I have no movie to review tonight because Grimsley came over. We went on a CSUN walk and hung out for a while. Tomorrow night I should have a review for you, and this afternoon I finished my book "The Monuments Of Mars" by Richard Hoagland, which I already told you a little bit about, and because it was such an amazing book I am gonna need to do a lot more research into the subject of ancient ruins on Mars and the Moon.
The Moon is an especially weird planetary body. Take a minute to think how, during a solar eclipse, the Moon exactly covers the body of the Sun, so that only the Sun's corona can be seen.
Is that a coincidence? It's gotta be, right? Any scientist worth his rational salt would tell you so, because - to the majority of scientists (be they astronomers or whatever) - there is no magic in the world, in the Universe. And there certainly is no God. There is only rationality, which in their view can explain everything. Rationality more or less begins and ends at the ability to measure something, be it large or small. So, to a scientist (an astronomer), there would likely be nothing weird about the fact that - from a human viewpoint on Earth - the Moon exactly covers the Sun during an eclipse. It doesn't "mostly" cover it; it covers it exactly, to our eyes here on Earth.
Forget about astronomers and scientists for a moment. We know that they are extremely good at what they do, and we know that the work of science in general has greatly enhanced the ability of humans to live a life that is easier (in many ways), and has allowed humans a great chance to explore the solar system, and possibly even the Universe in centuries to come. We aren't picking on science here, we are merely stating that, because of scientific rigor (as it is called), the body of science often fails to acknowledge a few things that stand out as obvious to some of us in the general public.
Things like The Face On Mars, or all of the very weird mathematical "coincidences" of the Moon, like the fact - which anyone can see with their own eyes - that the Moon covers the Sun exactly during an eclipse.
What do you suppose the odds are that the Moon could be placed in such a position between the Earth and Sun, to block the Sun in such a way?
What do you think you are looking at when you see a photograph of the Face On Mars?
Do you trust your eyes and your intuition, or do you wait for a scientist to explain it to you?
What about 9/11? Did you wake up that morning and witness what was happening as it unfolded on live TV? I did. And I knew right away what my eyes and brain were telling me. I did not need to have the news media and Dick Cheney "explain" it to me. I saw it for myself.
I like to see things for myself. That way, nothing gets skewed by another person's "explanation".
Well, now I am on a tirade and I sound like a big jerk. I don't mean to, it's just that I'd like to see a sense of magic and wonder put back into our explorations of outer and inner space. It's not enough for NASA to show us JPL shots from Mars of the Rover looking out over a rocky landscape. That is a Big Snooze after ten or twenty years since the last Mars probe landed.
In the 1960s, at the beginning of the exploration of space, there was a sense of great wonder and possibility that accompanied every mission. "What is out there"? That is what everyone wanted to know. What is on the dark side of the Moon? What will the astronauts see when they actually land?
What will the Viking probe see on Mars?.
For younger people who are rightfully exited by Elon Musk's Space-X launches, I cannot tell you how exciting it was to actually watch men land on the Moon, and to see it on television. It was mind-blowing. I still have my Moon Globe that my Dad bought me for Christmas 1969, in honor of what had happened that year.
But the problem was that, after Apollo 17 in 1972, the whole thing was basically shut down. And there is a lot of evidence to show that the reason the space program was shut down was because of what they encountered on the Moon, or what they saw there.
Which resulted in an end to a Moon program shared with the American public.
Do you really think they went up there to gather some Moon rocks and call it a day?
Please.
And the same is true with The Face On Mars, which was photographed by Viking four years later in 1976. Once "The Face" was discovered, by a NASA employee, and once Richard Hoagland took it upon himself to undertake a study of The Face and the Cydonia region on Mars in which it is situated, NASA shut down any open scientific discussion of the subject. This is chronicled in Hoagland's book, the struggle between NASA and his own team of researchers to bring to public awareness the discovery of unusual structures at Cydonia.
So once again you had the scientific community putting a stop to public discussion of something unusual that was seen.
And though Richard Hoagland wrote his book, which was a bestseller 20 years ago, we have still been stuck in a rut ever since then, as far as the exploration of Mars is concerned. All we get to see is the same old boring rocky panoramas of the Martian desert.
And so it must be asked again : Do you really think they spent billions of dollars to send a rover up there, to study a rocky landscape for twenty years, after they took pictures of Mars 40 freaking years ago which, in one photograph, showed the world a Face that looked like the Egyptian Sphinx?
It is very important to study human nature, and to understand what motivates people to manipulate others, and to control information. This need to study the processes of the ego cannot be overstated.
If you think that scientists are immune to human nature, or don't have egos, or if you think that NASA is still the open-minded organisation it once was in it's heyday, then you might want to rethink your estimations.
I myself would like to see a return to real progress, in science and in the exploration of space.
We know what's out there. It's time for NASA to stop trying to control that information. Let's make it public, so that we can move forward again as a united Planet Earth, just like we did in the 1960s.
Hey NASA, let's see what you've got. Let's see your pictures.
That's all for tonight. See you in the morn.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
"Sylvie et le Fantome" by Claude Autant-Lara
Tonight I watched the last of the three Autant-Lara movies that I got from Northridge Libe. This one was called "Sylvie et le Fantome" (1946), a charming story of a young girl and the ghost she has a crush on. Odette Joyeux once again stars as a precocious 16 year old (though she was 30 when she played the part) who seems more knowing than those around her. She lives in a huge, castle-like mansion with her father and some relatives, and a few servants. As the movie opens, she is giving a tour of the mansion to a group of village children. She shows them what she considers to be the prize possession of the entire household; a large painting - a 19th century-style portrait - of an elegant man all dressed in white. She explains to the children that he was a secret paramour of her Grandmother, who was married to a cruel man. Then she shows the children the secret passageway located directly behind the painting, in the wall, that allowed her grandmother's lover to sneak into the castle.
Of course, he was caught by the cruel husband, who challenged him to a duel, which the husband won.
And thus, the paramour was killed and became a ghost. Sylvie's grandmother later disposed of her cruel husband, and had a portrait painted of her real love. And his ghost came to reside inside that painting.
Sylvie can't see him, but she knows he is there. This is the Odette Joyeux Factor that Autant-Lara has used in all the films I've seen, where he uses the Joyeux character and her own traits as an actress to portray an All Knowing Young Girl On The Verge Of Womanhood.
The Ghost - portrayed by the brilliant comic actor/director Jacques Tati, who would go on to greater fame with his "Mr. Hulot" films (the stuff of comic genius) - can see her, and he loves her in a spiritual way, because he is a spirit. He knows what is in her heart. He sees also that she has a suitor or two in the real world, and that knowledge figures into his decision to ultimately interfere in her life.
The plot of the film involves Sylvie's imminent 17th birthday party. Her father is going broke, and he needs to sell off the furnishings of the castle to stay afloat. One of the things he is selling is Sylvie's prized portrait of her grandmother's secret lover, who is now The Ghost. Her father knows that losing the painting will break Sylvie's heart, so he arranges a secret action for her birthday party.
He hires a stage actor from a local casting agency to portray a "live ghost" - The Ghost from the portrait! The Ghost is to make an entrance into the party at Midnight, to entrance the impressionable Sylvie one last time, and in real life, so that she will not feel so bad about losing her favorite painting.
But in the plot, three ghosts show up to play the part, while still the Real Ghost is roaming the castle.
Here I must leave you, because as with the other Claude Autant-Lara films I have recently reviewed for you, the plot is so intricately layered and so well detailed and characterized, that to try and describe it is not only to ruin it, but is also a lost cause. "Sylvie et le Fantome" is a beautiful fantasy that you simply have to see, rather than to have me describe it to you.
Like the other two Autant-Lara films I've attempted to review, it is a movie that could never be reproduced in this day and age, simply because people and ideas are so different now. As talented as filmmakers are now in the technical sense, and actors too, there simply could not be another type of film (or films) like these three I have been so fortunate to discover. And that is because the world has changed quite a bit. These films by Autant-Lara were made in the midst of Nazi occupation of France, and so it feels like the fantasy aspect, especially in the visual presentation of these movies, was something the director channeled. It feels like he created something in these movies to rise above the circumstances he and his countrymen were living under, and in doing so he gave the audience for these films something beautiful to believe in, and to sustain themselves in that belief.
That's how great these films are.
So here's to the Great Director Claude Autant-Lara, who I had never heard of a month ago, but who I was fortunate to discover because he made some very, very great movies.
Tonight I say, search for what is great, and search for what is true.
You may not know what you are looking for when you search, but your spirit will show you.
When your spirit shows you what you are looking for, embrace what you find.
See you in the morning.
Of course, he was caught by the cruel husband, who challenged him to a duel, which the husband won.
And thus, the paramour was killed and became a ghost. Sylvie's grandmother later disposed of her cruel husband, and had a portrait painted of her real love. And his ghost came to reside inside that painting.
Sylvie can't see him, but she knows he is there. This is the Odette Joyeux Factor that Autant-Lara has used in all the films I've seen, where he uses the Joyeux character and her own traits as an actress to portray an All Knowing Young Girl On The Verge Of Womanhood.
The Ghost - portrayed by the brilliant comic actor/director Jacques Tati, who would go on to greater fame with his "Mr. Hulot" films (the stuff of comic genius) - can see her, and he loves her in a spiritual way, because he is a spirit. He knows what is in her heart. He sees also that she has a suitor or two in the real world, and that knowledge figures into his decision to ultimately interfere in her life.
The plot of the film involves Sylvie's imminent 17th birthday party. Her father is going broke, and he needs to sell off the furnishings of the castle to stay afloat. One of the things he is selling is Sylvie's prized portrait of her grandmother's secret lover, who is now The Ghost. Her father knows that losing the painting will break Sylvie's heart, so he arranges a secret action for her birthday party.
He hires a stage actor from a local casting agency to portray a "live ghost" - The Ghost from the portrait! The Ghost is to make an entrance into the party at Midnight, to entrance the impressionable Sylvie one last time, and in real life, so that she will not feel so bad about losing her favorite painting.
But in the plot, three ghosts show up to play the part, while still the Real Ghost is roaming the castle.
Here I must leave you, because as with the other Claude Autant-Lara films I have recently reviewed for you, the plot is so intricately layered and so well detailed and characterized, that to try and describe it is not only to ruin it, but is also a lost cause. "Sylvie et le Fantome" is a beautiful fantasy that you simply have to see, rather than to have me describe it to you.
Like the other two Autant-Lara films I've attempted to review, it is a movie that could never be reproduced in this day and age, simply because people and ideas are so different now. As talented as filmmakers are now in the technical sense, and actors too, there simply could not be another type of film (or films) like these three I have been so fortunate to discover. And that is because the world has changed quite a bit. These films by Autant-Lara were made in the midst of Nazi occupation of France, and so it feels like the fantasy aspect, especially in the visual presentation of these movies, was something the director channeled. It feels like he created something in these movies to rise above the circumstances he and his countrymen were living under, and in doing so he gave the audience for these films something beautiful to believe in, and to sustain themselves in that belief.
That's how great these films are.
So here's to the Great Director Claude Autant-Lara, who I had never heard of a month ago, but who I was fortunate to discover because he made some very, very great movies.
Tonight I say, search for what is great, and search for what is true.
You may not know what you are looking for when you search, but your spirit will show you.
When your spirit shows you what you are looking for, embrace what you find.
See you in the morning.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Good Singing + "Twin Peaks" Part Three + 1989: How Did "X" Return To Work After Being Assaulted?
I am writing tonight from Pearl's, back at work again. I was also back in church after having missed last week due to illness, and it was great to sing again for the first time in three weeks because we had the Scout Sunday a couple weeks ago where there was no singing either. But as I drive around, which I do a lot in the course of my job, I have been listening to K-Surf (1260AM), our local L.A. Oldies Station. They play nothing but '60s Pop - an era when every song on the radio was great - and I know all of those songs, so I sing along in the car and it helps to develop my voice. If you notice on FB that I've been occasionally posting songs by The Turtles or The Young Rascals or The Byrds, that's why : because I've been listening to their songs on the radio. As far as 1960s Pop is concerned, it is far and away the greatest period of Pop Music and Top 40 Radio, and I know and love almost every song from that era.
So let's form a Singing Group! Who wants to sing with me? It will be a blast, and we can do great harmonies like The Mamas and The Papas, only we won't be as demented! :)
My first two Pop Influences (or Rock if you prefer) were The Beatles and The Supremes, because those were the two groups my sisters played. And so I heard John singing with Paul, and George too, with the great Beatle harmonies and lead singing, and then on the Supremes side - well, they had Diana Ross. As far as I am concerned, when she was in The Supremes, Diana Ross was the greatest female Pop singer of them all. So at 4 years of age, I was hearing a lot of great singing. It took fifty years for me to try it myself, and if it weren't for Dr. Kwon, who was the choir director when I joined (because she made me join, lol) I'd have never known how much fun it is to sing.
So a Singing Group is in my future, and You are gonna join me! :)
You, being both The General You and The More Specific You - all of you love to sing. You just don't know it yet. But three years and three months down the road, you will be itchin' to sing, and you will be glad I made you join the group. :)
Tonight I did not watch a movie, because I was Sunday Night tired and you know how that goes. I wanted to save my third Autant-Lara dvd for tomorrow night or Tuesday night, when I will be fully rested. But I did watch a "Twin Peaks"! It was "Part Three", or the Third Episode, whatever you want to call it, but : There is not a chance in Hell that I will try to describe this episode to you, because it is Pure Surrealism. It is a series of very unusual sequences that may fit together in a cosmic way if David Lynch intends, but it does not fall on me to attempt an interpretation.
Just watch it, if you haven't already. It's good to Get Weird. :)
I am Sunday Night Tired, as mentioned above, but I need to find a detail in the 1989 scenario to latch onto and pick apart. I have started to write about it again, and I am still waiting for an answer from the CIA to my FOIA Appeal, so I can't just ditch the effort I have made thus far. It's like trying to lift the world on my shoulders - it's very hard, because I've had no help - but I have to keep trying.
Tonight I only have a tidbit, and it might not lead anywhere, but it involves a question that has intrigued me for many years. The question involves "X".
"X" was directly involved in the initial incident at Concord Square. During the mayhem that followed, at Northridge Hospital, "X" was subject to a violent assault by Howard Schaller. I was standing right next to "X", so I witnessed it. I even tried to prevent it. But what ended up happening was that "X" passed out on the asphalt of the Northridge Hospital parking lot.
This is a Truth that "X" and Anne may not want to think about, but not wanting to think about The Truth does not make The Truth any less True. I was there. I saw "X" pass out. I saw an ambulance arrive, and I saw paramedics administer oxygen to "X".
"X" was unconscious, and in bad shape after being assaulted by the linebacker-sized Howard Schaller. He did not beat her up, per se, but he did hit her with a hard slap, and he did pull a chain off her neck, and mostly he intimidated her with the powerful male physical force of a very large and muscular man, and - far worse - with the sheer terror of human rage. That is what Howard Schaller did to "X".
I was standing right next to both of them, though I was in a state of shock, having been brought to the hospital to begin with by Anne, in order to have me checked out for the stun gun shock I had suffered an hour or so earlier.
It all sounds nuts, but it all happened.
I have spent the better part of the last 25 years trying to figure out what happened to me, but I have never understood what happened to "X", either.
My question tonight, then, involves the injury "X" suffered that night, when she passed out and needed oxygen after being assaulted by Howard Schaller in the Northridge Hospital parking lot. From what I remember, "X" was taken away on a stretcher.
No joke.
"X" was taken away, with an oxygen mask on, and put into an ambulance. I am not ultra-clear on the memory, but I am clear enough to be sure of the part I have just described.
"X" was out cold, unconscious, the victim of a violent assault. And "X" was taken away, likely to a hospital. If not Northridge, right there on the spot, then another hospital nearby. Or maybe "X" was treated on the scene in the paramedics' wagon, as I was earlier in the evening at Concord Square.
The bottom line is that "X" was knocked out cold. "X" had suffered a terrible shock, both physically and psychologically.
But the other thing is that "X" had only recently begun a new job, in the music industry. "X" had begun the job about two months earlier, in July 1989.
"X" was new to the job, in other words, and though "X" was professional and good at the job from the start, there is still something I have never been able to understand.
How did "X" explain to her new employer what had happened to her? Or was an explanation needed?
I would imagine that "X" would have had to have missed at least a few days of work. "X" was assaulted on Friday September 1st, 1989. That was the Friday of Labor Day weekend, so she would have had until the following Tuesday to recover, and I believe she could have recovered physically by that time, in order to return to work.
But what about her psychological recovery?
Did "X" just show up at work on Tuesday September 5th, recovered from the physical aspects of Schaller's assault, but in no way recovered from the psychological and emotional aspects?
Because there is no way that "X" could simply have returned to work in her music industry job, with it's high level of responsibility, four days after getting slapped around by a raging monster, and four days after passing out unconscious due to the same scenario. Four days after being taken away in an ambulance.
So - what happened that night, to "X"? What happened after she was taken away, on oxygen, in an ambulance?
Did she return to work on Tuesday September 5th? If so, what did she say to her co-workers? Anything?
I submit that there was no way in Hell that "X" could have returned to work so soon. No freaking way. The events of September 1989 were only just beginning, and far worse was yet to come, certainly for me at least. So there is absolutely no way that "X" just went back to her job, la-de-dah, as if nothing had happened.
So the final question then becomes, if "X" did indeed miss some work, or even experienced "missing time" as I did, then what the hell happened when she did return to work, to her new job with it's high responsibility?
Did the boss want to know, "where were you"? Did her co-workers say, "what happened"?
Did "X" return to work and tell her story? "I was mugged by a psycho after such-and-such happened on Labor Day weekend"?
If "X" returned to work, how did she explain her absence?
Or was it all taken care of?
That is the question for tonight.
See you in the morning. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
So let's form a Singing Group! Who wants to sing with me? It will be a blast, and we can do great harmonies like The Mamas and The Papas, only we won't be as demented! :)
My first two Pop Influences (or Rock if you prefer) were The Beatles and The Supremes, because those were the two groups my sisters played. And so I heard John singing with Paul, and George too, with the great Beatle harmonies and lead singing, and then on the Supremes side - well, they had Diana Ross. As far as I am concerned, when she was in The Supremes, Diana Ross was the greatest female Pop singer of them all. So at 4 years of age, I was hearing a lot of great singing. It took fifty years for me to try it myself, and if it weren't for Dr. Kwon, who was the choir director when I joined (because she made me join, lol) I'd have never known how much fun it is to sing.
