Writing it out: Turbulance, nothing major.
September 12, 2009
A recent conversation piqued my interest and 2nd viewing of 500 Days of Summer. Yes. Second viewing.
Upon first viewing, I was astounded at how resonant the pain in the film was. Really fresh from a break up, watching this film in tandem with Paper Heart allowed me to scar appropriately. After Paper Heart’s conversational, mockumentary structure, I became a tad critical of western perceptions of love – the film became a forum for the carnivalesque qualities of love. Nothing too deep cutting. 500 Days on the other hand, had my heart slowly gripping the cavern of my chest and up out of my mouth to give me the most painful of embraces. I wasn’t a wreck, but I wasn’t golden either.
500 Days achieved catharsis.
Relief. Repose. Repeat.
A second viewing, only warranted by a conversation of memory and love, and a humorous comparison of real life to cinema. Was I Tom? Was I Summer?
The films structure is a smorgasbord of style by the music video director Marc Webb. Webb pulled no punches when it came to jarring and pulling the viewer into the seduction of misery. From the opening credit sequence of the home films of Tom and Summer, to the comical nods to world renown directors-Webb wanted your heart, all of it.
A contemporary set up for the chic designer also permitted huge liberties in creating an aesthetically flat film. Shapes and lines from the buildings, illustrations, Ikea, and right down to the casting of Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel. The flat qualities of the film wasn’t a bad thing – Webb used that quality to maximize the appearances and conversations on love. It made things simple, obvious.
Expectation. Reality. Repeat.
Webb used the jumps in time marked by the scrolling days to match up with an universal understanding of love and love lost. Most folks remember the best, and re-live those moments. The moment we think heartbreak is over, we’re triggered by our loneliness. Our hearts our front loaded in way we’re fixed on pain, and healing looks like something we’d never expect.
This movie isn’t too deep. Memory and love are themes immemorial. Unfortunately, the 2nd viewing only revealed more of the flaws that I chose to ignore the first time.
The interspersed interruptions at the peaks of pain only avoided the potentially boring mud-wallowing of self-pity and anger. Webb skirted this trap with flourishes that are contemporary versions of Rob Reiner’s nondiegitc interviews in When Harry Met Sally, except Webb made it for a generation of both the saccharine-indulgent and culture snobs. Then again, I don’t think Webb had that capacity available to him in the film, he’s music video director, they cater to attention spans the size of mosquitoes (annoyance then lingering).
I had no doubt about the chemistry between Tom and Summer. What I did doubt was their individual performances. The quick quip to Tom alluding to Goethe’s Young Werther, and even Zooey’s attempt at Anna Karina was a bit too superficial, the story only made it clear that Tom and Summer couldn’t sustain the projection of love and it’s exploitative nature, unlike the performances in The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant. Then again, the film wasn’t necessarily trying to achive that kind of depth.
It’s still a fun film. I laughed. I cried. I cursed her name. I said, “I’m sorry.”
In this spectrum of Tom and Summer, most folks lie between. Tom and Summer are the same person, just at different times in their lives, and that’s okay, the story was banking on that.
At the end of the film I asked myself if I was Tom in my last relationship.
No, I wasn’t.
Was I Summer?
No, I wasn’t.
Am I Otis Redding?
Maybe.
Reset: Again?!
August 24, 2009
I’m sorry, or maybe not.
- Ms. Monica Wong, I’m sorry. This is my apology to you, since you’re radio silence leaves some desire for compassion… Mea culpa, mea culpa
- I continue to work on a documentary that challenges all of my notions of storytelling, business, and politics involved in state executions, and forgiveness.
- I continue to work on a long term project that is more hang out and trust building time than actual production.
- My friends have been present in my life again because they can be, and in less obvious ways I’ve asked them to be there.
- I’m learning to love myself more, it’s sappy, but true. Think about it.
- I’m going to New York with the purpose of using anonymity as a strong suit. With camera in tow, 10 rolls of film, a sound recorder, and most importantly some resolve and humility I hope to understand myself better by understanding strangers better.
(This is where I should have posted some YouTube video or poem to leave you with a tone or some kinda mantra-evoking material, but I couldn’t come up with anything that wasn’t pretentious – in fact, this inclusion of this thought is pretentious enough eh?)
Week 6, Day 4: Whoa… lazy day.
May 1, 2009
Day 4 of Week 6 was a strained 6 mile run completed in 47m and 30s.
