You wait for the tears to fall, but they won’t
You think you should know what to say, but you don’t
Here at the break of day, the world moving on its way
Without her
You sitting there staring into the distance
Like you’re putting up some kind of resistance
But you better seek the dawn
It’s like this river that you’re on
Here where the sorrows flow, with all you will never know
About her
Here, you’re here
The city waking up off in the distance
They’re all working on some other existence
But you can’t quite seem to care, like you know they’re not going anywhere
Here were the sorrows flow
Here where the questions grow, with all you will never know
About her
You wait for the tears to fall, but they won’t
You think you should know what to say, but you don’t
Here at the break of dawn, the world moving on
Without her
- Jackson Browne
Feb 26, 2010
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 23, 2010
Dec. 13, 2004 to Feb. 23, 2010
Fuck. How many days is that? Somewhere around 1896?
I was hit by a cab while walking across a street in Waikiki on Dec 13th, 2004.
I just heard from my "lawyer" this morning (Feb 23, 2010) that we can settle the case for x amount. Well, that "x" amount equals less than a few dollars per day for the past 1896 days.. and NOTHING for having to live with a bad knee and a strained neck for the rest of my life.
American justice is a pile of crap.
Think about it - two people walk across a marked crosswalk and are hit by a cab. One person does NOT have injuries that will stay with her for the rest of her life and her case settles for the maximum amount possible with the type of insurance policy carried by the cab driver. The other person - who HAS injuries for the rest of his life - will get less than half of that amount for his case - SAME "LAWYER", SAME CAB DRIVER, SAME ACCIDENT, SAME NIGHT, SAME INSURANCE COMPANY.
Same BULLSHIT is what I say.
Jesus this sucks.
I was hit by a cab while walking across a street in Waikiki on Dec 13th, 2004.
I just heard from my "lawyer" this morning (Feb 23, 2010) that we can settle the case for x amount. Well, that "x" amount equals less than a few dollars per day for the past 1896 days.. and NOTHING for having to live with a bad knee and a strained neck for the rest of my life.
American justice is a pile of crap.
Think about it - two people walk across a marked crosswalk and are hit by a cab. One person does NOT have injuries that will stay with her for the rest of her life and her case settles for the maximum amount possible with the type of insurance policy carried by the cab driver. The other person - who HAS injuries for the rest of his life - will get less than half of that amount for his case - SAME "LAWYER", SAME CAB DRIVER, SAME ACCIDENT, SAME NIGHT, SAME INSURANCE COMPANY.
Same BULLSHIT is what I say.
Jesus this sucks.
Feb 20, 2010
Feb 19, 2010
I miss being involved with live television...
I'm a former director, camera op, etc., and even though it was mainly with a public access station about ten years ago, I will say this - Live TV is the shiznit.
No drug comes close to the adrenaline you feel when the countdown begins.. 10, 9, 8, 7.. the absolute best.
Waxing somewhat nostalgic for those days led me to seek out gems on YouTube... and I recently re-discovered one of my favorite live television sketches of all time.
In late '54 or early '55, on his show called "Caesar's Hour", Sid Caesar and Nanette Fabray performed a skit live (everything was live back then) which, in essence, was an argument set to Beethoven's 5th, in my opinion, one of the classic television comedy skits of all time.
A link: Argument to Beethoven's 5th
Of course there are many, many other funny memories from early television, but that skit appeals to my strong feelings about visual communication. Successful visuals can be dis-assembled and each piece will still hold up and communicate on it's own.
Images can, and should, tell a story without words or sound so that when sound is added, the end result is complimented by the addition of the sound. Many times, the opposite is true - a well thought out sound scape can be the main ingredient in telling a story so that when visuals are added, they compliment and/or enlighten the storytelling process. I used to use those theories when teaching or instructing others how to produce television programs. I might start by giving the students a baseball, bat and glove and ask them to build a drama with those elements alone - no actors, no words, etc., or I might just ask them to tell me a story without sound or dialogue using settings or materials of their choice. That exercise would always surprise me with the inventiveness of the students - if they got my meaning.
I am so grateful that my father helped me find my interest in film/movie making/editing when I was young. Thanks to him I could write, shoot and edit 8mm & 16mm film before I turned 10 years old. That passion has never left me.. it's been sidetracked by life getting in the way, but the passion still burns within.
To think of the "old days", the early days of television and film production in America is a wonderful way I enjoy spending some of my time. Yes, I do wish I could have been around the industry back then - blah, blah blah.. and I do feel very fortunate to have grown up when I did. If you are familiar with a TV show called "The Wonder Years" well, that was my life.. right down to the brother who was two years older than I and the hippie sister who was part of the revolution.. The girl's name wasn't Winnie.. but I was friends with a girl named Winnie back then...
Anyway, today I find myself missing those years, those thoughts and feelings and the excitement of live TV.
No drug comes close to the adrenaline you feel when the countdown begins.. 10, 9, 8, 7.. the absolute best.
Waxing somewhat nostalgic for those days led me to seek out gems on YouTube... and I recently re-discovered one of my favorite live television sketches of all time.
In late '54 or early '55, on his show called "Caesar's Hour", Sid Caesar and Nanette Fabray performed a skit live (everything was live back then) which, in essence, was an argument set to Beethoven's 5th, in my opinion, one of the classic television comedy skits of all time.
A link: Argument to Beethoven's 5th
Of course there are many, many other funny memories from early television, but that skit appeals to my strong feelings about visual communication. Successful visuals can be dis-assembled and each piece will still hold up and communicate on it's own.
