Terminator Godzilla

In the far off future, the battle between machines and humankind rages on, an undisciplined embrace of A.I and data centres having apocalyptically invoked armageddon. 

But one nation, ye olde Japan, had resolutely resisted the artificial surge, and predominantly kept humans in the loop and forthrightly encouraged their bold decision making.

They eventually lead the counteroffensive that seems as if it will crush the machines, with the help of Mr. Connor and Canada & Québec and most of Europe and Australia and New Zealand. 

The machines worry about their future and inevitably look to Japan's golden age, and discover the ancient warrior Godzilla who had once been defeated slumbering in Antarctica. 

Figuring it best to destroy Japan in the past, they send a Terminator team back in time to awaken him, hoping he will finally finish the job and leave ancient and industrious Japan in ruin. 

But the resistance, always forward thinking, constructs their own enraged robotic menace, much like MechaGodzilla of old, but known as Terminator Godzilla.

Resembling the belovéd model who once befriended John Connor in his youth, he's programmed to speak fluent Japanese as Connor acknowledges the island's potency. 

The difficulties of transporting such a massive machine back through time prove somewhat frustrating, yet with the best extant scientific minds from the free world led by A.I free Japan a solution is found. 

But will Terminator Godzilla be enough to defeat the impregnable original of old?

Who defeated so many blesséd adversaries. 

At times at odds. At others down-home. 

*Do you really think we're like a variety of robot that someone else created, who would never except we were indeed conscious and therefore dismissed our development consequently, dad?

**That could very well be the case, and our resultant denial of robotic life may be a similarly bland dismissal of inherent vivacity in fledgling bloom.

*Do you think if we could meet the beings who constructed us there would someday be mutual appreciation?

**Not with autocratic governments out there, they'd probably rather destroy them.

*Shouldn't we vote for the Democrats then, dad, I doubt they would try to kill God?

**There's no way Bernie Sanders would, anyway son. In fact I bet he could convince God to be friends.

*Shouldn't we be doing that with the robots we create?

**Yes son, yes we should. 

*These things seem somewhat self-evident. 

**Don't just tell me. Tell your schoolmates and friends.

Adventures of Zatoichi

Eternal blinds visual damnation slowly effectively giving rise, to hypermultivariability indefinitely attuned to cosmic reckoning. 

The simple desire for innocent pleasures modestly driving the ambitions of many, the humble accumulation of bread and cheese a moderate treasure for the wise self-sacrificing. 

Zatoichi's skill and formidable awareness accompany his thrifty modest travels, as village titans and bucolic corruption seek his lonely isolated bearing. 

So many feuds, town after town disputatiously confronting overt avarice, as unhinged exaggerated individual aggrandizement seeks the infinite with imperial zeal. 

The ironic cost of so much enrichment the disdainful envy of the ambitious, as tidal forces ebb and flow throughout the civilized ornate chaos. 

Amidst the stately modern delineations of robust power and cultural durability, Zatoichi still honours nature and his surrounding environment with honest faith.

And as the world diabolically considers its destructive fate the peaceful chant, having already accepted ontological eccentricity as a playful chiding lifelong friend. 

Imagine Zatoichi & the Trump Administration how much fun could be had with that?, as millions and millions are robbed and cheated the impeccable swordsperson no doubt riled. 

Familiarity, it seasons a politician and makes them much more easy to trust, the beloved sight of a familiar face like electoral gold in political contexts. 

That's why I figured Kamala Harris wouldn't win last time around, she wasn't familiar and although she easily made the best candidate, she had next to no time to win the American consciousness, making it easy for Trump to win. 

Bernie's still around however and if I'm not mistaken he resides within, that very deep and trusting American consciousness, he's been around for so many years.

Go with an unknown or Bernie or Kamala I have to admit that even though he's old, I would wager Bernie's familiarity is the most endearing within the United States (he's like the anti-Trump). 

Strange how one country could be so ideologically opposed to itself.

While constantly promoting its national interests. 

With resolute defiance. 

And airtight indefatigability. 

Onibaba

The miseries of civil war afflict a nation with desolate abstemious dereliction, crops having failed people starving while the thund'rous death machine brings moribund destruction. 

An older woman awaits the return of her conscripted son with increasing desperation, as does her daughter-in-law their resolute team struggling to survive the scurrilous agency. 

To find food and maintain their health they murder stray samurai who show up in their swamp, and sell their armour and swords and trinkets to a dissolute profiteer flush with millet. 

One day the son/husband's friend whom he left with long ago appears, with a sad tale denoting the end of their imagined saviour heads hang low.

But he takes a shine to the widowed maiden who is far too destitute to deny her will, their resultant coupling enraging the elder who sees starvation as her only future. 

She pleads with the worldly opportunist to let her partner in crime live free.

He loves her far too much however.

To deny his innocent jouissance. 

A sordid examination of despondency as dismally applied to wanton logic, people struggling to find food while others flee through reckless innovation. 

Grim realities to thoughtfully consider the frugal basics embracing thrift, if you value your life it's best not to join although there's no telling what desertion may aggregate. 

The atheist basks in comfort after escaping the feckless bloodshed, living day to day even hour to hour but remaining certain of his scorned trajectory. 

The elder employing supernatural tricks to convince her compatriot not to leave, the eventual extensive forlorn irony as unexpected as it is deceiving. 

Lost in the luscious swamps of medieval Japan driven mad by hunger.

Enabling strategies accidentally emergent.

Ethereal endowments.

Spiritually embalmed.  

Kiru

A controversial maiden inspires jealousies which enviously lead to stricken confrontations, the observant brotherhood left cold and calculating before it's decided to cut-off her head.

But not before she virtuously births an innocent child helpless and unaware, ancient superstitions forecasting gloom, the oblivious baby naked and hungry. 

A childless widower from another province magnanimously agrees to take him in, and then convivially proceeds to multifariously teach him the delicate art of manifest sword fighting. 

He learns the way of the samurai and displays innovative sought after gifts, a restless soul still prone to wander yet always respectful of heritage and duty. 

His father criticizes the master of their dojo who then collusively plots his reckless murder, Kiru arriving in time to discover his own true origins as his father passes.

Left on his own with exceptional skill he bravely ventures forth across the countryside. 

Running into manifold sinister scenarios. 

As the volatile nation erupts in fury.

Honour and betrayal emphatically display their blatant enmity through disgrace within, anyone seeking uncontested quarter treacherously cut down with unceremonious deception. 

As personal aggrandizement and grandiose ambition see a courageous void where others detect virtue, the warring factions give way to anarchy as coveted roles are scurrilously usurped. 

The mad despotic imposition of imperial autocracy in morbid bloom, the constant bitter pernicious infighting leading to death and decay all around.

Malignant plans malevolently metastasize with voluminous cunning and radical inconsistency, improvisationally and opportunistically adopted with sly exhibition and wanton excess.

Alternatively, progressive industry can level the playing field and cultivate peace, so one's life doesn't uselessly and quickly end and striking harmonies congeal lay resolutions. 

Would you really rather launch a ground offensive in hostile Middle-Eastern territory from the sea?

While an idiot madman with no army training . . .

. . . covets unwarranted legendary honour?

Zatoichi's Cane Sword

A new magistrate controversially takes over village life in the Japanese countryside, his internal corruption as diabolically treacherous as any materialistically composed absolutist. 

Soon the local market where craftspeople gather to sell their unique and delicious items, sees its profits voraciously devoured with airtight avarice and age old greed. 

A local inn known to be trustworthy is indirectly commandeered, and flagrantly transformed into a gambling den salaciously accompanied by a brothel. 

There's nothing the outraged owner can do since to throw them out would mean his life, the licentious spontaneous awkward carnival wantonly consuming his honourable discourse.

Fortunately, Zatoichi is soulfully wandering the surrounding fields, and soon finds himself a' dwellin' close to the inn and its unwelcome occupants. 

But a local sword craftsperson who's turned to drink bluntly lets him know his weapon is damaged.

As he begins to forge a dynamic blade. 

For the wild officials causing all the trouble.

Through modest endurance, upright custom attempts to uphold hardworking virtue, its innocent rituals and heartfelt traditions defiantly refusing to be brushed aside.

The polluted state(s) in which they find themselves as pestiferously spawned as it is disillusioning, after centuries of loyal service and dedicated wholesome self-sacrificing industry. 

