The screams filled the room. They filled the air she breathed. They filled her life.
She opened her eyes and looked down at her baby, enjoying the moment. She always wanted to be needed and now her baby was again longing for her attention. She was needed and the world had a warm tint of ochre that felt like the last ray of sun in summer.
She always loved sunsets.
But it was dark already. The day was gone and, once again, her baby needed to sleep.
She switched on the spinning lamp and started singing the soft tune of the only lullaby she knew, and the baby's lament became immediately softer. She stood up where he could see her. The tune became a story, and she became the characters, her hands were the dragons and princes, the princesses and the castles of her lullaby. Their stories were flying around the room gently soothing the baby's cry. It did not take long before it mitigated. She could feel his eyes fixed on her, dreaming already of that far away land. It was the sweetest of lullabies, she thought, and wondered for a moment how would she know. She never heard any other before. She realised then how she lost track of the story for a moment, but her baby was finally asleep. So she tenderly kissed his forehead and left the room quietly.
The shapes of dragons and princes, of princesses and castles kept moving from the spinning lamp, filling the room, filling the air that she breathed and filling her life. In the cradle, with a cold blue tone that was already turning into a soft black, laid a tiny corpse.
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Friday, 11 March 2011
Saturday, 13 November 2010
The term 'Lynchian' by David Foster Wallace
I was not that interested in David Lynch. Mainly because I had only seen three of his films and some of his short films: (1) Mulholland Drive, which I saw in my early twenties and was the first movie I enjoyed watching (maybe enjoying is not the best word to describe this, as the movie is quite unsettling) despite having absolutely no idea what the whole thing was about; (2) Dune, which is so bad that I immediately assumed Lynch was an artist who had tried and failed catastrophically to be a filmmaker; (3) Blue Velvet, which again I thought it was a good movie but also immensely unsettling, creepy and pretty much without a point; (4) a collection of his short films, which confirmed my suspicion that David Lynch was an artist and certainly not a filmmaker or anything close.
My friend, who is one of those rare kind of people with enough sense and wits in his brain as to suffer from all the world's incongruences, recommended me to read David Foster Wallace's 'A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again', a collection of essays on different matter subjects. One of the essays is about David Lynch, and on one particular instance he explains what the term 'Lynchian' means. Here is his first definition ("academic") of the term: "refers to a particular kind of irony where the very macabre and the very mundane combine in such a way as to reveal the former's perpetual containment within the latter." I, being Spanish and naturally a slow reader, had to read it three times to get the full meaning of the concept, but once assimilated it opened a new door to understanding David Lynch's movies and his strong influence on a generation of filmmakers that includes Jim Jarmusch, Quentin Tarantino, the Coen brothers and Carl Franklin.
This essay (and the book once you are there!) is a key piece that I strongly recommend to anyone interested in filmmaking, whether you love, hate or, like myself was, are indifferent about David Lynch. For my part, I am currently watching the entire Twin Peaks collection (I was the only kid in my class, probably in the school even, who never watched the series... and I hated Laura Palmer for that), including the series, movies, documentaries and anything really that falls into my hands about it, and have a pile of David Lynch movies to watch and re-watch. I'll let you know when I get to the end.
My friend, who is one of those rare kind of people with enough sense and wits in his brain as to suffer from all the world's incongruences, recommended me to read David Foster Wallace's 'A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again', a collection of essays on different matter subjects. One of the essays is about David Lynch, and on one particular instance he explains what the term 'Lynchian' means. Here is his first definition ("academic") of the term: "refers to a particular kind of irony where the very macabre and the very mundane combine in such a way as to reveal the former's perpetual containment within the latter." I, being Spanish and naturally a slow reader, had to read it three times to get the full meaning of the concept, but once assimilated it opened a new door to understanding David Lynch's movies and his strong influence on a generation of filmmakers that includes Jim Jarmusch, Quentin Tarantino, the Coen brothers and Carl Franklin.This essay (and the book once you are there!) is a key piece that I strongly recommend to anyone interested in filmmaking, whether you love, hate or, like myself was, are indifferent about David Lynch. For my part, I am currently watching the entire Twin Peaks collection (I was the only kid in my class, probably in the school even, who never watched the series... and I hated Laura Palmer for that), including the series, movies, documentaries and anything really that falls into my hands about it, and have a pile of David Lynch movies to watch and re-watch. I'll let you know when I get to the end.
Friday, 22 October 2010
Monday, 4 October 2010
Yuja Wang - Flight of the Bumble-Bee (Vol du Bourdon)
Yuja Wang plays Cziffra's arrangement for piano of the Flight of the Bumble-Bee (Vol du Bourdon) by Rimsky-Korskakov, at the 2008 Verbier Festival.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)