hitchikers

The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy is a funny movie, in a peculiar sort of way. It's based on a real book, written by a man who fell asleep tipsy in a field when he couldn't find a cheap place to stay as he was travelling Europe. Some see it as nihilistic in philosophy. Enough random things happen to the characters as they wander the galaxy to keep one wondering what and why and realise it doesn't really matter after all.

for starters

Lsiten to this, from Penny, telling how she (of all people) got into Christianity:
"...We would eat chocolates and smoke cigarettes and read the Bible, which is the only way to do it, if you ask me...The Bible is so good with chocolate. I always thought the Bible was more of a salad thing...but it isn't. It is a chocolate thing."
~Blue Like Jazz

The Ya-yas continue

Little Altars was not the last installment. There are Ya-Yas in Bloom. I'm not sure if it's worth reading until I get into it.

From the Dust

Is it foolish or admirable to love a bit of land so much that you cling to it in spite of famine, even when it's beating you and giving nothing in return? Why does a farmer keep faith that the rain will come--next Spring? What happens to families attacked by dust, wind, and fire?

Out of the Dust is a story in verse form about the dust bowl in 1934. The poetry stands tall on its own roots; the story is the fruitful branches. Karen Hesse is the story teller.

"Sometimes, while I'm at the piano,
I catch her reflection in the mirror,
standing in the kitchen, soft-eyed, while Daddy
finishes chores,
and I stretch my fingers over the keys,
and I play."

afterwards

It's a rough movie. Artistic, yes. Strange, very much, but highly interesting usage of Time. Not a pretty ending, but neither is it all about the story. Great build up of details to capture the questioning mind. Very good to watch alone. Recommend a cloudy, stormy day.

I'm watching

It's raining. And growing cold. I'm watching a film called Tesseract, in the middle of the afternoon.

part 2

Never give in, never let go, they said,
Hold fast to the life-giving spring,
The family name, the parent stream
Source of all desire, giver of good fish.

Morning passes into day, sun bright shining,
Reveals every shadow in the child's shades of mind,
Now to stumble over the Rock of Offense--
Make way, give up the devious ideas;

The words of men oft repeated
Become form and semblance of truth,
Streams of thought a rioting river,
Carry the child to imagined realms of utopia.