Film Review No. 2

The Mother of Invention
Directed by and starring Andrew Bowser
Written and directed by Joseph M. Petrick

One of my oldest and closest friends, Laurie Mae, recently sent me a bunch of links to the trailers of this film, The Mother of Invention, that she did the sound tech for. She knew Id love the solo videos of the films star, Andrew Bowser, and after cry-laughing to his Thank You Famous People video for about an hour, I watched the available trailers to the movie. I was immediately curious and, because of the mutual connection, I e-friended Andrew Bowser and we began a correspondence. Ultimately, he sent Addie and I an advanced copy of the film in hopes that not only would we give feedback but that Addie might paint the promotional poster.

The DVD came in the mail last Friday and the next day, Addie, Katelyn, Brittany and I sat down to watch. Before even the ten minute mark, we knew we loved this movie. The four of us didnt stop laughing the entire time. Where many comedies waste their most quote-worthy moments in the trailers, The Mother of Intention is consistently funny, far beyond what we had already seen. While we were excited to see the clips we were already familiar with, there were countless hilarious moments in between. But this movie has something else, as well. Its simultaneously Napolean Dynamite ironically awkward, Tim & Eric shockingly creepy, and Juno indie hit. Bowser and Petrick are hoping to see it into Sundance and I have the greatest faith that The Mother of Invention could become something enormous out of something relatively small. There is a unique freshness to the way so many different elements of style and genre have come together to create this majestic work. The ultimate message is poignant and beautifully done and though there are one or two scenes made a little too tender with the use of music, it doesnt assume its audience cant figure anything out on its own. Thus, when the movie ended - no matter how much we wished it to go on forever - there was so much to talk about.

The Mother of Invention is a mockumentary about Vincent Dooly, played by Andrew Bowser, an aspiring inventor, and the many semi-absurd but oddly realistic people in his life. Bowser is unreal in this role - unreal in an utterly indescribably perfect way - mostly because we all know this character: Dooly is the kid in every school who just doesnt know his boundaries after having been outcast for so long. He is endearing but scary in moments because his world is not that of the normal human being. Rather than sadly outcast, his type goes a little nuts in his own world. Dooly works alongside an even more awkward friend, Gunter - "One time Vincent asked me to help him, so I helped him. Another time, Vincent asked me to help him, so I helped him..." - and together they create the most unlikely, yet usefully unsuccessful inventions.

Dooly's greatest rival, Martin Wooderson, is played by Jimmi Simpson who is recognizable from Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and despite his great success as an inventor, Dooly and the audience seem to be the only ones capable of seeing the folly in making every single household appliance voice activated. In this revelation, the viewer is able to connect to the seemingly ununderstandable Vincent Dooly. Vincent's mentor, Junky Joe (whose real name is Anton Pupkin despite Dooly's nickname) is played by the always incredible Kevin Corrigan, famous for his role as Uncle Eddie in Grounded for Life and, most recently, one of the henchmen in Pineapple Express. The greatest success of this movie is the different inter-character relationships and the Vincent-Anton connection was by far my favorite. Their exchanges were believable and dead on, a semi-maniacal 20something and his eternally consistent voice of reason. The greatness of the casting, however, doesnt stop there. Mark Boone Junior, as Vincent's father, as well as Dee Wallace, as Vincent's mother, are perfectly deadpan, almost tear-inducing. But where I was really able to connect with this film, on a personal level, was through Ruby Wendell's Jenny Balsam, the diner waitress of Dooly's affection. Despite his several outbursts in her name, Jenny still recognizes the harmlessness behind Dooly's instability. In elementary school, I remember being seated next to Lee Clendenin, very much the Vincent Dooly outcast character of real life. Lee ate glue, threw worms at girls, wore solely ankle-tight sweatpants, and said endlessly creepy things but no matter how I knew that everyone else hated this kid, I found him somewhat amusing. I was the only girl invited to his Discovery Zone Birthday Party and I went. I dont know what ever happened to him but I never held the bizarre things he did against him. What the Lee Clendenins and Vincent Doolys of the world go to prove is that when the rest of the world has already decided that they hate you there's nowhere else to go but crazy.

