Why not some Joy Division to cheer me up.

When I return to work after a vacation of less than 2 months, and the conditions seem unbearable the first day back, and I want to walk our and I almost do walk out, knowing I have no other economic recompense, I get tired and wish for the past. I used to live on a little over $300. per month. I don't think I ate much. And I never bought new clothes. And I didn't have a car. And life weren't so tedious sometimes.

Nevertheless I have felt like there is a wealth of experience beyond the "job" that, as long as it isn't over 7 and 1/2 hours per day, it's maybe do-able. Maybe.

In any case, the experience of watching the 2007 documentary on the band Joy Division, really helped me overcome the braindeadness of suprastress. The footage of the band and how they sounded in the beginning and their having come from an industrial place in England were the threads that wove themselves through the film. The film itself with the band members and other players in their success be interviewed in 2007 looking back, all of them set against a typical black confessional background, was kind of corny and pretentious. I had never seen the band although I had both of their records and played them all the time when I was about the same age as they were. I was going through a break up with my husband.

Ian Curtis got married at 17. He later had a French-speaking Belgian girlfriend. He read incessantly and had untreated bipolar disorder. When I listened to the band, I had no idea how Ian writhed all over the stage or what he looked like. I guess I didn't care. I was a punkette but had to work to pay for some expensive studio I had gotten in the upper Haight.

But the experience I had of Joy Division was not all about me. It was about other lives of my own of those of others and somehow transporting myself out of this lifetime to another my own --or someone else's.

FRIENDS OUT WEST!

Yes, it has been one of those weeks in which one just looks for something to read to take one's mind off all the "problems," and for me that transportative book tonight is Dora's trip out west. THe first page has a giant Dora with her hands on her hips standing next to a giant cactus with a couple of pretty pink flowers. Dora says "Howdy explorers! I am Cowgirl Dora..." She then opines that the horses must be fed. Map says she must go through "Echo Tunnel" but how will she know it's Echo Tunnel?
"Right!
Make an echo.
Will you help me?"
The tunnel has to say 'hello' back for it to be an Echo Tunnel of Dora's 'hello.'
(This is hard to write while listening to Vinnie Vincent but it's more fun.)
Map tells Dora to go through the rocks and sees something red. It's Benny's barn. Off she goes, saying 'Happy Trails.' Just like some old man said back in the eighties. The one who feared the reds and wore cowboy boots. The one who made cruelty only a precursor to Alzheimer's. There have been two clones of him in the capital of the U.S.

You can throw away your cowboy boots!! Feed them to your pet dog. Endangered!! This country can't go down any further down these 'Happy Trails.'

Mt. Shasta and THE SISTERHOOD OF THE TRAVELLING PANTS 2

What I won't do for a thrill or because I'm bored. The Mt. Shasta trip was quite thrilling in that the drive to the mountain on the main highway was really a roller coaster ride around massive trucks. My palms were sweating. I think I was having a panic attack, but I had to keep driving. There were no turn-outs except those to get to different roads off the main track. What a relief it was to finally get there, close to darkness setting in.

It was difficult to see the mountain the second day because it was surrounded by smoke from all the fires that Northern California experienced all summer. But the presence of the mountain could most definitely be felt. When I meditated, I felt some energy in my solar plexus (the third chakra) that I hadn't felt before. The energy was empowering. I was so glad to receive it because I didn't sleep well any of the nights we were there. I wish I could remember those dreams I had, because I was very close to the waking state while sleeping.

We met someone who lived nearby who had lived in San Francisco for many years but had been up in Shasta for a couple of years. I think he moved with his girlfriend but now he was living alone. He was asking about the flyers we had put up around the town and the area of the house for a missing macaw. My friends' bird flew up twenty plus feet into a tree the first night we were there. We could hear him in the trees below the house but couldn't see him. Miraculously he flew back to the house the next day after we left. What a miracle. He was famished and ate for hours. He also was making sounds he hadn't made before: growling, hissing, etc.

At the movie theatre the other night there were a few people hissing--politely! There must have been about 20 of us in a huge theatre that holds 150 people. It was a Monday night. The film we came to see was THE SISTERHOOD...2. My friend was the one who wanted to see it. She saw the first one; I hadn't. Now I try to support films that feature women and their stories. There are far too many crime scenes and war films out there starring, of course, men.

