Little by Little, my first day in Prague.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014. 14:00.
Hostel common room. Empty. Sunny outside.

Dear Aleksandra,
In keeping with the tradition introduced last summer, I will tell you of my adventures in diary-entry format.

My first day in Prague was not pleasant. Czech people are very reserved and have no apparent sense of humour... taking my cheekiness for rudeness. This type of cultural mistranslation I expected, but it was lame to experience all the same.

I checked into the hostel, took a shower and went out to see Eva's flat [ Eva being a person whom I had contacted the week before regarding the rent of a room ]. The flat was surprisingly close to downtown and not too difficult to find - though maps are impossible to follow in a city where there is not a single straight street to be found anywhere!

Eva was nice, but the flat not so much so. The room was old and dusty. There was no living/dining room and the kitchen was quite small. Still, I would have considered it for the convenience of its location and immediacy, except for that Eva was asking for 10,000 Ck deposit on top of the 7,600 monthly to move in. I told her I would think about it, because whipping out 17,600 CK would leave me with very little to live with until I can secure an income.

I took a lonely walk along the riverside worrying about money, rent and work. As I smoked my cigarette, I was haunted by feelings of regret, fear and existentialism.

When I got to the old town square I was starving so I bought myself a bratwurst from a stand. I tell you, Spanish food does not hold a candle to Czech food. Czech food is fucking delicious - the mere scent of it is mouth-watering. The lady there then tried to cheat me from my change. I knew that she would, because I had done my homework and learned that this is what they do to tourists regularly. When she saw me counting the coins suspiciously, she thought better of it and gave me the rest of my change (20 Ck.). Bitch.

Old Town square was full of titi bar peddlers, tour guide hustlers and pickpockets. I did not enjoy it because it felt like a field of tourist traps and, even though I do not consider myself a tourist, not speaking a word of Czech pretty much made me one.

I walked into a random bar for a pilsner beer. This was a local's pub where no one spoke any English. The most awkward transaction followed where I asked the lady behind the counter for a beer, she gave me a receipt for 42 Cz, I handed her a 200 Ck note and she gave me 358 Ck change. I tried to tell her that she gave me too much change - which was weird, since I was prepared to haggle over being short changed, not over changed. The woman said I had given her a 500 note, which still would not have made sense mathematically. I insisted in giving her the 200 note back but she only accepted the 100 one - presumably as a tip. So basically, I was paid 58 Ck to drink a beer at that bar. Sweet.

I returned to the hostel in low spirits, checked my emails, found no replies to my work applications or flat rentals. I then balanced my funds and decided to go for Eva's flat. Unfortunately, Eva replied saying that she had decided for another applicant with whom she had met the day before. Whatever.

Everything was coming to shit quite quickly, so I decided to do what I do best: meet, charm, learn and explore.

I started with the girl at the reception - because talking to girls is always fun. Her name was Hanna and she was incredibly cool and helpful. After confirming some of my views about Prague and providing me with additional resident's information, she directed me to a hole-in-the-wall pub round the corner where I would find English speakers, weed and a piano... My kinda place.

I found the pub after wondering round the streets for a little bit - god damn it is easy to get lost in a city with nothing but crooked streets! I met a friendly dude at the door - Marcus, from Serbia, who spoke good English and guided me inside the pub. He showed me the piano and then took me to the girl with the weed. I prized him with a pint of Pilsner which, at 35 Ck, was a give away. (US$ 1.62, or EU 1.2).

So we ended up outside the pub with a couple and a group of Germans, smoking weed and drinking pints... Right across from a Police Station! Gotta love Europe.

We went back inside and started jamming at one and then another of the three pianos available. They were all fucked one way or another, and barely playable. Anyhoo, I ended at the smokers patio jamming at the piano there with this German/Czech dude playing guitar and this girl singing. People were loving it and clapping between songs. After a while we ran out of beer, so I decided to go around with my hat in my hand asking for beer money for the band. I got enough Korunas to buy three pints and still had some change! Ha!

So we partied until they kicked us out, sometime round three.

I had forgotten what it was like sleeping in a hostel... people walking in and out in the middle of the night, boys and girls in their small clothes - myself included - and random travellers making out in the hallway. It was hilarious. It was rejuvenating.

