i hate the emptiness
and what it demands.
every night a bout with the
dim shadow begging to be
made corporeal. how many
words can there be to name
this infinite pedestrian panic?
a girl’s father is swept away in a flood
as she plays a styrofoam guitar.
nothing but rice to eat and a gentle
glimmer of sunset on the muddy monsoon
river. weaponising material poverty
like a mallet to instil gratitude.
without sacrifice, empathy is just guilt
dancing with shame.
i remember long afternoons
waiting out the rain, the smell of burning
plastic garbage damped. the sound of droplets
like machine gun fire on the zinc roof. how absurd
youthful optimism looks through the long lens
of aged realism.
i hate the emptiness
and what it demands.
but god damn it, if i don’t
extract something from it
every time.
Showing posts with label Film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Film. Show all posts
November 20, 2021
324/365
August 2, 2021
214/365
that was a great movie. i could tell throughout
the film that she would feel good about the on screen
charity and colorblindness of the family.
my twelve year old had selected the film for the night
and she chose the one about an american football player
who overcomes an impoverished upbringing to play in the nfl
with the help of his adoptive (white) parents.
they’re such great people
she would say throughout the film,
as i cringed at the scenes depicting
the main character’s impoverished background.
but i held my tongue.
let her watch it and make meaning
on her own. wait to see what she might
recognise on her own. wanting her to
appreciate love and care of a family
looking out for someone in need,
but twelve years old or not
she needs to see beyond
the glimmer of charity in movies
designed to make
white people
feel good
about beng
good white
people.
have you ever heard of the term trope?
we discussed as a family, the fifteen year old now
involved: like a cliche? a stereotype?
it’s a reoccurring theme or idea.
they exist in film and a common one
is the white saviour trope.
the white saviour trope is when
a white character rescues non-white characters
from unfortunate circumstances. when we see
the non-white characters as only victims,
needing the help of the white saviour.
These films don’t give us the full picture of the
black experience. they are not stories about
black people by black people.
she gets a bit defensive.
she’s not a big fan of feedback
or being told her choices aren’t great.
but it’s a true story, dad!
there are elements that are based
on real events and people, but the way
this story was told was to make white people
feel good about themselves instead of
looking at the complexity of race.
we can say it’s a good movie and still
criticise it for being a lazy trope.
i’m not sure how much of tonight’s lesson
will stick. i may have taken poetic licence
and wrote more here than what was actually
spoken, but we’re not gonna watch the blind side
and not mention the glaring elephant in the room.
critical viewing starts as soon as we consume media.
this was just the planting of a vernacular she will need
to make sense of the world and be powerful in it.
words like trope and white saviour will bloom
into bigger words like
equity and justice.
December 28, 2016
La La Madden
Finally found the antidote to Trumpism- Go see La La Land. What a beautiful, hopeful, romantic, magical film about passion and love. I loved every second of this film. Such a fresh look at how to tell a story. Damien Chazelle shines on all fronts. Perfectly written and beautifully shot, this film blends music, photography and a litany of carefully crafted story telling techniques.
This film was just what I needed to fill me up with hope about life, art, and passion as this year comes to its bitter end. It is filled with such vibrancy and color, wit and humor, as well a roller coaster of emotions. I was sitting on the edge of my seat from start to finish. I cannot say enough about this movie.
In other news, another grey day. Slow and easy, the kind you dream about in mid November when you are swamped and harried and busy with work. Skye and I hung out a bit. Made a small dent in the new Zadie Smith book. Played some guitar. Had a wine and pretzel with Mairin and scarfed down a chocolate eclair.
The doctor said my ankle is healing nicely and that I should be running in two months. In the meantime, it’s one step after the other.
I’d love to sit and brainstorm a few more things to ponder, but the Raiders are playing Atlanta in week two of my Madden season and the players are not going to train themselves.
Peace out crew. Three more days and things will be different.
This film was just what I needed to fill me up with hope about life, art, and passion as this year comes to its bitter end. It is filled with such vibrancy and color, wit and humor, as well a roller coaster of emotions. I was sitting on the edge of my seat from start to finish. I cannot say enough about this movie.
In other news, another grey day. Slow and easy, the kind you dream about in mid November when you are swamped and harried and busy with work. Skye and I hung out a bit. Made a small dent in the new Zadie Smith book. Played some guitar. Had a wine and pretzel with Mairin and scarfed down a chocolate eclair.
The doctor said my ankle is healing nicely and that I should be running in two months. In the meantime, it’s one step after the other.
I’d love to sit and brainstorm a few more things to ponder, but the Raiders are playing Atlanta in week two of my Madden season and the players are not going to train themselves.
Peace out crew. Three more days and things will be different.
October 15, 2016
Always Meant To Be
Note to 20 year old self:
I know you think that your life is always going to be filled with excitement and adventure. I see the way you swagger about drunk, hiding your insecurities with that messy bravado. You think that your future will always e filled with stories from On The Road and Fear and Loathing.
You might be a star, or at least greatly admired. You are not talented yet, you know this, but you might be able to carve together a working talent that might get you into women’s beds and stages and park benches and overnight trains in far off continents. But let me tell you, one day, when you are forty two, what you think the future will be like now and what it is really like will be very different.
You will wake up one morning at forty two and get ready to drive your daughter to her sewing class clear across town. The day will be hot and sticky and you will be convinced that the AC is not working, but it will be. After you drop off daughter number one, you will go to the mall to set up your second daughter’s birthday at Build A Bear. You will contemplate how much money is okay to spend on outfits for these stuffed creatures with your wife. It will all feel necessary and important. The party will be set.
You'll grab a coffee and walk around a mall again. So many damn malls everywhere. Then you are off to pick up your daughter and since you forgot to give blood at the clinic yesterdays, so you will pop in there and get quickly pricked. The lab staff knows your first name. That can’t be good.
Back home you will make a hummus and avocado sandwich with hot peppers and olives. It will be surprisingly good. You will take a nap on the couch as your kids watch a bit of TV. Your head on the older one’s lap. She will rub your beard and pet your head while you doze in and out. It will feel nice. For a second, you will think that this moment in time, on a couch, on a Saturday at forty two in the middle of a nothing day could be a million times better than shredding guitar in front of a stadium. You will fall asleep.
You will get up an hour later and get ready for the pool. Towels. Sun screen. Olives. Wine. A book. Dried cranberries. The whole family trots downstairs and you play with your kids a bit. Throwing them about like you did when they were small. You’ll read and watch them play. They are so loud and argue so much. Is this normal? You wonder.
The wine and the sun and the lethargy and the pointlessness of it all cling to you like a fine film of ……you will lose the metaphor because you ware lazy and gain the start of a mild headache. You will drink some water and tell the kids it’s time to go up for dinner.
You are not a star or famous or a writer or a musician, your talent will never develop and adventure will always feels more tame when you are in the midst of it. But you might crank out another batch of words and a few friends might read them. They may like them, some might love them, a few might private message you- thanking you for being so honest and vulnerable. As if these traits are not the most obvious thing anyone of can do.
Tomorrow will be another day. Who knows? You will tell yourself maybe it is not too late? Maybe the talent just needs a few more years. Maybe the adventure will never look like what you expected. Maybe you are right where you were always meant to be.
…
asinine
ˈasɪnʌɪn/
adjective: asinine
Extremely stupid or foolish. "Lydia ignored his asinine remark"
Synonyms:
Stupid, foolish, pointless, brainless, mindless, senseless, doltish, idiotic, imbecilic, imbecile, insane, lunatic, ridiculous, ludicrous, absurd, preposterous, nonsensical, fatuous, silly, childish, infantile, puerile, immature, juvenile, inane, witless, half-baked, empty-headed, unintelligent, half-witted, slow-witted, weak-minded;
“You wanna go see The Accountant tonight?”
