I’m afraid that if you thought you were potentially entering an article detached from a world that’s gone bananas over Star Wars you’re mistaken, I went to see it today. At the risk of coming across like a thrift-store Sith Lord, today’s been a razor blade ticker tape parade. Over the past few months, when our schedules would allow, a few friends and I have been working our way through the previous six films in anticipation of the new release. Before the screening commenced on ‘Jedi night’ last Saturday, one of my friends casually announced that as fate would have it, he had a hospital appointment scheduled after the screening of ‘The Force Awakens’ to discuss a long running chronic complaint he’s been suffering since his early twenties. The upshot of this conversation was that a recent setback and hospitalisation had not been countered as well as medical professionals had hoped, and that beyond that unsuccessful course of action was a disconcerting lack of a plan. My friend said he was just looking forward to seeing Star Wars.
Sunday. Seven revolutions round the sun for our insignificant little orb. Circling our inevitable infernal-murderer. The Song Poem – Aural encapsulation of a delicate, all pervasive balancing act, evident throughout all God’s creation. Like so many things, it’s indicative of the eternal juxtaposition; Black and white. Sun and moon. Good and Evil. Cobra and Mongoose. While the Earth adheres to strict physical laws, Outer Space on the other hand, is a vastness more mysterious and chaotic the further away we get from our lowly point of origin. The known solar system is orchestrated precariously by forces unknown in a delicate cosmic ballet. Did you know that Pluto could one day abandon its erratic orbit and go hurtling off into space?