Saturday, July 24, 2010

in my life, I loved you more

What a day - heavy, dark, humidity 200% and then the rain, non-stop downpour in the gloom. Made me feel heavy and sad too. I have been enjoying a link my brother sent me to a site that has every song the Beatles ever made, with a commentary on who wrote it and how it was written. With headphones on, going through that catalogue has been bliss. The harmonies! The tunefulness and energy. Today I listened to "In my life," one of the loveliest songs ever written, and tears poured down, like the day.

Then to cheer up (ha), I watched "Capitalism: a love story," Michael Moore's latest. You know, it's easy to dismiss his lumbering style and some of his antics, but he's an amazing man whom I admire greatly, and this is a superb film making some vital points. How is it possible that the American Department of the Treasury is run by honchos from the big banks? He takes us back to the original villain, Reagan, whose policies in favour of the rich began the slide into the abyss.

By contrast, he shows Franklin D. Roosevelt's speech about a second bill of rights, guaranteeing every American a home, an education, a job at decent pay - but the man died before it could be passed. The film takes us through one incomprehensible injustice after another, particularly how the bank bail-out was masterminded and shoved through Congress with no demand for accountability from the banks, at the same time as millions of people were being driven from their homes. Several high-ranking members of the Catholic church support him on camera, saying that capitalism is directly opposed to the teachings of Christ; that capitalism is evil. His point is that it's the opposite of democracy. And then he show us how right he is.

Moore has always presented an unrealistically rosy picture of social justice in Canada. I hope he'll come and make a movie about how all that has changed under Stephen Harper.

And then my beloved W*yson came over with my latest essay. Let's just say, as usual ... back to the drawing board. I'm closer, yes. There's good stuff. But I'm still, he points out, writing an essay, not a story - summarizing, not recreating. "Did writing this make you flinch?" he asked. Well ... not exactly. Not good enough, he says.

"Is it truthful, challenging, disturbing, inspiring, unique, heart-shaking, intensely felt? If none of these, RETHINK, REWRITE, RECREATE," he wrote.

Got it. More flinching.

But first, I think I'll listen to "In my life" again, and cry.

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