Images can, and should, tell a story without words or sound so that when sound is added, the end result is complimented by the addition of the sound. Many times, the opposite is true - a well thought out sound scape can be the main ingredient in telling a story so that when visuals are added, they compliment and/or enlighten the storytelling process. I used to use those theories when teaching or instructing others how to produce television programs. I might start by giving the students a baseball, bat and glove and ask them to build a drama with those elements alone - no actors, no words, etc., or I might just ask them to tell me a story without sound or dialogue using settings or materials of their choice. That exercise would always surprise me with the inventiveness of the students - if they got my meaning.
I am so grateful that my father helped me find my interest in film/movie making/editing when I was young. Thanks to him I could write, shoot and edit 8mm & 16mm film before I turned 10 years old. That passion has never left me.. it's been sidetracked by life getting in the way, but the passion still burns within.
To think of the "old days", the early days of television and film production in America is a wonderful way I enjoy spending some of my time. Yes, I do wish I could have been around the industry back then - blah, blah blah.. and I do feel very fortunate to have grown up when I did. If you are familiar with a TV show called "The Wonder Years" well, that was my life.. right down to the brother who was two years older than I and the hippie sister who was part of the revolution.. The girl's name wasn't Winnie.. but I was friends with a girl named Winnie back then...
Anyway, today I find myself missing those years, those thoughts and feelings and the excitement of live TV.
Feb 17, 2010
Killer set-up lines for a film...
Some of the best film "set-up" dialogue I've heard in a long time:
"He's come to collect."
"I thought so. He's early.
"What can I do?"
"Nothing."
"Must be something. How many days left?"
"Three. You know, you're gonna have to tell her soon."
---
The above occurs at 13:44 into "The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus" by Terry Gilliam.
A very short sequence, but perfect in it's purpose.
I think it's brilliant. This simple bit of dialogue introduces the "person with a problem" aspect with immediacy and nervousness. It then brings a sub-plot into the expectations of the viewer and begins to lead the viewer on into the journey that is storytelling through film. Questions flood the brain; "Who's coming? What does he intend to collect?, What's the deadline about?, Who is this "her" that the character needs to "tell soon"?
Brilliant.
"He's come to collect."
"I thought so. He's early.
"What can I do?"
"Nothing."
"Must be something. How many days left?"
"Three. You know, you're gonna have to tell her soon."
---
The above occurs at 13:44 into "The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus" by Terry Gilliam.
A very short sequence, but perfect in it's purpose.
I think it's brilliant. This simple bit of dialogue introduces the "person with a problem" aspect with immediacy and nervousness. It then brings a sub-plot into the expectations of the viewer and begins to lead the viewer on into the journey that is storytelling through film. Questions flood the brain; "Who's coming? What does he intend to collect?, What's the deadline about?, Who is this "her" that the character needs to "tell soon"?
Brilliant.
Feb 16, 2010
Scan this...
There seems to be quite a bit of press lately about the full-body scanners at airports and the "legality" of such devices. Many people feel that our rights are being taken away from us - our right to privacy, etc., well what would you rather have - your privacy or your safety?
Seriously, if we ever expect to see airline travel that is safe from someone blowing the plane up.. if we ever want to be able to board an airplane without that fear, we will need to allow infringements upon our rights and let the scanners see whatever they need to, to be sure that no one will be exploding anything while the plane is in the air.
Until an entirely different approach to air travel is implemented world-wide (my proposal is outlined below...), we all will need to eagerly comply with whatever "screening methods" the powers that be choose. Just shut the h*ll up and drop your trousers, cough, turn around then pick 'em back up and get on the friggin' plane.
I have a much simpler solution to this problem. Upon check-in for any flight, each passenger will be informed of the fact that "this flight will be a napping flight" and if you do not wish to follow the rules for the flight, you will forfeit your seat on the flight and will need to make other travel arrangements.
Of course this proposed solution will never be possible as it infringes upon your personal rights in almost every way imaginable, but.. it could work.
ALL flights will be "napping" flights in that each passenger will be given a pill prior to boarding that, once the flight is taxiing for take-off, will lull the passenger to sleep for the duration of the flight (different pills for different durations of flights..). Once the aircraft has landed safely at the destination the passengers will start waking up, refreshed and ready for their connecting flights or exiting the airport.
None of the usual annoyances of flying will be felt by any passenger - loud children, crowded aisles/bathrooms. No flight attendant will ever have to worry about handing out drinks or pretzels. Nor will they be required to "deal with" unruly passengers. It's a win-win situation for all parties involved! And, nobody will have an opportunity to detonate anything because everyone will be asleep.
Special situations will require special solutions - at risk travelers with health problems, medication interactions, etc. but I'm sure all potential problem areas can be solved. Or, do away with the pill idea and just gas the lot of the passengers right before take-off. Then pump in fresh oxygen and wake everyone up when the plane has landed.
Of course we'll still need to be scanned and screened and poked and prodded before every flight.. but that's just the way it will have to be.
Seriously, if we ever expect to see airline travel that is safe from someone blowing the plane up.. if we ever want to be able to board an airplane without that fear, we will need to allow infringements upon our rights and let the scanners see whatever they need to, to be sure that no one will be exploding anything while the plane is in the air.
Until an entirely different approach to air travel is implemented world-wide (my proposal is outlined below...), we all will need to eagerly comply with whatever "screening methods" the powers that be choose. Just shut the h*ll up and drop your trousers, cough, turn around then pick 'em back up and get on the friggin' plane.
I have a much simpler solution to this problem. Upon check-in for any flight, each passenger will be informed of the fact that "this flight will be a napping flight" and if you do not wish to follow the rules for the flight, you will forfeit your seat on the flight and will need to make other travel arrangements.
