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Tough Talk - 7 |
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Now Johnny's a gardener.
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A feature titled "The Defining Websites Of Our Era", in the March issue of Wired reads, "Film Noir Johnny's has nuance and edge. They pack heat, they're dangerous, the women smoke and cross their legs, and it's a Fosse-dancing pleasure to behold each time I visit."
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To become The Poet of the Tango, the Tanguero must know the sadness and pain of life and be seasoned by both.
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Often I can't help but respond to it as a personal invitation, Patricia. Why resist? Name one good reason.
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The Tango Boss of Buenos A. swells and reddens with the poetry of the tango.
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The tango is a dance of stimulus-response, ritual, and secret pleasures. The swell of the violin, the piano, the bass, the bandoneon. The woman who is there to do ochos, gauchos, and boleos while being bossed.
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"White Slavery on
the Barbary Coast" is number three on the charts and rising.
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I rule the Rif and am beloved in the blue alleyways of Mazool, in the Kasbah of Al-Harresh, and all through the mountains of my country.
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The Spanish and the French fight with neither honor, nor style, nor conviction. It is not over.
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For our second date, I cooked at his apartment. He has a wood-fueled Moroccan sauna and a man from the Rif who comes in and works you over. It's more like wrestling than a massage and I've never felt anything like it. The sinewy Kabyle from
the
Rif with one tooth missing would slide down behind me and hook his ankles around mine and stretch me there on the stone floor. He wrestles you into stretching every muscle of your body and he goes on as long as you want. I wore a pair of cotton shorts, and a crop top which I wanted to take off for the maximum skin contact but didn't.
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It's Friday night and I got a big wad of cash. Music, whiskey, reefers and smiling women.
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I'm mad! Don't start me talkin', I'll tell everything I know. I'm gonna break up this signifyin', somebody's got to go.
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Too much Euro and South American.
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In the tango, the woman is never on two feet, and the lead must keep her that way. You maintain the embrace; you drive with the chest and you dance with the feet. It is a dance of engagement, not a monologue. You handle her with your frame as the lever.
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Americans such as Beth Roberts from Ohio and Helen Greer of Seattle have a severely limited aesthetic and a bourgeois concept of what is Art. The article describing Film Noir Johnny's as Art in Slate would be a good place for both of them to begin their art educations.
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Johnny just keeps getting dumber and dumber. He's in a spin.
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I too read about this site in Salon.com, but I am unimpressed. I agree with Elatu Melani and the others who find its posturing tiresome and its sensibility sophomoric and probably racist. Johnny Himself and Motorhead Art are its least attractive features. The jukebox is good, but Film Noir Johnny's is not art. I'm sorry.
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Carmen Lopez is blind to the mytho-poetic beauty of "Enemy at the Gates."
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"Enemy at the Gates" has its moments of visual beauty and the Russian/German sniper story with the seige of Stalingrad in back was rich in potential, but overall it's murdered by sappy dialogue, contrivance, and a melodramatic score. "Quest for Fire," on the other hand, by the same director, is a world classic. "Memento" will appeal to coffeehouse sophomores only.
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Johnny in the Congo is the worst, among some bad ones.
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THE MEET MEN AND HOOK UP REPORT:
I slipped into a reception on the way out of the office Friday afternoon and soon began enjoying myself, especially with the two attractive couples from Germany who were being honored. As I was leaving, I gave my card to one of the
women, and she left a voice mail yesterday morning inviting me to their hotel for drinks in the evening if I were free. I found them more interesting than my date for the night, so I blew him off and took a taxi to the Waldorf at 7:00.
After dinner, which we had sent up, it was unusual because they made me do things with both women before the five of us could get together on the big couch and over its arms. Those were the terms and I took them. I did
what they told me to do so I could get what they were making me want so badly.
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Morris Day, you got it all over Prince, but what are you thinking? Do
you think this is a funk joint?
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We're dancin'. Jungle Love.
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Big moon. Don't need no flashlight on the farm tonight.
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Tear the roof off the sucker. Give up the funk! We want the funk! Give up the funk! Gotta have the funk!
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Full Sap Moon tomorrow night and the Vernal Equinox at 8:31
a.m. on Tuesday the 20th.
