Finally finished Within a Budding Grove again.
That took way too long.
Monday, July 25, 2016
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Saturday, July 23, 2016
Delirium
Auburn spectacled colada
budgets deadlines mists regattas
aerodyne 'xub'rant solutions
textiles manacled dilutions
leveraged to seed X-factors
ransomed resonant contacts her
waves of pyrotechnic pastures
shimmering subconscious laughter,
alarm then tea then bus then métro
'complishments secured corretto
flashes picturesque in flight,
fun bustling Summer days and nights
ignite.
budgets deadlines mists regattas
aerodyne 'xub'rant solutions
textiles manacled dilutions
leveraged to seed X-factors
ransomed resonant contacts her
waves of pyrotechnic pastures
shimmering subconscious laughter,
alarm then tea then bus then métro
'complishments secured corretto
flashes picturesque in flight,
fun bustling Summer days and nights
ignite.
Friday, July 22, 2016
The BFG
The crafters of dreams, inaugurators of imagination, humbly humanizing heaven and earth with tragic humour and comedic complaint, magically transforming the mundane and the mechanical into mirthful exhilarations of sprightly cerebral rustic metropolitan whimsy, intergalactic anchovies, pepperoni principalities, the promotion of laughter, cheek, good luck and fortune, legendarily discrediting desperation and doubt, the blending of sundry scintillating elements, diversifying banalities, with intergenerational honeysuckle, and iridescent eclectic salience.
Giants!
There be giants in Steven Spielberg's The BFG and one has taken a shine to slumbering humanity (Mark Rylance as BFG).
He literally gathers dreams and then chooses to altruistically share them.
Smaller than the other giants however, his knowledge an insult to their blunt aggressive disdain, when he encounters others of his kind punishments must be endured, and humiliations ritualistically accommodated.
A young orphan girl (Ruby Barnhill as Sophie) spots him one night as he travels through London and is kidnapped shortly thereafter so that he can avoid detection (an odd way of going about things).
In order to save her from his invasive famished brethren (there aren't any female giants) back in giant land, he must employ stealth and dissimilitude, while she teaches him to be more confident, and to be proud of his clever achievements.
Innocent in its elevations and timid in its temerity, The Big Friendly Giant shyly sticks it to bullying while invigorating artistic expression.
Aside from some peculiar structural elements, it enlightens while it entertains and elucidates while it underscores.
Hey, I read Nicholas Nickleby way back when in school.
Loved that book.
I took flack for reading the whole thing.
And almost produced tears while reading aloud the chapter where _______ dies.
Recommend The BFG for children and adults alike.
Bullying really is the worst.
Peer pressure.
I thought these encumbrances would disappear during adulthood but they remain, oddly enough.
Not in my current job or social life, but I read about them regularly enough to remain intermittently flabbergasted.
Sigh, I could never pretend to love soccer or roller derby.
Or not complain when asked to do something unsafe.
A strange state of affairs this 21st Century.
Not so bad with JT at the helm though.
He doesn't seem like he possesses any bullying instincts whatsoever.
I keep agreeing with the things he says.
It's unprecedented. Uncharted. Uncanny.
Agreeing.
Peppermint.
Giants!
There be giants in Steven Spielberg's The BFG and one has taken a shine to slumbering humanity (Mark Rylance as BFG).
He literally gathers dreams and then chooses to altruistically share them.
Smaller than the other giants however, his knowledge an insult to their blunt aggressive disdain, when he encounters others of his kind punishments must be endured, and humiliations ritualistically accommodated.
A young orphan girl (Ruby Barnhill as Sophie) spots him one night as he travels through London and is kidnapped shortly thereafter so that he can avoid detection (an odd way of going about things).
In order to save her from his invasive famished brethren (there aren't any female giants) back in giant land, he must employ stealth and dissimilitude, while she teaches him to be more confident, and to be proud of his clever achievements.
Innocent in its elevations and timid in its temerity, The Big Friendly Giant shyly sticks it to bullying while invigorating artistic expression.
Aside from some peculiar structural elements, it enlightens while it entertains and elucidates while it underscores.
