Tomorrow is the first day of a new week.
Tomorrow is the first day of a new month.
Tomorrow is the first day of a new year.
In other words the stars are lining up for a new beginning.
This last year has served to remind me how stupid I can be.
2012 is about doing better.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Just Watched Melancholia
Very interesting movie... starts off slow with slow music and slow motion pictures that almost look like stills.
Melancholia is the name of a planet that's been hiding behind the sun and finally initiates an orbital journey that will bring it into perilously close proximity with Earth, but as the film begins you don't really know anything about that context... you're just watching Justine and her newlywed husband as they arrive for their reception at a mansion owned by Justine's brother inlaw... played by Keifer Sutherland (turning into Donald right before your eyes).
As the incredibly expensive and seemingly unending reception progresses you watch Jusine fade in and out of depression so that there seems to be a two-fold significance to the film's title... the melancholia of the bride as well as the name of the approaching planet.
Enough about the story... now about symbolism. I'm not smart enough to explain it, but I can at least detect some of it when I see it.
There is Biblical symbolism in the name of the horse that only Justine can ride... his name is Abraham... and twice she rides him and both times he balks at crossing a bridge on the way to the village... and when the movie concludes after more than two hours... you will perhaps observe that at no time do you see any scene anywhere except on the golf course estate where the mansion is located. Later Justine's sister tries to escape doom by riding a golf cart to the village and... oddly enough... it dies at the bridge precisely where Abraham consistently refuses to go further.
Also the movie is split into two parts... the first titled Justine and the second titled Claire after her sister. Justine and Claire.... Their initials are strikingly similar to those of Jesus and Christ... am I stretching here? Very likely.
Claire's little boy is Leo. I think an obvious reference to a constellation which seems relevant as much of the movie includes star-gazing.
Then there are numbers... at one point Claire's husband is trying to impress Justine with how much money he has spent on the reception party and demands of her if she knows how many holes there are on the golf course. Answer 18.
Also guests are required to guess how many beans are in a crystal receptacle... eventually we learn the answer is 678 supposedly trivial, but Justine uses her knowledge of this as evidence that she knows things others don't... like there is no life on other planets. But two things about the number itself... first if you add the number of the tribes of Israel (12) to the number of the mark of the beast of Revelation (666) you get 678. That's the first thing... the second... if you observe that 6, 7, and 8 are sequential cardinal numbers... I think it's interesting that the very next number we hear about is when Justine sarcastically suggests that during the end of the world they ought to listen to Beethoven's 9th,,, coincidence? Makes me wonder if I could have found a 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 had I been looking for them from the beginning.
That's all I came up with on my own... now to research the supposed critics and experts.
Thanks for reading.
PS: Came up with a couple more things... The reference to the 18th hole is delivered by Claire's husband, John. In the Bible, John is the writer of the Book of Revelation so I took a peak at chapter 18 and like most of the book... it's about the wickedness and destruction of Babylon... but in the 23rd verse we get:
Melancholia is the name of a planet that's been hiding behind the sun and finally initiates an orbital journey that will bring it into perilously close proximity with Earth, but as the film begins you don't really know anything about that context... you're just watching Justine and her newlywed husband as they arrive for their reception at a mansion owned by Justine's brother inlaw... played by Keifer Sutherland (turning into Donald right before your eyes).
As the incredibly expensive and seemingly unending reception progresses you watch Jusine fade in and out of depression so that there seems to be a two-fold significance to the film's title... the melancholia of the bride as well as the name of the approaching planet.
Enough about the story... now about symbolism. I'm not smart enough to explain it, but I can at least detect some of it when I see it.
There is Biblical symbolism in the name of the horse that only Justine can ride... his name is Abraham... and twice she rides him and both times he balks at crossing a bridge on the way to the village... and when the movie concludes after more than two hours... you will perhaps observe that at no time do you see any scene anywhere except on the golf course estate where the mansion is located. Later Justine's sister tries to escape doom by riding a golf cart to the village and... oddly enough... it dies at the bridge precisely where Abraham consistently refuses to go further.
Also the movie is split into two parts... the first titled Justine and the second titled Claire after her sister. Justine and Claire.... Their initials are strikingly similar to those of Jesus and Christ... am I stretching here? Very likely.
Claire's little boy is Leo. I think an obvious reference to a constellation which seems relevant as much of the movie includes star-gazing.
