This Age Of Anxiety

A huge challenge looms ahead of me at work, and I feel like I've been thrown into a churning sea without a life preserver. There is so much to absorb. Some days I feel up to the task, but then I attend a meeting or another branch in the labyrinth is revealed, and I become that ant on the sidewalk you mercifully step over. I'm marching toward my task, but I'm only slightly aware of my size disadvantage and that I am coursing through an enormous world fraught with peril. I am getting it...slowly. It reveals my achilles heel, which is my impatience with myself. I am wired from the thoughts of this, and my effort. Sleep is fitful most nights, even on weekends. Trying not to worry, but this is my superpower. It's gotten me through so much in the past, but it also punishes me.

I was woken again this morning by the heavy equipment across the street from me and just past the row of houses there. Since I've moved here it's been an empty meadow where the rabbits that feed in my yard some nights return to when they are done. It's slated to become lots for eight more mcmansions and it looks like this now:

I feel horrible for the rabbits. They're just trying to survive and raise families, as they've done for countless generations. Now humans, the big bad bully of the world, comes in and stomps all over everything, heedless of our animal friends and of the remorseless damage we inflict upon our mother. We live an unsustainable existence, and we refuse to see what we do. Instead we talk of colonizing Mars, another planet we can chew up and spit out. Fortunately, Mars is inhospitable enough to us that we won't be able to live there. But imagine the hubris of contemplating such a thing. All the lessons contained within this life, and we have yet to learn one of them. It's so simple. Take care of other beings and our home. Not even the constant admonishment toward doing it for the children is enough.

When I was very young, there were empty fields and meadows to run around in and explore. They're disappearing fast. The bees know this too, and suffer the consequences of the many poisons with which we fill our environment. Cancer rates rise, and we offer sympathy and prayers...but we still engage in the behaviors leading to it. To sum it up crudely, we shit where we eat. Copiously. We don't change. Who else will save us from us?

Isabelle's Garden

I've watched this video three times now. It leaves me with questions. Where are her parents? Does she go to school? How did someone so young become so wise beyond her years?

For me, the video gets to the heart of what matters in life. Feeling compassion for others, and acting on it. It's a wonderful reminder of what I should be doing, and what my thoughts should consist of. These days, I'm too prone to think of extraneous stuff. It's good that I'm aware of it, but I still sometimes have trouble sweeping it away.

When I was her age, I was a sugar-addled child running around with no clue about life. The future loomed as some great unknown beast, and I nurtured a burgeoning fear of what that beast might have in store for me. That's important. It was fear, not optimism or confidence. Isabelle appears to live in the midst of poverty, and yet these harsh circumstances do not deter her from thinking about her fellow human beings, and showing her concern in a tangible way. She's truly an inspiration.

Unfortunately, this video wasn't the most popular of the festival. But it should've been.

Nostalgia - Reflections on Mad Men

[Here be spoilers]

"Nostalgia - it's delicate, but potent."

So pronounces Don Draper to the Kodak executives as they await his pitch for their new photo projecting device. What has been labeled offhandedly as "the wheel" becomes "The Carousel" after Don's powerful soliloquy on the subject as outwardly happy images of his family on the screen mask the pain he increasingly feels over the elusiveness of that happiness, much of that pain self-inflicted. And yet, he can't seem to put an end to his self-destructive behavior.

These devils will continue to hound Don throughout the entire series. The show concluded a couple weeks ago with a final season that seemed to lose a step as it drew to its conclusion. I'm not sure if it was the ill-advised, artificial split mandated by AMC that produced this impression, or if the writers really did have some ambivalence about how to bring the best drama on TV to a close. When I spend any time with it in my head, I'm not sure how differently it could've been done. Mad Men was not one to throw drama in your face. When it did come, it crept forward tense and cat-like, revealed in stony expressions and carefully raised voices. It was the language of adults that I remember observing as a child. It was so accurate it was scary, one could say forensic. The show was eerily good at transporting me back to those times, times that I can only visit now in very faded and unreliable memories, or old Polaroids, the edges curled and the colors muted. Everybody smoked, including my mother, who also had the cats eye glasses and the pencil skirts. Betty Draper reminded me of her, with her beautiful, chilly surface and her mercurial moods. She loved you, but it was a formal love, often unexpressed in any obvious fashion. My mother may not have been as buttoned up, but she could be just as inscrutable.