Hey, I read Nicholas Nickleby way back when in school.
Loved that book.
I took flack for reading the whole thing.
And almost produced tears while reading aloud the chapter where _______ dies.
Recommend The BFG for children and adults alike.
Bullying really is the worst.
Peer pressure.
I thought these encumbrances would disappear during adulthood but they remain, oddly enough.
Not in my current job or social life, but I read about them regularly enough to remain intermittently flabbergasted.
Sigh, I could never pretend to love soccer or roller derby.
Or not complain when asked to do something unsafe.
A strange state of affairs this 21st Century.
Not so bad with JT at the helm though.
He doesn't seem like he possesses any bullying instincts whatsoever.
I keep agreeing with the things he says.
It's unprecedented. Uncharted. Uncanny.
Agreeing.
Peppermint.
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Free State of Jones
Raw recruits hopelessly unprepared for military service, the people starving to support a lost cause, reprisals and punishments suffocating the countryside, whispers of emancipation enflaming formerly despondent fuels, a small racially mixed group of men and women set out to constructively challenge confederate rule, imagining a state where everyone profits from the fruits of their labours, during the American Civil War, in Gary Ross's Free State of Jones.
Odd to see a film that investigates militaristic insurrection as opposed to strict cohesive unified martial ubiquity, concerned citizens attempting to establish concrete constitutional reforms, exercising intellectual abstractions, with communal dignity, and auspicious flumes.
Eventually declaring their own fundamental principles.
Their group itself still fraught with internal discord.
The film has a progressive message inasmuch as it promotes racially diverse communities working together to flourish and succeed.
It was obviously shot in haste though.
Matthew McConaughey (Newton Knight) eclipses the other participants and delivers a great performance (bit overwrought at times), excelling in the lead as pivotal protagonist with the most critical speeches, but since no one else really stands out, Free State of Jones's formal aspects are at odds with its content's focus on diversity.
There can be more than one.
Not enough takes blended with sloppy editing that covers a lot of time and space without generating any visceral momentum.
There is a valuable subplot however that takes place in a not too distant future where one of Knight's descendants is on trial for marrying a caucasian woman even though he may have African blood, mixed race marriages being ridiculously illegal at the time.
By jumping back and forth between past and present, Free State of Jones coaxes its audience into critically examining contemporary racial injustices, which unfortunately continue to abound with incendiary abusive flagrancy.
A clever move, manifesting the present while remaining situated in the past, backgammon.
It's sad to think that the American Civil War ended 151 years ago and the same bigoted preconceptions still disharmoniously complicate the daily lives of so many people.
Do you remember when you were really young and there weren't black, white, Asian, Arab, Native . . . . . peoples, there were just people, living in communities together?
Those were great times.
Chill you know.
Peaceful.
Odd to see a film that investigates militaristic insurrection as opposed to strict cohesive unified martial ubiquity, concerned citizens attempting to establish concrete constitutional reforms, exercising intellectual abstractions, with communal dignity, and auspicious flumes.
Eventually declaring their own fundamental principles.
Their group itself still fraught with internal discord.
The film has a progressive message inasmuch as it promotes racially diverse communities working together to flourish and succeed.
It was obviously shot in haste though.
Matthew McConaughey (Newton Knight) eclipses the other participants and delivers a great performance (bit overwrought at times), excelling in the lead as pivotal protagonist with the most critical speeches, but since no one else really stands out, Free State of Jones's formal aspects are at odds with its content's focus on diversity.
There can be more than one.
Not enough takes blended with sloppy editing that covers a lot of time and space without generating any visceral momentum.
There is a valuable subplot however that takes place in a not too distant future where one of Knight's descendants is on trial for marrying a caucasian woman even though he may have African blood, mixed race marriages being ridiculously illegal at the time.
By jumping back and forth between past and present, Free State of Jones coaxes its audience into critically examining contemporary racial injustices, which unfortunately continue to abound with incendiary abusive flagrancy.
A clever move, manifesting the present while remaining situated in the past, backgammon.
It's sad to think that the American Civil War ended 151 years ago and the same bigoted preconceptions still disharmoniously complicate the daily lives of so many people.
