I suppose I will give a bit of detail on what's been taking up much of my time until lately. As for the length, I make no promises. Anyhow, I'm taking three classes in this BU L.A. Internship Program. They just wouldn't let me out of them. They are useful classes, but after successfully completing my degree requirements, it is annoying to have superfluous (so far as grades are concerned) classes have an influence on whether I receive my degree. Though they are three in number, the classes are not taking up all that much of my time right now because I've been neglecting the work I should be doing for them.
My internship at Muse Productions was the biggest time draw. It involves faxing, taking calls, making calls, printing and copying screenplays, and many other general office tasks, including reading material that is in development. That last bit is what got me involved with Mama Black Widow.
Mama Black Widow is an adaptation of a novel of the same name written by the notorious pimp, Iceberg Slim. It essentially tells the tale of a sharecropping black family that moves to Chicago in the 1930s, believing it to be a promised land. Things are not as the family imagines, and they are faced with tragedy of many kinds by their tale's end. The book has its faults, but the underlying story is sound, and the roles have great potential for actors to showcase their emotional range.
I logged 72 hours (there could have been and probably were more that I neglected to log) of work outside of my regularly scheduled internship time preparing reference books for the screenplay adaptation. For this, I broke down the screenplay by scene, which characters appear in that scene, a brief description of what transpires in the scene, and in which chapter and on what page said events appear in the book. I, then, pulled pages from a copy of the book's manuscript and highlighted the portions of each page to show what was used in the screenplay. The collections of pages were labeled with screenplay scene heading and screenplay page number and collected with the breakdown table, highlighted pages, and a copy of the screenplay into a binder for reference.
It was a good bit of work, but I do know the story very well now. All I have left to do is figure out how to list this on my résumé.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
What's Happened?
My template looks like it's missing, but the code is still there. Why, Google? Why must my posts now look horrible just because I don't now have the time to learn XML and adapt the old template to the new format? Will anyone read my tirades on glamping and suburban living if they look like an eight year old posted them?
Find out the answers next time when I actually might have time to answer them.
Find out the answers next time when I actually might have time to answer them.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Catchings Up II
Aside from hauling my things across the country on my way to L.A. for a BU internship program, I had the opportunity to promote enflight.com at EAA's AirVenture expo in Oshkosh, WI. I spent the vast majority of my time working, but in between I ate some decent food (Li Yang's had surprisingly good Chinese food [to my palate], Fratello's had some good microbrews [the blueberry went quite well with salad, and their porter and stout were very tasty] and the crab cakes were good, and the beef carpaccio salad at the Water City Grill was lovely) and saw a few things worth mentioning.
When I wasn't working or engaged in admiring the food I was eating or, in a manner I'm certain is nowhere near as subtle as I'd like, the physical attributes of those serving it, I caught a little bit of the airshows at AirVenture. F-15s opened the expo, flying about at 0900, waking those camping who had not yet risen. There were many bi-planes at the ends of the days. They were fun to watch for a short time, but the repetitive movements of their routines precluded long term viewing.
In the last few days of the show, different planes made appearances. There were F-86s, amongst others, flying around performing simulated bombing runs complete with imitation bomb hits. The F-117A is surprisingly quiet even at very low altitude and makes quite the intimidating profile in the air. The F-22 was rather impressive to my novice eye. It would fly about rather quickly with afterburners going, then slow down appreciably, maneuver the nose up ninety degrees, engage the afterburner, and climb quite far. The pilot also nestled the F-22 in behind the wing of a P-52 for a pass.
On a completely side note, because it just happened to occur right here, I thought I'd mention that I had the opportunity to play with an iPhone while demonstrating enflight. The iPhone is a rather slick little device. The ease with which screen magnification is achieved or the transition from full to wide screen was entertaining.
They screened a number of aviation related films at AirVenture on a very large, inflatable, outdoor screen. The night I attended, they were showing Apollo 13. I've seen the movie before and felt it to be well done for what it was, but not enough to drag me out into a summer night in Wisconsin (often quite humid and not too pleasant from what I recall). This screening, however, was to be introduced by Jim Lovell himself. Why wouldn't I go to that?
When I say introduced I mean someone asked him relatively inane questions to which Lovell gave answers. He said a lot of things, but I only really recall a few. He stated that he, Fred Haise, and Jack Swigert didn't put all of the best stuff over the radio recordings because they thought it would make a good movie some day if they survived.
There was the tiresome "How do you use the bathroom in space?" question. The reply was more entertaining than expected. Lovell had been around for the testing of the initial prototypes and told us that the first one had basically been a can with a hose on one end that used air pressure to pull the contents of the can out the other side. Before anything gets used in space, it first has to be tested by test engineers in the Vomit Comet. The word from the test engineers on the first prototypes was negative. NASA eventually found one it liked, and Lovell and Frank Borman (if I'm recalling which mission it was) had the honor of field testing it. According to Lovell, the conversation went something like: "I think it's that time Jim." "Can't you wait another nine days?"
He talked of meeting with Ron Howard and Tom Hanks to discuss making a film of the book he and Jeffrey Kluger wrote. As he was leaving the meeting, Hanks caught up to him and asked when he could study Lovell so he could more accurately portray him on film. A date was set for Hanks to fly to an airport near Lovell's home in Texas. Lovell met Hanks there and flew them back to his house. He made sure the typically 30 minute trip took one and one half hours while he hearkened back to his test pilot days to perform some aerobatics, figuring if Hanks was going to play him on screen, he should at least have a little idea of what the test piloting experience is like. That and it was just fun to spring that sort of thing on an unsuspecting actor.
While in Oshkosh, I missed the opportunity to see a show in Madison with my friends Laura and Brian because I did not have access to my own rental car. That is more unfortunate than it might sound as I have no idea when I might make it near enough Indiana to say hello. I took some decent photos of cloud formations on my flight back, though.
That about catches everything up. I think. Maybe. I can't remember really, so this will do. Colorado is as it was, for the most part. I just have to remember to get out and enjoy some of it while I'm trying to accomplish home-based things.
When I wasn't working or engaged in admiring the food I was eating or, in a manner I'm certain is nowhere near as subtle as I'd like, the physical attributes of those serving it, I caught a little bit of the airshows at AirVenture. F-15s opened the expo, flying about at 0900, waking those camping who had not yet risen. There were many bi-planes at the ends of the days. They were fun to watch for a short time, but the repetitive movements of their routines precluded long term viewing.
