Archive for the ‘By OSWALD’ Category
Why Hart doesn’t let me post enough is cause he’s retarded, slow and rots his brain listening to old Genesis records instead of digging into what’s truly wicked awesome about this world of his. So, since he’s forgotten, a small list of shit we’ve been digging here at CHEZ OSWALD.
- Ludwig Bemelman’s book re-released But try to find THE BEST OF TIMES, which Hart and Corman bought for Matt Madden for his birthday.
- Dog Day Afternoon ROCKED. Nora made me watch it. I didn’t want to see another goddamn show about New York City in the 70s. Boo-hoo big deal it’s not how it was in the good old mosquito-ridden, trash strike days. But it’s a brilliant movie.
- I’m convinced Deadwood is the best show ever on TV. Hutch wants me to add “next to MASH” but he’s a sap who’s at this moment rocking out to Genesis and drinking old cheap wine. Doesn’t take much to make a dude from the sticks happy.
- I didn’t go to the Goya show at the FRICK though I TRIED TWICE YOU FUCKERS!! Next time you have a goddamn GOYA SHOW don’t have it in some jackass’s basement bachelor pad. Well now it’s over and I’ll have to track them all down in Spain or something.
- Enjoying Nathan Englander’s bookthough I don’t see it is the masterpiece everyone else did. I enjoyed SIGHTSEEING by Rattawut Lapcharoensap easily as much.
- How about drawings of horses by Jacques Callot
- OR DAUMIER?!
- Hart wants me to mention Sergio Toppi whom he was told about by Walt Simonson. Toppi is a master of value, supposedly. As if Hart knows anything except moving ink around with his feet, it seems like.
Recent great line from Nora: “Is it written in the BIBLE that I missed somehwere that it’s your sacred DUTY to BUG THE SHIT OUT OF PEOPLE?!”
Ok peace out.
Hart’s blowing this. So I will do it. I will tell my memoirs. And do what bloggers do best, that is, tell their opinions on shit. And oh- do I have opinions. For god’s sake. This whole ball of wax ain’t spitting me off it until I get to dip my toe into damn every sector and sect I can. SOMETIMES I AM CONFRONTED BY THE WHOLE SCORE! And Hutch can’t take it. SOMETIMES I LIKE TO GET IN BEHIND THE CURTAIN- backstage pass, free mussles and clam and booze and hotel rooms you can expense, and wine and cigars, and what- you gonna miss that? You gonna miss out on that cause you are so freakin CONCERNED that the rest of the world isn’t enjoying itself? You gonna worry the whole time that the world is so sad, so broken, so unable to enjoy the fruits of the west? Tough tacos!
Listen- I’ve been to 14 countries and I’ve dragged H to 3 or 4. My grandmother left me a trust to hang on to- to do this, to keep me thriving. You gonna waste that? You can whine that the world needs help- yes, Hutch – you and Bono can go traipsing around. He can’t get what he wants, what can a bum like you do?
Listen- there are places in the world that are so magnificent, there are people so glowingly odd or beautiful, there are thousands upon thousands of miles of the strangest, interesting stuff -more than you can conceive of, Hutchatio, you nitwit.
I ain’t screaming, I’m blogging baby. And I’ll tell you every damn time who is wonderful, what rocks, what this goddamn world is made of.