Deathblow

Did anyone hear that Melanie Thornton, the lead vocalist of the dance duo La Bouche, was killed November 24? Yes, with all this craziness surrounding some war we're fighting, the dozens dead in the latest suicide bombings in Israel, the death of George Harrison (who played in some band called the Beatles??), this important news development was grossly underreported.
I am devastated now, and don't know if I can continue on with PaperSpray.
But persevere, I shall, for I am strong in the land of the Apes.
Make no mistake, I will prevail.

Young Melanie was just 34 when her plane crashed, along with 23 other people, in Switzerland. Some people have been insisting that it was Swaziland, but I guarantee, no Swaziland plane crashes have been reported, so this must have been correct. She sang that song "Be My Lover."

Actually, another recent death, also grossly underreported. Actress Charlotte Coleman, who played Hugh Grant�s red-haired roommate in Four Weddings And A Funeral, died of an asthma attack in London November 14. To be honest, I don�t recall any other films in which Ms. Coleman was in, but I�m sure they were damn good.

I tell you what.

George Harrison dying has been an odd thing, in that it didn�t get as big of coverage as I thought it would have. Not to say that it hasn�t. Shit, there was an hour special on CNN People, so you just know there�ll be a cover story on ol� George. I dunno. I guess I sort of believed all those articles in the past few years in which his spokesperson denied he was �dying� and going through all these different tests and shit.

Or at least, I had no idea his condition was as bad as it was. After he was stabbed in his own apartment and survived, I thought he would surely live for a long time. Crazy. The Beatles made a huge impression on me, and really, I got into them with real vigor after John Lennon was killed in 1980. For a while, I had a Beatles craving. And as I got older, I had a renewed interest in many of the albums � especially the later ones like The White Album and Abbey Road. � that I didn�t necessarily get as a budding Beatle maniac.

Anyway, I feel sad that he died but I guess knowing that he had been very ill for so long made it easier to take. Not like when John Lennon was killed, which came completely out of nowhere and shocked the world. But Lennon was bigger than life, it seemed.

Harrison was much more subtle, much less outspoken and more reserved than his counterparts.
And so he wasn�t necessarily owned by the public like Lennon and McCartney were. I truly thing that when McCartney dies (and I think he�ll be the last to die�though maybe in some cruel irony, it�ll be Ringo that lives to be 100), it�ll be a much bigger deal. Christ, he is �Sir Paul,� after all.

So I went to the see the greatest film the other night: Amelie. What a joy!
This was one cute film. And I loved every minute of it. The woman who plays Amelie, Audrey Tautou, is the perfect person for this role. Filled with all sorts of whimsy and the tiniest of nuances, Amelie is one of those movies that you�ll walk out grinning from ear to ear.

At the performance we saw (Friday night at the Clay Theatre in SF), the audience clapped enthusiastically immediately following the end of the sold-out show. And when does that ever happen?
Yes, it�s in French, but no matter. So much fun. The movie just won two European Film awards for Best Picture and Best Director. Something must be right.
http://www.amelie-themovie.com/

After the movie, a small group of us meandered down Fillmore � walking around in an area I never even knew existed in SF�very yuppie-ish and just plain fucked up � and stopped at this Mediterranean restaurant. Though it was raining that night, we ate outside on the small patio covered by tarp near the warm fire and overhead heaters.

Sure, it was a bit overpriced for what you got, but damn, the most interesting thing were the hookas you could order. One could choose from three different types of fine tobacco from Saudi Arabia, ranging in price from $10 to $20, depending on your grade of tobacco you wanted.

Though we didn�t order one (expense factor), everyone else around us was smoking them�they looked like huge bongs with everybody sharing the same long tube, though it smelled very fruity and nothing like what we think of traditional cigarette tobacco.

The owner, who was taking casual puffs off one all night, brought one outside and asked us if we wanted to try it. Of course, I relented, though I had some problems because I attempted to inhale like it was a bong. Bad mistake.

Coughing action kicking in full effect. Damn.
The Middle Eastern guys next to us were having a good laugh at my expense. �Everyone has their first time,� one said to me.
True, true. Now gimme back my hooka.

Last night, we went to check out the Euphorium way the hell out in The Presidio. It was pretty interesting, based on vivid imagery described by Kubla Kahn back in the day. You walk through this sort-of maze while wearing a headset and this giant wooden thing sitting on your shoulders that contained a mirror, so essentially what you were looking at was on the ceiling and then transformed for you so it looked as though it were right in front of you, in 3-D.

It was pretty cool. Sure, the budget was fairly low-fi�a little lower than what I imagined. After all, it was $15 a person. Certainly a trip and something that made you a bit wobbly at times.

Basically, you followed this path around this big warehouse by holding on to rough cylindrical tubing while wearing your headphones and gigantor mask. You heard many things around you: voices, crying, wailing, whispers, wind, and other goodies, while confronted by those objects in various visual forms.
It only lasted about 20 minutes, but again, it was interesting and I�m glad I went.

At the moment, I�m once again practicing the art of procrastination. On the other hand, I�m finishing something and writing, right? I mean, PaperSpray has to be given its fair share, no?
Indeed, indeed.

Today was a great day in that I didn�t leave the house once. I�m not sure I even opened the door, though maybe I did early on. Ah, but it�s so nice to just relax and enjoy hanging out. I also interviewed Adult today for an upcoming show, so it wasn�t like it was a total waste of time.
However, I still have much to do and now it�s 9:05 p.m.

Nevertheless, dammit, seems like I work better at night anyway, ya know Charlie?
Funny, I was just thinking about the fact that it hadn�t been raining in a while today (it�s been raining virtually nonstop all weekend�actually for most of the last week) and it just started raining again.
Nifty nifty.

We�re going to see 2001: A Space Odyssey on 70mm widescreen this Tuesday. I�m excited. Whoo hoo. It�s playing at the Castro Theatre, which is gigantic. That�s where we caught the DJ Qbert short film a few weeks back.

On Wednesday, we got Bonobo and Four Tet kicking it at Amoeba at 6 p.m. before their show later that evening with DJ Food at Justice League. I think I may have to sacrifice and attend said show. On the other damn hand, it�s fucking $15 to get in.

I just heard that SF Gate cut loose all their entertainment coverage and so that means that me writer compadre M and my pal Ron from xlr8r aren�t going to be able to do so much freelancing. Damn, yo. The strings just keep getting tighter. What the fuck am I going to do?
Jesus. So crazy how much as changed so quickly. Appalling, really. There�s less and less work for writers all the time.
Damn is right.
Somehow I�m going to have to keep going, but it�s difficult too.

Speaking of, if I�m going to do something with whatever it is I�m doing right now, then I�m going to have to dig deep and finish this shit. Am I Right? I�m right.

Keep on keeping on. Sometimes being sedentary makes it more difficult to be clever. Ah, what can I say? It�s all about a mood thing, ya know?
How else to explain?

Did I tell you that I�ve figured out that I�m an idealist? Big surprise, isn�t it? Yep, that�s me. Hoping for the best. Or at least, I�d like to think I think like that. Who the fuck knows anymore?

Mickey Mouse is in heaven now.

Love Yourself,
Chuck Brown