I will be decompressing

Another quarter has come and gone, and I am still alive.

I probably got an A in Postproduction, I hopefully got an A in Screenwriting, and I think I got a B in Art History.  I will confirm these suspicions as soon as I am able.

Until then, I will be decompressing.

with one smile

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

my my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it’s sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there’s never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

~e.e. cummings



Fuck you.

I am bored with America tonight.
Fuck you.
I am bored with my life tonight.
Fuck you.
I am tired of being alive.
Fuck you.
I am tired of meaning.
Fuck you.
I am alive.
Fuck you.
I am tired.
Fuck you.
Fuck you?
Fuck you.





I’m meeting with my Art History professor this afternoon to discuss my grade, which remains at the B/C border with only the final exam to go.  I will readily admit that I have not put as much work into studying for this class as I could have — I should be studying right now, truth be told, but procrastination takes many forms. 

The professor, however, is ridiculously hard, but in being hard he is also very good.  I have learned more in his class than in both of my other classes this quarter, and while some of this could be attributed to subject matter and scope — The History of Western Art vs. Screenwriting and Postproduction Techniques — most of it I attribute to the professor’s skill at making the subject interesting, and in the way my undergraduate degree in English Literature strangely connects with much of the material.  To whit:

-When explaining the Dada movement yesterday, he took a piece of paper and meticulously tore it into tiny bits, then threw them in the air and then pointed to the mess that they’d left on the floor.  "This is art," he said. 

-Talking about Frida Kahlo and the Mexican surrealist movement, he mentioned books by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Octavio Paz; he mentioned Rilke’s involvement in the artists "commune" in Worpswede, Germany; and one of Blake’s etchings was discussed as part of the Romantic movement. 

-His lecture on Rembrandt gave me chills, and nearly brought me to tears.

-His last lecture involved a discussion of Bellows’ Stag at Sharkey’s – the huge painting of the two boxers that hangs at the Cleveland Museum of Art; last week I learned how the Kandinsky print I bought at the Tate in London fits into the context of western art; and yesterday I learned that the Chagall print I bought at the MOMA last summer is an example of Dada.

This stuff — stuff that makes my head go "click" or my heart go "thump" — makes me forget about the debt I’m going into for this experience, and glad that I got a D in Art History when I was an undergrad.

Now I need to go study this stuff.

meaningless milestone

Another meaningless milestone in the history of Land of the Anxious Dog — an hour ago my site received its 100,000th hit, as someone in Internet-land did a search that elicited this result.  PUPPIES!  PUPPIES!  PUPPIES!

As a reward, of sorts, for you — my faithful, and haphazard, readers — I have started to post some of my short videos on YouTube.  You can find them all by clicking here, or by clicking on the links under "MEATBALL DAY PRODUCTIONS" over there on the left sidebar.  I plan to continue to add videos as I can, so stay tuned.

The Oscars start in ten minutes, so I’m going to end this post by reminding y’all of the prediction I made back in October after seeing the preview for Brokeback Mountain.  I will now add to that prediction — Brokeback Mountain will win best picture, best director, and best most everything else.  I will be happy if Phillip Seymour Hoffman wins, but I doubt that, too.  Stupid Hollywood.


SLOP (2005)