I sqeezed out the run on the treadmill on 3.5 hours of sleep. Ugh.
While I ran I thought:
1) In light of watching X-men Origins: Wolverine , realized that the whole Marvel franchise is a cycling of Greek tragedies. It’s not a bad thing, but it explains all of the mommy/daddy issues, self-awareness against the concepts of nationhood, of humanity and why many are so resonant with audience (note: resonant does not imply amazing).
2) I thought why the hell was I running. Lack of sleep, compromises my immune system, making me susceptible to catch something.
3) I’ve been seeking out more and more photographic ghost-mentors (folks that I look to for guidance without ever breaching anonymity), and am taking a look at Tony Remington’s, Alan Dejecacion’s, and Sean Marc Lee’s Flickr accounts. These folks are more accessible to me, somewhat easier to contact, and they interact with spaces and bodies that are more familiar.
4) I wish I practiced my writing so I could write like Jay.
5) (Yes)
Week 6, Day 3: Easy does it.
April 29, 2009
Went on the treadmill again to save myself from the cold, biting winds outside.
Did 6 miles in 50m 10s.
Jumped on the weights for another 20minutes.
Some thoughts going through my head at the time:
1) Glad that I finally figured out why my Pentacon-Six was giving me these:
I only found out after shooting another roll with Monica that the shutter wasn’t completely shutting, so that there was a streak of overexposure/light leak in the shot (See the shot of my nephew, and of the Lozada side of the family). In the slower shutter speeds, or later in the roll, the shutter would actually get stuck open – which explains why my dad and sister look ghostly in the last shot.
Sure this is an arugment for the digital side, but again there’s a value in the craft, mechanics, and work that’s still present in shooting film, especially from older cameras. Perhaps it’s a dogmatic, old-school way of practice, but diligence always has it’s benefits, and for the most part, it’s worked in my favor.
2) On that tip, I’ll finally be expecting this lovely in the mail:
Can’t wait. Can’t wait.
3) I’m driving down to Los Angeles and will be around from about May 6 – 8 to support a 2004 project entitled, ‘down so bad, looking up.’ It was my 2004 effort with Visual Commmunications Armed With a Camera Fellowship. ‘down so bad..’ is a short experimental chronicle that features a fictional manong who found his voice with a bottle of whiskey, and Bukowski. I had five minutes, and really pushed the structure and narrativity. Of course, it’s disjunctive, odd… questionable. But it’s sincere and aware of itself — I don’t know what that means, but I put some effort in it, and got some strong support so come out if you’re in the hood! Oh, props to Muni Zano who acted in it, Terry Kosel, Jay Perez, and John Dion for listening to my rants, reviewing my scripts, or even rolling with me to Los Angeles (remember how we ended up volunteering Terry?).
Day 14: Running on Fumes
March 12, 2009
Day 14, Week -1; March 12, 2009 @ 600AM
3 Miles, Treadmill – 24m 05sec
Threw in a rough workout after the running. Running on less than four hours of sleep becuase of work, but the physical strain was much needed to reset my spirits for the day.
San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival 2009 starts today!
Support!
I was DP on the short One For Three, a short we shot in the sweltering hawt bastion of suburbia known as Fremont. Good times, if you can get into the program it’s one of the stronger ones in the shorts series.
See y’all there…
Day ???: Summary
March 10, 2009
I’ve been running. Just haven’t been updating. :/
Day 8, Week -3; February 26, 2009
Ran 5 miles; Saw From Monument to Masses and a bunch of old friends. FMTM is truly cinematic. I’d like to work with them to do a doc on their tour, but I’m sure somebody’s already got them covered that way.
Day 9, Week -3; February 28, 2009
Ran 6 miles – Up and down Twin Peaks. Anyone else try that yet?? It’s not a bad hill run via the paved road, to make it challenging one should run up and down the paths and get their knees beat. Sight was loverly, I probably saw you down there either with loved ones, or chillin’ by yourself.
Day 10, Week -2; March 2, 2009
Ran 4.0 miles
Day 11, Week -2; March 3, 2009
Ran 3.5 miles. Ran outside. Along Embarcadero, through Chinatown. I hit up the Manilatown Heritage Foundation space and saw Jerome R. and Jose T. Jerome has been holding classes there and is working on something pretty awesome-like, it’s top secret, so I’m not at liberty to say other than it involves memory and space.
Day 12, Week -2; March 4, 2009
Ran 5 miles @ 7:30PM. Treadmill running.
