Author: Mike P. Lewis

Unbearable Lightness

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I just finished reading the book The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. Man, that’s a great book. It’s philosophical and real at the same time. All four characters in the book as so disillusioned, their stories are totally captivating Some of my favorite passages are below.

The first is a great one and reminds me of my friend Suan whose biggest fear is being mediocre. It also really resonated with me. Growing up, my dad often said the hardest thing about going to a public school is remember to keep pushing yourself. It’s something that i never forgot, although sometimes i wonder “to what end?” because it’s exhausting. That thought came to mind during this passage…

Anyone whose goal is to expect something higher must expect some day to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? Then why do we feel it even when the observation tower comes equipped with a sturdy handrail? No, vertigo is something other than the fear of falling. It is the voice of emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves.

The other passage i read made me think about my good friend Clyde. It is interesting how people who constantly sleep around can dismiss it as “looking for the ideal” and justifying their being alone as being a romantic. I think Clyde fits more into the epic category although i also think there is redemption in his case as he does feel disappointed…

Men who pursue a multitude of women fit neatly into two categories. Some seek their own subjective and unchanging dream of a woman in all women. Others are prompted by a desire to possess the endless variety of the objective female world.

The obsession of the former is lyrical: what they seek in women is themselves, their ideal, and since an ideal is by definition something that can never be found, they are disappointed again and again. The disappointment that propels them from woman to woman gives their inconstancy a kind of romantic excuse

The obsession of the latter is epic, the man projects no subjective ideal on women, and since everything interests him, nothing can disappointed him. This inability to be disappointed has something scandalous about it. The obsession of the epic womanizer strikes people as lacking in redemption (redemption by disappointment)

The final quote is one discussion the inner soul versus his outer appearance and an eyes open vs. eyes shut debate. It discusses why 2 different people might prefer during sex to do one or the other (i’m keeping this post PG. If you want the heat, get the book)…

Living for Sabina meant seeing. Seeing is limited by two borders: strong light, which blinds, and total darkness….

The pleasure for Franz and his body called for darkness. The darkness for him was pure, perfect, thoughtless, visionless; that darkness was without end, without borders; that darkness was the infinite we each carry within us…

…But the larger a man grows in his own inner darkness, the more his outer form diminishes. A man with closed eyes is a wretch of a man.

All in all, it is a fantastic book. If you haven’t read it, you should pick it up. You can get it on Amazon here (link)

Freeway: A Reese Witherspoon and Keifer Sutherland Whacked-out Movie

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I was cruising through Blockbuster the other day and saw Kiefer and Reese on the cover of a movie called Freeway. I had never heard of it before and immediately thought it might be a cooler version of the steamy Charlie Sheen/Kristie Swanson (what happened to her?) movie The Chase. So, i went home and ordered it up on Netflix.

I have now just watched it and i’m utterly speechless. That movie was half brilliant, half totally insane. It could be a satire of serial killer movies or it could be one of the worst movies ever, i’m not sure. I’m hoping it’s the former.

Let me fill you in on the plot:

We begin with Reese Witherspoon in school and realize she’s both white trash and a total moron. She can’t read the sentence “The cat spills milk” from the blackboard. On her way home from school to her run-down white trash house she sees her mom (Amanda Plummer) first turning tricks and then getting arrested for prostitution. Minutes later the cops pick up her step-dad (after he does some crack and then tries to have sex with Reese).

Keep in mind, Reese is dressed in a very short skirt and a red leather coat. She’s supposed to be a modern day trashy Little Red Riding Hood.

Anyway, the foster care people come to get her, but she cuffs them to her bed and hits the road, i.e. The Freeway! She stops to get a gun from her gangster (but with a big heart) boyfriend, who immediately after Reese leaves, is gunned down in a drive-by shooting. After being on the freeway for 10 minutes, the car breaks down and she’s picked up by Kiefer (named Bob Wolverton)

While posing as a high-school counselor, Kiefer gets her to open up and bare her soul. We learn about her abuse and how she was molested by her foster parents. Kiefer nods understandingly, then in turn tries to rape her too. Why? Because, of course, he’s the I-5 serial killer (of young white girls) that’s been on the lam for months. Being somewhat crafty, Reese gets her gun and turns the tables on him. She then starts to interrogate him (Why do you kill girls? Have you accepted Jesus as your savior?), and then puts a bullet in his brain and leaves him for dead. After pumping 6 shells into him, she logically goes to the closest diner and woofs down a bunch of pancakes and eggs (i mean, who wouldn’t).

We are now 20 minutes into the movie.

After her meal, as she comes out of the diner, Reese is instantly arrested, interrogated and sent to an all-girls prison. In prison, she starts a fight with the alpha-female (to establish control) and is thrown into solitary confinement. In “the hole” she goes Macgyver-like and make a makeshift knife out of plastic and saran wrap. She is then released from “the hole” and has a lesbian session with Brittney Murphy and literally utters the phrase, “i’ll make out with you but no fuckin’. I’m straight.” She hides a knife in her (literally: it’s in a tampon) and then escapes (using the knife) to Mexico where she becomes a prostitute to raise money.

