Duct

I used duct tape for its intended purpose last night when the duct work that goes from our dryer to the outside vent fell off of the wall. That was entertaining.

I'm officially on break. I have been for a week, but I feel like I've finally settled in. My family was out of town so I took advantage of their absence as is only appropriate. It's been entertaining, but now that they're home I've begun the process of settling into a schedule of sorts. I've got a stack of books I'm working through, and about a million projects to work on. But I'm excited about it all.

Inches

I just realized that, after tonight, I won't sleep in a dorm room again until February. This is exciting. I'm going home tomorrow afternoon/evening to spend the weekend at home studying and writing a paper. Saturday morning I'll take my family to the airport. Monday I'll drive down to school to take an exam and turn in the aforementioned paper.

I am inches away from being able to piece my skull back together.

I've got final exams

Sorry for the lack of posts. I didn't have an excuse for a long time, I was just busy and lazy and dealing with real life (which can sorta suck a lot at times). Now I do have an excuse, though. Tomorrow is the last day of regular classes for the semester, so I'm heading into finals. My last final exam is next Monday and my family leaves for Mexico on Saturday, so I'll have a week at home alone without them. I'm excited about having some time to decompress after finals without my family in the picture. It's just about the ideal scenario.

I have a month off from school beginning on Monday. I won't have class again until second semester begins at the beginning of February. I could not be more excited.

That's all I have time for. I will say this, though: romance may or may not be afoot. I went on a really great date last night. All I know for sure is that I've got it bad for this girl. So we'll see what happens.

I met a nice police man

I've noticed that the only times I ever go to the library here on campus, and especially the "super quiet study-zones" that are in the library, are on days that I wear corduroy pants. I find this a little amusing. I generally receive at least one dirty look when this happens. I usually respond with an apologetic shrug, though once the person turns away I grin to myself.

Mockingbird Music is up and running. Check it out. Reviews of shows (actually, just one show at this point) and a few free downloads.

Here's a story:
I got excessively inebriated last night and decided that I wanted to leave campus. At the time it seemed like a great idea so I began walking in what I thought was south. I walked for about an hour, singing songs I know and generally feeling free. I was on a road somewhere outside of town when a car pulled up next to me. A police car. The man asked me how I was and where I was going. I think I slurred something like, "south - I needed to get away," as I pointed in the direction I was walking. He had a sympathetic look, probably because I was not actually going south (I am directionally challenged). He asked where I live and ended up giving me a ride back to my dorm building. He proceeded to tell me to get some water and some sleep. He was very nice and I was very amused. Looking back, it's sort of sad and very weird. It's a good story now though.

I think my wanderings are done for awhile. I'm taking a month off of school in January to generally collect my thoughts and spend some time away from the institution with which I've become increasingly disillusioned. After that I'll only have two semesters left on campus, another January term and a semester I plan to spend in Oregon. So I'm feeling rather positive about the future.

It's hard realizing that so much about the place you've committed two years of your life to is not what you thought it was going into it. It's also difficult to realize how short the list of people you'd make an effort to keep in touch with is. Mine includes a total of five people, I think, and one of those wants to transfer.

lonelylonelylonely

Today is a strange day. My class was canceled and I took off of work to go to a concert this evening so the extent of obligations today was a forty-five minute rehearsal at eleven o'clock this morning. I spent a few hours reading outside until a cloud blocked the sun chilling my skin. I've had nothing to do and no assignments due tomorrow so I've simply been wandering and reading.

I'm reading a book called Off the Map. It's part of the CrimethInc. Letters series. CrimethInc. is an anarchist "group" that I have a special place in my heart for. I love a lot of what they do, but dislike just as much. Which is, for them, the point. It forces me to be clear with what I believe. The book is a chronicle of two women, Hibikina and Kika, as they hitchhike around Europe, sleeping in squats and generally meeting interesting people. It's lovely.

I'm also reading a book called boring boring boring boring boring boring boring by Zach Plague. I can't decide if I like it or not. It was written by an artist/graphic designer-cum-writer who also did the layout of the book. It looks very nice but I haven't decided if that inhances or distracts from the story. I think that if you can't get your point across without using pretty fonts and pictures then you aren't doing your job as a writer. The story sounds like something I might write, but each character's name is in a specific typeface and everything that is a flashback is printed sideways. I'm enjoying it but I don't think it will stick with me long after I've finished it.

I recently bought the vinyl release of one of my favorite records in the world, mewithoutYou's album Brother, Sister. It arrived sometime during the last few days (I was in South Dakota until yesterday). It's on it's second spin 'round the spindle and I've determined that it was worth every cent and every minute I waited for it. It is a sad but hope-filled record, which fits my current mood to a t.

I've been lonely lately. It's difficult to feel so inexplicably lonely when one is surrounded by so many loving people. I've determined that what I need is a place to retreat to once in awhile and I don't have that. My roommate and I aren't getting along well so I spend a significant amount of time, especially evenings, away from a place that I can call my own.

Additionally, I've no one that I am incredibly open with and close to here. There is no one that exceeds the boundaries of "close friend". I love the fall but I have no one to share it with. I need someone like Gringo here at the very least, though I'd love to find a romance. I thought there was the possibility of one until a few days ago, and for some reason I am still optimistic about that. Lord knows why; she essentially said, never.

On the brighter side of things, I'm going to see Against Me! and Ted Leo & the Pharmacists play in Minneapolis this evening. I haven't been to a loud, sweaty punk show in awhile and I'm looking forward to simply enjoying the music and the volume. Brother Ali is performing here at my school tomorrow night, as well. Dessa and Paper Tiger, both of Doomtree, are opening. Expect reviews of both shows to be up on Mockingbird Music before the weekend is out.

Living with the Living

The music blog that Gringo and I were hoping to create has now been created. It now needs to be updated. You can find it here. It's called Mockingbird Music and we are both super excited about it. I have ideas about things I'd like to write about there.

In other news, I'm thinking about fixing this blog. And by that I mean getting a new one to replace this one. I realized about two weeks after I created this one that a better name for it would have been Cavalier Eternal. I have the blog registered, now it's just a matter of switching everything over to it. I'll keep you posted. All four of you readers.

My sanity is slowly coming back to me. After three weeks of little sleep, poor diet and too much work, among other unhealthy things, I've regained some of my time and begun to find balance again. My friends are saints for putting up with me. There is only one more day of classes before our fall break here which means I'll have a week to let loose and enjoy my friends. There is a small group of us going to the hometown of one of our friends to spend the week off. I can not tell you how excited I am for the trip. I imagine there will be some entertaining stories to tell upon my return. Until then... check out Mockingbird Music. I imagine there will be something to look at there soon.

Northstarrr

I replaced the ribbon in my typewriter and proceeded to write a follow up letter to the last one I wrote. It went well. She said thanks. And that's where that romance will probably end.

The last few weeks have been tough. I've over committed myself (again) and I'm feeling the consequences. Mostly, I haven't allowed for any time to myself and I'm forced to take it when I can get it which, inevitably, leads to hurting my friends feelings. Luckily, the show I'm designing lights for is nearly open and after that I'll have my evenings back. I hope that once I actually have time to do homework again I'll feel better about being here. I've been questioning whether or not this school is right for me, or whether or not school in general is right for me. I love a lot of the people here, but there's a lot I don't like about the institution in general, and the population here at large.

On a more positive note, I'm officially starting my radio show, North Star Music, tonight. I know, horrible name, but it's devoted to music by Minnesota artists. I'm excited about getting it underway. Stream it online here every Sunday night from 11-12. Requests will be honored (provided I have access to the tune you want to hear).

I want to go for a long walk.

H Correctable

I just had one of the most story-like experiences of my life.

I was writing a short letter on my typewriter to a friend who I saw last weekend. When we saw one another I was hoping to tell her that I think her eyes are beautiful but I had no way of leading into that statement or out of it. I ended up saying nothing and leaving the gathering we were at shortly thereafter. The letter was a short "hello" to her, as well as an excuse for me to tell her that her eyes are beautiful. I wrote, "I meant to say this the other night: Your Eyes are Beautiful." The next thing I was planning on writing was, "I had no way of preceding or following up that simple statement, so I stayed silent." What actually happened was this: my typewriter ribbon ran out of ink after laying down the period after the word "beautiful".

I scrawled a hurried apology for running out of ribbon, signed the note and sealed it in an envelope. It is now waiting to be taken to the nearest mailbox.

Movement

The other day I absolutely destroyed my left thumbnail with a screw gun. It slipped off of the screw I was attempting to put into a two-by-four to create a door frame and my thumb got in the way. It made a horrible crunching noise and bled for a day and a half. My thumb is still swollen, and I'll have a hole in my thumbnail until it grows out in the next few months. I was upset because it was my second to last day of work for the summer and I had gotten through every other day without injury despite climbing rickety ladders in old barns, using huge saws, working with lighting equipment and electricity in the rain (just once) and all sorts of life endangering things. Then a screw gun ground my finger into a mess. God damn.