Then there are numbers... at one point Claire's husband is trying to impress Justine with how much money he has spent on the reception party and demands of her if she knows how many holes there are on the golf course. Answer 18.
Also guests are required to guess how many beans are in a crystal receptacle... eventually we learn the answer is 678 supposedly trivial, but Justine uses her knowledge of this as evidence that she knows things others don't... like there is no life on other planets. But two things about the number itself... first if you add the number of the tribes of Israel (12) to the number of the mark of the beast of Revelation (666) you get 678. That's the first thing... the second... if you observe that 6, 7, and 8 are sequential cardinal numbers... I think it's interesting that the very next number we hear about is when Justine sarcastically suggests that during the end of the world they ought to listen to Beethoven's 9th,,, coincidence? Makes me wonder if I could have found a 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 had I been looking for them from the beginning.
That's all I came up with on my own... now to research the supposed critics and experts.
Thanks for reading.
PS: Came up with a couple more things... The reference to the 18th hole is delivered by Claire's husband, John. In the Bible, John is the writer of the Book of Revelation so I took a peak at chapter 18 and like most of the book... it's about the wickedness and destruction of Babylon... but in the 23rd verse we get:
And the voice of the bridegroom
and of the bride
shall be heard no more
at all in thee
Also... back to the horse Abraham not being able to cross the bridge... during her depression Justine is similarly unable to get into the bathtub... this could be one of those movies in which water plays a great role in the symbolism.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
The Silent Treatment
This past weekend in the poker room where I work a player was collecting a large pot he'd just won and someone exclaimed how lucky he was. His explanation, "clean living!" I thought that was pretty amusing. Today I feel I've enjoyed clean living based on the fact that it's now been one month since I've gambled.
But something else has emerged in my lifestyle as well... I call it my quiet time. I feel as though I have spent the past 29 years navigating a raging storm of disappointment in matters of the heart. And just recently it has subsided and I spend day after day not really thinking of anyone in particular but just happily keeping myself to myself.
This is one reason why I do not long for my youth as others seem to. I remember my youth and it was chaos.
Now I keep myself busy with things I enjoy.
Reading Mary Stewart's Merlin Trilogy and Stephanie Meyers' Twilight Series... which while I'm intrigued with the storyline... wondering how Bella will resolve her interest in Jacob and Edward satisfactorily and whether or not she will ever become a vampire herself... the writing horrifies me. Someone reminded me she's writing for a teenage girl audience... to which I observe it's one thing to write for a teenaged girl and another to write like a teenaged girl. I guess what sickens me is the verbal fondling between the lovers. This is true in real life, isn't it? That when you are around lovers who are saying sticky sweet things to each other it provokes all kinds of vomiting urges... right? Bella answers the door and there stands her human dream! Yuck!
Also about to commence reading the oldest novel in the history of literature... The Tale of Genji by Lady Murasaki. I really hope it's good because it's about 1000 pages.
Tonight before work I will visit Chili Thai and enjoy their classic fried rice with tofu.
Tomorrow night is volleyball.
Thursday I'll be seeing a movie that some people walk out on because it's so tedious and some people continue to think about days later... and they are sometimes the same people... Melancholia.
Saturday I have my online draft for the fantasy basketball season. I'm a Knicks fan, but far far more than that I am a Miami Heat hater... my favorite team this year will be the team that knocks the Heat out of the playoffs.
Assembling material for my fourth open mic comedy routine... as yet unscheduled.
12 days til Christmas.
Life is quiet.. and calm... uneventful... but perfect.
But something else has emerged in my lifestyle as well... I call it my quiet time. I feel as though I have spent the past 29 years navigating a raging storm of disappointment in matters of the heart. And just recently it has subsided and I spend day after day not really thinking of anyone in particular but just happily keeping myself to myself.
This is one reason why I do not long for my youth as others seem to. I remember my youth and it was chaos.
Now I keep myself busy with things I enjoy.
Reading Mary Stewart's Merlin Trilogy and Stephanie Meyers' Twilight Series... which while I'm intrigued with the storyline... wondering how Bella will resolve her interest in Jacob and Edward satisfactorily and whether or not she will ever become a vampire herself... the writing horrifies me. Someone reminded me she's writing for a teenage girl audience... to which I observe it's one thing to write for a teenaged girl and another to write like a teenaged girl. I guess what sickens me is the verbal fondling between the lovers. This is true in real life, isn't it? That when you are around lovers who are saying sticky sweet things to each other it provokes all kinds of vomiting urges... right? Bella answers the door and there stands her human dream! Yuck!
