Plot and Adaptation

Items of cultural consumption are measured by both artistic and entertainment value.  Plot drives an item's entertainment value, while style drives an item's artistic value.

previously titled "a poem"

my artificial taste
my partial absorption of many many things

it no longer holds virtue
it simply holds

spring awakens spirit
those who identify, those who feel and see it
are those who have; the others, they are have-not

i am a man by birth, a man by aesthetic choice, 
a man

others are there, or are not, being out

Who among us has known of identity?  Who has felt the steely coals of sinking loins?
Which of our young boys may chance to?

untitled

a man passed through

speaking to some, offering a hand to all

it was translucent, but nevertheless darkly-toned

his palm closed and then opened again

leaving glimpses of the middle mark

it was a rich purple, slightly yellow along its edge

the color seemed to differ each time he came

the last time green 

and before that--white

the first day it had been white

no one knew why he came that day

it was near dusk

a street engulfed by the setting sun

men, women, and children moved toward unknown destinations, faces blinded or necks roasted

maybe he knew where they were going, I don't know

he stood, stationary amongst the swirling crowds

he lifted his hands, touching the sky

he raised his voice, bellowing words into the sky

> the time is nigh, the time is nigh

he said that several more times, then lowered his hands 

then he spoke again, words I did not understand

the swirl slowed

the men, women, and children looked at him

a shadow cast by a nearby well crept toward him 

he lifted his left hand, extending it toward the well

it continued, faster now

he lowered his hand as the darkness covered him

the swirl began, but with a convergent tinge

they reached for him, twisting and writhing and slipping

they hit him with their hands

they did this many times, more than I could count

I could no longer see his face, he was covered by the men, women, and children between us

I saw only his open hands, touching the sky, with marks that gleamed a milk white

There are some things that are better left without explanation.  Sometimes a person's just got to accept things.  Once a story's told, there's nothing left to build.

An Earnest Attempt at "Existential" Living

Life is a series of choices.  In each moment we are presented with infinite potential actions; yet, commonly, we act as if these choices are predetermined.  Our inescapable fallibility combined with our human wants--which often are believed to be necessity--leave us to a path that is continuously self-confirmed.  The accumulation of experience becomes a necessary consequence to a rigidly lackluster essence.  

This type of mindset is malicious because it pulls the actor out of the present, into non-present temporal contexts, where one defaults to the path of least resistance.  Memory has the capacity to inhibit the actor, if the past feels fluid, burgeoning alternative outcome trees.  The past must be accepted as rigid, even if it is not completely understood.  The presence of ambiguity in one's past should become immaterial, because it is unchangeable, and unrewarding in fantasy.

The goal is to becomes an autonomous actor, acting spontaneously, grounded in self-identified virtue.  One defines the axioms by which they will live, and attempts to rigidly follow.  One becomes able to shift the rigidity to the present, and the fluidity in the present.  Rewards in memory are simply potential future rewards.  A photograph captures the past, but yields a potential reward only in future sensory consumption.  Reminders of the so-called "best days of our lives"--the college years--will be valuable only in evidence suggesting that "heights" are possible.  More prominently, they will be reminders of the relative diminishment of the present.

So, for a worthy life, one must rely heavily on self-identified virtue, constructed axiomatically.  This is goal-building.  One must make a moral determination on how the environment should be acted on to maintain autonomy.  One can engage in a certain type of behavior in physical, social, and intellectual endeavors that is consistent with the axioms.  One must only self-justify, although collective-justification will inevitably factor into self-justification.

I abruptly end this--

A Gallery: The First

My search to provide value through this blog has been stagnant. The 'blog structure' is something I must reject if I'm to truly utilize this -place-.  

I will showcase the valuable moments I've had through imagery.

Masculin Féminin  1966

What is Youth? This is youth.

My second viewing was filled with pure awe.  

Imagine finding yourself in a place that was the setting of your essential being.  

The Force Awakens  2015

The achievement is sensation. J.J Abrams has constructed the best 'pure' action film of the year. Forget the rest of the series; if you've been remotely aware of pop culture, you know enough about this universe.  

First film I saw twice in theatres.  

Le Petit Soldat  1963

The Godard aesthetic itself is enough. The plot, the visual artistry of individual shots can fall away; there's still enough. The lives of the characters matter, not because of some moral directive, but because of the meaning they create themselves.

"Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" 

Watching it again was seeing it for the first time. Sexism is entrenched in the culture, inhibiting true expression of identity in both sexes. This shows the viewer a distinctly American place.

Art Angels

My musical taste is largely undefined, but it tends to angle toward two genres: vocally-female Pop and 'inventive' Rap (My other favorite album of last year was To Pimp a Butterfly). This is a distinct iteration of the female-pop sound; Grimes' guttural, babyish vocals are matched with sporadic descents into sonic chaos. The inexactitude, the human volatility in the sound gives it the feel of genuine art.  

Anti

This is the best cover art I've seen. The first three tracks are sublime. Do yourself a favor; endure.

The Enslavement of Culture

So, so often I challenge my understanding of the nature of my experience with others--other people.  Each wave of security is matched by a wave of paranoia.  How am I to discern each relationship's true nature when each side is using the other?  Independence is what I aim for.  I want to instill within myself a process of self-affirmation.  I achieve this through

Reformation

Wow!  I haven't written anything in quite awhile.  I was sort of dreading having to write something, as if it were a chore.  I worked for hours constructing my previous two posts; each developing exactly as I wished, remaining perfect.  This one will not--cannot, be that.  I want a hot mess.  This is not for the health of the blog, it is for myself.

There is a book I read, one that really deserves its own post.  But since I doubt I'll ever get to that, I'll unload it here:

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers

I liked this book more than all of the others.  The others I've read.  For some reason, though, it took me nearly two months to read.  An innocent purchase in a local thrift store because "it's on those lists they make" turned into a life experience.  The first chapter was immediately riveting, mostly because of the elephantized question: Why is [this character] doing this?  It wasn't in an annoyed "look at that dumbass" sense, it was curiosity, as [this character]'s motivations were potentially significant to the human condition.  Each chapter had the potential to stand alone; it was a book of linked short stories.  All of the characters were significant.  McCullers illuminated their thoughts in a way which made them supremely relatable and/or likable, or just real.  Every conversation had a subliminal dimension, one barely accessible to the reader; perhaps it was unstatable, yet recognizable.  Inarticulable, yet present are the words I'm looking for.  In the recent months I've dipped into African-American literature, reading--why I'll list them!

Listed in order of completion
Soul on Ice  :  Eldridge Cleaver
Between the World and Me  :  Ta-Nehisi Coates
The Fire Next Time  :  James Baldwin
Appeal  :  David Walker
Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl  :  Harriet Jacobs
Their Eyes Were Watching God  :  Zora Neale Hurston
Invisible Man  :  Ralph Ellison [I'm in the middle of this book]

So, while McCullers is not black, she creates a character--Dr. Copeland--whom embodied my gravitation toward reading about the black condition in America.  I want to hear the black intellectual voice.  As I approached the conclusion of this book, I was intensely aware of the personal significance of this book to me, and began to imagine myself experiencing a sort of transcendent bliss upon reading its last words.  Despite the seemingly unreachably high standards, this essentially happened, which was incredible.

I don't know the nature of my literary canon (because I haven't thought about it enough), but this book is unquestionably in it.

So the movie I watched was Moonrise Kingdom.  It was my second time watching it, but first time getting it.  Although I've only seen three of his films, I feel confident in saying this is Wes Anderson's best.  His style somehow returns the viewer to a sensory experience of a child--of happy and sad, good and bad--yet does not outright dismiss the nihilistic conclusion we've all come upon.  Each shot looks cool.  The writing is funny.  The acting is not entirely human, it's 'Wes Anderson'-human.  A place, certainly not of Earth, created for a true expression of innocence, of honesty.

Please endure.

I imagine my next post will be more focused, more deliberate, and necessarily, less honest syntactically, but perhaps more honest semantically.