Joyful, Mindless Abandon Entry: Earth Girls are Easy

Earth Girls are Easy is a fun, silly romp with the most subtle and sly of jokes. And it’s vaguely anarchic take on 80’s Valley Girl shtick is not an accident – -it was directed by Julian Temple, who’s documentaries are arguably who put The Sex Pistols on the map of the 70’s punk scene. Quite a weird pedigree for a movie with this much flamingo pink in it.

Way more fun than sunbathing usually is.

1988’s ‘Earth Girls are Easy’ is almost ridiculous in how much fun it is.

Beyond the goofy story, kitschy production design, random musical numbers and serendipitous casting, the movie seems less like a real thing and more like a modern teenager’s fever dream of what the ultimate ridiculous 80’s movie might be. It stars Geena Davis, Damon Wayans, Jim Carrey, and Julie Brown. It’s equal parts Barbie/Valley Girl vapidity, sci-fi satire, and romantic comedy.

Also, it has vintage Jeff Goldblum.

Fun Fact: Did you know Jeff Goldblum's torso makes a perfect equilateral triangle? I can do that math. Yes I can.

Jeff Goldblum is the male equivalent of the thing they do in movies where they take a hot girl and put glasses on her to make her dowdy. Put him in glasses and a jacket with elbow patches and you have a nerdly college professor who is still smoking hot. Put him in overalls and you have a hot farmer. Dress him in sweats and a ‘Han Shot First!’ tshirt with Cheeto stains and he’s still That Hot Guy who’s into World of Warcraft. The man’s hotness is unimpeachable.

Earth Girls are Easy begins with two furry aliens onboard their little ship, trying to get their version of Skinemax working. Jim Carrey, proving to the world that even a red fursuit can’t cramp his overacting style, plays Wiploc, and the more restrained and somewhat more charming Zeebo is played by Damon Wayans. Their captain, Mac, is snoozing in some kind of giant laser tube while his crew gets up to shenanigans.

Enter Val, the consummate Valley Girl, trying to entice her fiancee into a night of passion back on Earth–only to be rebuffed. Doctor Ted, World’s Biggest Shitheel, comes home ‘tired’ from work and goes right to sleep. What’s really going on is that Ted is just not that attracted to Val anymore, and is considering a ‘last fling’ with a coworker in order to spice things up before he marries her. Because, you know, if there’s one thing a troubled relationship needs, it’s infidelity.

Valerie, in an attempt to win back Ted’s affections, undergoes a makeover at the salon where she works, orchestrated by Julie Brown, an 80’s personality who co-wrote the film. The result has Val looking a bit like Pris from Blade Runner–owing more to Davis’s 6-foot-tall frame and bone structure than anything else.

It's all fun and games until the technology becomes self aware.

Seriously. Her legs go on longer than a Ken Burns documentary.

Anyway, it turns out Ted thought she would be out of the house and takes the opportunity to bring home his fling–with disastrous results. Val throws his ass out with nothing but his boxers and carkeys,  and performs a pretty boss little music video montage where she trashes his stuff.

Even for the 80’s, that was pretty 80’s-tastic.

Anyhoodle, the next day the aliens land in her pool, drawn to the Valley by images of hot girls doing aerobics. With Julie Brown’s help, she shaves and dyes them, making them look normal (if not distractingly hot). This might have been a fun place to reflect on the details of the change–if they don’t shave every day, do they get red, yellow or blue stubble? Was ALL their bodyhair affected? Are these questions I really want to know the answer to?

Although from another planet, their Asperger’s-like interactions with other Valley inhabitants go completely unnoticed, and Val’s explanation that they are a Finnish rock band placates the rare question. Hell, there’s not much people questioned then.

Every scene looks like it takes place in Pee-Wee's Playhouse. This is a good thing.

The humor of the movie is more clever than you’d expect: Davis was a gifted comedic actress, after all, and while the movie doesn’t make the most of her talents, her charm and mildly vapid gawkiness gives the film a necessary boost. And little nods to both the seediness of the local scene (especially Michael McKean’s past-his-prime surfer, Woody) and classic Sci-fi (an ice cream parlor in the background is ‘2001 Flavors,’ Val’s dream after sex with Mac has a small army of recognizable science fiction stalwarts, like Robby the Robot and fishbowl helmets. And much of the film’s best laughs are little throwaway moments: Val dismissing instant pudding as ‘too much work,’ or Goldblum ‘acting normal’ by pretending to shave with a stuffed animal in the background of a scene which is mostly between Val and Ted.

Earth Girls are Easy is a fun, silly romp with the most subtle and sly of jokes. And it’s vaguely anarchic take on 80’s Valley Girl shtick is not an accident – -it was directed by Julian Temple, who’s documentaries are arguably who put The Sex Pistols on the map of the 70’s punk scene. Quite a weird pedigree for a movie with this much flamingo pink in it.

Earth Girls are Easy is available on Instant Watch.

In a Nutshell: The Mythology of Veronica Mars

To wit: much of the show is about class warfare, about have and have-not. But if you think about it, the Greek/Roman mythology angle can be applied to this dynamic as well: The haves, the O9ers as they’re called because they live in the super-affluent 90909 zip code, are also the Gods. The gods of the Greek/Roman mythos were not bastions of goodness and honor; they were selfish, childish, and not above entertaining themselves by antagonizing and torturing mortals. The have-nots represent the beleaguered mortals, ever powerless in the face of the haves’ money and influence.

I’m stewing on a much longer entry about Veronica Mars Seasons 1-3, which I just finished watching for the first time, but thought I’d just mention this about the Mars use of mythology. There’ll be spoilers, if you’re trying to avoid them before watching the series.

I noticed (like everyone else) the use of mythological names and places–Veronica Mars, who lives in Neptune, drives a Saturn, and occasionally wanders into the River Styx. I especially liked their little nod to the Greek story cycle by having someone watching Clash of the Titans, a childhood favorite of mine starring Harry Hamlin (who plays action superstar Aaron Echolls).

But there are more layers than just the obvious ones.

To wit: much of the show is about class warfare, about have and have-not. But if you think about it, the Greek/Roman mythology angle can be applied to this dynamic as well: The haves, the O9ers as they’re called because they live in the super-affluent 90909 zip code, are also the Gods. The gods of the Greek/Roman mythos were not bastions of goodness and honor; they were selfish, childish, and not above entertaining themselves by antagonizing and torturing mortals. The have-nots represent the beleaguered mortals, ever powerless in the face of the haves’ money and influence.

'And after the lightning bolts come the unkind status updates on Facebook! Alcmene is totally a whore!'

That much of the comparison is obvious, but where does Veronica herself fit in?

Since Veronica moves in both worlds, she represents the cthonic heroes: Perseus, Theseus, Heracles, Bellerophon. Chthonic heroes were more earthly gods, and were often people who were half-god or were elevated to the status of deities; if you’re at all familiar with the old myths you know that part of an Olympian’s daily routine was impregnating mortals–just after the morning wine and olive buffet.

These half-gods were usually the ones who stuck up for mortals: who else would? (A fun example of this is the old Hercules: The Legendary Journeys show, all of which is available on Netflix. It starred Kevin Sorbo and Michael Hurst, and was a hoot most of the time)

Add 50 lbs, a stupid haircut and an oversized Xfiles tshirt, and it's me in high school!

Enter Veronica Mars, whose name is a derivation from Berenice, which is Latin for ‘She who brings victory.’ In the context of the show, that’s just brilliant right there.

Veronica enjoys some status when her father is Sheriff, making her partly one of the haves, but after he is stripped of his office and becomes a PI she becomes an outsider, a former-have who is no longer welcome among either group.

In my world, Mars and Bunk from 'The Wire' solve mysteries in Miami or New Orleans while wearing straw fedoras and linen suits.

Keith Mars himself is no one’s idea of a god of war, at least not Kratos–short, bald,  and generally good-natured, he can nonetheless throw down when necessary. Somewhere in the film world, there’s a ‘World’s Greatest Dad’ coffee mug with his name on it, and rightfully so. (A sidenote, if Veronica had just fessed up to her Dad more often, her life would have been simpler and thus less television-worthy).

And while there are probably more salient points to the whole mythology angle of Veronica Mars, I think I’ll leave today’s entry at that. It really is a fun show–the funny thing is, you can’t put your finger on why it’s so good, I mean nothing about it particularly sticks out. Possibly because every aspect of the show is that interesting and well-done. The subtle California Noir aspect of the show is one of my favorite things about it, and it’s done well without hitting you over the head. Like many other people, I wasn’t that into the 3rd season, probably because it was so uneven and the new intro didn’t do it any favors, but I still watched and enjoyed it.

