Australia - a new film...

This last week, with my family, I saw “Australia.” I don’t quite know what to make of the movie. It was entertaining, and it had all of the romantic and epic elements of a 1950’s-era film, including the gallant rugged horseman, the aristocratic lady, and the spiritual native boy. Rather than those elements being injected for the sake of camp, I think the filmmaker, Baz Luhrmann, genuinely works within these conventions out of sincerity.

Provided we live in an age of taking previous conventions from the Modern-era, and we turn them on their head or turn them inside out, for me, it was hard to make whether or not “Australia” was a high-camp rendition on past conventions. Of course, then I thought of it, and there was no irony injected along with these ancient conventions. For example, looking at the film poster, there is no sense of irony to it.

Quite simply, “Australia,” a long narrative, could have been made in 1958 with James Dean and Elizabeth Taylor. Of course, they both would have had to acquire Aussie accents; nevertheless, that was the feeling I had leaving the film. It’s a palatable rendition, but for my money, it certainly was nothing new or thought-provoking. Moreover, I don’t like Luhrmann’s continuous injection of music—particularly Judy Garland sung songs from “The Wizard of Oz.” To me, it seemed as though this was projected towards three very specific audiences: women, children, and Judy Garland fans.

Musing on Nostalgia

There are those things for us that can linger in the back of one’s mind. For some reason, today, I have this ever-present wave of nostalgia washing over me. I can’t say that it’s exclusive to times in Chicago; rather the feeling is more predicated from a glimmering reminder. It’s just quite odd, this feeling of nostalgia.

Sometimes, when I am awash in it, it makes me wonder if it is not missing a time of one’s life, not a setting, or a period for which one loved a certain band—no. No, I think it is missing the innocence of one’s early twenties, or the simplicity of having one girlfriend for multiple months, sharing the same set of friends.

The recollection of the setting doesn’t involve the pain of the time, nor does it involve that time’s complexities. It’s almost as though, in nostalgia, we are able to take a setting in life out of its historical context. Methinks the same sort of thing applies to those feelings we have about past relationships, or things of the like.

While working today, my mind has meandered to years in Champaign-Urbana, Memphis, and Chicago. The thoughts or memories of Chicago have no substance to them; in fact, that could be said of all of aforementioned places—no substance, all fascia. It’s so fascinating how so much of the memory, if one ponders it can be utilizing the right-over-the-left hemisphere of the brain. I suspect that is the case, as it’s all been sensory recollection, not verbal specifics, more faces and scenery.

Aesthetics, Beauty, and Lingering Memories

Please note, in advance, it might be work reading the following: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qualia

I know this isn’t a shock to you, if you read this often. Of course, you could be a stranger, not know me, and be shockingly surprised at this simple fact: I live alone, and I have a lot of “alone-time”, as it were. With all of this time to myself, practicing solitary acts, e.g. grabbing dinner at the Albertson’s deli to eat at home, or running for 70 minutes alone, I have a lot of time to think. During the runs, the errant thoughts that migrate through my mind do so at an ever-faster pace.

I wonder how it goes, this biological basis for our thoughts, speeding them up in a state of physical excitement or agitation. Methinks during a run or some other sustained physical activity the body’s “fight or flight” mechanics are providing elevated levels or nor-epinephrine, serotonin, and dopamine. Those neurological chemicals that make us feel oh-so-good, and afterwards provide us with that illustrious “runner’s high.” Whatever the case, I would be interested in seeing an MRI at the neurological effects of heightened sustained physicality.

As of late, I have been thinking a lot on my runs about aesthetics, not so much from a design perspective, rather from a beauty perspective. Not of those popular dialogues about which stars are gracing US Weekly this week, but more in line with how we associate feelings and memories to those that come into our minds. I am writing about this because, during my runs for the past few weeks, a former loved one from more than two years ago has popped into my head from time-to-time.

Now for this former loved-one, I have no illusions of our getting back together, nor do I rationally think we should. We don’t speak. Nevertheless, I know that neither of us rationally thinks we should, and I am content with that. That being said, it continuously intrigues me over the course of a run how this girl will just pop into my head.

In some parts, the conception in my head during a run has certain qualia assigned to remembered aesthetics that are ever-present during the flashing vignettes about which come. I don’t know. Of course, I thought of her as a beautiful woman, before and after we were together. One of things I always found so beautiful about her were her softer cherubic features, fare skin and smile. The qualia assigned that rest in my mind’s eye are, for example, sweet and peaceful, but the challenge to these glimpses into the past are they are not far-reaching nor do they assign all of the substances or history that caused things to go awry. I guess that’s the challenge with aesthetic qualia, they don’t convey all of the substance subsisting with the features conveying in the mind the qualia.*

