Traces Archives

CL, I must thank you for your Teshigahara recommendations! I sat down to THE FACE OF ANOTHER Sunday evening and was again simply blown away! The images are still with me and I know they will remain for a long time to come. I certainly count both he and his films among my favorites.

A palpable 60s aesthetic (the bar scenes), some of the most arresting sequences I've seen (the brother and sister at the beach), the interior of the psychiatrist's office, and so much more. Perhaps a podcast on this as well? JY

Several new films as of late, the most notable being Teshigahara's WOMAN IN THE DUNES (listen to podcast No.42). I also saw Anderson's new one and LARS AND THE REAL GIRL by Craig Gillespie. The latter is a brilliant charcter study of loneliness and compensation. Ryan Gosling is one of the great, underrated actors of current cinema; his performance alone makes this film worthwhile. On the other hand, THE DARJEELING LIMITED left me a bit cold. The film seemed too contrived in places and its characters uneasy with one another (not in the sense of the narrative, but as an ensemble cast). Whereas Rushmore's music is deftly cued and incorporated, Darjeeling's soundtrack seems an ill-fit and gratuitous in places.

Lumet's BEFORE THE DEVIL KNOWS YOU'RE DEAD boasts some fine performances, but lacks something as well. Although Lumet expertly crafts the dismantling of a "perfect crime," the narrative content is not commensurate with the stylized architecture. The ending is questionable both aesthetically and narratively. A bit of a disappointment.

Starting Eugene O'Neill (MOURNING BECOMES ELECTRA). I've seen a few filmic adaptations, but have never read his work. Therefore, this is a real treat! His dialogue is tight and masterfully controlled; no word is out of place. Deeply compelling! JY

I have been thinking quite a bit about Dante and his relationship with literary figures and heroes from antiquity. Certainly Virgil stands out as his guide, mentor, and example of poetic excellence. In many ways it seems as if Dante wanted to create a bridge between the ancient and the modern for his readers. By placing him in this role or text Virgil’s literary accomplishments will never be lost to readers of Dante. It also suggests that Dante never dismissed the allure and artistic brilliance of the ancient world.

The other individual would be Ulysses, who is placed deep in hell. A towering figure whose exploits in life are known to be legendary and heroic. If Virgil represents the world of ideas, then Ulysses represents a world of action and discovery. Here Dante must refrain and let Virgil speak to him. His admiration is evident, but also dangerous. Dante is aware that Ulysses has charted new territory and devoted his life to self-discovery. The only real difference lies in their spiritual beliefs. Dante’s world is a Christian world. His achievements hopefully will bring him closer to God. Ulysses’ can only be self serving, and yet Dante creates a very sympathetic picture of Ulysses. The silence, or what Dante does not say to Ulysses is what draws the reader in and makes the Inferno so mysterious and cosmic. These questions are meant to be pondered for ages.

Great conversations last night after class with fellow cineastes! Hopefully, we'll be able to put together a film group on campus for discussions, conversation and perhaps even screenings! Yes, looking forward to the next podcast with CL on Woman In The Dunes (I just received the boxed-set!). JY

Going to post a longer writing piece on Dante's view on Antiquity as he travels through the Inferno later this week...Also some thoughts and hopefully a podcast on Woman in the Dunes with JY soon...Teaching Ancient Chinese Poetry-so fitting during Autumn

The new Dot Allison is atmospheric. The Exaltation of Larks is perhaps a bit of a departure from her previous sound, less beat-driven, though certainly no less satisfying. Her voice is evocation, maintaining a gossamer-like quality, like an ethereal whisper. A great disc!

Been listening to a lot of Mojave 3 lately as well. I never tire of their sound, especially Neil's voice (and Rachel's harminozation). The lyrics are tender, melancholy, playful, sullen...I was a bit dismissive of Excuses for Travelers at first, but the compilation is really satisfying, especially the haunting and painful "My Life In Art." Recently, Neil played a set with Mark Kozelek in the U.K. Perhaps he/they will make a trip back across the Atlantic. One can hope...Thanks C for introducing me to this great band back in '99! JY

Great time at the pub last night, talking about art, politics, Dante, and travel! Oh, what plans and places are set for the future! Many poeple to meet and to share with...a life adventure made all the more richer by those souls yet unknown...JY

The large halls, the merriment, wine, food, lovely Queens, old tales, the boasting, the reflection. Never stray too far from the primal campfire-darkness. A culture mourns its premature death.Casketboats float into infinity, decked with jewels, swords, armor, poems. A hero senses his own end:

Alone with his longing, he lies down on his bed and sings a lament; everything seems too large, the steadings and the fields.

Utopia today was a great time! The film selections in the Urban/Rural Landscapes segment were incredible! They ranged from thought-provoking to hypnotic. This is the hope for cinema today, the innovative, creative minds who dare to produce such art that challenges the established norms of today's complacent, uninspired culture. It was great to see several friends from school who were in attendance as well, which certainly highlighted the fantastic turnout for today's screenings. Already looking ahead to 2008! JY

"Audible Landscapes" is a foray into the intrinsic beauty of natural sound(s). The collection is a wonderful testament to CL's artistry, not too mention his discerning ear for rhythm and melody. The tracks have been previously featured on MV as either podcasts or Listening Room pieces, but when one experiences the collection as a whole, it will become evident that there exists a sublime connectedness that ties all the pieces together into a fluid composition. Incredible music! JY

I wrote in brief about Wong Kar-wai about a year-and-a-half ago, but, prompted by the conversation last Thursday evening, I felt compelled to watch IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE again (a viewing I wanted to revist). I am even more amazed by the beauty and quiet poetry of this film. Kar-wai's brilliant configurations of tight internal spaces reflect the isolation and loneliness that are palpable for both Mr. Chow and Mrs. Chan, despite their budding romance. I've mentioned the soundtrack before and certainly the music bears mention again. The "western" sound couldn't pace the slow motion and panning shots more perfectly and precisely; the music actually continues the tacit dialogue spoken by the two. Each shot is gorgeously lush (though never overdone) and carefully orchestrated to reflect the rising emotional tensions. Mrs. Chan's dresses often mark this internal struggle, as their colors and patterns often starkly contrast the floral patterns of the wallpaper lining her flat. Her slender silhouette is subtly erotic and effectively breaks up the rigid boundaries of her confining physical space. Moreover, Mr. Chan's easy, fluid movements and posture possess a poetry of their own, a perfect compliment to his lover's body language. Interestingly, even though the characters' motions are integral to the film's architecture, it is perhaps the many static frames that add the most weight to the narrative, for this is indeed a film of reflection and deep contemplation. I cannot recommend this masterpiece enough! JY

Yes, great run in the early autumn air (though it did warm up) and picked up some fantastic, hard-to-find titles at the New Carrollton Library book sale...JY

An afternoon of sacred music: Bruckner's Te Deum and Rachmaninov's Vespers, Op. 37 -JY

Another incredible evening after class. Great conversation with great company. Discussed art, music, literature, ah, and especially music. The wonder and spiritual beauty of Bruckner's symphonies; his self-directed fastidiousness. So much inner turmoil that transformed into inspiration and produced such unparalleled sound. And the talk of films...especially Wong Kar-wai and IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE, the sublime beauty of his images, the emotion of his amazing soundtrack. And then there's Lynch!

Cherishing those moments in a passage of text, a scene in a film, a section of a composition, we love to return to them over and over again because these artists are able to present us something new and breathtaking with each revisit(ing) of their (particular) works. Art can permeate and edify the soul if one is willing to open up to its gentle voice. A great evening and looking forward to Utopia...JY

THE ROOM IS AWARE is a sublime piece of music! Also enjoying Schumann lieder on a beautiful fall morning! Great time at Franklin's last night; it seemed like ages since I was last there!

10/11-07-

The first six books of the Aeneid present the reader with many universal themes that were found in Homer: Heroism; loyalty to country; the importance of the Gods; and friendship. What I find fascinating and refreshing about Vergil is that he manages to honor or imitate the Homeric tradition, and yet add something completely new and artistic. This is evident in Aeneas’s relationship with Dido. Here we feel remorse for the pain and tragedy that both lovers must endure. For Aeneas, he has no choice; it is his destiny to build Rome, but as readers we are distressed by his plight. Vergil manages to make Aeneas valiant in the Homeric tradition, but also sympathetic. He seems too human and pensive at times to be leader, and this is Virgil’s strength as a poet I feel.

