Central Avenue Bus

Sat next to Johnny Cash...tall man dressed in black, spent some time talking to himself about respect. Wore his hair long and in a ponytail, and he sounded the part, like he might break out in song about some lonesome whistle blowing. His shoes were shined, I wonder where he was headed.

Young man I did not look at...sat in the back, somewhere to my left, whispered murderous threats toward the bus driver every time the bus stopped to let someone off and pick someone up. I think about it, murderous mumuring, how at some point words turn into actions. I've ridden the bus for years and haven't seen it yet.

Tommy Lee Jones tried to get on the bus with a UNM i.d. and no sticker. He was older. Heck, he was Tommy Lee Jones. But he carried a skateboard, wore a bandana and a cowboy hat. When the driver refused to let him on without paying, he skateboarded up central. Three stops later a pretty young co-ed offered the same i.d. with no sticker. She got her ride for free.

Saying Everything

A friend once said to me, "You say everything." She meant it as a joke. I've been walking around with these words for years, chewing them over, thinking on them. She was right. I do say everything. I rationalized that since I spent the first half of my life keeping secrets, not saying anything, not daring an opinion, not challenging authority, that I could certainly spend the rest of my life putting it all out there, learning from my mistakes as I go. It is a reckless way to live, this. To put your heart and your words out there, with the idea that the experience and the feedback will add to your knowledge and inform your choices. You have to trust that those closest to you understand the whys and the wherefores because you've laid it all out on the table. It must be reactionary, my need to shout from the rooftops, "See me. Hear me." as though I need some external proof for my existence. But saying everything, all these words cast, feels burdensome. I regret none, but still I carry them, feel heavy with them like Atlas felt the weight of the world. Maybe after so many years of finding and exercising my voice, I'm ready again for silence, contemplation. Tonight I stargaze, a way to switch gears, find my center.

From Weight: The myth of Atlas and Hercules by Jeanette Winterson

Potassium, like uranium and radium, is a long-lived radioactive nuclear waste of the supernova bang that accounts for you. Your first parent was a star.

A small announcement and another movie...

My cat lays pressed up next to my laptop and I think he just caused it to overheat.

I'm Not There

What an amazing movie. I like Bob Dylan's music, but I'm not an aficionado, still I walked away with an idea of the complexity of the man and of the history he lived through. I don't know much about technical film language, but the structure and methodology called to mind Jeanette Winterson for some reason. I think the non-linear storytelling, the pastiche, the character arcs that seemed individual but necessary in getting at the larger idea of the man, of his life. It was stunning to watch. I'm not sure this concept would have worked to represent anyone but Dylan. Cate Blanchett is a wonder in this film. I really don't want to over talk this...just go see the movie.

A final note...it is likely that since I have enjoyed, what?, five movies in a row? I predict the next movie I see will disappoint. No way I could go six for six. Lets hope I'm wrong. :-)

August Rush

I thought this movie was beautiful. Everything in it is improbable, but if you suspend disbelief, it's beautiful. The trailer let's us know that this is the story--orphan boy and musical prodigy, feels a connection to his biological parents through music and thinks that if he puts his music out there they'll hear him and find him. I knew that to get it I would have to step into the reality the film sets up, not the reality we live in. It's visually stimulating, a wheat field in the wind, icy telephone wires down a long cold road, the jarring images of the city, and all of the sights match the incredible sounds in brilliant tapestry. Life sounds and music combine the way the music of his cellist mother and Irish guitarist father combine on screen. Freddie Highmore is wonderful as the boy who hears music everywhere and in everything. The supporting case is great, beautiful, fragile, but most importantly, their performances are truly supporting performances, which allows Highmore to shine. Worth the price of admission and the price of the soundtrack that's on my list for Santa.

The Martian Child

Three things sold me on this movie. 1. John Cusack 2. The trailer 3. The concept.

I typically like whatever John Cusack is in, and I saw the trailer for this when I saw another movie, not sure which one. The concept is the real seller for me though, a science fiction writer adopts a kid who thinks he's from Mars. The kid is great in this movie. Played by Bobby Coleman, Dennis isn't just playground weird. Never in this movie is the audience expected to believe that Dennis hasn't been through some traumatic stuff, and yet he's not just some tragic sympathetic character, he's an intrepid scientist, an explorer from another planet, a smart kid who devised an incredibly complex and ingenious coping mechanism. He seems heroic in a way, light years ahead of the adults around him in some ways, woefully unprepared for the world in others. Pair him with a sci fi writer somewhat out of his element as a parent but completely in his element when dealing with Martians and other creatures, and it's magic. Yes, it's Hollywood magic. But so what. I don't care. I love the way the story unfolds, the way Dennis negotiates Earth, the way Cusack's character, David, negotiates single fatherhood, the parallels of both of them grieving something. A good movie, beautifully shot...I enjoyed all but the scenes with Angelica Houston and Oliver Platt, which surprised me because I typically like both of them...but in this movie...they were too much...too dramatic and cartoonish.

Hurray for three movies in a row that I have enjoyed.

The great multiplex conspiracy...

I thought I would go see a matinee of The Martian Child today, but no. This and a couple of other movies are only showing after regular price tickets kick in. I have to wait until Monday to see this movie at the matinee price. I realize that for some, to quibble over three dollars is silly, but it means the difference between movie and popcorn or just the movie. And so I wait, and curse the multiplex big wigs for not offering this film during matinee hours today. Now I am stuck with cleaning, and dreaded paperwork I've been neglecting, and writing that best seller, and buying my lottery ticket, because spending a dollar on a once in a lifetime opportunity is all the financial plan I can afford.