I originally started this post with the intention of merely sharing another dream from a while back in its extremely raw descriptive form. In the midst of getting it typed out, I got a call from my vet (well, my CATS’ vet, I obviously don’t need a vet for mySELF). It seems one of my cats, LapWhore (named for her tendency towards any new visiting lap and her virtually obscene drooling and “making out” with someone petting her), is dying of Lymphosarcoma cancer which has attacked the left side of her lower jaw. She has one to two months to live according to the vet, at which time, she will ultimately starve to death due to the rate of growth of the tumor and location.
This is LapWhore (aka, Orange Cat):
lapwhorecharacter2005
lapwhoresummer2006
I’ve had pets my whole life but not since being an adult have I had to deal with one dying, let alone had to be the one with the decision as to when she’s had too much and needs to be put to sleep. This is one of the precise points of trouble that Robin Williams’ family faces in the film, “What Dreams May Come” with their family dog. It is the first time that their children lose a pet and it is difficult for them to comprehend. The comprehension isn’t my trouble though. It’s the heartbreak of watching her suffer when she has been such a lively, spirited cat for all 11 years of her life and the loss that will hurt for me. I don’t look forward to this…
I’m no “video editing” pro so if you want to see the scene in “What Dreams May Come” that I’m talking about, start at 4:40 and watch through 6:05:
Anyway…in the nature of having to carry on, this was the dream I initially began posting… Forgive me if I don’t currently care enough to make it a more refined read. Just read it for what it is…
Dream from Night of May 21st, 2008:
The dream begins with my entering some derelict Cathedral of mammoth size but with cheaply done Gothic details — amusement park quality. All black and red.
Inside, it is falling in on itself. There is a space almost the entire size of the cathedral underneath but it has to be reached by ladders and improvised, constructed means (like a pulley, lift system) of lowering down through the cathedral’s collapsed floor to the lower level. The lower level is almost like a previous church that was ransacked and destroyed, buried and the new, black and red cathedral built on top of it.
My parents are visiting and are well dressed, behaving like members of the upper-class. I am taking them around a bizarre hotel that is decorated in bright, bold colors but not over-lit in the least. Rooms, including the lounge and restaurant are deceivingly large inside. Angles are odd and corners are not at right-angles. There was someone else walking along with us as we toured the hotel — a man of small frame but not clearly identified, perhaps the architect.
We leave the hotel in a large, black car and I take them on a nighttime, driving tour to the old cathedral. The cathedral is situated on a side street near Downtown Pensacola, close to where the Civic Center is, near the old cemetery that is there. (Gregory St./Wright St.).
A slight jump in time and events.
I either WAS or was HELPING a glowing “distant” woman who was of some other world or supernatural degree of significance — world altering power. Taking her down the ladder to the lower cathedral where our underground army’s base was — amongst up-turned pews and broken iconography. It had to be something like 3 full stories down, at least. As I am escorting her down, a spirit version of her begins to open out of her back — like a disembodied split-off of a more powerful/purer part of herself — uninhibited by the constraints of flesh. She is our super-weapon in an underground war between armies with various (but lesser) supernatural abilities on both sides of the battle.
I have a VERY sensitive nose. I can smell that someone smoked a cigarette 2 days ago. I can smell when some no-good man has been whoring about. Thankfully, I’m not limited to nosing out only the stink of this world. Pleasant, subtle scents are also at my olfactoral disposal (even if there is a disproportionate amount of good vs. evil odours in the air). Unfortunately, much like the great tales of this and previous millennia, Evil often poses as Good; in this case, in the candle aisle, at the incense shop and at the perfume counter. In other words, this also means I can’t stand strong fragrances/perfumes/colognes. Only if they’re not too powerful can I stand scents in any embodiment. Even then, I typically favor fruity or natural scents.
Understanding that, it shouldn’t be difficult to guess that I do NOT hang out at perfume counters, in “head shops” or even the oh-so-popular candle stores. I did, however, inadvertently stumble upon a candle line that caught my attention called “Modern Alchemy” by the company, D.L. & Co. Just based on their product naming, design and their scent descriptions, I might have to start saving up my pennies to give a couple of their pretty (and pricey wares) a go.
