I've been away for a while. All apologies to anyone I may not have contacted. It's hard to actually find time to just sit down and keep this thing updated.
Anyway, I had an interesting experience last week. I went around the corner to the Grandin and saw Hotel Rwanda, the movie about the genocide in 1994. It was probably the first time since An American Tale or The Brave Little Toaster that I cried at a movie. I wouldn't even call it a great movie, a movie whose story is so moving that it moves one to tears. It was a very good movie. I think it was more the circumstances in which I saw it combined with a few lines and actions in the movie that hit me. There's a part where Joacquin Phoenix, who plays a cameraman for a news agency, has just taped an atrocity and plans to air it on the news within twenty-four hours. Don Cheadle tells him that when people see the footage they'll come to the rescue. Phoenix says, "I don't think so. I think people will see this tape and think, 'Oh, how awful,' and then just go back to eating their dinners." That's exactly what I remember happening eleven years ago. I was in seventh grade. This was a year after we invaded Somalia, and I remember wondering why we weren't going to intervene in Rwanda and prevent this stuff. The West just kind of backed away in one great ring , staring on while Rwanda went to hell. There's another scene where an international coalition finally arrives, but it's obvious right away that they're only there to save the white people. Nick Nolte plays a Canadian U.N. colonel, and he's doing everything in his power to keep the peace. He's pissed off about the coalition, and he shamefully admits to Don Cheadle that, in the eyes of the West, "You're not even niggers. You're Africans." And that, shamefully, is the absolute fucking truth. It's a horrible thought to comrehend. It was during the evacuation scene, where the coalition is bussing away the whites, that I lost it. I was in the Grandin on my own (no one else could make it), in the middle of a crowd of old white people, and it hit me that these are the same people who ignored the horror when it happened. When they go home that night, all they're going to do is say, "Oh, wasn't that just awful," and then eat dinner or go visit friends at a party or whatever. I was an emotional wreck the rest of the movie. Maybe I'm underestimating people, but frankly, after the election they've left little to my imagination. Welcome to the West, people. We'll pick and choose our conflicts based on the whiteness of the region. If you don't like it, here's a machete in your forehead.
Anyway, I had an interesting experience last week. I went around the corner to the Grandin and saw Hotel Rwanda, the movie about the genocide in 1994. It was probably the first time since An American Tale or The Brave Little Toaster that I cried at a movie. I wouldn't even call it a great movie, a movie whose story is so moving that it moves one to tears. It was a very good movie. I think it was more the circumstances in which I saw it combined with a few lines and actions in the movie that hit me. There's a part where Joacquin Phoenix, who plays a cameraman for a news agency, has just taped an atrocity and plans to air it on the news within twenty-four hours. Don Cheadle tells him that when people see the footage they'll come to the rescue. Phoenix says, "I don't think so. I think people will see this tape and think, 'Oh, how awful,' and then just go back to eating their dinners." That's exactly what I remember happening eleven years ago. I was in seventh grade. This was a year after we invaded Somalia, and I remember wondering why we weren't going to intervene in Rwanda and prevent this stuff. The West just kind of backed away in one great ring , staring on while Rwanda went to hell. There's another scene where an international coalition finally arrives, but it's obvious right away that they're only there to save the white people. Nick Nolte plays a Canadian U.N. colonel, and he's doing everything in his power to keep the peace. He's pissed off about the coalition, and he shamefully admits to Don Cheadle that, in the eyes of the West, "You're not even niggers. You're Africans." And that, shamefully, is the absolute fucking truth. It's a horrible thought to comrehend. It was during the evacuation scene, where the coalition is bussing away the whites, that I lost it. I was in the Grandin on my own (no one else could make it), in the middle of a crowd of old white people, and it hit me that these are the same people who ignored the horror when it happened. When they go home that night, all they're going to do is say, "Oh, wasn't that just awful," and then eat dinner or go visit friends at a party or whatever. I was an emotional wreck the rest of the movie. Maybe I'm underestimating people, but frankly, after the election they've left little to my imagination. Welcome to the West, people. We'll pick and choose our conflicts based on the whiteness of the region. If you don't like it, here's a machete in your forehead.
thanks for the condolences about my shop.
You work in the downtown mill mountain or the one over by tanglewood?
I know how you feel man, I used to wokr at books a million up in nova... talk about fucking idiots
yeah, i'm looking for a book, it had a red cover. where is it? why don't you know???? blah blah blah