Is the truth the most valuable thing in a story, or is it what happens after it is told more important? Bloom played by Adrien Brody says, “The greatest con is the one where everyone gets what they want.” But isn’t a con merely a story that is used to manipulate people out of their money (or some other prized possession)? A story that webbed with lies that usually all the parties don’t get what they want, not really.
The Brothers Bloom tells the story of Bloom (Adrien Brody) and Stephen (Mark Ruffalo), two con men who want two totally different things. Bloom, who early in life found that being a con man is a pretty lonely life –despite gaining a rock star status in the underworld- wants nothing more than a girl whom he can love. All Stephen wants is to protect his brother, but when Bloom decides to shut his brother away because the life that they live is actually quite lonely.
So, our story begins with our two morally dubious protagonists and their silent Asian sidekick Bang Bang (Rinko Kikuchi), tracking their mark, Penelope (played by Rachel Weisz). Penelope, had a fairly lonely childhood, and has many skills, such as being able to play the accordion, the harp, and the guitar. She is able to juggle chainsaws and is a creative photographer, but she is still very rich and lonely. The Brothers are able to give her adventure and meaning.
All the characters are played quite well, none of them to unbelievable, or too stylistic. They all have flaws, wants, needs that money can’t buy- companionships mostly- but all in different levels and for different reaons. While there were no sub-par performances, Rachael Weisz does a great job playing the lonely, but optimist Penelope.
Near the end we see what each person really wants, and the price that they must pay to get it, is it worth it? It depends on what matters more to each character, living in a particularly elaborate fantasy land, or living in a world where they have what they want, but are vulnerable.
While there is nothing really wrong with the story, or the acting, or the directing, I felt like I have seen this movie before and unfortunately couldn’t share the same level of enthusiasm as the rest of the group that I went with to see it, but despite my own personal taste, I would say this is a movie worth watching.
Two and ¾ stars.
Pros. Everything.
Cons. Perhaps a bit to redundant of a story.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
Thoughts On the Good Enough Revolution
The good enough revolution as written in the latest Wired magazine by Robert Capps is an interesting concept. The idea is that companies only need to make products good enough for a mass market user group to be successful. But what the masses want has shifted from the highest quality they can afford to getting what is good enough. Products need to be accessible, easy to use and shareable. For instance, the article talk about MP3’s as the perfect example of good enough tech. The sound quality isn’t nearly as good as CD’s or their earlier incarnation Vinyl, but the MP3 format has become the choice of most users to buy (or pirate) music. It doesn’t sound as good, but people can store hundreds of MP3’s on an I-pod Nano, and upload their own MP3 files onto the net easier.
The article made some interesting observations, the health and military industries are currently going through their own good enough revolutions. MQ-1 Predator Drones are being used by the military in many combat zones. They don’t go very high, or fast, and only hold 2 rockets. Not nearly as fast high as many of their fighter jets or bombers, but what he Predator can do is scan an area for almost 20 hours without a recharge, much longer than a pilot can fly without needing a break. Plus if they are shot down, they are cheaper to replace than a fully manned jet (and more humane, at least to the pilot.)
You get the idea, as long as a product is able to do it good enough for a specific job which people want then that product can do well in the market. We are seeing it everywhere, flip cameras, net books, even the future of legal advice is changing because of the good enough revolution. elawyering is emerging as a new way to give legal advice. Richard Granat designed and marketed applications that people who need legal advice can use on the net without seeing a lawyer. For example if a couple is going through an easy divorce where the two parties are more or less agreeable with each other, they can upload an application and answer certain questions, and the application can give them the paperwork they need to file the divorce. Of course this won’t replace lawyers as there will always be messy divorces and other lawsuits where people need to talk face to face with their legal representative, but for certain purposes elawyering is good enough.
This makes me wonder though, how long will the good enough revolution last? As long as a product does 80 percent of what we want, we seem to be happy-for now. Will quality diminish and die out? As almost every generation predicts as they see the world change in weird and interesting ways? Is there any genuine reason for concern or optimism because of the good enough revolution? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions; I know the world will continue to evolve as people evolve. New ideas are shaping the world all the time and it will be interesting to see how far and how long the good enough revolution will last.
The article made some interesting observations, the health and military industries are currently going through their own good enough revolutions. MQ-1 Predator Drones are being used by the military in many combat zones. They don’t go very high, or fast, and only hold 2 rockets. Not nearly as fast high as many of their fighter jets or bombers, but what he Predator can do is scan an area for almost 20 hours without a recharge, much longer than a pilot can fly without needing a break. Plus if they are shot down, they are cheaper to replace than a fully manned jet (and more humane, at least to the pilot.)
You get the idea, as long as a product is able to do it good enough for a specific job which people want then that product can do well in the market. We are seeing it everywhere, flip cameras, net books, even the future of legal advice is changing because of the good enough revolution. elawyering is emerging as a new way to give legal advice. Richard Granat designed and marketed applications that people who need legal advice can use on the net without seeing a lawyer. For example if a couple is going through an easy divorce where the two parties are more or less agreeable with each other, they can upload an application and answer certain questions, and the application can give them the paperwork they need to file the divorce. Of course this won’t replace lawyers as there will always be messy divorces and other lawsuits where people need to talk face to face with their legal representative, but for certain purposes elawyering is good enough.
