If you need a friend
A buddy, a pal
A chum steady and true
If you need a laugh
If you need a song
I know where to find a few
If you need an ear
to chew for a year
just keep me well-fed
If you want a hug
If you'd like to cry
Come lay down your head
If you need to run
or climb a tree
i'll beat you to the top
If it's excess you want
or serenity
i'll not be the one to cry stop
If you have a secret
If you fear a scandal
What, you're republican? Queer?*
If you need to get drunk
and forget the world
i'll nurse my half a beer
If you want to be saints
or stir up some shit
show me where to sign
If you need a cock
for an hour or two
you can borrow mine**
If you don't know who
or what you are
If you want to just feel free
If you're at your worst
don't run away
Next time it might be me
*use substitutions as needed
**"cunt" or "minute" are appropriate substitutions
Thursday, June 13, 2013
"BSG: Blood & Chrome"
BATTLESTAR GALACTICA: BLOOD & CHROME ***
-created by michael taylor and david eich
2012
Set ten years after CAPRICA and forty before BSG, the story follows the first military mission of William Adama, in the first war against the cylons. As an over-achieving recruit, Adama is chagrined to be assigned a "milk run", far from the action. There are a myriad of secrets and misdirections about to be exposed, though. The film is visually breathtaking, and the action breakneck. Perhaps more attention to character might have been a good thing...with the exception of Adama, one doesn't care greatly about anyone. Eich was the co-creator of the BSG re-boot, but character may have been more the realm of his partner Ronald Moore. Or it may just be that the chemistry doesn't quite pop. The story itself is a winner - an overeager young pilot (Luke Pasqualino) partnered with a cynical veteran on his last mission (Ben Cotton), transporting a mysterious, alluring passenger (Lili Bordan). You can see Adama thinking with his little head, not the big one...but Lili comes off flat, like a brilliant foreign actress who is out of her element speaking english. Nonetheless, there's not a production flaw in this gem, and franchise fans will find great satisfaction. There are hat-tips to the classic: for that reason alone, an evening of this and RAZOR would be a lovely ride.
-created by michael taylor and david eich
2012
Set ten years after CAPRICA and forty before BSG, the story follows the first military mission of William Adama, in the first war against the cylons. As an over-achieving recruit, Adama is chagrined to be assigned a "milk run", far from the action. There are a myriad of secrets and misdirections about to be exposed, though. The film is visually breathtaking, and the action breakneck. Perhaps more attention to character might have been a good thing...with the exception of Adama, one doesn't care greatly about anyone. Eich was the co-creator of the BSG re-boot, but character may have been more the realm of his partner Ronald Moore. Or it may just be that the chemistry doesn't quite pop. The story itself is a winner - an overeager young pilot (Luke Pasqualino) partnered with a cynical veteran on his last mission (Ben Cotton), transporting a mysterious, alluring passenger (Lili Bordan). You can see Adama thinking with his little head, not the big one...but Lili comes off flat, like a brilliant foreign actress who is out of her element speaking english. Nonetheless, there's not a production flaw in this gem, and franchise fans will find great satisfaction. There are hat-tips to the classic: for that reason alone, an evening of this and RAZOR would be a lovely ride.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
naked heart
There's a man
on a rock
in a vaccuum
with hard cock
and naked heart
he has no future
he has no past
he just wants to love
There's a man
in a world
of pure perception
synapses that know you
eyes that devour
he is your mirror
he is your blank slate
he just wants to love
There's a man
consecrating your name
calling you home
fanning your flame
making you free
he has no plan
he seeks your song
he just wants to love
on a rock
in a vaccuum
with hard cock
and naked heart
he has no future
he has no past
he just wants to love
There's a man
in a world
of pure perception
synapses that know you
eyes that devour
he is your mirror
he is your blank slate
he just wants to love
There's a man
consecrating your name
calling you home
fanning your flame
making you free
he has no plan
he seeks your song
he just wants to love
Sunday, June 9, 2013
rise
Rise above rocket's glare, rise above tribal stare
Rise above mythological bind, rise above archetypal mind
Rise above silver screen, rise above socio-machine
Rise above parent's dream, immerse in your primal stream
Rise above the joneses, dig inside them boneses
Rise above your wall, free the fear in all
Rise above your idea
of another's idea
of another's idea
of another's idea...
