Thursday, May 21, 2015

35 mm Dracula - from freaky to sexy

i've been reading up on vampires for a few years now, since, as far as history and anthropology are concerned, i am interested in death rituals. obviously the nosferatu, or undead, throws a wrench in that process. at the same time, i've been doing some light research on Vlad Tepes. Throw in the mix Bram Stoker and you end up with this odd fascination for Dracula.

so i started collecting Dracula movies. i don't have them all yet (apparently Dracula has appeared in 161 movies, according to this site ) but i'm slowing working on it.
one winter, i read Stoker's book from cover to cover and then i watched the Dracula movies in my collection, in chronological order.
two great conclusions emerged:
1/ no director really follows the book plot (except perhaps the 1977 BBC  tv production called 'Count Dracula' starring Louis Jordan, and apparently the Jesse Franco's 'Dracula', starring Christopher Lee, which i just discovered but haven't seen yet);
2/ and nobody portrays Count Dracula as he is described in the book.

why? i don't know why. honestly, it seems to me that it would not be too difficult to follow the plot as well as the portrayal of Dracula. OK, we know why F.W. Murnau didn't.... copyright infringement and lawsuit by Stoker's widow, basically ruining the director. but what about the subsequent ones. go figure.

i focused my attention on second conclusion: the portayal of Dracula on the silver screen. i noticed this strange evolution, from freaky, with Murnau's 'Nosferatu' starring Max Schreck, to sexy, with Frank Langella's portrayal in 1979. finally in the 1990's we get a mix of the two genres with Gary Oldman in Coppola's masterpiece.
but i truly believe that Bela Lugosi was the greatest influence on this shift away from the pure monster. he played Dracula on screen just as he had on Broadway, and subsequent actors all borrowed from him: looks, dress, manners, etc. i can't help but think that, if he hadn't played that role, perhars the hollywood portrayals of the Count would have been more monsterous, more Murnau-like.

grab a drink and some popcorn and enjoy...


here's the first part...



and here's part 2...

Sunday, February 6, 2011

flypaper textures for dummies

a few months ago i started looking into the flypaper texture business. why bother? you're gonna ask. well, i know some people online who spend a lot of time on this and they seem to be making some money from it. i figured i could give it a shot, see if works out for me.

having absolutely no clue as to the process, i looked around on the internet to try to understand how it was done. a few hours into my search, i got this strange uneasy feeling: the whole flypaper texture matter reminded me of the feng shui craze a few years back. everybody talks about it but never in depth. and if you want depth, you gotta pay the piper.
(aaaahhhh, i knew there was a catch somewhere. so really, the money being made is not ultimately from the art itself but from selling the textures. so be it, business is business and people gotta make some money somehow, but i'll be damned if i ever buy a texture. i'm a graphic designer after all.)
what do i mean? well, you gotta buy the texture sets from the masters first, in order to understand and/or follow the tutorials. why? because the textures have esoteric names given to them by the texture masters, you see, names like hawaiian sunset, morning mist and daffodil blue (ok, i'm making these up, but....). so, really, the tutorials are useless without the texture sets. for example, take 'english morning fog' and apply an overlay at 63%.... WTF?

so i studied several pieces of work, different styles from random artists. hey, i'm not the smartest on the planet, but i'm not too stupid either. i figured i'd try to make my own textures in photoshop and applied them to my photos. i tried a few things, sometimes it worked, sometimes it turned out like crap, but i'm getting the hang of it now.
so here is a simple example, step by step, with one photo and 3 textures. i call it 'going dutch'... you'll see why.

here's the original photo, nothing exceptional, i took it on a sunny sunday afternoon just to try my new camera. i like taking pictures of tree reflecting in water, reminds me of the work of atget.


i don't do any color correction except changing from RGB to CMYK. i'm used to preparing images and layouts for print so i automatically work in CMYK. now, you can stay in RGB if you want, but if the finished image is going to get printed, then you'll have to flatten your layers before converting your image to CMYK. if not, BIG surprise. try it, you'll see. (yep, there is a huge difference between adding 3 colors to get black and adding 3 colors to get white).

