From the album “One To One” (1986)

Written by Howard Jones

Cantonese version: 陳百強 - 愛的傷痕

Ride the wild one cowboy in the rodeo
Love like crazy Juliet and Romeo
Living only to consume
Bruising hearts collecting gloom
Seems no place to hide away
From the hammer and caress
Dress with passion
Fashion for the parking lot
Make some action
Pushing time out of the clock
Take away identity
Parcel up what’s left of me
Water down the youthful drop
Call the sane insanity

All I want is to live with you
All I want is to cry with you

Dance ’til sunrise
Reggae ’til the cows come home
Fight the bigot
Champion you’re not alone
I can sort of work things out
Juggling the fear and doubt
Even when it’s watertight
In the end I have to say

I can sort of work things out
Juggling the fear and doubt
Even when it’s watertight
In the end I have to say I have to say

Ride the wild one cowboy in the rodeo
Love like crazy Juliet and Romeo

COMPLEX BEAUTY

by Paul Bishop — 1986

I reclined horizontally on the breast of the earth,
Listening to the tintinnabulations of chimes from the nearby religious institution.
Condensed water vapor floated across the vast expense of sky.
Winged creatures propagated themselves across the void by the forward propulsion of a self-produced transverse wave.
Windjammers careened over the surface of the salinated body of water.
Their colorful sails billowed out like arced spectra.
All omnipresent around me…
What am I saying? It’s just a beautiful day.

SIMPLE BEAUTY

by Paul Bishop — 1986

I lay on the ground listening to nearby church bells.
Clouds floated across the big sky.
Birds soar through the blue, flapping their wings.
Windsurfers rode the waves of the ocean.
Their colorful sails billowed out like rainbows.
Beautiful images all around  me…
What am I saying? It’s just a beautiful day.

THOUGHTS ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY

by Paul Bishop — March 9, 1986

I watched the sunset clouds float by
In the dusk of the evening sky
Lying on my back in the cool green grass
I watched the sun turn from gold to brass

I ran to the summit of a nearby hill
To see the sun as it lowered still
The clouds hung in the great blue space
Changing color with beauty and grace

The sun sank low, the darkness deepened
The wind began to blow, the shadows steepened
Stars peeked through the spacious cover
The moon broke out to entice the lover

The hours passed as I did think
The moon had now begun to sink
Soon the sun returned for another day
Rising out of the water in the bay

It tinted the water and brightened the sky
The stars disappeared and the sun soared high
I felt the warmth upon my face
And thought, as the sun its path did trace

OF WARM AND RAINY NIGHTS

by Paul Bishop — March 1986

Have you ever walked on a summer night
When a warm rain was falling light
A clouded moon that seemed so bright
With no wind to chill nor cold to bite

From neighbors’ houses, small lights glow
Some are radiant, some turned low
Raindrops glistening as they pass through the flow
While I walk on the road quite slow

The water drops from leaves on a birch
To find the ground, its unending search
All is quiet as if in a church
Not a bird sings from its perch

When the mists around me weave
I am sad for I must take my leave
Glad for the air that I could breathe
Of my presence, I Nature bereave

At my home my walk must end
My wish is that God would send
A person willing to be my friend
On rainy nights, down the road to wend

RUDE ‘AWAKENING’

by Paul Bishop — March 11, 1986

I sit alone, enshrouded by fog
My eyesight is dim
I sit in an eternally anechoic chamber
I can hear but I have made no sound
I move my lips, no noise comes out
A light shines out. I can see!

Walking down a long tunnel, I hear my feet clank on a strange floor
My speech is now garbled beyond the realm of intelligibility
But I can understand myself
The light engulfs me
Pain, electric shock, voices I recognize telling me to go back

I run
Down the tunnel, down, down, down
I stumble, fall, black out
I wake up, blank faces stare at me
Am I crazy?
The faces leave
I touch my wrist… stitches!!

Why did they save me?
I don’t deserve to live!
I unhook my IV and lay back to die
I walk toward the light again

I know what’s behind the light
But I can’t return
My dream is fulfilled, but I live not to tell
It is more depressing than life
Life is better
But it’s too late now

Cast : Mithun Chakraborty, Dharmendra, Utpal Dutt, Ram Mohan, Ravi Baswani, Rakesh Bedi, Rita Bhaduri, Raza Murad, Suresh Oberoi, Tej Sapru, Satish Shah, Meenakshi Sheshadri

Director : Mukul Anand

Watch Here

05. september 1986

14. årgang

De udtryk og betegnelser man umiddelbart har lyst til at anvende ved denne konstatering, egner sig absolut ikke til at blive trykt i FREMSKRIDT. Men mon ikke læserne selv finder nogle passende gloser.

