Film review: Whatever Works by Woody Allen

**this review contains spoilers (that shouldn't affect your enjoyment of the film at all)**

One of the constants of living in Prague is the dearth of good films in theaters. We do get plenty of American films, but it’s mostly just the blockbusters. The odd indie film will sometimes make it over, but that’s usually because of either the director or an actor being someone Czechs already know and like.

I discovered that the new Woody Allen flick, Whatever Works is playing, and, although it seems almost too easy to dialogue with a Woody Allen movie in the light of Ecclesiastes, I wasn’t sure Robin Hood’s pre-story was going to work for me. I knew nothing of Whatever Works going into it, except that Larry David stars. I know he was a producer and writer on “Seinfeld” (which I liked), and I saw part of an episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” (which I didn’t like).

Allen lays out his thoughts on religion and life immediately in this film, as David’s character, Boris, talks with his friends as the film opens (David takes the place of Allen’s usual neurotic New York Jew in this movie). Boris tells his friends that the main problem with all religions is that they assume goodness in people. He, on the other hand, sees humans as a failed species. The only thing to be done in this world is take pleasure where it can be had, because nothing means anything.

Boris starts talking into the camera, which he does throughout the film (a typical Allen device), to the consternation of the other characters, who don’t see the audience. Boris tells us of his first marriage, which looked great on paper, he says, but life is not on paper. As the marriage ended badly, he jumped out a window but landed on an awning, his life spared. One night a teen-aged runaway persuades him to let her into his apartment, and she ends up staying longer than he planned. He complains of her idiocy and naivete but grows so used to her and her way of parroting his own words that he decides to marry her. The girl, Melody, is from Louisiana, and first her mother and then her father come to New York to find her. Hilarity ensues.

The film actually is quite funny. There were plenty of laugh-out-loud moments, which is something I haven’t experienced in an Allen film for a while. Czechs tend to love Allen, testified to by the rather large number of audience members at 8 on a Wednesday night. I found myself laughing at the same time as the rest of the crowd, which doesn’t often happen, either.

Larry David has wonderful timing and seems to be pretty much playing himself as the kvetching old guy (what it must be like to sit in a room with David and Allen!). Evan Rachel Wood, as Melody, looks much younger than I remembered her, and seems to be doing her best Sookie Stackhouse impression. The scene-stealer, as always, is the fabulous Patricia Clarkson, as Melody’s mother, Marietta.

Marietta arrives after searching for Melody and is horrified at Melody’s choice of a husband, and promptly goes about finding a better match for her. Marietta just left her husband for cheating on her with her best friend, and she finds comfort (and life-changing career advice) from first one then a second friend of Boris. And goes from being a typical Southern Christian married woman to a Bohemian artist living with two men. Late in the film Melody’s father (Ed Begley, Jr., typically histrionic) knocks on her door, as well, and goes through the same protestations as Marietta about Melody’s life choices. In the end, he finds comfort at a bar in the arms of a gay man, and realizes he’s been a closet homosexual his entire life. Melody ends up with her mother’s choice for her, Randy, and divorces Boris, who again attempts suicide. This time he lands on top of a woman, a psychic, who recovers nicely and becomes his lover.

So all of our characters find love in the course of the film, although rather unconventionally. Which is what the title, Whatever Works, is referring to. Boris repeats his mantra of romance being crazy, and life not working out as you expect it to, so we all need to find love wherever we can, in whatever way we can.

Allen, via Boris, is extremely critical of religions and philosophies in this film. He’s pretty evenhanded in poking fun at all of them (one of the biggest laughs in the film involves concentration camps), and it occurred to me that, in this film, most of the people spouting religion or philosophy don’t know what on earth they’re talking about. They’re mostly saying what they’ve heard. And it all sounds ridiculous coming from their mouths, whether it’s religious Christianity or string theory. Empty thoughts, whether of God or philosophy, are simply empty.

Like Qoheleth in Ecclesiastes, Allen serves as a corrective to those who would offer the platitudes they find in religion. Life doesn’t work out the way we want it to: so we do what we can. Boris’s first speech to the camera could be a 21^st century nutshell version of Ecclesiastes. The world is an unfair, scary place (the horror!) that doesn’t make sense. We enjoy what we have and we are grateful. Boris’s last speech has lovely moments, like when he encourages us to be aware of and grateful for every temporary measure of grace, whatever love you can find, whatever happiness you have. He attributes these things to luck, and not to God, but he realizes they are a gift.

