Not Hopeless (Lost in Translation)

Published by Iris in Memorable Scenes,
Published on 01/03/08 at 10:06:28 am using 385 words.

Charlotte: Why do they switch the “R"s and the “L"s here?

Bob: Oh, for yuks. You know, just to mix it up. They have to amuse themselves. Cause we’re not makin’ ‘em laugh.

Charlotte: Let’s never come here again, cause it would never be as much fun.

Bob: Whatever you say. You’re the boss.

Charlotte: I’m stuck. Does it get easier?

Bob: No. Yes. It gets easier.

Charlotte: Oh, yeah? Look at you.

Bob: Thanks. The more you know who you are, and what you want, the less you let… things upset you.

Charlotte: Yeah. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be. You know? I tried being a writer, but… I hate what I write. And I tried taking pictures, but they’re so mediocre, you know. Every girl goes through a photography phase. You know, like horses? You know? Take, uh, dumb pictures of your feet.

Bob: You’ll figure that out. I’m not worried about you. Keep writing.

Charlotte: But I’m so mean.

Bob: Mean’s okay.

Charlotte: Yeah? What about marriage? Does that get easier?

Bob: That’s hard. We used to have a lot of fun. Lydia would come with me when I made the movies, and we would laugh about it all. Now she doesn’t want to leave the kids, and… she doesn’t… need me to be there. The kids miss me, but they’re fine. It gets a whole lot more complicated when you have kids.

Charlotte: Yeah. It’s scary.

Bob: It’s the most terrifying day of your life the day the first one is born.

Charlotte: Yeah. Nobody ever tells you that.

Bob: Your life, as you know it, is gone. Never to return. But they learn how to walk, and they learn how to talk, and… and you wanna be with them. And they turn out to be the most… delightful people… you will ever meet in your life.

Charlotte: Hmm, that’s nice.

Bob: Where’d you grow up?

Charlotte: Um, I grew up in New York, and I moved to Los Angeles when John and I got married. But it’s so different there.

Bob: Yeah, I know.

Charlotte: John thinks I’m so snotty.

Bob: You’re not hopeless.

Lost in Tanslation

The Subway Station Epiphany

Published on 12/27/07 at 08:04:33 am using 955 words.

e·piph·a·ny /ɪˈpɪfəni/ Pronunciation [i-pif-uh-nee]
–noun, plural -nies.

1. (initial capital letter) a Christian festival, observed on January 6, commemorating the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi; Twelfth-day.
2. an appearance or manifestation, esp. of a deity.
3. a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.
4. a literary work or section of a work presenting, usually symbolically, such a moment of revelation and insight.

This is what I saw… - Photograph by Iris W. Hirideyo

I guess what I’m about to relate could be perfectly described as an epiphany (def 3). They’re funny that way, epiphanies… They come to you just as the sun is setting or your day is winding down, just as you’re sure you’ve experienced all a given day had to offer. Or at least that has been my experience.

This one caught me completely unawares. And the minute it began to pervade its smoky way into my brain, I knew that it would take a while for it to shape up into words. I knew I’d have a hard time making a coherent paragraph or two out of it. You could say I feel braver and more adventurous today… even if just as unequal to the task. So bear with me, if you will.

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Recurring Questions

Published by Iris in Random Thoughts,
Published on 12/26/07 at 05:20:11 pm using 43 words.

Remembering and forgetting… which is the right way to go?

How much of remembering entails nitpicking?

How much of forgetting entails denial?

Jogo de Cena

Published by Iris in Inspired by, Movies, Written @ E.U.,
Published on 12/18/07 at 11:19:20 am using 1325 words.

Jogo de Cena

Not being much for documentaries, I was pleasantly surprised by my on-the-spot decision to see Jogo de Cena - right at my first viewing of the trailer. The very second I felt that simple idea take charge of my head and branch out into multiple possible directions. One of those things you just have to see as a final product. When snippets here and there are simply not enough to quench your curiosity.

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Six Degrees of Separation

Published by Iris in Memorable Scenes,
Published on 12/16/07 at 05:06:52 pm using 237 words.

This is one of my two favorite monologues from Six Degrees of Separation. Click here to read the first of the two.

Paul must have looked at all those names in that address book and said “I am Columbus.” “I am Magellan. I will sail into this new world.” I read somewhere that everybody on this planet is separated by only six other people. Six degrees of separation between us and everyone else on this planet. The president of the United States, a gondolier in Venice, just fill in the names. I find that extremely comforting that we’re so close, but… I also find it like Chinese water torture that we’re so close, because you have to find the right six people to make the connection. It’s not just big names, it’s anyone. A native in a rainforest, a Tierra del Fuegan, an Eskimo. I am bound - you are bound - to everyone on this planet by a trail of six people. It’s a profound thought. How Paul found us. How to find the man whose son he claims to be, or perhaps is. Although I doubt it. How everyone is a new door opening into other worlds. Six degrees of separation between us and everyone else on this planet. But… to find the right six people.

A Rom-inspired Blog: The Gift of Laughter

Published on 11/24/07 at 06:08:26 am using 261 words.

I read or heard somewhere recently that it’s easier to make someone cry than it is to make someone laugh. To that I would add, it’s harder still (and profoundly captivating) to make someone laugh past the point of sound, deep into the realm of tears, and leave them smack in the middle of a state of complete, agonizing, doubled-over redness, with no trail of breadcrumbs to show the light at the end of the tunnel to their convulsive body. It’s liberating and cleansing and best of all, laughable. Lovely how laughter begets laughter…

People who can make you laugh till you cry are angels in my book. People who can go from the subject of Click (yes, the Adam Sandler movie - one of the many I haven’t seen, save the couple of un-Sandler ones) and in ten minutes’ time take you through Run Lola Run, Saramago, hepatitis, the unwiseness of lending (despite its occasional ‘medical’ benefit) and India, only to end up recounting the painfully funny episode of tangled up Indians in a subway car at 6pm on a Friday… have got to be human treasures.

Thanks for the Saramago recommendation, CD-Rom! (It’s on my reading list) and THANKS for the agonizing, doubled-over, tearful redness (You’ll never know how much I needed it) :D

Click here to read the ‘Indians-tangled-up-in-a-subway-car’ story in its original Portuguese.

Currently shattering window panes with a rendition of…
Elton John - Tiny Dancer

The Nobility of Acting

Published by Iris in Inspired by, Random Thoughts, People,
Published on 11/24/07 at 05:56:35 am using 122 words.

John Spencer - R.I.P.

It persuades an audience to confront its judgmental nature (be it first or second) and reconsider it. It introduces an audience to something or someone it may be inclined to judge, to look down on, to think little of, and expands on it. Tells you more, displays in full view not just the act but the feeling that led to the thought that led to the path that led to the act - focuses on the details. And a detail is often the common denominator. Small enough to require some effort to pinpoint but ubiquitous enough to be largely identifiable once pinpointed.

Remembering NORTHERN EXPOSURE (Northern Lights)

Published by Iris in Memorable Scenes,
Published on 11/16/07 at 09:40:09 am using 162 words.

Goethe’s final words: “More light.” Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that’s been our unifying cry, “More light.” Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlelight. Neon, incandescent lights to banish the darkness from our caves to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier’s field. Little tiny flashlights for those books we read under the covers when we’re supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet.” “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” “Lead kindly, light amid the encircling gloom, lead thou me on, the night is dark and I am far from home, lead thou me on.” “Arise, shine, for thy light has come.” Light is knowledge, light is life, light is light.