None the makings of an artist
July 23, 2010 at 11:56 am | Posted in Sarcasm | 16 CommentsMental block, yes, that’s what this is, my current inability to put my thoughts in paper, to put some sense into my daily train of thought. Not writer’s block, mind you, for I have none of the makings of a true writer. It always feels comforting to have a name for everything we experience and sense. Or, maybe, I’m simply running out of topics to talk about.
As long as you’re passionate about it, go follow your dream. Mom says. You’re more likely to succeed in something you deeply love. Yeah, says the one who studied chemistry, for reasons that it’s practical and that it was what they would have wanted for her, and ended up being a secretary here. People tend to have romanticized ideas about careers in the liberal arts, forgetting what matters most, more than ambition, motivation, and passion, the gift. Let’s get realistic here, Paulo Coelho, and don’t go giving such big hopes for a lot of young hopefuls, only to later let their hearts be broken by the jungle-like industry.
Epitomization of beauty
I just don’t have the makings of an artiste. The eccentricities that come along with it, compared to them artists I seem commonplace. The artist’s easy access to the workings of the human heart and mind. Her effortless command over the language. His innate capability to easily go into the inner depths of the soul, the ability to epitomize both beauty and ugliness. Her eye for intricate detail. His eye for seemingly flowing words. The ability to shock, disturb, discomfort. The ability to pull its audience’s heartstrings. And not to mention all the effort and work and their willingness to devote their whole lives to their work. I just admire this but I have none of that.
And once a bunch of ambitious teens start studying in the fields of liberal arts, most, especially the ones who thought it was all going to be a piece of cake, seem to lose all interest once they see how complex the creating process is, how troublesome the whole researching process is and how competitive it is out there, not to mention all the sucking up you would have to do. What a great way to burst people’s bubbles, show them a dose of reality, what they’re up against. They seem to be oblivious that (although Youtube has given us easy access to great films from across the world and from older periods, conquering space and time) this Youtube culture has ruined art or anything that might resemble it for the next generations. They seem to forget that most so-called great artists have only gained a real audience or obtained critical acclaim, glory, etc. after their untimely deaths or any other event before that which might seem news-worthy or controversial.
Of course, since it’s a dirty business out there, if you don’t have the gift, you could always choose to be a sell-out. That’s not hard. Use excessive sentimentality and be like Nicholas Sparks and Stephenie Meyer to appeal to the pop culture-influenced idiots among the masses. Never get outside their comfort zones, or you’ll lose your audience. Never use big words; they seem to have an irrational fear for complicated words. Market yourself as a brand, your book as a mere household product, because that’s what capitalism is for. Just do that, and, ta-da, your book has just been this week’s bestseller. What seems to matter most anyways is whether your work will be of any profit to them bigshots who make the calls. Your whole career depends on a bunch of wealthy people in the business field who know nothing whatsoever about art. Of course, your name wouldn’t be written among the names of people who have vastly contributed to history and mankind including great artists, filmmakers, novelists, etc. and the name will soon be forgotten once the passing fad is over but you’ve just influenced the next generations. Because of you, now they’re a bunch of illiterate, counterrevolutionary, and naive blubbering idiots. Gosh, thanks.
Room 69
July 13, 2010 at 12:30 am | Posted in Cinema, Heterophobia | 12 CommentsDid you guys miss me? Hehe, of course not. But, still, I’m back and, to make up for my week of absence in the blogging world, I just created an epic list, a list of my most favorite gay films. Cinema and homosexuality, these are a few of my favorite things. And, with all the descriptions and comments I’ve made, let’s note that I haven’t seen these films in a while, since I rarely go back to watching a film I’ve already seen unless I haven’t seen it in a long time so the comments I’ve made are based on what I’ve vaguely remembered about them. So, forgive me. Here it is, uber-long with pictures and all.