In Dido’s case, she is not shown as a one dimensional female caricature, but a proud queen who has lost her love and hope. Through Dido, Virgil creates areas of emotional depth in the text that were not found in Homer. Virgil may have been suggesting that destiny or fate is stronger than individual love, but as a poet, the individual loss is still felt by the reader, and should not be glossed over. This compassionate approach to life is what I find so appealing about Virgil and the Aeneid.

Monday October 08, 2007
01:36 PM

The sweet melancholy ofPatricia Kaas

Spending a quiet Sunday afternoon revisiting MD SONGS 1 and LYRICS REMEMBERED by CL. Wolf lieder in the background...

I HATE this heat in October, and of course we know what is causing this abnormality, which has unfortunately become the norm! JY

Finishing Homer's ODYSSEY; deep into Nietzsche's "Birth of Tragedy" and THE TRAGEDY KING LEAR, Act V. JY

10/5/07-Finally reading Virgil after all these years....His influence on Dante is everywhere...Aeneas in the age of Augustus-mirror images.

Saw DEEP WATER tonight, which was an incredibly moving documentary of Donald Crowhurst's attempt to reconcile his imminent failure with a desperate attempt at vindication. I don't want to reveal the turn of events, but I can say that, at least in some measure, I understand how a man/woman might come to know his/her soul while navigating the ferocious, unforgiving sea. The archival footage is well-edited and through the tragic turn of events, the film reveals just how pernicious was the media's influence on the situation. For me, Crowhurst is sort of a tragic hero insofar as the circumstances in which he was hopelessly immersed irrevocably forced his hand to make decisions that affected everyone around him, even though he was completely isolated from human contact. Deeply compelling! JY

Is the Iliad an anti-war poem or does it glorify war for entertainment purposes? The Iliad is work of art that certainly does not romanticize war. Homer clearly shows the futility of war and its consequences on a society. He also presents us with real soldiers who rise to the challenge and behave admirably. This is the conflict or tension in the work itself. It is one the reasons why the work is considered a classic and a work of art.

The graphic depictions of battle in no way glorify fighting; in fact they show the butchery and madness of war. The soldiers who lose their lives all have names and families. Homer clearly wants the reader or the listener to identify with the fallen on some level. In doing this, Homer rises above mere entertainment or romanticism. He really wants us feel that this loss is lasting and war is pernicious. Homer also presents us with a city under siege. The glory of warfare is minimal. What we are shown here is suffering and chaos. There is no real victory march. Revenge will not bring back the departed.

Another interesting element of the poem is the way the heroes are viewed. Achilles, Ajax, Hector, Agammenon are all powerful, legendary figures, and yet their victories, or losses as in the case of Hector, are dimmed by tragedy and sadness and lead to their ultimate demise. There is certainly irony here, but I feel there is a message also. Even the most gifted, godlike characters cannot escape the futility of war. CL

We leave Hektor upon the funeral pyre and Achilleus awaiting his ultimate demise...but the journey is far from over...for Odysseus.

The wind flowing through the trees, late at night, beckoning the arrival of fall. The leaves, like listening to the waves of the ocean gently lapping the edge of the shore. JY

Drinks after class the other night at the local bar was an awesome experience. Meeting other "Johnnys," as the students are called. Deep discussion over drinks: breaking down Mozart's Requiem, talking of Graham Greene and W. Somerset Maugham, John Ford, politics, and the nature of God. The evening out was an extension of class, reflecting that we carry these ideas with us always. Eager to talk, to share, to be inspired...

Achilles was tormented by this very human act of "questioning." His speech on death and the meaninglessness of material prizes is both trenchant and deeply poignant. From the Lattimore translation (1951):

Of possessions
cattle and fat sheep are things to be had for the lifting,
and tripods can be won, and the tawny high heads of horses,
but a man's life cannot come back again, it cannot be lifted
nor captured again by force, once it has crossed the teeth's barrier.

Reading the second half of the Iliad has once again brought to life the age old question of what it means to be a hero. Homer’s depiction of Achilles, arguably the greatest warrior in the Greek camp, is still fascinating and complex. We are presented with a hero who does not doubt his abilities as a warrior, but one who questions the purpose of having the abilities. A warrior who could see his own fate, but not the fate of his most trusted friend, Patroclus. The death of Patroclus is the only reason Achilles decides to fight again. If Patroclus was spared would Achilles remain neutral? A troubling question no doubt because it does not really fit our definition of heroism today.

A closer reading has helped me focus on a few characters whom I feel exhibit characteristics of heroism in and off the battlefield. The decision of Patroclus to wear the armor of Achilles and engage in warfare was a noble gesture. Certainly self-sacrifice falls under the category of heroism in our society and probably with the Greeks as well. I find the reaction of the Greeks after Patroclus’s defeat as a testament to this. In many ways, Patroclus was not given a fair shot. The Gods interfered with his battle with Hector and he was killed, highlighting the tragedy and his heroism.

In a more subtle gesture, Odysseus also displays elements of heroism. In book 19 he informs Achilles that the men should eat a proper meal and have some wine before the next battle. This will replenish their spirits and hopefully energize them for battle. Achilles finds the request ridiculous and offensive. Yet it reveals that Odysseus has concern for the men and their safety. Homer may have felt that heroism is not always linked to physical prowess or victories in battle, but also to intellectual insight and good council.CL

Headlong into antiquity. The problems of pride, loss and suffering, though immortalized with the heroes, are no different from the pain that afflicts all of humankind today. But the plight of the hero is reflective of something more. They are deeply introspective at times, philosophical even. The speeches are indicative of uncertainty and resignation, but what brought these great men to their knees? Blind fury in some instances, wounded pride in others, but all the same, we too are moved to try to understand from what well such anguish should flow. Beautiful Achilles, blinded Ajax, the vanquished...JY

9/4/07-

A wide array of texts these days-The Ancients (for class) along with theories about the modern (personal). In a later post, I would like to explore some of their similarities and concepts Poggioli's book addresses. He has some interesting ideas about movements in the Avant-Garde and how they differ from tendencies or sects. More on this later, but his take on the relationship between Avant-Garde and civilisization is worth exploring. I have just started...CL

The first day of classes was great! Back on campus, atmosphere of deep contemplation and camaraderie. Meeting new people, a different way of conducting classes...all very positive. I look forward to developing my mind further over the course of the next two years...and beyond! JY

Summer nearly over...The urge to travel again has not waned...Vast islands of green calling, quite hours in the morning garden, floating on the channel. CL

Is it absurd that I should crave and long for the loneliness that accompanied me on my travels? There is a certain freedom in solitude that is notably absent in the other aspects of our existence. JY

Another summer prepares for departure, and I feel a tinge of sadness for it. Of course, when I talk about summer, I don't mean to imply that I will miss the oppressive heat and humidity. No, what I will miss are the the languid summer evenings that are ripe with all sorts of memories from past summers. The end of the season would mark a return to school and yet another year closer to adulthood and its accompanying responsibilities. Is this nostalgia due in part to the possible fact that perhaps borne on the gentle summer breeze that infuses the night air are the sweet fragrances of a past youth, floating just out our aging reach to flutter away into the vastness of the starry, night sky?...JY

His films are like Paintings with bits of sound, long takes, haunting tracking shots and absences.

Antonioni respected the mysteries, the abstract, the intellect in his films, and he respected the audience who traveled with him.

"Film as dream, film as music. No art passes our conscience in the way film does, and goes directly to our feelings, deep down into the dark rooms of our souls." Ingmar Bergman 1918-2007

I still recall watching Fanny and Alexander late one cold, winter night and being totally mesmerized. I was an English major, films were not supposed to be as profound as Shakespeare. I was 18 years old.

I have not watched a Berman film in quite some time, yet his images always return in some form or other.

Shame, Persona, Winter Light, The Silence, Through a Glass Darkly, Autumn Sonata, Smiles of a Summer Night, The Seventh Seal, Summer with Monika, Hour of the Wolf, The Virgin Spring, I could go on.

An audience member, after seeing Massive Antiques, my first attempt at film, said it reminded him of Bergman.