then comes the hard part: choosing the textures to apply and mess around with the fusion modes for each layer. here, i used 3 textures, which i created in photoshop, and i only worked with one kind of fusion : linear burn.

i'm showing you the textures below so you can try to make them yourselves. no fancy names either.


fiber-like texture to which i applied a linear burn 54% plus a yellow photo filter





old paper texture with linear burn 100%





dirty pastel texture with linear burn 73% and a horizontal flip


and here is the result going dutch, like the great atget got possessed by rembrandt:


pretty simple, really. like i said, the most complicated part is to make your own textures. or you can always buy them... not from me tho.

Want to see more examples of textured photos ? Go check out my other blog. Enjoy!


Thursday, January 6, 2011

Epiphany

i wrote this some 15 years ago. kinda had forgotten all about it until about a year or so, when i cleaned up my floppy disk box (yes, i know... old).
the magi, epiphany, a good time to share this, i thought.



Perhaps the roses really want to grow,
The vision seriously intends to stay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

- W.H Auden


the wise men walk in the night. the winter wind cuts their faces, their nerves. where the hell are we? and what the hell are we doing? Melchior sings, to frighten the demons. Gaspar's mind wanders, wonders. Balthasar remembers the poem ... i've always been fascinated by these words of auden. i've pondered their meaning but to no avail. until now ... perhaps! "perhaps" is the key word: the uncertainty of our desires, the naiveté of our perception and yet the continual search, the constant doubts, the underlying hope which preserves us and guides us upon our respective paths. the utterance of the hope is what matters but our fears always force us to add "perhaps" ... as if it mattered! of course the roses want to grow. they do. and of course the vision intends to stay. it endures, even. and i am letting you know. even though that is the promise--or the belief?-- of a different world. the promise of a child, when she tells you a secret. or the belief of a child when he asked "where does the wind come from?" ... as if the child didn't know! but we adults too often rush into some explanation, only to hide our ignorance. the child only asked a rhetorical question ...

the wise men walk in the night. they follow the star, the hope, the promise. to what? a child in a cave, stinking, crying, demanding, pure, lonely, frightened ... the christ who cries out from the cross to a father he never kissed. the nights are cold and biting in the desert, the sand chilled by the ruthless wilderness. with this surrealist scenery in the background, they advance the sages of the east towards a destiny beyond belief. i wonder what their conversations might have been. perhaps (yes!) they ask each other about the roses, the vision ... only to arrive at the cave. the roses? i only see weeds. the world in its blindness so thinks. but the magi know that the child is the rose. the soft petals of his cheeks, the obvious thorns of his cries, the fragility of his youth, the beauty of his potential, of the years to come. and the vision stays. the star still adorns our nights. we tend to forget it though. we have too many lights in our nights, and not enough wilderness. so much fear that we confuse knowledge with supposition, doubt with hope.

the wise men walk in the night. the city lies in the distance. bethlehem. and a star, the silent witness of the birth, the mute herald of the miracle, the hand that reaches out, slightly touching, ever faithful, ever watchful, like the lover's eyes upon his asleep companion. he touches her, soft, light, amorous, and she lets her lips grant him a smile. she doesn't talk; she doesn't want to break the spell. her head rests heavy upon his chest. she is at peace, in peace, in his peace. that was better than any word. he loves her. and he knows she loves him.

the wise men walk in the night ... and they are met by god. bethlehem and the lovers have fallen asleep.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

why i love the internet - part 2

I wrote a research paper in graduate school on the phibionites. it must have been for one of the many gnosticism classes i took then. it was a rather obscure topic. i liked obscure topics because, being lazy, it was easy for me to quickly master the subjet matter without doing much work. the phibionites, yeah, that was a good one. here's how the paper started, you'll get my drift:

