From comic book (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scott_Pilgrim) to film.
Yes, it stars Michael Cera. Yes, he’s in a band and yes, he plays bass. And fights like Bruce Lee, with a vengeance. All in just-dark-enough, teenage fun replete with obscure musical references. Check it out!
PS: it’s also got Jason Schwartzman in it.
PPS: half the soundtrack was written by Beck. Hansen. Yes, the guy who sings “Loser”.
can’t think of anything clever to say… i’ll let mr Grohl speak for himself.
how appropriate that my most recent tattoo (no i will not lift my shirt up) is a maze! or labyrinth, i am still not sure of the semantic differences between those two.
when i first chose the tattoo design i was thinking of the intricacies of the mind in general and of mine, in particular. i am now a ripe 28 but have yet to discover and fully understand how my mind works. and my heart, for that matter. metaphorically speaking, of course. in the light of recent, tumultuous, self-discoveries i find myself lost in different sort of maze. i am NOT a rat sniffing out a piece of cheese. i am lost, but i have my bearings. for the first time, they’re close to the heart. MY heart.
i know and understand how my mind works to the same extent i know the ins and outs of neurosurgery. or quantum physics. but perhaps it is not understanding i need. i may want it being such a brainiac, but i may not need it. i have come to believe that what i need is, in fact, acceptance. from myself. understanding how my mind and my Ego and my Self work is all fine and dandy, but a major first step would be acceptance. for far too long i have judged myself in terms of “wrong” and “right”, “good” and “bad”, “should always” and “should never”. bullshit!
i am not making excuses for my choices. some of them were poor and that’s a fact. but the fact that they were poor is neither good, nor bad. it just is. after all, those choices, however inspired or poor, made me who i am today. and, maybe for the first time in my life, i am done with the “i don’t like myself so much” crap. 20 years or so of beating myself over the head with the “it’s not good enough” stick (thanks dad!) are enough. Enough!
i am me. and that will do. oh and yeah, i was born to live. the Constantines rule and Lizaveta is the song of the year, as far as i am concerned.
fuck, i need a smoke!
Lizaveta, we stood together in the pissing rain.
Your flesh was showing through your shirt.
You said “Lover, let’s run for cover!”
I said “Lover, wait. Stay here and I’ll give up all I’m worth…”
It’s good… we desire disorder.
With this design we’re all born our own destroyer
In that evil hour, without defense, be sensitive
You were born to live.
Attraction lures the sot to drink, to all his troubles drown
But when his legs give way, he falls and attraction keeps him down
In that evil hour, without defense, be sensitive
We were born to live.
- The Constantines, “Lizaveta” from Tournament of Hearts, 2005
It kills me that…
Jeff Buckley was able to sing like he did.
Thom Yorke is able to write the music he writes along with his radio headed accomplices .
Joy Division were around for only a few brief years.
David Gilmour constructs walls of sonic delight rather than composes music.
Kurt Cobain could, almost single handedly, deconstruct rock music, only to put it back together again in rougher, simpler and more sincere terms. And still maintain his love of the Beatles along the way.
Dylan, Young & Springsteen seem to have drunk from the same fountain of profound lyricism and stunningly beautiful music.
But most of all, it kills me that as much as I may want it and wish it… I may never be part of their beautiful, sad and fascinating world.