Allen is a cynic regarding humanity and God, for certain. But he is a believer in grace, in humor, and in love. This film is probably my favorite of Allen’s films, not only because of its light touch and great humor, but because of the way he allows love to triumph, even when it makes no sense. There are those who may disagree with Allen’s representation of loving relationships, and with a title like Whatever Works, it may be that he’s pushing the gay-marriage agenda, but I don’t think so. I think he’s more concerned with communicating the joy and grace love brings to our sad little lives.

assuming need

went swimming in the ocean at san clemente pier today. last weekend when i was here the swell was way too big for swimming and i had to be content with wading up to my shins and letting my ankles get pounded and bruised by the rocks coming in on the surf. today it was much calmer and full of swimmers, with boogie boards and without.

i like swimming out past the breaking waves so i can float on the surface and bob with the waves as they go in. i wasn't quite prepared for the strength of these waves, though, or the riptide that accompanied them. soon i found myself out further than i planned. i watched the guy swimming near me start paddling in and decided to do the same. it was frustrating to feel like i was swimming but not getting much of anywhere, but i wasn't worried. i swim a couple days a week and, while i'm not a super strong swimmer, i can hold my own. so i didn't panic. i'm wondering if my face told a different story.

because suddenly there was a lifeguard in front of me with one of those red buoy things. i was so totally surprised that when he pushed it toward me i took hold of it. "there's a strong riptide here," he said, and started backstroking in. he was strong, because i could really feel the pull when the rope went taut. within a couple strokes we were back in a safer area, and all the people stood staring at me. i have to admit i was a bit embarrassed. i'm not even sure i thanked the lifeguard, but he was gone as suddenly as he had showed up.

the guy who had been swimming near me saw me and said, "you were ok, weren't you?" and i said, "yeah, i was fine. i don't know why he came out." and that was it.

i've been thinking about it more, and i realize i really didn't need the lifeguard to tow me in. in fact, i was so shocked that he was in front of me that i just did what he expected of me without thinking much about it. the reality is, i was fine and would have been fine without his help. if he had asked me if i was ok, i think i would have said, "yeah, but if you swim in beside me that would be cool." i knew i could make the swim myself but would have been fine with the knowledge that if i did need him, he would be next to me.

now, his training probably tells him it's better not to ask questions when it's a question of drowning in riptides and surf. and i respect that. but i started thinking about all the ways we assume others need our help. when we don't ask but just assume need, we don't give people a chance to say no or yes or not really, but it would be cool if you swam/walked/hung out beside me while i try to do this on my own. we also might figure that, since they said ok, they meant it. when the truth is, they might have been caught off guard, or not known what to say, or figured they couldn't say no.

i didn't like how i felt while being unnecessarily rescued, and i hope i remember what it feels like when i'm in a position to assume what others need at a given moment, and ask a question before taking charge.

happy easter, ya'll

Sunday 12 april 2009 12:07pm.

Easter Sunday morning. I don’t usually go to church while I’m visiting my dad. Mostly because I’m usually only here a few days and I don’t like to miss my own church in CA so I go back on Sunday morning/afternoon. But, it being Easter, I thought I would go check out one of the local places. The paper showed about 20 different churches of all types of denominations. From traditional Catholic and Baptist ones to the Cowboy Church and the one I ended up at, Church out of Church. Weird name. I kept calling it Church not in Church in my head.

Coming from Prague, where there are only small or smallish congregations of the few churches in the city of 1+ million, I wasn’t sure what to expect out of church among many in a town pop 8 or so thousand. I pulled into the Flying J Ranch a little before 10 and was directed into a parking place and pointed to a wooden building. Walked into a dark room full of picnic tables and gravel floor and poured myself some coffee. Finding a place to sit shouldn’t have been difficult but I’m not used to the picnic table seating arrangement, so I kind of wandered a bit. Tried to sit near some people but it turned out they were saving seats for their family. So I went off to the side and sat alone.

