2.XX.09

Busdriver like the
Boatman
ferrys souls across the Styx
Seats meant for two
hold only one
--everyone alone.

Winter garb
hoods and scarves
and fingerless mittens
hide
all but a few patches of cold pale skin.
Greys and blacks and
dark navy blues
Walking funeral shrouds.

The only color of the day: a thick-skinned
blood orange
bright rind peeled back to reveal
deep purple bruised flesh
savors sweet fresh red wound:

Things that remind us we're alive.

On Pondering My Open Notebook:

Blank page:
a wall standing firm resolute unyielding
unwilling to be scaled, toppled, tunneled under,
or made to disappear.
Only can we try in vain to cover it's expansive surface with thin scratches and fading scribbles
--like pencil marks on the pyramids.

Upon this towering mountainous frighteningly white and pristine
unadorned imposing monolith
must we pin our pithy tacks.
(which sometimes defile or desecrate that beautifully clean untouched, unspoiled space)

Sometimes our best attempts fade and peel with the paint
sometimes fail to stick
but every now and again our scrawling black lines give the illusion of spreading cracks,
the impression that we have somehow found a chink in that white perfect solid surface.
(But the wall spreads out as far as the eye can see in any direction and is far taller than the sky)
There is no filling it, seeing over it's highest towering top, or any amount of cracking to ever make it weak.

there is no other side.

It is tomorrow
and the ocean
the canvas and the stage
it is a handshake or a whisper
(the space between your lips before you breathe)
: It is the everstretching edge of the horizon on a globe.

(Let it never be our past)

Consumption: Most Recently

Punch Drunk Love
After seeing so many movies over the last few years with twist endings, I kept waiting for the turn while watching this one. It never came.
Turns out it's just an ultra-surreal romantic comedy that in the end isn't all that romantic or comedic. But it was a real piece of eye candy at times. I loved the oversaturated colors and quirky art direction. And the only element that rivaled the visual quality of the piece was the sound. I watched it wearing some pretty great headphones and I don't think I've ever really experienced a movie with that caliber of aural finesse. The whole movie was finely tuned to take full advantage of the stereo effect (I can only imagine what if would have been like in Dolby surround) which created so many subtle textures and spaces. And the accompanying score from composer Jon Brion was phenomenal.


W.
I was really looking forward to seeing this one. I had heard that it received mixed reviews for a couple of reasons--conservatives didn't like it because it doesn't shy away from exposing Bush's Bushisms, and liberals didn't like it because it didn't give Bush the roasting he deserved.
While you might hope that this sort of a balance to reveal a subtle and nuanced portrayl of a complex character, you'd be sorely disappointed.
Josh Brolin gives a great performance as Bush, but the writing he was given doesn't really delve any deeper than the cartoonish phrases and cowboy exploits that we've already seen from the real Bush after enduring eight years of his misunderestimations on the news.


Sicko
Of all the movies I've seen recently, this one hit me the hardest. After breaking my leg last November and undergoing major surgery, my medical bills topped out at over $15,000. Luckily I've got great insurance and so I won't have to shell out hardly anything out of pocket--BUT, unluckily, my insurance coverage runs out at the beginning of next month, leaving me to wonder, how in the world would I have ever been able to pay for my desperately needed care if I had not been covered?
Costs associated with healthcare are now the number one cause of bankruptcy in the United States and this film takes a good long look at why that is. Michael Moore is an incisive and witty commentator on the state of things as he travels the globe comparing different systems of healthcare. I was both entertained and deeply moved as I watched the stories of so many americans struggling to make ends meet in the face of tragic circumstances. If you take the time to see one movie from this list, make it this one.


Coraline
The amount of artistry and attention to detail that went into making this film is just staggering. Even before the movie actually starts, I'm blown away by the credits and titles.
I was really impressed too by the way the director chose to use the 3D effect as more than just a gimmick--but a way to further the story and add to it's depth. (No pun intended...ok, maybe it was) Everything in the real world for Coraline is washed out, dull, and compressed. This makes her journey into the alternate world behind the door all the more vivid and rich. The sets become deep and expansive--full of wonder and in Coraline's case, danger too. If you haven't seen this one yet, make a point to go--it just won't be the same outside the theatre.


