Days of Earth and Stone

On the fields of battle, forward vision is a blur.  The only clarity comes through the reflections of the weapons we wield.  Therein, we witness the damage we've done this day.

Day or night, the darkness will distort one's truth.  Through our weapons, the carnage we've caused, shines brighter than the nightmares in each our every pause

Approaching new terrain, we will not feel the frigid air.  We will only march onwards as our directives are detailed.  If we glance within our blades, a different scene paints the fields  last known

In the end, time will claim both man and deadly steel.  Many moons will keep our victories and losses relegated to the words of passers-down.  Some day though, our remains, both bone and steel, will be found and claimed.  Many thoughts may arise, how deadly blades fare the least well of all.  They grow brittle as the ground it rests within.  Makes one wonder why the sieging every stirred, if any side truly won, such a war that only ends in dirt and stone.

The Damaging Tilt of Teenage Seclusion

I used to love Pinball.  As a kid I would go over to the mall every weekend, but not for the same reason as all the other kids.  Nope, I wouldn't meander aimlessly throughout, hopping from table to table in the food court.  No, I went right into the arcade and played pinball all the time.  Would spend the entire day there.  Unfortunately, as much as I enjoyed playing, I never was a Pinball Wizard, which, in a way, I suppose is a good thing.

Nevertheless, I thought I would see about coming up with an abstractly layered piece to pay tribute to those long since past days.  Funny thing, after doing this piece I happened to stop by that old arcade, still there after this many years-guess I wasn't the only kid to waste away their weekends in this way.  But I sat their and played a few games of pinball, and I have to say, although I never was great at the game, this adult cannot hold a candle to that child.  I just wasn't into it and believe me, the memories made me want to be, so badly too.  But change happens, oh well.  I really hope when I'm seventy I don't post that I used to enjoy reading, telling stories and trying to display my thoughts/ideas visually.

Tokens for the Ferry Man

Gemstone Tragedy

Wormhole

Plane's Eye View

Preparing for the holidays-Rooftop POV

Our Idiot Brother

Our Idiot Brother, plainly put, was a delight to watch.  In so many comedies, films in general, emphasis is placed upon the lowest common denominator to generate laughter.  I’m talking about those films where the character seems like a half-developed mess, an afterthought of plot. 

I’m also discussing those that use characterization as a convenience, in order to push the story forward.  While this last point isn’t necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, it can, and often does, lead to underdeveloped shells, instead of well defined, living characters.

Things are much different in Our Idiot Brother.  The main character, Ned, played remarkably by Paul Rudd, is a unique breed of idealized humanity.  He believes in giving another person the benefit of the doubt.  He is genuine when he says that he trusts everyone, as why should they lie.  He’s honest, at times to a fault, extremely loyal to family and friend and will also sacrifice his own needs and wants in order to help someone with whatever their issue might be. 

All the action stems off and moves through this central character.  While there are certainly humorous moments, they’re mostly due to the audience, watching someone act in a completely different context than they’re use to, different than what society has brought us up to expect, or to go a bit deeper, that which society implies as being correct or incorrect manners of living.

Without getting in too deeply, as I really don’t want to spoil anyone’s enjoyment, there are a few things I’d like to discuss.

The first idea is relative to an almost Zen-like state of being.  Ned is perfectly accepting and open, to all experience, and in as such, reacts in a loving and open manner, even when personal wants are refuted, beyond reasons he cares to understand. 

Ned is consistent throughout the film.  He carries an innocence that allows his mind to freely flow throughout each of his experiences, even the negative and painful ones. 

While society doesn’t view his behavior as normal, even cited as having characteristics oft associated with the mentally handicapped, it’s his unwavering of belief and rationalization that make the two the perfect contrast for each other.  You may say he’s naïve, but he will simply recall his belief on the trustworthiness of others and how he sees the good in others, choosing not to see whatever ill that may be. 

