Gupter has died.

If you wanna see what it turned into…

www.zizekpress.com

…

…

“Here we are, that’s Agua Caliente. Yes, I have many friends here.”

• El Indio

…

…

There is no apple tree where they shot apples off the apple tree. There is no door where Indio surprised the colonel and shot the rifle out of his hand. There is no-…

There is a school where the Colonel opened the safe.

There are satellite dishes and cars.

There are children in adidas shirts.

…

…

“When the chimes end, pick up your gun. Try and shoot me, Colonel. Just try…”

-El Indio

…

…

There is still the stone circle. And a man nearby looking for his dog, who can tell you in flawless English that there is still a stone circle.

There are satellite dishes and cars.

There are children in fucking adidas shirts.

…

…

“Nobody’s seen you shoot. We don’t know how you’d be in an emergency.”

-El Indio

…

…

There’s a cowboy sign, outline and silhouette, pointing tourists into Agua Caliente. There’s a cafe-bar that serves coffee and tequila. There’s a thank you board for Sergio Leone.

There are no tourists.

…

…

INDIO: “They don’t like strangers here…”

GROGGI: “No. They don’t like anyone.”

…

…

To get here, you must either drive or take the bus. If driving, it’s not so hard. The bus?

The bus leaves you 4 or 5 kilometres from Agua Caliente. There’s no stop, only a slight indent in the highway. Surrounding this, desert. You walk for an hour and you’ll get there.

Cars will drive past every now and then, but you will have lots of time to think.

…

…

The Colonel looks down at his rifle. The chimes are almost done, and there’s no hope for him.

Indio smirks, reaching across for his gun.

Then Clint fucking Eastwood appears.

“Now we start…”

…

…

There’s a signboard with a shot of the final duel on it. There’s the Colonel on one side, and Indio on the other. If you study it for a few minutes, you can work out where they would’ve stood, forty-eight years ago.

You can walk into the stone circle and stand in the place of either one of them.

I choose Indio.

You can sit down on the same dirt he died on, forty-eight years earlier. Or if the fiction is stronger, one hundred and forty-eight years.

You can sit there a while, as long as you like.

You’ll want to grow roots, but you can’t.

The same circle, same dirt, same-…it’s not enough.

Dirt doesn’t mourn for bandits.

For anyone.

…

…

…

At some point you’ll get on your feet again. You’ll be thirsty.

There’s a shop near the rock where Indio died. You’ll go inside and see the woman behind the counter is probably old enough to have seen it happen. Now she’s gonna serve you bottled agua.

Agua from a factory fuck knows where.

But not here.

…

…

“It’s like a morgue. And look out, it can so easily become one.”

• El Indio

…

…

Indio the rapist. Indio the murderer. Indio the turncoat.

He had big plans. He would be rich. He had a gang, a horse, a gun.

He would’ve shot anyone, out of passion or out of scheme.

He used to hold the pocketwatch and play the chimes and smoke weed when the memory got too much.

He sat in the shack with Groggi…confined, nothing to do, flicking insects across the room.

He waited to be shot or for someone to shoot.

He died in the dirt.

…

…

And now?

You walk back to the highway, wishing you could stay longer, but with nothing else to do. You’ll go back home and watch the film and think about joining his gang, but mostly…mostly you’ll forget.

…

And the dirt…

The dirt doesn’t mourn a thing.

I’m probably a little late with the Scott Pilgrim notes, but no one saw it at the cinema anyway so I might get away with it. Green Hornet is right now, so we’re good.

Actually, I’ve just checked and Green Hornet has been on release for a few weeks now. Fuck. And I’ve just based most of issue 8 of the mag all around that fucking film, and already it’s dated.

And now I’m writing notes on it. Does it matter?

I wonder what Seth Rogen thinks about all this?

…

[INSERT:

Seth Rogen sits alone in a cafe, slimmer than usual, and writes [in his Cheshire Cat notepad];

…

‘Outrun the backlash’…impossible?

Gotta make a plan…iron-tight plan…

Option 1: Flay Pineapple?

Could work…if people think I’m already down then they might let me stand back up? But…don’t they

kick when you’re down?

I don’t know, I think they might kick.

Expansion – Flay Pineapple and that other one…Jody’s film…no one really saw it, so bring it back up

in interviews and make them think i’m really down…like, on my knees down…begging like Haim…

Won’t they still kick?

…

He puts the pen in his mouth and looks around to see if anyone’s recognised him. Everyone seems busy,

distracted. One couple are complaining about Ryan Reynolds, the woman saying he’s treading water,

the man saying he shouldn’t be in the water in the first place.

The pen goes back down.

…

The fuckers always kick.

Don’t they know I’m trying here…?

Fuck it, they think they’re smart, but I’m smarter…I’ll show them some fucking brains…some fucking

brainwork…

…

I GUESS THERE’S NO REAL WAY TO KNOW.

…

I’ll write out some thoughts anyway.

…

Points:

Reality of films – There is no reality to Scott Pilgrim. There is a little more to Hornet.

Funniness – Pilgrim has good lines, but no normal ones. There’s no balance. When you expect funny lines, then things build and build until it’s not funny anymore. Hornet has balance. Some obvious lines, but most aren’t.

Actors – Cera is repeating himself. Chou is patchy. Rogen is repeating himself, but funnier than Cera.

Fight scenes – Pilgrim fight scenes are tedious. So much is going on, so many lights and graphics, but it’s dull. Hornet has some kind of panicked reality to its fight scenes.

Pacing of comedy - Hornet has balance, Pilgrim doesn’t. When Pilgrim slows down it seems painfully slow. When Hornet slows down, it’s okay.

Direction – Wright only has one style. He has no maturity, like he’s scared to let any drama seep out, or that the audience will run away. He is the maker of his own problems. Gondry is a mix of Gondrian and normal. He gets out of the way most of the time, which is the best way to play a superhero film.

…

The Reality of the films

Scott Pilgrim has no reality. It moves too fast. Why? I think it’s because of the writing and the direction and maybe the actors too.

Is there any way to analyse this?

I can’t remember the film scene for scene but I think I’ve got enough to give it a shot.

The first 25 minutes – Scott introduces all his friends and dates Knives Chau and meets Ramona Flowers and goes on a date with her and plays in his band and talks about Pacman…

This is too much too fast. You can’t do this. You can’t. Or you can, but you’re gonna have problems later when you’re trying to resolve things. Rule: You speed things up, you can’t slow them back down.

The fight scenes don’t mean anything

I guess there’s a concept or idea behind it, but it’s not exciting. I don’t wanna say it’s embarrassing, because the director tried something different and the writing’s good for what it is, but…

I wonder what Edgar Wright thought of it all, really…

…

[INSERT:

I need to edit this more. Faster. To the point. Where's Simon? Shit, no more coffee. Where's the-...nice tits. She's tall. Taller than me? I don't think so. Don't stand up, you'll find out. Shit, still no coffee. It's kinda dark in here. Can they turn up the lights? How do you say that? Turn up? Increase? Where's she going? That guy's with her. Fuck it. This table's too big. What kind of paper is this? Do people still write with pens? I really need to use my Mac. Mac and Me. It wasn't that bad. Better than Paul. Is it? Gotta see first cut. It would've been better with me. Man, aliens. I don't believe in them. If they're really there then-...shit, no coffee. Probably better for my body. The script. Focus. It's moving too fast. Can't slow down. Do we need to slow down? There's no assistants. No Thelma schoomacker for me. I don't need help. I have vision. Auteur. It makes sense. I always cut fast. Backlash. It'll happen. How to stop it? Less press? Turn into Pynchon. I'm no Pynchon. I do film. Directors get ass. I haven't fucked anyone for a while. Who's good? Mary? Can't, too tall. Ellen? Too small. Michael? I'm not gay. Am I? The script has a gay. Do I relate to him? Not sure. Page 57. What's happening here? Can't remember? Hang on. What's this film again? What's Michael called? Michael? Shit, no coffee. Where's Simon?

 ...

I've decided not to follow the order of my original points. I will skip ahead to...

...

Pacing of comedy and Direction

Wright only has one style. He has no maturity, like he's scared to let any drama seep out, or that the audience will run away. He is the maker of his own problems. Gondry is a mix of Gondrian and normal. He gets out of the way most of the time, which is the best way to play a superhero film.

I think I said that already.

Okay, let's analyse.

Throughout Pilgrim it is clear that every line has been created. Does that make sense? I think it does. Because...

If you are fed clever line after clever line after clever line...if no one ever stops and says something simple or real, like 'What are you doing?' or 'Hey, I don't know what to have for dinner?'...then there will be no drama. You will be surprised by nothing. And if the lines aren't clever enough then they will be embarrassing instead.

Scott Pilgrim is so tightly writtten. It's so sharp. Like the scene where Scott orders something on amazon then sits in front of the door and waits for it to be delivered. That's funny, I think.

There are a lot of good moments.

But you can't sustain that for a whole film, can you?

I think I wrote something about Gondry too.

Yup. I did. And the expansion...there are about four scenes in Green Hornet which you can tell have been directed by someone like him.

1- The scene in the garage where Rogen fucks the women on all the different cars.

2 – The scene where the seven green people are killed, and it goes split screen.

3 – The scene where...

Okay, maybe there are only two.

But this is good. Gondry doesn't force himself on the picture. He lets the actors and the script work it's way through.

And the thing about pacing...

The Green Hornet is much better paced than Scott Pilgrim. There is balance. Rogen says two funny things, then one serious thing. It's like a real conversation, only a little bit funnier.

[INSERT:

Hay un studio en Madrid, y dos personas esta hablando sobre 'The Green Hornet.'

Esta el scripto:

UNO PERSONA: No esta funny.

DOS PERSONA: Esta funny

PRESENTO: Pienso que Rogen esta muy cansado...muy muy cansado...

UNO PERSONA: No esta funny.

DOS PERSONA: Esta funny.

PRESENTO: Esta muy cansado. Hay una backlasho!

Una persona toca una sip de agua.

UNA PERSONA: No esta funny.

DOS PERSONA: Esta funny.

UNA PERSONA: No.

DOS PERSONA: Si.

PRESENTO: Queremos una backlasho, no?

 ...

...

I'm lost...where were we?

...

FIGHT SCENES!

Scott Pilgrim has tedious fight scenes. Example:

'Jason Schwartzman attacks Scott Pilgrim and they go through the moves they were told to go through with no kind of realistic damage or excitement. It's almost worse than the Star Wars Prequels.'

The only salvation is that some of the fights end in different ways. But in general, they're still tedious.

The Green Hornet has funny fight scenes. Example:

Rogen tries to beat up Kato. He gets thrown around the place and his best attack is using the mini football table on Kato's face.

See, this is in character. Rogen can't fight, and his moves are all over the place. Kato isn't superhuman, and does take a few hits.

I like the Hornet fight scenes more.

But I'd be dishonest if I didn't say they weren't realistic. They're not. Especially the end scene, with the half car. That's a bit dumb. But mostly they're funny.

Is there anything left to say?

...

STARS

Both Michael Cera and Seth Rogen are repeating characters.

But only one of them is still funny. Because Rogen has a character that is in some small way realistic and based on flaw. Or flaws.

Michael Cera is just awkward. He delivers his lines amazingly because he's been delivering the same lines for the last seventy years. Some are funny, most aren't.

I wonder what Seth Rogen thinks of his own repetition...

[INSERT:

Conversation overheard between Seth Rogen [movi-star] and his writing partner:

“They don’t rate me, man.”

“I’m sure it’s not that.”

“I can see it in their eyes. They don’t rate me.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Why don’t they rate me?”

“They do.”

“Maybe it was Pineapple?”

“Pineapple was a great film.”

“They don’t think I’m funny.”

“Ridiculous.”

“They think I’m fat.”

“You’re not-…”

“Yeah, too fat to play a superhero. Too fat to play Green…whatever his name is.”

“Hornet.”

“I’m not fat.”

“I know, man.”

“But they think I am.”

“There’s no evidence to-…”

“They think I’m dishing out the same shit…”

“The same shit?”

“Every film, same shit…”

“Not every film is-…”

“But there are changes, man. Subtle, but there are changes.”

“Yes, changes…”

“I don’t repeat myself.”

“No one really said you did.”

“I would never repeat myself.”

“I know…”

“I’d be the first to know it too, man. Cos I self-censor, I self regulate myself.”

“And that kind of self-awareness is precious, especially in this-…”

“Fuck it.”

“Yup.”

“I’m gonna last forever.”

“Eternal you.”

“I ain’t never gonna die.”

“Never.”

…

What about Jay Chou?

His English is bad. If he’s gonna use colloquialisms then he should be able to say them convincingly.

But at last, an Asian man in Hollywood is given some kind of humanness…he can fight, sure, but he’s also got a sexual interest in Cameron Diaz. Even if he fails to get her, it doesn’t matter because Rogen fails too. They’re both as immature as each other.

The bad guy [Christoph Waltz]?

