Remember, Let Go, Move On.

Finished it! If only there were some auctioned-off pieces of the Black Rock available, I could hammer together a killer frame!
That bottom right circle got FUBAR-ed one night when I picked it up after having a few drinks (!) and I didn't notice it until the next day, but all in all, it turned out pretty sweet!

My Article!

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(I am Terry Griffith). And I do want that shirt, actually.

Requiem for a Dream.

Requiem for a Dream, 2000, directed by Darren Aronofsky.
Written by Hubert Selby, Jr. (novel and screenplay).
starring: Jared Leto, Jennifer Connelly, Ellen Burstyn, Marlon Wayons.

"The drug-induced utopias of four Coney Island individuals are shattered when their addictions become stronger." (IMDB).

This film is hands down, the (best-done) most disturbing film in creation. Best done in that the writing, acting, and music are absolutely smashing, and most disturbing because, well, it's downright awful. Really, really awful, and I hesitate to even write honestly about this film because I know a lot of my followers actually use this blog to get ideas for what to watch----so maybe just skip this one, okay? The things that happen in this film are *impossible* to get out of your head, and they are really, really dark.  My own husband refused to watch the ending, just got up and bolted from the room, and this is a guy that thinks the film Happiness should be allowed . . .

First things first: Ellen Burstyn lost the Oscar for this film to Julia Roberts (in Erin Brockovich). The woman was utterly amazing in this film as Sara Goldfarb, UNBELIEVABLE, while Julia Roberts was at best acceptable. Burstyn pulled off a credible (Brighton Beach?) accent, probably worked her ass off during numerous time-lapse scenes, and played frantic/strung-out/crazy better than anyone I've seen. And she was the influence for the name of this blog, so you know, society owes her quite a lot (!).

Secondly: the music here makes the film. Clint Mansell composed the original music for the film, most famously the piece "Lux Aeterna" (eternal light), which has been used in probably millions of other media since. I was looking for a youtube link to a piano performance to put on here but the only videos available were really pedal-heavy (and wrist-y), among screaming kids running around in the background, or on a simulated keyboard, not an actual one, and none of them were keeping with the extremely high quality I like to exemplify on this blog. Bummer, I know.

And third? Most reviews focused on the drugs, which yes, get a lot of screen time, but this experience (for me) was more about loneliness and disappointment than addiction. Clearly, they all get addicted, but the scenes in the film that carried the most weight seemed to be the scenes where each character was relating to another one (Marilyn and Harry/Harry and Sara/Tyrone and his mother, etc.) You might blow them all off as junkies, but Darren Aronofsky has taken a lot of time and effort to point out that they are human beings, and not even the worst ones you'll ever meet. There is no optimism in what happens to any of them, and the score to this film is gut-wrenchingly sad for a reason. There is. No. Hope.

The Memory Keeper's Daughter

The Memory Keeper's Daughter, by Kim Edwards, 2005.

This is a story of a doctor who, on the night of his twins' birth, sends away his new infant daughter when he realizes she has Down Syndrome, and the lifelong affect his decision has on not only himself, but his wife (who believes her daughter died at birth), his other child, and the delivery nurse who flees with the baby and raises her as her own daughter.

It was hard to know how to feel about this. My gut reaction is to get Beatrix Kiddo on Doctor Henry; YOU NEVER. TAKE. A WOMAN'S. CHILD. NEVER. And much of me can't get over that obstacle. I understood a lot of the grief in this novel, it was very well written and believable, but honestly, the only people I liked were Caroline (the nurse), Al, the truck driver she marries, and Phoebe, the daughter. Everyone else really sucked, and I'm sure that was the intended effect, but writing characters with no real redeeming qualities (other than their pain and sadness) doesn't do much in the way of making me care what happens to them. It was intelligent, and emotionally well written, but I was kind of relieved when it ended, to be honest. The very best parts dealt with Caroline's concern and love for Phoebe:

"Caroline felt a rush of despair. They'd never really see Phoebe, these men, they would never see her as more than different, slow to speak, and to master new things. How could she show them her beautiful daughter Phoebe, sitting on the rug in the living room and making a tower of blocks, her soft hair falling around her ears and an expression of absolute concentration on her face? Phoebe, putting a 45 on the little record player Caroline had bought her, enthralled by the music, dancing across the smooth oak floors. Or Phoebe's soft small hand suddenly on her knee, at a moment when Caroline was pensive or distracted, absorbed by the world and its concerns. You okay, Mom? she would say, or simply, I love you."

One final thought: I am really not a fan of any sort of third person-specific omniscient narration. I find it kind of lazy and annoying, and really sort of a cheat at storytelling, especially when the POV flip-flops from page to page as it did in this book a few times. Had it been contained wholly each character's chapter, I think it would have worked better. I know it's common, and these inside his head/inside her head kind of parallel stories are probably the norm these days, but it's sloppy. Maybe it's a control freak thing.

