I should also say, "excuse me", when I burp internally.
Thursday, February 28, 2019
Tuesday, February 26, 2019
Capharnaüm
An angry mature child boldly fights against Lebanese injustice, his sharp shrewd awareness driving his impoverished family mad.
Their poverty is severe and opportunity is non-existent.
Without public education, healthcare, a social safety net, or any knowledge of birth control, they rely solely on religious teachings for strength, while others take advantage of their suffering.
Yet public institutions, collective means through which to sustain a community, don't necessarily exist in opposition to religious practices.
If I'm not mistaken, they're in fact the product of such practices, religious practices secularly upheld.
People in Europe and elsewhere came together some time ago and forged resilient groups that recognized they were stronger united as one, had more bargaining power, more clout, that recognized that every child could have access to education and healthcare if democratically elected political representatives sought to dynamically change socioeconomic conditions which promoted a neverending cycle of poverty, and they then elected political reps who did indeed make such changes.
The changes were by no means perfect, are not perfect, although they seek perfection, but they did lift millions of people out of poverty and at least taught them to read and write while promoting healthy productive and contraceptive lifestyles.
This isn't a Western thing, a European thing, it's a humanistic sociopolitical development that was rationally created by a sociocultural adherence to a respected scientific method.
Take an illness like measles.
Measles used to detrimentally effect millions of children in Europe and elsewhere but scientists studied the disease and found a cure and now it only rarely emerges when people don't vaccinate their children.
The anti-vac movement is one of the most shortsighted cultural developments on record, and would see millions of children suffering from diseases brilliant women and men more or less eradicated if it was ever taken seriously.
I ask you, would God not promote science? Would God not promote a world where we teach ourselves to humanistically take care of people rather than relying on his or her benevolence?
I imagine millions of people prayed that their children wouldn't get measles, but still millions and millions of children got measles, and then scientists found a cure, a cure for measles, thereby answering the prayers of millions of parents and enabling a world where parents didn't have to pray their children wouldn't get it.
Capharnaüm isn't about measles.
It's about poverty and lack of opportunity.
The situation's bleak and the non-existent opportunities heartbreakingly chronicle millions of prayers left unanswered.
Non-violent collective action in many countries led to situations where opportunity was at least possible and education was indeed probable.
It wasn't easy.
But the results are somewhat miraculous.
It's not about one child getting an identity card because he tenaciously fights powers that be.
It's about that child forming groups that promote public education and healthcare and the creation of a social safety net which effectively fights poverty.
That scientifically and secularly applies age old religious principles.
With actual concrete results.
That dynamically challenge and change things.
Like the horrendous happenings in this film.
It's not for the lighthearted.
But tells a tale you'll find nowhere else.
Powerful filmmaking.
Gifted storytelling.
A light.
A crucible.
Their poverty is severe and opportunity is non-existent.
Without public education, healthcare, a social safety net, or any knowledge of birth control, they rely solely on religious teachings for strength, while others take advantage of their suffering.
Yet public institutions, collective means through which to sustain a community, don't necessarily exist in opposition to religious practices.
If I'm not mistaken, they're in fact the product of such practices, religious practices secularly upheld.
People in Europe and elsewhere came together some time ago and forged resilient groups that recognized they were stronger united as one, had more bargaining power, more clout, that recognized that every child could have access to education and healthcare if democratically elected political representatives sought to dynamically change socioeconomic conditions which promoted a neverending cycle of poverty, and they then elected political reps who did indeed make such changes.
The changes were by no means perfect, are not perfect, although they seek perfection, but they did lift millions of people out of poverty and at least taught them to read and write while promoting healthy productive and contraceptive lifestyles.
This isn't a Western thing, a European thing, it's a humanistic sociopolitical development that was rationally created by a sociocultural adherence to a respected scientific method.
Take an illness like measles.
Measles used to detrimentally effect millions of children in Europe and elsewhere but scientists studied the disease and found a cure and now it only rarely emerges when people don't vaccinate their children.
The anti-vac movement is one of the most shortsighted cultural developments on record, and would see millions of children suffering from diseases brilliant women and men more or less eradicated if it was ever taken seriously.
I ask you, would God not promote science? Would God not promote a world where we teach ourselves to humanistically take care of people rather than relying on his or her benevolence?
I imagine millions of people prayed that their children wouldn't get measles, but still millions and millions of children got measles, and then scientists found a cure, a cure for measles, thereby answering the prayers of millions of parents and enabling a world where parents didn't have to pray their children wouldn't get it.
Capharnaüm isn't about measles.
It's about poverty and lack of opportunity.
The situation's bleak and the non-existent opportunities heartbreakingly chronicle millions of prayers left unanswered.
Non-violent collective action in many countries led to situations where opportunity was at least possible and education was indeed probable.
It wasn't easy.
But the results are somewhat miraculous.
It's not about one child getting an identity card because he tenaciously fights powers that be.
It's about that child forming groups that promote public education and healthcare and the creation of a social safety net which effectively fights poverty.
That scientifically and secularly applies age old religious principles.
With actual concrete results.
That dynamically challenge and change things.
Like the horrendous happenings in this film.
It's not for the lighthearted.
But tells a tale you'll find nowhere else.
Powerful filmmaking.
Gifted storytelling.
A light.
A crucible.
Monday, February 25, 2019
I guess one way to save the planet is to grow meat in labs that tastes identical to farm raised meat and then substitute it for farm raised meat in burgers etc. around the globe, without telling anyone.
While amply compensating effected farmers and helping them transform their farms into ecotourism venues.
Could work.
While amply compensating effected farmers and helping them transform their farms into ecotourism venues.
Could work.
Saturday, February 23, 2019
Iciclic
Plunging elemental cryo
genic calisthenic hiero
diptyched polar centigrade
tempestuous ping ponged cascade
the temp'rature in idle flux
routinely stakes a downward thrust
in fetters polled immobilized
nothing escapes consoled descried
but just as often lo as swift
ascending elevations crypt
a brief respite aquatic bellows
shades of aeronautic cello
skates applied the ice so thick
you freely glide throughout the pitch
aware the clockworked salty morrow
frees the blizzard's uptight toro
exhale.
*The weather keeps fluctuating but a pattern's developed. A couple days a week it's brutally cold, then the temperature goes up and everything starts melting, then it drops and the water freezes, then there's more snow.
genic calisthenic hiero
diptyched polar centigrade
tempestuous ping ponged cascade
the temp'rature in idle flux
routinely stakes a downward thrust
in fetters polled immobilized
nothing escapes consoled descried
but just as often lo as swift
ascending elevations crypt
a brief respite aquatic bellows
shades of aeronautic cello
skates applied the ice so thick
you freely glide throughout the pitch
aware the clockworked salty morrow
frees the blizzard's uptight toro
exhale.
