I Was Meant For the Stage

Holy shit!!! I had quite the eventful weekend. On Friday, Chris and I went to a department Halloween party with a dress-up-like-a-game theme. I decided to go as the game Eat, Fuck, Or Kill, which consisted of three baby dolls--one tied around my waist, one on a platter with some parsley, and one hanging from a noose. It was pretty fantastic (if I do say so myself), only no one at the party had heard of the game. Before we even arrived, though, Chris and I accidentally locked ourselves out of our apartment and had to call a locksmith to let us in. This was bad thing #2 in the last couple of weeks, the first being that I dropped my ipod into a clean toilet bowl and will now have to send it in to hopefully be repaired or buy a new one. But, I thought that maybe these were actually good luck charms for the Decemberists' shows this past weekend. You see, the last time I saw the band, a very bad thing happened the night before when Chris and I were stuck in the city with my car that wouldn't start (and then it was a bit damaged from the towing). All was forgotten, though, when before the concert, while waiting in line, I talked to Colin Meloy and he recognized me!!! So I crossed my fingers that perhaps this too was some sort of karma.

Indeed it was. We arrived at the Vic Theatre at about 11:30am on Sunday. One girl was in line (who I had waited in line all day with last April when the band played at the Riviera Theatre). One of the guys working with the merchandise asked us about the deal where if you bought a two-day pass, you received a poster and needed to photocopy what the two-day pass tickets looked like. So, I volunteered (after he said I could accompany him on this task). Turns out, he photocopied the tickets in the Decemberists' dressing room, so I was standing in the hallway right outside of their door. Nate was talking on his phone right next to me, and when he was finished with his conversation, he introduced himself to me (meaning that I have now met all five Decemberists). And I could see Jenny and Colin on the couch talking and Colin eating a sandwich. Back outside, the band soon came out to walk around the area and I had my chance to ask Colin my questions--about Jane Eyre's influence on "The Island" and about how to pronounce his sister's name (turns out I'm an idiot and have been mispronouncing it all this time). He told me that Jane Eyre had nothing to do with his song (but said "good digging!"), that there was a bit of James Joyce (parallax). So I was pretty happy that I had a chance to complete what I had set out to do.

The show was fantastic!! It was really great to see the opening of the tour as they were still working out how they were going to do everything and seemed to be in a mood for spontaneity. Colin had his shirt sleeves rolled up and on his inner right forearm, just below the elbow, there was a tattoo of a ship. I called out that I liked his tattoo and he looked at me and said thank you, and then rolled up his sleeve a bit more. I can't be absolutely certain, but I'm pretty sure he made eye contact with me several times in the show, and he came out to the edge of the stage near us several times as well. The show was supposed to be over at 9:45pm, since there's a 10pm curfew (all ages show), and the band was warned that they were going over at one point, but they wouldn't cut the night short (it wouldn't be the Long Of It if it was cut short). They played until about ten after 10pm, including an almost ridiculously long cover of Pink Floyd's "Echoes". After the concert was over, John, Chris, and I decided to hang out by the stage door to see if the band would be frequenting any local bars. I also wanted to tell Colin that when he drums (during The Tain), he looks a bit like Mick Fleetwood with his expressions. We had to wait a bit (a firetruck and ambulance pulled up while we were waiting--it seems that Nate hit his head and was being checked to make sure he was alright), but eventually they all came out and signed autographs. I was last in the little semi-circle of people, and I was busy forumlating my comment, apparently too busy to hear him say to me, "Hello, it's good to see you again." (!!!!!) I told him my observation, and he was very happy about it (Fleetwood Mac is one of the biggest influences for the band, according to some interviews). He told me it was a "high compliment." Then they were whisked off by a van and I was left giddy and incredibly sore.

