A personal diary keeping people abreast of what I am working on writing-wise.

Saturday, April 30, 2005


Time for my movie picks for the month of May, for Trilogy Video and for you folks in the cyber ether. This time around, the title of the post says it all.

* Christ In Concrete, dir. Edward Dmytryk

* Out of the Past, starring Robert Mitchum & Jane Greer, dir. Jacques Tourneur

* The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945), dir. Albert Lewin

* Port of Shadows, starring Jean Gabin, dir. Marcel Carne

* Seconds, starring Rock Hudson, dir. John Frankenheimer

I was also going to include Infernal Affairs with Tony Leung and Andy Lau, but it's still considered a new release and I wasn't able to put it in. But consider that your alternate for the month. (I will likely use it later, though.)

Current Sountrack: The Decemberists, "The Mariner's Revenge Song;" Antony & The Johnsons, I Am A Bird Now

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2005 Jamie S. Rich

Thursday, April 28, 2005


The new installment of "Can You Picture That?" is now available to read. In it, I discuss my relationship to Orson Welles' F For Fake, and how it inspired my story "(T For) True" in Four Letter Worlds, despite having never seen it before yesterday.

Current Sountrack: Travis, Singles

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2005 Jamie S. Rich

Monday, April 25, 2005


Amazon still has not added I Was Someone Dead, and I keep complaining. Trust me. But if you want to skip that and order it now, Khepri.com has it as a featured item here, and you can save 35% off cover.

Current Soundtrack: Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, B-sides & Rarities disc 2

Sunday, April 24, 2005


Geez. I go and get all blog whiney and then someone points out to me that there's a new review of Cut My Hair on Amazon, and this reader, Sulia Serafine, couldn't have written a better message for me to hear. Not that I was so deathly low I was going to give it all up or anything, but I think everyone needs a reminder now and again of why they do what they do.

Another cause for celebration is that the debut single from The Tears comes out tomorrow. The Tears are the new band reuniting Brett Anderson and Bernard Butler, the creative duo behind the first two Suede albums. Butler left Suede after Dog Man Star and embarked on many different projects, and Suede continued with new creative personnel, but it was never the same. (Though, I personally feel Coming Up eclipses the self-titled debut for a pure glam rock jolt. But this isn't a post about Suede. If you'd like to read my feelings of the band, check this old post from when they split. Also, you can read Christopher McQuain's excellent write-up of The Tears here.)

Getting these songwriting greats back together worried me as much as it excited me. So often, bands can't go back again, can't rekindle whatever unique chemistry made their initial collaboration so thrilling. And for a band that was so important to me, it was particularly dangerous ground. What if they pulled a reverse Marty McFly and by their present actions made the past disintegrate?

Well, I'm happy to say that based on the live bootlegs and radio sessions circulating the internet, as well as the single and B-sides, we have gone back in time and it is 1995, and Brett has taken the energy he put into Coming Up and Bernard has taken the Wall of Sound he established for the pristine Sound of McAlmont & Butler album and they've found the natural step that would have followed Dog Man Star had they stayed together. Lest you mistake this as saying it sounds like some kind of dated nostalgia, it doesn't. The music of The Tears sounds more fresh and new then when Suede debuted in 1992. Given the current karaoke-stylings that are all over the radio, The Tears sound more pure and energized and are very much of the present than the new bands half their age.

Hyperbole? Yes. True and correct? Affirmative.

"Refugees" clocks in under three minutes, and it's like a tornado of sound. Bernard's guitar swirls and dips in front of a string section, backed by a hard-hit drumbeat and Spectorish sleigh bells. Brett has written one of his classic "me and you in love against the world" anthems, and if this music and these people don't make you feel young and alive, then I will personally help you find your burial plot, because you need to lie down, you look tired and peeked.

Of the B-sides, only "Feels Like Monday" sticks in the big-riff vein. It's got a day-of-the-week chorus, which I made fun of Morrissey for on "I Have Forgiven Jesus," but it's so right on here. "On Friday, well, I hatched a plan / On Saturday I wrote it down / I wrote it on my filthy hand to tell you it's over on Sunday / And now it feels like Monday." We also get treated to Anderson's fractured poetry ("my heart bleeds like a dee-vorce-ee"), high-pitched cooing, and the signature Bernard Butler pre-chorus chug.

