… ok, did you see that? The season three premiere of Code Black? It was amazing! I’ve been singing this show’s praises since it aired, and still when it almost got cancelled last year, and now they’re back and it’s amazing. Good writing is imperitive to entertaining and cohesive television… I’ve said it before. More on Code Black later.
I just want to say that I am beginning to lose my patience with this car thing. I hit the fucking deer on the 11th, the claim was filed on the 12th, the car was brought in for repairs on the 16th… it is now the 25th and all I’ve heard is that they’ve had to bring a claims adjuster back out to look at the vehicle multiple times.
The process is going very slowly – it will be at least two weeks (so until at least May 2nd) at the earliest until my car is ready. That was the last I heard anything – that was the 19th. We don’t have rental car coverage on our policy because – heh – when the hell are you ever going to need to rent a car for an extended period of time? That would just be stupid.
I wish I had done something so stupid right about now.
And thus, I wait.
I turn 35 on friday… without my car, it just makes me sad. It’s not like I had plans to go out and do anything, but it’s been a very long time since the last time I’ve felt remotely “whole” – and once again being confined to my property without the freewill to leave of my own and spontaneous volition does not help me feel cohesive.
On my 18th birthday, my car key broke off in my ignition right after I turned my car on in the driveway. Yes, the freaking key broke off – so I got to spend a large chunk of my 18th birthday waiting for AAA. In hindsight, it didn’t even put a damper on things and makes a damn funny anecdote but let’s face it, everything was awesome when I was 18 and it took a hell of a lot less to get me down – a lot of it seems so trivial now, funny even.
I can’t imagine that this will seem all that entertaining in retrospect. No freaking way.
Hello, hello! Welcome back – part 2, movies that are fucking awesome… let’s rock.
Perfect Sense (2011); Directed by David Mackenzie; Starring Ewan McGreggor and Eva Green. Everyone is losing their senses – literally. It’s kind of crazy to think about what the world would come to if the population slowly lost their ability to taste, smell, hear, speak, see, and feel…
Garden State (2004); Directed by Zach Braff; Starring Zach Braff, Peter Sarsgaard, and Natalie Portman. This is possibly one of the most pretentious movies ever made (second, of course, to Tree of Life – no film is as pretentious as that one, it’s freaking impossible), but damn does it capture a time in my life so perfectly, it hold up over time. I got really into this movie a few years after it came out – so I was about 22-23, and then I didn’t see it for more than a decade.
I really didn’t think it would hold up, I figured a modern viewing would result in my eyes rolling back in their head but I was wrong – it gets better with time. It doesn’t come off as being nearly as pretentious now because it’s so much more meaningful to me – and shit, college-aged kids are pretentious as hell. Let me tell ya. LOL, come on, disagree with me.
Cinema Paradiso (1988); Directed by Giuseppe Tornatore; Starring Philippe Noiret, Enzo Cannavale, Antonella Attili. First, I’d like to say that the original version of this movie is far superior to the director’s cut. Second, I want to point out that Giuseppe Tornatore is one of those directors that needs to be physically restrained from being allowed to alter their films – especially doing so decades after the fact, and altering the film to such an extreme degree that the ending changes completely. Tornatore also directed The Legend of Nineteen Hundred and then spit out a director’s cut that was an hour longer twenty years later, I haven’t seen his cut of thatmovie but now I’m terrified. The three-hour long director’s cut of Cinema Paradiso is a completely different movie with a different ending and a different tone throughout the entirety of it than the original cut that won a bunch of Oscars and is one of the most beloved films of all time. The point to all this? WATCH THE ORIGINAL, the director’s cut it AWFUL.
E.T. (1982): Directed by Stephen Spielberg; Starring Henry Thomas, Drew Barrymore, Peter Coyote. I don’t think I really need to say much about this one. If you haven’t seen it, you need to. Stay. I’ll be right here. Be good.
Fame (1980): Directed by Alan Parker; Starring Eddie Barth, Irene Cara, and Lee Curreri. Let me be specific, I am referring to the 1980 film, not the television series, not the remakes in the late 80s and 90s, not the remakes of the television series, not the various versions of the stage musical – the ORIGINAL MOVIE alright?