But that's not all. We arrived at the theatre around 11:30am on Monday as well. There was no band-meeting before the show this time, but it was more than made up for. The set list for this show was highly discussed during the day of waiting--which short songs would they play? Would it be all upbeat, or would they mix it up? It turns out that they played a bit of everything and mostly things that aren't usually played. The set began with the first five of the six songs, in order, from the 5 Songs EP. The rest of the set was a mix of the peppier and the less so (i.e. "Eli, the Barrow Boy"). They ended the encore with "After the Bombs" and started the encore with "A Cautionary Song" which featured Chris and John reenacting the St. Valentine's Day Massacre (and the front row was able to sit on the stage at this point to make room for the reenacting). But, the two absolute highlights (of the night and of my life up til this point, really) came with the performances of "Culling of the Fold" and "The Chimbley Sweep." I was hoping that they would play "Culling of the Fold" and hoping that I would be one of the audience members who come face to face with Colin during this song. He did his usual round of audience interaction, and then kind of fell into the crowd a bit, right on top of Chris. Towards the end of the song, he came back, and touched my cheek as he finished singing!!! He then went to stand on an amp in front of the drum set and jump around a bit while the band was ending the song, and ended up falling into John and the drum set a bit. By this point, I was already on cloud nine, but it wasn't over yet. During the instrumental break on "The Chimbley Sweep," Colin and Chris had their guitar riff-off, but in the middle of it, Colin walked over towards me. I thought he was just going to play near the crowd as usual, but instead, he held his hand out to me and pulled me up onstage!!!!!!!! Then, he gave me his guitar and pick and then he went into the audience to play the role of a fan. It was an odd mixture of extreme excitement and a bit of terror as I can't play guitar, not even a little bit (and it was a bit difficult to try as the guitar was hanging pretty low on me, given that I'm smaller than Colin Meloy). I attempted to play at least a scale or strum a chord that I knew, but there was a capo about halfway down the neck which was a bit hindering for me and I could barely hear any sound that I was making. I tried my best to play the rock star, but I was shaking quite a bit. I tried walking around and high-fiving the audience, but I was a little afraid that I would trip over all the wires onstage and mostly stayed put. At some point (I didn't really notice that much of what was going on aorund me), Chris and pulled up another audience member to play his guitar. In the meantime, Colin was acting the groupie, shouting to John that he loved him and jumping around. Eventually, he came back onstage and I gave him his guitar back, shook hands, and then he hugged me and I joined the audience again. So, aside feeling like a bit of a schmuck for not actually knowing how to play, it was fucking phenomenal. I'm still not entirely sure that this actually happened to me, and everytime I picture Colin holding his hand out, I giggle like a school girl. This truly was the craziest thing that's ever happened to me.

We waited outside the stage door again, mostly so I could apologize for my lack of talent and promote myself by telling him I could play trumpet (maybe they could use me on this tour for "The Sporting Life"?), but Colin went right into the van and it drove off. Oh well. I think I can make due with only having the experience of playing onstage with the Decemberists. Holy fuck!!!!!!!!!

Wonder Boys

I have finished reading Jane Eyre. It seemed to me to end a bit abruptly, but it was a pretty good read, I'll say. Rochester is a bit of a douche bag, though not nearly as much as St. John. It tends to drag a bit, though I did really like the first part of the novel, before Jane grew up. I enjoyed Charlotte Bronte's writing--she has a very poetic style. I don't know that I really have that much to say (write) about it though. I've been reading a few academic articles about it, but after that I'm not sure what I want to read at work next. This is where you come in, dear readers. Please help me decide what to set upon next by voting. Here are some options.
Reading at work:

Persuasion by Jane Austen

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

The Sea-Gull by Anton Chekhov

anything by Charles Dickens

Middlemarch by George Eliot

something by Henry James

Ulysses by James Joyce

something by Edgar Allan Poe

anything by Mark Twain

anything by Jules Verne

something by Edith Wharton

something by Virginia Woolf

Stay tuned to vote on what I should read next in the at-home category!

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

Good news everyone (besides the Bible)! For the past week or so, I've noticed a contentedness blossoming in my life. I'm getting more organized and confident with my job, as well as my reading progress at said job. I bought a swim suit and will be swimming every other day, which helps the whole healthy-in-the-body bit. Most importantly, I've had better and better thoughts recently. What I'm really happy about is that I am content and not ecstatic. This is very important to me, as the former more or less equals healthfulness and the latter not as much. It feels almost as if I'm starting over, which is pretty nice. I am becoming better at relaxing and maintaining a laid-backness throughtout each day. While before I might imagine myself somewhere or doing something else if I didn't particularly like where I was or what I was doing, I am now just imagining a happy place/thought. The difference is that now, it's a more relaxed imagining--instead of thinking about being somewhere else physically, I find it works better if I picture the place mentally and leave it at that, without the extra work of making it tangible or realistic (if that makes sense). I'm trying to be more patient with people, especially when I'm driving (though I don't think that one will work so well until I get out of this state--no wonder they don't make cars here anymore, they don't know how to operate them). Also, I'm trying to be productive, but at the same time not worry about being productive so much. Basically, I'm trying and somewhat succeeding at worrying less overall--which is a great improvement for me. I think the only place I am less successful with this strategy is in the financial department. So, if you have a lot of extra cash that has been burdening you as of late, please feel free to send it my way.

Post to come: the TV season so far (idea stolen from John)

Everything In Its Right Place

Happy Belated Birthday John!!!

