Tragic Love

I love songs that tell a story, and voices that sound lived in…

Week 4 disappeared sowewhere

Life is busy, what with studies, work, social activities, homework, theatre companies, and the ever pressing need to expose oneself to new and interesting things. From time to time, however, you are reminded that all the little shite you’re dealing with really isn’t that important. It shapes us and occupies us, gives us something to talk about, but is not, after all, essential.

I had an experience recently when I was reading Isaac Asimov’s The Last Question on my lunchbreak at work. Blew my god damn mind. I went reluctantly back to work and a woman approached me asking (I worked in a pet shop) “You don’t have my dog’s food on the shelf in the size bag I normally get, you never have it in my size. Can you check out the back?”

I wanted to shout at her, shove the story in her hand and walk away. I didn’t, of course, because that would be eccentric verging on insane and likely see me to an early dismissal. The contrast just jarred me, like with the short film About A Girl we watched in class recently, but in reverse. Instead of being lulled into normality and then suddenly awoken to harsh reality, I had been lulled into far and distant thoughts, and then struck on the head with inanity.

Through film I’d like to be able to achieve even a fraction of what Asimov did to me, to be able to remove people from their lives and give them something to really think about would be incredible, and I think the ultimate aim of art – either make people think or make them feel.