I woke up the next day for the hostel breakfast. It was awesome. They eat whole grain bread here in Czech (a concept seemingly unknown in Spain), and their sausages (and I am assuming that these must be the cheaper ones) were delicious. So where the eggs, and the cheese, and the pancakes, and the coffee. No, I tell you, Aleksandra, food in Czech is fucking amazing.

Thereafter I browsed the internet looking for a flat and a job, sent a few applications and then chilled for a bit.

I then talked to Brent, whom I had chatted with briefly during breakfast earlier. I had then overheard him talking with the manager about a new employment arrangement. Brent is a painter from Canada who will be redoing some of the artwork along the walls. He referred me to a guy who will be performing a marionette show here later this evening - Jill, who is from Brazil. Jill is teaching Portuguese and some other language, so I will ask him, once I meet him, if he knows of any teaching opportunities.
It was then that I noticed that there was a piano at the common room. Indeed, Marcus had told me the night before that in Prague there are pianos everywhere. So I decided to try it and, to my surprise, it was perfectly tuned and had an incredibly responsive mechanism. Playing it was a delight.

So after playing for an hour or so, and receiving the praise of the guests lounging round the room, I decided to go to the reception and meet the manager. His name is Jacob and he is super cool. I offered him a deal along the lines of playing for his breakfast crowd in the morning in exchange for accommodation. He was open to the idea so we will give it a try tomorrow at 9am. So there you go, all things willing, I will have my accommodation accounted for during the upcoming week(s) by playing breakfast piano.

Little by little, Aleksandra, little by little. 

-Georg Freese

How To Make A Simple Sentence Interesting

As an artist, it is not only necessary to have heroes whom to emulate, but it is also necessary to have the critical thinking to analyze what it is that makes them outstanding. In other words, one should always be asking oneself how our heroes did what they did, and why it worked.

One of the many techniques used by my own hero - George RR Martin - is the use of specific words for his sentences, each one of which adds flavour to the sentence individually and to the narrative as a whole.

How does this technique work? Well, let's look at an example:

The boy was eating a bowl of cereal when the phone rang.

This is a plain sentence in every sense. It has a subject (the boy), an action (eating) and an object (cereal). It also has a subordinate clause with its own subject (phone) and action (rang). Notice this 'simple' sentence has no adjectives or adverbs.

Now let's replace.

Instead of the generic noun 'boy' I will call him 'James.'

Instead of the action 'eating' I will write 'spooning' - because cereals are eaten with spoons.

Instead of the generic term 'cereal,' I will use the specific name brand 'Corn Flakes.'

Now we have:

James was spooning a bowl of Corn Flakes.

See? I've not changed the elements of the sentence - I have only specified them. Furthermore, allow me to replace 'phone' with 'Smartphone' and 'ring' with 'buzz.'

The Smartphone buzzed.

We have all heard a Smartphone buzz - which is particularly loud when a Smartphone is laying on a table, as in, sitting next to the bowl from which its owner is eating, yeah?

Now I've not only specified an image, but evoked in you (the reader) the memory of a similar event which you yourself have witnessed.

Compare the two:

The boy was eating a bowl of cereal when the phone rang.

James was spooning a bowl of Corn Flakes when the Smartphone buzzed.

Awesome!

As I mentioned before, there were no adjectives or adverbs in the original 'simple' sentence. Notice that I did not need to add these to my 'interesting' sentence to make it more descriptive. That is the key of this technique: the elements of the sentence remain the same, and so the sentence remains short and tight.

Now you can use the same technique and replace the elements of the sentence with different specific words, creating a slightly different scenery from the same basic sentence:

Magdalena was slurping [ from ] a bowl of Raisin Brands when the Nokia chirped.

Kevin was gulping [ down ] a bowl of Lucky Charms when the Blackberry whistled.

Now, if I wanted to transplant this sentence to the realms of Westeros, I would do it like so:

Jon was spooning a bowl of porridge when the raven arrived.

Now you try it!

-GF

The Thirty-Seventh Milestone

Today I hold in my hand something which has been a lifetime in the obtaining - a lifetime of yearning. As I hold it in my hand, I look at it and think - it is real, and it is mine - at last.

