I just bought 500 Q-Tips

Note to self... 12/4/07. I want to see how long it takes me to go through these.

The lack

For those who still check in... from time to time. From time to time, allow me to say that having a child and having a second on the way means you have to prioritize you time, so talking about Leonard's birthday party, talking about Turkey day, I just have the time. The birthday party was the best part of October, especially considering.

I feel like I need to make quality time for the blog. fortunately I don't have to worry about that with the wife. As of yet.

Not Particularly insightful

But it's shocking to think we live in a world where people are questioning if waterboard is torture. On a every plane of existence, the very practice is designed to be torture. How is this even a question? Oh yeah, cause if it is torture than our president is a liar. This reign is almost over. Thank god. I hope it gets better.

My Father's Funeral

It made me weep. Partly because there were so few mourners who knew my father. Maybe five people of the group (besides the family) could call themselves friends. It was pathetic, in its way. My son behaved accordingly. The wife was fine, though she has begun to show. In my way I couldn't be happier, it deflected attention. My wife and my son and I got my mom's room for the days we were there. My family and my brother got in within a ten minute span, which is impressive. Aili went to bed early, though Len and Len got some time together. But, being the brother I am, on Wednesday we stayed up until 7 am. My mom and my wife spent most of Thursday together, and me and my wife went out Thursday night with old friends. I got drunk, she drived. The funeral was hard, but at least I've got my family with me.

It's still hard. But I've got a new infatuation with my wife, and it's scary and exciting. I didn't know you got this over and over. So exciting.

I am the #2 Houx on Google

I am also around, but kids, man. It's mellowed me.

In which I engage in Nostalgia, but feel little shame about it.

My Week is fucked

I have accomplished little this week. I have drank on many nights. My wife has been understanding. But it hurts that both she and her mom want to keep Lee away from me when I'm like that. Makes me want to stop, but I needed the anesthetic. I'm not sleeping well unless I drink heavy. Which means Aili's not sleeping well. It's hard. She holds me most nights when I get into bed. She took Thursday and Friday off. We watched Big Fish, which turns out to be terrible. Wish I knew that when I first saw it and it kicked my ass. We're going to watch The Fountain this weekend. Should be great!

I've been there for my mom. At first it took a day or two for the numbness to break. I'm feeling sort of better, but I'm still raw and jangly.

The Freedom of Grief

I have been taking it easy for the last couple. I went out with some friends after a screening of Blade Runner today. We went to a bikini bar. It would be called a tittie bar if LA allowed for nudity and booze to mix. My good friend Devin encouraged me to fuck a non-stripper. The fucked up thing about being aware is that you know you can take advantage of your grief. You both want and don't want to. My wife would probably forgive infidelity at this juncture. But maybe she wouldn't. I think I would love her more if she didn't. But I won't. On call sex is pretty awesome. Kid #2 will be interesting. I think I'm going to have to tie my tubes soon.

I lost my father

Last night the wife and I went out dancing. Her mother is still with us, and so we were out until last call. We went home, and, well it's dancing, we were rared and ready to go. I couldn't rouse myself until 11:30.

I finally talked to my mom around 12:30 to find out that my father died this morning. You expect some sort of emotional something. A physical shift. There is nothing. Strange. I guess it takes time or being around a body. Now it's just a notion, a notion I was familiar with since my father told me at the dinner table, when the strokes started. I think it was post college, in the months after where I was staying home before moving in with some musicians. My mom, father and myself were having dinner. My father lost his latest job, and we were aware of his medical condition. Things were getting worse with him. At dinner we asked my father what he wanted to do with his life. If he had said "I wanna rock!" I would have been overjoyed. Instead he told us all he wanted to do in life was die. Shortly thereafter he had a minor stroke and so we rushed him to the hospital. I would like to think that that was the impetus to get the fuck out of my parents' house. Though I think it had more to do with pussy. As most things do.

I think about watching The Royal Tennenbaums. I think it's been long enough, but I fear it will be a formality. An attempt to feel something my reviving old emotions. We shall see. My wife rushed to the store in the interim and got a home pregnancy test. We've got a second bun in the oven. I think we both knew before today, but I can't blame her for trying to counterbalance. When I'm done with this my wife promised me a blow job. We'll see if I can make it.

A short film I did is online!

Damon Houx's B&W silent short

Dan Sanderson | Myspace Video
Huzzah!

Lazy Sunday

Good Cronenberg films make you want to fuck. Well, that's not always true, but when my briefly tortured relationship with my wife began we saw A History of Violence. How we did not fuck when that movie was over is kinda beyond me. Except it isn't, I'm a deeply reticent man. It's my curse.
But EASTERN PROMISES is limp-dicked DC. I was talking about this with Beaks yesterday, and I think the film would have been better if the journal Naomi Watts gives Armin Mueller Stahl implicated his competitors, therefor making Watts morally culpable in something vs. giving the diary to the man to which the diary becomes his downfall. Viggo is great, but the main story is not the focus of the plot, which leaves the film feeling limp. Which is too bad as we had an extra hour on the babysitter and I would have loved to have nasty Cronenberg-fueled sex with the wife.

Today we're up to nothing. Been doing more yardwork. It's okay. Hitting my zen on it.

Nothing like a funeral to find out who misses you

The DVD Journal is no more. Last Thursday we had a bit of a celebration, many of the core group there for the final sort of party for it all. The editor, Alexandra du Pont, D.K. Holm, myself, Dawn Taylor, and Scott Anderson, all regulars over the nine year run of the website, all critical members of the core group. Others, those who've moved away from Portland, or were never there to begin with were there in spirit like Yoda at the end of Return of the Jedi. Funny that it should all end at the Aalto Lounge. Funny. Funny because that's where it began for me in the winter of 2000.

Sometime in 1998 my brother was working at Powell's with D.K. One afternoon I was in the bookstore, and spotted Doug at an info counter and chatted his ear off for a good hour. I was there to pick up an R. Crumb book I had recently read about, and that helped cement our now-decade long friendship, as did a piece Doug wrote about me in The Portland Mercury. Doug used to have something of a roundtable back in the old days of Portland journalism, back when he wrote for the Willamette Week. Sometime after we started hanging out, and after his kindly assistance in ushering me into the Portland critic scene, the table began anew, and continued frequently until I left Portland.

This used to happen at Berbati's, and as I made my segue into film buying, sometimes - actually most times after work on Thursdays - I would saunter on down to join Doug, and a collection of people, some critics, others friends, who would join us for a night of spirited discussion. Around this time as well, the TV show DK did - originally with Pat Holmes, then with Kerry Fall and myself - was shooting at Berbati's as well.

Doug was looking for a DVD player at some point in either late 99, or early 2000. He was to review Bringing Out the Dead for the J, and didn't have the player yet. I think I helped him get his player, and got it set up - I'm not sure any more. This helped alert me to the J, which I knew was located out of Portland, but hadn't read as much as DVD File or The Digital Bits. Mostly because I was more interested in the info of what was coming out than anything else. I was also writing for binaryflix.com, which gave me a number of free DVD's. But after reading the Journal I wanted in. Sometime after Doug moved, we started relocating the roundtable to the Aalto lounge and so the members of the table somewhat shifted. And since the table brought together a number of the writers, eventually the editor joined every once in a while. It was there I met him, and circled writing for the site. Eventually, one night, after many drinks, I finally put my cards on the table, and he suggested I write something for free. I wrote a couple like that, and was then brought on.

The editor edited. For Binary, no one touched my prose, which was - to put it nicely - early. To look at some of that stuff now, even though I have also adopted a more personal first person voice for much of my other (non-screenplay) writing, mastering the Journal's third person tone was hard, and something I struggled with for much of the run. I knew a lot about movies, still do, but even as an English major, I never knew much about the nuts and bolts of writing. And so for much of my journey through the J I learned about writing. How to construct sentences, how not to be too redundant, how to use sentences to make my point as much as the words. Things I may have intuited but did not understand. I never had that sort of technical mind. And so I learned much over the years.