All three seasons are available on Instant Watch.

Grown Up Horror: Below

Below, which opened in like, no theaters in 2002, was written by Darren Aronofsky and directed by David Twohy, so its pedigree is pretty well established just from their involvement. The characterizations are spot on, the writing snappy, and the situations introduced nothing short of terrifying, on a conceptual level.

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

A few years ago, an English friend and I were exchanging comments on my personal blog about something or other when he brought up an interesting point: if you watch American films about World War 2, you’d think the US won the war single-handedly.

Which means when you say ‘World War’ it sounds kind of like the US was up against the rest of Earth. It sounds that way if you watch The History Channel, if you talk to a Greatest Generationer, or to my dad.

Below, a horror movie taking place on an American U-boat, presents a more ecumenical grasp of the US’s involvement in the war, while delivering some pretty decent scares along the way.

The film begins with a group of shipwreck survivors floating in a rubber raft; a small plane flies over, but the plane is low on fuel and can’t stop to pick them up. The plane relays the raft’s location to an American Uboat crew on patrol nearby, who immediately change course, though they are hesitant because of the presence of Germans nearby.

The survivors were aboard a British hospital ship torpedoed by a German sub, and are the only ones alive of the 300 or so medical staff and patients. Olivia Williams , best known for her role in Rushmore and Joss Whedon’s Dollhouse TV series, plays Claire, one of the survivors, and the fact that there is now a woman on board complicates an already complicated situation.

Now in the film there comes a narrative shift–we come into the movie thinking our protagonist is Odell, the sharp young officer who can recite the submariner’s motto in Latin or perhaps Captian Brice, a career Navy man played aptly by Bruce Greenwood. An ugly incident concerning the third survivor of the British shipwreck and Captain Brice leads Claire to realize that Brice is only ‘acting’ Captain, filling in for Captain Winters, whose mysterious death Claire sets out to investigate once things begin going hinky on the sub.

And let me say, a WW2 sub is no place for things to go hinky. Not at all.

Besides being a decent murder mystery and atmospheric horror, the sub itself triggers a very special form of claustrophobia–fear of being trapped in a small space where one will run out of oxygen and die. Everything is horribly, horribly analogue, reflecting the reality of the very slim margin of error on board a Uboat. Especially since the survival of the crew hinges on someone understanding the importance of Checking Their Work and remembering to Carry The Goddamn One. To wit: Not only did a crew have to keep track of their own movements to know where the hell they were, they had to keep track of enemy Uboats in order to be able to guess where the latter were so they didn’t just blunder across each other’s path. And they did anyway, since all the Germans had to do to screw up one’s plans was slightly change course.

Plus, if your engine doesn’t run smoothly you may wind up a adrift a few hundred feet below the surface, with no way to get back up. You could try and go out the hatch, and die in the first few seconds from either drowning or hypothermia. Plus there’s no way you can hold your breath long enough to swim the 600 feet. Plus you might get the bends, unless that’s only for scuba divers. Plus there are eight hundred billion other things that can go wrong so it’s a wonder any submarine crews survived the war, at least according to my own semi-hysterical calculations. And that’s just what can happen WITHOUT running into the enemy!

"What do you mean, 'forgot to carry the one?' DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT GERMAN WATER LOOKS LIKE AS OPPOSED TO ENGLISH?"

The rest of the cast is comprised of capable character actors–some of which are playing against type with pretty interesting results. Nick Chinlund, who usually plays sleazebags, is the tough and reliable Engineering Chief, Zach Galifiniakis plays a nerd fascinated with ghosts and the supernatural who reads his ‘Tales from the Vault’ type comics to the rest of the crew as entertainment, and Holt McCallany, best known from his small role in Fight Club or Alien 3, plays man’s man and yoyo enthusiast Loomis, an alpha consigned to beta status. Jason Flemyng, from approximately any English movie with special effects or action scenes, puts in a memorable turn as Stumbo, a scumbaggy fellow with a penchant for tasteless jokes involving dead bodies.

Below, which opened in like, no theaters in 2002, was written by Darren Aronofsky and directed by David Twohy, so its pedigree is pretty well established just from their involvement. The characterizations are spot on, the writing snappy, and the situations introduced nothing short of terrifying, on a conceptual level.

