Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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Back on the horses

By now you've figured out that my Fourth of July post isn't up. It will be eventually. I doubt anyone cares. The reason that it's not up is because I committed to making an effort towards living, not just sitting around contemplating life, and thus I was forced to go to Bryant Park to watch All The President's Men with a friend. It was a decent time, I read some more Schnitzler, lay in the shade on a blanket, and did a little people watching. It was more laid back than I've been in some time. There were some amusing moments, chief among them was when what I thought was a little brother older sister combo on a nearby blanket turned out to be a couple of lesbians. The moment when the one I thought was the little brother rolled on to the sister and kissed her passionately on the lips was a bit of a "Uhhhhhh" moment. Probably the most interesting part of the afternoon/evening/night (I left my home at about 4:45 and arrived back at 12:30) was when my friend's father showed up. I'd heard a good deal about him, and apparently we'd met before, but I didn't remember him at all. He was a short man, with a build that made him look like his DNA had wanted to make him a midget and then decided against it at the last moment, so he had a bit of the thick stockyness one associates with little people, but not enough that you would notice it if you glanced him in a crowd. He sat down on the blanket we were reclining on and neurotically informed us that he'd only be there for a few minutes. You could tell that he felt that he was intruding, but neither of us minded. I am incapable of begrudging someone some time with their father, especially on a sunny summer day in a park. My friend's in his early 20's, and he wants to go to grad school god knows where. Who can tell how many more of those kinds of memories there4 are left for them to make. I probably only have a dozen strong memories of mine, and I know for damn sure that I wish now I'd spent fewer hours out with my friends or in front of the Nintendo, and a lot more time with my dad. It's cliche to say that you don't know how much time you have with your family, but cliches aren't cliches because they are wrong. Death lurks around every corner and in every nook and cranny of this world. My cousin was recently within a block of an explosion caused by a faulty underground electricity router. It blew a parked (and empty) car in half. Frozen waste drops from an airplane and crushes a farmer in his field. People are prone to saying "life is what happens when you're plans go awry" but death is what happens when you're looking the other way.

Anyway, the father was an interesting fellow. He reminded me a lot of me, with off the cuff lectures, introspective running commentary, biting self-criticism (he called himself a mean, vicious, person. While he was definitely neurotic and pushy, I sincerely doubt he's actually mean-spirited, especially given the disposition of his son.) It was an interesting experience, and he had some interesting claims to make. He told me that I was being foolish by not holding my tongue on the Dachau and Anne Frank jokes, because I'd develop a reputation for being offensive (ship has sailed) and might inspire a backlash from those I offend (been there, done that.) I didn't tell him that I am trying to make a life out of being creative, though, and perhaps that would have changed his mind. Self-editing is essential for a writer-person, but self-censorship is not. Nietzsche was profoundly full of shit, but he managed to have an impact by saying what he believed, and sneaking important tidbits like "God is dead, we have killed him" in among the piles of crap about supermen and such (he had the good sense to put that in the mouth of a character, but it didn't matter for the controversy it brings). I regret the things I don't say more than those I do. He also had extremely strong views on movies and books, challenging me all over the place. That's fine, though. He's not only a generation older than me, but he's the father of someone I've known since adolescence. They automatically get to pull the seniority card. The way I see it, after you become an adult, other adults have to treat you as such even if they are significantly older, but people who knew you as a youth get grandfathered in, so to speak.


As for the movie, All the President's Men, it was mediocre. It's not that there were glaring flaws, except the sudden and undramatic ending, but there were no real strengths either. Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford were fine, but it's not like their performances were spectacular in any way. There were all kinds of loose ends throughout the film, and very little in the way of intense or interesting drama. It was a nice movie to sit on a blanket and watch in a park with a friend, making MST3000 style jokes and discretely checking out the women, but that's about it. Is it worth 2 and a half hours of your life? I guess it depends how old you are and what your other options are. Not much more to say, to tell the truth I was never fully focused on the film.

I rarely post quizzes in my journal, but I have in this case for one important reason:


Your LJ Soap Opera
LJ Username
Your spouse: lordofthelies
They'll have an affair with: rdg
You'll have a retaliatory affair with: ed_gashlycrumb
Your rival: temujin9
Who will try to kill you? _simeon
Chance you'll survive till the end: - 100%
This quiz by sarcastro - Taken 31968 Times.
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New - How do you get a guy to like you?



If you'll note my marriage partner, you'll see that it is my currently dormant fiction journal. That could either be read as the encouraging idea that I should wed myself to my creativity for the sake of my future, or it could imply that once again another party has determined that I'm not really cut out for relationships with other people, and should be contained in my own orbit. I think I'll choose to read it both ways. Of course it's entirely arbitrary, but these sorts of things make me chuckle. I enjoy being recognized for my lack of romantic prowess.
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