Merry Christmas.

"There are two kinds of Christmas people, those who like their Christmas lights to stay on solid and those who like them to blink. As a kid, I always had a thing for sitting in the dark and watching the lights blink on and off at random. In the end, what we have are these little, great moments. They come and they go. That's as good as it gets. But, still, isn't that great?"

It's back.

I just read an article by new york times film critic a.o. scott. He's writing about the criteria one has to make and observe in order to successfully gauge the pick of family films this season. He mentions the reaction his 9 year old son had this past summer...

"After I took my 9-year-old and a friend of his to "Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith" last spring, for example, they kept coming back to the awful final battle, in which Anakin Skywalker's limbs are severed and his face horribly burned. This was a more intimate kind of violence than they were used to encountering, and they needed to make sense of its place in the movie's narrative. They were disturbed as well as fascinated, and what fascinated me was how seriously they took the scene, which is a grisly confirmation of Anakin's transformation into Darth Vader and a punishment for his allegiance to the dark side. In some ways I wish that George Lucas and I had spared them such a gruesome spectacle, but at the same time their reaction to it confirmed the integrity of Mr. Lucas's story."

Damn right, and that's why it's still the best of the series.

'Splosions

I'm on a record pace here, two blog entries in one day.

Real exciting...

Anyway, just got back from the Explosions in the Sky show at the bowery ballroom. One of the best flat out rock shows I've ever seen, it was a short set yet but it was so focused and executed to perfection it's hard to complain about the length. These four guys from Texas don't so much play their instruments as beat them into submission. You get the sense that they own every single guitar string, every inch of the crash cymbal, and every thrash they indulge us with. This music is not created, it is channeled through these four guys and flows through them like electricity. It's this intangible thing that you know is amazing but you can't get a hold on it. It's what I was talking about last week with the images in Malick's Thin Red Line, it's so much about the environment and the place of that exact time and moment. This music isn't about steadfast answers, or knowing every single goddamn thing on the planet. It's about asking the questions, the yearning of that journey. It's about staring up into the sky to see a cloud unfurl, or a star stand alone. It's bliss. So please, if you can listen to some of their music, please do. I think they are one of the best bands on the planet and this show tonight was the reason people go to rock shows. To be reminded that some of the most beautiful music on the planet can come from a place like four guys banging away on their instruments, I think I might just be inspired.

The Only Moment We Were Alone was my First Breath After Coma then With Tired Eyes, Tired Minds, Tired Souls, We Slept. I awoke and I took Your Hand In Mine to Greet Death, I asked it Have You Passed Through This Night? It said I have a A Poor Man's Memory but it appears that The Moon Is Down. I thought that was an An Ugly Fact Of Life and that these were Our Last Days As Children I looked up at The Sky Above, The Field Below and I thought Inside It All Feels The Same. You said Remember Me As A Time Of Day and we had A Slow Dance on this Lonely Train.

so long, so long...

I know in the past I've avoided "personal" issues in this blog. Although the stuff I've revealed about my unhealthy relationship with star wars is enough fodder for embarrassment.

Things have changed with me recently, I didn't want them to but they did. And there's nothing I can do about it. I'm sorry this sounds really cryptic and vague, I guess behind all of this I'm just not comfortable talking about these kinds of issues on an internet blog. I'm not here to piss and moan. I'm sure lots of eyeballs will roll when this post. I do admit i'm being whiney, self-indulgent and just flat out mopey. I don't mean to be, but it's hard to avoid, and everything is sort of fresh. Which then raises the question of why not give it some time and maybe I can sift through the immediate malaise and write something more thoughtful. My answer to that is, if I wait too long, I won't write about it at all. I want to get this down, because it just feels like the right thing to do and it feels good (at least I hope it will).

This is really lame I know (remember the whiney self indulgent defense I gave earlier) But I've been listening to this song a lot and rather than attempt to sort through all of these emotions and splatter them onto this blog, I'll let it speak for me. This has proved far more difficult than I previously expected it to be. I'm not ignoring these emotions, I just can't organize them in any rational way. That's the great thing about songwriters, poets, and all writers in general: they have the ability to speak to and for you. A great song can be personal and universal all at the same time, so I don't feel like this is a cop out.

