Some particularly poignant imagery from Manchester By The Sea.
Director Kenneth Lonergan, cinematography Jody Lee Lipes, starring Casey Affleck, Michelle Williams,
Anyhow it really reminded me of Steveston Fisherman’s Wharf.
I often wonder what people in the future will find barbaric about my life. We tend to look back on our ancestors with a mix of amusement and disgust: amusement that those poor fools managed to survive without things like toilets, electricity, and selfies; disgust that their lives were filled with things we find vile.
But are we any better?
Well there, a great title and quick article that describes what I’ve been feeling lately, well perhaps not just lately, but oftentimes I bemoan to my wife on the terrible state of things around us – from big things like the horrific traffic system, governments, religious systems, to little things like human habits, speech patterns, etc. I can’t remember half of what I complain/whine about.
She says it sounds like I’m complaining about everything, that I’m unhappy about everything, and always seeing the negative side of things. (I love that she’s such a nice person, who is nice to everything, unlike me.) Every single thing I touch and come across, I have some negative comment of its flaws and how it could be better, much better. It’s true, I do sound like this, which is really unfortunate because my mind just picks up on things, understand it, how it works (that happens immediately as usually it’s trivial), and I imagine how it could be better at doing what it is trying to do. Just a reflexive thought, as they say no hard feelings.
But the fact is that it’s true, alot of things could be better. The status quo is not good enough. It might be doable for now, if we don’t care about making it better, faster, cheaper, more efficient, more optimised, more elegant, more beautiful. It doesn’t negate all the effort we’ve taken to come this far. Motorised cars are a lovely achievement from horse drawn carriages (HDC). Yes recently I had this huge thought-process on horse drawn carriages. Looking back, HDC were obviously a stupid, inefficient, smelly, slow, expensive, inefficient system. I can’t even imagine all the horseshit in the streets – which the movies don’t show you. But how did we manage to get from HDC to motor cars? So many technological advances. If only, if only, we can learn how we took that step, examine it, and learn to make the next step, toward the next super technology. Not just self driving cars, but some radical new design, maybe flying cars (another separate thought process), maybe rocket powered, maybe anti gravity, maybe something I cannot even imagine today. And this will give us 10x, 100x, 1000x the improvement over the current system.
We have to make these jumps forward, we cannot forever stay in this crappy system of fossil fuel cars, traffic lights, human drivers, rubber tyres (did you ever see a horse carriage with rubber tyres? or a car with wooden wheels?), etc. As terrible as the horse carriage design was, that is how terrible the motor cars look to a future human being. Intolerably bad. Something that belongs in a museum.
If all humans just accepted the status quo, we would never move forward.
Here’s an article that describes how geniuses are sometimes similar to the crazies. Nice. http://nautil.us/issue/46/balance/if-you-think-youre-a-genius-youre-crazy-rp
Oh, and about that flying car thing, what the answer is not flying cars, but smaller aeroplanes?
Kelly: Listen, I’m under Evelyn Waugh. Shh. Okay?
John: Okay, yeah!
Kelly: Okay, arigato. [to Charlotte] Aarigato.
John: [laughing] Moshi moshi!
[Kelly walks away]
Charlotte: Evelyn Waugh?
Charlotte: Evelyn Waugh was a man.
John: [shocked] Oh, c’mon, she’s nice. What? You know– You know, not everyone went to Yale. Its just a pseudonym, for Christ’s sake.
Charlotte: Why do you have to defend her?
John: Well… why do you have to point out how stupid everybody is all the time?
Charlotte: I thought it was funny. Forget it.
Charlotte: You ever switch seats?
Bob: Uh, I like this one. If I fall, someone will notice.
Charlotte: Yeah. So, you having a nice time?
Bob: Can you keep a secret? I’m trying to organize a prison break. I need like, what, an accomplice. We have to first get out of this bar, then the hotel, then the city, and then the country. Are you in or you out?
Charlotte: I’m in.
Charlotte: I’ll go pack my stuff.
Bob: Get your coat.
Charlotte: See ya. [walks away]
Bob: I hope you’ve had enough to drink. It’s gonna take courage
An Olympic pool is framed by tall glass walls with the Tokyo
view. Bob is handed a swim cap and goggles.
Bob watches a Japanese BUSINESSMAN swimming, he looks like
an over-grown baby.
Bob swims laps in the pristine pool.
He continues his laps. Under water he sees the jumping legs
of MIDDLE-AGED WOMEN.
A disco mixed tape starts, and above water we see a WESTERN
INSTRUCTOR in tight shorts leading an aqua-aerobics class to
the group of WOMEN, They jump up and down to Sister Sledge.
Bob: How long you’ve been married? [lights Charlotte’s cigarette]
Charlotte: Oh, thank you. Two years.
Bob: Try twenty-five.
Charlotte: You’re probably just having a mid-life crisis. Did you buy a Porsche yet?
Bob: You know, I was thinking about getting a Porsche.
Charlotte: Twenty-five years. That’s, uh, well it’s impressive.
Bob: Well you figure, you sleep one-third of your life, that knocks out eight years of marriage right there. So you’re, y’know, down to sixteen and change. You know you’re just a teenager, at
marriage; you can drive it but there’s still the occasional accident.
It’s odd that I like this movie. Never heard of Bill Murray before that, nor particularly liked his other work much. I think this movie is full of very quiet, precious moments, and dialogue. It does so well in capturing fleeting moments, in-between moments. Sweetly bittersweet. His dry witty remarks, her smiles. His indecipherable whisper, her gazes.
These movies with one-off stories…well those that actually work out, are gems. Plenty other movies fall flat.
