Halima had a little booklet that had still shots of the film sandwiched in between little pages of quotes from fans. These quotes talked about how the film touched them on many levels, a lot of the quotes talked about people crying over the movie, showing how much of a strong effect it had on them.

On reading this booklet again, it made me think how much i loved this film myself. Honestly whether you're gay or straight, this film will touch you regardless. It's not just about two men together but it's about how that love affects everything around them. It's also about the love they have for their wives and their children. Anyone who calls this a "gay" movie is missing the point. The homosexual aspect of it is actually only a part of the movie which fits into the greater whole. In the big scheme of things, this is about how human beings cope in environments that will not tolerate their natural dispositions. It's also about how love just springs up out of nowhere, grows on its own, then is torn away without warning.

Brokeback Mountain is really a metaphor. It's a place of dreams and perfect love. Somewhere that we all visit at least once in our lives, but then spend the remainder of our lives trying to get back to, and yet we never really get there. Maybe it is the way that place eludes us which keeps its magic strong. After all, reaching it, it would cease to hold its mystery. And i think that the mountain is really the core of the story.

The core of the film however, would probably be the two main actors. A number of things shocked me. First off, these are two straight men playing gay parts - and yet they pull it off SO convincingly you find it hard to believe that they are actually truly straight. Secondly, they each play their roles really well. Heath Ledger's skill truly comes out in his clenched voice as Ennis Del Mar, and as he himself described it "It's almost as if he's forcing the words out because everything about his character is repressed" - but Ennis Del Mar evolves very significantly and Heath carries all the weight. Jake Gyllenhaal is powerful as Jack Twist, and there are at least two scenes in my mind where he completely dominates the screen. Those of you who have watched it will know what i'm talking about.

What else is shocking is that they adapted this thing into a 2 hour film from just ...what...30 pages of a short story? Simply amazing. This is probably one instance where the film would be better than its relative piece of literature but the short story has a charm of its own when you read it. And then there's the director. Ang Lee? Same guy who did Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and other chinese films? He shows such deftness over the american landscape and captures some truly amazing shots. It's almost as if he knows where all the good spots are.

On a sidenote - one of the reasons why i went absolutely wacko/bonkers/schizophrenic over Heath Ledger's portrayal of The Joker in The Dark Knight is because his first performance i saw in Brokeback Mountain was so impressive. Not only that, The Joker seemed so far removed from Ennis and yet he showed such mastery over both characters. The difference between the two is like night and day yet the quality remains consistent.

It dissappoints me that so many people would object to watching this film simply because of the gay aspect. A real shame, because its a true gem. One of my favourite films. I have to make a list of my favourite films (and why) ......that can be a blog post for another day perhaps :)

Today i was absolutely saturated with music. I spent around 4 hours with Ryan just trying to get the drum track recorded for my project. It was a great feeling because this was pretty much the first time i got Ryan all to myself so that he could teach me specifically on things that i needed help with, being the dumb one in the class with no solid foundation in music theory - yes of course that kind of help came in handy.

Also something peculiar happened. Because i was constantly sitting with Ryan, as in, next to him, i was facing the class and suddenly i started seeing things from his perspective. Every minute there'd be some person yelling "ryan ...ryan, look at this!" and constantly attention seeking. I had discussed this earlier with Tarik and it was really clear to both of us how most of their behaviour came across. Suddenly i felt sorry for him, but also respect as to how he handled these people so smoothly and patiently. Ryan also treats you with this kind of gentle-hearted sensitivity. If you've done something blatantly wrong or stupid, he wont laugh or poke fun, he'll just gently tell you how its done and reassure you that you're doing good work.

Also i had a little epiphany. When he left the studio for a bit, i was left to my own devices to mic up the drumkit and plug things in to get ready for the mix. I did what was told obeidiently, and then when i had finished everything, he didnt come back for quite some time. So i decided to jam around on the instruments. First i played with the drumset and admired its tone and how the pedals were set up. I got much more confident with my fills and experimented more. The pearl ride cymbal is absolutely divine. I could do all sorts of cool Danny Carey- esque things by using that as a metronome in a way.