Her (2013): Directed by Spike Jonze; Starring Joaquin Phoenix, Amy Adams, and Scarlett Johansson. The first time I saw this movie, it made me really uncomfortable. Like… REALLY weirdly unsettled and uncomfortable. But it stuck in my head. Now I’ve seen it a bunch of times, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable anymore at all, I love it. This movie is absolutely beautiful once you get the past the ridiculous premise… heh, aren’t they all.
Lost in Translation (2003): Directed by Sofia Coppola; Starring Bill Murray, Scarlett Johansson, and Giovanni Ribisi. This is one that gets better with age, at least for me. The first time I saw it I didn’t get it, I was 20 years old and it just didn’t do anything for me. Now, I’m almost 35 and damn is it meaningful. And hilarious… freaking hilarious.
Secondhand Lions (2003); Directed by Tim McCanlies; Starring Haley Joel Osment, Michael Caine, and Robert Duvall. For some reason, this movie with an all-star cast flew under the radar of the general population when it was released. It’s random as hell, hilarious and captivating. Don’t we all just want to be planted in the cornfield next to the stupid lion?
Brokeback Mountain (2003); Directed by Ang Lee; Starring Jake Gyllenhaal, Heath Ledger, and Michelle Williams. This movie is wonderful, the cast is superb, the writing is brilliant, the cinematography is gorgeous – I LOVE THIS FUCKING MOVIE.
About Time (2013): Directed by Richard Curtis; Starring Domhnall Gleeson, Rachel McAdams, and Bill Nighy. Don’t worry, it’s not another accent fiasco like Anne Hathaway in One Day, she speaks in her regular American accent… so, you can breathe now. Seriously – this movie is amazing. I hate romantic comedies – this one is definitely what you would put in the romantic comedy genre – but it’s so much more. SO GOOD!
The Apostle (1997): Directed by Robert Duvall; Starring Robert Duvall, Todd Allen, and Paul Bagget. I don’t really know what to say about this one – you just have to see it. Seriously. You have to, there isn’t anything else like it. It’s not a preachy Christian movie (like Fireproof, or The War Room), it’s not even a Christian movie. Just watch it.
The Champ (1979): Directed by Franco Zeffirelli; Starring Jon Voight (but not his car), Faye Dunaway, and Ricky Schroder. Apparently this movie has scientifically been determined (how? I don’t know) to be the saddest movie ever. I don’t know about that, but Ricky Schroder is brilliant. I love this film, I love the sentimentality and drama, and apparently I love films about fighters. This movie is beautiful, totally worth seeing.
Cool Hand Luke (1967); Directed by Stuart Rosenberg; Starring Paul Newman, George Kennedy, and Strother Martin. Taking it off over here, ok boss?
A Ghost Story (2017); Directed by David Lowery; Starring Casey Affleck, Rooney Mara, and McColm Cephas Jr.. The first time I saw this, I was like, “what the fuck was that?” And the next few times I saw it, I still thought the same thing – in fact, I really actively tried to hate it – but it grew on me. Now, I’ll admit, I love it and have seen it more times than I can count. What kept me coming back was the visual appeal – it’s shot in a nearly square aspect ratio, so the framing is really interesting. The color treatment is really interesting, too. Approximately 1/16 of this movie is Rooney Mara eating a pie. Did you know that Kesha is in this movie? The whole thing is very… interesting. I don’t think I could ever handle being in a relationship with Rooney Mara – just something I’ve become aware of from every single thing she’s ever done. She’s intense, man. Anyhow, I highly recommend checking out David Lowery’s existential crisis.
Into the Wild (2007); Directed by Sean Penn; Starring Emile Hirsch, Vince Vaughn, and Catherine Keener (and everyone else in the freaking world who has ever done a movie in the 90s – ok, maybe not everyone, but a lot of people). When I first saw this I was amazed by the fact that I could want to smack the main character in the face for the majority of the movie but I was still rooting for him. He brings new meaning to the word “pretentious,” but the film itself is not that at all. This film is a gem – the writing is intense, the use of narration is ridiculously effective, the cinematography is freaking epic, the soundtrack is excellent – this is just a good freaking movie, every aspect of it is well done, it’s moving, it’s engaging… it’s awesome.