The rest of the B-sides are moody and quiet, reminding us of the mythic Bs of yore (think "The Big Time," "The Living Dead," "High Rising"). "Southern Rain" is a gentle ballad of contentment in loneliness, of moving on from a severed relationship. It's sad while also cleansing. "Branded" sounds like doom and speaks of a prevailing despair in a consumer culture while steel and acoustic guitars fight it out with the tinkling piano that serves as rhythmic backbeat. "Break Away" is an updated version of "To The Birds" (Suede's own "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out") with Brett once more casting two lovers in an escape fantasy. In his world, we are all essentially alone against larger forces that can crush us ("this world is an apple rotting slowly/ other people are cattle dying lonely", but somehow by standing together, any two of us can beat it, can get away and find something more meaningful. Bernard backs him up on the piano again, wrapping it in swaths of ocean waves. It's otherworldly, reaching a crescendo that sounds like a spaceship launching. We are away.

It's a bit unfair of me to stack the new work up against the old so much, as any artist is going to view their latest endeavor as different from the last. The Tears are a different concern than Suede, with different goals, a different purpose--and yet, in the overall work of these two men, of Brett Anderson and Bernard Butler, it's of one piece. I've written before of growing with artists, of getting behind them on their path and following them to where they want to go, and I can think of no better example than the transition of this songwriting duo from their past glory to their current triumph. It's so rare to see this kind of creative magic remain so solid. If only more of our favorite people could figure out how to do it.

Current Sountrack: The Tears, "Refugees" singles and BBC performances

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2005 Jamie S. Rich

Saturday, April 23, 2005


Portland is in the midst of the first ever Wordstock convention this weekend. It's a five day event focusing on literature, with an exhibitors hall and reading stages. There are also big "pay to see" events like Norman Mailer.

The exhibitors seemed to be mainly from the Northwest, and outside of some of the more arty small presses like Tin House and the PIPE Group, I wasn't all that impressed. It seemed like a lot of self-help and crap about mountaineering. I felt very out of place. Even browsing the selections at the reading areas for Powell's and Borders, I was wondering where the hell I fit in. I feel like I am almost too normal to be writing modern fiction. I'm not interested in oddball hooks or extreme tragedy. "It's about a one-legged male prostitute who falls for a transgender breast cancer survivor!" That's just not me, but it seems like what sells.

Ironically, the one event I did want to see (after my friend Bart King's presentation for The Big Book of Boy Stuff), was the reading by Wesley Stace (the music artist John Wesley Harding; and now that we know his real name is Stace, it brings new meaning to his album The Confessions of St. Ace) from his book Misfortune, about gender-bending in the 1800s. But it's more Tristram Shandy than exploitative crap like The Station Agent (to mix a movie in my analogy). For some reason I got nervous when having him sign Misfortune and giving him a copy of Cut My Hair, and I think I ended up sounding like a lunatic. If you happen to see him, apologize for me. I was the guy in the suit with the red and black striped tie. They probably put Cut My Hair in a tank and sprayed it with hoses to make sure it wasn't a bomb.

One thing that did strike me as I stood at the trolly station listening to the soundtrack to 2046 and thinking of my next novel, They Are All In Love, is that I do maybe have more in common with my hero Wong Kar-Wai than I was giving myself credit for. Writing the synopsis of The Everlasting was a strange experience because it doesn't have the kind of big capital-P plot that creative writing classes and writing magazines push at us. It's not about that. It's a series of moments strung together, the moments that comprise how we relate to one another. A plot is formed when they are put together, but you don't always have the obvious Conflict-Complication-Resolution basics. It feels like I'm walking a fine line when I go out to sell it, though, since you sell it on the basics--like a synopsis. I wish things operated on the simple concept of "Just read it, you'll get into it."

Still, one soldier's on. After all, I'd rather feel like the oddball. Belonging is so boring.

Current Sountrack: Brian Jonestown Massacre, Tepid Peppermint Wonderland: A Retrospective disc 2

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2005 Jamie S. Rich

Friday, April 22, 2005


Just about anything you read regarding proper conduct for writers when contacting editors and publishers will tell you not to pour out your personal story in your cover letter. For instance, no one really needs to know that you are currently bagging groceries while dreaming of literary success. I had someone try to pull that on me once, saying I was the only one who could save them from this fate. It didn't make the person's work any better.

Any similar descriptions of, say, a physical ailment would also be met coldly. Everybody's got problems, and prospective employers aren't going to be guilted into hiring someone whose work they don't enjoy.

