10/5/08
Flash of Genius switches between 3 different genres, almost abruptly: documentary, psychological drama, and legal thriller. The ending is depressing in how it doesn’t deviate from what one would ordinarily expect, but it does reinforce the everyman quality of its hero/the prototypical inventor. The film is not without irony, that the subject’s popular recognition will come not only posthumously, but without his control.
10/4/08
10/2/08
“It's all been done before…”
This election needed to be between past and future, not between political parties. Unfortunately, both futures won their primaries; post-convention, the conflict is dominated by the past. Whoever wins will owe their victory to what they should have been fighting against.
There needs to be debate, but instead rich DC middleaged/oldfolk sit around a table after the feast, in candlelit darkness with the power out, arguing about what went wrong. There is the tragedy of our era. It’s not that things are changing; it’s that things have, and none of who need to realize do.
I’ve already recovered my key. All I can do is watch nostalgically as a 1-term inexperienced governor and a loquacious senator come to town.
This election needed to be between past and future, not between political parties. Unfortunately, both futures won their primaries; post-convention, the conflict is dominated by the past. Whoever wins will owe their victory to what they should have been fighting against.
There needs to be debate, but instead rich DC middleaged/oldfolk sit around a table after the feast, in candlelit darkness with the power out, arguing about what went wrong. There is the tragedy of our era. It’s not that things are changing; it’s that things have, and none of who need to realize do.
I’ve already recovered my key. All I can do is watch nostalgically as a 1-term inexperienced governor and a loquacious senator come to town.
10/1/08
[profile temporarily utilized for space]
“…I met a girl who sang the blues / And I asked her for some happy news / But she just smiled and turned away…”
I chose between true and love, and not only was it not my choice, not only didn’t I make it, but I chose wrong. I erred more than can be explained, and probably more than I can ever hope to be forgiven for. The realization of the flaws behind the tragedy doesn’t help the character who still feels the pain of having taken something alive and felt the life squeezed away.
“…I went down to the sacred store / Where I’d heard the music years before / But the man there said the music wouldn’t play…”
I have never been ambitious, content to merely do as I do and let things proceed as they proceed. Stoicism may be a trap, but it is a pleasant one; for there I had everything I ever wanted: lost, found, and regained- everything save time. And does one say to the victorious de Leon, but now what?
“…But not a word was spoken…”
Goodbye, truth: you are a glorious incarnation, but I am not yours, and weren’t ever. I tell people I’m a pathological liar. They still don’t believe me.
“…The three men I admire most…”
I am 3 people: who I was, who I became, and who I will be.
“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie... ”
“…I met a girl who sang the blues / And I asked her for some happy news / But she just smiled and turned away…”
I chose between true and love, and not only was it not my choice, not only didn’t I make it, but I chose wrong. I erred more than can be explained, and probably more than I can ever hope to be forgiven for. The realization of the flaws behind the tragedy doesn’t help the character who still feels the pain of having taken something alive and felt the life squeezed away.
“…I went down to the sacred store / Where I’d heard the music years before / But the man there said the music wouldn’t play…”
I have never been ambitious, content to merely do as I do and let things proceed as they proceed. Stoicism may be a trap, but it is a pleasant one; for there I had everything I ever wanted: lost, found, and regained- everything save time. And does one say to the victorious de Leon, but now what?
“…But not a word was spoken…”
Goodbye, truth: you are a glorious incarnation, but I am not yours, and weren’t ever. I tell people I’m a pathological liar. They still don’t believe me.
“…The three men I admire most…”
I am 3 people: who I was, who I became, and who I will be.
“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie... ”
9/30/08
[profile temporarily utilized for space]
“…Helter-skelter in a summer swelter / The birds flew off…”
Out of the nest, into the air, and how sweet the whirlwind is in which my wings will spread.
“…We all got up to dance / Oh, but we never got the chance... ”
It will never be perfect, but I will show up and see what happens. Why not try; at the very least, I will have fun.
“…There we were all in one place / A generation lost…”
And I will get to share it. I will need you to know how sorry I am for what happened. How much I owe you, how much I promised myself, more than will genuinely be said. The guilt over how I chose my own insanity instead of supporting you is not something I think I will forgive myself for. My consolation will be in how you are a stronger person than I am, was, or will be.