And then i turned to the piano and tried things out then. And that was when the moment hit. I was all alone in that studio, the walls soundproofed- i could make whatever sounds i wanted and it was fine. I played on that piano for a good 20 mins straight. Improvisation and a few chords here and there. I realise what i might have been playing would sound like absolutely garbage to the trained pianist ear; but that is irrelevant. What is important is in that moment i truly felt like i was expressing my deepest feelings on this beautiful, resonant instrument. I wanted to stay there forever.

What really hit me today though was what my english teacher said. She said that we often stereotypically think that the opposite of love is hatred. But that actually isnt the case. The opposite of love is indifference. And i thought that was so true. Because its when you dont integrate with things. Its when people ignore you, put you down, shove you to the side. Because in those moments where we might feel unloved, the thoughts that come to us are bitter thoughts of feeling small, insignificant like a piece of furniture in the background. We never really remember disagreements or arguements as prominently as we like to remember feelings of indifference - and its that staying power and huge influence of that particular emotion which really earns its status as the antithesis to love. Why is this important though? It's important because we encounter indifference on a daily basis. To put it in a poetic way, the lack of love is there for everyone to experience. And whether we like it or not, that has an adverse effect on us.

You know what's really amazing though? It's when you get what you want that you start feeling indifferent to something else entirely. It's just human nature right. We will never ever be satisfied with what we have. And the reason is because we are infatuated with the idea of the quest. The idea of searching for something hidden and something that is hard to attain is really the true goal for us. It's that whole "the journey is more important than the destination" idea. And suddenly when you have it, it becomes meaningless. Just think about the family and the friends that you take for granted. I know i do it exceptionally well. I know that everyday, or no - even every week - no thoughts of gratitude will come to my head. I hardly ever feel thankful for what has been given to me because i like to believe it's always going to be there for me.

And that's dangerous.

It's dangerous because deep down inside, beneath this facade of words and blasé persona, i'm a person that survives on the scraps of love and attention that people give me. Sure i have belief's and paradigms that i made myself, but they will never work if i dont have people around me to react what i'm doing. I survive on those emails, those text messages, those days when we meet up and those days when people come to stay over. I survive on those meaningful hugs, those long talks. I will never make it out alive without these. The opposite of love is indifference. If people are indifferent to me, i will never find the motivation to carry out my dreams. Because if i am not loved, then i have no purpose.

So inside i'm quite a softie. I've known this all along, and i dont mind admitting it. I can look someone in the eye and tell them i love them and i need them because to me - that's not something i'm ashamed of. I take pride in it because i am terrified of what i will feel if i don't have that. I am terrified of indifference.

And there are those who
Hadn't found the speaking so wrong
Is it wrong
Of Pavlov lore
They ran rampant through the floors
Is this wrong?
Is this wrong?

There's a lot of madness in my memories. I like to think that these are the energies which fuel my dreams everynight. I've been having bad dreams and unnatural waking states for the past week. I have tried very hard to ignore these.

Infact i have tried very hard for the past few years to ignore these demons. Instead of dealing with these horrors and pains, i have pushed them to the back of my mind in an attempt to live a normal life, and i daresay, in the hope of being happy.

In the background i can hear Cedric whispering "is it wrong....is it gone...?" and for some odd reason this has just triggered a wave of emotion and thought over me.

I woke up in the morning in this bad, possessed, depressed state. I ended up staring at the wall for a few hours. Mum came in and asked me "what's wrong? please tell me what's wrong..." i just couldn't get it out. I didnt even know because there was so much confusion going on.

"If you ever knew the plans they had for us...."

So much is going right for me but so much is going wrong too. I have opted for blind optimism by powering my way through things and thinking positive and this has proven to be absolutely golden in my academic and social life. But internally it is making things worse. I am failing to recognise and deal with a lot of internal problems that i have, because i am too drunk from the euphoria i get from living my daily life in such a positive style.

All i know is that if i do not deal with this soon, the demons will come and get me. They are catching up, slowly but surely. I have ran for too long now, and i have to turn around and fight them or else be trampled over and eaten alive.

The end of the week. The momentary pause in which the repetitive cycle of strain seems to cease itself. I was really looking forward to the end of this week, because it just really feels like it took a lot of strain on me. On a good way though. You know the way a spring bounces back when you put pressure on it? It's that kind of strain. Sometimes some strain is beneficial.