Probably because it’s Easter, the whole place filled up by the time the service started. Hundreds of people. Making this small-town NM church more populated than any church in world-capital Prague. Apparently the family that was supposed to show up didn’t, and the woman who had refused me a seat stood up, caught my eye and tried to wave me over. I appreciated her effort but waved her off. I was fine where I was, actually.

This being New Mexico, there were plenty of cowboy boots and hats and tight Wrangler jeans. But also fancy fur-lined coats (the room was pretty cool and there had been a sprinkling of snow fall during the night) and even a few Easter sundresses. Those girls must have been frozen. I never took off my jacket.

The service itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, as far as churches go. I learned that it’s only been around since September. Wow. They’re focused on Jesus and loving him and the world and each other, which I’m on board with. They’ve started something where they go to trailer parks and other poor-folk places after the Sunday service, fire up a couple grills, and feed people. That’s pretty cool.

As frustrated as I can be with church in America, I most always appreciate being there, especially when it’s a group of authentic people who find hope in Jesus and realize they sure need it. I looked around and saw people happy to see one another, giving hugs and smiles away. And I realized what a lovely thing the church is and why it’s so necessary. We need to feel loved and cared for, and there aren’t many places to find that these days. You might find it in a local pub or hair salon or your office, but most people are searching for it. And I think it’s beautiful when people find it in church. That’s where it’s supposed to be, if I understand Jesus right.

The wind was blowing as I walked in and the sun hitting my eyes caused them to tear up, but I found myself getting teary during the service anyway. That often happens to me when I go to church in America. Odd. I haven’t figured it out yet, but it’s something in the words spoken, or sensing the Spirit or something else. But it almost always gets me.

The passage the pastor read of the Easter story was one of the ones read during the new Czech translation celebration I went to right before leaving Prague. The part where Peter and John go running to the tomb. Sadly, the pastor skipped the Mary segment, where she runs into Jesus in the garden and mistakes him for the gardener until he says her name. The actress who read that story was amazing and I loved how she interpreted the words with her tone. The Czech words were echoing in my head as I listened to it in English.

They had an egg hunt for the kiddies afterward and then hot dogs and hamburgers for everyone. Nice. I’ll probably go back another week. I wish I’d connected with some people, but there were a lot of families and probably a ton of visitors because it was Easter, so it might be easier to meet folks next week.

ninja on the metro

first off, i don't have an iphone. maybe yet. so uploading the pics i took today has been a chore and, because i have no clue what the passcode is for the bluetooth part of my phone, i might never be able to upload them. which is a shame, but not the end of the world.

so, because there haven't been any terrorist attacks in prague, security on the metro is, shall we say, lax. the cops ride now and then, but i think they're on the lookout for vandals (graffitti taggers and sticker, um, stickers) more than anything. i regularly see guys in camo gear with paintball or other rifles on their way to some sort of war game.

but i've never seen anything like the ninja before.

also, i have to say, the prague metro is the place to see almost anything. drunks puking is old hat. drunks chatting up cute chicks happens all the time. rabid football and hockey fans are there anytime one of the local teams play. and once, in 1995, i witnessed a guy getting off a car with a HUGE owl on his arm, like he was about to go, well, not falconing, but owling, when he got off. the thing followed me with its huge eyes and swively head. that's when i thought i'd seen everything. well, no.

especially because a few years ago i saw a skinny little guy in full S&M gear waiting for the train. that was a little traumatic.

today i went down the stairs onto the platform and saw mr ninja guy in all black, including the big tunic, weaponing up. he was pulling one thing after another out of a big back to tuck into his wide leather studded belt. first one sword, then another. then a big stick. then another big stick. then another sword. mind you, everyone who walked past couldn't help but gawk.

and he was totally oblivious.

and i think my surreptitious picture-taking with my phone was probably not all that sneaky.

finally he held two wooden bows in his hands. didn't see a quiver full of arrows, flaming or otherwise. then he boarded the metro car like everyone else and stood (what else could he do?) for a few stops before exiting.

now, most folks stared initially, but then accepted his getup and looked away. not me. i could hardly take my eyes off him. partly because i couldn't fathom why he would unload his bag of goodies before entering the metro. why not wait until arriving at his destination, whatever that might have been (and i have NO idea what that could have been). why arm himself first? attention? maybe. convenience? not sure.

