Tag Archives: Wim Wenders Wings of Desire

Oh For Godssakes, Let’s Just Have a Pleasant Valley Sunday!

Not much news today, gang. So I’ve been having a really leisurely Sunday morning here.


I was out of bed at my usual 4am. Listened to more Sam Cooke (“Bring It On Home To Me”) during breakfast in my Merry Christmas-y kitchen. The cats got 9Lives Super Supper for breakfast, which is their most favorite thing on planet Earth now, so that was fun to watch.

Everything was really peaceful here. and so I went back to bed and stayed there for about 3 and half more hours… Listening to music. Posting to Instagram. And, yes, napping!! Because it’s exhausting to get up and eat breakfast!!

My pot of soup turned out really good yesterday (vegetarian green split-pea). So I was happy with that. And I did watch about half of Wings of Desire, and will probably watch the rest of it today. It is such a beautiful movie.It actually feels sacred. One of those rare films.

Several months ago, I re-watched it for the first time in about 25 years, and now I think about that movie all the time. (And not just because Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds are in it, in a band lineup that is no more but that I used to adore, and/or because Roland S. Howard and Crime & the City Solution are also in it.)

Everything about that era from when Wings of Desire came out, is really just gone, isn’t it?

Anyway. Thank goodness for film. (And I have it on VHS, which still has that non-HD film quality.) (Yes, I still own a VCR!!!)

I’m doing laundry as I type, and I’m planning on doing some non-political writing today. Just for myself. And my career, of course.

Assuming something horribly unexpected doesn’t break out in the world. (I was so sickened by that hanging/execution of Ruhollah Zam yesterday in Ir *n.)

(But heartened to see that there is still more peace in the Middle East: Bhutan and Israel now establish diplomatic relations, too.)

(But disgusted to see more blatant garbage going on in Airstrip One. People dying in the aisles from a p*n d* m*c at the SNL taping, anyone?? I don’t fucking think so.) (When are those poor demoralized people in Airstrip One going to rise up? There is no p*n d* m*c. There’s only a virus. THAT’S IT.) (And the NY dictator only wants to try to force the nationwide unemployment rates to go back up and get NY deeper in debt to ruin the economy. The nationwide numbers for unemployment were actually doing really good. Hundreds of thousands of people, nationwide, going back to work. )

(Crimes Against Humanity, gang. I hope they go after the dictators first.)

Violence of course broke out in DC last night, between Ant* f* and the tens of thousands of people prot* sting the r*gged el*ct*on. 3 people were stabbed by Ant. Ant was shot at by Patr* ots. 23 arrests were made, overall.

The courts nationwide still manage to show corruption beyond belief, making it look as if Civil War will be a foreseeable step, if the military doesn’t step in before that and finally halt the c*up.

Most people  do in fact see a military action of some kind coming. In combination with the deadline for September 12, 2018. (I believe the deadline was 45 days after the el* ct*on,  but I could be wrong about that.)

Anyway. So that’s that. I hope you are having a reasonably good Sunday, wherever you are in the world.  Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with my newest favorite Nick Cave photo from yesteryear. Along with one of my favorite songs off his new album with Nicholas Lens (Litanies) — the song is “Litany of the Sleeping Dream.” So effing beautiful… So hypnotic. The whole album is hypnotic. And then it is followed by my breakfast-listening music!! And then a few key videos for today.

I love you guys. See ya.

Rich Valdes’ great podcast. This time he interviewed Lou Dobbs about the many G*P cowards in Washington who will not take a stand against the massive v*t*r fr*ud. (But WHY are they cowards? Are they also in bed with F* ng F* ng? Or — more than likely — users of the truly widespread r*gged v*ting machines themselves??)

Likely legal events that will play out before Inauguration Day:

And in case you didn’t hear this yesterday. There is NO p*n d* m*c. There is v*t* r fr*ud running amuck in both Parties. Drain the sw*mp, anyone???

Sunny Saturday Soup Weather!!!

Yes, through a Christmas miracle of generosity, I was able to buy extra groceries in town yesterday, and I am planning to make a big pot of soup today!! Yay!!!

I’m pretty excited. I love to cook (and to bake) but haven’t done either in a really long time. So I’m looking forward to puttering in my kitchen today and  making that soup. All the ingredients are organic, non-GMO,  vegetarian. And all my Christmas lights and decorations are up in the kitchen.

And I also received another gift yesterday of farm-fresh organic eggnog!! Wow. I love that stuff, even though it is so amazingly fattening. The bottle it came in is so beautiful! The bottle alone made me excited.

Anyway. I’m thinking that I might actually hangout in my family room later, eat actual food (a thing I haven’t been able to really afford for a couple of months now), and watch Wings of Desire again. I just love that movie. Not a Christmas movie, but such a lovely escape.

Okay, well. We all know what the Supreme Court decided last night re: T X. It is very disheartening but not the end of the story.

And since Nick Cave is on Christmas break and taking a hiatus from the Red Hand Files until 2021, I was forced to aim my letter-writing frenzy elsewhere today. Around 4am, I texted to the Pr* s* d*nt of the United States, voicing my deep concerns about 2 specific things.

