Baley

The Golden Gate Quartet - Old Time Religion Give me that old time religion, Give me that old time religion, Give me that old time religion, It

Films: Naked, Hana-bi, Yojimbo, Down by Law, Le Samoura

You might get some kick out of Opiate. It's not as pretentious as their newer releases and some of the tracks are actually catchy. Still about as far from essential as human beings are able to get without turning into Belle & Sebastian. The Afghan Whigs - John the Baptist.

I ravel in the attention, certainly, your obsessive tendencies are pretty, uh, pretty. Though, yes, I do sometimes wish I could make past posts go poof. PS: Clear your inbox. Nina Simone - Strange Fruit.

Well, at least you're not bobbing to that Dota track. Charles Mingus - Better Get Hit in Yo' Soul.

Buju Banton - Hills And Valleys; suppose I should feel a little dirty on the inside - it's (t)his type of mentality screwing Jamaica up, but, I, well, uh, the(se) lyrics are pretty tame; I really need to hit the sack.

I've always been partial to John Cale's rendition - but yes, I agree, Buckley completely nails it, basically, he improves on the original in every conceivable way; and I love, Cohen, he's one of my favourite lyricists (along with Tom Waits, GZA, Pharoahe Monch and Rob Wright - eh, Mike Skinner ain't bad and neither is Nick Cave; eh, babble over.) PS: I got this from the Hallelujah's Wikipedia page - a list of H. covers. PPS: Tim Buckley - Gypsy Woman. I think I'm gonna look for my Mingus at Antibes tape - wait, no: Blues and Roots. I went book hunting the other day, looking for his autobiography (his life and writing gets my mental mojo huddling), well anyway, I couldn't find it and ended up with: Gal

I thought the dubbing gave it a great old-school feel - watching Kung-Fu flicks in their native language (as opposed to English) makes me feel dirty and foul inside; granted, I do get over it fast if the action's worthwhile. Iron Monkey - directed by Woo-ping Yuen (who choreographed: Fist of Legend, The Kill Bill Flicks The Matrix Flicks, Kung Fu Hustle, Fearless, Danny The Dog, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon etc.). And I know you said no Jet Li, but he starred in one of the great HK mystical mumbo-jumbo flick: Lord of The Wu Tang As you can see - it's absolutely brilliant. PS: I watched Mean Streets and Port of Shadows (Le Quai des brumes) - both good, yet hardly essential. I'd definitely recommend Mean Streets to just about anyone, while the Carne flick, well, like most pre-WW2 French Films, it's incredibly dated, Jean Gabin's the man, though, and I rather like the camera-work.

Jeff Buckley - Hallelujah.

Minutemen - Jesus And Tequila.

He makes me laugh... shut up! Sidelong Glance. (I just wish I could find the whole set online.)

Definitely. It could've been yours for a quarter mil. Cecily Brown - Pyjama Game, Oil on Linen. Cecily Brown - Hard, Fast and Beautiful. Oil on Canvas. Chien-Chi Chang - The Chain. Now, I sit here and wonder which of you awful degenerates'll be the first to post The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife. Which reminds me, there was this wave by Hokusai I really liked, not the famous one, uh, guess I'll sleep on it. One of his pupils painted the (sorta) famous Family Values, right? I'll try getting a few Nykvist screen captures tomorrow in honour of the great master. Until then, here's two from Robert Bresson's Le Proces De Jeanne D'arc (shot by L

Bucharest, Romania.

Denis Peterson - "Untitled" 39"x39" Acrylic and oil on canvas. Robert Doisneau - Les Enfants de la Place Hebert, Gelatin Silver Print. Robert Doisneau - Le Basier de L'Hotel de Vilne, Gelatin Silver Print. http://www.staleywise.com/collection/doisneau/doisneau.html

Saul Williams - 1987. I (still) like it. Good delivery, some interesting lines here and there, fancy meaningless stanzas succeed fancy meaningless stanzas - woah, deep. Sure, talented, modest(?) and all around likable, but, this cat, he so often floats on pretentious - hot air - baloons. The S/T was a pretty solid improvement, a nice step forward if you will. Heard Reznor's (co-)producing the next one. Not too sure what to think about that - we'll see.