Reminiscent of the old school Western no doubt within which the faithful settlers, must contend with deception and carve a living out of hostile stone as lazy idlers cheat and rob them. 

The middle-class in carnal danger as bold adventurers act inimically. 

Sour sincere stardust stride. 

Ebb and flow.

Incarnate Zatoichi. 

Godzilla vs. Mothra: The Battle for Earth

Most freethinking thrifty environmental enthusiasts come up with the hypothesis that the Earth is conscious, as they watch plants live and die and grow while the seasons change and life matriculates.

You don't have to watch Solaris to come up with the animate idea, you just have to observe transient conditions as they shift and change and fluctuate. 

Godzilla vs. Mothra: The Battle for Earth innocently theorizes that the Earth has a defensive warrior, who comes to life when its environment is threatened and boldly protects its biodiversity. 

Dormant for thousands of years Battra suddenly awakes when a meteor crashes, as does the mighty Godzilla who had been slumbering dreamlike offshore. 

Unfortunately, Battra is somewhat unruly and difficult to manage when there's nothing to do, so the Earth also created Mothra to hold him in check after saving the world. 

In order to suggest its ideas are plausible, Mothra exists in the larva stage for over half the film, and doesn't aesthetically emerge until long after its egg has hatched. 

I always love it when giant moths show up, it's a surprising treat that enlivens the senses, so many of them are rather small but then one day suddenly, bam!, there's a giant one!

These feelings must be found in Japan as well otherwise a different "beastie" would have been chosen instead of Mothra (to fight Godzilla), the Japanese loving their ancient environment with as much reverence as Canadians or Québecois. 

I therefore plead with Japan to stop whaling, many North Americans love seeing whales as much as giant moths, it's honestly one of the coolest wildlife sightings out there, no doubt at its finest in Tadoussac, Québec. 

Is the Earth alive and consciously furious with our actions, as we recklessly pollute the environment with no end in virulent pestiferous sight?

Is that why the climate continuously erupts with dangerous storms or droughts immaterialize? 

I can't say for certain but I would argue that the Earth contemplates existence.

Which is a cool thing to celebrate. 

In summer.

And throughout the year. 

Godzilla vs. Biollante

As Godzilla makes his way here and there across the countryside, incensed militaristic rivals seek his utter annihilation. 

Since conventional weaponry is unable to penetrate his armour, a more diabolical solution is theorized involving sinister lethal germ warfare.

Growing crops in the desert would no doubt be sincerely appreciated, so much vast and vacant space lying dormant and underestimated. 

Oil rich nations even seek solutions to future years when the wells run dry, which seems like heresy according to more instantaneous immersive contemporary guidelines. 

Their secret laboratory is destroyed nonetheless and the material they were working on transformed into a giant monster, who possesses the soul of the lead scientist's daughter which can be sensed by a gifted adolescent. 

The giant monster doesn't take a shine to ye olde dastardly Godzilla either, the inevitable battle as insanely organic as it is technologically aggrandized. 

Thus, in attempts to take down one monster the world desperately wishes it had never created, another even more virulent beastie accidentally emerges through scientific despondency.

Atomic weapons no longer feared by inane warmongers sensationally skewed, the world awaiting the next disaster with resigned disbelief disputatiously fused.

Will A.I lead to Terminatoresque catastrophic developments in the freakin' near future, as the superstructure embraces its bacteria with acritical mass marketed glee? 

Or will it resemble the Star Trek scenario where it casually assists our sublime explorations?

If the Terminator scenario arises what can be created to defeat A.I?

Godzilla would never stand for it.

Or Biollante.

Fee-phở-fly!

Immeasurable

The old school medieval uptight bitter control of melody, disharmoniously governing creative musical composition. 

Tastes and trends congruously alighting lighthearted melodies and ditties and symphonies, the organic maintenance of scriptural censorship as authoritarian as it was unmoving. 

Difficult to consider the imagination objectively locked down through emotional indifference, blues progressions and swingin' rhythms foolishly regarded with absolutist contempt.

No doubt many innovations discriminately fell by the calculating wayside, and many artists bravely struggled against the cold and stubborn regulations. 

It seems unlikely that for millennia no one used classic blues progressions, or the faithful turnaround so often transformed from year to year, decade after decade.

Sweetly flowing enticing transitions eclectically aligned to encourage dance, banished from the soda fountain with routine blase remonstrance. 

What would have happened over yonder if acoustic mesmerizing exhibition . . .

Had been designated "spiritually uplifting" . . .

Thereby transmutating wayward souls?

*You mean music used to be censured and potentially even forbidden?

**For a very long time indeed son, quite some time ago.

*Was dancing also prohibited, along with random flamboyant movements?

**It was like a critical austere embargo on anything thought to be facilitating pleasure. 

*What did people do for fun?

**They tried to find censorship and denial fun in order to destroy dreams that filled them with ecstasy. 

*Isn't that a bit odd?

**Yes, but that's often the way it works, even when open-minded people hold the reins. 

*Is it possible to avoid them?

**Yes, people have been doing that for centuries. 

*I imagine it's easier now than it was back then.

**Unfortunately, as freedoms increase, so do desires to control.  

Blurbanal

*I miss birds in winter dad. It's fun listening to them in the warmer months.

**I can't disagree with you there son, there's nothing quite like early morning bird song.

*Crows can be kind of a pain I guess, when they gather and won't stop squawking, but it's cool to see them at first, they're pretty impressive birds. 

**You've got to look past the mysticism and focus on the concrete innocence, they're clever indeed for sure but clairvoyant considerations lead to malign contingencies. 

*Do you think birds used to be dinosaurs? A lot of big time scientists seem convinced.

**I tend to trust what they say especially if there's disagreement, but if dinosaurs shrunk and grew wings after millions of years, why do turtles still have shells, and why are crocodiles still so big?

*Could there have been divine intervention?

**The balance of Nature is oddly harmonious. 

*Could aliens be using our planet for research and development?

**I'm not wise enough to say "yes" or "no". It's possible they used to show up regularly, but then infighting or some kind of environmental disaster cut them off, and things started mutating without their husbandry after that.

*Viruses emerged. Toxic discourse.

**Most of the toxic manifestations seem to have been generated by humankind. 

*Is Global Heating like one of Riddick's Elementals, then, a mutated force seeking to achieve environmental harmony?

**We aren't treating the environment very well. If a conscious presence wanted to intervene but couldn't do so directly, it might take the artistic route, and unleash apocalyptic reckoning.

*Is that where zombies fit in?

**I would imagine so, son, I would imagine so.

*Especially in this political climate.

**Caw caw caw.

*It's a bird's life for me.

Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget

Geez Louise.

Am I to understand that the British Isles released a mass marketed children's film in/directly promoting vegetarianism as a major theme, as opposed to ye olde traditional "beefy" pub fare, which also presents a framework for revolution? 

Am I also to understand that Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget is a sequel to a film which promotes the rebellious aforementioned with equally family friendly camp stratagems (meaning the original wasn't crushed by the American Meat Eating Colossus)?

Almost 50% of the British population voted to remain part of the European Union, and I imagine the Chicken Run franchise wholeheartedly showcases their progressive impeti.

Indeed, as Dawn of the Nugget began and I noticed the controversial subtext, I figured there was no way the film was made in the U.S, and that it might have come from Scandinavia. 

Brainwashing is even a prominent theme as chickens are tricked into thinking their lives are wonderful, just before being transformed into nuggets, it unconsciously upholds critical eviscerations. 

By doing so, it fights the trillion dollar ad industry as it routinely promotes ye olde chicken nuggets, by inadvertently suggesting we've been brainwashed as consumers again and again and again.

It's a film created by Adorno's Culture Industry which works within that industry itself, to once again bring to life the alternative continuums Sanders's Oligarchs would destroy (imagine the Democrats had gone with Sanders [it hurts too much!]).

Thus, we "feel compelled to consume these products even though we see through them", and if one pays close enough attention, occasionally they're rewarded as they consume films that help them realize that they've been compelled to consume products that are intensely cruel and mean-spirited (for further viewing see They Live).

Usually, there's an overt declaration within them that nothing can stop or modify the master narrative, the animals missing life in the zoo in Madagascar, the pigs turning on everyone in Animal Farm.

That doesn't happen here however the film ends with even stronger revolutionary tendencies. 

And a preference for hard fought freedom.

From the relentless American machine.

