THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR by Gogol

About seven years ago I found the novel DEAD SOULS by Nikolai Gogol at a garage sale. I paid one dollar for it. This is perhaps one of my favorite works of literature, even though I've had to read it in translation. Gogol is one of the funniest, wittiest, beautiful storytellers I've read.

San Francisco's A.C.T. was putting one of Gogol's plays on this week. I have read this play which is called THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR. The title sounds droll, I think. But the play is as political as it is funny. From the program notes, it is mentioned that Gogol consulted with Pushkin on the storyline. Nonetheless, the play is, Gogol.

There is a huge ray of light on the characters in the first scene of the play. They are being revealed as bumbly among this brightness, running into each other as they enter the rook that has skewed walls, windows and staircases. The huge grey table in the middle of the state is mocking stage or platform for the politicians of the town and the person they are told might be the Government Inspector who--they had been warned--would investigate their town.

How Gogol becomes a great writer, to me, is his way of drawing links between the players in the play and the play itself. The play would not exist without the players. Gogol draws attention to this connection between the power structure within the play and its concomitant, mundane, "civil" component.

THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY and THE MOTHER AND THE WHORE

Yesterday I saw THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY and was really moved by it. The initial scenes were hard for me to watch because they are so blurry even though it was clear that the camera was the "eye" of the man who had had a major stroke and was waking up out of a coma. The film was based on a book written by the person who had experienced all this challenge in becoming paralyzed and completely dependent.

The acting, like in all French films, was superb. I love the casting that is done in France. Good acting is much more important than great make-up jobs. Max von Sydow did look extremely handsome and overall, I would say I went to see this film primarily for the visuals. I knew there would have to be many dream sequences and some surreal staging and moments.

I never disliked Julian Schnabel's paintings. I suppose one reaches a limit with painting "greatly" like he had done in the past. Using a new medium and twisting many camera angles, Schnabel demonstrated that painting and drawing are the mothers of the arts.

Speaking of mothers, I saw THE MOTHER AND THE WHORE this past week, having rented it from the video store. (It was on VHS--I don't have a dvd player.) This is a French film as well. It doesn't hurt that I adore Jean-Pierre Leaud (I don't think I've commented on the film he did with Catherine Breillat). This film was 4 hours long. I watched it over three evenings. Actually, I watched Part 11 first and then Part !. So I already knew how the film was to "end." I couldn't say anything that would really convey how brilliant this film is.

Both the DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY and THE MOTHER AND THE WHORE beg the viewer for answers. The answers have to do with questions of love, superficiality, spirituality and the abstraction of the ego.

Trying to consider nested cycles and yoga.

My flash animation class requires alot more time than I had thought it would. There are some concepts I don't grasp yet, like the nested cycle. We are doing buttons right now, and I'm thinking that the button is like a nested cycle. This shows how much I know about Flash.

But, actually, I'm looking forward in this next interactivity project to do something that relates to my own work. I have some video shot over two years ago that I want to use with the character in my project. They are both black cats. I know it is "cute' to do cats, but actually, I think some cats are very funny.

Meanwhile, I should be doing some yoga.

Holland and St. Patrick's Day

St. Patrick's Day parade in Dublin, Ireland part of a five-day festival; over 500,000 people attended the 2006 parade. The largest St. Patrick's Day parade is held in New York City and it is watched by over 2 million spectators. The St. Patrick's Day parade was first held in Boston in 1761, organized by the Charitable Irish Society. New York's celebration began on 18 March 1762 when Irish soldiers in the British army marched through the city.[citation needed] The predominantly French-speaking Canadian city of Montréal, in the province of Québec has the longest continually running Saint Patrick's day parade in North America, since 1824.[4] The city's flag has the Irish emblem, the shamrock, in one of its corners. Ireland's cities all hold their own parades and festivals. These cities include Dublin, Cork, Belfast, Derry, Galway, Kilkenny, Limerick, and Waterford. Parades also take place in other Irish towns and villages.
--Wikipedia

I was eating at a restaurant in which one of my friends works, and a couple under 65 sat at the table next to me. The language they were speaking sounded familiar to me, but as I have noticed about many European visitors to San Francisco, in public, they speak very softly. About ten minutes past, and my friend came over just as I asked the couple, "Spreek je Nederlans (sp)? It turns out that they did, and we started talking about how much I love Holland and how I lived in Groningen for a while and etc.

Eventually I told them that I have an E.U. passport given to me by the country of Eire, or Ireland. So, they had just been to the St. Patrick's Day Parade in San Francisco today. Now, they asked me, since you're Irish, can you tell just who is Saint Patrick?