Anyway, I don't mean to be a bummer. I'm going to try and continue to write about all kinds of things here at bi-mon-sci-fi-con. I'm going to see one of the greatest bands in the world tonight. I'll let you all know about this amazing show later on, although I think nate will do a better job than me. He'll definitely take better pictures, see you guys later...

so long, so long

Hand out the window
Floatin’ on air
Just a flip of the wrist
I’d be wavin’ you goodbye

Drive past the lifeguard stand
Where I sit around waiting for you to remember
Well past the beach hotels
Where the girls are getting’ bronzed on their monogrammed towels

I drive this ocean road
And remember

How the girls could turn to ghosts before your eyes
And the very dreams that led to them are keeping them from dying
And how the grace with which she walked into your life
And stay with you in your steps , pace with you a while
For so long, so long
so long so long

The speaker in this door is blown
So nothing sounds quite right
And I drive this ocean road
And I remember
The small of your back
And the nape of your neck
And the soft way you’d hold me in the night

I remember

How the girls can turn to ghosts before your eyes
And the very dreams that led to them are keeping them from dying
And how the grace with which she walked into your life
Will stay you in your steps, and pace with you a while
So long, so long,

so long, so long

And I will leave under the cover
Of summer’s kiss upon the sky
Like the stone face of your lover
Just before she says goodbye
I was thinkin' that the season could be held between my arms
But just as summer’s hold is fleeting
I was here but now I’m gone
I’m gone

I'm gone, I'm gone

say nothing...

The people have spoken
I understand their complaints
I will keep this one short and sweet
For I have nothing more to say...

I came to a horrible realization tonight that my dreams for an epic teen romance to end all teen romance movies have been dashed. say anything... was made 16 years ago and it accomplished everything that could be accomplished with the teen romance genre. Where will I turn? Maybe my unfinished wesley snipes script, or maybe a sitcom about a sassy robot.

Only time will tell...

Seems like a long, long time
Since I've been above you seen and loved you so
You pick a place that's where I'll be
Time like your cheek has turned for me

Can you still do good with it?

I know, this is going to sound all humanitarian and preachy and what not, but this story really got to me when I first read about it. And I got an email claiming there was something I could do, so instead of clogging all of your email boxes with this message, I will instead post it up here and allow you all to do with it what you may. Just one of the many horrible things going on in Iraq right now, and maybe we can do something about this one...


To those who are holding the Christian Peacemakers Team in Iraq, and to people everywhere of all Traditions of Faith and Peace:

We who write you affirm what all the traditions teach that trace their spiritual origin to Abraham: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all teach explicitly that to kill even one human being - even more strongly one who is doing no harm, most especially one who is seeking peace and nurturing human bodies and communities -- is to destroy a world. All other religious traditions agree about the holiness of human lives.

This teaching applies to all innocent Iraqis and foreigners who have been killed or taken away in Iraq out of anger against the US occupation - and it applies with special clarity and strength to the members of the Christian Peacemakers Team who are being held in Iraq. Like us, they too opposed the US attack. They came to serve the Iraqi people. They came not only to urge peace but also to live peace.

We who have opposed the US invasion and occupation of Iraq call on all who live in Iraq to seek the release of these people into safety and freedom. And we call on all people of good will everywhere to join in this call.

No doubt, those who planned and executed the US invasion and occupation of Iraq will cite this action as evidence for the rightness of their action. We utterly reject this logic, and affirm that the war undertaken by the US has multiplied the violence it pretended to oppose.

We hold morally responsible for the lives of these Christian Peacemakers both those in Iraq who have taken them, and those who have brought about the deaths of thousands of Iraqis and Americans by pursuing this war.

Once again, we call for a swift end to the US occupation of Iraq and for peaceful action by the entire human community to assist Iraqis to achieve their own self-government. And we send our loving prayers to those who have become victims of their own loving commitment to peace, justice, and healing.

(Signed by the initial emergency list of signatories below)

Dr Sayeed Sayyid, Secretary General, Islamic Society of North America;
Sheila Musaji, editor of The American Muslim;
Abdul Malik Mujahid, chair of the Council of Islamic Organizations of Greater Chicago; that Council as a body;
Anwar N. Haddam, elected Member of Parliament of Algeria (Dec 1991), chairman, board of trustees, Education for Life, Northern Virginia, and member, executive committee, Coordinating Council of Muslim Organizations of Greater Washington Area (CCMO);
Imad-ad-Dean Ahmad of Bethesda, MD; Muhammad Ali-Salaam of Boston; Abdul Cader Asmal, MD, PhD;
Rev. Robert Edgar, general secretary of the National Council of Churches;
Rev. Osagefyo Sekou, Director of Clergy and Laity Concerned about Iraq;
Rev. Peter Laarman of Progressive Christians Uniting in California;
Rabbi Arthur Waskow, Rabbinic Director of The Shalom Center.