“…With no time left to start again…”
With already everything I wanted, what will I go to? No matter what I find, what I will have left will have changed by the time I return. Yet I will go anyhow. With so much to do, and unable to go back, I will only close my eyes and run, and hopefully push through before out of air.
“…My hands were clenched in fists of rage…”
Friendship is a valuable commodity, to give trust that will allow one to trust, to grasp another’s hand in one’s own, and thereby will be led where one could not go alone. The right word will make truth beauty; the wrong word will reveal ugliness.
Friendship is a terrible power, especially for those who will not respect it.
“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie... ”
“…Helter-skelter in a summer swelter / The birds flew off…”
Out of the nest, into the air, and how sweet the whirlwind is in which my wings will spread.
“…We all got up to dance / Oh, but we never got the chance... ”
It will never be perfect, but I will show up and see what happens. Why not try; at the very least, I will have fun.
“…There we were all in one place / A generation lost…”
And I will get to share it. I will need you to know how sorry I am for what happened. How much I owe you, how much I promised myself, more than will genuinely be said. The guilt over how I chose my own insanity instead of supporting you is not something I think I will forgive myself for. My consolation will be in how you are a stronger person than I am, was, or will be.
“…With no time left to start again…”
With already everything I wanted, what will I go to? No matter what I find, what I will have left will have changed by the time I return. Yet I will go anyhow. With so much to do, and unable to go back, I will only close my eyes and run, and hopefully push through before out of air.
“…My hands were clenched in fists of rage…”
Friendship is a valuable commodity, to give trust that will allow one to trust, to grasp another’s hand in one’s own, and thereby will be led where one could not go alone. The right word will make truth beauty; the wrong word will reveal ugliness.
Friendship is a terrible power, especially for those who will not respect it.
“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie... ”
9/29/08
[profile temporarily utilized for space]
“…Now for 10 years we’ve been on our own…”
One Monday in September everything changes.
“…A voice that came from you and me…”
My greatest fear is that the same thing that happened to me would happen to you, that as I crashed you would fall.
The fear is unfounded. You are strong, stronger than I am.
“…The courtroom was adjourned…”
I can’t go back. Independence is always important, but now it is everything I could have. I shun what I cannot do, until I only need what I can.
“…No verdict was returned…”
I’m still not completely sure what caused the beginning, nor the end. I’m honestly not sure what help you were. But for trying most genuinely, I thank you.
“…And we sang dirges in the dark…”
No one else can understand, no one else can hear. Mourning for a lost life leads to lyrics of madness. There is finally found independence- but the price is isolation.
“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie... ”
“…Now for 10 years we’ve been on our own…”
One Monday in September everything changes.
“…A voice that came from you and me…”
My greatest fear is that the same thing that happened to me would happen to you, that as I crashed you would fall.
The fear is unfounded. You are strong, stronger than I am.
“…The courtroom was adjourned…”
I can’t go back. Independence is always important, but now it is everything I could have. I shun what I cannot do, until I only need what I can.
“…No verdict was returned…”
I’m still not completely sure what caused the beginning, nor the end. I’m honestly not sure what help you were. But for trying most genuinely, I thank you.
“…And we sang dirges in the dark…”
No one else can understand, no one else can hear. Mourning for a lost life leads to lyrics of madness. There is finally found independence- but the price is isolation.
“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie... ”
9/28/08
[profile temporarily utilized for space]
“A long, long time ago / I can still remember / How that music used to make me smile…”
Once I lived a life and heard a song, and kept coming back to where I had been captivated by it. I learned its lyrics and taught them, finding meaning and poetry, and hidden meaning, and discovery, and a clever crescendo, epic and grand and unique. I found harmony, and it was pleasing.
“…I knew if I had my chance / That I could make those people dance…”
Ideas brewed in my head. I had a story to tell, but I didn’t yet understand it. In the meantime, characters and stories evolved without my control. Laslo Bleem was born.
“…I couldn’t take one more step…”
I had what I wanted, I was who I wanted, I did what I wanted. I had found my limit, within which things were perfect, and I was rising, like the sea seen arising endlessly over an endless horizon.
“…I can’t remember if I cried…”
I regretted the elm tree I didn’t climb, the roads not wandered, the heartfelt missive whose reply came after the moment passed. When did numbness cease, and pain awaken?
