August 22, 2018

tonight i met a friend of mine at the embarcadero cinemas to see sorry to bother you, which was brilliant.  i got there a little early to buy our tickets, and i was sitting outside, with my popcorn and my cherry icee, my monkey pipe, a litRPG book, my purple hair and my general joie de vivre.  a handsome young man comes around the corner and says,

“bold.  bold!  i like it!”

salutes me and continues on…and the very best part was that there were so many things about me that he could have been talking about, and i have no idea what it was.


i am not alone.

November 10, 2016

a year or so ago we had an anti-bullying assembly at school and there were buttons. i keep two posted in my apartment where i can see them–one in the bathroom and one here on the bookshelf, next to the computer–that both say, “you are not alone.”

sometimes i feel very, very alone.

sometimes i think those buttons are mother-fucking liars.

kurt vonnegut has this quote from timequake:

“Many people need desperately to receive this message: ‘I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.'”

i know that there are lots of people who feel as despairing of hope and as abused and shocked and incredulous about this election as i do–i know this.  the buttons tell me, kurt vonnegut tells me, facebook tells me.

i am not alone.

and maybe, together, we can do something to salvage the ideals of our country.  maybe, together, we can protect the people and ideas so savagely attacked by trump in his campaign and heal some of the wounds and rifts that he might not have caused, but that he certainly made worse.

i am trying to hope.  i am trying to keep it together.  i am trying to understand that all those hateful, frightened trump supporters probably also just wanted to know that they are not alone, but i cannot stomach that anyone with a shred of humanity could ignore his hatefulness.  i don’t know if i can be the bigger person and forgive them–i don’t even know if i have it in me to try, but hating them isn’t going to help me and it isn’t going to hurt or teach them anything.

we are in this world together and the things we do matter, the things we say matter, the way we think matters.  we need to try to find a way to get through this together.


July 25, 2014

yesterday i went downtown to the embarcadero theater to see boyhood, richard linklater’s new film that i’ve been wondering about since i first heard of the concept. 

it was outstanding.

linklater has definitely made some films that i have not only not liked, but actively hated–suburbia, you eric bogosian piece o’ crap, i’m looking at you–but many more that i love.  his overt philosophical musings, his use of music, the way he shows people interacting in such realistic situations…everything that i’ve loved about him in the past is here in boyhood in such a pure and beautiful form, it really took my breath away.

it was so real that it was disorienting.  i found myself fixating at least as much on patricia arquette as on mason–it’s hard to describe the beauty of the understated performance and the canvas that the years painted beyond anything in the script.  the years she gains and loses weight through the marriages, the way her hair and clothes change, her demeanor as relationships begin and end.  and the boy, ellar coltrane, makes the dialogue seems so natural that it’s almost hard to give him credit for the work he does.  linklater’s daughter is the only slightly weak link and she can be fairly annoying–i remember how much i hated her in waking life, too!–but she’s like dawn in buffy the vampire slayer…she annoys the shit out of you, but she has her moments and serves her purpose.

i can’t wait to see this film again and again, and not in a cheesey “cats” way.  i felt like i had watched a child grow to adulthood, something i’ve never really done.  i see them from teen years on up, but not really how they start.  boyhood achieves a level of art and truth in showing these people live and grow that even terrence malick with his dinosaurs couldn’t touch.