Well, so long folks. I'm off to the monastery. Now for the hardest part of all - cancelling my ISP account. It's like cutting off my arm!

I feel I've been neglecting this blog these past few weeks for no good reason, and maybe that's a sign that this is the appropriate time to move on out of my parents' house and to whatever's next. I think things stagnated here faster than they ever could in San Francisco. It has admittedly been luxurious being a freeloader these past four months, with a small price of giving up certain freedoms. OK, it was a big price, and I couldn't float along here forever without melting down.

I'm going here for an unspecified amount of time. When I get there tomorrow, I register for a two week period, and at the end of the two week period, I ask if I can stay longer and state my reasons why I want to. From that point, I don't know what I become, maybe a long-term resident, maybe a monastic aspirant, hopefully not another 'freeloader'. Eventually I might decide to become a monk and then if I'm accepted, I'd take novice vows. I think the head shaving happens then as well as the robe wearing. If I decide to leave, I have no idea what I'll do or where I'll go. If I'm lame, which I am, I'll probably end up back in New Jersey to float some more to figure out what to do next. I'm thinking the time frame for all of this is 3 months to over a year.

I don't know what sort of internet access I'll have at the monastery. They have a connection in their business office, but I don't know who's allowed to use it or for how long. I'm hoping that long-term residents can request time on the internet. If so, there might be sporadic blogging and emailing, but I'm not counting on it. Staying in touch with people is good, but can't be a focal point of my being there.

Bottom line is this blog is officially on hiatus.

Maybe I overstate my claims of being a luddite. Once you've called your cell phone (which isn't really mine) because you can't find it, you've lost most of your luddite cred.

Before:



After:

voting:
I'm spending my morning filling out my California absentee ballot. I don't have the voter information book, and didn't realize until halfway through that I can look everything up online. Ican't believe I'm such a luddite. I can't believe I am such a pinko!

I think there's a valid argument against absentee ballots. I feel removed from the issues, I have no one to discuss them with and I don't get the junk mail which I actually save and use to make decisions. No, I don't think the absentee ballot is a bad thing, but maybe it shouldn't be so easy? Maybe I should have been forced to vote New Jersey? I dunno.

For the Presidential election, there's a bad choice, and there's a worse/worst choice. I'm voting for the bad choice because I'm not that much of a pinko to be subversive enough to vote for the worse/worst choice.

Two War Movies: DVD reviews
I feel like I need to apologize for it, but I just didn't like "Apocalypse Now Redux". I know I've seen "Apocalypse Now" before because I recognized scenes, and I don't remember thinking the film was bad, and I still don't think the film was bad, but something bothers me about it now, redux or otherwise.

I think it was the use of the Vietnam War as a foil to tell this tale, this journey into the heart of man's darkness. One review headline considers the movie the greatest Vietnam War movie of all time. That bothers me because it's not a Vietnam War movie, it's decidedly not about the Vietnam war. In fact, the source book, The Heart of Darkness, is apparently set in Africa.

The Vietnam War is still so explosive and fresh in memory, that its use in this movie merely as a foil feels cheap. It's important for Vietnam War movies to say something about the actual war - what happened, what was it like, what were we doing there, or why it was such a controversial, heart-wrenching conflict. Arguing that the story's thesis of man's inhumanity makes the Vietnam War the perfect backdrop for the film is wasted on me, because the connections are just in principle. Nothing in the film makes the connection between the meaning of the story and the Vietnam War.

And the end sequence was just offensive - neither Vietnamese or Cambodians are savages in the jungle, wearing loincloths and using spears and arrows as weapons (a holdover from the book?). I don't care if the intent was to remove all vestiges of the Vietnam War for that sequence, which plays out almost as a fantasy through a mythic haze. There are apparently reviewers thinking that it is still set in the Vietnam War.