In other news, I have become greatly worried about the current and future state of House. Last night's episode (spoiler alert!!!! Oh No!!!!) featured House acting like a room full of writers have succumbed to fatigue/writer's block/absence of good ideas. I was afraid when I saw the preview for last night's episode last week. Surely they won't have their star character act completely out of character, surely a life long atheist and superb doctor won't act this naively , surely they won't throw all of the characterization they've provided the past few years in one fell swoop. I can accept him sticking a knife into an outlet in order to prove someone wrong (beyond a doubt, or at least as much as that is possible), to shut down the inevitable comment of "you've never been there," but now the preview for next week makes me worry again. Surely they're not going to bring the supernatural into this show. Why are the writer's obsessed with his atheism and continually provide him with inferior foils espousing Christianity? Can't there be an escape from the overabundance of the bad side of religion in our culture right now (I'm looking at you people who don't "believe" in evolution)? Hopefully this will just be a case of networks providing horribly inaccurate previews for their programs (I'm looking at you ER trailers). And another thing...I don't like what the writers are doing with this new blonde chick. Okay, so she's the "female House," only it doesn't work. I get the point that men get away with being sarcastic/arrogant/condescending/aggressive/etc. much more than women do, but that's not what's happening here. The reason House is likable is that he's exceptional and can back up all of his arrogance and everything else and then some. This woman is not exceptional and I'm tired of hating all the female team members (though I do like the woman who correctly diagnosed the patient this past week). So, hopefully I'll be able to continue watching House. If they fuck up next week, I won't be able to watch and then I'll be very sad and mourn my loss for quite some time. Sigh.

Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)

Happy Birthday John and Sean!!!!

The Sporting Life

Happy Birthday Colin and Carson!!!!!

In other news, I've decided that East Lansing law enforcement is wretched. On the first day of my job up here, more than a month ago, I noticed a yellow light and went through the intersection because I wasn't far enough way when the light changed to stop. I was then pulled over by a motorcycle cop who gave me a $175 ticket. Feeling that this was utter bullshit, I contested the ticket this past Wednesday. To no avail. The judge deemed that I was responsible and I was relieved of quite a chunk of my not-so-ample finances. I figured I would lose if the cop showed up (which he did), but I thought I might have a bit of a chance. I didn't realize that the court and the police headuquarters are in the SAME FUCKING BUILDING! Fuckers. So I'm stuck driving every day in a town where the police have nothing better to do than ticket drivers who commit a perceived offense. My only consolation is that I added to the number of tickets issued by this particular police officer that are contested (I'm thinking that list is quite long), and that maybe someone will take him aside and tell him not to be such a douchebag. Other than the ridiculous police, the roads and drivers in this city/state are starting to wear on my nerves. This is how they drive around here:
1. 5-10 miles below the posted speed limit
2. 30-40mph on the on-ramp for the highway (when the ramp is a straighaway)
3. cluster in one lane (there is often two cars in the left lane and fifteen in the right, even though none of those fifteen plan on making a right turn)
4. stop with a car space or two distance between them and the car in front of them at a stoplight
5. block an intersection when there's a back-up in the lane instead of stopping at the light
6. stop (or slow to a crawl) while on a road for no apparent reason
7. wait a minimum of 5 seconds before proceeding when they get a green light (the same goes for making a left turn)
8. other things that annoy me and impede my passage

Though it's not all bad up here. Last weekend, a friend of Chris accompanied us to Ann Arbor and on the way back, we drove through a suburb called Chelsea that seemed very nice. The other day I learned that Chelsea is home to none other than Jeff Daniels! Perhaps I will meet him someday.

One last thing--Chris and I watched the Office last night and are both hoping that it does not continue to dwell in over-the-top land for any other episode this season.

Paris Is Burning

So, having free time at work means that I have been catching up on my news, and when I say news, I mean headlines on MSN's site (which is the homepage that is set on the computers here). Most of the things I read, then, are strange items of news or celebrity gossip (I have become intimately familiar with all of Britney's travails as of late). Some interesting things I learned today: a pet bunny was stolen from a preschool room in protest of a circus that was in town. A paraphrase from one of the preschool's attendees, "Our bunny was stoled. I'm sad." More bizarre than that, a man in North Carolina bought a smoker at an auction. The items at the auction were culled from abandoned items at a storage silo. He got home, opened up the smoker, and found, wrapped in paper, a human leg, severed a couple of inches above the knee. Did a loan shark leave it there after collecting it from a client? Perhaps the Russian mob was involved (though from what Without A Trace tells me, they're more likely to go after fingers)? A serial killer? Nope, something less exciting, but way more fun--police called the woman who the smoker had belonged to and she told them that her son had been in a plane crash, had his leg amputated, and kept it for "religious reasons." So now, the son is going to drive to North Carolina to pick up his leg. You'd think he'd be a little more careful about hanging on to that limb. In other leg-related news, a man smuggled a couple of exotic iguanas into the country via a compartment he had hollowed out of his prosthetic leg. I like the idea of hiding things in a prosthetic limb, though I think I would use it for less illegal and less alive things.

Soon, I will e-mail Oliver Sacks. I'm pretty excited. I am almost finished with his book The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and found that in one of his cases, a woman who is "simple" is quite a poet and described her grandmother's death as the woman going to her "long home." Sacks was impressed by this and wondered if that was an original phrase. While reading Jane Eyre, I came across that phrase (uttered by Helen). Apparently, the simple lady liked to have books read to her, so maybe that is where she picked it up. Anyway, I think it's worth a shot to e-mail Sacks about it. So, it seems I'm getting quite some mileage out of this Jane Eyre book, though it's dragging a bit for me now. Hopefully some fun things will start happening. I read some analyses of her drawings online last week which contained some spoilers--so I know I have some strange things to look forward to.