Where I gave away bits and pieces of my previously reviewed films, I wouldnt dare expose any of The Mother of Invention because I 100% want everyone to go see it and the twists and turns of this film are just so perfect that to give them away would be a crime. What I will say, however, is that Im really excited about where this could go because, not in a long time, have I watched something and not wanted to change a single thing. It couldnt end any other way and even with a second viewing, the few moments I questioned the first time around seemed exactly right and I only fell even more in love with every character. Youre not meant to love Vincent, simply appreciate the way that even the oddest of us affect everyone around in a profound and simple manner. A must see.

Thanksgetting

This was already weeks ago and this morning feels even further away. I have more and more to think about it and its best that I say as little as possible. Last night, and it feels like last year, some drunk kid tore off his shirt to arm wrestle him over the bar and lost miserably. Then, slurring all his words, he asked how long Id been "hanging out with Steve" to which I replied "I dont know but it took him two years" and thats all I could think to say because I like that fact and I can feel good inside of it and its all any random person needs to know about us: it took him two years but whatever he was doing, it seems to have worked. I had more fun in Baltimore, serving dollar beers to crust punks and stereotypes and shamelessly kissing my co-bartender, than I have had in New York City in a long time. I liked insisting that he go watch his friends band, that I would cover the bar without him so he could hang out and I dont even mind that I had to chase him downstairs before he passed out forever. Some kid threw up inside of his hoodie to avoid projectile vomiting all over one of the roommates girlfriends, there was a guy with a comedically demonic voice who was apparently married with a child and, yet, at a house show on a Friday night, and there was a lifting of pressure and then it was gone altogether and I didnt have to think too much and god knows, thats the most relieving thing of all.

I had two Thanksgiving dinners but the second was better because even though I liked the stuffing at the first, my cousin's husband's brother almost choked to death before his father gave him the Heimlich and was the night's hero. I spent about two hours with the same cousin's new baby Payton Ryan napping on my chest and that was possibly the most relaxing thing ever. While Aidan, her two year old, is hilarious and adorable, Payton is quiet and I think we bonded while he used my boobs for pillows. I watched the entire season of True Blood, Steven took me to the inner harbor, the aquarium, and Hooters on Friday before the party and I got to see Julie twice. It was almost an entirely successful trip to Baltimore. But Im back now, specifically to go to work tomorrow, after a solid six hours of (attempted) travel in which my bus never showed up, I waited over and hour with a few other people and then hauled myself over to the Grayhound station to take a more reliable means of transportation. Somehow we got to NYC in three hours and I slept most of the way. Wish me luck waking up.

How I Became Paranoid

I dont know what is happening to me but its something about suddenly having purpose and longing and, ultimately, a direction. One minute Im infinitely happy and the next I am unspeakably miserable. Not depressed miserable, though, aggrevated negative irritated angry miserable. Someone that I consider a friend said something like, "You hate everyone but you try to have fun," but I think mostly I hate everyone and so I drink so that I kind of hate myself a little bit or at least enough to have fun until I become more aware of myself, and then someone I would never want to be friends with said something like, "Smiiile! Yurlooking soounhappie!" and then I hate everyone again and then I flee. The truth is, Im always trying to have a good time and, usually, I do but, some nights, and days even, I just cant bear my options. I have a sneaking notion that the problem isnt anything other than myself and my standards and that, if I were to change those, Id have a great time in these situations, but I also know, for a fact, that Im never going to change my standards, nor do I really want to. Screaming and shoving people out of the way for attention just doesnt work for me and there are only so many utterly predictable conversations I can have with strangers that make me feel one hundred years old. I try it for a bit and then I become infuriated and wholly unpleasant to be around and, honestly, its not fair to Sam to whom I usually overly vocalize my misery. Im trying so hard to get it but I just dont. Regardless, Ive been going out quite a lot but despite the way Ive been taking advantage of New York City these past few weeks, I am unusually excited to go back to Baltimore this weekend and see this certain person. He will be meeting my parents and I will be meeting all of his friends. Its been three years but finally someone seems to distract me as much as I distract them.
(Note: That picture is several weeks old. I am not crying, I am hiding.)