Passengers (2016); Directed by Morten Tyldum; Starring Jennifer Lawrence, Chris Pratt, Michael Sheen, and Forest Whitaker. I love this movie and I’m prepared to defend it against the general opinion of the masses. Hell of a film, dammit! Still wondering how he got that tree to actually grow…
This concludes my first random movie list. There will be many, many, many more of these. Groovy.*
Originally this post was supposed to be about my top ten all time favorite movies, then it became top 25 favorites, then at 30 I realized I wasn’t going to be able to rank and list my absolute favorite movies definitively (we’d be here for a ridiculously long time), thus I arrived at a list of thirty-three (because thirty just didn’t seem right, 31 didn’t look right, and 32 is an even number… yes, I am weird, I know) films that I absolutely love. This list is not exclusive, this list is in no particular order.
I guess I should preface this by saying that I have a very weird eclectic taste in movies, and I generally tend to disagree with how these films are received, rated and reviewed SO this list (and all the lists to come) may surprise you a bit. Feel free to chime in!
Warrior (2011); directed by Gavin O’Conner; Starring Tom Hardy, Joel Edgerton, and Nick Nolte. I was sucked into this one within the first 3 minutes. And I defy anyone to make it through the last scene without shedding a few tears.
Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012); directed by Benh Zeitlin; Starring Quvenzhané Wallis, Dwight Henry, and Levy Easterly. Moving is a vast understatement when it comes to describing this film – it’s so absurd and cohesive, which is freaking beautiful.
Meet Joe Black (1998); Directed by Martin Brest; Starring Brad Pitt, Anthony Hopkins, Claire Forlani, Marcia Gay Harden, Jeffrey Tambor and Jake Weber. Yes, it’s criminally long, it’s unapologetically romantic and seemingly moves in real time but God, I fucking love it. I love it so much that I based my actual wedding reception on the party scene at the end. And this movie makes me cry more than any other movie in the world – I mean, like… bawling uncontrollably. And yeah, ok, it doesn’t take a whole lot to make me cry but this is kind of ridiculous. Ahh, so good.
Lullaby (2014); Directed by Andrew Levitas; Starring Garrett Hedlund, Richard Jenkins, Anne Archer, Jessica Brown Findlay, Amy Adams, Jessica Barden, Terrence Howard and Jennifer Hudson (hell of a cast, right?!) – this is the best movie that you’ve never seen, with an ensemble of the most famous people in the freaking
Two Lovers & A Bear (2016); Directed by Kim Nguyen; Starring Dane DeHaan, Tatiana Maslany, and Gordon Pinsent (as the Bear). This is the best movie ever, go Canada. I may have a slightly unhealthy obsession with this movie.
Titanic (1997); Directed by James Cameron; Starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Kate Winslet, Billy Zane and a million other people. I love it, I’m not ashamed. I was 14 when this came out, it was a lifestyle. Seriously though, this movie is really good. It holds up over time, I watched it last year for the first time in easily a decade and it still works.
(And, if anyone who went on Mr McNulty and Ms AbouHana’s New York trip in 1998 and were among the people who gave me all that shit about spending $40 on a movie poster happens to be reading this, I would just like to say that a) $40 isn’t that much money, especially for a 2’x3′ poster, from a ridiculously popular film; b) that was twenty years ago and the poster still looks absolutely beautiful – probably largely due to the quality of paper and ink used – it’s framed and part of my decor; c) I stand by it. I’ve had something that I love for over twenty years now, and it only cost me $40. I win, bitches! Sorry, don’t mind me… a little residual private school bitterness, apparently it takes a very long time to wear off entirely… wow. Moving on…)
Marley & Me (2008); Directed by David Frankel; Starring Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston. I should be ashamed, but I’m not – this movie is amazing. And I must say, this movie is a hell of a lot more meaningful than you’d think it would be – beyond the realm of the man/dog thing. It’s weirdly relevant. I think it’s Jennifer Anniston’s best work, and I genuinely mean that.
Million Dollar Baby (2004); Directed by Clint Eastwood; Starring Hilary Swank, Clint Eastwood, and Morgan Freeman. And now we all know how they get the ice into water bottles.
The Family Man (2000); Directed by Brett Ratner; Starring Nicolas Cage, Téa Leoni, and Don Cheadle. Hell of a glimpse, hell of a film.