Of course this proposed solution will never be possible as it infringes upon your personal rights in almost every way imaginable, but.. it could work.
ALL flights will be "napping" flights in that each passenger will be given a pill prior to boarding that, once the flight is taxiing for take-off, will lull the passenger to sleep for the duration of the flight (different pills for different durations of flights..). Once the aircraft has landed safely at the destination the passengers will start waking up, refreshed and ready for their connecting flights or exiting the airport.
None of the usual annoyances of flying will be felt by any passenger - loud children, crowded aisles/bathrooms. No flight attendant will ever have to worry about handing out drinks or pretzels. Nor will they be required to "deal with" unruly passengers. It's a win-win situation for all parties involved! And, nobody will have an opportunity to detonate anything because everyone will be asleep.
Special situations will require special solutions - at risk travelers with health problems, medication interactions, etc. but I'm sure all potential problem areas can be solved. Or, do away with the pill idea and just gas the lot of the passengers right before take-off. Then pump in fresh oxygen and wake everyone up when the plane has landed.
Of course we'll still need to be scanned and screened and poked and prodded before every flight.. but that's just the way it will have to be.
Feb 11, 2010
Worse than imagined...
Now for the "Tell me something I DON'T know" department:
From "The Atlantic" magazine web site in an article titled
"How a New Jobless Era Will Transform America" written by Don Peck:
---
Heidi Shierholz, an economist at the Economic Policy Institute, notes that if the recovery follows the same basic path as the last two (in 1991 and 2001), unemployment will stand at roughly 8 percent in 2014.
“We haven’t seen anything like this before: a really deep recession combined with a really extended period, maybe as much as eight years, all told, of highly elevated unemployment,” Shierholz told me.
“We’re about to see a big national experiment on stress.”
(Regarding the college aged youths who will be entering the job markets in the next few years):
"..It is intuitive to think that youth will be spared the worst of the recession’s scars. But in fact a whole generation of young adults is likely to see its life chances permanently diminished by this recession."
People who entered the workforce during a recession “didn’t switch jobs as much, and particularly for young workers, that’s how you increase wages,”
This behavior may have resulted from a lingering risk aversion, born of a tough start. But a lack of opportunities may have played a larger role, she said: when you’re forced to start work in a particularly low-level job or unsexy career, it’s easy for other employers to dismiss you as having low potential. Moving up, or moving on to something different and better, becomes more difficult.
“Graduates’ first jobs have an inordinate impact on their career path and [lifetime earnings],” wrote Austan Goolsbee, now a member of President Obama’s Council of Economic Advisers, in The New York Times in 2006. “People essentially cannot close the wage gap by working their way up the company hierarchy. While they may work their way up, the people who started above them do, too. They don’t catch up.” Recent research suggests that as much as two-thirds of real lifetime wage growth typically occurs in the first 10 years of a career. After that, as people start families and their career paths lengthen and solidify, jumping the tracks becomes harder.
---
OK, my immediate future is fucked. The prospects for my children and their future employment seem equally fucked.
Something's got to give. Where is the WPA for this age? Why can't our government step up and hire all of us out of work people to help fix our aging infrastructures and build new networks for the communications future? It's simple really, and it works.
(The information below is from Wikipedia.. I know, probably the worst place for "facts".. but quick and convenient nonetheless).
---
The Works Progress Administration (renamed during 1939 as the Work Projects Administration; WPA) was the largest New Deal agency, employing millions to carry out public works projects, including the construction of public buildings and roads, and operated large arts, drama, media and literacy projects. It fed children and redistributed food, clothing and housing. Almost every community in the United States had a park, bridge or school constructed by the agency, which especially benefited rural and Western populations. Expenditures from 1936 to 1939 totaled nearly $7 billion.
(Hmm, 7 billion. That's quite a bit LESS than we gave to the banks and financial robber barons recently.. Surely we can benefit more by dedicating funds to something that helps the masses rather than the "banks".)
Created by order of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the WPA was funded by Congress with passage of the Emergency Relief Appropriation Act of 1935 on April 8, 1935. The legislation had passed in the House of Representatives by a margin of 329 to 78, but was delayed by the Senate.
The WPA continued and extended relief programs similar to the Reconstruction Finance Corporation (RFC), which was established by Congress in 1932 during the administration of Roosevelt's predecessor Herbert Hoover. Headed by Harry Hopkins, the WPA provided jobs and income to the unemployed during the Great Depression in the United States. Between 1935 and 1943, the WPA provided almost eight million jobs.
Until ended by Congress and war employment during 1943, the WPA was the largest employer in the country. Most people who needed a job were eligible for at least some of its jobs. Hourly wages were the prevailing wages in each area; the rules said workers could not work more than 30 hours a week, but many projects included months in the field, with workers eating and sleeping on worksites. Before 1940, there was some training involved to teach new skills and the project's original legislation had a strong emphasis on training.
---
It's called a jump start.. and it's along the lines of the "something.. ANYTHING" train of thought.
one word: HELP!
From "The Atlantic" magazine web site in an article titled
"How a New Jobless Era Will Transform America" written by Don Peck:
---
Heidi Shierholz, an economist at the Economic Policy Institute, notes that if the recovery follows the same basic path as the last two (in 1991 and 2001), unemployment will stand at roughly 8 percent in 2014.
“We haven’t seen anything like this before: a really deep recession combined with a really extended period, maybe as much as eight years, all told, of highly elevated unemployment,” Shierholz told me.
“We’re about to see a big national experiment on stress.”
(Regarding the college aged youths who will be entering the job markets in the next few years):
"..It is intuitive to think that youth will be spared the worst of the recession’s scars. But in fact a whole generation of young adults is likely to see its life chances permanently diminished by this recession."
