Impending…
Life has its various ways of throwing up twists and turns and never allowing one to settle. At least when it is not the right time for one to settle, and I’m taking recent events as a sign that this is probably the case. I’m rather excited about it, because I don’t feel I’m ready to settle. There is a flame burning inside me for something more than what I’ve had lately, and I think it’s time I started listening to it and trying to quench it. I think travel is probably the way to go.
These recent events I mention have been somewhat tumultous, but at least they’ve been interesting. There’s been an ongoing personal saga that is slowly playing itself out and is in the “time heals all wounds” category at the moment. It’s really out of my hands. Indeed, everything that has happened lately has been out of my control. For some reason, I love that. It might be associated to a lack of responsibility on my own account and I might be hiding behind that, for better or worse.
My housemates and I received a letter today informing us that we are required to vacate our house by the 14th of October as it is scheduled to be developed. I mean it’s a bit of a shit-hole by most standards so it’s hardly surprising that the owners would want to rennovate it, but it’s my home. It has been for a while and it’s always felt like home, which is a rare thing and I’ll be sorry to leave it. Incidentally, this my first rental property, but hey, at least I’ve got rental history now…
So what to do? Where to move? Back home is the contigency plan but I guess I better start looking for somewhere to live, and some people to move in with. It’s a sad day really, and I am sure I’ll have several friends who will be disappointed with the unfortunate development. After all, this is the party house: the site of many nights of drunken debauchery. I was even going to host the work Christmas party here this year. There goes that idea…
On those nights of debauchery, they have become increasingly frequent due to the nature of the bachelor lifestyle. How much is partying too much? I don’t know. I don’t feel that way anyway. I’m enjoying life and discovering fun and friendship in new and unfamiliar places. My life is evolving and I can’t help but go along with it. Leaving a sense of familiarity is very difficult but sometimes it is necessary and one must make the most of the short time they are given. It’s not always going to be joyous or free of drama but in times like these the immortal words of The Dude from the Big Lebowski offer me comfort. He sums up life neatly:
“You know how it is. Strikes and gutters…”
Last tiem I went bowling I was awful, my glory days now well and truly behind me in that department. Ah, life goes on. Aimless and unexpected…sort of like this post.
Filed under: blogging, life | 8 Comments
Tags: change, eviction, evolution, life
Rilke’s Letters
Wow! I just found that most rare of all beasts (no not the Scuzzlebutt), something that spoke to me on all three of fundamental levels: Rilke’s letters blew me away because they connect with the would-be writer in me and offered valuable advice; better than that even, they spoke to me on an intensely personal level and seemed to offer incredible insight into the emotional turmoil I am experiencing, what with all the business of loneliness, sadness and apprehension about the future; and as if anything could top all that, they were actually relevant to my learning and necessary for my tertiary studies! (Sorry that was a really long sentence.)
But how amazing is that? I wouldn’t have thought that was even possible and now it dawns on me, all that stuff I’ve been learning about teaching and learning and finding ways to engage students with something that is relevant to their own lives. Well thank you for sending me that, Neil. I’m rather blown away and to be honest I was approaching Rilke with trepidation because his poetry belies a somewhat existential view point and is rather abstract and difficult to discern its meaning from. His letters, thankfully, are not.
To put the experience in context: I hadn’t even planned on reading the letters, and was unaware of their existence until I received them as a surprise package in the mail from a writing friend, who was really going out of his way to do something nice because he knew I would appreciate it. That, in itself, is good enough. As I mentioned previously, I am studying Rilke’s poetry at university this semester and have planned to write an essay examining his exploration of solitude, and the letters proved to be exceedingly useful as a secondary resource. I certainly feel like I’ve gained some insight into the author and have got a greater grasp on his philosophical position.