Divisive. I guess he’s having some kind of mental breakdown for most of the film. And thinking about it, it’s well set up. Example:

The first scene, where James Franco calls him old and tired and obsolete, he says that, hey, I’ve been working hard for twenty-five years and now I’m the Lord of all crime in LA.

The key is he’s been working hard. But now he is old, and people aren’t scared of him, even though he’s a killer.

His mental collapse isn’t really funny until the final chase scene.

“I’m un-gasable!” He shouts, wearing his new outfit [a gas mask and blood red jacket]

Cameron Diaz?

It’s pointless to have her in the role, but there’s a great bit where Rogen calls her old. She’s got a sense of humour at least.

Tom Wilkinson?

He gets stung by a bee. But not really. Reads his lines okay. Hasn’t aged in ten years.

You can’t really do much in two scenes, I guess.

…

And if we switch to Scott Pilgrim…

…

Chris Evans [ex-boyfriend no. 2]?

He has the best character out of all the exes. A movie star. Shame he’s second on the list, as he’s the toughest, and he bows out in a bizarre way. I still don’t really understand how he dies.

Brandon Routh [Ex no.3]?

Man, he really needed this role. Does some good delivery with the “chicken’s vegan, right?” line.

Mary Elizabeth Winstead?

Was shite in Death Proof and Die Hard 4. Very good in this. How much was from her, and how much was pulled out of her by Wright?

Note of caution: She’s aging quite badly. In five years she might look like Dawn French.

Kieran Culkin?

Flustered by nothing. Confident and actively gay.

Jason Scwarzman [final ex]?

A midget. Official stats put him at 5′ 4”, so how the fuck did they get him up to Cera’s eyebrows?

Un-threatening. Tedious. Awful “Do you know how long it took me to get contact details for all the exes? Two hours. Two hours!” line.

Needs to put a sack over Wes Anderson’s head and pull Rushmore 2 out of him asap.

Lesbian ex?

Fuck ugly. Boring. Worst ex of the bunch.

…

Summary:

Green Hornet very good. Scott Pilgrim watchable.

“The ideal state of the critic, for Barthelme, is confusion…”

Donald Barthelme is dead, but not spent.

We’ll begin with the first tip and work our way workman-like to the last:

1] ‘No two sentences should be alike.’

A decent point. At its peak, we get a story like that one he did with King Kong. [He [KK] climbed through a window into a cocktail party of academics] Or his reworking of Snow White. If you haven’t read it, Snow White is a slut, living and sleeping with the dwarfs in a New York tenement or building. [Tenement – definition?] The Prince spies on her from a bunker underground. And the wicked witch goes through the phone book and tells strangers how easy it is to get their numbers.

But actually…more than two sentences in this are alike…not the exact same sentence, but similar…

…

A correction to this: [If Barthelme were alive again and could think the same way he thought before]…

no two ideas should be alike.

…

This makes more sense. No two pages of Snow White are twins.

…

…

Maybe there’s more to write about this one? More than two sentences…it’s a call to innovation, isn’t it? But how do we have this debate?

‘There’s no innovation anymore.’

‘No, I’m innovative.’

‘Wrong. It’s been done.’

‘Okay. There’s definitely no innovation anymore.’

…

And by doing everything possible in a narrative, Barthelme has killed innovation dead.

Right?

…

…

There was that book by Foer, the code of trees…or the tree of cods…

Was the innovative?

…

Was that innovative?

…

No. I used to read books like that when I was a kid. Fantasy books. Where you have to skip through the book, following a different order each time. And Cortazar did it too…Hopscotch. What has Foer done differently? He’s just cut up pages and spread the words out, and made it unreadable. I don’t like this innovation. And it’s not innovation anyway. It isn’t. He’s incapable of it. I don’t and can’t and won’t ever believe that someone like him holds the key to the next step of literature. And that’s not even bias.

…

It’s not bias, really. I don’t like him, but I can give him a fair shot.

…

…

I fucking hate it that he’s up there and other people aren’t. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve anything. Nothing. Doesn’t deserve…I should be up there, not him.

…

See, but the thing is… if I can spell the rage out then it doesn’t have a hold over me. I can still give him a fair shot. I can. Because I’m aware of my bias. I can talk to it, I can ignore it. Whichever.

But he’s still not good enough.

…

So, innovation. Back to it.

The book? It still has to be in book form, doesn’t it? Otherwise it gets redescribed…reclassified? Example, if you grafitti’d your story on a wall, it’s grafitti. It’s not literature.

…

I don’t know. Is that right?

…

You could cut out the wall and carry it around with you.

But you couldn’t copy it.

…

Write it on lots of walls?

…

…

What else?

I think I’m spending too long on this point. I’ll sum up. The forms have all been done. Postmod is the apocalypse of lit. What’s left?

…

The fourth dimension.

No shit. Really.

Things we cannot see, if they can find a way to make us see them, they can…they will…they’ll do something.

…

…

Let’s move on, and a bit faster too:

2] ‘Vocabulary is unimportant.’

I didn’t know what he meant by this for a long time. Words have to matter, don’t they?

Yeah, they do. But did Barthelme ever use a long word for the sake of it? Did it not always sound beautiful when he wrote something like ‘Hacquiety’ or ‘sendententiousness’?

…

But why did he only say three words here?

Why not ‘Vocabulary is unimportant because…’?

…

I’m not sure…he’s dead, and he wasn’t alive when I was around…or he was, but he died when I was fourteen, and I wasn’t very interesting when I was fourteen…I just watched Star Trek Deep Space Nine and wanked over that woman with the wrinkled nose…she was the security officer, I think…Nani Visitor?

…

Barthelme wouldn’t have spoken to me. Not at fourteen.

…

But I think…now that I’m smarter…that he only wrote three words because he didn’t want people to have his explanations. He didn’t like explaining things. Neither do I.

…

But why isn’t vocabulary important?

…

A word on its own has no feeling?

You seek a word, you’re not writing any kind of truth?

You sound like a twat?

…

I think what he really meant was, all writers sound the same.

…

They do, they all sound the fucking same. Go to Waterstones and pick up any book and-…

…

…

After the second tip, we have the third:

3] ‘Begin after the most interesting part of the scene has gone.’

I don’t get this one.

…

Is it like in Oceans Twelve, where Clooney and Pitt started the scene by finishing a joke? A joke that was never explained.

I think that’s what he means.

…

Does it mean that the aftermath is more important than the…math?

…

I remember what William Goldman said about film-writing…that you always had to enter the scene at the right point, just as the drama was starting up.

So, you don’t start with: ‘Hey, what did you do today?’