THE SISTERHOOD...2 and the pants was a bit too far-fetched. Even the sister of one of the characters explained that she had always been kept out of the pants group...the old high school clique, as it were. I'm not saying that "sisterhood" is a bad thing, but it could be more inclusive. Perhaps women in a group (like, for example, THE JANE AUSTEN BOOK CLUB) could have more of a reason to become close and establish friendship beyond clothing-- like pants...blue jeans, for that matter.

More specifically, if a rich person gets into art school it's still kind of a joke. The life drawings done by one of the characters who is studying at Rhode Island School of Design were almost like stick figures. And the character who goes on an archeological dig has to be immature enough to go into the area where danger signs/no entrance are posted everywhere. And the filmmaker is getting information for working on her script by being somewhat punkish and dismissive to the customers. Maybe this film should be re-named THE SISTERHOOD OF THE TRAVELLING POSE.

The Unforgettable Tour led to Mt. Shasta

I really love Bollywood. Although I don't know alot about it, every film I've seen I have liked for some reason. The actors are not only remembering lines, they are dancing really well. Consequently the Bollywood actors who performed in Oakland at the Coliseum (now called Oracle?) danced and lip synched. I really don't know which of them sang at all.

Meanwhile, we got there early. That was cool. Indian television was there with their camera. I was really happy when they called me over to talk in front of the camera. I gave my name from Amma (Charuta) and then Jennifer Glee etc. I was such a crazed fool. I couldn't say Aishwarya Rai's name, said my favorite Bollywood actor is Zayed Khan, my favorite actress of the night Preity Zinta. I forgot the name of the major star of the show, Mr. Bachchan. Oh, and, of course, said I always wanted to dance in one of the Bollywood films.

The actual night was quite long--no intermissions! The show was over four hours. We were all riveted to the stage or the huge monitor in the middle. I should mention that the attempt to abate global warming was a major theme of the show. Mr. Bachchan's wife (a former Bollywood actress) came out and addressed the issue.

I can't help but be disturbed by the effects of global warming. I went to Mt. Shasta this week. It was shrouded in smoke. The fires in this area have been going on for 6 weeks now. How many wildlife have been killed and homes lost?

My friends live there. They just moved from the city recently. Their macaw flew away from his cage to a nearby cedar tree. Then he flew out of site the next morning. My friends were crushed. The Humane Society came out and looked around. We spent the day putting up flyers around. I got to see the town of Shasta. Every northern town (Arcata, Mendocino, Eureka, Klamath) in California I've been to where there are a lot of people into alternative health issues has a great health food store. The main one of in Shasta is quite small. In fact, the town itself is quite small. I thought it would be larger.

Before I left yesterday we meditated on the bird's return. My friend said that the bird was "working." Today they heard the large, loud cries of the macaw a distance away. They somehow called the bird and he flew to a nearby tree and eventually flew into his cage. He seemed different, they said. He was tired!

IN BRUGES and The Unforgettable Tour

There is a baby moth flying around the room. I like that about summer: new things having arrived. I had adopted a kitten sometime around the 7th and returned her on the 12th. I felt so bad about that. But she was adopted practically be the time I was about to leave. She had arrived. Summer sometimes means seeing a film I wouldn't otherwise see or a show that is transformational...

The other night I watched IN BRUGES. A British film, it has alot of oddities about it. I was wondering if it were a crafty farce about "hitmen." Colin Farrell plays a "hitman" with the most depth we're allowed to plummet besides his buddy. Is there some thing I'm missing about Bosch and Bruges having something to do with these characters? The Farrell character is supposed to be offed by his buddy in Bruges. I even forget how this film ends. Too much unnecessary violence in the old town of Bruges.

Meanwhile, I 'm looking forward to seeing The Unforgettable Tour. Bollywood!! The colors, the songs, the dance! I forgot: I need a screen with English translations of the songs, like watching a video. Too bad Zayed Khan will not be there. So many Bollywood actors are so fine and comical at the same time.... and great dancers! It's so funny: the show is going to be as LONG as many Bollywood films are--3 plus hours!

Planet Glee for this Friday.

