Yes, I am an 18 year old male. Yes, I realize that I am writing a blog about the phenomona that 12 year old girls and cougars both wet their pants over. The series known as Twilight.

Now, some may ask if the “Twilight” saga counts as a cult film. and by definition, my answer is yes. There are legions of undying fans willing to do just about anything (and yes i do mean anything) to let everyone know that they are fans. Just because its a financial success and very, very mainstrean doesn’t mean its not a cult film.

The newest addition to the series is of course “New Moon.” I went to the midnight premiere of this film expecting and hoping for a trainwreck comparable to the first film, which I would describe on the uncomfortable scale as a “being touched inappropriately.”

However, “New Moon” was actually pretty good. The hipster in me loved the soundtrack (Thom Yorke and Bon Iver for the win!) and it was actually very aesthetically pleasing with interesting uses of conventional ideas and symbolism (i.e. the “Romeo and Juliet” cover when Bella falls asleep.

The movie isn’t all white make up and hot topic gift cards though, because let’s face it, the reason behind the movie actually happening is stupid. Edward leaves Bella after absolutely NOTHING happens at a birthday party and then Bella spends half a year whining about instead of doing what women ages 12-46 wanted her to do, which is get with werewolf Jacob Black. Also, there is one awkward part that just makes you feel nostalgic of the first film.

One last note, if you’re a guy DO NOT go see this movie with your significant other. The group of werewolves spend a majority of their time without shirts on and you WILL feel emasculated. I promise.

Day 02 → Your favorite movie

i have a lot of favourite movies. these are my top 3:

first. hedwig and the angry inch. this is absolutely my favourite movie. i love the soundtrack too.

picture i drew on my wrist last november:

second. igby goes down. so good. i want to live that movie.

third. rocky horror picture show. i can’t find my favourite clip (floor show), and it’s full of spoilers anyway, so here is this video instead

No!  Don’t go in there!  They’re right behind you!  That’s what she said!  Run, bitch, run!

He has modeled his movie going experience after Statler and Waldorf from The Muppet Show.  Thinking it is his own personal Mystery Science Theater 3000 and he’s sitting front row center between Crow and Servo, he throws up zingers and one liners like the actors in the movie can actually hear him.  Hopefully he’s at a screening of Rocky Horror Picture Show because if not, his “audience participation” will be frowned upon more than when he tries to discretely take that ever so important phone call an hour into the movie.

No, we don’t care if the actor is obviously going to get killed when they walk into the deserted cabin.  It makes sense that they are slowly searching closets on the second floor of the house whose power has been cut when there is a serial killer on the loose.  Of course the scantily clad sorority girl will be able to outrun the killer through the woods and there’s no chance at all that she’ll trip, fall, and twist an ankle.  Really, what could go wrong with midnight skinny dipping in Crystal Lake?

It was Lizabeth’s first audition with Chyro Arts Venue in Scottsdale. She sat among some seriously grown-up looking folks waiting to read for the director of Talk Radio. Far younger than the other actors, she felt a bit nervous but nonetheless at home. She’d recently seen friends perform in Closet Drama, and the other actors auditioning with her that night were warm and welcoming.

That’s how she met Scott C. Jeffers, one of several actors cast in Talk Radio. Scotty, as his friends and family know him, died October 31, 2009 when he was just 38 years old. For fellow actors and other artists, it was “his final curtain call.” He’d performed earlier that day as the lion in the opening performance of Childsplay’s Androcles and the Lion. It’s said he wasn’t feeling well before the show, but gave one hell of a performance nonetheless. I wish we had been there to see it.

Knowing how Lizabeth looks up to every member of the Talk Radio cast and crew, I realized she’d be devastated to hear the news. I didn’t yet realize that she felt especially close to Scott. She cried—hard—when I told her. “Scotty never treated me like a kid,” Liz told me. Despite (or because of) his years of performance experience, Scott embraced Liz as a fellow performer. You have no idea what that means to her.