*The weather keeps fluctuating but a pattern's developed. A couple days a week it's brutally cold, then the temperature goes up and everything starts melting, then it drops and the water freezes, then there's more snow.
Friday, February 22, 2019
Serenity
Something strange, something not quite right, in Serenity's opening moments.
Throughout the first half of the film.
There's a vague concealed derelict somnambulistic longing haunting social relations in the beginning, like a prolonged robot hangover that's been nauseously programmed.
Disaffection, I kept thinking, I'm bound to hear the word "surreal" used to describe this film, as if its otherworldliness is a product of subconscious reckoning, as opposed to a McFlurry saturated with kalúha.
That sounds good.
But you could use the word surreal to describe it, as it progresses, in the commercial sense, like you would use it if you were still caught up in the mainstream, still unfamiliar with less traditional surrealistic applications.
Boldly crafting alternative traditions of their own.
The surrealism becomes more pronounced and less McDreamy after down-on-his-luck fisherperson Baker Dill (Matthew McConaughey) is tasked with murdering his ex-wife's (Anne Hathaway as Karen Zariakas) utterly loathsome new husband (Jason Clarke as Frank Zariakas) to the tune of a vindictive 10 million.
It's not just that though, there's something else, something more subtle, more puzzling, more disorienting, more real.
Or surreal I suppose. 😉
A salesperson (Jeremy Strong as Reid Miller) shows up with the kind of clarification that doesn't prove or explain anything yet still shuffles the narrative off to different directions, a clever intriguingly frustrating device often used on shows like Twin Peaks or The X-Files, that keeps you genuinely desiring more even if the obscurity leaves you wanting.
The resultant delirium is quite surreal as an identity transformation bewilderingly transcends without any loss of the hermetic I.
The anxiety harrowingly increases at both conscious and unconscious levels as Baker continues to act under extreme existential duress.
The film's uninspiring first half is justified as an experimental work in progress, whose author was still crafting his own remarkable tensions, the film as a whole perhaps meant to metaphorically present a film lover's growth, as they start looking beyond commercial horizons to something less pronounced and material.
It's a strong synthesis of the blasé and the risk-fuelled that comments upon these concepts without saying anything, a mind-meld of the traditional and the experimental that effectively synergizes hesitant abandon.
Looking forward to seeing more of what Steven Knight has to offer.
I'm reminded of Tarsem Singh.
Not sure as to why.
Throughout the first half of the film.
There's a vague concealed derelict somnambulistic longing haunting social relations in the beginning, like a prolonged robot hangover that's been nauseously programmed.
Disaffection, I kept thinking, I'm bound to hear the word "surreal" used to describe this film, as if its otherworldliness is a product of subconscious reckoning, as opposed to a McFlurry saturated with kalúha.
That sounds good.
But you could use the word surreal to describe it, as it progresses, in the commercial sense, like you would use it if you were still caught up in the mainstream, still unfamiliar with less traditional surrealistic applications.
Boldly crafting alternative traditions of their own.
The surrealism becomes more pronounced and less McDreamy after down-on-his-luck fisherperson Baker Dill (Matthew McConaughey) is tasked with murdering his ex-wife's (Anne Hathaway as Karen Zariakas) utterly loathsome new husband (Jason Clarke as Frank Zariakas) to the tune of a vindictive 10 million.
It's not just that though, there's something else, something more subtle, more puzzling, more disorienting, more real.
Or surreal I suppose. 😉
A salesperson (Jeremy Strong as Reid Miller) shows up with the kind of clarification that doesn't prove or explain anything yet still shuffles the narrative off to different directions, a clever intriguingly frustrating device often used on shows like Twin Peaks or The X-Files, that keeps you genuinely desiring more even if the obscurity leaves you wanting.
The resultant delirium is quite surreal as an identity transformation bewilderingly transcends without any loss of the hermetic I.
The anxiety harrowingly increases at both conscious and unconscious levels as Baker continues to act under extreme existential duress.
The film's uninspiring first half is justified as an experimental work in progress, whose author was still crafting his own remarkable tensions, the film as a whole perhaps meant to metaphorically present a film lover's growth, as they start looking beyond commercial horizons to something less pronounced and material.
It's a strong synthesis of the blasé and the risk-fuelled that comments upon these concepts without saying anything, a mind-meld of the traditional and the experimental that effectively synergizes hesitant abandon.
Looking forward to seeing more of what Steven Knight has to offer.
I'm reminded of Tarsem Singh.
Not sure as to why.
Thursday, February 21, 2019
Oscar Picks 2019
Some Oscar picks:
Actress in a Supporting Role: Emma Stone (The Favourite)
Actor in a Supporting Role: Richard E. Grant (Can You Ever Forgive Me?)
Cinematography: Alfonso Cuarón (Roma)
Costume Design: Sandy Powell (Mary Poppins Returns)
Film Editing: Barry Alexander Brown (BlacKkKlansman)
Makeup and Hairstyling: Jenny Shircore, Marc Pilcher, and Jessica Brooks (Mary Queen of Scots)
Production Design: Nathan Crowley (Production Design) and Bárbara Enríquez (Set Decoration) (Roma)
Short Film (Animated): Louise Bagnall and Nuria González Blanco (Late Afternoon)
Short Film (Live Action): Marianne Farley and Marie-Hélène Panisset (Marguerite)
Documentary (Short Subject): Rayka Zehtabchi and Melissa Berton (Period. End of Sentence.)
Visual Effects: Christopher Lawrence, Michael Eames, Theo Jones, and Chris Corbould (Christopher Robin)
Writing (Adapted Screenplay): Charlie Wachtel, David Rabinowitz, Kevin Willmott, and Spike Lee (BlacKkKlansman)
Writing (Original Screenplay): Nick Vallelonga, Brian Currie, and Peter Farrelly (Green Book)
Actor in a Leading Role: Rami Malek (Bohemian Rhapsody)
Actress in a Leading Role: Glenn Close (The Wife)
Directing: Spike Lee (BlacKkKlansman)
Best Picture: Ceci Dempsey, Ed Guiney, Lee Magiday, and Yorgos Lanthimos (The Favourite)
Notes: I suppose Roma could win many awards, it's an outstanding film that excels on multiple levels. But, and perhaps I'm being old-fashioned here, I'm still not ready to fully endorse a film that was released on Netflix and never hit theatres (as far as I know). Watching a film at home and seeing one in theatres is a remarkably different experience, and the other nominees were shown in theatres and therefore I can't give Roma the special treatment it would otherwise deserve. Harrumph.
If Roma doesn't clean up the only categories that seem locked down to me are Actress in a Leading Role (Glenn Close) and Music (Original Song) (Shallow by Lady Gaga [preferred The Place Where Lost Things Go myself]). Rami Malek was outstanding but so was Viggo Mortensen. All of the nominees for Actor in a Supporting Role could win. It would be amazing to see Spike Lee win. Mother was an exceptional Live Action Short Film. Who knows for Visual Effects? Every screenplay nominated is a contender. Although I'd be surprised if Green Book didn't win most Original.
