happy leap year

see ya in 2012

notes from the comp classroom

I'm teaching right now. Teaching and composing what is sure to be a not-so-clever-or-well-crafted-blog. But then again, not many of them are clever or well crafted. My students are furiously typing at their computers, writing stories with transitions. Vampire Weekend is playing. No heads are bobbing like mine is. I'm not sure they get the subtle but total awesomeness of this band. When I'm not in this classroom, I can think of little else than my impending Comprehensive Exam and this is why this time period is my only opportunity to post an entry here.

I've gone through some pretty drastic hills and valleys with this whole Comp Exam thing (see this). During the weeks after NYC, I was so paralyzed (from what is too big a subject to even mention here) to even begin to think about them. Overly dramatic, yes, but also true. Then, a week out from the date, full panic mode. Enough to...guess what?...paralyze me with anxiety and get nothing done preparation-wise. Then yesterday, 4 days away from what is possibly the biggest exam in my life (an exam I need to pass to have these last 3 years in Minnesota and even the whole of my academic career count for something), 4 days before the Saturday this exam will be held, I decided on the 6 books I am going to write about. This should have been done months ago. Drafts of essays should have been written and re-written by now. I should be in memorization mode so that when I show up at 9:00for the exam, I can sit down at the computer and regurgitate prose with little trouble. Unfortunately this is not the case because I'm a bum. An anxious, denial-prone bum.

After class I'll make final corrections to BER before the issue is sent to the printer. Then from noon today until 9:30 Saturday morning, it'll be all Comps with breaks to eat and sleep for no more than 4 hours at a time.

I'm a bum.

meltdowns

Early morning/seasonal:

Late night/20 seconds in microwave:

On-going/semesterly:

poodled

There's a debate between E and I over who our childhood dog--a beautiful, well-mannered, cream-colored standard poodle--was named for: Jackson Browne or Michael Jackson. I claim the former. When I ask my mom, a woman who catalogues the dates of major life events infallibly, she won't answer. She generally doesn't live in the past. When I ask Dad, I phrase it strategically: "You named Jackson after Jackson Browne, right?" because Dad has a history of giving answers that appear in or somehow repeat the question.

I don't know why it's such an issue, and probably it isn't even so much for E. I know she doesn't care much, but humors me when I bring it up. I have this insecurity about being right, and in instances in which I'm convinced I'm right, I rarely allow the issue to die until I'm proven right. So, it comes down to an old folk-rocker-alleged-wife-beater to the King-of-Pop-alleged-child-molester.

The question I probably should be asking my parents is why they deemed either one of these men a fitting figure to name our dog after.

the answer is NO

See previous post.

I'm exhausted, crabby, and exhausted...and repeating myself...and crabby.

will 3 hours of sleep really do me any good?

Third consecutive night I'm up past 3am.

I'm just saying.

movie nonz-sense 07

It's no secret I love movies, though love is too slight a word. To quote Woody Allen in Annie Hall: "Love is too weak a word for what I feel - I luuurve you, you know, I loave you, I luff you, two F's, yes I have to invent, of course I - I do, don't you think I do?" Word, Woody.

It's been a long and somewhat disappointing year for me in terms of new releases. I've had a better experience with pre-07 films (Annie Hall included...I've done some catching up) and I could write an entire issue of Cinaste covering important movies in my lifetime, but this list will be limited to only those released within the last year. This list has not been well cultivated, documented, nor researched. The only requirements of those that made it are that they had an impact on me in some way and I happen to remember them as I sit down and type this at 11 pm on this Sunday night. Undoubtedly, some great flicks have been overlooked. It should also be noted that I haven't had the opportunity to see as many movies as I'd like to (namely, I'm Not There and La Vie en Rose which I'd hope would make it on my list had I seen them).
*
Across the Universe