Lizabeth has long kept a tiny notebook in her purse so she can capture her feelings and ideas—often in the form of poetry. I asked Liz if I could share one of these poems with you, and am grateful she agreed with such generosity of spirit. This is a poem called “Scotty”—written on November 4, 2009:

I didn’t know you as well as others
But that to me never mattered
You were kind and extremely funny
Why’d you have to go?
I never felt like a child around you
That’s not an easy thing to do
My beat boxing attempts made you smile
Why’d you have to go?
There’s so much more I want to say
Like how much I wish you’d stayed
You really were the perfect lion
You had the spunk and the giant heart

Within days of learning of Scott’s death (his family, friends and fans have dubbed it the start of Scotty’s ‘tour of the universe’), Lizabeth told me about an assignment in her theatre production studies class. Something to do with sewing. Something seemingly uninspiring. Liz asked me to look through my fabric swatches for four pieces of fabric she’d need for class the next day. I fell asleep mid-blog before starting the dig.

The next day I raced to the fabric store to hit the remnants bin. I own multiples of every craft supply in the known universe, but still find myself strangely unable to put my hands on them when I need them. (We once had a lovely craft room—some might have considered it a laundry room—full of neatly labeled and stacked boxes of supplies, but that real estate is needed for other projects now.) I bought six pieces of fabric—because an artist needs choices—and rushed down to Arizona School for the Arts.

For another day or two, Lizabeth worked diligently on the sewing project. James seemed puzzled that Liz and I spent so much time snuggled together on our overstuffed espresso-colored couch one evening as she sewed, because Liz had so much “academic” homework (physics, literature, etc.) that night. As much as we love ASA, I sometimes tire of the “academics before arts” mantra. (False dichotomy alert!)

Physics (for us, at least) does not have the power to heal. I knew the careful, methodical stitching was soothing to Lizabeth as she thought about Scott’s life and death. We had a good laugh too when I thought I heard her ask me how to make a “Hemingway stitch.” She’d said “hemming stitch” but I realized my error only after threatening to throttle Mr. Google when he couldn’t produce the goods.

Lizabeth finally gave up on me, as teenagers often will (and should) do. She pressed ahead with her project—a true masterpiece in the fine art of friendship. On a humble piece of muslin-colored cotton, just four inches tall and another four inches wide, she’d sewn a lion. The juvenile print flannel I’d given her didn’t make the cut.

Her lion began with a round circle of soft aubergine corduroy with the narrowest of wales. Attached was a matching tail along with two buttons for eyes—one round, the color of guacamole; the other a flower, bright pink like a newly-blossomed hibiscus. The lion’s head was encircled with strips of shimmering pinkish silver fabric—the mane.

The letters S-C-O-T-T-Y were stitched in bright yellow at the bottom of the piece. Had we known Scott better, Lizabeth might have sewn a fishnet tail. We learned that, and so much more, when we attended the memorial service (a celebration of life, really) for Scott on Saturday.

Lizabeth asked early on if she could speak at Scott’s service. We talked with an acting teacher at ASA who knows Scott well, and she suggested that Liz share her thoughts by writing a note to his family. I suppose you could consider this our virtual note. There are hundreds more on the We ♥ Scotty Jeffers Facebook page.

Today Lizabeth feels torn. She’d like to share her hand-sewn remembrance of Scott with his family. But she wants to keep it close. It reminds her of her new friend, recognized by his family early on as an “old soul.”

I think it reminds her too of one of the reasons she’s so drawn to theater. (Lizabeth tells me theater folk are her “tribe” and I am grateful they are there for, and with, her.) Theater is a place where everyone is fundamentally equal yet exquisitely unique. Scott might have had more eloquent, or irreverent, words for it. But this is the best way I can capture it as an onlooker rather than member of the tribe.

There’s a whole world out there I really haven’t thought about much. My old guitar. The Rocky Horror Picture Show. White water rafting. Thanks, Scotty. I never knew about Hamburger Mary’s. I hadn’t realized Lizabeth could beat box. I am learning so many things from you…

Your name will long shine on our marquee of memories…    

–Lynn and Liz

My Halloween costume was apparently a premonition; of sorts.  We’ll get to that, but first things first.

On Saturday night, a few of us abandoned the district for the greener sprawls of Kensington, MD.  It was the last night of a stage production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Patrick was both stage manager and videographer.

We almost didn’t make it.  We were all 300% sure that we were going to a) die or b) live the actual movie as we stumbled across a creepy castle in the wilderness.  With Google Maps on a Blackberry and two iPhones, we found ourselves looking for a street that didn’t exist, in a dark parking lot, trapped on a no-outlet street and followed by a minivan.