Also about to commence reading the oldest novel in the history of literature... The Tale of Genji by Lady Murasaki. I really hope it's good because it's about 1000 pages.
Tonight before work I will visit Chili Thai and enjoy their classic fried rice with tofu.
Tomorrow night is volleyball.
Thursday I'll be seeing a movie that some people walk out on because it's so tedious and some people continue to think about days later... and they are sometimes the same people... Melancholia.
Saturday I have my online draft for the fantasy basketball season. I'm a Knicks fan, but far far more than that I am a Miami Heat hater... my favorite team this year will be the team that knocks the Heat out of the playoffs.
Assembling material for my fourth open mic comedy routine... as yet unscheduled.
12 days til Christmas.
Life is quiet.. and calm... uneventful... but perfect.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Accomplice to Serial Killing
When I moved into this apartment complex, I didn't know they were planning to make it a gated community. The nice thing about this arrangement is that when a serial killer gets the urge to kill some people they will drive right past and do their dirty work at the apartments down the street at the end of the block.
But every once in a while a serial killer will be determined not just to kill apartment residents, but more specifically to kill apartment residents who think they are safe... and here is how he will do it. He drives up to the gate and parks right next to the access panel. If he lived in this complex he would have in his car with him a drivers~license~sized card containing an electronic device which, when held up to the panel, will activate the gate and cause it to open. But because the serial killer is just a visitor he has no such card and simply parks his car there and waits. Eventually some actual resident will drive up behind the killer's automobile and wait patiently... assuming the killer is a resident who just needs a moment to find his access card. This would be annoying to the resident most likely... because if you live here.. you have to use that card every day and so wouldn't you, a rational person, be mindful not to misplace an item so integral to your return home? The actual resident will pretty quickly make a new assumption... perhaps the killer is not a resident but a visitor... perhaps he has just dialed a code and someone already home in their apartment is going to answer their phone and press the number 9 thereby activating the gate... but several more moments elapse... finally the actual resident realizes that whoever is supposed to be granting admittance to the killer must be in the shower or not even home. By this time four or five cars have lined up behind the killer's car... so many cars in fact that they are now lining up out on the street and backing up traffic for the folks that just want to drive on down to the end of the block and return to their easy to access but woefully dangerous ungated community just down the road.
Then the actual resident parked just behind the killer has to make a decision... he doesn't know who this killer is... what if he's a dangerous sort? What if he's obsessed with an ex~girlfriend and wants to smash in the windows on her car? What if he's a sick pervert who wants to urinate in the swimming pool? What if he's a poacher come to deprive the pond of its delicate swans?
But in the end... who cares? It's not like the actual resident can turn around or back up and go another way, is it? I mean by this time there is a continental drift of traffic jammed up in both directions behind him... so he does what he really knows he should have done three or for minutes earlier... he gets out of his car and walks up next to the killer's card and without any salutation whatsoever he reaches his card out in front of the access panel and the gate begins its arthritic opening sequence.
And everyone is happy... you know... except obviously the eventual victims... but that was bound to happen anyway sooner or later.
For the most part everyone loves living in a safe and protected environment.
Then one time last summer I had a friend come visit me from back east. We had a great time climbing mountains and taking pictures and singing and playing darts... it was the beginning of July when she left and it was then I realized that... what with all the tons of fun we'd been having... I had forgot to pay the rent... so I hurried into the office check in hand only to be told that after the 2nd of the month checks were not permitted but only a money order totaling the month's rent plus $50 for being late. I argued my case but the lady in charge was in full~militant~if~you~think~you~can~charm~me~because~I'm~a~woman~I~will~ castrate~you~with~an~automatic~pencil~sharpener~mode. So meekly I left the office bummed out about the damned inconvenience and fiscal penalty.
Next day I went to the bank and purchased the money order and returned to the office, but because now another day had expired they needed an additional $5. "I didn't know about this" I pleaded "or I would have taken care of it yesterday." But the lady in charge, whose name must have been Harold or Chester, was not to be assuaged. Finally I saw there was no compromise to be negotiated and I pulled out a five dollar bill to consummate the violation of myself, but the lady with her Herculean femininity was not interested. No, I had to return once more to the bank and procure yet another money order... this time in the amount of $5. No cash, no check, no gold bullion would suffice... a money order or an eviction... that was my choice.
