Well, I mean, yeah, because he’s got titles like THE LUST LIZARD OF MELANCHOLY COVE and PRACTICAL DEMONKEEPING. These are what originally got me peeling his books up from the shelves back whenever ago. Years already, I guess. Too, though, I’ve yet to read a CMoore book that hasn’t made me smile, and then impressed me too, somehow. Like this, from A DIRTY JOB, which I just finished ten minutes ago:
Of all the footnotes I cut from DEMON THEORY, there’s an OLIVER TWIST / ANIMAL HOUSE one that I maybe miss the most. There was this fun, ceramic-pig oriented Pynchon-one too though, I suppose, which scuttled through PLAYBOY and I forget all-where. And more and more. This, though, it’s one that I never actually put to paper, only considered: getting to LOST via MILLENIUM via X-FILES or something — Terry O’Quinn seems to be in about everything I like. Either that or I like everything he’s in. However, it’s a good thing I didn’t have a LOST note, I think, as I now realize it would it have been incomplete, because just now was the very time I ever saw “The Creepy Case of Old Ironface” episode of SCOOBY-DOO, WHERE ARE YOU? which seems to hold, in seed-form, all of LOST:
like I haven’t done this with every banner etc. but, anyway, yep, polished the trailer up in a few ways, and it’s here now:
I’m leaving the old one up as well, though, for those who might have preferred it.
- Another BLEED INTO ME review. Montana Magazine. Here.
- This, from up front in Amy Taubin’s BFI book on TAXI DRIVER:
Really, it is not violence at all which is the ‘point’ of the western movie, but a certain image of man, a style, which expresses itself most clearly in violence. Watch a child with his toy guns and you will see: what most interests him is not (as we so much fear) the fantasy of hurting others, but to work out how a man might look when he shoots or is shot. A hero is one who looks like a hero.
Maybe it’s this way for everybody, I don’t know. Sometimes I’ll stumble across something in a book, anyway, and it’ll just burrow right to the core of me and never leaves. I say sometimes, but, I suppose, I’m only about to list three. And, it’s not that they’re said all that perfect or anything, it’s more like they’re just obviously true. Trick was, I’d just never thought about them:
No excuse for it, I’m sure, but somehow I missed BEWITCHED when it was at the theater. I mean, I loved the series–it’s kind of been instrumental to my whole identity-formation-thing (it and I DREAM OF JEANNIE)–but had doubts they’d be able to cast an Esmerelda as good as the original. if I’m getting the name wrong, I’m talking about the mom-in-law there. Anyway, just got this in my inbox, from a friend: it’s a still from BEWITCHED, that has ATBS in it. kinda cool. click on it for the big image.
The first is central to Seven Spanish Angels, the second kind of prescient to Demon Theory:
[ click them for the larger img ]
That monkeys-img is thanks to a reader. the cite on it, I think, is: by Massimo Carnivale. it’s the cover for the 40th issue of that Y the Last Man comic (Brian K. Vaughn).
I don’t write essays, but, anyway, been meaning to for a couple of years now. planned subject: all the fake throwing up in movies. it’s so insulting to me when the character leans over and hurls up some obvious mouthful of soup or something. their sides hardly contracting in dry heaves, none of that. maybe it’s just that throwing up was the one sport I could have gone olympic in, I don’t know.