You know what this means don’t you?
You’re the reincarnation of Harry Dean Stanton.
But Harry’s still alive.
He’s an impostor.
It’s Paul McCartney all over again.
I have the uneasy feeling that god’s chuckling about this.
Surely this is all connected to the Mayans and 2012.
I was in Paris, Illinois once.
Graveyard Poet
Paris, Texas is probably my favorite film.
It wasn’t until the Criterion release of the film that I had an epiphany.
The title of the film originates with the main character’s own origin: he was conceived in Paris, Texas. What makes the film possibly my favorite in the history of cinema is its deep (yet simple and serene) exploration of birth, family, fate, and other existential themes evocatively expressed through the physical landscape of the American West and the emotional landscape of the characters.
I discovered, to my excitement, that there are parallels between Paris, Texas and my own origin:
The characters of the father, mother, and son share the same Zodiac signs as my father who raised me (Cancer), mother (Aquarius), and myself (Capricorn). My birthday is the day after Hunter Carson’s.
The haunting and nostalgic score by Ry Cooder was “conceived” when I was conceived: April 1984.
The spine number in the Criterion Collection is the time I was born: 5:01.