so weird.

but i couldn't help imagining what might happen if such a man would attempt to enter public transport in the states. or london. or madrid. or anywhere that takes weaponry as a threat.

certainly he would receive more than a few stares. he'd probably be tackled and quickly disarmed.

like i said, i've seen guys with rifles, even those not in cases. hop on the metro and hop off again with no interference.

it's terribly funny in many ways. but rather disturbing in others.

ok, got the bluetooth to work. here are the pics:

enough

i went to the post office today to pay my phone and cable bills. and to buy some stamps. i've been sending cards to the states and i think it's nicer to have a stamp on each one than a big post office printed thing. it's similar to how they do it in the US. so, since i was thinking about it, i decided to buy 15 stamps for the cards i have sitting at home waiting to be written.

i haven't bought stamps in a while so i asked the woman how much was a stamp for a letter to the US. 18kc. great. i'll take 15. she gave me a look and said, ok, let me take care of your bills first. no problem.

after the bills are done she takes down the big book of stamps every teller has. it's not like in the states where they have them in books of 20 or rolls of 100. nope. each teller has this big (bigger than legal size--it's like a coffee-table book) book of heavy paper with stamps of varying denominations paper-clipped to the pages. this is true in every post office i've ever been in here.

at the main post office there's a special window just for stamps where you can buy all kinds of all denominations. again, more common to buy one or two or four than 100. at my post office, you have to go through a special door to do anything in bulk. but i only wanted 15. that's not bulk. right?

so the teller finds the 18kc stamps. and she says something about how 15 is quite a lot and did i really need that many. before i knew what we were working with, i said, well, maybe 10. she kind of screwed up her face in dislike. but then she found the right stamps. and it didn't look like too many...until she unfolded the second page and lo, there were more than 40! she asked again, how many? and i said, well, 15. you've got plenty. again with the discomfort on her face. as if i was taking something precious from her. reluctantly she tore off half the page and returned the other 20 or so to their clip in the book.

what happened there? are tellers specifically instructed to sell as few stamps as possible? keep as many in the book as you can. we'll be grading you on how few you sell and how many you retain. this is all you get for the month. if you run out, you'll be humiliated into asking other tellers to dig into their own books to help you out, and you don't want to do that. because there's not enough.

i think that's key. not enough. i think that's a basic principle in this country. for many decades there really was never enough, and now that there is, no one knows how to deal with it. my local grocery store regularly runs out of milk and sugar and eggs. if i run over on a sunday evening, i can't be sure i'll find milk. no kidding. somehow they haven't gotten the hang of ordering the right amount. that, or they just don't bother to put it out.

but there is enough. there are certainly enough stamps. there is certainly enough milk. but someone wants people to believe there isn't. i don't know what it is. keep the people frustrated? don't bother running a store or post office well? don't try to serve the people? fight them at every turn when they want something you think they shouldn't have?

it's not uncommon here to be scorned by a waiter, shop assistant, post office teller. why? we need each other to conduct our business. they have something i want. i have something they want. why are they so mad at me?

getting back to enough. i read an article about the idea of enough a while back. i wish i remember where. but it talked about the idea that, if we all realized there was enough of what we need or want in this world, we wouldn't be in such a hurry to trample other people to try to get it faster. complicated to try to tell this to people starving in africa or without medicine in asia, i know. but, for us westerners who really do have enough. why do we always think we don't?

goodwill

i wasn't in europe on 9/11. i moved over here a brief month later. i'd lived in prague before and was somewhat surprised at the goodwill feelings shown toward americans and the desire to hear our stories about that day. most people liked america then (clinton had been adored) but this was at a level beyond the norm.

that didn't last very long. i'm not really sure when it changed, but certainly by the start of the war in iraq in early 2003 people in europe didn't display such good feelings toward america.

within a couple years i was constantly asked my opinion on the war (this has waned in the last 2 or so years for some reason), and my opinion on bush (laughter always ensued when i said i didn't think he was an idiot). and most europeans i talked to, while they still enjoyed the company of american people, had nothing nice to say about america as a whole and her government, specifically.

