Susan Sontag - Summer Shucking, Part III

"The ultimate wisdom of the photographic image is to say: 'There is the surface. Now think--or rather feel, intuit--what is beyond it, what the reality must be like if it looks this way.' Photographs, which cannot themselves explain anything, are inexhaustible invitations to deduction, speculation, and fantasy. Photography implies that we know about the world if we accept it as the camera records it. But this is the opposite of understanding, which starts from not accepting the world as it looks."

Susan Sontag, from On Photography

Photograph by Peter Hujar

(obituary published in "New York," Jan. 10, 2005)

On Photography is definitely on my Must Read List. As I just scored a gift card to a bookstore, I'm inspired to go pick up a copy today or tomorrow.

What I Learned Today (More Summer Shucking)

Team Yum-Yum

It seems like there's a link between carbon-based life and earthquakes.

"The bigger lesson here is that earthquakes, no matter how individually destructive, are part of a larger reality: an elaborate tectonic system that helps make life possible. Subduction of Earth's plates is essential to the recycling of carbon--and it appears to be no coincidence that the only object in the solar system known to support life is also the only object with tectonic activity. Mars, for example, has no tectonic plates, and appears to be a cold, airless, lifeless planet. The long, fruitful existence of a biosphere may require that a planet be dynamic--and sometimes tragically violent."

--- "Tilt," Joel Achenbach

I still refuse to move to California. This new (for me) information would not offer much solace during a earthquake. I just don't want to end my carbon-based life while clinging to a door jamb in tighty-whities and watching the walls fall down. The thought, "Oh, good, more recycling for Mommy Earth!" will fail to override my panic and fear.

If constant ground-shaking helps to create an atmosphere and ecosystem that supports human survival, how do we replicate that on Mars so we can spread our particular virus? Do we pull a 'Michael Bay' and slam the Nuke of All Nukes into Mars' center? Would setting it off create enough instability to give Mars some Earth-like wobble?

I'm sure that's only the first step to terraforming, also known as creating Another Blue Marble. Well, the second step...no, the third step. The first step is to convince Bruce Willis and his crew to man the superheroic flight that will save us all. The second step is to pay Aerosmith to compose a shitty power ballad to commemorate the event. Then, and only then, can we set off the Biggest Mega-Bang Evah. Until we corrupt our second planetary home and need to fuck up Jupiter.

Summer Shucking

It's too late for spring cleaning, so I'm designating my latest purge as "summer shucking." Books are being culled; images and stories plucked from magazines; and dust is being soaked, swiped and sucked up on a daily basis.

This is a photograph by Rita Bernstein published in the January 2005 edition of The Sun. I liked the dreamy contemplation of a wasted day. I had to have a straight male point out that she seems topless beneath the sheer curtain. I see languid feet, light and layered depth. He sees an outstanding 'A' cup.

Wordy Nerds, Activate!

Everybody has a bit of nerd in them, and my nerdiness rises when it comes to words. Specifically, S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G. I can't write in the txt-ing lingo so prevalent among people born after 1985. I have a better chance of deciphering hieroglyphics without the Rosetta Stone handy than I do cracking this moronic code (God. Damn. Kids). I refuse to text message a mass of letter jumbles for the sake of efficiency. I'm not a holy defender of keeping language immaculate. Having a love of language, oral and written, I do appreciate when words are broken and/or their meanings are bent to create slang, colloquialisms, and pidgin. The other form of language-screwing that I detest is jargon. Jargon is used to make other people feel stupid (Graduate schools for business? That's worked out well.) and/or spend more money than necessary (effin' lawyers). Txt-ing is evil.

Being a word nerd means I will take the day off to watch The Scripps National Spelling Bee. You know, they let Canadians compete. Last time I checked, Canada was its own sovereign nation. I know America regards Canada as its personal attic for some reason, but it's really more of a forgotten annex of Great Britain, non? Either way, it's got a Prime Minister AND a functioning universal health care system, which means I can't legally vote there. Ergo, shouldn't it be called The Scripps International Spelling Bee? Actually, I'm in favor of not having Canadians participate. Create your own fricking Spelling Bee, Canucks! You're never going to be considered a true first nation until you do.