Day ?, Week -1; March 9, 2009
Ran 2.5 miles @ 5:30AM; I chased the moon, and ran from it. It was cold, felt like 45, ice down my lungs.
Ran 3.0 miles @ 2:30PM; I walked with Jerry for a bit, asked about his health. Ran up embarcadero, and through Chinatown.
This morning I woke up with a stronger cough. Thanks.
Aside from the continuing regimen, I’ve been watching these movies:
Played at Cinequest. It’s about a young man regaining his identity after being imprisoned for 10 years due to his political involvement in a failed Turkish rebellion. Set against a forested backdrop, the film works to isolate his anguish. The lead heads to the city often and falls for a sullen prostitute. Their dynamic is the familiar Holy-Mary-Mother-Whore relationship. I was on the fence about it, however, the cinematography was on-point, which narrative nods to Dr. Zhivago, Autumn is still an honest attempt at never being quite the same ever again.
Also played at Cinequest. Films an ambitious, and indulgent road tour on the existential Argentinian male. Traversing rural, and abandoned landscapes, the geographies match their mutual protagonists. The writing is a romp, and the direction is committed in its hubris, with a voice-over film hitting a little over four hours. Yes, four hours.
Also played at Cinequest. Caught this one here because the SFIAAFF screening is sold out. Y’all are missing out if you don’t get to catch this film. I’ve always held in high esteem films about falling apart, implosion, dissolution, and eventual rebirth-malformed as it may become. This film is absolutely that. You’ll love the forays into the nuclear family webbing becoming undone, and the butterfly that emerges – and yes, I probably ruined the film for you at that point… not really. Watch it whereever you catch it.
Caught this at 4AM. I only got through 2 chapters of the comic, and a couple of articles, so I had a superficial understanding. Loved it. You need to watch it, Moore purist or not. If you’re a hater, please tell me what the last comic film that seemed to be hermenutic AND hermetic all at once (pretentious, of course).
I’ve been filling myself with this too:
I’m not the only one diggin this ish:
Paz.
Day 6: Scurry to a better time
February 19, 2009
Day 6, Week -4 / 10:30AM
3 miles on the treadmill
Completed in 21m 04s
Peak speed at 9.0 mph for 6 min.
Yesterday’s hill training left me with sore calves. The cold air also exacerbated the remnant of my congestion, so it was pretty rough this morning, but I ultimately decided to push through because of breakfast — I helped myself to tater tots, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a bagel. To additionally test my tolerance/endurance I successfully completed the 3 miles just over 21 minutes.
Speaking of eating, I’ve been munching and munching on trail mixes, dried fruits, trying trying TRYING to eat less foods of the deep fried variety, but it’s so dang difficult to unlearn years and years of eating based on what your parents could make available for you. Oddly enough, preparation for veggies as meals in raw or steamed form is much more simple than throwing stuff in a big pot o’ oil. Nowadays, I’m better about it, every once in a while I’ll eat up at In-N-Out, but I miss those days of Fried Chicken with Jufran and White Rice… man, we used to eat with our hands it was so good! Currently, to trick and treat myself, I often eat at Fresh Choice.
I like going by myself, as bringing another person is often embarrassing for myself because of my eating technique (which I will refrain from going into). Additionally, going by yourself means a maximized opporutnity to observe and people watch.
Yesterday’s evening at Fresh Choice brought out family after family. A couple of bachelors like myself were also present, didn’t notice any women eating by themselves. Most of the bachelors decided to not face the crowds and immerse themselves in their reading materials (I too, brought some homework to work on in between trips to the salad bar).
Another musing I often have is how overloaded the salad plates end up being. It’s a trick to think that a plate overflowing with ’salad’ could be so ‘healthy.’ To each their own though, I should talk, if one to observe my template meal they’d scoff and pat me in the soon-to-be-full stummy.
Mid-meal I was interrupted by large middle-aged father of two, who inquired if I was an old co-worker named Dennis. Apparently, it had been years, but I managed to carry very similar physical characteristics of Dennis. I politely said no, but this didn’t seem to convince his son, who kept stealing glances my way. I imagined what Dennis could possibly do as I peered over at the gentleman’s table, there was a large walkie-talkie sitting there, and his equally sizable son of a young-20s also sported one, but both were in plainclothes and their voices were pleasant enough to not conform to any kind of police or authoritative figure. Could Dennis have been a colleague at a sewage plant? Could Dennis have worked in the control tower at SFO? I’ll never know, and I should have asked.
