I've tried to write something for the past couple of nights, but I wasn't able to finish because I just end up repeating myself. Tonight though, I'm just gonna go for it because I can't let the blog die. It's my only means of communication with you right now, and I obviously don't want to lose it. So, whether I repeat myself or not doesn't matter.
Elizabeth, I have to tell you that I've been distraught over this. Sometimes the pain has been so intense that I'm glad I've had my job to focus on. But I wonder if you've been feeling the same pain too. Do you believe two people can feel the same thing? I do, if the two people love each other. I've been going over what happened - thinking about it again and again (it's all I can think about) - and when I get away from second guessing myself and get it clear in my head, I think you've been trying to tell me something, at the very least since early this year, and I haven't been getting the message. Well, now I get it. Please re-read the other recent blogs to see what I've already said in this regard.
I wish we'd been talking all this time - for the past eight years - by direct message, or even by phone. But we haven't been, and so it hasn't always be easy for me to understand what you've been feeling. Because I have this blog, I can be more direct, and I have been over the years. But I know that it might be different for you. Not everyone expresses themselves in the same way. I'm actually super-shy, and had to gather up the nerve to tell you I loved you, that first time in 2012. I mean, I had butterflies big time. But finally I had to say something and it all came out, as you know. And I felt great relief at having told you, even though it made you mad at first.
Then 2013 happened, and all was well. Then John came along, and I've already written about all of that. I mean, God Bless the guy, I don't know him, nor do I know what your relationship was with him. But by 2015 or so, his presence threw me off track.
I'll admit it too, doggonnit.........I was jealous. And there was that French guy, too. I can't remember his name, but he had really long hair. I thought, "I can't compete with these guys. They're handsome, they're Elizabeth's age", and in John's case he lived somewhat close, in Chicago. Now I'm repeating myself, I know, but it really was the reason I stopped writing to you the way I had been.
Because of the demise of the Facebook ticker and the presence of John, I had no idea how you felt about me as the years went by. I hoped you at least knew - just from an artistic standpoint - that I was your #1 fan. I still am, of course, and I've always tried to encourage you and be helpful in any way I can, just by way of my comments. As I say, I wish we'd been talking directly all this time, it would have been easier and we could have said so much more, but you told me you didn't want that, so I thought "we'll, I'll just stay on the sidelines and keep doing what I've been doing". Because you had stopped commenting on my posts or even pressing "like", I just figured, again, that it was because of John, or maybe because of our age difference (although that didn't stop you in the beginning, when we met).
To make a long story short, at least of this aspect, when you moved back home from Chicago, I figured John was out of the picture. But I didn't feel it was my place to re-state my feelings for you because a lot had happened during that time. You'd become a professional filmmaker, etc. And you'd stopped interacting with me on Facebook, so I thought, "well, I hope she doesn't mind if I still press "like" and comment here at my blog". So by then, instead of writing to you as "My Darling", I was just saying "Hey Elizabeth"! I was trying to keep things light, because I had no idea how you felt about me, or what you felt, if anything. I didn't think you felt I was a pest, or I'd have gone away. And you posted a lot of beautiful nature photos, and hiking photos, and I knew you were aware that I liked both subjects, so I figured maybe I was included in those posts, as part of your intended audience.
And you knew I loved "Notepainting". So I thought I could still stick around and be your #1 fan and cheerleader at the very least. (remember when I was your drill sergeant, way back when? Or when I used to say "I will re-enforce you"? Those were fun times :):) )
Then this year, you started to write songs with words, where you were really expressing your feelings, baring your soul, and believe me, Elizabeth, the intended emotion comes through in your lyrics and voice, and in the melodies. Most songwriters, when they write such songs, are writing about someone in particular, even if they express it vaguely or in metaphor. If the songs and photo captions were meant for me, I would not have guessed. In 2013 I would have, but a lot had happened in your life since then, as I've mentioned.
But there's one other thing I wanted to bring up, because again, I know how hard it can be to say certain things, to open yourself up and be vulnerable. Do you remember when we went through a situation, maybe in 2013 or 2014, where I thought you were mad at me? I can't recall the exact year or month, but it was early on. If you remember that situation, you'll recall that it had to do with a third party. I'm not gonna mention that person now, but you'll know who I'm talking about. If you remember, I even asked if you were hacking me, because it felt like you could almost see right into my computer. That's ludicrous, I know. More likely you were psychic, or had just read my blogs on Myspace, where I had written about the person in my book.
I am pretty psychic, too, Elizabeth (another way in which we are alike), and I want you to know, on the off chance that this is part of the problem, that the person in question is not part of my life and hasn't been for thirty years, since before you were born.
The thing is, I want to be with you. You're the one I want, and I hope you want me in your life too. We could talk about it if you wanted to, or I could just be part of your life from online. Whatever you want. All I would say is that if you are feeling what I'm feeling, please know that it's real. This is real life; people fall in love. The pain of the past two weeks is as real as the love that's behind it. If it were up to me, I wish you were my soulmate.
But the least I would ask is that you don't cut me out of your life. I've been with you for eight years and even if it's "only on Facebook", that still counts for a lot in today's world, and besides, there is the psychic and emotional connection which we've already shared. In other words, we know that two people can fall in love without actually talking.
Please think about it, Elizabeth. I can't imagine my life without you.
Friday, July 31, 2020
Monday, July 27, 2020
Dear Elizabeth
Dear Elizabeth,
I wanted to write tonight, just to communicate my thoughts. I figure it can't hurt, for the usual reason that if you're reading it's because you want to. I hope you had a good weekend.
There's another song on Instagram that I went back and listened to again. It might not be completed, you didn't title it or refer to it as a finished song, but it's the one you captioned "Late Night Ballad Writing Inspired By The Northwoods". If I'm not mistaken, you posted it on Facebook also, and I know I would've commented on it here, at the time. The Instagram date is February 2nd.
It's got a beautiful, haunting melody line. If you've completed it, then along with "The Ocean" and the new song you were working on ten days ago (that I'll call "Canopy" for the lyric I remember), you'll have three excellent songs for a new album. You can really write, Elizabeth. And you bring the imagery alive with your singing.
As you know, because of what happened last week, I've been studying your lyrics. I hope you don't mind. In "Northwoods", after describing the surrounding maples and pines, you sing "how time flies", and then you sing "if I could go back, I'd take all the time in the world", and "if I could go back I promise you I'd be your girl". Finally, you sing "but you're nowhere to be found, in our small town".
So let's say I was interviewing you, for Rolling Stone or some other music magazine. I'd ask about the specifics of those lyrics, like rock writers do. I'd ask "who does the song refer to"?
If I asked you that question myself, as Adam, it might come off as nosy, or - worse - grandiose, as if I'd engaged in wishful thinking. Carly Simon had a song called "You're So Vain", in which she sang the line "you probably think this song is about you" to the protagonist, which was supposedly Warren Beatty. So I'm asking the question as a fictional rock critic, interviewing you for Rolling Stone. In real life, as myself, I'm just trying understand what happened.
The Beatles wrote their share of love songs, but sometimes instead of writing to a girl, they wrote to her boyfriend, almost like advice columnists. If the guy was blowing it, if he was about to lose his girl, John and Paul tried to fix things. That's what they did in "She Loves You". If I were gonna try something similar, I'd write to the guy in your song. Since this is my blog, I can get away with it, because if you aren't reading, no one is gonna see this but me, and if you are reading, then you're reading, and that can only be a good thing. But if I were writing a Beatles "advice song" to the guy in your song, I'd tell him in so many words (and as poetically as possible), "Hey man, don't blow it! You're the luckiest guy in the world! Go back and talk to Elizabeth. She loves you"! I am not being the least bit facetious, either. That would be my advice to him.
Looking at Instagram once again (and still playing the role of nosy rock critic), I see that the Northwoods Ballad was posted around the same general time frame as the two Red Dress pictures (Rocky Mountains and Iceland) that have the captions of beautiful, romantic poetry. So as your Rolling Stone interviewer, I'd ask you if everything in total, the song lyrics and the poetic captions, refer to the same situation.
"Are they all about the same person"? And then finally, I'd ask if "The Ocean" was about the same person as well. As the songwriter, you would expect such questions to come with the territory, especially from Rolling Stone magazine.
I hope you don't mind if I ask the same questions as myself, as Adam, and again I'm not trying to be cute or coy with the above paragraphs. Just trying to lighten the mood a little cause I've been pretty depressed (the understatement of the year). If this was 2013 or 2014, I'd come right out and ask you if any of the lyrics or captions were about me, because back then I was pretty sure you loved me. Was I wrong in those days? If I was, I apologize, but it sure didn't feel like I was wrong.
There can be misunderstanding involved in communicating the way we have, via blog and Facebook. The two people communicating that way have to be really in tune with one another, and I always thought we were, especially when the Facebook ticker existed. That made it easy. Of course, I wish we'd been able to keep talking via FB messenger. I know I blew it on that score, but still, something made you start to communicate with me again in 2013. Maybe you saw I wasn't such a bad guy after all.
I just wish I'd payed closer attention recently because I guess you were trying to tell me something. If the lyrics and poetry are about someone else, then I'm truly a delusional idiot. If they are about someone else, then I'm sorry for any mistaken assumptions I made. But if they are about me - something I would have been sure of in 2013 - then I am sorry for not understanding you in the first place, and if you went through emotional pain because of me, then I am sorry beyond words. I am experiencing the same pain now, and believe me Elizabeth, I know what it feels like. It doesn't go away. Had I known, I would never have spent all that time writing about movies and trivial stuff.
You were a miracle for me when I met you, and you'd have to be me to fully understand it, but I could explain it to you if we ever talked in person, or even on messenger. Have you ever hoped to meet just the right person in your life, the exact right person for you?
That's what happened to me in 2012, when I met you.
What could happen if we actually talked?
I hope we can reconnect at the very least.
What we've had should never be thrown away.
I love you.
xoxoxo :):)
I wanted to write tonight, just to communicate my thoughts. I figure it can't hurt, for the usual reason that if you're reading it's because you want to. I hope you had a good weekend.
There's another song on Instagram that I went back and listened to again. It might not be completed, you didn't title it or refer to it as a finished song, but it's the one you captioned "Late Night Ballad Writing Inspired By The Northwoods". If I'm not mistaken, you posted it on Facebook also, and I know I would've commented on it here, at the time. The Instagram date is February 2nd.
It's got a beautiful, haunting melody line. If you've completed it, then along with "The Ocean" and the new song you were working on ten days ago (that I'll call "Canopy" for the lyric I remember), you'll have three excellent songs for a new album. You can really write, Elizabeth. And you bring the imagery alive with your singing.
As you know, because of what happened last week, I've been studying your lyrics. I hope you don't mind. In "Northwoods", after describing the surrounding maples and pines, you sing "how time flies", and then you sing "if I could go back, I'd take all the time in the world", and "if I could go back I promise you I'd be your girl". Finally, you sing "but you're nowhere to be found, in our small town".
So let's say I was interviewing you, for Rolling Stone or some other music magazine. I'd ask about the specifics of those lyrics, like rock writers do. I'd ask "who does the song refer to"?
If I asked you that question myself, as Adam, it might come off as nosy, or - worse - grandiose, as if I'd engaged in wishful thinking. Carly Simon had a song called "You're So Vain", in which she sang the line "you probably think this song is about you" to the protagonist, which was supposedly Warren Beatty. So I'm asking the question as a fictional rock critic, interviewing you for Rolling Stone. In real life, as myself, I'm just trying understand what happened.
The Beatles wrote their share of love songs, but sometimes instead of writing to a girl, they wrote to her boyfriend, almost like advice columnists. If the guy was blowing it, if he was about to lose his girl, John and Paul tried to fix things. That's what they did in "She Loves You". If I were gonna try something similar, I'd write to the guy in your song. Since this is my blog, I can get away with it, because if you aren't reading, no one is gonna see this but me, and if you are reading, then you're reading, and that can only be a good thing. But if I were writing a Beatles "advice song" to the guy in your song, I'd tell him in so many words (and as poetically as possible), "Hey man, don't blow it! You're the luckiest guy in the world! Go back and talk to Elizabeth. She loves you"! I am not being the least bit facetious, either. That would be my advice to him.
Looking at Instagram once again (and still playing the role of nosy rock critic), I see that the Northwoods Ballad was posted around the same general time frame as the two Red Dress pictures (Rocky Mountains and Iceland) that have the captions of beautiful, romantic poetry. So as your Rolling Stone interviewer, I'd ask you if everything in total, the song lyrics and the poetic captions, refer to the same situation.
"Are they all about the same person"? And then finally, I'd ask if "The Ocean" was about the same person as well. As the songwriter, you would expect such questions to come with the territory, especially from Rolling Stone magazine.
I hope you don't mind if I ask the same questions as myself, as Adam, and again I'm not trying to be cute or coy with the above paragraphs. Just trying to lighten the mood a little cause I've been pretty depressed (the understatement of the year). If this was 2013 or 2014, I'd come right out and ask you if any of the lyrics or captions were about me, because back then I was pretty sure you loved me. Was I wrong in those days? If I was, I apologize, but it sure didn't feel like I was wrong.
There can be misunderstanding involved in communicating the way we have, via blog and Facebook. The two people communicating that way have to be really in tune with one another, and I always thought we were, especially when the Facebook ticker existed. That made it easy. Of course, I wish we'd been able to keep talking via FB messenger. I know I blew it on that score, but still, something made you start to communicate with me again in 2013. Maybe you saw I wasn't such a bad guy after all.
I just wish I'd payed closer attention recently because I guess you were trying to tell me something. If the lyrics and poetry are about someone else, then I'm truly a delusional idiot. If they are about someone else, then I'm sorry for any mistaken assumptions I made. But if they are about me - something I would have been sure of in 2013 - then I am sorry for not understanding you in the first place, and if you went through emotional pain because of me, then I am sorry beyond words. I am experiencing the same pain now, and believe me Elizabeth, I know what it feels like. It doesn't go away. Had I known, I would never have spent all that time writing about movies and trivial stuff.
You were a miracle for me when I met you, and you'd have to be me to fully understand it, but I could explain it to you if we ever talked in person, or even on messenger. Have you ever hoped to meet just the right person in your life, the exact right person for you?
That's what happened to me in 2012, when I met you.
What could happen if we actually talked?
I hope we can reconnect at the very least.
What we've had should never be thrown away.
I love you.
xoxoxo :):)
Friday, July 24, 2020
A Few Thoughts
I'm really tired tonight, without the mental energy to do a lot of writing but I'll write what I can. I haven't been doing much the past few days. Just working. On my breaks I go home and read a few pages of Neil Peart's final book "Far and Wide". I am grateful for Neil. His writing is propping me up right now, and it blows my mind to think that after all he did in his life, and what he meant in my life, that he's now a spirit in the sky. Thanks, Neil. Man, life is short. Well, it's long and it's short. The elasticity of time, etc. But yeah, I'm wiped out.
Eric Clapton once sang : "Why does love got to be so sad"?, and the answer is - it doesn't.
John Lennon sang : "All you need is love", and he was right, but I'd add that you also need communication. Speaking for myself, I may have been neglectful in that respect, writing only movie reviews and glib quips for the past couple of years. I think I know what happened here. I'm not going to go into detail, but Elizabeth, because you and I are on the same wavelength, you can understand psychically what I'm talking about. Believe it or not, I can feel what you're feeling from 2000 miles away. I've been hit by the same tidal wave, and it's overwhelming. It's a mental thing, involving chemistry and magnetism as I mentioned a day or two ago. When you love someone, and they love you, you're connected, no matter how far apart. Heisenberg would understand. It's action at a distance, and it's very real. Humans can be physically distant, but spirits travel. You've felt this in your sleep, and it happens in your waking life too. Love is the most real thing in human existence. You know it when you feel it, there is absolutely no mistaking it, and there's no mistaking the pain that can be associated with it when there's a conflict or a misunderstanding, which is what has happened here. And the pain in this case, for me, has been overwhelming.
I had an idea today for a sequel to "The Ocean". What if the two people in the song didn't go their separate ways? What if they realized their relationship hadn't been a mistake and that they really loved each other? Then the story would turn out to have a happy ending, and the tidal wave this time would be one of immense joy, not to mention relief.
That would be a great two song combination, I think.
The only other thing I know tonight is that I love the picture of the channeled "1950s Housewife" on Instagram. Everything about that picture is perfect. I'm not being chauvinistic, and anyway a housewife is one of the most noble of occupations (my Mom was a housewife) so to heck with being PC, but in the photograph all the decor looks right out of Good Housekeeping, in a time I would have liked to have lived in myself. I'm a child of the 60s, which was pretty close, but the 1950s, for me, was picture perfect. As is the lady in the photo, the one with the beautiful smile.
I'll write more tomorrow, hope you had a good day.
Eric Clapton once sang : "Why does love got to be so sad"?, and the answer is - it doesn't.
John Lennon sang : "All you need is love", and he was right, but I'd add that you also need communication. Speaking for myself, I may have been neglectful in that respect, writing only movie reviews and glib quips for the past couple of years. I think I know what happened here. I'm not going to go into detail, but Elizabeth, because you and I are on the same wavelength, you can understand psychically what I'm talking about. Believe it or not, I can feel what you're feeling from 2000 miles away. I've been hit by the same tidal wave, and it's overwhelming. It's a mental thing, involving chemistry and magnetism as I mentioned a day or two ago. When you love someone, and they love you, you're connected, no matter how far apart. Heisenberg would understand. It's action at a distance, and it's very real. Humans can be physically distant, but spirits travel. You've felt this in your sleep, and it happens in your waking life too. Love is the most real thing in human existence. You know it when you feel it, there is absolutely no mistaking it, and there's no mistaking the pain that can be associated with it when there's a conflict or a misunderstanding, which is what has happened here. And the pain in this case, for me, has been overwhelming.
I had an idea today for a sequel to "The Ocean". What if the two people in the song didn't go their separate ways? What if they realized their relationship hadn't been a mistake and that they really loved each other? Then the story would turn out to have a happy ending, and the tidal wave this time would be one of immense joy, not to mention relief.
That would be a great two song combination, I think.
