No Country

Episode Ninety-Two: No Country.
In which Squid Man gets to the crux.

1 comment:

  1. One week bleaker than the last. I had originally intended this week to follow last week's "bad argument" argument with the Squid Man assertion that the Bad Argument was all I had left. But then I saw the Cohen Brothers' "No Country For Old Men" (2007), and felt that it was adequately bleak to stand on its own. Rehashing old bleak can be saved for another bleak week.

    Javier Bardem's amoral philosopher speaks the Squidman line right before finishing Woody Harrelson's fixer, and it's a key line for me. You need a direction to go in, but there's no guarantee that the direction is true.

    In a lesser Western, one might find a nod toward a community's church as providing that guarantee, and this film would outline the chaos that occurs when that community center is gone. But this story isn't that lazy. There's just chaos out there; eventually it will get around to you and yours.

    In the end, it's a coin toss as to whether the rule you choose will be of use. And the stakes are vital. That's a forlorn Peter Lorre from a shot in Fritz Lang's "M" (1931). He captured the general sense of the week.

    I vacillated for some time over whether this line was the voice of censure, or the voice of resolution, if that's any indication of where I am at this point. I can't tell my Squidman from my Eno. Something has to give.

    The Soap Strip frame from a dream my GF had of the two of us riding a bus, and struggling to get off via the wheelchair exit, while our younger generation hopped off via the front, and bounded on ahead.

    Pharm Life is back to medical diagrams, in this case a detail of the auditory canal - commemorating the return of my ear infection that started thirty years ago when I impacted Winooski River in my right ear while swimming daily. The right ear passage has since remained a bellwether of my overall health, and an indicator of stress.

    This last week was bad. I was frequently in pain, but was unable to take sick time because my colleagues were each taking sick time, and also because, in an attempt to deal with the anxiety around medical bills, I actually looked at my medical bills. It turns out that even as I cannot afford the health insurance I am perpetually, slowly losing, I also cannot afford to use said insurance. Going to the doctor is something I can no longer afford to do. This is a large reason that this week was bleak: tangible evidence that my life is going down the drain.

    The 'affirmation'? The best I could come up with was the film's Tommy Lee Jones (though, here, spoken by author Cormac McCarthy) lamenting the Romantic yesteryear, seeing the disaster around him (in the film, he is surveying the drug-deal-gone-bad carnage) and anticipating that this is only an indicator of the shitstorm to come.

    Guy holds a fate-dealing 'flipping coin'.



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