He’s a misunderstood yet incredibly fresh character, built in the mold of those living a commune styled existence and of those who take part in a system where experience and freedom, of ideals and passion, is much more valuable than monetary or worldly gains.  It can also be said that Ned truly lives life to love every moment, completely unconcerned as to how others may perceive him to be.

The other point I’d like to bring up revolves around the idea of messiness.  The story builds Ned up, stringently, using our own preconceptions and biases, to appear as this messy vagabond, living off other people, having limited aptitude for common sense and adhering little to the laws of responsibility.  Despite being a genuinely likeable guy, our preconceptions deceive us, into buying into the premise set forth, that Ned is a mess and a disaster, someone that needs constant supervision, else he’ll mess everything up around him.

The story then develops numerous scenarios showing this “irresponsibility” and “messiness” at work.  Whether involved with communication mishaps, treating children as equals, or valuating ethics above advancement, Ned is shown to cause problems wherever he goes, and for whomever he comes in contact with. 

Yet, at closer look, while Ned’s actions do seem to prompt problems forward, they aren’t of his doing.  Ned’s actions merely bring underlying or ignored issues to the surface.  He doesn’t blatantly reveal secrets or raise awareness to potential problems.  He simply trusts people and believes them to be worthy of his trust, especially seeing many of these people are members of his own family.  But through the course of intersection, all these little problems and larger ones surface and then resolve themselves.

At first, each blames Ned for his or her faults and circumstances. They don’t want to see what is clearly evidenced, and through this, it becomes evident that Ned’s not the one that’s lost touch with reality.  In this case it’s actually everyone else that either lives in make-believe or closes their eyes to that which exists in their lives.  Ned’s a means to an end, a mechanism towards clarity, resolution and peace within oneself and within their relationships with others.

After they realize what the true story actually is, you can see each of these other characters begin to shift and change.  It’s through Ned’s “interference” that they are able to grow, becoming more whole in the process.  It’s refreshing to see something other than retread and rehash.  It’s fun to see something contrary to the normal character arced films, where the lead character is often the one that must do things differently, must change in some way or another, as the story moves from beginning to end. Here we get the opposite, the lead stays the same, while impacting each of the other character’s lives around him, in, for the most part, an extremely positive fashion, instilling change and motivation for living their lives differently.

This is a feel good film that is billed as a comedy.  Yet for me, the brilliance in Our Idiot Brother is not the humor, which is definitely there, but the philosophy and alternative viewpoints on ways to live one’s life, opening up ones’ eyes and offering many suggestions and/or possibilities that may be of use to all of us. 

The writers did a wonderful job in building a truly character driven screenplay, where each of the characters are clearly defined, emoting a resonance within the audience.  If others out there are like I am, they’ll leave this film, not only upbeat, but also as if they know, or have met, people like each of these characters, even the character of Ned.

The film also stars Elizabeth Banks, Zooey Deschanel, Rashida Jones, Steve Coogan and Adam Scott, to which credit must be given.  Each of these actors is able to perfectly fill their individual roles, the way they were scripted, none too large of ego, to try and outshine any of the others.

In closing I’d like to say, this may not be a film you had previously considered seeing, but is certainly one I feel you won’t regret if you do.

    

Diarized Poetry (Reposted from my poetry blog)

I posted this over at my poetry blog, Poetical Psyche, and thought my readers here at Sqwerm would find it interesting as well.  

When all is said and done, will this be just another posting, or shall it become the birth of new form?

Diarized Poetics, at its essence, is about connecting the personal to the abstract.  You are constructing sheets for understanding, pages of analysis.  You are the composer, to a never-ending composition, as so long as exhalation and inhalation conspire to inflate/deflate lungs and chest.