So what did i do? Man, i completely wasted today entirely LOL. I was meant to go shopping with mum in the morning but woke up totally late. We went out and got some shopping near lunchtime though, and then i came back home and for an hour or two just fiddled around on the PC. Then i was feeling hungry, and i had to go downstairs to get some food. It turns out mum was watching the Pride and Prejudice DVD series that i had borrowed from the library, and so i sat down to watch a bit while i ate.

I ended up watching the entire series.

I had to! LOL, its so dumb now that i look back on it. I feel really really stupid :( And now i just feel lethargic because i've been lazing around on a sofa relaxing for 6 odd hours, and now i sort of lack the energy to do anything really. Not only that, i had to get back to shabazz and phil and there was another missed call on my mobile! Damn Jane Austen for being so good! xD I hate that feeling of laze more than anything. I've made myself a promise to do something productive tommorow though. Usually when i make a promise to myself nowadays, i trust myself enough to know that i will fulfill it.

Oh but i've *got* to talk about friday though. Friday was just fuckin amazing. Everything just happened like clockwork. The bus came straightaway. So did the train. I had amazing discussions with my teachers and got two A grades back to me. I had great conversations with Ismael, Phil and Tarik and generally i was feeling really good. On the way back home, the bus came straightaway too! I guess its natural the day after should be slightly disappointing in comparison.

But boy, this week coming up is gonna be hard. I say that because i'm going to push myself even further now. It's like when you're exercising and you're absolutely exhausted - you feel like your body is gonna shatter in a 1000 pieces but you do that *little* bit extra just to expand your total strength, and that last bit is the hardest, most painful bit, but also quite satisfying. Its this odd mix of pleasure and pain.

You know i've realised my blog doesn't really have that anecdotal feel. It's mostly turned all serious and analytical. I need to learn how to loosen up.

So today i was still recovering from my fever yesterday. Oh dear god dont even get me started on that- i'd probably need my own private hospital to make me feel any better. But today i was feeling a lot better, especially towards the 2nd half of the day. I turned the Wii on and thought i'd give brawl another chance.

The reason i say that is because yesterday, the fucking disc kept making disc errors every minute, and i gave up in a sulk. Thinking i'd have to buy a new disc. But i left it overnight, and tilted the Wii on its side horizontally, and now oddly it seems to be working now. Thank god for that though, now i can get better with fighting with my princess peach. One thing i need to start learning is spacing my floats so that i can move backwards and lure people towards me.

What else ...what else ...*searches frantically* oh YES. Drums! Yes yes, drumming was very productive today. At the end of it, i could feel sweat dripping down my chest and my entire t shirt was wet. I think i really rocked it out. It just got to a point where i didnt care about pissing the neighbours off. Firstly i practiced some basic foot independance stuff, and i'm getting better at sandwiching my bass notes between the hi hat notes. I can do 2 in a row sometimes ....but only sometimes. A lot of it comes down to the pedal that i have. I need a screwdriver so i can readjust it and make it more fluid. BUT on the positive side, i think i got the main groove of Viscera Eyes down. Its in 4/4 time, so it should be simple in theory. Which it is, but it'll take some more time to decode it.

Oh and i tried Tetragrammaton for the first time. It was fucking crazy. I think thats when the sweat broke out. The whole thing is just bloody drum fills! lol! But i think i've found a way to make it work. With all songs, the process of "decoding" it has begun, and will continue for many weeks until i nail the basics down.

I'm staying up really late today, but it's because i feel my day hasnt been productive. I've been ill for the past 2 days and i wanted to get some work done. This isnt going to go down well, and i'm going to have face my tutor tommorow *facepalm* but i have a late start. 10:40 it is. So if i leave at 9, i'll have plenty of time. I'll be going on just buses though, no trains :(, but somehow i think i can get away with it if i sleep late. Experience has proved that has never been the case....but i'm having such fun writing this blog entry, i feel like going .."fuck it!" xD

Apparently i got an A in my politics mock! According to nikki that is o_O she wouldnt tell a fib to me though, so i'm pretty confident that its true. I was SO sure that i got a C or something along those lines. But there you go .....i revised hardcore, but as you know that can never be enough. It can be satisfying to know that you still got it in you though. My other results have been incredibly medicore. I smell a C or a B coming my way for my latest history essay. OH and, friday will be english coursework feedback. I cant wait to see what wendy says on that particular piece of work ......i know i put some crazy shit in there xD

"I'm a great believer in playing those psychological games with exam markers to get yourself an extra mark or two" if she's a believer, i wonder if she'll fall for it too? After all i quoted Sartre, Orwell, and Byron when my essay actually has nothing to do with them. But i was adding a bit of eccentric literary flamboyance to it, to show how well read i am compared to the rest of the class. As The History Boys pointed out, an essay has a better chance when it stands out. It was tasteful quoting though i promise you. I didnt add it in there for the hell of it. I made sure it related back to the question in a vague, pretentious way.