In an emotional context: This was the unexpected part, and a welcome surprise. Plagued as I am with doubts at the moment and an impending sadness due to unavoidable circumstances (of which I’d rather not go into), Rilke’s soothing words toMr. Kappus, who seems to be in a similarly unenviable emotional state, came as great relief to me and put many issues in perspective. What I got out of Rilke’s letters: the chief message was to “let life happen. Life is always right”. I find comfort in that, and I hope you do too. Normally I’m a very indecisive guy, and often I crave some external force to grant me some concrete sense of direction, something to work towards, and this is one of those rare occasions where I felt I was reinforced for my casual approach to life. For better or worse, time will tell…
Filed under: life, literature, philosophy, writing | Leave a Comment
Tags: life, philosophy, Rilke's letters
Self
I recently finished reading Self by Yann Martel, and to be honest I don’t know what I was expecting. I had hoped it would be as amazing as Life Of Pi, the only other novel of his that I’ve read. It wasn’t. I’m not saying that it wasn’t good. It certainly had its charms and as an experimental novel it worked fine. But it certainly wasn’t mind blowing. Suffice to say, I don’t now lump him with Julian Barnes in the “authors whose work I must read” category. I wish I did. Having said that I’ll probably still check out his other books, just in case.
Some of you may have had this phenomenon: to read a book that is really quite good, well written and everything but not particularly pleasant to read. That’s certainly the case here, and I imagine it is the same as reading American Psycho (which is only my list for the near future). It is the reading equivalent of watching The Office. It is cringe-worthy but there is an inherent truth that the audience can identify with, even if it’s not a comfortable truth.
There’s really nothing comfortable about Yann Martel’s first novel. It is a whirling first-person fictional biography whose primary concern is with the act of sex. First as a boy growing up to discover the joys of masturbation. Then, inexplicably, as an individual who wakes up as a woman at the age of 18 and experiences the loss of virginity and harrowing experience of rape (in the most gruesome and experimental passage of the book). There are issues with the pacing of the novel, and some readers may ultimately be unsatisfied with the ending, and the fact that the book doesn’t really go anyway. Not at least in terms of plot anyway.
But there’s lots to like here, and the writing is lucid and imaginative. There are rich metaphors and enough references to other authors and works to keep the intellectuals happy. It is a book I’d hesitate to recommend on account of how uncomfortable it made me in parts. But that may be the intention. And besides, you might not have issues with images of penises, rape and intimate lesbian scenes. I do though, but I’m glad I read it. It certainly made me feel…something.
Filed under: literature | 5 Comments
Tags: books, reading, Self, yann martel
Going into this movie with reasonably low expectations probably enhanced my enjoyment of the sixth instalment of the Harry Potter franchise. It was probably also helpful that I had forgotten exactly what happened in the book, so the movie was practically a whole new experience (I am not one of those avid fans who has read each book several times).
If I had a main criticim, it would be that it was slightly too long for what is essentially a kid’s movie. This, of course, is ironic in light of my last post but it is, I believe, an accurate criticism. I feel that the Harry Potter movies are suffering from the same syndrome that plagued the books, namely that there is an expectation from both the reader and the author/film makers that each sequel has to be bigger and better than the last one, and this necessitates an increase in length. They do this regardless of whether there is enough crucial plot to sustain it or not. This occurred most notably in the 5th and 7th books which didn’t warrant their length and were mostly filler. They seemed long, and what’s worse is that they were long merely for the sake of appearing to offer value. This is the case with the newest movie and I feel it spends too much of its 153 minutes devoted to teenage angst and the awkwardness of blossomong romance rather than the good vs evil plot against Lord Voldemort. It was actually quite different to how I remember the book and I can imagine that there are many fans in uproar about what has been omitted.
Indeed, it is only in the last hour that the audience gets a sense of confrontation and conflict: the first hour and a half is consumed by jealous and flirtatious girls awkward social situations, much like a sitcom. There are some humourous moments but the film makers have not focussed on what is important, and more importantly, what fans might want to see.