So a Singing Group is in my future, and You are gonna join me! :)
You, being both The General You and The More Specific You - all of you love to sing. You just don't know it yet. But three years and three months down the road, you will be itchin' to sing, and you will be glad I made you join the group. :)
Tonight I did not watch a movie, because I was Sunday Night tired and you know how that goes. I wanted to save my third Autant-Lara dvd for tomorrow night or Tuesday night, when I will be fully rested. But I did watch a "Twin Peaks"! It was "Part Three", or the Third Episode, whatever you want to call it, but : There is not a chance in Hell that I will try to describe this episode to you, because it is Pure Surrealism. It is a series of very unusual sequences that may fit together in a cosmic way if David Lynch intends, but it does not fall on me to attempt an interpretation.
Just watch it, if you haven't already. It's good to Get Weird. :)
I am Sunday Night Tired, as mentioned above, but I need to find a detail in the 1989 scenario to latch onto and pick apart. I have started to write about it again, and I am still waiting for an answer from the CIA to my FOIA Appeal, so I can't just ditch the effort I have made thus far. It's like trying to lift the world on my shoulders - it's very hard, because I've had no help - but I have to keep trying.
Tonight I only have a tidbit, and it might not lead anywhere, but it involves a question that has intrigued me for many years. The question involves "X".
"X" was directly involved in the initial incident at Concord Square. During the mayhem that followed, at Northridge Hospital, "X" was subject to a violent assault by Howard Schaller. I was standing right next to "X", so I witnessed it. I even tried to prevent it. But what ended up happening was that "X" passed out on the asphalt of the Northridge Hospital parking lot.
This is a Truth that "X" and Anne may not want to think about, but not wanting to think about The Truth does not make The Truth any less True. I was there. I saw "X" pass out. I saw an ambulance arrive, and I saw paramedics administer oxygen to "X".
"X" was unconscious, and in bad shape after being assaulted by the linebacker-sized Howard Schaller. He did not beat her up, per se, but he did hit her with a hard slap, and he did pull a chain off her neck, and mostly he intimidated her with the powerful male physical force of a very large and muscular man, and - far worse - with the sheer terror of human rage. That is what Howard Schaller did to "X".
I was standing right next to both of them, though I was in a state of shock, having been brought to the hospital to begin with by Anne, in order to have me checked out for the stun gun shock I had suffered an hour or so earlier.
It all sounds nuts, but it all happened.
I have spent the better part of the last 25 years trying to figure out what happened to me, but I have never understood what happened to "X", either.
My question tonight, then, involves the injury "X" suffered that night, when she passed out and needed oxygen after being assaulted by Howard Schaller in the Northridge Hospital parking lot. From what I remember, "X" was taken away on a stretcher.
No joke.
"X" was taken away, with an oxygen mask on, and put into an ambulance. I am not ultra-clear on the memory, but I am clear enough to be sure of the part I have just described.
"X" was out cold, unconscious, the victim of a violent assault. And "X" was taken away, likely to a hospital. If not Northridge, right there on the spot, then another hospital nearby. Or maybe "X" was treated on the scene in the paramedics' wagon, as I was earlier in the evening at Concord Square.
The bottom line is that "X" was knocked out cold. "X" had suffered a terrible shock, both physically and psychologically.
But the other thing is that "X" had only recently begun a new job, in the music industry. "X" had begun the job about two months earlier, in July 1989.
"X" was new to the job, in other words, and though "X" was professional and good at the job from the start, there is still something I have never been able to understand.
How did "X" explain to her new employer what had happened to her? Or was an explanation needed?
I would imagine that "X" would have had to have missed at least a few days of work. "X" was assaulted on Friday September 1st, 1989. That was the Friday of Labor Day weekend, so she would have had until the following Tuesday to recover, and I believe she could have recovered physically by that time, in order to return to work.
But what about her psychological recovery?
Did "X" just show up at work on Tuesday September 5th, recovered from the physical aspects of Schaller's assault, but in no way recovered from the psychological and emotional aspects?
Because there is no way that "X" could simply have returned to work in her music industry job, with it's high level of responsibility, four days after getting slapped around by a raging monster, and four days after passing out unconscious due to the same scenario. Four days after being taken away in an ambulance.
So - what happened that night, to "X"? What happened after she was taken away, on oxygen, in an ambulance?
Did she return to work on Tuesday September 5th? If so, what did she say to her co-workers? Anything?
I submit that there was no way in Hell that "X" could have returned to work so soon. No freaking way. The events of September 1989 were only just beginning, and far worse was yet to come, certainly for me at least. So there is absolutely no way that "X" just went back to her job, la-de-dah, as if nothing had happened.
So the final question then becomes, if "X" did indeed miss some work, or even experienced "missing time" as I did, then what the hell happened when she did return to work, to her new job with it's high responsibility?
Did the boss want to know, "where were you"? Did her co-workers say, "what happened"?
Did "X" return to work and tell her story? "I was mugged by a psycho after such-and-such happened on Labor Day weekend"?
If "X" returned to work, how did she explain her absence?
Or was it all taken care of?
That is the question for tonight.
See you in the morning. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Sunday, February 25, 2018
"Douce" by Autant-Lara (a five star movie) + An Awesome Hike At Towsley Canyon
Still writing from home, my last night off for a few weeks. Earlier this eve I watched the second of my three Claude Autant-Lara movies, scored from Northridge Libe as noted yesterday. Tonight's film was "Douce" (1943), which directly followed last night's "Lettres D'amour" (1942). Both films were made during the Nazi occupation of France. I don't know the cultural politics that went on at the time, but it seems to me a major accomplishment for a director to even make a film under such circumstances, let alone these works of art. Having become acquainted with the luminous directorial style of Autant-Lara with "Lettres", I was prepared for another good work tonight, but he surpassed my expectations with "Douce", which I would place in the pantheon of great romantic melodramas with films like "Wuthering Heights" and "Rebecca" and any other you care to name.
Odette Joyeux, who also starred in "Lettres", played the title character "Douce", the isolated granddaughter of a wealthy old woman who holds forth over her estate with a sense of class-entitled superiority. She is a mean old wench who lords it over her middle-aged son, the widowed father of Douce.
Douce has a Governess who tutors her, a pretty but very repressed young woman. Douce's father is in love with the Governess, and tells her so. He promises to marry her, but he can't carry out his promise because of the class protocols of French society in 1877. One does not marry one's servant, harrumph!
And Granny rules the household, and she will prevent it if she can. It's one of Those Kinds Of Deals.
But there is a ton of other stuff going on, because the Governess has a secret. She.....well, I can't tell ya without ruining the intricate plot.......but let's just say that she has a previous paramour who is still in love with her. He is connected to the family, but the other problem is that young Douce is in love with him.
What could go wrong? (just like last night)
Man, is it ever messed up. How do those J. Geils lyrics go? "You love her, but she loves him, and he loves somebody else, you just can't win". This story is along those lines, and as with "Lettres D'amour" the plot is layered and intricate. I harp on the deficiencies of modern screenwriting and this is why. This is how you write a story, and shape the plot and turn it into great dialogue. This is how you edit a film. This is classic filmmaking in the early Hollywood style, but again I need to point out that Autant-Lara has a wonderful visual style that has a French look, where you feel like you are actually in Paris in the year 1877, but he somehow makes it seem that you are watching a dream version of the romantic story. He has total command of all cinematic techniques, especially "mise-en-scene", which just means arranging every item in the set and placing the actors and lighting everything in such a way to make every single frame look like a perfect composition, and in this case as I say, you feel as if you are right there in the time and place with these people, but also in a fantasy. This is Love presented as Larger Than Life, which is what it is. But in this case there are many troubles.......which shouldn't be, because Love is Love.
A lot of credit should also go to the players, and especially to Odette Joyeux, who has been fantastic in both films I have seen so far.
"Douce" is a five star movie, I not only give it two huge thumbs up, but if you are in any way interested in foreign cinema, and in classic melodrama, I urge you to check it out. A great, great film. I wish I could tell you more of the plot but I simply cannot. ///
This afternoon I went to Towsley Canyon park in Santa Clarita for an awesome hike. I had more time than usual, today being a day off, and so I went for a four mile round trip - two miles in, two miles back out, and it was a great feeling to get my hiking legs back after having that stupid flu bug. I took a few pics of the rock formations known as The Narrows, then I went halfway up the back of the mountain, and was home in time to finish my Jimmie Nicol book.
I got a lot of stuff done today, and had a lot of fun. Now all I need is somebody to do stuff with. That's the one thing that is still missing in my life and must be remedied :)
Tonight I started a new charcoal drawing, but that is one thing that I've gotta do myself, cause they're kinda weird....
Tomorrow morning I will be back at work and back in church, after missing last week due to flu. It will be good to sing again, and we have an anthem scheduled that allows for full-on belting.
See you in the pews. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Odette Joyeux, who also starred in "Lettres", played the title character "Douce", the isolated granddaughter of a wealthy old woman who holds forth over her estate with a sense of class-entitled superiority. She is a mean old wench who lords it over her middle-aged son, the widowed father of Douce.
Douce has a Governess who tutors her, a pretty but very repressed young woman. Douce's father is in love with the Governess, and tells her so. He promises to marry her, but he can't carry out his promise because of the class protocols of French society in 1877. One does not marry one's servant, harrumph!
And Granny rules the household, and she will prevent it if she can. It's one of Those Kinds Of Deals.
But there is a ton of other stuff going on, because the Governess has a secret. She.....well, I can't tell ya without ruining the intricate plot.......but let's just say that she has a previous paramour who is still in love with her. He is connected to the family, but the other problem is that young Douce is in love with him.
What could go wrong? (just like last night)
Man, is it ever messed up. How do those J. Geils lyrics go? "You love her, but she loves him, and he loves somebody else, you just can't win". This story is along those lines, and as with "Lettres D'amour" the plot is layered and intricate. I harp on the deficiencies of modern screenwriting and this is why. This is how you write a story, and shape the plot and turn it into great dialogue. This is how you edit a film. This is classic filmmaking in the early Hollywood style, but again I need to point out that Autant-Lara has a wonderful visual style that has a French look, where you feel like you are actually in Paris in the year 1877, but he somehow makes it seem that you are watching a dream version of the romantic story. He has total command of all cinematic techniques, especially "mise-en-scene", which just means arranging every item in the set and placing the actors and lighting everything in such a way to make every single frame look like a perfect composition, and in this case as I say, you feel as if you are right there in the time and place with these people, but also in a fantasy. This is Love presented as Larger Than Life, which is what it is. But in this case there are many troubles.......which shouldn't be, because Love is Love.
A lot of credit should also go to the players, and especially to Odette Joyeux, who has been fantastic in both films I have seen so far.
"Douce" is a five star movie, I not only give it two huge thumbs up, but if you are in any way interested in foreign cinema, and in classic melodrama, I urge you to check it out. A great, great film. I wish I could tell you more of the plot but I simply cannot. ///
This afternoon I went to Towsley Canyon park in Santa Clarita for an awesome hike. I had more time than usual, today being a day off, and so I went for a four mile round trip - two miles in, two miles back out, and it was a great feeling to get my hiking legs back after having that stupid flu bug. I took a few pics of the rock formations known as The Narrows, then I went halfway up the back of the mountain, and was home in time to finish my Jimmie Nicol book.
I got a lot of stuff done today, and had a lot of fun. Now all I need is somebody to do stuff with. That's the one thing that is still missing in my life and must be remedied :)
Tonight I started a new charcoal drawing, but that is one thing that I've gotta do myself, cause they're kinda weird....
Tomorrow morning I will be back at work and back in church, after missing last week due to flu. It will be good to sing again, and we have an anthem scheduled that allows for full-on belting.
See you in the pews. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Saturday, February 24, 2018
"Lettres D'amour" by Claude Autant-Lara + Enslaved
I'm writing from home, off work till Sunday morning. Tonight I saw a great film by a French director who was unknown to me until recently. His name is Claude Autant-Lara, he lived to be 98 years old, and he made movies steadily from 1930 to 1972, but for some reason he has never been well known in the annals of French cinema, perhaps because he was not part of a young, hip New Wave of Truffaut & Godard, et al. Seeing his body of work on IMDB, I was surprised never to have heard of him, and if it weren't for Criterion, who just this month released four of his mid-40s films on their Eclipse label, and if the Libe had not carried those films, I would likely still not know his name. Claude Autant-Lara should be well known, at least to cinephiles, and now that may happen with these releases, of which I have three of the four dvds in my possession, and will be watching them over the weekend.
Tonight I began with "Lettres D'amour". You can't go wrong with a title like that, though I didn't know what to expect concerning style and story. Five minutes into the film, however, I was hooked. The movie is played as a farce, with quick repartee between the members of an ensemble cast. The year is 1855, in a provincial town in the French countryside. The local postmistress is receiving letters, addressed to her, but meant for her lifelong friend who happens to have graduated to the local high society. She is married to a "Prefect" (a Mayor or something like that), but he is an old fuddy duddy and she is having an affair. Her paramour sends her the Love Letters of the title, but to be discreet he addresses them to the postmistress, who then surreptitiously forwards them to her wealthy friend.
What could possibly go wrong? :)
The postmistress opens the letters and reads them before passing them on to her friend, the rightful recipient. The postmistress feels it is her right to open and read them; they are addressed to her, after all, and - most importantly! - this is a French farce. With the French, anything goes, and this time director Autant-Lara winds up a plot that is so deftly constructed, with layer upon layer of deception and mistaken identity, that you have to be on your toes while viewing to take it all in.
I was reminded of the time, about fifteen years ago, when I watched the classic American Screwball Comedy "His Girl Friday". The dialogue between Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell was so fast that I felt like a deer in the headlights. I could not keep up, and I wondered later how they even prepped to execute that kind of fast talking.
There is no "speed rapping" on that level in "Lettres D'amour", but the farcial mixups arrive one after the other, and the actors play it to the hilt. The main attraction is the directorial style of Autant-Lara. Man, what a great find! He shoots the movie in well-lit black and white (no Noir shadows here), and it looks as if you are attending a fantasy ball in France in the mid-19th century. Though there is deception, there are no real bad vibes, everyone is clever rather than cunning, and there is a subplot running throughout that pits the blue-collar people of the town, like the postmistress, against the wealthy folks. In the end, their differences are settled in a dance contest. But what about the Love Letters? Who wrote them? Do we ever find out?
That I can't tell ya. You'll just have to see for yourself. But hooray for Claude Autant-Lara! I encourage anyone interested in movies to check out French cinema, and not just the well known New Wave films of the late 50s through the 60s, but also the more conventional French movies of the 1940s, which were made more in the style of Golden Age Hollywood but with an enormous French Twist. See "Children Of Paradise" by Marcel Carne, for instance, or the films of Max Ophuls. These films are artworks that belong in a museum....
Well, I'll stop preaching now, but soon I'll resume preaching, because I have two more Autant-Lara films lined up for the next few days. :)
Hey Elizabeth, did you go to the Enslaved concert tonight? I saw a post yesterday that said you were going. If you did go, I hope you had a blast. I saw Enslaved back in October 2011 at The Troubador, when they headlined over Alcest (who I had gone to see), but Enslaved were great too. I am guessing you also went because of Wolves In The Throne Room, and maybe even mainly for them. So you had a good double bill, and that is awesome. Concerts rule! :)
I am stoked because I got a great seat for Todd Rundgren's Utopia, who I haven't seen since the late 1970s. Utopia is a whole 'nuther thing that is different from Todd Rundgren solo, but he is the main ingredient, and of course Todd is one of the greats in all of rock history. I am happy that some of my favorite artists are not only still Doing It as they hit 70 years of age, but are Doing It at the same high level that they've always done it. It's incredible really.
See you in the morning. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Tonight I began with "Lettres D'amour". You can't go wrong with a title like that, though I didn't know what to expect concerning style and story. Five minutes into the film, however, I was hooked. The movie is played as a farce, with quick repartee between the members of an ensemble cast. The year is 1855, in a provincial town in the French countryside. The local postmistress is receiving letters, addressed to her, but meant for her lifelong friend who happens to have graduated to the local high society. She is married to a "Prefect" (a Mayor or something like that), but he is an old fuddy duddy and she is having an affair. Her paramour sends her the Love Letters of the title, but to be discreet he addresses them to the postmistress, who then surreptitiously forwards them to her wealthy friend.
What could possibly go wrong? :)
The postmistress opens the letters and reads them before passing them on to her friend, the rightful recipient. The postmistress feels it is her right to open and read them; they are addressed to her, after all, and - most importantly! - this is a French farce. With the French, anything goes, and this time director Autant-Lara winds up a plot that is so deftly constructed, with layer upon layer of deception and mistaken identity, that you have to be on your toes while viewing to take it all in.
I was reminded of the time, about fifteen years ago, when I watched the classic American Screwball Comedy "His Girl Friday". The dialogue between Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell was so fast that I felt like a deer in the headlights. I could not keep up, and I wondered later how they even prepped to execute that kind of fast talking.
There is no "speed rapping" on that level in "Lettres D'amour", but the farcial mixups arrive one after the other, and the actors play it to the hilt. The main attraction is the directorial style of Autant-Lara. Man, what a great find! He shoots the movie in well-lit black and white (no Noir shadows here), and it looks as if you are attending a fantasy ball in France in the mid-19th century. Though there is deception, there are no real bad vibes, everyone is clever rather than cunning, and there is a subplot running throughout that pits the blue-collar people of the town, like the postmistress, against the wealthy folks. In the end, their differences are settled in a dance contest. But what about the Love Letters? Who wrote them? Do we ever find out?
That I can't tell ya. You'll just have to see for yourself. But hooray for Claude Autant-Lara! I encourage anyone interested in movies to check out French cinema, and not just the well known New Wave films of the late 50s through the 60s, but also the more conventional French movies of the 1940s, which were made more in the style of Golden Age Hollywood but with an enormous French Twist. See "Children Of Paradise" by Marcel Carne, for instance, or the films of Max Ophuls. These films are artworks that belong in a museum....