I can go on, I can even mention a lot of good things about the movie, but I'd rather rave about "Das Boot". If someone called it the greatest World War II movie of all time, I would probably agree (not being a connesiuer connesseur connesewer an expert on war movies). It's also one of the greatest anti-war movies of all time.

It's almost three and a half hours long and occupies two sides of the DVD. I thought I'd watch side one first, and then watch side two later, but at the end of side one, I flipped it over and watched the rest of it. The movie creates such a tension and momentum that there was no good place to turn it off (unless war dramas bore you).

It must have been intentional that not a single Nazi swastika is shown in the movie (there's a flag on the submarine when it's sailing out and into port, but it's furled so you never see the swastika). I haven't read anywhere that it was intentional, but it could be that it's just obvious, as well as the intent, which would be to focus the film on the human dimension, and to separate the subjects from the Nazi party.

Leave it to me to find something to cram into my last days before heading for the monastery. I have all these years of learning songs on guitar and that's all gonna be gone. If I actually end up joining the monastery, I could bring a guitar if I wanted, but the songs that I know on guitar wouldn't exactly fit in a setting of peace and mindfulness. The only song I can think of off the bat is "Better Things" by The Kinks, but like most guitar stores, NO STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN ALLOWED. I don't mind giving up playing guitar any more than quitting bass and drums. I never took guitar playing seriously, so I was never good at it. Unlike bass and drums, which I DID take seriously and still wasn't good at.

So I've been making little mpegs of me playing the songs that I know for posterity. I'll leave them in a trunk that I'm gonna lock with all my really personal stuff - photos, journals, war medals, porn, letters, elementary school report cards, Nobel Prize, pet rock. I'm shooting them all over my parents' house, which one day I hope will pass for kitschy, but currently it's just embarassing and I wouldn't ever invite people over. Although I admit most people are good about it and find it fascinating. I have to shoot several in various closets filled with my mother's clothes, much of which still have pricetags on them! Oh dear.

I actually broke a Memory Stick doing this project. How the hell do you break a Memory Stick? But I bought it a few days ago, so I shouldn't have any problem bringing it back and saying it's damaged.

Cold weather = spiders moving indoors. I've gotten really good at the "not killing things" thing. Not even that spider I found crawling along the front of my shirt while brushing my teeth. Admittedly the little bugger was like half a centimeter big, and no freakage was involved.

The internet is really awesome, and blogging is also really awesome. There is just such an array of ideas and opinions the world over, depending on cultures and contexts and education and exposure and experience. Blogging emphasizes the right of everybody who has an internet connection to express their opinion and put it out there. Everyone has a right to allow comments and start a dialogue, even getting belligerent and offensive, everyone has a right to disallow comments and make their expression unilateral.

On the other hand it also promotes the right of anyone to prove they are dead wrong.

Damn, the days are counting down fast towards lift-off.

*hyperventilates*

I'm glad that my parents are on vacation and won't be around when I leave, but not having them around makes it difficult to discipline my days. I'm glad I pushed back my departure date to next Friday instead of this Monday or Tuesday. Reality strikes.

Me and Cath'lic brother went down to Philadelphia this weekend to visit Married With Child brother, even though I saw Married With Child brother just a week ago. I took advantage of this second trip to Philly and dialed up Oberlin friend, Valerie and met up with her for a few hours. After shedding so many good college friends, I need to hold on to the few who are left.

I finally got my absentee ballot from San Francisco. I'm not too smart, so I couldn't figure out beforehand that it would have been better to register and vote in New Jersey, a swing state, than vote as a San Franciscan, which is no-contest Democratic. Ralph Nader was on a late night talk show not long ago. The Green Party had the sense to not support him, realizing that this election really is different; too bad he didn't. He said all the things that would make me vote for him, but standing on principle is one thing. Being clueless as to reality is another. If Kerry wins, I swear I will vote Green from now on as long as they have an intelligent, eloquent candidate, but I wonder about Nader now.