The only other thing I know tonight is that I love the picture of the channeled "1950s Housewife" on Instagram. Everything about that picture is perfect. I'm not being chauvinistic, and anyway a housewife is one of the most noble of occupations (my Mom was a housewife) so to heck with being PC, but in the photograph all the decor looks right out of Good Housekeeping, in a time I would have liked to have lived in myself. I'm a child of the 60s, which was pretty close, but the 1950s, for me, was picture perfect. As is the lady in the photo, the one with the beautiful smile.
I'll write more tomorrow, hope you had a good day.
Wednesday, July 22, 2020
For Elizabeth (again)
Tonight I will try to write in shorter sentences, in order to state my thoughts as clearly as possible and avoid tangents. I'm a bit of a mess these past few days, so please excuse any unclear paragraphs or unfinished thoughts. At a time like this I have so much I want to say that it can get tangled up in places.
The first thing I want to say is that I hope you had a nice day, Elizabeth.
This morning I listened to "The Ocean" on Instagram (I am "koberdee" over there, in honor of Kobi the dog). I listened again to the lyrics, and re-read your comment about the song. You described it as "dealing with intense feelings", so I guess at the time you were writing the lyrics, you doing just that - coping with strong emotions. I hope it's okay if I quote some of your words. You sing about going separate ways with an unnamed person ("admit it was a mistake"), and then comes the key phrase, "cause I'm full of heart". That's the line that hit me when I first heard the song because it's so true. You have an incredible depth of feeling and it shows in everything you create. I know in this case, of the lyrics to your song, that those words are meant on a very personal level. You then continue by singing, "and it's like a tidal wave, when it washes over me". I don't know who the song is about (it sounds like it's about a person), but it's clear that the emotions you're describing were very strong and probably not easy to deal with. From your comment, it sounds like you were dealing with those emotions at the time you wrote the song, because you said it cheered you up to write and sing about it.
I don't know the details of the lyrics, who they're about or what situation, but just the fact that they describe intense feelings, as you say, tells me that you were going through something difficult at the time. It's a beautiful song by the way, and I like the way you use the metaphor of the shore versus the ocean, safety versus turbulence, then you observe that "starting over is the hardest part". You did an excellent job of lining up the words and syllables in a rhythmic sense, and your imagery in a lyrical sense. But I mention "The Ocean" because I'm trying to understand what you're feeling, even though you wrote it a few months ago and you may have processed those feelings by now.
But then, also on Instagram, I saw a photo - a spectacular Red Dress picture! - that was taken at Rocky Mountain National Park. In the comment you included some lines of poetry that sound very passionate and romantic, "soul stirring" to paraphrase the writer (was it you?). That picture was posted in February, about a month before you recorded "The Ocean". Then there is one other Red Dress photo taken in Iceland, that you posted in January of this year. That pic also has a line of poetry that refers to "two flames growing closer". Those captions sound more.......hopeful is the best word I can come up with at the moment. Romantic for sure. In other words, in January you used the words "two flames growing closer" to caption the photo, but in March - in "The Ocean" - you included the lyric "go our separate ways".
I don't want to guess or speculate on what any of those captions referred to, but it sounds overall like it describes a relationship.
Then finally, in the clip from your new song, that I heard last week, I remember a line that went "the only time I feel found is under your canopy". That was from, in your words, "a love song not to a human", which is why I guessed it was to a tree or just Nature in general. But again, as in "The Ocean", the lyrics are more vulnerable.
Elizabeth, I hope it's okay that I am examining your words, because I'm trying to understand how you've been feeling this year, maybe dealing with some heavy duty ups and downs. I'm also trying to understand why you ended up blocking me, and if the two things are related.
I wondered if you went through a relationship difficulty early this year, but then I thought "why would that lead to me getting blocked"? I've been your FB friend for 8 years, and all I do is press "like". But those poems and song lyrics describe something that, it seems to me, is very personal to you, something intense that you've been going through, and it also seems like I got blocked due to something I wrote in the blog or for something having to do with me in general.
Please know, Elizabeth, that all I'm trying to do is understand you, and what you are feeling. I just want to say a few more things tonight, and then tomorrow I will continue. I hope you are reading and will keep doing so. Please read between the lines as well, and keep in mind what I've said in the other blogs. What I'm going to say now is just me wearing my heart on my sleeve, as I tend to do, but it's a good heart. And I don't presume to speak for you with these thoughts, so I'm just saying "if". But it's good to try and understand someone you care about with all your heart and soul, and it's good to open your heart to that person, and so I'm gonna do that by just saying if :
If I knew you cared for me, you'd never have to wonder how much I care for you. You'd know it all the time.
If I knew you needed me, I would be there for you every hour of every day, in every way, to help, to listen, or just to be present.
You have no idea how much I've needed you, so now I'm telling you.
If you needed me to stand aside and give you space, I'd do that too, at any time.
If you were mine and I was yours, there'd never be anyone else (and there isn't now). I'd only have eyes for you.
If you loved me you'd know I love you. You'd have no doubt, ever.
Then we'd be free. Free from worry, free from fear. Free to be ourselves, each to each other, individuals but together............. In Art and Life.
If I knew what you feel.
xoxoxoxoxo :):)
The first thing I want to say is that I hope you had a nice day, Elizabeth.
This morning I listened to "The Ocean" on Instagram (I am "koberdee" over there, in honor of Kobi the dog). I listened again to the lyrics, and re-read your comment about the song. You described it as "dealing with intense feelings", so I guess at the time you were writing the lyrics, you doing just that - coping with strong emotions. I hope it's okay if I quote some of your words. You sing about going separate ways with an unnamed person ("admit it was a mistake"), and then comes the key phrase, "cause I'm full of heart". That's the line that hit me when I first heard the song because it's so true. You have an incredible depth of feeling and it shows in everything you create. I know in this case, of the lyrics to your song, that those words are meant on a very personal level. You then continue by singing, "and it's like a tidal wave, when it washes over me". I don't know who the song is about (it sounds like it's about a person), but it's clear that the emotions you're describing were very strong and probably not easy to deal with. From your comment, it sounds like you were dealing with those emotions at the time you wrote the song, because you said it cheered you up to write and sing about it.
I don't know the details of the lyrics, who they're about or what situation, but just the fact that they describe intense feelings, as you say, tells me that you were going through something difficult at the time. It's a beautiful song by the way, and I like the way you use the metaphor of the shore versus the ocean, safety versus turbulence, then you observe that "starting over is the hardest part". You did an excellent job of lining up the words and syllables in a rhythmic sense, and your imagery in a lyrical sense. But I mention "The Ocean" because I'm trying to understand what you're feeling, even though you wrote it a few months ago and you may have processed those feelings by now.
But then, also on Instagram, I saw a photo - a spectacular Red Dress picture! - that was taken at Rocky Mountain National Park. In the comment you included some lines of poetry that sound very passionate and romantic, "soul stirring" to paraphrase the writer (was it you?). That picture was posted in February, about a month before you recorded "The Ocean". Then there is one other Red Dress photo taken in Iceland, that you posted in January of this year. That pic also has a line of poetry that refers to "two flames growing closer". Those captions sound more.......hopeful is the best word I can come up with at the moment. Romantic for sure. In other words, in January you used the words "two flames growing closer" to caption the photo, but in March - in "The Ocean" - you included the lyric "go our separate ways".
I don't want to guess or speculate on what any of those captions referred to, but it sounds overall like it describes a relationship.
Then finally, in the clip from your new song, that I heard last week, I remember a line that went "the only time I feel found is under your canopy". That was from, in your words, "a love song not to a human", which is why I guessed it was to a tree or just Nature in general. But again, as in "The Ocean", the lyrics are more vulnerable.
Elizabeth, I hope it's okay that I am examining your words, because I'm trying to understand how you've been feeling this year, maybe dealing with some heavy duty ups and downs. I'm also trying to understand why you ended up blocking me, and if the two things are related.
I wondered if you went through a relationship difficulty early this year, but then I thought "why would that lead to me getting blocked"? I've been your FB friend for 8 years, and all I do is press "like". But those poems and song lyrics describe something that, it seems to me, is very personal to you, something intense that you've been going through, and it also seems like I got blocked due to something I wrote in the blog or for something having to do with me in general.
Please know, Elizabeth, that all I'm trying to do is understand you, and what you are feeling. I just want to say a few more things tonight, and then tomorrow I will continue. I hope you are reading and will keep doing so. Please read between the lines as well, and keep in mind what I've said in the other blogs. What I'm going to say now is just me wearing my heart on my sleeve, as I tend to do, but it's a good heart. And I don't presume to speak for you with these thoughts, so I'm just saying "if". But it's good to try and understand someone you care about with all your heart and soul, and it's good to open your heart to that person, and so I'm gonna do that by just saying if :
If I knew you cared for me, you'd never have to wonder how much I care for you. You'd know it all the time.
If I knew you needed me, I would be there for you every hour of every day, in every way, to help, to listen, or just to be present.
You have no idea how much I've needed you, so now I'm telling you.
If you needed me to stand aside and give you space, I'd do that too, at any time.
If you were mine and I was yours, there'd never be anyone else (and there isn't now). I'd only have eyes for you.
If you loved me you'd know I love you. You'd have no doubt, ever.
Then we'd be free. Free from worry, free from fear. Free to be ourselves, each to each other, individuals but together............. In Art and Life.
If I knew what you feel.
xoxoxoxoxo :):)
Tuesday, July 21, 2020
For Elizabeth, continued
I am just sick about what happened. Sick at heart. I can't concentrate or think about anything else. This afternoon I took the car to get smogged. Normally, that would stress me out, worrying if it was gonna pass, and it did, but this time I wasn't even thinking about the smog test.. All I could think of was why? Why did this happen? It has hit me like a ton of bricks and I just feel horrible. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since it happened.
I'm just gonna write off the top of my head, just to get the thoughts out. I'll probably ramble on, this way and that, but it'll help me to write about it and once again try to make sense of the situation.
I take consolation in the possibility that you are reading this, Elizabeth, because if you are, it means that you care, and if you care, then maybe there's hope.
The way I look at it, there can only be a couple of possibilities as to why you blocked me. I know I went through all of this last night, but I'm probably gonna repeat myself a few times, so thanks for bearing with me. The first possibility is Facebook. Again, I know I mentioned this already, but for the life of me it just doesn't make sense that you would block me for anything Facebook-related. I know I press "like" every time you post, but that's because I like what you do. I love it, in fact. I'd have pressed the "love" icon instead, but I didn't wanna come on too strong. But Elizabeth, you know I love everything about your creative life - now you're branching out into songwriting, with words and music, and personalised songwriting, with heartfelt lyrics in the best singer/songwriter tradition. How awesome is that? So of course I press "like". How could I not? I've been with you this whole time, online at any rate, and I've watched you bloom into an incredible artist. "Notepainting" was a beautiful and original album. How many young musicians compose their own piano music, and on top of that have an artistic concept to go with it? I've never seen an album cover like that. And"The Red Dress" series! Who would've thought of that? Well, I know who. You! So of course I press "like" (and what I really mean to press is "love"). And there's more and more - you draw, you paint, you take beautiful nature photographs, you're a professional videographer, you've had your film playing outside Staples Center for goodness sake, you've taken hundreds of great concert photos and band portraits..........and I've been here to see it all. But Elizabeth, I can't imagine that just pressing the "like" button was enough to cause you to block me. I mean, if it was, I'm sorry for being a nuisance. And I'm gutwrenched that, by being blocked, I won't be able to see any more of your artistic creations. I've loved all your recent posts in Stories, where you caption your photos with things like "Happiness is living across from a prairie". Now I won't be able to see those, or anything else, and I'm heartsick about it and hoping you'll change your mind. But again, I just don't see how this could've resulted from anything on Facebook.
Speaking of Facebook, I just wanted to re-clarify why I stopped commenting on your posts and just stuck with the "like" button. It was because of what happened early on with our direct messaging, and then again in 2014 or so, when I thought you and John were in a relationship. I thought we had some great conversations in the Summer of 2012. I know I upset the balance by saying the Three Little Words, but I couldn't help it, and by early 2013 things seemed okay again. By that point, though, I thought I'd better just stick with the "like" button, and keep all my personal comments at the blog, which was then at Myspace. And as I've noted, I was pretty sure you were reading those blogs, because of your posts on Facebook that corresponded to them (and I know I wasn't imagining it, there were too many of them and they were too exact). So by that time, early 2013, I thought, "Hey, it looks like Elizabeth isn't mad at me after all", which made my heart soar. By mid-2013, Myspace collapsed and I went over to Blogger. From there I continued writing directly to you.
I am an intuitive person, but I am decidedly not a person who lets his imagination get carried away. I'm certainly not "forward" by nature - I'm shy - and what I mean is that I never in a million years would have used the endearments I used in writing to you, if I thought I was bothering you. But my intuition, coupled with what I would see from you on the Facebook ticker, told me you didn't mind. And I also figured, "I'm writing to her on my personal blog. The only way she can see these words is if she types in the url herself, which means she wants to read them". Hence, if you didn't read, no harm done, and if you did, it was because you wanted to.
Looking back, I'd have thought if you were gonna block me, it would have happened then, when I was addressing you as my Sweet Baby. Theoretically, let's imagine you went to my Blogger page for the first time, and saw a love letter from me. If it made you mad, or creeped you out, wouldn't you have blocked me back then, after reading the very first one? But you didn't. And again, I am a reserved person, a shy person, and I never, ever, ever would have written letters like those if I thought I was coming off as a creep, in other words if they weren't wanted. I would never want to come off as a creep, because I am not a creep, as you know. But my intuition told me it was okay, because you read those blogs and didn't get mad at me. And you had to come to my page to read them, they were never thrust upon you, something I would never have done.
So I addressed you as Sweet Baby and My Darling, and I meant every word I wrote. I also kept in mind our age difference. I always tried to keep things light, keep the emotions light, once again to make certain you knew I wasn't a weirdo. I was raised to be a Gentleman, I've got good values and I'm a straight arrow. But I also wanted to write about interesting things, because you are such an intelligent person. In that respect, the age difference vanished because you, like me, can converse on most any subject. We had that in common, which was awesome, I thought, and we both love music and nature.
Of course, had I just assumed all of this, as Some Guy Out In Facebook Land, then I would indeed have been a creep, and I would have been letting my imagination get the best of me. But intuition plays a huge role in life, as does chemistry and magnetism, and when a person is attuned to those factors and pays close attention, he or she can sense if there is a connection. I'm just saying "a connection", mind you, and I would never presume to speak for you, Elizabeth. Only you know how you felt about me, and what I was writing in those days. By my words I made it clear what I felt. But on Facebook I said nothing (except "like"), for all of the above reasons.
And by 2015, when I thought you were with John, I gave up, or "stopped" would be a better word. But the thing is, you always seemed happy in the days when I was writing those blogs, the ones meant just for you, and I would have gone on writing them, had John not been in the picture.
The truth is, that love can be expressed, or not expressed, in so many ways. If I thought you wanted me to write that way to you, I'd never have stopped. I'd have written to you every day. And you could have chosen whether or not to read it.
And if I thought you didn't want me to write that way, I would not have.
Love can be so many things, and be communicated in so many ways. It can be passionate and vulnerable all the way down to noble and reserved. We could list all the ways it can be felt and expressed, but the bottom line in this case is that I became your Facebook friend, we hit it off and had some great conversations, then for a long time it became an Intuitive Thing - without direct communication but with an awareness nonetheless. And it became an awesome Artistic Appreciation thing! Holy smokes, that's been one of the best parts!
I am going to sign off for now, because the hour is late, but I will continue tomorrow and try to examine the other possibility, that something from the blog caused the problem.
I hope to understand what you are feeling, Elizabeth. Please give me that chance.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
I'm just gonna write off the top of my head, just to get the thoughts out. I'll probably ramble on, this way and that, but it'll help me to write about it and once again try to make sense of the situation.
I take consolation in the possibility that you are reading this, Elizabeth, because if you are, it means that you care, and if you care, then maybe there's hope.
The way I look at it, there can only be a couple of possibilities as to why you blocked me. I know I went through all of this last night, but I'm probably gonna repeat myself a few times, so thanks for bearing with me. The first possibility is Facebook. Again, I know I mentioned this already, but for the life of me it just doesn't make sense that you would block me for anything Facebook-related. I know I press "like" every time you post, but that's because I like what you do. I love it, in fact. I'd have pressed the "love" icon instead, but I didn't wanna come on too strong. But Elizabeth, you know I love everything about your creative life - now you're branching out into songwriting, with words and music, and personalised songwriting, with heartfelt lyrics in the best singer/songwriter tradition. How awesome is that? So of course I press "like". How could I not? I've been with you this whole time, online at any rate, and I've watched you bloom into an incredible artist. "Notepainting" was a beautiful and original album. How many young musicians compose their own piano music, and on top of that have an artistic concept to go with it? I've never seen an album cover like that. And"The Red Dress" series! Who would've thought of that? Well, I know who. You! So of course I press "like" (and what I really mean to press is "love"). And there's more and more - you draw, you paint, you take beautiful nature photographs, you're a professional videographer, you've had your film playing outside Staples Center for goodness sake, you've taken hundreds of great concert photos and band portraits..........and I've been here to see it all. But Elizabeth, I can't imagine that just pressing the "like" button was enough to cause you to block me. I mean, if it was, I'm sorry for being a nuisance. And I'm gutwrenched that, by being blocked, I won't be able to see any more of your artistic creations. I've loved all your recent posts in Stories, where you caption your photos with things like "Happiness is living across from a prairie". Now I won't be able to see those, or anything else, and I'm heartsick about it and hoping you'll change your mind. But again, I just don't see how this could've resulted from anything on Facebook.
Speaking of Facebook, I just wanted to re-clarify why I stopped commenting on your posts and just stuck with the "like" button. It was because of what happened early on with our direct messaging, and then again in 2014 or so, when I thought you and John were in a relationship. I thought we had some great conversations in the Summer of 2012. I know I upset the balance by saying the Three Little Words, but I couldn't help it, and by early 2013 things seemed okay again. By that point, though, I thought I'd better just stick with the "like" button, and keep all my personal comments at the blog, which was then at Myspace. And as I've noted, I was pretty sure you were reading those blogs, because of your posts on Facebook that corresponded to them (and I know I wasn't imagining it, there were too many of them and they were too exact). So by that time, early 2013, I thought, "Hey, it looks like Elizabeth isn't mad at me after all", which made my heart soar. By mid-2013, Myspace collapsed and I went over to Blogger. From there I continued writing directly to you.
