Maria Alexander News and Updates from TheHandlessPoet.com

I'm here at work, recovering from a filling this morning. My mouth is still quite numb and I'm trying not to dribble espresso all over my clothes and keyboard. I'm thinking lunch will be liquid. All in all, though, it wasn't that bad and certainly not nearly the nightmare that has been suffering. So all is good.

La Haine
The Frenchman is back now from Princeton where he was travelling on business. While he was gone, I finally watched a movie that he's lectured on extensively and about which he's written many papers: La Haine, also known as Hate, which was distributed by Jodie Foster's production company here in the U.S.

It was, to put it mildly, explosive. Filmed in black and white, the story tracks three young men -- Arab, Black and Jewish -- who live in the suburbs of Paris in 1995 where the riots would eventually break out. The movie is positively prophetic (or inspiring, as the case may be), as it was released in February of 1995 and the civil unrest that would rock the nation breaks out the following November. With liberal dashes of humor and poignancy, the story follows the lives of these unemployed young men through 24 hours of poverty, racism and brutality as one of them comes across a gun lost by a cop during a riot that kills a friend of theirs.

I get why The Frenchman is so passionate about this film. It should have shaken awake France to its hate. It did -- a little. Not enough to prevent the death and destruction of the ensuing unrest. It's shameful that this same director went on to make Gothika and now what looks like an awful science fiction thriller with Vin Diesel. I think aliens (aka Hollywood) have abducted his brain and put it in a jar somewhere so that he can no longer make world-shaking films.

Death in Charge
I also went to AFI to see a screening of my friend Devi's latest short film that she made during her directorship program. The very funny dark short is called "Death in Charge." Apparently after Death kills the babysitter on her way to her next job, Death heads to the house itself to take out the Mom. But when the Mom mistakes Death for the babysitter, much silliness ensues involving violent video games, macaroni and cheese, and a toy army tank.

It rocked seeing Devi (we've been friends for over a dozen years) and her Indiana Jones husband, Dr. Fuentes, as well as meeting Devi's folks. Dr. Fuentes and I lamented the number of popular science books and waxed admiringly of PZ Meyers et al. While he's written a few books now, he's working on a book that's more accessible to the average reader.

Okay, back to work!

Labels: comedy, films, France

I've now had a couple of photos published by Schmap -- one for their Schmap of Cannes and in the Third Edition of their Paris Schmapp for La Musée Moreau. It's a cheap way for them to get interactive material, true, but I'm not doing anything otherwise with the Flickr photos and they do fully credit me for the photo, linking back to my Flickr account.

I queried the editor about writing a Schmap myself, but haven't heard back. I think one of Aix-en-Provence is in order, don't you? It's not like I'm not qualified!

Labels: France, Schmap

Robie and The Frenchman are on a man date at the veterinarian today. It's the first time The Frenchman has been to the veterinarian. Ever. His brief bout with Dancy the Bunny was his only brush with pet ownership. So, off they went this morning to the vet recommended by Dr. Doolittle who is too busy for new patients. It should be enlightening for him.

The writing is still crawling and I can't seem to speed it up. I'm up to just over 29K on the rewrite. I feel like I'm just now getting the hang of this new genre. Joy! The good news is that the people I'm freelancing for have told me I'm free to reduce my hours at will so that I can write more. Once we get past this push that ends October 1, I'm definitely going to do that.

As for 2 Days in Paris, I neglected to mention that Julie Delpy made one error in the film's content, which is that in portraying her free-spirited, bohemian family, she inadvertently strengthens the stereotype that French people are sex fiends. I've got tons of references -- and experience -- to the contrary. There was even an article published in the New York Times* about a study comparing the sexual habits of the French and Americans. The study declared the sex habits were very similar, with French women starting sexual activity later than American women, and in general French people staying married longer.

(Dammit, someone's got to want to publish my article, "The Other France: Sex, Guns and the Sarkozy Presidency.")



*“On Sex: U.S. and France Speak Same Language,” 2001, New York Times.

Labels: France, french stereotypes

Last night, The Frenchman took me to see 2 Days in Paris, which was hilarious. It's about a Franco-American couple who spends two insane days in the zany French girlfriend's hometown of Paris after a two-week vacation in Venice. While I had a far better time there with The Frenchman's friends and family, I could totally relate to the screwball anxiety that her American boyfriend goes through in the film due to the language barrier. Oh la la! Julie Delpy, who wrote, directed and starred in the film, relies a bit much on Amelie techniques toward the beginning and periodically through the film. However, the one-liners delivered by her cranky, histrionic boyfriend played by Adam Goldberg are fabulous.

And for those who care, I decided to pick up The Chamber of Secrets while I was at the airport this weekend. I'm already almost halfway through. Damn, this book is a fast read. I can't believe how swift the plot is. It just runs along like a freight train.

My writing is not running along, but rather more like limping feverishly in the desert. I need to put on some wordage, pronto!

Labels: France, Harry Potter, Julie Delpy

France has guns.

In fact, they've got plenty of guns. Even handguns. Compared to other European countries, they have a high rate of gun ownership.

One of the differences between France and the U.S. is that France's gun license requires stringent training and testing in addition to a background check for both criminal records and mental health problems as well. Let it be noted that, while there have been two cases of hostage-taking in schools (only one with a gun, and that was fake), the French have never had a school shooting. As for other gun problems, when Richard Durn killed eight people with a handgun in 2002, the mass murder incited calls for greater gun restrictions. However, some viewed it as a failure in the system to keep firearms out of the hands of a person with a history of mental health problems. The French are fanatical about preserving their privacy, but they accept this invasion as necessary to save human life. With the exception of Durn, they've succeeded.

