doubleya

I just watched a movie called W.
Oliver Stone directed Josh Brolin in the role of George W. Bush.
 
Brolin's Bush is fantastic.
He actually made me a bit sympathetic to ol' George.
I despise what Bush' s year reign of idiocy did to the world.  But in his portrayal, Brolin shows him as a man who never had an interest in politics but felt it was the only way to impress George Sr. and win his approval. Junior was happiest running a baseball team.

It doesn't shy away from his stupidity, but it does show that if you met W at a BBQ he'd probably be an alright kinda guy. As the leader of the free world... not so much.

The challenge for an actor to portray a historical figure, especially one that is still living, is great.
Meryl Streep was flawless as former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. Of course when isn't Streep flawless? But there was also that personal level, that which makes them human, that we don't often see in so many of our leaders. When an actor can bring that, it is something remarkable.

Of course there are always limitations.
I wonder if anyone could make a movie that actually made Stephen Harper seem human?

go blog yourself

Someone asked me recently if I blogged. My immediate response was "Yes" followed by ".. um.. well.. I mean, I have blogged.. I have a blog.. I blog but I haven't really been blogging much lately..." The word Blog became a bit of a swear word.
Oh Blog.
Bloggity Blog Blog.
Bloggots.

It is not that I have a lack of ideas. Oh no, there are many snippets and drafts saved, many scraps of lines in files. I have no trouble producing the pieces. It's the threading it together that is the difficult part. 

I find I need to be inspired. And so I wait for inspiration to hit me; wait for the Muse. It is not elusive, she comes quite often in fact. But I never know how long a visit from that flighty sprite will last.
Try as I might the discipline to write when not in the mood escapes me. And yet I know it is something for which I should strive, plug regardless.
What would Plath do? Or Woolf?
They would force themselves.
They would be happily consumed.

Perhaps it's not inspiration, but focus that I need; the ability to concentrate without wandering off and following every shiny speck of dust that floats it's way into my peripheral vision.

How can I finish a writing a book if I can't finish writing a blog post?

Oh Blog.
Blog Off.

accidental gifts

I felt a bit of a creeper taking this shot, but so glad I did.

I've always seen the world in photographs. As far back as I can remember, the world has been broken down by frames, and memories are snapshots.
 Even as a kid with my family's Kodak Instamatic, I would try to capture my view, whether it was the dinner table from underneath, or clouds that looked like dragons. Thankfully in today's digital world, I no longer have to wait for photo's to come back- only to find one out of the twenty four was decent. Or that I got carried away with twenty two shots of the chair leg.

Sometimes, as the shutter closes, I hear a voice that says "this is the one" and I know this will be a good photo. But sometimes I am surprised. Pleasantly.
Sometimes what was an accidental shot, becomes the best in the roll. So to speak. This picture happened to be one of those photo's at one of those times.

We were spending a few hours at a local swimming-hole. It's a fast moving river that runs through the woods, and eventually feeds into the ocean. This is a place where you park your car at the bridge and followed the footpath through the woods. For a while my friends and I were the only ones there, but gradually, others arrived. 

She was young and he was quite a bit older. He sounded as though he were trying to impress her with the things he was saying. She was young, but looked hard. Thin. She gave the impression that she had seen a lot and grown up fast.
I was drawn to the writing tattooed across the right side of her back but couldn't read what it said. Pretending to take a picture of the water beyond her, I zoomed in with the intent of quickly snapping it and reading it later. The text was familiar, and although I couldn't identify it at first, I knew it was from a poem I studied in university literature class.

Back at home, on my computer screen, I remembered the stance from Kubla Khan by Coleridge. It made me want to ask this girl why was so impressed with this passage that she chose to scrawl in on herself with the most permanent of inks. Did she decide on it herself, or was it meant for someone else?

And then I realized... although it wasn't intentional, there's something I really like about this shot. Something about it speaks to me.
Sometimes my favorite pictures aren't even one's I've consciously taken.

I like to think of those as little gifts from the Universe.

going on record

I can safely say that this has been the best summer.
Ever.
The weather has been gorgeous, hot, sunny. Right now the humidity is high, but I don't even care.
Trips to the beach have been plentiful and glorious.
Sunsets have stopped my breath.
Salt water has been warm (Atlantic warm) and healing and invigorating.

I am never happier than when I am at the beach, so the past three months have been happy happy happy.
I just want to go on record as saying that.