The series starts in 1960, and in the first 5 years or so, it's a peek into the world as it was at America's dizzying peak. Sheer confidence and bluff, the men seem fearless as they drink to excess and party until late in the evening at the office. There's a scene early on where Roger Sterling is drunk and riding on the back of a woman as she crawls on all fours through the deserted hallway. We're transported to the top of the American Mount Olympus, as the gods (white males, of course) sport and swagger in the very heart of this commercial engine, the part of it that gave it an appealing face. The advertisers. Where the American dream was born. You can't help but have some dawning awareness that these are the last of the salad days.

As the sixties progress, we see portents. New York City's shadows grow longer as Roger and Joan are robbed on the street at gunpoint. The conflict in Vietnam and the race riots become a fixture on network news. Sterling Cooper goes through upheaval, the partners fighting for the life of their company against larger competitors. In the later seasons, I begin to recognize the world they depict. I was born in '65, and some of the memories from that time, so buried and difficult to access, began to unlock as I watched the show. Season 6 especially woke up something in me. The closing credits rolled to the accompaniment of a song from that time, and I thought during that season that they had some brilliant choices. Suddenly, I'd be back with my mother in her Ford Maverick, driving somewhere as AM radio played incessantly. Judy Collins' rendering of the Joni Mitchell classic "Both Sides Now". The practically forgotten Friend and Lover with "Reach Out of the Darkness," with its irrepressible chorus.  "I think it's so groovy now, that people are finally gettin' together...". Even as the country was tearing itself apart, a youthful optimism tried to break through and exhort everyone to release the baggage of the older generation and start over. It's an infectious sentiment. When I look at film of those times, the efforts to get past the violence, those optimistic voices, it's almost startling to see. Cynicism and jaded attitudes were just around the corner. Nixon won handily in '68, and with that the older generation had put their foot down. The calcified worldview of conservatism was rising from the ashes, and that breathtakingly creative decade would soon be a wistful, almost mythical interlude.

Don walks away from it all in the end, and after what he's put himself through, how could he not? The pressure to produce was intense, and the self-medication was never-ending--booze, affairs, nicotine, more booze, and just general self-delusion. It's literally a toxic way of life. Betty was diagnosed with cancer in the last season, but I'm sure if they were to keep going, many more would follow with the same diagnosis. Half my family heard those words as well, and it didn't surprise me when they did. I often wonder how I didn't fall prey to it. Betty's daughter Sally is depicted smoking in the presence of her mother. I recall my mother telling me when I was 14 or 15 that if I wanted to smoke, she would buy the cigarettes for me. I was incredulous. Couldn't they see that I hated the habit?  I had nagged my mother to stop for years, to no avail. Like Betty, even after she was diagnosed, she continued to smoke. She and her generation were going to ride those toxic habits, partly a product of such unprecedented affluence, right to the end.


The show ended like so many ventures back then. Nothing adheres forever. People go their separate ways, reinvent themselves, speeding along in their endless search for fulfillment, whether it be superficial, or, less often, something more profound. Don ends up meditating on a beach in California, as their chanting gives way to that famous Coke commercial featuring people of all nationalities singing in unison about giving everyone a Coke . That spot is iconic for many of us Gen Xers. I can remember the first time I saw it. As Don said, it created an itch, and I recall sipping from many an icy Coke bottle on a hot afternoon. I don't drink the stuff anymore. Like Don, I've grown weary of a life based on incessant consumption. I haven't run away, but I've run headlong from so much that I used to partake in. Mad Men, for me, was the Great American Novel for television. Nothing else has reflected my life back to me so precisely and with such diamond-sharp writing.