At some point my role shifted. I knew more about the tech specs than many of the writers, and so I wheedled my way into a position as the managing editor, trying to catch typos and spec errors. Every Sunday I would spend a good couple of hours (after having finished my writing) pouring over the reviews that were, more often than not, some of the best reviews on the internet. And being there meant the editor had someone to bounce ideas off of, and occasionally listen to the gripes that come with dealing with so many writers, and all their bad habits (I was chewed out more than once for some poorly worded prose, lashings I took with a certain sadomasochistic pleasure as I knew I would learn something from them).

When pushed I could actually write some pretty okay stuff. One of the first ones I wrote that was something that gave me positive feedback was Mulholland Dr. I had fun tearing into bad movies, and one of the best tear jobs was beating up on Pearl Harbor. I really enjoyed writing at length about Tarantino's films, and so Pulp Fiction will always be a personal favorite as will my works on Kill Bill: Vol. 1 and Kill Bill: Vol. 2, which were later published in a book. I also loved writing about Melville and so Le Cercle Rouge and Le Samouraï are also faves. Writing about great films also got me going so The Band Wagon, La Dolce Vita, and Seven Samurai have a special place in my heart.

I think my favorite will always be Straw Dogs, though. I really worked hard on that one, felt like I got to something there.

The rhythm was developed, discs were gotten each week, I was also made courier at some points, and a weekly routine was established. I moved from a basement apartment to my own home, and was able to bring Clarence Beaks on to the team. But, as the editor put it "our own world has changed in the past decade as well, with marriages, children, new homes, career changes, and various other things that happen to sensible people when the subtle business of adulthood creeps up on them unawares." In 2004, I moved to Los Angeles and got a new job, in 2005 I met a girl and got married, and last year I had a kid and bought a home - such describes my life perfectly. With my move the round table stopped happening (as I've been told), but the site soldiered on. Thoughas long as I've been writing for the J, the editor has been threatening to quit - or at least for the last five years. It was "too much work," but he (like myself) has never been one to just sit around, and so now he does other things.

Some may ask "So did you bone Du Pont?" The answer is, sadly, no. We joked about that on my return, as I'm now married. It was always weird. She was usually in and out of relationships, and it never clicked. She's happy where she is, and vice versa. Though because she's kept to herself and is kinda "mysterious" I could probably get away with saying I did. Though, honestly, I was never her type.

The DVD Journal was a labor of love. and visiting the front page now, it's nice to know that people will miss it.

Oh, Jesus

I was in Portland for six days. Left Wednesday morning, got in Tuesday morning. Aili picked me up. I was playing with her in the car, to the point that she told me to stop. And she was playing with me. We sent her mom to walk Lee as soon as we got home. She took the day off. We've been listening to Patton Oswalt a lot, so when we finished, and she said "You came in my brain, there's no way I'm not pregnant" I thought it was pretty funny. But she's not been on the pill for a while, so we'll see what happens. We've talked about a second, and now would be the time.

But, seriously, fucking six days, staying at my mom's house, I came home with a loaded gun. Jesus. Tonight might also produce a baby, we shall see. We're both drinking wine at this point.

Also, I'm in Portland

Or have been for the last couple. My brother's leaving for London, so I'm here. There was some talk, but it was decided since Leonard's moving to London, we'll make a round trip of it in the future (that being a year or so). So I'm here, and have been working from Portland for the last week. I leave tomorrow.

We went out dancing last night and a girl gave me her number. Heh.

The DVD Journal stuff

• Clambake
• Fail Safe (2000)
• The First Films of Samuel Fuller: Criterion Eclipse Series
• Follow That Dream
• Frankie and Johnny
• Inland Empire
• Kid Galahad
• Tickle Me
• Unaccompanied Minors

More on the Journal and Samuel Fuller later this week.

Something I did for Myspace that I find funny... Guess the show.

Jerry: Every single time I log in, there's some band or woman trying to add me.
George: So have you added them?
Jerry: I like the MYspace illusion of friendship more. I'd rather it be people that I'm MySpace friends with. It's like a real friendship except without the work. If I look at their blog or profile every once in a while, it's like I know something about them without having to have participated in their life. So when I do see them I can say "Hey, so you dated that girl with one arm who who was a vegan.That must have been interesting."
George: See, Jerry, I add as many as I can so people think that I have more friends. They only look at your top eight.
Jerry: It's like the illusion of popularity.
George: People don't scroll past your top friends if they can help it. Obviously if a chick looks at all of them I'm screwed, but for most people.
Jerry: You look like the king of the party!
George: Exactly, Jerry! It's like, I've discovered a whole new venue to appear important through no effort whatsoever.
Jerry: No effort whatsoever!
George: If someone sees that I have 498 friends they'll think I'm the life of the party.
Jerry: But do you have a slut contingency plan?
George A slut contingency plan?
Jerry: if you get busted.
George: I'll tell them I worked for a short time as an editor in the adult film industry.
Jerry: Brilliant!
George: Brilliant! The Costanza mind knows how to deal with such contingencies.
Jerry: But what about the bands?
George: I worked for the Yankees, as if being a concert promoter is all that far out of reach?
Jerry: You haven't just jerry-rrigged MySpace, you've Gerrycostanza'd it.
George: For this. For this, I am a god of the myspace.
Jerry: So when's your first Myspace date?
George: Well, there's this one girl. She looks cute, but the pictures...
Jerry: Let me guess, all weird angles?
George: But she has REALLY GOOD TASTE.
Jerry: I'm sure that'll make up for it.
George: For what?
Jerry: Certain angles, you may have a secret fatty.
George: WHAT'S A SECRET FATTY?
Jerry: You don't know about the secret fatties?
George: I NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE SECRET FATTIES!

It's been a long time, I shouldn't left you, without a dope rhyme to step to

Alpha Dog
Ball of Fire
A Bullet For Joey
Duck You Sucker!
Les Enfants Terribles
A Fistful of Dollars
For a Few Dollars More
La Jetée/Sans Soleil
Late Ozu
Letters from Iwo Jima
Norbit
Sansho the Bailiff
S*P*Y*S
Straight Time
Tom Goes to the Mayor: The Complete Series

Cheap laugh.... for me

I'm Simpsonized

As my wife turned to me

She said "You're the best dancer here."

Such was the scene tonight. I'd feign some modesty, if A) my wife hadn't made it plain I'm the better dancer of the two of us (though she's a wizard in the sack) and B)anyone out last night was interested in dancing.

Where was I?

After my Father-in-law's passing, my mom in law decided she needed to stay with us for a couple of months. Now my mom is also asking for the same privilege. I like our home, but being so close to a parent is weird, cause I like to fuck. Even in Burbank, there's generally only one floor in a house around here. So the near-mom is not all that far away from us (though Lee is our room, usually). But, at the same time, I now have a co-conspirator to raise my son. This is great, and with a Finnish nanny, when I say "Oh fuck, god damn it, shit" when - say - Lee accidentally gives my nuts a what for, I get no flack. I guess my mom is coming to stay with us in about two months, and I'm cool with that, but she's a little more flesh and blood. I don't want to have a convo with my mom about my fucking habits. With my wife back at work, and now with a go-to nanny, we've decided that we owe ourselves Friday and Saturday nights, so after tucking Lee in, we go out dancing. Sometimes we get an hour in, other nights we get out by 10:30, it all depends. But me and the wife have been dancing alot, and being tired is part of the game.

But tonight it was bad. Though I was always get hit on. Which is nice, the wife finds it amusing. At least. And she fucked me when we got home. So I win.

Best of last year/I AM PROM KING

1) United 93
2) Pan's Labyrinth
3) Children of Men
4) Little Children
4) The Host
5) Miami Vice
6) Brick
7) The Fountain
8) The Black Dahlia
9) The Prestige
10) Science of Sleep

Best movie (period) released in America in 2006:Army of Shadows

I have found a park to play with my kid. I have found a park to pay with my kid that has other stay at home parents. I have found a park to pay with my kid that has other stay at home parents who are almost all women. I have found a park to pay with my kid that has other stay at home parents who are almost all women who stare at me. . . ...