This is definitely one to add to your Instant Watch queue, a great film for a dinner party or date night. I can’t recommend it highly enough!

Big Drunk Posts – Babe: Pig In the City

Read this. Don’t skip it. You’ll be thankful you did.

Mrs. Hoggett learns Horrifyng Lessons

When the original Babe movie came out, a young cousin of mine insisted on watching it over and over again. Although I loved the movie when it came out (I was in high school at the time) watching it ad nauseum turned me off to the notion of the sequel, Babe: Pig in the City, when it appeared in theaters.It seemed like a shameless attempt at cashing in on zeitgeist.

It sort of fell off my radar after that.

In 2008, The Onion did a New Cult Canon review of the film, and in reading about it and watching the clips I realized I might really be missing out on something. I put it in my Netflix queue and sort of forgot about it.

Then one of my dad’s closest friends died.

I found out the night before, was up most of the night crying, and decided to call in to work the following day.

While at home, I saw we had movies, and being a person who likes movies in a time of emotional upset, I decided to watch whatever the hell was near at hand. It turned out to be today’s entry.

As a children’s movie, Babe: Pig in the City is somewhat wanting. There are a lot of bizarre plot twists, characters with shady motivations, disturbing characters, and downright twisted imagery.

Things get weird. So, so weird.

As an affirmation of remaining true to oneself, throwing off the expectations of others, the benefits that may come with risk, and continuing to struggle in the face of impossibly bleak odds, it is a goddamn masterpiece.

That’s right: the truth gets typed in bold.

Between horrible Rube Goldbergian accidents, geriatric clowns, licentious chimpanzees, art deco/steampunk architecture, rampant species-ism, brutal life lessons, and animal violence, Pig in the City seems more like something one of the Davids (Lynch or Cronenberg) might jot down in their Bad Dream Diary and forget about. It’s easy to see why it failed as children’s movie, when it was really the next City of Lost Children.

At base, it’s about getting separated from one’s protector/parent/comfort zone and the inherent fear of needing to fend for oneself, as well as other less-articulated fears like fierce dogs, strangers, liars, clowns, and even the police:  in a particularly frightening scene where the Health Department conducts a Swat-style raid on a hotel full of animals in hiding,, many animals are brutally subjected to cages, choke-poles, nooses and just rough treatment. There are so many facets to the film it’s almost trite to try and name them all. What Miller was attempting was something less like Bambi and more like ET, but unfortunately the timing was wrong–a film like this would have cleaned up in the 80’s, when children’s fare tended to wander into the dark more often.Unfortunately, the late 90’s was more geared towards the sugar-coated, Nerf-encased products of today.

Do not, do NOT, be frightened away from seeing this movie because of this image. It's worth it, believe me.

An important factor differentiating the first Babe from its much darker second is that the second was largely scripted by George Miller, who directed (but didn’t write) the first. Miller began his career as a trauma center surgeon in Australia, putting back together people who had grievously damaged themselves in traffic accidents, and it was this constant exposure to youth bike/racing culture that brought him to write and direct the films he’s much better known for than Babe:

The Mad Max films.

The man who directed a movie about a sweet little pig who refuses to conform to barnyard stereotypes also wrote Mad Max. He wrote THUNDERDOME for Christ’s sake.

Here’s a fun little gratuitous jaunt in the Wayback Machine, about a woman named Entity and her little Raggedy Man:

Yeah, I feel like watching it again RIGHT NOW, too. Mel Gibson may be a crazy ass ranty mysogynist, but that movie isn’t just Mel Gibson. It’s George Miller, Tina Turner, Angry Anderson, giant trucks, chainsaw battles, and everything else.

Pig in the City is a rightful entry into the new Film Canon: as mentioned above, it makes an abysmal children’s movie, and an amazing affirmation of keeping one’s moral compass amid unrelenting social pressure.

On the screen, I finally saw the sorts of things I believe in being displayed: respect for others and their rights and beliefs, understanding, reciprocal altruism (the concept that the good you do may be returned: karma, sort of), and most of all, optimism.

The first two-thirds of the movie are brilliant, but it begins to break down in the 3rd with an extended ‘zany party bungee’ scene. I can see why such a strangely lighthearted sequence would fit, if only it had been a little more underplayed it might have netted the Babe movies another Oscar nod.