This paper is about sexual gnosticism, and in particular about the sect of the Phibionites which Epiphanius describes in the 26th chapter of his Panarion, Book 1. The subject matter has however yielded a rather poor scholarly crop. The leading study on the Phibionites is still Stephen Benko's article "The Libertine Gnostic Sect of the Phibionites according to Epiphanius" published in 1967. Almost 20 years later, Benko offered a further study of the sect, in a chapter of his book on Early Christianity. Aside from Benko's work, very few scholars have intelligently engaged in the debate. Reasons for such attitude abound. I will here name the two most prominent ones: on the one hand there is paucity of reliable information from Late Antiquity, and on the other hand, modern scholars have fallen prey to their religious, cultural and moral biases.

as i came across my old paper again, cleaning up my old computer files, i thought, 'hey, i wonder if scholarship has improved on the topic' so i googled the term. sadly enough, the scholarship has not improved a bit but i found this wonderful and yet quite odd video on the topic :



what the .....? who's this dude? and why the phibionites? couldn't find a serious article but i found mister potatohead and his peeps doing a phibionite ritual! now that is amazing. i wonder what my old professors, especially benko, would think of that. sure, the video is a summary of what the phibionites were all about, but it covers the essentials which is secrecy, sex and ritual. here are excerpts from my old paper (without footnotes, sorry), to give you a better idea of the subjet but the video sums it up quite nicely.


We know basically nothing about the Phibionites aside from the testimony of Epiphanius. He wrote his Panarion between 374-378, a massive catalog of heresies, with the hope to rid (Nicaean) Christianity of the cancer which plagued it. He mentions them first in association with the Nicolaitans, but devotes most of the 26th chapter to them. The Phibionites are Egyptian gnostics: "[b]ut in Egypt the same people are known as Stratiotics and Phibionites" (Pan. 26, 3, 7). Although he goes into sufficient details about their system of thought and their practices, to which I will return later, he remains silent about their origins. Some scholars have noted that lacuna, as well as the lack of etymology for the sect's name.

It is my contention that deciphering an etymology for the word Phibionite will offer us a possible origin for the sect. Epiphanius uses the word phibionitai, which does not exist elsewhere as such in Greek. However, Liddell and Scott gives a masculine noun of phibi meaning "name of the Ibis = Hermes Thoth." In Sahidic Coptic, phibi translates as hiboi, ibis (with derivatives), or with the masculine article phiboi. In his Coptic dictionary, Vycichl adds to the linguistic definition that indeed it is "l'oiseau sacré du dieu Thot, hibis."

Hence, at an etymological level, I would connect the word phibionite to the Coptic of ibis, and subsequently, at a religious one, to Thoth, and obviously from Thoth, to Egyptian hermeticism. We know of the definite connection between gnosticism and hermeticism with the presence of texts such as Asclepius in the Nag Hammadi collection. Indeed, we can speak of a hermetic gnosticism. As a matter of fact, the Egyptian Thoth, who in the Hellenistic period comes to be known as Hermes, can be called the gnostic god par excellence: god of writing but also, and perhaps more importantly, god of philosophical and occult sciences. The Egyptian religious ethos is not one of asceticism; we encounter there a rather joyful embrace of creation. The hermetic writings, even in their more austere and gnostic guises reflect that philosophical stance.

However, no scholar has of yet come forth to propose that there may be a sexually-oriented branch of hermeticism, although "the Perfect discourse goes so far as to praise sexual intercourse as not merely a necessity but a pleasure, and an image of God's own creative act." And this is precisely the hermetic text that we have in the Nag Hammadi corpus, a text which call intercourse a mystery and a sacrament, not unlike the Phibionites' Agape. I am not implying that the group out of which Asclepius emerged was a sexually-oriented hermetic community, but rather that the Phibionites might have known and used the tractate. Epiphanius does mention a certain "Gospel of Perfection" among the sexual gnostics' literature (26, 2, 5) which he could have mislabeled instead of the Perfect discourse.

In the end, I would suggest that, based on the name and its etymology, on the contemporaneous literature, on the locality, that is as part of the Alexandrian quite syncretic milieu, and on their practices that I will examine in the next section, that the Phibionites might have been a sexual hermetic gnostic Christian sect.