I guess that is the continuous challenge to life and decision making, we encapsulate our decisions with the influences of our perceptions and tastes. Certainly, on a base level, we can speak on things we find immediately attractive, e.g. Jessica Simpson, or something. Ultimately, however, for many of us, that personality is so atrocious; no amount of aesthetic can make up for one’s overpowering repellant personality, for me at least.**

These perceptions are as subjective as they come, which is why some love the H2, in spite of its horrible mileage. I guess my point is, with the cycle of relationships, there is the initial aesthetic attraction, found entirely prima-facie. Our subjectivity extracting qualia during this infatuation stage assigns substances to the qualia, e.g. beauty, sweetness, and innocence to a cherubic face and fare skin. Perhaps, it is through these assigned characteristics, bound to these aesthetic qualia, we continuously assign and project upon our lovers that which we want them to be or have? At the end of the day, we always impose on our partners the characteristics we want or expect them to have. When they betray these expectations we have constructed for them, we get upset. Herein lies the foundation for interminable arguments, I suppose.

If you are still reading this, and feeling the slightest bit sorry for me, don’t – please. I couldn’t be happier with my rather slow love-life at the moment. I love where I live and what I am doing. It is with this general self-satisfaction, I don’t find myself pining for anyone in particular, nor have I for a long time. I don’t know, I suppose at the moment I must just be too busy and happy to be self-consumed by anything outside of the upcoming trip to Nicaragua this week. Interesting, this condition of humanity, I suppose that’s why whilst typing, I am allowing my shuffle to play “Explosions in the Sky” repeatedly.

*Please allow me to rephrase. During my runs, I remember certain images of this girlfriend’s face, not any time in particular, but just the face – peacefully beautiful. These memories of her are predicated on thoughts and perceptions I had two-plus years ago. Here’s the problem: these pictures and memories of this beautiful woman, they don’t come with why our relationship ended, we just didn’t get along enough to keep it viable. Perhaps she got tired of asking me to translate bits of thought like the paragraph this footnote references.

**I have to admit, that is a rather hyperbolic example, as she runs contrary to what I like, but she appeals to the lowest common denominator, the same way people go out to buy albums by such artists as, Britney Spears, Nick Lachey, anything on VH1 or MTV.

The Visible White Undershirt – The Male Panty-line

Gentlemen,

This is an appeal, much in the same way women said something to their friends about the use of thongs underneath tighter pants twenty-some years ago. Quite simply, if you are not wearing a tie and buttoning the top button of your shirt, please don’t wear a crew neck t-shirt underneath your shirt. If you would like to wear an undershirt, please don’t hesitate to go with a tank-top, or you can come to the dark-side of the MattyJ-force, throwing on a v-neck-t.

By no means am I advocating one not wearing an under-shirt. If one happens to perspire, or they are too much man for the thin material of their shirt, please wear something. I am simply saying that the crew-neck bordering your neck, underneath your golf-shirt or oxford looks more unkempt; moreover, my guess is that those with hom you are trying to impress will be less so.

I am saying this as a friend. Sure, you may have busted my chops, or given me grief in the past, if you saw me walking around, let’s say Frat-days, in a crusty white v-neck. You were right to do so; however, don’t be scared to throw on that v-neck if you aren’t wearing a tie. Otherwise, you are throwing ground balls…


Ladies,

Please feel free to comment.

Trading Skyscrapers for Mountains - Aesthetics and Relativity

One month ago, I would stand up in my desk, and peer out over the Chicago River, seeing a mix of high rise buildings of downtown Chicago’s Loop. Right now, I stand up in my desk, peering North of Boise a bit, and I see the foothills North of Boise. There is something to be said for the aesthetic of the West and the “Golden Hours” here in the West. “Golden Hour,” as I understand the expression, is a phrase spawned from cinematography. I know Terrence Malik prefers only to film during “Golden Hour” as the light works best with the cameras. If one were to Wikipedia “Golden Hour” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_hour_%28photography%29), they would find that these hours are the first following dawn and the last prior to dusk.

With work, I have been getting here prior to sunrise, and leaving just following sunset. From my desk, when I stand, I see the “foothills,” I think in the Midwest we would call these “foothills” “small mountains,” diffused of light cascading and undulating around the rises and falls of the land. This is the scene I get from my office these days. I reckon that it has more to do with where one is at with their life. I say that, in that many think the idea of a massive city is about as beautiful as it gets. Chicago, like London, San Francisco, Singapore, Sydney or Dubai, is known for its skyline and its aesthetic predicated off of its landmarks. I am quite certain that there is a twenty-two-year-old recent graduate from a Big Ten University who awakens in the morning thinking the same thing about the Loop, and how they are so excited to be in the “big city” away from their small farm town in some Midwestern state.

I guess at the net of it, that is one thing we can say about ourselves, aesthetics and their appreciation is something entirely relative. This relativity is predicated from personal experience, education and desensitization. I don’t think I am espousing anything we have all thought before, but methinks it takes a phase of change and transformation to appreciate these things.