An Introspective Post

Well, yesterday I saw the movie "Changeling". A truly chilling tale of crime, corruption, loss and murder of innocent children. It may not be your cup of tea, but I suggest that you watch it anyway. It is a work of art, in terms of both its direction and Jolie's acting.

And hence, as most great works of art do, they cause me to start being introspective. They make me look at society and question it: its morals, its repercussions on the individual.

True, the movie is set in 1928: nowadays, if you kill a person in the US, if you sneeze within twenty-four hours the CSI will be on you with a hanky and a pair of handcuffs. But still, corruption in the police force is as ubiquitous as ever. Somebody, somewhere, is currently being wronged. He/She is a victim of the intense human desire for power.

The endeavours of one Christine Collins, a wronged citizen, made sure that the police's power on the citizens were limited; they can no longer lock people up in a mental ward, without a very, very valid reason. Her need to find her son was great and through it she cataclysmally affected and changed the American Law.

Here's the most ironic fact of it all: She never did find her son.
All that work, all those years of searching, all that good that came out of her actions, all of it was for her son.
In a fair world, Justice is precise, swift and exact. In a fair world, Walter Collins would have been found. In a fair world, the universe/fate/god/spaghetti noodle, would have taken pity on the poor woman.

But we do not live in a fair world.

Christine Collins got the, what I call, poetically tragic ending. The perfect ending. The most true, most raw, most terrifying ending of all: a realistic ending.

Chills me to the bone, this.
Long live Art!
Good Morrow.

This Is The Time

I just wanted to share with you all this beautiful song. I think it portrays a very relevant message about the times we live in. It's an unfinished video apparently, but the song itself is more than enough to portray what the band has to say:

So what's the world to be
Just a luxury?
A Temporary scene?

This is the Time to decide, to pick our side and to make things right.

Now.
This is the Time.

Peace out, Good Morrow.

The Virulence of Cute

This particular topic brings to memory a particular scene from the mind-meltingly, stupidly hilarious cartoon "Ed, Edd n Eddy": Where the Character named Johnny once said: (I am paraphrasing here since the exact quote escapes me) "I told you plank that bunnies will take over the world - and they HAVE!!"

What, you may ask, has this got to do with anything?

The answer, mine kinsmen, is simple: Cute is taking over the world. We are become enslaved to cuteness. Cute is evil in a cute exterior - it is as venal and as virulent as the worst kind of disease (I have a certain fondness for this metaphor/simile. Comparing things to disease generally is a very easy way of saying something is extremely annoying/dangerous and multiplies faster than Paris Hilton's crabs in the summertime): one which brings the greatest harm in the most unsuspecting manner.

For those of you who think I am saying that cute things hurt people, I will refer you to my previous blog post on the wonders of context. I'm not (exactly) saying that cute is out there being cute on Mondays and encouraging child labour and whistling happy show tunes while committing mass genocide in some obscure African county. What I'm actually saying is this: we are becoming overrun and desensitised by cuteness, in many ways.

We take for example, YouTube. It's the biggest thing since Jesus went to South Park, and the bulk of the most watched videos of all time are definitely something to do with a baby being bitten, a puppy with an existential crisis (to sleep or not to sleep, that is the question) and so on and so forth. I, for one, will be the first to admit that I may have spent hours watching and re-watching these videos completely oblivious of the fact that Charlie bit his brother, but rather oggle and aww the fact that Harry is stating the obvious in an undoubtedly appealing gurgling British Accent.

What is it with cuteness? Why does it appeal to people so much? If Bin Laden was a cutie pie would we all have been more sympathetic to the poor Muslim man who had a tiffle with the bad, bad American people? Had Hitler and Mussolini been like Charlie and Harry would we all be hanging Jew Heads on our front yard? Would we "sugar o'er the devil himself"? I have no idea, but I wouldn't say it's exactly TOO far fetch'd.

