Intermission

Since there’s been a dastardly lack of updates spun around the fibres of Generic Mugwump lately, I feel obliged to fill this silence with a murmur or two. Allow me to begin with a banal mourning of mental energies, torn as they were from the frontal lobe by devious burdens masquerading as postmen, consequently hindering all attempts to smack the instruments of Microsoft PLC with a choice selection of arcane terminology and arbitrary allusions to high modernism. Oh yes, a tear for the obstructed Fahey, languishing in a gutter atop the corroded thoroughfares of the mind, tales of Bearded Fahey sutured to the tumescent girth of the Earth’s crust, nascent ideas discarded one by one, grand narratives dissolved by the vomitory rush of lackadaisy, conceptualisations of epic conflict floating over and above the temporal and the spatial flagellated by apathy, those carefully conceived words purloined by extraneous enterprises. Ah, the missed reviews, films and the critical considerations thereof swelling the head only to be jettisoned alongside a host of viscous tribulations.

But enough of that. Now commences the central thread of this rambling discourse.

Allow me point the humble visitor of this word emporium in the direction of two sites that, with my sincere conjecture, highly deserve your patronage. First of all there’s The Film Fiend. This cornucopia of pithy pronouncements concerning the cinematic arts is the lair of one T. Rigney, a man famed for his awesome B-Movie of the Week feature over at Blogcritics. In his natural habitat, Rigney critically ambulates through an array of films, the type conjoined to colossal names such as Gary Daniels and Vinnie Jones, you know the sort, masterpieces hidden underneath the crushing weight of authorial ineptitude, the dearth of production resources and disastrously mediocre thespians. These curious artefacts conceal their profundity behind a wealth of misrecognition devices, from subverting continuity to boom mikes subtly penetrating the frame – the stratagems through which a film like Mansquito can evade the clutches of the canon are infinite. Rigney, I feel, has the sentient awareness of this phenomenon coursing through his veins, hence the excellence of the Film Fiend project.

The other locus of interest to be remarked upon here is Shreyashi Ganguly’s Curious Insanity blog. This collection of musings – ruminations on the symptoms of our ‘insane world’ – finds itself textured by a very expressive lexicon, an impeccable grasp of the dance of language, from the ballet of metaphor to the waltz of polysyllabics. Clearly well acquainted with the pulsations of literary decency, Ganguly presents articulate considerations of black eyes ailing the culture, opining the recent spate of biographical books causing orgiastic fervour in the reading public and smearing whatever integrity the book shops have remaining. Thoughts smoothed and caressed by gentle inclusions of Woody Allen references and understated gestures to Images & Words simply colour the fantastic writing all the more.

These merit more than a mere disregarding, a flippant signifier of disinterest, an insolent spit towards. No, go and visit them, do it. These two catalogues of captivating reflection and articulate promulgation merit identification, for they are conspicuous in the sea of so much pedestrian and predictable guff that is the internet – they protrude from the truisms and immature rantings that constitute mighty portions of, for instance, the famed blogosphere. Why waste time elsewhere when you can find yourself entertained and mentally stimulated with the specific operations hitherto delineated?

I might also draw attention here to the other assorted names and shrines listed in the sidebar, each and every one of them garners my endorsement, go and cast thy eyes upon their golden insights.