What a set of performances! How often is it that one say he/she has been treated to Tchaikovsky's 1st and Rachmaninov's 3rd (piano concerti) in the same evening, with the latter's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini to boot?! Last night's competition was fierce and it was great to see the crowd really get behind each performer, for each deserved the highest praise for their virtuosity. I left before the judgment was made, for I didn't think it fair that a winner should be crowned, though Ms. Gulyak was my pick and she was awarded the top prize for this year's competition. Her playing was dramatic, nuanced, sensitive and bold, but perhaps, above all, impassioned. To listen to the sound produced by her gifted hands was a privilege indeed. Her interpretation of Rachmaninov's sweeping, romantic piece was sublime and deeply moving. Simply awesome! In my humble opinion, no other composer has celebrated the marriage between orchestra and solo piano like Rachmaninov was able to. His compositions as such are akin to the language spoken by two lovers who communicate through everything but words. Glances, thoughts, breaths, a touch, caress, nothing needs to be said. All these gestures materialized from the notes written by this incredible genius, brought to life by this amazing soloist and the musicians sharing the stage with her.

This time last year I was in Vancouver watching beautiful, longing sunsets and taking leisurely walks in the cool night air by the water. I miss Canada and her welcoming embrace. For a couple of hours, especially during the last 45 minutes of the concert, I was back, walking and reveling in a foreign land...JY

Ah those halcyon summers of youth! Continuing with the theme of youth from a few weeks ago...The camaraderie I feel with the new coworkers has led me back into my childhood when my friends and I spent those carefree days riding bikes, playing baseball, basketball, running, all until dark. There was nothing like a late-night bike ride around the neighborhood, making all kinds of non-sensical, youthful displays of derring-do and the such. The closeness was abiding and easy to maintain, for we saw one another on a daily basis, always meeting on the ball field or streets or at the neighborhood park. There was always some excitement (excitement at least for a 12 year old!) brewing that got our adrenalin flowing! And the childhood crushes! Why must innocence recede into responsiblity and the ennui of routine? I look back and wonder where all my childhood friends and acquaintances have settled, raising children of their own, no doubt, to experience the delicious freedom that was once their (ours) to savor. Nostalgia, bittersweet, heartbreaking... JY

Another fantastic run, this on Bastille Day! The morning was cool, but heated up steadily. So, by the time we were through the coolness had dissipated into the mid-morning heat. Nevertheless, the heat did not detract from the awesome views enjoyed along the various points along the path. The scenery reminded me of Stanley Park in Vancouver, with the water stretching into the horizon of the distant city. Great time! I encourage YOU to join us, MV patrons, if not here, then wherever you may be. Enjoy the beauty of your surroundings! JY

Great run yesterday morning at Sligo Creek Park with CL. The temp. hadn't yet risen to its stifling high for the day, so the morning(7:30 A.M.)was still relatively cool. The trail wound through some lovely natural scenery, punctuated by several small bridges, and the quiescence of our surroundings was broken only by our intermittent speaking voices. The past couple have Saturdays have been highlighted by such wonderful backgrounds! We've managed to brainstorm some great ideas for the site, as well, during these relaxing, invigorating runs. Looking forward to the Bastille Day run down in D.C. next Sat. A.M. Hopefully, we'll be able to attract others to this delightful routine we've just begun. JY

A long absence...but perhaps necessary in order to provoke the desire to record those ever present thoughts about so many things. I will expound further in tomorrow's podcast about this, but I have to say that today's run downtown was both ivigorating and inspiring. The scenery, the talks, companions, future plans, physical activity, all of it!

I have been thinking a lot about my childhood the past couple of months and not without reason, or perhaps "provocation." I saw this woman and something about her face sparked a moment of remembrance, though not of her, but of another. (This mode of visual association was the focus of Kundera's IDENTITY.) The features of her face were similar: the sharp eyes, aqualine nose, the way her muscles contracted around her mouth as she smiled, the smooth, delicated skin that brought all her pretty features together in a harmonious flow. Suddenly, I was 4 (or 5) once again, being pulled about in a small wagon, pushed on a swingset, pampered over by this beautiful, kind, fun-loving young girl who must have been 9 or 10. Of course, my recollection is sharpened by the few photos that were taken on that sunny day in the neighborhood park. The camera used (circa 1970s!) was rudimentary at best, so the features are blurred due to the hazy resolution, but the memory of her begins to fill in the empty spaces, sharpening the aged photos as the amalgam of images begins to carry me forward in a rapid succession of time throughout my adolescent and early teen years (while she blossomed into an alluring young woman),during which time I played baseball with her younger sister and the other kids, or simply saw them taking evening walks throughout the neighboorhood (though I remember seeing her older sister only once, in a doorway). As is often the case in such instances, I feel strong waves of nostalgia wash over my memories of her, and all because of a glimpse of a similar face, unrelated to her youthful visage that has repopulated the corridors of my mind. It is somewhat bittersweet, for I wonder where she is now; 1974 was so long ago. Oh, that age should never erase the innocent, simple pleasure of such childhood remembrances is an indulgent wish! JY

6/19/07-Back to writing-I have neglected this due to an amazing amount of work this spring-HSA prep for students, and my own classes and exams. How I managed to complete two films, make music and sounds, and have a few screenings is beyond me. Anyway, with Autumn JY and I plan to develop more substantial text, both original and critical. That is not to say Summer will not be productive-podcasts, sounds, films, writing and some additions and subtractions are due. More contributions from others as well.

I have returned from another weekend excursion to my beloved Toronto and am already experiencing that familiar longing to return. The weather was gorgeous: sunny, temperate, inviting. I've written about a couple events I was fortunate enough to have experienced while there, but my most memorable excursion, one which will stay with me, was one almost forgone. I didn't know if N-would be there, but she was, as radiant, sweet, and alluring as I had remembered from my previous trip. She greeted me with such enthusiasm and genuine gladness; I was touched. And our parting made my departure the next day all the more difficult, bittersweet. I will always remember her gracious gestures and words spoken before our "goodbye" as more than I could have ever hoped for as I sat contemplating whether to ask her that question that was weighing on my nervous, anxious mind a few moments earlier. I almost didn't, but then again, it was a day for rewarding those efforts that nearly never materialized. I don't think I'll stop thinking of her for some time. Nor would I want to. JY

The following is a commentary on the Washington Post article that is posted on the Forum Page detailing the "experiment" that was set up in which renowned violinist Joshua Bell performed incognito at the L'Enfant Plaza metro station one January morning. I encourage everyone to read it, for it is certainly interesting, with an intriguing premise, but I daresay the folks at the Post who conceived it have allowed their bourgeois "sensitivity" (or should I write "insensitivity")to shine forth. The idea was to see how many people would pause their busy, regimented journey to work in order to listen to this celebrated artist (though, of course, this fact was unbeknownst to them) perform some of the most beautiful music composed; you know, the whole "diamond in the rough" idea. It is apparent that the writers felt D.C. would offer a fair demographic of upper-middle class professionals who would possess some degree of cultural exposure in order to serve as qualified guinea pigs for their experiment. And I'm glad they were proven wrong.

This has been the most formidable predication that has done such a disservice to art, especially music, that financial well-being and affluence equates with artistic sensibility and should therefore be enjoyed and exhibited only by the privileged few. It is clear that the writers were aiming to see if a response could be provoked if the pieces were performed as exquisitely as by Mr. Bell, almost as if he could lift the compositions above their "station" so to speak. Well, that transcendence occurred the moment the composer conceived its existence. True, Mr Bell's expert technique, exquisite phrasing and sensitive interpretation enhance the spirit of the piece, but its performance by a lesser musician does not diminish its artistic merits. And please, one cannot throw around a line or two of Kant, Hume or Liebnitz as justification for a half-baked hypothesis. Their discourses are complex, intricate examinations of aesthetics and humanity and cannot be taken out of context as egregiously as they were in this instance. Again, recall the whole argument in the article regarding the painting and framing. Yes, our society today worships monetary value and that fact alone should serve as a shameful example, not a positive affirmation, of how society chooses to view art as a commodity bearing ownership. Whether or not a painting hangs on the wall of a museum should be immaterial when considering the work. Unfortunately, society chooses this form of validation (monetary) when considering the question,"What is art?" However, not all is lost. More and more artists are bypassing the establishment in order to bring their creativity into existence. Indeed, this is a tremendous movement that must keep surging forward.

