The greatest crime is
atrophy-
life drawn in like a frigid breath in
winter-
the greatest injustice is lack of
movement-
a monstrous desire lying in wait
like a turtle under its shell-
protecting itself from the stark
realities of the outside world-
shielding itself from the ticking of
each day’s clock-
lying in wait-
protected from the world-
protected,
yet stunted by that heavy armor-
stalled by that dense burden-
how easy it would be to lay in wait-
day after day-
promising that tomorrow will be the day-
each hour wishing that the spark
would hit the fuse-
but would you be ready if it did?
the greatest crime is atrophy-
watching self belief whittle away under
the wind like grains of sand-
watching the nectar of your efforts
stolen and evaporated-
watching the anchor fall and drag the
silt of the ocean floor-
your ship suspended in a state of
catatonia-
washing down your fatigue with a glass
of procrastination-
and asking briskly for a second serving-
the greatest crime is atrophy-
and we are all afflicted-
we all fall prey to its decaying
grasp-
and wither into a mass of dust and
doubt-
fear and loss-
promise and denial-
we create our shell-
and are all too eager to reside within
its comfort-
it’s warm inside-
and our skin is fooled by the safety of it-
the greatest crime is atrophy-
the greatest injustice is a lack of
movement-
it’s too easy to become afflicted*

revis – caught in the rain

plastic bertrand – ca plane pour moi

hans zimmer – dream is collapsing (from the film ‘inception’)

tv on the radio – second song

mccoy tyner – there is no greater love

I am the vasco da gama of my
own mind-
the francisco pizarro of my soul-
the ponce de leon of my heart-
and the Magellan of my spirit-
I am an explorer,
like all of the rough hewn names before me-
yet distant lands are not my quest-
I roam the last great undiscovered
frontier-
the wild seas of the self

You never know what time will
be the final time-
the last wave,
the last hello,
the last goodbye-
funny, because you can think
of how,
if you knew it was going to be
the last time,
you would have done things
differently-
said more-
done more-
but what good would that do?
fragility is measured in time,
space,
and distance-
all you can do is strengthen
what moments you do have*

In my humble opinion, it’s no secret that American movies are becoming as stale as a bag of corn chips left open for 6 months straight. American cinema has unfortunately become swollen with remakes, sequels, reboots, re-imaginings, re-tellings, and re-whatever else you can think of that are as exciting as a tall glass of flat coke. It’s disturbingly sad that we are being thoroughly and soundly outflanked by the increasingly entertaining ranks of foreign films; the shocking number of American flicks that originated overseas is staggering (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, pretty much every Asian horror film ever made, etc). Hollywood is apparently more concerned with quantity as opposed to quality; they pump out more PG-13 schlock than nickelodeon in an attempt to put butts into seats and fill their Hollywood coffers. So to make a long story short (too late), I’ve primarily concerned myself with foreign fare of late. I’ve always had a preference for old films and foreign films anyway, because in my opinion, they were more focused on storytelling, plot, and serious acting chops. Modern American films are slowly bulldozing me over the cinematic edge. Case in point; I recently watched a film called Mesrine: Killer Instinct, a 2008 film about notorious French gangster Jacques Mesrine. Mesrine was one mean mother, and Vincent Cassel played the part of vicious lunatic with delicious style and machismo. Mesrine was legendarily bold, as he made short work of banks (robbing one bank, and then crossing the street to rob another immediately after), eluded the authorities for years, escaped from prison multiple times, and claimed around 40 murders. Part two, Mesrine: Public Enemy #1 was made the same year, and chronicled his later exploits. The films were visually vivid and gritty, with a fearless flair that made the onscreen action that much more grimy and realistic. Mesrine only grew more bloodthirsty and criminally ambitious as the years passed, and director and actor alike were masterfully on point. Veer away from the blandness and predictability of current cinema and immerse yourself head first in some fresh foreign fare.

Mesrine: Killer Instinct

A quilt-
When laid flat, displays a lush,
rich pattern-
crafted with patience, determination,
fortitude, and calm-
a life-
when spread wide,
paints a vivid picture-
equally endured with patience, determination,
fortitude, and calm-
piece by piece, another pattern is tended to and
stitched by the creator-
thread by thread, another design is
nurtured and weaved-
another experience,
another memory-
cultivated like a canvas whose interpretation
is left to those curious enough to examine-
some see what others do not-
no eye reads exactly the same-
each patch tells a story-
relays a tale-
individual to the hand that built it-

And when compiled,
each day,
each week,
each year,
is artfully collected into a collage of
explanation-
a monument of
exploration-
only then does it begin to make sense-
and only then is it able to provide warmth*

Patrick Angel Boston – stillborn, 4/20/1983.

We stand in the same line,
you and I-
yet when I turn to you,
I do not see your face-
but though I do not see your face,
or hear your laughter,
or see your smile,
we remain shoulder to shoulder
through the walk of my days-
you are just a bit higher than me
at the moment-
while you are looking down,
be sure that we’ll be looking up*

“tomorrow is always the same”, today whispered
to yesterday-
and yesterday replied with a faint, flat smile-
leaves glistened in the crisp autumn breeze
as they discussed the significance of
hours and years,
lies and eons,
the past and the present-
“tomorrow is actually what you make it”, today remarked
to yesterday after a long pause,
and both agreed in kind-
tomorrow nodded in acceptance and mentioned
to today that yesterday should not be leaned
upon completely,
for today was the leader of the pack-
tomorrow said, “without you, I would not exist”-
“your efforts influence my outcome”-
but he pointed to yesterday and insisted
“you are equally important”, he said, “because
without you, today would not exist-
without your intentions, he would not react-
without his reaction, what could I reveal?”
“we need each other”-
they all unanimously agreed-
“when we work in tandem, a strand of peace
weaves itself within and between us, and life
ensures that we will stride forward intact”-
they all nodded in agreement*

The mirror will tell you that a child once
lived here-
who undoubtedly gazed in the mirror and
saw an adult that looked just like them-
when the two finally met, many years had passed-
some were added to the child’s-
others taken from the adult-
until they met right in the middle-
at the day’s end lies a solitary moment-
a defining collection of hours, minutes,
and seconds-
etched into the pores of our souls,
and whittled deeply and meticulously
into the architecture of our bones-
at the day’s end lies a moment-
spent lying in bed, replaying the
pacing of the day, frame by frame-
pondering the validity of past decisions-
pondering the necessity of future ones-
until the moment comes when past meets
present,
and youth meets age on middle ground-
it is then that you begin to see clearly
who you once were-
who you are now-
and where you’ll be at the day’s end*

Truth-
in the barest of forms-
truth-
broken down into atoms,
molecules, and particles-
stripped of all language,
stripped of all consequence,
stripped of all apprehension and
fear of shortcoming-
truth-
the internal kind-
loyal to the body-
loyal to the soul-
loyal to the thoughts that cultivate
it-
loyal to the actions that perpetuate
it-
in its purest form, it provides a
sanctuary unrivaled by any-
in its purest form, it speaks to us
and absolves us of all pretense-
in its purest form, it has the strength
to expose our purest form,
and release all that remained in hiding
during its absence-
truth-
break it down into particles, atoms,
and molecules-
strip it of language, consequence,
and apprehension,
and truth still remains-
strip it down and let it build you
back to where you need to be-
take it down to its purest form and let it
mold you-
atom by atom-
molecule by molecule-
it will alter your language-
it will restructure your consequence-
and erase your apprehension-
truth-
in its purest form*