People who entered the workforce during a recession “didn’t switch jobs as much, and particularly for young workers, that’s how you increase wages,”
This behavior may have resulted from a lingering risk aversion, born of a tough start. But a lack of opportunities may have played a larger role, she said: when you’re forced to start work in a particularly low-level job or unsexy career, it’s easy for other employers to dismiss you as having low potential. Moving up, or moving on to something different and better, becomes more difficult.
“Graduates’ first jobs have an inordinate impact on their career path and [lifetime earnings],” wrote Austan Goolsbee, now a member of President Obama’s Council of Economic Advisers, in The New York Times in 2006. “People essentially cannot close the wage gap by working their way up the company hierarchy. While they may work their way up, the people who started above them do, too. They don’t catch up.” Recent research suggests that as much as two-thirds of real lifetime wage growth typically occurs in the first 10 years of a career. After that, as people start families and their career paths lengthen and solidify, jumping the tracks becomes harder.
---
OK, my immediate future is fucked. The prospects for my children and their future employment seem equally fucked.
Something's got to give. Where is the WPA for this age? Why can't our government step up and hire all of us out of work people to help fix our aging infrastructures and build new networks for the communications future? It's simple really, and it works.
(The information below is from Wikipedia.. I know, probably the worst place for "facts".. but quick and convenient nonetheless).
---
The Works Progress Administration (renamed during 1939 as the Work Projects Administration; WPA) was the largest New Deal agency, employing millions to carry out public works projects, including the construction of public buildings and roads, and operated large arts, drama, media and literacy projects. It fed children and redistributed food, clothing and housing. Almost every community in the United States had a park, bridge or school constructed by the agency, which especially benefited rural and Western populations. Expenditures from 1936 to 1939 totaled nearly $7 billion.
(Hmm, 7 billion. That's quite a bit LESS than we gave to the banks and financial robber barons recently.. Surely we can benefit more by dedicating funds to something that helps the masses rather than the "banks".)
Created by order of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the WPA was funded by Congress with passage of the Emergency Relief Appropriation Act of 1935 on April 8, 1935. The legislation had passed in the House of Representatives by a margin of 329 to 78, but was delayed by the Senate.
The WPA continued and extended relief programs similar to the Reconstruction Finance Corporation (RFC), which was established by Congress in 1932 during the administration of Roosevelt's predecessor Herbert Hoover. Headed by Harry Hopkins, the WPA provided jobs and income to the unemployed during the Great Depression in the United States. Between 1935 and 1943, the WPA provided almost eight million jobs.
Until ended by Congress and war employment during 1943, the WPA was the largest employer in the country. Most people who needed a job were eligible for at least some of its jobs. Hourly wages were the prevailing wages in each area; the rules said workers could not work more than 30 hours a week, but many projects included months in the field, with workers eating and sleeping on worksites. Before 1940, there was some training involved to teach new skills and the project's original legislation had a strong emphasis on training.
---
It's called a jump start.. and it's along the lines of the "something.. ANYTHING" train of thought.
one word: HELP!
Feb 8, 2010
False Evidence Appearing Real
.. or FEAR.
I'm so afraid right now.
Afraid about; my health, my future - or lack thereof, my inability to kick myself in the ass and get f*cking moving..., afraid of myself.
I've been here before. I'm not the best at picking myself up, dusting myself off and starting all over again. I am very well practiced at self-pity. Back "in the day" I used to just dissappear when I started feeling this fear. I'd dissappear for several days or a week or more, and think and meditate/contemplate and ultimately come to terms with myself.. on my own terms.
This is the first time I have not been able to just take off into the wild and escape myself and all that surrounds me. I'm on an awfully damned tiny island for f*ck's sake.
Gotta get back to the lower 48. I absolutely L O V E Hawai'i, but I'm done living here. I'm afraid of the unknown. This is not like me. I have always been pretty rock solid and capable of dealing with whatever came my way. But this is, in some ways, exactly like me - just not the public version. As far back as I can remember I've had these "episodes" of self doubt, or fear every so often that I would deal with, overcome and hide from everyone. As I get older I fear that my fear grows stronger in spite of my efforts to reduce it's influence upon my waking life.
I used to be able to recognize the fact that I was entering one of these phases and adjust accordingly (plan my disappearance) for the inevitable "down time", and plan, with complete confidence, on moving through the phase and emerging ready for battle on "the other side"...
Now I'm not so sure. The "complete confidence" aspect is missing.
So much of what I always thought was important changed dramatically when I had the heart thing.. ok, when I died. My only honest answer to the question "What is important?" is: my four children and the quality of their lives. Seriously, I can think of nothing else that matters to my heart, mind and soul.
I am afraid that I will not have the level of positive influence or impact on my kids' quality of life as I had hoped and dreamed. I'm afraid I will end up being just another father who didn't make enough money to help his kids have comfortable lives, who never became famous enough to have any notoriety shadow or color their time, who didn't leave an undeniable legacy of joy and happiness for them to be proud of.
Yes, I am afraid right now.
.. but it will probably pass sometime soon.. I hope. :)
I'm so afraid right now.
Afraid about; my health, my future - or lack thereof, my inability to kick myself in the ass and get f*cking moving..., afraid of myself.
I've been here before. I'm not the best at picking myself up, dusting myself off and starting all over again. I am very well practiced at self-pity. Back "in the day" I used to just dissappear when I started feeling this fear. I'd dissappear for several days or a week or more, and think and meditate/contemplate and ultimately come to terms with myself.. on my own terms.