And then there's the title "Pearls Before Breakfast." Notice the allusion to both the Biblical parallel about throwing pearls before swine and the Shakespearean reference from Othello. The article could have served better had it assumed the responsibility of criticizing the notion that wealth breeds cultural sensibility, but it doesn't really make such a statement. Instead, it does the opposite by resuming its posture that because Bell wasn't recognized for his brilliant musicianship (Allow me to clarify that I am not criticizing Bell for his participation in this experiment. I enjoy his playing very much.), a grave insult has been hurled at one of the giants of the classical music scene, as manifested by, of course, the exiguous amount of money layed in his violin case. How can the Post writers consider themselves responsible journalists? Bell is a millionaire several times over. As the writers were quick to point out, he has played before royalty and commands sold out performances worldwide. That the patron at the end who recognized Bell should shamefully, apologetically question the plausibility of such a paltry sum of donations in the Nation's Capital, the Capital of America's Enlightened Soul, only emphasizes the shortsightedness that abounds within our materialistic, shallow culture. Again, measure all value in dollar amounts. Pathetic.

What the patrons should be flagellating themselves over is that they didn't recognize the art itself. When interviewed, Slatkin stated that in Europe the results would be different, and they would be. I'm sure the world-over they would have been. People need to be taught to appreciate art for what it is and for what it does for humanity, and not for how much for which it can be bought or sold. Yes, people are too busy to notice beauty these days, though we are immersed in it. Just take a second to consider the architecture that comprises our cities and the intrinsic beauty of nature. Writers, painters, musicians, filmmakers...artists have been celebrating such things in their works for centuries and will continue to do so. The incomprehensible offense here is not that Joshua Bell only netted $32.17 for his public performance(as posted by the Post), but that people were simply too busy to take in a moment of breathtaking beauty. This fact alone should cue people into the great disconnect that lies between our society and education. We cannot and must not presume that a person's financial status is in any way indicative of his/her ability to appreciate art and culture. Such snobbery and elitism, exhibited by such thought processes, though typical, are shameful and inexcusable! JY

It's amazing to see all the churches that now utilize scrolling electronic "billboards" to advertise their services. More often than not, the message scrolling across the screen is nothing more than some jaded, cheesy message or rhyme about God and/or some reason you should be attending. Why has Christianity (or should I write, "followers of Christianity?"), unlike other religions, debased itself to a facade resembling disposable consumerism? How can anyone possibly summarize the tenets of this spiritual philosophy in one brief, throw-away idiom? Perhaps the ubiquity of such religious advertising is indicative of American culture in general, which requires its daily rationing of edification to be served in small, bite-sized phrases and images, for it cannot properly digest more substantial, profound "soul" foodstuffs (I am not trying to make a play on words here!). The American attention span is growing ever shorter by the day, and when such sources of spiritual refuge cater to this handicap, the question, "Nihilo sanctum estne?" must be seriously considered.

One must keep in mind that hypocrisy runs deep in the heart and soul of organized religion. After all, how can the same evangelicals who profess a love for God, deny the manmade destruction of His handiwork? How, Mr. Pat Robertson, is Global Warming not a moral issue? You and your other narrow, small-minded cohorts always come back to the "destruction of the family unit" as a "moral" theme demanding the attention of the people. But I ask you this: Has a gay or lesbian marriage ever threatened the life of one individual, or thrown one young adult into the path of a speeding bullet or IED? Your same followers who profess a belief and adherence to Christian dogma are the same ones blowing up abortion clinics and killing innocent bystanders. How can you say that a woman exercising her right of choice is a grave moral offense, whereas the rampant profligacy (spending)that infects your Sunday congregations and manifests itself in the hastening of the destruction of this planet is not? Are not all the animals and other life-forms being deprived of sanctuary and refuge either via hyper real estate development or Global Warming God's creatures as well? Or do you not count their voices since they cannot read your flashy electronic sings or tithe their earnings to your already burgeoning pockets? And lastly, please tell me how the killing of millions of innocent Iraqis in any way exemplifies Christ's commandment to "love thy neighbor?" I have not seen one billboard, sign or electronic message calling for our troops to return from this bloody debacle. Hypocrisy, hypocrisy, hypocrisy. JY

3/7/07-Nightrun around the still lake (not a soul around). I had my Ipod on me, but decided against it-desired silence, ambience, the sound of the metro train, the sound of my feet on the wet path, the sound of breathing. The last winter run of the season, probably. The snow and the sky made it impeccable. Near the end, coming around the airport runway, I saw three deer staring right at me. I stopped. I noticed behind them about 12 or 15 slowly crossing the runway as well. I waited. They moved pensively across, I picked up the pace after the last.CL

Amazing day on the mall! I strolled for hours around the memorials, pretending to be a tourist. If you are a winter lover(I am) this was too good to be true. The light in the afternoon, the snow, the frozen Potomac, a few people were actually ice skating on the mall-I found it very difficult to leave-took some photos(battery was dying in the camera, typical). Sipping coffee-some lines: In Silence, we share reflections, a few seconds, back to notes, to temporary snow. CL

Listening to Chopin's Ballade #2 is like listening to a gentle snowfall, with intermittent gusts of cold air blowing the flakes randomly about. Is there an emotive connection between music and climate? One is reflected in the other; are they not? JY

And speaking of snow: I am reminded of the scene in Reed's ODD MAN OUT in which we see Shel walk up the long flight of winding stairs that rise through the center of the dilapidated row house he shares with Tober and Lukey. There must be a sizeable hole in the roof, for snow is gently falling into the interior, a slow, cascading shower of white. Reed's composition here is absolutley gorgeous. I lose myself in this sequence everytime I see it! Look for more on this film later. JY

Though this post is a little behind the others, I feel that it is still relevant to the matter brought up several days ago by El Fearless. Yes, our site is dedicated to an open forum of intelligent thought and originality, but first and foremost, MV is committed to creativity and artisitic endeavors. While we welcome all sorts of discussion, including political, we don't encourage unsubstantiated rhetoric. Allow me to clarify. El Fearless, I'm sure you've visited the site enought times to realize where along the political spectrum our readership lies. Of course, you are certainly entitled to your opinion, but the Carter-bashing was too much, hence the vehement responses from several readers. You asked for some proof to refute the article, so I will provide some examples. I'm sure you're well aware that, and as one reader duly noted, Carter was awarded the Nobel Prize for peace for his continued work in Middle Eastern foreign policy. Remember too that during his administration he helped negotiate peace between Egypt and Israel, a feat that seemed impossible at the time! It's so easy for people to pull quotes and expressions out of context, making statements appear to be venemous and denigrating when in actuality they are quite innocuous. If one is open-minded enough to consider ALL sides of a conflict, able to empathize with the position of more than one involved party, is that person to be denounced as a traitor to the party with which s/he is directly affiliated? You see, simply because Carter is willing to understand and consider the Palestinian position doesn't make him anti-semitic. It seems that that phrase (anti-semitic) is in vogue these days, and frankly, it disgusts me. This country, whether it be due to ignorance, xenophobia, narcissism or a combination of all three is fond of labeling that which challenges its limited, narrow-minded sensibilities.

You claim that Americans are the most politically intelligent citizens in the world. I, along with most of the world, would wholeheartedly disagree with your assessment. Can you really say that with a senseless war continuing without an endpoint in sight, coupled with a skyrocketing buget proposal that will ask for $142 BILLION dollars in military spending, all is well with this country? Consider the great disparity in the budget allocation. Even with military spending having reached such mammoth proportions, the administration contiues to cut and dock the benefits of its military personnel! How is that justified? And look at the state of education and healthcare in this nation? Bush will propose to make the tax-cuts he put on the table permanent, ensuring the richest 1% of this nation stay wealthy while public schools suffer and millions remain uninsured. He wants the nation to break its dependence on foreign oil, but people continue to buy their Hummers and SUV's. Unless you encourage lifestyle adjustments, his proposed goals are nothing but empty words, which I'm certain they already are; they don't need unrealized "benchmarks" to prove them as such. Going back to Carter, remember it was he who proposed the 55mph speed limit in an effort to get motorists to use less fuel. He truly wanted Americans to shoulder the responsibility for their own consumption in an effort to break dependence on Mid-East oil. Bush is encouraging Americans to do the opposite. If you really want Americans to be more fuel-effiecient, you may have to force them into it. Try exorbitant surcharges on SUVs and large vehicles that consume commensurate amounts of fuel. But of course, that will never happen because the Auto lobby is too rich and influential. Which brings me to another point: lobbyists.