Okay. Any true Beatle fan (which I consider myself) would probably not agree here. However, Julie Taymor (the director who brought The Lion King to Broadway and Selma Hayek's Frida to the screen) is a captivating storyteller--bells, whistles, psychedelic bus rides and all. Her re-visioning of the Beatles catalogue is NOT what the stingy fab four fans might label blasphemous. Instead, it is a testament to the timelessness of the music, the men who made it, and the era in history it represented. Taymor's stylistic embellishments and musical numbers color the narrative of young lovers in a fucked up world beautifully. Just as the Beatles did with their music films (Hard Days Night, etc) Taymor realizes that a thoughtful pairing of music and image, when done right, is difficult to shake out of the brain. (Sidenote: this movie holds good memories of a new friend for me, the unavoidable but often wonderful truth of art and association.)

Waitress

I was not a Felicity viewer until some time in my late college years, and then only because it happened to be on in the family room around 6:00 when I was living with my parents and Mom and I would spend that time cooking in the kitchen. We were soon both under the spell of the Noel/Felicity/Ben love triangle. Oi. (Noel was the better man by far.)

Anyway, I rented this mostly out of morbid curiosity. The writer/director/actress Adrienne Shelley was murdered shortly after the film's release. That alone was enough to get me to grab it from the shelf.

Keri Russell (Felicity) plays Jenna, a pie diner waitress newly pregnant by an abusive husband. The film uses some familiar tactics: off-beat supporting characters, voice-over narration, food as metaphor as Jenna comes up with pie recipes that symbolize events in her life. What really makes this movie good is the understated humor and hard-edge that Russell breathes into her character. (I never knew she had it in her.) Her utter contempt for her unborn child was much more poignant than the sarcasm in the other "unwanted pregnancy" film of the year: Juno (which was also very good, but head to head with Waitress not as nuanced). Juno's one-liners and seeming ambivalence to her pregnancy could be chalked up to immaturity, youth, and an underdeveloped worldview. Funny? Yes. Touching? Also yes. Well acted? Definitely. However, Keri Russell deserved the accolades Ellen Paige received for drawing me in to a character I disliked for much of the movie but rejoiced for by the end. There has not been a more effectively subtle character arc this year.

Once

A somewhat under-the-radar release. I saw this one with the folks one night over winter break, and I'm finding it a little difficult to pin down just what I liked so much about it. The music, obviously--and god-love Marketa Irglova and her mouse-brown hair and ankle-length traditional skirts, but--Glen Hansard is crazy good. Crazy good. They're both obviously untrained actors, and yes that lends the film a bit of awkward charm and natural chemistry, but it's not what propels the movie. Glen, like his name, is not typical leading-man material but you wouldn't know it because from the very first scene as he rips away at his guitar in the streets, you see him as a musician and not an actor. His music and performances provide the heartbeat to this clever and sweet story. Also, big props for the resistance to the typical Hollywood formula by the end of the film.

The Orphanage (El Orfanato)

I'm not a big fan of horror and/or scary movies. Not that I can't appreciate a good one, just that it's not my preferred genre. However, when I saw that a Mankato theater was actually running the Guillermo del Toro backed film The Orphanage, I had to go. I can't say much at the risk of spoiling any plot points, but, to be vague: the pace of the film was perfect (which is something I consider essential for an effective scary movie especially--namely the mounting and release of suspense and tension), the element of magical realism was well established and well played, and the lead actress was wonderful...it was as if at the beginning of the film she took your gut, placed it into her pocket, and carried it along as her story unfolded.

A few days after the film, while it was still rattling around in my head, I remember telling AKC about the experience. As I was sitting in the movie theater, I was completely involved with what was on that screen. While watching this film, I was thinking two or three steps ahead of the action or piecing together what I'd seen and how it'd come in to play later, but always within the world of the film. Part of the appeal of movies is the element of escapism--from your day, from your family or friends, from reality even. Scary movies seem to heighten that experience, The Orphanage more than any I can remember in my life.

No Country for Old Men

This is a tricky one because I've only had a day to let it marinate. I had to travel 20 miles outside of Mankato to catch it, but luckily I have good friends up for movie road trips.