I noticed that accessf doesn't give any information about my show in advance. Some of other call-in shows get a paragraph about the show before it airs.

Anyway, I'm sitting here at the computer planning to how clear it so that I can do some artwork, i.e., Flash. If you want to see three of my four pieces, go to jenniferglee.com I miss painting.

So, I'm sitting here listening to New Order. i don't what's making me think about the notion of love they sing about. I really think they were/are ahead of their time. Maybe it's the disco aspect. Maybe it's because Joy Division had to happen first.

This week I have been cleaning. I found a photo from about 2000 when I had a friendship with a university student (graduating) who lived in a cooperative place. I met him at a music event. He played bansuri. I went to one of their (eventual) nudie parties. It was fun. To begin we all sat in groups that moved around and we were supposed to ask each other a prosribed personal question.

MC Rai and Rachid Taha rock!

Today I saw these two bands at Stern Grove. My friend and I have been so lucky to have found such great seats in the grove lately. I could dance. It was fun. A couple of ladies took pictures of me. Why, I don't know. I wish some men would have taken pictures of me, but many of the single guys there either didn't appeal to me or something. There was one guy there who looked like my now ex-love. I observed this guy at the end. I couldn't keep my eyes off the singer of MC Rai. I had seen him sing back in 2001 or so at the Bernal Heights Neighborhood Fair held in October. He was really impressive then, I thought. His voice sailed a little differently than now. Anyway, I ended up going out with the keyboard player back then. He's not in the band any more. I didn't see anyone from the original band in today's version. That's ok, they rocked.

When Rachid Taha was one, I couldn't see the stage as well at times. So I looked over to this guy who looked like... Anyway, he tried to pick up this one dark-haired woman in her early thirties with a very tight sweater and large breasts. I don't know why this matters. It doesn't, really. Maybe I'm just missing connection. It is so fun being on a cloud with a lover and gliding along together. I miss that.

But let's not forget Rachid. He was fabuleux!!! They rocked hard. I left there wishing I could dance professionally for one of these two bands on stage...with a tabourine, maybe. Easier to daydream about that than love right now.

Cognition vs. Perception, or why I like Bollywood.

Bro Jud had me watch a lecture on Cognition vs. Perception the other day. The lecture was by Mr. Robinson of the Psychology Department of Georgetown University. The argument meandered from Piaget and the measuring of the contents of one beeker of liquid after it is poured into another beeker. Are the contents the same? So, physics was also involved here. Cognition is propositional, he stated; perception is not. I suppose one could define one thing by saying it is not the other and leave it at that.

Bollywood does it all the time. The subject at hand is always love. What is love and what isn't, and what sounds like love and what doesn't. I wish I could remember the name of the Bollywood film I watched the other night. Sharukh Khan stars as a high-ranking member of the Indian army who is sent to rescue a girl whose father is in the army somehow. This girl is in college. Shahrukh's character (Ram) is supposed to find his long-lost brother at this college. So he goes to the college and poses as a student. I liked the songs the best. And Zayed Khan who plays the younger brother is funny.

MY BLUEBERRY NIGHTS, fireworks, and LE GAI SAVOIR

I've heard Norah Jones sing in concert. Who taught her how to sing that way? She does sing quite sublimely. Her singing can be heard in her first film, MY BLUEBERRY NIGHTS by Chinese director WAI. Visually it is quite interesting at times. The camera blurs that which is magical: love.

MY BLUEBERRY NIGHTS is a love story. It is, however, a film in which the actual characters and their names seem to be disjointed. The characters are somewhat cardboardish except for Jeremy, Jude Law's Englishman who runs a cafe which has blueberry pie for beautiful young women who want to lose the keys to their boyfriend's apartments. It is, after all, New York City.

Nonetheless what I liked about MY BLUEBERRY NIGHTS was the fact that a beautiful girl such as Elizabeth (Jones) could be dumped by someone her age for a another type of girl her age. This does seem vapid but every woman who has ever seen love flail when it seemed to solid will understand. A cute, mature English guy is the answer to most of the problems of women of English language-dominated cultures.

But, if you speak French, a French guy will do. While people were setting off fireworks around me, I was watching Godard's LE GAI SAVOIR. Another piece of never-ending genius is this film. Brechtolian and yet a collage of images and sound, LE GAI SAVOIR is a play without a play within the lives of two players and history.