Man skulle næsten tro, at regeringspartierne hemmeligt får udbetalt dividende eller bonus af omsætningen syd for den dansk-vesttyske grænse.

Påskepakkens afgiftsforhøjelser, med bl.a. dyrere benzin-, diesel og fyringsolie medførte stribevis af butikslukninger og massefyringer på den danske side af grænsen. De vanvittigt høje priser har bevirket at kunderne foretager deres indkøb i udlandet. Dette er en af grundene til Danmarks enorme underskud på handelsbalancen, og dermed spiller regeringspartierne og de radikale igen narrens rolle, idet de påstod, at afgifterne skulle forhøjes for at forbedre handelsbalancen.

Hvor alvorligt mente man disse udtalelser?

Er de f.eks. ensbetydende med, at regeringspartiernes sønderjyske folketingsmedlemmer vil stemme imod nye afgiftsforhøjelser? Eller agter man – som sidst – at være glødende tilhængere i København, og det modsatte når valgkredsen skal informeres – eller vildledes?

Ja, jeg spørger bare. Svarerne bliver særdeles interessante – om de nogensinde måtte komme.

WWW.FRP.DK

18. april 1986

14. årgang

Ingen forskel

Bemærk sætningen”…og da vi jo ikke kan røre indkomstpolitik eller statslige udgifter…”! Det er firkløverpolitik i en nøddeskal og en mindst lige så velkendt og fortærsket “traver fra Anker Jørgensens storhedstid”, som forhøjelse af skatter og afgifter.

Det er ikke til at få øje på nogen forskel.

WWW.FRP.DK

Må citeres med fuld kildeangivelse:

Fremskridt nr. 15

25. april 1986

14. årgang

Et stadigt stigende antal henvendelser til Fremskridtspartiets folketingsgruppe har følgende indhold: “Kan Fremskridtspartiet dog ikke på en eller anden måde få regeringen (V, C, CD og KrF, red.) til at ændre politik? Og samtidig forklare Uffe Ellemann-Jensen (V) og Poul Schlüter (C), at de vælgere, der ved sidste valg stemte på et af regeringspartierne, absolut ikke mente, at regeringen blot skulle sidde med armene over kors og fortsætte den skatte- og gældsætningspolitik, Socialdemokratiet har været hovedansvarlig for i mange år”.

Spørgsmål af den karakter giver et fingerpeg om, at virkelig mange efterhånden har fundet ud af sandheden, nemlig den, at vel bruger regeringspartierne og Socialdemokratiet mange gnubbede ord mod hinanden, men i realiteten er det stort set de samme love og bekendtgørelser, der vedtages og udstedes i dag, som det var tidligere.

Laden-stå-til-politik

Resultaterne, eller rettere manglen på resultater, af denne laden-stå-til-politik, udebliver naturligvis heller ikke. Kun de mest blåøjede tror vel efterhånden på, at dansk økonomi er bedre nu, end den var tidligere. Ganske vist er der udefra kommet et internationalt opsving med rentefald, lavere inflation, billigere olie og faldende dollarkurs, som absolut har været til dansk fordel, og derfor bør hilses velkomment. Nationalt og sammenlignet med udenlandske konkurrenter går det imidlertid fortsat sin skæve gang. Gælden til udlandet er blevet fordoblet, siden den nuværende regering tiltrådte. Skatter og afgifter har fået et ordentligt tryk opad i samme periode. Og hvad også alvorligt er: Mister dansk eksportindustri markedsandele i udlandet.

Ud fra erkendelsen af, at firkløverregeringen gik i stå den dag Fremskridtspartiet ikke længere udgjorde det nødvendige parlamentariske flertal, og således blev afskåret fra at trække regeringen i den nødvendige retning, er det forståeligt, at mange nu bittert fortryder, at de ved sidste valg lod sig overtale af regeringspartiernes flotte valgløfter.

Det værste

Indrømmes skal det da gerne, at også Fremskridtspartiet begik fejltagelser, og dermed gjorde det sværere for vælgerne at træffe den rigtige beslutning.