For starters, the Coen brothers have made some of my very favorite movies: Fargo, Raising Arizona, The Big Lebowski, Blood Simple. NCfOM is definitely one of the buzz-films of 07 with all the nominations and awards, and knowing that I possibly wouldn't have the opportunity to see it before it came to DVD, I tried to stay away from anything--articles, entertainment shows, friends and family--that would influence me and my initial viewing, and for the most part I was successful. All I knew going in to it was that Javier Bardem was good (AGREED), the movie was good (AGREED) and people had problems with the "open-ended" ending (WTF?).

I was first struck by the landscape and cinematography, very reminiscent of Fargo, and to a certain extent Raising Arizona--long, slow shots of open and sparse country. In Fargo, the expanse of white sky on white snow created a kind of limitless abyss, as does the dry Texas landscape. It creates a bit of an illusion: though there is an entire world for Llewelyn to hide out in, the farther he goes, the more trapped he becomes...as though his fate was sealed the moment he discovered the money. And the fate that is Javier Bardem's character is a constant presence in the movie, even when he's not on screen. Scary SOB.

A quick note about the Coens' ability to draw fabulous performances out of character-actor caliber actors. The one that stuck out to me most in NCfOM was the one and only appearance by Barry Corbin (the guy from "Northern Exposure") near the end...a 5-10 minute scene with Tommy Lee Jones. I would give all the credit to Corbin, but like I say, the Coen's have done this before.

Next is the script. There is not one line of dialogue or narration wasted. Having just read McCarthy's The Road, I was already a little tuned in and therefore able to appreciate it more I think. Much of the most important communication in the film comes in the silences, in what is not said between two characters, or between what is said instead of saying what really should be said. Just like a good novel, the audience is not fed lines that tell them what to think and feel; this experience rises from the tone and delivery of almost all of the interactions between Bardem and the main players (most effectively with Llewelyn's wife near the end).

Which brings me to the fuss over the "open" ending: I don't understand...what is open-ended about it? Maybe it's more a result of audiences used to a story wrapped up and tied with a big red bow seconds before the credits roll. By the end, all the major questions are answered, if not explicity, heavily implied by what's already been established. Anything remaining (and I won't discolse it here as not to spoil it) doesn't matter to the intention and execution of the film.

Friends: gear up for another road trip next weekend. We need to see this again.

End scene.

iowa vs. minnesota, cont.

Reason #32 Iowa is better than Minnesota:

Iowa's on its way to a record-breaking winter in snow and ice-fall. Experiencing a string of cold-ass Minnesota days and nights but an otherwise relatively mild snow accumulation, I've been on the receiving end of many shoveling, driving, ice-picking, and all around weather combating complaints over the past few weeks. There's either a half inch of ice to chisel off the drive, cancelled school days (thus delayed summer vacations), or daily shoveling and snow banks high as the shoulders to contend with.

Despite all this, I still prefer Iowa and look forward to spending winters there.

and there was music

AKC and I (ACK!) enjoyed us some Cat Power and The Dirty Delta Blues last night at the clean-bathroomed First Avenue in The Cities. There was Power, and there was Blues. But first, there was the not-so-impressive opening act, Appaloosa, and her "DJ" man-kick hereby named Georg--a waifish eastern European electro-punker. Then there was a long ass wait. During said wait there were cereal commercials from the 50's looped on a gigantic screen. Tricks are for kids, Stop stealing me lucky charms, and so forth. There was wonderful conversation between AKC and ACK (me!) during the wait...and $6 Raspberry Stolies which were mostly ice. There were cold fingers. There was no tip. I love wonderful conversations.

When CP&TDDB took the stage, Chan looked very tall. Until I realized I was just very close. And a little drunk. The band was solid; a lot of high-hat on the kit and a dirty, dirty guitar. Pretty straightforward backing without a lot of interpretation, but every now and again a song would open up (for Chan to take a drink or a drag behind the speaker stage left) for embellishment. Then there was the voice and it was amazing. A voice well worth a $30 ticket and $6 parking fee to hear live. A voice I appreciate more each time I listen to it.