TWO DAYS IN PARIS, or how could a film on MOLIERE be so dull.

Many times I find myself attracted to films which have an actor or two that I like in it or the setting or time frame are appealing. Julie Delpy's TWO DAYS IN PARIS is really well done, in the end. She is able to give a glimpse into her world as an international citizen and as a woman who grew up (and probably lives sometimes) in Paris.

Her character is hard to take sometimes because she is rude to her American boyfriend, played by an actor I don't really know. He's good at being a doormat, however. And yet he is also assertive in a crudely manly way in that he insists on taking all the pictures during their vacation (they live in NYC) despite the fact that she is a photographer by trade. She also has a visual acuity condition that is only mentioned during a portrayal of the pre-pubescent Marion (Julie).

Meanwhile, her parents--in fact everyone who speaks French--talks about the boyfriend while he understands nothing. Ah, love. And there are a few cab rides in which the fascistic undertone of the underclass is shown. Julie's parents are bourgeois.

The end of the film is one many women who may have married early and then not by their forties may find hard to take. This film is not light on details.

Another film which one might say is overly detailed is the latest film on MOLIERE. I remember seeing a film called MOLIERE from France when I was in graduate school. It was very different from this one. This one is like walking through the kennels of the animal shelter and never finding the way out until you just have to scream. Enough said.

The Mind of Mencia, the mind of fascism, or the lack of a mind.

Usually I don't watch the Comedy Channel on cable. It is a fascist arm of the Republican government. It is responsible for Bush's continued flailings in office.

Tonight I watched 8 minutes of the comedy show The Mind of Mencia. I think this show should be renamed The Mind of Fascism, or how to show you have no mind at all. The scenario shown which so offended me this time contained an actor portraying The Dalai Lama and another actor portraying (someone I would not know the name of if I didn't watch some television) John McCain. Giving any attention to the Republican candidate indicates that the entire US media is backing this elderly person.

It would be easier to watch any of the American mainstream media if one didn't have a mind of at all. Fascism fills in the void.

BROKE BACK MOUNTAIN, a broken heart, and a black cat.

It has been some time that I haven't wanted to see the film BROKE BACK MOUNTAIN. My friends had rented it this evening, and I actually did want to see it although I have been mostly bedridden these past couple of days. The film started with panning vistas and point-of-view shots from the main characters who barely spoke for the first 20 minutes or so. This is where I stopped watching and had to go. I will watch this film--really watch it.

The initial sexual tension of BROKE BACK left much to be desired for my broken heart. Yes, my lover of two and a half months are at an impasse. Perhaps this is why my lungs have been thrashed with this bronchitis I've had. Thankfully, the actual pain in my heart smothers the inner sea its own outpourings. (I was supposed to see the play "Tis Pity She's a Whore' this past Sunday.

I want to make black cats my somewhere on my body or in film or paint. They are great healers. Buddie Vacant took care of me this weekend. He's otherwise known as Punk Chunky.

Planet Glee, JUNO, and BLAME IT ON FIDEL

Last Friday I had some fun--not enough--singing. Yes, I sing. My way. It's pretty off sometimes but then it's pleasant. Pleasant pheasant. That's my voice...a pheasant. My voice is like Planet Glee. Out there.

So, on Friday night I sang with my guest, Jack from the Bargain Basement Band. I played and sang with him and his wife (the second member of the Bargain Basement Band duo) on the Bro Jud on Love Energy Show. He has always wanted me to sing the song by Martha and the Vandellas, "Heatwave." What I didn't know was that he wanted to sing with me on it. I was prepared to sing my version of "Heatwave," but I couldn't. That doesn't meant that it wasn't possible to make some fun out of myself on the show.

I had some fun watching the film JUNO. The acting was really good. It was ironic that the two "famous" actors in the film played the yuppie couple who could rock. Yes, the film is stupid, too. I just really like the expression "...you're having a food baby."

There was a baby at the decentric center of the French film BLAME IT ON FIDEL. The child is supposed to carry the film. I was thinking that maybe French children are so intelligent that this film might be one a 9-year-old might watch. For adults, it was a bit light...sharing, community, etc. I wish Fidel could be blamed for a successful attempt at civil rearrangement that the child's parents are trying to achieve in Allende's Chile. Viva Sandinista.

