existence is elsewhere

“i have always been amazed at the way an ordinary observer lends so much more credence and attaches so much more importance to waking events than to those occurring in dreams. it is because man, when he ceases to sleep, is above all the plaything of his memory, and in its normal state memory takes pleasure in weakly retracing for him the circumstances of the dream, in stripping it of any real importance, and in dismissing the only determinant from the point where he thinks he has left it a few hours before: this firm hope, this concern. he is under the impression of continuing something that is worthwhile. thus the dream finds itself reduced to a mere parenthesis, as is the night."

- breton, manifesto of surrealism, 1924.

autumn in the mountains

my roommate has an old world war ii yugoslav combat rifle, with all original parts, and we took it shooting yesterday in the rocky mountains. the ammunition is some obscure caliber minted in the fifties, but i guess you can still find some around.

best of news

october eleventh in the uk
october twelfth in the us

there should be more westerns

the "man with no name" trilogy may be, in fact, a collection of three of the greatest movies of all time. they're spaghetti westerns from the '60s, starring clint eastwood and directed by sergio leone, and they couldn't be more great. my favorite, of course, is "the good, the bad, and the ugly," but the other two, "fistful of dollars" and "for a few dollars more" are brilliant as well.



i got all three films for about $12 total, and have been hooked ever since. i've always been a big fan of westerns, like john wayne's "the searchers" and "rio bravo" and some of eastwood's other works like "high plains drifter" and "the pale rider".



what makes "the good, the bad, and the ugly" so great, in my opinion, is that all the elements in the film work well, and work well together. the cinematography of the gun battles is epic, the writing is witty as hell, and the music is borderline orgasmic. ennio morricone did the soundtrack, and i think it's one of the greatest in film. the score mixes gunfire and whistling in with booming percussion and strings and soaring vocals.

this score of this scene, "the ecstasy of gold", near the end of the film, is a great case-in-point.



blondie (the good), angel eyes (the bad), and tuco (the ugly) are three great characters, though i think my favorite might be tuco, played by eli wallach.



he has an incredibly expressive face, unlike eastwood, who has about two facial expressions in the entire film, and i love the way tuco crosses himself. one of my favorite scenes of his is when he is in the bath-tub in a destroyed building, leisurely washing himself, when a man he'd shot eight months prior confronts him. "i've been waiting for this moment for eight months, tuco," the man says, "and now i've got you just where i want you." as the man draws his pistol to shot tuco, a shot rings out from inside the bath-tub, killing the man. a naked and wet tuco, getting out of the bath-tub with a pistol tied around his neck by a little string, says, "when you have to shoot, shoot, don't talk." wise words indeed.







and, as far as epic climaxes go, it's hard to beat the finale.

modern literature is not the sort of thing one discusses in private

been busy as a bee lately, but things are going swimmingly none-the-less. since we last spoke, dear readers, i have lost money on horse-racing, moved to colorado, moved into a new space with new roommates in a new neighborhood, started my last year of university (can you believe it?), and participated in a few unmentionables, as is my nature, of course.

my new place is a charming little green house in the downtown neighborhood of boulder. i'm assuming it's a post-war building, so it's probably fifty or sixty years old, and beginning to show its age. the house has a veranda with a swinging porch chair that can fit two (swoon!), and sits on a fetching little tree-lined avenue with everyone's cars parked out on the street. i like to sit out on the porch watching people parallel park, though i pretend i'm reading so as not to appear rude.

i'll make a more detailed post on the aforementioned soon, but, in the mean-time, i've picked up some good books lately. boulder has more used book-stores than any city around, so the pickings are normally pretty good. red letter books, on pearl at 18th, is a neat place, as is trident café, on pearl at 10th, and beat book shop , on pearl at 17th, which has some sort of connection to allen ginsberg when he lived here. ginsberg helped start up the jack kerouac school of disembodied poetics at naropa univerity, which is the only accredited buddhist university in america, and whose campus is on my street. left hand books, on pearl and broadway, is good if you're into radical political literature, chiefly of the socialist and anarchist ideologies.

most of what i picked up is from the fifties and sixties, though one book, on liberty by mill, was from 1947, which was really a neat find. the newest book from the lot, about sixteen or seventeen from the last few weeks, is only about fourteen years old, but it's dante's inferno, and that's a good book for two dollars, especially because it's hardcover and still has the dustjacket.



