* THIS WEEK BEING:
MARCH 13ᵗʰ — MARCH 19ᵗʰ /2020
back by petulant demand: Musings from the Music hall three. (To pete, this section.)
It’s around 4p.m. 3/14/2020, A message from the grapevine:
6:43 a.m. i’m drawing a blank. i’m don’t have to say anything, which is good, cos i’ve got nothing to say. not right now anyway. o.k.
2/28/2020. let the workload dropoff there for a week and apparently calls were made. we all learned a lot. surely. it’s 1:55 a.m.
here’s a quote: “It’s a melancholy fact of the times we live in that any movie of even moderate ambition is supposed to become a blockbuster, and that “family movies,” with few exceptions, are inane, innocent, and boring. But “The Incredible Shrinking Woman” is not inane, is sometimes wickedly knowing, and is only periodically boring. It strikes a note of quiet desperation that appeals to the teenager in all of us. When Lily Tomlin’s character has shrunk to twenty-four inches in height and is desperately screaming for help because she is about to be flushed down the garbage disposal unit, who among us cannot say he has felt exactly the same way?” (source)
here’s a link.
-resident 12 year old, labour laws be damned
p.s. it’s 5:38 a.m. now. i kin admit having fallen asleep at the wheel, sotospeak, in terms up the updates on this here webular enterprise. i have nobody to blame but myself. here is a link, and here’s a notice for those who notice & care (& all at once, no less!): there will be a lag on the newsletter. a day at most. sincerely & in awl srsly, the old boy. i do what i do for the movies. & also other things. like music. & $$ for cigarettes. CAPITALISM- p.p.s. at 7:38 a.m., i’m still held up doing what must to be done. git er done. i don gon did it. i’m doing it. more coffee, please. final touches for the time being, 7:40 a.m. have a day, will ya?
2/21/2020, 1:27 a.m., R.I.P. Andrew Weatherall*. it’s unclear to me just now what i’d journal’d here before, because i crave to reiterate- Agh! fUDGE! GOTDang, skeeter hovering about. those things suck blood don’t they? tchsheeit. that’s MY blood. i know sharing is caring, i know the expression. i don’t care. not like this. not like this… anyway, this work isn’t over, but this page here is done. so i’m moving on. one love. (*see here; & also, too, this.) ….8:41 a.m. final touches on the calendar on this here page. having sent out the first newsletter; god, it hurts to care so much… stupid. (link.) tonight’s work has been soundtrack’d by NTS radio, Adult Swim programmings 12 Oz Mouse & Eagleheart, and the screaming voices coming in from outside my window.
“ On February 18, 1977, an Army battalion descended on Iconic Fela Anikulapo Kuti’s sprawling compound popularly regarded as Kalakuta Republic where the Afrobeat legend resided. By the time the Army was done with their ‘evil deeds’, the compound was a shadow of its self. The raid which took place in the early hours of 18th February came as a shock because it was overrun by over a thousand soldiers under the guise of arresting the Afrobeat legend for keeping under-aged girls in his residence. His mother who would later die from the injuries she sustained. ” (link)
This is the next line, where more words will go, only these words will be mine. this will be archived until The Gods decide it be otherwise. love, a soldier of cinema. This kind of thing, updating this site, is not only time consuming; it’s an ephemeral labour of love, worth all the life it’s culled outta me; <33.