Anyhoo, I flopped on the big, green chair with a box of Cheez-its and prepared to test my skills against a bunch of scary pre-pubescents who are so busy memorizing word lists and learning language roots they haven't figured out that wearing Dockers doesn't lead to happy lives. In the rounds that count, approximately a half-dozen spellers captured my imagination and my heart. I don't remember them all now, but two that stuck in my head were My Korean Woody Allen and RockerGrrrl. I'm always a sucker for a miniature Woody Allen. Who isn't? And, RockerGrrrl, c'mon! Finally, a contestant who didn't let their mother dress them!!!!! I did a cartwheel when I saw her shaggy, hipster 'do. Frick and frack, I think she even worked a pair of leggings. Bliss.

Here's the list of words I correctly spelled (all glorious fourteen of them).

1. machtpolitik
2. stapp
3. poivrade
4. Santeria
5. escritoire
6. Moloch
7. foudroyant
8. talipot
9. Grenache
10. Anasazi
11. tagliatelle
12. blancmange
13. simnel
14. grisaille

Two things helped me to reach that stunning number--14--of correct responses: my French lessons in school and my foodie tendencies. While I did plug away at my foreign language for almost a decade, most of it took place in a public school. That means I can't speak it for merde, but I remember what letter combinations create the oral fuckery that is the French language. As a foodie, I eat out and expose myself to menus from varied cuisines and wine lists. I peruse cookbooks and linger over new phrases. So, that explains the bulk of my success.

One of the words was a lucky guess. I have no idea what is a "simnel," or if it's even a bloody noun. My startling knowledge of children's literature landed me "Anasazi." I got "Santeria" because, well, I'm a straight-up heathen and well-acquainted with polytheistic worship accompanied with blood and dancing. I don't practice Santeria (still too Catholic), but was raised with something similar.

I was quite pleased with my results. The winner of this year's Bee wasn't one of my half-dozen gunslingers, but it was still fun to watch. RockerGrrl, you brrroke my hearrrt. My Korean Woody Allen, I expect to see you next year...and, please, burn those frickin' Dockers.

***UPDATE***

simnel cake |ˈsimnəl|noun chiefly Brit.a rich fruitcake, typically with a marzipan covering and decoration, eaten esp. at Easter or during Lent.

ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: simnel from Old French simenel, based on Latinsimila or Greek semidalis ‘fine flour.’

Well. I had no idea. Maybe my stomach instinctively knew how to spell it.

Still Missing Sweet Dick Willie After All These Years

Robin Harris, 1953 -1990, R.I.P.

A tantalizing article in the LA Times alerted me to the upcoming 20th anniversary for Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing. Has it been that long? The article describes the obstacles faced by Lee trying to secure financing. I like how he gives a shout out to Tom Pollock and says that Pollock is the film's unsung hero. It also details some of the ignorant nonsense that Lee faced by the critics because they assumed black people would lose their minds and burn theaters down after viewing his flick:

"In his review in the June 26, 1989, issue of New York magazine, David Denby said that 'the end of this movie is a shambles, and if some audiences go wild, [Lee's] partly responsible.' Jack Kroll in Newsweek called the film 'dynamite under every seat.' "

And, these were the film critics! I don't think anyone is surprised when the money men and people with green-light power seem like narrow-minded fuckos who have jumped up their own asses. In theory (or am I naive pickaninny who's fresh off massa's plantation?), critics should be displaying thoughtful consideration in their writing while informing by using context and a broader knowledge of the world and film history. I don't know that actually ever existed in reality. At best, an honest opinion was delivered succinctly and distinctions were made between fine art and pure enjoyment. Now, Ben Lyons is inflicted on the public and fanboys rule the blogs. Feh. But, I digress. The topic is the miracle that was the release of Do The Right Thing 20 years ago.