Rise above mythological bind, rise above archetypal mind
Rise above silver screen, rise above socio-machine
Rise above parent's dream, immerse in your primal stream
Rise above the joneses, dig inside them boneses
Rise above your wall, free the fear in all
Rise above your idea
of another's idea
of another's idea
of another's idea...
Saturday, June 8, 2013
"The Break-Up"
-directed by Peyton Reed
2006
This Jennifer Aniston/Vince Vaughn dramedy has a nice premise – instead of ending with boy and girl finally together, it dispenses with all that by the end of the opening titles, and proceeds to the falling apart. Bravo! Now, i’m about to knock this film hugely. I wouldn’t do that if i didn’t have a little respect for it - the creators are not idiots, and they genuinely tried to make a non-idiotic film. But future generations might hold this film up as a crystallization of how our society is so painfully, horrifically dysfunctional with sex and romance. The film's fatal flaw is taking the easy way out – instead of rendering the relationship in realistic shades of grey, they turn Vaughn into a cliché. He’s so irredeemably selfish (and to his charming credit, he almost makes it believable), the only possible resolve is a transformation of his inability to open up to her – which isn’t ridiculous in and of itself, but it takes a complicated issue and turns it into cookie-cutter pop psychology. Beyond that, watching these two fall apart has an utter inevitability to it, when perceived with a clear eye on human nature. No two humans could endure these kinds of stresses without love turning into something like hate (in that respect, the film is quite realistic). The two of them live together - in scene after scene, the door shuts with them alone in their gilded cage. Their mutual isolation is almost visceral…and in an environment like that, OF COURSE the things that annoy each other get magnified a million times. OF COURSE they break up – anyone would, and that should be the message of the movie. In a society that had any sense, these two would never be allowed to have almost ALL of their self-worth defined by each other, with almost no escape from the presence of each other. But that’s who we are, that’s what we do. The only other thing worth mentioning is the luminous talent of John Michael Higgins (BEST IN SHOW, A MIGHTY WIND). The original ending was a performance of “The Rainbow Connection”, by his character’s a capella group. Higgins arranged it himself. It’s pure brilliance.
2006
This Jennifer Aniston/Vince Vaughn dramedy has a nice premise – instead of ending with boy and girl finally together, it dispenses with all that by the end of the opening titles, and proceeds to the falling apart. Bravo! Now, i’m about to knock this film hugely. I wouldn’t do that if i didn’t have a little respect for it - the creators are not idiots, and they genuinely tried to make a non-idiotic film. But future generations might hold this film up as a crystallization of how our society is so painfully, horrifically dysfunctional with sex and romance. The film's fatal flaw is taking the easy way out – instead of rendering the relationship in realistic shades of grey, they turn Vaughn into a cliché. He’s so irredeemably selfish (and to his charming credit, he almost makes it believable), the only possible resolve is a transformation of his inability to open up to her – which isn’t ridiculous in and of itself, but it takes a complicated issue and turns it into cookie-cutter pop psychology. Beyond that, watching these two fall apart has an utter inevitability to it, when perceived with a clear eye on human nature. No two humans could endure these kinds of stresses without love turning into something like hate (in that respect, the film is quite realistic). The two of them live together - in scene after scene, the door shuts with them alone in their gilded cage. Their mutual isolation is almost visceral…and in an environment like that, OF COURSE the things that annoy each other get magnified a million times. OF COURSE they break up – anyone would, and that should be the message of the movie. In a society that had any sense, these two would never be allowed to have almost ALL of their self-worth defined by each other, with almost no escape from the presence of each other. But that’s who we are, that’s what we do. The only other thing worth mentioning is the luminous talent of John Michael Higgins (BEST IN SHOW, A MIGHTY WIND). The original ending was a performance of “The Rainbow Connection”, by his character’s a capella group. Higgins arranged it himself. It’s pure brilliance.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
floridyllic...
