Golf Clap

The thunder of the human spirit evokes tectonic tremors every so often. You notice these things if you monitor ground-penetrating radar like I do. No Country for Old Men acquired four Academy Awards. It was a fantastic achievement for the Coen brothers and the whole cast/crew. Oh, and the author was mentioned too. There he was, blip, a one-second clip of him among the nobodies. No, I'm not going to mention his name, per his request.

How is it so seemly for him to be sitting in the audience in relative obscurity? Maybe it's the pleasant, subtle possibility that someone can triumph for the sake of their creation itself without being the least bit motivated by the scourges of fame. As if the writing is actually worth something incalculable in currency. I can't prove that is the case, of course. Maybe it's just me, but I imagined him attending the ceremony in protest of the whole circus going on despite him and his writing...as if he lent a portion of his mind to Hollywood as a charity at great expense to himself, and in mild disdain for the inevitable hysteria.

Don't get me wrong...he's not that incredible. To giantize these individuals is an equal crime. These are regular humans and I believe they truly desire to be acknowledged as such. What would Hollywood be if not inversely proportional to these wonderful stoic figures. They don't desire to be on the cover of Slutbag Journal, Modern God, or Skanx Weekly. And, a part of them died when they saw "mental flo.." (I can't do it) on the front page of CNN. I am not ashamed to admit some are heroes of mine even if they would scoff at me for saying so. (They wouldn't be if they didn't).

So, when I saw the unspectacular figure among the sea of heads I did detect a bit of a shock wave rattle the bedrock. I might have golf clapped a bit if I had been there.