In fact, I will ask at this point. For most of my life, I’ve been mistaken for someone else. My current doppelganger is this fellow. In college, I kept getting called Val. I’m stopped enough in the street by people to pick up their conversations where their friend (whom I resemble), left off. It was annoying for a bit, but I finally succumbed to not having a continguous identity that is R.J. Lozada (do we ever have a contiguous identity though?). At this point, as a fun project, I think I’ll inquire further next time I’m asked if I’m someone else. I should have asked what they thought of Dennis, what impressions he left, and why he thought they lost contact… Not that I would then absorb Dennis’ narrative, but it be nice to leave with some kind of connect with a stranger, and I’m trying to be about that more often…
Day 4: Swimming on two feet
February 15, 2009
Day 4, Week -5 / 10:15AM
10 miles, Camp Sawyer Trail off of Millbrae
Completed in approximately 1hr 30m
In the rain. With Ninoy Brown of FOBBDeep.com
I enjoy running by myself, but I would like to run with more people, often. When I caught wind of Ninoy Brown training for a half-marathon, I jumped at the opportunity to accompany him on one of his long runs.
‘Rain or Shine’ he said.
It was raining. Pretty hard I might add. I got up this morning thinking how drenched we were going to get, and wondering if a cold would follow thereafter, I wasn’t going to miss out on another day of training, much less flake on a friend so I layered, even brought a garbage bag in case I wanted to cover myself up in it, and headed to the Sawyer Camp Trail. Full of sloping, rolling hill, mossy trees, large bodies of water, and deer, the trail provided a nice canvas for the sounds of our feet ambling, leaves rustlings, frogs croaking, and lungs wheezing.
Mr. Brown and myself were at a comfortable enough pace to tackle the 9 – 10 miles and still talk about work, and running around the world.
Running that path alone is great, I imagine attaining a zen-like trance that would most likely carry me miles and miles, but pairing up to encourage and marvel at scenerery wasn’t so bad either.
I skipped out on yesterday’s run to recoup from the Center for Asian American Media’s kickoff party, and to make sure I attended the screening of Manilatown is in the Heart: Time Travel with Al Robles. The screening was at the Koret Auditorium at the SF Public Library. It played to a modestly attended group comprised of some veteran cultural and community workers. Al Robles’s birthday was on that day too, so after the screening we had birthday cake.
The film was a mish-mash of time periods with Al’s presence being featured. Al’s poetry and essence was mostly captured on the film. I was more impressed with the breadth of material that Choy had accumulated over time. I have a mild addiction to watching formless footage, or time capsule footage — it feels mostly unadulturated, and sincere in it’s emanations of the qualities, and Choy’s footage of the manongs in Delano was no exception. There was no reason to, but I teared at viewing that footage. There’s a quality of continued humble and modest fraterity and love between the manongs… that their solo efforts to make a life in the United States isn’t in vain.
I’m bothered that Al doesn’t get the recognition he deserves. The labor of love that is asking and listening, documenting, and advocating for the senior populations is a thankless task, but it’s necessary for the well being of any group of people…
I’ll stop this rant for now because it isn’t getting anywhere… but here’s a poem by Al Robles…
|
THE STRUGGLE OF THE MANONGS
This place of the manongs This place of Pilipino farm workers Showed me where to follow Found imprints of Vera Cruz’s foot And hands in the trees, in The grapes in the soil Deep in Agbayani Village Beneath the trees grapes fallen We begin the long struggle The long jouney I awoke to the croaking sound Of fighting cocks Behind manong Candio’s house And soon began heading toward The backyard The shrill sound clearing my mind Circling around the treetops Like ravens Following the early summer morning Each step I took got deeper into the past Of the manongs It led us far, father across The road, the beginning of resistance The beginning of revolutionary struggle Autumn midnight In Agbayani Village The spirit of the Pilipino farmworkers. Finds its own way Their struggle with the Chicanos Is to go to battle For the poor farmworkers There is fire in the vineyards, In the fields on the road There is fire in the vineyards To give…we must walk with the Pilipino farmworkers Ablaze in summer cool in winder Anytime, man! Anytime, man! And your face will fear nothing Before the grapes ripened again We will rise up like fire Get rid of the rich white grower’s greed Voices on fire rise up! |
(a poem about Philip Vera Cruz)
No disheveled weathered grass-minds Lay dead around the rich grower’s ground Who will touch us Who will cripple us We will not sit still New struggles spring up bursting Flows over the fields Thunder cannot move us Let us all go to Delano Deep in Agbayani Village Let the fish swim deeper Across the fields Into the mouth of the manongs On arrival I saw poets cried down the grapes Our conversation Our love of the Pilipino Chicano farmworkers We still come back to Delano We still live by our struggle We still live by our poetry of resistance In the dark hours across the Delano vineyards The struggle against the white grower’s goes on I know the things of the manongs I know the lives in deep melancholy dreams Empty pockets soaked in old weathered work clothes Yet their life of struggle belongs to us I saw manong cardac and manong Willie And manong Candioand manong LaCuesta All of them…all of them… Circling around us Laying out things of the past Marks of brown feet Hidden dreams and memories still fermenting Whispering overhead shadows darken The face and chill the heart of poets
© Al Robles |
Day 3: Form and Function
February 13, 2009
Day 3, Week -5 / 5:30PM
6 miles from door to door, round Lake Merced
Completed in ??m ??s
Peak speed at ??? mph for ? min.