In the last few days of the show, different planes made appearances. There were F-86s, amongst others, flying around performing simulated bombing runs complete with imitation bomb hits. The F-117A is surprisingly quiet even at very low altitude and makes quite the intimidating profile in the air. The F-22 was rather impressive to my novice eye. It would fly about rather quickly with afterburners going, then slow down appreciably, maneuver the nose up ninety degrees, engage the afterburner, and climb quite far. The pilot also nestled the F-22 in behind the wing of a P-52 for a pass.
On a completely side note, because it just happened to occur right here, I thought I'd mention that I had the opportunity to play with an iPhone while demonstrating enflight. The iPhone is a rather slick little device. The ease with which screen magnification is achieved or the transition from full to wide screen was entertaining.
They screened a number of aviation related films at AirVenture on a very large, inflatable, outdoor screen. The night I attended, they were showing Apollo 13. I've seen the movie before and felt it to be well done for what it was, but not enough to drag me out into a summer night in Wisconsin (often quite humid and not too pleasant from what I recall). This screening, however, was to be introduced by Jim Lovell himself. Why wouldn't I go to that?
When I say introduced I mean someone asked him relatively inane questions to which Lovell gave answers. He said a lot of things, but I only really recall a few. He stated that he, Fred Haise, and Jack Swigert didn't put all of the best stuff over the radio recordings because they thought it would make a good movie some day if they survived.
There was the tiresome "How do you use the bathroom in space?" question. The reply was more entertaining than expected. Lovell had been around for the testing of the initial prototypes and told us that the first one had basically been a can with a hose on one end that used air pressure to pull the contents of the can out the other side. Before anything gets used in space, it first has to be tested by test engineers in the Vomit Comet. The word from the test engineers on the first prototypes was negative. NASA eventually found one it liked, and Lovell and Frank Borman (if I'm recalling which mission it was) had the honor of field testing it. According to Lovell, the conversation went something like: "I think it's that time Jim." "Can't you wait another nine days?"
He talked of meeting with Ron Howard and Tom Hanks to discuss making a film of the book he and Jeffrey Kluger wrote. As he was leaving the meeting, Hanks caught up to him and asked when he could study Lovell so he could more accurately portray him on film. A date was set for Hanks to fly to an airport near Lovell's home in Texas. Lovell met Hanks there and flew them back to his house. He made sure the typically 30 minute trip took one and one half hours while he hearkened back to his test pilot days to perform some aerobatics, figuring if Hanks was going to play him on screen, he should at least have a little idea of what the test piloting experience is like. That and it was just fun to spring that sort of thing on an unsuspecting actor.
While in Oshkosh, I missed the opportunity to see a show in Madison with my friends Laura and Brian because I did not have access to my own rental car. That is more unfortunate than it might sound as I have no idea when I might make it near enough Indiana to say hello. I took some decent photos of cloud formations on my flight back, though.
That about catches everything up. I think. Maybe. I can't remember really, so this will do. Colorado is as it was, for the most part. I just have to remember to get out and enjoy some of it while I'm trying to accomplish home-based things.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Someone Should have Told..
Rowan Joffe, Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, Jesus Olmo, and Enrique Lopez Lavigne that I should be spending this online space on something more than poopoo-ing the movie they wrote, and directed in the case of Fresnadillo. It could also have been the fault(s) of Bernard Bellew, Danny Boyle, Alex Garland, Andrew Macdonald, or Allon Reich. I'm just imagining a development meeting that went something like:
Yes, I'm referring to 28 Weeks Later, and this entire post is riddled with spoilers. If you intend to see the movie, and knowing certain details will ruin it for you, stop reading now.
I didn't think I'd like it based on the trailers, but I went to see it with some friends anyway. The opening sequence was rather good, and I started to reconsider my initial scepticism. Perhaps it was just a bad trailer.
Alas, the slow start to a downhill descent happened not much later. After intertitles inform us that X weeks after the outbreak in the UK the infected died of starvation and Y weeks after that a US led NATO force comes in to clean up, we see some cleaning up and a shot of a lone young woman in a t-shirt and b.d.u. bottoms standing in the glass of a very quiet airport. A plane has arrived and is offloading the repopulators. Surveying these people, the woman speaks over her radio something to the effect of, "No one told me we were letting in children." Great, the trailer didn't lie to me.
The military is in control of London with bored snipers on the rooftops (the infected have all starved off after all), fully armed men guarding the gates to the city and on patrol in the streets, helicopters overhead, and machine gun emplacements. The only known safe place is Zone 1 (or whatever they called it) with this heavy military presence, running water, electricity, &c. Outside of that, there's still the danger of the odd infected person still being alive, and even if that isn't a danger, there are still all sorts of bodies and organic material that needs cleaning up before repopulation. *gasp* This couldn't possibly be an allegory for the "Green Zone" in Iraq could it?
We see the kids joyous reunion with dad, and the tearful revelation that their mother was the histrionic killed in the opening sequence. But wait, the kids sneak past the gates (they are seen by a sniper who sends a helicopter to follow them) to retrieve their favourite things from their old home. What of their most favourite things do they find there? Why, their mother of course. It turns out she's infected, but genetic abnormalities keep her asymptomatic.
"SAVE THE CHILDREN" doctor woman wants to keep her alive for study and a possible cure to the infection. Why the research into a cure couldn't be done with computer records of the infection's construction and materials that would inevitably be found in computer records from the lab that created it is beyond me. At any rate, the NATO commander prefers to kill her and let the doctor examine the body for her answers.
Somehow, an unspecified amount of time passes between the commander's decision to kill the woman and when it actually would have happened. The kids' father uses his all access pass to see his wife, becomes infected, then we're back in the zombie movie. The doctor retrieves the children in a desperate attempt to get them to safety, since she's obsessed with the curative potential contained in their possible genetic abnormalities.
The civilians are herded into isolation pens and are repeatedly told it's "for their safety." I think we're supposed to feel confused and/or outraged, but it only makes sense in the event of an outbreak. Of course this set-up is too perfect and, predictably, the dad with the all access card finds his way into one of these secure areas. Cue all hell breaking loose.