Nu skal og bør tilslutningen til Fremskridtspartiet imidlertid hurtigst muligt forøges. Ikke nok med at regeringen savner mod til besparelser i den offentlige sektor. Finansministeren (Palle Simonsen, C, red.) har tilmed lovet store lønstigninger til alle offentligt ansatte.

Det værste af det hele er dog, at de aftaler, der indgik mellem regeringspartierne, Det radikale Venstre og Socialdemokratiet, baster og binder partierne sammen i mange år. Det gælder f.eks. skattereformen, hybridnettet, miljøloven og TV2.

Helge Dohrmann, MF

Escandinávia revela valores da música há mais de 40 anos

As geladas terras da Escandinávia reservaram para os mais ecléticos, ao longo das últimas quatro décadas, uma lacuna respeitável da efervescência musical do planeta. Os vikings da música tiveram a capacidade de desbravar diversos gêneros musicais e agradar a gregos e troianos.

A islandesa Björk é a rainha dos videoclipes excêntricos

Da exótica Islândia, brotaria, no final da década de 80, a rainha dos clipes experimentais Björk, com seu ‘pop eletrônico’ alternativo. Na mesma época em que ela surgia com a banda Sugarcubes, os noruegueses do A-Ha já faziam um sucesso estrondoso, com seu pop regado à mistura entre a rústica guitarra e o clássico piano. O sabor potente da bateria dos rockeiros do Metallica já contava com o tato apurado do dinamarquês Lars Ulrich. Alguns anos depois, já no século XXI, a Finlândia deu as caras com o heavy metal nórdico do Nightwish.

No entanto, a maior contribuição escandinava para a música pode ser atribuída à Suécia. O romantismo do Abba conquistou jovens de todo o mundo nos anos 60 e 70. No começo da última década do século, a voz estridente e o cabelo louro, curto e arrepiado de Marie Frederiksson, vocalista do Roxette, ganharam espaço no universo pop. Os anos 90 ainda revelaram outras duas bandas suecas menos expressivas, e também com vocalistas mulheres: Ace of Base e The Cardigans.

A banda sueca Europe é um ícone brega da década de 80. Destaque para o vocalista Joey Tempest (com madeixas reluzentes, ao centro)

O país mais tradicional da Escandinávia não poderia passar despercebido pela década do brega, os anos 80. Aliás, os suecos passaram com ‘autoridade’, atolaram o pé na jaca! Elevaram o nome do continente europeu ao topo da pieguice universal, literalmente. Liderado pelo lendário vocalista Joey Tempest, o ‘Ovelha da Suécia’, o Europe foi um dos principais ícones do gênero que ficou conhecido como hard rock melódico, entoado por um bando de marmanjos metaleiros que usavam cabelos e roupas de gosto… Digamos… ‘Duvidoso’.

O Europe e o hard rock melódico foram praticamente engolidos no final da década por bandas como Guns n’Roses, U2 e INXS. Mas a banda do intempestivo ‘Ovelha da Suécia’ ficou marcada principalmente pelo álbum The Final Countdown, de 1986. A faixa título alcançou o primeiro lugar das paradas em ‘nada mais, nada menos’ que 26 países.

Mas, no meio de alguns sucessos, resolvemos mostrar a você a canção Carrie, símbolo-mor da pieguice do Europe, em versão legendada. No clipe, Joey Tempest impressiona pela performance exagerada, em que quase chora para expressar os detalhes do término do relacionamento com a musa loura do telão…Diversão garantida!

Last night, a man told me I was beautiful in the bathroom.

Re-reading that sentence, and my poor grammar, made me think of Clue (one of my favorite movies of all time. Jesse Trivia Point numero ichi)

Ms. White: He was deranged! He had threatened to kill me in public.

Ms. Scarlet: Why would he want to kill you in public?

Wadsworth: I think she meant: He threatened, in public, to kill her.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decree.

Don’t ask me why I just typed that. I simply Do Not Know.

What? Oh right. Clue.

I love clue, people. I could watch it every day of my life and be perfectly content. One plus two plus two plus one. Communism is just a red herring. Let us in let us in! LET US OUT! LET US OUT!!!

Heee…lettuce.

I just now realized that I thought of Kubla Khan because of Madeline Khan, who played Ms.White in Clue.

