The importance of the sun is forgotten by many of us. We take it for granted and at times let our fears pull us away from the light. I don’t mean that metaphorically, I mean that literally. Some people are shut ins, they squirrel themselves away from the daylight hours inside their hovels and work on whatever it is that they deem necessary. They become starved of sunlight, vitamin D and whatever else the sun’s rays carry. All they need is a good 30 minutes in the sun to remember what they’re missing out on and to regain their health, like a superman. Sunlight is vital to each and everyone of us. Time in front of the computer or telly or game or phone is truly not. Those time wasters are a farce cooked up by the corporations to keep us docile. They have their purpose, they can be relaxing, but submitting to them is what makes skeletons of us all. Only there to obey and break. Whipped like weaklings. The sun breaks that spell. It obliterates the cold darkness that creeps over our lives when we don’t see enough of that glowing orb. Get yourself some sun. Now.
The battle they chose to focus on in the Netflix film “The King” was a perfect little introduction to Henry V, who most people wouldn’t know anything about other than the name. I was impressed by the visuals, the dialogue and the actors. All in all, a very good film that needed to be cut down by 20 minutes, but no matter. This is still one of the best films on Netflix and a very good weeknight movie.
In just under seven days, the family dynamic shifted in light of a grandparent’s sickness, a body riddled with dire ailments. What’s funny is that nothing was wrong before, but nothing was right either. Things were just separate and that seems to cause anxiety of sorts even among the best of us. But conversations were had and times were reminisced, along an afternoon of sunny weather and a backdrop of a lives that everyone knew had to be headed back to. It’s where I find myself now, back in the regular world, shifted toward the way things were but still heading forward to where things need to be.
The sting of winter continues to penetrate Melbourne from the arctic south, restlessly wailing through the night and hiding during the shine of the morning sun. Nothing can vanquish its terror, not even a mazinger, but the days are short and our homes are warm. Our bellies are full and our hearts are strong. Even the shakes can’t get us down. Outside this dream land is the ocean of desires. Over it, many of us will travel for better or worse; yet even the bad days of travel nurture the soul. The drum beat stops, and I am waking from an incessant hangover. Joker and the gang are calling. They are out on a ship in the wastelands of future Tokyo. A future we are trying to prevent by challenging the labyrinth, defeating the roxxonian minotaur, kissing the damsel, lighting the torch. Til all are one.
Castle Rock season two has me scouring the web for references to Stephen King books I’ve never read. Salem’s Lot seems to be the substrate to this season’s star’s journey through the eponymous town, taking misery with her as she fights to protect her daughter. Will anyone stand by her?
The stinging pain of monotony dries out the soul, removing the moisture of passion and clinging to the husk that’s left as it carries out it’s vile nature. There is no stopping it because it is hardwired into reality. You experience things this way and they turn out that way. The best thing to do is remove yourself from the area of infection, these are usually spaces filled with an atmosphere, people and processes. Like a factory, these spaces are mechanical but on a natural level. Once you remove yourself from the infected space, the soul begins to heal, quite quickly. The fresh air feels fresher, the birds sound chirpier, the sun seems brighter, even when the days are still overcast. And you no longer have to soldier on, now you get to mosey on along like a prancing race horse on show day.