BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Yes, I’m at my desk, alone,
I can’t look in my mirror , instead I look
In books and at my computer,
I was warned. But I am not surprised,
Even though I knew, I didn’t act and my
Strength disappeared, slowly, I didn’t notice,
What dreams I had.
I thought there was always time.
July 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Musings, notes,
I don't know whether to write truth or fiction, but then I never know what my life is. mek
"It was, It will never be again. Remember." Paul Auster
Why is it that there are so many great trailers, but so few good movies? mek
"It is not what is criminal that is hardest to acknowledge; but rather what is ridiculous or shameful." Jean Jacques Rousseau
Understand, do not deny, that from the beginning we live in a state of perpetual decay. mek
"Art cannot exist without surprize or without change." Jean Renoir
Cutting work back is fine. But don't stop working until someone measures you for the six sided box. mek
Two skeletons on a tin roof during a windstorm. (of a piece of modern music by an unknown critic.)
Musings, notes,
I don't know whether to write truth or fiction, but then I never know what my life is. mek
"It was, It will never be again. Remember." Paul Auster
Why is it that there are so many great trailers, but so few good movies? mek
"It is not what is criminal that is hardest to acknowledge; but rather what is ridiculous or shameful." Jean Jacques Rousseau
Understand, do not deny, that from the beginning we live in a state of perpetual decay. mek
"Art cannot exist without surprize or without change." Jean Renoir
Cutting work back is fine. But don't stop working until someone measures you for the six sided box. mek
Two skeletons on a tin roof during a windstorm. (of a piece of modern music by an unknown critic.)
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Synecdoche, New York, Screenplay – Charlie Kaufman.
"There are almost thirteen billion people in the world and not one is an extra. They are all leads in their own stories. And they must be given their due.
I woke up and found my life. She helped me find my after I lost it.
The end is built into the beginning.
-
Everything is more complicated than you think. We see only 10% of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every decision we make. And you destroy your life every time you choose and maybe you won’t even know it for twenty years. And you may never trace that decision to its source. You only get the one chance to play it out.
And they say that there is no fate—but there is: it’s what we create. Even though the world goes on for eons and eons we are here for only a fraction of a second. Most of our time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while we’re alive we wait in vain wasting years for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right.
But it never comes or it seems to but doesn’t really so we spend our time in vague regret or vague hope that something good will come along. Something that will make us feel connected, make us feel whole, make us feel loved.
-
What was before us, our exciting mysterious future is now behind you. Understood, disappointing. We realize we are not special; we have struggled into existence and now are stepping silently outward. This is everyone’s experience, every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone is everyone.
-
As the people who adore you stop adoring you—as they die,as they move on, as you shed them, as you shed your beauty, your youth, as the world forgets you, as you recognize your transience, you begin to lose your characteristics one by one, as you learn that there is no one watching you, and there never was, you think only about driving, not coming from any place, not arriving any place, just driving, counting off time, now you are here, it’s 7:43, now you are here, it’s 7:44, now you are---gone.
-
Where is everyone?
– Mostly dead—some have left—
(paraphrase) I’m tired,…and lonely...everyone’s dreams.. in all those lives, all those thoughts, we’ll never know, that’s the truth of it.
I love you
I love you too.
I know how to do this play now…I have an idea.
Synecdoche, New York, Screenplay – Charlie Kaufman.
"There are almost thirteen billion people in the world and not one is an extra. They are all leads in their own stories. And they must be given their due.
I woke up and found my life. She helped me find my after I lost it.
The end is built into the beginning.
-
Everything is more complicated than you think. We see only 10% of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every decision we make. And you destroy your life every time you choose and maybe you won’t even know it for twenty years. And you may never trace that decision to its source. You only get the one chance to play it out.
And they say that there is no fate—but there is: it’s what we create. Even though the world goes on for eons and eons we are here for only a fraction of a second. Most of our time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while we’re alive we wait in vain wasting years for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right.
But it never comes or it seems to but doesn’t really so we spend our time in vague regret or vague hope that something good will come along. Something that will make us feel connected, make us feel whole, make us feel loved.
-
What was before us, our exciting mysterious future is now behind you. Understood, disappointing. We realize we are not special; we have struggled into existence and now are stepping silently outward. This is everyone’s experience, every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone is everyone.
