Doogie eats my dust
Harrison Ford is on Conan tonight. I’ve been watching him all weekend b/c the Indiana Jones marathon is on. Harrison Ford is sexy. You’ll have to forgive me for not knowing this earlier. I missed it all these years, I didn’t get it. He wasn’t bad on the eyes but he never made any of my lists. Maybe my priorities have changed. I have a real admiration for men who are gray and wrinkly but still killin’ it, without plastic surgery, earrings, stylish haircuts or clothes. The sexy was still emanating from him. That’s cool. It means sexy is a real thing, and it has little to do with perfection, maybe not even that connected to physical beauty. Though it helps. It has to be cultivated and then maintained, by certain character traits, that manage to avoid waining even after tumultuous, life-questioning experiences and circumstances.
For example, Paul Newman. One of the most beautiful men that have ever walked the earth. When I was little I had no knowledge of him or his Cool Hand Luke, or Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Liz Taylor, which should be banned for too much beauty on film. I don’t think I was putting two and two together about the salad dressing yet. Anyway, a movie came out called Nobody’s Fool, and he was in it. It was the 90′s so he was fairly old by this point. I remember the previews, and I was confused. I was confused because this old guy was the focal point of the movie. It just wasn’t the usual. And I was like, “who is this old guy, and why is he so important?” I noticed that he wasn’t a usual old guy, he was acting very…young. His eyes were young, and he was this spunky old guy. But not Walter Matthau old guy spunky, it was like, what I now know was Cool Hand Luke spunky. And he was handsome. And I was like, “this old guy has got some sexy in him still…he must’ve been hot when he was young.”
I just saw an iPod commercial with Coldplay in it. It’s good to see that solidified coolness hasn’t impeded their sense of commercialism.
I’ve been watching a lot of TLC. It’s no secret that I love John and Kate plus 8. It comes on late at night, and at 2am I’m hoping that once some gorgeous little half Asian thing comes on the screen and barely says “on this episode of John and Kate plus 8,” I realize that it’s one I’ve already seen. Otherwise I have to watch it. The last two episodes of What Not to Wear have featured black people. Once they get to the hair and makeup portion, you could tell they were nervous. There was a look in the eye of “are you sure you know what you’re doing?” A slight, back-of-the-mind terror that these professionals didn’t know what they were getting into, and a self-consciousness and dread for being burdensome. But suddenly I was watching this Australian hairstylist go to work on this black woman’s hair. Like flat iron, style, the works. It was extraordinary. This evolution has managed to take place in the last few years without much fuss. You can actually find a white cosmetic professional work on a black person without looking panicked or unprepared, if you really look. For many of us, that means a different world. I then watched a white woman do their makeup and explain how to find the right shades for their skin tone, since it can be harder to find (!) The end of both makeovers ended in tears. A lot of them do b/c it’s nature of makeover shows, but I’d like to think it had something to do with black people being served by white people without reservation or reluctance, yet also with care, eagerness and expertise. It was notable. It struck my heart and mind as a new experience would, a feeling I haven’t known since I was a child.
I lost one of my journals. One I started a long time ago, for the purpose of my future spouse. I’ve pretty much neglected it since some time last year, but it popped in my head again a few weeks ago, and I went to go pick it up, and found that it wasn’t in its usual spot. Nor in my 2nd or 3rd choices. I’m not really worried about some freak getting hold of it, but it’s just sad that it’s missing. I don’t misplace journals. I don’t like, take them to the movies or on a bus or to other people’s houses, so. I know it isn’t packed away. There’s still a chance that it will show up somewhere. Every once and awhile I’ll remember it’s missing and get up to go searching around for it, retracing the exact same steps each time. It wasn’t my favorite thing but it was worth keeping I thought, and coming back to. Years of unassuming theories and failed plans, different thought processes and goals and outlooks. Just vanished? I don’t know. It seems like some kind of bad omen. My computer crashed awhile back, too. Slowly but surely I’m remembering things that I would’ve really rather not lost. I’ve never made a conscious effort to back up my stuff. I usually manage to have more than one copy of things. But there are a few things that just aren’t coming back. Sad. Lesson learned, I guess. We’ll see.
I’m into these American Experience specials on particular presidents. This week it was FDR. Last week it was President Bush Sr. Both very touching, very eye opening. It definitely made me believe in the sovereignty of God, and the strange dichotomy of democracy and destiny. Maybe we’re just so predictable to God it makes our will seem unfree sometimes. I dreamed about my childhood home the other night, and for the first time in awhile it wasn’t scary.
You can’t even know how frustrated I am with myself these days. I’m so stifled. I can’t speak up. I see it all the time, everywhere suddenly. Something to do with some prayer I prayed. I now have to pray a different prayer to get rid of it. I think there’s something ocd about it. I barely know I’ve did myself in until it’s passed, and have not yet mastered, nay attempted, to go back and rectify a known error. I’m really scaring myself with my own ineptitude. I think I’ll also have to learn to be patient about certain things, and try not to rush a change not made to be rushed.
I’ll have a job soon. By soon I mean in another three weeks. Which is gonna be weird. But I’m excited. The way it happened makes me very hopeful for the future. I’m also trying to write more, and get involved with what’s going on in front of me, locally. Apparently there’s a screenwriters conference coming up but it’s like 100 bucks. If by some miracle that amount of money comes my way I’m going to fight every natural instinct I have and use that money to attend it. I won’t doubt, if it doesn’t happen I’ll just stay home.
By the way Paul Newman isn’t dead. I know the way I wrote that must’ve made it seem that way but I did that for the sake of the memory. He is now. It was a matter of time, really.