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Step back, Jimmy McPartland!
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E. Mehani speaks the truth.
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There is art everywhere.
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That's what I like about you.
A band.
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Motorhead Art has no imagination. He selects the hugest cliche derriere on Earth to exhibit.
Anna Maria from Florence thinks a Car and Ass show is art.
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After reading about this site in Salon and also in Slate, I felt compelled to take a look and I am so pleased that I did. I have read each of the seven chapters and some of the Tough Talking. Do Americans have televised award presentations for Internet Art and Literature as they do for the cinema? I nominate Film Noir Johnny and wish to see his acceptance.
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Here are text and photos for Elatu Mehani from Rangoon.
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Motorhead Art is a grease monkey extending the two thematic thrusts of Johnny's. And he fills these pages with loud and busy commercial clutter.
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I have to decide between the Dodge Super 8 and the Jeep Willys. For jungle roads, Johnny doesn't need this, maybe this. What are they driving around in,
a Mehrzweckwagen?
Sunglasses and Ankle Art.
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Obnoxious words and phrases -- closure, gender, (not) what I am, go there, actually, as well, partner with.
Send nominations to OochieTangTang, who will compile a list.
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The tango is a secret danced by two. It is the dance of the remembered kisses. It is the dance of the new kisses which might erase the old kisses. It is the dance of the tested kisses.
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Witch Hazels (Hamamelis Virginiana) bloom in February in the Northeast, and the two in my back yard are filling the air with their sweet and distinctive clove-like fragrance. Their forked branches can be used as divining rods.
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I haven't slept at all. They were very firm in the way they disciplined
me last night. I feel so ashamed because after a certain point, which usually comes early, I can't stop doing it. I am sleepless and full of self-loathing here at dawn.
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Johnny! The way you wear your hat. The way your smile just beams.
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As I said, three days ago.
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The best part of this weekend was yesterday afternoon. We drove over there in
her car after having a Finnish lunch at the
Bryant Park Hotel.
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Indians, the ones from India, often keep the personality submerged, so when you talk to them you're expected to engage them at the level of their words and ideas. The American interjection of the expressive face and the personality seems unnecessary to them.
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Johnny is visiting cartoon Africa.
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I am returned once again to say "Hail to the Crime America Johnny!"
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Elatu Mehani is rarefied. She's a rarefied woman.
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They are so right. Once, Johnny's had style to burn, the story rich in nuance and grace, but now it has become a Car and Ass Show - bourgeois, adolescent, sexist, and coarse.
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It's getting dark and we're lighting up.
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I'm with Ruhollah Khomeini. He speaks for me.
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Things happened at work this week. Some of these things may affect my career, and this afternoon when I told my redheaded co-worker about them, she became forceful and showed me her displeasure.
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Bad dog! Here are the traits of the Siberian Husky: escape artist, nomad, desire to dig, burglar eyes, not quite obedient, athletic, curious.
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Spotlight on James Brown now!
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Every town I go in, there's a street, name of the street - Funky Funky Broadway. Down on Broadway, there's a night club, name of the night club - Funky Funky Broadway. Down on Broadway, there's dance step, name of the dance - Funky Funky Broadway. Do the Shing-a-Ling now baby. Shake shake shake. Do the Funky Broadway. Dirty filthy Broadway.
Stagger Lee
Stack-O-Lee
Stagolee
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Look, broads, you can tell it to this Johnny Borsalino. Tell it to him.
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I agree with Carolina and Carola Motorola. I remember when Johnny's had some style. And Motorhead Art doesn't even mention the Audi TT, the car with styling more beautiful
even than Jaguars.
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Carola Motorola speaks for me too.
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This is The Tough Talk? Fuck you, Johnny.
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Design Awards:
First - Audi Steppenwolf
Second - Chrysler Crossfire
Third - 2002 Mini Cooper
Fourth -
2002 Citroen DS-21 and four revolving Futuro Prototypes
Fifth - 2002 Thunderbird
Sixth - Cadillac Evoq
Seventh - Honda Model X
Eighth - New Nissan Z
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Bill Clinton,, free from the confines of the White House and Hillary, in a $750,000 per annum apartment/office on W. 57th looking out over Central Park. Tina Brown said he had presence and was sexy. I think I'd like to arrange an accidental encounter.
