Mooshy, sad, pissed-off stuff.

My 'jog on' wore off.

A friend wrote to tell me that she noticed that I was hiding, and that she wanted to let me know she was thinking of me. I thought I would just write back and say 'thank you', but as it often happens when i get letters or lines beneath my fingertips, the truth comes out. The following is the main body of the reply i sent her. i thought it might be smart to share this with anyone who cares about me. thank you.

"the anniversary of dad's death is today, robbie's next week, and lovely, wonderful mothers' day always falls in between. i have decided as of today to boycott mother's day, except as a financial windfall, from now on.
and no amount of pretending otherwise in public and to family and friends is going to take away the fact that my own child is dead, and freshly, and i have to deal with that as the public - and my family and friends - see fit. that is harder and hurts more than anyone (except maybe chris) knows. because she was a dog, i am not allowed the same grief, it seems [another friend] said something to me on friday night that really, finally drove that point home. i carry it as best i know how and find that my love and compassion for the rest of the world has dimmed as a result. i try even harder, in an attempt to morally contradict my selfish anger, to be good and polite and helpful and understanding, and turn a little more into steel every day.
i still cry for Luna every day. every step i take, i look for her out of the corner of my eye. if i am coming home i still think 'I'll get to see Luna in a minute!", and that breaks me down to the ground every time. in the house, i still sometimes habitually ask chris where she is like i did when i couldn't see her and she'd gone quiet. there is a hole in the world where she was. i don't know how else to put it, but i miss her more than i've ever missed any human. i loved and trusted her more too. she was such a natural part of me, and of my life, that i had no idea how much i depended on her until she was gone. even just dealing with the grief of that realization is a plateful... but that is life isn't it? all of that is/was to be expected, and i know i'll cope with it just like i have with everything else. the hard part is trying to pretend like things are still the same with the people around me, or that things even ok in any way. trying to pretend like i'm fine because it very much seems that this is what people expect of me. trying to gracefully understand and deal with people's insensitivity about it, trying to remember every *!#$%&* day why i do that, knowing for sure, underneath it all that it's not really worth it - but it's my job. my heart has changed like metal in fire, and not for the good. i understand my own mother now better than i ever thought i could. i can only hope that i am looking at it from the opposite side of the mirror. i suppose only time will tell."
...

lots of scary things swimming under the surface. i tend to forget how phosphorescent my anger can burn. i do my best to contain the fire, but that's bad in a way too. i have been actively working on taking a more 'zen' perspective, and trying hard to be more kind and accepting, though i definitely feel less so. it seems like the only practical defense.
as for the scary swimmers, thank god i can deal with them here. i can be honest with SOMEone... anyone who cares to listen, in fact. what a blessing. and even if no one is listening, it still makes me feel like i've tried to do something to help myself, even if it's just put a message in a bottle and cast it out on the scary water.
i guess i need to remember that there are good things about phosphorous. it burns even in water, and it puts off a hell of a light.

burning,
-s

BLOG ON!

Believe it or not, this post is a review of one of my new favorite films - "Hot Fuzz". I NEVER write reviews, so that tells you something.

Actually I was originally inspired to come here and write a rant about more mooshy, sad, pissed-off stuff, but just thinking my new catch-phrase and making this nifty visual aide to go with it made me feel better. You should definitely try it sometime.

Now, let's dive into the "Fuzz"...

On the surface, this seems like another goofy spoofy flick. There are millions of them, and most of us hate most of them. However, once in a Blue Moon (or even less often) comes a dumb movie that is so smart it's sexy. Spinal Tap is one of these. Naked Gun is not.

"To describe [Hot Fuzz] as a spoof is unfair - they just corrupt the genre a little and turn up the comedy." - imdb.com

I love intelligent, geeky, goofy comedies. They're one of my three favorite kinds of film - costume things and over-the-top action are the others. With Hot Fuzz, I can't lose. It's sharply funny, inspirational, sarcastic, ironic, beautifully British, a loving homage to its' genres, and it contains one of the rarest and most wonderful things in the entire film industry: normal looking (real, not buff plastic perfection) and yet compelling, memorable, admirable ( not to mention sexy, cool, tough, weird, smart - you name it) leading men*.
Yippee!

The premise is pretty basic, but since the style of the film is hardcore over the top spoofing of cop/action films, the gloves
- and the cuffs - are off, as far as the jokes are concerned. Remember, these are the same guys who did Shaun of the Dead.
Like that weird-ass Wes Andersen crew, the Wachowskis, the Cohens and the Pythons, it seems I am almost guaranteed to enjoy anything they do, because they do what I like, they do it with love, and without holding back.

