Letter to the editor

Begin forwarded message:

From: Martin Tran
Date: 7 February 2007 10:28:22 PM
To: letters@drummedia.com.au
Subject: Letter to the editor

Dear Drum,

Re: Letter by Kristy, The Drum Media, 6 February #840

I propose we eradicate the term 'teeny bopper' from conversation and discourse. The only use for it is as a negative description. All it does is perpetuate the 'us versus them' battleground that the regular gig has become. From now on, nobody is allowed to utter those words, lest you suffer the wrath of Ken West, and be turned away at the gates of Big Day Out 2008.

Seriously, you've gotta give these kids a break, Kristy. They're only out to have a bit of fun, just like you. Who gives a fuck if, by your wisdom, they're not 'real fans'? Are we about to force everyone to take a quiz on the band so only those true fans are permitted entry? What if they just wanna have a jump around to some crap music [you are talking My Chemical Romance...]? How does it feel to be all high and mighty up there, with your superior knowledge and 'true fandom' of the band draped around your shoulders?

Anyway, most of these kids already face a pretty tough test before they can enter some gigs – age limits. Thank god there are bands and promoters who are willing to support the age challenged out there. You can turn your nose up at me when we next meet at an 18 plus gig, but give these kids a chance.

Instead, I say we should get rid of those drunks in the crowd more interested in having a loud conversation with neighbours than paying respect to the artist on stage and their [at times kind of soft] music. I'm looking at you, the woman at the first Neko Case gig screaming after the encores.

Most sincerely,
Martin
Canley Vale

Late

Damn it, the people are right.

The Late Show with David Letterman is not funny. Why do I insist on tuning in?

Nothing from the shower tonight.

Pondering narration

I was pondering my wankery from last night [read it however you wish]. After reading a review of the film [this has been discussed elsewhere], I was thinking about my opinion of the Dustin Hoffman character. The reviewer said he was given the funniest lines, but I only remembered how I hated him at the end of the movie. I realised that I hated him because he almost stood in the way of the 'happily ever after'. And then I realised that I wanted that 'happily ever after' ending. I was one of those romantics. It was my knee-jerk, my gut, my reflex. I couldn't help it, but I wanted a soppy ending.

My disgust for the film's ending [as manifest in this] came in the moments after I left the cinema, it probably being a disgust in myself. How could I stoop to the lowest common denominator? [It's Bill Pullman, not Bill Paxton!]

In the shower tonight, I had another of those moments, thinking about Sarah Jessica Parker. I came up with a question of inversions that was worthy of Carrie Bradshaw: Do we become stupid because we're romantics, or does our ignorance make us romantics? Well, I for one could imagine her narration of the sentence as the camera followed the cursor across this screen...

I'm going to leave that question for now, and just wonder how one of Carrie's columns would read, without the help of its dramatisation. Without her voice in my head. Did I read High Fidelity before I saw the film, or the other way round? It makes a difference, either having Rob Fleming as John Cusack, talking directly to me through the screen about what Laura might tell Liz were the reasons for the breakup, or Rob Fleming as some guy with a leather jacket, maybe a forced London accent, and no face.

I rewatched the Scorsese double of Goodfellas and Casino recently. There he is, Henry Hill, the soon-to-be nobody, in court, deciding to ignore the other characters and up from the witness box, talking directly to me, about how he'll get noodles with ketchup instead of spaghetti with marinara sauce. Why do they talk to us like we exist?

Dunno, just wondering, really. Read into this however you wish.

Whoo! Alright - Yeah... Uh huh

I just had a shower.

I had a moment during that shower. It was a brief period of enlightenment, and I felt content afterwards.

Okay, it goes a little something like this: after doing it daily for years, I've got my shower routine down so that it's automatic. While I'm doing my automaton dance, my mind can wander and I get to work through the problems of the day. The change of environment [heat and running water] and my nakedness also helps my meditations. I got to an answer tonight.

The bathroom is a place that incubates revelations. The toilet seat is sometimes a place where these revelations can occur, but I'm prone to the male habit of reading, so I often can't concentrate on my wandering mind. Didn't Archimedes have one of these moments during a bath? The bathroom is a place that incubates revelations.

So, back to my day. I came to the realisation that the cricket was boring during New Zealand's innings this afternoon, so I upped and went to see the film Stranger than Fiction [don't worry, tonight's session reinvigorated my recent fascination with sport].

Trying not to spoil anything for anyone, I'll say that I left the cinema feeling a little disgusted. The best word to describe the ending is saccharine. There's this film, setting itself up for an ending that will inspire anyone with the blackest of souls to think, yes, the world is a terrible place, and that is awesome. But, no. It went ahead to pander for the sunshine and flowers, No Rain loving romantics out there. I was about to drive my car into a florist just to tell the world that that's wrong.

Hours later, in the calm of a shower, I saw the light. The ending was a big 'Fuck you!', as much as that of Lars von Trier's [Lars von Trier...] Dancer in the Dark. If you've seen the ads for the film, you'll know it's about this dude who is hearing the narration of his own life. Layers of self-referentiality, you know, the sort of shit that I'm in love with. So, there's the film ending, saying to the audience, 'You idiots, nobody lives happily ever after. Are you paying attention to me? The characters are referring to me, literally. I exist as a character in the film. And you just go ahead and listen to the human characters, ignoring the wisdom I speak.' That's the ending talking, if it could speak. I heard it in the shower.

Just so you know, I thought Dancer in the Dark was too dark. And, Stranger than Fiction generally wasn't that great a movie. Watch it just to understand me.