"Did he just say 'licky me'?"
Now Playing: Brian Eno--"Here Come The Warm Jets" (at Shaman Drum, anyway)
Well. Hrm. This is the sound of me eating my words.

Yesterday was unbelievable. I ran into Emily on Liberty Street on my way home from work and she explained that she didn't have a phone anymore and my number had been lost with it, and that she was still very interested in getting together. Since I've lost phones before, and since I had voicemail trouble the first week after she left Cafe du Jour and asked me to call her, I really can't say anything. I'm just unusually not unhappy right now. I'm gonna call her tonight and basically completely ignore my previous post, as I hope she does if she ever comes here. I'd delete it, but I don't really believe in doing things that way.

I watched Alan Pakula's conspiracy classic The Parallax View (1974) last night, but it did nothing to dent my mood. There's an awesomely trippy "corporate orientation"/mind-control sequence for people who enjoy that sort of thing. In any case, I think all the nasty stuff that happens to Warren Beatty in the movie is just cosmic retribution for his hair.

This morning was fantastic, too. I logged about seven or eight miles, following the course of the Huron in a ragged sort of fashion through the Arb, along Fuller Road, Riverside and Bandemer Parks, and then back again down North Main. It was supposed to rain cats and dogs this weekend, but it's been clear sailing for the most part. I carried my umbrella all day yesterday and probably looked like an idiot, but I surely would have managed that anyhow without the brolly.

Yesterday wasn't all fun and games, though--Eddie Albert died, so raise a glass to his memory if you've a soft spot for the man. I've never actually seen "Green Acres," but I'll always treasure his performance as the sleazy, corrupt warden in The Longest Yard (1974). I had no idea that he was so old (99) or any inkling of his wartime heroism at Tarawa. Happy trails, Eddie.

Finding Another Fish
Now Playing: Nick Drake--"Hazy Jane II"
One of the most disappointing weeks since I moved here has come to a close. Ann Arbor hasn't been the happiest place for me, but most weeks aren't marked by the expectations I had for the last one.

Emily hasn't responded to any of about ten phone messages scattered throughout the week and I'm forced to conclude that she isn't interested in any sort of relationship, friendly or otherwise. "There are other fish in the sea," to be sure. I just hope it doesn't take another four years or so for me to find one. Of course, it's not like I really need anyone to go see Walk On Water with.

No word back on the job interview, but a number of other restaurants are hiring, too. So I guess that actually isn't all that disappointing. I felt pretty good today, and still do, so... what am I bitching about, really?

A great week to everyone!

An Open Message For Visitors--All Are Welcome
Now Playing: The Strawbs--"Sad Young Man"
There's been a recent kerfuffle (my first!) that makes me want to more openly affirm the purpose of this website.

Above everything else, it's to maintain my sanity. It's like talking to oneself but with other people reading (listening?). In the course of doing so, I may occasionally let loose the odd "blue word." This may cause distress for some folk, which is unfortunate but unavoidable. Those who find themselves appalled by such language are still very welcome at the Clown's Death Rattle, but have only themselves to blame from here on in if they are surprised at the chance obscenity that shows up in these pages. Thanks for understanding, and enjoy whatever the hell it is you people find to enjoy here.

On a brighter note, I got a kitchen staff job interview call at an Ann Arbor restaurant last night while watching Derek Jarman's Jubilee (1977). It's on Wednesday, and the movie, while better known than Caravaggio (1986), wasn't as good, I thought.

Cinema Guild showed this Sunday afternoon. The first paragraph of the review is a classic.

May Fool
Now Playing: The Faces--"You Can Make Me Dance, Sing Or Anything"
This week has been pretty splendiferous, all told.

I went out on a date for the first time in four years Wednesday night. A charming, intelligent, and attractive young woman named Emily, who recently worked at the restaurant, asked me out just before she left, which was fantastic, as I don't think dating people at work is a good idea (anymore). We went to see the Enron documentary, The Smartest Guys in the Room, which was informative, passionate, and witty, the movie Fahrenheit 9/11 should have been. Of course, the movie took a back seat to me trying to comprehend the enormity of what was taking place in the theater. I haven't been out on an actual date in four years, so this... has got me in a bit of a tizzy, quite frankly. Nothing else of any importance is going on, not that it would. I even view Ann Arbor in a different light these days (of course, any other town in the country would also assume a brighter hue under such circumstances, so the place is still overrated). Here's hoping I don't fuck things up somehow.