“Sure why not?”
We love movies. Mairin loves them. I love them. We have forced our kids to love them. Good or bad, there is little that we all love more than sitting in a dark theatre, popcorn in hand, a coke, maybe some chocolate and relinquishing control to the narrative thread that is being cast.
I have always loved movies. I would love to spin a tale of magic and wow, ala Henry Miller and his description of early picture shows in Brooklyn as a child, but it is late and I just got back from a terrible movie, but that’s the point right- that even a bad movie is an amazing experience.
I’ll see anything. I’ll go with friends. Alone. Day or night. If you ever ask, “Do you want to see a movie?" My answer will always be yes. Even the bad ones make you think:
1. Is Ben Affleck really that bad of an actor or is he really good at choosing and playing terrible parts?
2. Did he just stay in character after he played an autistic Batman to play this role?
3.Was his last good movie Clerks? Was he in that?
4. Is it possible to make a film that perpetuates so many stereotypes and not call it a comedy or satire?
5. Were there really only four female roles and can they be that shallow and lame? And can you have said female characters never speak to other female characters for the length of feature film?
6. Can the thuggish, brown skinned, ultra-masculine bad asses with crazy facial hair and militarily mercenary garb really be that bad at firing their weapons? Did they not have target practice at some point?
7. Why don’t all guns have silencers? What is the advantage of a loud gun?
8. Is the heavy handed final song, really necessary? Even when it is so out of place with the rest of the film?
But we went and we laughed, when we weren’t supposed to, or were we? Was this so obviously asinine that we were meant to laugh at it? We looked at each other and rolled our eyes in the dark. If anything, our connected film radar is an attuned and accurate reflection of our bond, our love. We can watch and talk movies forever.
Afterward, we headed out for a quick bite and a wine and a beer. It was Saturday night and this is what married couples do- we go to terrible movies on a whim and we enjoy the mediocrity of the art form. Not every movie is a film and not every experience needs to be life changing.
We love stories and characters, no matter how poorly told or how shallow. We can fill in the blanks and ridicule and judge. The important thing is that we sign up for the ride. We sit in the darkness and we give every movie a chance, knowing that it is the film watching experience that can often outshine the actual film.
I know you think that your life is always going to be filled with excitement and adventure. I see the way you swagger about drunk, hiding your insecurities with that messy bravado. You think that your future will always e filled with stories from On The Road and Fear and Loathing.
You might be a star, or at least greatly admired. You are not talented yet, you know this, but you might be able to carve together a working talent that might get you into women’s beds and stages and park benches and overnight trains in far off continents. But let me tell you, one day, when you are forty two, what you think the future will be like now and what it is really like will be very different.
You will wake up one morning at forty two and get ready to drive your daughter to her sewing class clear across town. The day will be hot and sticky and you will be convinced that the AC is not working, but it will be. After you drop off daughter number one, you will go to the mall to set up your second daughter’s birthday at Build A Bear. You will contemplate how much money is okay to spend on outfits for these stuffed creatures with your wife. It will all feel necessary and important. The party will be set.
You'll grab a coffee and walk around a mall again. So many damn malls everywhere. Then you are off to pick up your daughter and since you forgot to give blood at the clinic yesterdays, so you will pop in there and get quickly pricked. The lab staff knows your first name. That can’t be good.
Back home you will make a hummus and avocado sandwich with hot peppers and olives. It will be surprisingly good. You will take a nap on the couch as your kids watch a bit of TV. Your head on the older one’s lap. She will rub your beard and pet your head while you doze in and out. It will feel nice. For a second, you will think that this moment in time, on a couch, on a Saturday at forty two in the middle of a nothing day could be a million times better than shredding guitar in front of a stadium. You will fall asleep.
You will get up an hour later and get ready for the pool. Towels. Sun screen. Olives. Wine. A book. Dried cranberries. The whole family trots downstairs and you play with your kids a bit. Throwing them about like you did when they were small. You’ll read and watch them play. They are so loud and argue so much. Is this normal? You wonder.
The wine and the sun and the lethargy and the pointlessness of it all cling to you like a fine film of ……you will lose the metaphor because you ware lazy and gain the start of a mild headache. You will drink some water and tell the kids it’s time to go up for dinner.
You are not a star or famous or a writer or a musician, your talent will never develop and adventure will always feels more tame when you are in the midst of it. But you might crank out another batch of words and a few friends might read them. They may like them, some might love them, a few might private message you- thanking you for being so honest and vulnerable. As if these traits are not the most obvious thing anyone of can do.
Tomorrow will be another day. Who knows? You will tell yourself maybe it is not too late? Maybe the talent just needs a few more years. Maybe the adventure will never look like what you expected. Maybe you are right where you were always meant to be.
…
asinine
ˈasɪnʌɪn/
adjective: asinine
Extremely stupid or foolish. "Lydia ignored his asinine remark"
Synonyms:
Stupid, foolish, pointless, brainless, mindless, senseless, doltish, idiotic, imbecilic, imbecile, insane, lunatic, ridiculous, ludicrous, absurd, preposterous, nonsensical, fatuous, silly, childish, infantile, puerile, immature, juvenile, inane, witless, half-baked, empty-headed, unintelligent, half-witted, slow-witted, weak-minded;
“You wanna go see The Accountant tonight?”
“Sure why not?”
We love movies. Mairin loves them. I love them. We have forced our kids to love them. Good or bad, there is little that we all love more than sitting in a dark theatre, popcorn in hand, a coke, maybe some chocolate and relinquishing control to the narrative thread that is being cast.
I have always loved movies. I would love to spin a tale of magic and wow, ala Henry Miller and his description of early picture shows in Brooklyn as a child, but it is late and I just got back from a terrible movie, but that’s the point right- that even a bad movie is an amazing experience.
I’ll see anything. I’ll go with friends. Alone. Day or night. If you ever ask, “Do you want to see a movie?" My answer will always be yes. Even the bad ones make you think:
1. Is Ben Affleck really that bad of an actor or is he really good at choosing and playing terrible parts?
2. Did he just stay in character after he played an autistic Batman to play this role?
3.Was his last good movie Clerks? Was he in that?
4. Is it possible to make a film that perpetuates so many stereotypes and not call it a comedy or satire?
5. Were there really only four female roles and can they be that shallow and lame? And can you have said female characters never speak to other female characters for the length of feature film?
6. Can the thuggish, brown skinned, ultra-masculine bad asses with crazy facial hair and militarily mercenary garb really be that bad at firing their weapons? Did they not have target practice at some point?
7. Why don’t all guns have silencers? What is the advantage of a loud gun?
8. Is the heavy handed final song, really necessary? Even when it is so out of place with the rest of the film?
But we went and we laughed, when we weren’t supposed to, or were we? Was this so obviously asinine that we were meant to laugh at it? We looked at each other and rolled our eyes in the dark. If anything, our connected film radar is an attuned and accurate reflection of our bond, our love. We can watch and talk movies forever.
Afterward, we headed out for a quick bite and a wine and a beer. It was Saturday night and this is what married couples do- we go to terrible movies on a whim and we enjoy the mediocrity of the art form. Not every movie is a film and not every experience needs to be life changing.
We love stories and characters, no matter how poorly told or how shallow. We can fill in the blanks and ridicule and judge. The important thing is that we sign up for the ride. We sit in the darkness and we give every movie a chance, knowing that it is the film watching experience that can often outshine the actual film.
August 27, 2016
Life is Filled
We were walking home from dinner. It was getting dark and Kaia was holding my had as we strolled down the sidewalk. She had burned her hand earlier while making cupcakes all by herself, so she had warned me to be careful.
