So, the government shutdown continues. On and on. And on. And on. I'd really thought by now I'd be back at the ol' day job, but Washington, DC has become an utter circus of dysfunctional personality. All it took for someone as unqualified (in every way) as Donald Trump becoming President to see this to its ultimate lockup. Good God.
A few folks have suggested that Trump becoming President may be a good thing in the long run and instigate a reset of our entire government (its officials, not the Constitution). I'm starting to think that just might be the case. But it'll be a long, painful process. In the meantime, I just try not to think about it too much. The annual tattoo convention I work for is next week, so that'll keep me occupied for a few days. And make some much needed scratch toward impending property taxes. Now, we federal lackeys are supposed to be paid when the shutdown ends, per bills passed in the House and Senate. So that'll be money for doing nothing; I couldn't blame people for people being pissed about that one. Yep, one fucked-up situation.
In the meantime, I finally watched a film I've had in the ol' collection for several years but had not watched - "Singapore Sling." This is the kind of movie that's hard to write about. I would even suggest visiting other websites to read about the film; not sure how my synopsis will turn out, but here goes.
There are only three characters of note in the film (you see glimpses of a couple of others at times): a man who's apparently a detective, and a mother and daughter, who look very close in age. The detective speaks Greek, while the mother and daughter speak English. The mother lapses into French at times. But there is so little dialog in this movie, I would say that even if you have an allergy to subtitles, there's nothing to worry about here.
The movie is gorgeous to look at, despite what happens on screen, being shot in black and white with very interesting noir-y lighting. That may be the best thing about the movie - it's simply beautiful. The plot? Let's see. The detective is looking for a lost love named Laura and has just been shot somewhere, somehow. We see the mother and daughter burying a body, during which some the body's internal organs fall out along the ground - in gorgeous black and white. Sometime after this, the detective, after sleeping in his car for some time, makes his way to the women's house. They bring him inside, and things pretty much stay there the rest of the movie. The women alternately take care of the man, masturbate with fruits and each other, torture the man, torture each other....let's see, what else? Whenever the man starts talking about Laura, we see the daughter dress differently (there's also a portrait of her in the same garb). Music from the 1944 film "Laura" plays whenever this subject comes up.
So, you can see this is one interesting film, and it's arresting to watch, even if not much happens during its 1:51 runtime. In fact, one of my major criticisms of the movie is its running time. You could easily cut 20-30 minutes out of this and not lose a thing. The atmosphere of the movie is thick; it's established in the first 2-3 minutes. An hour-fifty-one was not necessary and I think works against it. Still, I would recommend this movie to certain art movie afficianados. Myself, not sure I'll watch it again, but I'm glad I did. I'll just put it that way. I'll also say that I've already forgotten how the movie ended, and I just watched it two days ago. So, again, plot is not important here.
Michelle and I actually made it out of the house for the second Saturday in a row. We went to the Parlor for We Are The Asteroid (missing Sabbath Crow....waaah!), saw a play at Ground Floor Theater and then went to see The Beaumonts at DaveFest at Kick Butt Coffee. Busy night for us! Other than a weird interaction with a very unsavory door person at Kick Butt Coffee, all was a lot of fun.
I suppose I should write about this weird interaction, just to get it off my chest. It turned out Kick Butt was crazy busy when we got there, and that was great to see. Dave Prewitt has long deserved this sort of respect. Michelle and I walked into Kick Butt. I didn't see anyone checking any IDs, anything like that (I hadn't been there in a while and couldn't remember what their protocol was). After walking in, we walked by a table which two women were sitting at (neither of us saw them when we first walked in). One of the women looked up at me with a really shitty look and said something I didn't understand. I bent down, and she said something about the show taking donations. I said okay and then asked what folks had been giving in general (just to get an idea). This woman then actually yelled at me "well, first I need to put an X on your fuckin' hand!!" I looked at Michelle who gave me a "yes, she did that" return look. So, I extended my hand so she could put the X there; she did the same to Michelle. I reached in my wallet and gave some money to her, but I was pretty stunned. I realize after writing about it here, it all seems rather benign, but I was pretty steamed inside. I saw Mike Flannery talking to her later, so I suspect she works at Kick Butt. I have a feeling I'll be boycotting that place for a while. I did mention it to Dave when I saw him later, and he seemed concerned, but that was not the time for me to tell him about it. So, for now, yay, The Parlor! Yay, Ground Floor Theater! Fuck Kick Butt Coffee. And all hail Dave Prewitt!
Life goes on....
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