The story is a good little mystery with just enough plot twists and turns. The spoof-factor guarantees lots of great action scene parodies, and lots of horrible, suspicious characters (and that gives us a chance to see some of our favorite british actors** - including Bill Nighy***!). For the same reason, there are catch phrases that will stick with you, but unlike the usual tough-guy one-liners you come to expect from cop-flicks, you're left with gems like the one X and I have whole-heartedly adopted:
"Pphlbt! Jog on!"
There are also some truly shocking special effects, obviously done by the 'Shawn' team as well, and though there are less total gross-out moments - remember this is an action/cop thriller/murder mystery - the few that they have included pack an impressive "crunch".
*shudder*

Oh yeah, it's good!

When you watch it, watch it with a friend. Like the Monty Python stuff, you'll need someone to share the jokes with later...
besides your peace lily, that is.

"AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! pow!pow!pow!pow!"
-s

*Philip Seymour Hoffman, William H. Macy, Jeff Goldblum, Gary Oldman, Steve Buscemi, Jet Li, Gerard Depardieu, Bill Nighy, Bruce Mufuhn Willis, yo...
**Not to mention an EasterEgg-like Cate Blanchett cameo...
***Isn't he dead sexy in tentacles?!

I am just a cowboy...


despite the smiley, sparkly happy-cheeky trying to be good me, i can never forget the razors' edge, the hanging thread – the huddled masses struggling to be quiet inside me.

sitting outside on my porch for a few minutes, a bright sunny spring day that almost seems unreal. i've been poring through my entire photo collection, culling, organizing and throwing away multiple kitchen garbage bags full of envelopes, photos, negatives* and the past is on me like a rabid monkey right now.

the exterior world looks like an old photograph of another place, and only the blackbirds bitching in the tops of the trees remind me that this is in fact my reality. part of me feels good, seeing old beloved faces again, but there are photos of my father, very sick... there are photos of Lu from all the months of her whole life. Lu in the snow, at the beach, asleep in the back of my car, curled up with kitten George, brawling with kitten George... there are pictures of Cat who crossed the bridge in 2000 – Luna's first cat. :) there are pictures of Robbie, and friends who i barely even remember... there are pictures of me that i barely even remember, and not because i was inebriated, but because i wasn't actually there. a part of me was, my face, my hands, my body, some section of my brain; but my soul, my whole self was in deep hiding, for many years of my life. bits of me took turns pretending to be all of me, all the time, and i'm not sure that a million photographs and two lifetimes worth of work could put me back together again, much less all the kings' horses and men...

one of the replicant** traits that hit home with me especially was the collecting of their precious photos. those photographs, worth risking their lives for, made their nonexistent pasts real. obviously, if there are pictures of something, it happened, yes? and i bet everyone has experienced the feeling of seeing a photo and realizing that you had forgotten that moment completely – but the photo brings instant recall, even down to smells and sounds...

a lot of my past is that way, more of a story to me than a memory. so much that surrounds each moment remembered – and each photo – is a morass of misery, depression, fear and true insanity. this multiplicity, this memory distance, this is the face of that illness. the good side is that seeing these pictures reminds me of how far i've pulled and dragged myself (not to mention how far i've been pulled, dragged and toted by others...) but that's also the bad side too. every to has a from, and despite even the most galactic distance of some memories, they never completely disappear.

luckily there are only a few pictures of my childhood, before i got a camera of my own. the few that i have, i treasure. most were taken by people that i loved and trusted (aunt sue, charlyn...) in some of the few places where i had happy times (grandmas' and aunt sues') but there are some that are hard to see, because of the ghosts in our eyes, or because we remember the days surrounding that particular photograph. school pictures and studio pictures are the worst. my brother can't stand to look at them at all.

i think that one of the ways we manage is by making the past into a story, one in which we are ultimately the heroes, and then living a life on our own as adults that is like a story too. A grand adventure story, with lots of exciting, interesting and odd characters and strange but compelling plot twists and turns. A story in which we ultimately prove that we are the heroes.

i know i must seem to think that i am the center of the universe... actually, i suppose that is true, i do. but i only believe that i am the center of mine. i assume and hope that each person is the center of their own universe, and that they feel the same way. i know that i am only the star of the sam show, and i bring everything i can to that 'show'. i also assume that i am a player or extra in everyone else's plot, and that i have a duty to do my best in their script. i am certainly delighted with the characters that people my own, heroes, villains, extras, all***. it may be wrong to think of life this way, but for the life of me, i can't think why. i never, ever forget the blackbirds, the poor people of myanmar and the gulf coast and next door. it is those things that remind me most of my duty, of the part i play in my own life and the lives of others. it is because of the razor's edge and the hanging thread that i must sparkle, and the show must go on.

thank you all for the great scripts and roles. (the soundtrack is awesome, too :)
much love,

-s

* my conscience hurts me for this. i wish i could recycle all of them – and i have chosen many for that purpose – but there are several reasons why i can't. i also comfort myself knowing that this is a once-in-a-lifetime disposal, like that of a car. this is my first and last time to have to do this chore.

**"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die."

***a toast to you, inspiring-Bright, squeertike, leaf-flight! *clink!*