This makes me wonder though, how long will the good enough revolution last? As long as a product does 80 percent of what we want, we seem to be happy-for now. Will quality diminish and die out? As almost every generation predicts as they see the world change in weird and interesting ways? Is there any genuine reason for concern or optimism because of the good enough revolution? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions; I know the world will continue to evolve as people evolve. New ideas are shaping the world all the time and it will be interesting to see how far and how long the good enough revolution will last.
Departures and The Ritual of Death.
When movies make us question our own mortality, usually we leave with an uneasy feeling and are quick to forget about it. Not so with “Okiribito” (Departures), a wonderful film from Japan that confronts the questions of mortality, happiness, life, death in the rawest, barest ways, after all this is a movie about people who ritualistically send the dead off to the great divine.
The story begins as most movies where the protagonist undergoes a major transformation, in the middle of that transformation. The audience learns that the protagonist has moved back to his hometown from Tokyo and that the last few months have been awkward. This is a great way to grab the audience’s attention, forcing them to start to ask questions. But another great strength about the opening scene is cinema photography, the winter snow a perfect white, the road still visible, going somewhere, but we do not know where, after all the character is in the middle of his journey, spiritually, mentally, physically and we must go back to the beginning.
We quickly learn that the protagonist, Daigo Kobayashi (Masahiro Motoki) was a cello player for an orchestra that was recently dissolved. Figuring that he isn’t talented enough to get into another orchestra he suggest to his wife Mika, (Kazuko Yoshiyuki) that they move to his hometown. Unemployed, he looks for work, and finds an ad for departures, by a company called the NK Incorporated, figuring it might be a travel company he applies.
Soon we learn that the job deals with dead bodies, which he would be, expected to touch, clean, and beatify with makeup. But he soon learns, the beauty of the rituals that his employer Ikuei Sasaki (Tsutomu Yamazaki), perform to help send the dead off, beautiful and fresh. Eventually he is able to perform the rituals by himself.
The death becomes a metaphor for transformation. Not only are the bodies dead and cold, and then made warm and beautiful from the undertakers care, in front of the families, Diago and Mika undergo a transformation in life. Their marriage, strained from the move, and eventually from Diago’s work, isn’t a strain comfort; Diago makes more money than he did before, but a strain from the loss of prestige, and of the bigness of the city. We all want our lives to have space, and scope, we want to do great things, things that people will see, and say, ‘Hey that person is doing something great!” We want our lives to be full of adventure, and to ultimately mean something. But we often forget that our life intrinsically means something by the very act of living. That by our communication, our touching, our sharing with others that we give meaning to each other and validate life. Diago learns that while his job has no prestige, and that he lives in a small town with a fraction of the number of people as did Tokoyo, his life had more meaning because he was able to touch, and heal more people than he could ever have in Tokyo, that his job wasn’t a celebration of death, but a confirmation of life, that someone lived, that his audience, were people that were touched by this now passed on person.
“Okiribito” then becomes a movie that isn’t trying to make the viewer feel sad, or uncomfortable, but to help them confirm that their existence matters, just by doing what they do, breath, eat, love, work, play. Only then is the true beauty of the undertakers ritual of death fully bloomed.
The story begins as most movies where the protagonist undergoes a major transformation, in the middle of that transformation. The audience learns that the protagonist has moved back to his hometown from Tokyo and that the last few months have been awkward. This is a great way to grab the audience’s attention, forcing them to start to ask questions. But another great strength about the opening scene is cinema photography, the winter snow a perfect white, the road still visible, going somewhere, but we do not know where, after all the character is in the middle of his journey, spiritually, mentally, physically and we must go back to the beginning.
We quickly learn that the protagonist, Daigo Kobayashi (Masahiro Motoki) was a cello player for an orchestra that was recently dissolved. Figuring that he isn’t talented enough to get into another orchestra he suggest to his wife Mika, (Kazuko Yoshiyuki) that they move to his hometown. Unemployed, he looks for work, and finds an ad for departures, by a company called the NK Incorporated, figuring it might be a travel company he applies.
Soon we learn that the job deals with dead bodies, which he would be, expected to touch, clean, and beatify with makeup. But he soon learns, the beauty of the rituals that his employer Ikuei Sasaki (Tsutomu Yamazaki), perform to help send the dead off, beautiful and fresh. Eventually he is able to perform the rituals by himself.
The death becomes a metaphor for transformation. Not only are the bodies dead and cold, and then made warm and beautiful from the undertakers care, in front of the families, Diago and Mika undergo a transformation in life. Their marriage, strained from the move, and eventually from Diago’s work, isn’t a strain comfort; Diago makes more money than he did before, but a strain from the loss of prestige, and of the bigness of the city. We all want our lives to have space, and scope, we want to do great things, things that people will see, and say, ‘Hey that person is doing something great!” We want our lives to be full of adventure, and to ultimately mean something. But we often forget that our life intrinsically means something by the very act of living. That by our communication, our touching, our sharing with others that we give meaning to each other and validate life. Diago learns that while his job has no prestige, and that he lives in a small town with a fraction of the number of people as did Tokoyo, his life had more meaning because he was able to touch, and heal more people than he could ever have in Tokyo, that his job wasn’t a celebration of death, but a confirmation of life, that someone lived, that his audience, were people that were touched by this now passed on person.
