Fourth

Network [1976]

One of the best movies. Ever. This is the movie Robert Murdoch was watching when he got the idea for the Fox "News" Network. This is just so incredibly well written. Which is enough for me. I mean, the acting is good. Really good, actually. But the movie is just a solid delivery of text. Wonderful, spine-chillingly fabulous text. But that is it. There is minimal action or physical movement of any kind. Basically because there is no room for it. Hell, it is a Sidney Lumet film. I mean, 12 Angry Men took place almost entirely in one room. Plus it isn't needed. The lines are king. One result of that is the timelessness of the film. Look past the 70's hair-dos and bell-bottoms, obsolete technology etc. and you have a movie that could have opened yesterday. And it would have been received as a timely wake-up call. A fresh critique of TV's kiss of death to society. Or as one character puts it in the film: "You are television incarnate, Diana, indifferent to suffering, insensitive to joy. All of life is reduced to the common rubble of banality. War, murder, death are all the same to you as bottles of beer. The daily business of life is a corrupt comedy. You even shatter the sensations of time and space into split-seconds and instant replays. You are madness, Diana, virulent madness, and everything you touch dies with you." But there is another pillar holding up the movie. Another aspect of society getting a whooping. The conglomerate. The corporation. The Network. Actually, the movie is more about how big business corrupts television than about how television corrupts people and their society. Kind of like Syriana, which I really look forward to seeing. I'll end with a quote from the Network's chairman of the board. This says it all: "There is no America. There is no democracy. There is only IBM and ITT and AT&T and DuPont, Dow, Union Carbide, and Exxon. Those are the nations of the world today. What do you think the Russians talk about in their councils of state? Karl Marx? They get out their linear programming charts, statistical decision theories, minimax solutions, and compute the price-cost probabilities of their transactions and investments, just like we do. We no longer live in a world of nations and ideologies, Mr. Beale. The world is a college of corporations, inexorably determined by the immutable bylaws of business. The world is a business, Mr. Beale."

 

Firefly

Sci-fi. Space opera. Western?

Of course it got cancelled. Of course. See, I actually loved it.

So it got cancelled. Just one of those moments when you realize that you don't really have that much in common with most people. That on a daily basis you look at what this junk-eating, gun-toting, bible-thumping, SUV-driving, fake-polite, material-possession-crazy, ignorant, petty, scared, mindboggingly boring, narcissistic world you live in dishes out and you try to make sense of it. You try to go "well... yeah... I get it... sort of. Heh-heh?". And then smile. Like an idiot. Even if you just do not get it. And hopefully never will. Even if you don't know who 'Nick and Jess' are, you don't want to know, and you certainly do not want to hear any more about their stupid divorce. Even if you do think that racking up obscene amounts of deficits for your children to pay off is stupid. Even if you don't think the president knows what the hell he is talking about. Even if you always thought attacking Iraq was a stupid, just plainly insane thing to do. Even still. You go through the motions. Play your part. Every. Single. Day. Alternating your own fake smile and fake 'excuse me', plus the even fakeier 'how are you', with no real question mark attached to it.

I'm just an alien. And I pray I will never, ever, ever never ever belong.

Take me out
to the black.
Tell 'em I ain't comin' back.
Burn the land and boil the sea.
You can't take the sky from me.

Lights, music, action

Merry Christmas.

Gotta love this country. Wacky, but in a sincere way.

Angel in the Garden

Back in black

Rain in my eyes. Coming out of the black.

I walked out of the terminal, and into the arms of this gusty darkness. The driver said something about how glad he was that it was raining. I knew what he was trying to say. I know this place. He just meant that he was glad that it was raining, because that meant that it was warmer. That is usually the choice, this time of year: Rain and mild, or clear and freezing. The wind is a permanent bonus.

Maybe it just suits me to feel alone. To yearn for closeness. For warmth. Why else do I keep landing back in that position?

I walked down by the harbor. Skipped on large boulders, fed pebbles to the ocean. I had missed the sea. It was this strange shade of dark emerald green. Rumbling. Commanding respect. Straining for calmness. Disarmingly enamoring.

Your mind is a sea of turmoil. In its natural state. You flow with your emotions, until you decide to try to tame them. You go 'enough is enough!' or 'I will cut you down, because you do not make sense' or 'because this hurts'. But hurting is part of it. How else can you really know that you are alive?

At noon, I went and gave blood. My blood pressure was 144 over 70. What? I have always been 125 over 60-something. The nurse was a beautiful older woman. She used to be a beautiful, young woman. You can always tell. No matter how old or how fat they get. How much they've drunk or smoked or stressed or whatever. You can always tell. Not because you can necessarily picture what they used to look like. But because no beautiful woman will stay oblivious to her own beauty through her whole life. At some point, they all realize it. They become aware of it. Some flaunt it, use it. Others shy away, try to hide it. Or over-compensate. Try to be 'normal'. Luckily, some just don't care. A few don't even care at all. But they know. They all know. And you can see it. In their eyes.

She listened to the shock of this mild thirty-something that he just might not be all that young with a perfect 120/60 anymore. Smiled. And said gently "why don't I try this again, the machine tends to act up sometimes." She strapped me in again. Hit the button. I closed my eyes and breathed more calmly. "See? That did not hurt, now did it?" 126 over 71. I let out a sigh of relief. And then she said "Consistency is bliss." I instinctly said "Really?" She smiled. "Yes." "In all applications?" Another smile. She was quiet for a while. Then she looked up. "Yes, in every application. Some people always want change. Excitement. But being able to depend on your life being the way you think it will be is a luxury."

And so many people actually think that. No sudden changes. No unexpected financial challenges. No new shower to learn how to not scold you. No new language to let you fuck-up and say a million new stupid things in. No new climate. No new laws. No new people. New relationships. New smiles. New cries. Just peace. And predictability.

And who am I to question that? Am I doing all that well? With my ever-restless self? With my thirst, my curiosity, my compassion, my lust for life?

No, I am back in black.

Smiles

Just a few of the more than 40 kids (new record!) that I showered with chocolate tonight.

This is one of the things that I actually like about this country. For the most part, people here are really good to their kids. They take an interest in what they are doing, they take good care of them, and they play with them. Behind almost every group of grinning kids tonight lurked some equally giddy parents, excitedly supporting their trembling offspring, praising them for their nerve to come up to this ghoulish house on the hill, rejoicing with them over the loot they reaped as a result.

A society that treats its children gently could yet be saved.

Halloween pumpkin

Smiling to me, on our street, at 7:30 this morning.