As to Best Picture, as I cruise around town and consider the impressions the nominees made on me, I have to admit that every time I choose one, another pops into my head and I think, yup, that one could win too. Without Roma as a sure thing, I really can't say who'll come out on top with any conviction. Could be The Favourite, could be Green Book. BlacKkKlansman has style. As does Bohemian Rhapsody.
I've never been more unsure of Oscar winners in my life.
Which makes the 2019 Oscars exciting.
And that isn't too bad come to think of it.
Not too bad at all.
*Rachel Weisz was very good in The Favourite too. I love Emma Stone, but Weisz might take it. Or someone else.
Actress in a Supporting Role: Emma Stone (The Favourite)
Actor in a Supporting Role: Richard E. Grant (Can You Ever Forgive Me?)
Cinematography: Alfonso Cuarón (Roma)
Costume Design: Sandy Powell (Mary Poppins Returns)
Film Editing: Barry Alexander Brown (BlacKkKlansman)
Makeup and Hairstyling: Jenny Shircore, Marc Pilcher, and Jessica Brooks (Mary Queen of Scots)
Production Design: Nathan Crowley (Production Design) and Bárbara Enríquez (Set Decoration) (Roma)
Short Film (Animated): Louise Bagnall and Nuria González Blanco (Late Afternoon)
Short Film (Live Action): Marianne Farley and Marie-Hélène Panisset (Marguerite)
Documentary (Short Subject): Rayka Zehtabchi and Melissa Berton (Period. End of Sentence.)
Visual Effects: Christopher Lawrence, Michael Eames, Theo Jones, and Chris Corbould (Christopher Robin)
Writing (Adapted Screenplay): Charlie Wachtel, David Rabinowitz, Kevin Willmott, and Spike Lee (BlacKkKlansman)
Writing (Original Screenplay): Nick Vallelonga, Brian Currie, and Peter Farrelly (Green Book)
Actor in a Leading Role: Rami Malek (Bohemian Rhapsody)
Actress in a Leading Role: Glenn Close (The Wife)
Directing: Spike Lee (BlacKkKlansman)
Best Picture: Ceci Dempsey, Ed Guiney, Lee Magiday, and Yorgos Lanthimos (The Favourite)
Notes: I suppose Roma could win many awards, it's an outstanding film that excels on multiple levels. But, and perhaps I'm being old-fashioned here, I'm still not ready to fully endorse a film that was released on Netflix and never hit theatres (as far as I know). Watching a film at home and seeing one in theatres is a remarkably different experience, and the other nominees were shown in theatres and therefore I can't give Roma the special treatment it would otherwise deserve. Harrumph.
If Roma doesn't clean up the only categories that seem locked down to me are Actress in a Leading Role (Glenn Close) and Music (Original Song) (Shallow by Lady Gaga [preferred The Place Where Lost Things Go myself]). Rami Malek was outstanding but so was Viggo Mortensen. All of the nominees for Actor in a Supporting Role could win. It would be amazing to see Spike Lee win. Mother was an exceptional Live Action Short Film. Who knows for Visual Effects? Every screenplay nominated is a contender. Although I'd be surprised if Green Book didn't win most Original.
As to Best Picture, as I cruise around town and consider the impressions the nominees made on me, I have to admit that every time I choose one, another pops into my head and I think, yup, that one could win too. Without Roma as a sure thing, I really can't say who'll come out on top with any conviction. Could be The Favourite, could be Green Book. BlacKkKlansman has style. As does Bohemian Rhapsody.
I've never been more unsure of Oscar winners in my life.
Which makes the 2019 Oscars exciting.
And that isn't too bad come to think of it.
Not too bad at all.
*Rachel Weisz was very good in The Favourite too. I love Emma Stone, but Weisz might take it. Or someone else.
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
Liu Lang Di Qiu
In the not too distant future, our sun can support terrestrial life no longer.
Seeking to avoid humanity's extinction, countries around the world internationally forge the United Earth Government.
And it is decided that a new sun must be sought in the Alpha Centauri system, and that Earth must be propelled there by gigantic fusion powered thrusters strategically located around the imperilled globe.
As the Earth's rotation ceases, after the jets are turned on, colossal tidal waves shock the surface dwelling population, many others eventually finding refuge beneath its inhospitable crust.
These subterranean cities bravely incubate civilization and boldly rear the next generation with feisty underground enterprise.
But Earth's path leads it too close to miserly Jupiter, whose cruel and voracious gravity gravely threaten interstellar propulsion.
Fortunately, two mischievous youths, a brother and sister no less, have recklessly made their way to the frozen surface, strict punishment swiftly awaiting, as massive earthquakes malign worldwide.
Little did they know, when they set out that day, that they would become integral leaders in a wild improvised effort to reignite the disabled thrusters and break free from Jupiter's clutches.
The world desperately requiring resolve.
The planet galactically inducing their reckoning.
Frant Gwo's Liu Lang Di Qiu takes sci-fi to another level, courageously imagining the most distraught of extremes, then audaciously presenting them with enriched hope-fuelled probability.
Manifold variables are symphonically strung as tumultuous dispersals chaotically sizzle.
Catastrophe strikes with dependable fidelity as constant threats harken cold glacial stark entropy.
Team-based integrity internationally coalesced accentuates cooperative benefits that unleash instincts eternal.
Identity politics challenge concepts of belonging as shortsighted prejudices are critiqued and exposed.
The world, faced with an overwhelming discombobulating uprooting discourteous challenge, comes together to thwart impossibility, ensuring continuous life thereby, plus innovative infused prosperity.
As it should to combat global warming.
In an unprecedented aware multilateral interconnected age.
It would have been cool if there had been more animals in the underground cities.
A planetary meow.
An altruistic bark.
Seeking to avoid humanity's extinction, countries around the world internationally forge the United Earth Government.
And it is decided that a new sun must be sought in the Alpha Centauri system, and that Earth must be propelled there by gigantic fusion powered thrusters strategically located around the imperilled globe.
As the Earth's rotation ceases, after the jets are turned on, colossal tidal waves shock the surface dwelling population, many others eventually finding refuge beneath its inhospitable crust.
These subterranean cities bravely incubate civilization and boldly rear the next generation with feisty underground enterprise.
But Earth's path leads it too close to miserly Jupiter, whose cruel and voracious gravity gravely threaten interstellar propulsion.
Fortunately, two mischievous youths, a brother and sister no less, have recklessly made their way to the frozen surface, strict punishment swiftly awaiting, as massive earthquakes malign worldwide.
Little did they know, when they set out that day, that they would become integral leaders in a wild improvised effort to reignite the disabled thrusters and break free from Jupiter's clutches.
The world desperately requiring resolve.
The planet galactically inducing their reckoning.