Click here to sign the online petition.

"When the power of love becomes stronger than the love of power, we will have peace."

If I never meet you in this life, let me feel the lack...

I guess I've kind of given up on this blog in the past couple months or so. I don't know why but for some reason, I get the inspiration to write about something, and then as soon as the physical action of the thing starts up, all my energy gets sapped. It's the damndest thing, I think what I've come to realize is that I need to write as soon as my mind conjures up a thought. That way, I could write like a billion blog entires a day ( I wish, most of the time I'm just doodling or mentally un-dressing the female parishioners...Homer said it). The point being, I found something to write about, and I'm going to do it, that's the way it's gotta be and that's the way I gotta do it.

The Thin Red Line is the most gorgeous movie ever made, it's definitely one of the top ten films of the 90's and maybe even the last half century. It has an absorbency unlike any other movie ever made, on no matter what size screen you watch it, you become enveloped by the images. The jungle swallows you up, and your fate is the same as the soldiers. It's the kind of film you know that if you had half the talent, visual bravado, and confidence as these people do, you still wouldn't be able to come up with a tenth of their achievement, although you still really want to try.

So much has already been written about this film, it feels somewhat futile to try and add anything new. I think it's a shame it was overlooked the way it was back during it's initial release, sure it was overshadowed by Saving Private Ryan ( a film I refuse to bash because it is brilliant in it's own way). But I think even without the burden of Ryan, Line still would have been forgotten because it's a war film where soldiers wander into war rather than fight it. It's a war film where giving another soldier enough morphine to kill himself after a fatal wound is the closest anyone gets to an act of courage. And it's a war film not so much about characters and individuals, but about some kind of collective unconscious that floats through the air and intersects through the entanglements of a mind induced to violence, and a nature that has to watch itself be destroyed. That doesn't mean it takes some kind of scholar to appreciate a film like The Thin Red Line, and as much as I don't want to dissect, analyze, or do any of that other cinema studies stuff, but for me, this film works on every single level of aesthetic, content, and execution. Malick has a method of finding the film while it's being shot, and some critics have complained that Line feels incomplete, (it's original cut was 6 hours long, god I hope they release that on DVD some day). I couldn't disagree more, to me there is not a moment in the film that feels wasted or from some other far away part that was never properly developed. Every emotion is earned, every death is felt, and every image is a perfect representation of not a clear and distinct message, but of a feeling or a state of mind that makes the experience of the film so much more enjoyable because it is yours and yours alone. Very few directors can do that, Malick is one of them and forget about all the mythology around the guy, the mystery and all that other bull shit. Just watch Badlands, Days of Heaven, and (hopefully) The New World, and you'll see an artist who has such control over his craft that it no longer becomes his, it passes through as a kind of transcendence between artist and observer and only the best art in the world is capable of that.

One last thing because there is only so many times I can gush about a film, but The Thin Red Line, as previously stated is the most beautifully shot film ever made (for me). Malick has a such a delicate touch that even a shot like that of a jungle leaf penetrated by gun fire being illuminated by the mid-day sun never feels arty or self-conscious. There is one shot in this film that always confounds me with its simplicity and earth shattering profundity. It's an empty hill side, the hip-high green blades of grass gently swaying with the wind. The frame is empty and all of a sudden, the field becomes illuminated by the sunlight, inch by inch, blade by blade. I have no idea how in the world they planned for that, how they executed it, maybe it's all fake but it sure doesn't look like it. I think it may be one of my favorite shots ever, and I could go on and on for this movie. I have to mention the gliding camera movements tracking the battalion's movement over the insurmountable hillsides, the eloquent encircling of a tree trunk, or the peaceful destruction of Witt. It's so hard to convey the exact feeling these shots extract from me, but I can say it's quite close to a state of bliss.

Okay I've yakked enough, it's sunday and it's snowing outside, get out and enjoy it.

"Are you righteous? Kind? Does your confidence lie in this? Are you loved by all? Know that I was, too. Do you imagine your suffering will be any less because you loved goodness and truth?"