Today is my 37th birthday, and it was on this very day that I received it. This is nothing less than portentous.

I do not believe in coincidences. I believe in will and I believe in the gods of the heavens and the gods of the earth. That is, I believe that where there is a will there is a way and, furthermore, where there is resolution the gods will lend a helping hand. I believe that factors unimaginable and circumstances unthought-of will all align to aid in the achievements of the individual who has set his heart towards a purpose. I believe this, because I have lived this.

I hold it in my hand now.

Indeed, this gift, delivered on my birthday, is a most providential gift on behalf of the gods. And I am grateful.

This is my birthright, yet I was not given it at my birth. I was denied it again when I turned eighteen and sought to obtain it - nineteen years ago. And I was presented with a score of obstacles when I decided, some seven years ago, to obtain it no matter what.

I hold it in my hand now.

Along the way, there were many who said that obtaining it would be impossible. Impossible they said! On those people I had to nevertheless rely, to obtain help which I needed. I received their help reluctantly, while even then being told that obtaining it would be impossible. To them I apologize, for I have no place in my life for people who are convinced that what I am trying to do is impossible.

I hold it in my hand now.

My life would have been a different story had I been given it at my birth, or when I turned eighteen - the gods know. Yet I cannot help but to think that this was all the will of the gods - a lifelong journey to arrive at the one place where - in my heart - I always knew that I belonged.

Indeed, my life has been a long journey which has seemed erratic to many and inspiring to some. Yet I always knew where I was headed, even when I did not know how to get there. It has not been too different from the ancient epics of an exiled man trying to find his way home, and Odyssey, if I may be so ostentatious. Or better yet, like one of those journeys narrated in the epic of George RR Martin - for there were times when the danger was real, and frighteningly close.

Yet, to all the instances when people asked me why I would not settle down, get a real job, maybe marry? I say this - in my life I have been a seed blown in the wind, reluctant to germinate and grow tendrils until the conditions were right, and averse to grow roots until I found my place. And I do not pretend to say that I have found my place in the world now but, as of today, my thirty-seventh birthday, I can't help but to feel that I am one step away from finding it.

I hold the key in my hand now.

It has been a lifelong journey to obtain it. Everything has been a lifelong journey for me - and it has not been easy - gods know. But it has taken me this long to write a novel ( which will be published later this year), it has taken me this long to become a working pianist ( you can hear me play at the CrossRoads every Friday), and it has taken me this long to weed out all the issues which swathed me during my troubled teens and tweens.

In other words, it has taken me this long to hew myself from the mess which I once was.

This is not a boast of achievement, gods know I still have a long way to go. But it is a milestone - a thirty-seventh milestone. And the gratification which comes from achievements after such a long and dire struggle is the more rewarding because of the possibilities which it enables. And the possibilities are limitless, for I have - against all odds - obtained the key.

I hold it in my hand now!

I feel a sense of peace, or rather, of confidence. When a journey has taken you this far, there are few people left to root for you, and you have only yourself to encourage yourself - only yourself to rely on. And I relied on myself, and it paid off.

There is only one last thing I have to say to the world while standing upon this thirty-seventh milestone - for I must soon move on if I intend to reach the thirty-eighth. And this is:

If you feel that at thirty-seven that maybe I am a little too old to be doing what I am doing, I apologize.

This is only how long it took me to get here. 

Group Dynamics: A Commentary On The SUV vs Motorcycle Band Incident.

When the recent incident made the news, of an SUV being surrounded and chased by a band of motorcyclists, I took a moment to watch the footage and related newsbroacasts, and was appalled. Let alone the horror of the situation itself, I was outraged by the general hesitation of the media to see fault where it laid.

It is really just a matter of numbers: one against many.

Would a passerby or small group deliberately instigate a confrontation with a larger one? Let alone a man driving with his wife and child? No.

What we have here is simple group dynamic:

First, there is a group of individuals, preferably males, preferably YOUNG males, who feel their confidence boosted by their numbers. Furthermore, the individuals feel their confidence boosted by group unity (insignias?) and equipment (in this case, motorcycles).