The form is intended to be truthful, yet it would be foolish to put a plate of fruit before a lover of fruit, stipulating he/she may feast, but from the sweet flesh of but one.  With this realization in mind, if the author of the composition chooses to fabricate life in the diarized inserts, than he or she would be no different than any life giving composer or creative.  It is in every writer to lie in the same notion that it is standardized fare for each writer to feel, and yes being numb is a form of feeling.  So all this said, let me introduce to you the Poetic form of Diarized Poetics.  I may not utilize form as often as others, yet I’m very schooled in the history of poetry and the richness, variety and nuance of said history.  Over the years I’ve amassed numerous books of reference and the ilk, illustrating and defining poetic shape and form.  While much of each repeats from edition to edition, each is shaped by it’s own interpretive candor, it’s own touch.  All this said, I’ve never found a form like I’ll be describing in a few moments.  I’m not ignorant; therefore it is entirely plausible that a similar form is already in existence.  While this may be the case or it may not be the case, the form itself is what’s up for discussion and exploration. 

My intent is to provide others an outlet by design.  An outlet where their experiences can align with abstract or shaded poetical argument, hopefully offering a much more fulfilling journey than mere journaling or poeticizing alone can do.

Together, in combination, diarized entry alongside poetic interpretation and voice will offer a medium for attraction as well as a sense of contrast, from which we can put it aside, only to revisit at a clearer or later point.  Upon the return my aim, the aspiration, is for this revisiting to unleash answers or roadmaps to those answers.  At the very least I believe this form will provide understanding.   I hope others enjoy the form:

Diarized Poetics

The rules are simple.  There is no one correct alignment or way to work within, outside the overriding premise itself:  Each poetic offering in the diarized style must include a diary, journal, log style of entry, immediately followed by an abstract or expanding short piece of reflective poetry upon that piece of journaling.  An example:

August 3^rd, 2011.         Awoke to the sound of thunder.  Removed the outer edge of my curtains, and then crinkled apart a few folds in the blinds.  Outside I could see a heavy rainfall and a completely darkened sky, which is not exactly strange for 3:00am, but for some reason the sensation within me was met with an exact replica of surprised, even betraying emotions. 

Darkness

Bends and folds

Cursing the naturalistic reservoir

Chastising the foundations of dawn

Unearthing sentiments reserved for swans

Only to bury the duckling, ugly as the pond it’s ever known

Broken shard of lighted ray

Unleashing wrath upon this early day

A seedling

A spawn to be

August 3^rd, 2011.         The rain came down for most of the morning.  The streets were still sopping from the deluge, yet the air is like a blanket of wool, smothering the breath prior to consumption.  The sky had ceased it’s tearing, perhaps for two hours now, yet the dampness was everywhere, the uncomfortable relation to soggy jeans and over-weighted cotton fabric, as they bear additional burden upon the spine, not enough to damage, yet enough to shape impression and momentum of mood.  The spinning of the water could be heard as treads made their way over it’s fluid form, stopping only as the shift is thrust into parked position.  The hand rests for a hesitating moment atop the leathered gear control, for reasons I do not know, nor am I aware of what happened those thirty seconds or so my eyes went void and focus became lost in a trancelike disembodiment, there, at the concrete abutment of the convenience store.  I exited the car, double checking I tapped the automatic locking sensor, fully aware of my sneakers as its rubber descending into and out from puddles, large enough, one might, in that moment, have been able to convince me they were like oceans for the mosquitos swarming to the lighting fixtures at the parking lots perimeter.  I entered the store, waited in line, only to find out the numbers I intended to play were sold out for the day.  I glanced at my watch and realized it was late.  So to extinguish that wasted trip feeling I get in such instances, I made a purchase, any purchase.  Pack of gum, spearmint, and a scratcher.  I did not win.

Conundrum of sound

Elicited by the absence

Yet remnants frame the hours

In it’s fractured apocalyptic scenery

Frozen into where

Bonded to the Why

How

The second entry here was purposely elongated to indicate, again, there is no right or wrong way to conduct a journal or diary entry submitted to your private notebook, therefore there is no right or wrong way to conduct it’s composition here within the poem.  In fact one, if it’s how they traditionally composed their entries could simply write:

8/3/11 Woke. Went to the bathroom.  Showered.  Took pills. Ate a cup of yogurt.  Had a glass of orange juice.  Went to the doctors. Came home

To which the poetical “call-back” would, again, be whatever happens to flow into your mind, whether it be a summary, a feeling, an offshoot, or whatever it may be that fits your poetical fancy.

