Twist Street

Sam Westing, Barney Northrup, Sandy McSouthers, Julian R. Eastman, & Me

10 notes

Pro-tip: if the internet ever yells about what a bad person you are— and it probably will at some point in some kind of Andy Warhol “in the future, the internet will hate us all for 15 minutes" kind of way… But if that happens?  Just wait, quietly, quiet as a mouse, and then check in every so often with those exact same people, with what they’re talking about when the topic has changed and they’re no longer performing who they think they are for their little twitter friends.  Eventually, whatever they were saying, they’ll end up saying the exact opposite of that when it’s more popular to do so.  Drink that in, and then lean back in your chair and whisper “I won.”  Never tell anyone that you won— just go to the grave nestled in a warm blanket of super-smug satisfaction.  Also, don’t go to a grave— get cremated— that’s a no-brainer.  And maybe thinking about living in a teepee because it’s better in a lot of ways.  Also: learn to make ice sculptures like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day— more people should know how to do that— boy, that’d be a neat skill to have.  
(This isn’t about that dumb noise the other day; this is about an older thing because I don’t let things go like a healthy person does, but oh god, the satisfaction— it’s so *pure*— the purity of it— this is what making out with Gidget must have been like.  Harlan Ellison used to talk about how he wanted to date Sally Field back in the day because he wanted “to fuck the Flying Nun”— I get that.  I get that on many different levels).  

Pro-tip: if the internet ever yells about what a bad person you are— and it probably will at some point in some kind of Andy Warhol “in the future, the internet will hate us all for 15 minutes" kind of way… But if that happens?  Just wait, quietly, quiet as a mouse, and then check in every so often with those exact same people, with what they’re talking about when the topic has changed and they’re no longer performing who they think they are for their little twitter friends.  Eventually, whatever they were saying, they’ll end up saying the exact opposite of that when it’s more popular to do so.  Drink that in, and then lean back in your chair and whisper “I won.”  Never tell anyone that you won— just go to the grave nestled in a warm blanket of super-smug satisfaction.  Also, don’t go to a grave— get cremated— that’s a no-brainer.  And maybe thinking about living in a teepee because it’s better in a lot of ways.  Also: learn to make ice sculptures like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day— more people should know how to do that— boy, that’d be a neat skill to have.  

(This isn’t about that dumb noise the other day; this is about an older thing because I don’t let things go like a healthy person does, but oh god, the satisfaction— it’s so *pure*— the purity of it— this is what making out with Gidget must have been like.  Harlan Ellison used to talk about how he wanted to date Sally Field back in the day because he wanted “to fuck the Flying Nun”— I get that.  I get that on many different levels).  

Filed under I am Pointless!

11 notes

Watched the new Whit Stillman show on Amazon, the Cosmopolitans.  I really like that Whit Stillman.  (For me, I’d rank ‘em Barcelona, Damsels in Distress, Last Days of Disco, and then Metropolitan).  It’s really set in his little universe, Chloe Sevigny and all.  I wish he’d make more stuff— I know it’s all Rich White People Stuff— Stillman makes Lena Dunham seem like Iceberg Slim— but I just really enjoy all that stuff. Characters who think they’re incredibly smart saying incredibly dumb things as though they were brilliant, stories about characters trying to find their social footing in new social environments, characters who pretend to be high-minded who really just want to dance and screw— he does this stuff so well, and it’s all stuff that doesn’t really come up a lot with other folks, really.  Plus, I’d just really love to see him and Wes Anderson mud-wrestle or in some kind of cage match, some kind of ECW type situation.

Watched the new Whit Stillman show on Amazon, the Cosmopolitans.  I really like that Whit Stillman.  (For me, I’d rank ‘em Barcelona, Damsels in Distress, Last Days of Disco, and then Metropolitan).  It’s really set in his little universe, Chloe Sevigny and all.  I wish he’d make more stuff— I know it’s all Rich White People Stuff— Stillman makes Lena Dunham seem like Iceberg Slim— but I just really enjoy all that stuff. Characters who think they’re incredibly smart saying incredibly dumb things as though they were brilliant, stories about characters trying to find their social footing in new social environments, characters who pretend to be high-minded who really just want to dance and screw— he does this stuff so well, and it’s all stuff that doesn’t really come up a lot with other folks, really.  Plus, I’d just really love to see him and Wes Anderson mud-wrestle or in some kind of cage match, some kind of ECW type situation.

Filed under All I Ever Write About on this blog is Television...

18 notes

A St. Ann police lieutenant resigned Thursday after he pointed an assault rifle at protesters and cursed at them, officials said. Lt. Ray Albers had worked for the department for 20 years. Albers resigned after the city’s board of police commissioners met and recommended to the board of aldermen that he be fired or resign.
Well, that’s one, at least.  The cop who said protestors should be “put down like rabid dogs” also got fired.  

Filed under Civilization is Doomed.

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Jack Kirby from 1941’s Captain America #7.  

Page thirteen  above looks like a strong Kirby action layout, with its plethora of leaping and hyper-extended figures throughout the area. The slugfests in panels five through seven are especially enjoyable. There is a strong compositional connection between Bucky’s uppercut in panel five and Cap’s shield slam in panel six, creating the circular movement that takes us around the two separate groups of figures. The tie up of feet at the border of the two panels brings the eye to the pile-up in panel seven.

Jack Kirby from 1941’s Captain America #7.  

Page thirteen  above looks like a strong Kirby action layout, with its plethora of leaping and hyper-extended figures throughout the area. The slugfests in panels five through seven are especially enjoyable. There is a strong compositional connection between Bucky’s uppercut in panel five and Cap’s shield slam in panel six, creating the circular movement that takes us around the two separate groups of figures. The tie up of feet at the border of the two panels brings the eye to the pile-up in panel seven.

Filed under Worst Hobby or Worstest Hobby?

9 notes

Stuntman splashes pencilled and inked by Jack Kirby, c/o the Kirby Museum.  It’s always interesting with Kirby that as much as his surface style changed over the course of his career, how early he had that facility with big splash-y images— those razzle-dazzle bits like something out of a Broadway musical set piece, those are there pretty darn early with him (and of course, in every possible genre, though it’s understandable to focus on his sci-fi out-there stuff because holy cow)… The Panda wasn’t really his best day, though…

Filed under Worst Hobby or Worstest Hobby? drawrings