varying degrees of light

It's interesting, if not completely unsettling or hilarious, to compare the understanding of evil I have now to then, and earlier back when. Back when Satan was a scapegoat, but unattached to any actual practice in the world because such practices didn't exist. Keep in mind this was very far back and, for that matter, God was a hero for most things because most things were good. And I ran around home, school, church - the weekly routine - merrily spewing what I was taught to recite. When I was a bit older, I found a cigarette in my house and remember my spine immediately chilled and, as dramatic as it seems, there was no sound. I must have been eleven or twelve when I locked myself in the bathroom, set it on my lips, looked in the mirror and actually went dizzy from the image. Total badass, I know. Nicotine, alcohol, sex, swearing - all inexcusable then. Black and white and that was good enough. I went to public school after sixth grade, after that first innocent encounter with the cigarette, and made friends with the greasy, hacky-sacking stoner kids. Their parents had complicated, strained relationships; they smoked weed when they could; smoked cigarettes aggressively and (talked about how they) had sex every weekend. I was friends with them up until we moved to Iowa . They knew I didn't smoke or drink or sleep around and, somehow, we were pretty good friends. I'm older now, and my understanding of evil shifts to what silences me during the day and keeps me up at night - none of those earlier vices even comes close to the list now, but it must have been easier living an existence with such specific targets. Is nicotine a stronger addiction than greed? Corruption? Injustice? Apathy? Fear? What I'm noticing is that my initial understanding of sin, of DONTs, involved vague but specific-seeming rules. Don't lie, cheat, fight or ask questions. From there it was don't smoke, don't drink, don't have sex and don't talk about it. (For the record, family, I'm not having sex.) I'm not afraid that my current roster of evils will "phase out" into yet another list, and that to another etc. but it's an unsettling idea to consider when you go about your day, meeting with people, reading about what's happening and hearing stories. And it's necessary, I think, to being to understand what's been built in your existence to stay up at night to wrestle with.

---

Jer - I saw Annie Hall recently too. Had a strong New York/Seinfeld conversation energy to it, I thought.

Dee - Scott and Margaret and Dan recommended Robertson Davies to me on various occasions. I have to yet to do so. I saw 'The Girl with the Pearl Earring" in a used bookstore today. Really, don't read it?

Joel - Persepolis the film is fantastic - lovingly drawn (by hand). I'm sure the graphic novel is as well. I don't want to fight your family, but it seems you want me to. So... SM was a waste of talent, craft, preparation and lots of money.

Up (2009) - Carl loses his balloon when Ellie whirls around and scares him in her clubhouse. They go upstairs to see it across the dilapidated room and she pushes him to cross the single plank and retrieve it. Halfway there, he falls through and CUT TO: ambulance wailing down the street CUT TO: Carl, heavily cast in plaster, in bed and Ellie comes to visit. Then there's a montage of them getting married, buying the dilapidated house, fixing it up, going on picnics, thinking of children, sharing their dreams, growing old, getting sick, dying, leaving. In all seriousness, it could have ended there.

The Hangover (2009) - The lines from the trailers are still funny in the film. That rarely happens. Not a great film, but an OK one and a really good time for guys who dream about debauchery and hedonism in Vegas with their pals and having Meat Loaf sing at their wedding... which is most of us.

El Espinazo del diablo or The Devil's Backbone (2001) - His awesome majesty, Guillermo del Toro's "brother" twin film to Pan's Labyrinth (2006) is another story that explores supernatural notions against a very harsh, very visceral, war-torn Spain. "What is a ghost?" is the first line of the film and it reverberates with the characters as they struggle with friendship and self-worth (orphans), passion and responsibility (caretakers, teachers) and anger from their past. Though not as crisp or beautiful as Pan's Labyrinth (or Hellboy, for that matter), it's an engaging, violent and menacing film. A film that makes you hate the antagonist as much as this does is one sign, among many, of effective storytelling. It's a personal and complex hatred and it's thrown right back at you.