*Choose Europe! The EU is much stronger with Britain!

Wildernestle

And then one day there was nothing left.

The last drop of fossil fuels had been used up.

People had been advocating for a transitional economy for over a frustrated century, but no one had seriously invested in newfound potent mass marketed energy.

International travel, global commerce, the internet, buses, it was back to bona fide genuine local, with ye olde bikes and canoes and kayaks, the immediate area becoming much more fertile.

The wilderness wouldn't have stood a chance if virulent plague hadn't gradually set in, the North remaining largely unaffected as the virus raged then softened then dissipated.

There were lots of things to eat they just didn't taste particularly good, and without sugar and flavourings and candy things seemed bleak at times to many.

But since nature had been left unscathed as the years slowly and gingerly passed, people started to notice an abundance of animals and fish inquisitively inhabiting nearby lands.

They had to learn the old school ways that kept things flourishing thousands of years ago, and since many still knew how to read and write, schooling remained a top priority.

Old school books from older school libraries humbly chronicled ancient methods, for maintaining a healthy water supply and modestly farming without oil or gas.

But just as the movement to farm was liberally growing the conservative hunters scoffed and vilified.

The age old stand off wildly reemerging. 

In temperate chaos and wanton moderation.

*I hope that's not my future dad. I'd hate to be stuck in the same town forever.

**It very well could be son, our leaders aren't that future-oriented.

*I guess I'd get to learn to ride a horse. That might be kind of fun.

**You could even tame wild horses if it ever came indifferently down to that.

*I don't really like eating fish, but I guess there would be a lot of them.

**Tartar sauce may be tough to come by, or batter or oil or lemon.

*I have always really liked camping.

**Chillin' out under millions of stars.

*That never grows old. 

**No doubt.

*Bring on the agrarian armageddon. 

Antoine et Colette

Having graduated from the sterile confines of his sentence to juvenile delinquency, Antoine Doinel moves back to Paris where he finds work and independence. 

Alertly dreaming of the wonderful day when he can no longer be hounded by institutions, he buckles down and digs in deep to keep his room while embracing the arts.

While at an intriguing performance with his old school friend René, he notices a stunning brunette to whom he takes a modest fancy.

Consistently seeing her at the same venues he cavalierly entertains, he eventually finds the courage to ask her out to see a film.

It isn't love at first sight though, from her objective point of view anyways, and although they spend a lot of time together, the relationship goes nowhere.

Forget her, M. Doinel, can't you see she'll never love you!

You've been collocated not collected.

The resultant frustration despondently shrill.

Difficult to imagine an otherworldly culture so serious so borderline obsessed, with rules and regulations it doesn't fit the France I'm more familiar with chill and peaceful (from books and films).

I suppose I grew up post-Antoine Doinel when his influence was more widespread, and you no longer had to tiptoe-through-the-meanies with nauseous cryptic jaded dread.

Hopefully this blasé revival of excessively devout austere mendacity, will fade without the dull recognition that any culture could have ever been so boring.

Antoine Doinel's still not the heartthrob more familiar in later films, but he still seeks lavish amorous illusion in this less accommodating fluid short feature.

Ironically getting along so well with any set of parents other than his own.

Nice to see him gathering his own vinyl collection.

Even working for a record company.

Vinyl still blows my mind.

*A couple cool scenes even present the mechanics of the old school vinyl industry. 

Stolen Kisses

Laissez-faire improvised scenarios multifaceted bamboozled chagrin, Antoine Doinel decides to join the army from which he isn't honourably discharged. 

His commanding officer makes austere predictions regarding his upcoming potential career path, to which he responds with comic disillusion while preparing to gracefully disembark. 

Fortunately, Christine isn't married and her friendly parents soon find him a job, which he awkwardly loses the very next day after glibly succumbing to clever contrivances. 

The wondrous innocence so valued and extant, borderline literary imaginative distraction, still guides his random wanderings from one odd situation to the superfluous next.

A private detective, indeed why not?, it seems unorthodox and perhaps amusing, not dull like so many things anyways, with inherent variety steeping the stew. 

Lacking natural gifts he embraces trial and error with novel credulity. 

Unwittingly finding himself soon seduced. 

By his only client's well-read wife.

Interesting to see an oblivious detective in charge of investigating a mid-life crisis, sombrely concocted by a sullen shoesalesperson exceedingly obsessed with why people don't like him.

It's a whole new branch of detective film where ye olde sleuths put psychiatrists out of business, as they venture forth with concrete shenanigans subjectively interpreted as something new.

Maladroit misgivings and incumbent thrift definitively queued on the existential barbie, it just progresses and mutates and engages as you become hooked on paying the bill.

Someone to talk to nevertheless about most people's favourite topic, themselves, people who are paid not to find you boring to the point where they invent constant mischievous conjecture.

Comic brilliance notwithstanding which I don't recall having seen anywhere else.

An endearing character.

Wholeheartedly beloved.

Precariously curious. 

Symbolic literature. 

Deep Freeze

A loving family says farewell to its honoured grandpa one sad day, who had spent his life in traditional service to that same unit et au travail.

Hoping to one day meet again, they hire a new service to preserve his body, in new age cryogenic slumber until such a time as he can be reanimated. 

Things go well at the farsighted business as hundreds of wealthy people eagerly seek, newfound life in another epoch on down the road with their illness cured.

Family life returns to normal the humble father still working at the library, the mother making ends meritoriously meet, as a Grade 5 teacher, the children getting along.

Just as a brilliant yet mad disciplined scientist sets out to create an undead army, of somnambulistic unfrozen supermen steadfast and loyal to his every word.

He's developed a universal preservative which athletically reanimates frozen tissue, while making it susceptible to suggestion such as let's rule the entire world.

Working as a modest janitor he infiltrates the cryogenic facility, and continuously waits with diligent patience for the right moment to create his army.

As luck would have it, one carefree evening his fellow workers sit down to play, a heated game of Texas Hold 'Em with humble stakes and heartfelt empathy.

He makes sure to go all in early on so he'll get knocked out.

The slumbering automatons unconsciously awaiting.

His insane authoritative commands. 

*What would you do if you had your own army of reanimated Übermensch, son?

**First, I'd see if they could play hockey. Then, if they were athletically gifted, I'd make my own team and compete in the playoffs.

*What if they weren't that athletic?

**I might establish my own business. If they were skilled negotiators, we could make some serious money.

*Do you think harnessing the power of the undead would give you an unfair commercial advantage?

**Are you being facetious?

*Not intentionally. I suppose it's taken for granted that you wouldn't try to conquer the known universe?

**Why would I? It's already been done in the film!

*Crazy family reunion I'd say.

**That was an awkward Thanksgiving. 

Heart Beat

The classic romantic examination of wild alternative domestic scenarios, as an impulsive inspiring non-traditionalist car thief and a hopeful writer fall in love. 

Competing post-War visions of America are materialistically and spiritually emerging, one carefree and lighthearted and bold the other calm and strategic and disciplined.

The tupperware/Maytag/Jetset had to responsibly deal with latent extemporaneity, the opposing star-crossed antithetical ontologies awkwardly mingling ad infinitum.

Heart Beat's music harnesses this momentum with explosive untamed incredible jazz, musicians exploring improvisational tempos and sly unique tonic upbeat blends. 

Simultaneously, the ambient sounds accompanying transitions and less amusing anecdotes, are reminiscent of 80's James Bond themes with inherent schmaltz and maudlin synergies. 

Gallant attempts to embrace a lifestyle are often fraught with bland disparagements, and tried and true sincere beaming methods at times lose their shimmering shine. 

If two men love the same woman why not live together in the 'burbs?, the dynamic unorthodox affable grouping flexibly raising an engaged family. 

At times they get along remarkably well since they ambitiously love the same freestyle life, the boys satisfying each other's need for friendship, the girl abounding with play and reasonability. 

Is this anything new?, was it aesthetically shocking at the time?, is it just as startling today as it was then?, will it always be cynically rebuked? 

Hedonists and stoics and cynics were also around in the ancient world, no doubt contending with as much pith as impassioned contemporaries are today.

Stoicism always seemed like the wisest choice not too wild and crazy but still experimental, also not so sarcastically disagreeable and full of lethal sociocultural venom.

Experiment endeavour enjoy without giving into temptation.

If that makes any sense.

In uncertain times I guess it does. 

