July 2010: movies
- The Way We Were, Sydney Pollack, 1973, English (US)
- L’Emploi du temps, Laurent Cantet, 2001, French
- Paris nous appartient, Jacques Rivette, 1960, French
but I also want to say that I’ve also been thinking of becoming a librarian and thinking on library cultures in general.
On Monday my cousin and I drove to Princeton and explored the very empty, but very beautiful university campus and some of the surrounding area. There were books on sale and I picked up Susan Sontag‘s Illness as Metaphor and AIDS and Its Metaphors (which my cousin dutifully paid for, making me feel like a spoilt child). We also ate — if I remember correctly — blue rose
Firstly, this is not just a corny title, it is a self-conscious, referential, corny title.
Secondly, OMG, I’m leaving, like, tomorrow.
So this is a post to tell you that Blotting paper will be temporarily on hold. I’m thinking two weeks, but it might be more.
Extraordinary films, for the most part.
Strange things have been happening.
One of the strange things is that I have fewer and fewer things to say. I’m usually mouthing off about something or the other, but I have fewer opinions these days. Naturally, I’ve been wondering why. Is it just laziness? And why am I suddenly so lazy? I think I know the answer.
Deepika Arwind and Biswamit Dwibedy will be reading from their work at Crossword, Bangalore, on the 8th of July.
Pallavi suggested I write about my political beliefs and I thought why not?
I’m in a strange place right now: I have nothing to blog about. Help me find something to blog about.
Some notes follow this list of movies.
A while ago Space Bar of Spaniard in the Works fame mentioned she was celebrating a four year blog birthday. It made me wonder when Blotting paper was born.
Turns out David Davidar has been asked to step down from his post as CEO of Penguin Canada after allegations of sexual harassment were made. It also appears that some women have been defending him or at least finding it hard to believe that he could have behaved in such a way towards anyone, which is, if not anything else, interesting and worthy of comment.
Simon Turner interrogates the criticism of war and Holocaust literature
[The] treatment of Holocaust literature with such critical kid gloves tends to place a value upon it solely in terms of its usefulness as historical documentation, whilst the question of literary merit is relegated to a secondary status. As Perec notes, “it’s clear that a careful distinction is being drawn between books like these and ‘real’ literature,”
I used to think of my poems as children and comforted myself about my total lack of maternal feelings with the idea that I was a rear-er of poems. I love and cherish my poems. When they’re bad, it’s only because I haven’t taught them right from wrong. When they’re ugly, it’s only because they’re pubescent and I haven’t found them the right diet pills and pimple cream. (Yeah, that’s the sort of mother I’d be.)
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