I hope we do see something like it at some point, but I wouldn't hold my breath.

Finding The Path Again

A stressful winter has caused me to meditate less regularly than normal. Today I tried to break the pattern. I sat and did Manjushri practice. It wasn't easy, and I often wonder if meditation under such circumstances is anywhere near as effective as under ideal conditions. But I've always read that we should persist no matter what the conditions. In many ways, meditation during difficulties can help us progress on the path farther than when times are good.

I'll continue getting back into my previous routine. As temperatures rise and I'm able to move on to the many home repairs and improvements that need to be done, I know it will become easier.

I visited my nursing home resident this morning. He was in the mood to talk, but his conversation was mainly focused on trying to escape the home, and talking of suicide if he couldn't get out. I tried my best to reassure him. When he didn't talk about the negatives, he kept repeating that I made his day. It's been 5 weeks since I saw him last, but I expect to get over there more often now. Maybe my more frequent presence can help him to stop focusing on escape and suicide. I doubt he would or could go through with such a plan, but his mood isn't good if he's thinking about it.

Hot Baths And Herbal Tea

It was blessedly warm for a while today (if you can call 31 F warm) and sunny. Unfortunately, the warmth caused the roof over my sun room to leak. I heard an unfamiliar sound from there when I was in the kitchen this morning, and there was a long wet line on the ceiling that probably parallels a plank, and it was dripping along its length. I hurriedly put down buckets and a towel. Later, I went out and raked that spot on the roof to remove as much of the snow up there as possible. With all we've had in the past couple weeks, it's a considerable amount. An hour or so later, the dripping stopped. My hope is it will remain dry as long as I can keep that part of the roof mainly clear of snow. I'm sure it isn't done snowing yet though.

There was so much snow piled up next to the house from all the roof raking I've been doing that I could stand on top of the pile and touch the gutters.

The weather forecasters are talking breathlessly about how this February will be remembered for many years to come. A friend texted me that the average temp for the month is 13 F. When I checked a few weeks back, we were about 10 inches below normal for snowfall.  Today we're 11.5 inches above normal. There are two more polar waves expected this week. The first tonight, the second on Wednesday night. Just have to get through those two, and then it looks like the weather pattern will stabilize. For much of this month, my therapy has been hot baths and cups of herbal tea. The power of a hot bath to return me to a hopeful and energetic frame of mind cannot be underestimated. It is better than any vitamin or supplement, better than any other stimulant. The promise of at least some normal weather next weekend will be my motivation to soldier on.

Waiting Impatiently For Spring

It truly has been another winter of discontent. Christmas was a decent time, and I was even running outside until just after the holiday. But I was invited to a party for New Year's, and I had vague misgivings about going. I should've listened to them. A few days after the party I came down with the mutant strain of flu that the shot didn't cover. I have been taking the shot for the past seven or eight years, and haven't had the flu until this year. Pretty sure I picked it up from one of the germbags at the party.

That event alone is enough to throw off anyone's life for a while. I'd also bought the wrong filters for my furnace, ones that are very restrictive of air flow, and after a week they were causing the furnace to work too hard. I have one of the newer, high-efficiency units which run more often in an effort to keep the temperature more constant. This also means you go through filters more often. I've since gotten better filters, but the furnace wasn't done with me yet.

Woke up one morning to find the house very cold, and discovered the batteries for the thermostat had gone dead. I replaced them but the furnace wouldn't turn on. Service call was placed. They arrived to find that the heat tape protecting the tubing which siphons the water produced by the furnace (new ones do this) safely away and down the drain had not only failed, but had shorted and become fried. He brought it down and the outer coating of the tape was melted, with sections of the plastic tubing blackened. This was a bit frightening. Last thing I need is a fire in the attic. Once this was cleared up, the thing was operational again.