Concerning the Borberites, Gero writes that "they were not just a fiction of the prurient imagination of celibate ecclesiastical heresy-hunters. This group reacted to the--admittedly prevailing--ascetic ethos of fasting and sexual abstinence. In its stead they preached (and acted upon) the view that salvation from the evil powers which rule the world can only be obtained through a deliberate and full exercise of human sexual potentialities, specifically in a ritual form wherein the various sexual emissions, male and female, played a central, sacramental role, and in a manner which was aimed at the prevention of conception and birth."
This observation can be similarly made about the Phibionites. Epiphanius' description is far from being flattering, and he doesn't seem willing to try to understand their theological and mythical systems. However scant and vociferous, he does offer us a portrait of an otherwise unknown group. Like Benko, I will ask "What is Phibionitism?" He gives as an answer the following "The Phibionites believed that the purpose of the work of Jesus was the restoration of the primordial unity of the universe. The creation of the world and the creation of man had divided and reduced the creator's power, since everything in existence possessed a spark of his power. Salvation, therefore, consisted in collecting his power, and leading it back to its original condition."

Theoretically speaking, this theological stance is not too far from biblical thinking: it is a collage of the doctrine of imago dei from Genesis, with the Logos theology of the Gospel of John and the eschatological idea of recapitulatio of Paul. However, the Phibionites diverge from scriptural thinking when the question of the nature of that divine presence in humanity is raised. To them the most sacred substance, thus the divine substance, is the substance which humanity possesses and which controls life and non-life, namely the sexual fluids. Epiphanius explains
But, say they, if one becomes privy to this knowledge and gathers himself from the world through the menses and semen, he is detained here no longer: he gets up above these archons. They say that he passes Sabaoth by and--with impudent blasphemy--that he treads on his head. And thus he mounts above him to the height, where the Mother of all living, Barbero or Barbelo, is; and thus the soul is saved. (26, 10, 9-10)

Like most gnostic systems, the Phibionites' is one of journeying, of ascension, of successive purification, and of return to the Pleroma. Salvation comes through a sacrifice, a perfect offering, that of Christ, of one's divine nature, a personal kenosis restoring the primal unity. Theirs also is an ascesis, a long rigid process of liberation from the power of the archons.
Those of them who are called Phibionites offer their vile sacrifices of fornication, [...], in 365 names which they themselves have invented for archons, if you please. They thus make fools of their female partners and say, "Lie with me, that I may offer you to the archons." And at each sexual act they pronounce an outlandish name of one of their fictitious archons, and pray, if you please, and say, "I offer this to thee, So-and-so, that thou mayest offer it to So-and-so." [...] And until he progresses, or rather, regresses, through 365 instances of copulation, he calls on some name at each, and does the same sort of thing. Then he starts back down through the same series [...]. Now when he reaches a total as great as 730 instances--I mean of unnatural unions and the names they make up--then, after that, a man of this sort has the courage to say, "I am Christ, for I have descended from on high through the names of the 365 archons!" (26, 9, 6-9)

But why sex? Begging the question one can propose "because the myth says so!" And that it does. Barbelo, herself an emission of the Father, engendered Ialdabaoth/Sabaoth. Invoking the words of the God of the Old Testament (Is. 44: 6), the latter took possession of the seventh heaven and ruled it with great carelessness. "But Barbelo has heard this said, and weeps. And continually appears to the archons in some beautiful form and, through their climax and ejaculation, takes their seed--to recover her power, if you please, which has been sown in various of them." (25, 2, 4) It is difficult to know which of the myth or the ritual came first. According to Filoramo, "[i]n pagan mystery cults theology develops from ritual. In the new religious movements, however, unless it is expressly rejected, ritual becomes an expression of theology." Hence in this case, we can assume the latter scenario and conclude that ritual sex has very little to do with pleasure but is a religious act of worship which is both anemnetic and soteriological.