The soldiers are instructed to kill the infected only, but it is understandably difficult to tell sprinting, crazed, killer zombie from sprinting, insanely frightened civilian. The order comes down to kill everything not in uniform, as it should. Really, isn't it better that they go quickly with a bullet than being torn apart by zombie teeth or becoming infected and doing something similar to their friends and loved ones?
So, it seems we're supposed to feel the killing of the civilians is not the correct action just like the sniper, the same one who spotted the kids on their way to their old home earlier, becomes another "SAVE THE CHILDREN" guy after getting the little boy in his cross hairs. He turns prototypical action hero and tries to lead a group of civilians, who barricaded themselves in building, to relative safety outside the killing zone. The doctor and two kids are among this group.
There's been too much exposition already, so, long story short, stuff happens, they run from the infected and kill some others, they run from the military, doctor gives super crap line "their lives are worth more than mine... or yours" with reference to the genetic curative potential, there's a very Silence of the Lambs gun sight and night vision bit. Also, because the doctor didn't see fit to share with the kids that they could possibly be infected but asymptomatic and contagious, the boy becomes infected, shares his mother's genetic bit, is evacuated with his sister, and infects France.
See, if only they'd 'THINK OF THE CHILDREN,' Europe, Asia, and Africa could have been saved! The safe zone is only safe if your personnel remain uninfected. Given the choice between shooting civilians, including children, or letting insurgents run free, choose the latter.
Oh, wait. Wow, my thinking about this whole thing was so uptight. Let's look for less surface messages. Everything was going well enough with the reclamation of London, supermarkets and a pub and such, until an insider fraternized with an infected. So, with better psychological testing during the vetting process, this avenue of infection into the safe zone could approach elimination.
Once the infectious agent is introduced in to the populace, its containment and elimination should be top priority. If containment is impossible there are two options: eliminate the population and thereby the infection, or allow the infection to run its course, leading to the situation before NATO's arrival of a few survivors and starved off infected. The first option seems more humane because the death will probably be less painful, but the second offers less moral dilemma for the individual soldier. Anyhow, the 'THINK OF THE CHILDREN' crowd actively try to subvert actions that are not only in their own best interests, but in the best interests of the world. These people annoy me to no end and lead to bad legislation here in the real world, I am pleased with their vilification here.
Well, this new look shows a little more subtlety and a subversiveness (as far as it seems to be generally regarded that shooting civilians is always a bad thing) in the movie than I had thought there. The fanatical humanitarianism of the 'SAVE THE CHILDREN' characters does nothing but kill off a very large portion of the world's population (While this is the only solution I see to effectively moving human population back to a sustainable living arrangement, the film doesn't seem to see it as a good thing). That's quite an indictment.
I might just have to change my opinion on this one. I'm definitely with my new interpretation. Let's give the finger to the 'WON'T ANYONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN' people.
Oh, and to finally see a helicopter used as a weapon in a zombie movie was rather nice. I mean seriously, it's a giant lawnmower asking for heads to chop off. Why did it take so long, or why haven't I discovered the movies in which it was previously used?
1st Person Responsible: Hey, why don't we make a thinly veiled allegory of the war on terrorism and the situation in Iraq?
2nd Person Responsible: Sounds good, but how will we illustrate the difficulty in determining terrorist from civilian on the ground?
3rd Person Responsible: Remember that movie 28 Days Later? It'd be pretty hard to tell who was infected and who wasn't if everyone were running around like crazy.
4th Person Responsible: Yeah, and we can make a big deal about there being kids involved so we can get interest from the "WON'T ANYONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!?!?" crowd.
All Together: Perfect!
Yes, I'm referring to 28 Weeks Later, and this entire post is riddled with spoilers. If you intend to see the movie, and knowing certain details will ruin it for you, stop reading now.
I didn't think I'd like it based on the trailers, but I went to see it with some friends anyway. The opening sequence was rather good, and I started to reconsider my initial scepticism. Perhaps it was just a bad trailer.
Alas, the slow start to a downhill descent happened not much later. After intertitles inform us that X weeks after the outbreak in the UK the infected died of starvation and Y weeks after that a US led NATO force comes in to clean up, we see some cleaning up and a shot of a lone young woman in a t-shirt and b.d.u. bottoms standing in the glass of a very quiet airport. A plane has arrived and is offloading the repopulators. Surveying these people, the woman speaks over her radio something to the effect of, "No one told me we were letting in children." Great, the trailer didn't lie to me.
The military is in control of London with bored snipers on the rooftops (the infected have all starved off after all), fully armed men guarding the gates to the city and on patrol in the streets, helicopters overhead, and machine gun emplacements. The only known safe place is Zone 1 (or whatever they called it) with this heavy military presence, running water, electricity, &c. Outside of that, there's still the danger of the odd infected person still being alive, and even if that isn't a danger, there are still all sorts of bodies and organic material that needs cleaning up before repopulation. *gasp* This couldn't possibly be an allegory for the "Green Zone" in Iraq could it?
We see the kids joyous reunion with dad, and the tearful revelation that their mother was the histrionic killed in the opening sequence. But wait, the kids sneak past the gates (they are seen by a sniper who sends a helicopter to follow them) to retrieve their favourite things from their old home. What of their most favourite things do they find there? Why, their mother of course. It turns out she's infected, but genetic abnormalities keep her asymptomatic.
"SAVE THE CHILDREN" doctor woman wants to keep her alive for study and a possible cure to the infection. Why the research into a cure couldn't be done with computer records of the infection's construction and materials that would inevitably be found in computer records from the lab that created it is beyond me. At any rate, the NATO commander prefers to kill her and let the doctor examine the body for her answers.
Somehow, an unspecified amount of time passes between the commander's decision to kill the woman and when it actually would have happened. The kids' father uses his all access pass to see his wife, becomes infected, then we're back in the zombie movie. The doctor retrieves the children in a desperate attempt to get them to safety, since she's obsessed with the curative potential contained in their possible genetic abnormalities.
The civilians are herded into isolation pens and are repeatedly told it's "for their safety." I think we're supposed to feel confused and/or outraged, but it only makes sense in the event of an outbreak. Of course this set-up is too perfect and, predictably, the dad with the all access card finds his way into one of these secure areas. Cue all hell breaking loose.
The soldiers are instructed to kill the infected only, but it is understandably difficult to tell sprinting, crazed, killer zombie from sprinting, insanely frightened civilian. The order comes down to kill everything not in uniform, as it should. Really, isn't it better that they go quickly with a bullet than being torn apart by zombie teeth or becoming infected and doing something similar to their friends and loved ones?
