Here’s a quote for this month. If it inspires you to write a lil’somethin’ somethin’, please feel free to share it! “One should be a painter. As a writer, I feel the beauty, which is almost entirely colour, very subtle, very changeable, running over my pen, as if you poured a large jug of champagne […]
Look, it’s the Hegel age – you know it and I know it. It’s been the Hegel age for the past 200 hundred years, but only recently have we come to realize that in all the recent attempts to “overcome Kant” there is no overcoming Kant like the Hegelian overcoming of Kant. Thus Hegel is back (because he never left).
Now, the problem with Hegel is that, well, he is too Hegelian – too difficult to understand, too German and inaccessible, too time-consuming. Fear not, dear future Hegelians! Here are a few useful tips on faking your way through Hegel – if you follow these, you will surely come across as the most intelligent and thought-provoking expert on all things Hegelian.
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What follows is not a review of Quentin Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight, but rather the observations of a dramaturg on some of the more theatrical aspects of mainstream cinema’s favourite mix-tape style auteur.
In the run up to my seeing The Hateful Eight at the cinema, I was tipped off by a number of friends to this film containing more theatrical elements than some of Tarantino’s other work.
I should preface this of course by highlighting that by theatrical I do not necessarily mean exaggerated, which in some common usage it is synonymous with, but rather to mean that which utilises techniques drawn from or commonly used in theatrical form.
And, following my attendance at the pictures tonight to see it for myself, I was interested to observe a few particularities about the more theatrical aspects of The Hateful Eight from my admittedly skewed perspective.
In a number of…
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Part of Glasgow International Comedy Festival
”Time is a waiter- he offers you all these things on the menu, then takes them away… teeth, trousers… AHA! You won’t be needing those anymore”.
Ah, Dylan Moran, lovely Dylan, erstwhile writer of surrealist gem Black Books , with his tousled hair, crumpled disposition and seemingly shambolic, but really whip-smart, routines. Mocking his own middle-class mores and existential dread, whilst sipping on a nice glass of red wine, he is on top form tonight, berating the latecomers with a swift kick to their sense of self-entitlement.
His is a lovely warm self-deprecation,which has taken years to ferment: lyrical and sprinkled with the kind of storytelling that only arrives after years of night sweats. His realisation that he’s now an uncool middle-aged man being served by a barrista ”who resembles an Edwardian who invented the hot-air balloon” is delivered with equal parts scorn and…
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Yes, I’m reblogging myself… I’m that arrogant.
by Mr. Wolf
who are you?
He raises his gaze. The alien in the glass stares.
The question echoes across the vacuum between his ears, a riddle bouncing around void space. Is anyone out there to hear it?
Eyes trace the outline of a tired face, searching, hoping. As if the ugly mug in the mirror might know better.
A trembling hand reaches out to touch the image, the false idol.
Or am I the false one? The shadow of a reflection?
He dreads to contemplate the answer.
Cold glass meets hard fingertips.
Worlds existing in parallel, never intended to meet.
living in ink-covered pages.
belonging to stolen words.
breathing in the spaces in between.
who are you, really?
Small talk is evil.
- Post on three consecutive days.
- You can pick one or three quotes per day.
- Challenge three different bloggers per day.
Today I choose to challenge these three amazing bloggers:
My final quote of the challenge is by an anonymous source, I saw it this morning and just knew that I had to share it with you!
In my opinion, small-talk is probably one of the most painful experiences known to mankind: it’s awkward, it’s forced, it’s dull and it’s about as fun and engaging as watching beige paint dry on a wall! If you know me, you’ll know that I love to talk for hours and hours about the most random topics of conversation, and although to some that might make me seem crazy, that’s just how I’ve always been as a person.
So enjoy this final quote of the three-day quote challenge from…
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Screen icon, legend, muse to Jean Luc Godard, and the darling of the Cahiers Du Cinema, Anna Karina endures. Now a sprightly, still feisty seventy five, her story of being discovered at seventeen, and poster girl for the avant garde, is well known by film aficionados worldwide.
She’s also a style icon, as subsequent generations of women, from Alexa Chung to Charlotte Gainsbourg have emulated her classic look.
Yada,yada. Here are some tips to make yourself more like Karina. It’s not hugely practical.
- Skip a lot. In public. The general consensus will be you are carefree, a gamine and spirited / a bit of a twat. (Delete where applicable).
- Always post black and white images of yourself on Instagram. YOU are the colour.
- Sleep with an auteur.
- Smoke constantly, particularly when arriving an hour late to meet friends.
- Widen your eyes at every available opportunity.It doesn’t look deranged. You’re…
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When a friend told me past midnight to check the news about Paris, I had no idea that I would be looking at a map of a city I love, delineating locations undergoing terrorist attacks simultaneously. I zoomed in on that map closer; one of the locations was right to where I had stayed when I was there in 2013, down that same boulevard.
The more I read, the higher the number of fatalities went. It was horrible; it was dehumanizing; it was utterly and irrevocably hopeless: 2015 was ending the way it started – with terrorists attacks occuring in Lebanon and France almost at the same time, in the same context of demented creatures spreading hate and fear and death wherever they went.
I woke up this morning to two broken cities. My friends in Paris who only yesterday were asking what was happening in Beirut were now on the opposite side…
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Imagine going to work every day and at the start of your day, with your first cup of coffee, you sit down to glance at beheadings, children in the process of being raped, human bodies in various stages of decomposition, the living and dead results of domestic violence, hanging bodies of 10 year old boys accused of being gay, real-life snuff films and bloody dog fighting rings and their subsequent results. Can you think up a human horror? I’ve probably seen it or a picture or video of something very similar. It’s fair to say that some of the people who work around me do not fare so well. Often they end up suffering from the endless barrage of horror they witness 8 to 12 hours per day. Did I share that *most* of these people make around a dollar per hour to do this job? That’s the truth. Not…
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