Also, write the way that comes naturally to you.  It doesn’t have to be grammatically correct, unless of course you spell-check or white out/erase your entries to begin with.  The voice you use should be however it is you choose to use.  Here, I just wrote, much of it came out a bit more like poetic prose than how I sound now, composing this explanation, or how I typically sound when I go back through old journal entries.  But, with that said, it’s what came out and so I left it as is.

Again, your entries do not have to be factual.  They can be whatever you choose them to be.  However, I will say, you’ll gain much more from the form and the purpose of the exercise, by documenting truthful or real experience, thought, reflection & emotion than you will get by using fictional entries.

I’ve done several of these.  They’ve all been truthful to this point.  One day I’ll share them, perhaps.  But I’m not at that point yet.  I’ve gone back to the earliest ones and have found a bit more understanding.  I’m in a place, where I’m sure I’m not alone.  Perhaps that’s the reason I came up with this form in the first place.

I really don’t know, but I thought that it was only proper to share a tool that does truly hold potential, wherein I’m hopeful it will be able to be used by others, to assist with the sorting out and working through all the various intricacies that exist within their own “places, where specialized sets of circumstances are not the rarity but the norm.

Poets.  People.  This form is for anyone that needs it.  Feel free to share to anyone you feel might be in need of such an outlet, or miring in a “place” of their own.

Attitudes of Customers at Discounted Grocery Stores.

Just one of those opinionated afternoons.  

Not sure if everyone has an ALDI in there area.  For those that don't, ALDI is a low priced grocery store.  You can save a lot of money by shopping at these types of stores.  They offer lower prices because they have their own brands.  For instance their wide variety of low fat-low calorie line of products are called Fit & Active, but basically they are the Fiber Ones, Weight Watchers etc.. of the world, repackaged and discounted.  

When I go to ALDI, I go for one or two items.  I happen to like their Cottage Cheese better than the local grocery stores in the area.  It's about .30 cheaper than the name brands, but for whatever reason I like the taste better.  So today, like I typically do each week, I stopped in for Cottage Cheese and Cottage Cheese alone.  But this store, seems to only ever have one checkout lane open.  I can understand that.  The more lanes open, the more employees on hand, which in the long run would equate to an increase in product price.  But what I can't understand is the miserability index being through the roof with the customers that shop here.

I always seem to get stuck behind people that have 100 items, while I have one.  So, as I do each time this occurs, I nicely ask if me and my one item can jump ahead in line, ahead of them and their 100 items. Well, I'd have to say, in this store, and this store only, regardless of store location, the people will say no roughly 75% of the time.  More often than not you also get their miserable life story to go with it.  While I can't agree with their decision to make me or any other person, because it can't just be me that this happens to, wait in line while their carts of food are cashed out, I can at least acknowledge that they have every right to say whatever they want to say.  But what I cannot accept is these people having to share their misery.  I'm an empathetic person by nature, but not when I'm trying to be a single item in a grocery store.

My mother, who most of the time, is my sounding board, tells me just not to ask anymore.  To which I can understand this logic.  I also practiced the leave the item and go buy it elsewhere routine.  But really why should someone have to do  that.  

My suggestion to ALDI.  Train your cashiers, or put up signs of some sort, that state if someone in line, immediately behind you have one or two even three items, than be courteous and let them skip ahead of you, if you have a large purchase to make.  It seems to be a fair solution.  Or perhaps I should just stoop to the level of the, ever too quickly to reveal their agonizing life, customer and retort just as rudely.

But perhaps it shouldn't surprise me that those shopping at discount stores are doing so, for the most part, to save money.  To need to save money usually indicates a level of anxiety in that person's life.  That anxiety can lead to behavioral shifts.  Therefore resulting in the misery they not only possess, but choose to, so eagerly spew onto others, who are probably just as miserable as they are.  Some of us though, would just rather keep their misery a private matter, when it comes to shopping in a grocery store.