It only took me five years…

…but, I finally watched ‘There Will Be Blood’, which turned out to basically be a modern day ‘Barry Lyndon’. If you haven’t seen it; do. Barry Lyndon, that is. The former turned out to be sort of a ripoff. More than sort of. That last scene, in fact, was a mixture of Lyndon and The Shining. The guy was a talented director and all, but, regurgitating the classics (almost verbatim) negated his wit.

Of course, now I’m watching a Mandy Moore movie, which might possibly negate my good taste. It might, except that she was such a little badass, weirdo, Jesusfreak in ‘Saved’. So, I can’t really hold anything she does against her (even that wicked awful candy song she did to launch her singing career).

All that aside, it’s hard to watch a supposedly serious movie-maker pretend s/he’s completely original when it’s all been done before. There were probably Greek satires who rivaled ‘Saved’, for example. And I’m serious. The stuff we do has all been done. You want to put your spin on an old classic (like ‘The Easy A’, or something), fine by me. But don’t cut and paste various Kubrick films into an abortion of true originality.

That’s all I’m saying. Just BE YOU, dammit; people!

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playing with these dusty apples…

Every time I start looking through my old poems, I cry. There was so much of me in that older stuff. The more I write, I find, the more I recycle the same ol’ stuff. One idea connects to another, until they all become a single, unified theory, full of imperfections. I often argue that the imperfections are the best of us; the pearl of life; the very measurement of perfection.

I am probably wrong. I see, in my early writing, the evidence of my naivete. I looked for a meaning, I searched for something out there, to explain me, right here. Not God, necessarily; God seemed too broad and imperfect in and of itself. The theory, I mean. So, I began to de-generalize the idea of a Creator, or Divine Being. I started to make God(s) an individual experience, by being very curious about each single person’s own expressions and thoughts on the subject. This has led to a search nearly infinite in scope and rife with imagination.

I realized that all of our meanings are different, that we can each only learn and share, in turn, with each other. It occurred to me then, and many times, since, that the search for truth can only lead to each other. That we may fill in our own blanks only by looking through the eyes of others. Each new perspective has led to a greater understanding of something (and even the little somethings count), just as each person I have met (and, even not met) has taught me about all of it.

Because I look at life backward (just ask anyone who’s ever played chess against me), I know also, that I have taught them, whatever it was I was put here to do. I guess that’s the real beauty of it. All I can do, is keep looking.