Verdict?  Google: you know nothing about Kensington, MD.

Once we actually got there, though, it was good — seamless video integration and full commitment by the actors.  We proudly sauntered in with a respectable collective load of RHPS experience.  None of us were show-virgins, which was sweet because some productions will mark a Rocky Horror virgin for easy cast access during the performance and then our fate could’ve been in the hands of alien transvestites.

When the show was over, I couldn’t help but think a few things:

1. I would like some Firefly vodka — the beverage of champions.
2. We should buy all 22 chapters of R. Kelly’s Trapped in the Closet.
3. Haven’t seen that much simulated sex since the mansion-cult-orgy scenes in Eyes Wide Shut.
4. I wish I hadn’t watched all that sex while sitting near 8 year-old children.

Let’s talk about those last two, shall we?  Cool.

It was a lot of humping.  Everybody got humped.  Everybody humped somebody.  It was also a lot of groping.  Everybody got groped.  Everybody groped somebody.  I realized I would never be an actor.  To not “show and tell” what it feels like when your parts and accessories are being worked over like a project on a tool bench is a talent with which some people are, clearly, just born.

Given all of that, it was weird that we were sitting in the crowd with at least 4 children.  Children.  Not kids; I call peers “kids.”  I mean children; as in people who had very recently spent time in a womb.

Remember how Dave Chappelle would scream, “Better not bring your kids?”  Yeah.  Saturday night was like that.  Great entertainment, we laughed a lot, but you weren’t supposed to bring your children.

They were there, seated two rows in front of us, for all of the cursing, dry-banging, face-sitting and crotch exploration.  The only scene they missed was the beginning of the second act.  Apparently, their guardian knew what was coming and decided that the tossing of used condoms was the line he couldn’t cross while holding the hands of 8 year-olds.

And we’re four, liberally-minded kids.  But seeing them see all of that?  Made us feel like the FCC did when Janet Jackson’s breast appeared at the Super Bowl.  It made me feel like a natural Mormon, not just someone who played one on Halloween night.  Somebody guessed that maybe they weren’t kids but four Benjamin Buttons, because the idea of us sitting in the midst of not one but four reverse-livers was less creepy.

Miss Bianca joked that it should make for an awesome show and tell at school this week.  There will be seven levels of awkward when ‘lil Bobby comes in with the ball gag he found in his dad’s sock drawer and Susie uses arts and crafts time to make three clay figurines that are definitely not playing leapfrog.

Yesterday, I hung out at Ryan’s house all day with him and Taylor. We watched Rocky Horror Picture Show, ordered some very delicious pizza, and watched American Beauty.

Taylor’s a really…interesting person. He’s nice and all, but his family is really redneck-ish. They go hunting a lot and his dad hates black people and Jews. (Way to be a stereotype, am I right?) Though, Taylor doesn’t seem to be like that. I mean, he seems to like me a lot. He said, “No lie, you’re a really awesome person.” So he doesn’t hate Jews. And he’s also friends with a lot of black people, so he can’t be racist against black people.

Taylor

Ok, so something really weird happened. When we were watching American Beauty, Ryan was laying next to me and we were sort of playing footsie. But only sort of.

Ryan

What am I doing? I can’t go around leading other guys on! I have Michael. But..but…Ryan and I really have compatible personalities. And he lives close by. And we both love watching movies. But I can’t- no way.

I really don’t want a boyfriend. I’m calling the Michael and the Ryan thing off. I hate dating- it stresses me out.

And some other things that happened when I was over at Ryan’s house:

• I bumped my head really hard on bed post. Both of the guys thought this was hysterical, which it kind of was. But my vision went all blurry, which I didn’t know actually happens to people.
• Chris called Ryan and found out that we were hanging out without him. Ryan and I laughed when we thought about the moment where you realize two people that you introduce become friends. It’s weird, right?
• I told the guys that there’s not a whole lot of things that will make me not date a guy. My two big things is that he can’t be girlier than me and he can’t have really bad acne. They burst into laughter and said that describes Chris exactly. I told them that the real reason I wouldn’t date Chris is because I thought he only liked me because I’m thin.
• We talked a lot about basketball. Or rather, they did. I made fun of them for being so obsessed with the sport. Ryan said he was going to try to get me into it.
• Taylor said he might be able to get me a job at this store that’s pretty close to my house. That would rock, especially considering I only have class past 11am two days a week.