So, it seems we're supposed to feel the killing of the civilians is not the correct action just like the sniper, the same one who spotted the kids on their way to their old home earlier, becomes another "SAVE THE CHILDREN" guy after getting the little boy in his cross hairs. He turns prototypical action hero and tries to lead a group of civilians, who barricaded themselves in building, to relative safety outside the killing zone. The doctor and two kids are among this group.
There's been too much exposition already, so, long story short, stuff happens, they run from the infected and kill some others, they run from the military, doctor gives super crap line "their lives are worth more than mine... or yours" with reference to the genetic curative potential, there's a very Silence of the Lambs gun sight and night vision bit. Also, because the doctor didn't see fit to share with the kids that they could possibly be infected but asymptomatic and contagious, the boy becomes infected, shares his mother's genetic bit, is evacuated with his sister, and infects France.
See, if only they'd 'THINK OF THE CHILDREN,' Europe, Asia, and Africa could have been saved! The safe zone is only safe if your personnel remain uninfected. Given the choice between shooting civilians, including children, or letting insurgents run free, choose the latter.
Oh, wait. Wow, my thinking about this whole thing was so uptight. Let's look for less surface messages. Everything was going well enough with the reclamation of London, supermarkets and a pub and such, until an insider fraternized with an infected. So, with better psychological testing during the vetting process, this avenue of infection into the safe zone could approach elimination.
Once the infectious agent is introduced in to the populace, its containment and elimination should be top priority. If containment is impossible there are two options: eliminate the population and thereby the infection, or allow the infection to run its course, leading to the situation before NATO's arrival of a few survivors and starved off infected. The first option seems more humane because the death will probably be less painful, but the second offers less moral dilemma for the individual soldier. Anyhow, the 'THINK OF THE CHILDREN' crowd actively try to subvert actions that are not only in their own best interests, but in the best interests of the world. These people annoy me to no end and lead to bad legislation here in the real world, I am pleased with their vilification here.
Well, this new look shows a little more subtlety and a subversiveness (as far as it seems to be generally regarded that shooting civilians is always a bad thing) in the movie than I had thought there. The fanatical humanitarianism of the 'SAVE THE CHILDREN' characters does nothing but kill off a very large portion of the world's population (While this is the only solution I see to effectively moving human population back to a sustainable living arrangement, the film doesn't seem to see it as a good thing). That's quite an indictment.
I might just have to change my opinion on this one. I'm definitely with my new interpretation. Let's give the finger to the 'WON'T ANYONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN' people.
Oh, and to finally see a helicopter used as a weapon in a zombie movie was rather nice. I mean seriously, it's a giant lawnmower asking for heads to chop off. Why did it take so long, or why haven't I discovered the movies in which it was previously used?
Thursday, May 03, 2007
All Done?
So... if all's well, I have finished with my graduate studies. I'm still awaiting grades, but I should have earned an MFA. Now, I'm just waiting on word of whether I've been accepted into a university run internship program. If not, I'll be working some crap jobs until I figure out what I can get.
On the bright side, we had the great pleasure of filling out course evaluations for the worst professor I've ever had today. I typed up a supplement to the questions because my answers were too long to write in a timely fashion, and I doubted I would remember all of my sentiments. It just so happens I was correct: I did not save the supplement, and I've forgotten the wording.
As best as I can recall, it contained some of the following:
I think those were the main points. It had quite a bit more text and was, perhaps, much better worded. I am pleased I, as far as I know, coined the term sycophantastic and hope to see it, with proper attribution, used in the future.
Edit: I just did some searching, and, sadly, I am not the coiner of the term. I apparently need to get out more.
On the bright side, we had the great pleasure of filling out course evaluations for the worst professor I've ever had today. I typed up a supplement to the questions because my answers were too long to write in a timely fashion, and I doubted I would remember all of my sentiments. It just so happens I was correct: I did not save the supplement, and I've forgotten the wording.
As best as I can recall, it contained some of the following:
- The instructor failed to adequately explain concepts through inconsistency and incomprehensibility. For example, he would admonish against "doing psychology" while at the same time asking what a character in a film was feeling.
- The instructor was quite willing to entertain debate if said debate did not stray from his preconceived notions. Should it stray, he would condescend to the student who held the differing opinion and quickly move on to another topic.
- I have not done extensive searching, but I believe I coined the term 'sycophantastic' when taking up the question of this instructor's treatment of students. He treats his sycophantastic students and auditors well, lavishing them with praise. The others are, as mentioned above, condescended to or discounted entirely.
- On a related note, his grading is far from fair. I believe I will receive a moderately good grade because I spewed out whatever drivel he wished to hear by using careful notes to get as far into his head as I could stomach. Others who had more integrity, spoke their own ideas and were penalized for it. This could have something to do with his stated belief that there are "right" and "wrong" interpretations of films and other works of art.
- The worst part of the course was the instructor. The course could be improved if it were taught by a different instructor who was more willing to entertain opposing views.
I think those were the main points. It had quite a bit more text and was, perhaps, much better worded. I am pleased I, as far as I know, coined the term sycophantastic and hope to see it, with proper attribution, used in the future.
Edit: I just did some searching, and, sadly, I am not the coiner of the term. I apparently need to get out more.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
This Filthy World
I just got back in from seeing John Waters' one man show, "This Filthy World." It was great, and I wish I would have known last week that three seats for the seminar he'll be doing tomorrow morning would open up. I could have asked for the day off. Instead, I'll be outside the city having not nearly as much fun. I should go into far more detail, but those won't be fully imprinted until I've reminisced far too many times with fellow attendees. Among the highlights was learning that one of his favorite directors, if not his absolute favorite, is Joseph Losey who, if I haven't already mentioned my affinity for his work here, is also on my short list. My friend Devon intends to ask him about Boom tomorrow; he should also mention Secret Ceremony.
Other highlights:
I also have three new goals in life thanks to John Waters (listed in order of likelihood):
With three new goals for life, I'd say this evening went rather well.
Other highlights:
I learned what a blossom is in certain vernacular circles.
A lovely idea for getting your young girls to stay away from pregnancy.
