RKNet Blog... Thing

Ok so admittedly it isn’t going to be quite that big, but it does give me an opportunity to use the first WTK vocabulary term: brobdingnagian.
This originates from the Jonathan Swift novel, Gulliver’s Travels. The term was coined as a reference to the city in which Gulliver visits where everything is just huge. This reference isn’t perhaps as deviously amusing as smirking and using air quotes when you call an idea “a modest proposal” but still good for earning brownie points with the literary set.

The next word is one that anyone can probably find an application for: quidnunc. Sure, it sounds obscure, almost technical, like it ought to be something you forgot when it came time for your biology exam on the parts of an insect. Trust me, this one will apply to you. The word comes from the latin for “what’s new?”, and is meant as a derogatory term for that slime who always asks how you’re doing because they are looking for something to spread around the office behind your back. I just did some poking around for this relatively obscure term, and there was a paperback poetry book released just this year with the title of Quidnunc. It doesn’t have any reviews yet, but then again, how many people deliberately collect new poetry? (No really, I’d love to meet someone who collects new poetry.)

Our third entry in this enlightening vocabulary cavalcade brings to mind the Theremin and its haunting warble: hemidemisemiquaver. Technically this is a 1/64th note. I discovered one tab for Led Zeppelin’s epic Immigrant Song that shows the use of the hemidemisemiquaver. I also saw some inconclusive references to Hendrix, King Crimson, and Dreamtheater. I’d expect that kind of lightning finger work from any of the guitarists in that roster. Do any of your favorite songs incorporate the whip-smart hot licks of the hemidemisemiquaver? Would you know if they did? Because ~I~ sure never learned to read music. Maybe I was just too truculent when the idea of joining band came up?

The last word for this edition of WTK sums up in one term why I generally don’t talk politics: mugwumpery. It sounds like a term out of a popular children’s set of novels which I won’t bother naming since you’ve likely already guessed which, but it’s roots are pure American politics. It was coined in the 1880s to describe people who bailed on the Republican party in response to the party’s nomination of James G. Blaine, who was apparently a totally corrupt nogoodnik. Harsh. Nowadays, however, the term mugwump is used to describe someone who either can’t make up their mind about an issue, or chooses to remain neutral on a controversial issue. Or a spineless, waffling ne’er-do-well, in other words. Just like me! :D

Stay tuned for more exciting trips to big word land. Until then, use your words, and keep they heads ringin’.

Let me start by saying that this grouping is little more than a list of some of my favorite books. It in no way purports to be comprehensive in any sense, nor are the books presented in any particular order.

Many are distinctly Modern (I’m looking at you, Dave Eggers, Nicole Krauss and Lauren Slater). Others employ a favorite story-telling technique, Magical Realism, that I personally, can’t get enough of (thanks Toni Morrison, Salman Rushdie and Gabriel Garcia Marquez). Still others are included because they’re beautifully told, utterly unique or just plain cool.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (Dave Eggers)
Eggers’ first novel is part memoir, part fiction and all modern. This book is bigger than itself. Eggers’ wildly experimental prose, self-conscious narrative and sheer humanity make this one of my all time favorites. The story details his family’s struggle to adjust to the death of both their father and mother in the span of just 32 days- yet much of the book is sheer fantasy and Eggers takes creative liberties in calling this story a “memoir.” (See “Lying: Lauren Slater, below) I would highly recommend this book to aspiring writers.

100 Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
A legend in and of itself, this book traces the lineage of a family in a small, supposedly South American town “on the edge of nowhere.” Employing some stunning examples of Magical Realism, a literary technique that has one character literally being drawn into the sky never to return, Marquez’ style is resonant of a fairy-tale so that the impossible is readily, even eagerly accepted. The opening line alone speaks volumes about the way this book hooks you: “Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.”

Song of Solomon (Toni Morrison)
Morrison needs little introduction on my part, and I had a difficult time choosing just one of her novels to highlight. However, Song of Solomon, to me, is perhaps her most experimental yet down-to-earth story to date. The story is a part coming-of-age, part alamentation of the lasting effects of slavery and part an examination of love, in all its strange and often distorted manifestations. Oh, and you’ll find some gorgeous instances of magical realism thrown in there for good measure as well.