A couple days later, while home in the evening, I noticed water dripping from the return vent. Great. Another service call is placed. They send a new employee, terribly young. Terrible visions are forming in my mind already. He goes up the ladder and proceeds to put his knee through a board that had been nailed there to cover the hole needed for the old furnace. It came crashing down, along with piles of loose insulation. We got the space covered again in a rudimentary fashion, and he discovers the previous repairman hadn't hooked up the tubing to the pump properly. It had come loose and water was spraying out into the attic space. It wasn't a lot, and there was no damage to the ceiling fortunately, but if I hadn't been home, it could've turned into something worse.

The problem was fixed and since then the heater has performed normally. I think putting it up in the attic was a big mistake though. The problems I've experienced would not have occurred if it were in the utility room, like the old one was. The previous one was 22 years old when I moved in, and in the six years I had it, I never had to make a service call for it. I had maintenance done every two years, and it ran fine. I have maintenance done for this one every year, and still need to call for these emergencies. When winter does end, I'm going to have it moved back down the utility room. Otherwise, it will do nothing for my peace of mind every winter. I'm also going to get insulation and siding done for the house. I have a real suspicion that the walls of this place either contain no insulation, or it's very poor. The place bleeds heat like the walls are the consistency of swiss cheese. I also thought putting it up in the attic would lessen the noise, but I hear it possibly more now than before. It wakes me up at night when it's running a lot, and to ameliorate it I've been running a space heater in the living room. It helps, but I'd rather not have it running all night while I'm sleeping.

If I ever had any love for winter, it's been completely sucked away by this point. Up here where I live, it's a malevolent beast, threatening you with bitterly cold temperatures and days when it seems like the snow won't ever stop. We're in one of those periods right now, and the forecasts say it may not break until later this month. I hope they're wrong. With my plans for the house this spring/summer, my plan is to make next winter and beyond much more livable.

2014 At The Movies

Finished this up a little earlier this year. Most lists are done well before the year ends, which never makes sense to me. Here are the films I liked in 2014. Last year, I wrote that I wanted to see more indies, and I think I accomplished that goal.

To the reviews...

Nebraska

I know, it was technically released in 2013, but we didn’t get it here until after the new year. Shot in elegant black and white by director Alexander Payne (Sideways, The Descendants), this film stars Bruce Dern and Will Forte, as respectively a cantankerous father and his well-meaning

son.  The father suffers under the delusion that he’s won a lottery contest and is determined to travel from Montana to Nebraska to claim the prize. The story is a simple one, but it centers around a family and its secret histories and subtly shaded relationships. The dialogue is pitch perfect and it bears the trademark of Payne’s films with their sly, gentle humor. The sweeping Midwestern vistas that the pair traverse in their journey are rendered even more beautiful in black and white. A thoroughly enjoyable way to spend a couple hours.

X-Men: Days Of Future Past

My favorite superhero film of the year was this one, despite the financial juggernaut that was Guardians Of The Galaxy.  It’s a conceit adapted from an older storyline that took place in the comics back in the ‘80s and cleverly blends the old X-Men cast with the new one that debuted a

few years ago in X-Men: First Class.  It involves Wolverine’s journey back in time to 1973 to attempt to avert a war which forebodes the certain future extermination of all mutants on earth. The time period inspires some retro laughs, and the film introduces another mutant, Quicksilver, who, in the prison break scene, just about steals the entire film. The character was wonderfully cast (Evan Peters), but they’ll be using a different actor in the upcoming Avengers sequel, which was disappointing news, to say the least. Still, the X-Men franchise continues its revival with this strong chapter. It greatly helps me forget the regrettable X-Men: The Last Stand.

We Are The Best!

It’s the early ‘80s in Stockholm and two girls are huge punk music fans, but the rest of the world has moved on to the synth pop that would rule the decade.  They don’t care, and in true punk spirit, they decide to start their own band.  Their skills leave much to be desired, but they learn and recruit a member of the school band for some much-needed chops. It’s a coming of age film with great chemistry between the three leads, despite probably having little acting experience. Their climactic performance in front of a typically antagonistic punk crowd will have you rooting for them despite the odds.