An awesome quote I think I'll muddle, but someone will correct me. He mentioned Michael Jackson and how Jackson has a burn unit in his house that is full of children. We were asked to imagine being a child in that burn unit, looking up at a little window and "seeing Michael Jackson up there dressed like Joan Crawford. He comes down the stairs and stands next to you, 'Does it hurt? Would you like some ointment?' And he pulls out his flaccid, polka-dotted penis and drops an oily load on your leg." How can you beat imagery like that?
I also have three new goals in life thanks to John Waters (listed in order of likelihood):
1. Touch myself while voting.
2. Have sex on Waters' grave.
3. Steal John Waters' body.
With three new goals for life, I'd say this evening went rather well.
Further Musings
I really don't intend to post everything that runs through my head as I sit in this one particular class, but I wrote wrote out far too much today to leave it moulder in my notebook. I'm sure I've used some of the words incorrectly, but I don't quite care right now.
What wonders will spring forth in the coming class meetings?
How could there possibly be limits to interpretation? Certainly, there can be arguments over elements intentionally included in a work. If a film, book, poem, musical composition, &c. was made long beforehand, it doesn't follow that links or allusions to World War II, for example, are intentionally placed within the work, but that hardly negates the possibility of a viewer/listener having various links appear in its mind. Because all interpretation is subjective, any "right" or "wrong" interpretations are only able to be defined so through the imposition of an artificial, arbitrary framework of cognitive restrictions by an authoritarian body whose continued importance and existence is contingent on the maintenance and continued longevity of these structures.
There is no "wrong" interpretation. When asking if a work of art can erect boundaries within which interpretation is valid while anything outside is not, there is a conflation of two separate elements: what is intentionally placed within the work by the artist(s), and the way said artist(s) desire for the work to be interpreted, and what the observer experiences upon contact with the work. It would be exceedingly silly to suggest some wildly divergent element was expressly included in the work if it is not in the artist's (immediate?) frame of reference and experience. However, what is experienced by the viewer is dependent upon said viewer's own frame of reference and experience, and this cannot be quantified for all possible viewers. It stands to reason that there can be no wrong interpretation in this territory.
To say that the filmmaker intended for an element of the film to evoke the idea of pedophilia can be wrong. To say that viewing an element of the film evoked in one or more viewers the idea of pedophilia cannot.
Side note: I'm sorry to break it to you professor, but "correct" interpretation is defined by the current hegemony of one's discipline and not by something inherent in the material being interpreted.
What wonders will spring forth in the coming class meetings?
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Classroom Musings
While sitting in class this morning, we were treated with a speech on why the professor feels he failed the class because we were not reacting in the proper manner to the stupendously wonderful art that is Mark Rappaport's Scenic Routs. He was so disheartened by this turn of events, he felt that we needed something "easier" to work with. During the speech, he declared that ideas are not (in) film, they are a resistance mechanism employed because we are frightened of the dangerous implications of the artwork. The following is what sprang to my mind and was written during the speech (a bit of rewording has been done; it's a second draft):
Last week, was this:
Are they pompous? Possibly. Pretensious? Probably. Make sense? Maybe?
At least it's therapeutic enough to prevent assault each day when I realize I'm paying for the mostly wasted time I spend in that class?
<Professor's name> says he's not teaching ideas but shaping students' perceptual apparatuses. However, if one shapes the apparatus of perception, is that not teaching ideas by proxy since it is by way of what and how we perceive that information is processed and interpreted, resulting in the formation of ideas, values, and tendencies? I should answer in the positive. Stating you seek to shape the interpretive apparatuses of the students is simply a circuitous method of stating you seek to instill within the students a mindset conducive to their ideas and values echoing your own. It is different from teaching ideas in that it is almost more insidious because the perceptual apparatus is not a pre-formed thought structure or filter that is easily recognised by those who use it and just as easily discarded. Instead, it is like a sort of genetic parasite that weaves its way into the perceptual filters constructed by its student hosts when they seek to find their own way. Certainly, other forces act in a similar manner, but they will often own their part (i.e. parents, religious leaders, &c.) rather than act an innocent party.*
* Some exceptions apply (i.e. governments).
Last week, was this:
Because art, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, the designation of a work as art is quite subjective. Designations of greater or lesser value to art become doubly so. As such, the only definite right or wrong answers to questions about art are those your instructor wishes to hear. The same holds true for interpretive issues as well.
Are they pompous? Possibly. Pretensious? Probably. Make sense? Maybe?
At least it's therapeutic enough to prevent assault each day when I realize I'm paying for the mostly wasted time I spend in that class?
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
'Stache
This past weekend, I was part of a team making a short for Campus MovieFest. I don't know about everyone else, but I had a great time. We came up with the scenario on Tuesday: A Luchador is fired from a realestate job because taking off the mask is unthinkable. Wandering dejected, the luchador passes a down-and-out gorilla and banana when a clown snatches the mask away. Horror fills the luchador until a Burt Reynolds type moustache is seen on the ground. It finds its way to her face, and we see her successful next to a picture of the man himself. Could there be a more awesome movie in the contest? I don't think so.
It took a good bit of time to edit, and the scoring went badly enough that we had it scored by someone else, but I have to say that assisting with the editing was a good bit of fun. I'd like to do more of it. I wish I would have known someone who was participating in this (BU doesn't) last year; it would have been a good time.
I've still not seen the finished product, and I'm quite eager. At any rate, joining the The Okie made me do it film cooperative was a very welcome break from the putrefaction of joy brought about by incessant analysis of films along stultifying lines of argument ridden into the ground long ago like a bomb between the legs of Maj. T.J. Kong.
It took a good bit of time to edit, and the scoring went badly enough that we had it scored by someone else, but I have to say that assisting with the editing was a good bit of fun. I'd like to do more of it. I wish I would have known someone who was participating in this (BU doesn't) last year; it would have been a good time.
I've still not seen the finished product, and I'm quite eager. At any rate, joining the The Okie made me do it film cooperative was a very welcome break from the putrefaction of joy brought about by incessant analysis of films along stultifying lines of argument ridden into the ground long ago like a bomb between the legs of Maj. T.J. Kong.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Die Große Stille Part 2: Back to the Monastery
And the Lord passed by.
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart
and shattered the rocks before the Lord,
but the Lord was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake,
but the Lord was not in the earthquake.
After the earthquake came a fire,
but the Lord was not in the fire.
And after the fire came a gentle whisper.