Midnight’s Children (Salman Rushdie)
Hilarious, beautifully written, and impeccably structured, Rushdie constantly teases and tests his readers. The story, which traces a young man, Saleem, and his family as he grows up during India’s independence movement has been called a metaphor for the growth, and coming of age, of the country. Rushdie is truly a unique voice and Midnight’s Children is unabashedly accessible.

The History of Love (Nicole Krauss) 2005
A beautifully understated story with distinctly modernist leanings, The History of Love braids together the lives of three characters inextricably, yet distantly tied to each other: Leo, an old man who fears he is disappearing; Alma, a young girl on a quest to find happiness for her withdrawn mother; and Litvinoff, a mysterious and brooding Chilean man from another time. The History of Love truly stuns with some of it’s passages, one in particular stays with me:

“The first language humans had was gestures. There was nothing primitive about this language that flowed from people’s hands, nothing we say now that could not be said in the endless array of movements possible with the fine bones of the fingers and wrists. The gestures were complex and subtle, involving a delicacy of motion that has since been lost completely…”

The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Milan Kundera)
Perhaps a bit pretentious, this work of modern/post-modern fiction examines the insignificance of each and every one of us through a couple and their various infidelities. Uplifting, no? While it’s fair to say that not much actually *happens* in The Unbearable Lightness of Being, so much is said. Kundera believes this “lightness” (our insignificance) to be somewhat wrenching. I myself find it a bit liberating. Whether or not you enjoy the story, Kundera’s structure and prose make this piece worth reading, and the points it raises might send you on a philosophical quest of your own.

The Ear, the Eye and the Arm (Nancy Farmer)
I’m biased because this was a childhood favorite. Set in Zimbabwe in the year 2194, this story follows three royal youths through the various underbellies, subcultures and cults they encounter after they’ve been kidnapped. Three detectives with genetic deformities (super sensitive ears; excessively perceptive eyes and the third with a sense of empathy that often causes him to break down in tears) are assigned to find the children. Yes, it’s science fiction. Yes, it’s a children’s book. Yes, it’s worth reading. Take it to the beach!

The Darling (Russell Banks)
Russell Banks is a beautiful storyteller with the unique ability to put himself in the shoes, and heart, of almost anyone. The Darling is the story of Dawn/Hannah, a middle-aged woman whose rebellious past led her into the depths of Liberia where she experienced all manner of horror and beauty. A striking story told with the fresh rawness of a new wound, passages from the Darling will haunt you for years after you put it down.

Ulysses (James Joyce)
Read this book just to say you did it. Ulysses is an epic novel, yet spans just one day in the life of its protagonist, Leopold Bloom. Some say the book is pure genius. Others denigrate it as over-hyped fluff. Personally, I’d need to read it about five more times to make a fair assessment… But one thing is certain: Joyce went places with Ulysses (which was banned in the United States for obscenity in 1933) that few writers had gone before, and few have gone since. From his topical choices to his stylistic ones, Joyce has a voice and character all his own.

Lying: A Metaphorical Memoir (Lauren Slater)
This book will change the way you think of the term “memoir.” Slater challenges the concepts of truth, its contexts and even its very existence at the core of the human experience. Beautifully written and constructed with a modern twist, Lying has been called “metaphorical memoir,” (though she begs throughout to be understood as non-fiction.) This book continues to frustrate and enchant me, yet Slater’s beautiful prose and (here it is again) modernist tendencies keep me coming back for second, third and fourth readings.

Honorable Mention:
The Angel on the Roof (a collection of short stories by Russell Banks), How We are Hungry (a collection of short stories by Dave Eggers), What is the What (a creative non-fiction account of the life of one of Sudan’s Lost Boys, as told to and expanded upon by none other than Dave Eggers)

Note: If my liberal use of terms like “modernism” and “magical realism” annoyed or offended you, please see my upcoming post detailing these literary techniques and my interpretation of them. Until then, click the links, fool! Modernism - Magical Realism

I believe that long shots in action movies are one of the biggest “fuck you”s to Hollywood. I recently rented “Death Sentence” which stars Kevin Bacon and is directed by James Wan (of “Saw” fame, not the shitty sequels.) For those unexposed to the movie, the story takes place around a white-collar family man Nick Hume (Bacon) whose son is murdered during a gang initiation then after retaliation is targeted by the gang. In the middle of the film there’s a scene where Bacon is being chased by the gang through a parking garage and it is all in one continuous shot, and even better it’s one take (no cuts, no CG blending, nada.)