Interstellar (2014); Directed by Christopher Nolan; Starring Matthew McConaughey, Jessica Chastain, Anne Hathaway, Ellen Burstyn, Mackenzie Foy, Wes Bentley, Michael Caine, David Gyosi, John Lithgow, Matt Damon, and Casey Affleck. Yeah, now there’s a cast for ya. This movie is 2 hours and 40-something minutes of WOW.
Inception (2010); Directed by Christopher Nolan; Starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ellen Page, Tom Hardy, Ken Watanabe, Cillian Murphy, Tom Berenger, Marion Cotillard, Pete Poslehwaite and Michael Caine. Once again, 2 hours and 40-something minutes of WOW… but a different WOW that’s almost the same.
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (2011); Directed by David Fincher; Starring Daniel Craig, Rooney Mara, Christopher Plummer and Stellan Skarsgård. This movie is absolutely beautiful, terrifying and moving as hell. I heart it muchly. Yes.
A Monster Calls (2016); Directed by J.A. Bayona; Starring Lewis MacDougall, Sigourney Weaver, Felicity Jones and Liam Neeson. The first time I saw this movie I hated it. I guess I was not in the right place at the right time, it made me actively angry. About six months later I saw it again and fell in love with it.
Fargo (1996); Directed by Joel Coen; Starring William H. Macy, Steve Buscemi, Peter Stormare, Kristin Rudrüd, Harve Presnell, Frances McDormand and John Carroll Lynch. How could anyone make a list of favorite movies and not include Fargo? It just wouldn’t be right.
The Siege (1998); Directed by Edward Zwick; Starring Denzel Washington, Bruce Willis, and Annette Bening. I can’t quite put my finger on why I love this one so much, but regardless of my personal reasons, it’s just a terrific film.
Dunkirk (2017); Directed by Christopher Nolan (sensing a theme here? lol); Starring Fionn Whitehead, Damien Bonnard, Aneurin Barnard, Barry Keoghan, Mark Rylance, Tom Glynn-Carney, Tom Hardy, Jack Lowden, Cillian Murphy, Kenneth Branagh, and Harry Styles. In my opinion, this is Christopher Nolan’s masterpiece – this film is incredible. Time dilation, war drama, brilliant cinematography… yes.
Gravity (2014); Directed by Alfonso Cuarón; Starring George Clooney, Sandra Bullock and Ed Harris. Yes, that’s right, Ed Harris is in this film. Epic.
Alrighty, that concludes part 1… stay tuned for part 2 of 33 Films that are just fucking fantastic. Part 2 is just as random as part 1. I’m excited.
You should be, too.*
Today I hit a deer. This is the second one this year, exactly 100 days after the first one. It was on the first of the year. So, to reiterate, January 1st of 2018 I hit a deer and then, 100 days later, I hit another one. That’s fucking crazy, right? I think it’s completely insane… I’m thoroughly freaked out at the moment. I am also a bit nervous about what might happen 100 days from now, or when I might hit deer #3 because everyone knows these things happen in threes… meep! I’m a very, very careful driver. I don’t text and drive, I don’t drive intoxicated, I don’t have a speeding problem, I am pragmatic about traffic laws… why have I become a magnet for large and destructive roadkill?
The first time I was lucky and was only left with a few tufts of fur sticking out of the rim of my back left tire. This time, well… thank God for crumple zones. I’ve got a cracked grill, smashed headlight encasement, cracked bumper, fog lights and vents busted out, broken fender… but oddly enough, no broken glass or engine damage. I also walked away from both crashes without as much as a scratch – I suppose I have been very lucky… although, if you ask me, lucky would have been not hitting the deer in the first place.
They say, “three is a charm.” They also say “karma comes back at you three-fold.” Cerberus has three heads. You can survive for 3 days without water but only 3 minutes without breathable air. There can be only 3. What do these things have to do with each other or deer? Nothing, nothing at all. The chances of a third occurrence are not heightened or reduced by the initial occurrences. I know this… doesn’t make me feel any better.
Something’s gotta give.
In this constant shuffle, chaos is imminent. The silence is precious and petrified, peace becomes noise and panic that never settles. In this perpetual derangement the kinetic confusion is punishing, it assaults my sense of center and grates at my ears, nerves and conscious. I can’t think, my brain is in this eyeless storm, churning around itself as it washes over the shores of my isolated stretches of sanity.
