Returning from the park this morning, we crossed the street to the corner that is home to one of the three the halfway houses in the neighborhood. A middle aged man covered in baby blue denim and a trenchcoat white t-shirt sat on the fire hydrant, talking to Charlie.
—Hey big dog, you a friendly big dog?
And Charlie of course sought the attention.
—Oh you’re a nice guy. You know I’m a nice guy, too, don’t you now? Oh yes you do.
He started to scratch Charlie in Charlie’s favorite spot, the rump.
—Oh, now that’s where it’s at. I can tell that. Yeah… Hey, thanks man. Thanks for bringing him over here, letting me pet him.
I told the man, We’re neighbors, boss. And we bumped fists.
You don’t adapt novels but rather the enduring sensation that they leave you with. There’s one thing that people rarely talk about and yet is vital in our lives: dreaming. I don’t mean night dreams but daydreams. They are man’s best companion, wonders of existence. Thoughts often travel through them and then settle. Reading also does this: the eyes leave the page for a second and we’re off on a thousand journeys, a thousand projects. That said, a film isn’t a dream.
But at the origins of a film, there is this feeling, like ‘déjà-vu’, like ‘a memory of the present’.
Then, through the writing and shooting stages, you investigate this feeling of ‘déjà-vu’.
— Leos Carax
- Jacques Rivette, from “Texts and Interviews” (edited by Jonathan Rosenbaum)
What is nearness if it fails to come about despite the reduction of the longest distances to the shortest intervals? What is nearness if it is even repelled by the restless abolition of distances? What is nearness if, along with its failure to appear, remoteness also remains absent?
What is happening here when, as a result of the abolition of great distances, everything is equally far and equally near? What is this uniformity in which everything is neither far nor near-is, as it were, without distance?
Everything gets lumped together into uniform distancelessness. How? Is not this merging of everything into the distanceless more unearthly than everything bursting apart?
- Heidegger, 2001, 163-164p, Poetry, Language, Thought. Albert Hofstadter, trans.