poetry in commotion...

I call it Vegetable Soup

Which sort of means, I've got a little bit of everything today...call it several posts rolled into one. First things first; Mick McAndrew, my prodigal brother in arms, is finally back from his adventures in the British Isle, with stories and tales that probably aren't fit for female consumption. He made a surprise visit to my house last saturday, which completely erased my irritation of being woken up from my nap. I, like most of the guys, didn't really do much on Saturday, so perhaps next week it'll be the proper time to drink and be merry.

Asides from that I've been crazily doing all the reading I was planning on doing during the holidays. All recreational reading of course, I plan to just work myself solid next week, so call it my last meal before the hangman's noose. I've just finished the third book of a sci fi quartet by John Ringo. It's pretty decent, though it keeps itself from being one of my favourite sci fi series primarily because it's very very american centric. Essentially its very patriotic, and Americans are doing all the work, being the best, while everyone else gets wiped out. Ringo also makes the unforgivable assumption that the Americans saved Australia from Japanese invasion during WW2. It was highly debatable the Japanese had any plans to invade Australia due to the huge landmass and the troops needed to invade it, as well as the predominantly white population being a lot more difficult to assimilate compared to the Chinese or other asian ethnicities. Another useless piece of trivia you can say (with great chargrin I'm sure). I bought the fourth today which I'm planning on reading soon, and while I said I wouldn't, in the bookstore I found one my favourite books of all time which, until recently, had been out of print, and such was my joy I bought it straight away. I can hardly contain my joy, and although it may seem anti social, sometimes I truly agree that a good book is the best friend you can have. Sometimes.

Since I haven't gone out for the last 2 or 3 weeks, I've just been renting assorted movies to relax with over the weekends, namely Princess Diaries 2, Amelie, The Notebook, American Splendour and Rules of Attraction. I've watched Amelie before, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, so I thought I'd watch it again. For those that don't know, Amelie is a french movie about a painfully introverted girl (Amelie Poulain)with an overactive imagination, trying to win the love of her life. What I enjoyed most about the movie was the whimsical way the story was told, as well as the rich tapestry of colour of the scenic setting the story is based in. The characters are also equally eccentric, or in some cases neurotic, but in a way that makes them lovable in their own way. I cannot recommend this movie enough, and for those of you who haven't seen it, I heartily recommend you rent it out and watch it. Princess Diaries 2 is, of course, the sequel to the first Princess Diaries, and pretty much revolves around Mia trying to be married before a certain date otherwise she loses her throne to an evil minister and his handsome nephew. While there were some enjoyable scenes, I found the movie pretty childish, and it seemed to be aimed more at the 5-13 young female demographic, instead of the twentysomething male category that I fall under. I know, I know, it was a shock to me to, but hey, what's the world coming to when Disney makes movies for children. Not much more to say, except that the first was better. The Notebook is the usual love story of a love between a boy from a poor family and a girl from a rich family, narrated by an older man, who is telling the story to an elderly woman. The movie well, made me a little teary, but I'm sure it was due to dust mites or something. Good movie. As for the remaining two, I've heard rave reviews of American Splendour, though I haven't watched it yet, and I've also heard good things about Rules of Attraction, but haven't watched it yet, so I'll do a little mini review of each when I do, hopefully by this thursday.

Lastly, I came across an album called Joint Special Operations Task Force by General Patton vs The Executioners. Intrigued by the song titles ("Battle Hymn of the Technics Republic", "General P. Counterintelligence Target" ), and drawn by the artwork, I bought a copy. Its a weird and eclectic album, a mish mash hodgepodge of turntable technica, soundbites and pseudo hiphop/rap music, a bit like the Avalanches, except more urban. A very entertaining album that is difficult to describe, but has to be experienced. My only beef with the album is that some tracks start of stellar, but as you get into it, it suddenly cuts off into an electronic mess of static or wierd turntable scratchings.


Now for a seamless transition to epistolaries about vocabulary, what the hell is with everyone using the word random? It seems like everywhere I go, the word random is being used in a very erratic, eclectic and arbitrary way. While far from me to jump on a pedestal and tell you guys what words to use and not use, it seems to me that perhaps the word is like, totally being random, and all these randoms should stop randomly using random to describe every random thing. Annoying ain't it? Random is a good word, but one musn't use it exclusively, and if I can just educate people in alternative words, then my work is done.

Lastly, I can't remember who asked me this, but I was asked who my favourite poet was. I couldn't satisfactorily answer the question because there were so many. T.S Eliot, Charles Bukowski, Lord Alfred Tennyson, all of which I've read their works and have enjoyed particularly more than others. However, after pondering about it, the works of Rudyard Kipling was always foremost in my memory (Especially "The Ballad of East and West"). His themes of death and needless sacrifice of ordinary men, of clusterfucks by uncaring masters, and the brotherhood and comraderie of shared suffering in hellish times, and places, makes me tingle in a way that no other poet does, and I'm sure that if I could read 10 of his poems at once, I could achieve the state of pleasure one can only call an orgasm. On that note, I'll present to you an excerpt of one of his lesser known poems, "The Female of the Species" (1911). I think it accurately describes the more dangerous sex of any species.

When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in
his pride
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often
turn aside.
But the she bear thus accosted rends the peasant
tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than
the male.

- Rudyard Kipling
"The Female of the Species" (1911)



P.S - I'm finally on msn to talk and nobody does :( :'( T_T

posted by jaseypoo! @ 11:51 PM