Hey folks, just a quick note here. I'm doing most of my self-expression/whining on Facebook these days, so anyone still looking here should probably watch my account at http://www.facebook.com/MBeatty87

 It's a lot easier and more familiar to do my musing there, plus I like the more fluid, back-and-forth sharing. One day I might do a blog again, but for now that's my preference. I'd love to FB Friend anyone who was interested enough in my scribblings to watch this blog, but most of my posts are marked "public" if you'd rather just subscribe or spot check. Just be sure to message me if you Friend me there, so I know where you came from. Been getting some odd requests lately ;-).

 Thanks for listening and be well :-)!

  I was just watching George Romero's "Knightriders", a vastly under-appreciated early 80s film. It has, beneath it's low-budget status and somewhat absurd trappings, hidden depths and truths. I doubt there is anyone out there not in some way connected to the film or it's makers who knows as much about it as I, since most people wouldn't be interested enough to look that deeply. If there is, I'd love to meet them, as we would likely make each other good friends.

 In it's story, it's setting and even the reality of the film's making, are so many parallels to my life and feelings: what I wanted to be and what I ultimately became. It also has many key-points in my own life. It was running on HBO right around the time I was going through puberty and Amy Ingersol was, if perhaps not the first nude woman I saw on screen, the first that impressed me enough to remember. Only a brief, teasing scene, but the image embedded itself into my memory. To this day, I credit it as the likely genesis of my subconscious fondness for redheads.

 The main story conflict, a struggle between the desire to create a magical bubble as isolation against the drudgeries of the "real" world and the sad requirements of compromise with that world to survive, resonates strongly with me. I've spent most of my life a dual citizen of the "real" world and an endless series of fantasy ones, spending more time in the latter than was ultimately good for me although that brought much happiness to myself and others.

 Brother Blue (Merlin, in the film) deserves special mention. A remarkable character in real life well beyond the already remarkable role he played here, he is one of the teachers I wish I'd paid more attention to. I find it interesting that this was his only film. I hope someday someone makes one about his life.

 I think most of all, it speaks to me because of it's underlying theme of a group of friends bound together in all aspects of thier life. I have had few groups and they were all task-specific (wrestling team, role-playing group, martial arts dojo, co-workers, etc). The cast of Knightriders have said that this was no illusion, but rather a reflection of the creation of such a tight group on the set. I have seen many such groups. In fact, some of the people I most love and respect seem to have been born to create them. I never really belonged to one though, even though I have made recurring guest appearances in some. 

 I always wanted to though. For some reason, it just never seemed to work. I didn't really begin to develop social skills until my mid-thirties and there never seemed to be people around within reach who shared enough interests with me. Also, I freely admit, I have been insular most of my life. A lonely child, paid off with praise and affection for pretending that didn't matter, I think I grew up sub-consciously afraid of friends, even as I consciously longed for them. It was always easier and safer to observe the groups, gather tales about them and then construct another fantasy (my long-held, likely never to be written "Adventurer's Guild" novel-dream). Only with those I had vetted for a long time did I feel safe enough to invest and ultimately, in one way or another, none of them really worked out the way I'd hoped. For some, it was through no fault of their own but with others I paid a terrible price for misjudging their nature, or that of our relationship.        

 More recent years have added another parallel between my life and that of King William, but to describe that here would entail throwing out an unacceptable spoiler. If you watch the film and know me well enough to be likely to care, you'll see it.

 In the final analysis, I feel we will share the same fate, this film and I: unknown to most, misunderstood by most who did know and truly appreciated only by the few people sufficiently touched by our charms to really pay attention. The difference of course is that as long as the technology exists to play it, Knightriders will be there for people to examine, re-examine and learn from whereas in a few short years I will be burned into ashes and exist only in the hazy, indistinct memories of those few who cared enough to really look while I was here. 

 If you're interested in trying out the film, the link below will take you to it via my dusty, cobweb draped Amazon Associates account, so please do and if you recommend it to anyone, please ask them to do so as well. It might put a few coppers in this beggar's bowl. 

 Thanks for listening :-)!

The Latest Attempt...

Author's Note: This is your Humble Correspondant's first attempt at blogging via smartphone. Please forgive any weirdness that may result from my unfamiliarity with this new terrain ;-).

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Greetings :-),

Sooo...Conan...

