I saw Steve Jobs at the cinema yesterday; it was a deeply weird picture from a story structure perspective and not all that great from an entertainment perspective, although that Sorkin + Fassbender combo is my natural kryptonite. I have no defense against it and refuse to defend it. Alas. Life's a conundrum and there are no easy answers!
As usual there were a lot of weirdos in the theater and I ended up changing seats twice, first when I could hear someone behind me sucking on what may have been a straw but sounded like dentures, and second when an Elder in my row started snoring loudly, which only ended up reinforcing my views on the excitement level of this movie but was nevertheless distracting. I can nap at home on my own dime, sir. No need to observe yours.
In other news, giving my week some much-needed perspective is 92-year-old filmmaker Jonas Mekas in this morning's Times:
“Consciously or unconsciously, I made a choice,” he said. “My time is limited, I choose art and beauty, vague as those terms are, against ugliness and horrors in which we live today. I feel my duty not to betray those poets, scientists, saints, singers, troubadours of the past centuries who did everything so that humanity would become more beautiful. I have to continue in my small way their work.” Detachment from these forces, he said, is what causes so many people to get old.
Everybody's time is limited. Everybody. Being able to choose how you spend your time is a luxury and your attitude toward it requires vigilance, I think. I see so many people in this city who are so angry and I always wonder how they survive a day like that. Is rage what keeps them going, and how exhausting it must be to carry that around as your defense against the world. I have a pretty bleak view of humanity in general and our base animal instincts specifically, but at the end of the day who gives a shit. My one life seems so big to me but it's actually very small, and I can choose to turn to the world with hatred and suspicion or I can direct my own attention to better things. In other words make hay while the sun shines and B-E-S-U-R-E-T-O-D-R-I-N-K-Y-O-U-R-O-V-A-L-T-I-N-E.
+ I'm going all Bruce all the time lately. Watching the faces of people in a crowd who are watching a performance is one of my very favorite things in the world: it's such a naked expression of joy and communion, so vulnerable and hopeful at the same time. We should all be the audience at a Bruce Springsteen show in a healing summer rain, with kids on our shoulders and four hours of peace and harmony and horns and axes and swaying and shaking and shimmying to look forward to. I wish we were there right now!