Friday, January 31, 2020

SUPERNATURAL
Season 15

Post-holidays triple feature.

Carol Channing

ISAAC ASIMOV
Quasar, Quasar, Burning Bright (1978)

I believe that only scientists can understand the universe. It is not so much that I have confidence in scientists being right, but that I have so much confidence in non-scientists being wrong.

PARASITE

Bong Joon Ho
Korea, 2019


Baikal Nomads
MIXTAPE 28
Deni Sun

Ethnic / Downtempo / Electronic / Chillout / Techno

MICHAEL LONGLEY
“Thaw”

Snow curls into the coalhouse, flecks the coal.
We burn the snow as well in bad weather
As though to spring-clean that darkening hole.
The thaw’s a blackbird with one white feather.

Thursday, January 30, 2020


REAZIONE A CATENA
-
A BAY OF BLOOD 

Mario Bava
Italy, 1972


THOMAS BERNHARD
The Loser

In theory we understand people, but in practice we can’t put up with them, I thought, deal with them for the most part reluctantly and always treat them from our point of view. We should observe and treat people not from our point of view but from all angles, I thought, associate with them in such a way that we can say we associate with them so to speak in a completely unbiased way, which however isn’t possible, since we actually are always biased against everybody.

LA FRUSTA E IL CORPO
-
THE WHIP AND THE BODY

Mario Bava (as John M. Old)
Italy, 1963
HUEY NEWTON

We [Black Panthers] have not said much about the homosexual at all, but we must relate to the homosexual movement because it is a real thing. And I know through reading, and through my life experience and observations that homosexuals are not given freedom and liberty by anyone in the society. They might be the most oppressed people in the society.

Wednesday, January 29, 2020


I AM DIVINE
The True Story of the Most Beautiful Woman in the World

Jeffrey Schwartz
USA, 2019
TALLULAH BANKHEAD

I'm as pure as the driven slush.

MULTIPLE MANIACS

John Waters
Baltimore, 1970
ELDRIGE CLEAVER

You don’t have to teach people how to be human.

You have to teach them how to stop being inhuman.

Tuesday, January 28, 2020


IL ROSSO SEGNO DELLA FOLLIA
-
HATCHET FOR THE HONEYMOON

Mario Bava
Italy, 1970
HAROLD PINTER
Old Times

What worries me is the thought of your husband rumbling about alone in his enormous villa living hand to mouth on a few hard-boiled eggs and unable to speak a damn word of English.

GLI OCCHI FREDDI DELLA PAURA
-
COLD EYES OF FEAR

Enzo G. Castellari
Italy, 1971
PHILIP LEVINE
“Blue”

Dawn. I was just walking
back across the tracks
toward the loading docks
when I saw a kid climb
out of a boxcar, his blue
jacket trailing like a skirt,
and make for the fence. He’d
hoisted a wet wooden flat
of fresh fish on his right
shoulder, and he tottered
back and forth like someone
with one leg shorter than
the other. I took my glasses
off and wiped them on the tails
of my dirty shirt, and all
I could see were the smudges
of the men wakening one
at a time and reaching for
both the sky and the earth.
My brother-in-law, Joseph,
the railroad cop, who talked
all day and all night of beer
and pussy, Joseph in his suit
shouting out my name, Pheeel!
Pheeel! waving a blue bandana
and pointing behind me to
where the kid cleared the fence
and the weak March sun
had topped the car barns,
to a pale watery sky, wisps
of dirty smoke, and the day.

Monday, January 27, 2020

COSA AVETE FATTO A SOLANGE?
-
WHAT HAPPENED TO SOLANGE?

Massimo Dallamano
Italy, 1972
CARL SAGAN

If it can be destroyed by the truth, it deserves to be destroyed by the truth.

-

DOROTHY ALLISON

If it’s true, I have the absolute right to terrify you with it.

PERCHÉ QUELLE STRANE GOCCE DI SANGUE SUL CORP DI JENNIFER?
-
THE CASE OF THE BLOODY IRIS

Giuliano Carnimeo
Italy, 1972
EMIL CIORAN
A Brief History of Decay

In every man sleeps a prophet, and when he wakes there is a little more evil in the world.

