Gearing up for the film festival

Today I watched Memorias del saqueo directed by Solanas, all about the politics of systematic dismantling of the Argentine economy by Alfonsín then Menem and their respective cronies. Bola de hijos de puta. I guess I knew, on some level, having lived there in the Menem years, just how corrupt the goverment was, corrupt in that way that everyone jokes about las manos en la lata, but the laughter is tinged with rage or resignation. But, and of course this is the same Solanas that made La noche de los hornos and who wrote the Third Cinema Manifesto, the blatant and unapologetic impunity, the heartless disregard for human life, well... it is hard to watch that and not be outraged. God damn IMF, God Damn Yankee, French and Spanish bastards, gouging the public, laundering narco-traffic dollars, and children die of mal-nutrition. Agh. I know it was meant to make me (one) feel that way, and it did, and I couldn't help but feel a little guilty for being so oblivious, or so unable to penetrate beneath the surface when I lived there. Of course, I do remember being perplexed by the political rallies that offered choripan and vino, luring the hungry in, feeding their kids with red meat for the night, only to ultrajar su voto y traicionarlos.

Perdón, I'm having language problems today, not sure why. My class notes are a royal mess, I take notes in three languages or a mixture thereof and I can't seem to articulate real complete thoughts, but I have had a few complaints about my lack of written production of late ;) so I am trying.

So yes. Films. The film festival began today. I am not nearly important, or pretentious enough to go to any opening night events, instead I took I. and Peregrine to the supermarket where the proceeded to drive me a little batty as one clung to the far end of the cart and the other stood on the near end between my arms and pushed and pulled, braking with their feet every few meters. We managed to obtain dinner, snacks for I.'s school (which had become depleted) lacteos and the likes... I bought esparragos and artichokes (the only green vegetable that I. will eat in a non-soup form), one bag of mesclun (not mescaline, though I have seen this advertised at restaurants, now there would be a hot marketing tip, lexical error and all) which will undoubtedly last me the entire week, multi-colored bell peppers to make my life more colorfull, a box of clementines, and a cantaloupe. I think I must be subconsciously be missing beta-carotene in my diet. And after all that I cooked a spectacular dinner of mac n' cheese and chicken nuggets for I. and P. Sigh. Sometimes it is best not to push the status quo (do I really believe that? I guess I might just be tired of fighting).

Yes, films.

I am told that I don't absolutely have to watch difficult films, that I could just go and watch some mind candy. I suppose that is one option, but I don't think it suits me. First, I don't tend to enjoy frivolity, unless it is of my own generation (meaning, I make it myself, then I love it, but that is a different story), and second, I like to get more bang for my buck, so since I rarely indulge (never) in going to the cinema by myself, and there is rarely anything worth seeing at the cinema, I feel I need to take full advantage of the hard to watch films that I love and that I don't ever get to see on the big screen, but most of all, I am able to do intellectually challenging/ emotionally taxing things on my own, better than relaxing. I don't relax well, not at all, and especially not alone, I need someone else's hands to knead the knots from my shoulders and back before I can relax (which might explain my tension of late). So, as that isn't an option, delve right into the pain, I say. I am actually kind of excited to be alone in the world. Well, not totally alone, but almost, and for a few hours I can think about other people's pain, which should alleviate a little of my own.