I have written/texted Tr**p about 4 times in the last few months and, oddly enough, within 24 hours, he usually sends out some sort of public response. It is indeed uncanny. I’m guessing this is because a lot of people all over the country share my specific concerns, so his replies probably are actually aimed at a lot of people at once, but it still feels indescribably personal.

So we’ll see. Because, gang —

Make no mistake. It has begun. Y* u T * b* BLOCKS the Pr* s* d*nt of the United States.

tw* tt *r will go after him and block him next. I’m not sure when F B will block him because the F*d is going after Z * ck *r b* rg  right now due to his suspicious $350 million donation to help fuck up the el *c t* on. It’s keeping him kinda busy… Listen here.

But do not kid yourselves, gang.  A c* up d’ et* t is in progress.

It would be prudent to read the link below. From two years ago. Methinks they’re ready and they’ve always known. hash t* g we are the st* rm

Winona museum gets 'Washington Crossing Delaware' painting – Twin Cities
Fingers crossed, gang!!

Also, in the longer version of last night’s X *2 R* p*rt, he has a new video from that insane MI State representative, who threatened all the Tr**p supporter’s the other day and was clearly showing her Ch* n* s* affiliation.

She seems to have been removed from all her legislative duties now, but her newest video could be our Saving Grace. She publicly tells B* d*n and K*m * l* to reward her for giving them Detroit on a fucking platter. (my charming words.) (She almost makes it sound as if the e*l *ct *n was rigged!!!! Who knew??!!)

I can’t stand looking at her face so I refuse to post her video on my blog, but you can listen to it in the X* 2 R* p*rt below, if you haven’t already seen it online.

Okay, gang. Not my breakfast-listening music from this morning — I am still on Sam Cooke’s Greatest Hits. However, this is the song that’s needed today. Play it loud. Enjoy. I love you guys. See ya.

Goodbye, New York City.  A p*n d* m*c usually means tons of people are dying. Well, where are the bodies??? The stats don’t add up. These people need fucking HELP!

Yes, again! Listen to the interview below. It takes 10 minutes.  Because I’m not letting up on this stuff, gang.  Crimes Against Humanity. Starting with NYC…

ST*P THE STE *L rallies going on in all 50 States today. Watch video interview with Ali here.

Around the 15 minute mark, this gets exceedingly interesting. I recommend holding onto your hat…

Some hard, unpleasant facts from B*n g* n*, gang. But listen to it, even if it pisses you off. (Or especially if it does.)

Poetry, Sex, and Death

I did re-watch Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire last night. It had been, literally, decades since I’d seen that movie. The only thing I really remembered about it is that I had really loved it when I saw it. (Enough to have bought the video of it and kept it all these years.) I knew it had something to do with an angel and a girl in a circus, and that’s kind of all I remembered about it.  (Well, the only other thing I  remembered was that Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds were in it, sort of toward the end.)

Which is another way of saying I had forgotten practically all of it.

Wow, what a great movie. All that constant murmuring.  The sound in that movie is just incredible. And the beauty of the whole concept. Of course, then I instantly remembered why I had loved that movie so much. Just a poetic work of art, on all levels. Every nuance; every murmur.

After I was done watching it, though, I was wondering why, all of the sudden, I was sort of steeped in old foreign things about death and poetry and sexuality and love between the dead and the living, and Nazis in Germany and the war…

Cocteau’s Orpheus came out in 1950 so there were still remnants of the war visible in its scenery and in the behavior of certain characters. (And I loved how Cocteau’s version of the bacchantes was to make them a women’s poetry society– nasty female critics who turned on Orpheus, who is a celebrated poet in Paris in Cocteau’s version. Too funny. Anyway.)

And I’m still re-reading Jean Genet’s Funeral Rites. It is nothing but poetry sex death Nazis… And in a wholly different way it deals with all the same stuff.

And then I realized, sort of with a shock, that Tell My Bones is all about poetry, sex and death — and love between the spirits of the dead and the living. And even Thug Luckless is about that. And certainly Blessed By Light is all about poetry sex and death.

I wonder what is going on with me? Seems like something profound is trying to get my attention.

And all this Nazi Germany stuff. Early this morning, I was lying in bed, thinking about just how saturated my childhood was with Nazi Germany. To be honest, even though I never talk about it because I just love that freight train that barrels past my door, but every time it does, I always think of the train that’s going to Auschwitz. I can’t help it. I have to remind myself that it’s just a freight train. These are not cattle cars, herding people to death camps.

But my childhood was filled with those images. Cleveland was full of immigrant Jews and so a lot of concentration camp survivors came to live in Cleveland. I was surrounded by them in my childhood. My Hebrew school teacher was a survivor of Auschwitz — her number was tattooed in blue on her forearm.  It was always there, always visible to us, because she wore dresses with short sleeves. She was from Hungary. Her twin sister had died at Auschwitz and she told me that her sister’s name would have roughly translated to “Marilyn” in English. Because of that, she seemed to be very attached to me. I mean, in a nice way. I was only about 8 years old.