May 21, 2008
1 DecDoogie eats my dust
Harrison Ford is on Conan tonight. I’ve been watching him all weekend b/c the Indiana Jones marathon is on. Harrison Ford is sexy. You’ll have to forgive me for not knowing this earlier. I missed it all these years, I didn’t get it. He wasn’t bad on the eyes but he never made any of my lists. Maybe my priorities have changed. I have a real admiration for men who are gray and wrinkly but still killin’ it, without plastic surgery, earrings, stylish haircuts or clothes. The sexy was still emanating from him. That’s cool. It means sexy is a real thing, and it has little to do with perfection, maybe not even that connected to physical beauty. Though it helps. It has to be cultivated and then maintained, by certain character traits, that manage to avoid waining even after tumultuous, life-questioning experiences and circumstances.
For example, Paul Newman. One of the most beautiful men that have ever walked the earth. When I was little I had no knowledge of him or his Cool Hand Luke, or Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Liz Taylor, which should be banned for too much beauty on film. I don’t think I was putting two and two together about the salad dressing yet. Anyway, a movie came out called Nobody’s Fool, and he was in it. It was the 90′s so he was fairly old by this point. I remember the previews, and I was confused. I was confused because this old guy was the focal point of the movie. It just wasn’t the usual. And I was like, “who is this old guy, and why is he so important?” I noticed that he wasn’t a usual old guy, he was acting very…young. His eyes were young, and he was this spunky old guy. But not Walter Matthau old guy spunky, it was like, what I now know was Cool Hand Luke spunky. And he was handsome. And I was like, “this old guy has got some sexy in him still…he must’ve been hot when he was young.”
I just saw an iPod commercial with Coldplay in it. It’s good to see that solidified coolness hasn’t impeded their sense of commercialism.
I’ve been watching a lot of TLC. It’s no secret that I love John and Kate plus 8. It comes on late at night, and at 2am I’m hoping that once some gorgeous little half Asian thing comes on the screen and barely says “on this episode of John and Kate plus 8,” I realize that it’s one I’ve already seen. Otherwise I have to watch it. The last two episodes of What Not to Wear have featured black people. Once they get to the hair and makeup portion, you could tell they were nervous. There was a look in the eye of “are you sure you know what you’re doing?” A slight, back-of-the-mind terror that these professionals didn’t know what they were getting into, and a self-consciousness and dread for being burdensome. But suddenly I was watching this Australian hairstylist go to work on this black woman’s hair. Like flat iron, style, the works. It was extraordinary. This evolution has managed to take place in the last few years without much fuss. You can actually find a white cosmetic professional work on a black person without looking panicked or unprepared, if you really look. For many of us, that means a different world. I then watched a white woman do their makeup and explain how to find the right shades for their skin tone, since it can be harder to find (!) The end of both makeovers ended in tears. A lot of them do b/c it’s nature of makeover shows, but I’d like to think it had something to do with black people being served by white people without reservation or reluctance, yet also with care, eagerness and expertise. It was notable. It struck my heart and mind as a new experience would, a feeling I haven’t known since I was a child.
I lost one of my journals. One I started a long time ago, for the purpose of my future spouse. I’ve pretty much neglected it since some time last year, but it popped in my head again a few weeks ago, and I went to go pick it up, and found that it wasn’t in its usual spot. Nor in my 2nd or 3rd choices. I’m not really worried about some freak getting hold of it, but it’s just sad that it’s missing. I don’t misplace journals. I don’t like, take them to the movies or on a bus or to other people’s houses, so. I know it isn’t packed away. There’s still a chance that it will show up somewhere. Every once and awhile I’ll remember it’s missing and get up to go searching around for it, retracing the exact same steps each time. It wasn’t my favorite thing but it was worth keeping I thought, and coming back to. Years of unassuming theories and failed plans, different thought processes and goals and outlooks. Just vanished? I don’t know. It seems like some kind of bad omen. My computer crashed awhile back, too. Slowly but surely I’m remembering things that I would’ve really rather not lost. I’ve never made a conscious effort to back up my stuff. I usually manage to have more than one copy of things. But there are a few things that just aren’t coming back. Sad. Lesson learned, I guess. We’ll see.
I’m into these American Experience specials on particular presidents. This week it was FDR. Last week it was President Bush Sr. Both very touching, very eye opening. It definitely made me believe in the sovereignty of God, and the strange dichotomy of democracy and destiny. Maybe we’re just so predictable to God it makes our will seem unfree sometimes. I dreamed about my childhood home the other night, and for the first time in awhile it wasn’t scary.
You can’t even know how frustrated I am with myself these days. I’m so stifled. I can’t speak up. I see it all the time, everywhere suddenly. Something to do with some prayer I prayed. I now have to pray a different prayer to get rid of it. I think there’s something ocd about it. I barely know I’ve did myself in until it’s passed, and have not yet mastered, nay attempted, to go back and rectify a known error. I’m really scaring myself with my own ineptitude. I think I’ll also have to learn to be patient about certain things, and try not to rush a change not made to be rushed.
I’ll have a job soon. By soon I mean in another three weeks. Which is gonna be weird. But I’m excited. The way it happened makes me very hopeful for the future. I’m also trying to write more, and get involved with what’s going on in front of me, locally. Apparently there’s a screenwriters conference coming up but it’s like 100 bucks. If by some miracle that amount of money comes my way I’m going to fight every natural instinct I have and use that money to attend it. I won’t doubt, if it doesn’t happen I’ll just stay home.
By the way Paul Newman isn’t dead. I know the way I wrote that must’ve made it seem that way but I did that for the sake of the memory. He is now. It was a matter of time, really.