I have to agree with you. This didn't make me lol at all. Especially all those abdomen-high camera swipes as kids walked by. I bet most of those pregnant girls are already wishing they could disappear, and then the news team has to come by? It felt...I dunno, kind of weird, like an invasion of privacy.
Sometimes I try to imagine that someone has just stink-palmed every doorway that they will ever enter for the rest of their lives.
But then I remember that there's no need to imagine revenge fantasies on these kind of garbage people. They are already living in their own kind of hell, else why would they have to rely on fear- and paranoia-inspiring techniques to gain power?
Bottom line: is Sarah Palin waking up tomorrow and feeling the joy of helping others to realize their potential or to feel loved or that she had helped bring into the world a little more tolerance and wisdom? I think we all know that the answer is no. It's actually kind of sad to watch someone wear out their life so frenzied for power and imaginary honors that will one day be wiped out like footprints on a beach.
As a wiser person than me once said: "The wealthiest person is a pauper at times
Compared to the man with a satisfied mind "
I would like to agree with your point about the dialog, but "I see you brought your lyrics with you" is not even a QUESTION. So the appropriate answer would have been, "what is this, 20 statements or instructions?"
And Crazy Heart is, itself, a distant cousin of the far greater Tender Mercies, so we are in fact seeing the third iteration here. You know how a copy of a copy is never as good as the original?
Okay, I know I don't post here regularly because my boss is crazy (but I read a lot), and I have really little insight into what is going on, I'm just a super nerd and thought I'd like to reply to a poem with another poem, a la .gif parties. So here we go, an only mildly-relevant poem that this makes me think of:
Men At Forty
Men at forty
Learn to close softly
The doors to rooms they will not be
Coming back to.
At rest on a stair landing,
They feel it
Moving beneath them now like the deck of a ship,
Though the swell is gentle.
And deep in mirrors
They rediscover
The face of the boy as he practices tying
His father's tie there in secret
And the face of that father,
Still warm with the mystery of lather.
They are more fathers than sons themselves now.
Something is filling them, something
That is like the twilight sound
Of the crickets, immense,
Filling the woods at the foot of the slope
Behind their mortgaged houses.
Ages! They never stop having meaning!
Agh! This is my favorite Billy Collins poem (perhaps one of the only ones worth its snuff? Discuss!). I LOVE LOVE LOVE that this was posted here, and I wish had something better to say than that!
Agreed. Lights and Christmas songs are the BEST, but watching people whipped into a commercialism-induced frenzy, UGH. This year, I'm getting you all HANDMADE presents!
Agreed. And I know it's not a popular opinion, but I really think that if you could get over some of the cheaper grabs, this show had the most brilliant plot devices and structure and the most savage social commentary I've seen in a while.
I have been thinking of this thread since I read it, last night, and trying to envision what I could say. Naked Painter, here is something for you. It's a poem my mother clipped out of the Washington Post Book World and sent me, when I had first moved away from home and felt like I was (seriously) going crazy:
Try
By Jennifer Grotz
"Try to praise the mutilated world." -- Adam Zagajewski
To love the world is what you try to do,
describe the trash, the bombs, the fisted greed --
when it does not love back, does not love you.
There are still breezes, kisses, and a few
more pleasures between gratitude and need.
To love the world is what you try to do
after seeing the slow old man pursue
in the parking lot a cart that gathers speed.
When it does not love back, does not love you,
the world seems like a hammer and a screw.
Aside from watch and act, can one succeed
to love the world? What they say's untrue,
that what you do won't matter. View
the world as a book that needs to be reread
when it does not love back, does not love you.
Or, watch it like a candle troubled into blue
under a fan, a candle filigreed
to love the world. It's what you try to do
when it does not love back, does not love you.
I know what you mean, especially because I saw these guys again yesterday, dressed like this:
http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bEBzZgZ5Tmc/SB00z3URtAI/AAAAAAAADsU/AK6vRbV1x4I/s400/duck+fashion+show.jpg
After I wrote this, I went back an read the list of the 'best little pleasures' at the end of this article from the Telegraph. Always makes me feel good inside:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/6913986/Good-nights-sleep-voted-lifes-greatest-little-pleasure.html
I also missed the majority of this week due to lots of work and knitting club responsibilities (yes, I am 970 years old, suck on it, Methuselah), but I am also overwhelmed by the amount that went on.
Naked Painter, if you're reading this: it probably sounds like the most obvious kind of advice, but 3 years of therapy with a very kind therapist has really helped take me from panic attacks to having a much more grounded and positive view of myself, so I recommend it. Without it, I might never have quit my terrible job! Also, sometimes it's nice having some one who can be there for you, in the capacity that you need them to be, every time you see them. Psychology Today online is how I found mine.
Anyways, I hope that things start to look up.
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