For Alfred Hitchcock, nothing is too ridiculous or far-fetched so long as the audience is kept rolling along with the connivance and trickery, excited to see where they're going. Margaret concedes that she may sometimes pose a danger to others when she goes without her psychiatric medications. Margaret should take the medication even if not taking the medication might make for a more interesting story. The Babylonian Empire was taken over and resolutely thumped by the Persian Empire in 539BCE. Angolans have a strong ethnic and national identity that is nevertheless striated by Portuguese influences. Legendary cowboy actor John Wayne smoked between five and seven packs of cigarettes per day, and yet he forbade his own sons from smoking. Tippi Hedren, with whom Alfred Hitchcock was pathologically obsessed, was tortured during the production of The Birds, spending five days with live birds thrown at her and attached to her person with elastic bands. Hedren additionally accuses Hitchcock of making aggressive advances toward her in the back of a limousine, which I for one am prepared to accept as more than probable. Not only do her wit, verve, and improvisational skills save her own ass, Scheherazade manages also to restore the wayward heart of the King. When the get-up-and-go outruns the buckle-down-and-do, what's there ultimately to do except fervently hump your barbed wire Australian canoe after having called in sick with the flu? Jasper used to pay $5.00 a month rent on a cold water Brooklyn flat and was boffing Sally Kirkland who was doing a little innocent Off-Broadway nudity at the time and was therefore all the town was talking about, as it were. The Celtic goddess Abnoba reins over Greater Germany's mythological black forest. The Danube owes its name to a Celtic goddess of tempestuous maternity. The supreme German proto-Romantic, Friedrich Hölderlin: "Isn't everything alive already in your blood?" I tucked my beloved in between discreet sheets of museum-grade glass. My lover is a pressed flower and I the harbinger owl. In fighting every single person every step of the way, Victor Hugo, transformed from royalist to raging Republican, became a national hero and figure of the French Republic. When a camera slowly tracks across a group of people in Hitchcock you start to wonder how many sick and perverted malefactors are secretly concealed by the crowd in all its superficial innocuousness. My favourite snacks are raspberries and mango. I like my steak nice and pink. Shakespeare's plays were staged during a time when there were still public executions, and vendors sold snack foods at both the plays and the executions. Jasper loves the part in The Strawberry Blonde where James Cagney goes: "that's the kind of a hairpin I am!" Gladys says her elderly mother believes the main reason so many renegade Nazis went to Argentina was because they believed the gates of hell to be concealed somewhere remote in the South American jungle. My dentist tells me in a low tone that there is something mysterious about the earth's core. Why does it seem like he thinks we're conspiring? We ain't doing no such thing. The drill rattles around my head like shockwaves of metallic applause. As a moody teenager, there were days Arlene could not bring herself to eat anything more substantial than chips and salsa or a couple slices of processed cheese. Don't press the the red button on the Abundance box. If everyone had to do better or die what do you think the numbers might look like? Stephen Geoffreys, the cute and dorky Evil Ed in mainstream 1985 horror flick Fright Night, went on immediately from there to become a star of hardcore gay porn. Harold says the best way to edit is to slowly transcribe it all over again, perhaps moving it in so doing from one place to another. I was getting loud and mouthy with my mouth full of egg and Canadian bacon across from Archer at the Denny's on Macleod and Archer raised his hand and quoted his infernal Socrates at me: "The best, when corrupted, become the worst." Archer isn't wrong if not exactly right and I plan to get out of my own way sometime approximately this very night. For me it's out of the frying pan and into the fire...except for the fact that I'm also a greasy, shimmering turd. As a teenager I learned how to drive standard transmission from a dream. The filmmaker Robert Bresson, who I have at times had the chutzpah to call the greatest artist of all time, could evidently be a real creep in his own right and would not appear to have treated Anne Wiazemski all that much better than Hitchcock did Tippi Hedren, though it is true that he did not fasten live birds to anybody. I do not have what it takes to be a film director because my stress-management is unusually poor. All your movie needs is a girl and a gun and some stupidly-grinning mark in a ten-gallon hat to bankroll the fiasco. Polish-Jewish writer and visual artist Bruno Schulz, migrant of somnolence, was shot dead in the streets by an S.S. officer who knew Schulz personally and was motivated at least in part by jealousy. For absence of miracles we go on producing our crude and clumsy monstrosities of division.
No comments:
Post a Comment