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Gary: a bizarre brew of a plethora of elements
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| "and so, good night..." |
[Aug. 24th, 2006|03:35 am] |
well, kids, that's about all. Until next time!
over and out.
(love) |
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| a letter |
[Aug. 15th, 2006|02:54 am] |
Dear Friends,
For the record, I love you. I'm going to miss the shit out of you.
Sincerely,
...sincerely?
Cordially,
...cordially?
Affectionately,
Gary |
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| emotions |
[Jun. 6th, 2006|01:26 am] |
"Sweet briar and southernwood, jasmine, pink, and rose, have long been yielding their evening sacrifice of incense: this new scent is neither of shrub nor flower; it is--I know it well--it is Mr. Rochester's cigar."
stop beaming, Gary. stop it now. |
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| hm... |
[Jun. 5th, 2006|06:03 pm] |
Isn't finding your admissions officer on Facebook strange, and yet somehow exciting?
...isn't finding out that he's a member of "Gayalies" even more exciting? Aha! I knew it. Not even Yale admissions officers can get past Gary's gay-dar.
um.
anyway.
? |
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| Thornfield |
[Jun. 2nd, 2006|05:38 pm] |
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Jane, be with me. |
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| bereavement |
[May. 26th, 2006|02:12 am] |
To the sacks of shit at 20th Century Fox,
Despite what commercial rewards may result from disaster films in which some terrible occurrence such as a falling meteor or global warming threatens the world, the transformation of the X-Men franchise from a well respected, classy, exciting and poignant series to one of aforesaid disaster flicks was entirely unnecessary. Jean Grey (or the Phoenix) is not an asteroid, and the characters which surround her in the X-Universe are not 2-dimensional disaster film cannon fodder. If you backstabbing moneygrubbers believe that these characters must be reduced to cannon fodder in order to intensify the threat presented by the Phoenix, either (a) you have a dire lack of creativy or (b) no respect for the source material from which you grub your money. And if death or depowerment is truly the only way to handle a situation, then give the director and the scriptwriters enough time to handle the tragic elements properly. In art, death means nothing if it has no substance--random incinerations do not a tragedy make.
Furthermore, in response to your obvious belief that, in order to have a successful run at the box-office, a movie must follow a standard disaster film formula and must completely do away with the integrity of its source material, I would like you to please turn your eyes to your own pocket, which still runneth over from cash produced by your first two outings into the X-franchise. These films were extreme commercial successes (clearly not lacking in "mass appeal"), and yet somehow still managed to stay nearly completely true to the heart of the X-Men comic book series. Changes, of course, were made--changes that were necessary for the series to become compatible with the film medium. I assure you that transforming the X-Men franchise into a redux of disaster sensation Armageddon was completely unnecessary in regards to the "medium." Moreover, I fear that in your attempt to mass-market an already mass-marketable product, you may have completely alienated those who made the success of your product possible. If the first X-Men comic Stan Lee produced had been merely a disaster formula, do you honestly believe that countless numbers of comics, TV shows, theme park attractions and, last but not least, movies would have been produced? Stan knew better, and you should have as well.
You may ask why it is you who I point my finger at: Why not the new director? Why not the actors? I blame you because, for the most part, the movie is good. With the occasional misstep, Brett Ratner has assembled a decent and often more than decent piece of work. The problem is that this film is simply not an X-film. That was your job. As producers, you have two distinct responsibilities when it comes to franchises: make sure the product can make money and, more importantly, make sure that what it is you create will continue the integrity of its precursors. Ratner tried--he maintained and improved upon several "signatures" of the X-Men series. You, who hold the power to make important decisions about the very core aspects of a film, did not try. I can't even say you failed because, in order to fail, one must attempt. Your complete lack of any attempt whatsoever to maintain the integrity of the X-Men series is so plain to see that it really needs to elaboration.
In conclusion, I would like to congratulate you on your successful completion of what is sure to rival Armageddon and The Day After Tomorrow in the dumb disaster film arena. I would also like to congratulate you on your complete incineration, Phoenix-style, of the heart, soul and integrity of the X-Men series. You've killed the X-Men franchise with no reason. You gave us so much with the first two and now all that's left of the entire series is the dust of beloved characters--some who never even had the chance to shine onscreen but were beloved nonetheless--blowing out of your greatest fans' hands. And I can only wonder--how on earth could you have possibly gotten the first two so incredibly right and the last one so unspeakably wrong? I suppose you producers must enjoy your Godly status--surely you must take pleasure in your power to "giveth and taketh away." It's a shame, really. That's all it is--just an uncannily disheartening shame.