"No one's asking your son to eat human flesh!!"
Now Playing: children and cats, presumably, in some part of the world
Yesterday, a friend of mine and I were transporting electronic equipment in a sunlit section of Ann Arbor talking about women and I almost felt happy. This past week hasn't been that bad, which is probably why I haven't been posting so much. I need to stop watching so many movies. I've started reading a lot again, and need to start writing. I've applied to three restaurants in the area, and hopefully I can get an evening and/or weekend cooking job with one of them. In the meantime, I'm going to try and maintain this bizarre euphoria that's taken hold (I think I know why, but I want to make certain of it).

"Revolution is the Opiate of the Intellectuals"
Now Playing: an indistinct rattle from last night overstaying its welcome
You can see the title quote on a wall in Lindsay Anderson's O Lucky Man! (1973), which I loved in high school but now think is pretty overrated, certainly not comparable with if... (1968), but the soundtrack's terrific. That's my homage to May Day, thanks.

I had fun last night, and it's a long time since I've done so. I arrived at the Blind Pig after a self-imposed Vincent Price retrospective at 1516 Geddes--The Masque of the Red Death (1964) and Theatre of Blood (1973). They were great, especially the latter, and I won't say anything about them except that I am willing to kill for Eric Sykes' Snively Whiplash-caliber mustache.

A pleasant surprise--along with the Hard Lessons and the Avatars, the Elevations were playing as well. Three of Michigan's best bands for $8! I love the Elevations, although I really didn't get into the night's groove until the Avatars, led by the delectable Mariah Cherem--picture an amalgam of Wendy O. Williams, Joan Jett, and one of those "Nagel girls" from the cover of Duran Duran's Rio and you have a vague idea. I spent much of the next half hour imitating a Shaker next to a fellow doing likewise, and I'm guessing neither of us knew the first thing about knitting. I'm still making my way through the Hard Lessons' CD; I only had three Molsons but it's been a long time since I imbibed, so I still had a headache this morning.

Anyone interested in a meal at the Fleetwood Diner should try it Sunday morning--you get good food for rock-bottom prices (for Ann Arbor, anyway) and the pleasure of listening to servers Kathy and Aviva joking and making my day brighter (and yours, if you have any taste). Highly recommended.

My boss thinks I should go to culinary school. I'm going to exhaust the library option first, but it's an honorable profession and definitely worth considering...

Post-life Stasis
Now Playing: the soft, hypnotic whirr of the hard drive
It's been an astonishingly blah week. I was sick for a few days and feeling miserable, and the weather currently outside reflects my mood (although I'm feeling better now). Nothing's been done, nothing's been happening--although I did finally see a couple of movies I've wanted to check out for a while.

It's Alive (1974) is kind of funny as it concerns a feral, homicidal newborn baby, and came out the year I was born. I'm starting to like Larry Cohen a lot, as he has a sick yet truly insightful view of American culture, and manages to get this across even as the latest addition to the Davis family roams cheesy West Los Angeles stealing milk bottles and chewing out the throats of milkmen.

Whisky Galore (1949) might be the best movie I've ever seen set in Scotland. An Ealing Studios gem directed by Alexander Mackendrick, it tells the story of an island in the Outer Hebrides during the war that's gone without whiskey for months. A ship founders off the coast with a cargo of guess what and the islanders have to figure how to spirit the stuff away (no pun intended) without the Excise men sniffing them out. Great fun.

They cheered me up, anyway. The Avatars and Hard Lessons are playing tonight at the Blind Pig, for the latter's record release party--it ought to be good. At least I hope so.

Saturday Night's All Right For Fighting
Now Playing: Kelly Jean Caldwell--"I Used To Be Sad"
Today is very strange--a little last flick of the winter whip in the middle of spring (or as close to spring as this godforsaken corner of the globe gets). It's snowing a little outside and the wind takes no prisoners.

The news today has good and bad. Good--apparently the Detroit News is "reprimanding" Mitch Albom. Bad--John Mills is dead! I knew the guy was as old as a rock, but this is still a little sad, yet one more passing of the torch. It's all here.

Another fun-filled Planned Parenthood volunteer night Thursday, as I declared my love for cheese and both Jess and myself received a barrage of ribbing from Meredith regarding our continued fondness for "The O.C." This weekend's been pretty blah, but that agrees with the weather, and it's nice to relax after Friday, which was insanely busy.