Simon Pegg's background dance makes me laugh like nothing else.

I'm an asshole

Everyone, everyone, deals with grief differently.

That said, I worry that we as a society are too often coddling in our attitude towards death, but the world has changed so much over the last hundred years. Man doesn't have much a of the same relationship towards death as it had to have not but a century ago.

Part of this is based on backgrounds and belief systems. As someone with rather agnostic to atheistic bent, I have come to some sort of peace with this being all there is. Plus, with my father as sick as he is, I've come to peace with my family dying. But when a friend was suggesting that he was sad his father died when he was in his fifties, and that his grief over the loss was still palpable, I had to bite my tongue.

I remember talking about it, almost a decade ago, about my father's illness to David Walker and he told me how his dad was dead by the time he was three, if my memory serves. His response was that I was lucky for the time I had. I don't know if that can make anything better, but everyone has different griefs for different reasons, but there's always someone with a hard luck story that is worse than yours. My attitude is amsot aggressively zen about it, though. PErhaps that's my way of dealing with it.

The world is bigger than you, Damon.

Then again, I read something about someone who died today at the age of 31 and it made me happy that I was married because if I die, someone will at least find me within 24 hours.

E.D.

So this weekend, we had a date night. We went out for dinner and then some dancing. The funny thing about date night as adults with a baby, we had to have sex beforehand. Cause we knew we'd be out late, so when the babysitter sets the time limit at 1:30 a.m., that could not be avoided. And so beforehand after dropping Lee off at our neighbor's house at about seven (they love taking him, but we don't ask but once every two months or so, they're older and have kids out of the house so I think they think it's fun) we headed back to "get dressed." The wife will sometimes say stuff like that laying the "we're going to go fuck" intimation on a little thick. I prefer just bald face lying.

But now I'm on new meds, and these have side effects that were heretofore unknown, cause we haven't been fucking as much cause of the depression. And the wife was horny. I could take care of some of that, but when it came to my turn, as it were, a lot of flopping around. But, to give this story a half-happy ending, with patience you can get off without getting fully erect. Who knew? Today I got the next set of meds to try. Fortunately I was at least able to make jokes about it, though some, admittedly, hit close to home. "Great, another thing to get depressed about." Depression is supposedly clinical. I don't know if I believe it.But these last meds, other than working like Salt peter, did repress some of these nasty thoughts I've been having. And... man, I was sleeping fucking great. But I like having boners, so out they go. So sorry. Ive got to detox these last ones, and start the new ones this weekend. AWESOME.

The dancing was fun though, once I got my groove back. As a couple Aili and I have this weird mixture of feelings. We still want to do things like this because we feel it is appropriate. And yet we have a kid. It's weird being out. I was able to watch a dozen interactions. I kept my wife abreast of what I was tracking, when we weren't having drinks (me water, it was her night to cut loose, as it were, though I did have one beer, and a sip of her apple martini). I had Salmon. I'm trying to eat more fish. Ive been exercising more and trying to eat better. But around ten we hit the dance floor,and stuff slowly started to happen. You've got the drunk boys, the girls with their purses who stand-dance in the middle of the floor (fuck you, by the way), the hipster kids who want to breakdance, the way too inebriated, the group of friends out celebrating something - flashing their flash cameras, and the girls getting drunk and looking to get schtupped....

Which led to this conversation on the drive home:
- You saw that she went for the black guy.
- I know! Is that racist?
- On whose part?
- Me saying "I know!" Well, I saw one guy who hit on her and missed, and another guy she was kinda making eyes at and bumping into.
- She wanted to fuck him.
- You think?
- A girl doesn't accidentally bump into a guy four or five times, no matter how drunk. She was also doing the "I'm dancing like a lesb with my other straight femme friend" thing.
- Aili, tell me you never did that.
- Once or twice. When I was younger.
- Look, I hate fashionable lesbianism. I just do. Just as I hate Girls Gone Wild. And, is it Brandon Davis? I hate him.
- You would totally have a three-way with me and a hot chick.
- That's dif... No. Actually, no. I love you too much.
- Aw.
- Why, would you?
- No.
- I mean I guess you could make it work, it might be fun, or whatever. But no interest.
- Well, I suggest we never talk about this again.
- Fair enough.
- Besides, it's not like my...
- Look, Damon, please, stop joking about it.
- I'm sorry, I'm just trying to deal with the fact that my junk isn't working properly.
- If its me...
- No, the doc said this might be a side effect, so, he was right. Fuck me in a week, I swear, I'll be raring to go.

And on and on. Some real pathos up in this bitch. Hopefully by Saturday, my junk will be back in working order, and I won't worry about all the things that I've been stressing on lately.

Reviewin'

Army of Shadows: The Criterion Collection
La Haine: The Criterion Collection
The Hitcher (2007)
The Painted Veil

How I know the meds don't work

Last night I couldn't sleep well. I had a dental appointment yesterday, my first in four years. I had a filling fall out a couple months ago, but the months since have been so insanely tight - especially with our emergency trip abroad - and even though we're insured I pushed it off. Also, I was fucking frightened of what horrors my mouth had in store for the dentist. I tried sleeping for a while, got up to write a blog entry and tried again to crash out. Aili was fucking pissed at four, cause it's not like we sleep normally anyway. I told I could sleep on the couch, but that got her even more annoyed. It was cute annoyed. If we didn't have the kid with us, we probably would have fucked. But we were both too tired. And she got to go in late to work so I could go to my appointment. So I go to the dentist, and when I get there I'm practically shaking with nerves. They take 32 X-rays - which did nothing to calm me down - and then I finally get to see the dentist. We look through the pics of my teeth, she inspects my mouth, and there's only one problem - the missing filling. She advises I get a crown, which will cost $275. I think instead I'll go with a filling, even though it won't last as long, simply because the expenditure on our end will only be $40. But hearing all this, my stress levels dropped immediately. Then I got home, the wife took off, and about an hour later, an entirely new paranoia and guilt bumped up the list in my head.

It's like my mind's not happy if I don't feel bad about something right now. Maybe I just wasn't ready to be a father, I don't know. Lee's ready to go back to sleep, so night y'all.

Take a Hike

Ive been taking long walks with Lee during the weekdays, but the wife and I returned to my old stomping grounds in Hollywood to walk around the Bronson Canyon on Saturday. This is all a part of my lame ass fitness plan, though most of the walk is uphill. After our two and a half hour jaunt, yesterday I was planning on taking another long hike, but found that I literally could not. My legs would not allow it. The more I hike, the more I'm getting into the burn factor. And it's fucking me up. You grow to like the pain, cause it makes you feel better about yourself.Hopefully I'll be able to swing over that way tomorrow.

Dealing with bad Juju

When I get too much coffee, I get depressed. Generally, when that happens I reflect on every single stupid thing I've done and been called out on. As an outgoing personality I know that I rub some people the wrong way, but as a writer I try to understand and intuit other people's emotions, rightly or wrongly. Though I don't think I have a lot of things in that closet, the ones that bug me have bugged me forever. I remember cracking wise to a teacher about some Jewish holiday when I was in sixth grade, something along the lines of "Do I look Jewish?" And then proceeded to highlight the stereotypes of Jewish people. And she was - of course - Jewish. The funny thing is, I'm not a racist, and I don't know where those stereotypes came from - perhaps from television or a comedian, or perhaps (but doubtful) my father, who wasn't so much a racist as a salesman, and enjoyed lowbrow humor that could revolve around stereotypes. And there are worse things, things that I wish I could apologize for, things that were simple misunderstandings that had less than pleasant outcomes. I hope there's only two or three people in the world who actively hate me. Hopefully less, but I've tried not to fuck anyone over. I have no problems though with people who just don't like me. I think that's fine. Cause vice versa, you know.

But I just watched two movies that made me think about those things. Deliver Us From Evil and Spider-Man 3. In the former there's a priest who has molested approximately 500 kids. And he's all like "Yeah, I'm sorry, can't we move on?" while the victims and their families are still in the grieving process 30 years on. And, of course, SM 3 is about the weight of responsibility and guilt, and it's also not a very good film.

