New Age. Anti-system. Free Love. What cannot be proven still has value. Anger. Malcolm X. Rock and Roll. Nostalgia. Death. Suffering. Beauty. Nature. The meaning. The one. Poetry. American Culture (or lack there of). High Culture. The good life. A wise man and a fool see not the same tree. Mr. Mojo Risin. Love Love. India pre 1991. Anti Allopathic Medicine and all its lies. Meditation. Teaching to transgress. Amusing ourselves to death. Love your mamma.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
My review of Ozu on the 6 train - spring street to grand central. 10 minutes ----->
Early Spring evokes a unique emotional response that can be described as tender anxiety laced with quiet desperation filled with momentary lapses of transcendence.
The despair is pervasive and real and confronted with honesty. The rhythm of monotony gives way occasionally to an expansive feeling. This feeling rescinds often and comes back like a festering wound that refuses to heal.
You feel in new ways, in Japanese ways. That repression filled with moments of controlled hysteria. That desire for courage and bravery. The embrace of modernity is coupled with a conscience of its tragedy.
Not many people will want to feel this. The rewards seem dubious to us as a culture that strives to win, and be ever more modern. These type of musings seem nihilistic.
But there is something at work here that is mysterious and moves us in undescribable ways. Almost sacred. Like a bell tolling in the distance. It reminds us of time passing. Of our demise. And how beautiful the sound is.