Baley

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".

I'm pretty certain they've already picked it up: And I know what you mean, homes: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Korgoth_of_Barbaria <{POST_SNAPBACK}> Anyway, don't judge me: Futurama, Cowboy Bebop, The Simpsons, Johnny Bravo, Duck Dodgers, Justice League (+Unlimited), the one with the fat dude and the huge killer transformer and that, uh, hip-hop influenced anime: Samurai Champloo. Like, I know they can - with a few (obvious) exceptions - be pitiful, dumb and just plain awful at times, but I can't stop watching, I can't slap myself silly and bash the damn telly dead - cause I'm a sad sad nerd trapped inside a dashing young man's body. Well, except the dashing part: I'd settle for sexy, though plain ain't that be an adjective.

What happened to you, man? Poor Righteous Teachers - Black Business.

Have you ever seen Fist of Legend, Twin Warriors or the perfectly awful Lord of the Wu Tang? Fearless was, basically, a gigantic, easily-digestible cliche wrapped in hokum foil - melodramatic nationalism, cheap sentimentality, predictable plot, overt seriousness. Good flick though - the fight scenes were indeed magnificent (the best he's done in years) and the blind chick was hot. T'was just that, when he wasn't grappling at someone's balls, I was either snoring or barfing, depending on my mood. God, I sound like a real nerd, I'm sorry, Astro, I really am. Here's a vid of the bar skirmish with the bald Kung-Fu master guy, to make up for my earlier nerdish yelpings. And the cut Somluck Kamsing scene. God, I'd've watched a two and a half hour Fearless for Michelle Yeoh alone - I'm such a nerd. God, I'm so bored and nerdy and ugly and daft right now - sleep, I need sleep. The Alaskan remake - the Nolan flick.