In other news, I’m going to only post when I have something interesting to say. You can still probably expect posts 3-4 times a week, but I will not be posting anymore “Nothing happened today” posts. I was thinking, when I want to reread this blog, I’m going to hate myself for writing “Nothing happened today”

Bye

El Topo (1970)

"You are seven years old. You are a man. Bury your first toy and your mother's picture."

El Topo is the classic Mexican film hailed by John Lennon and Yoko Ono enough that it was shown at midnight in many cinemas for years. It is often credited as starting the midnight movie countercultural that helped bring attention to, and build cult film audiences for movies like The Rocky Horror Picture Show and David Lynch’s Eraserhead. In that respect it is far from a mainstream film, but it got enough attention that it is celebrated even today. I feel that this is with good reason, as El Topo is one of best films ever made. Chilean born Alejandro Jodorowsky directs and stars as the title character.

Mara and the woman who takes her from El Topo

El Topo begins with its eponymous character in the desert with his son. He tells the boy to bury a picture of his mother and his toy in the sand as now it is time for him to become a man. The boy is vulnerable but El Topo leads him by example while protecting him in their various interactions with others. The film understands the western genre and the machismo that often accompanies it. El Topo is one bad cowboy who can guarantee protection for anyone he cares about. So it really sucks when he soon leaves his son behind with a bunch of monks after emasculating some evil banditos. He leaves with a girl he saved and he names her Mara. Mara loves El Topo for being the alpha male that he is, so she convinces him to kill the four best gunslingers so he can be the baddest cowboy of them all. He manages to defeat them in various significant ways. These scenes are rich in biblical and other religious references and operate allegorically to show that being a bad cowboy isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be. Nevertheless, for better or worse, El Topo kills all four of them and begins to learn four specific lessons along the way. These four gunman represent opposing philosophies; far eastern philosophies, science, atheism, and finally utter nihilism.  He begins to feel guilty and while he is caught off guard during the beginning stages of his enlightenment, he is defeated by the unknown woman who followed El Topo and Mara during their journey. Viewing El Topo as vulnerable, Mara betrays him and leaves with this unknown woman gunslinger. El Topo’s battered and shot up body is taken away to a cave by a multitude of unseemly characters.

El Topo and Mara in the desert.

El Topo vanquishing one of many unlucky foes.

Macrocosmically, the journey for El Topo overall suggests that his travels represent the rise and trials of Judeo-Christian theologies, with the son representing new Judeo-Christianity and El Topo representing the old philosphies. The second half of the film seems to comment on more contemporary dealings and even anticipates what will happen in the future. How will El Topo’s son grow? How will he react to the father who abandoned him but who has himself grown? How will the dominant faith evolve? How will it maintain its truth and purity with humanity at the wheel?

El Topo is reborn!

In the literal sense, the second half of El Topo forwards to a few years later after he is brought to a cave by this band of deformed pariahs. When he wakes up we soon realize that El Topo is a different man. He shaves off his beard and head and dresses as a monk. He makes a plan to free these people from their cave so they can join the community outside. He plans to fund the building of a tunnel to free these people. He does this by going to the town with his dwarven girlfriend to entertain them with comedy and dancing, among other small jobs. The town itself is by no means a utopia as it is wrought with slavery and violence. A new priest at the church in town is revealed to be El Topo’s own son who he abandoned years earlier. El Topo’s son plans to kill him but he decides not to do so until the tunnel is complete. The tunnel gets finished and El Topo’s son decides not to kill him. Meanwhile, the deformed people are free and as they head to the town the villagers there begin to shoot and kill all of them, to El Topo’s dismay. El Topo unleashes his vengeance on the villagers, killing them all and in the process freeing their slaves. El Topo then lights himself on fire, which was a timely parallel to the Buddhist monks who did the same in protest of the Vietnam War. During his death, El Topo’s new son is born to his dwarven girlfriend. If the Buddhist references are consistent then this would suggest that El Topo is reincarnated as his own son and religious truth will continue to surface again.

El Topo preparing to engage in self-immolation.

Monks protesting in 1963 Vietnam likely inspired El Topo's finale.