Furthermore, in a comparative study of light and semen as divine substances, Eliade examined the Phibionite theological and liturgical paradigm, asserting that "the ultimate goal of the Phibionites's sexual rituals was, on the one hand, to accelerate the reintegration of the precosmic stage, that is, the "end of the world," and, on the other hand, to approach God through a progressive "spermatization." [...T]he genital secretions represent the two divine modes of being, the God and the Goddess; consequently, their ritual consumption augments and accelerates the sanctification of the celebrants."

Thus the ritualization of the sexual encounter, according to the Eucharistic pattern, enables the participants to access the mysterium tremendum et fascinans, not externally and through mediators, but directly and in themselves. Thus there is a sense in which Phibionitism, unlike the Christianity of Epiphanius, is not corporate but individual.


Let us now turn to the question of women. Acting out of character, Epiphanius seems to be worried about the fate of women in the hands of the Phibionites. He accuses the men of several "crimes" against women: "they thus make fools of their female partners" (26, 9, 6), and "they deceive the womenfolk [...] who put their trust in them, and tell their female victims, 'So-and-so is a virgin.' And she has been debauched for years, and is being debauched daily!" (26, 11, 9). In turn, the deluded women, who boast of their beauty (a beauty which Epiphanius does not deny (26, 17, 8)!), tried to seduce him in his youth (26, 17, 4). He offers us a picture of a bunch of naïve and silly women, yet damned and wicked.

However, if we pay close attention to the text itself, we discern a rather different image: an image of equality, if not reverence, for women; that equality perhaps being an intrinsic feature of both Alexandrian life and Christian gnosticism, as W. Meeks would imply. How does this sense of equality reveal itself? It primarily occur at the level of the Barbelo myth. Indeed, even if Christ, in the Phibionite system as in Nicaean Christianity, plays a significant salvific role, it is however the figure of Barbelo who originates the soteriological unfolding. It is she who gathers the seed of the archons; it is she who guides the ritual life of the community. Hence the place of the woman in the sex act is insured, as representative of Barbelo.

What is more, Phibionitism has been called a "Sperm-Cult" and it is. But the text tells us that the perfect sacrifice is composed of the semen plus the female fluids (sexual secretion and menses). Thus, to borrow from Goehring, "While the Phibionite inclusion of the menses in their ritual may be impart a result of the influence of the eucharistic pattern of "body and blood," it nonetheless argues for the high regard of the female partner. She is not just a victim used to withdraw the female element. She too contains a part of the divine which must and can be gathered!"
I find in this sense of equality an interesting similarity with Coptic Asclepius which I have already quoted.

Outside of the ritual arena, Phibionite women enjoyed a particular status which freed them from the bonds and norms of their society. Within the cultus, they served as link between the world and their community. Indeed, it was the women who tried to seduce Epiphanius. That incident perhaps indicates their function: missionaries. If so, we are witness a shift in gender position: a collapse of the private and the public and a reversal of fortunes, placing the woman in the realm of the public. This shift is further actualized by the rejection of monogamy (26, 4, 1, and 4, 4), if not marriage altogether, and child birth (26, 5, 2-5).

In conclusion then, as Goehring puts it, "it is fair to say that there were Phibionite women who were instrumental in the group's development and that they found in the group an avenue to express their release from societal constraints imposed upon them by their sex. The libertine path offered this possibility to some women in much the same way that the ascetic path did for others."
To that I would add that, unlike their ascetic counterparts, the Phibionites even in their contempt for the world, engaged fully in the upkeep of the flesh. Hence we cannot say that like other gnostics they completely despised the created order--perhaps under the influence of their Egyptian ancestors' optimism (spiritual if not physical). Indeed,"Man and woman, they pamper their bodies night and day, anointing themselves, bathing, feasting, spending their time in whoring and drunkenness. And they curse whoever fasts and say, "Fasting is wrong; fasting belongs to this archon who made the world. We must take nourishment to make our bodies strong, and able to render their fruit in its season." (26, 5, 8)



The social repercussions effected by a sect like the Phibionites upon its society are numerous and varied. We have just mentioned how much of a challenge to the established order were the annihilation of gender roles through promiscuity and the control of procreation, and the involvement of women into the public sphere. There is a sense in which Phibionism stands the most virulent attack of Late Antiquity mores, as it calls for complete freedom. Can we thus term Phibionite ethic antinomian? Epiphanius would say yes. But I think there is more.

