It's one of the most powerful films ever made.
It moves me to the ends of my emotion every time I watch it.
If you don't get it, I'm sorry that you live in a fantasy world.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Mini-Time Capsule
I just found a school bag from last year that I haven't opened in probably nine months. Let's see what's inside:
*A lot of Shakespeare plays (The Tempest, King John, Henry IV Pt. 1 and 2, and Richard II). Apparently I was really into the Histories at the time.
*A Sports Illustrated and ESPN magazine with the exact same cover (remember that, Mal?)
- It was of the Boston Celtics, who wound up winning the NBA Championship.
*Nirvana: With the Lights Out box set. I've been wondering where that was.
* "Candide" by Voltaire. I'm such a loser.
* "Awake in the Dark," by Roger Ebert. A must read if you possess a love of film.
*A Dictionary (Webster's of course)
*Plato's "Republic" (a must read if you are interested in humans on any level)
*A biography of Honus Wagner, a turn of the Century (last Century) baseball player. (I repeat, loser).
*Wow! The DVD of "Talk Radio," a play I was in! I thought I'd lost it!
Overall, not that interesting. I thought I might potentially find something cool. I was wrong. This was a bust.
*A lot of Shakespeare plays (The Tempest, King John, Henry IV Pt. 1 and 2, and Richard II). Apparently I was really into the Histories at the time.
*A Sports Illustrated and ESPN magazine with the exact same cover (remember that, Mal?)
- It was of the Boston Celtics, who wound up winning the NBA Championship.
*Nirvana: With the Lights Out box set. I've been wondering where that was.
* "Candide" by Voltaire. I'm such a loser.
* "Awake in the Dark," by Roger Ebert. A must read if you possess a love of film.
*A Dictionary (Webster's of course)
*Plato's "Republic" (a must read if you are interested in humans on any level)
*A biography of Honus Wagner, a turn of the Century (last Century) baseball player. (I repeat, loser).
*Wow! The DVD of "Talk Radio," a play I was in! I thought I'd lost it!
Overall, not that interesting. I thought I might potentially find something cool. I was wrong. This was a bust.
Of Conch Shells and Literature
A conch shell.
It used to be so beautiful.
It used to remind me of the ocean.
Now it only reminds me of the evils of humanity.
How wicked we can be, when reverted back to nature.
Thanks, William Golding.
It used to be so beautiful.
It used to remind me of the ocean.
Now it only reminds me of the evils of humanity.
How wicked we can be, when reverted back to nature.
Thanks, William Golding.
A Renewed Sense of Self
Barack Obama made the single greatest speech of my lifetime tonight.
It made me cry.
It made me feel patriotic.
It made me feel proud of my country for the first time since right after September 11.
It also helped re-convince me I was right about him.
A lot of things lately had made me think twice. Things Obama has (hasn't) said. Talking with other people.
Don't get me wrong, Obama has been my choice over McCain since day one. But until tonight I felt like I was picking the lesser of two evils.
Now I feel like I'm picking the next President of the United States.
Barack Obama is my president.
And it makes me feel good inside.
Oh, and Joe Biden - best V.P. choice ever. He's one of my political heroes. Go Joe.
It made me cry.
It made me feel patriotic.
It made me feel proud of my country for the first time since right after September 11.
It also helped re-convince me I was right about him.
A lot of things lately had made me think twice. Things Obama has (hasn't) said. Talking with other people.
Don't get me wrong, Obama has been my choice over McCain since day one. But until tonight I felt like I was picking the lesser of two evils.
Now I feel like I'm picking the next President of the United States.
Barack Obama is my president.
And it makes me feel good inside.
Oh, and Joe Biden - best V.P. choice ever. He's one of my political heroes. Go Joe.
Aspirations of a 19 year old
I found this just a moment ago. I wrote it on July 25, 2006. I love how idealistic I was then. Brings back good memories:
I really think I want to make movies for a living. Or write. Or write movies. I think it's because I like the idea of creating something. The thought of being able to put what's in my head into words or images really excites me.
It's not just that. If it was then I would just keep a diary or something. The idea of sharing my thoughts, my views, my stories, with others is what really makes me want to be a filmmaker, writer, etc.
Film is the more powerful medium now. Words are best used for philosophical theses and scientific reports, but images are more powerful when telling a story. No matter how great (or pitiful) the dialogue of a film, images are the first thing that come to mind when recalling it.
In "A Streetcar Named Desire," the most powerful image that comes to mind is that of Brando standing on the sidewalk, shouting that infamous line. It's not the word, "Stella," that is imprinted in the mind. It is how Brando says "Stella." The obvious torment in his face - those raw, animalistic expressions - those are the images that I always remember...and no amount of words could convey emotion on that level.
I really think I want to make movies for a living. Or write. Or write movies. I think it's because I like the idea of creating something. The thought of being able to put what's in my head into words or images really excites me.
It's not just that. If it was then I would just keep a diary or something. The idea of sharing my thoughts, my views, my stories, with others is what really makes me want to be a filmmaker, writer, etc.
Film is the more powerful medium now. Words are best used for philosophical theses and scientific reports, but images are more powerful when telling a story. No matter how great (or pitiful) the dialogue of a film, images are the first thing that come to mind when recalling it.
In "A Streetcar Named Desire," the most powerful image that comes to mind is that of Brando standing on the sidewalk, shouting that infamous line. It's not the word, "Stella," that is imprinted in the mind. It is how Brando says "Stella." The obvious torment in his face - those raw, animalistic expressions - those are the images that I always remember...and no amount of words could convey emotion on that level.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
How I Sometimes Write Poetry.
It's really easy for me to write poetry. Some of my poetry comes from real, true emotion. That is, I'm feeling very strongly about something and need to get it out, and it comes out as poetry.
A lot of my poetry, though, I just write it. I can look at random groups of words and objects and just create an emotion out of them for me to write about. Is that wrong? I don't know. It's artificial emotion, yes, but it's still emotion where none existed before. And as long as it could potentially mean something to someone else, does it even matter?
This is something I think about frequently.
I'll give you an example of how I can just write something.
I'll take 5 words that I see from stuff around me:
Green
Pillow
Sock
Cross
Railing
It's 10:38 PM as I write this. Let's see how long it takes me to create something out of those words:
I watch her, fast asleep, head tucked snugly into my pillow.
I rise from the bed to pick up a sock strewn across the window sill; half way across the room, I turn and look.
I can't stop watching her.
Though she sleeps, I still see her eyes, a deep, rain forest green, pulling me into her soul.
I cross the room again, this time to the deck outside.
As I lean on the railing, I watch her still.
Waiting.
Forever.
For always.
For the moment her eyes drift open, and she pulls me in again.
I felt the emotion as I was writing it. I imagined every little detail of the room. Of the man. Of the woman. But nothing before and nothing after. Just random words into a small scene in my head. Is that really poetry? I don't know. But I like doing it.
A lot of my poetry, though, I just write it. I can look at random groups of words and objects and just create an emotion out of them for me to write about. Is that wrong? I don't know. It's artificial emotion, yes, but it's still emotion where none existed before. And as long as it could potentially mean something to someone else, does it even matter?
This is something I think about frequently.
I'll give you an example of how I can just write something.
I'll take 5 words that I see from stuff around me:
Green
Pillow
Sock
Cross
Railing
It's 10:38 PM as I write this. Let's see how long it takes me to create something out of those words:
I watch her, fast asleep, head tucked snugly into my pillow.
I rise from the bed to pick up a sock strewn across the window sill; half way across the room, I turn and look.
I can't stop watching her.
Though she sleeps, I still see her eyes, a deep, rain forest green, pulling me into her soul.
I cross the room again, this time to the deck outside.
As I lean on the railing, I watch her still.
Waiting.
Forever.
For always.
For the moment her eyes drift open, and she pulls me in again.
I felt the emotion as I was writing it. I imagined every little detail of the room. Of the man. Of the woman. But nothing before and nothing after. Just random words into a small scene in my head. Is that really poetry? I don't know. But I like doing it.
(It took 13 minutes)
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