Manhattan

Every time that I log into this account I get all sheepish, typing in my login slash e-mail whatever rocknrollanoah. It's a holdover from older times, you know, and though I've grown very attached to it I sometimes wonder what people think looking at it.

Finally got around to watching Manhattan tonight. I'm absolutely in love with Woody Allen movies, at least the movies from his earlier period (forgive him his later period work, I beg you); the dialogue is just so tight and witty and it has that completely unrealistic quality of reality that really only exists in movies. Watching Woody Allen and Diane Keaton fall in love on screen is always so exciting- they have a very unique chemistry that makes me one hundred percent okay with them having their relationship over a whole slew of films.

The soundtrack was phenomenal, Gershwin throughout. Usually I'm not the sort that would even discuss the soundtrack but recently I've found myself listening more- maybe I'm getting better at watching movies.

The girl who plays Tracy in the movie, no one big, just, you know, Mariel Hemingway. It's strange though, women in movies I mean; Mariel Hemingway became really quite attractive but at the age of something young that she was for Manhattan she's a sort of face you don't see in movies anymore. Like Shelley Duvall, a good actress with a very unique look, attractive on some level that is definitely not the mainstream. It's disheartening. Today I look at movies and I see woman all in some degree of the popular aesthetic and I can't help but wonder where all the original actors went.

God bless Laura Linney, I guess.

yours,
Noah J.

Pornography

This would be my... second blog? Third? One way or another, I've left a couple of them trailing in the dust. I've been trying to sort out for a while what the point of blogging is; I don't want to be another web diary, endlessly noting the inanities of my daily life, demanding that people care, weeping nightly at my empty comment spaces.

I did that anyway for a long while, and I have had quite enough of that thank you very much and yet the horrifying urge to blog remains, so I might as well make it interesting, at the very least.

So anyhow, pornography.

Now, I understand completely that I'm not everybody and there is certainly no universal truth to be said about people, except perhaps the constantly dreary presence of Death hovering over our collective shoulder, but I feel relatively safe saying that men watch more pornography than women, and it's quite likely that I watch more pornography than the rest of the men in my apartment.

Let me clarify.

I'm an English major, which means that not only will no one hire me, I also find delight in analyzing the living fuck out of any thing that jumps around in my periphery, waving its hands about for attention, be it video games or movies or music or the lunatics that I refer to charmingly as friends, little escapes my overpowering desire to intellectualize, and picking apart their every facet has become as compulsory as eating. Porn, for me as for so many others, began as a supplement to masturbatory impulses and it served that purpose just fine until my brain started picking up on patterns and variance and next thing you know I'm watching pornography in my downtime, puzzling over different varieties of faked orgasms and kinks and wondering what the hell it is that's up with the internet or maybe society but more importantly what the hell it is that's wrong with me.

Regardless of any hesitation I have about my newfound fascinations something in me wants to write about it. That something deep inside is crying out that a thesis on the development of fetish pornography or the mainstreaming of amateur content would be worthy and interesting. It's a tough voice to shake and it just keeps yelling. "C'mon!" it shouts, not without allure, "I'm sure it couldn't possibly backfire on you!"

Then on Craig's List I saw an ad looking for freelance writers to write reviews of adult films, and it was like a shining door lined with gumdrops suddenly appeared before me. Write reviews of adult films and get paid to do so? Phenomenal. Sign me up and do it quickly.

But a certain reluctance overtakes me, which I guess is a problem of reputation, which Iago tells me is not really of much importance but he was a tit anyhow so I guess I can throw that out the window. How can I go into this endeavor the reviewer that reluctantly and snobbishly watches porn and avoid becoming a porn obsessed pervert so overtly dedicated that he can't help but write six paragraph diatribes on breasts?

What? I don't know either.

yours
Noah J.