Syd Barrett - She Took a Long Cold Look.

Steaua Bucharest 0 - 3 Olympique Lyon. I'm ecstatic; the fascistic, homophobic, ultra-religious bastards just lost (big time). Earlier today (or was it yesterday?), a number of priests (4, I think) were brought over to purify the pitch. Made the headlines, front page, big ass photos - the usual. I desperately need to tease my mate over the cell-phone (for at least 10 minutes), and then hit the sack, smile on my face, woody in my undies, you know, the, uh, usual. Oh: Poor Righteous Teachers - Selah.

I'll say "happy birthday", sure, or better yet, I'll write it: Happy Birthday... to both of you.

Hank Williams - Beyond the Sunset I was gonna make a post - it's already written (as I type, a few centimetres above this sentence) - on how I'd like to have this song (along with John Coltrane's Serenity, Killah Priest's Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth and Poor Righteous Teachers' Selah) played at my funeral. Problem is: a) I'm not gonna have one, you see, Baley's going dust|ashes in 40 or so sad, wild years and b) my song-induced screech was boring, banal and daft (more so than the usual). Oh well. I'll go watch the soccer game. Lyon's leading Steaua 1 - 0. Should be fun. I'm not a Steaua Fan and the frogs are my kind of peeps - live and cuddly.

I've always considered it his best film - it's been a while since I last saw it, though: a year or two at the very least, maybe more. Yeah, I think it'll make for a decent sunday-night flick.

You know, S, I didn't really need to know that, I mean, my life might've seemed bland, maybe austere, to all the wild he-men of the world, but at least I could - looking in my bedroom mirror each morning|night - see some semblance of niceness, of childlike innocence. I don't see that any more - knowledge has once more crushed purity. Such is the world. Such is humanity. Weep. Weep. Bawl. Bawl. Time for Porn - straight|human|no fetish - maybe lesbos from outerspace?

No, no; Death Metal -> Sweden. Black Metal -> Norway.

Let's hit it, boys: I call dibs on the K9 suit. Wuff. Wuff.

Dude, if you enjoyed Fearless, I can't but recommend (and I do this a lot) Fist of Legend. Apart from being a 99 minute joyride of almost constant kung-fuing - sorta like a porn flick, just replace sex with asskicking - it's an interesting take on Chinese-Japanese WW2 relations. Both sides are portrayed realistically: no villanizing, no glorying (at least on a national level). Billy Chow's one great bad guy, and, uh, just check out that review: it's better than whatever I could come up with in 10-15 wild minutes. PS: For what it's worth, it's up there in my top 10 of all time, alongside Welles, Bergman and Kitano. Anyway, I'm gonna watch a film tonight, and I've narrowed it down to: Things To Do In Denver When You're Dead, Jackie Brown and House of Fools (Dom Durakov). Any of you cats have any endorsements?

Like, I can't bring myself to trust grown-up men who care for - or seek companionship with - fluffy-wuffy felines. I get all eww and sanctimonious and preacher-like self holy. I make these haughty faces (involuntarily, natch) while they parade their tiny fluffsters incessantly; don't get me wrong: it's not disgust or dread, it's - I suppose, deep down - my own tacit want (or need) for fuzzy-wuzzy brotherhood. And then I close my eyes and think amity-wamity thoughts whilst slobbering outwardly and crying inwardly - begging the bad man to stop whoring his object d'affection on me. I guess what I'm trying to say is: Adieu, Neverwinter Nights 2. Bonjour, Fashion Tycoon 2005. I do wish you chaps at Obs'd sport quaint Freddy Mercury-like staches from time to time. I really do. Oh, almost forgot: nice cat, hope it don't gash too much. Edit: "fluffy" instead of "fluff".