Sunday, January 26, 2020


NUDE PER L'ASSASSINO
-
STRIP NUDE FOR YOUR KILLER

Andrea Bianchi
Italy, 1975
LA TARANTOLA DAL VENTRE NERO
-
THE BLACK BELLY OF THE TARANTULA

Paolo Cavara
Italy, 1971
 

Yatao with Peia and Rob Taylor
"The Change is Now"

T. S. ELIOT
From a letter to Groucho Marx - June 3, 1964

The picture of you in the newspaper saying that, amongst other reasons, you have come to London to see me has greatly enhanced my credit line in the neighborhood, and particularly with the greengrocer across the street.

Saturday, January 25, 2020


SORCERESS

Jack Hill (as Brian Stuart)
Mexico - USA, 1982
STAR CRASH 

Luigi Cozzi (as Lewis Coates)
Italy, 1978

LA GUERRA DE LOS GIGANTES
Sebastián Durón (1660-1716)

Darío Moreno

Pilar Alva, Soledad Cardoso, Laura Sabatel. Olalla Alemán, Marta Infante, Eva Juarez, Solomía Antonyak,

Orchestra Barroca De Granada, Íliber Ensemble

HAROLD PINTER
Moonlight

You’re not a bad man. You’re just what we used to call a loudmouth. You can’t help it. It’s your nature. If you only kept your mouth shut more of the time life with you might just be tolerable.


VIETNAMESE HOME COOKING

Charles Phan

Friday, January 24, 2020

SAMUEL BECKETT
The Unnamable

Method or no method I shall have to banish them in the end, the beings, things, shapes, sounds and lights with which my haste to speak has encumbered this place.

ISOLATION

Billy O'Brien
Ireland, 2005
THE JUNIPER TREE

Nietzchka Keene
Iceland, 1990


Baikal Nomads
MIXTAPE 27
Samsara

Downtempo / Ethnic / Electronic / Deep House / Techno

JORGE LUIS BORGES

A writer’s work is the product of laziness, you see. A writer’s work essentially consists of taking his mind off things, of thinking about something else, of daydreaming, of not being in any hurry to go to sleep but to imagine something … And then comes the actual writing, and that’s his trade. That is, I don’t think the two things are incompatible. Besides, I think that when one is writing something that’s more or less good, one doesn’t feel it to be a chore; one feels it to be a form of amusement. A form of amusement that doesn’t exclude the use of intelligence, just as chess doesn’t exclude it.

Thursday, January 23, 2020

LUDO

Katrin Ottarsdóttir
Faroe Islands, 2014

RÖKKUR
-
RIFT

Erlingur Thoroddsen
Iceland, 2017

Yatao
"One Love"
Tired of winning yet, MAGA maggots?
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
“XXIX [Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind]”

Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom
But Thee, deep buried in the silent Tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind—
But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss?—That thought’s return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.



SRI LANKA
The Cookbook

Prakash K. Sivanatha and Niranjala M. Ellawala

Wednesday, January 22, 2020

THOMAS JEFFERSON
From a letter to Peter Carr - Paris, August 19, 1785

He who permits himself to tell a lie once, finds it much easier to do it a second and third time, till at length it becomes habitual; he tells lies without attending to it, and truth without the world’s believing him. This falsehood of the tongue leads to that of the heart, and in time depraves all its good dispositions.

L'OCCHIO NEL LABIRINTO
-
EYE IN THE LABYRINTH

Mario Calano
Italy, 1972
NON SI SEVIZIA UN PAPERINO
-
DON'T TORTURE A DUCKLING

Lucio Fulci
Italy, 1972
MARGARET ATWOOD
"Frogless"

The sore trees cast their leaves
too early. Each twig pinching
shut like a jabbed clam.
Soon there will be a hot gauze of snow
searing the roots.

Booze in the spring runoff,
pure antifreeze;
the stream worms drunk and burning.
Tadpoles wrecked in the puddles.

Here comes an eel with a dead eye
grown from its cheek.
Would you cook it?
You would if.

The people eat sick fish
because there are no others.
Then they get born wrong.

This is not sport, sir.
This is not good weather.
This is not blue and green.

This is home.
Travel anywhere in a year, five years,
and you’ll end up here.

