ЛикБез # 16

One of my favorite authors and one of the most recognized writers of the 20th century, Kurt Vonnegut, died this past Wednesday.  I'm not sad per se, but I will definetly pick up one of his novels I have sitting around and read it over again, to make sure I capture just a little more of that beautiful humanist humor.

Rest in peace Kurt.

Article about this...

I had a lot of reservations about seeing a film about 9/11, any film about it.  Especially one from Hollywood.  It just doesn't seem like movie material yet - too recent, too close to home.  But yesterday I had a change of heart and went to see this movie.  Central to this was a conversation I had with someone on the subject, Saturday night, which got me thinking about what happenned and my relationship to it.  The realization I had as a result is that I am not staying away from films like "World Trade Center" or "United 93" because I think that my "wounds" from the events have not healed yet and ought not be aggravated...but the opposite.  What I realized is that nearly 5 years have passed, five years in which we no longer deal with the tragedy of 9/11 but rather it's myriad of unfortunate side effects.  The investigations.  The changes at airports.  The government inquiries.  The bickering over the memorial.  The slow release of previously classified information.  And ofcourse the daily carnage across the middle east that is the "War on Terror".  This is our world now, and it is so disturbing and so absorbing in its own right that, I, for one, could no longer relate to the events that brought all of this about on that fateful Tuesday morning 5 years ago.  Which is why I "suddenly" felt like I must go and see this film, to try to remember what occurred, try to relate to it once again.

I more or less agree (as usual) with James Berardinelli's review of the film.  It has the flaws he points out, plus an additional exceptionally strange "Jesus" moment I thought was inappropriate.  But on the cover, I largely agree that Stone dealt with the material as appropriately as he could have - given the sentiments of the survivors, the families and so on.  There is one major caveat, however.  This really is not a film about 9/11 per se.  It is a story of several people that lived through it, and whose perspective on what occurred is vastly different from almost anyone else.  Virtually no viewer will be able to really identify with the main characters - either the ones trapped under the rubble or the ones waiting for them to come home (because we know that they eventually do, which puts these families into a whole different category).
So what we try to identify with is the disaster around the characters, and while that disaster is depicted very well, at the end of the day the film is not about that, it is about these particular characters.  The good thing is, the story of these people is told exceptionall well.  But it's their story and offers merely a glimpse into the wider events that affected us all.
The person I saw this with, talking to whom prompted the entire flashback, was just outside the towers on 9/11 and saw the events of the day with their own eyes.  Even most New Yorkers were not as close to all of this as she was, certainly not me, I was in Buffalo at the time.  So I thought her reaction probably said a lot about the main shortcoming of the movie, and about the difficulty of dealing with this subject in general.  The reaction was that the film was a "fairy-tale."
Even though the story is about 2 real PAPD cops and is based closely on their accounts, it didn't have to be.  It could have been about entirely fictional characters.  The issue at heart it seems is that to most New Yorkers it was a day of their own, personal loss.  Hard as we may have ever tried to empathize with the suffering of the others, there was too much that we lost ourselves, even if that loss was only of an idea.  The idea of safety, for example, may sound somewhat trivial but isn't.  The loss of the feeling of safety from a massive calamity one could not possibly control or prepare for, is a huge, behavior altering loss.
So the catch-22 seems to be this.  I wanted to see this movie because I had felt too numb about the events of that day.  I wanted some way to address the fears, shock and saddness that I felt then - revive it and deal with it.  But it seems that only a film about my particular circumstances could have truly done it.  Watching the stories of other people merely helps you focus on some of the memories you've got - but doesn't really do anything to deal with them.  It is this which makes it seem not real, despite knowing as we do that it was.  And the closer you were (taking a guess here), the bigger this gap is going to be between what you need and what you can get from a story of others going through this experience.  Ultimately, either somebody can craft a story that can address the needs of all those who were hurt that day, or millions of distinct stories must be told, in film or any other way.
Having said that - I think the most important thing is confronting this piece of our past.  Even if our methods like this film are somewhat crude and ineffective, scratching at the surface of the problem is better than ignoring its existance entirely.  The problem being that we don't want to care about such things, but occasionally, we're simply forced to.

So, this is my take on the war, with the article located here being a good part of my background to this.  To login you can use my e-mail and my nickname for the password.

I think we all wish Israel could be made safe by simple means like military force.  I think at this point virtually everybody, including the critics of Israel in Europe and elsewhere would give a LOT for it to be possible for the IDF and IAF to be able to hunt down and crush all of Israel's enemies, bringing this bloodbath to a final end.  I critique Israel's actions, and yet if another 500 or 1000 or even 10,000 Palestinian or Lebanese civillian deaths could end this conflict (along with the descruction of the terrorists), I would cringe and I would curse my lack of convictions about the sanctity of human life, and I would say "kill them, kill them all!"  NOBODY likes Hizbullah or Hamas's military wings, nobody that anyone with a concience gives a hoot about.