I wondered how many other times and in which cities in the future, I would hold her hand as we strolled the streets on the way home from dinner. I imagined her in her twenties and we would be somewhere in NYC or Paris or Bangkok.
“I am sad about Twinkle,” she said out of the blue.
“Me too.” Where was this going to go. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this talk. I gripped her hand harder. Squeezing it a little. She pulled away slightly. The blister from the burn.
“I still don’t understand why she needed to let go.”
“I think she was just tired sweetie. And scared and in a lot of pain.” I could feel the tears welling up.
Silence.
“I just wish there wasn’t such a thing as death.” I didn’t have the heart to go into any kind of explanation.
“Me too. I’m just glad you go tot meet her and have memories of her. She loved you and Skyelar very much. She told me every time I talked to her, what amazing, beautiful girls you two are.”
Silence.
“I’m gonna miss her. Even thought I didn’t know her very well.”
“Me too. Me too.”
"Be sure to hug Thomas for me when you go back home."
"I will sweetie. I will hug them all."
We walked the rest of the way home in silence. I thought about future nights and future meals and future walks in future cities. I thought about the future, because the past was just too heavy to carry home between the two of us.
…
We saw Captain Fantastic tonight and what a beautiful tender film. Well written, shot and directed. Great music and cast. It was really thought provoking. Some things it made me think about in no particular order of importance:
We should swear around our kids more and allow the use of “inappropriate language” when it is appropriate. Never liked the idea of “bad words.”
Never lie to kids and answer them as best you can- accurately and factually when they ask questions.
I miss my beard and not combing my hair all summer.
We should have some time to sit and read as a family. Time when every member is reading their own book, but it is a collective family act like watching TV.
Death is the best time to celebrate some one’s life.
Life is filled with joy and boredom and struggle and confusion and wonder and music and compromise and confusion and and and ….life is filled.
Anyway, the movie tugs at your hearts strings, make you laugh and cry and all the things that film should do. If you have a chance check it out.
I wondered how many other times and in which cities in the future, I would hold her hand as we strolled the streets on the way home from dinner. I imagined her in her twenties and we would be somewhere in NYC or Paris or Bangkok.
“I am sad about Twinkle,” she said out of the blue.
“Me too.” Where was this going to go. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this talk. I gripped her hand harder. Squeezing it a little. She pulled away slightly. The blister from the burn.
“I still don’t understand why she needed to let go.”
“I think she was just tired sweetie. And scared and in a lot of pain.” I could feel the tears welling up.
Silence.
“I just wish there wasn’t such a thing as death.” I didn’t have the heart to go into any kind of explanation.
“Me too. I’m just glad you go tot meet her and have memories of her. She loved you and Skyelar very much. She told me every time I talked to her, what amazing, beautiful girls you two are.”
Silence.
“I’m gonna miss her. Even thought I didn’t know her very well.”
“Me too. Me too.”
"Be sure to hug Thomas for me when you go back home."
"I will sweetie. I will hug them all."
We walked the rest of the way home in silence. I thought about future nights and future meals and future walks in future cities. I thought about the future, because the past was just too heavy to carry home between the two of us.
…
We saw Captain Fantastic tonight and what a beautiful tender film. Well written, shot and directed. Great music and cast. It was really thought provoking. Some things it made me think about in no particular order of importance:
We should swear around our kids more and allow the use of “inappropriate language” when it is appropriate. Never liked the idea of “bad words.”
Never lie to kids and answer them as best you can- accurately and factually when they ask questions.
I miss my beard and not combing my hair all summer.
We should have some time to sit and read as a family. Time when every member is reading their own book, but it is a collective family act like watching TV.
Death is the best time to celebrate some one’s life.
Life is filled with joy and boredom and struggle and confusion and wonder and music and compromise and confusion and and and ….life is filled.
Anyway, the movie tugs at your hearts strings, make you laugh and cry and all the things that film should do. If you have a chance check it out.
June 24, 2016
The Eagle Has Landed
I’m not sure if I am losing a day or gaining one. It was Thursday when we left and it is still Thursday. All I know is that I am hitting that jet lag wall. We had an easy flight. I watched- 10 Cloverlane, Concussion and finally saw Inception. Concussion was amazing. What a crazy story?
Hit the ground, rented a car and dropped in on the Dohertys for a quick visit, then burritos and Trader Joes. I think I saw Robin there. She looked like she might have recognized me, she looked familiar to me too, but after 20 years out of Marin everyone looks familiar. If that was you Robin, sorry I didn’t say anything. I was in a jet lagged haze and just wanted to be on a couch in the dark.
Being in your hometown after years away is always such a strange feeling. So many things stay exactly the same. Golden Creme Donuts is still right where I put it, but Pinky’s is now a Chipotle.
We are staying at a little two bedroom place on C street around the corner from my High School house. We are all trying to say awake it gets dark, but not so easy.
Not sure what the next few days will look like. Here is what I know for sure- some time in West Marin and Stinson and still hoping for a Saturday night get together. Now that we are in the same timezone hoping to get a few people saying they are down for a few drinks. How does Terrapin Landing at 8pm sound? Drop a line in the comments if you are coming or what to suggest another place. I am easy.
May 4, 2016
Too Congested
I’m not well tonight. I can’t tell if it is allergies or some contagion brought into my world my a visibly sick Anne Marie, but I have been sneezing since three O’clock.
Today was not a glamorous day. A series of planning meetings and a few ho-hum classes where I felt uninspired and barely productive. I tried to give a rousing book talk Hunger Makes Me A Modern Girl, highlighting the power of vulnerable storytelling and the magic of obsessive fandom, but not sure if my message landed on deaf ears. If not deaf ears then really tired, over-worked, it’s late in the year ears.
Listening to some Bikini Kill and getting my Riot Grrrl on. I can’t believe I missed this entire scene when I was nineteen and twenty. I guess I was too blinded by my testosterone fueled angst to know that this scene was evening happening. Not sure if discovering these bands at forty-two is as cool, but there is something still great about unpacking these albums (not on 7 inch singles I bought from an indie record store) but from a Spotify playlist. I wonder if there are scenes like this happening in today’s America. I certainly hope so.
Cruz is out and Trump is one step closer to hosting the reality TV show that we call America. I am too congested to clearly articulate my thoughts on that debacle at this time. I almost feel sorry for Cruz for being such a loser. First his VP falls off on the stage and then he punches his wife on stage. Cruz will be the candidate immortalized by embarrassing animated .Gifs.
We did something unusual after school. We took the girls to see Civil War with a few boarding house kids and Scott and Richard. Kaia loved it. I thought it was two hours of boring uninspired plot and a thirty minute fight scene at the airport that was rad. Antman is still the best Marvel character ever. Skye thought that maybe it was a bit too soon for her to see a movie like this. It was long, confusing and a bit scary. Mairin was just tying not to freeze to death.
It is night and I am spent. Time to crawl into bed and read.
Today was not a glamorous day. A series of planning meetings and a few ho-hum classes where I felt uninspired and barely productive. I tried to give a rousing book talk Hunger Makes Me A Modern Girl, highlighting the power of vulnerable storytelling and the magic of obsessive fandom, but not sure if my message landed on deaf ears. If not deaf ears then really tired, over-worked, it’s late in the year ears.
Listening to some Bikini Kill and getting my Riot Grrrl on. I can’t believe I missed this entire scene when I was nineteen and twenty. I guess I was too blinded by my testosterone fueled angst to know that this scene was evening happening. Not sure if discovering these bands at forty-two is as cool, but there is something still great about unpacking these albums (not on 7 inch singles I bought from an indie record store) but from a Spotify playlist. I wonder if there are scenes like this happening in today’s America. I certainly hope so.