So, how is it that I can be sent a rejection letter that begins like this: "Please forgive this form rejection letter. Personally I loathe the things and would never willingly use one. However, I have developed Carpal Tunnel Syndrome which may require surgery and am no longer able to write the personal notes to authors which is my usual custom."

What the hell? Personally, a form rejection letter doesn't bother me one bit, but I hate seeing someone on the other side indulge in behavior that would likely get my submission tossed in the garbage. And it really just makes me feel more odd about the experience than anything. Like I made this person's life difficult by asking them to move my manuscript from the envelope it arrived in to the one they sent it back in. Not only does my work suck, but I'm a schmuck, too! Thanks!

Current Soundtrack: John Wesley Harding, Here Comes The Groom


Four Letter Worlds, bless its little heart, got chosen as the best of the week by Randy Lander over at the Fourth Rail. Read the review here.

The "Fate" section gets singled out, which includes me. Snippet: Chynna Clugston delivers what may be the sweetest, most romantic thing she's ever written (and drawn) in "Anew," Jamie Rich brings his acerbic wit and cynical point-of-view to a tale of lying that could only have been drawn by Andi Watson in "True" and Antony Johnston and Mike Hawthorne had me laughing out loud with a couple of marketing guys trying to upsell the embodiment of fate on some new image enhancements.

Me? Acerbic?

This week has me tuckered out. We've been laying I Was Someone Dead to rest, and I've been fussing about with submission packages for The Everlasting, including writing a more detailed synopsis because you never know when you'll need such things. It's actually a pretty interesting process for reacquainting yourself with your book after a break. It's making me more aware of some of the things I've done.

Current Sountrack: Brian Jonestown Massacre, Peel Sessions collection (available on their website; but donate money if you take it!)

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2005 Jamie S. Rich

Wednesday, April 20, 2005


In comics shops today: Four Letter Worlds.

Featuring "(T For) True" by myself and Andi Watson. The new DVD of Orson Welles' F For Fake is in stores next week. I will be writing a column for "Can You Picture That?" comparing my story and the movie, which I have never seen. Should be interesting.

The book also contains stories by my colleagues Chynna Clugston, Matt Fraction, Jamie McKelvie, B. Clay Moore, J. Torres, Scott Morse, Antony Johnston, and more!

Current Sountrack: Manic Street Preachers, "God Save The Manics" download EP

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2005 Jamie S. Rich

Friday, April 15, 2005


Death to Oregon.

I'm ashamed to live here. This is what we expect from states we make fun of.

Shouldn't we be worrying a little more about the hate we engender than looking for love we can squash?

Current Sountrack: Gorillaz, Demon Days

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2005 Jamie S. Rich

Thursday, April 14, 2005


I wrote up the following for the Oni Press message board, in response to a question sparked by my interview with Ian Shaugnessy. It seemed worth posting here, since I already had it ready to go:

Jamie's crash course in the Novella:

Length is a determining factor, but not the only determining factor. In fact, the first novella, The Decameron, runs over 600 pages in my edition. Length often comes into play simply because the other determining factors in the study of novellas are things that can be found elsewhere. It ends up being a rather elusive form, nebulous and difficult to define.

Some of the less definable elements:
1. A sense of the fantastic
2. A vehicle for philosophical discussion (i.e. Faulkner's "The Bear")
3. A story that is purely symbolic (Hemingway's The Old Man & The Sea)
4. Writing itself as a matter of introspection (Philip Roth's The Ghost Writer)

Elements of structure and technique:
1. A compressed focus
a. details limited to the scene at hand
b. time, characters, and setting are isolated from the world outside the plot.
2. Repetition of events/themes for impact
3. The appearance of being grounded in reality while really being in fantasty, often relating back to the first section of this outline with stories as fables, or as a journey into the mind (Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness).

Boccaccio, Hemingway, and Conrad are the most strongly referenced in I Was Someone Dead, but in addition to those listed above, when I was originally working on this project (which in college was connected to a larger paper, the outline of which I keep at hand), I also really liked Solzhenitsyn's One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and Melville's Billy Budd.

Quite some time ago, on the original Oni board, I advocated that comics get more in line with literary terms. It was after reading James Sturm's The Golem's Mighty Swing, which I felt was more like a novella than a graphic novel. Scott Morse also has called Visitations a graphic novella, which I think is spot on.