This is the first time I have not been able to just take off into the wild and escape myself and all that surrounds me. I'm on an awfully damned tiny island for f*ck's sake.
Gotta get back to the lower 48. I absolutely L O V E Hawai'i, but I'm done living here. I'm afraid of the unknown. This is not like me. I have always been pretty rock solid and capable of dealing with whatever came my way. But this is, in some ways, exactly like me - just not the public version. As far back as I can remember I've had these "episodes" of self doubt, or fear every so often that I would deal with, overcome and hide from everyone. As I get older I fear that my fear grows stronger in spite of my efforts to reduce it's influence upon my waking life.
I used to be able to recognize the fact that I was entering one of these phases and adjust accordingly (plan my disappearance) for the inevitable "down time", and plan, with complete confidence, on moving through the phase and emerging ready for battle on "the other side"...
Now I'm not so sure. The "complete confidence" aspect is missing.
So much of what I always thought was important changed dramatically when I had the heart thing.. ok, when I died. My only honest answer to the question "What is important?" is: my four children and the quality of their lives. Seriously, I can think of nothing else that matters to my heart, mind and soul.
I am afraid that I will not have the level of positive influence or impact on my kids' quality of life as I had hoped and dreamed. I'm afraid I will end up being just another father who didn't make enough money to help his kids have comfortable lives, who never became famous enough to have any notoriety shadow or color their time, who didn't leave an undeniable legacy of joy and happiness for them to be proud of.
Yes, I am afraid right now.
.. but it will probably pass sometime soon.. I hope. :)
Jan 30, 2010
copycat films... why?
I do not pretend to be a good film critic. I have very vague criteria for what constitutes a "good" film in my mind. Something I like about one film may be what I hate about another. Consistency does not have a ticket on this train. That being said,
"Crazy Heart"... I really like Jeff Bridges as an actor. I think he's one of the best there is. I can think of many films he's been in that rank near the top of my favorites. However, "Crazy Heart" - with an excellent portrayal by Jeff of a country musician on the downhill side of his career - is a poor attempt at copying the successful story format of Darren Aronofsky's "The Wrestler" starring (another favorite actor of mine) Mickey Rourke. The storyline similarities are numerous and transparent... the personal struggle with substance abuse, the "long lost" kid from a failed relationship back in the heyday, the frail relationship with a woman with a kid... etc., etc., etc.
Hmm, down on his luck former "star" has trouble with fading fame and substance abuse, finds possible redemption and opportunity for another chance at love, lets self-destructive habits ruin any progress, hits bottom or something like it, starts the long road to sobriety (conveniently depicted via short montage or slow fade with "blank months/years later" graphic), realizes that happiness and success come in very small doses, learns to accept mediocrity, lights another smoke and heads toward the sun - with or without the girl - usually without. Audience leaves feeling good about themselves and their lives because at least they are not "him"...
While the Aronofsky film used silence, nuance and atmosphere to great effect, the Scott Cooper rip off - "Crazy Heart" just tossed in some bland stereotypical ingredients and stirred until a froth appeared. Then promptly sprinkled some bankable names on top. Adding the great actor Robert Duvall to a film does not guarantee quality (think "Gone in 60 Seconds"...). Maggie Gyllenhaal as the Marisa Tomei character helps a little (who doesn't like Maggie when she's cast right? - Secretary, SherryBaby, and many more), but not enough. And briefly tipping the hat to some great songwriters like Townes Van Zandt doesn't make it all better either.
(Don't get me started about the use of music in film and how that has become superficial and meaningless...) I suppose I could have made the same point about this film by just saying "I liked it better when it was called "The Wrestler", but that wouldn't be as much fun now would it?
Maybe I'll soon share my lists... my lists of films - good and bad - and why I feel one way or another about certain films.
I will leave with this: My top three, no, five films:
Quest for Fire, Citizen Kane, Cinema Paradiso, She's Gotta Have It, Wizards.
Reasons? Coming soon.
---
April addition:
OK, it pains me to omit "My Mother's Castle" and "My Father's Glory" from my little "top films" list. These two fantastic French cinematic masterpieces belong in anyone's list .. near the top. OK so call it "top seven films"...
"Crazy Heart"... I really like Jeff Bridges as an actor. I think he's one of the best there is. I can think of many films he's been in that rank near the top of my favorites. However, "Crazy Heart" - with an excellent portrayal by Jeff of a country musician on the downhill side of his career - is a poor attempt at copying the successful story format of Darren Aronofsky's "The Wrestler" starring (another favorite actor of mine) Mickey Rourke. The storyline similarities are numerous and transparent... the personal struggle with substance abuse, the "long lost" kid from a failed relationship back in the heyday, the frail relationship with a woman with a kid... etc., etc., etc.
Hmm, down on his luck former "star" has trouble with fading fame and substance abuse, finds possible redemption and opportunity for another chance at love, lets self-destructive habits ruin any progress, hits bottom or something like it, starts the long road to sobriety (conveniently depicted via short montage or slow fade with "blank months/years later" graphic), realizes that happiness and success come in very small doses, learns to accept mediocrity, lights another smoke and heads toward the sun - with or without the girl - usually without. Audience leaves feeling good about themselves and their lives because at least they are not "him"...
While the Aronofsky film used silence, nuance and atmosphere to great effect, the Scott Cooper rip off - "Crazy Heart" just tossed in some bland stereotypical ingredients and stirred until a froth appeared. Then promptly sprinkled some bankable names on top. Adding the great actor Robert Duvall to a film does not guarantee quality (think "Gone in 60 Seconds"...). Maggie Gyllenhaal as the Marisa Tomei character helps a little (who doesn't like Maggie when she's cast right? - Secretary, SherryBaby, and many more), but not enough. And briefly tipping the hat to some great songwriters like Townes Van Zandt doesn't make it all better either.