American politics is governed by all the wealthy special interest groups that lobby congress for favorable legislation to benefit their sole interests. Is it any wonder American government is so often likened to a massive, global corporation? Its mentality reflects the corporate avarice that poisons our nation's disheaveled economy. Get ahead regardless the cost! Be THE superpower. Invade anyone who gets in the way. When the former Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in 1979-80, what was Carter's response? Boycott the summer Olympic Games. When a border dispute "flared" between Denmark and Canada, were shots fired? No. Well, some "shots" may have been consumed, for the tete-a-tete involved both nations leaving bottles of scotch on the island as a gesture of peaceful resolution of the dispute. Is the U.S. capable of such diplomacy? At its best, of course and Carter proved that during his administration. However, we are now so far-removed from peace, it all seems a distant, fading dream. With the proposal for more troops, regardless of Congressional opposition, peace is not even on the agenda. And who put this man and his cronies into office? and twice? Our politically enlightened, superiorly intelligent citizens...

Remember too that Carter was a devout Christian, though he never tried to proselytize the nation to his system of beliefs. Actually, he often angered those of his faith with the legislation he supported, mainly E.R.A. Now I ask you, El Fearless, which man, Bush or Carter, would you say more closely adheres to the precepts established in Christ's Semon on the Mount (and I reference this Biblical passage because both men professed a faith that would impress upon them the need to dictate their lives according to this doctrine). So, El Fearless, while I encourage you to post as you have in the past, on art and the such, I ask that you please refrain from trying to proselytize the readership to a perspective that is so narrow and self-serving at its core. I know you are fond of quotes, so I will leave you with this from Thomas Jefferson:

"The care of human life and happiness, and not their destruction, is the first and only object of good government." JY

2/4/07-Lovely cloud formations this afternoon...Cold, but refreshing. Finally saw this, which is a masterpiece. I plan to write on Rivette soon, just astounding. Listening to some mixes from the Hamilton street sessions at the moment-some random lines-

(Thursday) The Toronto coastline at night, colorfully (and joyously) lit as far as the eye could see, was spectacular! Breathtaking! And the cold, crisp air...

(Saturday) The Distillery District was beautiful, the falling snow having laid a gentle blanket of white upon its cobblestone streets. A few new galleries have been added (the Japanese paper made from scratch was exquisite; its many colors and textures reminded me of Daisy's emotional response to Gatsby's extensive collection of fine shirts). What a pleasure it was to walk in, browse and frequently see an "ARTisan" at work. A perfect winter pastime: gallery-hopping! Lunched at a cozy, rustic cafe where I was greeted by a pretty hostess who was just as warm and friendly as her surroundings. Her conversation-like those held with the others I have had the good fortune to meet during my sojourn in this wonderful country-was enthusiastic, open and sincere.

But the weekend expired too quickly! Sadly, I left her as I did a year ago, with the Januaury snow falling during a quiet, late-Sunday morning. She kissed me gently and bade me farewell as I flew off into the distance, but I assured her that I would soon return... Ideas for Toronto podcast: the people (saw Mr. Mulligan again, and it was a nice "reunion" of sorts). Ahh, the cuisine and many, many quaint restaurants; the many advertisements encouraging people to visit the public libraries. But on the flip-side, Harper's proclamation that the Kyoto standards are too strict and therefore unrealistic and unattainable. The icecaps are melting off his own coasts, yet the blind-eye controls what the mind perceives. May it all change for the better...JY

Musing on how fast the days have been passing by, for we've already eclipsed the halfway point of the month. It's been a rich Jan. for cinema thus far, and I'm looking forward to many more screenings. The weather is uncharacteristically warm these days and though the reason is quite obvious, the "establishment" won't acknowledge the cause. How many more polar icecaps need to melt before people begin to take global warming seriously? Ah yes, the government chooses instead to concern itself with getting more bodies over to Iraq and spening billions more on our own "weapons of mass destruction." How many more lives are to be lost before this administration's bloodlust is satiated? A rhetorical question, I know.

*On a more optimistic note: I saw her again a few weeks ago. It has been nearly a year and I must say that none of her radiance and softness of figure have been lost. Strange how incidents come back recast as a new possibility. Of course, no particular outcome is ever guaranteed, but the sense of renewal, if you will, is always invigorating.

I've taken in so many images of beauty, splendor and repose in the art I've come across as of late: sublime images in film of internal landscapes; the heartache of loss; the joy of discovering something shared between two; photos like old friends making a reappearance, clad in different clothes, but retaining all of their charm and appeal of old. And there's so much more, and much more to happen upon. Prometheus: a study in compassion and obstinacy. Looking forward to visiting lovely Toronto once again, in the crisp, winter cold. Like being granted another opportunity to talk with that beautiful girl you met briefly on transit somewhere. You go back, eager, yet a bit nervous for what you will say. She's waiting, in all her welcoming splendor and kindness. JY

11/19/06-After a very stressful week, yesterday was amazing. Chilly November air-50 minute run-strolling around the city-caught the Joseph Cornell exhibit at the American Art Museum, which was incredibly inspiring, more on him later. Picked up wine, cheese, pate. Played music later, good sessions (no recordings though) topped it off with a few pints at Franklin's-Perfect.

I keep thinking of these "moments" in art that linger in my mind long after I have had the initial experience. I wonder if I do the work-as-a-whole an injustice by focusing my attention as such, but then again, perhaps not. For what is art if it is not an encapsulation, at least to some degree, of this tacit communication, however small, between itself and its audience? Those profound moments fill my day with beauty and I always yearn to visit them again, perhaps soon, perhaps when I'm older, and the comfort of knowing that "it," (the work), will be there is reassuring. Lines penned by Proust, a scene from THE THIRD MAN, a Schubert Impromptu, all, along with so many other examples, are a collective, indelible signature that attests to the power and influence of the creative genius that lifts humanity towards the Divine. In a world bent on degradation and self-destruction, the voice of the artist MUST be given a more prominent platform upon which to speak, to write, to sing, to create...

rain, a nice run,Berio and Feldman in the basement, thinking how difficult this year has been....

Long cool run, Super 8 sunlight. In school covering Bradbury and Vonnegut, sci-fi stories that really resonate with the students...Excllent screening the other night, will explain more on film page, but it was fascinating to be so close to the White House...Evening stroll and converstions on art in the pub....The night was a success on all accounts.

On the Traces post regarding Martin Amis's essay in the GUARDIAN: though I found it interesting in places, I have to say that on the whole, the writing seemed a bit pompous and over-simplified. Amis makes some sound points, but it seems to me that he has understated western collusion as an integral factor in this deeply (yes "deeply") complex equation. It baffles me that such an educated and articulate writer as himself should pen such-dare I say it?-nonsense. What I mean is that it appears he is trying to be too clever for his subject matter. His attempt at sardonic humor falls flat in consideration of so grave an issue. And then there's this line concerning the American and British invasion of Iraq: "still, we should not delude ourselves that the motives behind it were dishonourable." What?! Can he be serious? Every motive behind the invasion was dishonorable and dishonest! An unwarranted, preemptive attack upon another sovereign nation is perhaps the most blatantly egregious, ignoble act a government can commit. Furthermore, he adds: "The Iraq War represents a gigantic contract, not just for Halliburton, but also for the paving company called Good Intentions." What were the the so-called "good intentions?" Surely, Mr. Amis, you don't mean to say that you actually believe the "coalition of the willing" bombed Iraq to the ground and are presently slaughtering thousands upon thousands of innocent bystandards all in the name of liberation and democracy? I can only hope that your two above statements are feeble attempts at irony, but when they are considered within the context of what follows, it unfortunately appears they are in earnest. And your presumption that "all religions are violent; and all ideologies are violent" is flawed. Yes, there are innate elements of violence, but the perpetuation of violence, say from a Christian perspective and from what little I know of Islam, is purely a matter of interpretation, not ideology. That is, the tenets of both are built upon a foundation of peace and non-violence. Recall Christ's Sermon on the Mount. Christ espoused a means of living, nay, existing, that is applicable to both the follower and non-believer alike; it's a universal message. Remember Mr. Amis, ignorance and prejudice have their roots in generalizations such as yours. And lastly, your fervent renunciation of religion on the whole proves to be your greatest contradiction with respect to your above argument for the good of the invasion. Wasn't it Bush who unequivocally stated that he had a mandate from God to go to war? Now, you can't be conciliatory and derisive in the same breath, can you? JY

enjoying a respite from work, thinking of new material for the site: podcasts, written works, a whole collection of fresh ideas...the cool weather feels great, like the welcome, reassuring touch of an old friend...JY

The Coast, the North, early morning stroll, low tides, a stray dog, poetry by Eluard, Canadian French, Cheap Coffee, cold, cold water, sunburn, lyrical smile, incredible beauty moving slowly out of reach, vision, Portsmouth, dreams of unknown years, a tender return to Wallis sands, mountain air, framing canticle landscape melody, praying, long corridors, afternoon excursions, excavations on the sand, a visit to the islands, PAUSE AND REMEMBER THE NATURALS.