I am apprehensive regarding the release of the next (and final) chapter in the series. The studio has elected for the money grabbing option of releasing the finale in 2 instalments. This is, of course, marketing genius and will surely bank roll the coffers. However, from an artisitic viewpoint I cannot help but cringe. If the 6th book, which was one of the best and most action packed of the series in my opinion, can seem to drag at 2.5 hours, then the 7th book, which is basically all filler and was probably the worst in the series, is going to have trouble sustaining two films, especially if they both exceed 2 and a half hours as they probably will given Hollywood’s tendency toward the grandiose. Put simply: there is not enough plot in the last book to sustain a single movie, let alone two long ones. I will definitely see it when it comes out, but I have my reservations.
But by all means, check out the Half Blood Prince, it is an enjoyable and light cinmeatic experience with something for everyone.
Filed under: film, review | Leave a Comment
Tags: 6, film review, Half Blood Prince, Harry Potter
The Dying Art Of Patience
Whether I like it or not, the world is becoming a place for instant need satisfaction and this is destroying that most valuable of virtues: patience. I’ve been guilty of it my self recently, as I could not wait for the delayed release of the new DMB album and ended up downloading it from iTunes.
It is a little sad that my two room mates, both intelligent individuals, balk at the prospect of watching Amadeus, a film that is nearly 3 hours long but still a remarkable film. They admit to being put off by its length: refusing to watch it because they can’t sit there and focus for that long.
Remember, these are two guys who I would consider as being considerably above average in intelligence and they both enjoy movies. If one can’t expect them to watch such a movie, what hope is there to try and get a disinterested teen with a short attention span? Little I should think.
My question is: Why can’t a high quality film like Amadeus keep an audience engaged for 3 hours? Or rather, why can’t it attract viewers at all?
With regards to one of my room mates, I cannot help but notice certain contradictions. He just spent 6 months wading through Jonathon Franzen’s The Corrections, a formidable novel, and I know him to have read DeLillo’s epic, Underworld, without being intimidated by its length. So why movies? I guess no one really sits there and reads for a three hour stretch, so one can spread the reading over a long period of time. But surely if the movie is enjoyable it shouldn’t be an issue? I think the damage done by modern society may, in this case, be irreversible. Hang that: that was a “too-loaded” sentence and I don’t wish to pass a moral judgement as if I thought modern society is somehow on the decline. The truth is that it is just evolution and if people can have what they want now, why shouldn’t they get it?
Maybe I’m only frustrated because people have that reaction (ie not keen to watch it on the basis of length) to a few of my favourite movies, including the aforementioned Amadeus, and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The third instalment of that saga often comes under fire for being overlong, but with nearly 20 Oscars between that and Amadeus I would have to retort: How good does a movie have to be before you will watch it for 3 hours?
Until we meet again…
Filed under: blogging, film, life, society | 3 Comments
Tags: Amadeus, attention span, Lord of the Rings, modern society, movies, patience
Inspiration
I just spoke to a 21-year-old girl who informed me that she was writing a novel, and was about a third of the way through. She only brought it up after asking me if I was writing one, to which I replied “no”. We had talked before, a few months ago, and I probably informed her I was trying to work on both a sitcom and a screenplay, and that novel writing interests me but is a medium which I don’t think I have much affinity with. Maybe this would come with practice, but I am uncomfortable with the arbitrary nature of prose and using adverbs.
She has, though, inspired me to start on my novella but already I am stuck on the prologue and having trouble with the third person narration. I can’t help overwriting it. Is my best approach just to write it naturally and then give it to someone to edit and revise? They would need to cut a fair bit out! I, of course, would redraft it several times and try to correct my own errors. But who’s got the time for all that? I guess I do, if only I’d stop looking for excuses to avoid it.
Filed under: writing | 5 Comments
Tags: story, writing
Death
MY THREE EXPERIENCES OF DEATH:
1. AUNT JEANNETTE:- My dad’s sister, and my closest relative on my father’s side since none of his siblings produced any children whom my brother and I could call cousins. She died too young: too young for her and too young for me. I remember my dad being very upset. She was his closest sibling, and to lose a younger sister at such an early age (40ish) was surely extremely devastating. This was not long after my grandfather on the same side passed away. But I was truly too young to understand the impact of that at the time. There is a history of stroke/heart disease from that side of my family. I can only hope that my brother and I avoid that curse (my father already having had a heart attack).
I was probably about 10 when Jeannette died, and I don’t think I cried (well maybe a little). I was no doubt trying to be strong for my dad, ego-centric crusader that I was. At the funeral, my brother and I were enlisted as coffin-bearers, which was touching and I still remember that sense of responsibility and the slow, solemn steps we took out of the church to lay rest to a beloved aunt. Dad said she turned the most awful shade of white when they switched off the life support…
2. NAN VIDA:- I say Nan rather than grandma because that’s what I knew her as. Same side of the family, she was my dad’s mother, and a more stereotypical picture of an old lady you can’t imagine. There’s something sweet in that sense of the familiar, and although my mother didn’t get along particularly well with her, I remember her small house with fondness. My brother and I used to play badminton in the yard, or a puzzle-game called Labyrinth when it was raining. Her house had the most distinct smell I’ve ever experienced: kind of like painted metal and freshly cultivated vegetables.
She died a few years ago, when both my my parent and my brother were away in Europe. My friend John had moved in to keep me company, and I remember getting a phone call from her neighbour one afternoon telling me she had collapsed. Pretty distressing, but as a 20 year-old over an hour a way with little clue how to get there, what was I to do about it? He called my uncle who organised everything and then she passed away.
I felt guilty about going to the funeral without my dad. In truth, I never exchanged many words with my nan, and really didn’t know much about her. I didn’t even know she used to be a teacher until the eulogy my uncle gave. I went down with two of my aunties on my mother’s side, and my nonna. We sat in the second row, and everytime my uncle spoke I thought of my dad and died a little inside. I really felt for him. That was the most I’d cried at a funeral, and I surprised myself. I had thought myself more detached than that, but the eulogy was enlightening, and while she was alive I never knew how much she loved Sam and I. I do now.
I came away guilty that I had known so little about her, and had made so little effort to know her. This guilt was increased when she bequethed Sam and I sizable sums of money. I still don’t believe I deserve it…
3. DANIELLA:- Though no blood relation, she was like a second mother to me. She was the mum of a friend a made in Playgroup which I did when I was two. She only died a year or so ago, so I had known her nearly all my life. This was a friend of the family who was very dear to me. Perhaps closer than either of the two people I have so far mentioned, who all happen to be female coincidentally.
Ben and his brother Bill both made excellent heartfelt speeches at the eulogy, and again I cried. How could I not? There were moments of bittersweet memories and painful laughter. She was another who died too soon and her husband, Mark’s face as he spoke about the love of his life was truly pitiable. They were a lovely family, and though I don’t believe it, I hope they will be together some day.
Daniella died of breast cancer, despite fighting it off once before. It must have come back with a vengeance and I still recall with horror, her gaunt face and shaved head. It was heart-breaking to see her in that state. I hope she has gone to a better place. My memory of her will always be as a really out-going, friendly, energetic woman who was passionate and very intelligent. At the time I used to lament that she never allowed a television in her house. Ben lamented it too, but now I see it cultivated a rich imagination within her family, a passion for books and learning and great artistic skills. She would be very proud of her children. Regreattbly, I do not see them as often as I would like. I used to see them often.
One time, Ben and I caught the train to Tuggerah to go to the movies when we were about 15 or so. It is only out of reverie that I tell you this, but we went to see The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and I think we made it to about halfway. There were questions back and forth about whether or not we wanted to leave, “do you wanna go man?”, “I’m easy. You?” Neither of us wanted to accept the responisbility of being cowardly. In retrospect it is not surprising: him with no experience of television, me with no horror movie experience (at the time). We left. I remember as we walked back to the station, we both tried to make excuses. He would say: “I can deal with all the deaths, but not the torture. I draw the line at that.” Like he was taking some moral high ground for being petrified. And I agreed implicitly. As long as noone ever found out, everything would be ok. I don’t know why I told you that.
They were good days.
All these memories have choked me up and I’m on the verge of crying once again, but to live is to feel and I would not wish it any other way…
Filed under: life | 2 Comments
Tags: Death, friendship, funeral, memory, sadness
Tiredness…
As much as it pains me, I might have to admit that I’m getting too old for Woodport Wednesdays. Too old for any sort of midweek drinking adventure based on how slowly I seem to be recovering. There is nothing like a lack of sleep to dull the mind and inhibit creativity. Focus is hard to achieve even with a mind of clarity. Today my insides are in turmoil and it has more than once crossed my mind to partake in an afternoon nap… It seems a waste of the first free time I’ve had for a while, and though it is only a meagre few hours I had wished to make something of it. Something productive, but seeings though I’ve made my proverbial bed, now I have to sleep in it…I may as well sleep in my literal bed too. Damage limitation…
Filed under: blogging, life | 3 Comments
Tags: creativity, sleep
My final thought on Hemingway
I say final thought, but I’m probably too young to make such an assertion. In any case, Hemingway has been on my mind again and it seems I just can’t make up my mind about him. I have no doubt that my opinion will, once again, change over time but I won’t pester you with it so essentially this may serve as my last public thought on Ernest Hemingway.
The more I’ve thought about him and his writing, the more it strikes me that as an author, Hemingway is at his best when he uses less words. There are some authors whose writing I can’t get enough of, and I sometimes wish their books would never end. I have always believed that Hemingway’s short stories were more enjoyable than his novels (in my experience so far), and that he seemed like a minimalist kind of guy, and his writing was at its best when it reflected this. It is really all about what Hemingway doesn’t say when it comes to his writing. I personally believe that his style is suited to small stories, involving only a few characters and not really relying much on plot or action. That is why I feel that his novels tend to drag a bit, even though they are short for novels, but it is also why his short stories are so powerful.
What reminded me of all this, and got me thinking, was rereading his famous six word short story…”For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” I can’t get it out of my mind. It just works. It is powerful and emotive and is something I wish I had written myself. It is the choice of the words that I can’t get past. They are absolutely perfect.
That is all.
Filed under: literature, writing | 10 Comments
Tags: Hemingway
The tide
Life is full of peaks and troughs. Or, in the immortal words of the Coen’s in The Big Lebowski, “you know, this and that, strikes and gutters.” The reason I mention this (and you’re probably thinking, what the hell as this got to do with the tide? Indeed, nothing literal), I mention this because recently I have experienced my blogs highest views per day count. It was only just over 100 but I was excited about it, I felt like it might represent a burgeoning interest in my online ramblings. Ah, that false hope was misleading because within a mere week I experienced my lowest viewing figures for a 24 hour period. The remarkably crushing…ZERO! Disheartening, yes. Surprising, no. I have been guilty of not putting much new material up here lately and for that I’m sorry.
Perhaps the biggest surprise is that my blog attracts any readers at all. I have tried not to tell my friends about it because they are not the people for whom I write it. Neither are you, coincidentally. I write it for myself, in place of any formal diary, though perhaps with less discipline.
I am also very surprised to see that people have specifically searched for both my name and my blogs name, maybe in google, maybe in wordpress, I dunno. That’s kind of exciting. I only hope it is not the people who seem to delight in lampooning my posts, but one can never be sure.
So for reading, I thank you, and I (hmmm, I won’t say pray because that means nothing to me) hope that I won’t have to experience another situation in which my blog doesn’t attract a single view. Toward this end, and if you want me to post more regularly, feel free to suggest post ideas or anything you might want me to review or write about. I would be more than happy to have a bit of external direction/motivation. But then, of course, that would depend on you actually caring about my opinion on something. There’s the tricky part…
Filed under: blogging, life, writing | 1 Comment
Tags: blogging, readers, views, writing
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