In other news, I think I'm finally getting a typewriter. I've been looking for one for months and the other day at a small gathering someone overheard me say that I'd like one. He told me to call him so I can take a look. I hope it works out.

The power went out early yesterday morning. I was sitting on my patio with a good friend when suddenly all of the street lamps clicked off and every air conditioner powered down. We had the only light for blocks thanks to a couple of torches I had lit. It was an incredible feeling: we both felt like we were the last two people on earth. I wish it would have lasted longer than five minutes.

I spent far more money today than I planned...

I went record shopping with my friend Sam, which we have been planning for about a week now, however we only went to about half of the places we had planned on going to. That was my fault. You see, I found four Tom Waits records on vinyl at the first place we stopped. The Heart of Saturday Night, Foreign Affairs, Nighthawks at the Diner, and, what is one of my favorite Waits records, Rain Dogs. All of these were in two adjoining rows. Music by Tom Waits, especially on vinyl, tends to be far too expensive for my tastes (usually running about thirty dollars, at the cheapest), so when I found Rain Dogs and the Heart of Saturday Night for fifteen dollars each, I jumped on them. Then Foreign Affairs turned up for ten, and shortly after that Sam found Nighthawks for five dollars and I nearly wet myself.

Of course I didn't stop there. I picked up a stack of other records. Most of that was less than five dollars each, and most of them were just a dollar. Still, I spent a ton of money. Oops.

While we were out, Sam and I stopped by to see our friend Ben at his place of work, Choo Choo Bob's Train Store and while we were there saw Dave King, one of the best drummers in Minnesota, and possibly one of the best in the nation. I thought it was him but I couldn't tell until he took off his sunglasses. He was in buying a toy for his son who loves trains. It was adorable. And fucking awesome. He was super chill about being recognized and thanked us for listening to his many bands (Happy Apple, Halloween, Alaska, the Bad Plus, and the Gang Font featuring Interloper) and asked us what we were up to. When we told him we had been out record shopping he got excited and asked us if we'd been to the new Eclipse Records location, where we had just come from. He started telling us stories about when Happy Apple used to play at the old location but his son was getting restless so he took off with a final, "Thanks. Nice to meet you guys!" It sort of felt like that really cute guy or gal you've had a crush on stopped you to say they like your outfit. Except it was a jazz drummer and he told us to have a good afternoon.

This weekend in general has been really great. Gringo and Grinaldo as well as our friend Ali came over last night and we just sat passing around a bottle of wine on my patio. It was wonderful. Then I slept outside. No joke. I decided it was a nice night and the moon was a nice nightlight, so I dragged a couple of pillows and my sleeping bag out onto our upstairs balcony/deck. The sun woke me up early and I spent the next few hours drifting in and out of sleep until I decided it was probably time for breakfast. I haven't had breakfast all summer due to monetary constraints. (Here's where you tell me that food is more important than music, and I reply "Screw you.") The weekend will continue to be stellar when I attend a birthday/going away party for and hosted by my friend Adam. Formal attire is required and all of my closest friends who remain in town will be in attendance. I can not even begin to explain how excited I am.

half blind we wrote ... on sheets of salty wood

I just finished reading the play The Seafarer by Conor McPherson and I was blown away. It is brilliantly written and packed with wonderful themes of redemption and belief. I don't want to give anything away, but the end is stunning, and the second act, especially, is thrilling simply because of the dialogue. I imagine that if I saw it performed I would be on the edge of my seat the entire time. Do yourself a favor and read it as soon as you can.

I'm also reading the book The World Without Us by Alan Weisman. I'm only a third of the way through with it, but already it's one of the most important and easy to read books on our impact, as humans, on the environment that's been written recently. It's terrifying and humbling, but also strangely comforting. The narrative style in which it's written subtly drives the hard to fathom points Weisman is making, while making it a fairly easy read. It's scholarly in the sense that he did a huge amount of research, but it is not written in a dense "scholarly" way. Again, I reccomend it highly. I'll write more about it when I actually finish reading it.

The play I was acting in ended this past weekend and the past two evenings that I've had to myself have been marvelous. I didn't want to be in the production, but did it as a favor both to the director and her husband, my boss. I had fun, but I didn't feel like I gained anything from it because the director was forced to work on basic acting techniques with the inexperienced actors. I've been thankful to have my evenings to myself again. They've been emmensely productive, to the point that it's actually rather sickening. I love it.

the misguided insects crowned me their grasshopper king with a dance of celebration

Summer is almost over and I don't quite know how I feel about it. It's been nice to be relatively cut off from everyone. I feel like I've settled down into my own comfortable pace and all too soon I'll have to speed up again or get left behind. In an ideal world, my comfortable pace would mean that I do my thing, and when everyone else comes speeding around the track I'll spend a few lovely moments with them.

I am excited to have people back on campus, I just don't want to feel like this summer of sitting back and slowing down has been a waste. I've resolved to not over commit this year. There are a few things that I haven't really been involved in on campus that I'd like to be involved with. I love theatre and being involved in it, but I don't want to get burned out on it. I'll be designing lights for two shows this year: one in the fall and one in the spring. At this point, I don't plan on auditioning for anything, so the extent of my theatre work will be on the lighting crew.

I also want to get involved with the concert crew. I've been encouraged, even asked, to be a part of it, but I've always been too involved in the theatre and haven't been able to. This year I'm going to make an effort to get more bands from the Twin Cities down to campus. Not to sound arrogant, but my tastes in music are eclectic enough that I think I would be a good fit for the committee. In addition to being on the concert committee, I'm planning on having my drums on campus (finally!) and making some music again (finally!). I've missed playing regularly. In high school drumming, especially with others, was therapy and meditation for me, so being cut off from that was hard. Finally, I'm going to have a radio show again. I had two different ones this past year; one each semester. The new one is going to be devoted Minnesota musicians (so, as one of my friends joked, my own version of the Current).

So that's what's been on my mind lately. Gringo and I are thinking of starting a music blog. We had the idea separately, but almost at the same time, which was strange. I'm not sure what it would consist of, but, then again, we haven't actually talked about it yet.

In other news, I've been renewing my love affair with the band mewithoutYou. I absolutely adore their sound and their lyrics. Lovely. Here's the first song I ever heard by them. Incidentally, it was because I saw this very video.

Water Weighted her Wings

There's a storm rolling through right now and I absolutely love it. It's one of those perfect storms when all the lightning is just on the horizon, all of the thunder is distant and, every now and again, wind blows water from the leaves on the trees giving the illusion that the rain has begun to fall harder. I sat outside under an awning and simply watched the patterns of the lighting in the clouds. It almost looks playful, like a game of tag, until you see a particularly sharp edged fork of electricity jump from clouds to some distant object. It's in these moments that one becomes aware of the sheer power of mother nature, and is reminded of their appreciation for the earth.

On top of this, I'm feeling creative, but not manic. I had a great night last night and a productive day today, so this evening is pure contentment. The only way it could be any better is if I could curl up with someone special and watch the water bead up on the window and talk about nights like these.

my Church is the Water; my Home is underneath the Shady Pine

There are some days that feel so awful that it seems nothing will salvage it. Yesterday was one of those days. I was feeling off all day and then the incident I wrote of yesterday occurred. I wasn't hurt by the comment, really, but a chunk was taken out of my faith in humanity. It hurt more knowing that there are people who are able to sleep at night and act like total pricks during the day. So I went about the rest of the day feeling upset and lonely.

One of the drawbacks of living on campus during the summer is it is very easy to fall into a rut seeing the same people day after day. I love my roommate and the few friends I have on campus, but occasionally I feel like I'm missing everything going on elsewhere.

Here's where my day completely turned around: I made a few phone calls and was able to talk to my friend Gringo for a solid twenty minutes. That doesn't sound like much, but we haven't been able to talk or hang out since early June (I think - it's been awhile at any rate). It was comforting knowing there are other people in the universe. I was also able to talk to my good friend Miss Molly and Carly. Miss Molly is at home in South Dakota, near the boarder of SoDak and Wyoming. Carly is in a suburb of the Twin Cities, but I don't see or hear from her nearly enough.

I'm not good at being on the phone. I find myself easily distracted an inexplicably nervous, especially if it's someone I don't know well, so three phone calls, the shortest of which was ten minutes, were a big step for me. I felt good making an effort to feel more connected, rather than just wallowing in my own self pity and loneliness. For me, not calling is often easier than calling someone. I'm making progress toward being a functioning adult, while not becoming a grownup.