Well, I'll stop preaching now, but soon I'll resume preaching, because I have two more Autant-Lara films lined up for the next few days. :)
Hey Elizabeth, did you go to the Enslaved concert tonight? I saw a post yesterday that said you were going. If you did go, I hope you had a blast. I saw Enslaved back in October 2011 at The Troubador, when they headlined over Alcest (who I had gone to see), but Enslaved were great too. I am guessing you also went because of Wolves In The Throne Room, and maybe even mainly for them. So you had a good double bill, and that is awesome. Concerts rule! :)
I am stoked because I got a great seat for Todd Rundgren's Utopia, who I haven't seen since the late 1970s. Utopia is a whole 'nuther thing that is different from Todd Rundgren solo, but he is the main ingredient, and of course Todd is one of the greats in all of rock history. I am happy that some of my favorite artists are not only still Doing It as they hit 70 years of age, but are Doing It at the same high level that they've always done it. It's incredible really.
See you in the morning. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Friday, February 23, 2018
"Everything For Sale" by Wajda + Cybulski + Elizabeth
Tonight at CSUN we saw "Everything For Sale" (original Polish title "Wszystko na sprzedaz") by director Andrzej Wajda and released in 1969. "Everything" is a film-about-making-a-film in the style of Fellini's "8 1/2" or Truffaut's "Day For Night". In this case, Wajda made the film as a tribute to his star actor Zbignew Cybulski, who had died tragically in January 1967 when he was run over by a train in a freak accident. If you recall a couple of recent reviews I wrote about previous Wajda films at CSUN, I mentioned Cybulski as "The Polish James Dean", and the comparison is fairly apt. Though Cybulski is virtually unknown to American filmgoers (and was to me until a few years ago), he was revered in Poland. Like James Dean, whose look and style he deliberately copied, Cybulski had a lot of natural talent and onscreen charisma. He was one of those actors who, when he is in a scene, you can't take your eyes off him. Also like James Dean, he died young (though at 39, a bit older than Dean), and he died in a reckless way, by trying to run to catch up with a departing train. As he ran, and the train accelerated, he tried to grab the handle to the steps below an entry door. But he lost his grip and fell down onto the tracks, and........was gone.
His sudden death affected Andrzej Wajda very much. Cybulski has been his favorite actor, his star. So he decided to make a movie about him, by making a movie about a film crew, and the film's director and actors. They are all working on a movie, but their star is missing. They keep shooting, with the director character subbing as a stunt double for the missing star. They even shoot a "train scene" in which the star (subbed by the director as stunt double) falls under a train. The actual movie, the one we are watching onscreen, is edited and scripted in a stream-of-consciousness flow, so it is not until later that we discover that they only added the "train scene" after finally discovering the whereabouts of their missing star. The news reaches the crew that he has died in just such a way, and the "train scene", which is shown to the movie audience at the film's beginning, is actually being added at the end of the "movie in the story".
The other main focus is on the individual actors in the cast of the Interior Movie. They are all superficial, in love with each other and even more in love with themselves. It seems to be Wajda's comment on what we can call the Cinematic Family that develops on any shoot, because of the closeness in proximity of director, actors and crew, and time spent together in intense, emotional artistic creation. But in the case of actors, Wadja suggests that in real life, no emotion can ever be trusted to be entirely real, because they are trained to "act out" emotions, and so what is real? Are they acting or being genuine?
Only the mythical Star (Cybulski) was genuine. He had a jacket, found by another actor in the Interior Movie, that had a button pinned to it that said "I Am A Genius", which was Wajda's way of paying his late friend an ultimate compliment.
Zbigniew Cybulski did have all the makings of a "rock n' roll" big time charisma movie star ala James Dean, from the era of the late 50s through the 60s.
He was worth such a tribute movie. The main problem for me was, quite simply, the dialogue. Everything else was great : the superficial, neurotic relationships between the actors on set (typical movie shoot), the search for the missing star, etc. The story itself was very good, and the cinematography at times reached heights of true originality. Near the end of the film, there is a lengthy shot of a burning orange setting Sun, as seen out of a moving car window, that to me is one of the greatest camera shots I've ever seen.
But the dialogue was a problem for me. The actors talk in bits and pieces of disjointed sentences, all the way through the movie. At times, it seems as if they are spouting non-sequiturs. This is all supposed to be artful in the tradition of free form European art cinema of the 1960s, and I suppose if I saw the film again, it might be less difficult to deal with. But on first viewing, the dialogue was so rapid (Polish language is spoken ultra-fast) and the subtitles went by so quickly, and the snippets of sentences did not tie together in any coherent way, that it caused a disconnect for me.
I would call this a very good film nonetheless, but it was not an easy film to watch.
Great as a work of Art Cinema, but trying as a story, due to the stream-of-consciousness dialogue.
Let's give it a single Thumbs Up then, and a recommendation to see it, but with the aforementioned caveats. See it in memory of Cybulski! ///
Elizabeth, I saw a post this morning, via Steve, about looking for jobs. He is looking for sound mixing jobs, but I am guessing that you may have meant it in reference to yourself, if you read last night's blog and were responding to my message to you. I mentioned before that I can't tell if you read or not since you moved, because when you still lived at home, I always saw the "Macintosh" show up in my Blogger stats most days. I have no idea how stats work, and I know zip about computers, but I think that if a person were reading the blog from an iPhone or something that wasn't "plugged in", that maybe no stat would show up. Like last night - I wrote to you, the SB, and it seems like you responded, but there was no "Macintosh" in my stats today, so maybe you are reading on another medium.
At any rate, if you are reading, I know you are going to find plenty of jobs, and not just jobs but fulfilling artistic work. Just remember that patience is part of the process, and keep your focus and let nothing derail you. Keep in mind what you have already accomplished. I've seen the recent additions to your professional websites, and both sites look great.
I love The Red Dress section of course! And I see several Dress pictures that I haven't seen before, and all are fantastic. :)
In closing, for tonight anyway, I just want to say one thing, and I say it because I was born before you and therefore have previous experience in these things :
If you focus 100% on what you want to do with your life, and I mean 100%, allowing no outside influences, nobody trying to change your mind or shut you down, and most importantly not allowing yourself to shut yourself down, you will do exactly what you want to do in life.
Your mindset and your focus is the key. We talked long ago on the "money factor", and the bills an artist must pay.
But take it from me - and I live in Los Angeles, a city with ultra high expenses - if you just focus all your Intent on what you want to do, then that is exactly what will happen.
Hold your Intent inside you, and pay close attention to the many nuances of how your Intent connects with the world. Use the Universe as your channel, and bounce things off of the sky. Bounce your thoughts and intentions out into the sky, and let them rebound back to you, because it's no joke.
This is how things work. This is the energy of The Individual. This is how you get what you desire.
It takes patience, but it's the only way to go. And it is guaranteed.
See you in the morning. xoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxo :):)
His sudden death affected Andrzej Wajda very much. Cybulski has been his favorite actor, his star. So he decided to make a movie about him, by making a movie about a film crew, and the film's director and actors. They are all working on a movie, but their star is missing. They keep shooting, with the director character subbing as a stunt double for the missing star. They even shoot a "train scene" in which the star (subbed by the director as stunt double) falls under a train. The actual movie, the one we are watching onscreen, is edited and scripted in a stream-of-consciousness flow, so it is not until later that we discover that they only added the "train scene" after finally discovering the whereabouts of their missing star. The news reaches the crew that he has died in just such a way, and the "train scene", which is shown to the movie audience at the film's beginning, is actually being added at the end of the "movie in the story".
The other main focus is on the individual actors in the cast of the Interior Movie. They are all superficial, in love with each other and even more in love with themselves. It seems to be Wajda's comment on what we can call the Cinematic Family that develops on any shoot, because of the closeness in proximity of director, actors and crew, and time spent together in intense, emotional artistic creation. But in the case of actors, Wadja suggests that in real life, no emotion can ever be trusted to be entirely real, because they are trained to "act out" emotions, and so what is real? Are they acting or being genuine?
Only the mythical Star (Cybulski) was genuine. He had a jacket, found by another actor in the Interior Movie, that had a button pinned to it that said "I Am A Genius", which was Wajda's way of paying his late friend an ultimate compliment.
Zbigniew Cybulski did have all the makings of a "rock n' roll" big time charisma movie star ala James Dean, from the era of the late 50s through the 60s.
He was worth such a tribute movie. The main problem for me was, quite simply, the dialogue. Everything else was great : the superficial, neurotic relationships between the actors on set (typical movie shoot), the search for the missing star, etc. The story itself was very good, and the cinematography at times reached heights of true originality. Near the end of the film, there is a lengthy shot of a burning orange setting Sun, as seen out of a moving car window, that to me is one of the greatest camera shots I've ever seen.
But the dialogue was a problem for me. The actors talk in bits and pieces of disjointed sentences, all the way through the movie. At times, it seems as if they are spouting non-sequiturs. This is all supposed to be artful in the tradition of free form European art cinema of the 1960s, and I suppose if I saw the film again, it might be less difficult to deal with. But on first viewing, the dialogue was so rapid (Polish language is spoken ultra-fast) and the subtitles went by so quickly, and the snippets of sentences did not tie together in any coherent way, that it caused a disconnect for me.
I would call this a very good film nonetheless, but it was not an easy film to watch.
Great as a work of Art Cinema, but trying as a story, due to the stream-of-consciousness dialogue.
Let's give it a single Thumbs Up then, and a recommendation to see it, but with the aforementioned caveats. See it in memory of Cybulski! ///
Elizabeth, I saw a post this morning, via Steve, about looking for jobs. He is looking for sound mixing jobs, but I am guessing that you may have meant it in reference to yourself, if you read last night's blog and were responding to my message to you. I mentioned before that I can't tell if you read or not since you moved, because when you still lived at home, I always saw the "Macintosh" show up in my Blogger stats most days. I have no idea how stats work, and I know zip about computers, but I think that if a person were reading the blog from an iPhone or something that wasn't "plugged in", that maybe no stat would show up. Like last night - I wrote to you, the SB, and it seems like you responded, but there was no "Macintosh" in my stats today, so maybe you are reading on another medium.
At any rate, if you are reading, I know you are going to find plenty of jobs, and not just jobs but fulfilling artistic work. Just remember that patience is part of the process, and keep your focus and let nothing derail you. Keep in mind what you have already accomplished. I've seen the recent additions to your professional websites, and both sites look great.
I love The Red Dress section of course! And I see several Dress pictures that I haven't seen before, and all are fantastic. :)
In closing, for tonight anyway, I just want to say one thing, and I say it because I was born before you and therefore have previous experience in these things :
If you focus 100% on what you want to do with your life, and I mean 100%, allowing no outside influences, nobody trying to change your mind or shut you down, and most importantly not allowing yourself to shut yourself down, you will do exactly what you want to do in life.
Your mindset and your focus is the key. We talked long ago on the "money factor", and the bills an artist must pay.
But take it from me - and I live in Los Angeles, a city with ultra high expenses - if you just focus all your Intent on what you want to do, then that is exactly what will happen.
Hold your Intent inside you, and pay close attention to the many nuances of how your Intent connects with the world. Use the Universe as your channel, and bounce things off of the sky. Bounce your thoughts and intentions out into the sky, and let them rebound back to you, because it's no joke.
This is how things work. This is the energy of The Individual. This is how you get what you desire.
It takes patience, but it's the only way to go. And it is guaranteed.
See you in the morning. xoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Thursday, February 22, 2018
"Ulzana's Raid" + Most 1970s Westerns Suck + Hey SB! :)
Tonight I watched a classic Western called "Ulzana's Raid" (1972), starring our old pal Burt Lahn-cahs-tah as an aging frontier scout in Arizona assigned to help a U.S.Army Cavalry group (stationed at a nearby fort) track down and capture, or kill, a renegade band of Apache Indians, who have killed several families of white settlers, burned their homes down and stolen their horses. The Apaches are led by Ulzana of the title, and he and his warriors are ruthless. This film was made in the early '70s, at a time when realism was being depicted onscreen. As an aside, I just saw, on TCM the other night, the ending to "Bonnie And Clyde", which was released in 1967. That was 51 years ago, and the ending to that movie is more graphic (and thus realistic) than much of what you will see even nowdays. Realism in movies is not always a good thing, especially where violence is concerned. It can often be gratuitous, but in "Bonnie And Clyde" I think that Arthur Penn wanted to achieve a "death scene" for B&C that was as close to what actually happened as he could get. Perhaps he used newspaper reports of the shootout, or FBI records, I don't know. But it was extremely realistic in the film. It looked pretty much like what you would think it would look like in real life. Not for the squeamish, in other words.
I think "B&C" the movie was considered to be the first to go to that extent of violent realism. Then came "The Wild Bunch" in 1969. A huge deal was made out of the realistic violence in that movie, and it was very realistic, filmed in a slow, twisting ballet by Sam Peckinpah. The only problem with "The Wild Bunch" is that it isn't a very good movie (go back and watch it if you don't believe me), but because of it's popularity it inspired a great many "realistic" Westerns in the early 70s that almost all sucked. Directors became fascinated by the violence of the Old West, and - with the newly established cinematic and cultural liberation to show graphic violence onscreen - they made gory violence a staple of 1970s westerns, which were shot in color with an emphasis on the color red, if you get my drift. The story in those latter day Westerns was given a back seat, and the movies were all style and no substance.
I am a fan of Westerns that were made from the late 40s through the 50s, with a few in the 30s and a handful in the early 60s as bookends. My preference for Westerns is black and white, because as I always say, black and white creates a mythical situation by removing the "everyday color of life" from the picture. What you are left with, in black and white, is Pure Image.
I am off on a tangent, but I meant to reinforce why I don't care for later period Westerns. The Clint Eastwood Westerns also are not very good (sacreligious, I know, but true) and "Unforgiven", which is considered a classic like "Wild Bunch", is downright terrible.
Which brings me back to "Ulzana's Raid". It is a straight up classic because the focus is not on violence, even though the script features a lot of dialogue about the savagery of the Apaches, and even though there are some graphic color scenes of that violence. The focus, instead, is on the human stories within - just like in classic 1950s Westerns - and in this case there are many such stories on display, the main ones being Lahn-cahs-tah's weary but resolute Scout, who knows the ways of the Apache, and young Army Lieutenant Bruce Davison, the son of a minister, who feels that the Apache would change their ways if they were treated in a Christian manner.
There is a great story in "Ulzana's Raid", which makes it a rare exception to the rule of crummy 1970s Westerns. And it is filmed exceptionally well by director Aldrich.
Two huge Thumbs Up, and hooray for me that I saw another Western that I hadn't seen. :)
I've been meaning to Say Hey to Elizabeth, and so I will do it now. Elizabeth, I don't know if you are out there anymore. You haven't made a post on your own FB in a month, and though I do see a few "posts you like" every other day or so, things seem to be quite a lot different these days as compared to past years. That's why I've been writing mostly about my own thoughts and experiences - weird though they may be - instead of addressing the nightly blog to you, the SB.
It's only because you haven't been around. I know that since you moved to Chicago, things have been different. I know John is in the picture, and so, if that is the case in a permanent way I say congrats to you guys.
But I am still here if you need me, or even if you don't need me but just feel like posting something, lol.
You will always be The SB to me, and I have been on your side since the "Autre Temps" video, six years ago.
I always liked it when I could write in response to a creative endeavor you were working on. And I always enjoyed our correspondence, in the unique way that we developed it.
This is all just a way of saying "I'm still here for you". I hope you are still working on your music.
xoxoxoxoxo :):)
I think "B&C" the movie was considered to be the first to go to that extent of violent realism. Then came "The Wild Bunch" in 1969. A huge deal was made out of the realistic violence in that movie, and it was very realistic, filmed in a slow, twisting ballet by Sam Peckinpah. The only problem with "The Wild Bunch" is that it isn't a very good movie (go back and watch it if you don't believe me), but because of it's popularity it inspired a great many "realistic" Westerns in the early 70s that almost all sucked. Directors became fascinated by the violence of the Old West, and - with the newly established cinematic and cultural liberation to show graphic violence onscreen - they made gory violence a staple of 1970s westerns, which were shot in color with an emphasis on the color red, if you get my drift. The story in those latter day Westerns was given a back seat, and the movies were all style and no substance.
I am a fan of Westerns that were made from the late 40s through the 50s, with a few in the 30s and a handful in the early 60s as bookends. My preference for Westerns is black and white, because as I always say, black and white creates a mythical situation by removing the "everyday color of life" from the picture. What you are left with, in black and white, is Pure Image.
I am off on a tangent, but I meant to reinforce why I don't care for later period Westerns. The Clint Eastwood Westerns also are not very good (sacreligious, I know, but true) and "Unforgiven", which is considered a classic like "Wild Bunch", is downright terrible.
Which brings me back to "Ulzana's Raid". It is a straight up classic because the focus is not on violence, even though the script features a lot of dialogue about the savagery of the Apaches, and even though there are some graphic color scenes of that violence. The focus, instead, is on the human stories within - just like in classic 1950s Westerns - and in this case there are many such stories on display, the main ones being Lahn-cahs-tah's weary but resolute Scout, who knows the ways of the Apache, and young Army Lieutenant Bruce Davison, the son of a minister, who feels that the Apache would change their ways if they were treated in a Christian manner.
There is a great story in "Ulzana's Raid", which makes it a rare exception to the rule of crummy 1970s Westerns. And it is filmed exceptionally well by director Aldrich.
Two huge Thumbs Up, and hooray for me that I saw another Western that I hadn't seen. :)
I've been meaning to Say Hey to Elizabeth, and so I will do it now. Elizabeth, I don't know if you are out there anymore. You haven't made a post on your own FB in a month, and though I do see a few "posts you like" every other day or so, things seem to be quite a lot different these days as compared to past years. That's why I've been writing mostly about my own thoughts and experiences - weird though they may be - instead of addressing the nightly blog to you, the SB.
It's only because you haven't been around. I know that since you moved to Chicago, things have been different. I know John is in the picture, and so, if that is the case in a permanent way I say congrats to you guys.
But I am still here if you need me, or even if you don't need me but just feel like posting something, lol.
You will always be The SB to me, and I have been on your side since the "Autre Temps" video, six years ago.