You start with: ‘I know what you did, bitch.’

…

But does Barthelme want us to start after this? When exactly?

…

Woman with black eye lies in bed. Man hovers above with boxing glove.

‘You deserved that. Now go to sleep.’

…

It’s different, I guess.

Maybe you could go further and start the scene after the characters have left it? You could…I don’t know…look at the environment and feel the effects of their drama…feel the residue…is that what Terence Malick does?

…

…

You know I don’t think Barthelme was right about everything.

…

They say he was a bit of a prick most of the time.

And kinda smug. Like he thought he was the pinnacle of…everything…all literature and…

…

He wrote at the same time as Cortazar. And Vonnegut. And the no ‘E’ guy…Perez?

And his stories aren’t even that good.

They’re weird, yeah, but they’re not funny.

He’s not a funny writer.

Or he’s snob funny, not genuine funny.

…

He’s not as good as they say he is.

…

I could do better than him…better than all of them…nay of those…any of those ones you’re talking about, I can out-write them…even the dead ones, if they came back I could write better words than them…or better stories…they’re all fucking academics, the whole lot of them, and academics can’t write shit, not when they’ve got to try and…when they’re trying to write something truthflu…truthful…

…

…

…

…

My head is fucking killing me, but I’m gonna do this. Fuck, it’s afternoon already. Why didn’t he wake me up?

Wait…

…

The mail just came. Yup. Two for me.

Okay. The estate agents don’t want to give me that money back. They’re saying I didn’t give them any, even though they know I did. No, I know I did. I definitely did.

Pricks.

…

What’s this?

Fucking New Yorker. I know what this is gonna say.

…

Yup, told you I knew. Hacks. Why do they-…

…

It’s not fucking cheap to send snail mail, New Yorker. You know that? The least you could do is…I mean, if you don’t like it, fine, but don’t tell me it’s…don’t give me one of those typical repsonses.

My stuff is not typical.

…

And who reads that piece of shit anyway? What do they know about…what do they know about innovation or anything? They’re the ones who are typical. They’re the ones who don’t…they never publish anything different or good or…

How is my stuff typical? In what way is it-…

…

What’s the fucking pointy? Fuck…point. What’s the fucking point? Point, point, point…

…

…

…

…

…

Here I am, typing again.

What’s it been? Two months? Three?

…

Three months. I just counted. Three months since I picked up a pen. Or my computer. I don’t really use a pen. Only for the really passionate or angry stuff, I guess. But the last few months, I don’t know…it’s been…

…

Forget it. There’s no point turning this into a diary. Let’s just get back to Barthelme. He knows how to write. I don’t. He does. Listen to him, not me. Just the stuff in italics, follow that.

Is italics important enough? Important looking enough?

Maybe I should put it in bold? Or capitals? A bigger text size at least…

…

I’m losing my way.

Barthelme, give me a sign. Did you go through all this shit too? When did you make it? Before thirty? I bet you did. I can’t be fucked looking it up, but I bet you did. You never lost your way, did you? You were an academic. You got money for your first fucking words. Always a genius, always a known genius. You could pick up a magazine or a book review and the word would be used about you. Never had to use it on yourself. Did you?

Man…

…

…

4] ‘Don’t copycat’

It’s true.

Don’t copy anyone else.

You’ll probably be doing it anyway.

…

I copy people all the time. And I know I do it. What does this make my work? Pathetic. Or just ordinary. Let’s think…

…

I copied Daisy Anne Gree. I copied Larry Harrison. I copied…who else? I copied Barthelme. I copied Vonnegut. I copied Orwell. I’m copying Nabokov as we speak…as I type…

…

I saw Marc Horne use the word ‘coalface’ in one of his stories, and I stole that too.

…

It’s not so bad.

People copy me too. And the Nabokov thing, he never did it like this. I mean, Pale Fire, yeah…but I only took the very basicest concept of it. The idea at the root of it all.

It’s not total theft.

…

But I read somewhere that it’s…something like, it’s not wise to overload your stories with references to other works. It may be gratifying for the reader at first, but it soon wears thin, and most of all, it tries to put a disguise over a lack of the author’s own ideas.

Is that true?

And it said, a novel like Gatsby never used references. And that’s why it’s so great.

…

…

Ha, I also copied one of those scenes where the main character is a writer and he goes to a bookshop or a library and he looks for where his future book will be on the shelf.

I got that from John Fante.

…

I wonder if he got it from anyone?

And why did I repeat it?

…

So many questions for someone else who’s dead. And not only dead, but blind too. He lost his eyes a few years before he went, poor guy.

…

Okay, I think we’re nearly done.

…

No, still two more left. I’ll try and be quick:

5] ‘Using a confident narrator is caveman’

…

Huh?

Barthelme doesn’t make mistakes. I guess he meant to use ‘caveman’ as an adjective.

…

Actually, that’s weird, as I read somewhere today, in one of the papers, I think…someone said that another guy and his sexist views were dinosaur.

Did they copy Barthelme?

…

I don’t know. Anyway, the sentiment of the line…

If you have a confident narrator, you will have a bored reader. That has to be what Barthelme is saying…was saying…

Or maybe not a bored reader, but…you won’t let anything slip. Won’t reveal anything.

…

American writers use confident narrators. They use them a lot. They write pretty sentences and decent word combinations and all that, but why does it have to be so confident?

Where’s the reality to any of it?

…

I’m gonna make a guess…or assumption…

A theory:

‘Confident people have pulled such a well-constructed mask over themselves that they cease to be of any interest.’

Psychological interest, I mean.

How’s that?

…

I think it holds up pretty good.

Pretty well.

And as the most confident narrators are done by American writers that means that any writer who’s American or who copies American is already worthless.

That’s gotta be most people.

…

…

I’m feeling pretty good about things now. Not sure why.

Okay, Barthelme. Last one:

And I’m setting myself an eight minute limit to write a response to this one:

6] ‘Don’t just drop your life on the page, be creative.’

…

Yes, good.

I dropped my life on the page before. But…

But if you write it into some kind of narrative, even if it’s a blank-written narrative, does that mean you’re being creative? Even if there’s no real story…?

…

I have six minutes to think this out.

Fuck.

…

I don’t know, man.

If you put some kind of order into things then…if you’re making sentences and choosing what of your life to put on the page then…

That’s being creative, I think.

…

But it’s not very, very creative, is it?

…

Do we have to be miserable to be creative?

I don’t know if that links very well with what I just wrote above, but…

No, it links okay.

…

Do you have to be more miserable in your life to…to what? I don’t know, to open up your head more? To get your imagination opened up…fuck, I know I should be able to explain this better…

…

Two more minutes.