Remember that book list I had on here awhile ago? I haven't made any progress on that one, but I am finally reading Walden and Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau. I'm excited because one of my dreams is to own a cabin in Northern Minnesota, near a small town, where I can simply live and work. I don't necessarily want to cut myself off from humanity, but the idea of living in a relatively peaceful place where I can retreat is a wonderful fantasy of mine. I'd like to have a small cabin where I can live and a shed or studio of some sort where I can work. That's important to me, to be able to separate living from working.

If anyone is interested, I suggest we pool our resources and get a large plot of land on a small lake. We can each have a cabin and we can have a larger communal working space. A commune of sorts. Collaborative works as well as individual projects will all be encouraged. I just love this idea. A headquarters for the CHURCH of the PAGAN POETS.

So, I guess that means I'm fat?

Sometimes situations are just so absurd that I can't quite understand how or why they happened. Today I had an encounter that lasted less than seven seconds and was utterly ridiculous. I was out running and was near a grade school when I saw a minivan approaching. Nothing out of the ordinary until a man leaned out the rear passenger window and proceeded to stare at me. When the van drew even with me he shouted, "Your tits bounce more than a girl's!"

What. The. Fuck.

I'm just glad that any self esteem issues I have little to nothing to do with my weight. Dumb. Just dumb.

Movies, movies, movies.

I realized today that I had not actually posted the tract as I said I would. If you go to the previous post (titled, "there's still half of summer left!"), it's at the end, where I promised it would be originally. I apologize for being delinquent.


I watched Howl's Moving Castle last night. It was originally recommended to me because I like the movie Spirited Away. I was underwhelmed by Howl's Moving Castle, mostly because Spirited Away is such a stellar film. If you have seen neither film, both are very good, though for your money, Spirited Away is a much better film.

Speaking of films I've seen recently, Slam and SlamNation are both great. Slam was written, in part, by Saul Williams, who also stars. SlamNation is a documentary about the 1996 National Poetry Slam. Saul Williams is also in this one, though in a much smaller role. It's hard to compare the two considering they are from entirely different genres but, of the two, SlamNation was my favorite. I enjoyed the diversity of the poetry.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is next on my list of films to watch. I recently discovered the DVDs in my school's library and, despite the fact that they're being re-shelved so the majority of the titles are off of the shelves, I've found these gems and I plan to go back. I've also managed to fuck the system and keep them a full two days longer than normal. Checking them out on a Wednesday means that they aren't due until the following Monday. Take that three day policy! It's not actually fucking the system in anyway, but it's a way around it. Not that I ever actually watch a film more than once in a week. To me, that feels like a waste of time.

In that spirit, any suggestions for films I should see? I can't guarantee that they'll be in the library, or accessible at the moment but it's worth a shot.

There's still half of summer left!

I've been ill. I don't know exactly what I did but my legs and lower back ache worse than I've ever felt and my throat hurts. I actually had to leave work early because the pain became unbearable. I took some medication and I'm feeling better. I can only hope that the pain goes away before tomorrow. At the very least I'd like it to subside a little.

For the past two weeks I've been house sitting with my summer roommate for one of our theatre professors. She was in Italy for a directing conference. Today was our last day, which means that tonight is our first night in our dorm room since about two weeks ago. Somehow it had become a mess without us even being here. I've spent the evening straightening up and reorganizing. My desk looks lovely. The only thing missing is a typewriter. If you know of anyone who has a typewriter they're willing to part with, I'd love to know.

I should have mentioned this ages ago, but I suppose now is as good a time as any. A few months ago I found out about a project called The Tract House by Lisa Anne Auerbach. I thought it sounded like a really cool project and I decided to write my own tract and send it to her. My tract is the ninth one down in the third column (it can also be seen at the end of this post). It's called "A Call Into My Arms." I'm very proud of it. Please, print it out and give it to your friends. I also encourage you to print any of the other tracts that inspire you in any way. There are some absolutely stellar pieces, and some horrendous ones as well. All are fun to look at, however. Ms. Auerbach sent me a package with one of each of the tracts as well as twenty-five or so of my own. She included a very sweet handwritten note thanking me for my contribution.

It's halfway through summer and, as such, the second summer school session has started here which means my Introduction to Stage Combat course has started. I'm sure I'll have some interesting stories to share once the really fun stuff gets underway. Today we simply had an introduction to the course and watched a film called By the Sword featuring Mia Sara aka Ferris Bueller's girlfriend, Sloan. She's rather attractive in an early '9os sort of way. The class is small and should prove to be physically taxing, but incredibly rewarding.

I Am OK (I Promise)

I just bought an address book. After months of writing addresses down on scraps of paper (and inevitably losing those scraps), I finally found myself a little black book. It actually says "my little black book" on the cover. I have ways of taking care of that. I'm excited about this purchase. I've been writing more and more letters of late and I've been enjoying it more and more. I feel like a "professional" now, as silly as that sounds.

Some of my friends from high school visited me last night. It was wonderful just drinking beer, telling jokes and talking. It's been awhile since I've felt that sense of comfort with a group of people. It was nice to be reminded of that.

I am content. For the time being, I am content.

It's things like this that make me want to teach

Too long, too long...

I just finished up a week as a counselor at a Theatre Camp here at my school and it was absolutely incredible. I've worked at camps and in child care before, but this was miles beyond everything I've done in the past. These kids are talented and bright (with a few exceptions to both of those adjectives), and they were excited about theatre. I can not express just how exciting that was to watch.

The campers moved in last Sunday afternoon and we spent the evening getting to know one another. It was awkward at first, sure. No one really knew anyone else. There were a few groups that knew each other from school, but most of them were just meeting each other and, of course, just meeting us, the counselors.

Day two, Monday, was marginally less awkward but there was still a lot of observing reactions and figuring people out. By the third day, though, we'd settled into a rhythm of sorts and things were getting better. By that time we'd assigned scenes and gotten to work on those. Watching these kids work was inspiring! Never have I asked a group of kids to get to work, and actually have them get excited about it!

The questions they asked about their scenes - and their monologues, when those were handed out on Wednesday - were intelligent and thought out. Seeing their work and seeing them implement the notes we gave them was humbling.

Yesterday, Saturday, we had a performance for their parents. I watched from the booth while I ran lights. Watching parents reactions to the work of their kids was satisfying beyond belief, as was having them thank us for the week. One parent nearly broke down in tears when we told her we thought her son was ready to move on to some more intensive coaching. She informed us that he always got shy when he performed at school. She had never seen him perform before! We were floored at this news and assured her that, given a few years with the right coaching, he could audition and get cast professionally.

One camper in particular stands out to me. She had attended this camp last year but almost didn't stick out the week this year. She's one of the most mature and grounded individuals I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and she's only fifteen. She wanted to go home because she felt she didn't fit in with the other kids. We encouraged her to talk to certain of the older kids, and the more mature ones, and to sit with us at meals. She opened up a little and we got to hear a little about her experiences in theatre prior to the camp.

Her high school director is, for lack of a better word, a cock. He keeps her working on things backstage because he doesn't think she "looks" like an actor. The only thing that will come of this is that an incredibly talented young lady will be turned off to the theatre. I promise you that when the only women actors left in theatre look and sound like actors on the O.C., no one will ever produce a show again. One of the joys of live theatre is that you get to see mistakes! You get to see people who aren't perfect!

We gave this young lady a Joan of Arc monologue from Richard II and she nailed it. There are actors twice her age that would butcher this piece, but her presence and voice filled the room when she performed. We're extending the camp next year to include a second week of intensive coaching for campers who are ready to begin auditioning for schools and professionally. One of the reasons is this young lady and the treatment she's received at the hands of her incompetent high school director.

After the performance yesterday this girl sought us out and presented us with gifts. I had mentioned to a few of the campers that I'm writing a play, and that I'm designing lights for two shows this coming season. She gave me a pen that lights up. She gave the other student counselor, Francine, a key chain that says "it's all GOOD" - a phrase that Francine utters quite often - and a "grow your own monkey" kit - because Francine's parents kept her on a leash as a child and I imagined her as a monkey. For the camp directors she got a picture frame that sings a song from FAME. This girl is thoughtful and intelligent and deserves the best coaching. I can guarantee she'll be the one getting jobs in the theatre when her high school peers who are so often put in front of her are struggling to find work.

I wish I could tell more of the stories here. The week was incredible. The bonding I witnessed and was a part of during our free time was stunning. I'm excited to be a part of it again next year. I've already agreed to do both weeks.

Working Hard AND Hardly Working!

I mentioned feelings of productivity in my previous post and I meant to return to that idea a little but things got away from me (as often happens when I begin telling a story) and I didn't. That's what follow up posts are for, right?

In January I was working full time to get a show up and running here at school. It was a J-Term class but essentially I was doing for free what I'd like to do for a living in the future, albeit in a much more comfortable setting. One day an idea struck me, and I mentioned it to my boss for the month: How would he feel about hiring me to do maintenance and work on some projects over the summer? He liked the idea but couldn’t officially give me an answer until a few months later (midway through April, I believe) and the deal was done.

