T minus 4 1/2 days and counting...

The dog days of summer have arrived. The kids are driving me and each other ape shit, the tomatoes are on the cusp of ripening, the flowers are in full bloom and some are getting straggly, evenings are not as long and mornings come sooner. Yes, the ends of August draw nigh. School starts after Labour day. What pray tell am I counting down? The opening of Terry Gilliam's Brothers Grimm. My best friend and I have a date for its' showing on Friday. And I'm counting down just because I have nothing else to look forward to this week. I also have this looming thing called "back to school" myself. I know this is my final term teaching. I have NO desire to go back to teach in the new work environment - I'd rather pull out each of my finger nails with pliers. So, I have new goals. Terry Gilliam happens to be one of them. Aim High I say!
And it has all the elements I look for in a movie: great effects, dark and scary, wry humour, a bit of beefcake. Brazil was one of the best films of all time. The Fisher King was a personal favorite.

I'll tell this story because it is ancient history - Its at least 15 years old. And I tell it at the risk of mortifying my dear mother, and her panicky thoughts of her neighbours stumbling across my blog. Oh the fun I could have.

It was also the dog days of summer, the waning weeks of August 1992. My friends were at Lollapalooza (The Chili Peppers were headlining) where they had Press Passes to be that much closer to Anthony Keidis. I was left at home. I was not so much left, but had to stay, since I was the only one with a job - which involved looking busy for 8 hours a day at the Department of Advanced Education and Labour for the local provinical government. It was mere weeks away from my move from small maritime city to Toronto, where the population of the university outnumbered the population of said Maritime city. I was alone for the weekend, and decided to rent a VCR and a movie - The Fisher King. I also procured a hit of acid (LSD for the uninitiated) to chase my feelings of loserdom and dejectedness over the rainbow, where things sparkle and only make sense in the moment. I think I was only going to do 1/2 a hit, for those who know what I am talking about, one just doesn't do this sort of thing by themselves. I was bored, so I went ahead with my crazy plan. And those already in the know would concede that I was even more insane by dropping it after lunch. But my friends were at Lollapalooza and I was going to leave them all behind in a couple of weeks to live in the big cold city. I was opting for the insanity plan.

The Fisher King was utterly brilliant. I interpreting meaning in that film that I am sure that was unintended even by the director. I was following this theme throughtout - Robin Williams character was portraying a once normal man with a normal life now homeless after the death of his wife. His character was a metaphor of Christ and the more I looked, the more it appeared. He spoke to God, and lived in the marginal territories between insanity and genius. As I stand back - it probably really did resonate with the savior theme - The grail stuff is there, and each character does go through personal transformations. So maybe I was not that crazy. I was so emersed in the film that tears streamed down my cheeks at moments. They were poignant only to me, I suppose.

So, I am here in my kitchen, kids with breakfast and Spongebob, being nostalgic and all and I can't help but see the pattern developing. The Dog days of August, Terry Gilliam, on the cusp of big changes ahead. There will be no more LSD, who needs it when you have Spongebob?