Ismael's exams soon. God, i hope he does well. I know he's got it in him, i can only hope that things go as he plans them. You know there's that sense of camraderie that you share with people when you're all taking exams. You get those little anecdotes, those little glimpses of "oh i did really badly..." or "i'm not sure how i did ...on question b..." these little bits of disposable information. I really wish i could see how he's feeling after each exam, but maybe that would just be bothering him instead. So, i just decided to call him at the end of january and see how things went. I have faith in him.

So we're halfway through the years and things are turning over for the 2nd half. In the 80's, this would be similar to flipping over the tape to Side B to listen to the next part of the album. So thats where we are at. Side B. I shall accompany it with grilled cheese sandwiches and obsessive post-it notes.

Within the gilded twilight, my eyes shall rust over and dull its vision. My nerves clipped away by some phantom blade, barely allowing the spark of a synapse to occur. The watery blur descends and softens reality. The night continues until its dominance is interupted by a ghostly rapture.

I see that the morning presents itself in monochrome, its colour hindered by an inability to speak its heart, to share its sunshine. The birds and trees are dressed in black, singing funeral songs. The sun stands poised at the backstage of the horizon. "No, not yet" she whispers. "I would rather hide behind the clouds" she exclaims. The world is dizzy from all this spinning.

And so we take note of what our surroundings teach us. The true treasure of life, the glint of existence remains obscured by furry clouds. Small incandescent glances of hope dot opportunities like glittering stars. They shine on through the lonesome dark nights faithfully. Somewhere, there are spitting camels and spanish knights relying on this starry network to find their way.

I look around and see that the colour from the world has bled away. Even my blood is in black and white. But there remains hidden inside, something more furious. It is not made from indian ink and discarded fabric. The surface is steely and hard and generates gentle temperature as it has been burnt in the forge. It is the result from the world's hammering and soot. It is human resilience. Like a suit of armor, i prepare it before going into battle, each and everyday.

Holding my breath in an abyss infinitely deep.

Clawing upwards on the walls while the light paints shadows on my face.

My skin is a container for all sorts of ancient ghosts.

There is no friendly hand outstretched here. Only a weathered, twisted rope.

The pit echoes with the sounds of my escape.

When will the echoes reach you? Tell me when.

Tell me.

Distance is something that creates a need to travel across. To move to a destination, to a purpose. The more space we have, the more distressing it can become.

I have tried very hard to cover these distances. Spaces within myself, with other people, or actual void, lifeless space. Throughout my life i can see constant connections, and a relentless vigilance to interact beyond the surface matter of things.

But other times i find myself restricted by barriers. Time, gender, opinion, or even physical, geographical distance.

If only i could influence time, move things forwards or backwards so that we would live in the same era. That we wouldnt live historically.

What about gender? What about those seemingly pointless, yet necessary barriers that are erected between two different genders to protect them "Can you sleep over at mine" you must certainly cannot. And then the silence, always the silence. The things you dont say.

Opinions, differences, disagreements. One could say its the curse of individuality. But sometimes these differences run so deep they can distort any chance of interaction.

Physical distance. If i could hop on a plane now to see you i would. I feel cheated, to be situated miles away when everything else is so close. But the land, the sea, the endless stretch of things and distortion of timezone, all of it is so very frustrating.

These are all things in my idealistic self, that i wish i could tweak. So that i can feel close. So very close. Close enough that i'll never want to let go.

But sometimes you have to work with what you have.

Even if that isn't enough.

The film i had most recently seen at the cinema was "Waltz With Bashir". The review sites had been raving about this particular film, with an impressive 94% rating on rottentomatoes.com. I knew i was going for a treat.

