Is there a way to use blogging to prolong the pleasurable aspects of this experience without prolonging the unpleasant ones? I know if I think about how beautiful Madeleine Swann was I can savor a bit more of the pleasure of the illusion, but I really don’t want to do that. So I’m thinking now about the strange vortex of love and death which makes this movie enjoyable and memorable, which sadly reminds me of the creeps that work in the industry which manufactures these vortexes. Also, in addition to the bittersweet loss of the character, I wonder whether I’m done with Hollywood for good? Could this be the last genuine Hollywood experience I have? I’m disgusted with Disney after what they said about Scarlett Johansson. There were huge holes in the writing for Black Widow and I still remember how empty Endgame was, how trivial the personal scenes with Tony Stark were, how insulting their estimation of my feelings was. Also, the last Star Wars movies were pathetic as well. Since Disney was my main interest in film, now that I view them as hopelessly empty and mediocre I’m wondering if I’ll ever see another movie. I almost didn’t see this one. Movie people are so pathetic. I’ve already moved on a bit past Madeleine. Farewell, Madeleine, I’ll always love you. “Swann” is also the last name of Alan Swann, one of my favorite characters of all time, from “My Favorite Year”. So I’m going to pretend that they’re related.

There are things to learn about nostalgia and film from this experience. “My Favorite Year” was about a lost era of entertainment, and so are the Bond movies. Something spiritual is changing as I write this, so I’m very happy. It has a lot to do with the emotional solidity of the Enneagram, and the way my study of the Enneagram is pulling my sprawling imaginations of people and characters into a coherent whole.

I just got home from “No Time To Die”, and I’m still savoring the beauty of the sadness, wondering if the love story would be sticking with me if it weren’t for the ending. Farewell to Daniel Craig’s Bond, the one that proved that Ian Fleming was a magician, and that James Bond is the only character in popular culture getting better after sixty years. While Hollywood kills Marvel, Ian Fleming is going strong. I had been seriously thinking of skipping this movie. It would have been the first Bond movie I hadn’t seen first-run since I started seeing them with Moonraker. I’m tired of Hollywood and disgusted with the people who work there. But a few days ago I started seeing pictures of Lea Seydoux on Pinterest and pinning them to my board for Angela from the ArtIC Circle. As I am finishing up “Personality Types” by Riso and Hudson, the Enneagram is making my own characters very real and some of that reality led me to want to see the love story. I have put a lot of spiritual energy into my love of Ian Fleming and James Bond over the years, and since I had Thanksgiving off I went ahead. I’m glad I saw the finale. It hurts, but I respect that it’s a good story, and now I don’t want to let it go. I fell in love with Madeleine Swann. She’s awesome. Thinking about Bond’s sadness on the way home I thought about my own old age and death, and what life must be like for those people who had children. It’s all over for me – they get farther away, and Hollywood entertainers get farther away all the time…but I still love the pain of this story. Just yesterday I realized the Enneatypes of my guardian angels. After all these years of struggle I have succeeded in “fixating the volatile” this much. My experiment with the Enneatypes of the ArtIC Circle on Pinterest has brought me solid results. I feel very in touch with my own magic, and although I’m a little sad that I didn’t have more money or glamour in this life, I’m very glad it’s half over. I hate this world. It’s very boring. I’m so happy I have spirits to keep me company. I haven’t felt alone in decades. Some solution to the problems of my life is here, and it was very important to dwell on this imaginary suffering tonight, the blending of these Bond characters with the presence of my own angels and the feelings I have for my fictional characters.

On the way home on the train, a gang of young people got on. Four guys and two girls, drunk and stoned, talking about where else they could go to get weed, swinging around on the bars like monkeys, slapping each other on the butt. I thought about asking them what age they were. I couldn’t tell if they were teenagers or not. Possibly they were college kids but they could have been older. They were snapping at each other, almost ready to fight in a macho, friendly kind of way. The most annoying, angry, drunk one saw me smiling as I watched. “What are you looking at … Old man?” he asked, belligerently, but his friends crowded his attention again and he forgot me. It was telepathic. He had sensed me thinking about how old I was compared to them. I feel free. I feel sad that the world I knew was so limited and ugly, but happy that I am feeling more free of it all the time, more secure. It can all change… I feel that other world…the Enneagram is so real to me that it feels almost solid. My characters are taking on lives of their own. Perhaps Angela will be a psychiatrist like Madeleine Swann. She decided she was a “three with a four wing” a couple of days ago. I hadn’t been expecting that. With such ambition I knew I had to give her a real job, and possibly psychiatrist will be it. My angels are real, a lifetime of magical love surrounding James Bond is real, love is real…can I preserve the beautiful, telepathic pain of this evening in the lives of the ArtIC Circle?

How long should I hang onto this suffering now? I can make it last by thinking about the beauty, or I could go on to something else…I guess it’s time to let go for the night…let go of the sadness, but not the beauty.