-
As the people who adore you stop adoring you—as they die,as they move on, as you shed them, as you shed your beauty, your youth, as the world forgets you, as you recognize your transience, you begin to lose your characteristics one by one, as you learn that there is no one watching you, and there never was, you think only about driving, not coming from any place, not arriving any place, just driving, counting off time, now you are here, it’s 7:43, now you are here, it’s 7:44, now you are---gone.
-
Where is everyone?
– Mostly dead—some have left—
(paraphrase) I’m tired,…and lonely...everyone’s dreams.. in all those lives, all those thoughts, we’ll never know, that’s the truth of it.
I love you
I love you too.
I know how to do this play now…I have an idea.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Word of the Day for Thursday, August 28, 2008
chthonic \THONE-ik\, adjective:
Dwelling in or under the earth; also, pertaining to the underworld
"Driven by dæmonic, chthonic Powers."
-- T.S. Eliot
"The chthonic divinity was essentially a god of the regions under the earth; at first of the dark home of the seed, later on of the still darker home of the dead."
-- C. F. Keary
"The chthonic imagery of Norine's apartment, which..was black as a coalhole and heated by the furnace of the hostess' unslaked desires."
-- M. McCarthy
"Two great and contrasted forms of ritual: the Olympian and the Chthonic, the one a ritual of cheerful character, the other a ritual of gloom, and fostering superstition."
Chthonic comes from khthón, the Greek word for earth.
Dictionary.com Entry and Pronunciation for chthonic
Word of the Day for Thursday, August 28, 2008
chthonic \THONE-ik\, adjective:
Dwelling in or under the earth; also, pertaining to the underworld
"Driven by dæmonic, chthonic Powers."
-- T.S. Eliot
"The chthonic divinity was essentially a god of the regions under the earth; at first of the dark home of the seed, later on of the still darker home of the dead."
-- C. F. Keary
"The chthonic imagery of Norine's apartment, which..was black as a coalhole and heated by the furnace of the hostess' unslaked desires."
-- M. McCarthy
"Two great and contrasted forms of ritual: the Olympian and the Chthonic, the one a ritual of cheerful character, the other a ritual of gloom, and fostering superstition."
Chthonic comes from khthón, the Greek word for earth.
Dictionary.com Entry and Pronunciation for chthonic
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
The forest is a solemn place of wonder and discovery. It is there that most often that the cosmos comes to fill the soul. This is a time when all is shed and room is made for universal commonality and centrality.
You are a part of all and all is a part of you. You can feel it most among the trees.
m
The forest is a solemn place of wonder and discovery. It is there that most often that the cosmos comes to fill the soul. This is a time when all is shed and room is made for universal commonality and centrality.
You are a part of all and all is a part of you. You can feel it most among the trees.
m
Monday, July 06, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Is there a distinction between what is real and what is apparently real? This goes to my Picasso story about the "print" in his hostess' bathroom, that he identifies as being an original. His hostess immediately takes the print from the bathroom and replaces another painting from its honored place above the mantelpiece in her living room with the newly discovered Picasso original.
"But why?" asks Picasso, isn't it the same work that was previously delegated to the bathroom?
Is there a distinction between what is real and what is apparently real?
+++++++++++++++++++++
"Three Indian climbers were trapped high on the Northeast Ridge (of Everest) on May 10, and early the next morning a Japanese party intent on the summit walked past them, though they were still alive. By the time the Japanese descended, one of the climbers was dead, another missing, a third barely alive and tangled in his rope. They removed the rope from the survivor but made no effort to help him down the mountain. He too would die. 'Above eight thousand meters,' one of the Japanese climbers offered by way of self-justification, 'is not a place where people can afford morality.' "
"Fallen Giants, A History of Himalayan Mountaineering from the Age of Empire to the Age of Extremes" Maurice Isserman & Stewart Weaver
Is there a distinction between what is real and what is apparently real? This goes to my Picasso story about the "print" in his hostess' bathroom, that he identifies as being an original. His hostess immediately takes the print from the bathroom and replaces another painting from its honored place above the mantelpiece in her living room with the newly discovered Picasso original.
