American Animal is the type of movie that makes you think about what you’ll do tomorrow. I am still thinking about it, and it’s already tomorrows later, so I want to now select “type” of movie, and take it back. American Animal was hilarious. It was scary, and it was truth. It was a comedy. The handpicked realness made me laugh, a lot, and the resistance stressed me out, a little. I’ll let you know, I caught myself in an eyes-peeled hunch, hugging my knees while shielding those genuine and familiar silent laughs with my hand. I don’t even hate being stressed out in movies though, so eff.
American Animal was a feel it in your bones film. The creativity was inspiring, not overwhelming. The acting was sharp, and intriguing. It was heavy, and when dramatized, it was appropriate. Hilarious – in an expansive way, the sociably unfunny, but friendly hilarious.
So what I’ve been thinking… Well we’re all in our own tragically self-absorbed, and imaginatively busy worlds — and because of that, we are abruptly able to decipher the life of loneliness and fear that Jimmy is wrapped up in. But unlike many of us, Jimmy found himself at these thoughts due to a terminal illness, and most of us don’t know how lucky we are.
So after we realized where Jimmy was coming from, you know, the whole room aware that Jimmy’s world is of course literally here with the rest of us, we know his has been diverted. There is no use, and no bottom line to draw for Jimmy that would pull him back into what we know to be normal. That is beautiful; we’ve all been there, from some decent point to another reasonable relation. This gritty determination splashed me in the face.
To Jimmy, there is in fact, no reason, and he means WHAT SO EVER, to fully involve yourself with what is “fair”. He explains this to us with outrage, and through his definition of necessity. That teaches us that living like this, like him, is important. And even if we think he is wrong, that is exactly what might save him.
So what I’ve been thinking… is that this realization is a benefit. We all get bored, and then motivated. We all get lonely and scared, and forget and get excited again — no matter who and how healthy we are. But the way we “make it through,” the way we express our angst and uneasiness about [dealing with this] being someone in this world, is not [usually] in the same eccentric and entertaining ways that Jimmy does. And I liked that.
Sure, it’s beneficial to live on a page in the history book of this entire recorded world. But what’s important is to not read it, not to strive to figure it out by in fact figuring out, you have an imagination. This relentless American Animal tells us we should not be fulfilled with to-do lists and goals. You cannot be ok with making checklists in cubicles, and you cannot be afraid to pity pleasant clock-workers. That doesn’t sound delusional to me.
His peter-pan apprehension comes from complacency. Frustration with those he sees hold no real freedom, those whom are blinded by a societal-induced happiness. Those who hesitate, those whom are too often, satisfied. What’s the answer? People should live assured they’ll die, just like him. Since the rate will not matter in the long run, you can live like a pig, you can live like a king, you can pretend you’re Gwen Stefani and you can tell people you are John Wayne.
You know how they say some people have a way with words? Matt D’Elia has a way with strangeness. He put on a powerfully artistic performance and delivered us a sense of dedication to make us want more. And we do. Well I do, therefore we all must. Anyway, I suggest you see it. Maybe in a spot you’ve never seen a movie before? Perhaps even near a bar so you can sip and roar afterwards. But if not, it will still be fun. Gliekenheimen! That means see you soon.
Vesper: Beautiful. Now, having just met you, I wouldn’t go as far as calling you a cold-hearted bastard…
James: No, of course not.
Vesper: But it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine. You think of women as disposable pleasures, rather than meaningful pursuits. So as charming as you are, Mr. Bond, I will be keeping my eye on our government’s money - and off your perfectly-formed arse.
James: You noticed?
Vesper: Even accountants have imagination. How was your lamb?
I don’t think that men will EVER realize how nice it is to have a woman around the house. But if they do think that they’ve realized how to appreciate what gets done, they probably don’t realize that their gratitude and compassion poured on us when the tea is brewed and the laundry is crisp and clean, isn’t the only time it’s deserved. But then again, this will probably just be filed under our callow and insecure young complaints and we’ll have another graceless night with that gloomy “you do not understand how hard I work during the week” cloud over the bed.
Here’s the thing about being a girlie girl. I think there was a generation before us that felt like they needed to act like men to be taken seriously, like they had to use their sexuality to take control of people. I don’t judge people for that. But I don’t want to take all my clothes off and use myself as an object. It’s part of the machine and I don’t think that necessarily pushes us forward as women. I think you can still be girlie and maintain your power. The fact that you associate being girlie with being non-threatening, that is I mean, I can’t think of more blatant example of playing into exactly the thing that we’re trying to fight against. I can’t be girlie? Why do I need to be defined aesthetically by someone else’s perceptions of what makes me seem like someone who should be taken seriously? I’m going to wear whatever I want to wear, because I’m expressing myself, and I deserve that right. And I like the way that looks. You’re not demeaning yourself by acting girlie. I think the fact that people are associating being girlie with weakness, that needs to be examined. Not me dressing girlie. I don’t think that undermines my power at all.
Enable those little men in your head to crank all alone. They’re doing it anyway, so you might as well learn to understand it. Understand those snap judgments you make and have no idea where they come from. They can be altered, once you do understand, then learn to trust them, and you’ll soon be dancing with them. If you’ve already gotten lost, “them” is you. Get this book and read it. You’ll be reading your own mind.
People are understandably upset after video emerged of what appears to be U.S. Marines urinating on Afghan corpses. If they’re surprised, however, they need to pick up a history book. Soldiers piss on corpses in every war. On both sides. Soldiers rape civilians, as a rule, in every war that has ever taken place since time immemorial. Rape is a weapon of war. Piss, some people are now learning, is a weapon of war. Some fucked-up, disgusting combination of the two, plus shit and dismemberment, is a weapon of war. Bad guys do it. “Good” guys do it. When a country’s government decides to wage war, they are deciding to sanction piss, rape, and the torture and murder of women and children who had the colossally bad fortune to be in the midst of the war. When the U.S. decided to enter into Afghanistan and then Iraq, they (i.e. Congress and the president, and the myriad companies that profit from war) knew this. I’m not singling out the U.S. here; while we’re as good at implementing the more horrific, soul-erasing weapons as anyone, we’re not alone. Does your country have a military? In times of war, they kill people, and sometimes they piss on them.
If it isn’t clear why I’m detailing this, it is because I want to express an old thought: war is the very worst thing there is. And if you command an army, you better the fuck understand, in your probably cowardly, definitely privileged, likely draft-dodging bones, that when you send soldiers out to fight and die, they are going to do some unconscionable, irreversible things. And they are doing it in your name. Because you told them to. And pissing on a corpse is a FUCKING POEM compared to issuing an order for beautiful young people to go and kill other beautiful young people in a land far away, because you, in essence, “felt like it.”