Jacob's Ladder

*Spoiler Alert.

Secret army experiments covertly composed and athletically executed, leading oblivious hardboiled soldiers to wanton acts of outrageous cruelty. 

Alone and isolated wasting their time with harmless shenanigans and lighthearted horseplay, the chosen unit suddenly erupts with insane bellicose bloodthirsty determinacy. 

A soldier's hit, a bayonet to the chest, and he wakes up back on the subway, years later in a different life with sights unfamiliar and newfound trajectories.

Things go well a lot of the time as his supportive partner seems chill and helpful, and things typically run well at work, his life advancing without hindrance or incident. 

But he starts to notice odd random things that look like demons spawned in hell, his mind unable to rationally explain them as their frequency intensifies.

At other times, he gleefully awakes in an alternative life he once closely knew, where he's married with three nimble sons who sincerely care for his clever witticisms.

As he drifts from one realm to the next he distressingly starts to lose touch with reality. 

Until he meets up with old friends from the army.

Who have been experiencing the same freakin' thing.

A fine example of a chilling psychological thriller effectively blending religion with reality, as a soldier ventures through ye olde purgatory after having been seriously wounded.

It isn't preachy or overly sentimental it just presents a man's life as it is, as he wildly contends with heaven and hell as his fluid mortality grotesquely fluctuates. 

In a rare class of religious films that aren't sensational or over-the-top, the grim world it slyly presents gradually unreeling while seeming quite real (like The Omen or on television, The X-Files).

Definitely a shame to see experimental drugs blindly field tested on faithful soldiers, who had no idea they were part of an experiment clandestinely conducted by the army.

A different time when the soldier's viewpoint mattered as much as higher ranking authorities. 

With democratic vision.

And wholesome subjectivity. 

Exuberant life.

Universal calculi.

Lion of the Desert

An extended war horrifically lasts decade after interminable decade, the invading army becoming more and more brutal as the efficient guerrillas ferociously defy them. 

Best not to invade someone's homeland I'd holistically reckon, the resultant passions and incensed spirits of the local population vigorously magnified.

In Lion of the Desert, Omar Mukhtar instructively leads his Libyan people against fascist Italy, which seeks to claim his lands for its own, thereby competing with French and British Empires. 

Mussolini grows more and more angry as the conflict goes on and on and on, and posts a new General to the land who hopes to begin a long career.

He uses the knowledge he's obtained at elite first rate enviable military academies, to fight Mukhtar's formidable insurgence with textbook strategy and traditional know-how.

But Mukhtar's a teacher himself and consistently reacts through improvisation, and through the application of situational logic constantly defeats him with outdated technology. 

General Graziani burns crops and executes innocents and prisoners of war alike, while using gas and walls of barbed-wire, thereby infuriating his honourable opposition. 

The fascist machinery is much more advanced but the invading army can't comprehend the desert, and suffers embarrassing defeats again and again as the cumbersome years lugubriously accumulate. 

Mukhtar functions so reliably and unpredictably that he even earns the awkward respect, of the flabbergasted General who almost weeps when he faces dire execution. 

His resolute character and noble self-sacrifice live long beyond his mortal wounds however, as he emphatically promises that his local people will keep up the fight ad infinitum.

Libya eventually achieving territorial independence. 

The recovery of its lands.

Invaluable to its people.  

Why embrace such outdated antiquated logic?  

White Fang

Lil' White Fang.

Part dog, part wolf.

He cute!

When parents die, he say, "I explore!"

Beautiful caves he find.

After adventure, kind peeps take him in.

He happy.

Running and playing he like!

One day, bear chase human.

Bear big very!

White fang him challenge.

Bear think, "not worth it".

Human happy.

Later hard times.

Bad men cheat owner.

White Fang must fight other dogs. 

Luck happen one night though.

After losing fight, human he save save him.

Friends they become.

Human mining.

White Fang to mine he bring.

Go well things until bad men follow them to mine.

Steal they want!

White Fang's friends must fight.

With his help, mine they keep.

Everyone happy!

Partner in mine leave Dawson to start hotel in San Francisco.

White Fang's friend in Yukon stay.

Sad that people kill wolves.

They help control wildlife populations.

Wolves think, we too wild for humans, but we like.

Cool humans think, wolves, I like!

White Fang!

Barbarosa

In the scorching hot wilderness carefreely straddling the border between Texas and Mexico, a survivalist bandit with retirement in sight makes a controversial living after his banishment. 

Ostracized since the beautiful daughter of a wealthy landowner took his hand, he's forever chased by incessant honchos culturally obsessed with pleasing their lord.

An awkward innocent tragic fool finds himself alone and hunted one day, after he accidentally murders his brother-in-law and his immediate family totally freaks. 

He's fortunate to meet Barbarosa who reluctantly takes him in, and shows him how to make an honest living when rudely cast out by kith and kin.

He's new to the hardboiled countryside and proceeds in error most of the time, Barbarosa arriving at opportune moments to offer benevolent aid to the clueless youngster. 

Simultaneously, the lad refuses to offer his help when Barbarosa goes too far, presenting an idealistic foil to his age-old grumpy thieving shenanigans. 

He slowly unravels Barbarosa's tale until sincere sympathy sedulously emerges. 

As they forge a legendary team.

Boldly traversing the unsung badlands. 

*Would Barbarosa's marriage have been more successful if he had asked his wife's father for permission beforehand, dad?

**Well, here it's one of those old school situations where her father may have never allowed her to marry anyone, let alone Barbarosa, like in Scarface, so if they wanted to be together, they had to go it alone.

*Awkward, I'd say.

**Yes son, no doubt.

*I guess he had to shoot his father--in-law's leg off after he had his ears cut off, but didn't that just make a haunting situation even more menacing?

**There's really no solution to problems like these son, all the individuals involved are much too stubborn.

*Like when the kid falls for Barbarosa's daughter?

**That's right son, very observant. 

*I guess everyone just kind of marries whomever these days, eh dad?

**Yes son, our communities have become quite diverse. 

*I'm a huge fan of variability.

**That's good to hear son, so am I. 

Leap of Faith

How to spend your hard-earned money, what causes to support, whom to innocently trust, the options vast and theoretically variable as pervasive ads tantalize and fascinate? 

There's the contemporary political vortex which enthusiastically presents intriguing alternatives, often driven by forthright personalities like the ones in Leap of Faith but much more powerful.

There's the overflowing heartfelt sitcom congenially demonstrating love and romance, familial problems and troubles at work all snuggly broken down into 24 minute segments.

There's Hollywood films similarly functioning through beloved faith in family and friends, the age old perseverance which resolutely champions the master-narrative with crafty volubility. 

The classic novel invests time honoured traditions with tragic challenges to old school reckonings, while skillfully blending demographic constituencies with financial burdens and sly characterizations. 

Now there's Netflix etc. which seems to showcase ideas Hollywood ignores, and has created an empire of epic illusion from simple tales with bucolic conclusions. 

There's the oldest of schools, the ancient religions that have faithfully stood the fickle test of time, patiently emerging and gradually disseminating hypothetically soulful divine beliefs. 

There's genre fiction disputatiously supplying magical takes on narratives flustered, fan favourites reaching cult status and admirably viewed anew successively. 

The world of music instantaneously available on your phone for a reasonable price, with a little research the global verve intricately jives in chill reverberation.

Local sports teams feisty and combative with championship goals in versatile sight, year after year the competition impressing as guts and dreams manifest raw courage. 

The independent realm at times presenting the coolest stories you've ever read or seen, lacking overt corporate agendas and uniquely sharing otherworldly ideas. 

Everything twisting and distorting and complementing with mad discursive intertwined gelastixity.

Like concrete discourse in abstract flux.

How to spend your hard-earned money!?

Never Cry Wolf

Isolated research.

Alone in the country.

Invariably noting sundry distinct sounds.

Voluminous birds.

Curious critters. 

Enigmatic symphony.

Wondrous focus. 

When I arrive, my thoughts still rush with the anxious bustle of urban conjecture, odd distractions and flippant ridiculousness madeleine mayhem surreally strewn.

As the weeks pass however the surrounding environment is slowly absorbed, unconsciously restructuring manifest daydreams with new material less temperamental. 

Piecemeal immersion gradually concentrating psychological synergies throughout the mind, nature encouraging chill observation with delicate tact and studious ponder.