Snowpiercer

Yet another film adapted from a graphic novel, but this one was nicely fleshed out by Korean director Joon-ho Bong.  It joins a growing list of movies that portray a dystopian future, this time where the earth has experienced a climate change experiment gone wrong, and what’s left of the population resides on the eponymous train that constantly speeds around the planet. It’s the class struggle in miniature, as the unfortunates made to endure privations in the back of the train stage a revolt and slowly fight their way to the engine at the front. Along the way we observe how the elite live and enjoy comforts on the backs of the lower class. The allegory is obvious, but the performances by Chris Evans, Tilda Swinton, and Ed Harris as the man behind the curtain of this disturbing setup (a role which was reminiscent of the part he played in The Truman Show) make this a compelling story of survival against hopeless odds.

Boyhood

The real star of Richard Linklater’s magnum opus, shot over the course of 12 years with the same cast, is time. It’s a film that mirrors the lives of most people, with moments that they’ll find very familiar. The difference here is that the cast actually ages 12 years during the film—makeup or prosthetics are unnecessary. The boy at the center of the film, Mason (Ellar Coltrane), endures a couple of drunken stepfathers after his biological father (Ethan Hawke) leaves the family. We see birthdays, family trips, girlfriends, the inevitable voice change, parties, different schools; and we get that same sense when Mason enters a scene that we get when we see a cousin we haven’t seen in a while. We’re reminded that the miracle of growth is happening when we’re not looking. There are no revelatory moments here, really. The effect of this movie is cumulative. At the end, Mason’s mother, played by Patricia Arquette, begins to cry as her son packs to head off to college. When he asks why, all she can muster is, “I just thought there would be more.” It’s probably a common feeling at such a time in life. And yet, the film shows us there is so much more. But as Mason observes right before the credits roll, all we really have is the present moment.

Filth

Another attempt at turning one of edgy Scottish author Irvine Welsh’s novels into a film, and this one succeeds, though it’s not quite as good as Trainspotting. Still, it’s worth it to witness policeman Bruce Robertson’s (James McAvoy) downward spiral as he tangles with losing his family, drug abuse, and a sartorial proclivity that is only revealed near the end. That reveal felt tacked on and unnecessary, but the film is an at times dark and vertiginous ride as Bruce inevitably bottoms out amongst the seedier denizens of Edinburgh.

Under The Skin

Scarlett Johansson brings her brightly lit name to this small film about an alien that takes human form and entices young men in a Scottish city with the promise of sex, only to lure them to some kind of macabre harvesting operation. The details are left unclear, and the staging of the seduction itself is more theatrical than explanatory. After some time in her deception, Johansson starts identifying too much with the quarry, and seeks cover from her fellow aliens who scramble to locate her and put an end to it. Alas, humanity acquits itself very poorly in its behavior toward her crafted gorgeous image, and she finds herself in a place where she once lured others. Though the filmmaker, Jonathan Glazer, wore his main influence plainly on his sleeve, it was a darkly surreal story of otherworldly exploitation.

A Most Wanted Man

One of Philip Seymour Hoffman’s last films, where he plays a German intelligence chief intent on divining the true intentions of a muslim immigrant who arrives to claim his father’s fortune. Besides the mystery, there’s the CIA to deal with, the 800 pound gorilla in any room. It’s based on a John Le Carre novel, so you know this will be a nuanced study of the espionage field, nothing like James Bond territory. Hoffman again wears a part like an old bathrobe, conveying the character’s world-weariness and frustration at the forces working against him. By the end, what looks like a victory turns out to be a charade orchestrated by those he thought were allies.