Frant Gwo's Liu Lang Di Qiu takes sci-fi to another level, courageously imagining the most distraught of extremes, then audaciously presenting them with enriched hope-fuelled probability.
Manifold variables are symphonically strung as tumultuous dispersals chaotically sizzle.
Catastrophe strikes with dependable fidelity as constant threats harken cold glacial stark entropy.
Team-based integrity internationally coalesced accentuates cooperative benefits that unleash instincts eternal.
Identity politics challenge concepts of belonging as shortsighted prejudices are critiqued and exposed.
The world, faced with an overwhelming discombobulating uprooting discourteous challenge, comes together to thwart impossibility, ensuring continuous life thereby, plus innovative infused prosperity.
As it should to combat global warming.
In an unprecedented aware multilateral interconnected age.
It would have been cool if there had been more animals in the underground cities.
A planetary meow.
An altruistic bark.
Monday, February 18, 2019
Sunday, February 17, 2019
It will be strange watching a CFL season next year with no team being coached by Wally Buono.
In a way, his presence in the CFL forged a stable steady tried-and-true link to so many decades of my life, and the lives of so many CFL fans.
Fare thee well, Wally Buono, in everything you do.
Formidable opponent of Hamilton and Montréal.
Winner of five Grey Cups.
And the most games by any coach in CFL history.
In a way, his presence in the CFL forged a stable steady tried-and-true link to so many decades of my life, and the lives of so many CFL fans.
Fare thee well, Wally Buono, in everything you do.
Formidable opponent of Hamilton and Montréal.
Winner of five Grey Cups.
And the most games by any coach in CFL history.
Saturday, February 16, 2019
Flurries
Inadvertently dispersing
spry materials rehearsing
micromechanized elapsed
environmental windstruck paths
to read the multivaried rhythms
with eclectic intuition
cyphered tundric elemental
meanings in/coherent sensual
twilit wild hurricanes
semantically windsweep refrains
their minutes so voluminous
they epically equip each speck of
dust like unique interstellar
prophecies inclement weather
skills once coveted perhaps
lie dormant seeking jade didacts.
spry materials rehearsing
micromechanized elapsed
environmental windstruck paths
to read the multivaried rhythms
with eclectic intuition
cyphered tundric elemental
meanings in/coherent sensual
twilit wild hurricanes
semantically windsweep refrains
their minutes so voluminous
they epically equip each speck of
dust like unique interstellar
prophecies inclement weather
skills once coveted perhaps
lie dormant seeking jade didacts.
Friday, February 15, 2019
Free Solo
It's simply incredible, what some people can do.
You look up at the mountains sometimes when you're visiting or living in mountainous regions, and wonder how in the hell people climb straight up them?, what drives them to take such risks?, on cliffs so sheer they redefine verticality, many of them climbing without gear, free soloing I believe it's called, totally dependent on their mastery of the elements, completely reliant on their will, and their will alone.
Incredible.
Exceptionally distinct athleticism.
I could never get into it, I was more into reading myself, reading thick books that built your vocabulary and challenged your mind in a different way, laidback reclining or chillin' on the métro, out in a field somewhere in Summer, always ready to pull out some impacting book, before watching films or television later on in the relaxing evening.
It's not even close to being slightly comparable to free soloing, but reading books is a lot like working out, working your mind out, indubitably.
After taking an extended break from Proust for instance, the first time I pick up The Search it's slow going, but if I make sure to read twenty pages, and then read twenty pages again each day for weeks then months I eventually find myself flying through the text, as if I've gone from lifting 80 to 200 pounds.
I hate weightlifting.
I was asked to do it once but after my friend saw the look on my face when he suggested it he never asked again.
But climbing mountains without gear, on rock faces which inspire fear in nimble surefooted mountain goats, death a real and imposing possibility, it's something I can't quite get my head around.
In this technological age, where it seems like web design is becoming the most stunning art form, video games are played by thousands of people forming international teams online, and coding is clearly the most valuable second or third language anyone can learn, I'm serious, public and private schools should be teaching coding starting in grade 1 and then all the way through to University, other countries already understand this and may excel accordingly in decades to come, people are still driven by raw primordial caveperson ingenuity to take nothing but a bit of chalk and some clothing, and mock impossibility with galant courageous alarm.
That's what Alex Honnold does in Free Solo, a documentary that follows him for some time as he prepares to climb Yosemite's El Capitan Wall, which no one has ever free soloed before.
The bravest most elite climbers in the world shiver when contemplating its danger, yet Mr. Honnold approaches like it's just another haughty cliff amongst many.
His partner Sanni is less lighthearted about his chosen career path and their relationship cultivates additional layers which add even more endearing amour to an inherently romantic film.
Blunt though it may be.
I had vertigo just watching from my seat in the theatre, totally blown away by Honnold's superlative athletic endeavours.
How many athletes can say they've done that?
An incredible film incredibly capturing feats that are purely incredible, Free Solo freely excels at reaching unique unparalleled heights.
It's not about asking why? or spending time pondering existence.
It's about action, raw caveperson action.
Like charting the Australian desert (In a Sunburned Country, Bill Bryson).
Intense highly specialized exposure.
You look up at the mountains sometimes when you're visiting or living in mountainous regions, and wonder how in the hell people climb straight up them?, what drives them to take such risks?, on cliffs so sheer they redefine verticality, many of them climbing without gear, free soloing I believe it's called, totally dependent on their mastery of the elements, completely reliant on their will, and their will alone.
Incredible.
Exceptionally distinct athleticism.
I could never get into it, I was more into reading myself, reading thick books that built your vocabulary and challenged your mind in a different way, laidback reclining or chillin' on the métro, out in a field somewhere in Summer, always ready to pull out some impacting book, before watching films or television later on in the relaxing evening.
It's not even close to being slightly comparable to free soloing, but reading books is a lot like working out, working your mind out, indubitably.
After taking an extended break from Proust for instance, the first time I pick up The Search it's slow going, but if I make sure to read twenty pages, and then read twenty pages again each day for weeks then months I eventually find myself flying through the text, as if I've gone from lifting 80 to 200 pounds.
I hate weightlifting.
I was asked to do it once but after my friend saw the look on my face when he suggested it he never asked again.
But climbing mountains without gear, on rock faces which inspire fear in nimble surefooted mountain goats, death a real and imposing possibility, it's something I can't quite get my head around.
In this technological age, where it seems like web design is becoming the most stunning art form, video games are played by thousands of people forming international teams online, and coding is clearly the most valuable second or third language anyone can learn, I'm serious, public and private schools should be teaching coding starting in grade 1 and then all the way through to University, other countries already understand this and may excel accordingly in decades to come, people are still driven by raw primordial caveperson ingenuity to take nothing but a bit of chalk and some clothing, and mock impossibility with galant courageous alarm.
That's what Alex Honnold does in Free Solo, a documentary that follows him for some time as he prepares to climb Yosemite's El Capitan Wall, which no one has ever free soloed before.
The bravest most elite climbers in the world shiver when contemplating its danger, yet Mr. Honnold approaches like it's just another haughty cliff amongst many.
His partner Sanni is less lighthearted about his chosen career path and their relationship cultivates additional layers which add even more endearing amour to an inherently romantic film.
Blunt though it may be.
I had vertigo just watching from my seat in the theatre, totally blown away by Honnold's superlative athletic endeavours.
How many athletes can say they've done that?
An incredible film incredibly capturing feats that are purely incredible, Free Solo freely excels at reaching unique unparalleled heights.
It's not about asking why? or spending time pondering existence.
It's about action, raw caveperson action.
Like charting the Australian desert (In a Sunburned Country, Bill Bryson).
Intense highly specialized exposure.
Thursday, February 14, 2019
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Merveilles des mers (Wonders of the Sea)
Merveilles des mers (Wonders of the Sea) takes an alternative approach to combing oceanic depths, one which primarily explores coral and species living within, as opposed to more flashy larger creatures such as dolphins, seals, or whales.
Fascinated by lifeforms that have perhaps never been the focus of a nature documentary, Jean-Michel Cousteau and his family patiently showcase stunning submerged ecosystems overflowing with incredible diversity.
If you're looking for a nature documentary that doesn't concentrate on traditional forms of aquatic character, Merveilles des mers surpasses expectations, its delicate caring enthusiastic cinematography nimbly capturing vital enriching expanses, in miniature, in select underwater habitats around the Aquarian globe.
From octopi to giant clams to shrimp to barnacles, Cousteau revels in seabed scintillation, his 3-D film beautifully exhibiting his discoveries, with inspiring interest in curious exotic life.
However, the narration is somewhat puzzling, perhaps due to its English translation.
It's certainly written for children aged 5 to 8 but still includes jokes that assume its audience is familiar with The Terminator.
It presents miraculous examples of life in various unheralded forms but rather oddly emphasizes its cold predatory nature.
Especially the coral, the coral is definitely not presented as if it's aesthetically appealing resplendent ambient decoration, no no no, the fact that it's a living breathing famished deadly carnivoresque entity is emphasized several times, as Cousteau, and Arnold Schwarzenegger (does he speak French in the French version?), exchange provocative comments with absorbed adolescent abandon, as if they're mischievously trying to frighten children, or perhaps had had a bit too much champagne on the old buoyant yachtski.
The dialogue and narration likely sounds more authentic in French, but when it was translated into English it appears that a Native English speaker (or Xavier Dolan) wasn't consulted to edit the final draft, and the result is rather clunky, a bit too general, even for young children (conversation's completely different, it's okay to make mistakes in conversation unless you're a spy, but this is a film that's trying to find an English audience, I suggest using subtitles if you're not confident with your translation, it's okay if subtitles sound cheesy).
David Suzuki clearly wasn't consulted.
I imagine Mr. Schwarzenegger could have rewritten many of his lines.
Nevertheless, the 3-D imagery is astounding and I applaud the film's focus on unsung mysteries of the depths.
Merveilles des mers celebrates life in its most remarkable unfamiliar forms throughout, and captures invaluable scenes that will undoubtably foster future investigations of what furtively lies beneath.
Hopefully, as we clean up the seas.
Shocking images of polluted waters around the globe as presented in Merveilles des mers are posted online every day.
It's not that hard to dispose of your waste in the proper receptacle.
It only takes an extra 2 to 3 seconds to recycle and it is not complicated.
The reward is a world that isn't covered in garbage.
It's that simple.
It really truly is.
Fascinated by lifeforms that have perhaps never been the focus of a nature documentary, Jean-Michel Cousteau and his family patiently showcase stunning submerged ecosystems overflowing with incredible diversity.
If you're looking for a nature documentary that doesn't concentrate on traditional forms of aquatic character, Merveilles des mers surpasses expectations, its delicate caring enthusiastic cinematography nimbly capturing vital enriching expanses, in miniature, in select underwater habitats around the Aquarian globe.
From octopi to giant clams to shrimp to barnacles, Cousteau revels in seabed scintillation, his 3-D film beautifully exhibiting his discoveries, with inspiring interest in curious exotic life.
However, the narration is somewhat puzzling, perhaps due to its English translation.
It's certainly written for children aged 5 to 8 but still includes jokes that assume its audience is familiar with The Terminator.
It presents miraculous examples of life in various unheralded forms but rather oddly emphasizes its cold predatory nature.
Especially the coral, the coral is definitely not presented as if it's aesthetically appealing resplendent ambient decoration, no no no, the fact that it's a living breathing famished deadly carnivoresque entity is emphasized several times, as Cousteau, and Arnold Schwarzenegger (does he speak French in the French version?), exchange provocative comments with absorbed adolescent abandon, as if they're mischievously trying to frighten children, or perhaps had had a bit too much champagne on the old buoyant yachtski.
The dialogue and narration likely sounds more authentic in French, but when it was translated into English it appears that a Native English speaker (or Xavier Dolan) wasn't consulted to edit the final draft, and the result is rather clunky, a bit too general, even for young children (conversation's completely different, it's okay to make mistakes in conversation unless you're a spy, but this is a film that's trying to find an English audience, I suggest using subtitles if you're not confident with your translation, it's okay if subtitles sound cheesy).
David Suzuki clearly wasn't consulted.
I imagine Mr. Schwarzenegger could have rewritten many of his lines.
Nevertheless, the 3-D imagery is astounding and I applaud the film's focus on unsung mysteries of the depths.
Merveilles des mers celebrates life in its most remarkable unfamiliar forms throughout, and captures invaluable scenes that will undoubtably foster future investigations of what furtively lies beneath.
Hopefully, as we clean up the seas.
Shocking images of polluted waters around the globe as presented in Merveilles des mers are posted online every day.
It's not that hard to dispose of your waste in the proper receptacle.
It only takes an extra 2 to 3 seconds to recycle and it is not complicated.
The reward is a world that isn't covered in garbage.
It's that simple.
It really truly is.
Sunday, February 10, 2019
My latest pastime is to go to déps or convenience stores not in search of what I am looking for, or what the dép is known for selling, but rather to check out the wall found in each dép devoted to items that you may need, or may have needed, one day, but never think/thought to buy there.
I search the wall for items that have clearly been sitting there for years, perhaps decades, items that for some reason never sold, yet were still never removed from the wall, items that perhaps no longer work, or at least don't work as well as they would have back then, and then purchase them for full price and take them home, to see if their lifespan is longer than I perhaps shortsightedly anticipated.
I imagine a list may still exist, an account, a record, of all the items the convenience store has purchased, perhaps dating back to the 1980s, and that the store owner has been waiting to remove the item I have just purchased from that record year after year after year after year, and that since someone has finally purchased the item, they can now remove it from their carefully tracked inventory, and replace it with another unassuming contemporary antiquity, which may also not sell anytime soon, or perhaps, forevermore.