While she’s on the lam, new evidence comes to light and the cops realize Kiefer is the serial killer (as Reese was saying all along) and she was thus justified in trying to escape from him. Kiefer’s wife (Brooke Shields) is told by the cops that her husband is a serial killer, and immediately kills herself (in another great Suddenly Susan-esque performance).

Kiefer knows Reese is headed to her grandma’s, so he gets there first, kills grandma, puts on her bathrobe and gets into bed and waits for Reese to show up – completing the Little Red Riding Hood theme.

I won’t ruin the movie for you and let you know how it ends, but i’m sure you can figure it out.  One thing i can assure you – all this i just described really happens in this movie. It is completely insane and i enjoyed every minute of it.

If you’re looking to kill 90 minutes and need a completely unpredictable story, you should hit The Freeway up.

Americans in Love Actually

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I recently watched the enjoyable chick-flick Love Actually.  While i really liked the movie, I found it interesting that every American portrayed in the movie is basically a complete American stereotype.  They’re what Europeans see Americans as:

  • An american at the elementary school.  Of course the mom is a big entertainment star. America is all about media and fame.
  • We see 3 girls from U of Wisconsin who are dumb, ridiculously hot and pretty slutty.  Again, typical view of Americans by our british counterparts.  Of course, having been to Madison campus – i’m not sure how much I disagree.  I kid, i kid.
  • A dumb, morally challenged, arrogant US President played beautifully by Billy Bob Thorton.

Sure Americans put British people as the evil character in lots of movies (see Star Wars, Braveheart, and countless others), but do we have to be shameless stereotyped in their films?  .

Mutual Appreciation: Not a Bad Indie Flick

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This past weekend i checked out the uber-indie flick Mutual Appreciation. At first, i was completely bored, but then i began to notice that the film has some real brilliance.

The movie is about kids in the 20-30 year old post-college trying-to-figure-it out stage. The dialogue and self-awareness of the characters in the movie are dead-on. Most movies today over-narrate or even have voice-overs telling you exactly what’s happening every step of the way. This film instead builds scenes using awkward pauses, glances by the characters, and body language which is much more authentic and real.

The movie is about a recent college grad, Alan, who is a musician and leaves a busted-up band for New York. He tries to stay focused and fends off all types of distractions, including the attraction to his good friend’s girlfriend. There are some great scenes in the movie and some of the things i particularly liked are:

  • There is a strange series of events that occur when Alan stops by a party well after it has finished and hangs out with 3 drunk women. Normally this would result is a bizarre series of events that’s pretty funny but instead this film portrays how current gender relations have shifted and in today’s post-feminist era women end up completely dominating tentative males
  • The songs played in the film are really good. The first song, “Things are what you make of them” by Bishop Allen is a great tune. I tried to find out what the other ones were, but couldn’t. If anyone knows. please drop me a line (or comment below)
  • The movie is just raw and it is in a good way.
  • The dialogue is extremely accurate to what guys and girls age 22-30 would talk like. There are about 4 scenes in this movie that are exactly the same as my experiences in NY – the awkward and pompous dialogue of the over-educated and under employed sitting around acting sophisticated while drinking wine and staying up late.
  • In places you’d normally expect something to happen – like an event – nothing does. Instead, you see someone get verbally rejected or visually stimulated. This isn’t a movie about events but rather emotions. Depending on what type of movie watcher you are, this could be a great thing or a horrible thing.

(also, here’s a link (here) to an interview with one of the stars from the movie)

Albert’s Relative Love

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This is a reminder that today is Albert Einstein’s birthday. If he were still alive in 2007, he would turn 128.

Albert Einstein tourism destinations

Few people realize that the Nobel Prize winner married his cousin, Elsa Einstein Lowenthal, after his first marriage dissolved in 1919. Elsa was Albert’s first cousin (maternally) and his second cousin (paternally). She was 3 years older than Albert, and had nursed him to health after he suffered a partial nervous breakdown combined with a severe stomach ailment. No children resulted from this marriage.

Albert stated that he was attracted to Elsa because she was “well endowed.” In fact, he postulated that if you are attracted to women with large breasts, the attraction is stronger when there is a DNA connection. This came to be known as “Einstein’s Special Theory of Relative Titty.”

I know, i know, that was bad. But i do like how Albert is not only a frickin’ genius but also the undisputed champion of incest chicken. Sorry Liz, Al wins.

Endless Highway – An Album of Covers of The Band

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The group The Band is legendary. For over a decade (1965-75) they produced some timeless and influential music.  In fact, Rolling Stone ranked them #50 in the list of 100 Top Artists All-Time.

Recently a new album came out called Endless Highway where some of today’s most talented and popular artists covered their best tracks. The album contains performances from Jack Johnson, My Morning Jacket, Death Cab for Cutie, Widespead Panic, Jakob Dylan (son of bob), Gomez and more.  Some of the tracks are truly great, while others are just lame covers.