Cruz is out and Trump is one step closer to hosting the reality TV show that we call America. I am too congested to clearly articulate my thoughts on that debacle at this time. I almost feel sorry for Cruz for being such a loser. First his VP falls off on the stage and then he punches his wife on stage. Cruz will be the candidate immortalized by embarrassing animated .Gifs.
We did something unusual after school. We took the girls to see Civil War with a few boarding house kids and Scott and Richard. Kaia loved it. I thought it was two hours of boring uninspired plot and a thirty minute fight scene at the airport that was rad. Antman is still the best Marvel character ever. Skye thought that maybe it was a bit too soon for her to see a movie like this. It was long, confusing and a bit scary. Mairin was just tying not to freeze to death.
It is night and I am spent. Time to crawl into bed and read.
March 25, 2016
Slow and Easy
Day one of the holiday started off slow and easy. Woke up to a quiet house around 8:30 and stayed in bed till about 9:00. After a bit of tough negotiations with Skye (She threw a tantrum and I hurled vague threats of “losing stuff.”) we scooted to Starbucks for a light breakfast and drinks.
Back home for a quick shower, then lunch at Alt and a movie. Skye and Mairin saw Kung Fu Panda III, and like a cool dad (or read an irresponsible one) I took Kaia to see the delightfully not too dark or slightly too violent Batman vs Superman- to which she said, “That was amazing.”
After a brief explanation about the difference between the Marvel and DC universes, and a trip down memory lane in which I described my Saturday mornings watching The Justice League, we both agreed that the music when Wonder Woman showed up was the coolest ever, and we agreed to see her full length film as soon as it comes out.
What can I say? The girl likes her movies and she is adequately desensitized to violence to enjoy more and more of them with me. The Huntsman series and Lord of the Rings are on tap and I am not sure which one of us is more excited. It’s not like we are showing her Beverly Hills Cop yet, right Geoff?
After the movie we came home, but I had to go to school to print up all our hotel vouchers. Once I got back, I took a nap. We had some dinner and I have been watching John Oliver and Samantha Bee videos on youtube. Next up, a bottle of champagne with Mairin, some episodes of Blackish, New Girl and maybe try out the new Chelsea Handler Does show everyone is talking about.
I’ll probably read a bit and go to sleep later than I should, because…..holiday.
That’s only day one and we aren’t even in Thailand yet.
Back home for a quick shower, then lunch at Alt and a movie. Skye and Mairin saw Kung Fu Panda III, and like a cool dad (or read an irresponsible one) I took Kaia to see the delightfully not too dark or slightly too violent Batman vs Superman- to which she said, “That was amazing.”
After a brief explanation about the difference between the Marvel and DC universes, and a trip down memory lane in which I described my Saturday mornings watching The Justice League, we both agreed that the music when Wonder Woman showed up was the coolest ever, and we agreed to see her full length film as soon as it comes out.
What can I say? The girl likes her movies and she is adequately desensitized to violence to enjoy more and more of them with me. The Huntsman series and Lord of the Rings are on tap and I am not sure which one of us is more excited. It’s not like we are showing her Beverly Hills Cop yet, right Geoff?
After the movie we came home, but I had to go to school to print up all our hotel vouchers. Once I got back, I took a nap. We had some dinner and I have been watching John Oliver and Samantha Bee videos on youtube. Next up, a bottle of champagne with Mairin, some episodes of Blackish, New Girl and maybe try out the new Chelsea Handler Does show everyone is talking about.
I’ll probably read a bit and go to sleep later than I should, because…..holiday.
That’s only day one and we aren’t even in Thailand yet.
March 22, 2016
Here Is The Gist
I should have known that today was gonna be a big hitter day when it started with Kaia asking, ”What happens when you die? What’s Good Friday? Why don’t you believe in God?”
I gave longer answers than what I’ve added below, but here is the gist:
What happens when you die?
Your body is broken back down into its essential elements, whether through cremation, burial or rot- the energy stored in your cells, that some people might call your soul, is released back into nature where it resurfaces as another form of life or matter. You have always been a part of nature and so you never actually existed, and when you die the body you inhabited simply returns back to the universe.
What’s Good Friday?
I gave a brief history of the Roman empire, the state of the Jews under said empire, spoke of Jesus as spokesmen for the Jews during reign of said empire. Mentioned that they were not too pleased with his help the poor, don’t be rich, love each other spiel so they had him killed. Oh and by the way some people believe that he was the son of God, and did I mentioned that back in those days when they killed people, they nailed people to a cross and so Jesus was nailed to a cross. Some people believe that he was killed for all the things people do wrong on earth.
After he died some people who loved him buried him in a cave and put a giant rock in front of it. Good Friday was the day he was killed. A few days later, on Sunday- Easter, he left the cave and returned to heaven.
Why don’t you believe in God?
I find the stories that people tell about God to be too simple, and I prefer to believe in science and nature and wonder. Also, I don’t like the fact that many of the stories say that we are made in his image, did I mention I don’t like that A.) he has a gender and B.) he is a man. I also am not a big fan of the idea that we are somehow different than the rest of nature and that we are meant to have dominion over the earth.
I do love the stories about Jesus being loving and kind and forgiving and non-violent, but I don’t need to believe in a god who punishes people to believe in love.
The questions ended. We finished breakfast and made our way to school.
…
Just got back from a mid-week movie, which is always a good idea. Saw Sisters, it just came out here, and it was crass and funny and over the top. Great way to laugh off a long day.
Created a first draft video for Learning 2.0 and it was so bad, I could barely watch it. I showed it to Paula and she looked confused. Back to the drawing board and a second draft tomorrow.
…
Rob Ford is dead.
Brussels is under attack.
The candidates are frothing at the mouth
and the world just got one shade darker.
again.
I gave longer answers than what I’ve added below, but here is the gist:
What happens when you die?
Your body is broken back down into its essential elements, whether through cremation, burial or rot- the energy stored in your cells, that some people might call your soul, is released back into nature where it resurfaces as another form of life or matter. You have always been a part of nature and so you never actually existed, and when you die the body you inhabited simply returns back to the universe.
What’s Good Friday?
I gave a brief history of the Roman empire, the state of the Jews under said empire, spoke of Jesus as spokesmen for the Jews during reign of said empire. Mentioned that they were not too pleased with his help the poor, don’t be rich, love each other spiel so they had him killed. Oh and by the way some people believe that he was the son of God, and did I mentioned that back in those days when they killed people, they nailed people to a cross and so Jesus was nailed to a cross. Some people believe that he was killed for all the things people do wrong on earth.
After he died some people who loved him buried him in a cave and put a giant rock in front of it. Good Friday was the day he was killed. A few days later, on Sunday- Easter, he left the cave and returned to heaven.
Why don’t you believe in God?
I find the stories that people tell about God to be too simple, and I prefer to believe in science and nature and wonder. Also, I don’t like the fact that many of the stories say that we are made in his image, did I mention I don’t like that A.) he has a gender and B.) he is a man. I also am not a big fan of the idea that we are somehow different than the rest of nature and that we are meant to have dominion over the earth.
I do love the stories about Jesus being loving and kind and forgiving and non-violent, but I don’t need to believe in a god who punishes people to believe in love.
The questions ended. We finished breakfast and made our way to school.
…
Just got back from a mid-week movie, which is always a good idea. Saw Sisters, it just came out here, and it was crass and funny and over the top. Great way to laugh off a long day.
Created a first draft video for Learning 2.0 and it was so bad, I could barely watch it. I showed it to Paula and she looked confused. Back to the drawing board and a second draft tomorrow.