I absorb the text as an open framework of words, freed from the constraint of syntax and form. The narrative as non-narrative. You don't read to understand, per se, but rather to be. Interpretation does not hinge on the reliability of precedence, but is instead born from experience, that subtle, yet integral, element of human existence that shapes our emotion and reason. Always changing? perhaps, but maybe not. As we open ourselves up to the world around us, we begin to learn how to "look," "listen" and "feel." to experience. I began to see my world through different eyes when I first saw the Seasonal Quartet. and the other short pieces. movements. gestures. how much pain can be conveyed in the image of one dying leaf fallling into the rushing water? more than can be imagined, I say. But, it is not too much, because I revel in such depictions of truth. (Like Lauren's body twisting itself into different shapes, forms and reflections.) How does the artist see such things, such beautiful, haunting, painful things that we see everyday but don't see. it is a gift the artist has-An ability to lift the sensory veil that blankets the mind's eye. When I first saw those images: the summer rainfall soaking the plastic lawnchair; a woman looking back over her shoulder, a lonely airport, and a little girl being swung about in a semi-circle, so beautifully measured a movement-when I first saw them, something moved within me. if it was recognition, it was faint. Yes, I had seen these things before, but not like this. I was learning. The learning was stronger than recognizing. And I yearned for more...the artist...unsung hero of man's imagination and experience. You celebrate the loveliness of "being," no matter how painful or ugly it may be, for it is still beautiful because it is a part of all that we know and are, but have somehow forgotten to acknowledge...like the passing of spring into summer into autumn into winter and back again, but never the same...JY

So, now that I've been back to the U.S. for almost two whole weeks, I feel that I can begin to write on some reflections from my Canadian visit. I miss the openness and "navigatability" of Vancouver. Outside my doorstep, awaiting my eager gaze, lie the water, the mountains, buildings, space...Walking was great. No car. I dislike driving and the ironic confinement ownership imparts. I felt more "free" to travel when I went by public transit.

Images that will stay with me: people everywhere utilizing the available public space to relax and take in the outdoors. Reading! everywhere reading eyes-wonderful, kindred souls soaking in nature and the written word. Beautiful! Excellent B.C. wines (had some chardonnay, chenin blanc and pinot noir) and microbrews (esp. from Granville Island). The small independent bookshops and intimate restaurants. All unpretentious and unassuming. Now I'm back to the daily grind and my thoughts often drift back to those two weeks. I thought of a few things to write while up there, some short stories I hope to pen soon. We'll see. Relaxed with some Antonioni tonight. Revisited David Hemmings's world through his lens, so to speak. Brilliant filmmaking. Always challenging, but good for the soul. Appreciate it like a great bottle of wine. Take it in slowly. No hurry. Relax and open up. JY

Long Summer days-trips to Richmond for Arcadia, wine near the riverside, discussions on Eisenstein and Bazin, are they so far apart? Political discussions, the threat of more war, children playing in the park, people reading, seems remote, distant, War, but it isn't, helped a young woman carry her luggage up the stairs at Kings Cross, many wonderful books at the flat, Danish in the morning, French dinners, read about Modigliani, drinks in a pub called the Dog and Duck, Orwell, lovely dim, narrow streets, a girl on the train reading 1984, montage of attractions, incredible coast, cows, sheep, much wind and chalk...In the gallery, sound installation, echoes of Eno and Budd, Cafe Renoir, latte, Polish waitress, broken English, friendly smile, three long hours getting back, tensions on the train, the heat, a country filled with nostalgia, a real city, wine near the riverside, contemplating loss, death, staring at the riverbank, too much life, strange, slept well, great hosts, recording sounds, calls home, "To strive, to seek, to find, not to yield" discover pockets of resistance, sounds drift around the Orleans house, soundtracks of breezes, rain, and organ, installation, a ferry to the other side, incredible light, "I am at the prey of great powers that surge fourth and then disintegrate" Projects and plans, in the sky with Native Americans, returning from performances, a hearty laugh, slept 12 hours, deeply.

The first part of the day personified my state of being...sullen, overcast and full of unshed tears. Then the sky wept throughout the day. Finally, a bit of prescient sunshine. Oh, how did this day finally come and feel as it did? DM

I haven't written in a while, which I regret, but things have been so busy as of late. Looking for a new job, glad I'm leaving my current employer. Essay deadlines. It's all a bit much, but hopefully everything will settle soon. The World Cup matches have been great! Definitely edge-of-your-seat, nail-biting viewing! The final should be phenomenal! I will definitely post more substantial entries in the very near future. Not to worry, I tell myself. The 4th seemed rather strange for a few moments earlier in the evening, for I was thinking back to one three years ago. Nostalgia hangs thick like the humid summer air...DM

Monday, June 26, 2006-Ran in the swamp-like humidity this morning, curious to see how high the water had risen, pretty high actually. Rain started again during the run, felt good. Summer officially arrived this weekend socially: Friday-Dinner and a club for a friend whose birthday is tomorrow. Saturday- annual summer solstice party in Riverdale Park. Sunday-went to the cinema. I saw this, which I found rich with stunning imagery and Greek tragedy. At times, the script falters, but the visuals are so dynamic it compensates. This is the first of a trilogy from Angelopoulos on Greek life in the 20th century.

Read an article in Wired magazine about two types of Artists-The Conceptualist and The Experimentalists. I would post the article, but I cannot find it. To summarize: Conceptualists figure things out early, are innovators, but tend to burn out. Their best work is their early work. Examples: Welles, Fitzgerald, Eliot, Plath, Picasso, Mozart. The rest of their works in their later life tend to pale in comparison. The Experimentalist best work is later, much later. They spend their entire career tinkering, their work appears to be unfinished. Their masterpieces are created well into Middle age or old age Examples: Jackson Pollock, Beethoven, Cezanne, Frank Lloyd Wright, Stevens, Frost. I found this article really intriguing, I do not agree with all of it, I think Welles better films are after Citizen Kane; I love Eliot's Four Quartets, and find Picasso's later work to be compelling; but one example really hit home. If Jackson Pollock died at age 31, he would have been unknown. He stayed with it and the art world benefited. I am sure there is plenty to add to this list. The message here: keep tinkering. cl

Friday, June 16, 2006-Listening to Satie's Vexations at the moment. The school year ended earlier this week, feels good, but always tinged with a bit of sadness. I found this year to be one of my most enjoyable experiences teaching lit. I really looked forward to having conversations with a few of my students-their insights were really astonishing at times. I learned quite a bit from them as well. They took to the projects and the tests positively and I was able to have open discussions in the classroom, which can be difficult. I had some bad days for sure, and the year opened with a tragedy, but I think a few of the students helped me cope. One student said the highlight of his year was my class, which was really amazing. Anyway, their test scores improved so it looks like I will be teaching a higher grade level next year. Some highlights for me: Teaching Poe, Wright, Shakespeare, Reed, Maupassant, Angelou, their projects, having tea during the breaks, conversations, insight on Africa, Nepal, and Latin America from the youth. It was nice to have my own room, computer and a LCD projector too.

Warm night in Silver Spring, SilverDocs is a huge success, the streets have a bit more energy.