I always liked it when I could write in response to a creative endeavor you were working on. And I always enjoyed our correspondence, in the unique way that we developed it.
This is all just a way of saying "I'm still here for you". I hope you are still working on your music.
xoxoxoxoxo :):)
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
Finishing Up About "D" and His Involvement In !989 + State Of Shock
I just read back last night's blog, and I guess that I more or less covered the episode of "D" And His Starter Pistol. We know who ordered him to carry out his weird little escapade that afternoon, and we also know that is was a form of "play acting", in this case likely ritualistic or with some occult significance. I suppose that other pertinent questions could be asked, including :
1) Where and when did "D" get his Starter Pistol? After all, it's not something that the average person goes down to the gun store to buy, if you can even buy one at a gun store. Now, "D" worked as a carpenter in the motion picture business. He worked on sound stages and was in proximity to movie props. So it's quite possible he picked up his gun, which fired blanks, on a movie set.
2) How did "D" become caught in the web of The Feds, so that they could force him to carry out his task in the first place? I don't know the answer to this question, but I do know "D" made a few other appearances during the course of the 12 day 1989 events, and on only one of those occasions did he appear to be acting independently. That was at the Wilbur Wash house, just prior to it becoming the site of the Wilbur Wash Event. I know this stuff is ultra-confusing, seemingly nonsensical and boring, but I must press onward. One afternoon during the 12 days, "F" came over to 9032 Rathburn. "F", you will recall, was - with "D" - a close associate of the sociopathic Gary Patterson. "F" was an addict, you could see how deep he was in. But "D" was more clever. He didn't do a lot of hard drugs, just smoked pot and dealt coke in significant, if not enormous, amounts. But both were closely associated with Gary, and one Sunday afternoon (I think it was a Sunday), "F" came over to my house and asked me to accompany him on a pot run.
I was in a state of shock, having already been through the experience at Concord Square. I remember telling "F", "no, I can't go with you. I have to stay home. I think I had a heart attack".
You can be in a state of shock and still function. "State Of Shock" means that you are inside yourself, mostly numb to the outside world. But if someone is talking to you, you can respond coherently, and you can get in a car. What you become, in a state of shock, is an Automaton. You are on automatic pilot, walking and talking but very much shut down inside, and weakened in spirit. You are in survival mode : wanting to avoid any confrontation, but eager to please if confrontation or intimidation does arise. You will go along with Bad Guys when you are in a state of shock.
When you are in a state of shock, if someone asks you to do something you don't want to do, you might protest. But if they hammer the point, and keep asking, insisting.....
Then you will say "fuck it", and you will go with them, because you are weak and you are trying to take the path of least resistance.
That is what happened to me on the Sunday afternoon in question. It could have been the afternoon of September 3rd, or it could have been a week later, September 10th. It's very hard to figure out the sequence of events, because each one was so extreme, but my guess has always been that the Wilbur Wash event came near the end.
When I reluctantly accompanied "F" on his pot deal that day, I very quickly wished I had not, because "F" had brought me to a trap. His pal Gary Patterson was at the Wilbur Wash house, and so was "D".
"D" and Gary Patterson were in the process of making a deal, of trading a gun for cocaine. I was unfortunate enough to witness this, and so I paid a huge price yet again.
I wrote about all of this in my book in 2006, and it wipes me out to write about it again, but I have only me on my side. I have no one else but me. Because no one else gives a flying.......well, you know.
But I think that's where "D" got pulled in by The Feds, at The Wilbur Wash.
"D" is the only person, besides "K" way back in 1994, to make even a miniscule acknowledgement of What Happened In Northridge In September 1989. I don't count their statements as real acknowledgements because they were inadvertent. They did not come out, of their own volition, and say these things to me, but only said them because I pressured them.
As you might recall, "K" back in June '94 said to me, when I asked her what was happening that seemed so bizarre, "you know how sometimes in life, when something happens that you can't do anything about, that you just have to blow it off? Where something is bigger than you are? This is one of those things".
And in September 2006, I confronted "D" with my memory, of him and his starter pistol on that day in September 1989.
Me : "Don't you remember? You drove up, got out of your car, right there on the corner. You had a gym bag, and you pulled handcuffs out of it, and a gun".......I described the whole thing to him, while he became more and more nervous and distracted. He didn't make eye contact with me, but he did finally make a reply.
"It seems like a dream".
That was "D"'s reply to me, on that day in September 2006.
Less than a year later, he would deny ever making that statement, and would tell at least one person that "it never happened" and that "Adam has organic brain damage", which in his estimation from me taking drugs.
Kinda sounds like Trump, now in 2018, lashing out at his accusers as the noose tightens.
But I digress, and I am tired.
We will say goodbye to "D" for the time being, though we will soldier on with 1989, looking for new angles. I know it's super boring, but it's so important in the scheme of things.
See you in the morn. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
1) Where and when did "D" get his Starter Pistol? After all, it's not something that the average person goes down to the gun store to buy, if you can even buy one at a gun store. Now, "D" worked as a carpenter in the motion picture business. He worked on sound stages and was in proximity to movie props. So it's quite possible he picked up his gun, which fired blanks, on a movie set.
2) How did "D" become caught in the web of The Feds, so that they could force him to carry out his task in the first place? I don't know the answer to this question, but I do know "D" made a few other appearances during the course of the 12 day 1989 events, and on only one of those occasions did he appear to be acting independently. That was at the Wilbur Wash house, just prior to it becoming the site of the Wilbur Wash Event. I know this stuff is ultra-confusing, seemingly nonsensical and boring, but I must press onward. One afternoon during the 12 days, "F" came over to 9032 Rathburn. "F", you will recall, was - with "D" - a close associate of the sociopathic Gary Patterson. "F" was an addict, you could see how deep he was in. But "D" was more clever. He didn't do a lot of hard drugs, just smoked pot and dealt coke in significant, if not enormous, amounts. But both were closely associated with Gary, and one Sunday afternoon (I think it was a Sunday), "F" came over to my house and asked me to accompany him on a pot run.
I was in a state of shock, having already been through the experience at Concord Square. I remember telling "F", "no, I can't go with you. I have to stay home. I think I had a heart attack".
You can be in a state of shock and still function. "State Of Shock" means that you are inside yourself, mostly numb to the outside world. But if someone is talking to you, you can respond coherently, and you can get in a car. What you become, in a state of shock, is an Automaton. You are on automatic pilot, walking and talking but very much shut down inside, and weakened in spirit. You are in survival mode : wanting to avoid any confrontation, but eager to please if confrontation or intimidation does arise. You will go along with Bad Guys when you are in a state of shock.
When you are in a state of shock, if someone asks you to do something you don't want to do, you might protest. But if they hammer the point, and keep asking, insisting.....
Then you will say "fuck it", and you will go with them, because you are weak and you are trying to take the path of least resistance.
That is what happened to me on the Sunday afternoon in question. It could have been the afternoon of September 3rd, or it could have been a week later, September 10th. It's very hard to figure out the sequence of events, because each one was so extreme, but my guess has always been that the Wilbur Wash event came near the end.
When I reluctantly accompanied "F" on his pot deal that day, I very quickly wished I had not, because "F" had brought me to a trap. His pal Gary Patterson was at the Wilbur Wash house, and so was "D".
"D" and Gary Patterson were in the process of making a deal, of trading a gun for cocaine. I was unfortunate enough to witness this, and so I paid a huge price yet again.
I wrote about all of this in my book in 2006, and it wipes me out to write about it again, but I have only me on my side. I have no one else but me. Because no one else gives a flying.......well, you know.
But I think that's where "D" got pulled in by The Feds, at The Wilbur Wash.
"D" is the only person, besides "K" way back in 1994, to make even a miniscule acknowledgement of What Happened In Northridge In September 1989. I don't count their statements as real acknowledgements because they were inadvertent. They did not come out, of their own volition, and say these things to me, but only said them because I pressured them.
As you might recall, "K" back in June '94 said to me, when I asked her what was happening that seemed so bizarre, "you know how sometimes in life, when something happens that you can't do anything about, that you just have to blow it off? Where something is bigger than you are? This is one of those things".
And in September 2006, I confronted "D" with my memory, of him and his starter pistol on that day in September 1989.
Me : "Don't you remember? You drove up, got out of your car, right there on the corner. You had a gym bag, and you pulled handcuffs out of it, and a gun".......I described the whole thing to him, while he became more and more nervous and distracted. He didn't make eye contact with me, but he did finally make a reply.
"It seems like a dream".
That was "D"'s reply to me, on that day in September 2006.
Less than a year later, he would deny ever making that statement, and would tell at least one person that "it never happened" and that "Adam has organic brain damage", which in his estimation from me taking drugs.
Kinda sounds like Trump, now in 2018, lashing out at his accusers as the noose tightens.
But I digress, and I am tired.
We will say goodbye to "D" for the time being, though we will soldier on with 1989, looking for new angles. I know it's super boring, but it's so important in the scheme of things.
See you in the morn. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
"Twin Peaks" + 1989 : "D" and The Ritualistic Play Acting Of Skull & Bones
Feeling much better today. My energy is back, the flu bug is toast, all that's left are the aftereffects : some congestion and a bit of creakiness in the joints that should be gone by tomorrow. Still no walk today. Thought it best to wait........and also because it's Fruh-HEE-zing outside.
Yessir, the L.A. Cold is finally upon us. Winter waited until mid-February to make an appearance and with any luck it will be a brief one.
Doggone it! I thought I was gonna escape the flu and I almost made it, and I thought I was gonna escape the cold........and I almost made it. :)
S'posed to get down to 32 degrees during the night, with wind chill factored in.
That's L.A. Cold, baby. I can do a few days of it, and a few winters back it was the norm (at least at night), but what makes it worse this year is that I thought we were gonna skate. We were sneakin' by, doing 80 degrees a week ago.
Where's the Wellness Formula for Winter? Inventors, Chemists, Whomever - get to work! ///
I watched Episode Two of "Twin Peaks" last night. A quick note to say that whenever I refer to "Twin Peaks" in ongoing current blogs I am referring to the 2017 version. I see that the first two episodes on the dvd were broadcast as a two hour premier when the new series debuted. I watched 'em seperate, but the effect was the same, I imagine. My takeaway is that, so far, this "Twin Peaks" is less folksy than the 1990 original, and quite a bit darker with spots of graphic violence. Not much cherry pie and damn good coffee thus far. Instead, it's been some steady plotting (maybe even more traditional tv plotting than the original) but overall it has been Very Weird and Dark. Many of the regulars are back, and the ones who bring your heart back to the old days the most - so far - are The Log Lady and Sheriff Hawk.
Well, now I am trying to describe the work of David Lynch, and I said I wouldn't do that, but man, it's a trip to see all these actors come back 27 years later. It's like a Time Warp, like the series has been running all this time, since 1990, but we haven't seen it until now.
I am fascinated by the back-and-forth of time, and the way that years and decades are identified with emotions. Time is a rubber band, and so are emotions, I suppose. Rubber bands stretch and contract, depending on how you pull on them, but they rarely break, thank God. Time and emotion, decades and changes, all running forwards, backwards and sideways through your heart and head. And with dreams in the middle, most nights if not every night. Folks don't figure their dreams into the equation of their lives, how dreams may effect or even be a part of their reality.
That's what makes Lynch unique. He knows that Dreams are part of an alternate reality of the Spirit. In his films, and in "Twin Peaks", he shows a decidedly dark side of the dream reality. We've all had nightmares, so we can relate. Lynch is only showing us that nightmares, in some cases (if you have ever experienced Night Terrors or Lucid Dreaming) are something not to be dismissed upon waking. Nor should beautiful dreams be let go of because they not only mean something but are part of something. Life is part waking, part dream state. Lynch shows you the full picture. ///
I probably should have gone right into 1989 and straight into my examination of "D" and the Starter Pistol. When I begin a blog with other subjects, I run out of gas by the time I get to 1989, and 1989 is one subject that must be written about with a full tank. Let me see if I can think of a thing or two, however.
The whole thing with "D" driving up to my house that day, right at the corner of Rathburn and Sunburst (please do a Google Street view of 9032 Rathburn), is that it was an exercise in play acting.
"D" didn't kill me, he just pretended to kill me. Now, he did make it "look real"; he used a starter pistol that fires blanks, and he even showed me that it was not a real gun. He asked me to "go along with it", which again was an effort to make the "execution" look "real". Truth be told, "D" was scared himself. He pulled off his job with feigned confidence. Had I not been in a state of shock myself, I'd have wondered what in the world he was doing. He told me - exact words - "sorry about this, but if I don't do it they'll kill me". And behind his determined and aggressive facade, "D" was frightened.
But of whom? We already know that "D" was deeply involved in cocaine, a rotten drug that is controlled at the highest levels by the world's most rotten and ruthless people. People like Eddie Nash.
But people like Eddie Nash, or even a minor-league lowlife like Gary Patterson, don't engage in play acting. If you haven't already Googled Eddie Nash, I suggest you do it now, and add "Wonderland Murders" into your search. Sorry to be so graphic, but these people don't do "play acting". They only do The Real Thing.
Therefore, the only people who could have forced "D" - and he was forced - to drive up to my curb and force me to participate in my own mock-"execution", would have been out old pals The Feds, and in particular "BC".
Here's the thing with The Feds. I am not talking now of The Feds you see on tv, in the news or for public consumption. I am talking about The Feds at the highest possible level of secrecy, dictated by whatever they perceive to be an emergency.
The Feds, in such a situation - and I am certain that there has never been a situation as extreme as 1989 - can do whatever they want to do. There is no jurisdiction that can stop them, because they are the highest jurisdiction, especially if they have in hand a Presidential Order.
A Presidential Order would even intimidate the Los Angeles Police Department, a very professional agency and extremely tough in their own right, but an agency that does not every day get a "stand-down" order signed by the President Of The United States.
A stand-down order, meaning, "we are going to be conducting an operation in your area so stay out of the way.
So that's the thing with The Feds, at their highest most secret level. They run the show.
They run the show, and they do it with such force and power that you cannot even comprehend it.
Someone like Eddie Nash, even as thoroughly evil as he is, is just an ant to them. They may step on him, or not, if he is useful, or maybe too much trouble to step on.
But the larger point for tonight is that who else would command "D" to engage in play-acting that afternoon? Who would force him to perform a bizarre, ritualistic mock execution of me?
I urge you again to do some Googling, into the occult rituals of Skull & Bones, the elite Yale organisation of which President Bush was a member. He was the President in 1989, and he would have had to sign any order that BC presented to the LAPD, or to anybody else during that 12 day period.
"D"'s mock-execution of me was a form of ritualistic play acting, just like they do in Skull & Bones, or in the Masons, at the highest levels. It's a form of game playing; "one point for my side, one point for your side". You see, the people from that echelon can use people like "D", or myself, as chess pieces if they wish, because they have the power to make a world-class police force stand aside.
And they can do that - make the LAPD stand aside - not only because they are The Feds, but because they have elite soldiers with them, and not only that, but because they have technology that will make your head spin, plain and simple.
I'm digressing a bit from "D"'s actions that afternoon, but I wanted to set a context for his appearance. He was scared himself that day - though he did a good job of faking it - and it was The Feds he was scared of, meaning (I assume) BC and the soldiers that were in town to shut the situation down, whatever situation it was. Something to do with drugs, and sex, and something way bigger than that.
That's who "D" meant, when he said to me "just go along with it". When he said, "sorry about this, but they are gonna kill me if I don't do it".
He didn't mean his cocaine bosses, who would not engage in play acting. He meant The Feds.
Who are into rituals as part of Skull and Bones and other occult training.
See you in the morn.
Yessir, the L.A. Cold is finally upon us. Winter waited until mid-February to make an appearance and with any luck it will be a brief one.
Doggone it! I thought I was gonna escape the flu and I almost made it, and I thought I was gonna escape the cold........and I almost made it. :)
S'posed to get down to 32 degrees during the night, with wind chill factored in.
That's L.A. Cold, baby. I can do a few days of it, and a few winters back it was the norm (at least at night), but what makes it worse this year is that I thought we were gonna skate. We were sneakin' by, doing 80 degrees a week ago.
Where's the Wellness Formula for Winter? Inventors, Chemists, Whomever - get to work! ///
I watched Episode Two of "Twin Peaks" last night. A quick note to say that whenever I refer to "Twin Peaks" in ongoing current blogs I am referring to the 2017 version. I see that the first two episodes on the dvd were broadcast as a two hour premier when the new series debuted. I watched 'em seperate, but the effect was the same, I imagine. My takeaway is that, so far, this "Twin Peaks" is less folksy than the 1990 original, and quite a bit darker with spots of graphic violence. Not much cherry pie and damn good coffee thus far. Instead, it's been some steady plotting (maybe even more traditional tv plotting than the original) but overall it has been Very Weird and Dark. Many of the regulars are back, and the ones who bring your heart back to the old days the most - so far - are The Log Lady and Sheriff Hawk.
Well, now I am trying to describe the work of David Lynch, and I said I wouldn't do that, but man, it's a trip to see all these actors come back 27 years later. It's like a Time Warp, like the series has been running all this time, since 1990, but we haven't seen it until now.
I am fascinated by the back-and-forth of time, and the way that years and decades are identified with emotions. Time is a rubber band, and so are emotions, I suppose. Rubber bands stretch and contract, depending on how you pull on them, but they rarely break, thank God. Time and emotion, decades and changes, all running forwards, backwards and sideways through your heart and head. And with dreams in the middle, most nights if not every night. Folks don't figure their dreams into the equation of their lives, how dreams may effect or even be a part of their reality.
That's what makes Lynch unique. He knows that Dreams are part of an alternate reality of the Spirit. In his films, and in "Twin Peaks", he shows a decidedly dark side of the dream reality. We've all had nightmares, so we can relate. Lynch is only showing us that nightmares, in some cases (if you have ever experienced Night Terrors or Lucid Dreaming) are something not to be dismissed upon waking. Nor should beautiful dreams be let go of because they not only mean something but are part of something. Life is part waking, part dream state. Lynch shows you the full picture. ///
I probably should have gone right into 1989 and straight into my examination of "D" and the Starter Pistol. When I begin a blog with other subjects, I run out of gas by the time I get to 1989, and 1989 is one subject that must be written about with a full tank. Let me see if I can think of a thing or two, however.