(*sigh*) It was a good enough film I suppose, taken alone, but it did absolutely nothing to scratch my "Conan itch". Change the title and the names and someone who had only read the books wouldn't have even recognized it as anything other than another big budget, "mighty thewed barbarian" flick, all of which pretty much rip off Howard to one degree or another anyway.

This one was better than many, not so good as some. Great atmosphere and effects, decent combat (despite a few moments of sheer idiocy) and decent writing (a few really good ideas, dragged down by some really bad ones that dropped the average). But it was only a "Conan film" because they told us so and, I'm sorry, but that's just not good enough for me. Not when I know we can do better.

Truly, this just reinforces my long held belief that theatrical film is too limited a media for true, sweeping epic storytelling. A film is a video version of the short story, not the novel. For the latter, we have HBO and I think all the serious Conan fans out there should unite, form a barbarian horde and launch a campaign to aquire the rights and hire that fine studio to finally, finally do it right: a four or five season show with each season covering one of the major phases of Conan's life (thief, roving mercenary, pirate/bandit leader, Aquilonion mercenary and rebel/usurper. End the last season with his coronation and, if there's enough interest, do another show about his reign. No need to slavishly follow the Howard stories either, there's plenty of room to slip in original work in the spirit of the stories but, by Crom, somebody give those of us who still care about Howard's hero a Conan we can recognize!

In summation, I liked it well enough to own it and watch it, but not as a Conan film. I simply refuse to see it that way. I will refer to it (and may even label it on my DVD shelf when the time comes) as "Nanoc the Barbarian", after a beloved D&D character of my callow youth who was a lot like Conan but wasn't...much like this film.

Both were fun though ;-).

Thanks for listening :-)!

Poem: "May I Look At You?"

(Presented on Facebook courtesy of Mark’s Mental Meanderings)

Greetings :-),

 Another relic unearthed from the archives. At least this one is mine and, unlike so many of mine, not borne of depression ;-)!

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May I Look At You?

19 May, ‘06

May I look at you, lovely lady?

An odd request, I know, from a stranger.
And they don’t come much stranger than me,
I must admit.

But please know that I mean you no harm.

I am not dangerous,
except to evildoers who cross my path,
stuffed shirts with neatly boxed philosophies,
and most of all to myself.

I just think you beautiful and seek license to look at you a bit.
To figure out what brought my attention snapping to you
at the merest passing glance

Committing it to memory before you pass on out of sight.

Perhaps even computer memory, if you will permit.
I could snap your picture with my phone,
which I’m just old enough to still be amazed by,
and email it to myself.

Would you like me to send you a copy?
Or would you rather not give your address to a bizarre fellow like me,
who would stop a women on the street and ask to look at her.

But really, what choice do I have?

Furtive glances as you pass would not be enough.
Staring without permission is rude,
even illegal in some places these days,
which I am also just old enough to be amazed by.

I could have just let you just go on by,
undisturbed and unchallenged.

But I couldn’t bear the thought of having you pass on
Into the vast and growing realm of might-have-beens
that litter my past amid the wreckage of unrealized plans
and unchased dreams.

So may I look at you, lovely lady?

Will you grant me the gift of your time and beauty?

Thank you!

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Thanks for listening :-)!

Poem: "Any Prince To Any Princess"

(Presented on Facebook courtesy of Mark’s Mental Meanderings)


Greetings :-),

 Just a piece I like, uncovered from my archives. Stylistically, it reminds me strongly of another poet of greater familiarity and longer association.

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“Any Prince to Any Princess”
  by Adrian Henri

August is coming
and the goose, I'm afraid,
is getting fat.

There have been
no golden eggs for some months now.

Straw has fallen well below market price
despite my frantic spinning
and the sedge is,
as you rightly point out,
withered.

I can't imagine how the pea
got under your mattress. I apologize humbly.
The chambermaid has, of course,
been sacked.
As has the frog footman.

I understand that
during my recent fact-finding tour of the Golden River,
despite your nightly unavailing efforts,
he remained obstinately
froggish.

I hope that the Three Wishes
granted by the General Assembly
will go some way towards redressing
this unfortunate recent sequence of events.

The fall in output from the shoe-factory, for example:
no one could have foreseen the work-to-rule
by the National Union of Elves. Not to mention the fact
that the court has been fast asleep
for the last six and a half years.

The matter of the poisoned apple has been taken up
by the Board of Trade: I think I can assure you
the incident will not be repeated.