I'm listening to the Kelly Caldwell CD right now, "Banner of a Hundred Hearts," for which the show April 7 was a release party. Absolutely divine. Once again, one of the few good things about this area is that it has a pretty decent little music scene. I missed the Of Montreal show at the Blind Pig last night but will definitely be there for the Hard Lessons and Avatars show on the 30th. Two of Michigan's greatest bands for a reasonable cover charge--very nice.

To Live Like The Hu-Man
Now Playing: The Microphones--"Florida Beach"
A friend and ex-coworker of mine, who I hadn't seen in some considerable time, stopped by work yesterday to say hello. Her schedule makes it impossible to come by when we're open, and I really don't like her workplace (and apparently she feels the same way). So it was quite a pleasant surprise to see her. We decided to go get a beer at Ashley's, as it was happy hour, and had a very pleasant time. I felt weird the whole time, as I don't hang out around other people too much and wonder on occasion if my social skills have permanently withered. I also realized how much more pleasant life is when you're with someone else in any capacity. Thanks, Elizabeth.

Oh, and another thing. I'm not Catholic and I obviously believe that people make considerable personal transformations in their lives, especially from the way they were as adolescents. That said, do you suppose that anyone in the recent papal conclave asked "do y'all think we shouldn't elect someone who was in the Hitler Youth?" Just a thought.

Clam Chowder In The Morning
Now Playing: Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel--"Make Me Smile (Come Up And See Me)"
After seeing the final installment of Cinema Guild's Mario Bava retrospective, Rabid Dogs (1975), I need a shower.

The weekend was pretty pleasant on average. I checked out a bunch of movies and went for a lot of long walks, now that the weather has improved considerably. I stopped at the Old Town for a couple of beers, and now like that place even more, as it's one of the few bars I still enjoy visiting around here.

My volunteer shift at WRAP yesterday made me think about my motives for volunteering (for WRAP and Planned Parenthood). I've pretty much come to the conclusion that it's a matter of self-interest (or selfishness), that volunteering makes me feel good about myself when nothing else will. There's nothing necessarily wrong with that--after all, it's still doing a good thing--but it's a little weird, if liberating, to fully acknowledge the pleasure component, for lack of a better word. If I can feel good about myself by doing good for other people (however little of that there actually is), then I don't really think I should beat myself up over it.

I'm going to start studying for the GRE this week, either getting a prep manual from Borders or ordering a used one from half.com, and hopefully retake it sometime this summer. I'm sick of being here with no reason.

Lots of movies this weekend. Friday, Lou showed the Howard Hawks double bill. I'd forgotten how incredibly awesome Scarface was. Violence, intrigue, possible incest, an Al Pacino-like frenzy of near-overacting at the end, and Ann Dvorak as Paul Muni's jailbait sister. Fabulous. Only Angels Have Wings, about a gang of bush pilots in South America, managed to pall in comparison, even with Jean Arthur and Rita Hayworth. There's really nothing like a pre-Code movie.

Larry Cohen's God Told Me To (1975), is about God telling people in New York City to become murderers. One of the most imaginative movies I've ever seen come out of this country. Ken Loach's Raining Stones (1993) has Bruce Jones from Coronation Street as a Mancunian shlub trying to get the money together for his daughter's First Communion dress. I watched it this morning while eating leftover clam chowder from work for breakfast. An unusually heartfelt movie from Loach, I thought--although I still haven't seen Kes (1969).

Rabid Dogs concerned the getaway of a trio of psycho crooks with three hostages. It was very well-done but very unpleasant; a young woman in the audience had to leave during a particularly nasty scene, and I was almost right behind her. However (and it was probably different for me, being a guy), I try not to let myself get defeated by these things. The only two movies I remember getting the better of me (i.e., my inability to make it through them) were Rock 'n' Roll Wrestling Women Vs. The Aztec Ape (1962) and Agnieszka Holland's Total Eclipse (1995), with Leo DiCaprio and David Thewlis in the roles of Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine, respectively. With actors like that, and with a scene where Romane Bohringer lolled around Verlaine's bedroom naked but for a top hat, it still managed to be one of the most stultifying movies I've ever seen.

I think I'm going to clear my palate this evening--maybe clean my room, maybe watch The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (probably just the thing after Rabid Dogs) and have some more clam chowder.

My life is almost overpoweringly stirring.