My life revolves around six degrees and bacon. But not Kevin Bacon…just bacon.

Work right now? No thank you.

Brain? On a milk carton somewhere.

So, while reading my comments from my last post, I skimmed through the actual entry and The Giver popped out at me. It’s been about two years since I’ve read it. I’ve read it about six times (I do this with books. Books are like Clue. They don’t get old.) and I thought “I should read that again, I enjoyed that book”

Since I don’t have the book with me at work (and that would be a little TOO blatant, even for me) I looked it up on Wikipedia.

Apparently, it has been listed and referred to as “science fiction,” because people have been “genetically altered” and there’s “telepathy”

Now…I suppose all this is true. I guess it could be considered Science Fiction…but…I don’t know. That just doesn’t seem right to me. I never thought of the transferring of memories to be telepathy…I didn’t think the people were really genetically altered. The argument was because the people in the village couldn’t see color, but Jonas could.

I guess, the way I interpreted it, I didn’t really think that people were color blind, just that color didn’t matter so much. As for the telepathy…I understand that I can’t put my hand on you and make you ‘remember’ sledding down a hill and grossly breaking your leg…but the nature of it just didn’t strike me as THAT fantastical.

Maybe I’m over analyzing. Maybe it really is just a simple science fiction tale. Damn you Lois Lowry! How dare you confuse me?!?

Ahem.

So, made it to work today a whole FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLY! Go me!

…I may or may not have spent my first forty five minutes here talking to The Receptionist, and forgetting that I had to pee.

We may have also made fun of Ewam a lot.

I know I know I KNOW it’s shallow and petty…but he’s just such an easy target. What, with that dangly earring, bad hair, and ridiculously huge jacket with the fur lined hood.

I’m so way cuter.

And smarter.

A quote, from an email he sent to the full staff  earlier today:

“You will now find each hospital has a folder and inside of it is all the years (like 2005, 2006, 2007, and so on) and inside those you will find the months and then the days, very easy… If you have questions please feel free to ask me and I will answer as best I can…”

 Um…ok.

1.)     Do we not know what years are? Hmmmm?

2.)     Do you not like punctuation? Hmmmm?

3.)     Why do I keep going hmmmm?

4.)     I blame you.

5.)     Do you realize the entire email could have been shortened to “I’ve filed the ____ by date?”?

6.)     Take out the dangly earring.

Since I feel like being mean, and petty, and shallow, here are a few more examples of why I never should have dated him:

I wanted to get some of my CDs from his car, after we broke up. His work emailed response:

“No offense but your not going in my car, and I do not have all of my CD’s here meaning they are not in my car and they are not at my place I have stored everything I could so I will need to drive to Dorr just to get a couple CD’s because you did not plan ahead is not my problem, I’m sorry. I will get you the CD’s but I will not be able to get them until sometime next week, I am really sorry but if you would have told me sooner this could have been avoided. I wish there was something I could do sooner…”

I…can’t even begin. If you don’t find this as funny as it truly is, try reading it out loud with the given punctuation.

Here’s another one. He offered to take me out to dinner (which I did end up doing…out of pity) we were trying to figure out where to go:

“Well here is an idea; we can drive together or meet at one of the two places, or we can go home change and meet at one of our places and go from there, or we can drive separately to the Hop Cat and if we don’t like it we can drive separate to the Black Rose….”

I would first like to point out…that was not an idea, that is every possible option. Succinct. Oh, and please note…the Hope Cat and the Black Rose are only two blocks away from each other. We would not have to drive. Let alone separately.

This last one…whoo boy. Ok, so. He had asked me if I was having a good Friday. I responded with “eh, it’s alright. It would better if I wasn’t dragging from my rampant insomnia…”

This was his reply. And this? This…is NOT a fucking joke:

“THAT BITES SORRY… I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL, LOTS OF ORANGE JUCIE TO KEEP UP THE IMMUNE SYSTEM, YOU DON’T WANT TO COME DOWN WITH THE FLUE…. ANYHOO, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF….”

…seriously. Not a joke. All of these have been directly copied and pasted from my email. The Receptionist can vouch for me.

Come down with the “flue”? I’m pretty sure you don’t come down with the flue. I’m pretty sure you open the flue, when you have a fire, so all the smoke doesn’t get trapped in your house.

