filmmaker.
That's not to say that what Von Trier intended isn't interesting, just that it's not the point. I am extremely curious to know how he understands Grace's transformation and how it fits into his allegorical scheme, but only because he interests me as a director and a person, not because I need him to tell me what I think and how I feel about her change of heart.
Had I seen the movie totally cold, I would not have been haunted by questions about America. I would, and I am, haunted by Grace and her transformation, by whether or not I believe or understand it, and whether or not I can forgive her for it, or if there is even anything to forgive. This film gave me something to think about. And though it's not what I thought it would be and it's probably not what Lars Von Trier wanted it to be, it's worthwhile all the same.

Do not buy the "Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen" Soundtrack

Can someone please tell me why this article exists? And why it is running as the lead article of a supposedly legit music section?

Monday, April 12, 2004

Part I

Reality TV has been obsessing me of late. First "I Want a Famous Face" sent me to the brink, and then "The Swan" (stinging recap/essay found here) pushed me over the edge. What I've been struggling with is RTV and ethics. Not whether right and wrong should be considerations of reality TV, but why they aren't already considerations in any meaningful way.
Reality shows have not been taken to task for being entirely unethical for a number of reasons. The vaguest is that most of us don't spend much time thinking about ethics in the first place. They're such a quaint way to evaluate things. Better to leave complaints about Temptation Island up to bible thumping Texan Mary Katherine, who personally called the FCC everyday after that "horrific display of lewdness" at the Superbowl, and crusades for family values in all of America's entertainments. I'd rather eat pizza and chug some beer every time someone cheats, gets naked, or cries at my friend's weekly viewing party.
Who am I to get all riled up about liars and cheaters? It's not like I'm beyond reproach, or in possession of an ethical code. Sometimes I lie. Sometimes I steal things from large chain stores and don't feel bad about it. Sometimes I even steal bananas. Sometimes I'm mean. Sometimes I'd check my answers on the kid's next to me during a math test. Sometimes I make a mess and leave it for someone else to clean up. I don't think any of these are particularly horrific, just kind of regular. So when Joe Millionaire is lying, it doesn't seem that big of a deal either. Especially because he's lying to a bunch of dumb hoes.
Which brings us to the major reason shows are not taken to task for being unethical: we're too busy taking the contestants to task instead. If you willingly go on a reality show, you pretty much get what you deserve. Who cares that by this logic what contestants deserve usually consists of being lied to, exploited, and portrayed as idiots, bitches, and liars?
Some of the participants are fame-seekers, Omorosa being only the most recent example, who intentionally seek out the evil bitch role, as one of the surest ways to sear themselves into the national psyche. Alternately, wronged complainers aren't going to get much pity. There is a formula after all, and at it's most basic, it goes something like, "The Producers Are Going To Lie To You In Order To Pull Off A Shocking Twist." No surprise, no lie perpetrated by a show is beyond the pale. If you feel taken advantage of that only means the premise was beyond your imagination. And if you were either too naive or arrogant to have seen that coming, well, I'm ok with laughing at you. And everyone else knew they would be manipulated. That they would be edited any old way the producers pleased. That their every act would be scrutinized. I feel free to laugh at them too, because that's what they signed on for.
Then there are the people doing the plastic surgery. And I can’t laugh at them. They make me sad. (And, everyone else too. This is why a show like The Swan may reality TV gone too far. You can't laugh at the contestants, and are forced to examine the structure that enables and justifies their insecurities. Though, that may just be wishful thinking).
The reason I'm comfortable crapping all over most reality show contestants, and this could, of course, just be editing, is that they don't seem like human beings, or not any I've ever known. They are totally without consciousness. It doesn't make any sense. We live in a time where national ad-campaigns are built around irony and self-reference. We were, like, dubbed the age of irony. It supposedly died on September 11th. But, judging from these shows, no one is the least bit familiar with irony, or self-reflexivity, or, even, thoughts. They only grapple with events in the shallowest, cheesiest, least aware ways possible. The word connection gets bandied around like it's an article, even though all the contestants have seen enough shows to know what a ragingly offensive and meaningless cliché it really is. They believe in the show's "process." Participants embark on dramatic restructurings of their faces and bodies without considering for one second how truly heavy it is to make yourself over in someone else's image. They quote Dr. Phil and talk about improving selves that are so elusive and suggestible as to be virtually non-existent.
Yet, the contestants are just people. And people get caught up in things. I don't know many kids who would turn down a spot on The Real World if it was actually offered to them. And, while I don't really think it's a sound way to find love, there are worse things than being a Bachelorette. Maybe participants aren't all that different, and they just get portrayed that way, allowing me to turn RTV stars into "the other," people whose pain and joys I can laugh at without implicating myself or anyone I love and respect. Even with all evidence to the contrary, RTV participants are still humans, and therefore deserving of... something.
At the very least, we should not let our derision for the contestants obfuscate the shows' equal, if not greater, detestability.

