Crazy, Stupid, Love (2011.)

Two days ago I watched "Crazy, Stupid, Love" (2011.) and as I am still thinking about it I've decided to write a few words on the topic.

I did not like the movie.

I think this is well made, actually pretty good movie.

How can this be?

There is an lasting anecdote saying Alfred Hitchcock was once asked about nature of movies and that he replyed that "A lot of movies are about life, but mine are slices of cake" - and surely, so they were.

This movie definitely isn't slice of cake. It neither amuses us (being awkwardly paced) nor educates us (having nothing to say), it does not impress us (as we've already seen it all if we ever looked around us) nor it seduces us with beauty (we've all seen better) so this movie is a slice of life.

And in life - cast is brilliant!

Steve Carell, Julianne Moore, Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone, Marisa Tomei, Analeigh Tipton, Jonah Bobo, Kevin Bacon... it is a godawful mixture of unpairable puzzle pieces - which comes over weirder still as they have all been made parts of romantic relationships. But it is not weird. Life is not a Hollywood movie and in all sincerity this IS how living people pair up. Society IS a canopy of mediocrity not frequently interrupted with intelligence and/or beauty.

And then - there's a thing with the title "Crazy, Stupid, love" and the way it beautifully sums it up:

CRAZY - for which other adjective could you slap onto man's longterm best friend who leaves him in his hour of need with the words:"My wife said we have to choose between you and Emily and I cannot see you anymore." or the fact that same man still comes to prune "his" roses and groom "his" lawn after being divorcely evicted.

STUPID as there is nothing better to be said about a man who thinks he and his wife stopped being "us" after she slept with a coworker and not after a millenia of quiet despair in invisibility and routine.

LOVE as there is nothing to give our life meaning IF WE DON'T. Stories that steer our lives are not facts but interpretations - our thoughts and feelings that we use to explain, to predict, to understand. Soulmate? One and only? Destiny? Hell yeah! It surely sounds better than:" I squandered my life on mediocre twat because I lacked guts in the beginning and later I was to lazy to change anything." So there is love. There has to be love. Because interpretations are our facts. And if love is what motivates us - sky is the limit!

I especially liked the ironic addition of Jacob Palmer (Ryan Gosling) - obviously intelligent, beautiful, hardworking and accomplished character with seemingly moral significance. And if you watch carefully this pretty picture educates no moral whatsoever. There is no fallacy in his womanizing nor is he reprieved by discovery of love. He is the only intelligent, purposeful subject of this entire story even being only an object.

Merry Christmas!

Now that all gifts have been sent to their intended recipients I can bask a little bit more in the happiness of job well done. There were some non-glove gifts made - in case you were wondering - but they were not very photogenic un-modeled.

Through the sea of gloves to the shores of Truth Will Set You Free.

There's no time better than Christmas time to set the record straight; to show love to deserving ones and serve some clear-cut honesty carpaccio to ones that earned only disgust and mistrust. Things may not end well but everyone knows where they stand - and if any effort will be spent in bettering oneselves there will be no more days fucked up by selfish disregard of community by catering to own whimsical needs.

Addictions are not diseases - they are markers of character weakness!


Also, I got most wonderful Christmas gift from my friend.

It's good to have someone to love who actually deserves it.

Thank God, Winter Solstice Has Passed

As I work from 9 to 5 this regime before winter solstice leaves me no day whatsoever during working week, a fact that annoys me and tires me immensely. So I wait for winter solstice to bring an end to my suffering - being the longest night, shortest day of the year - it psychologically sets my mind from "shrinking daytime" into "expanding daytime" mindframe. And I love it.

I took this lousy photo of wonderful sunset over Šestine-Lukšić pass above Zagreb on 22.12.2011. and it already felt like life is returning to my daily routine.

Also I had more FO this week:

I made simple stripped sweater for my offspringess.

This is top-down raglan sweater, made on 3mm needles (bamboo 20'' circulars for body and dpns for sleeves - eBay I loooove you! :-)) using Jelka yarn leftovers. I wanted to use up some lost bits and skeins to make sweater for Tea to play in - but it turned out so lovely she insists of wearing it to school also. I am pretty pleased.

So I will proceed with some gift-wrapping and we're all set for Jesus's birthday anniversary.

Hospital Orange

I'm just coming to terms with handmade section of this year's Christmas gifts. Jewelry set for my mother done, two more small knits to go and I can continue with usual setup. I'm a bit impressed by myself this year - just one lingering WIP left! - I'm not sure if I was ever so well behaved.