“Okiribito” then becomes a movie that isn’t trying to make the viewer feel sad, or uncomfortable, but to help them confirm that their existence matters, just by doing what they do, breath, eat, love, work, play. Only then is the true beauty of the undertakers ritual of death fully bloomed.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Yesterday was a day of mistakes.
For me at least. I am trying to take a systematic approach to learn from my mistakes, use a little science in the art of living.
I mean, I did some things right, but I made three big blunders.
1. I pissed off a friend of mine online. We have known each other for over 20 years, he is a nice guy, has a record for drunk driving and a few other things. Anyway, he is usually the nicest guy I know, so he was giving me pointers about finding jobs, be confident, be a guy the people at the company would want to hang out with. He said he would rather have someone with lots of confidence and no education over someone with lots of education but no confidence. I agreed and took it a step farther, saying I would hire someone with both an education and confidence. He immediately exploded, took it as a personal attack, and said how its sad that I would try to make fun of other people through my insecurities. I was like W T F? I just took his statement to the next logical step. Alas, my friend has no college degree and is a bit touchy about it, which I found the hard way. I said sorry, and tried to praise him about his accomplishments (he does a lot of different things). But in the end he was like, fuck you. So lesson one, think about how the other person might take what you say in a completely wrong way. I didn't wasn't trying to rub his lack of education into his nose, I wasn't trying to say that I was better at all, I'm not, I am unemployed and he has a job. But for whatever reasons he took my statement as a big insult.
2. My Stepfather is out of town, and so its just my mother and me at the house. I was asking some questions across the room and eventually she exploded, saying if I have questions I should come to her and not have her come to me. It's a bad habit that I picked up from my step-father who always expects me to come to him when he wants to tell me something or ask for my assistance, I could be in my room writing a paper and he would be like, "Bink, I need you". I hate it, and I have told him so. I shouldn't treat others how I don't want to be treated, esp my mother.
3. Last night a few friends of my mom brought a speaker to our house. He is a new age type guy, speaks about "star gates" and stuff like that. I don't do well in big tables where people talk about things I have no interest in. Anyway, one of my mom's friends brought her daughter to come meet me. She was 26, very pretty, and has a 3 year old son. She didn't bring her son, but I was an ungracious and didn't even speak to her. I realize she probably had to get a baby sitter to come. we sat diagonally across from each other in the table, I was reluctant to start a conversation from someone so far away on the table, plus cut through the conversation the star gate guy was having with the other ladies. I eventually left and went to my room to watch some hulu. She then left shortly afterward. I felt bad that I wasted her and her mom's time. I know I have no obligation to be friends with everybody, but I could have at least tried to make her feel welcome. Lesson: Make people feel welcome.
This has inspired me to write a little paragraph:
How do we learn from our mistakes? By not making them? People seem so bent on living the perfect life, so petrified to make mistakes that they are afraid to try new things, explore the world, and perfect themselves through self examination. Life is an art and a science. We make mistakes; we live and breathe in organic, unsystematic and asymmetrical lives. Our ambitions take new forms, our hopes, higher or lower planes, our growth widens and recedes like the seasons. But every time we make a mistake, we have an opportunity to systematically prune the bad branches so that the good ones can grow stronger, and bear fruit, or we continue to make the same mistakes, continue to let the unnecessary baggage of our lives hold us down, to the point that the tree of life is a jumbled mess, sunlight can’t get to the leaves, and the fruit of our dreams never grow and ripen.
I mean, I did some things right, but I made three big blunders.
1. I pissed off a friend of mine online. We have known each other for over 20 years, he is a nice guy, has a record for drunk driving and a few other things. Anyway, he is usually the nicest guy I know, so he was giving me pointers about finding jobs, be confident, be a guy the people at the company would want to hang out with. He said he would rather have someone with lots of confidence and no education over someone with lots of education but no confidence. I agreed and took it a step farther, saying I would hire someone with both an education and confidence. He immediately exploded, took it as a personal attack, and said how its sad that I would try to make fun of other people through my insecurities. I was like W T F? I just took his statement to the next logical step. Alas, my friend has no college degree and is a bit touchy about it, which I found the hard way. I said sorry, and tried to praise him about his accomplishments (he does a lot of different things). But in the end he was like, fuck you. So lesson one, think about how the other person might take what you say in a completely wrong way. I didn't wasn't trying to rub his lack of education into his nose, I wasn't trying to say that I was better at all, I'm not, I am unemployed and he has a job. But for whatever reasons he took my statement as a big insult.
2. My Stepfather is out of town, and so its just my mother and me at the house. I was asking some questions across the room and eventually she exploded, saying if I have questions I should come to her and not have her come to me. It's a bad habit that I picked up from my step-father who always expects me to come to him when he wants to tell me something or ask for my assistance, I could be in my room writing a paper and he would be like, "Bink, I need you". I hate it, and I have told him so. I shouldn't treat others how I don't want to be treated, esp my mother.
