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Saw Japón Saturday night. A grippingly direct, real, honest film set in a remote canyon in Mexico. The scenery is beautiful but in a way very different from, say, the spectacular color of Bryce Canyon—this canyon is stark, harsh, forbidding, almost bleak, and central to the story. B and I wondered about the title. He mentioned a connection with the misty mountains and asceticism, and I agreed; it reminded me of Daily Zen quotes referring to mountain hermitages.
A friend recently said, about the function of music and art, that she felt it had to evoke and resonate with happiness somehow. I’ve wondered how to reconcile that with stories like this one, of a painter intending to commit suicide. I’ve had my music described as having a feeling of melancholy, even sadness. Yeah. I wonder if it’s that I find happiness in confronting and looking for contrast with sadness?
Perhaps that’s why another friend found Waking Life scary while I found it fascinating and affirming.
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