it's hard to explain what i'm feeling today. watching tv and reading stories online and seeing people around the world (and not just the expats living elsewhere) celebrating...what? american government?! it's unreal. and i can't help but compare it to 9/11.

i heard someone say that, on 9/11, everyone in the world felt the pain and all were new yorkers. i feel the same now, that the world is proud of america and everyone wants to share in the joy of what we have done. something great has happened and everyone wants to participate.

and, just as after 9/11, decisions were made and that goodwill swirled down the drain, there are choices to be made. and this goodwill will either continue or it will slip through our fingers. i hope obama makes good decisions. i hope that having a president with the middle name Hussein will indeed make radical islamists think twice about the evil of america. i hope that our country, which has been gashed and slashed by divisive and deceitful politics, can heal and come together.

we'll have to see.

Vote.

i don't write that often anyway, but i've been avoiding writing about this election. well, barring that sarah palin thing. couldn't help it. mostly i've been avoiding it because i've been angry.

for months i have been receiving emails from family and friends. emails filled with lies, untruths and half-truths. all generated with the purpose of scaring people away from this man obama.

i can't watch pundits; i can't watch mccain or palin anymore either. i can't take sarah's snarky sarcasm (from someone well-versed in sarcasm). i can't handle mccain's exaggerations and anger.

i've lived overseas for most of bush's presidency. which doesn't mean i haven't felt the pain. i've defended my country countless times and regularly asked people to consider a perspective other than their own before judging. i've offered a different viewpoint and asked them to think about it.

i grew up in an extremely republican county (dupage) situated right next to an extremely democratic county (cook) in illinois. i considered myself republican and voted accordingly for most of my voting career. it made sense to me. or at least didn't seem offensive to me.

that has changed.

i have my thoughts about abortion, taxes, healthcare, greed, joe the plumber, socialism, muslims, same-sex marriage and everything else that has been thrown at us. and i don't want to talk about it any more, frankly.

our country has been so divided by race, by age, by education level, by coast, by state color, by religion, by ______. i feel it when i'm there and i can see it from here. i'm saddened that mccain and palin would resort to calling some of america the real america and letting the rest of the country wonder what part of america they are in, then. i'm saddened when people who want to see change in america and criticize where it currently stands are called unpatriotic or un-american.

cornel west said something like this: loving america is like being in a marriage. you don't always like it. but you love it. you say what is wrong because you love it and want it to be the best it can be. i think that criticizing what you see as wrong and doing something to change it is the most american thing you can do. it's in our blood. it's how we got to be americans. (it's what those prop-8 supporters are doing but don't like when others do.)

our country needs to heal from these last 8 years of darkness, lies, division, hatred and fear.

i don't see mccain as capable of helping that healing. he doesn't even see the need or he'd realize he's making the gashes deeper.

i wasn't convinced that barack obama was capable of helping, either. but i've listened to him talk. i've seen the other people who listen to him talk. i see that he's thoughtful, careful, a thinker. we haven't had that in 8 years.

i don't think i'll agree with or like everything he does if he is elected. i think he'll make mistakes and joe biden will keep putting his foot in his very big mouth.

but i think he can be the president who starts america down the road toward healing and unity, and who brings us back to the global stage as a model and not a cautionary tale.

let's not be afraid. let's refuse to be manipulated into fear. we need not fear who know Peace.

on sarah palin

so, i've been thinking about this a lot and have decided to weigh in on the sarah palin circus, because i have a perspective that i haven't heard anyone else mentioning.

now, to start, i agree with barack obama and others who are saying family is off-limits and should not be a factor in people deciding whom to vote for. and i think it's ridiculous to blame sarah for bristol and levi's stupidity and carelessness. we all know that parents of 17-year-olds can't possibly control their every move. you raise them as well as you can, but they start making their own decisions and some of them are pretty stupid. (topic for another day=why teaching only abstinence is also careless. you'd think kids would know by now that, if you're going to have sex, for pete's sake use a condom. correctly. clearly, they don't. oh, and even nice Christian kids who go to church and all that are also having sex. it's a fact. realize you have to deal with it!)

sarah palin's qualifications or lack thereof for vice president do not begin or end with her abilities as a mother or the dumb things her kids do. running a country is hardly the same thing. this i can agree with and stand behind.

