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morrigirlGod bless SkullSpace. Unable to think of an interesting title for this entry I simply visited their site and got the little pearl above. In my quest for title generators I also came across The Job Title Generator for Library and Information Science Professionals. Had much fun with that.
Last night Michael and I had one good movie experience, and one bad theater experience. We caught the 3:30 PM showing of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" at Lincoln Square. Awesome. Just awesome. It's a little different then the book and I know that'll piss off a lot of Adams purists, but as a work unto itself, it was fab. All the casting was spot on. Sam Rockwell's portrayal of Zaphod was stunning. I'd put it in the Johnny Depp/Jack Sparrow category of surprisingly good performances. And Alan Rickman was the perfect choice to voice Marvin the chronically depresed robot. Every line he uttered had the two of us in stitches. Michael, who has never read any of the books, loved the film. Said it was "magical." That's come to be one of his highest compliments when it comes to movies. If a movie is "magical" to him then that's a huge smiling thumbs up.
After catching dinner at Mom's the two of us schlepped down to East 4th Street to see a show he's reviewing for nytheatre.com. It was called "Keanu Reeves Saves the Universe" and yes, it was as awful as it sounds.
As we made our way across St. Mark's last night I told Mike that every time I go down to the East Village these days I find something new to bitch about. Apparently he has found himself in the same boat. The neighbourhood has changed so dramatically from when we were young, it's sad and disconcerting. A brief list of things we railed about: the disappearance of Star Magic and the rapidly growing evil empire known as Game Stop that replaced it, that ugly ass high rise that's going up on Astor Place, the absence of The Cube, the relocation of The Village Voice, and the shiny upper crust appearence of St. Mark's Place and the loss of the squats and fetish stores. We eulogized The Saint and the Filmore East. And then we saw theater that reminded me of 4 year olds putting on a play in the backyard. So sad. I miss the days of heavily pierced leather clad teens scoring heroin in front of the fucking community center. I miss the punks and metal heads who used to own the East Village. I miss the homeless crackheads. They were all friendly and familiar.
A non-native New Yorker once told me he didn't understand why people lamented the gentrification of neighbourhoods. After all it makes them safer and prettier. He didn't understand why one would miss the drug addicts, prostitutes, and gangbangers. At the time I couldn't explain it very well. Told him it wasn't so much the activities themselves that we missed as the "character" they brought ot the neighbourhood. That's the standard response. But now that I think about it, it's more a matter of missing the niche some of us were able to carve for ourselves in such run down or bohemian neighbourhoods. There is a certain pride attached to being able to strut through a drug and crime infested neighbourhood with nonchalance. People who make their homes in such places have always been cutting edge cool. Places like Harlem and the Village have always been creative hotbeds despite their bad reputations. To live or hang out in a neighbourhood like that, to be accepted by its inhabitants is to paint yourself as cool. Once the area cleans up and the yuppies move in it loses all its spark, all its individuality, all the characters that made the place cool to begin with, and at present cool neighbourhoods in the five boroughs are severely endangered.
By the way, did you know that Columbia is the only university in all five boroughs that has a graduate African American Studies program? Given the racial make up of this city I think the only thing I can really say to that is, what the hell? Why do I even know this you ask? Because I was thinking the other day about what I'd like to study at the graduate level other then creative writing, and the first thing that popped into my head was black studies. I really regret not getting a minor in black studies while I was an undergrad. I was one class away from it. ONE CLASS! Only reason I didn't complete the African American Lit. class that would have sealed the deal was because I had a major depressive relapse that term and had to drop all my classes. But racial relations are my second passion and the one subject other than writing I can imagine immersing myself in. Sociology doesn't give you the full picture. The only place in academia where you can get an accurate idea of racial relations in America is in the black studies department.
On a totally unrelated note, I apologize for not yet finishing up my "when we first met" stories. I'm up to the last 6 or 7 but those all promise to be fairly boring and benign so I've been putting them off. I will get around to them eventually. I'm still busy transferring all the SCN entries. I've transferred 320 of them which means I'm about half way through now. That project has come to a stall as well. I'm up to October 2002 which is right after Kirk died. I don't like reading those entries. They are much too depressing, so I'm taking my sweet time bringing them over.
It is raining outside. I hate rain.
Last night Michael and I had one good movie experience, and one bad theater experience. We caught the 3:30 PM showing of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" at Lincoln Square. Awesome. Just awesome. It's a little different then the book and I know that'll piss off a lot of Adams purists, but as a work unto itself, it was fab. All the casting was spot on. Sam Rockwell's portrayal of Zaphod was stunning. I'd put it in the Johnny Depp/Jack Sparrow category of surprisingly good performances. And Alan Rickman was the perfect choice to voice Marvin the chronically depresed robot. Every line he uttered had the two of us in stitches. Michael, who has never read any of the books, loved the film. Said it was "magical." That's come to be one of his highest compliments when it comes to movies. If a movie is "magical" to him then that's a huge smiling thumbs up.
After catching dinner at Mom's the two of us schlepped down to East 4th Street to see a show he's reviewing for nytheatre.com. It was called "Keanu Reeves Saves the Universe" and yes, it was as awful as it sounds.
As we made our way across St. Mark's last night I told Mike that every time I go down to the East Village these days I find something new to bitch about. Apparently he has found himself in the same boat. The neighbourhood has changed so dramatically from when we were young, it's sad and disconcerting. A brief list of things we railed about: the disappearance of Star Magic and the rapidly growing evil empire known as Game Stop that replaced it, that ugly ass high rise that's going up on Astor Place, the absence of The Cube, the relocation of The Village Voice, and the shiny upper crust appearence of St. Mark's Place and the loss of the squats and fetish stores. We eulogized The Saint and the Filmore East. And then we saw theater that reminded me of 4 year olds putting on a play in the backyard. So sad. I miss the days of heavily pierced leather clad teens scoring heroin in front of the fucking community center. I miss the punks and metal heads who used to own the East Village. I miss the homeless crackheads. They were all friendly and familiar.
A non-native New Yorker once told me he didn't understand why people lamented the gentrification of neighbourhoods. After all it makes them safer and prettier. He didn't understand why one would miss the drug addicts, prostitutes, and gangbangers. At the time I couldn't explain it very well. Told him it wasn't so much the activities themselves that we missed as the "character" they brought ot the neighbourhood. That's the standard response. But now that I think about it, it's more a matter of missing the niche some of us were able to carve for ourselves in such run down or bohemian neighbourhoods. There is a certain pride attached to being able to strut through a drug and crime infested neighbourhood with nonchalance. People who make their homes in such places have always been cutting edge cool. Places like Harlem and the Village have always been creative hotbeds despite their bad reputations. To live or hang out in a neighbourhood like that, to be accepted by its inhabitants is to paint yourself as cool. Once the area cleans up and the yuppies move in it loses all its spark, all its individuality, all the characters that made the place cool to begin with, and at present cool neighbourhoods in the five boroughs are severely endangered.
By the way, did you know that Columbia is the only university in all five boroughs that has a graduate African American Studies program? Given the racial make up of this city I think the only thing I can really say to that is, what the hell? Why do I even know this you ask? Because I was thinking the other day about what I'd like to study at the graduate level other then creative writing, and the first thing that popped into my head was black studies. I really regret not getting a minor in black studies while I was an undergrad. I was one class away from it. ONE CLASS! Only reason I didn't complete the African American Lit. class that would have sealed the deal was because I had a major depressive relapse that term and had to drop all my classes. But racial relations are my second passion and the one subject other than writing I can imagine immersing myself in. Sociology doesn't give you the full picture. The only place in academia where you can get an accurate idea of racial relations in America is in the black studies department.
On a totally unrelated note, I apologize for not yet finishing up my "when we first met" stories. I'm up to the last 6 or 7 but those all promise to be fairly boring and benign so I've been putting them off. I will get around to them eventually. I'm still busy transferring all the SCN entries. I've transferred 320 of them which means I'm about half way through now. That project has come to a stall as well. I'm up to October 2002 which is right after Kirk died. I don't like reading those entries. They are much too depressing, so I'm taking my sweet time bringing them over.
It is raining outside. I hate rain.
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no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 06:48 am (UTC)I poked through your journal as well and liked what I read. I'm totally adding you back. Hola amigo! (There, I've just shot my entire spanish vocabulary.)
Carla
no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 01:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 10:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 10:10 pm (UTC)God I can be such an air head sometimes. It's morrigirl.