It's win win.
Saturday, February 9, 2019
Dilithium
Mirage-like undulating waves,
electronically cascade,
currents alternating distant
hazy mellow shades consistent
Austin synchronously shuffles
Madison coyly kerfuffles
manifold clever disputes
observantly implore impute
the steady surefire seamless stream
unpasteurized aquamarine
reclining enigmatic trending
subterranean ascending
mechanized environmental
inarticulate credentials
riverbed technology
metallic mobile symphonies.
electronically cascade,
currents alternating distant
hazy mellow shades consistent
Austin synchronously shuffles
Madison coyly kerfuffles
manifold clever disputes
observantly implore impute
the steady surefire seamless stream
unpasteurized aquamarine
reclining enigmatic trending
subterranean ascending
mechanized environmental
inarticulate credentials
riverbed technology
metallic mobile symphonies.
Friday, February 8, 2019
BlacKkKlansman
Do you remember when you were really young and differences between peoples weren't emphasized, criticized, aggrandized, socialized, when everyone you met was just someone you were meeting and there weren't any ridiculous stereotypes ruining cultural communications?
Before small-minded misperceptions with hateful agendas attempted to dismally attach specific labels to races and ethnicities, when things were rather peaceful and calm, when there weren't any differences between peoples?
I attended an anti-racism seminar years ago and its facilitator emphasized this point along with many others that logically broke down hate fuelled ideologies.
It's still absolutely clear to me, no matter what the racists try to claim, that there are no specific differences amongst peoples themselves, just alternative cultural traditions, which both enrich one's life when curiously explored, and celebrate the constructivity of intellect across the globe.
You can educate yourselves about them online or at your local library or by attending various cultural events, there's an infinite number of positive community-building materials freely available for curious minds, in a variety of different formats, the constructive peaceful materials themselves functioning like a chill multicultural spirit, which enlivens and emancipates minds with carefree convivial charm.
The world can be quite cruel of course and many conflicts are so complex finding solutions for them is a herculean task as long as both sides won't lay down their weapons.
Spike Lee's BlacKkKlansman examines both sides of the African/European American racial or ethnocentric divide to shed sombre light on how divided many black and white peoples living within the same community are in the United States.
An intelligent caring African American individual (John David Washington as Ron Stallworth) joins the local police force within, and soon finds himself working covert operations.
He sees what the world could be like if racial and ethnocentric stereotypes didn't divide so many peoples, and agilely walks the razor's edge to promote less confrontational ways of living.
He's aided on the force by a brave cop named Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver), who infiltrates the Ku Klux Klan in order to find out what they're up to.
They're assisted by a multicultural team dedicated to both preventing violence and promoting sustainable living, even if some members of the force don't see it that way.
I know the police often act foolishly because people often catch them acting foolishly in videos posted online.
But don't forget that there are many cops out there who are dedicated to both preventing violence and promoting sustainable living as well, and they're there to serve and protect regardless of race or ethnicity or sexuality.
Why would police promote a violent world when it's their lives that are on the line when violence erupts?
It doesn't make sense.
Doesn't make any sense at all.
Spike Lee emphasizes this in BlacKkKlansman, an edgy film that lampoons the KKK and celebrates strong individuals dedicated to fighting racism.
Perhaps too light for subject matter this volatile, it still takes the reckless, thoughtless, unethical comedy that's erupted in the U.S in recent years and turns it on its head to formally deconstruct it.
I don't know how many people will understand that that's what he's doing, or even if that was his intention, I'm not Spike Lee, but in the final moments it's clear that BlacKkKlansman is meant to be taken seriously.
Extremists take peaceful inclinations and use fear to transform them into paranoid disillusion.
The key is to simply stop listening.
And focus on continuing to cultivate communities where their nonsense need never apply.
Period.
Before small-minded misperceptions with hateful agendas attempted to dismally attach specific labels to races and ethnicities, when things were rather peaceful and calm, when there weren't any differences between peoples?
I attended an anti-racism seminar years ago and its facilitator emphasized this point along with many others that logically broke down hate fuelled ideologies.
It's still absolutely clear to me, no matter what the racists try to claim, that there are no specific differences amongst peoples themselves, just alternative cultural traditions, which both enrich one's life when curiously explored, and celebrate the constructivity of intellect across the globe.
You can educate yourselves about them online or at your local library or by attending various cultural events, there's an infinite number of positive community-building materials freely available for curious minds, in a variety of different formats, the constructive peaceful materials themselves functioning like a chill multicultural spirit, which enlivens and emancipates minds with carefree convivial charm.
The world can be quite cruel of course and many conflicts are so complex finding solutions for them is a herculean task as long as both sides won't lay down their weapons.
Spike Lee's BlacKkKlansman examines both sides of the African/European American racial or ethnocentric divide to shed sombre light on how divided many black and white peoples living within the same community are in the United States.
An intelligent caring African American individual (John David Washington as Ron Stallworth) joins the local police force within, and soon finds himself working covert operations.
He sees what the world could be like if racial and ethnocentric stereotypes didn't divide so many peoples, and agilely walks the razor's edge to promote less confrontational ways of living.
He's aided on the force by a brave cop named Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver), who infiltrates the Ku Klux Klan in order to find out what they're up to.
They're assisted by a multicultural team dedicated to both preventing violence and promoting sustainable living, even if some members of the force don't see it that way.
I know the police often act foolishly because people often catch them acting foolishly in videos posted online.
But don't forget that there are many cops out there who are dedicated to both preventing violence and promoting sustainable living as well, and they're there to serve and protect regardless of race or ethnicity or sexuality.
Why would police promote a violent world when it's their lives that are on the line when violence erupts?
It doesn't make sense.
Doesn't make any sense at all.
Spike Lee emphasizes this in BlacKkKlansman, an edgy film that lampoons the KKK and celebrates strong individuals dedicated to fighting racism.
Perhaps too light for subject matter this volatile, it still takes the reckless, thoughtless, unethical comedy that's erupted in the U.S in recent years and turns it on its head to formally deconstruct it.
I don't know how many people will understand that that's what he's doing, or even if that was his intention, I'm not Spike Lee, but in the final moments it's clear that BlacKkKlansman is meant to be taken seriously.
Extremists take peaceful inclinations and use fear to transform them into paranoid disillusion.
The key is to simply stop listening.
And focus on continuing to cultivate communities where their nonsense need never apply.
Period.
Thursday, February 7, 2019
I've watched a lot of Star Trek: Voyager, and have seen the Terminator films several times, but it wasn't until recently that I realized Seven of Nine is uncannily similar to a Terminator, or can in fact be thought of as a Terminator herself, although not 100% of the time.
If you're searching for more Terminator and have seen the films and television series multiple times, might I suggest watching Star Trek: Voyager seasons 4 to 7 as well?, although they're definitely much better if you start from season 1.