The film's concept is fascinating. It is an "animated documentary" which arguably could be the first of its kind. The animation style is rotoscoping. I was well familiar with this technique, having watched "Waking Life" and "A Scanner Darkly". The way it works is by shooting the film's scenes in live action, then painting over every individual frame of the filmreel in stylized colours. And since there are 23 frames per second, there's an intense amount of frames to complete. But the effect is eyecatching, it feels like a living, moving painting. The effect is similar to Cel Shading in games.

The story is about an Israeli war veteran who upon talking to his old friend about a dream he has, realises that he has no memories of the Israeli-Lebanon war he fought in. The memory of the war, and of the massacres that followed seem to be blocked out, and yet every night he has the same dream - a dream of him and his comrades emerging naked from the sea, towards the wartorn city of lebanon, the night lit by golden flares. He has no idea why, but this keeps a stubborn significance.

Under the advice of his psychologist friend, he sets out to track down his former comrades to get their insights of the war and of the massacre in an attempt to jog his memory.

Given the premise and the subject matter of the film, it's easy to write this off as an anti-war film and leave it at that. While i take the film's anti-war sentiments on board, it was fascinating also to see that it was an exploration into ideas about memory, human interpretations and subjective opinion.

The interviews conducted with the film's characters are true to real life. There is no script. Hence the "documentary" aspect. You get an account of the war from the soldiers true perspective. The film jumps across these accounts in a very non-linear fashion. The accounts themselves have their own distinct flavour, their own stories to tell, though the events may actually be the same. The most striking thing however, was that each and every soldier's account of the war, downplayed or de-emphasised the massacre. Unknowingly, each soldier had repressed the trauma of what they had witnessed, and they did so collectively.

"How can you trust memory? We fill in the blanks with things our own material" claims the psychologist. It was at this point in the film where i had a grasp on what it was trying to say. It was about the nature of memory, and how we edit and interpret our own memories in order to fit our world view on things. It was impossible to remember the massacre, because all the soldiers were busy editing it our of their history. It was safer that way, because they could relatively peaceful lives.

In that sense, the film is strikingly postmodern. I got that impression the minute the film had these sudden switches. Postmodernist works always seem to be so involved in capturing the immediacy of the moment, through use of chaotic, non linear devices that try to give a more idealised account of what human identity, memory, and existence is truly like. Once i had grasped that, the film was much easier to sink my teeth into. I understood that it was making a statement about the way human memory works.

With these idealistic notions set in, the film moved onto more grittier details. The stylised, cartoon presentation of the film allowed for some really graphic violence. But this violence is never really uncalled for, it simply illustrates the brutality and pointlessness of war. The prices that are paid to sustain this. The presentations of blood, death, and decay are particularly striking, and you can feel it hit within you.

But of course, it's truly at the end of the film that makes all its praisings worthwhile. The main character delves deeper into his memory, and eventually he finds what he is looking for. Without spoiling the ending, the last few scenes can only really be discribed as a directorial masterstroke. You will never, ever see it coming. The director simply pulls the rug beneath your feet and hits you incredibly powerfully. The collective silence and shock which falls on the whole of the audience (that you can actually feel around you) when the credits are rolling is haunting, and profound.

For an unknown reason, my body drains itself of energy and passes out at about 9pm. I dream repeatedly, but they do not bother me with their issues much, and pass into that void of forgotten memory.

I wake up at 2 am, and shake the mental dust off my head. I'm grateful, because it is late night and my energy moves towards my writer spirits, and i feel energized to write.

I know straightaway what i want to hear : it's the solo to Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb.

There was this attraction i had to this solo the first time i heard it. It seemed to be born from blues scales, but it had that power and that drag and sustain to it. And to me that is the magic of guitar. And so i listen, with the pinch harmonics shrieking and sharpening the smooth tone of the bluesy playing. And the the bends, god the bends! You can almost feel yourself lifting upwards with the strings when gilmour bends with such emotion. And then there is that such careful attention to melody, it sounds powerful yet without sacrificing its melody and becoming mindless guitar shredding.

This solo takes me to places. I've always thought of Pink Floyd's music as something that is very richly dark, something almost classical gothic about the whole tone and deliverance of the music. This is the kind of soundtrack i need right now, the sounds of dark, ambient melody.

Keep playing, just never stop.