….Ewam just emailed me about what I’m doing for lunch.

The Receptionist will appreciate this post. Two main reasons:

1.)     She has received all of these quotations previously. As soon as EWAM says something stupid, I immediately forward it to her.

2.)     I have mentioned her in this blog, and that makes her happy.

And now I’m gonna go eat.

Ozzy Osbourne an his band at their best, 1989 Moscow. fantastic solo an drum work, specially towards the latter part of this song where  Zakk Wylde even plays guitar with his teeth!!! unreal stuff.. good performance by any musical standards! This song is Heavy rock/metal.

“Shot in the Dark” is a song from Ozzy Osbourne’s 1986 album ‘The Ultimate Sin’
and was written by then Ozzy band bassist Phil Soussan. The song was inspired by the movie ‘Prizzi’s Honor’

(1912-1989) Militar de carrera e historiador, Király combatió en la Segunda Guerra Mundial y al finalizar esta se integró en el Ejército Popular húngaro, en donde alcanzó el grado de teniente general y fue miembro de Estado Mayor. En 1951 cayó en desgracia y, acusado injustamente, fue procesado y condenado a muerte, pena que se le conmutó por la de cadena perpetua. En 1956 quedó en libertad. En el levantamiento popular de otoño de 1956 se sumó a los insurrectos y fue comandante de las fuerzas armadas de Budapest y de la Milicia Nacional. Con la derrota de la insurrección se exilió en los Estados Unidos y entre 1968 y 1982 fue profesor universitario en diferentes centros superiores estadounidenses. En 1989 regresó a Hungría. Entre sus publicaciones destaca, por sus aportaciones autobiográficas y documentales, especialmente significativas en el caso del levantamiento de octubre y noviembre de 1956, el libro Honvédségböl néphadsereg (Del Ejército Nacional Húngaro al Ejército Popular), Budapest, Co-Nexus, 1986.

This series of shows took place over the top of the south island and the west coast during Jan 1986 and involved a decrepit and terrifyingly brakeless commer van, copious quantities of opium tarbrew and ether …

Nux Vomica and the Axemen on tour together …Were we all in the one van? I cant exactly recall .. Nux Vom at that time was Lawrence Lens guitar and vox (also demented super8 documentarian of the Axemen phenomenon), myself (intrepid sole female chauffeur and yamaha electone player) Philip Alron Hubbard on bass and Chris Smallfry on drums and that guy Pete [Gorman] from EOE on 2nd guitar .. and Mr Al Right sax player extraordinaire .. And the Axemen Steve, Bob, Stu and Gordy B and Mr Al Right sharing sax duties with both bands … plus a PA and all the gear for both bands . All squashed into one not very big van …We played to approx 8 drunken bogans in Richmond after we werent allowed to play in the public bar as arranged …. We played in Takaka after a horrifying ordeal involving brake failure coming down the Takaka Hill ( thanks Dad for that driving lesson that included the stuff about handbrakes and low gears when experiencing braking issues) . In Takaka the hotel owners missus asked me “Are you doing some dry cleaning dear?” when she ventured upstairs to tell us that our dinner was ready and the scent of ether was wafting out from several of the rooms some of us were staying in. “Yes Ma’am” I remember replying , “I’m just cleaning the boys’ jackets for tonight’s gig.”

We played in Greymouth which was a blast and the aftermatch function was even better.

— LISA PRESTON

What was involved was no 'birth' but 'amputation'. (Tan v Commission on Elections, 142 SCRA 727, 747)

In 1986 Stu Kawowski succumbed to the magnetic attraction of “The North.” At first he thought it was the Wellington effect, so he ventured up there for a few months, and moved in with The Skeptics for a while, first at Nick’s pad in Brooklyn, and later crashed at Writhe Recording, their studio cnr Walter & Vivian Sts. About a block away was an upstairs flat at the end of (and simply known as) “Kensington Street.” Here could be found the talented Walker sisters, Jane & Jessica, Tracey Walsh, and some other guys, all of whom had been in bands, were in bands or hung out with bands. Jane had been in Toy Love, Tracey had a band called The Yellimin, and Jessica had been in a band called Shoes This High.