There was poor lighting throughout the show. There was a spotty spotlight. There was inconsistent fade and therefore too much dark stage too often. There was also recognition of this by Ms Marshall and she requested to turn on the "go home" lights and turn off the spotlight for the last two songs. There was finally an opportunity for a shitty picture with my phone:

There were highlights: Song for Bobby. The Greatest. Aretha, Sing One for Me.
There was THE HIGHLIGHT: The best cover I have ever heard of what is arguably the best song ever written by Joni Mitchell: Blue.
There was a little bit of irony because AKC and I (ACK!) discussed Joni Mitchell during our wonderful pre-show conversation out of the context of anything having to do with Cat Power.

By the end of the night, I felt like I had just been through an intense poetry reading. And it wasn't the lyrics, most of which I don't even know. It was that smoky, stretched, confessional voice. There were times the song would open up and I'd get down to the Dirty Delta Blues. And there were moments when the only music I heard was her voice.

music snobbery

The stereo doesn't come on until about quarter after one, just about the time I'm brushing my teeth for bed. The walls are thin enough that I can make out 90% of the songs coming from the apartment next door, but diffusive enough to muddy the melody into a thudding of notes...like how you might gather the tone of a person's conversation who has their hand over their mouth, but not the words spoken. Now, as a music lover, normally I would sigh and accept this "con" of apartment living and settle under my big green comforter for the night content that someone was rocking to some rocking tunes. But before I pulled Big Green over my ears, I caught the hook. A familiar hook. A hook I associate with Wahlert High hallways and the era when pop music still had a wholesome sheen to its face. It was "I Only Wanna Be With You" by Hootie and the Blowfish.

My fears of an Idiot Neighbor's Idiot Party Playlist playing too loudly were confirmed when Sheryl Crow's "All I Wanna Do" bled through the walls. Two songs. Two wanna's. Shit. Listen, I'm not a retro music hater--it was a brilliant pop tune, but even Sheryl got sick of playing her own song pretty early on and retired it so she could go on to make some bad-ass records (by the way, dear neighbor, you'd be happy to know she just released a new album last week...check it; add it to the rotation). Then "Closing Time" came on by the band I-Don't-Remember-Who-And-Neither-Does-Anyone-Else-But-My-Neighbors. And then another round of Hootie, this time the one with the creepily catchy lyric, "every time I look at you I go blind." What does that even mean?

All I could do was hunker down and hope for no country. If it's not 90's Garth, vomiting is always a possibility. So, kept awake by the skeletons of old songs, I re-lived some memories and re-felt some feelings, but mostly I was just wondering what kind of lame party was going on next door. Were they standing in a circle as one person showcased his or her running man in the middle? I hoped maybe it was a cover. I hoped they were in there doing lines of coke secure in knowing that no one would bust a party playing soft-rock.

Then I heard whistleing, and it sounded familiar. I saw air streaming through the same puckered mouth that covered "Live and Let Die." A velvet poster on my sister's wall. A signature sway that began in narrow, leather-clad man hips and moved through the torso. The man was Axl Rose. The band was Guns n Roses. The song was "Patience" and 5 seconds of the lead-in whistle was enough to take me back.

How you know when a song is good: when it stands up to time, just like any art--visual, theatrical, lyrical, musical. I fell asleep to that song so I don't know what other tracks had been resurrected by my neighbors that night. But that was a good fucking song.

my state versus the world

Reason #68 Iowa is better than Minnesota: Caucuses.

The Minnesota "vote gathering gathering" was so disorganized that there was no forum for discussion. I'd be amazed if 70% of the voters who showed signed the registration logs that were passed over heads like a crowd-surfer. This blamed on unexpected and overwhelming turnout--this despite the consistent overwhelming turnout in each state that held a caucus or primary which began with Iowa. Iowa adapted and instead of precint captains throwing up their hands when it was evident the crowds wouldn't fit into the designated venues, they took the time to get it right.
*
Reason #114 Iowa is better than Minnesota: Netflix delivery.

Even though Netflix has a distribution center in Minneapolis, a mere 75 minutes from my home in KatoTown, I get my Netflix movies a day earlier when I'm 4 1/2 hours away in Iowa.

political rehab (warning: preachy language)

I've had an awakening and the man in the glowing robes is Ron Paul. Ron effing-republican-from-texas Paul & me: republicans-are-the-bane-of-the-earth. I finally got over my team mentality enough to realize that he is the ONLY real representation of true change in the field of candidates, and it's unfortunate that "change" has become such a buzzword because it's what this country desperately needs but is being assigned haphazardly and re-defined to fit every candidate's campaign. Ron Paul believes in the Constitution, a document written by those invested in America as a people and not America as a corporation. Ron Paul also believes in maintaining the individual liberties that are being eroded with each war fought and tax imposed.

I'm disappointed that I got caught up in the media's race by following the contest through sound bites and selected information, but it appealed to my innate desire for competition and to be on the winning team. Even the print media is at fault; even the entertainment media is at fault by distracting the public with celebrity non-news as the government propagates fear and terror and takes our liberties away one by one (Patriot Act, for example). The problem is so pervasive it's staggering and the system is so flawed that the people who run this country (and by the way, this is not the government as you might assume) place candidates in the spotlight for America to "choose." I began as a softie Kucinich supporter, not dedicated enough to fight for him early on because of the electability farce—again, that selfish attitude of having my voice "matter". Then after Kucinich was forced out of the race (yes, forced out), I was too narrow and scared to even consider a Republican candidate despite all the hype and momentum behind Paul, especially with young people. I underestimated young people. He's not perfect by any means (I strongly disagree with his pro-life policy, for example), but in a field of already or potential puppets, he's by far the best candidate if American people want to preserve their steadily decreasing freedoms.

Despite my X Files phase and all this conspiracy-speak, I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but I do know that the idea of being microchipped scares the shit out of me. I also know that evidence speaks. I know that though Bush's presidency will hit the books as a disaster, I don't think they failed at all in terms of their goals. The devaluation of the dollar and the propaganda of the "War on Terror" is driving the country into highly monitored (therefore, controlled) and less free state.

It's late in the game to be switching, I know—especially when I thought I was doing so well: researching, discussing, and caucusing in two states! Fortunately, in Iowa my Biden group didn't meet delegate threshold and I wasn't able to sweet talk enough people to add another delegate to the Edwards pile. Most recently, the Minnesota caucuses on Super Tuesday were such a zoo that 1) I wasn't 100% sure I was in the right precinct, and 2) it's likely that my hand-written vote on a piece of yellow scrap paper and handed to a nondescript man on my way out of our second voting location in a room with a rock-climbing wall didn't get counted anyway. So, I consider myself with a clean slate.

For those of you who have been playing the real political game already, why didn't you tell me sooner! For the rest, I'm not trying to force ideas on anyone (as that would be just a tad hypocritical), but information is out there and I encourage you to take the step. Here are some facts from Bill Moyers. Here's a good site for sifting through the bullshit. Go to Ron Paul's website and read the literature and keep the real issues on the table. I don't expect many people to jump to the Paul ship, but ask yourself which candidate is least likely to be bought. Ask yourself which candidate believes in the Constitution and individual liberties. Ask yourself if you really looked at the candidates—beyond CNN, beyond the Washington Post, beyond the talk at the lunch table.

I'll leave on this note (embrace the pun): Listen to Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward's rendition of "You Really Got a Hold On Me" for an idea of the American public's relationship to the Architects of their country.

SeeqPod - Playable Search


(If you're at the end of this post and silently resenting me and my soapbox, you can't say I didn't warn you!)

blizzard

Just one reason I love my mother--she sends me emails like this:

MayDay, MayDay:

This may be the last communication from Dubuque, Iowa.
Snow has not let up for 24 hours.
Once familiar landmarks are gone.

Ma and Pa Zchivago