Ug. You know you got it bad when the hardest you've laughed in the last five years is while watching Conan O'Brien. And considering I lived in San Francisco, I didn't get Conan O'Brien for 4 years and 8 months of the last five years.

Film analysis: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter...and Spring

After the third viewing, I think I finally got most of the main points in the movie, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter...and Spring. I assume anyone who reads this who hasn't seen the film by now, won't see it, so I'm not spoiling anything. Besides, this is interpretation. And this entire post is geek-wank, so anyone who hasn't seen the film wouldn't want to read any further anyway, so I can go on at length.

+ A leading point of confusion was "who was the woman at the end, and what's the significance of keeping who she is from the audience, even when the monk unveils her and discovers who she is?". I think the woman is the reincarnation of the old monk, and here's why:
--- The first clue is the use of the snake to symbolize the old monk (they slither away from the burning boat and are in his discarded clothes). At key points with the woman, when the question is strongest who she is, the director cuts to a shot of snakes.
--- Immediately after the young monk unveils the woman, there is a shot of a stone Buddha over the hole she fell in, that's a connection between the woman and a Buddha, and there's also a shot of the head of the ice Buddha floating in the stream. The ice Buddha represents the old monk because after the young monk carved it, he placed the precious stones of the old monk (more on that later) into its forehead (third eye). The ice head floating in the stream represents that it is also the now-dead woman.
--- The timeline is perfect for this theory. The old monk dies after the young monk is taken away to prison. If he's reincarnated as a woman, she would easily be in child-bearing years by the time the young monk gets out of prison 20-25 years later or whatever the minimum sentence for murder is in Korea. I'm assuming he gets out as soon as he's eligible because of good behavior.
--- The reason why the audience is never shown the woman's face is because if this theory is right, it would ruin the film to make it visually obvious. It's something for the audience to figure out using symbolic, visual cues. It's a little bit like Luke removing Darth Vader's mask. George Lucas ruined the film for me (for the 68th time at that point) by forcing an image, any image, of Anakin on us. It would have been so much more effective (and good film) if all we got was Luke's reaction shot. The audience's imagination would do the rest to move itself to tears, but Lucas assumes his audience has no imagination. And given the popularity of the extended "Star Wars" franchise, he's probably right. I digress.

+ With the theory that the woman is the reincarnation of the old monk, that begs further questions about the old monk's death. What was the old monk's suicide about? Why did he mimic the young monk's suicide attempt?
--- One interpretation is that the old monk knew exactly what he was doing. When the young monk is being taken away, the old monk "holds" the boat until the young monk turns around so that he could wave goodbye to him, knowing this was the last time they would see each other in this life. Then he lets the boat go. He then goes and dies, knowing he'll come back after the young monk gets out of prison.
--- I think there's also an atonement aspect to his death, which is why he mimics the young monk's attempted suicide with the pieces of paper over his face with the word "shut" written on them. All that has happened to the young monk is very much of himself as well, there's no duality. All the suffering the young monk has gone through and caused, in particular the person the young monk murdered, is directly linked to the old monk. The young monk is sent off to prison to pay his debt to society for the murder, but the old monk gives his life to pay off the karmic debt of the young monk. That's the compassion and selflessness of a bodhisattva.
--- It's important to understand the difference between the young monk attempting suicide and the old monk's doing it. The old monk beats the young monk for trying to do it because he knows the sources of the act - attachment, desire, suffering, torment, escape - and that he will end up worse off if he succeeded. He's in a karmic Catch-22 and his solution is to kill a(nother) living being, as if one wasn't bad enough. On the other hand, a hard part to understand, is that when the old monk does it, he doesn't kill himself. An enlightened being can't kill him or herself because there is no self to kill. That's what enlightenment means - it's a profound understanding, realization, and manifestation that there is no self that is separate from everything else in the universe. The self doesn't die, it can't be created, and it can't be killed because the idea of self that we unenlightened humans have is gone or radically altered and doesn't apply anymore.
--- A corollary to that is that the woman doesn't "die" either. It's the monk completing his commitment to the young monk.