But it strikes me that there are some things that are so bad that - after you've done them - you have to accept, because you have to live with yourself, you just have to disconnect, you have to lose part of your mind. The priest has come to peace with whatever demons he has, because he is who he is. It's all about defining your reality so you can live with yourself. So I feel like you have to hold on to those bad feelings of when you've made social faux-passes, you have to remember how much it hurt to burn your hand on the stove. I've been hurt by other people, but it's always when I'm the one doing the bad thing that sticks with me. I don't give too much of a shit out being hurt in probably the same way I obsess over, then again, I'm a straight white male. And there's nothing very evil in my past, nothing worth going to jail over, but I still have some weight on me. But I think that's part of what makes me a moral person. Or helps me be one. There is a circuitous logic to this, though. I probably feel this way because I have to. Because it's the only way I can live with myself.


This also makes me think that if these two movies can make me think about this, it's time to move on to the next anti-D. I've been told there's a trial and error process.

imokayimokayimokayimokayimokayimokayimokayimokay

Well, we talked about it, and so now I can put it on here. As the primary care giver for Lee, I've been home all the time, and for the last couple of weeks it just gotten to be really depressing. Not just stir crazy, though that was definitely a factor too. So today we went to see a therapist and I'm now on anti depressants. Just for the next couple. The main thing is that the way I was raised there was always a level of autonomy. Now, with a kid, I feel so locked into my life. It's a good and bad thing. But I have been wigging out lately, and so here I am. On drugs.

Reviews for the last couple...

Worth the Time:
The Butcher Boy
Fires on the Plain: The Criterion Collection
Infamous

Rather okay:
Billy Budd
The Burmese Harp: The Criterion Collection
The Charge of the Light Brigade
The Dawn Patrol (1938)
Dive Bomber
Madame Bovary

Eh:
The Journalist and the Jihadi: The Murder of Daniel Pearl
S*P*Y*S
Tom Goes to the Mayor: The Complete Series
Van Wilder 2: The Rise of Taj

Hate:
Alexander Revisited: The Final Cut
Bottom Feeder
Eragon: Special Edition
Turistas

OfF Duty Tonight!

Got to hang with friend tonight. We got drunk. I got home, drunk, and the wife doesn't want to fuck. What am I going to do. I didn't drive. Very nice. Will need to sleep it off tonight. Off baby duty for the next twelve hours. Will have to sober up by then. Watching The Wire. J stuff from the last shortly.

Question

Has Quentin Tarantino made a film that has felt 9/11? I don't know if that matters, though. What's more interesting is that Martin Scorsese has not.

2+1-1 Stories of awesome

My brother told me a story a long time ago about how someone, when he went to Middle School, showed up for the first day of class dressed as a Ghostbuster. My brother then saw him a couple years alter, and all he could think of to say is "What's up, Ghostbuster!" Cause that guy never was any more or less than that embarrassing incident.

Which makes me think that in my Freshman year of High School, I had an I KILLED LAURA PALMER shirt, to which a senior later made a shirt that read I KILLED DAMON HOUX. Which may have been my Ghostbusters moment.

My brother said to me the other day that I can get away with hugging someone I don't know, and it's funny because that's something I've done for comedic effect more than once (when I was in London I hugged Edgar Wright... for jokes, mostly). And I realized recently that because of who I am, if I just showed up some place with a bunch of friends dressed as a Ghostbuster, I think people would be cool with it. They'd roll, they'd think I was just being a dick. Which is good and bad.

Writing about Kurt Vonnegut

I feel like everybody's doing this, but I will be short and sweet. He was a great writer, and a great man. Even his lesser novels offered something of worth. But I can't get away from his experiences in Dresden, which informed his writing to its core, much like it did for Sam Fuller.

Few artistic ideas have hit me as hard as Kilgore Trout, in the midst of Breakfast of Champions, realizing that he was just smart enough to realize he was fictional.

The Burbank Blur

I wish I could have you there when I'm taking care of Lee. It's fucking sick. I don't update so much lately. Sorry. Being there with my child is insane.

I'm getting divorced?

Psyche!

It's so hard... to say Goodbye... to Yesterday.

Though it was there Friday night, by Saturday afternoon it was gone, and has not been sighted since. It was a good run, though, almost a full week. And now I'm left with all the memories. If only I had a collection of images to run under a music montage to help me deal with the grief. If only I had more contest entries. Alas. I can dream can't I?


Baby stuff. Keeps you busy. Also I had a huge freak-out last week, just emotionally fragile and all that, paranoia, the worst of it. And then I realized it was because I cut out the caffeine in my life. Again. I had some tea last night, but otherwise, it's been a week of no diet Pepsi. And it's going well, all things.

This shit is boring me. Fucking. Like, lots of it.

Day 3 of Dildo on Day Four

A real rain came yesterday, but it didn't wash the real trash from the streets. Sad. In the greatest way possible.

The Dildo is still there!

BREAKING NEWS!

It is still in the street. Earlier I though it was gone, but it must have been parked over. That, or someone gave it a test run and decided it wasn't to their liking. Or it went for a walk. Really, the possibilities are endless. I tried to take a picture of it, but it was too dark. Day 3 pictures tomorrow if it is still there. Which, fingers crossed, it will be.

This is the greatest thing in the history of the world. The Greatest.

And please, work on your essays/stories/poems/songs/artwork.

Dildo-Gate: Day 2 - The Wife's Reaction

"Jesus, Damon, it's a sex toy. It's not like we don't have any!"
- Aili Houx 3/18/07 4:52 PM

My wife is not as thoroughly amused by this as I am. Then again, emotionally I'm twelve, so it all works out. There were two girls (one smoking) nearby when I spotted it. I wanted to mention it to them, but I had to fight that part of my mind. Still. Here, for you I share. The Dildo.

Entry #1 (with apologies to wcw)

The Black Dildo

so much depends
upon

a black
dildo

flecked with
sand

in an L.A.
gutter

I saw a Dildo in the middle of the street!!!

Enter the Erratic Thriller writing contest! I was walking the kid and saw a dildo lying in the street! I had to take a picture of it. I toook a walk later this evening, and it was still there!

Here it is!


Email me at Damonhoux@yahoo.com and tell me the story of this dildo. All entries will be published, though if my name is used in the story it will likely be changed to your name. Or some famous person.

My snap is all SNAP SNAP SNAP.

If my brother can be critical of my spelling errors on his blog, let me point out that in his latest post Damien Hurst is mispelled Damine Hirst, and also "Or maybe it is just the fact that the dude actually looks like he wear more foundation than Rupaul." There's a missing s in there.

She smells like Sea sex / Home daddy

My first week of solo parenting has gone well. My sleeping pattern is fucked, but otherwise things are going okay. Wifey gets up around sixish, pumps what she's got, tends, gets dressed and heads to work. I wake up with her for a bit, give polite morning kisses (which I'm not crazy about, but you get used to them as a parent), and then go back to sleep until Lee wakes me up whenever. Usually it's about three hours later. I sit with him, do my work, then we take a nice long lunch break. Generally we go for a walk. We'll see how long that lasts. There's a Ralph's nearby, so we sometimes go there, get stuff. Walkable stuff. Get back, do a little bit more work, cradle the baby for a bit, maybe throw on a background movie, and then Aili gets home around seven-ish. I tend to make dinner these days, and I'm getting better as a cook. We allow ourselves a glass of wine. Aili's gotten better about not smoking, but when she drinks too much, it's always a temptation. But we both have to think about Lee, so that's that.

Today Aili sunbathed in our backyard for a couple of hours. Had the iPod on, did a little reading, and sunned. We are two of the whitest people alive, and I mostly burn, but I think, living in California as we do, Aili likes doing this like I enjoyed being in London in the rain. Lee sat with her.