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I am Film Noir Johnny's dangerous cousin and I am here! Four years younger and twice as handsome. That's right. I wear the BH-451, Gray, 2 1/2" brim, 4 1/2" crown, size 7 5/8. Johnny Borsalino! Swoon, chix, and quiver, quim! Quivering quim!
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I had the vision, and it has become corrupt! The false language of American capitalism and American-style advertising fills the air of Earth with double talk and makes cynics of its people.
They smile. They look sharp as they lie for profit and ego. Vanity and Mammon.
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The assassination of Kabila has unleased chaos upon the entire Congo region and involves many countries, invading armies, fierce jungle battles between tough
rebel bands, and even more tribal carnage.
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Hello like before.
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Secret Addiction has also become a compulsive weekend monologuist.
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I've punished myself this weekend and haven't gone out or even taken calls since late Friday night when I got in. I told the doorman to send #3 away yesterday morning or afternoon, whatever it was. It's the hook-up and the seduction that excite me most, more than the sex itself, although I am compulsive about both. Power does it to me too - being in the presence of almost any kind of power. It isn't like I don't know what it is. For a romance, the best part is that month until you get to know each other. The best parts are always in that month.
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I hate myself and had to force myself out of bed thirty minutes ago. I must either call a professional or get high. For a shrink, I would like a nuanced man or woman of authority, early-40's to mid-50's, who would tell me what to do and then make me do it. Someone with the savvy and the power for training and discipline. #3 is supposed to be here in half an hour, and I haven't even had a shower yet. My hair is a mess.
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Like I said, you just have to play it right. It's no one's business what I do. If my fiance finds out then I'll see what he does. If he can't handle my exploring who I am, then it's his problem. This afternoon after work, I let a man, his wife, and her uncle pick me up in the front room at Grace, in Tribeca. We had tapas and
Boon Framboise at the long bar. Then the four of us took a taxi to
their apartment on E. 47th. We had dinner and drank
wine and after that we all smoked the fluffy Burmese dope I brought. We talked for a while and kind of danced around, and then, a little later, after the husband had
warmed me up, his wife made me kneel down in front of
her on the sofa. He watched us from his chair. They are very attractive. Both of them are beautiful. When I was in Italy, I went off with three men I met in a country village and I stayed with them for almost two weeks.
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Like my mother and her boyfriend were actually fighting in our living room for three hours tonight.
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Public Enemy #1. Packards and V-8 Fords.
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Restless here in the Casbah. Looking for
a way out.
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They call me Big-Time.
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"Nessun Dorma" is the hugest mass-appeal cliche in all of opera. Chimpanzees respond with enthusiasm to "Nessun
Dorma." It stops the show for them.
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I'll take anybody singing Nessun Dorma, even Sarah Brightman, over Film Noir Johnny's.
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RUE DU LEZARD.
Doorways leading
into doorways, and Gabrielle waiting in the room with the small window.
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I used to climb a tree and watch the Larrabees. Then I went to Paris. Then I came back to another new life.
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Like this, Secret Addiction?
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I'm back in the city now, but I keep thinking about Whiteface Mountain. I can't believe the things I did while I was there. I loathe myself today. Should I do something about it? Why should I? I can't think of one good reason, one that I actually believe. To tell the truth, my only real concern is what selected others will say about me. And if they don't know anything then they can't talk. I just have to play it right.
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I'll dance you into a swoon, girl.
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Duke Ellington made some nice music, he played the shimmy and the shim-sham, but he was effete and studied. He had too much going on with his mama.
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For Secret Addiction, all erections are invitations which she accepts.
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We must overlook all unpleasantness.
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They call me Hot Bustelo, evaporated milk and sugar. They call me
Big-Time.
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Slow down on the asses. Bring on some legs and the new look.
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Maybe you witnessed this on CBS, maybe you didn't. But I was there, on national television. Senior wide receiver. I caught passes for a total of 232 yards in the first half. One for 97 yards. We had a 39-point lead at the half, but when the halftime show was over the marching band refused to yield. They were doing the high step, the low step, the stutter step. They burned down the house. They took over. They owned the stadium for two solid hours, and they left the field when they felt like it.
