August 19th, 2010

Dedicated

Filmed by director Henrik Hansen

There’s a thin line between dedication and madness. It’s almost indistinguishable to some degree. The latter being true, often the case. But once it’s found, dedication, it is unmistakable. As palpable and a distinct as the smell of oil, a piece of cloth, the texture of wood.

The common run-in with the word is hearing it in a work context, “I’m dedicated to my job.”, in which I immediately (and most often, only mentally) call bullshit. The phrase itself is an oxymoron. True as the phrase, “I love shit”, rung off anyone’s mouth.

There is no title in dedication. No job, no Executive Manager. It is similarly unconscious, yes. Bound, yes. Though not to reality, but to a terminal case of gut instinct, every bit as fatal. The latter, probably why we confuse it so frequently.

Greek mythology (and Norse, and Celtic, who knows the difference really) talk of this creature, the Ouroboros. A serpent swallowing it’s own tail. It was created, in the attempt of God, to make the perfect creature. Absent of eyes, or ears. Perfect to a cursed extent needed no one else, and nothing else.

In making his motorbikes, uninfluenced, unconsciously. In a man to spend his entire life, doing only one thing. It isn’t to simply be committed, to be bound. To be dedicated, runs much deeper. For these people, for Shinya Kimura, it’s not simply so much about just bending steel. It’s in doing so, that they make a distinctly human attempt, to reciprocate an effort of God. That is dedication.

March 31st, 2010

Moving At Pace

Last Scene of Kranked Revolve.

Frantic, in a back and forth ricochet. Past a light post, to do a down payment. Calls and inquiries, price estimates are reminders that money doesn’t grow on trees. Two cups of coffee, by the end of the day I might have seven. Scrunched eye brows, oil sheen forehead. I’d rather not wipe it off, it keeps me in character.

We’ve all got different reminders, things that tell us we’re still alive. I can masochistically take pleasure from all the money burning, and things I can’t do, but I’d rather not. Maybe when this is over, I can regress back to a phase where all I needed was a bike. Twenty four in the back, twenty six in front, rigid, maybe 3 inch travel. Single speed, and a disc brake. Vertical drop outs, geometry meant to manual for days.

March 22nd, 2010

Fifty Two Fast Forward

San Francisco 1958 / Alameda 1958″ by Jeff Altman.

Fifty two years from now, I wonder if we’ll be able to look back with this sort’ve nostalgia, this pleasant glaze of grander times that’ve passed. I remember, as a young fobby Asian kid, riding one of those trams, and thinking how exhilarating it was. Somewhere in between a slow sprint and a fast crawl, I remember the smiles, everyone having a blast, and that was 93. What more would it have been in the 50s, everything must’ve felt like it was moving too fast.

Fifty two years fast forward and will we be looking back at the footage of today, thinking the same? That those were the times grander? Years when people could still stand outside, where everyone didn’t have to wear masks? Much as I’d like to have a pleasant past to be nostalgic about, I’d rather not. Hopefully we break out of this pattern, otherwise we’re right on track. Condensing down to smut, until there’s no turning back.

March 21st, 2010

Twenty Eight Forzen Ombres

Inglorious Bastards Special Feature, the Camera Angel.

Everyone needs a bit of humor once in awhile, just enough so to get their head out of their asses, and I’m sure that even in a Tarantino movie, actor egos can get pretty far up there. I’ve always figured that losing the ability to laugh at yourself is always a tell tale sign that you’ve already lost the plot. Pulling you back over, if you’ve fallen off the ledge of too much. Here’s one to laughter.

March 8th, 2010

Playback Control

Luv Delux by Cinnamon Chasers and directed by Saman Keshavarz.

Funny how I’ve this pattern of gravitating to music on Mondays. Maybe it’s an attempt to compensate for all the mundane that’s going to ensue? That or an audio format band-aid to curb the hard edge of the weekly rat race. I’m not exactly sure if this is a shared sentiment, but I can’t help but fret over the issue. It feels to me like time is almost passing at an all too fast rate nowadays. What used to feel like weeks, are now more so like days, blipping past, faster than we could even begin to remember what happened.

Searching for some significance in what seems like a miso soup-like blur is a tough thing, I don’t even know which way is up half the time. Part of me wishes I could just go Flash on this all and embed video controls on my life.fla. Hit pause in the moments of joy, fast forward through the not-so and maybe even rethink and rewind. Playback at a slower rate so I can have more of it. Time to think, time to laugh, time to smile.. I could go on, but boy is this a lot of ramble. Only on a Monday, probably because it is.

March 6th, 2010

Danse Macabre

Intergalactic Work Out Plan by Ze Predators x Danny Glover.

This is it. I’ve officially seen enough to fit two lifetimes. Spite being more hopeful that flying cars would come first, I didn’t think that I’d be around to see the words Predator, poplock, and Danny Glover all coexist in the same context. I eat my words, yet again. I must’ve said it before a countless number of times, those were all probably lies. Now, I’ve seen it all.

March 6th, 2010

The B-Side

Tik Tok by Ke$ha x Star Wars.

Things always go down better with a bit of guilt involved. That’s why, when it comes to Star Wars geekery, I prefer to wash mine down with the electro pop musings of one of my favorite artists, Ke$ha. The fact that there’s some actual and genuine enjoyment crossing paths is a bit disturbing, leaving me to think that guilt, might just be the last thing I should be worrying about.

March 2nd, 2010

Lycra, Blood, and Suffering

Chasing Legends by Gripped Films

Far removed from the “Quasi Queer” Roadie impression that you normally get from Lycra totting cyclists here in Manila, the film, Chasing Legends, puts the neon stretch fabric clad topic under an entirely different light, enough so for anyone to put aside their preconceived gay leaning stereotypes on the matter.

Tuned to a sort of intensity you’d find in a freeride Motocross flick or a South American drug bust documentary, it’s a balls out depiction of the realities and difficulties that come with the Tour de France. Fringing in on the realm of “a bit too much” (note to music), its dabbling in the realm of over baked (Ben Stiller cameo) but hopefully so in just the right ways.

With epic S words like “suffering” and “survive”, used in tandem with phrases along the lines of “ready to kill this guy”, its makes for a shxt load of cycling shorts, with no gay innuendo in sight. And who knows? It may make for a fairly decent watch as well. I’m just not too sure whether I should take it seriously or not.

February 16th, 2010

After Everything

It Was On The Earth, That I Knew Joy by Sixpack France.

A single moment of joy, a lover’s name, the memory of, all gone, or least terribly faint. The lack to recall any joy would be an all too cruel fate. Spite that being said, it almost sounds justly served. I wonder, after everything, will we be even spared the luxury to remember?

February 14th, 2010

A Life Aquatic

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou by Wes Anderson.

I’ve been on a Wes Anderson bender lately. Playing his collection on loop, on my laptop, as I work, I manage to probably clock in at least a viewing or two of Life Aquatic. Much as I’m barely watching it, there’s always this one scene that manages to get to me. It’s almost perfect. How the Sigur Ros slowly fades into volume, building up and suddenly dropping to this moment where Steve rhetorically asks, “I wonder if it still remembers me.” Squinted eyes, and on the verge of tears most often. Funny how it’s suppose to be a comedy.

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