So here I am, living on campus and working twenty hours a week in the theatre. It’s a lot of menial work, but it pays pretty well and my only coworker is a wonderful girl I got to know pretty well at the end of the school year. We’re currently working on cataloguing all of our large props, which involves clearing shelves, taking a picture of every item, and getting everything back on the shelves tidier than we found it. It involves a lot of climbing and there is more dust than I’ve seen in my life on some of the shelves, but all in all, it’s pretty low stress.

However, the twenty hour work week means that I have a three day weekend as well as afternoons and evenings to do whatever I want. I’m not taking a summer class (yet) so I have no homework. I mentioned quite awhile ago that I’m working on writing a play. I’ve continued to work very hard on it and it is currently about twenty pages long and (I think) nearly finished. I’ve shared it with three or four people and gotten some positive feedback and some great critiques. My challenge now is making some of the choppy sections flow a little better and generally cleaning things up.

I’ve also been reading. A friend mentioned that she was reading a great novel, so I decided to look into it. I’m about two hundred pages into Alexander Theroux’s seven hundred page book Darconville’s Cat. Theroux has a pretentious writing style, often referencing obscure stories in both Greek and Roman mythology, as well as other classic literature, but occasionally he comes through with something absolutely beautiful. I’ve enjoyed the book so far and I’m excited to finish it as it’s been a very long time since I finished reading a book out of sheer love of reading.

I’ve also been reading many short plays in preparation for the directing classes I’ll be taking this coming school year. The final project of the second semester of the class is to present a half-hour one act play. My roommate was scrambling to find a show he’d like to direct when the assignment was given this past spring, and I know the majority of the class was worried that they hadn’t read enough plays to have anything to choose from. So I bought a little notebook in which I’ve kept notes on the plays that I read, including the title, playwright, number of characters (and the genders thereof) and what I thought of each play. I’ve surprised even myself with how well I’ve kept up on these notes and I’ve read at least one play a day since I got back to campus.

As an aside to that, if anyone reading has any suggestions of short plays I should look into, please let me know. Keep in mind, however, that I have no budget and a limited amount of time in which to actually work on the show. Simple is wonderful.

On top of all of the reading and writing I’ve been doing, my summer roommate, Scotty, and I cleaned our room in a big way. It was an absolute disaster zone and we now have actual floor space. I also spent two hours this afternoon scrubbing the disgusting bathroom attached to our room, which means that I won’t feel dirty again the instant I step out of the shower.

Now, noble reader, is probably where you’re thinking to yourself, Sure, he’s been productive all week, but summer has just begun! I know, I know, but I have a million other ideas for the rest of the summer. I plan to continue tweaking and cleaning up my play (challenge the first: give it a name). I also want to write sonnets. I have notes and a few lines written for a few of them, and I have an overall theme (which I don’t want to reveal just yet). I hope that by the end of the summer I’ll have become a writer that one could describe as “prolific.”

I’ve also got a list of books to read. It’s short at the moment, only because there are so many that I’d like to read that I’ve forgotten what they all are. Here’s the list at the moment:

• The Unbearable Lightness of Being - Milan Kundera
• Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close - Jonathan Safran Foer
• Everything is Illuminated - Jonathan Safran Foer

Again, please add to this list for me. I’m missing many titles and I have a lot of time on my hands.

Well. Now that I’ve turned in one of the longest entries I’ve ever written, I’m going to get ready for an evening of (probably drunken) revelry.

Every Day is a New Year

The next few months are looking to be exciting and entertaining. I haven’t been on campus a full week yet but already I feel more productive than I have in months. I think this makes up for just how useless I felt when I was at home. I enjoyed my time home but I felt like I wasn’t getting anything done. I suppose the change really did come with the meeting of the POETS. So my time at home wasn't a complete loss.

Speaking of which, I promised a little background on the CHURCH OF THE PAGAN POETS.

In high school, my friend Gringo and I were involved in the creation of our school’s annual literary magazine. As such, we came into contact with quite a number of great writers (as well as some people with pens and not a clue how to turn a phrase). One of the people we met was a quiet guy who, in my previous post, I referred to as both brother St. Louis and Tree. This young man wrote some fantastic poetry and was always a joy to be around. Sadly, Tree and I lost contact when he moved south to participate in AmeriCorps activities, mostly in Louisiana if I remember correctly (which is improbable).

This past academic year has been rough for me, something I believe I mentioned previously. A few months ago Tree began posting a poem or two on that wonderful and awful networking site Facebook. I enjoyed the poem very much and sent Tree a little note telling him so. That sparked a flurry of correspondence that helped my state of mind quite a bit.

In our correspondence the idea of starting a church of poets was thrown out. We’d find a church building, take the windows and doors off to let the outside in and begin holding services. The Sabbath would begin at sundown on Friday and end at sunrise on Sunday, at which time we would walk outside into the light and go about living our lives until the next Sabbath. Inside the church, anything goes as long as no one gets hurt. There would be copious amounts of alcohol and weed, sex would be acceptable at any time, on any surface, with any willing partner. Sermons would come in the form of poetry and short plays, music would be a constant. The paintings in the church would change weekly at the whim of the artists.

For me, this is a lovely idea but what has stuck out to me, and to us as a whole I think, is the idea of gathering a group of artists to share creations with one another, as well as create. I love the idea of collectives, which is what this is, really. As I said last time, if it continues to grow and include more visual artists, musicians and thespians, the name might have to change, but for now we’re still the CHURCH OF THE PAGAN POETS.

the CHURCH of the PAGAN POETS

I don’t update nearly as much as I’d like to and for that I apologize. I second guess myself when I think I have something I’d like to write about. I begin thinking people don’t care nearly as much as I do. Which is probably true, but I need to just start posting anyway. If things become too self indulgent here just let me know.

Actually, that’s the point, isn’t it? Writing is, by nature, a self indulgent occupation of time. I’ve been writing since eighth grade, which means that, at this point, I’ve been writing for almost nine years. Which isn’t very long, really, but considering that nine years is nearly half of my life, that’s pretty significant. I started writing in order to make sense of my head. Eventually it turned into something that I enjoyed (and continue to enjoy) and something I’m pretty good at.

So I’ve become content with being a self indulgent writer. In fact, I’ve found others like me and become good friends with them. Yesterday afternoon three of them came over to my house for what we called the first gathering of the CHURCH OF THE PAGAN POETS. Brother St. Andrew (Gringo), brother St. Louis (Tree) and brother St. Adam (Nicknameless) were all present. We grilled food, drank beer and shared our words. It was an incredibly satisfying experience; something I’d like to continue.

I also think it would be interesting for each of us to get small groups of artists together at our respective schools and have similar gatherings. I know that I for one have struggled being away from the creative people I surrounded myself with in high school. I have found other creative thinkers at school but nothing as solid as the group of friends I had in high school.

The idea of having cells of pagan poets and pagan choirs and pagan orchestras all over the Midwest is an exciting one for me. Really, I think we’d have to change the name of the church to the CHURCH OF THE PAGAN ARTISTS, which would feature preachers (the poets and actors), the pagan choirs backed by the pagan orchestras, and a congregation of people devoted to enjoying the arts.

I’ll write more on the inspiration for the CHURCH OF THE PAGAN POETS later, but right now I’m still riding high from the actual meeting.

l'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux

I can feel myself growing up. I'm not yet sure how to feel about that. When I turned twenty a few months ago I was so against being a "grown up" and I was so upset that I could no longer claim to be just "a stupid teenager." What I'm now trying to come to terms with is the fact that one can grow up and be a mature human being without becoming a "grown up." At least, I hope that is a fact.

This post and the last post are both products of the fact that I started seeing a therapist. The funny thing is, at this point, I've only been there once. My next appointment is next week. I hope that by starting to pinpoint the reasons I see the world the way I do will help me cope with that. I don't want to change that, necessarily, I just want to cope. I think that's all people can really do.

But I digress.

I grew up when I was in fifth grade or so, around the time my parents got divorced. The separation was not handled well (a fact that I identified about a year ago), and I was placed in the position of picking up the slack my parents left. When I was at dad's house I played the role of mom. When I was at mom's house I played dad. To this day I feel that my brother regards me as a parent figure a little bit. I've made an effort to become friends with him but I think I'll always be an "authority" to him.

I grew up a little more when I switched from the public school system to a private school for my freshman year of high school. I remember feeling oddly out of place because I had never before been in a private school. I also remember feeling a little uncomfortable with just how many white people were around me. My grade school, when I went there, had an almost seventy percent Asian (and mostly Hmong) student body. My middle school was also very diverse. I think the fact that in high school I found one of the few people from a rougher neighborhood and became best friends with him is telling.