My favorites are Gomez’s Up on Cripple Creek, Stage Fright, Death Cab’s Rocking Chair, Jack Johnson’s I Shall Be Released, Josh Turner’s When I Paint My Masterpiece, and MMJ’s Makes No Difference.

I’ve zipped up the entire album for you to download. Click to here do so. Have a listen and let me know what you think of it

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Quotes from Feast of Love

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For no reason at all i picked up the book Feast of Love today. It’s a great book, one of my favorites. Here are two quotes from it. The first is an interesting story about Kierkegaard. The second just nails the sadness and self-reflection of Charles Baxter, the main character and narrator.

feastKierkegaard, the Danish philosopher fell in love with an attractive girl, Regine Olsen, and then he had concluded that they would be incompatible, that the love was mistaken, that he himself was so complex and she was simple, and he contrived to break the engagement so as to give the appearance that it was the young lady’s fault, not his.

He succeeded in breaking the engagement, in never marrying her. Cowardice was probably involved here. Kierkegaard wished to believe that the fault lay with the nature of love itself, the problem of love, its fate in his life. From the personal he extrapolated to the general. A philosopher’s trick. Regine married another man and moved away from Copenhagen to the West Indies, but Kierkegaard, the knight of faith, carried a burning torch for her, in the form of his philosophy, the rest of his days. This is madness of a complex lifelong variety. He spent his career writing philosophy that would, among other things, justify his actions toward Regine Olsen. He died of a warped spine.

For some reason it give me great pleasure to read of someone who, out of bitterness of letting his love get away, spent an entire career postulating that love & God can’t be spoken of and are thus dying. Just think what the religion and philosophy worlds might have been had he just gone through with the marriage. Oh, but then again, he literally did not have any backbone.

Now, here’s the 2nd…

What’s agitating about solitude is the inner voice telling you that you should be mated to somebody, that solitude is a mistake. The inner voice doesn’t care about who you find. It just keeps pestering you, tormenting you – if you happen to be me – with homecoming queens first, then girls next door, and finally anybody who might be pleased to see you now and then at the dinner table and in bed on occasion. You look up from reading the newspaper and realize that no one loves you, and no one burns for you. The workings of nature are mysterious, but they do account for a certain amount of despair among single persons, the irrelevance you sometimes feel.

Just so you know, he (Charles) does end up with someone at the end.  So, the world is just and it does end well (for him at least).

What is Intelligence?

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I read this story today written by Isaac Asimov:

What is intelligence, anyway? When I was in the army, I received the kind of aptitude test that all soldiers took and, against a normal of 100, scored 160. No one at the base had ever seen a figure like that, and for two hours they made a big fuss over me. (It didn’t mean anything. The next day I was still a buck private with KP – kitchen police – as my highest duty.)

All my life I’ve been registering scores like that, so that I have the complacent feeling that I’m highly intelligent, and I expect other people to think so too. Actually, though, don’t such scores simply mean that I am very good at answering the type of academic questions that are considered worthy of answers by people who make up the intelligence tests – people with intellectual bents similar to mine?

For instance, I had an auto-repair man once, who, on these intelligence tests, could not possibly have scored more than 80, by my estimate. I always took it for granted that I was far more intelligent than he was. Yet, when anything went wrong with my car I hastened to him with it, watched him anxiously as he explored its vitals, and listened to his pronouncements as though they were divine oracles – and he always fixed my car.

Well, then, suppose my auto-repair man devised questions for an intelligence test. Or suppose a carpenter did, or a farmer, or, indeed, almost anyone but an academician. By every one of those tests, I’d prove myself a moron, and I’d be a moron, too. In a world where I could not use my academic training and my verbal talents but had to do something intricate or hard, working with my hands, I would do poorly. My intelligence, then, is not absolute but is a function of the society I live in and of the fact that a small subsection of that society has managed to foist itself on the rest as an arbiter of such matters.

Consider my auto-repair man, again. He had a habit of telling me jokes whenever he saw me. One time he raised his head from under the automobile hood to say: “Doc, a deaf-and-mute guy went into a hardware store to ask for some nails. He put two fingers together on the counter and made hammering motions with the other hand. The clerk brought him a hammer. He shook his head and pointed to the two fingers he was hammering. The clerk brought him nails. He picked out the sizes he wanted, and left. Well, doc, the next guy who came in was a blind man. He wanted scissors. How do you suppose he asked for them?”

Indulgently, I lifted by right hand and made scissoring motions with my first two fingers. Whereupon my auto-repair man laughed raucously and said, “Why, you dumb jerk, He used his voice and asked for them.” Then he said smugly, “I’ve been trying that on all my customers today.” “Did you catch many?” I asked. “Quite a few,” he said, “but I knew for sure I’d catch you.” “Why is that?” I asked. “Because you’re so goddamned educated, doc, I knew you couldn’t be very smart.”

And I have an uneasy feeling he had something there.