I should also mention that one of the people who was most influential on me as far as looking at the multi-tiered structure of stories was Dr. Charles May, author of Fiction's Many Worlds. It's a marvelous critical anthology with some great stories and analysis. The "new" price is scary, but you can buy used ones pretty cheap. He's mentioned on the dedication page for I Was Someone Dead.

I used to have a T-shirt that said "Novella Fella" on the front. It was given to me by some friends from my teenage years that were making fun of my high-minded goals. It was, for me, the final sign that we had grown apart. But, I wore it all the time...only backwards, because on the back they had put "Mr. Asshole."

Current Sountrack: Morrissey, Live at Earls Court; John Wesley Harding, Why We Fight

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2005 Jamie S. Rich

Wednesday, April 13, 2005


I Was Someone Dead and myself are also featured in this week's online newsletter of Brave New World Comics.


It's in the "Dear Atom" section, which is down the page. Atom is one of the cool guys at BNW, and he answers letters from fans and hype-seekers alike.

For those who don't know, Brave New World is a great shop in Newhall, CA.

Current Sountrack: Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, B-Sides & Rarities disc 2

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2005 Jamie S. Rich

Tuesday, April 12, 2005


There is a new interview with me on the Oni site as part of Ian Shaugnessy's "Squeal Like A Pig" column. It's mainly to talk about I Was Someone Dead, but you know me. I talk too much, and we pretty much went all over the place.

The book is still not on Amazon, which pisses me off, but I understand it's being taken care of. What is on Amazon, though, is Four Letter Worlds, which is on its way to shops now. So, order yours, and read my short story with Andi Watson. (The shipping estimate will likely go down as supplies arrive.)

Current Sountrack: Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, "The Girl at the Bottom of my Glass;" The Tears archived session on BB6

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2005 Jamie S. Rich

Wednesday, April 06, 2005


I hate a lot of the accepted myths about writers, largely because they seem to establish an image of a writer as a slovenly basket case who suffers every moment of his life. You know, one must bleed to write well, writing is painful. Even worse than the image this creates of the lifestyle is how these misconceptions end up being excuses used by people struggling with the profession to indulge themselves in bad behavior. I have no patience for that, and expressing that impatience is likely going to be wholeheartedly disagreed with and make me unpopular with inkslingers everywhere; however, as we know, I have a cat, so my life is pretty much full of as much petulance as I need. Regardless, there is a place to leave comments below, so mewl and cry all you like. I may also just be strange and full of shit. I was once asked how I avoid missing deadlines, and the only answer I could give was, "I just don't." I have attitude problems.

The granddaddy of the myths is "writer's block." I often wonder if this is a syndrome created by publishers of how-to manuals and writing magazines to give themselves fodder for more books and articles to sell to unsuspecting suckers, like laxative manufacturers slipping clogging agents into popular food stuffs or greeting card companies cooking up even more fake holidays. Unfortunately, writers seem to love to perpetuate this stereotype as much as anyone. When was the last time you read a book or saw a movie with a writer protagonist who was humming along through his third novel, enjoying the process of creation?

I don't believe in writer's block. Sure, sometimes, the work goes easier than others, but in what occupation does that not happen? No writer is ever without something to write, not when there is another lame story about a writer with nothing to write about waiting to be birthed. I wish I remembered where it was, but I once read an article that posited that writer's block was a purely western syndrome, a creation of a spoiled class of people who didn't really rely on wordsmithing to put food on their tables (kind of like how people used to be just tired, and now they get chronically fatigued). This makes a certain amount of sense to me. I've always looked at lamentations about blocks as excuse-making to avoid work. Sadly, I only had this reinforced as a comic book editor. Artists have the same approach to work avoidance, along with a sister excuse of, "I got bored drawing the same characters." I usually translated it in my head to mean "Dorritos and Playstation." (Truth be told, most editors don't want to hear or care about your excuse, regardless of what it is, regardless of its validity. They just want to know when. Think about it. Could you not show up for a 9-to-5 job because you "didn't feel like it"? Or would you expect your boss to excuse your not coming in due to all the various and elaborate obstacles occurring in your life? You'd still have to report for duty, or use some banked sick time at the very least. You don't have that luxury in a freelance world.)