Beautiful weekend-gorgeous weather, though a bit on the chilly side Sat. evening. As usual, I didn't get much accomplished as far as work, but got a good deal of rest, which is perhaps just as, if not more important in the overall picture. Sat. was capped by a fantastic dinner (barbecue) with close friends, an evening made especially necessary after a horrible work week. The conversation covered a lot, from work to design to education. Sunday began with an early morning run, and again, it was rather chilly to start, but as the morning progressed, the sun really came through. Later, caught An Inconvenient Truth

with a good friend of mine. A great documentary, it reminded me a lot of what Michael Moore was trying to accomplish (initially, at least) with Fahrenheit 9/11. Like it, this film's message is crystal clear, with all the incontrovertible evidence laid out for all to see. But what will America do with such proof? I fear that the response, if any, will be slow and the message simply dismissed by those unwilling to accept responsibility for the ongoing damage to the envirionment. To enact a reversal of the course we've set for ourselves will take much sacrifice, material and behavioral. Can Americans relinquish their appetites for consumption and size? Perhaps, but I wish I could be more optimistic. It's great that a film such as this is getting out to the public, and I applaud Gore for his part in all this, but is it futile? There are those (and too many) who still believe that Saddam Hussein harbored WMD's and that Iraq had a hand in the events of 9/11. These will be the same idiots who will decry all the obvious climatic warnings and maintain that global warming is merely a concocted "theory," all the while driving their SUV's and Hummers with "impunity." Change is already taking place, and I hope this film will pry open the eyes of those who try to remain blind to the bare facts. In the meantime, I know that I must do my part as well, for it does no good to merely speak without acting.

I want to consider something for later: Why is Christianity "packaged" and advertised as it is in this country and how does this presentation differ from that put forth by other religions to their respective followers? This is truly perplexing.

Each time I see the new London pieces, I appreciate them more. Their gentleness really speaks to me. The marriage of image to music is quietly breathtaking, like a Greene metaphor. I eagerly await the next installments in the series!

Late last night,
I revisited the shelves,
and was looking for another map,
but like then,
I am still without a guide.

How many steps have you taken
beside me,
without my knowing?
Walks to all those strange places,
yet unvisited,
by us...

I write words like this and then think, I have so much to learn. I wish I could take a year off from it all and just read, write and watch. I want to take everything in and feel like I did the first time I read Durrell or heard Bizet's Carmen. To be completely moved, that is bliss! Anyway, it's hard to believe we're into another new month; time is really moving along. Before you know it, the heat will give way to the first cool whispers of autumn...

Spent this Holiday weekend pretty quietly, which has been really nice. Gorgeous weather, though a bit warm (hot). Got a lot of yard work done yesterday and am still feeling rather sore from the effort. Just sat around and watched several films. Let me go back a bit. Friday was kind of interesting because I caught Neil LaBute's In the Company of Men on some cable station, and for some reason I had been thinking about this film lately, though not at any great length, just in passing. As I was watching it, I found myself thinking back to how I felt when I first saw this film back in '98. Well, it just didn't grab me the way it did back then. Later in the morning (around 3 a.m.-yes, suffering from a bit of insomnia that night), there was another a LaBute film playing, this one was The Shape of Things, and after having just watched the other, I could see that this more recent film is really nothing more than a reversal of the first. That is, the contemptible manipulator is a woman (Rachel Weisz) instead of the typical male (Aaron Eckhart). It was overdone and pretentious. I think LaBute has explored his watered down conception of gender conflict to the point of exhaustion. Please, something different!

Well, I saw her the other evening and must say that it all went very well (hence, my quote several entries down). I seem to have been able to reconcile yearning with acceptance, a seemingly impossible task. She looked good, and it was really nice to be able to talk of a great many things in such a way as to better understand one another. I left feeling really positive about the future, but not in the manner of going back, but of continuing to move forward. We even spoke of Gide and the love his Jerome and Alyssa shared for each other. I hope she will be able to read this (Strait is the Gate) sometime soon. How wonderful it is to know that the memories you cherish are still very much alive in the other...

To my reader (I assume your post defining (kr-k-chr, -chr) was in response to my "reading" of the Atlantic Monthly article): I must say that the writer (indeed Carl Elliott) was not creating an exaggeration by which to illustrate his point. No, these sales representatives are indeed hired for the very physical traits "painted" on the named dolls. They, and their complicity, are not exaggerations, but represent just one aspect of what is terribly wrong with the ridiculous, bureaucratic health care system that is in place in this country. I wish his article was a satire of present circumstances, but that would be wishful thinking...

Going for a run-school nearly over-what a year-will comment soon-driving to the ocean-listening to Rear View Mirror by Grandaddy-

"We fit together so well; we're perfect for one another. Yet, we can never be together." DM

car·i·ca·ture Pronunciation Key (kr-k-chr, -chr) n. 1. A representation, especially pictorial or literary, in which the subject's distinctive features or peculiarities are deliberately exaggerated to produce a comic or grotesque effect.

While I was waiting in the dr's office this morning, I found myself thumbing through a back issue of The Atlantic and came across an article on the state of pharmaceutical "detailing" (sales) in this age of exorbitant health care. On the one hand, the article brought up many good points about how the pharmaceutical industry is focused primarily on pushing its products and how drug reps are basically "bribing" physicians to prescribe his/her company's products. However, on the other hand, I couldn't quite get a feel for the writer's perspective on the issue, and I'm quite certain he/she was not trying to remain unbiased, but for me, the overall feeling was that the author was straddling the fence, almost making excuses for the deplorable methods and profligate spending these salespersons employ, using statements such as, "I'm sure [name] is really a likeable person on the outside." But consider this, if a sales representative is trying to push a product on a physician while knowingly either mitigating a drug's hazardous effects at the least, or omitting such data at the worst, then that borders on criminality. And you think that a person who would pursue a career that concentrates on peddling half-truths and omissions, and in some cases, potentially fatal ones at that, all in hopes of meeting a sales quota and thus, a bigger bonus, is inherently "decent?" I have to be honest, health professionals are supposed to intelligent, well-educated individuals who should be able to see through all the "swag" these hucksters bring with them as means of persuasion. But no, greed fosters no socio-economic prejudice, for almost anyone can be enticed into venality. While the writer was providing example after nauseating example of the expenses the drug companies would not spare in order to push their products, absent was any mention of the consequences of such practice. Where is the lesson in all this? Instead, the article was peppered with such obtuse statements as, "Pharmacists, doctors, and medical professors are not known for their looks" (this was made as a comparison to the "barbie and ken" sales reps that visit the dr's offices and pharmacies). Well, I'm sure writers for The Atlantic Monthly are not hired for their striking features or knock-out bodies. What an idiotic statement to make. If anything, this person should have drawn the conclusion that since the industry is emphasizing a certain "look" within its sales force, then it should be obvious that the intended effect is to entice sales by charm or charisma. Just look at the beer ads; it's the same concept! OK, in your own phraseology (I really wish I had gotten the name of the author of this particular article), these reps are not known for their erudition; they simply spew out slanted facts and figures that have been drilled into their heads by their managers. Believe me, their rhetoric is well rehearsed. They are like dolled-up robots. If anything, one should conclude from this inane article that healthcare in this country is no longer a humanity-based endeavor. It's a business, plain and simple. This is not to say that every practitioner is corrupt or motivated solely by monetary gain, but unfortunately, this figure has become more the exception rather than the norm. DM

After a week off, it felt good to get back outside for a run, though I could have done without the strong breeze, as I am still experiencing the vestiges of my hacking cough. Anyway, I shouldn't complain. I mean, afterall, it was a beautiful evening, nonetheless. I'm looking forward to some runs downtown on the Mall with CL and C. Think I'll either take in another film or do some reading...DM

It's interesting how certain details, gleaned in retrospect, come to the fore and offer fresh significance when considered after the passing of some time. Having watched 2046 and L'Avventura, I can see a similarity in each director's visualization (and a stunning one, at that) of women. The camera caresses every detail of her face and body in a manner that is sensually poetic and deeply stimulating, though beyond the realm of physical appreciation. It's as if both (directors) have created a transcendent feminine image that entices the most intricate reaches of the human aesthetic. It really is an entirely different mode of appreciation, one that calls to mind every facet of the feminine ideal, though without watering down her profundity with overtly sexual, purely erotic depictions. A glance, a look, a walk, all is quietly beautiful. Even the manner of her speech is polished in way so as to emphasize her paradoxical embodiment of tenderness and strength. When you see one of Kar Wong-Kai's women crying, her sorrow and pain are fully palpable to the audience. And when you watch one of Antonioni's heroines move about in thought, restlessness, or agitation, it's like watching a ballerina dancing some filmic choregraphy. Yes, they are physically striking, but you could watch only their silhouettes and still feel this aura of beauty in which they exist. These directors truly love their women, though in a manner that is beyond the reach of desecration, and perhaps worse, banality. In their hands, the simplest gesture, or word, marks a wellspring of thought, feeling and of course, expression. DM

Finished McEwan's Enduring Love late last night and I must say that it is a wonderful novel. In it, he beautifully captures the nuances of human suffering, down to its most minute detail: "Leaning by the open car door now in the brightening air, I experienced a sudden ache-part desolation, part panic-at observing the speed with which this mate, this familiar, was transforming herself into a separate person" (238). The prose is as fluid and facile as the threatening wind that blows in and disrupts everyone's life so forcefully, so completely. I think I will sojourn with a short stroy (novella) before I delve into another novel. Andre Dubus and We Don't Live Here Anymore. John Curran did a beautiful filmic adaptation, so, let's see how the prose feels...DM

So, where to begin? Back on familiar ground, I suppose, but first a recap of a great evening spent with close friends. Thursday night at Franklin's was great! CL and I were able to convince C to join us. We became engaged in an "engaging" conversation about grammar and usage! (which or that?; capitalize or no?; s' or s's? just to name a few...) Great time! Excellent pints! Looking forward to hanging out upstairs long into the night, music playing, conversation flowing and mixing, like a heterogenous solution in the making...