and as to dr laura's claim that palin should never have been picked because her responsibility is to her family first and that will be a hard call should she have to choose... well, plenty of women are able to find a way to make it work. not all can juggle it well, but it's not up to me to decide how much time she gives her kids--won't her husband be there for the kids, anyway? this sounds like a copout as i write it, and, while i'm inclined to think dr laura has a point, i'm not sure i can fully stand behind her on it.

no, my problem with sarah palin is this: how dare she thrust her daughter bristol and her out-of-wedlock pregnancy into the international spotlight like this? i keep hearing that this is a family matter and the family should be allowed to deal with it in private. yes, i agree. but clearly sarah did not. she knew her daughter was pregnant; she knew it would become news, all her 'how dare you's notwithstanding; she knew that everyone in the world with access to CNN would know the names bristol and levi, and be able to pick them out of a lineup. (honestly, i can't believe i do. i would never have known which kid had which phoenix-familyish name except for the pregnancy and poor trig.)

the one to blame here is mommy sarah. had the family already been on the campaign trail before the pregnancy, that would be one thing. but sarah knew about the pregnancy, knew what would happen, and pressed on with her own agenda anyway.

how mortifying must it be for bristol? she's 17 and pregnant, and now the whole world knows it. she was probably dreading the day she'd start to show and her friends would notice it. now, bump or no bump, we all know about it.

and this levi kid gets flown down to the lower-48 to be trotted out with the others so he can hold bristol's hand through the whole thing. ugh.

sarah palin is a young woman. she's in her early 40s. if she is such a valuable and clear choice for a running mate, she would certainly be asked again in 4 or 8 years. and then this mess with bristol would be completely behind us and just a footnote to her mother's life, instead of one of many sideshows. her time did not have to be right now.

i think it's rotten that sarah palin would knowingly subject her 17-year-old daughter to such intense scrutiny and publicity about her pregnancy. it's one thing for 600k in alaska to know the story; it's another completely for everyone with a tv on earth to know about it. (and don't tell me she couldn't know that; that's what they pay teams of people millions of dollars to know in advance.) this was a mother's decision and she placed her own career before the emotional and psychological health of her underaged child. ugh.

and, while i'm on the subject, i might as well say what i think about bristol and levi marrying. don't do it, kids. you're too young. this is such a brilliant possibility for demonstrating the beauty and selflessness of adoption. so you won't abort? great. but don't ruin your lives. give the baby to a couple who are ready for a child and have the resources, emotionally and financially, to care for it. that would be beautiful and a real power move for the pro-life folks to show that there's a third option beyond aborting or keeping for youself.

tell me all you like about how hard it is to give up a child you've carried for 9 months. i believe it. i've never heard anyone saying adoption is easy for the bio mom. but it's about the child, isn't it? abortion might be a selfish choice, but so is keeping a child you're not ready for.

dreams

a friend of mine cut me out of his life almost two years ago now. it was the weirdest thing: we had recently talked on the phone while i was in prague and he knew i was coming to the US in a few weeks. when i arrived and called him, i got his voicemail. he never returned that call or any of the other messages i left during those weeks.

i kept giving him the benefit of the doubt that he was really busy or something...but he was usually good about calling me back.

then i talked with a mutual friend, who said casually, oh, he's cut you out of his life. he did it to me. i never thought he'd do it to you.

neither did i.

in an episode of 'friends,' the subject of cutting friends out of one's life comes up. it's played out through secrets revealed, hurt feelings, reconciliation, and through it all...humor. i have to say, i haven't found any humor in this.

i've been friends with this guy for almost eleven years. he was the first high school student i met when i was in the process of going on staff with the local church youth group. he was a senior then and lived close to my parents (where i was living) and struck me as a very intelligent, savvy kid. so the youth pastor suggested he help me and another friend plan a game that was to be our big introduction to the youth group.

we were immediately buddies. there wasn't anything inappropriate about our relationship, but we were very close. we understood each other. we'd talk about his girlfriends, culture, God, the future, my desire for life in prague, everything we were going through. he'd sometimes show up at my office in san francisco. i loved that. he would never sign in at reception--he'd just walk in like he owned the place and surprise me at my cube.

he shared a lot with me about his struggles pleasing and being understood by his parents. we had a lot of long, deep conversations. like i said, we were close.

then he joined the marines. i was part of the group that went to his boot-camp graduation in san diego. we were so proud of him standing there like a post in the pouring rain, shouting back to his drill instructor.

i was with him the day he sold his little black honda prelude. he called it negrito and he was sad to sell it, but he was shipping out for hawaii. that day he gave me the drum key from his own keychain. he wasn't going to be playing the drums much anymore.

while he was in hawaii i spent about 9 months in prague--through a very cold winter and difficult work and living situations. i discovered a cheapish way to call him and we spent lots of time on the phone through those long months. we understood well each other's loneliness and separation from the life we knew. he was a lifeline for me then.

by the time he finished with the marines i had spent a year in the US and was already back in prague, living here full-time--with a great job and a good place to live. his last year in hawaii he'd become less communicative and, by the time he was done with his four years, only rumors about his whereabouts moved through the groups of people who knew him.

i, and others, completely lost track of him.

then, about 4 years ago maybe, a friend of mine heard he was working in a restaurant in the town where my mom lives. so, while i was in town, we went to the restaurant. sure enough, there he was. and happy to see us. at least i thought so. i knew i was ecstatic to finally see him again.

over the next two years, we'd get together every time i was in town. we'd go for coffee; i went to lit. class with him once (he was getting his degree on the GI bill); we'd have long philosophical conversations. during one of those visits a mutual friend killed himself. my friend and i were, like everyone we knew, shocked, and we talked a lot about it together. there were times he'd be less communicative, and i'd have to show up at his place in order to talk with him.

i knew my good friend wasn't really happy. he always seemed to be, but also sort of not, to me. his years as a marine had, naturally, changed him tremendously. he didn't see the world or people the same way he did when he went in. he didn't think about God in the same way, either. he was determined (and said this to me) to kill the person he'd once been. it wasn't who he wanted to be. this made me sad, because i had dearly loved that other person, and i still saw him in my friend--it wasn't going to be easy to erase him away.

from prague we would carry on long discussions about life, relationships, philosophical ideas. i on my balcony looking at the stars through the long night hours, he at juice bars, coffee houses, wherever. we often disagreed, but in a friendly way. even when he got freaky about something and spent some months without communicating, he'd come back, and usually share something he'd written with me.

so the cutting off came as a surprise.

the mutual friend who named what he had done theorized that things had gotten too real with me: my dad had cancer and it had really changed our relationship for the better, but it wasn't certain how he would respond to treatment. i talked with my friend about this regularly.

i thought that strange, considering our deep conversations, but let it go.

i actually think that cutting me out was part of the necessary process to killing the man he had been. i was a close reminder of that. and i kept believing he was still there and encouraged it. but that's not who he wants to be. he wants to be a man without friends (maybe a couple marine buddies still, but not the married ones)--just drinking partners, bodies to share a bed with, co-workers, whatever. not anyone close, and not anyone who knew him when.

he's an asshole and that's who he wants to be.

i ran into another mutual friend the last time i was in the US and we talked about the marine. this other friend really misses him, too. i'm going to see him and his wife when i'm in town this winter. i'm hopeful we can track the marine down again.

last night/early this morning i dreamed about him. it's slightly hazy how the dream went. i know he kept disappointing me with his actions in the dream. he was wasting his life, his talents (of which he has many), his love on unworthy things in my dream. and i was sad. finally he talked with me. wrapped his iron-like arms around me and talked with me.

i would give a lot for a moment like that: to hug him and talk with him. listen to him and love him.

and my keys are still held together by the drum key.

chocolate chips and marriage

i love the internationalness of life in prague. tonight i went to a friend's place to make christmas cookies. we made chocolate chocolate chip cookies (too sweet for me), sugar cookies (we frosted them with nutella!) and vanilla crescents, which are czech, and very similar to russian teacakes (which is what my family called them), but shaped like...crescents. delish.

the friend who hosted the evening is karla. she's costa rican. a lawyer educated at duke, she works for a multinational company and has been in prague for 9 months. she loves to text me at 8pm, asking if we can meet for a drink at 9 or 10. invariably i'm in my pajamas early that night. but i love her so i drag myself out again. and we always share some good laughs.

