I've now watched all or parts of Tsai Ming-Liang's What Time is It There? on three consecutive days. In a film composed of so many stunning images, the one that I just can't shake is a simple close-up of Hsiao Kang waking in tears. I've lived that scene so many times most recently on Saturday night. I seem to have dreams like this every eight to ten weeks. I'm sure that a psychologist would explain them away as a natural (and, hopefully, healthy) coping mechanism, a means by which my psyche purges so much pent up emotion. Sounds about right.
This particular dream which, from what I can recall, was tangentially related (in that wonderful dream logic way) to the production of Angels in America that we saw in Phoenix came at a good time. I typed up, then deleted, a litany of current events that have left me emotionally exhausted in recent days, but the list seemed trite, at least when compared to the very real daily struggles facing so many in my life. But still, the question of how to remain engaged in the world emotionally, intellectually, spiritually, politically while retaining perspective and balance lingers there in front of me.
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