Melancholia: The Movie (Spoiler: this movie sucks)

This movie called Melancholia was mailed to me by the TV GIANT CORP popularly known as Netflix recently. Melancholia is a movie that was released in 2011 by some movie company. What I understand from watching it once (mostly watching it, sometimes I messed with the fire or the champagne or the pug or the twitter or something else) was that it was about a really cool looking end to the planet Earth from the perspective of super rich people who seem to basically own the Earth. This planet, called Melancholia, is going to hit Earth and destroy it (obviously). For a while, the people don’t think it will happen like that. It will just be a close call.

Side note: if you want to see Kirsten Dunst’s boobs, you can get an eyeful in this movie. That’s just FYI.

Kirsten Dunst in Melancholia

Kirsten Dunst in Melancholia

I think that this movie was sent to me because it was made by a Danish filmmaker. I love Denmark specifically and Scandinavia in general. Deal done.

The setting/cinematography/effects are pretty awesome. These super rich fuckers have an amazing place to live while they watch the world end. The premise seems to have so many possibilities. But all that happens is the world ends and people act sad about it or ambivalent about it. Or whatever.

The actors in this movie were pretty high class. The problem is that the writing, the story…just sucks. There is a lot of potential, but nothing is realized.

I understand from doing some cursory web searches that the point of this movie might have been that depressed people are calm in times of crisis. That’s cool. But there could have been better characters aside from Justine. She was the only one really developed, despite the Part One and Part Two stuff.

My verdict: Don’t watch expecting a great movie. Watch if you think it is fun to think about how it could have been a great movie.

melancholia

melancholia

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The quest for the perfect margarita

Tequila Heals

A tribute to tequila I drew

Therapy comes in surprising forms. In fact, in my impromptu post Ways to Deal with Itthe first thing I list are most of the ingredients for a margarita. It comes before marijuana and chopping wood, fer chrissakes.  3 years ago, I didn’t drink tequila.  Now, I don’t like to go for a week without it.

Tequila is a real place. Es una ciudad de México, en el estado de Jalisco. Jalisco is a state on the western side of Mexico (part of it just brushing up against the wonderful Pacific Ocean), though it extends well into the interior. The town of Tequila is not far from Guadalajara, just a bit north and a bit west.  I’ve never been there, though I have been to Spain.

Tequila doesn’t have to come only from Tequila or even the state of Jalisco, however. It can come from quatro otros estados en México. Three of the 4 other states border Jalisco. They basically surround it. To the north is Nayarit, to the south is Michoacán, and to the east is Guanajuato (the only landlocked Tequila-producing state). Further to the east and disconnected from any of the other Tequila-producing states is Tamaulipas. Tamaulipas borders Texas to the north and the Gulf of Mexico to the east. Got it?  Here’s a map so you can see these states:

Political Map of Mexico

Political Map of Mexico

For now, there ends the background exploration of the key ingredient in a margarita: Tequila. Tequila isn’t the only wonderful ingredient in the margarita, however.  There are others, and many variations on that theme. The origins of the drink aren’t so clear, but the story of the cocktail doesn’t interest me at this point nearly as much as the ingredients and the mixture itself. The other essential stuff:

Lime juice (freshly squeezed)

Orange Liqueur (Cointreau-my current preference-, Combier, Grand Marnier, etc triple sec)

Ice

That’s basically the classic, perfect margarita…proportions can vary to taste.

Citrus fruit is such a wonderful, wonderful thing…and although limes are one of my favorite, there are others that simply beg to be squeezed into a shaker and mixed with alcohol and ice.  Meyer Lemons. Clementines. I like those a lot in my margaritas. Here’s a beautiful, live action, cell phone pic:

Citrus Fruit is my friend

Citrus fruit is my friend. Lime, Meyer Lemon, Clementine

When I put this all together, this is what I get:

Margarita Nirvana

Margarita Nirvana

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About Time I Said Something About I AMsterdam…

Tip: To better experience this blog, play the vidoes with the sound ON as you read.  Sometimes watching the video can be inspirational, but the most important part of video is the SOUND.

Tarbelly & Featherfooot.  Swing the Statue:

Thanks for the recommendation of Grey Area.  I know its name, but I still want to call it Gray Matter for some reason.  Went there on a Sunday.  Same day other people went to Church.  I saw some of them coming and going to and fro.  Smoked Eel.  Mixed Potatoe Sausage.  Heineken.  Photos and flowers. I AMSTERDAM!

