The Rectal Visionary

The Rectal Visionary

The rectal visionary is the title of someone who voices unsubstantiated opinions based on a view from their own metaphorical ass. We know where this rhetorician’s head is located even though the speaker does not. Some listeners and/or readers may detect the odor of male bovine feces when exposed to these myopic and colon-like observations but this is psychosomatic. The brain is thinking, “This is bullshit,” causing olfactory memory cell activation. Images of standing ankle deep in bullshit is often associated with such recollections and depending on the strength of the speaker’s convictions, the listener may picture themselves eyebrow deep.

Rectal visionaries are often assholes.  In his book, Assholes, Aaron James theorizes the definition of an asshole as this:

A person counts as an asshole when, and only when, he systematically allows himself to enjoy special advantages in interpersonal relations out of an entrenched sense of entitlement that immunizes him against the complaints of other people. (Kindle Locations 80-82)

The sense of entitlement is the defining trait of an asshole but whether or not this person is a rectal visionary cannot be ascertained until the asshole opens his or her mouth.

It seems that analogous comparisons of human behavior to anatomical parts can branch out into a variety of classes and categories. A person can be an asshole, have their head up their own ass, and still see the world through the narrow view of their own ass. This is the epitome of a rectal visionary.

 

Memento the Movie

 

Memento

Memento is intense, entertaining, and confusing. The color scenes, run in reverse order, were longer than the B&W scenes run in chronological order. We know the ending because it is the beginning and we don’t know what really happened (I emphasize the past tense) until we get to the beginning which occurs at the end except for the B&W segments, which end in the middle.

I think one aspect that draws so many positive reviews to this film is that it is not structured in the orthodox manner of filmmaking. The viewer must deconstruct each scene from the following scene in the previous segment of time. The newness of this structure makes one think, perhaps even somewhat mathematically. It is revolutionary and worked as, I presume, a first time method but I think it would become tiresome if done again, at least, to anyone who has experienced it in Memento even if they liked it. I liked the film but I won’t be saving it to watch again because I think it will lose its magnetism the second time around.

I was reminded of putting all the scenes on the board and then mixing them up but with two plans of reverse order at the same time.

Brian

What Others Don’t Know About Distracting a Writer

void

You’re in your story, your mind is infused into your character, but you are guiding other characters as well. The images are there, the action, the colors, the smells, tastes, touch, feel. You are in the moment of your own words but running ahead creating only seconds in the future of that moment. The moment is tense; you are making it that way for a reason, for your readers.

Something rips you out of it. You try to hold on but the colors fade, the smells disappear, the action stops, emotions halt, the last fragments of the image are sucked away, lost. You wonder if it can ever be the same, exactly the same. You know it can’t.

It doesn’t matter what ‘something’ shattered your world, you will never have that moment back, never know if the next one you make will be as good. Maybe the next one will be better, but you’ll never know, it’s gone.

Have you ever watched an exceptionally good movie, an edge-of-your-seat movie that made you crunch the cushions and verbally urge your heroes on? Imagine watching this movie for the first time while recording it so you can share it with someone. You’re gripped in an intense scene and the power goes out. Wow, that would really suck. To be in the middle of creating when your own scene is ripped away is much more profound.

The phone ringing or a dog barking may make your world fade a moment, a mild annoyance, a distraction, but not one to do more than make the mind skip a step. When someone makes a comment, or worse, speaks directly to you, your mind leaps to the words and analyzes the message. It yanks your mind out of the world you were making.

I think only writers and poets and maybe composers of music know where I’m coming from, maybe not. The craft cannot be discarded any more than eating, breathing or taking a leak but denying it is every bit as detrimental to the psyche of an artist. To struggle with distractions is almost as bad as denying your craft.

The best solution is to have an office even if you must build a box or convert a closet into a private place for you and your word processor. This beats sitting in the same room with loved ones unless you don’t mind biting their head off. They will still knock on your door whenever a question that just can’t wait a few hours arises—it’s surprising how many times in a day that can occur—but the interruptions are considerably reduced.

Without a means of seclusion, the only other option is to write when others sleep. Changing a sleep cycle is far from easy and you should be prepared for complaints about snoozing when loved ones want your attention. Writing isn’t like a nine to five job, in many ways it’s far more demanding. You have to do it when you are able to do it and you must be able. Be sure to devote some time to the one(s) you love as well.

Is it Champagne or champagne?

 

To Capitalize or Not?

I recently wrote a passage containing a reference to champagne and my Word spellcheck marked it wrong with the little red underline. The processor’s correction changed it by capitalizing the word to Champagne. This didn’t quite ring true to me so I had to be sure. I found a well written if old New York Times Magazine article on the subject. NY Times: ON LANGUAGE; WINES WITHOUT CAPS By William Safire Published: August 25, 1985

champagne-1