Also: check out FuckYeahLost today; my art is up! It's quite an honor to be on such a cool site; Gratitude to Crit and Louise!

The Original Television Lady

I know I've written about this before, but in my opinion (which is the only one that matters as this is my blog) it's a story worth repeating.

Television Lady isn't just an alias that has to do with me being an obsessive freak about television. There was an actual television lady, a real woman that we met in Kona. I'll tell you about her now.

We'd been watching REQUIEM FOR A DREAM with my brother and Leah for maybe a few nights in a row. Nice, I know. It's not a comedy, but this film is not something that you can really get out of your head, it's THAT disturbing. Anyway, the parts that we got the most out of were Sarah Goldfarb's lines about the red dress and being on television. We'd say it to each other in the grossest old lady voice we could muster, "I'M SARAH GOLDFARB! I'M GONNA BE ON TELEVISION!" I guess we did this kind of a lot while we were down there. This was in January of 2004; I was six months pregnant with Bubby and recovering from an awful experience that required an ER visit at 1 in the morning the first night we were there. (I won't go any further with it; there's nothin' good about it.)

So we pull up into the farmer's market one afternoon in search of avocados for guacamole. We had a silver mustang convertible; Matt probably had Jay Z or Dre blasting when we did this. Matt and Leah were in the front seat, I was in the back. So as we pulled into the driveway of the parking lot, some old chick was strolling along with her headphones on, listening to what, I have no idea, maybe John Tesch or Mac Hammond on "The Winner's Way," but whatever it was, she was quite absorbed in it, so much so that she didn't see us pulling into the driveway. She damned near walked right into us, but Matt was partially at fault for not yielding to her, I suppose. She suddenly saw us, jumped, and I think even squawked a little. We drove into the parking lot and whipped around to park. As we were getting ready to get out, I saw the old lady, STOMPING into the farmer's market, obviously upset, and obviously looking for us, the ones that almost ran her over. I knew she was going to freak out about it, I KNEW IT! I informed Matt that she was obviously not going to let it lie, she was pissed off, and that we needed to leave and come back later.

Matt, completely oblivious, I mean, I don't even know that he even realized that anything out of the ordinary had happened (codger nearly gets run down by a car, what?), refuses to listen to me. I was very strenuously advising him to drive away. Soon the old bat had spotted us, and made a bee-line for our car. Leah wasn't saying much during this whole thing, I think she had learned by then to just sit back and snicker at our ridiculousness. Then it was too late to do anything. Matt just got out of the car, acted as if nothing had happened, and basically walked right by her. I was in the back seat of the car, cringing and waiting for what would follow.

"YOU ALMOST HIT ME!" she shouted, loudly.
"Oh? Sorry about that!" Matt said, and hardly even broke his stride.

After that I covered my ears and hid behind the seat. I hate confrontation, I hate it. And Matt goddamned well knew it, too! I was so uncomfortable, I about tensed myself into labor. Leah of course was laughing. HARD. When I uncovered my ears I heard Matt say something like, "Ma'am, I told you I was sorry, now I'm done talking to you about it!" He came back with a bag full of avocados and of course, acted as if nothing had happened. And as if the whole verbal exchange wasn't enough, there was the issue of us having two (unclaimed) extra people in our condo. Somehow I just knew that this old broad was staying at the Casa, it was almost like a given, and after something like this, it would only be fitting that she should see us hanging around and then bust us and get us kicked out, or something equally horrid. Matt and Leah completely dismissed all of my paranoia and pretty much giggled about it the entire way home. When I was finally able to unclench my hands from the seat in front of me, I asked Leah if she had heard the whole conversation, which she had.

"Was she American? I mean, she kind of sounded like she had an accent or something, maybe Italian? Did you hear it?"

"Oh, I feel it was just full on TELEVISION," Leah said.
"What, like Sarah Goldfarb?"
"Totally."

"I'M GONNA BE ON TELEVISON! AND YOU ALMOST HIT ME!!" Matt chimed in.

So for the rest of the vacation, which was a good four days or so, I had to always be on the lookout for Television Lady. Funny thing, she WAS staying there, and she obviously DID hold a grudge, for one evening when some local riff-raff came up and were hanging out by the lava rocks, she and her husband were patrolling the grounds with a cordless phone at the ready, I suppose to report them. When her husband saw us he said something like, "YOU KNOW THIS IS A PRIVATE ESTABLISHMENT," to Leah, who said (in her best "you wanna fuck with me?" voice) "YEAH, I KNOW. WE'RE STAYING HERE," without breaking her stride.

I find this all extremely funny now, but at the time I was actually scared of what she would do to us. So when it came time to name my blog, I thought it only fitting that I should take on a piece of her identity, together with the original original, that is.