The line was too long at the Van Gogh. Forget that.  The sun was shining anyway.  Old Art can wait. It always looks the same anyway.

Then it was to Gray Matter.  A dingey dank little shop.  I did not wear a mustache.  Some others I think were wearing, however.  I tried not to look at them.  I wasn’t sure if I should or not. It was a grey area.  There was a varities menu with prices per portion.  It all sounded good. A choice was required though it didn’t matter to me. Just give me some please. And Thank You, by the way. It was great. I selected at Random and passed on the menu to a fellow patriot. He got excited about Kosher Kush being on the menu and proclaimed it to be rare and powerful.  I had no reason to doubt this stranger’s wisdom and knowledge, so I took the unintentional advice.  And got some Kosher Kush. 1 gram.  I dunno 16 Euro maybe.  Does that sound right? Kinda sounds expensive to me. Oh well. Fuck it. My choice is arbitrary anyway…but why not pick the hand written entry over the permanent ones? Intuition.

Messed around with some thin cheap papers.Bad music.Wasted weirdos.And bad matches. Before bailing on the place.  Shoulda just asked for a bong for sure.But that kinda seemed like cheating or suicide or both. Bongs are scary sometimes. Especially when they belong to a completely unknown entity. Public-use bong? Yes we have that! I AMSTERDAM!

Busted outta there. Camera in pocket. Directions in hand.  The dealer at Gray Area knew a place where I could find a glass pipe. He gave me good directions. I was stoned, but not too stoned. I was walking around in Amsterdam on a Sunny Sunday. Of course it was beautiful. And strange.And for a moment it was a place where I appreciated everybody and whatever they were doing, even if they were in my way or obstructing my view or slowing me down or blocking the light or yakking loud about nothing.Or just being strange.

From there I just wandered, water bottle in hand. Sometimes I’d look at a map, but mostly I looked at the sun, the people, the shine. I wondered how many of those people would be there the next weekend too. I took pictures and looked at the sky and the cobblestones and the boats and the trash cans. I figured my way back to base but I wasn’t afraid of being strange. I stopped at the grocery. I got a 6-pack of Heineken cans and some Haribo candi (Frogs and Banannas). No Ape Koppen candies unfortunately.

And then.

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The Klemp Transcriptions Pt #1 of more (I think).

Centered and bold are the words of The Klempmaster, Harold Eck himself. 

(in parenthesis are notes about the nonverbal expressions one might see live on Klemp’s face)…..

VIDEO AT BOTTOME!!!!

This story is from Nigeria

(4 eye blinks)

There has been much political turmoil

in that country

(3 eye blinks)

And the members of Eckankar

(3 eye blinks)

Have

(eyes closed plus 1 eyes blink)

Gained from the spiritual lessons that

occur during time of hardship

(4 eye blinks)

(1 eyes closed)

Now (with eyes closed)

(a sigh)

(a “tick” sound)

I don’t know how better to say it, but,

(3 eye blinks)

People learn spiritual lessons better

when times are hard

(4 blinks)

(1 deep inhale)

(1 blink)

Now.  America.

The United States of America.

(3 blinks)

has been enjoying

(3 blinks)

an unprecedented

(long pause) _cough in audience_

BOOM!

(3 blinks)

Some call it a bubble

(smirk, licks lips)

For many years with one dip

(1 blink)

in the early ’90s

(2 blinks)

And so people lose their ability.

To listen

To the voice of God.

Things are so good.

They can buy…so many…things.

Bigger TV sets

Soon,

EVEN IN AMERICA

High Definition TV

I know some of you are laughing in Europe because you have it.

Already.

And COMPUTERS. Let’s not forget computers.

Its possible to go into the virtual world of a computer

And get totally absorbed in an unreal world,

So that it no longer matters whether:

the sun shines

or

the rain falls

(Minnesotan accent)

oh yah

But we come home after work

Its more computers

Computers at work, computers at home

Computers early, computers late.

Computers! COMPUTERS!

When its not computers, its TV!

OR Movies!

We’re virtually Alive!

Or another way of saying it is

we’re virtually dead…spiritually!

I know this comes as a shock

but I realized too, as I spent…

oh, let’s see….

About twelve years on a computer before I got sick in 1994,

and wasn’t able to use

a computer anymore.

I learned how it had absorbed all my time.

I was online.

The internet was just coming on

…and I was on the internet looking around

I was in chat rooms

Talking to many of you

With Dream Classes, Dreams Rooms.

I did that.

I been there

(great smirk!!!)

But I got out of it in one piece. 