Shoes This High (Dec 1980) Back L to R: Brent Hayward, Chris Plummer. Front L to R: Kevin Hawkins, Jessica Walker (pic Peter Avery)

Flashback #1 to sometime around 1980/1981:

Kawowski was still a “band virgin” (unless you count his several years snare drumming for the Marlborough Boys’ College and Blenheim Municipal Brass Bands… hmmm I thought not) but he was into some cool music at that time: Can, The Fall, Pere Ubu, Joy Division, Swell Maps, Capt. Beefheart… So not long after, when he found himself wandering around Wellington in the Willis St area, he somehow recognised a beautiful distorted, energetic sound bouncing off the walls of the empty twilight city. After walking around a few corners he finally discovered its origin: There, in a dimly lit, near empty hall, were four skinny musicians frantically rehearsing some amazing music on stage. None of them objected to his presence, so he was able to stay and enjoy a private audience with one of New Zealand’s best bands of that era, Shoes This High.

Shoes This High - STH (1981) 7" 4-track EP (STH 001-A, STH 001-B)

1. the nose one

2. Foot’s Dream

3. a mess

4. Not Weighting

Five years later, Kawowski was visiting Kensington St, he entered the house, was walking down the hall when suddenly a knife came whistling out of a side door a few metres ahead “THUNK!” and stuck into a life-size silhouette of a person painted on the wooden wall. “DONK!”, “WHAM!”, “THUNK!” as three more throwing knives landed in the figure’s heart, followed by “DING” as a Kung-Fu star split its forehead between the eyes. Satisfied that the barrage of sharpened circus cutlery was depleted, Kawowski bravely entered that door and came face-to-face with the martial arts expert: Jessica Walker, Shoes This High bass player.

In 1987, the Axemen convinced Flying Nun Records to do a second album. They cut a deal with The Skeptics, that allowed them to take advantage of their newly built 16-track studio Writhe Recording, the outcome being ”Derry Legend”, the follow-up to their debut double vinyl “Three Virgins” (1985). The Axemen had already released several cassette albums on their own Sleek Bott label,  but those vinyl releases effectively enjoyed the Flying Nun ’stamp of approval’ in addition to their international marketing and distribution network. 

 ”Mourning of Youth” (1987) - AXEMEN

For McCabe’s “Mourning of Youth” composition, he’d mentioned that a viola would sound good in there, so before you know it, the master knife-throwing, catgut stroking Jessica Walker was enlisted to lay down some wailing and plucking that, says Stu, “had all of the hairs sticking out on the back of my neck!” (This harrowing, haunting track was also selected by the late Kurt Cobain for one of his personal mix-cassettes track-listed in his posthumously published diaries.)

p236 Kurt's diary "Mourning of Youth" on a mixtape playlist

Flashback #2

By the time the Axemen and Kevin Hawkins crossed swords paths in Auckland, while day-tripping there during their sojourn at the Whangarei Buskers Festival in December 1985, Shoes This High had disbanded, Fishschool was no more and Kev had metamorphosed into the proudly homosexual Screamin’ K. Hawkins, collaborating with various musicians credited as “& His Walk-In Lovers.” While “love at first sight” doesn’t exactly describe the relationship that existed between Kev and Bob Brannigan (though given Bob’s growing interest in psychic phenomena at the time, “love at second sight” is peculiarly apt), the older rocker charmed the pants off the repressed rebel and touched him in ways few men hitherto had, and none since.

Soon the gay guerrilla planted his seed in the young punk’s garden of earthly delights and romance blossomed. The pair pashed in public and back in Christchurch camped inside Kawowski’s Rolleston Ave foyer, staging a mini bed-in a la John & Yoko, only way gayer and with no international media attention. “We even had sex in the backseat of the Starliner,” boasts Bob, “en-route between Christchurch & South Dunedin. Thanks to Kevvy’s gift of love, at last I was able to laugh at the atmosphere of stultifying despondency that permeated NZ intercity bus-services in the mid-80s.”

Despite growing health problems, Hawkins continued to use drugs on top of his prescribed withdrawal medication, frequently blacking-out and injuring himself; this behaviour frightened Bob and the couple parted acrimoniously. “I used to joke with him, saying If you die, I’ll fucking kill you! We had a falling-out and he went back up north, no contact for about a year, then he died. It was like a beautiful fairy story gone terribly wrong. But what a guy! A total magician.”

Flashback #3

“Around the end of 1986,” Stu recalls, “I remember running into Croatian Axeman extraordinaire Dragan Stojanovic busking in Manners Mall just near McDonalds (one of his regular Wellington busking haunts). He told me that Kevin Hawkins had just died but that he’d seen him the previous week, and that Kev was over the moon ‘cos he’d fulfilled one of his lifetime dreams: Fucking someone in a cemetery. En route downhill from Victoria University after some event up there, he and his companion wandered through the remains of the desecrated old cemetery, and did the deed against a gravestone.”

(BTW if anybody knows where Dragan is can they please ask him to get in touch with AXEMEN - email or comment on the blog…)

-Saki Tuskwow & Ann Gribabbon

Dave Padulo Mute air The Barn NJ (Wednesday night) Circa 1986

Part 3 in our ongoing series of pictures. I am going to create a category called Wednesday Night for the interested parties to follow along. Here is a gem of Dave Padulo…Mute air on the pool coping side with Ben Cornish, Jimmy Kane and Stevie “D” Mannion looking on. The Padulo brothers had that mid eighties Tony Hawk thing going on. 

Stay tuned for a lot more!

Ps. Just counted there are over 166 skaters represented in The House of Steam on line archive…crazy stuff!

Jason Oliva

(1913-1986) Jurista de profesión y militante comunista desde la época de la clandestinidad, Donáth alcanzó un enorme prestigio con un libro sobre la reforma agraria húngara de 1945. Caído en desgracia dentro del Partido, el sector estalinista-rákosista logró que en 1951 fuera condenado a quince años de cárcel. Una vez liberado y rehabilitado se vinculó al grupo de Imre Nagy. Después de la derrota de la insurrección Donáth fue procesado y condenado a doce años de cárcel. En 1960 quedó en libertad.

There Goes My Woody

It was a vibrant, blue New York City Sunday. I was seven and barely tall enough to see out of the car window, so, in a resourceful fashion, I perched on my boney knees and pressed my nose against the glass -my parent’s first luxury car, a 1986 red Nissan Maxima, which I would later drive on my 17th birthday nearly 16 years after its heyday; but thinking back to its glory days, this one Sunday afternoon always comes to mind.

Maybe, it was late spring, or early summer, because I can feel the air conditioning cooling my body. We were probably headed uptown to a museum or a park or Zabar’s –where the smell of freshly ground coffee beans permeated through the aisles and when nobody was watching, I would stick my hands in the barrels of dark brown, black beans that reminded me of weekend mornings when my mom would make pancakes and Kenya roast would drip slowly into the coffeepot.

In those days, the City was still surprising. I had not yet proclaimed that “the world is such a small place” or felt the ennui of adulthood or said to my mom that “I’ve better things to do on a Sunday,” that would all come in due time, but, as of then, I was still impressed by the bright Sunday afternoon-New York City-streetscape that played out in front of me like a 16mm film projection, as we rolled down the street.

I watched the crowd ebb and flow below restaurant awnings: a couple of young yuppies from Murray Hill passed in sunglasses and matching strides; a determined Upper West Side woman wore fur under the sun and knew important people on boards; two middle-aged men held hands and walked their dog with freedom as if they were on Christopher Street; a college girl with crimped hair and blue eye shadow had an L.L Bean backpack and had never been to Europe, but loved Patrick Swayze; a man in blue jeans and a t-shirt leaned the whole weight of his body against a door frame, puffing on a cigarette, taking an extra five minute work break.

And then the bystanders parted into the periphery, and there he was in his maroon sweater vest with his hands thrust into his khaki pockets, a wisp of his short blond hair lifted in the unassuming breeze, and I shrieked, “LOOK! LOOK! IT’S WOODY ALLEN!” Nobody had to guess who he was, where he came from, who he loved. His neuroses were ours too, and if the scene demanded a soundtrack, it would have been from the American Song Book. And then he turned the corner or we sped away and eventually the Nissan broke down almost two decades later, but the back seat window memories will always be mine.

Depois de três semanas embaladas pela vingança de Chan-wook Park contra aqueles que teimam em ver seus filmes, hoje o tema é a clássica “família disfuncional”. Não é por coincidência que a história de A Lula e A Baleia vem dos Estados Unidos e, mais especificamente, dos anos 80. Esta década específica marca o começo do declínio do império americano, que já dava indícios de saturação naquela época. O desmantelamento da família é apenas o ponto de partida deste drama irônico de Noah Baumbach, que buscou na sua própria infância material para contar a história de uma família de pseudo-intelectuais do Brooklyn.