Do you remember when you were really young and there weren't black, white, Asian, Arab, Native . . . . . peoples, there were just people, living in communities together?
Those were great times.
Chill you know.
Peaceful.
Monday, July 18, 2016
Saturday, July 16, 2016
Zephyr
Bazooka joe the big league chew
the freeze red orange green and blue
a steady hike lakeside abandon
feisty fetching zipped the random
skipping stones across the water
slalom staggered swervin' spotter
micro macro sprays detection
vectors swirling intersections
swamp cake surges basked in drumming
echoing ribbits a' humming
ancient notes environmental
communed chorus temperamental
swelter.
the freeze red orange green and blue
a steady hike lakeside abandon
feisty fetching zipped the random
skipping stones across the water
slalom staggered swervin' spotter
micro macro sprays detection
vectors swirling intersections
swamp cake surges basked in drumming
echoing ribbits a' humming
ancient notes environmental
communed chorus temperamental
swelter.
Friday, July 15, 2016
Swiss Army Man
Languishing in loneliness lugubrious in doubt, hangin' high the penetrating suicidal shouts, when suddenly upon the beach betwixt the waves and sand, a body flatulent in thrust emerges ampersand.
Friendship fervid moribund enriching live decay, frolicking within the flora ursine twitchy craze, batteries a slowly pining loves lost intercepted, consummate stardust inverted glacial verdant 'spectives.
Lessons lounging lynchpins gouging finch the new companion, eagerly consumes the trust with gaseous abandon, launch relight ignite insights the leveraged absentia, automatic crisp erratic exercised 'fluenza.
Visitors a challenging courteous ebbs and flows, calisthenic plights endemic rockets robins hoe, curious the interactions surely socialized, tricks refastened sparred Sebastian glimpsed etherealized.
Caught up in surfin' chagrin like dismal diuretics, forward movement grooved attunements exiled resurrected, burly bitchin' swift restitchin' crucial conversation, wild restyled agile nubile explicit intonations.
Back within the suburbs thinly overwrought disguise, aware the stare lays bare the madness cruising lunar tides, imbued exotic dues hypnotic cloistered campy crystal, jostlin' prim the seraphim bewildered glistenin' gristle.
Loved Swiss Army Man.
What an idea.
Great performance from Radcliffe (Manny).
I've been waiting to see something different from him for awhile.
I don't see everything he does.
Friendship fervid moribund enriching live decay, frolicking within the flora ursine twitchy craze, batteries a slowly pining loves lost intercepted, consummate stardust inverted glacial verdant 'spectives.
Lessons lounging lynchpins gouging finch the new companion, eagerly consumes the trust with gaseous abandon, launch relight ignite insights the leveraged absentia, automatic crisp erratic exercised 'fluenza.
Visitors a challenging courteous ebbs and flows, calisthenic plights endemic rockets robins hoe, curious the interactions surely socialized, tricks refastened sparred Sebastian glimpsed etherealized.
Caught up in surfin' chagrin like dismal diuretics, forward movement grooved attunements exiled resurrected, burly bitchin' swift restitchin' crucial conversation, wild restyled agile nubile explicit intonations.
Back within the suburbs thinly overwrought disguise, aware the stare lays bare the madness cruising lunar tides, imbued exotic dues hypnotic cloistered campy crystal, jostlin' prim the seraphim bewildered glistenin' gristle.
Loved Swiss Army Man.
What an idea.
Great performance from Radcliffe (Manny).
I've been waiting to see something different from him for awhile.
I don't see everything he does.
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
The Neon Demon
Authentic unawareness, a genuine ingenue, immediacy pressurizing the social with vindictive amorous jealousies she neither comprehends nor contemplates, august angelic agency, harpies heaven sent, an agonizing struggle having hawkishly conditioned their credence, as innocence mingles with disillusion, naivety nascently nocturnalized.
A young model whose natural beauty crushes her competitors suddenly reaches the heights they seek, forever and ever, without even having coquettishly furrowed, finding herself virulently enveloped in invariable viscosity shortly thereafter.
Unapologetically resigned.