(Don't get me started about the use of music in film and how that has become superficial and meaningless...) I suppose I could have made the same point about this film by just saying "I liked it better when it was called "The Wrestler", but that wouldn't be as much fun now would it?
Maybe I'll soon share my lists... my lists of films - good and bad - and why I feel one way or another about certain films.
I will leave with this: My top three, no, five films:
Quest for Fire, Citizen Kane, Cinema Paradiso, She's Gotta Have It, Wizards.
Reasons? Coming soon.
---
April addition:
OK, it pains me to omit "My Mother's Castle" and "My Father's Glory" from my little "top films" list. These two fantastic French cinematic masterpieces belong in anyone's list .. near the top. OK so call it "top seven films"...
Jan 27, 2010
Gone and back again
October 20th, 2003. (26 years to the day from the Lynyrd Skynyrd plan crash..)
I died.
I came back a little less then three minutes later - with the aide of several electric shocks to my chest.
My discovery? - Vast, infinite emptiness.. We are all simply energy. But we are ALL the same. We are not human. An absolute sense of being a part of something.. the ultimate sense of "belonging" - yet belonging as a connected mass.. not as a human.
Ours is an existence of happenstance.. chaotic culture.. existing not as individuals, but as elements - a part of something as large as any definition of the human concept of size...
Yin and Yang.
Orgasmic despair.
Pure bliss via the absence of any human connotations.. of ANYTHING.
This experience allows me - in life - to be fearless of "death".. to be at ease with my thoughts about the experiences of all my loved ones who have passed. There is no "suffer". There is no "heaven" save for the revelation of our true nature and the "comfort" of knowing that we are not "people" and cannot "know" anything.
I am not afraid of death. I do NOT want to feel ANYTHING close to the pain I felt with my heart attack.. but my apprehension is about the pain.. not the inevitable "destination".
---
Others who have had similar experiences:
"Bob Schriever, co-founder of the Sudden Cardiac Arrest Association, was refereeing a high school football game seven years ago when he went into cardiac arrest, died and was revived.
He, too, questions the dream explanation. "Why are so many people dreaming the same thing? How can so many people, and there's hundreds of thousands of people who have experienced this, how can we all be dreaming the same thing and describe the exact same thing?"
Schriever says these experiences are so profound that only someone who has gone through them can truly understand.
Seven years later, he is still consumed with his own near-death experience.
"I think about that every morning when I wake up, first thing, during the day, I don't know how many times and every night before I fall asleep. I think about that. People do not understand or appreciate what we go through."
For Mrs. Geraghty, it's a daily struggle to put the pieces back together again.
"I've been someplace that not everybody can go, and there's not a lot of people you can sit down and have that conversation with," Geraghty said. "My own daughter tells me, 'It's freaky, Mom.' I've literally lost friends over this the minute they hear it."
Geraghty says she became depressed once she left the hospital because her perspective on her entire life changed. She still gets depressed, she says, and is on medication.
"I actually went to my doctor and said to her, 'I think I'm losing my mind. This can't be really happening,' you know, and she said it's OK, it's very hard to understand when you've been through an experience like that."
---
Depression? OK, I'll bite. But depression because of being privy to the fact that we are not what we seem to think. Possessing knowledge of the futility of it all.. how can I NOT be a little depressed?
What purpose life then?
I think, to release the energy within as love and compassion for the collective whole. Energy never stops.. it just changes.
I died.
I came back a little less then three minutes later - with the aide of several electric shocks to my chest.
My discovery? - Vast, infinite emptiness.. We are all simply energy. But we are ALL the same. We are not human. An absolute sense of being a part of something.. the ultimate sense of "belonging" - yet belonging as a connected mass.. not as a human.
Ours is an existence of happenstance.. chaotic culture.. existing not as individuals, but as elements - a part of something as large as any definition of the human concept of size...
Yin and Yang.
Orgasmic despair.
Pure bliss via the absence of any human connotations.. of ANYTHING.
This experience allows me - in life - to be fearless of "death".. to be at ease with my thoughts about the experiences of all my loved ones who have passed. There is no "suffer". There is no "heaven" save for the revelation of our true nature and the "comfort" of knowing that we are not "people" and cannot "know" anything.
I am not afraid of death. I do NOT want to feel ANYTHING close to the pain I felt with my heart attack.. but my apprehension is about the pain.. not the inevitable "destination".
---
Others who have had similar experiences:
"Bob Schriever, co-founder of the Sudden Cardiac Arrest Association, was refereeing a high school football game seven years ago when he went into cardiac arrest, died and was revived.
He, too, questions the dream explanation. "Why are so many people dreaming the same thing? How can so many people, and there's hundreds of thousands of people who have experienced this, how can we all be dreaming the same thing and describe the exact same thing?"
Schriever says these experiences are so profound that only someone who has gone through them can truly understand.
Seven years later, he is still consumed with his own near-death experience.
"I think about that every morning when I wake up, first thing, during the day, I don't know how many times and every night before I fall asleep. I think about that. People do not understand or appreciate what we go through."
For Mrs. Geraghty, it's a daily struggle to put the pieces back together again.
"I've been someplace that not everybody can go, and there's not a lot of people you can sit down and have that conversation with," Geraghty said. "My own daughter tells me, 'It's freaky, Mom.' I've literally lost friends over this the minute they hear it."
Geraghty says she became depressed once she left the hospital because her perspective on her entire life changed. She still gets depressed, she says, and is on medication.