Tuesday, January 21, 2020



OVERLORD

Julius Avery
USA, 2018
LI BAI

You ask why I make my home in the mountain forest,
and I smile, and am silent,
and even my soul remains quiet:
it lives in the other world
which no one owns.
The peach trees blossom,
The water flows.

THE CRIMINAL CHILD
Selected Essays

Jean Genet

Monday, January 20, 2020


IL TUO VIZIO È UNA STANZA CHIUSA E SOLO IO NE HO LA CHIAVE
-
YOUR VICE IS A LOCKED ROOM AND ONLY I HAVE THE KEY

Sergio Martino
Italy, 1973


ANNE SPENCER
"White Things"

Most things are colorful things—the sky, earth, and sea.
                  Black men are most men; but the white are free!
White things are rare things; so rare, so rare
They stole from out a silvered world—somewhere.
Finding earth-plains fair plains, save greenly grassed,
They strewed white feathers of cowardice, as they passed;
                 The golden stars with lances fine
                 The hills all red and darkened pine,
They blanched with their wand of power;
And turned the blood in a ruby rose
To a poor white poppy-flower.

GATTO NERO
-
THE BLACK CAT

Lucio Fulci
Italy, 1981
BONNIE 'PRINCE' BILLY
“God’s Small Song”

I will wake up tomorrow
I have tended to God’s small song
And to Love’s small song
And closed my eyes to sleep so long

And tonight I’ll go
Into all of the places that you love
That is my place here
To have been in those

I will wake up tomorrow
I have amended some of the things
That some actions bring
And closed the head to be with you

In each eye there is an apple
Buried there before the eye
And out of sockets come the branches
And from the branches dangle I

Sunday, January 19, 2020


ZOMBIE

Lucio Fulci
Italy, 1980
TALLULAH BANKHEAD

I'll come and make love to you at five o'clock. If I'm late start without me.

Saturday, January 18, 2020


NO BLADE OF GRASS

Cornel Wilde
USA, 1972
Z. P. G.

Michael Campus
USA | Denmark, 1972
WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
"About a little girl"

Knowledge defeats its own end
approaching the state of heaven
when it envisions
through the glass
delicately adjusted in the
sliding tubes
        —to prove death inevitable—
the red and blue dots
of anilene stained blood which
shout derisively at our despair

But the child
walks laughing from
room to room of her gentle home

She is eleven and
her parents love her very much

Over her
the trees hold their leaves
dripping with the rain
shining green

This afternoon she will ride in the bus
to the railroad station

There will be a locomotive
and cars and people running around—
bags to carry—The lake
beckons in the distance—
                        But
she is an angel, already in
heaven, the earth

is a toy balloon under her feet—

with her girlish shoes she
pushes it back—
it falls away into banality—
her wrinkling brown eyes have robbed it
of its meaning—
                It is she

The Promenader—
whom men see and do not discover—

Princess Marion
eaten by curious wrongs

Friday, January 17, 2020


Pardon me.

Do you have a few moments to talk about our lords and saviors, the great horned forest gods of Northern Europe that appeared almost a thousand years after y'alls little white Egyptian baby?

Oh, you haven't heard the good news? Then I am so gosh darn happy to have this opportunity to share.








[Can I just have the pamphlet please?]

THE LETTER

William Wyler
USA, 1940
W. S. MERWIN
"The Nails"

I gave you sorrow to hang on your wall
Like a calendar in one color.
I wear a torn place on my sleeve.
It isn’t as simple as that.

Between no place of mine and no place of yours
You’d have thought I’d know the way by now
Just from thinking it over.
Oh I know
I’ve no excuse to be stuck here turning
Like a mirror on a string,
Except it’s hardly credible how
It all keeps changing.
Loss has a wider choice of directions
Than the other thing.

As if I had a system
I shuffle among the lies
Turning them over, if only
I could be sure what I’d lost.
I uncover my footprints, I
Poke them till the eyes open.
They don’t recall what it looked like.
When was I using it last?
Was it like a ring or a light
Or the autumn pond
Which chokes and glitters but
Grows colder?
It could be all in the mind. Anyway
Nothing seems to bring it back to me.

And I’ve been to see
Your hands as trees borne away on a flood,
The same film over and over,
And an old one at that, shattering its account
To the last of the digits, and nothing
And the blank end.