3. Last night a few friends of my mom brought a speaker to our house. He is a new age type guy, speaks about "star gates" and stuff like that. I don't do well in big tables where people talk about things I have no interest in. Anyway, one of my mom's friends brought her daughter to come meet me. She was 26, very pretty, and has a 3 year old son. She didn't bring her son, but I was an ungracious and didn't even speak to her. I realize she probably had to get a baby sitter to come. we sat diagonally across from each other in the table, I was reluctant to start a conversation from someone so far away on the table, plus cut through the conversation the star gate guy was having with the other ladies. I eventually left and went to my room to watch some hulu. She then left shortly afterward. I felt bad that I wasted her and her mom's time. I know I have no obligation to be friends with everybody, but I could have at least tried to make her feel welcome. Lesson: Make people feel welcome.
This has inspired me to write a little paragraph:
How do we learn from our mistakes? By not making them? People seem so bent on living the perfect life, so petrified to make mistakes that they are afraid to try new things, explore the world, and perfect themselves through self examination. Life is an art and a science. We make mistakes; we live and breathe in organic, unsystematic and asymmetrical lives. Our ambitions take new forms, our hopes, higher or lower planes, our growth widens and recedes like the seasons. But every time we make a mistake, we have an opportunity to systematically prune the bad branches so that the good ones can grow stronger, and bear fruit, or we continue to make the same mistakes, continue to let the unnecessary baggage of our lives hold us down, to the point that the tree of life is a jumbled mess, sunlight can’t get to the leaves, and the fruit of our dreams never grow and ripen.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Roaming in my eyes.
Oh where does my girl roam?
When we look into each others eyes?
Why do we feel at home?
When we light up like fireflies?
In the green pastures
Where the horses graze
I can feel the sunshine
Almost like her gaze.
My heart is a- flutter
When I feel her near.
I heart beats calmer
When her voice I can hear.
Oh where does my girl roam?
When we look into each others eyes?
Why do we feel at home?
When we light up like fireflies?
I feel the tingle on my skin,
When I can touch her
I know it’s not a sin
To feel that much better.
Oh where does my girl roam?
When we look into each others eyes?
Why do we feel at home?
When we light up like fireflies?
When we look into each others eyes?
Why do we feel at home?
When we light up like fireflies?
In the green pastures
Where the horses graze
I can feel the sunshine
Almost like her gaze.
My heart is a- flutter
When I feel her near.
I heart beats calmer
When her voice I can hear.
Oh where does my girl roam?
When we look into each others eyes?
Why do we feel at home?
When we light up like fireflies?
I feel the tingle on my skin,
When I can touch her
I know it’s not a sin
To feel that much better.
Oh where does my girl roam?
When we look into each others eyes?
Why do we feel at home?
When we light up like fireflies?
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Running
I ran through the forest and into the mystic. The green leave filtered sunlight in contrast with the dusted naked sunlight gave the earth a heavenly glow. The unknowable, was knowable, the unattainable, attainable. There was mystery still, but there was means to solving that mystery. It was almost as if God was walking through that forest, or was I walking through the mystic of divine? A simple pile of an animals poop became a sign that life was nearby, the call of birds were the real singing of angels.
I ran for joy, I ran for life, I ran for my life, for my joy. I ran because I want to catch up with myself, with the I AM. Though those hundreds of sleeping ents, and millions of billions of microbes, I could still see the illuminated path, the journey to whom I am and who I want to become. I can’t not fight anymore, I must charge through the barriers of my happiness, climb the walls of my self-deprecating ego, and fly again.
In the mystic I flew, slowly, steadily, and in a sense still grounded, but I still flew. I wasn’t high, but I wasn’t below the surface of my own grave. I could feel my heart pound, I could hear my breath, and I could see fleeting waves of light. But I am not strong, not yet, but I will be, I will be able to fly higher, and peer into the deepness of myself, and see the greatness of others. To connect and flow in the river of life, that we all are a part of.
I ran for joy, I ran for life, I ran for my life, for my joy. I ran because I want to catch up with myself, with the I AM. Though those hundreds of sleeping ents, and millions of billions of microbes, I could still see the illuminated path, the journey to whom I am and who I want to become. I can’t not fight anymore, I must charge through the barriers of my happiness, climb the walls of my self-deprecating ego, and fly again.
In the mystic I flew, slowly, steadily, and in a sense still grounded, but I still flew. I wasn’t high, but I wasn’t below the surface of my own grave. I could feel my heart pound, I could hear my breath, and I could see fleeting waves of light. But I am not strong, not yet, but I will be, I will be able to fly higher, and peer into the deepness of myself, and see the greatness of others. To connect and flow in the river of life, that we all are a part of.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Up up and away!
It has been a long time since a movie has lifted my spirits and had me leaving the theater with a smile. Up is a masterpiece in storytelling. This is a movie that shows that you don’t need the wittiest dialogue, or the flashiest animation, or the most inventive imagination to please audience- although Up has those in spades- what a movie really needs are characters that the audience can relate to, and cheer for.
Up is the story of an old man who has recently lost his wife, and the fulfillment of a dream he and his former wife shared. Up is the story of a boy, who isn’t he brightest, or the coolest, who aspires to get the last badge in a boy scout like organization. Up is about the dangers of obsession, the value of true friendship even when it extends beyond our own species.
Sounds generic? Sounds boring? No! This is all given the Pixar flair, which will leave you wanting more.