I'll be driving my mother to hospital on Wednesday. Seems she has rheumatoid arthritis and she'll be hospitalized for ten days to confirm the diagnosis. I'm a bit worried but this will also be improvement on current situation of fear and lack of certainty.

More FO Gloves

As this is one serious case of glovemaking dissease I'm going to rant a bit more about wondefulness of Ringwood Gloves and their versatility.

On the picture above the gloves on the left are original ringwood gloves - just as Rebecca Blair envisioned them - with moss stitch cuff panel and buttons and made in smallest size described in the pattern, using 3mm dpns and wool for 4 mm needles. They are super warm and they fit my hands beautifully and very snugly.

In the middle there are slightly altered Ringwoods - starting with 2x2 rib cuff (as that fits more tightly than buttoned cuff) and with shortened fingers - made without additional alterations, also using smallest size pattern but on 4mm dpns and with yarn for 4mm needles. They are beaultifuly light and I use them the most as I cannot bring myself to wear full gloves when driving so shortened fingers allow me more feel.

Third pair, right one in the picture above, uses 2x2 rib cuff, also smallest original ringwood patern size, but it is made on 2mm dpns using yarn which recommends 2,5-3mm needles. They are perfectly fitted for my 7 year old daughter's hands. They have been made in two days as I found out that practice makes so perfect when you're knitting your fourth* pair in bit over a month that one glove can be made in a Mythbusters rerun watching evening.

*Fourth pair (actually second one made) went to someone who had Santa's visit somewhat early this year. They were original ringwoods with moss stitch cuff, on 3mm dpns in yarn for 3mm needles and, as they had to be narrow but longer, for very slender hands, I adapted addition repeats for thumb gusset to every 6th instead of 4th row. They were very beautiful and they went to kind and beautiful hands who will treasure them as it is only appropriate for such wonderful gloves.

Dreaming

Few days ago I dreamt of stroking a cock. Cock as in not the chicken kind but the human male copulation organ kind. It was beautifully pink and with purplish veins ringing with every heartbeat. It was warm and it shined and it sprang with life with every stroke I did and it smelled fresh and salty with a dark musk note.

It was an experience so overwhelmingly beautiful I woke up, aroused and heavily breathing, and I did not forget even the slightest bit of that experience picture. The smell, look, the touc... grasp of it.

I remember it being attached to a person but the person had no importance in that dream.

I paced the floor, drank some water, watched through the window and took above photo of beautiful winter sunrise.

The beauty of the experience stayed with me, just below the surface, for this entire week. Everything I did, everyone I talked to, everything I enjoyed in was tinted more pleasurable with this beautiful picture.

I almost wish there was a jeweler like this one to celebrate this experience.

Homemade Wreath

It is eerie sometimes to see how similar tastes my offspringess and I have; we endeavored to make a yarn wreath for our door (following this great tutorial) and without any negotiations we decided to make decorations more geometrical and less flowery. We have omitted only gluing decorations on and instead fastened them on with pins - so we can change them next year without destroying "clothed" polystyrene ring.

I love how it turned out.

Mistletoe

One of my friends is just going through nauseating breakup.


Dating while being over 30 is awkward business, having kid and dating is ordeal without real comparison - and that is only when things go well. If they're not going well...


She told me what is happening; not the whole deal - just bits and pieces, as us shy ones usually do - and my blood boiled from fury. I sat there, listening, just breathing, while sounds of blood gusts from my heart rang in my ears like traffic-jam noise, while she put out self-doubt after self-doubt, justification for him after justification for him.


And then I started replying - at first slowly and trying my best to use Socratic method and not to yell, but it did not really go well as I was ingulfed in desire to go out and break his knee-caps. She was startled but at the same time freed of constant societal pressure to act as a lowly female and it felt as my anger and my assuredness was healing some desperate wound in her, filling up a void of uncertainty and doubt. Later on we met some people, we laughed loud and were jovial and relaxed and I felt our hearts reach out and hug. Like they would if we were war veterans - roles that would be more easily socially accepted having post-traumatic stress syndrome then our current ones - being single parents dating. And I went home and kept quiet.


Later on, I started talking about this, verbalising stuff I've just let sit a day or two, and monstruos words came out. Words celebrating disconnectedness and fear. I was appalled by myself and just sat there with tears rolling down my cheeks.


So I went out yesterday morning, to walk and to socialize without speaking, went to Samobor and as we went by Vugrinščak pools there were those high trees from the photo above covered in mistletoe shrubs.


Mistletoe: "to be kissed under it" plant.


And it is holliday season.


Against better judgement we will all succumb to hope.