When I got to college I was told, by many people, that I don't act my age. I can't even begin to count the number of times I've been mistaken for being older than I am. It's flattering, yes, but at a certain point I just wish I could be a kid forever. I've met a number of people who are very mature and intelligent, but still kids at heart. I love being around these people because when I'm with them I don't feel old. They get my energy moving and I finally start feeling like I'm getting back some of the childhood that I missed by forcing myself to grow up to cope with my parents needing me to be grown up.

What I've been trying (and probably failing) to get at with this post is this: I want to be content with growing up because I know I'll still keep my curiosity and sense of play. At the very least I want to be a grown up who won't try to snuff out the kid I find in the people I meet. And especially the children I meet. They deserve their childhood.

We were born to do extraordinary things

I've struggled with depression for my entire life, more or less. I've gone through some incredibly dark times, and some beautiful times as well. Recently, due to an array of reasons, some that I can pinpoint and others that I can not, I've been struggling again. I say this not to ask for pity, but simply because it is the truth. That's always how I've felt about depression. It is a truth that I must deal with. I don’t know why I must, but I must.

When I think of depression it is not a scientific thing. Reason tells me that it is a chemical imbalance, it can be treated, et cetera, ad infinitum. The way I view it, however, is as darkness, and more than that, as darkness manifested in the shape of a beast. I struggle with this, sword held high, armor, war cries and so forth.

I have a tattoo on my right hand on the web of skin between thumb and forefinger. I got this for many reasons, but mostly because it reminds me of hope. My good friend Adam sent me a letter last summer with this drawn on the outside:

It reminds me of a sunrise. The cross is the sun with three rays coming from it and the word hope is the horizon. Additionally, a more detailed sunrise is drawn on the inside. A few months later I found a similar image on the back of the vinyl packaging of a record called f#a#[infinity] by the band Godspeed You! Black Emperor. Adam and our friend Ben had turned me onto this band. Ben even has the title of that album tattooed on his right collarbone. I thought that it would make a very pretty and simple tattoo and a tribute to my friends in general. For Adam, because he drew the picture; for Ben, because he also has an image from the same record drawn permanently on his body; For Andy (and now Louis, too), because it's on my hand, clearly visible when I write. For all of my friends, because it gives me hope, as they do. I ended up using the image from the record as the image for my tattoo.

I thought long and hard before doing it. Indeed, the idea obsessed me for about two weeks prior to actually doing it. I decided that hope is something I will always need, that everyone needs, and since this simple cross with three dashes around it reminds me of that, I would do it. After getting it done someone pointed out to me that from another angle it looks like a sword. [Here's a picture of it taken moments after its completion. I can see all of the images I have described in the tattoo, especially in this picture.]

How fitting! Thought I, that this tribute to my friends, my brothers and sisters, my fellow knights, would look like a sword. I see us all as knights with minds, pens, ink and paper as weapons, each other as shields, our own passion as armor. We all have our dragons to fight. Mine, as I mentioned, is this beast, this darkness: my depression. However, that's not the only foe we fight. Every day, to me, is a battle or a quest. Why do anything if you do not do it boldly?

I've only recently begun to pinpoint the fact that this is how I view the world. It's coming to me slowly. Reading some of the anarchist literature I have has informed some of my ideas, but so has the reading I've been doing for my lit class, English Literature before 1650. I'm rather fond of this world view. Epic battles, dragons to slay, armor… It's all rather romantic and, as a poet, I like it a lot.

How to bring a college campus to a screetching halt

A funny thing happened today: it rained. Water. From the sky. No really!

On Tuesday and Thursday mornings I have a running and jogging class so I woke up a few minutes beforehand to put on some gym shorts and shoes and I walked down to the athletic center on campus. It was sprinkling a little bit but we ran outside regardless. It was actually rather refreshing. Shortly after taking my shower the power went out for about thirty seconds. No big deal. I went about the rest of my day doing what I normally would do: class, homework, food, et cetera.

Mid-afternoon rolled around and it was still raining on and off, and generally just wet and depressing. Fine, I was in a pretty good mood today and it the weather hadn’t really effected me at all. I knew it was going to get worse, but I was rather looking forward to a big storm.

At 3.17 PM (according to the email timestamp), the Area Coordinator of my dorm (whom I spoke of in Bad for the eyes, but good for something) sent a message out saying that due to issues caused by the morning power outage, the campus power would need to be shut off for anywhere from twenty minutes, to two hours. She didn’t know when it would happen.

Fine. I can deal with that. I was doing laundry at the time and I decided not to put the rest of it in, just in case the power went out while my clothes were still in either the washing machine or the dryer. I saved all of my documents on my computer, shut it down and unplugged it just to be on the safe side. I wasn’t too worried, but I want this computer to last for as long as possible. I settled in to do some reading.

At about five o’clock this evening I went downstairs with my roommate, Rossko, to get my laundry out of the dryer and put his in. We were walking out of the laundry room when the lights went out and every electrical device powered down. I’ll admit, I rather enjoy that sound. Or rather, the lack of sound. And now I’m getting to the meat of this post (I know, I’m longwinded).

As I said, it was about five o’clock when the power went out, and just getting to be the dinner hour. The rain had started to come down much harder and I still had some reading to do. So I folded my laundry and read for awhile before Rossko and I decided to head over to our student commons to see if the Caf was open. We didn’t have much hope that it would be. We were right.

What we found was confusion and chaos. It was rather disgusting. There were hundreds, literally, hundreds of students milling about waiting for the power to come back on and allow any of the three food service places in our student commons to open back up. All I could do was laugh. People were on phones frantically calling people (and, in many cases, texting in between the calls - also, I hate that the word “text” is now a verb) to let them know not to come to the Caf, “for God’s sake, find food somewhere else!” We called to order a pizza because, well, we were hungry. There was a one to two hour wait. We decided to walk down to our friend’s car and head into town to get some food as we all had things to do and couldn’t sit around waiting to eat. That was an adventure in and of itself, but that's not the point.

That half an hour or so in the student commons reiterated to me just how naïve many of the people on my campus have been their entire lives. They had no idea how to react to the sudden lack of things that have always been there for them. Things like food and electricity that really aren’t accessible in other countries. I began walking up to people and telling them things like “This is what the apocalypse will be like,” and, “You know, in other countries this is reality.”

I know that I am just as guilty of taking for granted things like food, shelter, electricity, et cetera, but I’d like to think that I handled this situation with grace. I settled in to do things that required no electricity and was prepared to be outside in the, gasp, rain. Sure, I was a little inconvenienced, but the hundreds of students in our commons were completely lost. I’m still not sure whether this is funny or heartbreakingly depressing.

The truth is the truth

I'm a nerd and I spend time reading online comics. One of my favorites for a long time has been Married to the Sea. This post is called "Oops thats not funny", But in a sick and scary way, it is funny. Because it's sort of true. This shit is scathing.


marriedtothesea.com

Bad for the eyes, but good for something.

Last night I attended what is quite possibly the craziest party I have ever attended. The music was loud, the hips were a swingin' and people were inebriated. And the best part? It was sanctioned by the "authorities" of my dorm on a dry campus. It cause quite a stir.

About two weeks ago it was the twenty-first birthday of a friend of mine. Unfortunately for her, it was on a Monday night. Two of our friends decided to throw a belated birthday party for her in the form of a rockin' dance party. Those two fellows go by the names Scotty Neon and Joey Colors. Since beginning the planning of this party they have added Molly Bright to their ranks and "started" a party planning company called Bright/Neon/Colors. This was their first official party (their first unofficial was a total failure and was thrown for yours truly. See me for that story).

Scotty Neon and Joey Colors contacted the Area Coordinator of our building to make sure the party could actually happen. Her stipulations were that they had to reserve the TV room (where they were planning on throwing the party) and it had to be over by quiet hours (meaning midnight on Saturday night). Fine. Room reserved, they headed over to the print center on campus to buy neon colored paper to decorate with. Next stop was our campus venue where they acquired some speakers and other sound equipment.

Invitations went out two days after the idea of the party was born. Printed on some of the neon paper was this:

SPRiNG FLiNG!!!
Axxxxx'S BiRTHDAY PARTY!!!
THiS SATURDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
W/ FREE MUSiC & DANCING!!!
DANCiNG STARTS @ 10 iN Mxxxxx!!!!!!!
SHOW UP EARLY!!! (SURPRISE!!!)
qUiET HOURS START @12!!!
FiRST EVER Mxxxxx BOUNCE* PARTY!!!

*Bounce: 1.to move or walk in a lively, exuberant, or energetic manner
DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!!

Each was hand addressed to some ninety invitees. The rest of the paper was used to print the word "PARTY!!!" on as many sheets of neon paper as possible (these lined the floor from the front door of the building to the room the party was in) and a huge biblical quote about dancing. I believe that it said something like "David danced for the Lord..." This quote was posted on one wall of the room and two long black lights were hung on the other side. A spinning light ball and a bubble machine completed the decorations in the room.