…

…

Time’s up.

…

I just stared at the screen for those last two minutes.

But I just wanna add something more…

I think you do have to be miserable to write something good.

And…I just thought of one other thing…it’s not just if you’re miserable…anyone can be miserable and still write a piece of shit…but if you’re miserable and…

What was it?

…

Fuck, it’s gone.

…

Okay, summation.

Barthelme’s dead.

He fucked literature every possible way it could be fucked.

You’re on your own.

Aronofsky, tall-ish, rake-ish, ‘don’t call me intellectual, I’m just a regular guy’-ish, walks into the room with a scowl on his face.

Gupter Puncher, tramp-ish, offers him part of the couch.

ARONOFSKY: What is this place? A hostel?

GUPTER PUNCHER: Yes. [Pause] I thought it would be different.

On a nearby couch, some Australian guy: ‘it’s money, yeah, but I ain’t cleaning no toilets, mate.’

ARONOFSKY: You brought me to a hostel?

GUPTER PUNCHER: Sorry…that guy, he’ll probably leave in a minute. It’ll be better then.

ARONOFSKY: A hostel?

GUPTER PUNCHER: It’s not that bad. [He points to a curtain at the back of the room] There’s a cinema room over there. I think they’ve got…yeah, you can hear it. [He listens to the movie playing behind the curtain]. I think it’s Euro trip.

Aronofsky glares at him.

ARONOFSKY: Just…ask your questions.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Ok, err…questions…

The Australian guy’s friend, from the nearby couch: ‘Jeez, you were gone, mate…you were trashed…yeah, no, no, no…I come in, mate…I come in and you’re pissing in the microwave. No shit, in the fucking microwave.’

ARONOFSKY: You’ve got five minutes.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Five minutes? Err, okay…right, question one. Black Swan, your latest film-…

ARONOFSKY: No, not that one.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Sorry?

ARONOFSKY: Not that one, not Black Swan.

GUPTER PUNCHER: But it’s your-…

ARONOFSKY: Really, I’ve talked too much, too many times. There are no more anecdotes…no more…nothing to add. No, I can’t…I won’t…

GUPTER PUNCHER: Not even-…

ARONOFSKY: No.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Even if I ask you something different?

ARONOFSKY: I shall not answer.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Hmm, okay. [Pause] Let’s try…

ARONOFSKY: Two minutes. 

GUPTER PUNCHER: Man, already? Shit…okay, okay…your next film…it’s rumoured you were circling a Robocop remake, but now they’re saying you’re attached to Wolverine 2…

ARONOFSKY: The Wolverine.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Huh?

ARONOFSKY: It’s The Wolverine. There’s no number. It’s not a sequel.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Oh.

ARONOFSKY: Yes.

GUPTER PUNCHER: So you’re definitely not doing Robocop then?

ARONOFSKY: No.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Was it a tough choice? I mean, Robocop’s a decent-…

ARONOFSKY: Robocop…Wolverine…who gives a fuck? They’re both metal.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Yeah, I guess they are.

The Australian guy stands up and stretches out. ‘This is fucking bullshit, man. I’m not doing this shit anymore, seriously…I’m gonna go on benefits or some shit like that…rape the system, dude…date-rape the system like a fucking immo…’

ARONOFSKY: Ok, I’m done.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Already? But we didn’t talk about Wolverine 2…

ARONOFSKY: No, I’m done. [Pause] Okay, it’s set in Japan, Jackman’s in it, he doesn’t know who he is. There’s fighting, emotion, all that shit. There you go, now we’re even.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Will Ryan Reynolds be in it?

ARONOFSKY: No. Why? Why would-…no, of course he’s not in it.

GUPTER PUNCHER: Will Robocop cameo?

ARONOFSKY: Are you shitting me? Robocop? [He gets his jacket] I don’t even know why I took this thing off. [He walks out then walks right back in] Where’s the exit to this fucking place?

The Australian guy comes over and puts an arm around Aronofsky, and says ‘chill out, man. We’re all in the same boat.’

ARONOFSKY: [Sean Penn face] What?

AUSTRALIAN: But I’ll tell you what, mate…I’ll tell you what…we’re not cleaning toilets. We’ll never have to clean toilets.

GUPTER PUNCHER: The exit’s straight ahead, man. First door you see.

Aronofsky unlatches the arm of the Oz guy and walks out, his scarf trailing behind him.

 END OF INTERVIEW

Gupter Puncher has returned from the desert highway of Los Albaricoques, and the snowy snow of Bolzano, and…LaCoruna…

…and somewhere along the way picked issue 8 of Gupter out of the dirt.

It will be in London, New York, and I don’t really know why, LA.

There will be:

Wahlberg on Wahlberg: Retrospective of Marky Mark’s films, including the one where he talks to a plant and pretends to know science.

John Cusack looking homeless

El Indio

Interview with a Hong Kong film director that no one outside of HK knows…

Review of Pirates 4

and The Adjustment Bureau

and Sucker Punch

and The Green Lantern

and Paul

and The Belgrade Phantom

and Confessions [a Japanese film]

and…

fuck i’m running out of computer battery…someone’s using the microwave in the hostel…gotta go.,..

Gupter Puncher is disappearing for a while.

…

Maybe a couple of months. I’m not sure.

…

I’m going to look for the castle in The Fearless Vampire Killers, the castle in the snow, and it may take some time.

…

It’s such a beautiful castle.

Or it was such a beautiful castle in 1966, when the film was done. I don’t know what it looks like now. I don’t even really know where it is.

I think it’s in the Dolomites.

If someone knows any different, let me know.

…

…

Gupter Puncher will return in print around January.

But not in Hong Kong.

In London and New York.

…

The new issue will be about film.

It will have:

Green Hornet stuff. [Interview with Seth Rogen and Jay Chou, set report with Michel Gondry]

A Mark Wahlberg Retrospective.

Tomomi.

An interview with HK film maker Dante Lam.

And reviews and previews of films coming next year from some French guy…the one who doesn’t like Ozon.

Yeah, he’ll be back.

…

…

There might be something about my book as well.

Charcoal.

…

It’s a bit of a whinge in places, but I think it’s decent.

Maybe some other people will think that too?

…

Ernie Hudson didn’t like it though.

‘I don’t like it and I don’t know why.’

That’s Winston from Ghostbusters.

…

But what the fuck does he know?

Nothing.

…

Did you see him on Las Vegas? Or that meteor thing?

…

What does he know, really?

…

…

Anyway, the book that Winston doesn’t like is out on November 1^st. Eight Cuts Gallery Press are selling it, so if you wanna buy one then go there.