(full smile)

Barely

(he is lauging)

but Barely.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZ8Ya3N5eDQ

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About Time I Said Something about Sean Barret…this guy on facebook.

Some stuff that should be recorded here, from a guy calling himself Sean Barret on Facebook.  His words for all eternal:

Mine wether its a nightmare or a dream its always sad for in the end theres no one to share the awareness of the experience with… Even when i want to transform it, i do not have anyone dear to me whom can consciously agree on an excersize that ive discovered this beautifull love song instead i envy you who have eck centres and temples to run to in other to feel the energy of the same like minds instead i become as sad as the stray wolf howling at the moon when i close my eyes to sing Hu….

I leave in a dream, nightmare is my reality i want to pray but i donno if i believe da priests anymore i keep searching for myself hoping i’ll find my body n wake up instead when i arrive home n i open da door to my room my body is gone n da dream is my life reality is my nightmare i need to awaken from this illusion that has everybody sleeping but no one wants accept that they’re dreaming this reality which is da population of the thoughts of God refused to be accepted as they are. the brain children of God hence we are gods.

ABOVE the horizon below the heavens lies a place that sings with hues of anticipations hopes of that which is believed 2b intangible manifesting as possibilities that we could truly love should we let ourselves to be susceptible to beauty that exist in us when we are captured by it. smile people we are all beautiful and that’s truly love.

Sum curses r actualy blessings dat requires to act boldly to cultivate positive result 4rm ’em so whatever ur curse is, it might b ur hidden strengh.

All i wanna do is to run of da highest structure jump n dive into freedom flight.

Prayers scribed in digital landscapes hope passed thru synapses transmitted on android Tablets tabloids imagination released as telepathic newsfeed streaming pornography to stimulate vissualization bewarnd reptalians on semen they feed dont bleed or blink

I’m blunting @ wrk nyce!

Money 2 me is instrumental the tempo measurement of how i construct in this mundane reality called by earth plane.

sleepless dreamless oh what a mess 2 b lost in this vortex wondering aimless into da abyss da darkness stirring into my soul hw blaq r u when da hologram of light shines thru u!

I can’t wait till i’m thru this dense Forest of deluded truths.

Help my dad wants to b my friend on facebook!

HUUUUUUUU………………………

Little Mr. T

Sean Barret amazing things the net can do hey! do you happen to what is his name he’s got potential i wonder who is his mother she has to be one incredible women around i mean check out his hair cut bru!!

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The Flight

Sunset Cocktails high in the sky

Sunset Cocktails high in the sky

There was a lady with a baby

Young baby and young lady

Baby was young enough to fly for free

–PERK of being young I guess

Lady was on her own– ‘cept for the baby I mean

It was Omaha to Chicago…and the flight was delayed.

We were all together…vaguely…

—  Me   & This Lady   &   This Baby  —

Certainly, we were NOT together. I didn’t mean we were together.  If you asked us if we were together, we’d deny it.  Yet…there we were.  Together. In an Omaha airport.

Anyway. As the story unfolds, we were behind schedule. All of us.

“We” weren’t really behind schedule, of course.  “We” meaning the collective untogether group that had assembled at a specific (and unpleasant) place, at a specific time.  No, we weren’t behind schedule at all.  We were right where we had agreed to be, independently, at that specific time…well in advance of that moment.  We all intended to go from Omaha to Chicago at that time.

“We” (the real we not the fake we) were going home, via chicago.  Me and my wife. I don’t know anything about that lady and that baby.   And we were delayed…because of some people we didn’t know.  some other people.  people we didn’t know and maybe never would…we were late even as we waited.

So we couldn’t go.  We sat and waited.  We wondered.

–Would we make it?

–Where would we sleep?

–Would it be better to get stuck here or there?

–And what about the other people in Chicago? The people on the next plane? Would they be on time?

It would be better if they weren’t on time. I’d prefer if they weren’t on time, if they were delayed it would be good. Better for me if other people were late…they might be going someplace via Chicago themselves, maybe home…but that didn’t concern me. Better if others were also inconvenienced. To my benefit if that happened.  I didn’t know those people, so how much could I be expected to care about them above myself? I had important things to accomplish by being on time. The general human community would benefit from the reverbs of goodness I was prepared to unleash upon it if only I was somehow allowed to make my connecting flight in Chicago.  My tardiness…no OUT tardiness…would set back the human race in a completely imperceptible way. Certainly.

SO

No matter what

we were all in the same uncontrollable boat. Together, but not really…but collectively at the mercy of fate or chance or worse.

