About Cowboy Bebop, Old People Music, and Weathered Winds

I’m writing this blog entry on the 31st July which means we’re more than halfway through the year and in honesty, it’s pretty cuckoo bananas. It's much colder now, but it hasn't phased me as much as it once had. As things grow old, a few new things have entered my life in exchange: Cowboy Bebop (because of a childhood MLP animation), the habit of trying to turn over stones, and truly trying to take everything one day at a time.

It’s kind of daunting—when I’m forced to think about it—how little time I have before mock exams, and it’s like hey! Slow down! I have like seven things to revise all at once, some with 2-3 papers of completely different topics! But then I remember that whatever happens, happens, and I’m just going to do my best. 

I try not to think about the pressure of my own expectations, or the fact that I am not the most polished student you’ll ever cross, but I have enough skills at winging things and doing the best I can with what I have, so I try to not to approach my academics with the thought of “I need to be perfect!” because then that's an empty purpose—and I’ll quickly burnout. Even then, more often than not, I’ll step back and see a gaping, absolutely hair-raising, existential void whenever I voyeur over my own aching, sleep deprived, bloated, cramped, and sedentary body and look at the workload hounding on my back. Because, Jesus, I’m dropping a good portion of these subjects by next year (biology, chemistry, algebra, and history—I’m still picking a fight with geography right now for my subject selection), so what’s the point? 

Of course, I want the satisfaction of relishing in the fruits of my labour because of how high I’ve chalked my personal expectations, but the point remains brighter than ever. And yet, I want to do my best simply because it feels good, and because I want to. I’d rather do my best, and retain the mindset that I don’t have to be insanely smart or anything because that’s just boring; I want time to prioritise myself, my hobbies, and whatever. At least I’ll be able to grant myself that satisfaction in the future, because learning to trust myself and not pay it much mind is a tricky but necessary lesson to learn. 

A very awesome photo I took early June, or something?

I haven’t been writing lately. Aside from the creative writing internal, I’ve simply not touched any WIPs, my notes app, or come up with any new funky phrases. I acknowledge, now, that I’m simply far busier than I have ever been—I just haven’t noticed, because I’ve always regarded my grades with immense importance. I’ve let go of trying to rattle the poet out of me, because I need to prioritise living, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted ever since I resorted to placing pen to paper in 2022 when I genuinely didn’t know and couldn’t live. 

Now that Cowboy Bebop has entered my life because of MLP, “old people music” has also entered my life once again and making a comeback from year 8 because that anime reminds me too much of The Beatles, and other existential song there is from the 60s-80s.

More specifically, I find myself having Mr Tambourine Man (Live at the Newport Folk Festival. 1964) by Bob Dylan on YouTube on repeat because when I listen to it, it makes me think that everything is going to be okay.  The following verse (being so impactful for little me that I stuck it to my wall with other handwritten pages of other lyrics that I found profound) listed is perhaps the one that has stuck to my side the most in the past years: 

“And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind / Down the foggy ruins of time / Far past the frozen leaves / The haunted frightened trees / Out to the windy beach / Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow / Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky / With one hand waving free / Silhouetted by the sea / Circled by the circus sands / With all memory and fate / Driven deep beneath the waves / Let me forget about today until tomorrow”

There’s a lot of things that don’t make sense to me even to this day, but I won’t be surprised if I do some sort of 10 page analysis with my personal anecdotes and poetic musings embedded into it, because Bob Dylan is the reason why I believed I was an ISFP when I’m the most Ti-dominant loser you’ve ever witnessed and he’s perhaps a cornerstone to the development of my writing. Questions like, why a tambourine? Why are you asking a percussionist to play a song for you? The lyrics sound beautiful and far away but what the hell does it all mean? And it’s these questions that make it all the more better, because regardless of its seeming disjointed narrative, after all these years of attaching this song to the side of my waist and letting it rest in the in-betweens of my ribs, this song is a narrative about longing, looking to the past, youth, sorrow, and all the fun stuff I think about when I’m away from school, and the sky is wide, and the world is ahead of me and I’m not demarcated by schedules, by 5 class periods, by my grades, by what my teachers think about me, by how many extracurriculars are marked in my report. It’s a song that—to its very core—transports me without even physically hopping in a getaway vehicle and out to the countryside, where the shattered lights of the city aren't in the distance, and there’s hardly any streaks of cars or really fucking loud and arrogant  motorbikes. 