Yes, I thought about moving out. Had nowhere to go, it's true, but surely living homeless on the street would be better than submitting to this power hungry lady who made Hulk Hogan look like a Barbie Doll.
But in the end I took my punishment as much like a man as I could while cowering and whimpering in her Paul Bunyanesque shadow.
The only revenge I exacted, I admit, was a bit immature. But that night from 10pm until 4am I stood by the access panel with my access card in front of the gate and admitted dozens and dozens of serial killers as soon as they drove up. They're a shy lot about their chosen professions, I learned. Not more than three in 20 will even admit to having ever murdered anyone.
But every once in a while a serial killer will be determined not just to kill apartment residents, but more specifically to kill apartment residents who think they are safe... and here is how he will do it. He drives up to the gate and parks right next to the access panel. If he lived in this complex he would have in his car with him a drivers~license~sized card containing an electronic device which, when held up to the panel, will activate the gate and cause it to open. But because the serial killer is just a visitor he has no such card and simply parks his car there and waits. Eventually some actual resident will drive up behind the killer's automobile and wait patiently... assuming the killer is a resident who just needs a moment to find his access card. This would be annoying to the resident most likely... because if you live here.. you have to use that card every day and so wouldn't you, a rational person, be mindful not to misplace an item so integral to your return home? The actual resident will pretty quickly make a new assumption... perhaps the killer is not a resident but a visitor... perhaps he has just dialed a code and someone already home in their apartment is going to answer their phone and press the number 9 thereby activating the gate... but several more moments elapse... finally the actual resident realizes that whoever is supposed to be granting admittance to the killer must be in the shower or not even home. By this time four or five cars have lined up behind the killer's car... so many cars in fact that they are now lining up out on the street and backing up traffic for the folks that just want to drive on down to the end of the block and return to their easy to access but woefully dangerous ungated community just down the road.
Then the actual resident parked just behind the killer has to make a decision... he doesn't know who this killer is... what if he's a dangerous sort? What if he's obsessed with an ex~girlfriend and wants to smash in the windows on her car? What if he's a sick pervert who wants to urinate in the swimming pool? What if he's a poacher come to deprive the pond of its delicate swans?
But in the end... who cares? It's not like the actual resident can turn around or back up and go another way, is it? I mean by this time there is a continental drift of traffic jammed up in both directions behind him... so he does what he really knows he should have done three or for minutes earlier... he gets out of his car and walks up next to the killer's card and without any salutation whatsoever he reaches his card out in front of the access panel and the gate begins its arthritic opening sequence.
And everyone is happy... you know... except obviously the eventual victims... but that was bound to happen anyway sooner or later.
For the most part everyone loves living in a safe and protected environment.
Then one time last summer I had a friend come visit me from back east. We had a great time climbing mountains and taking pictures and singing and playing darts... it was the beginning of July when she left and it was then I realized that... what with all the tons of fun we'd been having... I had forgot to pay the rent... so I hurried into the office check in hand only to be told that after the 2nd of the month checks were not permitted but only a money order totaling the month's rent plus $50 for being late. I argued my case but the lady in charge was in full~militant~if~you~think~you~can~charm~me~because~I'm~a~woman~I~will~ castrate~you~with~an~automatic~pencil~sharpener~mode. So meekly I left the office bummed out about the damned inconvenience and fiscal penalty.
Next day I went to the bank and purchased the money order and returned to the office, but because now another day had expired they needed an additional $5. "I didn't know about this" I pleaded "or I would have taken care of it yesterday." But the lady in charge, whose name must have been Harold or Chester, was not to be assuaged. Finally I saw there was no compromise to be negotiated and I pulled out a five dollar bill to consummate the violation of myself, but the lady with her Herculean femininity was not interested. No, I had to return once more to the bank and procure yet another money order... this time in the amount of $5. No cash, no check, no gold bullion would suffice... a money order or an eviction... that was my choice.
Yes, I thought about moving out. Had nowhere to go, it's true, but surely living homeless on the street would be better than submitting to this power hungry lady who made Hulk Hogan look like a Barbie Doll.
But in the end I took my punishment as much like a man as I could while cowering and whimpering in her Paul Bunyanesque shadow.
The only revenge I exacted, I admit, was a bit immature. But that night from 10pm until 4am I stood by the access panel with my access card in front of the gate and admitted dozens and dozens of serial killers as soon as they drove up. They're a shy lot about their chosen professions, I learned. Not more than three in 20 will even admit to having ever murdered anyone.
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