The seasons are ready to change again, though for me, at least this past week, it has not been a looking ahead as much as a remembrance of a painful, not-too-distant past. Those feelings have reawakened, tehrefore, I'm not as strong as I thought myself to be. I know this will pass, as it must, but I cannot understand why it has come to visit me again, now, after I believed I had banished it into the darkest corners of my forgetfulness. But I cannot deceive myself, for I will never forget. How could I? It wouldn't be, well, human, would it? Perhaps it's that time of year come again during which I would have spent more time with her, because she would be home. My fondest memory is of the long drive down to her parents' home by the beach right as the dusk was about to settle in. The warm summer wind would blow unfettered through my open window and the trees would cast long, sad shadows across the still warm asphalt as the sun rose ever higher into the sky. The sunlight's intensity would be attenuated, but the warmth of its color during this hour of the day would be at its peak. Yes, I will always remember those beautiful, languid summer (Saturday) evenings. But I just want to dispel this pervasive sadness from my soul. I want to rise up from my crippling weakness, like I was doing in the weeks preceding this past one. I don't want to ask myself futile questions all over again, thus deconstructing all the acceptance and peace I have obtained and attained in my long journey here. I want strength, but from whence shall my nourishment come? I am an aching, bleeding shell...it will simply take more time...but how much?

Great films this weekend (see Film Journal page), but I must say, 2046 has left an indelible impression upon me. Of all the Asian directors I have had the pleasure of "watching," few are better than Kar Wong-Kai when it comes to incorporating western music (in this case, classical and opera) into his films. By melding together this genre of music with his uniquely "oriental" vision, he produces a cinematic aesthetic that truly transcends normative cultural associations. I don't think I will ever hear a more lovely cinematic rendering of Bellini's arias! As with In the Mood for Love, there is present the ubiquitous "occidental" leitmotiv that is as poignant as it is haunting. His kinetic images, esp. his train sequences, balance the beautiful stasis of his still (very slow motion) images. The various women that pass in and out of Mr. Chow's existence are more than amatory encounters; they are feminine extensions of himself: tentative, playful, fragmented, temporal...yet by virtue of their presence, however brief or extended, they all succeed in securing permanence within Chow, "for those who go to 2046 are looking to recapture memories..."

So, tomorrow, it's back to work. Within those 8 hours, I hope to find some trace of beauty. However small, I know it will be meaningful.

Sunday, May 21, 2006-Good music last night/therapeutic/ slow. Working or creating is keeping me grounded these days. I wrote a few lines-

There is so much running through my head. I will put it all down, though. I must. DM

I have been thinking of this quote a bit today: Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live. Haruki Murakami

I've been laid up these past few days, hence the absence of an entry until now. I'm about to finish Enduring Love (the reading has been interrupted by a number of things), which is exciting not only for the pleasure of concluding a fine novel such as this (of course, I am curious to see how the film differs in this respect), but also for the anticipation of beginning another book. I was able to view CL's London shorts this past Sat. and they are amazing! I will comment in greater detail later after a couple of more viewings, but needless to say, they are incredible pieces! Read an interesting article in the New Yorker about the "whole" (is this a pun, intended or not?)Whole Foods and organic eating phenomenon that is becoming more and more prevalent. I wouldn't say it's a critique as much as an eloboration on the whole concept, with what are perhaps a few unknown facts included.

I thought to myself that I'd like to go back a write a bit more, restart a project I had in my mind several months ago (some prose, mainly verse). I don't know, why do I fancy myself a writer? Anyway, we'll see... I need to start taking more notes of things around me (forgetting too many important details), like the names of the wines I drink in those restaurants I happen to dine in (o.k., so, I don't necessarily "happen" into them, but it's all the same, isn't it?). Books I want to read, music I need to listen to and revisit and films to be seen. Many, many things to do. "Stop yearning, start doing" should be my newly adopted philosophy. I'll try...Bob Dylan in the background...DM

Sunday May 14, 2006-Mothers Day-Ran this morning, cool and overcast, very quiet . I suspect most people are with their families. Mekas has been on my mind as well, to echo Jy's entry below. I picked up his book Movie Journal in the early nineties at the local library for a dollar, ridiculous really, when I think of the impact it has had on me. I have been waiting to see one of his diary films for years, I saw three last week. The films are just beautiful and amazing-Chopin is playing now and I am thinking of this wonderful shot in his film Walden of a young woman walking through Central Park, then shots of his living space, and then more shots of rain, and then music. The crowd was disappointing. A few of them kept asking him about his experience in the camps. One person asked if distribution for independent film now is better. Mekas shrugged and pulled out his ipod, "This is the future" I wonder if the person asking the question was aware that Mekas distributed his own films, strange.

I know someone said this before, but I kept thinking of this line today," I haven't grown up, only grown older " Why this line today? I dreamt of my old classmates the other night, may have something to do with it, not sure though. Mekas spoke about having three or four lives/movements or moments but still felt like a child, a very creative child working on an epic story, but the story turned into fragments, fragments of paradise.

Jy and I tried to drag C along with us the other night, but she got home late. Excellent conversation and the Guinness was not bad either. Art and ideas expressed in the most bland chains in America-there is something to that I suppose. Joyce would understand.

Still thinking about Mekas and his sagacious words. Back to work yesterday and the mundane routine. Received The Passenger and am excited to see this mesmerizing film once again. I saw it for the first time in Toronto this past January and was blown away. Listening to a little Beethoven right now before retiring for the evening. Feeling a bit under, though (cold's coming on). Tried a short run earlier, but was sluggish. Hopefully will feel better tomorrow...DM

Well, where to begin? Last night was nothing short of inspirational, watching and listening to Jonas Mekas read his very personal letters to the audience in lieu of a "traditional" Q&A symposium following a screening of his work (well, sort of. Walden was running, but only while people were finding their seats. Strange). His writings are an amalgam of ideas and experience, all bound together with a sensitivity and deep love for humanity that is as refreshing as it is enlightening. The program was at the Hirshorn in D.C., and I'm very grateful to CL for informing me of this very special event. The day itself was overcast, with bits of rain pelting the ground every once in a while. During such afternoons, I always think back to a particular one in October (the 21st of last year, to be exact). Oh, I will always remember that day with such sadness. I could not have foreseen the coming storm... Anyway, forgive my digression, but as Mekas pointed out, life is indeed "fragmented."

After we left the auditorium, we made our way out into the rain in the hopes of hitting Fado's for a couple of pints of Guinness and some food, but alas, it was not to be. Too crowded. Great for just a drink, but not conducive for a sit down meal. So, it's back to MD. and Bennigan's. We get our pints and food and settle in. Talk of many things: The Velvet Underground, Andy Warhol, American directors (here's a list of ones we found to be of particular interest)1. Gus Van Sant (a few lackluster films, but a resurgence as of late) 2. Wes Anderson (must watch The Life Aquatic again!) 3. David Lynch (of course!) 4. Richard Linklater 5. Orson Welles 6. Woody Allen 7. Robert Redford (brief mention of Ordinary People) 8. Alexander Payne, and went on with a discussion of Jack Nicholson's 70's work. Brilliant stuff, of which I am really looking forward to sinking my teeth into. There are so many films to see, books to read , and music to listen to...can one overwhelm the senses? I don't think so, and besides, look at the substance-art-without which our existence would have no substance! A great evening (I didn't want it to end, for there was so much more to discuss), but I know that it never really ends, just continues in "fragments..." DM