Buffalo '66
This movie took awhile to grow on me but I can't stop thinking about it. The characters were so honest and believable--several times I felt like I was intruding on a really private moment. Sort of uncomfortable and hypnotic all at the same time. The cinematography was really beautiful--full, rich, grainy unabashed pre-digital film stock, shot mostly with natural and existing lighting.
Vincent Gallo was electrifying on screen and it is evident that he was just as powerful off as he wrote and directed the piece.
The comedy was painful--uncomfortably funny. I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh, or cry, or cower in fear with the characters. I don't know if I've ever seen anything so emotionally complex.


Paper Moon
I can't believe I've never seen this one before! Instant favorite. Ryan O'Neal is fantastic, as was Madeleine Kahn--but neither was as pitch perfect as Tatum O'Neal who delivered hands down the best performance I've ever seen from a child actor. The story was clever and the dialogue witty and original without ever becoming trite or corny. Director Peter Bogdanovich paints a charming and naturalistic portrait of the Depression-era Midwest without being overly-sentimental or sugary. The film style is raw and fits the period beautifully with richly contrasting black and white tones and long depth of field focus. I really don't know if there's anything I could fault about this movie.

Your thoughts? Have you seen any of these? Any others you might like to reccomend?

Review: Barton Fink

More than anything I loved the look and feel of this movie. The staggering attention to detail was evident in every frame.
Even though the movie is set in 1940's Hollywood, most of the action takes place in Barton's dilapidated art deco hotel from a previous era. The deco greens and oranges created an atmosphere that was both hot and humid and oppresive, but also moldy and decaying.
John Turturro's performance was subtle and nuanced. He was nervous and neurotic but always realistically so. On top of his superb general characterization, the emotional weight demanded of him was immense and he was pitch perfect in delivering.
John Goodman was terrific and terrifying as Barton's neighbor turned psychopath. He's the kind of actor that can really draw an audience in and earn their trust--which makes it all the more impressive and conflicting in the mind of the viewer when we realize that he was never who we thought he was.
I always love seeing Steve Buscemi even in smaller roles. He just seems to pop up everywhere--and in this movie he literally did just that. In his first entrance in the film he pops up out of a trapdoor behind the hotel counter to check Barton into his room. He was the hotel's only visible employee and a perfect reflection of it's pale and sickly condition.
I'm still trying to wrap my head around the concept of the film. As far as I can tell, it's both a post-modern noir buddy-film period piece and a tragi-comic metaphor about the creative process and our relationship to creative works as viewers.
In any case, Barton Fink won the Palm D'or prize, Best Director, and Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival in 1991--but grossed only $6 million at the box office. So if you're a film critic, you'll probably love this movie. And if you're someone who loves blockbusters, you probably won't.

2.02.09

Surface:
stretched out like the taut liquid skin
on a rippling body of water.
We float
just above
hovering over the depths
watching people, times of day, lights streaming through leaves
splash.
surface and submerge.
Sometimes wishing we could drown in the depths of memory
or bathe in the quiet of a moment.
We pass--
like leaky lifeboats with our hands stretched out almost falling in
fingers barely brushing.
There is no tide.
No waves.

This morning I woke up
hungry
the kitchen was cold.
I looked down and found my feet warm
standing in a puddle of sunlight.

I can't believe January is almost over.

Life is good. I'm back on my feet and can do almost everything I could before.
It's funny, I've never been much of a runner, but ever since the accident I have this incredible urge all the time to run.
But I can bicycle again and I'm loving that. I took a ride in the rain earlier today and it was so clean and cold and refreshing.
This week has been great--Have been looking forward to the inauguration for months and it didn't disappoint. Loved the music, the poem, the new president--so fitting.
Back in rehearsal for Twelfth Night--hadn't realized how much I had missed that cast.
Spent most of the afternoon on Thursday with a good book in the library.
Saw 'Defiance'--and really liked it.
Posted the parts for our Shakespeare play in my Youth Theatre Class on Friday--the kids were jazzed.
Ate at Cucina in Salt Lake earlier today--had the chicken curry salad. Perfect.
Stopped by a birthday party tonight.
Went grocery shopping with my brother.
Church, and home for dinner with the family tomorrow. Should be relaxing.
I hope it keeps raining. Such a nice change from the snow.

