A few weeks ago I bedded down in a cheap motel where there were holes in the walls, a peculiar red-brown stain on the bed's boxspring, and a remote control that was mucked up with some kind of filmy goo (I wouldn't even touch it with my bare hands).

I'm not picky though; I'll sleep pretty much anywhere so long as there aren't any apparent bugs or rodents. I've slept on floors, in cars -- and in motels even dodgier than the one I described. But I may just draw the line at the Howard Johnson in Bremerton, Washington. (Don't go by HoJo's official site however; their photos make the Bremerton hotel look pleasant, acommodating, almost pretty.)

(via HotelChatter)

i'm tired. stayed up late last night watching an obscure mid-'60s screwball callled john goldfarb, please come home. i can't tell whether it was hilarious, brain-bogglingly awful, or just brain-boggling (exhibit a: william peter blatty of exorcist fame wrote the screenplay).

goldfarb (richard crenna) got his nickname, "wrong way," because of his terrible sense of direction, and when his u2 spy plane lands in the middle east instead of the ussr, well... this way lies comedy gold. peter ustinov plays the peter sellers part, the silly-accented, eccentric, boundlessly hyperactive leader of a small country. shirley maclaine is shirley maclaine, appearing as one of ustinov's harem girls (she'd go on to play hookers in sweet charity and irma la douce). but wait!! she's actually an undercover american journalist on assignment!!

then there's (exhibits b, c, d, ad nauseam) gonzo arabian-rules football, and bellydancing, and toy trains, and jim backus, and jerry orbach, and harry morgan, and borderline-racist middle-east stereotypes that are so dated now you might as well go ahead and laugh cuz you're laughing at the movie as much as with it.

director j. lee thompson has the best filmography ever: the guns of navarone. the original cape fear. conquest of the planet of the apes. BATTLE for the planet of the apes. death wish 4: the crackdown. the man's a real professional, a wizard, a true hack.

can you see why i didn't sleep? damn fox movie channel, putting all the good stuff on at the worst times.

New set of pictures up at my photolog, Beatniks Looking For Tourists. (If you're wondering, the name was cribbed from a song title by Hyped to Death favorites Chemicals Made From Dirt. They're like Pere Ubu with the cantankerous art-damage and Theoretical Girls with the good education. But less devolved. More smart-alecky suburban, like the Angry Samoans or something.)

Paris Hilton in actually being pretty cute as a teenager shockah!!

Dunno whether I'm "erroneous," "bizarre," or "occasionally illuminating," but I'm in good company here.

Tell your friends, mark your calendars, and reset your watches: Fluxblog has moved!

My road trip photos are up on a new photolog I've started called Beatniks Looking For Tourists. Pics were taken with a Canon PowerShot A75, many of them from a moving vehicle. (Update: Blogger is being flaky. You may get a "not found" on some of the links. If this happens to you, go to the main page instead.)

West via Amtrak: The Lake Shore Limited from NYC to Chicago, and the Southwest Chief to Los Angeles. Part 1 in a series of 4.

Los Angeles to Tucson, Arizona. Part 2 in a series of 4.

Arizona to New Mexico. Part 3 in a series of 4.

Albuquerque, NM -> Flagstaff, AZ -> Californy bound. Part 4 in a series of 4.

Via Ishbadiddle: Ted Rall's syndicated op/ed piece "Confessions of a Cultural Elitist." Can't say I agree with all of it (ahem, hello, college towns? Chicago? Minneapolis? Fuckin' Tucson??) but I agree with enough of it to warrant linking it here. (Also, the election was rigged.)

Charles Grodin has long been one of my favorite Hollywood antiheroes -- the perpetual lonely guy who'll never get noticed because he's ultimately too much of a meek, lone-voice-of-sanity-in-the-wilderness Charlie Brown type. He hasn't done a movie for a while, and there's no place for him in cable news anymore, but he thrives off-off-off-off-Broadway (in layman's terms: San Francisco), as the author of a new play about what it's like to be a meek, lone-voice-of-sanity-in-the-wilderness Charlie Brown type serving on the co-op board of an exclusive Manhattan apartment building. No word yet on possible east coast performances, but I'd go see it even if he was forced to put it on in the living room of his (privately owned) house in Connecticut.

This is beautiful and exactly the sort of project I want to undertake once I can afford a spiffy high-end camera. (via Satan's Laundromat)

Road trip aborted. Chris was having car trouble, and on top of that, my grandma passed away (may she rest in peace; she just turned 98 a few days ago). I'm very very sad about all of this, but I don't want to bum you out. Instead, I'll concentrate on the parts of the trip that actually did happen -- my cross-country rail adventures, and the car ride from Los Angeles through the southwest. Photos are currently being photoshopped and uploaded in both the JBR and CKB camps. Mine will be available for viewing within the next couple of days.

For now, here's a picture of Chris taking a picture (to make music to take drugs to):

I'm off to begin Road Trip '04 (aka Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Entrails), and spend some good time pondering the fates. I'll try to post from the road, maybe put up a few pictures (either mine or CKB's, or both). Wish us well, and we'll see you when we see you!

"You must remember this, a kiss is still a
kiss". Your romance is Casablanca. A
classic story of love in trying times, chock
full of both cynicism and hope. You obviously
believe in true love, but you're also
constantly aware of practicality and societal
expectations. That's not always fun, but at
least it's realistic. Try not to let the Nazis
get you down too much.


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