mostly non-fiction this time around, and i think, subconsciously, at least, the fact that i have three philosophy courses this semester may have influenced my selection. there's three books on plato, two on kant, three on aristotle, four on freud, and a number of others. freud is less philosophy than psychology, i suppose, but since they're all tomes actually written by the viennese doctor, they're probably my favorites.



sigmund looks exceptionally ridiculous on the cover of civilization and its discontents, and from the photo i can easily imagine him on some halloween television special, telling scary stories for children.



if i could get a hold of an old copy of the interpretation of dreams, that would be tops. i will be on the look-out next time, no doubt.





a few of the books are old study guides from the fifties, called "monarch notes." i have two copies, on kant and aristotle, which, according to the cover description, are "designed to stimulate the reader's interest, deepen his enjoyment, and encourage the desire to enrich his learning."





another neat book is one called message from la mancha, which was published by april editions in 1973. it contains a bunch of quotes from don quixote, plus some charming images.



all those who are contented
with this life pass
like a shadow and a dream, or
whither like the
flower in the field.



so, not bad, all in all, and i've also bought up some really interesting political pamphlets from a small communist group that came onto campus last week. they were on a subscription drive for their party newspaper, workers vanguard, and though i didn't have enough money to subscribe i did buy some literature on trotsky and some other things. i have a thing for radical political literature, and my collection is getting pretty good. it fluctuates though, from time to time, because whenever i hear someone mention an issue or what-not, i tend to give them anything i have on it. a misguided expression of solidarity, perhaps, but what can you do.



i probably won't dig into these books for awhile (if ever, let's be serious), because my school reading-list is pretty hefty as it is. i'm also going through marx's das kapital for the second time, as well, accompanied this instance with david harvey's excellent companion. that's all for now, loves, talk soon.

new old things

minnesota thrift stores have been just okay lately (almost no sweaters or cardigans), though i’ve found some good stuff in the last few days, like a nice fred perry red and black plaid button-down shirt and some really neat brown wing-tips, plus some other shirts and a robe.



vintage fred perry shirt - thrifted from savers
bdg corduroys - urban outfitters
brown wing-tips - thrifted from savers



autumn is easily my favorite season, as much for the clothing i can finally wear as the weather. whenever there’s a dip in the temperature in august i tend to get really excited, and put on sweaters and blazers, only to be sweating profusely about half an hour later. it’s a real issue.

also, i just got a great new camera, a 35mm canon a-1 from the seventies with three different types of lenses, including a telephoto. i had to drive all over town looking for a place that stocked the right battery, but it now has film as well and is ready to go. it also has a really cool detachable flash, but i don’t know if it works, so it may just be a day-time camera. but that’s okay, i’m flexible.



packing my bags for colorado today, after about two weeks in minnesota. it will be good to be back home, though i’m moving into a new apartment with new roommates, so that will be interesting. but i have faith.

twenty-four hours in the red light district

on my way from london back to america, i made a brief, twenty-four hour trip to amsterdam, holland, and, more specifically, to its red light district. i strolled its streets, took some photos, and was even propositioned by a prostitute. the district's ladies-of-the-night rent out glass booths right on the street, and when you first enter the neighborhood, and spot one out of the corner of your eye, they look like scantily clad mannequins - until they start to move. and then you're like, "oh shit, that is a real-life person, a-waiting for the sex." it's very disconcerting.



i don't think i'd ever consider paying for that particular service, even if i was suffering a particularly long dry streak (mainly because i'm terrified of my penis getting a disease), but i almost considered going into the brothel, paying the madam, and just spending my time talking to the girl about life and love. i bet she'd have some crazy stories, and would have a lot of worldly wisdom to hand down. i didn't have enough money, though, so i kept walking.



the red light district has a lot more to offer your average tourist than emotionless sex, however, like legalized marijuana and the possibility of falling into a dirty canal. you'd think avoiding a relatively large body of water would be easy, but when your head's in the haze and you're busy taking photos, an accidental dip is a real possibility. thankfully i avoided that potential embarrassment, though just barely - the american equivalent, i believe, being running into a parked car.



i haven't been the best blogger as of late, and i will try to amend that with some posts soon. no promises though, because i am moving back to boulder on friday, and that whole process, naturally, will take up some time. but since i've been back stateside i've taken a roadtrip from minnesota to oklahoma (ten hours!), gone to the horse-races (and am going again tomorrow!), got a new camera (a 1978 canon a-1!), and went thrifting (clothes! and shoes!). all aforementioned events will constitute their own posts, in due time, just as soon as i finish uploading and editing the photos. 'til then, children.