To psychotic desire.
The Neon Demon starkly examines discourses of purity with venomous brevity and blunt exactitude.
Mortality.
Ostentation.
The hypnotic hallucinations impress as does the soundtrack and the scenes at the hotel (music by Cliff Martinez).
Director Nicolas Winding Refn pays homage to Stanley Kubrick and David Lynch and at times seems as if he may possess a similar sense of maniacal eccentricity.
The Neon Demon's hit and miss though, some scenes pulling you into a dark carnal frothing extremity which skilfully blends the opulent and the oblivious, others just sort of hangin' out and dipsy-doodling like those you often find in generic horror.
Perhaps this approach is meant to reflect young Jesse's (Elle Fanning) shock, the uplifting yet haunting psychosocial affects of elegant effortless ascendence.
A larger budget may answer this question, one which gives Refn more time to cohesively structure a sustained chaotic incrimination, a more visceral sense of bleak wanton menace, like that which you often find in both Kubrick and Lynch's darker texts.
Wave upon wave.
Liked Jena Malone's (Ruby) performance.
Jubilance.
A young model whose natural beauty crushes her competitors suddenly reaches the heights they seek, forever and ever, without even having coquettishly furrowed, finding herself virulently enveloped in invariable viscosity shortly thereafter.
Unapologetically resigned.
To psychotic desire.
The Neon Demon starkly examines discourses of purity with venomous brevity and blunt exactitude.
Mortality.
Ostentation.
The hypnotic hallucinations impress as does the soundtrack and the scenes at the hotel (music by Cliff Martinez).
Director Nicolas Winding Refn pays homage to Stanley Kubrick and David Lynch and at times seems as if he may possess a similar sense of maniacal eccentricity.
The Neon Demon's hit and miss though, some scenes pulling you into a dark carnal frothing extremity which skilfully blends the opulent and the oblivious, others just sort of hangin' out and dipsy-doodling like those you often find in generic horror.
Perhaps this approach is meant to reflect young Jesse's (Elle Fanning) shock, the uplifting yet haunting psychosocial affects of elegant effortless ascendence.
A larger budget may answer this question, one which gives Refn more time to cohesively structure a sustained chaotic incrimination, a more visceral sense of bleak wanton menace, like that which you often find in both Kubrick and Lynch's darker texts.
Wave upon wave.
Liked Jena Malone's (Ruby) performance.
Jubilance.
Monday, July 11, 2016
Saturday, July 9, 2016
Breezy
The guns, the fights, misguided hatred
eyes for eyes rapacious agents.
Communities of all are free
to live together peacefully.
Felicity.
eyes for eyes rapacious agents.
Communities of all are free
to live together peacefully.
Felicity.
Friday, July 8, 2016
Now You See Me 2
There's a lot of potential for this film/subgenre.
Magic's wicked awesome, and taking a bunch of slick magicians and hypnotists and troublemakers and having them Robin Hood their way into the international slipstream, ultimate performance magnetizing the ephemeral everlasting, works well as an idea, an hypothesis, a vision, like Harry Potter sailing Ocean's Eleven, tricks, concentric metrics, the benevolent bedazzle, the wisecracking wherewithal, elevated conceptual catharsis, it would be fun if this style of film caught on, like kung fu or biker movies, seriously, don't you think?
Nevertheless, although Now You See Me 2 sets out to viscerally mesmerize and existentially impress, it doesn't really move past its age 8-14 target audience.
I wanted to love this film, I tried to love this film, a compelling premise brought to life by many of my favourite actors, enjoying themselves and revelling in their dissimulations, so loving, so caring, but the action isn't multidimensional enough (too slow), and, unfortunately, the accompanying social interactions are far too stitched and corny.
If I was still 12, I would have loved it however.
I kept thinking, that was almost really cool, that nearly transcended what's taken place so far, that could have been mind blowing, I was close to applauding that, only to be unable to sublimate a reverberating no no no no, no no no, no no no no no no no that was generated deep down within.
Hoping no. 3 adjusts for its target audience's change in age as did Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines.
But is there another subgenre at play in Now You See Me 2, of which Ex Machina and Criminal might also be exemplars?
