Saw No Country for Old Men last night – brilliantly realised film. Very Coen brothers in many ways. what was clear to me though is that this was a novel before. And many people forget the power of books and the unbelievable thought and detail that is produced by one person. films take hundreds of people to make. Cormac McCarthy wrote this book/film and wow how great it was. I don’t know if its as great as made out. I loved The Diving Bell and the Butterfly more but that’s a personal film.
Important writers McCarthy, Raymond Carver and Don Delillo (to only quote Americans) should receive greater recognition. These guys are true artists and fundamental to societies and how they view themselves. I was shocked by the lack of coverage Norman Mailer got when he died. It was barely a pause. He, along with the men mentioned above lived when writers seemed to matter, when they told us about ourselves.
I’ve just finished The Outsider by Camus for the third time. still, its brilliant, revealing, funny. Is it our modern attention spans? our apparent lack of time? Writers maybe be older men and women, less glamorous than our actors but they are creators not imitators and should be held up amongst the ultimates of each generation.
9 men died of breast cancer in the state of Victoria in 2002. That’s the last available statistic. So men, feel your breasts. I am working and at the Cancer Council of Victoria. Its a good job, a quiet place. I had a mild hangover, well, was just in a daze. The beers of the previous night lulled my energies but the memories of the conversations and laughs with LP, the confirmation of friendship and mateship kept me smiling.
Its a well-paid job, gentle to the mind. Just what I needed. For I needed it. I also need some more clothes. Its a casual office, run by women with the odd man lurking behind the walls of his cubicle. Its only temporary right now. So am I. So no worries. I’m excited. I’m going to a short film festival this weekend with a travelling friend Madeline.
My Dad was 60 years old last week. 60 years. Over 21,900 days. impressive eh? he’s grown in stature if not in girth. he left that to me. I don’t know what I owe to my father. not exactly. apart from some money, my genes and my education, its difficult to evaluate for I don’t know how. We never know. We just feel.
much to ponder, read, see and savour.