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"A Few Words About Not Being Okay With Okay (Award Special)"
By Schagle Barkdust


The Korean woman I've been after for two months now is actually Japanese. Her husband was Korean, and I'm a white guy who is far too entrenched in American culture to catch nuances like that. Maybe in my college days, or when I worked in Turkey on that deep sea fishing boat.

Sorry, everyone. Rambling is just my way.

Sumi is her name, pronounced just like the expression sue me. She must have thought I was cute or took pity on my cane or my hermit-like lifestyle. I was invited to her apartment with some of her neighbors for an Oscar night party. Luckily for me she's a movie buff, but on the down side, I'd never watched an Oscars show in my life. I knew they existed and they happened some time between the end of football and the beginning of baseball. But…a party? I guess they'll celebrate anything these days.

She game a printout of the nominees and a wink. I was turned off that I was having some kind of group date with her neighbors (some of which are old enough to remember the first Oscar night), but I was happy to get out nonetheless.

I had a week. The only movie I saw that was nominated was Michael Clayton, because it was still playing down the street at the theater with the girl with all the neck tattoos. She calls me "sweetie". Bless her.

Needless to saw I got 4 out of 25 picks correct on my sheet, the party was a dud, and Sumi spent the entire night gabbing with a 200 pound Croatian woman who was the only person in the world who didn't know that she, in fact, was a lesbian.

So, onto the movies and the Oscars. Michael Clayton was okay. Okay at best. Boring at worst. I am so very tired of okay. I guess I'm wondering why film seems so tentative these days. The comedies are weak and the light dramas that could have a chance to be funny are just dry and gutless. It's as is every one on the screen just watches as things happen around them. The directors just walked out of a French film festival and all they remember is how quiet and uneventful the scenes were. Some movies do deserve silence. Most need all the tools we've spent 100 years developing! Camera angling, sound and effects! Does anyone know how to edit anymore? Sorry, again. Maybe there wasn't much to edit in the first place.

Clooney played Michael Clayton and carried the calm, rippling waves of the almost-thriller to the beach of the almost-impressed. I think I sound snooty now. I did mention I'm having girl issues. At my age, I get cranky pretty damn quick.

My point with these films and all the others my nephew sends me (and James prattles on about) is that I want to love them! Wow me, please! As far as this film being nominated for an Oscar, I have to wonder what the hell doesn't get nominated. They should hand them out every other year or so; or only give out a Best Picture when something stands out so far that it can't be ignored. Because with so much caution and fearful filmmaking, how is anything worth noting?

Pain medication plus lack of sleep plus restlessness plus the absence of a good woman equals curmudgeon. The least I could get is a suitable escape provided by my DVD player.

S.B.
March 2008

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A disclaimer:

Truth be told, I hate critique. I understand the necessity for review and the search for the innovative; I just don't want to be the bastard who does it. So I found someone to do it for me.
I bought a Christmas tree at Lowe's in early December. I had trouble shoving it in my suburban white-bread minivan until a man came out of nowhere and offered me assistance. I said "Thanks, man". We positioned the base of the tree while I crawled inside to pull it in the van. The rain was horrible that morning, but as soon as we were finished it stopped. He struck up a conversation with me about holiday movies, and I, a person who normally avoids strange conversation, chatted with him for at least ten minutes about Jimmy Stewart, the Oregon State Beavers, snow chains and the impact of Chuck Palahniuk on the Northwest Writing community.
With the every thought of my disdain for critique at the tip of my brain I asked: "Ever been a movie reviewer?"
He said: "I've been a park ranger, a movie projectionist, a waiter on a luxury liner, a crab boat deckhand, a lumberjack and a manager of a Jamba Juice. Never written anything anyone has ever seen. Unless the stuff in the bathroom counts."
"I need a nom de plume," I continued. "Someone to look at movies and stuff and review them. It's what people want to read. I'm trying to make it as a writer."
"Isn't that dishonest?"
"Maybe, but I really hate critique." I waited a moment. "And there's no pay."
"There never is. Hell, I'll do it. I have time anyway. I 'm living off my third disability in fifteen years. Lost my thumb." He lifted his gloved hand and flopped the empty finger around like it was an annoyance that it was ever there.
"Crab boat?"
"Jamba Juice."
"Gross," I extended my left hand intentionally. "I'm James…in Oregon anyway."
"I used to be known by a few names. Call me Schlagle Barkdust."
"You got it."


 

 

 

  If you encapsulate all the crap that has bugged you and haunted
you over the years and chuck it into the woodchipper before
Frances McDormand gets there, you may have a chance for
sanity.  If you put it all together and throw it all on the curb for
trash day, you may be able to shake off the old demons for good.  
You can move on.  Package them up like they were bad fruitcakes
and stuff them in a dump somewhere forever.  
       You write everything down anyway, so put it all together in
print.  Make it a big project and grab all your old complaints and
stack them up high.  Put your grips, moans and bitches in one pile
and your whining, ranting and grievances in another.  Make it
humorous for others to read.  You’re a clown.  You know how to
do that.
       Organize and divide into chapters. Title them.  Kill the bad
guys and recognize the good guys for what they’ve done.   Take
the incessant questions and nuisances to your mental health and
dress them up for the world to see.  Then, take them behind the
shed and kick ‘em in the ass.
      Make a book out of it.
  ...I honestly believe this is what is
working in a typical person’s mind.  
We imagine the apocalypse not as the
fiery end of the earth, but as
everlasting retirement.  We, deep
down, hate our jobs so much that if
the end of civilization can keep us
from ever going in on Monday again,
so be it!  

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