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Showing posts from June, 2011

Movie Review: Midnight in Paris

I recently saw the latest Woody Allen movie, Midnight in Paris . I have to say it was better and more engaging than any of what I'd refer to as the later Woody Allen films (those from the past ten years or so), other than Melinda and Melinda , which I really dug. In the words of a good friend of mine, "It made me smile." As far as the film's moral scope, its statement on life, I'd have to refer to the main character Gil's (Owen Wilson's) own words in the film: "I'm having an insight. It's not that big of an insight, but it's an insight none the less" [sic]. This film partly takes place during one of my favorite periods of history: Paris in the 1920s. In the film, Gil runs into the likes of Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Picasso, Dali, T.S. Elliot, and others. These characters don't serve any real function in the plot, except to show Gil that even back in the "idyllic" age of the 1920s, people still had problems and even longe

Two Nights of Punk

It was a crazy weekend. I'm still not recovered, and it's Wednesday. And no, I'm not talking about my liver...I hardly drank at all. I'm talking about my ear-drums... To make a long story short: I've had two new reviews published in NUVO: AND To make a short story long: Thursday I hit the Vollrath, down in south Indy, for a night of Punk/Garage music featuring some local bands, and two from Chicago. Then on Saturday night I hit Indy's infamous Punk Rock Night down at the Melody Inn. Both shows were...well...loud. Beyond that, I'm out of creative descriptors for Punk music. What can I say? I like Punk and Garage and anything similar. For me, it's immediate: I don't have to think about it. I spend so much time in my life thinking and pondering and analyzing, that when it comes to music I like to (wait for it) have my face burned off, plain and simple. Granted, I will go in for the soulful, folky, singer-

The Pistol Poets, by Victor Gischler

For the past two months I've been in this sort of post graduate-school ADD phase. I can't even read the entire back of a cereal box without getting a headache. Seriously...I start reading a book, get to page 3, and put it down. Until, that is, I picked up The Pistol Poets, by Victor Gischler. I've read 60 pages in two days. For me, that's a miracle. Kind of like a smoker going an entire day without a cigarette. And unless Gischler does something in the next 200 pages to really bore me or piss me off, I think I've found my new favorite author. I won't get overly detailed with my description of his stuff (I'm already losing interest in this blog post...what's on TV?), but suffice it to say, he writes in a funny, sarcastic, easy-going style that isn't too self-consciously funny or sarcastic. This particular book is also about academia, and features complete low-life, bottom-dwellers as its main characters. And let's face it, who likes to read abo