+ Thursday - Oak store meeting, accidentally got wasted, Brooklyn with the co-workers, couldnt play pool, ate free popcorn and pizza, smoked at a weird apartment, walked home with my eyes closed, didnt hate everything
+ Friday - worked all day, dinner with Katelyn and Jonny, Brittany came over, Trash Bar with Katelyn, Brittany and Jonny, met up with SB, Sarina, Catherine, Josh and Alex, hated everything, got drunk in 90 seconds, didnt sing karaoke, fed an old friend tater tots, sleepover with Katelyn, didnt hate everything
+ Saturday - stayed home all day with Katelyn, Addie, and Brittany, didnt hate everything, smoked much weed, watched The Mother of Invention (incredible), napped, skimmed Passion of the Christ (awesomely gory, horrible otherwise), went to a house party, tried to dance, went home, hated everything

The Black Egg of Death

I was just about to make myself from scrambled eggs. I had cracked open the first egg but the second, when I dumped its contents into the pan, had a solid black yolk and literally smelled like I had dumped hundreds of rotting corpses onto my stove. Needless to say, I shrieked and maybe cursed a bit, but evidence was necessary but in getting these photos, I almost vomited, gagging all the way to flushing the contents of what was supposed to be my lunch.

The most horrible experience possible and not only that, but its a bad omen and now Im afraid to leave my apartment, for fear something fatal might happen to me in the aftermath of this black egg. I have been Googling this occurrence and a similar situation happened in the making of pancakes, sort of equally shaking someone else. The comments section of that tale may have just furthered my trauma. I contemplated trying to scramble the remaining two eggs of the batch but I cant even imagine putting anything egg-like in or around my mouth. My father refuses to eat eggs because of the smell and I worry I have just been turned off forever as well, despite having loved eggs until this very day. Next week when Im home Im going to have to ask about him about whether or not he had a similar experience. I, for one, dont know Ill ever be the same.

Less Empty, No Time

+ I work now.
+ I am eating healthier.
+ I am very busy but not exhausted.
+ I feel incredibly productive, even when drunk.
- I have disappearing and then reappearing pink eye.
+ Someone likes me and tells me so even when Im being bitchy on purpose and wont just admit it in return - just to test him, because Im like that - but a lot of the time I do say it back and I like it.
+ Tonight I wrote ten pages in two and a half hours on Kenneth Anger's utilization of scopophilia (pleasure in looking), voyeurism (pleasure in what is seen), and their opposites in The Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome and how the editing, costuming (focusing on the use of male drag), and performances of the piece make it a "Futurist Marvelous" work of cinema in accordance to the theories of Laura Mulvey, Judith Butler, and Filippo Tommaso Marinetti.

Im so tired of people misunderstanding, misrepresenting, and misinterpreting the pentagram. The pentagram is only an evil, pagan symbol if it is being used as such. Though I have little problem with the Wiccan use, it has, unfortunately, caused the sign to lose much of its original, deeply inter-religious meaning in modern times. The pentagram was once, however, an important sign for most religions and thus, most people. The earliest pentagrams were rough diagrams scratched into stone age caves, believed to have some spiritual significance. In the civilizations that followed, pentagrams marked directions in Sumerian texts and represented the five visible planets. Later, it was the sign of both the planet and the goddess Venus. According to Pythagoras, the five points of the pentagram each represent one of the five elements that make up man: fire, water, air, earth, and psyche; the Pythagoreans held the pentacle sacred to Hygeia, the Goddess of healing. Eventually this interpretation lead the pentagram to represent a rose, a symbol of femininity. Early Christians wore it as an emblem and later, the pentacle was important to many doctrines of esoteric Medieval and Renaissance belief systems: alchemy, Kabbalah, and ceremonial magic. Learn more.

Theres a good chance that some of these statements have jynxed me. Cross your fingers. Knock on wood.