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Coming in from the south and picking up I-79 at Charleston, West Virginia. Then shooting up through the center of the state. It's one of the great drives in America, a long low-traffic racecourse all the way to the Pennsylvania border. You can straighten the curves at high speeds for dozens of miles at a time, up long and winding inclines, across long mountaintop ridges, through dynamite-blasted rock chutes.
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Bring me in on this. The true new millenium in 12 minutes.
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Take me in your arms, rock me baby. Take me in your arms and rock your baby. Take me in your arms, rock your baby. Rock your baby. Take me in your arms and rock me. Here in your arms I've found my paradise. Please don't talk about love tonight; your sweet talk won't make it right. If we lose our love it's a shame -- ain't no reason. Don't leave me this way. I'll surely miss your tender kiss. Satisfy the need in me. Don't leave me this way, don't leave me this way, baby. Never can say goodbye, boy. No no no baby, never can say goodbye. There's no peace of mind. It's just no good, your teasing like you do.
Don't give me no reasons why, don't stop it now, don't stop
it no, don't stop it now, don't stop it no, don't stop it. Have I got news for you. You are no exception to the rule, so get on up on the floor 'cause we're gonna boogie oogie oogie 'til you just can't boogie no more. Boogie. Boogie no more. Boogie. Let's` get this show on the road. There is no exception to the rule. More more more, how do you like it, how do you like it, how do you like your love? Don't fight the feeling, give yourself a chance. Shake shake shake, shake shake shake, shake your booty, shake your booty. Do your duty. Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake your booty. If you don't want to go, remember one monkey don't stop no show. I'm goin' out and find a dancin' man. Shame shame shame, shame on you. Get your car washed. At the carwash.
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I'll groom the backcountry.
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MIRROR LAKE INN, LAKE PLACID. Smart women have a few
back-ups, a few contenders, a few men we see occasionally, away from #1. These days I have five. Two weeks ago my fiance and I had a huge fight, and a fight can be an opportunity to spend some no-guilt time with the others. So I've been here with #3 for the past two days and we've decided to stay for New Year's. It's been a wonderful time.
Vuarnet, Bogner, Tecnica, Atomic, Volkl, Head, Rossignol, Sorel, Original Sin, Nordica, Ultima Thule, Spyder, the heel-toe bootwalk, the electric warmseats in the Land Cruiser, the lift-serviced half-pipe on Whiteface and the greatest vertical drop in the East, the spa here at the Inn with its eucalyptus steam room and treatments and fitness facilities for wellness and beauty, all of it around this real town of Lake Placid.
And speaking of treatments, I got a treatment from a kman I met yesterday morning while #3 was skiing the ungroomed backcountry. We were close to the lift, bootwalking toward each other; there was some fog in the air, in the trees, and on the mountain, some light snow in the air, and I was so smitten by his rocking moves that I spilled my coffee as we passed. Instinctively, he reached to help me and somehow we ended up in the room #3 and I are sharing, ordering goose-liver pate and scrambled eggs. I should feel guilty about the things he made me do for the next hour, but I can't honestly say that I do. After all, I'd had a fight with #1, and #3 is just #3.
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Warenkorb aus Bestellung fur den Verseidenes nach sich jedes Rahmung zu beim Rubriken Profisuche L. Sackman.
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You having some trouble, Butte?
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How long did
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Get red.
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I'm gonna break up this signifyin', somebody's got to go.
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This website came highly recommended as a Five-Star Deluxe model, but it turns out to be bad writing, repetitious macho posturing, and racism. What a disappointment.
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Fog. Crime. Greed. Treachery. Handguns and contraband. Big plans. Big dreams. Big mistakes. Betrayal. Saxophone solos. High-speed escapes. Love on the run.
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I got hip to yo jive.
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And as Johnny Guitar too.
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As Jock-Walkin' Johnny Clay in
"
The Killing."
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You dropped
a bomb on me.
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Where'd these last two characters come from?
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What is the Heat You Pack entry?