Jonas wrote that "the purest and most radical expression of the metaphysical revolt is moral nihilism." One could apply this definition to the Phibionites, and thus justify a label of antinomianism. However I do not think that they actually are metaphysically nihilist. Epiphanius gives no indication one way or the other so we are left to our own speculative mind. But I would argue that if indeed they were nihilist, then what would be the point of a soteriological race? Why then does humanity concern itself with its salvation, and willingly involves itself in the process? Instead, the Phibionite ethic is one of freedom, but a freedom which revolves around the promise of the possibility of knowledge, upon the guarantee of result, of a new dispensation, of an endzeit under the rule of the true god.

i don't remember what grade i received for this paper. i think it was less that i expected, but i truly enjoyed writing it.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

the sempiternal flaming bag of poop

not too long ago, my better and smarter half got on this kick of watching old SNL chris farley skits, especially "the motivational speaker" ones. i joined him as matt foley, thrice divorced, living in a van down by the river, was one of my favorite characters (along with christopher walken's "the continental"). in case you don't know, here's the wikipedia article on him.
or better, here's the halloween special.
stupid, eh? yeah, i know. makes me laugh everytime but i'm a numbnut.

international puerile humor
the part about the flaming bag is what concerns us in this video. here's a case of classic puerile humor: i stick some dog poop, which in itself is pretty disgusting, in a paperbag. i put the bag on someone's doorstep, set it on fire, which is moronic, dangerous even, and i ring the doorbell. just like our friend matt foley here, the person opening the door has no choice but to put the fire out by stepping on the bag. and of course, as poor fido always has a hand in it, the unsuspecting victim gets smelly dog turd all over his/her carpet. (by the way, i actually found a website which gave step by step instructions. frightening, really.) it's wrong, it's sick, and yet, somehow, this disgusting tradition perpetuates itself.

i was going to add 'it's such a boy thing to do' but then i remembered that when i was a kid, growing up in europe, we had a 'girl version' of it. we used to take an old wallet or handbag or coin purse, fill it with dog or cat poop and leave it on the sidewalk. needless to say, it would get picked up. now, if we were lucky, the person would simply pick it up, walk a few meters away and have a peep, only to throw it away in disgust and anger, possibly swearing at us. instant gratification and laughter. but as we were twisted european children with odd taste and perverted humor, we got even greater pleasure when the person didn't have a look and instead pocketed the purse. glee and delight to know that our victim was going to discover his/her ill-gotten treasure at home, in his/her kitchen... mouaaaaahhh...
now that i am an adult, i'm glad to see that the practise has lost ground, but i'm secretely hoping, however, that it never dies.

hey, pull my finger.
scientists still don't know why we laugh but we do, and often at really dumb things. i'm a 43 year-old harvard graduate and i still laugh at beavis and butthead. furthermore, beyond its sophomoric humor, i believe it is a probant portrayal of american suburbia but i digress.

so, why do such asinine scatological pranks amuse us?
is it because, as instigators of the prank, we have managed to transcend the fear of the primal taboo which is the handling of excrement (the other primal taboo is death) and are now different from the rest, from those who are still afraid of smell and defecation? we are free of certain societal mores, of the artificial dos and donts instilled in us by our parents, our family, our teachers, our religion. so our humor, our laughter, become a mockery of the world, of those enslaved by appearance and uptightness.

or is it because, as witnesses, on the other hand, we seek to hide our deep fears behind our laughter? we laugh a nervous laugh, hoping the joke will not be on us, because we have not yet transcended these taboos.

or again, is it simply because we need to laugh, to relieve the stress of family life, the pressure of work, mortgages and car payments. we laugh when people fall. we laugh when guys accidentally get hit in the nads. we laugh when animals try to hump. we laugh when someone inadventently farts.

we laugh at smarter things too, like puns and jokes, cartoons or political satire. but it's not the same for it implies a certain degree of intelligence or at least an intellectual effort. it's not spontaneous, it's not visceral, and ultimately, i think it's not as effective in terms of stress relief. ok, yes molière's tartuffe. it's brillant and funny and witty - in short, that is good humor - but compared to judd apatow's knocked-up... uh, i rest my case.

