Sometimes, I think some rather random things. I don’t know if they are worth sharing or appropriate (well, the answer is probably a resounding “NO” on both counts there, actually), but, now they’re out there. And you can’t unread them. You’re welcome.
Hi Internet! So, last night after a brutal lifting session, I came back to my apartment ready to pass out. Instead I said, “Screw it, I’m gonna write a song just for the internet, because, science.” And so I did. A little rough around the edges but hey, it works. It’s very dope. You might even learn something new from it!
P.S.: In case you might happen to wonder what the song is about, look below.
So enjoy, internet – this one is for you. Or don’t, whatever. You’re already here though so you might as well catch all this ear candy (That does not include the vocals, btw, just letting you know this right here is a limited guarantee)!
Actually, you know what, just listen to the one on the bottom if you can’t stand my voice. What can I say, I’m an instrumentalist, not a vocalist. Plus I just took twelve hours (entertaining myself) to entertain you!
-Namakemono
Monthly Archives: June 2014
Random Thought Of The Day: Pulp Fiction – What’s In The Briefcase
Sometimes, I think some rather random things. I don’t know if they are worth sharing or appropriate (well, the answer is probably a resounding “NO” on both counts there, actually), but, now they’re out there. And you can’t unread them. You’re welcome.
For anyone who has ever seen what is arguably Quentin Tarantino’s best film to date, Pulp Fiction, one question above all remains poised above their heads. No, I’m not talking about the fate of Butch or whatever becomes of Jules, interesting as those particulars may be. You know damn well I am talking about the briefcase.
I’ll keep this fairly short, but I set about thinking of what exactly could be so incredibly important to someone of Marsellus Wallace’s stature and arrived at some conclusions. Given that Wallace is a mob boss, it might seem that the case would be filled with cash – perhaps a payment due him. However if that were so, it wouldn’t be particularly critical that the audience be kept in suspense as to the case’s contents. Likewise, if it were some other asset with a monetary value (e.g. diamonds, jewlery, stock/bond certificates, etc.) it would actually be a disservice to the characterization of Wallace that the briefcase’s contents are not shared with the audience. With the case containing some type of liquid asset, it would be abundantly clear that Wallace was a man about his money with no exception. So NO, the briefcase does not hold money, jewelry, or anything with a typical monetary value, because if it did we would know.
Other theories posit the contents of the briefcase as Marsellus Wallace’s soul or an embodiment of violence itself. Interesting, but, NO. There is nothing mystical or magical inside the briefcase, and we aren’t here to dissect the film from an abstract standpoint.
“So what the f-*BEEP*-k is it?!?!?!?”
Is what you’re probably shouting at me, with your big wonderful brain all the way across the interwebs over there.
The answer is simpler than you would think.
The briefcase in Pulp Fiction belonging to Marsellus Wallace contains a passport kit. Think about that.
What I mean by passport kit is one or more passports legally (but shadily) obtained in Wallace’ name, that would grant him unconditional citizenship and access to a number of countries/territories outside of the good old U.S. of A. As well as perhaps some (sufficient but ultimately insignificant) amount of currency to match each passport, and any other legal documents he may require to establish himself as a legitimate citizen of another nation. Like I said, think about it.
On the surface this wouldn’t exactly seem like anything all that special; however, for people like Marsellus Wallace money isn’t an end but rather a means to an end. His true goal would be freedom, power and access to resources, in exponentially greater amounts. While Wallace is a powerful underground figure in L.A. and his influence likely reaches some distance beyond the city, he’s ultimately a zakko; a small fry. Greater access to resources and freedom of movement would allow him to transcend his current status level and become a more powerful figure on a larger stage.
I could continue to break this whole idea down further, but I won’t. Suffice it to say that if Marsellus Wallace is half as sharp as he ought to be, greater access in an increasingly global world would be his priority in order to transcend his status as an L.A. crime boss and become a global shadow figure.
Ok, I’m tired of explaining, you go on and tease out the rest of it on your own. Go on, I trust you, you got this. Remember, this was only a random thought, stop acting like I’m supposed to lay it all out nice and clean every damn time. I write what I want. Eat it.
-Namakemono
Random Thought Of The Day: What’s The Point Of It All?
Sometimes, I think some rather random things. I don’t know if they are worth sharing or appropriate (well, the answer is probably a resounding “NO” on both counts there, actually), but, now they’re out there. And you can’t unread them. You’re welcome.
There are times when the deepest pocket of the furthest corner of the darkest hole in the thick of the belly of the middle of nowhere is just not far-gone enough.
So what then? Call the whole thing off, so to speak? After all, distance and disconnect mean nothing to a dead man.
No, one can never call death a true victory. There is no pleasure in death. No relief. No peace. There is only a never-ending nothing, a void bereft of absolution, and death is absolutely irrelevant if one desires only this.
There are still pleasures to be had, even in this all-too-imperfect pocket. The smell of a long blade of grass snapped in two; the perfect feeling of the sun on your face in that split second before the warmth becomes overwhelming; that slight chill that runs through your body as a pressure shift precedes a storm.
The pain that develops in your ears from sound waves too loud to ever be safe. The dull, persistent stinging in your eyes that comes from staring at everything which captivates you. The stupor induced by a sleep that has ended far too soon.
Et al.
Live for these. Seek them out, and allow them to wrap a smile onto your face. It will eventually become your default mode of expression.
When the deepest pocket of the furthest corner of the darkest hole in the thick of the belly of the middle of nowhere is simply not far-gone enough, stop running. And when you do, try to understand this one simple fact:
Your life is the extremely unlikely yet fortunate result of several coincidences coalescing. The very insignificance of your life itself is its significance. Every part of you could just as soon be space dust. Relish the fact that for a brief moment of time, instead of space dust, you happened.
-Namakemono
Namakemono no Manifesto 