"But why?" asks Picasso, isn't it the same work that was previously delegated to the bathroom?
Is there a distinction between what is real and what is apparently real?
+++++++++++++++++++++
"Three Indian climbers were trapped high on the Northeast Ridge (of Everest) on May 10, and early the next morning a Japanese party intent on the summit walked past them, though they were still alive. By the time the Japanese descended, one of the climbers was dead, another missing, a third barely alive and tangled in his rope. They removed the rope from the survivor but made no effort to help him down the mountain. He too would die. 'Above eight thousand meters,' one of the Japanese climbers offered by way of self-justification, 'is not a place where people can afford morality.' "
"Fallen Giants, A History of Himalayan Mountaineering from the Age of Empire to the Age of Extremes" Maurice Isserman & Stewart Weaver
Sunday, July 05, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Monkeys:
Put eight monkeys in a room. In the middle of the room is a ladder,
leading to a bunch of bananas hanging from a hook. Each time a monkey tries to climb the ladder, all the monkeys are sprayed with ice water, which makes them miserable.
Soon enough, whenever a monkey attempts to climb the ladder, all of the other
monkeys, not wanting to be sprayed, set upon him and beat him up. Soon, none of the eight monkeys ever attempts to climb the ladder.
One of the original monkeys is then removed, and a new monkey is put
in the room. Seeing the bananas and the ladder, he wonders why none of the other monkeys are doing the obvious. But undaunted, he immediately begins to climb the
ladder. All the other monkeys fall upon him and beat him silly. He has no idea why.
However, he no longer attempts to climb the ladder.
A second original monkey is removed and replaced. The newcomer again attempts to
climb the ladder, but all the other monkeys hammer the @%!*# out of him. This includes the previous new monkey, who, grateful that he's not on the receiving
end this time, participates in the beating because all the other monkeys are doing
it.
However, he has no idea why he's attacking the new monkey.
One by one, all the original monkeys are replaced. Eight new monkeys are now in the
room. None of them have ever been sprayed by ice water. None of them attempt to
climb the ladder. All of them will enthusiastically beat up any new monkey who tries, without having any idea why.
Monkeys:
Put eight monkeys in a room. In the middle of the room is a ladder,
leading to a bunch of bananas hanging from a hook. Each time a monkey tries to climb the ladder, all the monkeys are sprayed with ice water, which makes them miserable.
Soon enough, whenever a monkey attempts to climb the ladder, all of the other
monkeys, not wanting to be sprayed, set upon him and beat him up. Soon, none of the eight monkeys ever attempts to climb the ladder.
One of the original monkeys is then removed, and a new monkey is put
in the room. Seeing the bananas and the ladder, he wonders why none of the other monkeys are doing the obvious. But undaunted, he immediately begins to climb the
ladder. All the other monkeys fall upon him and beat him silly. He has no idea why.
However, he no longer attempts to climb the ladder.
A second original monkey is removed and replaced. The newcomer again attempts to
climb the ladder, but all the other monkeys hammer the @%!*# out of him. This includes the previous new monkey, who, grateful that he's not on the receiving
end this time, participates in the beating because all the other monkeys are doing
it.
However, he has no idea why he's attacking the new monkey.
One by one, all the original monkeys are replaced. Eight new monkeys are now in the
room. None of them have ever been sprayed by ice water. None of them attempt to
climb the ladder. All of them will enthusiastically beat up any new monkey who tries, without having any idea why.
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
From "Public Enemy" -- 2009
Some folks are for 'come from,'
Others are for 'going to.'
Johnny Depp (John Dillinger)
BUT
From "Out of the Past' -- 1947
Robert Mitchum (Jeff) and Jane Greer (Kathy) have this dialog:
Jeff: What's your name?
Kathy: Kathy.
Jeff:I like that name.
Kathy: But do you know where I come from?
Jeff: Baby, I don't care. I'm thinking about where we're going.
From "Public Enemy" -- 2009
Some folks are for 'come from,'
Others are for 'going to.'
Johnny Depp (John Dillinger)
BUT
From "Out of the Past' -- 1947
Robert Mitchum (Jeff) and Jane Greer (Kathy) have this dialog:
Jeff: What's your name?
