Der siebente Kontinent (The Seventh Continent)

Difficult to know where to find spiritual fulfillment within cultures dominated by dubious markets, consistently disseminating similar messages decade after decade epoch after epoch.

Nevertheless, if you cast a wide cultural net you may find remarkable alternative variability, assuming you don't limit yourself to the present and sample manifold styles and rhythms. 

If your culture micromanages music and only lets certain styles and messages get through, it could certainly become excessively tedious as the years slowly pass and nothing changes.

If your culture does accept new styles and genres and continuously strives to develop new markets, as long as the difference thoughtfully compels, it can be much less depressing than totalitarianism.

I watched a ton of television in my youth and became quite adept at channel surfing, finding shows that became lasting favourites which I regularly watched and routinely recorded.

The world of television made perfect sense and I could predict things that were going to happen, having un/consciously consumed so many narratives that entertaining developments became shockingly familiar.

I eventually moved away though started travelling around the country, and many of the places I stayed had no cable television, so I slowly moved away from the once cherished medium.

Eventually, more than a decade had gone by and I found that when I had the opportunity to turn on the TV, I wasn't as impressed as I had been in my youth, and questioned why I had spent so much time watching it.

I had actually found other cool things to do which imaginatively nurtured less manufactured thoughts, and although hardly anyone ever wanted to talk to me, I still found different ways to randomly express them.

It was like my mind was energized and my spirit enjoyed its liberation, you may not understand what a lot of people are talking about, but there's an uplifting world far beyond mainstream television.

Instrumental music made a big difference too as I imagined different scenarios in differing degrees, laidback listening to the incredible solos the inspired teamwork the emphatic orchestrations. 

Silent walks in natural environments made a huge difference as well with cool animal sightings. 

Defying the totalitarian void.

Unlike the family in The Seventh Continent. 

*Criterion keyword: chilli. 

Code inconnu: Récit incomplet de divers voyages (Code Unknown)

Indeterminate reactions sidestepping stimuli, attempts to integrate impressionistic zeal, melded with studied yet experimental role play, opportune emphasis, vernacular vixen.

Pumpernickel panache intuited hesitant precocious pantried parasol protocol, emergent revelation anodyne rubric ecstatic reservation lands unknown.

Subtle or daring cryptic courageous imperative nondescript agile evanescence, manifold merged transformative mysteries maestro a' mewing critically conscious. 

Restive receptive quizzical consommé piecemeal perceptive narrative legend, dwelling itinerant quadrants continuums amorous crooned cartographical quay.

Descriptive departure rhapsodic rapids whippoorwill whirlwind cortical calm, dorsal fin dreamy demonstrative dashing zephyrous zigzag literal lounge.

Nautically nestled lampooned luminescence solemn centripetal sermonized soirée, exotic exodus fermenting fusions coastal consensus taciturn tracts.

Vehement vessels ensconced equilibrium qualms quotients choral affirméd flotilla, doughty destination irrelevant rations unparlayed particulars maritime motion.

Envisioned intricate haphazard hijinks amusingly harmonized holistic surf, assertive rebuffles distraught notwithstanding inquisitive mischievous mirth.

Mundane immersive inevitable unchanging unified concordant prediction, intermittently erupting through humdrum monotonous atonal routine seas.

Variety unsurpassed inexplicably tactile imaginative gripping re-emergence, delicately embraces expansionist curious interactive proclivities. 

Patterns cherished patterns critiqued patterns belovéd patterns disdained, corresponding cohesions upheavals erratically nuanced through mood in flux.

Ever onwards agendas uncharted heuristic random anticipated happenstance, at times successful at others disheartening fluid trajectories fun intercessions. 

The pressing break of day landlubbing routine discordant seclusion.

Tasty latté ready to go.

Subconscious synergies.

Active stasis.

*That's my take on Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir's first date. If they ever really went out.

Amour

As an elderly couple settles into their daily routine, a crass unnoticed paradigmatic indiscretion, delivered with the same engendered clarity that may have often been a past passionate progenitor of amicable conjugal rage, is adorned by the traditional romantic reversal of fortunes, but this time they're accompanied by a direct physiological collapse, which culminates in the paralysis of Anne's (Emmanuelle Riva) left side.

Emotions run deep within husband Georges's (Jean-Louis Trintignant) struggles to rationally contain his unceasing grief.

His wits remain voluble and he's brittlely yet staunchly prepared for the logical and humanistic impairments of respective relatives and infirmières.

Attempts to ascertain one's dignity resonate as appearances must be qualified by brash benevolent exceptions.

Stoically exemplifying the lifelong dedication of a loving married couple, examining the conversational results of a relationship existing without distinct verbal limits, Michael Haneke's Amour no longer seeks to loquaciously dominate, but simply to be, to reflect, to bask, semantically dishevelling the tenants of prediction with none of the bells and whistles often used to set such scenes.

Just raw quotidian patient enduring dependent classical shock.

Still feeling the affects three hours later.