Nothing_Is_Sacred

Over Me

2008-02-23T07:19:00.001-08:00

Everything is scarred, content is scarce, nothing is sacred.

Apparition appears, or so it appears, floating pale non-descript ghostly career, careering. Watching the right hand as the left hand leads, heart chewed up, failing hard over turning gears.

Contradiction, spell it out loud, no reading between the lines, pronounced, perfect diction or perhaps tales spun fiction, vague and open to interpretation.
Let you make of it what you may, desire for eyes unclouded, out loud, strike it rich on imagination mother load.

You see and so it seems, you see. Yet I urge you to pick it apart by the seams, un-sew.
And so, smoke and mirrors slight of hand directs visions ability to understand and on and on and tedium pendulum swings, these are the times, or so it seems.

Instincts says gut the floundering fish, cut the flailing skin, open stitches sewn, yet, don’t be surprised when you’re not surprised by what you see, nothing.

Drawing board passions calculation, calculated dissected learnt acted.
Assembly lines wooden bones plastic blood two bit show, bit pieces considered, perfect package, numbers and figures to the nth degree.

Boring broken record boy says he detests, I’ll lay this tired head to rest, “formulaic, hypocrite, my trait, sick of it, dismiss it, spit on it”, tedium Ben sings.

Riding The Human Tide

2008-02-23T07:13:00.000-08:00

Intimate, in to you.
Bodies pressed, loveless.
Strangers touching.
Packed out, packed in.

Lost in the fold of your clothes.

A to B, rolling and rocking, clothed, rocks off, not shocking.
Tender positions explored, forget for behind closed doors, doing the kind of things dreamed.
Desire taken for reality, disguised, a cloak of worked out and tired, to’s in the throws.

Close, dealt thin, spread, a sexual jigsaw, moving.
Fitting together, outs and ins.
Hands shaping sculptors finer details, beauty is imperfection.
Lawless, skin and out, and in and out and in.
Innocence, and accidents, excuse me but their maybe some sinister lurkin’.

A trip, some embarrassed faces noted as attention aroused, pleasurable carousel.
Hard, in, and heavily, into necks napes.
Passions blood glowing pounding, glitter glimmering skin.
Hair full face, breathing long breaths.
Glare an empty chest, bounty full, hidden, treasure to discover, out, not undercover.
Arms rap around bodies’ brittle birdcage, polite, unity, daily and nightly.
Men and women, men and men, women and women.
Bones against preys’ openness, soft landscape melt together, again and again.

Nameless, no introductions, a new wordless exchange, intimacy sea, saw, swam.

Used tissue people everyday, bits and pieces, which I wouldn’t usually.

Moving in motion, waves of human ocean, consumed.

Lars & The Real Girl

2008-02-23T07:04:00.000-08:00

Featuring: Ryan Gosling, Emily Mortimer and Paul Schneider.
Directed: Craig Gillespie.
Written: Nancy Oliver.

With a little understanding, I approached this film not really knowing too much about it, in turn making the experience all the more enjoyable. A tender and endearing document ‘Lars & The Real Girl’ is a sad, beauty full, happy story.

Following Lars (Gosling), a bereaved alienated affected veteran of circumstances, we inhabit his world as he communicates with everyday. Polite, reserved, sweet and delusional Lars lives in the garage of his brother Gus (Schneider) and pregnant wife Karin (Mortimer). Perhaps stirred by Karin’s pregnancy and his inabilities Lars seems indefinitely lost. Concerned with his well being the couple attempt efforts to help him interact more successfully, however, Lars has other plans, seeking solace in a life-size anatomically correct doll.

Visibly affected, twenty-seven year old Lars still wears the veil (figurative and literal) his Mother knitted for him before her death during his infancy and bears the scars of his broken hearted Fathers inability to function. Based very much in reality, charmingly the story has no cool pretensions but rather an honest earnest. Fantastic yet believable I found myself lost in the environment. Set in a minimal, wintry, seemingly small town, the establishing shots are as spell binding as the story but raises the question could this same story work in an unrelenting faceless city.

Like life, personed with quirky characters and idiosyncrasies we’re asked to question what is normal behaviour and who is perfect. Observing we see Lars move about courteously yet never really connecting, until a colleague at his non-descript job brings to attention a web site providing ‘Love Dolls’, leading to the arrival of Bianca, a companion and a form of self medication.

Treated differently this could’ve been a cringe worthy slapstick experience, however successfully it manages to retain its composure appearing thoughtful and heart-warming. Devoid of sinister sex slurs with moments of collected subtle slick humour I found myself warmed by the situations rather than dark laughs at.

