Quodlibets

More on Brokeback

I only very occasionally read Towleroad, which frankly is a mistake, because it's normally a damn good read.  One of the things I've appreciated lately is the "all things Brokeback" news round-up that Andy Towle consistently presents.  I almost always read something that hits home; case in point these two quotes that he's found:

"The sight of Jake Gyllenhaal crying in his truck as he drives away from Ennis (who retreats to an alley and vomits in tortured despair) is enough to make even the bitterest woman swoon. That moment, like so many in the film, feels like an epiphany not because of the gay context but because for once someone other than the woman is crying. Traditionally, women have done the heavy emotional lifting."

"And I wonder too whether now, Brokeback Mountain won't be real now... not a physical place but a cultural space, a tangible moment in time in which some folks' eyes were opened to the pointlessness and unkindness of their bigotry."

The first quote definitely makes sense to me.  I didn't really cry during Brokeback Mountain, not like I have during some movies.  (There have been times where I've had to sit and mop myself up after a movie, instead of bolting out of the place, like I normally want to do.  Not so with Brokeback.)  I'm sure part of it was that I had read the story before seeing the movie, and found the story more moving.  I'm absolutely certain that part of it was that I was so angry at the world at that moment that I was too angry to cry.  But I think part of it was relief.  I'm not sure I can exactly explain it.  I think I was relieved to see the depth of emotion expressed by both men, ultimately and too late, in the case of Ennis, but still.  It rang more true to me than other movies have where men are emotional, and I'm not sure why.  I'm trying to think of a recent movie I've seen in which a man cries, and I can't pull one up.  But it usually makes me slightly uncomfortable to see men cry; Brokeback definitely didn't hit me that way. 

Of course, the second quote is on a completely different subject that the movie addresses, even if you think it's peripherally, which is that of the enormous bigotry (because I still maintain that this movie is to it's core political; it's a charged issue and it cannot be avoided) in this country even today.  When I was in college, on National Coming Out Day we used to chalk the school (common enough on campus; not so common when it related to GLBT issues; also against the rules, technically), and one of the things we wrote was "Someone you love is gay."  I think the best way, the most efficient way to defrost hearts on this issue is to bring it home.  In liu of bringing it home that way, I think perhaps a movie is a good way to get it out there.  And this movie in particular is about destroyed lives, and the lives are destroyed because of the love that's forced to hide.  Lives aren't destroyed in this film because the men are gay; Jack and Ennis fall in love before their marriages begin.  Both women (and the men, of course) could have been spared the agony they faced if only Jack and Ennis had lived in a world that would have embraced them.

I think people have to understand this to understand why their rampant bigotry is wrong; I think people have to see that it isn't the love that destroys lives, but the fact that the love has to be denied.  At least, I hope that's what people are seeing, because that's the truth of it.

All things know, all things know

I know that Tim has already blogged about the song "Chicago", off of Sufjan Stevens album "Illinoise", and he is better at writing about music than I am, but I have to write about the song too.

I've had the album for a long while now, but never listened to it as intensely as I have in the past few days.  It's spectacular, and I've known it was spectacular since the beginning, but it's something even more now.  I know that's vague, but I can't describe how ridiculously good it feels to let this music wash over you.  I've been pondering the question of if the subject of the album makes me love it more, being a native Illinoisian and even a native Chicagoan (sort of; I'm from the suburbs, but consider Chicago my "downtown".), but can't come up with an answer.

I only know that when I listen to "Chicago", there is a depth of meaning that I'm not sure how to express.  It hits me hard.  Part of it is definitely the choral feel of some of the song--it doesn't sound super-polished and perfect.  It sounds like a group of normal people singing the song, and it makes me feel comfortable.  I feel like I can (and I do, of course) sing along perfectly.  I don't even want to sing along with Sufjan's parts, because I like feeling like I'm "in the band".  If that makes sense.

I'm not sure I can quantify my love for the CD any more than that.  I can't pick out individual elements that I like because I like it all so much.  And it will now always be tied to this week, this month, this period where I'm starting a new job that I'm liking very much.  I can't say that's a bad thing, either.

Manana

Wish me well.....I'm starting the new job tomorrow.  I'm nervous, of course, because I'm a nervous norvis, but also a little comforted by the fact that I know everyone already.  And like them.  That's already a victory.