Finally, the House took a step yesterday in the right direction. They passed a new gun control bill that requires states to automate reporting of mental health and criminal records to a database used to check gun buyers.

Of course we need to get the states on board with how and when they report mental health issues to said database, but one step at a time. We can't all be as orderly and sane as France and other countries about this now, can we? We first have to run the gamut of paranoia about what mental health issues and where and when, then run around in circles clutching our semi-automatics to our chests and gritting our teeth as we swear at the liberals who are tampering with our freedums before we finally settle down and accept that arming everyone so that the Virginia Tech massacre could have turned into the Quentin Tarantino Mexican Standoff Multiple Massacre Jamboree is, in fact, a bad idea.

Like I said, one step at a time. But this is a sane one and it's working over here. Definitely a good idea we should steal. Let's hope the Senate agrees.

Labels: France, french stereotypes, guns, legislation

When we boarded, we took off our shoes and in no time I was climbing around that 30-foot sailboat like a monkey. We headed out from Le Vieux Port in Marseilles and circled the Frioul Archipelago. We spotted the Château d'If on one of the islands, where Alexander Dumas set The Count of Monte Cristo. I only regret that I didn't take more pictures, including one of me piloting (Captain Em was very brave letting me do that, I tell ya). I'd said to hell with worrying about the camera and brought it, but I didn't even feel like dragging it out until we were almost back to port. The ocean rocking was so relaxing that I fell asleep on top of the boat at one point. I awoke with a snap when the boat listed and I realized I was rolling off. Ha!

Last night, the land sickness set in after we'd been to the supermarket, came home, and started unloading the groceries. I'd remembered the land sickness but thought that since it didn't hit me in the supermarket, it wasn't going to happen. Ooooo, wrong, wrong. The world, she was a-swayin'!

A truly great day, thanks to our French friends Em and A.

Labels: chateau d'if, France, Marseilles, Mediterranean, sailing

Today, I took the ring to the very frou-frou jewelers today, Pellegrine. They might not be able to repair the ring. If not, we're going to wait until I return to Los Angeles and take it back to Antiquarius.

Afterwards, I hung out at L'Elfike for a few hours, talking to my goth friend Ange. She helped me understand some of the sentiments towards the Arabic immigrants. Apparently, she's been attacked and robbed on multiple occasions by young Arabs and the police won't do anything about it. She works bad hours, too, making her especially vulnerable to this kind of violence. She's very happy Sarkozy is in office because he wants to clamp down on immigration and, more importantly, create jobs. She told me that the older Arabic folk -- those over 30 years old -- were great people because they choose to learn the language and assimilate into French culture, but that the younger Arabs were a nightmare across the board. I discussed this with The Frenchman, and he believes the reason the younger people are committing crimes is because -- hello! -- they can't get jobs due to discrimination and all the other economic problems. According to Ange, they're only discriminated against because they refuse to learn the language and the customs. She asked me how I'd feel if someone came to the U.S. and refused to learn English whilst demanding social services and committing crimes. Honestly, it would be difficult for me to accept. The Frenchman and his colleagues, however, seem to believe it's far more complicated than that. It's always more complicated, that's for sure.

Meanwhile, Ange is asking the owner permission for me to take photos of the interior of the bar. You have no idea how beautiful it is. These photos will not be on Flickr, as a promise to the owner, who fears their use in magazines trashing the gothic culture in his club (sound familiar, Los Angeles club owners?). They're for my private research when I write SECRETS FOR MELUSINE. Ange seemed to dig the story premise a lot. I'm terribly grateful for her help.

Ange also introduced me to a real live pagan! Woo! His name was Mark, and he said there were maybe three or four pagans in all of the South. However, up north there were a great many pagans, especially in Brittany and Paris. Once a year, they hold an exposition with ceremonies so that pagans can meet one another. Sort of like Pantheacon in San Francisco.

And, yes, I had all of these conversations in French. It was exhausting.

Must do more writing before I fall over and sleep another night.

Labels: France, l'elfike, paganism, politics, ring

The excerpt from the late Roberto Bolano's The Savage Detectives just has me in stitches, and I bet he wasn't looking for that response. It's based on real-life thugs, otherwise known as the "infrarealists" (or some variation thereof) break up poetry readings and mock Octavio Paz. Gangsters hell bent on changing the poetry world.

That is simply hilarious.

Meanwhile, Slate is referring to the new Spiderman as "Emo Parker."





HAHAHAHAHAHA! Awww, Spidey! Turn that frown upside down, man!





I was thinking the other day about what I miss most about the U.S. You know what that is? My goddamn immune system. Yesterday, I went through another hellish, painful ailment that involved an emergency visit to the doctor, the lab, the pharmacy, and now all kinds of French meds. And I mean, so much pain, I couldn't speak English, much less French. And we'd just finished a major Vitamin C + Royal Jelly run prescribed by the pharmacist, too. You want a gangster poem? I got yer gangster poem right here, Roberto:

Fucking France
I'm always sick here
La grippe
Le rhume
La gastro
Not to mention
All sorts of other
Damned things
I never get at home
You know
I love Provence
And Paris more
But fuck this
I bet I'll
Catch a cold
On the plane
Home


I'm going to mock me some Paz now and rest some more. Good night, and good health.

Labels: France, poetry, sick, Spiderman