Now we come to the point were I reveal why I decided to take up this topic. Yesterday, I watched "How to Train Your Dragon". At first, I was much averse to the idea of fearsome, fire-breathing monstrosities such as dragons being cute-ified. It's 'Twilight' (I will not even deign that much-hyped cult/sect movie with actual double inverted commas (") (Disclaimer: I dislike 'Twilight' vehemently)) all over again. Vampires were blood sucking undead creatures who would scare the shit out of anyone. Now they're sexy/Adonis-like twinks who sparkle in the sunlight. With societies constant pathological need of replacing the old with the new, how long will it be before the images of Dracula are completely erased from our memories and the likes of Edward Cullen (I suggest spitting in disgust when you mention her name. Trust me, it helps.) will be all that's left?

Anyway, in "How to Train Your Dragon", Dragons have gone from being ferocious, merciless, sage and sacred creatures to cute, cuddly, 'Toothless', spunky softies. I swore that I would dislike it. I swore that I will forever be adamantly against it. And as often happens when you swear things (since swearing is a very, very bad thing to do): you tend to be proven wrong. I loved every single minute of "How to Train Your Dragon" and came close to actually feeling a shred of sympathy towards the end. Despite all my previous judgements, all my prejudice against this movie, I succumbed to its inherent and innocuous charm.

Here is my closing statement: I blame it all on the Cute.

Peace out, Good Morrow.

First things First: Art, Artists vs. Conventionality.

Oh, how I do despise convention! Thing is, its a cage and we're all trapped inside of it. Whenever we attempt to 'break' convention, we simply eviscerate all ties with the current cage and move to the snazzier one next door. One can never truly break convention - one can only be unconventional (ie, not in the cage of conventional convention (twisted, I know))

But here we are. Following convention. It dictates one should introduce himself. And here we are. Following convention.

My name is Luke, I'm from a tiny island called Malta (how unconventional is that) and I'm 18 years of age. My motives are purely personal, I shall use this blog as a personal outlet of all my pent up hormonal-teen-angst. With the occasional dollop of a hint of humour (should I succeed at it).

Clear of all charges of attempting unconventionality? Not yet.

Let me tell you a bit about myself: I'm a person in a semi-complete state of apathy, possibly clinically depressed, (Note the clinically: it is used ironically, I have hidden here a subtle "knee-meets-balls" to society; I am not actually clinically depressed, i am only deemed so by the standards which are "clinically" - to myself I am merely unconventional. Lost you? Blame it on your conventionality. Or on my stupidity: whichever helps you sleep at night - we are, after all, living in the age where everything is relative and all philosophy is reduced to mere opinions (imagine i said that with a tone of disgust that is distinctly...Scottish.)) and have nothing better to do one hour before my social (makeshift prom to all you (in all likelihood, non-existent) non-Maltese people.) than to sit down here on my bed in nothing but a pair of shorts and have a nice little chat with you (again, in all likelihood, non-existent. Perhaps I should have used a synonym. Ah fuck it.) my audience.

I enjoy writing and wish to take it up as my profession. Actually I'm lying, but conventionality wishes me to do so. I would rather say I enjoy art and wish to take it up as my profession (artist, for those illiterate). People tell me that wanting to be an artist (again with the Scottish-disgust tone) is not a healthy decision when you can't draw a straight line even with the aid of a ruler but again, their conventionality blinds them to the true meaning of the word "artist". Let us, as convention dictates, ask Wiktionary:

artist (plural artists)

1.A person who creates art.
2.A person who creates art as an occupation.
3.A person who is skilled at some activity

Source: http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/artist

Verily, one is correct in saying an artist is "[a] person who creates art". However, conventionality stipulates people to know that art=drawing/scribbling/messing around/sleeping with many women and/or men for 'inspiration'". Therefore, if one wants to be an artist one must either be a good draw-er, scribbler or womaniser/maneater.

But reality, as opposed to convention, deems it not so. The true sense of the word "art" in any context is the indulging in aesthetic and intellectual pleasures (as defined by myself). Not it is not an 'or' I have placed in that sentence, it is an 'and'. Intellectuality and Aesthetics are not mutually exclusive in Art. I wish to be an artist: I wish to indulge in Aesthetic and Intellectual pleasures.

I could go on to define 'pleasures' so as not to confuse it with the conventional meaning, but i'll give you the benefit of the doubt of thinking you able to think outside the box for yourself. That and I have to go take a shower so as not to stink at tonight's social event. Yay for convention.

Thank you all (Well, to all you naysayers, perhaps "all" also encompasses no one...a debate for another time however) for listening/reading.

Toodles.