I know you've got it, the contra-Snowden scripts have been given the green light, the counterconscience is prevaricating, time to forget, time to let go, don't worry about the cyberstasi, sit back and enjoy the show.
Order some cheesecake.
Collect some minted coins.
It's kind of neat how America introduces critical controversy if the aforementioned theory has any applicable validity.
It doesn't tell you to believe something and threaten you with imprisonment if you should speak out against it.
Mistake!
Rather, it slyly establishes an alternative narrative within select films and lets the subconscious subtlety generate its own in/credulity.
The power of being tapped into every cellphone and computer on the planet.
The knowledge.
You used to have to laboriously sift through mail, establish an intricate network of loyal spies (an hydra), or apply for warrants to learn someone's intimate private secrets.
Now they're all readily available in a tantalizing format that's impossible to stop using due to its inherent multifunctionality.
Omniscience.
It's like the ring of power (consider the invisibility factor), so powerful no government would ever give it up, ever stop using it, ever sacrifice their resounding advantage, ever refrain from accessing its invincibility.
Bizarre.
In terms of linguistic diversification, the development of complex undecipherable codes, it could perhaps be a golden age.
Unless, I don't know, a hobbit can arise, and, say, cast this ring into molten hot magma, thereby giving up the greatest advantage any government in history has ever had, in turn reinvigorating a civil society which respects an individual's legal privacy.
Is there, out there somewhere, an extremely hip and cool politician who would do this, someone so beloved of everyone they would remember the ways of the 1980s and decide that constant eavesdropping, even if picturesquely packaged with impressionable pizzazz, is invasive and undesirable, afterwards promoting old school law enforcement techniques to guarantee the preponderance of justice, and maintain order with discreet compact impregnable luminosity?
Is there, can there be, is it still possible to believe, that one day, in the not too distant future, we will meet, and come to love, an honest and exceptional charismatic leader who lives according to the principles his or her government upholds, and therefore doesn't choose to spy on each and every one of its citizens?
In the ether, amidst the flotsam and jetsam, perhaps already elected, perhaps already triumphing daily, is this man or woman enlivening the globe with his or her eclectic charm and undeniable whimsy déjà, and can this man or woman, this colossus, this supernova, be thought of, herein and forever after, in the annals of interstellarosity . . .
. . . as Prime Minister Frodo.
As Prime Minister, Frodo, Baggins?
It could happen you know.
It could!
*Loved the eye staircase. Cool staircases also in Criminal.
Magic's wicked awesome, and taking a bunch of slick magicians and hypnotists and troublemakers and having them Robin Hood their way into the international slipstream, ultimate performance magnetizing the ephemeral everlasting, works well as an idea, an hypothesis, a vision, like Harry Potter sailing Ocean's Eleven, tricks, concentric metrics, the benevolent bedazzle, the wisecracking wherewithal, elevated conceptual catharsis, it would be fun if this style of film caught on, like kung fu or biker movies, seriously, don't you think?
Nevertheless, although Now You See Me 2 sets out to viscerally mesmerize and existentially impress, it doesn't really move past its age 8-14 target audience.
I wanted to love this film, I tried to love this film, a compelling premise brought to life by many of my favourite actors, enjoying themselves and revelling in their dissimulations, so loving, so caring, but the action isn't multidimensional enough (too slow), and, unfortunately, the accompanying social interactions are far too stitched and corny.
If I was still 12, I would have loved it however.
I kept thinking, that was almost really cool, that nearly transcended what's taken place so far, that could have been mind blowing, I was close to applauding that, only to be unable to sublimate a reverberating no no no no, no no no, no no no no no no no that was generated deep down within.
Hoping no. 3 adjusts for its target audience's change in age as did Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines.
But is there another subgenre at play in Now You See Me 2, of which Ex Machina and Criminal might also be exemplars?
I know you've got it, the contra-Snowden scripts have been given the green light, the counterconscience is prevaricating, time to forget, time to let go, don't worry about the cyberstasi, sit back and enjoy the show.
Order some cheesecake.
Collect some minted coins.