1 Kings 19, 11-13
For a sort of introduction/background on this movie see my previous post on this film, my friend Devon's review, or the official website for the film. Also, I know the stills are small. If I find larger promo shots, I'll replace them.
I had the distinct pleasure of viewing this film for a second time on a cinema screen at the Harvard Film Archive, and as I sit here enjoying the order's namesake libation, I feel the overwhelming desire to put fingers to keyboard that I may lay down here further viewing notes, or what I like to call a sort of review.
On this second viewing, I found myself even more captivated than the first. I began noticing many small details I had missed the first time around. The framing of the human body echoing the topography of the mountains around the monastery and the architecture of the monks' chapel. The film's tendency to place ears in a prominent position, seeming to suggest the silence observed by these men allow them to hear something we cannot. Subtle nuances of shadow gradients down long corridors changing ever so slightly over the duration of a shot. Becoming more aware of how much each of the monks says to us during his close-up without saying a word. The many textures of water presented that I had overlooked. I believe I would be hard pressed to find a writer to do justice to the imagery and the emotional content it conveyed. I am certainly not up to the task.
Seeing the monks again was like seeing old friends. Following tonight's viewing I found myself feeling a sort of peace. I also had a very strong desire to watch the movie again. Despite seeing most, if not all, of what I had seen before, and noticing volumes more than I had previously seen, there was so much that I am certain I missed.
For those of you who may be reading this sometime recent to when it's posted, and that are close to New York (this means you, Brandon), I highly recommend seeing this movie. Well, so long as it seems to be your sort of thing. If not, please, please, please do something else. Don't be like the annoying girl two rows in front of me with her mobile phone open, texting or whatever she was doing and bothering those close enough behind her to see the blue glow of the phone's lcd screen.
Anyway, those of you near New York for whom a three hour, nearly silent, meditative delving into the life of an ascetic clerical order sounds appealing are in luck. This movie is scheduled to be playing at Film Forum 209 W. Houston St. in NYC from February 23 through March 13. Show times are listed as 13:15, 17:30, and 20:30. If I summon the wherewithal, you might just see me at one of the screenings.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
New Year's
New Year's Eve rolled around again, as it tends to do periodically, and we indulged in a more recent family tradition. A few years ago, the fast food chain Chick-fil-a began selling calendars with coupons for their products inside. The coupons for December were for a free small brownie tray with the purchase of a large chicken nugget tray. As Chick-fil-a nuggets are very tasty, and my dad would not pass up using such a coupon once he had it, we got the tray of nuggets for New Year's. It lasted for at least a week afterward (roughly 250 come on a large tray). Despite the incentive turning from a brownie tray to a gallon of tea, we have continued to get a nugget tray for New Year's.
The nuggets this year, as usual, were quite enjoyable. My parents stayed in for the evening and caught the small fireworks display that appears annually at the top of the mountain. I rang in the new year with a large number of friends and acquaintances at a bar called the Metropolitan. It was a decent enough place. The garlic-chipotle stuffed olives made for an interesting flavor in the gin martinis. I also found out that I had won a friend over to the Ciroc vodka camp (If you're looking for quality vodka, Ciroc is where it's at). The hostess ended up being the waitress for our group, and she did rather well accomodating us. The night was relatively uneventful, except for Karl losing his phone and the guy who found it being kind enough to call one of the numbers in it to arrange its return, and around 01:00 we adjourned.
I got to work with Forrest again at kung fu class again on the first. He's a really good guy, and it looks like some good things could be lining up for him soon. If things work out, I'd be quite happy for him; they couldn't happen to a better person.
I've forgotten most of what I did between the first and the fifth, so we'll just leave that bit out. I think sudoku was involved in there somewhere though. Anyway, there was a get together to be attended on the fifth with more friends I don't run into nearly enough either online or off. It had snowed a little more in the mean time, so I wasn't taking any chances, what with being somewhat rusty at driving after nearly a year with no practice, and decided to make it a dry evening. It was fun seeing everyone and bonding with John and Christina over our displeasure that American cigarette packs lack the lovely pictures of diseased body parts to be found on cigarette packs in Canada and Australia.
Saturday was supposed to be a day to hang out with friends as well as family before flying out on Sunday, but a bit more snow said no to the friends portion. I spent the day with my family, doing various things around the house, including figuring out exactly what I could and couldn't fit in my luggage for the return trip. That evening we went to see Perfume: The Story of a Murderer.
In short, Perfume is the tale of a young man who, as a result of being abandoned to die in the fetid streets of Paris at birth by his mother, develops the ability to discern every element of a scent no matter how small. Something like being able to smell the difference between two different lichens residing next to each other on a rock 300 yards distant would be an effortless feat for him. Being an orphan, he is, of course, abused and put in any number of unpleasnt places, which he just takes as his lot in life. Then, one day, he catches the scent of a beautiful young woman, and becomes obsessed.
Hers is the most pleasant scent he's ever experienced, but he hasn't the words to express this to her when she notices him smelling her. Consequently, she gets severely creeped out and runs away. He, of course, follows her scent to where she went. She notices his presence again just as two people stumble through the alley. Covering her mouth to stifle a scream of alarm, he accidentally kills her only to find that the scent that had so intoxicated him fled quickly afterward.
That's the first bit of the film, the rest concerns his apprenticing to become a perfumer so he can learn the secrets of capturing scent. I'm sure after just reading the above any number of possible readings jump to the fore, but I'll not offer one. One of the issues most talked about with regard to this adaptation is how it would be possible to transfer the intricate discriptions of smell from the book into visual equivilancies. It seems they've done it well enough. I'd encourage anyone reading to give it a look. I intend to see it again, if only to get a firm grasp on my opinion. The only question is if I'll find it in a cinema or have to wait for Netflix.
Sunday, 7 January found me back in Boston before midnight. Now, I get to go to one class I'd really rather not be in, and I get to decide if I want to play the odds in the job market doing what-have-you to pay the bills, or if I'd like to go another $25-30K in debt trying to land some relatively low-paying job through BU's L.A. internship program in the Fall.
Decisions, Decisions.
The nuggets this year, as usual, were quite enjoyable. My parents stayed in for the evening and caught the small fireworks display that appears annually at the top of the mountain. I rang in the new year with a large number of friends and acquaintances at a bar called the Metropolitan. It was a decent enough place. The garlic-chipotle stuffed olives made for an interesting flavor in the gin martinis. I also found out that I had won a friend over to the Ciroc vodka camp (If you're looking for quality vodka, Ciroc is where it's at). The hostess ended up being the waitress for our group, and she did rather well accomodating us. The night was relatively uneventful, except for Karl losing his phone and the guy who found it being kind enough to call one of the numbers in it to arrange its return, and around 01:00 we adjourned.