I am an intuitive person, but I am decidedly not a person who lets his imagination get carried away. I'm certainly not "forward" by nature - I'm shy - and what I mean is that I never in a million years would have used the endearments I used in writing to you, if I thought I was bothering you. But my intuition, coupled with what I would see from you on the Facebook ticker, told me you didn't mind. And I also figured, "I'm writing to her on my personal blog. The only way she can see these words is if she types in the url herself, which means she wants to read them". Hence, if you didn't read, no harm done, and if you did, it was because you wanted to.
Looking back, I'd have thought if you were gonna block me, it would have happened then, when I was addressing you as my Sweet Baby. Theoretically, let's imagine you went to my Blogger page for the first time, and saw a love letter from me. If it made you mad, or creeped you out, wouldn't you have blocked me back then, after reading the very first one? But you didn't. And again, I am a reserved person, a shy person, and I never, ever, ever would have written letters like those if I thought I was coming off as a creep, in other words if they weren't wanted. I would never want to come off as a creep, because I am not a creep, as you know. But my intuition told me it was okay, because you read those blogs and didn't get mad at me. And you had to come to my page to read them, they were never thrust upon you, something I would never have done.
So I addressed you as Sweet Baby and My Darling, and I meant every word I wrote. I also kept in mind our age difference. I always tried to keep things light, keep the emotions light, once again to make certain you knew I wasn't a weirdo. I was raised to be a Gentleman, I've got good values and I'm a straight arrow. But I also wanted to write about interesting things, because you are such an intelligent person. In that respect, the age difference vanished because you, like me, can converse on most any subject. We had that in common, which was awesome, I thought, and we both love music and nature.
Of course, had I just assumed all of this, as Some Guy Out In Facebook Land, then I would indeed have been a creep, and I would have been letting my imagination get the best of me. But intuition plays a huge role in life, as does chemistry and magnetism, and when a person is attuned to those factors and pays close attention, he or she can sense if there is a connection. I'm just saying "a connection", mind you, and I would never presume to speak for you, Elizabeth. Only you know how you felt about me, and what I was writing in those days. By my words I made it clear what I felt. But on Facebook I said nothing (except "like"), for all of the above reasons.
And by 2015, when I thought you were with John, I gave up, or "stopped" would be a better word. But the thing is, you always seemed happy in the days when I was writing those blogs, the ones meant just for you, and I would have gone on writing them, had John not been in the picture.
The truth is, that love can be expressed, or not expressed, in so many ways. If I thought you wanted me to write that way to you, I'd never have stopped. I'd have written to you every day. And you could have chosen whether or not to read it.
And if I thought you didn't want me to write that way, I would not have.
Love can be so many things, and be communicated in so many ways. It can be passionate and vulnerable all the way down to noble and reserved. We could list all the ways it can be felt and expressed, but the bottom line in this case is that I became your Facebook friend, we hit it off and had some great conversations, then for a long time it became an Intuitive Thing - without direct communication but with an awareness nonetheless. And it became an awesome Artistic Appreciation thing! Holy smokes, that's been one of the best parts!
I am going to sign off for now, because the hour is late, but I will continue tomorrow and try to examine the other possibility, that something from the blog caused the problem.
I hope to understand what you are feeling, Elizabeth. Please give me that chance.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Monday, July 20, 2020
For Elizabeth
Dear Elizabeth,
It looks like you have blocked me on Facebook. I'm guessing blocked rather than unfriended because according to FB, if you'd unfriended me I'd still be able to see your profile picture, which I can't. I also ruled out that you'd deactivated or deleted your account, because when I signed out of FB and searched your name, your profile did come up and I could see it.. But when I'm signed in I get nothing. So from what I can tell, you blocked me.
Can I ask why? I mean, it came out of nowhere and has really knocked me for a loop.
To me, blocking would signify you're upset about something. I know that sometimes, when people want to pare down their friends list, maybe to include only the folks they know "in person", they might unfriend a lot of others. To block, though, is a whole different thing. I've been your friend for over eight years, and I've tried to be as unobtrusive as I can be. I only ever press "like", I refrain from commenting directly on FB, and I've kept everything else here at the blog. I can only think of two reasons why a person would block someone. Either the blockee is worrisome, i.e. a nutcase to whatever degree, or else he or she is a friend or acquaintance who's upset the blocker in some way. You've known me long enough to know I'm not the former, so all I can think of is that you're mad at me. Blocking indicates feelings are involved. If I've done something to make you angry at me, I wish you'd say so. I'd give anything for a chance to fix it.
I've wracked my brain this afternoon to try and figure out what happened. As far as Facebook is concerned, I can't see how the trouble came from there. As I say, all I've ever done, at least for several years, is just to press "like" when you post, and that's because I do like your music, your photos, your art, etc. I only stopped posting comments because in 2012, you got upset with me. Today I wondered, "do I come off as too enthusiastic", like an overeager fanboy? But then I thought, if that were the case, you'd have blocked me years ago. And anyway, the whole point of posting something on FB is for people to see and/or hear it, to give them a chance to like it. "Like" is the whole point of a Facebook response, to say "I like what you do"! What's not to like about a "like", right? And from me it's from the heart, every time. You're a wonderful artist in every respect, as I've always said. What you create hits me in my soul, I am an intuitive person and connect to what you are doing on that level, and I love your love of nature, your emotional feel in music, and just the way you express yourself in the world.
So, I can't understand how the blocking was generated by anything I do on Facebook, on your page or mine. On yours, I only ever press "like" and on mine, I only ever post photos, music and the occasional goofy item, like a David Lynch video. I never post politics or the kind of stuff that usually causes someone to unfriend another person. But again, this appears to be a block rather than an unfriend.
So if it's not any action on Facebook (or if it is please tell me), then the only other place of origin must be here at the blog. And again, I just don't understand what it could be. I only ever write movie reviews, with the occasional comment about a book or a brief sentence about Trump, which I know wouldn't offend you. It's true that when you post, I comment about it here rather than on FB, but I've been doing that for years. When I do it, I put your name in the blog title so you'll know it's for you. To be honest, for a long time now I've never been sure if you do read this blog anymore. Back in 2013-15, it was easier to tell, because you'd respond on FB in a certain way, by posting something that would correlate. For instance, one time I wrote "life is magic" and an hour later I saw a "like" by you of a Calvin & Hobbes cartoon that said the same thing. That type of "back and forth" evolved into what I assumed was a new form of communication, and it worked like a charm (or seemed to) for several years, until Facebook did away with their news ticker. But I kept using the blog to communicate because, back in those days, I was pretty certain you were reading it. And, I've been using it ever since, to write back to you whenever you post.
I know that from 2013 to about 2015, my blogs to you were very personal, but again, from our "back and forth" communication on Facebook, I thought there was at least something mutual, and I always tried to write as a gentleman. My goodness, if you were gonna block me for coming on too strong, I would think you'd have done it back then. But the thing is, I didn't come on too strong, because anything I wrote was right here on my own page. The only way you could've read it would be if you had wanted to. I just wanted you to know my feelings, and I think if you'd read those blogs and been repulsed, you'd have blocked or unfriended me years ago. But the bottom line is that I wrote them here, where the only way you would see them was if you chose to. Also, everything I wrote I tried to express from the highest point of honor. I never, ever, wrote anything cheap or trashy concerning you and me, not only because I am not a trashy person and didn't feel those things, but because of the exact opposite, because meeting you was one in a million for me. There is no one like you, Elizabeth. Moreover I kept things utterly respectful; respecting our age difference and the physical distance between us. Though my feelings were true, I tried to keep it discreet because it was written online. That's why I kept it on my own page, my own blog, where you could read it or ignore it at your discretion. This blog was started for you.
Then, around 2015 or maybe 2016, I gave up altogether, the reason being that I thought you were in a relationship with John. I thought, "well, I guess I'd better step out of the way", and if you go back and look at those blogs you'll see I did so. At that point, the blog began to turn into movie reviews and general commentary. Ever since then, I only wrote to you when you posted something on FB, or when I had something to relate that I thought you might like. I used to sometimes start the blog "Hey Elizabeth"! That was after I toned things down. Before that, I always called you "my darling" or "sweet baby", but I kept my feelings restricted to the blog, so the only way you'd ever see them was if you wanted to. In short, you'd have to come here to read them, otherwise you'd never see them. And I think you must have seen those blogs.
Had John not been in the picture, I'd have kept writing that way, because a) I assumed you were reading, and b) they were my true feelings, and c) I thought you didn't mind. Once you and he were apparently involved, I stopped using those endearments. But they, too, were from the heart and I meant them in the best way. For the record, my feelings have never changed. I've just kept them to myself out of respect and to be unobtrusive, but I think you know that already.
All of this is meant to say that I can't imagine my personal feelings have caused you to block me after all this time, out of the blue. Just the other day, you seemed really happy. You posted the clip from your new song, then you posted the pic of the prairie. All I did was press "like" on both, and the next thing I know, I'm blocked (though it took me a couple days to figure out that was the case).
So all I can gather is that, whatever the cause, it must have come from the blog. I know I wrote a bunch of "weird stuff" recently, like my Darwin jokes and my story about "Matthew", but that's just my stupid sense of humor and my weird imagination. I've gone over every recent blog and I can't for the life of me figure out what I wrote that would cause you to block me. Yet blocking someone indicates anger, it's an impulsive action. "You jerk! That's it, I'm blocking you". So it's gotta be something I wrote.
Elizabeth, I wouldn't have taken the time to say all of this if it were anyone but you. You mean the world to me, and again I have to stress that anything I express is meant in the best way. You know me well enough to know 100% that I am not some weirdo sitting at the other end of an internet connection. I'm just me, and you wouldn't be here reading this if you didn't know that for certain. But even more than that - and this has got to be stressed most importantly - you have meant so much to me, just as Elizabeth the person, just doing what you do - making music, taking photos, loving nature, painting, etc. Just being who you are, you have brought so much joy to my life I can't begin to tell you. It's not superficial, it's for real. I'm an Alzheimer's caregiver as you know, and in my workaday life I don't always have a lot of joy. That's why when I see one of your posts, of a beautiful new song or photograph, and the words you write to accompany it, I light up. Because it makes my day.
You make my day.
I've felt a kinship with you ever since we met, because we like the same things. But the thing is, Elizabeth, that if it were any other person posting the same things, it wouldn't be the same.
It's because it's You. It's because you're the Artist with a Capital A, as I've always said. I've been with you since Autre Temps, and I've been on your side all the time, every single day. But even more than that, you're a very special person, a special lady and a beautiful spirit. You're also extremely intelligent, and I think you know all the things I am saying in this blog are true. Knowing you has been a wonderful thing for me, such a blessing and more than I can express in words.
I just want to ask if you'd consider unblocking me, or at least let me know why you blocked me? If you unblocked me, I could send you another friend request. I see I am not blocked on your Instagram. Would it be okay to message you there? I only ask because it hurts not to know why this has happened. The truth is that it makes me feel like crying. It has meant so much to me to be your friend for the past eight years, and to just have it taken away with no reason..........it hurts a lot.
All of this is what I'm feeling, but what about you? You must be feeling something also. Whatever it is, won't you tell me? Communication is the great problem solver in life. We're living in stressful enough times as it is. Your lyrics in "The Ocean" show an incredible depth of feeling on your part, whatever they may pertain to specifically. If I did something to hurt you, wrote something, whatever the case, it would kill me not to know what it was. If I know, I can at least understand it and fix the problem. I am hurting tonight, because I don't know what happened, and it would also kill me to think you don't consider me your friend because of something I have done.
Anyway, I've probably written a lot in this blog. I did so because of you, Elizabeth. You must've known that blocking me would come as a huge shock to me, and you must have done it for a specific reason. If you'll consider unblocking me, I'd like another chance to be your friend. You matter to me and your feelings matter to me. I want to know what you are thinking and feeling also, so I can understand why this happened.
I hope you read this, and thanks for reading if you do. If you came here to read it, it shows you care, and I care about you too. You are the absolute best, Elizabeth.
Love, Adam.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
It looks like you have blocked me on Facebook. I'm guessing blocked rather than unfriended because according to FB, if you'd unfriended me I'd still be able to see your profile picture, which I can't. I also ruled out that you'd deactivated or deleted your account, because when I signed out of FB and searched your name, your profile did come up and I could see it.. But when I'm signed in I get nothing. So from what I can tell, you blocked me.
Can I ask why? I mean, it came out of nowhere and has really knocked me for a loop.
To me, blocking would signify you're upset about something. I know that sometimes, when people want to pare down their friends list, maybe to include only the folks they know "in person", they might unfriend a lot of others. To block, though, is a whole different thing. I've been your friend for over eight years, and I've tried to be as unobtrusive as I can be. I only ever press "like", I refrain from commenting directly on FB, and I've kept everything else here at the blog. I can only think of two reasons why a person would block someone. Either the blockee is worrisome, i.e. a nutcase to whatever degree, or else he or she is a friend or acquaintance who's upset the blocker in some way. You've known me long enough to know I'm not the former, so all I can think of is that you're mad at me. Blocking indicates feelings are involved. If I've done something to make you angry at me, I wish you'd say so. I'd give anything for a chance to fix it.
I've wracked my brain this afternoon to try and figure out what happened. As far as Facebook is concerned, I can't see how the trouble came from there. As I say, all I've ever done, at least for several years, is just to press "like" when you post, and that's because I do like your music, your photos, your art, etc. I only stopped posting comments because in 2012, you got upset with me. Today I wondered, "do I come off as too enthusiastic", like an overeager fanboy? But then I thought, if that were the case, you'd have blocked me years ago. And anyway, the whole point of posting something on FB is for people to see and/or hear it, to give them a chance to like it. "Like" is the whole point of a Facebook response, to say "I like what you do"! What's not to like about a "like", right? And from me it's from the heart, every time. You're a wonderful artist in every respect, as I've always said. What you create hits me in my soul, I am an intuitive person and connect to what you are doing on that level, and I love your love of nature, your emotional feel in music, and just the way you express yourself in the world.
So, I can't understand how the blocking was generated by anything I do on Facebook, on your page or mine. On yours, I only ever press "like" and on mine, I only ever post photos, music and the occasional goofy item, like a David Lynch video. I never post politics or the kind of stuff that usually causes someone to unfriend another person. But again, this appears to be a block rather than an unfriend.
So if it's not any action on Facebook (or if it is please tell me), then the only other place of origin must be here at the blog. And again, I just don't understand what it could be. I only ever write movie reviews, with the occasional comment about a book or a brief sentence about Trump, which I know wouldn't offend you. It's true that when you post, I comment about it here rather than on FB, but I've been doing that for years. When I do it, I put your name in the blog title so you'll know it's for you. To be honest, for a long time now I've never been sure if you do read this blog anymore. Back in 2013-15, it was easier to tell, because you'd respond on FB in a certain way, by posting something that would correlate. For instance, one time I wrote "life is magic" and an hour later I saw a "like" by you of a Calvin & Hobbes cartoon that said the same thing. That type of "back and forth" evolved into what I assumed was a new form of communication, and it worked like a charm (or seemed to) for several years, until Facebook did away with their news ticker. But I kept using the blog to communicate because, back in those days, I was pretty certain you were reading it. And, I've been using it ever since, to write back to you whenever you post.
I know that from 2013 to about 2015, my blogs to you were very personal, but again, from our "back and forth" communication on Facebook, I thought there was at least something mutual, and I always tried to write as a gentleman. My goodness, if you were gonna block me for coming on too strong, I would think you'd have done it back then. But the thing is, I didn't come on too strong, because anything I wrote was right here on my own page. The only way you could've read it would be if you had wanted to. I just wanted you to know my feelings, and I think if you'd read those blogs and been repulsed, you'd have blocked or unfriended me years ago. But the bottom line is that I wrote them here, where the only way you would see them was if you chose to. Also, everything I wrote I tried to express from the highest point of honor. I never, ever, wrote anything cheap or trashy concerning you and me, not only because I am not a trashy person and didn't feel those things, but because of the exact opposite, because meeting you was one in a million for me. There is no one like you, Elizabeth. Moreover I kept things utterly respectful; respecting our age difference and the physical distance between us. Though my feelings were true, I tried to keep it discreet because it was written online. That's why I kept it on my own page, my own blog, where you could read it or ignore it at your discretion. This blog was started for you.
Then, around 2015 or maybe 2016, I gave up altogether, the reason being that I thought you were in a relationship with John. I thought, "well, I guess I'd better step out of the way", and if you go back and look at those blogs you'll see I did so. At that point, the blog began to turn into movie reviews and general commentary. Ever since then, I only wrote to you when you posted something on FB, or when I had something to relate that I thought you might like. I used to sometimes start the blog "Hey Elizabeth"! That was after I toned things down. Before that, I always called you "my darling" or "sweet baby", but I kept my feelings restricted to the blog, so the only way you'd ever see them was if you wanted to. In short, you'd have to come here to read them, otherwise you'd never see them. And I think you must have seen those blogs.
Had John not been in the picture, I'd have kept writing that way, because a) I assumed you were reading, and b) they were my true feelings, and c) I thought you didn't mind. Once you and he were apparently involved, I stopped using those endearments. But they, too, were from the heart and I meant them in the best way. For the record, my feelings have never changed. I've just kept them to myself out of respect and to be unobtrusive, but I think you know that already.
All of this is meant to say that I can't imagine my personal feelings have caused you to block me after all this time, out of the blue. Just the other day, you seemed really happy. You posted the clip from your new song, then you posted the pic of the prairie. All I did was press "like" on both, and the next thing I know, I'm blocked (though it took me a couple days to figure out that was the case).
So all I can gather is that, whatever the cause, it must have come from the blog. I know I wrote a bunch of "weird stuff" recently, like my Darwin jokes and my story about "Matthew", but that's just my stupid sense of humor and my weird imagination. I've gone over every recent blog and I can't for the life of me figure out what I wrote that would cause you to block me. Yet blocking someone indicates anger, it's an impulsive action. "You jerk! That's it, I'm blocking you". So it's gotta be something I wrote.