There are rumors that Miller is writing a 3rd installment to the franchise: they may come to nothing, but I wouldn’t mind seeing a 3rd Babe film. I hope it’s as good as Babe 1, if only so it makes decent money and is a delight for children, but secretly I’m hoping for another installment of the wondrous weirdness that is Pig in the City.

Happy Pig! See it for the happy pig!

Pig in the City is not available on Instant Watch.

4 More Life Lessons from 80’s Movies

There is no saving Artax. He has reached his limit, and will not be moved. Atreyu can’t save his horse, because Artax doesn’t want to save himself–and when someone loses the will to live, even after the intervention of their friends and family, there’s little that will drag them back.

Every culture in the world will eventually produce a set of maxims for behavior; from the laws of Nebuchadnezzar, to the doctrines of Thomas Aquinas, to basic Internet Etiquette, there are morals and suggestions for human interaction everywhere–you could trip over them and someone would be there to tell you what you did wrong.

Oddly enough, I noticed a lot of 80’s movies had such maxims, and have been collecting them and posting them as I think of them. The first part of the list can be found here.

4. The Secret of Nimh – ‘Crying doesn’t solve anything.’

Sometimes, your best isn't good enough--whatever it is, it needs to get DONE.

Mrs. Brisby has some serious problems.

Her husband was recently killed in an accident, one of her three children is desperately ill, and she needs to move her family (including her house) to a new location, otherwise they will be crushed by the farmer’s tractor when it is time to harrow the field they live in.

Lady has a lot on her mind.

So when the tractor starts up unexpectedly, she and her friend Auntie Shrew (who I always thought of as one hardass bitch–she either had some messed up stuff happen in her life or did some time in Vermin Jail), who are both about the size of a lemon, take it on.

A mouse and a shrew take on a tractor.

While all the other animals in the field are hauling ass from the path of the tractor, Mrs. Brisby and the shrew are running towards it, screaming warnings. They reach the tractor, clamber up a loose chain, and begin scrambling about its interior in search of a way to shut it down. Brisby, faced with the prospect of falling into the churned earth the harrow blade turns up, shuts down, and can only cling to the tractor and shake. The Shrew winds up tearing out a crucial hose (oil?) and the tractor shuts down.

Later, as the two gather their wits in the high grass, Brisby breaks down crying over the ordeal, but also the recent traumas she’s faced.

Coldly, almost hatefully, the Shrew snarls at her to “Stop it.”

You'd be surprised how many good pictures there aren't of her.

The Shrew is disgusted, not by the display, but because Brisby doesn’t have the luxury of being selfish right now, of thinking about her woes and weeping. She needs to get her shit together and figure out how she’s going to save her children–when Brisby plaintively weeps ‘I wish Jonathan [her husband] was here’ you get a sense that Brisby was overly reliant on him, that he would have figured something out himself, saving her the trouble. She wants to be taken care of again, to have someone else fix her problems, and she doesn’t have that option anymore–it’s up to her.

Brisby is now a single mother. The rest of the movie consists of her learning how strong she truly is, as she faces terrifying creatures and learns to trust herself to do the right thing. I can’t think of another movie in recent years that so elegantly explores the plight of a single parent and all that it entails. Not a children’s movie about talking mice, anyway.

3. Legend – ‘Trust People.’

Who is our Generation's Tim Curry? What actor in recent years could step into these pants? WHO?

With all the fantasy trappings surrounding Legend–unicorns, goblins, fairies, pixies, wild boys in shorts, princesses, giant castles, monsters,  and a certain giant red campy fellow–it’s easy to lose sight of what the film is really about: trusting people.

Jack is a recluse, living in the woods with his animal friends and relaxed dress code. There’s a reason he’s there and not in the city, and it isn’t to save money on production costs–he’s a hermit, he doesn’t trust people. Only Lily, a spoiled Princess, can get close to him.

Which is why, when Jack takes Lily to see the unicorns and she ignores him, breaking a major rule and actually TOUCHING ONE, he loses his trust in her. He doesn’t know that the reason the unicorn freaked out was due to the goblins’ poisoned dart, or anything about the machinations of Darkness and his goblins. He thinks that Lily touching the unicorn is what ruined everyone’s day.

So though he spends the rest of the movie trying to make right what happened, and save her, it is also about him remembering to trust her, no matter what she’s done or how she’s changed. Remember, when he left her, she was all ‘Disney Princess Barbie,’ with the smiles and the charm and the giggling. When he finds her again, she looks like this:

If it doesn't fit, you improvise!