There will be no quiet tonight. There is only a break in the humming for mumbling, mumbling turns to rumbling before it ramps back up to stuttering, as the immutable medley claims another chorus. And continues to shuffle. Constantly. All around me. All of the fucking time.
Abiding ataxia. Shuffling constantly.
I used to tread upon a series of endless grooves and vibrations that flowed into the high and the low seamlessly, meaningfully. Vibrant vitality shining through every bounce and step and stare. And sigh. Every tear drop met matter with a celebratory splash, glorious ripples and waves undulated within the ebb and flow, and push and pull of every second that has light and life. I stumbled into my rhythm, it was electric, and terrifying and absolutely fantastic. The roads were open and endless, the journeys erratic and unscripted, somehow all the while guiding me to exactly where I needed to be, regardless of where I was trying to go.
But that was before the shuffle.
The interminable jumble.
The constant shuffle. The ceaseless and careless tripping and kicking, the falling and crawling. The interminable jumble. The deafening screaming of the aimless calamities that bend and rustle. Rhythmic debris smashed to pieces, jagged edges strewn about the remnant rummage. Scattered haphazardly, shifting, and never settling.
The constant shuffle.*
Small, green, hot, stuffy, dusty, primitive, gross. For eleven years this little seemingly ancient shack, apparently a beach house, had been our home away from home when we went to Bethany Beach every summer.
This hut did not have air conditioning, electricity or indoor showers. My mother and I hated it, and the only reason we stayed there every summer for so long was because my mother’s sister, my Aunt Bonnie, loved it and we were afraid to tell her how we actually felt about it. So year after year we stayed in the shack, embarrassed to have people over, afraid that anyone who saw us coming out or going into it would think we were paupers – but still, it was just a house and we had a great time with our family in this house year after year. Still, however, we hated that little hut!
Finally, one spring day my mother got off the phone with a big grin on her face and told us that this summer when we went to the beach we would be staying in a different house, a modernized house, on the same street as the little green shack.
“At last,” I thought, “time for a modern beach week!”
When August rolled around we made the three hour drive to Bethany Beach, this time bringing friends along with us, knowing that any house would be better than the shack. Of course, the new house was a beautiful, contemporary house that we all adored. So thrilled, we threw our bathing suits on and raced down to the shore, and had a great day on the beach.
That night as I was walking back to our new beach house, I passed the shack that we had stayed in during the summer for so many years. I saw a family of four sitting on the dilapidated screened-in front porch with a citronella candle in the middle of their circle. They were laughing, smiling and joyous. It was then that I realized that the shack was not the thing that had been putting a damper on our otherwise exciting beach trips. It was me and my pride, ashamed of the surroundings without taking advantage of the simple gift that the bare house provided – simple, uninterrupted quality time with my family. I had been unable to feel pride in who I was instead of what we had until it was too late. But the new family was having so much fun I could hear them laughing down the street from the new house. They had the attitude that we should have had… but it was too late.
We only came to Bethany Beach as a family one more year after that, once again staying in the new beach house. That final year it just wasn’t the same. Sure, the beach was great, the shopping was tax-free (good ol’ Delaware), and endless mini-golf kept us entertained for hours – but our family didn’t have the same synergy that we had when we only had each other, our stories, and the time to do nothing together.
Ten years later later I came back to our old street at Bethany Beach after my parents had bought a house that was across the street from the beach, on the Bay side. I went to go look at that green shack, just to see if it was still there, and of course, it was gone. In its place was a 3 million dollar brand new beach house, three stories, four car garage, balconies and wrap-around screened-in porches on each floor. Unfortunately, the rest of the neighborhood was still mostly cottages and simple houses so this new mansion on Delaware St. stuck out like a sore thumb and kind of ruined the simple, quaint appeal of the area.
For the first time ever, I wished that the little green shack was still there. That was what the beach had been to us for years, and now it was gone forever.Of course, we’ll make new memories in our beautiful new house, but nothing can quite replace all the summers in the shack with the whole family. Of course, as time moves on people, places and things change with it, but memories stay forever. We have some great memories, we had some great times, but we took what we had for granted.