But it won't work.  This whole notion is a total fantasy, a bloody, vengeful, hopeless fantasy.  It doesn't matter how many militants are killed or how few or how many civilians die along with them.  Violence is what matters - the violence is simply perpetuating itself and will continue to do so FOREVER until somebody enlightened puts an end to it.  I'm not expecting englightment from the terrorists.  I do hope Israel achieves it, eventually.  Which is why I am not supporting this whole war.

The objectives that IDF and IAF have set for themselves are inherently impossible for them to achieve.  Its not a question of how much force us needed, its about the fact that force is not capable of stopping the rocket and the Quassam fire.  The sooner Israel understands this and begins to truly ponder what might solve the problem, the less people will die, on both sides.  And I am all for that - fewer casualties, espessially Israeli ones.

If you're a friend of Israel, you will not support this pointless bloodbath, but that's my opinion, and I've been wrong before.  Once, I think, in 1984. ;)

Я курил, если память не подводит, с осени 1992 года, мне тогда еще не было 13. Сначала понемногу, просто выё... А летом 94-го уже курил 2 пачки Камел, без фильтров. Как минимум с 18-ти я хотел бросить ето гнусное занятие, но не мог удовлетворить себя никаким из возможных ответов на вопрос, "почему я хочу бросить?"
На этой неделе понял что проблема состоит именно в этой постановке вопроса. А, на кой черт, собственно, я вообше курю? Типа, что мне в этом нравится? Ответ оказался простой. Вчера вечером я отдал пачку Лёщке с Ленкой, просто на память. Огромное спасибо за поддержку: Allen Carr, Лизе, Лёше, Лене и Жене M.

An important stage in my life has come to an end today... As of today, I will no longer consider myself as lacking in taste or style. I will never again settle for the plain, the safe or the simple when it comes to making a choice of clothing,shoes, home decor, art or anything else.
Today my apartment finally started getting painted, will be finished tomorrow. As I stood there and watched my vision become a reality I was so grateful to myself for supporting that little voice in me that's been screaming for an outlet of visual self-expression. My apartment is beautiful now, daring and bold, but also comfortable and subdued. I have finally fallen in love with this place. What's left now is to go and paint over some less tangible blemishes in myself...

My mind, my body and my voice.
My world resigned upon your lap,
you owned me, it was not my choice,
In your dark curls I am entrapped.

What is the meaning of intrigue?
If you devote your being to learning,
Invest your strength, achieve fatigue,
Yet leave your vacant mind still yearning.

If the achievement of the mind
Is to perceive the hearts desire,
With feelings, Reason intertwined -
What defense left from passion's fire?

My mind's exhausted, begging thee,
Let me take shelter in the body...
That warm embrace, so pure and free,
But yours is only for your study.

I lost my way within your maze,
I need your beauty as my conquest,
In your dark nights I seek my days,
But you seek Him, He is your context.

I turn to you, oh cautious voice,
Don't hoard words, let them drop!
And with each word we both rejoiced,
In foreign pastry shops.

The voice, it grew and it developed,
Just like champagne it blew the cork,
And your sweet song had soon enveloped
All who had known you in New York.

Before you go, just one last kiss...
I ask you, must we part?
I know, I know. I'll stay, I'll miss,
The mind - body - voice - and heart.

Не всегда семь бед - один ответ.
Вроде бы и нужные дела,
Только вот не знаю я, зачем
Мне сдалась вся суматоха эта.

-Александр Розенбаум

It seems that every day I come home and frantically run around like a mouse in a maze trying to accomplish if only a few of the multitude of things that I would like to be getting done. Seemingly progress is made on one front or another each day, but it is really just an illusion. One day you run home to do your laundry before the laundry room closes at 10pm, briefly feel like you accomplish something. Next day it is something else, and then before you know it your laundry basket is full yet again. In the intervening time it seems you've hardly accomplished the things you were hoping that getting laundry out of the way, originally, would then allow you to focus on. My life, it seems, has become an endless cycle of laundry days, food shopping, making myself a decent home-cooked meal, going to the gym and an obligatory evening of debauchery. One of these things each evening - repeated each week - ad nauseum.

So this is to be my first journal entry. I am tired of what feels like a continuum of relentless, lonely repetitiveness that has become my life. At the least, if I am going to suffer through it, I'm gonna make you all suffer through it with me! :)

Welcome To My Life!