The whole thing with "D" driving up to my house that day, right at the corner of Rathburn and Sunburst (please do a Google Street view of 9032 Rathburn), is that it was an exercise in play acting.
"D" didn't kill me, he just pretended to kill me. Now, he did make it "look real"; he used a starter pistol that fires blanks, and he even showed me that it was not a real gun. He asked me to "go along with it", which again was an effort to make the "execution" look "real". Truth be told, "D" was scared himself. He pulled off his job with feigned confidence. Had I not been in a state of shock myself, I'd have wondered what in the world he was doing. He told me - exact words - "sorry about this, but if I don't do it they'll kill me". And behind his determined and aggressive facade, "D" was frightened.
But of whom? We already know that "D" was deeply involved in cocaine, a rotten drug that is controlled at the highest levels by the world's most rotten and ruthless people. People like Eddie Nash.
But people like Eddie Nash, or even a minor-league lowlife like Gary Patterson, don't engage in play acting. If you haven't already Googled Eddie Nash, I suggest you do it now, and add "Wonderland Murders" into your search. Sorry to be so graphic, but these people don't do "play acting". They only do The Real Thing.
Therefore, the only people who could have forced "D" - and he was forced - to drive up to my curb and force me to participate in my own mock-"execution", would have been out old pals The Feds, and in particular "BC".
Here's the thing with The Feds. I am not talking now of The Feds you see on tv, in the news or for public consumption. I am talking about The Feds at the highest possible level of secrecy, dictated by whatever they perceive to be an emergency.
The Feds, in such a situation - and I am certain that there has never been a situation as extreme as 1989 - can do whatever they want to do. There is no jurisdiction that can stop them, because they are the highest jurisdiction, especially if they have in hand a Presidential Order.
A Presidential Order would even intimidate the Los Angeles Police Department, a very professional agency and extremely tough in their own right, but an agency that does not every day get a "stand-down" order signed by the President Of The United States.
A stand-down order, meaning, "we are going to be conducting an operation in your area so stay out of the way.
So that's the thing with The Feds, at their highest most secret level. They run the show.
They run the show, and they do it with such force and power that you cannot even comprehend it.
Someone like Eddie Nash, even as thoroughly evil as he is, is just an ant to them. They may step on him, or not, if he is useful, or maybe too much trouble to step on.
But the larger point for tonight is that who else would command "D" to engage in play-acting that afternoon? Who would force him to perform a bizarre, ritualistic mock execution of me?
I urge you again to do some Googling, into the occult rituals of Skull & Bones, the elite Yale organisation of which President Bush was a member. He was the President in 1989, and he would have had to sign any order that BC presented to the LAPD, or to anybody else during that 12 day period.
"D"'s mock-execution of me was a form of ritualistic play acting, just like they do in Skull & Bones, or in the Masons, at the highest levels. It's a form of game playing; "one point for my side, one point for your side". You see, the people from that echelon can use people like "D", or myself, as chess pieces if they wish, because they have the power to make a world-class police force stand aside.
And they can do that - make the LAPD stand aside - not only because they are The Feds, but because they have elite soldiers with them, and not only that, but because they have technology that will make your head spin, plain and simple.
I'm digressing a bit from "D"'s actions that afternoon, but I wanted to set a context for his appearance. He was scared himself that day - though he did a good job of faking it - and it was The Feds he was scared of, meaning (I assume) BC and the soldiers that were in town to shut the situation down, whatever situation it was. Something to do with drugs, and sex, and something way bigger than that.
That's who "D" meant, when he said to me "just go along with it". When he said, "sorry about this, but they are gonna kill me if I don't do it".
He didn't mean his cocaine bosses, who would not engage in play acting. He meant The Feds.
Who are into rituals as part of Skull and Bones and other occult training.
See you in the morn.
Monday, February 19, 2018
"Beware Of Mr. Baker" + My Friends "D" and "F" and Cocaine
The Flu is still hanging in there, like a guy who is taking too long to finish his last beer at closing time. He doesn't wanna leave and the bartender is getting ready to throw him out. I think today will really be the last day of symptoms, and then by tomorrow I'll be mostly back to normal except for lingering congestion, which takes a couple extra days to clear up. I'm itchin' to feel like myself again. I haven't even done my walk for three days now (Good Lordy Moses, Ad!)
"Ad has gotta get back out there" - You.
That could be considered The General You or Any Specific You who said the above, and I certainly agree with You, so screw the flu. Tonight it's out the door.
No church this morn, as previously noted. Just more rest & reading. I did watch a movie - a good sign that things are getting back to normal - and it was a documentary that I'm sure you've heard of : "Beware Of Mr. Baker" (2012), about the life and career of Ginger Baker, the great drummer from Cream. This film got a lot of publicity when it was released because it was accompanied by a lengthy interview, maybe from Rolling Stone (not sure), in which Baker lived up to his image of an irascible tyrant and provided many controversial quotes about his musical peers and against the person who was interviewing him. I was expecting the same persona in the film, but he is really very calm for the most part, as he reflects on his life and career. Except at the end, when he hits the filmmaker in the nose with his cane.
What I was most impressed with is his drumming. As I have mentioned numerous times, I have been listening to music since I was a small child, and by the time I was 7, I had my transistor radio planted firmly aside my ear for the better part of each day. There was a new band being played in the Summer of 1967 : Cream. I was most affected by the song itself - "White Room" - and I loved the sound of the guitar, but as was mentioned in the movie tonight, you couldn't help notice the drumming in the song because the drummer wasn't just keeping a simple beat. He was playing "around" the music. It sounded like jungle drums, and as it turns out, that's exactly what it was because Ginger Baker's major influence was African drumming.
There are many reasons to see this movie. One of them is to see the unpleasant "character" that was featured in the Rolling Stone interview, but that side of Baker is not much on display here. Mostly, his nasty side is related by others close to him, in stories from the past. He is an old man now, and a former heroin addict. Life has taken a toll on Mr. Baker, but he is tougher than nails, and that is the real story. That, and his absolute love of drumming and music. I've been looking for live footage of Cream recently, from their original incarnation in '66 to '68, and I've been very impressed with what I've seen, astounded even. The live playing of those three guys set a standard that few have matched in the years since. It sounds like controlled chaos, or a jet engine taking flight. So that's "Mr. Baker". Watch it if you have an interest in the history of rock music, or even as a story of human interest. I found Ginger to be a gentleman to have sympathy for, rather than to be shocked by.
I very much want to get back to my examination of "D" and his Starter Pistol, and my overall examination of the minutiae of what I am now referring to as "1989". It seems that drugs play a large part in the roles of my friends in the overall scenario. I won't go into depth tonight, but I want to say that "D" has always been my friend. That is not in question here, but at some point in "D"'s life, "D" got involved in some serious cocaine dealing. "D" became involved with a bigger dealer named Gary Patterson, whose name I mention because I name all violent criminals in the 1989 scenario. Gary Patterson is one such person, though he is not important tonight. What is important is the cocaine, and where it was coming from.
In the 1980s, I lived a naive life. I thought I was the "hardcore" one in our crowd, doing speed in the early 80s, and then taking diet pills and smoking pot and drinking gallons of beer for the rest of the decade. But in retrospect I was nowhere near as hardcore as some of my friends were. In fact I was a straight arrow in comparison.
"D" dealt cocaine out of a music studio he rented in Sepulveda. He got his cocaine supply from the aforementioned Gary Patterson, a sociopathic drug dealer who figured very large in the events of September 1989. It was rumored at the time, by another friend of mine, "F", that Gary got his supply of cocaine from a person named Eddie Nash.
Google "Eddie Nash" and see what you get.
My friend "F" was even closer to Gary Patterson than was "D". Both "F" and "D" were heavily involved in cocaine in the 1980s. "F" was addicted to it, and "D" was selling it to a slew of regular customers. And both got their coke from Gary Patterson, who very likely got his larger supply from Eddie Nash, or someone just a notch or two down his supply line.
As I mentioned, I thought I was hardcore because I snorted speed in my early twenties. But I was nothing compared to my buddies, who I don't see much of anymore, and who will not talk about 1989 at all.
We will be discussing "D" and his Starter Pistol very soon, perhaps tomorrow night.
See you in the morn. xoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
"Ad has gotta get back out there" - You.
That could be considered The General You or Any Specific You who said the above, and I certainly agree with You, so screw the flu. Tonight it's out the door.
No church this morn, as previously noted. Just more rest & reading. I did watch a movie - a good sign that things are getting back to normal - and it was a documentary that I'm sure you've heard of : "Beware Of Mr. Baker" (2012), about the life and career of Ginger Baker, the great drummer from Cream. This film got a lot of publicity when it was released because it was accompanied by a lengthy interview, maybe from Rolling Stone (not sure), in which Baker lived up to his image of an irascible tyrant and provided many controversial quotes about his musical peers and against the person who was interviewing him. I was expecting the same persona in the film, but he is really very calm for the most part, as he reflects on his life and career. Except at the end, when he hits the filmmaker in the nose with his cane.
What I was most impressed with is his drumming. As I have mentioned numerous times, I have been listening to music since I was a small child, and by the time I was 7, I had my transistor radio planted firmly aside my ear for the better part of each day. There was a new band being played in the Summer of 1967 : Cream. I was most affected by the song itself - "White Room" - and I loved the sound of the guitar, but as was mentioned in the movie tonight, you couldn't help notice the drumming in the song because the drummer wasn't just keeping a simple beat. He was playing "around" the music. It sounded like jungle drums, and as it turns out, that's exactly what it was because Ginger Baker's major influence was African drumming.
There are many reasons to see this movie. One of them is to see the unpleasant "character" that was featured in the Rolling Stone interview, but that side of Baker is not much on display here. Mostly, his nasty side is related by others close to him, in stories from the past. He is an old man now, and a former heroin addict. Life has taken a toll on Mr. Baker, but he is tougher than nails, and that is the real story. That, and his absolute love of drumming and music. I've been looking for live footage of Cream recently, from their original incarnation in '66 to '68, and I've been very impressed with what I've seen, astounded even. The live playing of those three guys set a standard that few have matched in the years since. It sounds like controlled chaos, or a jet engine taking flight. So that's "Mr. Baker". Watch it if you have an interest in the history of rock music, or even as a story of human interest. I found Ginger to be a gentleman to have sympathy for, rather than to be shocked by.
I very much want to get back to my examination of "D" and his Starter Pistol, and my overall examination of the minutiae of what I am now referring to as "1989". It seems that drugs play a large part in the roles of my friends in the overall scenario. I won't go into depth tonight, but I want to say that "D" has always been my friend. That is not in question here, but at some point in "D"'s life, "D" got involved in some serious cocaine dealing. "D" became involved with a bigger dealer named Gary Patterson, whose name I mention because I name all violent criminals in the 1989 scenario. Gary Patterson is one such person, though he is not important tonight. What is important is the cocaine, and where it was coming from.
In the 1980s, I lived a naive life. I thought I was the "hardcore" one in our crowd, doing speed in the early 80s, and then taking diet pills and smoking pot and drinking gallons of beer for the rest of the decade. But in retrospect I was nowhere near as hardcore as some of my friends were. In fact I was a straight arrow in comparison.
"D" dealt cocaine out of a music studio he rented in Sepulveda. He got his cocaine supply from the aforementioned Gary Patterson, a sociopathic drug dealer who figured very large in the events of September 1989. It was rumored at the time, by another friend of mine, "F", that Gary got his supply of cocaine from a person named Eddie Nash.
Google "Eddie Nash" and see what you get.
My friend "F" was even closer to Gary Patterson than was "D". Both "F" and "D" were heavily involved in cocaine in the 1980s. "F" was addicted to it, and "D" was selling it to a slew of regular customers. And both got their coke from Gary Patterson, who very likely got his larger supply from Eddie Nash, or someone just a notch or two down his supply line.
As I mentioned, I thought I was hardcore because I snorted speed in my early twenties. But I was nothing compared to my buddies, who I don't see much of anymore, and who will not talk about 1989 at all.
We will be discussing "D" and his Starter Pistol very soon, perhaps tomorrow night.
See you in the morn. xoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Sunday, February 18, 2018
"The Monuments Of Mars" & The Stuff On The Moon, Too.
Still doing The Flu. I think today was the worst of it, though, and I hope to be in recovery mode tomorrow. I will not be going to church in the morning because I need to rest, and anyway my voice sounds like a frog right now, so better that I sit this one out and return next week at full strength.
Still no movies or tv shows to report. My position today was mostly horizontal, which is not so good for watching but very good for reading, which I did a lot of for the second day in a row.
I finished "Weird Scenes Inside The Canyon", and once again I say it is a must-read. I am now almost finished with "The Monuments Of Mars" by Richard Hoagland, a book with a scientific emphasis rather than a storytelling one, though it does tell a mindboggling story. It was originally written by Hoagland in 1987 and has been updated several times since then. My copy is the fourth edition, published in 1996, now 22 years old. I have been following the story of The Face On Mars since 1997, when I first heard of it. It was discovered in 1976. The book details, over the course of 500 pages, Hoagland's groundbreaking research and his mathematical skills and intuition that led to his geometric mapping of the "city" of Cydonia on the planet Mars.
In the above paragraph I note the 1987 original publication date of the book. The first photograph of The Face On Mars was taken in 1976, by the Viking orbiter. So this is what bugs me : 42 years have gone by, and it's very obvious to anyone with a brain and two eyeballs that something very interesting is up there on Mars. And not only on Mars, but on the Moon as well, and maybe even moreso on the Moon.
There are artifacts on both planetary bodies, plain and simple. Zero Doubt.
So why the 42 year (and counting) wait? Why the wait?
It's just like with gun control. Why the wait, when the answer or solution is obvious?
It's because we are dealing with people who want to control, and who desperately do not want to lose control. Those people are frantic. The gun people are always frantic and hysterical because they live in a world of fear; they desperately need their guns because of their fear of a peaceful world. It's a complex psychological problem they are dealing with, but the basis lies in their fear of openness.
The gun people have a mindset that is extremely tight and battened down, barricaded. Nothing can be discussed. They hold fast to their fear, which is the psychological underpinning of their lives.
I didn't mean to go off on a tangent about gun control, but I wanted to illustrate a similar mindset of The Absolute Need To Control when it comes to Mars and The Moon. NASA (whom in general I've always been a huge fan of) has, as an organisation, the same need to control a situation and to deny the obvious as do the gun people.
I have written of what I call The Dominator personality, and I think it is a frightful thing. We are living in a time when most people, be they smart, stupid or in between, can see what is really happening.
Things that are obvious to the majority of citizens. But what happens is that A Dominator shuts down any possibility of change.
Now, the NRA, and it's supporters, are a group of people, so what I mean by a Dominator has to do with a mindset, a group mentality, and to be honest I believe that, in the fear-based groups of people, who focus on fear in their everyday lives and do not experience the everyday beauty of the world, I believe that we are dealing with Demonology.
There are demons in the world, plain and simple.
Why do I, despite my loneliness at growing older and being alone, look for beauty in the world as a first resort? Why do I every day notice trees and sky, and dogs and happy people, and a whole bunch of other things. Because, though I have my difficulties in the world, I am not affected by demons.
Many folks are, however, and it is no joke.
And to get back to the original subject, this is the same psychological issue that has affected the release of information - for 42 years now - of what we really know about Mars, and The Moon.
I said earlier in the blog, "why wait"? Why delay for 42 years an examination of Cydonia, which Richard Hoagland has proven long ago to be an area on Mars where obvious artificial structures are situated.
And the reason is, The Need To Control. The Need To Dominate.
Both of these needs spring from deep fear. In the gun people, it is a very complicated mentality that, if I were so inclined I could explain to you, but it would take me many blogs. So, to be short, I say that they are enclosed within themselves, in a tightening coil of fear of openness.
The "need to control" of NASA, and of the politicians who control them, is equally fear-based.
Listen up : we have all been looking at the photos of The Face and Cydonia for decades now. We have even seen many other mechanical artifacts in the photographs from Mars since the latest expeditions there by robot landers since the year 2000. And we have seen structures on The Moon which make some of the Mars pictures pale in comparison.
We know that people of some type once lived and built things on The Moon and Mars.
So why continue to keep wasting everyone's time?
In the old days of scientific advancement, there was no holding back. When Einstein or Galileo or Newton made a discovery, they announced it.
So why now, when discoveries have been made, or solutions proposed in the matter of guns, is there no forward progress?
It is because of fear, and ultimately because of demonology, which is a spiritual problem that we would do well to study, because it is destroying our country. As always, I could "talk it" better than I can write it, because of the limitation of my typing ability coupled with the late hour at which I write.
We live in an era when true progress, to take us to the next level, so that we can learn the real truth about human history and planetary civilizations, is being deliberately curtailed, just as a solution to the gun problem is being deliberately curtailed.
It is very important to understand what it is that motivates people who are driven to extremes to prevent solutions to deadly problems, and people who would like to prevent the human race from finding out about it's history and possible origins.
We who like trees, dogs and people must stand up for our side, too. ///
See you in the morn. :):) xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxox
Still no movies or tv shows to report. My position today was mostly horizontal, which is not so good for watching but very good for reading, which I did a lot of for the second day in a row.
I finished "Weird Scenes Inside The Canyon", and once again I say it is a must-read. I am now almost finished with "The Monuments Of Mars" by Richard Hoagland, a book with a scientific emphasis rather than a storytelling one, though it does tell a mindboggling story. It was originally written by Hoagland in 1987 and has been updated several times since then. My copy is the fourth edition, published in 1996, now 22 years old. I have been following the story of The Face On Mars since 1997, when I first heard of it. It was discovered in 1976. The book details, over the course of 500 pages, Hoagland's groundbreaking research and his mathematical skills and intuition that led to his geometric mapping of the "city" of Cydonia on the planet Mars.
In the above paragraph I note the 1987 original publication date of the book. The first photograph of The Face On Mars was taken in 1976, by the Viking orbiter. So this is what bugs me : 42 years have gone by, and it's very obvious to anyone with a brain and two eyeballs that something very interesting is up there on Mars. And not only on Mars, but on the Moon as well, and maybe even moreso on the Moon.
There are artifacts on both planetary bodies, plain and simple. Zero Doubt.
So why the 42 year (and counting) wait? Why the wait?
It's just like with gun control. Why the wait, when the answer or solution is obvious?
