We rode our bicycles freely on that
warm july day,
our feet hanging off of the pedals as if we
were flying-
sailing the swollen land waves into a sea
of laughter-
an ocean of fluid moments,
swirling like a tempest,
and drenching us in liquid smiles-
each droplet collected into our minds
like watercolor photos in a well worn scrapbook-
meticulously quilted like random stamps
in a well traveled passport-
if we had sails, we would glide the surface
to our blue destinies-
if we had wings, we would soar to those fabled heights
and free our souls from the cryptic dust
of the top shelf*

Hollywood screwed up on this one (as it usually does); Tim Roth was the DUDE in 1996. Rob Roy was his diamond encrusted role of a lifetime (unless you consider his role as Ted the Bellhop in the hilarious 1995 comedy ‘Four Rooms’), and the guy was literally on point from start to finish. Don’t get me wrong, Liam Neeson did a stand up job as 18th century brigand Robert Roy MacGregor, but you literally end up hating Tim Roth by the end of the movie. I didn’t just hate Tim Roth’s villainously villainous villain Archibald Cunningham, I hated Tim Roth the guy. I hated him, and I hated his face. That’s how you know a guy has nailed the role to a wall. The calm, yet deceptively evil crooked grin, the ease at which he dispatched his enemies, and the ruthlessness at which he exacted his hatred were incredibly and deliciously detestable. Which, in all honesty, makes you love the crap out of his performance. The awesomeness of his abilities didn’t go unnoticed by the powers that be, as he was nominated for an Oscar in 1996, but lost to Kevin Spacey (who won for his role as Verbal Kint in ‘The Usual Suspects’). But let me tell you, the dude was robbed. I could go on and on, but watch this action and judge the coldheartedness for yourself.

Go find happy-
like a child seeks out the first clandestine egg of
easter-
go find happy-
like the ‘it’ man in a good game
of hide and seek-
find your place, like the drill
finds the secret, buried well-
find your meaning, like the scientist
discovers the invisible-
find that treasure beneath the sediment
that has been lost so long from the human
touch-
find that sunken goliath that has laid
unclaimed at the bottom of the murky
deep-
find that spirit within your bones that
seeks nothing more than the quiet of a
blue sky-
find it and reclaim it-
capture it and restore it-
recover it and cultivate it
like an ancient artifact concealed under
centuries of dust and webs,

doubt and sand-
raise it from the secluded depths of
the unknown-
the time has come to make it known-
the time has come to seek out-
to cast out-
to find that mythical place-
go find happy-
go resurrect yourself*

Is this it?
the carrot said to the cucumber-
to grow and be eaten?
to reach a height, just to be cut
down?

is that all?
the cucumber was silent for a moment
as he mused the carrot’s dilemma-
at length, the cucumber replied,
is that not life?
a beginning and an end?
a start and a finish?
some lives end much sooner than yours,
my friend-
the sun rises and nudges your lips day
after day,
and you marvel at the moon and stars
night after night-
in between, you inhale crisp air,
listen to the world,
and all the while,
grow-
when your time comes,
it will come-
that’s what it is-
you will go on to sustain others,
as bodies go back to their origins
in a perpetual cycle-
your purpose is clear,
and the cycle will go on
until the very last day-
there is always a beginning, a middle,
and an end-
you can’t help your beginning, but you can
make the most of your middle until
your end is decided-
that’s all there is to it-
the carrot thought about that for a long,
quiet while
as it swayed softly under the gentle breeze,
and basked calmly under the warm sun-
it nodded in approval*

what is flesh, but a creation-
a limited fuse lit by an unseen hand-
can it heal?
yes-
can it grow?
yes-
and we don’t have to lift a finger-
what is flesh, but a wrapper-
a covering-
much like a candy bar-
or a tiny mint-
a mask for something more defined
and complex-
a shirt for our thoughts-
socks for our feelings-
a jacket for our innermost workings-
we can spend years crying tears of all
colors-
or smiling moonlit smiles-
with or without the courage to move
forward, or backward-
with or without the strength to stand on
current ground-
what is flesh, but a creation-
what is creation, but a thought turned into
action-
and action, a collection of concerted
effort-
it heals-
it grows-
and all we have to do is continue to
breathe-
the sun always shines*

Memento- David Julyan

So if you’ve ever perused this blog, you’ll by now be made aware of the fact that I am a huge fan of foreign films, be they good or bad. I’m fascinated by the similarities and differences of American versus Foreign, and how the blending of the cultures creates an overall appealing movie. People are generally the same from continent to continent; the same gripes, hopes, dreams, and setbacks. But the subtle cultural differences seem to pop creatively on film. My latest pick is a bad boy out of South Korea titled “A Better Tomorrow”, which is a 2010 remake of the original 1986 Hong Kong classic that featured shoot ’em up action titan Yun-Fat Chow. In short, the film centers around two brothers, separated at a young age, that end up re-connecting years down the road. One brother chose the police force and the other followed a life of crime, so we can predict the inevitable clashes that arise with that; in addition, we have the usual double crossing bad guy that you end up hating by the end of the movie. While I’m generally opposed to remakes and ‘re-imaginings’, this is a solid version of a true gem.

A Better Tomorrow – 2010

A Better Tomorrow – 1986- and yes, the music is ridiculously cheesy, so it’s perfectly ok if you bust out into uncontrollable laughter. It’s not every day that you get to see gigantic explosions and blazing guns while listening to sappy Hong Kong power pop.

It’s not about what you can hope to get from others; it’s about what you can give to others, by giving to yourself.

raindrops crush under the weight of their
descent-
a rapid free fall precipitated by angry
rumblings and swollen pride-
thrust into frigid, swirling winds like an
orphan in search of a cause-
but reveling in the freedom of that
solo flight-
it’s a one way destiny to a single lane
road-
where every second is prized,
but places more distance between
now and then-
there is only forward*