the grace jones doc was good. she had a hard coming up in jamaica with mas b, said he was the hard character that comes out on stage. she becomes him to wrest power from his restless imprisoned ghost. the music is liberating. she claims her power and gives it to you all in a breath.

we did reach the beach this a.m. at the tail end of the gatoraid run and ahead of the storm. i was ready to head to the liberry but decided to go home and shower and watch red desert while i look at pictures and talk to you. red desert deserves total immersed attention but i have seen it many times and it's now like listening to bach fugues. i forgot it starts with a strike at a massive industrial site, with nuclear reactor and fire belching columns as high as obomba's tower. often the environment is soft focus, and the figures in groups, workers, are soft too. monica viti is sharp, observant. neither worker nor boss. giant ships move through like impossibly heavy dreams. actually it's a landscape without land, a constructed replacement of environment, a manscape of hell. monica viti is starving in the manscape, she buys a man's chewed sandwich, eats it in a little dark scrub valley of steaming waste, tower breathing fire like an industrial dragon. 

a woman autopilot in a dead gray van threatened me this morning. i rode in front of her making her slow down. in the case of autopilots it's not fear that makes them aggressive it's hate plus power. you give a being without purpose or spiritual agency a gun or a vehicle and they become the weapon of hate, they weaponize themselves with hate.

the movie is the ennui of industrialized living. it's a kind of bardo, this manned environment. a red desert. you can't really enter this environment, you see it hard, you see it with soft focus, you daydream, the soft focus enters you.