I am such a complete space. When I was at the university, I almost studied Gaelic. But today I couldn't remember who St. Patrick "was." I told them some b.s. and got St. Patrick mixed up with--I think it is--Saint George...and I've been studying Hinduism and Buddhism and have forgotten alot about Christianity.

There must be common knowledge to every culture, I suppose. I'll remember who Bobby Sands was before I'll be able to tell anyone about why San Francisco and other other cities have parades for Saint Patrick of Ireland.

I told them I thought the holiday was just another commercial one for the U.S. They agreed, and then they said that Irish dancing is commercial. I'm not sure I agree with that. Dance is a form of art that transcends commercialism. The Dutch are well-known for their incredible painters: Van Gogh, Rembrandt, de Kooning. The Irish are well-known for their contributions to music and performance. I just told them, " Ireland doesn't have much of an economy." and they said it was--to them--a place that was still backward. No wonder I couldn't remember who St. Patrick is supposed to be.

Planet Glee rocked again.

I have so much fun when there's a musical guest on the show. So far, the musicians who have been on are new and raw. Last night's guest was a total trip. He calls himself "The Father J. O'Brien." I asked him where the "father" came from. He said it had to do with a group of friends in San Diego, and then he blurted what he was called before and it had some usually-unheard-on-tv words in it. We were on Planet Glee again.

The Father J. O'Brien is in his mid-twenties sings with the wisdom of someone with more life experience. An old soul with an incredible voice (deep like Tom Waits but also with something else--something a J. Mascis voice of inner knowledge and common sense.

We had fun jamming, too. And, we got two callers!! The second caller invited Father J. O'Brien to play at her party on Page Street tonight. She also said that "Miss Planet Glee" could join him on tabla. I thought it was funny and really great.

I missed Shivaratri tonight.

Somehow I thought that 2008 might be a good year. What I mean by "good year" is that I'm not so depressed, work is not so depressing, I've found a new place to live, I have a new boyfriend, I possibly have a new job, I have new friends and I'm not so depressed all the time. So far, 2008 has marked a new low in my energy level. I require much more sleep than I did three months ago to function and to feel energetic somewhat.

I thought that 2007 was a decent year. Work was quite difficult (as usual) but this year work seems worse (if that is possible!!!). I have two new assistants and all the students run all over the place. They spill things, put their hands in their bowel-movement-filled diapers, come in the door at 8:30 a.m. screaming at the top of their lungs (I have had a student like this kind before), require that everything be done for them, run off from the group while walking to the breakfast, lunch or elevator areas... The other teachers at the school used to dislike me because I had a decent amount of assistance (at least three assistants or more) and predominantly children in wheelchairs who didn't run around constantly.

What remains unsaid is that I am exhausted. The job is draining beyond belief. Last night I had a psychedelic dream and woke up wondering if I had ACTUALLY had a happy dream. I couldn't sleep well after that. (Yes, the price of "happiness.")

So, tonight, a Wednesday night and my only night in which I don't have a commitment, a Shivaratri celebration and chanting fest is going on at Amma's ashram in San Ramon. My friends asked me to go. All I had to do was drive myself up to upper Haight and back at around midnight. The headlight on my car first went out 4 years ago. Somehow my landlord glued the part of the casing that kept the lamp dry. About 5 weeks ago, the bulb blew out for the first time in 4 years. Last weekend, the bulb blew out again.

I HATE being stopped by U.S. police or other government "enforcers." Actually, the last time I got stopped by a cop was in upper Haight in 2006 for having a brake light out. The cop held onto my driver's license and was talking on the phone for about 10 minutes. This really unnerved me. Somehow I know that Amma's grace would help through any situation, but I find it hard to break through my mundance experience and feelings surrounding freedom. Despite the fact that the route is pre-set, there is more freedom to be found in riding the bus than driving a car! I keep thinking I'm going to get stopped by a cop and really lose my patience or get into an accident due to exhaustion. So, here I am sitting at home. It's time to meditate and go to sleep. I wish everyone a blessed evening.

Listening to The Smiths and this week, among other things.

For the past week, I've felt weird, because I've had a sinus infection and a cold. There seem to be things that go wrong when one is not "well," I suppose. The littlest annoyance has univeral and cosmic significance.

Meanwhile, back in August I discovered a Morrissey cd at the thrift store. The cd is called "Bona Drag." In any case, I got into listening to his lyrics and melodies. When The Smiths were happening in the eighties, I wasn't into them AT ALL. I was a complete and total punk girl. No frilly Smiths for me, thank you. I suppose if I could have gotten past their style (not fast or hard enough for me then), I could have listened to lyrics that were, in fact, quite political and addressed alot of issues about love and death, among other things.

I bought "Meat is Murder" a month or so ago. It has a young British soldier on the cover replicated four times into a square. Respect for all life forms is more than evident in this cd. I could go on, but I'm not typing very well right now. M Ore later.