To celebrate the anniversary, Universal Pictures is releasing a two-disc DVD that includes new commentary by Spike Lee, more documentary footage, and an oral history of the film's making as remembered by crew and cast. I'm a slut for oral histories, so this new edition of the DVD immediately makes my birthday wish list. The list of people speaking about the film is impressive, but the three standouts for me are Spike Lee, Rosie Perez, and Ernest Dickerson.

I like that Lee always has something to say and he's one of the last directors who can successfully translate that opinion into a provocative visual statement. Lee always brings it visually, but I find that his dialogue wins or loses depending on the actors delivering it. (I just realized that Annabella Sciorra annoys me no matter what she does.) The person who delivers Lee best is Lee himself...Denzel is damn close, but, Spike is king of his own material. I will admit that sometimes Lee has the ability to talk out of his ass, but sometimes a great improviser is going to FAIL. But, it's worth it to show up and keep an open mind.

Rosie Perez has one of the best voices ever. I would consider it an honor to be cussed out by this woman. It's not a surprise that people want to hear her say "Mookie" over and over. She should make a ringtone of her raggin' him, sell it on iTunes and count the sheckles as they drop into her bank account. I don't think it's her accent that mesmerizes me. It's the combination of tone, breath, how she hits certain beats--just like a great horn player, by the way. And, that's just the aural effect. Pair that with her eyes and the formidable body language she uses as a former dancer. She could have been born in Minsk and she'd still bitchslap people with that voice and stance.

I'm also a slut for the deft use of saturated color and bringing weight to light. This film perfectly transmits the simplicity and languor of summer, while simultaneously conveying the body-blocking oppression of city heat. So, my back will straighten and my eyes will widen when Mr. Ernest Dickerson, the cinematographer, comes onto screen. I only have loonie lurve for what this man accomplished with this film (and Mo' Better Blues and Malcolm X). The same feeling clouds my mind when I remember my first Crayola 64 box from the first grade.

As well as the three above, there are pithy insights provided by Danny Aiello, John Turturro, Martin Lawrence, Giancarlo Esposito, Chuck D (!), and more. To place the film in context, it busted loose around the time of Driving Miss Daisy and sex, lies and videotape. It's mentioned that Daisy's triumph at the Oscars still stings for Spike and Danny. And, the article's author takes a swipe at s,l&v. I can only shrug about that. (The Oscars first pissed me off when they blessed Ghandi over E.T. And, then the fakakta decision to award the piece-of-shit-directed-by-THAT-MAN over Goodfellas?) The Academy rarely gets it right. Slumdog? Bitch, please.

Another reason I find this film a classic is that it delivers one of the best hell-raising anthems ever: "Fight the Power" by Public Enemy.  I can't imagine a day when the dissonant clanging that propels the beat won't get my ass up and moving.  And, Public Enemy has one of the best vocalists of the Eighties.  Chuck D. is unique to my ears because he delivers his rhymes in a 'singerly' manner.  With Terminator X's bombastic cacophony literally blowing up behind him, Chuck D.'s voice has to be strong and disciplined, but that iron is wrapped in throaty velvet.  It's like Billy Eckstine woke up enraged one night, sheared off his conk, and joined the revolution.  Plus, I'm going to love any song that drops black history, says f.u. to Bobby McFerrin, and calls people to rise up in one breath, but doesn't let them forget how to party in the next: 

Cause I'm black and I'm proud

I'm ready and hyped plus I'm amped

Most of my heroes don't appear on no stamps

Sample a look back you look and find

Nothing but rednecks for 400 years if you check

Don't worry be happy

Was a number one jam

Damn if I say it you can slap me right here

(Get it) lets get this party started right

Right on, c'mon

What we got to say

Power to the people no delay

To make everybody see

In order to fight the powers that be

And, of course, the film features Rosie Perez jerking, jabbing and popping in the opening while this song rolls.  Damn!  It's far more sexier than anything Beyonce attempts in her recent videos (if Lah-Dee-Dah Knowles jerks much harder, I swear a titty is going to fly off).  