I got to work with Forrest again at kung fu class again on the first. He's a really good guy, and it looks like some good things could be lining up for him soon. If things work out, I'd be quite happy for him; they couldn't happen to a better person.
I've forgotten most of what I did between the first and the fifth, so we'll just leave that bit out. I think sudoku was involved in there somewhere though. Anyway, there was a get together to be attended on the fifth with more friends I don't run into nearly enough either online or off. It had snowed a little more in the mean time, so I wasn't taking any chances, what with being somewhat rusty at driving after nearly a year with no practice, and decided to make it a dry evening. It was fun seeing everyone and bonding with John and Christina over our displeasure that American cigarette packs lack the lovely pictures of diseased body parts to be found on cigarette packs in Canada and Australia.
Saturday was supposed to be a day to hang out with friends as well as family before flying out on Sunday, but a bit more snow said no to the friends portion. I spent the day with my family, doing various things around the house, including figuring out exactly what I could and couldn't fit in my luggage for the return trip. That evening we went to see Perfume: The Story of a Murderer.
In short, Perfume is the tale of a young man who, as a result of being abandoned to die in the fetid streets of Paris at birth by his mother, develops the ability to discern every element of a scent no matter how small. Something like being able to smell the difference between two different lichens residing next to each other on a rock 300 yards distant would be an effortless feat for him. Being an orphan, he is, of course, abused and put in any number of unpleasnt places, which he just takes as his lot in life. Then, one day, he catches the scent of a beautiful young woman, and becomes obsessed.
Hers is the most pleasant scent he's ever experienced, but he hasn't the words to express this to her when she notices him smelling her. Consequently, she gets severely creeped out and runs away. He, of course, follows her scent to where she went. She notices his presence again just as two people stumble through the alley. Covering her mouth to stifle a scream of alarm, he accidentally kills her only to find that the scent that had so intoxicated him fled quickly afterward.
That's the first bit of the film, the rest concerns his apprenticing to become a perfumer so he can learn the secrets of capturing scent. I'm sure after just reading the above any number of possible readings jump to the fore, but I'll not offer one. One of the issues most talked about with regard to this adaptation is how it would be possible to transfer the intricate discriptions of smell from the book into visual equivilancies. It seems they've done it well enough. I'd encourage anyone reading to give it a look. I intend to see it again, if only to get a firm grasp on my opinion. The only question is if I'll find it in a cinema or have to wait for Netflix.
Sunday, 7 January found me back in Boston before midnight. Now, I get to go to one class I'd really rather not be in, and I get to decide if I want to play the odds in the job market doing what-have-you to pay the bills, or if I'd like to go another $25-30K in debt trying to land some relatively low-paying job through BU's L.A. internship program in the Fall.
Decisions, Decisions.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Christmas
On Christmas Eve, we did what we've been doing for pretty much as long as I can remember: drove around looking at people's Christmas light displays. This year was a little different from the previous years, however. Usually there will be at least one pizza shop open ungodly hours on Christmas Eve, and we will typically get a pizza or two to enjoy during our journey. This year, there wasn't even one open. It was highly disappointing. But we did the gazing anyway, and it was an enjoyable family time.
Christmas was good. After the last post, I'm sure I don't have to say it was a white Christmas. Everyone seemed to like the gifts I got for them. My sister was a little taken aback at first with her kangaroo scrotum coin purse I brought back from Australia, but she eventually warmed to it. The shirt I got for my dad fit quite well and looked good on him, and I'm hoping my mother will actually like the wines I brought for her once she tries them.
I was gifted with a number of things that I quite enjoy. Some of the dried fruit tray is still around, surprisingly, and the book of extraordinary facts and interesting random information that my sister got me for my birthday sees use every day. Eventually, everyone I see on a daily, or more infrequent, basis will be subjected to the massive amount of information I will glean from that book over time. I could list off all of the great things I was given for the holiday, but I just don't think lists like that are my style.
My mother prepared a very tasty Christmas lunch/dinner. I offered to assist, but as is often the case, she said I wasn't needed in the kitchen and should relax. I ate more than I should have, but it was too good to stop.
A few days later, I found out exactly how atrophied my martial arts skills have become when I went to kung fu class. We did some slow speed, bare knuckle sparring, and I found out that both my defensive and offensive skills are quite a bit lesser than they used to be. It was a good time, and I was lucky enough to get to go back a number of times before I returned to Boston. The next day I was snowed in until the weekend.
On the thirtieth, my friends Jon, Mike, and I gorged ourselves on some of the best sushi I've had. Surprisingly enough, it came from a place in Colorado Springs. Shinji's Sushi Bar is awesome. Shinji is great, and so is the food he makes. Mike works there as a waiter and did the ordering for us, so I don't recall the names of the items we ate. Well, except one, the Jake #1 roll. It was stupendously good. At any rate, much of what we ate wasn't on the menu because at least half of what Mike ordered was written in as "chef's choice." These choices were awesome as was the miso soup, seaweed salad (complete with bits of jellyfish), premium sake, and anything I'm forgetting to list. Shinji's is also one of the few Japanese owned and operated sushi shops in the area.
If you're in Colorado Springs and looking for sushi, go to Shinji's. Just don't go when my friends and I are there having chef's choice sushi. We arrived when there were few people. The place filled up with people when Shinji was less than half way through our orders. Many of those people were waiting 30 minutes or more thanks to us. It was somewhat entertaining.
After sushi, we visited our friend and kung fu teacher Ren. We had some beers, chatted a bit, and watched some of a Zeppelin live DVD. It was a very good time, and I was a bit disappointed that I didn't get to hang out with him again this trip.
Is it new year's eve already?
Christmas was good. After the last post, I'm sure I don't have to say it was a white Christmas. Everyone seemed to like the gifts I got for them. My sister was a little taken aback at first with her kangaroo scrotum coin purse I brought back from Australia, but she eventually warmed to it. The shirt I got for my dad fit quite well and looked good on him, and I'm hoping my mother will actually like the wines I brought for her once she tries them.