[this happened last night. but i had to go out anyway to pay a bill i'd neglected to pay while the regular post office was open--that's where i pay bills--so i had to go to the all-night one in the center. which put me in the two biggest squares of prague just as the mikulaš stuff was winding down. i totally forgot that the čerts (see yesterday's post) are all ratty and raggedy AND done up in a sort of crude blackface. they are scary. i waited in line for a langoše--like a funnel cake but not sweet and with garlic butter, ketchup and cheese on top; sort of a poor man's pizza: yum--behind one and i could see where the screams come from.]

anyway. it was really funny to me to hear karla rail about the lack of chocolate chips for sale in stores here. apparently she scoured her grocery store for one and was miffed that they didn't have any. honey, nobody has them here. ok, except culinaria, but their prices are highway robbery. so i told her we'd just do what everyone always does: chop up good chocolate.

the other guests were colleagues of hers. three czechs, a young woman recently arrived from the philippines, and a czech-canadian who was born here but raised in toronto. fun!

we talked about all kinds of things and someone asked my opinion on the war. i hate being asked this.

[this reminds me that i went to a new class at the high school today. great class of 15- to 16-year-olds. one student asked if i had any friends here. this is in the same breath as acknowledging that i've been here about 7 years. and i'm always incredulous when asked that question. seriously? do i have friends? where i've lived for 7 years? do you think i'm going to say no? what if i did? would that be ok with you? would you have friends if you lived in a foreign country for 7 years? yes, yes i do. i don't think i could survive without my friends. i'm ALWAYS curious at the rationale for that question. i want to scream at them for some reason. i never do. i'm always nice.]

anyway. we talked a lot about czech culture and american culture and for some reason i got defensive of the US on certain things. i think i hate when people point out the ignorance world-wise of americans without considering their own (example: most europeans have no idea what state chicago is in). we're just a bigger target, i guess. but it wasn't meant meanly or badly.

and then i was asked the question i am always asked: so, are you going to stay here forever?

this time, it was followed with the option: or do you have any plans? i like when that's there, because that's my answer: no, i don't have any plans. i figure there has to be something between 7 years and forever. if something better comes along i'll consider it. for now, i'm doing what i love....... my answer is usually something like that. maybe just in a different order.

and then.

ahhhh, one of the czechs (a married man--the only married person in the group; only male ,too) says. you want to fall in love with a man, get married and.... and here he trailed off.

no, i said firmly, there's no man in my decision-making equation.

what? exclaimed the czech-canadian with alarm, as she spun around to face me (she's engaged). you don't want to get married???

i didn't say that. i'm just not waiting to plan my life until i get married. i'm not waiting for a man so i can do something.

*sigh*

why is it that a woman--generally of a certain age, although this has been happening to me for years, and i KNOW no one in that room pegged me within 5 years of my age--can't make a comment about not basing her life and decisions around whether or not she is dating/engaged/married/looking hungrily for a mate without a cry of alarm and the nearly verbatim wide-eyed question: you don't want to get married?

*sigh*

why can't i celebrate my freedom, time, spontaneity, healthy relationships, etc., etc., while i have them as a single woman? most of my honest married friends realize they didn't enjoy their singleness as much as they wish they did. they didn't realize: they still get lonely, they can't just do what they want when they want, marriage is hard, they don't have time for things they used to have time for, etc., etc.

i have nothing against marriage. on the contrary: it's a miraculous, beautiful thing. but. i have a huge thing against the married folks who think everyone needs to be like them to be their friend. i have a huge thing against those who secretly think my singleness is my punishment for something or because i'm lacking somewhere spiritually or emotionally. i have a huge thing against anyone who doesn't realize that the relationships i have with students wouldn't really be possible if i were married with a brood of kids.

it's not that i don't want to get married. i actually find that question absurd and unanswerable. one doesn't marry in the abstract. one marries another person. the only reasonable question is: don't you want to get married to ______? or: why aren't you married to _____? when you feel confident inserting a name, we can talk. i'd be happy to tell you why i'm not married to mike. or steve. or erez.

so why not celebrate where each of us finds ourselves in life, huh?

bake some cookies and enjoy the sweetness. don't ask why the hands that made them don't have a certain ring on them.