…
Rob Ford is dead.
Brussels is under attack.
The candidates are frothing at the mouth
and the world just got one shade darker.
again.
March 15, 2013
yellowed
Every time I have brushed my teeth for the last few weeks, I have listened to a strange internal narration running through my head. I see the shots, feel the words, even hear the music.
Tonight, I made it come true:
Tonight, I made it come true:
Music by CSoul
yellowedIt was a fun way to spend Friday night. Hope you like it.
Your teeth will yellow
and appear crooked in your face.
They'll tell you about this,
but you won't believe them
Blindfolded by the invincibility of youth
the future feels so far away.
The present spiraling in circles and webs.
Wisdom, a distant luxury.
Your dreams will not come true
The "When I grow ups" will come and go
leaving you with some "what I am's"
or worse "what I should have beens."
One day the end feels closer than the beginning
and you have already forgotton so much.
A voice screams from within,
a stranger now
pleading for you to remember the promises
The places you could have gone
replaced with the place where you are.
The life you live.
Don't fret. Your mind will drift and dance through time.
You are everywhere, everyone all the time
Your teeth maybe yellow
but you brush anyway
They may identify you by them
when you are gone.
January 7, 2012
I Am Right Here
I saw E.T. for the first time when I was eight. Like most things from my childhood, my exact age had to be verified by a quick IMDB search, one that reveled the film was released in 1982, some simple math further tells us I was eight. Strange, felt younger.
In any case, the film, no matter when I first saw it was a milestone in my young life. Tonight, I watched it with my daughter Kaia. I wasn't sure if she was ready- it can be a bit intense- but she loved it. She was in a bit of a mood, so she acted silly and nervous for the first few minutes, but once we settled in, she was entranced.
She asked great questions:
"Daddy why are the scientists trying to stop Elliot if he is doing the right thing?"
"Is there anyway we can connect with other people and feel their feelings?"
I looked over at her as we watched the famous bike scene and found her jaw agape. We held hands. I nearly cried.
Sure as an adult, it is a bit melodramatic and over the top, with the John Williams score and all, but in that moment as the bike ascended, I was transported back in time. The two of us were transfixed by the power of imagination and the wonder of film.
I was worried how she would handle the sickness and confiscation of the house scenes. I remember those scenes as very dramatic, but she did fine.
"Are you okay?" I asked as E.T. lay pale and dying. She had tears in her eyes. She nodded, but wasn't sure.
"It's okay to let movies make us feel sad sometimes. Reminds us that we have feelings."
"I feel how I felt when that little blind kitten died." She said. Long Pause.
"But I am okay. I just hope he feels better soon. I know why Elliott is so upset. I can feel what he is feeling." She smiles. My heart breaks.
I started to think about all the films she has seen so far in her young life, so many animated sagas, but none of them have ever inspired such emotional connections. Yes, she is older now and more attuned to her emotions, but I can't think of a single Shrek movie that can fill a child with such emotions. No computer animated Toy Story film has ever grabbed her so intensely.
We both cried again as Elliott and E.T. said good bye. This time smiling and hugging.
"See I told you he would make it home."
"Yeah, but they won't be together. That is so sad and happy at the same time."
"I know. How does that feel?"
" I don't know."
"Me neither Kaia, but that is okay. We can just smile, cry and hug each other till we figure it out."
In any case, the film, no matter when I first saw it was a milestone in my young life. Tonight, I watched it with my daughter Kaia. I wasn't sure if she was ready- it can be a bit intense- but she loved it. She was in a bit of a mood, so she acted silly and nervous for the first few minutes, but once we settled in, she was entranced.
She asked great questions:
"Daddy why are the scientists trying to stop Elliot if he is doing the right thing?"
"Is there anyway we can connect with other people and feel their feelings?"
I looked over at her as we watched the famous bike scene and found her jaw agape. We held hands. I nearly cried.
Sure as an adult, it is a bit melodramatic and over the top, with the John Williams score and all, but in that moment as the bike ascended, I was transported back in time. The two of us were transfixed by the power of imagination and the wonder of film.
I was worried how she would handle the sickness and confiscation of the house scenes. I remember those scenes as very dramatic, but she did fine.
"Are you okay?" I asked as E.T. lay pale and dying. She had tears in her eyes. She nodded, but wasn't sure.
"It's okay to let movies make us feel sad sometimes. Reminds us that we have feelings."
"I feel how I felt when that little blind kitten died." She said. Long Pause.
"But I am okay. I just hope he feels better soon. I know why Elliott is so upset. I can feel what he is feeling." She smiles. My heart breaks.
I started to think about all the films she has seen so far in her young life, so many animated sagas, but none of them have ever inspired such emotional connections. Yes, she is older now and more attuned to her emotions, but I can't think of a single Shrek movie that can fill a child with such emotions. No computer animated Toy Story film has ever grabbed her so intensely.
We both cried again as Elliott and E.T. said good bye. This time smiling and hugging.
"See I told you he would make it home."
"Yeah, but they won't be together. That is so sad and happy at the same time."
"I know. How does that feel?"
" I don't know."
"Me neither Kaia, but that is okay. We can just smile, cry and hug each other till we figure it out."
July 28, 2011
Miral- A Review: Book and Film
So... I sort of love Julian Schnabel. I love Julian Schnabel. I loved Julian Schnabel? I don’t know where to start...
Wanting to know what had been translated from text to film, I read the book shortly after watching the film, (The soundtrack is first rate as well) but was disappointed by the dry lifelessness of the prose. Like a magician, Schnabel has given the flat novel life and filled it with color and emotion. Completely satisfied with my first Schnabel experience, I was ready to explore.
I immediately watched Basqiuat, another masterpiece. This time about Jean-Michel Basquiat:
A few years ago, before I had ever heard of the man I saw a little film called Before Night Falls. The film left me breathless with its beauty and perfection.
Before Night Falls is based on the autobiography of the same name by Cuban poet and novelist Reinaldo Arenas. In the film, Arenas, who was openly gay, is born in Oriente in 1943 and raised by his single mother and her parents, who soon move the entire family to Holguín. After moving to Havana in the sixties to continue his studies, Reinaldo begins to explore his ambitions, as well as his sexuality. After receiving an honorary mention in a writing contest, Arenas is offered the chance to publish his first work. Read more.
Wanting to know what had been translated from text to film, I read the book shortly after watching the film, (The soundtrack is first rate as well) but was disappointed by the dry lifelessness of the prose. Like a magician, Schnabel has given the flat novel life and filled it with color and emotion. Completely satisfied with my first Schnabel experience, I was ready to explore.
I immediately watched Basqiuat, another masterpiece. This time about Jean-Michel Basquiat:
an American artist. His career in art began as a graffiti artist in New York City in the late 1970s, and in the 1980s produced Neo-expressionist painting. Basquiat died of a heroin overdose on August 12, 1988, at the age of 27. Read more.
Once again, Schnabel exposes the idiosyncrasies and passion of art through the medium of film. His films blend content and form, subject and medium, leaving only a bricolage of artistic sensibilities. Scenes, characters, music all layered effortlessly to create a documentary like vision of his subjects and the worlds they inhabit. Two for two. Loving Schnabel.
Next came, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly a much slower and emptier film. It is:
the true story of Elle editor Jean-Dominique Bauby who suffers a stroke and has to live with an almost totally paralyzed body; only his left eye isn't paralyzed.
What it lacks in plot, the film makes up for with signature Schnabel colors, camera movement as story teller, and a soundtrack that acts as part character/part narrator. I was not crazy about it, but The Diving Bell is a solid film without a doubt. I am only disappointed that I have yet to read the book. It is still on my list.