Brownie Hangover

Last night was the gallery opening for Alessandra Exposito, the woman that Addie interned for earlier this year. Her collection, entitled My First Love at Mixed Greens in Chelsea. After watching her make countless paper clay flowers months ago, it was really awesome to finally see the outcome of all the hard work I heard about. In all honesty, Ive never seen such a successful opening. There was a huge crowd coming in and out and rather than gather mid-gallery, the patrons were looking at and discussing the work in admiration. Not since my mothers own meticulous calligraphy have I seen such perfect hand-done script. All the names on the skulls were painted freehand by Exposito and I know how incredibly hard that is to achieve without messing up. Plus, I mean, I love animal bones and the like, especially horses and skulls, so of course I loved the work but it really seemed like everyone else did as well. Exposito works largely with the cranium bone, even the tiny ones of chickens, and the common thread throughout her work is both adorable and intriguing and Im kind of excited to see what else she does over time.

Exposito also invited us to the afterparty at her friends loft, conveniently named "Steed" in the horse theme that even the beer, Rolling Rock, coincided with. The apartment itself was the best decorated place Ive ever seen, magnificent art all over the walls, and a whole hidden hallway working as a library, floor to ceiling books. It was heaven. We were the first to arrive but moments later, dozens more people showed up, including the mothers doppelganger, and the two gentlemen who owned the apartment were very welcoming, offering up beer, wine, cheese and crackers, bread and butter, salad, two kinds of lasagna, and treats. Eventually, we ran into some...special brownies. Im an overzealous crazy person so, I literally gobbled down one and a half in a matter of seconds. "Theyre strong" I had been warned but I might be something of a stoner and I didnt believe it. I told the host that we were best friends about a dozen times and might have blown some kisses when I was offered delicious greenery, beautifully displayed in special containers made of wood and metal. Well, by the time it came to leave for home Id also smoked two bowls and couldnt stop twirling my umbrella around in the rain. We walked to the wrong subway and finally caught a cab. Id tried to make about ten million other plans but ultimately went home to spend some time with the recently more allusive with Alex (not Exposito). We watched Always Sunny and the 1988 classic, Big with Tom Hanks and the woman who plays Celia on Weeds! There was also some talking, but I was full-on brownie-ing by that time and couldnt quite figure out what to do with my body, ultimately shoving myself deep into the corner of the couch, as usual. The greens that I, myself, have possession of right now seemed, at first, to be the worst possible supply I could ever have come into: lazy, sleepy, starving, quiet, and stupid. Then it occurred to me to use it to help me sleep, considering how much trouble, lately, I have doing that without Benadryl or some other aid. Needless to say, my slumber the past two nights have been comparable to death, but now, this morning, Im still enjoying the affects of those brownies, and I even have a few left over, tinfoiled, for later.

My Bird/Best Friend

Last Thursday Josh and I were killing time post-lunch in Cooper Square on a day when there were mysteriously no homeless people but many many pigeons fighting over a vast sprinkling of bread crumbs. This bird was by far the largest of the group, its wings stuck at rest at his sides rather than crossed over his back, virtually neckless and missing out on the feast. I shared my Rice Krispy Treat with him, even nudging a few more physically capable pigeons away from him so that none could steal his snack, and he stood next to me for awhile. Actually he sat because he had a bum leg, visually crippled, and I fed him and took these pictures. I really liked that pigeon.