Of course, things will change for me, a little bit, when I'm not the intern but an employee.  I think I'll get a big ol' earful of library politics this time (oh, who am I kidding?  I did last time too.), but I'll be more involved this time.  And, I'll earn money for the work I do.  Which, well, let's face it, I may not be a workhorse at home, but at work, I pull my weight.  So yeah, I'm looking forward to it.

You know, except for the actually having to do work part. 

Merry Chrismahanukwanzakahli

As in Christmas-Hanukkah-Kwanzaa-Diwali.  I hope it's blessed with family, friends, and lots of love.  Eat good food, drink good drink and stand in the kitchen and laugh.  That's what we do, anyway.  Doesn't get better.

See you on the other side of xmas!

December 8, 1980

It's hard to imagine it any differently.  I wish we didn't have to.  It's hard to not sound cheesy and lame when remembering him, so I'm just going to post one of his songs that is as appropriate today as it was when it was written.

Merry Xmas (War is Over)

(Happy Xmas Kyoko
Happy Xmas Julian)

So this is Xmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Xmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very Merry Xmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Xmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong
And so happy Xmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let's stop all the fight

A very Merry Xmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Xmas
And what have we done
Another year over
A new one just begun
And so happy Xmas
We hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very Merry Xmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over, if you want it
War is over now

The Christmas Tree, Round Two

Plans, Pt. II (The Movie)

I just finished a wonderfully sad movie.  I can't imagine a more haunting, beautiful, heart-wrenching documentary.  I wanted to cry and laugh, and I want S to see it (I thought it wouldn't interest him, but I think I was wrong.) but I can't imagine how I could ever live through it again. 

If you haven't seen Born Into Brothels, you should consider watching it.  I can understand that even the idea of it is hard to stomach.  All of the childrens' stories are touching, but there are those few that grab you even more.  You understand that if someone doesn't help these kids, bad things will happen.  The girls will end up prostitutes like their mothers, and the boys will end up addicted to drugs, criminals who steal to procure the drugs.  It's a horror-filled life that you cannot even imagine.  The footage would be powerful with no sound.

And I think that part of the reason the movie grabs you is because you're able to see what these kids can do when you put a point-and-shoot in their hands.  Their snapshots are filled with images you can't forget; gorgeous, breath-taking photos.  You cannot believe that someone with that sort of talent would be abandoned to the filth, squalor and disease of the red-light district.  But it is, for many of them, fated.  No matter how much help they receive, it isn't enough.  It's impossible to think about for too long, simply because of the tragedy of it.

Still, it was worth watching, and I would definitely recommend it.  Maybe not when you're having a bad day or when you're feeling faint of heart, but it is good.

Hey Jude, Don't Make It Bad

Tonight, MaccaFest 2005 began with the McCartney show at the United Center.  (S and I are also going to the show in Milwaukee, coming up on Sunday.)  Here are some thoughts:

• Pretty sure you could call the tour "Nostalgia Tour '05" or "Charming America One City at a Time."  Damn, that man is a charming bastard.  You just can't hate him for being a ham.  You can't. 
• "Helter Skelter" was a mis-step.  No one wants to see Paul making noise.  I think that the song was really just a wall of noise intended to beat the crowd into submission.  It worked.  All the momentum built in the audience in that one moment just died.
• There is nothing fucking cooler than seeing "Band on the Run."  There just isn't.  I turned to my friend Tim during the show and said "I'm pretty sure he could just play "Band on the Run" for two hours, and I would love it."  I think it's impossible for me to get sick of it.  And live, it just rules.  The audience adores it, and the concert kicks into high gear when the band plays it.
• I dare anyone to tell me that the moment, at the end of "Hey Jude" when the whole audience is singing, "Na na na na na na naaaaa, na na na, hey jude" is not touching and perfect.  It's such a big, good moment.  It's like your heart just overflows. 
• Also, same feelings during "Let It Be".  Just not the singing along.
• The pyrotechnics during "Live and Let Die" were amazing.  In fact, the whole stage set-up fucking rocked.  I guess when you have millions to spend on lighting and stage, that's what you get.  I can't imagine a better show, to the eye.  Hearing it was good, but seeing it only made it better. 
• It was weird being in the Upper Deck.  Good seats, definitely.  No complaint there.  But the crowd isn't standing and dancing; I think everyone's a little afraid of falling.  It would have been nice to dance more, but I can't complain.  The seats rocked, in terms of where they were.
• "Eleanor Rigby" was a highlight for me, as well as "I Will".  I like the harmonies the other band members provided during ER (as opposed to a few other songs, where the harmonies just don't do the songs justice).  And Paul's solo version of "I Will" was lovely.  "I Will" is one of those songs that you don't hear much about, but it's always been one of my quiet favorites.  I'm pretty sure that no one can beat Sir Paul when it comes to a love song, and "I Will" is a great one.