I hated Hebrew school. I had to go 3 times a week for several years. That particular teacher thought I was really gifted in languages and she got me a scholarship to attend an accelerated Hebrew school sleep-away camp sort of thing for the summer and I was secretly just horrified by this. I did not want to spend my summer in Hebrew school! Even though I was supposed to be really appreciative of all of it because usually girls didn’t get that kind of education — only boys did.

Well, I really wanted dancing lessons. I really wanted to study ballet and tap because I loved musicals.  And I went home and begged my parents not to send me to Hebrew school all summer.

Plus I never felt Jewish at all. Even though I could read and speak Hebrew really well, and was steeped in Judaism through my adoptive family, none of that stuff resonated with me. By the time I was 5 years old, I had secretly fallen in love with Jesus Christ, because of all the paintings I had seen of him at the Cleveland Art Museum. I would stare at those paintings and I knew I remembered him from somewhere. It was a visceral response.  And I was captivated by nuns, too — back then, they still wore those old-style, flowing black habits and those white wimples.

As I got a little older, I collected crosses and crucifixes and little illustrations of Jesus that I had to hide under my mattress. It’s interesting to think that I also eventually acquired a lot of  sex books, like Story of O, and I was allowed to just have those things out in plain site. But the Jesus stuff — I would have gotten in so much trouble for having that!

And I also remembered, this morning, a time when I was about 7 or 8, and a little Jewish girlfriend of mine, named Edie — she and I were taking a shortcut through a field one cold autumn afternoon and suddenly found ourselves stuck in some serious mud. That thick sucking wet kind of mud that pulls your shoes right off. When we got to the other side of it, we were outside a convent.  We really needed to clean off our shoes so we went up and asked if we could come in and clean our shoes, even though we were Jews. (We actually said that.)

The nuns were so nice to us. And this convent wasn’t anything like the old Carmelite stone convent I go to an hour from here when I’m having one of my suicidal breakdowns. This other convent in Cleveland was vast and spacious and majestic and filled with light and air and high ceilings. And all these truly friendly nuns, in those flowing black habits, all over the place.

By this time, my adoptive mother had survived cancer and had begun her descent into becoming the meanest, cruelest person I knew on planet Earth. And my adoptive dad was away from home more and more. My home life was becoming a terrifying place. So the warmth and the kindness and friendliness of those nuns — it was so foreign to me. I really wanted to stay there and never leave.

I’d forgotten all about that until this morning.

Well, I now have yet another little notebook with a pen clipped to it. I’m still keeping my daily Inner Being dialogue journal every morning after meditation. I haven’t missed a day of writing in it since I started it in early June. (And I tell you, it is an awesome thing. I recommend keeping one because your inner being probably has all sorts of meaningful information to relate to you.) Well, in addition to that little hard-bound journal, I now have a smaller one, cloth-bound, to have with me all day. And it’s for pre-paving every moment of the day. Making sure I’m consciously choosing how I want to respond to every single thing; how I want to experience it. Because every single thing is, once again, starting to get to me and I just don’t have the time to go nuts right now.

I am still feeling a little disconcerted that Peitor took off for London so suddenly — he texted yesterday that they indeed went there for the holidays and will be back in LA for New Year’s Eve. That’s 3 sessions of script-writing that we’re going to miss because he doesn’t want to work while they’re there. I don’t blame him. He can do whatever he wants to do, but the fact that he never actually said anything to me at all about it and just went. It sort of — well, I don’t know what. He had wanted to start working on the new TV series in January but now he’s going to have to finish mixing and mastering a few songs for his new record, then I have to be in NYC in February to start the table reads for Tell My Bones and will have re-writes to do on that.

You know — time gallops away. And I guess I would have appreciated being in the overall mix somewhere. Other than, you know, a quick text that he’s on a plane heading to London…

And then my friend in Houston who has cancer — my one-text-a-week approach is working nicely. I text once and he now replies within a day. He texted me late last night, in detail about the radiation treatments, which are making him feel even sicker, of course. But since he’s a scientist, he is fascinated by the radiation treatments. He explained to me what goes on, scientifically. And it was like he was exulting in this bombardment of science — which is perfectly okay, because it’s his experience and his world. But again, I found it disconcerting. The intense, scientific description, along with the details of just how bad the cancer is. And I was already in bed, with the lights out, when I got the text.

So yesterday culminated in a whole big bunch of images and sounds and thoughts, heaping up on me while I was in bed in the dark, drifting to sleep. Then I woke up, immediately thinking about  Auschwitz and Nazis  — and how, you know, actually it wasn’t really that far removed from me. And then the beauty of the nuns.

So I’m keeping this other little journal as a way to sort of not only ground myself into staying on course with the images I would rather claim, but also to help draw my preferred experiences to me– every hour, every moment, of every day.

Everybody gets to be whoever they are in this life, but I cannot let myself get derailed by any of it. I just have too much work to do, you know?

And on that note, I will get started here. Thanks for visiting, gang.  I hope Thursday is good to you, wherever you are in the world, I love you guys. See ya.

Related image
Wings of Desire, 1987