Wednesday, September 30, 2009

The dreamer, the unwoken fool.

High on a hill in El Dorado.

A year past, you ain't heard much of sound.

Now you hear everywhere.

My father said to me, "But you can't swim."

And I've never dreamed of the sea again.

With credibility,

comparison.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

It won't be complicated.

It won't be interesting either.

A man can't

just sit around.

Monday, September 28, 2009

We don't make art.

We use it up.

But he didn't.

So he died.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

I love my dead gay son.

Cherry Blossoms - Hanami - 6/10. One hundred and twenty-seven minutes. A husband 'looking' for his dead wife in the afterlife isn't an uninteresting idea, and yet.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

If wishes were fishes,

the seas would be empty.

There's so much involved

in just maintaining.

What is our aversion

to doing what we want to do.

The myth of America.

Weighed down by too many dreams.

If you can't explain it simply,

you don't understand it well enough.

I cannot make you see the color red.

I can only make you want to see it.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

We're just as happy.

That's why we're unhappy.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Well.

I won't do that.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Young blood!

If given the chance, spit fire!

Sunday, September 13, 2009

It's not a matter of understanding.

If you feel it, you feel it.

Friday, September 11, 2009

If I should fall from grace with god,

then fuck him anyway.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

A horrific news item

retold by small children.

We lie.

We tell you things.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

The struggle itself

is enough to fill a man's heart.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Crepitation.

To make a crackling sound.

Love

is why you're starving.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Creative

morality.

The deep is in riot.

The coastline is quiet.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

The earth's gravitational pull

ain't got shit on us.

A few deities praying for me.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly - 7.5/10. Herein, I compare 'The Diving Bell and the Butterfly' to 'District 9.' While 'District 9,' through its two hours, essentially keeps you at arms length from its star, Sharlton Copley, whether through documentary footage that treats him as though he's dead, or being held captive, or running, or in an unreal situation, or in fucking battle armor, its pacing guides you, letting him slip further and further away from the initial impression of him, piece by piece, until you're right there beside him. 'Diving Bell,' in contrast, literally has you inside of the character for three-quarters of the movie, but never lets you know him. That is its flaw.