While I'm not a conspiracy theorist, I do think that there are "leaders"(why are they leaders?) in this country or city who are connected to such mayhem caused by drugs--or arms trade, to name another slimy area.
You are getting closer. Please reveal on! Name names and don't be afraid. We will support you. And, to those leaders? We are coming for you.
Dave "Sub Commandante Mark US" Eberhardt
Those Who Can, Do
Walt Whitman said, "To have great poets, there must be great audiences." The same should be said of film. Great films are made today for the crowds packing the Charles Theatre or exploring cinema at home via Netflix. Critics, however, can be the exception. Your Jan. 9 issue makes clear that some film reviewers are greatly overdue for a refresher in artistic theory.
Geoffrey Himes, in his review of There Will Be Blood ("Crude Awakenings," Film), rightly praises Daniel Day-Lewis' acting performance. But, incredibly, he sums up by saying Day-Lewis "radiates the heat from that inner furnace that drives some men to triumph and catastrophe. You can't fake that in front of a movie camera." Well, of course you can fake that. It is what actors do, and great actors like Day-Lewis do it very well. In fact, if Day-Lewis couldn't fake it, one would need to call into question his ability as an actor.
Turning the page, one finds Jason Ferguson's fond review of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, directed by Julian Schnabel ("The Blinker," Film). Schnabel has many excellent paintings and now a few excellent films under his belt. So it seems childish for Ferguson to ask if continuity discrepancies in the film were "intentional." Anyone studied in art will tell you intent plays no role whatsoever in how a piece is experienced. Even pure accident is part of art, today and traditionally. A glance at the style of Schnabel's paintings (and the market values thereof) will confirm this.
You also might want to have a word with your proofreaders about these same film reviews. The last name of the newspaper mogul who lived in San Simeon was Hearst, not Heart.
For Uncle Chris
I was a close friend of Christopher Burden (Murder Ink, Oct. 31, 2007). I gave him a job--he worked for me for three years. I was there when his son was born; my children call him Uncle Chris. I still talk like he's here.
When my family heard of his death, my husband came to me after 10 months of not hearing from Chris. I used to say to my husband that when I see him I was going to kick his butt.
Chris was so close to my family that at night, when he didn't want to be home, he would use the key he had to our house, and when I would come down stairs to go to work, there he was on the couch asleep. You never know how bad it hurts to lose someone you love soooooo much until it happens. I will never tell my kids that they won't see Uncle Chris anymore. But even worse, what will his son know of him? Nothing, because it was so much more important to take his life away than to walk away.
What really hurts is that trying to get information on his case, where he is buried, to get in touch with his family to tell them we love them and we are sooooooo sorry is impossible. I would give almost anything to be able to sit at his grave and talk to him, because I'm sure he would hear me. The Baltimore Police Department is fast to say what it can't do, but it isn't fast enough to save a life.
I have always been pro-police. I talk to the officers in my neighborhood all the time. I even asked them for help to be able to contact Chris' family, and they couldn't help me because, of course, it happened in the city. We all make choices in life, and we all have to deal with the choices we make, but taking someone's life is always the wrong choice.
I know that you get a million comments and mine may go unheard. I just want someone to know that Chris was loved by many, and if I could change anything, I would change the last time I saw him--to hug and kiss and tell him I love him a little harder.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your time.
Editor's note: Got some love to share? City Paper wants to print your valentines in our Feb. 13 issue, for free. (Any we can't fit in print will go up on our web site.) We'd also love to print any photographs or art, although all submissions become the property of City Paper, i.e. you're never seeing them again, seriously. Use this form to send that note to your beloved. The deadline is 5 p.m., Thursday, Feb. 7. C'mon, show us your heart(s).
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