proteanme

No Country for Old Men. Blew my ass away and I’m not trying to be clever. I’m glad I didn’t read the book. I just barely scanned reviews. The Coen brothers stepped back and made something without the mark of Coeness on it, if ya know what I mean. It was stunning. Roger Ebeert said, “This movie is a masterful evocation of time, place, character, moral choices, immoral certainties, human nature and fate.” I thought this was a much more challenging film than I’m Not There. I immediately want to see it again. Next up – There Will be Blood.

I love grocery shopping, in part because of how much I love food and cooking, but also in part because Portland is home to the best local grocery chain I’ve ever had the pleasure of shopping at. New Seasons rocks it because they are friendly, they support local farmers, offer organics as well items like Coke and Oreos, employ a knowledgeable staff who can make good recommendations about what’s in season, what wines go with what, etc, and are more than happy to let you sample all sorts of stuff. I had an interview there a number of years back and could have had the job, except it was more technical support for electronic devices like scales, card swipes and registers than it was web development. So it wasn’t a good match. Anyway back to today. It was an especially nice excursion because it appeared to be foxy lady shopping day. Good lord, it was impossible not to be distracted by the wide variety of hot women in nearly every aisle. I’m not even sure I got all the items on my list, but I don’t care as I rode home happy nonetheless.

I mean really, damn. “I gotta have some of your attention give it to me.”  You got it.

I’m going to regularly post MP3’s of songs I wrote by myself or ones I wrote with Matt. This week is one of mine, from my solo project, Buddy Love. It’s an oldie, maybe 5 years ago; anyway here it is: Her secret Theory. (RU if you check this out, please note I’m not feeling particularly nostalgic, but it’s nice to hear this none the less.)

A day spent creating clipping paths and faking finishes in Photoshop is good practice for all the other tedious tasks I have tackle, like doing the dishes, cleaning the litter box, putting away clean clothes, taking out the compost, etc.  Actually, sometimes when my work day seems to be filled with more tedious tasks than interesting ones I try to take the approach of how can I do this tedious task to the absolute best of my ability.  So how can I create the best fake of brushed nickel?  How can I do a clipping path using as few anchor points as possible.  It’s an interesting practice that sometimes leads to lots of satisfaction and acquiring new skills. Sometimes.  Not always.

What if the world does not have intrinsic meaning? If life has no inherent purpose? If the universe isn’t really that interested in me? Is that really so bad?  If the onus is on me to create significance, to create substance –  isn’t that a life?  Isn’t it that I’m not special, but being alive is special – so live mother fucker.

Falling in love with reality means that some days are just gonna break your heart.  A day as gray and rainy as today almost begs for melancholy, a sad little companion I can’t out pedal no matter where I ride.  It’s ok.

I love riding my bike at night, if it’s not too cold or too windy or too rainy. It’s easy to get off the busy streets and ride on the quiet ones. Look at the sky, which always seems hopeful when the clouds lift a little. Ride through the wet leaves and pass the porch lights.  Turn the corner by the pizza place down the street still packed in its last hour, then ride by the cool kids outside Beulah Land.  The green light delivers me almost home. The familiar is feeling sublime.

A few thoughts on some of this year’s serious films.

• Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead – A bit of a modern day Shakespearian tragedy. Great film.
• Gone Baby Gone – The first half is really good, but then the story falls apart, which I assume is Dennis Lehane’s fault. Stiil, worth seeing.
• The Assassanation of Jesse James… – Like a painting. Plus Brad Pitt’s acting (with more than 30 films under his belt) lends some proof to the theory that practice can make you better. Not great, mind you, but better. See this one on the big screen.
• American Gangster – Montage plus soundtrack is not a substitute for actual narrative and actual acting. Had potential, but boring. Wait for the DVD.
• I’m Not There – Yes, Cate Blanchett should win the academy award. It’s ambitious, and I want to love it, but I keep forgetting I saw it. A little fragile to hold your full attention on the small screen.
• Michael Clayton – Hard not to like anything with Tilda Swinton. The ‘practice theory’ I mentioned in reference to Brad Pitt holds for George Clooney too. I ask myself if the film is mysogonistic and I duuno. See it for yourself on DVD.

I know. I know. I’m quoting Madonna, but it’s snowing here on Christmas day and I had to do something to catch myself before I slipped into some kind of unwanted cloying thing; especially because I’m not really feeling particularly sentimental . I’m not feeling particularly dispassionate either. For the first time in my life I woke up alone on Christmas morning, with slim prospects for anything special happening except the ever present invitation to fall in love with reality, something I don’t know how to talk about without lapsing into trite explanations. Suffice it to say everything is okay, profoundly okay. I imagine it might even be luxuriously okay.