Eight Cuts link.

It’s about 7 quid, I think.

…

While you’re there, you can look at the other book too.

The Dead Beat by Cody James.

That one’s also a bit of a whinge, but decent. And not as much of a whinge as mine.

…

In fact, once you’re over there, you’ll probably buy that one instead.

…

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.

…

…

So…if you get bored while Gupter Puncher’s gone then I guess you could go to the archives. There’s a lot of stuff that you might not have read before.

Including a couple of my diaries. Way back.

Though most people just think it’s satire.

Ha.

…

And if you’re really, really bored [which is what we are most of the time I guess] don’t watch Did you Hear about the Morgans? Or Date Night. They’re not so good.

…

…

I think…Date Night has no danger. That’s why it’s no good?

Steve Carrell has to make a joke about the sideways gun, instead of showing danger. And they develop too much power at the end when-…

…

…

Hold on to that anger…hold on and hold on until there’s no breath left in your-…

Date Night. Will And Grace. Ben H Winters. Sea monsters. Android Karenina. The Other Guys. Will Ferrell. Marky Mark. Ari Gold. Entourage. Who’s that guy? Fuzzy hair. Movie star. No charm. No grace. Hollywood. Deadwood. Olyphant. Ian McShane. Where’s his gun? Where’s his brain? Shakespeare. Different words. Sounds good. What’s he say? No one heard. Method One. Write a plot. Method Two. Craft some words. Method Three. Odd-ball. David Lynch. Jim Jarmusch. Czech Alice. Puppeteer. What’s his name? Method Four. My script. Any good? Yes, it is. Any Good? Piece of shit.

…

…

MY SCRIPT

…it wasn’t good, it wasn’t bad, and there wasn’t one there were seven of them, or eight of them, I can’t remember now, but four were good and four were bad, and three of the four that were good weren’t really that good, or not good enough, and one of them was Knifeman, and Knifeman’s not a name to call a film, not if you want it made, not if you want people to listen to you. But Knifeman, I liked it, and the people who didn’t like it, they didn’t know anything. They didn’t know what Knifeman was, what Knifeman really was, and they never could because they have no soul, they have no soul in there, and only someone with a soul can understand something like Knifeman.

…

…

Modernism. Tanizaki. Virginia Woolf. James Joyce. Ulysses. Other things. Seven thousand pages. Lost his keys. In his head. Boring head. Fucking Krist. Endo. Gunther Grass. Sontag. Suicide Kit. Amy Tan. Two-sided. Look at me. Chinese face. No soul writing. No truth writing. Classical. Detective fiction. Conan Doyle. Dr. Watson. Birdy Edwards. Fatalism. Never good. Always death. Fatalism.

…

…

The Valley of Fear

…a valley, a town. A mining colony. No city nearby. No help for miles. A Fraternity town. The handshake people. Only they’re criminals, and terrible criminals. They murder like it’s drinking milk. Like it’s 1350 France. Five hundred of them. And more on call. And they target others, and they kill others, and everyone is afraid. And if you speak out against them, they’ll kill you. If you go to the police they’ll kill you. The police are frustrated. The police are powerless. There are no successful trials. No hangings. And if you witness anything, they’ll kill you. If you play the hero, they’ll kill you. If you can fight, they’ll kill you. If you have superpowers, if you can do things like Jesus or Sylar, they’ll scheme and chatter and then they’ll kill you. You live in this town. You’re scared. You hate them. You’re not strong. You’re not brave. What do you do? You do nothing.

…

…

The Mummy Returns. Rachael Weisz. Ron Howard. Cinderella Man. Craig Bierko. The Long Kiss Goodnight. The fall from the helicopter. A happy death? Camus. The Outsider. A world of outsiders now. Not organised. Unorganised. Disorganised. Unmotivated. No climax. Anti-narrative. Beckett. Beckett again? Obsession. Pathological following of Samuel Beckett. Anti-anti- narrative. Nothing happens. I hate it? People hate it. I don’t hate it. Samuel Beckett. Sammy Beckett. Son of a Beckett. In a tramp’s head. In a station. Watching people. Thinking random thoughts. I hate it. I hate it. Thinking nothing thoughts when thoughts from any head are never nothing thoughts. The head is beautiful. Don’t you see this, Sammy Beckett? Hate. Hate. Hate. Calm down. Nothing’s changed. Progress. Moving on. Something odd. Barthelme. Barthes. Vonnegut. Bellow. Saul [fucking] Bellow. Middle class. Working class? Twat class. Class of twats. Thomas Mann. Malaparte. The Life of Pascal Duarte. Burroughs. Beat. Ginsberg. Beat. Cassady. Beat. Mitchell. Beat. Mitchell. Beat? He’s no beat. Pynchon. Beat. That’s his beat. Copycat. Nothing new. Nothing old. Japanese. Always Japanese. Mitchell San, Mitchell San, you’re not Japanese. In his head. In his head. Japanese. Japanese. Japanese. Gosh, I’m Japanese. Yes you are. Guardian. New York Times. 3AM. Yes, you are. Believe in us. You are great. Super great. And Japanese.

…

…

The Japanese VIPs.

…There’s Endo, and his Silence. His French fool. His privileged class. Scorcese wants a piece of his ass too, just like he wanted a piece of Edith Wharton’s. Bored, Marty?

…There’s M. Some pronounce it ‘Murakami’, without knowing that the ‘urakami’ is now silent. Wow, IQ84. Did you know ‘Q’ sounds like ‘nine’ in Japanese? M did. Does. Master of themetacratics!

…There’s the one who is still pronounced ‘Murakami’. He’s kept his name, because he’s not good enough to lose it. Ryu, that’s his first, and he’s a nut. He wrote ‘Audition.’ And ‘Almost something Blue’, about black people dominating Japanese people, and maybe about confusion too?

…There’s Banana, who writes about Kitchens.

…There’s-

…

…

Great Gatsby. Great Escape. Great Waldo Pepper…are there any more greats? Magnificent Ambersons. Billy Joel. Ha, Billy fucking Joel. Copycat. Nothing new. Nothing old. Modern day. 1990. 1991. 1992. 1993. 1994. Before this, postmodernism. And after this, postmodernism. Easton Ellis. Amis. McInerney. Auster. Takahashi. Author in the text. Text in the author. No more story. The story behind the story behind the story. Bomb the story. Kill the story. How many behinds can hide behind the story? Too late. What’s next? Easton Ellis. Amis. McInerney. Auster. Takahashi. Still writing. Still hoping. Brutalism. Ah, brutalism. Back to Beckett. Back to Bukowski. Back to the Future. George McFly. Biff Tannern. Smack his face. Knock him out. Demonise Biff of Tannern. Potential rapist. Potential killer. Potential house-maid. No change. No redemption. Biff of Tannern.