[I forgot my watch]
Good morning. It was Lincoln Day yesterday. Started off with Obama’s speech, and went to the gym, I went against running because I wasn’t fully awake, and not about to faint on the treadmill.
I did end up running at the end of the day though. The sun stayed out just a bit longer, but it was still cold.
I took careful consideration of my form. I try to integrate best practices when it comes to running, paying mind to form – I pretend that I’ve got a string at the top of my head and it’s being pulled by the sun, my shoulders pulled back, not too far though. There’s an optimal range of posture that seems awkward, but i’m sure is familiar to marching band geeks.
I’m also mindful of footstrike, making sure not to slam on my heel at too rough of an angle, as I know from long runs that such an angle affects your joints and your lower back.
I also made sure not to exert myself on the last .25 mile too hard, as I knew I’d catch cold–if I let the cold air get to deep in my lungs, but I’m not even sure if that’s a true thing, I just pretend that it is…
Felt relieved that I worked my body twice yesterday. The run was a nice cap to the day, as I purchased an individual membership at the California Academy of Sciences (I can take another person in with me for free, wanna come along?). The one most amusing thought I had out there was the abundance of folks with $1000 – $4000 worth of digital photo equipment taking photos. In fact, it seemed bizarre altogether that so many people would take such photos, and for what memories? I suppose posterity can’t be all that bad, but it doesn’t seem memorable to pick up a photo of an Alligator Gar behind glass, well, unless you happened to jump in the aquarium soon thereafter. I’m not bitter that I don’t have that equipment in tow, it just seems ludicrous.
I enjoyed the penguins, the jellyfish, and listening to the short narratives from all of those involved in the preservation of the Philippine Reefs…
I made sure to hit up the rainforest dome, I nearly teared at the sight of several butterflies trying to fly out, and the others that lay dead. Of course my imagination got the best of me, as I attempted to draw a plan to head over to Madagascar to document conservationist groups.
I also hit up the Planetarium and realized that whole fiasco and space is the best place to fall asleep. It was better than a car ride in a baby’s car seat. Even the hosts’ voice was very soothing. But you figure all of its got to be that way to prepare you, ease you into the idea that this world will end, but we have options, and the god that you once thought you may have understood, may not even really be the only god, or be a god at all… all my pains and gripes were washed away temporarily at the prospect that we are not alone, and everything you thought was a big deal, is literally, not a big deal. Wait, that’s not to dismiss the things we are passionate about, but it’s a good model just to recall when you aren’t at your best.
In a final effort to figure out what brings me joy in my life for that day, I thought about hitting up Amoeba and picking up the Menahan Street Band’s album, but since I had gutted my bank account for most of that day, I abstained. I figure it would be best to just practice on my trumpet and all it a night…but I didn’t, I went to Manilatown’s pre-V-day festivities. A small group of Manilatown supporters had their fill of sweets and booze, poetry, salsa dancing, and good company. I left buzzing to the comforts of my bed (geez, sounds pitiful).
Now it’s Friday the 13th, and I botched things up with a V-Day partner earlier this week so we’ll see how this day goes. Hopefully the CAAM, SFIAFF kick off party will provide fertile ground for me to come out shining! Here’s to good friends and libations!
Where have I been?
November 10, 2008
I ask myself that everyday…
In the meantime, enjoy this humble video post.