Bianca, although inanimate gives a great performance, integrating wonderfully into scenes, she provides a vessel for Lars to make his journey to the living. Made real by Lars and those close to him, she allows Lars to exorcise his demons and learn life’s lessons, unwinding. Her presence also provides some poignant comments on men’s and women’s wants, needs and desires and importantly points to greater acceptance of differences.

This stirring story certainly moves emotion with moments of teary tender beautiful sadness, although a little patchy Gosling is endearing as Lars, believable and understated, he balances child quality with aged seriousness, making the film an exorcise in human conditions.

A penny saved is a penny earned experience

2008-02-23T06:55:00.000-08:00

Placing the record on the counter with a damp soft thud, his arrival was pronounced. Battered around the edges the scuffed package boy saw similarities with the recordings exterior and desire in the deep black black grooves. The title faced the elderly gentleman behind the counter who obliviously inspected some incomplete jigsaw. Penniless, excuses were offered and a promise was made to hold the item for five minutes to allow time to find funding in bank accounts invisible trove, with new directions received, paths were set to destination, seeing cash extracted from dispensers gutter mouth, with return tic’s shy of deadlines dead time.

Upon his return the crisp note was held proud, a saw thumb, hammer hit swung wildly needing air to repair, to allow business transactions, legal and smooth. The shop sat empty, save for the clerk now found inspecting some foreign camera device, lost obsolete to times developing taste, he peered up down around inside outside up down around, gently probing and inspecting it’s fragile, forgotten form. Moments became minutes, feeling like hours to the waiting soon to be customer, this silent wait lasted for a good three minutes with presence not acknowledged feeling queer and unsettling. The crisp note still erected flew a flag in silent stillroom. Finishing with the camera the fellow placed it down with parents care. “Yes, can I help you?” like it was the first time eyes met paths crossed. Extending the £10, the clerk’s eyes could be seen to fill with terror arms raising palms facing forward, “Oh, no that just won’t do! Do you have anything smaller” without a hint of humour. “No, I can’t help, you’ll have to break that someplace else, the greengrocer on the corner should help you, go see him”. Bewildered the delayed customer stumbled about his business.

As minutes passed he returned with jingling steps, the empty shop still empty, silent and still. Each stride matched the other pound for pound as limber legs navigated scenery, moving must, man manoeuvring, piles of one mans junk and heaps of another mans treasure. The small change was excavated and presented hard, heads up on the stained faux wooden counter, in a kind of caricatured manner. But before the shop clerk could collect the fare, the customer swooped in and retrieved his coins, exclaiming “actually, I’ve changed my mind, thank you any way, good day”. Bewildered the clerk stared expressionless.

Heading for the door, again, terrain navigated, a blemish on clocks diminishing face, a you’ll never guess what happened to me today for both to spin later to those who would wait whilst account was relayed.

Super Calculation!

2008-02-23T06:53:00.000-08:00

Unmentioned effort and consideration went into his action, it was no accident or fluke he was able to seemingly smoothly reach his hand down to his pocket to produce the right change, exactly seventy-nine pence and then place it perfectly into her work harmed hands, in fact so determined to execute this movement he spent the previous moments arranging the change into an order, placing it in the place in his pocket he knew his hands could manoeuvre amongst, without being hindered. After his execution, nonchalantly, or seemingly, he made his way to the few seats to his right, to her left, he wondered whether or not she was impressed by his actions, the cool cool he tried to impress.

Although she reacted indifferently, responding mechanically, cutting letters from words in her final address, she made note of his movement and for those proceeding minutes she was ever so slightly bedazzled by his slight actions and pronounced presence. The pair exchanged long sip glances, irregularly, imagining what life would be like if they were to runaway to some place imaginary.

Sitting to harness his energy and to vibrate resonance and punctuation to their encounter, he surveyed the shop floor. Attention was caught by an older lady, an employee, maybe mid forty or ish, she laboured as she blew up a limp balloon for the approaching promotion, both deflated, out of shape and out of breath, they occupied a space together, the ladies complexion matched the balloon, red and rubbery. Visibly struggling slightly, she seemed feign, with a long way to go, in the middle of the foyer her effort seemed affected and directed, perhaps genuine, she proceeded to attempt to inflate the balloon unsuccessfully.

Golden Guts

2008-02-23T06:49:00.000-08:00

Ecstatic she leapt to embrace him.
Long alone, her act of affection awoke a warmth in him he’d forgotten.

The moment momentarily felt awkward.
The surprise emotion stirred, soon feeling familiar.
Her petite frame felt like home to him.
Ecstasy engulfed them, tender bodies pressed hard against each other, floating.

Jaws and cheeks clumsily collided, chins dug deep into shoulders crease, hair weaving uncontrollably.

Breathing and melting together.