The lightning has shown me the scars of the future.

I’ve had a long look at someone
Alone like a key in a lock
Without what it takes to turn.

It isn’t as simple as that.

Winter will think back to your lit harvest
For which there is no help, and the seed
Of eloquence will open its wings
When you are gone.
But at this moment
When the nails are kissing the fingers good-bye
And my only
Chance is bleeding from me,
When my one chance is bleeding,
For speaking either truth or comfort
I have no more tongue than a wound.

Baikal Nomads
MIXTAPE 25
Phil Weé

Downtempo / Storytelling / Electronic / Deep House / Techno / Ethnic


Baikal Nomads
MIXTAPE 26
Med Aziz

Ethnic / Downtempo / Deep House / Electronic / Ambient / World



FEDERICO GARCÍA LORCA
"Dawn"

Dawn in New York has
four columns of mire
and a hurricane of black pigeons
splashing in the putrid waters.

Dawn in New York groans
on enormous fire escapes
searching between the angles
for spikenards of drafted anguish.

Dawn arrives and no one receives it in his mouth
because morning and hope are impossible there.
And sometimes the furious swarming coins
penetrate like drills and devour abandoned children.

Those who got out early know in their bones
there will be no paradise or loves that bloom and die;
they know they will be mired in numbers and laws,
in mindless games, in fruitless labors.

The light is buried beneath chains and noises,
an important warning to rootless science.
And crowds stagger sleeplessly through the boroughs
as if they had just escaped a shipwreck of blood.


     Translated by Greg Simon and Steven L. White

Thursday, January 16, 2020

GOT PARTS?
An Insider's Guide to Managing Life Successfully with Dissociative Identity Disorder

ATW

CARNIVAL ROW
Season One

Travis Beacham, René Echevarria, Stephanie K. Smith
USA, 2019
MARGARET MEAD
Culture and Commitment: A Study of the Generation Gap

Instead of being presented with stereotypes by age, sex, color, class, or religion, children must have the opportunity to learn that within each range, some people are loathsome and some are delightful.

Wednesday, January 15, 2020


PAURA NELLA CITTÀ DEI MORTI VIVENTI
-
CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD

Lucio Fulci
Italy, 1980

QUELLA VILLA ACCANTO AL CIMITERO
-
THE HOUSE BY THE CEMETERY

Lucio Fulci
Italy, 1981
RYŌKAN

you must rise above
the gloomy clouds
covering the mountaintop
otherwise, how will you
ever see the brightness? 

Tuesday, January 14, 2020


عفريتة هانم
AFRITA HANEM

LITTLE MISS DEVIL
aka THE LADY GENIE

Hinri Barakat & Yusuf Maloof
Egypt, 1949

Why is science - and why are those "educated" scientists - so hell-bent on making the WhiteBabyJesus™cry and leading mankind into eternal damnation?

There is a book.

FEMALE ON THE BEACH

Joseph Pevney
USA, 1955
TOMAS TRANSTRÖMER
“Two Cities”

Each on its own side of a strait, two cities
one plunged into darkness, under enemy control.
In the other the lamps are burning.
The luminous shore hypnotizes the blacked-out one.

I swim out in a trance
on the glittering dark waters.
A muffled tuba-blast breaks in.
It’s a friend’s voice, take your grave and go.

Monday, January 13, 2020

RAINER MARIA RILKE
"To Say For Going To Sleep"

I would like to sing someone to sleep,
by someone to sit and be,
I would like to rock you and croon you to sleep
and attend you in slumber and out.
I would like to be the only one in the house
who would know: The night was cold.
And you would like to hearken within and without
to you, to the world, to the woods,—
The clocks call striking to each other,
and one sees to the bottom of time.
And below a strange man passes yet
and rouses a strange dog.
Behind that comes stillness. I have laid
my eyes upon you wide;
they hold you gently and let you go
when something stirs in the dark.


Translated by M.D. Hester Norton

6 DONNE PER L'ASSASSINO
-
BLOOD AND BLACK LACE

Mario Bava
Italy, 1964

UNA SULL'ALTRA

ONE ON TOP OF THE OTHER
aka PERVERSION STORY

Lucio Fulci
Italy, 1969





WILFRED OWEN
"Dulce et Decorum est"

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori