in the air: my big secret piano piece from that cheesy, artsy piano movie that kept catching all that flack from the over-analytical masses. anyway-- yea-- sure i'm not bitter.
i had a good time. it was nice. i was actually on time-- no, no, i was EARLY! can you beat that? whooo nanny. there was an abundance of food, mainly dessert items and all was well.
we watched --with an unheard of running commentary to be had by all-- two movies. both foreign.. both subtitled ((and rightfully so)) both films hailing from east asian countries: china and japan. The first movie was Hero, starring Jet Li and about four or five other great actors. i know i'm going to have to watch it again some time. the re-emergence of sharon into the ever-changing social circle is bringing film talk back into the forefront of my interest and my amateur take on le cinema.
but i digress, Hero was really quite a fashionable movie. on this, my first viewing, i walked away with all these grand ideas decorated on such a grand scale. i walked away with a deeper sense of flowy fabric, REAL martial arts fight scenes, fantastic color symbology and a certain excitement for the one versus the many concept. so yea. i really dug it for the way it made me look with my eyes and feel with my... self--? yea something like that.
the next movie was the-- the-- i want to say director's cut-- of the movie Battle Royale. this was the second opportunity i've had to see the flick. there were a few scenes which i actually remember not being there. this is a pretty big deal for me in my own head because i never --or hardly ever-- notice the "director's cut" scenes. so yea. funny that it had to be a kind of sarcastic, slasher movie that this happens. so yea so both of these movies definitely possessed that comic book quality of story, composition of shot/frame, even characterization. both comicky but not even the same comic-book level. like one would be more comic book and the other would be like 'graphic novel'. which i mean, come on folks, we're talking about the same thing but attempting to also draw some sort of dilineation between one and the other. it's like the difference between like having some really nice chablis whose name you can hardly pronounce and then the boxed wine. not that boxed wine is necessarily all that terrible really (is chablis even wine or am i just proving how little i know about stuff again?) i mean.. if you don't happen to be like a wine conossieur (conossieur?) :::: oh bleh. what am i saying? um um um um.. i'm saying. i had fun and these were fun movies to watch with the company i kept tonight.. earlier.. whatever!!
its three:fortyfive in the morning. how did i become this person who keeps these terribly awful hours? and feels these terrible feelings? today was me searching for something, i didn't know what. i was leafing through a kind of a comatosed journal i have. i never seem to finish them or something. i get to the middle of more than the middle of one and then i move on to another. i'm all out of order! in any case i was rifling through this one i kept sporadically through the mid-nineties to now. gah, what is that? that's terrifically (terrifically?) drawn-out to the furthest ends, eh? yes well.. so i'm leafing through them and rereading bits n' pieces and trying to get my memory going or jogged or something and for i don't know what reason.
then, oh this takes the cake-- then i find an old eighth grade diary tape i made. ok, a little backstory on this casette tape making thing. i'm an only child (on a technicality) and so i was alone a lot of my young life. we lived in the city in a rented house two blocks away from like one of the main streets of lower richmond. anyway. i played indoors a lot and so it only follows that a lot of the games and toys i played with revolved around the non-toy-like objects in the home. one of these toys happened to be either the family turn table or the radio and casette tape player/recorder. so ok. i spent a good portion of my young life performing to an imaginary audience ((perhaps that's why this type of thing comes so easy)). but performance and reality would sometimes vie for my attentive and active mind. so, i made a lot of little recordings of me talking, of the radio, of me singing along to the radio or one of our records in the meager selection (beegees, michael jackson, elvis and filipino music). when i got older and started moving around a lot more i didn't have to stay home and make tapes all damn day. i actually got to be out in the wild. i got to play real games, with real toys in real parks and have real adventures!
so now, fast forward because i'm starting to forget what the point of all this was. i found a tape i made when i was about thirteen and in the eighth grade. there are parts sometimes where i play deejay, intro-ing and talking about a song before and/or after. then there is a protion where i absently tape myself listening to another tape. then i talk. and some of the things i'm saying sounds real disturbing and difficult to listen to because "uh hullo, i'm thirteen and all dramatise personae".. yea anyway i discovered some small details about myself and my character which i had totally forgotten about. like in one portion of the tape i'm talking about instincts and the need to rely on them and to depend on them and to trust them. i talk about my concerns and in this tone of voice that is just so.... i don't know. it makes me cringe a little. i honestly had not listened to this thing in so long that i really didn't know what to expect. i do that sometimes. and i also tend to give myself witnesses for these non pre-screened things. toni was in the car with me listening. she said she was disturbed by it for some reason. she asked me why i was laughing at my pain. and i said, because i'm not that person anymore. but of course that's just a crock because some of the things that i claimed as absolutes are still words that i live by. like that whole say it enough and you start to believe it thing.
i have such a warped sense of what is normal. toni and i had a good laugh, though, over the fact that, according to her, "we can now pin-point exactly when things started to go wrong for me". this of course was after we heard me say that i had no one to talk to and that i had so many things to say and that i was just going to record myself and then play it back and analyze/diagnose myself. and i think the only reason i said that was because i was still reeling from the shock of no longer being a child. i had just turned thirteen and i guess to my mind it was the beginning of the end, so to speak. oh how i lamented the turn. i remember crying over it in the hallway of my friend's house in l.a. one weekend. my uncle (my friend's dad who is actually a family friend from back in the old neighborhood on the island) discovered me there and thought my tears were merely over having no one to play with. he was close to the truth but not close enough. i felt silly to tell anyone about it so i wrote it down somewhere.. that i was just sitting, minding my own business when the dreadful thought of growing old had siezed me. little did he know, those tears were over having no one who understood what it meant: the death of an era; the end of carelessness.
so that's pretty much it. i wish i could end on something more profound than this but i can't. the wish remains ungranted
3:17 a.m. - 2003-08-01
Recent entries:
oday.html">the 3 month countdown begins - 05 May 2018
anothrburst.html">another burst - this used to be my playground
newlife.html">begin at the beginning. - 10 April 2008
moody.html">a blanket for a bad mood under the sun. - 25 March 2007
emilludwig.html">...kissing a fool... - 05 December 2006
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