Bernard (Jeff Daniels) é o patriarca, escritor decadente que não suporta pessoas que não gostam de livros ou filmes. Começa a cambalear quando sua esposa Joan (Laura Linney) começa a ter um caso fora do casamento e, ao mesmo tempo, consegue publicar sua primeira história na badaladíssima New Yorker. Bernard se vangloria para os filhos Walt (Jesse Eisenberg) e Frank (Owen Kline, filho do ator Kevin Kline, ótimo no papel), que a mãe dos meninos só começou a escrever influenciada por ele, e que dele também deveria ser todo o reconhecimento pelo sucesso de Joan. Walt partilha das mesmas opiniões do pai e Frank prefere ficar do lado da mãe.

Não é surpresa quando o casal anuncia às crianças que decidiram, depois de muitas brigas, pelo caminho do divórcio. De cena dramática, a seqüência assume contornos sarcásticos quando o garoto mais velho pergunta com quem vai ficar o gato. Claramente, isso é o que menos importa na história, mas o diretor faz aqui uma referência ao constante esvaziamento da família americana do ponto de vista dos filhos. A resposta vem tão ácida quanto a pergunta: “Droga! Não discutimos o gato!”. Continuando a linha da ironia o casal começa e lidar com outras perguntas do tipo: como dividir de maneira igual os sete dias da semana em uma guarda conjunta; como reaver, sem guerras, os livros que cada um pôs na estante; como fazer com que as crianças tenham duas casas iguais; quem deve pagar a escola, as aulas de tênis, as roupas de inverno.

A separação é a deixa para o comportamento estranho de Walt e Frank começar. O primeiro briga com a namorada porque quer “algo melhor”. Depois, diz que a música Hey You, do Pink Floyd, escrita por Roger Waters, é uma composição sua e a apresenta em um festival na escola. Frank, o mais novo, dá início ao seu vício no álcool e começa a ter diversas fantasias sexuais. Entre elas, a vontade incontrolável de espalhar seus fluídos corporais pela biblioteca e pelos armários da escola. Aliás, não apenas as crianças, mas os adultos também revelam suas fantasias: Bernard se apaixona por uma das alunas, Lili (Anna Paquim), aspirante à escritora, ousada e praticamente um símbolo sexual ambulante que ainda consegue seduzir Walt. Joan aproveita a liberdade para consolidar sua carreira de escritora e inicia um romance com Ivan (William Baldwin), professor de tênis de Frank.

Aos poucos, as máscaras de todos começam a cair. Dessa forma, os filhos descobrem os constantes casos extraconjugais da mãe, que possuem um complexo histórico de vários anos. Percebem também que o pai é psicologicamente dominador, egocêntrico e medíocre, racionaliza absurdamente toda sua vida, além de ser um pai praticamente ausente do convívio com os filhos. Descobrem também que o gato talvez seja o único ser normal nesta família, pois foge para a rua, recusando a casa destruída. É quando as duas partes estão bem separadas que a questão primordial vem à tona. Quem renderia um romance melhor: a lula ou a baleia? O pai ou a mãe? Na história da literatura é notável que baleias sempre rendem narrativas mais marcantes e talvez esteja aí representado o aspecto pegajoso do pai, com seus tentáculos que sugam a livre iniciativa e o espírito autoral de todos.

A linguagem com a qual vemos tudo isso é muito simples. Baumbach apenas faz com que a câmera seja um terceiro filho do casal, presenciando cenas dentro do carro, nos jogos de tênis, nas brigas em casa: presenciando a aparente falta de sincronia da família. No entanto, para saber onde o título estranho entra efetivamente na história, é preciso ver o filme até o final, quando são fixados exemplarmente os papéis de pai e mãe na vida dos meninos. Até lá, este pequeno conto sobre o amadurecimento frente à dificuldade e à mudança, merecia destino melhor do que uma Sessão de Gala dublada na madrugada da Globo.

A Lula e a Baleia (The squid and the whale, 2005, EUA)
Direção: Noah Baumbach
Roteiro: Noah Baumbach
Elenco: Jeff Daniels, Laura Linney, Owen Kline, Jesse Eisenberg, Anna Paquin, William Baldwin
Duração: 81 min.
www.imdb.com/title/tt0367089/

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