Wow! What an introduction. This post was meant to be about Schnabel's latest film, Miral. When I first stumbled across the synopsis of the film, I knew it warranted some research. I quickly learned it was based on a book about the life of Rula Jebreal who is apparently Schnabel's girlfriend. I read up on the story:
A chronicle of Hind Husseini's effort to establish an orphanage in Jerusalem after the 1948 Arab–Israeli War, the Deir Yassin Massacre, and the establishment of the state of Israel.I watched the trailer and ordered the book:
Jerusalem, 1948. On her way to work, Hind Husseini comes across 55 orphaned children in the street. She takes them home to give them food and shelter. Within six months, 55 had grown to almost 2,000, and the Dar Al-Tifel Institute was born.
In 1978, at the age of 7, Miral was sent to the Institute by her father following her mother's death. Brought up safely inside the Institute's walls, she is naïve to the troubles that surround her. Then, in 1988, at the age of 17, she is assigned to teach at a refugee camp where she is awakened to the reality of the Palestinian refugees. When she falls for Hani, a militant, she finds herself torn between the First Intifada of her people and Mama Hind's belief that education is the road to peace. Read more
I wanted to start from the source this time and see where Schnabel would go. I wanted to see if I could guess what he would emphasize, what he would leave out. The novel, which is autobiographical and based on a true story, starts off a bit journalistic and dry, but quickly rushes toward melodrama. Somewhere in the middle, the story finds a perfect equilibrium and becomes riveting. I read over one-hundred pages in one sitting. The interwoven story lines and characters make for a powerful emotional web spun across one of the most divisive conflicts the world has ever known. Never overtly political or personal, Miral finds the balance between the two human conditions and begs you to define the difference.
It is a must read for anyone looking to gain a basic understanding of the Israeli Palestinian conflict. While not completely objective and unbiased, it is honest in its direction. It is a human story of love, failure, anger and eventually peace. The characters like the nations they represent must learn how to be themselves before they can ever learn to understand the enemy.
So there I was last night: research done, book read, ready to see Schnabel do his thing...and it was a disaster. How he took a text filled with life, turmoil, conflict, emotion, set against a backdrop of war and peace, and the beautiful city of Jerusalem, and create a fragmented, dull, series of poorly acted scenes is beyond me.
Schnabel has taken a group of amazingly complex characters, mostly women, and turned them into caricatures and unlikable mannequins. The plot never flows, and if I had not read the book, I would not have felt any connection to any of it.
I wanted to love it, but this film does not do this story justice. I recommend you read the book and wait for Schnabel's next work. Hopefully, he will focus on another eccentric and doomed artist, Kurt Cobain perhaps, Elliot Smith would be a dream come true, and leave the politics to those more adept.
April 20, 2010
Empty of Color
I am on an airplane and everyone, including my daughter is asleep, and this means I can watch movies. I have committed myself to almost five hours of Clint Eastwood’s sorrow filled genius. I am bathed in various shades of defused grays, a void empty of color, charged with emotion; I am glued to the tiny screen in front of me.
I have decided to watch Letters from Iwo Jima followed by Flags of Our Fathers. I know nothing of this island, this story, this battle, this sadness accept for this photograph.
The films themselves are brilliant. The first, Letter from Iwo Jima, portrays the Battle of Iwo Jima from the perspective of the Japanese soldiers and is a companion piece to Eastwood's Flags of Our Fathers, which depicts the same battle from the American viewpoint. You can read more about each film on the wikipedia pages, but I highly recommend you carve out five hours one night and watch them together. I cannot say which I would recommend seeing first, but they should be viewed tandem.
I couldn't help but sit in the darkness contemplating the needless, pathetic human violence we so often honor. Rethinking words like glory, honor, freedom, and bravery. How long will we allow our young men to be manipulated by the few men in power who long to spill so much unnecessary blood?
Despite Eastwood’s poignant and intertwining stories, I couldn’t help but think how ridiculous it all seems. This propaganda wrapped in dogma that we mistake for truth. These constant wars for freedom and country and god. All sides blinded by self-righteous nationalism. What is it about our countries that so many men feel the need to kill and die for them? How long till they see that they are mere pawns in a game they were never meant to play? How ling before we see the other soldier as the friend and the governments as enemies?
The story of Ira Hayes is one of the saddest things I have ever heard. I encourage you to read the wikipedi page here.
I leave you with a few clips. Do yourself a favor and watch these two films. They will stay with you for some time.
I have decided to watch Letters from Iwo Jima followed by Flags of Our Fathers. I know nothing of this island, this story, this battle, this sadness accept for this photograph.
The films themselves are brilliant. The first, Letter from Iwo Jima, portrays the Battle of Iwo Jima from the perspective of the Japanese soldiers and is a companion piece to Eastwood's Flags of Our Fathers, which depicts the same battle from the American viewpoint. You can read more about each film on the wikipedia pages, but I highly recommend you carve out five hours one night and watch them together. I cannot say which I would recommend seeing first, but they should be viewed tandem.
I couldn't help but sit in the darkness contemplating the needless, pathetic human violence we so often honor. Rethinking words like glory, honor, freedom, and bravery. How long will we allow our young men to be manipulated by the few men in power who long to spill so much unnecessary blood?
Despite Eastwood’s poignant and intertwining stories, I couldn’t help but think how ridiculous it all seems. This propaganda wrapped in dogma that we mistake for truth. These constant wars for freedom and country and god. All sides blinded by self-righteous nationalism. What is it about our countries that so many men feel the need to kill and die for them? How long till they see that they are mere pawns in a game they were never meant to play? How ling before we see the other soldier as the friend and the governments as enemies?
The story of Ira Hayes is one of the saddest things I have ever heard. I encourage you to read the wikipedi page here.
I leave you with a few clips. Do yourself a favor and watch these two films. They will stay with you for some time.
January 31, 2010
Where The Wild Things Are
It has taken me a while to finally get around to watching Where The Wild Things Are. I think part of me was so worried about being disappointed that I wanted to keep the idea of the film more real than actually watching it. I mean, Spike Jones+Dave Eggers+Karen O should = perfection right?
Well…yes and no. My friend Anthony emailed me last night after I told him I had finally seen the film:
I wanted to share some thoughts, because the film has lingered in my mind all day; I can’t seem to shake it. Please click play on the video below and let the song play as you read, because this song epitomizes the overwhelming sense of perfect sadness this film so perfectly embodies.
Ultimately the film is about dysfunction, emptiness, and human relationships. It shatters the myth that it will be all okay and replaces it with the cold stone truth that human beings struggle to make sense of the barrenness we feel both alone and in the company of those we love.
Although Max himself is broken, he is asked to take fix the problems of a group of dysfunctional wild things. He himself has yet to learn how to deal with his own anger, alienation, and loneliness, yet he makes false promises to the monsters, which in turn set up a series of disappointments for everyone. The film is really about how we cling to others to help deal with our anxieties, never stepping back to see that they too maybe suffering as we do.
Eggers and Jonez examine a series of relationships between family members, lovers, friends, and competitors by exposing their jealousies, competitiveness, trust, and ultimately love.
On the surface the movie is a quirky, sometimes silly puppet show, but upon closer look it is an investigation of the human condition. It is the story of every lonely runaway who has felt that they could find the answers through escape. But as anyone who has ever tried to runaway from their problems or placed them on the shoulders of other, Max realizes that only he can deal with his issues. Not by running away, but by allowing himself to be loved and to truly love others as they are, not as we want them to be.
My friend was right to say he hated the boy; I think that was the point. He is a spoiled, broken little boy, who is unable to come to term with his emotions. By escaping into his imagination and coming face-to-face with the things that are wilder than himself, he realizes that human emotions can be very damaging to himself and to others, unless he learns to control them.