Chris and I have moved about twenty feet or so from where we lived. It seems to have worked out really well. We have a lot more space now (so there's plenty of room for anyone who wants to visit...hint hint) and I think overall, this apartment is better. In other Chris related news, we will be seeing My Brightest Diamond in Grand Rapids, MI on November 10th (it's a Saturday). Tickets are only $10 and My Brightest Diamond is really really good, especially live. She/They will also be in Chicago the next night (at the Lakeshore Theater), but if you go to that show, you won't have the pleasure of our company.

The Island

I have been employed in Michigan now for about five weeks now. I'm pretty sure that I like my job, although I don't think I'll ever really grow accustomed to this whole 9 to 5 real world deal. The good thing about the job I have is that while I am somtimes busy with easy office tasks, I have quite a bit of time where I don't have to do anything and have relative freedom to do what I want. My time is divided between my cubicle and covering at the front desk for the receptionist. When I'm in the front, I can openly read, which is very nice and allows me to progress through my Idiot's Guide to Music Theory quite nicely. When I'm at my desk, I think that I have to pretend that I'm occupied with work-related tasks, which means I make abundant use of the internet and all its glorious offerings. I have been making use of one of those offerings in particular: readprint.com--a website containing free texts. So far, I have read 1984 and Animal Farm. Currently, I am reading Jane Eyre. I enjoy it so far, though I'm only on chapter 13 and have only just been introduced to Rochester (who seems like a douche). This chapter has made me excited and impatient for the end of October when I will hopefully have the chance to converse with a certain Mr. Colin Meloy. Jane has just brought her drawings to Rochester for examination and has described the first of said drawings. This is an image of a sinking ship with a cormorant atop the mast holding a bracelet in its beak, which belonged to the drowned woman whose arm is visible as she sinks into the sea. I am excited because I plan on asking Colin Meloy whether or not Jane Eyre (like The Tempest) influenced the lyrics to The Island. I'm very excited about this for two reasons: 1) I find connections between media terribly interesting and b) perhaps this question will impress Mister Meloy and will lead to a great friendship which will span the ages--yes, your children will hear all the wonderous details of the solidarity between Colin and Jill. Here's hoping...

Also, Chris and I will be moving...details to come after this weekend.

Song for Jedi

So I exercised a bit today at the new gym I joined. Hopefully this is the beginning of a regular happening. And as I was driving home, I was thinking about something. Therefore, I am blogging about it. My question to you, dear readers, concerns habits of thinking. How long will it take until the thoughts that I want to have become the thoughts that I actually have. Case in point, because I am a female cliche, I have body image issues. Recently, I have noticed that my boobs have become smaller. And of course there are always fluctuations in breast size, but it seems to me that there's been a pretty significant, well okay, not really significant, but....noticeable reduction. And I know I shouldn't let that bother me. And I know that size isn't as important as quality, i.e. it's better to have smaller nice, firm boobs than sloppy sagging pieces of crap, but it still does bother me. And it's the same with any part of my body that I dislike or am disappointed in. I've often had this question and it has been my number one skepticism of therapy, self-help, etc. Do these issues and/or problems ever really get fixed. And of course, this is a question that concerns many more issues than body image, but because I am a stereotype surrounded by banality wrapped inside triteness, this is the main problem I have. Will I ever naturally and completely organically be okay with my appearance? Can one really derail or even detour trains of thought?

Hyacinth Girl

The job I have doesn't involve much work, from what I can tell. They pretty much leave me alone and I have maybe 8 tasks to do each day. My day is broken up by covering the front desk several times for the receptionist's breaks. So, to fill my days (and to look like I'm doing work so I won't be disturbed), I have been reading books online (one so far, so more like a book online). I have just completed 1984. I've told myself that I'll spend my time away from academia catching up on things I should have read a long time ago, or at least trying to do that. I did enjoy reading 1984, though I didn't know how much of a downer the end is going in. I enjoyed it and got caught up in it, etc., but I think my anxiousness to continue reading was almost as much because I didn't have anything else to do as much as it was to get back to the story. One very strange thing did happned, though...

I have a tendency to get lost in media sometimes--in books, films, and music mostly. This doesn't happen all the time, but frequently enough so that I'm a bit used to it, even though it's a very surreal sensation. Most of the time, I disconnect from reality and the thoughts in my head seem more real than the everyday normalcy that's going on around me. This usually lasts for a couple of hours or so, and I usually spend some time alone and then it dissipates. Today, as I was reading the final chapters of Orwell's dystopia, this occurrence happened and took on a new level. I suddenly thought about something that I may or may not have been dreaming about the past couple of days. It may have been a thought that ran through my head while I've been reading for the past week or it may have been purely from a dream. I became dizzy and nauseous and had to hold the edge of the desk in front of me to steady myself. My thoughts moved slowly and I kept glimpsing the edges of them, trying to remember what they were and where they were from. It was a very odd feeling and I don't think I'm describing it very accurately. I felt some physical pain along with the dizziness and nausea. And now, two and a half hours away from the incident, I can remember it and not remember it at the same time. It was very odd.