Monday, June 21, 2010

why i love the internet

this is gonna be a recurring theme, i think. hmm, why i love the internet? because it's full of crazy things like an old chest in the attic, fruitcake ideas, beautiful images, politics, distrubing music, ads, news, more or less true, more ads, sports, dumbass videos, cooking recipes, and, my all-time favorite, blogs.

i had a few minutes to kill at work so i decided to press the 'next blog' button on my own blog. oh boy, oh boy... mexican alternative music, a small town sports team, the fluffly and very pink diary of a cyber princess, something about soccer rules and the difference between them in israel and palestine (sarcastic, obviously), art, art and more art, and more mexican alternative music and this, the best, so here's a plug, my freind, free of charge: habermas...
yeah, freakin' habermas. i haven't seen that name in print since i left harvard. oh, and let's talk about derrida and foucault, while we're at it. sure, why not? i still got a few more minutes to kill. well good, because my new best friend here also has a foucault blog.

right on, modernity rules, man.

ah, you gotta love the internet. how refreshing!

Sunday, June 20, 2010

watching movies .... reservoir dogs

i vividly remember when i first saw reservoir dogs. it was at the brattle theater in cambridge in the summer of 94 while i was still in grad school. i went to see it with my two buddies, tim and charlie. i didn't know what to expect; i had never heard of that tarantino guy.
when i came out of the theater that night, my brain was reeling, my mind was blown. it was a new kind of film, loud, fast, violent, complex. it was brilliant. i loved it. i went back to see it again a week later, i was so flabergasted.

i saw it again much later, maybe 5 or 6 years later. by that time, that genre was old hat. pulp fiction had already come out. we were all too used to the tarantino style of intricate story telling and uncensored use of violence. so when i saw it again, it had lost its magic. i was a bit bothered by the ear scene. it seems to be all the movie was about. wasn't sure then whether i ever wanted to see it again. it seems wrong.

a couple years ago or so, i came across a boxset of reservoir dogs at a very good price. i figured 'hey, what the hell, it's a classic, ain't it?' and i bought it. the box sat on the shelf, gathering dust, until a few weeks ago, when my better half decided to plop it in the machine. i was a bit anxious at first, but within a few minutes, i fell once again under the spell of that brillant flick.
but not the same reasons.
i didn't find the movie loud, fast and violent; on the contrary, it seemed slow and deliberate. Keitel and Roth in some abandoned warehouse, argueing, pacing, shouting, two men, one room too big for them, waiting. it reminded me of a theater play, something Chekov could have imagined. and i shocked me at the realization that a large chunk of the movie takes place in the stillness of the warehouse. the ear scene became irrelevant, the robbery, the gangsters, the clever dialog in the coffee shop, all this was not the movie. no. the tension, the love, the respect, the trust between these two men, that was the movie. a simple story, really.

i don't think i'm gonna watch it again for a long time. i don't need too for now. i need let it rest for another decade in a cool dark place like a good bottle of wine.

