evening
Still meeting various computer and battery charger or outlet converter troubles, but we're back online. It sounds as if I'm running some kind of radio station--we're back on air!--and I kind of like that. By "we," I guess I mean Nojay and me--maybe we could run a radio program (if it were a short one).
It's Saturday, early evening: sun still spreading a dulled glow on the western faces of Bangkok's buildings. Having sent out my 6th and probably final letter of the week yesterday, I'm only now trying to pick up on the e-mails. One down... And, of course, there's the grading. Two and a half weeks of this set of students to go... and then there'll be the final examinations.
Last night, Nojay and I got out into the "high-so" (high society) part of Bangkok and saw a nice film collage--various directors' short film sketches of Paris. It had a lovely buttery way of melting moods and various relationship issues together--so the complexity of humanity felt real and infinite. Sometimes I say things like this and I realize how meaningless these things can be without some tangible examples. Such is often the way of poetry without images, too--maybe it sounds nice, but means very little (unless, some would argue, the sound is the primary focus of the matter--and the sound itself is serving to push the meaning of the poem).
And, for film, well there are so many riches to notice--visual, dialogue, landscape, emotional, body language--the language of gestures and movements--accompaniment, etc. And I guess those moments, those riches which seem so inarticulable are the most gorgeous to me. We were conversing about the last director's bit--a picture of a middle-aged, overweight American woman, a mail-carrier, who took a French class and decided to travel to Paris on her own. Her story, because she seemed to live with a constant thread of loneliness, was most melancholy to me. Because I felt that, even her hopefulness at the end was going to be a struggle to maintain. Maybe she (the real life character--for a version of her exists somewhere, here and in every walk of life) would be successful in staying happy... but so much was below the surface of her outward expression--like so much in life is. These are the things we are so afraid to speak out. I guess that's what's most saddening to me... the sadnesses--or even the happinesses--that we cannot express and so cannot fully share.
My battery will die again--guess I must go. Apologies.
It's Saturday, early evening: sun still spreading a dulled glow on the western faces of Bangkok's buildings. Having sent out my 6th and probably final letter of the week yesterday, I'm only now trying to pick up on the e-mails. One down... And, of course, there's the grading. Two and a half weeks of this set of students to go... and then there'll be the final examinations.
Last night, Nojay and I got out into the "high-so" (high society) part of Bangkok and saw a nice film collage--various directors' short film sketches of Paris. It had a lovely buttery way of melting moods and various relationship issues together--so the complexity of humanity felt real and infinite. Sometimes I say things like this and I realize how meaningless these things can be without some tangible examples. Such is often the way of poetry without images, too--maybe it sounds nice, but means very little (unless, some would argue, the sound is the primary focus of the matter--and the sound itself is serving to push the meaning of the poem).
And, for film, well there are so many riches to notice--visual, dialogue, landscape, emotional, body language--the language of gestures and movements--accompaniment, etc. And I guess those moments, those riches which seem so inarticulable are the most gorgeous to me. We were conversing about the last director's bit--a picture of a middle-aged, overweight American woman, a mail-carrier, who took a French class and decided to travel to Paris on her own. Her story, because she seemed to live with a constant thread of loneliness, was most melancholy to me. Because I felt that, even her hopefulness at the end was going to be a struggle to maintain. Maybe she (the real life character--for a version of her exists somewhere, here and in every walk of life) would be successful in staying happy... but so much was below the surface of her outward expression--like so much in life is. These are the things we are so afraid to speak out. I guess that's what's most saddening to me... the sadnesses--or even the happinesses--that we cannot express and so cannot fully share.
My battery will die again--guess I must go. Apologies.
posted by B-Go at
4:53 AM
1 Comments:
i loved reading this. those paris short films would've been cool to see, as would the high society part of town. i loved your description of the nuances of people and such, unspoken things we see in film. it occurs to me now it's a lot like great people watching AND it's just allowed, that's almost what it's for in a basic way. i am sad right now and lonely and i wish you were closer so we could talk because i am realizing it's been far too long since we did talk (even via email or anything). so i wonder how you are. when do you come back? it's been awhile that you're there, are you only there a year? if you even come back here?
By
strunny, At
9:56 AM
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home