"I actually went to my doctor and said to her, 'I think I'm losing my mind. This can't be really happening,' you know, and she said it's OK, it's very hard to understand when you've been through an experience like that."
---
Depression? OK, I'll bite. But depression because of being privy to the fact that we are not what we seem to think. Possessing knowledge of the futility of it all.. how can I NOT be a little depressed?
What purpose life then?
I think, to release the energy within as love and compassion for the collective whole. Energy never stops.. it just changes.
Time to bounce...
Life is not about how fast you run or how high you climb, but how well you bounce.
The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
"Either that wallpaper goes or I do." - Oscar Wilde's final words.
The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
"Either that wallpaper goes or I do." - Oscar Wilde's final words.
where to begin?
Hmm.. only eight years ago...
(ok.. seven and a half...)
- written during one of my "What the hell am I going to do?" times...
--------
Sat, 24 Aug 2002 - 6:26 pm
Here it is.
I feel like I've fallen into a classic existential crisis. Life seems to have no point or higher purpose. After years of working, I have exhausted my enthusiasm. I'm like an actor who's lost the motivation for his part, a ghost among many.
I feel no passion for anything or anyplace on earth.
Inspiration, I fear, is a thing of the past.
I struggle daily to hold tight my slight grasp on a thin line of hope.
A trait bred into me from my inception I'm sure.
I have no idea whatsoever of how I'll survive this, I can only convey my heart's absolute trust that, somehow, I will.
"Help", from anyone, is irrelevant and impossible, for this is as much an individual conflict as there possibly can be.
There are many people whom I love completely and wish great things for. But right now, I feel powerless to advance "the cause".
Self-medication isn't working as well as it has in the past. Hell, I can't even get motivated by sedation.
Just now, as I was writing this, a lightning storm knocked out power to the entire neighborhood. I sat on my symbolic throne of a porch and watched out over my concrete kingdom as elegant streaks of the purest light I've ever seen blaze across the sky, hundreds of miles in fractions of a second. Arcs, bolts, circles and shapes of white fire followed shortly by the most resonant rumblings of thunder, deep and soul shaking to the core. My neighbor notices me and calls me a "brave soul". Could that be true? Is bravery inherent within me?
It's been said that you cannot possess courage unless you are frightened. I feel no fear save for that of a listless complacent existence devoid of wonder, holding no inspiration, emptiness that spills over and floods my mind. Life, at this point, has soured my alternate plan of living a vicarious life through my children.
I'm a few weeks away from thrusting one of my silly childhood dreams upon my eldest son. Assigning him responsibility which he did not ask for. Foregoing the usual training involved with mastering a motorcycle and asking him to care for this one object I've held onto for the past 25 years. In essence, asking him to carry that weight.
Options for overcoming obstacles in my immediate path are hidden to me. I think they exist, but if so, they seem as far away as outer space.
What miracle comes now? Which "thing" is the "right" thing?
How do I explain "me" to my family?
--------
Then.. in 2004, I wrote this...
Don't know why, ain't no sun up in the sky...
I'm hypnotized by this sky tonight. No other sky like it anywhere, none. Cancun was close. Hawai'i's skies were broken into small pieces and reassembled ever so gracfully over the ocean. An Arkansas night is almost too bright with stars. Downward glances fill the skies in New York and Philadelphia, down past Delaware, Jersey, Baltimore and D.C.. This ain't Hawai'i. This is Kansas.
This sky growls. It screams and cries and says goodbye.
"Why am I here, again?" Because I'm drawn here as surely as a magnet to the north right now. Maybe a last fling with home and all it holds captive in what's left of my heart. Don't know why. Stormy weather. Storms build inside then explode, ever so gracefully, into the sky tonight.
Destiny awaits. Molded by my desires, just the way I like it.
Too bad I kill it so easily...
Rushing in and swimming against the tide of time, I rummage through my little treasures and am reminded of the beautiful ugliness of it all - the past, the future, the transfer of one to the other and the speed at which it crawls by.
Searching for gasps of air over shudders of emotion ringing in my heart, I long to understand things which can never be explained. My mind accelerates once more. I can't stop the years. I can't stand my fears. I'm overwhelmed by the mundane and bored with the chaos.
Have you been there? It ain't no picnic sparky, let me tell 'ya.
----
(.. just found this that I wrote in 2006)
10/13/2006 (these digits add up to 13.. go figure)
Waialua wandering, wake to surf sounds, break these walls down.
My nemesis is staring at me in the bathroom mirror.. he laughs at my tears, then tosses in a few more years. What are the odds that I would land here in such a perfect place, only to be longing for a far away face. Pretty good odds I would guess. That's how I "roll".. never content, hell bent for something else.
Should I swim? Should I float? Should I try to find a boat?
Decisions are best left to others as I would rather watch my fate from a distance.
I miss my father.
Three in college now, my youngest at "that age".
Where is the passion? Where is the rage?
This world is not the one I wished for. I wanted my offspring to be free to explore. The rest of the world cares not for us 'mericanos, on the contrary, they want us gone.. thanks to the fumblings of just one man. That beast. He stole my children's future away from them.
Hope is such a cruel idea. Dreams are just a fleeting image on a screen. Sometimes I just want to scream. "Give it all back!"
Truth will always win this game of hide and seek. Hidden for as long as they want it to be. For as long as we let it, which is usually forever.
To my kids: Please prove me wrong. Please show me that it will all be ok, in the end. For my end is near. To the women I love: Love me or hate me, but please learn from me. My heart is not like any other.
I can't remember where it was that I wanted to go so long ago.
Is this it?
