Flashback Friday: Bookfoolery: If I never sleep again until the end of my days, at least I will die well-read

This post originally appeared on June 24, 2010 at 6:26 p.m.

Maybe “well” is subjective …

If anyone but my Asia Argento plays Lisbeth Salander in an English-speaking adaptation of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I will put my hand through a blender. I pictured her the entire time I was reading.

Finished Girl With the Dragon Tattoo over a sleepless night that lead to one uneasy stretch of light snooze cut short by sudden bouts of vomiting. I found it very absorbing — the book, not the violent gut spasms from who-knows-what combination of stress and inattentively poor personal care — but it caromed briefly in to a few areas for which I was not wild. Still it all hung together in the end and I recommend it without reservation. Then I ended up reading a particularly pulpy and breezy Ross Macdonald mystery from the 70’s whose title I have already forgotten even though it kept me company for several hours.

See? Lots of people have insomnia and go on to have perfectly normal Summers! The Shining (Kubrick, 1980).

I only remember that I’d picked it up a few months back along with a couple 70’s editions of Zane Grey at my preferred comic store, which, besides selling comics and related games and accessories, also carries a small inventory of used, cheapo books and spotty collections of memorabilia depending on what luckless local nerds have either died or lost enough money to place their treasures in hock. I snatched up the Greys and this Macdonald book a few months ago because I dug the kind of blocky-schlocky look to the lines of the cover art.

The Underground Man — that’s right. Decent enough title, I guess.

The phrase “blew my mind” was used repeatedly in the book to refer to literally taking too much acid and suffering brain damage and prolonged schizophrenic episodes triggered by hallucinations, which usage I thought was a handy demonstration of the evolution of slang — in the book it was suggestive of overdose and possible fatality, but you can see how it developed over time the more benign definition it has now in the sense of changing one’s worldview in a feller-than-the-usual-pace-of-educational swoop, while still somewhat referencing the phrase’s original intent.

2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968). He swar to gar for all his life that whole sequences of this film were not planned to look like an acid trip, to which anyone who has ever done acid says, “Sure.”

The Macdonald book wasn’t the worst thing ever and some of the slangy shenanigans and quaintly dated rough talk in it wet my palate for some Hammett. I never re-read Red Harvest until October (red HARVEST, get it?) but I also brought down with me from Portland The Dain Curse and the Op’s short-story collection and could give one of those a spin. Think that’s what I’ll do tonight.

Actually maybe Hammett is only the appetizer. Know what? I think I will try to squeeze in L.A. Confidential before I have to pick up Tommyknockers. I usually, though not maniacally, like to read that closer to Christmastime because of the whole Bloody Christmas scandal that sparks so much of the action, but I’ve been self-auditing through all these long sick waking nights, and by setting this bookfoolery in to print I have come to see that I’ve got some really fucked-up and compulsive reading habits which are even perhaps the least of my worries and so I feel like rebelling against myself in this small thing to test the waters of making Change happen. I’m going to do this because I can.

Synchronicity — just dug out Red Harvest and the quote on the front cover is from Ross Macdonald, the author whose pulp I read this morning. Wild way that the universe is telling me I’m on the right track? or subconscious self-affirmation from whatever part of my brain has been looking at that (quite kickass) Red Harvest cover for the last four years?

I can’t say for sure. Either way, tell that girl from Canada that it ain’t ironic.

Milton May — All apologies.

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
to reign is worth ambition though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.

(John Milton. Paradise Lost, Book 1: 261-263.)

Sorry, John Milton fans. Miltonians? Miltonites? Miltoniacs. You feeling that? Anyway, I dropped the ball on Milton May so we’ll have to extend the focus in to “John Milton June.” Consider this a preview of coming attractions.

PSA: Feat. very special guest star NSFW Asia Argento

PSA: Talked to Big Ben and we made an executive decision —

— It is now retro to have Commando Fridays. Tell a friend!

Goethe Month: The unforgettable sight of Margareta

Asia forever.

By God, but that’s a lovely girl!
More lovely than I’ve ever met.
So virtuous, so decent, yet
A touch of sauciness as well!
Her lips so red, her cheeks so bright —
All my life I’ll not forget that sight.

(Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust, Act I, Scene 10, 2609–15.)

Bella Argento. You have just been blinded. With Science.

Goethe Month: Reflections on the Lord featuring very special guest star Asia Argento’s midriff

Doesn’t surprise me that Christ our Lord
preferred to live with whores
& sinners, seeing
I go in for that myself.

(Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Venetian Epigrams, As translated by Jerome Rothenberg.)

Bookfoolery: If I never sleep again until the end of my days, at least I will die well-read

Maybe “well” is subjective …

If anyone but my Asia Argento plays Lisbeth Salander in an English-speaking adaptation of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I will put my hand through a blender. I pictured her the entire time I was reading.

Finished Girl With the Dragon Tattoo over a sleepless night that lead to one uneasy stretch of light snooze cut short by sudden bouts of vomiting. I found it very absorbing — the book, not the violent gut spasms from who-knows-what combination of stress and inattentively poor personal care — but it caromed briefly in to a few areas for which I was not wild. Still it all hung together in the end and I recommend it without reservation. Then I ended up reading a particularly pulpy and breezy Ross Macdonald mystery from the 70’s whose title I have already forgotten even though it kept me company for several hours.

See? Lots of people have insomnia and go on to have perfectly normal Summers! The Shining (Kubrick, 1980).

I only remember that I’d picked it up a few months back along with a couple 70’s editions of Zane Grey at my preferred comic store, which, besides selling comics and related games and accessories, also carries a small inventory of used, cheapo books and spotty collections of memorabilia depending on what luckless local nerds have either died or lost enough money to place their treasures in hock. I snatched up the Greys and this Macdonald book a few months ago because I dug the kind of blocky-schlocky look to the lines of the cover art.

The Underground Man — that’s right. Decent enough title, I guess.

The phrase “blew my mind” was used repeatedly in the book to refer to literally taking too much acid and suffering brain damage and prolonged schizophrenic episodes triggered by hallucinations, which usage I thought was a handy demonstration of the evolution of slang — in the book it was suggestive of overdose and possible fatality, but you can see how it developed over time the more benign definition it has now in the sense of changing one’s worldview in a feller-than-the-usual-pace-of-educational swoop, while still somewhat referencing the phrase’s original intent.

2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968). He swar to gar for all his life that whole sequences of this film were not planned to look like an acid trip, to which anyone who has ever done acid says, “Sure.”

The Macdonald book wasn’t the worst thing ever and some of the slangy shenanigans and quaintly dated rough talk in it wet my palate for some Hammett. I never re-read Red Harvest until October (red HARVEST, get it?) but I also brought down with me from Portland The Dain Curse and the Op’s short-story collection and could give one of those a spin. Think that’s what I’ll do tonight.

Actually maybe Hammett is only the appetizer. Know what? I think I will try to squeeze in L.A. Confidential before I have to pick up Tommyknockers. I usually, though not maniacally, like to read that closer to Christmastime because of the whole Bloody Christmas scandal that sparks so much of the action, but I’ve been self-auditing through all these long sick waking nights, and by setting this bookfoolery in to print I have come to see that I’ve got some really fucked-up and compulsive reading habits which are even perhaps the least of my worries and so I feel like rebelling against myself in this small thing to test the waters of making Change happen. I’m going to do this because I can.

Synchronicity — just dug out Red Harvest and the quote on the front cover is from Ross Macdonald, the author whose pulp I read this morning. Wild way that the universe is telling me I’m on the right track? or subconscious self-affirmation from whatever part of my brain has been looking at that (quite kickass) Red Harvest cover for the last four years?

I can’t say for sure. Either way, tell that girl from Canada that it ain’t ironic.

William Blake Month: Alas! the Female Martyr

For a Tear is an Intellectual thing;
And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King
And the bitter groan of a Martyr’s woe
Is an Arrow from the Almighty’s Bow.

(William Blake, excerpt from “To the Deists,” in Jerusalem: The Emanation of The Giant Albion.)

Alas! the Female Martyr
Is She also the Divine Image?

(William Blake, For the Sexes: The Gates of Paradise.)

William Blake Month: The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

“Birth of an Angel” photographed by Daniel Ilinca.

I have always found that Angels have the vanity to speak of themselves as the only wise; this they do with a confident insolence…

Asia Argento.