But, it wasn’t in Omaha were I learned facts about the lady & the baby. I saw them there, yeah, sure. I observed them.  yep. The baby in a big ass stroller.  The lady by herself…in a summer dress. I thought about how much hassle it must be to travel with that bigg ass stroller- – -on an airplane- – – by herself

And then I got back to wondering if we’d make our connection in Chicago.  We (my wife and I, not the other ‘we’) knew we had no later flights to catch to our real destination. We could be stuck in Chicago. Slumbering.

I started to think about what bar I would go to if I was stuck in Chicago. This seemed like a very real possibility and I thought it prudent to know what my drinking destination would be should it happen. I also wondered about what food I would eat there, in Chicago…what trains I would need to take…and whether I would get really drunk or just plain ol’ drunk.

And our plane landed and we all boarded And I had no answers to my questions. I just had questions and hopes and ideas and thoughts and frustrations and nothing else…except an hour long flight.

I read a book.  It was Tom Robbins. It said this:

“When humans were young, they were pushed around in strollers.  When they were old, they were pushed around in wheelchairs. In between, they were just pushed around.”

Dark and Stormy Naparbier

Dark and Stormy Naparbier

When we landed in Chicago at Gate C8 it was 15 minutes past boarding time for our next flight. As luck…fate…whatever would have it our connection to Hartford was at gate C29. That only a half-mile or so from C8!  We had a fleeting chance to not end up drunk in some Chicago bar that night, but we had to haul fucking ass.

As we waited to deplane, the lady and the baby appeared again.  A stranger was needed to hold the baby while the lady gathered things together in the cabin. A fat woman was put to use. Presumably she was or had been a mother at some point…or she had at least had some experience holding the babies of strangers already. Hopefully.

There ensued a discussion about the baby’s temperament…its sleep schedule…how well it had performed on the flight so far (which means it hadn’t annoyed anybody yet). It involved the lady, the stranger, the stewardess, and other strangers…wearing dress slacks and tucked in shirts with sunglasses on top of their heads…

It was revealed by the lady that she had to connect to a flight to Manitoba at 8:10.  The lady stated emphatically that she didn’t want to get stuck in Chicago that night.

—Poor Chicago…always taking ill will from weary travelers who get stuck there and hate it and ill will from travels who haven’t even gotten stuck there but fear that they may and don’t want to. Vehemently.  I wonder if the people living in Chicago know how much dread their home inflicts upon innumerable travelers? I think that in the least this must explain the curse that is on the Cubs. The Cubs manifest what everybody else feels about Chicago. Get your hopes up…and get them down…or just hope that nothing happens that is bad and maybe things will be good.

But really, what this whole thing is about is a moment on an airplane on the tarmac at O’hare.

We were parked at C8. We were standing…shaking…palpitating…rocking…praying…cussing…smiling.  The aircraft door was open. I could see sun streaming in and hitting the upper corner of the plastic door frame to the air plain. I was standing in the aisle, maybe 8 or 10 rows back. In order to see the sun, I had to leverage my elbow on the seat-back to my right and lean in to the seats, forward and over them. Then I could see the door. The sun. The lady. The stranger. The baby. and the business people. I leaned over and in and forward looking at the sun because I knew that as long as I could see that sun, I wasn’t going anywhere…but the second I could see a shadow cross it, it was go time.  Damn Sun!

I looked on, hoping with all hope that the sun would soon be obliterated by the strange mechanical contraption called a JETBRIDGE. That is when I started to focus on a man.

He was wearing the business pants. He had a striped polo shirt tucked into said business pants. His hair was mostly gray. Quite distinctive. And well trimmed.  He didn’t look tired. He didn’t look hung over.

He looked at the lady. And then at the baby. He kind of smiled…then gave a little chuckle. A little laugh.  It was as if seeing the stressed out single mom and her baby was super cute to him.  Or maybe it was Manitoba that gave him delight. I don’t know.  But other people seemed to enjoy this scene too.  They smiled.  They nodded.  Maybe they chuckled. They were glad it wasn’t them is all.  They were glad they didn’t have a baby and a big stroller and a sun dress and a flight to Manitoba to catch.

Oh, no…no…no …no.  They smiled because life was beautiful at this tender young age.  They smiled in appreciation of this young woman giving up her entire life to dedicate herself to this other person that couldn’t even talk yet…where the best that could be said was that the baby hadn’t bothered anybody over the past 2 hours or so…they smiled on…wordless transubstantiated joy permeated the atmosphere (now uncontrolled) of the plane…

But I kept thinking it was something darker. It had to be.