I can quite understand, in the circumstances,
your reluctance to let down
your golden tresses.

However...

I feel I must point out
that the weather isn't getting any better
and I already have a nasty chill from waiting
at the base of the White Tower.

You must see the absurdity of the situation.
Some of the courtiers are beginning to talk,
not to mention the humble villagers.

It's been three weeks now,
and not even a word.

Princess,
a cold, black wind
howls through our empty palace.
Dead leaves litter the bedchamber;
the mirror on the wall hasn't said a thing
since you left.

I can only ask,
bearing all this in mind,
that you think again.

Let down your hair...

Reconsider...
 
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Thanks for listening :-)

Poem: The Little Black Box

(Presented on Facebook courtesy of Mark’s Mental Meanderings)

The Little Black Box
by Mark Beatty (January, 2011)

I have a Little Black Box
that accompanies me
on my daily journeys.

It is my friend
and my task-master.

My little, portable window on the world
preventing me from sinking,
once and for all,
into true hermitage.

It is my secretary
guarding my electronic gates.

It wards against those I do not wish to talk to,
at least not just now,
but takes their messages for later address.

It brings me the words and voices
that bring me joy.
And carries my own forth
to do their own work.

But it also taunts me
as I find myself staring at it
waiting for it to announce a visitor
with it's sweet tones or saucy red wink.

Is that truly fair though?
Should I blame it or...?

More recently, it has taken my dictation
since the last of the bigger boxes
finally succumbed
and passed from this world.

This very piece was written upon it,
in the strange thumb-dance of the 21st century.
I still cannot decide if that was progress
or regression.

But I can feel my carpels tunnelling already...

It was not the best or the latest
even when I first got it.
But then, what that I ever truly loved was?

I tend it's needs far more carefully than my own.
Though, in fairness, they are far simpler.
I have kept it alive far longer
than the many plants that I have failed.

I wonder though sometimes,
if it serves me
or I serve it?

My beloved Little Black Box...

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Thanks for Listening :-)

Life-Defining Literature

Presented on Facebook courtesy of Mark's Mental Meanderings

Greetings :-),

 If you, like me, have long loved books then you (also like me) likely have one or more that significantly influenced the course of your life and the development of your personal philosophy.

 My "biggies" are:

The "Prydain Chronicles" by Lloyd Alexander

The various & sundry works (published and unpublished) of my cousin, friend and childhood hero, Christopher A Lay 

"Dune" by Frank Herbert

"Way of the Peaceful Warrior" by Dan Millman and it's two sequels ("Sacred Journey of the Peaceful Warrior" & "The Journeys of Socrates")

"Emotional Alchemy: How The Mind Can Heal The Heart" by Tara Bennett-Goleman

"Aikido And The New Warrior" ed. by Richard Strozzi-Heckler

"In Search Of The Warrior Spirit" by Richard Strozzi-Heckler

"Starship Troopers" by Robert A. Heinlein

The "War Against The Chtorr" series by David Gerrold ("A Matter For Men", "A Day For Damnation", "A Season For Slaughter" and "A Rage For Revenge")

What are yours?

Thanks for listening :-)

Vincent

(Presented on Facebook courtesy of Mark’s Mental Meanderings)

Greetings :-),

 An unusual treat tonight. I spontaneously picked up what I thought was a film I’d never seen starring Leonard Nimoy (“Vincent”) and it turned out to be a play. Then, in another bit of serendipity, I went to bed early and awoke early enough to watch it tonight before work.

 It was really good…and this from me, hardly a massive fan of theater or Van Gogh ;-).

Nimoy is the only cast member, portraying Vincent’s brother who, after finding himself overcome with emotion at the funeral and unable to speak, subsequently rents a theater to present his eulogy. Nimoy also directed himself, apparently, which is kind’ve interesting. I learned a great deal I didn’t know and am now inspired to research both men a little more, which I suppose is one of the highest compliments I can give to a play or any other piece of writing or performance.

I didn’t know, for example, that he had been “born twice” (I’m not telling; watch the play ;-) ), nor did I know the various theories about how his medical conditions and/or the treatments thereof might have made a direct impact on his unique style of painting. I also didn’t know that he refused to sign his last name to his work. He apparently confided in his brother that he felt that those unfamiliar with Dutch pronunciation would butcher the name. We did anyway, of course; apparently, it is supposed to sound like “Van Hokk”. I find it suggestive in the extreme of the way the world viewed Vincent that this error has been so widely perpetuated. It also says a lot about the way the world views each of us, on it’s terms rather than our own. I’m inclined to agree with the theory forwarded by Nimoy however, that it was less this and more a statement that his father, from whom he got the name and little else apparently, had no influence on and could claim no credit for his work.

