3. Ballad of Bloody Sam

G!

The first film by 'Bloody' Sam
Peckinpah I gained exposure
To was his most famous: The
Wild Bunch, a western so
Ahead of its time, even if you
Watch it today, you'll still
Think it's better than the
Action movies released just
Last week. In a way, Sam's
Tragically short career was
Defined by the way he helped
Revolutionize the depiction of
Violence on the movie screen,
And to go even further he might
As well take most of the credit
For it, because while Bonnie
And Clyde, Dirty Harry and
A Clockwork Orange were
Also watershed films in the
Portrayal of violence, only
Sam was bold enough to
Return to the subject again
And again. That is not to say
He glorified violence - which
Is an easy thing to do; he
Simply pointed out the
Necessity of violence,
Especially for the outcasts in
The cruel, deterministic place
He saw the world as, where
Survival is the greatest
Virtue. Outcasts are what
His characters are made of;
From his most pedestrian
Character study that is Junior
Bonner to his most sordid
Masterpiece that is Bring Me
The Head of Alfredo Garcia,
The movie's hero is always an
Individual who has been
Abandoned by society
Which has moved on without
Them; an individual who is
Fighting a losing battle and
Has no alternative but to
Continue swimming against
The strong current. Before
The maturation of his personal
Style which included freeze-
Frame titles, slow-motion
Action shots, and intense
Editing, Sam turned out two
Somewhat old-fashioned, and
Immensely enjoyable westerns:
Ride the High Country and
Major Dundee, where his
tendencies of on-location
authenticity and masculine-
Centered narratives already
Showed in surplus. Starting
With The Wild Bunch, every
Sam Peckinpah movie
Became a Sam Peckinpah
Movie, instantly recognizable
From the first titles frame, and
Endlessly controversial as
Some people made them out
To be, especially Straw Dogs,
Which I thought had a good
Point to prove about the
Nature of man, despite the
Pervasive sexual violence in
That picture, which made the
Point all the more valid. There's
Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, a
Mostly sedate revisionist western
Where plot takes a backseat to
Scenery, tone and atmosphere,
The Getaway, a purely commercial
Product crafted with Sam's
Artistry and still works, Cross of
Iron, the most madly devastating
War movie ever made, and
Three other late-career pictures
Not worth mentioning, as they
Were made after alcohol had
Drowned most of the artist
In the man. Perhaps Sam
had it coming; just the sound
Of his name: 'Peckinpah', evokes
In my imagination the image of
Some redneck Peckerwood,
Prone to violence and sadism
In a beer-stained jersey wielding
A short barrel shotgun and a
Cigar hanging off his mouth...
Or maybe that's just me. Ok, this
Monologue is getting weird, that's
It for the indelible, mad auteur
That is Bloody Sam Peckinpah.

1. The Directing Machine

G!

A 'directing machine', as
One critic once termed this
Filmmaker, Woody Allen is
A director you needn't look
Twice to recognize at half a
Glance. His trademark titles
Against black screen, use of
Jazz in soundtrack, and ever
Talkative characters are
Endlessly consistent in the
Almost annual stream of
Pictures he makes, made even
More marvelous considering
that he is nearly 80. Out of
Allen's 40 something films I've
Seen only 13; I suppose due
To his distinctiveness no Woody
Allen film is ever an awful
Film, but many are mediocre,
And those ones I have not
Seen. Some others I have
Not seen because despite
Their high reputations, they
Are not available from the
Library, and it sucks, because
I know that Zelig, Broadway
Danny Rose, and his early
Flicks are quite respected
Among the critics. Nonetheless
I have seen Annie Hall, Hannah
And Her Sisters, and Manhattan
All at a time when Woody's
Humor and satire sadly eluded
Me. I'd say Sleeper was the
First of his flicks I enjoyed
immensely, and hope someday
He'll make another sci-fi comedy
Because Sleeper was pure
Gold. Then there are the latest
ones: Match Point, Midnight in
Paris, Vicki Christina Barcelona
And Blue Jasmine, witty talkative
Flicks set in the present period
But owe their due to his earlier
Masterpieces, which include
Interiors, Husbands and Wives,
Crimes and Misdemeanors, and
Bullets Over Broadway, enjoyably
Pessimistic and deliciously dark
Fares showcasing the brutal
Failings of human beings in the
Most empathetic light. I had set
Out to write about things I
Enjoyed specifically in his
Flicks but that has come
To naught. Alas, if you the
Reader haven't seen much
Of Woody Allen, try these
Titles, and you may discover
How one neurotic wimp has
Made all the things that
Depress us into something
We can laugh and giggle
About, and that is where
The genius of Woody lies.

Profoundly

by G!

How else to see the
World, but profoundly?
On what can the mind
ponder, but deep thoughts?
Why live this life at
All, but to seek meaning?

What makes all you
People stay on the surface?
Like plastic bottles floating
In the sea, carried by waves?
When you think you are empty
Bottles, you are actually rocks?

