Marc
On Seeing Yourself Reflected In A Movie, Or In A Book, Or In A Mirror:
Mirrors lie. We know it. You know it. Everyone knows it. They never show you looking as graceful and charming and gorgeous as you actually are. Mirrors blow. They're not as cool as shadows, or as flattering as puddles. They don't distort your features in a meaningful, acceptable manner. They show you what you look like to the rest of the wold, the same as answering machines tell you how your voice sounds (at least across telephone lines). Can we make a stand here? Can we say that mirrors are worthless? Can we all agree on this point -- so's I can move on?
Thank you.
We watch movies sometimes (obviously some more than others), and we find bits and pieces of ourselves stuck inside the characters and plotlines and props on stage. I see myself as the bike against the tree, wrapped up in a bow, just waiting to be taken out for a spin. I am the books upon the rocks, getting soaked in the rain, wishing that someone would've remembered me. I'm not the transvestite, or the Flock Of Seagulls wanna-be, or the convict with the back hoe, breaking his back in the summer sun. Is it really that difficult to identify with something or someone or (for fuck's sake) anything! in a movie? No. Never. You can always find you. Even in Clockwork Orange -- you know you wanted to be the glass of milk, or the record that he picked up and put back down. It was you. Admit it.
How about books? "Even better" you say. Glad you agree. You want to become the person in the book. You want to smell the air that they're smelling, and taste the life that they are leading, but you know you can't, because its all just print on paper, and you'd like to think that these people existed somewhere, somehow, but you know they probably didn't. Just like you, they are conglomerations of tiny bits and pieces of hundreds, maybe thousands of people, and they'll never be as tangible as you want them to be, and you'll never be satisfied with your own life, because, let's face it, most of us lead pretty mundane, boring, banal existences, but we're content, because we can hang out and watch movies and say things like, "Dude, that dude's totally you" or "that chick wears the same lip gloss as me", and we can open a book and take comfort in the fact that sometimes people do fucked up shit, and then they pay for it, or good people triumph over adversity, or retarded people fall in love, or hungry people get something to eat. Usually, the murderers go to jail. Three cheers for the penal system! ... Wait. No, scratch that.
Just don't lose yourself. That'd be bad, kind of like opening Pandora's Box (those fuckers) or eating an ice cream cone too fast or realizing you lost your favorite pen. I hope this helps you feel better. And don't think that by saying "you" I mean you, because I don't mean anything. I'm probably just indirectly talking to myself anyways.
On Seeing Yourself Reflected In A Movie, Or In A Book, Or In A Mirror:
Mirrors lie. We know it. You know it. Everyone knows it. They never show you looking as graceful and charming and gorgeous as you actually are. Mirrors blow. They're not as cool as shadows, or as flattering as puddles. They don't distort your features in a meaningful, acceptable manner. They show you what you look like to the rest of the wold, the same as answering machines tell you how your voice sounds (at least across telephone lines). Can we make a stand here? Can we say that mirrors are worthless? Can we all agree on this point -- so's I can move on?
Thank you.
We watch movies sometimes (obviously some more than others), and we find bits and pieces of ourselves stuck inside the characters and plotlines and props on stage. I see myself as the bike against the tree, wrapped up in a bow, just waiting to be taken out for a spin. I am the books upon the rocks, getting soaked in the rain, wishing that someone would've remembered me. I'm not the transvestite, or the Flock Of Seagulls wanna-be, or the convict with the back hoe, breaking his back in the summer sun. Is it really that difficult to identify with something or someone or (for fuck's sake) anything! in a movie? No. Never. You can always find you. Even in Clockwork Orange -- you know you wanted to be the glass of milk, or the record that he picked up and put back down. It was you. Admit it.
How about books? "Even better" you say. Glad you agree. You want to become the person in the book. You want to smell the air that they're smelling, and taste the life that they are leading, but you know you can't, because its all just print on paper, and you'd like to think that these people existed somewhere, somehow, but you know they probably didn't. Just like you, they are conglomerations of tiny bits and pieces of hundreds, maybe thousands of people, and they'll never be as tangible as you want them to be, and you'll never be satisfied with your own life, because, let's face it, most of us lead pretty mundane, boring, banal existences, but we're content, because we can hang out and watch movies and say things like, "Dude, that dude's totally you" or "that chick wears the same lip gloss as me", and we can open a book and take comfort in the fact that sometimes people do fucked up shit, and then they pay for it, or good people triumph over adversity, or retarded people fall in love, or hungry people get something to eat. Usually, the murderers go to jail. Three cheers for the penal system! ... Wait. No, scratch that.
Just don't lose yourself. That'd be bad, kind of like opening Pandora's Box (those fuckers) or eating an ice cream cone too fast or realizing you lost your favorite pen. I hope this helps you feel better. And don't think that by saying "you" I mean you, because I don't mean anything. I'm probably just indirectly talking to myself anyways.
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