Saturday, October 6, 2012
While I'm Thinking & Saturday
I've been thinking about this whole debate thing--how we've turned it into magic, which is what we tend to do with stuff, us humans. If I get something written that I like enough, I'll post it. Meanwhile, and apropos the fact/performance chasm that mostly people tend to think on the wrong side of, here's something worth reading:
As for performance, if we're going to make decisions on that, then the President should get a rematch--a serious game of H.O.R.S.E. All that happened was, Romney won at J.A.C.K.A.S.S.
Today, well this afternoon, Libby and I are planning on jumping on stage at Shakori and doing a few numbers with the Unknown Tongues Cajun/Zydeco Circus. We're invited. Amazingly it's not raining. Thank gawd it's not raining. I was able to mow Thursday after work--an early sign of the drying October weather we usually get. There were a few early red leaves, sumac maybe, along the edges of the always encroaching jungle that surrounds the "orchard" that was never planted. The Hudahenians are being delightful. As the weather cools they like to snuggle up. To get us up in the morning, they chirp while jumping around on the bed. Their happiness is a delight. This is typically one of their best features, and why their ancestors made their pact with us long, long ago. Momma is regularly around morning and evening. She eats, then either sits on the race car and surveys the scene from a height, or simply heads out to the rest of her domain. Now and then, maybe twice a week, the big yellow Dad also slinks by. We give him some dry food so he won't steal Momma's. They seem to be pals of some kind. We still may try to capture him and get him neutered too. No doubt the woods doesn't need more cats.
The deer drift in close. The light dapples the tree trunks at 8 AM now. I wish we didn't go back to standard time at all--I don't like that moment when there's no more time after work for anything outside. I miss my outside life, but not the concrete dust. Thus doth October begin in earnest.
If you want to watch a strikingly good movie, check out Another Earth. It is nice to see poetry and myth realized, and the hope that somehow mistakes can be rectified embodied in a literal new planet. It isn't done much. Unsurprisingly, the movie is an independent, small-budget affair. I watched Drive as a companion. Two different studies in isolation I guess one might say. Drive rectifies something too, but in the nihilistic mode. I thought Another Earth was much more joyous, and contained much concerning human emotion--both real grief and real hope. Hope is not something to deny utterly, even if it might be denied ultimately. Drive, on the other hand, clenches its teeth as firmly as Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven, or John Wayne in the Searchers. Still, and in the end, as my late friend Bob Barrett used to quote his elderly aunt whom he cared for in her declining years, "Old age is not for the faint of heart." I'd like to teach a course some day with two texts: The Tractatus and After the Ice Age. This would be an update on a classical education involving Plato and Aristotle, but more in tune with our brief moment.
If it's not a game of H.O.R.S.E. we're talking about: