clockwork
So I finally read A Clockwork Orange, which was surprisingly not as disturbing as I had imagined. I had seen clips of the movie here and there and the rape scenes made me cringe deep inside - where your whole intestinal tract seems to shrivel and bunch up - and so I never really gave it much thought.
But rummaging the bookshelf for a new book to read, or re-read for the 10,000th time, I saw it there and for some reason I felt it was the time to confront Anthony Burgess head-on.
The book was actually very good, and I caught on to the slang relatively quickly, so I didn't have to flip to the glossary so damn much. The deeper story really caught me someplace... deep... and really skewed my perception for some reason... I have just felt very heavy and very dark all week. And yet, it's like I can't turn myself away from it. I suppose this is the part where the ghosts show themselves, isn't it?
Last night I sat and watched the movie with plenty of chocolate to counter the mal-effects, and all that I could think was that Kubrick really missed the point. Too much "fancy" and not enough substance. It was good, and true to the story, but still lacked so much. Or maybe I am just too dark and weighed down right now to see through it. It's truly a blue mood. So maybe this book wasn't the best choice -- I need the Garfield anthology or some crap -- or maybe the moon wobbles are bringing me down. But it's been a profound and heavy week and I am so glad to be able to turn the tables this weekend with some extra sleep, extra sweets, and plenty of good ol' fashioned fireworks. Who has ever been uncheered by a sparkler? No one.