It took almost three years but Julie, my best friend from high school, finally came to visit both myself and New York City, arriving on Thursday night. So began the busiest weekend of my life. Since she and my mom are close and my father went to Vegas for a friends Birthday, my mother also came up for Friday and Saturday, which may or may not have been a good or bad decision. Friday night Julie and I went to Joshs place with Sam and then Library with Janie. Friday we woke up incredibly early to spend six hours walking nonstop about the city and shopping with my mother, success at Pixie Market and Opening Ceremony. Mom briefly lost of her phone, freaked out, kept freaking out, Julie and I located it, she stopped freaking out and then acted embarassed and said "Dont tell your father." The three of us met up with Addie, Alex, and Sam to go to Nobu for dinner. Three bottles of wine and my mom was drunk then back to Dhanis where I made a sign that read "I Wanna Barack and Roll All Night, and Party Every Day" while my mom tried not to fall asleep, then to Ruff Club so my mom and Julie could get an official nightlife photo, dance, and meet some of my other friends. My mother managed to make friends with the bouncer and the door guy in a matter of adorable drunken seconds. We all sang "Aint No Mountain High Enough" at the top of our lungs before mom went home, Julie and I went back to the party at Dhanis. Mason, Jason, Honor, Cassidy and a boy whose name might be Volcan were entertaining. Jason gave Addie and I kisses on the cheeks and apparently got out of hand after Julie and I left. Came home around 3:30 with Smart Puffs and forced my mom to wake up and watch South Park. Woke up early again and spent about six hours at the MoMA, had an in depth conversation about Van Gogh with my mother who agreed that the way he paints people takes away from his work which is why Starry Nights is a favorite - no people - watched the entirety of Nan Goldin's photo slideshow despite the moans of my mother and Julie, my mother and I annoyed Julie with our constant banter and then explained that thats just how we get along, rather than bottling shit up and having enormous fights we have three lines arguments almost constantly throughout the day, stopped bugging Julie a little bit over MoMA Cafe food. It had stopped raining, cabbed home through Times Square. Julie and I rested, my mother wandered around my neighborhood after asking "Is it safe?" and then she caught her train. Julie and I had dinner at Sams with Addie and Alex Fitzgerald, the other Alex arrived at Sams, we went to Brittany and Kristens and became very drunk on a roof, went to Brooklyn, Julie acted responsible and I got drunk and semi-angry, said "Fuck you!" a lot and maybe pouted for a few minutes. Sam and I had a heart to heart on the stairwell and apparently missed some Seinfeld impersonations back at the party. 4am Veselka without Fitzgerald and Addie because he wanted McDonalds and she went home with Zack. Crawled home. Slept til 1. Julie and I went to a flea market - she got records, I got chairs, finally - then we got our nails done and then got stoned and watched Madagascar 2 and Forgetting Sarah Marshall, both good but the former was better, ate lots of food, went to Crooked Tree for dinner with Sam, came back home, smoked more, ate way more despite having just eaten crepes, did girlie slumber party stuff like playing with each others hair, watched I Love Lucy and passed out. Woke up early again yesterday morning to sleepmake us eggs before Julie's train and then said goodbye until Thanksgiving. All in all, a great success of a weekend, but now I am behind on certain things, ahead on others, and not exactly right where I want to be.

Yes, We Did

Id be lying if I claimed to be patriotic. I am thankful to have been born in a nation so founded upon freedom but when the majority of my maturing years have been under the rule of a man determined to rip those foundations from beneath the feet of my generation, its hard to be optimistic about a land built upon slowly fading promises. For awhile now Ive even been planning my escape. Ive also greatly kept my mouth shut when it came to this election because someone else was always saying it better, but I finally have a point to make. When Bush won the past two elections, securing his place as the leader of this country for eight distressing years, my only reaction was disappointment in the confirmation that, as I had suspected, over half of this country is made up of backwards thinking, closed minded morons that deserved such a poorly suited, utterly moronic, painfully vapid, stunningly useless man as their President. As I have mentioned before, my hatred for Bush is countered by a great pitiful love of those that make the rest of us look like rocket scientists. Idiots may be fun to watch to a certain degree, squirming uncomfortably in positions of power, but they are not suited for the White House. Though I was disappointed, I was never shocked, because I did believe that that was the truth, that over fifty percent of this nation would have been undeserving and unappreciative of a greater man, or even woman, after having had Clinton turn everything U.S.A. into gold and then having the audacity to then persecute him for something unrelated to his political power. (Dont you dare get me wrong, being an unfaithful husband is a pitiful and disgusting fate for any marriage, but lacking the power to control his cock had nothing to do with his ability to control the country.) I do, however, also believe that there is a reason for most things that happen in this world. Without Bush to destroy everything we Americans were able to say we were proud of, we would never have been able to look past Clintons marital infidelities and eventually pray for another leader like him to take over in January 2009, and without Bush we would not be able to truly appreciate the amazing chance our nation is being given in the dawning of the next four years with Barack Obama. Bush began his eight year reign of terror with manipulations, deceit, and lies. Barack is doing the exact opposite. He has won by a landslide, McCain wasnt even close, Barack killed it. Not only that but he truly stands for a kind of change that is palpable. It is in his voice, it is in his words, it is even in the fact that he is an ethnically diverse man with an untraditional background, a black man raised by a single white mother, representing a new norm, a new reality, one that rings truer to a new majority. Make no mistake, America is not going to right itself simply because Obama is not George Bush or John McCain, and these next four years are going to be long and hard for Barack Obama. Perhaps we are all still undeserving but be damn sure that this is proof that more than one of us has learned from our mistakes and that we will at least do better to appreciate the vast and innumerable possibilities for the future of the United States of America.

