yourname

i slept thru the vice party and a never made it to a dirty shame.

but today. today i saw tsai ming-liang's Vive L'Amour.

i was in a rush after to get to my "job" -- i wanted to say gig but my friend pat hates when i refer to things i've been hired for as "gigs" -- on the westside (videotaping audience reactions).
i had little time or mental space for the weight that the film would have on me right at this moment.

i came home after a very long day and i broke down. that film stripped me and reminded me of so many human faults that we're all fucking powerless to... so I fell hard and I suddenly hurt from that last scene. i suddenly empathized, hours later. and i am more upset now that there were so few people in the theater, to see this film that hardly ever shows on film in a theater in los angeles, let alone in the US.

i once read a comment on vive l'amour that while the film wasn't "enjoyable" it was certainly great and important to witness. and i have to say i liked it, but it is hard to admit one enjoys such quiet brutality. mind you there's no violence in this movie save a suicide attempt and even that's very very mild. maybe that's what made it so brutal. its silence occupied a large, negative space, highlighting that small, white heat core of these three lonely lives.