I’m not very trusting — especially with advertising — but even if these candles and fragrances smelled like putrid garbage on a sweltering July day in Atlanta, GA, I’d probably still have to at LEAST get my hands on the “Seven Deadly Sins” collection…just to say I had it. I mean, what if someone one day ponders aloud in your presence: “I wonder…if ‘sloth’ had a smell, what it would smell like?” If you had this candle collection, you would KNOW!! And if you’re like me, you’ll also find it HIGHLY amusing that it is (among other aromas) a “cannabis” (the plant more commonly known for its intoxicating effects) scented candle. To be honest though, I guess my inner nature-girl/hippie always thought the plant’s sharp, citrus smell refreshingly clean — even if I never understood why anyone would enjoy the effect of sounding like a moron and being a worthless sack of flesh as a result of smoking the stuff.
Most of the fragrances and candles by D.L. & Co. are very sophisticated in their scent base and quite crafty in their themes and artistic presentation. Just upon reading the choices of fragrance combination, I would expect most of these candles (even the ones that DON’T include the cannabis flair) to be pretty heady and dense (i.e. burn in a REALLY large room — maybe with some doors and windows open too for good measure) but also very unique. Some of the others sound incredibly fresh and considerably lighter. I’m fairly sure the lighter scents will be more appealing to my hyper-delicate snout but I have to admit that the other, more complicated varieties still sound intriguing.
In the event that you’re interested in scraping YOUR pennies together to check these fragrances out as well, I’ll let you cheat and start with a couple of places I found that actually sell them (since the company doesn’t sell their Signature line or Modern Alchemy line directly from their website it seems).
Modern Alchemy can be found for purchase at these and other sites:
There’s a connection here, believe it or not. I love both — but that’s not the connection. Yoga is a little more new to me than guns. This is a bit of general info about the line of guns that THIS baby comes from. I have one of these (a .22 cal Mark II target pistol by Ruger) that was my (yes, there is meaning here) 22nd birthday present from my father. I’ve been shooting that gun since I was eight years old. It’s sentimental but even better than that, has cheap ammo for LOTS of hole-punching at the range.
The deep sense of peace that the practice of yoga and the practice of target shooting (note: not reducing your stress-producing foes to the role of “target”) can offer is quite similar. Of course, there are plenty of debates around the value and risk issues but we’ll cover that too very briefly later.
For now, let’s focus….on the focus. Ah yes, the FOCUS…. To do either of these activities requires focus. It requires concentration, a quiet mind and steadiness. Even if you’ve never tried your hand at “down dog” or at squeezing off a few headshots (at your target silhouette-guy of course), I’m sure you’ve watched enough TV, movies and internet videos that you have an idea what these activities LOOK like.
Now is the time to activate your imagination if these are hobbies you never have or will dream of trying. Think of threading a needle, of packing wheel bearings, building a PC from scratch, building a piece of furniture, drawing schematics for a piece of machinery or blueprints for a skyscraper. If I haven’t gotten at least CLOSE to something you might be able to identify with, I’m afraid you’ll have to try a little on your own to find your comparative point of concentrated effort. Just roll with me here for now.
With yoga, it’s a PRACTICE of POSES — keywords when talking about yoga. It’s not a competition with the person across from you in class, it’s not about putting your legs behind your head (for whatEVER reason you may feel the need to achieve that feat) unless that’s just “available” to you (another bit of lingo). Yoga is about doing what your body can while pushing it just enough to FEEL a pose but never to the point of pain. Yoga is about getting the alignment of the pose — of your body — RIGHT. Yoga is about getting the alignment right and knowing how it feels when it’s right. Yoga is about focusing on your breath when a pose is difficult and you feel yourself start to quiver because your muscles never knew they could work like that (all while remaining STILL). Yoga is about FOCUSING on your breath and your body and your orientation/relationship to it and the ground below your feet (or head perhaps). The combination of physical activity and meditative movement and stillness offer benefits that are holistic and one of the reasons I personally am so fond of yoga.