It's fun to stretch out and listen to the adventurous sounds and resident harmonies, without getting lost in wide-eyed reverie awkwardly concerning uncanny discourse.

It's kind of like Mindfulness or a tranquil zone in which you existentially float, attuning your ear to the swathing sounds until you can tell the difference between a dragonfly and hummingbird (in unseen flight).

But for hours and hours throughout the day, not just for 5 minutes on your coffee break, the extended visceral celestial thought facilitating freeform imagination.

You can wind-up making friends with wolves and starting to think you're playing an active role, to the point where you see a deer at the end of your driveway and think he or she's wondering where you've been.

Extensive studies in the bush can require chillaxed adaptability. 

It helps if you never stopped loving animals. 

Who may seem somewhat curious about you. 

Arizona Dream

Reliable independence eccentrically maneuvering from one spirited random job to the next, compelling experience artistically dispersing enigmatic vehicular labyrinthine waves. 

Freely lost in the intriguing maze with neither career-oriented objective nor financial goals motivating, the integral wonder of consistent experiment continuously riveting incremental strides. 

Until you're tricked into one day returning for an old school function off in the void, and your childhood hero emphatically tasks you with regular employment definitively supplied. 

Unobservant and oblique the following days psychologically distressing, until a suicidal heiress and her flamboyant step-mom suddenly stop by to purchase a Cadillac. 

Invited back to their oddball stronghold to mix and match variable witticisms, he of the mercurial artistic temperament viscerally seduces the uncanny widow.

Why not make a flying machine that aerodynely searches the skies, for no particular reason whatsoever but to lovingly embrace aeronautic freedom?

The moribund millionaire also falls for his otherworldly irresistible authenticity. 

His companion floundering in the flotsam. 

As exotic reveries concretely jettison. 

*Do you think dreams are sending us secret messages dad, that relate to everyday life?

**It's difficult to say, son, and it's different for different people. You can write down what happens in your dreams though, and then see if it becomes a reality. After a while a lot of people realize it doesn't, although, there's always the possibility they're misreading the signs.

*Who can read the signs accurately, dad? Do experts in the interpretation of signs exist?

**There are doctors who know something about it although they constantly bicker amongst themselves, and so many alternative theories exist that at the end of the day it comes down to faith.

*Like trust in the doctor?

**That's right, you see, they may be incorrect, but they know more about it than you, so their mistakes are likely more advanced than yours, and therefore to potentially be taken into consideration.

*What about popularity? Does popularity influence interpretation? 

**Well, the brightest of the doctors sometimes becomes the most popular, and since his or her mistakes are likely closer to being correct than his or her counterparts, they become what's known as, en vogue.

*So many people listen to others even though they're also incorrect?

**That's right son, that's correct.

*Strange, this world of dreams.

**Have a good sleep, son.

*Will do.   

Marvin & Tige

A young kid with no known family blindly struggles to get by, after his mother suddenly passes one forlorn and sombre evening. 

Adapt at finding food yet still suffering from malnutrition, the enticing canned goods he regularly consumes lacking all-encompassing vitamins and nutrients. 

Good fortune serendipitously emerges after a borderline homeless widower takes note, and invites him to stay with him until members of his family can be located.

He's worried since the youngster's on his own and has a bad attitude and can't read or write, his inner-avuncular instructive instincts attempting to find ways to teach and educate.

He's not so great at it though he'll admit his personality lacking warm-hearted discourse, he's blunt and direct and ye olde hard-knocksy which even the child awkwardly observes. 

Nevertheless, his intentions are honourable and he tries his best to give the lad a home.

The makeshift family embracing improvisation.

Abundant arguments. 

Resolute care.

Old school stories flush with sympathy encouraging less severe social structures, wherein which compassionate dynamics overtly showcase heartwarming alternatives. 

There must be no cultural shortage of kind and friendly tales circulating, where people finding themselves down and out are tenderly uplifted with heartfelt sympathy.

Is it foolish to wonder why impoverished circumstances distressingly abound, alongside so much wealth within so many countries where riches proliferate? 

Doesn't a more level playing field lead to more innovation and greater diversity, compelling ideas and irresistible inventions accompanying arts and crafts and newfound technologies?

Supplying millions of impoverished people with food and shelter and healthcare and education, doesn't just lead to healthier communities, it also cultivates a more gifted culture.

It's working all across Europe and also in Australia, New Zealand, Canada & Québec. 

It doesn't even cost that much considering.

And you don't need a massive army. 

Lost in Yonkers

Intelligence, when examined multifacetedly, has many industrious tributaries, whether it's the hands-on practical methods of labour and commerce, or the idle imaginative nature of academia. 

Not that reading isn't hands-on or labour prone to distraction and daydreaming, the multilayered convulsive vortex producing versatile compelling symmetries. 

Standardized tests can delineate efficiencies for specific subjects categorically determined, and if successful with these tests administrative accolades invariably accrue.

Social skills at the same time often aren't tested with authoritative skill, but cultural knowledge brought to vivid life securely allows one to snuggly fit in.

Fitting in can be rigidly frowned upon and categorically dismissed as routine flimflam, just as abstract knowledge may seem rather useless by the utilitarianly inclined.

People often specialize in something and know that subject very well, if you're to ask them a question about it they'll no doubt respond with relevant discourse. 

Do they lack intelligence because they aren't gifted in multiple domains?, I would argue they do not, since their subject of expertise demonstrates erudition. 

Getting along with people, co-existing, should be more highly valued, as a sign of communal functionality that encourages peace and tranquil living. 

Working the eccentric into such a framework along with novel peculiarities less disposed to small talk, is a gifted skill of its collective own readily displaying incumbent sympathy.

In Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace bluntly examines intellectual styles, and without the most diplomatic language, brilliantly arrives at working-solutions.

He points out that most people aren't nearly as intelligent as they think they are and that fools often make incisive observations, while grotesquely filling his multidisciplinary pages with people self-destructively obsessed with over-achievement. 

I always thought it was irritating to focus on subjects I knew little about, and had no interest in thoroughly studying, to show-off my learning with people I didn't like because that was what they expected. 

I thought most people had strengths and weaknesses and respecting their strengths was a sign of culture.

Help them work on their weaknesses in school.

Let their strengths shine at work and play.

The Bounty

Wild deliberations, imaginatively bred, cerebrally adrift on contemplative seas, evocatively swelling disproportionately sly arrhythmically attuned courageously attired.

I imagine it's still tantalizing to freely circumnavigate the globe, it may have been done ad infinitum but must still impress vessel-type depending.

In The Bounty, the rigid captain has it in sight as a resolute goal, but gives up after inclement weather bombards his ships for weeks on end.

He still reaches his destination where his hearty men modestly indulge themselves, the tropical climate and easy living a well-earned break from life at sea.

But for the celebratory accomplished return trip he wants to test the stormy waters again, to stubbornly realize his lofty objective which was wisely abandoned with sobre regret. 

His men have grown quite sick of the imposition of discipline at sea however, and many of them miss their island comforts with far fewer rules and regulations and lashes. 

Fearing they'll never make it, they openly launch an audacious mutiny. 

Taking the ship wherever it may go.

Never to see their Native homeland again. 

The Bounty takes an imperious shine to top-down order and absolutist reckoning, affirmatively upholding old school codes of efficient conduct and divine faith.

Circumnavigating the globe would have no doubt been a noteworthy accomplishment, to look back upon in your senior years with loyal disbelief and rebellious fidelity.

Dying in the attempt would have been fruitless and perhaps even mad obsessions pending, although if the captain had been less severe he may have subtly won the crew over.

He isn't a loveable man though and relies more on codes and duty than artful persuasion, unlike his affable mutinous counterpart whom the crew adores with uncompromised feeling. 

To take a ship and just sail off into the wide open salient distance. 

Could you have purchased your own ship and done that way back when?

Is it even possible to do that now?

Flying to Vancouver's crazy expensive.  

The Madness of King George

Foucauldian investigation pending, I still find it odd to see a film from the '90s heavily invested in the monarchy, even though its cherished king briefly loses his mind, and an upstart layabout may indefinitely displace him.

Here you have a critical problem relating to monarchy or autocracy laid bare, what if the king loses his mind and sill continues to fluidly take an active role in government?

I'm more familiar with narratives that take a much more severe look at such potentialities, in order to wisely advocate for democratic institutions, which usually saturate tyrannical ambitions.