Why don't you sink down
With me, and brave the depths?
Why are we expected to do
What is common and banal?
Why are mediocre minds more
Valued than the great masters?

Lastly, why am I thinking
Such elitist thoughts?

Tiredness

By G!

You often tell me you're
Tired, well aren't we all?
Perhaps you'd like to write
A poem about it. Why, you
Might ask, aren't you writing
One? Why this is not a poem
About tiredness, it is merely a
Monologue on the meaning of
The subject, which as I see you
Have little interest in. On the other
Hand aren't we all self-absorbed and
Stuck in our own bubble; fated to face
Our own shortcomings alone and alienate
Others while we flounder in the quicksand
Of disillusion and despair? Maybe such dark
Sayings are only applicable to me, after all, you
Are not stuck in the vortex of absolutes, you even
Said yourself, dignity is not one of your most valued
Virtues; alas the same cannot be said of me. Now onto
The subject: fatigue. I suppose I'm not talking about that
In the physical sense, as common sense will easily dictate
Its meaning, but the state of fatigue that works on the mind,
Breaking down hopes, dissolving motivation, clouding up any
And all sense of purpose. From unsuspecting locations this subtle
Agent rises to take over the mind's workings. Was it the absence of
Purpose that brought about its ascent? Was it an inherent weakness of
Man that caused it to seize control? Was it always there in the first place?
Ah fatal fatigue, it grows strong and wears you down, until the next moment
And it's gone.
Where has it gone?
What will keep it at bay?
Why and when does it strike?
I suspect I know the answer
As well as you do: I don't.
By the way, the shape of
This monologue is that
Of half a lamp, isn't
That cool?

If I Were a Dictator

by G!

If I were a dictator,
I'd force everyone to
Ride bicycles, and run
Subway tracks everywhere
For the lazy citizens.

If I were a dictator,
I'd let the pundits criticize
Me to their content; a
Great leader must always
Transcend dissent.

If I were a dictator,
I'd thumb my nose at
The world economy, my
Country should produce
Only for itself.

If I were a dictator,
I'd build orphanages
For unwanted children to
Go so that abortion wouldn't
Ever be necessary.

If I were a dictator,
I'd give money to the
Artists, until the culture
Of my country is
Revitalized.

If I were a dictator,
I'd castrate all the perverts,
Burn all the terrorists, and
Donate all sociopaths to
Scientific research.

If I were a dictator,
I'd dash the hopes of
All separatist minorities;
Alone, they'd lose the little
Independence they have.

If I were a dictator,
I'd have to seize my country
With tyrants, murder them all,
And be left to govern it with
Humble intellectuals.

If I were a dictator,
I'd eat at home what
I cook for myself; the lavish
Life of pathetic despots
Is not for me.

If I were a dictator,
I'd help my country become
A democracy before I
Retire, I'd hope it wouldn't
End like King Lear.

If I were a dictator,
I'd like to survive a few
Assassination attempts, learn
Martial arts, study music,
Learn another language...

If I were a dictator,
I'd come before God at
The end of my life to
Repent for my sins, and be
Forgiven before I die.

If I were a dictator,
Oh how wonderful
The world shall be.

Am I Ready For Love?

G!

Nowadays love is
Described as 'cute', yet
Is it not also supposed
To be profound and
Meaningful?
Cheers to you who
Thinks love is 'Cute', but
I am not looking for
Cuteness, and that is why
I am not ready for
Love.

A chaste life is no
Longer the pursuit of
Young men, yet that is
What I believe. Love is
More than cute, it is
Transcendental, true,
And final.

Am I ready for the
Final decision? Am I
Ready for commitment? Am
I ready for love? Alas I
Am not, if I swear by
These questions I ponder;
I still stand alone.

I am first and
Foremost enamored
By myself above all
Others. You think you're
Selfish; I am truly selfishness.
I belong to me, not
Us both.

If affection makes you
Happy, I will give you all
That I'm willing, but
Be aware of my limits to
Give, for I am yet a true
Gentleman, I am yet a true
Giver, and I am yet truly
Ready for love.

You have my affections
Only for the present,
Not for the future.

The Truth Above All

One of my favorite
Songs - that still retains
Lyrics - is Dan Hill's
Sometimes When We Touch.
From the first verse it goes:
'I'd rather hurt you
Honestly, than mislead you
With a lie.' How true.
Love songs are pleasant when
They do not apply to
You, and they're damn
Awkward when they do.
Let it be an awkward
Confession then, that
I am no one to judge your
Faults, if it matters to you.
I treat you by my truth,
I only hope you treat me by
Yours in return, and no
Trust is breached.
We are yet too young to
Overcome the pride and
Identity that defines us, and
We need not force change.
Either way, there is the best
To be found in each other
And the best is what my
Truth compels me to seek.
There is nothing to for-
Give, and no transgression
To answer for.
We all believe in a
Difference truth; for me
It's the truth above all.