Guns…now how exactly do these go with yoga again??? Focus… You clearly aren’t practicing your yoga or target shooting or you’d remember that.
Target shooting can offer a lot of the same mental focus that yoga can offer. You get a slightly more energized version though since yoga is about quieting and shooting about making a bunch of reverberating racket (and putting holes in things of course). You still FEEL the experience since most firearms have at least SOME degree of a “kick” (basic shooting lingo for “recoil”). You sometimes even get the shocking sensation of a hot, ejected shell smacking you in the forearm or face (wear your protective eye and ear-wear, people) as it flies from the recently emptied chamber as well. You may not get sweaty from this activity like with yoga but you’ll likely get a little dirty since gun powder and gun oil do tend to “smudge” a bit. It’s a satisfying bit of grime that washes off easily though — nothing like a little evidence besides your Swiss-cheese target that you’ve accomplished something.
The sense of focus with shooting though really comes from the manufactured silence of plugged or muffled ears offering the strangely internal sound of your own breath. You may not realize it but as you begin to aim, you increase your odds of an on-target shot if you steady your breath. Smooth, even breaths… Wait, didn’t I say something about breath and yoga??? :0 Yes, steadying your breathing can help steady your hands and as you focus on your target and your aim and your steadiness, you are inadvertently generating a stillness within yourself. What’s the point in target shooting if you’re shaking too hard from being enraged or upset and can’t hold your aim still? Pinpointing your concentration on such a centralized task that requires a steady hand focuses the mind away from distractions and the skipping-about that the mind can find itself doing throughout the day, just like yoga quiets the mind. So really, there ARE some very helpful benefits from both if you need some calm in your day.
And who’s to say one trumps the other either… Like I said, I love them both. The more calm, the better these days! Namaste.
Your obligatory and complimentary SUPER-BRIEF comparison of yoga and guns:
Yoga Cons: New Age/Hippie stereotypes, cost of classes (Unless you’re already a trained teacher, I suggest that you attend classes. The REAL effect and benefits of yoga cannot be achieved at home or without an instructor), need for modifications to poses for those of us not born in a “yogi” shaped body, scheduling issues for the average working adult making it difficult to get to classes
Gun Pros: focus, calm, confidence, increased hand-eye coordination and distance judgment, self defense (if needed), being a bad-ass (Please see this clip from Snatch if you are in need of a better understanding of “bad-assery” and are neither faint of heart NOR repulsed by sailor-mouth language + crassly naughty analogies.)
Gun Cons: ugly stigma of abuse, violent industry and application, risk of accidental discharge, children, expensive initial investment, expensive ammunition (depending on the type of firearm), if you DO decide to get a permit to carry — also added cost and trouble of acquiring and renewing permit
Sure, I favor some things that people might consider kind of dark but as it should be coming through bit by bit, I like a touch of fun to my darkness too. That inevitably means that there are some instances of “fun” that I find amusing which contain little to no darkness about them whatsoever.
Even more evident should be my tendency towards the artistic in things that I enjoy. I do love movies and music and other forms of “normal” art but I don’t actually play many video games. I am wound quite tight enough without the added stress of trying to “beat” a game or level or find some boon. I can stand to watch more games than I can play and the better done the game artistically and functionally and intellectually, the more I typically enjoy watching it. That said, there are few games I even enjoy watching enough to consider actually playing for myself. Little Big Planet is one of those VERY rare exceptions.
This is SUCH a fun game, visually, functionally, even regarding its soundtrack and storyline. This game is so textural and logical — but in a fantastic way — that even the greatest hardcore “kill em all” gamer has to stare at it and even play a little (even if he talks smack about the ‘gay’ factor the whole time). The 3D feel of the levels, the way the physics engine allows the “sack person” to swing and bounce and grab things, even the expressions that you can control on your customized little-you are fascinatingly fun.
