Today I walked to work in the rain. It was not pleasant. In fact, it sucked. Not to say it was the ultimate pits--I can think of a handful of things far, far worse than trudging a few blocks in the wet and grime. And yet even after the last of the storm clouds burned off and the sun tried peaking out, the rest of the day is still weighed down by sheer virtue of the fact that the top of the morning started under a brooding gloom. No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot look out onto the urban milieu right now and not see something more brittle, fetid and bordering on collapse than I would had mine person not been poured on.In that sense, watching Koyaanisqatsi: Life out of Balance (1982) is sort of like going about your day after having been caught in the rain. It wears on you, even after you've dried off. Everything's alive and moving in all 75 minutes of the narration-less tone poem, but you can't help but walk away with an impending sense of something like doom.
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And that's when the mushrooms kicked in:
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