I will persist, until I succeed,

and even after, even during, always, forever and even in the never.

A Quick and Dismissive Analysis of Fight Club (7/9/11)

Talking to a friend on fb chat, excerpts from discussion:


I think it's an angsty social commentary on the demasculisation of men in the modern world, delivered with a bit of a self-aware pseudo revolutionary jest.

Immature? Yes a little, but it's got some muthafuckin' merit.

The immaturity was just secondary to the them of demasculisation. That was just a form of backlash that these sissified men were imposing on this "sad bad mad world". And it was shown in the end NOT to be supporting these activities, and the whole movie in the end was about Jack's self realisation, which ironically, was him making peace with a woman. (who were wholly responsible for the whole cycle in the first place)
That being said, the "fuck you and your bullshit!" mentality was what originally grasped me.

As for the ending, that is where he finds his balance.
Where he conquers the immature and destructive reactionary impulse (Tyler) and comes to rest at an equilibrium, a self created "ground zero"
Where he can start anew, with his bitch.

Get Me On That Goddamn Road! (7/9/11)

I don't backspace when I type, and I don't do disclaimers when I hold my stuff out to the world.
Wait, whoops.

Here's to those iconoclast wracks!
America's moving scars that scuttled across its groaning back,
those lonely dresden poets with nothin' but a buck and a fuck not to give.
Those endless miles of sagged rubber,
Those restless nights of sweat and paradise,
those darker chapters of isolated fury,

the unholy beholdings of the holy lands-
Here's to them! here's to them...
Here's a  toast to the cats who didn't give a damn!
I raise my keyboard, I raise my tacking fingers out the windows,
I raise it out to the world,
out to a world that I am yet to know;
to one that begs me like a whimpering lover
begs me to join her in her
troubles
paradises
broken roads
and beat cities
whose glassy eyes and pouted lips beg up to me
      all because of your words.

Dean Moriarty, I think of you.
I think of Dean Moriarty,

Fleeting Spring (1/9/11)

she still takes my breath
from a thousand miles away
today-every day;