I consider “cinematographer” to be under my film repertoire and whenever I can see a shot like this I can’t help but tip my hat to the director and crew behind it since it shows they really busted their balls and want it to feel real. Side by side, the sequence at the end of “Children of Men” where Clive Owen is going after Chiwetel Ejiofor and the baby, and the sequence in “Bad Boys II” where Marcus and Mike are speeding down the highway going after Haitians, “Children of Men” wins hands down. Granted the two sequences are different beasts but I’ll explain why. It’s a lot simpler to put a camera on a tripod and film two seconds of an explosion then to have a handheld shot spanning over five hundred feet with squibs (artificial gunshots) and explosions and other things that goes for five minutes and covers every possible vantage point. Reason why I give more props to the long shots is because that takes a lot of timing, coordination, and collaboration in order to pull it off right so that the end result leaves the viewer believes he just saw a .50 caliber rip through six people.

But to get into the specifics of the “Death Sentence” shot I’ll explain the effort. It starts out with Bacon entering a parking garage and moving up floor by floor to the top where his car is while the gang targeting him is pursuing him. Now on paper you might think one camera operator follows around him but you’d be wrong. Instead of having one man rock a Steadicam and go only inside the garage it is passed around like an Olympic torch. It starts with one man in the hallway then he passes it on to a man on the next level near a gap between two levels (where Bacon is climbing through), to a man sitting on a crane/platform (so the view is now outside the parking garage by a good few feet) which lowers down to the first level where the gang is. The man then passes it off to another operator who goes in closer to the gang, backs onto another elevated platform to go up two floors to where Bacon is running and after that it’s all on that guy. My explanation sucks a bit, I’ll admit, but if you watch the clip you’ll get it.

TOP FIVE LONG TAKES

1. . “Children of Men” - Theo’s pursuit of Luke and the baby. (Clip)
2. “Panic Room” - Dubbed as “The Big Shot”, a floor by floor survey of the house’s three floors as its being broken into. (Clip)
3. “Touch of Evil” - The opening shot going from the rooftop looking down on a parking lot, to past the US/Mexican border several blocks away. This was in the late ’50s. (Clip)
4. “Children of Men” - Where Theo and everyone in the car is attacked.
5. “Rope” - A Hitchcock movie, the whole thing is one continuous shot. Done in the late ’40s (Buy the fucking thing)

The whole purpose of the long shots is to show the viewer that no matter where, what and when the setting is there is a reality that lies in the film. It is more cerebral than your typical quick cut from here to here to here to here and only a second has gone by. That’s my time for now. In an unrelated note I’ve enclosed a picture that can only be described as EPIC (a term heavily being overused now but fuck it.) Picture courtesy of my coworker Timmay.

Insert “Thaddeus D Mallardmarrow Meets the Mole Men of Mantle Sector 9″ story here.

Wound and Infection Treatment Stories #1

Tales written for discerning young ladies with a keen admiration of the manliness of the male half of the species, this volume deals with heart-pounding tales of men performing stunning feats of self-surgery and suffering such injuries as would surely destroy men of lesser manliness. Yet never fear! For these manly men always get the better of every trial and tribulation that comes their way! Read on for more exciting stories of the manliness of men!

Mark was a willowy, handsome young lad, with shoulder length flaxen hair which he brushed into his pale, rosy-cheeked face often to cover his sparkling, glassy blue eyes in impish defiance of social mores.

One fine summer’s day he sat on his back porch, clad in his favorite jean shorts. This in and of itself was nothing significant. Yet the story behind his reason for sitting thus when there was action, adventure and, yes, even danger to be had out in the wide world is indeed a stirring tale.