Sand, mangroves, water, warmth...
I must be on the Gulf of Mexico.
After a decade in the concrete jungle and a spiritual journey that left me too emotionally vulnerable for my own good, i come to Estero Island for healing. Battered, hypersensitive to my own pain and the loneliness, anger, and fear that emanates from all those around us...undertouched, underloved, and in a mild depression...i come to this familiar shore.
Before going to Nuevo York, i lived in these semi-tropical parts for eight years. I took care of my grandmother, became a working actor, and founded a couple edgy theaters.
By beautiful chance, i'm in the very same little apartment in which i last lived. On a canal, 150 feet from the beach. In the home of two dear friends who went north for the summer shortly after i arrived, i now keep company with a brimming host of fauna. On any given day, you might meet lizards, pelicans, ibis, heron, egret, seagulls, crows, and squirrels. Possibly a snake. A crab on the dock. The occasional periplaneta americana. A two-foot iguana. Or Norman, the baby osprey! He and his mother share a nest here...you should see him wiggle his head at me.
I trim trees. I eat the coconuts that thud startlingly to the ground. I spend more of my life naked, than not. The rainy season has arrived, and when the storms whip in, you might find me on top of the third floor roof. Most days, i walk out to the beach to drink in the lithium sunset.
Such beauty. Such peace.
In the interest of full disclosure, i should also mention that this island is, by any reasonable standard, "overdeveloped"...which is probably what anyone in this country not in the "1%" can expect. When's that non-violent revolution coming? Estero Island might also laughingly (and with truth) be named "Booze Beach"...the #1 local diversion is varying levels of self-medicating inebriation.
How is my new home different? In New York, i got called "young man" once or twice a year - here, once or twice a week. In Florida, they don't wear bike helmets or underwear. I embraced one of these changes the very first day, the other i still resist.
Not everything is perfect...the person i most dreamed of when i came here, with whom i imagined finally reaping the fruits of full friendship i'd been carefully sowing for over a decade, is in a spiritual shambles. Turning to alcohol to escape from the misery of hormonal love addiction modified by the jealous possessiveness our society attaches to romance, she's incapable of offering me even the most simple human compassion. That same darkness is keeping her ex, another with whom i'd hoped to share all the comforts of friendship, in anti-social squalor as well.
But i'm breathing. Alive.
On most days, i no longer feel the stress-related stomach unease that has been my companion for many months. In truth, a tiny part of me had wondered whether i were coming here to die. Whether the genie i had let out of the bottle could never be returned.
But even in the midst of crashing disappointment, i've learned something immeasurably important. Living with my zombie-like friend for a week, so close to hope i could touch it, my sleep became markedly restored from the interruption and insomnia of the past year.
Healing is possible...for me anyway.
I know the barrier that stands between anyone and true health, in this broken society. After food and shelter, our most basic needs are love, touch, and laughter. In this society, all you'll find are negotiation, personal space...and laughter.
That laughter will be lacking in quantity, however, and colored by our deprivations.
But desperate laughter is better than none at all.
Bad touch is better than none at all.
And the hope for love is almost as powerful as the real thing.
There is hope. For me, and for all of us.
Norman thinks so, too.
I must be on the Gulf of Mexico.
After a decade in the concrete jungle and a spiritual journey that left me too emotionally vulnerable for my own good, i come to Estero Island for healing. Battered, hypersensitive to my own pain and the loneliness, anger, and fear that emanates from all those around us...undertouched, underloved, and in a mild depression...i come to this familiar shore.
Before going to Nuevo York, i lived in these semi-tropical parts for eight years. I took care of my grandmother, became a working actor, and founded a couple edgy theaters.
