I may not get time to do this otherwise.
Exit Millennium 2000. Entre Millennium 2001.
Purple is the prime ingredient of blonde. Let’s get some purple into 2001.
In 2001, I will remember not to put aside and forget matters; and that all activites have a cleanup phase. I will practice asceticism, meditation, and random acts of kindess. I will go for walks with friends; and look out for presents for them. I will take time to look after my health and time to write.
In 2001 I will read a book about Tasmania: Death of a River Guide, by Richard Flanagan. I will read biographies of Thomas Jefferson, Mohandas Gandhi, Pierre Trudeau, Paul Keating, and Bill Clinton; and a book on democracy by John Ralston Saul. I will read The Tempest, and short stories by Jorge Luis Borges.
I will keep a record of the books I read.
With that strong visual sense, the Narrator of Fight Club could have been David Fincher. With that literary flair, he could of been Chuck Palahniuk. He could have been so much more than a master of fratboys in teenage games.
I grew up with the Goodies, the Goons, Python, DAAS, etc. Cutup art school anarchy. British art school. This self-aware, self-deprecating, yet strong, forthright, intelligent, rude, fast, DIY… stuff. And most of all that mature sense of self-humour. (This schtick can be found mostly, declawed, in children’s cartoons today.)
The Sixth Sense is a superhero film.
My mind keeps going back to Cinema 1999. 2000 was, for me, a poor year in films. I can remember so few. In 2001, I will keep a record the films I watch.
Only the last things wait to be packed. Tomorrow I move. New internet connections await discovery.