sweeney todd

visually sweeney todd from its very first frame (i loved the opening credits in all its abstraction) was an immense pleasure for me.
i adored alan rickman's voice and it seemed obvious to us that he used the same timbre as in the potter-films. shivers... i loved one line that sweeney todd said whilst holding up his new/old razors: "At last! My arm is complete again!" it seems interesting that additionally to all the visual keys of him being 'different' he considers himself incomplete when without a prosthesis. screams very loud in one certain direction, does it not. not that i put in words so eloquently, but the last scene, i totally agree with fe, seems to be a reversed pièta and was just beautiful beyond words. the same goes for helena bonham carter - very yummy and tragically funny.



i loved how the innocent, be it thought or thing or living being, was practically erased (see: erase, raze, razor) from the plot ...
i found it mildly disturbing that i couldn't watch the ads before the movie itself without analysing their potential misogynistic attitude. so, my hidden creeping radicalisation, as wb put it, seems obvious to me now, too. well, but perhaps i will never be fundamental and radical.

i so loved being in the cinema!

i also watched pan's labyrinth in a very poor quality but very much enjoyed it. somehow 'the fantastic' has found a very solid base in my heart and is a source of constant stimulation and pleasure which is good. there should be more magic. which, quite obviously, is why i bought a sweater that looks very glittery, see here:


re: misogynistic or magic. not too much thereof in germany's next topmodel, sadly lacking glitter and magic and disturbing grace, at least when the first episode. it seems to be turning into another dsds (well, it never was anything else, i know!) what with forcing people to commit ridiculing crimes. i very much am for sandra at the moment but do think that jennifer and raquel are cool and i am so curious about what happens to gina lisa, seriously.

ronja räubertochter

i went to my absent flatmate's bookshelf and took away something! without asking. but i will return the lovely tale of ronja räubertochter so that nobody needs to cry. so much is for sure. it was a pleasure reading it, i am not sure if i actually ever did read it when i was younger. i did read pippi langstrumpf though and loved it very much.
well, but i once again, as ronja really, discovered how much brutality is in words and hurt some people i don't even care about by saying that their performance was making me want to go run out of the room and discover the beauty of emesis. in fact, i am sadly lacking the ability to shut my mouth. i realise i should but i don't and hurt and ridicule and embarras. i feel that people who are using an audience as their therapist which they obviously are in need of, are making me aggressive to a very dangerous extent. probably that's something i really can't stand. as well as i can't stand those precocious, arrogant mindfuckers who think they know everything and are in a position to enrich the world with it all the time.

*** or is it just that they are so similar to me?

sophie calle

here we go with a little film with and about french artist sophie calle, directed by a very trying ben lewis. funny and interesting. i would like to really recommend it, although it doesn't have this 'somewhat-below-10-minutes-i-can-concentrate-on-length' but is about half an hour. there is even rosalind kraus in it and she explains about mallarmé's thought on books' clefts.
it was refreshing to see and hear calle (presenting herself) as being 'completely accidental' when being so deep whilst in fact having no idea about barthes or derrida or whoever. makes me want to be happy



and did you know that forced entertainment's exquisite pain is actually based on a project by sophie calle? i didn't, but i made the connection nonetheless when in the documentary they quoted from this 'red book' "5 days ago the man i loved left me" and also the red phone. it's strange how such seemingly ordinary things as a sentence of no higher 'quality' than any other or the picture of a red phone got burned into my memory that i was instantly reminded of it again. beautiful. i had seen the production in volksbühne last year or the year before.

manifesto for the dada of the cyborg-embrio

"|...| s/hit is a natural narcissist (pleasurable self-therapy through self-eroticism & sex) as the psyche has to accomodate for loss-of-form, fear of transformation:
identity= CLOUD of the most probable whereabouts

|...| loss and becoming are part of one process: mutilation is loss&becoming at the same time: lose an arm>become a fountain, get blown to pieces>get a new shape, get killed>become eatable left-overs"

i adored the cloud. and i guess that splatter is just another way of accepting and being honest with each other. hans a. scheirl who wrote these words above and has this manifesto published in the eight technologies of otherness, ed. by sue (or johnny) golding, by whom i, incidentally, was utterly impressed, is a painter/filmmaker living in london who did the film dandy dust >>>



now cy know.

