Thursday, March 29, 2007

Escapism, Poppycock, & Other Stuff

It's been a long time since I've written something and been really excited about it. I mean I've written things I've liked, and there are projects that I've been working on for a while that I was very excited about and still like very much but the excitement has worn off, and then, of course, all the crap I write on the blog here that I never put much effort into (it's all warm up).

This is different. This is something I think could really turn into something.

I think starting new projects is my answer when I get stuck in an old project. I have one series and one long poem that are as yet unfinished. Now I'm starting a new series. Classic escapism. Classic avoidance. (This is why I watch so many movies...more on that later...)**

The long poem entered a couple of months ago . Hellenica. It came fast. Not solid. Needs editing.

But I hit a wall a couple of weeks ago.

Not just a wall about Hellenica, but a wall blocking language in general.

Poems were slow and at best okay. Even writing throwaway poems, here, were difficult. I wrote many that were so bad I simply didn't post them. My brain had walls built all around it. My brain was on a rocketship in outerspace refusing to return to me.

I decided to start refocusing on reading. Seek the advice of others. I think I can actually blame this entirely on case sensitive (which was supposed to help me with hellenica!).

Enter a new series. Tentatively titled Horoscope. I'm four poems in in three days. I was never this excited by Hellenica. And Horoscope seems sustainable.


In the poetry free interim (and, let's face it, all the time just because I love them) I've been watching a lot of movies and reading a lot of blogs. Recently the two worlds collided. I just rented Children of Men (something I had wanted to see in the theater but was prevented). (Note my love of the parenthetical reference). I thought, wow, this is a lot more violent than I expected. And also, wow, this is a lot darker than I expected. And, wow, I just saw Julianne Moore get her head shot off, watched it jerk back, watched the blood splatter. But it was good. I liked the premise a lot, thought the performances were good (particularly Michael Caine. Clive Owen, however much I think he's a doll, always seems to play his characters the same: stoic with a touch of sarcasm, a little grumpy and a little cool) and overall felt involved in the movie. However, blogland seems in a bit of an uproar about it's brilliance and I think that's just a tad overshot. Overall I think the Departed was, in fact, a far better film even if the plot wasn't as blasting a social moral. In Children of Men, at the end, there's a lovely scene where a vicious battle stops b/c they see Kee walking with a crying baby. Everything gets very silent. It was an important scene. I admired this scene, but I was also very irritated by it. I didn't believe it. I also felt like I had been hit over the head with a heavy frying pan with the words "meaning" branded on it. It was a pretty thought, but also naive and heavy-handed.

I still say Pan's Labrynth is the best movie I've seen in about four years. I still need to see Babel and Blood Diamond to make a truly informed decision. And if you can think of anything else I truly must see, feel free to recommend. I am an escapist in need of more escape routes.


will said...

i envy your dedication to movie watching. i don't watch movies really anymore, very often, b/c it feels like a lot of work & i am lazy & usually read instead. sometimes a lame movie comes on tv & i force sarah to watch part of it. recent lame clips have come from rocky iv, police academy, commando, bloodsport, and under siege. i like to explain the plots of these movies b/c they are simple & the motivations are easy to understand.

amber said...

see, and there's the difference. i envy your dedication to reading. i am surprised to have finished case sensitive. i am lazy and my eyes normally tire moments after i look at a page. this morning i tried to read jordan davis' million poems book. i could not focus. couldn't. instead i stared out of the window on the bus, and admired a certain man's pants that were the distinct color of concrete, and wished i knew how to close the damned window because i was very cold.