Lipsett diaries

The cinema, and the art, in general as a simple material subjects, also follow the simple dialectic laws. And I believe it. I believe that all nature, from the smallest thing to the biggest, from a grain of sand to the sun, from the protista to man, is in a constant state of coming into being and going out of being, in a constant flux, in a ceaseless state of movement and change. And the development as a process, whereby insignificant and imperceptible quantitative changes lead to fundamental, qualitative changes. Which simply means - more films I do, there is always a certain point beyond the quality will be affected by the quantity. The only question is - where exactly is this point? Ant there, there is just a question of simple talent and intuition. And of course of the first law of the dialectic - is it there a contradiction, and opposition. There is no development without a conflict!

Long time ago, there was a boy. He had certain talents. At the age of 20 he did a film, a book, a musical piece. It even won an award! It was poignant, exploding, a “new talent is born” oeuvre! He became famous, everyone was talking about, and the boy achieved an unbelievable fame. The press, friends, fans, photographers, some money, restaurants, autographs, even free ice cream! He was appointed, flattered, invited… Bravo, very nice, very nice! … Bravo! Very nice! Very nice! Well, his next film/book/music was considered not so appealing. There were even bad critics. A, the critics! They love to play almighty gods, but it is ok… The public was bored, his works were considered kind of… imperfect, not clear enough, not easy to watch… The boy didn’t have the easiest character to deal with. The mediocre middle class doesn’t like flamboyance and the narcissists! Every next film, book, music was considered weaker, without a soul, no burning flame, no, no! The public, the critics stops to care anymore about him. Let’s face it,  there where not even bad critics! Not a single one! There were no critics at all! No friends as well. He had some enemies when he was famous- even the enemies disappeared! He stayed alone…

He disappeared, kind of… Doing more, and more, he knew that he is still able to do his best film, and everybody will say again - Bravo, very nice, very nice!…

Tried to get some grants to do another film, book, music - a great idea, his best, last film. Please, give me the last chance, I’m still able to do something interesting. No way, the public commissioners, producers, recording companies said. No one watches Your films, You are dead for us ( well, they didn’t say this, but instead of - one of those kind letters - “we wish You success in Your future… But no future was visible…

An he flew away.
He did his last work.

After that it was a long list. Of names.
You can write some names too, no?

The origin of evil is not in the uneducated, poor or tragedy life. It is in the total lack of empathy. Take the terrorists. They had balanced childhood and good education. Germans became Nazis in exactly the same way, by not being able to imagine someone else’s world. The paranoiac society builds fanatics. To be afraid of the difference builds the next alienated fanatics and fascists.
if I want to see the world, I have to accept that I won’t understand everything.

Identity is like speech. When a baby is born, it has the capacity to make several thousand different sounds. But to speak, it has to whittle them down to between 100 and 300, according to the language. The same principle applies to forging an identity. I must give up a thousand elements or dimensions which cannot be integrated into the person I want to be.
One out of two people has been or will be seriously traumatized at some time during their life (by war, violence, rape, cruelty, incest, etc.). One in four will experience at least two serious traumas. The rest are also bound to fall on some hard times. Yet the notion of resilience, which is a person’s ability to grow in the face of terrible problems, had not been scientifically studied until recently.

Today, it’s all the rage…

My enemies - the words. I always knew, that the noise around will kill me… If I was just capable not to talk so much, just to swallow the words, instead of throwing them out without any particular reason.

I don’t trust what I say anymore. I have no idea what is wrong or right, what is truth, what is lie. Do I even mean what I say or they are just words stumbling on their own…

I’m so sorry… Too late.