But, now I have to go cover a break and decide what I want to read next.

Happiness with less of the obsession bits

I've been spending a lot of my time the past two days watching three music videos for Feist songs. They are really really fantastic.

1234
So, the various theories about music and how the right note, chord, etc. can produce magic, yadda, yadda, yadda...the "oh-wo-oh" part of the song (that usually involves hand clapping) automatically makes me happy--very, very happy. This video produces contentment, which is better than euphoria. Anything involving musicals or musical sensibilites (which means all three of these videos)? I'm in! The choreography is wonderful, the colors are vibrant and perfect. And it suits the song wonderfully.



Mushaboom
This version was directed by Patrick Daughters, and while I'm usually not one to throw around certain words, the man is a fucking genius. This is the guy who brought you such spectacular videos as "Maps," "Title and Registration," "Gold Lion," and the third Feist video featured here. Wonderful, wonderful work. There's a lot in this video to remind me of Spike Jonze, "It's Oh So Quiet" and his Adidas commercial.



My Moon My Man
Another one by Patrick Daughters that is absolutely amazing. I really like her style of dance, and the way she moves in this video reminds me of Christopher Walken's style. The mood, lighting, and choreography are utterly fantastic, especially with the cutting of the shots in the music interlude timed to the cymbals. The movement in this video is captured perfectly.

Nightingale

The Plan:
Drive to Chicago after work on Tuesday with Chris, go to the Logan Square Auditorium and stand in line to see Laura Veirs open for Mirah. Maybe Colin Meloy will be there. Maybe Laura Veirs will go to the Decemberists show the next day. Maybe I can do something to navigate my way around the reserved-for-friends-of-the-park seats and sit in front. After the show, spend the night at a friend's pad and then arrive at Millenium Park at 7am on Wednesday to see the stage being set-up and soundcheck, possibly chat/hang around a Decemberist or two, or five.

The Outcome:
Chris and I arrived at the Auditorium around 7pm or so, and the only people in line in front of us was a group of about four or five people. Laura Veirs came out of the building briefly to return an iron she borrowed from someone in this group. We were right in the front for the show, which was really good except that a lot of the audience was talking throughout her set and the acoustics in the place made the chatter especially noisy and bothersome. Chris got the setlist, we both got an autograph (she signed the collection of sestinas, Jim and Dave Defeat the Masked Man, I brought with me, thus continuing my tradition of having musicians sign books), and we got to talk with her a little bit, but she seems pretty shy so that we asked her a question, she'd answer, but there was never an opportunity for any kind of conversation. Mirah's set began, and while I have recently downloaded some of her music and like it, I wasn't completely interested in her show, both because I'd already seen what I'd come to see and because by that point I was feeling a bit blue. After the show, we go out to my car and are about to give the friend and his girlfriend a ride, when my car doesn't start. It's not that it struggles to start, it's that it never gets to the point of turning the engine at all. Nothing. So, the friend and girlfriend left to take public transportation and Chris and I prepared for a fun evening. By this point the feeling blue had reached its head and it's a good thing Chris was there, otherwise I may have destroyed a bit of self and/or property before doing anything productive about the situation. Because of AAA, we were able to get a free tow back to Dekalb, but, because of AAA, we had to wait almost two hours for this to happen. The tow truck driver pulled up, hooked my car up to the truck, got back in his cab, and stared at us through his sideview mirror. We got in and prepared for a long drive. The tow truck driver, let's call him Patty McShitty, got a little better on the highway when he started talking and being somewhat congenial. We learned that he'd been working for the past 36 or so hours, meaning he had to periodically roll down the window to keep himself awake. We finally get to Dekalb and to the parking lot behind my apartment building around 3:30am, and all is seemingly going well, or as well as it could be going. But, of course, things can always get worse. Patty McShitty released my car in the row of parking spots that neighbors the parking lot of the apartment building in back of mine. There is a small bit of grass that slopes down into that lot, and on this bit of grass are some electrical boxes. Having not been towed that often and having no instructions given from Patty McShitty when he picked us up, I had left my car in neutral. So, the car was released, it proceeded to roll down the small hill, scrape by a couple of the boxes, and nearly miss the Audi that was parked in the other apartment building's lot. Patty McShitty got my car back up and into the lot it was supposed to be in and I saw that while there was some damage cause, luckily, it was minimal. Then, Patty McShitty left. We did not tip him a fucking penny. He was a shitty tow truck driver.