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I am actually in Singapore, but I selected a name in the spirit of the American website before us. I was urfing the web and find Johnnys! Hail to the crime America Johnny!
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Film Noir Johnny's, Part Eight will be titled "The Long Story of Johnny and the Ugly Woman."
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Dear God, I thought it was over and that Johnny had finally died in a shootout. But no.
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BLUE NEON. ROUTE 19 SOUTH. The couples come and the couples go. Their behavior in the lobby takes one of only two possible forms: 1. (Less often) -- They play around, laughing and joking. 2. (Most often) -- The man takes care of business in a rather serious way, and the woman hangs back, quiet and watching. They stay for three or four hours, sometimes all night. I see many of the same people, over and over again.
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The glow from the oval nightlight down on the baseboard.
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Faded greens and blues and reds in Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai.
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She was in the barroom reading Memoirs of a Geisha. She was ignoring the men. The one she hooked up with was just curious about the quality of her book.
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The hook-up! I love the hook-up! I live for the hook-up! And yet, today, I loathe myself for the things I've been doing since Wednesday afternoon when this long weekend began. The shame and the guilt are beginning to wash over me and sink in. I came to this New Hampshire lodge for Thanksgiving instead of going back home (as I told my fiance I was doing), and an hour or so after my arrival, after a long and steamy bath, I was at a table in the barroom reading Memoirs of a Geisha. I was paying no attention to any of the men. I was ignoring them. I was very involved in my reading. And then, as an old Gap Band song, "You Dropped A Bomb On Me," came on, an attractive man approached and asked my opinion of the book. He wanted to know if he should read it. He seemed very literate and sincere, so we began talking.
To make this story brief, we hooked up and I've been his dog since then. I've hardly slept at all and he has made me do shameful things. His cruel tone and attitude have added to the excitememt I
feel, but I shouldn't allow myself to respond the way I do.
I can't stop, and he says a friend of his will be here in an hour. I loathe myself tonight.
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Look, I've told you before, stop calling and sending the e-mail and postcards about not being able to shoot it to the Tough Talk. The whole world is hooked up, it's open and working fine except for a few isolated pockets. Drop dead.
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PITTSBURGH, PA -- THE PARIS OF AMERICA. They're really rockin' in Boston, and Pittsburgh PA, deep in the heart of Texas, and 'round the Frisco Bay.
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More about dreams: My research indicates that dreams are
rarely random occurrences. They are often about the feelings and emotions that we keep hidden behind our masks of niceness, competence, amiability, etc. We must be asleep before our "unacceptable" passions and attitudes, the roots of which are usually in childhood anger at one or both parents, can emerge. Those who have life-long patterns of repressed anger and rage are also those who dream most often and most vividly.
As soon as you wake up, ask yourself what the dream was about -- try to reduce it to a phrase. This will often reveal what you have attempted to hide or bury for a lifetime. The mask you live behind is by definition a confining false face, and if the gap between the inner self and the mask is wide enough, the results are various forms of neurosis, compulsion, addiction, obsession, hypochondria, anxiety, rootlessness, and sexual promiscuity. And difficulty maintaining relationships of any depth -- sooner or later, the mask and the resulting behaviors of concealment bring them to an end.
You may reach me here for a brisk consult.
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Yo mama's black ass!
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Good God! Lord have mercy! Huhhh! Can't stand myself! Watch me! Yuh! I got it! I got the move that tells me what to do . . . and I'm super bad! Get up offa that thing! Haunhhh! Aaoooooowwwww! Sometimes I feel so nice . . . Good God! . . . I jump back! I wanta kiss myself. The Man With the High Pockets and the Good Foot! The Sex Machine of Funk! The Hardest Workin' Man in Show Business!
Mr. Dynamite
himself, James Brown!
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Nessun Dorma is greater than Night Train.
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Maria carrara piazza bolzano verona rimini fettucini portofino luca brazzi fratangelo.
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Johnny Dollar flashin' a big wad, but he got nothin' in the
bank.
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Holistic poontang got it all over holistic ginseng.
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Lana Turner looking at her criminal boyfriend and in
a rhino-hide jacket.
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The greatest bottled drink is SoBe Jing tangerine green tea in the deep-green bottle.