Relationships are the true heart of this movie. While moments like when the house flies for the first time, widens our eyes with wonder, it is really the small, personal, moments that make this movie a joy. In one particular scene Russ the old man sits down and looks at a book that shows the life he and his wife had lead together, their adventures, the music is soothing, and the moment touching. The wild action of the movie created some wonderful thrills, but it was those soft, touching, human moments that lifted this movie from a mere summer animation movie to a Pixar classic.
This film is a Herculean feat of imagination. Pixar has done the impossible and has made not only made the idea of a house floating from the power of a million balloons seem credible, but they have also given credence to the idea of technology assisted dogs that talk, serve and act as much as human as humans do, until of course they don’t. The roadrunner like bird that likes chocolate and the boy it loves shows us that friends can come in all sorts of packages.
Of course this being a Pixar movie means that the animation will be top notch, and it is. The landscapes, the waterfalls, and the skies look like they took pictures of everything and then rendered in cartoon colors. Everything looks real. Inside the house is no less spectacular, the pictures and vases, the things that make a home, home were crafted with perfection.
Pixar shows us the power of the imagination, and once again illustrates the flexibility and power of the human spirit. Kids and Parents, as well as other human beings will enjoy this movie, if only for different reasons.
Up is the story of an old man who has recently lost his wife, and the fulfillment of a dream he and his former wife shared. Up is the story of a boy, who isn’t he brightest, or the coolest, who aspires to get the last badge in a boy scout like organization. Up is about the dangers of obsession, the value of true friendship even when it extends beyond our own species.
Sounds generic? Sounds boring? No! This is all given the Pixar flair, which will leave you wanting more.
Relationships are the true heart of this movie. While moments like when the house flies for the first time, widens our eyes with wonder, it is really the small, personal, moments that make this movie a joy. In one particular scene Russ the old man sits down and looks at a book that shows the life he and his wife had lead together, their adventures, the music is soothing, and the moment touching. The wild action of the movie created some wonderful thrills, but it was those soft, touching, human moments that lifted this movie from a mere summer animation movie to a Pixar classic.
This film is a Herculean feat of imagination. Pixar has done the impossible and has made not only made the idea of a house floating from the power of a million balloons seem credible, but they have also given credence to the idea of technology assisted dogs that talk, serve and act as much as human as humans do, until of course they don’t. The roadrunner like bird that likes chocolate and the boy it loves shows us that friends can come in all sorts of packages.
Of course this being a Pixar movie means that the animation will be top notch, and it is. The landscapes, the waterfalls, and the skies look like they took pictures of everything and then rendered in cartoon colors. Everything looks real. Inside the house is no less spectacular, the pictures and vases, the things that make a home, home were crafted with perfection.
Pixar shows us the power of the imagination, and once again illustrates the flexibility and power of the human spirit. Kids and Parents, as well as other human beings will enjoy this movie, if only for different reasons.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Just the feelings of this morning.
Everybody wants to hear what they know
Everybody wants to be part of the show
Everybody wants to think they grow
Everybody wants life to glow…..
But I can tell you right now
That these feelings are impermanent
That life is something of an illusion
We live for a second of bliss
The time is ripe for ourselves
To shine through the darkness of our shells
The change has been coming
Since before our singing….
The days are brighter now
And the birds are in flight
And I know that the sunshine
Isn’t forever in sight
You got to plow through the fields
In darkness and in light
Just throwing those seeds of tomorrow
No matter what’s in sight.
Just keep moving forward
Keep challenging,
The days are getting shorter
But we can still sing.
Everybody wants to be part of the show
Everybody wants to think they grow
Everybody wants life to glow…..
But I can tell you right now
That these feelings are impermanent
That life is something of an illusion
We live for a second of bliss
The time is ripe for ourselves
To shine through the darkness of our shells
The change has been coming
Since before our singing….
The days are brighter now
And the birds are in flight
And I know that the sunshine
Isn’t forever in sight
You got to plow through the fields
In darkness and in light
Just throwing those seeds of tomorrow
No matter what’s in sight.
Just keep moving forward
Keep challenging,
The days are getting shorter
But we can still sing.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
So the first line is stolen... from somehwere.
I am a thinker, a liar, a magic bean buyer.
I am a philosopher, a danger, a wonder;
A thunder, a soul, a thinker of magical things.
I am a room, part of birth and doom,
A soul flung to the far reaches of the universe
A lost man, blind in dark alleys.
Sweeping meadows with a soft breeze
That is what gives me hope
Clouds rolling across azure skies: that’s the dope.
Wonder is my fodder
My stories are spun with just enough truth
Just enough facts, that they can be drunk like juice.
I don’t have any faults, but posses all the virtues
Or is the none of the virtues and all the faults?
I can’t decide. I will just go down this path and find out.
I am a philosopher, a danger, a wonder;
A thunder, a soul, a thinker of magical things.
I am a room, part of birth and doom,
A soul flung to the far reaches of the universe
A lost man, blind in dark alleys.
Sweeping meadows with a soft breeze
That is what gives me hope
Clouds rolling across azure skies: that’s the dope.
Wonder is my fodder
My stories are spun with just enough truth
Just enough facts, that they can be drunk like juice.
I don’t have any faults, but posses all the virtues
Or is the none of the virtues and all the faults?