Jodorowsky’s Dune

A documentary telling the story of the efforts made by director and comic author Alejandro Jodorowsky to bring Frank Herbert’s sci-fi novel to the screen. There’s a brief look at a couple of very avant-garde films that Jodorowsky did in the late 60s-early 70s that established his career. Despite hiring visionary artists to craft the production design of the movie (HR Giger, Moebius, Chris Foss), and producing a huge book showcasing the storyboards and art, none of the studios would bite. Instead, we learn how Hollywood cannibalized the book for ideas that eventually appeared piecemeal in later films, such as Alien and Blade Runner. It’s a fascinating portrait of creativity and how it can get ground up in the corporate gears of Hollywood. Some filmmakers were just too far ahead of their time, to our detriment.

Locke

Tom Hardy proves once again that he can carry a movie virtually by himself (though this time he does have voices on a phone to swap dialogue with), as he did with Bronson back in 2008. He plays a successful construction manager who one evening decides to walk away from his job before the biggest challenge he’s ever faced. Circumstances pull him away that threaten not only his job but also a seemingly happy family life. As he drives south on a busy English motorway, tempers explode, hearts break, and lives are changed irrevocably, all through heated conversations on his car phone. The viewer only sees Locke’s end of these conversations, as he struggles to maintain a calm, controlled surface amid the tragedies. You can’t help wonder what kind of emotional volcano is roiling just under his formerly buttoned down existence.

Fury

I know, yet another World War 2 movie. But this one, directed by David Ayer, who helmed the excellent End Of Watch, seeks to show the grittier side of the American experience in Germany near the end of the war, as Hitler’s remaining troops, reduced to the very young and very old,

fought with bitter tenacity to defend the fatherland. Tanker troops had it especially tough as they were overmatched by German tanks with thicker armor and superior firepower. This film doesn’t spare anyone in the gore department, as the opening scene depicts a new tanker climbing into the driver’s seat, only to have to clean part of the previous driver’s face off the gearbox. Through this film, we get a hard glimpse of the truism that war is hell, and that the “greatest generation”, while saving the world from fascism, sometimes resorted to smaller atrocities of its own. No one escapes war’s corrupting influence completely.

Interstellar

Christopher Nolan borrows liberally from Kubrick and Scott and probably some other sci-fi visionaries to tell his story of humankind’s attempted escape from a decimated earth to another potential home. We get satisfyingly full explications of the science involved, at least by Hollywood standards; McConaughey’s glassy-eyed stare into the abyss, and Nolan’s particular talent for depicting the kinetic beauty of manned vehicles, whether they be his fluidic setpieces with the batmobile/batcycle, or the tense trip into space toward the wormhole which promises a swift shortcut toward our new home. The whole idea about “love” playing a role in their journey felt like an inclusion to appeal to the female audience, though it’s explained more fully at the end. I’m not sure it reached the heights scaled by the earlier efforts it took inspiration from, but it’s great to see a film shoot for loftier, more cerebral heights when so much of the cineplex has been reduced to flat action and insipid comedies.

Foxcatcher

The true story of John E. du Pont and his ill-fated crusade to support and “mentor” the US Wrestling team in the late 80s. I was never a Steve Carell fan until this film. His performance as du Pont is everything you might’ve heard as the pale, unbalanced scion of an iconic American family. Director Bennett Miller drops clues throughout the film of what his upbringing was like, including a very frustrated relationship with his aging mother. The opulent estate that the Schultz brothers, the premiere Olympic wrestlers at the time, end up spending their time on feels less lived in than haunted. The drama builds to a rather offhand moment of violence and resulting tragedy which changes their lives forever. It’s a riveting story of class, family, and the latent volatility that can be unleashed when the heat of competition meets thwarted ambition. A true classic.


Those are the films that made a deep impression on me this past year.  I did see a few others, such as the previously mentioned Guardians, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and John Wick to name a few, and while they weren't awful, they were more of the mindless entertainment species of cinema. Most of those types of movies garner enough attention as it is.

Have a great 2015, both inside the theater, and out!