When I look back, it’s a song amongst the other 60s music cornerstones (Nowhere Man and In My Life by The Beatles) that has always provided comfort—especially during the liminality of navigating the parting of childhood into stupid early teenage hood in which I was trying to find my people, and most importantly, myself. Woven in the trills of the harmonica, the stomach-aching guitar, the unique sound of Dylan’s voice, there’s an aged breeze that has probably travelled across the world and has returned to me that I have not felt for a very long time to tell me: Look how far you’ve come! Which is awesome, and it’s wonderful to be reminded how I used to feel—because folded and folded and folded and folded in the bottommost fibres of my coat pockets are my old issues, pains, and realisations that although seem very, very stupid and small in the grand scheme of things, I manage to find sympathy somewhere in me for younger me because yes, these issues were small, but so was I. 

Healing takes a very long time, and maybe it’s lifelong, but things are becoming a little lighter nowadays. 

Spiderman: Across the Spider-verse review

CW/ Spoilers for Spiderman: Across the Spider-verse 

A still from Across the Spider-verse (2023)

Spiderman: Across the Spider-verse is a stunning animation movie produced by Sony Animations, telling the narrative of Miles Morales through strong creative choices in the story it targets to tell. Taking on the concepts installed by its predecessor, Into the Spider-verse, Across the Spider-verse is the sequel sandwiched in a promising trilogy with its guaranteed successor, Beyond the Spider-verse. And yet, it does not sell itself short as a “half of a film” at all, but rather takes immense pride for everything that it is; relishing in all of the elements that Into the Spider-verse has asserted itself to be. The amalgamation of excellent teamwork of more imaginative and distinct spider-entity designs, soundtracking, and animation collectively portray a fascinating interpretation of the spiderman franchise that generations have grown fond of over the years. This sequel takes every bone laid out by Into the Spider-verse and expertly continues to flood in its creativity and storytelling. And after watching Across the Spider-verse, I take undoubtful confidence in responding to this confident film that it was phenomenal and does not sell short as a hand-me-down sequel. 

For estranged creatives similar to me who have been swept into an industrial interpretation of life or have lost that tight grip in creating over time, Across the Spider-verse is like a whiplash when you witness the fruits of artisans who have decided to take their passions into their career and produce such stylised films like this. And it shows, as the movie is lapped with nuances that only visuals and auditory designs can portray; nuances that would simply fall flat through the delivery of dialogue. Within the junction of these creative mediums that enhances this movie, the audience is stationed into this promising experience from the beginning sequence bursted with captivating distorted credits and an evocative monologue provided by Gwen through a drum solo. This introduction solidifies the themes and motifs that we’ll witness to flourish in the following 2 hours and 16 minutes. 

The character development and the characters the movie decides to develop is strong and evident in its thorough research. As the shift of emphasis on Gwen’s character in this movie was wonderful, other previously introduced characters in the previous movie consequently fall in the background—but with good reason, as other strong spider-entities do not constitute for their absence, but rather further expands the possibilities of spider-verse, not just for the sake of clustering new characters. Gwen’s emphasis rises as she stands firmly beside Miles, as we gain a broader understanding of her identity as the story relishes in the dimensions of her universe through a gorgeous, evocative watercolour style harbouring inspiration by the scene in Cinderella (1950) in which the evil step sisters shred Cinderella’s dress apart. Other instalments of new characters that expand the spider-verse by Into the Spider-verse include Spider-punk / Hobie Brown, who thrashes into the narrative through his bold zine-like appearance, an electric guitar, and punk-rock inspirations, or the bright Indian Spider-man, Pavitr Prabhakar who brings a charming and brilliant cultural twist on spider-man as he introduces us to “Mumbattan”, a portmanteau of Mumbai and Manhattan. The antagonist of the franchise is also introduced, Miguel O’Hara, and in honesty, he was insane. The movie does not shy away from the authoritative position of his character, and for what his role and character is meant to represent and with the story it wants to tell, he fills those shoes exceptionally well. Additionally, the overarching villain, "The Spot" is cuckoo bananas and his character design succeeded in evoking disturbed and unnerving emotions within me despite his goofiness in the initial parts of the movie.

This franchise, to its very heart, is a narrative about breaking boundaries. Not only in the phenomenal people who push the boundaries of their disciplines to create a unique experience, but this theme underlines the entire narrative itself. We can observe this in the “canon events” which are introduced to us by Miguel O’Hara. It is these cornerstone events and experiences that create this predestined framework one must follow in exchange in fulfilling the role of becoming an entity of spiderman. And yet, despite the myriad of spider-entities we witness, there are elements that make them unique and implement their own indirect statements towards the overarching narrative of the identity of spiderman, and what certain elements amount to a canonical spider-entity deserving of that title. Evidently, this is portrayed through the primary conflict between the antagonist Miguel O’Hara, the hierophant of the orthodox spider-narrative, and the divergent nature of Miles Morales’ character. We can identify how they serve as each other’s foil through observation of the character and animation designs of both the characters, with Miguel’s brawny and established presence in juxtaposition to Mile's agility and flexibility. This plot serves as an analogy for the wider world, as reflected in the universal dilemma of “not belonging” in the face of the “status quo.” The film takes society's collectively fixed mindset in its hands and shatters it against the sidewalk—whether it be as a general statement for a challenge that everyone must face at some point, or whether it be a comment on how people should loosen up when it comes to renditions. 

(A very gushy, quick note, as well: The handlement of the metaphysical is not in any way tacky in contrast to previous superhero films such as Multiverse of Madness, which I have not watched, but I’m not an all round movie-goer and I just know it’s bad.)

With that said, there are enough stunning aspects of this movie that everyone from any demographic can grasp on to experience and enjoy it in their individual ways. Whether this experience can be obtained through the narrative itself, the visuals, the soundtracking, the character designs, etc, it’s without doubt that many hearts, passion, dedication, and efforts have been placed into the creation of this movie and that there is something in it for everyone, even if you aren’t a spider-man or superhero movie enjoyer. I say this as a person who has never been enrapt in superhero movies in general, and yet, I was breath taken by every single action scene in this movie as it was dynamic and not just brawn or primitive. 

To be in the middle of the revolution of animation is quite magical. We can see the impact its predecessor has on other animation films in the horizon, such as the already released “Puss and Boots: The Last Wish” or “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” who relish in their respective stylised styles. I should probably slip “Arcane” here, considering the amount of positive reviews and comments I’ve heard about it. It’s incredibly gratifying to witness how this Spiderman trilogy revolutionised animations. 

As it was said, and forever must be, the Spider-verse as a whole is the official face and demonstration of the possibilities that animation as a genre can reach. The narrative itself embodies the rejection of the status quo, as Miles Morales, a pronounced “anomaly” undergoes the process of being aware of his worth of spiderman regardless of the daggering enforcement of the framework of becoming spiderman. It is definitely worth the experience for at least one time in your life—because as we follow Mile’s story through an adventure of the insane lengths that animation can reach, it can honestly make you believe that everything is possible. 

SONYA: What can we do? We must live out our lives. [A pause] Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya.

I haven’t written a blog post here in a while. It’s kind of strange. I changed — that’s to be expected. The same old: Everything goes through thousands of folds of death and birth and death and birth. It’s new then old then new then old. Some new things happened. I made a lot of stupid decisions, and I don’t think I can scrub myself clean off it, but I trust time will do it’s slow rinsing. For the meantime, I’ll dip my hands in the river. I know there are some consequences and a million regrets weighing my body right now. I think April pushed my life downhill, and this is the first term holiday I’m carrying my own weight. 

I don’t want to be like who I was back then. It feels strange slipping back into this way of life when I had experienced a different way. But then again. Then again, I’m sure a lot of those people who I came across during that different way don’t really remember me much, and even if they did, well, I suppose my stupid actions bear consequences. I just never anticipated how onerous those consequences will grow into the size of a baby on my back. 

But it’s hard — carrying these regrets. It’s a part of life. Just that: a part, like a limb, like a lung, like a heart. It’s necessary, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t hard to carry. At least it’s not unnecessary, like the coccyx (ergo: the tailbone). Anyway, I’m learning a lot right now. Words don’t mend everything, but it’s a start. I still feel like a massive mess inside, and everything that happened still disgusts me and I’m forced to contend the question: How can you even live with yourself? everyday. But I have to. I need to. 

Of course, silly scenarios like, shit, what if this comes back to me in the future? What if my past comes back to bite my back? What-if’s cluster my already cluttered mind and I don’t know where to put down all of this weight. I’m not sure what to do. I’ve already seeked God. But, I must live. What else can I do? People like me have probably done worse things. Teenagers do terrible things, embarrassing things, regretful things. That’s simply within my nature. I don’t mean to dismiss anything I’ve done with futile and frail excuses, but it’s a little reminder, I suppose. I suppose. I suppose. 

Anyway, I’m watching the kdrama twenty five twenty one right now, and it’s such a lovely series. The age gap got me raising my brow my miles, because it reminded me of something in the past. But, it was pure and it was messy in all of the right ways. Maybe I should write about it if I have time. 

I’m trying to cling onto myself now. I’m trying to cling on.