By beautiful chance, i'm in the very same little apartment in which i last lived. On a canal, 150 feet from the beach. In the home of two dear friends who went north for the summer shortly after i arrived, i now keep company with a brimming host of fauna. On any given day, you might meet lizards, pelicans, ibis, heron, egret, seagulls, crows, and squirrels. Possibly a snake. A crab on the dock. The occasional periplaneta americana. A two-foot iguana. Or Norman, the baby osprey! He and his mother share a nest here...you should see him wiggle his head at me.
I trim trees. I eat the coconuts that thud startlingly to the ground. I spend more of my life naked, than not. The rainy season has arrived, and when the storms whip in, you might find me on top of the third floor roof. Most days, i walk out to the beach to drink in the lithium sunset.
Such beauty. Such peace.
In the interest of full disclosure, i should also mention that this island is, by any reasonable standard, "overdeveloped"...which is probably what anyone in this country not in the "1%" can expect. When's that non-violent revolution coming? Estero Island might also laughingly (and with truth) be named "Booze Beach"...the #1 local diversion is varying levels of self-medicating inebriation.
How is my new home different? In New York, i got called "young man" once or twice a year - here, once or twice a week. In Florida, they don't wear bike helmets or underwear. I embraced one of these changes the very first day, the other i still resist.
Not everything is perfect...the person i most dreamed of when i came here, with whom i imagined finally reaping the fruits of full friendship i'd been carefully sowing for over a decade, is in a spiritual shambles. Turning to alcohol to escape from the misery of hormonal love addiction modified by the jealous possessiveness our society attaches to romance, she's incapable of offering me even the most simple human compassion. That same darkness is keeping her ex, another with whom i'd hoped to share all the comforts of friendship, in anti-social squalor as well.
But i'm breathing. Alive.
On most days, i no longer feel the stress-related stomach unease that has been my companion for many months. In truth, a tiny part of me had wondered whether i were coming here to die. Whether the genie i had let out of the bottle could never be returned.
But even in the midst of crashing disappointment, i've learned something immeasurably important. Living with my zombie-like friend for a week, so close to hope i could touch it, my sleep became markedly restored from the interruption and insomnia of the past year.
Healing is possible...for me anyway.
I know the barrier that stands between anyone and true health, in this broken society. After food and shelter, our most basic needs are love, touch, and laughter. In this society, all you'll find are negotiation, personal space...and laughter.
That laughter will be lacking in quantity, however, and colored by our deprivations.
But desperate laughter is better than none at all.
Bad touch is better than none at all.
And the hope for love is almost as powerful as the real thing.
There is hope. For me, and for all of us.
Norman thinks so, too.
"Caprica"
2009-2010
This prequel to the 2004 reboot of BSG didn't survive into a second season. And it's understandable why - for a long stretch, the show loses its sharpness. Set fifty years prior, the main characters are daniel graystone (eric stoltz - MASK, PULP FICTION), a caprican scientist whose company invents the cylons, and joseph adama (esai morales - LA BAMBA, NYPD BLUE), a tauron lawyer, and father of william adama. The acting is fine, the visuals delightful. Genre fans will love the appearances by lesser BSG alum, plus teryl rothery (STARGATE SG-1), james marsters (BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER), and christopher heyerdahl (STARGATE: ATLANTIS). The show finally pulls out of its mid-season mush with something approximating a vengeance - watching the first five and last five episodes might leave you irked at yet another bungling network axe job.
This prequel to the 2004 reboot of BSG didn't survive into a second season. And it's understandable why - for a long stretch, the show loses its sharpness. Set fifty years prior, the main characters are daniel graystone (eric stoltz - MASK, PULP FICTION), a caprican scientist whose company invents the cylons, and joseph adama (esai morales - LA BAMBA, NYPD BLUE), a tauron lawyer, and father of william adama. The acting is fine, the visuals delightful. Genre fans will love the appearances by lesser BSG alum, plus teryl rothery (STARGATE SG-1), james marsters (BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER), and christopher heyerdahl (STARGATE: ATLANTIS). The show finally pulls out of its mid-season mush with something approximating a vengeance - watching the first five and last five episodes might leave you irked at yet another bungling network axe job.
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