Explosive Postures in the Arc of Compassionate Praise

But it is precisely here that a disastrous limitation in his position shows itself. --Martin Heidegger on Hermeneutics and Facticity

Ian McEwan is very good at illustrating corrosive anxiety which eats away at British definition for lack of an answer. As a novelist illuminating Western liberalism which is overwhelmed, Ian keeps it right on the edge; neither Daniel Craig nor director Roger Mitchell can master this in Enduring Love. The opening sequence is spectacular, and for that reason contrived, and Mitchell might have done better to consider a montage, some other form of adaptation. Ifans does a good job at being sick, using Gnosticism to implode toward annihilation, but Craig simply grows vicious and angry to the point that Ifans' mania seems mewing against it.

If you're going to use a hot air balloon as an allegory for humanity's precarious suspension between heaven and hell, in other words, going psycho-thriller on the time tested motif lends itself to being a cheap plot twist. Language is interdependent with visual acuity, so the motion picture is necessarily linked to language, and its proto-scientific discipline, linguistics, but narrative and film are also two different beasts, and fidelity to the text can be an Achilles's heel.

What Jerry does really well on occasion is getting his morphemes in just the right combination of synecdoche. "the whizzer" is evocative of blood spurting up out of a slit vein. Me? I simply pummel my stanzas, hating the definite article with a vengeance. I do not pun. I compact, and close with a thud, taking on even speculative traumatic conversion with defiance. Without necessarily having cured myself, since I have to deal with the residue of a senile transsexual who cannot register that I hate s/him and want nothing to do with its living carcass, I've managed, nonetheless, to close the door.

What I cannot do is restore my sensual self-esteem. That would take money my vanity as a broiled prawn doesn't have, though I'm sexually attracted to two of the men from Libertarian meet-up. Would I dare to do anything about that? Ah.

Tim Kenneally has done some decent reporting for the Wrap on Bobbi's health care, and I wish I could take my piece of this as a disability journalist: none of us are immune from the fact that the costs of long term care will bankrupt the global economy, but what journalists on Bobbi's beat cannot answer is why Brown's physicians cannot counteract whatever it was she ingested. People as young as Bobbi can come out of persistent vegetative states, but it takes extraordinary commitment to capture that spark of spirit as opposed to mere brain stem activity. We need to start letting go. I still have my faculties and want to return to employment, but the death industry takes precedence, while I starve on my pride.