I was gifted with a number of things that I quite enjoy. Some of the dried fruit tray is still around, surprisingly, and the book of extraordinary facts and interesting random information that my sister got me for my birthday sees use every day. Eventually, everyone I see on a daily, or more infrequent, basis will be subjected to the massive amount of information I will glean from that book over time. I could list off all of the great things I was given for the holiday, but I just don't think lists like that are my style.
My mother prepared a very tasty Christmas lunch/dinner. I offered to assist, but as is often the case, she said I wasn't needed in the kitchen and should relax. I ate more than I should have, but it was too good to stop.
A few days later, I found out exactly how atrophied my martial arts skills have become when I went to kung fu class. We did some slow speed, bare knuckle sparring, and I found out that both my defensive and offensive skills are quite a bit lesser than they used to be. It was a good time, and I was lucky enough to get to go back a number of times before I returned to Boston. The next day I was snowed in until the weekend.
On the thirtieth, my friends Jon, Mike, and I gorged ourselves on some of the best sushi I've had. Surprisingly enough, it came from a place in Colorado Springs. Shinji's Sushi Bar is awesome. Shinji is great, and so is the food he makes. Mike works there as a waiter and did the ordering for us, so I don't recall the names of the items we ate. Well, except one, the Jake #1 roll. It was stupendously good. At any rate, much of what we ate wasn't on the menu because at least half of what Mike ordered was written in as "chef's choice." These choices were awesome as was the miso soup, seaweed salad (complete with bits of jellyfish), premium sake, and anything I'm forgetting to list. Shinji's is also one of the few Japanese owned and operated sushi shops in the area.
If you're in Colorado Springs and looking for sushi, go to Shinji's. Just don't go when my friends and I are there having chef's choice sushi. We arrived when there were few people. The place filled up with people when Shinji was less than half way through our orders. Many of those people were waiting 30 minutes or more thanks to us. It was somewhat entertaining.
After sushi, we visited our friend and kung fu teacher Ren. We had some beers, chatted a bit, and watched some of a Zeppelin live DVD. It was a very good time, and I was a bit disappointed that I didn't get to hang out with him again this trip.
Is it new year's eve already?
Friday, January 12, 2007
White Power
The picture(s) to be added to this post will enhance the descriptive effect of my words. Anyway, the day after I arrived back home (I believe it all started Tuesday, but it could have been Wednesday), the snow, which I found to be my greatest enemy of the holidays, arrived. It snowed for two days without stopping. Escape was impossible even in the four wheel drive pickup truck. When the snow finally stopped, I decided to dig out the whole driveway and car parking area (I was visiting my family, it's the least I could do). I shoveled more than 2000 cubic feet of snow that day,at 8000+ feet in elevation, coming directly from a year spent at sea level. I was amazed I didn't faint or have a heart attack.
The same thing happened the next week. Another two days of snow. Another two feet of snow in the driveway (approximately. Some spots had more, some less). This time, though, I had been out in my Saturn when the snow started. Arriving home, the snow was too deep for my car to make it up the grade of the driveway, and I had to leave it sitting in the way. Luckily, it was far enough in from the road that my parents were able to pull their truck in behind it and out of the street. We tried to clear the snow away while it was still coming down, and while this might be a smart decision most other times, the snow was coming down too heavily to fix anything despite removing the at least eighteen inches of snow already accumulated. My father helped me shovel at least half of what was out there this second time.
To top it all off, it snowed again the last Friday I was in town there. Luckily, it was only a few inches, or I would have missed the last opportunity I had to meet up with my friends from back there for last/this year. At least I wasn't stuck at an airport for days at a time, trying to get somewhere for Christmas. I was, however, held hostage by the weather for six (more?) days.
Not that I'd have necessarily done anything all that interesting with the time, but it would have been an option. I did use a couple of those days to chisel off the nut holding one of the kitchen sink strainers and half fix the leak it was having. It would have been fixed entirely except the silicone sealant I tried to use was too old and did not provide a good enough seal.
Next up: Christmas
The same thing happened the next week. Another two days of snow. Another two feet of snow in the driveway (approximately. Some spots had more, some less). This time, though, I had been out in my Saturn when the snow started. Arriving home, the snow was too deep for my car to make it up the grade of the driveway, and I had to leave it sitting in the way. Luckily, it was far enough in from the road that my parents were able to pull their truck in behind it and out of the street. We tried to clear the snow away while it was still coming down, and while this might be a smart decision most other times, the snow was coming down too heavily to fix anything despite removing the at least eighteen inches of snow already accumulated. My father helped me shovel at least half of what was out there this second time.
To top it all off, it snowed again the last Friday I was in town there. Luckily, it was only a few inches, or I would have missed the last opportunity I had to meet up with my friends from back there for last/this year. At least I wasn't stuck at an airport for days at a time, trying to get somewhere for Christmas. I was, however, held hostage by the weather for six (more?) days.
Not that I'd have necessarily done anything all that interesting with the time, but it would have been an option. I did use a couple of those days to chisel off the nut holding one of the kitchen sink strainers and half fix the leak it was having. It would have been fixed entirely except the silicone sealant I tried to use was too old and did not provide a good enough seal.
Next up: Christmas
Monday, January 08, 2007
Very Far Behind
I am entirely too far behind in posting. There should have been a post about spending Thanksgiving with a friend and his family, drinking a bit of beer, eating a lot of very good food, and standing in the cold rain around a fire, but I neglected to write one. There should also have been an entry about watching the Jan Svankmajer film Otesánek (See it. There's a creepy old guy with a thing for a little girl, general obsession with children, a wooden doll that comes alive, and much more), but I failed to do that too.
There would have been an entry about Children of Men back around 30 November that was to have been titled something like "The Second Coming is as a Little Black Girl" (The movie was pretty good. Our heroes: hippies, a former activist unhappy in his new corporate/government job, and people who don't use guns. The potential savior of mankind is a baby black girl. The long takes are great), but, again, I waited too long for the ideas to remain fresh.
I probably should have put something down about the Christmas formal, Toys for Tots, or my birthday nights out, but that's not happening now either. I didn't fail any of my classes in the last semester, and that's about all that'll be said about the fin de semestre.
I went home for Christmas. I intended to write a post about the snow issues, among other things, and I think I still will. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Two or three entries about my Christmas and New Year's doings are forthcoming and might even make it here before the new semester starts.
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