the tubes of me went wrong late last week, sickness spread like a jelly. i have become movie critic in three days and i know the mountain range of a bedspread. k nursing me has earned a trip to acapulco, no doubt i am a handful of crawling scratching infants come season o influenza, apologies now and forever for that. i am shocked at unhealth (you're not?) and i panic and make the face. such a thrill it is to be well and how quickly i will forget.
oh i owe work and letters to a few of you and beg a few more days as i just found my head knocking amongst some ankles, little damage but to attach it back to the body i had to call technicians to come over in their big ass car, it takes time.
but let me tell you of the movies.
finally, Passion of the Christo did i watch. was never told there would be demons and i liked that, why not, at least a break from the torture i could only take so much slo mo, in delirium i shed a tear but i was weak from a medicine, it was a face of a ms. magdelene which did it to me, forgotten now in the ensuing haze and other movies, some image pasta in me cooking with the fever, dreams sprouting soft cannons firing what nots into the mind, little thuds and ripples, this may have been years ago. i was not so bothered by the blood, a product i am of these times. the language however was fantastic. having studied latin i was enchanted with the sound of it and found myself grabbing for my Wheelock grammar book afterward.
Mystic River was next i had trouble with the ending, a friend suggested i might, i so often do. but this film i liked mucho with qualities of To Kill a Mockingbird, what crucial mistakes we make in the tidal emotions that lift us out of ourselves, such themes common now, no, this human condition remade. the gauranteed pain of love no rebate no protection , loss is loss is loss. we do such bad things to each other and we do not stop, the very very few of us able to restrain and think otherwise to deal with ache and trespass, of course this ties into passion of the christ of course it is every book written.
watched the rest of season 2 of Six Feet Under, k thinks it cute that i get into it so much which surprises me, after all i am a poet and i have cats so one could guess how utterly sensitive and absorbed i get in the touchy feelie dramas, i deny everything and request to speak to my lawyer, oh man pride...but really, what a series is six feet under i have faithfully waited for season 2 to make it out on dvd and now done with that i'll most likely wait another year for the release of season 3, or will i. p2p file sharing sounding awfully enticing, oh dear fisher family what what what will become of you?
i also watched the first couple epidsode of Oz, (can you tell yet how behind i am with the big titles, preffering usually plotless art films like my man Stan B, &c...) though I've seen several episodes throughout its run, the lighting i think bothers me a great deal, like that of star trek or something, meant for the stage, but it does its work, and with the wheelchaired narrator it is a play, and i like that possibility of cinema too, such a strategy you put upon my eyes, a series meant to teach. prison, shit. fuck that, no way, no how. and i mean i've been close i am sure to that route, in previous lives, what animals do emerge in cages, politically the message is clear, but what frightens worse is the potential that is inside each one of us to degrade. progess is en masse, individually we mostly falter, who am i talking about you want to know, for surely such great things come from individuals, and i think i am talking about the fish of us, the cattle. we depend on the rules. i raise my hand here because i cannot make science like i cannot make philosophy like i cannot make conversation with so called higher power. i go in, and i stay quite still, take my hand and drag me along.
also, a british agit prop film made in the late 40's detailing WWII episode by episode, i watched the episode regarding nazi germany's initial campaigns leading to blitzkrieg. the info is dumbed down, news reel style but what is striking is the orignal footage used, the maps that are animated to show battle lines and troop movement, and the enthusiam of the narrator. could have been chamberlain himself. who watching this footage in a similar style late 30's early 40's would not have tossed his filterless cigarette on the floor of the movie house and run to the local recruiter. they sure knew how to push the public buttons back then. now we are like, "uh huh, big deal, whoopie, i don't believe you" and we don't and why should we. the gov' is them and we are us and if you tell me We The People i'll show you a dirt lot of more worth. hope does remain in me though again that could be the medicine talking, and blog isn't where i want to talk about it as that would take some thinking through and here is a place i like to let my fingers move first and foremost. you don't believe me and you are right not to.
i know i am forgetting some movies. but my head has gone ballooning again, wave bye bye, the currents are strong.
more soon, or later. and the scanner'ss working again so more collages in the works, i hope. also brief reviews of chapbooks, i have a stack meant for this, and i want to share.
tar tar.
$8