It's because we are dealing with people who want to control, and who desperately do not want to lose control. Those people are frantic. The gun people are always frantic and hysterical because they live in a world of fear; they desperately need their guns because of their fear of a peaceful world. It's a complex psychological problem they are dealing with, but the basis lies in their fear of openness.
The gun people have a mindset that is extremely tight and battened down, barricaded. Nothing can be discussed. They hold fast to their fear, which is the psychological underpinning of their lives.
I didn't mean to go off on a tangent about gun control, but I wanted to illustrate a similar mindset of The Absolute Need To Control when it comes to Mars and The Moon. NASA (whom in general I've always been a huge fan of) has, as an organisation, the same need to control a situation and to deny the obvious as do the gun people.
I have written of what I call The Dominator personality, and I think it is a frightful thing. We are living in a time when most people, be they smart, stupid or in between, can see what is really happening.
Things that are obvious to the majority of citizens. But what happens is that A Dominator shuts down any possibility of change.
Now, the NRA, and it's supporters, are a group of people, so what I mean by a Dominator has to do with a mindset, a group mentality, and to be honest I believe that, in the fear-based groups of people, who focus on fear in their everyday lives and do not experience the everyday beauty of the world, I believe that we are dealing with Demonology.
There are demons in the world, plain and simple.
Why do I, despite my loneliness at growing older and being alone, look for beauty in the world as a first resort? Why do I every day notice trees and sky, and dogs and happy people, and a whole bunch of other things. Because, though I have my difficulties in the world, I am not affected by demons.
Many folks are, however, and it is no joke.
And to get back to the original subject, this is the same psychological issue that has affected the release of information - for 42 years now - of what we really know about Mars, and The Moon.
I said earlier in the blog, "why wait"? Why delay for 42 years an examination of Cydonia, which Richard Hoagland has proven long ago to be an area on Mars where obvious artificial structures are situated.
And the reason is, The Need To Control. The Need To Dominate.
Both of these needs spring from deep fear. In the gun people, it is a very complicated mentality that, if I were so inclined I could explain to you, but it would take me many blogs. So, to be short, I say that they are enclosed within themselves, in a tightening coil of fear of openness.
The "need to control" of NASA, and of the politicians who control them, is equally fear-based.
Listen up : we have all been looking at the photos of The Face and Cydonia for decades now. We have even seen many other mechanical artifacts in the photographs from Mars since the latest expeditions there by robot landers since the year 2000. And we have seen structures on The Moon which make some of the Mars pictures pale in comparison.
We know that people of some type once lived and built things on The Moon and Mars.
So why continue to keep wasting everyone's time?
In the old days of scientific advancement, there was no holding back. When Einstein or Galileo or Newton made a discovery, they announced it.
So why now, when discoveries have been made, or solutions proposed in the matter of guns, is there no forward progress?
It is because of fear, and ultimately because of demonology, which is a spiritual problem that we would do well to study, because it is destroying our country. As always, I could "talk it" better than I can write it, because of the limitation of my typing ability coupled with the late hour at which I write.
We live in an era when true progress, to take us to the next level, so that we can learn the real truth about human history and planetary civilizations, is being deliberately curtailed, just as a solution to the gun problem is being deliberately curtailed.
It is very important to understand what it is that motivates people who are driven to extremes to prevent solutions to deadly problems, and people who would like to prevent the human race from finding out about it's history and possible origins.
We who like trees, dogs and people must stand up for our side, too. ///
See you in the morn. :):) xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxox
Saturday, February 17, 2018
The Flu Wins (for now) + "Weird Scenes Inside The Canyon", An Absolute Must-Read + 1989 Preview of "D"
Sigh. I mentioned last night that I was hoping to be germ-free by this morning, though I was aware that the current flu bug was no slouch. Unfortunately, that turned out to be the case. I wound up with a pretty good dose of it, and though the Wellness Formula has kept my symptoms at about a 5 on a 10 scale, I still felt fairly crummy today, mostly in my congested head, which felt like it was filled with cement. Now i can really feel for people who got a worse case of it than I did, cause mine is bad enough. I tried to cover all the bases in order to stay flu-free, and I was stylin' there for a while, but it just goes to show that you can pick it up anywhere, most likely by touching something with the germ (or virus, not sure which) on it. I imagine the grocery store is prime flu bug territory as far as touched objects go.
At any rate, I'm hangin' in there and hope to be ship shape soon, maybe even by tomorrow. The Wellness Formula is a Godsend, cause I know I'd be down for the count without it.
No walkin' today, and no movies or shows. I did read a lot, however. I am working on three books, all of which I might have mentioned : "The Monuments Of Mars" by Richard Hoagland, "The Beatle Who Vanished", about drummer Jimmie Nicol, and "Weird Scenes Inside The Canyon" by David McGowan, a look at the very strange interworkings of the Laurel Canyon music scene in the mid-60s, which spawned The Byrds and Buffalo Springfield, and created the Hippie Movement on the Sunset Strip. Many folks believe that Hippies began in San Francisco, but that is not the case. The whole scene was begat right here in Laurel Canyon, by musicians and their followers who more often than not - according to the fascinating "connect-the-dots" research of author McGowan - had family backgrounds that involved military intelligence, most often involving a given musician's father. Frank Zappa's dad was a chemical engineer at Edgewood Arsenal, where MKUltra experiments were done in the 1950s. Frank himself went to school on the base until age 7. Jim Morrison's Dad, was - as is now fairly well known - the Admiral in charge of the Navy fleet that was in place in the Gulf Of Tonkin, when a faked incident took place that allowed Lyndon Johnson to begin the Vietnam War.
Zappa and Morrison were both phenomenally gifted musicians, but as documented by author McGowan, there was something "magically fortuitous" about their respective rises to the top. They had connections, in other words, and not just musical connections.
Frank Zappa and Jim Morrison are just two of the dozens of musicians and assorted weird characters who populate this incredibly sordid story.
The story of the Laurel Canyon scene in the 1960s is a tale of drugs and death, of very persuasive military connections to the forming of the "Hippie Scene", as a means to make young people look ridiculous and wasted on LSD, and thereby discredit what had been a legitimate anti-war movement run by clear headed college students in the early '60s.
Author McGowan doesn't document his research; you have to take him at his word, but when you've read and experienced as much as I have, it doesn't take much suspension of disbelief to see that he is more or less right on the money. The story of Laurel Canyon is a horror story, basically. The irony is that so much great music was produced, although in the cases of some of the bands, McGowan suggests that their tunes were provided "ready made" by outside writers in order to catapult them to stardom and thereby spread the suddenly sprouted "Hippie" message of "free love" and LSD consumption, which helped to destroy the anti-war movement.
It's a story so horrific and demonic, for the activities these people engaged in, that I recommend it only for the non-squeamish. I was just a kid in the '60s, and it was the most amazing decade I've ever lived through. Anyone my age would agree, I think. Each year in the 1960s felt like five years because so much was happening on all fronts, political, social, cultural, technological. You name it.
But as a kid, I was watching the teenagers ahead of me. The music powered their generation, and I loved the music from the day I was born practically. So it is quite a revelation to read this book, and to see that perhaps a lot of planning went in to the creation of that music as a whole, and of the creation of the entire Hippie scene, and Flower Power and all of that.
The author contends it was all manipulated into being by military intelligence, which sounds ridiculous on the surface. But when you are as aware of how widespread the tentacles are, of said Intelligence networks, and when you are aware of how mass media manipulation has been orchestrated by the CIA since 1947 or even earlier, through their ownership or infiltration of news media, then the story of Laurel Canyon does not seem so ridiculous, or even surprising. Instead, it seems very believable.
I give "Weird Scenes Inside The Canyon" my highest recommendation, even though the author does not provide verification for his sources. What he does do, is to give you all the information you need to put it all together on your own. It's very easy to do so because his research is so good, and this story will give you an idea of how America really works. What you will see is that no project is too big, too outlandish or too unthinkable for American Intelligence Operations to conceive of, or to execute.
The amazing thing is that the music was so good, from The Byrds to The Doors to Zappa, to Love and the Beach Boys, and many others. But the trail of drugs, death and destruction was just as real. It was the Dark Side of the 1960s. ////
I wanna get back to 1989, and the story of "D", my long-time friend who wound up putting a starter pistol to the back of my head during that terrible span of days in September 1989. I don't have the energy tonight, but as soon as I am feeling better - maybe tomorrow - I want to explore the unusual aspect of "D"'s actions that day.
After all, I don't imagine that most folks wake up in the morning and think, "Gee, I'd better head over to my friend's house to handcuff him and shoot him in the head with a starter pistol".
"D" himself indicated that he had been forced to do it.
I believe that he was forced to participate in a ritual game, of the type that Skull and Bones might play, or some other elite occult organisation.
Why else shoot someone in the back of the head, execution style while they are kneeling (with handcuffs for good measure) - with a starter pistol, which fires blanks?
Unless it was done to perform a mock "execution", which is the type of gamesmanship that Skull and Bones or the Masons might come up with.
Those guys like games, and they like the Occult.
We will break down the actions of "D" a little bit further as my flu subsides, and we will explore his connections to drugs, as they figure into the 1989 scenario.
See you in the morn. xoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
At any rate, I'm hangin' in there and hope to be ship shape soon, maybe even by tomorrow. The Wellness Formula is a Godsend, cause I know I'd be down for the count without it.
No walkin' today, and no movies or shows. I did read a lot, however. I am working on three books, all of which I might have mentioned : "The Monuments Of Mars" by Richard Hoagland, "The Beatle Who Vanished", about drummer Jimmie Nicol, and "Weird Scenes Inside The Canyon" by David McGowan, a look at the very strange interworkings of the Laurel Canyon music scene in the mid-60s, which spawned The Byrds and Buffalo Springfield, and created the Hippie Movement on the Sunset Strip. Many folks believe that Hippies began in San Francisco, but that is not the case. The whole scene was begat right here in Laurel Canyon, by musicians and their followers who more often than not - according to the fascinating "connect-the-dots" research of author McGowan - had family backgrounds that involved military intelligence, most often involving a given musician's father. Frank Zappa's dad was a chemical engineer at Edgewood Arsenal, where MKUltra experiments were done in the 1950s. Frank himself went to school on the base until age 7. Jim Morrison's Dad, was - as is now fairly well known - the Admiral in charge of the Navy fleet that was in place in the Gulf Of Tonkin, when a faked incident took place that allowed Lyndon Johnson to begin the Vietnam War.
Zappa and Morrison were both phenomenally gifted musicians, but as documented by author McGowan, there was something "magically fortuitous" about their respective rises to the top. They had connections, in other words, and not just musical connections.
Frank Zappa and Jim Morrison are just two of the dozens of musicians and assorted weird characters who populate this incredibly sordid story.
The story of the Laurel Canyon scene in the 1960s is a tale of drugs and death, of very persuasive military connections to the forming of the "Hippie Scene", as a means to make young people look ridiculous and wasted on LSD, and thereby discredit what had been a legitimate anti-war movement run by clear headed college students in the early '60s.
Author McGowan doesn't document his research; you have to take him at his word, but when you've read and experienced as much as I have, it doesn't take much suspension of disbelief to see that he is more or less right on the money. The story of Laurel Canyon is a horror story, basically. The irony is that so much great music was produced, although in the cases of some of the bands, McGowan suggests that their tunes were provided "ready made" by outside writers in order to catapult them to stardom and thereby spread the suddenly sprouted "Hippie" message of "free love" and LSD consumption, which helped to destroy the anti-war movement.
It's a story so horrific and demonic, for the activities these people engaged in, that I recommend it only for the non-squeamish. I was just a kid in the '60s, and it was the most amazing decade I've ever lived through. Anyone my age would agree, I think. Each year in the 1960s felt like five years because so much was happening on all fronts, political, social, cultural, technological. You name it.
But as a kid, I was watching the teenagers ahead of me. The music powered their generation, and I loved the music from the day I was born practically. So it is quite a revelation to read this book, and to see that perhaps a lot of planning went in to the creation of that music as a whole, and of the creation of the entire Hippie scene, and Flower Power and all of that.
The author contends it was all manipulated into being by military intelligence, which sounds ridiculous on the surface. But when you are as aware of how widespread the tentacles are, of said Intelligence networks, and when you are aware of how mass media manipulation has been orchestrated by the CIA since 1947 or even earlier, through their ownership or infiltration of news media, then the story of Laurel Canyon does not seem so ridiculous, or even surprising. Instead, it seems very believable.
I give "Weird Scenes Inside The Canyon" my highest recommendation, even though the author does not provide verification for his sources. What he does do, is to give you all the information you need to put it all together on your own. It's very easy to do so because his research is so good, and this story will give you an idea of how America really works. What you will see is that no project is too big, too outlandish or too unthinkable for American Intelligence Operations to conceive of, or to execute.
The amazing thing is that the music was so good, from The Byrds to The Doors to Zappa, to Love and the Beach Boys, and many others. But the trail of drugs, death and destruction was just as real. It was the Dark Side of the 1960s. ////
I wanna get back to 1989, and the story of "D", my long-time friend who wound up putting a starter pistol to the back of my head during that terrible span of days in September 1989. I don't have the energy tonight, but as soon as I am feeling better - maybe tomorrow - I want to explore the unusual aspect of "D"'s actions that day.
After all, I don't imagine that most folks wake up in the morning and think, "Gee, I'd better head over to my friend's house to handcuff him and shoot him in the head with a starter pistol".
"D" himself indicated that he had been forced to do it.
I believe that he was forced to participate in a ritual game, of the type that Skull and Bones might play, or some other elite occult organisation.
Why else shoot someone in the back of the head, execution style while they are kneeling (with handcuffs for good measure) - with a starter pistol, which fires blanks?
Unless it was done to perform a mock "execution", which is the type of gamesmanship that Skull and Bones or the Masons might come up with.
Those guys like games, and they like the Occult.
We will break down the actions of "D" a little bit further as my flu subsides, and we will explore his connections to drugs, as they figure into the 1989 scenario.
See you in the morn. xoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Friday, February 16, 2018
"Innocent Sorcerers" by Wajda + Germs vs. Wellness Formula + Dog Noses Come From The Rubber Factory
Tonight at CSUN we saw Wajda's "Innocent Sorcerers" (1960), the story of a young sports doctor (he works with boxers), who also plays drums in a semi-pro jazz band. Stitching up fighters pays the rent, but his heart is in the music......well, sort of. His heart is really in the adulation he gets from the girls who show up at the band's club shows. This is a new Poland in 1960. Stalin died several years back and the new Communist government in the Soviet Union, led by Nikita Khrushchev, had eased up a bit on some of the cultural restrictions. Jazz clubs were no longer verboten.
So the young (and handsome) doctor plays jazz drums at night, and has no shortage of groupies. He becomes bored with being chased, though, and decides to become the chaser.
He and a friend (played by the "Polish James Dean" Zbigniew Cybulski, hooray for him!), go into a bar where the doc spies a girl he immediately fancies. She is an Audrey Hepburn type in looks and sophistication. The doc enlists Cybulski in a scheme to get the girl away from the guy she is with. The scheme works, and soon he finds himself alone with the young woman on the train platform outside the bar. She seems to appreciate his chutzpah and agrees to accompany him back to his apartment. She even pays for his train ticket.
But it's not what you think.
Instead, their evening together is mostly conversation. In the flyers that we always receive at the Cinematheque, it is noted by the reviewer that this film bears a resemblance in the conversational respect to Richard Linklater's "Before Sunrise" with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, and I would agree. I would bet that Linklater saw "Innocent Sorcerers" and was influenced by it. His film was almost 100% conversational; in "Sorcerers", the night of conversation results from an on-the-spot "contract" that the young lady writes up. She has agreed to go to the doctor's apartment only because she finds him to be an interesting person, and her "contract", which she writes down on paper, is all about having a discussion. The doc agrees, but he has met his match, because not only is this Polish Audrey very sophisticated, but she seems to have even more self-confidence than he does.
There are many political subtleties in this short 84 minutes film, but they are all image related and unspoken in the dialogue. Once again it's a film best seen and not described too much.
I think "Innocent Sorcerers" takes it's place among classic 1960s European Youth Culture cinema, alongside films by Godard and Antonioni (of whom we still haven't figured out why he needed two "oni"s in his last name).
I give it two Big Thumbs Up, and I think it's high time that Wajda - now that I am experiencing more of his movies, and in a theater - is given the same recognition as that of the above-named cinematic greats, for he is every bit their equal. ///
Tonight I am fighting a bit of a germ, doggonnit. Man - I have been avoiding this godawful flu like the plague (and I must pause while you appreciate that metaphor)........ ;)
But I have been trying to avoid it ever since Christmas, or whenever it started. This flu season has been one of the worst in recent times, so I've been trying to steer clear of any coughing I hear, or any other signs of contagion, because this year the bug has been everywhere and everyone has had it.
I did not get it. I was lucky. I was handwashing like a madman, not touching my face. I am not a germ-o-phobe, but I am the Next Best Thing, a guy who absolutely hates getting sick. The last flu or cold I got was two years ago, and I have only been sick twice since 2014.
But I must have screwed up, because this morn I awoke with a minor sore throat. Initially I chalked it up to sleeping with the fan on. That can do it, can dry out your sinuses or whatever. But by this afternoon, I knew it was A Bug.
So, I immediately went home and took two gigantic pills of Wellness Formula. If you have never heard of Wellness Formula, you can Google it. It is an herbal remedy, with echinacea as a main ingredient.
I took it the last time I got sick a couple years ago, and it really worked. Instead of a five day flu, I was done in two days, with symptoms that were nowhere near as bad as they would have been without the Formula. This afternoon, when I realised that my sore throat was germ based, I took two Wellness pills as soon as I got home, and my symptoms have not increased very much. I can feel The Bug trying to kick my ass, but the Wellness Formula is putting up it's dukes in a formidable defense.
Two Big Thumbs Up, then, for Wellness Formula. Google it if you haven't heard of it.
I hope I will be okay tomorrow. I know that this flu bug is no slouch itself.
Elizabeth, I saw your Valentine's Day post. I was glad to see you back on FB. One thing I like about posts with dogs, besides the fact that dogs rule, is when, in a photograph, a Dog Nose is situated in the foreground.