So explicating the Winter sequence:
The young monk is released from prison and returns to the monastery. Immediately upon arrival, he walks to where the sunken boat is and bows to his master as if he knew exactly what happened after he was taken away. How does he know? It is his insight from having attained perfection (not enlightenment) while in prison. His perfection is depicted in his complete control of body and mind with the martial arts sequences and the ice Buddha carving. He picks through the ice where his master's remains are and digs out the precious stones and gems that he knows are there. That's a Buddhist thing, the belief (and some say documented fact) is that when a fully enlightened being dies, he or she leaves behind precious stones and gems in their remains after cremation.

When he sees the woman's face, he realizes it's the reincarnation of his master, and that is the catalyst for his enlightenment. Everything comes together and he returns to the very beginning with the stone tied to his back, only this time he ties it there himself and begins his ascent bearing the weight of all suffering (which I think may also be a Christ image, as Kim Ki-Duk is Christian), while carrying the Buddha of Compassion, Avalokiteshvara. His reaching the top is attaining enlightenment. What is enlightenment? It's sitting back at the monastery with a new disciple abusing a poor turtle.

I borrowed a bunch of DVDs from my brother in Philly. What's wrong with that guy that he doesn't have DVDs that I'm interested in that are less than two hours long? Das Boot (Director's Cut), Apocalypse Now Redux, and The Seven Samurai, which I've seen before, clock in at over three hours!

I've already watched Pulp Fiction and Boogie Nights, both 2 and a half hours, and tonight I watched A Beautiful Mind, Oscar Winner for best picture in 2001. Bleah! I actually wasn't thrilled with "Boogie Nights" either, but I can cut that one some slack for a good effort, it certainly wasn't bad. But a two and a half hour subject matter, "Boogie Nights" is not.

No, my ire is saved for "A Beautiful Mind" because it did win the Oscar. In general, Hollywood is not my taste, so chances are that anything coming out of Hollywood is not going to score high in my book. But I thought that "the best" film out of Hollywood in a given year could at least elicit a nod of approval. But it's with a sneer that I say I can see why "A Beautiful Mind" won the Oscar.

The first hour of the film was mush that barely kept my interest and I was going to turn it off if it didn't get my attention soon. Now I'm not one to turn off a film in the middle, but at 2 hours and 15 minutes, I'll learn. And it did get my attention, it started getting interesting with the story twist. That lasted about 40 minutes, and then the film degenerates until it reaches the Hollywood schlock ending with music straight from "Field of Dreams" (except that it worked in "Field of Dreams"), and my finger down my throat.

Talk about a sawdust cake. So superficial. With a pretty good but not brilliant performance by Russel Crowe, who I like. There's really no reason why we should like the character, and all the suggestion and innuendo that he's a genius has to be taken on faith because it sure isn't explained. Even the breakthrough moment when he hits upon the theory for which he eventually won the Nobel Prize in Economics is unnoteworthy. Leading up to the scene, he's portrayed as a crackpot. So when it happens, it just looks like more of him being a crackpot.

Show me a beautiful mind and I'll throw a tomato at it.

My parents left today for vacation. I have the house to myself for three weeks (unless I leave for the monastery first). I am currently blasting Pink Floyd's "The Wall Live 1980-1981" at an ungodly volume. AND singing along (which I only do when I'm damn sure no one can hear me). No, I can't really hit the high notes. Yes, I can do the screams.

And I set up my bass drum and snare in the basement. I haven't played since December, and if I set up any more than that, I'm sure I'd end up hurting my wrists.