Once I saw a Devil in a flame of fire, who arose before an Angel that sat on a cloud. And the Devil utter’d these words, “The worship of God is: Honouring his gifts in other men each according to his genius, and loving the greatest men best; those who envy or calumniate great men hate God, for there is no other God.”

… When he had so spoken, I beheld the Angel, who stretched out his arms, embracing the flame of fire & he was consumed and arose as Elijah.

Credit lost.

This Angel, who is now become a Devil, is my particular friend: we often read the Bible together in its infernal or diabolical sense, which the world shall have if they behave well.

I have also The Bible of Hell — which the world shall have whether they will or no.

(William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell excerpt.)

Super-sorry: Asia Argento violent and NSFW edition

I’ve been pretty lazy about posting shit up the last few days. The thing is this…

La Madre Terza Italian trailer. Daria e Asia — Dario Argento’s ladies. In Mother of Tears, the final chapter of the trilogy begun in Suspiria, the ladies’ male figure, director, father, former partner Dario, has written a script which has them chased, stabbed, raped, beaten, and threatened with cannibalism. And you thought your family had issues.

I got this cracked version of a new program that does sequential screencaps on a timer. For those who do not know what that means, it means it takes a still digital photograph of whatever video you are watching on your computer. It’s basically an amazing program that is better than any other I’ve ever used, and I’ve spent the last two days obsessively watching and screencapping Dario Argento movies, specifically ones with his special ladies in them (Nicolodi, his longtime partner, and Argento, their daughter). Mainly Stendhal Syndrome, which I for some reason rewatched again in the middle of the night and recapped because I found a higher quality version.

Also, somehow between yesterday and today, I’m pretty sure all I’ve eaten is a box of reduced fat Cheez-its. I don’t know why I was incapable of stopping, either the movies or the crackers, but I am relieved that I finally put a lid on it. Actually, come to think of it, I’d probably still be doing it, honestly, (I haven’t even done Profundo Rosso except for the trailer!, and I have a box of Triscuits in the pantry that isn’t even open yet) but life intervened and I’ve had obligations this morning.

Rapist and murderer Alfredo regards Detective Anna Manni, whom he has raped and kidnapped and forced to watch him do the same to another young woman, through the hole he just blew through the victim’s jaw. She is trapped in a snow globe with a statue of the David, rendered helpless by her Stendhal Syndrome, the overpowering physical reaction to art. Yeah, I watched this twice yesterday. What the fucking fuck is the matter with me? Do I just never want to sleep again?

But if you ever need pretty much every single frame of The Stendhal Syndrome, well, you know who to hit up.

Pretty slick, eh?

I’d like to talk a lot more about The Stendhal Syndrome another day, so stay tuned … eventually.

Fret not because Anna has her day — until …. ?? You don’t know giallo if you think when the killer dies the movie is over.

And it wouldn’t be an Asia post without boobies. Duh.

Asia in Boarding Gate.

NSFW Advice: Asia Argento again, naturally

Writing about giallo the other day made me crave some Argento in my life. I find Asia much more beautiful and darkly lost than her father, giallo master Dario, so I turned to her. As always.

“I can’t remember too much about my father until I was eight. Up until that point he used to tell me that all kids smelt of shit and so he couldn’t be bothered with them. I think our halting relationship started in earnest when [her mother] Daria moved me away from him so he became much more important to me.” (Senses of Cinema)

“I never thought it was weird that my father would have me naked and raped in his movies until a friend pointed it out to me. I was just making movies and never even thought about the possible subtext going on. Nor do I have the psychological tools to decode his latent feelings. Perhaps I haven’t wanted to either because it might reveal something I have no desire to discover. Is Dario reliving his relationship with Daria through me? I did think at one time I was only born so my father had an actress in the family he could work with in the future.”

And I thought I had Daddy Issues.

Advice: Asia Argento, quelle surprise, NSFW umpteenth edition

“People think I’m a cliché. The dark lady, the bitch from Hell. All they can see is that I’m naked.” — Asia Argento

Like so many of my favorite quotes from Ms. A, I find a solid corner on the veracity of this complaint …. problematic. (I hate what I am about to say, but…if you are troubled by the fact that all people can see is your nudity, perhaps a quick robe might help?) But where it helps me is, it forces me to analyze whether I, too, set myself up for whatever stereotypification, dislike, or victimization I receive: is it easier to seek the familiar even if what is familiar is ostracism? I still haven’t told my “why-I-must-throttle-back-on-woman-judging” story, it’s really good and speaks beautifully to this point. At this stage, with thinking of it so much yet still not setting thoughts down, I must be avoiding it on purpose. Sorry. I’ll get there.