...

nothing much happened.

indeed, the 'nothing much' just 34 minutes ago was bruce darnell's styling show which is just booooring. it's ridiculous, really. and it's not so so bad that it would be funny.

much time today was spent with reading beatriz preciado and trying to grasp the dildo, literally (... lol), which was not so bad, really. i would not say, by all means, i understand everything she writes, but some of her thoughts about the technologies of sex seem interesting to me and i loved how her text worked. it also made me laugh at certain points, especially those connected to kellog. if you wanna know, go buy the manifesto contrasexual. or watch this (so sorry, nothing about kellog here):

dissemination

machine machine machine

go
there was
we'll be back
i had
go
there was
no other and i so
it evolved and then
go
there was

i can't speak so don't you
what
i
so adored little pieces that are floating and i am standing drenched and am just so filled with happiness
keep drowning me
oh the little rains that
i so
go there was
love
and
go
there was

machine machine machine

there is no other than everything else
i go and there was love and i go and there is a machine

i am standing drenched and am just so filled with happiness

it shows

i want to burst burst burst
disseminating my
go there was
love

reminded - of - being - reverse
you is past is now is for not-matter-now-past
always
go
love
machine
love
machine
love
machine
go

valentinsüberraschungen

i am very unsure. this morning i just wanted to post this for all those happy singletons out there to have their own private moment of roses and lips.
everything would have been nice.

but now, i cannot believe what i've found in the popular german student plattform studivz. i am still rubbing my eyes. i am still rubbing my stomach (can there be something in between laughter and puking?)
have a good look. i won't take any responsibility. no. they get bigger when you click on them...







oh joy. and it's only thursday. but there's beer in the fridge. speaking of the fridge. perhaps it is because i am so terribly fri(d)gid that i think the above a little irritating. you know, kinda i don't wanna know that specific ... but i guess i wanted to share it with you.

and another pun which i thought irritating as well: when speaking about criteria that determine ones life in german you can speak of 'kriterien'. now think about a chinese person and the difficulty of pronouncing 'r'. so 'kriterien' becomes 'kliterien'. unfortunately i can't quote exactly but it was interesting to hear (and with a chinese accent, too) somebody speaking of how the kleitorizein (greek for tickle and clitoris derives from there) determines life. yes, your clit determines your life. (anyhow, it was not in a funny context, so i better don't laugh).

"ich möchte lieber nicht"

i watched romero's "dawn of the dead" this morning after a healthy breakfast. everything stayed inside and i seriously have to rethink my attidtude towards horrormovies. it was very interesting, not at all unintelligent, in my humble opinion anyways. i cannot properly understand why they've put it on the index.

o, and lately there was "damage" on the telly. i so love jeremy irons, he makes my knees all melty and my heart all beaty ... (and i must confess my continued support of whimisicality) - there was this line which anna barton (juliette binoche) said to stephen flemming (jeremy irons): "Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive." i pretty much agree and hoped it would be otherwise. because we have to at least try to understand that not one single action takes place without damaging or violencing somebody or something. we're all elephants in a fucking big shop of fragile items that just scream of being shattered. but they're not breaking apart. nobody breaks apart. they're just moving millimeters. it seems allright. fine. but nothing is in place. and a bomb begins to tick. it might never explode literally. but still, we need to consider that this hideous violence in all our doings and relations to the world makes the world shift slightly. but they'll get back to you. they always will. even if it is just by the fact of putting up no signals when you're heading towards a cliff. guess what, cliffhangers are just for films.

and another film with juliette binoche i've only just recently seen was michael haneke's "caché" - you have to see it, that's really all there is to say. such tension, such brutal force of deconstructing 'realities', such brilliant acting and so little to do but accept failure and face responsibilities. amazing, also from a point of the film's filmic properties. brilliant.

tonight there was a lecture of one young dramaturg in some semi-shady place called wahlkreis in semi-shady mitte on reinhardtstraße (just no semi-shady blonde with me, but two brunettes who could easily be taken as my relatives) with kurt beck and die grauen panther at the wall (it was an event hosted by sdw, look that up and imagine the crowd, you might get a (however 'right') impression). he, the guy speaking, is doing his dissertation thesis on love and intrigue in harry potter which he also spoke about. i was, unfortunately, quite bored and wondering why he even has an (art)university diploma related to theatre when he obviously had no idea about his own effect apart from being the smartass. (he went to court for getting 1.0! he sued until everybody was pissed of with him. incidentally and speaking of ass, i have been on the loo when he was, too, which was funny). no, he made an effort which was done to no good effect to me. i guess, it pretty much showed that he attended carl hegemann's courses, what with quoting himself, schiller, goffman and wagnerian stuff. well, he said he was always compared to harry potter and his boss, some female minister from some unnamed ministery (where he was working some unspecified period), to dumbledore, that he started reading the books then and now likes harry best. i am really too much into severus snape to be prepared for discussion on that specific aspect of the potterverse. i mean, seriously ...