I can’t decide. I will just go down this path and find out.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Surbia
The day was slowly falling into night. The lights on the street were starting to come to life and the kids on the street were protesting their mother’s calls. Eventually parental rule triumphed and the street became quiet. There was nothing to think about on those lonely summer nights, except perhaps the existence of this absurdity called life. But there was no time to think anyway, fathers came home, meals were cooked, and children put to bed. TV’s were turned on, drama played from sea to sea, across the entire country. What good was it to think at all, when really, life required very little of it?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The mornings.
The wind ripped and roared as I drove down HWY 1, causing my car to sometimes slide out of my lane. Luckily, I was able to maintain control of the 1984 300 TD Mercedes and I drove off to school. The morning spring sunshine started to warm the day and if you looked to your right you would see the pacific ocean, with waves rolling because of the wind and the pale blue sky kissing the horizon. The oil tankers are the only thing that kills the illusion that the world could just go on forever and ever.
I keep driving down the highway at a steady pace of 70 MPH on he 65. There are a few cars on the road and the most of them are passing me. I keep going up the hills, and down the hills, my view of the ocean rising and falling, like the waves. I see a hawk in the sky, catching the early morning heat and going higher, and higher. The two lane highway continues to go on and on, and I am not ont eh road driving, my body is on autopilot, I have done this millions fo times before.
My mind thinks. The morning poems and songs creep into my head, the newest additions to a vast collection of nothingness. I never write down what goes in my head, I am top busy.
"Ohh, I see what i see/ I know what I know/ I feel the day will go on forever/ I just want a breeze to blow/ and take me away to the heavens above/ to take me to the peacemaker/"
crap really, nothing that matters. But I drive, and drive and eventually the pacific ocean disappears, and I start driving inland, into the city of Santa Barbara. But I do not notice the city at all. There is nothing to notice anymore. Spanish tiles? check. Houses on the hills? check. In and Out Burger? Check.
I drive and drive until I find my Castillo exit and turn right, and right. I go up a small hill and see the pacific ocean again! I drive straight through the light and find the parking lot next to the baseball diamond. Free parking!
I park and without even thinking start my journey up the stairs and through the forest to the campus...
The world is so invisible. The next thing I know I am sitting down in a classroom, forty miles away from my bed. How did I end up here?
I keep driving down the highway at a steady pace of 70 MPH on he 65. There are a few cars on the road and the most of them are passing me. I keep going up the hills, and down the hills, my view of the ocean rising and falling, like the waves. I see a hawk in the sky, catching the early morning heat and going higher, and higher. The two lane highway continues to go on and on, and I am not ont eh road driving, my body is on autopilot, I have done this millions fo times before.
My mind thinks. The morning poems and songs creep into my head, the newest additions to a vast collection of nothingness. I never write down what goes in my head, I am top busy.
"Ohh, I see what i see/ I know what I know/ I feel the day will go on forever/ I just want a breeze to blow/ and take me away to the heavens above/ to take me to the peacemaker/"
crap really, nothing that matters. But I drive, and drive and eventually the pacific ocean disappears, and I start driving inland, into the city of Santa Barbara. But I do not notice the city at all. There is nothing to notice anymore. Spanish tiles? check. Houses on the hills? check. In and Out Burger? Check.
I drive and drive until I find my Castillo exit and turn right, and right. I go up a small hill and see the pacific ocean again! I drive straight through the light and find the parking lot next to the baseball diamond. Free parking!
I park and without even thinking start my journey up the stairs and through the forest to the campus...
The world is so invisible. The next thing I know I am sitting down in a classroom, forty miles away from my bed. How did I end up here?
Monday, April 13, 2009
The man on the moon looked like he had a clean shave and shone brightly. The stars didn't twinkle and long amber grass could be seen swaying in a far off field. There were cows clustering in the near pasture, eating and walking and shitting and mooing. The crickets were in singing their nightly opera. Across the valley there was the highway, about a mile from where I stood, little trails of light speeding by to civilization at three am. I looked up with my binoculars and could see the moutain ridges indent the edge of the moon, I saw the craters and other details of our celestial neigbhor quite well. I put my lens down and sighed, here I was, alone, on a peice of land that once had been the home of a proud indian tribe, trying to find meaning to my meaningless life. At least the Chumash actually used that land, I thought.
Suddenly I saw a streak of something dive into the the earth and scoop up a gopher. It was an owl that figured the now grazed pasture was a perfect hunting ground. The crickets were silent, resting, ready to sing their third act, the act of conflict, the act about the battle between good and evil and fall of the angels. Soon they would sing their sad song.
I sat down on the bare ground and thought. There must be more to life than this, more to life than crickets, and cows, and death, and life. There has to be more than survival. I looked up to the bare sky, dominated by the white glow of the moon sighed, it really never ends, ever.
Suddenly I saw a streak of something dive into the the earth and scoop up a gopher. It was an owl that figured the now grazed pasture was a perfect hunting ground. The crickets were silent, resting, ready to sing their third act, the act of conflict, the act about the battle between good and evil and fall of the angels. Soon they would sing their sad song.
I sat down on the bare ground and thought. There must be more to life than this, more to life than crickets, and cows, and death, and life. There has to be more than survival. I looked up to the bare sky, dominated by the white glow of the moon sighed, it really never ends, ever.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Introduction of Bucksnort.
My brain quit and said it would stop thinking five years ago. It said that it wasn’t ready to die, and it decided to still let my lungs breath, and heart beat and kidneys function and liver detoxify, but it wouldn’t think. I have not had an original thought since I was 19. I am now 24, a living zombie. My flesh is shiny and clean, I have the latest toys in the following areas: Masturbators, photography, computers, cooking, and passive entertainment (TV and satellite). I used to have such vivid dreams, where there was color, and life and greatness, now I just close my eyes and wake up at 8:30 every goddamn morning. It doesn’t matter if I close my eyes at 3 am or 11 pm the night before, I still wake up at 8:30 am. I have been very grateful that my penis still works, which means, I can still fuck. Fucking requires no imagination, just insert and thrust. Life has become meaningless, without imagination there is only damnation.
Since I was already damned, I went ahead and made a deal with the Devil. The deal was this: my soul for an imagination. I was very specific, that I didn’t want a lame imagination that had no depth, think Homer from the Simpson’s. Nor, did I want an imagination that was so complex and vast that the weight and frequency of ideas would drive me insane. I didn’t want to end up in an insane asylum. I asked for an imagination that would bring color back in my dreams, and ideas to write cool books and inspire people. I even had the balls to ask for an imagination that would help me find a way to not end up in hell after I die. The devil laughed and laughed at that, saying, “You sir, have balls. I like men with a nice big set of balls, epically if said balls are able to suggest the king of hell to put a loophole in his own contract.” I am not sure if he was serious or not until he showed me the place in hell where he keeps his marketing and branding teams, you know, to soften his image a bit. He said after I die I can work there. At least I wouldn’t have to wallow in a pit of fiery earth, or be anal rammed every day and I can still use that shiny imagination.
After I made my deal with the Prince of Darkness, I set out to write my first novel, “The Fiery One”. Which, I am sure you all know, was an instant hit. Soon after my first novel was published, I pumped out another bestseller, “Nighttime”. So far I have written five bestsellers and I already have two more books in my publisher’s hands, which brings the total to seven books in a four year period. Not bad. I am racking in the dough, meeting and banging hot chicks, living the life of my hero Hank from Californication.
I know, I know many of you are thinking that I am wasting my vast imagination on such childish personal things like wealth acquisition and that my brain was right to quit. But hey, I have given quite a lot to charity; I just haven’t found a cause to champion yet, are writers allowed to do that? I mean Angela Jolie or Madonna can have their projects to better the world, but I am busy writing and banging. You don't see Stephen King tell his readers to help the Sudanese, or end worldwide slavery. Besides, I only have time to cut checks.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy my next book that comes out in November, titled “Naked Death” It’s about this guy who dies naked and how he ended up there. Hope you like it!
Since I was already damned, I went ahead and made a deal with the Devil. The deal was this: my soul for an imagination. I was very specific, that I didn’t want a lame imagination that had no depth, think Homer from the Simpson’s. Nor, did I want an imagination that was so complex and vast that the weight and frequency of ideas would drive me insane. I didn’t want to end up in an insane asylum. I asked for an imagination that would bring color back in my dreams, and ideas to write cool books and inspire people. I even had the balls to ask for an imagination that would help me find a way to not end up in hell after I die. The devil laughed and laughed at that, saying, “You sir, have balls. I like men with a nice big set of balls, epically if said balls are able to suggest the king of hell to put a loophole in his own contract.” I am not sure if he was serious or not until he showed me the place in hell where he keeps his marketing and branding teams, you know, to soften his image a bit. He said after I die I can work there. At least I wouldn’t have to wallow in a pit of fiery earth, or be anal rammed every day and I can still use that shiny imagination.
After I made my deal with the Prince of Darkness, I set out to write my first novel, “The Fiery One”. Which, I am sure you all know, was an instant hit. Soon after my first novel was published, I pumped out another bestseller, “Nighttime”. So far I have written five bestsellers and I already have two more books in my publisher’s hands, which brings the total to seven books in a four year period. Not bad. I am racking in the dough, meeting and banging hot chicks, living the life of my hero Hank from Californication.
I know, I know many of you are thinking that I am wasting my vast imagination on such childish personal things like wealth acquisition and that my brain was right to quit. But hey, I have given quite a lot to charity; I just haven’t found a cause to champion yet, are writers allowed to do that? I mean Angela Jolie or Madonna can have their projects to better the world, but I am busy writing and banging. You don't see Stephen King tell his readers to help the Sudanese, or end worldwide slavery. Besides, I only have time to cut checks.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy my next book that comes out in November, titled “Naked Death” It’s about this guy who dies naked and how he ended up there. Hope you like it!
I wrote this four years ago, drunk.
There is no tempest that can destroy thy beauty. Nor is there a sun that can singe thy skin, and make it ugly. There is no wind that can uproot thy hair, and bald thee. the only thing that can destroy thee is thy creator. And thy creator is love and thus will not destroy thee. For thy beauty, and wit, and personality, make thee impossible to deny a throne. There is not devil that can temp thee for thy kindness and virtue makes thee incorruptible. There is only thee, and thee is all that can be. For what else would thee want to be? A cow? An ass? Nay, not even a mermaid could be as grand and wonderful as thee. The sun worships thee, and the wind caresses thy face with such tenderness; with such love. There is nothing that is better than thy smile, a thousand warriors would kill thy enemies to see that smile. That smile! Those radiant smiles! That wonderful laugh that angels are jealous of! What wonder! What greatness! Only your divine creator can exceed thy greatness and perfection of thy laugh, and only barely so.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Sickness.
