Connecting "2001" With Its "2010" Sequel

Last year, I shared someone's post on Facebook featuring a segment from an interview conducted with Stanley Kubrick in 1980, but not released until after his death, in which Kubrick explained his intended meaning of the confounding scene at the end of "2001: A Space Odyssey":

The idea was supposed to be that he is taken in by godlike entities, creatures of pure energy and intelligence with no shape or form. They put him in what I suppose you could describe as a human zoo to study him, and his whole life passes from that point on in that room. And he has no sense of time. ... [W]hen they get finished with him, as happens in so many myths of all cultures in the world, he is transformed into some kind of super being and sent back to Earth, transformed and made some kind of superman. We have to only guess what happens when he goes back. It is the pattern of a great deal of mythology, and that is what we were trying to suggest.

Most artists, including movie directors, seem to want not to disclose their intended meaning of a work, but I'm such an irremediably literal-minded person who struggles and usually fails to arrive at any coherent interpretation of artistic or literary metaphors that I'm grateful to have stumbled onto Kubrick's explanation. More or less.

For there's just one problem. How does Kubrick's explanation logically connect with the movie's sequel "2010: The Year We Make Contact"? In "2010," astronauts journey to the site near Jupiter where astronaut Dave Bowman disappeared in "2001" to find out what happened to him and more about the godlike aliens implicated in his disappearance. But the problem is that Kubrick's explanation of the concluding scene in "2001" suggests that Bowman returned to Earth years before as a fetal cosmic superbeing poised to effect some kind of massive transformation of the Earth and/or its human inhabitants. Yet, "2010" exhibits no evidence of said transformation nor any mention of Bowman's prior return. 

Well, I suppose one could theorize that when Bowman returned at the end of 2001 as a "Starchild," his celestial presence was unobserved by and, hence, unknown to people on Earth, and so was his carrying out his purpose. Perhaps he was sent merely to observe or monitor Earth activities, or perhaps to effect imperceptibly subtle but important changes facilitating the aliens' later plans which actualize in "2010."

So, if I look at it that way, I guess there's no real "problem" after all. The two movies can be readily reconciled, and all is well. They say writing about something can help you arrive at understandings you might not have had as soon or ever if you hadn't written about what you were trying to figure out. This little blogging exercise is proof positive of that.

Mom's Stroke and the Likely Challenges to Come

My mother fell and broke her hip recently at home. I had to persuade her over the phone to call her stepdaughter Karen to come check on her. Karen came and, with the help of the local fire department, got her in the car and drove her to the hospital where it was promptly determined that she had, indeed, fractured her hip.

Soon after that, she had hip replacement surgery, and then, soon after that, she had a stroke. It was her second over the past several months, and it seemed to have a similar effect as her previous one, affecting chiefly the left side of her body, mostly above the waist. But whereas the previous stroke was mild enough that she was able to largely regain most of the functions she initially lost, it seems that the effects of this one may be permanent. She seems to have largely lost the ability to use her left hand, and that may not change. This and other physical deficits resulting from her strokes may not allow her to continue living at home even semi-independently. And this, of course, raises momentous questions about her long-term residence and care that she, Karen, and I are now contemplating.

I think major changes lie ahead not only for Mom but also for me. So I'd best prepare myself for them to the fullest extent possible so I can be the best son, husband, and all-around person I can be throughout the likely challenges to come.

2001 and 2010: A Movie Comparison

Someone recently shared an article in the Facebook group 2001--A Space Odyssey arguing that the movie's sequel 2010: The Year We Make Contact deserves as much praise as its legendary predecessor. Most commenters disagreed, often with unbridled contempt. Yet, some agreed with the article. And some even went so far as to assert that 2010 was the much better movie.

As someone who loves both movies but reveres 2001, I commented:

“Like many who’ve commented here, I don’t agree that 2010 deserves “as much” praise as 2001. However, I do agree with the OP that it’s been woefully under-appreciated by movie critics and the general public alike.

I think 2010 is a wonderful film with a plausibly epic and intelligent storyline, excellent performances from an outstanding cast, stunning sequences, superb special effects that serve the story, and overall quality that distinguish it as one of the finest sci-fi films ever and make it a thrilling and extremely satisfying sequel to the unparalleled, sublime, and utterly miraculous original.

