"Onward!"

Since academic oriented blog entries are no longer required, I figured I'd bring my blog back to its criteria circa Summer 2008. But before doing so, let me just look at what this blog has been for me in the past couple of months or so (this has nothing to do with the presentation).

I'm certain no one noticed, but Lethargy in Motion was host of various different headers. Normally just a picture, contents ranged from a still from Taxi Driver to a James Ensor painting. I've written about Jarhead, The Pillowman, House of Leaves (mostly because I had to), the fledgling I came across one rainy Friday, and the stray cat that decided to get stuck on my roof. I was bold, or should I say cheesy, enough to advertise my blog on my skateboard in a nice yellow paint to which I received both favorable, unfavorable, and confused inquiries as to what it meant. The truth is I simply found the phrase nice to say and it proved to be a quirky type of ironic. Lethargy means a lack of energy or enthusiasm. Put that in motion. It's almost a tongue in cheek response to actual productive things others have suggested to put in motion. Granted, I'd never win an election priding myself in the attitude of being lethargic, but I will give you a sense of my overall demeanor and outlook. To save up space, I'm simply very minimal in my living. I have simple joys that consistently make me content. I indulge in some vices, but never harm a soul. No, not even an animal's. I guess what I want to say is that this blog will be open until further notice. It's one's job to be a sponge and a blog is a nice place to ring that sponge's contents out at the end of the day.

A Void

By coincidence, while browsing the shelves of Barnes and Noble, I came across this book. Prior to this discovery, I was oblivious to one Georges Perec. This Frenchman managed to write a few well-respected books before his untimely death in 1982. This was a coincidence because A Void is, like House of Leaves, purposely written differently. While it is not extreme (have you ever needed a mirror handy while reading a book?), A Void is special in one aspect, it is host to one very strange, impressive characteristic: Perec refrained from employing the letter 'e.' Over 300 pages and not one 'e.' Yes. What boggles my mind, personally, is that this was originally written in French. Apparently, Perec omitted what would be considered the French language's equivalent to our 'e.' Fun fact, Spanish translations omit the letter 'a.' Read that Wikipedia article (ignore the academics), it has proper citing. I think they're real... but who knows.

Synecdoche, New York

When you're about to see a movie written by Charlie Kaufman, and in this case, directed as well, you really need to approach it blank and open, wide open. The award winning writer has a tendency to get weird, quirky, and neurotic. For me, he's much like a Woody Allen with the darkness of Kafka. His scripts are often claustrophobic, and generally cynical about human relations. Synecdoche, New York, despite it's length, is faster paced than his previous scripts, possibly because he's behind the camera rather than Gondry or Jonze, who have directed 2 films penned by the writer each. The beginning is cut the quickest, emphasizing his character's lose of time and how, like in many of his scripts, time is ultimately a fragile thing (only 15 minutes in John Malkovich's head causes characters to want more, Joel has time erased altogether when his heart is broken, etc.). But time for Caden, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, is the aiding associate of ailing diseases and constant falling apart. As Caden is seemingly falling apart, death quickly becomes the main theme. Caden, a playwright, wins a MacArthur grant and decides to put on an elaborate play before he dies. Such a story isn't revolutionary, we've all heard of the dying artist with over-the-top ambition. But things start getting Kaufman'esque when he writes himself in, along with everyone he knows. Sooner or later the film starts to get complicated, as expected, and at times you need to trace back to quickly regain understanding. But this is not a hassle. Instead, this digressing and jumping back to the present may be exactly the right approach to such a strangely beautiful script and film. Synecdoche is filled with unlikely characters and this may turn people off at first, but Kaufman balances it out with believable characters and uses both parties' strengths to craft a film that gives you raw "truth," as Caden would have wanted. Heed fair warning, however, this is not a comedy. Nor is it light in its scope. This is Kaufman's darkest script yet, and he was obviously well aware of this when filming. Even the Jon Brion score is darker than usual. I have read the director as saying that it is a "different kind of creepy," so be prepared. It certainly has its sardonic wit and dark humor, which Kaufman crafts so well, but overall, this is a very serious film. The bulk of the story takes place in Schenectady, New York, where the Greek word synecdoche is used as a replacement and pronounced accordingly as a pun. Synecdoche, in Greek, means the "simultaneous understanding," or a term used to describe the understanding of a whole. In essence, this is what Caden, the man behind what turns out to be another world, tries to grasp. Whether or not he does, Kaufman has you exiting the theatre satisfied and somewhat irked, for you know a second, and possibly third viewing is vital to fully grasp the film for yourself.

