When Jim was over several weeks ago, he and I spent some time watching The Bourne Ultimatum, a movie we both really like. We were analysing the movie in the same way that literary buffs analyse Kafka. We were discussing what it was about Matt Damon that made him look so dangerous, a man not to be messed with. Not just in one scene, but in every scene. I said that he moved with an economy of movement which exudes control and precision. The term stuck with me since that time and I’ve been giving it a lot of thought; Economy of Movement. It reminds me of the proverb that a good scientist is a lazy scientist, because lazy scientists will invent ways of doing things better, faster, cheaper, etc. It’s about precision, which leads in turn to control. I think my instinctual desire for minimalism is part of something bigger, only one facet of an overarching philosophy that calls for simplicity and precision. To achieve a particular economy of movement, in the same way that martial artists do this, and hunting cats, is to purge yourself of waste, achieve precision and minimalism at the same time. And this isn’t just restricted to physical movement, also intellectual movement and emotional movement, but I can’t quite grasp the consequences of those yet. More thought on the subject will be required, but needless to say, I’m very excited.
Chauvinism <> Misogynism
I saw a little video-clip of a Dr. Phil episode about the world’s most chauvinistic man. This guy has a website to teach men about the art of chauvinism. This prompts me to ask you guys the following, because this something I’ve come across more and more lately; since when is chauvinism the same as misogynism?
Sweet Dreams Are Made of Cheese
Saturday was spent fucking about a bit, doing chores, playing computer games, and such. In the evening, I hung out with Eva, Sam and Jayson, had some food, hung out and laughed a bunch at Jayson. It’s not often that I considering him funny, but he was on fire saturday night. Well, he is flaming…
On sunday, I got up early and ate a healthy and hearty breakfast, grabbed my gear and went for an MMA seminar. It wasn’t a very long seminar, about an hour-and-a-half, but I was pretty bruised afterwards. We concentrated on hip-throws and wrist-locks, which was awesome, though right now I can’t really type very well. I took some pictures of the inside of my right arm, to document the massive bruises – a nice colouration of shades of red, purple and brown. I don’t know how well the photo came out, because I took it on my phone, which is shit, but if it’s any good, I’ll post it so you can all laugh at my pain and my ability to bruise easily. :)
After the seminar, Tristram and I drove to Hoorn and he dropped me off at my mother’s. I had something to eat, walked the dog and went to Richard’s for some hang-out time. We started watching the Alien Quadrilogy, watched the first one, and got about three-quarters into the second one. I love those fucking films. We did a lot of trash-talking, eating fast-food and falling asleep. Well, I did, at least. I think I fell asleep on the sofa twice, only to be awoken by marine corp gunfire or the sounds of aliens exploding. As everyone knows, Richard has a massive television screen, and it has this particular Pixel Plus filter, which gives everything a hard edge. All of a sudden, all films look like they’re much more realistic and gritty. I love it.
The only downside to this weekend was that on the way back from Hoorn to Amsterdam the train didn’t go further than the first stop and the journey was continued by bus. I hate busses.
.: Edit
This is from sunday night, and it only got worse from there on. It’s all brown and purple now, I’m like a fucking rotten apple. Hey man, even the Mona Lisa is falling apart. Click the image for the full sized version.
Only Suicidal in the Morning
Man, I always feel so gypped when I have a fantastic dream and I wake up in the middle of it to find that it wasn’t real. I can’t will myself back to sleep, either, nor can I continue with the same dream when I can fall back asleep. Major gyp.
!*.static
It’s hard to remind myself that nothing is static and that things change, people change, opinions change, opportunities change. It wouldn’t be so bad if things would be changing for the good, but instead of evolution, it all seems like devolution to me. Things are either horribly stagnant, or they simply fall apart. Lost opportunities. Lost love. Lost people. Lost health. Lost memories. Every time I lose something I die a little inside. Normally that wouldn’t be such a problem because there would be an abundance of new things to replenish that which was lost but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. Perhaps it’s merely my diminished scope that’s failing me, narrowed further and further due to the sincere lack of joy I feel in the things I do. I probably miss things that would normally elevate my spirits.
And because I don’t want to leave on such an angsty note, here’s something that did make me laugh today:
