I'ts the 25th of June 2018. The sky is grey and clouded but the sun shines. I think this type of weather can best be summed up as a wrestle match: on the one side it's too hot to wear a jumper but on the other side it's too cold not to. So you constantly have to fiddle around -arm in, arm out- until you give up and sit around helplessly, with one arm in, one out. Or worse your jumper has turned itself into a smothering hump around your neck, and god knows where the arms are now.

So I'm sitting around helplessly, trying to find the arms of my jumper so I can fiddle it into another position and, while I'm fiddling, I amuse myself thinking about how I could possibly turn this into a blogpost. Because although I write flares of possible blogposts in my notebook daily, I recently find it more and more impossible to turn those flares into fire. My mum says this is because I take everything too seriously, to which I snort and definsively say "no, no, no, no". But perhaps she's right. Question mark.

On a roll

The other day I aimlessly browsed Twitter when I stumbled upon a tweet that proudly exclaimed: 'Just scheduled blogposts up to February 2019! I'm on a roll!', or something among those lines (I'm quite sure 'I'm on a roll' wasn't in fact included as that doesn't sound very internetsy). After staring at it for some time, I scrolled further and spend many precious minutes looking at cute dog pictures. However that tweet burned a hole in my (sub)conscious and, like a cigarette burn, when I came close I still caught a whiff of its implications. What to make of this?

That tweet bothers me, I think, because it represents everything I do not do. It shows consistency and a certainty in that what one produces. A preconceived knowledge on what is good and whether that goodness will still exist when its consumption is postponed. I think I write more in the moment, therefore making the goodness or pleasure of its consumption also momentarily. For me at least. Like the jumper around my neck, of which I have now found the left (or right, not quite sure) arm, I'm -what feels like- forever struggling to manage its position. Never sure how the fabric acts in relation to my body temperature. Never sure where my blogpost lives within the blogosphere.

Secret admirer

I find it almost unthinkable to be as organised and as sure of my blogposts to reach out to a new year already. Is that what they call evergreen content? Content that is shareable whenever, wherever, as it rings true from start to finish regardless of change within the world or within yourself. All I can think of is the potential choking hazard; there's just so much fabric you can fiddle one way before turning blue.

And still I secretly admire and wonder how I could become that tweet. How that tweet could be typed by my fingers, send by my thumb and seen by my eyes knowing I've accomplished such a thing. Taking a step back: I look from my flared nonsensical notes to my last blogpost published almost a month ago to my scheduled posts of exactly none. I start to sweat. Also, admittedly, because the jumper is now half-fumbled over my head, half stuck underneath my chin.


As if having a fever dream, I see my mothers lips part and move in slow motion: 'you take everything too seriously'. But perhaps I'm not taking things serious enough, mum! While I'm in the middle of wrestle-mania, others are singing happy new year in -I imagine- classy 1980s business suits, twirling their moustaches, looking down at us mere June 2018 bloggers. While they are heartedly laughing at the future, I'm knees deep in the present with the rest of me stuck in the past. Even when my jumper finally pops over my head and I'm freed from its tight grip, I'm reminded of this never ending cycle, as I hastily throw the jumper back on (it's getting rather chilly again) and count myself lucky if I even make it to the 26th.

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Call Me By Your Name (CMBYN) probably hasn't slipped your radar. The 2017 film starring Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer was up for an Oscar and, as it explores a 'controversial topic' (a same-sex age-gapped relationship #saywhaaaat), everyone had a tweet ready to state their subsequent feelings; outrage, confusion and/or share their plans to permanently move to Italy. I mean, regardless of anyone's opinion on the film, I think we can all agree that the Italy in CMBYN is the kind of Italy no one minds to spend a lazy summer's day at (even without a wild Hammer or Chalamet frolicking around).

I recently took it upon myself to watch this highly acclaimed film and, before I go any further, please put your torches down and give me a chance to explain myself: I didn't love it. *takes a deep breath* Although I acknowledge the phenomenal acting (that last scene where Chalamet's character just sits crying in front of the fireplace... literal chills) and the undeniable tension of -I guess- desire eerily lingering through every scene, I just couldn't seem to actually enjoy it. Every quick flirting gaze from them was met with a stoic frown from me. Admittedly it already had quite an upheaval to overcome: my default *rolling eyes* for romantic movies (it's me, not you).

Take a deep breath

I think the main thing that 'irked' me about CMBYN is the lesser debated but-still-as-significant-as the peach scene, the sniffing trunks scene. I've mentally filled that scene as one of the most uncomfortable things I've ever watched. Which, indeed, illustrates I haven't seen much yet as well as my inability to fathom how crotch sniffing could install deep emotions that apparently thickens the plot for love and communicates this longing and beginning of romance to the audience. My mind just goes to farts. Sniffing all the farts. *takes a deep breath*

As illustrated by this scene, I think the film focusses more on physical attraction instead of investing in emotional bonding, while it tries to convince you it's an emotional rollercoaster; making fart sniffing substitute actual togetherness. And although the by-now famous speech by Chalamet's on-screen dad (played by Michael Stuhlbarg) made me tear-up, it didn't reflect the relationship I just witnessed. I'd say their togetherness was much more based on physicality instead of soulmating and is rather an exhibition of attraction than of connection. I mean, do they ever really have a proper conversation with one another? But perhaps that's just me not picking up on that what's said in between the dialogue (or, let's be honest, the lavish staring, dramatic sighing and frustrated pouting).

But-two-lovers

However I want to love CMBYN, if only to guilt-free enjoy compilations of funny press junket moments on Youtube. TURMOIL! I started doubting my inner film critic and decided to put my senses to the test: why not watch the complete opposite of CMBYN? Then, as if a sign of a higher almighty, the Avengers: Infinity War trailer popped up. "Perfect!", I exclaimed. From small, intimate, but-two-lovers to big, brash, more-than-you-can-count-on-two-hands galaxy-destroyers *ahum* I mean, galaxy-good-doers. I failed at this point, as I was too busy admiring my own resourcefulness, to foresee the implications that comes with this decision. I soon discovered that it's called the Marvel Cinematic Universe for a reason...

As I was scanning the endless list of Marvel movies, I promised myself to watch as many as possible and read up on the rest so I at least could recognise the actor/character gracing the big screen and had a faint idea about his/her/its arc. I've eventually managed to squeeze in six Marvel Movies into my busy schedule out of the ridiculous EIGHTEEN leading up to Infinity War. And it was a good thing I did, because when the movie begins it begins. No time for hinting, reminding, explaining or subtlety. This is a movie for those who know and for those who are charmed by the fantastical fanfare of screaming-on-top-of-your-lungs Americanism that runs like stars-and-stripes through every dialogue (or, let's be honest, action sequence).

Cold, cold heart

So there I went to our local cinema, accompanied by my sister, a daughter/father duo, a lone wolf and a group of what must be the most annoying twelve year old girls I've ever come across ever. I know to them I must seem like an ancient relic and I know I'm a bit old-fashioned when it comes to 'how to behave in public space', but the behaviour put on display before, during and after the movie by these youngsters just violently made long grey hair pop out of my skull while my eyes twitched and my finger, shakingly, pointed towards them huffing and puffing underneath my breath "be damned you disrespecting, foul speaking, LOUD speaking, dumb giggling, climbing over one another, mobile phone users! I'm trying to watch a movie wherein basically every single one dies! How. dare. you. Honestly! Show some respect to the movie dead!"

Although, admittedly, these monsters stirred more in me than all those biting the dust on screen. Even when my personal fave, after a in-my-opinion too short cameo, was pulverised into nothingness, I simply shrugged. And in that exact moment I realised I'm not cold-hearted (as was my conclusion for my indifference towards CMBYN), I don't have a heart to begin with! At this point we're not questioning my inner film critic, but my inability to feel anything at all. While they're dead on screen, I'm dead on the inside. Please check my pulse. *takes a deep breath*


CMBYN and Avengers: Infinity War are probaby indeed the complete opposite of one another; although, if you must believe Tumblr, there's much more going on underneath the initial heteronormative reading of the Marvel bunch. And perhaps they aren't really comparable without a hybrid version to mediate, the Malcolm in the middle if you like, to really see how the sensibility and finesse of the one can be appreciated in contrast/combination of the flashing lights of the other. Because it's undeniably an art to stage and capture disruption through stillness and action in such elaborate ways both movies respectively have done. And who knows, maybe it can revive this ol' corpse from a pile of moldy peaches and the ash of former heroes. *anxiously checks pulls again*  

Have you seen CMBYN and/or Avengers: Infinity War? Do you have any recommendations for a Malcolm in the middle film that you think mediates 'best of both worlds'? (Or a movie you've recently enjoyed watching?).