Friday morning email.

I hope Josh doesn't mind me making public a private email. If he does, too bad. His email makes me miss taking film theory classes.

So I'm reading this crazy book called "No Future:
Queer Theory and the Death Drive" which, as you can
imagine, is out of control. I really love it, in that
if you can stomach a pretty high volume of Lacanian
language and typical pomo obfuscation it is really
really brilliantly insightful in an angry-fag kind of
way.

The author mostly examines books and movies (Scrooge
is really a hero BEFORE he gets converted into
Christmas-spirit and is defeated by heternormativity
and the mandate of reproduction) and he (like that
other great lacanian craze-hole, Zizek) loves
Hitchcock. Which is what I'm writing about. I was
really amused to see him reference several articles he
had written about Hitchcock in his (super awesome)
reading of "The Birds." These two articles have what
may be two of the finest names for pieces of film crit
in, well, ever. Here is part of the footnote,

"For a fuller discussion of Hitchcock's relationship
to questions of waste and anality, see my essays 'Piss
Elegant: Freud, Hitchcock and the Micturating Penis'
and 'Rear Window's Glasshole.'"

Doesn't "Piss Elegant: Freud, Hitchcock and the Micturating Penis" sound like the punchline to a joke found in a Cecil B. Demented deleted scene? Brilliant.