“I always saw myself as really ugly. My father even told me I was ugly because I would shave my head and look like a boy. It was strange for me to have to research femininity, but I found out these tricks for getting attention that I didn’t know before. It was a kind of revenge, I guess, on all the kids who said I was ugly at school.” –Asia Argento

Bar none best and most unflinchingly honest moment from her thinly veiled autobiography and directorial debut, Scarlet Diva: shaving her pits in the bathroom while puffing a dangler. I love this woman, crazy talk and flawed logic and all, maybe even more because of it, in fact.

A confession: NSFW Asia Argento Once More

Looks like it’s you and me forever, Asia. Alone again, naturally.

“When I was getting ready to make my own film, I thought, ‘The only genre left that has never been explored creatively is pornography.’ Yes, there are very specific rules. But there’s still so much to tell, even so. My favorite thing about porno is that it’s real — I mean the sex is real. Porno moves me so much more than films like Gone With The Wind, because I am always reminded that these people on screen actually met, and this actually happened. No other kind of film can give you that feeling.” –Asia Argento

Are these words of wisdom? I’m not so sure, I think any kind of film, if it is well done, can give you that feeling. I have cried at commercials, imagining that they have happened, buying into the images I am being sold. I do not need to see hardcore penetration to believe someone is in love, someone is fucking. I can construct that aspect of the relationship in my imagination, given clever enough visual clues. It is all in the cinematic discourse.

Not everything requires nudity and verite.

Although, from Ms. Argento, I am not saying such hallmarks are unwelcome.

PSA: Asia Argento Edition (nsfw, obviously)

Public Service Announcement, guys.

You may think that’s Asia Argento you’re with, but have you really checked to be sure?

Yep, it’s her.

Giving the people what they want: Inaugural edition feat. boob-gropin’ Megan Mullally

There has been nary even ONE SINGLE search for “Maggie Gyllenhaal” and “bdsm” on this blog (which I expected to see and find the lack frankly disappointing), but “boobs” and “Megan Mullally” tip the scales dramatically, even coming in ahead of “Asia Argento,” “gay batman,” and “Drew Barrymore.” So, heck, here you go, awesome internet party people: a little bit o’ Miss Megan Mullally lezzin’ out with Debra Messing a couple years back at an awards show:

And a quickie of just some topless Megs, cause she’s my fave from the sitcom Will and Grace, which I pretty much never watched so I guess it is pointless to say I have a favorite, but I will say whatever she did on that television thing, she is onstage a damned fine singer to boot.

Enjoy! Eskimo kisses to you all!

It happens: Asia Argento NSFW Edition

Like she was not already a bombass superfly lady in her own right, she is also director Dario Argento’s daughter. I said goddamn, Asia Argento. You had me at buon giorno. Haters to the left!

A confession: I feel like this picture represents my attitude toward women up until recently: a lot of masculine posturing, deliberate naughtiness with a subsconscious eye toward alienation, and tightly concealed feminine anxiety (keeping your feelings secret from a woman is virtually impossible, and this is mainly terrifying to me — I feel that the sheer dress represents this vain and futile attempt to conceal my very real girly core, which is just as sensitive and emotional as all-git-out and I shudder to admit makes me as vulnerable as any other chick on the block). But I’ve been on this new quest to strengthen my pre-existing female relationships—I have close female friends without whom I could literally not live, yet I still insist that women don’t get along with me; clearly this is false or else is based on residual hurt from some distant past that I need to just plain get over—and hopefully forge some new ones, too.

I’m trying to overcome my shyness around women and be less of a geeky tomboy, or at least balance that trait, and to stop pigeonholing 51% of the world’s population as likely to dislike me. I am guilty of reverse discrimination: by assuming a girl is not going to “get” me or like me, I am not only doing my sex a terrible turn, but I am also depriving myself of the opportunity to meet and learn from a new person. So I am working on this.