6. Taxi Zum Klo (Frank Ripploh, West Germany, 1980)
Fisting, gloryhole in public toilet cubicles, cum-swapping, and pissing, after cumming, over your sex partner’s face? Definitely, not my kind of thing but that’s just how realistic and bold gay sex is portrayed in this otherwise fabulous film.
The film, a possibly autobiographical one, presents an unsympathetic hero, a promiscuous gay man, definitely quite the stereotypical or archetypal gay man and not the greatest role model for gay people, but depicted as a human being with flaws. Now that he has found a partner who has no eyes for anyone else but him and who loves him so much, he shows more self-destructive behaviour, not wanting to be monogamous and in a real relationship, as he continues to hook up with more men and to live a life of promiscuity and intoxication. And this is all told in the least commercial and least mainstream sense, but still with sweet and romantic scenes such as the lovers’ dance on ice.

5. Happy Together (Wong Kar-Wai, Hong Kong, 1997)
This is the only film in my list that was actually directed by a heterosexual filmmaker, adding to that a contemporary filmmaker known to most cinephiles. And it surely doesn’t seem from an outsider’s perspective but more from someone who knows about human relationships. No matter how many times film buffs whine about how this is not a gay film, this is still a gay film. It is a film about a gay couple, for crying out loud, idiots. It may not be a conventional gay film and it may be made by heterosexual filmmakers, but it is still a gay film. Got that? Okay.
Okay, another film about a gay couple, one a self-destructive person, the other someone who just wants their relationship to work out. See the trend here? But this time, Happy Together, unlike Taxi Zum Klo, is all shown in vivid imagery, lucid colors, and romantic tones. And, this time, the focus is more on the stable guy, played by Tony Leung, as he meets someone who might be more of an ideal partner than his current one who picks fights, gets drunk, needs all the attention and flirts with men in front of his lover. And, sisters, I won’t spoil it for you all but it doesn’t exactly end in an either tragic or happy ending.

4. Tongues Untied (Marlon Riggs, USA, 1990)
It is an essayist film by a black gay director that touches on themes of race, sexual orientation and self-identity in a less sentimental and more gritty way than most saccharine Hollywood films that pretend to be politically correct and socially relevant and on issues one might never get to see being dealt with in contemporary Hollywood films.
Turn the gay black men in this film to any other gay non-white men and lesbian woman in the world, and you’ll see how universal this film is. But, of course, the film deals more with the director’s personal experiences being a gay black man, specifically the difficulties of being black and openly gay in a homophobic community and neighborhood, such as the exclusion of gay black men in the brotherhood or friendship of black men, the homophobic jokes of Eddie Murphy and homophobic comments of black characters in films, and dealing with AIDS-related deaths of friends. But not all of the film is about the social injustice and discrimination and all serious, as we do see part of the gay black culture in certain communities in USA during those times such as the “voguing” and get a lesson from a bunch of divas on the proper way to snap.

3. Scorpio Rising (Kenneth Anger, USA, 1964)
I always thought that the gay culture seems more suiting and more idealistic as an underground culture, not something forbidden and restricted to others but something not easily accessible and with less restraints. I always associated it with non-conformity, non-conventionality, idealism and obscurity so it does seem right that most of the best queer films are art house, experimental, and avant-garde films.
Although overt gay themes in the film are not obvious and clear especially to an outsider and as far as I remember the film does not blatantly show gay men in love or having any kind of intimate or sexual acts together, Scorpio Rising does appeal and reach more to its gay audiences with its fetishistic gaze on biker boys all clad in black leather, its gay iconography and the gay filmmaker’s indulgence and masturbatory pleasures on these images of mostly biker gangs set to 1960′s pop music, mostly songs by female singers singing about love. And there’s James Dean and Marlon Brando, and I don’t think you can get any gayer than that. The whole thing was just a hallucinatory and dreamlike experience, as if I was in Cloud 9.

2. Un Chant D’amour (Jean Genet, France, 1950)
Jean Genet’s lyricism in his novels mostly about amorality, gay sexuality and crime is evident in his only film, Un Chant D’amour (translated to A Song of Love). In this silent short art house film, the wall between two cells prevents two horny, gay prisoner studs from having any kind of intimacy or physical contact with each other. Just like Kenneth Anger’s Scorpio Rising, Jean Genet’s film also shows the filmmaker’s pleasures in his own sexual fetishes and his camera’s seductive gaze on the young men.
Normally, the cinematic gaze would be on women, such as Bunuel’s fetish for female legs and Rohmer’s whole film about a hero’s obsession with the titular character’s knees. Maybe, one of the many reasons why I love this film is its subversiveness, now the gaze being upon men and their sensual bodies. The erotic dancing, touching of one’s own body and the sharing of cigarette puffs through a tiny hole on the wall. The warden’s sexual frustration and jealousy as he beats up one of the prisoners and puts a gun in the prisoner’s mouth. Phallic imagery, much?

