Biopics, nuclear waste, via Swiss

Watched Walk the Line last night. And two things, a. I’m still waiting for a biopic about an artist that acknowledges the centrality of the creative process to his/her life. The most extraordinary individuals are rendered to formula like so much bacon drip: the innocence shattered by a devastating sibling incident that will haunt __ through adulthood, dream, marriage, stardom, drinking/drug habit, marriage on the skids, redemption. And b. actors never convinced me they were Johnny and June. Reminds me of something Maddin wrote about Tom Cruise, scrubbed so free of personhood, he’s an excellent surface for characters. Not a compliment. See also: flatness. Aw shit, now everyone googling Tom Cruise is going to end up here. Hello. Not a fan. J asked if this was a symptom of their iconic status, if that makes it impossible for a celebrity to really be absorbed by the viewer as a complete character within the world of the film. If I’m expecting too much from a Hollywood film or if I’m just expecting too much. I don’t think so. I do think that Keanu Reeves was meant to play an ecumenical orthodontist however.

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My wistfulness about Spiral Jetty yesterday was due in part to CLUI, a valuable resource in my recent moonings over environmental structures- natural and built- and poetry. I’m having a hard time thinking of writing under the aegis of Poetry, Prose or Prose Poetry, so I’ve decided to just scrap it all and call them walks. I hear an epigraph:
“When walking I lose authorship.” Thank you Lygia Clark. I knew that thread would someday resolve. 5,827 more to go. What I also found on the CLUI website is that the radioactive remains of the first sustained nuclear chain reaction are buried in the woods not far from where I grew up. That will trump my previous excuse- “I’m selfish and lazy”- for shirked duties.

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All this and a new dusie!