Now, within this group, there will always be a more volatile individual, one which, particularly defensive, will feel particularly aggressive when within the group. This volatile individual will then over-react at a perceived slight. Why? Because he feels over-confident within his group and entitled to respect, and anybody whom he perceives as not addressing him with said respect is therefore disrespecting him.

The volatile individual at this point will initiate a confrontation with the passerby (who only chanced to be at the wrong place at the wrong time). The passerby will naturally feel intimidated by the volatile individual, let alone the numbers standing behind him. He will panic, and try to run for his life - which is precisely what the man behind the wheel of the SUV did.

Now, the other members of this group, though not directly involved in the confrontation, add to the situation by sheer presence. You see, if the volatile individual were to hurt the passerby, their fault lies in standing there and allowing for it to happen - even keeping an eye out, as it where, for incoming law enforcement. If, by the odd chance, the passerby where to hold his ground and hurt the volatile individual instead, the members of this group would then step in to overwhelm him with numbers (this being the chase which develops during the length of the footage).

Hence, the other members of this group are not without fault. If ANYTHING, these members should have the rightful intuition (if not rightful honour) to halt the volatile individual before he does something stupid. They know who he is. Everyone in a group of three or more knows who the volatile individual amongst them is, yet they prefer not to do anything about it. Why? Because he is part of their group. It is like having a dog which is out of control. What does it matter if it threatens others so long as it is no threat to us? He won't bite. Not really.

Lastly, I saw at one of the news broadcasts that the motorcycle club issued an apology stating they do not encourage nor endorse acts of violence. That is fine, but an apology without reparations is just  words recited. The club knows who was there that day, they know who this volatile individual is. And unless they turn this man in to answer for his actions, they are protecting him sill, thus only perpetuating the problem.

It is to be remembered that, until not too long ago, there were (or maybe still are?) serious and dangerous crime organizations linked to motorcycle groups, here in the very state of New York. And even though this club may be a mere recreational association, it inevitably evokes the fears forged by these criminal bands, especially when they commit acts such as what was witnessed nationwide last Sunday.

Like I said, I am outraged that the media promotes such hesitation in finding fault where it lays. It is disturbing to live in an age where media overshadows common sense, and technology eclipses our understanding of human nature, specially when it comes down to the same group dynamics which have been since the beginning of time.

For all the video footage and commentaries, there is only one truth which says it all: one against many.

-GF 

Heroic Speeches in Movies: Weaker and Weaker?

Heroic speeches in films are getting weaker and weaker.

I remember 'Braveheart' and its legendary speech written based on Shakespeare's Henry V. I mean, who does not remember, "They can take our lives! But they cannot take our Freedom!"

Legendary.

But now, the last two speeches I recall seeing are the ones from 'Immortals' and 'Pacific Rim' - both cases in which it feels like the soldiers are responding to a cue from the film's director rather than to the words said by the protagonist.

Pretty lame, huh?

And by the way, disclosure, Pacific Rim kicked Kaiju ass!

But back to speeches; I absolutely LOVE what HBO did in Game Of Thrones, when Theon Greyjoy makes a heroic speech before his raiders, with glorious music and all, only to be clubbed in the back of the head and betrayed to enemy! (I don't think this was even in the books?)

And on that note, let us not forget the all-time predecessor of Speech-Interruptus: who can forget Samuel L. Jackson ( the man who belligerently demanded to know whether Marcellus Wallace looked like a bitch?!) giving a motivational speech in Deep Blue, only to be swallowed whole by a shark even before he was finished! Legendary!

Let me just say that 'Deep Blue' is worth watching just for that one scene.

And yet, if anything, these last two examples illustrate only what a mockery inspiring speeches have become. But why is that? Have we seen too many? Are we a generation so desensitized that we can't be moved by a strongly voiced oration? Or are the films nowadays just so lame that we can't bring ourselves to care whether the characters make it or not?

-Georg Freese

A Movie Without An Intro?

Are the first thirty minutes of any movie really that essential?

I remember when I was a kid growing up in Santiago, Chile, my granddad would take me to the rotary cinemas downtown. At these cinemas, a given film was played in an endless loop. One bought a ticket and walked in at any point in the film and watched it until the end, and then, if one wanted to, could stay to watch the film start from the beginning again.