iloveitsomuchitmakesmecrysoveryhardinmyhead

one trollop's gossip

so, i have to confess, i am no good at telling sexual orientation. rather bad, really. anyways. came to think of it when speaking about possible job opportunity earlier and then tonight talking to fe about a person who is just delectable and was spotted there where i was.
there have been other people as well (who would have guessed, really, karl improve your dramaturgy):
obviously isabella rossellini who was wearing a rather mother guru like black dress with some white jewelery. dress was not showing figure or if so then not to best advantage... no, but delighted. she was giving interviews. i was watching from above, feeling oscillating between goddess and michel de certeau . wonder if 2 floors is high enough for such action.
anyways she was interviewed by dieter moor and many others, but didn't speak to the assembled people which i guess is alright. she drank water, like myself ( :) ) which was gerolsteiner which i cannot stand. well, then we had the cheap crew, lovely miss vaginal davis
, who, i cannot spare you, spent 10 minutes at the ladies' with make up bag, came back, sat classy in loungy chair, was being pampered and entertained by darling little boys (including the delectable which, obviously, is not telling the whole saga), one of whom came to press make up tissues when performance of cheap for their cheapy award ceremony was due. it's a thing i gave at least three seconds of thought, miss rossellini (have i told you that the green porno was really rather great - she incarnated different male insects and described the sex act of specified insects - great!) came, not too classy i guess, but was surrounded by cameras and even two autograph craving guys, whereas miss davis was the classy madame nana with the tissue thing and lovely guys, too. female classiness knows no boundaries.
anyways, who else. well, scarlett wasn't there which was no pity. enough female classiness with the misses davis, rossellini and little me.
spotted peaches and also guy maddin and jerry tartaglia (which made sense, because he was hosting the jack smith screening later on).
well, so much for the gossip which really is inspired by the lovely gossip studio cheap and the arsenal created in the atrium of sony centre. check it out, it's worth it, really: bar, b_books store (which is just a bookshop to die for (i, personally would rather kill for that specific place, because where'e the fun in being dead in a bookshop?). the buergels could tell you if they would be talking to you), cheap shop, installation art. nice. and you just might meet interesting people. or not.
fe had the nicest hair really. well perhaps apart from the delectable's ones.

i am concerned and i wonder

it is due to whatever reason that i am spending hours not doing 'rational' things. well, but still, there is not not thinking about what i encounter which is good somehow, i guess. so here we go with some of the nicest things i have read recently and it makes me sick:




i especially like the 'female intern' part.
ann is very good at outing homosexual politicians. perhaps that is a good job i could go for, too. she called al gore a 'total fag'. and she knows that bill clinton 'may not be gay', but stated the opposite which was not based on personal experience but is a joke, as known in publishing.
i so not not not love her! what do you think of her? (she has nice hair btw, really need to send her a note asking where she's having it done, maybe i can be her female intern and accompany her to all things hair and beauty connected and be a little comfort in such horrid times)
and - there is chris crocker and his trying to make public the homophobia on youtube. which is a huge controversy at the moment and all the comments he receives can make you sick, i promise. so if you wanna be sick check the comments to his vids. some of my favourites:



you haven't checked on chris crocker? well, shame, really. due to that you have now missed the internet boyfriend search, but you can still watch the response vids. funny anyway, vid is gone but response still there. is it like the unoriginated origin of things? wow, like there are traces, too.
incidentally, one of the other things i did, was reading high quality literature and now know that the movie is better than the book. congratulations to the storyliners of bridget jones. but, anyways, i was stuck reading rabidly and feel older than my identity card tells me due to being able to identify with so much older lunatic spinster. now it's finished and i can keep on wondering and later watch insect porn with darling isabella. i am so looking forward to seeing her. unquotable sources even speak of scarlett attending the opening. if you wonder, which is alright - when the wonder is gone there is no more child in you to keep on exploring - the arsenal, the berlinale and green porn.
oh joy, yesterday's nightie outie was nice, got advances from 60 year old crumply face and wondered. also there was some creating of new words with ruc and jk. i would love to keep in mind the 'metavulväre genouille' which obviously derives from einer hinterfotzigen, das genieren erhöhenden unangenehmen situation wie in der scheiße stecken (aka bredouille) which can easily be translated. but i won't.

depressive versager mal bitte hinhören

... made my day :)

for the emokid in you to care about

in a way, many things not only recently just really annoy me. i behave like a mindnumb teenager most of the time for no apparent reason. in a way that is also quite satisfying because no one really needs to care about emoesque gibberish. that's the part where it gets funny because - yes! ... no, i don't know how that should be funny. well, anyways.

*** this was my lame take on how to be the emokid that screams - 'nobody listens to me and i am so bored, depressed and lonely. life sucks.'

** is this so different?

* why then?

rosey's white rabid - omg, it's so sad

i thought this was the saddest thing i have ever seen. even more sad so than when you walked away.

the horrors - she is the new thing

very good animation. good hair, too. and nice tütü.
loved it.

everything is illuminated

i am again at the bottom of an unstoppable wheel, and when i feel my eyes close for death, as they have and will a thousand times, i awake. (39)

the shtetl was painted with the doings of its citizens, and since every color was used - except for that of the counter, of course - it was impossible to tell what had been touched by human hands and what was as it was because it was as it was. (200)

i must inform you, jonathan, that i am very sad person. i am always sad, i think. perhaps this signifies that i am not sad at all, because sadness is something lower than your normal disposition, and i am always the same thing. perhaps i am the only person in the world, then, who never becomes sad. perhaps i am lucky. (227)

and so it was when everyone tried to speak: their minds would become tangled in remembrance. words became floods of thought with no beginning or end, and would drown the speaker before he could reach the life raft of the point he was trying to make. it was impossible to remember what one meant, what, after all of the words, was intended. (261)