…

…

The Concretisation! of Biff Tannern.

…on a day, possibly a Tuesday, [we're not sure because it's on film, not in reality] Biff Tannern is led through a crowd of special effects that look kinda like people, but on closer inspection are just the same three people simulcratised, to a stage where the bald guy from He-man the movie and the principal from the very same film as Biff, pronounces to the crowd of fakery that Biff Tannern, of the one trilogy and nothing else, has been deemed beyond characterisation, and is therefore sentenced to concretisation effective within the few minutes it will take to mix the concrete. Biff, given the chance to comment, snarls at the crowd of fakery and says, “I may have only one dimension…but it’s a helluva dimension.”

And then it comes, the concrete, and Biff Tannern is forever a cunt.

…

…

Megaman. Megabox. Megalomania. Malaparte. Back again. Who was he? Don’t know. No one knows. Camus stole his clothes. Vela stole his face. Or was it Cela?Carlos Vela. Varlos Cela. Joe Hart. Jimmy Hill. Berbatov. Sidetracked. Turning left. Socialism. Communism. Stalinism. Put the fuckers in a ditch-ism. Shoot them in the face, with a rifle scribed with ‘ism [in pink lipstick]. Orwell. Animal Farm. Rebel, Rebel. Naughty pig. Dirty farmer. Sympathetic horse. Rise up. Pick up arms. Kropotkin. Radicalism. Marxism. Movement. Movement. Movement. Shared vision. Coup D’etat. In charge. New vision. Governmental. That’s my seat! Get a gun. Dig a hole. Ditch-ism. Back again. Some less friends. ‘I believe…’ In charge. Governmental. IN CHARGE. Fucking mental. Hands off. Single vision. [Get your fucking hands off my vision]. My vision. Not your vision. Love the people. Know the people. Help the people. Who are the people? Camus? Can you say? Don’t know. Plural noun? Not now. Collective noun. No more people. Only people. Kill persons. Keep the people. Cut off hands. Unchain links. Ungroup. Degroup? Don’t know. No more groups. My group. Join my group. Socialism. Socialism. The only ism. Socialist face. Psychopathic mind. No, nice mind. Nice mind. Control the kills. Not so bad. Long game. Fifty years. One hundred years. Think about it. Don’t talk back.

…

…

In one hundred years…

…we better hope to fucking God the robots have taken over.

…

…

Paris Hilton. Not so bad. Lindsey Lohan. Not so bad. Frank Drebin. Not so bad. Martin Short. Not so bad. Martin Freeman. Not so bad. Ugly Betty. Not so bad. So many things. Not so bad. Snobs in writing. Everywhere. Underground. Not so real. Blog collectives. Love each other. Reading books? Not so many. Future plan. Not so much. Future plan? Watch Supernatural.

…

…

Supernatural, Season Five, Episode 1 [summary]

Forgive me, I’m a bit behind. I heard season six has already started over in the States, but here in Hong Kong, where House is two seasons behind and shows no sign of catching up, we have just started season five. And how does it start? Pretty fast. There’s a light, I think it’s from Hell, and Sam and Dean say ‘oh shit’ and then they’re on an airplane, and they say ‘shit, we’re on an airplane’, but the light is still there coming up from the ground below, and then they’re gone, they’re in a hospital and…and Bobby the grouch [who is getting very very close to concretisation] is in a wheelchair and then the angel comes in…Castlevania?…Casillas?…and he tells them ‘we have to find God’ and Dean says something caustic and Sam nods like a plank and then we’re with another guy who is being hit on by Lucifer and told that he [Lucifer] wants to get inside his body and move it like a puppet, and the guy says ‘okay, man’, and by the end of the episode it looks like we’ve got ourselves a season. And what’s so bad about that?

…

…

Lee Rourke. Back Again. Brutalism. Ben Myers. Book of Fuck. Nothing new. Nothing old. Keep on trying. Brutalism. Brutalism. Brutalism. Times a hundred. On and on. What’s next? Add a ‘neo’. Brutalism, with a Neo-. Need a leader. Need a force. Need some weight. Point of it? Point Break. Pointilism. Dada. Dada. Dada. Dada. Get some pace. Lee Pace. Piemaker. Turkish film I can’t remember. Black Guy. What’s his name? Seen his face. Doing well. No Denzel. No, Denzel. Want more power. Power, power. Show no weak. Never weak.

…

…

The passion of Denzel…

“I’ll be Goddamned if I let Dean fucking Cain beat me in a fight!”

Precedents:

“I’ll be goddamned if I let that little stick Hawke beat me in a fight.”

“I’ll be Goddamned if I let that fucking farmer Crowe get even one of those grubby, little paws on me.”

“I’ll be Goddamned if I let Broderick get the better of me!”

“I’ll be Goddamned if I let Annette Bening beat me in a fight.”

…

…

What’s next? Don’t know. Lack of knowledge. Try hard. Die Hard. John McClane. Hans Gruber. Money. Money. Get a gun. Get a pen. Shoot something. Write something. Make it light. Make it dark. Make it funny. Make it hatey. Hate. Hate. Anger stays. Glad it does. Poetry lessens. Not a poem. Never a poem.

…

…

“An angry man is a happy man.” - Malcom X, 1961.

Quotes should always hold hands with other quotes, so:

“Never let the sun go down on a peaceful mind.” - Gandhi, drunk in a bar with Kiefer Sutherland, 1932.

Which means:

“If you’re feeling sleepy and things just seem too damn good in the world, then do something about it. Force an argument. Hit someone. Make trouble. Anything.” - Gandhi, same night, same bar, sitting on Kiefer’s shoulders with a broken bottle in hand.

…

These reviews are a little late.

…

When you’re a nothing magazine made on Microsoft Word and free and read by five people [three of them me], it takes time for the publishing people to send stuff to you.

…

…

I don’t know when ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ came out, but I’m pretty sure it’s not upcoming. And I’m pretty sure this review is-…

…

Actually I don’t really have much to write about it. Not my fault though…I think there were some pages missing.

…

There’s a picture of Hank Azaria on the front cover…huh?

They’ve made a movie already?

…

I don’t know. I guess they wouldn’t just randomly select Hank to pose on the-…

…

Fuck it, let’s get on with the review. But not really a review, more a question and answer session.

…

Q: What’s it all about?