I watched Rocky I, II, III & IV like this in rotary cinemas with my granddad.

Later in life, as a pre-tween, I remember finding myself with a few hours to kill, in downtown Santiago, and I decided to drop into one of these cinemas which, by then, I had not visited in a while. I still recall the film - it was 'Strange Days' with Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Lewis. I sat halfway into the movie and the conflict and the chase, and had a great time assuming by the interaction between the characters what the relationship between them was.

Then I watched the beginning and had one of those 'Oh! So THAT'S why such and such was doing this or that!' moment. It was awesome, and in a way, it was like watching a prequel (which are so popular these days).

This 'Oh!' moment was fully blown-up when I went to an art house cinema to watch Tarantino's Pulp Fiction, a masterpiece which influenced me radically and spurred the style of writing I pursue today. No, the art house was not a rotary cinema, but if you have watched Pulp Fiction, you too had that 'Oh! So THAT'S why he did it!' moment.

That being said, I think that - unfortunately - most movies are very predictable. In fact, I become the most bored during the fight/chase scenes, because I can tell beforehand what will happen, namely that the hero will not get hurt and that the bad guy will be demised (But that is the topic for another blog, one which I will name, 'Cut to the chase? Why not cut OUT the chase?")

If a movie is likely to be predictable, watching it from halfway through adds some excitement to it. Now I'm busy trying to figure out who is who DURING the fight/chase, adding another dimension of interest. And, if the denouement turns out to be interesting, hey, I'll watch it from the beginning next chance I get.

The most hilarious example of this is when, while now living in Los Angeles, I took a friend to see Aliens Vs. Predator - lame, I know. I told my friend we could do without the first thirty minutes of the film, given that all that happened during that time was the introduction of your run-of-the-mill characters, each of which will get slaughtered, one at a time.

We went instead to a Starbucks across the street for some Frapuccinos ( Fraps + Air Conditioned cinemas being the perfect antidote for the swelter of an L.A. summer ). When we returned, we walked into the cinema just in time to see the eggs hatch, the face-huggers pounce and the massacre begin. And guess what, the plot was so lame there really WAS no need to get to know any of the characters beforehand. Bang!

So ARE the first thirty minutes of a given film that important? I don't know. Maybe for films which are excellent; hallmarks or classics or revolutionaries. But then again, iconic films of this calibre, I will probably watch more than once - from the very beginning, to the very end. As for the rest, well...

-Georg Freese

Disclosed Ending

Who-done-it? This is such a cliché there is even a genre named after it. But does it really matter who did it? I mean, is a novel/film less interesting when one knows who did it ahead of time?

This is not the case for me. As a writer, I enjoy a good story just as much whether knowing or not who did it, i.e. the denouement or ending.

In fact, every time I come across an awesome story, I make it a point of reading/watching it again, and I enjoy the insight I have gained on the characters and I sympathize for them who do not know what is going to happen to them.

If the story is good, and the characters solid, knowing the ending does not alter the enjoyment of the experience the book/film offers - the ability to transport the audience into a fictional reality - which is what matters to me and, I think, to a lot of people who enjoy watching their favourite films over and over again.

But where did this topic come from? Well, friends and acquaintances often will recommend me a film they really enjoyed. When I ask them what it is about, often they will say, "Oh, I can't tell you without giving away the ending." But the fact is that I have a busy schedule and, unless I can be guaranteed a good denouement/ending, chances are that I am not going to bother going out of my way to sit down and read said book or watch said film.

If, on the other hand, the plot actually is interesting to its end, I will make it a point to read this book or watch this film, comfortable in the fact that I know there is a good denouement at the end of it, and that I have not just wasted 800 pages or 2 hours on a book or film which sucks.

Furthermore, when writing, I always come up with the ending first and work my way towards the beginning from there. I don't know. Maybe it is just the way I am wired. But still, I guess that what I am saying is that a good story is a good story, whether the ending has been previously disclosed or not. And, in contrast, a bad story is a bad story no matter how the creator/audience try to hide its ending.

Because, if the story is boring, it does not really matter who-done-it. The only thing that matters then, is when-is-this-over?

-Georg Freese