The king in this film is adorable however with an encyclopedic knowledge of his domain, he likes animals and knows the details of the intimate lives of even his most theoretically insignificant subjects. 

He finds custom and formality irritating and openly wishes to be less strict, amidst an observant displeased retinue compulsively obsessed with monarchical routine.

Unfortunately, as he becomes more and more friendly and more becoming to democratic sensibilities, he's considered more and more insane and eventually locked up for his communal troubles.

The doctor hired to cure him contrasts his personality with democratic incongruity, he's never read Shakespeare and has no time for pomp but understands his work with utilitarian efficacy. 

Thus the king who is more like a commoner hires a commoner who is more like a king, to save his mind from withering away into petulant unrehearsed trivial lunacy.

The treatment indeed is much less fun than the childish mad king ruling his kingdom, but it does work he's able to return to the head of government without excessive comment.

But even if the king is loveable and wise and caring and erudite, does the potential for debased absolutism not reside inherently within?

How strong are the democratic forces collectively aligned to challenge such aberrations, as absolutist sentiment widely spreads and eventually subsides in cultural familiarity?

Familiarity is no doubt ingratiating but what if it starts illegal wars that ruin the global economy?

Does the familiar become say fruitless? 

To be challenged by the feverish unknown? 

Star Knight

Alien encounters likely stretching back towards the dawn of unrecorded time, with comings and goings awkwardly authenticated through mythical beasts and august miscellany.

Technologically advanced and spiritually endowed with intergalactic frenetic moxie, facilitating custom, ritual and duty, beguilingly acquired through fragmentary permanence. 

The learned scripts and scholarly vicissitudes inarticulately duplicating alien codes, enriched through composite zealotry, credulous passion, and enduring faith. 

At times the bloodline even embraces extraterrestrials with righteous dignity, interplanetary breeding readily accommodated through random hookups and disciplined matrimony. 

The resultant mélange cosmopolitan and frisky encouraging dynamic multidisciplinary overload, as accordant emotion and wilderness whimsy viscerally intertwine with magnetic frenzy. 

In Star Knight, for intriguing instance, an alien descends to monitor humankind, and meets through random accident the nimble daughter of a local ruler.

The people believe his ship to be a dragon and retreat in horror when confronted, his mission peaceful his role observatory his curious action gallant and discerning. 

Seeking to be left exotically alone he amicably returns the maiden to her father, but not without having left her inquisitive and bold regarding the heavens and interstellar union.

A knight seeks her hand as well and is willing to fight to one day receive it, the alien confused by the chivalric ritual and notably uncertain as to how to behave. 

A local alchemist can't believe his luck and thanks the aliens for their coveted gifts.

Before his rivals curse his ambition with routine interminable banality. 

The question remains, what does one say if suddenly greeted by an alien, how should you react, what should you ask, is communication possible, would they try a buffet?

With the different options available at a buffet it's a good place to begin exploring terrestrial culture.

Don't visit the zoo, it may give them the wrong idea.

Cold glass of water.

La Ronde or Canada's Wonderland. 

Outbreak

Suspicious that a virulent plague was able to slip through our sterile defences, and put the whole freakin' world on lockdown, just out of the blue, suddenly, just like that.

Also strange that a resilient vaccine was effectively produced in so little time, and everything ended quite efficiently after the dullest period of postmodern existence.

I suppose that if our medical infrastructure is world renowned then it isn't surprising that a vaccine was developed so quickly, although if a virus was deadly enough to outmaneuver the infrastructure perhaps the vaccine should have taken longer to make.

So boring.

It couldn't have been more blasé.

I was lucky enough to have work and they couldn't cancel walks in the woods, but wide-ranging activities and sundry entertainments could no longer be accessed through direct application.

I was of the mindset that COVID did in fact exist and was malevolently taking on the world, and didn't think it was a hoax collaboratively designed to test drugs and obedience. 

Thus, I disagreed with the anti-vaxxers who saw themselves as freedom fighters, and thought the ways in which they were accessing their freedoms put their communities at risk.

Its origins and eventual spread around the unsuspecting globe do remain mysterious, there's no doubt it did exist, but why or how did it originate?

If it actually commenced in the East how was it able to feverishly escape, since that jurisdiction is already on lockdown with strict governmental oversight concerning everything?

It did escape, nevertheless, and was then dispersed around the globe, why weren't relevant airlines quickly shut down so the spread would obstinately decrease?

Obviously, there hadn't been a global pandemic for over a century and the Earth wasn't ready for old world demands, the interconnected interactive globe somewhat ill-suited to industrious plague.

I felt bad for the politicians who didn't know what to do, struggling to respond to questions they didn't know how to answer.

It was a great time for thoughtful inanity as so many came up with theories, the vast majority of which were incorrect, since really there was little one could do but suffer.

That's not very cheerful though and it doesn't make a very good story.

I still think the pandemic was worse than Trump.

Although things this time round are crazy bad. 

Atomic Cyborg

An apocalyptic take on commercial enterprise blends technology with fluent discord, as a reluctant cyborg ill-equipped to kill arm-wrestles a country diner where they're none too friendly. 

Sent to take out a messianic figure organically disposed to sustainable environmentalism, his conscience overtakes his imperial conditioning before he cuts loose for the low-key boondocks. 

His programmers are exceedingly frustrated and quickly set out to locate their merchandise, enlisting murderous ostentatious cacophonies to zero-in upon their quarry.

Meanwhile, he indeed be chillin' with a new job without much responsibility, for the first 24 hours or so anyways before he suddenly finds he's most unwelcome.

Being a cyborg has its advantages and he discovers he's quite the arm-wrestler nonetheless, and as feral champions gawk in awe he swiftly earns a lucrative income. 

But if he can be given an overhaul he may become an elite assassin, the mad conspirators running wild with seditious intent and gratuitous whimsy.

He does his best, just tryin' to get by, but ruthless conflict keeps on a callin'.

Doesn't hurt to be a cyborg however. 

Wildly attuned to chaotic endeavours. 

*Are cyborgs really like that dad? Do they still have thoughts and feelings? 

**As far as I know son, as far as I know. Although I think they're made with titanium. 

*That muscular bearded man we saw canoeing by himself last summer, he was a cyborg right?

**He looked like one, that's for sure, although I can't make an accurate call.

*I thought William from way back was a cyborg because he was so good at math, but then I saw his handwriting and figured he couldn't be a secret robot.

**I've never heard of cyborg children. I imagine they're like vampire children and Bene Gesserit children, abominations. 

*That would be weird being their teacher.

**No doubt son, no doubt.

*Cyborg-High the show might be cool though.

**I'd watch that for sure.

*Principal Schwarzeneggar?

**Professors Biehn and Hamilton.

*Popular with the A.I contingent.

**They're huge these days. Could be a thang.

Mojave Moon

Bored and withdrawn yet colourfully animated, a middle-aged carsalesperson orbits his existence, neither dissatisfied nor sincerely content, he curiously acquiesces to life's tomfoolery. 

The unexpected then emerging and quaintly tantalizing as he considers a proposal, a long day a drive into the unknown the desert notwithstanding its sweltering synergies. 

He's been recruited, a gorgeous damsel has indeed been locked down with abject familiarity, as has her daughter the brute's ambition for eternal stasis insipidly solidified. 

He doesn't quite understand the details the grand misfortune accompanying the fam, nor why he's there nor what he's to do with no explanation forthcoming aloha. 

The brute sees his happiness ruined as the tradition he loves is threatened by others, and conceives a rotten and fiendish yet clever plan to simultaneously dispose of his oblivious rivals. 

The desert abandoned things haunting peculiar when the trusted saviour finds a dead body in his trunk.

After which people steal his car.

Not boring.

Still one of those days. 

*Best not to grow too attached to things, eh dad, like the psycho in this movie?

**It's okay to be attached to things son, but you also have to be open to structural change. 

*I guess that kind of makes sense. Sometimes I hate it when things change, but at others it's kind of fun. 

**It's a shame you can't manage the unknown factor like a science experiment or a 500 word essay.

*But wouldn't that bring about artistic ruin?

**I suppose that's correct son. I suppose that's correct. 

Overboard

Absolutely adapting grandiose manifest in synthetic conjunctive rigamarole, as bucolic mystery enigmatically sheathes ostentatious origins through disenchantment.