Spending the first day with Amma.

Amma was there at the ashram today. She walked in and smiled at everyone. There was a 9 minute meditation, and then Amma began darshan.

I love to watch Amma give darshan. I wonder how I would feel if I sat and watched Amma give darshan for the duration of the 4 hours I spent at the ashram today. There is no speculation on this one to be had from me at this time.

Speaking to other people about Vedic astrology, herbs, healing, and about Amma while Amma was giving darshan was enough.

Today was a sultry day and welcome to those of us who live in San Francisco. The respite from incessant winds was uncommon.

I am listening to J. Mascis' cd J sing for Amma. My favorite song is Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu. It tranlates to "may all the beings in all the worlds be happy."

We chanted on Planet Glee

I'm still going down to Market and Valencia on Friday nights to be the hostess twinkie on Planet Glee. Sometimes I am a complete airhead on the show, but humor always rules in the end.

Lately, I have had some writers on the show. Usually the show ROCKS (I saw rocks on Mars in a book at UCSF library one time). Planet Glee is close to Jupiter and wants to join Venus and the rest of the benevolents in a modern dance. No, not necessarily Martha Graham or Alonzo King, but having much in common with them.

That said I have to get to the point of this blog: chanting...chanting a Tibetan mantra...om mani padme om. My guest, Margarita Wildman, had just read another one of her poems that is spiritual from the core of human sufferinng and experience. This woman should write an autobiography I want to read it.

Meanwhile, I've mentioned the book by Sakyong Mipham, RULING YOUR WORLD in the blog before. Actually, just in case a guest doesn't show, I'm ready to do the show by myself. I always bring the Mipham book. There is a book on Tantra by Georg Feuerstein that I also read at the same time last fall when I first read Mipham. Compassion and love are so enigmatic and amorphous yet so truly felt when expressed. Discipline has much to do with cultivating a life predispositioned to love and compassion.

THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR by Gogol

About seven years ago I found the novel DEAD SOULS by Nikolai Gogol at a garage sale. I paid one dollar for it. This is perhaps one of my favorite works of literature, even though I've had to read it in translation. Gogol is one of the funniest, wittiest, beautiful storytellers I've read.

San Francisco's A.C.T. was putting one of Gogol's plays on this week. I have read this play which is called THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR. The title sounds droll, I think. But the play is as political as it is funny. From the program notes, it is mentioned that Gogol consulted with Pushkin on the storyline. Nonetheless, the play is, Gogol.

There is a huge ray of light on the characters in the first scene of the play. They are being revealed as bumbly among this brightness, running into each other as they enter the rook that has skewed walls, windows and staircases. The huge grey table in the middle of the state is mocking stage or platform for the politicians of the town and the person they are told might be the Government Inspector who--they had been warned--would investigate their town.

How Gogol becomes a great writer, to me, is his way of drawing links between the players in the play and the play itself. The play would not exist without the players. Gogol draws attention to this connection between the power structure within the play and its concomitant, mundane, "civil" component.

THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY and THE MOTHER AND THE WHORE

Yesterday I saw THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY and was really moved by it. The initial scenes were hard for me to watch because they are so blurry even though it was clear that the camera was the "eye" of the man who had had a major stroke and was waking up out of a coma. The film was based on a book written by the person who had experienced all this challenge in becoming paralyzed and completely dependent.

The acting, like in all French films, was superb. I love the casting that is done in France. Good acting is much more important than great make-up jobs. Max von Sydow did look extremely handsome and overall, I would say I went to see this film primarily for the visuals. I knew there would have to be many dream sequences and some surreal staging and moments.

I never disliked Julian Schnabel's paintings. I suppose one reaches a limit with painting "greatly" like he had done in the past. Using a new medium and twisting many camera angles, Schnabel demonstrated that painting and drawing are the mothers of the arts.

