Art, Me and Acura SUV’s

What if I told you there was a work of art that dealt with life, God, death, perception of reality, the beginning, the end and the highest turning point possible for a human and that it would undoubtedly shake your very understanding of these things?

Thank goodness it’s a movie, I’ve always been one to believe the longer you are able to spend with a work of art the more it has to teach you. This is why I prefer literature and cinematography over painting and sculpting. Architecture can go play with itself because at the moment I can’t think where to classify it in my simplistic rhetorique of how long an art form has with you.

Enough suspense already, It is called “The Truman Show”, and it’s a satirical psychological drama starring Jim Carrey quite a while before everyone began huffing their lungs out about how good Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind is.

I feel a little like I’m in that movie sometimes, when I predict the actions and fluid motions of a person I don’t know to the grainy final detail. That day I was sitting in one of those lines of cars that aren’t moving despite a green light because there isn’t anywhere to go. A tiny girl was behind me in an Acura SUV. She had light brownish hair, perfectly round big eyes, and a gorgeously minimal curve on her perfect model of a nose. She was messing with something in her lap and I had an arm of length between me and the car in front of me so I let go of the break slightly while looking in the rear-view mirror. I knew she would look up. I got straight contact with those eyes for something like half a second. Focusing back on the road, I smirked. I just like messing with you beautiful, I said under my breath.

This sums me up in an instance. Not; that I like messing with people, but that society’s patterns and the definitive predictable actions of individuals fascinate me.

Most of the Nice ones are Gone.

My childhood years I had a number of people enter my life. Most were too old to survive to this day it appears.
I had my Mom, who was around for my childhood between the ages of 40 and 50.
The lady that babysat me who was like 75.
And my Piano Teacher, he was also fairly old. Grouchiness was how you could tell, that and the almost-white grey colored hair.

They were the best people I knew. Nice, sophisticated, polite, never out of turn, never out of order.

Slowly over the years they’ve died, and I mean the years between 10 and 20.

I’m 20, and some of the nicest people I’ve met between the ages of 10 and now are dead.

I’m left in a world where I have to pick my friends and decide how good they are as people and friends. Whether I’m right later on is to be seen.

Shit it was easier when the people you wanted in your life sifted right in and
the garbage filtered out.

Now I get a heaping helping of both, the choice is mine.

I haven’t the slightest clue if I’m choosing right. Ever.

Most of them are gone, few are left,
and the rest, a somewhat poorly chosen selection so far, is up to me.

Tour Guides Don’t Exist.

You know the funny thing.
They tell people from New York:
You wouldn’t want to live there.
Los Angeles.
But we live here, and it’s not that far beyond hell.
For us that is.
But for you..
It’s bad.
It’s overwhelming.
You come here and as soon as you get in you say:
Let’s try and figure this out
the same way you would try to figure Math or English out in a course.
But as you try, that tired and true method, the one that works in every single imaginable other situation.
You get even more so confused than when you stepped off the plane.
You do this for a long while,
all the more time never realizing it’s not working
thinking it’s the city, the city of hell-bent gate guarding angels
It isn’t, it’s your way of thinking
Not that it’s wrong, like I said it’s great for anything else in life you would attempt to comprehend and master. If anything, we’re the fucked.
But Los Angeles isn’t great, it’s weird.
Really weird, backwards would be too far a reversal,
and forward doesn’t even enter the lexicon.
So is it somewhere in the middle?
Heavens no, or should I says Hells.
The line is not straight in this case
There is no Forward, Backward or Middle.
It’s squiggly as shit and it makes you want to puke just looking at it.
I’m sure you’re trying to visualize it right now like this is some kind of unofficial tour guide to Los Angeles.
I wish it was guys, I really do, I’d like to help you out
the same way I would if I knew something that one of my friends didn’t.
But I couldn’t even write a book about trying to adapt.
It’s fucking weird, I never had to, but I’ve seen it on others.
The faces you make, and I get it, that face,
is a direct embodiment of just the feeling your having.
You’re thinking, word for word.
How could things ever get this fucked up and stay this way for so long.

Cinematography has never fucked your mind soooo good.

What do the Adjustment Bureau, Source Code, Vanilla Sky and Memento have in common? Perhaps that’s better for each of us to individually answer.. While on Peyote, or maybe you’ll do alright without it. Back to Back to Back to Back, minds will be fucked.

Here’s my minimalist review.

Source Code = Too many realities to fully comprehend, perhaps?
Adjustment Bureau = Got a funky 40′s hat? Good you fucking hipster prick, channel that shit, the doors may open correctly.
Memento = A mothafucker will occasionally be fucked by his forgetfulness.. by the chick from the matrix.
Vanilla Sky = Maybe Tom Cruise, despite his odd behavior as a human being is actually a decent actor?

You hear that Warming Glow and FilmDrunk?

P.S Google Warming Glow and FilmDrunk, together, there is no better source for honest TV & Movie editorials.

A Lesson in You Can’t Always Get What You Want.

I guess this is where I am at 19 limping on 20. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere near where I thought I would be and the 405.

Everything a small version of what it used to be a couple years ago. I remember so many faces, nice welcoming faces. The days of salad and schooling. I would walk through a crowd and exchange true pleasantries with a good assortment of people. The social aspect of school always did make me the happiest. I still remember those faces, so many of them.

I dont mean to make it sound like I loathe every second of my existence, although I’m sure thats what the reader assumes from pretty much every one of my posts.

The pace is just different. Very slow. Absolutely no one is to blame for this. The people in my life right now are amazing. Every second I spend with them is a cool comradery, because at the very Ieast they help me forget what it’s like to return to this vodka drinking, mandarin chasing, hole in the middle of a county of angels. Or devils, who the fuck knows anymore.

Certain aspect I only dreamed about when I was still in school. I have a pretty stellar chick right now. My lesbian english teacher can kiss me where the good lord split me for using the term “chick”. “They don’t like to be referred to that way”, the supposedly liberal chick commented on one of my essays about what I’de like in my life.

I’m in a diffrent area now too. I had always heard that the valley was a desolate piece of lifeless shit (okay, so I combined a few views into one that I created), but I never imagined that it would lead to virtually total drought in social activity and bring me to possibly the slowest pace of living I have ever felt.

It’s like going on a vacation for eternity, except the vacation feeling never started because the valley just isnt that pleasant. It isnt quiet enough to be considered a vacation and it isnt loud enough to not be. It’s in that finicky fuck me middle ground that makes people cringe when hearing that one of their friends is moving there. Of course the rent is low.

Maybe my reasons are different than society’s for condemning this place, but I’m sure we agree on at least a couple bulletpoints.

There are other places similar I’m sure but none quite like it; no, the very true and unique subtle feeling of the valleys shitstain on a world map begins to set in when you’re here for what I looking back think to be 2 weeks.

One more cigarette, I’m in the valley after-all.