Fargo

Contains spoilers.

Fargo is a generally funny tale, punctuated by at least six moments of pure, gruesome horror. Its comedic undertone is made in part by the quirkiness of the characters. I loved all of them, especially Jerry, the manager of sales, who handled himself so perfectly until things started going wrong. He was able to smooth talk out of things for a while but not to the point where just words would do.

Marge in this movie represents the intellectual. She was able to deduce the crime scene in a few minutes, while another officer was standing by, repeating "oh yeah, oh." He was useful though... for holding her coffee. She single-handedly solved the case, and as _ said, not in a Sherlock Homes way but in a realistic way. Her husband, though not as bright as she is, cares for her and is a good fit right there (a life that actually worked out). I guess he wouldn't be bright enough to cook up that kind of plot.

The repetition of a few lines such as "Oh yeah? No kidding." in the movie really drove home the dialogue of mid-westerners. Dialogue played a role in giving the film a genuine feel.

Marge had to lower her intellectual level to be able to extract information from witnesses. The directors weren't afraid to stereotype or to show the slow women in bed with the weird-looking guy and the emotionless guy.

The spontaneity of things just happening adds to the authenticity. I don't know about you, but it seemed to me the homicides occured between the shots of the Brainerd man statue. He appeared, then someone died, and he appeared, etc.

Every character must have been there for a reason. Then what about Max, the Asian guy? A plot device may be a reason, to lead Marge to Minnesota.

Kudos to the directors for the transitions. One memorable one was zooming into the busted TV at the murderers' den and using that to switch over to Marge's house. White was the dominant color (with all that snow), and transitions often faded to white. The movie starts and ends with the shots of cars, which were really the moving device--now that I come to think of it, so many shots were of cars, in cars or around cars.

John Liu

"Fired up and ready to go."

History.

Butterfly

Just now, as I was walking from the train station, there was a beautiful orange butterfly just standing there on the concrete ground. Odd, I thought. Was it injured?

I put my right hand on the ground in front of it. It climbed on.

It climbed on my hand to the top of my thumb as I walked home. I trekked slowly as to not pick up wind so that it would not fall off. It understood, raising its wings as the wind ran parallel through it. Then it lowered its wings to my hand to gain stability.

I felt the pricking sensation on my wrist feeling like dozens of needles as it explored the creature it was on.

A woman walking behind me must've thought I was weird. She was catching up, so I walked a little faster but still slowly. I crossed the street. She did too. I walked at a slower pace, looking down, keeping my right hand frozen out in front of me. I turned right onto another street, then took a glance back. (Well that's how I know she was a woman.)

I was at my doorstep, but I couldn't get the keys in my bag with a butterfly on one hand. I stood there. I stopped moving, and it started moving, climbing up my arm.

I let it go. I had to. What would I be doing with it? Keep it in a jar? No, it belongs to nature.

This is one of those moments I regret. Kind of. Well, it's that feeling. I flew and quickly blended into the darkness.

I opened my door, turned on the light, and looked back. I checked the porch and the stairs. Nope, not a sign. But the presence of it at all and the decision it took for me to turn left in order to encounter it may have been one in itself.

Dragonboat Day

Today. Woke up at 5:45. More like 5:50am. Knew I missed the train, snoozed, bought breakfast, and caught the bus. Then I missed the cheese bus
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I started writing this and forgot.

I'll skip that. It was a good day at the Hong Kong Dragonboat Festival in New York.
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That guy. There's a guy who stands by the corner of Roosevelt and Main by the news store who tells a story about his girlfriend locking him out. He's a fraud.

The first time I met him was on the second day of the dragonboat festival. After dinner with folks in Flushing, I was heading down Main St a little after 9 when a middle-aged white man, kind of young, in a tee and shorts came up to me and asked, "Hey, you speak English, right?" I stopped and replied with a nod and "yea." "Listen, ...." Then he launches into a story about his girlfriend locking him out of her house. He says he left all his stuff there, and he needs to get to his father's house in Stony Brook.

You know what. I felt bad for him. After a few exchanges, I gave him $10. Didn't have much more. He said something along the lines of, "I'll say a prayer to God for you." He knew about taking the LIRR to Woodside and then transferring, and he said he would return it (somehow) if I gave more and gave him my number. See, I thought he was legit.

I walked off to catch my train but passing by the ticket machines (actually, to check the price of a ticket to Stony Brook--$11.25), there was a CityTicket placed on the screen and stuck a little into the rubber frame. People usually leave those around because they are only good for that day. Plus, they cost $3.50 and there's a $2.50 service fee per ticket if you want to return it. Okay. Good. So I took it and walked two blocks back to him.

(He looked like he was about to run away. lol) I told (or insisted) him to come to the ticket machine to check the price of going from that station on the ticket to Stony Brook. Unfortunately, it would only save him a dollar or so. He thanked me and disappeared off into the darkness. I thought about it on the way home. I should have asked how he got to Flushing in the first place. I regretted not being able to give him more.

What, does he target teenagers or something? Four weeks later, while I was taking my sister to piano lessons, there he was again. With a cap. I stared at him, wondering if that was the guy who asked me. Apparently, I stared a little too long. I turned, waiting for the light, and he walked up to me. "Hey listen, my girlfriend dropped me off..." "No, you asked me before," I said tersely. "Ok," he replied. I didn't turn to see where he was going.

Well, so what do you think? Would you have given him $10? Would you have proceeded with your life or would you have lent him an ear? There are people like him who prey on the pity of others. Maybe it's more noble than just saying "I'm homeless" or begging on the street. At least he wasn't pickpocketing people.