I think writer's block walks hand-in-hand with that other bogeyman, The Blank Page. Hacks love to talk about the fear of approaching a solid white wasteland that is the first page of a new story. Are they serious? The first page is exciting, it's the beginning of an adventure. I've always found getting started easy. It's only after the initial rush that ideas may run out of steam. If you're sitting down and staring at a screen and you don't know what you want to write about, get up until you have something. Maybe it's because I am a slow and laborious writer anyway, but I can't remember the last time I actually entered into anything without first having spent a good chunk of time mulling over my ideas. Ideas percolate, ripen, and then present themselves as the next in line. And in the times I've been asked to pitch something and opened a document and started at scratch, I just threw ideas around, pushed the words across the page, and had fun with it. It's only when you give that page some kind of mythic stature as a killer does it ever take on any kind of gruesome power.

Again, you're making getting started a chore just to avoid doing the real thing. It's better to just dig in and carve out some paragraphs you're going to throw away than toss yourself on your bed and bemoan your sorry lot in life.

Of course, it goes without saying that every writer is different. Some may struggle with the development process more than ones who find ideas come quick but for whom the execution takes longer. I am terrible at rewrites, for instance, largely because I am so laborious when it comes to thinking over what's in my stories. I literally spent half my life on one scene in The Everlasting, rewriting it over and over in my head. I came up with it when I was sixteen and have been holding onto it, re-examining it, and I was pretty secure with it when I finally committed it to paper. When something isn't working, though, the common advice just about any writer will give you is to keep going, keep whacking at it, even if it means moving on to something else. Neal Shaffer wrote of a recent incident where his work was moving slower than he desired, so he changed his tack and did something he doesn't normally do. This reboot made him productive while his mind sorted out whatever was causing the other project to stall. It's a good trick.

The concept of burnout is also not lost on me. Just like any other job, if you have a period of real intense work, it can deplete your energies and a break will be in order. The same can be said for the completion of a long-term project. I find work-for-hire can be one of the leading causes of such a burnout. There was one point when I was doing some ghostwriting for a novel based on a television property, and I spent many long nights writing my assigned chapters after working in the Oni office all day. I was wasted by the time the project was finished and had no desire to take on anything like it with any speed.. And hearkening back to comic book artists, chaps like Brian Hurtt and Mike Hawthorne who have worked on simultaneous monthly assignments, both penciling and inking themselves, can be forgiven if they eventually hit a wall of fatigue and need to dial it back. As much as constant work builds up your artistic muscles, you do have to pull away to recharge now and again.

I was eavesdropping on a conversation between two young screenwriters (I prefer to stand outside the cage rather than feed the animals directly), and these kinds of subjects came up. One conversant said, "I asked [an established screenwriter] if it ever gets easier, and he said, 'Sure. With the aid of alcohol.'"

Oh, dear. The drunk writer cliche. Ho-hum. Just because Charles Bukowski was a functional alcoholic doesn't mean you'll be one, too. And Bukowski only really had about five different poems anyway, so it was no real trick to recycle them. If you look at the trajectory of any of the famous drunks, like Fitzgerald or Hemingway, it didn't make it easier for them, it only made it harder as their brains became soaked through and their fingers turned to mush. Try writing while soused as an experiment, and I guarantee you that you'll churn out gobbledygook. Or think about the times you came home blitzed out of your mind on a Friday night and e-mailed cute girls. How poetic were you then?

Now, coffee on the other hand.... I wish there was a way to write it off on my taxes.

In the end, I think most of these misconceptions are born out of fear. If you can't start, or if you get stuck halfway through, you never have to finish, and if you never have to finish, you never have to run the risk of the work being bad. The terrible prose of an unfinished novel, for instance, can always be explained away because the book isn't done, it's still rough. After you type "The End," however (or more accurately, "# # #"), there is no way around judging it. If that prospect scares you, than you really have to ask yourself why you bothered showing up in the first place. If you didn't come to party, then why the hell did you come here?

Current Sountrack: Garbage, Bleed Like Me

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

Tuesday, April 05, 2005


The fine ghosts over at Spookoo have haunted my house yet again and updated my website. Look for up-to-date info in the following sections:

Current Projects
Other Writing
Comic Book Work

Current Sountrack: Nancy Sinatra, Lightning's Girl: Greatest Hits 1965-1971

Saturday, April 02, 2005

CRIME & THE CITY SOLUTION, part IV: the finale

(Part I) (Part II) (Part III)

For the final weekend of Noir City, I was only going to be able to see one movie, due to previous engagements. I was slightly disappointed because I hadn't seen any of the three scheduled, but such is life. Tonight's was to be Union Station (1950), which I was curious about because I edited a great book at Oni with the same title. The stories bear no relation, as the film is set in Chicago and the Ande Parks/Eduardo Barreto graphic novel is based on real events in Kansas, but it would still be interesting to compare.