The smiles were “that baby doesn’t know what it is in for”

Good luck in Canada with a single mom, kid!

Hope you don’t get stuck in Chicago tonight!

Beeps. Honks. Gears. Shadows. And everybody gets pushed around.

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The Festival, Eckankar, the Dream

I love Eck.  So amazing is that moving and indecipherable power!

Pot of Gold: Eckankar Temple

Pot of Gold: Eckankar Temple

It seems to be behind everything: Light, Dreams, Understanding, Athlete’s Foot, Near Sightedness, Riots, Strife, and Zombies.  That just names a few. Oh, Eckankar also seems to be a big player in the anti-litter movement that has focused on highways around the US.

One thing that happened recently was that there was this big beer festival with lots of people from all over the world.  They served the best beer of all time there. Westvleteren XII.  It was amazing.  Ol’ Klemp would have loved it!  Yeah, it was grand.  And it put a lot of new thoughts into my head.  Things I didn’t even know about.  And then, after it was over, I started to have dreams.  Strange, powerful, dramatic dreams.  Dreams that when you wake up and remember them you just have to tell somebody about them.  You have to tell somebody anything you can remember. Everything you can remember.

So the dust is scattered through the air.  There was a high priest of Eck, I think he was the ruling priest.  He seemed extremely looked after and important to the Eckist at least, from what I can recall.  His name was something like Yurivehement.  Something like that.  Something we can’t be certain of anyway.

It was important that I meet in person with Yurivehement.  There seemed to be only one way to get in to see him: on a darkened school bus that took you right into the center of the Eckankar compound.  I was happy to hop on the school bus and head out there.  It had to be done.  It was essential for the success of the festival.  The project needed to move forward and move with urgency.  I was gonna get it done.

It was a long bus trip though, and I was tired.  There was plenty of space on the bus so I figured I could sleep.  There happened some other people going on the as well, up front.  I didn’t really know them, but figured I should ask if it was OK if I slept awhile.  They encouraged me to make myself comfortable.  It was a long bus ride.  Get some rest, they said.  Take a load off, they said. So, naturally, I stripped down to my boxers and curled up to sleep.

Next thing I know, I’m awake. Disorientated, but alert…and scared. There was yelling outside the bus…a little pounding on it…and it wasn’t moving.  The people in the front were huddled, but I could him them speaking softly. They intended to do something horrible with me, that was clear. I had to get out. I managed (somehow) to slip out one of the back windows of the bus without anybody seeing me and sneak into the Eckankar compound. I wasn’t dressed, so I had to find someplace to get clothes.  I found the gym locker room quickly, thank heavens. Then I was out in the halls of the Eck campus. It was filled with students and lockers and classrooms. I had an important package of beers that I had somehow gotten off the bus. I couldn’t let those fall into the wrong hands. I knew I needed to get out there quickly, but also knew they were looking for me and it wouldn’t be easy to escape. I had to pee. I knew I needed to stash my package of important beers someplace before taking them into the bathroom. I couldn’t risk people in the bathroom realizing I was the beer guy they were hunting. I found an inconspicuous bench that had other bags resting under it and slid my pack underneath, then went into the bathroom.

The bathroom was a strange place. There was no conversation of any sort and there was a man standing in the middle of the room, ostensibly keeping watch to make sure that nothing strange happened in the bathroom. This gave me a very uneasy feeling. Then, in came a woman with a baby. She walked up to the urinal next to me and put her baby into it. She proceeded to bathe the baby in the urinal, flushing the toilet to help rinse it. The baby started to cry, and then began to projectile green vomit. This went on without so much as a comment or second glance from anybody else in the bathroom. Man, I needed to get out of there.

Bleh!

Bleh!

On my way out, I was accosted by a strange man with half a normal face and half a face that changed with images on it, like a TV.  He also had no teeth at all, on either side of his face. He challenged that I was the person they were hunting for and that I had wronged the Eckankar people, who apparently did not appreciate my ideas about them partnering to put on a beer festival. He claimed that he would summon Yurivehement to the scene and he would use his powers to melt my mind and convert me to the proper ways of living. I responded to him that I had already known Yurivehement and had in fact had lunch with him recently and that he was completely powerless.  There was nothing special about Yurivehement.  So I said, “Go ahead and summon him.  I’m outta here.” With that, I walked off and the dream, as far as I can remember it, ended.

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