I've wondered why I've loved her character so much over the years.
Wish I'd thought of that sooner.
Wednesday, February 6, 2019
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
Destroyer
Overwhelmingly consumed by guilt and vengeance, a forlorn detective wearily trudges on.
Notoriously dishevelled, she struggles to deal while attempting to advise her restless daughter.
Having once infiltrated a heist prone entity, she lost everything after she failed to act.
And the individual who's haunted her for 16 years has finally resurfaced, within her reckless domain, his sights set on lucrative crime, boldly flaunting arrogant tension.
She continues to break the rules she's never followed to desperately gain an edge, and accidentally finds herself mired in steep misfortune.
Spiralling swiftly down.
Wildly reckoning sincere uncertainty.
Destroyer flexes gritty wayward concrete confrontation to adjudicate chaotic perception.
From flesh wound to break to hemorrhage to paralysis, it scoops up the lugubrity in piles of distraught doom.
Aptly succeeding at presenting direst woe, it's a little too blunt for my tastes, the intervening scenes lacking the visceral nuances that hold films like To Live and Die in L.A. or French Connection together, shocking violence erupting like periodic head shots every 8 minutes or so, or body checks in a hockey game, except that after each check the play stops and doesn't resume again, and then it suddenly starts back up and there's another check shortly thereafter before it stops again, this pattern repeating until the film's solid ending.
It's obvious that the filmmakers are capable of crafting something more subtle and nuanced and steady and memorable, something less discontinuous, or something that artistically cultivates discontinuity, but perhaps budget constraints got in the way or Destroyer's an initial offering from a fledgling craftperson, still learning to brew something less pulpy and generic.
It does function as an effective warning against both corruption and revenge however, Erin Bell's (Nicole Kidman) dismal distillation a potent reminder to let things go, no matter your gender, to move forward at some point after a period of grieving, and apply yourself with resurgent vigour to whatever tasks eventually present themselves.
Books and films and paintings and television provide limitless options to promote either contemporary or retro lifestyles.
As do sports and the daily news.
Even if even The Guardian is remarkably grim these days.
That used to be the advantage it held over The New York Times for me. It wasn't so grim. And didn't focus on the United States so much.
It's nice when you meet people who are also living in the present regardless.
A present that isn't consumed with grasses greener.
Where resilient people make the most of their present means.
And occasionally sit back chillin'.
When all their work is done.
Notoriously dishevelled, she struggles to deal while attempting to advise her restless daughter.
Having once infiltrated a heist prone entity, she lost everything after she failed to act.
And the individual who's haunted her for 16 years has finally resurfaced, within her reckless domain, his sights set on lucrative crime, boldly flaunting arrogant tension.
She continues to break the rules she's never followed to desperately gain an edge, and accidentally finds herself mired in steep misfortune.
Spiralling swiftly down.
Wildly reckoning sincere uncertainty.
Destroyer flexes gritty wayward concrete confrontation to adjudicate chaotic perception.
From flesh wound to break to hemorrhage to paralysis, it scoops up the lugubrity in piles of distraught doom.
Aptly succeeding at presenting direst woe, it's a little too blunt for my tastes, the intervening scenes lacking the visceral nuances that hold films like To Live and Die in L.A. or French Connection together, shocking violence erupting like periodic head shots every 8 minutes or so, or body checks in a hockey game, except that after each check the play stops and doesn't resume again, and then it suddenly starts back up and there's another check shortly thereafter before it stops again, this pattern repeating until the film's solid ending.
It's obvious that the filmmakers are capable of crafting something more subtle and nuanced and steady and memorable, something less discontinuous, or something that artistically cultivates discontinuity, but perhaps budget constraints got in the way or Destroyer's an initial offering from a fledgling craftperson, still learning to brew something less pulpy and generic.
It does function as an effective warning against both corruption and revenge however, Erin Bell's (Nicole Kidman) dismal distillation a potent reminder to let things go, no matter your gender, to move forward at some point after a period of grieving, and apply yourself with resurgent vigour to whatever tasks eventually present themselves.
Books and films and paintings and television provide limitless options to promote either contemporary or retro lifestyles.
As do sports and the daily news.
Even if even The Guardian is remarkably grim these days.
That used to be the advantage it held over The New York Times for me. It wasn't so grim. And didn't focus on the United States so much.
It's nice when you meet people who are also living in the present regardless.
A present that isn't consumed with grasses greener.
Where resilient people make the most of their present means.
And occasionally sit back chillin'.
When all their work is done.
Monday, February 4, 2019
Sunday, February 3, 2019
Saturday, February 2, 2019
Pierced Stone, Alexander Calder
Spontaneous elastic flights
interconnected civil rights
a purolated coastal fusion
blending mythical intrusions
sideswiped spirals drawn and quartered
broiled un/disciplined exporters
optics spectacled revisions
wildly baiting imprecision
juggernauts prepare to clash
offensive meteoric mashed
convivial yet disputatious
supernatural outrageous
means no longer prone to ponder
stands refuting playbooks laundered
stoic feisty expertise,
in/admissibility.
interconnected civil rights
a purolated coastal fusion
blending mythical intrusions
sideswiped spirals drawn and quartered
broiled un/disciplined exporters
optics spectacled revisions
wildly baiting imprecision
juggernauts prepare to clash
offensive meteoric mashed
convivial yet disputatious
supernatural outrageous
means no longer prone to ponder
stands refuting playbooks laundered
stoic feisty expertise,
in/admissibility.
Friday, February 1, 2019
On the Basis of Sex
The law is so diverse and complex that it's almost like an inorganic cerebral ecosystem of sorts, wherein which manifold species symbiotically seek food, shelter, warmth.
Taken as a whole it's rather labyrinthine, like trying to clarify all the species in an unknown jungle, at first. You study taxonomic reasoning for years and then one day set foot in the jungle, pitch a tent, set up camp, begin recording the flora and fauna as well as their relationships with one another. As the sun slowly fades and night descends you observe different botanical phenomena displaying alternative characteristics until your research can definitively suggest they possess specific behavioural traits, thereby setting precedents of sorts which promote further discovery.
But you can only do so much research in a jungle and most research is somewhat specialized (philosophically undertaken according to specific criteria) and eventually you depart, coming back at another time perhaps to advance your research further.
Meanwhile other scientists investigate the same region to verify or contradict your findings while making several new ones of their own.
Rational observations upheld by the reasonable discourse of the day slowly create a world of precedents delineating a civil code unto themselves.
But the code itself is so vast and delicately nuanced and the amount of time spent studying it so slim that the overarching exhaustive narrative remains tantalizing out of touch, always encouraging further study.
If the lawyers, judges, and legal aids who make up a judicial framework are closely studied you find patterns upon which you can base predictions regarding the outcomes of specific cases and the individuals responsible for making them, judging them, commentating upon them, facilitating them.
