7:12 pm - Thursday, Aug. 15, 2002
(The first part of this is stuff I meant to get into my last entry, but couldn't, due to continued Diaryland glitchiness. Or maybe it was "operator error", I don't know. But anyway...)
Regarding finding that combination lock...
I also found myself wondering about “synchronicity”, which was something Bill S. and I had talked about a little bit the night before; What were the odds I’d be needing a lock (For my next bike), and a lock would drop on the road right in front of me? (I ended up buying one of those Kryptonite “u-locks”, but still...)
Well, it was months overdue, but the last installment of The Dark Knight Strikes Again finally arrived at the bookstore recently (This was the long-awaited sequel to the groundbreaking Dark Knight Returns, a Batman graphic novel).
I’d been thoroughly unimpressed with the first two installments, but was holding out hope that the last one would give me the same visceral thrill the original story had.
No such luck.
The first graphic novel, in four installments, was thrilling, and actually kind of moving as well. I won’t bore you with the details, since I doubt there are lots of “Batman” fans in my “readership”, but basically, the premise was Batman-as-gunfighter, coming out of retirement “to set things right”. The climax of the story was a face-off with Superman ( Who in this story, set in a near-future, is basically the #1 law enforcement agent and government tool), who’s been ordered to “rein in” Batman, a vigilante more concerned with “justice”--and vengeance--than certain legal niceties.
This recent story has nothing so epic. There wasn’t a single scene in the new story that had any real kick for me (And this is going to sound stupid to people who
aren’t particularly "Batman" fans, and who associate "Batman" with Adam West and the old 60s tv show, but the first story had an emotional element that the new one totally lacked).
And the ending, like the ending of Hannibal--The book, not the movie--actively annoyed and angered me; In both cases, I felt like it was the author's big
joke on their audience-- “Oh, you want more of this stuff? Well here ya go...”--As if they were angry at the audience for wanting more of the stories they'd long since lost interest in.
Well, this afternoon I went to the movies, parked my bike, and it didn't get stolen.
(I was pretty paranoid too, but what was I ya gonna do, not ride my bike anymore, except to and from work? How much fun would that be?)
I went back to the Vista, on Hollywood, to see Signs, the movie I'd planned to see week-before-last, before things went tragically awry.
And in this man's opinion, it was very, very good. The ending felt kind of "off" to me somehow--Maybe it was just too direct, after spending most of the movie being creeped out by atmosphere and suggestion--but I was really into it. And the kids in it were great.
(I think it's interesting; In each of Shymalan's movies, he has, as a lead, a man with a huge, melancholy weight pressing down on him. It makes me wonder if a certain director has some issues he's trying to work through...)
After the movie, I found myself wondering who I'd seek out in case of alien invasion or similar catastrophic event, and I was a little bummed to realize even Cary and Kay would probably be too far away to get to in an emergency, let alone Mark & Jane; As of this writing, if the aliens came calling, I'd basically be on my own.
Another imaginary scenario that's been on my mind lately comes from my recent reading of The Lovely Bones (Which you should definitely read if you haven't already. It's really good).
After reading the book, I wondered, "What would my heaven be like?" ("Heaven" is someplace I've never given that much thought to, since I never figured on ending up there anyway).
I was very surprised, when considering this question; The very first image that popped into my mind wasn't acting with Spencer Tracy, or dating Marilyn Monroe, or anything along those lines; The first image that sprung to mind was a huge table of people, eating and laughing and having a good time.
In heaven, I wouldn't be alone so much. There would be lots of big meals and parties and outings, and I'd never feel awkward or apart from the group. I'd never be in a group of people wishing I was by myself (Which happens to me sometimes), and I'd never be alone wishing there was someone to talk to or hang out with (Which happens to me much more often).
In heaven, I'd have a family. I'd have a family I came from, and I'd have a family of my own. And we would all love each other very, very much.
There wouldn't be all this wrestling with "feelings", or at least all this wrestling with feeling bad. I'd feel good physically, I'd feel on top of things mentally and emotionally, and I'd basically be the person I wanted to be, but never quite managed to be, on Earth.
In heaven, there wouldn't be any boredom. Whether with people or by myself, there would always be something interesting and enjoyable to involve me, or I could just relax, and that would be okay too (There wouldn't be any guilt about what I "should" be doing. Anything I was doing at any given moment would be just fine).
There would have to be sex (I don't know if that would mean monogamous sex with my wonderful, sexy, and very open-minded wife, or what exactly. I haven't worked that out yet. But it wouldn't be heaven for Jim without S-E-X).
And yes, there would also have to be acting. Probably theater, mostly. A great show, a great director, a great role, a great cast, and a large, appreciative audience. And afterwards, afterglows and cast parties and socializing and all that fun stuff.
(In my heaven, as an actor, I wouldn't be great, with everyone else just bowing at my feet--There would be no "weak links" in the shows I'd be in in heaven, which is one of things that would make it "heaven"--but I would be kind of "first amongst equals", admired and appreciated by both my fellow actors and my "audience".)
Lots of barbecue. Lots of cherry pie and ice cream. Cool toys to play with (All the action figures in heaven would be "fully articulated"). Lots of kids that I could kiss and hug and play with as much as I wanted. Lots of books to read and movies and plays and performances to see. And I'd have a dog.
Friends. Family. Love. Sex. Acting. Food and fun and just feeling good. Lots of laughter.
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