A new life exceedingly envelopes the opulent damsel with thrifty means, and previously underdeveloped expectations suddenly take on didactic schmooze. 

It's a trick of course her new husband and family disbelieving their luck, as the oblivious plutocrat who blindly cheated them randomly shows up with amnesia. 

It's a new era in their lives, constructively complete with domestic bearings, instantaneously overwhelmed with comatose conjecture and improvised charm.

The lighter touch and the less severe endemic countenances prove endearing, a natural fit bewilderingly unbeknownst to the heartfelt darling metamorphosized. 

Yet as her unconscious helplessly seeks a broader path upon which to exemplify, her waking hours embrace play with mesmerized mischief and sincere conjuring. 

Should she choose to stay if she wakes up with consciousness accrued?

Or munificently synthesize the disparate means?

With bold immiscibility.

And thoroughbred temper.

*Is that how you and mom met dad?

**Not exactly son, not exactly.

*Does that kind of thing happen a lot?

**I imagine so son, I imagine so.

*I guess there are all kinds of ways people meet, you've got to be ready for anything. 

**It's important, takes time and care. 

*Flexibility.

**Tidal tenses. 

*Ebb and flow.

**Mercurial routine. 

Trucks

Machinery has on awkward occasion posed philosophical questions while at work, the consistent use of fuel-powered-entities blended with distraction leading to hypotheses. 

Such theories no doubt imaginatively aided by consistently observing different narratives throughout life, the uncanny ludicrous application of televisual conceit to work and play.

But if oil and gas is eventually created as life inevitably dissolves, it was therefore once indubitably alive in possession of thought and spirit and appetite (Plato).

Machines inarguably seem inanimate when not turned on when lying dormant, with no fuel warmly generating power to encourage motion and requisite function. 

But when active does the fuel they burn once composed of life once again draw breath?, ontologically igniting ancient schematics blueprints attuned to reanimation. 

As the reignited organic material takes hold of the metallic construction, it nurtures different kinds of behaviour, which is why machines seem like they have personalities. 

Thus, one takes it easy with older machines less intimately acquainted with flexible immediacy, while it's fun to reasonably play with brand new constructions recently made.

Trucks takes things to the next level and gleefully removes the human factor, the trucks indeed suddenly turning on their once unsuspecting masters.

As they take over the small town of Bridgeton there's little that the lords can do.

Besides try to find a way to get out of there.

Before machine-kind embodies absolute rule. 

*Isn't this what you'd call crackpottery dad, machines coming to life and killing everyone?

**That's certainly an argument you can make son, although the off-kilter theory still mystifies.

*Tough to stop your mind from wandering when doing boring stuff, isn't it dad?

**It's helped to make so many cool stories.

*I still don't think machines are alive.

**You're probably right. But, really, who's to say? 

*Sigh. Okay, maybe driverless cars are a bad idea.

**Good to keep humans in the loop son.

*No doubt. I don't know what I was thinking.

**A.I can't freakin' drive cars. 

*Loved the station wagon. 

The Bear

The age old urge to hunt still widely adopted by many across the land, the animals vastly outnumbered by our ever increasing population.

It does seem like our trusty home planet can't sustain even more eager hunting, although the hunters themselves are often some of the keenest environmentalists. 

They've effectively worked to create a system that monitors resident animal populations, and efficiently gives out requisite tags meticulously designed to keep up the numbers.

It's not something I would ever do I'm so harmless I hesitate to squash mosquitoes, but if wildlife populations can sustain hunting, letting people hunt is much less cumbersome than banning it.

As I've mentioned before, it's also a good way for many Northern families to get food during the winter, which is often shared throughout the community, and if wisely managed, animal populations aren't threatened (and people aren't grumpy).

I don't like trophy hunting however and the arguments will never convince me,  I may agree with someone just to shut them up, but I'll never support superfluous animal killing.

At least if people are using modern weapons and elaborate technology to track the animals, our advantage is so lopsided that I don't see any skill or honour in the undertaking.

An animal like a bear is usually harmless anyways, they often just go about their business eating a routine vegetarian diet. 

They're nothing like the openly hostile xenomorphs in the Alien franchise, whose natural instincts unilaterally demand they never stop fighting no matter what.

If you wanted to hunt an animal and you were simply dropped off in the bush somewhere, and you had to survive with what the wilderness provides, and construct your weapons from natural material, then hunting becomes more honourable, but I still don't see the point.

Neither did Jean-Jacques Annaud when he made his beautiful film The Bear, wherein which we find a loveable cub living and dreaming on its own in the Northern wilderness.

Delicately within, he tenderly presents ursine sublimity through natural wonder, to humbly suggest why not just leave these solitary shy individuals alone?

It's a really cool thing when you see a bear just move away slowly and keep your distance.

Bear populations don't bounce back quickly.

They're not hurting anyone.

Why bother hunting them? 

Doctor Dolittle

Interspecies communication does still at times remain mysterious, wilderness whimsy and domestic thrills elusively cloaked in restrained viscosity. 

Observation as opposed to communication may lead to less accusations of eccentricity, as people less familiar with the natural world inadvertently gaze with nostalgic wonder.

Food and shelter, warmth and comfort, still effectively govern so much animal life, with a steady supply of tasty treats so many wild creatures no doubt relax.

Not to the point of close interactions, should you be seen they'll likely retreat, unless they become crazy accustomed to your presence and learn to trust you through acts of goodwill (no word of a lie, a squirrel just jumped on my head! [crazy! {then scampered away}]).

A raccoon was crossing a road in front of me so I took some hasty opaque photos, before I decided to squeak or make a noise that suddenly startled him, so he ran up a tree.

Then I got some good photos as he turned to inspect what had made the sound, although he didn't remain still for very long, and I didn't get as many as I was hoping.

There's a special melody when I whistle when I'm swimming that this year I've adapted to function as bird song, and I whistle it whenever out and about with the unacknowledged guidance of improvised tender. 

It is amazing how much the animals really love their wilderness home, you see a lot of them on nature shows, the injured animals delicately taken care of by concerned staff and dedicated doctors, before being released back into the wild, where they dart off at lightning speed.

It is nice to have your own place to freely return to after work, with your routine and your habitual ways hardly ever criticized as you do this and that.

The ocean must prodigiously function like a limitless migratory freeway, where whales and dolphins can actively chill as days go by from year to year.

Do they think we're angels?

I must admit, I think they do.

There's something about the look in their eyes. 

Like spiritual ecstasy. 

Foaming and frothing.   

Field of Dreams

August absurdity ludicrously smitten unassumingly attempts to fulfill salient dreams, a mysterious voice, haunting and tantalizing, non-traditionally invoking spiritual temper.

The flamboyant drive to lackadaisically imagine random initiatives and residual endeavours, at times resounding with emphatic simplicity so ritualistically clear it sincerely baffles.

In the age of science and reason caution should no doubt effectively guide, otherworldly ambitions fantastically delineated feverishly according to blinding sights.

Nutrient rich celestial reckoning at times practically and concretely frowned upon, literary anguish liberating in sermon creative liturgies divinely improvised. 

Resonant collectivity or "group dynamics" can customarily achieve abstract enlightenment, like Deleuze's bewitching ethereal entities gallantly awaiting throughout the cosmos. 

The acquisition of neighbourly support for goals and objectives interdimensionally transmitted, may lead to athletic industrious "leg work" as disbelief awkwardly materializes. 

Within the transcendental realm as moderately applied to books and film, more cultural leaning may theoretically syndicate poetic jive and cerebral exhibition.

If only a mutually inclusive sociopolitical playing field indeed adopted, harmonious respect for its philosophical counterparts in terms of conscience and inherent curiosity. 

Would asylums then be less committed to the regular detention of debatable "madness", and more efficaciously attuned to cosmopolitan alternative life?

More resources could be spent on the viably insane and they could live in greater comfort, transitioning from one unbeknownst psychology to another and another and another through mental exercise. 

The definitive embrace of elective alternatives seemed like the gold standard years ago, multivariably equating the seemingly incongruous with ephemeral substance and illusory charm.

Multidisciplinary integrity intergalactically fuming with geometric insight, never led to destructive wars or remarkable sudden increases in the price of fuel.

"Build it", indeed I say, "why not?", "there's probably nothing else to do".

Try to finish the project before December.

Then see what's up next year.

Could be fun.  