You would think they wouldn't be determinate inasmuch as different facts and alternative circumstances make each case unique, and that the outcome of one extortion trial should be different from another, but the patterns do persist with a remarkable lack of variation, which is perhaps an unfortunate byproduct of undisclosed political motives.
But variability persists as well and honest judges and lawyers can be swayed by exceptional arguments crafted by reasonable individuals cutting their way through the maze.
As they are by Ruth Bader Ginsburg (Felicity Jones) in Mimi Leder's On the Basis of Sex.
Unlike the instinctual nature of the jungle, which is instinctive inasmuch as we can't communicate with it, logically, in spite of visceral fluencies, the imaginative nature of the law, the application of abstract thought, no matter how practical it might be, cleverly cultivates alternative paths by introducing new classifications, new precedents, disciplines, many of which have little to do with people wandering around aimlessly thousands of years ago, and scientifically reflect the evolutionary nature of communal intellect.
Like the second or third or fourth or fifth scientist who visits the previously undiscovered jungle and discovers new facts that contradict the findings of his or her predecessors, new law branches emerge which develop their own previously uncategorized traditions themselves equally rich in judicial diversity.
As alternative traditions make their claims based upon different precedents the undeniable sure thing becomes much less invariable.
But the patterns still persist and the political motivations that define them persistently seek to elucidate a manufactured master narrative, regardless of facts presented, in attempts to make the world reflect a theoretical natural conception.
The jungle itself without the ability to analyze itself is natural, and rational attempts to define its nature definitively through the application of self-aware reflection based upon observed conditionals which change according to the narratives established by their observers, different conclusions reached, competing rationalities cohabiting, reflects the nature of thought or imagination, a nature which is in/organic if you will.
On the Basis of Sex operates within an in/organic labyrinth and follows the brilliant Ruth Bader Ginsburg as she begins to shine a light through.
Ignorantly dismissed at first and later on because of her gender, even though she graduated with exceptional grades, she finally gets a chance and rationally makes the most of it.
In feisty Denver.
Precedents and patterns and preconceptions and prejudice confront her all the way, but her loving husband (Armie Hammer) and children (Cailee Spaeny, Callum Shoniker) back her up, and support her with the utmost respect (within teenaged reason).
The film's an engaging accessible account of a remarkable individual's first trek through the wilderness, and the path she cultivated along the way.
Through foresight, pluck, logic, and determination, she helped heal aspects of a system that unfortunately is neither broken nor fixed.
If you think the system's broken, if you give up and stop fighting, then a system that has never been and never will be perfect falls into a blind state of disarray.
Remember people like Ruth Bader Ginsburg and the light they've helped shine throughout their lives if you find yourself thinking everything's hopeless.
Because there are millions if not billions of people out there just like her, who care, and are making a difference.
Fighting for true democracy.
Or at least a fair shake most of the time.
Taken as a whole it's rather labyrinthine, like trying to clarify all the species in an unknown jungle, at first. You study taxonomic reasoning for years and then one day set foot in the jungle, pitch a tent, set up camp, begin recording the flora and fauna as well as their relationships with one another. As the sun slowly fades and night descends you observe different botanical phenomena displaying alternative characteristics until your research can definitively suggest they possess specific behavioural traits, thereby setting precedents of sorts which promote further discovery.
But you can only do so much research in a jungle and most research is somewhat specialized (philosophically undertaken according to specific criteria) and eventually you depart, coming back at another time perhaps to advance your research further.
Meanwhile other scientists investigate the same region to verify or contradict your findings while making several new ones of their own.
Rational observations upheld by the reasonable discourse of the day slowly create a world of precedents delineating a civil code unto themselves.
But the code itself is so vast and delicately nuanced and the amount of time spent studying it so slim that the overarching exhaustive narrative remains tantalizing out of touch, always encouraging further study.
If the lawyers, judges, and legal aids who make up a judicial framework are closely studied you find patterns upon which you can base predictions regarding the outcomes of specific cases and the individuals responsible for making them, judging them, commentating upon them, facilitating them.
You would think they wouldn't be determinate inasmuch as different facts and alternative circumstances make each case unique, and that the outcome of one extortion trial should be different from another, but the patterns do persist with a remarkable lack of variation, which is perhaps an unfortunate byproduct of undisclosed political motives.
But variability persists as well and honest judges and lawyers can be swayed by exceptional arguments crafted by reasonable individuals cutting their way through the maze.
As they are by Ruth Bader Ginsburg (Felicity Jones) in Mimi Leder's On the Basis of Sex.
Unlike the instinctual nature of the jungle, which is instinctive inasmuch as we can't communicate with it, logically, in spite of visceral fluencies, the imaginative nature of the law, the application of abstract thought, no matter how practical it might be, cleverly cultivates alternative paths by introducing new classifications, new precedents, disciplines, many of which have little to do with people wandering around aimlessly thousands of years ago, and scientifically reflect the evolutionary nature of communal intellect.
Like the second or third or fourth or fifth scientist who visits the previously undiscovered jungle and discovers new facts that contradict the findings of his or her predecessors, new law branches emerge which develop their own previously uncategorized traditions themselves equally rich in judicial diversity.
As alternative traditions make their claims based upon different precedents the undeniable sure thing becomes much less invariable.
But the patterns still persist and the political motivations that define them persistently seek to elucidate a manufactured master narrative, regardless of facts presented, in attempts to make the world reflect a theoretical natural conception.
The jungle itself without the ability to analyze itself is natural, and rational attempts to define its nature definitively through the application of self-aware reflection based upon observed conditionals which change according to the narratives established by their observers, different conclusions reached, competing rationalities cohabiting, reflects the nature of thought or imagination, a nature which is in/organic if you will.
On the Basis of Sex operates within an in/organic labyrinth and follows the brilliant Ruth Bader Ginsburg as she begins to shine a light through.
Ignorantly dismissed at first and later on because of her gender, even though she graduated with exceptional grades, she finally gets a chance and rationally makes the most of it.
In feisty Denver.
Precedents and patterns and preconceptions and prejudice confront her all the way, but her loving husband (Armie Hammer) and children (Cailee Spaeny, Callum Shoniker) back her up, and support her with the utmost respect (within teenaged reason).
The film's an engaging accessible account of a remarkable individual's first trek through the wilderness, and the path she cultivated along the way.
Through foresight, pluck, logic, and determination, she helped heal aspects of a system that unfortunately is neither broken nor fixed.
If you think the system's broken, if you give up and stop fighting, then a system that has never been and never will be perfect falls into a blind state of disarray.
Remember people like Ruth Bader Ginsburg and the light they've helped shine throughout their lives if you find yourself thinking everything's hopeless.
Because there are millions if not billions of people out there just like her, who care, and are making a difference.
Fighting for true democracy.
Or at least a fair shake most of the time.
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