HOUSE

This entry is not about him. And no, this is not what I think the house would look like. And no, I don't think any of those references were even the slightest bit amusing.

But, seriously, if I could truly conjure up an image of this 'house' in my head, it would look a little something like M.C. Escher's Belvedere.

Skip It

It's not like Tom to skip over words in, well, a book. It's never made much sense. How much could that conclude? Even if he were to conclude something, find a solution, it'd be missing everything he decided to skip. Like the footnotes that seemed real, in contrast to the fake ones, causing him to focus only on those made up by the author. It seemed likely that a footnote that lasted only a sentence or two couldn't reveal much. Meanwhile, footnotes that were obviously made up by Danielewski spanned several lines, sometimes pages, catching Tom's selective eye and gaining his overall attention.

It was common for Tom to skip straight to footnotes in the event of any word foreign to him. For instance, on page 44, upon seeing "Chi dara...," his eyes were already matching the infinite marker ending the sentence with its twin at the bottom, accompanied by a translation. Many other similar instances occurred, as there are numerous passages in several different languages. Is it so wrong for a reader, unfamiliar with 90% of it, to dismiss it's language of origin and simply seek a translation? Translations are comforting to the monolingual reader, like Tom.

And the name rant (pages 64-66). What a headache for Tom. And not for what one would think is the obvious reason (assuming the obvious reason being that such a collage of names is claustrophobic to a reader), but for all that it asked for. Pages 64 to 66 ask Tom to read every name listed and this is frustrating. While he wants to, he fears that doing so without any conclusion or even hint will render useless. That by taking the time to read each name, form an understanding of why they are included, and finally connect each one, seems to be a risk with handling time. Tom scans it briefly. Once more. Notices a few names, Rauschenberg, Gohlke, Mapplethorpe. Photographers, like the footnote says. But how can Tom be sure that they are all real people. Sure, Rauschenberg just recently died and also receives much admiration from Tom whenever he finds himself at MoMA or elsewhere lucky enough to hold his work. And Gohlke, he recently had a show at MoMA. And of course, Mapplethorpe, any photographer and/or Patti Smith fan is familiar with him. But whose to say if this is necessary? Just seems like a waste of leaves.

Upon skipping any piece of the book, Tom feels guilty in a way. He fears that by book's end something will linger, or more importantly, won't.

VIDEO

2001 A Space Odyssey - Hal 9000 part 2
by non-humain

Possibly one of my favorite films of all time, 2001: A Space Odyssey comes to mind whenever I confront the uncanny, whether directly or through other means like art and literature. The subject of the uncanny has come up on 2 separate occasions in the past couple of weeks. The first was at PS1, where an installation there by artist Børre Sæthre immediately reminded me of the great Kubrick film. The second came from House of Leaves. The film depends on uncanny images to instill a unnerving mood throughout, and the same can be said about the novel. As it turns out, upon reading up on Børre Sæthre, I was not surprised to find that he references Space Odyssey and Kubrick as major influences. Coincidentally, House of Leaves goes into a discussion on the uncanny (page 24-25) and even includes Kubrick, the man himself, and two of his films, in the book. I simply posted this video to compare the moods of the book and it, but found that Hal can easily represent an illogical and overpowering 'house.' Admittedly, I am not deep enough in to draw more conclusions, but it's safe to say Kubrick is no stranger to Danielewski and I have stumbled upon a great coincidence in the past couple weeks...

"We all create stories to protect ourselves."

So far, in my opinion, the most affective sentence I've read in the novel, resulting in a blotch of orange highlighter. Please tell me others immediately thought of The Pillowman.

House of Leaves

It WAS an understatement to say this book is weird. But I'm beginning to understand all the "hoorah" surrounding it. I'm assuming that a large amount of the footnotes are phony, am I right? Footnotes are in fact part of the story rather than references or further readings. And the format is clearly unorthodox and I enjoy it. Finally, a quick glimpse of color during a sentence. My eyes thank the word 'house.'

Does anyone find themselves reading two books at once like I do? Well, I'm currently having an affair with Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and, so far, would recommend it. The man spoke on Beck's "The Horrible Fanfare/Landslide/Exoskeleton" with Spike Jonze, could he be any more admirable? Sure he can, he happened to win a TED prize this year. Oh, and wrote the script to Jonze's upcoming film adaptation of Where the Wild Things Are.

Since his name was dropped, starring as Richard Koufey, Spike Jonze:

One Step Forward and One Step Back Only Keeps Us Still

So Obama won. But it appears same sex marriage in California did not. Where are those headlines?

St. Thomas of Assisi

First it was that bird who mysteriously vanished, now there's a kitten outside my window.