Elizabeth, I wouldn't have taken the time to say all of this if it were anyone but you. You mean the world to me, and again I have to stress that anything I express is meant in the best way. You know me well enough to know 100% that I am not some weirdo sitting at the other end of an internet connection. I'm just me, and you wouldn't be here reading this if you didn't know that for certain. But even more than that - and this has got to be stressed most importantly - you have meant so much to me, just as Elizabeth the person, just doing what you do - making music, taking photos, loving nature, painting, etc. Just being who you are, you have brought so much joy to my life I can't begin to tell you. It's not superficial, it's for real. I'm an Alzheimer's caregiver as you know, and in my workaday life I don't always have a lot of joy. That's why when I see one of your posts, of a beautiful new song or photograph, and the words you write to accompany it, I light up. Because it makes my day.
You make my day.
I've felt a kinship with you ever since we met, because we like the same things. But the thing is, Elizabeth, that if it were any other person posting the same things, it wouldn't be the same.
It's because it's You. It's because you're the Artist with a Capital A, as I've always said. I've been with you since Autre Temps, and I've been on your side all the time, every single day. But even more than that, you're a very special person, a special lady and a beautiful spirit. You're also extremely intelligent, and I think you know all the things I am saying in this blog are true. Knowing you has been a wonderful thing for me, such a blessing and more than I can express in words.
I just want to ask if you'd consider unblocking me, or at least let me know why you blocked me? If you unblocked me, I could send you another friend request. I see I am not blocked on your Instagram. Would it be okay to message you there? I only ask because it hurts not to know why this has happened. The truth is that it makes me feel like crying. It has meant so much to me to be your friend for the past eight years, and to just have it taken away with no reason..........it hurts a lot.
All of this is what I'm feeling, but what about you? You must be feeling something also. Whatever it is, won't you tell me? Communication is the great problem solver in life. We're living in stressful enough times as it is. Your lyrics in "The Ocean" show an incredible depth of feeling on your part, whatever they may pertain to specifically. If I did something to hurt you, wrote something, whatever the case, it would kill me not to know what it was. If I know, I can at least understand it and fix the problem. I am hurting tonight, because I don't know what happened, and it would also kill me to think you don't consider me your friend because of something I have done.
Anyway, I've probably written a lot in this blog. I did so because of you, Elizabeth. You must've known that blocking me would come as a huge shock to me, and you must have done it for a specific reason. If you'll consider unblocking me, I'd like another chance to be your friend. You matter to me and your feelings matter to me. I want to know what you are thinking and feeling also, so I can understand why this happened.
I hope you read this, and thanks for reading if you do. If you came here to read it, it shows you care, and I care about you too. You are the absolute best, Elizabeth.
Love, Adam.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Sunday, July 19, 2020
Recorder
No movie again tonight. I'm distracted because I'm wondering what happened to Elizabeth. Elizabeth, if you are reading this I hope everything's okay. Maybe the FB thing is a technical problem of some kind. I sure hope you didn't get hacked. Mainly I just hope you are okay and that nothing terrible has happened. You only just posted the clip from your new song, and the photo of the prairie, just a couple of days ago, so this came out of the blue. 2020 is already a bad year, please Lord don't make it worse.
All I can do for now is trust that all is well. But blogging and watching movies will have to wait.
On a lighter note, my recorder came in the mail. No, not a tape recorder but a recorder, you know - a woodwind - except mine is made of plastic, a beginner's model from Yamaha. I ordered my recorder (order and rec-order) after rediscovering the music of Gentle Giant. In their videos, you can sometimes see two or three of them all playing recorders at once, and they looked like fairly simple instruments to learn. So, I went online at Amazon just to check prices, and I found the Yamaha Soprano model for just 8 bucks! It was listed as "the #1 seller" among recorders. I bought it so I could (attempt to) play along with Gentle Giant. If it turns out I can't, I'll settle for snake charming. Third choice would be payback for the 3am parties of my Noisy Neighbors. I was surprised at how loud the thing is. In truth, I won't be able to practice it in my apartment. I'll have to take it up to Aliso or Santa Su and play it in the middle of nowhere, until I get good. Then everyone will line up for miles around.
Right?
All I can do for now is trust that all is well. But blogging and watching movies will have to wait.
On a lighter note, my recorder came in the mail. No, not a tape recorder but a recorder, you know - a woodwind - except mine is made of plastic, a beginner's model from Yamaha. I ordered my recorder (order and rec-order) after rediscovering the music of Gentle Giant. In their videos, you can sometimes see two or three of them all playing recorders at once, and they looked like fairly simple instruments to learn. So, I went online at Amazon just to check prices, and I found the Yamaha Soprano model for just 8 bucks! It was listed as "the #1 seller" among recorders. I bought it so I could (attempt to) play along with Gentle Giant. If it turns out I can't, I'll settle for snake charming. Third choice would be payback for the 3am parties of my Noisy Neighbors. I was surprised at how loud the thing is. In truth, I won't be able to practice it in my apartment. I'll have to take it up to Aliso or Santa Su and play it in the middle of nowhere, until I get good. Then everyone will line up for miles around.
Right?
Friday, July 17, 2020
Elizabeth
Elizabeth? Is everything okay? I saw tonight that your Facebook page is gone. Either that or I am blocked, and I can't imagine why that would be the case. Wow, it was a real shock because you only just posted that clip from your new song a couple of days ago. I sure hope it's only a technical glitch of some kind, and that you didn't get hacked - or worse, I hope you aren't quitting FB.
Well, no movie review tonight. I'm worried. I truly hope you are okay. Post if you can, on Instagram maybe.
Well, no movie review tonight. I'm worried. I truly hope you are okay. Post if you can, on Instagram maybe.
Thursday, July 16, 2020
Elizabeth + "Bride of the Monster", "The Black Raven" and "Zombies of Mora Tau"
Elizabeth, that's a lovely vocal for your new song. Your voice sounds great! Since it isn't about a human, my best guess is a tree, because of the word "canopy". Or, it could mean nature itself. But I'm sticking with tree for now, until I hear more. :) Glad to know you are writing music. I figured you must be creating something since you hadn't posted in a while. As always, I'm looking forward to hearing the full song. I hope everything else is going well, and that you are enjoying the Summer. :)
The rest of this blog was written over the last couple of nights, in snippets, because I was switching back into work mode. So, rather than one long movie review, it will consist of synopses of several films.
Tonight I was in a pinch. It happens sometimes when I'm shifting back into work mode after a couple weeks off. I needed something to watch right away, without spending a lot of time searching, so I chose "Bride of the Monster"(1955) by Ed Wood. Boy was that a mistake! I mean, you expect crumminess from Wood - truly shocking would be if he made a good movie. But what you don't expect is to be bored. That's what happened here, to the Nth degree, despite the best efforts of Bela Lugosi, who - in his final speaking role - gives the meager script everything he's got.
The thing is, I've seen this flick before, about ten years ago. I must've forgotten how bad it was, but tonight I barely made it through. It turns out that "Plan 9" is not Wood's worst film (nor the worst film of all time). "Bride" is much worse, because it's dull. No one cared when they were making it, except Bela (who always cared), but even he can't salvage this disaster. Maybe they gave Wood too much money. Wiki says he had a budget of 70 thousand bucks, his biggest ever, and from the looks of things he was trying to make a "serious" sci-fi film, without the "camp" element that made "Plan 9" so enjoyable. He does have a great looking Mad Scientist lab, but he must've spent most of his dough on that, because his rubber octopus is awful. It just sits there immobile in a puddle of water. When it "attacks", the victim has to flail it's tentacles around him or herself, to make it look like the creature is moving. And how many times can you watch Tor Johnson doing his zombified, black-eyed, monster walk? He was way better in "Beast of Yucca Flats", where at least he had some direction.
Well, you can skip "Bride of the Monster", with Two Thumbs Way Down. If it weren't for Lugosi's crazed speeches, I'd put it below "Mesa of Lost Women". Instead, it's just plain terrible, "plain" being the key word. ////
Let's see, now.......what do we have next? Ahh yes, a reunion with our old friend George Zucco. Like Bela Lugosi, he's always reliable, and in this case his movie was a lot better than Bela's :
We went over to Poverty Row for a cheap quickie from Producers Releasing Corporation called "The Black Raven"(1943). The great George Zucco stars as the owner of a motel by that name, and from the looks of things, he's doing a land office business. Snoopy appears to have written the script, or at least the opening scene : "It was a dark and stormy night".
It's pouring outside. "Mr. Bradford" (Zucco) tells his custodian "Andy" (Glenn Strange) to go out and make sure everything is locked up. While he's doing so, an intruder climbs in through a back window. He enters Bradford's office and confronts him with a gun. It turns out he's a former business partner who just escaped from prison; Bradford's testimony put him there, now he wants revenge. Andy returns just in time to surprise the guy before he can shoot Bradford. He gets him in a headlock, then he and Bradford tie the guy up and lock him in an empty room. After that, several guests check in, seeking shelter from the storm.
The first to arrive is a bank clerk, "Horace Weatherby" (Byron Foulger), a bespectacled, nervous man who clutches a leather satchel. When he signs in as "Mr. Smith", Bradford knows there's something up with him. Also taking notice is "Mike Bardoni" (Noel Madison), a low level gangster who checks in next. He spies on Weatherby, sees he's got money in the satchel - lots of it - and steals it from him. The next guests to arrive are a young couple, headed for Canada where they plan to get married. They're on the run from the girl's father, a high powered judge, who's blocked their marriage in the States on account of she's only 20 (which was underage in 1943). Finally, the judge himself checks in, hot on his daughter's heels.
We're all set up for a heckuva whodunit.
While the young couple hide out in their room, the judge finds out the gangster is staying there. "Say, I remember you! Didn't I put you away a few years back"?
"Yeah, you did. But I'm out now, and you've got nuthin' on me, so buzz off, Judge"! He says this with a Brooklyn accent, following one of the Cinematic Laws of Motion Picture Hoodlums. The Judge doesn't like his attitude, and follows the gangster to his room. There he sees the satchel full of money and confronts him.
"Got nothing on you, eh? Well where'd you get all that money? The last I heard, prison payout is just a hundred bucks". The gangster cops to the theft, then tries to worm out of it. "Yeah, Judge....I stole it, but the guy I stole it from stole it first"! He means the bank clerk, who indeed embezzled the dough from his employer, the First National Savings and Loan. He now admits the theft. The judge, sensing an opportunity, seizes the loot for himself! The gangster is outraged. "Hey, Judge! You can't do that! That money belongs to the bank"!
"Oh yeah? Who's gonna stop me? You? (indicating the gangster), Or you? (indicating the bank clerk). "You two are confessed bank robbers. Who're the cops gonna believe, you or me"?
As it turns out, the cops are gonna be asking questions about a whole 'nuther kettle of fish, because the judge winds up dead! Holy smokes, he shouldn't have stolen the money from the gangster whole stole the money from the clerk who embezzled it from the bank.
If your budget is pocket change and you're making a "stick everyone in a room" movie, this is the way to do it, with tight editing, fast pacing, a good script, and actors who give a darn. Poverty Row films often suffer from wooden line readings, but in this case, the energetic performances - combined with clever banter - make for a very entertaining film. And, for a plot of this type (i.e. Ten Little Indians), it's very well written. "The Black Raven" gets Two Solid Thumbs Up with a definite recommendation. //////
Finally we have "Zombies of Mora Tau"(1957), directed by Edward L. Cahn, who has three sci-fi classics to his name : "Invisible Invaders", "IT! The Terror From Beyond Space" and "Invasion of the Saucer Men". We've watched all of those during the quarantine and loved all three. So how does "Mora Tau" measure up? Well, let's see.
It's got Zombies, a fun bunch at any gathering. It's got Allison Hayes, aka "The Fifty Foot Woman". Hard not to enjoy her company. And it's got a character named "George Harrison". Yep, except he can get away with it because there were no Beatles in 1957. The movie was released in March of that year. John hadn't even met Paul!
A boatload of treasure hunters lands on the island of Mora Tau, off the coast of Africa. They're staying at the home of a Wise Old Lady (Marjorie Eaton from "Monstrosity"), who knows all about the Sunken Treasure the group is after. She tries to warn them about the Zombies who guard the shipwreck, but do they listen? Hell no. Even when they see the Zombies are real, they don't back off. What they do is try to take the Zombies out, by surrounding them at their crash pad - a mausoleum hidden deep in the jungle. That's where they sleep, each in their own coffin. The attack by the treasure hunters backfires, as you probably expected, and the hunters find themselves running for their lives, because - as everyone knows - even though Zombies are slow, they're relentless. You can't just walk away from a Zombie, you've gotta run. One other thing about this particular group - they can walk underwater. Yeah. See, they can't swim, so they just walk around on the ocean floor. The Wise Old Lady tells the treasure hunters there's nowhere for them to hide : "They'll follow you all the way back to America". On foot, apparently!
"Zombies of Mora Tau" doesn't approach the classic status of Cahn's above mentioned masterpieces, but for a run-of-the-mill Zombie flick it has some nice touches that make it very watchable. There's also a romantic triangle happening between "George Harrison", Allison Hayes ("Mrs. George Harrison"), and the captain of the boat. Two Solid Thumbs Up is the verdict on this one. Like "The Black Raven", it's also recommended. ////
That's all for this evening. I'll try to get back on shedge-yoole now that I'm all caught up. See you in a while at the Usual Time.
Tons of love! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
The rest of this blog was written over the last couple of nights, in snippets, because I was switching back into work mode. So, rather than one long movie review, it will consist of synopses of several films.
Tonight I was in a pinch. It happens sometimes when I'm shifting back into work mode after a couple weeks off. I needed something to watch right away, without spending a lot of time searching, so I chose "Bride of the Monster"(1955) by Ed Wood. Boy was that a mistake! I mean, you expect crumminess from Wood - truly shocking would be if he made a good movie. But what you don't expect is to be bored. That's what happened here, to the Nth degree, despite the best efforts of Bela Lugosi, who - in his final speaking role - gives the meager script everything he's got.
The thing is, I've seen this flick before, about ten years ago. I must've forgotten how bad it was, but tonight I barely made it through. It turns out that "Plan 9" is not Wood's worst film (nor the worst film of all time). "Bride" is much worse, because it's dull. No one cared when they were making it, except Bela (who always cared), but even he can't salvage this disaster. Maybe they gave Wood too much money. Wiki says he had a budget of 70 thousand bucks, his biggest ever, and from the looks of things he was trying to make a "serious" sci-fi film, without the "camp" element that made "Plan 9" so enjoyable. He does have a great looking Mad Scientist lab, but he must've spent most of his dough on that, because his rubber octopus is awful. It just sits there immobile in a puddle of water. When it "attacks", the victim has to flail it's tentacles around him or herself, to make it look like the creature is moving. And how many times can you watch Tor Johnson doing his zombified, black-eyed, monster walk? He was way better in "Beast of Yucca Flats", where at least he had some direction.
Well, you can skip "Bride of the Monster", with Two Thumbs Way Down. If it weren't for Lugosi's crazed speeches, I'd put it below "Mesa of Lost Women". Instead, it's just plain terrible, "plain" being the key word. ////
Let's see, now.......what do we have next? Ahh yes, a reunion with our old friend George Zucco. Like Bela Lugosi, he's always reliable, and in this case his movie was a lot better than Bela's :
We went over to Poverty Row for a cheap quickie from Producers Releasing Corporation called "The Black Raven"(1943). The great George Zucco stars as the owner of a motel by that name, and from the looks of things, he's doing a land office business. Snoopy appears to have written the script, or at least the opening scene : "It was a dark and stormy night".
It's pouring outside. "Mr. Bradford" (Zucco) tells his custodian "Andy" (Glenn Strange) to go out and make sure everything is locked up. While he's doing so, an intruder climbs in through a back window. He enters Bradford's office and confronts him with a gun. It turns out he's a former business partner who just escaped from prison; Bradford's testimony put him there, now he wants revenge. Andy returns just in time to surprise the guy before he can shoot Bradford. He gets him in a headlock, then he and Bradford tie the guy up and lock him in an empty room. After that, several guests check in, seeking shelter from the storm.
The first to arrive is a bank clerk, "Horace Weatherby" (Byron Foulger), a bespectacled, nervous man who clutches a leather satchel. When he signs in as "Mr. Smith", Bradford knows there's something up with him. Also taking notice is "Mike Bardoni" (Noel Madison), a low level gangster who checks in next. He spies on Weatherby, sees he's got money in the satchel - lots of it - and steals it from him. The next guests to arrive are a young couple, headed for Canada where they plan to get married. They're on the run from the girl's father, a high powered judge, who's blocked their marriage in the States on account of she's only 20 (which was underage in 1943). Finally, the judge himself checks in, hot on his daughter's heels.
We're all set up for a heckuva whodunit.
While the young couple hide out in their room, the judge finds out the gangster is staying there. "Say, I remember you! Didn't I put you away a few years back"?
"Yeah, you did. But I'm out now, and you've got nuthin' on me, so buzz off, Judge"! He says this with a Brooklyn accent, following one of the Cinematic Laws of Motion Picture Hoodlums. The Judge doesn't like his attitude, and follows the gangster to his room. There he sees the satchel full of money and confronts him.
"Got nothing on you, eh? Well where'd you get all that money? The last I heard, prison payout is just a hundred bucks". The gangster cops to the theft, then tries to worm out of it. "Yeah, Judge....I stole it, but the guy I stole it from stole it first"! He means the bank clerk, who indeed embezzled the dough from his employer, the First National Savings and Loan. He now admits the theft. The judge, sensing an opportunity, seizes the loot for himself! The gangster is outraged. "Hey, Judge! You can't do that! That money belongs to the bank"!
"Oh yeah? Who's gonna stop me? You? (indicating the gangster), Or you? (indicating the bank clerk). "You two are confessed bank robbers. Who're the cops gonna believe, you or me"?
As it turns out, the cops are gonna be asking questions about a whole 'nuther kettle of fish, because the judge winds up dead! Holy smokes, he shouldn't have stolen the money from the gangster whole stole the money from the clerk who embezzled it from the bank.
If your budget is pocket change and you're making a "stick everyone in a room" movie, this is the way to do it, with tight editing, fast pacing, a good script, and actors who give a darn. Poverty Row films often suffer from wooden line readings, but in this case, the energetic performances - combined with clever banter - make for a very entertaining film. And, for a plot of this type (i.e. Ten Little Indians), it's very well written. "The Black Raven" gets Two Solid Thumbs Up with a definite recommendation. //////
Finally we have "Zombies of Mora Tau"(1957), directed by Edward L. Cahn, who has three sci-fi classics to his name : "Invisible Invaders", "IT! The Terror From Beyond Space" and "Invasion of the Saucer Men". We've watched all of those during the quarantine and loved all three. So how does "Mora Tau" measure up? Well, let's see.
It's got Zombies, a fun bunch at any gathering. It's got Allison Hayes, aka "The Fifty Foot Woman". Hard not to enjoy her company. And it's got a character named "George Harrison". Yep, except he can get away with it because there were no Beatles in 1957. The movie was released in March of that year. John hadn't even met Paul!
A boatload of treasure hunters lands on the island of Mora Tau, off the coast of Africa. They're staying at the home of a Wise Old Lady (Marjorie Eaton from "Monstrosity"), who knows all about the Sunken Treasure the group is after. She tries to warn them about the Zombies who guard the shipwreck, but do they listen? Hell no. Even when they see the Zombies are real, they don't back off. What they do is try to take the Zombies out, by surrounding them at their crash pad - a mausoleum hidden deep in the jungle. That's where they sleep, each in their own coffin. The attack by the treasure hunters backfires, as you probably expected, and the hunters find themselves running for their lives, because - as everyone knows - even though Zombies are slow, they're relentless. You can't just walk away from a Zombie, you've gotta run. One other thing about this particular group - they can walk underwater. Yeah. See, they can't swim, so they just walk around on the ocean floor. The Wise Old Lady tells the treasure hunters there's nowhere for them to hide : "They'll follow you all the way back to America". On foot, apparently!
"Zombies of Mora Tau" doesn't approach the classic status of Cahn's above mentioned masterpieces, but for a run-of-the-mill Zombie flick it has some nice touches that make it very watchable. There's also a romantic triangle happening between "George Harrison", Allison Hayes ("Mrs. George Harrison"), and the captain of the boat. Two Solid Thumbs Up is the verdict on this one. Like "The Black Raven", it's also recommended. ////
That's all for this evening. I'll try to get back on shedge-yoole now that I'm all caught up. See you in a while at the Usual Time.
Tons of love! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Tuesday, July 14, 2020
"Grandpa Amoeba" + "She Devil" starring Mari Blanchard, Albert Dekker and Jack Kelly
Me : "Grandpa Amoeba! You old so-and-so, how the heck are ya? Still dividing after all these years? Man, I'm impressed! Seriously, though, it's an honor to finally meet you, sir. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here".
Grandpa Amoeba : "Glub".
Man, I'm having fun with this! It began as a joke, something I thought up the other night. I think it would be great to have a comic strip with three main characters : myself, Charles Darwin, and "Grandpa Amoeba", whom the strip would be named after. We could have the trio pal around, discuss things and do all kinds of fun stuff. It'll be great! All I need is a graphic artist. I'll do all the quips.
Tonight's movie was "She Devil"(1957), another tale of Medicine Gone Wrong, in which two Well Meaning Doctors try out an experimental serum on a tuberculosis patient, with predictable science fiction results, meaning all hell breaks loose. "Dr. Dan Scott" (Jack Kelly) is a brilliant biologist. He's developed a serum, made from the glands of Fruit Flies, that promotes rapid healing. He's tested it on a variety of animals, the results are stunning and now he's ready for a human subject. His benefactor, "Dr. Richard Bach" (Albert Dekker), suggests caution. "You may want to conduct further trials", but Scott is confident. "No, Richard. I'm certain it is ready for human application".
They come to an agreement. If during his rounds, Dr. Bach comes across a "hopeless case", where no other treatment will work, and if the patient is conscious enough to sign a waiver, then he will refer the person to Dr. Scott and the serum will be tested.
Bach finds such a patient in Kyra Zelas (Mari Blanchard), who's dying of tuberculosis. Using the last of her strength, she signs the waiver and is referred to Dr. Scott. He administers the serum that very day. "How long til it starts working"?, asks Dr. Bach. "Come back in six hours", says Scott. The two men meet back in Kyra's room at the appointed hour and are astonished by what they see. Her temperature has dropped, from 105 to 99 degrees, but more importantly, the x-rays show her lungs to be clear. There is no trace of the disease that had her at death's door. "It's like a miracle", observes Dr. Bach.
"It's my serum", says Scott.
Kyra, a mild mannered, pleasant lady is grateful beyond words for the doctors' help. "You saved my life", she tells them. They ask if she'll volunteer for further study. "We've never had a case like yours. You could help us to learn more about how the serum works". Suddenly Kyra's demeanor changes, like the flip of a switch. "You want me to stay at your clinic, as your guinea pig"? The doctors are taken aback. Kyra ends up agreeing to work with them, but when they are alone, Drs. Scott and Bach discuss her abrupt change in personality. "Do you think it could be a side effect"? asks Dr. Bach.
"It's possible", says Dr. Scott. "She's been through an emotionally charged experience. The serum has flooded her system with hormones. It may have provoked her reaction. After all, consider that she doesn't really know us. She almost died, now we're asking her to stay when all she probably wants is to go home".
"Good point", says Dr. Bach.
But that's not all Kyra wants. Her personality does appear to have changed. On her first day at Bach's clinic, located at his house, she goes out shopping. "I really need new clothes", she says. At a boutique, she sees a number of beautiful dresses she'd love to have, if only she had the money. She hides in a dressing room, and when another lady comes in, Kyra bops her over the head with an ashtray. She opens the woman's purse, steals her money, then heads back into the shop to buy the clothes she wants. By now, the woman has recovered and is asking a salesgirl to call the police. She describes her assailant as a "dark haired young woman". Kyra returns to the dressing room to hide, and when the cops arrive, she changes her hair color - boom, just like that! Now she's a platinum blonde! Putting on one of her new dresses, Kyra is unrecognizable. She exits the boutique triumphant.
Back at Bach's house, the doctors are horrified to see what she's done, but they can't really blame Kyra. After all, she's their subject. They can't turn her over to the police, either. It wouldn't be fair to her, and it would mean the end of their research. So, they reach an agreement. Kyra is not to leave the house again unless one of the doctors is with her.
All of this is troublesome, but what shocks the docs is her hair. How did she change it? Bach puts a strand under the microscope. "It's not dyed or bleached", he concludes. They ask Kyra herself : "I guess I just willed it to happen. I was scared; I didn't want to go to jail".
Dr. Scott thinks about this and then a lightbulb goes off in his head. "Of course! It's the fruit flies! Their glands produce a secretion similar to that of reptiles. Think about it, when a chameleon feels threatened, it changes it's colors to camouflage itself. This is what Kyra did when the police arrived"!
Dr. Bach agrees. "Yes...yes.....we saw this with our leopard, remember? One day it's coat turned black. We thought it was age, or some genetic trait, but it was the serum all along"!
Of course it was the serum. This is a Mad Scientist movie.
The doctors are unnerved by this development but vow to press on. "I'll find a way to minimize the side effects", says Scott, "but the healing property is a miracle. Think of the benefits worldwide"! Ah yes, "think of the benefits". That's Mad Scientist 101.
Dr. Bach throws a party for his wealthy friends, where he means to show off Kyra to solicit funds. However, her aggressive traits return. While the doctors are busy, she strikes up a conversation with a tycoon, then comes on to him. When his wife objects, Kyra clocks her with a hard right. The party is instantly over. This time the doctors are furious. "My God, Kyra"!, fumes Bach. "That man is one of my biggest donors! What on Earth were you thinking"?
This time Kyra is not ashamed of her actions. She's proud of herself, downright snotty in fact. "I was thinking I wanted to marry him. I was thinking I'd like to be rich. I'm sorry if you don't like it, but there's nothing you can do to stop me. From now on, I'm doing what I want"!
Keep in mind that the movie is called "She Devil". Kyra is indeed gonna do what she wants. The doctors are just gonna have to lump it. There will be mayhem along the way and even murder as she climbs her way to the top of the social ladder. Drs. Scott and Bach have to find a way to revert Kyra, to turn her back into her old self. What they need is an antidote. But can they formulate one before the police close in?
Isn't that always the question, in the final analysis? Most Mad Scientists start out with good intentions (Whit Bissell excepted), then end up having to Fix Things before the cops arrive, because the cops are always Rational Minded (according to Cinematic Law), and are never gonna believe their explanations. I'm not gonna tell you what happens here, but it's in Kyra's favor that she was a sweet, tragic tuberculosis victim before she turned "She Devil".
The movie ran a tad too long (maybe 5-7 minutes), but I liked it. Mari Blanchard is great as Kyra, who ranges from sweet to sassy to savage in her various mood swings. Like her character, Blanchard went through her own medical woes, surviving polio as a child. Albert Dekker and Jack Kelly are also good as the two doctors. I give it Two Solid Thumbs Up. Add it to your Mad Science collection. ////
That's all for the moment. See you later tonight at the Usual Time.
Tons of love! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Grandpa Amoeba : "Glub".
Man, I'm having fun with this! It began as a joke, something I thought up the other night. I think it would be great to have a comic strip with three main characters : myself, Charles Darwin, and "Grandpa Amoeba", whom the strip would be named after. We could have the trio pal around, discuss things and do all kinds of fun stuff. It'll be great! All I need is a graphic artist. I'll do all the quips.
Tonight's movie was "She Devil"(1957), another tale of Medicine Gone Wrong, in which two Well Meaning Doctors try out an experimental serum on a tuberculosis patient, with predictable science fiction results, meaning all hell breaks loose. "Dr. Dan Scott" (Jack Kelly) is a brilliant biologist. He's developed a serum, made from the glands of Fruit Flies, that promotes rapid healing. He's tested it on a variety of animals, the results are stunning and now he's ready for a human subject. His benefactor, "Dr. Richard Bach" (Albert Dekker), suggests caution. "You may want to conduct further trials", but Scott is confident. "No, Richard. I'm certain it is ready for human application".
They come to an agreement. If during his rounds, Dr. Bach comes across a "hopeless case", where no other treatment will work, and if the patient is conscious enough to sign a waiver, then he will refer the person to Dr. Scott and the serum will be tested.
Bach finds such a patient in Kyra Zelas (Mari Blanchard), who's dying of tuberculosis. Using the last of her strength, she signs the waiver and is referred to Dr. Scott. He administers the serum that very day. "How long til it starts working"?, asks Dr. Bach. "Come back in six hours", says Scott. The two men meet back in Kyra's room at the appointed hour and are astonished by what they see. Her temperature has dropped, from 105 to 99 degrees, but more importantly, the x-rays show her lungs to be clear. There is no trace of the disease that had her at death's door. "It's like a miracle", observes Dr. Bach.
"It's my serum", says Scott.
Kyra, a mild mannered, pleasant lady is grateful beyond words for the doctors' help. "You saved my life", she tells them. They ask if she'll volunteer for further study. "We've never had a case like yours. You could help us to learn more about how the serum works". Suddenly Kyra's demeanor changes, like the flip of a switch. "You want me to stay at your clinic, as your guinea pig"? The doctors are taken aback. Kyra ends up agreeing to work with them, but when they are alone, Drs. Scott and Bach discuss her abrupt change in personality. "Do you think it could be a side effect"? asks Dr. Bach.
"It's possible", says Dr. Scott. "She's been through an emotionally charged experience. The serum has flooded her system with hormones. It may have provoked her reaction. After all, consider that she doesn't really know us. She almost died, now we're asking her to stay when all she probably wants is to go home".
"Good point", says Dr. Bach.
But that's not all Kyra wants. Her personality does appear to have changed. On her first day at Bach's clinic, located at his house, she goes out shopping. "I really need new clothes", she says. At a boutique, she sees a number of beautiful dresses she'd love to have, if only she had the money. She hides in a dressing room, and when another lady comes in, Kyra bops her over the head with an ashtray. She opens the woman's purse, steals her money, then heads back into the shop to buy the clothes she wants. By now, the woman has recovered and is asking a salesgirl to call the police. She describes her assailant as a "dark haired young woman". Kyra returns to the dressing room to hide, and when the cops arrive, she changes her hair color - boom, just like that! Now she's a platinum blonde! Putting on one of her new dresses, Kyra is unrecognizable. She exits the boutique triumphant.
Back at Bach's house, the doctors are horrified to see what she's done, but they can't really blame Kyra. After all, she's their subject. They can't turn her over to the police, either. It wouldn't be fair to her, and it would mean the end of their research. So, they reach an agreement. Kyra is not to leave the house again unless one of the doctors is with her.
All of this is troublesome, but what shocks the docs is her hair. How did she change it? Bach puts a strand under the microscope. "It's not dyed or bleached", he concludes. They ask Kyra herself : "I guess I just willed it to happen. I was scared; I didn't want to go to jail".
Dr. Scott thinks about this and then a lightbulb goes off in his head. "Of course! It's the fruit flies! Their glands produce a secretion similar to that of reptiles. Think about it, when a chameleon feels threatened, it changes it's colors to camouflage itself. This is what Kyra did when the police arrived"!
Dr. Bach agrees. "Yes...yes.....we saw this with our leopard, remember? One day it's coat turned black. We thought it was age, or some genetic trait, but it was the serum all along"!
Of course it was the serum. This is a Mad Scientist movie.
The doctors are unnerved by this development but vow to press on. "I'll find a way to minimize the side effects", says Scott, "but the healing property is a miracle. Think of the benefits worldwide"! Ah yes, "think of the benefits". That's Mad Scientist 101.
Dr. Bach throws a party for his wealthy friends, where he means to show off Kyra to solicit funds. However, her aggressive traits return. While the doctors are busy, she strikes up a conversation with a tycoon, then comes on to him. When his wife objects, Kyra clocks her with a hard right. The party is instantly over. This time the doctors are furious. "My God, Kyra"!, fumes Bach. "That man is one of my biggest donors! What on Earth were you thinking"?
This time Kyra is not ashamed of her actions. She's proud of herself, downright snotty in fact. "I was thinking I wanted to marry him. I was thinking I'd like to be rich. I'm sorry if you don't like it, but there's nothing you can do to stop me. From now on, I'm doing what I want"!
Keep in mind that the movie is called "She Devil". Kyra is indeed gonna do what she wants. The doctors are just gonna have to lump it. There will be mayhem along the way and even murder as she climbs her way to the top of the social ladder. Drs. Scott and Bach have to find a way to revert Kyra, to turn her back into her old self. What they need is an antidote. But can they formulate one before the police close in?
Isn't that always the question, in the final analysis? Most Mad Scientists start out with good intentions (Whit Bissell excepted), then end up having to Fix Things before the cops arrive, because the cops are always Rational Minded (according to Cinematic Law), and are never gonna believe their explanations. I'm not gonna tell you what happens here, but it's in Kyra's favor that she was a sweet, tragic tuberculosis victim before she turned "She Devil".
The movie ran a tad too long (maybe 5-7 minutes), but I liked it. Mari Blanchard is great as Kyra, who ranges from sweet to sassy to savage in her various mood swings. Like her character, Blanchard went through her own medical woes, surviving polio as a child. Albert Dekker and Jack Kelly are also good as the two doctors. I give it Two Solid Thumbs Up. Add it to your Mad Science collection. ////
That's all for the moment. See you later tonight at the Usual Time.
Tons of love! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Monday, July 13, 2020
Me & Mr. Darwin + "Blood Bath", a Roger Corman production
Me: "Okay, so what you're saying, Mr. Darwin, is that if I had a Time Machine, and could go back and meet all my ancestors, that I'd eventually come to Grandpa Amoeba"?
Charles Darwin : "That's basically it, yes".
Me : "Okay, thanks, just makin' sure".
Tonight we had a ton of fun with the Roger Corman-produced "Blood Bath"(1966), an "artistic" take on the Vampire genre filmed in what was then called Yugoslavia. Now, Corman as you know is a notorious cheapskate. It wasn't he who splurged for the location. What he did was to purchase the rights to an American/Yugoslavian co-production entitled "Operation : Titian", and then gut it, film new scenes around the remainder, and make it into his own movie, directed by Jack Hill. If that sounds complicated, go to IMDB for the full story. I'm only here for the Corman version, and I had a blast.
Do you remember a film we watched early on in the Covid Era called "A Bucket of Blood"? That one was actually directed by Corman, it's one of his best known movies, and we loved it. It was right around that time we realised that Corman was not a hack, as we'd thought, but a very talented and original filmmaker. We discovered that he also had a great sense of humor, and in "Bucket" he created a context for murder that developed out of Bohemian Art Culture. The setting in that film was a cafe, in which artistes - all of them pompous - gathered to drink espresso and discuss their theories about "what is real" in the world of art. The way it was portrayed was a hoot, with dialogue worthy of Saturday Night Live, thirty years before the fact. We laughed - and were horrified - all the way through that flick, and it cemented Corman as one of our new favorite directors.
Well, Corman himself must've enjoyed the Bohemian Motif, because he used it again in "Blood Bath". He didn't have the great Charles B. Griffith this time, to write the script, but Hill and co-writer Stephanie Rothman do a great job of imbuing the dialogue with the same beatnik spirit, and the actors involved in that element of the story are hilarious, while playing it "Corman-style", meaning farcial yet sincere.
As the movie opens, three Beatniks are sitting in a club that doubles as an art gallery. One of them, "Max" (Karl Schanzer, an absolute riot), fancies himself an Abstract Expressionist of the highest order. He and his two sycophants (Corman regulars Jonathan Haze and Sid Haig) are discussing the finer points of technique. Max shows them his latest application device, "a Quantum Gun", then explains : "It delivers the paint as pure energy, adding an uncertainty to each work"! He goes on about his paint gun, and Haze and Haig add their observations which are most profound. Heisenberg would be proud.
The three are immersed in their discussion until another artist shows up, the hated "Antonio Sordi" (William Campbell). He is known for painting naked victims of violence, but that's not his worst transgression. Far worse, in the eyes of Max and his cohorts, is the fact that Sordi is a commercial success. Never mind that his paintings are depraved trash - they sell! That, to Max, is the Ultimate Offense. Sordi is therefore the lowest of the low, a bourgeois poseur who makes a living from his art. The horror!
Making matters worse is the fact that "Daisy" (Marissa Mathes), an art student and Max's sometime girlfriend, has taken a liking to Sordi and has agreed to pose for him. This infuriates Max to no end, but her infatuation with Sordi is about to cost him - and Daisy - much more than the loss of their relationship. You see, Sordi has a secret. He's the reincarnation of a 15th century ancestor named Erno Sordi, who was a vampire. Not good! Sordi tries to shake off these transformations whenever they occur, but it's no use. Erno overpowers his soul and takes over. Then another murder happens and Antonio paints the result. The critics have dubbed his paintings "Dead Red Nudes" and they sell like hotcakes.
When Daisy doesn't return from her modeling appointment, Max goes to see "Donna" (Sandra Knight), her sister, who says she hasn't heard from Daisy either. Like Max, Donna can't stand Sordi. She has a book on witchcraft and is the first to point out the connection between Antonio and his ancestor. Max is stunned but doesn't believe it. "What are you saying, that he's a bloodthirsty killer? It isn't possible; he's not that original". But then Donna goes to look for Daisy at Sordi's studio. She doesn't return, either.
As time passes, the "real" Sordi, Antonio, redoubles his effort to stop Erno's influence, because by now he has fallen in love. He meets "Dorian" (Lori Saunders), a ballerina who was Daisy's roommate. She's the first one who seems to really understand his work, not like the art collectors who champion him as their "flavor-of-the-week". "You honor the dead", she tells him. "It's beautiful".
Antonio has a portrait that he keeps behind a curtain and shows to no one. It's by the great Erno, and it's starting to freak him out because - now that he looks more closely - it resembles Dorian. She's also starting to appear in his dreams, coaxing him toward something.......but what? The spirit of Erno is trying harder than ever to gain control but Antonio fights him because he knows Dorian will end up dead. What is it about her that motivates Erno? He seems equally frightened and enraged.
Antonio Sordi does some research and uncovers startling details about the woman in the hidden painting. Her name was "Melliza". She was Erno's mistress, a witch who turned him over to the church courts to avoid prosecution herself. Erno was burned at the stake!
OMG! Dorian must be Melizza reincarnated! Sordi has been outfoxed! Now Erno struggles to take his soul, to obtain a rematch with Melliza, the Vampire against the Witch. There will be a showdown in his studio, but here come the Beatniks to the rescue! Max and his pals are still searching for Daisy and the other missing girls. They arrive at Sordi's pad just in the nick of time.........er......or maybe not. While there, they discover a number of Wax Figures, and.........
That's all I can tell you. But, if you enjoyed the pseudo-pretentiousness of the artists in "A Bucket of Blood", you'll love it again here. I repeat that Karl Schanzer is hilarious as "Max", and Sid Haig is a riot as well. The script and direction don't have quite the same "zing" as a Corman/Griffith work, but it's close - the Beatnik scenes are equally good - but Corman executive produced and the movie has his stamp all over it. It also works as a horror film. So, a lesson from Roger Corman to up-and-coming filmmakers : No budget? Can't shoot on location? No problem! Just buy someone else's forgotten movie, one with an exotic locale, shoot some extra scenes and call it your own! Hey, it works here.
I give "Blood Bath" Two Big Thumbs Up. It's highly recommended! /////
That's all for now. Today is my last day off until August, so I'm gonna get in one final hike. See you tonight at the Usual Time!
Tons and tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Charles Darwin : "That's basically it, yes".
Me : "Okay, thanks, just makin' sure".
Tonight we had a ton of fun with the Roger Corman-produced "Blood Bath"(1966), an "artistic" take on the Vampire genre filmed in what was then called Yugoslavia. Now, Corman as you know is a notorious cheapskate. It wasn't he who splurged for the location. What he did was to purchase the rights to an American/Yugoslavian co-production entitled "Operation : Titian", and then gut it, film new scenes around the remainder, and make it into his own movie, directed by Jack Hill. If that sounds complicated, go to IMDB for the full story. I'm only here for the Corman version, and I had a blast.
Do you remember a film we watched early on in the Covid Era called "A Bucket of Blood"? That one was actually directed by Corman, it's one of his best known movies, and we loved it. It was right around that time we realised that Corman was not a hack, as we'd thought, but a very talented and original filmmaker. We discovered that he also had a great sense of humor, and in "Bucket" he created a context for murder that developed out of Bohemian Art Culture. The setting in that film was a cafe, in which artistes - all of them pompous - gathered to drink espresso and discuss their theories about "what is real" in the world of art. The way it was portrayed was a hoot, with dialogue worthy of Saturday Night Live, thirty years before the fact. We laughed - and were horrified - all the way through that flick, and it cemented Corman as one of our new favorite directors.
Well, Corman himself must've enjoyed the Bohemian Motif, because he used it again in "Blood Bath". He didn't have the great Charles B. Griffith this time, to write the script, but Hill and co-writer Stephanie Rothman do a great job of imbuing the dialogue with the same beatnik spirit, and the actors involved in that element of the story are hilarious, while playing it "Corman-style", meaning farcial yet sincere.
As the movie opens, three Beatniks are sitting in a club that doubles as an art gallery. One of them, "Max" (Karl Schanzer, an absolute riot), fancies himself an Abstract Expressionist of the highest order. He and his two sycophants (Corman regulars Jonathan Haze and Sid Haig) are discussing the finer points of technique. Max shows them his latest application device, "a Quantum Gun", then explains : "It delivers the paint as pure energy, adding an uncertainty to each work"! He goes on about his paint gun, and Haze and Haig add their observations which are most profound. Heisenberg would be proud.
The three are immersed in their discussion until another artist shows up, the hated "Antonio Sordi" (William Campbell). He is known for painting naked victims of violence, but that's not his worst transgression. Far worse, in the eyes of Max and his cohorts, is the fact that Sordi is a commercial success. Never mind that his paintings are depraved trash - they sell! That, to Max, is the Ultimate Offense. Sordi is therefore the lowest of the low, a bourgeois poseur who makes a living from his art. The horror!
Making matters worse is the fact that "Daisy" (Marissa Mathes), an art student and Max's sometime girlfriend, has taken a liking to Sordi and has agreed to pose for him. This infuriates Max to no end, but her infatuation with Sordi is about to cost him - and Daisy - much more than the loss of their relationship. You see, Sordi has a secret. He's the reincarnation of a 15th century ancestor named Erno Sordi, who was a vampire. Not good! Sordi tries to shake off these transformations whenever they occur, but it's no use. Erno overpowers his soul and takes over. Then another murder happens and Antonio paints the result. The critics have dubbed his paintings "Dead Red Nudes" and they sell like hotcakes.
When Daisy doesn't return from her modeling appointment, Max goes to see "Donna" (Sandra Knight), her sister, who says she hasn't heard from Daisy either. Like Max, Donna can't stand Sordi. She has a book on witchcraft and is the first to point out the connection between Antonio and his ancestor. Max is stunned but doesn't believe it. "What are you saying, that he's a bloodthirsty killer? It isn't possible; he's not that original". But then Donna goes to look for Daisy at Sordi's studio. She doesn't return, either.
As time passes, the "real" Sordi, Antonio, redoubles his effort to stop Erno's influence, because by now he has fallen in love. He meets "Dorian" (Lori Saunders), a ballerina who was Daisy's roommate. She's the first one who seems to really understand his work, not like the art collectors who champion him as their "flavor-of-the-week". "You honor the dead", she tells him. "It's beautiful".
Antonio has a portrait that he keeps behind a curtain and shows to no one. It's by the great Erno, and it's starting to freak him out because - now that he looks more closely - it resembles Dorian. She's also starting to appear in his dreams, coaxing him toward something.......but what? The spirit of Erno is trying harder than ever to gain control but Antonio fights him because he knows Dorian will end up dead. What is it about her that motivates Erno? He seems equally frightened and enraged.
Antonio Sordi does some research and uncovers startling details about the woman in the hidden painting. Her name was "Melliza". She was Erno's mistress, a witch who turned him over to the church courts to avoid prosecution herself. Erno was burned at the stake!
OMG! Dorian must be Melizza reincarnated! Sordi has been outfoxed! Now Erno struggles to take his soul, to obtain a rematch with Melliza, the Vampire against the Witch. There will be a showdown in his studio, but here come the Beatniks to the rescue! Max and his pals are still searching for Daisy and the other missing girls. They arrive at Sordi's pad just in the nick of time.........er......or maybe not. While there, they discover a number of Wax Figures, and.........
That's all I can tell you. But, if you enjoyed the pseudo-pretentiousness of the artists in "A Bucket of Blood", you'll love it again here. I repeat that Karl Schanzer is hilarious as "Max", and Sid Haig is a riot as well. The script and direction don't have quite the same "zing" as a Corman/Griffith work, but it's close - the Beatnik scenes are equally good - but Corman executive produced and the movie has his stamp all over it. It also works as a horror film. So, a lesson from Roger Corman to up-and-coming filmmakers : No budget? Can't shoot on location? No problem! Just buy someone else's forgotten movie, one with an exotic locale, shoot some extra scenes and call it your own! Hey, it works here.
I give "Blood Bath" Two Big Thumbs Up. It's highly recommended! /////
That's all for now. Today is my last day off until August, so I'm gonna get in one final hike. See you tonight at the Usual Time!
Tons and tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Sunday, July 12, 2020
"Matthew", a writing exercise + "Girl On The Run", a film noir
We do have a movie tonight, "Girl on the Run"(1953), but before we get to it we're gonna try something a little different. Let's do a brief writing exercise in which we start with one sentence, analyse it, then move on to a second sentence and see how it builds on the information from the first, and so on. I'm inspired to do this by the Hemingway App (www.hemingwayapp.com), and while the writing style of Ernest Hemingway is not something I'd aspire to, because I tend toward long sentences haha, I've been interested in the art of sentence construction since I began blogging back in 1998, and even moreso when I started my first book in 2006. Book writing is much more strict than blog writing, but anyway let's try it. You can file it under "Weird Stuff".
Here's our first sentence :
"Matthew was hydrocephalic".
It consists of only three words, but it gives you a person (Matthew), a past tense (standard for most stories) and either a noun or adjective describing Matthew's condition. I'm not well versed in the technicalities of written grammar, so I don't know the grammatical difference between hydrocephalic and hydrocephalus, other than that the first word describes a person's affliction (i.e. possessive) and the second word names the affliction itself, which, I'm guessing, makes it a noun. So I'll take another guess and say "hydrocephalic" is a verb, and if I'm wrong it's because I didn't pay attention in 8th grade English. Thanks for bearing with me on these points by the way.
Our second sentence is :
"In layman's terms, that meant he had "water on the brain", a buildup of fluid that caused his cranium to enlarge".
Now we will switch from our technical breakdown to examine the content. The second sentence builds on the first by expanding upon the definition of hydrocephalus to include a wider audience, i.e "in layman's terms". Now, the writer has ensured that we - the laypersons - know what hydrocephaly entails, i.e. having an oversized skull resulting from excess fluid in one's cranium. The reader has also been given a colloquialism, "water on the brain", allowing him to relate, perhaps, to a phrase he may already know. So, in our first two sentences, we've used just 24 words, but we have described the abnormal medical condition of a person in terms that can be understood by most readers. They also know the person's name (Matthew), which will form the beginning of an image in each reader's mind, despite the lack, thus far, of a personal description. In other words, different names will unconsciously provoke different mental images. A "Robert" will be pictured in one way, "Clifford" in another, and "Matthew" in still another. The mind does this on it's own whether the reader realises it or not.
On to our third and fourth sentences : "The kids in Room A just called him a waterhead, which was cruel to be sure, but you know how children are. They call 'em as they see 'em". I'll note that the Hemmingway App won't let me use words like "just". It flags me for that, calling it an adverb, the #1 "no-no" at Hemingway. But in this case I feel it's needed, because it adds a dismissiveness to the children's action. There's a difference between saying : "Matthew was hydrocephalic (etc.) The kids in Room A called him a waterhead", and "Matthew was hydrocephalic (etc). The kids in Room A just called him a waterhead". The addition of "just" implies a dismissal of the technical term for Matthew's condition, in preference of something the children can not only easily understand, but that can also be used as a put-down, or something to distance themselves from Matthew, to make him into an "other". Hence, they "just" called him a waterhead; i.e. they reduced him.
Anyway, to our emerging description we've now we've added context. "The kids in Room A" tells us that Matthew is among children who are grouped in a facility of some kind. I'll go ahead and tell you that "Room A" refers to a kindergarten classroom. We see that the classmates have a mean-spirited nickname for Matthew, but then the author breaks the proverbial fourth wall to speak directly to the reader : "but you know how children are. They call 'em as they see 'em". Kids are indeed cruel, in other words. "You know it and I know it" says the author, but he adds that they don't necessarily understand why they're being cruel, i.e. "they call 'em as they see 'em", meaning that when they see someone who looks different, whether they are frightened or simply feel superior, they do what comes naturally to children, which is to name-call : "they call 'em as they see 'em", each from his or her own childish point of view.
Here's what we have so far : "Matthew was hydrocephalic. In layman's terms, that meant he had 'water on the brain', a buildup of fluid that caused his cranium to enlarge. The kids in Room A just called him a waterhead, which was cruel to be sure, but you know how children are. They call 'em as they see 'em".
Let us proceed again with further information :
"The epithet didn't bother Matthew in any event. In addition to enlarging his skull, the fluid shrank his brain. He was barely cognizant of those around him. Miss Rosenstein, our pretty young teacher, used to sit Matthew on the playground, where he could be alone to absorb the sounds of the world and feel the sunshine on his skin. There was no reason for him to be in the classroom anyway. Looking back, I have no idea why a boy like Matthew would've been placed in a regular kindergarten class like ours. Perhaps at the time there were not the special education facilities we have now".
In this paragraph we learn more about Matthew's disability. We also learn that he's a member of a kindergarten class, which gives us his age without enumerating it (he is 5, just like the other children). We now know the teacher's name and that she is young herself (Miss Rosenstein was a real person who would have been around 21 or 22 in 1965). Lastly, we now know that the author was himself a member of this class, a "regular kindergarten class" as he calls it. Now we'll continue with another paragraph.
"Monday September 27 dawned hot. By noon the air in Room A was sweltering. Miss Rosenstein turned on the fan, and gave us all wet paper towels to hold to our foreheads. At nap time she turned out the lights, and this is when the trouble began. Robert, whom the children called "Barney Google" for his goo-goo-googley eyes, burped and vomited. It was only an accident but it caused him to scream, and as he continued screaming, utter chaos broke out. The kids began throwing things at one another. First little things like pencils and crayons. Then larger things like pads of paper. Chalk flew, and erasers. Kids took off their shoes and threw those, too. Finally, they threw their nap mats, which didn't fly as far because they were unwieldy. That the attempt was made, however, demonstrated just how unglued these five year olds had become, within a matter of seconds".
"One child was not in the room when all of this happened. That was Matthew, who Miss Rosenstein had placed in his usual spot on the school playground, sometime during recess. She'd taken to sitting him there in the middle of the tarmac, in his diaper all alone, because this was the one spot in the schoolyard where he seemed comfortable, away from the other kids at their kickball games and chatter. But on that day, Miss Rosenstein had forgotten all about Matthew. She'd neglected to bring him back inside when recess ended, and now, as the temperature passed 100 degrees, he was still sitting where she'd left him, alone in the broiling sun".
"His skin turned red but didn't burn, and he never cried out for help. This might've been because he sensed the Harrier hovering above the school, directly over our classroom. The jet was silent but Matthew knew it's music. Music was what he loved most in the whole world, and Matthew knew things about music that even the greatest scholars weren't aware of, that it existed out of time, for instance. Now, as he heard the opening bell from "High Hopes", he knew intuitively that it signaled the coming of the jet, the beginning of the end, and the start of things to come".
The addition of these paragraphs gives us the beginning of a story, and indeed they comprise the opening to my next book, "The Lorne Street School Story", which I hope to complete in the next five to ten years (and hopefully much sooner, my work prevents me from concentrating on it right now). I actually began working on "TLLSS" back in 2009. I have 120 pages of separate stories that will eventually be pasted together to make an overall tale. Each one is made up of equal parts memory and what you might call "science fictionfact", where it's difficult to tell what's real and what isn't. BTW, regarding the Hemingway App - which we started to use as a "measuring stick" to corral our sentences - I neglected to run the final paragraphs through the app because it would flag me left and right for some of the syntax, but in editing them down myself, I find the paragraphs acceptable (maybe in need of a word replacement or some polishing here and there, but overall not too shabby). The Hemingway App won't let you use phrases like "had been", as in "Matthew had been sitting on the playground", because it calls that "passive voice", and for Hemingway, passive voice is to be avoided at all costs. But right now I'm reading Neil Peart's "Far and Away", his excellent and final book, and Neil uses passive voice all the time. He's a fine writer, so if it's good enough for Neil, then it's good enough for me, at least some of the time. I just like using the Hemingway App because it helps with discipline, but I don't need to adhere to it's every command, lol.
Okay, so that was a fun little exercise and a nice diversion. We'll try it again real soon. /////
As for our movie, "Girl On The Run" was a low-budget noir with a good story though fairly static filmmaking techniques. I'm just gonna give you a synopsis. A reporter is framed for murder while working undercover at a carnival. He's trying to expose the owner as a crime boss. The owner kills his publisher and blames it on him. All the evidence is against him, so he hides out in the sideshow tents, among the burlesque dancers and the freaks. His girlfriend wants to help him, so she gets a job as a dancer and pumps the other girls for information about the owner.
It's turns out he's a big time hoodlum, but he's working for someone even bigger. Who that will turn out to be is the crux of the story. It's not a bad little thriller. The acting is b-movie good, and the pace moves along at a steady clip. The plot is paint-by-numbers, but the atmosphere makes up for it. The main reason to see this film is that it appears to have been shot inside a real carnival with an actual burlesque show, circa 1953. This takes you inside a world you haven't seen and gives the proceedings a gritty authenticity. I give it Two Solid Thumbs Up and a definite recommendation. At 64 minutes, you can't go wrong. /////
That's all for the moment. Thanks for reading. I'll see you later tonight at the Usual Time.
Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Here's our first sentence :
"Matthew was hydrocephalic".
It consists of only three words, but it gives you a person (Matthew), a past tense (standard for most stories) and either a noun or adjective describing Matthew's condition. I'm not well versed in the technicalities of written grammar, so I don't know the grammatical difference between hydrocephalic and hydrocephalus, other than that the first word describes a person's affliction (i.e. possessive) and the second word names the affliction itself, which, I'm guessing, makes it a noun. So I'll take another guess and say "hydrocephalic" is a verb, and if I'm wrong it's because I didn't pay attention in 8th grade English. Thanks for bearing with me on these points by the way.
Our second sentence is :
"In layman's terms, that meant he had "water on the brain", a buildup of fluid that caused his cranium to enlarge".
Now we will switch from our technical breakdown to examine the content. The second sentence builds on the first by expanding upon the definition of hydrocephalus to include a wider audience, i.e "in layman's terms". Now, the writer has ensured that we - the laypersons - know what hydrocephaly entails, i.e. having an oversized skull resulting from excess fluid in one's cranium. The reader has also been given a colloquialism, "water on the brain", allowing him to relate, perhaps, to a phrase he may already know. So, in our first two sentences, we've used just 24 words, but we have described the abnormal medical condition of a person in terms that can be understood by most readers. They also know the person's name (Matthew), which will form the beginning of an image in each reader's mind, despite the lack, thus far, of a personal description. In other words, different names will unconsciously provoke different mental images. A "Robert" will be pictured in one way, "Clifford" in another, and "Matthew" in still another. The mind does this on it's own whether the reader realises it or not.
On to our third and fourth sentences : "The kids in Room A just called him a waterhead, which was cruel to be sure, but you know how children are. They call 'em as they see 'em". I'll note that the Hemmingway App won't let me use words like "just". It flags me for that, calling it an adverb, the #1 "no-no" at Hemingway. But in this case I feel it's needed, because it adds a dismissiveness to the children's action. There's a difference between saying : "Matthew was hydrocephalic (etc.) The kids in Room A called him a waterhead", and "Matthew was hydrocephalic (etc). The kids in Room A just called him a waterhead". The addition of "just" implies a dismissal of the technical term for Matthew's condition, in preference of something the children can not only easily understand, but that can also be used as a put-down, or something to distance themselves from Matthew, to make him into an "other". Hence, they "just" called him a waterhead; i.e. they reduced him.
Anyway, to our emerging description we've now we've added context. "The kids in Room A" tells us that Matthew is among children who are grouped in a facility of some kind. I'll go ahead and tell you that "Room A" refers to a kindergarten classroom. We see that the classmates have a mean-spirited nickname for Matthew, but then the author breaks the proverbial fourth wall to speak directly to the reader : "but you know how children are. They call 'em as they see 'em". Kids are indeed cruel, in other words. "You know it and I know it" says the author, but he adds that they don't necessarily understand why they're being cruel, i.e. "they call 'em as they see 'em", meaning that when they see someone who looks different, whether they are frightened or simply feel superior, they do what comes naturally to children, which is to name-call : "they call 'em as they see 'em", each from his or her own childish point of view.
Here's what we have so far : "Matthew was hydrocephalic. In layman's terms, that meant he had 'water on the brain', a buildup of fluid that caused his cranium to enlarge. The kids in Room A just called him a waterhead, which was cruel to be sure, but you know how children are. They call 'em as they see 'em".
Let us proceed again with further information :
"The epithet didn't bother Matthew in any event. In addition to enlarging his skull, the fluid shrank his brain. He was barely cognizant of those around him. Miss Rosenstein, our pretty young teacher, used to sit Matthew on the playground, where he could be alone to absorb the sounds of the world and feel the sunshine on his skin. There was no reason for him to be in the classroom anyway. Looking back, I have no idea why a boy like Matthew would've been placed in a regular kindergarten class like ours. Perhaps at the time there were not the special education facilities we have now".
In this paragraph we learn more about Matthew's disability. We also learn that he's a member of a kindergarten class, which gives us his age without enumerating it (he is 5, just like the other children). We now know the teacher's name and that she is young herself (Miss Rosenstein was a real person who would have been around 21 or 22 in 1965). Lastly, we now know that the author was himself a member of this class, a "regular kindergarten class" as he calls it. Now we'll continue with another paragraph.
"Monday September 27 dawned hot. By noon the air in Room A was sweltering. Miss Rosenstein turned on the fan, and gave us all wet paper towels to hold to our foreheads. At nap time she turned out the lights, and this is when the trouble began. Robert, whom the children called "Barney Google" for his goo-goo-googley eyes, burped and vomited. It was only an accident but it caused him to scream, and as he continued screaming, utter chaos broke out. The kids began throwing things at one another. First little things like pencils and crayons. Then larger things like pads of paper. Chalk flew, and erasers. Kids took off their shoes and threw those, too. Finally, they threw their nap mats, which didn't fly as far because they were unwieldy. That the attempt was made, however, demonstrated just how unglued these five year olds had become, within a matter of seconds".
"One child was not in the room when all of this happened. That was Matthew, who Miss Rosenstein had placed in his usual spot on the school playground, sometime during recess. She'd taken to sitting him there in the middle of the tarmac, in his diaper all alone, because this was the one spot in the schoolyard where he seemed comfortable, away from the other kids at their kickball games and chatter. But on that day, Miss Rosenstein had forgotten all about Matthew. She'd neglected to bring him back inside when recess ended, and now, as the temperature passed 100 degrees, he was still sitting where she'd left him, alone in the broiling sun".
"His skin turned red but didn't burn, and he never cried out for help. This might've been because he sensed the Harrier hovering above the school, directly over our classroom. The jet was silent but Matthew knew it's music. Music was what he loved most in the whole world, and Matthew knew things about music that even the greatest scholars weren't aware of, that it existed out of time, for instance. Now, as he heard the opening bell from "High Hopes", he knew intuitively that it signaled the coming of the jet, the beginning of the end, and the start of things to come".
The addition of these paragraphs gives us the beginning of a story, and indeed they comprise the opening to my next book, "The Lorne Street School Story", which I hope to complete in the next five to ten years (and hopefully much sooner, my work prevents me from concentrating on it right now). I actually began working on "TLLSS" back in 2009. I have 120 pages of separate stories that will eventually be pasted together to make an overall tale. Each one is made up of equal parts memory and what you might call "science fictionfact", where it's difficult to tell what's real and what isn't. BTW, regarding the Hemingway App - which we started to use as a "measuring stick" to corral our sentences - I neglected to run the final paragraphs through the app because it would flag me left and right for some of the syntax, but in editing them down myself, I find the paragraphs acceptable (maybe in need of a word replacement or some polishing here and there, but overall not too shabby). The Hemingway App won't let you use phrases like "had been", as in "Matthew had been sitting on the playground", because it calls that "passive voice", and for Hemingway, passive voice is to be avoided at all costs. But right now I'm reading Neil Peart's "Far and Away", his excellent and final book, and Neil uses passive voice all the time. He's a fine writer, so if it's good enough for Neil, then it's good enough for me, at least some of the time. I just like using the Hemingway App because it helps with discipline, but I don't need to adhere to it's every command, lol.
Okay, so that was a fun little exercise and a nice diversion. We'll try it again real soon. /////
As for our movie, "Girl On The Run" was a low-budget noir with a good story though fairly static filmmaking techniques. I'm just gonna give you a synopsis. A reporter is framed for murder while working undercover at a carnival. He's trying to expose the owner as a crime boss. The owner kills his publisher and blames it on him. All the evidence is against him, so he hides out in the sideshow tents, among the burlesque dancers and the freaks. His girlfriend wants to help him, so she gets a job as a dancer and pumps the other girls for information about the owner.
It's turns out he's a big time hoodlum, but he's working for someone even bigger. Who that will turn out to be is the crux of the story. It's not a bad little thriller. The acting is b-movie good, and the pace moves along at a steady clip. The plot is paint-by-numbers, but the atmosphere makes up for it. The main reason to see this film is that it appears to have been shot inside a real carnival with an actual burlesque show, circa 1953. This takes you inside a world you haven't seen and gives the proceedings a gritty authenticity. I give it Two Solid Thumbs Up and a definite recommendation. At 64 minutes, you can't go wrong. /////
That's all for the moment. Thanks for reading. I'll see you later tonight at the Usual Time.
Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Saturday, July 11, 2020
"I Was A Teenage Werewolf" starring Michael Landon and Whit Bissell
Tonight we finally watched one of the classics of 1950s Horror : "I Was A Teenage Werewolf"(1957), starring the late, great Michael Landon as the youthful lycanthrope. I have no answer for why it took us so long to see it. Maybe it's because it has "Teenage" in the title. Prior to our pandemic-inspired venture into the public domain, I didn't take such movies seriously. But then we saw "Teenagers From Outer Space", an idiosyncratic and original look at the flying saucer genre, and we discovered that, while there were teenagers in the movie, the word was used mostly as a marketing tool to get teenagers into the theater. In other words, it was a really good movie and not just for kids. That led us to watch "I Was A Teenage Frankenstein", which we found when we began to use Youtube lists as sources of available pictures. We thought it was exceptionally well done. Whit Bissell was downright demonic as the Mad Doctor. In fact, we called it one of the best Frankenstein movies we'd ever seen. So, with the success of that film, the clock was ticking on "Teenage Werewolf". It was only a matter of time before we saw it, and now we finally have.
Landon plays "Tony", a troubled teen with a hair-trigger temper. He gets in fights at school, so often that the principal calls in a policeman to settle him down. The cop tells Tony he needs help. "Y'know, we've got a doctor who works with us on his days off. He's really good. He's helped a lot of kids in your shoes and he listens. You should talk to him, son".
This only sets Tony off. "Oh....so he's that kind of doctor? A headshrinker? Listen mister, no shrink is gonna brainwash me"! He storms off and that's the end of it, for now.
Tony is dating "Arlene" (Yvonne Lime), a nice girl from the same high school. One night, when he goes to pick her up, he honks his horn from the street. This doesn't sit well with Arlene's father, who tells her to ask Tony in. "I'd like to see if he has any manners". He actually does - Tony is polite - but he can't stand being told what to do. On this occasion, he barely tolerates the interrogation from Arlene's Dad. "Bring her back by midnight.....understand"? Tony nods and leaves with Arlene.
They go to a Halloween party where everyone is having a blast. This scene is an absolute classic of 1950s sock hop nostalgia. All the kids are in costume, they all have that '50s "gee whiz" exuberance, they're ready to break out into song and dance ala "West Side Story", and - being high schoolers - they all share a love of pranks, which they play on one another as the party continues. Tony joins in the fun and seems to relax. He laughs at the practical jokes, but when he becomes the target his mood changes. In an instant his joy turns to fury and he's beating the tar out of his best friend. This does it. Arlene can't take his anger any more. Tony agrees to see the "headshrinking" doctor in order to save the relationship.
I hate to say it folks, but the doctor is Whit Bissell. Now, we saw the movies backwards, the sequel first, so we have the benefit of knowing what a total psycho he is. Tony doesn't have that advantage. He's going in cold. And even though Bissell isn't playing Doctor Frankenstein this time (he's "Dr. Alfred Brandon"), he's basically the same character - a megalomaniacal researcher, ruthless and devoid of compassion. After giving Tony a brief interview, he leaves the room to talk to his assistant : "Quickly, prepare a shot of scopolamine"!
I have to cut in to ask, "What's up with the scopolamine"? That's the second time it's been used this week, first by Vincent Price in "Shock" and now here. Word must be getting around, I dunno, but it's definitely trending. Anyway - be warned! Don't let anyone inject you with this stuff , especially Whit Bissell.
Whereas Price used the drug to erase memory, Bissell wants to use it on Tony to test out a pet theory of his : the possibility of de-evolution through hypnotic regression. Bissell, much like his Dr. Frankenstein in the sequel, believes that humanity has passed the point of no return. Human behavior has deteriorated into world wars, and now the escalating threat of apocalypse. "Our only hope is to start over", he says, and to do that he wants to experiment with regression, to take a subject back in time, not merely to birth but far beyond - to the dawn of man. He believes that by doing this, he can bring out man's latent animal nature - even change his dna! - so that mankind can start over from scratch, and be directed away from violence by all-knowing experts like himself. I mean.....it's a nice notion, but.......
Did I mention he was a Total Psycho? Ahh, yes.
When the assistant balks at preparing the scopolamine, Bissell berates him. "How dare you stand in the way of science! We've got a perfect guinea pig! This boy has a record of being in trouble, his only relative is his father, who's rarely home. No one will know. Now do as I tell you! This is why you're still an assistant, you're too timid"!
With the drug running through his veins, Tony is hypnotised by Dr. Bissell, who takes him back to a time when he sees himself running through the wild. It looks like Griffith Park. Happy with the results, Bissell brings him out of it. "That's enough for today. I'll see you same time tomorrow". But apparently, one session is enough to do the trick, because that night, after another party, one of the friends is savagely murdered while walking home through the park, on the same trail Tony saw during hypnosis.
The school janitor, an elderly European man, tells the cops it was a werewolf. "I am from the Carpathian Mountains where we have seen such things". The cinematic Law of Rational-Minded Police Officers, however, prevents them from believing him. But then, the next day, another murder occurs, this time at the high school, where a gymnast is killed while practicing her routine. This time, the kids identify Tony by his letterman's jacket. But they also see his face, which is covered with hair, and his sharp, protruding teeth. "It didn't look like Tony, but it had to be him"! Now the police are taking the janitor more seriously.
A manhunt ensues through Griffith Park. Tony manages to evade the police and by morning he has reverted to his normal self. Knowing something is very wrong, he heads immediately to Bissell's office. "Doctor, I woke up in the woods just now. I don't know how I got there. You've got to help me"! With the experience fresh in Tony's mind, Bissell hypnotises him one more time, to get it all on tape. He wants evidence of Tony's regression, to present it to the American Psychiatric Association so they will acknowledge his genius. But he's gone to the well too many times. The scopolamine has an instant effect. Tony transforms into the werewolf right before Bissell's eyes, and you can guess the rest.
While "I Was A Teenage Werewolf" doesn't have the complex plot of it's sequel ("Teenage Frankenstein"), it does give us a deeper character study of the protangonist. This is the movie that made Michael Landon into a star, and he's very good as Tony, the rebel without his claws (sorry, couldn't resist). In fact, he could easily have starred in the James Dean vehicle, such is the quality of his portrayal of teen angst in this film. Apparently. some critics saw his transformation as a metaphor for violent youth as a looming threat to society, and wrote their objections in their reviews. "Avoid this movie, which attempts to give the impression that our young people are Monsters"! At least they were stickin' up for the kids, but they got it wrong. If anything, the filmmakers are warning us about the evils of out-of-control psychiatric practices, which at the time included lobotomies, electroshock "therapy", and the use of such horrible drugs as scopolamine and thorazine, all on a regular basis. All you have to do is read about the career of Ewen Cameron, who was president of the American Psychiatric Association for crying out loud (which made him the #1 Shrink in the country), to see how evil their practices were. Which is not to say that psychiatry is evil in it's entirety - far from it, I'm sure it's helped a lot of people - but a great many of them resorted to truly horrific procedures on helpless people, just to "experiment" with new techniques. Buncha sick mofos, which is what Whit Bissell is playing here.
The plot is simple but it's a no-fat film, with a perfect little script, and while the budget is low, there's some exceptionally good camera work, involving nice tracking shots and good overall fluidity. And, as mentioned, it all has that 1950s "Happy Days" aura, except when Tony starts killing people, of course.
I'm gonna go out on a limb and give it Two Huge Thumbs Up, just because it's got all the ingredients to make it a classic, and even though it's simple it would hold up to repeat - and even annual - viewings, like on Halloween night for instance. It's one of the best werewolf movies ever made, as well as a top entry in the "teen angst" genre. You've probably seen it, but just in case you haven't, it's highly recommended, a must see for horror fans.
(R.I.P, Michael Landon, who we used to see all the time when I worked at MGM. He had an office on the lot, and he parked his red Ferrari by the door. At around 6:30 every day, he'd drive home, and if us lab workers happened to be out front on a break, he'd wave. He was a cool guy.) /////
That's all for now. I had another nice hike today. 'Twas a hot one, but I love it. I went to the store for a watermelon, which is chillin' in the fridge as we speak. Gonna have me a slice in a just a minute here. Hooray for Summer! See you in a little while, at the Usual Time.
Tons of love! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Landon plays "Tony", a troubled teen with a hair-trigger temper. He gets in fights at school, so often that the principal calls in a policeman to settle him down. The cop tells Tony he needs help. "Y'know, we've got a doctor who works with us on his days off. He's really good. He's helped a lot of kids in your shoes and he listens. You should talk to him, son".
This only sets Tony off. "Oh....so he's that kind of doctor? A headshrinker? Listen mister, no shrink is gonna brainwash me"! He storms off and that's the end of it, for now.
Tony is dating "Arlene" (Yvonne Lime), a nice girl from the same high school. One night, when he goes to pick her up, he honks his horn from the street. This doesn't sit well with Arlene's father, who tells her to ask Tony in. "I'd like to see if he has any manners". He actually does - Tony is polite - but he can't stand being told what to do. On this occasion, he barely tolerates the interrogation from Arlene's Dad. "Bring her back by midnight.....understand"? Tony nods and leaves with Arlene.
They go to a Halloween party where everyone is having a blast. This scene is an absolute classic of 1950s sock hop nostalgia. All the kids are in costume, they all have that '50s "gee whiz" exuberance, they're ready to break out into song and dance ala "West Side Story", and - being high schoolers - they all share a love of pranks, which they play on one another as the party continues. Tony joins in the fun and seems to relax. He laughs at the practical jokes, but when he becomes the target his mood changes. In an instant his joy turns to fury and he's beating the tar out of his best friend. This does it. Arlene can't take his anger any more. Tony agrees to see the "headshrinking" doctor in order to save the relationship.
I hate to say it folks, but the doctor is Whit Bissell. Now, we saw the movies backwards, the sequel first, so we have the benefit of knowing what a total psycho he is. Tony doesn't have that advantage. He's going in cold. And even though Bissell isn't playing Doctor Frankenstein this time (he's "Dr. Alfred Brandon"), he's basically the same character - a megalomaniacal researcher, ruthless and devoid of compassion. After giving Tony a brief interview, he leaves the room to talk to his assistant : "Quickly, prepare a shot of scopolamine"!
I have to cut in to ask, "What's up with the scopolamine"? That's the second time it's been used this week, first by Vincent Price in "Shock" and now here. Word must be getting around, I dunno, but it's definitely trending. Anyway - be warned! Don't let anyone inject you with this stuff , especially Whit Bissell.