In playing this game, I thought of two films I love for their alarmingly simple, yet unique art design: The Science of Sleep and Coraline (in 3D specifically). These films convey very much the same surreal and child-like qualities that art used to embody back when art meant clay and construction paper, pipe cleaners and cotton balls. The sophistication of this game and these movies steps in with the approach, stories and consequences of actions in each.
In Little Big Planet, you may be having a blast with your one-eyed, polka-dotted, cross-dressing lion(ess?), but the humor you encounter is definitely adult — as are the goals of the game. The Science of Sleep is about a couple of very eccentric, only mildly mature adults who sort of fall in love through the language of imaginative avant-garde art and music. Coraline is really probably the most kid-friendly of the three of these playful examples of fun art (in motion). Coraline is a bit darker but necessarily so since it DOES have a bit of a moral-of-the-story thing going on (be who you are but appreciate what and who you have — summed up).
I like the unique in the world. These movies and this game definitely qualify for this category so if you’ve got some spare change (and time) lying around, go check any or all of them out if you want your lovely little eyeballs to be dazzled and your mind to be entertained and expanded (if only a little depending on how far out there you already are).
Not that this wondrous woman really NEEDS more positive press but I respect and envy people — especially women of this caliber.
Tara McPhereson. She’s an artist, a woman obviously, a beauty at that, clearly intelligent, has fascinating taste and from a 2nd-hand account (as well as the impression I’ve received from her interviews) a fabulously down-to-earth, just cool as HELL chick. I love her art, even if it’s sometimes a little relentlessly common to its sibling works. She has a very stark, strick style that is at once fun, dark, simple and yet still exquisitely elaborate.
As if her art wasn’t fun enough on its own, this hot artist (in so many ways) has awesome taste in clientele. She has gained a great deal of exposure for her individual works but an even more expansive viewing crowd by being a hot commodity in addition to her hotness… Bands, baby. This chick has done some MEAN band-poster work. I’m lucky enough to have one from 2006 that was gifted to me by way of a close friend of the band Mastodon. She’s done a couple of posters for them (one poster in 2 designs from last year that I specifically want like MAD but have yet to get my hands on). This same individual who gifted me with her 2006 poster recently had a chance to sit down and talk to her and reinforced my initial impression that she was indeed a cool individual and a lovely lady to boot. I have to admit I am still a bit envious of the opportunity. I’m human after all.
As it turns out, Ms. McPherson doesn’t do JUST posters but sculpture, toys (too cute not to check out), fine art and other interesting things as well. A couple of those that she lists in her bio are references to her work that I REALLY should have just remembered off the top of my head because I have both references (unfortunately not the ORIGINAL works)… She was a contributor to Fables: 1001 Nights of Snowfall along with another of my favorite artists, James Jean (*tangent alert* Mr. Jean’s work was also showcased in the recent, film adaptation of the “unmakeable graphic-novel movie,” Watchmen). McPherson’s part in Fables is the illustrated, 14-page sub-story, “Diaspora.” Here is a quick write up on the Fables piece. Her other (likely more recognizable) works can be seen hanging on the bedroom walls of Juno in the film by the same name.
This woman has a very distinct style and in a way that is all her own, she brings fun and sophistication with her art. Not until later do you realize you’re looking at a High On Fireposter or staring at a punch-out of a girl’s candy-cane ribcaged chest — including breasts. She is an artist in the truest sense, being capable of once again making something sinster, cute and sweet. As I’ve said before here, I’m incredibly fond of that effect and by golly, darn it if I’m incredibly fond of Tara McPherson as a result!
So I’m slow at getting through my to-do lists because there are so many and they are all so very long but I have finally gotten around to scratching off a couple of items here and there. Two of those coincide to a degree. Books and movies; in this case I speak specifically of Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez.
I tend to experience things on several planes… Keep that in mind because I feel inclined to expound on as much of my experience with this story in its two forms as much as I can stand to dump out of my head at this time.