“a smart and thoughtful movie”
I think I also love films dripping with poignancy. (what a lovely word. poignant.) like Boyhood. so beautiful, so real. films that simply take my breath away.
a review quoted “Had we but time and world enough, ”
woah that’s quite a poem https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/44688
“This is what you must remember: the ending of one story is just the beginning of another. This has happened before, after all. People die. Old orders pas. New societies are born. When we say “the world has ended.”, it’s usually a lie, because the planet is just fine.
But this is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.
For the last time.”
Also, her second book in the series The Obelisk Gate. and a third book yet to be published.
A pretty good effort at science fiction. The first book was enrapturing. It could be more detailed, and could be even more eloquent (like how Ada Palmer’s Too like the lightning was downright amazing), but this was good enough, and also a lighter read.
The second book was too much of a filler, and dropped the ball significantly. Hoping the last book in the series would properly fill out the storyline.
There are so many different types of people in the world,
And we stumbled into each other.
I could never have predicted you would be the one for me,
Neither me for you.
We were a world apart, in many ways similar,
And in as many ways un-similar.
In the books Wheel of Time there were weaves after weaves in the thread of the fabric,
Apart yet coming together in moments.
In our infinitely complicated lives we had our own weaves,
And our own impossibly improbable together.
I strain to recall our bus rides,
Our blackberry messages,
Our encounter at night at the Raffles Hotel,
Our evenings at Istana Park,
Our Mexican dinner at Holland Village,
And the unique tiramisu,
Our airport dinners,Tjhender
And always being by each other side these years.
We would never understand why this is our book,
But this is our story,
And you would be my family unto forever.
A good book, if a little long winded, and story is still not concluded. till Book2.
Some people talk down to children, as if they assume a small body houses a small intellect. Some people talk past them, bludgeoning them with unfamiliar words until the kids accept what they can’t understand. Chance or Providence, whichever you prefer, had sent Bridger a sensayer who treated the child as an equal intelligence, just blessed with newness, ready for difficult things, so long as they were presented honestly.
Child “The Major and the soldiers and Mycroft told me what war is like. They say it’s the second worst thing in the world.”.
Man: “That’s an interesting definition. What did they say is the worst thing?”
Child: “Not having anything worth fighting for in the first place.”
Bridger smiled at last, and I felt the warmth of the conclusion spread through myself as well. I am no sensayer. In Caryle’s place I would have just said that death is bad, and that of course he should bring Pointer back. But that would have brought a world of pain upon the child. Do you still not see it, reader? The moral consequences ten steps further along, which Carlyle forsees as clearly as signposts on a road? If Bridger had brought Pointer back on the theory that it’s always better to be alive than dead, then what about the other plastic corpses lost somewhere in the trench dust? He should bring them back. What about Emma Platz? Lesley’s Parents? The recently deceased sensayer Carlyle replaced? What about the stranger who died yesterday in a hospital on the far side of the world? Or every stranger, every death, back to the dawn of time? Soon the nightmare guilt that sometimes kept me up at night would kindle in the boy, and make him feel that every soul that ever died was on his conscience for not resurrecting them. But this way, deciding based on what the soldier personally would want, Bridger could bring Pointer back and still reserve the possibility of death being okay, and not take up the burden (yet) of saving all of us. At this point I sent my silent signal to Thisbe and the Major that I thought this sensayer could be trusted.
“But what if there’s a God?” Only a child could ask so bluntly, reader.
I will spare you the next part. You may assume that Carlyle stayed with Bridger in the garden for another hour, leading him through the hypotheticals of Nirvana, Gehenna, Guinee, Mictlan, Hell, of nothingness, of reincarnation, or souls returning, souls merging, souls evaporating, no souls at all, presenting many options and leaving many open doors. Their conclusions were neither solely Bridger’s nor solely Carlyle’s, but discoveries made striding hand in hand through theology’s well-trodden ground.
Voltaire was also a Deist, which means they believed that all religions are different understandings of the same universal God. Who made the world but doesn’t really care what name or names He’s called by.”
“Late in life Voltaire built a small church on their estate. They put an inscription over the entrance, Deo Erexit Voltaire: built for God by Voltaire. After so many churches built to saints, they said, it was about time someone built one to God. In a sense it’s the high temple of Deism, strange as it sounds to say that a religion which combines most all religions could have a high temple’
It was a intriguing descriptive of five close high school friends, and how their friendship meant so much as they were growing up, but the intensity fell apart as they went to college and the pain caused by the rifts and the strangeness of their eventual careers and lives was so hurtful/devastating/awkward.
“and this was what they did most often – they just hung out someplace, and talked for hours. It wasn’t like they showed up with a topic in mind – they just never ran out of things to talk about.”
It’s difficult for large groups of friends to stay together a long time. Especially as life, habits, and circumstances change. We should appreciate it while it lasts.
“Not everything was lost in the flow of time. … We truly believed in something back then, and we knew we were the kind of people capable of believing in something – with all our hearts. And that kind of hope will never simply vanish.”
It’s been so long that I forget
The streets branching off Orchard Road,
The Wisma-Taka underpass
And oh the Lucky Plaza one too.
I forget the first Singtel shop that used to be in the basement where the first HTC phone was,
The old back door escalator of Kino that made is so fast to get out to the train station,
The first Garret popcorns, nah that wasn’t so long,
When Heeren used to be a youth paradise with warrens of stalls, now moved to bugis.
When there was HMV, now long gone, long past the time of CDs,
When there were younger simpler crowds,
When it was afternoon on a weekday,
When we thought we were finally old enough, but really still really not that old after all.