Back to the married kissing thing. When you're in a relationship for a long enough time, make out sessions tend to dry up. About a month back (and Aili and I, for the most part, don't have that much sex. I'm trying to get used to it, as I've essayed previously, but again TMI) we had sex with very little make out foreplay. And it struck me that we slowed that down. Aili said something that turned me on about it, though, she said that at this point, we're so Pavlovianly that a simple touch can get us in the mood, as it were. But I've insisted we have make out sessions some days I think partly cause I feel like I don't want to lose the excitement of it.
And today my wife smell of suntan oils and perfumes, and I got a sunburn. She laughs at this desire, but indulges it often enough. With her going back to the office now, I hope I don't go stir crazy.

C'mon shorty, it(wa)s your birthday

Quentin Tarantino once said of RIO BRAVO "If I'm serious with a girl I show it to her, and she better fuckin' like it." Sunday I showed BALL OF FIRE to my wife. When she started laughing early on, I realized that I stopped being tense. She loved it, but how can you not? (the only answer to this is: if you have no soul). Still, if she didn't, drama.

Yesterday we got a babysitter around noon. We dropped Lee off with our neighbors, the wife sucked out the milk by ten A.M. and essentially had to admit to our neighborfriends that we wanted some alone time. She started getting dressed around three and around four we finally kicked into gear again, and I got dressed for my wife to drive me around. I normally drive, but she had something planned. I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and she was wearing a smoking hot dress, the heels, the make up, the whole thing. She looked stunning. And it was all to take me to the New Beverly to see THE MACK and THE CHINESE MACK. For that my wife is awesome. She also mentioned that I had a "get out of jail free" pass to go to a bunch of these, and said that she wanted everyone to know on my birthday how hot and cool a wife I had.

THE MACK is a fucking entertaining movie, though Tarantino's print is missing a couple of scenes, but all the great lines are in there, like "You hear grown folks talking, you shut the fuck up" or "I'll blow your heart out your body, sucka." Or the tres un-pc "Hey, I don't hafta take this! I'm a rich nigga! I thought you paid these pooh- butts off! You beat walkin' motherfuckers!" The wife fell asleep early on in THE CHINESE MACK, but she woke up for the ending, which has the best death by groin injury scene in the history of cinema. She let me drive us home, and we got back around one-ish. We still had about an hour until I had to mozy over to the neighbors so we were all about a little fool around time, but neither of could stop quoting THE CHINESE MACK's line "Avoid the sins of the flesh!" Turning 31, awesome.

BALL OF FIRE

Sugarpuss: Yes, I love him. I love those hick Shirts he wears, with the boiled cuffs and the way he always has his vest buttoned wrong. He looks like a giraffe and I love him. I love him because he's the kind of guy that drunk on a glass of buttermilk. And I love the way he blushes right up over his ears. I love him because he doesn't know how to kiss, the jerk. I love him.


Betram: I'm just as surprised as you. Marriage? I thought I was married to my books. All I thought I could care for deeply was a correctly constructed sentence. The subject, predicate and verbular clause, each in its proper place. And then you -- You see, I've had rather a curious life. I graduated from Princeton when I was 13, I recited "Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright" when I was a year old. Before I was two I could read fluently. People like that just -- well, you see, dust just pules up on their hearts.

It took you to blow it away.

Sugarpuss: Yeah, but I didn't mean to blow it smack into your eyes.

THIS ENTRY BROUGHT TO YOU BY SEXXXX (the extra three X's are for triple X)

At around 12:01 a.m. The wife emerged. She decided to wear a black wig, with a near Betty Page do. Her face was covered in make up, she did her lips up in bright red, with that outline shit. Her mascara was on. Her eyelids were powdered blue. She wore a black blouse, very tight, and a mini-skirt with nylons and fuck-me pumps. I was watching KNOCK OFF, and she entered the TV room. My wife looked pornographic. She told me not to say anything, but with the week of not fucking, and pheromones being what they are, I must admit I was excited. She unzipped my pants, and began to search in earnest. This had been a coordinated plan of attack. After bending over in my face, she found herself getting on her knees in front of me. She teased me as she moved her hands along my inner thighs. She stared at it, willing it to perform for her.

And then the baby monitor went off. Lee started crying up a storm. It was feeding time, too. Aili had two options, and she went with breast. I went up with her to take care of our kid, but when it was determined that it was a feeding issue, I went back downstairs. Aili came down a couple minutes later. She cuddled up to me and said she tried. Whenever she feeds the baby, I feel like that gives her a boundary of me being sexual with her. Whatever, I don't want to touch her nipples right after she's fed the kid. We fell asleep that way until about an hour ago,when Lee shit himself. When we woke up, half her make up was on my Velvet Underground Banana shirt.

I'm married and I have blue balls. My wife fucking did everything she could to make a special date, and we got fucked. But not literally. Still happy being 31. I'm going to bed.

THIS ENTRY BROUGHT TO YOU BY BOOZE!

Whiskey!

Aili won't have sex with me. Hasn't for the last couple. She wants me to store up for Monday-ish. It's been almost a week. I'm all like, hey what about Sunday round 1am. I'm watching movies. Fucking getting to fucking whatever for the weekend. She's been a part of it for some of it, but she's on baby duty tonight, cause I'm high as a fucking kite. On booze mind you. I'm going to give my wife a five minute thrill ride in less than 24 hours! WOO-HOO! I have a half finished bottle of Makers. The wife had a polite shot. I'm going to watch BALL OF FIRE with her tomorrow at some point. My spelling is fine while I'm drinking. I just wish I could keep my head up better. I'm tempted to work on my latest, but anything I'd write would be useless.

Just ran to the store

Got some supplies. This is my birthday weekend. The wifey is being nice to me, specially since she goes back to work on Tuesday (though she's been putting in a day or two for the last couple). After getting a bottle of Maker's and some Diet Pepsi, and some batteries, I went to the check out, and the couple behind me had one item: a box of condoms. I wanted to applaud. That's some bold shit. But if you want to fuck...

Question for the Ages #4

Do hard core Star Wars nerds coronate their bathrooms The Throne Room?

Also, Jabba's Palace?

Question for the Ages #3

Did Nelson Mandela see Lethal Weapon 2?

If so, did it make him cry?

Me and the Wife in a wife approved picture

That's as good as it gets for now.

Right and Wrong

Got DP wrong cause CoM got the ASC award. Got Foreign wrong, cause obviously the Academy liked the film but wanted to spread the love. Knew Eddie could lose, but was hoping Wells would be disappointed. Knew Departed could get it, but thought the Academy would, as always go Meretricious. Marie got a win I wasn't expecting, though Pan's got three, though not the three I expected. That said, I'm as good as the experts. Who isn't?

Question for the Ages #2

Will Britney Spears's eventual death make the eventual release of her sex tape more or less erotic?

Sax and Violins

I was on the phone with a friend yesterday, and they complained about the upped sexual content. I apologize. I figured out what it was. My day is routine. I get up when the baby needs something (which has become nearly clockworkish), generally crash out (Though sometimes I get online for a bit), get up around 7 or 8, go take a walk to the grocery store, either buy a Diet Pepsi, or get groceries for the day (optional: take the baby with), work for a couple hours and tend to the baby, have lunch with the wife, go back to work, start fixing dinner, eat dinner with the wife, tend to the baby, watch a movie or something we Tivo'd, tend to the baby, maybe get some personal writing done, go to bed. That's been the last four months in a nutshell.

Fucking is the only variable. And then this blog entered into it. And now Aili reads it, and we're using it to get excited about sex. Or she is (note to Aili: SNAP). So o course I write about the least routine thing in my life. Of course I do.

Question for the ages

When you see a smattering of pubic hair in a urinal, do you think it's the day's collection, or that it all comes from one shedder?

My Academy predictions

BEST PICTURE - BABEL - I've got a feeling Little Miss is a little too small, and Departed a little too Genre. Babel may be a little too Crash, but I doubt it.

ACTOR: Forest Whitaker – Cause he's been winning a lot and O'Toole - though heady competition, already has one.

ACTOR -SUPPORTING: Eddie Murphy – Though Jeff Wells may be annoyed, I feel like that Eddie gets it. Though Alan Arkin could sneak in like a thief in the night.

The ZZZZZZZZZZZ (or Duh's)
ACTRESS :Helen Mirren – THE QUEEN
ACTRESS -SUPPORTING: Jennifer Hudson – DREAMGIRLS
SCREENPLAY -- ADAPTED: THE DEPARTED
SCREENPLAY -- ORIGINAL: LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
DIRECTING: THE DEPARTED - As locked up as Mirren's

ANIMATED FEATURE: HAPPY FEET - cause real heads know that Cars was weak shit.

CINEMATOGRAPHY: CHILDREN OF MEN - Cause, how could they not

ORIGINAL SONG - “Listen” – DREAMGIRLS
SOUND MIXING: DREAMGIRLS
COSTUME DESIGN:DREAMGIRLS - Sorry we shut you out.

DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH - We Want Gore!

ART DIRECTION: PAN’S LABYRINTH
MAKEUP: PAN’S LABYRINTH
FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM: PAN’S LABYRINTH - Go Guillermo, go!

ORIGINAL SCORE: BABEL - Spoiler would be Pan's

FILM EDITING: BABEL, THE DEPARTED, or UNITED 93 This makes me completely unsure.

VISUAL EFFECTS: PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN’S CHEST

SOUND EDITING: LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA - I hope you enjoy your consolation prize, Clint

SHORT FILM -- LIVE ACTION
SHORT FILM -- ANIMATED
DOCUMENTARY SHORT - who cares? (cpeting those nominated, and good for you and shit)

Hanging with Sarah again

We had Sarah over last night. The wife is finally adjusting to our friendship. Also, it was an excuse to have my wife have sex with me. Sarah is one of my oldest and dearest friends, so - again - we have this great back and forth. The wife finally got it last night. At bit, or at least she was dipping her toes. Sarah loves Lee. Loves. So, basically, I got laid last night. Yay.

*Hey Aili. How's it going. Yeah, I put it on the blog that we were fucking last night. How you like me now?

My wife and Britney Spears

Hey blog, I'm gaying you up again. Me and the wife have a long standing feud about Spears. I tend to defend her a little, but everything about her behavior for as long as we have been married has riled Aili. I mean, my wife hates Tina Fey, but I get that, I have a mad crush on Fey, and the way she shit-talks her makes it apparent that she's Capital J jealous of her. As HL Mencken once said "a misogynist is a man who hates women as much as women hate each other." Or at least that's my theory about her hate, it's totally an alpha female thing. It's funny cause wife's not really a nerdy girl. Though she does wear contacts (there's talk of lasik) and since we've been really together, she'll wear the glasses more, cause... well, yeah, I like having sex with girls who wear glasses. If the glasses are cute.

But the photos of Spears driving with the baby wrong, and all that shit, has sent my wife into an apolacyptic rages. And that I understood. Now Spears has gone and shaved her head, and when my wife saw that, she described Spears as a really really dumb cunt. Unfortunately this is partly because my wife has had to work with her at the office. But when I saw those pictures of Spears with a shaved head, my reaction was sadness. She's a deeply fucked up young woman, whose grotesque access to illegal drugs, and having (or having had) a lot of money has obviously been ruinous. I just feel bad for her at this point. She's lost whatever mind she had. Then again, the flip side of this is that she might have been working at a KFC until her meth habit caught up with her. She was never going to cure cancer.

Lindsay Lohan, that hate from the wife I get, and when you read about her supposedly doing threesomes... again, after Mean Girls, you figured she had a brain in her body. It's not so much player-hatin' there.

The Queen, or how Helen Mirren killed my Bonercrazy love for her.

I liked THE QUEEN okay. Here's what killed it: I didn't much care for the stag bit, but I get it, it works as a metaphor for her (last of her breed) or Diana (the hunted), whatever. But then to spend so much time establishing who the Queen is, and then to have Blair's character defend her, and then on top of it spell it out at the end makes it kinda ruins the whole thing. But ribbons on top are what get academy nominations, I guess. Mirren deserves her Oscar, and it's a shame Michael Sheen was robbed of his nomination. The film also understand that it's fascinating to watch extraordinary people do mundane things, because it presents the illusion of a window.

Mirren looks a lot like my grandmother in it, though. Since EXCALIBUR, and through such films as AGE OF CONSENT, CALIGULA, and THE COOK, THE THIEF, HIS WIFE AND HER LOVER I've had a thing for her. But dressing like a family member kinda ruins it. Thank god I met Mirren beforehand. I borrowed the DVD from my neighbor. He voted for the film across the board, which I found out after I gave him my verdict. I told him that I liked it a lot, though, so I think that helped.

I gave my wife a new oral trick last night. She's crazy for it. I knew I had to hold some things in reserve. She wanted more of the same tonight. Which I gave her. But I've got to hold some shit in check, and so I have to deny her some things in the future. Variation, you've got to have some things up your sleeve. Speaking of, THE PRESTIGE this weekend.

The Ideology of Writing

Dear Internet,

Hey you. How you doin'? I think it's totally great that you've given a voice to everyone who can fumble around a keyboard. And I think it's great that spell check has become so readily available. And I don't expect everyone who posts to actually have a point, or be coherent, or whatever. But I just read some really bad writing. And hey, I've done some really bad writing (wink wink), I mean I've been online, writing, for almost a decade now. But could I pass this along? You, the collective but not specific You, should have a point if you're going to construct an essay. You build ideas into units. Or you go about scatter-shot making observations, but in a similar vein of thought in the attempt to illuminate. Perhaps your ideas are unfocused, hey that's cool. But every paragraph tells a story. Spice up your words choices. Don't be afraid of using that thesaurus. Something Bobby always taught me: write like you're talking to your friends. Hey, maybe you're just a bad storyteller. Maybe you're not the life of the party. That's cool, that's cool. But maybe this whole blog, internet writing thing, maybe it's a bad idea, yeah?
Just saying, maybe it's not for everyone. I can't be that decider, but let it be known, the price of democracy is stomaching crap.

Love,
D

Ironic Good bad taste, you're dead to me

I was watching Predator the other night for a Q Branch script I'm working on, and I realized how much I love Bill Duke's bugfuck nuts performance. I could say it's a favorite. But nowadays, if I were to make a list and put that performance on it, it would seem like a hipster thing to do, like I wasn't being serious about it, or that I was acknowledging my childhood too much, or whatever. But Duke going bugfuck nuts is surely one of the great pleasures of movie going. Alas, in a culture where people will contrarily defend Alien Vs. Predator, a film with absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever, and with films of my childhood either already canonized or rebelled against, and a population unswayed by contrary opinions on established "classics" (does anyone but the lamest get all persnickety if I said I didn't like The Sound of Music, or Grease, or Gone With the Wind - which even with the later, I will acknowledge isn't a bad film, just not a great one), the shit's worn out. You've got to dig hard to piss people off when talking about an established classic, while still knowing what you're talking about (it's easy to diss Citizen Kane if you're an idiot). I found one that's gotten me into some heated TOP GUN IS GAY type arguments, but it's a fools errand now. Now that people have so little good taste, which is - alas, same as it ever was - but with the dumbing down of our culture fewer adults go to the Gandhi's like they used to. Witness Babel's BO.

Going faster miles an hour... Gonna ride by the Stop-n-Shop ... With the radio on

I have little to no right acting the music snob. I like Liz Phair (though, honestly, being a fan of hers was sexually rewarding several times over in my bachelor days... I dated a stripper because of her, true story) and Journey, unironically.

But I could really give a shit about The Police. And them reuniting. I think I like Sting's solo career a little better, but they strike me as radio music. I don't think I'd turn the channel, but buying a box set or a CD seems ridiculous. It's sorta like U2, though there are a couple of songs of theirs I think are pretty good (and at least one is used brilliantly in FEARLESS). Maybe it's because both Sting and Bono have become such incredible wankers. I'm thoroughly embarrassed that Deborah Harry reunited with Blondie, but I get it. I get the Sex Pistols reunion (though they have about four songs, tops). I get The Pixies reunion. Maybe it's just because I've never felt alot of ownership of their music, or U2, or Led Zepplin or Pink Floyd, even if I've owned a couple of their CD's at one point or another.