Now, I can’t even find a picture of that little green shack…
Sentimentality is certainly a strange and invasive beast. It attacks your functionality, it’s a storm you don’t even see coming for you until you’re caught up in the woes of something random and totally unexpected. I’m not an overly sentimental person – I have enough trouble keeping my house sufficiently decluttered to hang onto large chunks of the past that take up space in my home and my heart. I have trouble with sentiment – it comes from places that are very warm and very happy, but for some reason, they hurt like hell. Avoiding any and all things and situations that had the potential to stir up any sort of emotion became impossible after the birth of our second child (I held out pretty hardcore after the first one though), so in the process of trying to incorporate normal emotions into my life experience, sentiment has become a bit of a double edged sword. Yes, I enjoy genuinely experiencing my life with the entirety of myself but the emotions are super intense, and insanely random.
The first time I really noticed an overwhelming wave of sentimentality was about a year ago. I had done some very thorough spring cleaning and was in the process of finally actually getting rid of all of the random crap that had piled up between baby #1 and baby #2. On another note real quick – it amazes me how quickly and arbitrarily baby equipment goes from being perfectly safe and great to use to being an APA certified death trap. There were only 3 years between the kids, but somehow all of our stuff that we could have potentially used for the second child “expired” or something idiotic happened to someone somewhere for doing something stupid with said product causing a wave of litigation, warning labels and recalls… heh, nothing lasts forever, and that’s a guarantee! But anyhow, back to spring cleaning – the point was I had a lot of large baby equipment that I was throwing away due to the fact that it couldn’t be reused or donated. Finally, I rounded up all of the random obtrusive useless pieces of crap that had been cluttering up our house for months… or even years. I was fine. I put everything in a trash can and put it out next to the curb for trash pickup the next morning. I was still fine.The next morning I happened to be standing in the living room, looking out at the still full trashcan sitting on the curb – the trash hadn’t been collected yet, despite the fact that it was almost noon. I saw the tip of my daughter’s turtle baby bathtub – something that she hadn’t been able to even fit in for at least two years, and we had stopped using it when she was only 8 months old. At that point, she was almost 4 – needless to say, the baby bathtub needed to go. As I noticed that I could see the turtle sticking up out of the trashcan, the garbage collection truck started rolling down the street. I watched the men pick up the trashcan, dump the baby bathtub into the giant container of rubbish with everyone’s leftover dinners, baby diapers, and every disgusting thing that we toss on a daily basis and I started to panic.I suddenly felt like I was throwing away a part of my daughter’s past, and all of the memories of the early bath times when we discovered that she was indeed a water baby. I started sobbing uncontrollably, it took me a good half hour to get a hold of myself. After that I was absolutely fine, I still cannot really explain what that was other than a weird wave of unsolicited sentimentality that hit me like a freight train. I know you usually see and hear those coming, but apparently I was not paying attention.
The only other time I felt a sudden panic over getting rid of something was the other day when we got a new bed. Our bed was the first thing that my husband and I bought together (and we actually bought it about a year and some before he became my husband, so 13 years later it has some history. And as with everything that has history, some of it is weird and wonderful, some of it is random and maybe kind of gross, and some of it is really sad and painful – but it almost tells our story.
Like I said, it was the first big thing that we bought as a couple. It was the only thing that fit in our bedroom when we got it home into our tiny apartment in Tampa, FL. When we moved to Maryland, once again, it was pretty much the only thing that fit in our bedroom – which had, due to a clerical error (I’m assuming), been painted red instead of wheat (“salsa” instead of “sissal” – I can see how it happened, but damn it messed us up).
The next year when we were no longer living in the apartment with the red bedroom, my husband fell asleep with a chocolate ice-cream bar (don’t ask how… he just did) and the stain that it left became a topic of conversation for years every single time we changed the sheets. It was the first piece of furniture we brought into our new house when we bought it in the winter of 2011. We conceived our first child in that bed. I fell into a deep depression after that child was born and lived in that bed for almost an entire year. Our second baby was conceived in that bed. Ironically, making the bed every day was one of the only things that I was capable of doing by the end of that second pregnancy, and doing so kept me as sane as was possible. I really had absolutely no idea how accurately a mattress could make my life flash before my eyes, but once again, I started to panic as it was being hauled out of our bedroom.
