Four tiny extracts from an immense, and immensely wonderful, remembrance.
According to Chandler, pulp mystery fiction told of a world where the streets were dark with something more than night, and some of its readers thought the shortest distance between two points was from a blonde to a bed.
He called it “surf-bathing,” and tried to pick it up from the Hawaiians, with little success. Also includes a link to a NYT article about Twain’s time in Hawaii.
[Above, Marina Abramovic and her posse dare the ocean to hit them with its best shot.]
Our City Dreams chronicles the careers and lives of five female artists, now based in New York City, who have been drawn there by everything the city represents — all its chaos, romance, and the advantages of being at the center of the [...]
Franzen quotes DeLillo; then I spot a great NYC bookstore in the jacket photo.
People have a low opinion of philosophy these days, what with its reputation for being at once futile and irrelevant. So the premise of Astra Taylor’s film, The Examined Life, almost sounds like a bad joke: eight contemporary philosophers holding forth on their views for ten minutes each? Real compelling cinema, that.
But whether by [...]
Everybody’s favorite spirits critic puts it nicely at the NYT:
[I'm neither] disingenuously oblivious [n]or unappreciative of alcohol’s chemical side. When I sit at a local bar and sip a Last Word or a Toronto Cocktail, I enjoy the slow suffusion of warmth and the language-loosening properties of drink that enable a preternaturally shy person like [...]
JEREMYHATCH.COMConsisting of four blogs, wherein I write about the three arts in San Francisco that interest me most: film, words, and images. The fourth blog contains my public notes on other stuff.
Contact me, read my other work, learn about more great websites, subscribe, or look something up in the index.
Thank you for visiting.