Then again, The Police are reuniting on The Grammies. That's like sucking to the third power.

The New Game

I go do something. My wife reads my blog. She then tells me what she thinks. Basically I have two rules about my blog. Rule one is not to piss her off, the second is to not talk about my kid too much. As a parent, all I want to do is talk about my kid. My son. I spend an hour or two daily just making faces at him. An hour. Or two. A day. I still get chills when he grabs my fingers, and I feel like I've got diaper changing down. Which is good cause the wife's going to heading back to her day job, basically the day after my birthday. We already do practice runs of my days. When people call, it's always about 80% babytalk. They could call to tell me they just got fired, 80% babytalk. They could call to tell me my house is on fire, 80% babytalk. Then again, at this age, what else is there for us to do but look after him. And I watch movies with him. But as I write reviews I could do the review I write that pretendsto be objective, and then what amounts to the now Pavlovian attachment I have to certain films. Lee (as he got nicknamed in Finland) hated, absolutely couldn't stand Symbiopsychotaxiplasm. Now... I gave the film a mixed review. Did I view it objectively objectively? But he loves the Bond movies. don't get it. Even Tomorrow Never Dies. Slept through Science of Sleep (which counts as a good, sorta).

See my point? But anyway, my wife reads my blog now all the time. She prods me when I don't update. She loves reading it. She likes it more than the last two scripts I wrote. And so you may have noticed some things I've posted about our sex life, and shit like that. Honestly, I should say this cause it's only fair to my other readers, that most of that has been code for her.

This morning, I go out to get a light walk in, and grab the one liter or Diet Pepsi that I allow myself, and I come back and she fucking jumps on me. I knew she read it. Then she basically said that the reason our relationship worked is cause she juked me into marrying her. That she knew the only way to get our relationship to work was to marry me first and make me desperate crazy about her. I call bullshit, but it's crazy flattering. Now that she's down in weight she loves jumping on me. She gets mad if I grunt too much. I will avoid another part of our relationship that I have alluded to recently, but those who have called, thanks.

I drink Artesian Water and have sex with my penis

Okay? Ketchup.

A full pile of reviews:
The classics:
Ali G
Mouchette: The Criterion Collection
The Science of Sleep

Interesting...:
Dallas
Springfield Rifle
Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Two Takes: The Criterion Collection

Shit
The Grudge 2
Gymkata
Pocket Money
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning


All the Bond That's fit to print:
For Your Eyes Only
From Russia with Love
Live and Let Die
Moonraker
Octopussy
On Her Majesty's Secret Service
Tomorrow Never Dies

I went to Amoeba today, got leash long enough to head over. I joke about this shit, but it's truth. I had some stuff to trade in. While shopping, I ran into MICHEL FUCKING GONDRY. When I heard him talking to his assistant, I knew it was him. I said "I'm not going to make a deal out of this, but I just wanted you to know that I am a big fan." He joked that I wasn't buying his movie, but I told him honestly that I had it at home because I reviewed the DVD and gave it four stars. He blushed. I forgot to mention the J to him, but alas. I then bought HERE COMES MR. JORDAN.

On to the real stuff, I need to crash soon, but I'm still not on Pacific time. Over the last month, I've turned down sex three times from women who aren't my wife. Aili got an email (that, yes, got me laid) that one of her sister's friends was literally panting for me when we were out - like I said, the wife and I had to visit London on shifts, and I got a full day with her sister and her sister's friend Jess, who I flirted up a bit, but spent most of the time talking about my kid. Now, I feel sort of miserable about it, and flattered at the same time. The other two are somewhat less evidential, but it was there. But I was talking about this with Sarah the other day (who witnessed one of these events), and the two things that came out is that often I'm more amused saying no to sex than actually having it. I was like this before I got married, too, it's pretty bad sometimes how amused I am turning women down. I feel bad about this, but it happens. The other is that I guess I've never felt like a sex symbol, which in itself doesn't mean anything, but it's always led me to question why someone would want to have sex with me. But then she told me if I was any more arrogant, I wouldn't be tolerable, so it's a weird mixture of arrogance and pathos. Or, to be more precise, I wouldn't want to join a club that would have me for a member. Usually. Thank god I'm married. But also, having this kid is a pussy magnet of doom.

Home again

I took some Tylenol PM before the flight. I hadn't slept more than four hours straight since we left, and so it was awesome taking it, and getting about thirty minutes of druginess. I was quite obviously high as a kite. Aili can't stand flying so she was on baby duty, and she knew I needed the rest. So I took some before we boarded, and barely stayed awake during take off. After that I don't remember anything until we landed. It was Superbowl Sunday today, yeah, so I guess I should say that Swan was pretty heroic for giving us a lift home from LAX. But, all things, he owes me, and the traffic wasn't bad at all. I owe you guys a shitload of Journal links, so I'll do that tomorrow or something. The best part about landing and getting home was that once I got in the house, I took a heroic shit. It was epic.

Aili's dad died. He died Friday. There are some things I get to put on here, and some things I don't. You don't get to know about this, though. Aili's given me a list of things I don't get to put on here, and the last couple days with her father were number two behind anal play. I can tell you that she's masturbated while reading my blog, and that might get me read the riot act when she reads this, but because I have friends who also peruse this site, there are certain discussions she'd rather bring up herself or keep to ourselves, and I respect that. Here's what I can say: unless I decide to beat her, or put my dick in someone else (or she decides to beat me or fuck someone else), I doubt we'll get divorced, and I hope that when I die, I do it as well as he did, and as surrounded by people who love me.

Fucking tired

I'm still not on Finish time yet. Lame. I had a nice long chat with Mika Kaurismaki the other night. He made me understand something about America, and film goers. He said, or my wife said as it were, that "American audiences, they go see a handful of foreign films, and they think that they have seen enough." That, that clicked for me. I've spent some time on the internets, and I've always been frustrated by the person who loves The Seven Samurai, but that's as far as they go. If I get turned on by an artist, be it in anything, my first thought is to try more. It all boils back to Platonic love, a love I've felt for movies for a long time, and something I never though I'd feel as strongly for other humans until I got married and had a kid. and that's the sense that if you love something, you want to explore it until exhaustion. Most people don't love movies that way. Most people don't love that way. And as Jonathan Rhys-Meyers sums up brilliantly at the end of the criminally underrated Ride with the Devil "It ain't right and it ain't wrong - it just is."

Children of Men

Bought this in London, wow. What a masterpiece. Don't know where it shakes on my list, but top five for sure. Kind of a strange movie to watch under the circumstances.

I got into an argument with my Brother in Law about it (he's been by a lot. Which leads to even more drama, they have not entirely accepted the whole fact that he's gay.) He likes Brazil more, and I think this is the better movie. He was saying how depressing and close to reality he found it, and I guess I find Brazil way more depressing. Brazil is a "You can't take that away from me." film, as the ending is a minor triumph in the face of oppression. But I find the ending very much a hippie dippy escape from Orwell. CoM I find infinitely more hopeful as it's about finding value in life. It's a film, rather literally about birth, about renewal. It's the work of a father. Brazil strikes me as the work of an egoist. Which all works of art are, but maybe a little moreso here. I've got to work on articulating this.

That though was only major London purchase. The exchange rate is 2.2and some other numbers. Originally we were supposed to be gone by now, but we threw in London, partly for Aili's sister, partly so it wouldn't be all depression. We're here until Sunday. I mean, this is it. There's already been the discussion, and we're not coming back for the funeral. He can't walk anymore, he's at the hospital, and I know part of him is just ready. I think he held out to see us, so I wouldn't be surprised if it's soon. Aili's brother Mika (as I found out named after the director, who I guess is coming over for dinner tomorrow) has been going to the hospital too a lot. They've been trying to talk civilly. We're coming in in a bit. Yesterday he told me about how he saw Three to Tango, this useless Matt Perry Neve Campbell film. I couldn't help worrying that might be the last movie he ever sees. But then, what do I show him? Rules of the Game? A Prairie Home Companion? Dunno.