Finally, the film features Robin Harris as Sweet Dick Willie.  Those three men sitting around a cooler and shooting the shit always reminds me of my childhood home.  I didn't grow up in a city, so people didn't park themselves right out on the corner in lawn chairs.  Our old-time gents loitered in the town's pool hall or on other people's porches.  But, Willie, in particular,  reminds me of my grandmother because she always used to say: "Ain't no dick on this Earth THAT SWEET or THAT LONG, make me put up w' that bullshit."  (My love of baking cookies and knitting did not come from her.  Nope.  From her, I get my withering evil eye and an ability to shake a tailfeather.)  So, just hearing the moniker "Sweet Dick Willie" gets me sentimental and in the mood for whiskey.  

Eventually, I'm going to put on Harris' comedy album, Bé-Bé's Kids, and fall out laughing from "Gonna Change/Spare Change" and "Piccolo Player."  "Piccolo Player" is my favorite part because Harris' delivery is almost a song, but my father's belly laughs come rolling out for "Gonna Change/Spare Change."  My father loves that line, "I'm gonna do the...RIGHT thang!" It is a response to the question of how success is going to affect the comic.  Harris puts a walloping emphasis on "right" and manages to do two things.  One: he nods to the film that helped propel him to that success.  Two: he asserts his self-interest as the number one priority and subverts the film's internal debate.  As my family interprets that line, it's about preserving his black ass.  He's not going to end up like Radio Raheem in the film, which brings me back to the commentary included in this anniversary DVD.

There are so many issues in this film that could inspire dialogue, debate, argument and shooting the shit.  Even how the questions are framed leads to substantial discussion.  "Should Sal hang pictures of black heroes in the pizza shop?" is very different from "Why doesn't Sal hang pictures of black heroes in the pizza shop?"  When I first saw the film, my reaction was to focus on the actions of the police.  The death of Raheem generated within me feelings of sorrow, helplessness and bitter resignation.  I don't remember questioning the mob losing their shit and tearing stuff apart until after leaving the theater and talking with others.  Spike Lee sums it ruthlessly in the commentary:   "It disturbed me how some critics would talk about the loss of property -- which is really saying white-owned property -- but not the loss of life."  

The film is 20 years older.  I'm twenty years older.  And, so is America.  How will this film stand against recent history?  I'm not just referring to Obama (Didn't the Obamas see this on their first date?).  Rodney King, O.J. Simpson, NYPD, Hurricane Katrina and the Jena Six will be in the back of my mind, too.  What will be my response now?  Do The Right Thing was loaded with provocation in 1989.  Is it still brimming with a power and vitality that scared the bejeezus out of some people?  I predict that the film is still a hot, sweaty mess refusing to be invisible or voiceless.   

Hinky Embedding--Damn you, Sumner!

The post below should be a clip from The Colbert Report featuring a street theater performer, Stephen Keith. When I originally posted the clip, it was the correct clip. But, then it mysteriously changed to the guest hawking his most recent book about how Ivy Leaguers shouldn't be running the world (duh). I fixed it and it better stay that way.

Not that I'll blame Colbert. I'll blame Sumner Redstone and his greedy ass.

Escapee from Will Ferrell's Comic Mind

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Difference Makers - Stephen Keith
colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor Keyboard Cat

I can't believe this guy isn't being played by Will Ferrell or Paul Rudd. But, no, Stephen Keith is walking and talking...when he's not picking cotton.
He winks.
He sashays.
He is my huckleberry!

www.colbertnation.com

There are a lot of gross beards in Arizona, which will be my third reason for never ever going there.

1. No love for MLK.
2. The state school is the "Harvard of Date Rape."
3. Old withered men with nasty beards.