What are we reading?

Started by edison, September 21, 2003, 11:20:03 PM

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Reel

Oh, i didnt see the post above yours  :doh: haha. You were on point. Excused


...but the answer to your ? Belongs in another thread

jenkins

Quote from: Reelist on January 22, 2014, 01:56:09 PM
Oh, i didnt see the post above yours  :doh: haha. You were on point. Excused


...but the answer to your ? Belongs in another thread
two in a row, you're almost on fire

i think in the olden days tv was crazy and it never happened? not sure when it first happened. woody allen is an early example of a writer who began in tv. charlie kaufman began in tv. edgar wright did. i guess there's a potential list of people but, as reelist is pointing out, the timeframe is different because the golden age of tv is currently happening. the golden age tv people are working on tv. as a movie person, i'm excited to see if any conversions occur

that's what your book made me think about ©brad

i'm reading neuromancer

Reel


Neil

Quote from: ©brad on January 21, 2014, 10:52:55 PM


Read this earlier last year, mentioned it in the shit box, but anyhow, it's definitely worth a read folks.
it's not the wrench, it's the plumber.

jenkins


BB


jenkins

^yes very [<- i deleted another post where i said this to make this new post--]

sometimes books, movies, or music, a lot of art is sometimes really like a self-help event. experiencing art can be like taking a spiritual vitamin, i think

and new tab was so wonderful. so nourishing. so enjoyable. page-by-page i loved the hell out of it.  this quote is from page 3 or some other very beginning page, and it's an example of a quote i saved (there are many examples):


Sleepless

Am so far on track to read one book per month so far this year (just counting fiction/novels).


So far completed...

The Returned by Jason Mott (crap)

The Talented Mr. Ripley, Ripley Under Ground, and Ripley's Game by Patricia Highsmith (all great, although the first half of Game is lacking Ripley, and the second half gets quite outrageous even for Ripley)

The Fear Index by Robert Harris (haven't quite finished yet, but so far I'm ripping through it, a great/easy/engrossing read)


Next up...
For Whom The Bells Toll by Ernest Hemingway (read a load of Hemingway short stories early last year, followed by his first three novels in order. This is the next one and from everything I've heard is his best.)
He held on. The dolphin and all the rest of its pod turned and swam out to sea, and still he held on. This is it, he thought. Then he remembered that they were air-breathers too. It was going to be all right.

Drenk

I'm not reading it, but today I bought Ulysses at Shakespeare & Co. The first edition was published by S&Co in 1922 because WTF? is this book and OMG too dirty for the US. Sylvia Beach owned the place and was Joyce's friend. France did things! They published irish writers. Beckett kind of became a french writer, though. (And fucked Joyce's insane daughter.)

(Digression: some say that Joyce and Proust met each other once, but didn't talk to each other; Joyce complained about his eyesight and Proust about something else.)

They had a reproduction of the first edition. It looks nice.



I read it in french but it had no real taste (you can't really translate it, I guess).
Ascension.

Reel

Snapped a pic of the books on my desk to give y'all an idea of what I plan to read, I'm halfway through about 3 of these and the rest I've abandoned altogether

Frederico Fellini

¨How to quit drinking without AA¨

We fought against the day and we won... WE WON.

Cinema is something you do for a billion years... or not at all.

jenkins

there's a new coffee-table movie book. best of luck to the you this christmas

my favorite:



Lottery

Finished Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. I had first come across the book in Time Magazine many years ago but I soon forgot about it. I was writing something and I came across the book again during "research" and discovered some annoying similarities.  But yes, I finally read it and it was good. Slow to start and at times dull (and the style required some adjustment on my part) but it is a reasonably lengthy book and I was rather drawn into the world over the duration of the read. Some great characters, an interesting tale and (arguably) above all- a fantastically detailed and described world of magic and magical history (intertwined with real history too).




EDIT:

Apparently there is an incoming sequel and a TV show. The world present in the story definitely deserves more stories but not necessarily a true sequel.

jenkins

Poetry because a poetry book co-written with me is finished today. We chose July 4 'cause holiday. Also, remembering I've read so few poems in my life, today I read two that are favorites to me, as Kubrick and Scorsese can be favorites to people who have seen like 20 movies and begin considering what's going on in those movie things they been seeing. In summary I know what's going on in these poems and I need them in my life, happy July 4, which no matter where you live is the day my poetry book was finished.

Richard Brautigan:

QuoteDeath Is a Beautiful Car Parked Only
for Emmett

Death is a beautiful car parked only
to be stolen on a street lined with trees
whose branches are like the intestines
of an emerald.

You hotwire death, get in, and drive away
like a flag made from a thousand burning
funeral parlors.

You have stolen death because you're bored.
There's nothing good playing at the movies
in San Francisco.

You joyride around for a while listening
to the radio, and then abandon death walk
away, and leave death for the police
to find.

Frank O'Hara:

QuoteWHY I AM NOT A PAINTER

I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,

for instance, Mike Goldberg
is starting a painting. I drop in.
"Sit down and have a drink" he
says. I drink; we drink. I look
up. "You have SARDINES in it."
"Yes, it needed something there."
"Oh." I go and the days go by
and I drop in again. The painting
is going on, and I go, and the days
go by. I drop in. The painting is
finished. "Where's SARDINES?"
All that's left is just
letters. "It was too much," Mike says.

But me? One day I am thinking of
a color: orange. I write a line
about orange. Pretty soon it is
a whole page of words, not lines.
Then another page. There should be
so much more, not of orange, of
words, of how terrible orange is
and life. Days go by. It is even in
prose, I am a real poet. My poem
is finished and I haven't mentioned
orange yet. It's twelve poems, I call
it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery
I see Mike's painting, called SARDINES.

jenkins

to be Frank with you, and you're Jerry, so we're Frank and Jerry having a conversation and what could go wrong from there, most humorous writers sound like bullshit to me. they don't need to blame themselves, it's only that there's hundreds of years of artistic philosophies behind them and i'm not as impressed by their humor as i am by that, especially by 80% of what i most cherish being explored, investigated and defined in the early 20th century. what then is a writer to do? you win my heart if you can of course. and to me, this page for example is Jenny Lawson shredding a guitar solo, crushing it, and i get her in a crystal clear way. i vibe with her note-for-note, i think you might too, and i'm in fact a yankee myself (hey south, you know what's in your soil, slavery and the Bush family, and I'm looking forward to Harriet Tubman becoming a face of American currency, and i sure hope you can get Jefferson Davis out of your parks, let's realtalk about how Cormac McCarthy came to see the world in his way from living in the south, and ya'll got smoked by a Yankee how a Yankee do it, you fucks, bless ya) --