Kathy: Kathy.
Jeff:I like that name.
Kathy: But do you know where I come from?
Jeff: Baby, I don't care. I'm thinking about where we're going.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
watched The Burmese Harp tonight.
High in the castle in springtime
At a flower viewing banquet
The sake goblet makes the rounds
Casting its shadow against the walls.
through boughs of ancient pine
Moonlight shines
where has it gone
the light of days long past...
-------------------------------------------
There is no end to words of farewell.
watched The Burmese Harp tonight.
High in the castle in springtime
At a flower viewing banquet
The sake goblet makes the rounds
Casting its shadow against the walls.
through boughs of ancient pine
Moonlight shines
where has it gone
the light of days long past...
-------------------------------------------
There is no end to words of farewell.
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Another from Cavafy:
The Windows
In these shadowed rooms, in which I pass
gloomy days, up and down I pace
that I might find the windows. ---For a window
to be open would be a consolation.---
But there are no windows, or I can't
find them. And perhaps it's best I don't.
Perhaps the light will be a new oppression.
Who knows what new things it will show.
Translator: Daniel Mendelsohn
Another from Cavafy:
The Windows
In these shadowed rooms, in which I pass
gloomy days, up and down I pace
that I might find the windows. ---For a window
to be open would be a consolation.---
But there are no windows, or I can't
find them. And perhaps it's best I don't.
Perhaps the light will be a new oppression.
Who knows what new things it will show.
Translator: Daniel Mendelsohn
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Notes from Bergman, "Through a Glass Darkly"
certainty unmasked.
One draws a magic circle around one's self to keep everything out that doesn't fit ones secret games..secret garden...
Each time that life breaks through the circle the games become puny and ridiculous so one draws a new circle and creates new defenses.
I'm scared Papa--anything can happen. Reality burst open and I tumbled out. It's like in a dream.Anything can happen.Anything.
" I know."
I can't live in this new world.
"Yes, you can. But you must have something to hold onto."
What would that be? A God? Give me some proof of god. You can't.
"Yes I can. But you have to listen carefully."
Yes, I need to listen.
"I can give you only a hint of my own hope. It's knowing that love exists for real in the human world."
A special kind of love, I suppose?
"All kinds. the highest and the lowest, the most absurd and the most sublime.All kinds of love..
The longing for love?
"Longing and denial. Trust and distrust."
So Love is the proof?
"I don't know if love is the proof of God's existence, or if love is God himself."
For you, love and God is the same.
"That thought helps me in my emptiness and in my dirty despair."
Tell me more, Papa.
"Suddenly the emptiness turns into abundance and despair into life. It's like a reprieve, my son, from a death sentence."
Papa, if it's as you say, then Karen is surrounded by God, since we love her.
"Yes."
Can that help her?
"I believe so." Papa leaves the room.
Papa spoke to to me...
Notes from Bergman, "Through a Glass Darkly"
certainty unmasked.
One draws a magic circle around one's self to keep everything out that doesn't fit ones secret games..secret garden...
Each time that life breaks through the circle the games become puny and ridiculous so one draws a new circle and creates new defenses.
I'm scared Papa--anything can happen. Reality burst open and I tumbled out. It's like in a dream.Anything can happen.Anything.
" I know."
I can't live in this new world.
"Yes, you can. But you must have something to hold onto."
What would that be? A God? Give me some proof of god. You can't.
"Yes I can. But you have to listen carefully."
Yes, I need to listen.
"I can give you only a hint of my own hope. It's knowing that love exists for real in the human world."
A special kind of love, I suppose?
"All kinds. the highest and the lowest, the most absurd and the most sublime.All kinds of love..
The longing for love?
"Longing and denial. Trust and distrust."
So Love is the proof?
"I don't know if love is the proof of God's existence, or if love is God himself."
For you, love and God is the same.
"That thought helps me in my emptiness and in my dirty despair."
Tell me more, Papa.
"Suddenly the emptiness turns into abundance and despair into life. It's like a reprieve, my son, from a death sentence."
Papa, if it's as you say, then Karen is surrounded by God, since we love her.
"Yes."
Can that help her?
"I believe so." Papa leaves the room.
Papa spoke to to me...
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