viscera

boy howdy, but it’s been a busy week.
on Tuesday (I think?) Fu Manchu came through town. my brother called me up.
“dude, guess who’s playing at the Black Cat.”
“I don’t know. who?”
“the Fu!”
the first thing I thought was Foo Fighters. the second the thing I thought was why would my brother call me up to tell me about the goddamn Foo Fighters? so I said, “who?”
“the Fu! Fu Manchu.”
I dropped everything. the rest of the day in the office was a total waste, I got nothing done. I made the poor Davidson graduate who’s unfortunate enough to share an office with me listen to “Hotdoggin.'” what are the odds that she got It?

that night, Aarti and I met at a restuarant in Dupont that served an entirely vegan menu. holy shit! I bet you think that such a menu sounds awful, because, I don’t know … people reflexively dislike vegetarianism in the same way that they don’t like the French and think Obama’s a muslim. I hate the French as much as the next guy, but that doesn’t mean my eggplant ratatouille wasn’t totally boss. for an entirely vegan offering, it’s pretty filled out and is worth your time.
Aarti went with me to the show. we rode our bikes and locked them in front of the club because that’s how we do in the city, paid too much to get in, and watched Fu Manchu rip through a set in about 75 minutes. they didn’t say much, save introduce the songs. stuff like “this one’s called ‘Cyclone Launch.'”
the guy in front of us, wearing cut-off jeans, Chuck Taylors and an In-N-Out t-shirt, carrying a paunch and showing male pattern baldness, represented the crowd nicely: it was almost entirely male, white and middle-aged. and there was a mosh pit. Aarti wanted me to get in it. but I am not of the disposition to try that shit any longer.
I love Fu Manchu. or, I loved three or four albums they put out between 1995 and 2000, and I loved the absence of pretension that came with their music. they like fuzzed-out guitars, pinball, tricked-out vans, skateboarding, reefer (obviously) and the beach. just about every song they’ve ever written has thirty seconds of extended jamming (see the 1:30 mark here). but everybody gets old, and the experience loses its edge. I think that’s the last time I’ll see Fu Manchu live.

tonight, because Aarti is out of town and I was a combination of antsy and lonely, I went and saw a late showing of “Centurion.” it blew. let me tell you why:
I have now seen three movies directed by Neil Marshall. the first was “Dog Soldiers,” which was about a squad of British commandos getting chased through the Scottish highlands by werewolves. they’re picked off, one by one.
the second one was “The Descent,” about spelunkers who get lost in the wrong North Carolina cave. it was admittedly pretty good through its first half, as the tension and claustrophobia builds, and then they run into humanoid creatures that want to eat them and they’re picked off, one by one.
“Centurion” sucks, because, you bet, it features a small ensemble cast that’s being hunted by an antagonist that picks  them off, one by one. this one’s set in the Scottish highlands as well, just 2,000 years earlier. and there’s even a scene where someone gets the tendons in their leg cut and are left for dead, just like in “The Descent.”
so he borrows scenes, hooray! but while this one doesn’t lack unorigionality or excess viscera, it certainly lacks a coherent plot.  and I don’t even know why these Roman Legionairres are running all over Britain! and why do the Roman suits want to fuck over the entire legion? and why is the cinematography be so good, and everything else so bad? why was the best thing about going to the movies tonight the Reese’s Pieces? and why can’t I watch shitty movies for a living? why?

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