Barkerburgh

I warned you about Google and Skynet, didn’t I?

Didn’t I?

I got this from Anneli, and as she said, ‘Fantasy Overload‘!

Wait for the ending!

Avoid the film ‘Cradle Will Rock’!

The well-known radical leftist Tim Robbins wrote and directed this sensationalistic and overblown paean to Communism, anti-Fascism and creeping Trade-Unionism. Only somewhat fictionalized, it is inspired by a particular period in 1937, when the House Committee on Un-American Activities was young, and when labour unrest was rising, the former being demonized while the latter is praised. One does not expect objectivity in films like this, from people like this, and one is never disappointed.

Set in the lead up to WWII, among the actors and artists, magnates and industrialists of New York City, populated by the rich and the poor, the wicked and the kind, the clever and the canny, the story is based around the character of Marc Blitzstein, a left-wing composer, and the production of his pro-union musical, ‘The Cradle Will Rock.’

He is played by Hank Azaria, who, curiously, only ever uses one voice – although I am certain I heard Moe Szyslak in one crowd scene.

The producers managed to reconstruct Diego Rivera’s fresco commissioned for the RCA Building at Rockefeller Center in New York. Then, appropriately, on camera, as in real life, they destroyed it as part of the movie’s action, of course, but also as a subtle warning to Communists and trade-unionists. Fictionally, the destruction was moved from 1933 to 1937, and the scenes of its destruction were intercut with scenes of the impromptu opening night of Blitzstein’s play.

I will admit the casting was quite fine, even including Susan Sarandon’s bad Italian accent. John Turturro, Vanessa Redgrave, Bill Murray, John Cusack, Cary Elwes, Emily Watson, many others, all did a fine job, while revealing their left-wing sympathies, and making sure their names go on secrets lists in Washington and under Cheyenne Mountain (a wholly owned subsidiary of the Dupont Corporation.)

All in all, very enjoyable, for a left-wing, subversive, anti-establishment, hippy, yippy, People’s Republic, beatnik, Tommy Douglas in Ho Chi Minh City out on a Saturday night, kind of movie.

But don’t let it sway you.

Woo hoo! (more…)

I heard a young man recite this on CNN, during an item on the North Carolina fire that killed several members of the Delta Delta Delta sorority and the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity from the University of South Carolina. He was speaking about his late fraternity brothers.

It’s a little dated - and even sexist, in the sense that it could - and should - apply to women too, in any age, but I like the feel and the flavour of it.

It doesn’t last long enough.
It takes too long.
It lasts just long enough.

There’s no place to put it, or there’s no room for it anyway, or you forget where you put it just when you really need it.
If you ever remember where you did put everything, you never remember where it all was to start with.

It takes too long to get everywhere and there’s never enough time.
It’s always too far from where you are to where everything all is, and then you don’t want to have to come all the way back.

Even if you’re really interested in everything, it’s way too easy to get distracted by everything else.

It’s too small.
It’s too big.

Some of it costs too much.
There’s too much free stuff.

Everybody else is into it all, too.
You have to share everything with everybody else.

The choice of size, colour and style is too broad.

The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
There’s too many parts of the whole.
Each individual part of the sum is as interesting as every other part.

You never remember everything’s name.
The signage is too complicated, if there’s any signage at all.
The instructions are too complicated, if there’s any instructions at all.

If it was a movie, it would probably be a prize-winning foreign film without subtitles.
If it was a book, it would probably be all table of contents, endnotes, appendix, and index.
If it was a game, it would calvinball. Or fizbin.

If it was a computer application, it would be from Microsoft (which would make Bill Gates God, so never mind that one.)

Christians see everything as Christian. Communists see everything as Communist. Bolivians see everything as Bolivian. Mac users - well, Mac users.

Everything’s too high. It’s too long. It’s too much. It’s too good.

If everything was a poem, it would be the Aeneid. All except for the part about finally arriving in Italy, because you never - ever- get to Italy.

There’s too much to choose from in a reasonable amount of time.

In the end, you never find what you really needed anyway.
You never get what you really wanted either.

But somewhere in the chaos of everything, you just might find your heart’s desire. Even if you don’t really quite know exactly what that is. Or just where it might be out there.  Wondering and searching are half the joy of everything.

If everything was time, it would always be about to run out.

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Edited/Improved Monday, October 22, 2007

And thank you, Peter, Leslie and Simon.

They invited me to join them on Thanksgiving Day.

First we went to the ancient and mysterious ‘Crawford Lake‘ , on the Niagara Escarpment near Milton, where I partly grew up. Crawford Lake is a scientific marvel because it is meromictic. This means that the water layers within the small, deep lake never mix, or ‘turn over’; there are few if any currents within the lake and sediments are laid down in predictable, datable and unmixed sequences that can be dated, analyzed and have data extrapolated from them. Apparently, sedimentary analysis predicted the existence (and probable location, too, I think) of a local pre-Columbian aboriginal village, which has been reconstructed on its original site. Very interesting.

The lake is surrounded by a railed boardwalk which, while allowing people near the lake to see it or observe it, nevertheless keeps them away from it; swimming, drinking or any kind of interference or pollution is forbidden, so delicate is the lake and so important is it scientifically and historically. Very cool.

Then, for dinner, we went down to Burlington to Joan’s (Peter’s mother) 10th floor apartment overlooking Burlington Bay / Hamilton Harbour. What a view!

Dinner was a spread! Ham, garlic mashed potatoes, carrots, squash, brussel sprouts, cabbage, corn relish, hot mustard, wine, water, I don’t remember what else, but there was more. I ate like a mediaeval guest. Who hadn’t eaten all day, practically.

Leslie and Peter were, as usual, fine company. Joan is always interesting, and but for a brief fit of the crunkles, Simon was his usual well-behaved sensible self. So was I.

All in all, a day to be thankful for.

…<font title=”Pushing Daisies - seen the premiere thrice - and it kicks - but don’t tell anyone…”>but I can’t talk about the ones I really like, or they’ll get cancelled</font>.

So I’m walking down Parliament and I see this unicycle. Then I see a second one. I ask the guy if he’s with the unicycles. He tells me he is. He tells me his kids unicycle and he’s taught Regent Park kids to do it. Then I see a third unicycle. I assure him I’m not mocking him (I’m totally not - this is so cool) and I ask him if I can take a picture. His kids come out of the store (I ask their permission too) and I got the picture.

Swear to God, it’s like living in France, only without the mimes.

and bows and keyboards and frets and woodwinds and…

Happy 14th Anniversary, Urban Tapestry. I’ve only ever heard you live once but you’re still hot.

Y’all should do a calendar!