I'm listening to the Charlotte Gainsbourg album written for her by Air and Jarvis Cocker. It's pretty, but her voice hasn't come a long way since "Zeste de Citron." I like the sorts of albums French actresses release but apparently I don't like them enough to buy them, since I resent her voice's presence on an otherwise honestly good album. Lucky ho, except she got to be Serge Gainsbourg's daughter, which isn't really a fate I would wish on anybody. Well, maybe in private he was a really nice, even-keeled guy. Who knows, when it comes to people who end off their lives famous for being famous.
Did I mention I stopped looking at gossip sites? There were two on one day that made fun of a girl actress my neice's age so I just couldn't rationalize my own voyeurism anymore.
Gah . . . instead I'm ploughing through Robert Hughes' memoirs, Things I Didn't Know, and I must say it's craptastic. He finds something nasty to say about anyone, including people he otherwise claims are inoffensive or well-loved, and unlike in his art criticism seems incapable of giving it a context or placing it in a coherent structre - so many fucking textual loopdy-loops which add nothing - makes Katherine Hepburn's Me look like Jane Eyre. I thought asking for a review copy of this book would be like asking for a steak dinner at Boba's; what I've been delivered on a plate are new uppers for my Blundstones made out of rancid, bitter whale blubber.
And if that sounds over the top - my god - you should read this man discuss his sexual life. According to photographic evidence he was attractive when he was young, and hopefully a little less hard-boiled then, because his discussion of what he's sure living in a homo-erotic boarding school DIDN'T do to him is enough to pull the plug on a bathtub full of female sexuality. After reading about 150 pages of him last night, it took me fuckin' minutes to get into the mood.
Anyways, I'll finish it off and try not to hate it. Maybe he'll magically pull everything together when he starts writing about not being in Australia anymore. I doubt it though. He started these memoirs in a spirit of bitterness and - textually and stylistically - it shows. Not in a fun way, either.
14 commenti:
Imagine being famous enough for Jarvis Cocker to help your write your songs! That's jizztastic - can't go wrong, I expect. I can't help but love that man. He's so dirty and fun - I guess like the way Serge Gainsbourg was before he was old, creepy and dirty.
Yeah, Jarvis Cocker manages to seem dirty and fun instead of dirty and creepy. I wonder why that is. I suppose because sometimes he sings about things besides dirty, creepy things sometimes.
He makes dirty seem harmless and makes fun of those who are really dirty. And he says it all with an English accent.
I have a theory about why accents make people less unattractive. Remind me to babble on about it someday.
What do you think Jarvis Cocker is like if he was at a dinner party? Do you think he's really so outlandish in 'real life'?
I've tried to cut back on gossip sites too..besides, they all report the same stuff and quote each other so it's become very boring and repetitive. Somehow I still manage to keep up to date though, that's how pervasive this stuff is on the radio, tv, internet...
Probably not. Who knows? Well, I don't listen to the radio or watch television, and now I don't read gossip blogs, so we'll see how informed I am about punanis hanging out of dresses within a week or so.
Well, I manage to know little to nothing about whose punani is doing what and I do watch TV - but I can't stand those shows such as Inside Access or ET. They make me feel dumb and they tease you with some "news" and it turns out it isn't anything worth listening to anyways. "Find out what Jen said to Brad about Angelina after the break..." whatever. I just feel sorry for those people who are unable to have a normal relationship because everyone is waiting for them to have a fight or break up and they are being manipulated by the media who makes up stories about them.
Uhm . . . yeah . . . I think they might be able to console themselve with millions of dollars and a good security barrier and I think there's a special sort of exhibitionism involved in getting famous - but I don't care. I double-damn-it don't care. Although at the moment I'm thinking a gossip blog would be more edifying reading than Robert Fuckin Hughes.
It looks like you already have a review for the book. Maybe it's the first time someone has compared a book to whale blubber.
Maybe! I won't be able to include that in the proper review, though, because it's an ignorant comparison: I've never had whale blubber and maybe it's very, very good.
I've whale bacon once - not sure if it's the same as blubber - and it tasted like bacon with weird aftertaste. I can seeing being good if you get used to it. Nothing's probably good if it's rancid.
Well, is rancid just a polite way to say fermented? As in, kim chee is rancid/fermented cabbage? And I like kim chee.
And I heard in Iceland, they eat rancid shark flesh, and I can't see Icelandic people eating truly gross food - they're too pretty and Bjork is from there.
Good points. Sauerkraut is also very good. Fermented soy beans truly are gross though.
Ugh, I can't even imagine. Soy already has a difficult enough texture without throwing rancidity into the equation.
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