Being as clever and crafty as he was, Mark had made these shorts himself when his favorite pants finally ripped so significantly that his girlfriend at the time had insisted with the venom only a lifelong student of modern fashions could that he do away with them. Yet young Mark would not be denied pants so well-worn that they had become something akin to a companion. Indeed, many was the week which had passed without him parting with them long enough even to wash them. He simply couldn’t bear to part with these pants! No, this was a man of deep concerns in his life who simply would not give up the familiar comforts of the threadbare pockets, nor the subtle sophistication which came with the various inked designs which turned the faded denim into a black and blue patina which echoed his triumphant past’s loves, hopes, and outstanding feats of stunning bravery. It was as grave a sin as asking an honored crusader to part with the finely wrought chain mail which had saved him from savage and ignominious death through countless battles with fierce and pitiless Moors and Turks!

So passionate had our young Mark been when confronted with the possibility of losing this treasure, he had snatched up a sizable blade from the kitchen counter in heated desire for swift yet just resolution to this disgraceful feud between aesthetic schools of thought, and with such fervor did he hack away at the offending lower portion of his beloved jeans that it caused him several injuries. Indeed, he was not mindful of such lacerations! An impassioned and bold man such as this could have no room for outward manifestations of pain when there was a battle of wit and craft at hand.

So deep was his anguish at the mutilation of this jewel of his possessions that he hurled the remnants of the pants - along with the now crimson-stained blade - as far as his slim, tight-muscled arms could manage with a pained howl escaping his chest. Regrettably his then-girlfriend hadn’t the presence of mind to clear herself from the path of the flying objects, and suffered a nasty shock as sharpened metal pierced the drywall beside her head.

What woman can understand the true nature of such manly displays, when the depth of feeling must manifest itself in a true man’s course of action? Few can, and alas this was the last he ever saw of or heard from that young lady. Indeed, though he had won a victory over an intractable situation, she simply couldn’t understand the depth of his sincere heartbreak, nor his truer, sentimental nature. In his woeful mourning over losing both his love interest and a significant portion of his most treasured pants, he neglected to care for himself and the injuries he sustained during the confrontation.

As a result, he found himself sitting on the back porch of his home in a grim and pensive state. He had moments before prepared himself for the task which lay before him in that golden afternoon. The slanting sunlight pierced the smoky air around him and cast a beam better than a surgeon’s lamp on the site of his concern. One of the the wounds he had sustained during his heart wrenching episode of confrontational tailoring had taken a turn for the worse. Such a strong believer in independence was he that Mark was not employed and could not provide the sum necessary to visit a trained medical professional. Nor did he believe in such ridiculousness. As a true student of manliness he felt strongly that anything which could be accomplished by his own hand should be! Oft was he praised for such, and oft chided by those who did not understand. Nevertheless he was prepared for the task ahead of him. His anesthetic of choice was taking hold, calming him adequately for the work ahead.

The wound in question was a clean slice whose depth had allowed all manner of dirt in, and despite having been liberally (albeit indirectly and not deliberately) splashed with cleansing alcohol during the last two weeks it was now a very angry shade of red. The protective layer of dried blood was flecked with dirt and a clear fluid leaked from beneath it with only the slightest pressure. If it was painful to look at, it was surely more painful to actually have and feel, yet young Mark showed no pain or fear. With a trusty pocket knife in hand, he paused only once to take a deep breath and hold it in before exhaling in a great rush. A sagely expression came over him, making his heavy-lidded eyes seem cloudy and distant. With a dazzling quickness he sliced open the hardened surface of his grave injury and Oh! what happened then! A rush of milky fluid rushed forth, gleaming wetly under the light of the afternoon sun. Unfazed by such Mark quickly wiped it away and proceeded to squeeze with the all the somber detachment of a true warrior. Once the rupture in his smooth skin was running with the pure crimson of a clean cut, he wiped his hands off on the comforting cloth of his shortened jeans and simply sat. Clearly this quiet contemplation was his way of cleansing his spirit as well as the site of his bodily harm.

His phone rang and with all the unhurried grace of a seasoned general, Mark reached in his pocket, saw that the name on the phone simply said “Cunty Whore That Dumped Me” and thumbed the silencer with unperturbed ease.

This concludes our first installment of Heart-Pounding Tales of The Manliness of Men Vol. 1: Wound and Infection Treatment Stories! Won’t you join us next time for more thrilling, fascinating and stirring tales of manly men and their aplomb in the face of mortal wounding and dire infections?