1. The Raspberry Reich (Bruce LaBruce, Canada, 2004)
Obviously, this is my most favorite gay-themed film, since I even named my own blog title after this one. That’s how much I love the film. So, yes, neither am I a neo-Nazi or do I love raspberries. But I do love the didacticism, subversiveness, wildness and fun of it all, not to mention the softcore gay sex scenes.
Gudrun, the female leader of an otherwise mostly male terrorist group, is determined to destroy everything normal and conforming to social norms. Unlike most who have seen it, I didn’t see the whole thing as a parody or satire on leftist politics. I saw the flawed characters as people who do have great revolutionary ideas but who don’t have the right means and resources and who, most of the time, don’t know the heck what they’re doing. And, in the end, instead of continuing to be terrorists, they become normal citizens, not conforming but learning to deal with society. But, let’s overlook the filmmaker’s intentions with his story for the time being and enjoy the film’s over-the-top campiness, its arousing sex scenes and its political statements enormously written across the screen. There is no revolution without sexual revolution. There is no sexual revolution without homosexual revolution.
Sports Shmorts
July 2, 2010 at 11:11 am | Posted in Snobbery | 16 CommentsMy father and my aunt are religiously tuning in to the Wimbledon Cup. Being another avid fan of tennis, my idol and the future ruler of the universe, Jessica Zafra, if I’m not mistaken from the posts in her blog, is currently in Wimbledon watching the whole competition live. My cousins and cousin-in-laws are hardcore basketball fans, one pair for the Celtics and the other for the Lakers, with a few disappointments for the one whose favorite team lost a couple of weeks ago(?). Most of my friends are passively watching the FIFA World Cup, every each one of them rooting for her preferred country and almost everyone cheering for the popular favorites and never for the underdogs.
This summer seems to be quite a sportsfest for almost everyone, and there’s a little something for everyone. And where am I in all this? I absolutely don’t care for sports, whether it is being watched or played, whether actively or passively. Everything I learned about sports and games in P.E. went in one ear and quickly worked its way out the other ear. All I know is Novak Djokovic is hot and Cristiano Ronaldo is not.

Ohh-la-la, Novak Djokovic ♥.
Here’s my reasoning. Sports involves either two teams trying to shoot, kick or throw the ball to the other team’s goal (soccer, football, basketball, hockey), two or more individuals trying to outrun or outmatch the other (car racing, horse racing), or a ball or a projectile going back and forth between two opposing individuals or teams until the ball hits the ground (volleyball, tennis, table tennis, badminton). Any differences may be in the variations in sports equipment and rules. Golf is another thing, but then again that’s quite a dull sport for mostly rich wealthy men who have none of the strength and vitality to play anything else, and baseball and cricket are just a little bit more complicated but it all boils down to the same thing. I know I’m oversimplifying the whole thing but that’s the way I see sports.
And all these sponsoring, commercial advertising, several sports players with the looks, pizazz, and the personality gaining celebrity status, and their managers trying to give specific players all the publicity they can get aren’t my kind of thing either. And just like with TV and film celebrities, the idiotic masses always feel the need to know everything and anything that happens to these celebrity players outside the court.
And I never understood those hardcore sports fans who do stuff like painting their faces up with all the colors of either the team’s logo or the country’s flag. And I just heard that they auctioned a sports player’s shirt, a hockey player’s if I’m not mistaken, for more than a million dollars. Um, I know the meaning of value is different for everyone but I just wish that whoever bought that hopefully dirty, unwashed, ragged, thing regrets buying the completely worthless thing. What’s the best you can do with that thing? Hang it like a poor animal’s head on your wall and boast about it to your friends? Pathetic. And they call geeky people like me freaks.
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