Cordially,
A Disillusioned Enthusiast in Possession of Both Sense and Sensibility,
Gary S. Jaffe |
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| fulfillment |
[Apr. 19th, 2006|08:40 pm] |
When he picked me up at the airport today, my dad told me that I left as a 17-year-old high school student, but came back as an 18-year-old college student.
An incredible trip.
I take little moments to reminisce on the days past...and I become breathless at the recollection. My blood is dancing. |
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| unto the breach |
[Apr. 15th, 2006|02:31 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  late night | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Sweeney Todd | ] |
Well, it's 2:30 in the morning and I've finally finished packing for my little 5-day Connecticut getaway. I've got a pile of make-up work accompanying me...will I do it? I sincerely don't know--time is a most distinct issue. As excited as I am about going, I sort of feel that right when everything in the maelstrom of second semester is swirling to a climax, I'm abandoning ship. I mean, I guess I'm not missing that much but, well, I'm used to being one of the strong hands in an operation--never one to mysteriously vanish for three important days.
...I'm thinking too much about this.
I'm just an anxious person. Anxious about everything. A worry-wart to the nth degree.
Ah well. C'est moi.
I love Dara, and can't wait to see her.
I'm so excited about Yale, and want to plunge right in--I've been dreaming about Bulldog Days since December.
And still I worry. Stupid, superfluous worries.
Stop being stupid, Gary. Go ye, cotquean, go--Get thee to bed--faith you'll be sick tomorrow! (Bonus points to the person who isn't Aviva who can name the play.)
Well, away I go, everyone! My love to all, and so long, farewell until Thursday next!
-G
PS: Hamlet is completely wrong when he says to Laertes, "Forty thousand brothers could not with all their quantity of love make up my sum." Way to miss the mark, O indecisive one. Someone clearly never had a sibling as wonderful as Dara... |
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| glass panes |
[Apr. 12th, 2006|08:53 pm] |
"The sun has set, and the long grass now
Waves dreamily in the evening wind;
And the wild bird has flown from that old grey stone,
In some warm nook a couch to find.
In all the lonely landscape round
I see no sight and hear no sound,
Except the wind that far away
Comes sighing o'er the healthy sea."
--Emily Bronte |
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| "Thou seemest human and divine" |
[Apr. 11th, 2006|12:08 am] |
Do I believe in God? Yes, I think I do.
I believe in humanity's ability to transcend humanity--to create works of brilliance unbefitting our animalistic nature. I believe in the fusion of the human brain and the human heart: I believe in art. I believe in the pursuit of human truth.
That's God, isn't it?
"Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine."
--Alfred, Lord Tennyson (In Memoriam A.H.H.) |
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| sudden realization |
[Apr. 3rd, 2006|09:49 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | XVIII??? | ] |
Wow. It just dawned on me today that I turn 18 in 15 days. That's just a day over two weeks. 18. Now, I know I'm younger than most of you kids--you who have already turned 18...but...well...if I want to get in trouble with the law and go to jail, better make it happen before the 18th! No one likes real people jail.
...18! Mein gott! I'll have to register for a draft, if there's ever to be one...
18. Hm. that's 9^2 with the numbers flipped around. it's also 9 x 2. Coincidence? I think not. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 5th, 2006|10:31 pm] |
In 1942, the Academy Award winner for Best Picture was How Green was My Valley. Also nominated that year: Citizen Kane.
Enough said. |
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| Dear Ivan, |
[Feb. 27th, 2006|05:48 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  possibly victorious | ] |
I think I've got you, you little bugger.
Cordially,
Gary
PS: It's becoming evident that you have completely lost your marbles. For help finding them, ask Tootles. He's searching for his marbles as well. |
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| manifesto |
[Feb. 25th, 2006|11:41 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  tyrannical | ] |
Black Snowers, beware. The frivolous flamboyant producer Ivan Vasilievich has been deposed. The reign of Tzar Ivan the Theatrical begins Monday. You will all become the mice you deserve to be under the toe of my iron boot. You will fear the cape. You've been warned.