Since he dumped her, she’s been rooming and sharing clothes and makeup tips with Klaus Nomi Darkness, a red-skinned fellow with an infectious laugh and an even more relaxed dress code than Jack. They’re kind of like Mickey and Donald–Mickey (Darkness) wears pants, and Donald (Jack) wears a shirt–together they make a whole outfit.

Anyhoo, when Jack has to make his choice, he’s got a bunch of fairies yelling in his ear that Lily can’t be trusted, that she’s changed. His faith in her is an illustration of the pure goodness alluded to in the rest of the film–after all, being good means being good ALL the time, not getting to pick and choose when you follow the rules–the fairies hearts’ were in the right place but they don’t know everything, as is established earlier by Gump not being aware of Oona’s secret.  Jack trusts Lily–and the day is saved.

2. The Burbs – Idle Hands are the Devil’s Playthings

Dear Tom Hanks: Comedy misses you. Please take its calls again.

I miss the comedy films of Tom Hanks.

I haven’t seen too many of his dramas the last five years or so–no particular reason other than I already see more than enough dramas and have no interest in Dan Brown’s books.

But one upon a time, he made comedies. Fantastic, creative comedies the likes of which aren’t made anymore because of the lack of fart jokes and horrible people in them. Hanks took a middling comedy and elevated it to hilarity.

The Burbs is a comedy about a man who decides to spend his vacation lying around the house, drinking beer with friends and speculating on the new neightbors who have just moved in. He wants to garden, to vegetate, to putter, to wear his pajamas all day and relax.

But his bucolic rest is interrupted when he and his buddies begin inflating the importance of neighborhood events into something sinister–a missing neighbor, an errant toupee, the new neighbors digging in the backyard during a rainstorm in the middle of the night… conclusions are drawn and plans are made.

The lesson here (although it turns out that the neighbors WERE up to something unsavory) is that boredom can lead to invention the same way necessity can, the difference being that being bored usually gets people into trouble–boredom in a relationship can lead to cheating, boredom with a job leads to dissatisfaction and doing it half-assed, boredom with your life breeds a need for escapism.

Not only that, but The Burbs were one of those early movies that had the courage to suggest that maybe the good old days..weren’t so good? Like No Country For Old Men, it dared to present the idea that rose-colored glasses were a pretty poor medium for viewing the past.

1. The Neverending Story – When You’re Going Through Hell, Keep Going.

This is the big one for me.

 i
Just looking at it breaks my heart all over again

There are a lot of lessons to be learned from The Neverending Story–about following your dreams, about courage, about trusting people–but the one that always, always, always jumps out at me when I am watching it is that no matter how shitty things get, you have to keep going.

Depression is a pervasive illness many people don’t realize they have. It’s insidious, it creeps in and ruins your good times, pushes you away from happiness, makes you hurt others (this numbness, where the things you usually enjoy bring no pleasure, is known as ‘anhedonia’) . Many people think of depression as being sad for a time, as a period with a fixed beginning and ending. Depression is not being ‘down in the dumps,’  it’s a chemical imbalance that can become more or less pronounced, but never really goes away. It can be medicated, and combated with therapy, but at best you will learn how to manage it and live with it.

Enter the nefarious scene with Artax the horse–Atreyu tries to drag the horse bodily out of the swamps of sadness, and when the latter won’t move he becomes angry, screaming, insulting the horse, then just pleading and begging as the horse sinks deeper into the black muck. ‘Move, please,’ still brings tears to my eyes, every time I hear that barely-teenaged boy’s voice.

There is no saving Artax. He has reached his limit, and will not be moved. Atreyu can’t save his horse, because Artax doesn’t want to save himself–and when someone loses the will to live, even after the intervention of their friends and family, there’s little that will drag them back.

It’s a scene that doesn’t get the cinematic respect it should–I mean, the movie isn’t Schindler’s List, but it’s no Battlefield: Earth, either. It’s a moving metaphor for depression: after all, it’s easy to stop moving, but sometimes nearly impossible to get going again.

More than anything else, depression is what happens when you forget the feeling of joy, of hope. Remembering it, rediscovering that warmth and happiness, can be one of the most rewarding moments in your life, but my god, getting there can be an uphill battle.

He Kept Going.