You'd think you wouldn't forget something like . . . a season. Autumn to be precise. In San Francisco, the change to Autumn was subtle - maybe a whiff in the air, and the fog stops being so relentless - quite nice, actually. But here, I forgot how the light patterns completely change, the shadows, the angle of the sun, and of course there's the chill and the necessity of closing windows at night (even though in San Francisco, I had to close the windows at night all year round). It's sorta exciting. But it's a love-hate thing. You love how it feels right now, with lungfuls of crisp, cool air, a relief from the Summer heat, but it sucks letting Summer go. That crisp, cool air is Winter's hand on your shoulder. Autumn is Summer dying, lovely and fading.

When I lived here last, I was in high school. On a day like today, at right about this time of day, maybe cross-country would be ending (until I got kicked off the team after having passed out during a race in Van Cordlandt Park in the Bronx). I would have changed and would be hanging out in the gym lobby, goofing off with teammates who were waiting for their rides to pick them up. Or maybe I would have had Jazz/Rock rehearsal down in the art center. At 5:30, the singers would probably start drifting out once their songs were done, but the band would still be jamming horribly. Early in high school, I'd call for someone to pick me up. Sometimes someone would give me a ride. I think I walked a few times. It was only a mile, but it wasn't fun lugging a bass up the hill. In later years, I think I drove a lot, parking off-campus on local streets.

But it's time to move on, and I'll be heading for the monastery near San Diego at the end of October. Exactly one year after my first visit there. The weather should be nice, and for once I'm not dreading the end of Daylight Savings and November. I'll be joining them halfway through their 3-month Winter Retreat, which they shifted to the Autumn because the head honcho, who is living in exile in France from Vietnam, recently got permission to return. It's pretty big deal and he will be going to Vietnam in January, along with a good portion of the San Diego monks, but not all, so I think I'll be able to just stay there. I don't know, I'm playing it by ear and have no idea what will eventually happen.

I got a new 2 lb., 3-season sleeping bag and Teva's today for the monastery. Why did I throw away my old decrepit Birks when I was packing to leave San Francisco? Shows the kind of judgment I was applying at the time. And I dug out my brother's dusty external frame backpack out of the basement, so I'm starting to look the part. I'm expecting to be pretty minimal there. I'll take my digital camera, but not plan to use it unless I decide to leave, at which point I'll take portraits of the monks. I'm still undecided on a CD player for the train ride across the country. That will depend on room. The only luxury item I'm allowing myself are my binoculars and a planisphere (star chart) for star-gazing, and hopefully I can strap a tripod to the backpack. Yup, time to shift the paradigm.

Wow, Motorcycle Diaries was so good. It started to seem like an unremarkable roadtrip movie, but it is when the roadtrip ends that the true journey begins. I can see some people not liking how it got from "this kind of film" to "that kind of film", and the thread of the film isn't seamless. But just watching it and not being overly critical, the emotions are incredibly well done and mostly convincing. One dramatic scene went a little too far over the top. Otherwise I don't have a whole lot to say about the film, it was more of an emotional journey, and the intellectual, analytical stuff can be saved for a biopic on Che Guevara's life as a revolutionary. Highly, highly recommended.

As I was walking out, some parents were bringing their excited and noisy kids to see the new animated shark movie with Will Smith. I shook my head and felt sorry for them that they weren't going to see "Motorcycle Diaries". I wanted to go up to the parents and tell them to take the kids to see "Motorcycle Diaries" just to see the looks on their faces. Too bad the joke would be lost on these suburban, soccer mom breeders. They would have thought I was serious and asked, "Oh, is it good?", instead of realizing that, no, this is not a film any sane parent would take their kids to see.

The director did something that I've been thinking about for a while. I always thought it would be an improvement on still photographic snapshots to have a medium that takes several seconds of a snapshot, and to be able to have these in album form. The director puts in these gorgeous black and white, several second portrait snapshots of various subjects in the later part of the film. If they were photographs, they would be amazing, but it's cool because the subjects are posing and you can see subtle bits of movement. I'm gonna start trying to do that with the mpeg feature on my camera. Too bad I didn't think of this when I actually knew people I could take these portraits of. Of course, this doesn't accomplish having them in album form, but it's a start.