(and no incompetent director is going to get in my way anymore. this character's in a mess--I'm forcing my way out.) |
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| oh hell |
[Feb. 23rd, 2006|12:06 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  nooooo! | ] |
the annual inch worm web invasion has begun. hide me. |
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| swish swish swish! |
[Feb. 22nd, 2006|07:32 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | the sound that capes make | ] |
somebody pinch me...
...my costume for Black Snow has the most AMAZING cape ever put on earth. Sylvia must be God. that, or she's been costuming me for so long that she knows exactly what I get ecstatic for costume-wise. in addition to being god.
...wow, i just realized how inordinately long I've been in this program. Sylvia's been costuming me since You Can't Take it With You. Goodness.
oh, You Can't It with you... what a great show...
in any case, my life is made. ahhh...capes... |
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| new perspective |
[Feb. 11th, 2006|03:37 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  alegria | ] |
All right, my dears, after nearly a year of the Bird of America, of Lumen Phosphor Fluor Candle, the Angel and I have decided to part ways. Her replacement is Frida Kahlo's "Viva la Vida," one of my favorite paintings of all time, a copy of which hangs in my room. The painting came to be at a time when, after years of abuse by surgeons, diseases, trolleys, etc., Kahlo's physical body was finally giving out--hacked into pieces like the melons in the picture. To ease her pain, Kahlo spent these final years in a vicious cycle of ever-intensifying drug use. Both her mind and paintbrush began faltering--the thick, precise colors Kahlo was known for gradually devolved into disparate spatterings and uncontrolled blotches. However, just before her death, Kahlo somehow managed to pull her mind and talent together for one final painting: watermelons--some sliced, some whole--against a sky both dark and bright. In the center, on a watermelon perfectly sliced for eating, she inscribed "VIVA LA VIDA." Live the life; Long live life. Kahlo's existence was a nearly continuous series of beatings and batterings, emotional and physical; yet, in her last message to the world, she declared that life is good, that life is more than worth living, and that living life fully, despite adversity, is as rewarding as a ripened watermelon on a beautiful day--vibrant with green and red and blue.
Well... Thoughts on the new userpic? Approval/Disapproval? Comments? Anything?
PS: Go see La Casa Azul--Frida's home/museum--in Coyoacan, Mexico City. The original "Viva la Vida" is there, along with her corsets, her four-poster bed, her library, her letters, many of her other paintings...etc. It's very inexpensive and very beautiful. Coyoacan is actually a really nice part of the city--old Spanish colonial--and is nicer-smelling and safer than the rest of Ciudad de Mexico.
PPS: the Angel's still in my userpics, if you miss her.
PPPS: Have you noticed how extremely enthusiastic I get about certain things? Indeed, for better or worse, I never lack enthusiasm... |
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| for Ariadne |
[Feb. 6th, 2006|10:28 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  laaaatin | ] |
"Sittin' on the shores of Dia,
watchin' the ships float away.
Sittin' on the shores of Dia,
left behind.
I left my home on Crete,
headed for the Athens bay.
Now, I got no one to meet me,
'cause my Theseus has gone astray.
So, I'm just-a sittin' on the shores of Dia,
watching my garments drift away.
Sittin' on the shores of Dia,
left behind."
my apologies to anyone who loves Otis Redding's "dock of the bay." kudos, however, to anyone who gets this reference--though I think there might only be one person who REALLY gets it, and she lives in Virginia. Hm... ah, well.
PS: that apology is really REALLY aimed at you, Dara. I'm really really sorry to be misusing this song like this... but its necessary, you gotta believe me... |
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| mood and meditation |
[Feb. 3rd, 2006|04:17 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | ahh | ] |
ahem. haiku:
Sun in wide windows,
freedom reigns o'er empty house.
Beautiful weekend.
Sweater and jeans. But
where's the Friday evening suit?
Ah, no tournament!
Calculus test grade:
Eighty-three where F should be.
Proof that God exists?
Darrow and Harper
gone on the exact same days.
Perhaps, they eloped?
Shakespeare calendar
illuminates the Bard's realm.
Gary really loves.
With Miss Eliza,
delicious plans for Sunday.
Excitement abound.
Dara, I love you
far more than all mankind has
beauty imagined. |
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