It was not looking good for the Wednesday plan. However, Wednesday did turn out better than I could've ever reasonably expected (before or after the shenanigans of Tuesday night). We went as a group of four, had a fun ride, parked in the most confusing parking garage I've ever been in, got a good spot in line, and didn't have to wait that long before getting seats. We ended up sitting in what I think was the best place we had access to in the venue, and while there were some annoyances (old people who hold up their umbrellas at almost arm's length for some unknown reason, idiots behind us who didn't know they were at a rock concert), it was a spectacular show. Everything sounded great, the set list was awesome, and it didn't ever rain beyond drizzling. There was also a really great security guy who made sure that everything was awesome. The highlight, though, and a highlight that may not have happened had it not been for the change of plan: talking to Colin Meloy!!!! Shortly before the line was let in to the seating area, I spotted Mr. Meloy walking about ten feet away toward the park. I was torn between not wanting to harass him and wanting to talk to him, and I followed him a bit. There was someone else who saw him and followed to talk and get a picture. I took the picture for him, though when I was holding the camera up, I noticed how much I was shaking. Colin recognized me (!!!!!) and I told him how I was reading The Mysterious Benedict Society and how much I enjoyed the book and its illustrations (done by Carson Ellis, his girlfriend). And then he walked around the park, and I clicked my heels while walking back to the line. It was a wonderful day. Though the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry, sometimes it's really for the best.

I've been thinking about it for a while now, and I've decided to edit my harem (the inappropriately-titled group of male celebrities I have huge crushes on). I think I should whittle it down a bit since it has grown rather large (and I always manage to forget one person when I'm rattling off the list to anyone who happens to be interested). I've thought about adding a few people, but I think I'll only add one. And I'll try to order them, since heretofore, it has simply been an only slightly-ranked list.

Harem prior to today:
1. Colin Meloy
2. Ben Gibbard
3. Sam Rockwell
4. Will Forte
5. Jonathan Rhys Meyers
6. Jonny Lee Miller
7. Trey Parker
8. Zach Braff
9. Jason Schwartzman
10. Jon Stewart
11. Steve Carell
12. Hugh Laurie
13. Clive Owen
14. Stuart Murdoch

Harem today and onward:
1. Colin Meloy
2. John Roderick
3. Ben Gibbard
4. Sam Rockwell
5. Will Forte
6. Jonny Lee Miller
7. Hugh Laurie

This was a hard decision and many people have been taken out simply because it is difficult to give a lot of attention to so many people. I have tried to make this new harem full of people that I actively enjoy and read about/follow their career. Sigh.

You shook Sinatra's hand. You should know better.

I haven't seen as many films as I would like as of late, but I have seen several great ones.


Waitress is a delightful film that unfortunately has a horribly tragic backstory. Its writer/director/co-star, Adrienne Shelly, did a wonderful job with this story, keeping it balanced when it could have so easily succumbed to sentimentality or banality. Sadly, Shelly was senselessly killed before even finding out the film had been accepted to the Sundance Film Festival, but if there's any bright side at all, at least she's left behind a remarkable movie to be remembered by--truly a high note to go out on. The plot and characters of Waitress are charming and believable because of superb performances and a script that allows characters to be people and not caricatures. Great, but I can't help thinking: if only I liked pie...



Going only on a vague desciption of the movie in Entertainment Weekly's Summer Movie Preview, I wanted to see Paris Je T'aime. After seeing a preview for it, I really wanted to see it. It looked like one of those films that would instantly be a favorite, a film with a "gimmick" that would actually work splendidly. And that's exactly what it is. The movie has eighteen short segments, and while some have a better sense of beginning-middle-end than others, I can't think of one that I didn't enjoy. There are some that are adorable, some that are heartbreaking, and some that are laugh-out-loud funny, and all are a good time. I would list a couple as especially splendid, but I would end up listing almost all of them.

I meant to see The Queen last year both when it was released and especially when it was nominated for all of the Oscars. I was pretty certain I'd like it after what I had heard, but I was a little wary after some critics had said it felt more like a TV movie than a film. I suppose I can understand why they would feel that way, but I did not have that experience. I am fairly familiar with the royal family. I remember the day that Diana died, but I wasn't completely aware of the controversy immediately after. Like everyone else, I thought The Queen did an excellent job of portraying the situation and those in the middle of it fairly. I fell in love with Queen Elizabeth because of her grace and her politeness. Man, she is one polite lady (I wish that I could be a tenth of how polite she is). And man, Philip is a douchebag. And Charles is a sadsack pussy (well, I already knew that pretty well). And Tony Blair's wife is quite the snatchbasket. I really enjoyed the film, but I think it was at its best in the quiet moments when Helen Mirren really shines.

I was really looking forward to Ocean's Thirteen because, c'mon, I'm pretty sure you're crazy if you weren't looking forward to it. And it did not disappoint. I mean, it's not quite an Ocean's Eleven, but it is the one they should've done last time (if only that was allowed to be part of the title). Once again, we have a film that's incredibly visually interesting and a rollicking good time. The Godfather reference was fantastic (you could learn something Knocked Up), the heist was awesome, Julia Roberts wasn't around to remind us of how little acting ability she actually has...This is an incredibly fun movie filled with eye and ear candy (both in the dialogue and the music). And the last two lines of dialogue are hilarious.

Magneto and Titanium Man

Happy 65th Birthday Paul!!!!!