“…Well, I know that you’re in love…”
I once knew a girl who had flowing blonde hair and a light lilting laugh, who read Calvin & Hobbes, spoke Latin, sang Lobachevsky, appreciated poetry; who constructed abstract sculptures from discarded disks, who perched on rooftops, who ran in the autumn rain; who named herself after a Greek letter and a mathematical constant. She was Phi, she was perfect.
I never had a chance with her. I never will.
“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie...”
“A long, long time ago / I can still remember / How that music used to make me smile…”
Once I lived a life and heard a song, and kept coming back to where I had been captivated by it. I learned its lyrics and taught them, finding meaning and poetry, and hidden meaning, and discovery, and a clever crescendo, epic and grand and unique. I found harmony, and it was pleasing.
“…I knew if I had my chance / That I could make those people dance…”
Ideas brewed in my head. I had a story to tell, but I didn’t yet understand it. In the meantime, characters and stories evolved without my control. Laslo Bleem was born.
“…I couldn’t take one more step…”
I had what I wanted, I was who I wanted, I did what I wanted. I had found my limit, within which things were perfect, and I was rising, like the sea seen arising endlessly over an endless horizon.
“…I can’t remember if I cried…”
I regretted the elm tree I didn’t climb, the roads not wandered, the heartfelt missive whose reply came after the moment passed. When did numbness cease, and pain awaken?
“…Well, I know that you’re in love…”
I once knew a girl who had flowing blonde hair and a light lilting laugh, who read Calvin & Hobbes, spoke Latin, sang Lobachevsky, appreciated poetry; who constructed abstract sculptures from discarded disks, who perched on rooftops, who ran in the autumn rain; who named herself after a Greek letter and a mathematical constant. She was Phi, she was perfect.
I never had a chance with her. I never will.
“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie...”
9/27/08
“I was convinced an Obama/McCain campaign would be measurably different on almost all standards. And to watch it become Bush/Kerry, Bush/Gore, has been one of the most dissatisfying experiences.”
“That means it's not an Obama/McCain campaign. It's a Guys Who Work for Bush/Guys Who Work for Kerry campaign.”
The hardest part of any party is the planning.
“Partisan politics saps all the productivity out of debate.”
Partisan politics saps all the productivity out of production.
“That means it's not an Obama/McCain campaign. It's a Guys Who Work for Bush/Guys Who Work for Kerry campaign.”
The hardest part of any party is the planning.
“Partisan politics saps all the productivity out of debate.”
Partisan politics saps all the productivity out of production.
9/25/08
9/24/08
“Some people will not tolerate such emotional honesty in communication. They would rather defend their dishonesty on the grounds that it might hurt others. Therefore, having rationalized their phoniness into nobility, they settle for superficial relationships.”
The question is not whether you would prefer I assent to your idea or say what I honestly feel, but what I do.
“Is it emotionally dishonest to then, instead of speaking, say nothing at all?”
“The cruelest lies are often told in silence.”
The question is not whether you would prefer I assent to your idea or say what I honestly feel, but what I do.
“Is it emotionally dishonest to then, instead of speaking, say nothing at all?”
“The cruelest lies are often told in silence.”
9/23/08
9/21/08
“Strumming my pain…”
Some things are bitter, fomenting up what surprisingly should have been expected, with a resonating distaste being brewed.
“…I heard he had a style / And so I came to see him to listen…”
Some things are sweet, heralding a day and a year and a lifetime in which a resonating joy can be exquisitely basked in, with sparkling eyes, akin minds, and a cool breeze on the cusp of summer and autumn.
“…Telling my whole life with his words…”
I need you to know this, that I know how special you are, that I trust you more than anyone else, more than I deserve. It’s not just that you’ve grown up; it’s that you enabled me to.
“…You guys sound great, awesome…”
Some things are bitter, fomenting up what surprisingly should have been expected, with a resonating distaste being brewed.
“…I heard he had a style / And so I came to see him to listen…”
Some things are sweet, heralding a day and a year and a lifetime in which a resonating joy can be exquisitely basked in, with sparkling eyes, akin minds, and a cool breeze on the cusp of summer and autumn.
“…Telling my whole life with his words…”
I need you to know this, that I know how special you are, that I trust you more than anyone else, more than I deserve. It’s not just that you’ve grown up; it’s that you enabled me to.
“…You guys sound great, awesome…”
9/20/08
9/19/08
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