There is something about Dog Noses. I used to think, back in the days of Shemp and Ygor, and continuing through my beloved Alice and Trixie, that dogs had to get in line to have their noses attached. The Dog Nose seemed to be composed of a different material than the rest of The Dog. So I always figured they had to go stand in line at the Rubber Shop, or the Naugahyde Shop, to have their noses put on.
Whether I am right or not - and I'll bet I am - I have thought in recent years that it is very important for the Dog Nose to be photographed at a prominent frontal angle in any Dog Picture, preferably to where it plays a central role in the interpretation of same.
Second to the Dog Nose in photographs is the Dog Eyeball, but we will have to explore that another night. :)
Fingers are crossed for a germ-free morning.
See you then. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
So the young (and handsome) doctor plays jazz drums at night, and has no shortage of groupies. He becomes bored with being chased, though, and decides to become the chaser.
He and a friend (played by the "Polish James Dean" Zbigniew Cybulski, hooray for him!), go into a bar where the doc spies a girl he immediately fancies. She is an Audrey Hepburn type in looks and sophistication. The doc enlists Cybulski in a scheme to get the girl away from the guy she is with. The scheme works, and soon he finds himself alone with the young woman on the train platform outside the bar. She seems to appreciate his chutzpah and agrees to accompany him back to his apartment. She even pays for his train ticket.
But it's not what you think.
Instead, their evening together is mostly conversation. In the flyers that we always receive at the Cinematheque, it is noted by the reviewer that this film bears a resemblance in the conversational respect to Richard Linklater's "Before Sunrise" with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, and I would agree. I would bet that Linklater saw "Innocent Sorcerers" and was influenced by it. His film was almost 100% conversational; in "Sorcerers", the night of conversation results from an on-the-spot "contract" that the young lady writes up. She has agreed to go to the doctor's apartment only because she finds him to be an interesting person, and her "contract", which she writes down on paper, is all about having a discussion. The doc agrees, but he has met his match, because not only is this Polish Audrey very sophisticated, but she seems to have even more self-confidence than he does.
There are many political subtleties in this short 84 minutes film, but they are all image related and unspoken in the dialogue. Once again it's a film best seen and not described too much.
I think "Innocent Sorcerers" takes it's place among classic 1960s European Youth Culture cinema, alongside films by Godard and Antonioni (of whom we still haven't figured out why he needed two "oni"s in his last name).
I give it two Big Thumbs Up, and I think it's high time that Wajda - now that I am experiencing more of his movies, and in a theater - is given the same recognition as that of the above-named cinematic greats, for he is every bit their equal. ///
Tonight I am fighting a bit of a germ, doggonnit. Man - I have been avoiding this godawful flu like the plague (and I must pause while you appreciate that metaphor)........ ;)
But I have been trying to avoid it ever since Christmas, or whenever it started. This flu season has been one of the worst in recent times, so I've been trying to steer clear of any coughing I hear, or any other signs of contagion, because this year the bug has been everywhere and everyone has had it.
I did not get it. I was lucky. I was handwashing like a madman, not touching my face. I am not a germ-o-phobe, but I am the Next Best Thing, a guy who absolutely hates getting sick. The last flu or cold I got was two years ago, and I have only been sick twice since 2014.
But I must have screwed up, because this morn I awoke with a minor sore throat. Initially I chalked it up to sleeping with the fan on. That can do it, can dry out your sinuses or whatever. But by this afternoon, I knew it was A Bug.
So, I immediately went home and took two gigantic pills of Wellness Formula. If you have never heard of Wellness Formula, you can Google it. It is an herbal remedy, with echinacea as a main ingredient.
I took it the last time I got sick a couple years ago, and it really worked. Instead of a five day flu, I was done in two days, with symptoms that were nowhere near as bad as they would have been without the Formula. This afternoon, when I realised that my sore throat was germ based, I took two Wellness pills as soon as I got home, and my symptoms have not increased very much. I can feel The Bug trying to kick my ass, but the Wellness Formula is putting up it's dukes in a formidable defense.
Two Big Thumbs Up, then, for Wellness Formula. Google it if you haven't heard of it.
I hope I will be okay tomorrow. I know that this flu bug is no slouch itself.
Elizabeth, I saw your Valentine's Day post. I was glad to see you back on FB. One thing I like about posts with dogs, besides the fact that dogs rule, is when, in a photograph, a Dog Nose is situated in the foreground.
There is something about Dog Noses. I used to think, back in the days of Shemp and Ygor, and continuing through my beloved Alice and Trixie, that dogs had to get in line to have their noses attached. The Dog Nose seemed to be composed of a different material than the rest of The Dog. So I always figured they had to go stand in line at the Rubber Shop, or the Naugahyde Shop, to have their noses put on.
Whether I am right or not - and I'll bet I am - I have thought in recent years that it is very important for the Dog Nose to be photographed at a prominent frontal angle in any Dog Picture, preferably to where it plays a central role in the interpretation of same.
Second to the Dog Nose in photographs is the Dog Eyeball, but we will have to explore that another night. :)
Fingers are crossed for a germ-free morning.
See you then. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Thursday, February 15, 2018
Happy Valentine's Day + A Bischon Won Westminster + 1989 : My Friend Shot Me With A Starter Pistol
Happy Valentine's Day Late Night. I get a bit melancholy on V-Day, for obvious reasons, but I believe in love and I hope that everyone out there who does have a Valentine had a wonderful day. Maybe one of these years I will be so fortunate. I sure don't wanna be all alone for the rest of my life.
Well anyway, one cool thing that I saw - and I may have already mentioned it - was that a Bischon won the top prize at the annual Westminster Dog Show. Did I already report this? If I did, it's worth repeating, because when I saw that on the news, you know I immediately thought of The Doberman Pinscher. I don't closely follow the dog shows, but I am usually aware of the winners as they are announced to the world, and I can't recall a Bischon Frise being named Top Dog in any recent contest going back at least ten years.
I am always thinking of Things Spiritual, and I just thought, when I heard about the Westminster winner, "The Kobedog did it". They picked a Bischon in honor of The Pinsch. He was not an Ultra Blow Dried Bischon himself, and when he did get groomed and was All Puffed Out like a cottonball, it only took a couple of days for him to return to his standard attire of curly haired regular dogness. The 'Ster liked the backyard, and he wasn't afraid to get dirty.
But I know he did it. Now that he is upstairs, he surely influenced the choice of Flynn, the Bischon that won the Westminster prize. Kobi would have picked himself as the winner, except that he can't be in two places at once. :)
No movie to review today. Man, I know I am slackin', but the trouble is that I have seen so many movies that I am having a hard time finding new ones in my library searches. I have to admit that about 85% of new movies do not interest me, so that leaves just a handful of new ones, and an increasing paucity of older movies that I have not seen and must discover. I will find more, however. You know me, a very determined person. :)
I did watch a "Kolchak : The Night Stalker" episode, called "The Vampire", the title of which makes my job easy because I don't have to tell you what it was about, haha. The main attraction of the series is not the monsters anyway, but Darren McGavin as "Kolchak". He is a crime reporter with an instinct for the supernatural, and his determination to solve his cases is very inspiring to say the least.
I will briefly touch on an aspect of 1989 that I want to explore next, and in fact I may be able to say a lot of what I want to say about it just in a brief description, but we'll see. This aspect was part of the weirdest and most inexplicable event of the entire 1989 Happening, an event I call "The Attack Of The Ex-Neighbors", in which - one afternoon in the middle of the 12 day horror - three men who had formerly lived on Rathburn Avenue with their families, appeared suddenly to attack my parents on the front lawn of our house at 9032 Avenue in Northridge. Two of those men had, like the Evil Jared Rappaport, been CSUN Professors, and all three men and their families had moved away from Rathburn at least a dozen years prior to 1989. And, as far as I know, not one of them had ever had any connection to my Mom and Dad, except that all the kids knew each other.
"The Attack Of The Ex-Neighbors" is a very real event. It can be described in as much detail as I remember it, which is a fair amount. But the reason for it's occurrence is something I have yet to make any sense of. At some point, we will try to break into it via logic, but not tonight.
The minor aspect I did want to mention took place during the same event. I cannot remember if it happened before the ex-neighbors showed up to assault my folks, or if it happened afterwards, but it definitely happened.
All of this took place during a single afternoon, sometime between September 1st and September 12th, 1989.
Setting aside for now the Attack Of The Ex-Neighbors, the aspect I want to focus on will be an appearance by a longtime friend of mine on that same afternoon. The "Attack" took place on the front lawn of our house.
"D", my longtime friend, drove up in his car shortly thereafter.
Now how weird is this? "D" got out of his car. I was still on the sidewalk, after experiencing the assault on my folks. I don't know where they were at this time, maybe ten to fifteen minutes after the whole thing began. But "D" drove up, got out of his car, and walked up to me.
I was in a 100,000% state of shock, because I had been under assault myself from many sources, for several days running. As I have said, it is a wonder I am alive. And as an aside, if I were to "talk" all of this, meaning tell the entire story orally, I could do it in full detail and with great clarity, and I think that a listener who was interested in this story would be able to follow along very easily. There is so much detail in the story, and so much explanation that needs to be done concerning much of the detail, that it would be much easier to tell the story in person to an audience. To type it is a far slower process, in which a lot of precise detail is lost due to the fact that my fingers cannot type as fast as I can think.
But anyhow, out of a Clear Blue Sky, my friend "D" drove up to the curb of 9032 Rathburn on the afternoon in question, right after the violent assault by our ex-neighbors.
He got out of his car and he approached me. I was standing on the corner of Rathburn and Sunburst, where our house was located (and as always, please Google for Street View, 9032 Rathburn).
My friend "D", who was also involved in drug dealing, had a gym bag he was carrying. He opened it and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
He also pulled out a gun.
Thank God it was only a starter pistol, a gun that fires blanks.
My friend "D", who I had known since 1971 when I was 11 years old, said to me on the street corner, "Sorry I have to do this, but they are gonna kill me if I don't". He gave no explanation of what he meant by that statement.
He then instructed me to get down on my knees. He instructed me to put my hands behind my back. Then he put the handcuffs on me.
Then he explained about the starter pistol : it wasn't a real gun.
"Just go along with it", he told me.
I was in an absolute state of shock from days of being assaulted/kidnapped/etc., and so I did exactly as "D" told me. I went down to my knees and passively allowed him to place his handcuffs on me, arms behind my back. Then I knelt stock still, scared out of my wits yet again, while he explained about the "fake" gun, which looked real to me. "It won't hurt", he said.
Then he put the gun to the back of my head and pulled the trigger, as I knelt there on the corner of the sidewalk in front of my house.
I remember a loud "pop", or a bang!
"D" was right, more or less. His shooting me in the back of my head with a starter pistol did not really hurt too much, although the whole situation he created scared me half to death, and in my book - in which I was describing my initial memories that had returned by 1997 - I described his "shot" as causing a small bloody spot on the back of my head.
No lasting physical damage was had, thank God, but I was terrified, this time by a friend.
We will further examine this situation in more depth in the coming days. Tomorrow I have the CSUN movie, but perhaps I will abbreviate my review to get back to this story. We shall see.
Meanwhile, I will see you in the morning. Until then.......love, love, love and more love.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Well anyway, one cool thing that I saw - and I may have already mentioned it - was that a Bischon won the top prize at the annual Westminster Dog Show. Did I already report this? If I did, it's worth repeating, because when I saw that on the news, you know I immediately thought of The Doberman Pinscher. I don't closely follow the dog shows, but I am usually aware of the winners as they are announced to the world, and I can't recall a Bischon Frise being named Top Dog in any recent contest going back at least ten years.
I am always thinking of Things Spiritual, and I just thought, when I heard about the Westminster winner, "The Kobedog did it". They picked a Bischon in honor of The Pinsch. He was not an Ultra Blow Dried Bischon himself, and when he did get groomed and was All Puffed Out like a cottonball, it only took a couple of days for him to return to his standard attire of curly haired regular dogness. The 'Ster liked the backyard, and he wasn't afraid to get dirty.
But I know he did it. Now that he is upstairs, he surely influenced the choice of Flynn, the Bischon that won the Westminster prize. Kobi would have picked himself as the winner, except that he can't be in two places at once. :)
No movie to review today. Man, I know I am slackin', but the trouble is that I have seen so many movies that I am having a hard time finding new ones in my library searches. I have to admit that about 85% of new movies do not interest me, so that leaves just a handful of new ones, and an increasing paucity of older movies that I have not seen and must discover. I will find more, however. You know me, a very determined person. :)
I did watch a "Kolchak : The Night Stalker" episode, called "The Vampire", the title of which makes my job easy because I don't have to tell you what it was about, haha. The main attraction of the series is not the monsters anyway, but Darren McGavin as "Kolchak". He is a crime reporter with an instinct for the supernatural, and his determination to solve his cases is very inspiring to say the least.
I will briefly touch on an aspect of 1989 that I want to explore next, and in fact I may be able to say a lot of what I want to say about it just in a brief description, but we'll see. This aspect was part of the weirdest and most inexplicable event of the entire 1989 Happening, an event I call "The Attack Of The Ex-Neighbors", in which - one afternoon in the middle of the 12 day horror - three men who had formerly lived on Rathburn Avenue with their families, appeared suddenly to attack my parents on the front lawn of our house at 9032 Avenue in Northridge. Two of those men had, like the Evil Jared Rappaport, been CSUN Professors, and all three men and their families had moved away from Rathburn at least a dozen years prior to 1989. And, as far as I know, not one of them had ever had any connection to my Mom and Dad, except that all the kids knew each other.
"The Attack Of The Ex-Neighbors" is a very real event. It can be described in as much detail as I remember it, which is a fair amount. But the reason for it's occurrence is something I have yet to make any sense of. At some point, we will try to break into it via logic, but not tonight.
The minor aspect I did want to mention took place during the same event. I cannot remember if it happened before the ex-neighbors showed up to assault my folks, or if it happened afterwards, but it definitely happened.
All of this took place during a single afternoon, sometime between September 1st and September 12th, 1989.
Setting aside for now the Attack Of The Ex-Neighbors, the aspect I want to focus on will be an appearance by a longtime friend of mine on that same afternoon. The "Attack" took place on the front lawn of our house.
"D", my longtime friend, drove up in his car shortly thereafter.
Now how weird is this? "D" got out of his car. I was still on the sidewalk, after experiencing the assault on my folks. I don't know where they were at this time, maybe ten to fifteen minutes after the whole thing began. But "D" drove up, got out of his car, and walked up to me.
I was in a 100,000% state of shock, because I had been under assault myself from many sources, for several days running. As I have said, it is a wonder I am alive. And as an aside, if I were to "talk" all of this, meaning tell the entire story orally, I could do it in full detail and with great clarity, and I think that a listener who was interested in this story would be able to follow along very easily. There is so much detail in the story, and so much explanation that needs to be done concerning much of the detail, that it would be much easier to tell the story in person to an audience. To type it is a far slower process, in which a lot of precise detail is lost due to the fact that my fingers cannot type as fast as I can think.
But anyhow, out of a Clear Blue Sky, my friend "D" drove up to the curb of 9032 Rathburn on the afternoon in question, right after the violent assault by our ex-neighbors.
He got out of his car and he approached me. I was standing on the corner of Rathburn and Sunburst, where our house was located (and as always, please Google for Street View, 9032 Rathburn).
My friend "D", who was also involved in drug dealing, had a gym bag he was carrying. He opened it and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
He also pulled out a gun.
Thank God it was only a starter pistol, a gun that fires blanks.
My friend "D", who I had known since 1971 when I was 11 years old, said to me on the street corner, "Sorry I have to do this, but they are gonna kill me if I don't". He gave no explanation of what he meant by that statement.
He then instructed me to get down on my knees. He instructed me to put my hands behind my back. Then he put the handcuffs on me.
Then he explained about the starter pistol : it wasn't a real gun.
"Just go along with it", he told me.
I was in an absolute state of shock from days of being assaulted/kidnapped/etc., and so I did exactly as "D" told me. I went down to my knees and passively allowed him to place his handcuffs on me, arms behind my back. Then I knelt stock still, scared out of my wits yet again, while he explained about the "fake" gun, which looked real to me. "It won't hurt", he said.
Then he put the gun to the back of my head and pulled the trigger, as I knelt there on the corner of the sidewalk in front of my house.
I remember a loud "pop", or a bang!
"D" was right, more or less. His shooting me in the back of my head with a starter pistol did not really hurt too much, although the whole situation he created scared me half to death, and in my book - in which I was describing my initial memories that had returned by 1997 - I described his "shot" as causing a small bloody spot on the back of my head.
No lasting physical damage was had, thank God, but I was terrified, this time by a friend.
We will further examine this situation in more depth in the coming days. Tomorrow I have the CSUN movie, but perhaps I will abbreviate my review to get back to this story. We shall see.
Meanwhile, I will see you in the morning. Until then.......love, love, love and more love.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
1989 : What Were They Responding To, and Why Was It Classified? + Schaller at Howard Johnson's.
I have no movie to review tonight, so I wanna get right back to trying to pick apart the reason(s) for a Federal response to the situation at the Concord Square apartment building on the night of September 1st, 1989. Once again I will forego a preamble and simply jump in. If it is tedious, I apologize. :)
We can safely say that we know, with 99% certainty, that there was surveillance taking place prior to the Federal response that night. We can also safely say that the response was and emergency response, as opposed to what we might imagine a "routine visit" from a Federal agency might be like, where they show up on an ordinary day and knock on your door to ask you some questions. And we can also surmise - most importantly - that the response on September 1st was a classified emergency response.
But first, let's look at why it was an emergency response, rather than just a follow up response, in which detectives might proverbially ask for "just the facts, ma'am".
For one thing, they - the Feds - already seemed to know what was going on. This was clear by their rapid response, and the fact that they did not, to my knowledge, ask anyone any questions. They asked me none, and I was the central figure that night. When they put me in the empty apartment, late that night, the agent who arranged my safekeeping said to "A", the nurse (and relative of "X") who was responsible for me at that point, "there are still some bad guys out there, so it would be safer if we could keep him here". I was right there when he said it, and I heard him say it with my own ears.
Let us ask now, "what Bad Guys"?
We had already experienced Bad Guy Howard Schaller, who was so violent that I worried he would kill "X".
