My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

Creation is beautiful, and tedious. Lonely, and exciting.

I wonder if I’ll ever write my novella, my memoirs, something to be remembered.

I wonder if I’ll find my love, my muse, the death of my lonely.

I wonder if I’ll find my calm, my safe, the end of my nervous.

I wonder if I’ll die the way I think I may, slow and blue and quiet-like.

I wonder, and I wonder, then I wonder a little more.

I just finished a spectacular little book of poetry and prose, Apocrypha by Catherynne M. Valente.

Her writing is so disturbingly beautiful, telling of the sorrows of fairy tale witches, struggles between wicked stepmother and daughter, tragic heroes and even the birth of language itself. Apocrypha is just another example of Valente’s brilliant ability to paint gorgeously surreal pictures with the written word.

So, here are some pictures of my 28th birthday…

Me and The Senator at Czar

Me and the delightful Sarah at Czar

Me, Blue Boy and Tink at The Castle

So, I turned 28 last night, and I’ll be honest, I haven’t been at all happy. I planned to spend last night in a bad way, thinking about the year before, thinking about the potential joys of slitting my wrists, vertically, of course. However, a friend, a really delightful friend, insisted that we go dancing, so I obliged.  I figured doing the exact opposite of what I felt like doing was probably best.

So, we rang in the New Year at Czar, a fairly tame quasi-emo/goth club, but at around 1:30 AM we went to this ultra emo/goth club, The Castle.  I had to get carried up two steep flights of stairs to get to the dance lounge, but oh my Christ was it worth it.  When I die, wherever I end up, I want it to be like The Castle.  The place is every beautiful emo/goth cliche.  Between the smoke machines and the cigarette smoke, every individual beam of light was visible in the air.  Music so loud you could feel it in your chest.

Tampa has its share of “club characters,” one of whom is a fellow who likes to dress-up as Peter Pan, or Blue Boy. Last night, I finally met him, we danced to Dragula. After Pan, this totally drunk chick (who couldn’t dance) kept dancing with me, which completely pissed off her boyfriend.  He kept saying I wasn’t real.  He was especially unhappy when she lifted her skirt for me, which I also found a little untoward.  It’s interesting how something like that can either be spectacular, or spectacularly creepy, depending on the woman.

The evening kind of reminded me that I’m still me, I can still do all the crazy things I absolutely love doing. It’s really hard to remember that sometimes, but last night helped.

I don’t understand why the “film” Dungeons & Dragons got made, nor do I understand why Jeremy Irons was in it, nor do I understand why I watched the end in HD.

“I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it. You know, I just… do things.” – The Joker

Let’s say you made a movie that looked kind of like Sin City, but more colorful, yet not nearly as beautiful. You gave the movie a boring story with generally boring characters. If you did those things, you followed the same path as the people who wasted film on The Spirit.

So, Doubt is definitely the flat-out best theatrical film I’ve seen all year. I was really excited over the trailer, but the actual film blew me away.

Based on a stage play of the same name, Doubt takes place in 1964 and is the story of a rather brutal Catholic nun, Sister Aloysius, and the very personable Father Flynn. Sister Aloysius is the principal at a Bronx Catholic school, a school which she runs with an iron-fist. Every single student palpably fears her, and her sister nuns are equally obedient toward her rules. Father Flynn, however, is a rather progressive priest and school teacher. He believes in a warmer, friendlier Catholic Church. Sister Aloysius doesn’t like this one bit, she doesn’t trust his methods, or his motives. So, when she discovers Father Flynn taking a private interest in a young boy, the school’s first and only black student, she immediately decides that the relationship is abusive and cause for Father Flynn’s removal. The crux of the situation is that she has absolutely no proof beyond her personal certainty and the circumstantial, while he ultimately has no proof to refute her.

The film’s such a fascinating examination of faith and the lengths that one will go to in order to protect and justify said faith. It’s also a spectacular metaphor for the fact that life doesn’t always have clear-cut answers, nothing is black or white, but rather endless shades of gray. It makes us look into the idea that morality is a very relative thing.

Meryl Streep is absolutely brilliant as Sister Aloysius, she literally made me tear up, as she delivered her dialogue so perfectly. Phillip Seymour Hoffman is also outstanding as Father Flynn. I could easily see the film again right now.

So, now that I can read real books again, I’ve started Apocrypha by Catherynne M. Valente. It’s a book of poetry and prose, excellent stuff so far.

Valente’s such an artist with the written word, she writes sentences that are simply beautiful no matter the context. Her first novel, The Labyrinth, is honestly one of the most bizarre and gorgeous things I’ve ever read, so I’m pretty sure Apocrypha won’t disappoint. I’m also totally excited about her upcoming novel, Palimpsest, the excerpts I’ve read are spectacular.