I've got a gut feeling that I belong in other lands, in other hands, listening to other bands. Jazz for a brain, I'm cursed with free-form, improvisational, frenetic thought processes. Focus is something you do with a lens. My lens is too big.., or not big enough. Sleep with stars above, wish happiness for the ones I love.
I miss my father.
---
(Back to 2010)) - I made it through all of that, and so many other times of doubt and struggle.. I suppose things will be alright.
(ok.. seven and a half...)
- written during one of my "What the hell am I going to do?" times...
--------
Sat, 24 Aug 2002 - 6:26 pm
Here it is.
I feel like I've fallen into a classic existential crisis. Life seems to have no point or higher purpose. After years of working, I have exhausted my enthusiasm. I'm like an actor who's lost the motivation for his part, a ghost among many.
I feel no passion for anything or anyplace on earth.
Inspiration, I fear, is a thing of the past.
I struggle daily to hold tight my slight grasp on a thin line of hope.
A trait bred into me from my inception I'm sure.
I have no idea whatsoever of how I'll survive this, I can only convey my heart's absolute trust that, somehow, I will.
"Help", from anyone, is irrelevant and impossible, for this is as much an individual conflict as there possibly can be.
There are many people whom I love completely and wish great things for. But right now, I feel powerless to advance "the cause".
Self-medication isn't working as well as it has in the past. Hell, I can't even get motivated by sedation.
Just now, as I was writing this, a lightning storm knocked out power to the entire neighborhood. I sat on my symbolic throne of a porch and watched out over my concrete kingdom as elegant streaks of the purest light I've ever seen blaze across the sky, hundreds of miles in fractions of a second. Arcs, bolts, circles and shapes of white fire followed shortly by the most resonant rumblings of thunder, deep and soul shaking to the core. My neighbor notices me and calls me a "brave soul". Could that be true? Is bravery inherent within me?
It's been said that you cannot possess courage unless you are frightened. I feel no fear save for that of a listless complacent existence devoid of wonder, holding no inspiration, emptiness that spills over and floods my mind. Life, at this point, has soured my alternate plan of living a vicarious life through my children.
I'm a few weeks away from thrusting one of my silly childhood dreams upon my eldest son. Assigning him responsibility which he did not ask for. Foregoing the usual training involved with mastering a motorcycle and asking him to care for this one object I've held onto for the past 25 years. In essence, asking him to carry that weight.
Options for overcoming obstacles in my immediate path are hidden to me. I think they exist, but if so, they seem as far away as outer space.
What miracle comes now? Which "thing" is the "right" thing?
How do I explain "me" to my family?
--------
Then.. in 2004, I wrote this...
Don't know why, ain't no sun up in the sky...
I'm hypnotized by this sky tonight. No other sky like it anywhere, none. Cancun was close. Hawai'i's skies were broken into small pieces and reassembled ever so gracfully over the ocean. An Arkansas night is almost too bright with stars. Downward glances fill the skies in New York and Philadelphia, down past Delaware, Jersey, Baltimore and D.C.. This ain't Hawai'i. This is Kansas.
This sky growls. It screams and cries and says goodbye.
"Why am I here, again?" Because I'm drawn here as surely as a magnet to the north right now. Maybe a last fling with home and all it holds captive in what's left of my heart. Don't know why. Stormy weather. Storms build inside then explode, ever so gracefully, into the sky tonight.
Destiny awaits. Molded by my desires, just the way I like it.
Too bad I kill it so easily...
Rushing in and swimming against the tide of time, I rummage through my little treasures and am reminded of the beautiful ugliness of it all - the past, the future, the transfer of one to the other and the speed at which it crawls by.
Searching for gasps of air over shudders of emotion ringing in my heart, I long to understand things which can never be explained. My mind accelerates once more. I can't stop the years. I can't stand my fears. I'm overwhelmed by the mundane and bored with the chaos.
Have you been there? It ain't no picnic sparky, let me tell 'ya.
----
(.. just found this that I wrote in 2006)
10/13/2006 (these digits add up to 13.. go figure)
Waialua wandering, wake to surf sounds, break these walls down.
My nemesis is staring at me in the bathroom mirror.. he laughs at my tears, then tosses in a few more years. What are the odds that I would land here in such a perfect place, only to be longing for a far away face. Pretty good odds I would guess. That's how I "roll".. never content, hell bent for something else.
Should I swim? Should I float? Should I try to find a boat?
Decisions are best left to others as I would rather watch my fate from a distance.
I miss my father.
Three in college now, my youngest at "that age".
Where is the passion? Where is the rage?
This world is not the one I wished for. I wanted my offspring to be free to explore. The rest of the world cares not for us 'mericanos, on the contrary, they want us gone.. thanks to the fumblings of just one man. That beast. He stole my children's future away from them.
Hope is such a cruel idea. Dreams are just a fleeting image on a screen. Sometimes I just want to scream. "Give it all back!"
Truth will always win this game of hide and seek. Hidden for as long as they want it to be. For as long as we let it, which is usually forever.
To my kids: Please prove me wrong. Please show me that it will all be ok, in the end. For my end is near. To the women I love: Love me or hate me, but please learn from me. My heart is not like any other.
I can't remember where it was that I wanted to go so long ago.
Is this it?
I've got a gut feeling that I belong in other lands, in other hands, listening to other bands. Jazz for a brain, I'm cursed with free-form, improvisational, frenetic thought processes. Focus is something you do with a lens. My lens is too big.., or not big enough. Sleep with stars above, wish happiness for the ones I love.
I miss my father.
---
(Back to 2010)) - I made it through all of that, and so many other times of doubt and struggle.. I suppose things will be alright.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
