A voice on the radio told me there was "a starman waiting in the sky," who would "like to come and meet us," but "he thinks he'd blow our minds". It wasn't David, but the lady borrowing his words and melody still warmed my heart as I drove downhill this morning.
The Trial, by Franz Kafka, is one of the best books ever written. It starts with questions and it leaves you without answers. It fails to define the clear boundaries between fiction and reality, and it leaves you utterly and purposely confused. As life does.
Mark Kozelek loves Portugal so much that he owns a record label named Caldo Verde. But there is no risk of that love going unexpressed, now that he has composed a quasi-hymn in praise for the country where the people don’t walk, they stroll, where drivers assume to crying to Sun Kil Moon’s songs and where the songwriter promises to retire and expresses the wish to have part of his ashes sprayed upon.
This is one of those good weekends for the arts' sector. I would like to highlight two events: first, the theatre play Made in Macau 2.0. Secondly, the guided tour to José Drummond's solo exhibition I'm too sad to tell you, hosted by the artist himself.
Set in the 1970s, 20th Century Women also covers with subtlety the historic time in the US, through the music, the moments and the struggles. The characters are deep, well thought out, profound. The film moves us deeply, as we move into the lives of this fantastic quintet.