I think it is important to note that the content in El Topo could be perceived as both perplexing and offensive to many movie-goers.  Some people hate this film and the reasons run from its combination of provoking aesthetic content and challenging messages to the film’s overall misunderstood atmosphere.  Alejandro Jodorowsky kills real animals, he uses real deformed and dwarfed people, and liberally applies nudity and violence throughout.  Some of his sets are drenched in blood.  It doesn’t offend me at all but I knew my wife wouldn’t like it and I understand why, so I mention it here just in case.

One of many promotional posters. This one is from Italy.

El Topo is a complex story with many odd details as well as many religious and philosophical references, from almost all major world-wide religions to philosophers and scientists like Nietzsche and Jung, that comment on a much larger scale. I’ve seen it many times and in my first few viewings I didn’t understand it and thought it was entertaining but pretentious. It is not pretentious. Microcosmically, El Topo is a film about a human being finding himself, and finding out all alone what it means to be alive. It is about independently becoming a good man as a good man is defined in the eyes of Alejandro Jodorowsky. It is obviously a deeply personal film for its director and it may not touch on elements personal to everyone in its audience, but it definitely did for me. Jodorowsky invokes religious references as a vehicle to express his own torments and challenges and how the enlightment experience for El Topo is merely mirroring his own experiences. It’s commentary addresses oceans of issues in many layers. Conjuring up the imagination to produce this web of ideas so alive is indeed an ambitious undertaking. I find El Topo to be profoundly inspiring in a way that few films are. Its significance alone should at least justify one viewing for you and I hope you get the same satisfaction that I did. Perhaps you will like it enough to enjoy El Topo again and again.

My rating is 5 out of 5 stars.

Zauberhafte Geschenkideen im Elbenwald
Sichert Euch schon heute die begehrten Zauberstäbe aus der Harry Potter-Welt, die glänzenden Elben-Bilderrahmen aus Der Herr der Ringe, kuschlige Schals aus den Blockbustern Twilight / New Moon oder das geheimnisvolle Kryptex aus Da Vinci Code.

Jetzt auf www.elbenwald.de!

Ohio Coroner’s Office: 6 Bodies Found at Rapist’s Home are Homicide Victims.

Normally when you find decomposing bodies in someone’s basement as opposed to a graveyard, go ahead and assume they didn’t die of natural causes.

After all, when Grandpa has a heart attack and dies, your first instinct normally isn’t to bury him in the basement.

Then again, with what they rape you in funeral costs nowadays, maybe that’s not such a bad idea.  If Grandpa doesn’t mind having an air hockey table above his grave really, what’s the harm?

All in all this is a horrific story, somewhat reminiscent of John Wayne Gacy, who forever gave clowns a bad name along with this guy:

Though Pennywise (from Stephen’s King It for those of you scratching your heads) was much more terrifying with the make-up off:

You don’t even want to know where he keeps his clown horn.

yesterday was Halloween, and so what did Emily and I do?  chores, of course!  and errands!  it wasn’t all bad, though; we went to see Paranormal Activity, rumored to be one of the scariest movies in recent memory if not everrr!  the verdict: pretty darn intense insofar as you either want to close your eyes at times or stare as hard as possible, trying to prep yourself for what’s coming.

the premise is a girl, who lives with her boyfriend, who has been “haunted” or followed by some supernatural being for years now, though this is the first time anything’s happened while living with the boyfriend.  so he decides to get a camera to record unusual events, and this, along with a few other things, pretty much incites whatever it is to get more aggressive.  which is bad.  basically, most of the action happens when you are watching the couple sleep, or try to sleep, each night.  so you stare at them or down the hall, straining your eyes and your ears, listening to shuffling or moving or some other god-awful sound.  some things are pretty freaky.

of course, all of this meant that Emily didn’t really sleep too well last night … which means neither did I.  sigh, no more scary movies for you, young lady.

anyway, after that we came back to make dinner and carve a pumpkin (well, I sketched, Emily carved).  this is the result:

I say she did a very good job.  we put it on the table facing out of the window so that kids would realize they could come get some candy, but only about 4 or 5 kids/groups came.  which means we have a bowl full of Nerds and Play-doh, if you want to come and get some.

after that, we made some more apple-buttercream cupcakes and watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

sexy.