The Virgin Strikes Back

I woke up sometime last week to these sixty-odd instant messages, sent between 8:30am and 10:30am from a screen name I had never seen or heard from before. Needless to say, I racked my brain as to who it could be and I kind of immediately thought, "Zachary German!" because I have more than openly pondered his existence via Ellen Frances' Blog and I suppose that if one young man were to randomly read my blog and have something to say, it might be him. Plus, I was told that hes a rather vocal young man and may not have a problem being semi-insane via the internet. At first, I saved the screen name as "Mystery Reader" and then when it reappeared online later, I discovered that it was in fact that The Virgin that I met, harassed, and mentioned many months ago. Im pretty sure his name was Keith and so now, he is saved as "Keith Virgin." At any rate, the messages received were so unusual in the stream-of-consciousness realm that I had to share, especially since they, at one point or another, pertain to this blog. The concept of "The Gash" is rather accurate, considering the fact that I really dont address very much of whats going on in my life because a lot of it is extremely inappropriate to blatantly put online for all the world to see. I write mild updates and share things like these instant messages that can be read and enjoyed by all without incriminating myself or offending anyone, so: Yes. There is a gash, and now there is also a series of semi-maniacal, semi-hilarious, semi-intelligable notes to me for all to read, laugh at, and enjoy.

Halloween Halloweed

October 31st is my favorite day of the year, by far, and we take the implications of Halloween very seriously in these parts. Its in my blood, even my parents and their friends go all out. Both Addie and I are vehement believers in the necessary use of blood and guts in our costumes - Halloween was meant to be scary, after all, not just slutty - and so we plan, dress, and latex accordingly. In 2006 were a zombie and a vampire. In 2007 we were The Black Dahlia and Helen Jewett. This year we were Sarah Palin and her Trophy Wolf (shot three times from a helicopter.) All in all, what couldve been a failure due to poor delayed evening planning ended up being an extraordinarily good time. I did Lisa's hair and makeup to be a Blond Dahlia with finger waves and then Addie, Sam, and Alex all came over to do a bit of drinking. Addie turned Alex into a skeleton and Sam was the embodiment of "Die Yuppie Scum!", incredibly realistically so. We all went to a decent house party for a bit before the tenants announced that the cops had been called and then Addie, Alex and I went to Rubulad, despite having stayed away for over a year. Lots of Absinthe, lollipops, lots of weed, posing for photos with strangers, lots of people named Joe, including Joe Biden, seats traded for cigarettes, old friends and their girlfriends dressed as Trolls, a boy on Ecstasy enjoying the feel of our stockinged legs, and buttered popcorn at 5am to avoid the hangover. Halloween 2008 might have been the best of three, thus far. This holiday season I celebrated almost every day, watching Saw V, House of 1000 Corpses, Mother of Tears, The Exorcist, Children of the Corn, The Craft, Hellraiser, Inside, The Dentist, and a few other forgotten titles. I already cant wait until next year.


Solo Wolf and a Timeline