Monday, August 21, 2017

Saturday, August 19, 2017



DIY NYC underground screenings/readings.


bye(any means necessary).
works-in-progress 2017.


Thursday, August 17, 2017

Bill Bunting speaks.



bye (buy   +read) The Fountainhead...






















'It's not a bird or a plane it's a Superman'
NYC 2017

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Existential Indie Cinema wears bedsheets after car accidents.


https://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/sartre/works/exist/sartre.htm


https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2017-08-15/netflix-co-founder-s-crazy-plan-pay-10-a-month-go-to-the-movies-all-you-want

Monday, August 14, 2017


  Self-imposed retreat, cabin in da(sic) woods.
re·treat

rəˈtrēt/
verb
  1. 1
    withdraw from forces as a result of their imaginary superior power or after a misleading defeat.

    "the French retreated in Jane Public disarray"
    synonyms:withdrawretire, draw back, pull back/out, fall back, give way, give ground, beat a retreat, beat a hasty retreat
    "the army retreated"
noun
  1. 1
    an act of moving back or withdrawing.

    "a speedy retreat"
    synonyms:withdrawal, pulling back
    "the retreat of the anything"



r.i.p.






R.I.P. actor, Joe Bologna
You were great.

Sunday, August 13, 2017
























Daddy Long Legs, Westchester 2017.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Monday, August 7, 2017

"Not I"



The people of the world don't want nuclear war but it looks inevitable. Pray that if war breaks out between N Korea and the United States let it be quickly resolved without any nuclear exchange. Pray that China does not go to war against us along with N Korea as well because history proves that China will ally themselves with the rouge little country. And if that happens, the world will truly need divine intervention. Bye.




     "I can't drive 55," East NY 2017.


Sunday, August 6, 2017

Admirable DIY activist on a bike.

                                      
                                      



Saturday, August 5, 2017


Meeting with actress Jennifer Jason Leigh was 'nuts' (no pun intended- Jenn is nothing like her character roles).
        



Bye.(burp)

#singlewhitefemale #fasttimesatridgemonthigh #thehatefuleight
#Georgia #Miamiblues #goodtimes #oscars #rush #theBromleyproject

p.s.
bye again. burp again.

https://www.theguardian.com/film/2016/jan/02/jennifer-jason-leigh-this-precipice-many-times-hateful-eight


Nolan's 'DUNKIRK' is truly an epic. I'm shocked and kinda blown away. I didn't expect much more from Nolan, but it seems these IMAX cameras have become his muse. The film is true war epic craftsmanship and beats 'Saving Private Ryan' which was not any easy task. This film is why the theatrical experience should remain and will remain. Bye.


Friday, August 4, 2017

 

 


                     

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Woolf.


 

The Waves

(excerpt)
 
The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually.
 
As they neared the shore each bar rose, heaped itself, broke and swept a thin veil of white water across the sand. The wave paused, and then drew out again, sighing like a sleeper whose breath comes and goes unconsciously. Gradually the dark bar on the horizon became clear as if the sediment in an old wine-bottle had sunk and left the glass green. Behind it, too, the sky cleared as if the white sediment there had sunk, or as if the arm of a woman couched beneath the horizon had raised a lamp and flat bars of white, green and yellow spread across the sky like the blades of a fan. Then she raised her lamp higher and the air seemed to become fibrous and to tear away from the green surface flickering and flaming in red and yellow fibres like the smoky fire that roars from a bonfire.

Gradually the fibres of the burning bonfire were fused into one haze, one incandescence which lifted the weight of the woollen grey sky on top of it and turned it to a million atoms of soft blue. The surface of the sea slowly became transparent and lay rippling and sparkling until the dark stripes were almost rubbed out. Slowly the arm that held the lamp raised it higher and then higher until a broad flame became visible; an arc of fire burnt on the rim of the horizon, and all round it the sea blazed gold.
 
The light struck upon the trees in the garden, making one leaf transparent and then another. One bird chirped high up; there was a pause; another chirped lower down. The sun sharpened the walls of the house, and rested like the tip of a fan upon a white blind and made a blue finger-print of shadow under the leaf by the bedroom window. The blind stirred slightly, but all within was dim and unsubstantial. The birds sang their blank melody outside.
 
‘I see a ring,’ said Bernard, ‘hanging above me. It quivers and hangs in a loop of light.’

‘I see a slab of pale yellow,’ said Susan, ‘spreading away until it meets a purple stripe.’

‘I hear a sound,’ said Rhoda, ‘cheep, chirp; cheep chirp; going up and down.’

‘I see a globe,’ said Neville, ‘hanging down in a drop against the enormous flanks of some hill.’

‘I see a crimson tassel,’ said Jinny, ‘twisted with gold threads.’

‘I hear something stamping,’ said Louis. ‘A great beast’s foot is chained. It stamps, and stamps, and stamps.’

‘Look at the spider’s web on the corner of the balcony,’ said Bernard. ‘It has beads of water on it, drops of white light.’

‘The leaves are gathered round the window like pointed ears,’ said Susan.

‘A shadow falls on the path,’ said Louis, ‘like an elbow bent.’

‘Islands of light are swimming on the grass,’ said Rhoda. ‘They have fallen through the trees.’

‘The birds’ eyes are bright in the tunnels between the leaves,’ said Neville.

‘The stalks are covered with harsh, short hairs,’ said Jinny, ‘and drops of water have stuck to them.’
‘A caterpillar is curled in a green ring,’ said Susan, ‘notched with blunt feet.’

‘The grey-shelled snail draws across the path and flattens the blades behind him,’ said Rhoda.

‘And burning lights from the window-panes flash in and out on the grasses,’ said Louis.

‘Stones are cold to my feet,’ said Neville. ‘I feel each one, round or pointed, separately.’

‘The back of my hand burns,’ said Jinny, ‘but the palm is clammy and damp with dew.’

‘Now the cock crows like a spurt of hard, red water in the white tide,’ said Bernard.

‘Birds are singing up and down and in and out all round us,’ said Susan.

‘The beast stamps; the elephant with its foot chained; the great brute on the beach stamps,’ said Louis.

‘Look at the house,’ said Jinny, ‘with all its windows white with blinds.’

‘Cold water begins to run from the scullery tap,’ said Rhoda, ‘over the mackerel in the bowl.’

‘The walls are cracked with gold cracks,’ said Bernard, ‘and there are blue, finger-shaped shadows of leaves beneath the windows.’



'Bye,' said Jane.