And I agree with at least one commenter who said that if 2010 weren’t eclipsed by the awesomely artistic splendor of 2001, it might well have received the accolades and enjoyed the popularity it richly deserves in its own splendid right.”

2010 is one of my favorite sci-fi films of all time. But as Dan Quayle was "no Jack Kennedy," 2010 was no 2001. Nevertheless, regardless of how one regards Dan Quayle as a senator, I think 2010 stands as a great sci-fi film, and I wish movie critics and the general public agreed.

Blogging Again

I haven't blogged in over a year. I think it's time I resume. Writing is probably what I do best, yet, I haven't been doing it. Not here. Not like this.

I think I know why. I think I concluded sometime back that I have nothing worthwhile to say. So, if nobody, including me, wants to read my hollow words, why bother writing them?

Yet, what else am I going to do that engages me more? I haven't been habitually bored doing what I've been doing. I've been reading content online and on my Kindle. I've been posting on Facebook and reading and commenting on other people's posts. I've been watching entertaining programs on TV in the evening. I've been listening to great podcasts and to my beloved Hiromi and other musicians online at home and on my walks, and on CD when I drive. Even so, something's been missing.

I haven't been writing content that forces me to reflect as deeply, sustain my focus as strongly, and express myself as fully as I can. My inner light may be dim, but I think I still want to let what there is of it shine. I've been proverbially hiding it under a bushel for too long.

No, I'm not a smart guy with brilliant things to say that people probably want to read. But I am a guy who still desires to do what he does best instead of stewing in the chronic dissatisfaction of settling for less. And I'm someone who wants to get better at what he does best by making it clearer, more concise, more veridical, and more pleasing to himself and to any reader who may come along.

So, it's time to get and stay with it. Maybe I won't do all my effortful writing here. But I need to do it somewhere and keep doing it. And, for the time being, this is probably as good a place as any and better than most.

Gone to His Eternal Sleep

I just had my cat put down at the vet's. His name was Jaidee, and he was the sweetest cat anyone could ever have. I had him almost fifteen years before he developed intestinal cancer, much like my Tao-Tao did a few years ago, and we knew he wouldn't be around long after his diagnosis. Prednisolone kept him going for a couple of months, and I was hoping he could hang on till my wife returned from Thailand in three days so she could see him one last time and say a proper goodbye.

But Jaidee suddenly seemed to have trouble passing stool yesterday and began looking very uncomfortable, so I took him to the vet today virtually certain it would be a one-way trip for him. I was right.

Perhaps it's better that my wife wasn't here to deal with that. But now I'm home alone and very, very sad. For as much as I've loved the cats who have blessed my life and would dearly love, even now, to adopt another, it doesn't seem financially feasible at my age and under my circumstances. Not if I want to be here long enough and financially able to provide another cat with the lasting love and every kind of care it might need for the rest of its precious life.

I want to share my pain with others. But the truth is, no one cares or can care as much as I do. Even if they've had and lost cats, their cats weren't my cat, and they weren't me. And, when you come right down to it, I wouldn't even want anyone to feel as bad as I do right now. Or I would and I wouldn't.

I won't keep on about this. Jaidee has gone to his eternal sleep, and I may not be terribly far behind. Not from "unnatural" causes but from pathologically natural ones.

All I can say is that I don't believe in a heavenly afterlife, but if there is one, I'd want the cats I've loved over the past thirty-five years to be part of it, and especially my sweet Jaidee. There'll never be another like him.

A Melancholic Birthday

Another birthday came and went yesterday. In some ways, the year preceding it was a typical year for me. I won’t dwell on that. But some noteworthy things, at least to me, occurred.

My wife and I caught Covid on separate occasions after being fully vaccinated and boosted, and it was no worse than a standard cold for either of us, except that I had an unusual sore throat for a couple or so days.

I saw a local 15-year-old bowling prodigy named Saphyre compete in the U.S. Women’s Open in Rohnert Park last August and stun and thrill me by beating some of the best female bowlers on the planet, including my beloved New Hui Fen, on one of the oil patterns. Later, she took Jillian Martin, probably the most heralded female junior bowling phenom ever, to the wire in two Storm Youth Championship tournaments and convinced me that she’s a young sorceress with her amusingly nonchalant bowling style, deadly powerful release, and deceptively wizardlike lane play skills. Watching and rooting for her has been one of my biggest recent if not lifetime surprises and pleasures.

Speaking of bowling, I shot a 300 in league a few months ago, and a 290 and 278 more recently, but I’ve struggled to carry consistently and score well on the new lanes and oil, which is all the more frustrating when I see so many others in my league tearing them up. But I attribute some of this struggle to my unwillingness to put in the time and effort to get and do better. Isn’t that a central element in the story of my life? And can I change that? Will I change that? Not only in bowling but in every other important respect?

My mom seems to be doing well as she approaches 85, but I’m not sure how forthcoming she’s been about her health and well-being. One concern I have is that one of her step-daughters who lives nearby and has been so helpful to her may be moving away before long, and I will need to take up the slack that I may be ill-equipped to do.

My wife is still with me but I don’t know for how long as her parents back home get older and older and become more dependent on her overworked younger sister. When she finally does leave, my life may change drastically.

Finally, arguably the most important event of the year since my previous birthday and unquestionably one of the most important of my entire life occurred less than two weeks before my newest birthday. My best friend of over fifty years, Craig, was found dead in his car with a gunshot wound to the head miles away from his residence in Southern California. The police and medical examiner have ruled it a suicide, but I and everyone I know who knew him just can’t believe he killed himself. There were no signs whatsoever, even in retrospect, that pointed to suicidal ideation or tendencies, and there’s no apparent reason why he would have done such a thing and many reasons why he wouldn’t have done that to himself at this point in his life when he had so many things he enjoyed doing and so many achievable plans for his retirement. Yet, it looks like his family has accepted the ruling and that he will be cremated and buried soon.

I’ve been shy and reclusive all my life and have had no other friends for as long as I did Craig or shared as much with any other male friends over the decades as I did with Craig. I got drunk for the first time with him. I saw my first Bruce Lee movie and countless other movies thereafter with him. I went to my first Mahavishnu Orchestra concert and many concerts later on with him. We bowled together. Played basketball together. Spent countless hours in each other’s company or on the phone talking about this and that.

Even as our interests diverged over the past few years and we had far less contact than we used to, it was reassuring to know he was out there and was someone I could turn to if I ever needed him, and I hope and think he felt the same about me.

His sudden and mystifying departure has left a hole in my life. I will miss not only our phone conversations, occasional visits, Facebook messagings, and so much else, but I will miss the warm reassurance that the potential for sharing a reminiscence or other simple pleasures of our abiding friendship exists even when it resides in the background. For now it exists no longer.

Craig told me that after his parents died years ago, he became acquainted with a psychic who could communicate with his parents and enable him to communicate with them through her. I’m very skeptical of this but not completely convinced it wasn’t true; he told me some amazing things about what he learned from that communication that gave me pause. And so I wish that if my friend does consciously survive in a different or alternate realm in which he retains awareness of what’s going on here and an emotional connection with family and friends still inhabiting this plane of existence, he will find a way to reach out to that psychic so that she can reach out to me and tell me what really happened to him and why, and so that I’ll really know there’s life beyond death.

And now I look toward another year with plans and goals to fulfill, new friendships to forge and old ones to strengthen, new challenges to face, and all without the reassuring constant in my life that was Craig.

RIP, Old Friend

I learned last night that my best friend of over fifty years died of undisclosed causes sometime Saturday night or Sunday and his body was found in another county than where he lived. The details are very murky so far, but I’m hoping to learn more over time.

He had retired very recently and was looking forward to traveling the world to see new sights, meet new people, play poker, at which he was quite proficient, and live the good life he had worked so long and so hard to be able to enjoy and surely would have.

He and I had so many fun times together going all the way back to the late 60’s. We met in a junior bowling league, played basketball, got drunk for the first time, attended many great Bay Area concerts, saw scores of movies, especially of the martial arts variety, and hung out a lot. Over the years, our interests and activities increasingly diverged and we’d had very little contact recently, but we were still and would have always been there for each other if needed.

I don’t know yet what happened to him and am still getting over the shock of his sudden and very unexpected death, but I’ll miss him.

Rest In Peace, old friend.