My memories are not comprehensive, they exist in long sections of events and then in bits and pieces, and I do not remember exactly if Howard was ultimately arrested in the parking lot by the lone police officer who was present. He may have been cuffed, or not.
So let's stop right there and say that he was cuffed, and "arrested".
If Howard was, at the very least, taken away by some authority after his assault on "X", then who was the Federal agent referring to, about an hour later back at Concord Square, when he said there were other "bad guys" still out there, lurking in the night, who were a potential threat to me? Recall that this was his reasoning for placing me in what would amount to "emergency protective custody". The Feds don't have access to a jail (for a safe place to put me), and they don't want to involve the LAPD, so the agent asked the apartment manager if she had an empty apartment that they could use to place me overnight, to keep me safe from "bad guys" who were "still out there".
Howard Schaller was one Bad Guy. But whether or not he was arrested that night, "bad guys" is plural. So who were the other Bad Guys? Who else might have wanted to hurt me, to the extent that it was deemed necessary to place me in an empty apartment to hide and protect me that night?
Who were the other Bad Guys? And how were the Federal agents aware of them, when only Howard Schaller had made an appearance at that point?
I think we have made a tiny bit of progress here, because at this point, I think we can safely say two things :
1) Regarding the emergency response by the Feds, I think we can attribute it to the fact that two people could have died that night - myself, and "X". Let us assume that "it wasn't supposed to unfold that way". Let us assume that some Federal agency was surveilling either "X", or myself, or most likely, some situation "behind" the both of us, a situation that I was entirely unaware of but which "X" may have had a peripheral awareness. "X" knew something was up, which was evidenced by "X"'s decision to exit the relative safety of our car at Northridge Hospital, to face a murderous madman all by "X"'s self (until I got out of the car as well). We see, however, that even at that early stage, "X" knew something was up. Why else get out of a locked car to face a Hell's Angel looking biker with murder on his mind?
"X" had a secret shared with Howard Schaller, a drug deal. He was furious that his drugs or his money, or he himself had been compromised.
And he may have been "cuffed" (an appearance of being arrested by a cop with no authority on that evening).
But Howard Schaller showed up later on, in another major event of What Happened In Northridge.
He was present inside a room at the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, perhaps a week to two weeks later.
The Howard Johnson Event is one of the major events of the entire 1989 scenario, and the fact that Howard Schaller was not only present in that motel room, but that he assaulted several women in that room (witnessed by myself and many others) proves that he was not hauled off to jail and held on original assault charges from the night of September 1st, when he attacked "X".
This lowlife was merely placed in a "holding pen" somewhere, or maybe even allowed to return home, and then ultimately put into that room at Howard Johnson's, where we were all held in a makeshift fashion, victims and victimizers alike, all placed in the same motel room, which was used as a holding pen just like the empty apartment was used as a holding pen for me on the first night, September 1st.
So this brings us to Thing # 2, of the things I wanted to finish up with. I hope I still have enough brainpower left at this time of night to recall what it was.
I think it had to do with why this operation was not just an emergency response, but was also a classified response, a Covert Black Op from the get go.
It was an emergency response because two people almost died, due to violence. And the Feds were surveilling our situation, and they had not expected such a disruption that led to potential death. They had to get in there and cover the bases, so to speak. Then they had to get out there and find the elusive "Bad Guys".
But, and this is #2) of what we have discovered, they had to do this all in secret, and they had to ask the LAPD to stand down. This was the "classified" part of the Classified Emergency Response I have attempted to describe.
Check it : Howard Schaller was let go at some point after his assault on "X", so that he could be several days later rounded up and placed in a "holding pen" at the Howard Johnson Motel, with about a dozen other people. Howard Schaller, being a Type A Violent Criminal, took advantage of being in an unsupervised room full of "sheep", and he went on to assault other women in that room, which I witnessed. The Feds put us all in that room as a "holding pen" to keep us all together, victims and criminals alike, because they weren't interested in victims and criminals. They didn't care about that.
They were interested in protecting a much bigger secret, something bigger than any drug deal or the supposed catching of any "Bad Guys".
And that is why I say that the Federal response to an everyday domestic dispute was not only an Emergency Response (and don't forget the helicopter that landed at Northridge Hospital), but was also a Classified Response.
I have a letter from the FOIA office of the CIA that indicates, in so many words, that the entire matter is a National Security situation.
So if it wasn't about drugs, what was it about?
That's all I know for tonight. Hope I was semi-successful in making my points, cause I know I can go off topic and digress into the wilderness.
I'm just trying to stick up for the truth. Someone has got to do it in the Age Of Trump.
Thanks for reading, see you in the morn. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
We can safely say that we know, with 99% certainty, that there was surveillance taking place prior to the Federal response that night. We can also safely say that the response was and emergency response, as opposed to what we might imagine a "routine visit" from a Federal agency might be like, where they show up on an ordinary day and knock on your door to ask you some questions. And we can also surmise - most importantly - that the response on September 1st was a classified emergency response.
But first, let's look at why it was an emergency response, rather than just a follow up response, in which detectives might proverbially ask for "just the facts, ma'am".
For one thing, they - the Feds - already seemed to know what was going on. This was clear by their rapid response, and the fact that they did not, to my knowledge, ask anyone any questions. They asked me none, and I was the central figure that night. When they put me in the empty apartment, late that night, the agent who arranged my safekeeping said to "A", the nurse (and relative of "X") who was responsible for me at that point, "there are still some bad guys out there, so it would be safer if we could keep him here". I was right there when he said it, and I heard him say it with my own ears.
Let us ask now, "what Bad Guys"?
We had already experienced Bad Guy Howard Schaller, who was so violent that I worried he would kill "X".
My memories are not comprehensive, they exist in long sections of events and then in bits and pieces, and I do not remember exactly if Howard was ultimately arrested in the parking lot by the lone police officer who was present. He may have been cuffed, or not.
So let's stop right there and say that he was cuffed, and "arrested".
If Howard was, at the very least, taken away by some authority after his assault on "X", then who was the Federal agent referring to, about an hour later back at Concord Square, when he said there were other "bad guys" still out there, lurking in the night, who were a potential threat to me? Recall that this was his reasoning for placing me in what would amount to "emergency protective custody". The Feds don't have access to a jail (for a safe place to put me), and they don't want to involve the LAPD, so the agent asked the apartment manager if she had an empty apartment that they could use to place me overnight, to keep me safe from "bad guys" who were "still out there".
Howard Schaller was one Bad Guy. But whether or not he was arrested that night, "bad guys" is plural. So who were the other Bad Guys? Who else might have wanted to hurt me, to the extent that it was deemed necessary to place me in an empty apartment to hide and protect me that night?
Who were the other Bad Guys? And how were the Federal agents aware of them, when only Howard Schaller had made an appearance at that point?
I think we have made a tiny bit of progress here, because at this point, I think we can safely say two things :
1) Regarding the emergency response by the Feds, I think we can attribute it to the fact that two people could have died that night - myself, and "X". Let us assume that "it wasn't supposed to unfold that way". Let us assume that some Federal agency was surveilling either "X", or myself, or most likely, some situation "behind" the both of us, a situation that I was entirely unaware of but which "X" may have had a peripheral awareness. "X" knew something was up, which was evidenced by "X"'s decision to exit the relative safety of our car at Northridge Hospital, to face a murderous madman all by "X"'s self (until I got out of the car as well). We see, however, that even at that early stage, "X" knew something was up. Why else get out of a locked car to face a Hell's Angel looking biker with murder on his mind?
"X" had a secret shared with Howard Schaller, a drug deal. He was furious that his drugs or his money, or he himself had been compromised.
And he may have been "cuffed" (an appearance of being arrested by a cop with no authority on that evening).
But Howard Schaller showed up later on, in another major event of What Happened In Northridge.
He was present inside a room at the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, perhaps a week to two weeks later.
The Howard Johnson Event is one of the major events of the entire 1989 scenario, and the fact that Howard Schaller was not only present in that motel room, but that he assaulted several women in that room (witnessed by myself and many others) proves that he was not hauled off to jail and held on original assault charges from the night of September 1st, when he attacked "X".
This lowlife was merely placed in a "holding pen" somewhere, or maybe even allowed to return home, and then ultimately put into that room at Howard Johnson's, where we were all held in a makeshift fashion, victims and victimizers alike, all placed in the same motel room, which was used as a holding pen just like the empty apartment was used as a holding pen for me on the first night, September 1st.
So this brings us to Thing # 2, of the things I wanted to finish up with. I hope I still have enough brainpower left at this time of night to recall what it was.
I think it had to do with why this operation was not just an emergency response, but was also a classified response, a Covert Black Op from the get go.
It was an emergency response because two people almost died, due to violence. And the Feds were surveilling our situation, and they had not expected such a disruption that led to potential death. They had to get in there and cover the bases, so to speak. Then they had to get out there and find the elusive "Bad Guys".
But, and this is #2) of what we have discovered, they had to do this all in secret, and they had to ask the LAPD to stand down. This was the "classified" part of the Classified Emergency Response I have attempted to describe.
Check it : Howard Schaller was let go at some point after his assault on "X", so that he could be several days later rounded up and placed in a "holding pen" at the Howard Johnson Motel, with about a dozen other people. Howard Schaller, being a Type A Violent Criminal, took advantage of being in an unsupervised room full of "sheep", and he went on to assault other women in that room, which I witnessed. The Feds put us all in that room as a "holding pen" to keep us all together, victims and criminals alike, because they weren't interested in victims and criminals. They didn't care about that.
They were interested in protecting a much bigger secret, something bigger than any drug deal or the supposed catching of any "Bad Guys".
And that is why I say that the Federal response to an everyday domestic dispute was not only an Emergency Response (and don't forget the helicopter that landed at Northridge Hospital), but was also a Classified Response.
I have a letter from the FOIA office of the CIA that indicates, in so many words, that the entire matter is a National Security situation.
So if it wasn't about drugs, what was it about?
That's all I know for tonight. Hope I was semi-successful in making my points, cause I know I can go off topic and digress into the wilderness.
I'm just trying to stick up for the truth. Someone has got to do it in the Age Of Trump.
Thanks for reading, see you in the morn. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Glenn Tipton & David Lynch
It was quite a stunning bit of news to read about Glenn Tipton's Parkinson's diagnosis this morning. I can't say that I was out-and-out shocked or flabbergasted, perhaps because I have become enured over the past several years to ongoing news announcements about the deaths, illnesses and retirements of so many of the rock artists that have filled our lives with magic for such a long time. We have lost so many in such a relatively short span that when they announce yet another one, the shock is blunted because we are already in "shock mode". We are half-expecting another one to leave us, though we don't want it to be this way.
I didn't want it to be this way for Judas Priest, one of my top ten favorite bands of all time, and a band that feels like family because they have been in my life since 1976. It was difficult, to be honest, to continue to follow the band after KK Downing left, because he was so integral to the band's sound. It was also his band. He didn't exactly found JP, that was done by a singer named Alan Atkins, but he was the guy who turned Judas Priest into the band we know today. I did stay a fan, though, after KK left, because he himself said to the fans to keep going, to stick with the band and with the young guy who replaced him, Richie Faulkner. I saw Priest in this incarnation in 2013 (or 2014, not sure which year), and they were great as always, but.......it was different without KK.
And now Glenn Tipton will be gone too. When I heard the news this morning, my first instinct, following sadness, was to say to myself, "well, I guess I won't be going to the show". I already have a ticket to the April 22 concert, but I figured I'd just "eat it" as they say. There was no way I was gonna see a "Judas Priest" show without both of the truly legendary guitarists that played such a role in making them as great as they have always been. The music of Judas Priest, for 40 years, had always been written by some combination of Tipton/Halford/Downing. So I wasn't gonna go because without KK and Glenn, it can't really be considered Judas Priest. But then I changed my mind.
Here is why : it's very simply for Glenn. He, like KK before him, wants fans to come out and support the band with now not one but two replacement guitarists. Under ordinary circumstances I would never do this and never even consider it. Had Glenn not become ill, but instead just quit like KK, I would have said, "well, it's not Judas Priest anymore", and I wouldn't have bought a ticket.
The truth is that, without Glenn onstage, and because KK Downing is gone too, it is certainly not Judas Priest anymore. It will be Rob Halford and bass player Ian Hill, and Scott Travis who has drummed for the band for twenty years but who doesn't have the sound of classic Priest drummer Dave Holland, who died just a couple weeks ago. And those three will be playing Judas Priest songs with two guys on guitar who were either very little or not even born when JP was first making records.
So in truth, it won't be Judas Priest I'll be seeing on April 22. It will be two guys from Judas Priest, including their alltime great singer Halford, and a bunch of replacements.
But I'm going for Glenn Tipton, because he has asked fans to go, and because he did not just quit the band, but got sick, which was beyond his control.
We are losing many of our beloved musicians. If they are not dying, they are retiring. I am hoping to see Elton next year, but so far the prices are out of my league.
One day I would like to write extensively about my rock concert experiences, and not just the concerts but the experience of discovering bands as a teenager, hanging out at a record store every day, and just living - for a time - the Rock Is Life ethos. These musicians have all been my heroes, and I thank every one of them from my core.
Thanks, Glenn! ////
Tonight I began watching the new "Twin Peaks", which everyone else saw last year on Showtime but which I had to wait for the dvd. I bought it for myself as a Christmas present and waited until the right moment to watch the first episode, which turned out to be tonight. I won't attempt a review, because it's Lynch. You don't review David Lynch, you just watch him.
I will say that I was suitably impressed by the first episode. That sounds like a half-assed compliment, I know, but it's better in this case than saying "I was blown away", because......well, just like with Rock Stars Dying, I knew what to expect. I knew it was gonna be great. Hell, it's David Lynch! He doesn't do "not great". He only does "Great" and "Weird", and if you like those two things, then you like David Lynch and you still have no idea what to expect which is why he's so great, because you don't know what's coming next.
So I knew the new "Twin Peaks" was gonna be great before I hit "play" on the remote. And the first episode was every bit as weird as you might not imagine. I am stoked for the rest of the series, because there are 18 episodes in all, and from what I've heard they are all directed by David Lynch.
That's like an eighteen hour Lynch movie, broken up into one hour segments. It's like hitting the Mother Lode in a gold mine of weirdness. :):)
That's all I know for tonight. Tomorrow I will try to get back in to 1989. I need to find some minute fine points I can pick apart as we continue our train of thought, and I will make an effort tomorrow afternoon to concentrate on it.
See you in the morning. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
I didn't want it to be this way for Judas Priest, one of my top ten favorite bands of all time, and a band that feels like family because they have been in my life since 1976. It was difficult, to be honest, to continue to follow the band after KK Downing left, because he was so integral to the band's sound. It was also his band. He didn't exactly found JP, that was done by a singer named Alan Atkins, but he was the guy who turned Judas Priest into the band we know today. I did stay a fan, though, after KK left, because he himself said to the fans to keep going, to stick with the band and with the young guy who replaced him, Richie Faulkner. I saw Priest in this incarnation in 2013 (or 2014, not sure which year), and they were great as always, but.......it was different without KK.
And now Glenn Tipton will be gone too. When I heard the news this morning, my first instinct, following sadness, was to say to myself, "well, I guess I won't be going to the show". I already have a ticket to the April 22 concert, but I figured I'd just "eat it" as they say. There was no way I was gonna see a "Judas Priest" show without both of the truly legendary guitarists that played such a role in making them as great as they have always been. The music of Judas Priest, for 40 years, had always been written by some combination of Tipton/Halford/Downing. So I wasn't gonna go because without KK and Glenn, it can't really be considered Judas Priest. But then I changed my mind.
Here is why : it's very simply for Glenn. He, like KK before him, wants fans to come out and support the band with now not one but two replacement guitarists. Under ordinary circumstances I would never do this and never even consider it. Had Glenn not become ill, but instead just quit like KK, I would have said, "well, it's not Judas Priest anymore", and I wouldn't have bought a ticket.
The truth is that, without Glenn onstage, and because KK Downing is gone too, it is certainly not Judas Priest anymore. It will be Rob Halford and bass player Ian Hill, and Scott Travis who has drummed for the band for twenty years but who doesn't have the sound of classic Priest drummer Dave Holland, who died just a couple weeks ago. And those three will be playing Judas Priest songs with two guys on guitar who were either very little or not even born when JP was first making records.
So in truth, it won't be Judas Priest I'll be seeing on April 22. It will be two guys from Judas Priest, including their alltime great singer Halford, and a bunch of replacements.
But I'm going for Glenn Tipton, because he has asked fans to go, and because he did not just quit the band, but got sick, which was beyond his control.
We are losing many of our beloved musicians. If they are not dying, they are retiring. I am hoping to see Elton next year, but so far the prices are out of my league.
One day I would like to write extensively about my rock concert experiences, and not just the concerts but the experience of discovering bands as a teenager, hanging out at a record store every day, and just living - for a time - the Rock Is Life ethos. These musicians have all been my heroes, and I thank every one of them from my core.
Thanks, Glenn! ////
Tonight I began watching the new "Twin Peaks", which everyone else saw last year on Showtime but which I had to wait for the dvd. I bought it for myself as a Christmas present and waited until the right moment to watch the first episode, which turned out to be tonight. I won't attempt a review, because it's Lynch. You don't review David Lynch, you just watch him.
I will say that I was suitably impressed by the first episode. That sounds like a half-assed compliment, I know, but it's better in this case than saying "I was blown away", because......well, just like with Rock Stars Dying, I knew what to expect. I knew it was gonna be great. Hell, it's David Lynch! He doesn't do "not great". He only does "Great" and "Weird", and if you like those two things, then you like David Lynch and you still have no idea what to expect which is why he's so great, because you don't know what's coming next.
So I knew the new "Twin Peaks" was gonna be great before I hit "play" on the remote. And the first episode was every bit as weird as you might not imagine. I am stoked for the rest of the series, because there are 18 episodes in all, and from what I've heard they are all directed by David Lynch.
That's like an eighteen hour Lynch movie, broken up into one hour segments. It's like hitting the Mother Lode in a gold mine of weirdness. :):)
That's all I know for tonight. Tomorrow I will try to get back in to 1989. I need to find some minute fine points I can pick apart as we continue our train of thought, and I will make an effort tomorrow afternoon to concentrate on it.
See you in the morning. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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