What It Feels Like For A Girl

So I wrote this poem and I think I want to put more in it (i.e. make it longer), but I'm not sure. I really like the idea of taking one piece of art and making another inspired by it. Notice all the allusions. I'm such a modernist! Thoughts?

Williams' Ophelia
is full of grief and
a son with unknown
motives holds her hand.
It was during the
cruellest month, with
the hyacinths in bloom,
and no one knew
if she would return
from the marsh.

Land of Confusion

I saw Knocked Up last night. I didn't like it. I am very confused by the lavish praise, the adoration of the critics for this one. It's an "instant classic" apparently (Really?! Really?!) I suppose I should refrain from too much judgment, as the terrible viewing experience may have had some negative influence. I really like seeing movies in the theater, but almost every time I've been to the theater for the past couple of years, I have been frustrated and have now come close to the point of never going to the theater again. If it's not issues with the sound or lines showing up on the film, it is the utter stupidity and lack of consideration by the other people in the theater, who do not merit the term "fellow moviegoers." Last night, the onslaught of irritants began early. There was a preview for I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, which, whether offensive or not, simply looks stupid and not at all funny. One moment in the preview, Adam Sandler's character feels Jessica Biel's character boobs, then quickly removes his hands and tries to cover his I'm-supposed-to-be-gay-I-can't-like-boobs (there's already a problem, everybody, men, women, gay, straight, children, wolves like boobs. They're pretty awesome) with "Yucky!" This elicited a guffaw from the guy behind me. Now the couple behind me did like to talk a bit during the film, and the girl apparently missed the title of the movie since she kept gasping when Alison (Katherine Heigl) found out she was pregnant, but they at least tried to whisper and the guy could be heard shushing a bit so as not to bother other people. I still don't like you, couple behind me, after all, you would laugh at a joke that wasn't really funny and then cement my notion that you weren't very bright by repeating that line, a sign that you have mastered the ability to regurgitate words that you have just heard, but at least you're making an effort. This was not the case for the I'm guessing fifteen year old girl two seats down from me, who was actually partially sitting right next to me, since one of her legs was propped on that seat. Not only would she laugh in a kind of high-pitched girl-who-screams-in-public-when-she-sees-her-friends-five-feet-away laugh and also repeat the joke that was just said, she provided a running commentary, and not just whispering, but talking aloud, which consisted of: "Those boots are so cute!" "That's that one guy, I can't think of his name now" (when a Stephen Hawking reference was made) etc.

So, perhaps I would've liked the film a bit more had I not been seated in the we-ate-paint-chips-when-we-were-young section, but I'm not so sure. Upon originally seeing previews for the movie, I was underwhelmed. But then, the critics were saying good things, and I do like the people involved, so I thought it would be a worthwhile movie. Turns out, my first instinct was right. What was wrong with it? Well, let's start with the characters. Alison works at E! but has no idea who Doc Brown is. At the beginning of the film, I didn't think she had any actual personality, but then it gets worse as she becomes the hormone-driven pregnant woman stereotype. At one point, she goes into full-hose beast mode, gets upset at Ben (Seth Rogen) while driving, stops in the middle of the street (strangely no one began honking, which I would've done immediately had I been in the car behind her) and kicks him out of the car. I take it we're supposed to smile knowingly and think "Oh those pregnant woman, always crazy and acting like fucking cunts!" Except I find it hard to laugh at/care about a character who I would like to see bit a curb (sidenote: I grow very weary of the idea that pregnant women can act out and be excused. Yeah, it sucks to be pregnant, and yes, your hormones are wild and you feel differently than you normally do, but that is not an excuse to be a terrible person or to make those around you miserable. You want to have a baby? Fucking suck it up and deal with the process). Then there's her sister Debbie (Leslie Mann) who is also a pretty huge hose beast. I was pleasantly surprised to find that towards the end of the movie she becomes slightly less of a huge hose beast, but how many times are movies and tv shows (I'm looking at you Everybody Loves Raymond) going to present us with women who want to manipulate the person they're supposed to love, have no interest in sex, criticize everything around them, and have irrational fears about their children that are supposed to come off as maternal love and justified when they're actually more akin to paranoid witch-hunting? Debbie and Pete's (Paul Rudd) marriage, according to the critics, is supposed to be a realistic depiction of marriage and its troubles. Except that what it actually is is two people who are entirely wrong for each other who got married because of a pregnancy and would now probably be better off divorcing. Then there's the praise the film gets for all of its cultural references. Yes, there are quite a few. How many of said references are actually good and humorous? Maybe ten percent (including one that actually was really good about Meg Ryan). The rest were more along the lines of "Hey, I've seen movies. Like Total Recall. Remember that movie? Wasn't it good?" When a cultural reference is in a comedy, I would like that reference to be used in service of a joke or clever and creative, not just there, only for the sake of a cultural reference.

All this being said, the movie wasn't that interesting and wasn't that funny. Although, it did promote Munich at one point, which, unlike Knocked Up, is filmmaking at its finest.

