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she hate me
Jul. 23rd, 2004 09:27 amWhy is it I feel a lump of dread in my stomach at the thought of Spike Lee making a movie with lesbian characters? (As much as I love the title he's chosen. But is he trying to say with that title that all lesbians hate men?) Perhaps it's the premise of the film as much as anything? Perhaps I'm afraid that, like most straight male directors when the subject is lesbianism, he won't be able to think outside the box? That it'll turn into another trite male fantasy--i.e., one of the film's dykes will fall in love with the virile main character?
Unlike the Republicans with Fahrenheit 9/11, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now. I haven't seen any of Spike's recent films...The Summer of Sam was so godawful I haven't been able to bring myself to see anything he's done since then.
On the subway this morning there was a crazy person. Not unusual, but she was one of those crazy persons who kind of looks like a normal person until they start muttering aloud on the train--which is what this chick did. I couldn't hear exactly what she was saying because I was hooked up to the ipod; I just saw her lips moving silently as Radiohead bleated ambiently in my ears, all as if in a dream.
When she got a seat on the subway she took out a brush and started obsessively combing her hair; instead of lustrous smoothness it brought about static chaos. As she shuffled off the train at her stop and walked along the nearly empty and desolately white platform, I noticed one pantleg was higher than the other and I wondered if she had a job, I wondered where she was going.
Unlike the Republicans with Fahrenheit 9/11, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now. I haven't seen any of Spike's recent films...The Summer of Sam was so godawful I haven't been able to bring myself to see anything he's done since then.
On the subway this morning there was a crazy person. Not unusual, but she was one of those crazy persons who kind of looks like a normal person until they start muttering aloud on the train--which is what this chick did. I couldn't hear exactly what she was saying because I was hooked up to the ipod; I just saw her lips moving silently as Radiohead bleated ambiently in my ears, all as if in a dream.
When she got a seat on the subway she took out a brush and started obsessively combing her hair; instead of lustrous smoothness it brought about static chaos. As she shuffled off the train at her stop and walked along the nearly empty and desolately white platform, I noticed one pantleg was higher than the other and I wondered if she had a job, I wondered where she was going.