Apparently I’m not quite over it, because writing this is starting to make my eyes tear up, and once again – I am not quite sure why. A significant portion of those memories take me to places that honestly I’d like to try to avoid, and because the memories are somewhat traumatic and scarring, they will be vivid and detailed and freaking eternal (my memory has a mind of its own, I swear… how scary is that possibility?) – I won’t lose them. The bed hasn’t been genuinely comfortable for a very long time now, it actually has been responsible for more pain than comfort for at least a year. It was time to move on, and we got a new bed that is amazing – like, leaps and bounds beyond where we were before, it is SO MUCH BETTER. But damn… weird sentiment hurts. I guess even when you’re ready to move on, life lingers a bit longer than you’d like.
I guess even when you’re ready to move on, life lingers a bit longer than you’d like.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed that the shades of my past that hang around now are often pieces of it that seemed so insignificant at the time. The fact that they haunt me now is unsettling, perhaps I’m supposed to pay more attention to the little precious moments in my life. Perhaps I’m supposed to breathe a bit more often and be a little bit more patient, then I’ll have more of the moments that suddenly seem desperately few and far between when their effigies are no longer present. Maybe I’m supposed to allow myself to feel the emotions that I tend to push back when I’m supposed to experience them, so I don’t dwell on how emotionally dishonest I feel like I’m being to myself later. Or maybe it doesn’t mean a damn thing, and people are just sentimental – admitting to myself that I am among that population is not something I do easily. But, alas, here I am.
Breathe it in, girl, you are human and that is okay. Or so they say. I’m still not sure. I could do without the random incessant bursts of crippling emotional agony. But there is something to be said for pain – it makes you feel alive.
… what the hell was I doing at the bar inside of a VFW in Racine, Wisconsin? Stay tuned, that was definitely an epic shoot.
The Silver Dog
… yeah, the aforementioned “inspiration” that The Köln Concert by Keith Jarrett was responsible for. I thought that it might be fun to hear some of that now. Ok… here we go.
This was recorded about 15 years ago (ouch) – it’s nothing fancy or even finished, but it’s a good reminder of what my life was like when I was attempting to do the whole music career thing. Aww, fun times… couldn’t last forever, no one would have ever survived.
As I may or may not have mentioned, I am a piano player. I went to Berklee in Boston, I got really scarily into the jazz thing, and a shifty sketchy time was had by all. But in the process of shiftily sketching my way through a weird catalog of music that was starting to have an intense and somewhat sinister effect on my life, I was fortunate enough to stumble upon a few things that I definitely needed to hear.
One of those things is The Köln Concert by Keith Jarrett – 1975. I was taking a class at Berklee called Contemporary Improvisation, the teacher of that class (who was also my private lesson instructor for piano) told me to sit down and listen to the whole thing in its entirety. I don’t really have an attention span that works that way, that is unless what I’m listening to is absolutely and positively entrancing, hypnotizing and moving as hell… so when I tell you this concert was all of those things, I think I’m putting it a bit lightly. The first 30 seconds were like a friend that I knew very well, for a very long time, was speaking to me. I had never actually heard it before, but somehow it was already inside of my heart… I know that may possibly be the cheesiest thing that i have ever said with the intention to be taken seriously, but I really cannot think of any other way to put it because that’s exactly what the experience felt like. Despite the fact that this recording was eight years prior to my birth, this was for me. Shit, it has to be mine – it owns me in a weird way that no other band or song or musician has before. I can’t really explain the rationality behind this thought, but having this piece as a part of my life and as something that I use for inspiration a lot when I play, makes me a better person on a level higher than just music. It very well may have actually saved my life at one point in time, sometimes I still feel like it does that (in a much less literal way). I need it. Some music you know, some you love, and some you live… and cannot live without.
I recently went on a similar tirade about the importance of accurate captioning and how it’s half of the movie experience for people who depend on them so more care and artistry should be put into them. But I’m not deaf so my opinion doesn’t matter, ok fine, get it. I use captions to follow dialogue while there’s child-induced insanity clogging my ears – not the same urgency – but I still feel very strongly about this kind of thing. So hey, check this out, someone with a relevant opinion!
The tide gets too high. They do this every Spring. They cross the river to get to the other side, and one leads. The second one follows the first one. The third one follows that second one. Sometimes there’s thousands of them. And if the first one loses ground, then it’s over. The second one becomes the leader and he loses ground. And the third one follows him and loses ground. And it keeps going like that until they all drown.
That’s fucked up.
Two Lovers & A Bear