Just outside the room (in a computer lab, as a matter of fact) was a table with treats and snacks as well as a piece of art made by Joey Colors for a class. It consisted of a Bratz doll covered in paint and looking disheveled while holding a twenty-first birthday balloon. Her name is Party Girl (seriously).

In addition to all of this, signs were posted throughout the building and on every door of a room that would be affected (those in the same hallway as the TV room, and those directly above it) stating the time, place and nature of the event, and inviting one and all to join us. These were posted the morning of the event giving residents plenty of time to find another place to be if they wished to avoid it.

Preparations thus executed, it was time to party. At promptly ten in the evening (after partaking in some illicit activities in the privacy of my room) I walked down to the TV room to find music blasting and people dancing. I did not stop dancing for more than five minutes during the two hours I was there. At one point I ran into someone I hadn't seen for a few months and he said that he came because he heard the music from his dorm building a five minute walk away). Mission accomplished.

Everyone who came had a blast and at three minutes to midnight the music was shut off and people disbursed. I stayed and helped clean up the immediate mess (trash on the floor, the signs on the wall, the cable lying about behind the DJ booth, et cetera). Then we went to bed.

To recap: birthday party for a friend, legit in the eyes of the "authority" figure, loud as hell music, more sweat than you can shake a stick at, squeezed into two hours. The issue? Three (three!) complaints were raised to the Area Coordinator. Her response? Email the entire building and the director of campus housing with this little gem:

Residents of Mxxxxx Hall,
I am so very sorry for the noise level last night. I could offer a number
of excuses but none of them make up for the fact that the dance was as
loud as it was. I hope that you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.
I PROMISE that this will NEVER happen again.

Can I get a hell yes? Now, my building is a "nerdy" and typically quiet dorm. It has the only two "quiet" floors on campus. Nothing ever happens here. Today, it was the talk of campus because a few people couldn't handle it. So, our solution is to move to another building for the next party. The quote on the wall for the next one? "I PROMISE that this will NEVER happen again... in Mxxxxx Hall."

Here's a picture of me taken just outside of the party room sometime during the night's revelries:

Woosh. Long post. Good story. Hope you enjoyed.

Collecting Complaints

I should be working on a paper right now. One thousand words on three to ten lines of Canterbury Tales. I've got about eight hundred, so I'm doing alright, but I'm bored with it. And I don't really have a thesis or my three to ten lines picked out, so at the moment it's just a critical analysis of the Pardoner's Tale.

I'm working on writing a play. It's simply called Bitch, but that's really because I don't know what it's about yet. It started when I had the idea that it would be sweet to do a show that had a really minimal set consisting of a rotating stage with a card table and four chairs on it. There are four characters who talk while playing cards. I've been stealing and altering words from bands and my friends, as well as writing my own stuff. It's only five pages at the moment and it's really disjointed. I don't really know how to write a play. I'm making up my own rules, which I suppose is a good thing, but I wish I had some idea of what I'm writing about.

I was home over the weekend for my grandmother's funeral. It was a strange experience. I'd never been to a funeral, so in that sense it was odd, but it was also hard seeing and talking to my dad for the first time in four and a half years. In that time, he got married and I graduated from high school and moved on to college. We have a lot of catching up to do.

While I was home, my mind slipped into "break" mode because spring break is coming up in less than a week. It was dangerous. That's why I have this paper looming over my head. I also have a number of other midterm assignments due in the next few days. I would really like to be done with the next week so I can relax.

I ended up hanging out with my good friend Adam, as well as a few others while I was home. We talked and shared a pot of chamomile tea. It was a relaxing evening spent with good friends. It was something that I don't get here at school. Maybe I don't let people in as much as I let my friends in high school in, but I don't feel like I know anyone, or that anyone knows me, as much as I know my good friends from home. At school I feel like I'm constantly treading softly and making sure to not offend anyone, where as at home, I don't have to. I know the limits, and so does everyone else.

During the course of that night, Adam turned me on to a band called Defiance, Ohio. All of their music is available for download from their website. They remind me of a mix between Murder by Death and Against Me! which is a very good thing in my book. I especially like their latest release The Fear, The Fear, The Fear. There's some really beautiful stuff happening in their music, between the lyrics, the strings, the minimalism, the recording quality and the work ethic they have. I appreciate it a lot, and recommend it very highly.

That's enough for now. I'll have a more substantial and less vain post soon, hopefully. Until then, be well.

Going to Glory

It's been far too long.

First, the show I've been working on for the past three weeks just closed. It was a phenomenal show and I'm very proud to have worked on it. I was very happy with the way my sound design turned out and how it was received, and I was overwhelmed by how well the show went over. It was stunning. I'm especially proud that one of my peers directed it, and eight of my peers acted in it. The talent that I am constantly surrounded with is incredible.

Ok. Enough of that. On to serious things.

Last August, both of my grandmothers were diagnosed with different types of cancer. Two weeks apart. That in itself was difficult for me to handle, but even harder was the fact that my paternal grandmother chose to forgo treatment entirely. She decided that at eighty, she had lived a full life and was ready to, in her words, "go to glory." How does one begin dealing with the fact that a loved one has decided to gracefully step out of this life and into another one? I wish I knew.

This past Monday my grandma Rita passed away. I have been very blessed up to this point in my life, in the respect that the only grandparent I lost, I never knew in the first place. In fact, I've never had a close family member pass away in my lifetime. My grandma Rita's husband, my grandpa John, died before I was born. Rita then remarried my step-grandpa Tom who has, for me, simply been grandpa Tom.

As far as I can tell, I'm fine, though at this point I'm very removed from the situation. I haven't seen my grandma since December, though I've talked to her on the phone and corresponded via the U.S. Postal Service. I'm at school at the moment with no way to get home until Thursday, just in time for the visitation. I can only imagine that when I get home, the weight of what has happened will hit me. At this point, nothing has.

The initial jolt of, "Grandma Rita passed away today," has passed and my life has gone on. It's had to. I have school work to do, friendships to maintain, and a future to look forward to. I like to think that grandma Rita would approve of this. She wasn't a very fussy woman (except when it came to grammar - I hope I'm serving her well, English major that I am), so I think she would have expected us to grieve briefly and move on.

Obviously, she was a strong and graceful woman to decide to "go to glory" in the way that she did. It was her decision all along. I can only hope that someday I will be as strong as her. I never intended for this blog to be a place for me to share my poetry, but I wrote something over the past few months after finding out that both of my grandmothers were sick. Here it is:

i’m holding on to every word
that i imagine You would say
if You were to pass this way
before you leave the world.

things like:
"I'll watch everything you
do
and be proud just the same
I'll watch everything you
do
And love you just the same."

we were never that close
but we were close enough.
though, it's next to impossible
for me to describe
the changes You have made
to my being.

You were and are
beautiful.
You are and will always be
beautiful.

You embody the word
mother
and are every bit as grand
as Your title implies.

i'll miss the little things.

Al Capone thanks you for the card

It's been far too long since I spewed the contents of my mind onto my computer. Much of that is due to the fact that second semester has begun. As such, much of my brain power is being diverted from creative endeavors to scholastic work. This is a sad reality, but a reality nonetheless.

I wish I could say that my classes have given me a lot to ponder, that ideas are flowing between my professors and myself. Sadly, that is not the case. I am reading Beowulf, something I have wanted to do for some time and am now getting to do for class. It's a wonderful poem and I highly recommend it.

The only thing that has been kicking around my mind recently, aside from classes, is the fact that I am no longer a teenager. I turned twenty a week ago. I meant to write a post commemorating the occasion but was distracted by a number of things. Most notably, St. Valentine's Day.

My birthday happens to fall on Valentine's day, and every year I have mixed feelings about this. As a child, I was always a little angry that the decorations weren't for me, and that everyone got cards on my day. I have utmost pity for anyone whose birthday falls on or near Christmas or any other gift giving holiday. On the other hand, people respond differently to the fact that it's my birthday than they would otherwise.

As I grew older and came to understand what Valentine's day meant to our society at large, I became even more angry. "Should not people tell one another that they care on every day of the year?" thought I. "Of course they should!" I responded. This is, of course, not necessarily reasonable. What really irks me about the holiday is just how much stock people take in it. I simply can not believe how many relationships are made and broken on February the Fourteenth.

Now, I have a girlfriend. We've been together for over a year now, and have had two Valentine's Day's together. I was frank with her last year and said that I don't like the holiday. I feel like such a whiny bastard saying that because it is my birthday but, the fact is, I wouldn't like it either way. So I made a point to tell her that I appreciate her, but I make a point to do that anyway.

Another thing that irks me about the holiday is the number of people who make a big deal out of the fact that I do not make a big deal about the holiday. Here's my response to them: "Wouldn't you rather people celebrated you were it your birthday?" Sure, it's a little vain but, to be fair, I don't sound like such an asshole when I say it.