My favorite line of the film was
From that line on, I remembered that is was Dave Eggers putting the words into the mouths of these beautiful monsters and Spike Jonez was the one pulling their strings. Even in their wretchedness, both Max and the wild things do not simply sit idly by and wait to be overtaken by grief. They let the “wild rumpus” start. It is through play and chaos and fun that they deal with their sorrow. Only once he lets his guard, can Max truly see how fragile and tender everyone is.
Did I think the movie was perfect? Unfortunately no. But it has made me see the classic short children’s book in a whole new light. Perhaps Jonez’s vision is not the one everyone who is in love with the book will want to see, but he opens up your mind and your heart and plants his seed. It will leave you thinking for days after.
Well…yes and no. My friend Anthony emailed me last night after I told him I had finally seen the film:
I liked the movie, but not as much as I wanted. I did cry once however. Hated the boy.
I wanted to share some thoughts, because the film has lingered in my mind all day; I can’t seem to shake it. Please click play on the video below and let the song play as you read, because this song epitomizes the overwhelming sense of perfect sadness this film so perfectly embodies.
Ultimately the film is about dysfunction, emptiness, and human relationships. It shatters the myth that it will be all okay and replaces it with the cold stone truth that human beings struggle to make sense of the barrenness we feel both alone and in the company of those we love.
Although Max himself is broken, he is asked to take fix the problems of a group of dysfunctional wild things. He himself has yet to learn how to deal with his own anger, alienation, and loneliness, yet he makes false promises to the monsters, which in turn set up a series of disappointments for everyone. The film is really about how we cling to others to help deal with our anxieties, never stepping back to see that they too maybe suffering as we do.
Eggers and Jonez examine a series of relationships between family members, lovers, friends, and competitors by exposing their jealousies, competitiveness, trust, and ultimately love.
On the surface the movie is a quirky, sometimes silly puppet show, but upon closer look it is an investigation of the human condition. It is the story of every lonely runaway who has felt that they could find the answers through escape. But as anyone who has ever tried to runaway from their problems or placed them on the shoulders of other, Max realizes that only he can deal with his issues. Not by running away, but by allowing himself to be loved and to truly love others as they are, not as we want them to be.
My friend was right to say he hated the boy; I think that was the point. He is a spoiled, broken little boy, who is unable to come to term with his emotions. By escaping into his imagination and coming face-to-face with the things that are wilder than himself, he realizes that human emotions can be very damaging to himself and to others, unless he learns to control them.
My favorite line of the film was
Happiness is not the best way to be happy.Play this song next:
From that line on, I remembered that is was Dave Eggers putting the words into the mouths of these beautiful monsters and Spike Jonez was the one pulling their strings. Even in their wretchedness, both Max and the wild things do not simply sit idly by and wait to be overtaken by grief. They let the “wild rumpus” start. It is through play and chaos and fun that they deal with their sorrow. Only once he lets his guard, can Max truly see how fragile and tender everyone is.
Did I think the movie was perfect? Unfortunately no. But it has made me see the classic short children’s book in a whole new light. Perhaps Jonez’s vision is not the one everyone who is in love with the book will want to see, but he opens up your mind and your heart and plants his seed. It will leave you thinking for days after.
September 21, 2009
Away We Go
Another quick story of connections. I love Dave Eggers. I have read everything he has ever written, so when I found out that he wrote the screenplay for the film Away We Go, I knew I had to see it.
The film itself was a above average, but not perfect. I was expecting something that would change my life, instead I watched a movie that was mildly entertaining. No I take that back, it was really good. No, it was just good. I can't tell. I should write a better review, but I haven't got it in me tonight, so I will just say see this film, don't take it too seriously and enjoy yourself.
But the real reason I am writing this post is to share with you how I found Alexi Murdoch. The entire film was scored by this modern day Nick Drake. This soothingly perfect folksy guitar soundtrack transformed this film into something special.
I am listening to the few CD's I downloaded by Murdoch as I type these words, and even after one song, I can tell he is going to be something special. If you like Neil Halstead or Bon Iver check this artist out.
I am sure I will be writing much more about him in the coming days.
The film itself was a above average, but not perfect. I was expecting something that would change my life, instead I watched a movie that was mildly entertaining. No I take that back, it was really good. No, it was just good. I can't tell. I should write a better review, but I haven't got it in me tonight, so I will just say see this film, don't take it too seriously and enjoy yourself.
But the real reason I am writing this post is to share with you how I found Alexi Murdoch. The entire film was scored by this modern day Nick Drake. This soothingly perfect folksy guitar soundtrack transformed this film into something special.I am listening to the few CD's I downloaded by Murdoch as I type these words, and even after one song, I can tell he is going to be something special. If you like Neil Halstead or Bon Iver check this artist out.
I am sure I will be writing much more about him in the coming days.
September 17, 2008
A Decisive Hour
My friend Ari once gave me some great guidance. Actually he has repeatedly advised me on this matter, but for once, I hope I can follow his sage-like wisdom.
I will only give you some background information, explain how I serendipitously collaborated with a young woman from Portugal, and let you arrive at your own conclusions about the film.
On July 11th of this year, while I was in California, I went on a hike in Samuel P. Taylor Park. The park holds a very special place in my heart, because as a child I spent many weekends playing along side its creak and getting lost amongst its trees.
I covered approximately seven miles which took about six hours. I carried my ipod, an SLR camera, and a video camera. I feel myself wanting to say more, but I will not.
Note on collaboration: Several days ago I received a comment on my youtube cover of Society by Eddie Vedder from the Into The Wild soundtrack, from DinossauraRufianex. She informed me that she too had covered the song and that I should check it out. As soon as I heard Madalena’s version, I knew that it had to be a part of my video. I emailed her and asked if it would be okay to use her song and she said of course.
I am always thrilled when the web helps foster this type of connectivity amongst strangers. I hope that she enjoys her voice as part of my vision and that she will understand her connection to my intention.
Without further adieu…please enjoy A Decisive Hour.
So what do you think? Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section.
credits:
A Never Ending Math Equation by Modest Mouse covered by Sun Kil Moon
Sunflower by Low
Society by Jerry Hannan covered by Eddie Vedder covered by me covered by Madalena
When presenting a piece of art, let the piece or work speak for itself. Refrain from over explaining what you intended to do.Sounds simple! However, it is obvious by this brief intro for my second short film, A Decisive Hour, that it is easier said than done for me to present my work without trying to, at least slightly, elucidate my intent.
I will only give you some background information, explain how I serendipitously collaborated with a young woman from Portugal, and let you arrive at your own conclusions about the film.
On July 11th of this year, while I was in California, I went on a hike in Samuel P. Taylor Park. The park holds a very special place in my heart, because as a child I spent many weekends playing along side its creak and getting lost amongst its trees.
I covered approximately seven miles which took about six hours. I carried my ipod, an SLR camera, and a video camera. I feel myself wanting to say more, but I will not.
Note on collaboration: Several days ago I received a comment on my youtube cover of Society by Eddie Vedder from the Into The Wild soundtrack, from DinossauraRufianex. She informed me that she too had covered the song and that I should check it out. As soon as I heard Madalena’s version, I knew that it had to be a part of my video. I emailed her and asked if it would be okay to use her song and she said of course.
I am always thrilled when the web helps foster this type of connectivity amongst strangers. I hope that she enjoys her voice as part of my vision and that she will understand her connection to my intention.
Without further adieu…please enjoy A Decisive Hour.