Finland

The 4 am flight yesterday was deadly, but that's noon LA time. We're in now, been in for a day and a half. Thankfully her parents have wireless. I guess they spend all day emailing their daughter. Which I've only been partly aware of this until now. Still kinda bummed about meeting the Hot Fuzzers. I guess the truth is you want them to know you're a fan, and that you're cool. I'm sure I got the former across.

I should probably be more concerned about meeting my in-laws. That has been awkward so far, but I'm the walking dead right now with jet lag. I've spoken to them on the phone, and they've gotten tons of photos of us. Here's the thing I didn't want to talk about. Her dad is ill. Bad. This is it. He's got the cancer in the lungs. He's down to one and it doesn't look good. We saw him yesterday. There was a lot of crying. That's what this is about. Why we're here. Not exactly the best way to meet the in-laws. Her mom, Kaisa, has been great but doesn't speak English and dad Eikki speaks very little English ("I hear you want to make movies!" "Yes." "Good town for it." "Yes, that's why I moved there.""Huh?" Aili translates."Very good!") That leaves some issues off of me. Still, it's a very grave visit,that Leonard can only slightly counterbalance. Lot of crying.
And I still can't sleep, and I still can't shit right. The food here is eh. I've been dealt some okay Finnish food at home, but it tends to be (to me) bland. Less spices it seems. Sort of like Russian cuisine. So far (one day in) more fish than beef.

Still sorta wrestling with last night

So I have the Hot Fuzz/Shaun of the Dead gang's autographs, but it's tinged with a sense of their annoyance. They were obviously chatting with some friends or something, but I saw them and I couldn't help myself. Simon gave me a sort of "yeah I get it" nod. I think it would be cuter if I were younger or shorter. Maybe they weren't that annoyed all things. And there's no way in hell they'd ever remember me. Good god, I could have just nodded politely. Still, they signed my Empire. Maybe I should have mentioned working on that script with Q: The Winged Serpent. Maybe that would have done it.


I'm seriously this close to throwing it away, though.

I guess I could make up a story about it to make me come off cooler.

I feel Gay

I saw Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg and Nick Frost at a bar tonight. I geeked out and asked for autographs. I got them. But they weren't happy. I feel bad. They must be doing interviews for HOT FUZZ. Frost wrote "Damon, GAY! Nick Frost"

Seriously, I'm mixed on this one.

This is Radio Clash

I'm finally getting adjusted to London time. Fucking hell. I can't shit right, I fart a lot, I don't sleep more than three or four hours in a row. We're here visiting Aili's sister. Her place is small, but we're doing okay. I feel bad about flying Leonard over, but such is life. We've done some sight seeing, but with Leonard so young, and London so cold, it generally means that one of us gets to go out.

Tomorrow we leave for Finland. It turns out that Aili's family knows the Kaurismaki brothers Aki and Mika. If they're around we may hang out with them. Very cool. I have been working on this trip. But I'm getting punchy. We'll be in Finland for a week, and I've got DVD's I said I'd write up for the J while I'm here, and the kid, and it's my first time in London, and I'm going to do most of sight seeing today. "Hey where was An American Werewolf in London filmed?" "Piccadilly Circus."
"I want to check that shit out, then."

That's, hopefully what today has in store, though everything is hella expensive, and it's been snowing. But we have to get out of London tomorrow before the strike kicks in (which starts next week).

A short story

They got together, and not without a sense of irony, on the first full moon of a month, unless it was a Thursday. Then they just waited until Friday cause Charles couldn't get out of picking up his kids from their fencing classes. Of course, everyone joked about the fencing lessons when Charles wasn't around, but the group did so in a mostly loving fashion. Every full moon, a dinner out. The wives and husbands understood, as the married ones knew the need to confess their "illness." At this point it was nothing a few pills a month couldn't suppress, but the bachelors could be cagey with dates and one night stands. It was determined a genetic anomaly and medicines were developed all of ten years ago, but there was always a likelihood (something Sebastian was all too aware of) that an unknown pregnancy could leave more than a couple of people dead. The earliest signs of the illness come when puberty kicks in, but a first outbreak can be deadly. There were a couple ways of spreading the "disease" (again, no one likes to call it a disease, it's like calling a pencil a piece of art... yes, it's applicable, but only under the loosest of definitions). but A#1 easiest way was through offspring (urine proved to be the second most powerful way of transmission. Some of the affected have mistakenly been labeled pee shy as a result)

Their meetings were about a fourth class reunion, a fourth support group, a fourth lodge meeting, and a fourth an act of policing. Records were kept, of course, who hadn't been around for more than two meetings. Sebastian was appointed to be the obituary follower, to both check for those who permanently left their group, and also for anything suspicious. He was in his sixties but still spry, which was normal. If someone missed their third meeting Sebastian would alert Ted and Nancy, who would first make a phone call, and if nothing came of that, they knew what they had to do. Of course, everyone joked at the meetings (usually after their standard steak tartar and extra rare fillet dinners) about how they kinda wanted to get off the pills. Some members because they had no idea how it'd go, and others wanting to taste it again. And of course, there were the side effects to their medication. Impotence and dryness were known to be a problem, dizziness, and for those who were on it for ten years straight, kidney stones. Most of the jokes by the old timers revolved around their piss. But the punchline was always Ted and Nancy.

The biggest problem with going off the meds, besides turning into a werewolf, was that the meds were mood altering. Off the pills for two weeks, and kids were known to turn erratic, quiet people got louder, loud people got quieter, but most became moody, and even more strongly reject the desire for their medication. Even those who ran out of pills and had to wait a couple hours for their refills could shortly thereafter start down the path, which generally took about three moon cycles for the meds to fully flush out. Like a junkie, getting off and on was always the hardest part. That's what Ted and Nancy were for, nicknamed Sugar and Spice. He had the tranquilizer, she had the shotgun. If you didn't go down with one, you'd go down with the other. They were jokingly referred to as state licenced killers, but ultimately they only had to use their James Bondian powers once in their interim. It was the first years that were bloody, and the ones that established the need for a two person system. If a "cannibal" (as they were also called) went off their meds it was always the worst. Two put shotguns in their own mouths, but - again - that was considered the Wild West period.

The problem was that everyone went off their meds at one point or another. There was talk of having an Alaskan workshop, but the money hasn't come together yet, and it would require at least a three to six month absence from one's work or life. It was what Charles and Sebastian were discussing after their latest, and enjoying a smoke outside as the group dispersed yet again. Much like his lycanthopy, Charles didn't let too many people in on his smoking habit. But the meetings allowed him a chance to flaunt the secrets he kept from his boss, whose father had been mauled to death, and was a violently religious health nut, perhaps in response to his father's passing.

"I think we should do it as a retirement village."
"Of course you would, you're near retirement."
"You know me, I'm responsible."
"No, I know. But we all get it, we all get it all the time."
"Tell me about it. I found myself doodling the woods the other day. Just doodling."
"Did you add dead chickens?"
"No." Sebastian laughed "Dead rabbits."

One of the newest members handed out copies of their group photo, which had him giving thumbs up in front of their plate of meat surrounded by his new tribe.

"Thanks. Anyway, I keep thinking about driving to Northern California..."
"Or Southern Oregon?"
"Yeah, and just hanging out until it happens."
"Then, what, you think about Sugar and Spice?"
"Nah, I figure someone else would just shoot me. It's been so long though, I don't know what to expect."
"I remember the wind."
"When you run really fast?"
"Yeah. Being on all fours, the thrill of the hunt."
"I tried bow hunting, it's not the same. And I don't have the teeth for ripping an animal apart this way."
"Yeah."
"Also, I have no idea what I'd look like now."
"I had a real fluffy white coat last time."
"You must have looked like an evil husky dog,"
"Yeah, but I got a lot of ass."
"But you're married now, kids, all that."
"I guess straight people buy a fancy car when they feel this way."
"Yeah. Different strokes, and all that."
"Yeah."
"Anyway."
"Yeah, I know, you got kids to look after."
"Yeah. See you next month."