And one personal thing.  I couldn't stop thinking of my cousin's baby, Jude, during "Hey Jude".  It's obvious, yes, but I think the baby was named for the song.  Somehow, it put things into a different kind of perspective for me.  I can't really explain it, except to say that as much as I don't like babies (and kids), it's somehow nice to know that the baby exists.  And if people are going to procreate, well, I'm happy that my cousin and his partner are the ones doing it.  He's a really great guy, and the baby is adorable.  And loved.  So loved.  It changes the song, it really does.

(MaccaFest 2005 was/is brought to you by the letters J and R, and the number one.  Thanks, Poodge.)

One more End

As in odds and ends.  I found one more thing you can do to help Hurricane relief efforts.  Restaurants ALL over the country are doing something called "Dine For America"; each restaurant is structuring its donations differently.  You can see which restaurants are doing what at the Dine for America website. 

Seven restaurants in my little suburban town are taking part, and I imagine that in some places, even more restaurants will be participating.  It might not take any effort; I noticed that the Caribou Coffee in my town was doing it, so it could involve spending less than $5.  I'm sure that S and I will take part in this effort--after all, we love food.  Why not combine the two things? 

There but for the grace

Yesterday, JD died.  He was 26, and the fact that he survived this long is a testament to how much of a fighter he was.  I don't know the details of his long battle, only that it involved a brain tumor, surgery, coma and survival.  I was young when it started--and I can't remember how I processed the return of the tumor, or the surgery.  I know that I visited him in his rehabilitation home (ironically, not far from where S and I are living now), and that I was scared.  Scared for him, and yes, for me.  Mortality was new to me, and knowing that JD could die was the first experience of that emotion I'd ever had.

Through the years, I was aware that he was not living the same life I was.  I was starting middle school, and then high school.  I went to concerts and stayed out late at night.  I went to prom and I graduated.  I started college and I went to Rome.  JD was fighting for his life, in and out of a coma that should have, by all accounts, been the long, slow, slip into death.  News of him passed through the grapevine; he was out of the coma, or he was at home again; that sort of thing.  By and far, I was continually reminded, at these times, that his life no longer mirrored my own, as it had for much of my childhood.  He fought hard for every bit of life that passed into his lungs; I have had the good fortune to breathe as if I didn't know I was doing it.

The last time I saw JD was at my cousin J's wedding.  He sat, inscrutably, on the edges of the dance floor as we girls danced in and out, around him, drinking so much, laughing so much.  I cannot imagine how our vitality looked to him; did he revel in it?  Or was it an insult to him, how we could be so alive and so indifferent to his compromised state?  I can't know the answer to that, and I choose to think that the kindness of his brothers, of his old friends, and of his beloved friend, my cousin J, were enough, at that point, to sustain him. 

He wasn't in good shape at the end, you know, but I had begun, at some point, to take his living for granted.  Because I thought, for a long time, that his would be the first wake and funeral that I would attend.  And he hung on, and he hung on, and my grandfather died, disabusing me, not very gently, of that notion.  Perhaps my adulthood began then; perhaps JD's funeral and wake would be the first of my adult life.  But S's grandfather died recently, and those sad events became a milestone.  I guess I had forgot, recently, that JD could die.  That someday, I would hear through the grapevine that he had died.  I knew, but I didn't know.  And now, now I know.

I won't remember JD as he was at the wedding, or in the rehabilitation center.  Instead, I'll remember him as he was on some summer day, before the tumor came back, before he had to start fighting.  One summer day, JD pinched my ass.  We couldn't have been more than 8 or 9, but even then, I understood that it was NOT OKAY for a boy to pinch my ass, and I was verrrrry angry.  He earned my wrath; I was so angry that I still remember the incident, even though other boys have pinched my ass, even though other boys took up my time.  I can't help but remember that first time. 

Forever, I will remember JD as the first boy who pinched my ass; I would rather remember him as that alive, interesting boy than the man he was forced to become.