Now, although this book is technically labeled as “magical realism,” I find it less than magical by my own favored understanding of the definition of that genre of fiction. I apparently share the same understanding of “magical realism” as the Mexican critic, Luis Leal who explains the usage of it like this: “Writers like García Márquez, who use magical realism, don’t create new worlds, but suggest the magical in our world.” (This quote can be found under “Definition in literature,” here: Magical Realism According to Wikipedia.) My my favorite examples of this sort of magical realism are a trilogy of books by Louis de Bernières (The War of Don Emmanuel’s Nether Parts, SeñorVivo and the Coca Lord, and The Troublesome Offspring of Cardinal Guzman) and a book by Kathryn Davis called The Thin Place. A more expansive definition of magical realism than what these books fit into includes something more akin to surrealism in perception of the world — something more of a HYPER sensitivity to the world around one’s self. This latter understanding is really more of where Love in the Time of Cholera fits for me which although not my favorite strand of the genre, is still quite wonderful. Here is another definition which suggests why this genre began with Latin American literature due to the greater prominence of Catholicism and superstition in Latin culture:
“The marvelous begins to be unmistakably marvelous when it arises from an unexpected alteration of reality (the miracle), from a privileged revelation of reality an unaccustomed insight that is singularly favored by the unexpected richness of reality or an amplification of the scale and categories of reality perceived with particular intensity by virtue of an exaltation of the spirit that leads it to a kind of extreme state. To begin with, the phenomenon of the marvelous presupposes faith.”
I can at least see how the BOOK squeezes its way into this classification with its vaguely exaggerated Latin landscapes and people. It definitely comes through more eloquently in its original book form than the movie tries for where instead, the impression of exaggeration ultimately comes off as tacky and silly when transported to the screen. Granted, badly done aging effects in some of the cases do not do this film any favors in keeping you with a straight face, I still have to give props to the aged, sagging breasts of the older Fermina in stark comparison to her pert, younger counterparts from earlier in the film. I was pleasantly surprised at how well they pulled that off without softening the embarrassing blow of falling from graceful beauty with age (even if Javier Bardem and Benjamin Bratt were spared the unsightly humiliation of being visually aged beyond their still quite handsome faces). Then again, they possibly could have saved a little bit of face had they scratched John Leguizamo from the cast list. Even if I do like him somewhat, he is far too goofy to be playing the part of such a ruthless ruffian as Don Lorenzo Daza. He brought the wrong kind of “magical realism” to this story unfortunately.
I have to say though, if the essence of even Carpentier’s magical realism from the book is all but brutalized in general on the screen, I still feel like Florentino was executed expertly. That very well may be more to the credit of Bardem’s outstanding acting than screenwriting or directing. Florentino’s nearly laughable obsession with his love for Fermina and the equally laughable way of killing the “pain” of his love for her is probably the best characterized example of the magical realism conveyed across both book and film.
Love is a bitter pill, no matter what the era or geography. Love in the Time of Cholera is a wonderful reminder of that. Human emotion is a complicated, fascinating and often infuriating element of what attaches us to this world. It is the essence of the adjective really. It pulls together the intangible into something we can identify — that we can love, hate and everything in between. That is precisely why LOVE is what makes this novel still magically real I think and why Florentino is the backbone of the fantastic characteristic of this book — not the scenery, not the shenanigans that occur, not the mules that Lorenzo owns; it is Florentino’s practically ridiculous love.
Florentino’s obsessive love for Fermina really is ridiculous. It is outrageous to everyone he meets in his life and to consider someone realistically building his entire life around the belief that he was put on this Earth with the sole purpose to love one specific girl that he met as a teenager is asinine at best. This story would have been just as absurd 100 years ago as it is today if carried over into reality. But for the care of García Márquez in his utilization of reality’s rules and content by going to the trouble to MAKE the impossible seem quite possible indeed, this story would still be equally absurd even as fiction. Amazingly, he manages to create believeability as the story unfurls, manufacturing the magically real. This is why he is so heavily referenced as a master of this craft called Magical Realism and all of its delicate intracies.