I guess it's my way of telling people to not take too much stock in a holiday on which a massacre occurred (and here I'm referring to the St. Valentine's Day Massacre of 1929, not the horrible tragedy that occurred at Northern Illinois University last week).

...continued

This post is to continue the conversation that Miss Molly began with her post cansei de ser sexy, specifically Martha's response.

Martha brings up an interesting point; one that I hadn't crossed my mind. How much does the paparazzi contribute to the making of gossip, how much is the celebrities, and how much do we, as the public consuming this media, contribute? It's not a simple question to answer, and I don't want to propose that I have it all figured out.

However, we live in a capitalist society where the gods Supply and Demand rule. There are plenty of celebrities and, consequently, plenty of celebrity gossip. The public demands the gossip, almost nonstop, then we get bored. We're tired of Lindsay Lohan's alcohol issues, we no longer care about which one of the Olsen twins has an eating disorder. We need something new and the media supplies it, occasionally when there isn't really anything there.

What I'm saying is that it goes both ways. As the media-watching public, we're guilty of demanding a certain amount of celebrity gossip. On the other hand, the media needs to keep people interested. Magazines need readers, subscribers preferably. MTV needs viewers. How do they keep those subscribers and viewers? Give them what they want.

I agree, some celebrities pull through and do something good with their status. Martha mentioned Angelina Jolie. Bono is another (though U2 should give it up). These two realized that they are in a position to make change on a much grander scale than most people (though I hasten to add that most people, i.e. you, do have the power to make changes). I applaud those two for their efforts. They are noble and necessary.

Here's what I propose: Let's hold celebrities accountable. I have no delusions of getting rid of celebrity gossip but I think that the public has - we have - the ability to demand that our celebrities use their status to make changes. I want Paris Hilton to advocate for animal rights. I want Usher to teach voice lessons to kids whose schools cut music funding. We point out every other fault that celebrities have, why not point out their lack of humanitarian efforts?

Martha also mentioned that "sometimes the kitschy ending of an episode of "Grey's" is just enough to lull me into a restful sleep." And that's fine. That’s the entertainment side of television which, as I mentioned in my previous post, is still valid and, yes, necessary. Sometimes we need an escape, and allowing television to entertain us is a wonderful escape. I'm no different. My worry is that many people only follow that escape. Many people aren't aware of "the terrifying changes to our global environment, the unprovoked preemptive strikes and their consequences, and bigoted legislature and issues we need to take action upon" as Martha stated.

I'm not accusing Molly or Martha of this, I'm simply restating the point I made in my last post: television is a valid medium for entertainment, but that's not it's full potential. It also has the capability to educate.

I love and respect you both. I hope we can continue this conversation.

Re: cansei de ser sexy

This post is a response to this post by my good friend Miss Molly.

cansei de ser sexy is a interesting post to read, especially for me. Molly and I have talked about my distaste for celebrity gossip and television in general. Call me an elitist, I just don't like it. Some of it has to do with advertising, but that's not the extent of it.

I really appreciate Molly's ideas on why she enjoys celebrity gossip, etcetera, and I'm very glad to know that, at least for her, watching television is not an escapist thing. Molly uses television as a way to relate to those around her. This is a natural thing, I think. People look for ways to bind them to those they love and respect. Molly uses television; I use music. In short, Molly is saving up conversations for later, and that’s great. Not only is she being entertained, but she doesn't cut herself off from those around her. Rather the contrary.

Molly said one thing in particular that struck me, and that is this: "[H]igher culture ... tends to be more exclusive than something we can all do: turn on a TV." Essentially, this is true. Television is a very easy thing to do, and it's relatively inexpensive. On top of that, people are almost looked down upon for not watching TV, and even more so if they don't even own a television.

This gets to another reason I don't particularly enjoy television: I don't like the feeling of being conditioned to do something, especially when most media outlets are owned by six companies. This is probably hypocritical of me to say; I'm sure there are things that I do that are equally conditioned in me as television is in most others.

I recently (finally) got around to watching a wonderful film called Good Night, and Good Luck. It is about broadcast journalist Edward R. Murrow who, in the 1950's, took a stand against Senator Joseph McCarthy, a fear monger exploiting the Red Scare to his own advantage. The film follows Murrow who decided to take a stand against McCarthy at great cost to himself. Other journalists were afraid to say what he said for fear of being labeled a communist themselves.

One of the things the film highlights, aside from saying that journalists should be watchdogs, not lap dogs, is the role of television in society. Murrow argues, eloquently, that television can be a tool for educating as well as entertaining saying, "let us dream to the extent of saying that on a given Sunday night the time normally occupied by Ed Sullivan is given over to a clinical survey of the state of American education, and a week or two later the time normally used by Steve Allen is devoted to a thoroughgoing study of American policy in the Middle East."

I'd like to note than I'm only arguing that television should do more than entertain. As Murrow says at the close of the film, "[if] this instrument is good for nothing but to entertain, amuse and insulate, then the tube is flickering now… . This instrument can teach, it can illuminate; yes, and it can even inspire. But it can do so only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends. Otherwise it is merely wires and lights in a box. Good night, and good luck."

Indeed.

Hi, My Name is Timmy Troubadour and I'm Starring in a Film

At the end of last semester, my friend Laural told me that she was going to be filming her senior project during January. Laural created her own major: Directing for the Stage and Screen. In her proposal for this major she said that her senior project would have something to do with Shakespeare's Hamlet in some way.

So, in December, she held auditions for her screen adaptation of Heiner Müller's six page play Hamletmachine. It’s a dense piece of work, but it's fantastic. I auditioned and was cast in the role of Hamlet, one of two speaking roles in the film (I know, right? Who wants to hear me talk?).

It's been an interesting and exciting experience but it's very different than my background in stage theatre. Unlike theatre, you spend a few hours rehearsing (in our case, about half an hour for each scene) and then simply do it. If you don't like it, you do it again. Even when you do get it right, you do it again. And again because the director wanted a different camera angle. And again because you flubbed a line. And again because the lighting needs to be changed.

But once you've finished a scene; once the director has said "cut" one final time, you can forget all of your blocking and all of your lines.

Filming is a new beast to me, and I can't yet tell if I'm doing it right or not, or if I'm doing it well. I haven't seen much of what we've filmed, and even the stuff I have is not anywhere near complete. Laural still has to edit everything together to create a cohesive whole, and she is doing a little bit of animation over the top of some scenes. For example, in one scene Ophelia will have a clock animated over her heart, and in another, three boxes will have video clips over them to simulate television screens.

We'll wrap up filming in the next two weeks or so and Laural will spend the next month or two editing, animating and working with the composer on a score. Sometime in April the final product will premier on campus. It will be just shy of twenty minutes long (probably; the script we're working from is seventeen pages long). At that time, Laural will get feedback from viewers and professors that she can, ideally, use later on in life. The actors (myself included) will be critiqued and examined in every way and that’s the end of it.

I'm still learning all of the parallels between film and theatre. I'm still learning what mistakes I can and can not make. I'm still learning just about everything. I'm even relearning how to act. This whole experience is new to me.

Top Ten Albums of 2oo7

It's a week into the new year, and I still haven't had to write 2oo8 yet. Aside from just now. I'm still in 2oo7. So before anything exciting happens in aught eight, here's my Top Ten Albums of 2007.

10) the Locust - New Erections
When I first heard the Locust I laughed them off as being too heavy and ridiculous. Thirty second long bursts of noise? That's not music. That takes no talent. Wrong! This album is so complex that I couldn’t begin to learn how to play the parts in a million years. These guys do some incredible things with incredible precision at incredible speeds. This isn't noise; it’s well written and focused bursts of energy. Every single note on this record is intentional. New Erections is the Locust's longest recording (twenty-three minutes) to date, and it is as dense as a brick of lead. Multiple listens are required in order to even begin to absorb this beast but with song titles like "the Unwilling...Led by the Unqualified...Doing the Unnecessary...For the Ungrateful" and "God Wants Us All to Work in Factories" you can’t really go wrong. Also, see them live. It will blow your skull.
Favorite Tracks: "Book of Bot," "We Have Reached An Official Verdict: Nobody Gives a Shit"

9) Against Me! - New Wave
Last year, I included a list of bands that I was excited to hear new music from. Against Me! is one of the bands that delivered, and then some. I picked up this record the day it came out simply because I happened to be at the record store that day. At first listen I wasn't as impressed with New Wave as I had been with previous recordings. It's a highly polished record produced by Butch Vig (the man behind Nirvana's Nevermind and the Smashing Pumpkin's Siamese Dream). Tegan Quin of Tegan & Sara sings guest vocals on "Bourne on the FM Waves of the Heart." The slick sheen on the record turned me off at first because I was expecting the gritty sound of their earlier work. Subsequent listens changed my mind entirely. It's a straight up pop record written by a punk band and it’s great from start to finish. Tracks like "Piss and Vinegar" and "Americans Abroad" retain the group's grittier sound, while "Bourne on the FM Waves" and "Thrash Unreal" are pop gems.
Favorite Tracks: "the Ocean," "Up the Cuts"