It's kind of neat how America introduces critical controversy if the aforementioned theory has any applicable validity.
It doesn't tell you to believe something and threaten you with imprisonment if you should speak out against it.
Mistake!
Rather, it slyly establishes an alternative narrative within select films and lets the subconscious subtlety generate its own in/credulity.
The power of being tapped into every cellphone and computer on the planet.
The knowledge.
You used to have to laboriously sift through mail, establish an intricate network of loyal spies (an hydra), or apply for warrants to learn someone's intimate private secrets.
Now they're all readily available in a tantalizing format that's impossible to stop using due to its inherent multifunctionality.
Omniscience.
It's like the ring of power (consider the invisibility factor), so powerful no government would ever give it up, ever stop using it, ever sacrifice their resounding advantage, ever refrain from accessing its invincibility.
Bizarre.
In terms of linguistic diversification, the development of complex undecipherable codes, it could perhaps be a golden age.
Unless, I don't know, a hobbit can arise, and, say, cast this ring into molten hot magma, thereby giving up the greatest advantage any government in history has ever had, in turn reinvigorating a civil society which respects an individual's legal privacy.
Is there, out there somewhere, an extremely hip and cool politician who would do this, someone so beloved of everyone they would remember the ways of the 1980s and decide that constant eavesdropping, even if picturesquely packaged with impressionable pizzazz, is invasive and undesirable, afterwards promoting old school law enforcement techniques to guarantee the preponderance of justice, and maintain order with discreet compact impregnable luminosity?
Is there, can there be, is it still possible to believe, that one day, in the not too distant future, we will meet, and come to love, an honest and exceptional charismatic leader who lives according to the principles his or her government upholds, and therefore doesn't choose to spy on each and every one of its citizens?
In the ether, amidst the flotsam and jetsam, perhaps already elected, perhaps already triumphing daily, is this man or woman enlivening the globe with his or her eclectic charm and undeniable whimsy déjà, and can this man or woman, this colossus, this supernova, be thought of, herein and forever after, in the annals of interstellarosity . . .
. . . as Prime Minister Frodo.
As Prime Minister, Frodo, Baggins?
It could happen you know.
It could!
*Loved the eye staircase. Cool staircases also in Criminal.
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
The Man Who Knew Infinity
Transcendently calculating with pure artistic spirituality, rarefied inspiration, crystalline caricatures, an East Indian genius leaves loved ones behind to study mathematics abroad, challenging racial and cultural stereotypes to do so, undeniably unique and innocent, picturesque prognostic in plume.
A gift beyond reason, like Proust, Shakespeare, Dickens or Joyce, he miraculously finds a patron at Trinity College, who sets out to formalize his spry romantic methods.
Malheureusement, academic rigour has its own contentions, and G.H. Hardy (Jeremy Irons) and his jealous colleagues initially distrust/dismiss Srinivasa Ramanujan's (Dev Patel) revelations.
Obsessions with the genuine.
Could he be the one?
There is no one, but mathematical proof is required (Ramanujan writes mathematical formulas at the highest level like squirrels climb trees or cheetahs swiftly accelerate), but would Srinivasa have written more profusely had Hardy sat back to obtain those proofs himself, giving his correspondent more freedom to think, thereby preventing the sterilization of genius?
Training Ramanujan to become an academic would have transformed him from dust devil to tornado, but in terms of both knowledge and refined intuitive creativity, it may have been better to leave him be, with a stipend, to maximize his unaccounted for mystifications.
These thoughts loosely reflect conversations held between Hardy and Prof. Littlewood (Toby Jones) as The Man Who Knew Infinity examines detections of the exceptional.
I thought it was a great film, comfortably blending brilliance and banality with modest poise and tenacious dignity.
Even at that level, amongst what Bowie called the elite and first, racist attitudes still obscure understandings, enviously orchestrating a fermented xenophobic squelch, as opposed to idealizing grand authentic freedom.
Curious this 1729.
A modest proposal?
*Saw Alfred everywhere in this film.
A gift beyond reason, like Proust, Shakespeare, Dickens or Joyce, he miraculously finds a patron at Trinity College, who sets out to formalize his spry romantic methods.