International Harvester

In April of 2006, there was a van carrying students from Taylor University in Indiana that was hit by a tractor-trailer on I-69. Five people were dead at the scene, including a girl named Whitney, and one girl, named Laura, was taken to the hospital, remained in a coma for five weeks, and then regained consciousness and entered a rehab facility. Only this isn't really what happened. Turns out, Laura died (and was buried in Whitney's grave) and Whitney was in the hospital (being cared for by Laura's boyfriend and family). This is very tragic and horrible, but it's also pretty fucking funny. It gets better. Laura's boyfriend, after finding out that he had been by the bedside of Whitney and that his girlfriend was six feet under had this to say, "There's been times these last couple of days that I've been mad at God...I feel like it's the biggest trick he's ever played on me." Absolutely. Naysay if you will, that ole trickster God is at it again! How did he manage to pull this one over on that boyfriend? Well, at the crash site, emergency workers rallied up dead and severely injured and sent them on their way. At the hospital, officials from the University were asked to identify the five bodies. Actually, they were asked to match a list of fives names to the deceased. Now, this was not the official identification of the body, the official one occurred, well, over a month later after Whitney had been awake and in rehabilitation. Officials "decided not to push" family members in order to ascertain who was lying on the slab in the morgue. That God! Pulling tricks on some Christian zealot by making people incompetent!! Ooh, one of my favorite parts: while in rehabilitation the girl was asked to write her name. What did she write? "Whitney Cerak" What was Laura's family's response? "Hmm...maybe we're idiots who can't recognize our own child, even after swelling in her face has gone down, the tube in her throat and mask over her mouth has been removed, she has spoken, and has written a name that belongs to someone else who was in the van during the crash." Though at least they're aren't as self-important and fucking arrogant as God-boy boyfriend who's mad at his Lord because apparently the world revolves around him.

Sigh.

Dashboard

I have wanted to have the ability to write songs for some time now, but the recent disappearance of realistic career plans and life goals has made me think the pipe dream of fame and riches in several aspects of the entertainment industry should be considered a bit more seriously and that I should at least make a worthy attempt to move toward this horizon. So, I've been earnestly trying to swith from pure poetry to at least being in the vein of songwriting. That being said, the most recent song addiction has been Modest Mouse's latest single "Dashboard," and I've written something with that playing through my head. Basically, new words with a very similar rhythym and rhyme structure. One tiny step at a time.

Now that I'm clean-cropped
and wearing jeans,
they all look my way,
ask me questions, they seek me out.
And the last rite I can't fight,
trying to shove it back another year.
And the first jeer I couldn't hear
too busy with the sea in my sights.
When I walk down the streets
with my headphones on
the world becomes a story
and the location's looking good.
I frame the shot the best I can,
with the soundtrack selected
and my mind in a TV show,
everytime a TV show.
With the trumpet blaring, I'm just staring
transfixed on the girl in the shop window.
She'll be a star, I'll take her far
And I can only hope the fame won't wear thin.
But my time here is limited,
the shadows are nipping at my heels.
I'll set sail for the islands
in the distance, in the far-off West.
The existence here is fleeting
and I really should be heeding
the siren song way out West.

Blanket Hog

I read the course evaluations my students wrote just now. I was expecting them to be filled with "You're such a cunt," and other similar epithets, since one girl just before writing her evaluation of me as a teacher and the Research Paper Class in general asked, "What happens if a teacher gets a bad evaluation from everyone in class." To which I replied something along the lines of "Jackshit." They were all pretty upset since I had just minutes before handed back their graded research papers, most of which received pretty low grades. So, much to my surprise, the evaluations were all pretty positive, and one claimed that my class was that student's favorite of the semester. This is very confusing to me since most students stared at me slack-jawed-like the whole semester.

Yesterday, my mom and I got back in town from Wisconsin and called in an order to a local restaurant for some deep dish pizza. My mom was going to pay in cash, so she asked me what the price was a little while after I called. I didn't think to remember the exact total, so I said "I think he said $16 something." We were in my apartment and she was fixing my lamp when the delivery guy knocked on my door. My mom told me she had put left a $20 bill on the table. The pizza guy quoted $13 something as a price. So I looked over at my mom to see what kind of tip she wanted to leave and she told him to keep the change. So I thought something along the lines of, "That's a pretty big tip, perhaps she's feeling generous," and then thought nothing more of it as my mind was consumed by the sight/smell/taste of the best kind of pizza mankind has ever seen/smelt/tasted. This morning, she left a message for me complaining of how she was ripped off. Apparently, she heard the delivery guy say that it was $16 something. And, she even thought, I don't know if I want to give him a tip of $3 and change. I told her that the delivery guy told her the right price but she is convinced that he scammed her. So, she would rather believe that she was malevolently swindled than that she willingly spent more money that she intended. Now, there have been occasions when I have tipped someone and then later realized that I had given more than I had anticipated, but I usually shrug it off and think "Well, that person is happy because of the big tip." Perhaps having been on the receiving end of tips encourages me to have a more laid-back attitude about such things. I'm just amused by my mom's outraged conviction.