Which I will get into next time, cause this is already self-indulgently long

Sunday, April 11, 2004

Ike is wearing an "I go to N'sync concerts for pussy" tee-shirt by no one

So I just read American Psycho. Don't really want to get into it too much because, well, that shit is fucked up, and also, you can't really say anything about it, content and meaning-wise, without being deeply banal. Like, for example, that shit is fucked up. Or, It was really violent. I had to skip most of the paragraphs where he describes horrifically brutalizing women. I think it's a comment about the vapidness of the 80's. Or American culture. Or Western culture. Or rich people. Or all of the above. I don't think people like that exist. I think we are those people. Yawn.
What messed with my head most was not Patrick Bateman and his psychopathic ways, but Brett Easton Ellis. And not for the descriptions of the cutting off limbs with axes and chainsaws, but for all the damn clothes. The man wrote every single one of the 100-odd outfit descriptions in the novel. Like on Page 2," Price is wearing a six-button wool and silk suit by Ermengildo Zegna, a cotton shirt with French cuffs by Ike Behar, a Ralph Lauren silk tie and leather wing tips by Fratelli Rossetti." Last chapter of the book, "I'm wearing a wool suit by Armani, shoes by Allen-Edmonds, pocket square by Brooks Brothers." Screw the intended meaning of all these repetitious descriptions, E-E here had to write every freaking one, demonstrating a really uncanny and frightening knowledge of designer menswear, and implicating himself in Bateman's fucked up world.

Monday, April 05, 2004

The Nine Circles of Reality Television Hell

1. Trading Spaces, Pimp My Ride: shows that are in good fun and do not involve the physical or emotional manipulation of humans.
2. Newlyweds, The Osbournes: shows in which the subjects have creative control, and are thus, being exploited only as much as they want to be
3. Real World, Road Rules: subjects lack creative control, but are not expected to do anything more embarrassing than be themselves. Which can of course, on occasion, be really, really shameful (see Las Vegas, and level of Hell #8). Also, not counting fantasy challenges, no money involved.
4. The Bachelor, The Bachelorette: introduces the intentional manipulation of people and their emotions (I know, I know, boo-fucking-hoo). For a concept driven reality show, these are the most above board as contestants know what they are getting into and, again, no money (except the rock at the end)
5. Fear Factor, Survivor: Contestants do horrible, painful, disgusting things for money and/or fame, but know before hand they will be eating cow scrotum and sharing a toothbrush for 3 weeks.
6.Average Joe, The Littlest Groom: shows throw in unexpected kinks that constitute little lies to the contestant and "surprise" for the viewer. Worse though is the introduction of some faux-moral message about judging appearances that is never actually upheld by the shows content.
7.Joe Millionaire, Playing it Straight, My Big Fat Obnoxious Finance: LIARS
8: Paradise Hotel, Forever Eden: CHEATERS.
9a:I Want a Famous Face, Extreme Makeover: show offers implicit approval for being a total, disturbing head case by giving participants fame on the first show and financial support on the second, without ever addressing underlying and serious psychological issues.
9b. The Swan: exploitation to the extreme. Refers to these women as ugly (though they intentionally gave them all bad hair and no makeup), and then after providing them with plastic surgery and 3 months of beauty pageant "training" has them compete in a head to head battle to determine who's prettiest, because clearly, they are secure enough to withstand judgment about their appearance.

WooHoo!

I want my napster back.