So what do you think? Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section.
credits:
A Never Ending Math Equation by Modest Mouse covered by Sun Kil Moon
Sunflower by Low
Society by Jerry Hannan covered by Eddie Vedder covered by me covered by Madalena
November 20, 2007
New Art Form
Pixar has outdone itself. I always been a big fan of their films. I thought Nemo was cute, I loved Monster’s Inc., and while I thought Car’s was terrible I allowed them their one mistake, but the latest Pixar film has started a new art form. Ratatouille is an amazingly intricate and powerful sensory experience. Everything from the setting, to the visual graphics, the script, and direction is perfect.
It is easy to call animated films like The Triplets of Belleville artful, but Pixar movies are often see as yet another marketing tool of the Disney empire, but this film is different. It stands as a testament to the power of visual imagery and great story telling. This is a must see film.
It is easy to call animated films like The Triplets of Belleville artful, but Pixar movies are often see as yet another marketing tool of the Disney empire, but this film is different. It stands as a testament to the power of visual imagery and great story telling. This is a must see film.
May 18, 2007
Have You Ever Heard of Jo Wilding?
I was browsing through my news pages when I came across this article, which led me to a book called Don't Shoot The Clowns by a blogger named Jo Wilding, which later led me to a film called A Letter To A Prime Minister. I guess my point is that there is a lot of information out here in cyber land, and we cannot simply sit back and say we do not know what is happening through out the world. The hardest part is knowing what to do about it. I am still at a loss. However, I for one am excited to get my hands on this book and movie and try to put a human face on the occupation."You can’t talk about democracy and ‘Do you agree with the war or not, did we do the right thing?’ if you don’t know what we actually did and what actually happened to people. I was just in one city and I talked to a fraction of the people who were affected but still, I think I was able to hear and then tell a lot of people’s stories. The number of people who read the blog and responded to it backed that up.”
March 7, 2007
The Nature of Pain
I have been troubled by the fact that I have only been posting Self-Portrait challenges lately. I have a million things I want to write about, but I always feel that I don’t have the time to get it right, or that no one cares enough to read about my seemingly meaningless thoughts. So, I have made a conscious decision to simply post whatever I am thinking about and not concern myself too much with audience. The following post and those like it may not be as well crafted as I would like, but maybe a line or two may resonate with someone out there. If nothing else I hope this act of daily writing will get me back in the habit of writing more consistently. I suppose the blog really blurs the line between published and drafted work. Enough explanation here goes:
At school, I am knee deep into my poetry unit and listening to a lot of The Strokes. I am trying to convey the concept of sonic imagery vs sound effects in poetry to my students. They are only thirteen but they shake their heads affirmatively when I ask, “Does that makes sense?”
Last night, I watched a movie called Sherry Baby, about a drug addicted ex-con mom Maggie Gyllenhall trying to get right. It is a solid B-. The night before I saw Half Nelson. This film places somewhere in my top five movies of all time. I think at this moment it maybe number one. You can listen to most of the amazing soundtrack here. I am researching dialectics and writing my review/manifesto on the movie in my head. I am weighted down by the guilt that I have yet to begin this piece; maybe after this post I will actually start writing. See this film!
These two films have had me thinking about the nature of pain, addiction, healing and growth. I am now more than ever painfully aware of the fragility of the human creature. This terrifies me, because I am trying my best not to “break” my daughter with my own pain. See We Are All Broken for elucidation.
In other news, I am going to a concert tonight by myself featuring Laila's Lounge, a band I have already seen, a female song writer, a hip-hop band, and two guys who make music from old Nintendo songs. It is a Wednesday night; I am 32, married, have a kid, and I am living in a South East Asian country by the way. Throughout this young century, I have spent more time out of the US than in it, a pattern that will not change till maybe some time around 2020.
I am letting my hair grow long again, and I am combing it forward based on Ari’s advice. It looks sloppy, and I finally like it after months of not being able to look at myself in the mirror.
I can’t tell if everything is perfect or if I am lost again. I am excited to wake up everyday, and I feel content when I sleep. I love my job, my wife and my kid. That has to mean something. I am thinking a lot about what a friend called, in his drunken relapse, the education of caring and how it applies to everything we do. I am trying to generate more love and spread it around to as many people as I can. It is difficult because somehow the force that opposes love takes over. (See dialectics.)
This morning as I fed Kaia breakfast, we were listening to The Broken Melody soundtrack and Jack Johnson sang:
At school, I am knee deep into my poetry unit and listening to a lot of The Strokes. I am trying to convey the concept of sonic imagery vs sound effects in poetry to my students. They are only thirteen but they shake their heads affirmatively when I ask, “Does that makes sense?”
Last night, I watched a movie called Sherry Baby, about a drug addicted ex-con mom Maggie Gyllenhall trying to get right. It is a solid B-. The night before I saw Half Nelson. This film places somewhere in my top five movies of all time. I think at this moment it maybe number one. You can listen to most of the amazing soundtrack here. I am researching dialectics and writing my review/manifesto on the movie in my head. I am weighted down by the guilt that I have yet to begin this piece; maybe after this post I will actually start writing. See this film!
These two films have had me thinking about the nature of pain, addiction, healing and growth. I am now more than ever painfully aware of the fragility of the human creature. This terrifies me, because I am trying my best not to “break” my daughter with my own pain. See We Are All Broken for elucidation.
In other news, I am going to a concert tonight by myself featuring Laila's Lounge, a band I have already seen, a female song writer, a hip-hop band, and two guys who make music from old Nintendo songs. It is a Wednesday night; I am 32, married, have a kid, and I am living in a South East Asian country by the way. Throughout this young century, I have spent more time out of the US than in it, a pattern that will not change till maybe some time around 2020.
I am letting my hair grow long again, and I am combing it forward based on Ari’s advice. It looks sloppy, and I finally like it after months of not being able to look at myself in the mirror.
I can’t tell if everything is perfect or if I am lost again. I am excited to wake up everyday, and I feel content when I sleep. I love my job, my wife and my kid. That has to mean something. I am thinking a lot about what a friend called, in his drunken relapse, the education of caring and how it applies to everything we do. I am trying to generate more love and spread it around to as many people as I can. It is difficult because somehow the force that opposes love takes over. (See dialectics.)
This morning as I fed Kaia breakfast, we were listening to The Broken Melody soundtrack and Jack Johnson sang:
Why don't I just give youI sang the words as Kaia laughed and waved her hands. It was still dark outside and the voice in my head was quiet and at peace.
Everything you'll take from me
'Cuz nobody owns anything
and everyone is free
August 10, 2006
Back To School
I have finally established a small readership and it may appear that I have abandoned you. I guess the realities of life are catching up to me. School started this week, and I am back in the classroom. Life has been busy, and I have been lax with my blogging duties. If you were a regular reader this summer, please continue to check into Intrepid Flame; I will try and post at least once a week. I will also be vigilant to stay up to date with my Self-Portraits (I love this project) and Poetry Thursday. The intensive political discussions may have to take a back seat, and I guess that’s not a bad thing.
I also apologize for the reduction in comments on the blogs I have been reading all summer. I will just say that I will read when I can and keep up the good work.
I will leave you with a MUST SEE MOVIE. Please rent and/or by the movie Why We Fight. It will not teach much new if you are somewhat aware of the military industrial complex and the affects of war profiteering on the American democracy, but it is a very well done easy to follow piece of film making. If however you are not to familiar with how the US defense department works please watch this movie.
I also apologize for the reduction in comments on the blogs I have been reading all summer. I will just say that I will read when I can and keep up the good work.
I will leave you with a MUST SEE MOVIE. Please rent and/or by the movie Why We Fight. It will not teach much new if you are somewhat aware of the military industrial complex and the affects of war profiteering on the American democracy, but it is a very well done easy to follow piece of film making. If however you are not to familiar with how the US defense department works please watch this movie.
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