So my life has been consisting of...

...an ever increasing neurotic schedule of constant distraction. I'm 37, and some significant narratives (dating, family, career) have not been unfolding at all as I had hoped when I was younger. An hour of free time can feel oppressive; a free evening can feel terrifying. I don't just want to be alone with my thoughts.

So I've reached a point where I, who used to be content in traffic with no music on, now am annoyed (just a little, but still distinctly annoyed) when the 4 songs I listen to on the way home from work leave 2 minutes of silence. Delighted when I realize that after watching Knight of Cups I will have 43 minutes before I have to drive to work for my night shift, and that this will be exactly enough time to sit in Starbucks and watch ep 8 of American Crime Story (instead I'm writing this). I've even started playing video games again. If I don't spend time well, wasting time becomes a horrible chore. Thank God, I think to myself, for the Donald Trump election cycle. Politics is actually entertaining for once...

And then I see Knight of Cups. Borderlands 2, the child I don't get to see anymore, the memories of my ex fading away, the Donald's latest, more Borderlands 2, the 6 TV shows I see every week, my favorite coffee shops......the never ending slog of figuring out how to spend each weekend that doesn't involve other people (which is most)...this film shocked me out of that. All of it. It reminded me that I was once someone who read poetry for fun, even memorized it for fun, who once relished time alone. I've never forgotten these things intellectually, but I've forgotten them viscerally, if one could say as much. What happened to the guy who memorized Perhaps the film is pretentious and uneven, although I would assert that it is what Malick has been reaching for for awhile now. To the Wonder was already more more of an abstract existentialist expressionist dirge than a story (although it still had a story), and this film, even more so.

For me, watching this movie was like going for a long run, eating a rare steak, or having sex after a very long time without...good or bad, it has a certain quality that is endemic to what is good in life, for me. Writing this post was an end in itself. I'm not sure what type of conversation I'm trying to start. I agree with whatever critic said that this is an old man's movie. The end is near. It's lyricism, it's indefatigable strangeness and beauty, is it's only consolation (the same could be said for life).