8) the Bad Plus - Prog
Anything that Dave King (drummer of the Bad Plus) touches turns to gold. He's in four bands (the Bad Plus, Happy Apple, Halloween, Alaska and the Gang Font feat. Interloper) as well as doing studio work and one off bands. Happy Apple also released a record this year and I would probably put it on this list, however I just got it a few days ago and haven’t had a chance to listen to it yet. Front to back, Prog is the strongest release in the Bad Plus catalogue. Jazzed up covers of pop and rock songs are intermingled with original compositions by the band members. Every song on here is great. This isn't shtick, it's art.
Favorite Track: "Physical Cities"

7) Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago
This was a surprise album for me this year. I've found that my tastes don’t generally include this sort of quiet, solo, introspective style, but damn it all if Justin Vernon (known here as Bon Iver, a misspelling of the French phrase for "good winter") didn't make one of the most stark and beautiful albums of the year. This album is catharsis. This album is Northwestern Wisconsin and heartache rolled into one. This album is beautiful. It's orchestral in a stripped down way, and Vernon's croon only adds to the loneliness that the music evokes. I love this record, and you should too.
Favorite Track: "Skinny Love"

6) Explosions in the Sky - All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone
This is the most realized album that Explosions in the Sky have made, and for some reason it makes me think of winter. Songs like "Catastrophe and the Cure" and "So Long, Lonesome" are so perfectly orchestrated that one stray note or extra beat would throw off the whole album. I don't really like listening to just one song from this record; it's best heard as a whole, which is a testament to the ability of the band to craft albums as a whole. This album, along with Bon Iver's Skinny Love are not only two of the best albums of the year, but also the loneliest.
Favorite Tracks: "the Birth and Death of the Day," "So Long, Lonesome"

5) Iron & Wine - the Shepherd's Dog
I never got into Iron & Wine's early work. I always liked it, but it wasn’t really something I sat down to listen to. That all changed when Sam Beam released his third full length album, the Shepherd's Dog, under the Iron & Wine moniker. My friend played the track "White Tooth Man" for me and I was enthralled by the sitar that fades in to begin the song. After listening to the whole album and fell in love with the things Beam does with his voice and what he's done musically. What I love the most about the album is how much each song works to create the whole. Every song is strong, but the whole album is more than the sum of its parts. That's such a rare feat these days that I have to love it.
Favorite Track: "White Tooth Man," "Boy with a Coin"

4) Building Better Bombs - Freak Out Squares
Before picking up this record I had only heard one song by Building Better Bombs ("Lookout!"). Then I saw Freak Out Squares at Cheapo. On purple vinyl. Naturally, I bought it. In the past four days, it's spun on my record player’s spindle over twenty times. One member of the group (Stef Alexander) is better known by his nom de rap, P.O.S., and two more members are also in indie hip hop crew Mel Gibson and the Pants (who are featured in a moment). That said, Building Better Bombs' Freak Out Squares is one of the best punk/hardcore albums I have ever heard. It starts with a train wreck ("This is a Gang") followed by a car wreck ("No Handouts"). From there, they continue to take their punk influences and infuse them with the hip hop and indie influences from their other groups, even including a little melody in the mix. Energetic from start to finish it fits punk conventions by being less than half an hour (27 minutes), but, other than that, doesn't quite fit the genre. Which is why I like it. It's too hard for the indie kids and too melodic for the hardcore kids. And just right for me.
Favorite Track: "No Hospitals"

3) Streetlight Manifesto - Somewhere in the Between
Last year I said that if Streetlight Manifesto released anything then it would make this list. That was bold of me. I was worried that they would release something… shitty. I should not have worried. Thomas Kalnocky is an amazing songwriter and Somewhere in the Between showcases not only his talent for writing songs, but the talent of every musician in the band. The horns are bright and tight, the bass lines are solid, and the drums are fast and precise. This record got flack for being too similar to Everything Goes Numb, Streetlight's debut album, but I don't see that as a bad thing. For me, I was every bit as excited while listening to Somewhere as I was when I first heard Numb nearly four years ago. Maybe that huge gap between albums had something to do with that, but either way, songs like "We Will Fall Together," "Somewhere in the Between" and "Forty Days" make me drop everything to marvel at the brightness of the horns, the tightness of the rhythm section, the guitar licks and the lyrics. The only downside to this album is that it's so short. Ten songs? I'm craving just a little more.
Favorite Tracks: "Would You Be Impressed?" "Forty Days"

2) Mel Gibson and the Pants - Sea vs. Shining Sea
Mel Gibson and the Pants sort of blindsided me with goodness. I had heard their tracks with P.O.S. and Cecil Otter so I was intrigued by them. When I finally got the chance to hear more, I became militant about sharing Sea vs. Shining Sea with my friends. This is a new kind of hip hop; there really isn't anything like it. Indie, drum n' bass and hip hop fused into one live band who collaborate with anyone and everyone they can get into the recording studio. Guests Harold Sanders, Crescent Moon, Sims, Mike Mictlan and Dessa flow in and out of this album making it stronger, but not stealing the spotlight. Which is kind of the point. I expected to like this record, but I didn't expect to fall in love the way I did. I can't get enough of this.
Favorite Tracks: "Stress Fracture," "Spurs of Steel"

And now, the best album of 2oo7:

1) Aesop Rock - None Shall Pass
I don’t even know where to start with this brilliant outing by Aesop Rock. The beats are stellar, the guest artists are sick (John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats!), and Aese himself? Flow. He's made of pure flow. Blockhead, producer of half of the album, is simply on fire here. Check the title track, "Bring Back Pluto" and "Getaway Car" for proof. Aesop Rock knows what he's doing, and this album showcases that talent. He knows which words to stress and how much. I've rocked this album more than any other released this year (though it's a close call; I rocked Mel Gibson and the Pants about the same number of times), and I haven't gotten sick of it. Even the hidden track isn't a throwaway track, and it contains one of the best lyrics of the year: "If Noah had the benefit of hindsight on his ship, they could'a snatched two unicorns and left behind the motherfuckin' pigs." Go get this album. Now.
Favorite Tracks: "None Shall Pass" "Coffee" and the hidden track "Pigs"

Runners Up:
the Weakerthans - Reunion Tour
"Civil Twilight" is a beautiful song, and this whole record is great, but I didn’t get into it like I got into Reconstruction Site.

Brother Ali - the Undisputed Truth
Scathing and amazing, but it was ousted by Aesop Rock.

Circa Survive - On Letting Go
This record is technically perfect which is why it didn’t make the list. Where Juturna was a band exploring a new sound, On Letting Go is a band perfecting a sound. It's a great album, but not as exciting as their early work. (NOTE: That distinction is important. Earlier I said that Streetlight Manifesto's Somewhere in the Between is similar to their first album, but that this is a good thing. On Letting Go just doesn’t excite me as a new album in the way Somewhere in the Between does.)

Gogol Bordello - Super Taranta!
Again, this is a band comfortable in their sound and it’s a fun album to listen to but it’s a hair shy of their previous record, Gypsy Punks: Underdog World Strike.

Sage Francis - Human the Death Dance
Another great album ousted by an album that's just a hair better. Sorry Sage, Mel Gibson took this one home. Maybe next time.

Last year I included a section titled "What I'm excited for." Here's what made the list and what I thought of it:
Bandits of the Acoustic Revolution - Didn't release anything.
Streetlight Manifesto - Made the list, see above.
Dessa - Didn't (really) release anything.
Circa Survive - Oh, so close to making the list.
Say Anything - Hit and miss. That's what you get for releasing a double disc. Though if I were making a top ten songs of 2oo7, "Baby Girl, I'm A Blur" would be near the top.
Against Me! - Made the list, see above.
Big D and the Kids Table - Didn't hear it. Oops.
Straylight Run - Good, but not that impressive.

Here's what I'm excited for this year:
the Doomtree crew album (and all Doomtree releases that are being held until the crew album drops). Glassjaw is rumored to have an album in the works and I'll probably go ape (dos mil) shit when (and if) it drops. I'd still love to hear new Bandits of the Acoustic Revolution material as well. On top of that Murder by Death is recording and supposedly releasing a new record in a month or two. Other than that, there isn't much that I know of coming out in the coming year. At least, nothing that's been announced. Keep me in the know.

Last year I also had a few runner ups that I grew to love. Cecil Otter's Rebel Yellow and the Decemberists' the Crane Wife probably would have ousted My Chemical Romance's the Black Parade and Saosin's Saosin were I writing that list today.