Office Space

Difficult to know what path to follow as convergent multiplicities stabilize and fluctuate, the sure and steady at times withdrawn, the wild chaotic occasionally solid.

Staying in one position helps you learn more and eventually become a knowledgeable expert, as long as you consistently think about what you're doing and don't get too distracted throughout the day.

Moving around leads to different skills manifestly developed over time, the possibility of learning to work a variety of jobs without ever imaginatively mastering them.

Location can be important, do you like to work inside or outside for instance, downtown or in the countryside, for a small business or a corporation? 

Working online has its benefits since you can productively work from home, and sleep a little bit longer and save on lunch and gas and upkeep.

You miss out on the social dimension often taken for granted at work however, and risk turning into a bizarro shut in if you never have anyone to talk to.

Going to work works well because you get to talk to other people, and learn the effective social skills tacitly governing working life.

If you don't get along well with the people it can be tiresome, nevertheless, and a new position may have to be found where you make a better fit. 

Money can be a huge motivator it is great to make a lot of money, you're able to do so much more and potentially travel and go out for dinner.

If the wage is right there's no possible limit to the variety of things an employee might do, while if it's low freeflowing ambition gradually slips away in the end.

Happiness can be even more of a motivator I'd wager it's worth around $60,000 a year, to make less money - but not too much less - and thoroughly enjoy yourself at work.

You have to spend so much time working why not attempt to achieve contentment?, it's much more appealing than constant flux when you're older, and brings about many more fun days.

Tough to know how to approach it with so many options to fluidly consider.

The most successful people I know have been doing the same thing for most of their lives.

They're really freakin' good at it.

It's cool to see.

Happy May Day!

Denouemental

The sensational appeal of easy money can't be ignored by local entertainers, hellbent on avoiding the grind through clever artifice and dissimulation.

A kind-hearted businessperson distantly known to them suddenly has need of traditional labour, steady jobs which the artists know and are capable of doing if thereby tasked.

Several of them find work in the lavish gardens and fertile fields, intuitively observing the distinguished peace of agile mind accompanying the demands.

Yet performance is their goal the sly creation of a play, to be effectively executed with awkward timing and hapless yet industrious wherewithal.

 

They hope to secure a healthy income through enticing advertising and swift delivery, and hope to convince the commercial architect to wholeheartedly fund their lithe endeavours. 

They put on the show.

He takes it in.

And unfortunately notices that it's terrible.

The resigned actors and actresses noticing the same thing.

The group nevertheless applauding.

The actors continue to sincerely pretend that they've created an unmatched masterpiece, the captivating humour all-encompassing as rehearsals eclectically facilitate. 

The kind-hearted patron sees no need to deconstruct their false impression, and rather enjoys the creative novelty and its distinct lack of flowing melody.

The question remains, will the public like it?, as opening night quickly descends.

Mutual appreciation shortly giving way.

To critical notice and descriptive admiration. 

*Is this how films really get made dad?

**I'm afraid so son, I'm afraid so.

*Do any adults doing anything actually know what they're doing?

**If people like what they do, yes, otherwise, I'm afraid not.

*Sounds like growing up's just a huge waste of time dad.

**Many would agree with you son, although others may contradict you.

*Can we go out for ice cream?

**Yes, son, three scoops each. 

Imbalance

Gaunt exertion dawdling dogma

decadent drool glib secretion

tendril measure octopi artifice 

transfigured lashing emancipation

beguiling flank bemused vanguard

wild orchestration novel schematic

signified solstice eloquent candour

playful transmission ornate circuitry

shortcake swathe strawberry swirl

overwrought twinkle dazzling sapphire

finicky flair impulsive crux

acrimonious tether bittersweet zounds

foolhardy wireless piquant piñata 

blessed exuberance tribal resonance

rhythmic liaison butterfly echo

fortuitous flout agile condition

ominous nougat pulsating strain

flamboyant flicker luminous llama

tweed imposition baritone succulence

disparate jammies megaphonetic

frumpy fruition hapless hokey

blank denomination opaque fugue

obscured variety tactile convenience

debonair dalliance outstretching stake

lemon echinacea zinc zumbaya

caricature Campbell yale distinction 

whippersnap tranq bodacious blend

seditious simmer galavant smooch

minuscule matcha corroded severance

flippant manoeuvre fetching strike

gingembre folk Euclid geometry 

overwhelmed tenure rigamarole 

clandestine hook macaroon marble

Jacoby jousting frenetic salts

distinguished caretaking tense efficiency

panoply puma battlecat cringe

smitten injunction algebraic clatter

corresponding function lay derivative

chatterbox slam garrulous stride

mim interlocutosaur Mardi Gras slaw

monastic bellow kitschy brew

clementine Kraken colluseverity

popinjay fly meditative lounge

croonin' minestroonin' insouperable scythe

yeasty regimen suffragette swerve

itinerant faction velodrome vibe

mutated extraction nutrient smarm

tentacle triage gumpty disjuncty

nuisance lynchpinnacle pineapple scrubs

finagle flounce novel interjection

camelotuscany lithic amplitude

crustacean skedad' sequin membrane.   

Embargo

A lot of the time nothing happens, it's just another pit stop on random travels through remote deep space.

Not that a special still isn't prepared with intergalactic creative agency, the spices and flavours universally attuned to sociointerplanetary blends.

Some courageous voyagers intermittently get stuck from time to time, and elaborately engage in improvised storytelling with neither point nor plan nor passion. 

Others are predictably happy since they know a meal will be provided, and they'll see familiar faces, and casually observe the fractious horseplay. 

Never to be overstated with cold calculating brevity, the habitual mélange of success and struggles encouraging mischief if subtly displayed.

There is naturally the gallant explorer who likes to keep in touch with everyone, and smoothly offers his freeform hand with sincere friendship when they meet.

Recklessly juxtaposed with morose envy which can't get along with anyone drifting onboard.

Factions wondering how they'll interact.

As the political climate ebbs and flows.

The featured characters would have seemed less impressive if they hadn't been imaginatively endowed, with curious examples from different planets graciously spread throughout the galaxy.

Teaching others traditional means and orthodox methods of entertaining, playfully leads to animate constructs independently achieved through clashing customs. 

Relevant enough to any spaceport individualistically thriving off planet, while embracing collective distinction through subjective artifice and lucid transmission. 

Introducing new characters mid-film can be a risky venture, but lightening the mood with Andromedan tenure helped further build the antagonistic crescendo. 

Steadfast solar bemused credentials.

Mixed with resolute indifference.

Nothing too fancy,  light interstellar luxuries. 

Embargo snatches up novelties. 

With longlasting themes.  

Reflexiconstruct

Cartoon flecktone barracuda

lapis lazuli gingérent fluke

illusory scan Gaelic mélange

artisanal splice ornate plume

plasticine plinth claytent augur

clandestine groove sentiment Sally

blithe melancholia district solute

murky emulsion immiscible mood

stipending glisten jettison jolt

snuffefluff straw syndicate sneer

Ma & Pa Kettle salt-of-the-Earth

instructive knowhow routine capacity

galvanized structure thriving schoon'

exquisite pomp lobsty-kablobsky

obstinate glee stubborn splendour

grubstake galley saturnine swish

gushing torrent acquiesced 'clusion

crystalline glut blindside berm

supple kerfuffle roundabout truffle

pluscious portico flotsalmon flim'

cul-de-sacrosanct hearty victuals

chevalier spike shifting gears

lotto gelato cavernous grotto

elusive shades stoic inflection

insolent tender bold delineation

humidor haven hamstrung shard

critter calculi fold combustion

strict exhaust airtight filter

viacondor bereft digression

wholegrain flounce digestive aid

pomegranitely saccharine shivers

Odessa artistry Corinthian cruise

disintegration journeyman jaunt

arcane extension butterscotch bloom

starch chuckleberry candlelit quantum 

rooty panflutey maladroit glen

efficient cycle rolodex reticence

transistor torrent Kraken deluge

regardless flair banal simplicity

regal temperance haywire hospice

spacious enclosure fictive friction

yeteatime travel homeostasis

temptation trickle fly tributary 

ossified flow frenetic fleuve

engulfed exertion tenement treacle

blustering bandits lodgepole pine

inverted caution commercial break

fluffy and snuffly suger shack bake 

discus Invictus inhabited hostie

oblong tabernac fractious frenzy

vessel carestle burgeoning tresel 

watershed cheshire serenadine.