Future daze

As you all know, the purpose of this blog is largely memorial: to keep basic track of the various works worth reviewing during my time in Europe; so that I can archive these impressions and also gauge the volume of stuff encountered for the sake of future recollection and memory-propping. And also to let others know what I've seen, read and consumed. Pretty basic stuff. But don't let it create the impression that I write or review everything I see and do. It just ain't so. Only the stuff worthy of longer review and associative analysis makes it onto the Daze. To review everything would be to incur a Borgesian maelstrom — equally mind-numbing, wasteful and detailed as that may be. To review everything I might only get a bite of, or witness the last five minutes or garnered through staggered impression of channel-surf'd malaise, these too would still not constitute sufficient warrant and booking in review form. Only the good shit. The rest, well, it's either trash, tired or merely worthy of sighs. Stuff I've seen in toto but which can be dealt with in one or two words. Like:

Sex is Comedy by Catherine Breillat (shit). The Circle, by Jafar Panahi (naturalistic). Coffee and Cigarettes, Jim Jarmusch (fagged out). The Captive, Chantal Akerman (insipid). Mirror, Andrei Tarkovsky (lacking). Eats, Shoots & Leaves, Lynne Truss (mild fun).