{ Wendell Berry: The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer. }

The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer
by Wendell Berry

I am done with apologies. If contrariness is my
inheritance and destiny, so be it. If it is my mission
to go in at exits and come out at entrances, so be it.
I have planted by the stars in defiance of the experts,
and tilled somewhat by incantation and by singing,
and reaped, as I knew, by luck and Heaven’s favor,
in spite of the best advice. If I have been caught
so often laughing at funerals, that was because
I knew the dead were already slipping away,
preparing a comeback, and can I help it?
And if at weddings I have gritted and gnashed
my teeth, it was because I knew where the bridegroom
had sunk his manhood, and knew it would not
be resurrected by a piece of cake. “Dance,” they told me,
and I stood still, and while they stood
quiet in line at the gate of the Kingdom, I danced.
“Pray,” they said, and I laughed, covering myself
in the earth’s brightnesses, and then stole off gray
into the midst of a revel, and prayed like an orphan.
When they said, “I know that my Redeemer liveth,”
I told them “He’s dead.” And when they told me
“God is dead,” I answered “He goes fishing every day
in the Kentucky River. I see Him often.”
When they asked me would I like to contribute
I said no, and when they had collected
more than they needed, I gave them as much as I had.
When they asked me to join them I wouldn’t
and then went off by myself and did more
than they would have asked. “Well, then,” they said
“go and organize the International Brotherhood
of Contraries,” and I said, “Did you finish killing
everybody who was against peace?” So be it.
Going against men, I have heard at times a deep harmony
thrumming in the mixture, and when they ask me what
I say I don’t know. It is not the only or the easiest
way to come to the truth. It is one way.

{ "If Adam wants to bake us a pie, it's our job to support him." }

In the last half hour or so I called a cousin I very rarely speak to, and fb messaged another person I very rarely speak to, AND I bought a train ticket to Bournemouth for Saturday, and whatever, I am a total flake: my anxiety is really, really high. I had forgotten that's it's basically a switch. I don't neeeeeed thiiiiiis. Guys, I am the lamest person you know.

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This weekend I watched three oddball comedies (many thanks, twincy - I had to think really hard what your username was for a minute there because I think I've called you everything but 'twince' this weekend) and loved them all. (I also now have Valhalla Rising but I have to sleep tonight, so that's going to have to wait.) I am now going to talk about them using pictures because I am actually too lazy to talk about them properly, and also because I am incapable of doing so either which way.

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Adams Æbler

This is a Danish film about a priest (Mads Mikkelsen) and the Neo Nazi convict who has to serve community service at his church. It is hilarious and made me cry a lot. It's a not-so-subtle retelling of the Book of Job - referenced x 1000 in the film itself - and features many lolarities such as an argument over the size of biscuits, a cursed apple tree, and a quest to bake an apple pie. I am making light of this because it's a light film, but it's also quite quirky, and I am never ever going to be able to do justice to how wonderful I found this film. It's just lovely, and also broke my heart many, many times. Oh gosh.

The Novice (Crossroads)

This is an American film, about a guy (Jacob Pitts) who is wavering about his commitment to becoming a priest in the Jesuit order. He gets sent to help at a church-run kitchen where he falls in love with a girl (Amy Acker, who is her usual brand of adorable) there who is trying to escape her small-town existence by joining the peace corps. The things about this guy is that although he feels his conviction is wandering, it's clear to a lot of other people that he has a talent for great kindness. What got me about this film was that it was clear (to me) that he was going to go back to Seminary and that though he felt something for Jill/Gill/whatever her name was, I don't even know his, he wasn't even trying that hard to dabble. The ending is very open, but the film is a kindly fare, and I enjoyed the quiet of it. Plus, Jacob Pitts' drawl is something else entirely.

The Baker

This is a British film, not about a priest, but about a hitman (Damian Lewis) who gives up the life to run away to Wales and be a baker. This film is honestly both amazing and fucking insane. He's being chased by another hitman (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) who is in love with him and likes pickled eggs. Lewis' character ends up being really, obscenely into this baking malarkey, but the village folk realise he's a hitman (um, sort of) and try to recruit him into killing off their not-so-loved ones. The film ends with a fight scene involving honest-to-god rapiers. I mean, fuck me, it is actually perfection.

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Tomorrow I begin my Great Commuter Adventure. To be honest, this too is a box of Do Not Want but it may turn out to be both easier and cheaper, so I'm going to suck it up for now. I am a little bummed that it means I won't be doing my walk to and from the station any more because although that road is fucking ugly, the exercise was worth it. I don't know; I am mostly tired of this stupidly long trek right now. Last week was not good, not even a little bit.

The plus side is that I may be taking Wednesday off because my ex-housie, T, may be coming down to visit. Still got to get in to Cambridge, but at least I won't be stuck in my cubicle.

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As a bonus, here: have more Tristan.