So, last night I wrote my first blog entry around after 11pm and had a cold. I just wasn't tired and didn't feel bad at the time, fast forward to this morning and my nose and sinus is stuffed to the max. Of course I would sleep in any other day, but today I had a paper due, and my professor has two rules: 1. No late papers. and 2. No papers submitted by email. I woke up a tad late for a shower, so got dressed, ate a quick breakfast and brushed my teeth then headed out the door about 20 min later. The 15 min walk took me 20 min, but I left early enough to get there on time. While I turned my paper in my professor was like, "Oh god, are you ok?" and I mumbled something about sleep. It was a bright sunny day outside and I had a coat to act as a pillow and went to sleep on the grass. While I wish that got me over the cold outright, I did feel a lot better. Right now I feel surprisingly good and just have mild congestion.
Luckily my tues-thursdays are pretty lax, my next class wasn't until 2:35 and I was able to recharge for it. I also got a lot of work done :) .
Never underestimate the power of sunshine and sleep
Luckily my tues-thursdays are pretty lax, my next class wasn't until 2:35 and I was able to recharge for it. I also got a lot of work done :) .
Never underestimate the power of sunshine and sleep
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The Purpose
It is 11 :21 pm as I type these words. I know you might be asking, "Who starts a blog at 11:21 pm?" Well, I can't seem to sleep and had an itching to do some writing. I wish I could sleep, I am almost over this cold that I have had for the last two days, and I have an early class tomorrow. But my body isn't tired, so I gotta do something with my time.
So, I get out of bed, start up the computer and start a blog.
With the millions of blogs in existence, why start another one? It's almost like having children, you know the world is overpopulated with humans, and yeah, you know that by having your own screaming pooper you are contributing to a massive problem, but at the same time, you want your own little shiny baby. I don't want children anytime soon, so that might have been a horrible analogy, but the point is made. There are so many blogs, with so many GREAT writers and so many HORRIBLE writers. Some blogs can make you laugh, others can make you cry because the writing is so horrible. I will proably be somewhere in between and will make you both laugh and cry!
The title of my blog pertains to me having a Cochlear Implant. You see I have a machine that hears for me, so that makes me a kind of a cyborg. However, I feel much more like a robot since all I do is slave away to make ends meet, which if Terminator is any indication, cyborgs have no such delusions. In fact Robot is the slavic word for slave. You are proably wondering; arn't cyborgs and Robtos interchangable? No, Cyborgs are beings with both natural systems (flesh, nervous systems, and such) and machinery (Cochelar Implants! Prothestic legs! Eletcric Nodes!). Robots on the other hand are purely mechanical. Androids are robots that look and act like humans, in case you were wondering. If that messed up paragraph makes no sense to you let me put it this way:
Cyborgs kill, Robots chill.
Or how about:
Assimov's books are better than the Terminator movies.
So yes, my title is wrong. Who cares? Would you even know if I didn't point it out? Maybe.
Now that most of the girls have fled for their lives because I have shown that I read Science Fiction, I can make a fool of myself.... it is almost midnight afterall!
The purpose of this blog is to help me be less bored.
Now, with that out of the way, I gotta go find a way to get some sleep... I might blog about it later.
So, I get out of bed, start up the computer and start a blog.
With the millions of blogs in existence, why start another one? It's almost like having children, you know the world is overpopulated with humans, and yeah, you know that by having your own screaming pooper you are contributing to a massive problem, but at the same time, you want your own little shiny baby. I don't want children anytime soon, so that might have been a horrible analogy, but the point is made. There are so many blogs, with so many GREAT writers and so many HORRIBLE writers. Some blogs can make you laugh, others can make you cry because the writing is so horrible. I will proably be somewhere in between and will make you both laugh and cry!
The title of my blog pertains to me having a Cochlear Implant. You see I have a machine that hears for me, so that makes me a kind of a cyborg. However, I feel much more like a robot since all I do is slave away to make ends meet, which if Terminator is any indication, cyborgs have no such delusions. In fact Robot is the slavic word for slave. You are proably wondering; arn't cyborgs and Robtos interchangable? No, Cyborgs are beings with both natural systems (flesh, nervous systems, and such) and machinery (Cochelar Implants! Prothestic legs! Eletcric Nodes!). Robots on the other hand are purely mechanical. Androids are robots that look and act like humans, in case you were wondering. If that messed up paragraph makes no sense to you let me put it this way:
Cyborgs kill, Robots chill.
Or how about:
Assimov's books are better than the Terminator movies.
So yes, my title is wrong. Who cares? Would you even know if I didn't point it out? Maybe.
Now that most of the girls have fled for their lives because I have shown that I read Science Fiction, I can make a fool of myself.... it is almost midnight afterall!
The purpose of this blog is to help me be less bored.
Now, with that out of the way, I gotta go find a way to get some sleep... I might blog about it later.
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