Shut it all down

What to do?

I know y’all are sick of me and everyone else raging against the bullshit, but seriously, how do we let this pass?  How do we accept that the senate can sit there–with exceptions Cory Booker and John Lewis being honest heroes–and go through this farcical process like it’s all okay and normal and part of the plan?

How loud can we all be?

WHERE do we raise those voices?

How do we shut this down?

No more business as usual. That’s what I want. This shouldn’t be happening.
But who and/or what agency and/or group of people have the power to actually bring this ride to a halt, for the safety of the passengers?
Maybe that execrable, weak excuse for a human being will still be president, even after every single path and inquiry has been exhausted, but I don’t see how anyone with a conscience can let this be okay right now.

Everyone is failing.

Pretty much every news outlet is failing. They’re all aghast–you can hear it in their voices, in the diction; they are stunned, confused–but they keep doing their dutiful best to maintain The Process.

The Process is destroying us.

The Process needs to be stopped.

How?

Bach, Carter, Schumann

Went to this last night.

J.S. Bach, Eliot Carter, Robert Schumann.

Not one of my more favorite Tuesday night recitals, but I don’t go to necessarily have my tastes flattered.

Brandenburg Concerto No. 4: one of the all-time chestnuts. Grew up hearing it. Never actually witnessed it performed live. Given my semi-recent (re)engagement with Bach, I was intrigued to see how this would go down.

Within about seven notes, I was losing a little interest in that project.

The 16th notes.

Jesus lord the 16th notes.

They never end.

I was however slightly stoked to realize the first movement is in 3/8…or is that 3/4? Yay for not being 4/4.

I was really here for the Carter.

Not as knotty as I expected. Much more easily comprehensible than I expected. With a bigger harpsichord than the Bach ensemble!

I am re-re-re-reconfirmed in my distaste of harpsichord, especially in a hall. Just…no. As much as I want to really dig this piece of music, the timbre of that instrument just doesn’t sit well with me. It has no real attack. It has AN attack, a sudden rise in amplitude, that settles instantly in to this dull sustain, and sits there for a moment, and then dies. If you play more than one note at a time, it’s mush.

I understand this is part of the point of the piece–to employ this timbre–and I admire the decision on a conceptual level; I really do. But…I can’t.

Schumann: boilerplate classical music.

I was in a hurry for it to end so I could go to sleep.

Is that undignified?

Jorge Castañeda and Mexican resistance

Hearing this piece on NPR this morning was utterly invigorating.

I wish more people in positions of political leadership and influence adopted the posture of Jorge Castañeda.

His comments on what Mexico can do in opposition to the incoming administration were simply outstanding.

Spine, guts, backbone–call it whatever you want–what I take away from this is a picture of a will to fight, to resist, and to adopt means that fall perhaps outside the more conventional forms of diplomacy; a little beyond the usual courtesies and pirouettes and accommodations and so forth.

Would that the opposition in this country were founded of a thousand Castañedas!

Leaders who will accept no shit.

Meanwhile, the Democrats…

Twin Peaks

Everybody on FB is all gaga over Twin Peaks coming back.

I can not overemphasize the limitlessness of my not-caring.

David Lynch is the single most overrated director of all time, and nothing he’s done outside of The Elephant Man and maybe Blue Velvet (despite its many ugly moments) merits any serious consideration.

The fetishization of all of his curious little conceits elicits a kind of aesthetic fatigue measurable in light years, and if I have to see one more stupid shared post with a still from this show, with some caption assuming we’re all stoked, I will…I will…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I really need to leave the interwebs.

Jeff Sessions, beacon of misery

‘“Yes,” Mr. Sessions said. “This country doesn’t punish its political enemies.”

…and this has passed with nary a comment.

This is meant to reassure.

No one on that committee called him on this.

My prediction: this gutless assembly of August Senators will confirm every single nomination. The Democrats will ask a few impolite questions. Nothing much will happen.

What the Democrats should do is shut the whole farce down, like that execrable actual garbage fire McConnell did with hearings on Merrick Garland.

Shut.

It.

Down.

 

The Golden Globes

So, yeah, they happened. I don’t really care much either way, but I’m a bit suspicious about how Moonlight earns best dramatic picture, and…nothing else, while LA’s film industry’s trivial little love letter to itself wins…seven.

Compensating much?

In my very brief, and graciously engaged conversation with Barry Jenkins a month or so ago, he gently asserted that he’s not in this for the awards. Somehow, I knew this. The film is too good, its spirit too generous and wise and patient to betray a community of people hungry for awards.

So that the film does or doesn’t win this or that award isn’t terribly important. Time and history will judge the film to be as essential and timeless and important as it exactly is.

But in the context of Oscars so White, something still feels amiss.

I’m suspicious that the Globes gave the best picture award to Moonlight, because they felt like they had to, but then went back to all the usual stuff, as if to suggest it had done its moral duty.

Maybe I’m wrong. The Globes did pay mind to Fences and Atlanta and Hidden Figures.

But still.

Those seven awards for La La Land are looking pretty damned white.

And Casey Affleck?

Nate Parker is eviscerated, his career essentially over, and Affleck gets a pass?

Let’s not even get started with that.