Posts tagged review
a skeletal, severely abbreviated fraction of autobiography. reading more like excerpted annotated outlines of a memoir, barely stretching just over a hundred pages padded with ample textless chapter divisions etc. worth it for the inimitable Chet Baker deadpan —near catatonic— stoicism that somehow, in its seemingly para-human indifference and detachment, conveys such an elevated sensitivity, psychic fragility and diffuse air of melancholy and portent that only such impassivity could delicately enough carry. and also for vignettes like these:
[of his experience aboard a troopship bound for Germany after enlisting in the Army illegally at 16] There was vomit everywhere, you could not escape the smell of it no matter where you went on the ship. Since there wasn’t anything alcoholic to drink, some of the guys mixed Aqua Velva with fruit juice. Everyone was getting loaded and fighting. Some went blind from the noxious aftershave mixture. Altogether, it was a trip I could not easily forget.
I spent a couple of weeks at her apartment, but unfortunately some joker ripped off the door of her Corvette when I was using the car. He didn’t even stop. We had a few words about that, and fought about some other things as well. It all ended in my telling her to get fucked.
[of being brought to court on drug charges in England] I really couldn’t take the whole thing seriously. All those seemingly pompous fools with their white wigs. Needless to say, I was found guilty by his lordship.
despite its brevity, a satisfying, shimmering glimpse into imo one of the top 5 most compelling voices in all recorded music (and pretty standard mid-century jazz-genius-junkie archetype). for a longer look, a couple biographies are supposed to be good, but u prob cant do better than this.
Nocturnes for the King of Naples (Edmund White)
i just. really loved it.
somewhat slow-going and hard to read cuz of the mercurial, impressionistic prose, but for the same reason prob the most unique and enthralling reading experience i can remember.
the hallucinatory quality of his visionary projections & the insight of omnipresent dysfunction in all levels & generations of tech, make the difference
i love lana del rey.
i love her for all the reasons ppl r ambivalent about/h8 on her: deeply problematized/unchartable authenticity, tranny-chic appearance, lack of any sort of totality, desperate & severe ‘omega point' hauntology without being as egregiously ‘retro’ as amy winehouse or adele, so i can actually stand her music.
im also not paying that close attention, which always helps.
especially bc according to everything about it I should have loved it. NOPE. terrible.
like 3 moments i enjoyed. hot mess and not in any of the good ways. im so mad about the time i wasted finishing it that im not gonna waste anymore justifying my reaction to it. suffice to say its not any of the things its jacket blurbs claim it to be. it is not pervy, unhinged, visionary, or exhilarating. its mundane other than how exceptionally amateur it is. again not in any of the good ways.
the only thing i can attribute the various rave reviews to is that maybe it makes boring old people feel ‘young and edgy’ the same way listening to atmosphere or whatever made suburban kids feel ‘urban’
an episode of fashion police with joan rivers is more transgressive.
the pre-twitter aphoristic urge
after the schtick (vulgar-parables-of-pomo-truisms / porn-derived ontological insights / cheap ‘jarring’ juxtapositions / violent erotic fantasies about Wendy) is well established, the shock-value wears thin. a dearth of original ideas or insights weighs it down and what profundity there is is mostly precocious-highschooler-with-a-predilection-towards-drugs-and-perversity profundity. but it def has it’s moments.
Maggie Nelson, ‘Bluets’
click below for mad wordz
is ur brain ur brain? (or, ‘u have nothing to ____ except your ____’)
had myself a little home style double feature the other night, courtesy of two (out of approximately 3 million) VHS I picked up @ Pop Fuzz in Williamsburg over the weekend…