Friday, January 1, 2010

a new year

i wrote the following in my agenda last year, on new year's day:

this day should not be in the calendar. it is a non-day. most of it is wasted in bed, and the rest on the couch, vegging out.
i woke up around noon, slight hangover from the festivities of the night before, but nothing major. i woke up to a peaceful town. not a sound outside but for a couple pigeons pecking at some leftovers spilling from the morning trash.
and in my half-awakened slumber, i thanked god for this peace. a short silent prayer. no sounds, no bombs, no fears, no distress.
and the lingering hangover became a joy, a blessing, for it meant that we still lived in fat times, and we still could enjoy our leasurely life, albeit poor. and i smiled, alone in the street, for i realized that sometimes it doesn't take much to make you feel blessed.


this year again i woke up very very late with a slight hangover. and this year too i am glad to still be alive and well. but i woke up with a kind of funk. i have an eerie feeling about this coming year. everyone around has cursed 2009 - for me it was a rather quiet year, nothing exceptional at all. i can't say 2009 was bad. but i am afraid of 2010 and i don't know why.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Days we never forget

i only remember one thing : the silence... the silence which comes after the sudden disappearance of human activity.

it was a warm fall morning, kids were back in school and the lightheartedness of summer has vanished. but the usually busy wide streets were desolate, empty, quiet. big blue fresno sky above us, also empty, quiet, planeless, with only a few daring birds to break the eerie peace.

the rest - what i will never forget - is the loud stream of news flashes, starting at 7 am, california time.
i’m not really sure of what i saw but i’m sure of what happened.
the phone rang; it was our good friend veron on the line, asking if we'd seen cnn. we didn’t have cnn anymore, only french satelite TV, as we were preparing to move to france. but the horror proved to be the same.
there i stood, in the living room, mouth open, eyes filling up with tears as the second tower fell.

we got dressed, no shower, and drove over to veron’s. spent the morning watching cnn. the phone didn’t stop ringing as everybody wanted to know where everybody esle was. safe hopefully. i finally called in to my job, telling my supervisor i wasn’t going to be in. i was shocked to find out some people had gone in. nothing got done anyways, as i learned later, for everyone was glued to the TV.

and still, outside, the deep frightening silence of doom. in our hearts, a sickness that would never leave, in our minds, a fear that would never die, in our eyes, the flames, the planes, the dust, the dead, the tears.

i will never forget that warm Tuesday morning of september, that morning when America saw the world as it truly is.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

on the communion of saints

let me start by saying that i'm not known as the 'touchy-feely' type. ask my friends, or my brother ... any of them.
but this morning, doing my little daily facebook inspection tour before getting on with my otherwise meaningless work, i noticed a message in my inbox. i don't get much of these. it was from an old friend, a person i had not seen in - oh dear - 20 years. i was happy, smiling (even my co-worker was wondering if i'd won the lottery or somethin'), almost ready to hug someone. I snapped out of it quickly, don't worry.

all morning i kept on thinking of the people i've known, here, there, in france, in california, in boston, in england, in germany, when i was young and foolish and now that i am old(er) and grumpy.
I thought of all the people who have helped me along the way, financially, emotionally, spiritually.
I thought of the people i have loved, the ones i have hated, the ones i have forgiven, the ones i have lost.
i thought of the ones i have hurt, dismissed, damaged. and the ones i have cherished, cared for, helped out.

for me, all these people, the good, the bad and the ugly, stand as a communion of saints on the altar of my psyche, a deep and rich reservoir of lessons learned, of tears shed or joys shared.
and this wealth, this depth of feelings and experiences, guides me every day, prevents me from making the same mistakes over again, and encourages when doubt overtakes my soul.

when i was younger, i could not understand that phrase in the new testament ... the communion of saints. yes, of course, all the saints of the early church. but that wasn't concrete enough.

now however, i am beginning to understand that it is the sum total of all those who touch us, in one way or another, and who shape our being so that we may fulfill our potential as children of god.
the communion of saints is not just the people we love - that would be too easy. it is also, and perhaps more importantly, those with whom we struggle.
the communion of saints is not just those who have left us, who have passed on, who have gone. it is also those with whom we live here and now.
the communion of saints is not just the 'good' people who have nurtured and taught us. it is also the bad influences, the ones who got us in trouble, the ones who made us do idiotic things, the ones who tore us away from our families and friends.
it is also the ones who don't think or act or look like us, who don't believe like us, who don't pray or vote like us, the ones who challenge us, who bother us, who disgust us.

yes, the communion of saints is the sum total of all those who touch us. and i also am a part of it.