A: Every Tuesday some guy [Hank?] gets patronised by some old guy [Morrie?]

…

Finished.

…

That review wasn’t actually written by me. It was written by Flannery Plath. Can’t think of much else to add to it.

…

Are old people wise?

…

…

MYTH

OLD PEOPLE ARE WISE

TRUTH

OLD PEOPLE ARE RACIST

ANGRY

BITTER

INTOLERANT

DESTRUCTIVE

INSOLENT

…

…

…

Oh, look, I’ve just found one of the missing pages.

For ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’, I mean.

Let’s see what it says:

…

Hank Azaria walked into the room and saw the old man drooling in the corner, wearing nothing but pants and an Oswald Mosley t-shirt.

“It’s Tuesday, Morrie!”

“Shut up and sit down.”

Hank bowed and sat down.

“Look at this, boy…” Morrie jabbed at the TV screen, which was showing the old Kurosawa classic ‘Ran’. “Fucking Japs killing and making trouble again. Goddamnit.”

“Ah, I’ve seen this before. It’s Kurosawa, right?”

“What do you know? Huh?”

“Sorry, Morrie. I was just saying that-…”

“What? What’s that?”

“I said…I know this film. I’ve seen it bef-…”

“I said shut up. Just shut up and listen to me for a minute.”

“Okay, Morrie.”

“These Japs…Goddamnit, let me tell you about the Japs, boy. Fucking nasty pieces of work they are. Real nasty. Saw it myself, just a few years back. Savages…them killing babies, them killing mothers, them killing…Goddamnit, them killing everything that could be killed.”

“But…Morrie, wasn’t that a long time ago? Like, fifty or-…”

“You know nothing! Nothing, you hear me. Nothing about nothing.” Morrie jabbed a finger Hank’s way. A small, pathetic little finger. “Japs are Japs and they’ll always be Japs. You think they’re any different nowadays? Bullshit, different now…they’re still there…them killing babies, them killing mothers…hey, you listening to me, shit head? Open up your fucking ears…them killing everything they can…everything you can kill.”

“Err…Morrie, I went to Tokyo last year and-…”

“Shut up and sit down!”

“I am sitting do-…”

“You went to Tokyo last year, huh? Well, fuck you, I went there…I’ve been there too, boy. And let me tell you something…let me tell you…they’re doing it, they’re still doing it, but…but they hide it. They hide it, you see? They hide the killing and the babies and….and them killing the mothers and everything, they hide it. They won’t be showing you any of that, but you can bet your last dollar they’re doing it.”

Hank sat still, unsure what to say. It wasn’t like this last Tuesday.

“Your last fucking dollar, boy.”

…

…

Wow, what a page.

…

I wonder if I should add it to my review?

I guess it’s not really fair. I mean, it wasn’t actually in the book they sent me. It was kind of tucked away in the side of the package.

Maybe they put it there by accident?

…

…

…

Wait, what’s this?

The post just came [again] and it’s another book.

I’ve never heard of this one. ‘The Canal’ by some guy called Lee Rourke.

…

Okay, I’ve just read the blurb on the back and it says…’Lee Rourke is a brutalist.’

Brutalist?

That doesn’t sound very nice.

…

Does it mean he’s gonna hurt people? Kill them?

…

Can you kill a canal?

…

No, I’m judging him. I’m judging Lee Rourke the brutalist without reading a word of his book. I should go do that now and then come back and tell you about it.

…

…

Okay, I’m done. And I checked up on Brutalism too. Aparently, it’s a literary movement…a literary movement founded by some guys in England I’ve never heard of.

What is Brutalism?

‘We want to be very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very honest.’ They say. The writers from England, I mean.

Sounds nice.

Oh, and one of their books is called ‘The Book of Fuck.’

Maybe I should read that too?

…

…

…

Okay, I’ve now read both ‘The Canal’ by brutalist Lee Rourke and ‘The Book of Fuck’ by…I can’t remember his name.

…

Never mind, lets’ review.

First up, ‘The Canal’ by brutalist Lee Rourke.

Q: What’s it all about?

A: A guy skips work and goes to sit by a canal to look at stuff. The eponymous Canal does nothing.

Q: Any good?

A: The Canal does nothing.

…

Strike one for brutalism.

…

But…I guess some books do this kind of thing…have characters looking at stuff and not doing anything…like Samuel Beckett…

…

I’m being too hard on this, maybe?

Give it a couple of days, see if I feel any different…

…

…

Okay, it’s been a couple of minutes and, honestly [brutalistically?], I don’t feel any different.

…

…

THINGS THAT PEOPLE ARE TOO SCARED TO SAY OUT LOUD

SAMUEL BECKETT IS SHITE

…

…

…

I feel kind of bad for treating the brutalist Lee Rourke this way.

I mean, he’s trying his best.

…

…

Excerpt from ‘The Canal’:

‘He sat down on the bench and became still. He looked down and considered what it was he was sitting on. A Bench. Yes, a bench. More than a bench? No, simply, realistically, objectively, unemotionally, a bench. What is the life of a bench, he wondered? But there was no answer to his questioning of the thing he sat on, the thing he called, simply, playfully, pragmatically, a bench. He looked up and around. My God, a Canal. Yes, a canal. More than a canal? No, no, no, no, no. It was simply, triumphantly, dirtily, transcendentally, a bench. No, a canal. Not a bench. The bench was beneath him, being a bench, simply, convincingly. The canal on the other hand was before him, being a canal. Canal shaped. Canal themed. C-a-n-a-l. Oh Canal, what can I say of thou? You are dirty and watery and there is dirt inside you, and on top of the dirt there is water, but not ordinary water, dirty water. Water with dirt. Water becoming dirt. Dirt terrorizing water. Dirt uniting with water and becoming ‘watirt’. Is it the truth? Oh, dirt, water, canal…what is it that you are?’

That was the first paragraph.

…

The second one talks about the path. The third goes back to the bench.

I didn’t get much further.

…

Fuck it, let’s try the other one. The Book of Fuck:

Q: What’s it all about?

A: A guy likes to fuck. He doesn’t write a book about it, he is the book.

Q: Why, oh, why does he like to fuck?

A: The Power!

Q: Is Neil LaBute real?

A: No, he has been erased from history to make way for the book of fuck.

Q: Is it an important book?

A: The power!!

Note: I have not read the Book of Fuck. But this review is still valid.

…

Okay, that’s all the books I have this week.

I feel like we’ve covered quite a lot though. We’ve done popular stuff, and literary stuff. And that’s enough to keep us all going, I think.

…

Shame about brutalism though. It did sound nice.