I shall have to procure this... and the fact that it will only be the third recorded play I ever sought to own should speak volumes about it's impression on me. The others, should you be interested, were "Camelot" done by Richard Harris and a relatively obscure (if I'm even qualified to label a play as such) British version of "The Elephant Man", brilliantly enacted by Philip Anglim. It most impressed me, even in the tender, years in which I first saw it (I couldn’t have been older than 12, based on where I remember living at the time) by it’s eschewing of prosthetic makeup in favor of Anglim portraying Merrick holding his body in contortion throughout the performance to simulate his subject’s tragic deformities. I always felt that this portrayed the humanity of the real man better than the artificial creation of the movie versions and, in the decades since, I have never forgotten looking into Anglim's deep, expressive eyes as they reached out through the TV screen and into my heart. I can close my own even today and see them. The prosthetics may have been more accurate, but in the medium of film it is too easy to lump Merrick in with the other “movie monsters” and miss the point. Much as I later discovered about corpses when I worked at the hospital, you really can’t capture the experience. It’s a cliché because it’s true: sometimes, you really have to be there.

 Both of those were recorded to VHS from HBO and both long since watched to death & discarded. Now that I think about it, I suppose I’ll have to go buy them again :-p!

 Returning to "Vincent", subject matter aside, it is one man on a stage portraying a man who rents a stage to speak his mind to whomever will listen. There's a purity to that which I find very appealing, like the ancient Greek orators. And, fittingly, the most profound words of the performance were the last, which were not even in the play itself but at the end of a post-performance epilogue by Nimoy:

"He didn't paint what he was forced to see. He painted what he chose to see. He was an artist."

Thanks for listening :-)!

GGP: Why Our Grandparents Were So Happy

Greetings :-),

 I tagged this as a GGP or "Ghost Guest Post" because I got it in an email forward and have no idea how to attribute it. It's definitely not my original work though, so if anyone out there knows where it originated, please drop me a line and I will edit the post accordingly to give credit where it is due.

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Why Our Grandparents Were So Happy

A bottle of Bayer's 'Heroin'.
 Between 1890 and 1910 heroin was sold as a non-addictive substitute for morphine. It was also used to treat children suffering with a strong cough.

Coca Wine
 Metcalf's Coca Wine was one of a huge variety of wines with cocaine on the market.Everybody used to say that it would make you happy and it would also work as a medicinal treatment.

Mariani Wine
 Mariani wine (1875) was the most famous Coca wine of it's time. Pope Leo XIII used to carry one bottle with him all the time.He awarded Angelo Mariani (the producer) with a Vatican gold medal.

Maltine
 Produced by the Maltine Manufacturing Company of New York .It was suggested that you should take a full glass with or after every meal. Children should only take half a glass.

A paperweight promoting C.F. Boehringer & Soehne ( Mannheim , Germany )

 They were proud of being the biggest producers in the world of products containing Quinine and Cocaine.

Opium for Asthma
 At 40% alcohol plus 3 grams of opium per tablet, it didn't cure you, but you didn't care ...

Cocaine Tablets (1900)
 All stage actors, singers, teachers and preachers had to have them for a maximum performance. Great to 'smooth' the voice.

Cocaine drops for toothache
 Very popular for children in 1885. Not only did they relieve the pain, they made the children very happy!

Opium for newborns

 I'm sure this would make them sleep well (not only the Opium, but also 46% alcohol)!

 It's no wonder they were called, 'The Good Old Days'!!

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Thanks for listening :-)

Poem: "The Muse"

Greetings :-),

 A partially finished piece of unknown vintage which I unearthed, polished and stamped with today's date. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...

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The Muse

15 JAN, 2011

She watches me always, but touches me rarely.

She comes when she likes,
doing as she pleases,
taking what she wants,
giving what she feels like.

She brooks no resistance,
tolerates no excuses,
accepts no comprimises.

Then, with a wink,
a crooked smile
and a saucy toss of her hair,
she is gone without a backward glance.

Until next time…


God...I love her!


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Thanks for listening :-)!