Malheureusement, academic rigour has its own contentions, and G.H. Hardy (Jeremy Irons) and his jealous colleagues initially distrust/dismiss Srinivasa Ramanujan's (Dev Patel) revelations.
Obsessions with the genuine.
Could he be the one?
There is no one, but mathematical proof is required (Ramanujan writes mathematical formulas at the highest level like squirrels climb trees or cheetahs swiftly accelerate), but would Srinivasa have written more profusely had Hardy sat back to obtain those proofs himself, giving his correspondent more freedom to think, thereby preventing the sterilization of genius?
Training Ramanujan to become an academic would have transformed him from dust devil to tornado, but in terms of both knowledge and refined intuitive creativity, it may have been better to leave him be, with a stipend, to maximize his unaccounted for mystifications.
These thoughts loosely reflect conversations held between Hardy and Prof. Littlewood (Toby Jones) as The Man Who Knew Infinity examines detections of the exceptional.
I thought it was a great film, comfortably blending brilliance and banality with modest poise and tenacious dignity.
Even at that level, amongst what Bowie called the elite and first, racist attitudes still obscure understandings, enviously orchestrating a fermented xenophobic squelch, as opposed to idealizing grand authentic freedom.
Curious this 1729.
A modest proposal?
*Saw Alfred everywhere in this film.
Sunday, July 3, 2016
Saturday, July 2, 2016
Dogs in the Parc
Cruisin' casually around,
peaceful gusts domestic pounds
a brother much less big in size
sticks close to mother's caring side
the glide another strolls right in
his movements less freeform in hinge
a survey must be tightly made
inquiring minds frisky foray
relayed they exchange courtesies
respectful canine certainties
but little Flex a dashing yips
exclaims bewilderment in flip
contentions cute like bold Rosemary
cacophonous juniper berries
onwards then wherein what for?
fetching familiars underscored
adoring.
peaceful gusts domestic pounds
a brother much less big in size
sticks close to mother's caring side
the glide another strolls right in
his movements less freeform in hinge
a survey must be tightly made
inquiring minds frisky foray
relayed they exchange courtesies
respectful canine certainties
but little Flex a dashing yips
exclaims bewilderment in flip
contentions cute like bold Rosemary
cacophonous juniper berries
onwards then wherein what for?
fetching familiars underscored
adoring.
Friday, July 1, 2016
Sunset Song
A clever girl, a brutal father, a stubborn son, confines of the quotidian bleak and unforgiving, the young at heart, the adventurous, callously beat down and kept in line with fierce despotic reckoning, patriarchal severity, but Chris Guthrie (Agyness Deyn), a rapturous sight transmitting kinetic tranquility, relieves the threatening pressure, disseminating fortune with unembellished felicity, tensions be damned, as she inherits impassioned posterity.
Heuristic horizons.
Sunset Song, as bountifully bucolic as fireside chats or blueberries burgeoning, directly laying bare every insight and ramification with clearly defined wayward hesitance, too modest to overtly proclaim yet confident enough to quaintly criticize, enlivening the imagination while seductively steering, confidence in motion, as steady as she goes.
Cruel men jealousy asserting their authority are under fire within, John Guthrie (Peter Mullan) never having once listened to a feminine voice, his insensitive influence slowly transforming into World War I.
A rigid clock overwhelmed with propriety wherein youth struggle to entertain wonder.
To love in health and in spirit.
Express themselves.
Radiate.
Heuristic horizons.
Sunset Song, as bountifully bucolic as fireside chats or blueberries burgeoning, directly laying bare every insight and ramification with clearly defined wayward hesitance, too modest to overtly proclaim yet confident enough to quaintly criticize, enlivening the imagination while seductively steering, confidence in motion, as steady as she goes.
Cruel men jealousy asserting their authority are under fire within, John Guthrie (Peter Mullan) never having once listened to a feminine voice, his insensitive influence slowly transforming into World War I.
A rigid clock overwhelmed with propriety wherein youth struggle to entertain wonder.
To love in health and in spirit.
Express themselves.
Radiate.
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