crime fiction is a genre of writing often thought of as trashy, throw away or pulp, yet there's something fundamentally profound about a good crime book, it's not the actual crime, its the dectectives relationship to it, the single heartedness pursuit for truth becomes a philosophical inquiry into reality, the nature of truth, making the unknown known. my fave dectective fictions are the ones that have evolved from deduction and logical inquiry, sherlock holmes was a fave when i was younger but as i evolved my tastes did to, and i found myself reading the more unusual dectective stories, ones where the protagonists are stunted by the logic, where rational deduction ceases and the solution or clues appear in the unconscious, dreams, synchronizing events or perhaps intuition. one of the best tv shows i ever saw was twin peaks, a long drawn out autopsy of a murder in a small american town, where the character's were all multi dimentional, facets of freud and jung penetrated the evening viewing as in weekly installments agent coopers investigation became more and more bizarre. At one point i recall he went into a field with a list of suspects, his assistant in tow.
''what you doing with that list agent cooper?'
'well i'm not really sure were to start, its a long list so sometimes you have to use other methods.'
agent cooper asks his assistant to place a bottle on a fence and move back.
with the bottle perched precariously on the wooden beam, agent cooper searches for a pile of rocks, when he has sufficient he asks his bemused assistant to read of the names on the list, throwing a rock at the bottle for every name, when eventually he hits the bottle, he goes of to interrogate the corresponding name.
this type of surrender to choas is almost quite metaphysical, in the sense that implications abound beyond sensory evaluation, it's almost as if the brain is short circuited and bypassed, now, the series of suspects is under random scrutiny. the psychic censor is smashed. i think that if one invests trust within the universe, this can be god / goddess/ doa / vishnu / christ whatever your chosen belief at the time, and your body and mind is in league with your belief the truth always surfaces. one can argue this is an external issue that involves powers beyond human or one can say that the unconcious does sterr your reality, or one can deny these and call it luck. i don't believe in luck any more, everything happens becuase it happens, people don't die unless you are concious they are dead. for example my grandmother was alive for me until my mother rang me to tell me she had died. this can be seen as ignorance or denial but it corallates to the shrodingers cat theory, it's the observers reality, ignorance would be to disbelieve my mother and continue as if my grandmother is alive. truth is connecting the dots, seeing the patterns, reading the map that is not a map, see the poem in the mundane, seeing the micro in the macro and macro in micro, its the way the shaman take, its the way the magickian take, it's the way of gods.
anyways my fave dectective film is 'blade runner'
a brilliant execution of a great book, the film that shows the point where the human looses its humanity and the machine gains its own. pure brillance, there's an amazing twist on the directors cut, the only directors version that's shorter than the origional.
other revelutionary dectective films, well angel heart touches something close to genus. robert de niro plays the ultimate villan in a truely origional way.

one the way to work i am driving along the parkway, halfway there a white vertical zip/ streak of light flashes across the sky, a shooting star, make a wish, its beautiful.