I see right through you Mona

I think I'm done with romanticizing my life. Not because anything traumatic or difficult has happened to me--but because it feels more honest to. At least for now. Things can still be beautiful and exciting without being spun, composed, or put on a pedestal. I'm ok with that.
Today I went in for production photos for Twelfth Night. I realized that I'm really bad at posing. It's one thing to suspend disbelief and live in an alternate reality while acting on stage, and another thing entirely to try and project a contrived appearance in front of a camera.
"I'm sorry, I'm not so good at posing" I said right before we began the shoot.
"Oh that's fine, everyone has been making silly poses so you'll fit right in" replied the photographer.
I don't think she understood what I was saying.
"You're a little stiff" she said after awhile.
Part of the problem is these nervous tendencies I have. Some people bite their lips, or get sweaty palms, but my reaction to stress or nerves is a little different. I smile. I get this big, goofy grin on my face that won't go away. And if I try to make it go away, it just ends up looking ridiculous like I'm trying not to laugh. I have blown many an audition because I was so nervous that I couldn't quit smiling. I'll be attempting a somber or angry piece and the director just thinks I can't take anything seriously because I can't wipe that smirk off my face.
But it did serve me well as a missionary--everyone thought I was the most cheerful person they'd ever met, when in reality, talking to total strangers just made me really nervous. And so I smiled. And to be fair it did become true in the end--it's difficult to wear any sort of facial expression for any amount of time without it rubbing off on your psyche. I suppose if there's any nervous habit to have, this one is as good as any.
I had a girlfriend once who could see right through it. Whenever I'd get upset with her, I'd start smiling--because confrontation makes me nervous--and she'd know what I was really feeling.
In any case, my nervous smile did not serve me well during the photo shoot. I think in the end I got two expressions on film: the smile, and this sort of blank look that I can achieve if I clear my mind and steady my nerves. But I'm ok with that--I think that was honest.

Soup Kitchen

So I have this bad habit of not going to sleep until I'm good and tired--which rarely happens when I'd most like it to.
Earlier today I had a migraine. I can always tell when they are coming--I start to get this weird pressure behind my eyes accompanied by this sinking feeling. Then it becomes a race--if I can get to a couple of Excedrin within about twenty minutes, I'm usually in good shape. If not, then it's a good dose of full blown nausea and hypersensitivty to light, sounds, and smells. I have no idea what causes them. Thankfully, I don't get them frequently at all--in fact I can't remember when the last time I had one was. And luckily, if I can choke down a couple tylenol and lie down in the dark for awhile I usually have it beat in about an hour. My heart really goes out to those people who get migraines for twelve hours. Misery.
That was all a roundabout way of saying that I had a nap and so I am not yet tired.
A few thoughts:
I hate spiders. BUT, I am perfectly willing to coexist with them provided that they are not over a certain size or speed. (ie I will let the little green house spider do his job in peace, but the large swiftly darting hairy monstrosity had better hope he's faster than I am) Also, there is a zero tolerance policy in terms of arachnid invasion of personal spaces. Spiders of any size or type will by squished on site if found in my bed, shoes, or dishes.
Secondly, Did you know that Avocadoes are sometimes called Alligator Pears? I love that. So fitting. But also, the name 'Avocado' comes from the aztec word 'Ahuacatl'--which means Testicle. I don't love that. I think I'll stick to calling them Alligator Pears.
Lastly, I got a new crockpot for christmas. All last semester I saved money by buying cheap and delicious soup ingredients in bulk and making giant batches of stew. (That's kind of a sick phrase though 'giant batches of stew'? Sick. Who would want to eat a batch? Or stew? Gross.) But it actually is really great. Most of the time. And I love cooking so, two birds with one stone, right? (That's not a soup. At least not one I've made)
In any case, I am shamelessly soliciting your help blogworld. Do you have any great soup recipes that you would be willing to send me? If your soup is selected as one of the lucky winners to be made in my crockpot, I may even invite you over for a bowl. Fair?