The More We Talk, the Less the Words Mean
This subject line comes from one of the best films I've seen in a long time, 1962's
My Life to Live, directed by Jean-Luc Godard, starring Anna Karina. The film, from beginning to end was beautifully shot and is somehow haunting and tragic while still leaving me with an uplifting feeling. That might be sort of macabre, due to some of the narrative turns of the film, but perhaps I was just so pleased with the experience of watching the film that is in no small way philosophical that despite some of the less than happy events that occur, I was happy after watching it. Godard is by far my favorite director, and his films have a way of making me want to watch them again and again to unravel the mysterious turns of his thought. After I'd seen
Pierrot Le Fou once, I said that it was my favorite film of all time, and I meant it, even though I'd only seen it once. I just knew. If you haven't seen this stuff, I highly recommend.
I'm back in school, and that's why there has been such silence for a little minute here. I've just been trying to get back into the swing of things and sort out my schedule, etc. It hasn't all been fun, but then, trying to get back to it isn't always that way. It's slowly coming together, at least I think. A course on Kant, an independent study on film theory, and a course on logic so as to fulfill my requirement. That plus two courses that I am grading for, and that rounds out my semester.
My radio show has moved to Thursdays (for those of you who have listened, it is still noon-2pm, and you can listen online if so inclined, but watch out for the craziness that is Central Time Zone that might shift your listening just a bit).
That's all for now.
Hope all is well with everyone. After much ado, Flynn returned my call, but I haven't gotten back to him as of yet...but he is out there, oh yes, he is out there.