Unfortunately, the print arrived damaged and they were unable to show it, so they replaced it with an advance screening of what was to be Sunday's offerring, Born To Kill (1947), directed by the fantastic Robert Wise. I wish it had been tomorrow's film, The Killer that Stalked New York (1950), because it has never been available on video and Born To Kill is going to be in this summer's second Warner Bros. film noir box...but again, such is life.

Born To Kill is a melodramatic thriller about two people who are both pursuing the quick buck by marrying a rich spouse. They have an instant attraction to one another, as rotten attracts rotten, but things start to go wrong when Sam (Lawrence Tierney) decides to go after Helen's sister. Helen (Claire Trevor) knows that Sam killed two people just before they met, and she doesn't want to see her sister meet the same fate. When she's being totally honest, she also admits she wants Sam for herself. What results is a plot where they push and pull one another. Who will expose who? How far will they go to keep their secrets?

The movie was stolen by two bit players. First, Esther Howard as the bug-eyed, beer-loving landlord Mrs. Kraft. She plays it to the hilt, cackling and howling, swilling her drinks. It's a hysterical performance. The second is Walter Slezak as a private detective. On his search for answers, he gets doors to open for him through a self-deprecating wit and a penchant for verbose quotes from high-brow sources. He made me think of Peter Ustinov in Spartacus: charming even while he's extorting you for money; well aware of how he's perceived and willing to exploit it.

After the movie, it was the Ash show at the Crystal Ballroom. It was a radio concert, part of a series for breaking new bands called "I Saw Them When." Well, I first saw Ash ten years ago, so I guess for me it's "I Saw Them When Minus Ten." The Bravery were the other half of the bill, but I wasn't really too excited for them. They have about three decent songs on an otherwise lacklustre album. Our assumption was that they were the opening band, and all the promotion suggested as much, but Ash came on after the rather dismal opening act, Alaska! My guess is that since The Bravery has been getting more airplay, someone switched the order. Shades of when Suede headlined a co-tour with The Cranberries back in 1993, when "Linger" took off, and suddenly some towns started switching it up. How many shades of wrong is that?

Regardless, Ash rocked. They played a loud set of tunes dating all the way back to "Jack Names The Planets." Tim Wheeler was in fine form, jumping around the stage and tossing his guitar all over the place. And Charlotte Hatherley is, as always, too cool. Plus, we got to leave early, because, really, fuck The Bravery, you know?

And best of all, while I was dancing, I realized that I was the old fart at the rock show, and I was going to look like an ass regardless of what I did, so I had the freedom to dance however the hell I wanted. Take that you fucking college brats! I might even bump into you if I feel ornery enough!

Current Sountrack: Oasis, "D'You Know What I Mean?" EP, "Lyla" radio rip; Natalie Imbruglia, "Troubled by The Way We Came Together," Counting Down The Days

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich

Friday, April 01, 2005


April is upon us. I play no trick on you, as I know just being near me makes you realize that you are a fool, because I am so much more special than you. Why rub it in, you know?

Anyway, I paid the rent today, and am going through my favorite ritual of flipping all of my calendars, and I have another list of films to recommend in my capacity as an employee at an independently owned video store. This month, I started off thinking of doing something with the British kitchen sink dramas, and then extended it to include other generations, one that was the group supplanted by the young men of the kitchen sink-era (Tunes of Glory) and one that featured kids that came at the tail end, who were railing agains the system in their own way (Quadrophenia), and made after the fact. And with Darling I made sure the girls got some representation.

So, here's the list:

* Darling, starring Julie Christie, dir. John Schlesinger

* Look Back in Anger, starring Richard Burton, dir. Tony Richardson

* Quadrophenia, a spin-off of the Who album, with Phil Daniels

* Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, starring Albert Finney, dir. Karel Reisz

* Tunes of Glory, starring Alec Guinness, dir. Ronald Neame

I had originally intended to include A Taste of Honey, and in fact it was the film that made me want to start this list, but another employee got their picks in before I did and had it as one of theirs, so I replaced it with Look Back in Anger, since they share the same director.

Also, rather than Tunes of Glory, I was going to include Trainspotting, and go all the way forward, but it was a recent selection in a Trilogy feature of the month and I thought it was too soon to recommend it again. You can consider them both alternates.

Current Sountrack: Kaiser Chiefs, Employment

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2004 Jamie S. Rich