Whereas Price used the drug to erase memory, Bissell wants to use it on Tony to test out a pet theory of his : the possibility of de-evolution through hypnotic regression. Bissell, much like his Dr. Frankenstein in the sequel, believes that humanity has passed the point of no return. Human behavior has deteriorated into world wars, and now the escalating threat of apocalypse. "Our only hope is to start over", he says, and to do that he wants to experiment with regression, to take a subject back in time, not merely to birth but far beyond - to the dawn of man. He believes that by doing this, he can bring out man's latent animal nature - even change his dna! - so that mankind can start over from scratch, and be directed away from violence by all-knowing experts like himself. I mean.....it's a nice notion, but.......
Did I mention he was a Total Psycho? Ahh, yes.
When the assistant balks at preparing the scopolamine, Bissell berates him. "How dare you stand in the way of science! We've got a perfect guinea pig! This boy has a record of being in trouble, his only relative is his father, who's rarely home. No one will know. Now do as I tell you! This is why you're still an assistant, you're too timid"!
With the drug running through his veins, Tony is hypnotised by Dr. Bissell, who takes him back to a time when he sees himself running through the wild. It looks like Griffith Park. Happy with the results, Bissell brings him out of it. "That's enough for today. I'll see you same time tomorrow". But apparently, one session is enough to do the trick, because that night, after another party, one of the friends is savagely murdered while walking home through the park, on the same trail Tony saw during hypnosis.
The school janitor, an elderly European man, tells the cops it was a werewolf. "I am from the Carpathian Mountains where we have seen such things". The cinematic Law of Rational-Minded Police Officers, however, prevents them from believing him. But then, the next day, another murder occurs, this time at the high school, where a gymnast is killed while practicing her routine. This time, the kids identify Tony by his letterman's jacket. But they also see his face, which is covered with hair, and his sharp, protruding teeth. "It didn't look like Tony, but it had to be him"! Now the police are taking the janitor more seriously.
A manhunt ensues through Griffith Park. Tony manages to evade the police and by morning he has reverted to his normal self. Knowing something is very wrong, he heads immediately to Bissell's office. "Doctor, I woke up in the woods just now. I don't know how I got there. You've got to help me"! With the experience fresh in Tony's mind, Bissell hypnotises him one more time, to get it all on tape. He wants evidence of Tony's regression, to present it to the American Psychiatric Association so they will acknowledge his genius. But he's gone to the well too many times. The scopolamine has an instant effect. Tony transforms into the werewolf right before Bissell's eyes, and you can guess the rest.
While "I Was A Teenage Werewolf" doesn't have the complex plot of it's sequel ("Teenage Frankenstein"), it does give us a deeper character study of the protangonist. This is the movie that made Michael Landon into a star, and he's very good as Tony, the rebel without his claws (sorry, couldn't resist). In fact, he could easily have starred in the James Dean vehicle, such is the quality of his portrayal of teen angst in this film. Apparently. some critics saw his transformation as a metaphor for violent youth as a looming threat to society, and wrote their objections in their reviews. "Avoid this movie, which attempts to give the impression that our young people are Monsters"! At least they were stickin' up for the kids, but they got it wrong. If anything, the filmmakers are warning us about the evils of out-of-control psychiatric practices, which at the time included lobotomies, electroshock "therapy", and the use of such horrible drugs as scopolamine and thorazine, all on a regular basis. All you have to do is read about the career of Ewen Cameron, who was president of the American Psychiatric Association for crying out loud (which made him the #1 Shrink in the country), to see how evil their practices were. Which is not to say that psychiatry is evil in it's entirety - far from it, I'm sure it's helped a lot of people - but a great many of them resorted to truly horrific procedures on helpless people, just to "experiment" with new techniques. Buncha sick mofos, which is what Whit Bissell is playing here.
The plot is simple but it's a no-fat film, with a perfect little script, and while the budget is low, there's some exceptionally good camera work, involving nice tracking shots and good overall fluidity. And, as mentioned, it all has that 1950s "Happy Days" aura, except when Tony starts killing people, of course.
I'm gonna go out on a limb and give it Two Huge Thumbs Up, just because it's got all the ingredients to make it a classic, and even though it's simple it would hold up to repeat - and even annual - viewings, like on Halloween night for instance. It's one of the best werewolf movies ever made, as well as a top entry in the "teen angst" genre. You've probably seen it, but just in case you haven't, it's highly recommended, a must see for horror fans.
(R.I.P, Michael Landon, who we used to see all the time when I worked at MGM. He had an office on the lot, and he parked his red Ferrari by the door. At around 6:30 every day, he'd drive home, and if us lab workers happened to be out front on a break, he'd wave. He was a cool guy.) /////
That's all for now. I had another nice hike today. 'Twas a hot one, but I love it. I went to the store for a watermelon, which is chillin' in the fridge as we speak. Gonna have me a slice in a just a minute here. Hooray for Summer! See you in a little while, at the Usual Time.
Tons of love! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Friday, July 10, 2020
"The Face Behind The Mask" starring Peter Lorre and Evelyn Keyes
Tonight's movie was a combination film noir/melodrama starring Peter Lorre, entitled "The Face Behind the Mask"(1941), delivered once again by the amazing Mr. Spinks of Youtube, who has provided us with many a gem and does so here.
Lorre is "Janos Szabo" a Hungarian immigrant fresh off the boat in New York. No sooner does he pass the Statue of Liberty than his heart bleeds red, white and blue. He's the epitome of the grateful newcomer to the good 'ol USA, leaving a less fortunate country for the Promised Land. On the city streets, he tries out his English on other citizens. Janos is looking for a place to stay, and after joking with a friendly policeman (Don Beddoe), the cop directs him to a rent-a-bed hotel owned by a friend of his. "It's not fancy but it's clean".
Janos thanks the officer, "Lt. Jim O'Hara", and walks a few blocks to the flophouse, where he checks in. "We're not strict here", says the owner, "but I do have one ironclad rule - no cooking with hotplates. Too dangerous around the curtains". Well, listen.......when a screenwriter uses that line, whattaya think is gonna happen? And you're right. There's a fire in the hotel, on Janos' very first night.
He doesn't cause it. As we've seen, Janos is eager to please and has no problem abiding by rules. He's anything but a malcontent and is overjoyed to be in America. But the Wiseguy in the room next door is not so honest. He starts the fire by cooking a can of chili. Now the rooms are aflame. The Wiseguy makes it out of the building. Janos doesn't. He lives, but when doctors remove his bandages, his face is horribly disfigured. Naturally he's devastated, but before leaving the hospital he regains a measure of optimism, based on the fact that he's a multi-talented worker.
"In Hungary I was an expert watchmaker", he tells his doctor. "I also worked in the aircraft industry. I know my face is destroyed, but I still have my hands. Surely someone will need me". He then sets out to find a job, but once potential employers get a look at him, they all turn him down. Poor Janos. Once full of hope, now he is despondent. He heads for the waterfront, where he plans to jump in.
At the last second, a man stops him. "Hey! Hey buddy! Whataya think yer doin"? The man's name is Dinky. He tries to cheer Janos up. "Awww, c'mon friend.....nothing could be that bad, to make you wanna kill yourself".
"You haven't seen my face".
"What're you talkin' about? I'm lookin' at it right now. Sure, it ain't perfect, but who cares! Look at mine, it ain't much better"!
"But others don't like my face. No one will give me a job. How am I to earn a living"?
"Aww, pal......that's no problem either. I'll give you a job. I've got lots of jobs lined up that would be perfect for a guy like you. Let's go somewhere and get a bite to eat, then we'll talk".
Dinky appears to be a genuinely nice man. He's also a criminal. The "jobs" he has for Janos range from scams to burglaries to safecracking. Janos' ethics tell him it's wrong to make a living this way. "But what else am I to do"?, he counters. Soon, his intelligence and skill with his hands have propelled him to the top of his criminal enterprise. When the old "boss" gets out of prison, he finds that Janos has taken over. "Jeff" (James Seay) is a pretty tough guy, but Janos is even tougher. All of his former optimism has fermented, turning him into a Grade A Cynic. He's ruthless now, and sends Jeff away with a warning never to come back. "Me and the gang don't need you". This will set up a desire for payback on Jeff's part. He's a case-hardened convict. Nobody gets away with pushing Jeff around.
Pulling job after successful job has given Janos enough money to do something about his face. Through channels he learns of a plastic surgeon who is said to work miracles. "He's even given some of our associates a new mug", says Dinky, referring to gangsters who needed a change of identity. But as talented as the man is, he tells Janos that in his case, there is nothing he can do. "I'm sorry, Mr. Szabo, but you see, the tendons below your scar tissue were destroyed. I'd have nothing to graft to". He does, however, offer Janos an alternative. "There is one other option. I can make you a mask, one that will look just like your old face. Others with severe burns have used them; they're very lifelike. All I need is an old photograph of you to go by".
"And would it allow me to go out in public"?, asks Janos.
"It would indeed. Your friends might not even notice the difference".
Janos accepts and soon has his mask. While it isn't seamless, he looks, and more importantly feels, enough like his old self to regain his sense of virtue. His optimism returns. There's a spring in his step again. On the street, he bumps into a young blind woman (Evelyn Keyes), who spills the contents of her purse on the sidewalk. Janos helps her pick everything up, then starts a conversation. Her name is Helen. She's quite friendly, very beautiful, and Janos notices that, despite her blindness, she shares his optimistic nature. Soon they are seeing a lot of each other. In the park one day, Janos asks about her impairment.
"What's it like being blind"?
I won't try to re-create her answer, it's better you see it yourself, but it's exceptionally beautiful and profound. Keyes gives a monologue on the blessings of being blind. "I live in a magical world of sound and imagination". This is a scene worthy of a Best Picture winner, and the expression on Keyes' face as she's telling Lorre these things lifts the movie to a spiritual dimension, once again similar to the dialogue and themes in "The Enchanted Cottage", which we mentioned recently and which would make a good "companion piece" for this picture.
Janos asks Helen to marry him, and when she accepts, he tells his gang that he's getting out. "I've pulled my last job, fellas". Dinky, the crook with the heart of gold, is sad to see Janos go straight, but he also knows it's for the best because it's Janos' true nature.
But one man lurks in the shadows who's still out to get Janos : Jeff, his old rival in the syndicate. He's got his gang back; with Janos gone, he's the boss again. But that doesn't satisfy Jeff. Janos has to pay. Something happens as he and Helen move into their new home. I'm debating whether to reveal it, and I think I will not, but you should prepare yourself. This event will cause Janos to be involved with his gang one last time, and again, I won't tell you how, but it involves his prior experience with aircraft.
"The Face Behind The Mask" is an excellent thriller with a spiritual undercurrent. Lorre is fantastic as "Janos", whom he invests with real personality. He's playing a man of his own nationality (Hungarian), so maybe he saw something of himself in the character, but at any rate, it's one of his best roles. And, as mentioned, Evelyn Keyes steals the movie as "Helen", the ever-hopeful blind woman. Also good is George E. Stone as "Dinky" the kind-hearted thief. Almost everyone is a good guy in this movie, except Jeff, the angry crime boss.
I give it Two Huge Thumbs Up, and a strong recommendation. Don't miss it. ////
That's all for now. It's lunchtime. My writing schedule is all messed up, haha. But I've been hiking all over the place. Yesterday, I went up past the Slide at Santa Susana, past Lilac Lane and part way down the Spahn Ranch Trail. I have yet to go all the way there, it would add another hour to my hike and the trail is a little steep in places, but one of these days I'll do it. Nothing of the ranch remains, it's just a dirt lot (which you can see from Garden of The Gods across the highway), but there's still that famous rock, and that creek, both from the Life magazine pictures.
Well, anyhow.............man, I wish I had a hiking partner. I'm sick of doing everything by myself. :(
But I shant complain. It's a gorgeous day, so here I go. See you tonight at the Usual Time.
Tons of love! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Lorre is "Janos Szabo" a Hungarian immigrant fresh off the boat in New York. No sooner does he pass the Statue of Liberty than his heart bleeds red, white and blue. He's the epitome of the grateful newcomer to the good 'ol USA, leaving a less fortunate country for the Promised Land. On the city streets, he tries out his English on other citizens. Janos is looking for a place to stay, and after joking with a friendly policeman (Don Beddoe), the cop directs him to a rent-a-bed hotel owned by a friend of his. "It's not fancy but it's clean".
Janos thanks the officer, "Lt. Jim O'Hara", and walks a few blocks to the flophouse, where he checks in. "We're not strict here", says the owner, "but I do have one ironclad rule - no cooking with hotplates. Too dangerous around the curtains". Well, listen.......when a screenwriter uses that line, whattaya think is gonna happen? And you're right. There's a fire in the hotel, on Janos' very first night.
He doesn't cause it. As we've seen, Janos is eager to please and has no problem abiding by rules. He's anything but a malcontent and is overjoyed to be in America. But the Wiseguy in the room next door is not so honest. He starts the fire by cooking a can of chili. Now the rooms are aflame. The Wiseguy makes it out of the building. Janos doesn't. He lives, but when doctors remove his bandages, his face is horribly disfigured. Naturally he's devastated, but before leaving the hospital he regains a measure of optimism, based on the fact that he's a multi-talented worker.
"In Hungary I was an expert watchmaker", he tells his doctor. "I also worked in the aircraft industry. I know my face is destroyed, but I still have my hands. Surely someone will need me". He then sets out to find a job, but once potential employers get a look at him, they all turn him down. Poor Janos. Once full of hope, now he is despondent. He heads for the waterfront, where he plans to jump in.
At the last second, a man stops him. "Hey! Hey buddy! Whataya think yer doin"? The man's name is Dinky. He tries to cheer Janos up. "Awww, c'mon friend.....nothing could be that bad, to make you wanna kill yourself".
"You haven't seen my face".
"What're you talkin' about? I'm lookin' at it right now. Sure, it ain't perfect, but who cares! Look at mine, it ain't much better"!
"But others don't like my face. No one will give me a job. How am I to earn a living"?
"Aww, pal......that's no problem either. I'll give you a job. I've got lots of jobs lined up that would be perfect for a guy like you. Let's go somewhere and get a bite to eat, then we'll talk".
Dinky appears to be a genuinely nice man. He's also a criminal. The "jobs" he has for Janos range from scams to burglaries to safecracking. Janos' ethics tell him it's wrong to make a living this way. "But what else am I to do"?, he counters. Soon, his intelligence and skill with his hands have propelled him to the top of his criminal enterprise. When the old "boss" gets out of prison, he finds that Janos has taken over. "Jeff" (James Seay) is a pretty tough guy, but Janos is even tougher. All of his former optimism has fermented, turning him into a Grade A Cynic. He's ruthless now, and sends Jeff away with a warning never to come back. "Me and the gang don't need you". This will set up a desire for payback on Jeff's part. He's a case-hardened convict. Nobody gets away with pushing Jeff around.
Pulling job after successful job has given Janos enough money to do something about his face. Through channels he learns of a plastic surgeon who is said to work miracles. "He's even given some of our associates a new mug", says Dinky, referring to gangsters who needed a change of identity. But as talented as the man is, he tells Janos that in his case, there is nothing he can do. "I'm sorry, Mr. Szabo, but you see, the tendons below your scar tissue were destroyed. I'd have nothing to graft to". He does, however, offer Janos an alternative. "There is one other option. I can make you a mask, one that will look just like your old face. Others with severe burns have used them; they're very lifelike. All I need is an old photograph of you to go by".
"And would it allow me to go out in public"?, asks Janos.
"It would indeed. Your friends might not even notice the difference".
Janos accepts and soon has his mask. While it isn't seamless, he looks, and more importantly feels, enough like his old self to regain his sense of virtue. His optimism returns. There's a spring in his step again. On the street, he bumps into a young blind woman (Evelyn Keyes), who spills the contents of her purse on the sidewalk. Janos helps her pick everything up, then starts a conversation. Her name is Helen. She's quite friendly, very beautiful, and Janos notices that, despite her blindness, she shares his optimistic nature. Soon they are seeing a lot of each other. In the park one day, Janos asks about her impairment.
"What's it like being blind"?
I won't try to re-create her answer, it's better you see it yourself, but it's exceptionally beautiful and profound. Keyes gives a monologue on the blessings of being blind. "I live in a magical world of sound and imagination". This is a scene worthy of a Best Picture winner, and the expression on Keyes' face as she's telling Lorre these things lifts the movie to a spiritual dimension, once again similar to the dialogue and themes in "The Enchanted Cottage", which we mentioned recently and which would make a good "companion piece" for this picture.
Janos asks Helen to marry him, and when she accepts, he tells his gang that he's getting out. "I've pulled my last job, fellas". Dinky, the crook with the heart of gold, is sad to see Janos go straight, but he also knows it's for the best because it's Janos' true nature.
But one man lurks in the shadows who's still out to get Janos : Jeff, his old rival in the syndicate. He's got his gang back; with Janos gone, he's the boss again. But that doesn't satisfy Jeff. Janos has to pay. Something happens as he and Helen move into their new home. I'm debating whether to reveal it, and I think I will not, but you should prepare yourself. This event will cause Janos to be involved with his gang one last time, and again, I won't tell you how, but it involves his prior experience with aircraft.
"The Face Behind The Mask" is an excellent thriller with a spiritual undercurrent. Lorre is fantastic as "Janos", whom he invests with real personality. He's playing a man of his own nationality (Hungarian), so maybe he saw something of himself in the character, but at any rate, it's one of his best roles. And, as mentioned, Evelyn Keyes steals the movie as "Helen", the ever-hopeful blind woman. Also good is George E. Stone as "Dinky" the kind-hearted thief. Almost everyone is a good guy in this movie, except Jeff, the angry crime boss.
I give it Two Huge Thumbs Up, and a strong recommendation. Don't miss it. ////
That's all for now. It's lunchtime. My writing schedule is all messed up, haha. But I've been hiking all over the place. Yesterday, I went up past the Slide at Santa Susana, past Lilac Lane and part way down the Spahn Ranch Trail. I have yet to go all the way there, it would add another hour to my hike and the trail is a little steep in places, but one of these days I'll do it. Nothing of the ranch remains, it's just a dirt lot (which you can see from Garden of The Gods across the highway), but there's still that famous rock, and that creek, both from the Life magazine pictures.
Well, anyhow.............man, I wish I had a hiking partner. I'm sick of doing everything by myself. :(
But I shant complain. It's a gorgeous day, so here I go. See you tonight at the Usual Time.
Tons of love! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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