Speaking of mothers, I saw THE MOTHER AND THE WHORE this past week, having rented it from the video store. (It was on VHS--I don't have a dvd player.) This is a French film as well. It doesn't hurt that I adore Jean-Pierre Leaud (I don't think I've commented on the film he did with Catherine Breillat). This film was 4 hours long. I watched it over three evenings. Actually, I watched Part 11 first and then Part !. So I already knew how the film was to "end." I couldn't say anything that would really convey how brilliant this film is.

Both the DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY and THE MOTHER AND THE WHORE beg the viewer for answers. The answers have to do with questions of love, superficiality, spirituality and the abstraction of the ego.

Trying to consider nested cycles and yoga.

My flash animation class requires alot more time than I had thought it would. There are some concepts I don't grasp yet, like the nested cycle. We are doing buttons right now, and I'm thinking that the button is like a nested cycle. This shows how much I know about Flash.

But, actually, I'm looking forward in this next interactivity project to do something that relates to my own work. I have some video shot over two years ago that I want to use with the character in my project. They are both black cats. I know it is "cute' to do cats, but actually, I think some cats are very funny.

Meanwhile, I should be doing some yoga.

Holland and St. Patrick's Day

St. Patrick's Day parade in Dublin, Ireland part of a five-day festival; over 500,000 people attended the 2006 parade. The largest St. Patrick's Day parade is held in New York City and it is watched by over 2 million spectators. The St. Patrick's Day parade was first held in Boston in 1761, organized by the Charitable Irish Society. New York's celebration began on 18 March 1762 when Irish soldiers in the British army marched through the city.[citation needed] The predominantly French-speaking Canadian city of Montréal, in the province of Québec has the longest continually running Saint Patrick's day parade in North America, since 1824.[4] The city's flag has the Irish emblem, the shamrock, in one of its corners. Ireland's cities all hold their own parades and festivals. These cities include Dublin, Cork, Belfast, Derry, Galway, Kilkenny, Limerick, and Waterford. Parades also take place in other Irish towns and villages.
--Wikipedia

I was eating at a restaurant in which one of my friends works, and a couple under 65 sat at the table next to me. The language they were speaking sounded familiar to me, but as I have noticed about many European visitors to San Francisco, in public, they speak very softly. About ten minutes past, and my friend came over just as I asked the couple, "Spreek je Nederlans (sp)? It turns out that they did, and we started talking about how much I love Holland and how I lived in Groningen for a while and etc.

Eventually I told them that I have an E.U. passport given to me by the country of Eire, or Ireland. So, they had just been to the St. Patrick's Day Parade in San Francisco today. Now, they asked me, since you're Irish, can you tell just who is Saint Patrick?

I am such a complete space. When I was at the university, I almost studied Gaelic. But today I couldn't remember who St. Patrick "was." I told them some b.s. and got St. Patrick mixed up with--I think it is--Saint George...and I've been studying Hinduism and Buddhism and have forgotten alot about Christianity.

There must be common knowledge to every culture, I suppose. I'll remember who Bobby Sands was before I'll be able to tell anyone about why San Francisco and other other cities have parades for Saint Patrick of Ireland.

I told them I thought the holiday was just another commercial one for the U.S. They agreed, and then they said that Irish dancing is commercial. I'm not sure I agree with that. Dance is a form of art that transcends commercialism. The Dutch are well-known for their incredible painters: Van Gogh, Rembrandt, de Kooning. The Irish are well-known for their contributions to music and performance. I just told them, " Ireland doesn't have much of an economy." and they said it was--to them--a place that was still backward. No wonder I couldn't remember who St. Patrick is supposed to be.

Planet Glee rocked again.

I have so much fun when there's a musical guest on the show. So far, the musicians who have been on are new and raw. Last night's guest was a total trip. He calls himself "The Father J. O'Brien." I asked him where the "father" came from. He said it had to do with a group of friends in San Diego, and then he blurted what he was called before and it had some usually-unheard-on-tv words in it. We were on Planet Glee again.

The Father J. O'Brien is in his mid-twenties sings with the wisdom of someone with more life experience. An old soul with an incredible voice (deep like Tom Waits but also with something else--something a J. Mascis voice of inner knowledge and common sense.

We had fun jamming, too. And, we got two callers!! The second caller invited Father J. O'Brien to play at her party on Page Street tonight. She also said that "Miss Planet Glee" could join him on tabla. I thought it was funny and really great.